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bubblesreplies · 1 year

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The Middle

Max Brinly X Female Reader

Oneshot

APPARENTLY IF YOU’RE READING THIS IN ANY DARK COLORED FORMAT ON TUMBLR (LIKE NIGHT MODE) IT LOOKS FUCKING WEIRD AND IDK HOW TO FIX IT I’M SO SORRY.

A/N: No, I'm not neglecting my other fics to write a random oneshot? Why would you even suggest---fuck it here it is besties. Anyways, this product of procrastination is dedicated and written for my bestie @house-of-kolchek, who loves Max as much as I do.

WARNINGS AND TAGS: NSFW 18+ ONLY, this is unedited and might be awful, Reader is Jacob's cousin, manipulative!Emma but like in a good way, BFF!Emma, Emma/Jacob, Abi/Nick, making Emma cooler than she is, sweetheart!Max, unrequited love (assumably), forced proximity, sex jokes, unsafe seating situations while driving DO NOT DO THIS PLEASE, lap-sitting, erections, staring down your shirt, teasing, love confessions, very very cheesy and idc anymore

Word Count: 8k

Main Masterlist

“EMMA, that is the stupidest idea in seriously the entire world.”

You meant it, too; you already thought that this little impromptu camping trip was an awful idea; the last time that the group of you were out in the woods, it ended with werewolves, so, could anybody really be blamed for not wanting to tempt fate? And now hearing Emma’s latest plan, you couldn’t help but say fuck this whole entire trip and its mom, too.

“Oh—come on!” Emma insisted with a pout across her face, leaning across her oversized suitcase—who in the world needed all of that space for a weekend camping trip? “Babes, you are my wing-woman here—my ultimate girl. Come on, please—Jacob won’t even look at me when we hang out. I really need your help with this!”

You sighed; a year ago, when the ten of you—eight, if you considered the fact that you hadn’t actually met two of the camp counselors until the end of the summer—worked at Hackett’s Quarry and endured that shitshow of a summer, you hadn’t even liked Emma. You didn’t like how she had your cousin, Jacob, mooning all over her like she owned the whole fucking Earth. You didn’t like the way that the nicest girl you’d ever met seemed to think she walked on water, too, and you did not appreciate the fact that she thought she was entitled to tell you all the ways that you were doing your makeup all wrong.

But then, that night happened. The night of the full moon, when your idiot cousin sabotaged the van just to get another night with the woman he’d fallen in love with who couldn’t give a rat’s ass about him. The night where the ten of you had miraculously survived werewolves, and a crazy-ass family trying to kill you all night. That night was what changed everything.

You’d gotten stranded with Emma running through the woods, and somehow landed yourself in a heated battle with Jacob—who had apparently been bitten by one of those things because he was now one of those things. He, obviously, tried to kill the two of you and Emma thought fast, using a piece of silver jewelry to save both of your lives and buy you enough time to get the hell out of there.

And then, you’d been locked in a room with her and Abi, the three of you not knowing if you would survive the night, and something just…changed. You began to see her differently, and from that point on, throughout this entire past year, the three of you had been best friends.

More you and Emma, if you were being honest, because Abi and Nick had just gotten engaged three months ago and most of her free time went to him.

Not that it hurt your feelings. If you somehow managed to bag the man of your dreams, you’d be spending every free moment with him, too.

“Jacob just…needs time,” you informed her with a groan, throwing your tennis shoes across the room as you frantically looked for your favorite pair of leggings. “He’s still hurt, you know? You can’t just tell him you didn’t mean any of it and then expect him to forgive you and jump back into your arms, Emma.”

“Which is why I need you to get me into his cabin this weekend,” Emma pleaded, getting up from her place on your bed and digging through your drawers as she pulled out the very clothes you were looking for. You swore that sometimes, it was literally like she could read your mind. “All we have to do is fake a fight; I will refuse to sleep in the same cabin as you, and then the boys will offer to switch with us. I’ll get a whole night—and a whole, isolated cabin—with Jacob; and you? Well, let’s not pretend that you aren’t benefitting from my little plan.”

You snorted, shimmying out of your jeans and pulling your leggings up over your legs, smiling as Emma nodded towards your ass in approval. If she thought that you looked good, you could rest assured that you damn well did.

“And how will I benefit from getting into a fake fight with you and causing a scene?” You questioned, your head cocked as Emma passed you your shoes and you eagerly slipped them on. The rest of your group would be here at any minute, and you didn’t want to keep them waiting.

“Because if I end up in Jacob’s cabin, you know who ends up in yours? Max.”

You whipped around and shot Emma a glare, shaking your head like you couldn’t believe that she would just mention his name all casually like that. You’d made her swear to never bring up your pathetic, unrequited crush on Max Brinly ever again, since the day she’d first found out that it even existed in the first place.

You first met Max when the sun came up after that hellish night at Hackett’s Quarry. You and Emma had run back to the island to see if Jacob was there and if he was alive, and you ended up running into Max instead. After lots of screaming and confusion, the two of you finally allowed him to explain just how in the fuck he had gotten there and who he was, which is when you learned that your one night of hell had lasted two months for him and his girlfriend.

Emma had found Jacob and ran after him, but you stayed behind with Max, talking and laughing at his jokes, attempting not to swoon at the adorableness that was his laugh. You had hoped, at the beginning of the summer, to find somebody just like him and have a summer romance. Somebody who was cute, who could make you laugh, and seemed to understand you instantly.

It didn’t work out that way, obviously—seeing as the summer had been over and Max Brinly had a girlfriend.

Laura eventually came back for him and you parted ways, assuming that this would be the last time that you would ever see Max Brinly, attributing your budding feelings for him as some sort of trauma response to the night that you had just been through.

Imagine your surprise when, a month after Hackett’s Quarry, the new co-worker that you were assigned to train at the coffee shop was none other than Max Brinly. You assumed right away that he wouldn’t even remember you—why would he?---but you were wrong. He knew exactly and immediately who you were, and the two of you hit it off just as well as you did the first time you had ever spoken to him. It wasn’t long before you were hanging out with him every single day, and he had slowly become your best friend.

You went to movies together, you got dinner, he came to all of the track and field competitions you ran in at your local university, you helped him study hard enough to get into a new graduate school—literally, anything that you could think of, the two of you did it together. You even stayed the night at each other’s apartments on occasion, both of you knowing what the other’s couch felt like pretty intimately.

In fact, the only time the two of you weren’t together was when Laura came to town to visit her boyfriend. Before she dumped him, at least.

It was nearly a month and a half ago now, that you had sat on this very bed with Max as he sobbed, asking you just to hold him and not ask any questions when he told you that he and Laura had broken up.

“Max isn’t into me, so that really doesn’t help your case,” you grumbled, your pissy mood only continuing to sour the more that you thought about it. After Max and Laura, you thought that you might actually stand a chance with him. After all, he spent all of his free time with you, and you knew that nobody in this world knew him as well as you did—and vice versa. But after the night that he’d sobbed with you, fallen asleep in your bed, and told you how he felt like years of his life were wasted with Laura, nothing ever happened.

He just went right on back to being the same old Max, your friend.

“Do you seriously still think that that boy has no feelings for you whatsoever?” Emma shrieked, watching as Jacob’s car pulled up from the window, hurriedly throwing her hair up into a sexily-tossed messy bun. “‘Cause, if you do, you’re so wrong that it isn’t even funny anymore.”

“Em, if he had feelings for me, then why didn’t anything change after he and Laura broke up?!” You interjected, a frown pulling at your lips as you grabbed your tiny duffel bag and hiked it up over your shoulder. “And also, why would he date Laura for so long if he actually, secretly liked me instead? Your logic isn’t logic-ing,” you insisted, and Emma smirked.

“You are so naive that it’s actually kind of cute,” she responded, rolling her eyes as Jacob opted to honk instead of being a gentleman and coming to the door. Emma sauntered over to you, playing with the ends of your hoodie and eyeing it suspiciously. “Look, just—help me with this plan, and you’ll see, okay? And change into that sexy little top I bought you last month for the car ride.”

“Emma!”

“Just trust me!” Emma insisted, pulling the hoodie up and over your head for you and tossing you the lacey black crop top she’d bought you last month. “Put it on—good, yes, I would so bang you—oh, and just in case you find out that Max also wants to bang you, I snuck condoms into your bag.”

“You have got to be kidding me, Emma!” You shrieked, although it was with a large smile on your face as you were, once again, blown away by the antics of your friend.

Emma only laughed as the two of you rushed down to the car, you having to help Emma with one half of her bag since she’d brought such a gigantic one. You’d barely made it to the door before there was a knock on it—apparently Jacob had decided to be a gentleman after all. Or he’d simply gotten impatient, which was the better bet of the two options.

“Keep your pants on cuz, we’re coming,” you hissed out, lowering your end of Emma’s bag to the ground as you ripped open the door to your apartment. Your annoyed glare dropped and your mouth fell open as you saw Max standing there, his cheeks red and running a hand through his freshly-cut red hair. “Max! I, uh, thought you were Jacob?”

Fuck, why did you sound so fucking awkward?! Your conversation with Emma had you paranoid and upset, and if you kept acting this way, Max would definitely notice. The two of you had crossed the awkward barrier a long time ago.

“Ah, nah,” Max answered, his signature smile flashing across his face and warming you up from the inside out. “Jake’s too possessive over that steering wheel to get his ass over to the door honestly.”

“That and he doesn’t want to have to speak to me,” Emma sighed, lugging her bag forward and hitting Max in the chest with it. You suppressed a giggle as he let out an “Oomph!”, but he caught your smile and playfully sneered at you. “Oh, what a gentleman! And damn, Max, I’ve never noticed how strong you are. Have you, Y/n?! Have you ever noticed those biceps?”

“Cut it out, Emma,” you hissed under your breath, grateful that Max had already turned around and was heaving her oversized bag to the trunk of the car. “I know what you’re doing, and it isn’t going to work on me.”

“What am I doing?” Emma asked with faux innocence, batting her eyelashes heavily down at you before she winked. “Just use it as fuel for our fake fire, if you want, babes. Besides—would it really kill you to admit in front of him that he looks good?! Give the boy a win, Y/n!”

“He does not think of me that way—”

“Hey, um, Emma?” Max called out as you were locking your front door behind you, and you turned and ran over to where he was pursing his lips behind the trunk. “Maybe we should’ve brought a bigger car, but, your bag is not going to fit back here.”

Emma turned to look and her lips, too, were pursed.

“Well, where’s everyone sitting?” She asked, peering her head into the car to check out the situation.

“Well, uh, Jacob’s driving—obviously—Abi and Nick are in the row of two seats behind him, and then he wants you to sit back in the last row with me while Y/n takes the passenger seat,” Max explained, using his hands to gesture to each person. Abi turned around to look at you from her place in the car, Nick’s head in her lap as he slept, and she waved. You waved back, grimacing at the large bag that was seated at your feet.

“Hmm, no, that won’t do,” Emma insisted with a wave of her hand, using all of her strength to heave her bag up and over the full trunk of the car and into the last row of seats. “It’s going to have to go here—and oh, I really didn’t sleep well last night, so if I don’t sit in the passenger seat, I’ll get sick.”

Max’s jaw dropped and he scoffed lightly, looking between the two of you as you held in a large groan.

“I don’t really see how that makes any sense?” He questioned.

“So Y/n will have to sit in the back, with you!” Emma finished with a gleeful squeal, hurrying to shut the trunk and turning to make her way to the passenger seat of the car.

“Um—hold on a minute, just where the fuck in the back will I sit?!” You barked out, gesturing incredulously to the monstrosity that was her luggage all over the back seat of the car. “Your bag is taking up the entire row—all but one seat, Em! And it’s way too fucking big to go down at our feet!”

Emma put a daintly little finger to her chin, and you could tell that she was only pretending to think about the predicament.

“Well, it’s only about a forty-five minute drive,” she informed you, a wicked smile pushing its way onto her lips. “It’s not that long, so, just sit on Max’s lap?”

Your eyes widened and you felt sweat beading on the back of your neck, your heart beating at an intensely quick pace just at the mere thought of having to sit on Max. One look at Max’s face showed he heard her suggestion, too, because it was unnaturally blank and pale.

You walked closer to Emma, pulling her into you as you said, “You better be fucking for real with your next suggestion, or we will get in an actual fight, Emma,” you warned her, your voice low enough that Max couldn’t hear it. You noticed that he was already ushering Nick and Abi out of the car, hurrying to his seat in the back, and the three of them were just waiting on you.

“Oh my g—will you just trust me, for once in your life?!” Emma begged dramatically, clinging onto your arm and giving you a little push towards Max. “Thank me later, hoe.”

Oh no, I will not be thanking you later, you sneaky little she-devil, you thought to yourself, climbing over Abi’s seat and landing ungracefully into Max’s lap. He caught you much more elegantly than you fell, luckily, and he helped you right yourself so that your back was facing his chest.

You turned your face towards him despite the fact that it was burning, and you brushed a strand of hair back behind your ear.

“You know, I could always just sit on her bag instead of on you,” you offered, geturing weakly over to the big problem that Emma had handed over to the two of you with a private sneer at her back. “That way I won’t crush your legs into tiny pieces of ash.”

Max actually laughed out loud at that and your heart swelled with a feeling of accomplishment; Max was funny, he had probably always been funny, and anytime that you had gotten him to laugh, you took it as a personal achievement.

“Please sweetheart, as if you could,” Max retorted, winding an arm around your waist as he pulled your back flush against his chest, leaving his arm to rest across your stomach and his fingers splayed across your hipbone. You closed your eyes, holding in a sigh as you prayed that he couldn’t see the way that your face had reddened from this angle. “Besides, this is probably the…safer option of the two.”

You heartily disagreed with that.

Still, you positioned yourself against him, awkwardly playing with your fingers on your lap as you had no idea where to rest your hands. You and Max were close, yes, but you had never physically been close, aside from a few silly moments of teasing tickles, accidentally falling asleep on his shoulder, or him resting his legs on your lap as the two of you watched a movie together. This was entirely new territory, and you had no idea what to do with it, and you knew that if Emma hadn’t forced this to happen, that Max wouldn’t have chosen to even be in this situation with you. Probably.

“Jacob, the drive is forty-five minutes?” You called up to him, wincing as you watched your cousin’s teeth grit in the rearview mirror as he attempted to ignore Emma completely.

“An hour, if traffic’s bad,” Jacob called back and you groaned, your leg shaking furiously in your nervousness. As if Max could sense that you were on edge—fuck, with the way that you were bouncing around he probably could feel it—his other hand landed on your thigh, rubbing calming circles around as he successfully got it to stop shaking.

“Sorry, I don’t know why I’m so anxious today,” you sighed, rubbing a hand down your face and leaning back into Max. You could hear his groan and you winced, assuming you had hurt him, as you instantly tried to reposition yourself to take some of the weight off of him.

After a few minutes of frantic wiggling, Max’s hands harshly gripped onto your waist, his fingernails digging into you as he held you tightly into place and you froze, your eyes wide and breath held.

“Y/n, please—stop.” Max’s voice was incredibly hoarse, coming out in a groan and you winced again, mortified that you had hurt him enough to elicit this sort of response.

“Oh shit, Max! I am so sorry—I was trying not to hurt you and then I did hurt you and—”

“Y/n!” Max interrupted, clearing his throat so that his voice sounded a lot more normal and less husky. “Honey, you’re not hurting me, just—don’t wiggle around right—there.”

Your eyebrows raised in confusion at his words and your brain couldn’t process what the hell he was saying, so you just opted to nod, leaning forward as far as you could and beginning a conversation with Abi as you tried with every ounce of your being to not put much weight on Max. It took every ounce of concentration that you had to not think about the fact that you were touching the love of your life and focus on Abi’s words about wedding planning, but somehow, you did it.

“Hey, uh, Jake?” Max suddenly called out, and you noticed that his voice had gone hoarse again and that his tone was tight and clipped. Higher than normal. You frowned; in your conversation with Abi, you had slipped a little further backwards than you’d realized, back into his lap. “How much longer?”

“Thirty minutes,” Jacob growled, and you noticed Emma looking a little offput herself. “It’s looking closer to an hour total at this point.”

“Alright then, we need to stop,” Max insisted and you stifled a pathetic whine, embarrassed that you were this hard to bear just sitting on his lap. It probably didn’t help that you were still actively avoiding any and all contact with him, practically leaving him here in the backseat to talk to himself as you ignored him, anxious and letting Emma’s words get to your head.

You needed to stop. You and Max were friends. Good friends, and you were being absolutely ridiculous about this whole thing.

Three minutes later, Jacob pulled off at a reststop and you lifted off of Max instantly, watching him scamper out of the car after Abi and Nick and hurrying into the men’s restroom. With everyone out of the car but you and Emma, you climbed over the seats and sat between her seat and the driver’s seat, staring at her with wide eyes.

“So,” you started out, pointedly ignoring the tears in her eyes, knowing she wouldn’t want to talk about it right now. “Your plan to make me sit on Max is not working; I can barely say two words to the guy, and his poor legs are getting crushed by me. He probably can’t think of anything but leg cramps!”

“Oh, please,” Emma scoffed, dabbing at her eyes with a tissued and waving your worries away with a flick of her hand. “Look at him, and look at you; there must be some other reason he needs a break.”

“Oh yeah?” You fought back, crossing your arms over your chest as you frowned at your friend. “Like what, exactly? It’s not working Emma, you’re miserable up here, and I am back there; we should just switch places. You’re smaller than me.”

“I am not,” Emma sighed.

“All I know is one minute, I can’t sit still, and the next minute, he’s grabbing my hips and telling me to stop wiggling around,” you continued on, as if Emma hadn’t even interjected. “What else could it be if not that I was—”

You instantly stopped talking as Emma looked over to you, mouth opened and eyes glinting with excitement.

“You poor naive little thing!” She giggled, pulling your arms so that you were practically sitting on her lap. “Y/n, you aren’t hurting him—you’re turning him on and he doesn’t want you to feel it!”

You felt pinpricks across your face as the entire thing turned white, and you were suddenly feeling a little nauseous.

“What?” You questioned, shaking your head lutching nervously at your hair. “What? I—no, Max isn’t—he wasn’t—”

“Oh, yes, yes he was,” Emma argued, and there was a light in her eyes that replaced whatever sadness she had been feeling before you came up there to talk to her. “Okay, do exactly as I say; when Max comes back out to the car, sit back on him just like you were that first time. Wiggle around a bit again—”

“What? No!”

“Just trust me—wiggle around a little bit again, then ask him if he wants to watch something with you on your phone. When you turn it on, lean back against him so that your back is arched and he gets a good, full view down your—”

“Okay, and this is where I officially stop you, you are crazy,” you intoned, shaking your head and leaning away from your friend. “Max is not into me—in case you managed to forget about that, babes—and besides, I can’t just show him my boobs, Emma! They’re my—boobs. They’re, like, private.”

“Holy fuck, how are you not a virgin,” Emma groaned, shoving you back towards your seat as she pointed eagerly out of the car. “Okay, babes, here he comes—just trust me, okay?! Do it!”

You opened your mouth to argue again, but the words fell from your lips as the car door opened and Max poked his head inside, grinning over at you as his eyes darted back and forth between you and Emma.

“What, uh, what’s going on here?” He asked, and you shot a glare at Emma as she giggled, hiding her face in her shirt and sending an ominous wink your way. You tried as well as you could to tell her to shut up with your eyes, but she ignored you in typical Emma fashion.

“Nothing,” you replied, shaking your head and sending him a smile. “I was just feeling nervous about getting away this weekend and Emma was talking me down. That’s it.”

“Ah,” Max yawned, heading back to his seat and patting his lap for you to join him. You blushed. “Is that why you’re acting so weird? You haven’t spoken to me for the last, like twenty-five minutes.”

“Yeah, sorry, just nervous,” you insisted, climbing back over Abi’s seat and settling yourself on top of Max’s lap. As you looked up after readjusting, your eyes met Emma’s in the rearview mirror and she nodded, looking from you to Max’s…well…yeah.

You cleared your throat, feeling the burn of your phone in your pocket as you stared widely back at her, conveying that she was being way too obvious, here. Regardless, a part of you was…curious, now, and with Laura out of the picture and Max completely single, it’s not like a little testing of the waters was inappropriate anymore. What could it hurt, really? Max was too nice to reject you, so if he wasn’t into it, he just wouldn’t say anything and you’d let it go forever. But, if he really was into it—

Well that was the best-case scenario, wasn’t it?

So, you shifted; nothing crazy and nowhere close to grinding—just a small, flick of the hips that brushed right up against his crotch. Max’s breath hitched and you froze, wondering if you’d truly heard that right, completely distracted from the fact that Abi and Nick were re-entering the car and that Jacob was starting it again, getting ready to head on the road once more.

A hitch of a breath wasn’t enough of a confirmation for you, so you shifted once again, and then again and then again, and this time Max’s hands lifted back up to your hips, grasping for dear life as you settled your ass back down to his crotch, turning your head to watch as his eyes shut tight and he bit his lip.

“Y/n—”

“Do you want to watch part of a movie with me?” You interrupted, watching as Max’s eyes flashed open, a glint of pain underneath them that had you second-guessing what had just happened. Max smiled down at you, though—that brilliant smile that God had blessed him with—and nodded.

You had no idea what you were going to watch, but your fingers worked anyway, hurriedly typing some stupid TikTok compilation that you hoped he wouldn’t get too distracted by. Max laid his chin on your shoulder, his hands that were gripping your waist winding around your front and interlocking as he held you, his face snuggling slightly into your neck.

Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck, your mind reiterated as you slowly breathed out, your heart pounding wildly in your chest as you silently prayed that Max couldn’t hear it, and that he couldn’t feel the way that your skin had suddenly heated up and become sweaty. It wasn’t even that cuddling with Max was anything new—as a person, he was a fucking lapdog—but it was the fact that you had never sat on his fucking lap before while cuddling. Never had intentions to turn him on, never gave him this much of a glance down your lowcut shirt—

Y/n, don’t be a pussy, your inner Emma chastised and you shut your eyes tight and sucked in a breath, desperately trying to convince yourself not to go through with this. But damn it—you sort of wanted to and, so far, Max hadn’t shown a single sign that he’d wanted you to sit anywhere else.

It was halfway through the video that you forgot the rest of the people in the car and arched backward without a minute to second guess yourself, pretending to stretch your arms above your head as you knew you were, successfully, letting Max have a perfect show of your black lacy bra underneath your shirt, and under that, the perfectly rounded mounds of breasts that it pushed up.

You heard a sharp inhale and dared a look at his face; he was as white as a ghost, and even his perfectly placed freckles had gone impossibly paler—and yet his eyes, those gorgeously sea-colored orbs, were still staring down your shirt, transfixed, as he studied your figure.

“Alright, everybody out!” Jacob suddenly called out, and the two of you jumped, Max’s eyes meeting yours as he was brought back to reality. His eyes, no longer clouded over with lust, widened and a blush spread unevenly across his face as he realized that he’d been caught watching you. “We’re here!”

“Y/n,” Max breathed out, whipping his arms away from you and running nervous hands through his newly cut hair. “Shit, Y/n, I’m so sorry, I—I wasn’t—I mean I was but…” You smiled as he stuttered along, a giggle framing your mouth and escaping out of your lip, causing Max’s gaze to whip back onto you. You couldn’t help it; he was always so damn cute when he was flustered.

“Does it make it any less creepy if I’m aware that staring down your shirt is creepy?” Max asked, equal parts timid and teasing. You laughed aloud at that, the two of you lingering in the backseat of the car while the rest of the party headed out.

“It’s fine, Max,” you insisted with a shrug and a wink, conveying in every way possible that you weren’t completely innocent here either. “No one wears a bra like this for it not to be seen, sweetheart.”

The words coming out of your mouth shocked even you, and Max’s entire jaw fell open as he stared at you in complete and utter disbelief.

“Whoa, Y/n,” he reared away from you, just to get a better look at your face, testing to see if you were saying what he thought that you were saying. His hands found their way to your waist again and he touched you softly, his thumbs running up and down the curves of your hipbones as he stared in wonder down at you. “Are you saying that you wanted me to—”

“Are you two gonna get out of the car, or do you plan on freezing your little asses off all night?!” Jacob called out as he forced open the trunk of the car, staring in disbelief at the two of you still sitting there. You both jumped, eyes turning to Jacob with guilty blushes, and you didn’t waste another second climbing off of Max and over the seats, pushing your way past Jacob and onto the dirt-clodded driveway.

Taking your bag from your cousin and asking a hurried, “Where’s our cabin again?” You received directions and hurried off in the direction of the cabin that you and Emma were supposed to share, attempting to outrun Max so that he couldn’t question you any further.

What the hell had you been thinking?! You hadn’t, obviously, and you’d let Emma’s skewed opinion get to you. Now, you had to come up with a solution for some serious damage control before Max got to you with his, What’s gotten into you today? And his, Look, I know you must have been kidding, or his I’m sorry Y/n, I’m just not attracted to you that way—

“Fuck,” you muttered to yourself, throwing open the door to the cabin and chucking your suitcase onto the empty bed. Emma was standing on the other side of the room, facing the bathrooms, but she jumped and turned around when she heard the slam of the front door. “Fuck this whole plan, Emma, and fuck my stupid self too. I can’t believe that I actually let myself believe that Max was really into me and I—holy shit, are you crying?!?”

Emma’s pretty hazel eyes were red-rimmed, but the telltale giveaway that she’d been sobbing was the tear tracks of black mascara spreading down her cheeks and clumping up near her pointy chin.

Once her mind had registered your question, she began sobbing once again, her hands coming up to cover her eyes and you ran to her, throwing your arms around her neck and feeling her own arms go around your waist as she sobbed into your neck heartily.

“Honey, what happened?” You asked, but your voice was muffled by your much taller friend’s collarbone. You pulled away from her and sat her down on her bed, sitting down next to her and taking her hand in yours. “Emma, what did my idiot cousin say to you? You know that big dummy acts completely on emotions, so whatever he said, I’m sure it was just in the heat of the—”

“He meant it,” Emma interrupted you, pulling her hand out of yours and using it to wipe her eyes. “But I don’t even want to talk about it right now, so—tell me what happened with Max.” You opened your mouth to protest but she shot you her “Emma” look—the look that told you that arguing would quite literally be pointless. So, you sighed, letting yourself fall backward onto the bed and groaning as your head hit the awfully lumpy mattress she’d been provided tonight.

“I don’t know what happened, Emma,” you admitted with a whine, feeling her lay down beside you and cuddle her head into yours comfortingly. “It was like I had this sudden, insane boost of confidence and I was like…grinding on him and giving him a full show of my boobs—”

“You do have great boobs—”

“And then when he noticed that I caught him staring at my breasts, I kindofsortofmaybe insinuated that I wanted him to look down my shirt and then he was about to ask me if I really meant that I wanted him to see me naked and then Jacob interrupted us and I freaked out and ran away.”

Emma just stared back at you, blinking occasionally, as if she were really confused.

“Why?” She finally asked, staring down at you in confusion. You blinked back at her, shaking your head bewilderedly.

“Wait, why what?”

“Why did you run away, you fucking dumbass!” Emma insulted, but it was loving and the two of you laughed as she pushed you off the bed and you squealed. “Seriously, Y/n, what the fuck? You ran away? After doing all of that you just ran?”

“I was scared!” You defend your actions with a hiss, pulling yourself up off of the floor and planting down next to her again. “Fuck, Emma, Max is my best friend. I cannot risk freaking him out and losing him, okay? I just…can’t, okay, he means…he means everything to me, Emma, he’s the most important person in the whole world. He’s my best friend.”

“Ouch,” Emma responded, but there was a fond smile on her face and a happy gleam in her eyes as she gazed down at you. “Babes, you know that you’re the most important thing in the world to him too, right? Even if he didn’t feel the same way about you, he wouldn’t let this ruin your friendship. You know that, right?”

You shrugged and looked away from her, playing with your hands as you avoided the question. Did you know that? No, not really. Yeah, the two of you were really close, and yeah, he spent most of his free time with you, but that didn’t mean that this wasn’t something that would freak him out enough to ghost you.

“Shit, if I was going to do something as fucking ridiculous as this, I should have just bit the and told him how I felt,” you finally responded with a sigh, pushing yourself off of the bed and shuffling your feet over the cold, hardwood floor. “But you know, maybe this way, there’s some way that I can play it off?”

“Okay babes, I’m just going to say this once and I’m going to say it outright,” Emma cut you off, standing in front of you and forcing your chin up to look your much taller friend in the eyes. “I know why they broke up, Y/n. The real reason, and if you just fucking ask me I will tell you right here, right now.”

The offer was, obviously, tempting; and two or three years ago you’d probably be a lesser person and taken that offer. As it was, though, you valued Max and his privacy, and if he’d wanted you to know, he would have told you himself.

“No, I don’t want to know,” you insisted, pursing your lips and pulling away from Emma. “It isn’t any of my business, and Max made that abundantly clear by not telling me inthe first place.”

“Of fucking course,” Emma groaned with a shake of her head, rolling her eyes at you and then fixing you with a glare. “The two of you are both so stupid.”

“Gee, thanks Em.” Your words fell flat as you shot her your own sharp look and she gulped, having the common decency to at least look like she felt bad for saying what she did. “Besides, why do you even know the reason Laura dumped him?”

“Laura didn’t dump Max—Max dumped Laura,” Emma clarified and your heart dropped into your stomach. The piece of news, realistically, probably should have made you feel better, but it didn’t. It only made you feel worse, like your heart had been stomped on and used up. Because—if that was true—if Max had dumped Laura—then why had he been so upset that night when he came over to your house? And why the fuck had he lied to you about it?

“What?” You asked, your voice tiny and fragile, and Emma looked back at you, confused.

“Max broke up with Laura,” Emma repeated, and was somehow completely missing the broken, wounded look that was written all over your face. “He dumped her, because he wasn’t in love with her, Y/n, he realized that he was—”

“Emma.”

Jacob’s voice pierced through the air, and the two of you jumped towards the sound, to where your cousin was currently glaring daggers towards your best friend. Emma immediately shut up, shooting you a guilty look as she moved farther away from you and towards Jacob.

“Y/n, can you please give us a moment?” Jacob asked, his throat froggy and having to clear it as he continued staring at Emma. When you saw the raw, heated look pass between them you excused yourself quickly, knowing that whatever feud they were having was about to be made up in tenfold. You forgot to bring your suitcase with you—not even thinking that you’d effectively be kicked out of your cabin for the night—as you ran outside, outside to the nothingness that awaited you.

No, seriously.

There was not a soul out here, Abi and Nick notably missing and Max even nowhere to be seen—not that you even wanted to see him right now anyways. Your heart was barely beating in your chest at the revelation that he’d lied to you—you, supposedly his closest friend—about something that was so huge. Then again, maybe he had no idea how huge it was to you. He didn’t at all, actually, because he had no idea that you were so annoyingly and stupidly in love with him.

“Fuck this day, and fuck everyone else,” you groaned to yourself as you plopped down on a metal bench under a canopy, covering your eyes with your hands as you whined.

“That an invitation?”

Max’s voice sent your blood running cold and you jumped, shocked, turning yourself towards him as he stood slightly behind you, watching you warily. His face was red, but he was smiling at you, and he made his way over and sat at the bench opposite you slowly.

The two of you stared at each other for a while—one of you, optimistically nervous, and the other of you having had your heart shattered into a million little pieces just ten minutes ago. Neither of you said anything, unsure of what exactly you should say, for a long time until finally, Max broke the silence.

“Y/n,” Max spoke, clearing his throat from the nervousness that threatened to choke and overtake him. “About what you said in the car—”

“You lied to me.”

You hadn’t intended for it to come out like that, but there it was, and there was no taking it back now.

Max reared back, astonishment registering across his perfect features.

“I—what?” He shook his head back and forth, as if he couldn’t quite comprehend what you were saying. “I lied about—about the car?”

“No Max, not about the fucking car!” You swore, rising from your seat in your anger. Max followed quickly, a gentle hand on your elbow that you quickly ripped out of his grasp. “You lied to me about—about Laura! You told me that she—that she broke up with you, Max! You were heartbroken, you were crying, you lied!”

You thought that there were tears streaming down your face but you couldn’t really tell at the moment. All you could feel was the adrenaline that was being fueled by your anger, and all you could see was the shock that hadn’t left Max’s face since you’d first spoken.

“Who told you that?” Max questioned, and the fact that he wasn’t denying it made you even more upset and you huffed, turning around on one heel and heading towards—fuck, you had absolutely nowhere to go.

“Does it matter?” You answered, turning back around and accepting the fact that the only way you were going to get to be alone was if Max went back to his cabin and left you here and, knowing him, that wasn’t likely to happen. “You lied, Max. And I’m pissed about it. That’s the only thing that you should care about.”

You still hadn’t turned around to face him, so he made his way in front of you instead, placing tentative hands on both of your arms and levelling his face with yours.

“Sweetheart, please look at me.” Fuck; you were weak anytime that Max called you sweetheart and you knew that he knew it, too. Hating yourself just a little bit more for it, you looked up at him, unaware of how your big, sad eyes caused every cell in his body to melt.

“Why did you lie to me?” The question slipped through your lips without your consent and Max sighed, releasing your arms and pressing a hand into your hip so that you couldn’t get away again.

“I didn’t want to hurt you,” Max answered simply and you reared back, out of his touch, away from his hold, as you scoffed in response.

“You didn’t want to hurt me?” You shrieked, pulling farther away from him and pushing your hands out in front of you to stop him when he tried to reach out for you again. “What the fuck—how the fuck would that have hurt me, Max?”

Max winced, running a nervous hand through his hair, and inspected his surroundings, as if he wished somebody else would come out any minute now.

“Y/n, you are my best friend,” Max pleaded, and you could see the desperation in his eyes but you had no idea why he was so upset. “You know me better than anybody else in this entire world, honey, please—can you give me the benefit of the doubt on this one? Can you let me tell you when I’m ready?”

“No, Max, obviously I cannot do that because obviously it has something to do with me!” You retorted sharply, angry tears burning hot at the corners of your eyes, hotter than normal, devastated tears. “Like—what is going on, Max? I hae this feeling that everybody’s in on this secret, everybody but me—and I should know it, I should know what’s going on with you—”

“Y/n, sweetheart!” Max interrupted again, and this time, he successfully gathered your hands into his. “Look, I’m sorry, okay? I’m sorry that I lied—really I am, but—why is it so important to you?” You glared back at him, pulling your hands out of his grasp and beginning to walk away from him. “Why is it such a big deal that I didn’t tell you the whole truth?”

“Because I’m in love with you, you idiot!” You screamed back at him, your body turning back around on its own accord as the screech left your mouth. You both heard the words echo against a canyon somewhere, and you blanched, unaware of what you’d actually said and the weight of them until they hit you in the chest on the reverb.

Max’s mouth had dropped open and he stepped away from you in shock, his hands coming up to frame his cheeks, never making actual physical contact with his face. He stared back at you, his eyes wide and full of wonder, as if he were seeing you for the first time, all over again.

“You’re—” Max gulped, but he took a step closer to you, a smile adorning his freckled cheeks. “You’re in love with me? Really?”

Your heart sunk again when he spoke and you shook your head, backing away from him and pressing two fingers to the bridge of your nose as you suddenly felt an oncoming migraine.

“I’m sorry Max,” you apologized, feeling a bout of nausea spring up in your stomach as you realized that you’d just past the point of no return. “Shit, I’m so sorry, I should have never even said anything—I should have let it go—”

“I broke up with Laura because I’m in love with you.”

The words came out quickly, like Max was afraid that if he hadn’t said them as quickly as he did that he wouldn’t say them at all. You reaction was surprisingly slow compared to everything else you’d done in haste tonight, and you dropped your hands from your face and gazed up at the man in front of you, who was staring back at you with awe.

“W—what?”

“I love you,” Max repeated, taking another step towards you with his light, airy chuckle that you loved so damn much. “And I didn’t tell you that night I broke up with Laura because I thought that you’d think I was lying, or that you were a rebound, and you’re not, Y/n. You’re absolutely not—I’ve loved you for a long enough time that I’m a total asshole for letting it go on with Laura for as long as I did.”

“Then why—why did you—”

“I lied because I didn’t want you to think that any of this was your fault,” Max continued, and he was so close now that his arms were winding around your waist and his forehead was pressed to yours. “I just—I knew, the second I saw you again in that coffee shop, that it was fate. And I lied to myself, hoping that my relationship would just fizzle out on its own and that I wouldn’t have to hurt anyone but—fuck, I would break Laura’s heart a thousand times over if it meant that I might get to be with you in the end,” Max finished, and you were stunned silent, unaware of how to speak anymore.

“Do I—” Max took a sharp inhale of breath and a step back to assess your face. “Do I get you in the end?”

You smiled back at him before pressing your lips so tightly to his, wrapping your body so hard around his own, that the two of you could barely breathe in anything that wasn’t lingering on each other’s bodies.

“You had me,” you answered in between breathless kisses, in between promises, in between hopeful smiles. “You had me at the beginning.”

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delopsia · 2 years

Text

Eyes On Me | Max Brinly X Reader

Word Count: 11,00 Warnings: Swearing, a bit of angst, unprotected sex, oral (reader receiving), mild size kink, overuse of "honey" (sorry), occasional blood that involves a bear trap and your foot (not sorry), not beta read. Cross Posted Here On AO3

There's something so menacing about Hackett's Quarry. You can't quite put your finger on what, but something haunts the forests once the sun has fallen, lurking, watching. A stark contrast to the charming, rustic nature of the camp during the day. If parents had to spend one night before sending their children for the summer, the camp would be closed and defunct within a year.

It's in the unnervingly chilly breeze that finds you on the warmest of nights, in the way the wind whispers your name in your ear and tries to draw you further into the unknown.

"Y/N."

A horrified yelp leaves your lips, your body recoiling from the noise so fast that you stumble.

"Hey, hey!" Hands grasp your shoulders — firm, grounding you. "It's just me. You're okay."

You're too shocked to speak, staring blankly at the man before you. Max. It was just Max. Not something lurking in the woods. Frowning, Max draws you in, and you're powerless to do anything but fall into his embrace. He's nothing but warm, warding off the breeze nipping at your exposed skin like he's your knight in shining armor.

"I've got you," he murmurs, directly into your ear. "Why're you so freaked out? Did something happen?"

"No," you breathe, "this place is just spooky at night."

Max chuckles— it's the sweetest sound you've ever heard. "Is this why you always wait for me, hm?" That's partially the reason, but it's not like you're going to outright admit it. Unfortunately, your silence must speak louder than words, because Max laughs again, hugging you a little tighter. "Well, you're safe with me, honey."

Heat blossoms in your chest, wrapping around your heart with an unfamiliar gentleness that makes it ache. You can't see his face, but you know he's grinning. Your thoughts are proven true when he draws away, big hands lingering on your waist as he gazes into your eyes, searching for any hint of fear or worry.

"Let's just get this over with," you'd much rather stay here and hug Max for the rest of the morning, but duty calls. You've been tasked with getting all of the take-home goodies put together for the campers. Leave it to Mr. H to miraculously forget to mention it until the night before the campers leave.

The walk to the main building isn't very long, but the poorly lit trail makes it feel like you have to walk for hours. Next to you, Max doesn't even appear bothered, eyes trained on the path ahead. Whether it's dumb confidence or he's just not awake enough to care about what lurks in the dark, you're not sure.

"You'd think Mr. Dont-Call-Me-Hackett would at least leave the light on for us," he gripes, pointing up to the lamppost. Strange, it had been on last night when you walked the kids back to the cabins.

It's not just dark on the path, you learn. The entire camp is dark, even the main building doesn't have a singular light coming from it. Hackett's Quarry looks absolutely deserted. If you weren't an employee, you would almost think the place was abandoned.

"You don't find this spooky at all?" You whisper, afraid to raise your voice any higher.

Max's shoulder is bumping into yours, accidental but comforting, in a way. "No, this place is creepy as shit."

Powered by five and a half hours of sleep and fear itself, you forge ahead. Every step towards the building feels heavier. If it weren't for Max ambling along next to you, you would have turned back and not returned until the sun was up. Even now, as your foot meets the first step, you're considering it.

The door to the cafeteria is unlocked, much to your dismay. The idea of going back to bed really sounds good right now. Opening the door reveals...nothing but more darkness. You can't see a damn thing.

"You wouldn't happen to know where the light switch is, would you?" Max sighs, with a frown. You've got nothing. Feeling up the wall until you find a switch it is.

Max goes left and you go right, hands running up and down the wall in search of the magic switch that will illuminate the cafeteria. You think you find it, once, but it ends up being the switch that controls the fans instead.

"Found it!" By the time you've processed Max's announcement, blinding white light is burning straight into your retinas.

At least Mr. H was decent enough to leave the supplies out on a table. Candy, ink stamps, bubblegum, animal-shaped erasers, and pencils. All things the kids couldn't be trusted with over the course of the past two months. Exciting.

"That poor bus driver," Max is already settling down, popping a lemon-flavored candy into his mouth.

"This is what we got up so early for?" You're not sure what you were expecting, but it wasn't...this.

Max hums, "Mr. H made it sound a lot more important than bags of candy."

Understatement of the century.

As much as you want to sit down while you work, the boxes are tall, and you cant see what's inside of them unless you stand. Your hand continuously bumps into Max's as you reach for supplies, and you swear you're not doing it on purpose. It doesn't help that Max laughs every time, doesn't make it any easier when he playfully nudges you with the sweetest grin on his face.

"Hold on," rather unceremoniously, Max takes it upon himself to dump the boxes out on the table, rearranging them into easily reachable piles.

Why hadn't you thought of that?

"Better?"

"Better."

An unforeseen side effect of sitting down — it's much easier to get tired. It doesn't help that the cafeteria is so chilly and that Max is practically a furnace next to you. Your movements are gradually slowing, a shadow of the pace you used to be working at. How is one supposed to focus on goodie bags when it's this early?

"Did you sleep at all last night?" Max's voice is enough to temporarily shatter the sleepy silence you've been wallowing in.

"Not much," you say through a yawn, "Emma snores."

"I don't know how you put up with it," he plucks the finished bag from your hands, tying it shut in a neat little bow.

You're yawning again, just the thought of it is triggering them. "She's not that bad." Lie. She is that bad.

"Are you kidding?" Max scoffs. "Emma could guide ships through the fog."

Nobody believed you when you said Emma snored, until the night of the slumber party in the lodge. The memory of a half-awake Jacob carrying her into an empty room and shutting the door is something that you will never forget.

Max's shoulder bumps against yours as he works. Vaguely, you wonder if he would be a good cuddle buddy or not. If his hugs are anything to go by, he definitely is.

The back of his hand settles against your forehead, testing your temperature. "Are you sure you're okay? You look a little..." you're not sure what to think of the look he gives you, "pale."

You can't help but frown when his hand draws away from you, leaving your skin even colder than it was before he touched you. "Just tired, is all." Working on their own, your hands reach for another bag and a handful of candy.

"You can go back to bed if you're that sleepy," he offers, tossing another complete bag into the box, "we only have a few left."

The offer is tempting, but the thought of leaving him to finish this by himself makes you feel guilty. It's not like you'd get much sleep with your sleep paralysis demon Emma above you. With another yawn, you fold your arms on the table and rest your head on them, blearily watching Max work. He's quick, even though he doesn't look all that awake himself.

"Can't take your eyes off me, huh?"

"Nope."

The chuckle is expected, but you definitely don't expect him to reach over and wipe a mark from your cheek. The little voice in your head tells you to mess it up a second time just so he'll touch you again. Your eyes close, just for a second, you tell yourself. Yet when they reopen, Max isn't working anymore.

No, he's mirroring your position, head nestled in his arms, blue eyes gazing over at you—like you're the prettiest thing he's ever seen. He smiles when he realizes that you're looking at him, nudging you with his elbow. You feel like a giddy little kid, shyly flirting with their crush in the cafeteria.

"It might be more comfortable if we took a nap on the library bean bags and not the table," he suggests, winking. You know he probably means nothing by it, but you wish he did.

"I don't want to move," you grumble, to which he rolls his eyes.

"Do you want me to carry you?" You can't tell if he's being serious or not. Like always, though, your silence must speak louder than words, because he's already standing up, cracking his neck as he does so. You have to raise your legs a little bit, but he scoops you up with unsurprising ease.

It would have been more surprising had you not caught multiple glimpses of him shirtless, working out with Jacob over the summer.

"Gosh dang you are cold," he whispers, eyes meeting with yours for a fleeting second. His lip quivers, fighting back what appears to be a smile. You have to look away to hide your own sheepish grin.

The problem with the bean bags is that despite their comically large size, they're always moving around. Kaitlyn and Abigail are always thwarting attempts to smuggle the bags into other rooms, but the kids are sneaky.

"They really couldn't leave two?" Max groans at the sight of the singular beanbag. At least the campers were decent enough to leave you the largest one out of the five. Max isn't that big of a guy, both of you could fit there just fine.

"We could share?" It shoots directly from your mouth, your sleep-clouded mind unable to register what you're saying until you've already said it. He hums like he's thinking about it, and it's too late to take back your words.

A painstaking moment crawls by. Then, you realize he's moving again. One, two, three, four strides until he reaches the beanbag, and then he's settling down into it with you cradled in his lap. Your head finds home against his chest, the pitter-patter of his heartbeat loud in your ear.

"This okay?" He asks; his head is so close to yours that you can smell the peppermint of his toothpaste lingering on his breath.

"Yeah," it's more than okay.

Your words must serve as encouragement because his arms secure themselves around you, his head coming down to rest against yours. He's so warm — the frigid air rippling through the lodge feels like just a memory now. You tilt your head up, bleary eyes landing on his freckled face.

He's looking back at you. "Hi."

"Hi."

He smiles at that; his thumb begins to rub back and forth across your spine. You're not sure if he's even aware that he's doing it. His head draws forward to lean against your own, the tip of his nose brushing against yours.

This. The simplicity of it all, being cradled in his lap whilst his pretty blue eyes gaze into yours. The scent of his woodsy body wash and minty toothpaste intertwining in such a way that it makes your head spin. You could get lost in this forever.

"You have such pretty eyes," he says it so quietly that you almost don't hear it.

But you do, and God, your cheeks are so hot they could start a forest fire. You're too shy to speak. Words? Don't know her. All you can do is duck your head down and hide your face in his chest.

He doesn't say anything more, but you can feel his eyes lingering on your frame. It's strangely comforting — like nothing can harm you as long as he's around to protect you. Listening to his heartbeat is like listening to a lullaby. Every blink is becoming a challenge. Another yawn wracks through your body, and then you're gone.

"Rise and shine, love bugs!"

You're yelping, all but jumping out of Max's arms and quite nearly cracking your head on the wooden bookshelf. Laura stands before you, smiling, but the expression worn in her eyes makes you want to shrink into nothingness. Hot breath fans out against your neck, and suddenly you're very aware of the fact that you're still sitting in Max's lap.

"Laura, wait, this isn't," Max pleads, "this isn't what you think it is."

That statement shouldn't sting as much as it does. Technically, you and Max are just friends — all you've done this summer is flirt and get a little cuddly. Yet, you can't help but feel like a home wrecker that just got caught with the husband.

Your feet hit the ground with a small thud, carrying your half-awake body past Laura and out of the library in a wordless hurry. You don't know why you're leaving or where you're going, but you'll take anywhere but here.

The sun is up now, painting the sky in rich hues of red and orange, and you can hear the kids chattering outside. Nick is already whirring away in the kitchen, flipping pancakes in a comically large skillet that you've never noticed before.

"Goodmorning!" He smiles, waving with his spatula. If he notices that you're here much earlier than you should be, he doesn't mention it. "Pancakes are ready if you want to grab one."

He's made three types today — banana, blueberry, and plain. Chocolate chip pancakes used to be the main attraction until deliveries suddenly stopped two weeks ago. You make your choice and stand outside on the balcony to eat, as far away from the library as you can possibly get. The kids are already beginning to funnel into the cafeteria, but you never see Max and Laura come out.

Whatever, it's hard to think about Max when you've got Nick's pancakes in front of you. Biting into them is like biting into a big, fluffy cloud. You'd volunteer to work at Hacketts Quarry next summer if it meant Nick was head chef again.

If only you'd caught feelings for him and not Max, the guy who probably has feelings for Laura.

The buses show up in the blink of an eye.

One minute you and Ryan are helping the kids shove their belongings into their suitcases; the next, you're herding them down the beaten path to the lodge for the final time. Max is among the counselors that are helping you, and for every step he makes towards you, you take two back.

"Kids, Counselors Max, and Y/N made Goodbye Goodie Bags!" Mr. H's voice echoes throughout the camp as he holds up the completed box of goodies. Max looks at you; you avoid his eye.

The kids are absolutely thrilled. One thank-you hug becomes two, then three, and the next thing you know, you're swarmed. You don't know where one kid ends, and another begins, and all you can see are their smiling faces and brightly colored camp shirts.

An arm sneaks over your shoulders, much bigger than the children's — woodsy body wash kisses your nose. Somehow, Max has gotten wrapped up in this little group hug too, and he's mostly hugging you.

"Hackett's Quarry forever!" You can distantly hear Emma cheering, joining in on the hug more enthusiastically than all of the children combined. It's hard to focus on her when Max pulls you closer, drawing you in until you're safely tucked under his arm and snuggled up to his side. You melt into it like butter in the hot sun, powerless to fight his affections.

The kids are all cheering and chanting with their counselors, an incredible noise that has your ears ringing and yet the world is impossibly quiet. Nothing compares to the sweet laughter that falls from Max's plush lips; you can't hear anything except him.

"Hackett's Quarry forever!"

And then they're gone. Tumbling towards the buses with their bags stuffed to the brim with goodies, crafts, and camp gear. A few bags had to be duct taped shut, other kids are improvising with plastic bags and anything else they could concoct. One boy is wearing three shirts on top of each other because they wouldn't fit.

You're still cheering, even as the buses leave, waving goodbye until the final bus has crawled out of sight.

Only then do you realize that a toned arm has fallen from your shoulders and instead curled around your waist. Only now are you aware of how close Max is holding you and the look Laura is giving you from the corner of your eye.

As much as you don't want to, you step away. The fiery look in Laura's eye and the hot sun combined cannot even begin to melt the iciness that's settling into your now empty side.

"Y/N?" It's hard to ignore Max's voice. The sound alone has your gears slowing.

Jacob, your lord, and savior, comes bumbling over to you, effectively ending any of Max's advances. "He isn't bothering you, is he?" His tone makes him sound like a protective older brother.

You shake your head, frowning. "No, I'm just a little upset, is all."

When he cocks his head to the side, you explain the morning's events. There's an unintentional emphasis on how you woke up, on the looks Laura has been giving you since the end of July, and the singular comment that set you off. You feel lighter, being able to talk about it with someone.

"So he's made you feel like a side piece," he observes, and suddenly the pieces click into place. A reason for why you feel this way.

"That's exactly it."

Jacob hums in thought, rubbing his chin. An idea must strike him because his face lights up so brightly that you swear you see a lightbulb appear above his head. "I have an idea."

"Oh boy."

You don't even have a chance to ask what he could possibly be up to. He's already bounding off towards Kaitlyn with a wicked grin sprawled across his face.

Whatever he's up to, it can't be too much, considering you leave for home in an hour. Your heart pangs in your chest — this is probably the last time you'll ever see Max. You begin the long haul to the cabins to fetch your bag with your feet filled with lead. So much for a summer fling.

The van is on fire.

You leave for twenty damn minutes and return to heavy smoke and the van ablaze. Mr. H raises his voice with a tone you've never heard before. He's walking in your direction, wrapped in such a rage that he's shaking. You're scrambling to get out of his way, but his shoulder still slams into yours. Your ass hits the ground with a thump.

In the corner of your eye, you can see your bag roll away after Mr. H's foot connects with it.

Max is there. Kneeling by your side, hand curling around your cheek so gently that you can barely even feel him do it. "Are you okay?" You hate how concerned he sounds. You hate hearing such an endearing tone come from someone that doesn't share your feelings. Your eyes are watering, but not a single tear is related to your fall.

"I'm okay," blinking the tears back.

There's a calloused thumb swiping under your eye, catching a singular tear. If he doesn't quit looking at you like you're the most precious thing he's ever seen — if he doesn't stop touching you like you're made of glass, your tears will turn into a waterfall.

"You don't look okay," he whispers.

Getting up is the only way to stop the waterworks from turning on full blast. Max makes room for you, hands hovering around you as if you may fall again. Jacob hands over your bag once you're on your feet.

Mr. H leaves. Stranding your rag-tag crew at Hackett's Quarry for one more night.

"P.A.R.T... Why the fuck not?" You tune into Dylan saying, a mischievous tone in his voice. "Alright, it seems the stars have aligned for us. No?" There's no getting out of a party, and you're really not surprised that it's already being suggested as soon as Mr. H has left. What really surprises you is when Jacob decides that you and Max should find supplies. It's not like you can walk off and avoid Max now. Not without ditching him with all of the work. At least Jacob reunites you with your phone after delivering that order. "So a lighter, a bucket, and blankets," Max recites, raising a finger for every item he lists. "Where the hell are we going to find a bucket?" "That's what you're worried about?" This is a camp; there have to be buckets somewhere. "How do you plan to find blankets that don't belong on a bed?" Max is quiet, eyebrows furrowing. "I have no idea."

Your phones both kick on at the same time, buzzing to life for the first time in months. It feels strange to look at the screen again; you haven't seen one all summer.

"We have the same phone," he's sidling up next to you, holding his phone next to yours. Identical models. The only difference is the cases.

"What a coincidence," his lock screen flashes on, and your cheeks warm in an instant. It's a picture of Max, shirtless and on a hiking trail. God, does he have—

"Don't mind that," he's shoving his phone into his pocket, looking anywhere but at you. "So about those supplies."

Right. You need to be focusing on supplies. Not Max and his abs.

Supplies.

Not Max.

Supplies.

You're so focused on not focusing on Max that you don't realize your feet are moving. Carrying you right back down the path to the lodges. Max strolls along next to you, his hand bumping against yours with every few strides. Each time, your heart practically leaps up your throat.

"I know I should have asked this before," he says, breaking the silence. Oh god, what is he about to ask? "But where are we going?"

Oh.

Right.

"Art Lodge," you croak, nearly jumping out of your skin when his fingers brush with yours again. "Abi always lights a candle during her classes; there should be a lighter in there."

Max hums, and for a brief second, you meet eyes. He's smiling down at you, the corners of his eyes wrinkling with it. Jokingly, you bump your shoulder into his, just a little tap that has the both of you laughing.

Then you feel it.

Timid fingers slip between your own, slotting together at an agonizingly slow pace. You have to remind yourself to keep walking, have to fight the urge to immediately take his hand and squeeze it as tightly as you can. It's so, so slow like he's afraid you'll bolt if he moves too quickly.

Just like that, he's holding your hand. Curling your fingers around his feels as natural as breathing.

The lodges come into view, standing proud as ever in front of the cliffs. Even as you cross the miniature bridge, Max holds your hand, thumb swiping back and forth against your skin. You hope he never let's go.

"Any luck?"

"No, but I found fruit snacks that expired in 2015."

You have a feeling that the fruit snacks may be the cause of Max's prior hacking fit.

You've found everything but blankets. There were none left behind; not a singular beach towel could be located in the pool storage bins, and the laundry had everything except blankets. Now it's beginning to seem that you're going to be coming up short on your end of the deal.

"You would think that Mr. H would have at least one decent blanket," Max's voice echoes across the dark attic.

"I'm beginning to think that he doesn't believe in them," you deadpan. The boxes up here are just filled with old craft supplies and a few family photobooks. Nothing less, nothing more.

Something heavy falls over where Max is.

"What was that?"

"I fell."

One peek over your shoulder reveals that he has indeed fallen, and he doesn't look like he's about to get up anytime soon. Toeing through the various boxes, you make your way over to him.

"Seems we're sticking it out without blankets tonight," you step over him, careful not to trip yourself.

Max reaches up, his hand circling around your ankle, holding it there. "What's worse is, I have blankets in my car," his other hand comes up to brush away some dust that's gathered on your sock.

"If only your car weren't a mile away," you hold a hand out for him to grab, intending to pull him up. You don't expect him just to reach up and hold it. "Are you getting up, or are you staying on the floor?"

"Oh." He blinks dumbly. Now he gets up, back cracking as he does so.

Climbing back down the ladder is the worst part. Max goes down first, seemingly insistent that he catch you if the rickety old thing miraculously breaks on your way down. It doesn't, but that doesn't stop him from placing his hands on your waist when you're within reach.

"This place needs a serious overhaul," he observes aloud, once you're on solid ground.

To his credit, he's not wrong. The chimney is crumbling on the inside, and more than half of the buildings on the property are beginning to come apart. Lodge 5 lost a whole stair last month, and a few weeks before that, Lodge 2 woke up without a balcony railing after a particularly windy night.

The stairs creak under your feet as you head out of the lodge, testing your anxiety with every step. You're just waiting for the day someone's foot goes through one of these thin old boards.

Two lighters and a bucket await you at the bottom of the stairs, your proud, hard-earned treasures. With one hand, you pick up the bucket; with the other, you tentatively reach for Max's hand.

"What are you doing?" Laura's voice has you jolting, hand slipping back from Max's. You blink, bewildered by her sudden appearance. Words aren't coming to you.

"Heading down to the campfire?" Max sounds just as confused as you feel. Wasn't she paired up with Kaitlyn?

"I was talking to Y/N, but that works too," she clarifies with such a pleasant tone that barely feels genuine. You choose not to reply, remaining quiet to avoid raising any conflict. It's no secret that you two don't exactly get along; you'd rather not add to the list of reasons why.

To your dismay, she walks to the campfire with you, walking right between you and Max the entire way. She and Max are chattering about some movie you've never heard of; you can't bring yourself to listen. That feeling from earlier nags at your heart, Jacob's words echoing in your head. Does he like you, or did Jacob have a point back there?

At the campfire, the rest of the group has already gathered around the campfire; they're just waiting on you three.

"We couldn't find blankets," you supply, handing the bucket off to Kaitlyn's awaiting hands.

"Don't sweat it," she winks, "at least you found the lighter. Dylan has been hitting two rocks together for ten minutes, and it's getting old."

Max sits on the log next to Nick, blue eyes meeting yours as he pats the space next to him. At least, you thought he was looking at you. But before you can even comprehend what's happening, Laura is trotting over and plants herself in the space next to him, recharging their conversation from before.

"Y/N, over here!" Jacob waves, garnering your attention. Guess you're sitting next to Jacob, then.

With heavy feet, you wander up and sit next to him, trying not to look too dejected. It's really not that big of a deal. Who cares if Laura sits next to Max? Who cares if Max completely forgets your presence when she's around?

Not like you care at all.

"I'm sorry," Jacob says, handing you a wine cooler, "we tried but we couldn't talk her out of going to find you guys."

You've forgotten how hard it is to get these damn caps off. The skin on your fingers burn as you try and fail to twist it open.

"Need help?" Jacob cuts Max off, from whatever he was about to say. Nodding, you hand it back over.

It's unfair how easily he pops it off, adding it to his already decently sized collection of bottle caps. The alcohol is overwhelmingly sweet on your tongue, artificial strawberry overpowering the alcohol until it's just barely there. If only there were enough of these to go around; you reckon you could drink the memories of today away.

On your left, Dylan makes a face at his own drink, something bright orange. "Is strawberry any good? This one's not liking me too much."

You're not one to drink after people, but right now you'll take all the distractions you can get. "Only one way to find out," holding out your drink for an exchange.

Dylan's drink is much more tropical, a pleasant mixture of orange and pineapple that hits your taste buds much easier than the strawberry. This is the kind of thing you could drink all day and not get tired of.

"You're telling me that you don't like this?" You can't wrap your head around it, this is so much better than strawberry.

Dylan shrugs, seemingly much happier with your drink. "I hate pineapple."

That settles your trade quite nicely.

Like a broken record, your thoughts jump back to Max. All too coincidentally, he's looking at you, with this unreadable expression that you've never seen on him before. You wonder what that's about.

The campfire finally awakens and roars to life, flickers of red and orange lick the air, spitting up tiny particles of ash in its wake. You hate how the burning timber reminds you of Max's body wash. Why does everything have to remind you of him and his stupidly pretty face?

Truth or dare kicks up when you're just beginning to finish your second drink, some grape flavored thing, when your body has loosened and your head is spinning ever so slightly. Lack of drinking over the summer has obliterated your alcohol tolerance, and you're glad that nobody offers you a third, because any more may lead you to losing your filter and some questionable decisions.

"Y/N!" Oh god, why is Dylan saying your name.

"Huh?"

"Since you so graciously traded drinks with me, twice, might I add. You get to go first," he grins, eyes shimmering from the fire, "truth, or dare?"

What do you have to lose? "Truth."

He grins, a big toothy smile, and you're suddenly concerned about what you've gotten yourself into. "Who has the nicest body at this camp?"

God, you should have picked dare.

"Max," you croak, voice suddenly too heavy for your tongue, "sorry Jacob."

Jacob pouts like a kicked puppy, Max just turns red in the cheeks.

Everything devolves into a blur, thanks to the alcohol that's coursing through your veins like a wildfire. You dare Emma to exchange clothing with Kaitlyn, Ryan kisses Dylan, Nick's shoes wind up on the wrong feet, Jacob nearly jumps through the fire naked, Abi's hair is tied up in six different places. A storm is beginning to roll in, you can hear the thunder rolling in the distance, but you've still got time before the game has to wrap up.

Even without the storm distracting you and the alcohol clouding your thoughts, its hard to focus on the game. Not when Max keeps flicker his eyes between the fire and you, expression as unreadable as ever. Laura's saying something to him, but his eyes remain locked on your frame.

"Laura," Emma's voice shakes you from your trance. How long have you and Max had your eyes locked? "Truth or dare?"

Laura fiddles with the brim of her hat, thinking about her reply. "Dare."

"I dare you to kiss," she pauses, analyzing her audience like you're a bunch of adoring fans, "Nick, or...Max."

Your heart drops.

"Seriously, Em?" For the first time all night, Jacob sounds irritated, his formerly drunken, goofy tone long forgotten.

"I choose..." Laura stands, and for a split second, you wonder if she's going to kiss Nick instead. But then she's turning, planting her palms on Max's shoulders. "Max."

God, you can't sit here and watch this.

Your feet are hitting the ground before Laura can make her move. No amount of alcohol will make you sit through this. Someone's calling your name, but it falls upon deaf ears. Your body is moving much faster than your intoxicated brain can keep up with, but all you care about is getting as far away from the campfire as you can.

Footsteps follow after you, that voice is still calling your name.

"I'm not dealing with this," you mutter.

Against better judgement, you step off the beaten path and run into the forest as fast as your legs will carry you. Concern of what lurks in the forest is long forgotten, all you can think about is disappearing off the face of this Earth.

Max will never have feelings for you. Not when Laura, pretty, bold, hardheaded Laura, stands there in the spotlight. Fuck Laura, fuck Max, and fuck truth or dare.

You stumble upon a clearing, with a conveniently placed ranger box that you've never seen before. Surely you've gone far enough.

"What the fuck," you say to yourself, sitting on the metal box, "what the fuck?"

It's cold out here, and now you wish you'd worn a jacket. The fire was warm, yes, but has it always been this cold at night? You don't recall it being cold this morning, but then again...

Max's stupid face manifests at the forefront of your thoughts. Him and his stupid freckles and his stupid brown hair that has no right to be as soft as it is. You can't believe you thought you had a chance with that cute, airheaded bastard. So what if he was so excited to introduce himself to you at orientation that he spilled his juice on your white shoes.

There are plenty of fish in the sea, you're sure there's another guy out there who gives the sweetest hugs and calls you 'Honey' like it's going out of style. Who are you kidding?

The only fish you want is named Max.

Water hits your cheek. Are you crying?

It happens again, cold, running down the side of your face, then again, and again. Great. You're not crying, its raining.

"Wonderful," suddenly, you feel very, very sober as you take in your surroundings. It's so dark, who knows what's out here with you?

You're walking, but you have no memory of which direction you came in from. Where even are you? You've never seen this area before, never the less walked through it. Nothing looks familiar, and to make matters worse, a downpour starts.

"Can anybody here me?" You cry out, but you can barely hear your own voice over the rain.

The ground is slick under your feet, no doubt your shoes are going to be caked with mud by the time you find your way back to the lodge. Something crashes behind you, scratching the back of your neck. Yelping, you bolt, mind jumping to a million places. What was that? A tree? A bear?

Blood runs down your neck, hot and sticky, not at all like the frigid rain that's pelting your body. Water splashes under your feet, you're sure that it hasn't been raining very long but massive puddles have already formed; mud tugs at your shoes like a giant suction cup.

Pain blossoms in your right ankle.

You hit the ground with a heavy thud, crying out as excruciating pain bites its way down your foot.

"Fuck!" Your voice echoes the forest as you twist and turn in a frenzied horror, crying once more when the pain worsens. There's something tight latched around your ankle, teeth dug deep into your flesh. You're trying to pull your injured ankle away, but something holds tight; it feels like you're on a leash.

In the darkness, you catch a glimpse of shimmering silver. A bear trap.

Your foot is in a fucking bear trap.

"What the fuck?" Your voice cracks. There's a chain on the end of the trap, wrapped around a thin tree. Your trembling hands pry at the jaws of the trap, but your efforts are futile. Prying the trap open feels like the equivalent of prying open the jaws of a bear, you're far too weak to even make it budge.

The sharp, jagged teeth only dig into your flesh even more, boiling hot blood gushes from your wound like a waterfall, pooling in your shoe. Tears prick at your eyes, God this fucking hurts.

Light passes over you, impossibly bright, forces you to close your eyes in order to save your retinas from burning right out of your skull. A voice calls out. The light passes again, darts back to your pitiful frame in an instant. The voice raises again.

Dear Lord, why did you have to send Max?

One minute the world is cold and lonely, the next, Max is there, warm arms wrapping around you, drawing you into an even warmer chest. No amount of trying can hide your sniffling, the pained wail that escapes your lips is almost pathetic.

"Fuck, what the fuck?" His voice is high and pitchy, hands are cradling your cheeks. "Hold on, hold on."

He's letting you go, maneuvering down to get his fingers in between the jaws of the bear trap. Just his touch alone makes it all worse.

You don't want to let go of him, but you're powerless to stop him as he maneuvers around you. His foot catches the chain, disturbing the trap, and somehow it clamps down even harder.

"Ow!" You yank your foot away from him, yelping when the trap bites yet again. Fuck the man who designed this, and fuck whoever decided to put this damn trap out here.

Max is saying something, but you're not registering it. How are you supposed to listen when a bear trap is trying its damn best to tear your foot right off your body.

"Hey," he says again, "just keep your eyes on me, okay? I'm going to get you out of here." His hands slide down your leg as he speaks; you're too distracted by his voice to realize that he's placing your foot in his lap. "Just keep your eyes on me, honey."

You don't know why you comply. Maybe it's the pet name; maybe it's because your foot is in a bear trap. But you do, whining, you force your eyes to meet his. For the first time in your life, you struggle to lose yourself in his eyes, in him, his presence. He's stroking the sensitive skin at the bend of your knee, gently, slowly, coaxing your leg out from under you. You don't even remember when you'd yanked it away again.

Slow, his fingers hook into the gaps of the teeth, biceps bulging under his jacket as he pries the trap open. The teeth slowly ease from your injured flesh, agonizingly slow, blood gushing from the wound. Finally, finally, it's open just enough for you to pull your foot out, and then it's snapping shut again with a noise that has your heart-stopping.

With your foot free from its confines, you stumble up to your feet, using a tree as leverage. What you don't expect is for your ankle to hurt even worse than it did when it was in the bear trap. It catches you so off guard that by the time you bite your tongue, you've already made a noise, and Max is reacting to it.

"Hey, hey, hey, hold on," he's crowding you, wrapping an arm around you when you stumble.

"I can walk on my own," you lie through your teeth; had he not sidled up next to you when he did, you would be on the ground again.

"No, you can't," his voice gets that pitchiness again, "do you know how far away from camp we are? I've been looking for you for a half hour!"

It's only now that you realize how hard he's breathing. There's mud caked to his boots and the legs of his jeans, his hair so wet that he looks like he's walked right out of a shower, cheeks red.

"Why even come after me?" You grumble under your breath. "Shouldn't you be making out with Laura by the campfire right about now?"

Max stiffens. "That's not...no, that's-"

"-that's not, what? Max?" The words drip from your lips like venom. Your injured foot its the ground again; trying your hardest to walk away, but it only throws your balance off even more. All it does for you is push you closer to Max, your shoulder bumping against his ridiculously firm chest.

"I didn't kiss her." His words are so quiet, yet your ears burn as if he'd yelled them through a megaphone.

Oh.

"I didn't spend an entire summer trying to work up the courage to ask you out, just to watch you walk away because of some stupid campfire game," whispered so quietly into your ear that it tickles, nose bumping against your cold cheek.

Oh.

A wrongly placed step leads you to crash into him, minimizing the gap between you until there's almost nothing left. His nose bumps into yours, arms wrapping around your waist as he gathers you up against him.

"Fuck you," you're wrapping your arms around his neck, "you couldn't have told me this sooner?"

And then you're kissing him. Lips clashing together, wet and messy. His lips are so soft against yours, moving slowly, molding against your own so easily, so naturally. Your head spins; if his large hands weren't gripping your waist, you fear you may float up into the clouds and never come back down.

Lightning flashes and thunder cracks, reminding you of your surroundings, of where you are. You've almost forgotten about the throbbing in your ankle, just a dull pain that can't even begin to take your mind off of Max.

Then you're putting weight on it, and okay, maybe the pain is enough to take your mind off of him. "Ow, — shit."

Max is bending down, and in one motion, he scoops you off the ground. It's unfair how easily he does it. "Let's get you taken care of, honey," the goofy grin on his face is so big that it can be heard in his tone.

He makes it look easy, carrying you out of the forest like it's the simplest thing he's ever done. You rest your head on his shoulder, shivering from the cold rain that doesn't want to let up. Thunder cackles and lightning crashes, lighting up the forest around you. You jump every time, clinging to Max just a little bit more.

Forever passes before Max steps out into a clearing, the lodge standing tall before you, not a light on in sight. It's hard to tell if it's just abandoned or the power has gone out. Usually, the lamp post would be able to tell you, but the bulb burnt out weeks ago. Mr. H never wants to replace the damn lights.

"Did you find them?" Abi's head pops out the door; breathes a sigh of relief when she catches glimpse of Max carrying you up the steps.

It's much warmer inside; everyone's gathered by the fireplace, curled up in bean bags and whatever else they could have found. Dylan's even drug in Mr. H's spinning chair.

With the campfire's light, you can finally see just how messed up you really are. You're absolutely caked with mud, so much so that you can't even tell how badly your ankle has been injured.

"Is there any reason why Mr. H would have bear traps in the woods?" This is the most serious tone you've ever come out of Max.

"I'm sorry, bear traps?" Ryan's head pops up from behind Dylan. Weakly, you raise your bloody foot. It seems to be enough of an answer because everyone's face changes.

Kaitlyn practically tears your shoe off, revealing your formerly white, now crimson red, sock. "This needs to be cleaned before it gets infected," she observes, gingerly touching the swollen skin around your injury, "you should go upstairs and get properly washed up."

Max doesn't need much convincing, already making for the single stairwell that's been cleared. There's a nice bathroom hidden upstairs; you've never seen the inside of it because Mr. H won't let anyone use it unless it's an emergency.

It's worth the wait, though. The bathroom is ridiculously nice compared to the ones scattered around camp. Complete with a marble countertop, two sinks, and miniature stairs that lead to a comically large bathtub. It looks right out of a magazine.

"So this must be where Mr. H takes his hot dates," Max comments, sitting you down on the edge of the counter. It feels strange to see the lights flick on, illuminating the room in a gentle, golden glow.

"You're a mess," you giggle, reaching out to pluck a leaf from Max's hair. He looks worse than you do, somehow.

"It's been a hell of a night," he rolls his eyes when you tussle his wet hair, batting your offending hand away. He presses a chaste kiss to your lips, soft and sweet. "I'm gonna go see if I can find you some clean clothes, 'kay?"

You nod, stealing a second kiss just because you can now. When he's gone, you slide off the counter, balancing your weight on your good foot. Might as well start a bath.

To your surprise, Mr. H has several bottles of bath bubbles stored in a cabinet, right next to some big, fluffy white towels. You hope he doesn't mind too much that you borrow some of the vanilla-scented bubbles and help yourself to more towels than you actually need. Surely he'll understand when he sees your injury.

The hot water kicks on immediately, a stark contrast to the barely functioning showers downstairs. It takes at least forty-five seconds for the water to be tolerably warm and even longer for it to get hot. With the bubbles added, you begin to peel off your clothes, grimacing at how they stick to your skin.

It all becomes worth it when you slide down into the tub, aching muscles relaxing the moment you've settled. Even the dull stinging in your ankle cannot take away from how nice the water feels around you.

"Sorry, I couldn't find your bag, so I'm giving you some of my clothes instead — holy shit!" Max yelps, turning his back to you. "I am so sorry; oh my God, I should have knocked."

You can't help but laugh, unbothered by the intrusion. "If I cared about you walking in, I would have locked the door," you giggle, "you can turn around, silly."

Truthfully, you hadn't even thought about locking the door. As long as it's him and not someone else, you can't bring yourself to care about the intrusion. He's pretty much seen you at your worst already.

His movements are slow, cheeks flaming red as he sets his bag of clothes on the counter. He doesn't look at you, refuses to tear his eyes from his feet.

"You have so much mud on you," you remark, tracing your eyes up his frozen frame.

Blue eyes dart to you, then back to the floor. "I'll wash it off once you're taken care of."

Hm.

"I mean," you can't believe you're suggesting this, "this bath is big enough for the two of us."

You swear he jumps.

"I-" he rubs the back of his neck, gaze fixated on the bottom of the tub, "are you serious?"

Shrug. "Serious as a bear trap."

Leaning your head back, you close your eyes. Only after a night of drinking and bear traps would you ever consider suggesting sharing a bath with Max. He's shuffling around, shoes hitting the floor with a small thump. You peek an eye open. Immediately you're met with an eye full as Max lifts his shirt from his body, back muscles rippling with the motion. He must see you in the mirror because he freezes, shirt still above his head.

"Don't mind me," closing your eyes again.

It's another minute or two before you feel the bath water disturb. You want to open your eyes, but you save it for when you feel him settling in across from you, legs bumping into your own. He looks like a deer in headlights, but he's there, toned chest, messy hair, and all.

Teasing, you bump your knee against his. "You look terrified."

"You're just really pretty," he says like he's in a trance, only breaking from it when your eyes widen. "I mean, I...did I say that out loud? I'm sorry, that probably sounded really weird. I didn't-"

You don't know what possesses you to do it, but you find yourself turning and scooting over to his side of the tub, water sloshing as you curl yourself into his side. His jaw snaps shut the moment your head comes to rest against his shoulder.

"Oh." It's clear in his tone that he's more than surprised, but he raises no objections, even relaxes against you. His head leans on top of yours, arm shifting to wrap around your shoulders and draw you even closer.

His heart is beating away in his chest; you can hear it from where your ear rests against his collarbone. "I'm sorry that I made you feel like I didn't have feelings for you," he presses his lips to your temple, "I really should have confessed weeks ago."

"Weeks ago?"

He hums; the vibration tickles. "I was going to, back when we had that slumber party."

Ah, the slumber party. Simultaneously one of the best and longest nights of your stay at Hacketts Quarry. If only Emma didn't have a foghorn in her family lineage.

"What stopped you?"

"Emma's snoring kept interrupting me."

You can't help the giggle that falls from your lips. It certainly explains his strange behavior from that night, from the endless stuttering to the way he would stare off into space.

"What are you laughing at, hm?" His arm around you tightens, breath tickling your skin. "Are you laughing at me?"

It only makes you laugh more, trying and failing to push his head away. "No, I'm not!" You squeal, squirming away from the fingers tickling your waist. Your legs kick, unintentionally sloshing water out of the tub and onto the flooring below; the tickles stop immediately after, but they're replaced by something more.

Kisses.

Tiny ones, all up and down the side of your face, neck, and any open skin Max can reach. Laughter erupts after every peck; this night genuinely doesn't feel real. He works his way over to your lips once he's covered every inch of you in kisses. It turns out he's saved the best for last.

The angle is awkward; you have to crane your neck to the side to meet his lips properly, but it's worth the struggle. Just a simple caress at first, feather-light and barely there, then it deepens, head spinning, lips interlocked in the sloppiest of ways. His free hand is finding yours, guiding it up until your fingers intertwine in his hair; he sighs as that, smiling into the kiss.

Your neck is starting to hurt, but the idea of breaking your kiss for even a second hurts more. In one swift motion, you turn, throwing your leg over and straddling his hips, properly settled into his lap.

"Fuck," he gasps against your lips, "honey."

You can feel him pressed up against you between your legs; a shiver wracks down your spine. You'd almost forgotten that you were naked, but God, you could really get used to this. Large hands settle on your thighs, fingertips tracing from the back of your knees to the base of your neck; one settles there, the other finds its way around your waist, gathering you into his chest.

Teeth nip at your bottom lip, hot tongue soothing over the area, and who are you to deny him? You meet him halfway, heat blossoms in your belly, tongues sloppily tangling before retreating. This time, you don't mean to move, but your knee slides under you, unintentionally grinding down into his lap. That heat rages into a fire, thighs twitching around his hips. Shit, that shouldn't have felt as nice as it did.

Max is breaking away from you, toned chest panting, pupils blown wide. Not a word falls from his lips, but his eyes, the hand resting on the swell of your ass, say it all. All you can do is nod. Whatever this is, you want it.

His lips find your exposed neck in an instant, kissing at a spot below your ear that has a noise falling from your kiss-swollen lips. The hand you had tangled in his hair comes up to cover your mouth, muffling the next sound that ripples out of your throat when Max's tongue traces down the side of your neck.

He pauses, reaching up to remove the hand from your mouth, "wanna hear you." His voice is husky, a far cry from his usual tone.

Arms wrap tightly around you, and then he's moving, lifting you up and out of the water. The room is surprisingly cold compared to the lukewarm water, and you barely have time to hook your legs around his hips before he's stepping out of the bath. He sets you up on the counter, pecking your lips as he does so.

All you see is white.

The towel on your head moves back, settling around your wet shoulders instead, "sorry," Max chuckles, and then he's kissing you again.

It's chaotic, torn between teasing tongues and lingering lips, teeth clacking together as you try to dry yourselves the best that you can. The bathroom counter is low enough for Max's hips to comfortably slot between your legs, and you can feel the head of his cock nudging between your legs, but it's still too high. Not if you want him in you.

Squirming to the edge of the counter isn't enough, but Max is smart, catches on to what you're trying to do so quickly that you're suspicious as to whether or not he can read minds.

"Do you want this, honey?" He whispers against your lips, tone sickly sweet.

"Do you really need an answer to that?" This man is going to give you cavities.

Fingers brush up the inside of your thighs, wandering up, up, up; sparks fire their way up your spine. His lips find yours again, briefly, because you can't help the gasp that escapes you when his thumb teases your entrance.

"Fuck, Max." He has no right to smile that cutely at a time like this.

Especially not when he sinks to his knees guides your legs over his shoulders and begins kissing and licking the sensitive skin of your inner thighs, leaving behind patches of red that will surely bruise in the morning. His breath is hot, fanning out against your most sensitive areas. Pause. Then, his tongue is on you, with slow, languid strokes that have your head falling back against the mirror with a loud gasp.

You're bringing your hand up, trying to catch the whine that leaves you, but Max is prying it away before it can even get there. Blue eyes shimmer up at you, guiding your hand to the back of his head.

"Fu-fuck, Max!" You mewl, tangling your hand in his hair.

He draws away from you, just long enough to wet two of his fingers with his tongue, and then he's back. Fingertips teasing at your entrance, tongue flicking against you. You squirm, panting, hand tugging at his hair, God, why is he so fucking good at this?

There's a pressure, a long, calloused finger sliding into you, in and out, moving in perfect tune with his tongue. Sucking harshly, chuckling when you jolt, then there's a second finger, stretching you so, so nicely. His tongue wanders between his fingers, momentarily dips inside of you, travels back up, down, back in again.

"Max~!" You cant help the profanities that fall from your lips when his fingers curl, rubbing against a sensitive spot that you didn't know was there. You're tightening around his fingers, squirming; you don't know if you want more or if you want to get away from it.

A third finger eases into your trembling body, then a fourth, working into a rhythm that's driving you towards the edge. No, no, no, it's too early for you to cum already.

Words fail you; you don't even know what you're trying to say. All you can do is tug at his hair, kicking your good foot against his back.

"Is something wrong?" His lips and chin are shiny, wet with saliva, and you.

"Close," is all you can say. What in the world did he expect?

Max chuckles at that, pressing one last kiss to your thigh before coming back up. He's reaching into the cabinet behind you, and your eyes don't miss how wet his hand has become. "You don't reckon Mr. H has any condoms lying around here, do you?"

The eye roll that leaves you is almost instantaneous. "Don't need one."

That's enough for him. He's gathering you up again, guiding your legs over his hips, and then he's lifting you, and your back is hitting the wall.

Oh.

That's why he used four fingers.

"Good lord," is all you can say, eyes fixated on his cock, resting between your legs. It's not the length that you're worried about; it's how absolutely thick he is. How the hell does he plan to fit that in you?

He has no right to turn so red, bashfully avoiding your eye, but he spits into his hand and works his saliva over himself so confidently that your head spins. You'd always known there were two sides to Max, but come to find out, there are actually three.

"Tell me if it hurts, honey," he murmurs, leaning in to peck your lips, "'kay?"

"What, think I can't take it?" You tease, but you don't even know if you can take that. Only one way to find out.

Now it's his turn to roll his eyes, shifting to line himself up with your entrance. There's a pressure bigger than the one his fingers brought, and then he's pushing inside. Your body flutters open, slow; your legs twitch at the stretch. There's a strange popping sensation as the head finally eases all the way in.

"There you go," Max's eyes are fixated between your legs, mesmerized by how his cock stretches you open, disappearing inside inch by agonizingly slow inch.

Your head is spinning; you have to remind yourself to breathe, mewling at just how deliciously wide he spreads you. You don't know where your body is finding the space, but your insides are clenching around him greedily, taking it and taking it until finally, finally, his hips are flush against yours.

"Fuck," Max breathes, "how are you feeling?"

"Full." More than full. Full to the point that it's hard to breathe. Your legs are trembling; if it wasn't for him pressing you into the wall, you're sure you would have fallen by now.

His hips rock, drawing out just a little bit, then sinking back in, once, twice, driving the breath from your lungs with every shallow thrust. Quicker now, he draws out, drives his hips back up; the whimper that leaves you is loud, echoes throughout the bathroom.

“You like that, honey?” And when you clench down around him, he groans, repeats that motion again. Your head knocks back against the wall.

With his lips settling on your neck, Max sets his pace, long, slow thrusts, twitching his hips in different angles as he fucks you open until he hits a spot that has you jolting in his arms. One of your hands are tangled in his brown hair; the other is around his neck, nails biting into and raking down his pale shoulder with every dizzying thrust.

"Max!" His name falls from your lips like a mantra, like it's the only word you know. "T-there!"

"Yeah?" He breathes, picking up his pace but the head of his cock never once loses that spot. Hits it over and over until you feel tears burning behind your eyelids.

"Eyes on me, honey," his lips ghost the shell of your ear, cock driving into you harder now, sudden, shattering the agonizing pace he'd built up. You don't even know when you closed your eyes, but when you pry them open, the sight you find is enough to make your eyes roll back again.

Max, sweet, sweet Max, pink-cheeked, irises blown wide, muscles rippling every time he drives himself back into you. Even as he's panting for breath, he has the audacity to grin at you, chuckles when you whimper.

He's shuffling, pushing you higher up the wall just by his hips, driving out the space between you. This angle is so, so different; he's hitting that sweet spot inside you with every thrust, harder, just a little bit faster than before. Lips lock with yours, tongues tangling with such ease that you feel yourself become lightheaded.

There's a heat roaring in your belly, grows hotter every time his hips meet yours, body squirming, powerless to do anything but take it. You're whining, both hands on his shoulders now, gasping for breath against his plush lips.

"Honey," he groans, punctuates it with a particularly hard thrust that has you seeing stars, "are you close?"

All you can do is nod, whimpering his name. Max is losing his rhythm, torn between long and short strokes into your aching hole, and God, you're so fucking close that your whole body is shaking. You can't even clench around him anymore; body so worked open by his dick that you've lost all control over it.

"Inside," you choke out, burying your head in his neck, "cum in me."

He doesn't need to be told twice, picking up the pace. You can't think, can't even contain your noises, and thank God the bathroom is on the farthest side of the lodge, where nobody can hear you cry out his name one last time.

Your vision goes white; nails dig into Max’s back as you cum around him. His hips stutter to a halt, cums in your trembling body with a strangled noise that sounds like your name. For a few moments, you're weightless, floating up into the clouds as your body spasms with what energy it has left.

There's a wetness on your shoulder.

All of a sudden, you're back on Earth, lungs working double time. One of your legs have fallen, only held up by Max's hips and the hand that's rubbing circles into your lower back. You clench around him; he jumps.

"Are you crying?"

Red, puffy eyes meet yours. "Happy tears," he promises, rubbing your noses together.

It takes a minute for him to pull out of you, cum spilling out and running down your thighs. Your legs are shaking so badly that you can't stand, and you're very aware of your injury again. Max wastes no time in scooping you up again and placing you on the counter, takes his time cleaning you up.

The bathroom is much warmer than it was when you first walked in, but it's still considerably cold. While Max busies himself with a warm cloth between your thighs, you reach into his bag in search of warm, dry clothes, and by God do you find them.

"Well, that's just not fair," he pouts, "why do you look better in my clothes than I do?" You blush at that, fiddling with the end of his sweater.

With a properly cleaned and wrapped ankle, you climb onto Max's back, comfortably resting there as he carries you downstairs. Much to your relief, they've put a movie on the projector, barely even noticing your arrival.

"Took you long enough," Emma sing-songs. "We figured you'd drowned up there."

"Sorry, got caught up in a battle with the house ghosts," you struggle to hide your wince when you sit down. Something tells you that you'll not be able to walk in the morning, or the next day, for that matter.

You thought you'd hid it pretty well until Max winks at you.

Smug bastard.

And if anybody notices the way you waddle to the truck the next morning, they don't say anything. Not even when Mr. H drops you off where the cars are parked and you clamber into Max's passenger seat rather than hopping on the bus with Emma.

"So," Max grins, tapping the steering wheel, "what adventure are we going on next?"

This world isn't ready for the hell the two of you are about to raise.

After you can walk again, of course.

#the quarry #the quarry x reader #the quarry x you #max brinly #max brinly x reader #x reader #self insert #reader self insert #max the quarry #quarry game #hacketts quarry #the quarry smut #max brinly smut #oneshot #the quarry max #updated 09/20/23 to remove mentions of hair

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