#and if all of florida was like that it would be on every playlist about sad blorbos until the end of TIME

[greenerteacups]

crying screaming throwing up at the latest Lionheart update – only amplified by my listening to the Tortured Poets Department (anthology) while reading. What are your favourite songs from the album? and what would be Hermione and Draco's faves?

favorites: So Long London, BDILH, Florida, Guilty as Sin, The Bolter

Guilty as Sin? is the one that I'll be using for my imaginary blorbo music videos for a while, personally. BDILH is going to be the new star-crossed-lovers edit audio on TikTok from now til the heat-death of the universe, and I personally am going to enjoy that. The Bolter is the best storytelling, and I think its specificity is its strength.

I think Hermione and Draco are 90's babies, and I have self-indulgently projected my own taste for 80's/90's altrock onto both of them. I think Daphne would go full Swiftie in a hot minute, though. Would go nuts for the Alchemy. (It's me, I'm Daph.)

[thelightsandtheroses]

sing fever to the form | frankie morales x female reader

Summary: Fake dating Frankie Morales seemed the obvious solution to both of your problems, until you caught feelings and now everything is a mess. Pairing: Frankie Morales x female reader Warnings: language and explicit content, 18+ blog - minors do not interact, a little angst with a happy ending romcom style,no physical descriptors, no use of Y/N or specific age mentions for the reader. Word Count: 6.3k Notes: the fic title is from one of my absolute favourite songs which features on every single playlist i ever compile (fever to the form by nick mulvey). I also owe a huge thank you to the lovely @mvtthewmurdvck for her support on this one 💕 i think without her, this would have probably languished in my drafts.

In the cold light of Benny Miller’s bathroom, you come to the conclusion that you’ve made several mistakes. The worst one of these, the one that set the rest in motion like dominoes, had honestly seemed like such a good idea at the time. It appeared such an obvious solution to the numerous questions, interrogations and unspoken pity that you were encountering. You could never have expected this.

You’d moved to Florida for work some time ago and while you had friends and a great career, your love life was definitely lacking. People picked up on it and while no one directly said it, you felt you were continually judged.  Sure, it was all well and good that you had a nice job, but if no one’s dating you -  well, what’s your red flag?

Between that and the fact your parents kept asking about whether or not you were dating, or if you’d met anyone nice at work, it started to weigh on you. Was there a problem with the way you were living - was it you? Your loved ones seemed so disappointed that you weren’t dating and putting yourself ‘out there in the world’. You tried to tell them the dating pool was not great, that the apps were awful and the only guys you ever seemed to attract came with so many of their own red flags that they could have lined the whole of your street. You’d dated enough bad guys already, you didn’t want to date any more.

You just needed some space.

Frankie was your friend and he was experiencing similar pressures. His friends were asking him when he’d start dating again and he was grappling with a new status as a single father. So, he also needed a break, needed to remove some of the noise from those around him.

Fake dating might belong in the movies, but it seemed an obvious solution to both of your predicaments. For a while, it was perfect. 

Frankie is the ideal fake boyfriend, he’s better than any you could have ever imagined. In fact, he is probably the best boyfriend you’ve ever had, which is part of the problem. Most of your previous boyfriends hadn’t been the best, and suddenly here’s Frankie, acting like the perfect man for you?

Of course, you ended up falling for him.

It might have seemed a good idea back then, only now you’re hiding in a bathroom, fighting back tears and berating yourself as the BBQ you’d been looking forward to carries on outside. You’re so stupid. This is a dumb game. It isn’t real.

You’re not supposed to catch feelings.

But you have.

“So, how did we get together?” Frankie asks, leaning his head back against the sofa so you can see all the freckles on his neck above his hoodie.

“Um…” you chew your lip, take a gulp of your drink, “I have no idea.”

Frankie’s house is the sort of home that has comforting chaos and mess to it. His daughter’s things are strewn around the living room, an aviation manual rests on open pages on the coffee table next to you and a pile of battered paperbacks are stacked next to the sofa. The walls are a warm yellow; surprisingly comforting and bright. It’s a stark contrast to how Frankie presents himself outside of his home - cool, collected, a little quiet.

His home feels lived in. You always feel comfortable here.

“We could say that we just realised one day, hanging out, I mean crazier things have happened. A big story would stand out. KISS principles an’ all.”

“What did you just say?’” you ask. “Did you just say kissing principles?”

“Kiss?” He shakes his head. “Keep it simple, stupid! The way I see it, the only way for us to get away with this is to keep it realistic, boring almost so people don’t ask more,” Frankie says thoughtfully. 

“Ah, so hooking up with you would be boring? That’s good to know.”

“Oh, carinô, if I kissed you for real that is not the word you’d use …”Frankie trails off, mischievously raises an eyebrow.

“Ergh, you can be so arrogant,” you tease, “Okay, fine. We had a sudden movie like realisation and what - we just got together and then what did we do?”

“Well then, y’know, by that point, you couldn’t exactly walk away.” Frankie smirks salaciously.

You throw a sofa cushion at him.“I think I hate you, Frankie Morales..”

“No, no that’s definitely not what you said.” 

“So,” Frankie pauses, runs a hand through his hair. “We should agree what the boundaries are, when we’re with others.”

“Others?”

“Yes, when we’re with our friends. It needs to be believable, right? And I’m sorry, but if we stay like we are now, around my friends, then they’ll know it’s fake in five minutes.”

“Why?”

“I did an online quiz with my ex and um, physical touch is my love language,” Frankie says sheepishly. 

“You do know that whole love language thing is bullshit, right?”

“No, it’s not. Jessie said -”

“She’s wrong.”

“Regardless, the quiz said that - ergh, fine, whatever. So, what’s the plan there? I don’t want either us to feel uncomfortable though, okay.”

“We’ve been friends a long time,” you say lightly, “This won’t change that. We can figure this out.” It’s not like you’ve never hugged Frankie or he hasn’t put an arm around you before. How hard can it be - you need people to believe you?

“Also, I am not lying to my kid, or getting her to lie for me. We need to keep her out of it, tell everyone else we’re taking it slow with her until we know it’s serious, okay?” Frankie looks at you with a suddenly serious expression. Oh god, he’s a dad and this is stupid and complicated and you can’t involve her in this and you’ve just been discussing the physical boundaries in this stupid game and this is ridiculous. 

It was a pathetic idea of yours.

“Maybe we shouldn’t -”

“It’s fine. We just keep her out of this.”

“Okay, that sounds sensible.”

“So we’re really doing this then?” he asks with a shy smile.

“Yeah, I think we are.”

It’s Frankie. What other choice was there when it came down to it? It’s Frankie with his deep brown eyes that have mastered the puppy dog expression and his shy smiles. You care about him and all of his insecurities, doubts and vulnerabilities you’ve learned over the years. They make him tangible, real, and truer. Perhaps you always liked him and you didn’t know. Maybe you did and subconsciously thought this was the only way you’d have him which is why you’d pursued such a ridiculous idea. Perhaps you had thought this would be like the movies, that he’d confess his love for you and you’d drive off into the sunset.

You’re now accustomed to the way his hands skim your back or waist when you’re with friends, the way he leans closer to you and you can feel his breath against your ear when he whispers sweet nothings in his low voice, smell the laundry detergent on his clothes.

He’s so convincing.

No one has ever questioned whether it’s real with the two of you. You don’t think it would ever cross their mind that the two of you are fake dating. 

Your body and mind certainly doesn’t think it’s fake anymore.

You sit on the edge of the bath and try and try and pinpoint when you realised you felt this way. You’ve both been flirting with danger for weeks; the way you’ve let him trace shapes on your side when he pulls you close, how you lean into the crook of his neck, play with the ends of his curls when you’re out with friends. You tell yourself it’s just to make it look real, to make this situation look authentic.

You’ve certainly fooled yourself.

You’re not even sure when you realised this. One moment everything was like normal and then it wasn’t. Perhaps it’s your fault, you have always been a dreamer. You’ve always walked through life fantasising that this will be the moment when everything changes, when you suddenly fit in and someone will like you or fall in love with you. Given the way your mind works, it was inevitably a stupid idea to even try this with Frankie.

It’s been overwhelming at the BBQ today; the gentle touches, the way he looks at you and you almost believe it’s genuine.  It wouldn’t normally bother you so much, but now you’re aching for it to be something it can’t be and it’s all too much.

You couldn’t help looking at Frankie throughout the BBQ; wanting to count the freckles on his neck, to run your hands through the curls hidden by his hat as you notice the ends peeking out at the nape of his neck. You’re always taken with the broadness of his shoulders too, his hands. 

You’re completely doomed. 

You can’t do this anymore. It’s not fair, it’s a betrayal of your friendship with him. It’s a betrayal of his trust because agreeing to do this fake dating was an exercise in trust, one you are failing.

You’ve been thinking about it for days. The reason you feel so safe with Frankie is because it’s not real, because you weren’t supposed to have to give your heart away. It was just meant to distract people so you could breathe again. You’ve seen too many romcoms and movies, you’re too much of a dreamer to have ever let this work without getting messy. You thought you could be detached and objective, but you can’t.

It’s you, you’re the one who has screwed up.

So you go downstairs, make your excuses and leave.

You’ve been fake dating for two weeks and this just might be your best relationship ever.  You can’t decide if that’s sweet or perhaps the most depressing thing you’ve ever admitted.

You’re in Frankie’s car on the way to Tom’s birthday, playing with the handle of the gift bag you’re holding. The sun is out, Frankie’s playlist is setting the scene and you feel so happy in this moment.

“Don’t be surprised if they say something about us,” Frankie says casually as he changes gear, “The guys have been giving me grief since I told them about us. Well, since I told them about what we’re saying about us, anyway.”

“I thought the idea was it would stop them giving you grief?”

“Oh, this is much better than it was, trust me,” he says, laughing as he looks at the road ahead. With his sunglasses on, no hat and a loose t-shirt he looks more relaxed than you’ve ever seen him. Frankie strikes you as a tightly wound coil, he’s just got that energy. He’s calm, not something or someone you are afraid of, but you recognise the way he thinks, see the nervous anticipation in his eyes before he smiles at one of his friends on a night out.

You see the same thing in yourself.

“You know, I can’t believe this is working,” you say cheerfully to Frankie, “My mom has even stopped sending me those news articles about people who meet their soulmates later in your life.”

“Your mom was sending you those?” Frankie asks, raising an eyebrow. 

“She means well,” you say placidly. “My parents have always had a lot of expectations for me.”

“Shit.” He reaches over and squeezes your hand. “Well, I can promise you that you’re the best fake girlfriend I’ve ever had.”

“Likewise, Frankie, likewise.”

You don’t mean to ghost Frankie after the BBQ. It’s just you’re not sure what to say to him. I’m sorry, but I think this fake dating is getting a little too authentic because I might be falling for you?

You can’t do that to him, can’t embarrass yourself with your stupid crush either. It’s better to just ignore the messages, pretend it’s not happening and bury your head in the sand.

Of course, Frankie knows where you live, so you shouldn’t be as surprised as you are when he turns up at your home.

“So what’s going on? I texted you,” he says with a forced casual voice as he leans against your kitchen counter. He’s wearing a loose t-shirt and jeans, his usual hat discarded next to him. He runs a hand through his hair and looks over at you.

You don’t want to look at him properly, so you focus your attention on your kitchen tiles instead . You really need to mop the kitchen floor later. 

“I think, I think this thing has run its course.”

“Oh, really?” Frankie looks surprised, almost sad, when you dare to look at him, “I thought this was working well for us both.”

“A little too well,” you mumble under your breath.

“What was that?”

“Nothing.”

You sigh.

“Hey, cariño, talk to me.”

“It’s just us, Frankie, you don’t have to call me that right now.”

“Why, do you not like it?”

You exhale again with exasperation and shake your head. Just make this easier on me, you think, stop muddying the water. When you meet Frankie’s eyes he looks perplexed though, concerned and his brow is furrowed.

“What’s going on?” he asks, arms folded as he looks over at you. “Talk to me.”

“I think we should stop with this fake dating arrangement. I mean, the idea was just to do it until my friends and my parents were off my back and until your friends were off yours, and they are. So, let’s call it a win and move on.”

“Did something happen?” Frankie asks. “You meet someone?” There’s a strange tone to his voice, almost wistful.

“No, no. I just - I don’t think we should keep doing this. I mean that girl asked you out last week at the bar and because Will and I were with you, you said no.” 

“She wasn’t my type anyway and that’s what this is about? Come on!”

“I’m - I’m clearly holding you back and that’s not what this was supposed to be.”

“Is this what you really want?”

“Absolutely,” you lie brightly, smiling as widely as you can. “We’re friends and we’ve helped each other out so let’s bow out of this gracefully. We can say to the others - we can tell them we realised that we’re better off as friends.”

“Right. Okay.”

“Okay?” you repeat, disappointed that he’s just giving up, that this really is it. 

A small part of you was holding out hope for Frankie fighting back, for him to declare his love for you, take you into his arms and then for the two of you to have the most passionate, intense sex of your life right there in the kitchen. That’s what happens in the movies and books. It’s all meant to end with a kiss.

Only he doesn’t do that.

He just quietly acquiesces to your demand that this ends now and when he smiles, as though his acceptance will make you happy, he shatters your heart into a million pieces.

You have no idea how your friendship will recover from this. You have no idea how to watch someone else love Frankie in the future, to watch him put his hands on someone else or look at them like he looked at you and know it’s real for them but wasn’t for you.

“I should probably go,” Frankie says, his gaze fixated on the floor.

“Oh, right. Well, I’ll see you around.”

The story of your breakup spreads quickly. Your friends are disappointed, they tell you it’s obvious you both liked each other, they ask if you’re sure you can’t work it out? Your parents are clearly disappointed, but at the same time you catch a glance of relief on your mother’s face when you tell her.

“He’s complicated,” she says, taking a sip from her cup of tea.  It’s your mom’s first visit in months, a visit you had originally planned during the fake dating misadventure.  

“Complicated?”

“He’s a single father and the job he has? Being a pilot isn’t like a regular 9-5.” 

“He makes his hours work for his kid, and none of those things were the reason we broke up”you say defensively. “And at my age, most people have previous relationships and baggage so I don’t think that makes him any more complicated than anyone else I could meet.”

“You don’t, darling, you don’t have any baggage.”

“That in itself is clearly a complication,” you say, rolling your eyes like a petulant teenager. “I mean, you and Dad hated it when I was single. You were always asking if I’d met someone, or if I was looking and -“ you trail off and stare at your hands on the table. Your nail varnish is chipped. Rouge Noir, the classic vampy red you always put on when you’re feeling blue, when you need a confidence boost. It’s not working for you right now though.

“We just want you to be happy,” your mom says, gently taking her hands in yours. “Whatever that looks like.”

“I am happy.” It’s meant to sound assertive but it comes out more like a question as you speak. You’re happy, dammit. Or you were before everything went wrong.

“No, honey, you’re in the middle of a break up and it’s obvious you still feel something for him. Are you sure - are you sure it’s over? You told me you were the one who ended things.”

“Yeah, I did. I don’t think - I don’t think it’s a good idea, mom. I’ll get over it. I have this big work project and then that trip and the apartment move soon, so I’ll be fine.”

You’re not sure of anything now. You thought stopping the arrangement with Frankie would save your friendship, but it didn’t. Now you don’t have him at all and it fucking hurts.

You are so angry and sad and confused. This is all your fault for getting feelings that you’d laughed at the possibility of months ago. You’ve lost him anyway and it’s caused a great  chasm in your heart.

 How can you be mourning something that wasn’t even real in the first place?

When you became friends with Frankie, he introduced you to some of his friends from his military days. While you didn’t exactly get on with all of them, Tom is aloof at best, Benny and you had become friends over time. In the wake of your fictionalised break-up, you’ve lost those people too. You’ve avoided Benny’s fights, wanted Frankie to have his friends without the bother of you. Besides, you’ve been focused on work. You had a trip away for a few days and then you had a big project, presentations. Work has been something to throw yourself into.

It’s a good plan, but Benny keeps texting you and personally invites you to his next fight.

You and Frankie have both said you’re still friends so what’s the problem?

I don’t know if it’s a good idea.

Just come to the damn fight, would you? Liv keeps asking after you.

You decide you should go at least once to show your face. You can do this, you can handle one night. You like Liv, Benny’s girlfriend, and you can say hello and then vanish quickly after the fight ends. If you’re careful with the seating set up, you might not even see Frankie or have to talk to him at all.

The bar is crowded and while Will, Santiago, Tom and Frankie all greeted you when you arrive, it feels different. Stilted somehow.

 It’s almost how it would feel if this was a genuine break up, if this was real. You suppose it is to Santiago, Tom and Will.

You sat with Benny’s girlfriend, Liv, for the fight. She squeezed your hand sympathetically when she catches you looking over at Frankie.

Frankie still looks the same as ever, you think as you cast your eyes over to where he is in the crowd. He’s wearing his usual hat, the one you’ve teased him about for years but can’t picture him ever giving up, with well fitting jeans and a jacket. He looks infuriatingly good.

Before the fight Frankie had moved so he was next to you and he looked like he wanted to say something to you before the fight began. Panicked, you quickly moved next to Liv instead and so you were sitting on the other side of the group to him as you took your seats.

Crisis averted, you thought. Only now, you can’t stop wondering what he might have said to you.

“I can’t see why you can’t get it together,” Benny says, taking a sip from his bottle of beer. The two of you are standing together by the bar, waiting for the rest of the group’s drinks. Benny’s mostly fixed up from his fight, with just a small red stain on his forehead between the steri-strips and bruises. You think the other guy must look a lot worse. 

“Wait, what did you say?” you ask.

“I don’t see why you and Frankie can’t work it out. I mean, look at him,” Benny points his bottle towards your friends, to where your attention had just been. Frankie’s standing on the edge of the group, arms folded, hat rigid. He looks uncomfortable.

You shouldn’t have come here tonight.

“We tried and it wasn’t a good fit. It wasn’t going to work out,,” you say flatly, repeating the line you and Frankie had agreed on.

“Look, you might have fooled the others, but you can’t fool me.”

Your stomach sinks. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, I know you guys were fake dating at first.”

“What are you talking about?”

“You could barely keep your stories straight about how you got together when I asked,” Benny says softly. “You kept adding details and I noticed Frankie shake his head whenever you did that.”

“Why didn’t you say anything? Does Frankie know?” You’re mortified for him, you know how embarrassed he would feel if he found out that Benny had guessed all along it was fake.

This really can’t get any worse.

“‘Cause you two obviously liked each other. I assumed that you’d figure it out along the way. I thought you had, but then -” Benny trails off.

“You know when you assume, you make an ass -”

‘Oh sweetheart, don’t even finish that sentence.“ Benny exhales. “How are you holding up?”

“It’s what you said, it was fake and we ended it and it’s all fine now.”

“Bullshit,” Benny exclaims, his southern drawl even more pronounced.

“It’s not.”

“It is.”

The bartender interrupts by finally handing you the rest of your drinks and between you and Benny, you take them and rejoin your friends.

‘Cause you two obviously liked each other.

Benny’s words echo in your mind. He didn’t say because you liked Frankie, but because you both did.

Frankie doesn’t like you like that though, you know this. He’s clearly just a very good actor.

You end up the one handing Frankie his drink, no doubt due to Benny’s meddling. Your hands brush against his as he takes the bottle and you can’t help looking up at him, noticing the unreadable expression on his face.

Will coughs loudly and you quickly take a step back.

“It was a good fight, Benny,” you say awkwardly, hoping he’ll take the change of subject.

“I need a smoke,” Frankie says, hunching his shoulders as he walks away from the group.

The room instantly turns cold. 

You awkwardly pull the edge of your jacket down, wishing the ground would swallow you up. Santi, Tom and Will are staring at you and you can’t be here. They hate you, they’re judging you.

This is so fucked up.

“I’m uh, going to go.”

Liv makes a motion as if to stop you, but she doesn’t, and Benny’s looking at you with real disappointment but that doesn’t stop you either. You’re getting good at running away now.

You’re too afraid to look behind you and see whether they’re looking at you as you walk away.

Frankie’s standing by the parking lot when you finally weave your way past the crowds and bloody fighters to reach the exit.

He looks surprised to see you. Just seeing his face makes your heart ache because you’ve lost him, you’ve lost him and you didn’t want to.

“I’m leaving now, so you can go back in” you say flatly.

“I was just having a smoke,” he says defensively. It’s an obvious lie, you both know it.

“Sure, Frankie. Look, you can’t just stomp off like that. You can’t leave me in that position with everyone. It’s not fair.”

“Yeah, well, there’s a lot of things we don’t discuss, lot of things that aren’t fair,” Frankie says bitterly, tossing his cigarette to the floor and stamping on it a little too vigorously.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“What’s going on with you? This wasn’t meant to affect our friendship. I never, ever would have agreed if I’d known,” Frankie says firmly. “You were my friend and I still wanted you to be but you ghosted me and ended our deal. That’s fine, but we didn’t go back to normal after. We just - it’s like you hate me now.”

“I don’t hate you.”

“Just would you tell me what I did wrong?”

“You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“Then why -”

“It was too real,” you whisper, folding your arms around yourself and leaning against the brick wall.

“What? What did you say?” Frankie asks, moving closer.

“You know, the faking it thing. It was too real, it was confusing me. And I - I didn’t want to ruin everything but I still ruined it all. Story of my life.”

“Don’t say that. Don’t be so hard on yourself.” You think, somehow he’s going to break your heart even more tonight and you didn’t think that was possible..

“I just - I got confused.”

“How did you get confused?” he asks in a low voice, taking another step closer to you.

“Don’t, Frankie, don’t make me say it.”

“Say what?” he asks, dramatically throwing his hands in the air, “I can’t understand you. I mean, this was your idea and then you ended it and now you don’t even want to be friends? I don’t know what I did but -”

“You did nothing, Frankie. It’s me, not you.”

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me. Clearly something happened. Can’t you just talk to me? I’m fucking miserable here. You were supposed to be my friend and I miss you.” You hadn’t thought that your actions could have hurt Frankie, you thought you were protecting him by doing what you did.

You feel even worse, a sick feeling rising in your stomach. 

“It got muddled in my head, okay, it felt like it was real and I couldn’t do that to you, so that’s why - that’s why.” You falter at the end of your sentence as all of the adrenaline and energy from your body fades away..

“It got too real for you? What are you saying?”

“That I like you. That I ended up liking you more than I should, you obtuse jerk!”

Frankie pauses then takes another step closer. “Why didn’t you tell me?” he asks, a slight smile on his face that you can’t make any sense of.

“It’s embarrassing, Frankie. We made an arrangement and I caught feelings like an idiotic teenager. I’m just daydreaming my life away again.”

Frankie is so close to you right now, he braces his hands against the wall as he stands right in front of you.

“You caught feelings, huh?”

You notice a familiar smirk on his face and then he’s kissing you.

Frankie’s kissed you before; it’s been part of the facade after all, but not like this.

This kiss is everything. It sends molten heat down your core, renders your mind completely blank. All the anxiety, all the internal dialogue is gone for once. The silence is blissful as you can feel your heart pounding, take in the soft texture of Frankie’s shirt as you fist it to pull him closer because now he’s with you like this, you can’t let him go.

It’s not an aggressive kiss, it’s not teeth clashing or fury. It’s not exactly gentle either.  Frankie kisses you with care; like he’s trying to take you apart right here and now with just a kiss.

In just one minute, he’s ruined you for other people. No one else could kiss you like Frankie does.

“I told you, if I kissed you for real it wouldn’t be boring,” Frankie mumbles, moving his attention down your jaw and neck to your collarbone. You can feel the velvet softness of his lips, the heat of his breath.

“Oh fuck you,” you joke.

”Well, baby, I think I’m trying. Not here though, we can do better than that.”

You both laugh. The tension breaks for just a second as you wrap your arms around his shoulders, laugh into his neck, breathe him in.

“C’mon, you had to know I liked you. I just, I  just thought you deserved someone better than me -” Frankie starts.

“That’s bullshit,” you argue. Frankie is kind, thoughtful and funny. He’s also so competent, multi-skilled and as you’ve just learned, an excellent kisser. Frankie has that quiet and collected energy you’ve noticed in a lot of ex-military people too. He flies planes and helicopters for a living. He’s your friend. How could you deserve any better than him?

“Can we get out of here?” Frankie asks, “Talk, not talk, I don’t mind. I just - I want to be with you right now. God, I missed you.”

“Okay. I really fucking missed you too,” you say, kissing his shoulder lightly before leaning back against the wall.

He doesn’t stop touching you the whole way to your apartment. He’s either holding your hand or touching your leg. If he has to temporarily remove himself to make a turn or change gear, he’s immediately back with you as soon as possible. You wonder if he’s worried you’ll leave or vanish if he’s not actually touching you, if he’s also wondering if this is really happening..

His car stereo blares uncharacteristically cheerful music by the latest pop sensation and you raise your eyebrows when he looks over at you.

“It’s her favourite album by her favourite singer and school’s been rough for her the last few weeks so this cheers her up,” he says defensively, flexing his fingers on the steering wheel, “I think I can probably hear it even when it’s not playing now.”

“Sure, but your daughter’s not in the car with us. Is she, Frankie? You could have switched it over.”

“I keep forgetting to change the CD,” he whines unconvincingly. “This car’s old.”

You make your way to your apartment, his arm around you, fingers entwined with yours the whole time.

As soon as you close the front door, he’s pushing your back against the wall, cupping his hands around your face to kiss you deeply.

You move your hands up to meet his and then move one of your hands down his chest.

“Your heart’s racing like crazy,” you mumble as he kisses a particular spot on your neck.

There’s always a moment of fear at a junction like this. What if the sex is bad - what if you’re just not compatible this way? But you need him, you need him with you, in you and the two of you are both too far gone to focus on that now.

Your friendship is changed anyway. There’s nothing more to lose.

He places his hands on your hips, pulls you away towards your bedroom.

“I want you so much,” he says.

“I want you too,” you reply, dazed between kisses as he navigates you to the edge of your bed.

He ghosts his hands down to the edge of your top and you move to desperately pull it off you.

You watch him take in the sight of you in your bra, take in the smile on his face. He looks at you with something like reverence; as if he can’t quite take it in that you’re real and you’re with him. Part of you wants to glow under his gaze and the rest of you fights panic, because this feels different, it feels real. You’ve never been looked at like this before.

You’ll do anything to keep this moment.

He gently unhooks your bra, moves his kisses down from your lips to your neck to your collarbone to the curve of your breasts and then down again.

His hands fumble with the button of your jeans and you’re desperate for him.

“What do you want, baby?”

You, you think, I just want you.

”C’mon, tell me,” he coaxes.

“I just need you. I want you to - ”

“I’ve got you,” he says, calmly lifting your hips to remove your jeans, to touch the hem of your underwear - and could you have not put better underwear on this morning?

You open your mouth to say something but then he comes back to meet your lips as he moves his hand inside your underwear. You’re already slick with wanting him, he slides a finger inside before tracing circles over your bundle of nerves to make you gasp.

 “You’re so fucking pretty,” he whispers as he continues taking you apart.

“Frankie -”

“I’ve liked you for so long, I just thought you didn’t want me that way. I’d take anything you give me - friendship, I mean fake dating. I thought it was as close as I’d get.”

“Frankie, how could I not want you that way? You’re - you’re Frankie.”

“Exactly.”

“I’m going to show you.”

You feel your orgasm building and clasp your hands over his shoulders, into his hair. You shut your eyes and then it’s gone.

“Frankie?”

You open your eyes to see him take his finger into his mouth then mischievously smiles as he moves back and off the bed. He moves you so your legs are over the edge of the bed and then. He gets on his knees.

You take a deep breath He kisses the inside of your knee, traces kiss up your thigh until he meets you. You sit up slightly on your elbows as he looks up to meet your gaze with a dazed smile before he turns his attention to you.

Frankie Morales knows exactly what he’s doing between your legs but in case, you tell him how good he is anyway. He takes you apart with expert precision, gets you back to the precipice of pleasure all too quickly and guides you over the line.

“Do you want to -” he asks breathlessly as he comes back to you afterwards and kisses you. You can taste yourself on his lips, can feel his hardness pressing into you.

“Yeah, I do. I have uh - condoms in the bathroom cabinet.”

“Give me a second.” He kisses you briefly and you shut your eyes again as he goes to the bathroom. You try and catch your breath back and get your legs to stop trembling.

Why are the condoms so fucking far away? You still desperately need him, still need to feel him.

When Frankie comes back, he kisses you hungrily before he slides the condom over his length.

“Fuck, to think we could have been doing this the whole time,” he says before he’s sliding inside you.

There’s nothing else at this moment. It’s just you and him and the way you dig your fingers into his back with your free hand and the way your other hands is entwined in his as he moves inside you, the two of you desperately exchanging  sweet nothings to each other, groaning each other’s names.

Your heart is racing and the blood is pumping in your ears. You watch the expression on his face just before he buries his face in your neck, sure he can feel the way you’re tightening around him, can surely feel how close you are too and then just as he takes you to that place one more time, you hear the way he moans as he joins you.

The next morning you watch Frankie pacing your balcony as speaks on the phone to his daughter. His hair is still damp from the shower, curling at the ends, and he has a mug of coffee in his other hand. He turns and smiles at you.

Just twenty four hours ago, you never thought Frankie could feel that way about you. You were resigned to your mistakes and your losses.

You were wrong.

He hangs up the phone and you walk over to join him on the balcony, your mug of coffee tightly clasped between your hands.

“Hi.”

“Hey,” he says, putting his phone in his pocket and wrapping his now free arm around you as he takes a gulp of coffee.

You take a sip of your own coffee.

“I was just thinking,” Frankie says, “so, I guess the story we came up with before was true, right? We just realised how we felt about each other one day - and okay, it might have taken some fake dating to get us both there - but no one else needs to know that.”

“No one else needs to know that.”

You definitely need to tell Frankie at some point that Benny has figured everything out, that Benny clearly pushed you two together last night. You probably owe him a thank you, but you’ll never tell Benny that.

“So, what do we do now?” There’s a lot you need to discuss, figure out, but you just want to be with him. Surely that’s enough for now.

Frankie grins. “Well, I don’t need to be home until the afternoon so I’ve got some time right now.”

“I’m sure we can think of some things to fill that time.”

Frankie laughs. “Definitely.”

Tag List

All Pedro characters: @harriedandharassed @pedrostories @hiroikegawa @pedrosaidsheispunk

[caramelcleopatraa]

iv. SUIT & TIE

word count : 1,400

x : hey y'all, its the owner of The Bank speaking! Finally got this shit finished, and I'm halfway into part 5 already 💋 Here are the playlists loves! I will actively be adding to these as the story progresses. We got ms. plot in the building as well xo

content : Mafia!Roman Reigns x Designer!Reader, suggestive

Playlists 💋 Spotify Apple Music

“Rommannn! Are you done yet baby?” A high pitched yell on the other side of the door startles you. Roman’s grip on you tightens and you give him a confused look. He plants a tender kiss on your cheek, leaving you a little bit flustered, and he smiles at your flustered expression. His hand pushes your head down on his shoulder and you take a deep breath. 

“Yeah. Just be patient, ok?” Roman says sternly. “But Baaeee! You’ve been in there too lon-” “I’m not finna tell you again. Wait,” Roman says, rubbing the back of his neck. Annoyance was written all over his face. De’arra groans in defeat and the comfortable silence settles back into the atmosphere

‘Pleeaase! Please! Pleeaassee! Don’t let this turn into some drama…’

You let your nails drag across his chest. “Am i gon’ have to worry about her fucking up my shop?” 

“Nah, she all bark no bite,” Roman says, looking down at your hands. “She’s not that petty or jealous.” You look at him with your eyebrow raised. ‘For him to be a ladies man, he should know how petty bitches are. ESPECIALLY when it comes to a man.’ “I hope so. I don’t wanna deal with yo’ loose ends,” You say, getting off of him and standing up to pick your bottoms off of the floor. 

“I got my shit together girl. I already told you i’m not fucking with her. She’s only around me cause her daddy likes my money.” ‘Money? Who’s her dad?’

*KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK*

“The couples are finished.” Aahkilah yells at you from the otherside of the door. Both of you get dressed and clean up the dressing room. You were about to walk out of the room until Roman grabbed your hand and pulled you closer to him. You were going to question why he pulled you away before his hands rose above your head. His hands firmly smooth down your hair and fixed some stray hairs. You couldn’t take your eyes off of him. He handled you with such care and delicacy. You tell him thank you and he responds with a short hum.

 You open the door to greet your clients. Gio and Madison are working as cashiers, ringing both of them up for their suits and dresses. Jey and Jimmy are putting in their payments while Talia and Trinity are talking. “Girl come over here real quick!” You hear Talia yelling at you to come over. From the tone in her voice, you couldn’t tell what this conversation was going to be about. However, you wouldn’t be in the dark for much longer. “Wassup?”

“Girl you ain’t hear?” Trinity says looking at you with a confused face. You shrug your shoulders and replied, “I be busy. Enlighten me.” “There’s a new family trying to replace the Anoa’i family.” Talia crosses her arms and sits into her hip. The blank expression on your face says everything. The Anoa’i family has been managing Florida for decades. To challenge them would be like walking straight into a turf war. Apparently, someone wanted that war. “They’re offering hella bank tryna take their spot too. I wonder if that shit’s fake… or a bluff maybe.” 

“They’ll take that offer back when they realize who they’re messing with,” You mutter to your friends.  Even your family didn’t dare challenge them, because they’re smart enough to know it’ll go every other way but good. Your family, the Semele’s and the Anoa’i family have always been on good terms. The Semele’s don’t own turf however, they are known for having access to a lot of things most mafia’s don't. Your family is known for being suppliers of information, stolen goods, weapons, you name it. So if Reigns is being threatened, that means you could be in trouble too, since everyone knows these two families are tightly tied together. A power duo, if you will. 

“You’re not worried about this?” Trinity’s face is laced with concern for you. You shrugged your shoulders and rolled your eyes. “This could just be a scare tactic, and those don’t work on me,” You said confidently as you gave them a reassuring smile. 

“That’s not something for a pretty lady to worry about. I’ll handle it,” Roman says, looking straight into your eyes. Goddamnit, those eyes. Somehow they made you so flustered. His presence was enough on its own, but his stare was so damn powerful. You were ashamed that someone you had only met an hour ago was making you so giddy and out of character. The tension between you two was thick, and everyone was starting to see it. “You gon’ let me handle it?”

“Well you're not gonna let me handle it?”

“It’s not your problem,” Roman says sternly, deading the conversation then and there. You walk closer to the cashier desk to talk to him directly. “Is this your way of caring for me?” Roman smirks at your comment. “When I said I'd take care of you, I wasn't just talking about that pussy.” Gio and Madison’s jaws drop at his comment. You could see them looking at you through the corner of your eye and you knew you would have to explain what he meant by that. You couldn't hide the smile forming on your face. “You like that?” You didn’t even have to look at him to know that he was smiling. You could hear it all in his tone. “Boy, I’m not playing with you,” you say, walking away, still wearing an existing smile. Roman laughs to himself and hands Gio a stack of cash.

“Neither am I.”

You finished another successful busy day. A shit load of fittings and pickups. Roman had someone pick up all of their suits and dresses, which completed all of your custom orders for the day. Finally, a chance to get off of your feet.

“Ummm what the hell was that this morning?” ‘Ahh shit’. You internally roll your eyes. Eventually, they were gonna bring it up to you. Maybe trying to play dumb was not the best decision on your part.

“What was what?” You innocently bat your eyes at the two ladies. “The smile off you had with your private client. Don’t tell me something went down after I dropped off your drink,” Madison says, sitting down in the swivel chair next to you. You almost muttered a snarky comeback when you were hit with flashbacks from this morning. How he spoke to you and how he touched you kept replaying in your mind. A pool between your legs was forming just from the thought of him. 

“Oh he definitely put it down.” You are quick to defend yourself just as Gio says, “You’re over here in lala land! And at your job too!” Gio acts shocked and puts her hand over her heart and lets out an exaggerated gasp. You hit her in the side and shy away from their investigating eyes. The deafening silence was telling the truth for you. 

“Well we didn’t fuck.. But he did eat my pussy,” you shyly said, still looking away from them. You didn’t have to look at them to know that their mouths were wide open again. What you didn’t know was those open mouths turned into wide smiles. “Ok! Ms. CEO gettin some head! Was it good?”

‘WAS IT GOOD? GOOD’S AN INSULT’ “Um…” 

Before you finished your sentence, Madison interjects with, “Musta been, you looked like you were in a good mood today too. Especially after Roman’s fitting” You regrettably looked back in their direction and saw Madison wiggling her eyebrows. You lightly shove her away from you and stand up. “No, the fitting went well with no complications. That's what I was happy about.” You attempt to defend yourself, but you should’ve known that it was falling on deaf ears. Madison and Gio help you close down and lock up the shop. Of course, Madison had to tell you her two cents before going your separate ways. 

“Look at you smilin-”

“Shut up.”

Welcome to your new addiction

Hi guys, back with part 4 and the playlist that you guys wanted. As always comment and tell me what you think <3

🏷️ tags :) @2-muchsauce @theninthwonder @harmshake @alichesmi @thesamoanqueen @alyyaanna @empressdede @badbitchcentralinc @christinabae @fame-ass-ers @southerngirl41

[mediumgayitalian]

prev chapter

———

“Okay,” Will says, when they’re comfortably on the road. This early in the morning, Highway 17 is practically empty; nothing but sunny skies and clear air rushing through the open roof. The emptiness may also be attributed to the fact that it is a random Tuesday. “Pick a number between one and nine.”

“Uh, five.”

“Good choice, good choice.”

He opens the centre console, digging around Nico’s – well, and his, at this point – collection of CDs to find the right one. He makes a little noise of triumph when he finds it, blowing on the back and wiping it on his shirt before sliding it into the port.

“One half-assed polish isn’t gonna fix those scratches, Solace,” he teases.

“If you weren’t such an emo fuck, Playlist Five wouldn’t be so scratched.”

Nico laughs, conceding this round. Will looks inordinately pleased, nose scrunching along with his tiny smile even as Linkin Park starts blasting through the speakers, which he hates.

“Three songs ‘til Britney,” he grouches as Nico starts hollering along to Points of Authority. Nico shakes his head, still grinning – as if he didn’t make these playlists. If he is truly so miserable, he wouldn’t have put the song on at all.

(Nico knows, in the very back of his mind, that Will actually and truly cannot stand Linkin Park. To him, it’s not music at all. He has never been able to get into it, as much as he truly likes music of every genre. If Linkin Park is on this playlist, and they’re on more than one of the playlists Will has made specifically for their shared car rides, it’s because he cares about Nico more than he hates the band. Nico shoves this knowledge deep into the dustiest corners of his mind, because that’s more than he can afford to think about.)

The next couple hours pass by comfortably. There isn’t much to remark on the side of the road except the odd fruit stand, or farm advertising eggs and honey, so onward Nico drives. He keeps an eye on the odometer, but mostly trusts Will’s calculations. If he says they won’t need gas ‘til Anthony, wherever the hell that is, Nico believes him. 

“Highway changes to the 98 through here,” Will says, nodding to the tiny sign that boasts nothing except Ft. Meade CITY LIMITS, right next to the giant banner half the size of the church it's attached to that reads, REPENT OR BURN. 

Ah, Florida. Please one day change.

“Do I need to exit?”

“Nope, the road just changes to a different number.”

He eases off the gas as they approach the tiny town, watching carefully for state troopers. And, like, children, probably. So far he’s passed twelve gun ranges and one school, but whatever. He can have priorities, even if this garbage state doesn’t.

“Hm. 98 is a better number.”

“Absolutely not,” Will tells him, aghast. “17 is a prime number!”

“Ninety-eight is more fun to say. Also, prime numbers suck.”

“You take that back –”

Nico slides up his sunglasses, shaking his head fondly. Nerdiest nerd to ever nerd. He would be embarrassed if he wasn’t so endeared.

He presses back on the accelerator as they exit the town, turning up the music as Will’s rant ends. He shucks off his shoes – Feet off my goddamn dash, Solace – and curls up into his seat, burying himself in a book. Nico glances away from the road to try and read the title, but quickly gives up since the font is bright fucking purple, for some reason, and in some horrible looping shape that he knows will give him a migraine. All graphic designers should be in prison. 

“Hey, there’s apparently a gator reserve forty-five minutes ahead.” Nico squints again at the book. Barely, he can make out “roadside” and “weird”. “‘Weird American Roadside Attractions’,” Will reads aloud, noticing Nico looking. “Such as a very nice and highly rated gator reserve –”

“No.”

“Road trip, Nico. Adventure.”

“I’m super happy to adventure away from living fucking dinosaurs, Solace.”

“Aw, come on, they’re kinda cute –”

“Two thousand pounds per square inch of jaw strength! You are the one who told me that!”

“You don’t think you could take one in a fight?”

Nico stares at his best friend incredulously. He’s got a thoughtful little frown on his face, looking at the sky as he contemplates. Nico notices, vaguely, that the shade of his irises is the exact same colour. 

“No, I do not. Obviously.” He pauses. “You think you could take a fuckin’ gator?”

“I think it’s possible.”

“See, that’s crazy, because fifteen seconds ago I genuinely believed you were an intelligent person.”

“Do not lie to me and tell me you don’t have a list of animals you know you could take in a fight,” Will says, instead of rising to the bait. He waits, meeting Nico’s glare, eyebrows raised.

“An ostrich,” Nico admits, begrudgingly. “I feel like – one good punch to the throat –”

Will smiles smugly at him. “That’s what I thought.” He turns back to his book, fiddling with the corner of a page. “Also, ostriches are more closely related to dinosaurs than alligators. So. Check and mate, motherfucker.”

They pull into Anthony at around eleven, at pretty much exactly a quarter tank – just like Will predicted. He looks inordinately pleased about it, so Nico shoots off a quick prayer to the karma gods. 

He trips on his way out of the Jeep. Nico smirks.

“I’m gonna go stretch my legs,” he says, unaware of Nico’s hand in his humbling. Nico waves him off, attention turned to the gas pump.

Annoyingly, as he pulls out his card and handles the pump, he remembers Will’s scrunched nose and pursed lips as he’d explained, when they were 16, how gas station pumps were frequently more germy than their toilets, and cleaned approximately one hundred percent less. Suddenly, his hand begins to feel grimey.

Twelve bags of chips, a gas station slushie, and a pair of clean hands later, Will is still nowhere to be found. Nico frowns, craning his neck to look around the tiny parking lot as if he somehow missed Will’s neon orange shirt the first time he looked. Still not catching sight of him, he walks hesitantly back to the Jeep, tucking his snacks away and biting his lip, contemplating. Will is both very fast and very easily distracted, but he has enough sense not to go too far in a random town five hours from home. If he sticks by the car and waits, Will’ll be back soon. 

But, on the other hand, waiting is torture.

Easy decision, really.

He locks the door, hopes that no one will show up with a pair of wire cutters and a flathead screw driver, and sets off. The first thing he notices, and he adds it to his mental list of things to loudly complain about when Will is locked in the car with him, is that it is fucking sweltering. In the hours approaching the afternoon, the day has gone to pleasantly warm to so hot the air is actually thick with it, and he doesn’t have wind ripping through the open windows to cool him down. Plus, he’s wearing jeans, and for the first, and hopefully only, time in his life, he envies his friend’s cargo shorts. 

The second thing he notices is that Anthony, Florida, is empty as shit. All the love in his heart to the people who call it home, but also, move, maybe. He’s hesitant to stray too far from the gas station, in case Will comes back and finds him gone, but there are no hills or anything. He can see quite far down the road. The only thing he sees is a possum starting a fight with a poor random guy – which, actually, is kind of fun to watch. 

Perhaps he has judged Anthony too harshly. 

“Nico!” shouts a voice, startling him. He whips around and finds Will, standing in the goddamn centre of the road, the dumbass, waving like a lunatic.

“There is no possible way I was going to miss you,” Nico informs him when he’s close enough. “You are approximately the height of the Washington monument. I could not miss you if I tried.”

“I wasn’t waving to get your attention, I was waving to shoo away the eagles that mistook you for a mouse.”

Nico kicks him in the shin. Will, well used to his violence, dodges, grinning, except in the act of hopping away from Nico’s dangerously hardy boots, he somehow wraps his foot around his own ankle and goes sprawling.

Nico smirks. “Who’s the short one now.”

Faster than he can even follow, Will’s hand darts out, wrapping around his ankle, and tugs, yanking him yelping on the asphalt next to him. 

“Foul!”

“All’s fair in love and war, Neeks.”

Shut the fuck up shut the fuck up shut the fuck up, Nico screams at the alarm bells blaring in his brain, he doesn’t mean it like that and you know it oh shit he’s looking this way quick look normal look normal –

“I can do war if that’s what you want, Solace,” he manages, honestly quite proud of himself for managing speech with approximately fourteen percent of his brain still functioning. Damn.

“Yeah, yeah. Anyway.” He crawls to his feet, offering Nico a hand. He takes it, dutifully fighting the urge to pull Will down again, just to be an asshole. He’s cool like that, and most definitely being normal about the scrape of Will’s callused fingers against the inside of his forearm. “I found maybe the funniest thing I’ve ever seen, and I need you to come look at it immediately.”

“Sick,” Nico says, immediately intrigued. He and Will have their differences, sure, but if there’s one thing they can agree on it’s their sense of humour. 

He follows will down the road, passing the gas station again. (His car, thankfully, remains in one piece and beautifully not-robbed.) They dark across an empty intersection, walking across a yellowed lawn as they approach a run-down, patchy, one-storey bungalow with a rusted sign that reads: The Iron Works.

“Behold,” says Will gleefully, “the Abstract Iron Centaur.”

And behold, Nico does.

Gaping, he observes the structure standing proudly under the sign. Striding proudly, rather, its front legs bent to simulate movement, its human arms poised as if ready to strike. It wears a medieval knight’s helmet, and holds a rusted axe. The entire structure is a little taller than Will, and made of, presumably, iron, rusted into a light roan red.

“Abstract Iron Centaur,” Nico repeats, after several minutes of silence.

Will still looks delighted. “It was in my book. I had no idea what to expect and also I didn’t believe it was real. Isn’t it the greatest thing you’ve ever seen?”

“It’s…something.”

“We gotta take a picture, Neeks. I never want to forget this thing.”

Nico allows himself to be pulled, still somewhat bewildered. It’s not even the oddest thing he’s ever seen, it’s just – he has many questions, like, for example, why? How long has this creature existed? How long will it persist? Who created it? Why is it in Will’s dorky book? Does it house a soul?

“Okay, squish in, this camera is older than your elderly ass and doesn’t have a timer.”

The familiar jab breaks him out of his stupor. “Seven months older than you, fucker.”

“Geriatric.”

Without warning, Will crowds them under the Abstract Iron Centaur’s lifted arm, and then presses his widely grinning cheek right flush to Nico’s, raising his beat-up camera to the air.

Nico’s brain goes static.

“Say cheese!”

“Hnngh,” says Nico, as the camera blinds him.

Luckily for his continuously worsening blood pressure, Will pulls away the second he hears the click, shaking the ejected negative to help it develop, and Nico has a second to remind his lungs that they have a function, actually, get your shit together, I am not dying in fucking Anthony, Florida. 

“You look like a dork!” Will says, delighted. “Look!”

Blinking at the photo shoved one sixteenth of an inch from his eyeballs, Nico indeed looks. The Abstract Iron Centaur looks more foreboding on camera, somehow, but Nico barely notices it – instead, he finds his gaze drawn to the beam so wide it forces Will’s eyes shut, and the dazed, dopey look on his own face; eyes wide, mouth dropped, slightly, and posture undeniably leaning into Will’s magnetism. 

Humming to himself, Will slips his wallet out of (one of) the (many) pocket(s) of his shorts, tucking the photo inside it. Nico melts into a puddle of goo on the dead grass. His mortal soul escapes his body, descending rapidly. His atoms return to star dust. Et cetera.

“Oh, shit, we gotta go if we want to reach Georgia in good time.”

“Right,” says Nico, voice cracking. He clears his throat and tries again. “Let’s go.”

He absolutely does not haul ass to his car. He walks at a normal pace, for normal reasons, thoughts in a normal place. 

“Back on the 75,” Will instructs as they peel out, sliding sunglasses on his nose. “We gotta scoot around town a bit to get to the entrance, but it won’t take long.”

“D’you know this place?” Nico asks, even though he doubts it. As far as he knows, Will was outside of Sarasota one time: in the move from Austin. He supposes his mother might have had a concert up here, or something, and unusually, let him tag along, but he doubts it.

“Nah, just memorised the map.”

Nico hides a smile. “Oh, of course.”

It’s all too easy to tease Will, but there was a reason he was valedictorian. There’s a reason for his many shining scholarship offers, his endless well of ridiculous facts pulled from nowhere. He is, genuinely, the smartest person Nico has ever met.

Even if he genuinely believes he can fight an alligator and win.

“Two hours ‘til we cross state lines,” Will says brightly, shouting slightly over the wind as they merge onto the highway. “And then on to infinity!”

“Onto infinity,” Nico agrees, matching his smile. 

Already, he’s proved Nico wrong. They’re farther now than Will has been since he was seven, and there’s nothing in his expression that suggests he wants to slow down. 

Privately, and quietly, Nico lets himself start to hope. 

———

next chapter

[lovelytsunoda]

chateau ( feel alright ) | kyle kirkwood

summary: powers out in andretti house. stuck working together on a project for their business marketing class, kyle and yn find themselves stuck in his dorm with no lights and no heating

pairing: college!kyle kirkwood x college! reader

warnings: you’ve heard of only one bed, get ready for only one ✨blanket✨ santino slander (and rightly so). kyle is such a himbo my lordy I love him. kinda slow burn since they don’t kiss right until the end (sort like in my other Kyle fic lmao)

there was a certain kind of charm to kyle kirkwoods dorm room at andretti house.

sure, the florida panthers jersey hung above the couch screamed ‘frat boy’ and he had an impressive collection of shot glasses lined up underneath the tv, and since he and his roommate were both hockey players, the main room tended to stink of sweaty locker room as they liked their gear in a corner, but it was proof that people lived there.

kyle never would have been her first choice as partner for this assignment, but she didn’t have many friends left in the program, and they’d all paired up with each other. lest she get paired with santino, who was so much of an asshole that she would rather get hit by a bus than work on a mid term with him, she’d turned to the boy who was sitting behind her and asked if he had a partner yet.

kyle thought he was crazy for saying yes. typically he paired with colton and the two of them somehow wrangled their way to an a-minus. everybody knew that professor rahal was a hardass, so every choice in partner counted.

but when he saw her pretty, pleading eyes behind those wire rimmed glasses, he couldn’t find it in him to turn her down.

“according to the simulation, social media interaction including view counts is higher when we post reel-like content.”

kyle was barely listening, watching as her delicate fingers tracked across the keyboard. her earrings were little gold pumpkins, they complimented her skin nicely. everything about her was warm and inviting.

he’d let her connect to the dorms small speaker system, and she’d chosen a britpop playlist, an early oasis song playing softly in the background. it wasn’t something he’d thought she’d listen to, but now that he could see her tapping her fingernails on the keyboard while she hummed along, it just seemed to make perfect sense, fitting in perfectly with his vision of her.

kyle kirkwood was totally and utterly infatuated with her.

“kyle?” she asked softly “are you listening to me?”

he blinked rapidly, trying to remember what she had asked. “yes, right, you were talking about short form video content and engagement.”

“I’m impressed.” she smiled. “you’re smarter than you look, kirkwood.”

“I aim to please.”

“good. now give me a hand with this next bit.”

she beckoned kyle over with two fingers, making space for him in the rug next to the coffee table. their mismatched dollar-store mugs of coffee were empty on the table behind her laptop, papers and notebooks spread out across the table.

“now, for this part here-“ she was cut off by an ominous beep, all the lights in the dormitory shutting off one by one.

the clocks on the stovetop and microwave shut off soon after, the living room illuminated only by her laptop, which now proudly displayed the “no internet” message.

“shit.” she cursed, leaning back against the couch. “the outage crashed the simulation.”

“well,” kyle tried to stay positive. “there’s got to be something that we can do in the meantime. truth or dare? never have i ever?”

she laughed, head in her hands. she could smell his cologne from here. well, she was sure it more like aerosol deodorant. something strong, like axe or lynx.

“what are you, five?”

all kyle could smell was her. vanilla and cinnamon. she was intoxicating.

“yeah. five heads taller than you.”

she paused, looking at him with a confused glance before she burst out laughing. god, he loved hearing her laugh. “kyle, that’s so bad!”

kyle laughed along with her until he felt the temperature in the flat had dropped markedly. he could see her shiver, his protective instincts jumping out.

he pushed himself up from the floor, disappearing into his small room. there wasn’t much in there. just some hockey gear, a desk, a twin bed and a rickety bookshelf. there was a plush blanket folded up at the foot of the bed, which he grabbed after pulling a cable knit sweater over his head.

he went back into the living room, gently draping the blanket over he shoulders.

“better?” he asked quietly, feeling some kind of intimacy that definitely wasn’t there before. his hand still rested on her upper back, warm and grounding through the blanket as she pulled it around her shoulders.

“warmer, yeah.” she turned to face him, rubbing at the corner of her eye. “what do we do now?”

“we could watch a movie or something until the power comes back on.” kyle suggested. “logan isn’t supposed to be back until later, you can stay as long as you want.”

he really didn’t want her to leave. in fact, he wanted her to stay forever, turn his silly dorm into a home. he wanted to be with her for as long as possible.

“I suppose so. It’s not like we can do anything constructive, and I don’t want the night to be a total write off. do you have a dvd player?”

Kyle raised an eyebrow. “you do?”

“it’s to watch my criminal minds box set.”

“I was just going to use my cell phone data. I have unlimited.” kyle said, switching on netflix. “what did you want to see?”

“how much do you like matthew mcconaughey and have you ever heard of the lincoln lawyer?” she grinned. “it’s one of my favourite legal thrillers.”

Kyle pulled up the movie as she shut her laptop, propping the phone up against one of the empty mugs. they settled in next to each other, hands resting on the ground with a conspicuous gap between them.

she yearned to reach over and take Kyle’s hand in hers, but the idea of being flirted with just made her fell so awkward and uncomfy. she just wanted a warm, comfortable love, but she supposed she had to start somewhere.

she inches her pink in finger towards Kyle’s multiple times before eventually bringing her hand back and settling it in her lap, pulling the blanket tighter.

Kyle turned to look at her, the way her face was illuminated in the soft blue light. on the screen, tv lawyer mickey haller was meeting with a new client in the county lockup. Kyle was mesmerized at the soft concentration on her face, the way her face was gently scrunched with focus.

a shiver ran through his body, and he found himself reaching for a corner of the blanket.

“Kyle.” she laughed. god, Kyle would do anything to hear that laugh again. “this is my blanket. go get your own.”

he was so fucking whipped.

“what if I miss something important?” he tried to give her his best impression at puppy dog eyes. “you’d have to explain the whole movie to me, I’d be so lost.”

she smiled, rolling her eyes. “fine.” she unwrapped herself, tossing one end of the panthers blanket to the man next to her. “but don’t be a blanket hog.”

“I make no promises.”

they had to move closer together to be able to properly share the blanket with each other. their Jean clad legs were almost touching, a nervous energy surrounding the duo as they kept their eyes trained on kyle’s iphone.

“Kyle?” she asked quietly, voice barely audible. “would it be strange if I said I wanted to kiss you right now?”

Kyle turned to face her, reaching over to pause the movie. “I’d actually like that a lot.” he smiled nervously, reaching out to hold her face.

her skin was soft, and she keener into his touch, biting back a sigh.

when he kissed her, it felt warm and inviting. a comforting addition to her life, rather than fireworks and burst of electricity that would have disrupted it. his lips were soft as they moved against hers, and it felt like coming home.

she sighed under his touch, reaching out to gently run her fingers through his hair.

she didn’t want to stop kissing him.

and he didn’t want to stop kissing her.

Kyle’s face was rosy, or it would have been if she could see anything.

“you’re really good at that.” he whispered into the dark, totally in awe of the woman in front of him.

“I dunno, I think I need a bit more practice.” she joked, hand resting on his knee. “maybe you could help me out.”

“gladly.” he beamed, leaning in to kiss her again.

[broadstbroskis]

cruel summer | matthew tkachuk

Devils roll the dice, angels roll their eyes What doesn’t kill me makes me want you more

15k, summer romance, fwb to lovers, childhood friends to lovers, significant references from cruel summer

+playlist

a/n: hi! i’m back, maybe! kinda. i am not exaggerating when i tell you this has been years in the making. someone once asked me a question about what song i would love to write a fic about and i said cruel summer by taylor swift. shoutout to them, whoever you are, for inspiring this! at some point, i lots of continuity errors that are not really relevant to the plot (i.e. matthew was traded to the panthers, although neither calgary nor florida appear in this, ages, etc.)

HUGE thanks to the many friends who cheerleaded me on with this. some of you don’t even go here anymore, i love you still and hope you’re all doing well. for those of you that still are ( @blueskrugs​ @matthewtkachuk​ ​@miracleonice87​ @laurenairay​ probably more, i’m sorry i’m forgetting!) you are all amazing, i love you, you’re all incredible and supportive and the best!

Growing up, your year was split into three seasons: football season, lacrosse season, and summers at Cape Cod.

Your dad’s football season began early; he’d go off to training camp well before your mom would move you and your brother back home for the school year, and even once he’d retired from the sport and moved into a broadcasting role, he was still back and forth for the last month of summer much more frequently than the rest of you.

Lacrosse came next, the sport that both you and your brother loved. Once preseason began, it was all you lived and breathed until the season was over, whether that was in heartbreak or absolute elation.

But for all that you loved lacrosse, summers at Cape Cod were your favorite. You lived for those summers at the Cape, you loved the friends you made there, you loved the time spent at the beach, the peace felt there. Those summers were like no other part of the year.

So you were excited to be able to spend one last summer there before you had to enter the real world. One last hurrah of no worries. 

Or at least, that’s your plan. You’re sure that your mom’s got other plans for your summer, but honestly, you’ve got a job lined up that’s set to start in September, once intern season is over, and you’ve got nothing planned besides sitting your ass on the beach with a book in one hand and a drink in the other until then. 

Your parents had mentioned working on the house over the year, but the basics remained the same and the excitement for summer starts to bubble within you, as you make your way to your room, chatting with your mom as she points out some of the work they’d had done. Her next project- the downstairs bathroom- was ready to be started and she already wanted your opinions. “I brought cabinet and back splash samples to look at!”

“Deal.” You laugh, hanging off the door frame of your room, eager to get inside and throw your stuff down. “This weekend, for sure.”

Your room is familiar, unchanged in every way since you last left it, to the point that there’s still half a bikini out on the balcony that you must have forgotten to pack up last summer. You drop your suitcase on the floor and open the door to grab it, immediately distracted by the sea air, leaning against the railing.

“Yo!” A voice calls, and you look over to find its source, grinning when you do.

There’s a boy on the balcony facing you from the house next door-well not really a boy anymore; he’s got five years in the NHL under his belt now. But regardless, Matthew Tkachuk is grinning at you from the balcony next door, just like he used to every summer when you were growing up.

“Hey!” You call back, waving excitedly, and as if being here with your family and your summer friends wasn’t enough to make this the best summer, having Matthew here too? Well, your last hurrah was just getting better.

-----

It’s far later than you would have woken up if you were going to lacrosse practice at school, but still far earlier than you’d like to wake up in the summer, when you find yourself blinking at the wall, unable to fall back asleep and feeling restless, so you slip out of bed and start digging through your stuff for some running clothes.

If you’re not going to sleep in late, you may as well get a good run in. 

The route you start is familiar, an old comfort, and it brings a grin to your face to see everything that’s still the same and all the things that have changed since your last time running this path a few years ago. 

A few minutes in, you notice someone fall into step beside you and look over to find Matthew running beside you. “Hey.” You pull an AirPod out of one ear and he does the same, returning the greeting. 

“God, why are you awake?” Matthew asks, and you can hear how tired he is.

“Used to waking up early.” Seriously, lacrosse workouts had started hours before this. “Why are you?”

He pulls a face. “Needed to get a workout in before we go grab the boat from the marina.”

“What, and Brady doesn’t?”

“Lazy fucker said he’d do it after.” Matthew grunts. “Not gonna happen.”

“Ohhh, calling out conditioning already! I love it.” If you thought your own family was competitive, the competitiveness of the Tkachuks, put you all to shame. It was fucking hilarious to watch, a highlight of every summer.

Matthew shrugs. “110% to everything, right?”

“I want a front row seat when you guys play corn hole this week.”

“Shotty Taryn.” Matthew grins.

“Poor Brady.” You lament. “Not even going to know what hits him.”

Matthew shrugs. “That’ll teach him to sleep in.”

You burst out laughing, then have to stop running because you think you’re going to die if you continue doing both. “Oh my god, you asshole.”

Matthew shrugs again, waiting for you to catch up with him a few steps ahead, but he’s laughing too, which just sets you off more, and honestly, you might need more than a minute to recover from this one. It’s been a while since you’ve seen him and you’d forgotten how much fun it was just hanging out with him. 

-----

“There’s a party tonight,” Nora, who comes from one of those Kennedy-esque giant New England families and has been summer-ing three doors down from yours for as long as you can remember, says, not even bothering to lift her head up from the towel she’s sunning herself on. “That a couple of guys from my school are throwing.”

You shrug, dragging your attention away from the game of cornhole that Matthew and Brady are playing with a couple of your other friends, Ethan, and Jake. “I’d be down.”

“You just want to hook up with Alex Miller one last time.” Bri, Nora’s cousin and best friend- a wild friendship that you have never been able to fully understand, but one that you think could just watch the back and forth for hours-accuses her.

“So would you, if you knew the things he could do with his tongue.” Nora waggles her eyebrows.

“This was a bad time to come over.” Ethan cringes and you, Bri, and Nora all burst into laughter as you see the same look on Ethan, Jake, Matthew, and Brady’s faces, game of cornhole evidently complete. 

“Party tonight.” Nora explains. “You in?” Ethan and Jake both immediately and excitedly agree so you turn to Matthew and Brady. “You guys coming?”

Brady shrugs super nonchalantly, but Matthew nods. “Yeah, sounds fun.”

Nora grins. “Sweet. We’ll meet you outside tonight at 10.”

It’s already 10:15 when you and Bri make it down to their kitchen, finally dressed, already a little tipsy, and still waiting on Nora, but the boys have let themselves in and made themselves at home, drinks already in hand. “Uber will be here in five.” Jake says.

“Fuck.” Bri’s eyes widen and then she goes to shout off for her cousin as you laugh, suggesting a round of shots quickly before you go.

The best part about some of these old Cape Cod houses is all the land they have and how far they are from the main roads or, better yet, their closest neighbors, and when the Uber drops you off at the end of a driveway, it takes a minute before you realize the party is already in full swing. There’s music bumping, the bass is heavy, and there’s a bonfire crackling on the beach, which is absolutely where you’ll be headed just as soon as you find the keg and get yourself a drink.

“There’s your boy.” Bri elbows Nora, when the group of you are barely halfway up the driveway, and Nora holds a peace sign up to all of you as she dips off to the side.

“See you next week!” Ethan jokes to her, because she's known for disappearing for weeks at a time in the summer once she finds a boy, only showing her face at parties and the occasional beach day until she’s ready to find the next one. 

Nora pauses long enough to turn and flip him off, grinning at all of you as you laugh, even Brady, who’s definitely least familiar with all of you, barely old enough to even sneak beers off to last time you were all in town together, but then she's off, and so are the rest of you, filling cups at the keg and moving through the party, saying hi to friends and familiar faces from summers’ past. 

But the bonfire was your goal from the minute you entered this party and it’s where you find yourself almost immediately, squishing yourself into the smallest space, enough that it’s barely even a seat next to Mathew, practically half in his lap. “Hey!” He whines in protest, but it doesn’t sound serious at all, even as you shift yourself around and drape your legs over his.

“Thanks for sharing, Matty!” You beam but immediately want to take it back as he rests his cold cup against your leg.

“Payback.” He grins right back, but transfers the cup to his other hand, resting his free hand there instead, thumb just gently brushing back and forth over your skin, and quickly the two of you lose yourself into catching up with your friends again.

——-

“I’m dying.” You tell Matthew, when you meet him at the end of your driveway the next morning. 

“I already puked in the bushes across the street.” He tells you. “Not sure how long this run is lasting.”

It lasts until you puke in the trees lining a stretch of road, which sets Matthew off as well, and then you both stop in a nearby convenience store to grab gatorades, before walking slowly to the beach and just...sit, slowly sipping. 

“This is much more my speed today.” You tell Matthew, yanking your tank top off over your sports bra to use as a pillow and lying back on the sand. 

“Yeah.” Matthew agrees after a minute, sounding a little spacey, so you turn to follow his voice, only to find that he’s done the same as you, and is lying back as well, showing off a lot of skin, and a lot more muscle than when you’d last seen him a few summers ago. 

You feel a little ridiculous when you find your eyes lingering on the slope of Matthew’s shoulders and down to his pecs- after all, you’d spent all day at the beach together yesterday and hadn’t had this issue-but you can’t seem to take your eyes off him. 

“Gonna stay here a while.” You close your eyes, turning away from Matthew, soaking up the feeling of the sunshine, already feeling yourself drifting off into a nap.

“Power move.” Matthew agrees and the next thing you know, someone’s pressing a cold can into your stomach. 

“Holy shit!” Your eyes pop open as Jake laughs above you. “You asshole.”

“Here.” Jake passes you the beer can and a koozy and even as you feel your stomach turn, you pop it open. 

“I’m going to regret this.” You tell him.

“Summer, babe!” Jake shrugs. “Live it up.”

And well, that’s what you’re here for, right? That was your whole plan for this last hurrah, wasn’t it? So even as your stomach turns, you cheers your beer with your friends, moving closer to Matthew to make room for the rest of them to throw everything down, thoughts of his shoulders almost forgotten as plans for tonight start coming together.

Almost forgotten.

-----

Tuesday night is burger night at the country club and it’s been a weekly event for your family since you were a little kid. So after another long day at the beach (and a much needed post-beach day shower), you and your mom make your way to the club to find your dad already waiting for you at a table on the patio. He’s flipping through the menu, like he doesn’t order the same burger every week, and he’s already ordered drinks for all three of you- a whiskey for himself and a glass of wine each for you (rosé) and your mom (chardonnay).

“How was golf today?” You ask your dad, already grinning and ignoring the glare your mom sends your way. Magic Steve, as he was known by almost everyone, after a football season filled with comebacks leading to a Super Bowl win, had picked up golf the second he retired from football, too competitive to sit around and do nothing, but the magic didn’t carry over and he was terrible at it, no matter how many lessons he took. You lived for his stories about how each different course was out to get him in a different way. Would it be the ball’s fault he lost today or his putter? 

“Awful.” Your dad says, launching into a story about the eighth hole- the bane of his existence- and the group in front of them, and the cart girl, and his caddy, each playing a role in why he lost today. “Are you sure you don’t want to come back and work the course this summer?”

“Sorry.” You tell him, sure that you sound anything but about why you don’t want to come back to being a cart girl. The money was great, but, “I’m a free agent this year.”

He laughs. “What’s your starting offer then?”

“Sunshine, sand, and beer.” You grin.

“Got all those things here.” He jokes and it takes a second before it lands.

“Ugh, lame.” You tell him, but you can’t even keep a straight face because he looks so proud of himself. “Just like your score today, apparently.”

“Cold-blooded.” Your dad says as your waiter approaches. “Taught you so well.”

“Steven.” Your mom rolls her eyes, exasperated. 

Your dad winks at you and you hide a giggle as you order. The conversation turns to some of the decorating ideas for the downstairs bathroom and when your mom wants to really get started, before switching to your brother, some of the neighbors, and some hot town gossip. 

“Before I forget!” Your mom says, as your dad is paying the bill. “Chantal wants to do dinner with everyone when Chase is here this weekend.”

“Can you clear time in your busy schedule of sitting around doing nothing?” Your dad deadpans.

“I’ll have you know that Matthew and Brady are right next to me sitting around and doing nothing, but I guess we can make time for Chase.” You sigh dramatically.

He shakes his head at you fondly, ruffling your hair as you try to stand up from the table. “Must be a nice life.”

“Very peaceful.” You tell him, finally standing. “Maybe one day when Chase is here I’ll join you on the course and kick your ass.”

“Remember you said that next time you come home at 2am drunk and I let you sleep in.” Your dad advises, as the three of you start walking out toward the cars, because you both know the potential for you to beat him is there. “Because I will.”

You giggle and blow him a kiss, even though you know you’ll pay for it later. “May the best golfer win!”

It’s once you’re home, barely an hour later, that the text comes in. 

ice cream🍦?

There’s really nothing to even think about. You were two seconds from your pajamas and bed but as soon as Matthew texts you to ask, you can practically taste a Dresner’s cone in your mouth. Meet you out back. You send back and then slip on some sneakers and head back downstairs.

“Where are you going?” Your mom looks surprised. You had, only a few minutes ago, ducked out of watching a movie with her and your dad because you were too tired from your long day in the sun.

You’d taken a lot of shit for that one.

“Dresner’s with the Tkachuks.”

“Oh, she can stay up for ice cream.” You hear your dad call out sarcastically.

You grin. “Bye, love you!”

When you get out back though, the only Tkachuk out there is Matthew. “Ready?” He twirls the keys around his finger.

“Yup!” You follow him around the corner to their garage, sliding into the passenger seat. “Siblings busy?”

He nods, starting the car. “Taryn’s with her friends.”

“And Brady?” You prompt.

“Brady’s with Melissa.” He smirks.

“Brady!” You say, putting on the most scandalous tone you can manage. “Look at him, growing up!”

“Grown up Brady is just one more person to share beer with.” He points out.

You burst out laughing. “We’re all legal adults now that can buy alcohol whenever we want. Some of you all even have jobs. I don’t think sharing beers is a problem anymore.”

“Yeah, it’s a good life now.” Matthew laughs.

You nod in agreement, grinning and jumping out of the car practically before he puts it into park and ignoring his glare. “Yeah it is.”

It’s late enough at night now that the families with young kids have mostly cleared out of Dresner’s, but there are plenty of high schoolers hanging outside still, which only makes you feel old as fuck when you glare at a pack of them for getting too close on their bikes.

Matthew’s cracking up at the look on your face as they pass. He has to stop walking for a second, hands on his knees and bent over to catch his breath.

“They almost ran me over!” You protest.

“Uh huh.” He says, failing to hide a smirk, as he presses his hand to your back to lead you to the counter. “Sure.”

Nothing about Dresner’s has changed since the two of you were kids, from the large blue and white planks the building is made from to the giant fading board listing all the flavors. In fact, the only thing that ever changed was the chalkboard in the center window listing the special monthly flavor- strawberry shortcake for May.

Matthew’s already eyeing it up, but you know exactly what you’re ordering. “Mint chocolate chip in a waffle cone with rainbow sprinkles, please!”

The teenager behind the counter raced off to make your cone, but next to you Matthew’s laughing. “Ever going to try something different?”

“Why should I when I’ve already found the best?” You laugh, accepting your ice cream from the teenager.

He laughs, shaking his head at you fondly, and placing his order- strawberry shortcake with hot fudge- before turning back to you. “How do you know it’s the best if you’ve never even tried any of the rest? You’ve been eating mint chocolate chip on a waffle cone since we were six!”

You smile sweetly at him. “From every bite of yours that I take.”

“Well maybe I just won’t give you one today.” He threatens and you laugh.

“Yeah, okay.” You snort, reaching for your wallet.

Matthew waves you off with his credit card, already passing it over the counter as he accepts his cup of ice cream. You thank him quickly and then reach for his spoon. “No!” He protests, lifting his ice cream out of reach as the two of you start walking away from the counter. “No way! Branch out with your choices! Stop being a thief!”

“Come on! One bite. Please?”

“No! Get your-” He starts, but you reach up to touch the skin on the underside of his arm, just under the sleeve of his t-shirt, already knowing his reaction. “Fuck! Your hands are cold!” His arms come down and you make your move, leaning in to lick at the ice cream in his cup, like you would your cone. He yanks the ice cream away, but it’s way too late, reaction far too delayed this time. 

“Mmmm.” You grin. “But still not better than mint chocolate chip!”

But when you look over at Matthew, he’s got this weird look on his face, something you can’t really place. It takes a few seconds for him to even realize you’ve spoken and he blinks a few times before he responds. “You’re unbelievable.” He finally says but it sounds a little different than before, less like banter and more...serious? But maybe not in a bad way either...

You're not really sure what happened there or how to take that, so you just nudge him with your shoulder and keep walking next to him. “I know.”

-----

While on your run the next morning, Nora texts your group chat about a party that Alex Miller was throwing that night. 

Oh you’re alive?? Bri texts, before confirming that she’ll be there.

Ethan and Jake are quick to pile on with jokes as well, and confirmations, asking about what time they should all arrive. 

There’s a bunch of messages to catch up on when you and Matthew end the cool down to your run with a quick dip in the ocean before you sit on the beach between your houses for a few minutes to dry off. 

“Party tonight?” You look over, eyes caught on a water droplet rolling down Matthew’s bicep as you wait for him to respond.

“Yeah.” Your eyes flicker up to meet his, but thankfully, he’s not looking at you and didn’t catch you staring (this time, at least, because it’s definitely happening more often).

“You don’t sound very excited.”

Matthew sighs, rolling on his side a little to look at you. “Getting bored.” He says, in that way that usually means he’s about to come up with a terrible idea. “Need something new to do.”

It’s only years of summers spent with Matthew that tells you him being bored is bad for you all. He’s too used to moving constantly to sit still and relax like this all the time. “Want to take a boat out one day this week?” You suggest. “Do some water sports?”

His face lights up instantly and you know right away it was the right thing to say. “Tomorrow?”

“You think you’re going to be up for that tomorrow?’ You ask skeptically. “After tonight?”

He hesitates. “Alright, maybe Thursday.”

You burst into laughter and he smiles back at you. “Thursday.” You promise. “Chase’ll be here by then, too. I’m sure he’ll love to come out.”

Matthew looks like a whole new person as he stands up, holding his hand out to help you up. “Great!” He beams, practically lifting you off the sand without any effort from you, a feat that you are very much not thinking about. “Let’s get moving, one day closer to the boat.”

-----

“What’s up?” Matthew asks, as you slip into his side later that night.

Or maybe slip’s not the right word. “Stumble and crash” into his side might be a better description. It’s late now, after all, and you’ve been drinking pretty steadily all night.

“Nora’s trying to set me up with Alex’s friend.” You complain, leaning further into his side as you see said friend approaching you from over his shoulder. “So she’s not ‘alone here’ anymore.”

Matthew’s arm wraps around you tightly. “And you don’t want to hook up with Alex’s friend?”

“No!” You stress, grabbing his cheek and pulling his face in your direction. “Lemme make this clear. No.” You repeat.

Matthew’s laughing, but whether it’s from your vehemence or your drunkenness, you aren’t sure. “Well, he’s still coming over here.” He laughs again, but this time it’s definitely from the look of panic on your face. “Come on, we’ll go grab you a new drink.”

“Life saver.” You tell him, bumping your head against his shoulder and almost immediately reaching for his hand when you start walking to avoid getting lost in the crowd.

“Ugh.” He complains. “That’s the worst candy.” And that’s how you know he might not be as drunk as you but he’s definitely had at least a few. “Can’t I be, like, a Reese’s?”

“Nope.” You’re fighting back a grin, knowing exactly what your next words are going to do to him. “Butterscotch lifesaver.” He fake-gags and you giggle, the reaction exactly what you’d hoped for.

“Even worse!” He shakes his head. “I’m the candy you ignore at your Grandma’s house.”

“We can’t all be Werther’s caramels and Andes mints.” You reason with him.

He turns toward you, full cup of beer in hand, and you reach out for it, but he flicks your nose gently. “You can get your own beer.” He says, grinning. “Butterscotch lifesaver, my ass.”

“Hey!” You’re unable to stop the laughter, even as you look at him in protest. “At least I didn’t call you a strawberry bon bon.”

Matthew acknowledges that with a head tilt and by passing you the beer, before reaching for a new one for himself. “Brady.” You both say at the same time, and then exchange a secret grin.

“It’s the cheeks.” You point at your own. “Always just a li’l cute and red.”

Matthew laughs. “Oh, I’m telling him you said that.” 

You’re back to leaning close to him, hand in his as the two of you try and navigate the crowd again. “Don’t you dare.”

“Strawberry bon bon!” He calls loudly, as you laugh and do your best to shove at him with your shoulder. “Where you at?”

“You’re an asshole.” You laugh.

He only grins at that, because he can definitely hear the fondness in your voice. “Not the first time I’ve heard that one, babe.”

“Not the last time either.” You chirp back.

“Nah.” He laughs. “Probably not.”

Matthew’s lost his good spot by the bonfire by the time you two return so you keep walking and talking, mostly about your brother now and the new girl he’s supposedly bringing with him when he comes into town tomorrow. It’s a nice night tonight, the heat’s kind of broken after a thunderstorm earlier in the afternoon, and as the breeze picks up you find yourself leaning further into him and ducking into corners that might block the wind while ignoring the laughter in Matthew’s eyes once he finally starts to notice what’s you’re doing.

It’s in one of these corners that you notice Alex’s friend again, watching you, and you immediately pull Matthew away to a different spot, only to see that same guy again only a few minutes later.

“What’s wrong?”Matthew interrupts his own story when it’s clear to him that you’re not paying any attention to him.

“That stupid friend of Alex is following us!” 

He turns to glare, you can already see it forming on his face, but you’ve got a better idea. Maybe it’s the booze that makes you think it’s a great idea, or maybe it’s the late hour, but you reach for his turning face and pull him in for a kiss.

Right away, Matthew responds, pulling you closer, and it’s like this entire summer of the two of you just needing to be right there, right next to each other, this magnetic pull yanking you closer, it all comes together. 

It could be minutes, it could be hours when you finally separate. You’re breathing heavily and Matthew is too. “Is-“ You clear your throat. “Is he gone?”

“Who cares?” Matthew asks, and then he pulls you in to kiss you again.

-----

In the morning you wake up still a little dizzy, but whether it’s from the alcohol or the rush of the memory of hooking up with Matthew, you can’t really tell. 

You meet him between your houses for a run just like any other morning anyway.

“Wasn’t really sure about this run today.” You tell Matthew, as you see him waiting for you at the bottom of the driveway.

He cracks up. “What, do I make you that sick now?”

“Not just you.” You say, stomach a little queasy as you start to run.

He must see it on your face because he starts to laugh. “I’ll buy you a gatorade if you can make it to the gas station.”

“I might not.” You tell him. “Buy me one anyway please.”

He does. Your favorite flavor even. And then he sips on his own with you slowly as you walk back toward the beach.

“When’s Chase getting in today?”

You shrug. Chase runs on his own time. “Dinner, maybe?”

“Have you met the new girlfriend yet?”

You shake your head. “She sounds nice though. More than I can say about the last one.”

Matthew looks over, interested. “What happened with the last one?”

You burst into laughter. Oh man, that’s a story.

It’s easy to launch into the drama of Chase and Danielle as the two of you sit there on the beach with your Gatorade’s, sun just on the right side of beating down on you, not quite hot enough yet to be too much. 

Matthew’s laughing by the end of it; it’s hard not to. “I don’t know if I am hoping for less drama.” He says and you glare at him. “It’d be nice to get some entertainment in.”

“I’ll find some other way to entertain you, I promise.” You say dryly.

“Oh now there’s a deal I can get behind.” He grins, eyes sparkling mischievously and you wonder what you’ve just gotten yourself into.

-----

Chase pulls his car into the driveway as your dad is pouring drinks for happy hour and you abandon your drink on the table in favor of throwing yourself at your brother.

He makes like he’s not going to catch you but at the last minute, he lifts you up and squeezes you tightly. “Ah, missed you, squirt.” You stick your tongue out at him-at that detested nickname mostly-and he laughs. “This is Hayley.”

“Hi!” She beams. “It’s so great to meet you; I’ve heard so much about you!” 

You side-eye your brother. “It’s all lies.”

She laughs right away. “Yeah, I’ve got one of those too.”

Immediately you smile, linking arms with her as you pull her into the house, leaving your brother to get their bags. “I’m so excited to meet you!”

“Any help?” Chase calls to you.

You both ignore him.

——-

Outside. 

You know what that means, and you go out to the balcony to see Matthew waiting below.

“Well?” He calls up to you. “How’d it go?”

“I love her.” You tell him, already reaching for the trellis against the siding to climb down to him, waiting in the garden. “She’s amazing. If he doesn’t marry her, I’m going to riot.”

He laughs, arms still up to steady you in your descent; it doesn’t happen often, but a fall or two has been known to occur. “You’ve met her once.”

“Don’t care.” You tell him stubbornly. “She’s a keeper. Where are we going?”

He shrugs. “Wherever you want to go. I just wanted the gossip.” 

“You’ll see her tomorrow, they’re both coming on the boat with us.” You start walking toward the beach.

His entire face lights up. “Boat day!”

“What, did you forget already?” You tease.

“Just excited.” Matthew says and you can feel his excitement, he’s practically vibrating with it.

“What am I going to do with you?” You ask, shaking your head.

He laughs. “Listen, somebody’s gotta keep me entertained, shouldn’t have volunteered for the job when we were six if you didn’t want to be stuck with it when we’re 24.”

“You’re right, didn’t think that one through.” You say dramatically, dramatic enough for him to gently shove your shoulders toward the water. The waves crash on your shoes, but at least he doesn’t send you into the water. “Hey!”

“Oh sorry,” Matthew says mildly, which should have been a big hint. “My mistake.” 

“Yeah, it-“ Next thing you know, he’s lifting you up and walking straight into the ocean. “You asshole!” You cry, the sentiment lost entirely over your laughter as you attempt to clutch at his shoulders, knowing he’s going to drop you as soon as he’s deep enough.

He ducks under a wave instead, your arms still wrapped around his neck and you emerge sputtering and laughing. 

“You asshole!” You repeat, but he’s grinning back at you and you know you’re going to kiss him back before he’s even kissed you.

-----

Chase was more than happy when you’d mentioned that Matthew wanted to bring the boat out on his first full day in town. It was Hayley that had looked a little doubtful when it came up, mentioning she hadn’t been out on a boat before, let alone done any of the water sports you were talking about. 

She’d been game to come out with you all though, just told you and your brother not to expect any promises about any water sports.

“You’re going to love the boat.” Chase had said at dinner, when you were talking about it. “Promise.”

He was right. It hadn’t taken long for her to relax in one of the seats and even less time from that for Brady and Taryn to get her out tubing.

It was Matthew’s turn driving and he’d motioned a moment ago for a new beer, which you’d pretended to ignore for a solid minute until he’d called you out on it. 

“Finally!” He teases, as you pass him a can in a koozy. “What’s the driver got to do to get a beer up here?”

“Not get sand in every crevice imaginable.” You deadpan and he laughs. “Next time, let's at least put a towel down.”

“Oh so there’s going to be a next time?” Matthew grins and you pause. The words had just come out of your mouth, but neither of you had ever said anything about what you’ve done up until now or what you might be going forward. 

“Play your cards right and there might be.” You say finally, settling down on the seat near him.

He winks.

-----

“Hello?” Your mom calls out to announce your family’s arrival, as you all follow her into the Tkachuk’s back patio. “We’re here!”

Chantal immediately leaves Keith alone at the grill and the relief on his face is clear. Matthew is standing right next to him, laughing as he passes back over a beer, but once his mom calls him and his siblings over to say hello, he dutifully follows her tracks.

He pulls you in for a hug as he’s making his rounds and if it feels like he holds you longer than anyone else, that’s definitely your imagination, right?

It must be. He moves right on to Chase and Hayley after that and you’re left with Brady. “Where’s Melissa?” You ask innocently.

“Sh!” He hushes you immediately, looking over to his mom quickly as you laugh, patting his arm.

“Sure, babe.” You tease. “Your secret’s safe with me.”

“What secret?” Matthew appears at your side.

“Mom’s birthday present.” Brady lies smoothly, before going off to get himself a drink from the cooler.

Matthew looks over at you as soon as he leaves. “Melissa.” You whisper to him conspiratorially. 

“Ah.” He nods, fighting back a smile. 

“I did notice she didn’t come out on the boat yesterday.” You admit, but you hadn’t really thought to ask about it. “I just didn’t realize he was keeping it down low.” 

He shrugs, leading you over to the beer cooler. “I give it two weeks before he brings her home. I know he likes her and my mom’s suspicious.”

You laugh, accepting the beer he hands you. “Classic Chantal.”

“She’s been in her element this summer.” He agrees.

“She just likes having the whole family around.” You say. Your mom’s been excited about your brother being here since he told her what dates he could come back.

“Speaking of the whole family,” Matthew says. “Did you get roped into golf tomorrow?”

You nod. “Poor Hayley. Doesn’t know what she got herself into when she said she liked to golf.”

“What happens first?” He proposes. “Big Walt claims the whole thing is rigged or Magic Steve whiffs on a shot.”

“If Magic Steve makes it to the eighth hole without whiffing on a shot, I’ll give you a hundred bucks.” You say. “Two hundred bucks. Anything you want. It’s not going to happen.”

Matthew grins and his eyes light up mischievously. “Anything I want, eh? Alright deal.”

What have you gotten yourself into?

——-

Stomach full, plate empty, and a little drowsy, you find yourself leaning into Matthew on the couch you’re sharing with him and Taryn. 

Around you the rest of your families are in similar states and no one seems like they’re in a rush to clean up. The discussion is light but loud, a staple for your families, always having to shout over one another to be heard anytime you all get together, which is probably how your mom and Chantal get away with whispering to each other for so long.

“What are you two up to over there?” Keith asks, finally catching onto them.

“Yeah, that’s never anything good.” Your dad tacks on teasingly. 

“Nothing.” Your mom says, but it’s entirely unconvincing and everyone immediately latches onto it.

“It was!” Chantal insists finally. “We were just talking about those two.” She gestures over to you and Matthew.

“Us?” You repeat.

Your mom nods. “You two and the big summer Cape wedding we’d always dreamed about.”

“Hah!” Brady’s laughing, like the idea of you and Matthew getting married is the most absurd thing he’s ever heard, before your mom is even finished speaking.

“Those two?” Chase is right there with him. 

“Well we know better now!” Chantal says. “I could only be so lucky for Matthew to bring home a girl this nice!”

“Hey!” Matthew protests next to you, but you’re laughing right along with everyone else.

“When one says hello to me, I’ll take it back.” She counters.

He hesitates. “Alright, that’s fair.”

She laughs. “Damn right.”

“Were you really planning our wedding?” You ask them.

“We planned it when you were ten.” Your mom informs you and everyone laughs. “The bridesmaids wore sage, but it has become abundantly clear that wedding will never happen.”

“I mean, we were ten.” You say. “So that wedding was probably never going to happen anyway.”

“Listen, mothers can dream.” Your mom replies.

“And that was a good one.” Chantal adds.

“Don’t worry.” Your dad says reassuringly to Matthew. “I’m sure whatever girl finally says hello to her will be just as good. The bar is pretty low.”

It’s a joke, a pretty good one even, that everyone laughs at, but you and Matthew exchange a brief look, joining in a beat late.

-----

Matthew’s waiting outside your window when you start climbing down the trellis, ready to steady your descent if needed, just like you knew he would be.

When you overestimate the last step, he grabs you, hands remaining on your hips even after he steadies you. 

“Interesting dinner tonight.” You say carefully. Your moms’ words have been drifting in and out of your thoughts since they came up.

Matthew hums as his fingers slide up your side. “Yeah?”

You fight back a gasp as one of his thumbs brushes the underside of your breast. “You don’t think so?”

He smirks and you know you were unsuccessful in holding back your gasp, at least completely. “Oh I thought so.”

“Jerk.” You lean forward to kiss him, but he’s already right there, and for a while, you lose yourself in Matthew. His mouth. The heat of the summer night and how easy it is to just fall into this each time.

When you both pull away, breathing heavy but smiling, neither one of you actually moves away. “Tomorrow?” Matthew asks, thumb still brushing the skin at your hip.

“Again?” You ask, kind of surprised, as you look meaningfully between the two of you.

He shrugs. “Why not?”

“Because our moms just married us off at dinner a few hours ago?” You deadpan.

He laughs. “Well we haven’t said anything to them yet. Why change what’s worked?”

You pull a face at him- why would you have said anything to them yet?- and he laughs. He’s not wrong though. What has to change about what you’ve been doing? Because your moms made a joke?

You stick your pinky out to him, like when you were kids, a promise to keep secrets from your parents or siblings that would always end up getting you two in trouble. “Easy breezy.” You say.

Matthew loops his pinky around yours. “Easy breezy.” He agrees, and it feels like every promise you ever made with each other.

-----

Nora appears on the beach with the rest of you, sometime around noon, with a fresh cooler of drinks and some snacks, and takes her roast accordingly.

“You’re alive!” Bri cries dramatically, stealing a fresh White Claw. “Ohh, mango!”

“Ew.” Ethan shakes his head at her, shifting his chair over to make room for Nora. “Mango? C’mon, Nor, you find a boy for a week and you forget the good flavors?”

“Don’t you fucking dare give me shit right now when the next words out of your mouth are about to be lime.” Nora says and you pull your eyes away from watching Matthew playing Kan Jam long enough to laugh. 

“Should we set the over under now?” You tease. “Or later, once their game is done?”

“What over under?” Nora asks.

“Wait until the game’s done.” Bri says. “Gimme some time to think.”

“I think that’s cheating.” Ethan counters.

“If you ain’t cheating, you ain’t trying.” Bri grins, leaning back into her chair more.

“What over under?” Nora demands.

“How long you’ll be gracing us with your presence.” Bri finally tells her and it’s worth it for the look on Nora’s face.

-----

“Beerdie tonight?” Matthew asks on your run the following morning.

“Shotty Taryn.” You grin at the look of outrage on his face and then sprint off ahead so he can’t catch up.

He does though, but by that point, you’re both far enough away from your parents’ houses that when he does, he captures you by the waist and pulls you in for a kiss.

“Mmm, not getting a workout in like this.” You tease, when you break the kiss.

He waggles his eyebrows. “I can think of another way we can get a workout in.”

You bust out laughing. It’s just such a lame line, you can’t help yourself. “Oh yeah? Where at?”

Turns out that trellis outside your room can hold Matthew just as well as you.

“Beach today?” You ask him afterwards. He’s still lounging in your bed as you move around your room, looking for the bottom to your bathing suit.

He pulls a face. “I guess.”

You laugh. “Boat tomorrow?”

That lights him up and serves to get him moving, just as you find your bottom and slip into it. “And just as I was enjoying the view.” He jokes, slipping past you with a playful pat on the ass and a kiss.

“Tragic.” You tell him, sarcasm clear. “What are you-” You stop yourself as you hear your mom’s voice getting louder and you watch Matthew’s eyes widen, sure that your face must be mirroring his.

Neither of you moves as her footsteps grow louder, her voice carrying her side of the conversation through the hall. 

And then, the sound of the door shutting, and muffled silence. She must be getting ready for the day.

You breathe out a sigh of relief, watching Matthew do the same. “I’ll see you soon.” You tell him, walking the few feet with him over to the trellis.

He grins; it’s somehow just as carefree as it was a few moments ago. “Looking forward to it. Bring beer.”

“Ugh it’s my turn, isn’t it?”

He grins, poised to climb down the trellis. “Yup.”

“Fuck.” You scrunch your face up. One more thing to remember. “You going to be okay to climb down that?”

But he’s already at the bottom, looking up at you with a mischievous grin, and for the first time this summer, you realize you may be in trouble. 

-----

“No.” Jake shakes his head, when Nora suggests heading to a party of one of her friends on the other side of the Cape. “No. Too far.”

She huffs at him. “Well then what do you want to do?”

“Can we just go to the bar?” He asks, almost pleadingly. “For God’s sake, we spent years dying to get into one and now that we all can, we haven’t been once.”

“Thank you!” Matthew cries. “I thought nobody was going to say it.”

“Why didn’t you say it?” You ask him.

“I-” He trails off and you grin at him, laughing when he just flips you off.

“Alright then.” Jake nods, like everything’s settled. “9pm, to the bars.”

“9?” Nora cries in disbelief, but she’s ready by 9:10, which is basically a record for her. 

Jake has laid out a whole plan for the night, a crawl through the town bars, but once you make it into the first one, you’re pretty sure that none of you are making it to his second stop.

Bri drags you and Nora out on the dance floor the second you get drinks and you lose yourself there for a while, or at least until your drink is empty. You ditch the girls for a refill, shimmeying your way through the crowd up to Ethan, Brady, and Melissa at the bar to place your order.

“Where’s your brother?” You ask and Brady rolls his eyes.

“Over there.” He points. “Being his usual…” But you don’t hear the rest of his sentence, too focused on the girls Matthew and Jake are talking with. Or more specifically, the girl Matthew’s talking with, the one who’s looking up at him while she twirls her hair and laughs at whatever he just said. 

Matthew’s allowed to do whatever he wants. You just talked about this. And, maybe more importantly, if you want to keep this thing between the two of you quiet, he should go off and do whatever he wants.

And you should too.

But judging by the sinking feeling in your stomach, the only thing you want is on the other side of the bar, talking with a pretty blonde.

When the bartender returns with your drink, you rush back to Bri and Nora, eager to try and forget what’s happening behind you. But you just don’t have it in you when a few guys approach the three of you and after one song, you find yourself back at the bar with Ethan, Brady, and Melissa for another round, unsure if you’re happy or not when you realize you can no longer see Matthew from where you’re standing.

“Gonna head home.” Ethan says, after he finishes his drink.

“Oh, I’ll come!” You down the last bit of your own.

He gives you a look. “You sure?”

“Mhm.” You nod, hugging Brady and Melissa goodbye. “Exhausted. Ready for bed.”

Ethan laughs as he holds the door open for you. “A college graduate and suddenly you’re an old lady. Ready for bed by 11?”

“Grandma status.” You laugh along with him, keeping the joke running as you wait for your Uber, so he won’t press any further, and it’s only much later that you realize how strange it is for him to be leaving so early.

-----

“Where’d you go last night?” Matthew asks, when you meet for your morning run. “I looked for you when I was leaving, Brady said you’d already left.”

You try to hide your surprise. You’d really just assumed he’d gone home-or at least gone somewhere- with that girl last night. “I left with E.” You’ve never seen his head move as fast as it turns toward you at that. “Whiplash much?” You laugh. “He was leaving so I left too. I was tired.” 

Matthew shakes his head. “Yeah, uh-” He shakes it again. In past years, that would have sent his curls flying in all different directions; this year, his hair’s too short for anything like that. It’s a good look for him. “Yeah, no, I just didn’t see you leave.”

You purse your lips, fighting back a frown. “Guess you just weren’t looking.” You shrug.

“Doubt it.” He mutters, or at least you think that’s what he says, because he changes the subject before you can ask. 

-----

A few days later, a round of storms roll in, and by lunchtime your mom is shooing you out of the house. “But it’s raining.” You whine at her. “What can I even do?”

“Are you 22 years old or not?” She frowns, guiding you away from the tile and cabinet samples. “How did you entertain yourself at school?”

“I literally didn’t, I was never alone!”

“Well you don’t have to be now either!” She smiles at you. “You go next door; send Chantal over here for some peace and quiet.”

Chantal is more than happy to trade places with you when you arrive, stopping only long enough to grab a bottle of wine for her and your mom to split, and you laugh as you close the door behind her, before looking for Matthew.

He’s not hard to find, the sound of him and his siblings quickly coming up from the basement as you start walking in the house.

“Fuck yeah!” Matthew grins when he sees you. Brady and Taryn are, as usual, ganging up against him in bubble hockey. “Let’s go, right here, come on.”

In classic older brother fashion, Matthew resets the score to zero once you get settled in your spot and he assigns you your handles, completely ignoring his siblings’ protests about how they were winning (and handily). And then, with an extra set of hands, he (and you) begin to dominate.

In public, both Matthew and Brady are gracious winners and losers. There’s light trash talk and playful teasing before their games and hugs and catching up afterwards. 

But in private? They go cutthroat.

So it quickly devolves into Matthew against Brady while you and Taryn watch and giggle from the side, occasionally calling out comments of your own and then laughing again at the snide looks they send you in return.

It’s not long before Matthew’s celebrating his victory-loudly and uninhibited- and Brady’s rolling his eyes, and wandering off upstairs. 

“God, you’re annoying.” Taryn says.

Matthew ruffles her hair and she scrunches her nose at him. “Part of my charm.”

“Mm.” She hums. “You tell yourself that.” And then she’s heading upstairs as well, leaving just you and Matthew behind.

“Well at least one of you thinks I’m charming.” Matthew grins at you.

“Oh.” You pull a face at him. “I don’t remember ever saying that.”

Matthew’s tackling you onto the couch practically before you finish speaking, kissing the laughter right out of you. It’s easy to get lost the same way you have been the last few weeks, when he’s pressing you into the couch, lips moving over yours, warm palm spread over bare skin.

It’s only when you feel like the entire world is spinning and you’re dizzy enough to pass out from it that you pull away. Everything settles a little, but still you feel caught in Matthew’s orbit, a feeling that you’ve noticed happening more and more often. Matthew’s thumb brushes against your ribcage, breathing heavily, and it’s only when he moves back in to kiss you again that you notice it’s both of you, barely able to catch your breath but still ducking in for more.

“Matth-” You try to breathe. It doesn’t do much good as Matthew just moves to kissing down your jaw. “Your siblings.”

“They won’t come down again.” He says, almost absentmindedly, clearly more focused on other things.

“They-” You start to say, but he shuts you up pretty quickly and luckily, he ends up not being wrong.

-----

“That’s what you wear?” Matthew mutters to you, almost too low. You have to strain to hear him over the wind, from where the two of you are sitting in the front of the boat, shoved there by your mom when Chase and Hayley had showed up unexpectedly a day early for Fourth of July week, a week traditionally filled with outings on the boat, barbecues, and family competition. 

You look down. “What’s wrong with what I’m wearing?”

He stares at you in disbelief. “We’re out here on a family boat day. And that’s what you show up in? Are you trying to kill me?”

You laugh. “Depends on what you left me in your will.”

He chuckles. “What I leave you in the will? You’ve been getting me into trouble since we were six years old and you think I’m leaving you anything in my will?”

You bust out laughing. “I’ve been getting you into trouble since we were six? Reverse that there, buddy.”

But Matthew’s shaking his head the entire time, fondly smiling like you’re missing the point entirely. 

-----

Selection night for the Beach Olympics takes place on a Sunday, as it always does, but this time it’s about ten times rowdier than it ever has been, with almost all of the kids being legal to drink and Taryn hiding the seltzer that Brady snuck her in a Sprite can

Keith holds his hat up high, filled with paper slips with numbers written on them. “Who’d like to go first?”

“I think as last winners, it’s our right!” Chase says and then gestures Chantal forward to pick before him.

The look on their faces as they draw their numbers, pleading to get the same again, and then revealing different ones is hilarious, but you barely have time to laugh at their reactions (Chantal’s face falling and Chase letting out a loud “Fuck!”) before it’s your turn. 

Your “5” doesn’t match either your brother’s “2” or Chantal’s “3” so you watch as the hat makes its way around pairing everyone up, until finally Matthew makes his choice and when his face lights up just before he meets your eyes, you don’t even need him to show your families the little slip he’s pulled to know that he’s got your matching “5.”

“Unfair!” Brady cries, even as he already sits next to his mom, his Beach Olympic partner for the next week, and she shoves him off the stool he’s sitting on. “What?” He looks at her. “C’mon!”

“Talk to me when you’re a Beach Olympic champion.” She says, purposefully adopting a haughty tone and you all laugh, as Taryn begins prepping the tiny toy flags.

Matthew moves next to you, nudging your side and grinning throughout the draft of countries. It’s hard to stifle your giggles, both of you laughing the entire time, the last team to draft, and watching as Taryn and your mom select Spain (because of the wine your mom was drinking currently), allowing Chase and your dad to snatch America up. Brady and Chantal select Canada, to no one’s surprise, and then Keith and Hayley pick Italy.

“We’ll be eating pasta only for the rest of the week.” He jokes, reaching for their toy flag, and she laughs but also looks like she’s not sure if he’s kidding or not.

“What do you think?” Matthew whispers to you, nudging your side again. “Mexico? Iceland?”

“The bad guys from Mighty Ducks 2? I don’t think so.” You quote a favorite show of the two of you and he grins immediately.

“Germany.” The two of you say simultaneously. “They’ve never been the bad guys in anything!” 

Matthew holds the tiny toy flag about his head as he makes the short walk back over to you and the rest of your families’ groan, but you only laugh, sure that sound is going to become familiar over the next few days.

-----

“C’mon, baby.” Matthew coaches, crouched in a ready position near the Kan Jam bin and it’s just one more day of easy affection, one more pet name falling out of his mouth that you can’t even react to. “Right here, give her to me, nice and easy.”

“You got nothing.” Your dad scoffs. “Weak flex.”

You grin at him, winding up to throw the frisbee; if it hits the can at all before Matt touches it, you and Matthew will lose points and that just won’t do. 

You release the frisbee, watching it arc and following Matthew’s eyes. He lunges once it gets close, throwing himself onto the sand to smack the frisbee into the can.

You cheer, loudly, as he hits it against the side and then the frisbee lands on the sand. 

Matthew’s whooping, just as loud, and running to meet you in the middle with his arms open, ready to catch you as you leap into his arms. He catches you when you jump up, spinning around a few times, and still cheering. 

“Ugh.” Your brother shakes his head. “This is just annoying now.”

“How are you this in sync?” Brady agrees.

You shrug as Matthew puts you back on the ground, but you don’t wander far from him. You haven’t all week, your partnership for the week a convenient excuse to have to be close to him…not that you really want to be apart from him. 

And all the time you’ve been spending together this summer has definitely been beneficial for your chemistry. Brady wasn’t wrong. You and Matthew had always been a pretty good team, your years of friendship translating well into team games, but now? This week you seemed unstoppable, midway through the week and already collecting a first or second place medal in every event so far. 

Puting you well in first place for the week, with each game the two of you only looking better and better. It was quickly driving your families’ nuts.

“Just the dream team, baby.” Matthew grins, finally answering his brother, but he doesn’t take his eyes off of you when he says it, so it’s hard not to think that he’s talking to you and even harder to avoid the flutter in your stomach when he says baby.

No one else is looking at you this time, at least. They can’t see if you blush. 

-----

For the fourth time this week, you say goodnight to your parents, go upstairs, and immediately climb down the trellis to the garden to meet Matthew.

“This feels ridiculous.” You complain to him, even as you feel the rush of seeing him, the thrill of this thing between only you. “I feel like we’re sixteen again and sneaking off to go drink at a party we’re not supposed to be at.”

“Doesn’t the secret make it kind of fun?” He asks, but only after he kisses you, which is definitely unfair. You had a point to make, but it’s gone entirely.

What’s that saying about secrets? Secrets are no fun...you can’t remember the rest anyway. “Easy breezy.” Instead, you echo your last promise, because that you can remember, made from this same spot, and Matthew links your pinky’s together at your sides as he moves in for another kiss.

-----

Closing ceremonies for the Beach Olympics takes place out on the boat, as usual, and you stand smugly between Brady and your dad, with a bottle of champagne and a smirk on your face.

“Show off.” Your dad says, shaking his head. “Didn’t anyone ever tell you it’s unbecoming to brag like that?”

“Like this?” You bite one of the-many-fake medals hanging around your neck, far more than anyone else on the boat...except Matthew, that is. 

Brady groans. “Fuck off.” He whines, definitely still bitter about his loss at bocce. 

But whatever he and your dad say next is lost to you, because Matthew’s caught your eye. He’d seen you joking with your dad, apparently, because he’s grinning when he catches your eye and then lifts one of his medals up to mimic what you’ve just done.

It’s hard not to laugh, feeling such fondness for him deep in your chest that it hurts almost, even as your dad and his brother look at you like you’re crazy, because he’s back to talking with his mom and looking completely normal by the time they turn around.

“What?” Brady presses again.

“It’s.-” You shake your head, because this feeling is so familiar but you just can’t place it. “Nothing, don’t worry about it.”

It’s just another thing between you and Matthew.

-----

“You got sand in my hair.” You groan, fixing your shirt as you sit up, reaching for one of the bottles of champagne you’d been sipping on since the celebration with your families earlier in the evening.

“Sorry.” Matthew says dryly. “Did you want to be on top next time?” You pull a face and he laughs, like he already knew the answer to that. “Yeah, that’s what I thought.”

“Not on the beach.” You shove his shoulder. “We’ve talked about this.”

“I can track you down a bed.” He says thoughtfully. 

“Fuck off.” You pull the champagne away from him, laughing. “Ass.”

He waggles his eyebrows playfully. “Oh, that’s on the table?”

“Oh my god!” You groan, but you’re still laughing. “I hate you so much.”

“Nah.” Matthew says confidently, and you can’t look away from him as he says, “You love me.”

You love me. It rings in your head as he steals the champagne bottle from you, and again as he helps you stand up, brushing the sand from your legs. It’s still echoing as the two of you walk back towards your houses, as Matthew sneaks into the garden with you, and helps you begin your climb up the trellis. 

It’s stuck in your head the entire climb up, it’s there as you turn back to face him, it’s there as you watch him smile back up at you now that he’s sure you made it to the top, and it’s there as you wave goodnight to each other and he starts walking back home.

“I’m fucking in love with you.” You realize out loud and Matthew turns, grinning up at you.

“What was that?” He calls back.

“Nothing.” You call back helplessly. “Nothing at all.” You repeat to yourself, turning away from him to go into your room before he sees the look on your face.

-----

Almost immediately following that realization, Matthew announces to you on your run he’ll be going to Toronto soon for a few days for a camp.

“Oh.” You say, kind of relieved. A few days to collect your thoughts and feelings actually sounds...nice. “When do you leave?”

“Not until Thursday.” He frowns. “And Big Walt and Chantal are even away at a wedding this weekend. Damn it, we could have had a bed.”

“Anal’s still not on the table.” You deadpan and he laughs so hard he has to stop running.

“Anything you want.” He promises, when he can finally stand up fully again and start running. “We’ve been good; nothing needs to change.”

It’s not until later that night, when you’re at the bar with all your friends, and Ethan and you are hanging at one end of the bar while Matthew and Jake are again out around the floor making the rounds, that you realize why that statement irked you.

You want something to change. 

-----

“Are you okay?” Bri gives you a look

It’s been a few days since realizing this casual, friends with benefits, “easy breezy” thing with Matthew wasn’t enough. And despite that, you’d done nothing different. You’d woken up each morning the same as every other one this summer to meet him for a run, ducking off the side of the path for kisses and then slipping away as he chases after you. Afternoons on the beach, sneaking glances through your sunglasses, pretending you don’t see him looking back at you, hoping your friends think the flush of your cheeks is from the sun and not recognizing it for the blush that it actually is. Pretending you were meeting friends at night when you were meeting Matthew instead, sneaking back in through the gate, like you were 16 again and trying not to wake your dad as you crept back in the house drunk off whatever cheap beer you could get your hands on (entirely different from how you stumble back home now, still drunk off whatever attention Matthew will give you, head still woozy with every kiss he pressed to your lips and the words he muttered to you between them).

“No, seriously.” She continues. “Are you okay?”

“Yup.” You giggle, reaching for your drink again. “Why?”

“I just haven’t seen you drink like this, I don’t know, maybe all summer?” She says.

Your jaw drops, outraged. “That’s not fair!” You cry. “I’ve had plenty to drink this summer! So many hangovers!”

“That...that’s not what I said at all.” She rubs her temples. “You just haven’t been drinking at this pace all summer.”

“I’m fine.” You tell her and she gives you a look as she pushes a cup of water toward you. “See?” You drain the entire cup and stick your tongue at her. “Fine.”

She laughs fondly, picking up her own drink. “If you say so, babe. Back to dancing?”

“Good 4 u!” You cry in excitement, leading her away from the bar, throwing your joined hands up in the air as you do.

“No, they’ve already played-” Bri shakes her head. “Nope, not worth it.”

Nora’s right where the two of you left her on the dance floor- with her boy of the week, who’s name you could not remember if your life depended on it. You last another song or two, begging Bri to let you go up and request your newest favorite song and being denied each time, before you get bored again, and wander off in search of your other friends. 

“Whastsa matter with you?” You frown, poking at Ethan’s sour face.

Brady pulls his head away from whispering to Melissa just long enough to say, “He’s just been sitting here being a grinch all night.”

You swipe the untouched drink in front of Ethan away from him for yourself, giggling as he doesn’t even attempt to stop you. “Christmas in July isn’t until next week, silly!”

That gets Ethan to crack a smile, finally, as he laughs at you. “What?” He grins again, before his face falls back into a frown.

You frown, turning unsubtly to follow his eyes but you can’t see anything worth frowning about. You wave when you see Nora and she laughs, waving back, and only when you wave back even more ridiculously do you turn back to the table. 

“Cheer up buddy.” Brady’s saying when you do, even as Melissa rolls her eyes. “They’ll be back soon. Those girls aren’t going home with them.”

Your breath catches in your throat, as you whip back around, missing Ethan’s response entirely. But sure thing, there’s enough of a cut in the crowd to see now, there’s Jake and Matthew with those girls. The same ones they’ve been chatting up every time you’ve been to this bar all summer. Right away, your thoughts are racing about what Jake and Matthew could have been doing with these girls all night long, while you were sure to keep your distance from him.

Well, specifically, what Matthew has been doing with the girl while you were staying away from him so no one could see the feelings written all over your face. The one you see laughing at all his jokes when the four of them are talking together, with ridiculous eyelashes that she bats up at him, and an equally crazy body that absolutely no one should be able to attain.

“Hey.” Melissa says quietly, studying your face, and it feels like she’s been doing that to all of you all summer, watching you to get a better sense of who you all are and where she fits. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah.” You plaster a smile on your face. “Just time for another drink, I think. I’ll be back.” 

You’re off to the bar before she can even follow, before one of the boys notices you’re missing, and it’s only when you’re crowded in between a dozen strangers trying to get the attention of the bartender do you feel like you can breathe again.

-----

“It’s time to go!” Bri tugs on your arm gently. “Come on, babe!”

“No.” You whine, dragging out the word. “I’m-” You hiccup. “-having fun.”

She looks at you in disbelief. “Flagged. Let’s go.”

“No!” You whine again. “All my friends are here.”

“All your friends are leaving.” Ethan says gently. “We’re right here.”

“They’re not!” You look over your shoulder wildly for Matthew, eyes scanning the crowd for a familiar face. “They’re not leaving!”

“We are!” Bri sighs. “Even Nora’s leaving. See,” She turns your head. “She’s waving!” 

“But-“ You wave back slowly. “That’s-“

“Everybody’s leaving.” Bri continues. “Or they’re already gone.” You feel numb as she takes your hand to pull you out of the bar, toward the Uber that Ethan has called. Their mindless chatter rolls over you as Bri’s words echo in your head and you leap to a place you don’t want to be in. That everyone else was already gone. That Matthew was already gone and that he left without saying goodbye.

The tears are rolling down your face before you even know what’s happening and suddenly you can’t stop. You’re hiccuping in the back of the Uber, crying huge crocodile tears that just keep rolling down your cheeks.

“Oh babe.” Bri says sympathetically, as the Uber driver looks back at you in the mirror skeptically.

“What’s wrong?” Jake frowns, looking over at you.

“I’m fine!” You sob.

“You’re crying in an Uber, sure, yeah, that’s what people who are notoriously fine do.” Ethan says dryly.

“Not helping.” Bri hisses to him, rubbing your back gently.

“I’m fine.” You sob again, even though he’s right, and it couldn’t be further from the truth.

-----

Midway through your run on the morning of the day Matthew is leaving for the weekend, he makes an abrupt turn off your usual path and continues running.

“Matthew!” You shout after him, stopped at the corner.

“Are you coming?” He calls back, not stopping his jog to look back at you.

You huff, but then take off after him, practically sprinting to catch up, and then having to ease back into a jog when he doesn’t pick up the pace. You have no idea what his plan is, why he turned off your usual route, or why he decided to go down this road instead of following your usual path to lead to the beaches between your houses, and he’s giving you no hints, so you’re stuck following him at this almost leisurely pace. 

He turns again, almost cutting you off, and then again, almost losing you when he cuts abruptly through a spot in some tall grass, leading finally to a very long wooden dock. You can’t even see where it leads to when you climb the steps up, but you follow him dutifully, slowing to a walk as he does the same. “Where are we going?” You ask again, falling into step with him, on the boards just wide enough for the two of you, the long path crossing over shrubbery and small pockets of salt water.

“Just wait a sec.” Matthew chides playfully. “You’ll see in a minute.”

“Ugh.” You whine, never patient enough, and he laughs, bumping your shoulder.

“It’ll be worth it.” He promises.

“Big promises.” You tease haughtily, but you’re eating those words as soon as you reach the end of the pier.

There’s a few steps to actually get down to the beach but you stop right at the edge of them, taking in the view in front of you The beach itself is empty, unsurprising maybe, for what you had to do to get here, but it’s peaceful- just you and Matthew, standing maybe a little too close but neither of you doing anything about it. To the left, the beach thins for a bit, the ocean spanning an endless stretch. To the right, off in the distance, your houses, on the horizon with some other familiar landmarks. 

“How’d you find this?” You ask, stuck between being breathless and grinning. The view is amazing but more than that; something about being in this place, with Matthew, standing with your shoulders brushing against each other just feels special. 

Fuck, it’s literally just a beach with a different view of your houses; you need to get this feelings shit under control.

“Brady and I found it years ago.” Matthew smiles softly, like it’s a fond memory. “Before it was all overgrown like that.”

“I like it.” You say, and then clarify. “The overgrown. It’s kinda cool.”

“A little character.” Matthew agrees. 

“More private too, I’m sure.”

“That too.” He smirks, purposefully bumping your shoulder so you laugh, which you do, before the two of you settle into a comfortable silence.

“What time do you leave today?” You ask finally, the question that’s been weighing on you since he even told you he was going.

“Too soon.” He grimaces, looking down at his watch. 

“Oh.”

“It’s always too soon.” He says, reaching for your waist and pulling you close.

“Don’t even tell me you’re not packed yet.” You chide, but you’re looping your arms around his neck as you speak and you can see the smirk growing across his face.

“Alright, I won’t.” He says and then he’s kissing you before you can lecture any further.

——-

“What’s wrong with you?” You flop down next to Ethan on the beach a few days later, holding your hand out expectantly for him to pass you a drink.

He takes his sweet time, slowly reaching into the cooler for a White Claw, and eyeing you carefully when he passes it over. “What’s wrong with me? You haven’t stopped moving since your partner in crime left the country for a few days. I could ask you the same thing!”

Your breath catches and your heart starts racing. You swore you’d been so careful this summer, that none of your friends had even noticed an change in either of you. “I’m crimeless.” You babble, playing off the joke. “I’ve had to be good for four whole days now.” You tease, but Ethan’s not even listening anymore, and you follow his eyes to watch Nora fall against another boy of the week after they score a point in volleyball, and you think maybe this isn’t about you at all.

——-

Matthew somehow manages to balance a bottle of Pink Whitney in his hands while climbing up your trellis and onto the balcony. 

“You weren’t even going to get up and give me a hand?” He flops down on the bed next to you, nudging for your attention with his shoulder, his elbow, his words.

You hold your Kindle up lamely in his direction. “I’m at a really good part.”

He opens the bottle and holds it out for you to take a swig. “Lame.”

“I guess you don’t want to hear all my gossip then.” You sigh dramatically, already grinning before you even finish your sentence, knowing his reaction. 

He doesn’t disappoint. “Gossip?” His ears perk up and he looks over at you, taking the bottle back for his turn. “Details, come on.”

You giggle. “Mmm, I don’t know if I should.” Matthew pokes your side, right in the spot he knows you’re most ticklish. “Stop that!” You slap at his hand.

“Never!” He does it again, then again, and then again, and then he’s rolling on top of you, and both your book and your gossip about Ethan and Nora are long forgotten as he yanks his own shirt off and then yours only a moment after.

——-

Nora’s newest man is having a party on his yacht for a bunch of his friends and she swings you all an invite.

“I’ve made some very wrong decisions in my life.” Melissa says as soon as you, her, Matthew, and Brady arrive, eyeing the yacht, the staff member waiting to greet you, and how Nora is waving eagerly at you from the deck.

“Now’s your time to find an upgrade.” Matthew quips, only barely avoiding spilling the Bellini he was just handed when Brady elbows him in the ribs.

Melissa looks both vaguely horrified and amused, but you, used to their antics, roll your eyes. “If you break that $200,000 vase, you’re going to be sorry.”

“That vase costs $200,000?” Brady lowers his voice as you start to approach the upper deck and the rest of the party, but it doesn’t manage to hide his shock.

“One eighty nine, nine, I think, if you want to get technical, but,” You shrug. You’d seen it last week with your mom when you were out shopping with her for the remodel. “Basically, yeah.”

Brady still hasn’t managed to wipe the look of shock off his face when Nora throws herself at you. She gets you and Matthew in one go, him steadying the three of you as she laughs, definitely already tipsy. “You’re here!” She beams.

“And now I might never leave.” You look around you. 

Nora waggles her eyebrows. “That’s fine; Tom’s got a brother.”

You laugh. “Sure, okay. And when you break up with Tom next week and I’m here alone with the brother?”

“You’ll still have a yacht.” Melissa jokes.

“Good point.” You grin at her.

“Nor, where’s the bar?” Matthew interrupts before any of you can make any more jokes about Nora trying to set you up again. 

“Right here!” She chirps, leading you all through the crowd to the bar, where Bri and Jake are already posted up. “I’ll be back soon!” She promises, after ordering a drink with you.

“Sure, ok.” Jake rolls his eyes at her and she grins at him before slipping through the crowd.

“No E?” Matthew asks, swirling the ice around his bourbon. 

Bri shrugs. “He said he was busy today.”

“Huh.” Matthew says and abruptly you remember you never got a chance to tell him your theory about Ethan and Nora. “He didn’t mention anything yesterday.” 

“Probably came up suddenly.” You say and then ask the bartender for a round of shots, because you can relate to loving someone who doesn’t love you back, whether Ethan knows it or not, and there’s a sense of solidarity it gives you.

——-

“Yacht parties fucking rule.” Melissa decides, an hour or two in, definitely tipsy on champagne drinks, and grinning each time someone walks around with trays of snacks.

You laugh. “I fucking love you.” You smack a kiss to her cheek.

She giggles again. “I fucking love you guys too. This has been such a fun summer.”

“Yeah, we’re fun fucking people!” Bri beams, getting a little too excited and spilling the last little bit of her drink. “Oops.”

“It was time for another one anyway.” You assure her and she grins.

“That’s my girl!” She stands, pointing at you and Melissa. “You better be done with those by the time I get back with another round!”

You drain yours before she even turns around. “Ready whenever!”

She cheers and parts the crowd, leaving you and Melissa. “Have you seen the boys lately?” You ask, scanning the crowd.

“They were playing shuffleboard earlier.” She looks behind her. “But I don’t see them now.”

You do. Or well, you see Matthew at least, still at the shuffleboard table, laughing at whatever the beautiful girl next to him just said. She’s one of those girls, the ones that make everyone feel inadequate the second she walks in the room, so of course she’s funny too.

Your stomach twists as Matthew laughs again and it’s not because you’ve had too much to drink. In fact, you think, as your stomach twists again watching Matthew lean in closer to that girl, you’re pretty sure you haven’t had enough to drink.

——-

“Where are we going?” You giggle as Matthew tugs on your hand, leading you down an empty hallway below the main party. 

He gives you a look. “Come on, really?” He puts his ear up to a closed door and makes a face; you giggle again, but don’t have much time to follow up about why because he's pulling you down the hall to the next door, listening again, and then pulling you inside. As soon as the door closes, you press against him, not sure who kisses who first, only certain that you need more, more, more of him. 

You can’t seem to get close enough to him, even when he lifts you up. Your legs wrap around his waist, hands teasing the ends of the hair that’s just starting to grow out. Matthew’s hands roam, one hand caressing your cheek and then sliding lower down your back and then teasing lightly along your rib cage, like he can’t decide what he wants. 

“Been waiting for this all day.” He breathes out, pressing kisses down your jawline. “Can’t get enough of this.”

You nod eagerly. You too. You could have been doing this all day, couldn’t you? What was stopping you? 

It’s hard to think as Matthew kisses you again, but you do pause, until his hands reach around to untie your bathing suit top. “Holy shit.” He mutters as it falls to the ground, eyes wide, and as flattering as it is, that moment apart is enough for you to remember why you weren’t doing this earlier.

And how, at the end of the day, you were still in love with someone who didn’t love you back. 

“I can’t do this anymore.” 

You don’t even realize you’ve said anything until Matthew stops, until he’s staring at you in confusion, until he’s stepping away and you have to catch yourself on the door handle. 

“Ok yeah-“He babbles. “No, I’m sorry,  I didn’t mean to pull you away-yeah, of course we can stop-we-“

“I don’t-“You start, annoyed he didn’t get it, that this is the one thing he hasn’t been on the same page about all summer, that this is really the one fucking thing you actually have to explain to him; and it feels like tears are coming, but you fight them back. “No, that’s not-This isn’t easy anymore! This isn’t the simple thing we were doing, Matty!”

“I don’t-” Matthew cuts off abruptly, running his fingers through the curls that have just started to grow back. “I don’t want to screw up if we try harder.”

We’re not trying, you want to say. We’ve barely been trying, want to scream. Instead, you reach down and gather your top, tying it back up and leaving him still gaping.

Every day it seems like you fall deeper for him, find something else about him that you want to wrap up and keep close to you, before the memories of this fade away, just as the summer always does, pulling Matthew-and your relationship- away with it.

—--

“You know, you can’t avoid him forever.” Ethan drops down into the chair next to you, and only when you’re sure he’s alone, do you open your eyes from the nap you were pretending to take.

“Avoid who?” You say, too quickly to even feign innocence. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He snickers, signaling for you to hand him a drink. “But if I were avoiding someone, I’d say you’d be severely underestimating my ability to commit to the bit.”

He laughs. “Alright, that’s a good point.”

“Should watch out for that glass house, too.” You say, and he takes a minute to press his cold can against your skin as payback before he opens it.

“Alright.” Ethan says finally, almost reluctantly. “I’ll talk if you do.”

You side-eye him, looking to see how serious he is. “Matthew and I have been hooking up all summer, except I’m in love with him and he’s only in it for the fun and games.” You wave the fingers of your free hand around sarcastically. “If it’s not easy breezy fucking Cover Girl…’

Ethan gives you a look. “Do you need another drink?” You do and he waits patiently for you to dig for a new White Claw and open it before saying, “Nora and I hooked up this year at school.” You choke on your new drink, the carbonation going down hard, and Ethan laughs hollowly. “I thought it’d be fine. It was. We’d get here, it’d be like any other summer.” He trails off, but you don’t need him to continue. 

You’ve been living it.

“Easy breezy.” You hold your can out for him to cheers against. “Seems so simple.”

“Easy breezy.” He clinks his can against yours.

“Shit.” You see Matthew and Brady walking out of the ocean, still talking and hopefully distracted enough still to notice you still. “Gotta go.”

Ethan’s cackle might have given you away though. That, or the one flip flop you left behind in your haste to get away in time.

——-

You manage to successfully avoid Matthew for four days before he takes the matter into his own hands. 

It’s not long after dinner, another burger night at the club with your parents where even they had commented on how they haven’t seen him for a few days, a conversation that made you want to crawl under the table and die, but instead only left you just on the wrong side of tipsy.

Maybe it’s because of that that Matthew tumbling into your room via the trellis comes as such a surprise.

“Jesus Christ!” You gasp, climbing out of bed to run over to him. “What the fuck?”

“I’m fine.” He says, standing up and brushing non-existent dirt off his shoulders. “Thanks for asking.”

“I’ve made that fall many times. Stop milking it.” Matthew grins back at you and now you know for sure that he’s fine. Which brings you back to your initial reaction. “What are you doing here?”

He gives you a look. “How else was I supposed to see you? You know, considering you’ve been avoiding me.” He pulls your flip flop out of his pocket. “I have your shoe, by the way.”

“Oh, I’ve been looking for this.” You say lamely.

“Jesus Christ.” He snickers and you can’t help but laugh. At least it breaks the tension a little, or at least it does, until Matthew stops laughing to smile at you instead, long enough that you stop laughing too.

“What?” You ask, the laugh still kind of fading away with the word.

“Nothing.” He shakes his head. “It just feels like it’s been forever since I’ve heard you laugh like that now.”

And then it’s abrupt, the return of the tension. You feel your shoulders hike up, almost defensively, and Matthew’s eyes flash. “Not a lot of reason to laugh lately, I guess.”

He sighs, looking almost defeated. “What? What is it?” You shake your head. “Just tell me! Come on.” And you know what? If that’s how he wants to play it, fine. He’s the one that’s so concerned with screwing it up, then he can pick up the pieces too.

“I love you!” You laugh hollowly, a little vindicated with how many emotions wash over his face at your words. Good. You’ve been pushing them down deep for weeks; he can work on them for a bit now. “Isn’t that the worst fucking thing you’ve ever heard?”

“No.” Matthew says quietly. “It’s really not.”

“What?” You frown, but he’s crossing the room and kissing you before you can say anything else.

“I messed up the other day.” Matthew kisses you again. It’s hard to concentrate when he’s kissing you like this, so you step away. “I don’t-I don’t want to screw up with you if we try harder. Because you mean too much to me. I don’t want to lose you.”

You bite your lip. “I don’t want to lose you either, but I can’t. I can’t keep this secret anymore.”

“I know.” He says. “I told my mom; she’s waiting to have drinks with us.” He’s so serious that your jaw drops for a second, but then he cracks a grin. 

“You ass-oh my god!” You groan. “No, not again.

Matthew’s grinning as he steps closer to you, pulling you in for another kiss. “Dunno, that joke might never get old.”

“We’re breaking up.” You declare, which is a little hard to do as he’s in the middle of trying to kiss you again. “I’ve changed my mind.”

“Nah.” He teases you. “You love me.”

“Worst fucking thing you’ve ever heard.” You agree, finally allowing him to kiss you how he wants.

“Best fucking thing.” He corrects. “I love you, too.”

[offside-the-lines]

tell me who i run to (if not you) | anthony beauvillier | Ep 3. Pal-entine's Day

This is a completed series! Read Full Fic | 🧸 Series Cover Page/Masterlist 🧁 | 🎵 Playlist 🎶 << Previous Episode || Ep 3 || Next Epissode>>

Episode synopsis:Tito returns her kindness by being a shoulder Evie can lean on when she is having a hard time after all-star break. She tells him it’s anxiety about work. He brings her a box of pastries and they cuddle on the couch all day; he doesn’t realize it’s Valentine’s Day. Later, a hook-up goes very wrong.

A/N: You can refer to cover page for the series summary, author's notes, tropes, general warnings and other fun tidbits. This series contains mature themes. Minors DNI. Warnings: This episode contains mentions of a past toxic relationship and sex that occurs off screen. Disclaimer: This series is set in Chicago but does not mention the name of the team.

Word count: 4.8k // 44.5k

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Pal-entine’s Day

Evie — February 10

It’s late when Evie finishes work for the day. She rubs her eyes and finishes her cup of tea, which is now less than lukewarm. She sighs. This was kind of her own doing. She didn’t work as much as she should’ve in January, especially in the week that Tito stayed over, which means she’s feeling more behind than she would like them to be. Not to mention, this latest work she was editing was full of so many glaring issues that the document has more comments than text at this point.

She puts her phone down and rests her head on the table. 

She doesn’t regret it. Tito had been clearly so down in the dumps after his wrist injury. She had taken him to the different museums, touristy sights, and fun restaurants around town that she had been meaning to get to; she had thought that she would catch up on her work when he was in Florida with his brother’s family during Bye Week. 

She doesn’t regret it because their adventures brightened his mood every time, his glowing smile seared on the inside of her eyelids. She thinks about the time she had taken him to the Skating Ribbon in Maggie Daley Park on a particularly bad day. 

He had come back from the rink dejected after being told he couldn’t join no-contact practice yet. He had been cleared to skate, though. So, the joy on his face when he stepped onto the ice again, even if it was a park and not an NHL arena, made them both feel a hundred pounds lighter.

She doesn’t regret it. It’s just that— Unfortunately, her plan to catch up on work during Bye Week didn't happen. The day after Tito left for Florida, her apartment felt startlingly empty. 

It reminded her of when she had first moved to Chicago. She had just a couple of boxes and suitcases. She left behind all the remnants of her life with Pierre. Those plates, pillows, and knickknacks didn’t feel like they belonged in her life anymore. That’s why she moved, right? To get a clean start at age 28. 

It wasn’t just stuff she had left behind. It was her whole life, a life that had looked increasingly foreign in those final months anyway. All of their friends, all of their stuff, all of their memories. He could keep them. She just wanted out.

Those first months in Chicago had felt so lonely, living without anyone else for the first time ever. It was hard to make friends in a new city, so she spent a lot of time just in her apartment. The thought kept creeping into her head that she would probably be alone forever and regret leaving her seemingly perfect relationship behind in Toronto. 

She downloaded and deleted Bumble probably ten times in the first few months.

Eventually, she met Kelsey, Leanne, and the others at a work-sponsored holiday party. They were unhappy that she hadn’t reached out sooner. So, with them dragging her out of her house a few times a week to whatever restaurant, bar, or event, she eventually settled into life in Chicago. Looking back, she’s not quite sure when her one-bedroom apartment started to feel like home.

That's why she’s so shocked to find herself once again feeling unsettled. Her sleep hasn’t been great either, making her sluggish and heavy. In the week or so since Tito left for Florida, she has only left her house twice. Both of them were to see him play when he returned to the lineup after the All-Star break. 

When she looks around her apartment, she can see the small pile of his clothes that sits at the far end of the couch. She had washed them while he was away and folded them so they would be clean when he came back. 

That was a week ago. 

She’s happy that he’s back at training and back in the line-up. She appreciates the rigorous schedule that he's sticking to to get back to the top of his game. 

She understands that means she takes a back seat. It’s just that she wishes a little part of her didn’t resent it or herself for missing his company that she didn’t know she had gotten so used to.

She doesn’t pester him, though, not when he was on vacation and not now that he’s been back training. He still texts her every day, and she tries not to get too excited when he does, being mindful to not be too suffocating and demanding of his time and attention.

She figures it’s probably not a bad idea to realign her priorities: to focus on her work and on the book that she wants to finally finish soon.

Tito — February 14

Tito watches as the sky begins to lighten and decides to just give up on going back to sleep. He reaches over and checks his phone. 

5:48 am. 

Great. 

He unlocks his phone, which opens to the text thread with Evie he had been staring at after the game last night.

Monday, 4:46 pm evie 🧁: sorry, i don’t think i’ll be coming to the game tomorrow. i’m just totally under water with work right now. To evie 🧁: damn, that sucks. i’m sorry. do you want me to come over with some dinner tonight? To evie 🧁: or after the game tomorrow?

He didn’t receive a reply until past midnight that night.

Yesterday, 1:18 am evie 🧁: nah, it’s okay To evie 🧁: good morning to you too. how're you doing? work hasn’t killed you right? i can bring over some lunch. i bet you havent been eating much. Read

He quickly swipes out of his messages and locks his phone again. 

He stares out the window. They have only known each other for less than two months, but not hearing from Evie for so long throws him off-kilter.

This is so unusual, given their typical rhythm, that even if work has been busy, he’s worried, and underneath the worry, he’s confused. It seemed unlike Evie to not be open with him about whatever was bothering her— at least, he thought she was.

A little while later, he finds himself sitting in front of her favorite bakery on his way to her apartment. He waits for the clock to hit 9 a.m. before he heads in and picks up breakfast for them both: a selection of pastries and two coffees. It’s busier than he expects, but there are still plenty of their favorites left. 

He’s been to Evie’s building enough times now that the doorman recognizes him and buzzes him up the elevator straight away with a nod. It’s only when he's standing outside her door that he realizes he should've probably texted beforehand to make sure she was free.

Too late now. Tito rings her doorbell, his heart in his throat as he listens for any sound inside.

Somewhere between 30 seconds and 10 minutes later, he hears some shuffling, and the door opens slowly. Standing in the entryway is Evie rubbing her eyes with the sleeve of his Canucks hoodie, sleep shorts barely peaking out under the hem. He rips his eyes away from the soft skin of her legs. 

She startles when she sees him, her eyes wide. Her messy hair and fuzzy slippers only intensify the warm fondness buzzing in his chest.

“Um, hi,” she says, stepping aside to wave him in. “What’s all this?”

“Nice hoodie,” he beams at her, a crooked smile tugging on the corner of his lips.

“What?” She looks down and immediately covers her face with her hands. “Oh shit, this is yours. I was just grabbing the first hoodie I saw, and it was sitting on my— I’m sorry, do you want it back? I can go change.”

“Hey,” he says gently, setting the food down on the kitchen counter. “No, keep it on. I can’t really wear it out anymore, and it looks good on you.”

She cracks a smile for the first time this morning.

“Here, I brought you some breakfast and coffee— peppermint mocha, half sweet, with oat milk. I figured you might need something stronger with all the late nights you’ve been working.”

She stares at him silently for a long time before reaching for the coffee and whispering a quiet, “Thanks.”

He smiles at her and pulls her in for a quick hug, feeling some of the tightness in his chest melt away as he breathes in her scent. As he pulls back, he waves her to the couch.

“Go, sit.” He pushes her gently. “I’ll bring over the food.”

As if on cue, her stomach grumbles. “What did you get? Oh! Oooh! Good Ambler. My favorite,” she says excitedly, finally looking more like herself.

He smiles to himself as he puts the food down on the coffee table. “Yeah, I know! I got us the quiche and a bunch of their pastries.” He opens the box and watches as her eyes light up.

She laughs, “Wow, you really went all out.” 

“I guess I did,” he shrugs.

They eat in a comfortable silence for a while, both deep in thought. It’s been a few days since Tito has set foot in her apartment. He feels more at home here than in his own place. There are touches of Evie everywhere. 

She has shelves next to the TV console that are covered in books. There are at least five more books spread around the room. Her fuzzy blanket is draped across the back of the couch. There are candles on her coffee table, sitting next to colorful coasters with bad book puns on them. Unhung art and posters are leaning against the bottom of the walls. The space is so clearly lived in and loved.

Although, as he looks around, he can see the signs that things might be a bit off. There are dirty dishes piled up in the sink when there usually wouldn’t be any. There are stacks of papers spread across various surfaces. A box next to the bin for the overflowing trash. He counts at least seven mugs of mostly drunk tea around the space.

He frowns.

“So,” he starts cautiously, “how've you been?” He winces at how awkward that sounds.

“Oh, you know. Same old, same old. Busy? I guess mainly.” She stares at the muffin in her hands, pointedly avoiding his skeptical expression.

He sighs and reaches over, his broad hand lightly covering her wrist. “Hey, I feel like something has been off recently, and I want to know what’s going on. Is it just work that’s been crazy? Or is there something else?”

Evie looks up at him finally; their eyes meet, both assessing the other. He can see the dark circles that dull her tired eyes, her expression pained.

“Yeah, I’ve just been having trouble getting stuff done. But it’s not a big deal. It’s fine, though. I can handle it.” She frowns and picks at the remaining half of the muffin. 

“Hey,” Tito says gently. He reaches out, takes the muffin, and puts it down before taking her hands in his. The movement makes them turn to each other. “It’s okay if you’re struggling. Just tell me how I can help. I won’t judge you, okay?”

She shakes her head, tugging her hands back and hugging them to her body. “Yeah, I know, but I’m okay. I don’t want to be a pain—”

“Evie,” he says gently, “Asking for help doesn’t make you a pain. Look, we’re friends, right? You were there for me last month when I was having a really bad time. And now I want to be here for you. You should let me help where I can. Or at least tell me what’s wrong. I can’t guarantee I’ll always say or do the right thing, but I’ll listen, and I’ll try to help where I can, okay?”

She looks at him, searching his face for a lie and not finding one in his open and caring expression. “Okay,” she whispers with a small smile.

“Okay.”

He hands her back her muffin, and they finish up their breakfast. He takes their trash to the kitchen, and despite her complaints, he does the dishes as he makes them both a cup of tea.

When he sits back down on the couch, he finally speaks again, “So, are you going to tell me what’s wrong? Or at least, if there’s anything I can do to help?”

She heaves a big sigh but does smile at him warmly before settling into the couch. “I guess I just had a kinda bad week last week? I'm kinda behind on stuff, and I got really in my head about it. Remember how I told you I moved here after a bad breakup? Well…” She shrugs.

“You don’t need to explain if you don’t want to. I know it sucks. I mean, I haven’t dated anyone seriously since before the pandemic. But we actually broke up like January 2020, so those first few months in lockdown were really rough. Just bad feelings and a whole lot of time.” 

She looks up at him, “Oh. I had no idea.”

“It’s not a big deal. That was quite a few years ago at this point, anyway. I’m over it now, but— I’m just saying that I know it can be hard.”

“Yeah,” she nods, fiddling with her mug before finally saying, “Honestly, I’m not that bummed about the breakup. It wasn’t bad or anything. Or at least nothing bad happened. Things just sort of just… I don’t know. I was just feeling like shit all the time.

“By the time I left, I had already been mentally checked out for a while, so I wasn’t really sad at all anymore. It was mainly hard because our lives were so entwined. 

“We had gone to grad school together, and we were working at the same company. We had all the same friends, and everyone loved him, you know? So, it was hard to leave that behind.”

He reaches out and squeezes her knee, encouraging her to keep talking.

“It’s just… I hate it, feeling like I’m falling behind.”

“Like on work?”

She nods weakly.

“Well, if it’s anything I’ve had to learn in my career, you’re more than your productivity. You don’t need to be perfectly productive all the time to be contributing something.”

“Yeah… it’s just that—” Evie sighs.

“What?”

She swallows heavily and looks out the window. “It’s just that… I hate feeling behind at work because it makes me feel like I’m behind on my career. And that’s really all I have right now. After— Like, I’m 28 years old, and what do I have to show for it.”

He studies her face and squeezes her knee again, drawing her gaze back to him. “Who told you that?”

“What?”

“Who told you that you’re behind on life?”

“Well… Pierre? I guess. My ex. He used to talk about success milestones—”

“Success what?” he interrupts.

She powers on. “Just, like, things I should accomplish by a certain age. And when I left, you know? I set back my life? Single again. Starting over. And when I left, Pierre kinda pointed that out. And all I have left is my career— a struggling career.”

“Okay, honestly?” He says, fuming, “Fuck Pierre. Like, what the fuck is that?”

“No,” she shakes her head, chewing on her bottom lip, “No. I don’t— He’s right.”

“He isn't right.” He's sitting up now, fully facing her. “He's not— Firstly, your career isn't struggling. You have a job you enjoy, and from everything I’ve heard from Kelsey and Leanne, you’re fucking good at it. You’re making progress with finishing your book every week, which is awesome. I see you working your ass off all the time. And on top of all that, you're a great fucking friend. And a great fucking person.”

He shakes his head and sighs loudly. “Evie, you don’t have to complete some stupid made-up checklist to be successful. Only you get to decide what counts as success in your life. That's the dumbest shit I’ve ever heard. Honestly, Evie, I'm saying this as your friend, fuck Pierre for making you feel lesser and smaller with this bullshit.”

She looks at him, her face betraying her surprise at his outburst. His cheeks are warm and probably a little flushed, but he doesn’t care. He can feel the anger in his veins, opening and closing his fists to dispel some of the energy.

“I guess?” she says finally. “Pierre’s really not a bad guy. He’s a good person. We just— He just wasn’t a good fit for me.”

“Okay,” he concedes, silently disagreeing with her assessment.

“Thanks, though. For saying that. It means a lot.” She reaches out and squeezes his clenched fists. “Thank you. I'm okay, really. Overall, in the grand scheme of things, anyway. I’m sorry I didn’t come to your game yesterday.”

“It’s okay. You don’t have to come to every game. It’s just an offer.” He smiles softly. “I mean, I’d love to have you there, obviously, but I’ll understand if you don't.”

“Okay,” she smiles back.

“So, do you think you can take today off? I think you might be a little burnt out.”

She sighs and looks at her phone, the emails trickling in. She knows she has the time; she always makes herself finish far earlier than whatever deadline her director gives her. She fires off a quick message to the group, telling them she’s taking a mental health day, before putting her phone face down on the coffee table.

“Yeah,” she smiles, “I can take today off.”

“Good,” he beams. He puts his arm around Evie’s waist and pulls her into his side. He reaches for the remote. “That’s good because I haven’t seen any Brooklyn Nine-Nine in like two weeks, and I know the next episode is a Halloween heist episode, and it’s been killing me.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, dummy. That’s our show. I can’t watch it without you.”

She laughs, “Okay.”

He puts on the show, smiling as it plays the cold open. He turns to her and tugs her in closer.

“Hey, Evie?”

“Yeah?”

“Please just tell me what’s bothering you next time, okay?”

“Yeah, okay. I will. I promise.” She smiles up at him from his side, and he feels his chest tighten.

A few episodes later, they've slid down on the couch so that she’s almost lying on top of him. He looks down at her head on his chest to see her sound asleep. He pauses the show and pulls out his phone.

To jason dickinson: yo, do you have any more restaurant recs? evie’s been having a rough week, i’m thinking maybe taking her out for dinner today might cheer her up jason dickinson: eyyyyyyy get it!!!!!! To jason dickinson: ????? get what??? jason dickinson: uh? is this a trick question?  To jason dickinson: no? jason dickinson: a date? laid? idk To jason dickinson: WHAT?!!!! jason dickinson: you’re asking for a date spot right? To jason dickinson: wtf jason, no. we’ve been through this. we’re just friends. jason dickinson: riiiiiiight. just friends who ask for a date spot on valentine’s day

Tito’s eyes widen as he glances at the calendar app on his phone.

February 14.

Valentine’s Day.

Fuck.

Next to him, Evie stirs, yawning.

“Hey,” she says, her voice muffled, “You paused the show?”

“Yeah, you fell asleep.”

She chuckles. “I guess I did.” She looks up at him and frowns. “What’s up, Tito? You got a weird look on your face.”

“Oh, um. I just realized what day it was.”

“What day is it?” she looks at her phone.

“Yeah, it’s Valentine’s Day.”

“Oh!” she laughs, shaking her head. She pulls away, sitting up, and runs her fingers through her hair. “Okay? Did you have plans? I’m good here if you want to go.”

“What? No? What plans would I have?”

“I don’t know, Anthony. Maybe you’re an international man of mystery,” she laughs, lightly shoving his knee.

“Sure I am,” he says, rolling his eyes, “That’s not what I meant, though.”

“What did you mean then?”

“I don’t know. Maybe you have plans.” She gives him an unimpressed look. “Okay, well, maybe you don’t have plans. But I didn’t get you anything.”

“Do friends get friends Valentine’s Day gifts?”

He sucks in a breath. “I mean, no? I don’t know.”

“You did get me a whole box of pastries. I feel like that’s pretty good. I mean it’s not like I’ve ever celebrated Valentine’s Day before.”

He freezes, brows furrowed.

“What? You never celebrated with Pierre?”

“Nope,” she shakes her head.

“Weren’t you together for like five years?”

“Yep!” she shrugs. “He just wasn’t into that sort of stuff. He thought it was stupid and a waste of money.”

“Come on, what the fuck?” he says, rolling his eyes.

“Yeah, we never did anniversaries either. It’s not a big deal.”

“Please tell me he at least did birthdays.”

“I guess. I mean, he always got me birthday and Christmas presents, but usually nothing major. I always planned a dinner and stuff with our group of friends for my birthday.”

He studies her face, his brows furrowed.

She sits up. “What?” 

“Seriously?”

She nods.

“I bet he always got you to plan his birthday parties too.” He rolls his eyes and sighs. “I don’t mean to be rude, but like. Fuck Pierre, man.”

She’s quiet for a second before saying softly, “It’s really not a big deal.”

He shakes his head. “I mean, sure, Valentine’s Day is kinda stupid and cheesy. But that’s the point. It doesn’t mean you shouldn’t use it as an excuse to show someone you love them.”

“Wow, Anthony. I didn’t know you were such a romantic,” she grins, bumping his shoulder.

“I’m not. He just sounds like he was being lazy and didn’t really care to try.”

“It’s really not that big of a deal, Tito. Guys're just like that.”

His eyes follow the sad smile she gives him, and he pauses. Her eyes are a little glassy, and her cheeks redder. He knows when to leave something be.

“Guys are absolutely not ‘just like that,’” he says, making air quotes. “But I’ll drop it.”

He lays back down, tugging on her arm. He mutters, “I just think that he should've cared enough to try, like, even a little bit.”

“God, you're such a sap. Imagine your teammates hearing about this.”

“I wouldn't be embarrassed, Evie. Like, at all,” he looks at her flatly.

She rolls her eyes and lays back down against him.

A few minutes later, she speaks up again. “So, you want to hit up some clubs tonight? Things always get hot and heavy on Valentine’s Day. Good night to pick-up.”

“It’s Wednesday, and I’ve got a game tomorrow,” he says, his voice hollow as he forces his eyes to stay on the screen.

“Lame,” she says, a relieved smile on her lips that he doesn't see.

Evie — March 2

When Evie comes to, she’s lying on her bed with her arm covering her eyes, panting. Her body still feels tingly, in the way it does after good, wild sex. It always leaves her a little dizzy and disoriented. She can hear the sound of heavy breathing next to her. She hums, pleased.

Her other outstretched hand is buried in soft hair. She tugs on a curl and smiles. She loves his curly hair. Evie has always had thick, straight hair, a blessing and a curse; it has never felt as soft as curly hair does. Her fingers twirl around the curl, playing with the springy coil.

She thinks maybe Tito will let his hair grow even longer. He looks so good with longer hair that forms actual curls. The way it falls in front of his eyes a bit makes him look so soft. She thinks about how he lays on the couch lazily, his hair splayed out on the cushion, and how his shirt rides up to show the sliver of skin above his low-slung sweats when he gets comfortable.

The urge to ask him if he’s going to cut his hair soon overtakes her exhaustion, and she moves her arm to look over.

“So—” Evie starts before she furrows her brows.

At that moment, she notices that instead of Tito’s baby blues, she's met with a pair of wide-eyed browns. Her entire body freezes as the night slams back into her consciousness. 

The dancing, the flirting, the meaningful looks, the cab ride home, the sex. God, the sex was fucking good. Her limbs hum in agreement as her chest tightens.

Well, these eyes gaze at her lazily, warm and soft. Evie’s hand is still in her curly mess of hair. The first thing she thinks is that it's actually longer than Tito’s hair is now before she immediately banishes his name from her mind completely. 

Evie can’t seem to relax her body enough to free her voice, which is caught in her throat.

Shit, what is her name?

Natalie? Natalia? Natasha? Nat for sure—

“Don’t worry,” Nat states, smirking, “I’m not staying. Just trying to catch my breath before leaving.”

Evie can’t help but feel unsettled and disoriented, but she forces her mind to quieten. Nat is really hot, and they did have a really good night. Slowly, Evie puts a coy smile back on her face and blinks slowly at her. 

“You don’t have to leave? If you don’t want to. I didn’t mean to kick you out.”

Evie has absolutely no idea why she just said that. She has never asked a hook-up if they want to stay. It must show on her face because Nat laughs. She shakes her head and presses another heated kiss to Evie’s lips, reminding her why she feels like she’s still floating outside of her body.

“I’ll get going.” Nat shakes her head and stands up, looking for her clothes in the mess on the floor. Evie probably should've cleaned up a little before going out.

She leans up on her elbows and lets her eyes trail down Nat’s body. Her mind finally focuses, and she whistles. “Are you sure you don’t want to stay?”

Nat laughs. 

“Yes, baby girl. I’ve got to go to work tomorrow. This was very good, though,” Nat says while putting on her clothes. “Don’t worry. I’m not going to ask for your number or when we’ll see each other again. So you don’t need to give me the spiel. I knew— know what this was.”

Evie laughs at the exaggerated wink Nat gives her. She feels a little lighter with relief at that.

“Can I use your bathroom, though? Before I go.”

“Yeah, it’s right through there.”

“Thanks.” Nat sends her a warm smile before slipping into the bathroom.

Evie lays back down and rubs her eyes. That was fucking weird, what the—

Her bathroom door flies open.

“What the fuck?” Natalie says, holding up Tito’s bread trimmer.

“What?” 

“Do you have a boyfriend or something? Did you just fucking use me to cheat on someone?”

“No?” Evie sits up, confused.

“Don’t fucking lie to me. I was willing to overlook the men’s shoes and coat in your entryway; maybe they’re a friend’s. I was willing to overlook the sweatshirts and sweatpants strewn around your room. I figured maybe you just like being comfortable.” 

“What?” she squeaks through the lump in her throat.

Nat powers through her interruption. “But there’s a fucking beard trimmer in there. Two toothbrushes. Two towels. A curly-defining gel that you definitely don’t use. And the—”

“No, you’re—”

“Are you honestly going to tell me you live here alone? What stupid fucking excuse are you going to give me, huh? This is a one-bedroom apartment, dude. Whoever’s shit this is, he's definitely not your roommate.”

Evie stares at her, stunned, mouth opening and closing.

“God, you know what. Save it. I don’t want to fucking know,” she says before storming out of the bedroom. 

Evie hugs her knees in stunned silence, watching from her bed as Nat grabs her coat and shoes. She pleads with her brain for something to say and comes up empty. 

Nat throws her one last dirty look, her face twisting in a scowl at her continued silence. “Seriously, fuck you, Gigi.” 

The sound of the front door slamming makes Evie jump. She just sits there, staring into empty space for so long that she feels her butt go numb.

She flops back onto her bed, pressing the heels of her hands to her eyes.

“What the fuck just happened?” she says to her empty room.

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[notoriousbeb]

TTPD Notes - The Manuscript (Pt. 3)

TTPD Notes Glossary

"Florida!!!"  

Recorded June 29, 2023; however, I'd wager to guess the first pre-Florence draft of this was first penned earlier, as it probably took a bit of logistics to meet up with Florence in the studio  

While probably a bit about all three recent exes ("So, I did my best to lay to rest all of the bodies that have ever been on my body") I'd say it's mostly about one. "And the hurricane with my name [Taylor Russell, is that you entering the chat?], when it came, I got drunk, and I dared it to wash me away. Barricaded in the bathroom with a bottle of wine. Well, me and my ghosts we had a hell of a time."  

If you peruse my timeline, I think you’ll find that the “shitstorm back in Texas” and her need for the release/high of the Tampa shows suddenly snaps into clear focus.  

Why does she want to be told that she’s despicable and unforgivable? The Matty thing is my guess.  

"Guilty as Sin"  

I think this was written pre-Eras Tour, but maybe not recorded until during?  

Interesting note, a few years ago, Harry shared “The Downtown Lights” by The Blue Nile with music journalist Zane Lowe as part of a playlist he put together  

A hedge maze is an outdoor garden maze or labyrinth. In "Labyrinth," she says, "I thought the plane was going down, how'd you turn it right around...I'm falling in love again." To me, this is saying, "I thought we were through, but I am falling in love with you again." And it's a clear reference to the Harry and Taylor of yore — paper airplanes. I am so confused about other people's confusion as to the muse of this song.  

She says she keeps “these longings locked in lowercase inside a vault.” Hmm. Maybe keep an eye out for the “reputation” vault tracks? I know I am.  

“I Can Fix Him (No Really I Can)”

See this post

"loml"  

I’m guessing recorded Spring 2023  

Lion references make me think of this image from April 13, 2023 at Electric Lady. Were they shooting a music video for TTPD? If so, gimme now. She’s wearing a Gucci lion ring. From Harry? (If you are unaware, he also has two Gucci lion rings). 

It was legendary, you say? Like, they were “born to be suburban legends” and when he holds you it holds you together and it’s “the only thing that’s holy” (“Guilty as Sin?”)  

I don’t think “you shit-talked me under the table” means he talked shit about her. Harry would never do that. I think it refers to the alternate definition of the term. Like he was talking out of his ass or bullshitting.  

“Love of my Life” is Harry’s only track 13.  

This song makes me cry every time I hear it. Every time. It’s so beautiful, though, so I can’t stop won’t stop. “Dancing phantoms on the terrace/are they second hand embarrassed?” Fuck me all the way up. 

Can you imagine being Joe Alwyn and knowing you put in six years and also knowing this song is not about you? I would simply turn to dust and blow away.  

“I Can Do It with a Broken Heart” 

God, this is such a great goddamn, perfect pop song. It has to be a single, right? 

In my heart and gut, I believe this is about Harry. I really think she’d already processed the Joe breakup before Era’s even started. She didn't love Matty—she said so herself and I believe her. She started the tour strong. But then late April hits and boom she was crying on stage and falling apart. Why? See my crazy Haylor Magnum opus and timeline for my thoughts.

"The Black Dog"  

I didn’t want it to be, but unfortunately, I’m convinced this is about Harry: Regarding the line, “I just don’t understand how you don’t miss me in the shower and remember how my rain-soaked body was shaking,” if you’ll refer to my scary stalker timetable, you’ll see it rained at the first night of the Arlington, Texas, show where I think Harry was.

In the original lyrics, it was “these weeks of breathing clean air” so the timeline means nothing.

Joe didn’t leave with his tail between his legs. She left him (see: “So Long, London” and “Fresh Out the Slammer”). Some might even say she bolted. And Matty was in the states when she wrote the song. But you know who was spotted and pictured in London just days before his Horsens show on May 13? Harry Styles.

Updated June 15, 2025: Joe confirmed to The Sunday Times’ Style magazine that he’s never been to Vauxhall where the Blackdog is located. In the intervening months, Matty Healy has since stated he and Taylor were not serious in any way.

These lyrics are clearly, to me, about someone she was with long term and left (Joe); this muse is someone she had a prior history with who left her—and suddenly. “Was it hazing? For a cruel fraternity I pledged? And I still mean it. Old habits die screaming.” And “Were you making fun of me with some esoteric joke?” “Hazing” and “cruel fraternity” are not apt metaphors for a six-year relationship. But they sure are for a two-week rebound with an on-and-off four-year situationship, though.

She was so, so big mad about Harry being at this bar. Why? Was he not answering her texts or calls/actually or appearing to “avoid her like the plague” as per “I Can Do It with a Broken Heart?” Why is there a girl there with him who is too young to know the Starting Line? Why does Taylor know this girl is there? Is she imaginary? She had better be imaginary! Goddamnit, Harry. I don’t want to be mad at you.

[emobunniboy]

untitled (poem)

i live through these moments and memories combined, swimming through my psyche and making up my mind

my friends and my stories intertwined as always together forever

for in every part of me there is you

the time we fell asleep sun bathing by your pool when i showed you how to twerk at 3am in my bedroom when we went for a walk in florida together and talked about our lives the times we would get dairy queen after dance on monday nights and the time i saw your spotify had a playlist about me

the times when we listened to vinyl and sang along in my attic when i made out with you against the fence in my backyard when our cookie skillet didn’t cook when we walked around the entirety of that park (twice) and had to be picked up the paper hearts i would hang in my bedroom like a chandelier

the time we sat in the hot tub and talked about rice purity and our friends playing dolls together as kids playing with our stuffed animals when we would spend hours playing minecraft, deep in thought

sitting in your basement drawing or watching the tv taking naps together staying up late playing jackbox talking about sex doing my makeup for halloween or dance

the way you laugh when i “disappoint” you the way you smirk when we “flirt” with each other the way your voice lights up a room the way your comfort is always present the way your face looks when you laugh

the way that i feel about you, that i can never quite decipher,

i like reminiscing, on you.

the new things, too the way we bond over our emotional music how we’ve talked about arizona and work the way we talk about college together the way we scream when we play minecraft you’re so cute …

how you constantly upset your stomach how you never sleep and when you do it’s not for long the constant caps and random texting how you call me when i can’t fall asleep and how you were my person for a long, long time. thank you.

the speech patterns i’ve taken from you, the vocal stims i stole “your mom” jokes constantly, saying i love you (say it back) because it could be the last time

bonding over our dads i’m sorry for when you come over

when you picked my up because i couldn’t bare to be in my house that night

we run upstairs to avoid interaction

but the times we go for midnight walks, stargazing at 2am when we ran, froze, and crawled in my driveway to avoid the basement light on

when we laid in the grass and you asked me, “what would you do?” and i answered.

braving the cold to watch the stars orion is my favorite, but i also remember cassiopeia because it’s your favorite

and somehow you all love cats, so, so do i, except i’m allergic.

i don’t know much about the stars but you do i don’t know much about anime but you do i don’t know much about pokemon but you do i don’t know much about science but you do i don’t know much about literature but you do i don’t know much about life but you do

you are so smart, and i learn from you. every single day.

every piece and part is what makes me an art

a puzzle piece brought together by the glue that is friendship companionship what makes me, me, is you.

[mcrcosantos]

TASK ONE - Character Intro

Full Name: Marco Gabriel Santos

Nicknames: Santos

Age & Birthday: 38 years; July 25th, 1986

Occupation: Sous Chef at Alvaro's at Paradise Point Resort

Preferred Pronouns & Gender: he/him; cis-male

Sexuality: Heterosexual

Hometown & length of time in Briar Ridge: Houston, TX, & twenty-seven years

Neighborhood: Downtown

Family: Carlos and Maria Santos (grandparents), Juan Santos (younger brother), Gabriela Santos (niece)

Faceclaim: Miguel Gomez

PINTEREST | CONNECTIONS | PLAYLIST

Trigger Warnings: parental death, child abandonment, criminal activity, prison

Marco Santos has always carried the weight of the world on his shoulders. A renowned chef on a one way track to success, his career came to a screeching halt when Marco took the blame for a crime he didn't commit to protect his brother and ensure that Juan could be present in his newborn daughter's life. Marco served jail time for five years, but was released on good behavior. He's been back home for six months now and facing the possibility that his sacrifice might have been for nothing, but could cost him everything.

Marco’s mother died when he was pretty young. From that moment, his little brother, who was just two, pretty much became Marco’s responsibility. Their dad really struggled with providing for his sons on a single income, but when Marco was about 10 years old, he got a job that would finally allow him to make sure they were all comfortable, but would require him to travel a lot. So he sent Marco & Juan to go live with their grandparents in Briar Ridge. Shortly after moving to Briar Ridge, Marco met and befriended the girl next door. They became best friends and remained so for the rest of their childhood.

Marco worked really hard to be the best that he could be at… everything. He studied hard, practiced any and every sport he played as much as he could, even worked as hard as he could at being the best big brother. He wanted to make sure that by the time he graduated from high school, he would have several options to ensure he started making enough money to help his family out. But his brother didn’t have the same goals as Marco and after falling in with the wrong crowd when they were kids, continued on a downward spiral that kept getting him into bad shit

After graduating from high school, Marco managed to get a scholarship to a world famous culinary school in Orlando, Florida. His time in Orlando made him realize that cooking, and simply being in a restaurant environment, were his passion. The eldest Santos thrived while he was there. When he left, he asked the girl next door to keep an eye on Juan, and with the physical distance from constantly looking over his shoulder for his brother, he was finally able to focus and really thrived. When Marco graduated, he got a job working at a restaurant in Orlando. He planned on staying in the city, at least for a couple years and working his way up the ‘ladder’ so to speak. But after receiving a frantic call from his grandmother about how out of control Juan had gotten, Marco packed up his bags and moved back home, feeling like his brother had been and always would be his responsibility

Over the years, Marco has worked at different restaurants in Briar Ridge, until about 8 years ago, he finally got his big break and landed a job at Alvaro’s at Paradise Point Resort & Spa. Despite how bad things were with Juan, Marco’s professional life, at least, seemed to be doing pretty well. Then, things got turned upside down six years ago when Juan got one of his flings pregnant. From the moment his niece was born, Marco fell head over heels. Gabriela, named after Marco in a manipulative attempt to show how much Juan appreciated his older brother, became the single most important thing to him and for that first year she was alive, Marco took care of her just as much as Juan did.

Five years ago, things came crashing down when Marco caught his brother breaking into someone’s house in a wealthier part of town. With Juan already having several priors on his record, Marco went in after him to try to get him to leave, afraid of the repercussions his brother would face if he were caught. A silent alarm was triggered & before they knew it, the cops arrived. Not wanting his brother to miss out on all the time with his daughter, who was just a year old, Marco took the blame so his brother could escape & was arrested in his place. Because it was his first offense, Marco only received 7 years with a chance of getting out on good behavior. He got out after 5 and is now on the path to getting his life back, including trying to adopt his niece who he’s learned his brother basically abandoned after he went to jail.

[storiesofsvu]

Hidden Desires Ch 13

Warnings: Language. Fighting. Angst. Intro Casey. Casey fucks up

Monday rolled around and you were thankful you didn’t have to deal with any court appearances or detectives so far. You’d had one phone call for a search warrant for the SVU case but you were being a bit passive aggressive and waiting on taking it down to the squad. Liv and Elliot were still acting fucking distant, so you may as well pull back too. Despite your relationship with Alex staying a secret from the rest of the squad, you were sure Olivia told Stabler, maybe that was it?

There was a soft knock at your door and you called out to come in pausing in your work as you realized you didn’t know the redhead who was now standing in your office, you could’ve sworn you’d seen her somewhere before but couldn’t quite put your finger on it.

“Can I help you?”

“Casey Novak. I’m SVU’s new prosecutor.” She extended her hand briefly, dropping it when she realized you weren’t about to greet her.

“VanRiel.” You replied, “where’re you from?” Her brow scrunched,

“Uh…Upper West Side…?”

“No,” you half scoffed, “what borough?”

“Oh. Manhattan.”

“Please tell me you’re at least from homicide?” You groaned, dropping your head into your hands, though you already knew the answer. You knew all the A.D.A’s in Manhattan homicide already considering you did half their jobs for them.

“White collar.”

“For fucks sake Branch…” you muttered to yourself before turning your gaze back up to hers, “listen, I don’t have time to baby you so I hope you did your homework. We deal with violent crimes, live victims, shit that’s definitely going to keep you up at night.” Your hand picked up the case file Stabler had dropped off the other day, along with the warrant they needed, “address is in the warrant, it covers pharmaceuticals. Benson and Stabler are already en route.” You turned back to working on your closing argument as Casey flipped through the file, glancing back at you.

“You’re not even gonna walk me through it?”

“I’m currently working on the case load of three prosecutors. You graduated law school right?” She nodded. You gave her a tight smile, “sink or swim. Welcome to SVU.”

You saw the way she rolled her eyes, but were thankful that she at least left your office, you didn’t want anyone getting in shit because the warrant wasn’t there in time. Or the even more likely offence that the detectives pulled some crap not covered by the warrant. Shortly after she left you sighed, your ears nearly ringing in the silence as you glanced around your office. You hated it in here now, it had been the social point for years and was now suddenly eerily quiet, no longer filled with the banter and teasing between the other two lawyers and you. You tapped through your phone until a quiet playlist echoed through the room, filling some of the empty space, hoping that would help.

*

Being from White Collar, Casey didn’t know much about the office going ons within other departments, she’d honestly done her best to stay out of it as much as she could. She was more dedicated to the job and getting a good conviction rate than knowing the gossip that leaked through Hogan Place. She knew SVU previously had multiple prosecutors but one had passed away and the other…she wasn’t even really sure (truthfully, Donnelly, Benson and you had managed to cover up Sonya’s rehab stint in an attempt to save her reputation at least somewhat. You claimed she had a family emergency and had to head to Florida for a month or so). It only worked because everyone believed the word of mouth and no one bothered looking at paperwork to confirm.

Casey was about to find out that the detectives were just as brash as you had been, and clearly didn’t like their crime scenes touched by anyone other than themselves, or their cases interfered with before they called the DA. They both shot down practically everything she said, and every idea she had. She got it, she was new to the department, that didn’t mean she didn’t know what she was talking about it. Hands on experience was the best way to learn, to make sure that she didn’t miss anything in a future case that maybe they did, everyone slipped up once in a while.

Sure, she hadn’t expected a welcoming wagon, but this seemed much more harsh than she’d hoped for. By the end of the day there was barely an improvement on the investigation and she was more frustrated and annoyed than anything else. She managed to catch you still in your office as you were packing up, your coat already on and halfway through the room when she came rounding through the door.

“I told you I don’t have time to baby you…” shouldering your bag you began to move past her. Today was already the one month anniversary of Alex’s shooting, the only thing you wanted to do right now was pay a visit to her grave before the rain started and drown yourself (responsibly) in a bottle of wine. You were genuinely surprised when Casey’s hand closed around your wrist, turning you back to her and effectively keeping you in the office.

“What the fuck is your problem?”

“Excuse me?!” You wrenched out of her grip, this was already a stark difference from this morning.

“You sent me down to that crime scene on purpose just to piss off the detectives so I’d get an earful, didn’t you?”

“I sent you down there because they needed the warrant! And they have a tendency to play a little fast and loose with the law. Especially those two.” Your temper flared when you turned back to the door and felt her hand on you again, tugging you back into the office.

“Okay, listen, I get it. I’m the new kid on the block, I haven’t worked your type of cases before, but there is no reason that everyone needs to have such a stick up their ass because I’m trying to do the job I was hired to do! I’m supposed to be here to take some of the weight off of you, you can’t just complain that you’re too busy doing three people’s jobs to try and help me learn! I need to be taking my own cases!”

“Oh my God..” you muttered, “I really don’t have time for a baby prosecutor temper tantrum right now, okay? You have an issue, you need to be walked through a case or how to do your job? Bring it up with Donnelly!”

You managed to swipe out of her grasp before she laid a hand on you this time, but her temper had been climbing every second. Casey was a perfectly good prosecutor and she knew she was damn good at her job and wasn’t about to let the stuck up, closed off clique of special victims drive her away from furthering her career. Her brain was fogged with anger and the words were out of her mouth before she even had a chance to think about what she was saying.

“You can’t all fucking hate me just because I’m not some dead girl!”

She knew she was in for it the second you reeled around, the fire in your eyes covering the slight shimmer of rage tears as you stepped towards her. For a second she thought you were about to slap her, and honestly, the thought crossed your mind. You’d known this girl for less than ten hours, interacted with her for less than ten minutes and she had the audacity to pull this kind of crap on her first day of work? Not on your watch.

“What did you just fucking say?”

Casey had expected a yell, not the low near growl that rumbled out your words.

“I’m sorry.” She stumbled slightly over her words suddenly, “that was out of line. I know you guys were friends or whatever but you can’t treat me like crap because I filled an open position.”

“She isn’t just some dead girl!” Now your voice was raising, and you were slowly backing Casey into the office without even realizing it, “it’s not like she was in a fucking car accident! She was fucking gunned down on the street because she was trying to prosecute a case that I pressured her to take! She only fucking agreed to it because she was my girlfriend! I’m not sitting here whining about having a heavy workload because I can, I’m doing this much shit because I’m the reason Alex bled out on a dirty sidewalk while I was waiting at home for her! I’m covering for Sonya because she was in such fucking bad shape after Alex was murdered she drank herself into a fucking stupor and I’m the one who had her suspended and sent to rehab so I wouldn’t feel responsible for another one of my best friends deaths!” You only paused to take a shuddering breath, the tears in your eyes suddenly threatening to fall, “you never get to speak about Alexandra Cabot ever again. Do I make myself clear?”

“I-“

“Oh fuck you Novak.” You practically spat, managing to make it out of your office before the tears started to slide down your cheeks, doing your best to dodge down empty hallways on your way to the exit.

Casey let out a shaky sigh, leaning back against your desk, waiting for the sound of your heels on the floor to disappear as you left the building.

To say she had royally fucked up her first day was a more than true understatement.

[malicious-compliance-esq]

Thanks @jopkey for tagging me in this fun "getting to know you" game!

Name: Malicious Compliance

Pronouns: They/Them/Theirs

Where do you call home?: Florida, United States

Favorite Animal: Constrictor snakes! My mother also tells me I like "all the weird animals" because of my fondness for spiders, beetles, etc.

Cereal of Choice: I always keep granola around as an easy snack! Especially like when it has almonds, raisins, and dates in the mix.

Visual, auditory, or kinesthetic learner?: I favor a combination of first reading and viewing foundational resources, and then trying a skill myself from that self-teaching above all other methods. If I had to pick one pillar that tends to matter most for me, it would be language across both the written and spoken domains. But things have never been so black and white for me; and being raised by neuroscientists makes me automatically skeptical of rigid thinking about how humans learn.

First Pet: Alison, a goldfish with a nasty habit of eating their tankmates' fins.

Favorite Scent: For general smells, nothing better than a freshly blown-out candle spreading its signature aroma through the surrounding air! For cologne, I've worn Yves Saint Laurent Opium for Men since I was in high school.

Do you believe in astrology?: Depends on what you mean. Do I believe birth timing substantially determines the progression of a person's life or the core traits of their personality? No. Do I think astrology can be a helpful framework for thinking creatively about who we are and why we feel as we do? Yes.

How many playlists do you have on your music service of choice?: On Spotify, which I use for fandom stuff, I maintain playlists for each of my fic continuities. I also have some playlists saved that @i-dwell-in-darkness made for the BJR fandom. On Apple Music I have no playlists whatsoever! I just choose what specific song or album I'd like to listen to if I'm in "specific content" mode; sometimes I also enjoy finding new-to-me artists by exploring Apple's playlists for different genres and eras.

Sharpies or highlighters?: This seems like an "apples or oranges" sort of juxtaposition. I use them for very different purposes, but I do use Sharpies far more frequently and for more diverse functions than highlighters.

Song that makes you cry?: "Dead of Winter" by the Eels can reliably make my eyes tear up. Notable achievement, given I'm not prone to crying. Just the whole Electro-Shock Blues album gets me on a very deep personal level, but this one especially hits hard.

Song that makes you happy?: Playing any of Alice Cooper's music is guaranteed to bring me instant joy. Especially his 70s stuff and anything from his later releases that goes heavy on incorporating those style elements! If I have one "theme song" in life, it's his "Be My Lover" track off 1971's Killer.

And finally, do you write/draw/create?: Yes, absolutely. Both fanworks and many other things, from academic publications to magazine articles to poetry and original prose. Writing is a huge part of both my leisure and my vocation. It feels like breathing to me and I do some form of writing every single day. Usually multiple forms! The one exception is those rare occasions when I'm so profoundly ill physically that I have to stay in bed and spend the day mostly sleeping. I am very stubborn, so that is not a lot of days. If I can sit up, I can write on my laptop or phone in bed. I also used to draw, mostly portraits in charcoal. Sadly my disease did take that from me because of how it has destroyed the blood vessels in my hands. Gripping small objects for any prolonged period of time is horribly painful and will cause lasting issues with my hand function. Even filling out a card by hand creates consequences for the remainder of that day. It's tough, but I don't dwell on this. Too much other joy in the world. If I lost the ability to write by any means, though? That would absolutely be the point where I stopped wanting to live at all.

I'm really curious to see responses from @tucsonhorse and @blindbeholder if y'all feel like joining in!

[sebsxphia]

Sebbie, I just gotta say, "Wedding Day" had me kicking my feet, twirling my hair and giggling like crazy!!!!!!!!!

But oh man, imagine the honeymoon with Bob though!!

You two decide to go to Key West, Florida for the honeymoon. You're about two steps away from the beach and your little cottage is turquoise with peach pink shutters and a little white porch. You and Bob go looking for seashells during the day and a long walk at sunset before heading back to the house.

In the morning he'll go out early and pick oranges from the trees in the garden and make a fresh pitcher of OJ for the morning. At night Bob will get some fresh fish from one of the markets, cover it in blackening spices and stick it on the grill for dinner. You and him will make some kind of tropical drink to have with dinner and when the dishes are all done and put away, you two often find yourselves dancing to Bob's Jimmy Buffett playlist until you two are too tired to stay awake.

At night, you both lie together in bed with the screened-in windows open, listening to the peepers, the breeze rustling the palms, the roar of the ocean and occasionally a thunderstorm. When you both wake up to the sunshine and the smell of a fresh rain from the night before, you and Bob are often in the mood for the slow, lazy sex that comes with it just being the two of you. It's almost every morning that the two of you are completely lost in each other, Bob's slow and gentle thrusting making you squirm a little on his cock.

There were three smiles that morning, but you didn't know it......you, Bob and who would eventually become your first little one.

Sebbie, the yearning hours are particularly strong this week. I'm praying for spring!!! (lol).

aaaaaaah my love! i’m so pleased to hear you enjoyed it! thank you so much for your sweet words 💗

but oh MAN am i imagining the honeymoon with bob because i’ve been to key west and i want to stay there FOREVER. it was so dreamy and picturing that with bob and everything you’ve described, especially the morning sex and laying in bed at night with the screened-in-windows open!!!! you’ve got me on the floor.

you know bob would be breeding you like a feral dog <3

the yearning hours are crazy this week, i feel you my love! but thank you so much for this wonderful thought, i’m going to treasure it forever! 💌

[starbuck]

top 5 mountain goats songs

Surely not Top Five Of All Time, but I don’t feel like I’m in a position to answer that yet, so here’s my top 5 in this moment, out of what I’ve listened to so far, in no particular order:

1. Against Agamemnon

It would just be wrong to leave this one off when I KNOW it’s gonna be my most-listened song of 2022 😂😂 … I honestly do love it a lot, though and I’m sad that it isn’t more popular. But there was definitely a VERY specific journey that led me to it, so I don’t expect anyone else to react the same way, but The Overexposure Of It All just gets to me, so I’m gonna keep putting it on my playlists and I CANNOT be stopped!

2. Snow Crush Killing Song

What do I even have to say about this one? Just LISTEN to it… LISTEN!!!!!! How did he make the fucking GUITAR sound sad???????? This song just empties me out every time… I am a puddle on the floor.

3. Maize Stalk Drinking Blood

A song I was delighted to rediscover my love for when I started listening to Full Force Galesburg all the way though… “This is an empty country / and I am the king / and I should not be allowed to touch anything” is obviously Lyrics Of All Time, but I’m also entranced by the intensity of “[I] let the hard blue sky fall right through me”… There’s a real violence to that that really gets me…

I’m also pleased that I understood this song to be about death from the first time I heard it, though perhaps the title was a giveaway! 😂😂

4. Foreign Object

I HAVE listened to Beat The Champ all the way through but, for whatever reason, only the first half of it Stuck for me… I guess I’ll have to go back for the second half later!

ANYWAYS, I’ve really been enjoying this song lately… People like to joke about the chorus, but the verses are so well-constructed that I feel like I would have to print the lyrics and annotate them to explain why they’re so appealing to me. The alliteration and just like… sound repetition going on is just 👌🏻👌🏻 *chef’s kiss*… The chorus is fun and very silly, yeah, but the verses elevate it far past a simple gag song imo.

5. Alpha Sun Hat

It’s probably some sort of betrayal that I’m choosing this as my Court Mandated Zopilote Machine Representation on this list over Quetzalcoatl Eats Plums, but oh well… My header has been plums since July, it’s had its due already!!

But, yeah, what’s especially appealing to me about this song (among many things) is the potential for a double reading in “If you’re planning your escape / you know I’m all for ya / As I watch the sun come up again / over Tallahassee, Florida” because you could either read the sentiment of “you know I’m all for ya” as legitimate or as a passive-aggressive “oh yeah? I’d like to see you try (you won’t).” The second feels more accurate to me, but I like to think that it’s a mix of both…

Logically, the Alpha Couple know they’d be better off apart, but they’ve been down together for so long that the concept of either or them actually escaping the relationship for a better life seems laughable. And the sunrise punctuates the cyclical nature of such “escape attempts”… They have this conversation every night, but every morning the sun rises again and nothing has changed.

[talandros]

CHARACTER INFORMATION:

FULL NAME: Tallahassee Andros

NICKNAMES: Tal

FACE CLAIM: Peter Gadiot

PRONOUNS AND GENDER: Cis man, he/him

BIRTHDAY: September 27,1987

BIRTH PLACE: Tallahassee, Florida

HOW LONG HAVE THEY BEEN IN TOWN?: Eight years

SEXUALITY: Fluid

HOUSING: Coral Coast

OCCUPATION: Freelance songwriter

TL;DR:

TRIGGER WARNING(S): DRUG USE, DRUG ABUSE, BLOOD MENTION, ALCOHOL ABUSE

has-been washed up musician in a band that comes back on throwback playlists and people go ‘oh hey what happened to them’ (the goal and the vibe is like… del amitri meets nine days meets a much less successful third eye blind)

(really though absolutely no one is gonna recognize this dude for that anywhere ever lmao) but don’t worry he will tell you all about it. sometimes he has the grace to hold off until someone asks why he was like 150k followers on twitter [after saying it’s because he’s really funny and insightful]

florida native who left home when his band got signed after years and years of playing dive bars, bowling alleys and birthday parties

minorly and mostly peripherally successful but that was all tallahassee needed to absolutely rip his life to pieces

developed a drug problem on tour, got carted off to rehab (twice). the second time was the last straw and he was kicked out of the band. (that he named and started, but whatever, he swears he’s let that go)

moved to fairford for a fresh start roughly eight years ago and my dude has done NOTHING with that

living a good and california sober life, which suits him just fine

he is genuinely annoying but maybe in a way that’s endearing in select circles

FUN DUMB STATS:

Birthday: September 27,1987

Zodiac Sign: Libra ☉ | Sagittarius ☽ | Gemini➶  

MBTI: ESFP

Enneagram: Type 7w6

Temperament: Sanguine

Moral Alignment: Chaotic neutral

Element: Air

WANTED CONNECTIONS:

absolutely anything

ESTABLISHED CONNECTIONS:

tbd

FULL BIOGRAPHY:

OKAY THIS IS THE FULL BIO BUT FOR THE LOVE OF GOD YOU DON’T HAVE TO READ IT it’s here for posterity

All Tallahassee Andros’ life had been a vacillation of falling in love. First, it was music. The instant his uncle had put a guitar in his hands, that old Fender with nicks and dings that could barely hold its tune, a part of him never put it down. It was all he thought about during school days and baseball practices — getting home and playing that guitar. For a long time, the sound was unbearable, something only made worse by his tenacity. But he started to get better. Started to understand how to wrap lyrics around a melody — stupid little songs about missing the bus and hating homework and loving the girl who sat in front of him in math. He had heard his uncle say music brought him peace, but that wasn’t the truth for Tallahassee. Tallahassee felt this frenetic need for it, an all-encompassing, jonesing sort of itch. Later he would learn it was in his bones to need things, and music would be his bridge into the land where no one ever said no.

He started his first band when he was 14. A garage band with neighborhood kids who didn’t have much skill between them, but they were still willing to spend every day writing and rehearsing and trying to make something of themselves. Even the members remained in a sort of flux, one kid tagging out and dragging another in. By the end of it, they had only played at the bowling alley and the pizza shop across the street, and the only member who had stayed was Tallahassee  Andros. He was, after all, the front man. A position he both decided on, and clung to. He wrote the songs, after all, and his parents cared the least about a ragtag group of kids playing discordant noises late into the night. Tallahassee’s parents were two people who, at best, tolerated each other – but wanted to do right by their kids. Doing right meant a lot of letting them do what they wanted, as long as they were out of their hair. That meant, for the Andros family, a lot of late nights and loud music.

By the time he graduated high school, their still unnamed band consisted of   Tallahassee on vocals and guitar, his lifelong best friend Will on drums, a friend of a friend from down the street called Kurt on drums, and his brother Dover on rhythm guitar. They weren’t great, but they had been featured in the paper, and their gigs paid. It was barely enough to gas up the van to get there and back, but money was money, and that made them feel real. A real band needed a real name, and after spending months kicking around the first thing that came to mind, the landed on something. They were all sitting around the garage smoking — shitty, dirtbag weed that Dover had pocketed from their uncle — when they landed on something. Far more pretentious than an early 2000′s bowling alley band had a right to be, but they didn’t know it at the time. Kurt had been flipping through a Nat Geo magazine, one his dad had left from his days of hoping to be a wildlife photographer, when he started reading about this cluster of sharks off the coast of San Diego. Requiem sharks, the author called them. The Wild Requiem.

As much as the boys agreed on anything, they agreed on that name. Later, people would ask how they’d decided on it — and every time, every member of the band came up with a different lie. Tal liked the sound of it — liked that experts seemed to be torn on whether the name came from the French word for that old final rest, or the word for a grimace that showed teeth. It didn’t match their sound, not really —  but he liked that too. They started to work on an EP – their best songs to shop around to any label they had the gas money to get to. They burned it onto CDs and slid them unceremoniously under the door of every record shop and radio station in a 50 mile radius. They all had to get other jobs, real jobs, while they waited for something that felt like a break. They’d gotten a few bites, and continued to play in bars and small venues, but they weren’t successful — they weren’t paying bills.

Not until her. Their final addition, the one that would elevate them from a shitty little band to something with potential, was Laurel. She saw the Wild Requiem playing at a basement party, and she immediately started giving them advice as soon as they were off stage. She was pretty, so Tallahassee  pretended to listen. She was also smart, so Dover actually listened. It was a mercy Tal Andros had stars in his eyes, or he would’ve kicked up a fuss at receiving unsolicited advice from someone who had only heard 23 minutes of their material, and what did she know, anyway? A lot, as it turned out. Laurel’s dad was the head of Guilty Pleasure Records, and even if she didn’t have a foot in the door, she was a talent on her own.

Finally getting bored of her advice, Tallahassee asked her to prove herself. At their next practice, the room felt impossibly cramped with the new body, and he’d never realized how messy the garage was until there was a pretty girl standing in it. Laurel cast a disdainful look around the place, nudging an empty beer can out of her way with her boot as she stepped inside. He knew right then, she wasn’t going to try and blend in with them. She was going to try to change them —  fix them. He wanted to stand in front of her and say this had all been a mistake, they didn’t need help, and they didn’t need her. He would’ve been wrong. She sang for them, a song of her own that was far more eloquent than anything they’d managed to write. She guided them through playing it behind her. She and Tallahassee fell into a harmony, and the room seemed to come alive with it. With her, their sound changed entirely. They were firing on all cylinders. They needed Laurel in the band, and Laurel wanted to prove herself in her own right. They put together a new demo, and despite her connection, they were not picked up by Guilty Pleasure. Instead, they were scooped by one of their competitors — a nothing little studio that spawned out of GP Records, and picked up the studio head’s daughter out of spite. That was alright by the Wild Requiem, and more than alright by Laurel.

They spent almost seven months on that first album, every second that wasn’t spent writing was spent recording. For all their differences — and Tallahassee was learning there were a lot —  he and Laurel knew how to make a certain kind of magic together when it came to music. She knew how to get on his goddamn nerves, but she also knew how to fine tune his ideas. The album, for all it’s faults, was a success in a way none of them prepared for. They had received a fair amount of local buzz, but being excited about the neighborhood band that kept you up with their late night practices was nothing in comparison to what they would get. Required Listening was a sort of alternative rock, pop rock album that was easy. Windows down, singing with your friends on a July afternoon music. It wasn’t what any of them wanted to be in the end — but they knew it was a sound that would give them a beginning.

And it did. They were booked as an opening act for a three-band tour, and their set time was roughly all of fifteen minutes, but that was fifteen minutes they got to perform in big cities all around the country. They were out of Florida, and onto a lifestyle that was entirely different than bowling alleys and dive bars. When he read about how rock stars lived, how freely drugs were passed around backstage, Tallahassee believed it, but in a distant way that he didn’t think he would have to learn to deal with. He gave into it, at first not wanting to look like an amateur, like some Florida dirtbag who was out of his depth. First it was coke, and that could’ve been enough for him. It should’ve been. How quickly it sunk its teeth in, and how much more alive he felt was something he couldn’t ignore. Before he knew it, he was staying awake for days at a time, one city blurring into the next, the second leg of the tour becoming nothing but a feeling. In that time, he and Laurel had started sleeping together. She was only a half step behind him on the blow, both of them letting long nights of hooking up turn into writing songs that were nonsense in the daylight.

Their album had started to chart during that tour, and even if most of the country didn’t know they knew the Wild Requiem, they would find themselves humming their songs. No one was coming to shows for them, not really, but they were still getting attention. Tallahassee’s recreational drug use had started to turn into a habit, and they all knew he was going to have a problem by the end of the tour. He had started taking uppers in the mornings, and needed downers to get anything close to sleep. He had started to balance a combination of them during the day to keep himself running at a level, riding that high. But if anyone cared, that was eclipsed by how worried they were about Laurel. At the start of the tour, she had been right behind him. But she had surpassed him somewhere between Tempe and Seattle, and she was already getting into the shit that came from street dealers in dark alleys. Her family was intervening, and they were setting her up for a rehab stint at the end of the tour. The end of the tour was important, because despite getting in their own way, despite being on a bender reserved for business veterans, they had written some solid music. The band agreed, the label agreed. The tour would end, Laurel would get clean, and they’d meet up in four months to start on the next album.  

Tallahassee wasn’t worried about her. Not even when she would wake up with dried blood under her nose, and she had long since stopped feeling like the level-headed decisive woman he’d encountered just a few short years ago. They’d all changed on that tour, though. Shy, quiet Will had a different groupie on the bus every night. Where Tallahassee had given in to the harder substances, Dover had started to get just short of falling down drunk before every show. Tallahassee himself had, by almost all accounts, become an absolute dick. Before his tenacity had been to the band’s benefit, but somewhere in the time he started snorting Dexedrine, it was to their detriment.

They were still a fairly small band. They didn’t have room for his ego.

The tour ended, and The Wild Requiem was still riding high. Laurel was carted off to rehab, and the rest of them went their separate ways, for the time being. The band had already agreed on a house outside of Los Angeles for when recording time rolled back around. It was this ramshackle place in Pomona, five bedrooms and one bath. It was a dream home for none of them, but they wanted to grind their sophomore album out in the right place, in record time. Tallahassee headed there instead of back to Florida, living out those three months ‘networking’ for the band. It was during that time that he did heroin for the first time. Bad shit, he knew, and the one thing he’d promised himself he wouldn’t fall into. It had been a bad look on Laurel, even he’d seen that.

That, it turned out, to be his second great love. And oh, how it eclipsed the first. Music was secondary to that feeling, to the extent that he wondered how he had ever loved it at all. By the time Laurel got clean, he was anything but. Recording their second album came with none of the ease of the first. She couldn’t be around him, and he was having difficulty tolerating her sanctimonious attitude. All of the fun of the first album turned into grit, but it didn’t suit their sound. It was sand in your clothes after a day at the beach grit, and it was hard to salvage, even with the push of the label. Their second album felt like a draft, and their label had even less faith in it than the band did. There was maybe one single worth listening to on it, but that single pushed them through. It even charted, and got them their own headlining tour. No big venues, no sold out arenas, but it was enough. They just needed to work through the rockier parts. By the time they left, Tallahassee was all rocky parts. No one told him how short the high lasted – how everything after turned into that need. When he wasn’t using, his blood felt like battery acid. He woke up with his teeth clenched, every part of him crying out for it. It became survival.

He and Laurel had long since split, if they’d ever been together in any real capacity at all. But they couldn’t stand to be around each other. They started to travel on two separate tour buses. Even in his addled state, he knew this would be the end of the Wild Requiem. Their album was critically panned. Two albums in, and crowds already demanded their ‘old stuff.’ What Tallahassee didn’t know was how it would end. He overdosed in Phoenix, but not before taking a nasty header off the stage in Austin. He thought he would get a grace period to work through it himself – he hadn’t. His team put him in a rehab facility, tour be damned. Dover stepped up and took his part, and they hired a new guitarist.

At the end of his 90 days, the tour had ended – and so had his time with the band. He pretended to understand it. Pretended right up until the moment he got high and tore their Pomona house to pieces with his bare hands – doors off frames, furniture in the yard, holes in the walls. He was a one-man wrecking ball, and when he came to in the yard with bloody knuckles and surrounded by debris, he checked himself back into rehab. Another 90 day jaunt for Tallahassee Andros, and a new album for the Wild Requiem.

They could’ve at least changed the name, he thought. He wondered if he had grounds to sue. Probably. But his only visitor had been his brother, and when he saw the worry in Dover’s face, he knew they thought they were saving him. And saving the band. The new album was good. It wasn’t great, but nothing they’d done had ever been great. It returned to the easy sounds of their first album, and Dover thought they had the start of something. Tal did too. He decided then, to let it go. He wasn’t meant for that life. He’d lived it for three years, and it had all but turned him inside out. The other thing no one mentioned when you got sober, is how much goddamn time you suddenly have. He stayed in California for a while, moving up the coast to San Francisco. In San Francisco, he tried to be a lot of different people. So many hobbies under his belt, all because he needed to replace one addiction with the next. Woodworking, gardening – the worst of them all had been when he decided to be a runner. That one lasted until he tore his ACL, because Tallahassee still hadn’t learned to do anything moderately.

While he was healing, he dared to get back into songwriting. That tapped into the very center of him, releasing something he hadn’t known he was still holding. His guitar remained untouched, gathering dust in the attic where he didn’t have to look at it, but the idea of setting something to music was enough. He left California when he turned twenty-eight. After all, he’d been a has-been by the time he turned 23, by 25 he felt like a relic. He tried Seattle for a while, but Seattle felt like Los Angeles in a suit. The novelty of ‘aren’t you that guy?’ wore off quickly, and he was craving a sort of anonymity. It was only then that he remembered the town in Washington that felt like a unique little something. Maybe it was a need for something peripherally familiar without being familiar at all – the feeling of being a strange man in a strange land.

For weeks he tried to remember the name of the town, and for weeks he landed on nothing. He looked at old tour schedules, old pictures, anything. He finally relented and texted Laurel to ask. The band had broken up, and last he’d heard, she’d gotten married. Some British dude that Dover said was an asshole. Laurel, instead of answering, asked to meet for coffee.

They met up in Redding, California – the almost midpoint for them both. The first and last time they ever agreed to meet each other halfway. She wasn’t wearing a wedding ring, just as he’d known she wouldn’t be. Their meeting was filled with apologies and awkward reminiscing, something he hadn’t considered when he imagined how it would go. The terrible thing about them both being sober is they had no choice but to be present. She admitted only after they’d slept together that she was still married, she had just wanted to see if there was still a spark. Neither of them were sure if there had been. She told him the town had been called Fairford, and she only remembered because they’d impromptu played a gig at a dive bar while they were there, and because of Tallahassee, they’d wound up paying damages instead of actually getting paid.

She wished him luck there, as though his bags were already packed. Maybe they all but were. She was glad they’d had this last time, she said. He supposed she wanted it to feel like closure, but he didn’t think it had. It felt like opening up a book he’d once loved, but only remembered the high points. Still, he smiled and agreed.

He did pack his bags. He spent two months living out of motels and hotels while he tried to figure out if this was, indeed, the life he wanted. He liked the pace of things here. Liked the person he felt like when he went for his early morning run, followed by a coffee on the way back. He liked that the nights were slow and quiet. Most importantly, Tallahassee liked the person he felt like he could become here. He started to find his way back into music, even if it was no more than playing his guitar at sunset. The way the soft chatter in the down the hall would fall a little quieter if he managed something that sounded like he’d once been someone with talent. He would stay, he decided.

He moved out of the motel, opting to buy a house. The kind of roots that could, in darker moments, reach up and wrap around his neck if he weren’t careful. He was, after all, still in the business of replacing addictions, and he had gone a long way from anyone who was willing to stop him. He hadn’t relapsed since moving to the Washington, though he had adopted a California Sober lifestyle. And after 10 years, Tallahassee learned to stop changing the station when the Wild Requiem came on the radio – even if he gritted his teeth at being called a one-hit wonder.

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[sitpwgs]

Hi! I hope you had a nice relaxing time with your family. Did you do anything fun? I meant to reply yesterday but I felt tired for once lol. I haven't had time to watch Poor Things yet but I definitely will this weekend! I'm also going to watch eras..I was supposed to tonight to get even more hyped for the album but my sister got tired. Omg do you like Schmigadoon? Did you watch Schmicago too? I think it's just a fun silly show and I love seeing if I know all the references. I love Beyonce's album so much..i think it has a lot of different sounds and I enjoy every song. I haven't heard Maggie's album yet but enjoyed Lizzy's and also Conan Gray's from last week and espresso is such a fun song. I did get tickets to the tour and we are going to be in the pit this time so maybe it will be more fun. This week, I'm playing Taylor of course and decided to start from Red and listen to the rest, but skipping 1989 since we just heard it and I don't think this album will be anything like it. She also made her own playlists I'm trying to make my way through, just because I think it's fun to hear songs from different albums sometimes. I can't believe we are already gonna hear it tonight! I'm so excited!!!

So when I saw the track lengths, it definitely made me more interested in some songs I wasn't at first. Especially Daddy I Love Him..which is apparently one of her longest songs ever. I honestly don't know what to expect from that song, cuz I don't know if I buy the Little Mermaid theory yet. Who's afraid of little old me was as well, and Taylor also wrote it herself, so I'm more interested in that cuz her solo songs are always so good. It made me more curious about my boy breaks his favorite toys too, which is the other solo song but I also always love her track threes. I also wonder if it has to do with Who's afraid of Virgina Woolf or not. Overall I was happy to see a mix of Aaron and Jack cuz I like both styles. The song lengths make me wonder if the album will be more similar to Speak Now, Red or Folklore and Evermore, since all the songs are pretty long. I love long songs so it would make me happy. So I think the ones I am most excited for are the title song, so long London, Florida, the Alchemy and Clara Bow, so I guess it didn't really change. What about you? For the bonus tracks, it's the Manuscript and the Black Dog so we will see if these become favorites. My sister and I are also gonna try to do a prelisten and first listen ranking so we can look back on the results. I think it's likely that Fortnight will be the single with the music video coming out on Friday so I'm excited for that since I always like the opening songs and I'm curious why the music video wouldn't come out the same time as the album.

I've been trying to keep up with everything. I think the aesthetic of the album has changed from academic department to a mystery with evidence police investigation to a court case. This is also something I'm curious about and if it will make more sense with the album. I think it's starting to make sense now. What do you think of the new lyrics? Which were your favorites? What songs do you think they are from? I really liked the first lyric about the eclipse and I think it might be from Clara Bow, and the one that says I wish I could unrecall how we almost had it all, since it reminds me of a mix of All Too Well or Cornelia Street. I think it could be from the title song or So Long London maybe? Not sure..possibly the manuscript if it's a bonus track. The others are nice too and I will have fun making guesses about which songs they're from with my sister. For Midnights, we got half right lol and with 1989. I love all of the lyrics so far and it just makes me more excited for the album..which I knew it would, after feeling not as much as I usually am for a Taylor album. It's okay if you don't reply before listening or right away if you're just taking the album in but I hope you have fun and I will be interested to see if we have some of the same favorites! Happy listening! 🩷🩷🩷

hello!!! i loveeeed schmicadoon and schmicago — i think schmicadoon was like the perfect season 1 and i really loved how they played with a lot of musical theatre tropes, but i think that schmicago was more fun for me because pippin is up there for one of my favorite musicals and i had a blast spotting all the pippin nods/references! i'm already fighting the itch to rewatch it, but have been listening to the soundtrack all week. i haven't listened to the new conan yet but i need to — saving it for when i'm feeling better! have SO much fun on tour! i thought about getting tickets, especially since maisie is opening but conan/maisie is here the day before my mom's birthday and i'm not sure if we'll have plans (or if we'll be going out of town)!

i cannot believe the double album theorists were right!! so i guess we did have a midnightsy, 1989y, synth sounding album and a folklorey slower downed red-esque album! i'm still trying to figure out how i feel about this album; i have a lot of mixed feelings, and i think i need to do a few more listens, but wanted to reply to this first! i think first impression standouts are: but daddy i love him, down bad, loml, guilty as sin, i can do it with a broken heart, the black dog, the prophecy and the manuscript, but i haven't spent as much time with the second half of the album as i have the first, so i'll have to do some more relistening! i was able to listen to the first half of the album twice while waiting for the "2am announcement" then just fell asleep right after listening to the black dog. and then spent all of friday napping, but i'd try to stay up for a bit to hydrate, so i'd listen to like two songs at a time. not the most ideal way to listen to an album! covid really wiped me out. i'll probably relisten once i'm feeling ~ better better ~ and will post my thoughts on here when i do!

what were your first impressions? and have your favorites changed since?

an update for you! i've been (re)watching a lot of old bootlegs while i've been sick this week: the light in the piazza, next to normal, pippin, and catch me if you can. and am having a bit of an aaron tveit resurgence, if you haven't seen that from my blog already 😭 i'm not sure what i'll watch next — if you have any suggestions? i feel like we've talked a lot about taylor and some about theatre, but i'm trying to remember your favorite musicals and am coming up blank!

hope you're having a good weekend!! just wanted to say hellooooo! 🤍