#here's hoping they will write a mail instead

[strang3lov3]

Chevelle

Summary- (joel miller x virgin!reader) Joel figures out that you’re the one who hit his baby, his precious 1964 Chevrolet Chevelle. He needs you to make it right, but he doesn’t want your money ❤️‍🔥🍆 (5k words)

Tags- MDNI hot girls can’t drive, implied age gap, virgin!reader, we're calling him tender dark!joel, soft!dom joel, tender dubcon (power imbalance, joel solicits sex from reader, no explicit consent but reader is into it) reader has a luscious bush, Joel walks you through handjobs, blowjobs, fingering, oral, unprotected piv, creampie, come eating, loss of virginity. Joel is clothed and reader is not.

A/N- Writing this is how I spent my spring break. Hope you love it 🩵 Thank you @noxturnalpascal for all of your help editing and your encouragement.

Based on mine and @beefrobeefcal shared prompt where we asked, "What would happen if reader damaged Joel’s vehicle?” Her fic is here and it’s one of my favorite things I’ve read!! Kiki has such a beautiful voice in her writing and I love all the details she adds to her fics.

Pawn shop by @toxicanonymity came to mind when I wrote this story and was a source of inspiration. Also worth a read, I have nothing but love for Tox’s writing 🩷

It’s late when you get off your shift at Tony’s, the shitty Italian restaurant you’ve been working at for far too long. It doesn’t pay much and you’ve considered working a new job to save up and move out of your brother’s house, but you’ve been putting that idea off for a variety of reasons. One of them being Joel. 

Joel’s your neighbor, a sexy, older man you’ve got a certain fondness for. His hair used to be more brown but it’s grayer now, same with the scruff on his face. He’s got sparkling, chocolatey eyes and a sharp nose set above a thick, downturned mustache. He always looks a little dirty when you see him, with dirt caked into his forehead wrinkles and grease smeared along his temple or his jaw. He’s always either fresh off a contracting job or working on his car. He’s got this cute little Chevy he spends his nights and weekends with, a 1964 Chevrolet Chevelle, baby blue.

Joel was one of the first people to welcome you to the neighborhood and even helped you move your stuff into your brother’s house, though helping you implies he let you do any work. Joel offered you a pop from his fridge and then took over entirely, putting both himself and your brother to work moving all of your stuff in. You didn’t lift a finger that day. 

-

You can’t seem to pull your eyes from the little green glowing letters on your dash, watching letters and numbers on the screen roll on by. 12:37 A.M. 101.9. Paper Bag - Fiona Apple.  You’re so out of it. You yawn and blink a couple of times, focusing back on the narrow roads of your neighborhood. It’s so poorly lit over here, and it doesn’t help that one of your headlights is out. Joel’s been bugging you to let him fix that, he says it’ll only take five minutes.

You turn onto your street and bam. You’re wide awake now. You just hit something. 

You hit Joel’s car. Joel’s fucking car. What the fuck is it doing on the street? He always has it safely kept in his garage. Oh dear god, the panic is setting in. This is Joel’s baby. You just hit his baby, his pride and joy. 

You can’t even bring yourself to assess the damage you’ve inflicted upon his dear Chevy. Probably dented to shit, but you don’t really wanna know. Instead, you just pull your foot off the brake, press your remote control garage door opener, then pull into your garage as you press your lips together tightly. You’re surprised and relieved to find that there’s hardly a scratch on your own car. Joel won’t know. He won’t.

The next morning, you’re sipping on your coffee as you check your mailbox. Joel’s outside his house, loading up his work truck with some tools and supplies. He waves to you and you wave back, a small stack of mail in your hand. 

“Whose mail you got today, sweetheart?” he calls to you. 

You check the names on some of the letters. “Davidsons’ and Pierces’,” you answer through a chuckle. Joel rolls his eyes and laughs. The incompetent mailman is a running joke amongst yourself, Joel, and your other neighbors. He never seems to deliver anything to the right address, so you and your neighbors are often hand delivering each other your misplaced mail.

You laugh with Joel until you notice his smile disappear. He’s narrowing his eyes on his Chevy. Your heart drops as he steps closer to the vehicle, then pinches his nose in frustration. Fuck. Joel stomps back to his work truck, haphazardly tosses something in the bed and then slams the tailgate. Yeah, he’s fucking pissed. Your neck and your face heat in shame as you quickly run back inside.

-

In the two weeks since Joel’s car was hit, he’s been working to repair it tirelessly. He’s ordered a new tail light, since whoever hit his car shattered it and he’s spent a pretty penny ordering the exact shade of baby blue paint to touch up all of the scratches. Joel only trusts himself to touch his car, but the situation necessitates that he’ll have to take it in to a local repair shop to get the dents out. Fucking fantastic. 

When Joel gets off work tonight, he notices he’s got some packages on his doorstep, hoping it’s the shit he ordered for his car. He’ll open them shortly, but he first notices that one of the packages is addressed to you. Go figure, he thinks, chuckling to himself. He walks the package over to your house, noticing your car is parked outside of the driveway. And it’s backed in too, which is odd. Joel assumes your car must’ve been blocking your brother’s, so he probably played musical chairs with your cars to get his out and then backed yours up onto the driveway. You never back your own car in the driveway, and Joel’s pretty sure it’s because you don’t know how. You probably can’t parallel park, either. He’ll have to show you how to do that sometime.

What’s also new is a bit of baby blue paint on your red Honda Civic’s exterior, right by your headlight, the same headlight he’s been nagging you to let him fix. Joel bites the inside of his cheek. Interesting. He knocks on your door, package in hand, but he’s met with no answer. No biggie. He leaves the package on your porch and goes back to your car, inspecting the paint once more. He scoffs in astonishment and walks home. Unbelievable. 

-

The next evening, you check your mailbox after forgetting to do so earlier. As always, you never have just your own mail. This time you’ve got Joel’s. You walk it over to Joel’s house with the intention of dropping it off on his porch and going back home, not wanting to bother him as he works on his Chevy but his whistle startles you. “Hey you,” he says. “C’mere.”

“O-oh,” you stutter. “I’m just dropping off your–”

“Yeah, I know. Just c’mere a minute,” Joel says. “Got a fuckin’ bone t’pick with you.”

Your palms are beginning to sweat. He doesn’t know anything. Maybe he just wants some company while he works on his car, it wouldn’t be the first time. But still, there’s something about his tone. You step off of his porch and cut through his lawn to get to his garage. Once inside, you help yourself to a root beer from his refrigerator. Something cold and fizzy and sweet to help you calm your nerves.“Oh, sure, help yourself,” Joel mumbles. He notices your fingers slipping off the tab of the pop can and pulls it from your hands, then opens it for you. He’s wearing a stained Prince and the Revolution t-shirt and a slightly too tight pair of jeans that squeeze his ass just so. His garage is decorated with old license plates, posters, other odds and ends. 

“Thank you,” you whisper. 

Joel says nothing as he walks to his work bench. He pulls a lightbulb out of a cardboard box and waves it in your direction, he’s only a couple of feet from you. “Ordered the wrong bulb,” he tells you. 

You can only nod. You think about maybe making a joke about the mailman screwing it up somehow, but you bite your tongue. You don’t trust yourself not to stutter right now.

“M’sure you saw, my baby here’s all banged up,” Joel puts the bulb back in the box and leans against his work bench, facing you. “Happened a couple weeks ago.”

“Mm,” you hum.

“Hit and run, can you believe that?” 

“No, I can’t. That-that’s terrible.”

“I know it is. And here I thought we had a nice neighborhood…” he trails off before speaking again, “You think you know someone, huh.” 

Someone. So he has someone in mind? “Yeah, it’s terrible…what happened to your car. Can’t believe someone would uh…would do that, knowing how you, your car…yeah. Terrible.”

Joel stares at you for a minute before speaking again, taking note of how you can’t seem to hold eye contact with him. He steps closer to you.

“You wouldn’t know a thing about it, right?”

“Yes,” you answer, quickly realizing your word mishap when Joel raises his eyebrows. “No, yeah. I don’t know–yeah, nothing,” you sip your root beer before fidgeting with the pop tab and shifting your weight from one foot to the other. 

Joel notices. “Squirmin’ an awful lot over there, sweetheart. You got something you wanna tell me?” You shake your head, still playing with the tab on the pop can. Joel removes it from your hand, his fingers gracing over yours before placing it on the workbench. He’s moving closer to you now, matching your pace as you walk backward until the back of your legs hit his car. You gasp, he stands so tall and imposing in front of you. “Easy,” he warns. “You be careful with her.”

“Yeah, I know. Always,” you reply. Your voice is beginning to shake. 

Joel hums at your response. “Not always, though, sweetheart. Think you were pretty careless with my baby a couple weeks ago.” 

The familiar pressure behind your eyes is beginning to build as tears are pricking your waterline, “I don’t know what–”

“Awh, don’t do that. Don’t lie t’me.” 

 The tears spill over. You’re caught. You don’t know how Joel figured out what you did, but he did. “You’ve got a guilty conscience, dontcha?”

You nod before you can speak. “I’m so sorry,” you cry. Sobs begin to wrack your body, your tears now flowing freely. You’re so guilty. You should’ve told Joel what happened that night. It was an accident, and he might’ve been mad, but you’ve probably made it worse for yourself with your dishonesty. “I’m so sorry, Joel, it was late and I was so tired–”

Joel pulls you in a tight embrace, stroking your back with his fingertips. “Shhh, I know. I know,” he whispers in your ear,  “S’okay, sweet girl.” 

“It was so…” you try to explain, choking on your sobs and your sniffles. “So late and d-dark and I wasn’t paying attention.”

“I know. Quit your cryin’, s’gonna be fine,” Joel whispers. He pulls away from you, looking at you with those deep brown eyes of his as he wipes the tears from your face with his thumbs. Know you’ll make it up to me.”

“I will,” you agree quickly. “I’ll pick up some more shifts, Joel, and I’ll save and–”

“Oh, no. Not that. Save your money,” he tells you earnestly. “Somethin’ else,” Your eyes follow Joel when he leaves you for a moment to flip a switch on the wall of his garage. Something in the air changes then, a thick, heavy feeling between you both when he makes his way back to you. “Use your head, sweetheart. How are we gonna make it right?”

Your mouth is dry, your tongue swollen as you pick up what Joel’s putting down. “Let me give ya a hint,” Joel grunts, sucking in his gut slightly as he unbuttons his jeans. He wears no underwear, a thatch of coarse hair littering his skin is what you see when he pulls down his zipper. He grips your wrist and shoves your hand beneath the denim where you feel his package, already half hard. It’s warmer, thicker than you would expect. He feels heavy in your palm, his pubic hair wiry and scratchy against your knuckles. 

He doesn’t tilt his head in confusion at your hesitancy. “Don’t know what to do with all this, do ya?”

You shake your head no. “I’ve never…with anyone, before.”

“S’alright. I’ll walk ya through it all,” Joel says, seemingly unsurprised at the revelation. With your hand still on his cock, Joel pulls himself out of his jeans entirely. He’s harder now. “Like this,” he instructs, bringing your hand to his mouth and spitting in it. A pang of arousal fills your gut at the action. He pushes your hand lower and guides you to wrap your hand around his cock. It feels heavy, warm to the touch, sticky with his sweat and his saliva. Rock hard, but smooth like satin. You admire him, his blushed tip, the prominent veins on his shaft. 

Your breath hitches as Joel takes control, using his strong, weathered hand to guide your own to massage his cock. “You got it,” he encourages, sensing your rigidity. “Tighter,” he instructs, squeezing his hand around yours. You’re slow to gain confidence but he’s patient, doing the work himself for now. “You move your hand all the way up, all the way down my cock,” he tells you. 

You nod in understanding. Joel drops his hand but yours stays stroking his member. He sighs and tilts his head backward as you focus on the task at hand. Without the pressure of intense eye contact, you take the opportunity to admire him, the way his Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows, the small drops of sweat rolling down his throat. You’re shy when he smiles at you, quickly averting your attention from him and to his cock, watching the way it twitches beneath your hand, where a little bead of precum forms. Experimentally, you swipe your thumb over the tip. “That’s it,” he whispers, stroking your cheek with the back of his hand. He ruts his hips into your hips, “Doin’ just fine.”

You stroke his cock like this for a while, gaining confidence in yourself until he stops you suddenly.

 “Is that it?” 

“Is that it,” Joel mocks with a feigned pout. “No, hon. You banged up my baby pretty good. We ain’t quite square yet.”

His leaking cock bounces against his tummy as he approaches his work bench. Your heart pounds as you can’t quite see what he’s reaching for. “Know it’s new to ya,” he says.  “Just listen to me, s’all you gotta do.”

Joel returns to you with a dirty rag in his hand and lays it on the concrete ground, then reaches for your face. He pulls your bottom lip down and lets it go to watch it bounce back up. “Knees,” he whispers, gently pushing you by your shoulders to the ground. The rag he laid on the concrete for your knees is a sweet touch, all things considered. His cock is inches away from your face as he holds it between his thumb, middle, and forefingers. He presses himself to your lips, encouraging you to open your mouth. “Give it a taste,” he instructs you. “An’ you can kiss it too, if you’re feelin’ amorous.” 

You part your lips and tentatively lick the weeping slit of his thick head just once. After a moment, taking in the saltiness of his precome, you lick him a couple more times, gaining confidence quicker than you did using just your spit soaked hand on him. Bigger stripes now, using more pressure. Like Joel advised, you kiss his cock a couple times, each kiss sloppier than the last before swirling your tongue around the tip. You’re learning it all, the softness of his skin, his musky, heady taste. 

“Give me your hand,” Joel says. “Goes right here,” He wraps your hand around the base of his cock, same as before. He places one of his hands on your head, guiding you closer to him, encouraging you to take him deeper now. You do as such, sputtering and choking when you get overzealous and take him too quickly.

Joel chuckles, “Not all at once, sweetheart. Go slow. Try it again.” This time, Joel controls the pace at which you take him. He pushes himself into your mouth and senses when it becomes too much, pauses for you. He pulls his hips back, then rocks back into your mouth, building a slow, shallow pace for you to get used to. 

He’s pushing his cock deeper into your mouth. His tip teases the back of your throat as he whispers, “Little more. Be brave,” You gaze up at him, searching his eyes for some sort of approval. He nods with his brows furrowed. “Do it for me, hon.”

You allow him to fuck himself deeper in your mouth now, your eyes pricking with tears as you gag and sputter on his cock. This time, Joel doesn’t stop himself. He’s grunting, groaning, savoring the warmth of your wet, soft mouth. “So good,” he tells you before tapping your hand, reminding you to put it to use.

What you can’t reach with your mouth, you massage with your hand as you cup his balls with your other. You and Joel work in tandem, him drawing in and out of your mouth as you bob your head and flick your tongue against his shaft. Your jaw is sore with the newness of it all, and just as you’re becoming used to the thickness of his cock between your lips and on your tongue, he pauses. “M’gonna stop you now,” Joel mumbles as he pulls out of your mouth, his eyes focused on your swollen lips and how the string of saliva connected from them to his cock breaks. “S’your turn.”

“My turn?”

“Mhm. It’s etiquette, hon,” Joel says with a grunt, lifting you to your feet. He reaches between your bodies and unbuttons your pants, pushing both them and your underwear down your legs. “Always return the favor.” Joel lifts you slightly, sitting your bare ass on the hood of his car, then pulls your pants off your legs the rest of the way. “Arms up,” he tells you. He lifts your shirt off of your body, unhooks your bra and lets it fall to your lap. You’ve never been so vulnerable, so exposed in front of someone before.  Instinctively, you cover your chest with your arms and cross your legs. 

“You’re shy,” he whispers. Joel drapes your clothing over his shoulder before reaching for your arms, removing them from your chest and placing them on either side of your body. “Stay like this,” He holds your knees next, uncrossing your legs and spreading them wide for his view. 

Joel takes in your body and admires your wet cunt, how your thick curls frame it beautifully. A shiver goes down your spine as his eyes scan the rest of your body before he holds intense eye contact with you as he folds your clothes, placing them in a neat pile next to you on his car. You watch his chest rise and fall with steady breaths as he drops to his knees, situating himself between your thighs.

He presses a sloppy kiss against your inner knee, then another on your other leg. He kisses his way up your inner thigh, nipping at your flesh and soothing the marks with his tongue. He holds your legs firmly apart, knowing your instinct is to shut them when he reaches your cunt, his hot breath fanning over your center. “Wider,” he whispers, “I gotcha.”

The once cool metal of Joel’s car is now hot and slick under your sweaty, trembling palms. Your pulse beats as you look up at the garage ceiling, lacking the courage to look at Joel between your thighs. “Relax for me,” he tells you. You try. 

You gasp when he finally begins exploring you, first his thumb parting open your folds. Adding a couple more digits, he hums in satisfaction as he finds you’re already wet, your slick glistening on his fingers. He dips one of those fingers inside of you slowly, watching how you react to his touch. You twitch and fight to keep yourself still and silent as he adds a second finger, curling it rhythmically and stroking that sweet spot inside you. 

“Oh, god,” you moan as he dives into your cunt, the soft and warm, private place between your thighs, his mouth now joining where his fingers touch. His tongue is hot and wet as he drags it through your sex, circling your clit with it. “Joel, please.”

Joel’s satisfied as he hears sounds of pleasure fall from your lips, feeling your hips bucking and grinding gently against his mouth. He sucks one fold, nips at the other as he curls his fingers inside you rhythmically. With the hand that’s not teasing your pussy, he digs his fingers into the soft flesh of your thigh. “Quit squirmin’ on my car,” he warns with a firm squeeze to your thigh, hard enough to bruise you. “Ya tryin’ to scratch her again?”

His wiry stubble drags across your skin, scratching gently against the inside of your thighs. You can feel it building up quickly, that hot, sparkling feeling deep in your core as he works you, sucks your clit between his lips. 

“Please,” you cry, the only word you can form at the moment. 

“I know, hon,” he murmurs, escalating his efforts on your pussy. Sucking, licking, curling his fingers harder. He works you through your orgasm, feeling you gush against his mouth, your arousal dripping down his fingers and pooling into the palm of his hand. Your hands fly to his scalp, twitching and jerking from the sensitivity with your fingers tugging on his curls when he licks a stripe up the seam of your cunt. 

Joel pulls away from your center with a satisfied grin, lips shiny, his facial hair damp. He rises, standing above you, and sloppily kisses your lips. You’ve never tasted your own arousal before. His strong hands find your ass cheeks, pulling you closer to where he wants you.

From there, you gasp when he slides his cock through your slick folds, rubbing thick head against your sensitive clit and watches how you react to his touch. “What do you think I’m doin’ to ya next?”

“Joel,” you whimper, your hips chasing his movements, following where his cock teases your cunt. 

“Yeah, you know what I’m doin,” he purrs. “Crossin’ it all off your list tonight.”

You tense when he notches just the head of his cock in your pussy, reaching for his arm, his shoulder, any part of him you can hold. 

“Know you’re nervous,” he says softly, rubbing circles into your thighs. “But s’just me an’ you here. Wider, hon. Spread your legs for me.”

You nod quickly, following suit and spreading your legs to accommodate him. “Like this?”

“Yeah, like that. S’perfect, hon, that’s all I need from you. C’mere,” Joel adjusts his hold on you before inching his cock into you a bit more. You’re so tight, squeezing him hard and whining through the stretch as he pushes into you further, the gradual slide inside your body causing him to grunt quietly. “Relax for me,” he groans through a strained breath, parting your insides as he’s sheathed himself inside you fully now. “Bite me f’ya need to, sweetheart. It’ll be okay. You’ll get used to it.”

It aches, but the pain dulls as Joel lets you get used to the feeling, the newness of his cock inside you. He holds you close and you take advantage of his suggestion, biting softly into the flesh of his neck, tasting the saltiness of his skin as you whimper quietly. Joel groans, his eyebrows furrowing together. “Shh,” he hushes, “You’re okay, hon. You’re doin’ alright.”

Joel slowly pulls out of you and fills you up again. “That’s it, sweetheart,” he praises as you tilt your hips, opening yourself to accept more of him. You’re humming into his neck as his cock recedes and then pushes in once more. “Eyes on me now. There it is, easy. Easy.”

You do as instructed, pulling your face away from him to meet his gaze. His sparkling brown eyes stay on yours as he pulls out of you, pushing into you slowly, deliberately. You hold onto his neck, his broad shoulders, clutching the fabric of his sweat dampened shirt as he builds a steady pace now. He holds you close to his body, one of his hands traveling up your body and groping your bouncing breasts, teasing your sensitive nipples.

“You just follow my lead,” Joel says, fucking you faster now. His fingers are pressed firmly into your waist now as he rolls his hips against yours. The pain is gone now, dissipated with his continued languid thrusts into you. You feel so full, so satisfied with his thick cock inside you, massaging your insides.

He fucks you steadily but gently, maintaining a quick rhythm. You didn’t know sex could make you feel this way, so much pleasure.  You’re moaning freely, overwhelmed with emotion, tears flowing freely down your cheeks. God, you love it, and it’s nothing but pure pleasure. 

Joel’s not oblivious to your enjoyment. He’s watching you, your face contorting, he’s listening to your moans and your cries, feeling you shiver and twitch beneath his touch and how it’s all because of him, all of your pleasure at the hands of Joel and only ever Joel. He feels a sort of carnal sense of power over this, the effect his touch has on you. You’re soft, so soft and all for him, your flesh for his hands and his teeth alone to squeeze, dig into, to bite on. 

You reach for his arm and guide his hand to your center, pressing his fingers against your clit as that familiar tightness in your gut begins to build once more. “Please,” you beg. 

“Thought this was supposed to be a deal for me. Didn’t need to hit my car f’ya needed me like this,” he taunts, laughing breathlessly. But Joel obliges, of course he obliges you. He moves his calloused fingertips in circles over your clit, coaxing out your release. “Takin’ me so good, sweetheart. Look at you, m’gonna make you come again. Makin’ out like a fuckin’ bandit, aren’t you?”

Indeed you are. It’s not long before you’re coming for him. With his ministrations on your clit, his thrusts now faster, harder, deeper, you’re coming undone for him as his name pours from your lips, long and slow like honey. With your lips parted open, you’re twitching and shuddering against him as you watch his face, letting yourself go. You whimper and moan, and your release is volcanic in the way it washes over your body so fiercely. Heavy, vivid waves of pleasure washing over you the way lava rolls down the earth. Slow, fiery, intense.

Your pulsing cunt milks Joel’s own climax, his orgasm crashing through him in such a way that he loses focus on you. His eyes screwed shut, the noises he’s making louder than he intended–what starts as a grunt turns into a moan, long and libertine as he fucks you harder than he probably should as you whimper in overstimulation. His thrusts turn harder and frenzied as he milks himself with your cunt, spurting hot ropes of his come inside you. You take everything he gives you, feeling so warm and full of his spend. 

His movements then begin to ease, slowing down some more until he eventually stills inside of you. He takes the quiet moment to check on you, holding your face in his hands as he makes sure you’re okay. Your chest heaves as he wipes your tears, but you silently nod, reassuring him that you’re alright.

With a soft grunt, he pulls out of you. He watches how your combined arousal spills on the baby blue paint of his Chevelle, then uses his thumb to push a bit of his escaped come back inside you. Such a lewd action from the man. 

Joel helps you to your feet, steadying you as you stand on shaky legs. He reaches for your clothes from the hood of his car, helping you dress yourself. “Didn’t want ‘em to get dirty,” he explains. “Everything’s covered in fuckin’ dirt and grease in here.”

“Thank you,” you smile shyly. Joel opens the garage door, the once peachy and blue sky now inky black. You didn’t realize how much time had passed. You take off back to your house, but Joel grips your bicep before you can step any further. 

 “Nuh uh,” he tuts. “Ya already hit my car, hon, you don’t wanna leave your mess on the hood now too, do ya?” Joel gestures to your combined arousal on the hood of his Chevelle, swipes his pointer finger through the mess and pushes it between your lips. Your brows furrow at the taste, that salty, heady flavor you’ve never tasted before now. “Use your tongue, sweetheart.”

“You want me…”

“Lick it up,” he instructs in a quiet voice. Joel figured he might’ve let you off too easy, seeing as how you came twice–once on his tongue and once on his cock when this was all supposed to be for him. He bends you over the hood of his car, groping your ass as he leans over your shoulder to inspect your work, making sure it’s a job well done. “Good girl,” he praises, watching you lick his car clean. When you’re done, he kisses you softly.

He walks you home, dropping you off on your doorstep. You’re not quite sure what to say, whether you should apologize again, thank him, say goodnight. Joel fills the silence for you. “Gonna teach you how to drive right one of these days. Keep you out of another mess like this one, hm?” he smirks as he kisses your cheek. “Goodnight, hon.”

If you enjoyed, please reblog, leave me a comment, and/or send an ask 🩷 your words mean the world to me and your interaction keeps me motivated to write. Love you all <3

From now on I’ll be sharing cat pics at the end of my fics. Hope you don’t mind 🐈‍⬛😻

[youunravelme]

this is how you fall in love

author's note: let it be known, i've never been to jfk airport, and it probably shows. sue me. also sorry this took SO FUCKING LONG to write. it lowkey put me in a writing slump because it's just a monster but i hope you can forgive me. this fic is literally 18,952 words long, so i apologize in advance.

pairing: mat barzal x reader

summary: when confronted with the idea of going home without a date, you lie and say you have a boyfriend. which would be fine, except you haven't dated anyone seriously in a year. so instead of facing the ridicule of your family, you ask mat.

warnings: cursing (this is a given at this point), mean girl behavior?

you weren't quite sure why you said it.

actually.

scratch that.

you were 1000 percent sure why you said it.

you could not, would not be the family embarrassment yet again.

if you got one more wedding invitation in the mail, you were going to scream. you were happy for all your college friends, really, you were, but it was the presence of this one particular wedding invitation from your cousin angela that had you seething.

mainly because it was accompanied by a phone call from your mother.

"i told angela that she didn't need to put a plus one down for you, but she insisted. so don't feel bad if you don't have someone, sweetheart. plenty of people are still single at your age."

maybe it was the irritation at your mother's condescension, or the exhaustion from being the butt of every family joke for the past five years, that had you saying something you wish you could take back.

"i do have someone, mom!"

her scoff resonated through the speaker. "honey, you don't have to lie--"

"i'm not lying! it's mat!"

the pause that followed your white lie was louder than the new york city streets just outside your apartment.

"your friend, mat? you told me you'd never see him that way!" she accused.

you shrugged, despite her not seeing you. and thank goodness for that, she'd immediately know you were lying if she could see your face. "something just clicked."

"how long has this been going on?"

"a few months."

"and you never told us?"

"we wanted to keep it lowkey until we knew this was something real."

your mom hummed but seemed appeased. "well, i can't wait to meet him. you are coming down a week early, right?"

in hindsight, you should've told mat immediately instead of postponing it until two weeks before you had to leave. but he was out of town for games, then you had a work trip, and then time slipped away from you.

but there was nothing you and a tub of bubblegum ice cream couldn't accomplish together.

at least in matters of mathew barzal.

he answered the door a few seconds after you knocked. a smile overtook his face until his eyes dropped down to the ice cream in your hands.

"what do you need?" he asked with a quirked brow.

"who says i need something?" you blinked in what you hoped was an innocent manner.

mat sighed and opened the door wide enough for you to come in. "because you have ice cream, and you showed up at my door unannounced." but he took the ice cream from your hands anyway. "how'd you even know i was home?"

you shrugged and plopped onto his couch. "i checked your location."

mat blinked. "you have my location? since when?"

you rolled your eyes. "you make me sound like a stalker, you made me share my location with you when i was out drinking with my coworkers and i demanded to have yours as well."

you didn't get to see mat's face because he was walking into his kitchen to put the ice cream away.

"so why are you here?" he asked once he returned.

"can't i just come over and visit my best friend?"

mat blinked. "no. you want something. what is it?"

you threw yourself back into the couch cushions and groaned, tossing an arm over your eyes. "you're not allowed to judge me."

"well that doesn't sound fun."

"mat, i'm serious, okay? i got myself into some shit and you're the only one i trust to help me out."

you felt the couch cushions sink next to you. a hand removed your arm from your face. "are you safe?" he asked. "are you in trouble? do we need to get the police involved?"

you looked at the concern on his face and sat up immediately. "no! no no no no no! it's not like that, i just happened to lie to my mom and need your help."

"why would you need my help to lie to your mom? you're not making any sense."

you took a deep breath and squeezed your eyes shut. "i told my mom we were dating so i had someone to bring to my cousin's wedding."

a pause, followed by mat's obnoxious laughter.

"you told your mom we're dating?" he choked out between cackles. "how did you manage not to vomit after saying that?"

you rolled your eyes at his barbs. "you were the first person to come to mind! what else should i have done?"

"jeez i don't know, told the truth?"

you flopped back onto the couch again. "no, mat, you don't understand. you didn't hear how she was talking to me! 'plenty of people are still single at your age!' i mean the gall of that woman!"

mat laughed again. "'gall?'"

"yes, mat, some of us use words bigger than a fifth grader's vocabulary."

"careful, that's no way to talk to your boyfriend, now is it?"

you scoffed. "boyfriend? are you--" then it hit you. "you'll do it? you'll be the fake love of my life?" you jumped off the couch.

mat smiled and leaned back into the cushions. "ask nicely."

you rolled your eyes but a smile was already pulling at your lips. "mathew michael paul barzal, will you please be my boyfriend?"

he crossed his hands behind his head and smirked. "calm down, you don't have to beg."

"i would throw something at you, but you're already doing me such a huge favor."

"you owe me one," he smirked.

oh, you'd owe him big.

one week till going home

"okay, so how did we meet?" you and mat were seated at a booth in a coffee shop the both of you liked to frequent.

"no need to reinvent the wheel," he said. "let's just tell them the truth."

"that we met at a bar through mutual friends? that's so unromantic!"

mat rolled his eyes. "we're not a fucking rom com, sweetheart. we're lying to your family and being as honest as possible makes the lying look more convincing."

you sighed and sat back in your seat. honestly, you had no reason to be frustrated. mat was doing you a favor, not the other way around. and with it being the offseason, it wasn't lost on you how much mat was giving up to play house with you. he could be visiting his own family instead of lying to yours.

yet here he was, sitting across from you with his disgusting black coffee.

you must've been staring at his cup because he snapped his fingers in your face. "what? what're you staring at?"

your face twisted in disgust. "can't believe you like that shit. no cream or sugar?"

mat eyed the frappuccino nestled in your hands. "i'm sorry, i didn't realize milkshakes qualify as coffee nowadays."

"you're just mad that my drink tastes good."

mat rolled his eyes. "keep telling yourself that."

you looked down at your phone at your notes app agenda. you deleted the intricate backstory bullet point and moved onto bullet point number two.

"okay, how long have we been dating?"

mat blinked. "you're the liar, you tell me."

god, why were you friends with him in the first place?

"i told my mom we've been together for a few months but i'm not sure what constitutes a few."

mat shrugged. "let's say we got together around the time of my injury when you nursed me back to health and realized how handsome i was."

you rolled your eyes, but wrote it down in your notes app anyway. "okay so where was our first date?"

"am i the one who has to answer all of these questions? who says we even need all of this? it's not like they're gonna lock us in a room and interrogate us separately."

"my brother would say otherwise." mat gestured for you to go on. "when we met his girlfriend, my family immediately separated them so they could bombard them with questions. but since everyone will be focused on my cousin's wedding, we should be good."

"who should i be worried about?"

you thought for a moment, in your opinion, your entire family was a concern in terms of introducing them to mat.

there was your brother, who could be an ass in a heartbeat; though, when you thought about it, he'd probably just leave the two of you alone.

your dad and mom would probably ask a few questions. your grandmother would probably be too busy trying to stuff her cooking down his throat to really pose a problem.

if you were being honest, you were concerned about your cousin, angela.

she wasn't what you would call a "girl's girl." throughout your childhood, it was like she was competing against you in a competition you didn't want to be in. who had the bigger birthday, the most friends, the most boyfriends, the bigger house, the better car, the better college.

it used to bother you more when you were younger. the way she'd flirt with your boyfriends or bribe your friends to hang out with her. it was made worse by the enabling of your parents and aunt.

"just keep an eye out for angela," was all you said.

mat's brow furrowed. "your cousin? why?"

you'd never fully told him about your less than perfect relationship with her, but considering the two of you were in a public setting and he wasn't your therapist? you kept that information to yourself and just shrugged.

"we don't have the best relationship."

mat seemed to understand you didn't want to speak on it anymore so he nodded and gestured to your phone. "is your phone ready to be seen by your family?"

"i'm sorry, what? why would my family go through my phone?"

"they'll at least want to see that i'm your lock screen, you're mine, after all."

"i am not." but mat held up his phone and sure enough it was a picture of you and him after one of his games, wearing his jersey with your arms wrapped around his waist. "you're shitting me, why?"

mat shrugged and locked his phone, placing it down on the table. "i looked good in the photo."

you wanted to call bullshit, but he was already doing you a favor, so you let it go.

"fine," you said. "i'll change my lock screen." you scrolled through your photos until you found one you liked.

"can i see it?" he asked.

you immediately held your phone to your chest. "no!"

"i showed you mine!"

"that sounds like a you problem!"

"but it's not fair!" he whined.

"life's not fair, barzy."

he rolled his eyes but dropped the subject, knowing full well he could make you show him just by bringing up the favor he was doing for you. but for some reason, he decided to let it go.

"anything else?" mat asked before checking his watch.

you looked down at your notes app and couldn't find a reason to get him to stay. "no, i think that's it. why, do you have somewhere to be?"

he shrugged. "just meeting up with a couple of my teammates."

"during the offseason? don't you get enough of each other during the regular season?"

"sure, but we miss each other sometimes. i mean we go from seeing all the time to nothing. plus you got me staying in the city a little longer than normal."

you rolled your eyes. "you didn't have to say yes."

but he smiled anyway. "i know." he stood up from the table and knocked on it once. "text me the dates of travel this week so i can put them on my calendar. i'll get the plane tickets. let me know if you need anything else!"

he pressed a kiss on the top of your head and then he was gone.

an older woman stood up and walked towards you and smiled. "i just wanna say, you and your boyfriend are so cute together!"

maybe the whole fake dating thing would be easier than you thought.

going home

you slept over at mat's the night before leaving for the airport because it would make things easier on marty who agreed to drive you both to the airport. you weren't exactly sure how mat convinced marty to do it, but you made it a habit of not asking questions you didn't want the answer to.

"thanks again for the ride, marty," you said from the backseat.

originally, you and mat were fighting over who got to sit in the front, but not in the way others might expect. he said it was polite to let ladies sit in the front (which, when has he ever called you a lady?). you said he had the longer legs and needed the space.

marty groaned at the both of you to stop wasting his gas and to get in the damn car, i swear to god, barzy.

you got the backseat simply because you got in and shut the door before mat could pull you out.

"where are you and barzy headed?" marty asked.

"back to my hometown. my cousin is getting married," you supplied before he had time to ask follow up questions.

"and you chose barzy to be your date?"

you awkwardly chuckled. "tito was already in canada and i didn't have it in me to ask him to come back to the states."

"oh fuck off," mat said from the front seat.

the drive continued with you sporadically staring out the window or tuning into the conversation mat and marty were having about offseason workouts and the nba finals. when marty pulled up to the airport, mat was the first one out, opening your door a beat later.

he grabbed both of your bags in his hands, saying a quick thanks to his teammate for the both of you before shutting the trunk.

"i can carry my bags, mat."

he laughed, but otherwise continued on like he hadn't heard you. if you were a better woman, or maybe someone who hadn't been friendzoned for the last few years, you would've acknowledged the veins in his arms popping out under the strain of your luggage.

but you'd been down that road before back before you were friends and just admiring a handsome stranger from across the bar.

look at how that turned out for you.

you were expecting to split up at TSA since you knew mat had pre check and you most certainly did not. you were expecting him to hand your bags over (a backpack and a carry on) and head in the pre check lane.

so imagine your surprise when he not only refused to hand your bags over, he continued walking to the normal security check.

"mat," you hissed, but he kept walking. "mat." you stood on your toes and grabbed his shoulder to keep him from walking, but he brushed you off. so you stopped moving altogether until he noticed you weren't following him anymore.

"will you come on? you're gonna make us late!" he turned around, looking exasperated for some reason, like he wasn't the one being weird.

"mat, you need to go that way." you pointed to the pre check area.

he blinked at you, rolled his eyes, and turned around and kept walking.

"mathew michael paul barzal, where are you going?" you called after him, practically running to catch up to his long strides.

"i thought it was obvious, i'm headed to security," he deadpanned.

"but your security is that way mr. pre check."

"i'm not doing pre check. i'm going through regular security like you."

"why?"

mat glanced down at you and by that look alone, you would've thought you were the dumbest person alive in his mind. "please don't play dumb, it's not cute."

"i'm not playing dumb! and i don't care about being cute!"

"i'm not going to abandon you at tsa. i'd feel much better if we stick together, happy?" he stopped walking altogether and fixed you with a look. one that kept you rooted to your spot. "you happy, now?" you nodded. "good, let's go."

you followed after him and got in line.

tsa took a total of 20 minutes to get through. mat insisted you go first which meant you put your backpack on and grabbed your carry on before he could.

"you're ridiculous," he said as the both of you started the trek towards your gate.

"you sound like my mother," you quipped.

the rest of your walk was spent in peaceful silence. the both of you made it to the gate with about thirty minutes until boarding, which was the latest you'd ever arrived to a gate before.

you and mat argued about when to arrive the night before.

he won.

mainly because he was the one to tell marty when to pick you up from his apartment.

it felt like no time had passed when the gate attendant started speaking over the intercom. instinctively, you zoned out. you weren't an idiot, you knew when to board. this wasn't your first rodeo.

but mat started standing up when the gate attendant started calling for the first group.

you tugged his shirt sleeve. "mat, what the hell?"

it was a good thing your family wasn't there to see all the drama that unfolded between the two of you in the airport. anyone who watched the two of you since you'd arrived wouldn't believe you were in love.

not when you were actively getting on each other's nerves.

"will you stop?" he swatted your hand away only to grab it a second later to tug you into a standing position.

"what are you doing? we don't get on the plane yet--"

but he cut you off when he shoved a plane ticket in your hand with the words first class written on it.

"mat..." you trailed off. "what is this?"

he glanced down at you and rolled his eyes. "don't act like you've never seen a plane ticket before."

"asshole. why is it first class?"

he shrugged but wouldn't meet you eye. "i get more leg room."

"but why wouldn't you just put me in economy? mat i can't afford to pay you back for this!" you were panicking and beginning to think about how much you'd have to save before you could venmo him the full amount. you were about to pull your phone out to see how much it would cost before he grabbed your hand again, this time squeezing it in his own.

"don't worry about it," he said calmly. "i wasn't gonna let you sit alone, and i have the money for it, so i did it."

"but i can't afford--"

"i was never gonna let you pay me back anyways, so don't even think about how much it cost." while still holding onto your hand, he guided the both of you over to the gate entrance where your tickets were scanned so you could board.

you were sitting in first class moments later.

mat let you take the window seat while he got the aisle, saying it gave him more space, but you liked to think it was because he knew you liked watching the changing landscapes.

when the plane took off, mat leaned his head back in the seat and plugged his airpods in, closing his eyes as he did so. you mentally slapped yourself for forgetting yours, stupidly thinking that maybe mat would want to talk when he'd been uncharacteristically quiet the entire trip thus far.

you sat back in your seat and looked out the window as the clouds passed by. worries of how your family would react to mat, or worse, how mat would react to your family, filling your mind.

god you didn't think you could stomach losing him. in fact, maybe your entire idea was too risky. you'd take being the butt of the family jokes for years to come if it meant you got to keep mat. if you lost him--

your hand was squeezed twice.

you looked away from the window to mat who was holding your hand again and had an airpod out.

"you're thinking too loud," he said. "you okay?"

you nodded but it was clear he didn't believe you. nonetheless, he didn't push. instead, he held an airpod out to you. the tones of some pop song filled your ear.

mat didn't let go of your hand for the entire rest of the plane ride.

as soon as the plane hit the tarmac, mat was taking his airpod back and stuffing both into the case and back into his backpack. you texted your mom to let her know you'd just landed and would be getting an uber to her house.

while you were texting your mother, mat was grabbing your bags and holding up the line so you could slide out.

he didn't even acknowledge the glares and eye rolls being shot at both of you.

you and mat started your walk off the plane and towards the exit of the airport.

"so remind me who i need to be concerned about meeting? is it your dad?"

you laughed. your father was a lot of things, intimidating was not even remotely close to one. "not even close. it's angela that's the problem the problem."

"angela's the one getting married, right?" you nodded. "why are you concerned about her? she'll be too focused on getting married."

you laughed. actually, cackled. "she's had this planned out since we were seven. i'd bet my first born child that she has all of this finalized months ago."

"anything else i should know?" he asked.

you thought to yourself. what could you say about angela that wouldn't be mean but still be true?

"just....stay close. we need to go everywhere together, understood?"

he furrowed his brows. "even to the bathroom?"

you thought back to that one time in 11th grade when you didn't follow your boyfriend to the bathroom. "especially then," you said.

"got it. stick to you like glue."

you were staring at your phone and opening up your uber app when mat nudged you, but you ignored him.

but he nudged you before just grabbing your phone out of your hand.

"what?!" you asked.

he pointed. "is that your mom?"

a cold chill went down your back as you made eye contact with the woman who was your carbon copy holding a sign with yours and mat's (albeit spelled wrong) names on it. she was smiling and waving erratically with the hand that wasn't holding onto the poster.

"oh my god."

before you could even stop him, mat was walking towards your mom with an award winning smile. to your absolute horror, he placed your bags on the ground and allowed her to wrap him in a hug.

you zombie walked over to them, like you were trapped in some fever dream.

"honey!" she squealed when she pulled away from mat. "you didn't tell me how handsome mat was!" she said not so quietly.

god you wanted to die. curl up and die right there on the airport floor.

mat was snickering into his fist at your reaction.

maybe you should've asked beau instead.

home

your mom parked the car in the driveway; she nearly swooned when mat opened your car door for you and grabbed all of your bags.

"such a gentleman," was all she said before heading up the front porch.

the two of you followed your mother into your house where your dad, your brother, and his girlfriend sat in the living room.

"mat," you started. "this is my dad, my brother cody, and his girlfriend harper. guys, this is mat."

"i would wave, but my hands are full."

"oh honey, stop being rude and show mat to your room."

you blinked. "you mean, our rooms, right?" your mother and father were very traditional in that sense. so you'd banked on having to share a bathroom at most with mat.

not an entire bedroom.

not a tiny bed.

"we're not gonna act like the two of you haven't slept together already. i was born at night, but not last night," your father said from his position in the recliner.

you could hear mat choking on air while your brother cackled.

"besides," your mother cleared her throat. "cody's old room has been converted into an office, so that just leaves the queen bed in your room, sweetheart. that won't be a problem, will it?"

you shook your head, though you very much wanted to curl up in a hole and die. "no ma'am, that'll be fine."

your father crossed his hands over his stomach and leveled mat with a heated stare. "just because i know the two of you have slept together does not mean under any circumstances that it should happen under this roof. do you understand me, son?"

mat nodded, though he looked the most uncomfortable you'd ever seen him. "yes sir."

"oh honey," your mother started. "let them go settle in. dinner will be in an hour."

you led mat up the stairs and to your childhood bedroom. you finally gave up on offering to help carry the bags. mat, for the most part, looked happy to do something with his hands all things considered.

the room hadn't changed much since you moved out and away from home. the walls were still lilac, the carpet was still cream.

but the dolls you had growing up were missing, and for that, you were thankful.

mat dropped the bags on the ground and shut the door behind him. his shoulders relaxed for the first time since getting off the airplane.

"your family's nice," he said.

you immediately flocked to him until there was only about a foot between you. "mat, i'm so sorry. i didn't think they'd make us share a room, they never let cody do that growing up."

he smiled and placed his hands on your shoulders. "it's okay. it's just for a week. we've fallen asleep together on the couch before, it'll be just like that, just in a bed, okay? and i promise i won't stare when you get changed."

you nodded and wrapped your arms around his waist. "this is already so overwhelming."

"hey, we're the dream team, okay? i'm the best liar ever. we've got this in the bag."

and when he sounded so confident, how could you possibly believe otherwise?

the two of you got settled in your room before completely kicking off your shoes, changing into comfier clothes (with you in the closet and mat in the room) and settling into bed just to scroll on your phones. your mom came knocking before too long to tell you dinner was ready.

dinner was a pot of spaghetti, your mom's best dish. everyone was seated by the time you and mat made it into the dining room. mat, ever the performer, pulled your chair out and took the seat to your right, choosing to sit next to your mom rather than your father.

"are you waiting for a grand invitation? dig in," your father grunted. his irritation immediately kicked everyone into gear, with your family passing around garlic bread and filling plates with pasta.

the table was quiet aside from the sounds of forks scraping against the plates.

"so mat," cody started. "what do you do for a living?"

"oh," he said, wiping his mouth. "i play professional hockey."

"an athlete?" your mother questioned. "i thought you learned from the last one."

you about dropped your head into your plate. "mom...."

"sorry, sorry, i know we said we wouldn't talk about him, but he's going to be a part of the family soon."

mat's neck should've snapped from how fast he whipped it to look at you.

you nudged his knee under the table with yours. later, you hoped he'd understand.

harper cleared her throat. "what team do you play for?" she asked. "i grew up a devils fan, so i have to know."

"islanders," mat smirked, like it was something to be proud of, and to him, it was. to your family though? they were more concerned with the upcoming college football season to really care.

"oh god," harper replied. "at least you don't play for the rangers."

mat took a sip of his water. "agreed."

"do you still have all your teeth?" cody asked.

you inhaled and started choking on what you guessed was a spaghetti noodle. mat reached over and immediately started patting your back quite forcefully until your airway was cleared.

"yeah," mat said. "still have all my teeth."

"how did you two meet?" your mom asked. clearly your family was in interrogation mode, but at the very least these were questions you prepared for.

"at a bar through some mutual friends," mat answered, knowing good and well they weren't looking for you to say anything, their eyes were solely focused on your best friend.

"and out of all the girls, you picked this one? did you know she couldn't tie her shoes till she was in third grade?" cody laughed.

mat didn't.

which was odd, because he was usually the first one to poke fun at you.

"you wet the bed until you were nine," you shot back, ready to diffuse the tension.

a loud laugh burst from harper's mouth. not even her hand over her lips could quite muffle the volume of it.

cody rolled his eyes but held his hands up. "laugh all you want, harp. you chose this."

she smiled and leaned into him. "i did."

you stared until mat's hand landed on your thigh, effectively snapping you out of your daze. you looked at him and gave him a small smile before eating more of your mom's cooking.

dinner was over shortly thereafter, with small talk being made between the six of you. when it ended, mat was the first one up, grabbing both of your plates, while you grabbed the cups, and followed you into the kitchen.

"oh no, you're not washing dishes," you said when you saw him put the plates in the sink. but he made no sound of hearing you. "mat!" you hissed before placing your cups in the sink and grabbing him by the arm. "you're not washing dishes! you're a guest!"

"neither of you are," your mother walked in. "you just got here. your father and i will clean up dinner, the two of you can go relax and unwind. i'm sure you've had a long day."

"i can help--" mat started.

but your mom started twirling a hand towel with a smile on her face. "don't make me smack you with this, mat." and the very sight of that coupled with the lighthearted threat had you both sprinting out of the kitchen. you'd grown up in that house long enough to remember the sting of the towel on your legs when you annoyed your mother.

you also remembered trying to get back at her once and failing completely.

your father passed the two of you as he walked into the kitchen while your brother and his girlfriend took their spots on the couch. it only left one seat left in the room, your dad's chair. but combined with the air travel, the early morning, you were left exhausted and nothing sounded better than showering and crawling into bed.

"we're gonna head upstairs, long day and all," you said to cody and harper, the inference was that they would tell your parents.

mat followed you up the stairs and into your childhood bedroom. "you take the first shower," you instructed. "i have to wash my hair and it'll take longer."

he nodded and gathered his clothes while you searched your bag for a set of modest pajamas. he finished his shower in about twenty minutes.

you hopped in the shower and went through your routine, washing your hair and body before stepping out and drying off. when you got back to your room, mat was laying in bed under the covers watching the tv on your dresser.

in true fashion, he was watching espn.

"don't you get enough of this during the season? i didn't even know you liked baseball." you crawled into bed and cuddled into mat's clothed chest like you always did.

mat shrugged, wrapping his arm around your shoulders. "i was waiting for you to come back to decide what we should watch."

you hummed and buried your face into his shirt.

cuddling wasn't abnormal for the two of you, most movie nights at mat's place ended with you in similar positions. you were aware his friends made fun of him for it, but mat thrived off physical affection and you were all too willing to give it to him.

"just turn on a movie," you mumbled.

he selected a random mission impossible movie that you couldn't give two shits about. but when the movie and your fresh shower were coupled with mat running a hand up and down your back?

you were out like a light.

exploring the hometown -- the dress shop

it was an alarm that woke you up right as the sun rose. you groaned into your pillow, burying your face into the fabric. a warm arm tightened its grip around your waist. for a moment you freaked out, trying to wriggle away from the person who had you locked in, but the person grumbled and groaned.

"if you keep moving like that, i'm going to need a cold shower. so stop."

oh.

mat.

oh.

you immediately stopped moving and relaxed back into the bed.

"we need to talk," he said.

"can we talk later? it's barely even morning."

but mat had no intention of letting you sleep in. he used his arm to forcibly turn you over to face him. when you looked him in the face, his hair was mussed and in his eyes. before you could even stop yourself, you hand was reaching and moving the hair out of the way.

"what did your mom mean when she said the last athlete you dated was joining the family soon?"

you groaned and shoved your head into his chest, but he lightly pushed your forehead away from him so he could look you in the eyes.

"i'm serious," he said.

you sighed. "i dated this guy in 11th grade, his name was owen and he played football. he was the starting tight end and a grade older than me." you avoided looking at him and instead traced the letters on his islanders t-shirt with your fingers. "things were great, he was nice and all, so i invited him to my birthday party. he went to the bathroom, and i noticed he was gone for awhile so when i went to look for him, he was making out with angela."

mat's grip tightened on your waist. he said your name quietly, but you shook your head.

"it's fine," you said. "i told my parents but angela didn't get in trouble, not really at least. my aunt pressured me to make up with her for the sake of 'family' and 'feminism,' so i accepted her half assed apology and congratulated her when they got engaged a year ago."

"what a bitch," was all mat said.

"mat..."

but he was sitting up and pulling you with him. "no, don't brush this off. what she did was shitty. and your family just expected you to forgive her and watch her get married to him?"

"mat, it happened years ago. forgive and forget."

"i think you mean resent and remember," he grumbled.

"can we just go back to sleep? it's too early for this."

mat huffed but sank back into the mattress.

the two of you fell back asleep until light was hitting you in the eyes. "get up, sleepy heads! you can't sleep the day away!"

you groaned at the sound of your mother's cheering, or maybe it was the bright ceiling light blinding you, either way, the way you woke up the first time was better than this.

"mom, what time is it?"

"a little after 8."

you and mat groaned in unison. "you couldn't let us sleep in?"

"there are things that need to get done, sweetheart. do either of you have something to wear to the wedding?"

"mom, it's too early for this."

she sighed and probably rolled her eyes, something you would notice if you weren't too busy burying your head in the fabric of mat's shirt. in turn, he was burying his face in your hair.

"fine. you two can sleep the day away, but i expect the both of you for dinner tonight and to be dressed appropriately for the family dinner tomorrow." she left shortly thereafter.

"family dinner?" mat asked into your hair. "how is that different from regular dinner?"

"it's with the entire family, not just mine. you'll meet all my cousins and aunts and uncles and grandparents there."

"sounds like a lot."

"it is. they did this when my cousin andy got married two years ago."

mat hummed into the top of your head. "sounds exhausting."

"if you don't wanna see me for a month after this week is over, i wouldn't blame you."

he brought you closer to him, which you didn't think was possible considering you two were already pretty close. "i always wanna see you."

you smiled into his shirt, which you were pretty sure he could feel, but neither of you drew attention to it.

"we need to get up," you sighed, pushing away from him just a little.

"i'm already up."

on cue you felt something around your hip that had you squealing and falling out of bed laughing. "you absolute douche!" but it had no real bite since you were holding your stomach and rolling around on the floor laughing.

"what am i supposed to do when i wake up with a pretty girl pressed against me? ignore nature?"

you rolled your eyes and got up, searching through your bag for a pair of shorts and a t-shirt. "get dressed, asshole."

by the time you made it downstairs after taking care of your hair and brushing your teeth, your mother had set out a few granola bars for breakfast.

"i would've made eggs and waffles, but i'm already swamped with helping your aunt, i just didn't have the energy this morning."

"thanks, mom," you smiled and kissed her cheek once before grabbing a granola bar.

"do you know what you're wearing to angela's wedding?" she asked.

you nodded while you chewed your bar. "i brought that blue dress i wore to cody's graduation."

your mom's face twisted into disgust. "that old thing? honey, you can do better than that."

you waited until your mother turned around to roll your eyes only to catch mat coming down the stairs in a t-shirt and jeans.

god he looked so good it should be criminal.

but instead of fawning over him, you just threw a granola bar at his chest with he caught with an ease. "what're we doing today?"

"shopping apparently," you grumbled.

"oh don't give him attitude, honey. you should've packed something more appropriate to the wedding instead of that ratty dress you brought."

"it's not ratty!" you weren't sure why you were defending a dress you didn't care about, you'd only grabbed the first dress you saw in your closet. maybe it was the fact that she was so quick to dismiss something you chose to wear.

"that dress is years old, sweetheart. it's time for something new."

"thanks for the constructive criticism, mom. you never fail to give it at the best times," you deadpanned. you glanced back at mat who was stuffing the granola bar in his mouth. "you ready to go?"

he nodded, still chewing as you started walking towards the door.

"dad! i'm taking your car." you grabbed the keys, then mat's hand, and tugged him out the door.

neither of you spoke until you were already five minutes down the road.

"are you okay?" mat asked, eyes warily staring at your from the passenger seat. "you're gripping the wheel pretty tight."

you looked down at your own hands and eased up. "she just--" you groaned. "she always does this, criticizes me or what i wear. i know she means well, but it's irritating."

"for what it's worth, i liked the blue dress."

you gave him a small smile. "the problem isn't you, mat, it's not even the dress. if my mom thinks it's ratty, angela definitely will. and at the end of the day, i think that's what my mom is trying to save me from."

"why doesn't she just tell angela to mind her own business?"

"question of the year," you grumbled before pulling into the parking lot of a local boutique.

the two of you got out and headed inside, though mat looked a little out of place. "what's the dress code for this wedding anyway?"

"i'm sure if you brought a dress shirt and some slacks, you'll be fine."

you looked around, occasionally checking the dresses on the racks, but nothing caught your eye.

"can i help you find anything?" that voice nearly stopped you in your tracks, it was someone you hadn't thought about since you left for college.

you turned around and smiled at the woman in front of you. last time you saw her, you were standing in matching caps and gowns. you sat next to each other at graduation, and before that, you shared a few classes together. if it wasn't for the bright red hair and the comments your mom had made in the past about her staying in town, you never would've recognized her.

you hoped she wouldn't recognize you.

but she said your name in shock and smiled. "it's been so long!" she said. "back in town for angela's wedding?"

and really, you had no reason to dread this conversation, meredith was as nice as she was in high school. but you weren't sure if anyone was ever this happy to run into someone they knew from high school.

speaking of, you couldn't even remember why you weren't closer to her in high school.

"meredith, hi," you replied. "yes, i'm in town for her wedding. are you going?"

meredith nodded and smiled. "i'm actually her maid of honor."

of course she was.

that explained why you weren't close friends in high school.

"that's so exciting!" you smiled through a clenched jaw.

"i was shocked to hear you weren't in the bridal party though. is everything okay?" meredith sounded genuinely concerned, and while she was sweet, you never remembered her being very observant.

you shrugged. "we've grown apart since i moved away, it's water under the bridge."

meredith nodded until her gaze shifted to behind you were you assumed mat had just appeared. "who's this?"

"this is--"

"i'm mat," he held his hand out to shake. "her boyfriend."

meredith shakily grabbed his hand, you could see it tremble in his grip. "meredith," she practically swooned. a moment passed before she let go of his hand.

you had to keep from rolling your eyes. you were no stranger to mat's effect on women but it didn't make it any less obnoxious.

"we're looking for a dress for her to wear to the wedding," mat explained as his arm snaked around your waist. "i think she looks amazing in anything, but if you could find her something summery that matches her complexion, maybe a nice sundress, that would be very helpful."

you looked at mat like he'd grown a second and third head while meredith scrambled off to find something to fit his description. "are you okay?"

"why wouldn't i be?"

"you just listed of a theme of clothing without even batting an eyelash."

mat shrugged. "i was just being efficient. if you don't like what she picks out, we can always find something else or go somewhere else. but i thought the summery vibe would look nice with what i packed."

"and what did you pack? a white shirt and black slacks?"

"guess you'll have to find out in a few days," he quipped before lightly booping your nose.

meredith came back with an arm full of dresses and ushered the both of you back to the dressing rooms. she handed the articles of clothing to you and whisked herself away citing that she'd be around if you needed anything.

which was perfectly fine with you, it meant you didn't have an audience to trying on dresses.

"try the green one on first!" mat called as you shut the door behind you.

"you're not running the show here, barzal. as much as you would like to think otherwise."

you put the green one on first anyway.

you looked in the mirror, not sure if you liked the sleeves or the cut of the dress. was it too short for a wedding? it felt too casual.

"are you gonna show me? i'm assuming it doesn't take ten years for you to put on a dress, sweetheart," mat said.

"i'm not doing a fashion show for you, barzy."

"your boyfriend would like very much to see what you're getting, baby."

you rolled your eyes, mainly because he had a point. but amidst your irritation, hesitancy rose up but you didn't know why. mat had never given you a reason to be insecure, he was more than affirming about your place in his life and your appearance. you had no reason to be insecure, but yet it was rising up anyway.

still, you opened the door.

you poked your head out to see mat sitting on his phone until he heard the creak of the door. "well, let me see you!" he said.

you came out from behind the door as confidently as you could manage.

only for mat to let out a low whistle.

"oh shut up," you whined.

"you look good, baby," he smirked. "almost too good to wear out in public." you flushed under his scrutinizing stare that seemed to linger on some areas more than others and the nickname made heat slowly crawl up your neck.

"you're such a flatterer."

"just calling it like i see it, honey."

"will you quit it with the nicknames?" you covered your face with your hands.

"am i embarrassing you, baby?" he asked, voice much closer now. you didn't know why until you felt two hands on your waist.

"no."

mat pulled your hands down and smirked as he placed his palms back on your waist. "liar."

you rolled your eyes. "do you like the dress or not?"

"it's not about my opinion, do you like it?"

you all but stomped your foot in frustration. "mat," you whined. "what was the point of coming out here if you're just going to defer to my opinion?"

he shrugged like it wasn't bothering him to be that close to you; unlike you, whose heart was racing a mile a minute. "because i like to see dresses on pretty women, specifically you."

you shoved him away with a light push on his chest. the skirt of the dress bunching up a bit as his grip was pulled away.

"lemme see the next one!" he called as you walked back into the dressing room.

you tried on three more dresses, all of them garnering a similar reaction from mat, but none really feeling like the dress you should be wearing. none of them were nice enough to wear to the wedding without your mother, aunt, or angela saying something smart.

your hope was diminishing when you got to the final dress. it was plain in comparison to the others as far as beading and lace went, just a simple navy blue dress with a deep v and a small slit up to mid thigh. but you tried it on anyway.

"i don't know about this one, but i kinda like it. i wanted to know what you think," you said as you came out the dressing room.

mat looked up from his phone.

only for his jaw to drop.

you shifted your weight from foot to foot, back and forth, as you waited for a comment from him. mat, in all your time as friends, was never hesitant to share his opinion, but the longer he stayed silent, the more fearful you got that maybe this dress wasn't the one you should be wearing.

"do you not like it? i can--"

"no, you're getting it." he stood up and called meredith over who seemed to have been hovering just out of sight, like she was waiting for that exact moment. "she's getting this one, can you ring it up?"

meredith smiled but looked back and forth between you two. "of course, she'll have to take it off but--"

"mat, are you sure? i'm not even sure about this."

"baby," there he went, using another pet name. "you look fantastic, and even if you didn't, which you do, i took one look at your face and could tell you loved this dress. you're getting it." he said it so confidently you were inclined to believe him.

you started reaching for the tag on the dress. "how much is it--"

he ripped the tag off and handed it to meredith along with his card. "will you ring this up for us while she gets dressed, meredith?" he asked.

"mat, you don't have to pay--"

“let’s be honest, this is more for me than you." he said it so confidently, how could you possibly say no to him? "go get dressed," he said. "i'll be out here."

you quickly changed into your other clothes and grabbed the dress on your way out. mat quickly took the dress out of your hand and wrapped an arm around your shoulders. you didn't think anything of it until he pulled you in and placed a kiss on the side of your head.

you would've read into it had meredith not been in plain sight.

he must've done it to keep up the act.

meredith took the dress and wrapped it in a box that mat refused to let you carry, just like he refused to let you see the receipt. you told him that you'd just venmo him, but he ignored you all the way to the car.

preparation mode

your mom had ordered pizza for dinner which you and mat had taken up to your room. no one in your family batted an eyelash considering you both cited it as having a long day and wanting to unwind.

"so tell me about your family, the ones i haven't met yet," mat said through a mouth full of pizza.

you were currently wearing one of his t-shirts that you stole from his apartment a month ago and a pair of running shorts while you leaned back against the headboard. "well, there's my uncle mike, he's my mom's brother and the oldest in their family. for the most part he minds his business, he's on his fourth marriage and probably the last one because him and his wife don't even care to mask their indifference towards each other." you took a huge bite of your pizza and swallowed it before continuing. "then there's aunt patty who is angela's mom and she's about as nice as they come but also she's super passive aggressive and let's angela get away with everything."

"sounds like she's not actually nice, and you're just conditioned to think she is."

you rolled your eyes. "we don't have time to psychoanalyze my familial relationships, barzy."

"sure we do, if your aunt lets your bullying cousin get away with everything, then she's not actually nice."

"what does that make her then, smart ass?"

"a pawn." and he said it so lightly that you didn't even think about it for a moment. when you finally registered what he said, you furrowed your brows. so mat continued. "anyone who lets their child 'get away with everything' even when they're wrong is not a parent so much as they are a pawn in their child's game."

you blinked at him once. then a second time, wondering when your best friend had been replaced by your therapist.

"what?" he asked.

"i'm just trying to figure out what happened to my best friend. it's like you were replaced by dr. phil."

mat rolled his eyes. "i'm allowed to be wise on occasion."

"is it an occasion if it's never happened before?"

"what makes you say that?"

"i'm saying someone who gets hit in the face with a hockey stick or a puck every other game doesn't always have the best wisdom."

"but i do now! and that's what matters." he took another bite of pizza and hummed to himself.

"what?" you asked. "what was that hum about?"

"tell me about your other family members."

you explained how your cousin andrew (otherwise known as andy) was the oldest of angela's siblings and was married two years ago to his wife kelsey. they were distant from angela because she announced her engagement at kelsey's baby shower, but in true family fashion, that incident was pushed under the rug.

then there was thomas who was a year older than you and angela who had an affinity of sleeping around and generally not giving a shit about anyone or anything. he would say what he wanted when he wanted and for that reason, he was one of your favorite relatives. because, for the most part, he was the only one other than your grandmother who called angela out on her shit.

"what about your grandparents?"

you shrugged. "my grandfather died a few years ago and my grandmother is still around. she's honestly my favorite family member, though i'm sure that has nothing to do with me and cody being her favorites."

"oh i'm sure," mat said.

"and that's my mom's side of the family." you slapped your thighs and took a sip of your drink.

"what about you?"

you looked at him, confused at what he could possibly be talking about. "what about me?"

"you've told me about your family, tell me about you."

you scoffed. "mat, we're friends, what could you possibly want to know about me?"

he shrugged. "tell me something i wouldn't know. if you don't, i'm going to go downstairs and ask your mom to bring out the baby photos."

you rolled your eyes and sighed heavily, like it was some burden on you. "fine. when i was a kid, angela stuck bubble gum in my hair and i had to get a horrendous haircut. cody made fun of me until it grew out again."

"i bet you were still cute."

you got up from the bed and picked up a picture frame off your dresser. for some reason, your mother insisted on decorating your room with your worst moments, hence why your prom photo was hanging in the stair way. you handed the picture frame to mat who immediately smiled at your seven year old self smiling with two missing teeth and a shitty haircut.

"oh," he said.

"what?" you asked.

mat looked up with a huge smile on his face. "i definitely would've had a crush on you as a kid." you rolled your eyes and shoved him in the shoulder. "hey!" he protested. "i would've! you were cute!"

"shut up, you would not. i bet seven year old mat was the cutest boy in his grade and too worried about hockey to look at seven year old me."

"he might've been, i'd never know. but all i'm saying is if seven year old me knew seven year old you? he'd be in love. well, as much love as a seven year old can feel. in fact, i would've given you my favorite pokemon cards if you'd asked."

you could feel heat creeping up your neck at the idea, and how far it was from the truth. your classmates gave you hell for the way your hair looked, and it was such an odd and unbelievable story that no one took you seriously until the next school year when you grew your hair out.

"well, do you have a photo of you as a kid? it's not fair that you get unlimited access to all my childhood photos and i don't get to see you!"

mat rolled his eyes but pulled out his phone and scrolled through his camera roll. he flipped his phone around so you could see a photo of him in hockey gear with a big smile on his face. "aw mat," you cooed. "you were so cute."

"would you have had a crush on me?"

you thought about it for a moment. "i actually had a crush on this guy in my grade named frankie, so probably not."

mat's jaw dropped. "so my crush would go unrequited?"

"mat, honey, we didn't even live in the same country. this whole situation is hypothetical."

"tell me, did frankie play hockey?"

"what? no."

"was he funnier than me?"

"mat how am i supposed to know if second grade you was funnier than frankie?"

he shrugged. "i don't know. but was he?"

"he was the class clown."

mat groaned and fell back into your pillows. "seven year old mat is crushed. he stands no chance."

"honey, i cannot stress this enough, this is a hypothetical situation."

but all of a sudden, he stood up to his full height and walked towards you with the picture frame still in his hands. he placed the frame back on your dresser and closed the distance between the two of you. "what if it wasn't hypothetical?" he said, his tone shifted from playful to serious.

you locked his phone while you looked at him, to say you were confused would be an understatement. "what're you talking about?"

he shrugged and placed his hands on your waist, pulling you closer until you hips touched and it was like electricity struck your nervous system. "what if--"

a knock on the door interrupted anything mat was going to say. the two of you jumped apart. "hope you two aren't naked!" cody's voice sounded through the wooden door. "we're having a movie night and mom made it clear that you two need to be downstairs in five minutes."

"we'll be right out!" you called, though your eyes were still locked on mat's.

he reluctantly let go of you as you cleared your throat. you didn't know what was different about air around you, how it felt tense and warm at the same time.

you headed downstairs with mat trailing behind you and sat on the couch next to each other. you weren't sure what changed, but when mat put his arm around you like he had done in the past, you fought every urge to tense up. what was going on with you?

when the movie was over, and it was time for all of you to go to bed, you and mat dressed in separate rooms. you were in bed by the time he returned and you were too busy controlling your breaths to notice his hesitancy.

he called your name quietly, but you squeezed your eyes shut and evened out your breathing. mat pushed a strand of hair behind your ear as he got in bed before he wrapped an arm around your waist pulled your back to his chest.

your heart beat against your ribs loud enough you were sure he could hear it. you weren't sure why, or what it was, not even your ex boyfriend had your heart beating like that, and it took you months to get over him.

when mat finally fell asleep, you relaxed, and pulled yourself gently and slowly out of his hold.

you placed a pillow between you two.

it was on the floor on mat's side the next morning.

the "big family" dinner

"is this appropriate enough to wear to dinner tonight?" mat came into the room wearing a plain white tee and black jeans with adidas.

it should be a sin to look that good in something so simple.

"if you were anyone else, i'd say no," you replied.

he blinked. "what does that mean?"

"i mean somehow you make really plain outfits look good."

he smirked. "you saying i look good?"

"oh please. like you don't know."

mat put both of his hands in his front pockets and leaned his shoulder against the wall. "maybe, but it sounds better coming from your mouth." you rolled your eyes and shoved him aside as you gathered your clothes in your hands. "what're you wearing?"

"a shirt and shorts." you walked into the bathroom across the hall to change into your outfit before going back in the bedroom to get your shoes.

mat let out a low whistle much like he did at the boutique. "is that my shirt?"

you looked down and saw the islanders logo on the front and shrugged. "must be."

"when did you grab this?"

"must've been during one of our sleepovers." you walked right out of the room and down the stairs to join the rest of your family. the six of you (your father, mother, brother, his girlfriend, mat, and you) would be riding in two separate cars. cody tried to convince your parents that mat should ride with them while you rode with him, but you quickly shot that idea down. you wouldn't say you were embarrassed of your parents, but you surely weren't going to leave mat to his own devices with them.

which is how you ended up sitting in the backseat of your dad's subaru with a foot of space between you and mat.

"mat, honey, tell us about your family! do you have any siblings?" your mother asked from the front seat she tried to give him earlier.

"you have longer legs!" she said.

"and my dad would literally punch me in the chest if i didn't let you sit shotgun," mat replied.

"i have a sister, her name's liana."

"oh, liana!" your mother gushed. "what a beautiful name! i should've named you that, honey!"

"mom," you whined. "you don't think it would be weird to have the same name as mat's sister?"

she hummed. "i guess, when you put it that way..." your mother shook her head. "how'd you get into hockey, mat?"

"mom, mat's gonna be interrogated all night long, can we save the questions for later?"

"baby, it's fine," mat assured you. your heart picked up just a little at the pet name but settled down when he turned his attention back to your mom. "i grew up playing it," he said. "my dad used to play as well."

it was like your mom fell in love with your boyfriend even more. "see honey? he continued a tradition that his father set for him!" you kept yourself from snarking back and rolling your eyes and just smiled. "i wanted my daughter to be a nurse like me," she explained to mat. "but she wasn't interested."

"mom, i can barely handle the sight of blood and you thought i would be okay in the icu?"

mat cackled. "you should see her when i have cuts and bruises from games, she pulls out gloves and about douses my wounds in peroxide."

"i'm not gonna get a blood borne disease because of you, barzal," you replied.

he rolled his eyes but smiled at you anyway.

you zoned out for the rest of the car ride as your aunt's house grew closer. mat, ever the observant friend, reached out and grabbed your hand in his, squeezing it three times until you looked at him.

"you okay?" he mouthed. when you finally nodded he sighed and brought your hands to his lips, kissing it once before placing your joined hands between the two of you. your heart soared at the gesture, but you looked back out the window before he could see it.

your father parked the car in front of a giant house you were all too familiar with. memories flashed before your eyes of summers spent swimming in the pool in the backyard and playing with toys in angela's room.

"be on your best behavior," your mom directed towards you with a knowing look in her eyes. you weren't sure why, you hadn't made a scene in years, though you were contemplating it if your mom kept harassing you.

you and mat slid out of the backseat and followed your parents to the front door. your mom didn't even bother knocking; she opened the door and left it open for the rest of you to follow. mat trailed behind you, grabbing your hand at the last minute before walking through the front door.

you were immediately accosted by a plethora of voices and music, unknowingly, you gripped mat's hand a little tighter as your aunt rounded the corner with a glass of champagne and a large smile. you saw as she greeted your parents with hugs, careful not to spill her drink. when her eyes focused on you, or rather the hand you were holding, there was a sense of smug satisfaction that occurred when you saw the poorly disguised shock on her face.

"hey!" she greeted. "i see you brought a friend."

before you could say anything, mat was taking his hand out of yours and shaking your aunt's hand. "i'm mat, the boyfriend."

aunt patty smiled and then looked at you, like she was evaluating something. "nice to meet you, mat," she said before bringing you into a hug and giving the same salutation she gave your parents. "angela will be excited to see you, both of you!" she said.

doubtful, you thought. very doubtful.

aunt patty ushered the both of you further into the house; mat's hand returned to holding yours until it was time to go outside in the backyard and join the rest of the family, then his hand moved to your lower back.

the two of you walked outside and watched as your family mingled in the backyard.

"who do we talk to first?" mat asked.

you shook your head. "no one. we go grab food first. my family is easier to handle with food."

mat nodded and followed your lead to the table with assorted finger foods on it. the two of you grabbed a plate full of food and found a table to sit.

it wasn't long before the table filled up with cody and his girlfriend who'd arrived moments after you did.

"did you give him the family run down?" cody asked before taking a bite out of one of his deviled eggs.

"this isn't amateur hour, cody. i spent the entire evening yesterday prepping him."

and a coffee date and plane ride dedicated to perfecting a fabricated story.

as if reminded that you two had appearances to keep up, mat reached back and draped his arm around the back of your chair and leaned back in his own. he looked so comfortable doing so you would've believed him to be genuine.

it wasn't long before your other family members came over, your grandmother to start. both you and mat stood to greet her. she wasted no time pulling you into a hug and kissing your cheek, holding your face between her hands and smiling.

"my, my, my, you've grown," she said.

"you say that every time you see me, grandma," you replied.

"and i mean it every time." her eyes dart to over your shoulder where you're positive mat is towering over you. "and who is this?" she asked, but it was clear by the smirk on her face that she already knew. the entire family probably knew given how much your mother liked to talk about your love life.

"i'm mat," he said and extended a hand out to shake.

your grandmother immediately let go of you and all but pushed you out of the way to hug mat who didn't even hesitate to embrace her back. when your grandmother pulled away she smiled and glanced back and forth between you and mat.

"so you're the gentleman who stole my baby's heart?"

mat gave your grandmother a megawatt smile. "no ma'am, you have it backwards. i just tricked her into dating me, still not sure how i accomplished it though."

your grandmother looked back at you and all but swooned. "you didn't tell me how handsome he was."

you blinked. you weren't sure what kind of magic ability mat had but the fact that you grandmother looked ready to become a cougar or push you down the aisle said something.

"didn't think he was your type, grandma."

she rolled her eyes but the smile on her lips said enough. "you and that attitude, girl, i've missed it. i hope she doesn't give you this much trouble, mat."

he only reached around your grandmother and tugged you into his chest. "oh this one? she usually gives me a run for my money," he said before placing a kiss on the top of your head.

your grandmother looked at you and smiled.

and just like that, he'd won over your grandmother's approval. it was a record for you, actually. even your best boyfriend had to meet her several times to win her over.

and mat did it in a matter of minutes.

really, it wasn't fair how charming he was.

"well," she said. "i'll let you two finish eating, i'm sure your cousin will make her way over here at some point." and on cue, your grandmother and you met eyes and shared an understanding. while your grandma loved angela, she, unlike your aunt, was not blind to the passive aggressive comments made by your cousin over the years.

mat pulled your chair out and pushed it in as you sat down before taking his place next to you. his hand immediately made its way onto your thigh, his thumb stroking the outside of your leg.

he leaned in and murmured in your ear. "that went well."

you swallowed the weird sensation in your throat that probably had nothing to do with his touch and proximity.

"a little too well if you ask me," you replied. "she likes you a lot more than my other boyfriends."

mat shrugged like that wasn't the highest praise you could give him. "to be fair, your exes have always been shit."

"they have not!"

cody chimed in from across the table. "they have." you glared at him but he seemed unfazed. "do you want me to tally the boys you've brought home?" but he didn't even give you a chance to answer before he started listing your exes on his fingers. "there was cole who skipped your birthday because it wasn't important. then there was conrad who had the weird relationship with his sister. then there was randall who wouldn't speak to you for days on end and then text you out of the blue."

you rolled your eyes. "those don't count, those were high school boyfriends."

cody deadpanned, though you both knew he skipped one particular boyfriend who happened to be the shittiest. "oh i can skip straight to college and post college if you'd like. you've given me plenty of material to work with." so he continued. "there was yohan who didn't have a bed frame, just a mattress on the floor."

"we were in college!"

mat chimed in. "a mattress on the floor is bad, babe. you can't excuse that."

you huffed and sat back in your chair as cody kept going.

"what about peter who refused to ever get your number and only communicated through snapchat? or lance who had the armpit fetish?"

mat nearly spit out his drink. "a what? what does that even mean?"

you groaned and put your head in your hands until a new voice chimed in.

"it means that she wore a lot of tank tops when they dated, per his request. isn't that right?"

you looked up and saw the rock on her hand before you ever saw her face.

"angela," you said and tried to smile, though the poorly masked snicker made by cody told you it probably looked more like a grimace. "hey, long time no see."

"alright, that's our cue, harper," cody mumbled before him and his girlfriend left the table.

she smiled and fixed her eyes on mat. "and who is this?"

mat, as if sensing the challenge she was presenting, moved his hand from your thigh to around your shoulder. unlike meeting your grandmother, he didn't stand up or offer a hand, he just nodded and smile. "i'm mat."

"and who is 'mat?'" she asked in what she believed was a charming way.

you had to keep yourself from rolling your eyes.

"i'm her boyfriend," mat said before placing a kiss on the side of your head. it was with premature smug satisfaction that you witnessed the smile on angela's lips falter just a little. but then you remembered the times before when you introduced boyfriends to family and how angela looked at them with some sort of predatory gleam in her eyes when met with a challenge.

and mat's indifference to her was the biggest challenge of all.

a tall blond man walked over and wrapped an arm around angela's waist. "baby," he said. "i got you a drink." and he handed her a flute of champagne.

she sipped it but never took her eyes off mat.

"who're you?" owen asked. you had to keep yourself from rolling your eyes. all those years ago, you thought his blunt ways of communicating were charming, now they just grated on your nerves.

"honey, this is mat, the infamous plus one."

"boyfriend," mat corrected. "simple mistake, i get it. it's not like the rsvp's asked for a relationship definition or anything."

"how long have you two been together?" owen asked.

"a few months," you answered in unison, which immediately made angela quirk a brow. you started sweating, your hands started shaking in your lap.

almost as if sensing your nerves, mat reached over with the hand that wasn't around you shoulders, and placed it on your thigh, rubbing smooth circles into your skin.

goosebumps formed on your skin, but for an entirely different reason that a cold breeze considering it was nearly sweltering outside.

"we've been friends for awhile though," mat said. "known each other for about as long as we've been in new york."

angela hummed, but didn't seem convinced. "okay," she smiled. "enjoy the party."

when she walked away with owen in tow, you let out a sigh.

"you okay?" mat mumbled.

"that went better than i thought."

"i thought you said she was mean," mat said.

"she typically is, maybe she's changed though. it's been a minute since i came home."

mat hummed, but maybe your earlier conversations convinced him of angela's normal behavior, because he didn't seem like he believed you.

"don't hum at me," you said. "she could!"

mat shrugged and leaned back in his chair, his hand squeezed your shoulder where it rested. "okay," he said before placing a kiss on your temple. "i trust you."

the night continued on without much incident. cody got a little too drunk, but that was to be expected. your uncle, his wife, and your cousins all came by and said their hellos, but for the most part, you and mat just stayed at the table and talked.

it was moments like that when you forgot how easy it was to just be with him. you couldn't count the amount of times you found yourself sitting on his couch with your head in his lap, his hand in your hair, as you ranted about your shitty day at work or a frustrating phone call with your parents. days like that were typical with mat, because he made it so easy to just be.

you felt most like yourself when you were with him.

and sure it sounded a little codependent, but you were almost positive he was your other half.

but not in a romantic way.

never in a romantic way.

after all, he was way out of your league. the amount times he had women approach him at bars when the two of you went out were astronomical.

you were forever the friend, and you weren't really all that upset about it. so long as you had mat, you'd take him in whatever capacity he'd give you.

the night was quickly coming to an end. harper had cody's arm wrapped around her shoulder, assuring everyone she would be driving them home. mat's hand had found a new home on the small of your back as he guided you out and back towards the front door, following your parents who insisted on hugging every family member goodbye.

you felt your body lean into mat's touch and the side of his body, your own feeling drained and exhausted.

"hey," he leaned down and mumbled in your ear. "i'm gonna go to the bathroom, i'll meet you at the car?"

you looked up at him, faces close together. you were taken back to earlier when you almost kissed and for a moment, you found yourself imagining a world where you could. where you could lean up and figure out what chapstick he used.

"yeah," you stuttered out when it was clear you'd stayed quiet too long.

"great," he smiled before kissing your cheek and disappearing down the hallway.

you were immediately crowded by your mom, aunt, and to your displeasure, angela.

your cousin stumbled up to you with a bright smile on her face as both of your mothers talked to each other. "your friend was cute," she said. "wouldn't mind running away with him." she giggled, but you saw the truth in her eyes, the calculated stumbles and fake drunken smiles.

"oh, angie's had too much to drink," your aunt said, placing a hand on her shoulder. "you know how drunk people can be."

"i've always heard drunk words are sober thoughts," you stated.

your mom scoffed and waved a hand in the air. "oh honey, that's just a saying, angela doesn't mean what she says, not while she's intoxicated. after all, i have done plenty of things while drunk that i didn't mean in the morning."

you squinted at your mother, completely baffled by her excusing of angela. which, after all these years, shouldn't surprise you.

"what'd i miss?" mat popped back next to you like he was summoned.

"oh nothing--" your mother started.

"mat!" angela screamed, throwing her hands up in the air before wrapping them around his shoulders. "if i wasn't getting married tomorrow, i'd run away with you! it's too bad my cousin here didn't introduce us before!"

mat peeled her arms off his body and pushed her away as gently as he could. "before what? before you stole her high school boyfriend?"

what.

the hell.

angela's smile dropped right as your mom's and aunt's eyes widened. "and i'm not a fan of running." he grabbed your hand and pulled you out the front door, and waved down harper who was about to pull out of the driveway.

"we rode with my parents," you said, still in a daze from what he said.

"we're riding with harper and cody back," was all he said.

harper unlocked the doors for you and mat but didn't even bother asking why the two of you decided to switch rides.

the drive back to your childhood home was pretty quiet save for the country music playing softly over the radio. it wasn't your favorite genre, but you weren't going to complain.

by the time you made it home, you were exhausted. mat trailed you up the stairs after locking the front door behind him because harper mentioned something about taking cody back to their apartment instead of staying.

when he finally walked in the room, you were already changing out of your shorts. maybe it was a testament to how tired you were, or how long you had known each other that made you not give a shit about changing in front of him. you did, however, try to stay decent, so you waited until you had your pajama shirt on to remove your bra before sliding into bed.

mat had apparently walked out of the room to change while you had your back to the door because he came walking back in wearing basketball shorts and a tee shirt, like he did the other nights.

"you okay?" he asked, getting in to bed and sliding next to you. he bumped his shoulder with yours.

"why wouldn't i be?" but you wouldn't look him in the eyes.

"c'mon," he said. "you can be honest with me. i'm your best friend."

your eyes watered at his words, the ones he spoke in front of your family, and the ones he spoke just then. "thank you," was all you could get out.

he pulled you into his arms and for a moment, you were taken back to similar circumstances.

like when you watched marley and me. or when your neighbor with the cute dog moved away.

mat had always been there.

"what're you thanking me for?"

"no one's ever stood up to her like that."

mat scoffed. "i wasn't just gonna let her disrespect our relationship like that, real or fake." he kissed the top of your head. "i almost didn't say anything, wanted to keep the peace, but then i saw the look on your face and couldn't keep quiet."

"what look?"

"the kicked puppy look." you looked up at him as his thumb stroked a line on your cheek. something must've passed over your face because his thumb stopped its motion. "what?" you sighed and shook your head. "c'mon," he said. "you can tell me."

you sighed. "i just--i don't want her to take you away."

mat tilted your chin up and ducked his head down so your foreheads touched. "you're not gonna lose me, especially not to your cousin, okay?" you nodded. "i need to hear you say it, baby."

but how could you talk when he called you by pet names? how could you breathe when you could kiss him if you just lifted your chin.

damn.

did he know the effect he had on you?

"baby," he prompted.

"okay," you said. "i trust you."

"and that's all i ask." he kissed your forehead and pulled away, all too soon if anyone asked you. "now, let's watch a movie, i need to destress after tonight."

you settled into the pillows and laid your head on mat's chest as he scrolled through netflix with one hand; the other arm was wrapped around your back.

the wedding

the next two days were spent with you and mat walking around the city, nothing noteworthy happened.

but you woke up on the day of the wedding dreading what was to come.

the ceremony itself wasn't until that night, which gave you the entire day to worry about angela and mat.

his words should've comforted you, but you were too caught up in why you cared. he was your best friend, angela didn't want him that way. and mat was too loyal to let a girl come between your friendship, he never let it happen with his previous girlfriends.

but there would be times when you wouldn't be together that night. could you honestly expect mat to hang around the women's bathroom every time you needed to use it? you were lucky he got along with your brother and your grandmother as well as he did, but your grandmother would definitely leave early and cody would definitely ditch anyone in a heartbeat if it meant he'd get laid.

"you okay?" mat asked, placing his hands on your shoulders as you stared in the bathroom mirror. "you've been in here a minute. at first i thought you were taking a shit, but you left the door open." he rested his head on top of yours and made eye contact with you in the mirror.

"just stressed about tonight," you admitted.

"you got nothing to stress over, you got me, and we're not getting married. we'll just get drunk and party. sounds like a great time to me!"

"god, if i'm like this at someone else's wedding, i can't imagine what i'd be like at my own."

mat shrugged. "i wouldn't let you be stressed. i’d make sure to give you the wedding you want."

you pulled away and turned around, brows pulled together like attracting magnets. "wouldn’t that be weird though? you making sure my wedding was what i wanted?"

"considering it would be my wedding too, no i don't think it would be weird." he shrugged and said it so casually, you almost didn't register what he said. but when it sunk in, your cheeks heated up and you broke eye contact before lightly shoving him away.

"you're such a flirt," you said, hoping it wouldn't give away the way your heart raced in your chest.

"doesn't mean it isn't true!" he called after you. mat flicked on the fan and shut the door. "now watch a movie, i don't want you to hear me shit."

"we're not even in the same room, dipshit!" you laughed before heading back to your room and turning on netflix.

mat joined you after about ten minutes in the bathroom and the two of you watched a movie until your parents shouted from downstairs to start getting ready.

you got ready in the bathroom simply because that was where you makeup was. mat took the bedroom simply because it was easier. you put on your dress, fluffing out the ends to make sure no part of it was wrinkled before you started on your makeup.

you were finished rather quickly, mainly because mat kept calling your name like a child, waiting for you to fix his tie because he didn't know how to.

when you walked out of the bathroom, though, mat met you in the hallway. his eyes were focused on the tie in his hands until he heard the door open. he glanced up and his jaw dropped.

"fuck," he mumbled.

you could feel the heat going up your chest and your neck until it settled in your face. "do i look okay?"

mat swallowed and nodded. your normally chatty best friend was rendered speechless for the first time since you met him. he cleared his throat and gestured to you. "i knew buying that dress was a good move."

you rolled your eyes and smiled as you walked over to him. you took the tie out of his hand and wrapped it around his neck, tying a windsor knot until it was snug against his throat.

"i think you're trying to choke me."

you scoffed. "if you learned how to tie a tie, this wouldn't be a problem."

"if i learned how to tie a tie, i wouldn't have an excuse to be this close to you." his hands snaked around your waist and pulled your hips close to his.

"you should know you don't need an excuse to get close to me." you tried out the flirtation a little, unsure if he was joking or not, but given how his eyes lit up just a bit, you were pretty confident he was serious.

"baby--"

"sweetheart! we need to be leaving soon!" your mother called up the stairs.

you and mat sprung apart like the other had spontaneously caught on fire. neither of you would make eye contact too embarrassed to have been interrupted by your mother. though you couldn't meet each other's eyes, you managed to see mat gesture for you to go down the stairs first.

"you both look so cute!" your mother gushed as both you and mat entered the living room. "go stand in front of the fireplace! i have to get your picture."

you rolled your eyes. "mom, this isn't prom night." but mat was already tugging you over to where your mom was pointing and wrapping and arm around your waist.

your mom snapped a few pictures before hurrying the two of you and your father out the door. the wedding didn't start for another hour, but the venue was thirty minutes away and your mom wanted to make sure your aunt wasn't going to have an aneurysm.

mat held your hand as you walked down the front porch stairs towards the car. his grip was tight and firm. when you finally joined him on the sidewalk, you expected him to drop his hand, but he held onto it even tighter, lightly swinging it between your bodies.

he didn't let go until you got into the back seat of your mom's car.

he lightly chatted with your parents while you stared at the space between the two of you. the entire week had your mind whirling, you two were just friends, but sharing a bed, the physical closeness, the flirting, the near kisses, it was all driving you insane.

sure, you thought mat was good looking, but you'd long given up the hope that he'd ever like you. he was mat and you were you. even if there wasn't a large disparity between your perception of both of your physical attributes, you still would've felt the divide.

he was everything, practically your best friend.

and that alone was too important for you to risk on some juvenile feelings.

mat nudged you with his elbow. "you okay? you've been quiet."

you blinked back into the present, noting that your mother had turned on abba and was singing to dancing queen while your father hummed the tune under his breath. both of them were too distracted to notice or hear mat's question.

you nodded, meeting his eyes briefly before looking away, too scared to get caught in their orbit once more. "yeah," you said. "just thinking."

"uh oh. that's not good," he joked. but you didn't laugh. his face turned serious and he nudged you once more before grabbing your hand in his own. "you can tell me anything, you know that right?"

"of course," you replied.

he squeezed your hand twice and didn't let go until you got out of the car.

as your father pulled into the parking lot, you got a good view of the venue. a large building with tall windows and music blasting throughout the open doors.

once you got inside, your eyes were immediately overwhelmed by the visual stimulation of large flower arrangements everywhere with the most pricey looking lighting fixtures dangling from the ceiling.

it was extravagant, and everything you would've expected angela's wedding to look like.

"oh god," mat mumbled under his breath, loud enough just for you to hear. he leaned down, placing his hand on the small of your back. "remind me not to do this much at my wedding."

you rolled your eyes. "what if it's what your bride wants?"

he paused. "do you want something like this?"

"god no."

"then i don't need to worry."

you lightly shoved his shoulder. "quit joking."

"who said i was joking?" he asked.

you stared at him until your dad cleared his throat and reminded the two of you that you still needed to find your seats at the ceremony.

"honey," your mother grabbed your arm. "do you want to come with me to see angela? i'm just gonna check on her and your aunt to make sure everything is ready and together."

you were shaking your head before she could even finish getting the words out. "nope."

"honey, it's your cousin's wedding."

"and she didn't even make me a bridesmaid. i'm sure she'll be fine waiting until the reception to see me."

"i thought you weren't angry about that! i told you not to take it personal."

it took every ounce of will not to roll your eyes. mainly because mat was standing there, and if you let it slip how frustrated you were, he might step in and make your mom hate him. "i don't care, mom. but if she wanted me to see her before the wedding, she would've made her part of her bridal party. but she didn't so i'll see her when she walks down the aisle." with that off your chest, you grabbed mat's hand and marched towards the group of chairs where the ceremony would take place.

you quickly chose a seat close enough to see the actual ceremony happen without being too close that you could see angela promise her life away to the ex she stole from you.

"that was intense," mat commented. "you sure you're okay?"

you sighed and contemplated putting your face in your hands if it wasn't for the makeup you put on earlier. "i don't know why she wants me and angela to act like we're best friends, it's gone on like this for our entire lives, but it's never worked. angela has never liked me, and i'm tired of pretending like it's my fault. i don't even know what i did to make her constantly try to undermine me."

mat looked around before grabbing your hand and tugging you towards what you guessed were the bathrooms, away from the prying eyes of nosy guests.

"it's not your fault," he said, bending down so you could look each other in the eyes. "there's nothing wrong with you, either, okay? she's blind if she can't see how amazing you are. and your mom is wrong for trying to force a friendship. you understand?"

you nodded.

"i need to hear you say it, baby."

"i understand." a beat later. "thanks, mat."

he kissed your forehead and grabbed your hand. "anytime."

the two of you found your old seats taken by an older couple, so you sat in the same row as cody and harper who had shown up while you were gone.

the wedding started shortly thereafter with your parents joining you in the same row. your mother looked relatively calm for what you knew had to be a shitshow in the back room. angela was very particular, and while there was nothing wrong with that were it anyone else, your cousin's strong opinions often stressed your mother and aunt out.

the music started playing and the bridesmaids started walking down the aisle with the groomsmen and owen. you didn't recognize most of the girls, probably because you hadn't been around angela's friends since high school and you never came to her birthday parties after you graduated (not that she invited you anyway). the one bridesmaid you did recognize was meredith from the dress shop. she looked beautiful in her lilac dress. and her smile did nothing to giveaway what chaos the dressing room was in before she walked out.

with everyone in their places at the front, the music changed tune. every guest, including you, stood to their feet and turned around. everyone watched as the double doors opened and angela came walking down the aisle in a princess gown with her father escorting her.

she smiled brightly, probably basking in the attention she was receiving. she didn't even look at owen until she got close enough to the front that there was no one else for her to smile at.

i'd do it differently, you thought. when i get married, i won't be able to take my eyes off his face.

the officiant told everyone to sit and continued on with the ceremony. you mostly blocked it out, peering at mat who looked more interested in the ceremony than you were. he caught your stare a few times and smirked before grabbing hold of your hand and kissing the back of it.

and your heart soared every time.

mat was an affectionate friend, this much you knew. anytime you picked him up from a roadie, or when he came over after you just got back into town, he'd hold you in a death grip hug for five minutes at the very least. most of the hugs involved the two of you swaying side to side with mat mumbling how much he missed you into your neck.

all that to say, you weren't a stranger to his affection.

you were, however, unused to the kisses and pet names, all of which started as soon as you introduced him to your family.

it was the crowd cheering that startled you out of your stupor. you glanced at the front to see owen dipping angela in a kiss while the photographer captured the moment.

and maybe it was the bitterness in your chest speaking for the teenager who lost her first serious boyfriend, but the kiss itself looked more performative than like true love.

mat extended a hand to you when you realized everyone was standing and heading to the tables to eat.

"you alright?" he asked once your hand was secured in his own. "you keep zoning out."

you shrugged. "just thinking."

"about?"

"how do you know if you love someone?" you asked, replaying angela and owen's kiss in your mind. you were so preoccupied, you didn't notice mat scratching the back of his head and blushing.

"well, you uh," he stuttered. "why're you asking me? haven't you been in love before?"

he wouldn't meet your eyes, his own kept focusing on avoiding bumping into people as you made your way to an open table. mat pulled your chair out and didn't sit down until you did.

"i don't know," you continued on. "i thought i was, but i never saw forever with those guys."

"thank god," he mumbled.

"what?"

he looked up all doe eyed and innocent. "hm?"

"what did you say?"

he shrugged. "i didn't say anything. you must be hearing things."

you rolled your eyes, but the smile on your lips said you weren't really bothered by his lies.

cody and harper joined you at the table; your parents took the last two seats. all six of you sipped at the water on the table and waited for your dinners to be ready.

"so," harper started. "what did everyone think of the ceremony?"

you could've groaned, not because you weren't interested in weddings, you loved them.

just not angela's.

and talking about all the beautiful aspects of it sounded like a violation of your eighth amendment rights.

"oh it was so gorgeous, she looked fantastic," your mother supplied, fawning over your cousin as usual. but it was when she looked around the room before she leaned into the table that your attention was piqued. "patty was scared the wedding would need to be called off. said something about how owen was getting cold feet, she wouldn't say why though."

were you a horrible person for internally rejoicing at angela's possible stressor?

maybe just a little.

but you'd taken the high road your entire life. so in your opinion, it was warranted and earned.

mat nudged your knee with his. "at least look concerned," he mumbled with a smirk playing on his lips.

"i do! i am!" you said just loud enough for him to hear. mat looked at you until you cracked under his gaze. "okay, so i might be just a little smug, sue me."

he rolled his eyes, but the smile playing on his lips said he was far from annoyed.

your family continued to make idle chatter until the dj started announcing the bridal party. it wasn't anything that hadn't been done before; the bridesmaids and groomsmen danced their way into the room. moments later, angela and owen came in with their hands riased and cheering along with everyone else. your entire table joined in with the other guests and clapped and hollered until it was no longer socially acceptable.

dinner came out shortly thereafter.

again, it was nothing that hadn't been done before. a simple pasta dish with a side salad wasn't anything to celebrate. the food was absolutely delicious, you wouldn't lie about that, it was just interesting that angela, who prided herself on being different, had planned a party that didn't even crack your top ten favorite weddings.

but she'd never sought your approval anyway, so why would she start now?

you were shocked out of your intense thoughtfulness by an arm wrapping around your shoulder. mat didn't even look phased as he pulled you just a little closer to him, talking with your dad about the upcoming season like they'd been friends for ages.

the weight of his arm was comforting, reminding you of times he'd slung it across your shoulders after a game and pressed a kiss to your temple or when you sat next to each other at bars.

others had looked at your relationship with a microscope. sydney and grace both had asked multiple times if there was something more with the two of you and looked skeptical whenever you gave them a funny look while saying no.

he was your best friend, always would be so long as you never fucked anything up.

"how's your pasta?" mat asked.

you blinked. "same as yours."

he rolled his eyes yet again and kissed your temple. "smart ass," he mumbled against your skin.

dinner was barely over when music started playing, marking the sign of the first dance. angela and owen danced to "can't help falling in love" while everyone looked on. they didn't talk, they seldom even smiled until, like they were suddenly struck by electricity, they remembered they were being photographed and had all eyes on them.

you bided your time, sipping the water in your glass, because you knew mat was gonna drag your ass onto the dance floor like he had before at other parties and weddings.

sure enough, as soon as the song ended and the party music started, mat's hand was in yours, tugging you towards the center of the floor.

you dragged your feet as a front, just wanting to prolong the feeling of his palm encircling your own. you didn't know the name of the song, just like you didn't understand the light feeling in your stomach when mat pulled you close and placed his hands on your waist.

"in case i forgot to tell you," he shouted into your ear over the pumping music. "you look really pretty tonight."

you could feel the heat crawl up your neck. you ducked your head so you couldn't see him, but he pulled your chin up to look him in the eyes.

"don't get shy on me now," he teased, though his eyes weren't full of mirth like they usually were. they were soft, like sunlight filtered through a bedroom window. "come dance with me."

the two of you danced, hips shaking and moving to the beat of the music. mat always had a grip on you, whether he was twirling you around or had both hands on your hips.

you couldn't remember ever having this much fun at a wedding.

who would've thought it would've been angela's wedding?

but the music slowed down, usually signaling that it was your time to sit back down until hey ya! came on. so you made a move to step off the dance floor and head back to where your brother sat nursing a glass of bourbon, but it was a callused hand that kept you in place.

"where do you think you're going, baby?" he asked, a smirk playing on his lips. "you owe me a dance."

you hesitated, knowing that in the past, you'd danced the night away, but with him here, in front of your family, with your grandmother giving you a smile, you didn't know you could fake it any longer. you couldn't keep pretending that you weren't completely infatuated, overcome with love for your best friend.

your hand would've started shaking had he not had a steady grip on you.

mat pulled you close. "c'mon, i won't even step on your toes. i promise."

you relented and let him pull you back into the middle of the floor. he placed his hands on your waist and, for a moment, you thought you were dreaming. in another life, you'd be wearing white and be the prettiest person in the room. in another life, you'd have matching gold bands on your fourth fingers.

in another life, he'd be yours.

you wrapped your hands around the back on his neck, playing with the hair there absentmindedly.

"you're far away," he said. "come back to earth for a minute. what're you thinking about?"

you shrugged. "wondering if i'll ever get this," you answered honestly, even going as far as looking him in the eyes as you spoke.

"you'll get it," he said without a doubt in the world to be found. "i'll make sure of it."

"what about you? do you want something like this?"

he glanced around the room, eyes landing on the newly married couple in the center. "not if i'm not marrying you."

you blinked, heart in your throat. he looked so honest, but you'd known him long enough, seen who he's dated too many times, to know he was joking.

he had to be.

right?

so you laughed, closing your eyes and tilting your head back so that you unintentionally missed the small look of confusion married with hurt on mat's face. you did it to protect yourself, to keep yourself from getting hurt, and unintentionally hurting him in the process.

"i can never tell when you're joking, barzy," you smiled, hoping it covered the shake in your voice.

"but i--"

"may i cut in?" you glanced to your left and saw your smiling grandmother.

"oh i--" mat stuttered, flustered in a way you'd never seen before.

"sure!" you interrupted his train of thought. "i have to pee anyway."

besides, mat was probably safest with her anyway. angela wouldn't try anything while your grandmother was standing there.

you stepped away, waist feeling cold from the lack of contact and made your way towards the bathrooms.

it wasn't that hard to find the restroom, it was just a longer hallway. but it was far enough from the reception that the music was only a faint bass noise.

you walked into the bathroom and did your business. fluffing your hair and fixing your dress in the mirror when you'd finished washing your hands. you opened the door and saw shiny black shoes before you saw the man standing across from the woman's bathroom.

"owen?" you asked. "the men's bathroom is a little further down the hall."

"i know," he said, pushing off the wall to move closer to you.

red flag.

"what?" you asked, moving slightly out of the way so he couldn't push you back into the bathroom. "have you been drinking?"

"sober as a judge."

you furrowed your brows. "what?"

he took another step closer to you while you quickly turned so your back was no longer against a wall, but towards the party. if he kept advancing towards you, the weird tension would soon be out in the open and surely he would stop then.

right?

"i'm sorry for what i did back in high school."

"owen, what are you talking about?"

"for cheating on you. you're all i've ever wanted and it's my biggest regret to this day that i ever let you go."

you were gonna be sick.

"owen, you don't know what you're talking about. you love angela. you got married to angela. she is your wife."

"but i want you." he reached out to touch your hair but you backed up quick enough to just miss his hand.

"no you don't," you said. "you decided i wasn't enough nearly ten years ago."

"but you looked so good and so happy with him, with max or whatever his name is--"

"--mat--"you corrected.

"--it made me miss us. don't you miss me?"

"i don't even know who you are anymore, owen! that person you knew in high school isn't me anymore, and you don't get to decide you want me now just because i'm happy and you aren't."

"we were so good together!"

"we were sixteen, owen! we were children."

"but--"

"i gave you just about everything i could possibly give, and you decided it wasn't enough. you decided to get with my cousin while we were dating instead of breaking up with me. you decided to marry her. and now you get to live with that decision." you spun on your heel and were met with mat's stare. even in the dim lighting, you could see his jaw clenched.

"mat," you breathed like it was your last breath.

"you okay?" he asked.

"yeah," you said. "just telling owen where the bathroom was."

you both knew it was a lie, especially if the look on mat's face was any indication, he'd probably heard enough of the conversation. you allowed yourself to be guided back to the recpetion with mat's hand firmly placed on the small of your back.

you two kept dancing until it was time to send angela and owen off. while mat gathered your things, you said goodbye to your extended family members because you two were leaving tomorrow afternoon to head back to new york.

which scared you.

this last week had been amazing. pretending and playing house with mat meant unlocking feelings you'd pretended didn't exist for the entire duration of your friendship. and while you wished you'd never unlocked pandora's box, part of you was happy you could never go back.

a warm and weathered hand tugged on your forearm and snapped you out of your reverie. "don't let that boy go." when you looked down, your grandmother was staring at you with earnest eyes. "he loves you the way you deserve to be loved."

your eyes welled up with tears as you hugged her. "thanks, grandma."

"i mean it. don't come back without him, you hear me? i need great grand babies soon."

you flushed at the idea and whined. "please don't tell me you said that to him!"

but she didn't answer you, she just laughed.

"you ready?" mat asked, walking over with your brother and harper following closely behind. "cody said he'd give us a ride home."

"treat my baby right, mathew," your grandmother said. "or else i'll have to fly to new york and kill you, you hear?"

he smiled. "yes ma'am."

you hugged your grandmother tight. "i love you."

"love you more."

mat ushered you outside, following behind cody and harper to their car. none of you were interested in the send off, even if was only going to take a few seconds.

the four of you got into cody's car and drove off before your parents could admonish you for leaving early. cody and harper talked amongst themselves about bills and what their own wedding would look like whenever cody proposed (and if you knew him like you thought you did, it would be soon) while you and mat just held hands in the backseat.

it was weird, the physical touch even when no one was looking. but you weren't complaining about it, if anything, you were clinging to it, scared that once it finally ended you'd go into withdrawal.

cody parked outside of your parents house and let you and mat in before driving off. you headed upstairs, with mat on your tail, ready to get undressed and to curl up in bed with a stupid movie.

"that was fun," mat said. "did you have fun?"

you sat down on your bed and started taking off your shoes. "i always have fun when i'm with you," you said absentmindedly. a moment of silence passed. you looked up to see mat shifting from side to side. "are you okay?"

"what did owen want?" he asked honestly.

you sighed and stood up, walking towards him. "i'm not even sure. he started professing how much he missed me, but i shut it down because i don't have feelings for him."

a glimmer of hope. "you don't?"

"nope."

he nodded. "good."

you took a deep breath and stepped closer to him. "i could never go through with it anyway, i'm in love with someone else." please please please don't let this past week be a joke to him. please let him be a horrible actor.

he stared at you.

a moment of silence.

his eyes searched your own, like they were looking for something.

you could feel the tears well up in your eyes at the thought of his rejection. you'd take being heartbroken, but you couldn't take losing your best friend.

and then.

his hands were on your cheeks, his lips were on yours, and your heart had jumped into your throat. your arms wrapped around his neck and into his hair.

when you finally broke apart for air, mat was smiling. "i'm guessing you were talking about me?" he asked, though the smug tone in his voice said he didn't actually need to know the answer. not when the kiss had already confirmed his suspicions.

"you're such an ass," you jokingly shoved him away, but he caught your hand and used it to pull you back in, to kiss you once more.

"but this ass loves you." he paused. "that sounded a lot more romantic in my head than it did coming out."

but you smiled anyway. "this ass loves you too, barzy."

and two years later, standing in front of everyone in a white dress, you couldn't help but smile. lying usually got you in trouble, but you couldn't have imagined a better ending.

[inkykeiji]

clari im watching ep 1 of stranger things 4 as we speak and i just saw your post! eddie has my heart also :’) im an hour in to the first episode and ive ordered a Hellfire Club tshirt…. whoops!

omg!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

stranger things 4 vol 1 episode 1 spoilers under the cut!

EDDIE IS SOOOOO CUTE PLEASE and i flippin loved him with chrissy like :((((( they were soooo so so cute together!!! that’s like one of my favourite tropes everrrr waaah like good girl/bad boy 🥺🥺🥺 so precious!!!! i really wanted them to get together!! :( but YES eddie is actually precious and i’m totally in love with his fashion style!!! i’m actually so jealous you ordered a shirt omg!!! what the heck i want one toooooo that’s so cute hehe i love merch like that; like merch that is subtle and if you know you know type stuff aah <33

god like episode one actually made me tear up multiple times because it deals with such real life teenage issues. my boyfriend was like ‘damn, this is scaring me more than the monsters’ LMAO but AH this season is SO good and it’s actually so fucking terrifying!? like this season definitely feels a lot more horror than any of the other seasons!! i love it!!!

[runnning-outof-time]

Omggg congrats on 3.5k!! That’s incredible! Duuuude this short prompt blurb challenge is gonna blow up! For me, would you be open to doing one with Tommy, using the prompt sentence, “Look at me right now”? He sure can be demanding when he wants something lolol🥰🥵again, congratulations dear! You deserve all the love!

Oh thank you so much for sending this in @tragiclotus ! You’re so right - he really can be! I hope you like what I did with this, and that you’ve been enjoying the blurbs I’ve been sharing! Enjoy! :)

PLEASE LET ME KNOW WHAT YOU THINK!

Part of my 3.5k celebration — find more stories here!

No One But You

Tommy Shelby x Reader

Warnings: self-doubt, worry of past lovers returning…nothing too major

Word Count: 1018

Summary: Tommy assures (Y/N) that she’s the only woman he wants after two women from his past reappear in his life.

She must’ve read the return address a dozen times. Why? She didn’t know. It wasn’t like reading it again was going to make the sender’s name change. But yet she did anyway.

(Y/N) knew who Grace was. She’d heard about her; knew what she’d done to Tommy and his family. So why the hell was she sending him letters now?

At first she spoke to Polly, who told her to hide them. As a clerk at the postmaster’s office, she’d make sure to bring any mail the Shelbys received with her whenever she’d come to visit her boyfriend. When she’d arrive at Watery Lane, she’d follow the older woman’s suggestion and promptly slip the envelope into one of the side table’s drawers; hoping that Tommy wouldn’t find them there. But they just kept coming.

And now as she was walking to Watery Lane with what was the fifth letter Grace had sent, she didn’t know if she could keep up with hiding them. So instead she kept it in her hands, re-reading it until she heard the door open.

She stood to her feet at the sound and walked over to greet her boyfriend, accepting his kiss and shoulder squeeze as a greeting. Tommy knew something was wrong the second he pulled away. (Y/N) wasn’t wearing her usual, welcoming smile. Instead, her expression was blank.

“Has something happened?” he asked her, his brows furrowing together.

“This came in to the post today,” she answered him, extending her hand to hold the envelope out between them.

Tommy’s brows furrowed deeper as he scanned over the words written on the envelope.

“Why does she keep writing you?” (Y/N) couldn’t stop herself from asking, desperate to know why he was still receiving letters from her.

She and Tommy had entered a relationship only five months ago, but she was no stranger to the life that he lived and the company he’d kept in the past. Tommy Shelby was sought after by many, and somehow she’d gotten lucky…or at least that’s what she kept telling herself. No matter how many times his actions reassured her that he was hers alone, that nagging seed of doubt still crept into her mind. Like it was doing now.

“I don’t know why,” he answered with a shake of his head, “I haven’t spoken to her since she left for New York.”

“She’s written to you five times,” (Y/N) couldn’t withhold the information any longer. Tommy’s brows furrowed again upon hearing her admission, so she decided to elaborate: “Polly said that I shouldn’t give them to you; that I should hide them instead. They’re in the side table. I don’t know why I listened to her. I just…I couldn’t bring myself to give them to you.”

Tommy looked down at the letter and back to (Y/N), seeing that she was now biting on her lip, a nervous tendency of hers that he’d noticed fairly early into their relationship.

“May Carleton also came to meet you last week…” she spoke again after silence had hung in the air for a few moments.

“She needed to speak about the horse,” he answered in a nonchalant manner, not thinking much more of the meeting he had with the other woman.

(Y/N), of course, was overthinking it.

“Hey…” Tommy brought her out of her thoughts, making her focus on him again. “I can see you fighting with yourself. Let those thoughts go.”

“I can’t…I just can’t help but wonder if maybe, if maybe that, that with them coming back…” she tried to speak but her mind betrayed her, and the lump that formed in her throat stopped her from speaking altogether.

Not much more was needed to connect the dots though. The clues had been dropped and Tommy was quick enough to pick them up and place them in order. “Those women are in the past, (Y/N). You’re the one I want,” he spoke with sincereity, hoping that it’d quell the thoughts swirling around her mind.

(Y/N) held eye contact with him until she couldn’t anymore. She felt those worries still bubbling up inside of her, even though he’d just flat out told her that he wanted her. She dropped her gaze to her fingers, watching as she picked at her nails.

“(Y/N)…” Tommy tried to get her attention, but to no avail. “Look at me right now,” he went another route, using his index and middle finger to raise her eyes to his again. He could see that they were watery now, and he hated that she was thinking so far into this. He took her cheeks into his hands, pulling her the slightest bit closer to him before speaking again. “There’s no one but you, ok? You’re the one I want to be with. You’re the one I want,” he reiterated his point, his eyes searching hers as he spoke. “Ok?” he asked again after she hadn’t spoken in a few moments.

“Ok,” (Y/N) breathed out, nodding her head the best she could with it held in his hands. She closed her eyes for a moment and took a deep breath, hoping to steady herself. When she opened them again, they immediately hooked onto Tommy’s intense blue ones. “I’m sorry, Tommy,” she felt that she had to apologize.

“Don’t be,” he shook his head slightly at her statement, “there’s no reason for you to be sorry, love.”

“But I…”

“No,” he cut her off, “I’m going to burn this letter, and any other letter that comes. You’re the one I want, (Y/N).”

A small smile formed on her face at his words. She reached out and gently ran the back of her hand down his cheek, watching as his eyes dropped to her lips. Knowing what was coming next, she closed her eyes, leaning in slightly and meeting him in the middle, their lips finding each other’s in a passionate kiss that rid her mind of all of her doubts.

“No one but you, love,” Tommy whispered against her lips before kissing them again.

Tagged: @mystcldydrms @the-anxious-youth @cloudofdisney @look-at-the-soul @elenavampire21 @mrsalwayswrite @julkaamazing @evita-shelby @lilyrachelcassidy @notyour-valentine @shelbydelrey @theshelbyslimited @peakyswritings @just-a-blackhole @watercolorskyy @strayrockette @peakyduchesss @alexxavicry @captivatedbycillianmurphy @yummycastiel @dark-academia-slut @tommystargirl @stevie75 @lyarr24 @signorellisantichrist @zablife @anotherblinder @midnightmagpiemama @cillmequick @rangerelik @dandelionprints @letal-y-poetica @gypsy-girl-08 @insanitybyanothername @depxiety @raincoffeeandfandoms @dragons-are-my-favorite @youtifulsunshinelixfics @forgottenpeakywriter @cljordan-imperium @areyenotfondofmelobster @little-diable @thomashelbyswife @iambored24601 @shaddixlife

MASTERLIST

[plutoccult]

MY LOVE MINE ALL MINE

pairing: jean kirstein x female reader

description: a few years after the successful peace negotiations, you and jean celebrate his first birthday with your new baby boy, but jean can’t help but look back on what it took to get to this day after dreaming of it as much as he could hope to live without breathing.

word count: 1.2k

also available to read on my ao3 here

author’s note: something short and sweet that’s not soul crushing angst. a shocker on my end, really. BUT, the attack on titan anime has finally ended. it’s like a chapter of my life is over, but a chapter ending only means a new one beginning. i always wanted to write something that depicted some sort of event after the end of the story, so it’s nice to fully bring that vision into fruition. i love writing for jean and i’ll miss him and the rest of the characters so very much, but the writing doesn’t end here for me! more content will come out of me until i get bored of it. i do, however, hope you enjoy this little fluff piece.

when dreaming about what life could be without titans or any worries, jean always knew what the perfect life would be for him. it was always consisted of the same fantasy; sitting out on a balcony with a glass of the finest liquor in hand, wife inside the house, and a newborn baby with the cutest, most innocent smile in his wife’s arms. the ideal daydream used to have a faceless woman, then mikasa took over for a brief second after being struck by her upon their first meeting, but now it’s been the same face for many, many years. since falling head over feet completely, jean could now only picture his future with you bearing his love and his children, and only that would be the perfect life for him. nothing else, just you.

sometimes jean wondered what life would be like if marco were still around. who would have died in his place instead of him that day? who would’ve had to deal with the pain of losing their best friend instead of him? would he live next door to jean’s dream home and babysit the kids whenever? jean liked to imagine marco as the perfect uncle. uncle marco. if only it could all be real. even so, all these years later, he was grateful for the life he had been given.

after years of hell fighting for the greater good, jean was finally able to settle down and live that perfect life he so desperately craved in his youth. he wasn’t very young anymore; small wrinkles began to form, his muscles grew tired far more easily, signs that he was starting to grow old, but not quite just yet. there was still more life to live, so much more he could live for.

today was jean’s birthday, and just like his teenage fantasies, he sat on a balcony with a glass of whiskey just as he imagined. the view of the town he lived in was great, but not the greatest. the only difference between jean’s dreams and his reality that there wasn’t a barrier between him and what he wanted most; you, holding your little baby boy in your arms.

caught in the middle of daydreaming, you emerge from inside the house and join jean on the balcony with your son. you gently grab the baby’s hand and pretend to act like he’s the one waving to jean, which makes him smile.

“does baby marco want to say hi to daddy?” you coo while jean looked at the two of you in awe. naming your child after marco was always in the cards, neither of you doubted it for a second when you both expressed wanting children. it was just the most beautiful thing in the world when he was finally born, after all this time of knowing what you wanted.

“here, lemme hold him.” jean offered, extending his arms out for baby marco. you carefully hand him over then sit down and watch as the infant reached his hands out to grab jean’s face, who was gently cradling him in his arms. “he’s getting so big now, i can’t even believe it.”

“i know.” you say with a smile on your face. “by the way, some letters came in the mail for you.”

“from who?” he questioned.

“armin and mikasa, of course. reiner and pieck too.” you began to ramble, listing off the names of all who sent letters for jean on his birthday. “oh, can’t forget connie. and then levi sent something that gabi and falco seemed to have signed—”

“so… pretty much everyone?” jean interrupted with a chuckle.

“queen historia as well.” you end off the list, giggling to yourself for forgetting such an important name. you simply can’t forget the queen, after all. “oopsie.”

“well, i oughta write everyone back as soon as possible.” he said, but you disagreed.

“you can write after cake, okay? i’ll go grab it now.” you say, standing up from your seat so you could head inside of the house.

“i told you i could make it.” jean insisted. “i don’t like making you do the work for me.”

although his words were sweet, you wouldn’t do that to him today out of all days. “make your own birthday cake? please. i’ll be right back.”

jean sat with baby marco close to him while you disappeared into the house for his birthday treat. you come back with a cake that has an array of lit candles, gently setting it down on the table as far away from the baby as possible. you take the baby out of jean’s hands while you sing happy birthday to him and sit across the table, your voice as soothing as the breeze.

when it was time for jean to blow out the candles and make a wish, he simply couldn’t think of anything to wish for. he finally had everything he ever wanted; the love of his life, a family of his own, and most importantly, peace. you both fought like hell a million times over to get here, doing things you regretted all the time. the past you shared together was ridden with sin, but the future didn’t have to be, and right now, the future was bright and golden like daylight.

if there was anything to possibly wish for, it was for things to stay just like this, so jean closed his eyes and blew out the candles and wished just for that. his eyes opened up to the sight of you and your son, and he was so happy to see it right in front of him.

“happy birthday, jean.” you say softly. baby marco beamed with the most innocent grin, his youthful laugh almost bringing jean to tears.

“thank you, my love.” he mustered up the words to say without crying.

jean insisted he cut the cake himself. seeing as you made it, this was the least he could do, and you didn’t argue. he sliced a piece for you first and set it down in front of you, watching as baby marco eyed the cake in complete awe.

jean’s eyes stray away from cutting his own piece as he found himself watching you with the baby. you were trying to eat your cake, but you couldn’t help but laugh at marco trying to get some of it from your fork.

“ah, no, no, no. you can’t have cake.” you coo, booping baby marco on the nose.

it was times like these that made jean so grateful. he captured even the smallest grain of a moment, cherishing every single one with the thought that tomorrow is not always promised, even when you two were free of the burdens of a solider saving humanity. no matter how many times he made a wish on some candies, there was always that “what if?” thought in the back of his brain that this some day would be taken away from him.

you look up and catch jean staring at you as if he were frozen, like he was taking a million pictures with his eyes. “what are you doing?”

“remembering this.” he simply replied, the best way he could put it all into words.

the love you had for each other and the life that’s been given to you would always be yours, all yours, and it would last beyond the very last breath both of you would take. in the end, all of the hardships were worth living to see this day.

© plutoccult / 310802. please do not copy, repost, modify, or translate any of my content in or outside of tumblr. reblogs are appreciated <3

[buckysegan]

With all my gratitude, hope and adoration John.

Summary: Everyone deserves a letter from home. John x She. Word Count: 785. A/N: we are def rolling with some historical inaccuracies in regards to letters here but sue me. he deserves it. Part Two.

"mail boys!"

the familiar call sounded through the bunks and bucky didn't even bother to lift his head from where he had been watching crank deal out the cards. he didn't need to look, he never needed to look because there had never been any mail for him. it was a well known fact among the boys, something none of them seemed brave enough to comment on. and john? well he wasn't the type that was going to dwell on such a thing with anyone other than buck.

"buck another one for you, brady, one for me....bucky." the silence that took over was almost immediate as his name was called and for a moment he almost didn't want to look, terrified how he may react if he found a smirk on murph's face. instead he was greeted with absolute sincerity and just as every other face in the bunk did, his pulled into a picture of confusion as he moved to swipe the letter, blue eyes quick to inspect the penmanship.

there it was, as clear as day, his name. lifting it to his nose the way he had seen each man do it sniffed, the rounds of taunts flying from the boys over some secret broad he'd had hidden away from them all. not that the major was listening, already retreating to his bunk with the piece of paper as buck silenced the rest of them, sending them on their way to read their own letters as he watched with quiet concern for his best friend.

he had known john long enough to know he wasn't the pen pal type, but he'd also seen the change, the longing for something that the rest of them had. it wasn't anything he had ever expected of his john, ever the class clown so he was as confused as the rest of the crew.

none were more confused than john though, as he tore, with gentleness he had long since reserved for the touch of a woman, wondering who the hell had wrote him.

"dear major egan..."

Dear Major Egan,

It's odd I find, to be writing a letter to someone when your name and rank is all I know of you. It feels terribly impersonal and honestly I'm not sure how this letter will be received so I am sorry if this feels like an intrusion on your day but the thing is...

Well the truth Major, is that it seems to have been noted that during your time in England you have yet to receive a letter. When I learnt that fact my heart broke a little and not with pity I assure you, but any man fighting for home deserves something to hold onto. You may have that, I hope you do, but just in case I wanted to offer you some form of peace.

I am with you Major Egan, for as long as it takes you to get back home. There is someone out there praying for you every night, someone waiting on your soul to make it back. I know not what your favorite warm meal is, nor what you sound like, I know not what you look like or what makes you laugh, but I would like to learn all of those things should you wish to write back at all.

In return I shall share all those things about myself and anything else should you wish to know any of it. Oh they tell me your name is John, may I call you John next time? I'm going to do it anyway.

With all my gratitude, hope and adoration John

A friend from home x

he wasn't aware the tears had welled as he finished the letter. really bucky had almost forgotten what it was like to cry. but as he scanned the page, again and again and again, he couldn't bring himself to stop the tear that spilled over his cheek, even with the silence he could feel around him again as the boys grew curious once more.

"who was it john?" the gentle voice of his best friend broke through the fourth rerun of the words, the blonde stepping forward so that the answer could stay between them.

blue eyes lifted to meet hazel, with a smile he knew that he hadn't worn in weeks really. one not dissimilar to the smile he had given buck when he had seen him behind that fence. "i - i have a friend from home." someone, somewhere was waiting for him, someone somewhere, had given him what he had forgotten about in this war. hope. she was with him and unless god himself tried to stop him john egan was going to make it home.

[fuxuannie]

❥﹒even if i wont remember it, your name will forever be my favorite.

✦. synopsis — dan feng was a man who held your heart in his gentle hands, but now you're forced to accept you'll never see him again, atleast the one you knew.

✦. love mail — 💌 i always come back (lie), im trying once again to coming into writing but i really wanna wanna try again eahueauha

✦. tags — i havent written in 500 years, dan feng x reader, not really a dan heng x reader, mentions of dan feng, xianzhou arc spoilers, minor dan heng backstory spoilers

"What'll it be for tomorrow?"

You smile as you watch Dan Feng make you a flower-crown, sitting across to him as his face is nothing but focused on such a silly task. And though it seemed out of character for him, he did it for you. He'd do anything for you if you asked.

"Can we make a cake?"

You watched him raise a brow, "A cake?" and you nod. "A cake."

He sighs through your soft giggles, ones that could even bring a Vidyadhara's heavy heart at ease. "You do know it is tomorrow, right."

His sentence sounds more like a statement, a matter-of-fact. Which it was.

You simply hoped it hadn't been.

He looks away when he hears you sniffle, his heart aching further when it was followed by dry and bitter laughter. "I know."

"But what's a birthday without a cake, right?"

He shakes his head, smiling softly. "Are you saying it's my birthday tomorrow?"

"It could be, how would you want to look at it?"

There's silence exchanged for a few moments.

"Anything but the day I'm taken away from you."

Those words sting more than you would've thought they should.

You want to beg for him to run, to escape away with you and explore the galaxy you were oh-so curious about. But here you sit, across to him, a crumpling flower crown in his hand as he squeezes it with such intensity. Two of you well aware that his fate is one written within the stars, once he committed the unforgivable act of granting immortality - he knew he was bound to face Sedition.

"Dan Feng.." "Hm?"

If you told him now, would it matter? If you spilled out your heart and your blood for him, would it matter if he wouldn't remember?

You hold your tongue and instead shift over to lean on his shoulder, sighing in what seemed to be disappointment. "It's only a shame we won't do things like this anymore.." And the click of his tongue followed by an 'mhm' means he shares your mutual thoughts.

"But.. I hope by some chance, even if impossible, you'll still turn your head when my name is called."

He cleared his throat, "You see that?"

And in return, you smiled. "Every single time."

When you arrived the moment Jing Yuan called to visit the Scalegore Waterscape, he sees how you refuse to look straight ahead and sighs. "I understand if you're afraid, you don't have to accompany me."

But thinking about all those what ifs, the ideas that clouded your thoughts all those years - you just wanted them to end. You wanted to hear the answer you've longed for, that you feel like you deserve to know. "No, I do."

The General watched as your footsteps picked up the pace, approaching the figure that stands in front of you - so familiar yet unfamiliar. You reached your hand out for his shoulder in a fit of desperation; "Those horns and tail wouldn't have belonged to anyone else,

And yet,

"Dan-"

It doesn't seem right."

You pause when he turns around, his gaze lack of the warmth you've missed for so long. You choke on your own words, "Dan-" You repeat once more, but you know it isn't him. You know that the man that you came all the way for was not the Dan Feng you knew.

"-Heng." He finished for you, his hand putting yours away in a dismissive manner. "I'm sorry but-"

"You're not him."

He notices how your head is hung low, but tears fall towards the ground below, darkening the sand with your pitiful state. "Sorry, I understand." You apologized, but you knew that Dan Feng wouldn't have wanted you to cry like this, at least not over him.

..

"Dan Heng, right?"

When you meet his gaze, he feels oddly.. entranced by you, and though your eyes were tear filled - he found your expression still kind.

"Mine is (name). I hope that I'm able to know you better, past who Dan Feng was."

"You have a wonderful name." Seeing Dan Heng smile so warmly tugs on your heart strings, as it was like staring at Dan Feng all over again - that smile that never left your mind since his Sedition, but you knew it was Dan Heng's smile. No longer his.

No longer who was once yours.

[zialltops]

honeysuckle’s & huckleberry’s

Cowboy!Joel (41) X F!Reader (25) | 42.1k words | wip | explicit | 18+ minors dni | enemies to lovers | slow burn | au: no cordyceps outbreak | oral (f receiving) | (semi) public sex | vaginal fingering

masterlist | ao3 | spotify playlist

“In just—“ His eyes slip closed when his mouth connect with the inside of your wrist. His lips are warm and so tender you fight down a soft whimper at the intoxicating sensation. When they open again, dangerous amber irises peer back at you like you’re their salvation. “-my cowboy hat.”

Oh—fuck.

a/n: this chapter was so fun to write, I accidentally made it 9.5k words lol, but it was such a relief (ish) to write. Some new warning apply to this chapter, so please be advised of those. We get to see a whole new side to Joel this chapter and we’ll get to see some “in the making of” this chapter in the following one. A little bit of context on why Joel changes so abruptly and the reasoning behind his decisions. I hope you all know how much i love love love you guys for being here for me while i struggle to find time to write. I’m working on getting back on my feet every day and this is the one safe place I have to escape and indulge in my favorite coping mechanism. Much love, H 🤍

Chapter 7–You Don’t Want That Smoke

Your birthday falls on Friday this year, (lucky you) but it also means the First Friday dance falls on your birthday this year as well. It’s the first community event after the cold winter months and by that time, most people are itching to get out of their snow-buried homes. The town usually puts on the event to celebrate the coming spring, hosting venders of all sorts and games for the families. Growing up, your parents would take you to the petting zoo and let you ride the ponies, like you didn’t have a horse at home, like there wasn’t a whole ranch to attend to, animals to raise up and sell, like you could just for a moment, be a normal little girl from a quiet street who’d never sat in a saddle in her life.

If only that had been the case, ever. If only you’d had parents who pursued safe, reliable careers, where they had pensions and retirement, insurance and benefits, instead of breaking their backs for a ranch that had been dying long before it was left to your mother by her parents. Was it obligation that kept them here, or was it something else? Was it the same thing that got you through years of college, all in an attempt to keep your parents' dream alive for a little while longer?

It’s Wednesday, which means you have two more days before your birthday and Melly’s plane lands in a few hours from Colorado, but so far your morning has taken you five rounds in the octagon and is currently coming back for more.

“—No! The statements I just got in the mail yesterday said we have ninety days to come up with three months worth of the mortgage before the property faces foreclosure.”

The woman on the other end of the phone sighs at you and you can hear the way her hands hit her keyboard. “I know that, ma’am, but that was a month and a half ago and we still have not received any payments. The bank sent another letter, requesting that the entire six month worth of back payments be received by the end of the ninety days or the property will be foreclosed on.”

The routinely scripted response feels like an open handed slap to the face, white hot pain snapping through your veins like lightning on the Wyoming plains. You sink down into the dining room chair and let it soak in all the way.

“How many days do we have left?” You hear yourself whisper into the phone but it’s not you speaking, not really—its a absent reflex like blinking or breathing.

“That's…51 days, ma’am. We’ll contact you again in thirty days if we have not received the entire amount by that time.”

Your eyes burn and blur, tears for the years of your life wasted on a useless education, until they surge past the dam and plummet to the paper below. When you look down at the document, your tears are stained red by the ink on the foreclosure notice. “How much will it be, again?” Defeated, Inadequate and Doomed.

“Fourteen thousand, three hundred and forty dollars, for six months worth of the Mortgage and late fees accumulated.” She sounds annoyed when she reads off the obscene number, like she isn’t sealing the fate of your family home, the dream your parents have worked their whole lives for to pass down to you—all wasted on a backed mortgage that your parents took out on the farm when you were born.

The full circle indicates that losing your family’s livelihood was your fault, from start to finish. You didn’t make it in time. All your hard work, and you’re still going to lose it.

“Is that everything, ma’am?”

Click

You drop the phone and sob into your arms, your whole body shaking and heaving with every sharp inhale. In your best attempt to keep quiet, you attract the attention of the one person you long to keep this from, your sweet, well meaning mom.

She’s soft spoken when she soothes you, rubs your back while you dry up your tears against her chest and she doesn’t ask why, just kisses your forehead and smiles one of those sweet sweet smiles at you and says, “We’ll get through this, Honey, don’t you worry about that. We’ll figure this out together.”

And you believe her, enough to reel in your hiccups, enough to ease your searing tears. “Why don’t you take a break from work, Melly gets here soon, yeah? You got everything you girls need?”

You smile at her, thankful for her ability to distract you from the things that keep you up at night. She knows you better than anyone, she’s your best friend. “Maybe we can stop at the store after we get her, but we gotta leave soon—“ you check the time, one hour until her plane touches down in Jackson and it takes forty five minutes to get there alone.

“Actually Honey, about that…I can't go with you. I’m not feeling up to it and I thought I would whip up dinner for you girls. But I got someone to go with you,”

You stand up from the chair and put the papers back into the envelope. “Mom, I really can go alone, I drove all the way here—“ she stops you with a quiet scuff. “You got stuck in the snow and Joel had to pull you out.” Joel, that son of a bitch…that big, sexy cowboy son of a bitch who left you in the snow. Who huffs and puffs and walks around like the sweatiest, filthiest, most delicious version of every nasty fantasy you’ve ever had. Of course she would drag him into this, maybe she’s the one who’s after the help.

“Speak of the devil,” she has this knowing look when her gaze travels past you to the doorway of the dining room. You glance over your shoulder to find yourself smack dab in the middle of one of those filthy dreams, dressed in green plaid and his brown Carhartt jacket, his black cowboy hat resting atop his head with curls peeking out of the sides, kissing the tips of his ears. His beard has grown out a tad too, making him look soft all over, scruffy and curly with a dimpled smile. The sight of him comes with a sudden rush of soothing comfort, warm eyes that make you feel safe, hidden in the shadows of his hat.

“Heard I was takin’ you somewhere?” He’s broad and sturdy, with a slight sheen of sweat on the peaks of his collarbones under his shirt. Under his beard, his neck is taught and his muscles are strained, his pulse visible beneath his skin despite his cool composure. If you know Joel, he did a days worth of work this morning to clear his schedule for the rest of the afternoon. He probably smells like sweat and dirt, like horses and leather under all that damn southern charm he possesses.

Actually, you can take me anywhere. On the couch, in my room, hell—in the glow of a fridge light.

You sink your teeth into your bottom lip to bite off your involuntary groan, shooting your mom a sharp look. She may play coy, might act like she's this innocent and sweet, cookie baking, laundry folding, house making mom who knows no better, but you see what she’s really up to. How she hides behind her little false oblivion, a facade she usually only uses for good. This doesn’t feel like it was for the greater good.

“You—“ you sneer at her quietly and she smiles with a “Not sure what you mean dear, but you better get a move on. I have to get dinner in the oven!” She scurries out of the room and into the next, letting the door swing closed behind her. Joel remains in the same spot, one shoulder pressed against the white wood frame of the old door, his muddy boots on the dark hardwood floors. Your eyes drag up the rest of him, his pants are tight in the middle, hugging his hips and probably just barely restraining what lays below the dark blue denim. There's a soft curve to his belly, made apparent when his arms cross over his chest and pull his shirt tight against his front.

His belly looks so damn soft. So fucking round and bite-able. A few more clicks up, his chest nearly bulging out of the buttons of the flannel. The buttons hang on for dear life, but you’re afraid if he flexes, they will scatter to the floor with your resolve.

He clears his throat and you finally meet his eyes. “Doin’ alright there, darlin’?” If his presence wasn’t enough, the bourbony southern drawl and the way he cocks his hip makes your thighs squeeze together involuntarily. “Yeah—Yep, just need to get dressed and I’ll be ready.” You’re still in a big sleep shirt, have been all morning because work for you doesn’t require pants half of the time. When you start to breeze past, his eyes drop to the exposed skin of your thighs.

“Been wonderin’…” he stops you with a big hand, pressed against your sternum when you try to pass by his solid form. He’s still faced the opposite direction than your body, only his head turns to look down at you, gone still beneath his stern fingertips. “If you always walk around naked under these shirts, or if you’re wearin’ somethin’ under there when mom and dad are ‘round?”

His eyes flick back to the door leading into the kitchen, where your mother is currently hiding from your scowl, then back down to the hem of your oversized shirt. The hand on your ribs shifts when you haul in a deep, stuttering breath. It slips a few inches lower, the tips of his thick fingers dipping into the flesh of your stomach, just below your belly button. He’s so close and so fucking firm where he holds you in place.

“Why don’t you have a look for yourself, Cowboy?”

You challenge him back and you swear he stops breathing beside you. He meets your dare with a low growl, reverberating inside his rib cage like a shout in a vast canyon. What the hell is happening right now, did he hit his head or something? Is he finally getting the fucking hint? How desperately you want him to have his way with you? Then again, the last time he saw you dressed like this, you were bent over, knowingly showing off everything you had to offer, the place you wanted him most, while you listened to the guttural sounds leaving the unsuspecting man behind you. You aren’t going to complain about the sudden shift in his attention, hell no—you’ll soak in what you can get from the leery cowboy.

You hardly register the way he moves until he leans forward and warm fingertips graze the skin just under your ass. He’s looking when he lifts the shirt all the way up to your tailbone slowly, covered by smooth black satin, a thong that hugs your hips but leaves your cheeks exposed to his greedy sight. His eyes are everywhere, your thighs and the curve of your bare behind. His fingers dip just under the black satin band on your hip, his expression is just shy of a devoted man as he drinks in the contrasting sensation of your smooth skin and the silky material.

“Fuck,” he murmurs under his breath, letting his hand slip from your panties to travel back down, unsure fingers tracing along the crease of your ass, curling under your cheek when he gets to the bottom. It’s the softest touch you’ve ever felt, full of admiration and barely restrained desire. It sets your skin on fire, radiating behind your eyelids. “Those are…damn pretty, sugar…but you better go get yourself ready, before you’re late.” His hands slip away from you completely and he turns in the direction of the door, already on his way out before you even fully process what just happened. What flipped inside of Joel on a random Wednesday afternoon in late February?

He leaves with a satisfied smirk with intentions of starting the truck while you stammer against the doorway and remind yourself to breathe. When the front door closes behind him, you lean against the wood he was just propped against, hoping his heat will still linger there. He instigated something, a secret whisper of want, the thought makes a grin break out from one side of your face to the other, pulling your cheeks tight. He wants you.

You get dressed with that same stupid grin plastered on your face. You shift through your closet a few times, but you keep falling back on the same outfit. A pair of flared jeans, light in color with stitch work on the sides. With a pair of boots, they make your ass look like a dream—just what you are going for, just so you can rile Joel further. You find a tight top and a thick wool flannel to throw over it, before tracking back down the stairs to the front door.

It’s the rush of adrenaline that shocks the agony from your brain, but the moment you bound down the front steps to his waiting truck, the door already propped open, you pause.

You stop at the foot of the stairs and turn, looking up the steps you’ve known your entire life, the screen door you’ve spent numerous summers swinging in and out of. The porch you’ve watched storms roll in from, the porch swing where you had your first kiss. All this and…your heart sinks. When you turn back towards the running chevy, Joel is staring back at you, his once knowing smirk traded in for a furrow of concern on his handsome features.

You climb into the passenger seat and fasten your seatbelt while Joel puts the truck in gear and pulls away from the house.

There’s a long stretch of road that passes in near silence, before it’s you who just can’t take it anymore. Joel, sweet fucking Joel sat beside you, respecting your emotions and your boundaries once again. “Ranch is ‘bout to be foreclosed.” You tell him. Once it’s spoken aloud, you realize just how imminent your family’s demise really is. How quickly you are going to lose everything, watch your parents walk away with no retirement and nothing to show for themselves, for generations of hard work.

You expect something, questions about how you know, how long you have, if there's anything he can do to help you, but the questions never come. Instead, Joel reaches over and presses his fingers into the latch on your buckle, pulling it off of you with one click.

“C’mere, sweet girl.” His tone is low, soft enough to not interrupt your thoughts, but enough to have you drawing across the bench seat and slipping under his sturdy arm while he drives. He keeps you tucked in close beside him, his hand trailing up and down your arm to ease out the pain residing in your veins. He takes one glance down at you and leans forward, his lips connecting with the crown of your head. “We’ll get through it. We ain’t goin’ down without a hell of a fight.”

We

We

Because after the years you’ve spent away from this place, Joel has come to think of the Rising Sun ranch as his home just as much as it is yours. He’d raised every one of the cattle on that ranch, he’s worked day and night to ensure its survival, he’s lost sleep and nearly limbs fighting to keep them afloat while you were gone. This is his home, his fight right alongside yours. Finally, the weight seems to ease up, shouldered by Joel's sense of responsibility for your family’s livelihood.

Beside you, he’s solid and warm, he’s alive and overflowing with strength, enough to spare, for something to cling to. You turn your head and bury your face in his shoulder, covering yourself in the shield of protection he has to offer, sturdy, devoted support that makes you feel lightheaded with security. He doesn’t push you further, doesn’t prod you for details. He just hangs on, keeps your body tucked in close to his while he drives into town. At some point, the rattling of the old truck along patchy highway roads lulls you into sleep with your head against his shoulder and one leg across his lap.

Joel, with all the strength he can muster—holds on tight.

“Hey,” your senses come rushing back when the truck comes to a stop and your warm pillow jostles under your head. You lift up off his weight a little and glance at him through a sleepy gaze, a soft smile present on his lips. “As much as I like you droolin’ all over me…” he gestures to wet stain on his flannel. “Think your friends plane lands soon, don’t want you to miss it.”

You get yourself together enough to look out the window. Joel parked right outside of baggage claim at Jacksons little airport and his arm still sits tightly around your shoulders. A deep sigh sets in to your bones and you lean against him for just a moment longer to soak in the warmth. “Hey, look at me, darlin’,” his hand wraps around your chin gently, coaxing your eyes up to his. “Don’t think about the ranch, at least till the week is over. Ain’t nothin’ you can do right now, so don’t let it ruin your birthday. Everythin’s gonna be alright.” His words trail off when a broad thumb swipes across the underside of your bottom lip, his gaze caught in yours so tightly you’re half sure the jaws of life couldn’t draw you apart. He breaks out into a grin and heaves a shallow laugh. “Had a little drool there.”

The little laugh that bubbles up in you breaks the eye contact and Joel shuts off the truck, untucking you from his arm. You check the time for safe measures, there's still a few more minutes before the plane lands and she still has to make it out the gates.

“Joel?” He’s fiddling with his key chain, adjusting a few backwards keys. “Hmm?” He barely makes eye contact—is he embarrassed? From holding you while you slept? “Thank you. For everything you’ve done for me—for my family while I’ve been gone. I can't think of a way to…repay you for everything.”

Joel glances over at you and something flashes in his brown eyes, something that looks like discomfort and shame. He takes a sharp breath in and squeezes his knuckles around the keys. “I didn’t do it all selflessly…please don’t take this wrong. I haven’t felt a sense of belonging in years. Me and Tommy have been drifting since I was twenty eight, working on one ranch after another. We’d stick around a town for six months and he’d get antsy, stir up trouble and we’d have to hit the road again.”

He brings his hand up to his mouth and chews on the corner of his thumb. He’s anxious, you can tell by the way his eyes flitter to you then away quickly. “I’ve covered his ass more times than I can count because I don’t know if I’ll be the same if I have to leave here. It feels fuckin—selfish, like I’m usin’ your folks. M’gettin’ old, my bones are tired and all I want is to…stop. Slow down for once in my life. I’ve never been more at peace than I am here, with your parents and the ranch. I was doin’ so good, gettin’ my mind right, hatin’ myself a little less and then—“ he trails off with a distant look in his eyes.

And then…what? What’s caused Joel to lose that sense of peace and stability? “What happened?” You sink back in the bench seat, run your fingers along the stitched pattern of color adorning the warn padding. “S’big snow storm came in…I was comin’ back from town because I took Tommy to pick up flowers. He’d been a real asshole to a sweet lady who didn’t deserve it. Was pissed off he was smokin’ in the truck, pissed he was jeopardizin’ our home again, when we see this little car stuck in the embankment, met this—real pretty girl, and she…” he sneaks a glance over at you, but he’s doing his best to find anywhere, anything else to look at. Cars passing by, the sun reflecting off the bright white paint on the cross walk. The older woman in-front of you, helping what looks like her daughter, load her luggage into the trunk.

“She got under my skin and I was flustered for the first time in a really long time. Kinda freaked me out—and then I left here there—‘cuz I was scared shitless and nothin’s ever been the same since. Sorta think she hates my guts half the time for it.”

There's this unsettling silence in the cab, Joel's nerves and his admission hanging in the air between you. He’s never ever been this vulnerable and honest with you before. You’ve talked to him more times than you can count now, a meaningless little conversation where you found everything you needed to change your mind about him. But he’s never opened himself up like he was right now, in the damn pick up line of the Jackson airport.

“Joel I…I already forgave you for that.” You forgave him for that when he gave you your necklace for Christmas. You forgave him when he carried a newborn calf half a mile through a snowstorm for you. You forgave him when you came down the stairs to him in that damn cowboy hat.

You forgave him when he came back for you and looked at you with those pretty brown eyes.

“What?” He looks over at you and you hold onto the eye contact for as long as you possibly can. “I don’t hate you. Furthest thing from it actually—I do hate how much you avoid me. Like I’m going to bite your head off any second—“ he snorts, cracks a white smile at you and his eyes crinkle at the sides, making your stomach flutter, little blue butterflies soaring through your abdomen. “You do bite my head off—often.”

Okay—maybe he’s a little right, maybe you let it get too far a few times, spent too many afternoons angry at his distaste for you, when all you wanted was a taste of him. “Well, I’m sorry…for all the things I’ve said to you, the things I’ve called you. But I’m not upset about that anymore. I forgave you for that a long time ago. You’ve already made up for it a million times, Joel.”

He’s grinning at you like you just told him he won the fucking lottery, his nervous hands drumming a absent tune against the steering wheel. He’s looking at you like it’s the first time you’ve ever met him, his eyes shining with mirth and admiration. “Think…you could give this ol’ cowboy another shot?” That nervous little shake of his jaw, the tick in his voice and the hopefulness in his eyes is enough to break anyone, but you? You’re so lost on him you never want to find your way back. Throw away the maps, toss the keys somewhere you’ll never find them again—you never want to go anywhere else in the world. Another shot? You’d give him all of them.

“Pretend you’ve never met me before.”

He blinks, cocks an eyebrow and makes a face of confusion at you. “I’ve never met you?” You nod, turn your whole body to face him on the bench seat of his old beat up chevy. “Like it’s the first time we’ve met. I’m Hank's daughter and you’re picking me up from the airport to take me home for the first time in years. We’ve never met. Try again, shoot your shot, cowboy.”

You’d like to imagine that's how it went—your mom and dad were too busy to come get you and you decided to fly because you knew your little car wouldn’t make it. They send Joel, because he’s trustworthy and punctual. They know he’ll treat their daughter with respect, they trust that he’ll use his better judgment, because they know he’s a good man. You know that under that rough, hard exterior is an anxious man searching for belonging, a good man.

Joel takes a deep breath, lets his mind drift out the window before he turns it back to you with a charming smile, one you’ve never been on the receiving end of. It’s smoldering, flirtatious—everything you imagined Joel to be after all those years of pinning after a man you’ve never laid eyes on. A Joel you’ve never met and desperately need to get to know better. “Prodigy daughter finally returns,” his drawl is thick and his eyes rake over you once, twice, before settling on your own. “I’m Joel.”

You giggle—rightfully so, because this Joel? This Joel is all quick wit and chivalry. You fake introduce yourself back, your grin mirroring his own. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Joel.”

“Pleasure is…all mine, darlin’.”

You could stare at him forever with that damn goofy smile on his face. “Anyone ever tell you—you look good in this?” You tell him, reaching up to flick the brim of his hat, but it stays firmly in place despite your efforts. He snorts and snaps up to catch your wrist, holding onto it tightly in his big hand. “S’funny, I was just thinkin’ about how good you’d look in my hat.” His thumb circles the inside of your wrist slowly,’ pushing down the fabric of your sleeve with the effort. Slowly, he draws your appendage closer, till his mouth hovers just above your skin. His eyes are like witnessing something tragic, so devastating you can't bring yourself to look away.

“In just—“ His eyes slip closed when his lips connect with the inside of your wrist. His lips are warm and so tender you fight down a soft whimper at the intoxicating sensation. When they open again, dangerous amber irises peer back at you like you’re their salvation. “-my cowboy hat.”

Oh—fuck. There’s an image you’ll never get out of your mind—your hands on his sweaty chest, the brim of his hat falling in front of your eyes while you try to keep it in place, despite the way you ride him—

“Joel—Jesus, you can’t just—“

He breaks out into a chest filled laugh, his eyes slip close and his head falls back. His whole body responds to the way he laughs, his legs kick up, his chest heaves and his belly bounces. He’s a menace, a damn trouble starter—he makes you see hearts around his head and a sparkle in his eyes you’re sure you’re imagining. He calms his laugh down with a few deep breaths, a grin still plastered on his handsome face. “What can I say? I’m really bad at first impressions.”

He is, but it doesn’t bother you like it used to. Joel isn’t and never will be the perfect man you’d envisioned. He’ll never be the Joel you’d made up in your head for so long, because that Joel was made solely for you, from your interpretation of a man who’s perfect for you in every way. But that Joel and the one in front of you are two vastly different people—this Joel is gruff at times, opinionated and flawed. He wasn’t made perfect for you, but you find that the things that make him the least like the Joel in your mind—are the things that you like most about him. He’s gruff, but he’s punctual and takes no shit. He’s opinionated, but he’s wise about life, he’s earned the right to voice his beliefs. He’s flawed—he has crows feet by his kind eyes, graying curls and weathered hands—but it’s his flaws that entice you to learn more about him. They make him real in front of you instead of a made up, faceless man in your dreams.

Your phone chimes in your pocket and it sucks you from the void in the cab of this old truck, away from Joel's charming smile and his burning hand on your wrist. He pulls away and the moment dissipates into dust on the dashboard.

Melly: I just got my bag, headed out now!

“Be right back,” you slip out the door with a firm shut and try your hardest not to glance back at the man in the cab of that blue and white truck.

Finding Melly is easy, she sticks out like a sore thumb with her blonde hair and too-blessed chest. What did she do in a past life for tits like that, anyways?

She comes out the double doors and jogs to you with a grin your wearing on your own face. “Oh my gosh!” She squeals, finally getting close enough to throw your arms around each other. It’s been months since you’ve seen each other after spending everyday together for the last two years. You tumble around together in your hug for a few minutes before she pulls back to look you over, in a pair of flared jeans and boots. “Oh man, the country got you.” She jokes, faking a deflated sigh. “Would you fuck off?” She laughs menacingly, slinging her bag over her shoulder for more security. “Let me guess, you’re still trying to drive that cowboy crazy, right?”

With a deep eye roll, you finally look back at the truck. He’s looking right back at you, an easy smile on his lips when your eyes connect. You look back to your best friend and make a face. “He uhm…he actually drove me…to come get you. He’s in the truck, please be nice to him, okay?” She sneers and you know she means trouble when you help her with her things on her way to the truck.

“Please don’t fucking embarrass me, I swear dude—“ Mel gives you a little shove and huffs a laugh when you put her suitcase in the bed of the pickup. “Don’t worry, I’m not going to ruin your shot with the old dude.” She looks around you, eyeing him from outside of the truck without his knowledge. “Holy shit, dude he’s hot. He’s like, stupid hot.”

You look over at him too and like he can feel your eyes on him, he looks over his shoulder, smiles warmly and you know it—

Know you’re fucked.

“Not a word.” Mel throws her hands up innocently and follows your lead when you open the door of the truck and climb in the middle, sliding in right beside Joel, reclaiming the space you’d taken up on your way here.

The whole drive back to the ranch, your body is on fire along the parts that connect to Joel, pressed so close you’re afraid you might melt into him.

Two days pass in a blur.

You spend a lot of time with Mel, catching up on how she's been doing since graduating, how she likes work—she’s a wildlife biologist in Colorado, who’s still learning the ropes of the job but she’s never been more excited to be a part of something. You don’t tell her about the ranch for a good reason, but she still asks and doesn’t say anything if she notices the look on your face when you lie to her.

We’ll get through it

You love spending time with her, but you don’t see a lot of Joel besides meals. He’s pleasant and soft, smiling at you like he’s never worn a frown on that handsome face. He sits too close at dinner, draws your gaze in far too many times for it to be an accident. It’s not anymore but it’s still so damn hard to make yourself believe that this isn’t just a fleeting moment—temptation breathing life into you for the first time in years, teasing you with possibilities.

He makes you burn but he doesn’t push further, doesn’t chase that desire down its narrowing path. It’s so close—you’re so close to finally making him yours.

When your birthday rolls around, he’s nowhere to be seen at breakfast. When you head out to the stables, the horses have already been fed and there's no trace of the man who plagues your every waking moment. The truck is gone and the tire-tracks in the driveway look old, like he’s been gone for hours. It’s not that he’s required to see you on your birthday, but you thought things were going to change. You thought that re-meeting him in the truck at the airport would restart everything, he’d realize you want him around more than the ranch hand who got under your skin and made you desperate for his attention. It feels naive, to watch out the window for his truck for most of the morning, pining after that faded powder blue and rust.

“This is depressing to watch from the outside, you know that right?” Comes Mel’s voice from the other side of your room when you check the window for the first time in the last half hour. She's painting her nails on the chair in your room while you peer through the blinds like he might appear out of thin air without you hearing the rumble of his old chevy. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” You do your best to defend yourself, stepping away and crossing your arms as you trudge to your bed.

“Don’t play dumb with me, I know you. You’re pacing your room wondering when you’ll see him. You know everyone can see the way you guys look at each other right? When are you guys going to like…kick it up a notch, get in his pants?”

You toss yourself on the fluffy sheets and close your eyes tight, letting your mind wander for a moment. “I don’t know…” what are you going to do, if you cant even see him long enough to get him alone? Tonight is the dance and you were hoping he’d be there, maybe he’d ask you for a dance. You’ve never told a boy in your hometown yes to a dance at this thing, but you’d change that for Joel. If he asked, you’d let him spin you around all night long.

Only problem is, he can’t do that if he’s still avoiding you like you're an illness he can’t afford to catch. “He’s so confusing. One second he acts like…he wants me, the next he’s hiding from me, probably—ugh, I just wish I could get him out of my head if he wants nothing to do with me!”

The room is silent, still for all of five glorious seconds before Mel breaks it. “Does he still run away to jerk off?” You snap your eyes over to her with a sharp glare. “Yes! And he drives me up the fucking wall, dude! All I want is to get my hands on that delicious man and he runs away every time. How am I ever supposed to accomplish anything if I can't even get him alone for five minutes. And every time I do, something happens and ruins it all.”

You can't seem to get a second with him no matter how hard you try. The last two days, he hasn’t been around aside from his work in the morning, a few meals he makes it to in between. If you’re being honest, it's painful to think about the way he’d smiled at you a few days ago and the way he doesn’t have the time of day now.

“If he shows up at that dance tonight, I’m making sure you get your second alone. Now come on, let me help you pick out your dress. He won't know what he’s missing out on.”

By the time you’re headed out the door for town, Joel is still nowhere in sight. You thought you’d heard his truck for a moment earlier, but when you’d peered out the window a few minutes later, there was no blue chevy in the driveway. No cowboy waiting out front for you.

You trudged to the car in your black dress, two slits up the sides where your thighs peak out and a back so low your half afraid your ass is going to fall out of the damn thing. You do your best to hold it up when you walk through the dirt, a pair of knee high red cowgirl boots are the only thing saving you from the mud right now.

Melly isn’t far behind, but she's not dressed in anything nearly as revealing as you. She’s making friends with Tommy who surprisingly hasn’t tried to flirt yet and claims to have no idea where his older brother has disappeared to. He’s endearing, but you know he’s playing for both sides here, hiding something for his brother.

On the drive into town, your parents take your dads truck, leaving you, Mel and Tommy in your car. When you get about half way, you finally break and ask if Tommy has seen Joel, if he knows if he’s coming. Tommy shrugs in the rearview mirror with a smile.

“I’m sure we’ll see ‘em.” Is the only answer you get.

It doesn’t happen for hours.

Hours of forcing a smile through mind numbing conversation with people you haven’t seen in years. The same old how have you been in the big city? and you tell them it was hard work and commitment. They ask no plans for the future? like you’re doomed without a ring on your hand at your age. You keep your head up through every comment, back handed compliment and pick up line that passes you by for a whole fucking hour on the dance floor alone.

“I think I want to go home soon. I’m having the worst fucking time, my feet are killing me and I think my eyelash is falling off.” Your whining and limping, faking distress and discomfort for any shot to get the fuck out of here, go home and maybe you can chance a run in with Joel.

Maybe he’s coming in from the north pasture where he’s probably been hiding all day. He’d be covered in muck and sweat, dirt clinging to the creases in his face. He’d be tired and worn out, vulnerable to the way you’d take advantage of his weakened restraint. “You sure you don’t want to stay a few minutes longer?” Melly muses beside you sipping on a tall glass of tequila on ice, watching the small town’s people converse and dance, laugh and gather together under the low string lighting.

You take a long drag of the drink in your own hand, your third of the night that's finally starting to warm your insides. It’s not enough to ease the ache of wishing Joel would appear. You know he won't, there's only a few hours left and people are starting to get tipsy. “I think you might want to rethink that…the devil himself just walked in, twelve o’clock.”

You look up at her, in a pretty green dress with curly hair framing her face. She’s smirking over your shoulder at something—or someone behind you. You turn the rest of the way around and swear you’re in the middle of one of those movie scenes.

The ones where the love interest walks in and sexy rock plays while they walk in slow motion. With wind blowing this hair back even though they are inside. Joel fucking Miller was doing exactly that at this very minute, striding through the hall in his cowboy hat and a black button down, dark wash jeans and his boots. He looks like a wet dream standing there, looking a little bit lost and so damn handsome. Under his hat, you can see that his hair is slicked back and he looks clean like he’d gone home and gotten ready.

He’s here.

“Oh he looks…if you don’t ask him to dance, I will. He’s hot.” You wish you could explain to her that Joel is more than that, that he’s funny and endearing, that he’s honorable and loyal to a fault. He’s so many more things than just hot. You swivel around as he makes his way through the crowd, he’s bound to find you and you don’t want him to spot you gawking at him. “Do I look okay? Fuck he looks so good—is my hair alright?” You try to do a quick pat down but Melly grabs your hand with a smile. “You look fine. He’s not going to know what hit him, I promise—but he’s coming this way so whatever you do, chill out.”

She sets her drink on the tall table, the ones that adorn the outside of the dance floor for people who want to mingle. You take a long drink of yours and move to set it down when someone clears their throat behind you. The drink hits the table and you turn slowly, till you rotate around to face him completely. He’s even more devastating up close with pearl snap buttons on his shirt, his arms nearly bulging out of the damn thing. His facial hair looks shorter, his eyes shimmering with reflected light.

“What’s a pretty thing like you doin’, standin’ here all by herself on her birthday?” He grins at you and takes another step forward. “Guess I’m just waiting for the right cowboy to ask me for a dance.” You tease back, reaching out for him once he’s close enough for you to touch. You start at his stomach, soft under his dress shirt. When your hands make contact, a visible shiver runs through Joel.

There’s suddenly two more hands to join the party, one high up on your waist while the other curves around low on your hip, his digits digging into the top of your ass. “I’ll be real’ honest with you here, doll—askin’ you for a dance is the only reason I came tonight.” He smells good for once, usually you catch a hint of his shower under the smell of dirt and manure, a faintness of his once clean skin. Now, it’s all you can focus on—how he’d taste like his soap, smooth and clean, every part of him reachable by your watering mouth. “Well, Cowboy…go on.” Your hands slip up his chest and over his broad shoulders, like you’ve imagined yourself doing a thousand times. He’s responsive, lowers his shoulders so you fit along him perfectly.

“Would ya make this old man's day, let me have a dance?” His hand drops lower, along the side of your thigh until he can dig them into the curve under your ass. If you didn’t know any better, you’d think he was trying to hoist you up, drag you into that vice-like grip you want to be at the mercy of every day of your life. “Can’t get me any closer, Joel.” You giggle, hiding your face against his neck. He smells like after shave and a little like whiskey. “I thought you were giving up drinking?” You nip at his jaw lightly, just to listen to the way he rumbles against you.

“I’m—tryin’ to keep my cool here, but you look fucking incredible tonight. Needed a little courage to walk up to you, s’all.” He leans back slightly, looking down at the way your dress squeezes your tits together, nearly pouring out of the black satin. “Fucking…gorgeous in this thing, you know that? You knew how sexy this little thing was, didn’t you?” He pulls at the slit that exposes your thighs, raking it up a little higher, until he can get a handful of bare skin. He’s not wrong—you’d put the dress on and thought about all the ways it would drive Joel crazy if he saw you in it.

“You better take me dancing before you take this off of me.” The dance around you has started to fade away. Melly took her cue to go and has started to make conversation elsewhere. “With pleasure, darlin’.”

Joel all but carries you to the middle of the dance floor before you notice his obvious nervous ticks, the shake of his hands and the way he’s fighting the urge to gnaw on his thumb. He’s anxious despite his obvious attempt at faking composure. When you wrap your arms around his shoulders again, he stammers. “Need to tell you somethin’.” His voice is a little shaky on the inhale when his hands find your waist again. “I went into town last week, there’s this dance studio on sixth street and I thought, maybe I could trade work for someone to…teach me how to use my damn feet.” For added flair, he reels away from you and spins you once before drawing you back into his chest as he moves. “So, I take it someone taught you?”

The song changes, something slow, romantic and sweet that couples join in around you, swaying together around the dance floor. “Lady said she’d been lookin’ for someone to replace the dance floor. Told her I just wanted to learn to dance, so I’d stand a chance against the other schmucks askin’ you.” He dances you around for a few more moments, pulling out all the stops—every new move he learned. Was that why he was gone so much, disappearing every time you turned around? He was replacing a damn floor and learning how to dance, all for you?

“Joel—“ you start, trying to grab ahold of him for long enough to make him still. “There's somethin’ else,” he dips you back and your insides flutter, looking up at him with those big brown hopeful eyes. He stands you up right again and the dancing slows to a stop, right there in the middle of the dance hall. You’re sure the towns eyes are on you, your mom and dad, friends from high school, older people you’ve been around your entire life. “She wouldn’t let me leave without payin’ me for it, said dancin’ lessons don’t cost that much after all.” He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a envelope, sealed tight with a number written on the front.

“Ranch needs it a whole hell of a lot more than I do. S’just two grand, but I’ve found a few other odd jobs, so there will be more comin’, but it’s a start—“ your hand clasps over his clutching the envelope. You push his hand down, stepping forward until you're nearly standing on his own feet. “Joel Miller…are you going to stand there all night running your mouth, or are you going to kiss me?” This endearing man, this big, expressive cowboy who can’t seem to get anything right in his own eyes, but everything right in yours.

He chuckles, the hand not holding the envelope finds the side of your face, sliding his thumb along the apple of your cheek. He’s not the one to make the first move after all—after all the leading him towards it, the teasing and the showmanship. It’s you that stands up high on your tiptoes and drags him the rest of the way in, until his mouth finds yours in the lull of the dance hall, surrounded by swaying bodies and sweet music.

He sucks in a breath through his nose and his mouth opens, slots your lips between his when he finally, fucking finally gives all the way in. It’s sweet, chaste while you stand there, smack dab in the middle of the floor. Joel stuffs the envelope back into his pocket and his other hand finds your body again, yanking until you're flushed against him, digging your hands into his shoulders when his tongue licks along the seam of your mouth, begging to be let into the slick heat. What was slow and steady, soon becomes frantic, hot and needy. Your fingers tug at the buttons of his shirt and someone shoots off a whistle from across the room, enough to have you reeling apart. Joel's mouth is red, his lips swollen and shiny from your spit.

“You want to get out of here?”

Yes. Fucking hell yes you wanted to, you’ve wanted to all damn night, but with Joel standing in front of you, a strained tent in his dark jeans, it’s all you can think about. Instead of a response, you grab him by his hand and all but drag him out the back doors towards the parking lot. It's quiet, dark—the dance isn’t even close to being over so there’s next to no one in the parking lot.

You never stood a chance, looking back on this moment right here. You never would have stood a chance, with Joel’s ragged breathing behind you when he closes the door tight behind him.

One look at his wild eyes and parted lips, you should have known how this night was going to end.

Joel was desperate. He needed you, needed to touch you every second of his day. He thought about you every second he spent awake and he dreamt of you all night long. When he’d heard about the dance, he wanted to kick himself for not learning sooner. Finding the dance studio was a fluke, learning to dance was a damn nightmare and the floor wasn’t much better, but he’d do it all again for another opportunity to press you up against the brick wall with your thighs pressed apart and his hips slotted between them while he all but devoured your mouth.

He’s ruthless, relentless as he drags your bottom lip between his teeth. You—you can't keep your sounds to yourself, hiking your legs up higher around his waist when he presses in closer. He can feel himself straining through his jeans, can feel the heat of your core against his painfully hard cock. He’d take you right fucking here if you let him. “Joel—Joel,” your hips roll down to meet his uncontrollable press forward. “I know—fuck, baby, I know.” His movements are hurried and frantic, like this might be the only shot he has to get his hands on you. His mouth finds your jaw and he bites down on your flesh, relishing in the salty taste of sweat from dancing, the tang of your perfume and the sweet taste of your skin. It’s your sharp whine that gets him in motion again, his stilled teeth still hanging on to your delicate jaw. “Touch me, please—please, touch me.”

In a scurry, he drops his hand between your bodies, pushing the fabric of your dress to the side so his fingertips can work under the elastic of your panties, past the soaked material to the place he’s always longed to touch, always wondered what it would feel like.

And you are fucking drenched under his exploring digits. He slips them through your lips, your slick already dripping down his knuckles when he finds your clit and presses the pad of his thumb to it, swirling it around in a swift motion. Your head falls back and your mouth hangs open, a silent scream on your parted lips.

“There it is, huh? S’what finally gets you quiet? Just needed me to touch your pussy, didn’t you?” He groans when your thighs tremble against him, trying to tighten up around his waist where he has you pinned to the cold wall. His thumb keeps its rhythm while his fingers dip lower, making him breathless at how easily your body draws those fingers in. You come apart like you were meant to do just that, your body rapidly chasing him towards the brink. If he hadn’t gotten himself off twice today, he’s sure he’d already have cum in his pants from just this. “Yes-Yes, Joel—make me cum, please!” Your voice is wrecked.

Your eyes rolled back in your head, your chest heaving in that pretty little dress—your tits are about to bust out of the damn thing. He picks up the pace, slams his fingers into your heat and curls them while his thumb makes quick work of your clit. It’s been so long since he touched a woman, but he’ll never forget the signs.

You are dangerously, furiously close in mere minutes alone. “That’s it, pretty girl—cum on these fingers, let me feel her squeeze me.” You cry out sharply and he nearly covers your mouth with his other hand, but he doesn’t move. Instead, he revels in the pulse of your pussy on his fingers, the way you grind down against him while your body grasps for release. It comes to you with a whole body shake, a ragged gasp of his name and his tongue on your jugular.

When he pulls his hand free, it’s with a wet sound that makes his gut tighten and his knees weak. He has to get you somewhere more secluded, away from the prying eyes of the town folks. “Wunna taste you,” he growls lowly, dragging you away from the building despite the way you stumble, the lightheadedness from cuming on his fingers.

His truck is parked in the back for lack of a better spot, due to his tardiness. He’ll thank his lucky stars for it later, if he can remind himself of it. Now, he slings the door open and nearly throws you down on the bench seat. “C’mere, girl.” He’s running out of will power and common sense, the only thing driving his mind right now is sheer want, carnal desire to get his mouth all over what he’s already ruined. He’s lucky for the part of his brain that slips off his hat and sets it on the dashboard. “Lemme see that fuckin’ pussy.”

His hands find the backs of your knees and he yanks you to the edge of the seat. At this angle, he can spread you out and kneel beside the truck, let you use the door jam to rest your foot on. When your eyes find him, he thinks you’re just as far gone as he is, blinded to the world unfolding around you, to rubber hitting asphalt nearby.

“I’m going to fucking ruin you, babygirl. Only word you’ll know is my name when I’m finished with you.” He pushes your dress up with your hurried help, both of you desperately trying to rid you of your clothes as quickly as possible. The second he has your panties dangling between his finger tips, he pushes his head between your spread legs and buries himself under your dress.

The thing about Joel is, he’s always been too good at this. Half the time, it's the only reason women stick around. It must have been the only reason he got his ex wife to marry him.

He’s abandoned his shame and better judgment. He’s starved, famished for a taste of you. This man, this unhinged version of Joel eats pussy like he’s going to die without it. From the very second his mouth finds your center, he’s lost to your immodest cries, your mindless begging for him to keep going, never stop, never stop, Joel—please. He opens his mouth wide, slops his tongue through your folds like he’s trying to lick every drop from your sensitive skin. He pulls away for a breath and his eyes bounce up to meet yours, transfixed on his relentless attack. “Wunna split this little pussy open on me,” he says, muffled against your soft mound. He takes another long lap and moans at the heady taste of you on his greedy tongue.

“I’ve been practicing—I got, oh, fuck Joel, like that,” your head tips back and he pulls his mouth away completely. “You got what, baby, use your words.”

Your body clenches on nothing and his eyes track the movement with a low rumble. “Got a toy that’s as big as you so I could practice. So I'd be able to take you.”

You’d thought about this, about him. You’d thought about him while fucking yourself on a toy you’d bought to train yourself.

He doesn’t have the words to express the way it makes his chest tighten, so he presses his face between your thighs again and gets back to work, drawing out every secret you can no longer hold onto, how good he makes you feel, how hot and devastating his tongue is—how the sound of a car pulling up doesn’t even register until—

“Jackson Police department, step away from the vehicle!”

You should have known.

[sweetcollywobbles]

yandere! leon kennedy x reader

helloo! this is my first ever one-shot. i'm not great at writing so forgive me if this is bad lmao

tw: usual trigger warnings for yanderes, idk if this is a dead dove; don't eat fic since it's not that dark(?)

ALL AROUND ME by flyleaf

▶︎ •၊၊||၊|။||||။‌‌‌‌‌၊|• 2:26

yet she made him feel so ugly.

leon tried his best to keep his shaking hands firm on the wheel. to keep his drifting eyes on the road in front of him instead of her, his beating heart personified. but he couldn’t help it. not when she was sprawled out in the backseat of his jeep, hair in disarray, soft snores coming out of her pretty lips. even in her sleep, she still managed to be the prettiest sight leon ever laid eyes on. all without trying, without even knowing. 

‘it’ll be fine, she’ll adjust. she’ll be happy.’ it was reassurance within an ugly lie.

leon’s cobalt eyes drift to her sleeping form for the umpteenth time the whole drive. attempting to sync up his short, uneven breaths with the pattern of her soft rising, and falling chest. he was panicking, this isn't how leon wanted everything to go down. he had hoped to be taking her home under better circumstances.

leon had never thought himself capable of doing this. of ever being this kind of person. having the ability to strip someone’s freedom away for his gain willingly. yet here he was, feeling like the guiltiest, ugliest man on earth. but what is done, is done.

leon s. kennedy has kidnapped her. 

₊˚⊹ ᥫ᭡. 𓂃

she’s had a secret admirer for a while now. sadly, she wasn’t sure when it all began, she just knew someone had grown smitten with her. but if the office gossip was right, that someone has been swooning over her for a little after her first two weeks as a receptionist.

she’s a hopeless romantic; so much to a very concerning fault. not ever considering any issues that could come from someone anonymously doting on her. she couldn't help it, not when it felt so good to be wanted. 

the snacks that would randomly show up on days when she forgot meals. the small flowers that littered her desk, delicately hand-picked from some random spot outside. small foreign knick-knacks always wrapped in a pretty bow. love notes that were written with the pleas and desperations of a lovesick puppy, every line confessing borderline obsession. 

in a sick way, it all meant so much to her. 

so, she started writing love notes back to reciprocate their adoration. every letter filled with honey-dripped words so sweet it could make anyone’s teeth rot. this little office fling wasn't a game to her. she was willing to say anything and everything to keep them fixated, to make this person stay.

it was a dangerous game she was playing, she knew that. but if she was being honest, she never wanted to consider the repercussions of it all. the nasty reality of the consequences that will come from these delusions she was spoon-feeding this person. 

she thought it was a little nice to finally have someone in her life. someone to give her the illusion of not being alone. it was nice to finally feel wanted. to finally be seen by another person for once in her life. especially since she was never great at making friends and her parents had a rocky relationship.

nothing ever seemed to last long for her. at least from her track record, nothing good ever seemed to last. no matter how hard she fought and clung to whatever it was. something always got in the way.

this time it was a just letter in the mail. a letter that felt like a gunshot to the heart. quick and straight to the point. her father had passed and her mom was asking for her to come home.

what she felt should've been straight to the point, but it wasn't. she'd always had a difficult relationship with her father. she wasn't a son, so he despised her. yet she still loved him, still craved for his approval. even if she knew she would never get it.

her mom, on the other hand, she shined like the sun. loved and cared for her in the moments she was allowed to. the last time she ever spoke to her mom was on her eighteenth birthday. that was two years ago, and she’s missed her mom every day.

she cried. she cried as if forcefully evicting the heavy weight that had found home in her chest all these years. the sobs came out strained and sharp, sounding foreign as if she had never done this before. like a dog that was never allowed to bark. her hands laid on her chest, cradling her heart begging for it not to break. not to give up on her. attempting to ease the screaming and kicking child that manifested itself through her exhausted wails. re-reading the last line over and over again like it was a prayer. a saving grace.

she'd be able to see her mom again. her mom wanted her to come home. to make amends and move on with a new life together. and who was she to deny the opportunity? the moment she had been waiting for her whole life. nothing was going to stop this from happening now,

the next day at the office, she put in a resignation notice for the next two days, giving her time to get what little affairs she had in order before taking the bus to her hometown.

it only took an afternoon for her abrupt resignation to get back to leon. at first, he hoped that it was a lie, just some office gossip that fell victim to the telephone effect. ‘she isn't leaving,’ leon told himself. ‘just taking a few days off.’ but seeing everyone wish her well, leon knew it wasn't a lie.

the after party was nothing but a parade of his loss. leon stood by the drink table watching her smile and laugh like there was nothing wrong. leon grew more agitated as the clock ticked by. he couldn't understand why she would want to leave him. she didn't even bother to mention it in any of her recent letters. leon made you happy, you told him that many times. so why would you ever want to leave? why wouldn't she tell him?

which led to this, a planned conversation turned into an ambush. 

leon waited for her in the parking lot for two hours, going over a multitude of strategies to make this as fast as possible. how to get her alone if someone was with her. what to do if she fought back. if she screamed. if she ran. everything was in place to bring her home.

there was absolutely no hesitation when he saw her walking through the parking lot alone. leon couldn't help but smile at that.

did she not want anyone to walk her to the bus stop? or was this her way of begging him to take her. leon is going to choose to believe what makes him happier. 

it was quicker than what leon thought, but then again he's had training for this sort of thing. 

he waited until she had passed the car he was waiting behind, using the lack of light to his advantage. then he struck from behind, she never had a chance to think of her next move. to comprehend what was even happening. 

leon held a tight hand over mouth to silence her, using his other hand to squeeze her windpipe. she struggled for what seemed to be a few minutes until her body laid limp in his arms. leon carried her to his vehicle, placing her limp body in the backseat.

this would teach her not to be such a tease.

₊˚⊹ ᥫ᭡. 𓂃

she woke up with a feeling of a severe hangover. a migraine that sharply, pounded in the back of her eyes. which didn’t help when the world was spinning like an out-of-control tea cup ride. needless to say, she wasn’t feeling too well. 

she tried her best to stand, having difficulty digging herself out of the seemingly endless pile of blankets and pillows, but it seemed like the moment her feet touched the ground, so did her whole body. she felt like a baby deer learning to stand for the first time. every wobbly limb felt as if it were made of lead. 

sounds of footsteps came from another room, then the quiet creak of the door. whoever it was spoke up, voice seemingly soft. she couldn't make out the words due to it all sounding muffled. like they were talking through a styrofoam cup.

big, calloused hands grabbed onto her weak form to hold her close to them. she whined at the sudden action, head still feeling heavy and dizzy. "it's okay, sweet girl. it's alright, i'm here." a male voice sweetly cooing, but still foggy. 

warm, is what she thought. whoever this someone is felt warm like laundry right out of the dryer. it felt good. it felt comfortable. 

he swayed a little as he held her, feeling the soft vibrations of his voice through their chest as they spoke soft affirmations. “you’re doing so well, pretty girl. everything’s okay, just go to sleep.”

this moment made her think of her mom, a time before everything kinda went to shit between them. she missed her. she missed her cooking. she missed her voice. she missed her soothing touch. she missed her laugh. she just really missed her mom.

she tried her best not to cry as she melted into the person's touch. instead allowing herself to be lulled by the feeling of his calloused pads smoothing over the surface of her skin. 

she could've fallen back asleep in this person's arms if she hadn't realized this whole thing was wrong. this is not where she is supposed to be. she was supposed to be on a bus heading back home, not in some random man’s arms. and this is not home. 

her eyes widened, her muscles tensed and her heart felt like it stopped. the migraine suddenly not as blaring as it was when she woke up. whoever this was no longer felt soothing and inviting, but invasive and perverted. 

she tried her best to push herself away and get a view of her surroundings, anything that could help her understand where she was, but this man just wouldn’t let go. instead pressing her body closer to his, almost smothering her, feeling like a puppy being held hostage by some snobby kid. she was panicking and wanted out badly, but she was out of options. not much a person can do with blurry vision and a heavy body. 

so once again she let herself fall into them, slowly wrapping her heavy arms around them, gripping their shirt for more stability. she rested her head in the crook of their neck and her kidnapper seemed pleased, letting out a relieved sigh. that’s when she struck, with as much strength her sleepy limbs could muster, she kneed them in the groin. 

her kidnapper released a painful groan and pushed her away from him. the second she felt her body hit the ground for the second time in the span of a few minutes, she was scrambling to the door. but just as she was about to make it past the threshold, she was once again met with the floor. there was a painful grip on her ankle, she looked down, shocked at who she saw. 

there he was, leon kennedy, gripping like a vice onto her ankle. but she didn’t have time to question him, the police could do that for her. the minute they both locked eyes, she planted her foot as hard as she could on his face, making contact with his nose. leon groaned and released her again, trying his hardest to calm himself as blood now dripped from his nose, watching her scurry off.

"———," his voice was scarily calm as he called from somewhere behind her. "you need to stop." leon's words fell on death's ears as he watched her clumsily navigate the house. 

in her hurry and confusion, she stumbled to the first window she saw, but it wouldn't budge. neither did the next one or the next one and the one after that. all the windows seem to be fixed, designed to never open. 

"no, no, please," she mumbled to no one but herself, banging on the windows. she grabbed whatever object was closer to her, chucking it at the glass, but nothing happened. she would’ve continued if she hadn’t heard leon coming down the stairs. 

the floorplan of the house was pretty simple, so it didn’t take her long to find the front door. her face drained of color when she saw a keypad on the handle. that didn’t stop her from banging, yanking, and scratching at the door with everything she had. she did that until her throat felt like it was on fire and her legs couldn’t hold her up anymore. there was no hope for her, he’s trapped her here.

big hands gripped her arms as they forced her down on a chair, she tried fighting but her efforts seemed pointless. leon harshly glared down, looking scarier with his bodied nose, her name coming out of his mouth like a warning. "stop." was all he said. 

"you can't keep me here, leon." she looked up at him, pleading while trying to hide the discomfort of leon's hands on her shoulders. "please, leon. ya' gotta let me go." the words came out strained, choking on the air she was trying to let in. "you have to."

as much as it pained him to see her like this, leon almost wanted to laugh. no, he didn't have to let her go. he wasn't going to let her go. not when she was already here, nice and safe at home with him. leon just shook his head, rejecting the notion of her words. “if i did,” leon stated, “who would you run to?” 

“what?” was all you could say, not expecting that question. “i have people that care about me, leon. they’ll wonder where i am.”

leon shook his head, telling her that her answer was wrong. “no, they won’t.” what he said next took what little hope she had. “you’re supposed to be on a bus heading home. everybody knows where you are.” he stayed quiet for a while before starting up again.

"so think hard about it." leon leaned in close to her face, crouching at eye level, hands on his knees. he huffed a laugh in her face. 

"even if you somehow leave me, somehow ditch it outta here," leon was closer than he was before, closer than what she was comfortable with. he just watched as she cried, shaking her head as she pleaded with him. in a taunting way, he squints his eyes and tilts his head. "who would you go to, hm?" he pauses, waiting for her to answer. she doesn't have one. leon can't help but huff out a small laugh at the lack of response. 

he was right. she’s the same as him. she has no one, just like him. and that helps leon get a little more comfortable with the situation. getting a little more cocky. so he leans in more, breath fanning the shell of her ear. 

"the wilderness isn't the only terrifying thing out there, ya'know. just beyond those doors." leon's nose slightly nudging the space before her ear. "the people," she could feel leon's smirk grow without even needing to see it. she didn't want to make eye contact with him. "they'll fucking eat you alive." leon's cobalt eyes peered at her, waiting for any response. again, she never gives him one. instead she just opted to silently side-eye him back, eyes wide in disbelief at the words coming out of his mouth.

"so i would suggest you being my good girl," he mutters into her cheek, his chapped lips brushing softly against her skin, looking at her through his lashes. "and just stay here at home." finally he presses a few chaste kisses to her cheek.

with that he stands, stretching a little before turning around and heading to the kitchen. she didn't move, blankly watching him walk over to the fridge. trying to catch her breathing from all the crying.

"how about a snack, after all of that?" he asked with a smile, eyes warm as if nothing happened between the two of them. like moments ago she wasn't just trying to claw the door off its hinges. like if she wasn't sitting there, tied up, terrified of the man in front of her. 

the air was tense as she watched leon move around the kitchen without a care in the world. as if all was well.

'he's a fucking freak.' she thought.

₊˚⊹ ᥫ᭡. 𓂃

note: i am no writer. please, have mercy. this is all purely self-indulgent. a silly little thought.

[soupandsimple]

Bathtub Spider (with James Potter )

[ boyfriend James getting rid of a spider for you ]

* fluff! tiny suggestive comment at the end

** still here, just been busy with other things/don’t want to force writing! but here’s a little something 😘

……………

“James!”

“What?”

You poke your head out the bathroom and wait for him to appear. He knows by now that if you don’t reply to his what it’s because you need him to come to wherever you are.

“What is it?” he asks now, coming down the hallway.

“There’s a spider in here!” you say, opening the door further for him to enter. “In the bathtub! I hope it hasn’t got away, I was about to run a bath when I saw it just sitting there!”

James looks in the tub and sees the medium sized spider you were referring to. “Right, well first of all, A.) why wasn’t I invited to your little bath party and B.) where’s the cardboard and cup?”

You hated when creepy, crawly things came inside but you also hated seeing them get killed. The cardboard in question was just any piece of flat paper you could get your hands on when this occurred, and the cup was an old, clear plastic cup that used to have a lid before it broke that was now just used to water your indoor plants.

“I just told you what happened, how could I already have those things? I couldn’t leave the bathroom unattended in case the spider tried to leave! I’ll be right back” you say, sprinting out the room to get the items needed.

James chuckles at your jumpiness and looks down at the spider, “Don’t worry we’ll get you out of here alive. She’s a literal sweetheart, she couldn’t bear it any other way” he happily assures it.

With no time wasted, you run back in with a sturdy, throwaway advertisement that came in the mail that morning and the plant water cup and hand them to James.

Let it be known, James was no more a fan of bugs than you. Seeing them from a distance didn’t bother him but having to get up nice and close to get them in between the cardboard and the cup was not an easy chore. For you and only you, he’d gladly do it but never without a bit of internal panic.

“Okay..fuck...” his voice shakes as he bends down toward the tub. “C’mon let’s make this easy pal,” he asks of the spider but instead of it climbing onto the paper James held out in front of it, the spider tries to scurry off in the opposite direction.

You let out a little shriek and run for the door to escape but with a quick (no doubt, fight or flight) maneuver, James manages to get it.

“I got it baby, don’t worry!” he tells you, slowly standing up with the spider safe and alive between the cup and paper.

He exhales a sigh of relief now that the hard part is over and keeps an eye on the spider as you quickly lead him to the front door of the flat. You’re on the third floor of the building so he has some ways to go with the trapped arachnid but appreciative you very much are. “Thank you for getting it honey, love you so much” you say, opening the door with a sweet kiss to his cheek.

“Yeah yeah, you better be naked by the time I get back” he teases as he steps out. <3

[himegureisu]

Hello! So, l've read your mini mail series and I was wondering if you could write a oneshot where reader sends Snape a long black scarf with their initials on the first day of school as she was away when he left?

Scarves and Hearts

A/N: Yes, I'm here switching fandoms because I'm stuck on the other one. It's about time also that I did this. I hope you like it!

——————————— 🪄———————————

It was the first breakfast of the first day in Hogwarts.

Their students, sorted and seated, at their respective tables provided lively background noise in contrast to the polite conversations at the High Table. On his right, the headmaster, Professor Dumbledore has been talking but he didn’t register the words.

No, he’s been surly ever since your absence this morning.

Your side of the bed was cold, breakfast cooked, and a note on the pillow about why you were gone. There were times he hated your job more than his. This was one of those times.

“Oh,” the newest Weasley addition to Gryffindor, Ronald, or Ron, said, accompanied by the hoots of owls flying in, “The mail’s here,”

His mood quickly changes at the sight of your owls together, carrying a present in silver wrapper and silk green ribbon, a note attached, as they land in front of him, and read.

I’m sorry I missed the start of the term. I hope that this’ll keep you warm in my absence.

I love you always.

A smile tugs at the corners of his lips, Dumbledore and McGonagall’s attention caught by the sound of rustling paper to see their Potion’s Professor unraveling a very soft and thick crocheted scarf in green and silver.

On one end, instead of the Slytherin House Crest, there was the shape of your shared patronus. On the other end, at the front side were his initials, on the back, surprisingly, were yours.

“That’s a lovely scarf there, Severus,” Minerva commented, from the other side of the headmaster who said, “A work of love,”

“Yes, it is,” he paused, admiring your work, “Very lovely indeed,”

From a distance, at Gryffindor Table, the Weasleys, Granger, and Potter huddle closer as Ron briefly glances at the High Table, where Severus starts to pack the scarf, and asks.

“What do you reckon of that?” he observes, his head of house, the headmaster, and his hated professor amicably talking, “Do you think it’s a woman?”

“I can’t even imagine,” Harry frowns, at the sight of Professor McGonagall giving them a look, “Someone at the Professor’s side,”

“There could be,” Hermione carefully says, as the boys suddenly look her way, “You never know. What Professor Snape may be to us could be different to any other person,”

“We honestly don’t know,” George adds their two cents on the matter, as he observes the Potions’ Master leave, “But what we do know is that whenever like that comes he’s much more tolerable to be around with,”

“Truly?” Ron turns to his brothers, and Fred nods, “Yeah, you’ll know if he reduces homework by a page, or deducts fewer house points than usual,”

“I guess we’ll find out later then,” Hermione remarks, as the bell rings throughout the castle, and ushers Harry and Ron to stand. “Time to go,”

Their second class was Potions and, in this case, the Weasley twins were right. There was less a page of parchment on their essay and he didn’t insult Hermione when she interjected to answer the question no one wanted to.

In time, when the first snowfall arrives at one of the Hogsmeade weekends’, the Potion’s Master could be seen wearing the scarf he’d received in the mail months before adding a splash of color to his usual black robes, bearing an almost happy facade. His initials on the front, and yours on the back, hidden and kept near to his heart.

[seancekitsch]

Hi if you're open to requests: could you do an Adrian x fem reader with the premise of them having known eachother in highschool and sticking together as ostracized weirdos. Reader leaves evergreen after graduating HS and comes back 10 years later and runs into Adrian. I love your writing and how you characterize Adrian!!

hi hi hi i hope you enjoy this it got away from me and now its a full blown fic

A Homecoming

warnings: best friends to strangers to lovers, gut chase is his own warning, maybe ooc, angry drunk sex, bad speeches, love confessions, angry fluff if that makes sense, happy ending even tho both idiots are in their bag down bad

“How the fuck did Laura meet Gut Chase of all people?” you whisper to yourself as you pick out produce to stock the fridge of your Airbnb. It's a crappy one bedroom house on what was once the nicer side of town, the side with lovely little suburbs away from all of the apartments and trailer parks that people turned their nose up at. You remember those noses turned up at you for your lovely little apartment that you called a childhood home. Now it feels freaky to be on the other side, in a rancher in a suburb with cute little pinterest craft-esque decor on the walls and a Friends reference as the wi-fi password. Fucking yuck.

You never expected to be back in Evergreen after high school, especially not for a wedding. You flew across the country for college to basically avoid this very situation, but here you are. Your college roommate who got a job in Seattle bringing you back to your home town to marry easily the biggest douche from your high school. Your invitation to the fifteen year reunion came in the mail and was thrown directly into the trash several months ago muttering about how they even fucking found your newest address, and then the fuckin save the date from Laura came behind it. You’d known Laura was dating some gym trainer, you knew she said he was from a small town. She’s always been one to fall fast and hard, and you can count on more fingers than you've got the amount of times through college and grad school she had cried over a failed date with “the one” before getting back in the proverbial saddle.

You fondle an onion and think about the last time you saw Gut Chase. It was… the morning after your graduation. The morning you left for Gotham. He was sat at the breakfast bar of their house sipping coffee and raising an eyebrow at you trying to sneak out of his house for once instead of into it. 

Now having taken that trip for the first time in reverse, your long taxi ride from the airport to the airbnb felt like a death march. You’d left behind so much and burned any bridges that could have been left here.

June 2008

“The guys are never going to believe this.”

“Dude, you’re not telling any guys about this,” you laugh, wrapping yourself around Adrian’s torso, the lean muscle taught under his skin as he laughs with you. You weight dips and moves on the trampoline below you, the stupid double wide sleeping bag doing nothing for your back, especially after you’ve been standing in heels all day and sweating in your graduation cap and gown. 

“But then I can finally tell Gut and Chris it’s just that I’m a late bloomer! And if I don’t tell them it was you they won’t believe me!” Adrian exclaims, not at all worried by the open windows of his own house or the other backyards that the dawn is going to slowly creep over. You roll your eyes, your best friend always consumed with impressing his older brother and his friends. 

“That's not a thing. Isn’t it enough that we had this?” you ask, you cheek pressing into his bare chest. His legs tangle in the early summer heat under the cheap sleeping bag.

“No!” He exclaims, laughing like you should be in on it too, but you don’t laugh with him. Your virginity was never important to you, it’s just that everyone else in Evergreen sucks. He’s the only one that you would have deemed worthy anyway. 

You figured: You leave for college tomorrow, he’s the best person you know, and he’s hot even if he doesn’t know it. You’re both virgins- or- you were until you dragged him out into the backyard around two in the morning after passing back and forth a bottle of peach schnapps that he had been arguing about with you all night until he figured out it tasted like candy; the party his older brother hosting in yours and Adrian’s name very quickly became not about you and about him and his friends who had graduated a few years prior. 

Tomorrow you’ll be a month away from being eighteen and across the country by yourself and you haven’t told anyone but your mother, but it hasn’t quite hit you yet. It can’t when a sticky condom was thrown across the yard twenty minutes ago, and That’s Not My Name by the Ting Tings is bass boosted and floating in the air from the house, and Adrian Chase just gave you your first orgasm. 

“Maybe it is,” he admits, his voice now heavy with sleep. You don’t know when he falls asleep, but you leave before he wakes.

Your hand shakes at self check out, wondering if Adrian and his brother patched things up enough to be a groomsman. Laura made you a bridesmaid over FaceTime, talking your ear off about how much Dorian wasn’t her normal type but when you know you know, you know? And even then it never struck you to remember that Gut’s real name is Dorian. Maybe you’d be paired up, and maybe Adrian had changed enough in this span of time to forgive you and look you in the eye. You don’t count on it, honestly, you expect him to throw a fit the second he sees you. You don’t blame him for that hypothetical reaction either. It’s been over a decade with two degrees six terrible boyfriends and only one friend who ever came close to how special Adrian was for you. And now she’s marrying Adrian’s dickhead brother.

Its only a few minutes after you load the dirty old fridge of your airbnb (definitely only getting three stars, the place is sketch) that you phone rings, Laura’s contact illuminating the dull lighting of the kitchen. You put her on facetime while you load the pantry. 

“BITCH!” she screams, her smile illuminating a dim screen as her voice cuts through all of the loud background noise, “Where are you?”

You laugh, tossing the veggie chips into the back of the pantry.

“Where am I?” you scoff, “I’m at my Airbnb, I was about to throw on a bad movie and drink some wine. Where are you, Miss Bride?”

She puts the phone up close to her face, only her eye showing as she fake whispers into the mic.

“I’m at Hooters,” she confides like its the funniest secret.

“Oh, with Mr. Groom?” you ask, teasing her as you reach for the bottle and the corkscrew, one of the few amenities left to you in the drawers. 

“With tha whooooole wedding party,” she draws out the words without taking the phone away from her eye.

“You had their LIT’s, didn't you?” you ask, narrowing your eyes at her. 

“And I just bought one for you,” she confirms, “So you better get an uber or I’m going to switch out your bridesmaid dress for an Aquaman costume.”

“You slut!” you shout, swiping up on her call to obey her and pull up uber, “You wouldn't. Aquaman is such a chump.”

“So get over here!” she laughs, and it's infectious. God, you've missed Laura. Sure, you facetime twice a week, but she lived with you for six years and it's like losing a hand to lose her being just a few layers of drywall away at all times. 

“I am, I am! Its ordered,” you assure her, and a comfortable silence settles, she sips her drink, her hand clawlike to hold both hers and yours so she can hold her phone in the other. 

“You know he fucks the fish, right?” you ask.

“You're the second person to say that tonight!”

The uber to Hooters is quick, thank god. The bright lights feeling harsh on your skin and you really wish Laura hadn't threatened you with the costume. It’s manipulation at its finest. You had the most recent kissing booth movie right there ready to be made fun of over your coffee mug full of wine. But no, you have to stand around in a Hooters in your hometown. Youre flooded with relief, however, when you walk past the hostess stand and clock that theres a touchtunes machine in the corner so you can at least entertain yourself with awful song choices. You know who would love hearing the Monster Mash followed by Call Me Maybe? You and Laura. Especially after she tries to pour that LIT down your throat the moment she sees you. 

“There she is!” Laura shouts, helping you tilt back the glass immediately. It's just like college again, your days back in Gotham where you’d wander away from the college bars and see how much liquor you could get for your money. 

“Mm, holy shit,” you cry out, barely able to down the drink in one go, “That's how you snagged your groom?”

She crinkles her nose at you,her blonde hair falling in her face as she leans in close.

“He happened to like my squat thrust, I know I have to work harder than that to win you over,” she quips, and you rub your nose with hers before pushing yourself out of her arms reach. 

“Now where is he? Who are these bridesmaids I’m sharing my spotlight with?” you ask, letting her lead you further in towards the bar. 

Gut Chase himself meets you halfway across the restaurant.

“Y/N!” He shouts, “You’re kidding me! I thought Laura-girl was joking when she said she knew you.”

“Gut!” you shout back, surprising yourself that you're actually sort of happy to see the familiar face. He pulls you under his bicep quickly, ruffling your hair as if you were his little sibling. 

“She was so weird after she got kicked off the cheer squad,” he explains to his fiancee, “She spent all her time in my basement with my little brother! This one lived with us.”

“Oh, Adrian?” she asks hesitantly trying to remember his brother's name , and something weird twinges in your chest.

“Yeah,” you manage to get out, your voice and your breath practically leaving you. 

Is he here? Does he hate you? Does he miss you? The first few years without him were tough, you would turn to tell him something or think of something funny you had to say and it all just had to float into the wind, forgotten. Then Laura sort of filled that gap. Then your D&D group. But the Adrian sized hole can only be squeezed into, never full filled, never a perfect fit. 

“Yo, Adrian!” Gut calls out before you can stop him, “Get your ass over here!”

Gut releases his grip on you and a man across the bar looks up from his phone. 

And it's like time slows down, and as he slides off the barstool “Foxy” by Jimi Hendrix floods the air like that scene in Wayne's World. Its like he moves in slow motion, his sweater doing nothing to obscure his physique and muscles, his glasses doing nothing to hide those beautiful eyes of his. He's changed so much, but not at all, just filled out what was already there. You're not sure if it's the LIT or the sight of him that's making your knees feel like they’re buckling.

“Why is she here?” Adrian asks his brother, his posture straight and tone unreadable, and Gut gives him a warning look. You almost pity Laura that you didn't brief her on on your intimate knowledge of the family she was marrying into.

“Bro…” Gut warns him, less than subtle. You've seen this before, but in high school, Gut would have just hit Adrian already or called him a pussy.

“Hey, uh, Gut? Sorry, Dorian?” he turns his attention to you as you correct yourself, “Why don't you take my dear Laura for another LIT? I could use another one too.”

Laura looks at you like you've got three heads for commanding the situation, but gladly lets her fiance lead her back over to order another, whispering to you that she’ll bring yours on Gut’s tab. 

Adrian stares at you, looking you up and down, sizing you up… not sexually, maybe… maybe? Wouldn't be the worst thing, he’s always been handsome to you, but he's really filled out. 

“Why are you here?” he asks you directly, his knuckles turning white around his beer. 

“I….,” words fail you for a moment, breath hitching in your throat as a million things want to spill from your lips. 

I’m sorry, I’ve always regretted leaving you, I wanted you to come with me, I wish I took you with me, I compared even the stupidest tinder date to you, I want to make you laugh, I loved you since I was a kid, Even Laura doesn’t get me like you do. 

But you don’t say any of that. You can’t. 

“I’m here for the wedding,” you say, holding it all back even though you could collapse into his arms at any moment. 

“Me too,” He says, “Only I’ve been here and who knows where you were.”

Okay; you deserve that snark from him. 

“I know. I’m sorry I didn’t call.”

An understatement of the century but it’ll do for now. If you say too much, you’ll cry. You cannot cry in a Hooters. 

“Or say goodbye?”

“I know, I’m sorry for that too. I’m sorry for everything.”

Adrian’s arms fall around you, the cold heel of the bottle of the glass digging between your shoulder blades as you lean into the hug against him. It feels like home being in his arms again, only now the arms are filled out with muscle and he

“I’m sorry too,” Adrian offers, but there's no real emotion behind it. You can tell he doesn't really mean it; an empty thing to say just because he thinks he should, but that doesn't bother you.

“There's nothing to be sorry for, “ you console him genuinely, your hand rubbing up against his henley covered bicep. 

“I know, I’m just saying that. I’m not the one who abandoned my best friend. Now I have a new best friend!”

You pull back, not at all upset because you expect that too, and at this moment Laura comes back with your LIT. 

“For courage,” she whispers not at all subtly in your ear before kissing your cheek and running back to her fiance. 

“Why do you need courage?” Adrian asks, not pretending he didn't hear that.

“Cause I never should have left… and you look really good.”

It's definitive, it's out there. You can't and you won't take it back for anything. It's the truth. You love Laura and the fact that you met her but you absolutely should not have left Adrian to do it. 

You take the straw to your mouth and suck, not pulling away from Adrian, instead your hand still around his back clawing into his sweater to keep him there. 

“You look really good too! Pretty, because women don't like being called hot.”

You dont know where he got that from, but you accept the compliment nonetheless. 

“You know, I was really mad at you for like a year, but then I just got over it, I figured you were trying to teach me some weird lesson about missed opportunities or acting out part of some romantic comedy but then you didn't come back and… I’ll shut up now,” he says, misreading your attention on him as a bad thing. 

“I wanted to call you back,” you admit, “But how do I call you and say: Hey, I’m in Gotham now! Even though we were supposed to get dinner tonight I guess I wont be making those plans. I didnt know what to do.”

“I could have come with you!”

You both know thats a fucking lie. 

“I’m glad I got to see you,” you offer, the words so bittersweet on your tongue. His eyes search your face, and you realize then you probably should have re-applied some make up. Its set into your face from the flight this morning and all of the errands you've run. You probably look like some kind of victim. 

"Me too, because honesty I've thought about that night a lot. I've tried to rank where it falls between all the threesomes I've had."

Weird flex, but, okay.

"I do too," you admit as you grab the straw for another sip, "not the threesomes thing, but I think about it... about you."

Something about Adrian's gaze has you open and honest, moreso than you would normally be with a man. But then again, Adrian isn't just some man...

“Finish that,” he tells you, his eyes zeroed in to where your lips and the straw connect. You obey, drinking what you can before putting the glass down on the nearest empty table. 

“Adrian I-” You get cut off by his lips capturing yours; Adrian kisses you with a passion you haven’t felt in fucking years, the passion of someone who actually cared. Sure, you've had boyfriends and girlfriends, but none have kissed you like this. 

Instead of hot and bothered you feel cold… and wet.

“Adrian, what the fuck-?” you whisper when you can break away, something dripping down your leg. His beer spilling as he tilts the bottle carelessly to grip you better. You break away from him to shake the beer off of your jeans, a puddle forming on the ground. He scrambles to right the turned bottle and place it on the same table as your LIT.

“I have no idea what I’m doing, I’m not good at understanding people,” he admits to you as if you didnt spend all of high school attached at the hip, and this time you kiss him, your hands coming up to cup his clean-shaven jawline.

The next thing you know, you're back at your airbnb, having Irish goodbye’d to Laura and Gut and without meeting or talking to the rest of the wedding party. Youre being a bad friend and a bad bridesmaid and you know it. You hadn’t had the chance to ask Adrian why Gut was so friendly to him, though Laura might have a hand in that. You hadn’t had the chance to ask where he worked, what he liked to do, who Adrian now was really. 

 Adrian’s mouth barely leaves yours the second the door is closed, instead backing you quickly into what he correctly guessed is the bedroom of the house. His reflexes are sharp, unlike the awkward teen he was, and he knows how to perfectly steer you to your bed for the next week.

You walk backwards awkwardly until your calves meet the boxspring unceremoniously. He tilts you back until you fall on your own, your elbows catching you as he follows suit and crawls on top of your figure. You don't know where the confidence comes from, but then again it had fifteen years to form in him. Adrian pulls off your shoes and your pants quickly as he moves up the bed, not even trying to hide his prowess, moving like some kind of well trained machine. He’s come to impress even though he's done more than that by simply not snubbing you or telling you off in the middle of a Hooters, although both would have been deserved.

But you; You feel like you're back out on that trampoline again, your graduation dress pushed up around your waist, all too bare under him. No time has passed, it’s all so familiar -

“I should hate you” he states, his lips hovering over your navel, “But it's weird, I don't! In fact, I feel like I should be thanking you. If hadn't left and rejected me so hard I wouldn't have gotten so buff and good looking.”

“You should hate me,” you agree, your breath and your words feeling lost in your chest under the weight of him on top of you. His lips travel from your navel to your ribcage, pushing your shirt up as he goes, leaving a trail of fire in their path. You arch your back into his motions, your hands helping him pull the shirt off, awkwardly shuffling until you can fling it to some random corner of the room. Adrian’s eyes widen when he sees your bralette, mesh and flimsy and hiding nothing from him.

He pulls one of the dark blue mesh cups down, immediately latching his lips around your pert nipple, sucking and earning a sharp inhale of breath from you. He chuckles against your skin at your reaction to him, and then does it again. Cocky asshole. You can't help but compare this to the trampoline. He was so unsure, fumbling and almost tearful at the fear of fucking something up. You led the way, urged him on. Adrian now needs no urging, no guidance in making you squirm beneath him. His lips release your nipple, and he bites down at the top of the swell of your breast, sure to leave a mark. Youll have to remember to put a spoon in the freezer tomorrow morning or else you could end up with a wardrobe malfunction for the wedding. Cocky bastard, you think, leaving his mark on you. 

But really, he’d left so many marks on you that still havent faded. Its the way your ringtone from high school never changed, its the way you bought only the brands of locks Adrian said were best for each apartment you've had, its the way you buy things in teal if theres the option. Your fucking spatula back home is one of his many marks.

“Ah!” you yelp when his bite gets a little too hard, your perfectly manicured fake nails digging into his back. Adrian laughs again and pulls himself up to reach your neck, his hands exploring everywhere they can, teasing at your chest, your waist, your hips. 

“Fuck me,” you plead as his lips connect with the pulsepoint on your throat.

“Youre sure?” He asks, “You know, you shouldn’t fuck someone who should hate you. That's just asking for complications.”

And although he gives you an out, he’s already gone back to kissing and licking at your throat and groping at every curve of your body. You're thinking with your pussy, not your mind right now. You know there should be a conversation instead of whats happening right now. Maybe some tears shed, maybe a nostalgic movie and some honest explanations on your part. 

But you don't initiate any of that.

“Then fuck me like you hate me,” you say instead.

Adrian grinds his jean clad length against your core, and you whine, girlish and high pitched and embarrassing. He shushes you, removing himself from your grasp to yank off his sweater and undershirt, then his jeans all discarded over the edge of the foot of the bed. 

He moves to you, working your panties down your legs until you can kick them off the bed at your ankles, and sheds his boxers with them. His eyes follow the trail of your legs to your center, already dripping and ready for him. 

“You really want that?” he asks, and it sounds rhetorical. You didnt know Adrian could do that. He traces his calloused hands up the insides of your thighs, letting his fingertips tease you where you need him most. You nod fervently, arching your back to try to reach him, bring him closer.

“Please?” you ask, wanton and pathetic under him. He draws his thumb between your folds, testing the metaphorical waters. He draws low, anticipation laced moans from your lips, teasing and slow.��

And then without warning pushes two fingers into you. 

Your gasp echoes against the cliches wall decor, rattling the glass of the live laugh love frame, shaking the flimsy bedframe. 

He does not start slowly, no, he gives you no mercy in his motions, his smirk teasing and taunting you as he thrusts his hand.

“Adrian, I- Fuck!” you struggle to find the words, your hands moving to his forearms and digging your nails in, trying to hold on for dear life. 

“This is what you wanted, right?” he asks. Fuck, you didn’t know Adrian could talk like this. And to think, you could have had this the whole time if you just stayed here. 

“Yeah,” you whine, “Yeah, please.”

You're not sure what youre begging for. To cum? To feel him? You just want more. 

“I’ll give you exactly what you want,” he leans down like he’s going to kiss you, and then instead nips at your lip before pulling back. Its cruel. 

His fingers move in, out, in, out, inout, and then slow to a halt inside you. You squirm under him, needing him to do anything. Anything. 

“I can feel you squeezing me,” he says, and you flush in embarrassment, neediness and heat settling in your chest.

“Adrian, I need you,” Your voice sounds far away, underwater, foreign to your ears. Who is this person? How and when did you ever get this needy, this desperate? His smile grows, but it does not give you any comfort. 

Adrian removes his fingers from you, lifting them up to his nose to smell them.

“Like fucking candy,” he remarks, and pushes his boxers down, easily discarding them. 

He leans back down, his weight on you once more. A weighted blanket, a comfort as his chest presses against yours. You kiss him, the way a smoker needs a cigarette, pulling and all consuming; your hands find purchase in his hair, your body fully reactive to every tiny movement of his lips against yours. His tongue sweeps across your lips, easily parting them the same way he easily parted your legs. He moves against you, rock hard in the crux of your thigh, his big hands holding your hips in place as he finds his way. Adrian probes along, pushing his hips in slow teasing motions until he finds his rightful spot at your center. 

“I’m gonna make you hate me,” he whispers between kisses, and you brace yourself against him, foreheads touching and his glasses fogged. 

He pushes into you with a groan, bottoming out and giving you the grace to adjust before he starts to move.

Adrian’s hips rock you, the whole bed, your whole world, your hands tighten around his curls as they pick up in pace, the rhythm of the bedframe banging against the bed punctuating each of his movements.  He picks up his pace quickly, and you move in time easily, rolling your hips to meet his with each thrust. 

“Fffffuck,” you stutter, losing control of your lips, your tongue, both moving of their own accord and saying shit. There’s a war in your brain, part of you wants to stay in control, wants to make sense of this; the other side wants everything Adrian to overtake everything you. 

“I’m gonna make you hate me,” he repeats, switching up his angle to make your next moan a pitiful squeak in your throat. 

“You,” you gasp again, “You said that.”

His hands roam the geography of your body, mapping each curve and dip of you, not missing a single centimeter. Everything he touches turns to flame, hot under him and hot under his touch, pushing you closer and closer to your boiling point. 

You won't last long, you know that. Adrian moans above you, dragging his lips against the corner of yours as he moves, closer and closer.

And then he pulls out. You whine at the missing contact, the chill that sets in without his heat in your orbit. You pout, lips messy and swollen. 

“Turn over,” he demands, moving his finger in a circle to demonstrate his intention. You obey quickly, pushing yourself onto your hands and knees. His hands land first on your ass, smacking both sides of your cheeks and whispering “hell yeah” in a tone you're definitely sure you weren't supposed to hear. His hands then slide from your ass to your hip, then to your back. He unclips your bra and lets the straps fall down your shoulders.

He bends down over you, letting his chest press into your bare back as he presses a kiss to the space where your neck and shoulder meet. 

“Down, girl,” he says, as one of his big hands starts to push your shoulder down until you cave into his movements, folding into the bed until your face hits the pillow.

Fuck, all control of the situation you had, you’ve lost. The ground crumbling out from under you and Adrian can mold and manipulate you any way he wants to, and you want him to. 

His free hand strokes down the curve of your back, and then leaves you, only to position himself back at your entrance. 

“Oh, you look beautiful like this,” Adrian sighs, sounding strained. You've always trusted Adrian to be honest, and you can believe he means it, like he would worship you face down ass up.

He presses his length into you slowly, letting you feel every inch of him, a glacial pace until he’s fully sheathed. 

Adrian wiggles his hips when theyre fully against your ass, and you huff in laughter, giggling into the pillow before he silences you with a rough thrust. 

This new angle feels like the wind has been knocked out of you, but in a way that you want to feel over and over again, in a way that makes you feel breathless and alive. The next thrust and the one after that leave you gasping and struggling for air, the ones after it drawing high pitched whines into the silk of the pillowcases.

He pistons into you quickly after that, like a man with something to prove. He presses his full length into you each time, and each time hitting a spot inside you that has you feeling fuzzy and hot all over. His hand returns to your hip to  guide his motions and yours. 

You chase your high, rocking back into his thrusts and meeting each of them half way. Your moans are swallowed in the silk, wrapped and buried down deep into the mattress, rooted in him and the moment. 

“How am I doing?” he asks, and sensuality gone from his voice, but thats just Adrian.

You moan in response, his fingers digging into your skin, sure to leave crescent moons in your skin that would last far into the morning.

“Close,” you manage to squeak out, your voice barely audible, but Adrian picks up on what you're trying to say. 

“Yeah? You wanna come on my dick?” he asks, but doesn’t give you a choice otherwise. Adrian moves his hand from gripping your hip to between your legs. His fingers circle your clit, just the right amount of pressure to make it feel like you're about to snap. 

“Please,” you whine, arching your back further into the friction.

“Let go, baby, let go,” he coaxes you, his lips against your spine and you finally give in to him. 

He slows and kisses your shoulder while you ride your high, whispering praise against your skin as you shudder beneath him, his whole frame bent over yours. His hand leaves your clit and both come up to hug around your waist, anchoring you to him and the world and bringing you back down. All you can think of is that you could have had this the whole time. Fifteen years of this. 

But then he returns to his former position, the hand on your shoulder returning there as he picks up the pace again. It stings when he starts to move, but not terribly. A soothing burn that you find yourself rocking back into without a second thought. 

“Where can I?” He asks through gritted teeth, lifting his hand off of your shoulder so you can lift your head up. 

“Inside,” you answer, voice still muffled by the pillow, "I'll get plan b, there's always a coupon for that shit."

“Got it,” he confirms, and then speeds up his pace again. This time his hips are messy, without rhythm as his body meets yours, his voice uncontrolled as me moans without restraint. 

Even overstimulated and tired, you rock back in time to meet him, moaning each time his hip bones meet your ass. 

“Fuck, fuck, I’m gonna-” he stutters, and pulls back unceremoniously, heat streaming and filling you only seconds later. You shift slowly, trying to get your knees out from under you. 

Adrian stops you though, one of his hands a soothing comfort on your hip to guide you to a comfier position as his other hand dabs a tissue from the bedside on your back. 

He cleans you off remarkably gently, moving over you to throw himself down on the blankets beside you, his head hitting the empty second pillow. Your back feels sticky and cold, but you don't mind at all. You turn your head so at least one one your eyes can peek out at him from where you lay spent and tired, a mess of sweat and spit and butterflies in your stomach. He lays in a similar state, breathing deeply with a lazy smile across his features.

It feels right.

“Stay and cuddle?” you ask, voice wary from use and the need for sleep. You feebly move your hand toward him, reaching out to straighten his glasses.

“Sure,” he says, “But I won't be here when you wake up.”

He puts his big arm across your back, and where you should feel the familiar warmth you only feel ice. 

“Really?” you ask, but fuck, thats a mistake. You shouldn't say anything. It's an instant realization you don't want to hear anything he’s about to say. 

“It’s what we do, right?” Adrian says it like it’s a joke, but there’s venom in his words. It drips through, from his teeth to yours, and sinks in. 

He pulls you close, his actions not matching his words, and snuggles in, his hot breath fanning out against your face. His eyes close and he lets his body relax quickly. You try to do the same, but you end up staring at the ceiling fan, trying to think of any reason why Adrian would actually stay. You don't know when you fall asleep, but it's long after he does. 

True to his word, he’s not in the airbnb when you wake up. Just cold sheets and an empty glass of water and a half eaten green apple on your counter. That's all to signify he was even here, that you and your best friend had a sleepover after fifteen years. No real evidence, no trophy, not even his phone number, not even a cup left in the sink for you to clean when you do the dishes. Even the marks of his nails are fading away into nothing.

You deserve that, you think, all of Adrian’s talk of hate fucking of course wasnt a joke. When had he ever not said what he meant? He’d always told you what was on his mind, no filter and often TMI. But that doesnt stop the tears that fall, the streaking of last night's mascara down your cheekbones and the messy foundation you didn't take off. 

True to your words last night as well, before you even brush your teeth you order a plan b kit from Doordash. Now you wait, and wallow. 

It comes quickly, you take it, you feel no different.

You lay on the couch, the bed feeling weird and wrong now that it's been used and abandoned by Adrian. It's definitely going to be a long week, you think, and you debate trying to contact the airbnb host to see if you can check out early. Maybe you can take a rental car up to that town they shot Twin Peaks in and stay at the hotel or something. 

This was a mistake. All of it. You shouldn't have let Adrian kiss you, you shouldn't have kissed him. You shouldn't have wanted him. You shouldn't still want him. 

Your phone rings. Laura.

“Holy shit,” she sighs, her voice shaking, “Can I ask you the biggest favor?”

You have nothing to lose at this point, besides your comfort in the stilettos she has you wearing for the bridal party.

“Yeah, whats up?”

“I need,” her voice breaks, and you can tell it's serious. 

“Whoa, what do you need? I’ll drop everything,” you interrupt and reassure her, and it's not like you had anything scheduled but self pity until the rehearsal tonight and the dinner at Fennel Fields afterwards. Laura’s not someone you've ever liked to hear or see cry, because she never does so unless she has a good reason. 

“Gina’s plane got delayed,” she explains, “You remember Gina?”

You remember Gina well, Laura’s best friend since diapers, your Adrian basically. She was the maid of honor and you were basically second in command to her. 

“Babe, I know Geen,” You remind her. Gina gave you your first pot brownie.

“Well her plane got delayed and she's stuck in Metropolis on her layover until the morning of the wedding and then she still might miss hair and make up but she's not here for the rehearsal dinner speech and I don't know what to do,” Laura sucks in a desperate breath, “I don't want to cancel the dinner speeches I know Dorian's best man had a plan.”

“You don't have to,” you tell her, “You made me second in command.”

“I know, I need you to write a speech if you can.”

At this point you can tell Laura is crying on the other end of the line. 

“It's done. Don't worry your sexy little face about it,” you comfort her, not really thinking about what you're signing yourself up for but your undying loyalty to her taking over the rational thought in your mind. 

“That doesn't make sense,” her voice is still watery, but you can hear the smile through it.

“Hang up on me and go make out with Gut,” you tell her, “Leave the amateur hour to me.”

And she does just that, whispering her thanks to you as she cuts herself off. 

Oh, what have you gotten yourself into?

This fucking speech, your saving grace of a distraction. Fuck, fuck, fuck what do I say? You think. You wrack your brain on what to say, you practice, you write line after line in green glittery gel pen on a piece of stationary you found in the homes kitchen. You treat it like a stand up set, ‘yes and-ing’ yourself to death to try to think of something that doesn't sound stupid. You've never been in a long term relationship that was ever actually going anywhere. You're so incapable of wording what love is…

No, thats a lie you tell yourself. The words come easily now, the words flow like water from a fountain. 

It's not clear how you're going to go through the rehearsal and rehearsal dinner. Knowing Adrian will be in the same proximity as you; Knowing that with Adrian one kiss is too many and a thousand is never enough. You want to bash your head against the wall, but instead you save your airbnb fees and focus on doing your hair and makeup and getting dressed.

You look at the dress you brought for the rehearsal, one of two garment bags hanging on the top of the closet door. Your bridesmaid dress; an olive green, low cut, with a soft flowing skirt. And then the dress for tonight, one that was already in your closet at home from your thrifting as a broke college student; navy vintage polyester taffeta, with an extremely tight square neck bodice and a tea length skirt that puffed out. You had sewn a comically big pink heart with white lace into the bottom of the bodice a week after you had gotten it. Laura came home to you sitting with fabric and thread strewn across the floor of your shared apartment. You knew this dress was a memory between you two, and that's why you picked it for tonight. Putting it on alone is a little difficult, but you manage. The only thing Laura asked out of your comfort zone was that all bridesmaids wore silver stilettos. Fucking evil, but you throw those on the passenger seat of your rental car. 

You crinkle the paper with your speech in your hand as you clutch it against the steering wheel, and pull out of the driveway of the rancher.

The rehearsal goes smoothly, but that wasn't the part you were worried about. You only wrinkled part of your skirt under your sweaty hands but for the most part it was salvageable. You're walking with one of Gut’s coworkers, a nice guy named Mike who has also never been in a wedding before and he’s easy to use as a distraction from those green eyes you can't stand to feel on your skin. Laura is happy and that's what matters. That's what you tell yourself every time your smile falters.

You avoid his eyes at all costs as you enter the back room of Fennel Fields, taking your seat next to Laura’s mother, taking the Maid of Honor seat and looking at the fixed course menu after a polite hello to the woman who helped you find a Gotham apartment without remnants of fear gas in the venting. Adrian sits at the table diagonal from you now, a slight relief from the onslaught of him and everything about him. Your clammy hand reaches for the menu, passing it to the waiter nearby after clarifying that everything looked fine with no substitutions; everyone does the same and you try to keep yourself preoccupied by any means necessary to avoid that gaze. 

Champagne is poured and you want to drink it down, want to take the edge off in any way possible. 

But you don't. You can't. The note in your dress pocket prevents you from doing that. 

Gut’s best man goes first. He gives a lovely speech, you figure. He talks about how Laura and Gut are like puzzle pieces or something and how she’s been such a light in his life. It's odd to think that Gut’s friends know so much of Laura, that she’s become one of their group. Her other bridesmaids are even Gut’s friend’s wives and girlfriends except for you and Gina and one other girl, her coworker at this new job.

 You keep your eyes trained on him, and on Gut and Laura. They look so in love, so genuinely happy. Fuck, its beautiful. 

“So I’ll end this trainwreck on a toast. To the lovely Bride and Groom: may they make their honeymoon flight, and not lose their luggage!”

You laugh, whispering a cheers before tapping your flute on the table and finally sipping champagne yourself.  

Now it's your turn. On unsteady legs, whether from the stilettos Laura has you wearing or your emotional state, you rise from your seat and pull the grossly crumpled piece of paper from your dress pocket. 

The microphone gets passed to you and you steel yourself to do your best stage face and voice. Give them senior year at Gotham University’s production of Miss Julie.

Here goes nothing.

“Hi,” you start, clear and confident, “I’m not Gina. I’m sorry, I wish I was.”

Laura’s mom and a few of the wedding party laugh. You don't look at Adrian.

“And to make matters worse, I’m not even qualified to give this speech.”

You earn another laugh, this time from more people, and Laura snorts and slams her hand down on the table. She can correctly guess how you screamed in your airbnb trying to write this, having watched you struggle through editing stand up sets for years. She knows you probably talked to yourself in the mirror to get this right. 

“I’ve sabotaged my chance at love but these kids? They know what they’re doing.”

What the fuck does that next line say, you sweaty bitch? Why the fuck did you use gel pens for this?

“Before I moved into my studio in Condiment King’s territory—“ you pause for laughter and get some, “— I lived with Laura. And she was good, I guess.”

You stick your tongue out at her, winking. 

“She showed me how to use a hair straightener and how to shotgun a beer, but most importantly she showed me what it looks like to actively be vulnerable and put yourself on the line for love. She faced the dating world before tinder, but she also extended that vulnerability to me. With her making soup for me when I’d had a crappy day, and calling me out when I’d done something wrong to put me back on the right path, she always loved me fully and with care. Not gentleness, though. After a frat formal she threw a glass at me once.”

The room erupted in laughter and Laura looked fake-embarrassed. 

“But I have also had the privilege of knowing the groom. Dorian, or as I know him, Gut Chase, was someone I always knew would make sure I didn’t end up dead in a ditch. I was briefly a cheerleader, he was in football and a few years older, but I had someone close to him that I held dearly and he kept that in mind. I don’t think he liked me much when we were growing up, but he always made sure I had a ride home and a place to stay. I wasn’t allowed to speak to him in public but I wasn’t going to get hurt around him.” 

The room laughed again, although you only focus on the smile of one of the groomsmen who doesn't meet your gaze. You crumple the paper further because you can’t even read it at this point and you don’t remember what it said.

“The point is, I don't need to have some love story of my own to know what care and love look like when it comes to these two. I know I could have had something like this and I'm endlessly jealous of my prettier college roommate. And judging from last night and today I’ve never seen such explicit love between two people, the way they orbit each other and care for the people in their lives. They've found someone who is not only going to be there at night for them when things are fun, but they've found someone who’s going to be there in the morning. And someone they're going to be there in the morning for. Someone that's going to take care of the good and the bad and someone that they're going to show up for in that way, too. It’s fucking beautiful. I’m sorry for cursing. Let’s get hammered.”

You knock back your champagne and remind yourself to call an uber and leave your rental here. Maybe it's heavy handed that you mentioned the morning. But really, had you stayed that morning with Adrian you would have never left. You would have thrown away college had he kissed you again the morning after. People cheer and you scurry to get away from the spotlight, people start to stand from where they were and waiters start to clear plates and people begin to go to the bar. You're one of the first.

You order another glass of champagne. Had Adrian asked, you would have stayed. You know that. You've always known that, and that's exactly why you had to leave before he woke up. Fate is cruel, bringing you back here. 

“Baaabe!” Laura shouts, Gut in tow, and throws her arms around you.

You hug her back with the arm not holding your glass. 

“That was amazing,” she says, and you can only scoff, not willing to take the praise. 

“You did good, Runt,” Gut offers, patting your shoulder with a fond smile on his face. Maybe people can change. 

“Thanks guys,” you sigh, and try to gulp down this next glass as well. 

“Who were you talking about?” Laura asks. 

You choke on your sip.

“Who?”

“In the speech, you said you blew it with someone, who was it?”

Gut’s grip on your shoulder gets a little tighter. 

“Do you want a tequila shot?” you deflect, and never one to turn down a challenge, she accepts. 

You shoot Gut a thankful glance, although he actually didn't do anything. 

The next morning you wake up to your alarm with the slightest headache, two full glasses of water and a bottle of advil on your bedside table that you don't remember placing there but you also don't expect to with all the champagne and tequila going to your head.

It's still forty five minutes before you have to be at the wedding venue but you shower in under ten minutes and call an uber (thankful for your foresight to leave your car last night) the second you're dry. It's a good thing the ride is quick to the venue and they dont mind that you've thrown your bridesmaid dress and shoes and an additional backpack across the back seat. The uber driver is far too loud and friendly for this hour, your headache starting to get stronger even though you took the advil.

Laura’s already there and panicking, her lashes done and her immediately screaming at you to get into the hair chair even though it's technically not correct on her schedule. Janessa should be going first but you don't question a bride thats near tears. You hop in and close your eyes, and combing or prodding is fine with you, as long as you don't have to be standing. 

By the time your hair is done other bridesmaids trickle in, and by the time everyone is done Gina finally is able to make an appearance and you all breathe a sigh of relief at Laura’s worry finally dissolved. You all look nice. Laura looks like a princess. You're not sure if you can get through this wedding without crying like a baby now that you see her all done up. Fuck. She ushers you all out as she stays behind, a smile that finally looks genuine plastered on her face, ready for her first looks with her new husband before the rest of the world gets to see her.

“Thank you,” she whispers one last time to you, and you squeeze her hand before you leave the bridal suite to go line up in preparation for the actual wedding itself.

“— You moron!” 

You catch the end of whatever Gut is whisper-shouting at Adrian in the lobby, handsome in his suit and anxiety painted on his face and seeping from his gritted and bared teeth. 

You walk the rest of the way over after getting down the rest of the stairs, skirt of your dress fluttering as you move, and put your hand on Gut’s arm not unlike the way he did to you last night.

“Hey, whatever's going on, I got it,” you tell him, not looking Adrian’s way still in fear of your own emotional state. You aren't sure why you offered to help at all, but there's no backing out now.

“He wants to switch partners to walk with you, which is stupid and not part of the plan,” Gut explains. What the fuck. Actually what the fuck.

You shake your head, and you bury the pit in your stomach. Your emotions aren't the most important ones today and others are at stake. Fuck it, you’ll take one for the team and maybe cry in the bathroom later and blame it on the alcohol, as long as it doesn't stop you from the cotton eyed joe at the reception.

“Let us switch, your bride is upstairs waiting, we’ll handle shit down here,” you tell him, voice already exasperated, and that seems to light a fire under his ass. He moves to the staircase without another warning and salutes towards you and his little brother.

His little brother whom you still cannot look in the eye.

The rest of the bridal party starts to get themselves together at the disappearance of the groom, and you sort yourself in order. Shoes are good, hair is good, dress is good, you are good to go; and once youre over this hiccup you can party with Laura and the other bridesmaids.

“Look, I’m sorry-” Adrian starts as you link your arm in his own. He looks so fucking good in the suit, so good you need him to shut up before the last of your dignity leaves you. 

“Don't even worry about it,” you say, still not looking at him, “We’re even, remember?”

Adrian seems to deflate at your words, but if you know Adrian you know that doesn't mean he’s given up.

“I’m just saying, you didn't deserve that. I should have stayed.”

You eye up Gina in front of you, her long hair cascading down her back, happily joking with the best man. Mike’s now behind you, with Laura’s work friend. Adrian’s arm feels like a cage around you. 

“Don’t worry about it,” you mumble, trying to focus on how it feels to be hungover in stilettos. Bad, but you can use that pain as a distraction. 

“See, you say that,” you're in for an Adrian rant, and you wish you could appreciate it, “But you won't look at me, and then your speech last night had me thinking, and then you didn't let me talk to you about it after you drank a lot of tequila with my brother and even though I drove you home you wouldnt let me make sure you drank your water.”

He looks at you with expectant eyes, asking you to crack.

He says it so easily, as if his mini rant doesnt throw a spear through the heart of your barely calm and cool persona. As if your blood doesn't run cold knowing Adrian was in the airbnb again, only to care for you and look out for your safety. Adrian is a good guy, and as your pinky toe pinches in the straps of the stiletto while you rock away from him, you regret never calling most of all. Your eyes search his face for an hint of a lie, but you can't find one. So you do what you can, you look away from him.

“I drank the water,” is all you can say, the tip of the iceberg of what you really mean. His free hand squeezes your elbow, an exchange.

The opening chords of the organist strike, and you recoil at the sound, sighing deeply as everyone readies themselves. 

Gina is all you want to focus on, her two braids tied into the curls the stylist sweat over in a half up-do that would rival what the wig makers on Game of Thrones could do. 

“But anyways, I’m trying to apologize.”

You can't even find a bobby pin sticking out on her whole head.

“I don't want an apology.”

You want to run away again. You want to fuck him in the bathroom of this venue. You want to fight him to the death. You want to stain his clean shaven cheek with your lipstick. 

 “Then what do you want? You're torturing me, and I would know, I’ve been tortured. This is like emotional though, not physical.”

Ignore whatever that means. 

“I want to know what you would have done if you didn't leave.”

Fuck, why did you say that? Quick, think about escape routes, find fire exits. Run for Mount Rainier, burn down the airbnb. Goodbye!

“Well, not fucking leave,” he starts, lowering his voice to a whisper when the doors open to reveal all of the guests.

You just tilt your head, yeah, figures. 

“You like everything bagels with chive and onion cream cheese, and I would have gotten you one. They make your breath smell like shit but I would have kissed you anyway just to prove a point.”

That's basically a confession of love right there. 

You and Adrian walk down the aisle, a smile tugging at your lips, but you refuse to let it stick. The venue is beautiful, sage green and pink everywhere, a flower arch out of some perfume commercial and trendy reclaimed wood galore.

“Can we just talk?” he asks, his voice rising and you immediately try to shush him as discreetly as you can. 

“Save a dance for me at the reception,” you whisper to him, preparing yourself to take your place in the line up at the altar.

“But I wanted to talk-”

You shush him again, a little harsher than you mean to, but he seems to get the idea.

“Oh! duh— I didn't bring a date! I don’t have a dance partner to begin with,” he answers, and the smile you’ve been trying to hide breaks through. You squeeze his arm as you leave his embrace and go to stand on your side.

You look out at the crowd, a lot of them unfamiliar faces. A few friends from Laura’s major and their partners, a few cousins and kids you met when you went to her summer house, a few of Gut’s friends on the other side (save for Chris Smith, thank fucking god, you would absolutely not be surviving this if you had to hear him say anything about your tits) and Gut’s cousins from Northern California. You stop for a moment on two empty chairs, for Gut and Adrian’s parents. Suddenly you're sixteen again, watching Adrian push you away for the comfort of shooting ranges instead of talking about his own parents' deaths as a result of a car chase gone wrong. Your eye’s flicker to Adrian, his eyes already set straight on you, his smile not matching how his eyes scan you. Gut enters and practically power walks down the aisle, and you mote that theres already a noticeable amount of lipstick on the corner of his lips. 

The music changes. 

The most beautiful woman you've ever seen walks down the aisle.

You can feel Adrian’s eyes on you the entire ceremony.

Adrian doesn't leave your side the entire cocktail hour, following you around and asking about all of your drink and snack preferences. 

“I like pomegranate martinis, you know, a little Hades and Persephone thing going on?” You joke, and he orders you one from the drink station without a second glance.

“You mean like Hercules, the Disney movie?” he asks when he hands you your glass, hand steady and careful not to spill it.

You could scoff, or make a joke, or correct him, but instead you just smile and say, “Yeah, Adrian!” just to see his smile get even wider. 

“Thats a really good movie, even if its for kids,” he muses.

“So what does Adrian Chase drink?”

He pauses and thinks it over for a minute. 

“Yeungling,” he says, but he doesn't try to hide his grimace at the answer, his teeth bared and his eyes averted.

“So thats a lie,” you point out immediately over the rim of your glass. Adrian’s eyes dart over to where Laura and his brother are talking to some distant relative, definitely from Laura’s side. They're both the happiest you've ever seen them and you can’t help but to thank whatever cosmic power led them to meet. 

“Yeah, Gut says a bay breeze is chick stuff,” Adrian admits, and you figured this was the case. He was always pulling you down candy aisles or getting the really sweet stuff as far as slurpee flavors went. 

“Get the fucking bay breeze,” you tell him, and his whole face lights up. When was the last time this man got himself a girlie tropical drink?

“Okay! I mean, I've gotta hide it, but if you won’t judge me then I’ll do it,” he turns away from you, already ready to get the bartender’s attention again to order.

Theres a million things you want to say and all you can come up with is talking about his drinking habits? You only know where the guy works because you asked one of his cousins why the rehearsal dinner was at Fennell Fields and she told you he basically was allowed to book the back room for free because he worked there. You have so many things to ask him, so many things to say, and you ask him about a fucking drink. 

“You were right, this is way better. You said we could talk now?” he asks, not hiding his eagerness as he talks with the bendy straw still between his teeth. 

You exhale harshly, pushing the air through your nose, nodding. 

“Yeah,” you mumble, not wanting to correct him that the cocktail hour technically isnt the reception. Thats an easy mistake to make, its close enough.

He nods his head towards the back doors, leading out to the gardens that a few people are at, but its much less crowded than the venue proper. At least hes giving you that safety net. 

Each step feels heavier, and you once again curse the fact that Laura is a stilettos girl and made you be the same for a weekend. But the garden is beautiful, it looks like a small town in Washington’s version of the Versailles gardens, which you've never seen outside of Google images so it doesn't matter to miss out on the real thing.

He leads you to a bench, and pats it as he sits down on one end. You sweep the flow skirt under you and sit too, thankful to be off your feet after the past few hours.

"You can take those off if you want," he points his glass at your heels, "We can swap? They don't look comfy."

"We can't swap," you chuckle, but you unbuckle the heels and stretch your feet on the pavement.

“Well, we should talk,” he says, as if prompting you. The whole situation feels like there’s some kind of teleprompter you should be able to read, some magical thing to say, but there’s not. You don’t have words, just feelings. The anxiety, the joy, the ecstasy, the profound sadness and emptiness of the whole thing. There’s no way to put it into words. You don’t know how to word that you’ve forgotten him for maybe only ten of the months you’ve been away. Often wondering with other dates if Adrian was nicer than them, if he was dating. Wondering if Adrian was having a good life, if Adrian made friends. Seldom you forgot about him. And none of it you can voice without sounding worse than you already are.

“I’m sorry,” you say, looking down into your martini, the last few sips staring back at you. 

“You’ve said that already. Can I talk?” he asks. You nod, still not meeting his gaze.

“I’m sorry,” he says, “Like I said before, you didn't deserve that.”

“I kinda did,” you offer, shrugging.

“Will you stop?” he asks, his eyes widening behind his glasses. You only grimace and nod for him to continue. 

“Sorry, anyway, you didn't deserve that. I know you had to have a good reason for leaving without saying anything. And I have to admit, I have kept tabs on you. Not in a creepy way,” he pauses, “Maybe in a creepy way, but not in an illegal way. When the library put up the article about your job in Gotham I took it because that's not real stealing, everything is free in the library.”

That's not how libraries work. You remember that article, you were put on a 30 under 30 article for art and design in Gotham; you just didn't know the article made its way back to Evergreen. It's sweet that he stole the article, even though he could have just bought a copy of the magazine. 

You nod at him, needing him to continue. 

“And then when I saw you it all just kinda, came up, you know?”

You do know. Its that same vacuum that sucked air from your lungs and slowed the time down in that fucking Hooters that now feels so much more meaningful and cosmic instead of being what it is. God, what a place for a reunion. 

“Yeah, I know,” you say, your voice just above a whisper. 

“I didn’t want to be mean, but I felt like I had to, I don’t know why.”

But you know why, you know exactly why.

“No it’s fine, I would have done the same,” you say, the knuckle of your free hand brushing the soft material of his suit pants.

“Yeah. I know,” he laughs, his smile overtaking all of his features. This feels normal, finally. You’re on the same wavelength. 

“And I have to admit, I was a little jealous of Laura for taking my best friend position once I heard about you guys in college.”

You roll your eyes, letting yourself lean into him, his shoulder warm under his shirt. His arms look fucking good, with the crisp white 

“Where’d your suit jacket go?” you ask, lowering your head to rest it against him. 

“Gut’s gonna kill me,” he answers, and you can pretty much assume he’s lost it. 

Laughter escapes your lips, loud and almost cackling, and you sit back up so as to not spill your drink as the laughter keeps coming. Adrian joins in, his eyes closed behind those glasses that haven't changed in the past fifteen years, laughter boisterous and light. 

“Can we start over?” you interrupt your own laughter, setting your glass down on the ground next to the bench. 

Adrian’s laughter subsides, and he goes quiet. He thinks about it for a second. 

“Hmm, no,” he answers. Your hands fall limp in your lap, the skirt of your dress making a light swooshing noise at the contact. He could have punched you just now and it would have been less of a surprise to you. 

“Oh,” you sigh, trying and failing to play it cool. Your shoulders feel heavy. 

“I can’t start over with someone who’s seen my penis… or wore my retainer when she lost hers. Which was really gross,” he laughs, this time a subdued chuckle with a hint of nostalgia, and his eyes travel up and down your body again. You shiver under his gaze. 

“Yeah, that was nasty,” you admit, but your teeth are straight no matter what. 

You both go quiet, staring out at the treeline behind the venue. A cosmic reset. His hand scoots closer to you on the seat of the bench. The wind whistles and Party Rock Anthem is muffled and obscured by the glass doors leading back into the cocktail hour. 

“So your brother and my college roommate, huh?” you break the stillness.

“Yeah, it's uh,” he looks down at his watch, “almost the end of cocktail hour. We get to walk in together, right?”

“Yep,” you confirm, “You made sure of that with the stunt you pulled this morning.”

If he's at all embarrassed, he doesn't show it.

You stand up, rolling your eyes. 

“C’mon,” you say, holding your hand out to him. 

A cosmic restart.

“And here is your wedding party!” the DJ announces over the microphone. The first couple dances out from under the sting light arch, offbeat and singing along. Then the second. After the third it's you and Adrian, and you can feel him starting to get antsy. 

“We’ll be fine,” you reassure him, brushing your knuckles against his. 

“Don’t hate me for this,” he whisper-shouts over the music. 

You don't have time to even think about what that means because the couple in front of you dances out, but now you're anxious and rigid in your heels. You step into the spotlight, and your cue comes.

But Adrian has other plans, apparently, as he bends down to let his big strong arms (wow are you happy he grew these in your absence) circle your thighs and he hoists you over his shoulder. 

You wave awkwardly at all the guests sat for dinner, cackling and slapping Adrian’s back to the beat of the music, Adrians laugh filling your space as he awkwardly dance- walks you across the dance floor to where the other wedding party members are standing and talking, waiting for dinner and the reception to officially begin. You feel giddy, like a late night drive in the summer after Adrian got his license, like when you walked into prom holding Adrian’s hand like you’d just won the lottery. His hands are warm, incredibly so, and his muscles are taut against you.

Fuck, you’d like to feel his muscles against you in - nope, hold that thought. You want to repair whatever this is with Adrian, not be a slut at your friend’s wedding. 

When you finally reach your spot, he holds you there for a few moments, his big hands squeezing the backs of your thighs before he puts you down gently. You miss the feeling of his hands on you. 

Dinner and more speeches go off wonderfully, and you're thankful you get to stay quiet this time, few eyes on you throughout all of the formal stuff, except for Laura. Sure, her main focus are the speakers and her new husband, but you've caught more than one sneaky glance your way, and you know exactly what that means. Before they leave for their honeymoon in Cabo, she's going to corner you and ask if you and her new brother-in-law are doing anything. And knowing her, she’ll already know the answer.

Adrian nudges you when the plates are cleared by the caterers during the first dance, drawing your eyes away from the happy couple dancing to him, apprehension apparent on his face. You realize that you really haven't spoken to him since he put you down.

“Do you want to… maybe, go out there when they’re done being a lovely couple?” he asks. 

“I mean, yeah. I told you to save me a dance,” you respond, and Adrian’s shoulders visibly sag in relief like a weight has just been taken off of them. 

And you're lucky enough that your anxiousness is spared that the next two songs and the family dances go by as quickly as they can, and the dancefloor opens for everyone with Vienna by Billy Joel. You look over to Adrian, winking as you rise from your seat, your hand reaching out to lead him away from the table. 

He, to your surprise, grabs your hand firmly and lets you lead him out, and you become one of the first couples out on the dance floor. People trickle in after, but they're all peripheral noise and shapes as Adrian’s hands find purchase on your hips.

“I’m glad you're here without a date,” Adrian admits, without a hint of shame in his voice. 

“I’m glad you're here without a date too, or else this whole weekend would have been a lot more complicated than it already has been,” you offer honestly, and lean into his swaying. Your fingers play with the curls at the base of his neck absentmindedly.  

“It wasn't that complicated,” he says, “We’re just bad at feelings.”

Understatement of the century, you think, but yeah, that checks out. You'd both had hurt feelings and both been weird about it. He hums along as he pulls you closer, your chests almost touching, the heat tangible between you. It's going to be hard to keep your cool around Adrian all night without wanting to be even closer, without wanting to kiss him. Maybe you can kiss him afterward. 

“Did you become a Billy Joel fan while I was gone?” you joke, knowing that his taste was a lot more girl pop or harder rock when you last saw him.

“Billy Joel? I thought this was Bruno Mars!”

You want to ask him if he's joking but you already know the answer to that. 

“Yeah, I mean they're easy to mix up,” you say, and he nods. 

“I really missed you, Adrian,” you finally admit, “I wish I-”

“I wish that you would just let it go, troll under the bridge. Lets have fun before you have to leave again,” he interrupts.

“Well actually,” you readjust your arms, more of a hug than a dance now, “I’m here until next Monday, and I want to give you my number so we can keep in touch. Laura lives here now so…”

“So you have a reason to come out here?” he asks, hopeful. 

“You’re a reason to come out here too, if you want to be,” you assure him, and his fingers dig into your hips, the material of the skirt bunching under his palms. 

“Really? I do, I want to be-”

Fuck it, you think. Be a slut, do what you want. 

You pull Adrian into a kiss, cutting him off mid sentence. He hums, the death of a word coming to die from his lips to yours, and his form melts around yours, his grasp on you growing firmer pressing you against him 

“I knew it!” you hear Laura scream, “I fucking knew it!”

But you don't dare pull away from Adrian to laugh with the bride. He keeps swaying, off tempo to the song, but perfect for you. His lips curl up into a smile and his own laughter breaks the kiss, though. 

“Do you want to go have sex again?” he asks bluntly, slightly breathless from his own laughter. 

Unlike the other night, you're pushing him down onto the mattress tonight, Adrian eagerly shuffling further up onto the bed as you hike up your skirt to climb on top of him. You stop when you're over his hips, letting the skirt pool around him, your flimsy underwear leaving you feeling bare and hot against Adrian’s pants. 

You pull him up by his tie, your mouths meeting in the space between you for another sloppy kiss, open-mouthed and wet.  You both fall back into the sheets, kissing as your hands move to the knot of the tie. You fiddle with the knot, pulling it one way, then the other, trying to loosen it without breaking the kiss to look at it. 

Cmon, cmon.

You feel it tighten against his collar instead of loosen. You have to pull away. 

Adrian’s lips chase yours, not opening his eyes until he hears you speak.

“Get rid of the tie, I can't do it!” you demand, your hands instead starting to work at buttons lower down on his chest. He laughs, but his hands leave your body to pull the tie loose, and he does it easily. He slips the stupid thing off of his neck and flings it into the dimness of the room. You're free to unbutton all of his shirt now, pulling at where it's tucked into his pants to get it off of him. 

Fuck, he’s beautiful, you think, as you finally get to take in his bare chest. He's got muscle, he's buff, with the lightest dusting of hair between his pectorals and light freckles that you remember.

You pull him back up to sit so he can remove his shirt and you find that to be the wrong move. As he sits up, his hips shift against your core, and you struggle to bite back a needy moan. 

“Am I bothering you?” he asks.

“Nope,” you shake your head, biting down on your lip at the friction. 

“No? Then you wouldn't mind if I…” he trails off, tilting his hips up into yours again. This time, you feel him rock hard against you, and you whine desperately. Fucking bastard. Adrian chuckles, and you decide to get your revenge.

You push him back down on the mattress the moment the offending shirt is shed, latching your lips onto the expanse of his neck, kissing a wet trail in your wake as he gasps and grunts below you.

“I was so mean to you,” he gasps as you bite at his collarbone, “Do you want to punish me for that?”

Who the fuck is Adrian fucking? Is the first thought through your head. Punish him? What kind of kinky shit does he get up to?

“Don’t wanna punish you,” you dismiss, “Just wanna have you.”

“Okay,” he mumbles, his lips dragging against your hairline as he pulls you lower on top of him until your chests meet, “Still on the table, though.”

You'll keep that in mind.

“Get this dress off,” he groans, equally struggling with the zipper until he finally just rips the hook and eye at the top of it, the zip sliding down your back easily for him after that. You’re definitely going to have to get that repaired, but that’s the last thing on your mind when Adrian is pulling the material off of you half crazed, trying to have you bare against him as soon as he can. He pulls the dress up over your head, maybe not the easiest way to discard it, your arms struggling to untangle from the straps as he unwraps you. You help him push all of the bunched up material across your chest and over you, finally breathing a sigh of relief when the bodice finally comes off of you and you can both drop the dress off the edge of the bed, and his hands immediately working their way to your chest.

His thumb brushes against the faded mark on your breast that he left the other night, sending a shiver down your spine. You're sure he's about to leave even more.

“You’re so fucking hot,” he moans, squeezing at you while his eyes take you in. You’re glad now that you opted for the ‘sexier’ of the no-show underwear you picked out under the dress. 

“Thought you said women don’t like being called hot,” you joke, recalling his previous words.

“Right, pretty,” he corrects himself, and you have to shake your head. 

“I’m fucking with you,” you laugh. 

“I’m gonna fuck you,” he retorts, and quickly flips you over, pinning you underneath him. 

“So so pretty like this,” he whispers, his hands trailing down your body, stoking the fires of your arousal.

You’ll keep that in mind, too. 

You grab at the sheets, balling the cotton in your fists as Adrian’s hands finally make their way between your thighs. He presses his fingers to your clothed cunt, and you both sigh at the contact. 

“Please touch me,” you beg, all the boldness gone from your tone now that he’s got you like this. 

“I’ll do you one better!” he says, and moves himself down the bed, removing his hand only so he can remove your panties. 

“Can I taste you?” he asks, repositioning you for his own easy access. You nod, tilting your hips up towards him. He puts your legs on his shoulders, and slowly creeps in. 

His hot breath fans out over your cunt, his glasses fogging as he looks up at you, the way his cheeks and nose scrunch lets you know that he’s grinning like a maniac. 

Without warning, he darts his tongue out, licking between your folds and only stopping when the tip of his tongue meets your clit. 

You whine, needy and unexpected, and try to quiet yourself again. You feel him as he exhales through his nose, maybe laughing at your desperation, and moves his tongue; small, deliberate licks against your clit that have you hitching your breath with each one.

“Please,” you whisper, squeezing your eyes shut and gripping the sheets so tight you could rip them. Adrian dives in like a man starved, his tongue dipping into you and the tip of his nose bumping against your clit. He licks into you like your cunt is what keeps him alive, like the water of life. You moan, languid and loud; his big hands flatten out, one against your stomach and the other along the underside of your breast.

Where the fuck did Adrian Chase learn this? Maybe you don't want to know, maybe you just want to enjoy the skills for what they are. His lips move in tandem with his tongue, not hiding the slurping sounds his mouth makes; fuck, he worships you.

Your orgasm sneaks up on you, at first a slow bubble, and then a sudden boil. Your moans turn almost to screams as you shake under him, your thighs tightening around his head.

Adrian’s having none of that, though. He removes his hands from you, moving them to your thighs to hold them in place. Without the leverage of your legs, your back arches almost painfully, leaning into your orgasm as it shakes your entire system, Adrian just happily working you through it, gradually slowing down his mouths movements as your breathing becomes more and more regulated.

“Good?” he asks, when he finally moves his mouth away from you. Everything from his nose to his chin is soaked in you. 

“Y-yeah,” you pant, still catching yourself.

“Good, then you’re ready for me,” he says, smirking as he untangles from your thighs and moves back up. He kisses your cheek, decidedly not letting you taste yourself at this moment. Somehow, in your haze, you hadn't noticed that he’d gotten rid of his pants. 

You already feel him, heavy and hard, resting against your entrance, and immediately you need more no matter how sensitive you might be.

“I’ve been ready,” you tell him, and he chuckles.

“Not for this,” and he pushes in to the hilt. He gives you no mercy, like he said he wouldn't. He gives you no time to adjust to his size. You yelp, both in surprise and in pleasure, and he picks up his pace as if your noise was permission.

“Fuck, prettiest girl I’ve ever known, all laid out for me, all for me,” he babbles, his lips just barely brushing yours as he stays close. 

“All for you,” your voice comes out in a moan, all control of your volume and tone lost; the fire already building in you again.

“Gonna give you everything, all for you,” he says, like a promise, his own voice strained. 

He doesn't hold back in his pace, pushing in all the way each time, deep and hard, a slamming pace. He's not gentle, but the way that he looks at you is full of all of the affection and sweetness he holds for you. This is your best friend. This is… whatever he is beyond that. 

“Adrian, kiss me,” you beg, wanting to seal yourself to him, to connect. 

“But I might taste-”

“I don’t care.”

That's all he has to hear, and once the kisses start, they don't stop.  He moves a little awkwardly at first, his pace faltering slightly to adjust for this connection, but he finds his rhythm again. He thrusts sharply, your hips moving to meet him as best you can, your bodies moving in sync with your pleasure. He quickens his pace, his kisses getting harsher, more bruising. Adrian is a kisser, you realize. He likes it like this. 

“I’m gonna—,” he gasps after his harshest thrust yet, and you grab his hips, holding him close. 

“Go ahead,” you say, breathless yourself and ready to lose your own composure. 

He pumps into you harder, his hips snapping against you sure to bruise. Adrian’s hand leaves your hip to move his thumb to your clit, rubbing quick circles that choke out sobs from your throat. It's hard to hold on, both physically to his hips but also to your composure. Every thought of him, him, him, and the fire inside of you that fights to escape. 

“Adrian, please,” you beg, voice watery and desperate, and he obeys, speeding up his movements until you scream, and shake, and lose everything. Your mind whites-out. No thoughts but the specific shade of green of his eyes. 

And when you come back you feel full, sticky and hot. Adrian holds you tightly, still inside you, snuggling you close and cradling your body to him. He's shushing you and pressing kisses into your skin, muttering sweet nothings to soothe you. Fuck, thats never happened before. 

“That was good?” you ask, breathless laughter in your tone. 

“Now I know you have to be joking with me,” he says, pulling back slightly, “That was mind-blowing! Literally.”

He pulls away more, and you reach out to reel him back into your embrace. Adrian reassures you he’ll be right back. Even after all of this, the tiniest doubt creeps in, and when he backs out of the room, boxers in hand, you pull the sheets up over you tightly. 

He comes back into the room with two glasses of water in only his boxers, a sight you want to get used to. He places the glasses down on the nightstand and throws the covers over the both of you, enveloping you in their warmth and his. Adrian runs like a furnace.

“Can you stay this time?” Your voice is small, vulnerable. Adrian’s warm hand cups your cheek, and he shimmies closer to you under the covers. 

“How much does a flight to Gotham cost?” he asks, deadly serious. 

You balk at his question.

“Adrian, you can't uproot your life for me,” you insist, feeling bad suddenly about the way you continue to cling to him, hands pressed into his back to hold him to you. 

“Psh, who said that? I figure maybe Evergreen can survive without me for a week or so. I wanna take you on a real date,” he snuggles closer, curling the blankets further over you. Your own little world, a little bubble just for the two of you. 

You’ll remind him that Gotham is currently surviving a week without you, too, in the morning. 

“I’d like that,” you say, sleep sinking into the edges of your voice. 

“Get some rest,” he says, sounding just as sleepy, his head feeling heavier against you, “I’ll be here in the morning.”

He is. 

[ebaybears]

Rainbow Furby Deepdive

Now that I've decided my website is a sea slug fansite (long story) I don't have anywhere to put my rainbow furby research. I considered putting it in a youtube video, but decided to post it to tumblr instead.

Anyway, here it is! The forbidden furby lore.

On the 14th of June 2016 supersonicmario0770 made a post on the adoptafurby forums. The thread was titled "Rainbow Furby?" and included a link to an archived ebay listing.

"I have never seen one of these before or where it came from. I can't find it when I look it up, no sign of it anywhere online but this ebay listing. It's pink with rainbow ears, hair, and chest."

At first most forum members thought it was a customized furby with dyed fur, although some thought it could be an unknown prototype. While the ebay listing is unarchived, we know roughly what it said.

On the 15th aibo7m3 posted this:

"I would err on the side of caution and and say that it's probably a custom too, but the seller's story is that this furby was an employee gift given to some of the members at tiger electronics (including her husband)."

Two weeks later on July 6th furbyandchips made a forum post, providing pictures of their own rainbow furby.

"My friend bought me the other rainbow furby the seller on ebay was selling. Identical to this one. I do not believe it to be fake or custom made. I have inspected it closely and the bottom of the box was open, so the inside cardboard can be removed, but the furby is still attached to the cardboard and didn't look tampered with. All tags are present and in mint condition. Everything is as it should be and looks like it was made in a factory and not customized by someone. The seller told my friend the same story which I believe to be true going by the fact the other furby she bought with it was only furby number 4 of that release, which makes me think it could of been someone who worked for tiger to have such a early one. This furby is in a regular box but if you look at some of the other special editions they too were in regular boxes."

Three years later, on the 19th of January 2019 furbyandchips provided an update on their website heyfurby.com.

"Hello Furby Fans! To start off our new blog, I thought I would write about a very interesting Furby in our collection. I do not know her Furby name as I have never switched her on, she is still attached to the cardboard base from the factory. We decided to name her May May, which means Love ;-)

A good friend found May May on Ebay America and I have never seen another furby like her. A while ago I posted about May May on a furby forum to try and find out some information about her, but no one there had ever seen or heard of this furby. I'm not sure which generation she is, if she is a prototype, limited edition or something very special. She has all tags present and looks to be an Official Furby Release.

Looking at the photo you will see she has rainbow eyelashes and a purple face plate, unlike any other furby. She also has rainbow pattern ears, mane and belly.

Her colours are amazing and I wonder if there are any more around like her. We will always treasure May May and hope to eventually find out more information about her. Stay tuned!"

furbyandchips quickly provided an update on the 21st. In this post, furbyandchips described searching the wayback machine for furby.com articles, finding what they were looking for on a page titled 'news updates'.

From the 9th of November 1999 until the 1st of August 2000 a competition to design a furby took place on the back of Post brand cereals. Children 17 and under were asked to color in their own furby design, and send their entry in the mail by the 1st of August 2000. Twelve designs at random would then be selected and posted on furby.com where a winner could be voted by the public.

The winner was Brittany from Missouri, who won a trip to the furby design studio in Illinois, as well as recieving their own furby. However, furbyandchips was still left with some unanswered questions.

"So it turns out that this is in fact an official Furby-Tiger Release! (some doubted this on AdoptaFurby Forum). I wonder if 'Brittany from Missouri' still has her Rainbow Furby? Also were any of the other 12 entries created?

As far as I know, there are only two Rainbow Furby's in existence. The one that I own, and the other one the original seller (maybe) still has? After some more detective work, I found out the other rainbow Furby had a highest bid of $525.00 before the seller chose to end the auction early! I can only guess they had a change of heart and wanted to keep it."

Eight months later, on the 11th of august 2019 an update was posted on the private facebook group Furby Collectors.

"Hi guys! I'm brand new to this group, and while I'm not a “collector” per-se, i am very proud of this furry rainbow dude right here. He's one of three in existence, made in 2000 when i was just 10 years old. i just so happened to be the lucky winner of a coloring “design your own Furby” contest hosted by Post cereals back in the day. i was flown to Rhode Island with my family and allowed to tour the Hasbro factory, meeting the artists, getting sneak peaks into prototype toys to come, and got to meet the CEO himself! He presented to me, in a formal greeting ceremony, with three of the Furbies I'd designed as a little girl. One to play with (kept outside of the box), one to keep sealed, and one they put into their archives. i felt ike a Charlie and the Chocolate Factory! Truly a dream come true for a kid. Sadly, when i was 16 years old, 13 years ago now, my boxed Furby was stolen from me and sold by my late older brother who had been battling an incredibly difficult and heartbreaking addiction. I've come to terms with it over the years, but have always wondered what happened to the rainbow siblings of this furry cutie. I'd seen images posted online of an Ebay listing with one of the sibling Furbies before but have not discovered much more about their fates. thought I'd reach out here and give a bit of backdrop to this weird story in hopes i may learn something! Here I've included a goofy photo of my multicolored friend from recently and a clipping of the arcticle written from when i was an excited 10 year old girl!"

This still leaves some questions. If the other furby furbyandchips's friend bought was number four, then why would the facebook poster believe there to be only three in existance, why would furbyandchip's believe only two to exist, and why would the original ebay seller say their husband recieved two as an employee gift?

We can most likely rule out the brother making both ebay listings, since he only had access to one furby. Could there be more rainbow furbies that we don't know of?

If you have any more information on this furby, please get in touch! I tracked down the news article the original creator was mentioned in, but I needed a newspaper.com subscription to view it so I wasn't able to get further information from that. I also wasn't able to check the facebook group for further updates as I don't use facebook. If anyone has pictures of the back of the rainbow furby and can share them, that would be appreciated!

Here's some more images:

[precious-little-scoundrel]

Dear John || Don’t be Sore

Or alternate title: “You’ve got mail, you mopey sunnvavitch”

Warnings: 18+ sensuality, suggestive language in letters, reference to fellas “giving each other a hand” and angst.

Requested: yes! -taking Bucky to the pinup wall to give him pep talks/Bucky learning Julie Jean wears his coat

“Who’s yours from Buck?”

Crank’s voice interrupted Gale’s attempt to ingrain into his mind the sweetly feminine scent lingering on the letter. “Marge.” he mumbled blissfully into the crinkled paper.

“Maaaarge.” Bucky echoed drolly, past being shy over the rabid sort of pain he felt each time the mail came and -sorry Egan, no dice.

It was bad not getting any letters, yet he wasn’t alone in his plight this mail run. But Bucky was pretty sure he had those others beat for just how few he had *ever* gotten.

No holdup, no pesky censor, just a failure to set it up right for times like these. And funny enough, Bucky now missed the exercise of writing, brief as his attempt had been. He probably should’ve made a journal instead of pouring every hapless thought onto paper and sending it to a Cotton Candy goddess in Neverland, but he’d enjoyed it. Now though, now it might as well have been a journal, all that writing he did, the lovely recipient of those letters was now as silent as leather and pages.

And now in camp, letters from Marge made Buck’s face light up with adoration and hope that years of Bucky’s own devotion hadn't once sparked in those eyes or twitched upon those lips -unless in fond aggravation, cautionary amusement.

Marge.

Bucky had liked her better when he didn’t need all the love she took, back before Gale hadn’t dwindled down to Egan’s single reason to live.

Gale had Marge for that.

Buck didn’t have his ear pinned to the radio for a single warble of a famous voice, Buck didn’t have to pace a circle asking what kinda deluded looney he was to think she was actually seeding her broadcasts with hints to him that she remembered him still. Acorn. The monotony of this place made you doubt you knew your mother’s name, much less things like Julie Jean’s turn of phrase when asking after how he liked his drink, shaken or stirred?

It had been easier back when there had been broadcasts. Back before the damned radio got found. Busted, and Bucky seethed over it for more reasons than one, but he had a suspicion his bunk mates were sadder his tranquilizing weekly ritual of listening to her was no longer available.

They’d taken extreme measures as a result, hauling him by the collar to the pinup wall and making him recite a crass liturgy of devotion to her and renewal of promise that worked for a few weeks.

“Why’re you down Bucky?” Brady had nearly begged him when this tradition became monotonous in turn like everything else around here, “It’s not like she stopped talking to you, just the fuckin’ krouts took her away for a bit.”

“Yeah, yeah, he’s right, Major.” Demarco would pile on, “She still cares about you! Just because you can’t hear it don’t mean she’s not still saying it.”

The truth of it was he was still down. Whether it was the knock to the head or this place, his competitive spirit had turned sour, and as his own happiness plummeted, his ability to be glad of others’ began to crumble. And that felt disorienting all on its own, like he had some ugly and bitter little fella takin’ up residence where his heart once gloated and loved freely.

He knew it had something to do with it all when winter’s first trying chills made Buck shiver in his bunk, teeth chattering so near to John’s head he didn’t even think before he took what he himself wanted most. He had climbed in and held him, stiff and bewildered and a little begrudging as he was, Buck was dear and warm and would die for John, that much he knew. And John loved him.

“You’d make a great dame.” he told his poor friend one night like an idiot, drunk off of months of not being kicked out of his bunk. Maybe Acorn had been right in one of her last letters, one she sent in reply to the candid photographs of base that Bucky had developed and sent to her: she’d said he had a type. Tracing Gale’s cherub lips in a room full of snoring men in the dead of night…maybe he did.

“Can I help?” Buck had offered instead of kicking him out right then and there: because Buck was good and Buck was observant, and what Buck had allowed that night settled something in John just enough that the next time he was taken to the Spank Bank Wall, The Hall of Hopes and Dreams -he could muster up some good humor, enough to soothe Brady’s concern in turn.

“Thinkin’ of makin’ a crystal radio.” his little Kriegi Marconi had dared next week, and John was kept occupied again for the next weeks rounding up the supplies to make it happen, an amusing pantomime of his childhood games of playing a bootlegger

No one even knew if it would work. And in the meantime it was a horrible suspense not knowing what the hell was going on “out there” all while having to hide the evidence of their collection in here. And then in the middle of it all, once more-

“Who’s yours from?”

“Marge.”

“Maaaarge.” Bucky predictably parroted, Crank and Benny got letters this time too, and that was good for them.

Buck’s face while perusing his letter however, was not the typical luminous glow of an ardent young cherub in love, and that had the odd effect of worrying Bucky. “What’s wrong?”

“She’s, she’s bein-“ he trailed off, flipping the letter back and forth and scrutinizing it intensely, “I think she’s hinting somethin’. Where’s that envelope? Hell Benny, don’t put the plate on it!”

“Sorry major.”

Buck took the worn envelope and shook it, prying the seams apart until like an old dream replayed, a little square and shiny card floated to the ground. John kept himself seated, not even ready to dare hope that had anything to do with him, much as he was shaken by the similarity to Julie Jean’s first correspondence and attached photographic gift, tucked in an envelope seam. The way Buck had shaken it just so and how it had fluttered to the ground and how Buck’s thumb had looked pressed against Lana’s black and white nipples.

“John Egan, you’ve got mail.” Buck bellowed with something like triumph in his voice, face lit up like a firework stand ablaze, “Get over here, you mopey sonuvabitch.”

The chair he was sat in clattered backwards into some poor fucker as Egan dove up and towards Buck’s bunk, drawn to the waved little photograph in his hand. Buck was a merciful man and handed it over without a game of tug. Bucky deeply wished the room wasn’t full of curious friends but then again, looking into this flat, shiny, black and white, shrunken little world -it took him miles and miles away. Away to a front yard in some small town where it looked chilly but festive, with candy cane decor lining the sidewalk up to a plain brick house and two girls in the yard, mid blurry laugh, clinging to each other like they’d fall over and tweak their ankles in the leaves if they let go.

Marge and Julie.

“How ‘bout that.” Gale’s voice was warm and soft and Bucky didn't have an answer for him, he ground out a rough cough that was intended to be an agreement before it got snarled in the lump in his throat.

Julie was wearing his coat. Even as the sight got a little blurry with smarting eyes and a rush of warmth to his chilled face, Bucky could see the patchwork leather swallowing her little frame.

She’d told him in a letter once she’d barely made it to 5”1. He told her that made him over a foot taller. She said she’d happily climb him. He said he’d happily carry her around impaled on his pole.

She was wearing his jacket.

She was drowning in the fleece and she was laughing and she was holding Marge and there were candy canes and Christmas had been celebrated as it should and it was all quiet and peaceful back home.

“She’s good.” He managed to croak. And he didn’t mean her pose or her tits or her savvy ability to come out on top and cheer them all up, he meant she was a good person.

“Marge says she sought her out.” Gale explained, letter consulted once more to get his story straight, “Another War Bond tour, showed up at the factory. Made a beeline for Marge. Apparently she’d looked her up and stipulated the stop in her contract. She stayed for dinner -guess that’s when they took the photo.”

“How ‘bout that.” John managed to repeat happily.

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[spicyspiders]

not a chance to slow down

Peter Quill x male reader smut

1.8k words

Tags: unprotected sex and age difference

A/N: I’ve been obsessed with Star-Lord since I played the Guardians of the Galaxy game around the beginning of the year. The one written about here though is from the MCU and was pretty much inspired by some gifs I saw and couldn’t stop thinking about lol. I’ll probably end up writing something about Adam Warlock too because how could I not when Will Poulter looks as good as he does.

The first time you spoke to Peter, it was in passing. You were tired and cranky, having driven many miles to get home during your summer break from school. You were on your last box when he came out of his house.

“Nice shirt,” you said casually when he walked by you.

“Thanks!” His eyes darted down to the box you held, “you need some help with that?”

“This is the last one, thankfully,” you answered and used one hand to wipe the sweat that had gathered on your brow.

“I wish I knew you needed help, I definitely would’ve been out here to help you,” the man responded.

You couldn’t help but eye him over. With how broad his shoulders looked, you’re sure he would’ve been able to help without getting as sweaty as you did.

“I appreciate that, but it’s okay,” you said, sending him a smile, “that mail does look pretty heavy after all.”

“It’s nothing I can’t handle,” the man responded, and raised the few pieces of mail like a dumbbell, making his bicep flex.

It was probably from the time you spent in your car making you go a little crazy, but the man’s joke made you laugh harder than you expected. The other man’s face went red as you laughed, but after a second, he almost looked smug, like he was happy his joke had such a reaction.

“So,” the man says when your laughter has died down, “you here for the summer?”

“Yeah. After a long semester, I’m finally home,” you said, sending a grateful smile toward your house.

“Well, I’m happy to be the first person to welcome you back,” he says, sending you a soft smile.

You didn’t want to tell the man that he wasn’t the first person you saw since you’ve been home, instead, a smile matching the one the man wore landed on your lips. “Who do I have to thank for such a warm welcome?”

“Peter Quill, at your service,” he said, adding a bow.

You couldn’t help but laugh again at the display. You introduced yourself around the fit of giggles as Peter went on to laugh at himself.

“Let me know if you need any help unpacking,” Peter called from his door after you walked up your respective driveways. “Hopefully I’ll be seeing a lot more of you,” Peter said as he stood in the open doorway.

“I hope so too,” you responded, sending one last smile his way before you closed the door. The smile on your face lasted until you got to your bedroom, and fell once you were reminded of all of the boxes you needed to unpack.

-

Though you were tempted to walk out of your house and head next door to see if Peter would come to help you unpack your boxes, you didn’t end up seeing him until the next day.

“Are you on mail duty too?” Peter asked as he leaned against his mailbox.

“It’s one of my most important responsibilities. Nice robe, by the way,” it was pretty boring as far as robes go with its plain white color, but you weren’t about to tell Peter that.

“You like it?” Peter twists himself to the left and right to make sure you have a full look at the garment, “I just bought it.”

“Am I the first to see you in it?” You ask in surprise.

“You are. I saved it just for you.”

You let out a chuckle, though you weren’t sure if Peter was being serious, “what’s it gonna be tomorrow?”

Peter crosses his arms over his chest, looking away with an intense look of thought on his face, “I could break out my birthday suit, but that’s reserved for my bedroom and the bathroom.”

You look at him with your brows raised, a slow smile spreading across your face, “I think I would get pretty lonely if you got arrested for doing that, so I’d think of something else to wear.”

“Or you could come up to my room and I could just show you, that way I don’t have to think of what I should wear to impress you,” Peter said with a smirk.

“I know thinking can be hard at your age, so that sounds like a good idea.”

Peter’s smirk morphed into a look of offense, “how old do you think I am?”

“You were wearing a Metallica shirt yesterday.”

“So? They’re a good band, that doesn’t make me old,” Peter responded.

“How old are you?”

Peter looked away, and glanced at the mail you held in your hand before looking back at you, “40,” he answered before looking away again.

“You’re not that old at least,” you responded, smiling when Peter shook his head.

You couldn’t ignore the nervous feeling that started to sink in when you stepped up to the man, “I have to put this inside then I’ll be over, okay?”

Peter nodded, sending you a small smile, “better hurry, you don’t want me getting any older, do you?”

-

You meant it when you said Peter wasn’t that old. It even made more things about him make sense, like his taste in shirts, and the way his eyes crinkled yesterday when he laughed at his joke. What didn’t make sense, or really, what you didn’t expect, was the way that he fucked you.

It almost reminded you of the guy you went home with last semester. Like the guy you went home with, Peter fucked you fast and hard. You honestly expected it to be over just as quickly as that last time, but when Peter rolled over onto his back and sat you down on his cock, you let out a punched out noise of surprise.

“Tired?” You asked.

Peter grinned, “I’m not as young as I used to be,” he said, running his hands up and down your thighs. When he pulled his hands away, he crossed them behind his head, looking relaxed.

You watched in confusion as Peter lay there. When his eyes fell shut, you clenched down on his cock, hoping to get the man back into action, but he stayed still. When you clenched back down on his throbbing cock, that’s when Peter’s eyes opened again to watch you.

“That all you’re going to do?” Is that enough to get you off?” He asked with a smirk.

“Fuck you,” you snipped back. You knew from the first time that you brought yourself up with your thighs that they would quickly start to ache, but it only spurred you on. You fell back down after bringing yourself up with a moan, feeling as if the cock inside you went deeper than the poison that you were just in.

“There you go, baby,” Peter said, his smirk now a toothy smile, “I knew you had it in you,” he said, still just fucking laying there.

In retaliation for his stillness, you reached down to twist at one of his nipples with your fingers, but it only made Peter let out a groan filled with pleasure. You took to settling your hands on his broad chest, finding purchase to help fuck yourself down on his cock.

You didn’t expect after only having met yesterday that you would be bouncing up and down on his cock the next day. You could see when you met him yesterday how broad his shoulders and chest were, but now, seeing it uncovered from the shirt he wore yesterday, and the bathrobe he wore today, you could see the way his muscles were covered with a soft layer of fat.

Your head fell back as you let out moans as the cock inside you hit your prostate as you filled yourself to the brim over and over again.

When the inevitable burn in your thighs began to set in, you paused to lean down and press your lips to Peter’s. You moaned into his mouth, feeling his cock throb against your prostate, even as you sat still.

Peter answered with a noise of his own and moved his hands back down to your hips. He traced his fingers over the sensitive skin of your hips bones, making you shudder, and once the kiss was over, his hands moved to the globes of your ass.

Peter gripped the skin tightly and used the harsh grip to lift you before he loosened his grip so you could fall back down.

You felt your body go boneless in his arms from the effort that you had put in, but with the way that Peter lifted you so he could fuck his cock in and out of your hole, you were happy to let go under the effort he gave.

You panted into his sweaty neck, letting out little grunts as you tried to still fuck yourself back down on his cock. You could feel yourself approaching the edge, too focused on that to respond when Peter turned his neck to connect your lips.

In reprisal, Peter bit harshly into your bottom lip before he soothed the mark over with his tongue. The headboard slammed into the wall as Peter thrust over and over into your tight, warm hole. The sound was accompanied by the slick sound of sweaty skin on skin.

When you leaned up, Peter followed so he could stay close and connect your lips. You tried your best to keep up, but ended up with your forehead pressed to his as you panted into his mouth once the kisses were over.

With one hand still braced on his chest, you used the other to wrap your fingers around your cock. After a few tugs of your cock to the rhythm of Peter’s thrusts, your back arched and your head fell back as your orgasm washed over you.

You opened your eyes during the aftershocks as Peter chased you into orgasm. He held your asscheeks in a bruising grip as he thrust inside your hole. You almost wanted to open your mouth and let out a whimper of pain at the grip he held you in, but he soon relaxed as he fell over the edge.

Peter gave one final thrust when he let go of your ass, instead moving his hands to your back so he could pull you close. He groaned over and over again, each noise ending with a breathy moan as he came deep inside you.

You buried a hand in his sweaty hair as he ducked his head down into the crook of your neck. Peter held you close even after his cock had gone soft, his only movement being a slight shift for his cock to slip free.

You felt warm and sticky in his arms. You knew Peter had a mess that coated his chest from where your cock had shot ropes of cum, and you knew that you were equally messy where Peter’s cock had been, but you didn’t want to move.

Peter fell back down to the bed with a groan before pulling your body down on top of his. Though he wrapped you tightly in his arms, you still couldn’t contain your shiver as everything on and leaking out of you began to cool.

Peter gave a low chuckle, “did I not warm you up enough?”

You pressed your smile into the sweaty crook of his neck, “I might need your bathrobe.”

[winchester-girl67]

Wild Hearts (Part 4) - Postcards From Dean

Summary: Postcards from Dean to Y/N; sent over the years they were apart. 

Masterlist

Pairing: AU!Dean x reader 

Square: Postcards @j3bingo

Word Count: 743 

Warnings: underage, age gap (reader is 16-22, Dean is 20-26), language, slow burn, long distance relationship of sorts, pining, maybe a little angst, time jumps, fluff 

A/N: This part was written for @j3bingo go as a collection of AU postcards from Dean to Y/N.

_____ 

A few of your favourite postcards from Dean - from the six years you were apart. 

___________________________________

Hey Y/N, 

What do you write on a postcard? 

Dean

P.S. I picked up a stack of these at a rest stop on the way to Sioux Falls and I thought you'd like some old school snail-mail. I'm aware that your parents and the mailman will probably read this too, so... I'm sorry I got your daughter into trouble and now she has- what, ten hours of community service left? But, she's kind of a badass and saved my life so don't go too hard on her. 

P.P.S. And to the mailman: Not cool, dude. 

___________________________________

Dear Y/N, 

Sam told me to start these with 'Dear' instead of 'Hey', I kind of like the way it sounds so I let him be right for once. Bobby and Jody are pretty cool, they won't even let me pay rent so we can save more money. We'll have a place of our own in no time now. 

xo Dean 

P.S. I hope the 'x' is okay, if not I blame Sam. If so, it was all my idea. You can't tell but I just winked at you. 

P.P.S. It's my birthday and Jody made me a cherry pie! It was so good, I had every intention of saving you a piece but now I'll just have to learn how to make one for you instead. Can't wait for your phone call tonight so I can tell you all about it. 

___________________________________

Dear Y/N, 

It took a little longer than I thought but we just moved into our own apartment! It's closer to Sam's college but we can still visit Bobby and Jody with a short car ride. 

xo Dean 

P.S. Think you'll come visit me on your gap year? 

___________________________________

Dear Y/N, 

It snowed today! And I'm making pasta tonight. You can drool over it via video chat later. I wish we were in the same time zone so you could ring in the new year with me too. 

I’m missing you a lot lately,  xo Dean 

P.S. I'm sending you a big fat kiss. You can put it where you want it. X 

P.P.S. To the mailman: Get your mind out of the gutter. She's a lady! 

___________________________________

Dear Y/N, 

I'm seriously craving Donna's mocha ice cream right now. I think it would go great with Jody’s cherry pie recipe. Don't knock it till you try it! 

xo Dean

P.S. Sam hasn't stopped playing that playlist you made him for studying. I swear you have the worst taste in music. I'm going to make you a playlist tonight. 

___________________________________

Dear Y/N, 

I think I like the mountains on this postcard best, we should take a roadtrip there together, maybe next Valentine’s day? 

x Dean 

P.S. I don't like airplanes. 

P.P.S. But I'm going to take you to all the places on these postcards some day. 

P.P.P.S. I hope you're still pinning these postcards to your wall so you can hold them over my head some day. 

___________________________________

Dear Y/N, 

I'm sorry. 

xx Dean 

P.S. If I could have one superpower it would be the ability to control the weather. 

P.P.S. Getting snowed in would be a lot more fun WITH you. 

P.P.P.S. Maybe my superpower should’ve been teleportation! Damn it, is it too late to change my answer? 

___________________________________

Dear Y/N, 

I just dropped Sam off for his first year of law school. I feel old. Luckily, he got another scholarship though, so I don't have to worry about paying his tuition. Kid's a major nerd. 

x Dean 

P.S. I'm actually in California! The salt air here makes me think of home, of you. You feel so far away right now. I'm not even looking at the same ocean. That sucks. 

P.P.S. We haven't talked in a while and I know that's mostly my fault, but I wanted to give you a heads up. I'm coming home... Soon. 

___________________________________

Dear Y/N, 

Did you notice there's no stamp? 

Always yours, 

xoxo Dean 

P.S. I was going to tell you to meet me where I first kissed you but that's a hell of a walk. So meet me under our streetlamp. The one where you put ice cream on my nose the first night we met. 

P.P.S. I hope you come, I can't wait to see you. But I understand and no hard feelings if you don't. 

_________________________

Part 5

_________________________ Dean: @akshi8278 @laycblack @thoughts-and-funnies @mrsjenniferwinchester @crustycheeks @kazsrm67 @sexyvixen7 @lyarr24 @suckitands33  @eliwinchester99 @yvonneeeee @igotmajordaddyissues @djs8891 @leigh70 @globetrotter28 @backseat-of-deans-67chevy

SPN: @hobby27

Wild Hearts: @justrealizedimmascifygurl @evieluvsjamie @kimberkingrivers @vicmc624 @ladysparkles78