#I feel like there wasn’t a specific moment just more so a gradual change of feelings from friends > crushes > lovers

[thesapphicsoldier]

Do you guys think that there was a moment™️ that Mike and Will feel in love with each other? Because ik most of us believe that they started liking each other before season 1, but when do you think they fell in love? Is there a specific scene in your head or just like a rough timeline?

[screampied]

ok hear me out toji is always rough and somehow mean when you fuck, but something happens to you (you can decide what) and he turns really soft and gentle for one night. just one.

❤︎ ໋𓈒 toji being soft with you for once

warnings. fem! reader, soft dom toji, praise, missionary, talking you through it, mdni.

being in bed with toji, he’s usually almost always rough and degrading. it’s something he’s mostly used to, however there’d be a specific time where he’d have to change things up . . . just for you.

he’d notice something’s wrong the minute he’s about to align himself again. you’re awfully quiet underneath him as you awaited and he’s well aware of how you keep avoiding his stoic gaze. “hm,” he’d ponder aloud with a mere natural pout. toji grabs ahold of your chin before softly stroking it with his thumb, making you stare right into his green curious irises. “something’s wrong. talk to me, babygirl.”

“nothing’s wrong, you can finish—”

“something’s wrong,” he repeats, his voice is a bit more stern yet it’s still gentle. he slows down and brings a thumb towards your cheek to lightly stroke it. “you’re avoiding eye contact,” he points out, still inside you yet he brings his hips to an abrupt pause. toji’s panting yet he takes a moment to breathe. “you can talk to me, y’know.”

you briefly meet his dark pupils before letting off a low exhale. “i . . had a bad day,” and then as he’s hovering over your body, you slowly drag out your final breathy words in a sheepish, “can you—can you hold my hand?”

“aw,” he teases, grabbing your hand before intertwining his thick stubby fingers with yours. his touch was so safe, so warm, so gentle. his thumb strokes against the back of your hand before he holds onto your hip with another. “want a head pat too, sweetheart?”

“s-shut up,” you moan, feeling the tip of his dick prof against your entrance. he wasn’t exactly moving but you still felt him. your ankle runs against toji’s back and he’s so close to you that you could smell the strong aroma of alcohol and mint linger on his breath. toji’s now softened gaze never leaves you and his kittenish eyes ease up soothingly. “just go slow ‘n hold my hand, toji.”

“so sensitive today,” he purrs, leaning to kiss the top of your forehead. it was something about his voice—the way he spoke to you currently, it was just so smooth. his eyes that were known to always be cruel and intimidating palliate just at the sight of you— the sight of his pretty girl underneath him, asking for a simple request to hold her hand. “. . mwah,” and the moment his lips brush against your skin, you let off a soft whine. “i’ll go niiice ‘n slow for you, yeah.”

once he finally picks up his pace again, he’s so gentle with you. the grip on your hand tightens a bit and you moan.

you’re always used to toji being so rough in bed, manhandling you and all—alas, you never exactly minded of course, but a change of pace like this was strikingly nice.

his stumpy fingers strum against yours before you feel his hips gradually move again. “t-toooji,” you whine out, watching as he kisses near your neck. so benign, so tender. toji was always familiar with every inch of your body. he knew the layout of your body as if it was an apartment. he always knew where to go, your weakest and most sensitive spots— forever engraved into his mind. with your eyes starting to roll back, you squeal out a shaky, “i l-love you.”

“cock drunk already?” he fake pouts, a smile curling against his lips before he slowly starts to thrust into you. the moans that left your mouth were incredibly melodic, a mere harmony he was listening to. toji couldn’t help but grin at your sweet words of whimpers of how much you loved him, losing yourself completely on his cock. “but i love you more, princess,” and he feels your ankle scrape further down his tense back muscles. a rigorous surge of wind forcefully plucks from your lungs and you struggle to suppress your own whines. so good, so thick. toji squeezes your hand tightly, giving your forehead another chaste kiss. “how’s it feel? ‘s slow enough for you, baby?”

“good, y—yes, ‘toj,” you whimper, both hands throwing around his broad neck, over his high rising shoulders. he was merely nude, only wearing a white tee to follow. the chain that was wrapped around his neck dangles against your face every so often and you mewl out a sweet desperate sob for more. “touch me more toji, p-please. touch me.”

he snickers. “oh. am i not touchin’ you?”

you pout and he’s enjoying your brief irritation. whenever you were getting frustrated—you always had such cute expressions, especially when your lip frowns up or your eyebrows twitch to show your sheer vex. with a sigh, you grumble, “kiss me, toji. i want a kiss.”

“you . . want a kiss?” he softly coos, his voice was as smooth as silk. so sweet, deliciously candied with each word he pronounces at you. the rasp underneath his tone only made you throb for an even longer time. with an eyebrow raise, toji accelerates his hips before he feels your gummy walls stretch out perfectly. you were so good for him, so fucking good. his cock rummages inside of you to where your eyes were merely reaching the sockets. until all you saw was nothing but black, an entire void of straight nothingness. as your eyes remain stuck back into the very depths of your cranium, he’s always loved looking at your dramatic expressions—especially whenever he was on top of you. “say please. ‘m bein’ soft for right now but don’t forget those manners i taught ya, sweetheart.”

you sigh again and he slyly smiles at your sheer frustration.

“. . pleaseee,” you whine out, dragging your nails down his back. by now, you were sure his back was coated with a few marks from your pointed fingertips. the way your bottom lip pokes out once you pout yet again was so adorable. “kiss me toji, please.”

“anything for the pretty girl,” he murmurs in a soft voice, bringing a rough hand to cup the right side of your face. his pace was just so tantalizingly slow, emitting out all types of whiney moans from your lips. toji leans in and the moment his lips press against yours, you whimper. he’s stuffing you full of inches in the meantime — feeling the way your walls adjust and constrict around him. as both lips are moving in rhythmic tavern, you legs squeeze around his slim jerking waist.

toji’s always been fond of your taste, so glacé. his tongue runs against your bottom lip, tasting your sweet lip gloss before he grunts into your mouth.

thick heavy balls slowly pound into you and his pace was so salaciously relentless that it welts out all kinds of squelches directly from your cunt.

“f-fuuck,” he groans, each pivot he creates only grows more rapid and sloppy. he’s so thorough, the angle makes you whimper into his mouth before you compress around his length tighter. he’s so close up to you, the warmth of his body colliding up against yours makes you throb more. toji’s speaking in between kisses — a string of spit departs each time he leaves, swiping his tongue against your lip before after about a nth amount of kisses later, he finally breaks away. “aw. did i love you too hard, princess? you look a little out of breath.”

“s—shut up,” you moan, clinging onto his back even tighter. he was right though, your lungs were strained and you were panting heavily, heaving. the wind gets yanked out of your throat before you slump back against the bed. “gonna c-cum, toji. gonna cum,” and then you meet his softly coy gaze— he returns the eye contact before you see a bit of tenderness in his dark irises. “please, please let me cum, ‘toj. pleaseee.”

the smile against toji’s lips further— you’re so cute, the way you were chasing your current orgasm. it felt like a wave, an abrupt wave that was about to collide. your cunt holds him hostage before he leans in to kiss the bridge of your nose.

“mwahhh,” he purrs softly, deepening his hits against you before your thighs end up aching underneath near the very undersides. he’s so deep that your jaw dangles open. hot breathy puffs of air leave past your lips before he strokes your cheek. “give it to me, baby. c’mon, i got you.”

as he’s talking in such a smoothly polished tone, his words send a plethora of butterflies inside of your stomach.

toji stares at you in such a lovingly way— it last for at least six seconds, he looks like he’s about to say something even further before he stops himself. “aw. don’t space out on me now, gorgeous,” and he strokes your cheek. “squeeze my hand, girl.”

“hngh c-cumming,” you whimper, feeling your stomach seize a few times before you finally climax. it comes at such a speed that you’re taken aback. your own clammy hand grips against his whilst a thumb strokes against his knuckles before he smiles. you’re shaking, convulsing and his cock’s still buried into you from the very hilt. toji leans in, his broad chest pressing against yours before he licks near your neck. you moan, feeling your collarbone start to dampen up from his wet tongue— toji chuckles, watching you spasm out on his length before he stops his hips again. “f-fuck.”

“. . . so cute,” he susurrates, and his deep raspy voice was a mere whisper. he spoke in a hushed tone, staring deeply into your eyes before picking up your hand to kiss it. “do you feel a little better?”

“a— a little,” you inhale a sharp breath, his weight just idly hovering over your hot-tempered body. everything felt so good, it was a reoccurring ring in your ears that always came whenever you were tweaking out on his dick— he’s always loved the twitch your lips make, failing to get your words out whenever you came. in rushed words, you whine out a sweet, “t-thank you toji, thank you,” and he’s taken by surprise once you pull him into nothing more than a sweet hug. “love you.”

it takes him a good minute to reply, he has a playful pout on his lips as he’s still inside—you feel his tip mash against your sweet spot, causing you to whimper against his ear before he kisses the sensitive outer shell of your earlobe.

“oh but i love you more, babygirl,” and you feel him gradually pull out. you frown at the sudden feeling of being empty before he hums at your expression. “now, let’s get some sleep. i’ll even sing you a song, just for you.”

[fatalism-and-villainy]

More thoughts about the dynamic I talked about here:

It’s telling that the way Abigail engages with Hannibal re: Nick Boyle’s death is very different from the way she engages with Will about it (and by extension, that the way Hannibal engages with Will about GJH’s death is very different from how he engages with Abigail about Nick Boyle’s death).

That is to say, Hannibal’s initial, outward response to Abigail killing Nick Boyle is primarily disapproval - foregrounding what she’s most trying to conceal about herself, and positioning himself as a moral authority who’s making a considerable sacrifice to protect her:

Hannibal: This isn’t self-defense, Abigail. You butchered him. Abigail: I didn’t. Hannibal: They will see what you did. And they will see you as an accessory to the crimes of your father. Abigail: I wasn’t. Hannibal: I can help you, if you ask me to. At great risk to my career and my life. You have a choice. You can tell them you were defending yourself when you gutted this man. Or we can hide the body. (1.3)

Later, he changes tack and allows that Abigail did do the right thing and that self-defense is an excusable motive:

Abigail: You’re glad I killed him. Hannibal: What would be the alternative? That he kill you? (1.3)

And:

Abigail: In the dream, I wonder how I could live with myself, knowing what I did. Hannibal: And when you’re awake? Abigail: When I’m awake, I know I can live with myself. And I know I’ll just get used to what I did. Does that make me a sociopath? Hannibal: No. It makes you a survivor. (1.4)

This change in approach is partly by design, I think - his more condemnatory initial approach impresses on Abigail the worst possible interpretation of her actions (and hints at the fact that he can see through the front she’s putting up), in order to get her to trust him, and then gradually he starts to show qualified approval and emphasize her agency to move behind her father’s influence. And his emphasis on self-defense in their conversation at the end of Potage serves as a way of deflecting Abigail’s sharp inference that he might be a serial killer. But he consistently only approves of Abigail committing murder in utilitarian terms, rather than emphasizing any satisfaction Abigail might have gotten from it.

And the person who does validate that for her is, of course, Will, when they compare notes on killing her father vs. killing Nick Boyle:

Abigail: I thought there was something wrong with me, because I didn’t feel ugly when I killed Nick Boyle. I felt good. That’s why it was so easy to lie about it. Will: Like you didn’t do anything wrong. Abigail: Feel like you’d done something wrong when you killed my dad? Will: I felt terrified. And then… I felt powerful. Abigail: It felt good. To get to end it, to stop it all. (1.12)

They’re both nodding so vigorously by the end of that exchange, just fully understanding in that moment how the other is feeling. And significantly, Hannibal doesn’t set himself up as someone with whom she can unload those feelings on, or find that kind of understanding with! Obviously he doesn’t want to go mask-off about being a serial killer immediately, but he doesn’t even drop any hints with about the appeal of murder; and meanwhile with Will, where he’s got all his “it’s beautiful, in its own way” and “killing must feel good to God” and “not flesh and blood but light and air and colour” lines. Aside from his initial intimation that she had darker motives, his approach with Abigail is mostly affirming her best qualities, suggesting she’s not like her father and that she had no choice but to kill Nick Boyle. And Will ends up being the one to affirm Abigail’s darker qualities.

And, well - my sense of why Hannibal takes this approach is that he was hoping for exactly that. He wanted Abigail to go to Will with those feelings, to be drawn to Will because he offered a potential source of a specific kind of validation and understanding that she wasn’t getting from Hannibal - and thus, for Abigail to help draw out Will’s murderous impulses in turn. Just as he used the prospect of protecting Abigail to push Will’s sense of ethics a little bit farther out. They were both the bait, for each other.

[hauntedveil]

In just a few days, I will be going back to school, and it's almost surreal to reflect on the person I was just a year ago…

A year ago, I started my graduate studies at a large prestigious university. Since then I’ve:

1. Started transitioning- Embracing my natural hair was a significant change for me. Since childhood, my hair had been regularly chemically straightened, and I never knew what it actually looked like in its natural state. After years of dealing with dry, brittle hair that was falling out at the roots, I decided to stop all chemical processing and allow my hair to grow as it was meant to. This journey has been challenging; filled with tearful nights and more moments of low confidence than not. I still struggle with my self-image, as my long, straight hair was deeply tied to my sense of identity and beauty. As I work on regrowing my hair, I’m gradually coming to terms with my changing appearance. I’m attempting to redefine my standards of beauty, and I trust that, in time, I’ll feel like myself again—beautiful in a new way.

2- went vegetarian. This might not come as a surprise to myself, considering I've spent much of my life already limiting parts of my diet. For a few years, I was pescatarian. When I started college and began cooking for myself, the only meat I would occasionally prepare was bacon for breakfast. Raw meat has always genuinely repulsed me. There wasn’t a specific reason or a pivotal moment that led me to fully embrace vegetarianism; it was more of a gradual shift. Perhaps part of me was drawn to the idea of doing something that might make me seem more interesting, and I also believed that being vegetarian would encourage healthier eating habits. With some heart issues in my past, I’ve become more intentional about my diet. I don’t hold anything against eating meat; I simply recognize that avoiding it is better for the environment—and ultimately, better for my health as well.

3. Became goth- I had never been educated about subcultures. Growing up black meant that any music that wasn’t rap or RnB was deemed “white music”. In middle school, I was bullied heavily for liking One Direction and Justin Bieber. So naturally, I hid my love for Fall Out Boy. There were no outwardly alt people at my school, so I was never exposed to subcultures. While I had friends who shared my taste in music, we were unaware that our interests were part of a broader subculture. I mostly listened to emo and metal, but without knowing any better, I labeled anything alternative as “rock,” unaware that it was more nuanced. Last year, while watching YouTube I stumbled across a goth makeup tutorial and decided to watch because I had been wanting to learn how to make more dramatic/dark makeup work on my features. From there, I was recommended more videos, and my interest was piqued. What made something goth? I began researching and soon found myself deep in the history and musical intricacies of the goth genre. To my surprise, I discovered that goth was a music-based subculture rooted in the very music I had been listening to for years. I continued educating myself and found I deeply resonated with the subculture and its ideologies. The rest is as you know it.

4. Got a piercing- now this may seem tame to a lot of you, but I remember being in middle school, swearing I’d never get any piercings or tattoos. I never imagined it would be something I’d want. It didn’t help that I’ve always had a huge fear of needles—I feel so bad for my piercer; I’m sure I stressed her out. So why did I get a piercing? I love how it looks. I’d been wearing a fake piercing now and then for a while, and I always felt prettier with it. I was hesitant to get a real one because I didn’t want to look too alternative at school. But at some point, I just thought, screw it. Learning so much about the anti-establishment and anti-conformist roots of punk and goth made me realize—why was I trying so hard to please people who have never accepted me? People who have never had a positive opinion of me? I got a piercing because I’m tired of hiding who I am. I’m a little weird and unstable, and who cares?

It's incredible how much can change in a year. I'm so far from the girl who was too afraid to express herself at a new school, still grappling with the sadness and disappointment of a lonely, unfulfilling college experience. I am no longer that girl, and yet, in some ways, I still am. I see her every time I look in the mirror. I remind her that it's okay if people see me now. They *will* see me, and I won't shrink because of it. I won’t. I'm so proud of her, and I know she’s proud of me too.

I’m excited to start school again, knowing that this time, I’ll be entirely myself.

[definitelynotafurinasimp]

Hii! Thank you for all ur works, it really makes my day when I read or reread your posts, and I hope you’re doing well💚 lately (months) my friends have been ditching last minute, so ig the prompt would be s/o has friends that are rude and mean (doesn’t have to be that specifically, it could just be a rude stranger) and (these are the characters) ningguang, yae, Jean, lisa and yelan stand up for them and comfort them… I need some comfort🥲

Them standing up to a rude stranger for you

Characters: Yae Miko/Jean x gn!reader (separate)

Warnings: none

a/n: I’m sorry, but I had to leave out Yelan, Ningguang and Lisa, I’ve been sitting here for the past 3 days already and honestly have no idea how to start for them or what to write afterwards, so I hope you’re fine with just Jean and Yae, if not then I’m once again really sorry.

I also hope that what I wrote matches what you envisioned, if I got something wrong or misunderstood anything, feel free to tell me and I’ll try again when I got the time.

Anyway, hope you enjoy!

Yae Miko

While most people would dream of not having to interact with rude people in their day to day lives, Yae couldn’t help but feel somewhat conflicted about everyone being on their best behaviour around her, trying their best to either suck up to her or blend into the background and be overlooked by the Guuji, terrified of what would happen if they weren’t. That being said, turning the table on people thinking it would be a good idea to be rude to her was far more enjoyable than her usual toying around with people. Seeing their faces change as she dismantled their confidence was already far more worth to her than gold could ever be.

So when she walked through the streets of Inazuma one day, only to spot you trying your best to act normal when there was a stranger being rude to you, Yae didn’t even have to think twice about intervening, and while her primary motivation was to help you out, it would have been a lie for her to deny that she wasn’t excited about the prospect of finally getting to deal with a rude person again.

While having another person be rude at you for no reason was something you could live without, what happened after Yae turned up to the scene, almost startling you as much as the other person with her sudden appearance, somehow was even worse to witness. Sure, while there might have been a part of you somewhat happy at seeing someone acting so ill-mannered to you, you gradually lost the feeling of witnessing someone’s comeuppance, when you realised that Yae seemed to enjoy this a bit too much, even for her standards.

By the time you had managed to convince Yae to stop, most of the people around you silently looked at the three of you from a distance, no one being brave enough to interfere or even say a word as they saw their fellow citizen’s ego getting dismantled piece by piece, until not even you felt anything but pity towards them, the Guuji finally letting them leave as you couldn’t help but follow the shell of a former human with your eyes.

“W-What did you do?”, you couldn’t help but ask out loud, only to regret it just a split second later, suddenly fearing that she might still be in the mood for doing what she just did to another person.

“It’s called: ‘standing up for someone’, something I have to do for you if you don’t know how to do it yourself. I don’t even want to imagine what plans people would come up with when they saw that they could get away with treating the Guuji’s partner like a punching bag”, Yae responded in an amused tone, almost seeming like a completely other person than just a few moments ago.

“I know. But did you have to do this so… I mean, couldn’t you have done this less-”, you tried to finish your sentence, only for Yae to quickly interrupt you with a small chuckle.

“What? Jealous?”, she teased, either in an attempt to surprise and confuse you, or to cut you off and move on to a different subject. Though, since it was the Yae Miko you were talking about, it was very likely that it was a weird combination of both.

Either way, she turned out successful, as the silence that followed only ended when Yae signalled you to follow her before starting a different conversation.

Jean

Luckily for Jean, she didn’t have to deal with rude people in her day to day life, most knights and citizens on Mondstadt holding her in such a high regard that they’d probably chase anyone talking ill about her out of the city themselves, and while the negotiations with the Fatui she had to attend from time to time weren’t the most pleasant and often got plagued with passive aggressive remarks from either side, they weren’t outride rude.

That being said, the same could not be said about the other knights’ situation. And while there weren’t many that had ill feelings towards them, Mondstadt had a well-deserved reputation as a nation with a love for alcoholic beverages, and if there was one thing that had the potential to turn people’s normal behaviour into rude one, it was just that. Alcohol.

As Jean looked over the aftermath of yet another of Mondstadt’s popular festivals, with the sound of people celebrating still lurking in the background and the stench of all the consumed alcohol filling the air, she couldn’t help but feel somewhat lucky about not having decided to patrol the streets during the height of the celebrations, knowing all too well that looking over a crowd of drinking people could be very difficult at times. That being said, there was also a lot of guilt being felt about having others do such a demanding job, when all she had to do was fill out yet another mountain of paperwork in her office, especially once she spotted what looked like a knight having to deal with one of the remaining attendees, not sober enough to act polite while being too drunk to care. And while Jean already made her way over, she caught herself picking up pace when she realised that the knight in question was none other than you.

“I know that there just was a big festival and a lot to drink, but that is no reason to act so rude towards anyone, especially a Knight of Favonius”, Jean made her presence known, only for the drunk almost snap at her in response.

“And who are you to- Oh, Acting Grandmaster Jean… I’m sorry, I… didn’t notice it was you”, they were—relatively—quick to apologise, Jean immediately following up.

“Is there a problem I can help with, or is everything cleared up now?”, she asked before glancing towards you, only for the other person to follow her look and do the same.

“They were simply asking for direction, so there’s no need for you to do anything, acting Grandmaster”, you lied, simply wanting for this situation to end as quickly as possible as you could honestly feel yourself growing exhausted from today’s work, the drunk person quickly using the opportunity to play along and make their way out of there.

“I’m sorry for having you and the others put up with all of this, I wish I could have helped, but there was a lot of paperwork for me to do”, the acting Grandmaster apologised, only for you to quickly shake your head.

“Don’t worry, it’s fine. Although I have to admit that this is job a bit exhausting”, you assured her before letting out a small yawn. “I actually planned on inviting you for a drink afterwards, but seeing as I reckon that most people still there probably had one too many glasses to drink, I suddenly don’t feel like going anymore”, you half-joked, only for Jean to shoot you a small smile.

“I would say you did enough today, lets tell the others and then go home.”

//Please consider liking and reblogging if you liked this post

[cq-studios]

THE WIP LIST IS BACK!! Tell me more about Broadcasting Live From Daybreak Town? That sounds like it's probably an entertaining one, haha.

(For this)

YEAH!! WIP LIST!!

Would you believe me if I said it’s angst? lol

So, I love taking a pieces of the Daybreak Town backgrounds and just making a whole fics about them. I’ve done it with the Marketplace, I’m gonna do it with the Moogle Shop, and this one is specifically about the radios.

The original idea was a radio broadcast from a local station (run by an unhappy conspiracy driven Dandelion) right when the glitches started to get bad. It’s kind of evolved into a Brain and Ven centric fic where Brain has to not only deal with his own anxieties, but also needs to help Ven process that some people are just determined to blame them for things that aren’t their fault because of their position (something I discovered while writing this post… thank you for helping me figure that out, you’re gonna solve my whole block for this fic lol).

Snippet under the cut

Disclaimer: This is a WIP. All things are subject to change

“As our home gets overrun by flashing colours and ghosts from a time passed, the Union Leaders remain ever silent. I’m sure the question of whether or not they know what exactly is going on has crossed each of our minds at some point over the course of this strange day. And the Union Leaders seem uninterested in our pursuit of answers, keeping themselves locked up in the Clocktower, turning everyone who approaches them away for something of supposedly higher importance. Could they be trying to fix this problem, or could it be that they are the ones causing it.” Brain stopped typing. His teeth ground against each other. “Their refusal to give us an-”

“Ven, turn the radio off,” he barked, not watching his tone.

 I have more important things to focus on. I can’t let myself be distracted by conspiracies on the radio.

“The Union Leaders have…” There was a moment of hesitation before Ven placed his finger on the button. Suddenly the radio’s volume peaked. “abandoned, abandoned, abandoned, abandoned-” the word repeated, each delivery the same as the last, but slightly distorted, wrong. 

Ven jumped backwards and nearly out of his skin, hands swiftly covering his ears. The younger wielder shot Brain a wide eyed look just as the whole broadcast drowned in static.

They both knew what had happened, but that didn’t make the event any less startling. The host and their crew must have been caught in a glitch.

Brain winced at the thought, his mind flashing back to the moment a glitch had appeared over his hand.

At first it had just fallen asleep. Then the pins and needles gradually sharpened, digging deeper and deeper, pressing harder and harder, until…

The static from the radio died down and he was free to hear the startled and disgruntled noises of the announcer and the crew as they reoriented themselves. Then, “I can’t feel anything! I can’t feel-”

The sensation in his hand still hadn’t returned.

“Ven!”

“Sorry,” almost immediately this time, the younger wielder pressed the button. The room fell almost entirely quiet.

Brain welcomed the less distressing sounds of the Clocktower. The familiar repetitive clunking and clicking of the gears turning below him. The rhythmic knocking of Ven’s feet hitting the table’s leg. The faint buzzing of the screens…

Or maybe that was from the portal.

At the reminder, his attention drifted over to the portal. It flickered and swayed, looking unstable as ever. 

He made his way over to one of the smaller computer setups, and, with a few swift clacks of the keys, he’d typed in the command ‘Portal Status’. Enter. 

Almost hesitantly, his eyes shifted to the display.

<Stable>Good. He let out the breath he didn’t know he was holding. It had to stay that way. Otherwise Ephemer and his friend wouldn't have a way back, and that’d be creating a whole new problem he wasn’t sure they’d have time to fix.

[anisecandy]

Colors of you, colors of me

Summary: He was processing this as hatred, because it was too complex to be called anything else. “Hatred” was what they were feeling for Peter from the moment the two of them joined together. It was impossible to try and rename it without ending up with questions it could feel Eddie really, really not wanting to ask himself, let alone answer.

Which was why he always looked away in the end

Rating: G

Words count: 2,5k

Genre: The study of feelings(??)

Parings: Peter Parker/Eddie Brock/Venom Symbiote, Eddie Brock/Venom Symbiote

Author's note:

Me: Ugh, I wish I could write a fic with just descriptions of feelings and weather… :( Me: Me: Waaaaaaaaaait a minute-

(link to the work on ao3)

The Symbiote wasn’t very observant.

Well… That wasn’t entirely true. The sensitivity of its receptors significantly surpassed that of most Earth’s creatures. As such, it would be more accurate to say that it wasn’t very observant specifically when it came to small, gradual changes, to which human emotions were prone to. Its mind just wasn’t wired for it. It was able to spot a bird taking a flight from a tree branch in the Central Park while looking out of a window a whole five storeys up. The smell of blood reached it from a mile away. The subtleties of the human psyche, though, tended to elude it.

Not that it was completely oblivious to it, not by any means. But the nuances did escape it quite often. There were many reasons for that - the first and most obvious of the being that such complexity was foreign to its relatively straightforward nature. The more layered and sophisticated emotions were something it acquired through its numerous hosts and not an innate element of its own thinking. Its meek personality didn’t do it any favors in that regard either. While it monitored the inner life of its hosts with great commitment, it didn’t tend to question it beyond the surface level, readily believing whatever it was assured about it. Even if it contradicted its own conclusions.

Although, to be honest, the surface level wasn’t always straightforward either. Not with Eddie, at least. Not when it came to this type of changes - those that arrived overlooked by it. It supposed it would notice them right away with Flash, for example, or Mac. With them, feelings like this were accompanied by the sharp, intoxicating taste of hormones. It was an obvious tell. But that wasn’t how Eddie worked. Save for the bitter yet refreshing spikes of adrenaline, the taste buzzing in his blood and soaking through his brain matter changed gradually. They flew and shimmered, often less intense than in other of its hosts, missing certain brands of flavors entirely. And so, it didn’t notice.

Until it did, and then it was impossible to look past.

What caused everything to finally click for it, wasn’t some big moment. Those happened once in a while, cluing it into Eddie's emotions, but not this time. It simply started to recognize a pattern. Or maybe that was too strong of a word. Something closer to a habit, maybe. Uneven and unsure routine, that couldn’t be set in motion at any time of day, anywhere. That could be omitted for an entire week, only to play out exactly the same few times in a row.

But that made sense, it supposed. After all, those days it was only by accident that they ever caught a glimpse of Peter.

New York was a huge city. And they usually tried to stay out of each other’s ways, perhaps more by instinct than out of a conscious decision. There were exceptions to that, involving some major players, like Kasady. But otherwise, they didn’t seek each other’s company. Which, for the Symbiote, was a good thing. Peter was like a flame, like a whole conflagration. Larger than life, beautiful and vibrant. Painful to be around. Still, it wasn’t like they could avoid him. Not really. This was his city, no matter what some of its citizens and other heroes thought about it. His “neighborhood”, for better or for worse. More often than not, he was just a smudge in the air, somewhere among the buildings. Impossible to catch with an eye, let alone put a hand on. At times though, when it was a slow day, or when they happened to be just a few feets away, he appeared more corporal. Like an actual person with a body that would be heavy in your grip, that would leave traces of heat behind. And then, Eddie’s gaze lingered.

He didn’t stare. And he certainly didn’t call out to Peter, or tried to get his attention any other way. He hardly acknowledged seeing him at all, unless Peter desperately needed an assist and numerous lives were in danger. But he didn’t look away immediately either.

There was something… intangible about the way Eddie looked at its first Earth host. It couldn’t quite put a pseudopod on it. Just like the ever changing sky that placed the red and blue of Peter’s suit in a kaleidoscope of colors each time he caught their eyes, the feeling also changed. It always brought ache to their chest, but humans knew so many kinds of ache. The dull throbbing of guilt, the restless, yet muffled burning of suppressed jealousy. Of anger, that should and shouldn’t be there. A specific type of hollowness, of being unfinished. Or perhaps, “emptied” would be a better word for that. Like a wound with jagged edges, around a cavity with something ripped out of it. And then, around it, similar to vegetation finding rich soil in the warmth of ashes, formed other feelings. Fuzzy and too suppressed to be anything more than half-realized.

That’s why, at first it didn’t even notice there being a pattern. And even when it did, it couldn’t tell what it meant. Eddie, when it inquired about it, didn’t even understand what it was asking. It supposed he wasn’t fully aware of doing this himself. This was another confusing element of the human psyche - feeling without knowing. Needing without wanting.

Still, it wished to understand. In the past, it would leave this be, with a shrug of metaphorical shoulders. But by now it knew how much damage unchecked feelings left to fester could cause, pushed to the back of the mind. Although… it didn’t really think those were one of the dangerous type. Even if they hurt. At this point, it honestly started to suspect this was just how Eddie’s brain was building all of his emotions - on a sturdy foundation of ache. Even so, there was softness there. The complicated kind of it, the one Eddie paired with big, important sounding words and small, actually important gestures. But it was so messy, so chaotic and confusing, to the point it had no idea where to even begin decoding it all.

So instead of focusing on what Eddie was feeling, it shifted its attention to what Eddie was doing. Or more specifically, to how he was doing it. How he looked at Peter, in those blink-and-you-missed-it seconds of being captivated. How, for a minute or even less, there was a bitter aftertaste to his thoughts once it passed. How his eyelids dropped shamefully and how his brows furrowed with irritation. It always ended in a scowl. But in the moment, before he could catch himself, it felt like being pulled in by a painting, too vivid to ignore. Something abstract, maybe. Gaudy and ostentatious, yet resonating in a way that made the heart clench.

They didn’t look much at art nowadays, but it knew Eddie had a soft spot for it. Came with being a writer, it supposed. You had to see the world as something worthy of description. Maybe something beautiful, even. At times. Which, in a way, was important. When you’re out in the gutter, it can be a bit comforting to be able to find something positive about the rain hoping to drench your clothes and give you influenza. At least it fitted the decorum. Dramatism and pathos slipped their way in. Poetry too.

He looked at Peter as if he was writing poetry.

Sometimes, it was so apparent that it could sense disconnected words drifting on the surface of his mind for hours afterward. Sometimes, it was nothing more than a sensation, silent and abrupt. Usually, it was about light.

It painted Peter in hundreds of hues. The blues changed into shades of gray, the red turned orange or purple. Eddie hated most of them. He hated the way the sunset drenched him in glow, making eyes water just from one glance. He hated soft mornings laying on the surface of his costume like a dew, betraying the stitches adorning each inch of it, desperately trying to hold the tattered fabric together. He hated the misty, lethargic strands of moon’s shine, causing him to look like a shaky reflection on a lake. And he especially hated the suffocating monochrome of rainfalls, when the shadows soaked deep into the contour of his silhouette, making the bright colors standoffish and their wearer, unnaturally slender and out of place. 

For some reason, he liked the bright white of dawns after a blizzard. Snow had a way of making everything appear sharp and clear, with no space for understatements. But then again, the lack of gray areas did flatten things a bit. Either way, those seldom happened. New York wasn’t exactly known for its unrelenting cold climate. Most of the time all it could offer was a cacophony of muddy and bright. 

Given that, one would expect that the moments painted over the background of snow were special in some way. Yet, when put side by side with all the others, they fit right in. Like a piece of a puzzle, not even a central one at that. Even though at first glance those feelings were so different, in the end, they all have the same, almost too soft to notice taste. Which didn't really make much sense, until it tried to change its perspective.

Maybe it wasn't that Eddie felt hatred. Maybe he just hated what he felt.

Or maybe he just hated himself. That would be too out of ordinary.

Either way... Once that layer got stripped away, the Symbiote was left with... What, exactly? What was it that flew through all the pictures of shimmering skies, like a heavy drop of paint carelessly marking an unrolled camera film? Was it hatred, still? Perhaps in the end it was. A black, thick coat of hatred, dirtying everything in its way, impossible to wash off. But, following this shape of thought, it didn't feel like pure, rich black anymore. If anything, it was muddy. A huge mess of colors, mixed together, bleeding into each other to create an indescribable, off putting shade. It stood out like a disgusting stain against the vivid reds and blues.

And despite the absurdity of this idea, the Symbiote wondered to itself. Just a little. Quietly. If maybe that was why Eddie never looked at Peter too long. Why he glanced away, firmly stopping his eyes from wandering, and latching on and taking in. On the inside Peter would get dirty. But, once again, those were just "figures of speech". Not something that had an actual bearing on reality. Although... It wouldn't be unlike Eddie to forget about it. Sometimes, he focused too much on the exact words. On the aesthetic of it all. He had this tendency to not let things just... Be. Half-finished, in shades of gray and uncertainty. They always had to get overblown into something special, uncompromising and larger than life. It was always either a hero or a monster. Nothing in between. Only the extremes. The innocent and the sinners. Black and white. Hatred and...

The problem was that the world at large didn’t work like this. Not even Eddie himself worked like this. You couldn’t just draw a big line separating it all into two neat categories and then proceed to either exaggerate or ignore things until they fit the criteria to be segregated. Humans were too complicated for that. More than it expected them to be and more than Eddie wanted them to be. It was a hard lesson for the both, but they were better for learning it. Even if it took time- Even if it was still taking time, as a work in progress, honestly. But it was good to realize that there were more than those to fight and those to protect. That aside from the utmost animosity and undying devotion there was also a place for… friendships, for example. Simple as that. Astounding as that.

In the back of its mind it sometimes thought that Eddie was having much harder time grasping this than it did. Which, considering its inhuman nature, was perhaps a little concerning.

It understood, for one, that it could love Eddie one way and Flash another way. And that it could at the same time trust Ms. Allen and be jealous of her. And most importantly, that it could look up to Peter, while still feeling betrayed by him. On some nebulous level Eddie perhaps understood that too - but it was the kind of understanding it held for the idea of enjoying sparklers and fireworks. Just because it was true, didn’t mean it felt as such.

He was processing this as hatred, because it was too complex to be called anything else. “Hatred” was what they were feeling for Peter from the moment the two of them joined together. It was impossible to try and rename it without ending up with questions it could feel Eddie really, really didn’t want to ask himself, let alone answer.

Which was why he always looked away in the end.

You could try talking to him, it suggested once, just once.

It could tell he wanted to pretend he didn’t know what it was talking about. He couldn’t, of course. Along with its words, it poured over him the whole vat of its observations, and thoughts, and conclusions. They couldn’t not understand each other. Not with its tendrils tangled around Eddie’s neurons like sinker roots.

“And? What would I tell him?” he replied then, with bubbles of frustration, that it knew wasn’t directed at it, making his chest tense.

The Symbiote knew what it could tell Peter. It could tell him about stars. And about the vast, ice cold abyss between them, that froze all the atoms of your body. It could tell him about finding a fire at the very edge of the universe. And about missing the warm up so badly, that you end up throwing yourself into it. About scars that don’t heal, because maybe you don’t want them to heal.

It would tell him about loving a flame.

But that wasn’t what he should hear from Eddie.

So it didn’t reply.

If that’s what Eddie wanted, or maybe rather, if that was all he could bring himself to, they could watch from afar. Perhaps for the time being, that would be the best solution. At least, until he won’t learn to see the reds and blues in shades of purples, pinks and oranges. Until he won’t be able to look at the rainfalls without his heart aching with guilt.

And until the blacks and white won’t turn to grays.

Autor's note: Also, everybody who caught on to me alluding to Eddie being on ace spectrum gets a cookie 🍪

[tutuandscoot]

Favourite Photo Series

Part 3:

📍SCI 2017 FD Practice

What I love about this picture is it’s a snapshot of a really lovely moment in time, I.. surprise surprise (probably) have a very different take on then maybe most would. There’s a lot of emotion in this one still photo but I find it it’s entirety to be even more poignant.

To help explain this I’m gonna use some gifs and talk more generally about this whole moment because it’s all important in relating back to this one moment in the photo.

So during their run through of MR, they break just before where they would start their step sequence. S throws T’s arm and lets her skate away in place of the first step in the sequence. This is quite common-in other practices, whether they are breaking at this moment or others, to do a bit of a ‘flourish’ as they finish the section they have just practiced.

The camera angle then changes to the left side of the rink and they catch up to each other. Where they would usually hold hands and continue skating around, T holds out her hand thinking he is going to take it (either in dance hold or more likely their hand hold) but instead he grabs her wrist quite ‘aggressively’ - not hard or in a way that would hurt her- but.. and this is the important part for me, does it in character.

He then slides his hand round her back to her side in their little side-hug position and so gently caresses her in such a comforting and affectionate way. He drops his head and after the second one T looks to him, in a way I interpreted as her asking him, ‘hey, what’s the matter/you alright?’. He his stays dropped and he’s kinda slumped over as he pats her back (YES her back don’t make this into something it’s not) and his hand falls into hers and they continue stroking round holding hands.

As they reach the back of the rink to start their short diagonal, the music is becoming louder and more dramatic, they let go of hands and Scott quite obviously starts to get himself worked up emotionally, then gradually physically to go into the next moment of chore. He mimes burying his head in his hands and silently screams along with the vocals in the music before he, again, aggressively grabs T’s wrist and kicks furiously as she drops into her lunge.

This post is another shrine to Scott and his acting abilities. I’ve talked about it many times I think, and I certainly still have more to say.

I can’t say what others thought/ think of this moment- specifically the little hug moment. I assume many thoughts were it’s a very sweet moment and I’m sure there were some creeps who thought he took and opportunity to ‘feel her up’.

What my thoughts were the very first time and quite frankly still, is as they met up to hold hands again, Scott was still in his character and grabbed her as such. T wasn’t expecting it, but at the same time wasn’t phased at all. He often has ‘random moments’ that she is never phased by and knows it’s just him being so passionate and getting to *play - [*explore movement and their story] with her. What she maybe wasn’t expecting, after realising he is still somewhat in character, for him to then wrap his arm around her in a hug and caress her..

He’s kinda saying to her in that moment (physically) ‘I’m sorry I hurt you, I didn’t want to, I’m gonna hurt you again in a moment (the next bit of chore), but you’re gonna be ok, we’re gonna be ok’- apologising on behalf of his characters actions’. He’s mentally still within his character, as himself he is kinda making sure she’s ok. She looks to him as if to say, ‘what do you mean, of course I’m ok’, or as I said before, simply ‘what’s the matter?’.

It’s weird I know, I’ve re writing this so many times to try and make sense of my thoughts, but that’s what I got from this, that’s how I read it. Because he grabs her then immediately after that becomes this soft and gentle moment physically while still kinda refusing to look at her. I see it as like this split between just himself and his character. I talked about this recently and as I always stress I have no definitive confirmation of any of this other then jumping off what they themselves say about their process and the kind of people/athletes/artists they are both together and individually. It’s not necessarily method acting (it’s not, he’s said that) but I think he likes to, once he gave himself the permission to, and knowing T encouraged it, exist in and explore those characters on a deeper level- and not just strictly confined to doing chore, and not strictly together on the same level- they may be deeper in it then the other at times like this for example. The way I read it is that T just seems more relaxed and quietly strokes round to the next section, where as S, in one of his random moments, interacts with her more so in the physicality of his character, but because it’s him and it’s them, at the same time exists this beautiful moment of comfort and, kind of apology.. I don’t quite think it’s that , I just can’t find the right word for it. That little pat just had this feeling of.. it’s like they just had a whole conversation in those 3 seconds, silently, without words and it ends with this pat of ‘alright, that’s my girl’ coz he knows she’s ok, as they continue on just like normal, completely aware of everything and their understanding of where each other is- mentally, physically, what they are thinking about.

I hope this doesn’t sound like an over reaction or anything. OF course she’s ok, OF COURSE he isn’t hurting her. It’s just what this moment on such a subtle level screams to me, I immediately saw it and thought how beautiful it was that they were having one of these moments, that he was checking in with her but they were still staying so quiet and within their story, and his physically to her was maybe a little unexpected in that moment because she doesn’t need him to “apologise” for anything, but it was just so moving thinking that’s maybe what it was. Whatever prompted that little moment, then get ready for the next section and- specifically S, what I feel supports this whole rant is the way he gets himself worked up emotionally again- that gradual transition into then somewhat out of, then fully back into character again. I would give anything to be able to talk to them and get them to explain their process. It’s more fascinating then anything else and because of their trust and connection and history it’s amplified to such an intimate level of understanding.

It’s not showy, it’s not performative, it’s for them and their process in a deeply honest way of understanding their characters and their story. It’s not copy paste the same expressions from another program, it’s all so essential to the story they are telling in the moment.

This still picture seems like just another one of their supportive moment, but the moving picture behind it I think tells so much more.

When T posted this picture she had the caption ‘I’ve got your back’ on it. She loves her tongue-in-cheek captions and quite literally he was holding her round her back. But pairing this with what was happening either side of this picture, it has double meaning in that she has his back- she encourages him to feel comfortable in exploring his characters. I don’t say that to make S seem weaker than T in this respect, I only say it because it’s exactly what S said and that it gives him so much strength to know what she loves and wants from him. I’m sure he did the same for her at a time or twenty- what ever she needed encouragement with he gave it to her, he was there for her unquestionably.

So the result of all that is it creates a moment of visually, he has her back, but in so many other invisible way she has his. They have each other’s backs. That’s what makes this image so beautiful.

(I hope I’ve said enough times throughout this that this is purely my interpretation of the moment and without being there or hearing them I don’t know anything for sure and this is based off what evidence of that they have said previously and do both in this moment and many others and there’s a common thread of how I interpret their artistry and interactions in this respect. It is the very nature of what they do to interpret it in an artistic way removed from any larger presumptions. An inconsequential moment where it could’ve had any number of meanings for them or simply none at all).

[pixiemage]

54 got the writer ask game?

[For the Writer Ask Meme]

54. Favorite first line/opening you’ve written?

Oh gosh hah...picking favorites is always hard for me! I change up my openings depending on the story. Sometimes it's a slow build of the environment in an external sense, like a film, where we're slowly treated with nuggets of context for the setting...sometimes the build is internal, entirely focussed on a character's emotions and physical sensations and thoughts. Sometimes I jump right into the middle of an action sequence and sometimes I cut right to the chase with dialogue...and sometimes I like to mislead by starting with something climactic that turns out to be something silly.

A few specific openers have always stuck with me. (Under the cut to save peoples' dashboards pfft)

One is from a one-off Wreck-It Ralph fic I did a few years back:

A lone figure paced the throne room, his pompom-tipped royal slippers padding softly against the sugar-glazed tiles. His frilly and colorful appearance stood as a stark contrast to the dark irritation brewing beneath his regal clothing and glittering crown. Turbo scowled and scratched at a spot along his frilly collar. An itch had settled just below the surface, his skin crawling and his very code making him feel jittery. Off. Irritated. Itchy. With an annoyed and grumbled huff, he gave up pacing on his next about-turn and dropped onto his (not really his) throne in an undignified and slouched heap. What was this? What was happening to him? (...)

But more recently, I've QUITE proud of how Through a Crack in the Void began. I never really had a plan for the full story there, but the opening scene is one that was painted vividly in my head even before I got the chance to sit down and write it out:

His heart was pounding, his back was aching, and his skull felt as though it might split in two. The void screamed in silence around him and though his wings cried out for some sort of relief - forced to fly while bearing a deep-seated, aching kind of pain that felt as though he had been flying for hours - the skin of his face still burned, the sting as fresh as the moment he had forcibly ripped his mask from his own face. It wasn’t meant to be irremovable. It wasn’t meant to be a prison. It wasn’t meant to be like this. It was just his luck that the godlike beings who had taken him into their care weren’t like the benevolent deities he had first met, weren’t like the curious and clever and somewhat playful individuals who had kept watch over Evo. Watchers weren’t meant to be unnecessarily cruel, or so he thought, but the ones who had taken Grian weren’t like their brethren. Grian just hadn’t realized it until it was too late. (...)

They're two very different types of openers. The first is that gradual environmental build, and the second just jumps RIGHT in with context getting picked up along the way. But good god do I love 'em both. Sometimes the openers end up being easier than the rest of the chapter xD

[mixedfeelings717]

Honey Blonde

March 2020. Toronto.

I sat in the chair of a swanky salon in Yorkville, assuring my hairdresser that I was ready for this. I’m going back to the dark side. I’ve been blond for over a decade, ever since my high school boyfriend told me I’d look better ‘light’. I bleached and highlighted my natural black hair into a perfect shade of honey-blond. Don’t get me wrong, I liked how I looked. They say that going blond is every Asian girl’s right of passage. A villain era or an “I want to party carelessly and have no plans for the future” era in my case. The high school boyfriend was long gone, but the blond hair stayed. It stayed through many more boyfriends. But it also stayed through 4 years of university, at a program I had no interest in. It stayed through the drama and gossip of my sorority, the death of all four of my grandparents and the biggest depression of my life. The blond was both my armour and my sword. I chose to present the easygoing, flirty, sexy side of me to the world, so the real me could stay hidden. The roots gave me away. My natural hair stayed its course. Stable. Unbothered. It made its way to the surface every month like clockwork. The jet-black was never really gone. It may have been bleached and toned, blowdried and curled, but it never left. And now… it was screaming for air. I couldn’t stay blond for another day. There wasn’t a specific event that triggered the appointment. Rather, a gradual buildup of growth and transformation. I outgrew and outpartied my college friends. I found my true calling in psychology and I finally started writing again. I wasn’t going to bleach any more parts of myself. I realized the hairdresser had already coloured most of my hair. I looked at myself in the mirror. It was like meeting your online friend. Oddly familiar with a dash of distance. The jet-black changed my aura, my vibe, if you will. It was intense, striking, almost… It was me. I had a brief moment of regret. Did I just make a mistake? Am I not pretty anymore? I can colour it back anytime. Immediately, I felt a pinch of guilt. Saying goodbye to someone you knew for over a decade. Meeting someone you’ve long lost touch with. Mixed Feelings. And I’m not talking about hair anymore…

Credit: https://www.tumblr.com/hauteavocation/743813730173911040

Credit: Amy Winehouse

[the-somewhat-rambling-reviewer]

Compare and Contrast Cherry Magic (Japan) and Ep 1 Cherry Magic (Thailand)

I hope Achi’s ‘clumsiness’, like Adachi’s, is largely phased out after the first episode.

I’m not sure if I’m going to be able to explain this properly, but one thing I found interesting is: Both Adachi and Achi are in a rut and resigned to it, but I think it bothers Achi more than it did Adachi. I don’t think Adachi really wanted more until he started to realise having more was actually maybe an option, whereas, Achi does want more, but he doesn’t believe having more is an option.

When it comes to Kurosawa and Karan, Karan being subtly burnt out was shown right away, whereas, Kurosawa’s loneliness and bouts of sadness along with the struggles he’s faced were gradually revealed.

On another note, Karan and Achi have much more of a relationship already. I don’t have a problem with this, but one thing I preferred about the Japanese version is: Adachi genuinely didn’t pay much attention at all to Kurosawa before he found out Kurosawa liked him. It was like, yeah, there’s Kurosawa, the popular office guy, and that was it. Even with him helping a drunk Kurosawa, I never got the impression that incident, in contrast to how life-changing it was to Kurosawa, made much of an impact on him. Yeah, I helped a drunk coworker once, it was nice to see even the popular can have down moments, I don’t really remember the specifics beyond this of that night.  

Here, Achi is a little jealous of Karan. He wants to be more like him. He holds Karan up as something he himself should be.  

Adachi, meanwhile, I think he would have liked to be more like Kurosawa, but he didn’t really dwell on this feeling, and he especially didn’t dwell on Kurosawa as a person until he started to learn, oh, this guy who’s everything I’m not, it turns out I have a really incomplete picture of who he really is and what he’s really like beyond what everyone, including me, has seen.

Sidenote, I don’t know if Karan is going to be a teasing character like Kurosawa or not. In the original, seeing sunshine-y Kurosawa teasing Adachi, and Adachi being all silently I really cannot deal with you right now was fun. Here, Karan’s suggestion they take the stairs had a genuine sweetness to it. It was like, okay, I have a solution that might help make you more comfortable, and bonus, it’d have me and you spending some time alone together.

I felt the quickly suppressed sadness and disappointment from him when Achi quickly rejected his offer. I’d say to Achi’s credit, Achi didn’t go, huh, taking the stairs would be good for me, but you don’t need to join me, bye, but I suspect it’s more that, like adult me (kid me loved stairs), Achi is not taking the stairs unless he actually needs to for some reason.  

When it comes to Adachi and Tsuge and Achi and Jinta, again, I’m not sure if I’m going to explain this properly or not, but: Until the movie, I never saw much enjoyment between Adachi and Tsuge, but this doesn’t mean I thought they had a bad friendship. They struck me as two people who had a strong emotional connection, and due to this, they’d meet for dinner or drinks occasionally just to keep up with one another so that, when one of them needed emotional support, it wasn’t weird to call or text at like 3 am or something.

Jinta and Adachi, on the other hand, seem more like conventional friends who genuinely enjoy one another’s company. Their food fight was adorable.

I’m not good at recognising most animal behaviour, but even I know that the way that cat was panting was not good, just like I knew Pobjer from Don’t Say No was not happy or interested in any of the actors handling her (assuming the cat actor was female like the character).

This said, like many of the takes I’ve read, I do love how the connection between Jinta and his love interest is being fleshed out via the cat. But since I was pretty meh on Tsuge/Minato, I might be on Jinta and this guy, too.

Sing Harit Cheewagaroon is an impressive actor. To date, my favourite role of his is Todd from Not Me, but I like him here as Rokkaku’s counterpart.

The fact Karan choose Achi’s cake but didn’t show up for the party is cute. Him spending a month researching in the hopes of finding a great cake, and then, being, me and him aren’t actually friends, and he’s somewhat shy/socially awkward, I want him to being completely comfortable and enjoy his birthday celebration, here, friends of Achi’s, here’s a cake, don’t mention it came from me, thanks- adorable.

I saw the perfect take that encapsuled what I felt about Achi being sent, on his birthday, to give cake to someone who wasn’t even part of the celebration. Namely, I was all, What? Seriously?

Followed by the realisation it could be his friends pinging Karan’s crush and lowkey shipping the two.

If so, aw.

One thing that kind of worked and kind of didn’t is: In the original, I wondered why Adachi didn’t get a cab. Here, he tried, and he probably could have eventually gotten one, but it was also clear he was unlikely to get one anytime soon.

In the original, I don’t want to say bullied, but Kurosawa was more okay, you’re staying with me tonight, and Adachi sort of ended up in front of the apartment mentally going, how exactly did I end up here?

Here, this vibe didn’t exactly happen.

Like many, I’m disappointed we may not get an aroace character, but I’m not surprised. It’s too bad. Fujisaki was an awesome character, and it was nice to see a sweet, somewhat playful, competent aroace character who clearly had genuine emotional connections with other people. She wasn’t cold or misanthropic or traumatised. She didn’t want or need a romantic relationship to be happy, ditto a sexual one, and her friendship with Adachi and Kurosawa was awesome. Recognising they’d be happy together, she helped them get there, and neither ever thought anything was wrong with her.

Adachi was willing to be her beard, if she wanted him to, and they both supported her following her career goals.

Finally, I’m likely in the minority here, but I did not like Karan’s smirk at the end. Since I know the original and probably wouldn’t believe the show would go a certain way even if I didn’t know the original, I can put my kneejerk reaction aside, but whatever exactly Tay Tawan Vihokratana was going for, and whatever so many people got that they liked, I went somewhere different upon seeing that expression.    

[spilledkauffie]

The Bad Batch x Pregnant!Reader HCs

Individually x Female!Reader || pure fluff ✨☁️✨

no Crosshair in this one; it’s a personal HC that he’s not down with having kids, so I won’t be writing him in this situation :)

↳ m a i n m a s t e r l i s t

Echo ↴

When you told him — it’s a little bit of a surprise. You two had talked about definitely wanting kids and being parents together, but Echo was never sure it was a possibility. He worries that the experimentations on him might’ve changed some things to make it impossible for the two of you, but he was proved wrong when you showed up with a positive. / “wait- really?” Echo asks with a smile already growing. / “yeah! Isn’t that- are you happy?” You suddenly worry. / “Of course!” He reassured you, taking you in his arms, “I just wasn’t sure I had it in me,” he blushes immediately after he admits it. / You smile wide and kiss him, “well you did it, I’m officially carrying Echo 2.0,” you giggle. / “we are not naming them Echo,” he chuckles, “can you imagine: Echo?” He tries to imitate Hunter, “yes? Yes?“ / You both laugh before just spending a little time together cuddling and taking in the moment.

Wants to document everything — Echo really wants to have memories to look back on, and that means not missing an opportunity to take a holo-photo or video. Every stage of the trimester he wants a picture of your tummy so that when the pregnancy is over you can look back and see the baby bump get bigger gradually. Of course, you tell him "only the tummy, don't get my face, Echo...," but he always takes a full picture. / When you tell him that you can feel the baby moving he immediately grabs his datapad with all the pictures and videos so he can record it. However, when you ask him if he wants to feel, he pauses for a moment trying to figure out how he'll still be able to record it if his hand is on your tummy. / You giggle at his contemplating expression, "I'll take it, Love," you reach out for the datapad and Echo blushes a little. / "Right, thanks," he chuckles, scootching a little closer to you and softly placing his hand on you. / You begin to understand why he wants to document everything the moment you see his face light up at feeling a little kick against his hand.

Learns to keep up with the mood changes — you’re not used to having this kind of boost in your emotions, so at first, you talk it out with Echo, explaining how you don’t feel like yourself, you feel annoying, and it kind of worries you. He helps to remind you that right now your body is going through something really incredible and really taxing on you, and it’s okay to feel a little lost and overwhelmed in it all. He’s there to work through it all with you, holding your hand or giving you space, whichever you need in the moment. He doesn’t get offended if you’re a bit more grumpy or snappy than usual. Or if you’re more easily emotional, saddened, or clingy. Echo seriously takes it like a champ and helps to centre the both of you. // The hardest part is getting everyone else on the same page sometimes: There was one time Wrecker accidentally helped himself to your craving snack that Echo keeps stocked and when you found out it wasn’t pretty. / “I told you, if you’re not ready to challenge her, don’t steal her snacks, Wrecker,” Echo sighs, rolling his eyes, a smirk on his lips as he watches Wrecker walk away like a wounded puppy. / “yeah, but,” Wrecker sniffles, “she didn’t have to say that.”

Does some research, but goes off feeling — Echo is definitely the kind of guy to consult a "what to expect when expecting" book, but overall he wants to make sure that he's most attentive to you and what you're experiencing. He doesn't see pregnancy as a linear thing for everyone. Even if he doesn't know a lot about it, he knows it can be experienced differently, so you are the primary source. He always checks in with a very specific "how are you doing/feeling today?" style question at some point during the day. / He doesn’t do it in an annoying way though, he does it so he can keep a mental list of things that seemed to help and things that seemed to make it worse. That way if you respond with “my feet really hurt today” he remembers what helped last time (because he asked) and can suggest it. // However if you both have no idea of a good remedy or what something means, it’s back to the book.

Doesn't mind shopping for you — Echo has zero shame walking into a store or going to the planet’s local market at 2a.m. all because you were craving something. He doesn’t mind buying you more flowy outfits so you feel more comfortable as your baby bump gets bigger, and he absolutely will negotiate with a sales clerk to make sure you get the right one that you wanted.

Tech ↴

When you told him — he’s actually really excited! Most likely you’ve been trying for a while, because it’s not a surprise or shock. You two definitely planned to become parents, so when you tell him that you’re finally pregnant he’s really excited about it! He’s kind of speechless, until he blurts out, “that’s absolutely fantastic information!” and hugs you. He immediately begins trying to plan things out, and that means years in advance. When he tells you about it, you have to giggle, but you know that he’s just really excited about it and like to have things planned as much as possible. He’s also beyond ecstatic to have someone to teach, someone who will ask questions, etc.

Way out of his league for once — while he’s really happy about your pregnancy, he soon realises that he surprisingly doesn’t know much on the subject. Likewise, he realises that he won’t be able to experience it with you and he’ll be largely and observer of the situation. Which coming from the community of Kamino + having The Bad Batch, he’s not used to simply watching instead of being in the action equally. / So, Tech has a bit of a tough time adjusting to the situation especially when it gets to the more obvious stages (baby bump really showing) and the more difficult stages (pains / aches / sleepless nights). He wants to help, but feels kind of useless, especially when you say “it’s okay, it’ll pass in a second,” about pains or “you don’t have to get up, get some sleep, Honey” about sleepless nights. Something you’ve noticed is Tech tends to isolate, he’s working on the Marauder a lot more, or staying in his makeshift workshop where he can fix stuff. Even the other boys have noticed this change and try to figure out what’s going on. You figure it has something to do with him having to be on the sidelines more than he’s used to.

↳ when you make your way out to the Marauder, you find Tech tinkering with something or other in the driver’s chair. “Okay,” you announce yourself, drawing his attention, he spins around to see you, “what’s going on?” / “I think a more appropriate question would be what are you doing in here? I told you it’s an absolute minefield for dangerous potential in your condition,” he counters as you continue to manoeuvre the ship's mess to get to him. / “Well, maybe if you’d ever come out I wouldn’t have to come in,” you tilt your head, looking down at him slightly, now standing next to the chair. / Tech leans back into the seat, looking away, “fair, I suppose.” / “Come on, talk to me, what’s going on?” You casually try an coax him, “I know this is about the baby.” / “I’m just- I’m worried what if I make a mistake somewhere along the way,” you finally meet his golden eyes; there’s a signature wrinkle in the middle of his forehead indicating that he’s really worried, but before you can say anything, he places a gentle hand on your tummy, “this isn’t a simulation that you can simply start over or retry. And I just want to make sure I can get it right.” / “Oh, Tech,” you sigh, placing your arms around his shoulders. Sometimes you wish you could assure him that some mistakes in life aren’t as detrimental as they are on the battlefield, this was going to be a new dynamic for him, and there was plenty of room for little newbie mistakes.

The little things — since you want him to feel as involved as possible, you’ll give him little things to do, like figure out what the best kind of fruit are for pregnancy (even if you don’t really care, it’s something for him to do). Research is a big thing that he loves and you completely encourage him to give it a go on this subject as well. Of course, he comes back with some mad TMI details that even you aren’t sure you wanted to know about the process and potential outcomes, but he’s absolutely glowing at the fact that he now knows more about it. In the end he feels a lot more comfortable with the situation now that he can help.

Baby names — the man is prepared, he’s got a list within days. He’s got the original meaning, language, interpretations, variations etc. He throws some wild ones out there and it soon becomes something of a routine that before bed, you cuddle up, laying back against his chest as he sits up against the wall. He rests his chin on top of your head or shoulder and holds the list in front of you, just barely resting his hands against your baby bump. Occasionally while you’re thinking about one, he’ll rub your stomach of side with the hand he’s holding a pen in. / “Tech, I don’t even know how to pronounce that,” you admit looking over one. / “Ah that’s why I included the phonetics,” he says happily. / You perk an eyebrow and lean back to stare at him. Clearing his throat he nods and tilts his head crossing out the name.

Hunter ↴

When you told him — he was actually right there with you, holding your hand (literally) when you found out. He’s super excited about becoming a dad! You talked about it in advance and decided to let it happen when it happens and when it did you were both really happy! He extremely encouraging of you in the moment. He’s so proud and excited, but he wants you to know that he’s going to be there for you, for anything you need, he’s your shoulder and your support no matter what.

Protective, and still learning — Hunter is a protector and he’s naturally very protective of those he loves, but when it comes to you and the baby he’s ten times more protective, which at times (like in a really crowded market) can be really nice. However, when it comes to everyday things, he can be a bit much. Like when he found you reaching overhead for something and he came rushing to your aid. / “You know. . . I can still get things on my own,” you softly remind him. / “Well, I just thought. . . with the baby-“ he starts. / “I can still do some things,” you touch his arm, “I know you’re a little more worried about me, but I’m still me, I don’t want to feel like I’m a liability,” you softly smile hoping he understands. // And he does, he’s just learning to give you your independence or let you keep it rather. He learns that there are certain things you’ll ask for help for, but you are still an individual, plus one now. You find that the learning process actually helps to strengthen your relationship: you asking for help more easily and him knowing when to step in naturally.

Loves seeing his brothers interact with you — one of Hunter’s favourite things about your pregnancy is seeing how the rest of the Bad Batch interact with you. They all treat you like an absolute Queen. Everything must be comfortable, regular “do you need anything?” questions are asked. Company is always available if you don’t want to be alone. There’s never a dull moment, like when you showed Wrecker the baby kicking, or when Tech brought you a remedy, and Echo told you about a family he knew back on Coruscant. / It really hit Hunter one night when he told you how he loved seeing you all get along so well and you nuzzled your against him, casually saying: “yeah, they’re gonna make great uncles.” For some reason he’d never thought that far into the future yet, let when the kid was 2 or 5 or 10, but realising that they’d have a special place with not only you two, but his brothers got to his emotions.

Amazing at listening to your worries — happy as you are, you have your doubts and fears and worries and concerns and overreactions. Hunter doesn’t try to skim over it, even when you’re in your third trimester and start worrying. He knows you need someone to talk to and he’s there for you. He never belittles your emotions or puts his first, he tries to help as much as he can however that looks. / “Hunter, I’m just really scared,” you admit one night in tears, “I’ve never done this, will the baby be okay? Will we be okay?” / Hunter takes your hand in his, wiping away your falling tears, “I don’t have all the answers, but I’ll be right beside you when we find out, and I have hope that we’ll all be okay,” he dips to meet your eye line, “whatever happens we’ll meet it together, I can promise you that.” // sometimes you question if you’re already a bad mom because you’re worrying so much, but Hunter takes you by the arms and runs some affirmations by you, reminding you that you’re human and it’s okay to feel these emotions.

Absolutely glowing — when someone finds out / acknowledges him as a to-be dad, Hunter is absolutely beaming with happiness and pride. He can’t believe that he not only gets to be your husband, but also the father of your child. He feels like this is going to be a whole new experience and he’s ready to take on the challenges and the joys side by side. / Naturally, he has some worries and anxieties, which he typically tries to hide, but truly overall he is just happy and cannot wait to meet the little one.

Wrecker ↴

When you told him — Wrecker had to have you clearly spell it out for him, not subtle hint that you were pregnant. When it clicked, he was overjoyed. He scooped you up in his arms, giving you a big hug before suddenly and gently putting you down. “Wait- am I gonna hurt the baby with hugs?” He asks in a whisper, with a concerned look that he’s already done something wrong. / “No, not yet,” you admit, “but maybe we practice baby hugs for when we get to the later stages?” You tilted your head with your question. / “Right,” Wrecker nods decidedly, going in for one of the most gentle hugs you’ve ever revived, “baby hugs for my babygirl.” / From then on he’s super aware of just how tightly he takes you in his arms, almost always asking if that’s okay and something, usually when he’s really happy, he’ll ask if he can hugs just a little tighter.

Has your cravings memorised — Wrecker absolutely takes a mental note of your favourite cravings. He makes sure to have them on hand at all times! In fact he’s the kind of guy that when you say he doesn’t have to get extra of something he knows you crave / like, he gets extra anyway and then uses the excuse that he wasn’t sure how hungry he’d be anyways. So, you wind up getting some anyway.

↳ He also definitely uses your cravings as an excuse to buy bulk of a few of his favourite snacks, writing them off as your cravings when Hunter asks. And it works only until he gets something that the rest of the Bad Batch know you don’t eat, then they really question him. / “what’s going on?” You ask, coming over to the little kitchen area of the space you’re currently staying in. / “Wrecker claims these are for your cravings-“ Hunter begins. / “But we’ve never seen you eat this before,” Tech finishes. / “Nope, I don’t eat that,” you admit, “had he been trying to pass his snacks for my cravings?” / “He has been for weeks,” Echo chimes in. / You drop your jaw and place your hands on your hips, looking to Wrecker. / “wh- but- aww come on, I only get nine months to stock up,” he tries, “and they were more likely to believe it that way.” / “In what galaxy do you think we’d buy the idea that she eats only your favourite snacks?” Echo shakes his head. / “…this one?” Wrecker tries again.

Baby clothes are a weakness — basically anything baby related actually. Taking him clothes or toy shopping for the baby is hilarious to watch. He’s in love with how cute and small and soft everything is. He’s convinced that they need every stuffy and soft toy there is. He also wants to help decorate any space that the baby will be in. To your surprise, he’s actually really good with setting up rooms and he’s a huge help when it comes to rearranging the heavy furniture or crib. Wrecker wants to make the space extra special for the little one and he does that really well, bringing elements for various trips and planets into the room. / “I just- I hope they like it,” Wrecker rubs the back of his neck, looking into the room. / “I think they’ll love it,” you hug him from the side, placing a hand on his chest. / “Really? Did they let you know like- somehow?” Wrecker asks excitedly. / “Trust me, it’s the mother’s instinct kicking in,” you claim. / “Alright! We are nailing this,” he brings you a little closer.

100% on your side + learning — Wrecker is your best friend and that doesn’t stop during the pregnancy. He doesn’t baby talk you or try to tell you what you should because now you’re experiencing different things. Usually you have to remind him that you’re pregnant, at least until you really start showing. Hunter and Echo will sigh, roll their eyes and give a reprimanding “Wrecker!” early on when he suggests you do something that most definitely should not be done while pregnant, but you just have to laugh. You respect that he doesn’t treat you different and adore his innocence in not really knowing pregnancy protocol, but you also love the fact that you can see him learning. In your later trimesters Wrecker becomes your little protector (as if he wasn’t already), but he’s mister-clear the way if you’re coming down a ramp, he will hold your hand and keep everyone back so you have plenty of space. Same with a lot of the ladders you have to climb, even just to get around the ship; Wrecker keeps one, if not both, hands on your hips/thigh/butt while you’re coming down and insists on going first so he could catch you just in case! He also monitors all hugs you receive, reminding them to keep some baby space for the baby.

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// ❤︎ thank you for reading! ❤︎︎ //

[bajisbabe]

# IT’S JUST A CIGARETTE

you need a cigarette but he won’t let you have one | Aki x Reader

warnings: smoking, kissing, Aki and the reader enemies if you squint, but the reader is eager to gain his recognition too, the reader is a lil’ naive, lil’ bit of a brat, lil’ bit of a crybaby, and sucks at smoking.

synopsis: Takes place during the mission in Chapter 15. Aki is your partner on said mission. While the others are away, patrolling the halls, you find that you need something to ease the stress, so you take one of his cigarettes. And he doesn’t like that.

song: none.

photo cred (left to right): 1 2 3

You and Aki have been paired up on a mission. Forced to chase down a devil that won’t stop running. And now, it has led you to a floor in which you’re trapped in some kind of labyrinth. And try as you might, you can’t seem to find an exit.

To make matters worse, you and Aki decided to stay behind while the rest of your unit patrolled the halls. Gradually, it began to feel like hours had passed and none of them had returned. Had you known it would take this long, you would’ve gone with them.

Of course, this situation is weighing heavy on your shoulders. It has been hours—or at least that’s what you think. You can’t be sure now that the clock has stopped. Aki has left the room momentarily to check the hallway, and you notice that he’s left his pack of cigarettes on the table.

So you casually stroll up to the pack and decide to take one, feeling no guilt as you doubt he’ll miss a single cigarette. You bring the cigarette to your lips, peering around to see if you can find what you need to light it. Unfortunately for you, he hadn’t left his lighter behind. And before you can find a lighter, Aki comes rushing in through the door.

And he is quick to ruin your attempt at finding some kind of relief.

“No.” He says, snatching the stick from your fingers and tossing it to the ground. He stomps on the tobacco with his foot, grinding it into pieces and staining the carpet below. “M’not letting you smoke that. It’ll rot your bones—”

“But you smoke it!” You whine, throwing your arms out in exasperation. You were stressed and needed something to take the edge off. Surely, a smoke wouldn’t hurt; even if it was your first. “You smoke all the time, and I—”

“I don’t care,” he cuts you off coldly, glaring at you from out of the corner of his eye. “If I say you’re not smoking, then you’re not smoking.”

You sit in silence for a moment, pouting some as you glance up at him from under your lashes. He has his back turned, looking out int the hallway to see if he can find your co-workers. You decide to take your chance then, reaching out for the pack of cigarettes and taking another.

Just as you’re about to put it between your lips, he grabs you by the wrist. His grip unyielding as he yanks you closer, “I said, you’re not smoking.” He grits out through bared teeth. “Why won’t you listen to me—?”

“You’re not my dad,” you say childishly. And before you can pull away, his grasp on you tightens to an extent that has your knees buckling. You crumple, hissing in pain as he works the stick from your fingers yet again.

“Don’t argue with me, stupid.” He spat, eyes blank as he took the cigarette from you. He pulls it to his lips, tugging a lighter out of his pocket and lighting the cigarette. He shows no remorse or guilt as you sit there, on the floor, rubbing your wrist as though the pain will go away.

He catches your eye for a brief second, causing you to look away. You despise him. You don’t want anything to do with him. He’s selfish, he’s crude, he’s mean, and he just overall doesn’t treat you very well.

You hate him.

But you have no other option as all the devil hunters have been paired up or assigned to someone else. You and him are a team now, you just wish you weren’t.

“M’supposed to be your partner,” you grumble under your breath. You don’t intend to cry, but you feel a lump forming in your throat and the backs of your eyes are burning. “Yet, you don’t even treat me like an equal.”

He takes a long drag of the cigarette, parting his lips to let the smoke swirl and curl in the air before his eyes. And you’re envious. Tobacco must serve him well if he has a habit of smoking. It must make him feel good or something. You want to feel good too.

“I’ll treat you like an equal when you start acting like one,” he says, quietly and calmly. He always seems so nonchalant about things, never feeling strongly about anything unless it concerns his past or the Gun Devil specifically.

Your nose burns as the room begins to fill with lingering smoke and the scent of tobacco. You try not to make a disgusted expression; trying not to prove his point that you don’t need a cigarette. But you can’t help it as a frown appears on your lips.

He notices immediately, an eyebrow raising and a subtle tug of his lips. But it disappears before you can see it. He approaches you, steady and fast. His waist bent as he sank to your level, “Wanna smoke that bad, huh?”

The smell is enough to make you seriously regret your decision. You try to shake your head, or voice that you’ve changed your mind. But he is already grabbing you by the arm and tugging you to your feet.

“Don’t act shy now,” he says, the cigarette wiggling between his lips. One hand clutches your shoulder, the other working the lit cigarette out of his mouth. You pull back but he doesn’t let go, his fingers holding the cigarette and pressing it to your lips.

You jolt, attempting to push him away. He doesn’t budge, pressing harder until you relent. And you have a split second to note that the tip is damp with what you suspect is his saliva.

“Breathe in,” he says.

You turn away, trying to escape the sudden burning of your lungs. He shows no mercy, clutching your shoulder harder and practically shoving the cigarette into your mouth.

“Breathe in,” he repeats. “Do it now. Show me that you’re my equal.”

His equal. So, that’s what this is about. Your lungs burn as you inhale, taking too quick of a breath and doubling over as he removes the cigarette from your mouth. You cough and gag, spitting up as you try to rid of the taste it left behind.

He again shows no remorse or guilt. He simply takes another drag from the cigarette, seemingly uncaring that the same cigarette was just in your mouth. He taps the end of it against the table, letting the ash fall as he watches you cough and sputter.

“You wanna be treated like my equal, right?” He said, eyeing you from the side. He watches your eyes become glossy and wide as you finally catch your breath. Cruel and inconsiderate and he pushes on with the one-sided conversation. “Then take another drag, and don’t cough it all out this time.”

He holds his hand out, the cigarette balanced between his long fingers. His expression is blank as he waits patiently for you to make a move. You can feel your eyes burning just at the thought of having to take another drag. You don’t even want to entertain his cruelty, but you desperately want him to treat you fairly.

… should you…?

You gulp thickly, throat itchy as you slowly reach out. But before you can touch it, he pulls the cigarette away.

“Uh uh,” he says quietly, no emotion present in his voice. “...C’mere.”

You blink back tears of discomfort, still trying your damnedest not to choke over the remnants of smoke left behind from the first drag. You bite your lip, hesitating. But eventually you come to him. And he beckons you closer and closer until you two are only a breath away.

“Here,” he mumbles. “Do as I say, okay?”

You nod, your eyes on him the whole time. And he feels a strange shudder run down his spine. Something about the way you’re looking at him and how obedient you’re being. He likes it.

“Open your mouth”—you part your lips for him, and he gently places the cigarette on the curve of your lower lip—“Now breathe in. Slowly.”

He watches you take another drag, your chest trembling as you fight back the urge to cough. And you succeed in taking in the smoke. A small smile tugs at his lips as he instructs you again. “Hold it…” his eyes rack over your face, focused intently at every little twitch and jerk. “Now let it all out.”

You rush the exhale, coughing and sputtering again but not as much as before. You don’t notice the hint of admiration in his eyes as he looks at you. There’s something he likes about you—something he never noticed before.

He could’ve sworn he disliked you before. He always thought of you as lazy, ignorant, and overly passive. But something had changed in the last couple of seconds. He liked you.

“Have I”—the rasp of your voice draws his attention—“Have I proved myself yet?” Your eyes are watering, one squeezed shut as you gasp and swallow. Smoking clearly wasn’t for you. But you were desperate to please.

Maybe that’s what he liked. How you seeked recognition. Or maybe, how you fought so hard to prove yourself to him when he was no one special. You must respect him then, if you serve to please.

The corner of his lips twitched, but he didn’t smile. He couldn’t, not with you looking at him. So close, mere inches away from your lips brushing his. And you seemed unbothered by the lack of space between you two. He would take advantage of your naviety to social cues later, but now he had something else in mind.

“No,” he said.

“No?” You repeated, having to clear your throat after hearing how ghastly you sounded. “Whaddya mean ‘no?’”

“I mean, no.” He said, shrugging as he walked past you. Only one or two steps away before he turned to you, having to bite back a cruel grin. He liked toying with you like this. It was nice, and it took the stress of the situation away.

Maybe, he would do this more often. You could have his cigarettes in turn, and he could play with you instead. He wouldn’t need the sticks if he had you.

“One more.” He said quietly. “One more drag and I’ll consider you my equal.”

You stood in silence for a moment, unsure of whether or not to believe him. What little you knew of Aki hadn’t brought you to believe that he was a bad guy. He didn’t seem like the type to toy with others, not that you knew of. But you didn’t know much it seems. Foolishly agreeing with a curt nod of the head, “Okay.”

You tried to snatch the cigarette from his hand, far too confident in your ability to do as he asked. But like before, he dodged you. Eyes narrowing as he gestured you to come closer. His fingers curl as you follow his lead.

“This one’ll be different.” He said.

“What?” You muttered. “Well, that’s not fair. Why should this one be different if the other two were—”

“You wanna be my equal or not?”

That shut you up. With a huff, you glanced over at him, waiting for further instruction. His heart stuttered at the sight of your obedience. You were listening to him and without fuss. He found it intriguing.

“C’mere.” He said.

You wanted to argue, to say that you couldn’t get any closer considering you were already as close as could be. But you didn’t bother, knowing he would likely just shut you down and cut you off again.

You pressed closer, your bodies brushing against each other. And for a split second, you thought about how bad of an idea this was. The devil could show up at any moment and you would be unprepared if you kept messing around with Aki. Or even worse, Denji and the others could walk in and you’d never hear the end of it. But you found yourself justifying the action with the simple thought that you could win Aki over like this.

You and him would be a team for real this time. And he would treat you as an equal and you could work so well together. Wouldn’t that make all this worth it?

You decided that you were going to go through with it, no matter what he asked of you. But you hadn’t been expecting it honestly—what he said next.

“I’m gonna take a drag, and then feed it to you, okay?”

You froze, eyes blown wide and brows furrowing. What was this, some kind of joke? You choked, and not on the smoke this time. “Very funny,” you spat. Your defenses coming up quick, you didn’t even think twice before saying it. “I’m not doing that—”

“Don’t you wanna be my equal?”

You stammer and stutter, unsure of what to say as he takes a drag from the cigarette, closing the space between you both quickly. You put your hands up as though to push him away. But you freeze again, body stiff as he grabs you by the jaw. He tilts your chin, working his tongue into your mouth with ease.

And you find yourself clutching onto his arms, as he tugs you closer. The smoke swirling out of the spaces where your lips don’t quite meet. Your lungs burn and your eyes itch, but you don’t pull away. Whether because of your eagerness to please or because of how good his tongue feels against your own, you don’t know.

But when he pulls away, your head is hazy and it’s hard to breathe.

“Breathe,” he reminds you, his large hand placed on the space just below the base of your neck. “Come on. Breathe.”

And you let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding. You can feel the blood rush to your head, your face heating up. Why had you done that, why had you followed him so mindlessly?

What were you thinking? What if he told someone, or if someone found out? Would you be fired? He’s your mission partner, you can’t just—

“So? Now that you’re my equal,” He says suddenly, causing you to flinch. He raises a brow before continuing without much care. “Did that ease your stress or do you need another smoke?”

[hockeywhy]

4 times you faked a relationship + 1 time you didn’t; m.tkachuk

WARNINGS: language. WORD COUNT: 17.2k. A/N: So, I didn’t want my effort for this fic to go to waste and I’ve decided to re-write it for Matty because he and the fake dating trope work so well together. I had to, so here it is.

one.

“I’d only be asking Matthew if I had no other options and needed a last resort,” you said. “Until then, I’m not even contemplating it.” 

“Kind of sounds like you’ve just about reached the bottom of your list, right around where you’re keeping Matthew, Y/N,” your friend, Anna, responded and though her tone said sympathy, the look on her face reflected anything but sheer elation. 

The invitation landed on your tabletop with a loud slap while you deposited yourself in a nearby chair unceremoniously, glaring at the decorative paper as if it offended you. Actually, scratch that. It did offend you. Greatly so. Honestly, it may as well have come in the form of one of those boxing gloves that sprung out of a box immediately upon opening and decked you square in the face. That’s how much it offended you. 

The golden letters inked on the thick paper warmly requested the pleasure of your company to witness the love of Josh Reynolds to Louise Jones six weeks from now. The location stated was a hotel you knew only through word of mouth: one of those fancy establishments that served ridiculously priced plates that were more canapes than actual meals. 

You doubted there would be much pleasure from your company.

You and Josh called it quits just over a year ago after a relationship that became increasing rockier, significantly more emotionally exhausting. The two of you started dating in high school and if the relationship started off with nothing but the sort of blinding fiery passion only teens could be capable of, well someone missed the memo on giving you the message that all fires eventually fizzle out. Gradually, it was the only way you could see your relationship heading and it seemed that Josh felt it too. It made the breakup easier: it was neat and mutual. Still, that couldn’t be considered an incentive for either of you to invite each other to such grand, deeply personal events. You couldn’t help but feel a little hurt that he found someone he wanted to tie the knot with so quickly but in retrospect, Josh had always wanted that while you were content as you were. That seemed to be the fork in your road with him.

On the one hand, you were angry at Josh for even considering jotting your name down on the list of attendees and on the other, you were angry at yourself for being angry about that. One moment you were dead set on declining the invite and the next, you considering that doing that would simply show you were bitter and unable to be civil about it. Besides, surely it was noted somewhere in the Rulebook of Ex’s that you just couldn’t do stuff like that. That seemed to just about do it. Like hell you’d given anyone the satisfaction of one-upping you.

You needed a plus one. Desperately. 

“Ask your brother then. Pretty sure that’s bound to impress anyone there. It’s not often many will get to say they brushed shoulders with an up-and-coming professional athlete.” 

“I don’t need that sort of plus one. If I did, I would’ve asked you—”

“Thanks,” Anna mumbled.”

“—but what I need,” you ploughed on ahead, “is, well, something that can come off a bit more serious looking.”

She rolled her eyes. “Saying the word boyfriend won’t jinx you into permanent silence, you know. You need a boyfriend.”

“A boyfriend for a day,” you agreed contemplatively. 

She picked up the invitation to look through it carefully and after concluding her inspection, she slapped the papers back down on the table, grinning. “Matthew it will be then!” 

Your younger brother, Jake, recently signed his entry-level contract with the Calgary Flames, in a way carrying forward the family tradition of starting a career in professional sports with them. Your grandfather did, your father did and now, here you were watching your little brother take on the mantle. Your family’s involvement in sport and, specifically, the team meant that you were somewhat familiar with the organization whether that meant attending home games or a few events arranged by the team. You couldn’t say you were the best of friends with them, certainly nowhere near the level your brother was, but generally speaking you were fond of the C of Red. 

That couldn’t also be said about Matthew, however.

It seemed that from the get-go, there was a personality clash between you. At first, you thought it was just Matthew picking on you, joking around as he disagreed with virtually anything you’d say but progressively, you were pretty sure the two of you didn’t even have the compatibility to keep things civil. Matthew had a way with pushing your buttons and it bothered you he could do that with so much ease, though the more you thought of it, the more it shouldn’t have come as a surprise to you: you were all too familiar with his on-ice shenanigans, after all. Whenever you knew you had to be under the same roof as him, you’d tell yourself to not let him get under your skin but that resolve would last for all of ten minutes. Fifteen if you had a particularly good day. 

Much to your chagrin, it seemed your brother was closest to Matthew. Though you offered the spare room in your apartment, your brother was so warmly welcomed by Matthew. It was no doubt even Jake found your annoyance with his teammate entertaining.

The thought alone was frustrating enough. If one day, by chance, you caught sight of a white strand of hair on your head, you were dead set on blaming Matthew for it. Matthew and his smarmy attitude; Matthew and his smartass retorts; Matthew and the smirks he threw your way whenever your brother took his side, outnumbering you. 

You clenched your teeth, glaring at the invite. From the corner of your eye, you saw Anna’s outstretched hand holding your phone out to you. A groan formed in your throat and you wished you kept in contact with the handful of guys you tried dating after Josh. None really stayed. Or better said, none managed to draw you in. It was as if Josh had put a jinx on you. If that was the case, you hoped that this whammy would disappear if it meant watching him watch someone else walk down the aisle towards him. 

Anna waved the device at you insistently. “Do it. Come on. Even you know nothing says fuck you like turning up there with Matthew. Scrappy when he wants to be and he’s not bad to look at either. You know it.” 

You arched an eyebrow up at her. “More than Johnny?” 

She flushed visibly. Johnny and Anna were still a relatively new thing, dancing around their relationship carefully as if they were both doing this rodeo for the first time. It was pretty cute. “Don’t change the subject.” She placed the device down on the table in front of you then patted your shoulder. “I have a feeling you won’t regret it. If he gets on your nerves too much, well…it can’t be worse than watching your ex get married, right?” 

“Ouch,” you winced, but chuckled, knowing you were defeated. Matthew was the last resort, and you knew you were at the bottom of your list before you even started going through it. “You do realize if he declines, I’ll probably make a start on packing my bags and moving to Montana, right? The only time you’ll hear from me is when my handwritten letter goes through the nine circles of hell that is our postal service.” 

Anna fixed you with a stare that could only read as ‘do it’. “I wouldn’t be so insistent on this if I knew Matthew would say no. I have a feeling he’ll surprise you.” 

With a heavy sigh, you unlocked your phone and scrolled through your list of contacts, thumb hovering over his name when it came up. Anna wasn’t wrong: Matthew wasn’t bad to look at all, that much you could admit. But god, if he turned you down…. you knew you wouldn’t be able to ever show your face in front of him or the rest of the team ever again. 

“I think I’ve had enough surprises from him to last a lifetime,” you mumbled but tapped the call symbol anyway.

He answered on the third ring. “Hel—

You didn’t let him finish. “I need your help,” you ground out, eyes closing while you rubbed at your forehead with the tips of your fingers. 

There was silence on the other end of the line that had you biting your lip in anxiousness. You shouldn’t have done this. You really shouldn’t have done this. All it would take would be just hitting the ‘resume my account’ link on one of the dating apps you signed up for a while ago. Someone was bound to be attracted not only to you but the promise of an open bar—

“Music to my ears,” Matthew’s response came through. You could practically hear the smile in his voice and knew you’d regret it; you could easily tell from the tone of his voice. 

You sighed quietly, leaning forward to rest your elbows on the table, eyes glued to the invitation. Fuck it, you could get someone else; easily, no doubt. The world of online dating was vast and there would always be takers.

“Uh, yeah actually, never mind—”

“No, no. Come on, Y/N. Pretty sure this is the first time you’re calling me first so can we take a moment to just let that sink in?” Silence again, then a chuckle. “Okay, now that we did. How can I help you?” 

It wasn’t as if Josh had put you in the position to ask Matthew for a favor but still: fuck Josh, anyway. In a split second of sheer pettiness, you considered aiming to host the most extravagant, unforgettable weddings when your turn would come just to show him who does it better. 

“Are you free the third weekend in June?” you asked tiredly. 

“Don’t know. Depends what for and who you’re asking for.” 

You should’ve asked him face-to-face. At least then, he would’ve had the chance to see you roll your eyes, turn on your heel and walk away. “I’m obviously asking for myself. Could you just be straightforward for once and answer yes or no? You’re making me hold the line for longer than I anticipated and I’m happy to ask someone else,” you lied.

“Let me get this right—” Here comes, you thought exhausted. “You’re calling me for the first time since you have my number to ask me if I’m free the third weekend in June? As a favor for yourself.” 

“Matthew, I didn’t stutter—”

“What’s happening in June?”

You don’t know what it was about his words that downed you. It was nothing but a simple question yet the only thing you could think of was: the first boy I’ve dated and so far, the only one, seems to have moved on quicker than I anticipated and while I’m still trying to build myself back up, I’m sitting in my kitchen looking at a wedding invitation and wallowing in self-pity because regardless of how hard I try, of how much I’ve amended my standards, no one seems to do it so what if this is it for me? What if this is just the way it’ll be from now on? And now, I’m resorting to lying just to make myself feel better but also put a façade in front of someone who I know no longer cares about me like that. And really, nor do I about him but here we are. So, nothing much is happening in June, Matthew. Hopefully we get a lot more sunshine though!

What you responded with instead was, “just an old friend of mine getting married and I need a plus one. Nothing serious. Just go there for an hour or two, say some hellos and leave. It’s a quick in-and-out thing.” 

More silence on the other end of the line other than the muffled shuffle of what sounded like bedsheets. “Why not ask your brother then?” 

“Asked him already, said he’s got something lined up already. So, are you free or not?” you lied, quickly pressing on even if you knew that sounded a lot like desperation.

“For you, at a price.” He was smirking. You knew he was and more than ever, you wished 2021 was the year you could just reach through the phone and shake the person on the other end. 

“Uh-huh. Right. No, just forget it. Forget I even—”

You were going to end the call when Matthew laughed, quickly calling out a “no, no! Nothing weird, I promise. Just owe me a favor in return, is all.” 

“Do I get a choice?” you mumbled, more to yourself than towards him.

“I think we both know that you don’t. Text me the time and place,” he instructed and then, just as you were really about to end the call, he added, “hey, send me a photo of what you’re wearing also. I’ll match my tie to your dress, free of charge.” 

“Can you maybe ditch the jacket while you’re at it? Just want to make sure your tie’s within reach so I can strangle you with it.”

Even after you cut the call, Matthew’s laughter rang in your ears. 

-

Matthew matched his tie to your red dress. The color of the silk around his neck was so striking, you would swear it was made from the same material as your outfit. You sent him a photo of the material of the dress, more as a joke than having any expectations attached to it so you were pleasantly surprised to see he made the effort. For a moment, you allowed yourself to bask in sheer joy knowing that to any eye, the two of you could easily pass as a couple. At least, from looks alone if not from attitude. You were a proud person; fiercely so. Knowing you were now in debt to Matthew however he saw fit dealt a pretty impressive blow to your ego. You don’t let yourself linger too much on that thought, though. It was already difficult enough to loosen up and relax your stance as you climbed into Matthew’s car as soon as he texted you of his arrival. 

“You look good,” he commented after you fixed the seatbelt on. He turned in his seat as much as space would allow so he could look at you properly and in return, you arched an eyebrow, refusing to give way to his stare. “Are you trying to one-up the bride?” 

“Ha, ha. Funny. You didn’t even see the bride. I didn’t even see the bride.” 

“Didn’t see her but I’m seeing you, so,” he shrugged, by way of explanation before correcting his position. 

If asked, you wouldn’t deny that Matthew also looked good. Very good. But only if asked. It was impossible that someone with a face like that didn’t know they turned heads easily wherever they went. Matthew’s suit fit him as if it was sown on him. If the two of you had a better relationship, you would even dare ask him what it was he was putting in that hair of his that made it so shiny and gave those curls so much definition, taming them almost perfectly when he really put his mind to it. Whatever it was, you had a feeling he didn’t strain as much as you had earlier that morning to tame your hair and though you could give yourself credit for how well it turned out, your arms weren’t thanking you for it. 

Thankfully, much of the drive was pleasant. Though you hated small talk, you decided to make an effort if only to ease your nerves as the navigation system indicated you were drawing closer and closer to that glitzy hotel. You learned that although the season was over, Matthew, Brady and the rest of the family would spend a few weeks in Canada before heading back home to St. Louis. In turn, you told him that some of the days off you booked from work would be spent somewhere just as sunny and warm but with more beaches. It was safe ground. That, you could do although progressively, you were becoming more and more distracted, and less focused on the conversation the two of you managed to keep. 

“Want me to pull over?” Matthew asked suddenly. 

“What,” you mumbled, turning your attention from the road ahead to Matthew who seemed amused by the situation. “Why would I want you to do that?” 

“I’d want you to do that. You look pretty pale and honestly, I’ve just had the interior cleaned so—”

“Fuck you, Tkachuk, keep driving. I’m just a little…cold. How high do you have the AC on?” 

He fixed you with a stare while waiting for the lights ahead to turn green, eyebrow arched. “It’s June, Y/N, and uncomfortably warm. If it makes you feel better, though, I could turn it off and we can roll down the windows instead?”

“No, sorry—you’re right. It’s fine. Just leave the AC as it is.” 

The laugh he gave was nothing short of incredulous. “Repeat that back for me. Actually—hold on, do that when I can press record on my phone so I can have that on repeat. Did you admit I’m right?” 

“God, you’re making me regret inviting you,” you muttered though without heat. 

An uncomfortable silence slipped between the two of you or maybe, it was just your perspective on it. Matthew seemed perfectly at ease minding the road, only occasionally throwing a cursory glance towards the car’s navigation system whenever it announced a turn. Doing this seemed more and more like a bad idea. A terrible one. No one would’ve held it against you if you denied the invitation. In fact, you thought that was more expected than accepting it and turning up to the party as if you were seeing an old friend, not an ex-boyfriend. It wasn’t too late though. Matthew could still turn the car around. 

“Listen, Matt—”

“You have now reached your destination. Your destination is on the right.”

You released a breath you weren’t even aware of holding, then threw a quick look towards the main entrance of the hotel. Already, a few guests whom you recognized were crossing into the lobby.

“You really don’t look okay at all,” Matthew repeated and there was less humor in his voice and more concern this time around. Even you weren’t ignorant to how much your mood kept fluctuating over the course of the drive: often, engaged in conversation but occasionally, withdrawn, barely just catching on to whatever it was Matthew was saying. Sure, he probably didn’t know you well enough to read you, but it didn’t take a genius to figure out something was amiss. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but I felt like there’s more to this thing than you’re telling me. You could’ve asked your brother, yet you didn’t—” 

Damn it. You made him swear to play along. You made a quick mental note to get back at him about it whenever you felt energized enough to do so.

“Matthew,” you said, your voice suddenly clear, tone neutral. You didn’t dare look him in the eyes so instead, you kept your stare fixed on the revolving doors ahead. “I’m only going to say this once and I hope that you won’t make me repeat it now or ever again. I’d prefer that you don’t mention it to anyone either. The person getting married today is my ex-boyfriend. Up until last year, we’ve been together since we were teenagers. I loved him. Since we broke up, I kept trying to look for parts of him in others, but I couldn’t find even a trace of who he was. I feel as I’ve been jinxed, and I felt that maybe if I come today, maybe if I see him with someone else, I can confidently say I’m fine with that. It hurt my pride when I received the invitation, so my first thought was to lie. If, for just a few hours, I can pretend I’ve also moved on and I’m not stuck in this…fucking weird limbo, then maybe it becomes true. A fucked up self-prophecy. So.” You pause, clearing your throat. Your mouth suddenly felt dry from your speech, yet you couldn’t feel a pang of regret in your chest or heat behind your eyes. “So. If you want out, that’s fine. After all, I’m asking you to pretend to be my date out of spite, I guess. And embarrassment. It’s childish and unfair and ridiculous but—”

You came to a halt when you felt a finger under your chin, and a gentle upward push forced you to raise your head up a little more. When you turned towards Matthew, you looked at him with a look of confusion on your face. 

“Keep your head up. We have a wedding to go to.” 

His encouragement sunk in faster than expected and as your expression relaxed, a smile formed on your face. 

Yeah. The two of you had a wedding to go to. 

-

The event hall was decorated minimally yet tastefully. It made everything seem even more personal and you received that impression from every detail: from the flower arrangements to the music, everything was a testament to a life united by love. Maybe your emotional outburst earlier accounted for it, but you felt lighter even as you watched the newlyweds glide along the floor for their first dance. Sure, you felt a desperate pang of want but it was distant. Muffled. 

Despite your initial thoughts, having Matthew at your side felt very much like a safety cushion. It surprised you to watch him settle into his role with so much ease that eventually, even you didn’t have to remind yourself to not withdraw whenever his arm wrapped around your waist: sometimes loosely, sometimes a little tighter, reeling you in closer.

Fish, here is your bait, you thought wildly as you stood tucked at his side while he accepted flatteries from one of the guests who swore had been a fan of the Calgary Flames since before he could even talk.

“You must be so proud,” the man turned towards you. “Your family’s truly one of a kind to have all played for the team and now—” He gestures towards Matthew as if to say all of this. “Must be something about those Flames!” 

You laughed tightly, just as Matthew squeezed your side. By that move alone, you could tell he was eating this up. 

“Yeah, just can’t get enough of them,” you concluded, pitching your voice just a little higher towards the end. To the man, it was as genuine as could be, but Matthew cautioned you silently with the slightest narrowing of his eyes, effectively warning you to be more realistic. “Hey, I’ll get us some refills? Try to be a little more inconspicuous in the meantime. Remember this isn’t your day,” you joked. 

“Only practicing for when our turn comes,” Matthew responded without missing a beat and released the hold he had on you. 

Once at the bar, you allowed yourself some extra moments to catch your breath. Even off ice, Matthew was a force to be reckoned with. He struck conversation with others easily, drew their attention with seemingly little effort and easily set the mood for whatever situation or person the two of you would run into. A part of you thought his profession had a lot to do with his mannerism, but a bigger part knew different:  mostly, it was really just Matthew. 

He had a way with words and with people that you haven’t been witness to before and couldn’t help but wonder if it was all show. He was, after all, a face for the public: familiar with interviews, familiar with the attention, apparently not overwhelmed even by less conventional questions. Watching him play this role was fascinating to say the least. It certainly took your mind off the circumstances so credit where credit was due. 

“Hey, it’s good to see you here.” 

You turned from the bar and came face to face with Josh. His jacket was off, and his sleeves were neatly rolled up past his elbows; behind the knot of his tie, you could see he’d undone the top button of the collar. You’d seen him make countless rounds across the entire floor, greeting guests and ensuring everything was running smoothly. Occasionally, you watched him dance either with his wife, or family members, or even guests you recognized as work colleagues. 

You smiled. “Thanks for the invite. It was a bit weird to receive it, I can’t lie about that, but I’m glad you sent it.” It surprised you to learn you weren’t even lying about that. Through the course of the evening, it dawned on you that maybe, it was more the thought of being here that made you anxious; the event itself, however, proved just how right you were. It felt…fine. You felt fine. 

“Yeah—uh, I wasn’t… I wasn’t really sure but, well, before…” He trailed off into a sigh. 

You chuckled softly. “Would you like to buy a vowel?” 

That made him laugh. Truly, genuinely laugh. “Sorry. I guess it’s a bit weird for me also. But, well, before you and I were, well, you-and-I, we were friends. I would’ve hoped we’d still be friends even after…” He waved a hand in the air by way of explanation but that was sufficient for you.

“Won’t hurt to be friends. Whatever happened between us—well. Thing of the past. Build bridges and get over them, right?” 

“Right. Function of a bridge and all.”

“Hey. Congratulations, by the way! I’m happy for you. Really. I wish the two of you all the best. She seems really great.” 

“She is,” he agreed and cast a glance towards the room, eyes undoubtedly searching for her. “Are you—”

“Here you are.” 

Saved by the bell. A weight fell around your waist that, by now, was warm and familiar. Unconsciously, you leaned into Matthew, flashing a wide smile at Josh. At first, he seemed surprised by the sudden appearance but then his features settled into something more comfortable; something so much like relief that for a moment, you wished you could just come clean about it. You and Matthew were less than meets the eye.

Before you could even introduce them, a kiss was pressed to your cheek, knocking all air from your lungs and almost making you choke because of it.

What the hell.

“You were gone for some time, so I thought to check on you,” Matthew informed you, all matter of fact. To Josh, he said, “congratulations on the wedding. Must be pretty great to finally get to this point. You two look great together.” 

“Oh? Yeah. Yeah, thanks man. So glad you could come along today.” Josh turned to you, an eyebrow perked in interest. “I didn’t know you two were together.” 

“Oh we’re just—” 

You began but were promptly interrupted by Matthew. “We like to keep it lowkey. It hasn’t been that long for us but that’s not much of a problem when your gut tells you this is it. You know it well, right?”  

You were entirely caught off guard. Instead of responding immediately, you bought yourself some time by taking a sip from your glass of—whatever it was. Strong though. Just perfect for the situation you suddenly found yourself in: ex-boyfriend ahead, fake boyfriend to the side, promising sweet nothings that you knew would come back to haunt you at some ungodly hour. You wished you could step on his shoe; pull on those shiny curls of his real quick, knock some sense back into him. There was a difference between play a role well and clearly, playing it too well.

Matthew pushed ahead. “It’s pretty good timing for us though. We could take some notes for when our turn comes, right babe?” 

“I’ll let the two of you to it, then. Thanks again for coming.” Josh made a move to step away but before he did, he turned to you and caught your eyes. “I’m really happy for you, Y/N. You look good together. Just make sure you don’t take too many notes.”

“Wouldn’t dream to,” Matthew responded, and you could read the slight bite in his words. When Josh was out of earshot, he looked down at you. “You dated him? Just him?” 

“Hey, what’d I say about not bringing that up again? And save your dick measuring contests for the locker room, Tkachuk. Now’s not the time nor place.” 

“Now’s definitely the time and place,” he countered, making you roll your eyes but there was a smile on your face you couldn’t quite wipe off. “Come on. Let’s continue taking leaves out of their book.” In one swift motion, he took the glass from your hand and set it on the bar while above, the LED lights dimmed, and the playlist switched to a slower song. 

You threw him a cautious look, easily reading where that was going. “I’m not dancing.”

“Sure, you are. You want to give the impression of being happily in love? You need to start pulling your weight in this thing.” 

“Oh, I’m sorry, Atlas. Do your shoulders hurt from carrying the burden of our relationship?” you mocked, yet still allowed him to lead you towards the dance floor. Right in the center of it given the bride and groom appeared to sit this one out; you expected nothing less from him. You weren’t even surprised when he made an entire show out of it, forcing you to do a pirouette when the two of you claimed your spot. 

“You can’t even imagine the pain you put me through,” he sighed near your ear as the two of you began swaying to the music. 

“Well, you’re still standing so clearly it can’t be that bad.” 

“Baby, it’s torture.” 

You were grateful the two of you weren’t exactly face to face or you were sure Matthew would never have let you live down the flush you felt rising to your cheeks. Sure, he didn’t use the pet name in a genuine manner, but just hearing it roll off his tongue like that… You stopped that thought before it grew into a whole new different monster. 

After a few moments of silence passed, Matthew lowered his head closer to yours, his warm breath colliding with the skin on your throat. “Do you think now’s the right time to kiss? Are enough people watching?” 

You stepped on his foot. Not hard, but just with the right amount of pressure to draw a wince from him. Satisfied, you leaned back just a little to look at him properly. “Don’t even think about it, Tkachuk—”

“Thought about it already.”

Through clenched teeth, you hissed, “you. Are. Incorrigible.” 

He raised his eyebrows, surprised. “If only you could meet yourself.” 

You snickered quietly then leaned back against him. “Thanks for doing this. I know it’s not the most convenient of things… and it wasn’t fair to tell you the full truth of it right on the day of. But—well, thanks.”

“That sounds like it was pretty difficult to let out. It’s very…. heartfelt.” 

“Just fucking accept it as I gave it to you, Tkachuk,” you complained, more amused than annoyed.

More silence followed, filled in only by the general buzz of the room and the slow melody. “And now?” Matthew questioned a short while later. You allowed an extended silence to fill in for your confusion. He picked up on it within seconds. “Do you still feel jinxed? Stuck in the same place while he goes on ahead in life?” 

You took some time to think through your answer, time during which the song faded into yet another slow one. Matthew didn’t give an indication of wanting to move away from the dancefloor, so you saw no purpose in you doing that. 

“Not really,” you concluded. “Just seems like we’re both following different trajectories. Doesn’t mean I’m left behind if I’ve not yet met someone to settle down with like he did. Maybe I just need to be here to come to terms with it. Good for him though. I’m genuinely happy for him and his wife. I think lots of people imagine going through this very same moment.” You ended with a shrug but then, to lighten up the moment, you added, “don’t mock me for it. Between the two of us, I’m the one with the pointy shoes.” 

Matthew laughed, a low, pleasant laugh right by your ear. “I’ll give you a free pass for what’s left of today.” 

“Your generosity astounds me. Please could you also sign my jersey?” 

“Is it my jersey?” 

“Why would it be your jersey when I have my last name printed out on one at the expense of my brother being roughed up a little?” 

“Don’t tempt me. That favor you now owe me? I might just use it to have you get my jersey so I can sign it since you so generously asked.” 

“Your call,” you shrugged. “Just know it’s going straight in the wash right after you scribble on it.” 

Matthew took a few small steps back, only to pull you back towards him. You played along and spun as you landed into his hold once again.

“You say that now, but when you’ll see yourself with it—”

“I’ll auction it on eBay.” 

The laugh you got out of Matthew stayed with you through the rest of the night and like never before, his good disposition easily transferred to you.

two.

When the elevator doors slid open, your brother and Johnny weren’t the only ones to step into the hotel lobby. Matthew accompanied them, flashing a smug smile as the trio approached and his eyes landed on you. You cast a quizzical glance from your brother, to Johnny, to Matthew and then looked towards Anna as if to ask are you seeing this? She only shrugged at you in silent response, though she was grinning from ear to ear. At least someone was certainly enjoying this.

“Last I remember, there were only two of you,” you commented.

“Was that before or after your third drink?” your brother chirped back.

Instead of humoring him, you shift your gaze to Matthew. “What gives, Tkachuk? Can’t be left at home unsupervised during family vacations?” 

“My house training has only gone so far,” he responded smartly, then nodded his head towards Anna and Johnny who were caught in a half-hug, apparently entertaining by watching you and Matthew bicker as if watching a tennis match. “They’re not family.” 

Anna feigned a gasp on your behalf. “Y/N and I are part and parcel, Matt. Thought you’d know that by now.” 

“Well, the three of us are part and parcel also, Anna. Thought you’d definitely know that by now,” he responded but you were already leading the way out of the hotel lobby and towards the busy square outside.

It was a hub of activity: from street vendors to dance and music performers, there was something to see regardless of which way you looked. Although you arrived at your holiday destination the previous day, the flight south coupled with the warm, sticky evening made you want to steer away from the busier parts of the town. Instead, you opted to lounge by the pool with Anna, having perhaps one too many cocktails to kickstart your vacation. Perhaps you missed Matthew’s arrival at some point then, though for the life of you, you couldn’t remember anyone mentioning he’d come along also. Not that it bothered you greatly.

Since the time you asked him to be your plus one some few weeks ago, the relationship between the two of you warmed slightly. Sure, he still knew which buttons to press to get a reaction out of you, but you saw it as being less ill-intended and more good-natured fun. You kept up with him easily and whenever it felt as if he was cornering you, you conceded with a roll of your eyes but never admitted defeat. You didn’t consider the two of you friends, but something changed on the day of the wedding right around the time you had spilled out your feelings about the entire deal to him. Looking back on it, you found it strange just how easily you did that, no second thoughts, no wishing for takebacks. You knew you owed him the truth given the position you put him in without plenty of heads-up, but you could’ve easily just simplified the entire thing. 

It wasn’t difficult to stick together as a group but eventually, you wandered off towards a few stalls on your own that have caught your eye. Though you wanted some more time to have Anna to yourself, it was technically her first vacation with Johnny. You could catch up with her later in the room; surely, she’d have even more swooning to do over him by then. Not that you blamed her. Johnny was an incredible guy. 

First, you stopped at a stall selling a range of baked goods that you simply couldn’t turn away from. And for good reason: the sour cherry churro you settled for was a dream come true. From there, you strolled towards a few small stores selling a range of products ranging from colorful graphic tees to earrings made from vibrant, colorful gemstones. You held a blue pair next to your ear, turning one way then another to watch as the light reflected off the gleaming gem. 

“Those suit your complexion,” the attendant commented and when you looked towards him, he smiled bashfully. 

A gentle heat crept up your neck, unable to keep the grin off your face but you couldn’t look away from him: his skin was lightly tanned, and a dusting of freckles covered the bridge of his nose and upper cheeks. His blond hair was messy in a way you could easily tell was styled to appear as such. He was cute in a sort of conventional way, but you liked the way he smiled at you, all shy but certainly genuine.

“Funny you say that. I always had a feeling blue was my color,” you responded, and his smile widened. 

“Here for vacation?” he asked. 

You nodded. “Yeah, I just got here yesterday, and I’ll be around for a few days,” you added, a little hopeful. 

Hey, if you could score some good company while in the area, then you weren’t going to turn down the opportunity to flirt a little and make good with someone more local.

“Good. That’s really good to know.” He regarded you for a moment and you were certain that caused your blush to deepen though at the same time, it made you feel a little…exposed. “Hey, are you free—”

“The red ones are nicer.” 

You squeezed your eyes shut, frustration quickly replacing the feeling of near euphoria. You could recognize that voice anywhere. Of all times he could have run into you, the universe fixed it so he popped up when you least needed that to happen. 

“I prefer the blue,” you countered, then held them up against your ear again though you knew you didn’t need to double check if they suited you. 

“No, trust me with the red,” Matthew insisted, and you saw him appear behind you in the small circular mirror you were looking into. He was so close. “Goes well with that little number I got you the other day.” 

You sputtered. “W-what?! Stop messing—”

In the mirror Matthew’s eyes flicked from you to the attendant. “Yeah, you know the one. I left the box on the bed in our room, thought to surprise—”

“Tkachuk, just shut up. There isn’t an our room—”

This was so painfully uncomfortable. So frustratingly annoying, you felt the blood warm in your veins, that familiar wave of anger coursing through your body.

“I’ll ring those up for you,” the attendant said, his voice carefully polite while he accepted the red earrings from Matthew’s outstretched hand. 

You hated him. Passionately hated him. It was easy for Matthew to play games like those because he could easily get just about anyone, but you? It wasn’t quite as easy to not be a pro-athlete who had pretty much everything lined up and going for them. You tried catching the store attendant’s eyes again but he was busy accepting the cash from Matthew after packing away the earrings in a small paper bag. You knew he wouldn’t catch sight of it, but it didn’t stop you from casting a longing, apologetic glance towards him before leaving the store. 

It felt as if for every two steps you took, Matthew only needed one and despite the crowds, he caught up with you easily, holding out the bag towards you while you powered ahead. 

“Come on, don’t be mad. The red ones are definitely better than the blue ones,” Matthew tried to reason with you while holding the hand stretched out to you, insistent on his offer. When you didn’t respond and instead, tried to rush further ahead, Matthew pressed on. Him managing to keep up with your pace only added fuel to the fire. “Don’t tell me you’re upset over Ron Jon back there.” 

You came to a halt, turning to glare up at him. “I am, Matthew. You didn’t need to do what you did back there. There was no reason for it. It was shitty of you, and I need you to back off while I try to enjoy the rest of my night.” You clenched your jaw, trying to suppress the overwhelming feeling of anger that normally resulted in tears. “You could at least pretend to be sorry about it.” 

With that, you turned on your heel and squeezed your way through the crowds, ignoring Matthew’s calls to stop and come back and that he was only joking. 

Too late for that, you thought bitterly, making a turn towards a street popular for its dining and bar venues. 

-

The part of the archipelago more popular with tourists was truly a sight to behold as the sun went down, coloring the sky in some of the warmest, most calming shades of orange, red and yellow you ever saw. It seemed as if everyone gathered on the promenade, phones at the ready while taking photos of the sky, selfies and group shots. Even you couldn’t resist it and after taking a few well-centered selfies, a passing couple offered to take your photo which you immediately posed for. 

Later, once the sight sunk in, you moved towards a nearby bar, first attracted by the pink, purple and blue neon lights and then, the music. A good cocktail, good music and a gorgeous sunset were all it took for you to feel more relaxed, leaving behind the event from earlier. He wouldn’t be the first cute guy you’d see, nor the last and indeed, it was easy for you to settle in the more crowded area of the locale where people were dancing either solo, with a partner or as part of a group.

Not long after you weaved your way onto the dancefloor, you felt a pair of hands settle on your hips, drawing you in. You went easily, accepting the embrace, accepting the way you were being led into the dance, swaying your hips along with his. You didn’t even miss a beat when he spun you around, but you kept your hands pressed against his shoulders, rather than wrapping your arms around his neck. You were tipsy, no doubt, and admittedly felt touch-starved but you weren’t quite in the mood for anything more. You even dodged his mouth when he tipped his head down to your lips so instead, he landed a kiss on your cheek. Still, he was pretty relentless. The dance took a turn that was significantly more sensual, crossing a line into discomfort, and you felt that was your cue to try and remove yourself from him. It was easy initially. You threw him a small smile and when he caught hold of your hand, you simply motioned you were only going to get a drink, hoping that would keep him where he was with the knowledge you would return. 

When you finally pulled away, you made a bee line towards the exit of the venue but again, you were a step too slow. The guy caught you just at the door.

“Where are you running off to, pretty?” he slurred, his voice louder above the thumping of the music. 

“Oh—Um, just getting a breath of fresh air, is all,” you said quickly and immediately wished you didn’t venture off in a place like this alone. It was as if you suddenly forgot everything that was common sense, pushed towards it by earlier frustration. 

“Doesn’t look like it to me.” He frowned, but there was no clarity in his eyes. He was entirely out of it and his fingers squeezed painfully around your wrist. You flinched visibly, squirming under his touch and even if you tried pulling your arm away, it was useless. He overpowered you even through the drunken haze. “Wanna go? Fine, then let’s go together.” 

“No—uh, I’m actually here with my friends. I’ve just—I saw them so I’m going to catch up with them. They must be looking for—”

“Then we can go to them together, sweetheart. Here, point them out to me.”

“No, really. I’m going to them alone,” you emphasized and put all your force into trying to free your hand. It may have taken him by surprise that led to his loosened grip, but as soon as you turned on your heel, you found out there was more to it than just that.

You almost faceplanted right into Matthew’s chest when you tried making a run for it. He stood there, eyes flicking between you and the guy with an unreadable expression on his face. Your heart was hammering wildly in your chest and instinctively, you almost glued yourself to his side. It wasn’t the first time someone tried to force a move on you, but it was the first time it was done so in such a thoughtless, drunken manner. Perhaps your fear was also enhanced by being alone in an unfamiliar place. To see Matthew this time felt like a blessing.

“Babe,” Matthew said by way of greeting, pulling you to him when he wrapped an arm around your shoulders. 

You didn’t realize you were trembling until you stood so close to him, legs suddenly feeling like jelly in front of your salvation. Matthew could easily overpower the guy; even if they were roughly the same height, there was a big difference between the body of an athlete and the swaying one of a drunk guy. Still, it didn’t mean you wanted Matthew to get caught up in anything he’d later regret or would affect him in any way, so you pressed a hand to his chest trying to put some pressure into guiding him away from the scene.

“She yours?” the drunk guy slurred, head tilting back, chin pointing towards your general direction.

“Yeah. So, guess that makes the situation even worse for you,” Matthew responded. His tone was light, seemingly non-threatening to someone who didn’t know him but you did. You knew him and you could read him crystal clear in this moment. 

“Matthew, please,” you muttered, looking at him almost desperately while trying to put all your body weight into guiding him away. 

The guy scoffed. “You’ve gotta do better than that, buddy.” He snickered. “You’ve gotta keep ‘em on a tighter leash unless you want them to go—”

Matthew made a move towards him, but you quickly stepped in front of him, essentially forcing him to halt. “Matt, please. Let’s go, okay? Please. I really want to leave. Right now.” 

He glared at the guy for a moment longer but the hard look in his eyes softened as soon as his gaze fell on you. You took the liberty of placing most of your weight against Matthew, allowing him to remove both of you from the situation and towards a less crowded area. That was easy to find: with the sun having long set, most of the crowds cleared away from the promenade so there was plenty of space for you to collect yourself in peace. 

He didn’t pry into the situation, didn’t even make any smartass comments. Instead, he let you slip away from under the safety of his arm while you pace around a small area, trying to work off the anxiety as much as you could. You had to count your breaths, remind yourself to breathe in then out slowly. You were okay. You were far from that guy, and he couldn’t hurt you. At least, no more than he already did. Your wrist felt a bit sore, but you’d take that over anything worse. 

“You okay?” Matthew asked at last, tone careful. “I can go back there and pull him out, you know, get him to apologize.”

“No!” you said loudly, desperately, then cleared your throat and lowered your voice. “No, don’t go. Please. I just need a moment, that’s all. Just a little. Could you not leave? I’ll be fine in a moment. Just—just need to catch my breath—"

“Hey, hey—relax. It’s over. He can’t put a hand down on you now, or ever.” Matthew took a few steps closer to you as if apprehensive to approach you in the first place. You knew what you must’ve looked like: pale, still shaken by what happened. He held a hand towards you, palm up. “Can I touch you?” 

You looked from it to his face, then said, “don’t get any funny ideas,” but it lacked your usual punch. You took his hand though, letting yourself be drawn to him. Matthew smelled like the sea. You couldn’t help but wonder if maybe he’d gone down to the beach earlier to take a dip. You wished you did that rather than try and drink your frustration over missing out on a random guy. God, you could sleep right here if sleeping while standing was a thing. “I’m sorry for reacting the way I did before—with, uh—what did you call him?” 

Matthew chuckled, a low, deep chuckle. “Ron Jon.” 

“You’re awful, Tkachuk.”

“And you have a funny way of expressing gratitude.” 

“Sorry—”

He laughed louder. “I’m messing with you.” A pause, and then, “I’m sorry I rained on your parade earlier with the guy back then. If you really liked him…” He trailed off, as if to let you fill in the sentence for him.

You laughed weakly, waving a hand dismissively. “Thanks. Again. Seems like nowadays, I just keep having to thank you for one thing or the other.” 

You felt him shrug. “Fine by me. You keep adding to these favors you owe me.” 

“It’s only one. Well. Two if you want to be a dick and count this one too.” 

You took a step back, detaching yourself from him to run both hands through your hair. You felt exhausted, drained of energy yet relieved. Who would’ve thought you’d be pleased to see Matthew pull another one of his appearing out of the blue acts?

“You give me no other choice but to be one,” he joked. “Come on, let’s go back to the hotel. Everyone’s wondering where you were, so you kind of lost your right to vote on dinner for tonight.” 

You sighed heavily. “Let me guess: you all ganged up on me in my absence and settled on lobster?” 

Matthew grinned. “Can’t vacation in a seaside town and skip out on that.” 

“Ugh. Sea critters.” You pulled a face, drawing yet another laugh from Matthew. It made you feel oddly accomplished but you cut that train of thought there, forcing it to derail elsewhere, to place more familiar to you, more comfortable. “Matthew, I mean it when I said thank you. That was—it was scary,” you admitted as the two of you started walking back towards the hotel. You pulled your wrist into your hand, rubbing at the skin gently. Focused on the road ahead, you missed Matthew frowning down at the gesture. “I don’t know how that happened. It’s just—it’s not my thing to do. Go out alone, especially in a place like that. Good instincts by the way,” you tried to joke but it fell flat.

“Don’t mention it,” he said, voice tight. “I don’t want to think about it again if I can help it.” 

You cast a confused stare in his direction but by then, it was his turn to look ahead, a frown marring his features. You didn’t push any further though. 

Later that night, after you and Anna decided to call it a day and switch off the lights, you lay in bed glancing a look up at the ceiling above. You didn’t think back on the evening’s events but rather, thought back to how a familiar small brown paper bag was taped to your room’s door before dinner. Anna had fixed you with a knowing stare as you plucked it off the door, tipping its contents into the palm of your hand. 

Then, you thought how during dinner, Matthew had claimed the seat next to yours and complimented the earrings you wore, remarking how awfully familiar they seemed though he could swear he didn’t know where from. For the first time, you had an inside joke to share with him and neither of you bothered to offer any clarifications to everyone else around the table as they tried to press for details. 

three.

The Flames’ first game of the season was scheduled to take place in Las Vegas and with a few days left of vacation, you couldn’t skip on the opportunity to return to the city you were inexplicably fond of, as well as watching your brother play on the third line. The night promised to be unforgettable, and you wouldn’t miss it for the world. Although there were plenty of things to keep you busy throughout the day, your eyes would occasionally wander down to your watch, counting down the hours until the start of the game. It seemed like most of the city was doing the same.

Often, you’d spot handfuls of people donning Knights jerseys and occasionally, there would be a few Flames fans wandering the streets and locales. You’d only spotted one person wearing your brother’s jersey but that was more than enough for you – he was a fairly new face in the professional league, but he certainly pulled his weight during every shift he had on ice whenever given the opportunity. Luckily, you managed to take a quick photo of their back before they disappeared into the crowds, sending it to your brother along with a thumbs-up emoji. 

He didn’t respond immediately, nor did you expect him to. You could only imagine how quickly he racked up pre-game nerves and he had a pretty strict routine, which included avoiding his phone until after the game. You couldn’t really make sense of superstitions even if each member of your family who played, whether professionally or otherwise, had their own. Naturally, you were surprised when your phone pinged, indicating a new message almost half an hour later. Except, it wasn’t quite who you were expecting.

Matthew is that your way of saying good luck?

You frowned, but all it took was a little more attention on your part to notice you hadn’t sent the message to your brother but rather, to Matthew. Lately, he was one of your top contacts for frequent messaging.

You wrong number

You good luck to you too though, i guess :/ 

Matthew busy?

You don’t you have practice to get to?

Matthew [attachment: photo of an ice rink where a few players were captured in motion]

Matthew [attachment: photo of his skates, taken from the players’ bench]

Matthew on break, where are you?

You hanging around

Matthew what are you wearing? 

You [emoji: middle finger] 

Matthew ice cold

Matthew nice, i can handle ice cold

You then go handle ice cold so you don’t get handled tonight

Matthew wish me luck too

You i already did

Matthew i need it twice, it’s my superstition 

You that’s a bullshit superstition

Matthew if we lose tonight, it’s on you

You [emoji: angry face]

You good luck!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Matthew :) 

You dropped your phone on the table with a low groan, slouching in your chair. From across the table, Anna shot you a confused stare which quickly morphed into understanding when you rolled your eyes, shooting your phone a look of frustration as if the device itself was to blame. 

“Anything interesting?” she asked in a singsong tone. 

“If you count Matthew being his usual self interesting, then that’s what’s up. Otherwise, nothing new.”

“By his usual self, do you mean engaging? Funny? Witty? So good with his words that he yet again takes your attention and keeps it while the rest of us, mere mortals, struggle to do that for longer than a few minutes tops?” 

You arched an eyebrow, somewhat amused. “All that – just empty words.” 

Anna leaned back in her seat, taking her glass with her while twirling the straw, looking ahead somewhat thoughtfully. “You know what the two of you remind me of? Those two kids in the playground who think love can only be expressed through pulling hair and making snide remarks.” 

“First of all, that’s a shitty way of trying to get someone to realize you have feelings for them and second of all, love is a pretty big word. You managing to carry it okay?” 

“Okay, maybe not love. But like? It has to be like. Say what you want to say but it looks different from the outside.” 

“Okay, you keep staying out there and let me know what you’re seeing. I like your imagination. Very vivid,” you commented but there was no bite to your words and Anna threw her head back with laughter. 

You didn’t think much of your exchange with Matthew throughout the rest of the day, nor did you try to linger too long on Anna’s interpretation of your relationship with Matthew. You let it wash over you, knowing it’d give her too much satisfaction if you fretted too much over it and anyway, many of your thoughts seemed to fly towards the evening’s game. 

By the time the two of you made your way to the arena, however, you moved from anxiety to excitement within the space of mere moments, apparently. Even if this wasn’t your first rodeo and you’d been to countless games before, there was nothing quite like the thrill of an opening game. You and Anna had spaces reserved in the upper stands along with other family members and significant others but both of you chose to watch the warm-ups close-up, so you hung around by the glass at ice level. 

The Vegas Knights and the Flames stepped on the ice to a combination of cheers and the thump of a loud electronic mix. You spotted your brother almost instantly. He did a quick lap around the team’s half of the ice before pulling a puck towards him with his stick, sliding it this way and that before shooting it over towards the net. Once sufficiently warmed up, he cast a searching look around the rink and you quickly waved both arms up in the air to try and get his attention. You knew he’d spotted you, but he made an entire show out of looking over you until you smacked a hand against the panel. You knew the sound wouldn’t be heard over the general noise of the arena, but he still laughed. When he skated over, you held your phone up, giving it a quick shake and mouthing “selfie?”. 

He flashed a thumbs up and you quickly turned around to take the photo, but it wasn’t until you inspected it afterwards that you noticed you were photobombed by Matthew himself. You had every intention to look up from the screen and somehow try and get his attention only to glare at him, but he was a step ahead. You almost jumped out of your skin when you noticed Matthew standing right there by the glass, smirking at you.

“Asshole,” you mouthed, not daring to voice it out given you were surrounded by kids.

Matthew winked, skated to collect a stray puck then threw it up over the boards towards one of the kids standing right next to you. The kid was clearly thrilled by the gesture, bouncing up and down with the puck held over his head as if it were a trophy. You couldn’t help it: your heart melted at the sight, so you simply nodded once at Matthew, apparently just in time as the warm-up countdown reached zero.

You weren’t surprised the home team were putting on such a show for the opening night. There was a little bit of Vegas in every opening act: from the fireworks set off outside the arena to the showgirls and mind-blowing animations projected down on the ice, it felt more of a Stanley Cup playoff game than the start of a regular season game. This was Vegas and no one did it quite like Vegas did, you had to give that to them. 

Both teams were almost evenly balanced throughout the first period but stepping out of intermissions and into the second, the Flames started powering ahead. It was as if something had clicked together even better and they functioned as a well-oiled machine, both in offence and defense. By the end of that period, they were leading the Knights 3-2 and you were more than elated your brother had earned himself an assist. Like all games, tensions formed quickly, and the third period saw both teams play aggressively. On several occasions, you caught sight of players clearly chirping each other even while heading towards their respective benches after the end of a shift. Once, Matthew seemed to be involved in a seemingly endless yelling match with a player on the opposing team. There were more checks against the panels, an impressive number of penalties drawn by both teams, and it felt as if the atmosphere was just tethering towards a fight.

It happened right after the Flames scored the fourth goal with just two minutes left of the game. 

The moment the puck was dropped at center ice, you watched as Matthew charged ahead towards one of the Knights players who didn’t hesitate to drop the gloves. Between them, Matthew had the faster instinct, and he landed the first punch, effectively forcing both players to fall to the ice while the referees scrambled to try and split them apart. They were there a moment too late, just mere seconds after you caught sight of knuckles scraping along Matthew’s mouth on the big screens above. At first, it seemed to be nothing more than a graze but once he was separated and made his way towards the Flames bench, you noticed several spots of blood on his jersey on the screens above that made you almost jump out of your seat.

Sure, this was a familiar sight, but it didn’t alleviate the sheer shock and restlessness. Whatever had happened between them must’ve been a pretty big deal to set Matthew off the way it did. There was no way of sugarcoating it: the fight was vicious. More than ever, you wanted the period countdown to reach zero so you could go down to the lockers. It wasn’t just a few nagging feelings towards Matthew that led you to react the way you did. He was a friend, after all, so worrying for him was simply natural. An expected way of responding to a situation like that. 

“He had it worse before, remember?” Anna reminded you as you followed the small stream of relatives and friends down towards the players’ rooms.

“Still looked pretty bad to me,” you responded, briefly pulling your lower lip between your teeth. Before she could continue being the voice of reason, you added in a light tone, “I just want to see if he had any teeth knocked out of his mouth this time around.”

It took some time before the players filed out and as you watched them come out one by one, you almost wished you saved this for somewhere less…well, public. Sure, you were just a friend checking on a friend, but you wished you could do that without an audience. 

Your brother emerged first, beaming, no doubt pleased with the win, and you hugged him tightly, easily sharing his joy. 

“He’s just getting ready to come out now,” he informed you, heading nodding back towards the locker.

You blinked. “What? Oh—no, I’m just. I was waiting for you to say congratulations. What are you even talking about,” you mumbled but inevitably, your eyes were drawn towards the locker room as the door swung open and Matthew stepped out.

His hair was still damp but already curling again. He was dressed in the same suit he probably arrived in, a simple light grey number that fit him perfectly. He had his backpack on also and in one hand, he carried an apparently ice-cold bottle of water while the other was pressing an ice pack to the corner of his mouth. When you made eye contact, he frowned lightly and for a moment, seemed almost hesitant to approach you. This time, you were a step ahead and cornered him before he decided to walk away.

You nodded your head once, indicating in his general direction. “What? You’re trying to add to the family’s hefty dentist bill by getting a few teeth knocked out already?”

Matthew shrugged. “It’s not hockey without a few scraps now and then.”

“For a guy who got a goal and an assist, you sure don’t look too pleased with that.” 

At that comment, Matthew’s expression shifted, lightening up considerably. “Are you keeping track of my stats now?”

“What? No, Tkachuk. I was doing what everyone else in that arena was doing: paying attention generally speaking.” 

Suddenly, his entire face scrunched up in pain and he almost doubled over as he groaned. Instinctively, you reached out for him, eyes widening a little when bending down a little to try and look at his face. 

“Oh my god—Matthew. Are you okay? Do you need me to get a medic to check—” 

You frowned as soon as you felt his shoulders tremble under your touch. Slowly, it dawned on you he was laughing. Laughing. You slapped his shoulder lightly, the gesture more a tap than anything else and you started walking down the corridor quickly, trying to catch up with everyone else as they filed out of the arena. 

“Hey, hey, wait, Y/N! Come on, don’t be mad,” he called out after you and you heard him jog to catch up with you. When he did, he took a couple more steps ahead then stepped in your path, walking backwards to match your pace. “I was only messing around. I couldn’t not do that. You should’ve seen your face, honestly.” 

“My face? Hope you’ve seen yours. I’m not mad. Me being mad would basically mean you managed to get to me which you really didn’t, so don’t give yourself any credit, Tkachuk,” you responded. “You just reminded me you’re still a dick so thanks for that.” 

“Give me a free pass. I’m injured.” 

“If you’re searching for sympathy, you’re looking for it in the wrong place,” you informed him, side stepping him so that he resumed walking at your side instead. After a few moments of silence, you conceded with a sigh. “Seriously speaking. How’s your mouth?”

“Don’t think I’ll need fillers, let’s just say.” He removed his hand from his mouth, and you looked over. 

Thankfully, it seemed that putting ice on it quickly was paying off. The area was somewhat red, but no significant damage seemed to be visible to the untrained eye. He was certainly miles better than he was just months ago. 

“Looks okay, I guess,” you shrugged. “What happened? Honestly, it looked pretty intense from the outside.” 

Matthew didn’t respond and you didn’t press him for details even after you stepped out into the balmy Vegas night. If he chose to not share with you, then you guessed it must’ve been either pretty personal or pretty stupid. You leaned more towards the former. You didn’t even complain when he followed you to the car you hired, claiming the passenger seat. Before you also stepped inside, a message pinged in from Anna informed you she had taken off with Johnny for dinner but promised to be back in the room in a few to catch up.

You didn’t start the engine when you fixed your seatbelt and instead, leaned your head back against the rest, watching a few other vehicles pull out of the car park. In his seat, Matthew was looking out of the window to his left, heading resting against a loosely formed fist propped up against the door. 

“He was talking shit about you,” he said at last, but didn’t turn to you when he spoke. 

“Who was?” 

“The guy on the other team. He made a comment about you towards your brother at the end of the shift. Something about… I don’t know, something crude, vulgar. Don’t really remember it.” 

You didn’t quite believe him on the last part, but you allowed it anyway. “Okay… Well, I don’t know the guy anyway, so it didn’t matter, Matthew. You should have let it slip by or left my brother to deal with it.” Then, out of curiosity, you asked, “why didn’t you?”

More silence. Occasionally, the muffled sound of a passing car would cut through it but it, too, would be gone in seconds.

“Because I couldn’t.”

You pursed your lips and your fingers clenched then unclenched in your lap. You placed your hands on the steering wheel, then dropped them away before settling them back on it after starting the engine. 

“Thanks, I guess. You just keep making me owe you favors.”

“You don’t owe me—”

“So, I’ll clear that now with dinner. Just please don’t tell me you’re going to need to be on a smoothie diet. I’ll feel bad eating something really good while you’re there with a strawberry and banana drink. Not that I’d stop eating though, just so you know. But it’s the thought that counts,” you said and finally, finally he chuckled quietly. 

“No smoothie diets this time.”

You sighed dramatically. “Maybe no smoothie diets ever?”

Matthew shrugged. He was still not meeting your eyes but that was okay. “Can’t promise that. Kind of comes with the job. Just in case though, I like the sweeter stuff more. Triple chocolate, Oreo pieces, peanut butter.” 

“Thanks, Matthew. I’ll file that under information I don’t care to know about.” 

“I’m injured. Show some sympathy,” he demanded without heat, finally turning to you. 

You cooed then reached out with one of your hands to pat his cheek lightly. “Aw, really searching for it in the wrong place.”

“I’ll make do with what I can get,” he allowed, and you could swear he leaned into your touch, but you tore your hand away before either of you got too comfortable. 

four.

Matthew called in his favor after a few of his teammates agreed where to host their Halloween party. 

“Kind of sounds like you’re the one asking for a favor,” you commented, planting yourself at your kitchen table while securing the phone between your ear and shoulder.

Matthew sighed on the other end. “Sort of. Who does a themed Halloween party anyway? The theme itself is Halloween.” 

“You’re not wrong about that. Could be fun though, a bit more unique. So, what’s the theme for this year?” 

“Couple outfits,” Matthew replied without hesitation. 

You stilled and were grateful he wasn’t in the same room as you. It took you a great deal more energy over the course of the past few months to convince yourself that Matthew didn’t attract you in one way or another. His looks aside, it was rare you came across someone who could easily keep up with your snide remarks and the more you got to know him, the more you realized that there was more to Matthew than just being a typical athlete with his share of well-deserved fame. He was funny, dedicated and undoubtedly, caring. You had some first-hand experience with the latter. After all, he didn’t owe you anything to make him obligated to jump into whatever weird situation you found yourself in.

You warmed to him little by little. If you found him attractive, well that was for you alone to know though it made everything just that more difficult. Thankfully, Matthew seemed pretty oblivious to it or at least, he was doing a good job at pretending he didn’t catch you staring at him on several occasions or the few times you took a discrete step back if it felt like you were too close to him. Knowing he was asking you to go together as a couple (pretend couple, you corrected yourself) only added to the difficulty of coming to terms with your…crush. 

Puppy love, you assured yourself. It’ll go as quickly as it came. 

“Y/N?”

“Sorry, still here. Guess it sucks another year will go by without the opportunity to bring out your Fortnite costume.”

“Oh, come on. I wouldn’t dress like a game character!”

“Matthew,” you warned.

There was a pause, then, “okay, fine. Maybe I would. So, can you come?” 

You shrugged, then remembered he couldn’t see it. “I owe it to you, don’t I?”

“Great! Hey, choose something good for us. There’s going to be a prize for best dressed and I have my eyes on it.”

“I think we can both agree my creativity will not let us down. I’ll text you my idea. You just make sure you actually stick to it, so I don’t end up looking stupid.”

“Don’t worry,” he started, “I won’t dump you on Halloween.”

“Good to know I won’t end up traumatized and have my favorite holiday ruined,” you said, by way of goodbye.

-

“Hey, spin around for me once. You look good. Blonde’s not bad on you.” 

“No color’s bad on me,” you responded but refused to entertain Matthew by complying with his request. Instead, you rang the bell to Noah’s apartment after the door didn’t budge when Matthew tried the handle. 

“Come on, just a spin,” Matthew insisted, nudging his elbow into your own then pressed the doorbell himself once again – hard, as if that would make it ring louder.

“Only if you dance for me and do the entire Greased Lightning choreography without missing a step.” 

Matthew feigned a groan and you shot him an amused look. Before you could even comment on that, the door opened, and Noah stood at the threshold. The ruckus from inside spilled out into the corridor and from what you could see beyond him, it was a full house of all sorts of characters. 

“Wow! Sandy and Danny! Finally, someone with really good taste,” Noah said by way of greeting and he looked towards you pointedly. 

You flashed him a grin. “Always a pleasure to exceed expectations,” you responded and stepped into his open arms, a clear invitation for an embrace that was shortly broken apart by Matthew.

“Hey, none of that man,” he said, pulling you back and easily holding most of your weight as you broke into a laugh that had you stumbling into his side. “I didn’t even get to tell her she’s the one that I want.” 

“Yeah, well, you better shape up ‘cause I need a man,” you responded, without missing a beat though you couldn’t help but replay his words in your mind. They sounded a lot like a broken record that you desperately wished to stop immediately before this…thing went way too far and spun out of control.  

You were both led towards a photo wall and if you had any nerves about striking good poses without at least some liquid courage first, all that vanished. To your surprise, Matthew easily took the lead initially, falling to his knees in front of you in an attempt to recreate the part where a smitten Danny fell before Sandy, completely and utterly overwhelmed by her presence. Despite it being difficult to control your laughter, you played along with ease. At first, you were simply grinning down at him but you couldn’t let all his in-character effort go to waste, so you turned, casting a glance down towards him over your shoulder. To your side, Noah’s flash was going off every few seconds as he tried to capture the two of you from the best angle, together with cheers of encouragement. For your second pose, you rested your arms on Matthew’s shoulders once he rose back to his full height and his hands held on to either side of your torso. Again, the flash went off and again, the two of you changed pose into something more casual: him, standing behind you with his palms on your hips while you place a hand on his face, grinning at the camera. The flash went off again and he whooped loudly.

“I’m never inviting both of you to a party with this theme again,” Noah muttered, feigning disgruntlement. “You can’t come into my home and kill it like that.” 

“Blame the one who came up with this idea in the first place,” Matthew defended, holding both hands up in the air in a gesture of innocence. 

It was true. The idea to dress as Danny and Sandy from Grease came to you fairly quickly. You knew the two were a popular go-to, but you enjoyed the movie greatly. Plus, it was a great opportunity for you to pull out a pair of red heels you invested a hefty sum of money into. And, well, admittedly there was something about Matthew that made you think he’d suit the role just fine. When you shared your idea with him, he was on board from the start without complaining or suggesting alternatives. You were grateful for that: when Matthew picked you up earlier, dressed in an all-black outfit, leather jacket and hair styled to rival John Travolta’s, you gave yourself a mental pat on your shoulder. If any photos would go up on the internet, you were pretty sure Instagram would be grateful to you. Certainly, you knew Chantal and Keith would get a kick out of it for sure.

“Guilty as charged,” you acknowledged. “I’m going to look for Anna. Catch you later.” You gave a wave to the both of them before making your way towards the hub of activity where couple costumes ranged from peanut butter and jelly to superheroes. 

She was fairly easy to locate, in part because she told you she and Johnny would dress as Wonder Woman and Steve Trevor. The red, blue and gold of her outfit were unmissable even in a sea of costumes. As soon as she spotted you approaching, she made a beeline and wrapped an arm around yours.

“Tell me you and Matthew will recreate the entire You’re the One That I Want scene,” she pleaded. “Please tell me that at some point this evening, you’ll tell us to clear the dancefloor so the two of you can have your moment.”

You rolled your eyes, dragging her along towards a table hosting drinks and small bites. “There’s no moment we’re going to be having.” 

“Because you don’t want to or because you want to so badly that you don’t know how to ask him? I’m pretty sure he’ll say yes.” 

“Neither,” you muttered but even you’d be able to hear the lack of conviction in your tone from a mile away. 

To take your mind off it, you poured yourself a glass of red wine, taking a tentative sip from it. Across the room, Matthew had deposited his black leather jacket away and started making rounds around the room. You took a longer sip from your wine and looked away. 

Anna fixed you with a knowing stare which you refused to acknowledge, but she knew you like the back of her hand. “It’s okay to say you like him, you know,” she advised, and you hated the soothing tone she tried to take when saying that. It felt more pitying than anything, as if you hadn’t already had your share of disappointments in love—or, relationships better said. 

“Who said anything about liking him? He’s not bad to look at I’ll admit, but that’s where it stops.” You frowned, looking out of the nearest nearby window that gave a broad view of the city below. “That’s where I want it to stop,” you admitted, this time quieter. 

You were well aware that you were occasionally trying to look for a narrative that was most convenient for late night thoughts when you had the peace and privacy to think of him as you wished. The reality couldn’t be more different, though, and you knew that. Matthew was helpful to you before because he was good friends with your brother and eventually, you realized that it was just part of his nature. Beyond being successful, beyond his fame and recognition, Matthew was kind and funny and respectful. It was just that you didn’t give him the chance to before and now that you got to know him better, you suddenly realized that…what? You’d like the first man who gives you a helping hand? If that were the case, you should’ve gotten the memo sooner: it would’ve been easier liking the tech guy from work who once debugged your laptop.

It wasn’t doing you any good to try and look for a ‘but’ in every situation: Matthew is helpful because he’s good friends with my brother but it’s not like that should force him to act as if we’re romantically involved not once or twice or thrice but now, four times. Regardless of how you looked at it, that reeked of desperation. You were in that weird period in your life where it felt as if everyone around you was in a relationship, so maybe that mood translated to you. 

That’s right, you settled. That’s what was possibly behind these thoughts of yours. You found Matthew attractive – and what? So did plenty of other people. You saw him surrounded by girls after practice, after matches, while out. What you felt was nothing special. It felt easier to think of it that way, even if for a few hours to truly enjoy the party without having that lurking at the back of your mind. 

You mingled easily, danced with Anna, danced with other players’ girlfriends and wives, danced with your brother, even attempted a few traditional Russian dances taught by Nikita, Artyom and a few of their friends, that left you breathless by their rapid pace and intricate footwork. 

“I’m done!” you declared, breathless and almost swaying on your feet when another Russian folk song came to an end but thankfully, you managed to hold steady before you could catch a ride on the hot mess express. “Absolutely wasted. Knocked out.” You stepped away, tired but euphoric and dropped rather unceremoniously on one of the available couches pushed against a wall. 

“Having fun?” Matthew asked and there was a light flush on his cheeks you knew wasn’t from dancing. There was even just a slight slur to his speech.

“The most,” you replied, breathless, and accepted the drink he held out to you. You took a sip without questioning him what was in the glass, only to find out for yourself he was settling for harder stuff tonight. “But never let it be said that anyone can keep up with Russians because let me tell you,” you whistled quietly, “we’re a couple of steps behind. Plenty of steps behind, actually.” 

Matthew flashed a lazy smile and you briefly spared a moment to envy him for how kept together he remained despite being evidently buzzed. “’s okay. At least we’re the better dressed ones so we lose in style.” 

You took another sip from his glass, holding it out to him with a smirk. “Tell me about it, stud,” you said in what you hoped was a low, alluring tone of voice but no sooner did you think that, and you were reduced to embarrassed laughter. “Forget about that! Forget it, forget it! Where’s the delete button?” 

“I didn’t come equipped with that,” he declared proudly, finishing off what was left of his drink. “C’mere, you can show me a couple of those steps you learned.” 

He stood, a little unsteadily initially then held a hand to you. You knew he wouldn’t have the strength to pull you up properly, so you stood easily fully intent to actually lead him through some of the steps. Except, Matthew was definitely swaying more than you thought he would. There was something inexplicably amusing about the situation and instead of directing him towards the center of the room, you steered him away from it and towards a small bathroom you were shown to earlier that night when you needed some time to re-touch your makeup. 

“Where’re we going?” he asked curiously, looking over his shoulder towards the living room with a look that could only be read as longing. 

“To cool down a little and then you can learn as many folk dances as you want. Believe me, you need to be alert for them. Can’t miss a step,” you advised, trying to steady him by wrapping an arm around him though the difference in weight between the two of you couldn’t compare. Still, you managed to get him into the bathroom safely without either of you making a mess of yourselves or the room. 

“Are you gonna cool down too?” he questioned. 

“Sure thing, definitely need it.” 

“Good, we’ll cool down together.” With that, he made a move to open the glass partition for the shower cubicle but thankfully, you were significantly more alert than he was and managed to prevent him from doing anything more than that.

“Not that sort of cool down. Here, sit here,” you encouraged, lowering the lid on the toilet so Matthew could drop down. You doubted you’d be able to hold much of his strength above the sink if you were to help him splash some cold water on his face.

“But I want that sort of cool down,” he slurred. “With you. Us two. You said you want to cool down too. Could be a couple activity.” He grinned, as if proud of himself. 

Thankfully, Matthew was buzzed enough to miss the flush on your face, the slight shake of your hand as you arranged a towel around his neck to prevent too much overspill before turning the tap on. 

“Can’t do that, Matthew. Here, this will be much better, I promise.” 

“Wanna try though,” he mumbled but was still compliant as you pressed a wet, cool palm against his forehead, then either of his cheeks. “Not cool enough.” His complaint was accompanied by a frown which only morphed into a lazy smirk when he leaned back, trying to pull you with him. “C’mon, Y/N. It’s a couple’s Halloween night.” 

“Matthew, we’re not a couple,” you said gently, pushing your palms against his shoulders in an attempt to free yourself from his hold. Before it was too late. Before you allowed yourself to get drawn into a drunk man’s ramblings. 

“But I wanna be. A couple, with you.” 

You put all your strength into breaking away from his hold and thankfully, managed to do so. Your heart was hammering in your chest as if desperately trying to release itself from the cage of your ribs. 

“Matthew, you’re drunk. Here, splash some cold water on your face so you can come back to your senses.” 

“But I’m not drunk,” he insisted and as if to demonstrate, he stood up quickly. He swayed on the spot, stretching out his arms a little and once he found his footing, he looked towards you with an expression that mixed pride with hopefulness. “See? Definitely okay—”

You frowned, feeling a little caged in. You should’ve left the door open at least. “Okay, then let’s go back out there, yeah? I can get an Uber and I’ll take you home if you prefer that?” 

“Yes,” he said, then leaned back against the door. “Only if you come with me.” 

You exhaled, suddenly tired as if the exchange was working every ounce of energy out of you. “I’ll come to make sure you’re okay and can make it to your bed okay.”

“I can though. I can definitely make it there even on my own and you know why? Because I’m not drunk,” Matthew insisted and when you shot him a look of disbelief, he peeled himself away from the door. “Look, look I can prove it to you I’m not drunk.” 

Before you could even ask him to walk a straight line without stumbling his steps, Matthew’s arm wrapped around your waist while his other hand pressed on the back of your head, bringing you closer until your lips met. Kissing Matthew was like everything you imagined and more. He even did that with the same passion with which he skated on ice, chasing puck after puck. It left you breathless how well he worked his lips against your own as if all along, he knew how to do that in such way that it’d leave your legs feeling like jelly. Beyond that though, it felt comfortable. Not forceful despite him having not asked if he could do it in the first place, yet it still felt right. You tasted sweetness on his mouth and the sharp tang of whiskey. Vaguely, you knew nothing else could compare. It was that thought that made you push away from him with as much force as you could muster, ducking under his arm and towards the door. 

“I’ll ask someone to take you home,” you said without even looking his way before leaving dashing out of the bathroom.

“You okay?” Anna asked you when you ran into her. Quite literally. 

“Uh—yeah. No, actually. I think I feel a bit unwell so I’m going to head home, okay?” 

You made a move to leave but her arm stopped you. “Hey. Are you sure you’re okay?” 

Above her shoulder, you saw Matthew emerge from the bathroom, a little dazzled, eyes searching the room. Before he could even spot you, you quickly freed yourself from her hold and nodded. “Will be. I’ll text you when I get home. Don’t rush back, okay? Tell Alex I said thanks for the invite.” 

You didn’t stumble a step in your heels as you jogged towards the door, making a swift exit before you attracted even more attention.

+ one.

Matthew left no calls and no messages, but that was fine. You didn’t spend time trying to build your expectations of anything like that happening because drunk words weren’t always sober thoughts. The event was just something you had to deal with and if you had to do it alone, then so be it. Reasonably speaking, you and Matthew went from nothing to friends and if you caught feelings along the way, then that was your mistake for letting yourself slip like that. You were left broken hearted once, you really didn’t want to go through that again especially over someone that wasn’t even really and truly yours to begin with.

So, the next morning, you woke up at a reasonably early hour despite the late night but felt energized enough to sweep through your apartment and collect the garments you tossed carelessly on your way to bed after arriving at home. You said a heartfelt goodbye to Sandy, apologizing that in this scenario, her and Danny didn’t end up driving off in a red convertible. After that, you showered and changed in a fresh set of clothes even if the day would most likely be spent indoors. It was a fitting conclusion to the Halloween weekend, and you could do with some downtime, really.

Anna must’ve stayed with Johnny because regardless of how much noise you made, she didn’t emerge from the room and after fixing a quick breakfast and brewing coffee to continued silence, you knew you were right. It didn’t bother you. You’d make full use of the couch and stretch out on it properly as you flicked through your Netflix account and for the sake of sticking to weekend morning traditions, you selected a lighthearted sitcom. You were halfway through the third episode when your doorbell rang. You could’ve sworn Anna had a spare key of her own unless she misplaced it or forgot it home. Not entirely out of question.

Except, it wasn’t Anna who greeted you when you opened the door.

“Oh.” You coughed lightly, crossing your arms then unfolding them, then leaning one against the doorway before dropping it to your side. “Hey—uh. Hey Tkachuk, isn’t it a bit early for you to be out and about? You were smashed the last time I saw you.” 

Matthew looked over your shoulder into the apartment, as if checking to see if you were alone. “Can I come in?” 

Defeated, you stepped to the side and cleared the way for him to step inside before pushing the door closed. Part of you wished you’d dressed up as if you were ready to head off somewhere. You weren’t quite ready nor willing to face whatever music Matthew had in mind for you. 

In the aftermath of the party, out of the flashiness of the costume, Matthew seemed to be perfectly clear-headed despite the state you’d left him in. The curls atop his head seemed soft despite the natural frizz and as he passed by, you caught a whiff of sharp cologne and fresh bodywash. 

“Is Anna here?”

“Are we playing twenty-one questions?” 

“No?”

“Kind of sounds like it, though?” You laughed quietly, trying to lighten the mood. It was bad enough the weather outside was gloomy, autumn settling in full force. Now, you had to deal with a Matthew who looked as if he wasn’t sure he came to the right place. “Coffee?” you asked, already leading the way towards the kitchen. You heard him follow behind you just moments later. While you poured a full cup for him, he hovered by the table, making you frown at him. “What’s wrong with you? You need an invite to sit down and relax? Seriously, Matthew, you look like you should be in bed.” 

“You left last night without saying anything,” he said instead. 

“Uh—yeah. I was kind of tired and I wanted it to call it a night early so—”

“Was it because of what I said or what I did?” 

You almost dropped the coffee cup, but fortunately only startled enough for the liquid to slosh over the rim and down the back of your hand, causing you to hiss in pain. You cursed quietly and, in an instant, Matthew crossed over the room and took the cup from you, setting it down on the table before leading you towards the sink. As if used to this, he placed your hand under ice cold water and once the sharp pain numbed, you pushed his hand away, taking a step to the side in an attempt to put more distance between you. 

“It’s fine, I’ve got this,” you mumbled, holding your hand still under the jet for a few more seconds before closing it.

It was hardly worth the fuss, but it gave you a reason to make yourself busy with something other than freaking out. It couldn’t be that he remembered anything. It couldn’t be that he was standing in your kitchen, thinking that it was a good idea to just open up that subject when you were so ready to take a shovel to it and bury it six feet under. 

“Didn’t you get tired of it at all?” he tried again.

“Tired of what?”

“Of pretending. Of only acting like we’re together for one reason or the other—”

“Matthew, I asked you only once and you know why. I apologized then but if it helps you sleep better at night, I’ll apologize again for dragging you into my mess. I don’t know what the point is of this discussion—”

“The point,” he said, raising his voice but only to cut through your speech. “The point is that I’m tired of it. I’m tired of having to be by your side and pretend. It got to a stage where I don’t even know what’s real and what isn’t, and I feel as if the only time I’ll know that for sure will be when you find someone, so you no longer need to turn to me to pretend.” 

“Matthew, I’m not using you, if that’s what you’re thinking. You’re coming at me with this out of the blue and I don’t even understand what this is all about,” you argued, waving a hand between the two of you. 

Matthew clenched his jaw. You watched as he flexed it and his eyebrows furrowed. “Do you need me to spell it out for you again? I thought I was pretty straightforward about what I want last night.” 

“You were drunk last night, is what you were. You could hardly put a foot in front of the other.” 

“You know that’s not true,” he retorts, lifting his arms then dropping them back down to his sides. “I was sober enough to know damn well what I said and why I said it. If you want to keep pretending even now, even at this point, then you go ahead and do that but let me be clear with you again and you take what you want from it: I don’t want to pretend with you anymore. I want to be with you. You want to know what that feels like? It feels a lot like being so close to something you want, literally having that thing dangled right in front of you only to have it snatched just when you think it’s yours. Me kissing you last night? I’m sorry I forced it on you, I could’ve gone about doing it differently but I’m not sorry for what I feel. That was all me and not the alcohol. So, you take this and do what you want with it.”

You stared at him, disbelieving your ears. It wouldn’t surprise you if that was the case: you did wake up surprisingly refreshed even after an emotionally charged night, so for all you knew, you could be dreaming this. 

“Matthew, what are you—That’s, you’re kidding me with this right? You can’t. You can’t possibly think that.” 

“And why not?”

“Because it doesn’t make sense. Are you even hearing yourself talk?” 

“Why doesn’t it make sense? Want me to go about it differently? If you let me pull your hair, I’ll let you push me in the sandbox.” 

You were suffering from a strange, ill-timed case of déjà vu. Part of you wanted to laugh at the situation but the bigger part of you triumphed, thankfully. You released a breath you had been holding, bringing both hands up to cover your face, taking some moments to yourself. Or perhaps, you’d lost track of time because eventually, you heard Matthew sigh and felt his fingers wrap around each wrist though he didn’t put pressure to tug your hands down from your face.

“Sorry. I’m just—I’m not doing this the right way. I don’t want it to seem like I’m forcing my feelings on you and that you should accept them. If I misread us—you at any point, then fine. Just, we can drop it here and I’ll deal with it but—”

You shook your head slowly. “No, I just need a moment. Sorry. You really caught me by surprise. I didn’t… I thought everything you said last night…what you did… I thought that was just, well, just the alcohol. So, I did the best thing I knew to do and, uh, left.”

“Drunk words, sober thoughts,” he reminded you quietly and this time, you dropped your hands away from your face so you could look up at him. 

He was so handsome. Ridiculously handsome in his casual clothes. Briefly, you thought back to the time you first found safety in his arms and wondered if maybe… Well, why not. You closed the distance between the two of you, wrapping your arms around him, fingers clinging to the thick material of his hoodie while you faceplanted against his chest and breathed him in.

You liked Matthew. You liked Matthew so much that the admission overwhelmed you so much that you squeezed him to you, trying desperately to bring him closer. The gesture seemed to prompt him into action, and he returned the hug, pressing a kiss to the top of your head and then to the base of your throat once he’d lowered his head there. 

“Me too. I want to be with you too. Really be with you. No more of this pretend stuff,” you told him, your voice muffled against his body, but you knew he caught every word.

He chuckled, the sound low and deep, sending shivers down your spine. “We won Noah’s competition last night.”

“Bet he did it because of your long face,” you commented, unable to help yourself. “What did we win?” 

Matthew made a move to step back, but you clung to him, much to your embarrassment. It seemed as if your body acted out of sync with your mind, but who could blame it when Matthew stood right there, right before you. Turned out he only took a step back to lift you off your feet and instinctively, you wrapped your legs around his hips, arms resting loosely around his neck. You leaned in and pressed a fleeting kiss to his mouth as he stumbled away from the kitchen while you stole another kiss. And then, just because you could, a third. 

“A voucher to a seafood restaurant,” he informed you, breaking into a laugh when you groaned, throwing your head back in sheer frustration even if you had a strong feeling he was only messing with you.

“Remind me to never put so much effort if that’s what the stake are.” 

“Noted. Next time, I’ll tell you we could just stay home for Halloween and play by our rules. Outfits optional. Probably not recommended.” 

“That’s…really not what I said.” 

“I’m reading between the lines. See? We know each other so well.” 

You laughed as he carried you all the way into your room without even as much as breaking a sweat. That was definitely some food for thought at a later point.

[dizzydennis]

Sonic x Metal Sonic Cover Story!

Translator note: I am not totally fluent in Japanese so please understand that my translations are not perfect, but I hope you can enjoy this fun story. Any constructive criticism is appreciated.

Deep within Dr. Eggman’s abandoned, secret lab... a robot connected to a database booted up made note of the current situation. The evaluation was as followed:

[[Current status... "unfavorable"]]

While this robot was in rest for maintenance, Dr. Eggman was once again defeated by Sonic. Yet again, “he” was unable to rush to protect his master from crisis.

The same amount of bitterness stirred inside him... or perhaps even more.

It longed for the opportunity to defeat Sonic.

This mechanical piece of intelligence was known as “Metal Sonic” and it was created for the sole purpose of destroying Sonic. It continued to analyze the situation:

[[Current status is "unfavorable"]]

☆ ★ ☆

"Speed ​​Highway" is a super-three-dimensional highway that runs through a plethora of high-rise buildings.

It has many acceleration lanes such as the “360-degree rotating loop” that rises to the sky and a corkscrew that stretches into a large spiral. It attracts the souls of speed enthusiasts everywhere!

Sonic was running around in good spirits as he hummed to himself.

CRASH!!

Suddenly, something attacked Sonic head-on! He barely avoided it as the road just ahead turned into a pile of rubble from such a shattering impact. Sonic let out a gleeful grin.

“I’m worried. You didn’t damage yourself with that stunt, did ya, Metal?”

It was, in fact, Metal Sonic that stood up from the rubble.

Metal gave a piercing, sharp gaze towards Sonic. Within a second, he quickly closed the gap between the two of them while pointing his left hand to Sonic.

“Hey! Isn’t that--!?”

It was the flickering of a Chaos Emerald. Metal’s other hand pointed to the innermost parts of Speed Highway. It was unwavering.

Sonic instantly understood what Metal Sonic meant.

“You’re gonna bet that in a competition against me? That doesn’t seem very fair now, does it?”

Sonic then took out his all of the Chaos Emeralds he had on him.

“Alright, Metal! This is for real then. All or nothing!”

In an instant, two blue shadows dashed out onto the street, illuminated by the lights of the skyscrapers at dusk. The race that moved faster than the speed of sound had begun!

☆ ★ ☆

As the sound barrier was broken, the rush of wind echoed through the elevated roads that were cast as a valley between the buildings.

A corkscrew twisted down from a 360-degree loop as it curved to the right and then to the left. It then went into a spiral that took them up and down and all around.

Sonic lightly traced across the road’s surface as he felt enthralled by the difficult course of the Speed Highway. Metal Sonic was able to glide across the road with the use of a jet engine.

The race continued with the two hedgehogs barely gaining a step on each other, but a big change occurred in the middle of the course. A super long and sharp curve came out after a speedy decent. Metal Sonic decided to engage in some close combat before this area.

He boosted forward as his body entered this shocking, electromagnetic state. It was a sudden attack, but Sonic was able to avoid it. He must have read his moves. Metal Sonic’s energy output temporarily dropped at the end of the boost as he slowed down; just as planned. He could clear the curve with just the right amount of speed. Sonic had to slow down here too and Metal Sonic had nothing to lose!

Everything was going fine, but at that moment, Sonic was speeding up and approaching fast. Metal Sonic’s thoughts became fragmented if only for a moment.

[[......!?]]

Sonic, as he started to tumble off the side of the course due to his great speed, had put his hand out and grabbed Metal Sonic’s head, curved inward, and accelerated towards the inner-section of the course. He pushed Metal downwards and perfectly made the curve.

“My bad!”

Metal Sonic, who managed to regain his posture, raised his face, he saw Sonic running far ahead.

Metal Sonic tried to analyze the situation

[[Current status... "unfavorable"]]

☆ ★ ☆

Metal Sonic continued to analyze everything while giving chase. He had never won again Sonic ever since their first battle. He was built for the best performance and had a tireless, steel body. There were many factors of his creation that should have meant he was unbeatable.

But I can never win.

Why? Why... it’s just a hedgehog that runs fast...

Right at that moment,

A buzz of electricity rippled through the robot’s AI and it’s train of thought.

Is it because it’s not just “fast.”

 [[............!]]

Why was this robot made to resemble Sonic?

Perhaps, the creator, Dr. Eggman, created this body simply to not waste time creating it, but to also be a replacement to Sonic.

It was created for that specific purpose. There’s something that had to be done.

Metal cut all non-essential parts such as “fire control” and the “electromagnetic spark capacitors.” All systems were set on full power to “Speed.” Metal sharpened and gutted himself on the inside.

A moment later, a creature of blue steel, which had become the pure concept of a new “Metal Sonic” began to chase after Sonic the Hedgehog.

☆ ★ ☆

Meanwhile, Sonic had already taken notice that something had changed with Metal Sonic. The distance between them was gradually getting shorter.

Metal Sonic was purely a machine. There’s no way to know what it could even be thinking about. However, Sonic could sometimes tell. He could sense Metal Sonic’s joy, willpower, and unhealthy obsession towards victory.

“Looks like things are heating up!”

Sonic sped up even more, with a serious expression, muttered words of amazement while suppressing a grin that was continuously rising to his mouth.

“Heh, you don’t feel like you’re getting burned out?”

It was a straight line from the left-twisting, half-corkscrew to the goal. Below, you could see the surface of the city piercing upwards. The two blue streaks sped up the outside of a vertical skyscraper.

The goal was just around the corner. Sonic was in the lead.

Metal Sonic’s AI became fully aware at this point. It would not win at this rate.

How can it win!? Perhaps it could increase the output from the jet propulsion unit a little more, but where there even enough resources to do so...!?

☆ ★ ☆

"...?"

Just a few hundred meters from the goal.

Right then, Sonic couldn’t understand what happened.

Metal Sonic pulled out to Sonic at an impossibly fast speed! A dazzling seven-colored light erupted from Metal’s chest as a bright red flame with black smoke gushed out of the jet exhaust hole on his back. Parts and debris flew off of him in a violent roar.

“Metal...!?”

That’s right. Metal Sonic absorbed and utilized Chaos Energy! However, the power of the Chaos Emeralds was not stable and was very uncontrollable.

While speeding ahead, Metal lost his balance and collapsed.

Upon seeing this, Sonic tried to call out...

In a single moment, Metal was swallowed the the seven bright lights as they were then engulfed by smoke. Metal Sonic turned into a glowing red bulb.

The explosion sent an impact out that knocked Sonic back. As he looked up to the sky...

Against the backdrop of the night sky, Metal Sonic’s scattered body parts, which drew a trail of red flames alongside shimmering shards of window glass seemed to fly by in slow motion.

For a single moment, Sonic thought it was strangely beautiful.

Immediately after, Sonic got to his feet while being shocked at the explosion sounds that came soon after. When suddenly...

Metal Sonic’s upper body, which only had the torso, head, and right arm attached had crashed to the floor. As it made attempts to crawl towards the goal. The efforts proved too exhausting as he soon stopped dead in his tracks... just 10 meters away.

Shortly after, Sonic begrudgingly crossed the finish line; putting this little game to an end.

A Chaos Emerald flew towards Sonic. As he caught it, he looked back with a unique and serious expression. Metal Sonic had tossed the emerald with the last of his power.

[[......!!]]

Metal Sonic jumped to restrain Sonic as he approached with his fiery eyes.

Sonic felt as if Metal Sonic was saying that it’s impossible for two people to have crossed the finish line.

The damage that Metal Sonic had taken wasn’t as bad as Sonic had expected.

Sonic spoke in his usual tone, feeling uncomfortable with how relieved the situation felt.

“It was a good race.”

As Sonic let out his remarks, he never turned back and said,

“I’ll be waiting for a rematch.”

☆ ★ ☆

The defeated Metal Sonic was analyzing the current situation.

This time, it was an utter defeat.

Metal tried to re-calibrate all of his resources, but still couldn’t win.

Metal Sonic tried to sharpen his strengths, but it was all too late. In the end, he lacked a way to channel his resources and self-destructed.

....However,

it should be noted that an unprecedented performance was achieved this time.

 Even with the final Chaos Emerald, considering that the race would have been lost regardless, it wasn’t necessarily a bad move... but a more detailed analysis is to be postponed.

A rescue signal was already issued. Aid was available and recovery could be achieved at Eggman’s base. If Metal connected to the base’s main computer and analyzed today’s data, he can definitely win next time. There is room to not only improve speed, but also inhibitory behaviors and attack patterns.

I can still reach a tier of being and there will others who can surpass or fall victim to that tier!

At the moment, Metal Sonic was forced into a deep sleep mode due to a drop in his voltage energy. His ability to think dropped rapidly and Metal Sonic obtained an analysis result that was unbiased and unemotional.

 [[Status is... “favorable."]] 

[rwprincess]

OK!! HI- I’m the person who wondered if you did make fics because fred :}} I was wondering if you could try fred and a male reader that is sorta his enemy but like a enemy to lovers sorta thing!!! (if you can’t do male go for gn we love gn reader appreciation <3)

Masterlist

Word Count: 2.7K

Request: Anon- ”OK!! HI- I’m the person who wondered if you did make fics because fred :}} I was wondering if you could try fred and a male reader that is sorta his enemy but like a enemy to lovers sorta thing!!! (if you can’t do male go for gn we love gn reader appreciation <3) “

A/N: I really appreciate your request, anon. And I liked the challenge, but I’m not sure I served you well. I really struggled with this piece. :/

Synopsis: You and Fred used to be best friends, but you drifted apart. When he has to interview you after a heroic basketball win, he learns that it wasn’t just a friendly falling out.

CW:  Homophobia cuz it’s the 80s (internalized homophobia, worry/concern about acceptance); unresolved-ish ending?; angry, angsty (angstry?) Fred;  I’m assuming inaccuracies because I don’t actually know sports/basketball

It was impossible to pinpoint the exact moment of the falling out between you and Fred. Maybe it was a gradual series of events that widened the chasm of your friendship, a cliff that he fell off headfirst into and one you never looked back from. If he had to guess, he'd say it was the end of freshman year that really clenched it, but you'd been distant for awhile. You no longer needed the security of an old friend and reinvented yourself, fitting into a new crowd that didn't include him. 

He watched with passive, but seething irritation as you sank another shot into the basket. He loathed newspaper assignments that led him here to report on you and the teammates you had left him for. What he hated more was that you were actually good at it. You'd found your niche and he'd found his, so he shouldn't be bitter. But he was. The two of you used to share everything and he could always count on you. And now you were here with the other neanderthals and sports maniacs, people you used to make fun of together. Sometimes people change, he thought, and lamented the fact.

Another netted swish, another victorious roar from his replacements on your behalf. Fred swallowed thickly, drowning his anxious nausea down into the pit of his stomach, pushing it down, down, until it was something he could walk on and hopefully ignore. He always protested these assignments, but he could never reveal the real reason why: he missed you. It was an ever-present gnawing loss and it was impossible to mourn because you weren't actually gone. He saw you every day, thriving without him. 

Fred turned away from looking at you, that betrayed feeling bubbling up, and turned to say something to Nancy, who was accompanying him on this venture. However, she was no longer standing close enough to hear one of his snarky remarks. His eyes panned the gym for her, and spotted her leaning against the bleacher railing’s outside, looking positively green. Oh, shit.

“Hey, uh…Nancy? Are you okay?” He approached her and could see the sweat beading on her face, which she shook quickly in response.

“No…I. I think I’m going to be sick. I’m sorry, Fred. But you’re going to have to do this.” She shoved her notebook clumsily into his hands and bolted out the doors with a heavy clang, too quick to hear his desperate pleas to the contrary. Fred thought he had lucked out in asking Nancy to come and do the interview for him. At first, he tried to be aloof and acted as though he just didn’t want to do another sports interview, but when she started to refuse and put the work back on him, he desperately explained that he specifically couldn’t talk to you.

“Please, Nancy. We were friends a long time ago and I don’t even know why we stopped being friends, but I don’t think he wants to talk to me. And I sure as hell don’t want to interview him.” He’d left out the part where you left him specifically to join the team, which added another layer of insult to the injury of abandonment in the first place. At the time, Nancy had taken pity on him and agreed to do the interview, as long as Fred did the bulk of the play-by-plays. But now, she was clearly out of commission and he’d have to do it himself. 

As the final buzzer rang and your team celebrated, Fred gave himself his own sort of pep-talk. “It’s your duty as a reporter. They trust you to get the story. Whether you like the assignment or not, you have to get the story.” He continued muttering to himself in a near-chant as he paced the gym, patrons spilling out the doors and back into the real world. 

“Fred?” Your voice shattered his concentration and completely obliterated his goal. He stopped mid-stride and turned towards you. Freshly showered, the loose and sleeveless uniform tank ditched for a clean hooded sweatshirt under a denim jacket. You felt hot and flushed, and doubted it was from the multiple layers or the exhilaration of the game.

“Hi. I’m your interviewer.” He replied, curtly, cutting to the chase.

“I thought---”

“Nancy got sick. I’m taking over for her, but I have her questions.” He cut you off, waving a notebook, tension already palpable.

“Okay…” you started, hesitantly, setting down your duffle bag. “I guess we should start then?” This was already the longest conversation the two of you had had in over a year.

“Yeah, we’ll get it over with. I’m sure you have some victorious partying to do with your,” you swallowed hard as he paused, then spit the last word out with a healthy dose of venom, “friends.” You shuffled, at a loss for words or how to combat his thinly-veiled hostility. He flipped open the small notebook.

“So, first off is about strategy. What did your team do to prepare for tonight’s game and what did you do, specifically?” Fred narrated Nancy’s scrawl from the book and didn’t look up to meet your eye. When he finished his sentence, you began, carefully and professionally.

“Well, we have our typical top-secret playbook that we study. We prepare different formations and try to predict what the other team might try, and how to counteract it. We also sometimes study tapes of the other teams and look for patterns and moves they like to try. As for myself, I really try to focus on my role and how to help my team. Each person working in tandem is what makes the difference.” 

Fred was scribbling as you spoke, but you saw him pause. He had forgotten the way you spoke: the words were always the ones you meant and drove the point home efficiently and intelligently. He was glad to see that much hadn’t changed. But, as you spoke about your desire to help your team, he snorted derisively. You ignored it and moved on, “We also have pretty strict workout regimens. We have practice most weekdays, but we’re also scheduled time in the gym or with a trainer, or we’re encouraged to meet up and play against each other as well.”

“Okay, next question: how does it feel to…oh my God, Nancy, really? I took you for a more serious journalist than this.” Fred sputtered and frowned. You started to lean a little forward to see what was written but then realized who you were leaning towards and snapped backwards.

“What? What does it say?”

“‘How does it feel to be regarded as a ‘star,’ when you’re still an underclassman’? Which, if you ask me, is fawning garbage.” He looked at your shocked expression with your eyes screwed up. “No offense, I just mean…that’s such a ridiculous question. Like one an average fan would ask. Not someone writing an article.”

“Right…” you hesitated, uncertain he didn’t mean to offend you. You had gathered how incensed Fred was towards you, long before this conversation. You understood it, and it was partially what you wanted. You had done the leaving and had been determined to drive a wedge between you two. Of course…you had your reasons.

“So, I guess, ‘how does it feel to be a star’?” Fred asked mockingly, and you sort of chuckled, then shifted uneasily from one foot to the other. Even without the contention, Fred had always made you nervous.

“Honestly? I don’t know. I don’t really feel like I am. I know it’s a corny answer to say we’re a team and we’re evenly matched or something. But that’s not it…I mean, some of us are clearly better than others--”

“You sure you want me to quote you on that?” Fred scoffed, cutting you off.

“Fine. We all have different strengths. But I don’t think I’m the star. I’ve had some lucky turnouts and I enjoy it, but I don’t feel like I’m that important. We all play as a team and that’s what makes the difference.”

“Oh, come on. You don’t like them cheering your name? Picking you up on their shoulders? People wanting to write articles about your stardom?”

“I don’t really notice it, no. I mean, in the moment, yeah sure. It’s nice to be recognized. But it’s not that noticeable in the day-to-day.”

“In the day-to-day?” Fred followed up, incredulously, “you mean you don’t notice people clapping you on the back with congratulations or the girls falling all over themselves for you? Because I sure do.” You swallowed thickly. You had thought that if you left, if you pushed him away before you got too close, that he would eventually forget about you. But, apparently he had not.

“You--you notice me?” You asked softly and shyly, looking down to your sneakers.

“Of course! How could I not? You’re the talk of the town, hotshot!” He started quickly with anger, but devolved into something else. “And you…you used to be my friend. Of course I’m still looking for you. At you. Whatever. I mean, I still notice your existence, if that’s what you’re asking.”

You sat in stunned silence. About a year ago, it had all become too much and you realized that you felt something more for Fred, and for guys in general, than you ‘should.’ It was something that could get you driven out of town, at best. To protect yourself, and more importantly, Fred, you decided it was best to not stay friends. You pulled away and joined the basketball team to focus on something else, to make the loss sting less, not that it truly worked, but it provided a comfortable numbing most days. And now your former best friend admitted that he wasn’t over you, either. 

“I didn’t know…I didn’t think---”

“That I wouldn’t ‘notice’ you choosing a different life? Starting over and becoming a jock? You may have completely forgotten about me, but I didn’t forget about you.” He drew closer and your breath hitched. Of course, Fred was in no physical condition to fight you and you both knew that. No, your breathing stopped because of the surge of familiar feelings. The butterflies hit you all at once like they used to. But instead of enjoying his fiery passion or feeling queasy at the sweetness of his smile, you felt an ache; he really disliked you. You couldn’t fault him for that, but it hurt. You felt the rejection you always assumed you’d receive and tried to head off by separating from him in the first place.

“It’s not like that, Fred. I--I wasn’t trying to become someone new. I just kind of found basketball and---”

“Oh, so you’re going to claim it wasn’t intentional to completely drop me? Scrape me out of your life like gum on your shoe?”

“I--I--!” You stammered, but came up short. There wasn’t much of a defense here. You clearly had hurt him more than you had meant to and that irreparable damage had festered into, well, this. You had avoided conversation for so long and hoped he’d just forget you and move on, find new friends like you had. Ones that deserved him and his trust. Instead, you had left him bruised and scarred. The realization cut into you like a white-hot knife, but you tried to hide the emotions bubbling up.

"Then what was all this for? You dropped off the face of the earth and stopped being my friend! It isn't because you wanted to be popular? A basketball god?" Fred interrogated, heaping on questions in angry rapid-fire blows.

"No! I did it to get away from you!" Your exasperated words hit him hard, devastating blows. "Shit, Fred, that's not what I mean." But he was already storming out, you looked cautiously over your shoulder making sure you were alone and started to jog towards him. "Fred!" You called out. He was surprisingly fast and was walking too quickly away from you to catch up to, so you blurted out the truth, "it was because I had feelings for you!" He stilled along the court side, just long enough for you to approach. 

“What? What was that?” He asked, voice low and eyes darting from you to the various exits and empty spaces in the gym, which seemed to grow larger by the second, its looming maw threatening to swallow you whole in your embarrassment.

“Fff-” You bit back the swear on your tongue and bounced on the balls of your feet. To hell with it, may as well risk it all. You’ve come this far. “Listen, Fred. I---We were close, right? And I felt like maybe we were getting too close; I liked you as maybe more than a friend. And I didn’t know what to do about it, so I ran. I pushed you away so you couldn’t hurt me, so I didn’t have to deal with it, and so…so we wouldn’t both get our asses kicked, okay? You know how Hawkins is. I couldn’t---I can’t let something like that happen to you, to be the cause of it, you know?”

Normally Fred was whip-smart and miles ahead in any conversation, but his brain still snagged on the part where you had said that you liked him as maybe more than a friend. “What do you mean, ‘maybe?’” he figured he’d address that first. You blinked at him, not comprehending. “You said you ‘maybe’ liked me as more than a friend. Well, did you or didn’t you?”

“I did. I still do. I didn’t realize---” you swallowed thickly, “I didn’t think you still cared, that it hurt you that I broke things off and moved away. But I still think about you. All the time.” You felt jittery on the inside with this admission, your flight-or-fight instincts kicking in and you felt like you should bolt, but Fred surprisingly took your hand in his. Long, deft fingers gently holding your own, grounding you.

“I never stopped thinking about you. Or worrying about you. But…why didn’t you just tell me?”

“I was so scared. I still am, Freddie.” You choked his name out, strained, but he smiled gently at the term of endearment he hadn’t heard in so long, “Afraid that you’d reject me, that I’d be alone. I tried to fill that void with other friends. Hell, I joined this team just to try to put the past behind me. But I couldn’t. I’d still see you every day and…and I’d wonder what could have been, how things would have been different.”

“Me too,” he confessed and you realized that your hand was still gripped tightly in yours. “I miss you,” he admitted and you could feel your entire being crumble. They may as well bury you here under the worn wooden floor.

“I miss you too.” You leaned your head forward against his, a risky move and you were filled with dejected regret as he let go of your hand, sure that he was going to turn away and leave you standing there; that all of your worst fears would be instantly realized. But instead he threw his arms around your middle and gave you a long-overdue hug. You placed your arms around his shoulders in kind and let the embrace consume you.