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#jfk x reader
writethebodyelectric · 3 months
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Prima Nocta
A John F. Kennedy Fanfiction
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Summary: When the daughter of a Rat Pack singer wants some romantic experience, she turns to President John F. Kennedy, a friend of her father’s, for help.
Warnings: 18+, smut (occasional dubious consent), angst, infidelity, antiquated ideas of sex/marriage, swearing, 22-year age gap
Word Count: 3k
AO3 Link
You’d been sitting on the edge of the bed for exactly 12 minutes and 47 seconds, your eyes twitching ceaselessly between the little white clock on the nightstand and the round-top bedroom door, when finally, the doorknob started to turn. The brass glinted in the silver-blue moonlight beaming through the sliding glass wall behind you. You felt your tongue dry out and stiffen in your mouth like a towel in the sun.
John Kennedy—or “Jack,” as he’d once told you to call him—stepped into the room, materializing out of the pitch-blackness of the hallway. “Hello there,” he said. With that charming New England accent, he pronounced “there” like “they-ah,” and beneath your heart’s frantic sparking and sputtering, a little spot deep in your gut groaned with affection.
“Hello,” you said in return. You were locked practically motionless in the dark searchlights of his sleepy gaze as he guided the door shut behind him.
His shoes clicked on the wooden floor as he began striding slowly towards you. You cleared your throat and pushed yourself to speak again: “Thank you for meeting me.”
“Why, it’s my pleasure,” he said as his shadowy shoulders blocked out more and more of the floral wallpaper around you. The sharp, forest-y scent of his cologne made your nostrils feel cool and crisp. Your hands tightened their grip on each other where they lay folded in your lap.
Jack’s mouth twisted into a gentle smirk as he swayed to a stop right in front of you and brought one of his big hands to cup the underside of your chin, his long callused fingers curling up around your head. Instantly, your spine twinged with the urge to pull backward and away, but you clenched your stomach and held yourself still. You wanted this, you reminded yourself as you gazed up at Jack through mascara-caked eyelashes. You can’t be chicken now.
“I have to admit,” Jack said then, with a huffing chuckle, “that I’m frankly a little surprised at your timing.” He sounded staticky and distant over the dizzying clang of your heart against your ribs. “I can’t help but feel guilty, uh—” (his eyes flicked briefly to the side, seemingly searching for the right word) “—spoiling you for your husband,” he continued. “Poor kid’s had the patience of a saint.”
You felt your throat press against his warm palm as you swallowed. He surely thought you were some sort of lunatic for waiting until the week before your wedding to finally dial that number his secret service agent had slipped through your fingers at Frank Sinatra’s birthday party, which was almost half a year ago now. But there was, actually, a perfectly reasonable explanation. At least, you thought so.
You could’ve explained to Jack how your future husband Jimmy, the world-famous heartthrob singer you’d been practically betrothed to since we were children and who you were marrying in just 7 days (the tabloids had been very generous in making sure every single person in America was aware of this fact—including the president, apparently), was secretly homosexual and had no intention of ever being romantic with you. The feeling was perfectly mutual, of course; you both saw each other as more of siblings than anything else. But, naturally, that still did nothing whatsoever to satisfy your ever-burning desire to find someone who could help you simulate the fairytale wedding night you’d always hopelessly dreamt about—one where, in a pink haze of passion, you’d finally hand over your virginity and roll around in the sheets till the sun came up with someone who was masculine and dashing and strong.
But, obviously, you could never betray Jimmy by telling anyone any of that. However, you also weren’t content to just waste away at home while Jimmy got to enjoy his revolving door of classified lovers, so you would just have to settle for Jack assuming you were some kind of newly-emerging sex-crazed adulteress—which he of all people would have no right to judge you for, anyway.
You felt the skin of your throat stretching as Jack tilted your head up and rotated your face slowly to the left, then to the right. You followed him with your eyes, watching him study your neck and collarbones like they were an expensive piece of machinery he was looking to purchase. You did your best to set your trembling shoulders back, wondering if this was typical behavior of a man before he made love.
“Speaking of Jimmy, I’ve been wondering. Is he the reason you called?” Jack asked while he conducted his examination, as if he was simply discussing the weather. “You think he’s liable to disappoint you on your first time? Or you just can’t possibly wait another seven days for him?” He phrased them more like teasing accusations than actual questions.
“Oh, n-no,” you said. The firmness of his grip on your jaw caused your words to come out clipped. “I just. . . .” You could feel your eyes bulging as you tried to scrap together some semblance of a reasonable explanation as to why you were here. You’d been hoping he wouldn’t bother with this line of questioning. “Well, Jimmy’s just so young, you know,” you sputtered, “and maybe—maybe I want to know what it’s like being with . . . an older man.”
Jack blew air out of his nose in a half-formed laugh. “An older man, huh?” He brought your head back to center and gave your cheeks an affectionate squeeze between his thumb and forefinger. “You’re cute, you know that, sweetheart? I’ve wanted to be alone with you since the night we first met.”
Your heart spasmed at that, and you could feel your mouth twisting as you tried not to break out in a giddy grin. Gosh, he could be so sweet.
The night you both met was two whole years ago now. Jack had been just a senator then, and you’d been just 19 when he, his wife, and several of their friends came backstage after one of your father’s glitzy Rat Pack shows in Las Vegas. You still remembered how, while your father was introducing you, Jack's placid blue eyes had slithered up and down your dress. Inexplicably, blood had gushed pleasurably between your legs while you watched him eye you like this, smoke from his cigar furling around his lip.
Jack's hand dropped from your chin then and moved to start unbuckling his pants. Your head suddenly felt too light, like your brain wasn’t there anymore, and the skin around your jaw prickled with the absence of his fingers. This was it. You were moments away from having the full experience of being a married woman and—if the rumors you’d heard about Jack Kennedy’s sexual aptitude were true—all of the mind-melting pleasures that came with it. The anxiety you’d been feeling ever since you decided to call that secret number a little over a week ago was about to be entirely worth it.
Jack let his belt slap to the floor, and his hands slipped under your armpits to pop you up onto your feet. You sucked in your lips to stifle what would’ve probably been a pathetic, whimpering gasp. His face was mere inches from yours now, and as he looked down at you, you were almost overcome by a strange, aching pull to stand up on the very tips of your toes so you could squish your nose against his. The leader of the free world was just a big dreamboat softie, really, and he could be anywhere on Earth with anyone he wanted, but he chose you.
You didn’t really have time to consider these unusual whims of yours, however, because then Jack bent his head and fastened his mouth to your neck. You could do nothing but stand there dumbly as he covered your skin with sloppy kisses, his buttery brown hair tickling your shoulder. The gentle clicking of saliva between his lips buzzed in your ears.
All of a sudden, as if you’d blacked out a few seconds ago and were now coming to again, you noticed your dress had been unzipped and was in a puddle around your kitten heels. Goosebumps sizzled up your bare arms and legs, and your shoulders folded in on themselves as Jack's hands appeared on both sides of your vision, one tossing your bra to the floor and the other moving to clasp both your wrists tightly behind your back.
He yanked your wrists downward with surprising gruffness, forcing you to arch your back and thrust your bare chest out toward him. A stuttery inhale hissed through your teeth, and you squeezed your legs together, blushing furiously as your nipples prickled and hardened under his gaze. You knew this would be part of it. You knew he would have to see you naked.
“God damn,” he said, his voice dark and rumbling, before bowing his head to take one of your nipples in his mouth like a hungry dog. A low, needy whimper trembled in your throat and as he moved from one nipple to the other, viciously biting and sucking. The stiff tent that had sprung up in the groin area of his slacks collided with your clit, wracking you with a full-body shiver. For a quick moment, you were awash with a lush, golden feeling of pride. You were making the president hard.
He hooked a finger in the waistband of your cotton panties and leaned back from devouring your chest as he pulled them down, the tip of his nose brushing on your forehead as you both watched—to your piercing horror—an elastic string of wetness stretch between your vagina and the spot on the crotch of your panties where it had attached itself.
You noticed, too, how slick and glossy the insides of your thighs had become. “Oh, no.”
“Now, now.” Jack spoke in your ear with a brisk tone like he was impatiently reprimanding a child. “There’s no shame in getting a little excited.” He brushed a finger over the smooth slit of your labia, and you practically squealed, “Jack!”
Your little cry seemed to ignite something in him. Suddenly, you were whirled around to face the twinkling Chesapeake Bay shoreline and its tumbling black water and navy blue sand. And then there was a wide hand between your shoulder blades. “Bend over for me, doll,” Jack instructed you pointlessly as he went ahead and shoved your upper body into the mattress.
With the heel of his palm, he slid you forward so you had to clamber up onto the bedspread on your knees. The electric crackle of your nipples against the rough old fabric caused a loud “ah!” to spill from your mouth. You craned your neck as far over your shoulder as it would go to watch Jack’s eyes pick their way down your body just like they had the night you met. But now, all splayed out for him like this, you suddenly felt sick and dirty enough to throw up. This sort of position seemed more suited to a common whore than a bride. Your face burned like someone was shining a heat lamp on you. And yet, your clitoris pulsed with an almost painful voracity, causing your hips to twitch slightly with each pounding beat.
Outside in the living room, you heard the muffled laughter of the two secret service men who, when you’d first arrived at this rented beach house about 20 minutes ago, had told you President Kennedy would arrive shortly, and then casually led you to the bedroom like you were going to a meeting in the White House. You clenched your teeth against the toe-curling humiliation of it and forced yourself to shuck those guys from your mind. You were going to pretend that you were completely alone with Jack, your handsome powerful husband, and that this creaky Cape-Cod-style house was your lovely newlywed home.
The quick screak of Jack's zipper snatched you out of your thoughts. In the open fly of his pants, you caught a brief, heart-softening glimpse of his blue-striped underwear—And then, suddenly, there was a real-life penis whacking against the small of your back.
“Oh my!” you shrieked, and Jack's Adam’s apple bounced with a small laugh. The anatomical diagrams you’d studied with your childhood tutor had utterly failed to capture how big and messy-looking penises really were. The veiny skin on Jack’s was wrinkly and loose like an elephant, and the whole thing looked almost thicker than your forearm.
He began pumping his hand up and down the length of his long erection in a lazy, thoughtless motion, swiping his thumb across the shiny little hole every time he reached the top.
“Do you—do you think it’ll fit in me?” you asked. It was hard enough sometimes just trying to get a little tampon to settle in right. Glancing up at the ceiling, you prayed that, by some magical trick of biology, you would be able to accommodate Jack's size.
“Oh, sure,” Jack assured you as he palmed your buttcheeks and spread them apart, allowing himself to drag the tip of his penis down across your puckering butthole and line it up with your vagina as he spoke. “A young cunt like yours might require a little, uh, tough love, but it’ll fit me by the time I’m done.”
You weren’t entirely sure what he meant by “tough love,” but it didn’t matter because suddenly he was easing his big round tip inside you with a low, sonorous groan. You grabbed fistfuls of the bedsheets. Already, your “cunt” felt stretched beyond what was healthy.
“Fucking shit.” His voice sounded from far back in his throat. “You’re tiny.” And then, without further ado, he forced himself inside you, crashing his hips against yours with an echoing smack.
Your vagina ripped open. You screamed at the blistering sensation. Your stomach felt like someone had removed your intestines and replaced them with a big metal pole. The area around your belly button was bloated out and pulled taut.
A single tear was knocked out of your eye and down the side of your nose as he pulled all the way out and ruthlessly slammed back in again. He began moving you back and forth at a rapid rhythm, jerking you around like a rag doll. Your head was ringing as you buried your face in the bed, bracing yourself to take this for as long as Jack wanted you to. You wondered if it was typical for a man to be so harsh with his partner.
“Fuck.” The words were tumbling out of his mouth. “Fuck. You feel damn good, you know that?” His hand came down with a hard slap on your buttcheek and, instinctively, you bucked your hips away from him.
With his hands on your waist, Jack jolted you back into place in front of him. He smacked your butt again, like he was punishing you for fleeing, and you let out a panting whine as the sting shuddered through you.
“I know it . . . hurts, sweetheart,” he said between guttural grunts as he continued to pound into you, “but this is . . . what it takes . . . to break a little body like yours in. This’ll be . . . much easier next time.” He flashed a quick, cheeky grin.
Then he scooped one of his hands around your throat and whipped you upwards so your back thunked against his chest. He mumbled into your ear, “Now let me take another look at these pretty tits, huh?” He cupped your breasts in his hands, squeezing them together then pulling them apart, and your head fell back onto his shoulder with a tortured moan.
“God, look at you,” he murmured, pinching your nipples. “Maybe I should just take you home with me, huh? How does that sound?” He was a mumbling mess; you wondered if he even knew what he was saying. “I could ruin your little cunt so Jimmy won’t even want it anymore, and I’ll hide you away in my house up in New York. Keep you all to myself.”
As he spoke, one of his hands slid down your stomach and began to rub slow circles on your clit. This was met by another watery yell from you, and you felt Jack's teeth on your cheek as he chuckled. “Ooh, now that feels good, doesn’t it?” he cooed. “Fuck, I love it when my girls scream. Let me hear you again.” He swatted your clit with his hand and, like clockwork, you cried out for him.
He sped up the pad of his finger on your clit, rewarding you for your obedience. “Just like that,” he said. “Let those fuckers out there in the parlor here you.” He slapped you between the legs again, and that’s when, seemingly without warning, the brutal throbbing you’d been feeling tumbled over into an explosion, like a hot water balloon bursting in your pelvis. You wailed and rolled forward, your bones gelatinous.
Jack caught you by the shoulders before you could flop onto the bed and lowered you the rest of the way down. “There we go,” he praised as your orgasm rocked through you. “That-a-girl.”
You offered him a weak smile and then realized he couldn’t even see it because your face was in the blanket.
As soon as your climax fizzled away, Jack grabbed ahold of your knees and turned you over onto your back. Then he pulled out of you for the very last time with a lewd squelching noise. Your entire lower body felt shriveled and deflated as you watched him give his erection a few self-indulgent strokes.
He rolled his head back with a loud “mmm,” and several long strings of white, mucus-y liquid began shooting out of the tip.
“Oh my gosh,” you gasped to the ceiling. Air was getting caught in the emotional stickiness of your throat as you tried to catch your breath. Jack’s semen was splattering across your stomach. “Oh my gosh.”
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reareaotaku · 2 months
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I Am Not A Clone [Series]
Where the Fuck am I
Summary: You accidentally get enrolled into Clone High, even though you are not a clone. Instead of kicking you out, Principal Scudworth decided to keep you to see how the clones react to a real human- Not a clone. Pairings: Various x Reader
You groaned, rubbing your head. You didn't remember what happened or where you were. This- Caused a panic to stir in you. You quickly sat up and looked around what looked like an office. Well- more like a science lab with all the flasks and mysterious liquids.
You frown, rubbing your head, before sitting up. You yawn, walking towards the door, but you are grabbed and pushed back into the chair. You looked around confused only to see a crazy-looking man in a lab coat. He had yellow rubber clothes, which were clasped together. A banner of his name 'Scudworth' was engraved into it. This was the moment you were going to die.
There's a moment of silence before he speaks. "You may be wondering why you're here."
'No shit,' You thought, trying hard to contain your eye roll.
"It seems the administration made a mistake when enrolling you."
"So, you can unenroll me, right?" You asked hopefully, your eyes nearly shining with glee and hope.
The man smirks, as if you had just told him a funny joke. "Unenroll you? Now why would I do that? This is fate."
"Fate?"
"Yes!" he stands up, his chair spinning as he walks over to your side, "The first Natural-born human amongst clones of historical figures of the world. This is what was meant to happen."
"What was?"
He turns away from you and looks over at his many degrees on the wall. You hear him chuckle, causing you to worry. "Why you coming here. You were meant to be here. To see how the clones would react with you. It is the perfect science experiment. It will determine how they will react to the..." He turns back to you, "Natural World."
"And I have to be an unwilling participant?"
"Well, it's not like you have a choice. Just imagine the possibilities."
You frowned, "Possibilities?"
"Yes," He turns back to you, and pats your shoulder. "A new year has begun and things will be... incredible."
'Oh my god, this man has lost his mind,' You thought, shaking your head. "You can't do this to me- I have rights-"
"Do you? Besides, this is a regular school, so there is no reason for you to go to another school. It will be in your best interest to stay in this school."
'Is he threatening me?'
A smile over takes his face and he claps his hands, "Alright. Go, go. You will definitely be popular."
---
You sat in a room full of strangers- Well, they weren't really strangers. You recognized a few of them as historical figures such as Joan of Arc, Abraham Lincoln, and Ghandi?
"The first day of school is always awkward. I just want you to know I can relate. You see, I'm not just your kindly history teacher. I'm also the first mostly-human clone."
You have to hold in a gag when seeing the creature. God, this had to be some type of crime against humanity.
"Spliced in a little sheep DNA." He pats his arm with his cane. Which is fine with me."
"You can't even tell, Mr. Sheepman."
'Ah, yes you can,' You thought to yourself, but you'd never say that aloud.
"Thank you! Before you leave, we have an announcement from Miss of Arc."
"Now, I know I don't have to tell you how committed I am to community service."
You frowned, before tilting your head. 'What the fuck is she talking about? She's nothing like THE Joan of Arc.'
"That's why I'm starting a teen crisis hotline and I'm looking for volunteers."
'Nevermind. Maybe she is.' You quickly raise your hand, but immediately put it down when seeing the look of disappointment cross her face. 'Bitch.' Though you were the only person left in the classroom, so she had to go with you.
"I've never seen you before, are you new?"
"Something like that." You pick up your bag, before putting out your hand, "Y/n L/n."
She looks at you confused, "That doesn't sound like any historical figure I know."
"Yeah, because I'm not."
"What?"
"I'm not a clone."
You can see the look of confusion appear on her face as her eyebrows cross, "What? But this is Clone High? Why would you not be a clone in clone high?"
"That's a good question. So, when do you need my help?"
---
 You walk through the halls, gawking at the many historical figures, impressed by the many you could see. Though, you should have paid attention to where you were walking, because you ran into a taller man.
The man turns around, but makes no move to help you. Instead, he gestures at you as a whole, "Aye- You're new?"
You turn towards the voice. Your eyes nearly popped out of your skull when you saw him, "Oh god, you're John F Kennedy!"
He laughs, shaking his head, "Yes, Yes I am. And who are you?"
"Y/n."
He hums, "I don't remember that name-"
"It's complicated."
He laughs, "Haha! Complicated. I like you. I'm having a party Friday, you should come."
"Party? Like highschool party?"
"Aye, you are so funny!" He clasp a hand on your shoulder before letting out a hardy laugh. He wipes a tear from his eye and takes off.
"Oh, wow, your first party. Maybe this year will be different."
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3d-wifey · 2 months
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jfks-phat-cheeks · 2 years
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Van Gogh, JFK and Joan w/ a ftm reader please?
Why yes ofc! apologies if this is a little short, I'm getting back into this writing format lmao (a post for my fellow transmascs out there)
Van Gogh With A FtM Reader
They would be very supportive of you, whether you told him at the beginning of your relationship or even later in. There would be a lot of mutual understanding and appreciation of each other (I stand by my firm beliefs in genderfluid van gogh <3)
I definitely think that they would do all they could to make you as comfortable as possible, a lot of encouragement and support. Whatever you need he would be there for.
If you go the through of going on hormones he would be right there by your side! if its shots and you don't feel comfortable doing them yourself, they will try and help you. And if you end up doing any surgeries, he will be by your side the whole-time post-op. "Oh no don't do that I'll grab it for you!" is something you would be hearing a lot
Dude is so protective of your honor and image, would probably bite someone's fingers off if they said anything wrong about you or misgendered you ngl.
Jfk With A FtM Reader
Oh, this poor man, he would try his hardest, but you would have to explain it to him a couple of times before he actually gets it. Once he does, he would need your guidance as you how to be there for you and help.
Would definitely be like "uh the boy ones :D?" and then look to you to see if he got it right when asked his pronouns. Which is adorable in hindsight but makes you shake your head in the moment.
He lends you his old clothes. All the time. So many clothes. This is good if you like his style but if not good luck, you can use some of it to sleep in though so it's a win win no matter what Ig. Does just throw hands to defend you. It's just what he does, it's almost like a love language for him. Oh, someone said something bad about my boyfriend? I am going to break their jaw :). You just got to expect it. Eventually people won't even try to say nasty shit because they know that they'll be hunted down for it.
Joan With A FtM Reader
Joan would be your number 1 supporter no matter what. They would be by your side from the very beginning and is there for whatever you need. Want to go shopping? She might not like too, but for you she'll do it. Need help changing your name and pronouns in the system? She will be fighting right by your side.
They love you very much and I feel like if you have top surgery, she will trace your scars when they are healed. It would just become a habit for her when you two are laying down together.
On days where you are feeling particularly dysphoric, she would sit you down on the couch and you would watch your favorite movies and eat your favorite snacks.
Will beat the shit out of people for you like Jfk, she would hold no remorse. The only difference here is that she would wait for you to tell her it's okay to do so.
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floralcyanide · 5 months
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⊱ 𝑆𝑡𝑎𝑦 𝐺𝑜𝑙𝑑 ― 𝐶𝑜𝑟𝑖𝑜𝑙𝑎𝑛𝑢𝑠 𝑆𝑛𝑜𝑤 ⊰
[ ᴀ ʜᴜɴɢᴇʀ ɢᴀᴍᴇs ᴀʟᴛᴇʀɴᴀᴛɪᴠᴇ ᴜɴɪᴠᴇʀsᴇ ғᴀɴғɪᴄᴛɪᴏɴ ]
1960s ᴜs ᴘʀᴇsɪᴅᴇɴᴛᴀʟ ᴄᴀɴᴅɪᴅᴀᴛᴇ!ᴄᴏʀɪᴏʟᴀɴᴜs sɴᴏᴡ x ғᴇᴍ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ
𝑃𝑟𝑜𝑙𝑜𝑔𝑢𝑒.
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౨ৎ 18+ ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀs ᴏɴʟʏ !
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⊹ summary: You are studying the one and only US President John F. Kennedy for your dual-title doctorate at Harvard University in 1963. Upon growing closer to the president, you happen to meet one of his Harvard friends, Coriolanus Snow, who is campaigning for the 1964 Election. You're both brought closer as time passes, and your life changes forever. As the 1964 Election continues and political tensions escalate, you come together. With the help of you, the Kennedys, and his charming wit and cleverness, Coriolanus Snow ends up with all he's ever wanted. However, the ever-growing Women's Revolution puts everything and everyone at risk. What Coriolanus doesn't know is that politics is all a game-
But there are worse games to play.
⊹ pairing: young!coriolanus snow / fem!reader ⊹ warnings: none. ⊹ word count: 269 (not including quote.) ⊹ author’s note: eeeee here's the prologue! I'm so excited to share this idea with you all. it was just a random fic idea I had and I didn't think it would snowball in my imagination the way it did, yet here we are lol. please be sure to check out the soundtrack and if you want to be tagged with every chapter, please fill out the form. I have both the soundtrack and taglist form below for you to click. much love!! ♡
౨ৎ divider credit: @cafekitsune
౨ৎ sᴇʀɪᴇs ᴛᴀɢʟɪsᴛ | sᴇʀɪᴇs sᴏᴜɴᴅᴛʀᴀᴄᴋ | sᴇʀɪᴇs ᴍᴀsᴛᴇʀʟɪsᴛ
౨ৎ this fic has been cross posted to ao3.
ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ᴄᴏᴘʏ, ʀᴇᴘʀᴏᴅᴜᴄᴇ, ᴏʀ ᴄʟᴀɪᴍ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋ ᴀs ʏᴏᴜʀs ᴏɴ ᴛᴜᴍʙʟʀ, ᴀᴏ3, ᴡᴀᴛᴛᴘᴀᴅ, ᴏʀ ᴀɴʏ ᴡᴇʙsɪᴛᴇ. ʏᴏᴜ ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ᴘᴇʀᴍɪssɪᴏɴ ᴛᴏ ᴜsᴇ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋs ɪɴ ᴀɪ ɢᴇɴᴇʀᴀᴛᴏʀs ᴏʀ ᴀɴʏᴛʜɪɴɢ ᴛᴏ ᴅᴏ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴀʀᴛɪғɪᴄɪᴀʟ ɪɴᴛᴇʟʟɪɢᴇɴᴄᴇ. ʏᴏᴜ ᴍᴀʏ ɴᴏᴛ ᴜsᴇ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋs ᴛᴏ sᴇʟʟ ғᴏʀ ᴀs ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴏᴡɴ ᴄʀᴇᴀᴛɪᴏɴ
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❝And I remember when I met him, it was so clear that he was the only one for me. We both knew it, right away. And as the years went on, things got more difficult – we were faced with more challenges. I begged him to stay. Try to remember what we had at the beginning. He was charismatic, magnetic, electric, and everybody knew it. When he walked in, every woman's head turned, everyone stood up to talk to him. He was like this hybrid, this mix of a man who couldn't contain himself. I always got the sense that he became torn between being a good person and missing out on all of the opportunities that life could offer a man as magnificent as him. And in that way, I understood him, and I loved him. I loved him, I loved him, I loved him. And I still love him. I love him.❞ — Lana Del Rey, Spoken Monologue, National Anthem
“Go on, sweetheart,” Coriolanus mumbles, his lips tickling the shell of your ear, “Wave to the people. They love it, they love you.”
You stare at Coriolanus for a moment in absolute awe as he basks in the glow of attention from the crowd. At this moment, he’s electric and powerful. You couldn’t be more proud of him for it. The two of you are in a brightly colored motorcade, slowly cruising through downtown Boston in celebration. Your husband effortlessly smiles in glory, his eyes twinkling in unbridled emotion- a rare sight to see from him. Coriolanus has his moments, but not like this. His blue eyes are usually cold, distant, and emotionless unless looking directly at you. Despite the lack of obvious light, you can still see it. It’s one thing Coriolanus admires about you; that you can see past his demeanor. The last time you remember him looking so full of pride, though, was the day you married one another.
It’s hard to wrap your head around the fact that he succeeded at this- and you succeeded at this, too. Perhaps even harder to grasp that millions of people around the world now know your name and care about what you have to say. As Coriolanus said himself, the people love you. Sure, having the people on your side just as they are his matters to you. But at the end of the day, the only thing that matters for certain is if he truly loves you like he loves power. Sometimes you aren’t so sure. Sometimes, he looks at you, and you can’t see a thing.
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౨ৎ taglist:
@nilletellsstories @noyatv @moonlightstuffs @slytherinholland @dominqueeekk @allcheesemelts @coconut-dreamz @rosewine-5 @hsfallingsky @imasimptoowth @tatumrileyslover @murdocksdaughter @fauxraven @throughgoeshxmilton @thesullengrrrl @fanfictionismyromanempire @americanprometheuss @prettycove
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kisielzmozgu · 8 months
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jeff :3
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melsimps · 11 months
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Hee hoo-! Made some memes for @feyhunter78 's fic, "Pink Pastels".
It's a really good fic and I enjoy it so much.
Are these memes dumb and poorly made?
...perhaps...
But hey, they made me smile.
Also it's like 8 am rn and I haven't been up that long.
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...haha, kill meeeee.
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gorillaxyz · 5 days
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was nixon never in clone high.. thats funny
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moonxsolitaire · 2 years
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Hey!
How would y’all feel about a Hank Anderson (DBH) / Gender Neutral Reader chapter amongst all the other hyperfixation chapters- ALSO, I’ve been thinking of adding some (revamped) chapters from other fanfics I’ve written so they don’t get forgotten about it that would be a shame they went to waste.
So, feel free to check out my wattpad (beware for some ancient cringiness) and look through my fanfics and comment here which ones you’d like to have a chapter in the one shots fic!
Lastly, here’s a wee list of some of the one shots I’ve been thinking of doing! (ya might notice a pattern of MILFS)
(old) Carol Denning X Reader - maybe a Henny Russell X Reader instead
(Old) Carol Denning X Reader (A sorta AU where Y/N managed to get CO Hopper to free Carol instead of Chapman before she could get killed)
Perhaps a chapter with Rosamund Pike X Reader or Amy Dunne x Reader
(2018) Laurie Strode x Reader, I might do it so that it’s based on my fanfic about Laurie on wattpad where Michael is real but the movies had still been made and Y/N finds JLC to get help to dEfEaT Michael when they actually fall for each other- if I don’t do that, it’ll be a simple Laurie x reader
I might might do a Markus X Simon (DBH) chapter
I’ll probably do a JFK one that’ll most likely have a similar plot line that my ao3 fic does.
Regina George x Reader
(And I’ll keep updating with whatever hyperfixation I get at the time)
So, that’s it for now! Thanks for reading <3
Rhye
Now allow me to quickly make this clear, I do not in any way stand for the crimes Carol committed, it frankly disgusts me. I simply find her attractive so if you don’t like that please go elsewhere or you can leave recommendations on my page about ways I can change things up- it would be really appreciated.
Please be kind on my page, any hate will be deleted!
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katiexpunk · 5 months
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Sex On Fire, Part 1 | Pairing Firefighter!Joel Miller X Fem!Reader
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Series Summary: You're a country girl in the big city, thanks to your generous aunt. You expected to have adventures your first year in New York, but what you didn't expect was for your hot, firefighter neighbor, Joel, to be part of them. Part 1 Summary: You move to New York, after a little coaxing from your aunt. You meet your new neighbor, Joel, and quickly learn he's a Captain with the NYFD and good with his hands. Rating: 18+ Minors DNI Word Count: ~6.7K Warnings: Sexual tension, sexual tension, sexual tension. This one is dripping in it. No age gap specified. No explicit smut (yet, there's uh...gonna be a lot in part 2), but a nice lead up to it in the end that will probably blue ball you. Groping. Alcohol. Hardcore flirting. Fleetwood Mac, The Rolling Stones, and Kings of Leon song references. Uniform kink. Joel has a hard on for seeing reader in his shirt. Reader's mom has passed. Texas/small town vibes. New York City. There are no specific descriptors for reader, except that she has hair. Ya'll, these two are just down for each other so fucking bad it's not even funny. Authors Note: This one is for my darling moot @darkheartgatita. Pia, thanks for putting Firefighter!Joel into my brain. I hope you enjoy. As always, thank you to my Slutty, Smutty, Sister @sydneyinacoma who inspires me every day and shares her filthy thoughts on the reg. And to everyone who gives my little blog love -- I fucking love you all so much. Part 2, Fall and Winter, will drop next Saturday.
Masterlist | Read on AO3 | Notifications
Part 2 | Part 3 Preview | Part 3
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S P R I N G  Spring blooms, bringing with it a new beginning for you. Of all the places you’d thought you would be, New York was not one of them. 
Life back in Texas wasn't terrible, a bit dull sometimes, but not awful. 
Yet, in the mundane moments, your mind often drifted to daydreams – visions of swapping your Levi's for a sleek black dress and trading quiet farmland for the lively hum of city bars. You’d think of Samantha from Sex and the City sitting on your porch at sunset, drinking Bud Light, wishing your fairy godmother would appear and magically turn it into a dry Martini.
That was until three weeks ago, when your rich aunt, visiting from New York, decided to sprinkle a bit of magic into your life. 
“I’m gonna move to Italy for a while,” she casually said over family dinner as if she was just announcing that she was going to the store for milk. You should have been surprised, but she’s always been the kind to never stick around for too long. Single and child-free, she’s spent her adult life dancing to her free-spirited rhythm, bouncing around from one place to the next. Not because she had to, but because she could. You, on the other hand, were the total opposite.  After your mom passed away, leaving the cocoon of the familiar felt like too much. Despite your aunt's protests and encouragement to just go, you resisted, not wanting to leave behind your dad and the comfortable life you'd known. But if there's one thing you've learned about your aunt, it's that she's relentless – and yanking you out of your comfort zone was precisely what she wanted, and she had just the plan to do it. 
She handed you the keys to her Lower East Side apartment, turning your once silly little daydreams into a reality. “Sweetie, you need this – you’re meant for so much more, your dad will be fine. Please go,” she encouraged. 
Despite your initial reluctance, you caved, and before you knew it, you were on a plane bound for JFK. 
++++ You feel like a small fish in a big pond as you navigate the city. Trying to figure out the subway turns into a whole saga of you getting lost more than once. You eventually find the right borough, but not without a fair share of unhelpful people brushing you off along the way. Yep, you're definitely not in Texas anymore. 
While walking through the city, it hits you that a new pair of shoes is in order; something made clear to you by the little blister on the back of your heel that’s screaming at you. Despite the annoyance, you’re enjoying the walk to the apartment, your new home. The city's buzzing with life, and even the faint smell of urine in the air doesn't bother you. It's a wild, trippy feeling to be in the city, to feel like the main character of your own story. 
You grab your phone, itching to double-check the building your aunt texted and ensure you have the right address. Remembering her advice about the unassuming exterior but spectacular view, you get ready for the big reveal. The key affixed to a keychain with a little apple on it meets the lock, and as you turn it, the door swings open, revealing a spacious wooden staircase.
As you step inside, you notice there's a bit of mail scattered on the slightly dusty floor. You collect the envelopes and magazines with your aunt's name on them and neatly stack the other pieces for Joel Miller into a pile on the bottom step.
After climbing the – Jesus, really fucking narrow – stairs, you're faced with doors opposite each other. While a brief doubt nudges you to recheck the apartment number, your gut tells you that the door with the welcome mat showing lemons and a pot of fake flowers is the one — a stark difference from its neighbor with a simple grey mat and no decor. Trusting your instincts, you decide that the lively entrance is the one. 
As you step inside, you're greeted by a cozy space that, despite its age, radiates warmth and character. The walls are adorned with paintings that seem to tell stories of bygone eras, while rays of sunlight filter through the window, revealing glimpses of the bustling cityscape below. 
Though small, the apartment is meticulously decorated, each corner telling a tale of adventures and cultural escapades. Remnants of your aunt’s travels, collected with care, add a touch of global flair to the modest space. Posters from Broadway plays hang proudly on the walls, as do family pictures. It’s lived-in; the kind of lived-in that feels comfy and embraces you like a warm hug. 
You look at the frames on the wall and pause when you see one of your favorites – a photo of you as a little girl, smushed between your mom and your aunt, a cake three sizes bigger than your tiny head lit up with birthday candles in front of you. You can't help but trace the edges of the frame with your fingertips, connecting with the warmth radiating from your mother's beaming smile. Miss you, mom escapes your lips as your eyes linger on the photograph for a heartbeat longer before the rest of the room demands your attention.
In the compact kitchen, a handwritten note from your aunt beckons, strategically placed beside a bottle of wine on top of a stack of takeout menus. Her words resonate with warmth and encouragement. "Welcome to your new home! I am so proud of you for taking me up on my offer. Disregard the bedroom chaos—I started painting the walls but didn't quite finish before taking off. Feel free to pick up where I left off if the mood strikes. And if you ever need a hand with anything, Joel Miller across the way is a nice guy. I've already told him that you’ll be staying for a while, or who knows, maybe forever. Love you!" The paper carries the unmistakable fragrance of her perfume, and a smile graces your face after you finish reading it. 
Setting the heartfelt note aside, your attention shifts to the menu for Sang Garden, a vibrant pink post-it exclaiming, "Right down the street! Super yummy!" Hunger gnaws at your stomach; the last meal was a distant memory from this morning, and you're ravenous. Without hesitation, you dial the number on the menu, your choice a steadfast favorite: orange chicken. “10 minutes,” the older lady on the phone tells you, not bothering to say goodbye before hanging up. Huh, efficient, you think. 
As the aroma of anticipation fills the air, you finish unpacking your suitcase and weave through your new space until your food is ready. Only having to go down a flight of stairs and less than a block down the street to pick it up is a new feeling for you. If you wanted something like this at home you’d have to drive at least 20 minutes to pick it up. 
You finish the entirety of the meal within minutes curled up on the couch, Sex and the City on the T.V.. Your aunt was right, it’s good. Probably the best orange chicken you’ve ever had in your entire life; just the right amount of zest and sweetness. You can already tell you’ll be a regular. Everyone always talks about the pizza in New York, but nobody bothered to tell you about the Chinese. You can tell you’ll probably have a lot of moments like that, discovering new things for yourself instead of hearing about it from magazines or seeing the photos on Instagram. 
With your belly now full of the sticky goodness, you settle into bed for the night. You stare at the ceiling, paying no mind to the smile that’s been plastered on your face for the past three hours. You feel giddy, like a little girl seeing the stars for the first time. You’re doing it. You’re really doing it. 
The city is still thrumming to life, but the distant sound of sirens and honks eventually turns to white noise as you drift off to sleep. 
++++
The next morning, you rise with purpose; new life breathed into you. You brew a cup of coffee and decide to savor it on the fire escape, enjoying the not-yet-thick spring, and still slightly chilly, spring air. As the city stirs awake beneath you, you’re determined to craft an agenda for the day. With another few days to spare before your new job starts, your thoughts drift to the bedroom, where the abandoned paint cans await. 
It's been a while since you've had the chance to dive into something genuinely productive, or creative for that matter, and you decide that this is the perfect opportunity. Your aunt chose a deep, rich shade of green, one that harmonizes seamlessly with the space; not too dark, but not puke or pea green, either. It’s pretty. She always has had good taste. 
And while you like the color, it’s not particularly one you’d like to see splattered all over your clothing, having only brought what you could fit into a small suitcase. Your aunt must have something, you think. The woman has more clothes than a department store and there is no way she could have brought them all to Italy, although you don’t put it past her to try. 
You make your way to the guest bedroom and rummage through the dresser located there. The top drawer is full of nothing but scrapbooks, the middle drawer has only sweaters, but luck strikes in the bottom drawer, where you locate a handful of old shirts. 
You pull out a dark blue, oversized “New York Fire Department” cotton t-shirt; the front of it has an emblem, and the back says “Rescue 1 FDNY” in faded blocky white letters, obviously well-loved. This will do, you tell yourself, quickly exchanging your tiny crop top for the large shirt. It hangs over your body, the bottom nearly hitting your knees. Why your aunt has such a large shirt in her collection you’ll never know, but you wager it’s probably from one of her many “friends” over the years.  
++++
The sounds of Fleetwood Mac's "Rumours" fill the room, you stand in the center of the bedroom, paintbrush in hand, ready to transform the space. The nostalgic chords of Stevie Nicks' voice in Dreams infuse the air, blending with the scent of fresh paint as you dip the brush into the can, and begin. “Like a heartbeat drives you mad,” you sing, slightly off-key, but no one is around to listen and you don’t mind. “Thunder only happens when it’s rainingggggg,” you belt, using the paintbrush as a microphone. 
While most of the paint makes it on the walls, you have to admit that painting isn’t your strong suit and a fair amount of it has splashed back onto your face, shirt, and even your hair. You’re having fun, more fun than you’ve had in a while, even if you make a mess while doing it. Not like you’re gonna see anyone today anyway.
“Players only love you when they’re plaaaaaying…” doing your best Stevie twirl. 
More and more green covers the walls, but as you’re about to get started on the final white wall, you’re interrupted by a loud steady stream of knocks at your door. 
You hit pause on the music, and make your way to the door, unsure of who would possibly be knocking. You peer through the peephole to take a look, but you can only see the back of a man in a simple white shirt, his back turned to face away from the door. You undo the chain lock and swing the door open. 
As the man pivots to meet your gaze, his presence sweeps over you, an unexpected force that leaves you momentarily disarmed. He’s handsome in a way that unmoors you; a mass of a man with broad shoulders, sun-kissed skin, and sculpted biceps that redefine your sense of composure. Whoa.
“Hi,” you murmur, your eyes conveying a blend of softness and curiosity, "Can I help you?"
The man looks at you, and you feel yourself heat under the attention of his gaze. His eyes gently caress your frame; lingering a little too long on the emblem sewn into the fabric, just above your breast. 
"Uh," he clears his throat, his hand rising to his face, fingers subtly grazing the beard hair on his cheek, as if grappling for words. "Yeah, well – no, uh," he stumbles, the words caught in a momentary struggle. "Hi, ‘m Joel Miller, I live across the way," he greets, angling his body to signal to the door directly across the foyer. “Oh right, my aunt told me about you you,” you say, introducing yourself, voice smooth like honey. “She mentioned you were a nice guy and to call you if I ever needed anything,” you say, taking up space in front of him by leaning into the door.  “Just stopping by to say hi, then? Or do you need a cup of sugar or something like that?” you ask with a playful tone. 
Suddenly, the last thing he wants to do is admit that there's something you could help him with—like turning down your music. He likes Fleetwood Mac as much as the next guy, but the last three days on shift have left him craving peace, not a soundtrack reverberating through the thin walls.
Plus, he wasn’t expecting you to be so damn attractive. 
And he definitely wasn’t expecting to be wearing his shirt when you answered the door. 
“Ha, no, don’t need any sugar,” he chuckles, “just thought I’d make myself known.” He pauses, eyes locked onto yours. You notice the subtle flecks of amber in his deep brown eyes and the furrow of his brow. He’s painfully handsome. Just as you’re about to say something, he breaks the silence first, “But I'll let you get back to whatever it is you’re doin’...you look busy,” he tilts his chin to the paint that’s splotched over your bare legs. You can tell he’s looking for the story behind the mess. 
His left hand leaves his pocket and he places it on the doorframe. He leans into it, and your eyes catch the firmness of his bicep flexing under the strain of his lean before meeting his face once more. 
“Cute shirt, by the way” he says, his voice low and even. 
“Oh thanks, you like it?” you ask, pulling the fabric out in a tent from the center, noticing the little splatters of paint as you do. “It’s my aunt’s, I just borrowed it while I finish up some painting.”
“Yeah, I have the same one,” he adds, “looks a helluva lot better on you than it does me, though,” a little laugh leaves his chest and his cheeks flush, a little embarrassed that he just said that. Fuck, it’s been so long since he’s tried to flirt with a woman. 
Your skin prickles with heat, and you’re suddenly very self-aware of what a wreck you must look like, but you decide to be bold anyway. “Maybe we’ll have to compare sometime,” you playfully retort.
“Yeah, maybe we will,” he responds, looking you up and down, hoping the meaning behind his words isn’t too obvious. 
“Well if ya ever need anything, ‘m just across the way,” he says, dropping his hand from the doorframe, hitting his thigh with a slight sound of a pat. “Nice to meet ya, Darlin’,” he says. You don’t miss the way his eyes flicker down to your chest once more, your stiff nipples now peeking through the fabric. He turns on his heels and turns his back to walk back to his apartment. 
“Nice to meet you, Joel,” you purr. His head peers over his shoulder back at you, and the corners of his lips turn up in a little smirk. 
Oh god. 
You’re so fucked.
++++
Later that night, you text your aunt that you just met Joel Miller. You curse her for not telling you how incredibly hot he is.  You also tell her that you decided to finish the painting, sending a selfie of you in front of the freshly updated walls with the message. You also add that you borrowed one of her shirts and that you’ll do your best to get the paint out of it. 
Her response causes your breath to hitch in your throat, and your stomach swirls into a tight knot. 
“The walls look amazing! Oh and by the way, that’s not my shirt, it’s Joel’s. I must have forgotten to give it back to him; the shared laundry downstairs sometimes causes mix-ups. Be a doll and give it back to him, will ya? Oh and quarters for the machines are in the clay pot next to the door.” 
Fuck. Of course you would answer the door to your incredibly hot neighbor, covered in paint, in his shirt. You shake your head in embarrassment.
You look down at the shirt and notice just how much paint is all over it. You strip it from your body, bring it over to the sink, and begin to scrub the paint out of it with dish soap. As you watch the paint fade into the warm water, you notice the tag on the inside of the shirt and the rank inscribed in permanent marker on it. 
Your fingers prune in the water, but you eventually get all of the paint out of the fabric. Satisfied with your cleaning job, you hang it up to dry and scribble out a note. 
The following morning, on your way out to explore the city, you leave it neatly folded on Joel’s doorstep. You don’t bother to knock, you’re certain you might combust from embarrassment if you did. 
Shortly after, on his way to work, Joel opens the door and notices the shirt by his boot, a little envelope placed on top of it. 
“You could have told me it was your shirt, Captain Miller.” 
Joel smirks. The cat’s out of the bag on that little secret then. He places it inside and lets out a little sigh. The image of your perky nipples, exposed legs, and messy paint-riddled hair flashes in his brain. 
God, he wishes you would have kept it. 
S U M M E R
As spring transitions into summer, the city experiences a gradual warming trend. Cherry blossoms and tulips from spring slowly give way to vibrant green foliage. Parks become lively with people enjoying the pleasant weather, and outdoor events become more frequent. The temperature rises, and there's a noticeable shift towards a warmer atmosphere with longer days. 
It’s a shift you also feel in yourself, having found your niche, carving out your place in the ecosystem of the city. You’ve gradually adjusted, figured out how to successfully navigate the complexities of the subway system, and are starting to rely less and less on Google Maps to get around. You frequent a bodega around the corner from you, know where to find a decent bagel, and are a recognizable regular at Sang Garden. 
Your new job keeps you busy. It’s tough work being a bartender in the city, but it’s granted you more than one opportunity to meet people from all walks of life, people you’d never get the opportunity to meet back in your hometown. 
People like the gregarious and charismatic trader, who’s more than happy to make it clear he works in the financial district, even when nobody asks. People like the countless young professionals unwinding after a long day with their colleagues; some with sexual tension so obvious you can taste it. Designers. Architects. Engineers. Writers. Musicians. Actors. You don’t like them all, but you don’t have to, you’ll never see most of them more than once anyway. 
You quickly learn the art of making a good martini, one you think would make Samantha proud. It’s all so posh. So far from your usual. But the money is good, and without having to pay rent – a luxury you now realize; having almost fainted when your coworker told you how much he pays in rent – it allows you to pocket most of it. 
Your first few months in New York have been good, although a tad lonely. Making friends was never really a strong suit of yours, and you’re finding the city to be a particularly hard place to get to know people in any real way. Most of your free time is spent curled up with a good book or watching Friends for the millionth time, wishing Central Perk was a real place. 
You see Joel in passing now and then, the in-between times when he’s coming home from work, and you’re just leaving for yours. Sometimes you pass each other on the stairs, and you have to angle your bodies side-to-side just to fit on the narrow stairs as you navigate around one another. You sometimes have to collect your composure when you leave for work and notice the faint smell of his cologne still in the hallway, it smells so good it makes you dizzy. 
You find excuses to talk to him every now and then – a squeaky fire detector, to hand him his mail, or even for a stupid cup of sugar. Every time you find yourself knocking on his door, the butterflies congregate in masses as if preparing to migrate. You feel like a school girl with a crush for the first time, but as far as you can tell, Joel doesn’t feel the same, and you’re okay with that. At least that’s what you try to tell yourself. 
The exchanges are always short; little blips in the grand scene of time, but that doesn’t stop you from feeling like you might faint under the intensity of his scorching gaze. Which doesn’t help, considering it’s already sweltering outside. 
You severely underestimated how hot summer would be. Of course, you’re used to the oppressive Texas sun, but something about the way the buildings and concrete reflect the rays makes it feel like New York is at least 10x hotter. 
The temperature in your apartment isn’t much better than outside. The air hangs heavy inside as you lay on your mattress, clad in only a bra and underwear, on crisp white sheets, attempting to cool yourself with a damp towel on your forehead. You listen to the feeble hum of the wall crying out for help. 
As luck would have it, the overworked unit decides to give in to the heat. Beads of sweat form on your forehead as you attempt to fix it, but it’s pointless. You stare at the lifeless unit, realizing that the city’s relentless heat has claimed it as a victim. Time for a new one. 
Once the sun dips past the skyline, you venture out to your local hardware store to grab a new one. You wish you would have had some forethought to bring a cart or something, not thinking about the fact that you were going to have to carry the heavy unit eight city blocks. Coulda, shoulda, woulda, you think to yourself. Once back to your apartment, you balance the quirky box on your hip, holding it steady with one arm as you fumble to grab the key from your purse outside the entrance of the building. Your cheeks are warm, you’re drenched in sweat even at this hour, and your hair is starting to stick to the nape of your neck. You manage to grab it, but inadvertently drop it, your fingers clammy. 
“Shit,” you mutter, frustrated and hot. 
“Need some help there, Darlin’?” Joel asks, making his way up the stoop. You turn to face him and oh. 
Of all the times you’ve seen Joel, you’ve never seen him in uniform. The sight catches you off guard. His crisp, navy blue uniform emphasizes his broad shoulders and neatly tucked shirt, the shiny FDNY badge on his chest. He flashes a charming smile, revealing a hint of dimples, as he picks up your fallen key with ease. You’re not sure how he always manages to look so put together, a stark contrast to the way you always seem to look in front of him. 
"Rough day?" he asks, unlocking the door, and for a moment, you forget the oppressive heat, captivated by his charm. “Here, lemme take that for you,” he offers, and you kindly accept. You shift the box out of your arms into his, and your stomach swoops when you watch the way his biceps flex as he grabs the unit with ease. 
Grateful for the assistance, you offer a sheepish smile, “Yeah, you could say that” you reply, opening the door, holding it open for him. He begins to ascend the staircase ahead of you, giving you a full view of his ass in his uniform pants; it’s toned, and his thick thighs match. You walk behind him, trying to ignore the stickiness that’s beginning to pool in your underwear. You allow yourself to perv out for a moment, at least while his back is to you. He’s just helping you out, stop being weird.
Joel waits at the top of the steps for you to open your door. Once unlocked, you enter and he follows behind you. “Oh shit, it’s hotter than hell in here,” he says once inside, the irony is not lost on you that a literal man who fights fires for a living thinks it’s hotter than hell. He bends to place the box down near the front door and rises to full height, bringing both hands to his hips. You notice the little sheen of sweat that has now collected on his thick neck, fighting the impulse to lap up the perspiration. “You’re telling me, I’m rendering lard,” you say, letting your Southern roots shine through. You cringe a little at yourself, watering your accent down to not stick out as much, but you’re reminded of the age-old saying you can take the girl out of the country… 
You wipe the back of your hand on your forehead to push away the sweat that’s been collecting there all day and look at him. “Thanks for the help carrying it up,” you say, offering him a kind smile. 
“No problem at all, need some help installing it? These units can be tricky,” he asks, trying his best to ignore the fact that your white shirt has gone see-through from your sweat, allowing him a perfect view of your breasts. No bra again, he notes. He shifts his stance a little, trying to prevent his cock from hardening at the sight. 
“Are you sure?” you ask, a little unsure, but deep down you know you need the help. As much as you’d like to think of yourself as an independent and capable woman, you’ve never been one to be good with anything mechanical, and the heat has left your brain feeling like the static of a T.V. channel with no reception. 
“Course. I’m a servant to public safety. Can’t have you accidentally pushing it out the window and crushing a person below, it’d be a lot of paperwork” he chuckles and takes out a knife from his pocket to undo the tape on the box.  It’s an ordinary act, yet somehow you’re mesmerized by his dexterity and competency. 
Midway through the process, Joel pauses, feeling the heat, and glances at you with a lighthearted grin. “Mind if I take this off?” he asks, tugging at the collar of the uniform shirt. You nod, suddenly feeling warmer than before. “Sure, go ahead.” 
His large fingers fumble with the buttons on the shirt, eventually revealing a white tank top underneath. The fabric clings to him, highlighting his defined chest, and a little bit of belly. You practically drool at the sight, once again resisting an impulse to want to sink your flesh into the softness above his belt. 
He has an awful farmer's tan, but he wears it well; his forearms are a nice shade of golden and his shoulders are pale. You see from the lack of collar on the tank that he has a bare chest. He throws the uniform shirt onto a nearby chair and goes back to work installing the unit. You watch as he works to position it in the window, stealing glances at his glistening skin as he does. You think you’re being sly about it, but Joel can tell, he can feel your eyes heavy like bowling balls on him. 
“So, how long have you been a firefighter?” you ask.
“About 15 years,” he responds. “Sorta always knew I wanted to do it, I was a contractor for a while, but wasn’t my thing.”
“Oh no? You seem like you’re pretty good with your hands,” you reply, your words suggestive. 
“Never said I wasn’t, Darlin,’” he replies, shooting you a wink. 
He plugs the unit in, and the screen comes to life. He sets the temperature as low as it will go, and the fan on high; the unit is about to put in overtime to make the air tolerable again. 
“Well, that should do it,” straightening back up from his bent-over position, clapping his hands together as if to dust the task off. “Probably gonna take a while for it to cool down in here. You’re uh, more than welcome to hang out at mine for the time being. Don’t need you overheating on me,” trying to mask his excitement at you being in his space by carding his fingers through his salt and pepper curls. 
You glance at the unit, and you can tell he’s right. “Alright, why not,” you say, offering him a smile. “Just gonna use the restroom fast,” you say, looking for an excuse to make yourself at least somewhat presentable and confirm that you don’t smell like a sweaty subway car. 
Inspecting yourself in the harsh, exposing light of the bathroom, you grimace at your appearance. Not that you’d been expecting to look your best, but still. You pat the extra moisture off your skin with a clean towel, when you notice that nipples are straining against the fabric of your wet t-shirt, leaving nothing to the imagination. You briefly consider changing shirts, but the cheeky side of you decides to leave it be. You give yourself a quick smile and internal encouragement in the mirror and you step out of the bathroom. 
Joel waits in the foyer by the door for you, taking the opportunity to learn a little more about you, drinking in the details of your space for any glimmers of insight it might give him about your life. 
He’s been in the space before, but it’s different this time – updated. It still has many of the same things your aunt had put up, but you’ve added new additions to the walls; photos of you with friends, and family, and vinyl covers in frames. His eyes gravitate to a photo of you at your college graduation; your smile ear to ear, a bottle of champagne in your hands. You always seem happy. He likes that about you. He’d be lying if he said he didn’t look for a photo of you with another guy, a hint that you might already be taken, but he’s relieved when he doesn’t find one. 
The bathroom door opens with a soft creak, and you stroll out, shooting him a casual but confident smile. As you do, you casually tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear, giving off an easygoing vibe. It's a simple move, but there's a certain charm to it that doesn't go unnoticed by Joel.
“Ready?” you ask, and he clears his throat, trying to hide his pleasure that you opted not to change your still slightly transparent shirt. “Let’s get outta here,” he says, yanking on the handle, the door groans and opens with a loud creak. “Don’t wanna hit traffic.” Oh god, that’s a dad joke if you’ve ever heard one. You try to hide the stupid smile that graces your face, but Joel sees it, and matches it. Your shoulder brushes against his chest as you walk through the door, and Joel straightens in response, a little tingle shooting up his spine from the brief touch. Get a fucking grip, Miller, he thinks to himself, pulling the door closed behind him. 
++++
Once inside his apartment, you gasp. It’s not at all what you expected. 
If his front doorstep was any indication, you expected his apartment to be full of Ikea furniture, bare walls, and maybe a fake plant in the corner somewhere. You’re pleasantly surprised when you find that it’s the exact opposite; you feel like you’ve just wanted into some swanky bar. The air smells like palo santo, but above all, it’s cool. You let out a sigh of relief. 
“Can I get you a beer” he asks, and you nod your head in response. He walks into the kitchen, and you’re mesmerized by his space. It’s a similar layout to your apartment, but somehow it feels bigger, even a tad cozier, plus he has exposed brick, a detail you wish your apartment had. 
“Your apartment is amazing,” you tell him, spinning around to get a full 360 view of the space. You hear him yell something like thanks from the kitchen. 
You find your seat on the cognac-colored couch and run your hand up and down the texture of it. The leather is cool on your skin, and your body temperature slowly begins to return to normal.
Joel returns from the kitchen, and hands you a Bud Light. And for once, you don’t wish for it to turn into a martini. Now having spent a few months in the city, you’re starting to realize that you’re more of a bud girl than a cocktail girl, and that fairy godmothers are a tad overrated. 
You’re not sure when he did it, but your ear tunes to the classic sound of Beast of Burden by the Rolling Stones playing in the background at a low volume, adding a funk you adore to the moment. 
He finds a seat on the couch next to you and throws his arm behind you on the ledge. He crosses his legs over one another, and you squirm, not out of discomfort, but nerves. 
“I am impressed with your apartment, it’s well decorated,” you compliment him, bringing the bottle of beer to your lips. 
“Had a bit of help, ‘f I’m being honest,” he replies. Your stomach flips. 
“Oh?” you say, a bit breathless, waiting for the other shoe to drop. Of course, he would have a girlfriend. You see it plain as day now, the feminine touches built into the apartment, hanging on the walls in plain sight, taunting you with the obvious. He even has like ten live plants for fucks sake. Joel Miller is taken. 
“My daughter, Sarah,” he replies, bringing the beer to his mouth for another swig. You try not to make your sigh of relief too obvious. “Oh!” you squeak and turn your body to face him. You don’t know if you’ve scooted closer or if he did, but your thighs are now touching. 
“She’s studying interior design. Begged me this past year to let her fix up my apartment, and well…I didn’t have the heart ta say no,” he replies. “Said my apartment resembled a frat boys bachelor pad,” he lets out a gruff little chuckle and you smile at him. 
His arm drifts close to you, his hand nearly touching your shoulder. It’s not quite there, but you can feel the heat, the electricity, his fingertips shoot to your skin. So much for cooling down.
“Well, if you didn’t decorate the space, what’s your favorite part about it then?” you ask, taking another swig at the bottle. Joel stares at your lips as they latch around the glass, admiring how plush and warm they look. He’d be lying if he said he didn’t wonder what they might look like around his cock.
“Ah, good question,” he says, bringing his hand to cover his crotch with the bottle, all while subtly trying to adjust himself from his previous thought. He’s surprised he even heard your question at all. “Probably the table over there,” he says, nodding his head back to signal to the dining room. 
“Made it myself,” he says, a bit of pride in his voice. 
You crane your neck to look, but can’t get a good view with how plush the cushions are. You slightly angle your body upwards, coming onto your knee on the couch to look, bringing your chest closer to Joel’s face.
“Well I’ll be damned, you really must be good with your hands,” you playfully tease, letting your body sink by his side once more, feeling the warmth he exudes. Your words cause his gaze to go dark. “Mhmm,” he murmurs, taking another sip of his beer, sure if he said any more he might regret it. 
You notice the music switches to Kings of Leon, a favorite tune of yours echoing through the air. “Oh shit, I love this song,” you exclaim, barely able to contain your excitement, much to Joel’s delight. 
“Yeaaaaaah, your sex is on fireeeee,” you belt, and you inadvertently tilt your beer bottle a little too far down in the process of your solo, and a splash of beer pours out onto Joel’s lap. The action abruptly causes you to stop. 
“Ah, I’m so sorry,” you apologize profusely, setting the nearly empty bottle on the coffee table in front of you, noticing the box of tissues as you do.
“Don’t worry about it, Darlin’,” he says, voice mellow, placing his beer on the table, too.
You frantically grab a handful of tissues and bring them over to the wet spot pooling on Joel’s crotch. “Here, let me,” you say, dabbing at the liquid, the realization not fully hitting you that your hands are literally on his crotch until – oh.
Joel’s been walking the fine line of a stiff one all night, and your simple gesture throws him over the edge, the dabbing causing blood to rush to his cock. 
You continue to blot at the liquid and notice him stiffening underneath you. A heavy rush of arousal courses through you, and heats your core. Joel’s hand darts to grab your wrist, the size of it completely swallowing up your entirety of it, his fingers wrapped around it, and you’re certain he feels your pulse quicken under his touch.
You look up at him with big doe eyes, only to find his own pupils are blown open wide with lust, his jaw tense. His other hand finds the side of your face, and he holds you up to look at him. You both pause there, letting the tension of the moment swallow you whole. He looks at you like you're a juicy summer peach, ripe for the picking.
His grip on your wrist softens, and you flatten your hand to palm at his growing bulge. Joel lets out a deep groan in response to the full contact. “Shit darlin’,” he says, voice wrecked. His hand drifts to the column of your neck, and he begins to pull you up so you’re face-to-face with him. 
The anticipation builds, and just as your lips are about to meet, a sudden shrill sound shatters the moment – the fire alarm. 
“Fuck.” Joel groans.
TO BE CONTINUED - READ PART 2
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Tagging moots and those who I think might like this: @endlessthxxghts @theoasisofthings @bastardmandennis @untamedheart81@lavema @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog @dugiioh @nervoushottee @milly-louise @ghostwritesthings@josephquinnswhore @drunk-and-capable @peachmy @survivingandenduring@darkheartgatita @hotgirlbedtimescenarios @dins-riduur-anthe @ohheypedrito @joeldjarin @nerdieforpedro As always, feel free to let me know if you'd like to be added to my tag list, or removed (even if we're moots, no hard feelings). Might transition to a notifs blog soon.xx
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reareaotaku · 11 months
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JFK [Clone High] Headcanons
Seen a lot of Clone High on my FYP. Currently working on Joan of Arc Too. Maybe even Cleo
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Your classic dumb jock
You become quite irrated when talking to him, because he can never seem to say a full sentence without an 'uh' or 'er'
God, it's so annoying
He wears a mask so everyone likes him
But he can be sensitive and empathetic, but covers that up, because he thinks it's unmanly
Though, when you act like someone else, he'll confront you when you're alone, speaking like a normal person
"You're acting different"
You'll be surprised and turn to him, having almost jumped out of your skin, "Oh. Um, yeah. I guess so"
I mean, you were popular now and people liked you to appeal to them
"You know. I liked you better when you were you"
You're taken aback and turn to him a little offended
"Excuse me? You know nothing about me"
"But I want to"
Damn, he was smooth. And he knows it
So, he asks you out and you're still so surprised that you end up saying yes
He really cares about you and wants what's best for you believe it or not
Speaking of wanting what's best for you, he tries to keep bad influences [Abe] away from you
He's also gets jealous when other people try and hit on you. He knows you're great and all, but you're HIS girlfriend/boyfriend
These might be cheesy, but you change him. While he used to be egotistical and selfish, he soon becomes less into himself and more into you. While he used to be obsessed with people he's with being beautiful [Like Cleo], but with you, he loves you for you and he's obsessed with that
He loves the feeling of loving you and he loves being with you
You make him so happy and he doesn't ever want to lose you
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3d-wifey · 11 months
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PLEASEEEEEE LET ME LIVEEE
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jfks-phat-cheeks · 2 years
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may I interest you all in Halloween fics? send in some reqs <3 🎃 👻
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floralcyanide · 5 months
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⊱ 𝑆𝑡𝑎𝑦 𝐺𝑜𝑙𝑑 ― 𝐶𝑜𝑟𝑖𝑜𝑙𝑎𝑛𝑢𝑠 𝑆𝑛𝑜𝑤 ⊰
[ ᴀ ʜᴜɴɢᴇʀ ɢᴀᴍᴇs ᴀʟᴛᴇʀɴᴀᴛɪᴠᴇ ᴜɴɪᴠᴇʀsᴇ ғᴀɴғɪᴄᴛɪᴏɴ ]
― ᴏғғɪᴄɪᴀʟ ᴍᴀsᴛᴇʀʟɪsᴛ !
∿ sᴇʀɪᴇs ᴛᴀɢʟɪsᴛ !
∿ sᴇʀɪᴇs sᴏᴜɴᴅᴛʀᴀᴄᴋ !
― 𝘴𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘴 𝘮𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘵 𝘣𝘦𝘭𝘰𝘸 ⬎
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𝑝𝑟𝑜𝑙𝑜𝑔𝑢𝑒. 𝑐ℎ𝑎𝑝𝑡𝑒𝑟 𝑜𝑛𝑒: 𝑐ℎ𝑒𝑟𝑟𝑦 𝑤𝑖𝑛𝑒 𝑐ℎ𝑎𝑝𝑡𝑒𝑟 𝑡𝑤𝑜: 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑟𝑜𝑚𝑎𝑛 𝑔ℎ𝑜𝑠𝑡 𝑐ℎ𝑎𝑝𝑡𝑒𝑟 𝑡ℎ𝑟𝑒𝑒: 𝑔𝑜𝑙𝑑𝑒𝑛 ℎ𝑜𝑢𝑟 𝑐ℎ𝑎𝑝𝑡𝑒𝑟 𝑓𝑜𝑢𝑟: 𝑠𝑛𝑜𝑤 𝑜𝑛 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑏𝑒𝑎𝑐ℎ 𝑐ℎ𝑎𝑝𝑡𝑒𝑟 𝑓𝑖𝑣𝑒 (ℎ𝑒𝑎𝑑𝑐𝑎𝑛𝑜𝑛𝑠): 𝑒𝑛𝑑𝑙𝑒𝑠𝑠 𝑠𝑢𝑚𝑚𝑒𝑟
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youunravelme · 9 months
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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?
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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.
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scoutswritingcorner · 13 days
Text
More Incorrect Quotes
Hazbin Characters x GN!Reader
Characters: Alastor, The Vees (separate), Lucifer, Angel Dust, Husk
COULD BE SEEN AS EITHER ROMANTIC OR PLATONIC!!!!
Y/N: Alastor, what are you doing tomorrow? Alastor: Having my day ruined by whatever you’re about to ask me to do.
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Y/N: Vox… Vox: Oh no, 'Vox' in B flat. Vox: You're disappointed.
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Angel Dust: You know my motto: carpe diem, carpe noctem, carpe coles. Y/N: Seize the day, seize the night, what’s the last one? Angel Dust: Seize the dick.
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Husk: I’m doing my best. Y/N: You’re not doing anything. Husk: Yes, that’s what I’m best at.
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Y/N: Are pigeons drones? Valentino: What? No, I'm trying to sleep. Y/N: Think about it. How come you've never seen a baby pigeon? And why do you never actually see a pigeon nest? Because they're DRONES! Valentino: Crying Please let me sleep…
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Y/N: You are an absolute fucking dork. Lucifer, singing: Yeah, but I'm your dork! Y/N: sighs Yeah, you're my dork.
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Y/N: If I didn't know any better, I'd say you're impressed. Velvette: But you do know better.
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Alastor: How’s practice going? Y/N: Terrible. I want to stab everybody there. Alastor: Okay, just don’t get any blood on your clothes. Y/N: …you shouldn’t be condoning this. Alastor: Don’t tell me how to live my life.
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Angel Dust: My head hurts. Y/N: That’s your brain trying to comprehend its own stupidity.
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Vox: I was going to suggest we do Marilyn Monroe and JFK roleplay, but I’d get way too into it. Y/N: What- how? Vox: You’d be like “come to bed … Mr. President” and I’d be like, “I need to increase the amount of American military advisors in South Vietnam by a factor of 18.”
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Lucifer: Heh, Y/N sneezes like a girl. Y/N: How about I pound you like boy? Y/N: That didn’t come out right.
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