Lexi can still feel the way his thumb stroked over her hand as he told her he loved her. She can still hear the promises and sweet nothings whispered in her ear as he pulled her onto his lap. She can still smell his cologne flooding her senses as they fell into his bed and spent the night in each other’s arms.
It makes her feel sick all over again. She just can’t make any of it make sense. How could Fezco be dating—kissing, fucking—other girls this whole time?
Lexi can imagine the future headlines now: LOVE ISLAND STARS F@#& IN VILLA! LITTLE HOWARD IS A SLUT NOW!
As Fezco overwhelms her from head to toe with pleasure, apparently spurred on by her display, she can’t find it in herself to care. At least the post-production interviews will be juicy.
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A Love Island AU where Fezco and Lexi finally succumb to multiple weeks of sleeping in the same bed.
Overachieving librarian Lexi Howard absolutely loves her job, even if she secretly wishes for more in her professional life. Her coworker, Fezco O’Neill, loves her.
(He also secretly wishes for more.)
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a fexi librarian au with mutual pining, late night flirting, and (eventual) smut
“I would’ve beat his ass, by the way,” he says suddenly.
Lexi looks over with her brow raised slightly. “Nate?”
“Hell yeah. He had it comin’ putting his hands on you. But he walked away, so I figured it wasn’t necessary to fuck him up.”
Summary: Your day couldn't get any worse after walking home in the middle of a freezing rain storm. Luckily, Matt is waiting for you and has a few ideas to help warm you up.
Tags: Mature, Fluff, Established Relationship, Non-Graphic Smut, Fingering, Matt being a great bf
read on AO3 or below the cut
You’re shivering as you step over the threshold. Rain isn’t uncommon in the city and you’re almost always prepared for it, but today it caught you off guard. No umbrella, not even a raincoat, just you and a downpour for nearly fifteen blocks. The walk was a hazy mess of people rushing past you and water violently splashing down. It’s not a day for calm, misty, refreshing rain. This storm is aggressive and vindictive. You realize you’re leaving a puddle in the entryway and quickly close the door and kick off your shoes.
Your apartment is small—or “cozy” as your landlord had advertised it. You used to think the narrow hallway that led from the front door to your kitchen was a waste of space, since knocking down the wall that formed it would create a much more open floor plan. But now, your only issue with the hall is that it takes you just a few moments longer to lay eyes on Matt.
“Hey honey,” you say tiredly.
He’s sitting on your couch, already smiling in your direction when you see him. You faintly recognize the sound of bubbling water from your electric kettle, and you remember that he would have known you were coming long before you even entered your building. It’s an admittedly small gesture, given that boiling water for tea is a pretty low effort task, but it still makes you want to kiss him senseless.
Matt seems to have the same idea as he makes quick strides toward you. “I’m glad you’re home.”
He reaches toward you, and it’s so tempting to fall into his arms and forget about the world. But as lovely as that would be, the clothes sticking to your icy skin would make everything intensely uncomfortable.
You step away before he can hold you, then start to peel off your shirt. Even though your camisole remained fairly dry in the rain, your pants are drenched and half your skin is covered in goosebumps. There’s no reason for you both to be miserable.
“Oh don’t, I’m wet and cold,” you insist.
Matt just smiles with a shrug. “And I’m warm.”
When his arms wrap around you, the cold starts to fade. His warm breath falls on your forehead, while his hands run gently along your arms to soothe your raised flesh. You press into his chest with more force than intended, but it only encourages Matt to hold you tighter. He presses a quick kiss to the top of your head while his thumb caresses your arm.
“How was your day?” he asks. He must sense the snarky reply that’s on your lips and quickly clarifies. “Besides the rain, I mean.”
“It was fine. Busy.” You don’t mean to be so short, but the exhaustion is creeping into your bones and all you want to do is lay down.
The kettle’s high-pitched alarm sounds and you pull away to find a mug. There’s an assortment of fun cups in your cabinet, mostly souvenirs from your best friend’s trips. You pick out one with a pretty floral pattern for yourself and another with polka dots for Matt while he grabs two chamomile tea bags. You work together quietly at the kitchen counter, leaning into each other closely while the tea steeps and rain continues to pour down outside.
“Do you like when it rains?” you ask suddenly.
Matt smiles wryly after taking a long sip. “I like it less when you come home freezing because of it.”
“I was just thinking…doesn’t it mess with your senses?” You turn to face him, holding the warm mug close to your chest. He’s already a little more tense, but you know he would rather you ask questions about his abilities than tiptoe around them. You’re genuinely curious as well, given how he hates crowded rooms and abrasive fabrics. “There are thousands of droplets all across the city and with your hearing, I just wondered. I mean, I can’t imagine how overwhelming that could be.”
“No one’s ever mentioned that before,” he replies softly. “I had to teach myself how to stop getting overwhelmed, overstimulated. Sometimes it’s still hard. It can take a lot of focus, especially when the noise is coming from all around me.”
You remember the first time he told you about his training. Some of it was more brutal than you ever wanted to imagine, but it was part of him. However, he almost always spoke fondly of meditation. It was one of the few things that brought him peace and kept him balanced. Even so, your heart clenches at the thought of his suffering, at how much fear and confusion he had endured to get to this point. The sweetness of the chamomile can’t overcome the bitter taste the thought leaves in your mouth.
“I’m sorry,” you whisper.
“Don’t be, sweetheart.” Matt sets his empty mug in the sink and takes your hand again. He pulls you toward the couch, but stops so abruptly that you bump into him. “Take off your pants.”
He can’t see the incredulous expression on your face, so you make no attempt to hide it. “That’s pretty presumptuous of you, Mr. Murdock.”
He chuckles and reaches down to find the button himself. “Your clothes are still wet, and the longer you keep them on, the colder you’ll be.”
His logic is admittedly pretty flawless, so you help him pull down your pants. His hands brush against your thighs, sending a shiver through your body.
“You know, it’s pretty cold standing here half naked too.” Matt just smiles at your complaint, knowing his proximity was the reason you were about to start shaking, not the chill.
“Here.” He starts unbuttoning his shirt, and for a moment you think he’s going to pull a “skin-to-skin contact” line about preserving body heat on you. But then he steps behind you to help slide the sleeves up your arms and wrap his shirt around your frame. It smells like his aftershave, and you can feel the warmth from his body all over. You aren’t the kind of person that usually steals their partners clothes, but you know Matt is never getting this shirt back.
Your bare leg brushes against him and you’re almost tempted to jump up and wrap your legs around him and not let go until you’ve tumbled into bed. But the couch is much closer and Matt pulls you down so your back is to his chest and his hands fitted around your waist. There’s a blanket laid across the back of the couch that you reach for to pull over your bodies.
The chill from outside completely fades away as you feel Matt’s chest moving up and down. You could easily fall asleep cuddling like this, warm and content and in love. The sound of rain beating down outside would lull you into oblivion, erasing all your struggles from the day and replacing them with a pleasant afternoon dream.
The only thing that could possibly distract you is Matt, and of course, he does. It’s not his fault at all, but your mind keeps wandering back to your brief conversation. A strong wind blows a forceful wave of rain into the side of your building, and you feel the slightest tension in Matt’s body. It quickly disappears, but you don’t need enhanced senses to know your own boyfriend.
“Is there anything else that helps? With the noise?”
He sighs, but you know there’s affection in his touch rather than annoyance. “Just tell me about your day, baby. I’m fine.”
“Well there’s a lot to tell, unfortunately.” You start by detailing how disorganized your office was when you first arrived this morning, then the piles of paperwork that showed up on your desk. Your coworkers were little help with anything, then the sudden rain was the cherry on top of a perfectly miserable day.
At some point during your rant, Matt’s hand slips down between your legs. His finger runs along the edge of your underwear, teasing right at the places where you’re most sensitive.
“Matt,” you groan.
“Finish your story,” he instructs softly.
He pulls the fabric down your bare legs easily. His fingers dance across your skin, almost reaching where you need him, but never quite indulging you. When he finally does, your breath catches and you grip the blanket that covers you. You choke out a few words while he works through your folds and mumbles praises directly into your ear. His other hand tangles in your hair and tugs gently, tilting your head back enough so his lips can find yours. With the way Matt is able to work your body, touching and feeling all the perfect places, it doesn’t take long for you to find ecstasy. You tremble and moan through the waves of pleasure he brings you, all while desperately trying to hear his every loving word past the blissful haziness of your orgasm.
You lie together in silence for a few minutes, and when you eventually come back to yourself you notice the rain has lightened up.
“This helps,” Matt says simply.
It takes you a moment to realize he’s answering your question from earlier, but when you do you can’t help but laugh. “I’m sure it does.”
“Listening to you helps me more than you realize,” he insists, but you can tell he’s holding back a laugh as well. It doesn’t help that his hands are still stroking your sensitive skin.
“Well, I’ll always be around to talk your ear off,” you promise.
“I hope so.” Even with the humor in Matt’s voice, you hear the earnestness, the desire. “I love you.”
writing challenge: write a blurb of Fez and Lexi saying "I love you" for the first time (or if you've already written it and want to repost it here, do that!) wanted to start something fun with the fexi hive, feel free to ignore if you don’t want to do it lol :)
this took me so long but i really loved this prompt and realized i actually haven’t shared an “i love you” scene yet so i wanted to try one out and capture the essence of fexi. without further ado:
They lie on their backs on top of his comforter. Orange tinted light pours through the open curtains into his bedroom, painting her dark features with the warm, bright tint of sunset.
Lexi knows she looks pretty like this. She’s entirely guilty of staring into the sun just to get a nice picture. But Cassie’s selfie tips are the last thing on her mind as Fezco studies her face. He looks entranced, moving minutely closer from the opposite side of the bed.
Their relationship is still unlabeled, but they both know it’s building toward something big and beautiful. Lexi thinks it’s strange that she can essentially tell him she wants to have his children over the phone, then in person they’re still stuck at hand holding and forehead kisses. But that’s her pace and he’s perfectly happy to follow it, even if it means their trips to his bedroom are really just for talking.
She keeps her eyes locked on his as she reaches her hand out to fill the space between them. He takes it immediately, lacing their fingers together and smiling gently. She knows he feels even better when she initiates something. The mattress dips as she rolls over to lay on her side and face him, keeping their hands entwined.
“Lexi?”
It comes out as a soft breath, as if his lips are perfectly, naturally shaped for saying her name. She blushes at the thought and squeezes his hand in acknowledgment.
“Hm?”
His eyes flicker across her body, then back to her bright eyes. “I just…fuck.”
The way he talks is thrilling. It’s like he’s so distracted by her that the connection between his brain and his mouth malfunctions. She’s drunk on this little power she has over him, secure in the knowledge that it’s mutual and soon enough she’ll be the one stumbling over words again.
“What?” Lexi suppresses a giggle at his wry expression.
“You know ‘what’, Lexi.”
She does. She knows, but she has to pretend she doesn’t, just in case. He has to say the words so they’re real and she’ll have them forever. The disapproving arch in his brow softens until he looks entranced, while his lips part and he takes a breath: “I’m in love with you.”
There are no fireworks or swelling orchestral music, but Lexi thinks this is her moment. The moment of her life, the climax of an unexpectedly happy story, the payoff after years of painful character development.
“I’m supposed to be doin’ this right and takin’ things slow,” he adds quietly. His fingers relax in his hand, releasing her if she wants to pull away.
Lexi’s grip redoubles, clinging to him and the sudden thought that this is only the beginning of that happy story, that she’ll have a whole new part of life ahead of her, filled with Fezco.
“I’m not ready for everything yet, but there’s no fast or slow when you love someone. I’m in love with you too.”
