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dilly-dahlia · 2 months ago

Text

v. Dollhouse of Unexpected Feelings

pairing: Gene x Reader

content: pdh, drill team!reader, opposites attract, sunshine/grumpy, angst, suggestive but not explicit, images used are NOT an indication of the reader's appearance

summary: You gladly accepted Gene's offer to work on your Physics project at his house, but . . . where were the butterflies from?

word count: 7.4k

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previous part

Dante’s house always intimidated you. It was huge. It was also further out of the city and surrounded by a big plot of land his family owned. His closest neighbor was across the street, and even then the winding driveways leading to both houses made them seem like lifetimes away. Any time you came over it was a reminder that you go to the same school he does because of a scholarship, not because your parents could afford the price tag.

Your dad let out a low whistle as he drove up the driveway, raising his brows. “These people are in a different tax bracket, Y/n. I feel poor,” he said, glancing over at you. “Is that why you’re dressed so nice?”

“I’m dressed normally.” Although you had put just a tad more effort into your hair and makeup. And, okay, maybe you were wearing one of your nicer outfits.

He raised his brow at you in suspicion. You kept your gaze locked with his until he said something else. “You’re sure there’s no boys here?”

“I never said there weren’t gonna be guys here, Dad. I literally told you my physics partner is a guy.”

He hummed like he didn’t believe you, but you knew you told him because his response had been, “Don’t go doing any double slit experiments.”

And he said the same thing now. “Alright, then. But don’t go doing any double slit experiments. Not worth it.”

Your cheeks heated and you reached up to cover your face as he pulled to a stop. You mumbled something incoherent before opening your door and carefully climbing out, cardboard box and grocery bag of craft supplies in hand.

“How you gettin’ home, tot?” your dad asked, leaning over the center console. You rested the box on the passenger seat for a moment, tapping your fingers against the sides.

“I’ll get a ride home with Katelyn if she’s here,” you replied. “Or Gene can take me, even.”

Your dad scrunched his nose. “Gene a bad kid?” You shook your head. He huffed and lifted himself back into the driver seat, shifting the car into drive. “Go home with Katelyn.”

You hummed in agreement, lifting the box back up and closing the car door. Your dad waited until you were at Dante’s front door, hand on the knob and opening it, before driving off.

Dante and his family always left the front door unlocked when they were expecting people, and not only were you there to work on your Physics project with Gene, but Dante had also invited most of the friend group to just come over and hang out.

You didn’t think that was just a coincidence. You were sure Dante (and probably another person) had some underlying motive, but you couldn’t prove anything.

The door immediately opened to the living room and kitchen. The layout of the first floor was fairly open, the only separation indicating a difference in rooms being a kitchen island with tall bar stools sitting beside it. There was hardly anything on the floor save for basic and sleek looking furniture, but the walls were covered in family photos and various hangings.

Dante—who was sitting on the couch with Garroth, Laurance, Cadenza, and Aphmau—looked toward the door when it opened. The five of them were playing Mario Kart, though Dante was sitting out. You offered a tight lipped smile.

He narrowed his eyes at you. “I thought you were busy.”

“I am.” You motioned to the box and plastic bag in your hands. “Is Gene here?”

“Who threw that blue shell?” Aphmau shouted.

“I think it was an NPC,” Garroth said, though he was biting back a laugh as he passed Aphmau’s Yoshi.

“He’s up in his room,” Dante replied, letting his head hang back so he could keep looking at you. You stepped closer to him, resting the box on the back of the couch.

“Can you go get him?”

“Why do I have to get him?”

“It’s your house, Dante.”

“Well he’s your partner.” Dante rolled his eyes, reluctantly pushing himself off the couch and trudging over to the set of stairs on the opposite side of the room. “Fine. He’ll be down in a minute.”

“Thank you,” you sang, giving him a bright smile. You immediately took his spot on the couch, watching the remainder of the Mario Kart round. Once it finished, Laurance set his controller down and leaned forward.

“Y/n.”

You blinked at him, your gaze flitting around for a moment. Aphmau and Garroth were preoccupied with choosing the next cup they were going to play, but Cadenza seemed to be listening in. You met her gaze and she shrugged.

“Laurance,” you replied, matching his monotone voice.

“You and Gene,” he started, but he didn’t elaborate. You fought the urge to roll your eyes, but you couldn’t hold back the exasperated breath you let out.

“I’m here to do a physics project with him, Laurance,” you explained. Your tone seemed strained, like you were tired of always having to explain yourself to him.

“Isn’t that what the class is for?”

“So Mr. Vega actually assigns six weeks projects to do as homework,” you said, using your hands to animate the situation. “Gene and I have barely even planned out our dollhouse and it’s due literally tomorrow.”

Laurance, always having less restraint than you, did roll his eyes. “I feel like you’re spending a lot of time with him and using physics to cover it up.”

Your brows furrowed. What was that supposed to mean?

“I’m sorry he’s my lab partner? I don’t know what you want me to tell you.” You crossed your arms defensively. The other three had picked a new cup by now, and they were silently watching your conversation with Laurance. “Even then, it’s none of your business who I talk to. I’ve already told you that you can’t police who I’m friends with.”

“That’s not-“ Laurance exhaled, running a hand through his hair. He didn’t like arguing, especially with you. And especially in front of other people. You could see it in the way his cheeks flushed, and the fact that the three onlookers were so clearly listening to the small argument only made it worse. “I’m not trying to do that.”

“It sure seems like it.”

“Just-“ Laurance took a breath, his celestine eyes meeting yours. “What is the deal with you two?”

“What do you mean? We’re friends.”

Laurance raised his brows in disbelief. “That’s why you’re so dressed up? To work on a functioning dollhouse with just a friend?”

Why did people keep saying that? “This is not dressed up.” You motioned to yourself. The denim skirt and black fitted top you had on really wasn’t. Not to you, at least. You had thought the outfit sat in the comfortable gray area between casual and dressy, but apparently not.

“It is a little nicer than usual, Y/n,” Cadenza added.

“This is my normal clothing choice!” you said, scoffing. “And if I look dressed up then it’s because I’m here of all places. Have you seen this house? If I wore literally anything else I would look so out of place.”

“Did you not just see that Dante’s wearing a muscle shirt and highlighter yellow basketball shorts.”

You held your tongue. You had seen that, and you honestly wondered if he had just rolled out of bed with it. “That’s different.”

“There is nothing different about it.”

“He lives here.”

“That doesn’t mean- Listen, if you keep up whatever thing you have with Gene you might live here, too.”

Your jaw dropped. “What? What is that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing, it just-“

“Oh, my god. You think I like Gene? That’s what this is about?”

“Of course not, Y/n. I just don’t think you should be getting so schmoozy with him.”

“I have not been getting schmoozy with him. We’re just friends, Laurance. And like I said, even if there was something, it's none of your business nor is it your place to tell me I can’t date him.”

“Do you know how pissed Dante would be if that happened?”

“Why are you bringing Dante into this?”

“Because he’s Gene’s brother, and also one of your best friends.”

“Dante is irrelevant.” It was like saying his name summoned him because you could suddenly hear Dante’s loud laugh coming from the stairwell. It bounced off the walls and in response you hit Laurance in the shoulder. “Now shut up.”

“Why did you hit me?”

You shushed him and stood up, readjusting the box in your arms so you could lift it easier. You and Laurance continued your hushed bickering for a moment, until you’d finally had enough.

“Okay, just- Just forget about it, Laurance.” You stepped around the couch, making your way over so you’d be able to meet Gene and Dante at the bottom of the stairwell. Just before you did, though, you turned your head and said, “Not a word to Dante. That goes for all of you.”

“What?” Dante asked, practically hopping off the last step of the stairs. You finally got a good look at him and realized just how ridiculous he looked. His entire person was a stark contrast to the warm color of the walls. He really did look like he had just rolled out of bed.

“Don’t worry about it,” you said, waving him off. He eyed you suspiciously, but ended up shrugging and walking back to the couch. You placed a finger over your lips, silently shushing the other four that sat around. After a moment, you turned to Gene with a smile.

He raised a brow at you, his gaze flicking between you and your friends. “What’s that about?” he asked, lifting his hand and motioning to Dante. He held a folder, and the contents of it flopped around.

You shook your head. “Nothing. Anyway, I brought a cardboard box and the wire Garroth gave me the other day. I also brought a bunch of craft stuff my mom had so we could decorate it once we finish the wiring and . . . Yeah.”

You softly hummed to fill whatever silence followed your words. You and Gene awkwardly stood across from each other, the only sound in the room being your fingers softly tapping against the box and the occasional click of a button. You wondered why no one was talking, especially since there was a group of very talkative people just a few feet away from you.

You heard Cadenza clear her throat, and when you looked over she was leaned in close to Aphmau to whisper, although not quietly, “The tension is straight out of a romance novel.”

Aphmau said something else, but you didn’t hear it because you grabbed Gene by the arm and led him to the kitchen island, wanting to get far from any other comment they might have. You lifted the box onto the counter and settled into one of the bar stools. Gene followed suit, dropping his folder next to the box.

“Okay!” you said loudly, hoping it would prompt Dante and whoever else was on the couch to talk among themselves. “You have the plan we made, right?”

“Yup.” Gene opened the folder, pulling out the folded piece of paper you had haphazardly shoved into the folder and given to Gene. He unfolded it, flattening it out against the counter and sliding it between the two of you. “We will have to redo this, by the way, because this looks like shit.”

You blinked at the paper. Not only was it extremely crinkled, but the planning itself was a dumpster fire. You could barely make out the numbers written and the lines had started rubbing away.

“Okay,” is all you said, but the simple response was such a contrast to the panic that now coursed through your veins. This project was due tomorrow, and you were starting to see that there was a reason Mr. Vega had given the class an entire six week grading period to finish it.

“I’ll do the wiring and you work on making another copy of this,” Gene said, tapping the crumpled piece of paper in front of you. He grabbed another blank sheet and slid it in front of you, along with a pencil from across the counter.

You groaned. “Why do I have to do it? I hate making the graphs.”

“Because you have better handwriting than me. Also, you know nothing about how to wire because you were asleep when Mr. Vega taught us.”

You scoffed, but you knew exactly what day Gene was talking about. You had fallen asleep in nearly all your classes because you’d pulled an all-nighter the night before. Physics, though, was probably the most embarrassing of the classes because not only did Gene actually let you sleep, but it had been a day where Mr. Vega pulled everyone in a close circle around him for the presentation. Naturally, you had sat by Gene and ended up dozing away on him. “Not true, I was paying attention.”

Gene deadpanned, holding your gaze because he knew you were bullshitting. The two of you spent a couple moments like that, just staring at each other, before you sighed dramatically and picked up the pencil.

“Fine,” you groaned, picking up the pencil and starting to write both yours and Gene’s name on the paper. From your peripheral you could see a smirk on his face. “And I was not actually sleeping that day.”

“Oh yeah, what were you doing then?”

“Resting my eyes.”

Gene laughed, but it was dry and sarcastic, before rolling his eyes. “Yeah, because the drool on my shoulder was definitely resting your eyes.”

You shushed him, reaching over to place your hand over his mouth and cover it. Your cheeks felt warm, and you could only hope you hadn’t visibly flushed. He tried speaking beneath your hand again, but you harshly shushed him once more. Gene playfully rolled his eyes before pulling your hand away from his lips.

“Get to work, Y/n.” A smile played at his lips as he spoke, and the sight made you laugh.

“Says the guy who’s been unwinding copper wire since he sat down.”

“Shut up.”

You laughed again, and a comfortable silence fell over the two of you. Of course, it wasn’t really silent since Dante and Laurance and Aphmau and anyone else were still playing MarioKart. You listened to the racing music, along with the occasional and offhanded comment one of them made every now and then. You even let a laugh slip from your lips every now and then.

A couple hours had passed. Katelyn, Travis, Nicole and Lucinda had come by and found spots to sit around the living room area. They had been taking turns playing MarioKart or Overcooked, but the group of them had now settled down and were watching Hamilton. Safe to say that you had not been expecting a live show when you showed up to the Accardi residence.

Gene, you learned, took a lot of breaks. Oftentimes it seemed as though the breaks he took lasted longer than the time he actually worked, and it had reached the point where you had finished the final copy of the planning document and decided to try (and fail) to wire a small fan. Gene found your failure to be much more amusing than anything on his phone, and had set it face down on the counter in favor of watching you.

“You’re an ass,” you eventually said. Your comment elicited a hearty chuckle from Gene.

“And why am I an ass today, bunny?”

“You’re just sitting there and staring and laughing at me. Help me, or something.”

Gene laughed again. You noticed he did that a lot more the longer you knew him. Maybe the two of you were just getting more comfortable with each other, but you couldn’t recall any time you had seen him really laugh before this year. Before, you would see him in passing in the halls. Sometimes the two of you would lock eyes and you’d offer a soft smile and small wave, but Gene just stared at you until you looked away. Even when you saw him with Sasha and Zenix, he always looked brooding.

He reached over, pulling the copper wire and poorly made paper fan from your hands. Your fingers brushed together, and for the brief moment that they did you let yourself savor the feel of his calluses against your hands. For a brief moment you felt the warmth of his hand against yours, and you enjoyed it.

What?

Your gaze flicked up to meet the deepest blue you’d ever seen. You quickly pulled your hand away from his to brush hair out of your face, softly clearing your throat and glancing to where most of Dante’s group was belting the lyrics to Satisfied. You kept your gaze on the TV as Gene wired the fan, watching before you noticed Katelyn in your peripheral.

She was staring you down. Compared to the rest—who were all practically acting out Angelica’s grievances like they were the ones suffering from the tragedy of ‘right person wrong time’—she actually stuck out like a sort thumb, which was surprising considering she loved theater. Then again, it really wasn’t because of how adamant she always was about disliking it for some reason. Regardless to say, she was staring you down and you didn’t have a clue as to why.

You furrowed your brows, slightly cocking your head as if to say, What?

In response, Katelyn lifted her eyebrows and subtly nodded her head to Gene, even flicked her gaze to him.

Your eyebrows unfurrowed, but you slightly widened your eyes. Again, as if to ask, What?

Katelyn rolled her eyes, and nodded her head more distinctly to your physics partner. Her eyes were wider than saucers, and she moved her lips to mouth something.

Unfortunately, you were garbage at lip reading, and instead furrowed your brows again in confusion. You got one of her messages when Katelyn held her hands out in front of her, shaking them back in forth like she was going to strangle you.

Which, knowing her, wasn’t an entirely impossible thought.

“What are you doing?” Gene asked from beside you. He had been watching the silent conversation with your friend, and he seemed almost as lost as you.

“Nothing,” fell from your lips faster than lightning. Immediately you peeled your gaze from Katelyn to meet his instead. “Nothing.”

“Right.” Gene spared one last glance to Katelyn before pushing the bare bones of the completed dollhouse to you. “Well, we’re done with the wiring. Now, since you want that extra credit so bad, all we have to do is decorate it.”

“You’re talking like you don’t also need the extra credit, Mister Forty-Seven.”

“I am perfectly fine with making a bare minimum grade in that class—”

“A forty-seven isn’t—”

“—you, however, are the one crying about a seventy-seven.”

You deadpanned, glaring at him. “You do know I’m at Phoenix Drop High on scholarship, right?”

“So?”

You let out a sound akin to a scoff of disbelief. You kept your mouth slightly agape, just staring at Gene until he raised his eyebrows and motioned for you to continue. Then you sighed, lifting your hand to your mouth.

“You really are in a different tax bracket,” you mumbled, to which Gene laughed. You lowered your hand from your lips, crossing your arms on the counter and looking at him instead. “Gene, you realize tuition for Phoenix Drop High is twenty-thousand dollars a year, right?”

“Y/n, I know how much it costs and I know you’re there on scholarship.”

“I know, but you don��t know the requirements to keep the scholarship,” you said, cutting him off from speaking any further. “I need to stay in my extracurricular for the entire time I attend the school, I need good student behavior, and I also need to maintain an eighty plus average in all of my classes. I only get one pass for my grade to drop below that and I already used it last year.”

Gene whistled, tapping his fingers against the counter. “What class did you fail? And why? I can’t see you failing any of your classes, let alone get below an eighty.”

“Unimportant.” You didn’t want to get into the depression rut you had put yourself into that stemmed from dating Laurance. It was such a deep hole you had to take a week off school for your mental health and to catch yourself up. It was close to what you imagined hell to be like. “But anyways. I’m literally three points from making an eighty, Gene, please. I need that extra credit.”

He laughed, another genuine sound you were getting used to hearing, and shook his head. “Alright. What all did you bring?”

You smiled at him, which he returned. Except this one wasn’t like the mischievous or cunning smiles he often gave you or anyone else. He didn’t bare his perfect teeth and kept his lips closed. In fact, his smile was downturned. Now that you had seen it, you couldn’t imagine him with a smile where the corners of his lips curled up.

You reached for the plastic Hobby Lobby bag across the counter. Once you slid it toward yourself, you untied the knot and began pulling some of the supplies out, briefly explaining what they could be used for to Gene. You both decided to start making furniture with the air dry clay that had been sitting in your closet for who knows how long. Somehow, it retained its softness and remained easily molded.

“You are putting way too much effort into this,” Gene commented after he had watched you add the tiniest details to the table you were making with a toothpick. His voice was light, almost like he was holding back a laugh.

“You made a solid cube and called it a toaster so I don’t want to hear it,” you retorted, glancing up to meet his gaze. His eyes were trained on your hands, watching intently as you added wood grain texture to the clay.

Okay, maybe you were adding way too much detail, but you tended to hyper focus on the small things. It wasn’t your fault, really. It was just so calming sometimes. It gave you an opportunity to zero in on one thing and forget about some of your other responsibilities for a bit.

Gene gently grabbed your hand. Once again you felt his callouses against the softness of your skin and found yourself longing for a more lingering touch. Something that wasn’t so fleeting. His warm hand pried the table from your hands and set it into the designated kitchen space in the cardboard dollhouse to paint and hot glue once all the pieces had been finished.

“I think our table has enough detail,” he said, giving you another one of his downturned smiles. Your gaze flicked to his lips to admire it and the sight nearly made your heart jump up to your throat. “All we need now is, what? A bed?”

You blinked at him, hardly even noticing he had posed a question—suggestion?—until he repeated it.

“Oh! Yes. Yeah, a bed, probably.” You laughed nervously. “Where else would someone sleep?”

Your stupid question made Gene playfully roll his eyes. For some reason, the action had you questioning everything. His eye rolls, whether they were genuine or joking, never made you feel any particular way, so what was this?

Hamilton had ended by now. It was getting closer to one in the afternoon as well, and you were starting to get hungry. You hadn’t had anything to eat that day except a glass of milk to down an allergy pill and ibuprofen and a slice of bread with Nutella spread across it. And you only ate half of that before accidentally dropping it on the ground, sticky side down, just as you stepped into your dad’s car that morning. You were thankful when you overheard Dante and Aphmau and all of them discussing plans for the rest of the day.

They were debating whether or not they wanted to DoorDash something or actually go out. And then they were talking about whether or not they would even come back to Dante’s since it was getting late, at least to their standards. You heard the words Chinese, deli, Chick-fil-a and buffet tossed around before they decided to go to a local pizza buffet no one knew the name of but everyone loved.

You hadn’t even noticed that Gene had started molding the doll sized bed. You watched him work, studying the way his fingers pressed against the clay to shape it and the way he rubbed it smooth and thought about how you'd feel if he—

Woah. Let’s stop that train of thought before it gets anywhere.

You shook your head to rid your mind of the dirty image you had unintentionally given yourself, your cheeks hot. Gene noticed and looked up at you with his eyebrows furrowed, giving you a once over like you were crazy. You only smiled at him, acting like nothing had happened and that you definitely didn’t catch yourself thinking about that with him.

Nope. That didn’t happen, and it would never happen. Not in a million years. Because you didn’t even like him.

“Gene, we’re heading out!” Dante called. He swiped a set of keys from the bowl near the front door and slipped his shoes on.

“Do not crash my car, you idiot,” Gene said, catching sight of the guitar pick that dangled from the chain. “If you even nick it, you're paying for damage repair.”

“You got it!” Dante was out the door before anyone else.

You hummed in amusement at the display, and when Katelyn walked closer to you and came up to your side, you instinctively held your hand out to hold hers.

“We’re going to that pizza place on Wayfare,” she said. She took hold of your hand and held it against her cheek. “Do you want to come along?”

“Me too?” Gene piped up from beside you. He gave Katelyn one of his cunning, toothy smiles, and her response was a scowl and nasty side eye.

You shook your head. “No. Me and Gene still have to finish this stupid project.” You sighed heavily. You wanted with your full being to throw this cardboard project out the window and into a pit of blazing fire. You hoped it exploded.

“Want me to bring you anything?”

“Dr. Pepper and a brownie, please,” you requested, fluttering your lashes at your friend.

“Katelyn, we’re waiting on you!” someone—it sounded like Lucinda—called from the door. Katelyn rolled her eyes, letting go of your hand and squeezing your cheek.

“I will return with Dr. Pepper and the biggest center piece of brownie you’ve ever seen,” she said, saluting to you before wishing you luck on the project and jogging to the front door.

She closed it behind her. The sound echoed through the house, and you suddenly became very aware that it was only you and Gene. Awkwardly, you lifted your hand to scratch at the side of your neck.

It was quiet without everyone else. Too quiet. You could feel the tension in the air, though you couldn’t tell what it was from. You glanced over at Gene. He seemed perfectly fine with the silence and continued working on molding the miniature bed, so maybe the awkwardness was something you were making up.

“Do you mind if I play music?” you suddenly blurted. You really couldn’t handle the silence, especially with him, Which was weird because you never minded it before. You actually preferred the silence when you were with him, because it gave you a chance to look over his shoulder and snoop on whatever he was doing on his phone or just watch his mannerisms. He usually picked up a pen the same way he did a cigarette, and sometimes he would hold it between his pointer and middle fingers the same way. And lately he had been plucking cigarettes out of their box and just holding them between his lips, not even lighting them.

“Go for it,” Gene said, setting the bed down and wiping his hands against his pants. “Do you want something to eat, by the way? I know I’m definitely hungry so you probably are, too. I can order something.”

“Sure,” you said, absentmindedly scrolling through your playlists before deciding to just hit shuffle on your liked songs and hope for the best. You prayed something from your middle school years wouldn't come up in the queue. “Don’t dog on my music, Gene.”

“Why would I . . .” Gene trailed off as the tune to Taylor Swift’s “You Belong With Me” started playing. He held your gaze and you held his. This was definitely not the song you wanted to be the first to play, but at least it was more in tune with your current taste. “What is this?”

“Music.”

“Y/n.”

“You said you wouldn’t dog on my music, Gene.”

“False. I never said that. You said that and then didn’t even give me the chance to agree, so I can dog on your music all I want.”

“But that’s mean. You shouldn’t do that.”

“I want you to give me a good look, Y/n, and tell me if I've ever cared about being mean.”

“You’re being very judgemental for someone that recognized the song in two notes,” you said, raising a brow at him in question. “You got experience with this song?”

“Of course I know this song. It’s Taylor Swift.”

You hummed in disbelief, side eyeing him and looking him up and down, before turning the volume on your phone up and setting it on the counter. “Sure. I’ll believe you, I guess. Anyway, what were you thinking to eat?”

“I was just gonna DoorDash Chick-fil-a,” he said, tapping on his phone. “Sandwich and fries good?”

You nodded. “With Dr. Pepper. And I can pay you back for mine.”

Gene waved you off, standing from the stool he sat in and sauntering over to the fridge. He didn’t look up from his phone, but somehow he knew where exactly a cold can of Dr. Pepper sat and placed it in front of you. “It’s fine. I got it, bunny.”

“You already let me come over for the project, I can-“

“A project we both needed to work on,” he cut in, setting his phone to the side. “I don’t mind paying. As you said, I’m in a different tax bracket so it’s basically pennies to me.”

He gave you another one of his stupidly adorable downturned smiles before laughing at the sight of your unimpressed expression.

“Let me pay you back, Gene.”

“I will not accept your money.”

“I’ll sneak it in your bag.”

“And I’ll put it right back into yours.” Gene raised his brows, holding your gaze once again. His was clear, and it seemed to click in your head just how pretty his eyes were. “I’m paying.”

You huffed, making it much more exaggerated than it needed to be. “Fine. But don’t think I owe you anything big or something! I’ll pay next time, okay?”

Despite the butterflies that seemed to have found themselves flapping in your stomach (when did those get there?), you still knew Gene. You knew he often took small favors and then held them over people’s heads. I did this for you so you do this for me. That’s one of the ways he would get people, and you refused to fall for it.

“What could you even do for me?”

“I’m not joining the Shadow Knights,” you said. Gene rolled his eyes.

“You’re basically already in it.”

“Am not. There’s a difference between being in it and being friends with the people in it.”

“Right.” Gene scoffed. “Sure, bunny. If that makes you feel better.”

You weren’t sure how it happened, but it wasn’t long until the food came and you decided to take a break. You and Gene settled yourselves on the couch and scrolled through his Hulu account, trying to find something to fill the time until you decided to get back to work.

“I can’t believe you’re making me watch 90 Day Fiancé,” Gene said, letting the remote drop onto the coffee table before leaning back. He propped his legs up, crossing them at the ankles.

“You literally clicked on it without my comment,” you replied. You were sitting on the opposite end of the couch, as far away from him as you could get. Your legs were pulled up to your chest and you had precariously balanced your food on the armrest.

“Can’t believe you’re making me watch 90 Day Fiancé,” he repeated, letting out a prolonged sigh. It made you chuckle, and you glanced over at him just to find that he was already looking at you.

“You’re so dumb.” You rolled your eyes and looked away. If you had to look at him any more you might explode. What from, you weren’t entirely sure.

You imagined he rolled his eyes as well, but he definitely reached over to playfully hit your arm before pretending he did nothing. When you turned to chastise him, his eyes were trained on the TV, and he was clearly holding back a laugh. You decided not to say anything, and just continued eating.

Somehow, some way, you shifted closer to Gene. It wasn’t so close that you were touching or anything, and there was still nearly an entire cushion between the two of you, but you did shift closer. And somewhere among the easy conversation and unexpectedly passionate debates and criticisms of the show’s choices, you found yourself wanting to get used to this.

—

You were on your way out of the house with Katelyn when the sound of Gene’s voice stopped you. When you looked back, he was leaning against the doorway. Behind him you could see the completed dollhouse that had been moved to the coffee table so he didn’t forget it in the morning.

You had to look up slightly to be able to look at Gene properly, and it made your face hot. He leaned against the doorway in the same way you imagined the love interests in the books you read to, and that thought did nothing to quell the butterflies that had been present since . . . Well, you weren’t sure.

“Zenix and I are heading over to Sasha’s for a movie night on Friday, if you want to come,” he said. He reached up to run a hand through his dark curls. You could tell he had gotten hot because now he only wore a tank top undershirt instead of the flannel he had layered on top of it.

It took you a moment to gather yourself, but you nodded. “Yeah, I-I’d love you.”

Hearing yourself stutter only made you more flustered. Gene caught it and smiled, and you could tell he was about to tease you about it because his lips turned up.

“You’d love to?” he said, pitching his voice higher in a sad attempt to mimic yours. He laughed when you playfully hit him across the chest. “We were planning on staying the night and going to the fair Saturday morning.”

You could only nod again. “Yeah, that works. I might not stay the night, but I can definitely come to the movie and fair with you guys.”

Gene gave you a swift nod and pressed his lips together. “Cool. Uh, see you tomorrow, Y/n.”

You lifted your hand to offer a wave to Gene as you stepped down his porch. “Bye.”

He raised his hand as well, and watched you until you opened the passenger door to Katelyn’s car and stepped inside. When you looked back at the doorway, Gene was just closing the door.

It was late, and you and Katelyn were the last to leave the Accardi house because of that stupid physics project. It was a devil sent from the innermost circle of hell, you swore. There was no part of it that you enjoyed, and once Mr. Vega gave it back you planned on burning it until it was nothing but a pile of ash.

“So,” Katelyn started, dragging out the word as she pulled out of Gene’s winding driveway. “Wanna talk about anything? Something I should know?” You shook your head. “No? Not like, I dunno, your entire day with Gene. You were kind of acting weird.”

“I know!” You folded easily. So, so easily. It wasn’t hard to make you do that, but you especially couldn’t keep up any kind of front with Katelyn. All she needed to do was ask one open ended question and suddenly you were making her a word salad. “Katelyn, I don’t know what’s happening.”

“Woah. Okay. Maybe take a breath.” She clearly hadn’t been expecting that reaction. Normally she would’ve been more firm—she might’ve breathed along with you, but she was driving.

“It’s so . . .” You sputter like a fish out of water, trying to articulate sentences. All your words had left you, though, and there was not a single thought in your head except for panic. “It’s so weird! I don’t even know what’s happening. Suddenly out of nowhere I’m . . . Eh.”

You didn’t know how to articulate it into words, so Katelyn could only guess how you were feeling based on the exaggerated hand motions and awkward stuttering. Which she had never been good at explaining to herself, but based on the other information she had, she could take a guess.

But she wouldn’t voice her guess to you. She would keep it to herself because saying it would only make your spiral worse. She also knew you preferred to talk yourself into and out of situations, so she hoped you would be less sporadic by the time she dropped you off.

“I don’t even like him!” you exclaimed. You wanted to pull you hair out, and you almost did. You tugged at the ends of it and groaned. “I don’t even like him. Why is this happening?”

Katelyn huffed in amusement. ‘I don’t even like him,’ my ass, she thought.

“I don’t even know if we’re friends. I mean, I consider us to be friends, but what if he doesn’t? What if he thinks I’m just some girl that’s best friends with his best friend and he just wants me gone? What if-”

“Why are you so worried about whether or not Gene thinks you’re friends?” Katelyn asked, raising her brow and sparing you a quick glance.

“I don’t know!” You groaned again, sliding down in Katelyn’s passenger seat and pulling your knees to your chest. It definitely wasn’t the safest position in a moving vehicle, but it was the closest you could get to curling into a ball and falling through the earth. “I think I’m psyching myself out. Am I psyching myself out?”

“Most definitely.”

“I just- Ugh. I know you know I already thought Gene was cute, but today it was, like, way worse. Katelyn, he actually smiled.”

“He smiles a lot, I feel like?” Katelyn wasn’t actually sure. Every time she saw him, though, his lips were always curled up. Like he had something up his sleeve. It freaked her out sometimes.

“No, like he smiled, Katelyn. A genuine, actual smile.” You covered your face with your hands. You wanted the world to open up and swallow you just to get away from this weird feeling in your stomach. You wanted to get rid of the weird pull on your heart and get rid of whatever fog was messing with your head. “And his eyes are so pretty, oh my god. I’m going to die.”

Katelyn huffed, scrunching her nose. “Is this like the crash out you had when you realized you liked Laurance?”

“No.” You were very firm with it. You were so serious, in fact, that you returned to sitting like a normal person to look at Katelyn dead on to make your point. “It is not the same because I don’t like Gene.”

“Right.”

“I don’t! I don’t and I never will because he’s a bad, bad, terrible person and he doesn’t care about his actions or the consequences and he does illegal things and I don’t even want to be associated with him.” That’s what you had been told, anyway, and that’s the reputation that preceded Gene. It was natural for people to say that about him, so it was completely normal for you to think that.

Katelyn could feel that there was more you needed to let out. “But?”

“But he’s not that bad!” If you were in your room with her, you would’ve dramatically thrown yourself onto your bed like a distressed maiden. Instead, you settled for folding over and groaning at the car floor. “He isn’t that bad, at least to me, and I don’t know if I’m being delusional or if it’s true.”

Katelyn couldn’t help but laugh. She knew you were lying to yourself, because the only times she had seen you so passionate about something was your Silver Starlet routines and when you told her you liked Laurance. That was a very similar conversation to this one, except Laurance wasn’t a completely jackhead like everyone made Gene out to be, so there was a lot less back and forth.

“I think you are being completely insane,” Katelyn started. The two of you had made it back into what was officially considered Phoenix Drop, so there were more lights highlighting your face and running across your field of vision. “However, I say to give it like, a week, or something.”

“I see him in less than twenty-four hours.”

“O-kay.” Katelyn pulled to a stop at a red light, letting her hands drop from the wheel and taking the opportunity to look at you. “Then roll it over in your head until you see him tomorrow, I guess.”

“You are not helpful.”

You friend lifted her hands in surrender. “Hey, you are the one that decided to vent to me. The only romantic experience I’ve ever had is with Jeffory, and as of now we are in a rather happy relationship.”

You glared at her. Of course she had to bring up that her life was completely void of boy problems because of whatever excuse she pulled from a cup.

“Y’know, I thought you’d be a lot more judgemental about this.”

She shrugged. “I mean, I already knew you think he’s cute. For some reason. I’m not exactly happy or elated about it, but whatever, I guess.”

“Wow. So you just don’t care if he ends up axe murdering me and dumping me in the ocean.”

“Listen, that’s on you if you decide to spend more time with Gene. If he kills you, obviously I will kill him in return, but at your funeral I’m leaning down into your casket and whispering, I told you so.” Her face lit up green and she pressed on the gas. The sun had just set, so the sky behind her was a pretty violet color. “But also if you end up heartbroken because of him, that’s also your own fault because you know he isn’t the best.”

You huffed, turning to look out your window and leaning your head against the glass. “I don’t even like him, so I’m not going to end up heartbroken. You can only get heartbroken about something if you care about it.”

Katelyn glanced over at you, not quite believing your words because she knew you. She knew you were someone that did things slowly and then all at once without even realizing it. That’s what had happened with Laurance, and look how that turned out. Not only did the aftermath of that relationship leave you in shambles for multiple reasons, but she could also see that your breakup was still affecting you.

She just hoped that you ended up happy, even if your happiness meant being with what she would consider the vermin of Phoenix Drop High. She also hoped that for your sake, you would realize what was happening before everything came all at once and you drowned.

it's been a while but I hope y'all enjoy until the next time I update because it might be another while lmao (school is killing me im so tired)

but anyways! i'm going to bed (< a complete lie) I love y'all have a good day mwah

TAGGING: @garrothswiferealnotfake @wasting-away-on-the-internet @mellozhi @pushingdaisies1 @orinlin @luckygirldotgov @snowblossomsx @lucciluvr @oliemolliever @endo-bunny @purpledsun @angelhyperfixates @angelarabella @dontcrackyourpinkytoes @siochandess @vanoilette @revengexmason @neptunesfantasies @natpakk @thehumanartist

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carriagelamp · 6 months ago

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My favourite books from 2024! Another really strong year of books for me -- every year will have some stinkers and a bunch of middling reads, but the highs of this year were really high so I'm pretty content

As always, I give more detailed descriptions and opinions of the books in my month reviews, but here's a quick breakdown for anyone who's interested:

The Anxious Generation by Jonathan Haidt

A non-fiction book that looks at how childhood has been “rewired”, focusing specifically on the increase of overprotective parenting, increase of tablet/social media usage, and decrease of unstructured, independent play. It was a fascinating read that really looked at how children need to be given lots of opportunities to play, take risks, and make mistakes in order to learn and grow and how a loss of that might be impacting people’s mental health. As someone right on the cusp of the age bracket that’s being focused on, it felt very exposing.

Apothecary Diaries v1-2 by Natsu Hyuuga

Maomao is kidnapped and sold as a servant to the imperial palace, where she serves as a general dogsbody in the rear palace, home of the emperor’s various consorts and concubines. She’s determined to keep her head down until her contract is up… until she helps solve a mystery and catches the eye of the powerful eunech Jinshi who soon learns about her in-depth knowledge of apothecary work and anything to do with poisons. Very funny premise, Maomao hates Jinshi soooo much and he is such a simp for it. She just wants to eat poisons and be left alone and he says “no<3” to both of those

Bury Your Gays (and Straight) by Chuck Tingle

Both of these are very explicitly queer horror novels. Straight is a novella that riffs on the format of a zombie story, but with straight people becoming inexplicably violent towards queer people one day a year. Bury Your Gays is about a Hollywood screenwriter who realises his horror creations are begin to stalk him in the real world. Both are very intentionally built around social commentary on queer issues, and despite have audacious premises they completely own their camp and end up producing really well thought out, insightful stories. I can’t say I liked either as much as Camp Damascus but either is worth a read.

Console Wars by Blake J. Harris (and Blood, Sweat, and Pixels by Jason Schreier)

Console Wars is a nonfiction book I’ve meant to read for years on my brother’s recommendation and I quite enjoyed it. It explores the history of the video game console market in North America, with a focus on how Nintendo revitalized it and how Sega then swooped in to upset the monopoly it held. The book is written in a very narrative, personable style and I found myself really rooting for the various people and companies being portrayed ahahaha. A shockingly fun read. I also read Blood, Sweat, and Pixels which wasn’t quite as narratively compelling but a related read that looked at games with complex development cycles.

Defekt by Nino Cipri

Technically the sequel to Finna which I also read this year, but Defekt works as a stand-alone and is, imho, the better of the two. Both deal with a surrealist horror Ikea setting, where the sheer density and liminal-space-ness of it all allows strange wormholes to open up between these stores from different dimensions. Finna deals with actual wormhole hopping, whereas Defekt focuses in on one employee who gets assigned to a very strange overnight inventory shift.

The Disabled Tyrant’s Beloved Pet Fish v1-2 by Xue Shan Fei Hu

Fish isekai book. Is this a good book? No. Is it a really really fun book? Yes, in spades. In this book, Li Yu wakes up in a court drama novel… but not as a character but rather as the tyrannical prince’s pet fish. He is given the task to improve the prince and is stuck figuring out how the hell to do this as a fish. This book knows exactly how ridiculous it is and leans into it. Li Yu and Prince Jing are both idiots in very unique and exciting directions. No one knows what the fuck is happening.

Down Among the Sticks and Bones by Seanan McGuire

A prequel to Every Heart a Doorway, though it works perfectly well as a standalone. Honestly I liked it more than the first. This book has deliciously gothic horror vibes, and it plays with all the tropes you would expect from gothic horror / fear of the sublime. It’s about sisters who find a strange chest that lets them descend to the sinister land of the Moors. This is where vampires rule, werewolves stalk, and mad scientist’s ply their craft. The girls end up separated on and very different trajectories as they grow and acclimatize to the brutal existence of the Moors.

Escape From Incel Island by Margaret Killjoy

Exactly what it says on the tin. Completely insane book that is very worth the read if you feel like something that is patently insane. I strongly recommend treating this as a read aloud with a friend or loved one because I read it with my brother and couldn’t stop laughing. Top notch mercenary Mankiller Jones is sent to escort a computer scientist to Incel Island to retrieve lost governmental data. There they have to survive the hoards of Nice Guys, Volcels, Betas, and every other violent inhabitant of the island if they ever want to… escape from Incel Island.

Heaven Official’s Blessing v6-8 by Mo Xiang Tong Xiu

I finished the main series of Heaven Official’s Blessing (without reading the extras yet), and man what an ending! I could not have asked for a more epic or satisfying conclusion! The final battle and its various stages? The character reconciliation? The villain reveal? Perfect, no notes. The series itself follows Xie Lian, a prince who has ascended to godhood twice and been cursed and cast out from Heaven just as many times, giving him the title of the Laughingstock God. The story begins with him, to everyone’s dismay, ascending a third time.

Horrorstör (and Paperbacks from Hell, My Best Friend’s Exorcism) by Grady Hendrix

This book also deals with a Strange Alternate Ikea, but is the superior book. This was one of my top reads for 2024, and it was flawless horror. It is essentially a haunted house story set in an Ikea, that manages to be both chilling, disgusting, and a shockingly insightful critique of capitalism and retail. Very worth the read.

After reading this I also read Paperbacks from Hell (a nonfiction book that does an analysis of horror fiction from the ‘70s and ‘80s, very good read) and My Best Friend’s Exorcism (which was decent but not my favourite of Hendrix’s since possession and exorcism isn’t my favourite brand of horror. The vaguely queer undertones and ending I found interesting, and it did some cool things throughout.)

Jeeves and Wooster books by P.G. Wodehouse

I ended up listening to so many of the Jeeves and Wooster audiobooks this summer while I was travelling. There were some I really really loved and some that fell very flat for me. I think I listened to too many in a row by the end… These books are like popcorn, not deep but very fun, and follow the airheaded but good natured Bertie Wooster and his man Jeeves who unfailing swoops in to solve all the strange and inane problems the Bertie gets involved in. They tend to be funny, light-hearted, and clever in their resolution of plot problems… though some of the issues do get rather repetitive. My favourites were: The Inimitable Jeeves, Very Good Jeeves, Right Ho Jeeves, and the Code of the Woosters.

Kaiju Preservation Society by John Scalzi

Some excellent science fiction, especially for my Pacific Rim loving heart. This bordered on the cosy fantasy genre, while mixing in plenty of science, world-building and a good dash of excitement. During the Covid-19 lockdown, Jamie Gray is stuck trying to make ends meet as a food delivery driver… until he runs into an old acquaintance who suggests he might have a very different job offer for him. Jamie ends up joining this very secretive “animal rights group” and finds out just how massive, dangerous, and otherworldly these “animals” are by being risked to an entirely different dimension filled with giant, radioactive monsters.

Lula Dean’s Little Library of Banned Books by Kirsten Miller

One of my favourite books from this year! Tthis book managed to hit on very topical subjects with both tact and humour. Lula Dean has spearheaded a book banning crusade, managing to get a number of “problematic” books removed from the library and has made a show of setting up a Little Free Library in her yard full of “appropriate” books instead. When Beverly Underwood visits her mother and hears about this she’s so exasperated with it all that she quickly hatches a plan swapping out the dust jackets of some of the banned books with the ones in Lula Dean’s Little Free Library. The rest of the story is about various people in the town who borrow a book from Lula Dean’s library and how the book they got instead ends up impacting not just themselves but their town. The first story involves a penis cake. Can’t recommend it enough, starts out humour and quickly becomes something you want to rally around.

My Happy Marriage v1 by Akumi Agitogi

This was pure mindless fluff, it was honestly a delight. This is a low-fantasy, Cinderella-esque story set in the Taishō era. It focuses on Miyo Saimori who lives under the thumb of her cruel step-mother, haughty step-sister, and indifferent father. She’s resigned to being treated like a servant in her own home and ekeing out a strained existence, but her life takes a turn when she finds herself nominally engaged to the allegedly cold and cruel Kiyoka Kudou. It’s just absolutely overwhelmingly cute and I really enjoy the contrasting POVs.

A Series of Unfortunate Events and Poison for Breakfast by Lemony Snicket

I’d never finished The Series of Unfortunate Events when it was originally coming out, so I finally sat down and did that, and honestly it was well worth the wait! It was a very interesting series to read as an adult, especially all in one go, because it really let me appreciate everything that Snicket was trying to say. It was a much more clever and philosophical read than I was anticipating, and The End was fucking superb. He absolutely stuck the landing, it completely blew me away. Poison For Breakfast was also a very interesting standalone novella that felt like surrealist philosophy. I might have even enjoyed it more than the basic TSOUE.

The Poison Squad (and The Poisoner’s Handbooks) by Deborah Blum

Poison Squad is a very compelling and topical nonfiction about the formation of the American Food and Drug act. The state of unregulated food processing in the late 19th century was, in a word, nightmarish. Don’t read this book if you have a weak stomach. But it’s completely fascinating to see how one person, Dr Harvey Wiley, made it a personal mission to scientifically prove what all these mysterious food additives were doing to people and put limits to what could be sold to consumers. I liked it so much I went to read Blum’s other book, The Poisoner’s Handbook which is set during Prohibition and explores the rise of forensic medicine and again exposes how people were being poisoned by simply living their standard lives.

The Pushcart War by Jean Merrill

The real, true history of the New York City Pushcart War!! For real!!! This is a delightful underdog story that is really written in the style of a history textbook recounting the fictional Pushchart War. This war started in New York City as the roads get increasingly congested with traffic, the worst offenders being the increasingly massive and arrogant trucks. The trucking companies hatch a plan though: if they begin to push out the little pushcarts, framing them as the problem for the congestion, then how hard would it be to push out taxis next? Or buses? Or motorcars? How long until they can make the road a perfect habit for trucks and trucks alone? How can something as small and poor as a pushcart owner fight back?

Railsea (and This Census-Taker) by China Miéville

I heard Railsea described on tumblr and it sounded sufficiently insane that I had to read it for myself. This author is truly unrivaled when it comes to bizarre worldbuilding that feels both very, very grounded in reality while also being completely unexplained and impossible. Railsea is essentially a Moby Dick meets Treasure Island retelling but with trains instead of boats and giant, mutated, vicious moles instead of whales. Unhinged. Can’t recommend enough. I followed this up by reading his novella This Census-Taker which was not as much of a frolicking adventure but fucked with my brain just as much or more than Railsea did. Genuinely not sure I even know what happened in that story but I enjoyed the experience of being completely fucking baffled for some 200 pages.

The Salt Grows Heavy by Cassandra Khaw

Another book to ideally not read if you have a weak stomach. This novella is very big on unrelenting body horror. This is a twisted fairytale retelling in which a cannibalistic Little Mermaid meets a plague doctor Frankenstein. Both of them are walking away from cruel past lives, along a trail that’s soaked in blood and viscera. You feel how painfuly and disgustingly human this book is, while also being so wildly separate from anything that resembles human anatomy or morality. Superb.

Scum Villain’s Self-Saving System v1-4 by Mo Xiang Tong Xiu

The last of MXTX’s three series I needed to read. It was the one I was most hesitant about, but I ended up having a really great time with it. It is simultaneously the most light-hearted and silly of the three series, while also the one that most gleefully dives into torture and sex. So you get a bit of everything with this, and as usual MXTX does a really good job of mixing the humour and series in a way that keeps things constantly interesting. The story is about Shen Yuan who dies our of pure, frothing fury after reading the shitty ending to the shitty, porny webnovel he’s been reading for hundreds of thousands of words. He dies cursing the lousy author and the lousy writing so he’s given a chance: step up and do it better! Which is easier said than done, when he finds himself waking up in the body of the series’ villain who is destined to be gruesomely tortured to death. Better get on that!

Shakespeare: The Man Who Pays the Rent by Judi Dench and Brendan O'Hea

This is the written result of a number of interviews held between Judi Dench and Brendan O’Hea and she discusses her time as a Shakespearean actress. It looks into what her time working with theatre companies was like, summarizes the plays she took part in, and delivers into some fascinating character analysis of the roles she played. An absolute treasure of a book for someone who enjoyed their Shakespeare and/or Judi Dench.

Singing Hills Cycle v1-5 by Nghi Vo

Probably my favourite series that I read this year, I can’t wait for the next book! This series follows Chih and her magical bird companion who come from the Singing Hills Monastery, an order that is devoted to keep recording tales and keeping a history of the land. Chih travels all over in these various novellas, collecting stories, memories, and histories that they come across. The first book has them entering the recently unwarded palace of the late Empress to learn about her marriage, imprisonment and rise in power. The second has them trapped by a pack of tigresses with nothing to do but frantically lure them into comparing stories.

The War That Saved My Life by Kimberly Brubaker Bradley

Ten year old Ada was born with a club foot and because of it has never been allowed to leave her apartment. She lives a hard life trying to care for her younger brother and suffer through the abuses of her mother. Things change though as the Second World War truly begins and London begins to evacuate children to the country. Ada is determined — she and her brother will evacuate, they will escape their mother’s house, even if it means her learning how to walk on her club foot. Even if it means facing how different life is for unwanted slum children in the country, and confronting how much she and her brother don’t know about life. This was a very touching book, it did a great job of balancing Ada’s justifiable pain and anger with an optimistic story. Queer elements are all subtext but there — they aren’t the main focus of this story.

When Women Were Dragons by Kelly Barnhill

This book absolutely took my breath away, it was a next level literary experience. It’s very, very solidly magical realism, so don’t go into this expecting true fantasy, everything going on here is allegorical and a beautifully done allegory at that. This story is set during the 1950s, in a time surrounding an event known as “The Mass Dragoning” when thousands of women suddenly, spontaneously, transformed into dragons and flew away. The story follows Alex Green who was a child during this event. Her aunt transformed. Her mother didn’t. Both of these things have profound impacts on Alex as she grows up, and a woman’s role in society, a woman’s anger, her joy, her desire are all questioned and explored.

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beachbxtchforev · 1 year ago

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I’m Wearing UNC Blue for Him

after you support Rafe at his big game, he shows his appreciation for you on the way home.

pairing: basketballplayer!Rafe x fem!reader

word count: 1k

warnings: 18+, fingering, slow burn, some curse words, use of “baby”

1:37 left on the clock. the Heels lead the Huskies 78-72. Connecticut possession.

this was one of Rafe’s biggest games of the season. going against last year’s NCAA conference champs, UNC needs to pull off this win to secure a top bracket position. the roar of Chapel Hill was mind numbing, your ears were ringing from the chanting that surrounded you. today, you opted to sit with the Cameron’s instead of cheering from the student section because they often secured seats closer to the court. you wanted to be able to see Rafe up close, maybe even give him a glimpse of you showing your support for extra motivation.

the ball is thrown in from the sideline, making its way up the court towards UConn’s basket. their player goes for a layup and makes it. 78-74. 1:24. Kelce checks the ball to Rafe, with the two of them making their way back towards their hoop. UConn’s impressive defense forces the ball to be passed until Rafe can make his way into the paint. he once again gets the ball and is quickly fouled. just as you expected. you hate when the game is close in the end with both teams doing whatever it takes to prevent points.

you stand for Rafe’s free-throws, thumb nail up to your mouth out of habit, feeling the stress of 20,000 fans watching his every move. he bounces the ball, shoots, and sinks it. thank god, now just do it again. and he does. 80-74. 1:10.

the minute left of game play really takes ten, anxiety seeping into your every move. Rafe has the ball with four seconds left, taking a shot from the 3 point line. its in! the Heels win!

you fly out of your seat, hands reaching the air, quickly turning to Sarah at your side to embrace out of relief. Ward high fives you as Rose’s smile beams.

Rafe always takes a while to join the group after a game, especially one as big as tonight’s. when he comes out of the locker room you are so excited to see him that you run to jump into his arms. “you did it baby! im so proud of you,” you exclaim as you wrap your legs around his torso. he chuckles at your enthusiasm, pecking the side of your head.

once he lets you go, he shares moments with each of his family members and you walk hand in hand out of the facility.

a winning game day is always your favorite because it ensures a good mood from your boyfriend for the rest of the night.

“I can’t believe that last shot you made, you just had to rub the win in their face babe?” you jokingly question as he opens the passenger door to his truck for you.

“what can I say, im tryin to make some noise in prep for the tourney, baby. plus I really want to start getting NBA scouts’ attention.”

you watch as he rounds the front of the truck to get in.“well you got my attention, that’s for sure.” you smile at him, leaning over the center console to give him a peck on the mouth.

putting the car in drive, you guys head back towards his apartment. Drake plays through his speakers as you look out the window at your beautiful campus lit up by the moon. you’re pulled out of your trance by Rafe’s hand reaching out for your thigh, giving it a light squeeze. just like you predicted, he’s in a good mood from his win, so you might as well let him bask in it.

you’re wearing just a UNC vintage pullover that you stole from Rafe and some jean shorts, which you feel his hand working towards. biting your lip and sneaking a glance at him, you decide to unbutton the denim and slide it down your legs, revealing your lacey thong to the darkness of the truck. Rafe’s hand moves higher, grazing over the fabric of your shorts to meet the now bare skin of your hip, while his left hand controls the wheel. you let out a gasp when his fingers dip into the top of your panties, grazing your slit.

his actions are followed by a whimper from your mouth, already feeling yourself getting soaked. however, you have been turned on since you saw him in his Heel blue jersey on the court. his fingers apply pressure, finding your clit and moving in circles. your legs spread, giving him better access as he multitasks his way into giving you and orgasm. what can’t this man do?

“Rafey, inside me. please” you beg, wanting to feel his fingers.

“ya baby? want to get fucked by my fingers? huh?” he teases as he continues to maneuver the truck through the emptying streets.

“y-yes! yes, pl-“ your words are cut off my your own moan as Rafe’s middle and ring finger thrust into your entrance. he too groans at the feeling of your gummy walls around his fingers, blood rushing to his cock.

his fingers move in and out, working you open. he adjusts his hand so the heel of his palm can apply pressure to your clit while his fingers work your hole, warmth invading them. he adds a curling motion to his thrusts, finding the spot that almost always has you cumming.

“shit y/n. squeezing my fingers baby? you gonna cum?”

“please Rafe! im so close,” you moan out. band in your stomach ready to snap.

as soon as he turns the truck into the parking garage, fingers moving rapidly, you release, wetness coating his hand, your heavy breaths filling the cab. after a couple more pumps, he removes his fingers from you and slides them between his lips, collecting your juices. you turn your head to face him, hair slightly disheveled and sticking to your forehead.

“you taste so good baby,” he says, as he takes his fingers out of his mouth and tucks a misplaced piece of hair behind your ear.

leaning over to give you a needy kiss, he grasps your wrist, pulling your hand to feel his hardened cock.

“now how about we go upstairs and you give me a three celebratory rounds for that 3 pointer that impressed you so much?

let me know what you think ✨

#drew starkey #rafe cameron #rafe cameron smut #rafe obx #rafe outerbanks #rafe smut #outer banks #rafe cameron edits #rafe fanfiction #rafe fic #basketball #drew starkey smut

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tacobacoyeet · 2 months ago

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bodyguard | patrick zweig x reader

warnings: SMUT 18+, this is a blurb

It almost ends in silence.

That kind of silence that isn’t soft or thoughtful or pregnant with meaning—it’s thick, charged, bitter. The kind that fills a car when one person wants to speak and the other refuses to be heard.

Patrick’s hands are clenched on the steering wheel. Knuckles white. Jaw tighter than it needs to be. You’re staring out the window, blinking hard against the sting in your eyes. Not crying. Not yet.

The fight—if you can call it that—wasn’t loud. It never is with him. Just a deflection here, a shrug there. You asked a simple question. Something like "How are you, really?" Something like "Let me in."

And he did what he always does. Shut the door.

You almost got out when he pulled into your building’s lot. Almost left him there, sitting in the blue wash of streetlights with his hands still gripping the wheel like it’s the only thing anchoring him to this earth.

But something in you stayed.

Because even in the worst of it—even when he’s all teeth and armor—you can see the boy behind the racket. The one who’s tired of being hard all the time.

So you twist in your seat.

He’s still facing forward, and you can see it—the crack in his armor. The set of his shoulders isn’t quite as stubborn. His grip on the wheel is no longer furious, just tight. Like he’s not sure if he should let go.

And you know this version of him.

You’ve seen him at ten—spinning, sharp-tongued, manic with energy he doesn't know where to put. You’ve seen him on the court, teeth bared, eyes wild. You’ve seen him explode and implode all in the same hour.

But you’ve also seen him at zero. At nothing. The mornings he can’t get out of bed. The press days he skips and blames on jet lag when really, it’s the weight in his chest.

You know how to read his silences. The kinds that ask you to stay even when he won’t say it out loud.

You’ve never wanted to fix him. You’ve just wanted to be there. Wanted to be the one thing in his world that didn’t want anything from him.

You speak softly, like you’re talking to a wounded thing. “Patrick, I’m not trying to fix anything.”

He still doesn’t look at you.

“I just wanna know what’s going on in there,” you add, tapping lightly on the side of your head. “You don’t have to make it nice. You don’t even have to make it make sense. I just… want to know you’re here.”

Another pause. This one stretches.

He finally exhales through his nose. Barely audible.

“I don’t talk about shit like that,” he mutters. “Never have.”

You nod. “Yeah. I figured.” You shift, turning to face him fully. “But you let me be here. Every time. So either you want something real, or you don’t. And if you do... I need you to stop pretending you're alone.”

That lands. You see it in the way his fingers loosen on the steering wheel.

And then he finally looks at you.

“I don’t know how to do this,” he says.

You blink. “What, talk?”

He almost laughs, but it dies in his throat. “Yeah. That. All of it.”

“Then don’t talk,” you say. “Just let me in.”

And that’s when you move.

You lean in slowly. Not to comfort. To reach. You press your mouth to his—soft, sure, no hesitation. He responds like it hurts. Like it heals. Like he’s been waiting for permission to fall apart.

Your hand slips into his hair. His jaw slackens. The car windows fog.

It’s not a rush. Not at first.

But soon you’re climbing into his lap, straddling him, your knees bracketing his hips, the console digging into your thigh and neither of you caring. His hands settle on your waist, unsure.

“You don’t have to do anything,” you whisper against his jaw. “Just let me be here.”

And when you grind down, he gasps like he’s breaking.

You kiss him again. Deeper. Messier. Like a promise made with tongue and teeth and breath.

You press your forehead to his and say, “Let me take care of you.”

And when you rock your hips again, when his hands grip you like you’re the only real thing he’s ever held, he lets you.

For once—he lets you.

You pull back just enough to look at him. His eyes are heavy, lips parted, chest heaving. You guide him gently, tugging down the waistband of his sweats, freeing him fully. He’s already slick in your hand, the head flushed, and his breath stutters as you shift your hips.

“Can I?” you murmur.

He nods—almost frantic—and you line yourself up with shaking fingers.

When you sink down onto him, it’s slow and devastating. Your breath catches at the stretch, the fullness, the feeling of him beneath you, inside you, finally here. His hands clutch at your waist like he’s afraid you’ll disappear.

The car is too small for this, too cramped, but it doesn’t matter. Your bodies find rhythm anyway. A language made of friction and breath and everything you’ve never needed words for.

The smell of his cologne has long faded under the weight of everything else—sweat, sex, and the faintest trace of smoke from the ashtray by the gearshift. There’s a lipstick-stamped cigarette butt half-buried beneath a crumpled parking receipt. He hasn’t cleaned this car in months. It smells like late-night drives, like sweatshirts in the backseat, like every fight you’ve almost had and every kiss you didn’t mean to give.

The cracked vinyl seat beneath your knees sticks to your skin. Somewhere in the background, the faint click of the hazard light ticks like a metronome. The windows fog faster than you can clear them. The Honda rocks with every roll of your hips.

The ceiling liner droops slightly overhead. The rearview mirror is useless now, fogged over and tilted sideways from where his elbow knocked it loose.

None of it matters.

You’re the only thing that matters.

He curses when your hand returns to where your bodies meet, when your fingers circle just right. You smile, not teasing, just full of something fierce and warm and steady.

“Let me take it,” you whisper. “All of it. Just for tonight.”

His head falls back. His mouth falls open.

You keep going until he’s shaking. Until he’s saying your name like it’s the only thing left that’s his.

When he comes, you hold him there. Through it. Around it. Until he’s panting against your neck, hands still gripping your hips like they’re his last prayer.

You follow a heartbeat later. The kind of release that steals your breath, curls your toes, and makes your chest ache.

And after—you don’t move.

You just breathe. Let the sweat cool. Let the quiet settle.

You press your palm flat against his chest and feel it thudding wildly beneath your skin.

You don’t ask him to say anything. You don’t need him to explain.

You hold him the way he’s never let anyone hold him—without expectation, without question.

Like softness is a shield.

Like love can be a place to rest.

-----

tagging: @kimmyneutron@babyspiderling @queensunshinee @hanneh69 @jamespotteraliveversion @glennussy @awaywithtime @artstennisracket @artdonaldsonbabygirl @blastzachilles @jordiemeow

#a writes #ava's challengaversary #patrick zweig #challengers #patrick zweig x reader #patrick zweig smut #patrick zweig x you #patrick zweig fic #patrick zweig angst #patrick zweig fluff #challengers smut #challengers fic #Spotify

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literaryvein-reblogs · 7 months ago

Note

hey!! i really love your posts and trust me when i say this but you're practically doing a work of charity by making all these synonym lists. 😩🫶

i was wondering if you could compile monument vocabulary. vocabulary to describe the intricate and exquisite designs inside historical buildings. tysm!

Some Historical Architecture & Interior Design Vocabulary

Acanthus Leaf - A leaf decoration often used on furniture, particularly on brackets and legs.

Acroterium - Originally an ornament on the roof corners of Greek temples. In classical furniture, similar ornaments applied to the top corners of secretaries, bookcases, highboys and other furniture.

Amorini - Cupid ornaments found on Italian Renaissance furniture.

Anthemion - A honeysuckle design from classical Greek decorative motifs. Term refers to any conventional flower or leaf design.

Antique - Could be anything ranging from a piece of furniture to art. The U.S. government considers any item over 100 years old to be an antique, whereas most collectors use 50 years as a benchmark.

Apothecary Chest - A low chest with small drawers that was originally used to store herbs for cooking and medicinal purposes.

Arabesque - Decorative scroll work or other intricate ornamentation consisting of foliage, vases, leaves and fruits, or fantastic human and animal figures.

Baroque - A highly ornate decorative style that originated in Italy in the 1600's. The style is characterized by irregular curves, twisted columns, elaborate scrolls and oversize moldings. The Italian equivalent of French "rococo".

Bibliotheque-Basse - A low cupboard with shelves for books. Doors are often of glass and sometimes fitted with grilles.

Bullate - Having the surface covered with irregular and slight elevations, giving a blistered appearance.

Cabriole leg - An ornamented furniture leg with a double curve structure.

Chevron - A 'zigzag' pattern characteristic of Romanesque decoration that is often carved around pillars, arches and doorways.

Chinoiserie - A European style of design that is meant to mimic elements of East Asian art.

Console table - A freestanding table, often found in the entryway of homes, that typically serves as a space for decorative elements.

Enfilade - A series of rooms that are connected via doorways that align with one another (commonplace in grand castles, like the Palace of Versailles, or even museums).

Etagere - A freestanding or hanging set of open shelves, designed to display trinkets or other decorative objects.

Gilding - A coating with a thin layer of gold or gold-like substance.

Klismos - Ancient Greek style of chair with saber shaped legs splayed at the front and back. The back legs continue up to support a shoulder-height curved back.

Laurelling - A decorative feature using the laurel leaf motif as its basis.

Lozenge - A diamond shaped decorative panel. Term comes from the Middle English word for stone.

Niche - A recess in a wall for displaying a sculpture or other accessory.

Ormulu - A metal resembling gold. Used as mounts and decorative effects on furniture.

Ovolo - A continuous ornament in the form of an egg which generally decorates the molding called the "quarter-round". Eggs are often separated from each other by pointed darts.

Passementerie - Fancy decorative trimmings such as tassels, tiebacks and ribbon.

Régence Style - This furniture style spanned from about 1715 to 1723, when France was ruled by a regent. This style of furniture design was a transition from massive straight lines to graceful curves.

Sconces - A type of light fixture that is fastened to a wall for support.

Swan-Neck Handle - A curved handle popular in the 1700's.

Trompe l’oeil - A technique used to trick the eye into thinking that something flat, like a wall, is actually three-dimensional. This is often achieved through photorealistic painting.

Victorian - An architectural style defined by highly ornamented design and grand, sweeping facades.

Wainscoting - A type of interior wall paneling that covers the lower portion of a wall.

"Traditional" Interior Design

When talking about traditional interior design, most are referencing a design style that originated in the 18th and 19th century throughout Europe. However, it’s worth noting that other cultures have their own versions of a traditional style that may not look the same as this more Western version.

Traditional Design Elements. Though not exhaustive, a traditional interior will often make use of the following elements:

Emphasis on symmetry and order

Traditional architectural details such wainscoting and crown molding

Classic decor elements such as chandeliers and bookcases

Neutral color schemes with pops of bold colors, often in jewel tones

Upholstery and textiles tend to be subtler (cotton, velvet, or wool, for example)

Furniture pieces with traditional silhouettes, though they’re often updated with modern elements or finishes

Layered window treatments and draperies; curtain valances aren’t used often

Classic patterns such as plaids, damask, or florals

Flooring tends to make use of darker wood

Sources: 1 2 3 4 ⚜ More: Notes & References ⚜ Word Lists

Previous posts that include some related words you might find useful:

Some Architecture Vocabulary

Some European Renaissance Art Vocabulary

Some Medieval Art & Architecture Vocabulary: Part 1

Some Medieval Art & Architecture Vocabulary: Part 2

Some Roman Art Vocabulary

Thanks so much for your kind words, you're really sweet! I tried to include a wide range of terminology since you didn't specify which time period you were looking for. Do go through the sources if I wasn't able to include here what you need in your writing. Hope this helps <3

#terminology #architecture #interior design #writing reference #writeblr #dark academia #spilled ink #literature #writers on tumblr #writing prompt #writing inspiration #history #writing ideas #creative writing #writing resources

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hotvintagepoll · 1 year ago

Text

Propaganda

Jean Arthur (Mr. Smith Goes to Washington, Easy Living, The Talk of the Town)—Always found the best facial expression and the perfect line delivery, so nailed the transition from silent film to talkies (her voice is CRAZY btw- high and overly sweet but also so gravelly she's like a breakfast parfait), then went on to dominate roles in multiple genres well into her 50s. Such a great personality both onscreen and off, and to our end pulls off 'gorgeous,' 'sexy,' and 'cute' all at once (in a word: hot!)

Juanita Moore (Imitation of Life)— She was the third black actress to be nominated for Best Supporting Actress! She was also friends with James Baldwin (!) and got her other friend Marlon Brando (!!) to finance his play. She also met her husband of fifty years by nearly being hit by his bus which should be in a romcon, tbh. There's also a whole documentary about how she'd been ignored and overlooked due to Hollywood racism, so she deserves more attention!

This is round 2 of the tournament. All other polls in this bracket can be found here. Please reblog with further support of your beloved hot sexy vintage woman.

[additional propaganda submitted under the cut.]

Jean Arthur:

i had to submit every movie of hers ive seen so far because 1) shes GORGEOUS. 2) extremely gifted with comic timing and delivery and whats better than a confident beautiful woman that makes you laugh. and 3) seems to effortlessly blend wit emotion and logic in her performances in a way that sometimes is just so... it tells you as much about the other characters shes interacting with as it does her own (see this clip from mr smith)

youtube

Adorable and sultry with a voice that went from urban smartass to sounding, as director Frank Capra described it, more like tinkling bells than a voice has a right to sound

jean arthur wearing bucksin trousers and a little hat in the plainsman was fully my queer awakening. i love that woman so much. she has defined calamity jane for me. also she is adorable and heartbreaking and SMOKING HOT in deeds like everyone needs to experience her, she's everything to me

She's a chameleon, rocking any hair colour and any style, any mood and any genre. And she's got such a fine, captivating smile!

Truly amazing talking voice, like eating pop candy. Played wise cracking gals with hearts of gold. Once got arrested for trespassing because she went to console a dog that was being mistreated. Angel. Star. Baby. Winner!

Juanita Moore:

#jean arthur #juanita moore #hotvintagepoll #fuck that old woman #ladies 2 #Youtube

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tianjinwellmadescaffold · 3 months ago

Video

youtube

Console Bracket for Ringlock Scaffolding - Wellmade China - Ring System ...

#youtube #ringlock scaffolding #ringlock scaffold #ringlock system #ringlock #ringlock scaffolding parts #console bracket #scaffolding bracket #scaffold bracket #wellmade scaffold #wellmade china #wellmade

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darksturnioloqueen · 3 months ago

Text

Sadistic!Matt x Ring

**This Fic Series will NOT be for people with triggers. This Fic Series will have very descriptive moments of Sadism.**

Sadistic (Sadism - The Act Of Being Sadistic)

Deriving (getting) pleasure from inflicting (causing) pain, suffering, or humiliation on others.

Please Read At Your Own Risk.

⚠︎Trigger Warning: scared!Sadistic!Matt, FLUFF Sadistic!Matt, microphone drop. ⚠︎

Matt and you sat in the living room having a long discussion. You knew your brothers wouldn't give up in this scenario. Ultimately, there was no other choice. Matt had to meet your parents. Of course, Matt fought back and declined for various reasons, but you explained that if he didn't do it, your parents, as overbearing as they were, would call the cops or something. It would make it way worse than if he just stood in a room with them for an hour and said nothing. Which, was the plan you two came up with last night.

Matt was running late, which you found exceptionally odd for him. Cole and Elliott were waiting for him to show up so everyone could head over to your parents. The drive was roughly one hour, so it would give you and Matt more time to get your stories straight. The one good thing that provided you comfort was that your parents were usually really cool and calm. They liked just to hang around and talk, so as long as your stories and excuses matched, you knew they would believe anything.

"Looks like he pussied out." Cole scoffed.

"He is never late." You whispered, wondering why, every time something was necessary, he failed to be his usual self. The Matt that kept track of how long you had been talking down to the hour, the Matt that memorized every detail about you, the Matt that was willing to give you what you wanted, those versions of Matt were the ones you needed right now. And he couldn't even show up in general. "He'll be here." You said it more audibly for them. You made eye contact with Elliott and saw in his eyes a hint of sadness. He was always very agreeable with whoever.

"Give it up, Sis. He wasn't shit." Cole turned to walk back to the car, packed up to take them back home. Your face lit up when you saw Matt's simple little vehicle pulling up to park next to Cole's.

"He's here." You said aloud to yourself, physically feeling the relief the words brought you. Matt stepped out of the car with a book bag hanging over his shoulder. He walked directly up to you. Instead of saying anything, he looked directly into your eyes, hoping you would be able to read the words held in his irises. "It's okay." You whispered.

"Alright, let's get going," Elliott said for everyone. Matt got in the passenger seat of your car. Once the doors were shut and he knew your brothers weren't listening in, he spoke.

"I don't like this." You looked over at him. Even though his words were firm and tight, you could see they came from a place of fear.

"I know. I'd be lying if I didn't say the same, but Cole just had to open his big fat fuc —" Matt leaned across the center console and roughly gripped your jaw, pulling you in for a kiss. He was starting to find a sense of comfort in your lips. They have never lied to him. He pulled away once done, using your smile to calm his nerves. "My parents are really cool. They'll like you because I do." Matt's face stayed stoic. He had met parents before, and it never ended well.

"We are almost there." The drive was primarily silent with Matt. You weren't expecting a full-on conversation, especially given the circumstances, but if he had given you any sign that he was okay, that would have been appreciated. You parked at the end of the driveway. Matt examined the house. Large, that was the only thing that came to his mind. It was all white, looking newly painted, with no signs of dirt. "I know they are kind of show-offs sometimes." Your parents might have a little more money than regular tax bracket workers, but they never let you believe any of it came easily. "Ready?" Matt looked away from the house to look at you. He was afraid to show himself to someone. He met you. He was afraid to let someone in. He let you. He was afraid to feel real emotions again. He loved you. He was afraid to meet your parents. But he was going to, for you.

"Okay." He sighed. You couldn't help but smile. Nerves or excitement, something was brewing inside of you.

You both got out of the car, and Matt took your bag from you. He wasn't stupid. He knew the everyday couple things that parents liked. The basic chivalry they looked for in a potential partner for their children. Matt just had to not be himself. He needed to be who they would want him to be. You knew what he was doing. Pretending. Your Matt wouldn't care about grabbing a stupid bag from you. You appreciated the effort, but you secretly wanted nothing more than just to tell them everything. You were a masochist. Matt was a sadist. The bruises were not only wanted and consented, they were needed. Matt was pretending because you were. You couldn't be yourself around your family. The perfect baby sister or perfect daughter image would be ruined if they knew you liked it when Matt took his demented fantasies out on you.

"Honey!" Your mother was quick to snatch you in a hug. Cole and Elliott shimmied past to get further in the house.

"Dear, how are you?" Your father's hug was more to the point,

"Good. Nice to see you, Dad." When you pulled away, you noticed their stares sizing Matt up. "This is my boyfriend Matt." You smiled, saying it out loud. You didn't think you could get tired of hearing it.

"Nice to meet you." Your father extended his hand out. You waited to see how Matt would react. Like a normal person, he gripped his hand tightly and shook it. There you were, doing it again, assuming Matt is more than a human being just because of his sadism. Then your eyes widened a little. "Quite the grip you got there." Your father pulled his hand away. You weren't sure if that was a reference to what you were calling The Cole problem or if Matt's nerves had just kicked into overdrive.

"I'm a hugger, dear." Your mother dove into Matt, arms wrapped around him. He stood completely stiff. Matt hated hugs.

"Okay, let's all go sit." You purposely ended the hug before anyone could notice Matt's uncomfortable nature. Matt gave you a look that concerned you. He was feeling very uneasy. "We are gonna put our bags in my room!" You hollered to your parents, who made their way opposite you. The house was big enough for everyone to have their own room and still had a spare for company. Although you wanted Matt in your room, you knew he wouldn't sleep with you because of his complicated reasons. Matt followed you to your room and smirked once the door shut you two off from everyone.

"So much fucking pink." He looked around. Your bedroom at your parents was just a mini version of your home.

"You doing okay?" You loved it when he made a rude comment about your preferred style. You found it cute. But right now, you were more concerned about him. You watched as he walked around your room and looked at your belongings. Some of which were outdated. Matt was fine. He knew the part he had to play as the perfect boyfriend. He just had to be everything he wasn't.

"Fine." He was short. You knew to take his word at face value.

"Ready to go meet everyone?" You asked him. He set down the picture frame of you with your brothers to put his attention back on you. His eyes were dark.

"No." His voice was cold but not in a lustful way. His voice carried something you had never heard from him before. Nerves.

"It's okay. I'm not going to let them say anything bad." You reached out and grabbed his hand. He pulled you into him quickly and immediately started kissing you. He was nervous. Even without him saying it, you could tell. But there was one thing that always made him feel better, you. He pulled his plush lips off yours; his eyes darted all over your face. "I promise." You whispered to fill the space between you two. Matt nodded and followed you out to the kitchen. Your brothers were sitting at the bar while your mother was stirring a pot on the stove. Your father was sitting in the living room. The house had an open concept, so everyone was still connected.

"Oh, there you guys are. Beginning to think you were scared of us." Your mother smiled. Matt stood uncomfortably.

"Huh." Cole scoffed, earning a look from your mother.

"So we are just dying to hear everything. Our little girl hasn't had a boyfriend... well, ever."

"Mom!" You covered your reddening cheeks. You peeked over at Matt and found his facial expressions unchanging. Even though his demeanor didn't physically change, he felt a flutter in his stomach when your mother said that.

"So, Matt, tell us everything." She pushed. You looked at Matt. You desperately wanted to talk for him, but you knew that would only make them want to know more about him.

"We met online." For once, his short sentences, which were straight to the point, were appreciated.

"I didn't know you were looking?" Your mom looked over at you.

"Just browsing." You lied. You walked Matt over to the dinner table to sit with you.

"What do you do for work, Matt?" Your father asked without looking away from the TV.

"I'm a silent investor and partner in a tech company," Matt answered.

"Oh, you must have gone to college for that?" Your mother inquired slightly.

"Yeah. It was alright." Matt sounded like a natural to you. You watched him in awe.

"What are your hobbies?" Cole swiveled his head around to watch Matt closely. You grabbed Matt's hand and squeezed it. Your eyes widened slightly when you felt a faint squeeze back.

"I got into knife and axe throwing when I was younger." Matt's voice was slightly drier than it had been before.

"Oh, that's dangerous." Your mother started spooning the contents of the pot into bowls.

"I can be," Matt smirked at you. You beamed back at him. You were absolutely in love with Matt, fitting in with your family.

"Yeah, real dangerous." Cole scoffed and turned back around.

"Who's hungry?" Your mother smiled, holding full bowls. Dinner went normally. Everyone ate, and no one talked to Matt, which he enjoyed. After dinner, it was round two, with more questions in the living room, while you helped your mother clean the kitchen.

"He sure is cute." Your mother smirked.

"Yeah. He's perfect." The words dripped off your tongue.

"Now don't put him on a pedestal. You need to be careful." You could tell this was starting to be about what Cole said on the phone.

"I promise he's perfect for me, Mom." You looked over to see Matt sitting quietly as the other men filled the room with laughter. You smiled to yourself at his flat demeanor. That was your Matt.

"Cole told us you might be... in some sort of trouble." She whispered. You rolled your eyes. Partially annoyed, and partially to try and show her how unserious this conversation needed to be.

"He saw a bruise from a fall I had. Matt would never put his hands on me." You bit your lip, thinking about his hands being rough with you.

"He seems quiet. Good fit for you." You saw Matt moving and liked that he was talking. Little did you know what he was talking about.

"I like you, Matt. You seem like a stand-up guy." Your father admitted. Cole was resting back on the couch, watching Matt lie through his teeth.

"I like you too, sir," Matt smirked, knowing he was winning him over. Matt didn't like getting close to families. However, that didn't mean he couldn't manipulate them as needed. "Actually, there's something I've been wanting to ask you, if that would be alright?" Matt sparked his interest.

"Of course." He leaned forward a little.

"I would like your permission -"

"No fucking way." Cole stood up and yelled. That caught your and your mother's attention.

"Cole, calm down." You saw your father stand up. Matt also stood up.

"You have the nerve to even ask?" Cole was becoming hot-headed.

"Son, calm down." Your father raised his voice. You walked over to see what was going on. Primarily, you wanted to ensure Matt remained in your parents' good graces.

"Dad, he hits her." Elliott stood as a human barrier between Matt and Cole. With Cole ready to lunge.

"What?" Your father looked at you concerned.

"No, he doesn't." You jumped in to defend Matt. You were already upset, wondering how the evening could be going so well, and then it suddenly crashed.

"Look at her bruises." Cole pointed. "Lift your shirt." He demanded. Everyone looked at you, waiting to see your next move.

"No." You dug your foot into the floor to stand your ground towards Cole.

"I don't think this is necessary." Your mother jumped in. "It's late. We should all -"

"How can you all act like this isn't a problem?" Cole was on fire.

"I would never hurt her on purpose." Matt lied. You knew what he meant, though.

"See! On purpose." Cole mocked. "So you admit you hurt her." Cole caught the slip-up. You were getting tired of everyone yelling. It was making you cave in. Your lungs, your head, your emotions, everything was crashing inward until you couldn't take it anymore.

"Matt's a sadist!" You yelled, silencing everyone. Matt looked at you, shocked. "Matt's a sadist and I'm... I'm a masochist." You felt terrible only throwing him under the line of fire, so you jumped to. "He hurts me because I like it." Saying this out loud sounded diabolical to you.

"He, he hurts you?" Your mother gasped.

"Only because I ask him to." You wanted it to be clear.

"So, what Cole is saying is true?" Your father asked.

"Sort of. I want it. I want him. Matt is perfect for me. I know it's hard to understand, but we are perfect together."

"That's how you feel, Little Sis?" Elliott's voice was soft.

"I am in love with him." You whispered, smiling at El. He always had your back.

"Then, Matt, you have my permission," Elliott smirked, looking between the two of you, leaving you lost. You looked at Matt for an explanation. He stood like a stone.

"What's family without a little drama?" Your dad chuckled and shook Matt's hand. "You have my permission, Son." You saw the corner of Matt's mouth lift slightly.

"Nope. Never." Cole still held disgust for Matt. Regardless of consent, in his eyes, you should never leave bruises on a woman—especially his little sister. Matt turned to you and looked you in the eyes.

"Matt, what -"

"Ah." Your mother gasped. She knew what was coming.

"You know I don't like words." Matt started. You smiled softly, looking deep into his eyes, searching for a clue as to what was happening. "So all I know I can say is, Inamorata." Your heart lurched. "Will you accept this as a promise to always stay?" Matt opened a tiny box in front of your chest. Looking down at the sparkly pink bow, which refracted the light around it, you felt your eyes well up with tears. You looked up at him, speechless.

"Yes." Your heart pounded in your chest, full of raw emotion. You were in love with Matt, and being with anyone else had stopped making sense in your mind a long time ago. The truth was, even without any type of material declaration of your love for him, you were always going to stay.

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