i was locked in and then andy sent me these and now i am LOCKED TF OUT BC HELLO??!!?!??
i am obsessed with this hair and i am dreading the start of season chop. this shade of blue looks great on him. he is fs holding back a smile in that first pic. he is so happy to finally be wearing that jersey again ugh quinnnnnnnnn
synopsis - You just want Luca to know that you're trying.
wc - 2.5k
contains - cursing, academic burnout (self reflection...), crying, not feeling good enough, reader has an older brother, um suggestiveness??? (reader makes one joke), that's it! LMK!
an - im so sorry i kept you guys waiting... but happy thanksgiving, forgive me im so thankful for you guys. this was a bit more self indulgent than my other fics... THIS WAS SO LATE BECAUSE i wrote 2000+ words then they didn't save and so i literally cried over it and couldn't write for the rest literal week whenever i came back to it i was upset, like i was that sad guys. and i really don't love this because it just isn't as perfect as the first one i wrote was. anyways hope you love this!
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i've been having a hard time adjusting. i had the shiniest wheels, now they're rusting.
You were sick. Not like physical illness, go to the doctor and get medicine sick. You were sick of waking up every day, going to the same classes, eating the same food, coming home, sitting alone in your dorm, then falling asleep and doing it over again. But you couldn't afford to do anything else at the same time. If you wanted to get the grades you needed to pass your current classes, you were going to have to work your ass off.
You were always considered gifted. You took advanced classes all of high school, attending college-level courses in your junior year. Even in your freshman year at Umich, you passed with flying colors, but now, now it was different. You don't know why classes were so much harder now, and it was especially hard because everything had always been so easy.
Even with all of this, you had Luca. Luca had been your boyfriend since October of freshman year. He'd always stood by your side no matter what, but now it felt different. He'd never seen you like this, struggling so much with things you were known for being good at. You remember him telling you how proud he was when you had gotten a 98% on one of your final exams last year, you were worried he wouldn't be proud anymore.
As a child, you were conditioned into thinking that better grades meant better treatment from your parents. Your brother had been a star student always until he'd slacked off senior year and ended up going to a college he was way too smart for. When that happened, your parents decided you wouldn't be like your brother. You would go to a good school, and get good grades, and in exchange they would love you, at least that's how it felt.
i didn't know if you'd care if i came back, i have a lot of regrets about that.
All the love you'd ever known was for a price, your parents', your boyfriend's, even your brother's it was like you had to be good enough before they would consider you lovable.
You never felt this from Luca, but you never gave him a reason to think otherwise. You'd always been this smart girl for him, a girl he bragged about to his friends. The girl he could go to for help in classes.
You didn't mean to be pushing Luca away, but you were so stressed and didn't want to bring him into it.
I know I already said you weren't sick like an illness, but right now you felt gross. You were stuffy and coughing and had a pounding headache, but you had assignments due at 11:59 pm and they couldn't wait. It was 9:03 pm and it didn't look like you were gonna get any relief from class work for a while longer.
pulled the car off the road to the lookout. could've followed my fears all the way down.
You didn't even know you were crying until you saw tears fall onto your iPad screen, where you were currently writing notes for a quiz you had tomorrow. You felt completely helpless. You couldn't stop and let yourself wallow, because you had to get moving on your study guide.
You dropped your Apple Pencil and just buried your face in your hands, rubbing your eyes till you saw stars. Your pity party was interrupted by your phone ringing. Your phone was on your studying do not disturb so if someone's call was coming through it had to be Luca's.
You quickly tried to steady your breathing before swiping to answer the call.
"Hi?"
"Hey. So, what's with you totally skipping my game? You know that meant a lot to me."
Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck. How did you forget? You were the worst girlfriend ever.
"Oh my God, Luca. I'm so fucking sorry, it completely slipped my mind, oh my God, I didn't even know. I had a really long day, baby, I'm so sorry."
You were trying not to cry even more, you didn't want Luca to think you were a crybaby. Crybaby. That's what your parents called you whenever you got like this, too much for them to love.
and maybe i don't quite know what to say,
Luca just sighed, upset. He was upset with you, and you couldn't fix it. You could hear rustling on Luca's end, and another voice. All of a sudden you were seventeen getting a call from your nineteen-year-old boyfriend while he cheated on you, while another girl laid with him.
but i'm here in your doorway.
You didn't think Luca would do that to you, you really knew he wouldn't. But that one part of you was just screaming that you'd proven yourself unworthy to him, that he was done.
i just wanted you to know,
"I just, I don't even know anymore. You haven't consistently talked to me in weeks, every time we do speak you're in your head, and you keep pushing things off and forgetting. I just don't know what I'm doing wrong here."
Fuck, you couldn't stop the floodgates now. You quickly sniffed, holding the phone away from you so he wouldn't hear, soaking the cuff of your sweatshirt sleeve with tears before trying to respond.
"No, no Luc, you're not doing anything wrong. The last month has just been tough, I just don't know how to tell you. I'm trying Luca, I am, and I'm sorry. I know it doesn't fix anything and you still have every right to be angry with me, I understand why-"
this is me trying.
"Hey, it's whatever, just don't worry about it."
No. No this couldn't happen like this. He couldn't be checking out of your relationship right now. You needed him, even if you didn't know how to tell him. You accidentally let out a whimper when you tried to speak, before shakily breathing a deep breath and trying again.
"No, it isn't. I'm not being good to you. I just- Fuck Luca I'm sorry I didn't mean to forget, and I'm not meaning to be such a bad girlfriend I just, there's just,"
"Just what?"
"I don't know how to tell you! I don't want you to think differently about me Luc. You've never seen me like this."
Your trauma was truly shining through, you were terrified of Luca thinking you weren't smart.
"Are you like uninterested now? You could just tell me, not lead me on! Not just ghost me!"
"No Luca! I love you so much, I'm in love with you. I just-"
You cut yourself off, letting out a stressed sigh, rubbing your eyes when you felt the tears prick in them.
i just wanted you to know,
You didn't know what to say, it was so complicated. Every time you ever tried to talk about this with your family they shut you down, told you you were wrong for feeling like you did, and you didn't want Luca to think those things too.
"I just can't do this stuff anymore,"
"What?"
this is me trying.
"I'm just not smart anymore, and everything is so hard. And I don't know how to talk to you about it 'cause I don't want you to think I'm not smart, but I don't think I am anymore."
"Oh, baby."
Luca was stunned, his girl was going through something and he was upset with her over a hockey game. He thought you were beginning to distance yourself from him because you started to be uninterested in him. He never would've assumed you were doing it because you were scared to talk to him. He never would've assumed you were scared he would think less of you.
"Hey, it's okay. Everything's gonna be alright, okay? How about I come over? We can talk more about everything and I know I'm not the brightest guy when it comes to all of your stuff but I could try to help. That okay, pretty?"
"Yes. Please, Angel. Need you right now."
"Okay, give me a couple minutes, I'll be right there. I love you, okay?"
"I love you, Luc."
Luca let you hang up, taking a deep breath and sitting for a moment just to take in what had just happened. He had a bad feeling in his stomach now, knowing how you were hurting. He quickly recovered and got up, putting his shoes and a hat on backward before leaving his dorm.
He walked fast through campus to get to your dorm building, the cold motivating him further. When he got to your dorm building, he quickly went up the stairs, taking two at a time, and to your room. You were in a single this year, so he wasn't worried about a roommate being bothered by his presence. He knocked on the decorated door gently, bouncing on his feet waiting for you.
they told me all of my cages were mental, so i got wasted like all my potential.
Luca could've sworn he felt his heart break when he saw your face, the exhaustion mixed with sadness wearing you down. He didn't say anything before jumping to wrap his arms around you, just holding you for a minute. You clung to him so tightly, you'd missed him so badly while digging yourself into a hole of isolation.
"Hi sweet girl."
You could've started crying again. He held you gently but firmly, and it was all you ever needed. You felt yourself relax for the first time in two and a half weeks.
and my words shoot to kill when i'm mad. i have a lot of regrets about that.
"Hi Luc"
You sniffled, and Luca just melted. He pulled away from you just a little, pulling his arms away so he could cradle your faces in his palms. You brought your hands up to rest on his wrists, rubbing your thumbs back and forth.
"I missed you, pretty."
You missed him like a little kid. But it was your fault you were ever apart.
i was so ahead of the curve, the curve became a sphere.
"I missed you. 'M so sorry I isolated myself from you, I'm so fucking stressed right now. Everything is hard and it's scary 'cause it's never been hard like this for me, and I-"
fell behind all my classmates and i ended up here,
"I know baby. It is scary. College is just scary. And you are like the smartest girl I think ever so I know it's like even scarier for you when things don't make sense quickly, but it's gonna be okay. Because you have your amazing, talented, stud of a boyfriend to help you."
pouring out my heart to a stranger. but i didn't pour the whiskey.
You gave him a look, laughing for the first time in many days.
"He is pretty amazing, and talented, and hot, isn't he?"
i just wanted you to know, that this is me trying. i just wanted you to know, that this is me trying.
He nodded reassuringly, before putting his hands on your hips and pushing you back into your room, closing your door behind him.
"Damn, you just got here."
"Shut the hell up."
You laughed as you climbed up onto your bed, pulling Luca up next to you after he took his shoes off.
at least i'm trying.
"So, about this class. What do we need to learn?"
You explained how tonight you only really needed to do two things, finish a paper that was 75% done, and do another assignment that if you could figure out how to understand the concept, would be done in no time. You both snuggled close together while looking at the paper, Luca helping you through sentences you got stuck on. You finished the paper quickly, then pulled up your notes for the concept of the other assignment.
and it's hard, to be at a party when i feel like an open wound. it's hard to be anywhere these days when all i want is you.
At one point Luca took your laptop to read through the notes so you just turned over and rested your head on his chest, before seeing his gorgeous hair covered by a stupid hat grabbing it off of him, and putting it on your bedside table.
"No hats in my room."
"What? Since when?"
"Since I want to see your pretty hair, not the maize and blue hat I see every other day."
Luca just laughed, shaking his head and running his non-scrolling hand down your back. Luca somehow understood the concept and reiterated it to you in a way that made everything click. He was your good luck charm, you knew it. Everything made sense with him.
you're a flashback, in a film reel, on the one screen in my town.
You made him lay on your chest with your laptop resting on his back while you completed the assignment. One hand was in his hair while the other was gliding across the keyboard. You finished it in 20 minutes. And your chest felt so much lighter after you hit the submit button.
You closed your laptop, sliding it onto the floor before putting both of your hands into Luca's hair.
"I knew you could do it, baby. You just needed someone to tell you that."
"I love you."
"I love you so much."
Luca's arms around your middle tightened, and he moved his head to look up at you.
"I know you feel like you have to be this perfect person, baby, but I need you to know you don't have to do that for anyone, especially me. Because you are everything, and I can't take care of you if you're scared to talk to me about how you're feeling. I know your parents and other people make you feel like if you don't do good at school they will love you less, but you need to know that you could flunk out of school, and you would still be the most important person to me, okay?"
i just wanted you to know, that this is me trying.
You were crying. You pulled him somehow closer and hugged him so tight, pulling away after over a minute to give him a good long kiss that expressed your gratitude. Because you were, so fucking grateful. This boy had seen all of it, and still chose you, and would continue to choose you until his last breath.
(and maybe i don't quite know what to say,)
"Thank you, Angel. You don't know how much hearing that means to me. I love you, so so much."
"You're everything. I see that you're trying, and that is always gonna be enough."
i just wanted you to know, that this is me trying. at least i'm trying.
What's in my makeup bag?
pairing: Quinn Hughes x fem!reader
summary: You asked Quinn a harmless question but his outburst made you wonder about your whole relationship with him and how he sees you
warning: swear words
The small disagreement went too far. It shouldn’t be looking like that. You were sitting in the kitchen with tears running down your face. The apartment was cold and still you could sense the screaming in the air. The sound of the slammed door was stuck in your ears and you knew that you won’t get any sleep tonight. You didn’t know what to think anymore and were wondering where the conversation went downhill and ended up with him leaving you and you not stopping him.
Quinn threw his suitcase into the trunk. He sat on the driver's seat but he didn’t start driving, Instead, he punched the steering wheel a couple times to get the steam out of him. He couldn’t believe in what just happened. He didn’t know if he should run back upstairs and talk with you or drive to the airport and leave you alone. After 10 minutes, he decided that both of you needed a space before another conversation.
“I don’t want to go to Michigan” You said. You were sitting on the floor with your suitcase open. “Why can’t we go to Italy or France or Hawaii at least?”
“We always go back to Michigan for vacation. Why don't you want to go there now?” Quinn put his phone down and looked at you.
“Because I want to spend time with you. Alone. Somewhere without hockey” You said the last part quietly but Quinn heard it.
“What does it supposed to mean?” Quinn asked you firmly.
“Your whole life is about hockey. We could go somewhere without your job” You stood up and leaned on the wall.
“Since when is my job a problem?” Quinn also stood up and crossed his arms on his chest.
“It’s not like that” You started but he didn’t let you finish.
“You see, my job brings money. Thanks to my job you have your dream things and a fucking place to live. The least you can do is to show a little grattitude" Quinn said and you looked at him in disbelief.
“What the fuck Quinn? I’m working just like you. I don’t need your money, it's you who always pays and buys things for me, even when I don’t want to. You’re the one who won’t let me pay the bills” You said louder.
“Because with your small paycheck you wouldn’t be able to afford the life you have now” Quinn yelled at you. You froze in the spot and felt like you couldn't breathe. “I’m going to Michigan. Don’t bother to come with me since you’re so miserable there” Quinn grabbed his suitcase and with a loud slam, he closed the door behind him.
The next morning, you woke up with a massive headache. You slept a total of two hours. Quinn’s words were replaying in your head. You felt hurt and humiliated by him. He used the fact that you don’t have a well paid job as he has against you. This made you question your whole relationship with him.
You were wondering if Quinn sees you as a gold digger. In the four years of you two being together, he never had an issue with your job or money. In fact, he was always happy to help you financially because he wanted to spoil you. Now, you feel like everything you own is his. You looked at your phone and saw that he hadn't tried to contact you. With a sigh, you threw your phone on the night stand and went to the bathroom.
Quinn was furious when he arrived in Michigan. Everyone could tell that something happened, especially when they saw that you’re not with him. His mother asked him about it but he just ignored the question. He didn’t want to be lectured about how he acted. In his mind, he knew he was right.
He was the one who was paying for everything. He was the one who was taking care of you and the least you could do was to show him support and come with him to see his family. He didn’t think about how you were feeling or how it looked the other way around. That’s why he decided not to talk with you, until you reach out to him to apologise.
You were sitting in the bathroom and saw all the makeup products that Quinn bought you. You couldn't use them, you felt like it didn't belong to you. That’s why you made a list of the products you need to buy and the rest you put into a box to give to him when he returns. If he returns. You did the same in the closet.
It’s been a week since that fight. You and Quinn haven’t spoken a word to each other. His mom was tired of him walking around the house like nothing happened when she could sense that he’s on the verge. She forced him to talk and when he finally admitted to what happened, she was left speechless.
“This is not how I raised you” His mom said. “What were you thinking?”
“That’s her fault” Quinn shrugged.
“It’s not. She just wanted to spend time with you far away from hockey. Can’t you see? In Vancouver, the whole life is about hockey. In summer, when you’re coming here, you’re always training for the preseason and the house is always full of hockey players” His mom said.
“That doesn’t change the fact that she’s living on my money. She could be at least grateful” Quinn said and his mom looked at him with wide eyes.
“She’s working. She’s not living on your money. You’re the one who wants to spend the money on her. She’s never gonna earn that much money as you do but she’s trying to bring the money home. Don’t act like she’s just sitting at home and waiting for your paycheck” His mom said furiously. “Think about it and you’ll see how hard she’s working” With the last words, his mom left him in the living room.
Quinn just sighed and started thinking about her words. He was replaying the last months in his head and finally noticed how much he was wrong. He saw that he was the one who was spoiling you. He was the one who never let you pay for anything and even tried to encourage you to take his credit card when you were out shopping.
When the realisation hit him, Quinn knew that he had to fix it. Without thinking, he booked plane tickets to see you and apologised to you. He knew that there’s a lot to fix and hoped that you’ll be willing to listen to him. All the time he was thinking why he acted like such a dick.
You were hurt by Quinn’s words. That’s why you decided to get back to work. You took a month free to spend time with him but since he left you, you get back there. All the things that Quinn ever bought you were in the box that was standing in the living room. You didn’t want them. Since now, you wanted to buy everything for yourself.
In your spare time, you were looking for a new apartment that you could afford. You didn’t want to live in his place. You wanted something that you could own and pay for it. His words really messed up with your head and you couldn’t get them out of your mind.
Quinn got back to his apartment and it was quiet. There was no sign of you. The only thing he saw was the box with your things. He expected the worst, that you left him. He sat on the couch and ran his hands through his face. He regretted everything he said.
“What are you doing here? I thought you’re in Michigan?” You asked him and put your bag on the chair.
“I got back to apologise and fix the damage” Quinn stood up and went to hug you but you ignored him and went to grab the water from the fridge.
“Don’t bother. I’ll move out so you don’t have to spend the money on me” You said with irony.
“What do you mean? I don’t want you to move out” Quinn said with a panic in his eyes.
“I want to. You were right. You’re spending money on me when you don’t have to. I’ll find a new place that I can afford so you don’t have to worry about it” You took a sip. “And you have all the things you bought me in the box. It’s yours and not mine”
“Stop. Don’t do this to me” Quinn begged you and you laughed.
“I’m not doing anything to you. I’m just trying to show you that my small paycheck can afford my life and I don’t need you” You shrugged.
“Are you breaking up with me?” Quinn asked out of blue.
“No but I don’t want you to be my sugar daddy or other shit” You said.
“Please stay” Quinn grabbed your hand. “I’m sorry for everything I said. I acted like a dick when you didn’t deserve it. I don’t want you to move out. I want you here” Quinn said.
“You hurt me. I hope you know that. Quinn, we've been dating for four years, I just proposed a different destination and you acted like I’m the problem” You sighed. “I don’t even know if I can trust you if you’re seeing me that low”
“I love you. I don’t have anything in my defence because what I said was unacceptable but I love you and I want to fix it” Quinn said. “Please”
“Under two conditions” You said.
“Anything” Quinn quickly responded.
“One, no more buying things for me” You said and Quinn nodded. “Two, we’re paying 50/50 the bills” Quinn wanted to protest but he saw the look in your eyes and knew that he’s on lost position.
“Deal” Quinn said with a smile. “I’m sorry for being an asshole to you” Quinn pulled you into a hug.
“Apology accepted but don’t do that again or I’m really gonna leave you” You said and Quinn kissed the top of your head as a sigh that he understood.
well… since u touched the subject i might need to see some naked napping with lukey because the skin to skin contact brings him oh so much comfort, thats just so cutie of him
You push up onto your elbow, Luke’s arm slipping further down your waist and the mattress dips slightly. Sitting up briefly, you exhale deeply, eyes barely a crack open and reminding you that you’re still in Luke’s bed, bare of clothes in the early afternoon with his arm now slung around your hips. You peer down at him, his curls unruly, face soft and free of strain as his chest rises and falls with a soundness to it, but he’s pretty. He’s pretty with his long eyelashes, his pinchable cheeks and strong nose speckled with little moles. He’s at peace until his lips part and arm curls tight around you, his quiet message telling you what he wants.
“Don’t go…” he mumbles, voice husky and thick with sleep, croaky like it’s balled at the back of his throat.
Gently, you pat his hair, like a puppy, watching the curls bounce with a short giggle at his sleepy whine. He doesn’t open his eyes, just pouts and burrows his face into the pillow, trying to pull your body closer.
“Not, I’m turning over.” You say, turning to face him and laying back down, your arm winding around his waist as his hand glides up your spine, sending goosebumps rising over your neck and waking up a small, tingly feeling - but not on an arousing level, on a level where he knows you find backrubs soothing.
Now face to face with him, he doesn’t hesitate to hold you tighter, his hand slipping onto your thigh and hooking it over his hip before wrapping back around your waist. His exhale’s deep, like he’s sinking into the mattress now he’s comfortable again, now he’s got enough skin contact to feel safe.
“Good…you’re warm.”
You lay in silence, listening to his breathing pattern, to the outside noise, to Jack shutting the front door and you admire his features for the millionth time. But your hand runs along his waist, slowly, following his shape and down his stomach, fingers tracing over the ridges where his abs dip, up his chest where your palm lays flat over his pectorals, making his heart swell with a fuzzy feeling to it. He loves when you make a fuss of him, his muscles relax under your palm as you pull your hand back down his chest and to his stomach, rounding over his waist again and gliding up and down his figure, lovingly, comfortingly. It’s not to wake him, or to rile him up, his skin’s just so smooth and he’s lying still for once, embracing your touch and the different textures in his physique feels satisfying on your skin and truth be told, you’re both magnets with each other, handsy in different ways but at your most calm when you’re pressed together with skins melting into each other.
Luke’s hand lowers down your back, his voice quiet and lips attempting to stifle his smile. “Don’t do that, baby.”
“Why not?” you tease him, drawing patterns over his side with your fingertip and feeling him twitch and grip onto your hip tight, “Thought you liked when I touched you?”
His eyebrows pull together, sleep disturbed. “Do, but you tickle me ‘n’ that’s not fair. M’sleepy.”
The way you giggle sounds like a lullaby to him, and he takes your hand and places it to his cheek, kissing your palm. He’s adorable, as much as he’ll deny it, but you wiggle your hand free, sliding to his nape and threading your fingers into his hair, leaning into him and pressing a gentle kiss to his lips. Nothing over the top, just a long kiss where the hairs on your arms stand on end as his arm winds around you again, his palm flat between your shoulder blades and pressing you against him, the heat from your skin tangling. He slips out a small moan, kissing you back before you depart.
“You’re right, sorry, pup.” You coo to him.
“C’mere,” he rolls onto his back, taking you with him until your cheek lays on his pectoral, your body tucked against him and his hand running, admiring, along your bare skin - warm and smooth to the touch - until he continues, “love you, angel.”
You keep your leg hooked over his hips; arm wound around his torso with a small smile across your lips. “Love you too, Lu.”
And you lie there, drifting into slumber while moulding into each other’s bodies again, your body heats circulating beneath the covers comfortably with clothes scattered on the floor, awaiting you when you wake back up. It’s not long until Luke’s gentle snoring fills the room again, but he’s honest when he says he sleeps better naked with you and sometimes you think it’s because his mind thinks you’ve just had sex - which isn’t the case this time. The case is simply his body pressed with yours is home to him, the oxytocin he needs.
You snuggle into him, and his arms tighten around you. This is one of the rare, quiet moments in your lives that you value the most.
could i request an insecure reader (thinking she isnt his standard/ like other hockey girlfriends) and becomes distant but he fights for her and shows how much he needs/ loves her? With Clay maybe 🫠
Thank you so much Anon!!!! This one is a little on the shorter side but I still loved writing it. Clayton is really becoming one of my favorites to write for 🤭
Enough for me – Clayton Keller
You never planned on falling for a professional hockey player.
Not because you didn’t like hockey, but you always pictured the type of girl that ended up with someone like Clayton Keller: stunning, confident, probably with a massive social media following and a wardrobe full of designer. The kind of girl that just fit into that world.
You weren’t that girl.
When you first met Clayton through a mutual friend you honestly didn’t even expect him to remember your name.
He was kind, funny and down-to-earth, but still he was Clayton Keller. An NHL player. Someone with interviews, fans and endorsement deals.
Yet somehow, he did remember your name and he called and kept calling.
One dinner turned into five. Then into late-night phone calls when he was on the road. Then into soft “I miss you” texts after games and before you knew it, you were waking up next to him, weaning one of his hoodies, trying to convince yourself it was real.
For a while, it was good.
Then, slowly, something shifted.
It started small. You would catch a glimpse of one of the other players´ girlfriends – tall, model-beautiful, perfectly styled – and feel a flicker of doubt in your chest.
At first, you brushed if off. Clayton had chosen you. He kissed your forehead in the morning, sent you sweet pictures from the team plane, made your laugh until your stomach hurt.
But the feeling kept growing.
You saw how easily those other girls floated through the arena hallways, greeting PR staff and other WAGs like they belonged.
You weren’t like them. you didn’t know what to say at team dinners. You didn’t have the same social clout. You didn’t even look like them.
So, you started pulling away.
At first, you just stopped going to some games. Then you stopped texting as often when he was on the road. You told yourself it was for the best, that it was better to start building distance now than get hurt later when he realized he could do better.
You didn’t want to be the embarrassing girlfriend he had to explain.
Clayton noticed, of course. He wasn’t stupid.
“Are you okay?” he asked one night after practice, noticing the way you barely looked at him as you cleared your dinner plate.
“Yeah, I´m just tired,” you lied, offering him a small smile.
He gave you a look, one of those unreadable stares he sometimes wore in interviews when reporters asked too much but didn’t push.
He kept noticing though.
When he tried to kiss you in the morning and you subtly turned away.
When you skipped his game against Vegas, even though you had promised to go.
When you started answering his “I miss you” texts with a simple and short “you too”.
Something was wrong.
-----------
It came to a stop one night after a home win.
Clayton had scored twice and assisted another. You knew you should have been happy for him, he had been on fire lately, but your thoughts were stuck on how perfect one of the other girlfriends looked when she posted a picture in the family suite: all styled curls and glossy lips, smiling effortlessly next to her NHL boyfriend.
You hadn’t gone, telling Clayton you had work, but the truth was you just didn’t want to sit in that box feeling out of place again.
----------
You were curled up on the couch when you heard his key in the door.
He walked in, still a little sweaty from the game, eyes scanning the room until they landed on you.
“Hey,” he greeted, “Didn’t see you up there.”
“I told you I had to work,” you explained, keeping your eyes on the TV.
He stood in the living room for a beat too long. Then walked over and sat beside you.
“You didn’t even text after the game,” he said.
“I saw the highlights, you did great.”
“Did I do something?” he asked, his voice lower now.
That made you look at him. “What? No.”
“Because you´ve been acting weird for a while now.” He was serious. How blue eyes didn’t waver. “You barely talk to me when I´m on the road. You´re always finding reasons not to come to games. I don’t know what´s going on, but it feels like you´re pulling away.”
You bit the inside of your cheek. This wasn’t what you wanted, but how could you explain it without sounding pathetic?
“I just think…” you started, then trailed off.
“What?”
“I just think maybe I´m not what you need.” You stood up, pacing slightly. “I don’t fit into your world, Clayton. I´m not like the other girls. I don’t have thousands of followers or know how to pose for rink-side photos. I don’t know what to say at team dinners. I´m not…polished.”
Clayton blinked, like he couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “You think I care about any of that?”
“I think eventually you will.”
He stood too. “Where is this coming from? I´ve never made you feel like that. At least I hope I didn’t.”
“You don’t have to. I see it every time I go to one of your games. I see how people look at me. I hear the way other girlfriends talk. I just…I don’t want to be the one you´re settling for because she´s nice and easy to have around.”
His jaw tensed. “I´m not settling for you,” he almost spat. “Jesus, I´m with you because I love you.”
You stared at him.
“I don’t want some picture-perfect Instagram model who wants me for my name or my money. I want someone who makes me laugh when I´m on a ten-game losing streak. Someone who makes me grilled cheese at 2 am and wears my hoodie to bed. Someone who sees me as Clayton, not Clayton Keller captain of the Utah Mammoth.”
You looked down, tears starting to burn in your eyes. “I just don’t feel like enough,” you whispered.
He stepped forward, gently tilting your chin up. “You are more than enough. I don’t care what anyone else thinks. If you´re feeling this way, then I messed up, not by picking you, but by not making sure you knew every day how much you mean to me.”
Your voice cracked. “I didn’t want to make it your problem.”
“Well, it is, because I care about you and I can´t keep watching you slip away from me when all I want is to build a life with you.”
You blinked at him. “Build a life?” you repeated.
“Yeah,” he said, eyes softening. “I want you there after every game. I want to hear about your day when I get home. I want us to keep figuring this out together.”
You let out a shaky breath. “I´m scared.”
“That´s okay,” he mumbled, brushing a strand of hair out of your face. “I´ll show you that you don’t have to be.”
-------------
Things didn’t change overnight. Insecurity didn’t vanish with a single conversation, but Clayton tried, he really tried, to show you that he meant every word.
He started inviting you to every little thing, not just big events, but casual dinners, movie nights with the guys, even low-key training days.
He kissed your forehead in public. Introduced you proudly. Held your hand in front of anyone and everyone.
When someone made a rude comment about you online once, he didn’t ignore it. He clapped back, posting a picture of the two of your with the caption: Wouldn’t trade her for the world.
You laughed at it, then cried because no one had ever defended your like this.
And then, slowly, piece by piece, you started to believe it. That maybe you didn’t need to be the “typical” hockey girlfriend. That maybe you just needed to be the person Clayton fell in love with, the one who stayed up late watching movies, made sarcastic jokes, and kissed him good luck before games.
One night, weeks later, he came home after an away series, tired but smiling. You met him at the door in one of his oversized sweatshirts, hair up, no make-up.
He dropped his back and pulled you into his arms “God, I missed you,” he mumbled into your neck.
“I missed you too.”
He pulled back to look at you. “You coming to the game on Saturday?”
You hesitated, old instincts, then saw the look in his eyes. He wasn’t just asking. He wanted you there.
So, you smiled. “Wouldn’t miss it for the world.”
He kissed you, long and soft, then whispered: “I love you.”
You believed him this time. Not just because he said it, but because he showed it, every day.
And maybe that was what made you enough all along.
summary: post for anon! aaron and reader have an argument and he gets hurt!
t/w: standard criminal minds violence, angst ends with fluff!
"you have no right!" you shout to your boss. your arms cross your chest, all your stress being held in your shoulders. hotch stares down at you, matching your stance, his desk in between you.
"i have every right!" he shouts back. "you disobeyed a direct order!"
you don’t care that the sexiest man on the planet is yelling at you. you don’t care that his impenetrable gaze is a slight turn on. you don’t care that just last night he had you pressed up against the door of his closet, kissing you as if his life depended on it. as if he stopped, he’d die.
you. are. pissed.
"i did what i had to do to keep that little boy safe!" hotch told you to wait until the other agents arrived. he said not to enter the house alone. but you did it anyway. you knew the unsub was aware of the fbi presence and you needed to get to the little boy. having him in your arms safe made the risk worth it.
hotch rounds the desk to stand toe-to-toe with you. he bends down to look into your eyes. "you put yourself at risk." his eyes soften just a fraction. "you're suspended from the field, one case."
"which one?"
"this one." he holds your gaze, daring you to challenge him. "you'll stay back with garcia." the challenge is still palpable in his gaze. just as you open your mouth, derek stops at the door.
"jet's ready," he says.
“aaron, come on,” you plead, forgetting that at work he’s hotch. he stared back at you. his brown eyes burning a hole into yours.
your name falls from his lips like a prayer. “you’re staying here. that’s final.” he bends down to pick up his go-bag. “i’ll see you when we get back.” hotch leans over to kiss your lips, but you turn your head, giving him your cheek. he frowns, stepping around you to head out the office. “i love you,” he calls over his shoulder.
it kills you, but in your anger, you refuse to answer him. you pout all the way to garcia’s office.
“welcome to my lair, my pretty,” garcia greets you with a smile, patting the empty chair next to her. you try to return her smile, but you’re still so angry. “are you okay?” she asks.
“no. i’m pissed. i can’t believe he suspended me from the field!” you exclaim.
garcia looks at your, pity in her eyes. “you know he’d do the same with any member on the team.”
you slouch in your seat, crossing your arms over your chest. “i know,” you grumble. of course she’s right. hotch is the poster child for professionalism. he compartmentalizes better than anyone else on the team. in the field, he’s hotch. he’s your boyfriend, but no one would ever know it from the way he interacts with you.
at home he’s aaron. he dotes on you. he makes sure you have dinner. he’s your boyfriend, and everyone around you knows it. he kisses you so everyone in the bar knows who you belong to.
and you can’t believe you let him go off into the field with a forced cheek kiss and an ignored declaration of love.
“ugh, why must you make me see logic, penelope?” you groan.
~
the case has been going on for a few days, but the team is close to apprehending the unsub. garcia clicks on her keyboard at lightning speed, cross checking various facts against a group of men.
as annoyed as you were at the beginning of the case, hanging out with pen has opened your eyes to a new appreciation of her. of course, you knew how hard she worked, but seeing her in action was something totally different.
“i’ve got someone! his name is jacob carmichael. im sending his address to your phones,” garcia says, smashing buttons.
“got it, garcia,” hotch’s beautiful, deep, and serious voice comes over the coms.
“be careful!” you caution.
“always,” he says.
the two of you haven’t spoken outside of the case. only running ideas and profiles off of one another. you’re dying to apologize. to hear those three words again and return them. anytime the two of you fought, you always saved the making up for in person. when you can look each other in the eye.
you listen as the team goes through the plan, your stomach knotting up with anxiety. hotch was the one going into the house to talk down the unsub. you were always nervous when hotch was taking point, but it was worse with him hundreds of miles away.
the fbi suv’s gps show you and garcia that the team had arrived at the unsubs location. you and garcia exchange a look of apprehension. it was quiet on their end, eerily quiet.
“fbi! we’re coming in!” hotch announces to someone you can’t see. a gunshot has you and penelope hugging on another. you pray it was someone on the team pulling the trigger. gunfire exchanges for 30 seconds.
“hotch is hit! i repeat hotch is hit. we need medical!” a shrilling tone fills your ears. it takes you about 2 full minutes to come to your senses.
“garcia, get me on a plane!” you shout to her as you run to the go-bag at your desk.
~
seeing your strong boyfriend lying in a hospital bed is almost your undoing. the past few hours have been spent listening to the sound of hotch’s heart monitor. the unsub got him twice. once in the shoulder and the other shot caught him on the outside of his waist.
the hospital has him under a medically induced coma to help him heal. a five o'clock shadow dusts his cheeks from his time spent laying in this bed.
“pretty girl, why don’t you head to the hotel and get some real rest,” derek tells you. you’ve been holding aaron’s hand, resting your head next to him on the hospital bed. your back was completely killing you.
“no. i can’t. i need to be here when he wakes up,” a tear slides down your cheek. “i have to be here when he wakes up. i need him to know i was here for him." derek's hand runs over your shoulder.
"this isn't your fault."
you shake your head. "we got into a fight before the case. i was so angry with him." sitting straight up, derek meets your eyes with pity. no doubt he heard most of the argument before letting hotch know it was time to go. "i didn't tell him i loved him before he left."
you replayed the moment over and over in your head on the plane. turning your head so he couldn't give you a proper kiss. completely ignoring him as he walked out the door. because he was doing his job.
"i'm not leaving, derek." derek hangs around for a minute before leaving you alone with hotch. you bring his hand to your lips, kissing his palm. his hand twitches in yours, holding your breath, you look to him. his eyes flutter open and relief floods your body.
"i know you love me too," he murmurs.
"aaron," his name comes out on a breath.
"c'mere." he pulls you to him with the hand you've been holding hostage. he grimaces in pain as you gently put your arms around him. he feels like home. he feels safe, like nothing can hurt you.
"i'm so sorry, aaron," you start. tears sting the back of your eyes, before falling along your cheeks. "i'm so sorry."
his head shakes beneath you. "honey, stop." he reaches out to kiss your tears. "honey." the tears fall uncontrollably now. soft sobs escape as it hits you just how close you were to losing this man.
you pull yourself from him so he can raise the hospital bed into a siting position. he looks how you feel. he lays his head back against his pillow, then turns towards you. the sadness in his eyes almost knock you out.
"i was upset because you put yourself in danger," he murmurs. "yes, you disobeyed an order. yes, i would have suspended anyone on the team for doing so. you aren't just anyone, baby." he reaches out for your hand. he pulls you to him again and you sit on the edge of his bed. your free hand reaches out to nestle in his hair. "i couldn't live with myself if something happened to you."
"i thought i was going to die when i head them call medical for you," you tell him. "and i wasn't there." the tears threaten to fall again. you lean your forehead against his. hotch's hand comes up to cup your face. you close the space between you, kissing him the way your should have when he left for this case. his hands knot in your hair, keeping you against him. his other hand grips at your waist, his hold not as strong as it normally is, but it still sends chills down your body regardless.
"i love you," you say against his lips, the way you should have when he left. "i'm sorry, aaron. i promise i will never disobey an order again."
hotch's mouth quirks up in the corner. "please don't lie to me, baby." hotch hugs you against him, and you laugh into his neck. he smells like gunpowder and leather--your favorite. his dark hair is soft between your fingers.
"i promise i won't disobey to the point of being suspended from a case again." you kiss along his neck, hoping to distract him.
"i'll take it," he says, craning his head to catch your mouth in his.
"what are the odds that you're going to keep growing this stubble out?" you ask him when he releases you from hiss kisses. he shakes his head, looking at you in awe.
"you're something else, honey." he kisses you. "and no, the suits call for a clean shave." you kiss along the stubble on his jaw, up toward his ear. "we'll talk about it at length when we bust you out of here."
summary: you and matthew promised yourselves once you took each others virginity's, nothing would change between you. but fast forward 3 years - between casual hook ups and spending all your time with one another: you can't help but fall deeper and deeper in love with your best friend.
[word count] 24.8k
warnings: NSFW! slow burn | friends with benefits | friends to lovers | loss of virginity (reader + matthew | secret relationship | angst | fluff | suggestive themes | alcohol | smut | kissing | grinding | fingering | unprotected! p in v intercourse | read at your own discretion.
🎵 I guess they call it fallin’ by kelsea ballerini, stand by me by ben e. king, wish I had you by ruel, better by khalid, so high school by taylor swift, birds of a feather by billie eilish, intro (end of the world) by ariana grande, + cherry wine by zachary knowles
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Prologue: 3 years ago
since your shared freshman year of highschool, you knew you'd follow matthew knies anywhere.
when you moved to arizona the summer before the september school year, you had never dreaded anything more than the first day of highschool. all that fear and dread faded when you sat down in your home room beside matthew.
you're not sure how it even happened, but soon enough you and matthew became best friends. maybe it was because he reminded you of your old friends from public school - or maybe it was the way matthew treated you so kindly that very first day. you two were always seen with one another - in school halls and out of them.
it didn't take long for you to realize you had feelings for your best friend. I mean, he was nothing short of perfect. your little teenage hormones couldn't help but notice how handsome he was and how good he smelled - his growing biceps and how he seemed to get taller every summer: it was impossible to not fall for him.
you were always good at hiding your feelings. in fear of loosing your closest friend, you didn't even give hints away that you craved something more with matthew. you would take your friendship and hidden crush over loosing him completely- always.
but then something changed.
it was your senior year of highschool. college and university acceptance letters were flying through the doors, celebratory parties and drinking away the weekends were constant reminders of the upcoming graduation. like you've always known, you would follow your best friend everywhere - and that included post secondary school. when matthew got accepted to play for the university of minnesota's hockey team, you worked your butt off to get the grades the university was looking for. all that extra studying, and staying up late for practice payed off: you were accepted to the university of minnesota.
with only a week left before graduation, you and matthew found yourselves at some mutual friends house party. although most people were swimming or laughing by the bonfire, you found yourselves off to the side - enjoying the presence of one another as you lounged on sun beds and stared up at the stars.
the air was warm, and the alcohol in your system was keeping your blood running hot. you were still coherent and conscious - not having drank that much. matthew was the same, with flushed cheeks and a dopey smile, but not slurring or tired. you were both just...free and happy.
"hey," he said at your side, your attention drawn away from the night sky and over to him. he was so handsome, even more so with a cheesy smile and dim outside lighting. you swallow thickly and quirk a brow in his direction. matthew continues, "I just thought of something kind of crazy."
you turn you head so you can look at him comfortably, "oh no."
he laughs, "no nothing like, that crazy." suddenly, he springs up, now sitting with his knees facing you. "come here."
your brows shoot up, but you listen, hesitantly following suit and mimicking your best friends position. your knees brush against his much larger ones, the hairs tickling your bare skin - goose bumps rising over your tan legs. then, he slots his thighs between yours, and you get goosebumps for a whole other reason.
matthew leans in close, almost looking as if he was going to kiss you. you don't move an inch, just watching as he gets closer and closer to your parted lips. just when you go to close your eyes, his breath fans against your warm face.
"you know how we talked about uni - and how it's different there. how the hookup scene is wilder and how easy it will be there to loose our virginities?"
oh.
you recover from the thought that you were about to finally be kissed and furrow your brows. "yeah, what about that?"
"I was thinking - and you don't have to say yes or agree, but..." he pauses and analyzes your face quickly. you urge him to continue with a nudge against his thigh. "by the time we are both 18 and if we are still virgins - we should just have sex...together."
you're glad it's dark outside because your face and neck flush beat red. "matty..."
he sighs, and bows his head slightly. "It's crazy, I know. I just thought who better than each other, right? it's stupid, I shouldn't of said anything-"
maybe it was the alcohol or maybe it was because you were hopelessly addicted to making matthew happy but you grab his face between your small palms, urging him to look into your eyes. "it's not stupid." you swallow gently, "and it's definitely not crazy."
matthews tongue darts out to wet his bottom lip and you feel yourself lighten. you let go of his face before you have the urge to pull him in for a kiss.
"I think we should do it."
his eyes brighten ever so slightly, "really?"
you nod, "yeah! I mean if we both turn 18 and it hasn't happened - we should just do it. that way, we will enter our 'adulthood' with a notch on each of our belts."
he smiles ever so slightly, "yeah exactly." then he sticks his thick pinky out towards you, "let's pinky promise this, y/n/n. we won't be 18 year old virgins if all else fails."
and your finger wraps around his, solidifying your agreement.
—
college was fun. you think being away from home was easy because you had matthew with you - and he was all you needed to feel at home. although you both attended parties and made new friends - it didn't happen. you were both still virgins. matthew had an excuse though - he was so busy with hockey. between training, practices and games - he barley had time to see you, never mind some other girl.
and you, well, deep down you knew you weren't seeking anybody out because you couldn't think of anybody better than matthew to take your virginity. you're sure it was just your feelings for him talking, but you didn't care.
on october 17th, matthew turned 18. you and your small group of friends went out to some campus party and at the end of the night, matthew informed you he was still a virgin. although you knew that, it was still a relief to hear. in some twisted fantasy, you can help but hope maybe matthew was purposefully avoiding girls for you.
one month and a few days later, it was the eve of your 18th birthday. it was an odd day, because instead of going out like you did for matthew's 18th birthday, you stayed in with him, watching movies and having chocolate cupcakes- just the two of you. almost like you both knew - both ready to ignite the flames of your drunken agreement many months ago, and give one another your most intimate experience.
it started before midnight even hit - you wonder if matthew was sick of waiting around with his virginity. it was a mess of lips and spit, followed by the tangle of limbs and interlocking fingers on your dorm mattress. you had to ignore how perfect kissing matthew felt - how right it all felt.
slowly, clothes disappeared and kisses travelled - excitement grew. although this was supposed to be a nerve wracking experience- there was no signs of that between either of you. only gentle smiles and longing glances.
and when you were both finally naked, matthew clumsily wrapped up with a condom and you spread to accommodate his body between your legs. he paused the kiss, slowly pulling away to see your face.
matthew smiled, pushing the hairs back and away from your flushed face. he held your cheek tenderly, and you mimick his grin. "let's not let this change anything, okay? because I can't loose you." he whispers, thumb stroking the shell of your hot ear.
you nod, "I can't loose you either." one of your hands slide down his strong shoulder and grip onto his bicep, giving him a reassuring squeeze. "it's just us, matty. nothing will ever change."
and with that, matthew slowly pushed himself into you.
the following morning, you were awoken by the quiet shuffling in your room. slowly, you crack one eye open to see matthew, now dressed and smiling gently at you.
"hey," you mumble.
"morning," he hums, "I was just about to wake you up. I'm going to practice."
"okay," you say groggily, tucking yourself deeper into your pillow and away from the daylight streaming through your small window.
he laughs at your usual sleepy routine, very much used to your morning tiredness and uninterested state. turning, he grabs his phone from were he disregarded it the night prior. "i'll text you later, okay," he says, moving back to your slumped figure - running a hand over your mess of hair.
"m'kay," you mutter into your pillow.
then he leaves.
the door clicks shut, and your eyes shoot open- memories of the night before rushing back into your brain faster than you can comprehend them. you and your best friend had sex - and it wasn't akward or painful or anything remotely close.
it was perfect. soft touches, and sweet glances and everything you had ever wanted when experiencing sex for the first time. girls in highschool had talked about there experience- how awkward it was and uncomfortable they felt. with matthew, it was out of a fairytale.
your momentary wave of panick washes away, and you smile. your hand reaching up to gently trace over your lips, thinking of matthew's soft ones slotting against them only hours before.
this was the best case scenario- and you were living it. truthfully, you were expecting it to be this easy with matthew, solely because it was him.
what you weren't expecting though, was every so often when you were both a little tipsy and needy - you'd find yourselves back in bed, sharing kisses and exchanging orgasms.
but nothing ever changed between you. it was still just you and matthew, continuing to be best friends like you haven't had the most intimate parts of one another. you weren't dating, or acting any different outside of the bedroom. just the occasional longing glance, or brushing hands, or trying your hardest to resist kissing, it was fine...really.
Part One: May 2023
you roll up to the balls of your feet and then fall back to your heels. the attempt to see over the bustling airport crowd was unsuccessful, and you sigh gently.
you knaw on your bottom lip and again try and peer over the sea of heads moving throughout the building, trying to catch a glimpse of your tall friend.
matthew had been living in toronto for a couple months while he made is nhl debut with the toronto maple leafs. although the season ended quicker than anticipated, you were still extremely proud of your friend.
with your exam schedule, you couldn't make any of the games like you had hoped. you would've spent your life savings on a plane ticket and glass seats if it meant seeing matthew play in the major league - but school had other plans for you. although, that didn't stop you from calling him or texting him after every game, both of you talking about every single thing you've missed.
in the second last game of the leafs playoff season, matthew got a concussion - a pretty bad one at that. matthew had been pretty upset, and even looked sniffly on facetime (you gave him shit for being on his phone when he wasn't supposed to, but he didn't care: he just wanted you). once he was cleared to fly back home, he called you immediately to ask if you could pick him up from the airport - obviously, you agreed.
so there you stood, in the middle of the airport as families and business men alike all passed by, distracted as they tried to make flights and get to security. it's almost 30 minutes past the time matthew had told you he'd landed. you try not to worry too much - he'd probably just gotten held up at baggage claim or needed the bathroom before he made his way to you.
just as you pull out your phone to call him, a strong arm wraps around your shoulders from behind, pulling your body into their broad chest.
you don't panick, because you know it's matthew immediately. you can smell the ralph lauren cologne he's been wearing since freshman year, and you recognize the soft material of his t-shirt - the t-shirt you've not only pressed your face into in search of hugs but also have stolen on a few occasions.
"you're not even looking for me, what the hell." matthew says against the shell of your ear. his tone of voice is clearly teasing, trying to get a rise out of you.
you spin in his grasp, your air forces squeaking against the tiled floor of the scottsdale airport. he doesn't release your shoulders, keeping you against his front. automatically, you wrap your arms around his thick waist. "it's not my fault you took an hour to get through the airport - I got bored and gave up."
he scoffs playfully, tugging the end of you ponytail, "rude."
you smirk teasingly, "you're right, that's no way to talk to an nhl superstar."
matthew blushes at your words, and his smile brightens right before your very eyes. the sight of his overwhelming happiness has your stanch swooping, butterflies banging against your sides as they fly about.
"i'm no superstar, y/n/n." he whispers, face tilted downwards so he can keep eye contact.
you shrug against him, "I disagree."
you watch as his tongue passes through his lips, swiping along his bottom lip to wet the already plump and pink skin. in that moment, as matthew stares back at you, you think he may lean in for a kiss and you feel your heart hammer with joy.
instead, you see matthew's other hand jolt up, gripping a bouquet of flowers and waving them ever so gently in your peripheral vision. you look over to the blooming display, brows raised.
"got these for you," he muses.
you smile, "why are you getting me things! you're the one who deserves the good things."
his eyes flicker with something you can't quite understand, and his adam's apple bobs as he swallows. "i've got my good thing right here with me." his words have you freezing ever so slightly, but you don't have time to think of any underlying meaning, because matthew continues, "it's a thank you for coming to pick me up."
you take the flowers, sniffing one of the deep pink tulips, your senses filled with the sweet floral smell you loved so much. "well, then, you're welcome." you tease, dropping the bouquet down from your nose. "that reminds me," you smile, your free hand digging around your jeans back pocket until you locate a chocolate bar. the kitkat is a little mushy from the heat of your body, and the wrapper is a bit crinkled, but you jut it in matthew's direction anyway. "your favourite!"
matthew smiles, taking the chocolate from your hand and inspecting the wrapper. then, he glances back at you with a teasing look. "you know, athletes aren't supposed to eat stuff like this."
"so you don't want it?" you question, a raise to one of your perfectly styled brows.
"oh no, i'm eating it." matthew laughs gently, immediately ripping the red wrapper off the chocolate and taking a messy bite. chocolate smears on his top lip and you laugh.
"you got a little something right there," you whisper gently, finger ghosting over his cupids bow as you gesture to the smeared sweet goodness.
his hand is now wrapped around your waist, holding you to him. matthews brows raise ever so slightly, a grin slowly appearing on his mouth. "yeah?" you nod. "you gunna get it for me?"
you want to kiss him so bad...does he want you to kiss him?
but instead you scrunch your nose playfully, wiping your thumb over his mouth until any traces of smeared chocolate are gone. you don't see the way matthew's eyes change slightly, watching as you use your hands to get rid of the mess.
"ready to go, matty?"
he nods softly, "let's go."
the ride back home is filled with laughter and smiles. matthew is so happy to talk about his experience playing in the nhl - even though you've talked about it before. seeing him speak about the opportunity face to face was something you'd never forget.
you tell him about how emma from your shared history class bombed her final presentation, and that had matthew laughing as you explained the whole thing animatedly. you talk about plans for the summer and finally seeing your friends from highschool after a year away in minnesota.
a kelsea ballerini song slowly fades as you pull up against the curb of matthew's childhood home. a home that you spent your entire highschool life in - studying and laughing and watching movies and just enjoying each others presence. the thought of all those memories have you grinning as you park the car - unlocking the doors once you've stopped.
matthew unbuckles his seat belt. he doesn't hear you move, or the click of your seat belt buckle and looks over at you, a small v shape forming between his drawn brows. "are you not coming in?"
"I don't want to interrupt, matty. they haven't seen you in a little bit."
he shakes his head, "my mom already asked for you to join - and I told her you'd come in, so..."
you sigh and he watches you give him a knowing look - one that isn't buying his bullshit: he knows it all too well. matthew sends a sheepish smile your way and briefly shrugs his shoulders. "at least help me with my bags. what kind of friend would you be if you didn't help me with them," he teases.
the kind of friend you kiss and hold and fuck, you think.
regardless, you unbuckle your seatbelt with a faux annoyed look. matthew's smile grows into one of successes, and you purposefully avoid his now cheeky expression. "yeah, yeah, let's go."
matthew lied about his mom inviting you over - which you knew he did (because you can read your best friend like a book), but she was excited to see you regardless. as soon as his mom jumped in suprise and expressed her joy at your presence- you sent matthew a deathly glare for his lie. he could only smirk playfully in response to your obvious annoyed reaction.
in her typical fashion, matthew's mom coddled both of you and fed you dinner just like she used to do when the two of you were still kids in highschool.
unlike you, matthew's parents made it to a couple of his nhl games. even though they've seen him since he left for minnesota, they haven't talked about school since christmas - when they were down in toronto, the topic of conversation was obviously matthew's nhl debut.
so you weren't suprised when his mom, between chews of her cheesy pasta, started peppering her son with all sorts of questions.
"did you make friends with anyone new since we last talked?"
"how was your roommate and the dishes situation?"
"did you ever figure out your biology assignment? or was it chemistry?"
"any girlfriends while you were in toronto?"
"mum," matthew laughs awkwardly, his fork hitting the plate with a clinck, "your foods going to get cold if you keep asking all these questions."
his brother snickers into his pepsi filled glass. you and him share a brief look once their mum kicks matthew under the table because of his remark - regardless, she was laughing along with the table. "you're right, i'm sorry - just curious."
matthew doesn't answer the last question, which has you feeling nervous. you watch as he drags his bread through a section of sauce, soaking the garlic flavoured dough. he meets your curious eyes - deep in thought - as he takes a bite. you smile politely in his direction, eyes darting away. if he sees your worried expression, he doesn't say anything, looking away once you do.
you shove some pasta in your mouth and try not to overthink - which was always impossible when it came to your brain and matthew.
"what about you, y/n?" his dad asks from the head of the table, dropping his piece of garlic toast on the side of his ceramic plate. "any boyfriend?"
you choke slightly on a spaghetti noodle, taking a few gulps of water to calm your coughing and burning face. "sorry. no," you hum once you've collected yourself, "nothing like that."
in your peripheral vision, you see matthew turn to look at you again. you glance at him quickly, and he gives you a knowing look, shoving a large bite of food into his mouth in an attempt to cover his smirk.
you dart your gaze away quickly - your face burning for an entirely different reason.
"really?!" his mum muses, oblivious to the glances exchanged between you and her son, "I gotta say you two, all these years away at school and neither of you in relationships - I'd say you spend too much time together."
you blush, clearing your throat. your eyes meet your plate of food as you begin to slide your fork through the last bites of sauce and meat.
"that's definitely it," matthew hums, not meeting your eyes in favour of finishing off his plate. underneath the table, his knee bumps yours once, and you're not sure if he meant to do it, but you fight a smile regardless - gently bumping his back.
only an hour after finishing dinner and cleaning up the mess of pots and plates - matthew was begging you to come to the beach with him for sunset before heading back home. you let him him beg and convince you, even though you were set on going as soon as the words left his mouth.
the sand is warm on your feet as you dig them into the granules - sand dusting up to your ankles and coating your braided anklet. the sunset is reflecting on your face, providing a warm glow not only on you, but on the entire beach. you close your eyes and take a long inhale, basking in the feeling.
matthew drops down beside you, his added weight pulling on the blanket you'd set down. he leans back on to his hands and stretches his legs out - his feet sliding through the sand and sending tiny particles onto the blanket.
you huff, immediately trying to dust it all off. it makes your best friend laugh quietly beside you.
"I missed you," matthew whispers a few minutes after you cleared the blanket. "so much."
you look over at him, meeting his blue gaze. he looks so beautiful with the hues of orange and fuscha reflecting around him. clean shaven, and t-shirt stretching around his muscles ever so nicely. "i missed you," you say back.
matthew's forearm brushes against yours and his palm is so close to yours in the sand that if you just reached out, you'd be able to wrap your pinky over his. you're unsure if he means to brush your limbs together, and you think about pulling away, but then his muscles flex against you, and you feel him press his arm against yours firmly - conforming he wants you there.
that action has you thinking back a few hours ago at the dinner table - matthew's knee touching yours under the table privately. but thinking about that part of the dinner, also has you thinking about how matthew never gave an answer about having a girlfriend while he was away.
even thinking about that has your stomach dropping like you'd just dropped on a roller coaster. before you can stop yourself, you get his attention gently, "matty?"
he hums, his eyes trained on the setting sun across the water.
"is there a girl in toronto?"
you're pretty sure his arm goes rigid on yours. you've dropped on the roller coaster again, feeling your organs fall all the way to your feet. matthew sighs gently, "y/n.."
when you and matthew started casually hooking up, you both decided to not only stay best friends, but you also chose to not be exclusive. the point of loosing your virginities to one another was to get over that awkward milestone with a future partner. therefore, once you were both free of that title, you could go out into the dating scene and feel free - and have sex with whoever.
so of course there was a chance matthew was hooking up with somebody in toronto - you'd be happy if he did, truly. as his best friend, you want him to be happy. as his unrequited lover, you couldn't bare the thought. because although matthew may be not be exclusive, you have always been (unbeknownst to him).
without wanting to sound bothered or upset, you laugh breathlessly. "it doesn't matter if you do, matty. we're friends, right? no secrets ever." - a promise you and him had always cherished was never ever having secrets - excluding your painfully excruciating crush on him (obviously).
"no, I know," matthew nods with an expression you can't quite decipher. it's something between soft and maybe guilty - possibly innocent or nothing even close. he sighs again, "there's no girl...and no secrets."
you suck your bottom lip into your mouth, suppressing the grin as it slowly made its way onto your face.
"well," matthew says lightheartedly. he pushes off his hands, dusting the sand off his palms once he sits up. his back muscles have you too distracted to notice all the sand covering your blanket. once positioned, matthew looks back at you over his shoulder, "there is one girl."
if it wasn't for his playful tone and the smirk he was sending in your direction, you'd think he was being serious. you push off your hands as well and wrap them around his bulged bicep. "oh yeah? who's that?" you ask gently, leaning into his warm body.
"you," he whispers, hooked nose brushing against yours delicately - if you didn't know this was the way you and matthew acted, you'd be tricked into thinking he had feelings for you.
you scrunch your nose against his, pulling back just enough to meet his eyes. "you just want to get laid."
matthew's lips look like they may turn into a downwards pull, and you already feel the panick bubbling at your chest - what had you said wrong?
but he clears his throat, mouth turning into a soft smirk. "maybe..."
you force another laugh, "good," you lie, "me too."
and in your and matthew's lonesome on the sandy beach, he slowly leans back into your space, finally pressing a kiss against your lips.
your grip on his arm tightens when his tongue slips between your parted lips, allowing him access to deepn the kiss - tongues massaging one another as they skillfully move.
when matthew pulls away a few minutes later, he's breathing heavily, an all too familiar haze in his eyes and smile on his swollen pink lips. "let's get in your car."
you nod, "m'kay."
the last bit of the evening sun is falling on you both and illuminating the water. matthew's helps you up, grabbing the blanket and making sure to dust all the sand off before throwing it in your backseat.
when he pulls you against his chest in the privacy of your car and continues your hot kiss, you think you just so happen to be falling deeper in love with your best friend.
Part Two:
the alchemy was the towns best hangout spot. not only was there a bar and dance floor, but they had amazing food and an even better atmosphere. at the end of every week, they'd often have local bands come in to play their set - friday was always the night to go.
this friday was no exception. there was a lineup outside the building, and every few minutes it would get shorter as the bouncers checked ID's and sent people in. you, as well as some other friends in your group, weren't of age yet, so you were already preparing for the purple X they'd draw on your hand to stain your skin and indicate your age.
your good friend janie is fixing her lip gloss in her small compact mirror as she faces you. janie was somebody who valued her appearance very much - but she was so beautiful, she barley had to do anything to maintain it. you watch as her boyfriend, daniel, talks her ear off about something he had seen at the mall earlier, face animated as he flails his hands.
the line moves again and behind you, matthew pushes you along gently - presses into your backside with his hips as you inch forward. he's not even looking at you when he does it, too busy conversing with another friend of yours, logan.
matthew's hand is warm on your exposed hip, his thumb gently resting against the waist band of your jean shorts - slowly stroking the edge, thumb occasionally dipping under the material. you sigh pleasantly, head falling back to rest against his peck.
a moment later, matthew looks down at you, a smile making its way onto his face. you notice logan has turned his attention to another person in your small group of friends - leaving all your friends distracted.
you loved and appreciated your small group of friends from high school, and always cherished your time together as well as your closeness. but there is one thing you and matthew never disclosed: your complicated relationship. at the beginning, you weren't sure there was a term for you and matthew's situation, but now you know it's friends with benefits. you'd never even admitted that to yourself, never mind telling all your friends. in fantasy land, matthew was your boyfriend and he loved you back - he pulls you in for kisses in front of his family and your friends, and he tells his family he has a girl: you.
"what's going on with you?" matthew's whispered words have you pulled from your own thoughts, his hips still against you - shuffling you further up line. "you look deep in thought - that's never good." he teases.
you scoff, smacking his chest with the back of your hand playfully. your actions have matthew laughing deeply, chest rumbling against your shoulders - which makes you smile. "not much," you hum.
discreetly, you check and make sure nobody is in earshot and eavesdropping on you and your best friend - you notice they're distracted. you lean your head up so you can be closer to his ear and whisper, "just that you look kinda hot in that hat."
matthew is wearing a western style cowboy hat atop his head, paired with jeans and a white tshirt. it's rodeo theme at the alchemy tonight, and matthew isn't the only one dressed for the occasion. your friend group and everyone else in line are dressed in their best western style. hats and boots are everywhere in sight, along with cow prints and pleather tassels.
"goes it make me look like a cowboy?" he questions with a suggestive raise to his eyebrows - a smirk tugging at his mouth.
you giggle slightly and nod once with conformation. "yes."
"good," he hums, "you gunna ride me?" his eyes dart down to your shirt, which so happens to say 'save a horse and ride a cowboy.' you bought it specifically for the occasion, obviously - paired with your favourite denim shorts and cowgirl boots. definitely not the most creative or unique outfit - but still on theme.
you blush, "depends...you gunna let me try that on?" with your question, you spin around to face matthew, reaching up to try and grab his hat from his head. matthew grabs your hand before you can reach the brim, halting your movement.
you pout, "matty..."
matthew huffs likes he's annoyed, but the very edges of his plump lips begin to tug upwards. without another word, he grabs the hat from the top, plopping it down on your head so that it covers your eyes, your straight hair falling over your face.
you laugh, pulling the hat off so you can attempt to adjust your hair back into place. matthew beats you to it, his warm hands pushing away all the strands from your vision with a fond gleam in his eyes. he doesn't pull away once he's done moving your hair and his hands slide down to hold the side of your face for a moment longer.
you wish that he'd kiss you then. but he doesn't, and you feel your face wanting to drop with disappointment.
trying to hide the sadness you feel, you put matthew's cowboy hat back on your head; properly this time so that no hair gets in the way.
your group makes it to the entrance of the alchemy, and country music is flowing through the open doors. the two bouncers check over all your id's and mark the appropriate people who are underage - matthew and you included.
once you enter, you immediately notice how the crowd was bustling - loud laughter, music and the tangy smell of beer throughout.
"yo, let's get that table!" daniel shouts over the noise of the crowd, pointing in the direction of an area near the back of the alchemy that seemed unoccupied.
while you walk through the busy place, matthew grabs ahold of your hand softly, guiding you behind him as you all make your way to the table. the feeling of his hand on yours in such a public setting feels overwhelming in the best way, and there's a part of you that hopes any girl who'd seen him walk in - now thinks he's in a relationship and any advances they'd thought of making are halted.
you and your friends order a round of drinks as soon as you sit down, and you send your friend april, as well as logan, up to the bar to collect everyone's desired beverages.
although you couldn't order the drinks, that didn't mean you couldn't sneak some. one or two vodka sodas combined with the shots you pregamed would have you feeling drunk in no time.
and that was true, because an hour later, you and janie were both very buzzed in the middle of the crowded dance floor - dancing to some megan moroney cover song.
"so," janie starts with a suggestive smirk, "you and matthew looked pretty cozy earlier."
"what?" you squeak, "no, we're just -I don't know janie, you know how we are."
she eyes you suspiciously, "you two have so much sexual tension recently. you guys should like...fuck or something."
your eyes widen and you blush, slightly choking on your own attempt to cough. "absolutely not," you squeak, "I mean - that would just...ruin things."
she laughs slightly and shrugs her exposed tan shoulders in your direction, "just a suggestion. I mean, he probably wants to do it anyways."
you knaw on your lip, forehead lines deepening as you take in your friends words. "why do you think that?" a momentary swirl of panic overtakes you, and you're worried yourself and matthew were being too obvious.
"y/n," she laughs, her hips swaying to the country tune lightly, "guys don't act like that for no reason! I mean, the way he looks at you..."
you swallow quickly. briefly, your eyes meet your shoes and you resist the urge to sigh sadly. "we're just best friends, jaine, believe me."
you wish you were more, your drunk brain reminds you.
you look away from the floor to find janie, but she's isn't looking at you, but rather her eyes are trained over your shoulder. then, she smirks slightly at you, "looks like he's coming over here."
just like a 6th grade girl with a crush, you freeze. blushing all the way down to your chest and eyes widening. trying to remain nonchalant, you shrug and take a sip of your drink.
"i'm gunna go." your brunette friend says, "before you two get all...sensual." janie sends you one last teasing look over her shoulder as she walks away - leaving you waiting anxiously for matthew's touch.
a moment later, you feel matthew press against you, wrapping his arms around your shoulders in a brief hug - merely missing your drink as he does so. immediately with his touch, all earlier anxious and physical jitters vanish and you relax into matthew's familiar grip.
"missed you over there," he mutters into your ear. "our table was boring without you." matthew's nose nudges against the shell of your ear and then he leans farther down your body - pressing a hot kiss right between the skin of your shoulder and the base of your neck.
you swoon. his touch combined with the warm breath tickling against your skin, as well as the feeling of his lips pressing against you, causes something similar to a moan to leave your lips quietly.
the alcohol in your system has completely stolen your filter, and you can only pray that your friends can't see the way matthew had just approached you - or how you reacted to his touch.
at your breathy exhale, matthew spins your body around so that you are standing pressed chest to chest. he smirks when he catches sight of your happy flushed face and drunken hazy eyes. "you look so hot dancing." he says lowly.
you reach up and delicately brush a fallen eyelash off his cheek. "is that so?" you question, purposely pressing your boobs harder into his chest.
"definitely so," he agrees.
behind you, the band starts a new song, something with less tempo that your buzzed brain doesn't recognize immediately.
it looks like matthew does recognize the tune though, and he sends you a smirk. "dance with me?" he questions cheekily, reaching down to grab his cowboy hat you were still wearing, placing it back on his own head.
you don't care enough to protest, partially because he looks too good in it for you to complain. you raise your cup in his direction, "i've got this still."
just as you finish your scentence, matthew grabs your drink, raising it to his mouth and chugging the last of its contents. you gawk, watching as he wipes his mouth and places your now empty cup on a nearby table.
one of matthew's hands grab ahold of your waist, while the other takes your hand in his own - interlocking your fingers together. "now you can dance," he teases, swaying you both to the song.
"I hate you," you huff. your words have no real bite as you begin to smile.
"you can't hate me," matthew says matter of factly, "i'm your best friend."
you frown ever so slightly, jutting your chin up, "just your best friend?" you're buzz has you clearly teetering on drunk, and matthew can tell - not only from your question but your blissed expression.
he chooses not to answer your question but you don't seem to mind, too busy swaying to the song you loved so much.
"stand by me," you sing to him, "ooooh stand by me."
matthew laughs fondly, and you beam up at him. "you're a natural," he states teasingly.
"you sing the next part with me," you insist.
"it's not a duet."
"it is now," you state, "c'mon - just as long you stand, stand by me."
matthew joins in, "and darling, darling stand by me!" his tone is pitchy and he's singing loud enough to earn interested stares from the people in your vicinity.
it has you faltering, laughing into his warm chest. matthew stops singing as well, watching amused as you lean into him with nothing but happiness on your face. he releases your hand in favour to wrap that hand around your shoulders, keeping you pressed against him.
you wake with a deep groan, squinting at the harsh light on your face that was streaming through open curtains. with another groan, you pull the blanket up and over your face to hide yourself from your own hangover.
the smell of matthew's cologne and laundry detergent has you pausing, cracking open one eye to see the familiar navy sheets on matthew's childhood bed.
you toss the blanket away from your face, and turn to see him watching you gently from the other side of the bed - an ever knowing grin on his face at your hungover morning behaviour.
"shut up," you grumble, pushing up from your flat position to mimic him, sitting with your back flat against the headboard.
"didn't say anything," matthew muses.
"but you thought it," you huff. his laughter is enough for you to know your accusation was true, and you squint annoyed at him.
"I brought you this," he hands you a bottle of water and two aspirins, which you take immediately, sighing in relief at the water falling down your dry throat.
slowly, the night before comes back to you. memories of cowgirl boots, your friends downing drinks and dancing all night flooding your brain. your groan once more, covering your face briefly when a wave of nausea comes over you. "ugh, I never want to here stand by me again."
matthew laughs loudly, body rolling over until he's pressed into your side.
you laugh gently with him, dropping your hands from your face so you can see. "seriously!"
"anytime I hear that song now i'm going to think of you," matthew insists. subconsciously, one of matthew's fingers trial over your forearm, gently tickling your skin as he looks up at you from his now slouched position.
although the thought of the song is currently making you feel sick, matthew's words have you feeling fuzzy - there was worse songs that could remind him of you, and stand by me was a really sweet one to he associated with.
because you don't say anything, matthew starts to sing, "stand by me, ohhhh!"
you shush him with a laugh, placing your hand over his mouth.
Part Three (A):
"5...4...3...2...1....and you're done," daniel cheers as you all watch jaine drop back down to her feet from her previous hand stand.
she smiles victorious, giving a bow in your direction. she stumbles slightly, the combination between her various drinks and uneven grassy ground throwing her off balance. she is still just as happy for completing her dare despite her shaky balance, skipping back towards the bonfire you all sat around and taking her seat between you and her boyfriend.
"I did the 20 second hand stand - those 3 years of gymnastics really payed off," she chimes, "take a sip, logan."
logan, the one who gave her the dare, tongues his cheek before he takes a large gulp of his seltzer. it goes down easily, and you watch his face in the glow from the bonfire - some of the liquid falling from the corner of his mouth, dripping until he wipes it away. "alright, janie, we don't have all day."
she doesn't answer to his teasing, eyes searching your small group of friends to find the next recipient of her question. "april," she starts, "truth or dare?"
april, another one of your highschool friends, laughs lightly, uncrossing her tan legs as she ponders. "truth," she settles on.
"when was the last time you had a dirty dream?" janie giggles like she already had the question locked and loaded in her brain - either that or she knows something about april that the rest of you don't. the thought has you giggling into your chest.
the guys in your group all tease her, a low chorus of 'ouuuu' echoing in logan's backyard.
she blushes at the question. "god, I can't answer that! I don't even think i've ever had one!" april squawks, covering her burning cheeks with her hands.
"you gotta finish your drink if you don't answer," dylan, another member of your circle of friends reminders her.
without another word, april chugs her entire can, finishing off the fruity drink in mere seconds. you all cheer her on as she finishes, trying to collect her breathing.
classic party games have always been a staple when your friends all got together. whether it was back when you were all still in highschool - akward and acne prone, or times like right now - when you were all home for the summer - you all played them. truth or dare was a common one, offering the best combination of fun activity and talking. plus, it was easy to incorporate a few drinks - which always spiced things up.
"y/n," april's sweet voice calls your attention, "truth or dare?" she asks, a mischievous grin beginning to tug at her lined lips.
on instinct, you want to say truth. truth is usually easier and sometimes less embarrassing than the dares that go around this group; you think back to highschool when logan had to streak through the neighborhood or when janie had to post an akward singing video for her followers to see. but with truths, secrets can go hand in hand - and you had a big secret - one that you aren't sure you can hide too much longer.
across from you, matthew meets your gaze. he's watching you with a teasing glimmer in his eyes, mouth hid behind his canned drink as he takes a nonchalant sip.
"dare," you decide, eyes darting back to april.
her smile widens, and if she wasn't so pretty you'd think she looked rather evil. you wouldn't be suprised if her hands came together wickedly and she begins to cackle. "I dare you...." april pauses dramatically, grin growing "...to kiss logan."
oh my god.
"what?" you ask, brows raised in a mixture of suprise and shock.
"c'mon!" daniel cheers, reaching over his girlfriend's body to push against your shoulder playfully.
"pucker up those lips," dylan teases.
you laugh awkwardly, tucking some of your hair away.
daniel interrupts, "-and no drinking out of dares!"
you'd honestly forgotten about that rule - one that you had made up a few years back when too many people were opting out of dares and the game had just become a chug fest.
you meet matthew's eyes again, expect this time he is looking at you with a weary expression. fair enough, you think, because why would he want his fuck buddy to make out with his friend right in front of him.
"if she really doesn't want to we shouldn't make her," he says firmly.
you heart flutters in your chest at the thought of matthew possibly feeling jealous, but then you remember what you and him are, and you deflate once more. he wasn't jealous, more likely feeling uncomfortable.
"rules are rules," janie sing songs, bumping into your side teasingly.
you don't want to draw to much attention or conger any questions from matthew's words being tied to your hesitation, so you stand up, walking confidently to the blonde boy across from you.
logan laughs, letting you invade his space.
"hands to yourself," you tell him, trying your best to sound playful and not worried or nervous.
"same goes for you," he quips back.
you ignore him, gently grabbing onto his shoulder as you lean down to meet his seated height, pressing your lips onto his. they slot together, and he gently sucks along your bottom lip.
logan's kiss is nowhere near as nice as any of the ones matthew has given you. his lips weren't as soft as matthew's, or as gentle. logan's only held notes of lust and eagerness - matthew's always took their time and moved skillfully.
then, logan grabs your face between both your hands, stopping your kiss so he can lick up the side of your cheek sloppily.
your friends laugh, and you push away with a smile, wiping away any silva with the back of your hand. "you're foul," you breath with quick laugh.
"gotta keep it interesting," logan teases, shifting in his seat so he can reach for another can of beer.
"I have to go clean my face," you say loudly, "i'll be in the bathroom." you make your way to the patio door, entering the quiet house, your friends laughter and continuation of the game slowly quieting as you slide the door closed behind you.
you flick on the bright bathroom light before shutting the door, leaving you alone in the small powder room near the front of the home. you quickly clean your face with a baby wipe, then washing off any residue with some soap and water.
thankfully in the summer months, you didn't wear much makeup, meaning you weren't really altering your appearance but rubbing suds into your face and rinsing with water.
you turn to leave, but out of something that feels like guilt, you walk back to the sink and scrub at your lips, essentially wiping off the traces of the kiss with your longtime friend.
for matthew, your brain reminds you with a tease.
you shake your head and blink away the thought, turning back to the door and pulling it open.
matthew stands there, hand reached out like he was about to open the bathroom door just before you. you meet his eyes gently, and he looks down at you with a darkened gaze, slightly breathless as he stand in front of you.
then, he backs you both into the powder room, shutting the door again so you're both standing in the small space. matthew strides towards you, grabbing onto your face and tilting your head back into the perfect position for him to press his lips against as yours.
you moan immediately, hands grabbing onto his waist over his shirt. you both smell like bonfire mixed with your respective alcoholic beverages, but it isn't off putting: only familiar - comfortable.
matthew nips at your bottom lip, and you gasp gently, which gives him the perfect opportunity to slide his tongue against yours. the feeling has you panting into his mouth, fingers gripping his shirt tighter.
he pulls back only briefly, "how long before they come looking?" his lips brush against yours as he asks, and you can barley focus on his question at the feeling.
"couple more minutes," you pant.
he doesn't say anything else in favour of pushing his mouth back into yours. it's sloppy, like he's racing against time -desperately trying to get as much of you as humanly possible.
matthew turns your body until you're pushed against the bathroom sink. the ceramic digs into your lower back, but you don't care enough to change that. you're too focused on the way matthew pushes his thick thigh between your legs, simultaneously moving your thighs apart as well as providing his leg as another form of stimulation.
he grunts against your lips as you rock against him, and one of his hands leaves you face and drops towards your lower back - slipping between you and the hard sink. he pulls you closer by your back, dragging your core farther up his thigh.
"we need to stop," matthew breaths, "because soon i'll have no choice but to fuck you on our friends sink."
you gulp, "is that so bad?"
"no," he licks his lip, "but they'll definitely catch us."
with that, you agree, and you both untangle yourselves from one another. you turn away to adjust your frazzled hair in the small mirror above the bathroom counter. unfortunately, you can't do much about your glossy eyes and flushed face, but both can be disguised as you just drinking too much.
you feel matthew press himself behind you, his bulge resting against your ass and you look away from your appearance to meet his eyes through the mirror. he's looking at you with an odd look, so you raise one of your brows in question. "you okay?"
he blinks three times, taking a deep breath. "yeah, just...lost in my thoughts for a moment there."
you frown, worries of only minutes ago of you kissing logan filling your head - he's come in here to claim his territory and assert dominance because you'd kissed logan. "are you mad at me?" you question gently, eyes still trained on his through the mirror.
matthew's brows pull together, and he grabs onto your hips, spinning you around to face him once more. "why would I be mad at you?"
you shrug sheepishly, and you hold onto your own arms apprehensively. "maybe because I kissed logan? right in front you. and I know that we are just fucking or whatever...but, you're mad because you feel, I don't know, disrespected."
immediately after you finish, matthew shakes his head. he pushes away any baby hairs around your face, keeping his hand resting on the side of your head. "absolutely not." you see something flash in his eyes before he continues, "i think i'm just jealous - actually I know that i'm jealous."
"jealous?" you whisper.
he nods again, "jealous because logan got to kiss you before I did tonight."
"oh," you fight back a smirk, and you drop you arms in favour of wrapping them around matthew's torso - he lets you pull him closer wordlessly. "if it's any constellation, out of the two kisses i've had tonight, yours is the only one I enjoyed."
he smirks, "I bet the licking had something to do with that."
you laugh, "something."
he pretends to ponder, "maybe I should up my tongue game some more."
you giggle loudly, and the sound has matthew breaking character to smile fondly down at you. then he interrupts your giggle with one more kiss.
in that moment, it feels like a relationship rather than just friendship with perks. the way matthew holds onto you, and smiles down at you - the way you smile back. merely moments ago you were ready to have sex in somebody else's house, purely because you couldn't help yourself - too in love and drunk to not. that intense, hot moment now turned soft and sweet, while matthew say's things that he knows will make you laugh. in that moment, you let yourself pretend.
you let yourself pretend matthew wasn't only jealous because his friend got the kiss question before him - he was jealous because the girl he loved had to kiss someone else.
how you long for that to be true.
nobody is suspicious when you and matthew make your way back outside and take your respective seats. nobody questions either of you - too busy watching daniel give dylan a lap dance.
over the flames of the fire, matthew catches your gaze. he tongues his cheek to try and hide the smirk he couldn't help.
Part Three (B): junior year of highschool
you often worried when it came to your best friend. not necessarily about him physically, but rather about what what he thinks and knows. not to say you didn't care about what physically happened to him, but the thought of him finding out your deepest hidden feelings for him was more worrying than a bruise or a headache - or so you thought.
when matthew texted you late at night that something had happened to him, you didn't hesitate to hop in your car and make the drive over to his families home.
you knew the code to his front door and let yourself in quietly - mindful of 11 p.m. approaching.
you toed off your slippers on the christmas themed door mat before making your way further into the gingerbread scented home. the sound of friends and the glow of the tv alerted you to somebody up in the family room, and you slowed in your steps as you approached.
phil, matthew's brother, looks in your direction. he doesn't seem suprised by your presence, so you think matthew must've mentioned that you'd be coming over. phil nods once over his shoulder before turning his attention back to the show. "he's upstairs."
"thanks," you say gently, making your way up the carpeted stairs to the second floor, and all the way to matthew's bedroom door.
you don't bother knocking, because you and him never did, and push open his wooden door. the room is only illuminated by his bedside lamp, casting a warm glow on his cream coloured walls and mousey brown furniture.
you catch matthew's eyes and a frown tugs at your lips. he looks tired, presumably from his hockey game earlier in the evening.
"hey," he says quietly. he pushes up from his slouched position and gets off his bed, making his way over to you.
you walk into the room and shut the door softly behind you. "hey," you say, "what's wrong?"
you catch a glimpse of matthew's frown and teary eyes before he wraps his arms around you - pulling your body into his chest for a tight embrace. instantly, you reciprocate the hug, your smaller arms wrapping around his upper back, rubbing soothingly along the ripples of muscles under his skin.
he takes a shaky deep inhale against you, and the feeling has your frown deepening. seeing your best friend so upset was gut wrenching enough, never mind when you also have an embarrassingly large crush on him. "please, talk to me, matty. what's going on?"
he takes one more big breath before he releases you. "i've had a shitty day. school dragged on and then mr. johnson failed me on that assignment from last week. then, during my game I took a weird hit and totally fucked my shoulder! not only that but after the hit I made a shit play and got benched. i'm just...tired." he finishes, his shoulders deflating.
you listen with a slight pout, your eyes intensely dancing over his flushed cheeks and deep coloured bags sitting below his eyes. "i'm sorry about your shitty day." you say.
"not your fault," matthew shrugs.
"what do you want me to do for you?" you ask gently. you think about reaching out again, maybe to run your hand over his arm reassuringly - or caress his face as you tried to ease him into a less overwhelmed state, but you decide against it.
"I just want you to be with me," he admits quietly, "can we just watch a movie or something?"
you nod instantly. you do touch him this time, but he is the one who initiates the contact - grabbing on to your hand gently to guide you over to his unmade bed. you're thankful it's not too light in his bedroom, because you blush at the feeling of his hand in yours.
matthew pulls back the already flailed blanket, allowing you to climb into the mess of bedding and get comfortable before he makes his entrance.
he sits back against his headboard as he scrolls through options on netflix. wordlessly, he chooses 13 going on 30, which you think is a bit odd - but you've always loved the jennifer garner rom-com, so you weren't complaining.
the start of the film begins to play quietly and matthew sinks down into the pillows. he rolls towards you and pushes himself into the side of your torso.
you instantly feel hot. you thank your past self for choosing sleep shorts to go with your long sleeve top, because you would've died from overheating if you choose sweatpants. he throws his arm across your belly, hand reaching up to rest against your rib cage - you hope he can't feel your heart beating too hard. matthew pushes his knee under your leg, effectively sliding between you and the mattress - your leg now resting on top his.
you stay still, too worried that if you move or speak you'll wake up from a dream - a dream in which that this was a normal activity for somebody and their best friend to do. it's not that you and matthew were never touchy, as he would often find your hand in large crowds so he didn't loose you, or hug you in greetings and partings - but very rarely did you cuddle.
"can you tickle my arm?" he mumbles into your shirt, "your nails feel nice."
his request has your spiraling thoughts coming to a halt. his gentle tone and sweet question immediately has you smiling, your body relaxing into his - "of course," you mumble, raising your hand until your nails can run gently over his arm.
matthew sighs happily, tiny goosebumps prickling on his skin. you smile bigger at the sight just as matthew tucks his head further up your body, the top resting against your collarbone. you let your head fall against his, your eyes trained on the movie.
it's obvious why matthew picked one of your preferred movies as you feel his breathing slow down - looking to see his eyes closed shut and his lips parted to release soft breaths.
matthew just needed his best friend.
although you wish you were his girlfriend coming to his aid - you're just happy matthew feels close enough to you in the relationship you do have.
in his sleep, matthew moans briefly, adjusting his hand so it scoops under your back to cradle you against his body. between his peaceful expression and the warmth of his body laying on yours - you know in that moment it isn't just a crush on you're best friend: you're falling in love with him.
Part Four (A): july 4th weekend
"I hate this," you huff, standing up straight and tossing your hands on your hips.
janie laughs from somewhere on the campsite at your words, but you don't feel like laughing along. you're sweating because of the sweltering arizona heat and you're frustrated from the task at hand.
your tent is only half up, and putting that side up was a challenge. you hear somebody approach you from behind, and you turn to look over your shoulder to see matthew. he drops one of the cooler's at the picnic bench beside your deflated tent and he laughs gently.
you squint at him, "it's not funny. i'm going to have to sleep outside because my tent won't be built."
he tuts his tongue at you, taking one of the long metal rods sticking out of the pile. "you're so dramatic." immediately, he begins to expertly thread the pole through the tents openings. the heat has you feeling flustered, and watching matthew's long fingers navigate the metal wasn't helping...at all.
you scoff, "you love my dramatics, matty, don't pretend it bothers you now."
he doesn't look away from your tent, but he smiles anyways. "yeah yeah, can you grab me another pole? and start bringing the pins over as well - since you're just standing there."
you scrunch your nose up and drop your hands from your hips. "i'll grab you a pole alright."
your grumble has him laughing as you turn on your heels and walk away, gathering the rest of the parts to bring them closer to your tent - which now is beginning to look more functional.
you place them where matthew is working, dropping down to a squat beside his crouched position. he sends you a playful look out of the corner of his eye, "now you want to work?"
you shrug, threading a different pole through the polyester loops. "what kind of friend would I be if I made you do all the work on my tent?"
logan passes with an armful of firewood. he drops the pile of logs into the designated fire pit, already preparing for the night before noon has even hit.
for this fourth of july weekend, you had all decided you wanted to do some sort of camping trip. old fashioned camping - completed with tents and smores and picnic benches. thankfully, there were a couple high rated camp sites around the scottsdale area that had vacancy, and you all had packed two of your cars full for a weekend vacation.
"kniesy, you dick, you're supposed to be putting up our tent - never mind y/n's," logan teases as he passes again, gently nudging his foot against your strained calf - which makes you sway, loosing some of your balance.
"go like set up the grill or something," you tell the blond after you flip him the bird, "before I decide to kill you and throw your body in the lake."
"gruesome," logan says. he does what you suggested though, and you catch a glimpse of him unloading the portable barbecue before you turn back to the tent.
"okay," matthew says, pushing off his knees and into a standing position. "you stay on this side while I pull on the support strings and start to hammer them in- I just need you to keep it straight."
"aye aye captain," you salute, pushing yourself to stand just as he did moments prior.
he chuckles under his breath, moving around to the first side of the tent he needed to secure into the ground.
you watch him work with a soft gaze. the way he kneels in the dirt to ensure he's got the tent pulled in a way it won't collapse - watch as his tongue darts out as he concentrates on nailing in the pins. you're sure there's a look on your face that would warrant questions if somebody caught you - but you don't care.
"is it straight?" matthew asks, eyes glancing up in your direction. he catches you admiring him and you clear your throat, looking away with a few quick blinks.
"yeah! all good," you tell him. matthew just smirks at you before finishing building your tent.
a while later, while the afternoon sun is still beating down on your bare shoulders, april suggests you all head to the water for a quick swim. obviously you agree, quickly changing into your bathing suit.
you're all almost near the mini beach, saved for daniel who opted to stay back and watch over the campsite, when matthew falls into line with you - his bare arm brushing against yours as you walk side by side. his pinky runs along yours discreetly, his much larger finger almost hooking yours.
the sun reflected off his tan and toned body, the light accenting the ripples of his strong muscles: abs, biceps, triceps and everything in between.
"i'll race you," matthew says, breaking the quiet tension that had built between you as you both reach the sandy beach.
you look up at him to find a challenging grin on his face - a teasing sparkle in his bright eyes.
"matty," you start, "we aren't kids - besides, it's busy! all these people we'd have to avoid...." you trail off, gesturing to the crowded beach. "...it's a shame they will all have to watch you loose."
you take off, dropping your tote bag as you make a mad dash towards the water.
you hear matthew laugh loudly behind you, surely already beginning to run in your direction. you weave between the bodies throughout the sand, muttering apologies as you approach the water.
you laugh as you miraculously make it into the warm water, just beating matthew in your foot race because of your (cheating) head start. you slow as you go deeper into the lake, turning your body back around just to watch matthew splash into the lake, his body slowly disappearing under the surface as he follows your trail.
on the shore you see your friends laughing in their own world, setting out towels and the umbrella and their few trinkets - janie with her book and april with her phone. briefly, you wonder if one of them had grabbed your bag from where you abandoned it.
the water ripples against you skin as matthew reaches you, his smile an instant distraction from your tote that you suddenly couldn't care less about in his presence. "you tricked me." he states, hands running through the water, sending more sploshes up your tummy.
you shrug innocently, "did I? or are you just slow..."
he splashes some water at you, wetting your bikini top and shoulders. matthew laughs loudly as you screech from the sudden cold temperature, trying to turn your back on his attack.
"I let you win," matthew says after he splashes you once more.
you turn to face him slowly, still weary of any more water he may send your way. "is that so?" you ask lightly. there's a mischievous grin on your face that matthew knows too well - and his suspicions are confirmed when you begin to splash water back at him, drenching his face and hair.
you giggle as he wipes his face, the same hand sliding up and pushing his dark hair away from his face. the water making his brown locks look even darker. "I let you win and this is how you repay me?"
you shrug again. you don't want to feel chilled, so you drop your shoulders into the water so that your whole body is under the water's cool surface - saved for your neck and head. "yeah - can't think of a better way to show my gratefulness." you tease him.
matthew follows suit and submerges his upper body in the lake. he moves impossibly closer to your body - the water providing a privacy in the public setting. with that in mind, he reaches for you, grabbing your leg to gently drag you through the last bit of water left between your bodies.
you gulp nervously as your leg rest's on him. he doesn't let you go, holding your thigh against his hip while your other leg slips between his own two. you can't find the strength to look away from his gaze - not even concerned if you're friends are eyeing you two suspiciously.
"I can think of a way you can show your gratefulness." matthew whispers, hand moving up your thigh in the water until he reaches your bikini bottoms, fingers moving along your ass cheek and slightly slipping beneath the edge of your bathing suit.
"matty..." you breath. his chest heaves with air as he stares down at you - your cheeks slightly sunburnt to give you a permanent sun kissed glow. your lips plump and pink, dark eyelashes wet and making your eyes look even bigger as you blink prettily up at him.
you hear janie and logan laugh as they get into the water, only a few meters away from your and matthew's intertwined bodies. it has you coming to reality, pushing away from matthew to create an appropriate amount of space between you all while trying to appear nonchalant.
logan was too busy trying to sneak attack you to dunk your head under to notice the tension between you and matthew - janie distracted by logan. your and matthew's touching flying under the radar once again.
after a little more swimming and trying to cool your body down from your sensual encounter with matthew - you all decide to lay in the sun for a little bit longer before heading back to the campsite: saving daniel from his lonesome.
daniel has just got the fire started when you all get back from the beach: the warmth of the flames sooth your chilled damp skin. regardless of the warmth, you slip into your tent to grab a hoodie to further keep you from feeling cold.
logan and matthew had just started the grill when you emerge back outside. logan was preparing the frozen patties for cooking, while matthew was cleaning the grill's top with the metal bristled brush - his biceps flexing with each movement on the bars.
"hey, y/n, wanna help me with the salad?" janie asks from the picnic table. her voice has you quickly looking away from your friends arms and over to her - janie eyeing you playfully as she chops through some cherry tomatoes.
"yeah," you hum, taking a seat across from her. you can feel her still giving you that teasing look, so you busy yourself with slicing through the sticks of celery - cubing them because you know matthew prefers them that way - to avoid her gaze.
a moment later, you hear the brunette sigh, tossing her tomatos and shredded leaves into the red serving bowl. "so," she begins, "what were you and matthew talking about."
you eye her, but she has moved her attention to crumbling feta.
janie continues, "in the laker earlier. it seemed..." she pauses, squinting in thought as she tried to think of her wording - "intense." she settles on, feta clinging to her fingers.
you hum nonchalantly, scooping the cubed celery into your palms and dropping it into the salad. "did it?"
she nods suspiciously, "yeah, and i've been thinking about how the past few years something between you two has seemed rather intense - since college. what's up with that?"
she is talking relatively quiet, but you still glance over your shoulder to make sure nobody is listening - the three boys are laughing around the grill, completely oblivious.
when you meet your friends eyes again, she quirks an eyebrow in your direction knowingly. janie is looking at you like she knows you're deepest darkest secret - not just about the casual hookups between you, but also your feelings for matthew.
you should've known janie would figure it out sooner or later. when you moved to arizona and started at the new highschool, not only had you become close with matthew, but you had become just as close with janie. you were instantly drawn to her bubbly personality and confidence - she was your best girl friend. if you weren't with matthew - you were with the small brunette girl.
as she looks at you, she's not even working on cutting up vegetables for the salad - her full attention is on you.
you don't feel like hiding anymore. "janie," you sigh sadly, hands dropping the knife so you can cover your cheeks, "I have to tell you something."
she huffs happily, leaning further over the picnic table. "spill."
then, quietly and with a much detail as you can manage, you tell your friend everything. you start with when you realized you had feelings for matthew in freshman year and when the crush turned into love. you tell janie about your and matthew's pact about loosing your virginities and then turning 18 and having sex for the first time - about how your relationship turned into one with benefits and how you were still falling deeper in love with matthew.
she listenes intently, every so often making sure the guys are busy and not eavesdropping on your private confession - which you were thankful for as you were way too distracted with your own beating heart to notice if there were prying ears.
when you finish, ending on your brief conversation in the lake that afternoon, janie smiles at you softly. "I had a feeling there was something going on - but I didn't realize you were in love with him."
"really?" you laugh in disbelief, "I thought I was being obvious at times."
she hums in thought, mixing the dressing into the fresh salad. "if anything, I thought it was the other way around. like if it was matthew here telling me he loved you - I wouldn't be suprised."
her words are similar to a punch in the gut, but instead of pain it's a wave of hopefulness and excitement. "what?" you question gently, "what do you mean?"
she laughs gently, "this whole time I thought that he's had a secret crush on you. he's been so touchy with you, and he's always looking at you all cute and blah," she says, "it makes sense now - you've been hooking up."
and now it feels like a punch, you think. matthew was only looking at you and teasing you and touching you in a way that could be construed as being in love because he knew you'd give him sex. and like you've already comes to terms with that - you're okay with that. you love matthew, of course, not just romantically but as your best friend. so as long as he was happy with your arrangement, and still felt comfortable telling you everything and anything like you two have always done - you were happy.
"you're right with that," you tell janie. you reach into the cooler pulled open on the picnic bench, cracking open a white claw to take a gulp. "but seriously, i'm fine with this. i'm used to the unrequited love thing with him, trust me."
she gives you one more smile, "okay, as long as you're okay then i'm okay."
"care for some meat in your buns?" logan says loudly, approaching the picnic bench with a paper plate loaded with burgers. matthew and daniel follow behind him, both laughing like little kids at their friend's attempt at a dirty joke.
"don't be gross," janie stands, grabbing the plate to set it next to the condiments on the other side of the salad and cooler.
you watch as daniel thanks his girlfriend with a kiss on the cheek, making janie smile brightly as she opens the bun bag.
you're hit with a momentary wave of longing as you watch your friend so happy with the man she loves, and you wish it was like that with you and matthew - despite knowing he would never want that with you.
logan, ever the flirt, kisses your cheek loudly and then rounds to the other side of the wooden bench to give janie the same one. "thanks for the salad ladies, love you both." he plops down beside daniel and starts to load his plate with some macoroni salad.
you laugh gently while daniel starts playfully yelling at logan about kissing his girlfriend. subconsciously, you use your shoulder to wipe the cheek your friend had smooched.
matthew sits down next to you, definitely too close for just friends. now that janie knows though, you don't feel to worried about the proximity, letting his leg push up against yours underneath the table.
"you want a burger?" matthew asks you, his hand circling on your lower back.
you nod, "yeah, thanks. just one."
he reaches down the table towards the end farthest away, grabbing your burger and two for himself - he even dresses yours exactly how you love it, which obviously has you smiling. in thanks, you serve him his salads - matthew too distracted with devouring his first burger to serve himself them.
matthew acknowledges your act of service with his calf wrapping around the front of your shin, pulling your leg to rest between his own under the table. and then when he smiles at you all cheesy between bites of his food - you don't even get disgusted, only feeling fuzzy and tingly all over.
you chug the rest of your white claw.
-
"when do you think the fireworks will start?" logan grunts across the bonfire, shoving a marshmallow on his stick roughly. "it's dark as shit."
janie shushes him and tells him not to swear - a couple little kids laugh in the distance to prove her point.
"soon," you tell him, twisting your metal stick that holds your marshmallow over the flames. the gooey ball slowly turning brown and crispy as you spin it. "patience is key, logan."
"yeah, well, my patience is running thin." logan chimes, pushing his own stick into the fire.
matthew laughs beside you, "you don't have patience to begin with."
the blonde scoffs, "y/n, tell the peanut gallery to quiet down."
you and matthew giggle quietly to each other at your friends annoyance. you let your arm bump into his bicep on your shared bench, head briefly resting against his shoulder as you laugh.
your marshmallow catches fire, and you smile victoriously. you pull it out from the bonfire and up to your mouth. the flame from the treat is hot on your face, but you blow it out quickly, leaving you with a melted and charred marshmallow. "alright, matty, i'm ready for the sandwich."
matthew praises your perfectly burnt marshmallow. "yes ma'am," he teases. you watch as he brings his arms up, a graham cracker with a square of chocolate in each hand, clutched between his fingers. you watch as he smooshes the marshmallow between the crackers, smoothly pulling the gooey sticky treat off the stick.
he smiles, "and there you go," matthew hands you the campfire treat, "take a bite of that and tell me it's not the perfectly crafted s'more."
he had been going on about his double deckered s'more since the drive to the campsite - claiming nobody could make the desert as good as he could. you had teased him relentlessly all afternoon about it, so once the fire had gotten started, matthew was quick to get the s'more kit out.
you send him a look, grabbing the s'more and taking a big bite. you feel the marshmallow goo smear onto your lips, graham cracker crumbling to the ground. you chew delicately, matthew watching you the entire time.
you swallow, "it's good."
"just good?" he repeats, eyes widening.
your use your free hand to wipe your mouth, "the best part was the marshmallow - which i contributed. just tasted like a normal s'more with extra chocolate."
he scoffs in disbelief, "which is the best part!"
you scrunch your nose, licking some smeared chocolate from your thumb. "the marshmallow is the best, actually."
he rolls his eyes playfully, "fine." then he dips his head down, taking the rest of your s'more between his teeth and right out of your hand.
you screech, "you better make me another one."
he shakes his head and swallows, "no you didn't like it." he faux's annoyance, turning his face away from you.
"oh my god," you huff.
"can you make me one of your s'mores?" daniel asks from across the small bonfire, leaning forward on his camping chair to catch matthew's eyes.
matthew sighs, "what's the point...my best friend doesn't even like them."
you laugh at his fake huffy tone, "I didn't say I didn't like them!"
he turns back to you, "didn't have to."
you laugh again loudly, and at the sound matthew finally cracks a smile. he throws an arm around your shoulders, pulling you into his chest. "i'm teasing you," you whispers into your hairline.
"had no idea," you tell him playfully, tilting your head up to look him in the eyes. he smirks down at you - one his his hands coming up to your mouth, where he thumbs the missed marshmallow off your lip.
you swallow nervously but continue to look up at him - the sound of your friends laughter and obliviousness to you and matthew fading into the background.
the squeal of a firework has you looking away just in time for the boom to sound throughout the campsite, sparks of red and blue lighting up the sky in the distance.
"fuck yeah," logan cheers, jumping up from his seat, claiming he gets a better viewing angle if he stands.
janie follows suit, phone out to get pictures and videos of the firework show - daniel at her side as all there backs are now turned to the forgotten flames of the bonfire.
as you watch the beautiful lights, you feel matthew squeeze around your shoulders tighter and then he presses a long kiss to the corner of your mouth.
-
you're one of the last ones sitting by the dying fire, your body flushed with the heat and alcohol. still sitting beside you, matthew laughs deeply at something logan says - his shoulder rubs against yours at the movement. you're also laughing at logan's slurred attempt at a joke, and you shush them gently through your giggles.
logan moves to stand, his lean body swaying slightly as his arms reach up over his head in a long stretch. "should probably head to sleep anyways."
"me too." you nod in agreement, "janie will have us all up before 7 for that hike she's been taking about."
both matthew and logan groan at the thought, heads dropping backwards in protest. you roll your eyes but smile, although you're also not looking forward to the early wake up call, the hiking trail looked beautiful and you were looking forward to the scenery - clearly, the boys couldn't care less.
"alright, kniesy, you want the blue sleeping bag or the green one?" logan teases, his fingers working against the zipper of the tent as he glances over his shoulder at you both.
matthew shrugs nonchalantly. he puts out the last tiny gathering of flames in the pit with a jug of lake water. "i'm not sharing with you. i'll share with y/n...she smells better."
his words make you blush. you turn away and busy yourself with cleaning up the collection of alcohol cans littered around the small campsite - tossing them in one of the empty coolers for disposal in the morning.
"dick." logan scoffs playfully, "I wear dior but suit yourself." logan doesn't protest any further, and clambers into his form of shelter, zipping up the tent's entrance behind him - leaving you alone.
you can hear matthew pick up some beer bottles, the glass clanking together in his hands. he clears his throat, "is that okay?"
you hum lightly with question. you don't turn to look at him, too worried about the reaction your body might have now that you're finally alone with matthew after a day of tension.
"that we share a tent? is that okay?" matthew walks up behind you, and he reaches to grab the can in your hand.
you finally meet his eyes as you look back at him. "course it's okay," you say gently. with your hands now free, they itch to reach out and run over his torso, pull him into you and kiss him roughly right there.
"i've got these if you want to head into bed." matthew tells you quietly, tossing more cans into the cooler.
you blink three times, and you swallow with a quick nod. "okay." you start making towards the direction of now your and matthew's shared tent, listening as matthew cleans up the picnic table. you pause, looking over you shoulder.
as if matthew can feel your stare, he glances back at you. he raises his brows with a smirk at your face - clearly on the verge of saying something. before you can talk yourself out of it, you smile teasingly. "i'll make sure I smell real good for you."
matthew grins, straightening his posture as he finishes cleaning the table he'd been hunched over. under the glow of the stars, you can see matthew's face flush at your comment, and knowing your words had affected him in some way have you blushing.
matthew clears his throat, "looking forward to it."
your blush deepens.
you take two steps backward until you feel the polyester entrance of the tent. matthew sends one more seductive smirk in your direction before you spin around, climbing into your tent in an attempt to calm yourself down.
you can hear matthew tidying up the plastic garbage bags while you take a few deep breaths, pressing a hand to your warm forehead in an attempt to stay grounded. your stomach flutters at the mere thought of matthew coming into the tent with you, never mind the ideas that flood your head of what will happen when you two will finally be alone.
you exhale, kicking your sandals off to the side so you don't trek any dirt into the sleeping area. you had already pumped up the air mattress in preparation for sleep. sleeping bags had always made you claustrophobic: so you avoided them.
quickly, you start fluffing the bedding and shoving your things around until it looks somewhat organized. you're not sure why you feeling so nervous, but there's something about what's been brewing that has your chest tightening and mouth drying. maybe it was because you two were technically in public and not alone - or possibly because you hadn't had sex in a few weeks. either way, the thought of matthew had you trembling.
just as you flick the small portable lamp on and the inside of the tent becomes illuminated with a dim glow, you can hear matthew begin to tug on the tent's zipper - he struggles a few times, no doubt from the combination the alcohol and the darkness of the late night.
"fuck me," matthew mutters as he finally steps in. the sound of his voice sends your heart racing, and you smile gently to try and seem calm. the flashlight is shining from his phone and through his front hoodie pocket - he must've just slipped it in there as he entered. "stupid zipper."
you clear your throat, "maybe it's not the zipper that's stupid..." you trail of teasingly, grabbing onto your duffle bag to lug it on top the mattress.
matthew laughs, raising his brows in your direction. "you're just such a bully today."
you purse your lips, digging through your belongings until you find your lemon printed pyjama set. "you're still bitter because I won the race -"
"by cheating," he reminds you cheekily. matthew must've made a trip to his car after putting the garbage in logan's truck bed, because you see his overnight bag on his arm. he drops it near the foot of the bed with a thud.
"by being smart." you correct him with a hum.
matthew drops down to the mattress beside you, the velvet material puffing under his weight - the movement sends you into his side. now that you're closer, he reaches out slowly, tucking some of your fallen hair behind your ear.
you grip onto your pyjamas to keep yourself present as matthew's eyes bore into yours - a little hazy from the alcohol but they're still the most beautiful eyes you've seen.
his hand moves back, thick fingers threading through strands of hair so he can hold the side of your head, his thumb stroking along your scalp behind your ear.
you think you may have a heart attack. the combination of his intense lustful gaze and his hands on your skin has you squirming.
"you've always been so smart," matthew continues quietly, and his breath tickles against your red cheeks. "expect for s'more knowledge - you're not too smart in that department."
you click your tongue, gently pushing against his peck in protest. "you're such a little shit."
matthew grabs you, his warm palm wrapping around your wrist so you're unable to pull your hand away from his chest. "I miss you," he tells you through an exhale, his finger stroking along the pulspoint on your wrist.
you hope he can't feel how fast your heart is beating. you swallow gently, and your free hand slides up his leg, resting right against the thick muscle above his knee. "i'm right here," you whisper.
matthew nods once, "I know."
the tone of his words seems off, but he doesn't leave you room to question it. matthew leans in, mouth capturing yours in a long awaited kiss. the little moments of tension throughout the day had finally spilled over as his lips slide against yours.
all nerves you'd been feeling disappear at the familiarity of his kiss and you sigh into his mouth pleasantly. slowly, your hand slips up towards his face. matthew allows you to move, releasing his grip on your wrist so you can cradle his jawline with both of your hands.
with his now free hand, matthew grabs onto your waist, fingers curling into your skin as he begins to guide your body backwards - slowly, as if not startle you or rush you.
matthew keeps your lips connected until your back hits the rubber mattress, continuing his delicious assault on your mouth as you fall into a horizontal position. the air mattress squeaks and puffs under the change in position - typically a comical sound, but with the way matthew's lips trial down your jaw and continue down to your jugular, you don't find it humorous. you're too distracted from the wet kisses on your skin and the weight of his body on yours.
matthew pauses where your neck meets your collarbone, nipping at your sunkissed skin before soothing the sting out with his tongue, licking a flat strip over every bite. the feeling has you panting quietly, your hands raking through his thick brown locks. he sucks on to your sweet spot, right in the pit of your collarbone, and your grip tightens - illiciting a moan from matthew.
"lift your hips for me, baby," his command is whispered against the shell of your ear, pressing a kiss there, which sends a shiver through your body.
you do as he requested, lifting your lower half off the bed. you core bumps against his crotch, matthew's semi bumping your bundle of nerves perfectly - the contact sends a moan tumbling past your puffy lips.
matthew hisses, "fuck can't do that baby - feels too good." he pushes off your body, leaning back to rest against his heels.
your smirk, thrusting your hips into the air involuntarily - searching for the friction he had provided just moments before.
matthew reaches towards you, hands landing on your hip bones. he curses, two of his fingers hooking the waistband of your bottoms, tugging them down in one rough pull.
instinctively, your legs fall open wider, exposing your bare core further for matthew. your body was clearly ready for whatever was to come next - you feel yourself clench around nothing at the thought.
the dim light catches you, and matthew smirks at the sight your pussy glistening with arousal. "fuck," he curses again. two of his thick fingers slide through your folds, playing and gathering your wetness and spreading it up to your clit. "already so wet for me."
you whine, "please, matty - don't tease. I need you so bad." his fingers prode at your dripping entrance and you sigh pleasantly, tugging your lip between your teeth as you watch him move. matthew slips a finger inside and your back arches off the mattress, mouth falling open in a silent moan.
"feel good, baby?" he question, pumping into you lazily - hitting all the right places and nerves that could have you coming in seconds.
you moan again, "I need you inside me."
"yeah, okay," matthew breaths, pulling his fingers from your entrance with a squelch. he makes you suck your arousal off his digits - watching you blissfully and mouth hung open as your tongue swirls along his fingers.
matthew stands up, quickly shoving his pants down his thick thighs. he's left naked from the waist down, only left in his maroon hoodie.
the sight of that has you giggling, biting on your thumb to try and contain your wave of laughter.
matthew laughs as he pulls his sweatshirt over his head in one swift motion - leaving him bare in the privacy of your tent. any and all previous laughter comes to a halt, and you admire his naked form shamelessly. he's always been so sexy, you think. with a broad strong chest and defined abs, accompanied by his thick arms and legs - he was the epitome of perfect.
"fuck," you swear, "come back here."
he listens to you request, naked body soon hovering over you. "shit," matthew curses gently after a quick press to your lips. "I don't have condoms." he tells you, pushing himself further above you with one arm. affectionately, his other hand strokes the hair away from your face.
you shake your head and bring your lower lip into your mouth again - knawing on the swollen skin. "I don't care," you admit to him quitley.
matthew's face lights up, and his brows raise in a silent question. "you sure?"
you shrug with a small smile, "I mean, I haven't like been with anyone in awhile- and i'm clean...if you're-"
"i'm clean," he interrupts you gently.
you stomach swoops with a mix of nervousness and excitement. the lips you had once been knawing at is released with a quiet pop - a wide grin breaking out on your face.
matthew takes the bruised coloured lip between his, licking the skin before bringing you into another kiss. your lips crash together passionately, brushing over one another in a way that makes your body feel like it's on fire. your heart is palpating in your chest when matthew's hand leaves your hair, trailing down your body until it reaches your bare hipbone.
his warm hands slides up, pushing your hoodie towards your chest with his fingers. he breaks the kiss momentarily, matthew's chest heaving against yours as he tries to catch his breath. "arch your back for me."
"m'kay," you hum, lifting your lower back offthe mattress. with the space under you, matthew pulls your hoodie off your torso, pulling it over you head and throwing it towards your duffle bag that had been pushed off the bed - sitting upside down on the polyester floor.
now left in only a yellow printed bikini top, nipples pebbled underneath the thin damp material. matthew's tongue darts out to wet his lower lip, and he rips away the cups from your breasts, revealing you completely. "fuck, you're so pretty." he mumbles.
"matty, please fuck me." you whimper, hooking your leg around the curve of his hip, locking yourself in place against him. you tug him down gently, his hard on bumping your bare core roughly.
you moan in unison at the friction. matthew answers you by gripping his throbbing dick in his fist and he pumps himself a few times, readying himself for your warmth. he lines the tip of himself with your hole, gently sliding his head through your dripping wet folds - bumping your clit until your whining.
"matty," you whine. "please."
his head slides into you, slowly, your pussy pulling him in naturally. the full feeling was so beautifully overwhelming, and you push your head further into the pillow under you, mouth falling open in pleasure.
you mewl at his dick filling you, "so much," you mumble, hands blindly finding the edge of your pillow case until you can grip onto it - grounding yourself. "always so much."
"shh... just a little bit more, baby," matthew soothes you, his hand coming up from between your bodies to untangle your hand from the pillow. he interlocks his fingers with yours, squeezing his hand in yours as he slides into you fully.
"oh my- shit," you curse, eyes darting down as matthew begins to thrust into your pussy. your free hand shoots up to hold onto his thick shoulder, keeping yourself in place as the pace begins to pick up.
"god, you feel so fucking good." he moans, leaning down so his lips capture yours. the kiss is more heavy breathing and exploring tongues than anything else, but it all feels too damn good to care.
matthew breaks the kiss, his forehead pressing against yours. his hips and dick continuing to thrust into you at the speed and pressure you love so much.
in that moment, you think how easy it would be for you to tell him you love him. the way he keeps his eyes trained on your face, or the way he touches you so delicately - it's almost impossible to not to slip up and say something. his skilled kisses and forceful thrusts into you, it's all too much.
"you okay, baby?" he huffs, eyes locking on yours as he continues thrusting.
you nod, pushing your lips on his once more. your stomach tingles when matthew immediately kisses you back. he untangles your intertwined hands in favour of reaching between your bodies again, thumbing your sensitive clit.
you moan loudly, "fuck, keep doing that." he silences your noises with a quick peck, continuing the double stimulation on your pussy.
in the three years of having casual sex with matthew, he has come to know your body very well - including when you're going to finish. he feels the way your walls begin to clamp down on his dick, as is if you were trying to pull him deeper into you. your grip on his shoulder tightens, your nails no doubt leaving creasing shaped indents on his tan skin.
matthew watches the way your face changes, an intense blissful expression taking over.
"i'm gunna..."
"I know, fuck, cum on my dick." he grunts between thrusts.
the coil in your stomach snaps at his command, and you release on him - your juices flowing from your weeping hole and wetting his lower region.
with three more hard thrusts, matthew moans, pushing into you as he finishes. you feel his cum coat your insides, thick ropes of semen spilling from his head and covering your sticky walls.
matthew grabs a hold of your hip, gently pushing down as he slowly pulls himself out of you. "shit," he curses, watching the way his cum drips from you, pooling against your ass and spilling onto the mattress. "you okay, y/n/n?"
you nod tiredly with a faint smile on your puffy lips, pushing up onto your elbows. "i'm okay," you confirm. "can you get me my pyjamas? I think I threw them on the floor earlier."
matthew laughs gently, "yeah." he crawls off your body, and you admire his naked ass as he walks over to the opposite of the bed to your tipped bag. he picks up your lemon set, tossing them at you gently. "you don't want to naked cuddle?"
you giggle, pulling on your top and buttoning it together. "janie will be in here early - can't have her seeing us naked."
he shrugs, pulling his boxer briefs back up his legs. "nothing wrong with a bit of nakedness."
you squawk, "maybe I don't want her to see you naked."
matthew brings his bottom lip between his teeth, smirking down at you as you pull your shorts on. "why? you'd be jealous?"
"more like embarrassed," you tease.
"hey!" he laughs, crawling back over your body to capture your laughing mouth in another kiss.
Part Four (B):
the summer breeze blows your sundress against your knees, the soft fabric tickling your legs. you sway with the warm air, eyes dancing over the busy park as you wait for matthew to return.
you watch him make his way over, a bright smile on his face as he weaves through walking adults and hyper kids. the sight has you breaking out into a grin, your previously crossed arms falling to your sides just as he reaches you. "and one strawberry ice cream cone for you, my majesty."
"why thank you, kind sir," you tease with a light giggle, taking the cone from his outstretched hand. you waste no more time, and lick a long stripe up the sweet strawberry ice cream, moaning gently as the cold cream melts over your tastebuds.
matthew snorts at the sound, his own tongue wrapping around his cone—chocolate, because h claims it’s the best. "yummy?"
you let out a half mumble, half hum for an answer, mouth preoccupied with licking ice cream for a proper response.
matthew’s smile grows at the sound, licking some more chocolate desert off his cone. he grabs your hand in his much warmer palm, interlocking your fingers together as you continue to stroll further into the arizona park.
the bright sun shines over the area, illuminating the vibrant leaves on the trees and the colourful flower beds that sat at every stump and bush. the scene is so relaxing and peaceful, like something from a painting. your eyes dart back to matthew.
matthew has always looked so amazing in the summer, you think. his hair becomes lighter, and he always bulks back up from the end of season weight loss. you watch as his muscles contract under his white shirt, and the sight has your mouth watering. you distract yourself by eating some more of your sweet treat.
"you good over there?" he squeezes your hand, "do you regret your flavour choice? do want some chocolate ice cream?"
"I’m good," you dismiss, looking away from his intense gaze. but then you double back, eyes darting between his and his dripping chocolate cone. "I do want some though - give me a lick." you steady his wrist, making him snicker.
after you feel you’ve tasted enough, you pull away with a smile, pleased as you lick the lingering chocolate off your plump lips.
almost instantly, matthew is eyeing you again "you sure everything is okay? you looked pretty lost in your head for a minute there—starting off into space like a weirdo.”
"i’m not a weirdo!" you snort.
"y/n." he deadpans.
you moan gently, head falling to matthew's bicep. "okay, fine—I was just thinking that you look nice. hope you’re happy now."
a fond smile makes its way onto his face, "you're such a loser—my classic sappy y/n."
"hey," you scoff, pulling away from matthew's touch. "don't be a jerk- I take it back now.”
"I was only joking and teasing you," he chimes, hands reaching back out for you before you get too far, "come back here." matthew successfully grabs onto your wrist, pulling you back into his space. he tucks you even further into his side than you were before, which only heats your skin further.
you pout largely and mumble distractingly, "yeah, you better be."
matthew laughs breathily at your exaggerated facial expression, and he brushes his lips against your sweaty hairline as a wordless apology. but you’re not actually mad—you’re not sure if you could ever truly be mad with matthew.
you walk in silence for a few minutes, taking in the busy park while you and matthew finish off your respective ice cream cones. it's moments like this that you cherish so much with matthew—the moments of complete silence, where the two of your just enjoy each others presence without words. one of the reasons you love matthew so much is because how comfortable he makes you, no matter where you are or what you're doing.
eventually, you take a deep inhale, breaking the silence between you. "thanks for the ice cream, matty. and for bringing me here. god, don’t think we’ve been here since we were kids.”
he squeezes your shoulders, "of course. I feel like we haven't spent time together in fucking forever. which is just ridiculous because you’re my favourite person to be with."
you smirk teasingly, gazing up at him with a mischievous glint. "look who's the sappy loser now." you nudge your elbow deeper into his side, and then wrap that arm around his waist so he can't pull away from you.
"oh okay," matthew sighs, "I see how it is."
"i'm teasing," you sing song, laughing gently. your free hand comes up to grab his fingers on the hand that was dangling of your sundress covered shoulders. "dish it but can't take it, matty?"
matthew slows in his steps, making you both come to a gradual stop. he grabs your waist, spinning your body to completely face his as you stand still in the middle of the park. "you're impossible, y/n/n." matthew says with a grin. he takes one hand and reaches for your face, your warm summer flush being covered by his palm.
"shut up," you say through a smile, "you're the impossible one."
"mhm," matthew hums quietly, thumb stroking along your cheek bone as he holds you. you watch the way his eyes move over your face gently, staring at all your freckles and moles, down to your lips and back up to your bright eyes. matthews tongue darts out to wet his bottom lip, his fond expression indicating he didn't really hear what you said - too distanced by....you.
you swallow gently, your own eyes never once straying from his face as he studies you. you feel unbearably warm under his gaze, heat bubbling in your blood in the best possible way.
matthew's right hand comes up to brush against the other side of your face, holding you between his large palms. on instinct, you touch his hips, your delicate fingers dusting along the linen fabric of his shirt.
he finds your eyes once more, holding your gaze for a long moment. that fond look had yet to disappear, and if anything it become more prevalent when your eyes locked.
you think you might gasp, or swear or pass out - you're not sure, but your head is spinning with love and happiness under matthew's stare.
you're not sure if you should say anything. you think of maybe asking him if he's okay, but your words die on your tongue when matthew licks his lips again, wetting the plump skin in a way that makes them even more desirable.
a beat passes, and then matthew finally closes the gap between you and captures your lips in his. the pressure is comforting and the way he sucks your top lip into his mouth expertly had your knees feeling weak - gripping onto his waist to keep yourself upright.
the kiss doesn't last long enough before matthew is pulling away - mindful of the busy public setting and the people bustling around the park. you sigh at the loss of contact, and at the sound of your disappointment matthew leans back in, stealing one more chaste kiss.
"you taste like vanilla," matthew says cheekily, he's still holding your face, keeping you close in his space.
you scrunch your nose up, the skin crinkling in the middle of of your face. matthew smiles at the sight. slowly, he releases your face, hands coming down to interlock your fingers once again - tugging on your hand as he begins to walk again.
"you taste like dusty waffle cone." you say, squeezing his hand reassuringly.
matthew chuckles, "you love my dusty waffle cone." he swings your intertwined hands between your bodies, his knuckles brushing the soft material of your sundress with every pass.
you take a long breath in, smiling gently - the scent of peonies and roses invading your senses pleasantly. you look towards matthew and find him already smiling at you.
you shrug at his statement, "I prefer sweet."
his smiles widens, "good thing i'm sweet enough without the ice cream then, huh?"
matthew's teasing has you blushing all the way to your chest and up your ears, nibbling on your lip in an attempt to contain your grin. "good thing."
matthew's smile softens slightly, but the look of amusement never leaves his eyes. he tugs your arm, "c'mon," he says, "let's go get food and then head home - i've been having an urge to binge american pie."
"deal," you smile, "but only if we get pizza."
matthew groans in agreement, "you've got a deal."
Part Four (C): halloween, sophomore year UNI
"whoops," you mumble, arms held out to regain your shaky balance after almost falling over. normally you'd blame your stumbling on the uneven concrete outside your residence building, but the margarita's pumping through your blood were definitely the reason tonight.
"careful," matthew laughs, a strong arm reaching out to grasp on to your waist. one of your devil wings stabs into his ribs, but because of his own alcohol intake, matthew doesn't seem to feel it. "did you want me to come up with you?"
you hum with contemplation, slowing in your steps as you approach the glass doors of residence. "think i'll be okay..." you smirk, spinning in his arms so fast it makes you momentarily dizzy. "unless you want to fuck."
matthew laughs, "we are both too drunk." he's almost suprised at his own common sense - even furrows his brows after he finishes the scentence.
"you're right," it's a sigh from your lips, and you fall forward into his chest, arm circling around his waist over the angel costume. "at least a kiss before I go?"
matthew smirks at your pouty face, your chin pressed between his pecks as you stare up at him. wordlessly, he grabs a hold of your face and kisses you.
the kiss is a little messy, and the flavours of your respective drinks mix between your shared silvia. regardless, it still has your blood pumping in your ears and matthew grinning against your mouth - both of you too drunk to care.
when he pulls away, his eyes are droopy with sleep and lust. "y/n/n," he whispers, "can I tell you something."
"always," you slur.
he brushes over the top of your head, smoothing your frizzy curls. "I purposely rejected girls last year so that i'd loose my virginity to you....because I only wanted it to be you. I've never wanted anyone the way I want you."
too drunk to disect his words, you smile clueless, pressing a chaste kiss to the palm of his hand. "I wanted it to be you too."
matthew, who is also too drunk to take in your words or understand his own, smiles cheekily. "wanna get frozen yogurt tomorrow?"
you gasp, "yes!"
the next afternoon when you both wake up, neither of you get frozen yogurt because neither of you remember the conversation.
Part Five:
something has definitely changed between you and matthew. maybe it was just in your head, but ever since the kiss you shared in the park a few week prior, there has been a shift between you.
touches lingered longer, eyes swam with newfound confidence and when he would kiss you, he would do it just for the purpose of kissing. it wouldn't lead to sex or a heated make out, matthew would simply just kiss you hello and goodbye or after a teasing remark.
and sure, it's not that matthew would only kiss you when he wanted sex before that - but it was never for no reason. the park kiss was the first time you felt loved by matthew and when he kissed you because he just felt like it.
you think maybe there's a possibility something was blooming between you. a small chance that matthew had feelings for you - that he loved you.
"hey," matthew whispers, hand squeezing your thigh to grab your attention. "you okay?"
you blink, looking away from the tiny airplane window and over to your friend. you nod, "i'm okay," matthew's eyes scan your features quickly, but you catch his worried eyes - sending a reassuring smile. "just trying to remember if I packed my toothbrush." you lie easily.
matthew seems to buy it, laughing gently into your shoulder. "if you did, i'll buy you a new one."
you smile, and your arms snake around his bicep in a hug. "better be one of those expensive electric ones if that's the case." you tease quietly. matthew laughs again, his arm flexing under your hands.
"anything you want."
only a week after your ice cream date in the park, matthew had asked if you wanted to come with him to toronto for a week. he said that around august every year, the guys started to get back into the groove of things, so he was thinking of heading back for a brief visit before moving back for the season.
when you asked why he wanted you to come, he said he wanted his favourite person to meet his toronto family, which obviously sent you into a loving spiral. it was enough for you to agree, packing your bags and accompanying your best friend to canada a week later.
you find yourself turning to look out the window once again, the CN tower looking back at you from a few miles in the distance. a wave of excitement floods you, and your turn back to matthew.
"i'm excited to meet everyone," you admit. one of your hands move from his arm to grab his hand that was on your leg, palm coming down on the top of his hand. "can't wait for them to tell me how much of pest you are in the locker room."
he scoffs playfully, "the only reason you want to see everyone is so that you can talk shit?... I should've known better."
you laugh, hiding your face in matthew's broad shoulder. he smiles at the sound, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. you smile into his shirt at the feeling, letting your brain run wild with feelings.
"are you sure it's okay that i'm staying with you?"
"course," matthew hums, "john and aryne are so excited to meet you. aryne has already said how stoked she is to have a girl in the house for a week."
that has you grinning, squeezing his hand happily. "I can't believe i'm going to meet an nhl superstar," you whisper giddy.
matthew quirks a brow, "you've met me. I thought I was an nhl superstar?"
"you'll still be my favourite," you trail off, tilting your head up so brush your lips against his, giving matthew a chaste kiss.
'attention passengers, we will be making our descend to toronto pearson international airport now - please ensure you remain seated and keep your seatbelts buckled until landing."
matthew pulls away from your kiss, giving your thigh another assuring squeeze.
—
"no way!" you grin, your knife slowing is it cuts through your piece of saucy chicken, "what did you do?" you asked amused, stabbing your food before bringing it to your mouth.
aryne tavares swallows her mouthful of water, placing the glass down gently. "well, I panicked for sure! I ushered axton to go with steph, and handed the baby to jake's wife. then I ran after jace! he sure is small but god did his small legs outrun me."
you laugh lightly, slowly chewing your piece of chicken before swallowing. "that's sweet though, regardless."
"I know," she smiles sweetly, eating some of her own honey garlic seasoned meat.
beside you, matthew laughs as well, shoving another mouthful of rice in his mouth. "he made me ride home with them because he was worried - held my hand the whole time." he tells you between chews of his food.
you coo, forking some of your crispy potatoes.
aryne and john tavares had picked you up from the pearson airport terminal, and they greeted you like you were apart of their family and have known you for years. immediately, you felt welcomed by the tavares', all of you falling into comfortable conversation on the drive to their home.
you and aryne had cooked dinner together, laughing and talking like the two of you had done it many times before - making a delicious honey garlic glazed chicken with whole grain rice and crisp baby potatoes.
as you all sat down to eat, john and aryne wasted no time jumping into stories about matthew and his first few months in the NHL - including the most recent one that aryne had been sharing: when matthew got his concussion and their son, Jace, had ran through the arena to make sure matthew was okay.
"didn't stop him from whacking me with a mini stick the next morning," matthew teases after your fond coo.
you all laugh gently, not wanting to wake any of the kids from where they slept upstairs - wiped out from spending the day at their grandparents.
"I love that story," you admit fondly, finishing off your portion of perfectly seasoned rice.
"matthew said you would," john muses, sending your friend a knowing glance through his thick dark lashes, a smirk beginning to tug on the captain's mouth.
"did he now?" you tease in matthew's direction, further contributing to the blush rising on matthew's warm face. he chuckles gently, eyes trained on his empty dinner plate to avoid his captains tease and your soft gaze.
"he talks about you all the time," john continues to tease, laughing as his younger teammate splutters with embarrassment. "think I know more about you than I do about matthew."
aryne scolds her husband with a smile, smacking his arm gently.
"all good things I hope?" you question gently, a hopeful smile tugging your lips upwards as you look around.
matthew clears his throat quickly. "always" he tells you, rubbing along the top of your thigh, his warm palm tickling your exposed skin underneath the dining room table.
you blush, clearing your throat before taking a healthy sip of your water.
—
the weight of matthew's body on top of yours is foolproof. although his full weight isn't on you, the heat of his skin has you feeling amazing.
the spare bedroom popcorn ceiling of the tavares house is staring down at you, bright white and crisp. the room still smells like matthew - like he never left his home in toronto. his clothes still in the closet, and his cologne and old spice deodorant on the dresser.
a smile breaks out on your face at the sight and thought of matthew being so comfortable and happy in toronto, your eyes darting to his as he looks down at you - his own grin playing at his lips.
"I can believe i'm in your room."
his brows pull together ever so slightly, his lips tugging further upwards. "you've seen this room before."
"yeah," you sigh, "but only on facetime. this is different - I love it."
matthew laughs gently, face dipping down to hide in the crook of your neck. his hair tickles your skin, and the tip of his nose nudges against your pulse point. matthew presses his lips on your sweet spot, but instead of kissing you, he blows a raspberry. the feeling has you squirming, a tiny squeal falling form your lips as you laugh - trying to escape the tickle sensation.
he pulls away to look at you, a cheeky smile on his face.
"you're ridiculous," you laugh, pinching the inside of his bicep.
matthew's smile widens, "you love when I do that."
"no I don't." your smile gives you away, and matthew is leaning back in, blowing a quick raspberry on your flushed cheek - eliciting another laugh from you. he soothes the tickle with a quick kiss, turning your face more pink.
"I missed you so much when I was here," matthew says gently, "I can't believe that you're with me right now."
you blink in suprise, a fond smile blooming on your lips. "nowhere else i'd rather be."
he quirks a brow up playfully, "than with me?"
"no," you deadpan, "this bed. god, that nhl money really gets you the expensive mattresses, huh?" you tease, stretching your arms over your head in an exaggerated stretching motion.
matthew tongues his cheek with a grin before using one of his hands to tickle your exposed under arm. you squeak again, bringing your arms down quickly.
a moment passes, and then matthew is holding your cheek, his face coming down again but this time to kiss you softly. like usual, your stomach swoops, the feeling of his lips tenderly pressing into yours nothing short of perfect.
he pulls away an inch and then presses one more long kiss to your lips. you sigh pleasantly, eyes fluttering open to meet his blue ones again.
in between your spread legs, you feel matthew's dick twitch through his lulu shorts, right against your core. he groans quietly, "you know how many times i've jerked off in this bed thinking about sex with you?"
a mix of a laugh and gasp passes your lips, "matty! that's so gross."
he laughs amused, "and you love it."
you really do.
"so, what? i'm just laying in your cum? you're nasty." you laugh again, covering your face with in the crook of your elbow.
gently, he tugs your arm away, revealing your face to him once more. "my cum is literally in you."
you shush him, burning a deep burgundy all over.
"hey," matthew starts, "tomorrow I was thinking we could go around the city? do all that shitty tourist stuff until our heads explode. then tomorrow night, mitch and steph are having a get together at this club, thought we could go. then you can meet everyone else."
you smile brightly as you listen to matthew, enjoying the way he absentmindedly plays with the baby hairs around your face, pushing them off your forehead as he talks. "sounds perfect," you hum once he finishes.
matthew's smiles and he nods, pressing two quick kisses to your lips.
—
matthew woke you up at 7 a.m. the next morning, claiming you two had to get to the aquarium before the tourists did - when you reminded him that the two of you are also tourists, he shushed you quickly, making you laugh as his index finger pressed to your lips.
like he said he would, matthew took you around the whole city. he showed you the most iconic tourist spots in toronto - like the CN tower and museum, as well as bringing you to leafs square and showing you all his favourite spots. all day, matthew was so bubbly and happy showing you everywhere - he talked and laughed with you, never letting go of your hand or waist as he dragged you around toronto.
for a late lunch, matthew brought you to a cute cafe in trinity bellwoods, which was so delicious. while you both ate cheesy sandwiches, he had trapped your leg between his own, smiling gently anytime you caught gazes. it was all so....domestic and wonderful - you fought hard to not grin like a manic the entire day.
"you still up for tonight? everyone's looking forward to meeting you." matthew spoke into your ear on the walk back to his parked car, arm wrapped around your shoulder to keep you close.
"yes," you said, "i'm excited." and then matthew kissed you right outside the sky dome for everyone to see.
you were....so in love with him.
—
you sighed, hands flattening your black skirt down as you checked your outfit over in the bathroom mirror. your top glittered as it caught the warm glow of the lightbulbs above, elevating a rather simple outfit into one appropriate for an expensive night club.
still unsure, you brought you lip between your teeth, tasting the strawberry lip stain as you did. "matty," you called out gently, padding out of the en suite and into the spare room matthew's stuff occupied, "is this okay?"
sitting on the mattress, matthew looks up from his phone at the sound of your voice. instantly, his eyes soften and glaze over, his plump lips parting as he drinks you in from head to toe.
he stands up, phone long forgotten as he makes his way over towards you. "more than okay," matthew mutters, reaching out to run his calloused fingertips over your bare shoulder, "i'm going to have to fight off other men - you look so pretty. i'm pretty good at fighting though, so don't worry."
"loser," you chime with a smile, "think it's appropriate?"
"yes," he smiles, "they'll be falling at your feet."
you roll your eyes playfully, brushing past him to grab your shoes in your small travel bag, rifling through your options. "is the uber almost here?"
he nods, watching as you pull out your favourite pair of shoes. "yeah, they're about to pull up." matthew answers, walking back over to your side.
"m'kay," you hum, strapping on the heels of your sandals. you teeter without your full balance, and matthew immediately grabs your arm to steady you.
you fight back your grin, finishing with the buckle.
matthew leads you outside with a hand on your lower back, gently guiding you into the back seat of the uber. you think he may choose to sit in the front seat, but he climbs in after you, sliding beside you effortlessly.
in the short ride to the nightclub, matthew's hand doesn't leave your leg, his palm either squeezing the meat of your thigh or a finger stroking along your tanned skin.
there's a moment when your driver makes a turn onto the street for the club, and matthew looks down at you fondly. his free hand brushes away some hair, lingering by your ear when he whispers, "being with you feels like a dream I never want to wake up from."
you feel your body melt into the backseat, your grip on his bicep tightening as you stare up at him. without knowing what words to say, you choose to lean in, kissing him with as much love you can put into a kiss.
as matthew pulls away with a giddy smile, getting ready to guide you out the uber and into the line for the nightclub - you decide you're ready to tell him how you feel. when you both are back home, you're going to confess your love to him and you think - after this trip - he will feel the same.
you can see the way matthew looks at you, how he touches you and the words he says - you are positive your best friend is in love with you. the thought has you giddy, letting matthew pull you into the club with smiles on both your faces.
a cheerful loud chorus of greetings are thrown in your direction as you and matthew approach the teams occupied table at the back of the club. watching matthew light up at seeing and hearing his teammates reactions to him, instantly had you beaming.
your smile widens as matthew introduces you to everyone - first as a group, and then to everyone individually. he praises you everytime, which has you blushing. and when he doesn't introduce you as his best friend, but rather his girl, you just about melt into the sticky flooring.
everybody is friendly with you, and as you sit between matthew and steph marner, you've never felt more included in a new group of people before. steph asks about anything and everything she can think of, and you answer with just as much passion and enthusiasm as she has. then the other wags chime in and ask you about yourself - matthew smiling fondly with an arm strewn over the back of your chair - it was all you could of wanted.
the first hour is spent catching up and getting to know everyone at the table, laughter and appetizers shared between you all.
it was all going perfectly, and then, "kniesy, does your girlfriend want another drink?" you hear jake mcCabe ask matthew. you tune out amber brodie's words at the question, your heart thumping and stomach churning as you anticipate matthew's gentle correction.
she's not my girlfriend, but she'll probably want another one or we're just friends, but sure.
"hey," matthew mumbles against your ear, "want another drink?"
you smile through your momentary moment of shock, "yea...thanks."
matthew didn't correct the title of your relationship to him.
your smile widens, and you turn back to amber with a new sparkle in your eyes.
the music is a dull thump in your ears, the bass of the song sending vibrations through your body as you sway with the beat. matthew's hands are all over you, sliding down your curves and spinning you around to dance with him. it feels like your 18 again, getting drunk and dancing your nights away at the alchemy.
you think you've been out here for at least an hour, and your feet are starting to ache - but you don't find yourself to care. you can see some of matthew's teammates dancing on the floor as well, laughing and moving with one another a little bit aways from you both.
you still can't believe how nice and kind everyone of matthew's teammates and their significant others are - you hope you see them more often.
you hope you'll be coming down to toronto during the season to watch matthew play this season - sitting in the WAG box and wearing your friends last name on your back. steph has already (very tipsily) shouted about how she's adding you to their groupchat - the rest of the girls agreeing just as loud.
you feel so at home.
matthew's hand slides down over the round of you ass, squeezing the flesh tightly. you're pulled from you own thoughts at the feeling, blinking hard to regain reality. there's a glimmer in his eyes, sparkling under the blue lights and he smirks.
"I want to kiss you so bad," he says over the music, his words hitting the side of your face as he leans down.
thankfully, matthew's slightly hunched position has him close enough for you to be able to turn your head and speak directly into his ear. "kiss me," you tell him, your lips brushing the shell of his ear as you do so.
the kiss is messy and hot. the flavours of your respective drinks mixing on your tongues as they swirl in a dance of their own. you feel matthew smile into the kiss, which has you grinning as well.
somebody hollers in passing, and when you open your eyes you catch sight of mitch and steph behind you - sending you both grins and thumbs up, clearly the two of them for the cat calling moments before.
the combination of being flustered, the kiss and being surrounded of sweaty moving bodies has enough for you to pull away form matthew, swallowing thickly. "I need a drink."
"m'kay," he hums, "lets go back to our table first? then you can sit for a bit while I get us some drinks?"
you grin, nodding in agreement, matthew grabbing your hand and interlocking your fingers, pulling you through the crowd of people and in the direction to the table.
the table is covered in various picked through appetizers, half empty glasses and bottles. there's a few people still sitting around and socializing- mostly the older guys who don't feel like dancing.
there's somebody there you haven't met, a pretty blonde girl who is chatting happily to pontus holmbergs girlfriend near the end of the table.
matthew sees her too, and immediately he tenses, his hand in yours going limp as his body goes still, eyes wide and face pale.
you frown at him, "hey, what's wrong-"
"matthew?" the girl asks loudly, a grin taking over her perfect face as she bounds over to you both. "I didn't think you'd be here!"
the girl hugs matthew's tense shoulder and then...she kisses his cheek- very close to the side of his plump pair of lips.
you stomach falls along with your face. you pull your hand away from your friends, bringing it back to your side just as the girl turns in your direction, arms still draped over matthew's shoulders.
"i'm hayley," she says, "i'm matthew's friend."
matthew blinks hard, turning to you with an expression of guilt and sadness and fear....and your heart shatters.
she continues, "well, we've like hooked up a few times. is that friends, I don't know," hayley laughs, clearly unaware of the growing tension, "anyways, who are you? I don't think we've met."
matthew opens his mouth to speak, but you don't let him and you cut him off with a closed mouth smile, "just a friend from home."
"cute," hayley hums.
you nod, tears beginning to gather along your waterline. matthew watches you with that same shocked look, eyes bewildered and chest heaving. the walls feel like they are closing in on you, and your throat closes so you can't breath properly.
"I need some air," you say quickly and quitley, your eyes downcast as you turn around, darting through the crowd of the nightclub and to the door - leaving hayley, the team and matthew without another glance.
you begin to cry as soon as you step outside. your stomach is sitting heavy in your belly, weighing you down as your insides crumble with disappointment and heartbreak.
you don't know where you are going, but you start walking down the sidewalk. you didn't know where you were downtown, but you knew you couldn't go back inside and watch hayley hang over the man you love - even worse, you can't watch the way matthew lets her.
"y/n!"
you don't turn around, speeding up your walk. you pull out your phone, opening the uber app. you are already planning on getting a ride to the nearest hotel for the night - you'd get your bags tomorrow.
"y/n!" matthew calls from behind you again, "please, don't walk away."
you ignore him.
you can hear his footsteps on the pavement getting closer, and you bite down on your lips to stop the gut wrenching sob from leaving you.
"please let's just talk." matthew says loudly, "why are you so upset? stop walking away!"
you stop walking quickly and turn around forcefully. matthew takes a step back, closer than you anticipated, and stares at you breathing heavily, his brows pulled together as he sees your tear soaked face.
you huff, "you lied to me matthew."
he cringes at your angry tone and the use of his full name. matthew closes his eyes momentarily and takes a deep breath. "I should've said something sooner, I know, but it's nothing - there's nothing going on."
you laugh exasperated, "but clearly there was! fuck, I thought we had no secrets."
"we don't!" matthew sighs, "I didn't feel like it was important enough to mention."
"not important enough to mention?" you repeat, brows raised in suprise. "did you forget that we are having sex, matthew? god, I let you fuck me without a condom when you've been sleeping with someone else! the first thing you should've done was tell me."
"I didn't want it to get blown up like how it is right now," he seethes, "honestly, this is why I didn't tell you."
you scoff, "don't make this my fault!" you tell him roughly. "I don't care that you hooked up with somebody matthew! it's the fact you never told me - even before we had sex without protection. I told you there was nobody else and you said the same," you sigh gently, "janie said it first, last week she said we should of had an exclusivity talk a long time ago-"
matthew squints, "you told janie about us? what the fuck."
"you lied to me matthew!" you repeat loudly.
his expression falls, and he sighs gently, blue eyes meeting the sidewalk under his shoes.
a beat passes between you.
"you're making me feel guiltier than I already feel," he tells you harshly.
you laugh harshly again, "good! god matthew, I can't fucking believe this right now! bringing me here and introducing me to your teammates. the touches and kisses and looks you've been giving me! what you said in the cab! I thought...." you pause, bringing your lip into your mouth.
matthew's eyes soften, "you thought what?" he asks you gently. when you don't answer right away, he takes a step towards you, hand outstretched like he will reach out and touch you.
you shake your head, laughing dryly as another set of tears spring into action, dampening your cheeks. you take a step away from him, ignoring the frown tugging at his lips and the emotions in his eyes. "I thought nothing, matthew." you turn away, continuing to walk down the street.
"no," matthew says, catching up and grabbing your arm, spinning you back around and keeping you in place, "don't walk away, y/n. we need to talk."
you sigh sadly, eyes closing as you desperately try and keep your tears from falling further. "what are we doing, matthew?"
he frowns deeper at your question, his brows drawing together as he looks down at your heartbroken expression. matthew doesn't know what to say, eyes darting between the two of yours in search of some sort of indication- an answer.
"I can't keep doing this. I can't keep lying to myself that I don't want more with you, because it's fucking me up so badly." you admit quietly, salty tears falling down your cheeks and wetting your mouth. you weren't expecting to say that to him - especially tonight. but you were so tired and distraught, your body was tired of fighting for his sake.
slowly, matthew's expression changed, mouth slightly parted as he breaths deeply. "what did you say?
"nothing," you sigh again, "clearly this arrangement we have doesn't work for us anymore. go back inside with hayley, don't let me stop you anymore."
finally, you walk away from matthew. he calls your name once more, but you don't dare turn to look, keeping your eyes on your phone as you order an uber - leaving your best friend and your heart on the streets of toronto.
Epilogue:
you booked a flight home the next morning. you had to use your entire credit card balance, which you would ultimately suffer for, but you couldn't bring yourself to care.
you cried to entire flight home, starring out the small window quitley as music blasted through your headphones - thinking about your fight with matthew over and over again until you landed back in arizona.
as soon as you got the wifi at the airport, you called janie, crying into your phone as you asked her for a ride home. she picked you up, and immediately you told her what happened with matthew - hiccupping through salty tears and laboured breaths.
you were so devastated.
locking yourself in your bedroom as soon as janie dropped you home, not even making an appearance for dinner. you silenced your phone and cried yourself to exhaustion.
you cringe in the early morning sun, tucked solemnly between your fuzzy blankets - cringing further at how stupid you must look thinking that your best friends love wasn't unrequited anymore - that matthew loved you back.
the thought of seeing matthew again seemed taxing - you couldn't see him. not only had you borderline confessed your feelings for him in the middle of the fight, but your heart got shattered in the process.
the look on his face when you said it - makes your stomach churn at the mere thought.
not only was there that heartbreak to process, there was also the whole thing of matthew having a girl in toronto - one that was well enough associated with him for somebody to feel the need to invite her out to the club.
he had slept with her, and then didn't tell you - he kept it all a secret, and when you asked about it, he lied to your face. matthew fucked you without protection knowing that - and he let you believe there was something more growing between you.
sniffing, you sit up in your bed, falling back against the padded headboard with defeat. your gold plated clock sitting above your desk reads 8:37, a reminder of just how early you'd naturally woken up - tear stained cheeks and headache included.
a knock sounds at your door quietly, pulling you from your pity party and a confused frown begins to tugs at your lips. your parents should be at work already, and janie hadn't mentioned coming over. perhaps your mom was home today, or janie was coming to keep you company - you wouldn't of got the message because your phone was still very much silenced.
"y/n?" the voice is muffled through the door, but you'd recognize the sound of his anywhere. after all, you've been replaying anything he's every said to you over in your mind since freshman year.
"y/n? are you awake?" matthew questions again.
you shoot up out of bed, bare feet padding to the closed door. matthew hears the springs of the mattress through the door as you move and the sound of you shuffling towards him.
you don't say anything but matthew had the conformation you're there and awake - all the conformation he needed that you were alive. you hadn't responded to any of his calls or texts - he's pretty sure he even emailed you, desperate to get you to talk to him.
so like any logical person would, matthew hopped on the next flight to arizona, suitcase still in his car while he knocks on your bedroom door.
"can you please open the door? I need to talk to you." he pleads gently.
your voice is shaky, tears of embarrassment and pain threatening to spill. "about what?"
matthew breaths a sigh of relief at the sound of your voice - although you don't sound like you usually do. you sound sad and tired...and that breaks his heart. he sighs again, and firmly asks again, "open the door."
you find your self hesitating for a moment, hand hovering over the bronze knob as you think about what's to come. maybe matthew wants an apology - your hasty exit from the club and making a scene in the streets was embarrassing for him. or maybe he's here to let you down, tell you that you can still be friends, but he doesn't have feelings - or worse, he can't be friends with you anymore.
the unknown is eating you alive, and with a deep breath, you turn the door handle, pulling open the door that separates you from him.
his face changes into something similar to relief at the sight of you, and you look down to the floor, knawing on your lip as you try to stay calm.
"what are doing here?" you ask. you look back towards his kind face, your brows pulled tight as you take him in.
he doesn't seem angry or upset. if anything he looks nervous...anxious even. you wonder if there's a reason for that, after all, he has cut his own trip short and come home to arizona for this conversation.
"did you mean it?" matthew ignores your question, taking a step closer to you. "what you said?"
he has to be talking about your brief confession outside the nightclub during the fight, you think, and you stomach drops. you knaw your bottom lip, further shredding the soft skin you'd been tugging on all night. you nod your head once, so quick you're not sure if matthew even saw.
but he did see it, and he breaths what seems like a sigh of relief, a very faint grin beginning to make its way onto his face. matthew clears his throat, "I did a shitty thing," he starts quietly, his adam's apple with a nervous swallow, "I lied to you because I was embarrassed. I lied because we're not just friends and we haven't been for a long time."
you mouth drops, heavy breaths falling past your lips. before you can even fathom your response, he continues. "I should've told you about that girl, even if I didn't want to. I only hooked up with hayley because I was trying to forget about my feelings for you. I know we're best friends, but I want to be more. so if you really meant what you said the other night, say it again. let me hear you say it again." he takes a deep breath, and an airy chuckle leaves his lips, "and I know this is a lot before 9 in the morning, but I need to hear you say it."
you swallow, saliva thick with nerves. pushing your messy hair off your face, hands desperately trying to keep busy. you don't know what to think. "is this a joke? are you only saying this to make me feel better?"
his brows draw together and he frowns - fingers itching to reach out and touch you. "I would never joke about what I feel for you."
matthew knies confessed he has feelings for you. everything you've ever wanted, everything you've longed for is about to happen - is happening.
"matty," you breath, "I love you and i've loved you for years...and I know that's more than what I said the other night and I hope it's not too much for you, but-"
he kisses you.
matthew holds you close as he leans down to capture your lips with his own, bottom and top enclosing around yours as he kisses like he always does: perfectly.
a moment later, your lips part and breathlessly, he pulls away, forehead resting against yours as you two catch your laboured breath.
"how long?"
"what?" you question quietly.
"how long have you loved me?" he whispers softly.
"since highschool," you admit.
"god," matthew whispers wondrously with a small smile, "I wish we had this conversation sooner....because i've loved you since freshman year. that's why I never had a girlfriend and that's why I proposed the idea of loosing our virginities to one another. I wanted to loose my virginity to you - and only you since the moment we met."
"you've liked me since highschool?" you ask dumbfounded, your pointer finger gesturing between you. "we were both really oblivious, huh?"
"I thought I was being obvious," matthew admits with a laugh, thumb rubbing along your cheekbone.
you shrug, hand coming up to hold his wrist tightly - keeping him close. "well, I think I was the only one being oblivious- janie knew you had a crush on me."
"damn," he smiles, "janie is smarter than I thought."
you giggle just as matthew leans back in, kissing you with as much force he can manage - and this time, you're sure of it - it was love.
Summary: You and Jack are best friends, but despite the label, Jack acts like you’re his girlfriend half the time. It messes with your head a little too much when Jack flirts with a girl right in front of you, and your future with Jack becomes cloudy.
Warnings: cursing, a tiny bit suggestive, fluff
Requested: Yes, celly prompt! “fluff friends to lover situation with jack sentence starter “do you?” and trail kiss prompt maybe where reader seems to be doubtful about where she stands in their relationship and jack admits he wants to be with her or something along those lines”
Word count: 2.8k
The precarious situation you found yourself in was like walking on a tightrope. No cable, no safety net. Just you and the rope, and the vast expanse of a free fall you never wanted to experience.
Sometimes you felt like Jack knew all of this, standing on the other side watching the fear on your face, wobbling on the thin string. Sometimes it felt like he was the gust of wind that questioned your balance, the hands that pushed your center of gravity sideways.
And the look on his face right now has you feeling like he is pulling the rope taut and then loosening it again just to see how you fumble.
It was supposed to be a casual dinner, you, Luke, and Jack. Jack said it would be nice for you all to hang out.
You were friends with Jack, and by extension, Luke and Quinn too. You had hung out with Jack and his brothers a multitude of times, as well as hanging out with their other respective hockey friends, but this felt different.
Especially after Jack had told you, slyly and with a smirk painted on his face, that Luke had cancelled. No other information other than that.
So you and Jack went out to dinner, a steakhouse that you felt underdressed at, despite Jack telling you that it was a casual dinner.
“So how’s work?” Jack asks, cutting off a piece of his steak as you stare at your essentially untouched plate.
“Uh, it’s fine. Nothing too exciting,” you say, but you’re not all there. And Jack knows that. But as he looks at you with the look that says he’d rather devour you over the porterhouse steak he’s dug into, you don’t know how to be subtle with your feelings. You don’t know how to carry on a conversation without your feelings coming to light.
You don’t want to have to tell him how he’s your first thought in the morning, your last thought at night before you go to bed, and how he plagues your thoughts during work. You don’t want to have to tell him how his eyes light your soul on fire in the best and worst of ways, how he can make you feel like you’re the most important thing in his life, in the world, and your body all but fails at functioning in response.
“Y/N, you okay?” Jack asks, grabbing your hand from his place across the table. Any unknowing bystander would assume you two were on a date.
But you knew better.
You make your way back to your apartment after the dinner, mind a tangled mess of feelings and insecurities that Jack has jumbled himself. And he probably doesn’t even know what he’s done to you.
That night you go to bed thinking about Jack, like you always do. You wish for once you could think of something else to comfort you into a deep sleep.
The next morning you awake to your phone buzzing on the nightstand next to you. It stops briefly, and you think you can go back to sleep again.
Until your phone buzzes again.
You slap the screen lazily in hopes to get it to stop, but you hear a voice from the speaker.
“Y/N? Hello?”
Jack.
“What?” you whine, voice full of sleep, eyes still closed.
“Wake up, sleeping beauty. I want to hang out today,” he says, and you hear rustling from the other side of the phone.
“You just saw me last night, bother someone else.”
You don’t mean it completely. You always want to see Jack, but you are also very fond of your sleep. And right now, Jack is interrupting said sleep, so you’re a little peeved.
“No, Luke went out with Ethan and Seamus and I’m bored.”
“I’m still sleeping,” you try reasoning, but you know how easily bribed by him you are, especially when he brings up the one thing he always does.
“I’ll buy you breakfast,” he sing-songs, and you know he’s caught. It doesn’t take a lot coming from him, but he doesn’t have to know that.
“Give me an hour,” you say, rolling out of bed.
“I’m already at your door,” he says. The knock that follows both over the phone and sounding around your apartment tells you everything.
“You little shit.”
You don’t even brush your hair or fix it, you don't take care of your morning breath, you don’t put a bra on or change outfits at all. You just swing the door open to see Jack in all his glory.
“Good morning,” he greets you as your eyebrows furrow at him.
You don’t say anything, just let him in and close the door behind him, going back to your room to get ready.
You galavant around the city, first eating breakfast and then shopping a little. You walk along the sidewalk, talking about mutual friends and hockey and work drama.
Jack has to stop to retie his shoe, and you look around as he’s bent down. You spot a black bag in a shop window out of the corner of your eye. Black leather with gold metal accents, and it’s beautiful, a bag a girl could dream about. But as your eyes scan for the price tag, the numbers that you see would have you budgeting in areas you couldn’t afford to budget.
“You ready?” Jack’s question cuts through you, making you jump a little as you feel his hand on your shoulder.
“Yeah, sorry.”
You continue your aimless journey, going into a few more shops before deciding to call it and go back to your apartment.
You're at Jack’s car when he says that he forgot to grab something for Luke he promised to grab, and he’s making his way back toward the shops.
“You gonna be okay here by yourself?” he asks. The way he’s looking at you has butterflies flitting around in your stomach.
“Yeah, I’ll be okay,” you say, giving him your best convincing smile. It seems to do the trick and he closes the door behind him, quickly retreating.
You scroll through some social media, only liking a few posts from friends and family before clicking your phone off. You look around the streets from the window, just glancing at the buildings and lights before turning your attention out the front windshield. To your surprise, you see Jack. To your dismay, he’s chatting up a smiling blonde who looks like her entire world might just start revolving around the one and only Jack Hughes.
You can’t blame her. Your entire world revolves around the one and only Jack Hughes too.
You see them engaging in enthusiastic conversation, and you become sick to your stomach.
You feel like you’re going to throw up when you see him hand her his phone. She types for a second before handing it back to him.
She shyly tucks a piece of hair behind her ear, looking to the ground briefly before looking back at him.
And Jack. He's smiling wider than you’d ever seen him smile at you.
And it hurts. Because you want him to look at you that way. You want him to smile at you like his world revolves around you.
You want what she’s getting from him. You’ve never wanted to be another person as bad as you want to be her right now.
The tears brim in your eyes faster than you can contain yourself. You avert your gaze to your lap, trying to breathe deep to calm yourself down before Jack gets in the car.
You hear the tug of his door handle. He slides into the seat with a practiced ease.
“Ready to go?” he asks. When you don’t answer you feel his eyes on you. It feels like holes are being burned into your skull from them with the attention he’s giving you. “You okay, Y/N?”
A hand plants itself on your shoulder, but you’re quick to shrug it off.
“Mhmm. Can we just go?”
He looks at you suspiciously. He knows you’re lying, but right now, you cannot will a single fiber within your being to give a shit.
“Okay. Mine or yours?”
You know he's asking which apartment you could both go hang out at. But all you could handle right now is being alone.
“Can you just drop me off at mine? My head is starting to hurt and I just want to lay down,” you lie. You hate lying to him. Partially because you feel bad, but also because you know he can see through you, he can read you like a book. Lying to him is pointless, but you do it anyway.
“Yeah, okay. Did you take something already?”
You hate how much he cares, hate how much he’s devoted to you in every sense of the word friend. But sadly, friends are all you two will ever be.
“Yeah. Can we please just go?” you plead.
“Yeah, yeah.”
The drive is quiet. Jack doesn’t turn on any music, he doesn’t talk at all. It’s silent. Not uncomfortably so, but still weird, like the slightest bit of early tension that you can’t quite tell is tension.
When he parks in front of your building, he’s quick to round the car to open your door for you.
“Do you want me to walk you up?”
You curse your heart for beating a tick faster, curse the butterflies that flutter.
“No. I’ll be okay. Thank you for today. I had fun,” you say and turn around to walk inside.
The tears finally start falling once you’re sure he can’t see you.
But he watches you wipe under your eyes as you wait for the elevator. He watches you crack your knuckles, watches you stare at the floor.
He knows you’re upset and he wants to chase after you, but he knows it’ll make things worse.
His heart thuds against his ribcage, and his thoughts race at the thought of you crying.
He doesn’t know your sadness is because of him.
But he doesn’t know what else to do. So he goes back to the shop where you were staring at the bag in the window.
It won't fix whatever is wrong, but he thinks it’ll help start the process.
An hour later, a knock on the front door sounds throughout your apartment.
Your mascara is smudged, your face is red and splotchy. You’re in an old, oversized shirt, logo faded on the back and underwear.
You pause the old romcom playing on the TV to go open the door.
When you see Jack standing there, arms behind his back, you roll your eyes.
You don’t want to see him, and you definitely don’t want him seeing you like this.
You crack the door, hiding behind it.
“What do you want Jack?” you say and you didn’t realize you could hear the tears in your voice so easily.
“Have you been crying?” Jack asks worriedly. He pushes the door open, his hockey muscles no match for yours. “What’s wrong?”
“It’s nothing, Jack.”
“I don’t believe you,” he says. He brings his hands around, setting the flowers and box he’s holding on the foyer table beside him.
He’s wrapping you in his arms before you can stop him. You don’t want to melt into him the way you do, but you can’t stop yourself from doing so.
Because as much as you want to push him away, you know no one in your life can comfort you the way Jack does.
And just as you thought you had gotten everything out, the tears come back full force and you’re sobbing into his chest.
“Shhhh, hey, hey. You’re alright. It’s okay babe,” he says into your hair, and it makes you cry even more. Because you know he doesn’t mean it in the way you want him to mean it.
After a minute, you pull out of his arms, standing back from him.
“Jack,” you croak, tears having slowed down. “Don’t do this to me. Please, don’t do this to me.”
“What do you mean?” he says, eyebrows furrowed in confusion.
“You know what I mean. You act like I’m the most important person in your life and you call me ‘babe’ and you’re kissing my head and you get me flowers and whatever the hell is in that box. And it all just fucks with my brain.”
“Y/N. Please, I love you. You know I do.”
“Do you? Because the way you looked at that blonde earlier. Man, I want you to look at me like that. I want you to look at me like you want to kiss me stupid. But you act like you love me, and then you go flirt with half the female population in New Jersey. I’m tired of the games, I’m tired of being in the running when I know I won’t come in first.”
And just like that, you’re crying again. You turn away from him, arms hugging your chest as you cry into yourself.
And suddenly you feel his hands on your shoulders, and then his lips on your cheek. And then your jawline, and then your collarbone. And you’re bracing for him to say something only friends would say to each other.
“If you aren’t in the running, then no one is in the running at all,” he says, and you’re confused. Because if it’s you, why was he talking to the blonde earlier?
“Jack, please don’t,” you say softly.
“Don’t what? I’m telling the truth baby. It’s you, it’s always been you.”
“Then why were you talking to that blonde earlier?”
“It was a mistake I shouldn’t have made. I was confused with my feelings but the second I saw you crying at the elevators, I knew. I’m sorry. I’m an idiot.”
He's kissing your neck now, right below your earlobe, and it’s driving you crazy. His hands move down to your hips, pushing you back into him. He’s pulling you closer to him and you can’t handle it.
You’re quick to turn in his hold, pushing his face back from you.
“What’s in the box?” you ask and you’re making your way to the table.
You open the top and peel back the tissue paper to reveal the black bag you were eying earlier.
“Jack. Are you serious?” you gasp.
One hand is covering your mouth and the other is holding the bag up in all its glory.
“You were eyeing it earlier, and I was gonna make a mental note to get it tomorrow and give it to you later. But after seeing you wipe the tears off of your face. I just couldn’t let you go to bed upset. I’ll forgive you for lying to me this once.”
You just look at him, eyes glistening with tears again for what feels like the millionth time tonight.
“Y/N, sweetheart. Please don’t cry. You’re breaking my heart over here,” he says, wrapping his arm around your middle from behind you, laying his head on your shoulder.
You’ve thought about having him all over you like this before, but the difference between all of those images in your mind versus now is that it feels so much better than you ever could’ve imagined.
“Thank you,” you whisper, turning to kiss his cheek softly.
He looks at you, awkwardly pulling you toward him to kiss you properly.
The kiss, however, is everything you’d imagined. It’s gentle, it’s soft. Jack kisses you like you knew he would. He’s kissing you like it’s the last thing he’ll ever do. He nips at your bottom lip, and he’s turning you around pulling you into his chest, getting you as close as possible.
And then he’s backing you into the wall, but before it can go any further, you’re pushing him back.
“As much as I appreciate this, you haven't even asked me to be your girlfriend. There’s no shot you’re seeing me naked before you ask.”
He looks down as he laughs, pulling you back into him.
“Will you, my gorgeous, gorgeous girl, be my absolutely lovely, stunning girlfriend?” he asks and now it’s your turn to laugh.
“Yes. I will,” you say, and then you’re right back to kissing him.
You always thought it was Jack at the end of the tightrope, that you’d just need to walk to him. But now you see that he was the safety net at the bottom. All you needed to do was fall.
Please do not copy, translate, or repost my work as your own!
COWBOY LUKE HUGHES x QUINN'S BEST FRIEND
MINORS DO NOT INTERACT - 18+ CONTENT BELOW CUT
— REQUEST: Can we have some more cowboy Luke? Maybe some save a horse ride a cowboy
— WARNINGS: mentions of pregnancy, daddy kink kind of, p in v, unprotected sex, bull riding
— SUMMARY: After riding the meanest bull in Texas, Luke’s celebration turns even sweeter when his girlfriend reveals he’s going to be a dad.
— WORD COUNT: 1,7K
Loud cheering spreads through the arena when the timer hits the magic number. Eight.
Eight seconds of Luke managing to hold himself on one of the worst bulls, Tornado. Luke flies through the air as he loses his hold on the bull, landing on his legs as he runs away towards the barriers.
He feels the hands of his fans clasping his shoulders as they yell at him, how happy and proud they are. But the only thing he can focus on is y/n standing with the rest of his crew, hands clasped around her mouth as she giggles, tears running down her cheeks.
She is proud of him. After months of hard work, he finally fulfills his dream. Beating the maddest bull in the whole state of Texas. After almost two years of working his way to the highest level of bull riding, he is the third man in Texas ever to beat Tornado.
As soon as the bull is inside the holding pens, Luke runs towards the area where his girlfriend and crew are waiting for him with huge grins on their lips.
“So proud of you, Luke!” Quinn clasps his hand around his shoulder, shaking with him with happiness and excitement. “The third man to beat the beast Tornado,” he says, wiping away his fake tear.
“Thanks, Quinn.”
“Man! You are the fucking beast!” Jack yells, bringing his younger brother in hug, jumping with him from excitement.
Laughing Luke pulls away from Luke, to finally face his loving and so fucking gorgeous girlfriend. Y/n’s hands are shaking from excitement as she stands in one place, watching as Luke celebrates his win.
With a few strides, he closes the distance between the two of them, immediately pressing his lips to hers with such force he almost knocks her down.
A loud shriek comes from behind her lips, but it is swallowed by Luke’s hungry lips.
She places her hands on his chest to break the kiss so she can finally speak. She fixes her eyes on his before she says quietly. “I am so proud of you, Lukey. You did amazing,” she smiles at him, moving his hand up to his cheek, caressing it. “And seeing you on that bull,” she bites her lips, her eyes a bit clouded with need or want. “Was hot,” she finishes, her lips tracing his with her thumb.
“Oh really?” Luke grins at her, his hands sliding across her naked waist. A smirk grows on his lips when he feels the slight shudder of her shoulders from his touch.
“Yeah,” she says breathlessly, her hands still on his cheeks. “So hot,” she grins, slightly grinding against his semi-hard cock, which is pressing against her lower belly.
She then looks at him from beneath her lashes before she says, “What about we save horse and ride cowboy? Huh?” Her hands slide down his chest, delicately running across his nipples to draw a low moan from him.
“That sounds like an amazing idea, y/n.” With those words, Luke throws you over his shoulder and almost runs with you to the entrance.
“Lukey,” she moans in his ear. He has his lips pressed against her neck, sucking on her delicately thin skin, right on her pulsing point. “So good,” she whimpers, trying to grind her clit against his jean-covered cock.
“I know, baby,” he whispers in her ear, kissing her earlobe in the process. “Hands up,” he says in a dominant voice, pulling away from her. Y/n locks her eyes with his, seeing the hunger and lust in his.
Seconds later, her hands are up, and her shirt is stripped down her thanks to his quick and handy hand. His hands roam the soft curves of her body, his mouth drying from the hunger he has for her.
“So fucking gorgeous, y/n,” a whisper falls from past his lips, as he lowers his head back down to her neck, sucking, already knowing that he will leave a pretty purple mark there.
“Luke,” she moans, her hands running through his hair, tugging at his strands. “More,” she whimpers, pulling at his hair to pull him away from her neck.
Immediately, she slaps her lips to his in a hungry kiss, their tongues dancing in complete harmony, as they fight for dominance. Y/n runs her hand down his shoulder, chest, until she tugs at the hem of his shirt, urging him to take it off.
In one swift move, he rips his shirt off, leaving both of them half-naked. Their hands roam each of their bodies as their tongues fight yet again for dominance.
“Lie down and spread your legs.”
Obeying, she crawls up the bed, lying down on it, spreading her legs, the skirt riding up her thighs, revealing her pink, ride-cowboy panties.
“Teasing, baby?” he smirks, lowering down on his knees. He grips her thighs, scooting her to him, y/n yelps in surprise, her heart racing from the fact that his mouth is so close to her pussy.
“No,” she breaths out, scooting even closer, moaning when she feels his hot breath on her pussy.
“Take in a deep breath, baby,” he murmurs against her thigh, grazing her thin skin with his sharp teeth. “I’m going to make you come so many times that when I’m done with you, you will have nothing to produce.
“Luke, no, please, I have my gynecologist appointment tomorrow.” y/n shakes her head, sitting up on her elbows.
Furrowing his brows, he sits down on his heels. “You said nothing about that to me.”
“I know,” she mumbles quietly, closing her legs, heat coating her cheeks, and her nervousness grows from the thing she is going to say next. “It was supposed to be a surprise,” she murmurs, clasping her hand around his mouth to keep him from speaking. “You are going to be cowboy daddy,” she finishes, waiting for his reaction, when she pulls her hand away.
Abruptly, Luke pulls away from her, falling down on his ass. His eyes are wide open as he repeats the words in his mind. Baby daddy. Baby daddy. Baby daddy. Baby daddy. Baby daddy. Baby daddy. Baby daddy.
He is going to be a baby daddy. He is going to have a child with you. Love of his life.
“You aren’t joking, right?” he asks, softly, tears already forming in his eyes at the thought.
“No,” she shakes her head, scooting closer to him, to grab his cheeks in her palms. “We are going to be baby parents,” she smiles at him, her eyes filling with tears just like his.
“Parents, we are going to be parents,” he giggles, tears now streaming down his cheeks as he pulls y/n down to his lap and presses a salty chaste kiss to her lips. “Fuck baby, I love you so much.”
Grinning in the kiss, y/n leans more into him, her bra-covered tits grazing his chest. Moans leave their mouths at the sensation of the friction.
“I need you, Luke,” y/n moans, neediness and hunger clear in her voice. “Now,” she commands. She feels the heat inside of her growing when his hands slide down to her ass, squeezing hard enough to make her yelp.
“Come on, mama, papa needs to take care of you,” Luke says in a teasing tone, as he picks her up and gently lays her on the bed, as if she is already nine months pregnant.
He stands before the bed, his chest glistening with droplets of sweat. His jeans hang low on his hips, revealing his Calvin Klein boxers together with the strand of hair running from his belly button to under the fabric, hiding the one thing y/n needs right now. His cock.
“Luke now,” y/n demands, spreading her legs as she pulls down the remaining clothes from her body, leaving her completely naked. Not wasting a second, he strips down, crawling onto the bed to her, hovering over her gorgeous body.
“Fucking gorgeous,” he whispers, his fingers caressing her cheek. “I am going to fuck you.”
“Yes, please!” y/n almost shouts in his ear when he thrusts his cock deep inside her. A choked moan leaves her lips at the feeling of him this deep inside her.
“Fuck Luke!”
“Hold onto me, baby girl, I am gonna fuck you so hard you won’t remember your name,” he growls, thrusting his hips harder and faster, as he chases their orgasms.
“Yes, daddy,” with those words, Luke thrust into her like a madman, earning almost pornographic moans from y/n.
Y/n’s hands are tugging at the roots of Luke’s hair while his lips are wrapped around her nipple, sucking and licking the brown nub into his mouth.
Shock waves run through y/n’s body as she slowly reaches her orgasm. The feeling of Luke's fingers grazing her tanned, sweaty skin, the sense of his wet tongue on her nipple and the depth of his cock, is what seconds later sends her over the edge. Her orgasm leaves her completely drenched.
But Luke doesn’t stop, he keeps thrusting, chasing his own orgasm while he rides her out. Seconds later, he reaches his own orgasm, cumming deep inside of her.
Heavy pants are leaving their mouths as he collapses completely on y/n, his heavy, hot body covering hers.
As if something strikes Luke, he jumps off her, “We need to prepare the nursery and buy her a pony and…and co-” he starts to yap, but is stopped by y/n’s hand.
“Shh,” she shushes him, her hands massaging his tensed shoulders. “We have got a lot of time. I found out two days ago.”
“I am going to be dad,” he whispers after, while they stand there in a hug. “There is a tiny baby inside of you, y/n. Little version of you and me.” Tears stream down his cheeks from the happiness he is experiencing right now.
A smile forms on her lips when she feels the wetness of his tears on her cheeks. She is so happy that his reaction is like this. She is happy to see him this excited about the baby, just like she is, because she has no idea what she would do if he reacted differently.
“We need to tell our parents and my brothers,” he whispers, his hand tightening around her waist. “They are going to be so happy about it.”
Nuzzling deep into his chest, she exhales, happiness overtaking her body. They are going to be parents of their little cowboy prince or princess.
Summary: “oh my god. you’re not saying anything! that’s, like, bad, right? you would be talking if it was negative.” – or the one where your curse has decided to stay in the form of a positive pregnancy test.
Pairing: quinn hughes x afab! reader with she/her pronouns
Word count: 5.4k
Warnings: 18+ Minors DNI ★ eventual smut in future parts. read chapter specific warnings. minimal use of Y/N. for this part: suggestive themes, accidental pregnancy, pregnancy tests, light talk of abortion.
A/N: thank you for the response on the last part <33 i'm having so much fun writing this. please continue to tell me what you think! i'm also up for suggestions about what to feature in this series, if you have any specific ideas.
PART TWO | Under the lonely night.
Kelly’s bathroom was aggressively cheerful for what you were going through. Butter-yellow tiles with white accents. You didn’t know what sort of landlord had agreed to that. She had baby pink towels and a bath mat shaped like a rainbow. On the wall, a framed quote cheerfully instructed you to Wash Your Worries Away.
You wanted to punch it. Or someone.
Preferably someone with a Y chromosome and an unfortunate knack for timing.
You’d stumbled into Kelly’s apartment directly after you’d gotten off work. Crash landed in her arms, really—with tears in your eyes and a pharmacy bag filled with more pregnancy tests than were necessary.
You thought back to Quinn’s bathroom. A couple weeks ago by now. The Italian marble. The morning light. The heated floor. You’d been less scared there—safer, even—because back then, it had still felt like a punchline. Like a mistake that wouldn’t stick. A stupid story you’d laugh about later, probably over drinks with Kelly: Remember when I thought I could’ve been pregnant by that hockey guy you work with?
But you couldn’t joke now. The five minutes ticking away rapidly on Kelly’s phone screen weren’t funny. Like a time bomb you’d accidentally assembled yourself.
You sat on the bathroom floor, back pressed against the tub, staring at the little white pee stick on the counter like it might suddenly grow fangs and bite you. The pharmacy bag it had come from was crumpled beside you, like the sad carcass of a plan that had already failed. At least you could use it to vomit in when your death sentence was inevitably presented—because realistically, that might be the only reaction you were capable of.
The pill hadn’t worked. You knew that. Some deep, petty part of you suspected it before you’d even swallowed it. Never once in your life had you wished for your period to come this desperately, yet it never showed.
Kelly was sitting cross-legged on the floor in front of you, the paper slip of instructions for the test in her lap. She kept rereading it, not because she didn’t know what it said, but because it let her avoid meeting your eyes. If she didn’t make this too real, maybe it wouldn’t be.
“Are you sure it’s not too early to tell?” you asked, your voice pitched high with panic. You could hear how pathetic you sounded and still couldn’t stop yourself. Your hands twisted in your lap, clammy and unhelpful.
Kelly tilted her head. “How late did you say your period is?”
You swallowed hard. “Like… a week?”
“Yeah, no. This should work,” she said, holding up the instructions. “It says two weeks after your ovulation or by the time you’ve missed a period.”
You’d feared it ever since you thought of the possibility. Trying to do the math in your head of what date you last had your period and on what date you and Quinn had…fucked. There was no need to be romantic. You weren’t good at statistics, but this felt like some huge improbability that had miraculously happened anyway.
You blinked at Kelly, slowly. “So I was definitely ovulating when it happened.”
Kelly’s face did all the talking. Yes, you absolute feral dumbass. She’d done the same mental calculation—Quinn had wandered straight through your fertility window like it was an open house. Couples trying for a baby would kill for that kind of precision. You wanted to strangle him for it.
You let your head drop back against the tub with a dull thunk and stared at the ceiling. “Right. Because that’s how Plan B works. It’s not like… a baby deletion button. It just stops the egg from getting released.”
“Yep,” Kelly confirmed. “But if you’ve already ovulated…”
You exhaled slowly, the breath escaping your lips like a deflating balloon. “Then the sperm gets to do its little romantic waltz with the egg.”
Kelly’s lips twitched into a slight smile, only somewhat amused. “Like Romeo and Juliet on the balcony.” She gestured vaguely toward your stomach with a raised eyebrow. “Except the balcony is your uterus.”
You groaned. “I hate biology. I hate it so much.”
It was almost like you could’ve guessed what Kelly would say next before she did it. Because it was what any sane person would’ve thought about you if they knew your situation. A sense of…common sense, which had apparently taken a detour around you.
“You should really be better at knowing your own cycle, Bubbles,” Kelly said, slightly under her breath.
She knew you’d react to it anyhow.
“I have never needed to before!” you snapped, too loudly, your voice bouncing between the tiled walls. “Okay? Don’t blame me!”
You’d never actually had unprotected sex before. Like, ever. Hell, you’d barely had sex at all—risky or otherwise. Your entire collection of one-night stands could be counted on two fingers. Seriously, just two. And your total body count? Well, that fit comfortably on the rest of that same hand. And those encounters? Ancient history. Dusty relics from college. Quinn was the wild card—freshly minted just weeks ago—but even then, the point stood clear: you were a walking, talking cautionary tale of protected and boring sex.
Kelly held up her hands in mock surrender. “It’s hard to blame someone else for this.”
“Oh, please. It takes two!” you argued. “Blame the dick who caused it instead.”
She let out a little giggle in surprise. “Bubbles, was that a pun?”
You muttered something unrepeatable and turned back toward the counter, where the stick was still silently ruining your life. In your head, you started bargaining with the universe. You swore to become a better person. You promised to stop texting divorced dads on Tinder when you were drunk. You would floss. You would drink more water. You’d delete TikTok for a month if that damn stick would just come up blank.
Kelly’s phone buzzed softly. The timer had hit zero.
Neither of you moved. The sound of some Apple ringtone filled the bathroom, loud and intrusive. You could feel Kelly’s gaze, steady and searching, as though she could will you into meeting her eyes.
She waited for you to react—for you to move or say something. But you stayed frozen—spine stiff, legs cramped from sitting too long on the cold floor. Stuck in pure shock.
Finally, Kelly said, “Do you want me to look?”
“No,” you whispered.
She waited another beat, then stood up anyway, because of course she did. Kelly never let you stew alone, even when you wanted to. You didn’t watch her. You still didn’t move. You just sat there braced like a building before an earthquake, gripping your own knees until your knuckles ached.
Her silence was immediate and very loud.
You risked peeking up at her. “Oh my god. You’re not saying anything! That’s, like, bad, right? You would be talking if it was negative. Say something!”
Kelly still didn’t say anything. She just picked up the test and turned around to crouch in front of you. She took your hands in hers for a second and then placed the test into your shaking palms.
Two pink lines.
Two tiny, parallel, perfect little life-ruiners.
For a second, everything went quiet again. Then the panic hit twofold, like a marching band parading through your brain, slamming cymbals around. You couldn’t get a word out. You couldn’t even cry. You just stared at it, wiping your thumb over the lines to see if they would disappear.
Expecting. With child. What a stupid thing to be.
You thought there’d be some dramatic swell of understanding when this moment came, but instead you just felt hollow. A hollow that reached bone-deep.
Kelly scrambled to sit down beside you, ungraciously bumping her legs into the side of the bathtub. Then she pulled you into the harshest hug you’ve ever felt, comforting to the core even through your numb state.
“This doesn’t need to be the end of the world, Bubbles. Frankly, it’s definitely not the end of the world,” she whispered into your hair. Her hand found the back of your head, rubbing slowly.
Then why the hell did it feel like it?
“If you don’t want it, then we can easily figure that out,” Kelly continued to comfort. “Clean slate. It’ll be like it never even happened.”
Your chest rose and fell against her shoulder, but still—no tears. You couldn’t seem to produce any. Inside of you, the anxiety brewed like an attack, but it only showed through your struggled breathing.
“Or,” she went on, “if you do want it, you’ve got me, your mom, your nana. Just imagine their reaction. And you’ve got stability. You have a safe home and a job. You have everything that a kid would need to be raised perfectly healthy and sustainably.”
Kelly pulled back slightly, peering into your face. “You’re not crying. Do you want to? Should we cry?”
Her tone was light, but there was an undercurrent—you could feel her trying to coax you toward some kind of emotional release, trying to keep you from shutting down completely. You had the absurd urge to laugh, because only Kelly would offer to cry with you like it was a group activity. She was trying her hardest to get you to smile—to see some light. You didn’t think you’d ever be able to appreciate her enough.
You blew out a long, uneven sigh, marked like punctuation. “I have to call him,” you said flatly. “I have to tell the stupid hockey player.”
“His name is Quinn,” she corrected with mock patience, “and he’s actually pretty great. Just… not when his team loses the most important game of the season.” She paused, then brightened, as if this next bit might help. “Did I mention he’s the captain?”
You silently stared at her, deadpan.
“What?” she defended. “Leadership! You need that in a dad.”
You tipped your head, daring to look her in the eye. “What’s he like? And I mean your honest opinion, not your hockey opinion.”
Kelly gave you a look like she couldn’t decide whether to be annoyed or concerned. “Oh, god, were you really that drunk? You should at least have some idea of what he’s like.”
“He was drunk and horny when I met him! That was enough to get me into bed, apparently.”
As pathetic as it sounded, it was also very much true.
Kelly winced but pressed on. “I wasn’t lying when I said he’s great. But I don’t know how he’d react to… this.”
“To this?” you repeated, gesturing to the test still in your hand. “To having a baby with a stranger he had bad sex with once?”
“That’s like asking how someone would react to a bomb going off,” she said with a shrug. “You can’t predict it. But I don’t think he’s the type to make you feel worse than you already do. And he won’t freak out. He’s… weirdly calm. Even when shit hits the fan.”
You narrowed your eyes, unconvinced.
“Oldest brother of three,” she added. “Great relationship with his parents. If he wasn’t a hockey player, he’d be husband material.”
You let your head fall back again, trying to hit Kelly’s chest but mostly just boinking it against the bathtub. “I’m going to a doctor first,” you said. “Before I tell him. I need an old lady in scrubs to confirm this horror before I make a fool out of myself in front of him again.”
“A solid plan.” Kelly patted your knee. “And I really think you should cry before you see him, otherwise your waterworks might surprise you.”
You could only scoff at her, a weak little puff of air that didn’t even qualify as a laugh. She was probably right, though. The emotional fallout you were about to have could power a small city. Still, just to torture yourself for the millionth time, you lifted the test back into view. The plastic stared back at you without mercy. The lines didn’t fade, didn’t blur, didn’t so much as flinch. They just sat there, quiet and confident, like they had known all along.
⋆.˚𖦹⋆✮⋆.˚ ⋆.˚𖦹⋆✮⋆.˚ ⋆.˚𖦹⋆✮⋆.˚ ⋆.˚𖦹⋆✮⋆.˚
You had practiced what to say to Quinn so many times by now that you were starting to feel like a deranged one-woman play. But now, when you were watching the floor numbers light up one by one on the panel in his elevator, your brain was blank.
Hi, Quinn. How are you?
No, too casual.
Hi, Quinn. We need to talk.
God, too ominous.
Hi, Quinn. I’m pregnant with your baby, and I think I want to keep it, but I don’t know if that’s society’s pressure on women to become mothers talking or if I actually want it because it would be fulfilling for me.
Yeah, that would work perfectly.
The truth was, you’d been moving through life on autopilot since you found out. Numb. No tears. No screaming. Just this eerie, suspended version of yourself, as if a freight train had hit you and your body had decided the only solution was to walk it off.
With every ding the elevator made, your stomach gave another slow roll.
By the time you entered the right floor, the strongest urge you had wasn’t to knock on his door—it was to march straight back into the elevator, press E, and then get on a plane to Alaska. You could change your name, take up dogsledding, and never have to explain this to anyone. The baby would look adorable in a snowsuit anyway.
But your hand still rose. You still knocked. Because you had to.
You hadn’t seen Quinn since you’d all but stormed out of here last time—straight to a pharmacy, determined to erase the mistake you’d made together. The same mistake that now, according to the cheerful pregnancy app your midwife had recommended, was roughly the size of a single green pea.
He hadn’t texted you. Not surprising—he didn’t even have your number. And even if he had, you doubted he would’ve used it. He probably had forgotten about the mistake days later. Or maybe he’d just assumed the pill had done its job, because the weeks passed and you never told him otherwise.
Until this morning. When you asked if he’d be home tonight and said you needed to tell him something you didn’t want to send in a text. Talk about being ominous. Or painfully obvious. Probably both.
Quinn answered the door moments after you knocked, wearing a plain hoodie and joggers. Less put together than you’d ever seen him, and you’d seen him naked. His hair was damp, like he’d just showered. He blinked at you, and in the pause, something unreadable passed over his face.
“Hi,” you said, too quietly.
“Uh, come in,” he replied, stepping aside.
You crossed the threshold and tried not to feel anything as the smell of him—clean, warm, a little woody—wrapped around you like a reminder. After taking off your shoes in pure habit and putting your jacket on a hook, you took slow steps into his apartment. The folder of papers you’d been clutching since you left your car was still held tightly to your chest.
The last time you were here, your entire life had still made some kind of sense. Drunk you had most likely been excited to be in a rich guy’s apartment, to be in his bed. The hardwood floors, the absurd view, the impossibly adult furniture—it had all felt like a beautiful blur. A very attractive man’s very expensive castle. Now, it was just the place where you’d made a very complicated mistake.
“Thank you for meeting with me,” you said, moving to his living room but not sitting down yet. Your voice trembled, despite your rehearsals. “I know we left it kind of awkwardly last time…”
Quinn gave a short nod, his gaze skittering away as he tugged at the hem of his sleeve, sitting down on the edge of the couch. His knee bounced once before stilling.
Your feet felt flat against the floor, standing straight up before him. He looked up at you with those big eyes you still couldn’t name a color for, and the lightning tonight continued to make it impossible to determine. He didn’t have to speak for you to know what was running through his head—that cold, creeping suspicion that the thing he’d feared was true. Because there was no other reason you’d be standing here.
“You’ve already figured out why I’m here, haven’t you?”
This time, his nod was slower. And he looked like he’d rather be anywhere else.
You set the folder on the coffee table, hands careful, not wanting it to comically slip onto the floor. “Well. Here’s the proof. From a midwife. I took a test at home first, but wanted to be a hundred percent sure before I told you.”
His brow furrowed as he skimmed the first page, eyes flickering back and forth as he seemed to read your test result over and over again.
Positive. Positive. Positive.
Kelly had called it—calm, even when the world tilted sideways. Quinn didn’t flinch, didn’t curse, didn’t move a muscle as the reality settled.
You kept talking before your courage had time to run. “It turns out that Plan B pills only work if you haven’t ovulated, and I was ovulating when we did it so…”
Quinn looked up sharply. “You’re telling me we perfectly timed it? Like, biologically?”
You let out a weak, humorless laugh. “Yeah, basically.”
A silence stretched. You hated how loud your heartbeat sounded in your ears.
“The due date is the 12th of January,” you added, because facts felt safer than feelings. “And—” you gestured at another page “—there’s info here about paternity tests, next steps, all that.”
He glanced at the page, then back at you, almost tilting his head. “Do I… Do we need one of those?”
“Uh, no. I thought that was obvious.” Then, because your mouth always betrayed you, you added, “Do I need to worry about some sort of sister-wife situation?”
That earned you the smallest smile. “No, you’re fine.”
The words barely settled between you before the silence threatened to take over again, heavy and awkward, like an unwanted third guest in the room. Maybe there actually was an unwanted third person in the room already, not even metaphorical.
How many times would you need to call the baby unwanted or a mistake for it to settle? For it to be true? Because every time you did it, something hurt inside of you. Close to your chest, cracking like ribs breaking.
You finally decided to sit down beside him on the couch, making sure to leave a solid two feet of no-man’s-land between you.
Quinn rested one forearm on his thigh, his other hand still gripping the folder loosely, fingers tapping against it once, twice, three times—like he was testing the rhythm of his own composure.
You cleared your throat. “I, uh—I used to be on birth control. Since I was like sixteen. But I went off them a couple months ago, which is probably why drunk me didn’t think to… you know… use a condom.”
Your voice came out smaller than you’d intended, the admission carrying a strange mix of shame and defensiveness. You studied the room around you instead of looking at Quinn. Clean lines, muted colors, the very obvious absence of anything personal. He didn’t live here; he just was here. The grey clouds moving outside the windows in the bleak spring weather turned into the most interesting thing.
“You don’t have to apologize,” Quinn said, gently. “It’s just as much my fault for…”
Your head tipped, eyes flicking to his, and you finished for him flatly, too tired to sugarcoat anything. “Sticking it in raw?”
A faint grimace pulled at his mouth, but he didn’t look away. “For not asking about protection. But sure. That too.”
You let out a breath that almost passed for a laugh if it hadn’t felt so hollow. “I just don’t want you to think that I—” You stopped, searching for the right words, your teeth catching on your lower lip. “—like… baby-trapped you or something.”
His brow furrowed immediately. “I don’t think that.” His voice was firmer now, carrying a note of certainty you hadn’t expected. “From my vague memories, I think I’m more to blame, anyway.”
The corner of his mouth lifted just slightly, self-deprecating. And against your better judgment, something in you wanted to smile back.
Quinn didn’t talk unless you did. You’d picked up on that in the short, strange history you shared. Maybe it was his way of staying calm, buying himself time to think before anything left his mouth. Maybe it was because he knew that once he said something, you’d measure it, pick it apart, file it away. Whatever the reason, the silence was punishing. Without your restless shifting against the couch cushions, you might’ve sworn the room had gone entirely still.
“Quinn…” you said, finally. “What do you think we should do?”
His jaw tightened. “It’s not really up to me. I mean, we’re strangers, and it doesn’t seem like you like me much after last time—”
“Hey.” You leaned forward, quick to cut him off. “I’m sorry for calling you mediocre. I was… upset. And you were acting so unbothered, it made me feel—” you sighed. “I’m sorry.”
He gave a small nod, accepting it.
“But it’s not like either of us was planning more than a one-time thing, Quinn,” you went on. “You were drunk and beat up after missing the playoffs, and I was drunk and sad for… other reasons, and Kelly said we’d be the perfect match to relieve each other’s frustration—”
“Does Kelly know about this?” He interrupted you to ask.
“She’s my best friend. She helped with the tests and all that,” you quickly answered, unsure why that mattered to him.
But it got a reaction. Not just a flicker of discomfort—something tighter. He shifted forward, elbows braced on his knees, like the news physically dragged him to the edge of his seat.
“Oh, you’re worried about this becoming public…” you slowly realized.
“It’s not that I’d be embarrassed, I promise,” he rushed to say. “But I just want it under control, and Kelly works closely with the media, and… this could be messy.”
“You mean because you’re the prince of Vancouver?”
“Because I don’t want a viral pregnancy scandal before we even know what we’re doing,” he said, voice strong, deliberate. “We just had a fucking terrible season. One headline about me knocking someone up after missing the playoffs and—” He stopped himself, exhaling through his nose like the rest of that sentence didn’t need to be heard.
It stung, hearing it framed that way—like the headline came first, and you were the messy little footnote beneath it. Maybe that was why he stayed quiet until you dragged the words out of him. You hadn’t considered that before. Even Kelly, with her content-brain, hadn’t mentioned it.
“Oh, god…” You sank back into the couch, the sigh slipping out of you. “We really are strangers.”
Because the truth was, you didn’t know him—not the man beside you, not the order of things he cared to protect. And he didn’t know you either. Right now, the two of you were just orbiting the same disaster from opposite ends.
Quinn didn’t notice your hurt. Or at least he didn’t comment on it. He took your words more literally.
He looked at you more intently for a moment, studying you with curiosity. “I don’t even know your surname, or what you do for a living, or where you’re from. How old are you, even?”
You blinked, feeling absurdly like you were being interviewed. “Uhh… Y/L/N, twenty-four years old, paralegal, born and raised here in the city.”
He gave a single, slow nod, as if cataloging that away. “Hughes, twenty-five years old, defenseman, born in Florida, raised in Toronto and Michigan.”
You laughed before you could even think of stopping it from escaping. “Florida? I’m having a baby with a Florida man?”
The corner of Quinn’s mouth twitched—almost a smile, like the line had caught him off guard—but it didn’t last. His expression shifted, the light in his eyes narrowing into something assessing. It was softer than the tension and worry he’d been holding onto earlier, but somehow more dangerous.
“So…” He sounded almost cautious. “You want to keep it?”
He had marked your words.
“That’s not what I said—”
“You look like you want to keep it,” he simply countered, almost concluding.
It was maddening—because he wasn’t wrong. And the worst part was that realization didn’t make you feel strong or principled or maternal. It made you feel pathetic.
“My grandma had my mother at sixteen, and my mother had me at nineteen,” you said, forcing the words out in a fragile rush. “I’m practically a spinster to them. I’ve been thinking of other ways of becoming a mother, and they’re not… the brightest. I know I’ve got time, I just—”
He wouldn’t understand it no matter how many words you used to describe it.
Because how could you explain this part? The dry, brittle feeling that had taken root years ago and never left. That long, humiliating stretch where you’d been half (fully) in love with Marcus, your coworker. A hotshot new associate, who had coincidentally relocated to your Toronto office mere weeks before your night with Quinn.
But that didn’t mean that the time you’d wasted on him hadn’t still passed.
Three years. You’d wasted three years on being hopelessly stuck on Marcus. Stuck on the quiet, stubborn affection that had seemed to grow in the little spaces between shared lunches and late nights at the office. He always found reasons to keep you close to him, but never in the way that you wanted. He’d flirt just enough to keep you hoping, then talk about dates with other women while you nodded along like it didn’t hollow you out every time.
Three years of nothing. Three years of feeling invisible and unworthy, like your skin and your laugh and your body were never even desirable to begin with. There was nothing as fundamentally ruining for your own personal sense of attractiveness as realizing the person you’ve built up to be perfect for you has never—not once—pictured you naked. Or dreamt of kissing you. Simply holding your hand.
Yeah, you couldn’t explain that to Quinn.
You swallowed hard. “You slept with a chronically single, sexless, and off-putting girl is what I’m saying, Quinn.”
His brows drew together. Not pitying, not mocking, just… registering. “How long had it been? Since, I mean—”
“Since college, so, uh… three years?”
You weren’t even sure how the conversation had drifted here—or why he needed to know how utterly unwanted you’d been. Maybe you and the little green pea currently renting space in your uterus had that in common. Neither of you exactly planned for. Neither particularly asked for. Maybe you could bond over that. And, knowing yourself, you’d probably been the one to steer the topic right into this ditch.
There was a beat of silence before his mouth quirked—just barely, but enough to tell you he wasn’t going to let this one slide. “And all you got was something drunken and mediocre? With a pregnancy to top it off?”
You gave a humorless laugh, happy that he didn’t get stuck on the subject, happy he didn’t ask why you’d suddenly decided to end your dry spell by sleeping with him. You didn’t have an acceptable answer for that.
“Yeah, something like that.”
Quinn didn’t look away, didn’t retreat into that quiet, neutral mask he’d worn earlier. Instead, his voice came steady—measured, but without the polite detachment you’d half expected.
“I’m probably not done freaking out about this,” he said, “but if you want to keep it, I’ll be by your side the entire time.”
So he had been freaking out. His panic took the shape of silence. Good to know.
“The whole nine months?” you joked.
“No,” he said without hesitation, and for a split second your stomach dropped—until he kept going. “Like eighteen years. Or whatever. I haven’t thought about it like that before, but maybe I’m conservative in that sense. A kid deserves two parents.”
The words sat between you, heavier than they had any right to be. You’d been raised by a single parent. Your mom had done it all by herself, with the help of your nana. You knew exactly what that kind of love could do, but also what it cost.
Now, did Quinn know that? Absolutely not. So why did it feel so targeted?
“So you want kids,” you asked slowly, “even like… hypothetically?”
His answer came without pause. “Yeah, I do.”
Your throat felt tight, but you pushed the next question out anyway. “Do you think this could work out? With us being virtually strangers and not being a… couple or whatever?”
“We’d have to make it work. Force it to work.” He met your gaze squarely, like he wasn’t just humoring you, like he’d already decided on something.
You made a sound that was half a laugh and half a sob, your chest aching. “Quinn…”
Something in you cracked wide open. The tears you hadn’t been able to summon for days came all at once—hot, unstoppable, flooding over before you could even turn away. You bent forward, hands covering your face, the sounds leaving your throat jagged and uneven. Your whole body tensed with it, like a lightning strike through your chest and spine.
You felt the couch shift as Quinn moved, the warmth of him suddenly beside you, and then his arm was around your shoulders—steady, not too tight, just there.
“You can do it. We’ve got this,” he said softly.
You lost track of time like that—folded into yourself, buried in your palms, the sound of your own sobs filling your ears until they blurred into something dull and distant. It wasn’t pretty crying, either. It was a runny nose, wet sleeves, a hiccup that made you choke halfway through breathing.
Quinn didn’t say much more. Didn’t try to shush you or fix it or hand you a tissue like you were a leaky faucet to be dealt with. He just sat there, solid and still, his arm a steady line of warmth along your back. The occasional slow rub of his palm between your shoulder blades wasn’t exactly comforting in the way it needed to be—it was more grounding, reminding you you were still here, still in your body, not floating away into a state of anxious paralysis.
Kelly had been right. She always was. You should’ve forced yourself to cry before you told Quinn. Maybe you could’ve spared yourself the embarrassment of him seeing snot run from your nose.
Eventually, your breaths evened into shaky inhales, shaky exhales. Your chest hurt, your throat was raw, and you felt… empty. Not the bad kind of empty, though. More like the first moment of a power outage, when the noise stops and you realize just how loud the world really is.
“M’ sorry,” you mumbled.
“You don’t have to be,” Quinn said quietly.
You risked a glance at him. His expression wasn’t pity—not quite sympathy, either. Just… there. Present in a way that made you uneasy because it was too intimate for two people who still didn’t know each other’s birthdays.
“It’s a lot,” he added, almost to himself. “Even for me. And I’m not the one carrying it.”
Something in that sentence loosened another knot in you. You huffed out a weak laugh, and it came without bitterness this time.
“Do you really want to make this work?” you whispered.
“Yeah,” he said, simple as that. “I’m not saying it’ll be easy. But yeah. We can do it.”
And for reasons you couldn’t quite name, you didn’t not believe him. That tiny loophole of faith was enough to quiet your brain—at least until reality inevitably came crashing back to remind you how impossible this all was.
But in that moment, you let him believe in it, and you let yourself almost believe in him.
thank you for reading!
please tell me what you think, my asks are always open ★
also a reminder that you can send in suggestions for ideas/scenes you think could fit into this series!
Summary: “I guess I’ll take a morning-after pill and then pray to a god I don’t believe in.” – or the one where the universe curses you for having a drunken one-night stand with some hockey player, apparently.
Pairing: quinn hughes x afab! reader with she/her pronouns
Word count: 3.8k
Warnings: 18+ Minors DNI ★ eventual smut in future parts. read chapter specific warnings. minimal use of Y/N. for this part: mature/suggestive themes, heavily implied smut while under the influence, accidental pregnancy, a slightly self-hating reader and a clueless quinn.
A/N: as of now i have 10 parts planned for this, but i wanted to post this first to see if anyone is vibing with the very original, never done before concept. please tell me what you think! ★
PART ONE | all we seem to do is talk about sex.
You woke to Vancouver’s bright early spring sun violating your corneas through uncovered windows. Way too much light. Definitely more than your little apartment ever managed, even on its best-behaved summer day.
Through half-squinted eyes, you tried to make sense of it. All you could see was sky—pale, ridiculous, postcard-blue sky—pouring through what appeared to be a wall made entirely of windows. Big, floor-to-ceiling, skyscraper kind of windows.
This was sooo not your apartment.
It took a solid thirty seconds for your brain to reboot.
White, crisp sheets. A mattress so big it could probably fit four grown adults. King-sized. Meanwhile, you had been lucky to fit a full-sized one in your own bedroom.
And then there was the smell. Clean, yes. But not home. This was that generic-cleaning-service smell. Expensive detergent. There was no trace of the floral softener, which your grandma, mom, and you, by bloodline obligation, swore by. The jasmine-scented fraud of a liquid that probably wore out your clothes but smelled like nostalgia in a bottle.
And then you felt it. The arm.
Heavy. Warm. Annoyingly draped across your stomach like it belonged there. (It didn’t). No matter how large the bed was, you were cuddling the arm like you were conjoined.
An arm that very much belonged to a man who you… could not, for the life of you, place. Name? Gone. Face? Blurry at best.
You didn’t dare turn your head, but you had this vague, tequila-filtered memory of dark, slightly-too-long hair and broad, hockey player shoulders.
Oh. Shit. Right.
Kelly had invited you out last night to mourn that the hockey team she did social media managing for hadn’t made it to the playoffs (whatever that now meant). And somehow, against all odds and your usual off-putting ways, you had apparently ended up in bed with one of the players.
That didn’t sound like you. At all. But then again, there had been tequila involved. You knew that.
Even now, you could practically smell it sweating out of your pores, oozing regret and agave syrup. And the headache—no, the skull-crushing inevitability of a migraine—was already revving up, just waiting to hit you like a slapshot to the face.
Huh. A hockey metaphor. Maybe you were still drunk.
Could you make a run for it? Could you be that girl—the one who has a one-night stand and then vanishes into the mist, never to be heard from again? Well… there was a first time for everything.
Except his arm had other plans. That warm, heavy thing was less like an arm and more like a very muscly seatbelt holding you hostage by the waist.
You shifted, slow-motion stealth, until you could tilt your head just enough to actually see him. Yep. Your tequila flashback was spot-on: dark hair, almost curly, a tousled mess falling across his forehead. He was still blissfully asleep, mouth slightly open, lashes unfairly long for someone who clearly didn’t even know what a lash curler was. And there, smack dab in the center of one very pink, very round cheek—a birthmark. Or a mole. You couldn’t remember the difference. Maybe there wasn’t one.
At least he was pretty.
Or… hot. Was that the noun that men preferred?
Shame he was a hockey player. And hockey players didn’t have personalities, did they? Other than shoot puck, score goal, punch anyone in the way.
So basically: a straight man in the twenty-first century. He probably owned an NFT. One of those ugly monkeys. And he definitely didn’t put the toilet seat down. Or separate colors from whites when he did laundry. You could tell. Just from his annoyingly pretty, sleeping face.
The sheets were slung dangerously low on his hips, but you weren’t going to look. You were not going to look. Even though he was still naked. If there was one thing drunken you had done right, it was to put your underwear and t-shirt back on before falling asleep. Or maybe he hadn’t even bothered to take them off of you last night.
Nope. You were going to get the hell out of here. Preferably without him—or his stupid muscles—ever knowing.
But of course, the second you started to sit up, he stirred. His arm, still heavy as a sandbag, flopped into your lap like it was trying to guilt-trip you into staying. You didn’t look at him. You just yanked yourself upright, a little too fast for someone who was very much hungover. Little white sparkles danced across your vision like your brain was glitching, and for a second, the whole room blurred out.
When it came back into focus, you scanned your surroundings.
Clean. Minimal. Borderline sterile.
Not minimalist in a cool, curated way. Just… lacking personality. Sparse. Like a very expensive Airbnb owned by someone with zero emotional attachment to furniture.
Your jeans and shoes were still on the floor by your feet. You wouldn’t have to walk home naked; that was always something.
“You leavin’ already?”
His voice was low and gravelly—still soaked in sleep. It made something in your stomach flip, and you immediately told it to knock that shit off.
Fuckfuckfuck.
“Bathroom,” you said, fast and bright, like someone who wasn’t panicking at all. You heard him mumble something in return as he shifted under the covers, but you were already halfway to the ensuite.
Because of course this place had an ensuite.
You closed the door with a thud and stared at your own reflection in the mirror. Tired eyes not really grasping what they were looking at first.
Last night’s makeup had turned into this morning’s horror show. Nude streaks of concealer had settled into every fine line on your face, making you look like a clay sculpture halfway through drying. Mascara had flaked under your eyes and smudged all the way down your cheeks.
You hoped those watery eyes had been from… well, pleasure. From the kind of sex that could bring tears to a person’s eyes.
But, if you were being honest with yourself—and unfortunately, the mirror was—you had probably cried because you were either laughing too hard… or just a little drunk-sad.
The usual.
Only then did you actually take in the bathroom.
His ensuite bathroom was… enormous when you finally looked around. You could’ve parked a car in there. A nice car, too, not your little hatchback from 2012. Marble. Everywhere. Italian, most likely. Counters, floors, walls—like you’d accidentally walked into the lobby of a fancy hotel.
And a plant.
Wait.
Who has a plant in their bathroom? Scratch that, what straight guy has a plant in their bathroom that is still green and alive?
Best case scenario: his mother had put it there. Worst case? He had a girlfriend, and you were now a home wrecker.
No, Kelly wouldn’t have set you up with someone who was already in a relationship. She might’ve had questionable taste in just about everything, but not in morals. Still, if only you could remember something more from last night—anything besides tequila shots and vague impressions of a moody, yet pretty hockey player who for some reason wanted to have sex with you.
A dopamine hit, most likely. You’d been an available girl. Not a dream girl, not a future girlfriend. Just something to get his mind off missing the playoffs. (You really had to ask Kelly what the fuck that actually meant).
You sat down to pee on a toilet whose lid you didn’t have to open, because, well, it already was. Men, your preconceived notions were always correct about men.
You probably hadn’t peed after having sex yesterday, so maybe karma for your drunken endeavors would be a stinging UTI arriving in a couple of days. Could you get a UTI after having protected sex? Wait—had it even been protected?
You reached down to wipe, still halfway lost in thought.
And that’s when it hit you.
It wasn’t only urine soaking the toilet paper. Oh no, no, no. There was something else down there too. Something unmistakably gelatinous and suspiciously white and very much not part of your regular bathroom experience.
You hadn’t used protection.
And this motherfucker had came inside of you.
And—right. Right. You were not on birth control. Not anymore, at least. You’d gone off it a few months ago because… reasons. Stupid reasons, but still reasons.
When you’d been single and spectacularly sexless for as long as you had, the only thing you really needed protection from was your own imagination. Unless you were planning on pulling off some kind of postmodern Virgin Mary miracle—minus the virgin part—there was absolutely nothing to worry about.
Honestly, it had been sort of freeing. Getting to know what your brain (and your moods) were like without a daily cocktail of hormones. Sure, the trade-off was heavier periods, but you’d been handling those like a pro since you were twelve, the day you bled through brand-new white Hollister skinny jeans and decided shame should be afraid of you, and not the other way around.
Twelve-year-old you was way more of a girl boss than you were being in the moment, on the verge of tears in a hockey player’s bathroom.
Do you tell him? Now? Or do you climb out the window?
Except… you were in a high-rise, you dumb fuck. What were you going to do—scale down the building like Spiderman? Sure. Great plan.
No, you had to tell him. There wasn’t really a viable alternative. You couldn’t hide in this marble sanctuary forever. Eventually he’d assume you were either violently hungover or deep in some kind of… constipation crisis.
Besides, it wasn’t that complicated. You’d tell him what happened, buy a Plan B, and never see him again. Problem solved. But still—he should know. He deserved at least that much, if only so he could feel the tiniest bit of guilt for… you know, finishing inside you with no protection in sight.
Yeah. He should feel guilty. That was just basic decency. It was irresponsible. You were both irresponsible, sure—but equality meant shared blame, didn’t it?
You stood up on legs that, surprisingly, didn’t give out. Progress. You splashed some water on your face, trying to wash off the last remnants of mascara. You still looked like someone who had made several questionable choices—but slightly more hydrated now.
And then you walked back out into his bedroom.
You told yourself: Shame should be afraid of you, not the other way around.
Which was a great mantra—empowering, even—right up until you actually laid eyes on him again. Still naked. Still in bed. Still annoyingly attractive.
You were in shock. That was the only reasonable explanation for your sudden burst of bravery.
It had to be shock.
The man in bed had propped himself up on one elbow now, hair still messy and eyes still soft with sleep as he watched you reappear from the bathroom.
You froze in the doorway, your feet practically gluing themselves to the floor.
His eyes drifted down, lingering on your bare legs—lingering—long enough for even you to notice. And you never noticed that kind of thing. Kelly had told you that a million times.
And then he smirked.
Not a smile. A smirk. A smug, post-hookup expression that practically screamed so… you gonna say something, or should I? Like he was waiting for you to break the tension with a flirty comment. Maybe a callback to last night. Maybe a casual hint at round two.
But no.
You weren’t about to make this moment lighter. You were about to turn that smirk into a full-blown existential crisis. You were going to make the tension a million times worse with whatever words you spoke next.
“So, uhm…” Your tongue felt dry in your mouth. “You came inside of me.”
It was almost… poetic.
The man in front of you tried his hardest to keep in a laugh, surprised eyebrows scrunching his forehead. The godforsaken smirk deepened, and you resisted the urge to go back and grab the bathroom plant to hurl at his face.
“I remember,” he simply stated.
“No, I mean—” You sighed loudly, frustration rising because of how slow he was thinking. “You came inside of me, and I’m not on birth control.”
That landed. The fog of sleep evaporated instantly. His expression changed—eyes sharper, posture shifting.
“What?” he said, sitting up a little more, sheets rustling. “You didn’t tell me—”
“I know I didn’t,” you cut in, sharper than intended. You moved to sit on the edge of the bed, like that would somehow make this conversation feel less like a confrontation. “But in my defense, we didn’t really talk at all! It just sort of… happened.”
You gave a vague wave, as if gesturing at the entirety of last night would explain everything.
And maybe it could. Because if you could barely remember anything beyond tequila, Kelly’s voice in your ear, and the dull background noise of moping hockey bros—then neither could he.
A dopamine-seeking athlete and a drunk girl with impulse control issues. A classic combination. You were both at fault for rushing, for getting ahead of yourselves without talking about some fundamental rules and boundaries. You both jumped in without checking the water level.
And now? Well, now it was too late to un-jump.
“I’m sure you don’t even remember my name,” you added, part accusation, part self-preservation.
“It’s Y/N.”
He said it without hesitation, and you had never felt worse in your life.
“Oh.”
He looked a little surprised at you, connecting some dots up in his head, before practically gasping out the question. His voice pitched up slightly, somewhere between amused and mildly offended.
“You don’t remember mine?”
You pressed your lips together in a fake-apologetic smile, but your wide, guilty eyes gave the game away. You had no idea. You could recall vague references Kelly made to the players she worked with—mostly sarcastic nicknames like “Dumb and Dumber” or “Tweedledee and Tweedledum”—but actual names? Not a chance.
He scoffed out a little laugh. “It’s Quinn.”
You blinked. Still nothing
“Hi, Quinn,” you said, casually. Cool, even. Like a person who definitely didn’t just forget the name of the guy who was inside of her less than twelve hours ago.
Could you be any more pathetic?
A silence fell between you—long, awkward, and cinematic in the worst way. You both stared at each other like two people watching a slow-motion car crash unfold on a rainy highway. Except the car was possibly shaped like a baby, and the crash was the complete and total derailment of your foreseeable future.
Quinn scratched at his jaw, face still crumpled in confusion or concern or regret—you couldn’t tell.
“So… how—I mean, what do we do now?” he asked, his voice trying to walk a tightrope between concerned and casual but mostly falling into a pit of pure awkwardness.
“I guess I’ll take a morning-after pill,” you said, biting the inside of your cheek, “and then pray to a god I don’t believe in.”
He opened his mouth to respond, but you were already moving—grabbing your jeans off the floor, looking desperately around the room for the rest of your belongings. You must’ve had a purse with you that was now somewhere in this high-rise cardboard box.
Ah, peeking out from under the bed.
“Okay—” he tried. “You’re leaving now?” he added quickly, words overlapping.
“Yeah, I don’t know—” You shimmied into your jeans with little to no grace, doing that awkward dance when the fabric got stuck around your hips. “Clock’s ticking, I guess.”
Quinn was still watching you, moving around the room, like maybe his brain hadn’t caught up with the situation yet. And then it all caught up with him at once.
“Wait—give me your phone first. Should I pay or…?”
You paused, one shoe in one hand, your newfound bag in the other, rummaging to see if anything was missing.
“I’ve got it,” you said, not quite curt, but not exactly warm either. You made your own money. “Why do you need my phone?”
He blinked. “I don’t know—just in case it, like… doesn’t work?”
“In case the pill doesn’t work?” you repeated, mouth dry, tone flat.
“I’d want to be updated,” he said, like it was the most logical thing in the world.
You narrowed your eyes a fraction. “You want to hear from me again?”
That made him hesitate. Just for a second. Like maybe he hadn’t thought the sentence all the way through. You took two slow, pointed steps forward and handed him your phone—already opened to a blank contact because you didn’t trust him to find it himself.
You didn’t exactly know why you were angry at him—why you had turned sour. Maybe it was the absurdity of the situation finally settling and your shock now gone, letting you feel every single emotion it had initially been protecting you from.
You let out a slight laugh at how he went quiet. “I mean, we had mediocre sex that might end in a nightmare. I wouldn’t hold it against you if this was a one-night stand you never think of again.”
“Mediocre?”
“Don’t act like it was great, Quinn.”
And that wiped the smirk right off his face.
You didn’t wait for him to come up with a rebuttal. You took your phone back and turned your heel. You’d done your part. You had communicated. You had owned your mistake. You had not cried in front of him. That, in itself, was a personal victory.
You left him there—shirtless, mildly offended, possibly a father—and headed out the door, your shoes in one hand, bag in the other, and a rapidly intensifying sense of dread gathering speed in your chest. You needed to find the nearest pharmacy now.
That pill better fucking work in your favor, because you never wanted to see that man again.
Quinn. It was a stupid name anyway, and not at all… really pretty.
Outside—after what felt like an hour-long elevator ride and an apologetic look from the building’s concierge—the sun was offensively bright. The kind of bright that exposed everything wrong with your life, from your unblended concealer to the fact that you may, at this very moment, be incubating a mistake. A big, squalling, tax-deductible, nine-month-long mistake.
With your phone still in your hand, your shaking fingers found Kelly’s contact. A photo of her dressed as a sexy Toad from Mario Kart, taken at a Halloween party in college, adorned it. You saw the dozens of unread texts lighting up your home screen, but texting her felt impossible. Your hands were shaking too much to trust spelling.
She picked up on the second ring.
“Well, good morning, you whore!” Kelly practically sang. “I’ve sent you like a million text! Did you just leave his place or what? Was it exactly what you needed, like I said?”
The tears were immediate. Just a sudden, humiliating flood. You were crying before you even said a word, like someone had poked a hole in your soul and all your dignity was leaking out onto the pavement.
“I— I fucked up,” you stammered, breath hitching. “Like really fucked up—”
“Bubbles, slow down,” Kelly said, suddenly all business. “What happened?”
Bubbles. Absolutely not. You didn’t deserve a nickname like that—especially not today.
It was a relic from a college introduction icebreaker gone wrong, back when you’d been a little too enthusiastic for your own good. You’d been answering questions like your life depended on it, and some overconfident jock with the personality of a deflated football dubbed you Bubbles on the spot.
Kelly, who’d been in the same introduction group, refused to let it die. Years later, she still tossed it out like it was a term of endearment instead of a years-old inside joke you’d very much like cremated. You weren’t bubbly anymore—hadn’t been for a long time.
You sat down on the curb. Actually sat down. Outside a glass-and-steel skyscraper where metrosexual men in Patagonia vests were currently making their way to Sunday brunch. You probably looked like some sort of pest who’d just been evicted from a very upscale trash can. At least that was what you felt like.
“Kelly,” you harshly whispered, pulling your knees up to your chest. “How the fuck does a Plan B pill work?”
There was a pause from her end. The kind of pause where you could hear her brain switch from concerned to holding in a laugh.
“Oh my god,” she breathed. “You let Quinn raw-dog you?”
“I didn’t let him!” you yelped, shoving on a pair of sunglasses you had in your bag. They were weirdly crooked and also had a sticky spot on them from last night’s drinks, but at least they hid your tears. “It just… happened!”
“Bubbles,” she said, her voice already reaching that high, delighted octave reserved for when your life was spiraling but she called it. “You didn’t—”
“I forgot to tell him I wasn’t on birth control,” you wailed. “Because we were drunk! And now there’s sperm in me, Kelly! SPERM! Like—actual, literal, swimming, potential human beings just hanging out in there!”
You were sure your words had people on the street staring at you, as if a girl sat on the curb crying didn’t draw enough attention to herself. Maybe you could scare an old lady if you sobbed loud enough.
“Okay, okay,” Kelly said, still way too calm. “Take a deep breath. Plan B basically tells your eggs to go on strike, like a little protest rally, so the sperm can’t clock in. It’s not a big deal. You just need to get to a pharmacy.”
You sniffled, wiping your nose with the back of your hand as you clutched your phone harder in the other. “A strike? Okay, my eggs should be able to do that. I believe in unions.”
“I know you do, darling,” Kelly laughed on the other end. “Bubbles, listen to me. Go buy the damn pill. Do not cry more on Quinn’s sidewalk. And then call me back so I can live vicariously through your chaos.”
You nodded furiously, even though she couldn’t see you.
“Okay,” you croaked, dragging yourself to your feet. “But if I end up pregnant, I’m mailing the baby to you.”
“You better not,” Kelly said. “That baby will come out with perfect hair and hockey player muscles. I am starting a project Crosby the minute it’s born so I can be financially independent.”
And before you could retort, she ended the call—not with a cold hang-up, but with a cheerful “Love you, bye!” that somehow made you feel both comforted and utterly doomed.
You stood there for a second, cheeks wet, sunglasses slipping down your nose, bag hanging off your shoulder like it was as tired as you were. You were humiliated to the point of no return, and with minutes ticking down to find salvation in pill form before your uterus started planning a family without you.
thank you for reading!
please tell me what you think, my asks are always open ★
Hiii I just had a thought about kess and Clayton of course, holding back your hair after a night of drinking or just when you’re sick
They'd both be amazing in general I think at taking care of you when you're not feeling too good, definitely the sort of people you can rely on in different ways. Like Clayton is calm and steady, Kess is a little more chaotic but he's sympathetic and he means well
TW: Talks of vomit, being sick, y'know that sort of stuff. Being sick is gross and that's okay, that's life.
Requests are open for specific people only, please see my pinned post for details :)
Writing Masterlist
He's not supposed to come round. Clayton's supposed to be getting an early night, in his own bed, nearer to the rink than yours. He's supposed to be asleep already.
But you'd been sick, really sick for days now. To the point he kept visiting between practice and games to check on you as you laid up in your sick bed, clammy, sweaty and feeling like you might be dying not just have the flu.
You'd tried to dissuade him from coming around, not wanting to get him sick or any of the team when they were in the middle of the hockey season. But, Clayton refused to listen, kept ignoring you and making a reappearance at your door with the key you'd given him months ago. That damn key.
He wasn't supposed to be here at 10pm though, that wasn't normal. He couldn't help himself, you'd declined a face call which told him you were feeling even worse and then he'd been unable to get a hold of you through texts...
Your house was dark and quiet except for the sound of pained groaning and moaning up the stairs. The sort of sound that had him wincing as he kicked his shoes off at the door and eased his way into the house. Clay follows the sounds like a compass, into your room where light floods in from your bathroom.
You're knelt on the bathroom floor, head almost inside the toilet bowl, shoulders shaking, body quivering as you wretch. It's instinct to lower himself next to you on the cold, hard tile. Instinct that has Clayton gently greeting you, fingers reaching to carefully to pull your hair back and out of your face, held at the back of your neck by one of his hands.
"It's just me, baby..." You still jump, not expecting him, but you can't really say or do much, too busy vomiting like your body wants everything out of you.
Clayton wouldn't say he's squeamish, he can't be, but vomit is definitely not his favourite of all the bodily fluids to tackle. He doesn't mind so much for you though.
His free hand rubs circles into your shoulder and back as you throw up, an attempt at comfort that he knows isn't going to do much for you like this. But, it's enough, just not to feel quite so alone as your stomach starts to hurt and you start to cry even while you're being sick...because you're so tired of it, so ready to not have your head in a toilet bowl.
"Just let it out, baby...'s okay, you're doing so good, okay?" He's all soft reassurances, steady and stable. His fingers brushing away your tears from your cheeks and taking a bit of toilet roll to wipe at your mouth every time there's a moment of respite between being sick.
You try to keep him in your peripheral vision, eyes red and wet but focused on him. His serious frown, the down turn of his lips, the concern that reminds you how loved you are, how seen you are.
He doesn't force you to move immediately when you stop being sick. Lets you rest your cheek on the toilet seat, breathing heavily, eyes blinking as your stomach cramps from all the vomiting. Clayton just stays next to you, fingers brushing your hair back, wiping your mouth, brushing away the sweat on your forehead. The back of his palm feels you for a temperature, a tut comes out that tells you he's worried.
"You done, baby?"
You nod, not being able to find the words and Clayton reaches for you, hands under your arms to help you stand with him. You're wobbly and shaky and he practically holds you up while your head spins, forehead pressing into his shoulder.
"Take your time, baby..." His hands rub over your back as you breathe for a minute, his concern palpable because you've clearly been downplaying how ill you are.
"I'm okay..." His hands are on you the entire time that you move from the bathroom to the bedroom, helping you walk but also get into bed, tucking you in like a fretting parent.
"Have you had any medicine today?" He's feeling your skin. You're clammy, burning up and it has him tutting at you like a mother hen thinking of all the things his mom would tell him to do when he was seriously sick.
"...no..." You look away from him, sheepish because you know what he's going to say because you'd say the same thing if the roles were reversed.
"Baby..."
"It's just the flu..." You protest, arms crossed in a weak show of defiance as you ease back into your pillows.
"Yeah, it's just the flu and you can barely stand up without passing out. I'm going to get you some meds, have you eaten?" He knows the answer already before you give it, your refusal to look at him saying all he needs to know.
"Not since lunch time."
"Okay." Clay's not happy with you, that much is obvious, frowning at you like you're a referee that's made a bad call on the ice. But, he doesn't lecture you, just tucks you in tighter before leaving you.
You can hear him from your room, the way he putters around the kitchen, the sound of a pot being placed on your stove, something bubbling, and the opening and closing of drawers.
It's the only thing keeping you from falling asleep, eyes drooping, body exhausted even as your skin hurts and your body shivers from the fever.
When he makes a reappearance you're trying desperately to stay awake, eyes sleepy as you watch him enter the room with a tray, a bowl of hot soup on top, a packet of meds next to it. He's wearing the silly, frilly Halloween apron you bought that has cats dressed as ghosts on it. He looks ridiculously domestic even with his chains and his slicked back hair.
"Meds first, baby," The tray is placed on your lap, two cold and flu pills popped out and handed to you as he passes you a glass of water. Clay's patient as he watches you struggle to swallow the pills a few times. You're complexion is ashy, no warmth to your skin, just a sickly sort of glow to it.
"You gotta eat at least 10 spoonfuls."
"10?" You look at him like he's asked you to climb Mount Everest, an insurmountable task, a problem that's impossible. But, he knows you need to eat and Clay knows once you start it'll get easier.
"Yeah, baby, 10."
Your spoon shakes so much that Clay takes it from you in the end, bringing each spoonful of soup to your mouth in turn and patiently waiting for you to finish it. Once you start it seems to kick start your hunger, a ravenous sort of pit in your stomach taking over until you've managed to eat the whole bowl and he's satisfied enough to let you curl back under the covers while he tidies.
You're fast asleep when he returns, bowl and spoon cleaned, tray put away. He knows he shouldn't stay, he'll probably get the flu, but he reasons that if he was going to get it he'd have already gotten it by now. That's his excuse as he strips down to his boxers and curls in beside you, tugging your body to his. You curl closer in your sleep, feverish shivers making you feel cold, his body a furnace.
