✧ ex bsf!matt, ex friends to lovers, protected sex, making out, softdom!matt, mutual pining, hurt/comfort
✧ summary: you’ve been losing matt for months and you can’t pretend it doesn’t hurt anymore. you bring him to your friend group hangout at cabin in the woods as one last shot, but when a thunderstorm traps you together in the dark, all that buried tension finally comes spilling out.
✧ authors note: if you saw me post like 2 other fics before this no u didnt im just indecisive. (soso sorry to everyone on my taglist for the notfis LMAOO) also this is inspired by something i saw on tiktok but i cannot for the love of god find it, but im looking i promise..when i do find it i will for sure link it here.
you've been avoiding the truth for months now.
it's easier that way. easier to tell yourself that people just grow apart, that it's natural, that the empty space where matt used to be will eventually fill with other things. other people.
but it hasn't. and now you're standing in the kitchen of this stupid cabin, watching him laugh at something jenna said, and your chest feels like someone reached in and twisted your heart.
you invited him because sarah begged you to. "it won't be the same without him," she'd said, and you'd agreed because agreeing was easier than explaining that you couldn't remember the last time you and matt had a real conversation.
your texts had become sending each other memes and one-word responses. you'd started leaving him on read because it hurt less than the silence that followed when you actually tried.
the cabin is all wood and string lights, situated on a lake that's currently reflecting the gray sky like a mirror. it's supposed to be a fun weekend.
matt showed up three hours late, hoodie pulled over his head even though it's not that cold, duffel bag practically falling apart because he's had it since high school and refuses to get a new one.
he'd hugged everyone else first, saving you for last, and when he finally wrapped his arms around you it felt stiff. performative. like he was doing it because it was expected, not because he wanted to.
"hey," he'd said against your hair, and you'd smelled the familiar scent of him, laundry detergent and that vanilla body wash he uses, and felt your eyes burn with tears you refused to let fall.
"hey," you'd replied, and pulled away first.
now it's night. the group has sectioned off into smaller conversations, alcohol passed around freely, someone playing shitty indie folk from a portable speaker.
you're sitting on the floor near the fireplace, wedged between chloe and jake, and you're telling a story about your horrible first attempt at making sourdough. people are laughing. you should feel good.
but your eyes keep drifting to the corner where matt is sitting alone, holding a beer that's probably warm by now, scrolling through his phone like he's somewhere else completely.
"you okay?" chloe asks, following your gaze.
"fine," you lie. "just tired." she doesn't believe you, but she lets it go.
the storm starts around midnight. you'd seen it on the forecast earlier, dark clouds gathering over the lake, but you'd hoped it would pass.
the first crack of thunder is loud enough to make everyone jump, and then the rain starts, sudden and violent, drumming against the roof like a thousand angry knives.
"shit," sarah says, standing up to check the windows. "that's coming down hard."
the lights flicker. once. twice. then die completely, plunging the cabin into darkness broken only by the fire and the occasional flash of lightning.
people groan, reaching for theirs phones, grumbling the usual complaints about losing power. someone suggests finding candles, flashlights, making it an adventure.
you sigh, suddenly exhausted by the idea of performing fun for a group of people who don't know that your heart is currently trying to jump out of your ribcage.
you slip out while no one's paying attention, padding down the hallway toward the back deck. you need air. you need to not be in that room with him, watching him pretend you don't exist.
the deck door sticks, then opens with a whine of wood against wood. the rain is loud out here, mist hitting your face even under the overhang. you lean against the railing and try to breathe.
"didn't take you for the storm-watching type."
you don't turn around. you know that voice better than your own. "didn't take you for the following-people-into-the-dark type."
matt steps up beside you, close enough that his shoulder almost brushes yours. he's not wearing a jacket, just that thin hoodie, and you can see him shivering. "i wasn't following you. i was already heading out here when i saw you leave."
"yeah," he says quietly. "real convenient."
neither of you speaks for a while. the storm rages on, wind whipping the trees, rain coming in sideways now. you feel weirdly calm standing in the middle of it with him.
"your new friends are nice," he says eventually.
"don't do this. don't make small talk like we're strangers."
he laughs, but there's no humor in it. "aren't we, though? strangers? i don't know who you are anymore. i don't know what you like or what you're studying or who you're—" he cuts himself off, jaw working.
"who you're fucking," he says, and the word lands like a slap. "is it him? jake? he looks at you like—"
"jesus, matt, no. jake’s just a friend."
"everyone's just a friend with you now," he says, and his voice is rising, cracking. "i'm just a friend. that's all i ever was, right? matt, the guy who's always there until he's not convenient anymore. until you found better people who actually get your jokes and your references and your—"
"shut up," you say, but it comes out weak.
"—your stupid music taste and your dumb oat milk and your new laugh that i don't recognize because you never laugh like that with me, not anymore, you used to laugh like that with me—"
"i said shut up," and this time you're turning toward him, hands shaking, and he's right there, close enough that you can see the water droplets clinging to his face, the way his chest is heaving, the desperation in his eyes that is exactly what you feel every time you look at him.
"make me," he says, and it's a challenge, a plea, a question.
you're not sure who moves first, but suddenly his mouth is on yours.
it's teeth and tongue and the taste of cheap beer and something sweeter underneath.
he makes a soft noise in the back of his throat, desperate and broken, and his hands are in your hair, pulling just hard enough to hurt, and you grab fistfuls of his hoodie and pull him closer because you can't get close enough. you've never been able to get close enough.
"wait," he gasps, pulling back just enough to breathe. "wait, we can't. your friends—the lights could—"
"fuck the lights," you say, and you mean it. you mean all of it. fuck the lights and the friends and the careful distance you've been maintaining for months. fuck pretending you don't want this. "come on."
you grab his hand and pull him back inside, through the dark hallway, past the sounds of people laughing and talking in the living room. there's a bathroom down here, you remember.
you push him inside and lock the door behind you. it's pitch black, no windows, and for a moment you just stand there breathing hard, listening to each other in the dark.
"this is insane," he whispers.
"we're gonna regret this."
"i don't care," he says, and then his hands are on you again, finding your waist, your hips, sliding up under your shirt. his palms are cold against your stomach and you gasp, arching into him. "i don't fucking care anymore, i can't keep pretending—"
"then don't," you say, and you kiss him again, softer this time, slower, trying to memorize the shape of his mouth.
he walks you backward until your back hits the counter, lifting you up to sit on the edge, and you wrap your legs around him and feel him, hard and against you through layers of clothes.
"need you," he mumbles against your neck, sucking a mark there that you'll have to hide tomorrow. "need you so bad, i've needed you for ages."
you pull his hoodie off, then his shirt, and you run your hands over his chest, his shoulders, relearning him. he's leaner than he used to be, more muscle, less softness, but his skin is still warm, still familiar. he shivers under your touch, goosebumps rising wherever your fingers travel.
"your turn," he says, and he lifts your shirt over your head, drops it somewhere on the floor.
his hands cup your breasts through your bra and you lean into his palms, head falling back against the mirror.
he kisses down your chest, leaving wet trails, and when he sucks your nipple through the fabric you moan, loud enough that he has to cover your mouth with his hand.
"quiet," he reminds you, but he's smiling, you can hear it in his voice. "gotta be quiet, baby."
you hate how much you love that. how your body responds to the word like he's been calling you that all along.
he reaches behind you and unclasps your bra, lets it fall, and then his mouth is on you, hot and wet, and you're biting your lip to keep from crying out. his other hand slides down your stomach, slips into your jeans, and when his fingers find you he groans against your skin.
"you're soaked," he whispers, almost awed. "fuck, you're soaked for me."
"always," you admit, because it's true. it's always been true. "matt, please—"
"need you inside. need to feel you."
he lets out a deep and ragged breath, fumbling with his belt, his jeans, and you help, shoving your own pants down until they're tangled around your ankles.
he fishes a condom out of his wallet, (of course he has one, always prepared, always thinking ahead), and you watch him roll it on with shaking hands.
"look at me," he says, positioning himself between your thighs. "hey, look at me."
you do. even in the dark you can see him, the outline of him, the way his hair is falling into his eyes, the tension in his jaw. he pushes in slowly, so slowly, and you both gasp at the stretch, the fullness, the impossible rightness of it.
"okay?" he asks, voice strained.
"more than okay," you say, and you pull him down to kiss you, and he starts to move.
it's desperate and urgent, his hips snapping against yours and the counter digging into your back and your nails digging into his shoulders hard enough to leave marks. you're gasping into his mouth, trying to stay quiet.
"missed you," he pants, rhythm faltering. "missed you so much, you have no idea, every day without you—"
"i'm here," you say, even though you don't know if it's true, even though you don't know what this means. "i'm here, matt, i'm right here."
he fucks you harder, chasing something, and you feel yourself getting close. his hand slides between you, finds your clit, and that's all it takes. you come with your face buried in his neck to muffle the sound, your whole body shaking apart.
he follows not long after, groaning long and low against your hair, spilling into the condom with a shudder that you feel everywhere. for a moment you just stay like that, breathing hard, his weight pressing you into the counter in a way that should be uncomfortable but isn't.
"i know," he says, but he doesn't pull away. not yet. he kisses your forehead, your temple, the corner of your mouth. "just... give me a minute. let me have this for a minute." you wrap your arms around him and hold on.
when you finally separate, clean up, and put yourselves back together in the dark, you can't look at him. you're scared of what you'll see in his face. regret, maybe. or worse, hope.
"hey," he says softly, catching your wrist before you can unlock the door.
you turn to look at him. he's messy, hair wild, clothes rumpled, and he's smiling. a real smile, the one that used to be just for you, the one that crinkles the corners of his eyes.
"whatever happens," he says, "i'm glad we did that. i needed you to know. even if it's too late, even if you've moved on, i needed you to know."
"i haven't moved on, matt. i don't think i could if i tried." you breathed.
he kisses you and you feel him smiling into the kiss. when you finally exit from the bathroom, the lights are back on and people are drifting toward their rooms, sleepy and drunk.
no one notices you coming from the same direction.
no one sees the way he squeezes your hand before letting go.
✧ taglist: @joelmillrenthusiast @sturn1uver @icravechratt @courta13 @lovesturni0l0s @angel-sturn1 @luvvrubii @amandapanda2 @rainyyy-weather @mattsxbitch @whore4chris @savmattsfavmattgirl @billiesf4v @mamaagirlbehindu123 @ravenloveslotus @mollyjunebugg @bittenbymatt @sweetangelwishes @valentinasturn
