#mattvin
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Kpop artists are real people! Please respect them! All of this is strictly fantasy and for horny fun! None of the things I say in this account are “speculation” or “what these artists are really like” type things. Again, purely fantasy through the lense of a hyperfixation
MINORS DNI!
word count: 5140
tags: gyuvin x matthew, light dom/sub stuff, caught masturbating, oppa kink, inspired by recent(ish) events, gyuvin's shy at first, matthew eats it up, as in all fics gyuvin is hung 😔✊, handjob that turns into blowjob, very light cumplay, theyre so whipped and they don't even know, teaching how to give a bj by example, whos top? whos dom? who's sub? they dont even know, switch 4 switch ig
Found the brain power to write this >:) i accidentally made this very sappy and cute but it's all good bc you get two bjs for the price of one! also it is so much longer than i expected enjoy
‘For today, I’m your oppa’
The moment replayed in Matthew's mind more often than he’d like to admit. His little oppa bit was fun, he got to flirt with the camera and show off something besides being cute, but this was probably too far. He might’ve not known the deepest interweavings of Korean but he was damn good at conversation, and conversation between him and hyungs was even easier. Being referred to as a dongsaeng was pretty natural for him. But Kim Gyuvin. Strange, weird, tall, handsome Kim Gyuvin. He made being a hyung harder than it already was. He was always goofing off, in an endearing, Saint Bernard who doesn’t know how big he is kind of way, but goofing off nonetheless.
It had been one of these many times that Gyuvin had said the something that kept ringing in Matthew's head.
“I’m too tired today. I’m not oppa today.” Matthew had whined as Gyuvin shook him excitedly. “Someone take oppa responsibility for me.”
“I can.” Gyuvin sat up straight with a dumb smile. “I’ll be your oppa.”
Matthew tried to convince himself he mistranslated as his ears got steadily pinker. “What?”
“No take-backs! You said you didn’t want to be oppa so now it’s my turn.” Gyuvin smirked mischievously.
“I didn’t mean my oppa.” He tried to sigh but it came out like more of a squeak.
“Too late! For today, I’m your oppa.”
-
That’s what got Matthew in this situation. Laying on his bed, half mast, all because of some stupid joke. He didn’t even know it was possible for honorifics to affect him like this, especially ones meant for women. He guessed it was a sign he was getting more comfortable with Korean but he almost wished he wasn’t. ‘Gyuvin-oppa’ It rang through his head again and he winced, trying to not imagine anything.
It was a rare free Saturday so most of the members were out, getting food or shopping. Really, it was only Matthew and Taerae home, and he knew for a fact the Taerae had passed out on the couch after lunch. It had been a while, with promotions and filming, he hadn’t got a decent, non-shower jerk off in since right after Boys Planet. It really couldn’t hurt.
He scooted up enough to throw his blanket over his lap, even if someone did walk in it’d be way easier to hide this way. He shimmied out of his sweatpants, sighing as the soft fabric laid over his dick. He could already tell he wasn’t going to last long, dick twitching at the slightest touch. “Fuck.” He breathed. He wrapped his hand around his half stiff cock, lightly tracing his thumb over his slit.
‘Let oppa take care of you.’
Matthew flinched as the image of Gyuvin leaning over him appeared in his mind. He groaned out of embarrassment. He started pumping his hand, nervously letting the fantasy continue on. Imaginary Gyuvin licked his lips, staring down Matthew like he was about to eat him alive. He brought a finger to Matthew’s chin, raising it to make eye contact. Matthew unconsciously sped up his strokes.
‘Say it.’
He knew exactly what imaginary Gyuvin wanted, of course, and he couldn't help himself. He placed a hand over his mouth, intent to muffle himself so only he and his little fantasy had to know.
“Gyuvin-oppa.” saying it out loud shot a shiver straight to his dick. God, why was that doing so much to him? He whined into his hand, eyebrows scrunched up in pleasure. "Oppa, please." he muttered.
"Good boy." Imaginary Gyuvin purred. He kissed him roughly, tongues dancing, before trailing kisses down his jaw, then his throat.
"Gyuvin-oppa, please." he breathed.
He heard a whimper, but this time it wasn't his own. His hand flew away from himself, eyes squeezing tightly closed. Oh, god. This was humiliating. "Jesus fucking Christ." he swore to himself in English. "Please leave." He didn't dare look at who it was, he didn't want to go through the next few weeks avoiding eye contact with someone.
"...But." The voice squeaked, already sounding way too familiar. "You called me."
"I don't want to talk about it Gyuvin." Matthew rolled over to face the wall, neck burning from embarrassment. Of course, of all eight people that could've caught him, it had to be the one he was moaning the name of. "Leave.'' He hoped he sounded intimidating and not like he was about to cry.
There was a long pause, one Matthew tried to convince himself meant Gyuvin left and he just didn't hear. Unfortunately, his ears were hyper aware of every tiny sound at the moment. He could still hear Gyuvin breathing. He tried desperately not to break into tears. "I don't wanna." Gyuvin finally said, more of a whisper than anything.
Matthew's confusion overtook his embarrassment for a moment and he turned his head to look at Gyuvin. Oh. He was standing, hands balled into tight fists at his sides, still holding his shopping bags. His thighs were clenched together. The worst part was he wasn't even looking up, his head hung low, hiding his face. "What?"
"I don't wanna leave, Hyung." Gyuvin's voice cracked. Somehow, his head sunk even lower in his chest. Matthew couldn't bring himself to do anything but stare. "Please..."
Matthew felt a fresh plume of warmth reach his face. This couldn't be real. He dug into his thigh with his nails, willing himself to snap out of it. This fantasy had really gone too far. But Gyuvin remained. Matthew's heart was racing, he could feel the blood rushing in his ears. He had to be sure, if this was going any farther. "Gyuvin, you know what I was doing, right?"
He nodded.
"What was I doing then?" Matthew said carefully, trying to not spook him off.
"Hyung, don't make me say it..." Gyuvin covered his face with his hands. Despite his earlier fantasies, Matthew couldn't help but find him adorable. The urge to get more reactions out of Gyuvin was eating at him.
"How am I supposed to know you're serious if you don't tell me?" Matthew's nerves were slowly morphing into excited butterflies.
"Hyung-"
"Just Matthew's fine." He felt himself start to smile. "And look at me, please."
Gyuvin took a deep breath. He lowered his hands away from his face slowly, revealing his wonderfully crimson complexion. "Matthew." He dug his nails into his palms, willing himself to look up. "Were you... touching... yourself..." He let out a little whine before taking another breath. "Thinking about... me?"
Matthew ate up every second Gyuvin left his face uncovered. He knew he probably had a stupid, half horny-brained grin plastered across his face but he couldn't stop.
"Hyu-... Matthew." Gyuvin complained, turning his body away but keeping his face in view.
"Yeah," He breathed, barely audible. "Yeah, I was." He was kind of dazed and awestruck. Kim Gyuvin being anything other than overly excited or passed out was always a pleasant change, but this was something else entirely.
"O-okay." Gyuvin cleared his throat, clearly trying to decide what to do next. "Did you... like it?"
Matthew couldn't help but to break into a little fit of giggles.
"Matthew!" He whined, stomping in place pathetically.
"I'm sorry, I'm sorry." Matthew tried to catch his breath in between spurts of snickering. "I'm not making fun of you, I promise."
"You sure sounded like you were." Gyuvin pouted and crossed his arms. "Look, I can leave and pretend this didn't happen, but..." His eyes drifted to the floor.
"But?"
Gyuvin shuffled his feet around and cleared his throat. His mind seemed to be working overtime. He sighed after a moment and turned on his heel. Matthew could've sworn he was about to storm off. His chest twinged at bit at the thought. But Gyuvin didn't leave. Instead he set his bags down beside Matthew's dresser and closed the door, paused, then locked it.
"But I want to hear you say that again." His expression had turned stern.
Matthew felt his face heat again. Right, he was supposed to be the embarrassed one here. He'd been walked in on and he'd completely forgotten as soon as Gyuvin acted cute. He really was done for.
"Matthew."
He yelped then cringed at the noise. "Yeah?" He squeaked.
Gyuvin took a careful step forward. "Can I- please- can I touch you?" His face was no less red than before, but it seemed he'd found some confidence.
Matthew couldn't stop the nod that came out of him. "Please." it sounded desperate, but he kinda was.
Gyuvin approached slowly, taking off his jacket on his way. He kneeled in front of Matthew's bed, eyes trained on Matthew's. "Can I...?" He gestured to the blanket that was still draped over Matthew's lap.
Matthew bit his lip and nodded. God, what was he getting himself into?
Gyuvin was so gentle, sliding the blanket off slowly and deliberately. Unveiling Matthew like he was something precious. He exhaled deeply once he was in full view. "Wow." He breathed, his hands floating absently around. "Okay, hhhh, okay, wow."
Matthew chuckled under his breath. "Am I that impressive?"
"Yeah..." Gyuvin whispered, half there. "You're really pretty, Hyung."
Matthew felt his dick twitch at the compliment and groaned. "Sorry, I-"
"Don't be." Gyuvin interrupted. "It's cute." He swallowed and took his eyes off of Matthew's crotch, seemingly with great effort. "I'm gonna start now, okay?"
"O-okay." Matthew winced at himself.
Gyuvin gently wrapped his hand around the base of Matthew's cock, squeezing softly. "Warm..." he mumbled absent-mindedly. He inched his hand upward, more feeling him up than trying to get him off. He placed his hand on Matthew's inner thigh and scooched forward, eyes twinkling with interest. He thumbed at the bit of skin connecting Matthew's foreskin to the head of his cock, making him gasp. Ever so slowly, Gyuvin started moving his hand, working his way up and down Matthew's shaft, staring intently at every movement.
Matthew covered his mouth with his hand. Not only was Taerae asleep not even 30 feet away, but it just felt way too embarrassing to let Gyuvin hear anything. Even if Gyuvin was the one making him make the embarrassing noises. Jesus, this was really happening. Matthew stole a look downwards. Gyuvin, with his hand on Matthew's dick. He couldn't comprehend that, even just as a sentence. His brain flashed that same image of Gyuvin baring over top of him from before. "Gyu-...Gyuvin?" He tried not to pant.
"Yes, Matthew?" Gyuvin had no intention of stopping his movement now that he'd started, Matthew's voice seemingly only spurring him on.
"What you said before..." Matthew winced and covered his mouth again, whimpering into it. "Did- ah- did you mean it? Do you want- ah- me to call you-" He was cut off by Gyuvin's increasing pressure on his dick, strokes speeding up the more he talked. "Ngh!" A strangled moan fought its way out, somehow making Matthew blush even deeper.
"Call me what?" Gyuvin's voice came out darker than before. He might be even worse off than Matthew.
"Oh, come on! You know- ah- what I'm talking about." Matthew whined.
"Yeah, but I wanna hear you say it." Gyuvin finally took his eyes back off of Matthew's dick. "Please."
And who could deny a face like that? Red down to his collarbone, pupils blown, lips parted just enough that Matthew could see his tongue. "Gyuvin... Gyuvin-oppa." The embarrassment curled its way up through Matthew's stomach.
"Fuck..." Gyuvin's head dropped to his chest, strokes going lopsided. "Matthew, I really want you in my mouth right now, but I've- I haven't-not with a guy anyway-" he blathered.
God, he was so cute. "You can- if you want. I wouldn't mind. I can teach you." Matthew reached down and stroked the top of his head. "I mean as long as you don't bite it off, I think you're fine." He chuckled.
Gyuvin whined incoherently. "Matthew, no fair." He flopped forward, squishing his cheek into Matthew's bare thigh.
"Sorry, sorry." Matthew smiled fondly at the top of Gyuvin's head. He wasn't sure if they'd ever had this much contact before, but maybe that was for a reason. "Gyuvinnie-"
His head shot up and he gave Matthew what was probably supposed to be a glare, but his fucked out expression overrid it.
"Gyuvinnie...Oppa." Matthew swallowed. He hated that it'd already gotten easier to say. "Let me teach you, huh?" He braved a hand on Gyuvin's cheek, which he immediately nuzzled into. Cute. He scooched forwards on his knees, crotch absently bumping into Matthew's shin. "Jesus." Matthew wasn't sure if Gyuvin's dick hit him or straight bone. "You're really hard."
Gyuvinnie nodded lazily. "You're really hot."
"Do you... I mean, I could teach you... by example, if you want?" Matthew felt like he should probably be embarrassed, especially given how embarrassed he was at just calling Gyuvin a name, but he wasn't. He was kinda curious, if anything.
Gyuvin's eyes shot open- as open as he could make them, given his state. "Oh! Um, uh- o-okay. If you want."
"Don't worry, I have experience." Matthew smiled smugly. "Come up here." He patted the bed then slid off, pulling up his sweatpants as he went. Gyuvin crawled up onto the bed, knees clamped shut. "Relax, I got this. Tell me if you need a break." He paused. "Gyuvin-oppa." The expression on Gyuvin's face made Matthew smile like a cat. He leaned forward and started busying himself with Gyuvin's fly. It was no easy task given the massive tent blocking his view. Even through his pants, Matthew was already dreading how big Gyuvin was going to be. His fly came undone and Gyuvin lifted his hips to making tugging his pants down easier. He was chewing on his sleeve. Cute. Matthew braced himself then tugged down the waistband of his boxer-briefs. Gyuvin's cock sprang free with a bounce. "Jesus christ." He stared open mouthed at it.
"Is something wrong?" Gyuvin pouted down at him.
"No, it's just..." Matthew tried to measure it with his hand, but it was too small. "You're kinda massive." He swallowed.
Gyuvin giggled above him. "Oh, come on, it's not that big."
"No, I like, seriously feel bad for any women you've been with." He pulled Gyuvin's cock forward so it stood straight, making him whine. "Jesus."
"Hng- Hyung if you're gonna touch it, can you give me some warning first?" He panted.
"Oh, sorry Gyuvinnie." He met Gyuvin's eyes. The face he was making made Matthew go a little crazy. One eye closed, the other half lidded, mouth agape with a silver string of spit connecting his top and bottom lip. His brain backfired. "Here's your warning." He smiled wryly then took Gyuvin's head into his mouth. He swirled his tongue around it, occasionally flattened it to drag it along the slit.
"Fuck! Hyung-" Gyuvin twitched forward. "That wasn't- ngh- much of a warning!"
Matthew hummed around him in response, eliciting a wonderfully strained noise from Gyuvin. Something childish and competitive was burning in him, like he had to prove himself. He bobbed his head down a few centimeters, working the rest of Gyuvin's length with his hand. He took a deep breath before taking him in until he reached his fist, the head knocking into the back of his throat.
"Hyung- fuck- I'm really sensitive- it's been a while-" Gyuvin babbled. His hands came to rest on the back of Matthew's head, tangling into his hair gently. "Careful please."
Matthew pulled off with a pop. "Of course, Oppa." He smiled at the desperate noise that made its way out of Gyuvin, then plunged his way all the way back down. He bobbed ever so slowly, willing his throat to take just a little bit more. Fuck, Gyuvin was big. He tried to not imagine what it would be like inside him, how deep it would reach. He felt his throat start to spasm and backed off. If he couldn't take it all in his mouth he'd just have to treat the part he could fit extra special. He pressed his tongue firmly against the side of Gyuvin's shaft and moved it side to side as he bobbed. Spit was dribbling from the corners of his mouth at this point but he didn't really mind, it was just extra lubricant for his hand to pump the bottom half of Gyuvin's dick with. The soft gasps and moans above him were slowly turning into muffled, stuttering grunts. He pulled off just enough to give Gyuvin's slit kitten licks. "Close already, Oppa?" Matthew looked up to make eye contact. Shit, that was a mistake. Gyuvin's eyes had a fire he couldn't quite place, but he could certainly guess. It made his stomach drop straight to his feet.
Gyuvin's fingers curled into his hair firmly. "Don't stop. Wanna cum in your mouth. Please." The words were slurred but the look on his face was as if this was a matter of life and death.
"Greedy." Matthew huffed, but sunk back down onto him nonetheless. It'd been a while since he last let someone cum in his mouth, but this was his Gyuvinnie. Even if he was sucking his dick at the moment, he still did have a soft spot for him. He wondered how Gyuvin would taste. He sped up his strokes in time with his head movements, spurred on by the light pressure Gyuvin was applying to the back of his head. He tongued lightly at the underside of Gyuvin's glands, making him groan.
"M'close..." His hands pulled at Matthew's head gently.
Matthew took that as a sign to go deeper. He bobbed down to brush his nose against his knuckles again, filling his mouth to the brim. He hollowed his cheeks and worked his head up and down. He felt Gyuvin start to shudder. He plunged down so Gyuvin was at his throat, then pushed himself a little farther. He suppressed a cough as Gyuvin moaned.
"Matthew!" He gasped as he spilled into Matthew's mouth and down his throat. His hands tugged at Matthew's blond hair as he rode out his high. Matthew felt strings of cum shoot down his throat and over his tongue. It tasted sweeter than normal, maybe it was because of all the snacks Gyuvin was always eating, or maybe Matthew's brain just ignored the bitterness more easily because of who's it was.
Matthew tapped Gyuvin's thigh as soon as he was sure he was finished.
"Oh, sorry!" Gyuvin let him go and hung his head back.
Matthew slid off of Gyuvin's dick slowly, enjoying the way he jolted from overstimulation. "Gyuvinnie, look." He tapped his leg again.
"Hmm?" Gyuvin's head fell forward again then froze.
Matthew stuck his tongue out with an 'ahh", cum dribbling down the entire surface. A bead fell onto his lap but he swiped it up with his finger and put it back in his mouth. He made sure Gyuvin was watching as he swallowed.
"Oh... my god?" Gyuvin sat shell shocked.
Matthew giggled at him. "Figured you'd like that." He stood, legs wobbly. "Scooch." He shooed Gyuvin to the side then sat next to him, resting his head on his shoulder after a moment. "Was it a good lesson, Gyuvinnie-oppa?" he snickered, pushing into Gyuvin.
"Mhmmm.' He stretched it into a hum. "Gimme a minute to recover, then it's my turn."
"Your turn?" Matthew scoffed. "Isn't it my turn if, y'know, I'm the one getting it?"
"Nope." Gyuvin rested his head on the wall and smiled, arms behind his head. "My turn because I'll have more fun."
Somehow, Matthew's face got even warmer. "I don't think that's possible. I mean, didn't you have fun when it was 'my' turn?" He made air quotes with his fingers.
"Of course I did!" Gyuvin pouted down at him. "But I wanna see your face when I suck you off." He grinned.
"I- uh- okay." Matthew stuttered, head filling with images he'd rather not share. "You've sure gotten brave in the last ten minutes."
"I don't think it's possible- even for me- to take 'hey can I suck your dick' as a bad sign." Gyuvin hummed contently then slid down on his back to the floor. He flipped over then sat. "So..." He looked up at Matthew with that same unplaceable fire from before. "Hey, can I suck your dick?"
Matthew wasn't sure whether to laugh or blush. He settled on nodding. "Y-yeah, you can..."
"Don't worry, I had a very good teacher." Gyuvin beamed up at him, splitting his face straight in two.
"Someone's excited." Matthew mumbled behind his hand.
Gyuvin nodded, leaning forward. "Someone's hot." He tugged down Matthew's sweatpants and boxers in one motion. His cock bounced into his stomach. "Hello again, pretty."
"Shut up." Matthew pushed at Gyuvin's shoulder.
"You'd rather I lie?" Gyuvin huffed in faux anger. "It's pretty... you're pretty." His voice got airy all of the sudden, like he was under some dick-spell. "Matthew-hyung? Can I ask a favour?"
Matthew swallowed, mouth suddenly dry. "Yeah, Gyuvinnie?"
Gyuvin's eyes hazily made their way up Matthew's torso to meet his eyes. "Can you take off your shirt- please? I really wanna see you-... your muscles... they're so nice." Rather than being spoken, the words vaguely floated out of Gyuvin's mouth.
Matthew tried not to flush. If working out made Gyuvin act like this, he might have to never stop. Without a word, he tugged his t-shirt up over his head. Judging by the strangled gurgle that came from Gyuvin, it was a nice view. "There." Matthew turned his face away. "Anything else?"
"No..." Gyuvin's glassed over eyes traced him from head to... well, other head. "Perfect- you're perfect." He mumbled, leaning over to press a kiss to the inside of Matthew's thigh. "So pretty." Another on his hip.
Matthew's breath got caught up in his throat, coming out clicky. Gyuvin looked almost how he imagined, ready to eat him alive, but in his fantasies Gyuvin wasn't quite so... far gone. Honestly it was hotter this way, affecting him so deeply.
"Matthew..." Gyuvin breathed. Locking his eyes on Matthew's, he trailed his tongue down the crease where his hip met his thigh. It made Matthew shiver.
"I don't think I taught you that..." Matthew panted.
"No, but I wanted to do it." Gyuvin muttered, voice darkening. "Please, Seok Matthew, can I taste you?"
Matthew shuddered, eyes trying to escape from Gyuvin's gaze but suddenly unable to. He nodded slowly, out of focus. "Yes..."
Gyuvin inched his way closer. "Yes, who?" Matthew could feel his breath ghost across his cock.
"Oppa- Gyuvin-oppa, please." He blabbered, face hot with shame. He'd do anything to get Gyuvin's mouth on his dick at this point, calling him a name among the less detestable. Still, the small part of Matthew that was still lucid screamed at him to stop, or slow down at the very least. That part was stupid anyway.
"Good- perfect." Gyuvin mumbled, pressing his lips to the head of Matthew's cock, kissing it gently. Ever so softly, like he was a dog trying to sneak a treat while no one was looking, he placed his lips around Matthew, just below the head. His tongue felt around curiously, sliding around him and licking up the precum he'd leaked. "You taste nice..." Gyuvin muttered, mouth still full.
The vibrations made Matthew gasp before slapping a hand over his mouth.
Gyuvin let Matthew fall out of his mouth then leaned up close to his face. "None of that." he took his hands and pulled them away from his face. "Wanna hear you."
"But- Taerae's-"
"Sleeping and behind a door. Shush. Lemme hear." Gyuvin spoke as if he was saying the most logical thing in the world.
"O-okay." Matthew let his hands fall. He moved one to rest on Gyuvin's cheek. Gyuvin took him back into his mouth, maneuvering Matthew's cock into his cheek, poking him in the hand. He giggled at himself.
"Very funny, Gyuvinnie." He couldn't help the fond smile that made its way onto his face. Gyuvin only responded by taking Matthew in deeper, making him hiss. "Fuck, Oppa." Gyuvin flicked his tongue over the bit of skin connecting Matthew's foreskin to the head of his cock. Matthew tried to hold back his noises, but it was much harder without a hand to muffle himself. He could feel Gyuvin smile around him. Gyuvin bobbed lower, taking nearly all of Matthew into his mouth. Matthew stole a glance down only to be met with Gyuvin staring intently up at him. Fuck, is that how he looked a minute ago? Hair messy, cheeks full, lips pink, eyes hazy and glassed over, big and pleading. Gyuvin hollowed his cheeks and slid up and down Matthew's length, tongue pressed flat against it. Matthew chewed on his lower lip, worrying away at it in some hope to make the embarrassing whimpers he was making die down. He couldn't take much more, this was all so overwhelming. Plus he'd been played with off and on for well over 30 minutes, and he wasn't exactly the most desensitized person at the moment.
"Oppa, please- Oppa I'm close- please-" It came out a lot less coherent than he'd expected but his head was spinning too much for him to care. Gyuvin hummed around him on some kind of question, one Matthew hoped he was answering correctly. "Please- wanna cum on your face- please Oppa."
Gyuvin backed off, only holding the head in his mouth once again. He pumped his hand as fast as he could make it go, tongue working at Matthew's slit. "So pretty for me, baby." he mumbled into Matthew. "Cum for me."
"Fuck- fuck- ah-" Matthew whimpered. His hips jerked back as he crested his climax, pulling himself out of Gyuvin's mouth. The first spirt landed on his lips, the sight drove him crazy. Ears ringing, 'world flashes white' crazy. "Fuck, Gyuvin-" his voice got caught in his throat. He slowly came down from it, the whole room spinning. He flopped forward unconsciously into Gyuvin, head to shoulder. After a moment he felt hands weave into his hair, tracing gentle circles into his scalp.
As his ears stopped ringing a quiet stream of 'You did so good's and 'So pretty's became the only sound he could hear. Gyuvin was mumbling at him, forehead to forehead. He looked down to see Gyuvin's sleeve covered in him.
"You... called me baby." Was the first thing out of Matthew's mouth. His voice was creaky and strained.
Gyuvin pulled away so he could look at him. He held his shoulders, thumb gliding back and forth. "Yeah. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable. I was just really excited." He laughed lightly, with an undertone of hurt.
"No, I-" Matthew wasn't sure what to say, or where exactly he was even going. "I didn't mind- I don't."
"Here." Gyuvin gently pushed Matthew down to lie on the bed. "I'll be right back, promise." He said, peeling his sweater off then crumpling it into a ball.
Matthew didn't have to wait long before Gyuvin reappeared with a glass of water and a damp washcloth. "Do you need anything else?" He asked, a little panicked looking.
"No, that's more than enough." Matthew started to push himself up on his elbows but Gyuvin put a firm hand on his chest.
"Let me do this for you?" He sounded almost guilty. He took Matthew by the chin, wiping at the corners of his mouth and his bottom lip. The washcloth was warm, and smelled faintly of the hand soap Ricky had bought claiming 'No way I'm washing my hands with a bar'. "Sorry in advance." Gyuvin whispered before dabbing Matthew's softening dick clean, making him flinch at the overstimulation. "Sorry, sorry. All done."
Matthew stared at Gyuvin as he stood and placed the washcloth in the laundry basket by his dresser. He just stood there facing the wall, hands pulled to his chest. "Gyuvinnie-"
"It's okay we don't have to talk about it if you don't want." Gyuvin interrupted. "I'm glad I got to do that though."
"Would you listen for once? I swear, this brat." Matthew grumbled and swung his feet off the bed. He padded over to Gyuvin and wrapped his arms around his waist, pulling him into a back hug. Matthew felt a little short for this, seeing as his cheek came to rest in between Gyuvin's shoulder blades, but the gesture was the same. "I'm not mad. I had a good time." He took a deep breath, steeling himself for his next words. "This might sound silly considering what we just finished doing but... I really like you Gyuvinnie-ah." He buried his face into Gyuvin's back. He felt a little bit too much like a middle school girl at the moment to properly face him.
"Oh, thank god." Gyuvin's shoulders sank. "I really don't know how long I could've dealt with casual sex. You're too pretty." He tried to turn but Matthew was latched securely to his back. "Hey, no fair Hyung!"
"No way I'm letting you see my face right now." Matthew's voice was muffled by the fabric of Gyuvin's t-shirt.
"But you let me see your face when you had my dick in your mouth?"
"That's different!" Matthew whined.
"Are you really more embarrassed now, Hyung?" Gyuvin chuckled and reached behind him to pat Matthew on the head. "It's too late, I already like your face no matter what it looks like."
"Hmm?" Matthew mumbled, tightening his grip around Gyuvin's waist.
"I really like you too Matthew-hyung. I like seeing you when you just woke up and your eyes are all puffy, I like seeing how happy you are when you dance, I like seeing you drool when you fall asleep in the car. You always look good." Gyuvin sighed, rocking the two of them gently from foot to foot.
"...If you keep talking like that, I'm gonna start thinking you have a crush on me." Matthew chuckled at himself, light and airy. He let go of Gyuvin's shirt slowly, like he was letting go of the dock as he stepped into a boat. He was just as rocky, anyway.
"Shut up." Gyuvin's smile was huge and sincere, creasing his eyes. "I'm, like, really happy right now."
"I can tell." Matthew snickered into the back of his hand. "C'mon. Let's get you cleaned up too. I'll help you wash up." He smiled fondly up at Gyuvin, taking his hand and pulling him to the door.
"Why does that make me nervous?" Gyuvin giggled.
"Because," Matthew looked over his shoulder at the Saint-Bernard who doesn't know how big he is that is Kim Gyuvin. "I'm pretty."
#kpop nsft#kpop#nsft kpop#not safe for minors#kpop smut#zb1#nsft zb1#zb1 smut#zerobaseone#zerobaseone smut#zb1 fanfiction#nsft seok matthew#not suitable for minors#seok matthew#nsft gyuvin#kim gyuvin#zb1 gyuvin#zb1 matthew#matthew x gyuvin#mattvin#nsft writing requests#writing requests#requests open
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i love clingy mattvin ♡
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LET THE RECORD SHOW THAT I DON’T LIKE A SINGLE ONE OF YOU
#😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭#one day i’m pulling the trigger and changing my url to mattvines#like……I will so help me 😭#anyways. aly and dee too bc even though they’re not here they’re here
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Nice to know BMG sucks. The real question is will Louis and louies ever catch a break? Sick of getting my hopes up and being let down every time and unlike Louis I find it so difficult to be positive all the time. I love him and want to see him thrive and succeed but with his current situation with Simon Jones the wanker still around as well as mattvines and co and BMG I just don’t see that happening. And fans are tired and it fucking sucks to see but since he started releasing music it’s been on us and us alone we can’t enjoy release week like other fandoms because his teams suck. He needs to get rid of all of them and start afresh this is actually ridiculous
Louis also needs to engage the fans. He tweeted more about the Euros than his own music.
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X/ Mattvines / X
#louis tomlinson#Away from home festival#afhf 2022#2022#afhf22#fireworks#away from home festival 2022
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Communication Breakdown (1/1)
Summary: Matt fucked up.
He really, really fucked up.
Gavin is staring at him in shock and the rest of the crew is in various states of panic and alarm and Matt’s really fucked up now.
Notes: For @queen-bitchiest who asked for something based on this post that kind of sort of got away from me and is somewhat similar. /o\
(Read on AO3)
Matt fucked up.
He really, really fucked up.
Gavin is staring at him in shock and the rest of the crew is in various states of panic and alarm and Matt’s really fucked up now.
(To be fair, Gavin’s been pissing Matt off for the last forever, doing the stupidest shit and thinking it’s just fine and dandy and all of that and Matt has had fucking enough, okay? So much enough he doesn’t have the words for how much enough.)
“...What?”
Matt clears his throat, glancing at the others – still confused as hell and trying to make sense of the scene in front of them - and Matt’s bad knee is not enjoying any of this, okay.
So not.
“I said,” Matt says, clearing his throat again because that goddamn cough is acting up again. “Will you marry me, you piece of shit.”
There’s -
“Wow,” Jack says, first to recover. “Just. Wow, Matt.”
Michael has this look on his face like he’s been sucking lemons, hand clamped on Jeremy’s shoulder tight enough that even he’s wincing. Hissing at Michael to ease up a bit, Jesus Christ, Michael.
Matt has no fucking clue what that’s about, but hey whatever. He’s busy staring Gavin down like the idiot has a gun on him and fuck him anyway.
Idiot looks like he’s been through a meat-grinder, all bloody and beat up. Those fucking gold-framed sunglasses of his hooked into the collar of his shirt, lenses cracked and broken and goddamn him anyway.
“I’m pretty sure that’s not what you said before,” Ryan points out, quibbling just to quibble.
Geoff looks like he wishes these assholes he recruited could stop with their bullshit for like, five goddamn minutes for once.
Lindsay snaps a picture of Matt down on one knee in front of Gavin on her phone and sends it to someone. (Odds are good it’s Trevor who took Alfredo and Fiona out of town for a job because they have an agreement.)
And, okay, yes.
The first time Matt didn’t call Gavin a piece of shit – out loud, at any rate – but they all know he was thinking it. Especially after Gavin’s little adventure today.
“Matt,” Gavin says, strained note to his voice. “Could I have a word with you in private?”
Matt opens his mouth to tell him no, no he can not because he knows what Gavin’s about to say, but this being Gavin, eh doesn’t give him the chance.
No, Gavin pulls Matt to his feet and drags him along behind him as they head for the conference room, catcalls and Geoff’s despairing, “Don’t fuck in my conference room, you assholes!” following them.
========
The décor in the conference room is very...bland.
No-nonsense hardwood laminate and this odd off-white paint for the walls. Glass-topped conference table with brushed-steel legs.
The view’s nice, looks out over the city. You can see the mountains in the distance, and if it’s a clear day you can almost see Chiliad.
“Matt,” Gavin says, a little shaky. “What. What was that?”
Matt staring out the windows, but it’s the opposite of a clear day. Fat, heavy rain clouds with lightning and thunder out over Vinewood and moving towards the penthouse.
Supposed to be one hell of a storm rolling in, at least a couple of inches of rain before night rolls around.
Matt looks over at Gavin, who still looks like shit, by the way, and crosses his arms. (Gavin almost got himself killed today, and Matt is not okay with that in any way, as though that will change things. Make the reckless idiot think twice before pulling those stunts of his.)
“What?” Matt asks, frown on his face and just enough confusion thrown in there that for a moment Gavin looks like he’s doubting himself, what he thinks he heard in the penthouse’s living room. “I didn't say anything.”
And, alright.
That's pushing things a little too far because Gavin’s eyes narrow, all the stupid, reckless decision making abilities he has shoved aside to make way for the sharp-eyed bastard that enjoys playing dumb too damn much.
“There was a plan,” Gavin says, although which one he’s talking about is up for debate. “We had a plan, Matt.”
They did, didn’t they.
“Oh?” Matt says. “Which one might that be, Gavin? The one where you were supposed to stick with Ryan, and not go off on your own? Or maybe you mean the one where you avoid the pack of guards with itchy trigger fingers? Ooh, or maybe - “
God, there are so many plans Gavin could be talking about. And true, they’re all smaller components to the master plan for the heist, but still.
“Uh,” Gavin says, like he realizes he’s stepped into a mine-field here. “None of the above?”
Matt stares at Gavin.
Look, he knows, okay. Matt knows this...thing they’ve been doing the past few weeks is a farce. Knows none of it was real, was just Gavin being Gavin, trying to get the others off his back about his dating dry spell. (And it’s not like there’s a dating site for criminals or anything, so Matt doesn’t know what they were thinking, but whatever.)
Matt drew the short straw and he was fine, just fine with pretending to be Gavin’s plus one because hey, why not?
It was funny at first, watching the others react to the news Gavin was dating him. That he and Matt were a Thing. The expressions of horror and disgust as he and Gavin tried to out-do one another with pet names at every available opportunity, Matt trying to hold his shit together while Gavin simpered at him over the comms and just.
He kind of forgot for a while it wasn’t – look, he knows it will never happen, just.
Matt forgot, let himself get swept along in Gavin’s chaos and had fun. Enjoyed himself a little too much and -
Point is, point is, for the last few weeks Matt’s life has been a super crappy romcom, and he just made things worse.
There was supposed to be this dramatic breakup after the heist, just enough to have everyone else fall for it hook, line, and sinker. Get them to buy it the way they thought someone like Gavin would be interested in someone like Matt – great joke, right? - but Matt fucked that up.
Saw Gavin standing there after everything that happened giving him this look, all well? Get on with it then, we don’t have all day like he hadn’t come so damn close to dying, and Matt snapped.
Just.
Fucking snapped the way the betting pool Jack’s got going Matt’s not supposed to know about says he’s bound to one day with all the shit the crew gives him.
Matt snapped and instead of breaking up with Gavin he proposed to him.
Gavin’s still watching him.
Head tipped to the side and this little frown on his face, puzzling out what the hell’s gotten into Matt.
“Matt,” Gavin says, oddly formal about it. “While I know it can be confusing, breaking up rarely involves a marriage proposal.”
They kind of do? (Or maybe Matt’s lived a very different life from Gavin, because yeah. He's seen shit go down like this before.)
“Shows what you know,” Matt mutters.
Gavin sighs, and shuffles over to one of the conference room chairs. Makes this pained little noise as he sits down, winces just the tiniest bit.
“Matt,” he says, and gently pats the table. “Sit the hell down and talk to to me.”
Oh, such sweet nothings.
“I’m good where I am, thanks,” Matt says, always too stubborn for his own good.
Several minutes go by while Gavin studies him, wheels turning in that head of his.
Alright then, love,” Gavin says, and Matt’s fingers dig into his arm at how the term of endearment just slips off his tongue so easily.
Light and soft and not Matt’s alone because Gavin’s just as likely to call one of the others that or someone he bumps into on the street than Matt, so.
Yeah.
Not his, and he’s fine with that, but the past few weeks have fucked with Matt’s head a little too much. Gotten everything he used to keep (somewhat) neat and orderly in and locked down tight in his head all jumbled together and he’s just.
He’s tired.
“Matt,” Gavin says, concern creeping into his voice. “Are you okay?”
Matt kind of wants to laugh, or is it cry?
“I’m fine, Gavin,” he says, because he always is, right? Good old Matt Bragg, always there when the others need him, even if it’s to play fake boyfriend for some dumbshit. “Just fine.”
Gavin sighs, and when Matt looks over he realizes Gavin looks tired too.
Gotta be hurting like a son of a bitch too, after the day he’s had. Too many close calls and an unhealthy amount of explosions in his vicinity and all that.
“You should have someone look you over,” Matt says, done with this conversation. “You look like shit.”
Gavin’s mouth twists, but Matt’s not in the mood for his bullshit anymore.
“I’ve got...stuff to do,” he says. He trusts B-Team to have things in hand, all the post-heist work they have to do to keep the authorities off their backs, but he needs to be doing something. Cant’ just stand around with his thumb up his ass reliving one of the worst days of his life in his head while Gavin sits there staring at him like he doesn’t get it. “I’ll talk to you later.”
He leaves before Gavin can say anything else, pushes past the cluster of idiots outside the conference room doors and ignores the looks they give him as he does.
========
Matt hides out as much as he can for the next week, makes up excuses and flat-out lies to avoid facing the others in any capacity. (Thank God for B-Team running interference or he might have had to talk about his feelings.)
But then, you know.
The food poisoning hits, and he’s vulnerable like a turtle turtle turned on its back. Or is that tortoises?
Whichever one it is, he’s too sick to run when Trevor finally catches him.
“There you are.”
Matt doesn’t cringe, no.
That would just tip Trevor off as to Matt’s horrible life choices even more. No, Matt just feel his stomach clench up on him. (Could be the food poisoning, but he doesn’t get the accompanying nausea, just this all-over dread, so. Probably the feelings thing.)
“Matt?” Trevor asks, and then when Matt pretends he can’t hear him what with his headphones in, sternly, “Matt Bragg”
Matt would keep pretending he can’t hear Trevor, but then the asshole yanks the cord of his headphone out of Matt’s computer and he has to slap at the keyboard to mute the volume before it’s too late and Trevor hears what he’s listening to.
“Is that...Matt. Is that Sarah McLachlan ?”
Matt winces, and doesn’t deny it. (But oh, would he love to.)
“It’s a scientific fact,” Matt says, trying to hold on to whatever dignity he has left. “It's a scientific fact that listening to sad music after a breakup is beneficial.”
He’s pretty sure he just pulled that out of his ass, but whatever. The saddest song he can think of is from that one damned humane society commercial, God knows he feels like shit just thinking about it.
And...you know, the thing where he and Gavin weren’t actually dating, but. Uh. Details?
Trevor stares at him for a moment before shaking his head.
“Okay, whatever the hell that’s all about aside, I came to check on you.”
Well, obviously, what with Trevor picking the locks on Matt’s front door, yes.
“And!” Trevor continues, “I brought you a gift.”
That’s...concerning.
Deeply, deeply concerning.
Trevor’s smiling.
“Uh - “
Trevor’s smiling and Matt’s known him too long not to recognize the warning signs, and yet he’s still caught by surprise when Trevor reveals said “gift”.
“Bring him in!” Trevor calls out, like a demented game show host ushering in a contestant.
Behind Trevor Matt’s front door swings open to show Jeremy and a reluctant looking Gavin. Jeremy all but dragging Gavin inside, this manic grin on his face as he gives Gavin a little shove towards Matt and then blocks the door.
“Hey, Matt!” Jeremy says, and bright and cheerful and not a little terrifying. “Look who we found!”
Would you look at that? The nausea’s back, because Gavin’s not looking at him.
Is, in fact, looking at Trevor and Jeremy, everything thing about him screaming that he doesn’t want to be here, dear God you two, please let him leave,.
Trevor’s smiles kicks up another notch as he leans around Gavin and pins Matt with a look.
“You two kids play nice now,” he says with a wink. “We’ll be right outside.”
What.
“What?”
But Trevor borrows Matt’s earlier trick of selective hearing because he just waltzes right on out of Matt’s apartment with Jeremy and shuts the door behind them.
“Uh,” Matt says again, because what the hell? “Hey, Gavin.”
Gavin flinches, which is never a good sign.
He flinches, and turns to look at Matt.
Still looks like shit, but like. Less so.
The bruises are fading, no longer that dark, ugly purple Matt remembers from the penthouse. The cuts on his face and neck have scabbed over, should heal without scarring.
But there are dark marks under his eyes that weren’t there the last time Matt saw him, and he looks. Tired. Not the way he normally looks, burning the candle at both ends and thriving off it, no, he looks exhausted.
“You look like shit in a completely different way,” Matt says, because he’s never had a whole brain-to-mouth filter, and boy has that gotten him into trouble in the past. “No offense.”
Gavin makes a face at that, mouth quirking into the tiniest of smiles.
“Oh, no offense taken then since you said that, Matt,” he says, dumb little in-joke with them.
And then you know, an awkward pause.
Neither of them want to be here having the discussion they’re about to have because Trevor and Jeremy are assholes.
“I have a fire escape?” Matt offers, waves a hand more or less in the right direction. “But I have a feeling they roped Alfredo into this mess, and you know Alfredo.”
No doubt set up in a sniper’s nest in case they try to sneak out the back.
“Oh, they did,” Gavin says, eyes darting to Matt’s living room windows. “Fiona’s out there too.”
Jesus.
That’s something Matt didn’t need to know considering she has to be itching to take him down for all the shit he gives her.
“Awesome,” Matt says, because really.
Awesome.
Gavin’s watching Matt, this little frown between his eyes. All concerned and shit.
“You look terrible,” Gavin says, takes a step towards Matt before he stops himself, pulls the hand that was reaching towards him back with a jerky little motion. “Are you alright?”
Matt is super not alright, because the food poisoning. (And also his terrible life choices, but mainly the food poisoning at this point.)
“Well, you know,” Matt says. “Food poisoning will do that to you.”
Interestingly enough, Gavin winces. Opens and closes his mouth a few times like he’s got something to say and just doesn’t know how.
Like maybe he knows something Matt doesn’t, or just. Who even knows.
“Gavin?”
Gavin does the thing he does when he’s trying to translate from Gavin to English and failing, so he settles for vague hand gestures and words that are kind of sort of almost right with random noises thrown in.
It sounds like gibberish, and Matt can never tell if it’s some kind of British slang or Gavin’s brain shorting out.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t catch that?”
Gavin sighs, looking at Matt like he’s the idiot here.
“I said,” Gavin says. “You should be nicer to Sarah.”
Matt’s positive that isn’t what Gavin said, but sure.
Also.
“Wait.”
Gavin raises his eyebrows, corner of his mouth ticking up like he thinks something is hilarious but he doesn’t want to look like an asshole. (Too late, but Matt appreciates the attempt.)
“Wait.”
Matt likes Sarah, he does. Gives her a lot of grief because he likes her, because like everyone else in the crew it’s how he shows affection or some shit. (They’re all a fucked up.)
Problem is, Sarah is a monster of a human being.
Plays all sweet and nice, but Matt knows she’s plotting behind his back, waiting for the right moment to lay him low so she can take his place and rule with an iron fist or some shit.
Or, you know. Just lay him low because he gives her shit and she’s not someone who takes kindly to that, whichever.
“She brought me my lunch,” Matt says, feeling like a detective in some shitty Vinewood movie putting the pieces together.
Sarah brought Matt his lunch, and the the food poisoning happened and he was too busy trying to puke up his guts to ponder overmuch how the food poisoning happened, or question if it was intentional.
“Oh my God,” Matt says, impressed despite of himself because she was so smooth about it, all happy smiles and kind and generous to get lunch for B-Team, just doing a good deed and dear God she’s far more devious than he gave her credit for. “Oh my God.”
Gavin bites his lip, looks away. Doesn’t laugh at Matt while struggles to come to terms with this most heinous of betrayals, no.
God no, Gavin would never.
“If it helps,” Gavin says, shoulders shaking just the tiniest bit. “I’m certain Trevor put her up to it.”
That...yeah. That doesn’t surprise Matt as much. Trevor would thinking giving Matt food poisoning would give him the perfect opening to instigate this...whatever this is.
(Oh, everyone thinks Trevor’s the nice one. All polite and shit, but no. Trevor is the worst one in the entire crew, including Sarah.)
“Of course he did,” Matt mutters. “It’s Trevor.”
Gavin clears his throat, shuffles his feet.
Catches Matt eye for a moment, this smile on his face before he looks away again just as fast.
Looks awkward as hell and Matt can’t figure out if that little flicker of guilt he saw on his face before he did was real or just a figment of his imagination.
And then -
“I bollocksed everything up between us, didn't I?” Gavin asks, staring at the ugly little garden garden gnome statue Jeremy stole for Matt on a dare with a frown on his face. “Did everything all wrong.”
Matt says nothing. He’s not sure what he can say, so he lets Gavin talk it out since that seems to be what he needs right now.
Something about the crew giving him grief over his non-existent romantic life and Gavin having enough. Wanting just a little bit of peace and quiet on that front as he wrestled with crew business and gearing up for the heist and a million and one other things.
Matt makes noises in the appropriate places because knows all about that, remembers Gavin explaining it to him when he made that indecent proposal of his. (Should have been a warning sign he did it over dinner, took Matt out to one of his favorite places to sweeten the deal. Butter him up, all that stuff.)
“It just...” Gavin sighs, gives Matt this wry smile. “It all got out of hand.”
That’s one way to put it.
“I thought,” Gavin sighs again, frustrated. “I thought I had it under control. Figured it was just for a little while, that I wouldn’t...wouldn’t lose sight of things.”
Matt’s stomach does this little flip, a dip and roll and the nausea is...doing something. Has him sinking down on his couch and giving Gavin a wordless shrug as he mimes food poisoning kind of sucks at him, or something close enough that Gavin seems to get it.
Matt watches as Gavin takes a seat in the crappy arm chair on the other side of Matt’s coffee table. Sees him fiddle with the strings on his hoodie, worrying the knot between his fingers.
“Michael told me it was a bad idea,” Gavin says, mumbles almost. “Said I was playing with fire, going to get burned and all that, but I didn’t listen to him. Told him he couldn’t say anything, and you know how he is.”
Oh, Matt knows.
Asshole would have either gone to Matt the moment he figured everything out to fuck with Gavin or he’d have Gavin’s back the whole way. (Or a little bit of both, give Matt more shit than usual and drop little comments here and there that were confusing as hell at the time, but now? Yeah. That whole hindsight thing is a bitch.)
Gavin makes a face, waves his hand in even more vague gestures.
“Can’t keep a secret from Michael to save my life,” he says. “Bastard’s good at sniffing ‘em out.”
Or maybe he just knows Gavin that well. (Also, Matt’s will pass on the nose jokes because the mood in the room is all wrong. Noble sacrifice on his part right there.)
Gavin shrugs, like he knows what Matt’s thinking.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for it to go the way it did,” Gavin says, fingers moving on to picking the hoodie string apart, undoing the knot and unraveling the string. “But it was just too much bloody fun messing with the others, but then it...”
Gavin trails off, frowning at the bits of fabric stuck under his nails like he doesn’t know where they came from. Scowls as he sets to pulling them free, making a messy pile of shredded fluff on Matt’s coffee table like an asshole.
“It got complicated,” Matt finishes for him. Because it did. He knows what Gavin means, because it really was fun at first.
The two of them fucking with the others, and just enjoying the ride. Getting the chance to know one another better, which was the main problem. Kicked that crush Matt had on Gavin into overdrive. Made him realize that hey, wow, that little crush he’d had on Gavin since he joined the crew wasn’t middle school infatuation with the guy. That he had feelings for Gavin even though he damn well knew better than that.
Knew perfectly well what a piece of shit Gavin was and he still liked him. (Liked-liked, even.)
But by then it was too late to keep himself from getting hurt and he knew that, he did, he just didn’t give a damn.
Gavin plucks the last bit of cloth out from under his nails and sighs.
“Yeah,” he says, sounding tired and defeated and guilty as Matt’s ever heard him. “That.”
Which, okay, great. Nice to know and everything, but -
“I like you,” Gavin blurts out, still staring at his hands, his nails. “A lot, Matt. I like you a lot.”
Matt doesn’t know what that means in this context.
“Well,” he says. Stops. Thinks, or tries to, but he’s kind of an idiot. “That’s great to hear, Gavin. I like you too.”
God, they sound like toddlers.
No, worse, because toddlers can express their emotions. What the two of them are doing is just sad.
Gavin looks up at him, like Matt’s not understanding him.
“No,” he says, insistent. “I like you, Matt.”
...Okay?
Gavin stares at Matt, who looks back feeling like he’s missing something but no clue what it could be and oh, Jesus, he hates moments like these, okay. Really, really hates them because they end with Matt being used as bait or conned into doing something he super doesn’t want to be part of. (See: Pretending to Date Gavin-fucking-Free as just one example.)
“Oh my God,” Gavin says, laughter a little hysterical at the edges. “Oh my God, Matt.”
Matt freezes when Gavin shoves himself to his feet and climbs over Matt’s coffee table - “Hey, my coffee table!” - to stand in front of him.
Looks down at Matt with that frown on his face again, the puzzle-solving one and sighs as he gives Matt this smile.
Soft and warm and too...too much.
Has Matt trying to move, back away from him because no>, but there’s nowhere for him to go. Can’t climb over the back of the couch because his balance is shit at the moment, and also he’s not the athletic sort.
Also, he might puke if he tries it.
“Matt Bragg,” Gavin says, and gets down on his knees in front of Matt to put them on even ground.
...Even-ish.
“You’re kind of an idiot, Matt Bragg,” Gavin says, and the way his voice sounds is all kinds of unfair, just as soft and affectionate as that damned smile of his. “And I’m not sure why, but I like that about you.”
That’s. Wow. Flattering?
“Um, thanks?”
Gavin rolls his eyes, because Matt isn’t a hundred percent on board with whatever it is he’s doing here – giving Matt backhanded compliments while confusing the hell out of him maybe? - and shakes his head.
“I’d like to date you,” Gavin says in one big rush. Breathes. “Properly, I mean. Take you out to all your favorite...restaurants and to movies and all that.”
Matt squints at Gavin.
He knows that that hesitation regarding Matt’s “restaurants” was all about. Knows everyone in the crew cannot fathom how he hasn’t died of scurvy or malnutrition yet with the way he eats. Knows what Gavin thinks about all of it, and yet here he is being mildly insulting about it.
That’s Gavin making an effort, really trying. More than Matt ever hoped for, and it’s -
Matt likes it.
Likes that Gavin’s making an effort here, letting Matt see him like this when he’s always so guarded about things. (Laughs and jokes, sure, and always, always deflecting.)
He’s still having a hard time buying someone as brilliant, as vibrant as Gavin would be interested in someone as – well. Someone like Matt, but there’s this part of him that wants to because Matt knows Gavin’s a piece of shit, sure, but he’s not someone who’d knowingly set out to fuck with Matt’s feelings.
Leap of faith, trust fall. Something like that.
“Wow,” Matt says, and he doesn’t know if the way his heart kicks him in the chest is related to the food poisoning or something else, or if it’s anything to do with how nervous Gavin looks right now. “That really hurt you to say didn’t it.”
Gavin’s eyes widen, and Matt can see him jumping to all the wrong conclusions, so he just.
“Okay,” Matt says, and laughs at the way Gavin chokes a little bit between trying to apologize harder and the confusion at Matt’s easy agreement. “Yeah, okay. We can do that. The dating thing. I’m super on board with that.”
Gavin’s not wrong about Matt being an idiot, because talk about smooth, but hey. Gavin’s the idiot who wants to date Matt, so what does that say about him?
And yes, for the record Matt knows he’s insulting himself there, but seriously.
Gavin could have anyone he wanted and he’s choosing Matt.
And sure, there’s every chance this won’t work out between them, but that’s the risk anyone takes when they date someone, isn’t it?
Give him a little hope and he goes all optimistic, doesn’t he? Because it’s possible this can still blow up in their faces, but Matt’s trying to ignore that for the moment. Wants to believe it can (it can) work between them if they’re both willing to put in some effort, be a little more honest with one another.
“...I feel like you’re laughing at me, Matt Bragg.”
Matt pastes on an innocent expression, because good lord no, Gavin. He would never dare do such a thing.
“Perish the thought,” he says, and laughs at the look Gavin gives him because they’re both idiots and this is such a bad idea, but that’s kind of what they do, so there’s that.
Gavin sighs again, but there’s a smile playing on his lips and he looks. He looks happy, like he can’t believe Matt’s giving him a chance, second one or whatever this is, and that can’t be a bad thing.
“Hey,” Matt says, leans forward and waits until Gavin does the same. “I kind of like you too, Gavin.”
#braggvin#mattvin#ragehappy#fahc au#queen-bitchiest#Prompt Fills#Kings of Nowhere#vagrant fic#this was supposed to be short and sweet?and yet here we are#lol#XD
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take the chance, take the turn
braggvin (mattvin) // 7600+ words // racing au
Description: Running shitty people off is something Matt can claim responsibility for, but it's not Matt's fault that he keeps getting said shitty people to work with. Despite the argument, Geoff isn't having it, and soon, Matt only has one more chance to make it work. In comes someone named Gavin Free.
Extra notes: i am an absolute sucker for this rarepair, please talk to me about it!! also, i highly recommend reading this on AO3 because the notes there explain important terms.
This is posted on AO3 here ! Fic also below the cut.
(one.)
“You can’t keep going off at the team just because they said something you didn’t like, y’know. You’re starting to get a real bad rep, Matthew.”
Geoff’s arms are crossed across his chest and paired with the frown lingering on his lips, he’s not at all happy with Matt’s performance. In a rare instance, Geoff looks more like the owner of a prestigious NASCAR team that he is and less like his usual, sleepy self. On his tongue disappointment is a weapon, sharpened and poised at Matt’s throat.
They’re sat at a local bar in Florida, the location of the first race of the season, and they converse in a corner booth away from everyone else. The pit crew and other close friends had left already after a socially acceptable amount of congratulations on Matt’s win; their excuses all danced around the same reasoning of busy schedules, but no one could ignore the weight of the mounting tension between the two heads. One by one they had left, until it left just Matt and Geoff sitting across each other on opposing sides.
“It’s not cheap to run a team, ‘specially if I gotta run interference on your ass 90% of the time,” says Geoff. And if it wouldn’t land his ass in even hotter water, Matt would’ve fucked off by now – this is Geoff’s usual speech, his opening line. Matt knows the whole spiel by now, but he likes his job enough to keep silent. Even kind Geoff could be pushed past his limits. “That’s the fifth crew chief you’ve ran out in two seasons. Two! I can’t just pick any hire up from the street to be in this position.”
Matt stifles the huff that threatens to escape him, already feeling tired of the conversation. He knows that Geoff is only looking out for him – has been, ever since he was recruited by luck in that empty raceway he called home. There’s only so much a driver with a celebrity status can do before people start to turn heads and watch every action with scrutinizing eyes. Matt can’t act how he wants, and sometimes it takes a stern reminder from Geoff.
“You know I’m not trying to get a bad rep on purpose, Geoff,” Matt mumbles. He hunches over to hide, and his arms wrap around himself; he can’t find it in him to make eye contact with Geoff, not when he knows that Geoff is still always right about this topic. “You should’ve heard the guy anyway. He sounded so fuckin’ condescending!” Matt’s eyes set into a glare at the thought of the crew chief earlier, staring off into nothing. “What was he expecting? For me to listen to him when I know he’s wrong and an asshole?”
He doesn’t manage to bite back the scathing words in time, overwhelmed with the irritation and annoyance from the crew chief he made resign. By the time that Geoff has a hand at his head, thumb pressing to his temple, Matt is too late to realize that he’s stepped out of line already.
There’s a brief moment of silence that reigns between them. Cold and exhausted and foreboding – neither of them want to deal with this.
“You’re a good driver, Matthew, I’ll give you that. You won the opening race today,” Geoff finally says clippedly. He pauses as finishes the dregs of his soda, before the metal can clatters as he slams it down on the table between them, every emotion of his hiding behind the force. “But you’re acting like a brat. This wasn’t the Matthew I hired all those years ago.”
Geoff pauses there. His eyes fall shut, and Matt can see the way Geoff’s shoulders tremble as he tries to calm down – deep breath in, deep breath out. It repeats over and over again. Geoff has never wanted to be an angry man, and Matt feels guilt twist inside him for pushing Geoff so far.
It’s minutes later when Geoff opens his eyes again, looking like his usual, sleepy self again. The NASCAR team owner is a tiring personality to play, Matt knows, after being Geoff’s driver for years now. He also knows that Geoff isn’t as angry about the issue now, just more concerned, and it bleeds through in the way his brows furrow and his lips frown.
The years in this business haven’t always been kind to Geoff, and Matt can feel the beginnings of an apology on his lips.
“Get your act together. I called in an old friend of mine, Gavin Free, to act as your crew chief for the next race. You’re lucky he doesn’t know about your reputation,” Geoff informs him. Quiet, subdued. Unsettling. “Do me a favor, Matt, and try not run this one off. He’s a good friend, a better crew chief. He’ll lead you well through the rest of the season if you’d let him.”
Matt just stays silent, sobered up by the conversation. The name Gavin Free runs through his head.
(two.)
"Testing, testing. 1, 2, 3. Can you hear me, Matt?"
Matt shifts in his seat, adjusting the headset as he does so and clicks the 'Connect' button on his end, makes sure that voice is enabled at all times. He doesn’t want to put in the extra effort of clicking a button to speak each time "I hear you loud and clear. You hearing me alright?"
"Perfect!" Gavin giggles from his end, and a small sound of shuffling papers follow him. "We only have a little bit until we have to line up. Thank god you have an easy number to remember for pole position, but it does give us less time to talk really. You ready for this race?"
Matt tugs on his racing gloves and fixes up his driving suit with a soft scoff, his hands fiddling with the wrinkled spots. Less of a necessity and more of a self-comforting gesture, it's habit by now as a way to calm himself down before he gets hit with too much nervous adrenaline. "I've raced this circuit plenty of times. I'm more than ready, and I already know how to maneuver this track well. It's one of my favorites.”
There’s no clear reply to his message, just this small hum of acknowledgement, and something about it is already setting his short fuse on fire. Maybe it’s from learning to expect the worst from crew chiefs or the presence of a new person leading him, but suddenly, it feels like a slight against him. It plays a flashback to all those other crew chiefs he hated, but at least previous ones acknowledged him. What if this is a way to put him down by ignoring him?
He can’t bite his tongue. Can’t help but let the words escape: "Y'know, if you have something to say, you can say it. I'll be pissed if it's condescending, but I can't reach you until the end of the race at least."
To Matt's surprise and indignation, that manages to pull a short bark of laughter from Gavin just as squeaky as his normal voice. "Appreciate the honesty, mate. But genuinely, I don't really have much to say in response, and I was mulling what you said over anyway. As much as I appreciate Geoff for trusting in my ability to lead you, he's...forgotten that I haven't been to this track in a while," Gavin confesses. "It's good you know your way around here. I'll try my best to improve on your own tricks, just keep me in the loop if you do something more reckless, yeah?"
And Matt - he feels a funny twist of an ache in his chest at how easy Gavin's taken his words in stride. Meant to be challenging as a way to pull out the crew chief's hidden agenda towards him, piss him off while at it, Matt's unsure on what to do with a crew chief who's willing to work with him. His brain fizzles to a halt long enough that he misses the announcement for the cars to get into their lineups. It takes a knock on his window from one of his pit crew members to get his head on straight again.
"Oh, fuck, shit," he curses under his breath. That earns another laugh from Gavin's end, but it's not...condescending. Just genuninely amused. It's enough to leave Matt even more flustered and confused about this new crew chief of his that he wants to hate but can't seem to do so as easily like the others. He tries to play his bluster off, just grumbling, "This better not be a sign of how the race is gonna go. Not after I got pole position in the the Florida race..."
// // //
"Christ, I forget how exhausting watching cars race 85 laps is. People pay to watch this entire thing, and I'm still baffled by it, honestly."
Matt rolls his eyes from his seat, glad that Gavin would never know about the action. As much as it’s nice to not be constantly demeaned or ordered by a crew chief, Gavin as a crew chief means a different sort of talking -- the sort that involves inane hypotheticals and fluff filling in space where silence would be. He can't deny that he's more appreciative of this type of crew chief, but it’s grating on his nerves. All Matt wants right now is to focus.
He grunts as he turns down Gavin's volume. Not all the way or else Geoff will have his ass for being disrespectful towards the crew chief again , but just enough that he can process his own thoughts again. It's amazing how much easier it is to function when he can focus on his driving and not the mindless chatter of a charmingly idiotic man.
Taking a deep breath, he peers at the rest of his competition in front of him. His starting position hadn't been all for naught, but a sense of failure is starting to bubble up inside him; he's led about a quarter of the race laps already, but it means nothing when he's been pushed back to third position for the last ten or so. He knows that the two drivers in front of him can catch up quickly to his amount of leading laps, and if he wants to qualify into the final race, he has to be the first to cross the line.
The rumbling of his car is the loudest thing he can hear, and Matt barely manages to hear the announcers' voice from the watchtower as he crosses the line for another time: "5 laps remaining! Looks like Risinger is still in first and Gibson in second. They may be heading the rest of this race, but Bragg looks to be still hot on their tail! Can he overcome them and keep his pole position?"
Matt scowls, and his foot pushes harder on his pedal. It's becomes more dangerous as he nears the end, knows that if he doesn't up his game now, then he's only going to lose. His eyes dart around as he turns around the bend, trying to find any way to squeeze past Gibson, maybe Risinger if he’s lucky enough to catch them in a bad maneuver – even just one or two more leading laps might be enough to score him more points than them.
He’s tunnel visioning, but it's when he turns around the next curve of the race – sees the familiar indicator of a new lap on the other side of their current position – that his radio crackles to even more life. Distracts him completely so from reaching his zone.
"Matt! Matt! Can you hear me? Hellooo?"
With a huff, he turns up the volume again with some regret. "'Course I can! But I'm currently busy right now, trying to get ahead of these two, and I can't answer any bullshit questions!"
"It's not bullshit questions, first off, they’re curious situations. And second, I’m gonna tell you how to take over second position, you smegpot!" There's a shuffling sound of papers following after Gavin's exclamation. "Okay, second position? Fast driver but always way too cautious! People always fight for the inner track during turns, but Gibson doesn't always. He might play it safe next turn, so try to speed up there."
Matt raises a brow - Gavin noticed that? Even for a crew chief, things like that were difficult to spot; applying it was even more so, when racing was never stagnant. It's a dangerous suggestion, bordering on an assumption with less-than-ideal proof. Any other driver would be adverse to it, rather take the third position as a safety option and choose to hedge their bets on racing better during the next qualifying race.
“You know that’s always dangerous, speeding too fast during a turn?” Matt says, as if danger isn’t his hobby and his muse. “Might spin out of control if I’m not careful.”
“What? You don’t wanna do it? Thought that was your thing, toeing the line being competent and being a madman.”
Matt scoffs. His foot is already set to push down on the foot pedal when the turn comes. “You’d be surprised how blurred the line is between them.”
And that’s answer enough for Gavin, the way his amused hum sounds out over the radio. They both know that Matt's never been one of those other drivers; what else could the data of resigned crew chiefs dictate? “Better prove it to me then!"
Gavin’s words only brings a wild grin to his lips, and suddenly, Matt’s car is shooting forward towards second position as fast as his adrenaline is rising. Any sign of nervousness is imperceptible behind the excitement of such a plan, and then he's honing, honing, honing in-
His car's tire screeches against the road, high and shrill as he takes that turn too fast, too messily. He's usually more graceful than this, but he can't find it in himself to care, this little bit of recklessness, when there's only one car in front of him instead of two; a quick glance at the rearview mirror and an ear trained towards the audience only confirms his success.
“And would you look at that? Ramsey’s driver is proving himself once again, to be one of biggest threats of the competition. That was one hell of a maneuver there,” the announcers chuckle.
"Woohoo, Matt! That was both the world's shittiest and best turn ever!" Gavin exclaims, and the radio crackles with the volume. “Not too shabby, honestly.”
"Shut the fuck up, Gavin," Matt says, but he's grinning too much to feel any real bitterness. His heart is still beating fast from the rush, and the surprise from the crowd only fuels it. Second position is miles better than third, but he's still gunning for first. "Look, you got any more of that shit for first position? Any way to pass him by?"
"Why, Matthew, I thought you'd never ask." Matt can practically hear the cheshire grin that must be playing on Gavin's lips. "You sure your car can handle the last laps without that original pit stop? Because I'm going to need you to go as fast as you can."
And well, what else can Matt do but go full speed? After all, it's what the crew chief requested of him to do.
(three.)
"Your time's getting well fast! Faster by .046 seconds, and pushing about .28 miles per hour faster," Gavin informs Matt after jogging up to the driver’s window with statistics about his most recent practice lap. “Still awful using US conversions, but I suppose it’s meant to help you and not me, innit?”
“ Well fast ,” Matt mocks. He rolls his eyes at the other as he puts the brakes on, but he doesn’t say anything else against the comment; not because he refuses to agree with Gavin, not at all, but because it’s off topic. Definitely. “And random opening line, but alright. That’s not a bad improvement at all though.”
“Definitely not! We’ll just have to see though if you can keep it up in the actual race. Consistency is key here,” Gavin says with an excited, little grin. He looks over his notepad where he’s been keeping track of Matt’s statistics before he nods with a hum, circling the most recent time and speed. He looks at the rows of numbers with something almost akin to pride unknowingly, and Matt has to look away at the sight.
Ever since the second race of the season, when Geoff had first introduced Gavin with barely more than his name and Gavin had won him first place in that qualifying race, Matt’s been getting used to the guy. ‘Like’ is still far too strong of a word, but...tolerate is acceptable. That's what Matt’s been doing, and it’s easier than he had thought.
Gavin’s talkative, excessively so if you let him ramble on for more than necessary, but Matt can concede that Gavin’s also interesting . Makes the constant, random conversations less of a drag and entertains Matt enough on most races, if Gavin being clumsy or easily confused hasn’t already. It helps that their humor meshes well, and it makes Matt feel a little less lonely in the driver’s seat.
(It’s also nice to have a partner in crime to bicker with Geoff together. Every day they spend together, Matt swears he can see Geoff’s eyes slowly turn more regretful at introducing them to each other.)
Much more important though, and the only thing Matt would voice out willingly: Gavin understands him as a driver. And that’s not something that Matt say about the past crew chiefs he’s had to work with, remembering how they refused to work with him first. Expecting Matt to bend to their whims, to not retaliate, is like expecting a cat not to claw you after bothering it.
The crew chief has sway over the driver, but it’s in the driver’s hands to make all the choices. Skilled or famed, a crew chief isn’t worth shit if their driver doesn’t want to work with them. Matt’s already had his fair share of them, and he can’t deny that getting Gavin was lucky.
How Gavin knows that, for the most part, Matt is independent; he’s a person who hates forceful orders, likes to do things the way he does whether it’s because of familiarity or adrenaline. Gavin knows the types of maneuvers that Matt prefers, his limit on his skill and execution, his pit stop habits, and even the right words to say when a race is getting tougher than either of them expected. He’s not like any of those stuffy chiefs either, intent on winning for their own reputation and nothing else.
“Right, that’s enough laps for now, yes?”
Matt lets out a distracted noise as he’s pulled out of his thoughts, and he tries to ignore the slight burning of his cheeks. Spending that much thought on Gavin, of all people, feels like a crime. “Wh-What? Already?”
Gavin cocks a brow, and he must be wondering what’s gone wrong with Matt. Matt’s thinking the same, if he’s being honest; he doesn’t know why Gavin is making him feel so much more flustered than usual – why he’s putting in more thought about the man.
“I think it really is time for a break then. It’s almost lunch, Matthew!” Gavin clicks his tongue, and an expression akin to concern is brewing in his eyes. It twists something inside Matt’s chest, deep behind his ribs. “You’re usually sighing at me and cheering on ‘bout how it was finally time. Is there a problem bothering you or summat?”
Matt doesn’t answer immediately, looking up at Gavin with furrowed brows. His chest is feeling funny with how his heart is racing, faster than even his own car out on the track, and he can’t find the words to explain what’s wrong. Something has to be wrong, since he’s feeling all of these weird things. They’re new experiences, and the unknown of it is unsettling. Absolutely mortifying.
But he doesn’t think he can explain it to Gavin – not right now, at least, or maybe even never – so he doesn’t. “Nah, just got distracted there for a moment,” Matt responds. He’s aiming for casual as he gives a lazy shrug and smile, even when he feels the farthest thing from it. “I was busy wondering about how lucky I am to not get that nose of yours.”
“Huh?! H-Hey, that’s a low blow, Matthew, and you know it!”
And Matt just barely listens as he steps out of his car. This odd, little background noise of his crew chief grumbling and slinging half-assed insults, he tries not to think again about the real reason why he’s so lucky.
(Gavin doesn’t need the ego boost, if he’s being frank.)
(four.)
It’s after hours, the bustling crowd that comes with a race already having fizzled out hours ago. With it went the noisy cheers and announcements to leave behind an unsettling quiet. There’s a single, dingy light operating in the garage, and dust particles move in a flurry as Matt gestures wildly.
“Look, I don’t understand why you’re so fucking mad at me.” Matt sighs as he rubs at his temple, a small headache already throbbing at his forehead. “Did I do something wrong somehow? I won the race, I worked with you, and hell, even Geoff seemed happy! Why are you pissed?”
Gavin throws his hands up with an annoyed noise, as if retaliation for Matt’s current ire. He looks tired, even more so than Matt, and maybe if they hadn’t been locked in this stupid argument, Matt would care more. Certainly not now, though. A fight is a fight, especially a sudden one like this.
“I’m not mad, I’m just trying to get you to understand my perspective,” says Gavin, a tightness to his voice that usually isn’t present. He sounds like he’s struggling to keep himself civil and calm, and despite Matt’s irritation, a sliver of dread creeps up on him – no one’s ever really seen Gavin genuinely mad.
Matt tries his best to match Gavin’s own struggle. Whether it’s for the sake of his own composure or the bubbling fear at the thought of a truly angry Gavin, he doesn’t know. He just replies, in a clipped tone in an awful attempt at calm, “You’re not really explaining it to me, Gav. What is it? Why’d you get mad at me?”
He watches how Gavin seems to splutter at that, flustered and frustrated because that's the thing – Matt knows Gavin can’t explain his side well. Words have never been Gavin’s forte, and it only gets worse when he’s emotional. Combine it with confrontation, and it’s a recipe for a complete and utter disaster.
Gavin’s lips purse together, his arms coming together to cross in front of his chest. Defensive, secretive. Unsure . Eventually, something clicks in his brain enough for Gavin to explain with, “You were a prat today. A complete, cocking idiot.”
And okay . That’s one way to explain things, albeit useless as all hell. Something might have clicked, but not enough to actually move the conversation forward. It rests on Matt to figure out the rest, he supposes.
“I...Okay, so I’m an idiot, meaning I probably did something stupid?” Matt looks questioningly at Gavin; he gets a nod back, meaning he’s right on that front and also slightly offended. But whatever he did anyway, it must have been on the track during the race. “Was it a driving maneuver I did?” Another question, another nod.
Matt sighs, scrubbing the front of his face with his hands — there’s no counting how many kinds of maneuvers he’s made in today’s race, how is he supposed to know which one pissed Gavin off? It’s starting to get to him, this conversation. He just wants to be back in their hotel room to sleep off the day’s weariness, before they’d have to be running around for work again.
“Look, can you just tell me which one? Describe it just a little, for fuck’s sake, and I’ll figure out the rest!” Matt is exhausted. Gavin must be too. It sucks like all hell for the both of them. “You probably want this talk to be finished as much as I do.”
That earns him a glare from Gavin, but Matt can’t find it in himself to care about that. He just stands there, slightly looming over Gavin in a slow countdown of his waning patience – waiting, waiting, waiting for an answer.
(And he does, even when he feels like the last thread of his patience is gone, because this is Gavin . Gavin, who he can’t lose as a crew chief after the previous failures and definitely not because he inexplicably has a soft spot for him. It’s all Geoff’s fault, putting him in this situation.)
“It was during the last lap,” Gavin says with a huff. “You were stressed, because you were in fifth position, and you were right by third and fourth. You didn’t know if you’d qualify for the next race if you got fifth.”
Matt’s brows furrow. “Okay, yeah, that’s about right? It turned out I did qualify, even in fifth, but wh—”
“You did a shite manuever! One that I told you not to do, and you didn’t listen!” Gavin interrupts, hands flying into the air. “I usually don’t care if you ignore me, because I trust you to do the right moves, but that? That was real dumb of you, Matthew!”
“You’re still not fucking explaining it to me! What made that one move shitty compared to all the other things I did, huh?!”
“Because you could’ve been hurt!”
Matt doesn’t reply. He’s busy giving a confused look, brows furrowed before oh – and now looking wide-eyed, like a doe trapped in headlights at the sudden declaration from Gavin’s side. He’s caught up in the twisted frown on Gavin’s lips and the watery, concerned expression of his eyes.
He can’t find the right words to say, if there are any to begin with.
Gavin seems to take the silence as a cue to keep talking, his fingers fiddling with a loose stray on his sleeve. “It’s just...you were panicking. And you were desperate to move up a place, so you tried to take over fourth, but you were too close. I tried to tell you that there wasn’t enough distance even if you matched its speed, that you wouldn’t have a chance at all to get a higher place, not unless you wanted to...y’know. Cause an accident. It was too reckless, and you only got out safely, because the others knew what you were doing and distanced themselves. I–”
He finally pauses, realizes his entire jumble of words, and he seems to deflate. His shoulders sag with his head looking down and anger dissipating like steam. Gavin looks small like this.
And Matt – he can’t help but do the same, a heated feeling of shame boiling inside him. All along, Gavin was irritated, because Matt was being reckless. The worst type of idiot that he could have been on the racetrack. “Fuck, goddamit, Gavin,” Matt starts, already intent on berating himself.
He hates admitting defeat as much as anyone else does, especially to Gavin of all people, but this isn’t like their usual arguments; they were all bicker and banter, the easiest way for them to communicate with each other. This is Gavin, rarely rattled and always unbothered, confessing a fear that only luck and others’ competency managed to impede on.
“Gav–”
Gavin interrupts him near instantly. “Look, I know you like to choose what moves to do and when, and I support it. But only when I know that you can get out of it safely, if it’s compromised,” Gavin explains. Matt does his best to listen completely. “What you did was reckless and selfish back there, and that's saying a lot coming from me, Matthew. I’m your crew chief, and I’m a well lenient one, but...what’s the point if you won’t listen when I need you to?”
He sighs, tired. “I know how these things go. I wouldn’t be a crew chief if I didn’t know all this shite about racing.”
Matt understands now, or at least he thinks he does. He remembers Geoff’s words a long time ago in that local bar and all of the crew chiefs he’s run off without giving it a second thought. How he didn’t listen to either of them once, and only to Geoff when it was serious enough to warrant Geoff to use his authority card. How his own attitude didn’t help the crew chiefs, even if he did think they deserved it.
Watching Gavin stand in front of him now, defeatist nature in plain view with his shrunken stature, Matt feels the searing heat of mortification behind his cheeks. He really has been an idiot, hasn’t he?
Before he can stop himself or subject himself to another of Gavin’s interruptions, Matt reaches out for Gavin – tucks him in close in a tight hug. Chest to chest, his arms fully looping around, and his face pressing against the top of Gavin’s head. He hopes it’s enough for Gavin to see how much Matt, touch averse and always playfully mean towards him, means his next words.
“Sorry for being a prat today,” Matt mumbles into the mess labeled Gavin’s hair. He tries not to think too much about how quickly Gavin had clung onto him, how Gavin is holding onto him so tightly as if letting go meant Matt would disappear. Tries not to focus on the swell of guilt that rises and lodges itself in the back of his throat. “I...should’ve been more careful.”
A brief silence travels between them, and for a moment, Matt thinks that Gavin is about to scold him again. Except he soon feels the way hesitant arms wrap around him, slow and unsure, and the warmth that surrounds him; then the feeling of a nose poking at his collarbone from a face in hiding, and Matt can’t resist it.
“Is offering me your nose a sign we’re good now? I mean, I still wouldn’t want to carry that nose around, but it’s the thought that counts.”
“Matt, you prick! We were having a moment!”
“Not sorry, Gav,” Matt laughs, his heart feeling lighter when he hears British insults and a tentative smile cross Gavin’s lips. He lets himself have this, not hiding how every system is alive at this shared moment between them.
Something more than a just a simple moment, something less than what it could be.
(five.)
“Last few races, we’ve been getting a little unlucky, but I think it’s going to change this time.” Gavin’s confident statement makes Matt cock an eyebrow, looking at the other with an expression of ‘Okay, and where is this going?’ He barely budges when Gavin slugs a weak punch towards his shoulder. “Look, I’m just saying! I feel like you’ll win this one, cross my heart.”
“That’s a lot of pressure on me, dude,” Matt says. He rummages through his personal locker in the garage, grumbling while he does so, to look for his race suit today. “Also, I dunno. Tom’s racing with me today, and he got pole position, like he always fuckin’ does. Asshole.” And oh, like a magic word, insulting Tom leads to Matt finally finding his race suit.
Gavin giggles from his seat on the bench next to where Matt is standing by his locker, casually swinging his legs. “It’s the rivalry of a lifetime, innit? Tom’s always so nice though, it’s a shame. At least it’ll feel good when you crush him into a pulp after this race!”
“Jesus Christ, Gav…”
Matt’s concern over his crew chief’s joy at inflicting such damage on Tom doesn’t abate, but it is put on hold momentarily. Pushes it to the backburner in his brain to focus on suiting up this troublesome outfit. This troublesome position, rival. This terrifying race. He feels jittery.
It takes more time than it should with how stiff and plasticy-seeming the suit is, thanks to the fireproof nature for the sake of safety. He bites his lower lip in concentration as he slips it up his legs and pushes his arms through, trying to find the zipper in the mass of fabric. But he can’t seem to hold onto it, grip clammy with building sweat, and his thoughts are spiralling. He’s distracted.
“Matt, love, you alright?”
Gavin’s voice is quiet and low, a stark difference from his usual tone. Matt can’t find it in himself to say much, just lifts his head for his gaze to meet Gavin’s worried own. He opens his mouth and shuts it, open-close, open-close, until he just shakes his head. His hands are trembling.
“Oh, love, you’re really nervous for this race, aren’t you?” Gavin’s hands are soft as it sneaks its way into Matt’s own, their fingers twining with each other’s. He gives a gentle squeeze, and Matt swears that he’s stopped breathing. His eyes are wide, heart racing fast, and he’s feeling off-kilter for a completely different reason now. “C’mon, talk to me, Matthew.”
Matt tries, being left speechless for a moment, as his gaze unwavers from Gavin’s; he wonders if his cheeks are lighting up pink. “I, uh, it’s...just the race, yeah,” he barely stammers out. It takes him longer than it should to get his brain in working order, to try and push past how warm and perfect-fitting Gavin’s hands are. Definitely just the race making him nervous. “Tom’s been my rival forever, and he won the last two championships. I wanna knock him off his pedestal, but...I’m kinda fucking that up right now.”
“What? What are you on about? You haven’t done anything to cock anything up! Just ‘cos you’re not in first and he is doesn’t mean you’ve lost already.”
And yes, that’s true, but overthinking doesn't believe in that – brain, meet the awful, invasive thoughts. “I’ve made it pretty damn hard to win though! And I always find some way to fuck something up, and I’m just gonna watch Tom win again, because–!”
“Because nothing, Matthew!” Gavin pulls his hand away to cup Matt’s cheek, to make him look directly at Gavin and the intensity in his eyes. “You’re a bloody amazing driver, and you’re going to do good in the race. You can’t count yourself out already!”
Matt lets out a low, pained noise. His insecurity is rearing its head, and for the first time in a long while, he feels unconfident in his driving. And as much as he loves Tom as a friend, having Tom as a rival feels like a nightmare at times. “You literally can’t guarantee that, Gavin.”
Gavin huffs, squishing Matt’s cheek. “Okay, fine, you’re right. But I can guarantee that you’ll do your best,” he reassures, “plus, I might have someway to motivate you. Did you know that I actually came out of my mini retirement on Geoff’s behalf to lead you?”
“Hold on, retirement? From what? Geoff never fuckin’ told me!” Matt’s eyebrows shoot up, his mouth falling open. That’s complete news to him, and the shock diverts his attention from his useless feelings. “And what does that have to do with motivation?”
That earns Matt a quick roll of the eyes and a soft flick to his forehead. “That’s ‘cos I don’t let Geoff tell people. I retired after a nasty incident on the raceway– hey, don’t look so shocked! Most crew chiefs were former drivers, y’know!” Gavin pouts when he sees a starstruck look enter Matt’s expression, and he tries to hide his pinkening face. “Anyway...a few races ago, Tom and I had a lil’ chat. Turns out he knew my past, and he, uh, tried to hire me for next season.”
Matt blinks. Processes the words, because oh , that’s even more news to him; when had Tom find the time to talk to Gavin in private? And who does Tom think he is that he can waltz in, trying to snap up Gavin for himself? That’s abso-fucking-lute bullshit, in Matt’s eyes. His eyes narrow in a glare, a canine slightly bared as ‘pissed off’ overtakes the ‘nervous’ setting.
“Woah, woah, woah! Calm down, love,” Gavin soothes. He brushes his thumb over Matt’s cheek, these slow and soft motions, and Matt huffs as he calms down.. “I turned him down anyway. I’m your crew chief, first and foremost. Not anyone else’s.”
Gavin brings Matt close to rest their foreheads against each other’s, and Matt can’t deny how nice it feels. That, and the knowledge that Gavin is loyal to him – calls himself his crew chief, like an unintentional claim for Matt. It barely settles down the bristling feeling inside him.
Matt brings his hands up to rest on Gavin’s hips, pressing fingertips into the shirt. “Still doesn’t change that Tom tried to steal you. Fuck my previous words, I am going to crush Tom in this race,” Matt glowers. He can’t help but turn his head towards the garage opposite his where said rival is preparing in, only slightly trying to burn Tom with his glare. “He has his own fuckin’ crew chief, greedy bastard!”
Gavin rolls his eyes, but he’s grinning, this wild and fiery thing at the sight of Matt’s soul searing again. “That’s the spirit! Fight for me, Matthew!” He pumps his fist in the air, and he does a little dance to go alongside it; bright and peppy, it makes Matt’s heart soar at how adorable the sight is.
Now, he’s given two reasons to fight harder. To force those insecurities down and drive like there’s no tomorrow in today’s race. Damn right he’s going to do exactly that.
“Chin up, Matthew,” Gavin says. He moves to zip up the rest of Matt’s racesuit, presses together the velcro collar, and smoothes out the wrinkles that formed. His hands don’t move from Matt’s shoulder, and his eyes are brimming with belief for a win today. “I really can feel our luck turning around this race. Trust me on that, yeah? I’m your crew chief, after all.”
And Matt listens.
(six.)
Trust goes far. Extremely so.
If anyone asks Matt about the last few laps of the race, he’ll give an honest answer – he can’t remember much but bits and pieces. The important parts of the race, in his eyes, at least.
Like the fears that lingered for most of the last few laps. The fear of being so close but still so far, of being not enough despite his attempts; he’d been racing for so long, yet with nothing official to show for it yet while Tom had done so twice. Then there’s failing Gavin when he said he’d fight for his crew chief, said with so much conviction, it’d be a shame to fall short. And that’s only the biggest ones. There had been a lot of things on his mind besides driving as he approached the last lap. Maybe not the best time for it, but what could he do now?
The last lap is the messiest memory of them all; there’s the tauntingly familiar back of Tom’s car, decals of every sponsor (far more than Matt’s) littering it and mocking Matt for another loss. It flits in and out of his vision as their struggle for dominance teeters between them evenly. There’s the hard press of a lead foot and the revving of an engine being worked to death, maybe even a few sputters from the force.
It’s the thought of ‘just a little faster, just a little more’ repeating itself constantly that’s the clearest bit. There had been a sharp voice – clear and demanding, usually so distracting now a blessing – telling him “pass him, pass him now! on his left, he took a wide turn, it’s open!” that shook him. Had him tilting his steering wheel left without thinking, lead foot even heavier, and then –
“Matthew, Matthew, Matt! You won!”
Gavin’s voice is crackling the radio with its volume. It echoes loudly in the car as Matt finally eases his foot off the gas and slams down on the brake. He’s fucking shaking in his seat at the news, his eyes watery with about-to-fall tears and cheeks turning red from the emotions welling up in him. Adrenaline is still heady as it pumps through his veins, and he finds his brain still shut down from the intensity of the last lap to reply back. He falls back against his seat, slouches down, and he rests his head in his hands.
He won. Oh, Christ, he won.
The laughter that bubbles out of him is only slightly maniacal, because he won! His entire upper half is shuddering with his laughter and glee, and he doesn’t notice how the other side of the radio is radio silent. Not when he does notice the loud rumble of a crowd’s footsteps getting louder, getting closer to him.
He’s teary as he looks up and sees the proud expression on Geoff’s face. He can’t muster the will to push Geoff away when the man opens up the door to pull Matt out and up into a hug; close and meaningful, Geoff is overjoyed as he swings Matt around in the hug. Geoff is so, so proud.
“You absolute, fucking maniac! I can’t believe you pulled a victory like that outta your ass!” Geoff wheezes when he finally sets Matt down, but he doesn’t ease up on the contact. Keeps his arm slung around and gives the kindest noogie that a person could ever give. “Everyone was shocked! You snatched victory right outta Fawkes’ hand!”
“Jesus, I,” Matt finally manages to croak out. His voice feels shot despite barely using it. “I couldn’t believe it either. But...it was Gav, it was all him. Was yelling so loudly about the maneuver, and I just listened, and...he did it. He won it for us.”
Geoff snorts. He sniffles quietly as he gives a small smile – always been a sappy, teary kind of person – and his head turns away to look at someplace in the mass of people that formed. “Gav did, huh? He’s always been a lucky kid, pulling miracles out of thin air like it’s nothing. And speaking of him, there he is!”
Matt rubs at his watery eyes, looking at where Geoff is pointing at as the weight on his shoulders recedes. And suddenly, the crowd parting like the Red Sea, Gavin is dashing out towards Matt with his arms flailing widely; his grin is blinding as he leaps up without thinking–
“Gavin!”
Matt’s cry is too late. A familiar body is already ramming against the front of his own, and Matt can barely wrap his arms around Gavin before they go down together. His knees collide with the ground loudly, Gavin’s weight landing all by Matt’s side with a soft ‘oof!’ from both of them. They’re pressed up close, and Gavin’s green eyes look wide but jovial as it peers up at Matt.
“Matt! Matt, love, you did it, and you looked like an absolute madman when you crossed the line!” His voice is wobbly, just as fucked up as Matt’s own. He’s coming down from his own adrenaline rush.
“I finally win, and that’s your first words to me?!”
“I’m just being honest, and it looked cool, at least!” Gavin giggles with his nose poking at Matt’s cheek. And as if it was naturally meant to be there, lithe arms wrap around Matt’s neck, brings them even closer. It doesn’t matter that Matt’s racesuit is ruined with the sweat of the race and the dirt from the ground. Matt just returns the act, holds Gavin tightly.
“You won, Matt,” Gavin whispers so happily with his grin blinding like the sun. There’s nothing but pure happiness injected into that, and Matt can feel its infectious nature with his own shaky smile. He can barely keep it together with Gavin in his arms. “You won the championship.”
Something in Gavin’s words rattles him for good. Matt finally lets the tears fall, a single one at first and then a monsoon. He darts in to close the remaining gap between them, and he sinks into another sort of victory at the feel of soft lips pressing against his; dies the greatest death when Gavjn pushes back, salt of tears and sweetness of affection playing between them, and Matt doesn’t know how he’s held back for so long.
He’s an idiot for playing this off, as if it hadn’t been in the making over months and state lines. As if all that time with Gavin, feeling an odd type of way, wasn’t going to end up like this – with so much fucking adoration in his heart. He’s an absolute fool, but one who’s caught Gavin’s eye.
His hand is cradling Gavin’s head while the other keeps him locked in a tight hug, by the time Matt pulls away. Cheeks are red for a different reason, but no less better – even the annoying flashes from photographers, the crowd of reports trying to zone in, and the cheers and eyes of every pit crew on them can’t ruin this mood. They’re far too focused on each other.
“I fought for you, I fought so fuckin’ hard,” Matt laughs breathlessly. “Tom better keep his dirty paws to himself now, I swear.”
It’s a weird thing to mention now, but Matt doesn’t care. Not when Gavin’s eyes look at him with so much amused affection, the same kind that must be playing in Matt’s own, before he’s brought in for another kiss – and yeah, he can say that he really did win.
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30 day writing challenge
First Impression: Calvin
It all started in October, 5th grade was the best year. He walked in behind the teacher, Ms.Pottz. She smiled at us all raising her finger up to signal us to calm down.
"Thank you kids~" her voice sang as she stepped aside gesturing to the black haired boy next to her. "This is Matthias Samson, he moved here all the way from the East coast! He'll be joining our class. Everyone say hello!"
The class erupted in happy greetings, he looked at the floor seemingly shy and timid.
"H-hello..." He managed to get out.
"I set up a nice desk next to Calvin with the purple jacket in the back of the room, why don't you go have a seat?" He nods walking towards me in the back of the room.
He sits putting his bag next to his desk. I smile at him and he smiles back as the teacher starts class, I think I have a new friend.
Calvin (c) me
Matthias (c) @telltalesheepers
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mattvines via his Instagram Story (07/03/2019)
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n or r for the fancic ask meme?
N: Is there a fic you wish someone else would write (or finish) for you?
All of them 😅 Honestly, if I could read the stories I have in my mind without having to write them first, I’d probably give up most of them - a few I’m really precious about how they need to be precisely, so I’m unlikely to release control over them for someone else to write, but the rest is fair game.
There’s several ideas that never make it onto my To Write list for the simple matter that it’s already cluttered and I have stories I’m more invested in finishing first, and by the time those are done I have new shiny ideas that take precedence. Sometimes if I don’t immediately feel like writing the thing, it’s likely to get dropped (usually in my friends’ PMs bc I still want to share lol). When I come back around to the idea later and I’m still excited? That’s when I know it’s a keeper.
Right now… I’d love for someone to write this Mattvin idea for me, or finish my Misfits series.
R: Are there any writers (fanfic or otherwise)you consider an influence?
Several! Off the top of my head, within this fandom I’d name @vagrantblvrd @shadeofazmeinya @sorcererinslytherin @whalehuntingboyfriends @ganglylimbs and my friend Kays (whose account got hacked and I’m waiting for her to get it back or make a new one, so can’t @ her rn). For various reasons-
Shade & Sorc have great RPs and ideas and back and forth both with each other and anons, their prompt fills and headcanons are pure inspiration
Gangly is always fun especially re: smut and there’s no kinkshaming between us it’s always 👌 A+. Whenever I have smut ideas I’m not gonna get around to write, or just got smutty feels, I just drop it on them and enjoy the ensuing hijinks we come up with.
Vagrant has such a unique writing style that I find fascinating and invigorating. Also her approach to self-indulgent rom-com clichés really reminded me to embrace that part of fanfic again
I’m sure most people in this fandom would cite Jos/whalehuntingboyfriends - her stories are elaborate and amazing and breath-taking, and well above novel-length a lot of the time. She set a bar for me for sure, and I had the honor to beta some of her stories, which really improved my own writing game!
And Kays, my crime wife, my eternal muse. She’s my number one fan and enabler and she knows all my secrets and to write list and ideas, and she takes them and makes them even better. A lot of the gift-fics I wrote are for her, and that‘s for a damn good reason. She gets me out of writer’s block, always encourages me to get even better, drops everything to check out a paragraph I hate to help me figure it out, etc. She’s the reason I’m in the ragehappy fandom in the first place, too.
Outside this fandom, people like (on Ao3) tardisistheonlywaytotravel, copperbadge, esama, and scifigrl47 come to mind. They all got something I’d love to emulate, or taught me something important about fandom. Also, flamethrower and blackkat are writing goals (both in style and in the amount of words they put out relative to time).
Fanfic Ask Game
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Is it @mattvines?
IT SURE IS BABY
#I could possibly turn into the most cursed and stupid person on this website one day 😌#if louis ever abandons us i’m doing it <3#will annoy every last one of you out the fandom ISNDNNFNDND#anyways. yeah 😌#anon
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“why does mattvines keep following syco/sony people?” do u all understand that louis is not his only client right? like i’m not a fan of matt and mark but i legit don’t think louis is firing his management again so soon and he’s still not their only client so not all their followers have to do with louis specially with him out of sony! louis can change management 100X and he will never be their only artist and he will never get someone that don’t have connections with the big 3 labels like it’s an insane thought cause a good management need those connections for all their artist come on
I know?
My distaste of Matt Vines isn’t only because of his follows.
For just one example - Seven7 management employees (that Matt is the head of) run the LTHQ account. Have you looked at their pinned tweet?
They don’t answer fan questions.
Just small things they should be on top of that they don’t take care of, and makes them super sloppy.
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La ardillita MattVin estuvo haciendo de las suyas y se me adelantó a un tema que hace mucho quiero grabar. Boeno, a ver… Cuando tenga tiempo de editar el mío o de volver a grabarlo, lo subo. I promise! 🤫 #Art #Acustic #Raw #iPhoneXsMax #Songs #Soltar #Puñal #Ardillitas #alvinylasardillas #MattVin #Dante #Spinetta #Guitar #Vocals #Poems #Musica #Music #MattEsmay #MatiasEsmay (en Resistencia, Chaco) https://www.instagram.com/p/CQF17daAE6L/?utm_medium=tumblr
#art#acustic#raw#iphonexsmax#songs#soltar#puñal#ardillitas#alvinylasardillas#mattvin#dante#spinetta#guitar#vocals#poems#musica#music#mattesmay#matiasesmay
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Repost from @thebroadplace - L E T T E R from Jac – Redefining Success⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
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I would like to spend some time this week (within the gift to me, that is these Letters, as I get to really nut out ideas), in clarifying and sharing what success can look like versus the realities. This is a conversation that is coming up a huge amount for me at the moment with students and meditation teachers we have graduated so it seems like the timing is right! The entire Letter won’t all fit in here so there’s a link to the Journal in our profile where you can see the whole article.⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
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My friend @mattvines and I were discussing last weekend what really goes into what looks like a successful life or business. We both travel an immense amount for work, and from the Instagram view, life and work can look idyllic. We both love what we do, so there’s no complaints from us, but we notice a constant stream of only one view being projected onto our lives. To be clear I do not only sit around drinking tea and meditating! Life is unreal, but it’s also freaking hard work keeping The Broad Place evolving and being all around the world to share what we do.⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
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Continued in the Journal…⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
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#highgradeliving #thebroadplace⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
#integratedmeditation #vedicmeditation
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