#he wanted to get married NOW though and asked my aunt if she would lie to the court and say they separated earlier

[dragonpyre]

Shout out to my ex-uncle for attempting to commit perjury so he could marry his mistress faster because her priest wouldn't agree to marry them since he ex-uncle was still married

Also shout out to my dad for being a divorce fraud investigator and threatening to sue his ass if he tried

[fluentmoviequoter]

We're Getting Married Now?

Requested Here!

Pairing: Tim Bradford x fem!LAPD!reader

Summary: When Tim finds out you need a fake boyfriend to take to your cousin's wedding, he steps up and offers to go with you. After a night in his arms, you learn that his "boyfriend act" isn't just an act.

Warnings: I referenced a few lines from The Rookie (no spoilers though), a few vague mentions of insecurities and rude family members (they apologize). lots and lots of fluff!! one bed trope?

Word Count: 4.3k+ words

Picture from Pinterest

Masterlist Directory | Tim Bradford Masterlist | Request Info/Fandom List

When your phone rings on the way to work, you don’t expect to see your aunt’s name on the caller ID. 

“Hello?” you greet. 

“Hey, sweetheart. I was going through the seating chart for your cousin’s wedding and seemed to have misplaced your RSVP,” she explains. 

“I, uh, I didn’t get an invite. She’s getting married?”

“Of course. You lot aren’t getting any younger, as I’m sure you know, and when she met her fiancé, well, I think we all knew. Anyway, you say you didn’t get an invite? Must’ve gotten lost in the mail, those incompetent kids aren’t as reliable as they used to be. I suppose that explains your lack of congratulations, though, which I’m sure everyone will be relieved to hear.”

“I bet,” you mumble before asking, “So what do you need from me? Sorry to interrupt, but I’m nearly to work.”

“Oh, yes, I’m sorry, I suppose the wedding planning is making me a touch scatter brained. All I need from you is a confirmation that you are attending. It’s at her fiancé’s family orchard, I’ll send you the address. Everyone is coming out Friday evening and the wedding is Sunday afternoon.”

“Uh, yeah, I have this weekend off. I may be a bit later on Friday, but I’ll be there.”

“And I’ll assume you’re still single, so no plus one. Although, sweetie, you really shouldn’t let this discourage you. I’m sure you have plenty going for you and the right man is out there somewhere,” she says, lowering her voice as pity laces every word. 

“Actually, I’ll be bringing my boyfriend. If there’s room for one more, of course.”

The words come out before you can stop them, and after you slam your gear shift up and set your brake, you grip your steering wheel with both hands. 

“Boyfriend? Well, good for you, sweetheart, I didn’t want to seem insensitive before, but your clock is ticking! I will put you down for two then. Oh, one more thing-“

“I’m actually at work and can’t be late. I’ll see you Friday,” you rush out before ending the call. 

Hitting the back of your head against the headrest, you wonder who you can ask on such short notice. Getting a fake boyfriend is entirely avoidable, of course. You’d have to tell another lie about him being sick or dumping you or call your aunt and explain that her constant jabs at your lacking love life pushed you to speak without thinking. 

“That would go well,” you murmur as you gather the strength to get out of your car. 

She’d probably say something like, “Well then he just wasn’t the one,” before telling everyone that you did something to get dumped, or she’d remind you that you’re running out of time, it’s practically too late, so you should stop trying. You don’t mind being single, but she rips you apart, finding a way to make it your fault for being too busy with work, unwilling to compromise, or “looking too chubby in red.” (Her words.)

As you walk into the station and change into your uniform, you are struck with the perfect idea. 

“Nolan!” you call, rushing to his side before he can enter roll call. “I need a favor.”

“Uh, yeah, I’ll do what I can,” he answers kindly. 

“Long story short I need a fake boyfriend to go to my cousin’s wedding or my aunt will expose me as a dirty rotten liar who can’t get a boyfriend.”

“Wow,” Nolan responds. “Does she really- never mind. When’s the wedding?”

“This weekend.”

“Bailey and I are going to San Diego to meet Henry for a few days. I’m so sorry, I’d help you if I could.”

“Yeah, no problem. Thanks anyway,” you tell Nolan while looking for someone else you can ask. “Aaron!”

Aaron turns in the doorway, stepping back toward you and Nolan with raised brows. 

“What’s up?” he asks. 

“I need a date, a fake boyfriend for a wedding this weekend.”

“I don’t do weddings.”

“Aaron, please,” you plead.

“Look, I’d love to help you, but my family’s got a big dinner thing this weekend and they rarely end well, so I’m booked.” He pats your arm and adds, “Hope you find someone who can help.”

You nod as he walks inside. Looking around the station, you realize your options are very limited. 

“Think Angela would let me borrow Wesley for a few days?” you ask Nolan. 

“Why don’t you just find someone to actually take as a date?”

“Because that’s the entire problem, Nolan. I can’t get a date.”

“I’m sure you’ll figure something out.”

As you follow him into roll call, you whisper, “I’m going to have to ask Smitty.”

Nolan stifles a laugh, shaking his head as he takes his seat. You tune Wade out after receiving your assignment for the day, glancing around the room as you try to find someone else you can ask. Maybe you should just cancel, tell your aunt that you’re the one who got sick, and now neither you nor your boyfriend can make it. 

Standing in the bullpen, you have your aunt’s contact pulled up on your phone but can’t seem to press the call button. 

✯✯✯✯✯

“Sergeant Bradford,” Nolan says. “I need some advice.”

“I already don’t like this, but go ahead,” Tim replies, resting his hands against his belt. 

“If a fellow officer, a close friend, was going to cancel going to a family member’s wedding because she couldn’t find a fake boyfriend to keep her controlling aunt off her back, would you help her?”

Tim doesn’t answer, turning away from Nolan. As he walks toward the bullpen, Nolan raises a fist in victory, hoping it works out for you and Tim. It’s clear to everyone that you have feelings for each other, but neither of you seems eager to do anything about them. Maybe this is the push you need to take the next step. 

✯✯✯✯✯

Tim’s hand covers your phone screen before he takes it from you, holding it by his side. 

“You need a fake boyfriend?” he asks. 

“Who told you? ... Nolan, I should’ve known not to trust him and his big mouth.”

“Who’s getting married?”

“My cousin,” you answer, pursing your lips in confusion about why he’s interested. 

“The cousin from the aunt that manipulates and belittles you every time you see her?”

“I’m still sorry for calling you that day, I shouldn’t have. Just didn’t have anyone else to cry to.”

“She lied to you, told you things about yourself that couldn’t have been further from the truth. So, now that you have lied to her, what are you going to do about it?”

“Cancel,” you whisper. “If I can just press the button to call her.”

“I’ll call her,” Tim offers, raising your phone. “Or I can go with you.”

“Tim, I can’t ask you to do this- to lie for me and spend your weekend off at a wedding, around people you don’t know.”

“You’re not asking,” Tim reminds you. “Which one? I make a call, or I go with you.”

“Are you sure?”

“Wouldn’t have offered if I wasn’t.” Tim smiles while assuring, “We’re friends, and we’ve been on vacation together before. This is just like that.”

“I don’t want to go…”

“But you don’t want to deal with the grief you’ll get if you don’t. I get it, but I’ll help in any way I can.”

You nod, taking your phone from Tim. “Thank you.”

“When do we leave?”

“Friday night. The wedding’s Sunday.”

“Two days before? Why?”

“I don’t even want to think about that right now.”

Tim raises your right hand, pushing a bent paper clip over your finger as he promises, “I will make sure you survive this weekend.”

“And I… will apologize in advance.”

✯✯✯✯✯

When you get out of the shower Friday night and get dressed, all you can think about is the weekend ahead. If you or Tim get uncomfortable, you could put your relationship on the line to look like a happy couple in front of your family. 

Tim’s knock draws you from your thoughts, and when he takes your bag from you, you realize something: Tim already acts like your boyfriend, so he really is boyfriend material. Your crush on him is bound to be affected over the next 48 hours, but he agreed to this, so maybe there’s a chance he feels more than friendship, too. Shaking the idea from your head, you accept Tim’s help as you climb into the passenger seat of his truck. He waits until he’s on the freeway to ask you about the wedding and your family. 

“What’s the fiancé like?” he asks. 

“I haven’t met him. Didn’t even know they were getting married until a few days ago.”

Tim nods, laying his elbow on the center console and moving closer to you without thinking. 

“I- I want to go ahead and tell you that you don’t have to do anything you’re uncomfortable with. My family can be a lot-“

“I’m not here for them. I’m spending the weekend with you, and nothing more. Remember that, okay? So, if you need an excuse, a buffer, anything you want or need, that’s me this weekend.”

“I can never repay you for this.”

“I’ll give you a call next time I need a wedding date,” Tim suggests. 

“Deal,” you reply with an easy smile. 

✯✯✯✯✯

Someone squeals your name, and Tim grips your hand when you flinch. 

“I’m so glad you made it!” the woman says, pulling you into a hug.

“Of course. And congratulations!” you reply. “Sorry about the invitation confusion.”

“Oh, no worries, I get it. Stuff happens. My mom said you were bringing your boyfriend?”

Tim steps forward, wrapping an arm around your waist as he offers his other hand. “I’m Tim, the boyfriend your mom mentioned.”

“Oh,” your cousin says, shaking his hand. She looks between you and Tim, and as you begin to expect a sarcastic comment, she says, “Nice to meet you, Tim.”

“That wasn’t so bad,” Tim whispers in your ear. 

“I guess I could’ve been overthinking it,” you admit. 

“You’re in chateau Sauvignon Blanc,” a man says, passing a key to Tim. “Follow the white path and you won’t miss it.”

“The chateaus are named after wine,” Tim muses. “Must be nice to be marrying into a family of nepotism.”

You laugh at him, and when he refuses to let you carry your bag to the chateau, you fall into easy conversation on the short walk. Entering, however, you stop in the doorway. 

“What’s wrong?” Tim asks quickly, stepping forward so his chest presses against your back. 

“Nothing, just- there’s only one bed in here,” you say quietly. 

“I think we can make it work. There’s always the floor if you want to treat your fake boyfriend like that,” Tim jokes, closing the door and tossing your bags on a nearby chair. 

“I- why’d you agree to come?” you ask him. 

“You needed a date.”

You don’t quite accept that. It’s not enough reason for someone as logical as Tim Bradford. You don’t have time to question him further, though, as you receive a text that dinner is being served in the main tasting room in just a few minutes. 

“Hey,” Tim says, laying his hands on your shoulders. “We’re two people on vacation together. It doesn’t have to be awkward.”

“Sorry. It’s just, this isn’t what I was expecting.”

“That’s okay, but we’re going to keep moving. No one knows me here, so I’m whatever-“

“I need you to be,” you repeat. “Thank you.”

Tim smiles, and you take your bag into the bathroom to get ready while he changes. When you exit, wearing your favorite outfit and hairstyle, Tim stands, offering both his hands. 

“You look stunning.”

“Clean up pretty nicely yourself, Mr. Bradford.”

“Oh, so you’re a flirty girlfriend?”

You roll your eyes, attempting to pull away from Tim. He tightens his hands around yours and pulls you into a hug, hooking one arm around you as he leads you back to the white path. 

✯✯✯✯✯

Sitting beside Tim, your hand stays in his until the food is served. So far, all of the attention has been on your cousin and her fiancé, and you’re more than happy to listen along to their chatter rather than talk yourself. 

“What about you two?” your grandfather asks. “How’d you meet?”

Tim moves his hand out of yours, patting above your knee as he answers, “We met at work; different divisions, but we joined forces for a narcotics bust and I just couldn’t get her off my mind, so I had to ask her out.”

“How long have you been together?” someone inquires. 

“5 years,” you and Tim say together. You add, “But we’ve only been serious for what? 6 months or so?”

“Since you finally agreed to my begging, you mean?” Tim asks, sending you a comforting smile. “Yeah, about that.”

“Cute,” your cousin comments before the conversation returns to her. 

You close your eyes and release a breath, leaning toward Tim when his hand covers yours again. 

✯✯✯✯✯

“How are we doing this?” You ask, standing at the side of the bed with your arms wrapped around your waist. 

“It’s a bed,” Tim says, blinking at you. “Seems pretty straightforward.”

“Well, yeah, but… what if I, like, snore more or something?”

“I’ll live. Just get in the bed.”

You crawl under the covers, murmuring, “Thought you were gonna call me boot there for a second.”

“I still may,” Tim responds as he turns the light off, lying beside you. “Is this okay?”

“Yes. Thank you, Tim.”

“No problem.”

✯✯✯✯✯

When you wake up, it’s a few minutes before dawn, and a strong arm is holding you against the mattress. When you try to move, Tim pulls you closer before tucking you against him as he relaxes again. 

“Friends on vacation,” you remember, pressing your cheek against his chest as you get comfortable. 

Suddenly, you remember you have to survive another night by his side. The idea makes you want to pull away, but his touch and heartbeat lull you back to sleep before you can. 

✯✯✯✯✯

“Your cousin is here,” Tim whispers, shaking you gently. “She wants to talk to you about dresses.”

“You’re a snuggler,” you mumble as Tim pulls you out of bed. 

“No one will ever believe you,” Tim says darkly. 

“Is she really here?”

“I wouldn’t lie about that. This isn’t a horror movie.”

Nodding, you pick up a change of clothes and move into the bathroom. Tim’s voice is muffled through the wall, but you can tell he’s being civil even as his patience wears thin. Straightening your outfit, you open the door and smile at your cousin and Tim.

“You’re wearing that?” she asks.

“You’re beautiful,” Tim says, smiling at you.

“What exactly are we doing?” you ask.

“I wanted to see the dress you’re planning to wear to the rehearsal tonight and the wedding and reception tomorrow. If you need something different, we can-“

“I won’t need different dresses,” you interrupt. “I like the ones I brought.”

“As do I,” Tim adds. “But I’ll leave you two to talk about dresses.” He stands, kissing your temple and pausing by your side to whisper, “Call if you need someone to save you.”

Smiling, you tell him to be careful. Your cousin waits until he leaves to sit on the end of the bed, waiting for you to show the dresses you packed.

As you hold them up, you remember Tim's compliments this morning as you hide your smile at her surprised reaction. And his arm around you last night. He’s taking his fake boyfriend duties seriously, and you’re unsure if your feelings can survive another night beside him.

“They’re pretty,” your cousin says finally. “I have a few more things to do before the rehearsal this evening, but I’ll see you around.”

“Congratulations again,” you call, exiting the chateau behind her to look for Tim.

When you round a corner on the white path, you run directly into Tim. His arms come up to catch you, holding you against his chest as he raises his eyebrows in surprise.

“Did it go okay?” he asks, rubbing a hand down your spine.

“Yeah. She said the dresses were pretty, so that was unexpected.”

“Wait ‘til she sees them on you,” Tim replies. “Can’t imagine getting upstaged at my own wedding.”

“What do you want to do for the rest of the day? The rehearsal isn’t until 5 and then most of the wedding party is leaving for bachelor and bachelorette parties.”

“You could model the dresses.”

“Stop,” you plead, laughing as you press against Tim’s chest.

“It’s my duty as your boyfriend.”

“I knew I should have asked Smitty.”

Tim narrows his eyes, shaking his head. “Don’t make me think about that.”

✯✯✯✯✯

“Where do you think the red path goes?” you ask.

“Are you asking me on a treasure hunt date?” Tim replies.

“Maybe. Care to follow our own version of the yellow brick road? See if you can find your usual personality on the way back to Kansas?”

“You don’t like my new personality? The one I created just for you?”

“Tim,” you warn. “Red path, yes or no?”

Tim takes your hand, leading you out of the chateau and back toward his truck before turning onto the other path.

“If we find a crime scene or something,” you begin.

“What?” Tim interrupts dramatically.

“If we find something unexpected, what then?”

“Wait,” Tim calls, gently pulling you back toward him. “What is this about?”

Glancing down, you say, “Last night.”

“Look, if I made you uncomfortable-“

“No, not at all. The, uh, the unexpected part was how much I liked it,” you admit quietly.

Tim taps his knuckle lightly against your chin, smiling as you raise your head to look at him.

“Just tell me what’s bothering you.”

“I don’t want to ruin anything. We’re friends, and I care about you, but this weekend could ruin everything if I make one wrong move.”

“You said it yourself, we’re friends, and we’ve been friends for years. Walking on eggshells around me all weekend is unnecessary, not to mention more dangerous than just telling me you like being cuddled.”

“You like being cuddled.”

“Never say that aloud again.”

You chuckle, taking Tim’s hand as you begin walking again. After a few minutes of walking in silence, you stop.

“The red path looks exactly like the white path,” you point out.

“Not true. The red path is red, and the white is white.”

“Wow. You should have been a detective.”

“Are we on the same page?” Tim murmurs.

“Yeah, I’ll be myself with you this weekend. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. Nerd.”

“Excuse me?”

“Sorry, Dorothy.”

You roll your eyes, walking away from Tim. He laughs before taking a few long steps to catch up with you. Wrapping an arm around your shoulders, Tim apologizes, and you lean against him, trying to remember what he said about being honest.

✯✯✯✯✯

“Hi, sweetheart,” your aunt greets you as you enter the venue for the rehearsal dinner. “You are at table 2, and your boyfriend is at table 9.”

“You didn’t seat us together?” you ask.

“Well, it was late notice, learning you were bringing a plus one. Sorry.”

“Uh, okay. Thanks.”

Tim lays his hand on your lower back, leading you to your table.

“I’ll be right back,” he says, reaching over the table before leaving.

You watch him walk to his table, switching a nameplate before returning to your side. He sets his nameplate on the seat beside you, sighing as he sits.

“Have I told you recently that you’re the best?”

“You don’t have to, I know,” Tim answers smugly.

“What do you want to do when this is over?”

“Planning ahead, aren’t we?” Tim smiles as he leans toward you.

✯✯✯✯✯

Exiting the venue, you take Tim’s hand, wrapping your other hand around his forearm as you walk beside him. He tugs you closer, keeping you close until you’re back in your chateau. After changing quickly and washing your face, you collapse onto the bed.

“I thought my family was tiring,” Tim jokes.

“Still up for cud- lying closely on the same piece of furniture?” you correct.

Tim leans over you, smiling as he says, “Since you asked so nicely.”

You stare at the ceiling until Tim returns and pulls you into his side as he lays beside you. Rolling against him, pressing your ear to his chest so you can hear his heartbeat, you accept that things are changing.

“I don’t think we can go back to how things were before,” you mutter.

“Me neither,” Tim agrees softly, moving his hand to your upper back.

“Did I ruin everything by letting you come with me?”

Tim rolls onto his side, facing you rather than holding you.

“What’s the plan for tomorrow? Does everything get awkward after the wedding?”

“You didn’t ruin anything,” Tim answers. “I offered to come because it was an opening to spend time with you.”

“But-“

“We’re friends, right? That’s what we say but that’s not how it feels.”

“How does it feel?” you whisper.

“Like more. Tell me you’ve been pretending, and I’ll let this go, but nothing I’ve said this weekend has been a lie or an act.”

“I have feelings for you,” you confess. “I have for years, but I didn’t know how to tell you or what you’d think. So…”

“We both did. Stay quiet to preserve a friendship that could have been much more.”

Inhaling deeply, you move forward, closing the distance between you and Tim.

“You asked what happens after the wedding,” Tim says. “I’d like to keep going from here.”

“I’d like that too.”

Tim smiles, wrapping an arm around your waist as he rolls over, pulling you with him. You laugh against him, falling silent when you look into his eyes.

“Can I-“ Tim begins.

“Kiss me,” you demand.

Tim cups your cheeks as he pulls you down against him, kissing you softly. You slide your arms over his chest, holding his jaw as you reciprocate his every move. Tim’s arm tightens around your waist before someone knocks on the door.

Pulling away, you sigh before getting out of bed, cracking the door open to see who it is.

“Hi,” you greet, surprised to see your aunt outside.

“I moved your seats for the wedding and reception,” she tells you. “Since you seem inseparable.”

“Thank you.”

“Sorry for earlier, and for interrupting. I’ll see you at the wedding.”

After you close the door, you press your hand against it and take a few breaths, surprised by her apologies.

“Are you okay?” Tim asks, sitting up as he watches you.

Walking back to his side, you lie down and move against him, smiling as you answer, “I’m great.”

Tim holds you close, both of you falling asleep on the same side of the oversized bed. When you wake up the following morning, you chuckle at the sight of it, with one side still made after a night in Tim’s arms.

✯✯✯✯✯

“You’ve been in there for a while,” Tim calls, tapping his knuckles against the bathroom door.

“Maybe she was right,” you answer. “I mean, the dress looked great on the mannequin, but…”

“Open the door,” Tim demands.

“No.”

“I will kick it down. You know I can.”

You pull the door open before he can do anything, and Tim’s eyes widen when he sees you.

“You look…”

“I know.”

“Perfect.”

Furrowing your brows, you look down at the dress.

“How do you feel?” Tim asks. “In the outfit, in general?”

 “I feel good, really good.”

“Well, you look even better. Don’t let whatever someone said make you think otherwise. And I was right.”

“About?”

“You’re gonna look better than the bride.”

Tim’s smile, accompanied by his kind words, makes you smile, wrapping your arms around his waist as you hug him tightly. Your relationship with him has changed this weekend, and you’re still giddy because you can tell him you love him whenever you want.

“I love you,” you say against his suit.

Tim pulls back quickly, looking into your eyes as he asks you to repeat it. After you do, he smiles and replies, “I love you. I’ve loved you for years.”

“We’re going to be late,” you remind him, narrowly dodging a kiss.

Shaking his head, Tim offers his arm, keeping you close as you walk to the wedding venue entrance. Finding your seats, you sit beside Tim, pulling one of his hands into your lap as you look at him.

“Those bouquets are really bright,” you say.

“Our wedding will be much better,” Tim agrees.

“We’re getting married now?” you ask, smiling.

Tim looks at you from the corner of his eye, shrugging as he says, “Why not?”

“I love you, Tim Bradford.”

“Thank you for letting me be your boyfriend this weekend,” he replies. “I love you.”

“Oh, you’re going to be my boyfriend for a lot longer than this weekend.”

“And after that?” Tim asks, interlacing his fingers with yours.

“That part is up to you, I think.”

You stand, keeping your hand in Tim’s as the wedding procession begins.

“Then, yes, we’re getting married,” Tim whispers. “But it will be perfect.”

Keeping your attention on one another throughout the ceremony, you fall in love with Tim again. After the bride and groom walk down the aisle together, you pull the paper clip ring from your dress pocket. Tim stands, and when he turns to you, you raise it.

“Tim Bradford, will you be my boyfriend?”

Tim chuckles, pulling you up to kiss you before you slide the ring onto his finger. He had nearly forgotten about giving it to you before leaving the station but seeing it on his finger makes him even more eager to marry you someday.

[leupagus]

Please note that this fic is going to take the better part of 2024 and probably 2025

(and given my track record might never be done):

Sansa

"Do you like the taste?" asked Littlefinger, watching her closely as she tried the wine. He always watched her closely.

They had stopped at the Inn at the Crossroads; she hadn't wanted to, but she would have had to explain to Littlefinger why. So she had choked down a meal and refused to think about the last time she had come through this way, where the first member of her family had been murdered in the stable while Joffrey had sniveled and lied and shown her, for the first time, who he really was.

"I don't see what all the fuss is about," she answered. "Why do men love it so much?"

Littlefinger shrugged. "It gives some men courage."

"Does it give you courage?"

He smiled, the way he did when she had stung him. He would take his revenge on her somehow, she knew. He was nothing like Joffrey, but there was a smallness to him that reminded her of the king.

The dead king, now.

A flash of armor to her right made her look up; a familiar woman, tall and broad of shoulder in a suit of armor, had approached their table. "Lord Baelish. Lady Sansa. My name is Brienne of Tarth."

Sansa opened her mouth to reply, to tell her she knew who she was, of course she knew. Tyrion had mentioned her often, usually after rebuffing yet another request by the lady of Tarth for an audience with Sansa. I hope you don't mind, and Jaime vouches for her, but Cersei has made it clear she's to go nowhere near you and frankly this giantess makes me a bit nervy. He'd been glad to recount the tale of Lady Brienne and Ser Jaime, traipsing through the Riverlands on their way to King's Landing.

Before Sansa could speak a word, Littlefinger had made some cutting remark, the sort he was so good at. She'd yet to be on the receiving end of any of them but she flinched all the same, watching Brienne's face. Littlefinger was something like Joffrey — and something like herself, too, when she'd been young and pleased at her own wit. Looking back, she knew now that she had only ever been cruel.

Lady Brienne seemed not even to hear Littlefinger; as though he were no more than a gnat to be tolerated until such moment as he could be swatted. She knelt, awkward but not clumsy, and looked earnestly up at her. "Lady Sansa. Before your mother's death, I was her sworn sword. I gave my word I would find you and protect you. I will shield your back and keep your counsel, and give my life for you if needs be. I swear it by the Old Gods and the New."

Would she have given the answering vow? She would never know, because once again Littlefinger was talking, sliding his glance over to Sansa to see what remarks might prompt a reaction. Sansa stayed still and watched as Lady Brienne's attention was at least drawn away, glaring at Littlefinger.

"Strange," Littlefinger was saying. "I knew Cat since the time we were children. She never mentioned you."

"It was after Renly's murder," said Lady Brienne, direct and blunt. She and Sandor would get along well, Sansa thought suddenly. Pity they had never met.

"Ah, yes," said Littlefinger. "You were accused of killing him."

Lady Brienne blushed, a splotchy red spreading across her cheeks. Shame, Sansa thought, but not guilt. "I tried to save him," she spat out. She did not glance over, to see if Sansa would believe her.

"But you were accused."

"By men who did not see what happened."

"And what did happen?"

"He was murdered by a shadow. A shadow with the face of Stannis Baratheon."

"A shadow? With a face?" Littlefinger turned to Sansa, and that was when she knew whatever he was about to say was a lie. "This woman swore to protect Renly. She failed. She swore to protect your mother. She failed." He smirked up at Lady Brienne. "Why would I want somebody with your history of failure guarding Lady Sansa?"

Lady Brienne made a face. "Why would you have any say in her affairs?"

"Because I am her uncle. I married her Aunt Lysa shortly before my beloved's untimely death. We're family now. And you are an outsider. Forgive me, Lady Brienne. But experience has made me wary of outsiders."

She gaped at him, then looked back at Sansa. "Lady Sansa," she said, and paused, as though at a loss for how to convince her. "If we can have a word alone?"

"Yes." Sansa rose, knocking into the table. The goblet of wine spilled and ran down her dress, but she was on her feet at last. The sellswords Littlefinger had brought with him moved in, one of them putting a hand on Lady Brienne's shoulder. She tensed and in just a few seconds there would be bloodshed, there would be someone dead on the floor and it would be her fault.

"Uncle Petyr," she said loudly, her heart rabbiting out of her chest, "Thank you very much for understanding. I will speak with Lady Brienne as you suggest, and then we shall resume our journey."

The sounds of eating and talking died out as faces turned toward her. A round-faced boy came bustling up, a wide, customer-friendly smile pasted on his face. "Is there anything I can help with, milord?" he chirruped.

"A room for the ladies," said Littlefinger, still watching her. She nodded very slightly and his mouth twitched.

"Have you anything on the floor above?" she added, addressing the boy with a nervous glance toward Lady Brienne.

"Er," came the reply, "Yes? Right this way, milady. Miladies."

Sansa leaned toward Littlefinger. He smelled of wine and the oils he used on his hair. "Could some of the guards watch the door?" she whispered. "And some near the stairs. Just…in case."

"Of course," he said, though his eyes were on her mouth.

The way Littlefinger had spoken of her mother, there had been a great rivalry between himself and Ned Stark; and before that a rivalry between himself and her uncle Brandon, who'd been betrothed to Catelyn before his murder. Littlefinger had always sounded like the defeated lover, the man who had nearly won his beloved's hand.

Mother had never mentioned Littlefinger. Father had, once they were in King's Landing and he'd been forced to admit an acquaintance. He'd sounded irritated more than angry; her mother had never loved him, had hardly ever thought of him. Her parents had lived and loved each other and all the while Littlefinger had stewed in his own curdled affections, imagining a love story that had never existed.

She could never decide what had moved her to kiss him on the cheek. Perhaps it had been a clever ploy to distract him, or a way to tell him she would return. She would have liked to have been that clever. But in the moment she could remember only how sorry she felt for him. "I'll just be a few moments," she promised him, lying.

Minutes later she was in a small bedchamber, with two dirty windows on each outside wall and the ominous creak of leather and metal just outside the door, signaling that Littlefinger's sellswords had taken up position. Lady Brienne, for her part, looked as uncomfortable as she had downstairs. "Thank you for speaking with me, my lady," she said.

"Can you fight them all?" Sansa asked her, keeping her voice down. They would need to be overheard soon, but they had a few seconds. Enough time, perhaps enough time. "If there's four in the corridor, and four downstairs."

"What? Yes, of course," said Lady Brienne, expression torn between confusion and offense. She fought off a bear once, Tyrion had told her with glee. Even beat my dear brother in a sword fight. When he still had both hands.

Sansa went to the first window. A long drop onto hard ground, and it faced the road as well as the hitching posts. The second was more promising: hay bales stacked haphazardly next to the wall, and the wood only twenty hards away.

"Start talking," she hissed at Lady Brienne.

She frowned. "I'm sorry?"

Sansa mimed opening the window. "Start talking. About anything. Honor or duty or what my mother was like. Whatever you'd say if you were trying to convince me."

Lady Brienne's eyes widened in understanding. "I…am not much for speeches, my lady," she said slowly, then more loudly as Sansa pulled open the window slowly, mindful of any squeaking. "But I found your mother an honorable woman, and your brother too. I brought Ser Jaime Lannister back to King's Landing at her request, so that you might be returned to your mother in exchange."

It would never have worked; she'd known that even then. The Lannisters did not understand the notion of letting go of an advantage, once they'd sunk their teeth into one. Even Tyrion had never offered to take her to her family once they'd been married. He'd had his reasons, and they had been good ones, but she'd learned another lesson that day. "So you sacrificed your oath to protect my mother for an oath to protect me?" she asked, making sure her voice carried as she swung her legs over the sill. "How can I know you'll not abandon me, too?"

It was important not to think. If she thought about it, she wouldn't do it.

She held her breath, put her hands over her mouth, and fell.

[alwayschasingrainbows]

With all the amazing conversation about "Emily's happy ending" going on, there is one question I keep asking myself: Would Emily ever go back to writing if she married Dean Priest? And, however crazy it may sound, however unpopular this opinion is, I came to the conclusion that she would... in a time.

Now, I know that Dean is extremely possesive. He won Emily by a lie, he crushed her dreams, he laughted at her ambitions. He hated her writing, because it took her away from him. He wanted to possess her wholly, body and soul, he wanted her to belong to him whole-heartedly. I also know that Emily was deeply hurt, crushed, that her hopes and dreams were in shatters. I know that she kept telling herself she was going to be satisfied with being only Dean's wife and that her writing was no longer important. I know that she didn't believed in herself and her talent at this point of her life.

The problem is - she wouldn't be happy, or satisfied, or fulfilled, or whole. She had to write, just as she had to breathe. She got engaged to Dean during the most vulnerable period of her life, when she was hardly herself; weakened after her long illness, afraid of the future, ashamed of her past. But the need to write was still alive, deep inside her soul, unactive yet, but not dead.

In canon, it was Dean telling her the truth about A Seller of The Dreams, that allowed Emily to write again. But I think it was only a trigger. It is equally possible that, in a time, something else would make her want to write. It could be anything: Teddy's painting The Smiling Girl, a letter from someone who read her stories, Aunt Elizabeth's sickness, a loss of someone she cared about, reading one of her old poems, anything. I believe that Emily would feel the need to write herself out. Montgomery once said that only lonely people wrote journals, but there are many kind of loneliness - a loneliness of unshared thoughts, for example. So, I feel that once Emily encountered something she couldn't deal with or talk over with with Dean, she would turn back to her writing.

Also... it isn't impossible that Dean would have told Emily the truth about her first book later, during their marriage. Now... I know, it is not exactly in his character, but please, hear me out. Of course, we see Dean being jealous - of Emily's writing, of her friends. But, for many years, he showed Emily his support, he read her stories and poems. The scene in Emily Climbs, when he gets angry at Emily for wanting to see Teddy, shows his character - he doesn't want to let her go, but doesn't stop her.

Also, the moment Dean decided he hated A Seller of The Dreams shows that however he is guilty of Priests' jealousy, he usually tries to fight it: "The one black drop in his veins—that Priest jealousy of being first—suddenly made its poison felt." (Emily's Quest). It is in Dean's nature to be jealous, indeed, but he isn't possessed by it 24/7. He is capable of tenderness, and he isn't an evil person. He decided to tell Emily the truth about A Seller of The Dreams after she broke their engagement, even though he could walk away, knowing that Emily wouldn't be able to escape his grasp. But he chose not to. Why? In my opinion - because he regretted what he had done and felt ashamed. He wouldn't be able to go on, if he hadn't told the truth.

Montgomery's scholars interpreted Dean's wanting to buy Emily a writing desk as "limiting her writing to a small space", but in my opinion, it was something else. It was Dean's way of dealing with his regrets over killing a vital part of Emily. It was his way of trying to fix something he destroyed, even if he wasn't ready to say it plainly, yet.

I know it probably sounds as if I am trying to defend Dean and whitewash his character. I am not. He is not the supportive partner Teddy would (hopefully) be. Dean would have trouble accepting Emily's devotion to anything that wasn't him. That being said, I think that Dean, at this point, was lying to himself that this Emily was going to be enough. One of the reasons he wanted to marry Emily was her fierce spirit and vitality:

"What a child!” he muttered. “I’ll never forget her eyes as she lay there on the edge of death—the dauntless little soul—and I’ve never seen a creature who seemed so full of sheer joy in existence." (Emily of New Moon).

Emily who couldn't write was crushed - destroyed - a shadow of herself. She found it difficult to dream, or to be truly happy. Dean Priest, looking at her with the eyes of adoring man, might not have realized this change yet.

But once they were married, his regrets and fears would probably creep in, slowly, gradually. The realization that he killed the part of Emily would come in a time - years, possibly - but I think he wouldn't be able to stand this thought.

He'd spill his secret - he'd tell Emily the truth. Perhaps she wouldn't be able to forgive him - perhaps he'd lose her forever, but he would tell her (even on his deathbed, I think).

I know it is a very unpopular opinion, but I honestly think Emily Starr would sonehow find the strength to write again, even if she married Dean Priest.

[from-the-coffee-shop-in-edoras]

Tolkien Family Week, Day 4: Cut Ties (aka Éomer and Théodred trauma bond)

The Day 4 @tolkienfamilyweek prompt of “cut ties” covers everything from disagreements to separation and death. I went with death in order to revisit one of Rohan’s biggest tragedies, the death of Théodred. I absolutely love Théodred and have built up a fair amount of head canon about him, though you don’t need to know any of that for this story.

My inspiration here was Théodred’s last words as he lay dying by the Isen (as recorded in Unfinished Tales): “Let me lie here to keep the ford until Éomer comes.” There’s obviously a practical take on that line–he wants to hold his position until Éomer can bring more men to secure it. But I decided to read it from an emotional perspective instead–he wants to be left where he is until Éomer can get there because that is who he wants and needs to see in what he knows are his final moments. So I wrote a little history of the relationship between Éomer and Théodred and the way that grief, in particular, bonded them, starting with their shared love for Théodwyn (Théodred’s aunt and Éomer’s mother). Pour one out for Théodred, because he was a real one!

**********

“Let me lie here—to keep the fords until Éomer comes.”

There had always been Théodwyn. 

When Théodred searched his earliest memories, her face is what he found. Her sunny smile welcoming him back from sleep each morning. Her soft hands soothing his hurts when he fell or injured himself. Her high, clear voice telling him stories as they went for walks in the fields or while she led him around the training ring on his first pony. She was barely more than a girl herself at the time, but she was there, stepping into the breach left by his mother’s death and his father’s retreat into the depths of grief.

Over time, his father found a way to heal, to separate the birth of his son from the death of his wife and to embrace his little boy without hesitancy or reservation. But even then, his aunt remained the biggest figure in Théodred’s young life. He started and ended each day with her, took his lessons from her, asked her all of his questions and told her all of his feelings. And she gave him hugs and kisses and laughs and the occasional scolding. She taught him all the best bad words and made him special cakes on his birthday. She showed him how to take a handful of simple little seeds and turn them into beautiful flowers with nothing more than water, soil and sunshine. She was magic.

He knew she couldn’t stay at Meduseld forever. She had her own life to live, and when he was ten she met and fell in love with a man from Aldburg. He missed her terribly when she married Éomund and left for the Eastfold, but they saw each other when they could and exchanged letters when they couldn’t. Long years passed, but she was still the first one he thought to tell whenever he had good news and the first he wanted to turn to for consolation when things were hard. Though he had always called her Aunt Théodwyn, she was the closest thing to a mother he would ever know, and he cherished her. 

But in the summer of his twenty-fourth year, it all went wrong. First Éomund was killed during a poorly planned orc hunt, riding off too hastily without waiting for the additional numbers he would need to protect himself. Then Théodwyn suddenly came down with a mysterious fever. A stronger constitution might have overcome the illness, but Théodwyn, weakened in spirit by the shock of Éomund’s death, didn’t have the heart to battle. Just three weeks after the loss of Éomund, she went to bed early and never woke up. 

Now Théodred found himself on the terrace in front of Meduseld, waiting to greet the cousins who were being entrusted to his care, and that of his father, to try to salvage any possible happiness that could be wrested back from the unthinkable turn their young lives had taken. As he waited, he took his own overwhelming sorrow, the enormous grief weighing on his chest and pressing the breath from his lungs, and he pushed it down. He pressed and he pressed until his vast, shapeless misery was just a hard little knot in his stomach that he could quietly tolerate without outward expression. He would not show this grief to Éomer or Éowyn, whose burden was heavy enough without the sadness of another to manage. He would follow in Théodwyn’s example and step into the breach for them, whether he felt ready or not. 

The arrival of Éomer and Éowyn changed everything about daily life in Meduseld. Éowyn, all of seven years old, spent much of her time with Elfhelm’s wife, who was called into service to provide a small girl with the maternal presence she longed for, but Éomer became Théodred’s charge. They spent their days together, riding, hunting, or swimming in the Snowbourne, anything to keep Éomer’s spirits up and give him more to think about than what he was missing. Théodred wondered at the boy’s resiliency in the face of his losses. While his demeanor was solemn and his face grave, he never cried or expressed pain, and he even managed to offer himself as a source of comfort to his little sister when her own pain overcame her. Théodred couldn’t help but admire this strength, and it motivated him further to keep his own grief private, to match his young cousin’s mastery of his feelings. 

Instead, Théodred saved up his grief for a few stolen minutes at the very end of each day, after the rest of the household had gone to sleep and no one else stirred except the occasional guard on patrol. Then, under cover of darkness, he would quietly steal outside to sit in the little garden at the south end of the hall. It had been Théodwyn’s garden. She planted it when he was a boy, and when she departed for Aldburg he had taken over its care, tending dutifully to her blossoms and herbs and adding in the ferns and fruit trees that he favored. There was nowhere else that he felt closer to her memory, and he would sit alone under her moonflower vines, unclench the knot in his stomach, and allow himself to cry at last. When he had released enough of his sorrow to feel that he could go on for another day, he would dry his eyes, push his feelings back down again, and head off in search of a few hours of sleep. 

A week or so into this new routine, a sudden nighttime cloudburst drove him from the garden and his grieving sooner than expected. He raced to the closest door, a side entrance he seldom used, and quietly let himself in. The corridor was hushed and dim, and he kept his steps soft as he slipped past the closed doors of the hall’s sleeping residents and headed toward his own room. On the walls beside him, the faces of his ancestors looked down from their portraits. Brave Fréaláf. Sad Folcwine. Noble Thengel. He paused when he came to Théodwyn, intending to spend just a minute under the warm and gentle gaze of her likeness, when he heard something unexpected: the slightest of sniffles coming from somewhere in the darkness at his feet. Stooping down, he suddenly found himself face to face with Éomer. 

His cousin was tucked up against the wall, knees under his chin and arms wrapped tightly around his shins, staring at the portrait of his mother. Tears streamed down his cheeks and dripped onto his shirt, creating a large, dark stain just over his heart. He looked up, lower lip quivering and brows drawn tightly together, and for half a moment it seemed as though he might force back the tears and reclaim his typical mask of calm solemnity. But all his effort, all of his rigorously guarded self control, finally failed. Under Théodred’s eyes, Éomer began to sob, as he had been doing here alone each night, hidden away from family and strangers alike. 

Théodred’s first decision was easy. Indeed, it wasn’t even a decision, it was just instinct. He dropped to the floor at Éomer’s side, wrapped his cousin in a tight embrace, and held the little boy as he wept. The second decision was harder, a reconsideration of everything he had planned for managing Théodwyn’s death, but he knew in that moment it was the right thing to do. He allowed his own tears to return, and for as long as Éomer cried, Théodred cried with him.

When at last their tears came to an end, Théodred was surprised to feel a little lighter, relieved of some portion of the weight he had been carrying through each day. Éomer, too, looked less grave, if perhaps also a little embarrassed. They walked back together to Éomer’s room and, though they didn’t talk directly about what had just passed between them, they agreed to meet again by the portrait the next night at the same time. And so they made for themselves a new routine, coming together each night to reduce their suffering by sharing it with one another. Sometimes they sat by the portrait; other times, they went to the garden. No matter where they were, they thought of Théodwyn and allowed themselves to let out the sadness that they otherwise kept locked inside.

As the days passed, they cried less and talked more. They learned not only how to grieve her loss but also how to celebrate her memory and, in time, they could each think of her and feel happiness alongside the pain. They traded treasured memories and stories, and some days they even laughed, fondly recalling her terrible singing voice or her deadly accurate impression of Théoden. Eventually, they even came to talk of other things entirely, their nightly meetings providing an opportunity to confide in each other the fears, hopes, or concerns that they would speak to no one else. 

By the end of Éomer’s first season in Edoras, the seeds of their shared sadness had grown and transformed into an unshakeable bond, one more blossom in Théodwyn’s garden. That bond would last through happy times and further tragedy, changing circumstances and stages of life. It lasted all the way to that rainy night at the fords many years later, when Théodred himself lay near death. And alone with his pain, his body spent and his spirit facing imminent separation from everything he knew and everyone he loved, Théodred did the only thing he could think to do when confronted with grief. He called for his cousin. 

[aebi12]

Sinful Desires - Chapter 3

By Aebi12

Alyssa is still visibly shaken when they arrive at her mother's quarters.

"Perhaps it would be best if you lie down for a while," Rhaenyra proposes, noticing her pale face.

"No, no, I am fine. Is just that… was it really necessary to cause such a grotesque spectacle?” she directs her question to her stepfather, who is cleaning up Dark Sister without a hint of remorse, as if he hadn't decapitated a man just a few minutes ago.

"Vaemond Velaryon insulted your mother in front of her subjects and called all of you bastards, do you think I overstepped?"

“I do not question your reasons, uncle, I just think you should have let the king's justice deal with sir Vaemond. The throne room was hardly the place for such a bloody execution."

"I didn't know you were so delicate, Alyssa," he replies with a smirk.

Alyssa opens her mouth to reply, but her mother interrupts them.

"Enough, both of you", Rhaenyra looks worried despite the fact that the outcome of the hearing was favorable to her. Alyssa assumes it was partly due to the excitement of seeing her father go to such lengths to ascend the iron throne to champion for her cause.

The girl sighs, looking away from her stepfather, and there is an awkward silence until Jace clears his throat

"Mother, Baela and I wish to take a walk around the fortress"

"Fine, but someone will have to escort you"

Alyssa is not the only one who is surprised by her mother's response.

“Surely a chaperone will not be necessary” says Baela

"Yes, it is. I don't want anyone questioning the bride’s virtue or accusing the heir of inappropriate behaviors," Rhaenyra retorts.

Baela and Jace giggle as they look at each other. For a moment, Alyssa had forgotten that her siblings were now engaged to Baela and Rhaena.

“I can go with them,” she proposes, “I could use some fresh air.”

“Yes, do that. And remember my father wants us all to have dinner together, so don’t be late."

The three of them leave the rooms and Alyssa gives the newly engaged couple a chance to walk a few steps ahead of her.

Despite not having seen each other in years, Jace and Baela have clearly connect quite well. Her brother is visibly pleased with the engagement, and Alyssa is not surprised by this. Baela is a very beautiful young woman and funny too, judging by the laughter she provokes in her brother.

A pang of discomfort runs through Alyssa as she gazes at the image of Jace and his fiancée. The news of their engagement had taken her by surprise, her mother hadn't even consulted her brothers about the idea and now they were both one step closer to getting married. And to leave her.

Her Jace. Her Luke.

Alyssa sighs and follows the couple into the gardens, but she soon loses sight of them. And she honestly prefers it that way.

Heading in the opposite direction, Alyssa follows the sound of giggling and babbling. Soon the path of bushes opens up to a small square where two little children with platinum hair are playing under the watchful eye of a maid and Helaena Targaryen.

“Helaena”, she greets approaching her aunt.

“Alyssa Velaryon”, she replies with a kind smile.

"And who do we have here?" asks the black-haired girl as she stands at the children's level

“These are Jaehaerys and Jaehaera, my children”

“I did not know you were a mother,” Alyssa admits, surprised at the news

"I got married a few years ago, to Aegon," Helaena nods.

Aegon, of course. Alyssa had never had much of a relationship with Aegon, and though she had seen him at the audience this morning, she hadn't particularly noticed him.

The girl stands up and walks over to the stone bench where her aunt is sitting. Once next to her, she notices that Helaena has a ladybug in her hand and watches it with fascination.

“Your children are adorable,” she comments

"They are my best gift" she answers caringly.

Alyssa takes the opportunity to observe her aunt.

Helaena had always struck her as a pretty girl, with her long, fine eyes, her straight nose, and her kind smile. In her adulthood, she maintains the same traits and continues to convey that sense of calm and tranquility that Alyssa had recognized in her since she was a child.

"Are you engaged too, Alyssa, like your brothers?" Helaena suddenly asks

"Me? No, no" she laughs.

"I'm glad," Helaena replies, "There's nothing special about being married."

Alyssa doesn't know what to say to that. Fortunately, the maid approaches them.

“The sun is too strong this morning, princess. Perhaps it would be better for the children and for you if we return to the palace."

"Maybe you are right," Helaena agrees, standing up, "Enjoy your walk, Alyssa."

She says goodbye to Helaena, who takes one of the little ones by her hand while the maid takes the other.

The image, for some reason, makes Alyssa feel melancholy.

 ***

Their paths cross again.

But this time by a complete coincidence.

Alyssa Velaryon has her eyes closed and her face upturned to the sky, a grin on her beautiful features.

Seldom has Aemond seen a more beautiful spectacle. An involuntary smile forms on his lips as he approaches his niece.

“Making the most of the good weather?” he asks softly, resisting the urge to run a finger over her cheek.

She jumps in fright upon hearing his voice and immediately opens her eyes.

"Are you following me?" she asks accusingly as she stands up and takes a few steps back.

Aemond raises one of his eyebrows and looks at her with amusement. “I was looking for my sister. It turns out this is usually her favorite place when she takes a walk”

“She just left,” Alyssa replies.

Aemond nods, “Hmm. I'd better go find her then."

“And I should go find my brother,” she nods as she nervously scratches her arm with her other hand.

But neither of them takes the first step out of the garden.

Aemond continues to looking at her and Alyssa holds his gaze, caught in the deep blue of his good eye.

She doesn't know how to explain it, but there is a sudden change in the atmosphere, a change that perhaps is due to the fact that they are both aware that they are alone in that place. And a change between the two of them, in the way he looks at her, in the way that a magnetic force seems to have progressively taken over her body and pushes her closer to him.

Alyssa swallows and takes a few steps in his direction. He does the same and soon they are facing each other. She's tall, but he's even taller, so she looks up to properly study his appearance. His face of angular features, his curved nose, his pronounced jaw… hard features that somehow only makes him more attractive.

And his lips. Alyssa feels the sudden urge to trace them with her fingers, but she restrains herself.

Her heart begins to pound so hard that she places her hand on her chest, a move not lost on him. And when Aemond looks into her eyes again, Alyssa thinks she recognizes a fire in them that surely, he also sees in her because that's how she feels at that moment. Ablaze.

A bird chirps loudly in the distance and the momentary bubble in which they had been submerged breaks. Alyssa clears her throat and steps back, her sanity washing over her mind again and reproaching her for her actions from a moment ago.

"Meet me tonight," she hears Aemond say.

"What?" she looks at him, disbelief painted in her eyes

"After the hour of the owl" he continues, "I'll be waiting for you in our usual place"

Aemond doesn't give her time to answer because he turns his back on her and strides out of the garden.

***

Her mother is wearing a green dress.

“That's a… bold choice,” Alyssa comments as she finishes securing her long braid with a silver hair clip.

"It seemed appropriate for the occasion," Rhaenyra says as she approaches her daughter, "My father wants a peaceful night with all his family and I plan to give him exactly that."

Her mother's words seem to hide a deeper meaning that Alyssa interprets as a farewell. And honestly, it's not surprising, considering how weak Viserys is these days.

“Should I wear something similar too? Truth to be told, I don't think I have anything green”

"No, it is not necessary. You are perfect as you are now"

Rhaenyra stands behind her daughter and they both look into the mirror. Alyssa is wearing a silver dress, typical Velaryon color and a silver necklace with small sapphires that is her favorite.

"My only daughter is already a woman" Rhaenyra sighs, looking at her with nostalgia.

"I will always be your little girl if you prefer it that way" Alyssa replies turning to face her mother, hugging her and placing her face on her chest, as she did when she was a child.

“I wouldn't wish for anything more than that,” Rhaenyra smiles as she strokes her hair, “But time passes and you and your brothers keep growing and you'll forge your own paths soon, you'll have your own families, too.”

For some reason her mother's words manage to make her nervous. Her stomach clenches in a knot because talk of marriage is the last thing Alyssa wants to hear right now, but her mother doesn't seem to notice her mortification.

“As beautiful as you are,” Rhaenyra continues, “you won't be short of suitors.”

Alyssa breaks the hug with her mother and seeks her gaze, "Surely is too soon to talk about that, don't you think mother?"

Rhaenyra smirks and takes her daughter's face in her hands.

“At your age, I was not fond of the idea of ​​getting married either,” she admits, “But we're princesses, Alyssa. It is our duty to ensure the continuity of our house”

But you already have Jace and Luke for that, is what Alyssa wants to say, but instead she replies, "When the time comes, I can decide who I marry… right?"

Her mother would surely give her that option. After all, she herself had gone against her father's wishes and ended up marrying Daemon.

"Mother?" she insists waiting for an answer, “If I have to get married, I want it to be with someone of my choosing. I know you did not choose Laenor, but you always say that your union was a happy one. And now you have the same with Daemon, so you will also make sure that it is my case right?”

Alyssa doesn't need an answer other than the sad expression on her mother's face to understand what Rhaenyra dares not to tell her.

Her situations are not the same.

Yes, they're both princesses, but while Rhaenyra is the heir to the Iron Throne, Alyssa is just a second born daughter. Her mother has many more privileges and freedom when choosing her consort because she will be queen one day, while Alyssa will have to serve her house, surely being used as exchange in some alliance that benefits her mother’s future reign.

"Let's not think about that yet," Rhaenyra says placing a kiss on Alyssa's forehead, "Now, come on, they must be waiting for us"

Her mother cuts off the conversation, and Alyssa has no choice but to keep quiet and follow her out of her room.

***

Dinner only makes her mood worsen.

If she had any expectations of having a good time that night, those vanished as soon as she entered the room where almost everyone was already gathered.

Sitting between her brothers and their new fiancées, Alyssa finds herself lonelier than ever as Jace and Luke are absorbed in smiling and chatting with her cousins.

Even Aemond is ignoring her that night.

Sitting at the other end of the table, dressed entirely in black and with a posture that denotes his tension, her uncle has not looked at her once.

His good eye, that eye that had stared at her so intently that morning, is now fixed on Helaena of all people. Alyssa sips some wine from her glass and bites her tongue harder than necessary, annoyed at the attention Aemond isn't giving her.

But her annoyance turns to rage and disbelief when he speaks up to toast about his strong nephews. The insult, disguised as polite words, does not go unnoticed by anyone in the room. And Jace explodes. And suddenly Luke is being dominated by Aegon and the illusion of peace that seemed to exist is gone.

Daemon steps between Aemond and his stepsons and there is a brief exchange of glances. Rhaenyra intervenes as well and sends her children to their rooms. Alyssa wants to protest, eager to know what will happen next, but Jace takes her hand and leads her out of the room.

The three Velaryon brothers walk in silence toward Jace's room. Once there, Alyssa asks a maid to bring her water, cloths, and ointment for Luke.

"You shouldn't have fallen for his provocations" she reproaches them while she wipes her twin's face. A bruise clearly starting to form near his left temple.

"I couldn't allow him to continue making fun of us", Jace replies.

"And do you think you managed to do that with attitude tonight?" she glares at him, “The king himself advocated for Luke today, he affirmed our legitimacy and our rights. A few words from Aemond won't change anything."

"He's always been an idiot," Luke interjects.

Alyssa sighs and smears the ointment on his forehead, causing her brother to wince.

"Maybe it would be a good idea for you to drink milk of the poppy tonight," she proposes.

"It was just a punch, I can take it," Luke replies, clearly offended by the proposal.

“As you wish,” she puts the ointment on the table and stands up, “I better go back to my room. You two do the same and stay out of trouble tonight."

Jace waves her hand dismissively before wishing her good night.

***

Alyssa enters her room, takes off her heavy dress and undoes the braids, releasing her voluminous hair. A throbbing pain seems to be building up in her head.

Or maybe it's just the result of the disastrous dinner.

With a sigh she gets into her bed, but she can't sleep. While she moves uneasily between the sheets, the hours pass and she is fully aware that he is waiting for her under the weirwood, just like before.

But Alyssa doesn't even think of going to meet him.

***

"I still don't understand why they were so upset about your toast", says Helaena looking at him with innocence painted on her face, "You said very nice things about them"

Aegon lets out an amused chuckle from beside her.

For the first time in a long time, the three of them are together in the room that their older siblings have shared since they got married.

"I think you were brilliant, Aemond" says his brother while drinking a glass of wine, "You put those brats in their place"

Aemond clenches his fists. Rage had taken over him tonight, wreaking havoc on his family.

It was meant to be this way no matter what, says the voice inside his head. That whole dinner was just a charade.

"Mother seemed positively distraught," Aegon continues, smirking at him.

A pang of discomfort rises in Aemond. He hadn't wanted to upset Alicent, but he hadn't put up with Lucerys's insolence. He would have to talk to his mother in the morning.

Aegon continues to try to provoke him with his comments, but when Aemond doesn't respond, he ends up standing up and announcing his leaving.

Neither Helaena nor he asks where he is going. They both know very well that the night is just beginning for their brother. Helaena seems relieved to see him leave, her gaze drifting to the other side of the room, where the children are already asleep.

"I'm leaving too" says Aemond after a few moments.

"Be careful tonight," Helaena replies, her gaze lost somewhere in the room.

"Why…?"

"Just be careful. Desire and pain often come together," she continues dreamily.

Aemond sighs. His sister doesn't seem to notice his presence anymore, so he kisses her on the top of her head and leaves her room.

***

Aemond hasn't visited the godswood in years, but still he has no trouble finding the exact place where they used to meet when they were kids.

She hasn't arrived yet so he leans against the weirwood, prepared to wait for her.

Only the hour of the owl is almost over and it is clear that Alyssa Velaryon will not come to meet him.

For the second time that night, rage corrodes Aemond's body.

For the second time that night, a Velaryon thinks they can taunt him.

And Aemond won't permit it.

Ignoring the rational voice in his head that yells that it's a bad idea, he strides toward Alyssa's room.

Only this time he's not content to just stare at the door.

This time Aemond Targaryen enters the room without even announcing himself and closes the door behind him.

[tarlos-spain]

Flufftober Day 9

Prompt: Shooting Stars

Fandom: 911 Lone Star

Pairing: Carlos Reyes/TK Strand

Titile: Under the shooting stars

Carlos reached out, soon out of the sleeping bag. TK was not there. He sat up, his back protested because he wasn't used to sleeping on the ground, but he was enjoying the weekend camping trip.

He put on one of TK's sweatshirts and climbed out of the tent.

He liked to sleep in as little clothing as possible, but now he regretted not putting on sweatpants because he was cold.

TK was there, lying on the grass. He sat down next to him, but TK didn't seem to notice his presence.

"I hope I'm not disturbing."

TK turned to him, smiled and motioned for him to lie down beside him, but said nothing. As soon as he lay down, TK gestured again pointing to the sky for him to look up.

The stars were falling. It was the first shower of stars he had seen outside the city, in all their splendor and the truth was that they really seemed to fall on them, one after the other.

"I didn't want to wake you, these last few nights you've slept little and badly. You were snoring." TK said and Carlos tapped him on the arm. "What's wrong, it's good, you only snore when you sleep soundly."

Carlos looked up again and breathed heavily at the spectacle. But TK's movement to lean against his chest. It reminded him of the cat Aunt Lucia had that sat on her lap when she went to visit. He would fall asleep as soon as she would lay a hand on him and start stroking his head.

TK was the same way, all he had to do was intertwine his fingers in his boyfriend's hair and TK was asleep.

Not this time though. TK was looking up at the stars.

"Are you okay?" Carlos asked.

"I still can't believe we got married yesterday."

Carlos reached down to TK's back and scratched it. "Don't tell me you regret it already?"

"What are you saying?" TK sat up enough to be able to look him in the eye. "You're my husband, my husband, Carlos Strand-Reyes."

"Can we get back to thinking about that last name thing?"

"Whoever sees the next star first decides our married name." TK said smiling.

"Do you like to gamble, tiger?"

"You know it." TK replied and sat on top of Carlos for a moment. They looked at each other, TK leaned over his husband and kissed him on the lips. "You bet?"

"Only if you tell me what wish you're going to make with that star."

TK gave him another kiss. "But it's secret."

Carlos stared at him, grabbed the back of his neck and kissed him more roughly. "My wish is that before we've been married three years, we'll be parents."

TK nearly caromed to the floor, but he burst out laughing and lay down next to him.

"My wish is easy, Carlos. To be happy with you all our lives."

"Children?"

"With you, I want it all Carlos and by the way, Star!"

"Hey, that's no good! I wasn't ready."

"Tough luck." TK said laughing.

Carlos turned around, circled TK's body and started tickling him. "I demand a rematch."

TK exploded in laughter, because Carlos knew exactly where to touch him to make him die laughing. "And if I don't want to?"

Carlos leaned close to his ear. "Then you'll spend the night watching shooting stars, while I make love to you until we can't anymore."

"Then no revenge... Carlos... Strand-Reyes."

Carlos' smile was all TK could see for the next few hours, along with the juicy stars in the sky, until they both fell asleep there at dawn.

[holocene-sims]

next // previous

june 12, 2021 10:00 a.m. three lakes state park

[joseph] i sure do!

[grant] then why…

[joseph] why do i take you and your cousins out fishing?

[grant] so much for the “hey, let’s go fishing - it’ll be fun!” comment from this morning.

[joseph] it is fun! but not the fish part. the fun comes from spending all day with someone you love and talking.

[grant] see, i hate fishing, too, but i'll go because you and uncle paddy...well, i was going to say “enjoy it” but now my world is shaken to its core, so i guess i go just because you ask me to!

[joseph] oh, well, your uncle does like it.

[grant] what does he like about this exactly? actually, never mind. i feel like i know. he likes this for the same reason he booby-trapped his house and learned a bunch of “practical” skills like breaking locks and hot-wiring cars. he wants to be entirely self-sufficient in case the world collapses.

[joseph] and he doesn’t want to spend money. why buy fish at the store when you can get it yourself? ahh, your grandmother and i taught him too well. we meant for all of you to be self-reliant and to not blow through your money...but, well, you know.

[grant] you didn’t intend to raise a lowkey doomsday prepper?

[joseph] one got rich, one married rich, and the other gets it honest.

[grant] speaking of uncle paddy’s antics - so i was at therapy yesterday and my therapist was late because she got locked out of her car. turns out it was henry with the shoelace trick who got her back inside.

[joseph] your uncle was teaching your friends those tricks, too?!

[grant] oh definitely. i don’t think his parents knew about that but i think they’d be chill about it. besides, hey, his parents are friends with everyone in our family! if anyone is going to teach him some weird practical skills, better it be through family friends and not, like, um, weird internet forums.

[joseph] there’s stuff about that on the internet?

[grant] the less you know about the internet is probably better.

[joseph] fair enough! i can use my cell phone and that’s all i care to know.

[grant] so why lie about fishing? just curious. is it because you don’t want to ruin the good fun of the hanging out part of it?

[joseph] sure, mostly! if i admit to it, then if i ever ask, you’ll all say no because you kids all don’t much like it either.

[grant] awww no! we’d never say no! we love you too much to disappoint you like that.

[joseph] you’re too sweet. but you know, my dad used to bring me out here to fish a long time ago. i guess i can’t let go of that either.

[grant] oh really? he did?

[joseph] you never met him, my dad. he died well before any of you kids were born. the last person to meet him was your aunt bridget but she wasn’t very old when he died either so she doesn’t remember him well.

[grant] would i have liked him?

[joseph] no. probably not. haha! he was old-school, strict and not very open-minded, and he didn’t have a lot of care for emotions. he also didn’t talk a whole lot. he talked a lot less after my mom killed herself, which i suppose i understand. i respected him for trying to make a living for us, though. but about fishing: i didn’t see him much growing up because he was busy working all day in the mines but when he had time, he would bring me out here–and i really mean right here–to fish.

[grant] so it was his way of showing affection?

[joseph] sure was. i can’t even blame him. he lived a hard life. i don’t think he knew much better. i appreciated his attempts for what they were.

[grant] kind of sounds like my dad.

[joseph] there’s a strong resemblance, that’s for certain.

[joseph] my dad used to bring me here, too, when he had something to tell me. i guess he didn’t know how to have a regular emotional conversation either. i'd always know when it was one of those days where he had a lesson for me or something serious to share. he’d be more quiet than usual and that’s saying something. we’d come out here before daylight, fish in silence for a long while, and when he was ready for lunch, he’d give me that look–i guess a fatherly look–and he’d finally talk.

[grant] it’s kind of sweet. no, i mean, it is sweet. it’s sweet in a very old school old man kind of way.

[joseph] i think he was a good man, you know? we didn’t get each other but i knew he loved me and i guess i loved him, too. he tried his best.

[grant] i get that. sometimes you dislike a person for how they are but you love them as a figure anyway.

[grant] so when does my life lesson start?

[joseph] oh, it’s already started.

[ruminate88]

Fake It Till You Make It? 🥴

My aunt and my uncle said to me before “I’ve never seen anyone love someone so much as your husband loves you” 😭😭😭😭 I was thinking in my head “I just don’t see it or believe it” BUT WHY CANT I????

The first year of marriage I got cellulitis in my blood stream at Christmas and had to be hospitalized for 4 days hooked up so many I.Vs all full saline and antibiotics to basically cleanse all that stuff out of my system. I was all swollen and exhausted. You can not rest in a hospital. My husband only left my side one time ever to rush home and take a quick shower and change his clothes. The antibiotics they gave me, made me extremely nauseous so they had to give me a separate shot to cure the nausea but then THAT shot made me drowsy to where I couldn’t keep awake. Yet they kept waking me up every hour to check my vitals and make sure I wasn’t getting worse. I would say to my new man “go home and play your video games, I’m just laying here sleeping anyhow. You are probably bored and uncomfortable sitting there.”

My husband refused to leave my side… Now, I was grateful and trying to trust him with all my strength. I felt close to him somewhat but not completely. Even after Christmas, I pushed and pushed to feel close to him. I was planning our future. Our kids and old age. My husband has even talked about “when we’re older” and it almost makes me cringe 😫 ugh it sucks!!!!!!!

This morning even, before the alarm went off. I purposely laid my head over on his chest so he could wrap me up 🥺❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹 I told myself “this is what you want. This is real. He loves you and he IS trustworthy.” God please I want to believe it and feel it. I’ve been so disconnected and frustrated in my heart. My husband has been the most real and genuine guy I know. When he talks about his job, I feel like he really wants to be a good employee and make his boss look good. When he talks about his family, I sense he truly has their back and puts them first. When he talks about other people, I NEVER hear him say a bad word about someone unless he thinks they’re a really bad person…. Like, he’s sooo real.

Every time my husband has made any mistake tho, I’ve jumped into the overthinking, over analyzing and worrying, that, “oh what if he’s been pretending just like Andrew did?? What if he’s been lying all this time??” 😖 it’s miserable to live like this!!!! I HATE IT!!!!!!

This *invisible wall* in front of me, has me working harder than I’ve ever had trying to either get around it, jump over it or even go through it. HOW DO I REMOVE THE EMOTIONAL BARRIER???? I mean, I intentionally married my husband. I said yes to him and chose him. (Despite being trauma bonded to Andrew and forcing myself to block his number and walk away) I know I believed my new man was nicer than any of my exes and he could respect me more than anyone else!! Just…. I can’t feel it. I’ve tried to fake it till I make it. (Basically that’s awful but I mean, I couldn’t trust myself after Andrew.)

Some days I’ve cried inside so hard thinking Andrew and Cody stole my ability to feel love but that’s a lie!!!! I just know it is. They didn’t steal my ability, they broke my trust. I have to rebuild trust daily and I’m trying so freakin hard. I’ve talked to my mom in law a little bit about it and she said it was emotionally mature of me to recognize my problem and accept accountability for it. 🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻

My husband sometimes treats me like he’s my “father” too even though I’m a lot older than him lol and he purposely gets over protective. Yet he buys me stuff as his way to “show love” and I have trouble accepting the gifts cuz I don’t feel like I deserve anything nor do I want gifts. I just want to feel good. I just always feel bad for my past. I’ve felt so much guilt and shame from Andrew. Andrew slut shamed me so much for sending him my nudes even though he’s asking for them and flirting with me. Lying to me that he loved me when he was just using me. 💔

I’m working to forgive myself too not just Andrew or Cody or Jake. It’s been a long road and so difficult but a learning process too. I am daily convincing myself my exes lied to me and that my husband is everything I’ve ever wanted and needed….. I’ve got so much to work on and do better at. ONE DAY AT A TIME ❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹

[keanureevesisbae]

hi congratz on 1.6k! you deserve it. do you have any scenes of one of your fics you have never posted before?

I actually have. I wrote this very basic and plain outline when I was planning ‘Serendipity’ and this was one of the scenes. However, it didn’t end up making the cut, because later on, when I established the relationship between Winnie and her nieces and nephews, it just didn’t fit the story anymore. 

I would be very cruel if I didn’t show it to you, wouldn’t I? Enjoy 😘

The familiar FaceTime tune fills my living room the day after I had a drunk Chrissy and a tipsy Julia over. I try to find my phone by following the tune, but apparently my hearing is severely impaired, because I have been running circles for a little too long now. I finally find my phone behind the couch (no idea how it got there) and pick up. 

‘Hi there,’ I say, brushing some stray hairs out of my face. ‘How is my little man?’

Thomas, my only nephew, looks into the camera. ‘Good, where are you?’

‘I’m at home,’ I say, walking back to the kitchen. ‘Oh no, fuck!’ I exclaim, realizing I had something on the highest setting of the stove, which now is maybe completely ruined. Oh wait, I’m on the phone with an eight year old, I probably shouldn’t swear. ‘Don’t tell your parents I said the f-word, promise me?’

He chuckles. ‘I promise,’ he says. ‘I miss you.’

‘I miss you too, sweetie pie. Why you’re not at school?’ I ask, after propping my phone somewhere, so I can clean this mess. Oh no, I have to eat ramen again. Bummer. ‘It’s around eleven where you are, right?’

‘It’s Saturday, aunt Winnie.’

Right… ‘I’m so sorry, but I’m a mess. Wait until you’re thirty and still single and maybe you can relate.’

Thomas obviously does not understand me, and for that I don’t blame him. I’m usually very good with children, but now I’m totally flunking. It’s a good thing the kid is wearing some headphones, so his parents don’t hear me.

‘So, how is school?’ I ask him.

‘Good, I had to write an essay about someone I admire.’

‘Lemme guess: you wrote it about grandpa.’

‘No,’ he says.

‘No? You must be the first one from the family who hasn’t written that essay about grandpa. Who did you write it about, kid?’

 ‘I wrote it about you.’

Well, I have never… ‘Why?’ I ask, staring into the camera, visibly confused. ‘Thomas, you have an entire family filled with admirable people and you pick me? Seriously? Honey, I’m the least admirable of the bunch.’

‘No,’ he says, ‘I disagree. You moved to Brooklyn, that’s cool.’

The bar is so low. ‘I see,’ I chuckle. ‘Well, maybe this summer you can visit me again. I really like having you here.’

‘I like being with you.’ 

Thomas is an exact copy of his dad: the same blue eyes, the big grin and fluffy chocolate brown curls. The kid is a darling.

‘Did you already get back your grade for the essay?’

Thomas shakes his head. ‘Nope, but I saw miss Leigh smile when she read it, so that must be good.’

It amazes me that miss Leigh is still teaching. Don’t get me wrong, she’s wonderful and probably the sweetest teacher in the entirety of Oregon, but she was already a fossil when I was younger.

‘Aunt Winnie,’ he says, ‘we’re having career days in the last few months of the school year. Would you like to be there when it’s my turn?’ he carefully asks. 

It’s no lie that Thomas is really keen on me. From all his (great-)aunts and uncles, it’s obvious I’m his favorite. Over these passed few years, since everyone got married and had kids and I was the cool aunt who lived in another state, I have gained the admirable status from the little ones. 

But sometimes it hurts to see Thomas missing me so much and it’s moments like that, where I realize that I miss him a lot as well. 

‘Well, I wouldn’t want to miss it for the world,’ I say, ‘so I’m gonna try my hardest to be there. Remember though, always have a back up, okay? In case I can’t come.’

He nods. ‘Will do.’

‘So, have your mom send me the details and then ask if uncle Fritz will be the back up. He’s rich and has cool cars.’ I wink at Thomas and add: ‘Bet the kids in your class would love that.’ 

[typical-simplelove]

On Your Right (M. Tkachuk)

Author's Note: The longest one-shot I have ever written is for @raysofcrosby for @antoineroussel's Summer Fic Exchange; this is my first exchange, so hopefully, I did well. Thanks to Demi for organizing this! I truly had a blast working on this. I hope you enjoy this!! I used inspo from To All the Boys I've Loved Before and Bridgerton for this. Enjoy reading!

Summary: When you and Matthew both find yourself needing dates to individual events, Matthew proposes a plan where you both fake date. He suggests that he, who's been in love with you since the age of ten, and you, who is convinced Matthew hates you, date. What could possibly go wrong?

Word Count: 21.4k

Warnings: the time may not coincide with the way time works, but ignore that; hatred; friends hating each other; Matthew being an ass; fake dating; mentions of sex (nothing explicit or too NSFW, though); planes; only one bed

Sitting on the patio chair of the Tkachuk's deck was exactly how you expected to spend a Sunday afternoon in the early weeks of summer vacation. For the past ten years, it's the exact way you've always spent your Sunday afternoons in the summer. It was always the same. Your mother and Chantal would be in the kitchen with the air conditioning, and your dad and Keith would be at the grill making dinner. What they would make would change, but it would usually be somewhere between burgers and hotdogs to chicken or salmon. It was always a surprise. They'd never tell the kids not wanting any complaining. You always sat in a chair with Taryn on your left and with Matthew on your right. Across from you sat your brother and Brady next to him. Keith always sat at one head and Chantal at the other. Your dad sat in the seat next to Keith, and your mother sat next to Chantal. You would always drink lemonade, and your brother would drink iced tea. You never got to drink that at home, so you and your brother would make sure to share your cups. Sometimes, Matthew would drink a pop of his choice and share it with you. If it rained, the Tkachuks would go to your home, and the seating situation was the same around your dining room table.

Chantal and your mother would insist that you kids couldn't play inside at these Sunday afternoon dinners. Sometimes, your brother and the boys would play soccer and maybe let you and Taryn join. Oftentimes, though, you and Taryn would hang out together. Sometimes, Matthew would play with you and Taryn, and you'd all play family. You and Matthew would be married parents, and Taryn would be your daughter. If your brother and Brady chose to join, Taryn would be the aunt, and Brady and your brother would be the children. Taryn always joked that life should always end up that way -- you and Matthew married with Taryn as the aunt to your children. When she'd bring up the topic, your mother and Chantal would always give each other a knowing look as if they knew something you both didn't. Your dad wouldn't say anything, but Keith would pat his shoulder, again, as if they knew something you didn't. Brady and your brother would gag and tease Matthew. You and Matthew never said anything; you both were close friends, some would argue best friends, but it didn't matter. You knew that Matthew would be someone who would always be in your life. In your life, ages 5-10, you didn't understand the notion of marriage. All you knew was that you wanted Matthew to be in your life, and if it was marriage, then so be it.

Despite expecting to be sitting on that patio chair, you never expected you'd be watching Taryn, Brady, Matthew, and your brother playing while you sat there by yourself. It wasn't that they weren't including you, but they also weren't not not including you. They all decided to play your least favorite game, and you didn't want to, so you decided to sit and watch. There's more to it, though. The school year ended just the previous week, and you and Matthew graduated from elementary school and would be going to middle school. Somewhere within the past few weeks. Matthew went from being one of your closest friends to hating you. He just suddenly decided he didn't like you. You weren't sure why, but he just stopped being your friend. You told your mother you were sick so as not to have to come to the Tkachuk's today, but she said no. She saw right through your lie. You didn't know why Matthew didn't want to be your friend anymore, but it hurt. It hurt a lot. No longer were the days where you and Matthew would pretend to be a married couple. No more were the days where Matthew would share his pop with you. No more were the days where Matthew was your closest friend.

When Chantal called for dinner, you ran to the washroom to wash your hands and sat back in your usual spot. Despite knowing Matthew's recent emotions towards you, you hoped he'd still sit next to you. You watched as Taryn returned from washing her hands and began to apologize for not playing a game you liked. You told her it was okay, it was, and watched your brother take his seat across from you, as normal. You watched Brady put the toys away and go to the washroom to wash his hands. You watched as Keith and your father put the grilled chicken on the table, and Chantal and your mother set the sides on the table. Finally, Matthew emerged from the house, but what he did next confused you. He sat in Brady's usual seat.

"What are you doing, Matthew?" Brady asks when he sees where his brother is sitting. Matthew glares at you and shrugs.

"I just want to sit next here, today," Matthew says with anger in his voice. You weren't sure why he was suddenly so angry, but the look he had as he stared at you sent chills down your spine. That's when you knew. That's when you knew that Matthew hated you. He doesn't like you anymore, and you doubted he ever would You didn’t know it, then, but you now know that when Matthew opted to sit in a different seat and treat you with anger, he broke your heart.

Matthew Tkachuk broke your heart at the age of ten.

. . .

With Matthew out of the picture as a friend, you found yourself growing closer to your other friends. One friend, in particular, became your closest friend, Shelly. You and Shelly became the best of friends and stuck together through middle school, high school, and college. It was Shelly who convinced you that it would be a good idea to move to Calgary despite your hated family friend living there.

"Shelly, I don't think so," you tell her. "Actually, I know so."

"Come on, Ynn," Shelly eggs on. "Do it for me? I'm getting married! Please, can you bring a date? Actually, it's a must thing. I'm telling you that you have to bring a date. That's the only thing I need from you."

"So, the only thing I need to do as your maid of honor is to bring a date?"

"I mean, no? But, the wedding is in two months, and most of the stuff I've needed you to do has been done. Just this one thing, okay? I think you'll enjoy it much better if you have someone to hang out with. Who knows, maybe you’ll fall in love with him and marry him, and I can be your maid of honor."

"Fine," you grumble. "But, only because I love you."

You hang up the phone and groan. How were you supposed to find a date? You had a few work friends in Calgary, but you found it difficult to find a date. The one thing that annoyed you the most was that you had two months to find someone you liked and trusted enough to bring to St. Louis for a wedding. What were you going to do?

Now, a month later, you were standing outside one certain door you never thought you would with a plate of cookies, their favorite cookies, and angry that this was your last resort. You knock on the door of the apartment and await the smirk and comment you were bound to get.

"Well, well, well, if it isn't my biggest admirer, Yn Yln," Matthew says with his signature smirk. Yup, you guessed it.

"Matthew," you grumble and walk into his apartment as he welcomes you inside. "Here are some cookies."

Matthew takes the plate from you, opens it up, and bites into a cookie. "Thank you," he says with a mouthful of cookies. You grimace at the sight and remind yourself about the task at hand. "You know, when you called me, I forgot you were in Calgary. Why haven't you ever called me before to hang out?"

"You're serious?"

"Very."

"Maybe the small fact that we've hated each other since we were like ten? Or, how about that time you spilled water down my dress at our joint eighth-grade graduation party? Or, how about that time you spilled Gatorade on my English project? Or, how about that time you told everyone we were dating when you clearly know WE WEREN'T. Or, how about that time you took my car keys and hid them at the bottom of your hockey bag in the men's locker room? Would you like me to continue? I can keep going as far as you need."

"No, no, I get the point. No need to remind me," Matthew tells you. He internally cringes at his actions growing up, but he has too much pride to apologize. "Anyways, that was when we were growing up and in high school. I haven't treated you like that in ages."

Matthew knows he shouldn't have said that immediately when he sees the glare you give him. "I have a list if you'd like for me to list it out?"

"Okay, fine, message understood. You hate me, and I hate you because of it. What do you need? You called me pretty frantically."

You narrow your eyes at Matthew. "Firstly, I did not call you frantically. I called you asking if I could ask for a favor. Secondly, I only hate you because you hate me. Third, I need your help with something."

"Okay, firstly, yes you did. Second, maybe that's right. Third, just tell me."

"Can you set me up with a teammate or a friend of yours for me to take to Shelly's wedding?" you blurt out in one breath.

"What?" Matthew laughs breathlessly, not sure if he heard you right.

"I need a date for Shelly's wedding, and I need you to set me up with someone you trust, please."

"You don't have a boyfriend?"

"No," you grumble out, and Matthew laughs at you. "It's not like you have a girlfriend or anything."

"Wow, look at you. Firing shots, huh?"

"Matthew, can you or can you not set me up with someone you know and trust?"

"Sure, I'll see who I can find."

"Great, thank you," you say and make your way to leave.

"Where are you going?" Matthew asks, furrowing his eyebrows.

"Home?"

"You just came here to ask me that and leave?"

"It's not like we're friends or anything," you say blatantly. Matthew is shocked by your words and takes a visible step back. He isn't sure why your words shocked him so much because he knows you're both not friends. He knows for a fact you're both not friends but hearing you actually say it after all these years is shocking to him.

"Right, not friends. You can leave then. You can take your cookies back."

"No, no, I made them for you. I know they're your favorite. Thanks, again, Matthew."

"Sure, sure," he says as you walk out the door. He locks the door behind you and is instantly confused why he hates that you're both not friends. He knows you’re not friends. Both his and your actions over the past years have proven it, but he thought — he actually doesn't know what he thought. As the season came to an end, Matthew had another task at hand — finding someone for you to take as a date even though he knows no one he knows is good enough for you.

. . .

Matthew was sitting at the bar with his teammates sizing them all up wondering which one would be good enough for you to have as a date. There was Noah; Matthew guesses he could be okay with you with him, but Matthew knows you could do better. There was Jacob, and Matthew knew he'd treat you well. Maybe he should ask Jacob if he'd join you as a date.

"Matthew, why do you keep staring at us?" Noah asks.

"I have someone I know who needs help finding a date for a wedding this summer," Matthew explains. "This person I know asked if I could set them up with someone I know and trust."

"Do you need a guy? If so, then go with Jacob. He'll treat your friend, right," Elias says.

"Yn's not my friend," Matthew is quick to say.

"Is she someone you’re more than friends with?" Noah asks with a smirk on his face.

"No, absolutely not," Matthew says as he vehemently shakes his head. "No, we've hated each other since we were like ten."

"Why are you helping her, then?"

Matthew just stares at Noah. Why was he helping you? You both weren’t friends, as you made abundantly clear the other day. Matthew didn’t know why he was helping you. You were a long-time family friend and by far one of the most amazing people he’s ever met. But, that didn’t answer the question as to why he was helping you. You were someone amazing, yet Matthew still can’t seem to pinpoint why he was helping you. Matthew knows that if he doesn’t help you Chantal would have his head. Maybe, just maybe, it was the small, no large, crush he’s harbored for you since you were both ten. Maybe, just maybe, he truly, deep down cared about who you dated if it couldn’t be him. “I’m not sure,” Matthew deflects knowing fully why he was helping you.

“Maybe you should strike her a deal,” Mark mentions. “You find her a date for the wedding, and she finds you a date for the End-of-Year Charity Gala.”

Matthew perks his head up towards his captain. He forgot about the Gala.

“Oh no, Matthew has a smirk on his face. What’s your idea?” Noah says suspiciously.

“Nothing,” Matthew says, not losing his smirk. He has one splendid idea that he is sure to solve both your dating issues.

. . .

Matthew: I have a date for you. He’ll come over tomorrow at 5 pm with flowers, okay?

Yn: Okay, sounds good! I can’t wait to meet him.

Matthew: You’ll love him.

Matthew knows you won’t. Based on what his plan was, he knew you wouldn’t like it. He only hoped you wouldn’t slap him across the face.

. . .

The day after Matthew texted you and said when your date would show up, you were nervous. Incredibly nervous. You hoped that, for once, Matthew wouldn’t be an ass and set you up with someone nice. You were pacing around your kitchen and 4:58 pm when the doorbell rang. You stood up straight and took a deep breath. You could do this. You weren’t going to actually date the guy; you were just going to ask him to accompany you to a wedding back home and that was it. You walked over to the door and took a deep breath before opening the door.

“Matthew?” you ask in disbelief as you lock eyes with Matthew’s striking blue eyes. You give him a once-over and notice he’s wearing a white shirt, a tight shirt that fits him way too well, and black dress pants. What was with the fancy wear? You meet his eyes again, and you’re met with his eyes full of love, happiness, and worry as they stare deep into your eyes. You’ve yet to ever see this mix of emotion in Matthew’s eyes when he looks at you, and it sends a shiver down your spine. You and Matthew continue staring deeply into each other’s eyes, both not wanting to break the trance you’ve found yourself in.

“Hey, Yn,” Matthew finally says, realizing who he was looking at. He hands you the bouquet of your favorite flowers. “These are for you.”

“Oh, um, come in,” you say and usher him inside. You hate him, Yn. Stop with these emotions, you keep telling yourself. Why did he suddenly have this effect on you? Matthew walks into your apartment, takes his shoes off, and sits on a chair at your counter. “What are you doing here?”

“I’m your date,” Matthew says nervously, but you still see the love lining his eyes as you speak. You haven’t seen that look directed to you in a while.

“No, absolutely not. We hate each other, remember? Why would I suddenly bring you as a date?”

“Look, before you go crazy, just listen to what I have to say, okay?” Matthew asks softly. You nod and turn away to put the flowers in a vase. You make sure your back is to Matthew because you don’t want him to see how flustered you are by his soft tone towards you.

After placing the flowers in a vase and placing it on the coffee table, you say, “Okay, Matthew, what do you have to say?”

“You know how at the end of the season, the Flames have an End-of-Year Charity Gala?” you shake your head no, and Matthew chuckles softly, and your faith grows warm. “Well, we have one, and I need to bring a date.”

“Okay?”

“So, what if we pretend to date? Like, you come with me to the gala, and I go with you to Shelly’s wedding,” Matthew proposes nervously.

“Why would you want that, Matthew? You hate me.”

“I don’t — I couldn’t ha— you know what? It doesn’t matter. Look, you need a date, and I need a date, so why don’t we just go together and solve both our problems?”

“Matthew, I don’t know.”

“Yn, come on. What’s stopping you?”

“You hate me, Matthew,” you tell him softly, not meeting Matthew’s eyes.

Matthew sighs. He could never hate you. He never really hated you; he just had to pretend to hate you because of how he felt. When Matthew was ten, he realized that he had a crush on you. He realized he like liked you, and he didn’t know what to do about it, so he just ignored you and was mean to you. Unfortunately, over the years, Matthew couldn’t let go of those feelings, and he fell more and more for you as he watched you grow into the beautiful person you are now. Seeing you walk into this apartment with the cookies the other day, Matthew realized that he was still hopelessly in love with you. At first, Matthew thought that he could find a date for you. He could find someone who was perfect for you because everyone knows that he could never be it for you, but, as he began going through his list of friends, he realized that even they weren’t good enough for you. Matthew knew you’d never feel the same way about him, but if Matthew can have you as a fake girlfriend, then that’s what he’ll have, then. “We both don’t want to find a date for our events, so why don’t we just pretend to date, then?”

You look at Matthew and see the sincerity in his eyes. You see the longing and want for you to say yes. You’ve always loved looking into Matthew’s eyes and seeing the emotion in them. You’ve never seen this kind of emotion directed towards you. You see the longing and sadness and wishing for you to say yes; however, you also see love? You couldn’t possibly be seeing that in his eyes. Could you? “Okay,” you whisper, suddenly being overwhelmed with what you saw laced in Matthew’s eyes and facial expressions.

“Okay?” Matthew asks, confirming because he was in disbelief.

“Yeah, okay. We can fake date.”

Matthew rushes over to you and wraps you in a giant hug. “Thank you,” he whispers as he holds you tightly.

“Of course, Matthew. You had a good idea that helped us both.”

Matthew leaves shortly after with a fake girlfriend and a wide smile on his face. He only hoped that he wouldn’t fall harder for you now that he’s finally somehow got you.

. . .

Matthew came over two weeks later, one day before the Flames’ last game, to sort out the terms of your and Matthew’s fake dating ruse. You weren’t sure why you agreed to this. No one back home would believe that you and Matthew were dating. You both have hated each other for as long as you can remember. Everyone would be shocked that you and Matthew can possibly stand to be in the same room together. The fact that you moved to the same city was also a giant shock to everyone. Not a single person would believe it, but why did your heart suddenly race when you thought of you and Matthew fake dating? Why did your pulse quicken at the thought of being on Matthew’s arm at the Gala? Why did you enjoy the cheeky messages Matthew has been sending you and telling you that he was trying to “fill the role perfectly”? Why did your heart hurt when you realized it was all fake?

“I brought some takeout, is that good?” Matthew asks as he steps into your apartment. In his hands, he has a bag of food from your favorite restaurant in Calgary and another bouquet. You take the bag of food and the flowers from his hand, and Matthew goes into your cupboards to find some plates. The domesticity of the situation made your heart lurch through your chest, but you still weren’t sure why.

“That’s perfect, thanks, Matthew,” you tell him with a smile as Matthew sets the plates down on the counter. You place the flowers in another vase and put them next to the flowers Matthew brought previously that were probably ready to be tossed. “You don’t have to buy me flowers every time you come by.”

“Firstly, it’s been like two times, and secondly, let me treat you, okay? I am your boyfriend, after all, so I might as treat you as you deserve to be treated,” Matthew tells you as if he was preaching fact. He talked to you as if he didn’t hate you your entire life and only just started liking you.

“Fake boyfriend,” you correct. You want to make sure that the parameters of your relationship are clearly defined.

“You tell that to Shelly? That you and I are fake dating?” Matthew asks with a smirk.

“I told her I had a date, and I was going to tell her it was you, but she told me to surprise her on her wedding day. I’m convinced she thinks I don’t have a date,” you tell Matthew and take a bite of food. You moan in delight, and Matthew grins knowing he picked the perfect meal for you. “How did you know this was my favorite?”

Matthew shrugs, but a playful smile is a dead giveaway that he has an explanation. “I guess I just know you really well.”

“That’s ridiculous, Matthew. You do not know me at all. I’ve changed since you stopped being my friend when we were ten.”

“Hey! I did not stop being your friend. You stopped being my friend,” Matthew feigns hurt even though he knows your words are right.

“Matthew, I stopped being your friend because you stopped being friends with me.”

“That’s not how I remember it,” Matthew mumbles and opting to look down at his plate instead of at you where he’d much rather be looking.

“You stopped being my friend after we graduated from elementary school. I remember that the third Sunday dinner we had that summer was the first time you stopped sitting next to me, and I knew that you were officially not my friend anymore.”

“You sure that’s what happened, Yn? Are you sure that it wasn’t you who stopped being my friend?”

“I always sat in the same middle seat, Matthew. You opted to sit in Brady’s seat instead.”

“Fine, whatever. Agree to disagree?”

“Sure, sure, even though I’m right.”

Matthew laughs at your words and shakes his head. “How we were ever friends baffles me because we are both so stubborn.”

“That we are,” you agree, and a comfortable silence fills your kitchen as you and Matthew continue to eat.

“You know,” Matthew says breaking the silence, “I do know you better than you think.”

“As do I,” you tell him not meeting his eye. You always were quite observant of Matthew despite you two not being friends anymore. There was something about him that made you want to look at him. No, it probably wasn’t because of how gorgeous he was.

“Okay, you tell me something about myself, then.”

“What do you want me to say?”

“I don’t know, Yn; you just say something.”

“But I want you to tell me what you want me to say,” you tease.

“I’m starting to think you don’t know anything about me,” Matthew gives you his signature smirk.

“I’m starting to think the same about you.”

Matthew sighs and shakes his head. “How about we talk about our situation instead?”

“Our ruse?” you tease and quirk your eyebrows.

“Sure, our ruse,” Matthew says, not sure why you had that look on your face. “What is our story? We could just say we hooked up and realized that we liked each other.”

“As much as that story is believable, I don’t think that Shelly will believe that. Why don’t we go with something else? How about: I was lonely in the city and needed someone familiar, so I called you, and the rest just fell together.”

“I don’t think they’ll believe that,” Matthew says. As much as he loves and thinks it’s a good story, he’d very much rather have a bit more romantic and loving story, so Matthew can have the fake relationship he’d always wanted with you.

“Oh, come on, Matthew, it’s perfect!” you pout, and Matthew knows he’s going to bend for you because it’s you. He always bent to your will regardless of whether or not you knew it.

“Fine, we’ll use your story. How long have we been dating?”

“Why don’t we just keep it vague to minimize any questions? Should we say a few months now? Anything longer will be suspicious, and anything shorter would be weird. The most we can say is three to three and a half months because when I talked to Shelly about two months ago, she was under the impression I wasn’t seeing anyone.”

“Okay, fair. You know,” Matthew says with a smirk, “the fact that you’re able to throw together the perfect fake-dating story makes me think that you’ve done this before.”

You burst out laughing. “You seriously think that? I thought you knew me.”

“I do know you.”

“Then you’d know I’m a hopeless romantic, and the amount of times I’ve read fake dating romance novels is unbelievable. The only thing, though, is that our story won’t end up with us dating but with us maybe being friends.”

“Right,” Matthew says, and he looks down at his plate sadly realizing you truly didn’t feel the same way.

“I’m sorry, did I say anything wrong?” you apologize. You weren’t sure why Matthew suddenly got upset, but you thought it couldn’t have possibly been your words. How could it? You and Matthew have hated each other for years. It’d be ridiculous to think that this ruse would end in an actual relationship.

“No, not at all. Don’t worry,” Matthew sends you a soft smile, and your stomach does somersaults. “What about physical stuff?”

You glare at Matthew trying to figure out exactly what he was asking for in this fake relationship. “Explain because if you’re trying to sleep with me, it’s not happening.”

“No, Yn, of course not! That’s not what I meant!” Matthew replies shocked that you’d even bring up the notion. “No, I meant like holding hands, my arms wrapped around you, kissing and stuff like that. Things that couples do, you know?”

“Oh, yeah, um, I guess we could hold hands and touch each other to keep up the facade, but only in public.”

Matthew nods. “Only in public.”

You make moves to clear the table, but Matthew stops you and clears the table for you. “Sit, I’ll take care of it.”

“Matthew —” you begin.

“Nope, my fake girlfriend doesn’t need to clear her table, so sit down.”

“Maybe you should be my fake-boyfriend forever if you’re going to be clearing my table and stuff like this.”

“I mean if you’d like,” Matthew smirks and sends you a wink. He continues cleaning up by placing the dishes in the dishwasher and placing the leftovers in a Tupperware container and inside the fridge. You’re watching him concentrate on the task at hand, and suddenly, you’re drawn to his lips. You were drawn to the way he bit his lip in concentration and licked the bottom lip now and then. You watched the way he’d stop biting his lips and realize that you want to be the one to bite his lip. You wanted to kiss Matthew.

“Hey, um, Matthew?” you begin hesitantly.

“Mmm,” he replies looking up.

“Should we, um, kiss?” your eyes don’t meet Matthew’s, and you’re intent on staring at the tiles on the floor of your kitchen instead.

“I mean, sure, when we’re out in public. It’d be weird if we didn’t, right?”

“Right,” you nod knowingly and happy that Matthew didn’t realize the true meaning of your request. You look up and notice him watching you curiously. The sparkle in his eyes makes your face warm under his gaze, and you know that he’s figured out what you were truly thinking.

“Or,” he begins with a smirk, “we could practice now, so we know what to do when we kiss in front of people.”

“I think that’s a good idea,” you whisper, barely audible.

Matthew, being the pest he is, smirks at your words and asks you to repeat them. “I couldn’t hear you, baby. I need you to repeat it.”

“I think that we should practice kissing,” you say again, slightly louder, but Matthew’s shit-eating grin tells you that you’re going to have to repeat yourself.

“Come on, baby, I need to hear you loud and clear,” he walks over to you, and you shift in your seat to face him. You stand up, so you’re level with him (as much as you can be considering his height), and Matthew puts his hands on your waist. “This okay?” he asks, and you nod, but when he raises his eyebrows, you know you have to give him audible consent.

“Yes, Matthew, and I think that you should kiss me,” you tell him loud and clear. Matthew’s grin widens, and he dips his head towards yours. You put your hands around his neck, and he pulls you closer to him.

“This okay?” he asks with concern lacing his features. He didn’t want to overstep any boundaries with you.

“More than okay,” you reply and lean towards him. Matthew dips his head towards yours and places his lips softly on yours. He planned on pulling back and that being the end of the kiss, but his instincts and strong desire to kiss you stopped him. Matthew’s hands leave your waist and cup your face. He holds you forcefully but also gently. You both deepen the kiss, and your mouth separates as Matthew works his mouth against yours. Your tongue swipes against his bottom lip begging to meet his. Matthew puts his hands back on your waist and pulls you close and flush against his body. There’s no space between the two of you, not a single inch of air. You both pull away after the kiss crossed the line between what your relationship truly was. You both pull away but your heads are still close to each other. You’re looking into Matthew’s blue eyes that are laced with longing and desire. You watch Matthew’s eyes glance down to your lips as you long for his lips to be on yours again.

“We have the practice, now,” Matthew says in a deep voice, almost huskily.

“That we do,” you reply softly.

“I didn’t hurt you, right?”

“Absolutely not, Matthew. I would have slapped you if you stepped out of line,” you tell him, and Matthew’s deep chuckle sends the butterflies erupting in your stomach. You take a step back from Matthew and sit back in your chair. “Maybe if we kiss in front of people, it shouldn’t be that deep and passionate.”

“Yeah, maybe not,” Matthew tells you. He loved kissing you. Now that he’s kissed you, he doesn’t want to kiss anyone else. He wants to keep kissing you for as long as you would possibly let him. “Oh, that reminds me.”

“Mmhm?”

“I may or may not have let the cat slip out of the bag that I had a girlfriend, and now the team is expecting you to be at the last game tomorrow and our celebration.”

“Matthew!”

“I know, I know, I wasn’t supposed to. I didn’t mean to, it just slipped out!”

“How does it just slip out?”

“Some people asked if I had a date for the Gala, and I said I was bringing my girlfriend.”

“So, I have to go to the game tomorrow?”

“Please?” Matthew pouts. “I’ll owe you big time.”

“You already owe me big time,” you point out.

“Fine, just come to the game tomorrow? You don’t have to wear my jersey or anything, just come?”

“I’ll be there, and if you give me a jersey, I’ll wear it, okay? Or, I can just wear Brady’s.”

“No, never. Wait, why do you have Brady’s jersey and not mine?”

“Doesn’t matter.”

“Sure, I have to go, but I’ll see you tomorrow?” Matthew asks as he walks over to the door. You walk with him and unlock the door.

“See you tomorrow, fake boyfriend,” you tell him and place a kiss on his cheek.

“Tomorrow, fake girlfriend,” Matthew says and walks out the door. When the door is closed, he places his hands on his cheek where you kissed him. He touches his lips softly remembering how you kissed him just recently. Just remembering your mouth being anywhere near his face made him melt. Matthew was digging himself into a hole he only hoped he’d be able to escape from.

. . .

You walked up to the Friends & Family box still trying to recover from Matthew kissing you barely twenty-four hours prior. You didn’t have Matthew’s jersey to wear, so you opted for a red shirt with jeans and a leather jacket. You’ve also never met anyone on the team before, so you were scared as to what they would say.

You stepped into the box and were instantly overwhelmed with what you saw. All the other wives and girlfriends and children were mingling around, and you felt out of place. One of the WAGs walked over to you, and said, “You must be Yn, Matthew’s girlfriend.”

You nodded, “Yeah, that would be me.”

“I’m Annica, Elias’s girlfriend. Don’t worry about being nervous or whatever, Matthew is crazy about you, so we’re automatically crazy about you, too! Everyone, this is Yn, Matthew’s girlfriend.”

You stood there as everyone introduced themselves, and you maybe remembered two of those names.

“Matthew left you a jersey because he knew you didn’t have one,” Lauren, Mark’s wife, tells you. She hands you the jersey, and you look at it. Were you supposed to put it on? “You can just put it on over your shirt and leave your jacket on a chair.”

You nod. You put on the jersey and look down at the number on your sleeve. You smiled. You liked the way it looked on you.

Watching the game with the other girls was interesting and exciting. You chatted with the other women and played with the children. It was exhilarating to be in the Saddledome during a game, especially the last of the season. You haven’t been to a game in Calgary despite living there. Every time the Tkachuks came to town, you always told them you couldn’t go to the game. It didn’t feel right, but now that you’ve been to a game, you wanted to keep coming to the games. The Flames ended up coming out on top to celebrate their final game, and the arena was loud and bursting with happiness. You followed behind as everyone walked to outside the locker rooms to wait for the team. You stood awkwardly, not sure what to do. You played with your jacket in your hand just as Matthew walked out. He spotted you instantly, and his heart lurched through his chest as he saw you in his jersey. His eyes widened at seeing his number on your arm, and if possible, he fell more in love with you.

“Hey,” he says as he walks over. You look up and give him a wide smile.

“Hi,” you tell him and pull your fake boyfriend into a large hug as you whisper in his ear, “you played amazing.”

Your words send shivers down Matthew’s spine, and he holds you tightly. “Thank you.”

You both pull away and notice some of Matthew’s teammates and significant others greeting each other with congratulatory kisses. Were you both supposed to kiss? “Should we kiss, Matthew?” you whisper.

“What?” he whispers back, not sure if he heard you properly.

“You heard me, should we kiss? Everyone else is.”

“Do you want me to kiss you?”

“Would it be awkward if we didn’t?”

“I’m going to kiss you, okay?” Matthew doesn’t wait for your response as he hungrily leans down and kisses you. Despite kissing you yesterday, Matthew was waiting earnestly for the day he’d get to kiss you again. It wasn’t as passionate as the night before, but somehow, it was even more intimate despite being in public. You both full away flushed with the kiss, and Matthew’s teammates holler around you both. “Oh, shut up.”

Matthew leads you to his car and holds your hand. “Did you want to come to celebrate with us?” he leans down to whisper in your ear.

“I thought that was part of this,” you tell him.

“Yeah, but not everyone is going out, so if you don’t want to, we can just head to my place.”

“We can go to your place, then.”

“Okay,” Matthew says to you and opens the car door for you. He closes the door and heads towards the driver’s side. When he gets in, he asks, “How did you get here if I’m driving you home?”

“Oh, I walked because I don’t work too far from here,” you explain, and Matthew whips his heat towards you. “What?”

“You walked? Do you not have a car?” he asks as if the notion were beyond him.

“Yeah, it was like ten minutes.”

“If you didn’t have a ride or something, I would have sent someone to pick you up.”

“I walk to work, Matthew.”

“You walk? No, from now on, I will be driving you to work and wherever you need to be.”

You giggle to yourself softly. “I have a car, but I just walk to work because it’s only five minutes.”

“No, I refuse to let you walk to work.”

“Matthew,” you say gently and place your hand on his thigh. “I’m fine, I promise, okay?”

Matthew looks at the soft look in your eyes and the anger he has dissipated. “Okay, but if you ever need a ride somewhere, please just let me know, and I’ll drive you, okay?”

“Okay, but I do have a car, you know,” you tell him, and Matthew starts the car and heads towards his apartment. Why was Matthew so concerned and angry about the fact that you don’t drive to work? You ponder the thought and are so deep in trying to figure it out that you don’t realize that you’ve reached Matthew’s apartment until he tells you so.

“You okay?” Matthew asks as you’re standing in the elevator.

“Yeah, I’m fine, why?”

“Not sure, you seem kind of spaced out.”

“Oh, no, I’m okay.”

“Promise?” Matthew asks.

“Promise,” you reply with a smile.

You and Matthew walk into his apartment, and your breath is taken away by the view of Matthew’s apartment. You take your shoes off and just stand there staring. You drop your purse and bag on the floor and walk over to the window in a trance.

“Yn, you good?” Matthew asks, confused about your actions.

“It’s just so pretty, Matthew,” you say and reach for your phone in your back pocket and take a photo. Matthew can’t help but smile at your actions. Sure, the view was pretty to him, but he saw it each day, so it wasn’t as special to him. Watching you take in the view, though, gave Matthew a new insight into how pretty the view truly was. Maybe, just maybe, Matthew was staring at you, looking beautiful with the dim lighting of his living room and wearing his jersey, instead of the view, but it didn’t matter. It was beautiful, and if he was talking about you? Then, so be it!

“I’m just going to get changed real quick, okay?” Matthew asks. He didn’t want to leave you standing there alone, but he knows he won’t be comfortable in his suit. “I can stay if you want.”

You giggle to yourself. “I can take care of myself, you know.”

“Yeah, I know, but —”

“Go,” you push Matthew in the direction of his room. “I’ll be fine.” Matthew looks behind him once more to you; you give him a pointed look, and Matthew walks to his room to change.

You settle yourself on the couch and sit there staring at the TV stand. On it are sitting picture frames with photos of Matthew’s family and friends. One photo, in particular, stands out to you. You get up and walk to the photo and smile at it. You pick it up and stare at it. It was a photo of Brady, Taryn, Matthew, your brother, and you. You don’t remember the photo being taken but it was around when you were six or seven. You were sitting at the table in Tkachuk's backyard before dinner. Matthew was sitting on your right, as he should, and with Taryn on your left.

“Find anything interesting?” Matthew asks as he walks out. He walks over to you and rests an arm around your shoulder.

“I’m surprised you have a photo of me sitting here,” you tell him and look at him.

“Why?” Matthew furrows his eyebrows in confusion.

“I just, I don’t know.”

Matthew walks over to the couch and sits. You place the photo back on the stand and join him. You sit next to him on your right, and Matthew, again, rests an arm around your shoulder. “I have photos of the important people in my life.”

Matthew turns on the TV and begins flipping through Netflix. He selects one of your favorite movies, and you’re surprised he knows it, but then again, Matthew seems to know more about you than you realized.

As the movie continues, you and Matthew move closer and closer together to the point where you’re cuddled into him and your head moves in sync with Matthew’s breathing. The warmth that Matthew’s body exudes and the pattern of his breaths put you to sleep. When Matthew notices you’ve fallen asleep, he doesn’t want to wake you, so he tightens his hold on you and grabs the blanket that was sitting over the couch (he silently thanks his mom for making him put it there), and he places it on you. He softly kisses your forehead with a soft, ”goodnight, Yn.”

. . .

The next morning, after you’ve woken up, eaten breakfast that Matthew made for you, and left for the day, Matthew was on his way to the Saddledome for the exit interviews of the season. It didn’t end the way the team wanted, but they fought tooth and nail until the last game, and they should be proud of that.

As Matthew walks into the locker room, he has a soft smile on his face of pure bliss.

“So, what did you and Yn do last night?” Noah teases when he sees his teammate. “You’re never one to turn down a night out.”

“I didn’t go out because Yn didn’t want to. I think she was overwhelmed with meeting everyone, and I just wanted her to be comfortable.”

“Wow, Matthew, look at you maturing for the better,” Mark teases. He was waiting for the day that Matthew would meet a girl and act this way for her.

“Whatever,” Matthew rolls his eyes.

“Matthew’s in looooove,” someone teases and everyone else laughs in response. Matthew, again, just rolls his eyes in response. He had no other response.

Matthew only wishes that the person he was in love with was him, too.

. . .

You’re standing outside Matthew’s apartment door with your dress in your hand with a bag of the things you needed to get ready over your shoulder. You took a deep breath. You weren’t sure why you were so nervous, but you were. You were about to ring the doorbell, but Matthew opened the door first.

“How did you know I was here?” you ask as you walk into his apartment.

“I mean, I had to buzz you into the building, so I was waiting for you,” Matthew says as if it were obvious.

“Oh.”

“You can shower first. I probably take less time than you to get ready, so you can shower first.”

You nod. “Okay, can I hang up my dress in your closet?”

“Yeah, of course. What color is it? I probably should have asked before, so that we could match.”

You smile. “It’s a lavender color. I doubt you own anything lavender.”

“My mom bought me a lavender dress shirt for Christmas, so, yes, I do own something lavender.”

You giggle to yourself softly and head into his bedroom to hand up your dress. You walk into his washroom and set your things there. “Thank you, Matthew.”

“No need to thank me,” he tells you. “I left you towels and stuff. Just let me know when I can shower, okay?”

You nod. You’re not sure why you’re suddenly at a loss for words. What was it with Matthew?

After you showered, Matthew told you that, if you were comfortable, you could use the washroom as he showered. You told him it was fine and began styling your hair just as Matthew was showering. You were halfway done when you heard Matthew turn off the water. You watch him from the corner of your eye as he grabs the towel from behind the shower curtain. You try to calm your breathing as you watch Matthew step out of the shower with the towel wrapped low on his hips and his broad shoulders and chest lined with water droplets. He stands next to you and begins to moisturize his face. You feel your face warm as you stand next to him.

Matthew walks out of the washroom, but he stops at the door and turns to you. “I’ll get ready in my bedroom, and you can get ready here. Just let me know when you’re ready, and I’ll let you change in the bedroom.”

“Thanks, Matthew.”

“Sure,” he says and takes one step out of the washroom before stopping again. “Hey, yn?”

“Yes?” you turn to him.

“Your hair looks really pretty.”

“I haven’t finished, yet,” you point out.

“Fine, but I know for a fact that you’re going to look so incredibly beautiful.”

. . .

You put on your shoes and look at yourself once more in the mirror. You observe the way you look and take a deep breath. You take your steps out of the bedroom, and Matthew stands when he hears the clack of your heels. Matthew takes a deep breath, getting ready to see how beautiful you will undoubtedly look.

“Hey,” you say and stand in front of Matthew. You smile, and your breath stops when you see Matthew. He’s wearing a lavender shirt that matches your dress with a black tie, jacket, and pants. His clothes fit him perfectly, and it displays his body just the way clothes should.

“Hey,” he replies, and his breath stops, too. You were beautiful. The lavender gown hung on your body perfectly, and it accentuated each and every curve of your body perfectly. The color brought out your eyes, and they shone in the light. The dim light of Matthew’s apartment reflected off the design and details of your dress that Matthew knew he was going to be speechless when the light of the ballroom truly lit you up. “You’re beautiful, Yn. Gorgeous, yn!”

“Thank you,” you say bashfully and walk over to your fake boyfriend. You place your hands on his chest and straighten his tie. “You look amazing, too, Matthew.”

Matthew’s breath is shallow as you run your hands on his chest. His heart is beating through his chest, and he knows that he’s going to have to use all his energy and brainpower not to stare at you the entire night. You stop and rest your hands on his chest. “Ready to go?” you ask.

Matthew audibly swallows at your touch. “Yeah,” he says in a low voice. He takes your hand and leads you towards the door. “Did you want to put your stuff in your car and drive home, or do you want to just stay the night and drive home in the morning?”

“Can I stay the night?”

“Yeah, yeah, of course,” Matthew won’t admit it, but he wanted you to stay the night.

As Matthew drives to the location of the Gala, he continues taking peeks at you. He isn’t sure what he’s done to get someone as beautiful as you as his date, but he’s thanking any and every higher being for blessing him with you.

Throughout the entire night, Matthew has to force himself to leave you for moments every now and then to do his job. It was difficult. He wanted to be right by your side and show the world how lucky he got to be right next to you. You were the star, and Matthew was one of your many admirers. When Matthew wasn’t talking to donors and was right next to you, he found it difficult to speak. When you’d ask a question or make a comment, Matthew would take a few seconds to reply because of you. Your laughter, your smile, and your perfume were intoxicating, and Matthew wasn’t sure how he would make it through the rest of the night.

Annica wanted to grab another drink from the bar, so you went with her. Matthew, reluctantly, removed his hand from the small of your back and watched you lovingly as you went off with Annica. When he lost sight of you, Matthew finally turned his attention back to the group at the table.

“Yeah, you’re definitely not whipped for her and in love with her,” Elias says.

“Matthew not in love, who?” Noah jokes.

“Oh, shut up,” Matthew says. It didn’t matter if he was in love with you because you weren’t in love with him.

“Look, the minute Yn comes back, Matthew is going to put a hand on her, either on her shoulder or on her back, smile down at her, and pull her close to him. I guarantee it,” Jacob says. He was watching the two of you interact the entire night, and he knows that this will happen as it happened every time you and Matthew got separated.

“I see your point, and I raise you with this: he’s going to lean down and kiss Yn on the forehead,” Johnny adds.

“I see both your points, and I raise you with this: Matthew’s going to look at Yn, and she’s going to look at him, and they will both smile widely at each other,” Elias points out.

“Are you guys betting again?” Mark asks as he settles himself at the table as he’s making his rounds.

“Kind of. We’re trying to figure out how Yn and Matthew are going to act when she returns,” Noah explains.

“Oh, drop the subject,” Matthew says, annoyed.

“I’m not sure what has been said, but I guess that Matthew will be so enthralled by his date that everything in the world will fade away,” Mark says, “because that’s what a person in love does.”

“Look, I’m not in love with Yn, okay? Can we just drop the subject before Yn and Annica return?” Matthew replies exasperatedly.

Everyone agrees, but they all know that they will be monitoring your and Matthew’s actions when you return. Just a few moments later, you and Annica are returning to the table with a refill of drinks. You settle in next to Matthew and place a glass of wine down for you and a glass of beer for him.

“You were empty, so I got you a refill,” you tell him.

“Thank you,” he says to you and places a hand on the small of your back where it was before you left. You lean in further to him, and Matthew smiles down at you as you engage in conversation with Mark. Matthew places a soft kiss on your forehead, and you look up and smile at Matthew who smiles back at you. Elias mentions Matthew’s name, but Matthew is too soaked up in your presence to notice. The group is shocked. Every single one of them guessed correctly what Matthew would do when you returned.

“Well, if you’ll excuse me,” Mark begins, “I’m going to go ask the Mrs. for a dance.”

Elias and Annica leave, too, and head to the dance floor. You stand there awkwardly wondering if you and Matthew should dance. Matthew leans his head towards yours and whispers, “Do you want to dance, Yn?”

You look at Matthew and nod with a smile. Matthew takes your hand and leads you to the dance floor. He takes one hand in his and the other rests on the bare skin of your upper back. You place your other hand not in Matthew’s on his shoulder and move close to him. You both sway to the music that’s playing. As you both continue to dance, Matthew’s hand draws soft patterns on your skin sending electric shocks through your body. As the song comes to an end, the bubble you and Matthew found yourself in slowly pops, and you return to reality. It didn’t matter how special dancing with each other was, you were both not truly dating. You were living a lie, and you knew it would hurt when, one day, the ruse was over. You only hoped that you could salvage your feelings and not hurt your heart too much. You weren’t sure, though, what you were trying to save your heart from.

. . .

“Ready to head home?” Matthew whispers into your ear as you’re talking with some of the WAGs. You nod and say goodbye to the ladies. Matthew wraps his suit jacket around your shoulders as he notices you’re cold and takes your hand in his. “Thank you for being my date.”

You smile. “Thank you for taking me. I had a lot of fun.”

“I had a lot of fun with the beautiful person as my date.”

“Oh, beautiful person? Who may they be?” you tease.

“They’re you, of course. The most beautiful of people.”

“You flatter me, Matthew.”

“You deserve all the compliments in the world, Yn,” Matthew squeezes your hand and opens the car door for you. You smile in gratitude as he closes the door and heads to the driver's side. You smile in happiness at the evening you had. Matthew intertwines his hand with yours as he drives. With the late hour and the comfort of Matthew’s hand, you feel your eyes drift closed. You didn’t mean to fall asleep, but you did.

“Yn? You have to wake up; we’re back at my apartment, now,” Matthew says softly as he strokes your face softly to wake you.

You slowly open your eyes, and your lips quirk up at the sound of Matthew’s soft voice. You nod and move to get out of the car.

“No, no, I’ll get the door for you,” Matthew interrupts. You’re too tired to argue, so you just let Matthew rush out of the car to open the door for you. Matthew leads you back to his apartment and ushers you into his bedroom. “You can sleep here, and I’ll take the guest room.”

“No, Matthew, I’ll take the guest room,” you interject.

“No, Yn. You did me the biggest favor by coming as my date tonight, so you can take my bed.”

“Matthew —” you were going to point out that you were taking him to Shelly’s wedding, but he wasn’t going to change his mind.

“Yn, just take the bed, okay? You can grab a shirt and sweatpants to wear to bed.”

You nod, and Matthew walks out of the room with clothes for himself. He closes the door quietly behind him as he heads to the guest room. His one wish was that he was sleeping in that bed with you instead of you there alone.

. . .

“Yn, come on, we have to go,” Matthew says, standing in your kitchen and waiting for you to be ready to leave.

“Just give me a moment. We’ve got quite a bit of time, still.”

“You know, you’re the one who told me I had to be here at exactly this time, Yn, so you should be ready to go.”

You walk out of your bedroom lugging your suitcase and purse. Matthew rushes over to you and takes your suitcase out of your hand. In the process, Matthew’s hand brushes over yours, and you hear your heartbeat in your ears as the heat rushes to your face. “Let me just make sure that all the windows are closed and that I unplugged everything.”

When you return and are completely ready to go, you lock the door to your apartment and head to Matthew’s car. He opens the trunk to place your suitcase in, and as usual, Matthew opens the car door for you.

“You know, you don’t have to always open the car door for me, right?” you tell him.

“Just doing what any boyfriend would,” Matthew points out. “Fake or not.”

“Right,” you say. It’s been a while since you or he pointed out the fakeness of your relationship, and you almost forgot. Almost. Matthew turns to you and opens his mouth to say something, but he isn’t sure how to put his thoughts into words. How is he supposed to ask if you’re upset that he pointed out that you were both fake dating despite that being the obvious title between you two? You reach to turn on some music to try to ease the awkwardness in the car. You put on Taylor Swift, and Matthew groans in response.

“You know the way Taryn and I were growing up; I can’t believe you’re shocked.”

“I thought you’d show me some mercy, you know as your boyfriend?”

“I show zero mercy.”

. . .

Going through checking in and security was a breeze. You got on the plane fine just, but the nerves immediately hit as the pilot announced that the doors were closing. Your leg begins to bounce up and down, and you begin to fiddle with your fingers. Matthew glances down at you and notices your nerves.

“You’ve been on a plane before, right?” he whispers.

You nod. “Just scary sometimes.”

He nods and places his hand on your thigh causing it to stop bouncing. You feel all your nerves suddenly dissipate. “I’m here, okay? Don’t worry.”

“Okay,” you whisper back. Matthew lifts the armrest between you both and scoots closer to you. He pulls you into his side, so you’re leaning against him. You rest your head on his shoulder, and Matthew takes your hand in his.

“It’s not a long flight. You’ll be okay.”

. . .

“Hey, you have to wake up,” Matthew whispers as he strokes your head softly. Your eyes flutter open. You didn’t realize you fell asleep on Matthew during the flight. “Sleep well?”

“Yeah,” you yawn.

Matthew smiles softly at you. “You slept through the flight, so that’s good.”

“Oh, we landed?”

He chuckles. “Yeah, let’s get off this plane, what do you say?”

You grab your purse from under the seat in front of you, and Matthew grabs his carry-on from the overhead bin. He packed significantly more than you because he wasn’t flying home with you. Matthew would be staying in St. Louis until he flies back to Calgary for training camp.

Matthew extends his hand for you, and you take it. He walks into the aisle first with one hand holding his bag and the other behind him holding your hand. You both exit the plane and head towards customs and baggage claims.

You take a deep breath once you’re in line for customs. You knew this day would come, but you didn’t realize the nerves that would come with it. Would you be able to survive this week with Matthew?

. . .

“You go in first and get us settled; I’ll pay for the taxi,” you tell Matthew when your taxi pulls up to the hotel.

“Nope, you go in; I pay,” Matthew counters.

“Matthew —”

“I am your boyfriend, no? Just let me do this.”

“Okay,” you relent softly and head into the hotel with your luggage in tow. You head to the check-in desk. There isn’t a line, and you get your room information and key quickly. You meet Matthew at where he’s standing and lead him towards the elevator door. You both wait for the elevator in silence and walk inside in the same silence. You lead him towards your eighth-floor room and walk inside. “I made sure to request two beds, so we don’t have to share.”

“Smart,” Matthew says. You unlock the door and walk inside. You groan when you see the layout of the room and what it contains — one bed.

“Oh,” you mumble. “Only one bed.”

“What? Oh,” Matthew says as he stands next to you.

“Let me call down and see if they have another room for us.”

Matthew nods. He was frozen solid at the thought of sleeping next to you. He watches as you walk over to the phone and call down to the front desk. You tell them your issue, and Matthew watches as you furrow your eyebrows in frustration. You end the call with a “thank you, it’s no problem” and look to Matthew.

“What’s the verdict?” Matthew asks.

“They have three wedding parties staying here and no extra room with two beds for us.”

“I can sleep on the floor,” Matthew suggests.

You shake your head. “We’re both adults. I’m sure we can sleep in the same bed without any issues arising.”

“Yeah, you’re right,” Matthew breathes out. His throat is dry and the words are barely forming on his tongue. You nod towards Matthew and begin unpacking. You hang up your dresses in the closet and line your shoes against the wall.

“Make sure you hang up your suit, so it doesn’t get wrinkly,” you remind Matthew as you head to the washroom to unpack your toiletries. Matthew nods and does what you say. He isn’t sure why he’s suddenly so nervous and clammy, but he figures it’s because you are both going to be sleeping in the same bed. You both move in sync with each other as you settle into the hotel room. Once Matthew has finished, he settles on the couch and turns the TV on. You awkwardly get on the couch, and Matthew chuckles at you.

It would be a restful night, right?

. . .

After meeting with the rest of the bridal party and making sure everything was perfect for the rehearsal the next day and the wedding the day after, you head into your hotel room and see Matthew sitting on the bed.

“Hey,” you say as you get ready to shower.

“How were your preparations?” he asks.

“Not bad. I’m tired, but it’s all worth it if Shelly gets the wedding of her dreams.”

Matthew nods.

“I’m going to take a shower and then go to bed; if that’s okay?”

“That’s perfectly fine,” Matthew replies as you head to the washroom to shower. While in the shower, you did everything in your power to prolong your time there because you knew that when you finished, you’d be going to sleep. You’d be going to be sleeping in the same bed as Matthew.

Once you’ve showered and gotten ready for the night, you walk out of the washroom and see Matthew standing next to the bed.

“I pulled out the blankets and stuff when I heard the tap turn off,” Matthew bashfully tells you when you notice the bed. “I figured you’re tired and stuff, so I was trying to help.”

You smile softly at the man. “Thank you, Matthew.”

He nods at your words. “What do we do now? Should we call down for more pillows and make, like, a pillow wall?”

“Um, I don’t think we have to do that. It’s big enough where we probably won’t get in each other’s way.”

“Yeah, probably,” Matthew lies. He isn’t sure if now is the right time to mention he’s an active sleeper and moves around a lot. “You can get in first.”

“Okay,” you say and move towards the bed. You get under the covers and sigh at the comfort of the bed. You lay on your back, a position that isn’t the most comfortable for you. When you’re done, Matthew gets under the covers, and he, too, lays on his back. You don’t think it’s the most comfortable for him, either. You lean over to turn the lights off, so the entire room is cascaded in darkness. “Good night, Matthew.”

“Night, Yn.”

You both lay there in awkward silence and stare up at the ceiling. What were you supposed to do? Were you supposed to talk to each other until the other fell asleep? Was it okay to face each other as you slept? What happened if you woke up in a compromising position? Would your friendship (was this a friendship?) be awkward? What would the morning be like? How awkward would it be? Should you be thinking about the fact that Matthew wasn’t wearing a shirt next to you? No, you shouldn’t be, but here you are thinking about Matthew’s bare chest.

You took a deep breath and hoped for sleep to easily overcome you.

Thankfully, it did. You fell asleep, and when your alarm went off, you were surprised you slept through the night. It was one of the best nights of sleep of your life. The pillows and blankets exuded this comfort and warmth that cocooned you and made it easy to fall asleep. When you opened your eyes, you were shocked by the sight in front of you. You blinked your eyes to make sure you weren’t still dreaming. Nope, you definitely weren’t dreaming.

Matthew Tkachuk, your fake boyfriend and boy who has hated you since you were ten, was cuddling you into his chest. Not only that, his arms were wound tightly around your waist with your forehead comfortably on his chest. Both of your legs were intertwined with each other, and your arms were grasping his waist. No wonder you slept so well.

“Oh, good morning,” Matthew says quietly. You look up at him and notice that it looks like he’s been up for a little bit.

“How long have you been awake?” you ask.

“Wow, no good morning? I’m hurt,” Matthew pouts.

“Good morning, Matthew; how long have you been awake?”

“About half an hour?”

“And you didn’t wake me knowing we were sleeping like this?” you say annoyed and slowly pull away. Once you’re fully out of his grasp, you wish you remained in his grasp. Matthew’s body exuded this comfort and warmth that made you happy and comfortable. You wished you could return to Matthew’s hold and embrace without it seeming weird.

“You were very comfortable, it looked like, and you seemed to be sleeping peacefully, and I figured you’d be more upset if I woke you, so I didn’t. Are you upset that I didn’t wake you?”

You ponder over his last question for a moment. No, you weren’t upset that he woke you. “No, it’s okay. I just slightly overreacted.”

“No need to apologize. You reacted just fine.”

You nod. “I have to get ready for wedding stuff, but we can go down to get breakfast together.”

“Yes, whatever you say,” Matthew replies and watches you get out of bed and towards your suitcase and washroom. Matthew wouldn’t admit it to anyone, but he was up for hours. He got up hours before because he was warm and needed to turn the AC up higher, but when he realized the situation you were both in, Matthew refused to get up. When else would Matthew be able to hold the person he’s been in love with his entire life who doesn’t love him back?

. . .

“You have the rehearsal tonight, right?” Matthew asks from outside the washroom as you’re doing your makeup. He walks over to the dresser and begins looking at the jewelry you’ve laid across it.

“Yeah, sorry that I can’t bring you. It’s a small thing with just Shelly’s family and bridal party. That means, though, that our big fake dating debut will be tomorrow at the reception,” you say from the washroom. “What are you going to do?”

“I’m having dinner with my parents at a restaurant around the corner. I know you said that you have a ride to and from where you have to be, but if you need a ride, just call me, okay?”

You smile to yourself from the washroom where Matthew can’t see you. There was something about his concern that made you smile like crazy. “Okay, Matthew. Thank you.”

“No need to thank me,” he begins. “I am your boyfriend after all.” He mutters under his breath the word “fake” with a scowl. He hated being just your fake boyfriend.

You begin to pack your things back into your toiletries bag so as not to leave a mess, and you walk out of the washroom. “How do I look?” you ask when you’re in full view of Matthew. He immediately looks up from where he was staring at your necklace, and his jaw drops.

“Wow, you — I, wow! You’re gorgeous, Yn,” Matthew says with wonder and awe in his eyes. You take your hands and place them on the hem of your skirt and look down. Matthew walks over to you and takes one of your hands and twirls you. You giggle in response, and Matthew catches you with his hands on your waist. “You’re beautiful, Yn.”

“Thank you,” you whisper. Matthew places a soft kiss on your forehead and takes a step back to admire you.

“I get to be your date tomorrow? Aren’t I the luckiest guy on the planet?”

You giggle again and make your way to the dresser to put on the necklace sitting there. It’s a matching necklace you and Shelly both bought at the age of 18. “Can you help me put it on?”

Matthew’s Adam’s apple bobs in his throat as he soaks you in and your request. He nods and takes the necklace gently from you. You turn around, so your back is to him, and Matthew places the necklace around your neck. He fiddles with the clasp and whispers a soft “there you go” when he’s finished. You turn around and look into his eyes.

“Thank you, Matthew,” you say nervously but hide it with a smile. You’re not sure why you’re nervous, but you suddenly are. Maybe it was the intimacy of the act Matthew just performed for you. “Have fun with your family tonight.”

“Have fun at the rehearsal! Text me when you’re on your way back, okay?”

“Okay,” you reply as you slip on your shoes and make your way towards the door. “Night, Matthew.”

You walk out the door before Matthew could respond. “Night,” he says even though it’s pointless. In his head, Matthew is replaying the vision of you walking out in your blush pink dress and how beautiful you looked. Matthew knows that whoever gets to be the one to call you their girlfriend will be the luckiest person in the world. He only wishes he were the one.

. . .

Matthew walks into the restaurant his family picked, still reeling from how beautiful you looked. It was at that moment when Matthew saw you when he realized he was truly gone. Matthew has dug himself into a hole that he knows he’s never going to get out of. Now that Matthew has experienced you as a date, in his arms in his apartment, at one of his games, kissing you, and sleeping next to you, Matthew knows that no one else will compare to you. He knows that when this ruse is over, he will be heartbroken beyond repair. Is he choosing to do something about it? Nope, not at all because to him, if he can have even a little bit of you, even if it’s under the guise of being fake, then he’ll take it.

He sits at the table his parents and siblings were already at and greets them. It’s not even two seconds after he sits before they all corner him about dating you.

“So, you and Yn, huh?” Brady smirks.

“Don’t start, please,” Matthew warns.

“I’ll start, then,” Taryn prompts. “I can’t believe you finally got Yn to date you after you’ve harbored a crush on her for all these years and hated her.”

“Can we not?” Matthew asks.

“Nope, not happening, we are going to question you about every single detail. Who knows, maybe you two will be the next ones to get married.”

“Okay, Taryn, take a step back,” Keith chuckles.

“I think you should take a step forward,” Brady prompts. “Considering how head over heels Matthew has been, Taryn’s right.”

Matthew just rolls his eyes and sighs. “Can we just order and have a normal meal, please?”

“This conversation isn’t over yet,” Taryn warns, and Matthew just rolls his eyes.

After deciding what to eat and ordering, Taryn was true to her word and began to question Matthew about his dating life. “How did it start? What was your first date like? Did Yn slap you when you first asked her out? I need details, Matthew!”

“Did you ever consider that Yn and I want privacy about our relationship?” Matthew snaps.

“Right, but this is the weirdest pairing ever, so I feel like I should get something out of you,” Taryn defends herself.

“There isn’t much to say. A few months back, Yn called me saying she needed a familiar face because she was homesick, so we met up. We realized that we liked each other and here we are.”

Chantal gives her son a curious look. That was the exact statement and explanation that you gave her when she called you a few weeks after she found out about you and Matthew. Either that was the reality of the situation or you both practiced this many times. Chantal thinks it’s probably the latter because she knows her son. She knows that if you and Matthew were for real, then he’d be telling everyone how much he liked you.

“That’s it? I thought there’d be more! Something more romantic or something,” Taryn pouts, and Matthew just shrugs. He wishes he could have made a more romantic story for how you both started dating because that’s what you deserve, but you wouldn’t have any of it.

“I agree with Taryn,” Brady adds. “Yn, as we know, is a hopeless romantic. I’m surprised you haven’t stepped up your game to match Yn’s romantic side.”

“Look, maybe we do have a romantic relationship, but we just want to keep it private,” Matthew growls.

“Alright, let’s just let the topic go,” Chantal interjects and inserts an out for Matthew. “Will you be sitting with us tomorrow?”

“During the ceremony, probably because Yn is part of the procession and all that. I’m not sure during the reception, though, because I think it’s open seating.”

“Okay, that’s understandable,” Chantal says just as their meals arrive. Matthew lets out a sigh of relief. He was able to keep the story about your ruse straight and evade any questions that could poke holes into the story. He could only wish that what was happening between you two was real.

. . .

Just as Matthew was getting interrogated by his family, your brother and Shelly were on their way to interrogate you. It was after the rehearsal, and everyone in attendance was at the restaurant catching up. Your brother walks over to you and whispers that Shelly wants to talk to you. Being the maid of honor, you figured that she needed help with last-minute wedding preparations. You weren’t expecting an ambush.

Your brother leads you to where Shelly’s sitting, and you expect him to leave. However, when he sits right next to you with Shelly across from you, you know that you’re getting interrogated.

“Don’t you have to go be with your pregnant wife?” you ask your brother pointedly hoping to get out of the conversation.

“No, she wants this information as much as I do,” he retorts.

“You and Tkachuk?” Shelly shrieks. Some of the other guests turn to the commotion but turn away when they see it’s only the bride getting excited about something. “I always knew he had the hots for you, but I wasn’t sure if he’d ever do anything about it. Wow, I’m impressed it didn’t take more time for it to happen.”

“What are you talking about?” Matthew never had the hots for you. This situation was purely platonic and aiding each other's social calendars.

“Oh, come on,” Shelly rolls her eyes. “You have to have known that Matthew was crazy in love with you in high school.”

“And that explains his treatment of me?”

“It’s what insecure guys do when they crush on someone who is way out of their league,” your brother explains. “For what it’s worth, you are way out of Matthew’s league, and the only reason that I haven’t confronted him is that I know him. But still, Matthew? Why him?”

“How did it start? Is he a good kisser? Does he make you smile like crazy? Is he the super romantic boyfriend that you’ve always wanted? Is he good in bed?” Shelby begins but is stopped by your brother making a disgusted look. He definitely didn’t want to think about you and Matthew sleeping together. “Sorry, I forgot you were here.”

“It’s alright,” he grumbles, and Shelly throws you a wink knowing that she’d ask you about this later.

“The other questions are still valid, though.”

“It started because I was homesick. I realized that I missed home and needed a familiar face, so I called Matthew. From there, we realized that there was something there between us,” you explain hoping that your brother and Shelly would accept the story.

“More like you finally realized it,” Shelly corrects. You were about to contradict her words, but wouldn’t that break the facade you and Matthew have built? “What about the rest of the stuff?”

You shrug.

“That’s it? There’s nothing else you can say about it?”

“I like keeping my relationship private,” you say softly hoping it came across as confident despite the guilt you felt lying to your brother and best friend.

“Sure, and did this happen before you and I talked about bringing a date to the wedding?” Shelly questions further. She knows that if you liked someone and were crazy about them, then you’d be talking about this person constantly. She isn’t buying the story.

“We started talking before, but we made our relationship official shortly after your call,” you lie, again. You make a mental note to tell Matthew this so that when Shelly did interrogate him, he’d have that information.

“But you insisted you didn’t have anyone to bring as a date,” Shelly points out.

“You also called me if any of my friends would want to bring you,” your brother points out smugly. You glare at him and kick him under the table.

“I wasn’t sure if bringing Matthew would be like cheating because I knew he was invited to the wedding,” you quickly retorted. Would that be enough to have them lay off you?

“Sure, sure,” Shelly begins. “Look, if your relationship is of convenience, you know, for pleasure, you can say that.”

What? “What?” you and your brother speak at the same time. She wasn’t interrogating you because she thought you and Matthew were faking. She thought you and Matthew had a friends-with-benefits relationship! Somehow, that calms your nerves and helps you relax.

“Oh, so it’s a real relationship,” Shelly says with a grin. “I was wrong?”

“Yes, it’s a real relationship,” you laugh.

“I mean, if it were a pleasure-seeking based relationship, then I’d also be okay with that because you do need to make yourself happy,” Shelly winks.

“Okay, I’m done here,” your brother immediately gets up and walks over to his wife. You and Shelly both giggle.

“Are you happy?” she asks.

You nod. “Yeah, I’m happy.”

“That’s good. I have to get back to bride duties. I know that I was shocked when you told me you were dating Tkachuk earlier and didn’t react the way you wanted me to, but I only did it because I don’t want you to get hurt. He treated you like crap when you were in high school, and I don’t want him to go back to that version of himself. You seem happy, though, so ignore me.”

Shelly kisses your forehead and finds her fiance. You knew you weren’t going to get hurt because what you were both doing was merely for show. You both weren’t actually dating, so there were no feelings to be hurt, but one thing stuck out to you. Matthew liked you in high school? You weren’t sure why that unsettled you so much, but it did. Why would he have treated you like crap if he liked you? Would you and Matthew hurt each other? What happens when you both end this ruse? You know you’ll miss the way Matthew could always put a smile on your face and bring out giggle after giggle from you. You’d miss the way his smile or hand in yours would make your heart burst and make you warm inside and out. Were you on the path to getting hurt?

. . .

As Keith and Brady are arguing about the bill, Matthew and Chantal step outside to wait for them, and Taryn is in the washroom.

“So, you and Yn?” Chantal begins.

“Mom,” Matthew groans.

“I find it funny that the story that you told tonight to us is exactly what Yn told me a few weeks ago.”

“It’s what happened, so it makes sense that Yn told you the same thing,” Matthew lies.

“Yeah, but it was the exact same story, Matthew.”

Matthew looks at his mother, and he knows that she’s read through fabrication. “We both needed dates for things, so we thought we’d pretend to date to make it easier on both of us,” Matthew mumbles.

Chantal looks at her son and sees the forlorn expression on his face. “But you like her.”

“I’m pretty sure I’m in love with her, mom,” Matthew says sadly as if he finally realized the hopelessness of the situation.

“Why don’t you just tell her?”

“Because, mom, it’s like Taryn was saying earlier and why it shocks you so much. I treated Yn like crap when we were growing up, and I’m pretty sure she hates me.”

“But you love her.”

“I never hated her; I just didn’t know what to do with my feelings. I’m screwed, aren’t I?”

“I don’t know,” Chantal admits. Her heart breaks as she watches her son run his hands through his hair sadly as he admits to feelings. “I haven’t seen you both around each other, but who knows, maybe Yn does feel the same way.”

“No, I know for a fact she doesn’t. It’s okay, at least I have this,” Matthew says. Keith and Brady walk out of the restaurant at that moment with Taryn close on their heels. Keith slaps Matthew’s back and asks what Matthew was talking about. Matthew shrugs it off with a curt “nothing.” Matthew didn’t want the rest of his family to know about the reality of his dating life. He also knows that you’d rather not let that information come out.

“On Sunday, you and Yn should come over for dinner,” Chantal suggests. “Like tradition.”

“I’ll ask Yn,” Matthew answers.

“It’s not a request, Matthew,” Chantal says and walks with her husband. Well, then you and Matthew are going to dinner at the Tkachuk’s on Sunday.

. . .

The next morning after the rehearsal, you had to force yourself to pull yourself out of Matthew’s embrace. You’ve both woken up in the same entanglement as the morning before, but this time, you liked it. You enjoyed the warmth and comfort his hold produced. You groan as you get out of bed and walk to the washroom in the cold away from Matthew. You had to be up early to get things ready for the makeup artist, hairdresser, and photographer. You briefly washed your face and brushed your teeth before throwing on a pair of leggings and your “I Do Crew” t-shirt that was made for you. You grab your dress, shoes, and jewelry before heading over closer to the bed to grab your phone and purse. You place everything down and kiss Matthew on the forehead. You smiled at how peaceful and cute he looked as he was still sleeping.

If only it were real.

. . .

When Matthew’s alarm went off a few hours later, he moved closer to your pillow hoping to hold you for a little bit longer. When his head hits your cold pillow, Matthew’s chipper mood deflates when he realizes you’re not gone. He knows that you had to leave early for wedding preparations, but it still hurts knowing that you weren’t there to wake up next to him. In the past few days, Matthew has gotten used to waking up next to you. He isn’t sure what he’s going to do when you both return to your normal lives and he can no longer wake up next to you.

. . .

“Well, you look nice, Matthew,” Chantal says as Matthew sits in the row next to his family. Matthew straightens his tie. His leg is bouncing up and down in nervousness. Chantal observes her son from the corner of her eye and smiles at his actions.

“Have you seen Yn yet today?” Chantal leans over and asks. Matthew shakes his head no; he was nervous to see you. Matthew got a glimpse of your bridesmaid’s dress, and he knows you’re going to be just as beautiful, if not more, than the night of the rehearsal.

Matthew and his family continue to chat quietly, and everyone in the crowd abruptly ends their conversations as Shelly’s groom heads to the front of the aisle. In a matter of seconds, the orchestra begins to play the “Wedding March”, and everyone turns their heads to the aisle awaiting the procession. The groomsmen process down the aisle and take their places. Following the groomsmen are the bridesmaids. As each woman processes down the aisle and takes their places, Matthew is confused when he doesn’t see you among them. Matthew assumes, though, that because you’re the maid of honor, you have something special to do.

Matthew’s suspicions are confirmed when you walk down the aisle in your blush, floor-length, off-the-shoulder dress with your right hand holding the hand of the flower girl and your left hand holding a bouquet. As you walk down the aisle, Matthew is entranced by you. He stops breathing and blinking as he watches you. He watches as you lead the flower girl to her place and stand behind her. When everyone’s attention is turned to Shelly and her father walking down the aisle, Matthew’s attention is focused on you. He knew you were beautiful, but you were beautiful. There isn’t any difference between the two words, Matthew knows, but the latter word somehow means more. Matthew keeps telling himself it’s the dress, but he knows it’s not just the dress. It’s the person wearing the dress. It’s the way your face glowed from happiness at the new couple and the makeup you had on. It was the way your hair flowed impeccably in the breeze. It’s the way you looked amazing in that dress that had Matthew frozen. You were the most beautiful person Matthew has ever seen, and he didn’t want to look away.

When you catch Matthew’s eye, he swears he died and came back to life. You smile softly at him, but he doesn’t do anything. He just stands there staring at you as the officiant continues to talk. Chantal notices you trying to stifle a giggle and turns to her son to see if he had anything to do with it. When she sees Matthew just staring at you, she elbows him.

“Smile at her,” Chantal directs. That, it seemed, was what finally took Matthew out of his trance. He blinks and takes a deep breath right before sending you his signature smile. You shake your head playfully when you notice that Chantal had to remind him to smile and pay attention. You turn your attention back to the ceremony happening right in front of you as the officiant directs everyone to sit. You also try to ignore the hole it feels like Matthew (and the rest of the Tkachuks) were burning into the back of your head.

Because you were the maid of honor, you were one of the official witnesses and had to stand behind the bride. Through it all, Matthew was watching you. He was captivated by you, enamored by you. You met his eye a few times and had to force yourself not to laugh as a blush overcame his face and he turned away. Taryn, thinking that the next wedding she’d be attending was between you and Matthew, was watching the interactions between you two. The first time she watched you looked constipated as you tried to hide a giggle, she knew Matthew was the reason. After the second time, Taryn made sure to keep an eye on Matthew, too, so he could watch his reaction. Normally, in relationships, Matthew was confident, cocky, and full of himself. He was always the one to make the person he was dating speechless, shy, and look away bashfully. This time, though, you were the one in control, overtaking Matthew’s usual position. This time, Matthew was the one who was smiling bashfully and looking away whenever you’d meet his eye.

Taryn noticed that you stopped turning your attention to Matthew when the vows began to focus on the bride and groom. That doesn’t mean, though, that Matthew was paying attention to the happy couple. He was still watching you.

“Hey, Matthew,” Taryn leans over her mother and whispers.

That seems to take Matthew out of his trance as he rolls his eyes at his sister's words. “What?”

“Stop staring at your girlfriend. You’re trying to get her to marry you, not run away from you.”

“Taryn,” Chantal warns. Matthew doesn’t say anything except to stare ahead. This time, though, he doesn’t place his eyes on you. No, he places his eyes on the couple hoping to get his family off his case. He didn’t want to face the reality of the situation that Matthew wasn’t trying to get you to marry him despite him knowing you were the one. He hoped to ignore the true reason why Matthew was here as your date and not as a family friend. During the rest of the ceremony, Matthew doesn’t look at you once. He opts to look at the couple, the officiant, or the beauty of the outdoor venue. He hopes that by not looking at you, Matthew can escape the reality that he’s in love with you and you, it seems, are not.

When the ceremony ends and the couple walks down the aisle, you and the rest of the wedding party are getting ready to take photos during the Cocktail Hour. You try to make your way to find Matthew and see him because you missed him, but every time it seemed you had a chance, he was busy or was avoiding you.

Eventually, the Cocktail Hour was over and everyone was heading into the location of the reception. After you’ve made your rounds, you look around to see where Matthew was or your brother. You weren’t sure who you were going to sit with, but you were hoping to sit next to Matthew, though. You weren’t sure why Matthew was in a sour mood, but you knew you caused it. You only hoped he wasn’t too mad at you.

“Hey, you look beautiful,” Brady says as he walks up to you. He is holding a fresh drink in his hand, so you assume he was coming from the bar.

“Thank you,” you murmur, wondering if Matthew was around, too.

“Matthew, don’t you think so, too?” Brady says, and you turn your head to where Brady was directing his question to.

“Hi,” you whisper when your eyes lock with Matthew’s. You see anger in his eyes and are suddenly worried that Matthew is truly upset at you. However, Matthew’s face softens when you send him a soft smile, and the anger leaves his face.

“Are you sitting with us?” Brady asks.

“Of course, she’s sitting with us,” Matthew says and walks over to and wraps an arm around your waist. “She’s my girlfriend.”

You smile and let Matthew lead you to where his family is sitting. Matthew pulls out a chair for you to sit in, and he pushes it in for you. Matthew takes the seat next to you, and you’re suspicious that it was Brady’s when he grumbled about sitting in the chair next to you. Immediately upon sitting, Matthew places his hand on your thigh and scoots his chair closer to yours.

As the night carried on, Matthew never took his hand off your thigh, and he constantly whispered in your ear asking if you were okay. If you needed a refill on a drink, Matthew always went to the bar to get you a refill and insisted you shouldn’t have to get up. He always returned by placing the drink on the table and placing a kiss on your forehead.

When he returned with your third or fourth refill of the night, you smiled at him as he sat down and told him, “You know, I’m starting not to hate you anymore.”

Matthew looks at you sadly at your words. You still had animosity towards him? He thought he’s been working so hard to change your opinion of him, but it seems it's just barely working. You notice the strain and sadness in Matthew’s pout and wonder if you did something wrong. You place your hand on his thigh and look into his eyes. The minute your hand touched his thigh, Matthew was fine. It didn’t matter what you said because he knows he cares about you, and he knows that deep down, you care for him, too, despite your words.

“You okay?” you ask.

“Of course,” he says with a smile. “I’m sitting next to the prettiest person in the world; why wouldn’t I be okay?”

You smile at Matthew’s words and rest your head on his shoulder. What were you going to do when you and Matthew no longer could be like this? You knew you were going to miss it.

. . .

As the reception is nearing the final hours, everyone’s moods have turned more casual and laid back, including you and Matthew. Both of your chairs were right up against each other with you leaning heavily against Matthew with your head resting on his chest. His hand was wrapped around your shoulders and was rubbing small patterns on your shoulder. You and Matthew are talking to Brady and Taryn when a slow song, one of your favorites, begins to play. You perk up slightly, wondering if you should ask Matthew to dance with you.

“Hey, Yn, isn’t this one of your favorite songs?” Brady instigates.

“Oh, yeah, I guess it is,” you reply, and Matthew looks down at you softly.

“Do you want to dance, Yn?” Matthew asks. You nod and slowly pull away so he can lead you to the dance floor. You and Matthew position yourselves so that your hands are resting just below his neck with his resting on your mid-back. You both sway to the song, and you’re both entranced with each other’s eyes. As the song continues, Matthew’s hands slowly rise up to the bare skin of your upper back. He begins to stroke soft patterns on your skin, and it sends chills up your spine. You pull yourself closer to Matthew to try to use his warmth to evade the chills. You run your fingers through the hair at the nape of Matthew’s neck, and you see his Adam’s apple bob in his throat.

As the song comes to an end, Matthew licks his lips and leans his head towards yours. He pulls his head back slightly. Was this appropriate? He didn’t have the chance to further contemplate kissing you because you pulled away and led him back to the table. His one true regret that evening is that he didn’t kiss you. He wanted to kiss you. He wanted to kiss you badly, and he wanted nothing more than to kiss you and tell you how much he loves you.

He knows he’s dug himself into a hole he will never get out of.

. . .

“What are you doing today?” Matthew asks as you’re getting ready for the day. Based on his tone, you know something’s up, and you have to agree with whatever it is.

“Why?” you ask nervously.

“Would you want to go to my parents’ house for Sunday dinner? Like pastimes?”

You turn to face Matthew and smirk at him. “I feel like I don’t have a choice here.”

“My mom said that I had to bring you, no negotiations, so yeah, you have no choice.”

You laugh. “Okay, I can go to your parents’ for Sunday dinner, but I know my parents and brother won’t be there. They have plans tonight.”

“What are you going to do for the rest of the day, then?” Matthew asks knowing he wants to spend the day with you.

“I’m going to visit some friends from high school; what are you doing?”

“Just hanging around. Nothing much.”

“Okay then, why don’t I meet you back here, and then we can head over to your parents’ house?”

“Perfect,” Matthew says and turns away from you to go shower. On his face, he’s wearing a wide smile. He only hoped that you were just as excited as he was.

. . .

Unlike when you were growing up, you didn’t stay outside with the boys while Chantal and Keith got dinner together. This time, you and Taryn were in the kitchen helping Chantal cook while Brady and Matthew were out at the grill helping Keith. Now and then, you’d look out the backyard window and notice Matthew. Sometimes, he’d meet your eye and wink at you, and your face would grow warm. Or, sometimes, he wouldn’t be looking at you, but you saw him turn his head away as if he was just looking at you. Sometimes, he didn’t notice you looking at all, and you loved watching him interact with his dad and brother.

“He seems lighter when he’s around you,” Chantal comments after noticing you and Matthew staring at each other for the gazillionth time that afternoon.

“How so?” you ask.

“He’s nice,” Taryn says blatantly.

“Taryn,” Chantal scolds, and you can’t help but smile.

“I’m not wrong,” she defends.

Chantal rolls her eyes. “All I’m trying to say is, you guys are good for each other. It’s about time you both realized the dynamic you both have after years of animosity between you two.”

“Who knows, maybe we’ll finally be sisters,” Taryn jokes, hinting at the possibility of marriage. The smile on your face fades as you remember that you and Matthew aren’t dating. The smile fades knowing that you and Matthew wouldn’t ever get married, and when this ruse was over, many more people would get hurt than you both anticipated.

“Anyways, let’s go eat, yeah?” Chantal approaches. “Taryn, you put the salad on the plate and tell the boys we’re ready. Yn, you can help me scoop the other sides, okay?”

You were about to take the potato salad out to the table, but Chantal grabs your shoulder lightly and signals you to hold back for a moment.

“Just know, Matthew cares deeply for you,” she advises. “At the end of the day, he’s crazy about you; don’t forget that.”

You don’t have the words to say anything in response, so you just nod. Chantal seems to think you fully understand her words, so she walks out to the backyard. You don’t. What could she be talking about? Did she know that you and Matthew weren’t dating? You thought you both put up a pretty good act.

Opting to try to enjoy the evening, you place your worries to the back of your head and walk out to the patio. Just as you’re placing the potato salad on the table, Brady is placing the grilled corn on the table, too. Taryn’s already taken her usual seat, and because it’s a smaller crowd, Chantal has taken the seat where your brother would normally sit. Following tradition, you sit next to Taryn, and Brady takes the seat next to you. Keith has taken his seat and says that Matthew has gotten to grab a refill of drinks for you and him.

“Brady, move,” Matthew growls to his brother from behind you. You perk your head up and turn to see Matthew glaring at his brother.

“What? No! Go sit somewhere else. I’m already sitting here,” Brady says in retaliation and annoyance. He shakes his head and mutters a comment to you asking how you put up with him. You stifle a giggle knowing that the look in Matthew’s eyes was of determination, and the ordeal wasn’t over yet.

“Brady, I said, move,” Matthew says more forcefully.

“Why can’t you sit somewhere else? You never sit here.”

“Brady, move,” Matthew growls again.

“Why don’t you sit here, Matthew?” Taryn asks, trying to diffuse the situation. It was clear that Matthew wanted to sit next to you.

“No, I want Brady to move.”

“I’m not going to,” Brady is firm in his words. “Seriously, Yn, how do you deal with him sometimes?”

You don’t say anything, but Matthew does and is still incessant on Brady moving. “Brady, move and sit somewhere else. I want to sit next to my girlfriend.”

Brady stands up and stares at his brother. Looking at Matthew’s face, Brady knows that Matthew won’t give up on his endeavor, so Brady sighs and proceeds to get up. Brady goes and sits in his old normal seat, and Matthew sits next to you. He places a glass of water on the table for himself (he already had one beer but was driving, so he had to be safe) and lemonade for you. “Thank you, Brady,” Matthew says softly once he’s situated.

Brady grumbles in reply and mutters about how annoying Matthew was. You place your hand on Matthew’s thigh and lean over to whisper in his ear, “You didn’t have to force Brady to move, you know. It’s fine if we don’t sit next to each other.”

“It’s not fine,” Matthew whispers into your ear. “I wanted to sit next to my girlfriend, so I was going to sit next to my girlfriend.”

You open your mouth to say how it was all a ruse but decide against it.

“Shall we eat?” After observing her two sons spar over a seat and Matthew melt as he whispers into your ear, Chantal finally says.

Conversation, as everyone eats, varies from the wedding from the previous night to Taryn going to college to the upcoming season to your job. You loved how normal it was and how it was like before. It felt like before you and Matthew turned ten started hating each other. It was like when you were both young and the idea of marrying each other was still a thing. It was the way life was supposed to be had Matthew not started hating you at the age of ten. As you were both eating, Matthew always had a hand on you. Whether it was on your thigh or around your shoulder, Matthew was always touching you, and his family noticed completely.

“You know, when Matthew told us you were both dating, I was truly shocked. I was surprised you would ever go for him, Yn, considering you are way out of his league,” Brady says out of nowhere and tries to get back at his brother.

“Brady,” Keith warns.

“He’s not wrong, though,” Taryn points out, not realizing the true intentions of Brady's words. “As much as I love you, Matthew, Yn is completely out of your league.”

You notice Matthew stiffening up next to you, and you place your hand on his thigh to try to calm him down.

“I’m just surprised you even gave him a chance considering Matthew hated you for like half your life.”

“Taryn,” Chantal warns. Taryn looks up at her mother and shrugs in confusion.

“I never hated, Yn,” Matthew defends. “I’m not sure where you guys are getting that from.”

“How about the fact that — ow!” Brady is stopped as Chantal kicks him under the table. An awkward silence fills the table as everyone finishes up their meals. What did Matthew mean when he said he never hated you? His actions definitely showed it. Did he still hate you? All these questions swirled in your head as Taryn volunteers you and her for clearing the table. You move in autopilot as you clear the table still trying to figure out the meaning of Matthew’s words.

“I’m sorry for my comments out there,” Taryn apologizes. “I didn’t mean to say anything hurtful.”

“Don’t worry,” you tell her with a smile. “I wasn’t offended, but I think Matthew could use an apology more than me.”

“Nah, he’ll be fine. He’s got thick skin, and it’s not like I said anything he didn’t know.”

“Mmm,” you say, not sure how to respond.

“I’ve never seen Matthew so protective over someone before. Is possessive the right word? I don’t know, but I don’t think he’s ever been like that. If he would challenge Brady to something and wouldn’t immediately get his way, then he’d just drop the subject or physically fight Brady. He didn’t do either of those things. There’s something about you, Yn, that brings out a different side to Matthew,” Taryn points out as she’s rinsing the dishes, and you place them in the dishwasher.

“Interesting,” you say, again, not sure how to respond

“It’s a good thing. You’re both good for each other.”

. . .

You and Matthew say goodbye to Chantal, Keith, Brady, and Taryn two hours later and head back to the hotel you were staying at. Chantal couldn’t understand why you guys didn’t just stay with them before you flew back to Calgary the next morning. You weren’t sure how to explain that you’re not dating her son, and you needed some time to unwind and not have to be Matthew’s pretend girlfriend for extended periods of time.

As you’re driving to the hotel, you and Matthew sit in silence. Now and then, Matthew would shift in his seat in discomfort. You could tell he was still upset from Brady’s and Taryn’s comments. You reach your hand across the center console and place it on his thigh. You hear Matthew’s breath halt at the touch, and you’re confused at the sound.

“Matthew, are you okay?” you ask softly. “Don’t take Brady’s and Taryn’s words too seriously.”

“Yeah, but —”

“Matthew, don’t,” you interrupt as he stops at a red light. He turns to you, and his heart melts at how the lights on the street illuminate your face. He nods at your words, and suddenly, he wasn’t sad or frustrated anymore. The drive continues in silence, but your hand doesn’t leave his thigh. You have one lingering thought, though. “Matthew?”

“Mmm?” he asks.

“What did you mean when you said earlier that you didn’t hate me?”

“I didn’t realize there was anything to say. I don’t hate you,” Matthew says blatantly.

“Yeah, but you did hate me.”

Matthew laughs sourly. “Why do you think that even though I’ve told you that I didn’t hate you?”

“You were such a pest to me after we turned ten.”

“That didn’t mean I hated you, Yn.”

“Then why were you such a pest?” you ask.

“Because I had a giant crush on you when we were ten.”

“You had a what?” you asked, shocked, as Matthew drives into a parking space.

“A crush when we were ten,” Matthew answers and walks out of the car. He walks over to your side and opens the door for you. You step out of the car still reeling for his confession. “Don’t worry, Yn, I don’t have a crush on you anymore, so don’t worry.”

“Good,” you reply quietly. You aren’t sure why you are so upset at Matthew’s words, but you are. Did you have a crush on Matthew, now?

. . .

You’re standing in front of the mirror placing the final touches on your makeup and hair as you get ready to fly back to Calgary. You vaguely notice Matthew sitting in the chair behind you. You figured he was looking at his phone or watching the TV that was on. You lift your eyes to glance at the boy in question. Just as your eyes meet his face, Matthew looks up, and his eyes land right on yours. You stop moving, too entranced in his gaze. Matthew sends you a soft smile, and you mirror his smile. He sends you a wink, and your eyes instantly dart away from him. You continue getting ready, and you try to ignore the heat that rushed to your face and the rapid beating of your heart.

. . .

“I brought pizza and beer, is that good?” you say as you walk into Matthew’s kitchen. It was his first night back in Calgary since you said goodbye at the airport after the wedding, and he wanted to spend the night with you.

“That’s perfect,” he says and takes everything out of your hands.

You take your shoes off and walk further into this apartment. “Oh, looks like you cleaned.”

Matthew looks around the apartment and scratches the back of his neck. He turns to you, and you see a slight blush lining his cheeks. “Yeah, well, no one likes to live in a pigsty.”

You raise your eyebrow at his words. “What version of Matthew is this? The high school version of Matthew had the most disgusting bedroom ever.”

“Oh, shut up,” Matthew rolls his eyes and throws a napkin at you. You swat at it and begin to giggle. Matthew takes a piece of pizza and places it on a plate for you and opens a bottle of beer for you. You take it out of his hands with a soft “thank you” and walk over to his kitchen table. He places his plate and beer on the table and places his hands on your hips; your breath catches in your throat at his touch, and Matthew swears his heart started to beat a hundred times faster at the sound. He guides you towards the couch. “We’re sitting on the couch to eat.”

“But, Matthew,” you say after regaining your voice. You watch him grab his beer and plate from the table where he placed it and sits next to you.

“Nope, we’re not at Yn’s house. We’re at Matthew’s house, so we eat on the couch when we’re having a movie night.”

“Matthew,” you begin again.

He shakes his head as he takes a sip. “Don’t. I can’t eat this once training camp and the season starts, so let’s just enjoy it, okay?”

You nod and take a bite out of your pizza. Why did your breath hitch out of your throat when Matthew touched you? He’s touched you before, but why was it different this time?

. . .

“How about these?” Matthew asks as he holds a bag of chips in front of your face.

You shake your head. “I don’t like that flavor, and I already bought a bag of chips.”

“Maybe you should buy them for me, this lovely person who you forced to go grocery shopping with you.”

“That is not what happened, Matthew, and you know that,” your point out.

Matthew walks over to you and entraps you from where you’re standing at your shopping cart. He places his hands on the bar on your sides so you can’t move. He leans his head towards your ear and whispers, “Then tell me what happened.”

“You know what happened,” you murmur, trying to hide the fact that Matthew’s actions and words were sending chills down your spine.

“But I want you to tell me,” he whispers again into your ear.

“You showed up at my apartment just as I was about to leave,” you swallow before continuing, “and you insisted on coming with me, and here we are.”

“I don’t recall that being how it happened,” Matthew says against your neck, and the vibrations warm your entire body. You figure if Matthew was going to mess with you in the middle of the snack aisle at the grocery store, you might as well do the same. You wrap your arms around his neck and pull his face closer to yours. Your lips are micrometers from his, and you can tell that Matthew is nervous.

“That’s exactly how I remember it happening,” you say against his lips and with each word you said, your lips touching Matthew’s. Out of instinct and preparation for a kiss, Matthew places his hands on your waist, and you smirk, knowing you have him right where you want him. You run your hands up through his hair, and Matthew’s hold on you becomes limp. You lean closer, if possible, to him, and Matthew thinks you’re going to kiss him. Just when you would’ve leaned forward and kiss Matthew, you pull back and escape from where Matthew has you entrapped. You’re standing a few feet away from him, and you notice Matthew still in his trance. “You coming?”

That seems to take him out of his trance, and he nods and pushes the shopping cart to follow you. Matthew isn’t sure what happened, but he knows that whatever did just happen sent Matthew to heaven.

. . .

“What are you wearing?” Taryn asks you when you sit down next to her.

“Oh, this old thing?” you say, pretending to be oblivious.

“Matthew’s going to hate it considering you’re his girlfriend, who the Flames are playing, and what you’re not wearing.”

“I’m counting on it.”

“You are such a pest like Matthew. No wonder you guys are so good to each other,” Taryn rolls her eyes.

“You’re lucky we won or you’d have hell brought down upon you,” Matthew says when you’re standing outside the locker room after the game.

“I didn’t know you knew the devil personally,” you joke.

“Why did you have to wear Brady’s jersey, Yn? The day that I play the Sens, you are wearing the wrong brother’s jersey.”

You shrug but have a knowing smirk on your face. “I felt like it.”

Matthew groans when he sees Brady walking over to you and him. “Nice jersey,” Brady smirks.

“Thank you. Too bad you guys lost.”

“Seriously?” Matthew’s mouth’s agape.

“Oh shut up, you know I cheered for you when you scored,” you say and link arms with Brady as you head towards Chantal and Keith. “It worked. I pissed him off,” you whisper to Brady.

“You guys are so weird,” Brady chuckles. Matthew just stands behind you and Brady and is trying to figure out what just happened and how he’s going to get back at you.

. . .

When you showed up to the Senators-Flames game wearing Brady’s jersey, Matthew knew he had to think of a way to get back at you. After a week-long road trip and coming home at 2 am, Matthew wanted nothing more than to go home and sleep. He also wanted nothing more in the world to see you and to get back at you. When he got in his car to drive home, Matthew realized he had the perfect plan to get back at you. He knows that something you value deeply is your sleep, so because you messed with something important to Matthew, he was going to mess with something important to you.

Matthew drives to your apartment from the airport and parks in the parking spot next to your car. He isn’t sure why he thought you didn’t have a car and why you don’t drive it to work, but here your car is. He walks into the lobby of your building and waves to the nightguard working the night shift. He takes the elevator up to your floor and walks up to your door. He takes a deep breath and begins to aggressively ring your doorbell. He hopes that you wake up and none of your neighbors do.

The ringing continues for twenty seconds before you realize it’s not your alarm. You sit up for a few moments when you realize that it’s someone at the door. When the ringing doesn’t stop, you get worried that something’s wrong. You rush over to the door and open it. “Is everything okay?” you blurt out before noticing who’s the one ringing your doorbell.

“No, I have a very important message for you,” Matthew says with a smirk grazing his face.

“What happened? Is everything okay?” you’re worried now. You’re still barely awake, and if you were, you probably would have noticed the smirk on Matthew’s face.

“It’s an important message. Ready for it?”

“Yeah, yeah, just tell me!”

“Hi.”

“Hi? That’s it? Matthew, you rang my door like a lunatic and made me worry that something was seriously wrong. What’s wrong with you?”

“You wore Brady’s jersey to my hockey game.”

“So you decide to pull this shit?” you’re angry now, and Matthew realizes he made a mistake.

“I’m sorry. I also wanted to see you,” he mumbles.

You sigh and pull him into your apartment. “Then call me instead of halfway giving me a heart attack.”

Matthew nods and follows you into your apartment. He puts his bag down by the door and takes his shoes off.

“I’m going back to sleep, but you can change and shower in my washroom and join me when you’re ready. I’m not staying awake; I’m too tired.”

Matthew is shocked that you’re doing this. Matthew woke you at 2 in the morning just because and you’re opening your home for him despite it. Matthew will never take your friendship for granted ever again.

. . .

“Matthew, are we still fake dating?” you ask out of nowhere. It’s been months since the wedding, and you weren’t sure if you and Matthew still had that title. Recently, you both had been hanging out together, but it didn’t seem like “dating”. It was “friend” hangouts, and you were both disappointed and happy with it.

“Why do you ask?” Matthew asks. He doesn’t want to fake date you anymore; he wants to real date you, but he isn’t sure if you want that, too.

“Because,” you hesitate.

“Because, why?”

“I went out with some friends the other night and this guy was hitting on me, and I turned him down because I didn’t know if we were still under the ruse of dating.”

“Oh,” Matthew says dejectedly. “Don’t worry, if you see him, or anyone else, who’s hitting on you, then you can say yes. We, as of this moment, are just friends and no longer fake dating.”

You nod. “What do we tell people? Like, Shelly or your family?”

Matthew shrugs. “We realized we were better off friends. We went from the extreme of not being able to be around each other to the extreme of always being around each other and realized it doesn’t work.”

“Okay,” you say. You weren’t sure why you were so upset with Matthew’s response.

After the conversation, you head home about an hour later with your head still reeling from Matthew’s words. Just friends, he said, but you didn’t want that, did you? You wanted Matthew in every way that you could. You wanted him next to you when you woke up and when you fell asleep. You wanted good morning kisses, good night kisses, and just kisses in between that. You wanted Matthew because you liked him. You wanted Matthew because, in the months of fake dating, you fell for him. You fell for Matthew Tkachuk, the one boy you never thought you’d fall for, and the one boy who doesn’t want you like that.

. . .

You went out with Matthew and the team to celebrate another win. This time, you wore Matthew’s jersey, and you swore Matthew’s smile grew wider when he saw you in it. The celebration at the bar thus far has been fun. You weren’t sure if the team knows you and Matthew “broke up”, but it doesn’t matter because Matthew was still being touchy with you, and you hoped that you were hiding your feelings for Matthew well.

“I’m going to go get some refills for us, okay? Same drink for you?” Matthew whispers into your ear. You visibly shiver at his action, and you know Matthew noticed. You nod, not trusting your words. To try to ignore how you’re feeling, you immerse yourself in conversation with the group. It works, you think, but when you look up and see the back of Matthew’s head, your heart begins to beat rapidly. You needed to figure out how to get your emotions in check if you’re going to continue to be hanging out as friends with Matthew.

“So, you and Matthew have been going strong, huh?” Annica says when she notices you staring at Matthew. You snap your attention back to the woman. Matthew must not have told the team that you and he “broke up”. You guess that would be a weird conversation to have. You doubted Matthew said something along the lines of, “Yes, we broke up, but I’m going to keep bringing Yn around. Why? Well, we were never really dating, and now we are just friends. Yeah, it’s weird, but just go with it.”

“Oh, um, yeah,” you reply, hoping that Annica didn’t read too much into your words.

“I can tell he’s crazy about you and that he —,” Annica is interrupted by Elias bringing her another glass of wine and conversation changes. You look back at Matthew to try to figure out the meaning of Annica’s words. Just as your eyes land on Matthew’s head, he turns around, as if sensing your gaze, and meets your eyes. He smiles at you, and you instantly feel the tears falling from your eyes. You try to blink them away, but when Matthew begins to rush over to you, you know that he noticed. You excuse yourself from the group and rush out of the bar.

“Yn, yn,” Matthew calls out to you. He catches up to you with his long strides and places his hand gently on your shoulder. You turn to face him and feverishly wipe the tears away. “Yn, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” you lie.

“I didn’t know we cry over nothing now, but thanks for letting me know,” Matthew jokes, but it doesn’t do anything to make you feel better. “What’s wrong?”

“I can’t be your friend anymore; it just hurts too much to be your friend when I want more,” you blurt out and walk away. Matthew is too stunned at your words to follow after you. You want more? Since when? Matthew doesn’t come to his senses to chase after you until you’re getting into your car to drive home. What does he do now?

. . .

“Yn, yn, yn, I know you’re in there,” Matthew yells as he aggressively knocks on your apartment door the next day. “Yn, please. I just want to talk to you.

You angrily stalk to the door and open it. “What, Matthew? Maybe you should have taken a hint when I didn’t open the door the first eighteen times you knocked on it.”

“Yeah, well, we need to talk, so it doesn’t matter if I was knocking on your door for hours, I’m going to talk to you.”

“Matthew, there’s nothing to say,” you tell him through gritted teeth hoping not to let it show how much you wanted to cry at that moment.

“Like hell, there’s nothing to talk about,” Matthew aggressively replies as he runs his hands through his hair. “You can’t just say that and leave, you know. You’ve had me going crazy, Yn!”

“Well, it’s not like you feel the same way or want the same thing,” you mumble, looking at the ground.

“Are you kidding me? I’ve wanted this since I was ten!” Matthew replies incredulously.

“But you told me you didn’t like me anymore!”

“That’s because I thought you didn't like me like that.”

“Well, I do like you like that, Matthew.”

He takes a step closer to you and looks into your eyes. “That entire time we were fake dating? I was imagining it was real. I was doing everything in my power to make it real so that I could have that experience of being with you because I thought I’d never had a chance with you. Like my parents said, you are completely out of my league, so I was extremely honored that you ever wanted to fake date me.”

“I don’t want to fake date you.”

“I don’t want to fake date you, either,” Matthew chuckles.

“Oh, good,” you reply and look down at your feet. “I want to be your real girlfriend.”

Matthew laughs at your words. “That’s what not wanting to fake date means.”

“Oh, right,” you giggle at yourself.

“So, if I put my hands on your waist and kiss you, is that okay?”

“That’s more than okay, Matthew,” you tell him with a smile and place your hands on his face to bring him closer to you. Matthew smiles at your words and leans his head towards yours. You both softly placed your lips on each other before deepening the kiss. It wasn’t the first kiss you both shared, but it was the first time you kissed each other with your feelings on display. You both deepen the kiss, and Matthew pulls you into him. You run your fingers through the hair at the nape of Matthew’s neck, and you giggle at the small moan that leaves him. His moan and your giggle cause you both to pull back. Matthew gives you a pointed look.

“Great, our first kiss ends like that.”

You giggle again. “It’s not our first kiss, Matthew.”

“Still,” he pouts.

“Don’t worry,” you tease. “There will be many, many kisses in our future.”

“I’m going to hold you to that,” Matthew says with a grin and pulls you in for another kiss.

The get-together wasn’t perfect or what anyone expected, but it was your story, and you wouldn’t have it any other way.

[cloverrover]

can I ask some shang-chi???

i was thinking maybe something like he needs to pretend he’s y/n boyfriend at their friends wedding because they’re best friends e he don’t want they to be embarrassed

AN: Sooo I kinda went off with this and it turned into some angsty fluff and I'm sorry if it isn't what you wanted!! Anyways,

Warnings: uh I finished this while slightly drunk I won't lie lol

WC: 832

Wedding Crashers

“Hey Y/N I need you to be my date for a wedding.”

Shangqi doesn’t even let you take a breath to say hi over the phone before he bombards you with that.

“Sure what could possible go wrong.”

Famous last words said by everyone ever.

*-*-*

“When you said you needed a date to a wedding, this isn’t exactly what I thought you had meant.”

You didn’t think when you agreed to go with Shangqi to a wedding as a favor, you weren’t expecting to be ambushed by the entirety of his mom’s side of the family.

Flashback to a week ago when he’s begging you to go with him to a wedding in Ta Lo. His cousin or whatever family it was, was getting married and Ying Nan told him he should come. It would help him get a better look into how his moms life was before Wenwu, and before the Dweller in Darkness happened.

Only she had mentioned ‘bring Y/N since all you did last time was talk about her not being able to see this world’ and who was he to tell his aunt no.

*-*-*

Catching up to now, you’re being bombarded by his aunt with all kinds of questions that you have no earthly idea how to answer.

‘How long have you been dating’

‘Oh when are you coming back for your wedding?’

‘Are you planning to get married? Kids?’

Yeah that last one threw you for a loop. You weren’t expecting to be asked that when you agreed to go to this wedding as your friends date. Granted you also weren’t expecting to have the wedding be in a pocket dimension, but there you were, watching his cousin get married all while wearing the most comfortable outfit you’d ever come across.

But it was a beautiful ceremony. You were in tears by the end because not only were you in this beyond beautiful place with creatures you could only imagine, you were in this place with a man you greatly admired and cared for. Turning your head over your shoulder, you can see the genuine happiness in his eyes. A wrinkle or 2 more than before the Dweller in Darkness, but you’d have to be blind to NOT see how truly happy he was to be back in Ta Lo.

“You know, I think even Wong would understand if you took some more time to stay here. Take time to learn more in detail.” You go back to looking at the scene before you. Giving him time to actually process what you said. He knows you care about him, and he knows you know that he cares about you. But he never thought you’d suggest he stay here to take time and learn. Spend time away from you.

“You know I’d never leave you behind like that.”

You turn you head and give him a pointed look.

“Right. Other than that.”

“Shangqi I still don’t know why you needed to bring me. And don’t use your Auntie as an excuse.”

Silence encompasses the two while you watch the bride dance with her friends, and a small smile takes over your face. She’s truly happy and you can tell every time she looks at her new husband. You’re not worried about you though because you know your time will come. Even if you want it to be with a once trained assassin who happens to be obsessed with boba, he might not feel the same as you do.

You would’t know it, but Shangqi wanted the same thing. You might be looking at the couple, but he was looking at you. You looked as beautiful as when he first saw you. You’d be arguing otherwise since you thought you’d looked like a drowned rat after getting caught in an uncharacteristically late summer thunderstorm, but he didn’t care. The two of you had this weird dynamic where you knew the other cared, but not to the true extent. And nether of you wanted to test it out in fear of rejection. But neither of you wanted to risk your friendship so you stayed on the outskirts one something more.

“To be honest Y/N, I don’t know why I did either. All I know is that I wanted you to have a chance to see this world when it isn’t on the brink of destruction. You deserve it after all.”

Shangqi is too scared to look at your face, so he focuses on his cousin and her new husband. To voice even that much was a risk for him. You’re too focused on the last part to even think of the consequences.

“Deserve what? Shangqi.”

Your voice catches in your throat and Shangqi can hear it. He turns to look at you, and you couldn’t look away even if you wanted to. There’s a look in his eye you’re not sure you want to decipher even though you could.

“The world Y/N. You deserve the world.”she

[noctumbra]

𝒂𝒏𝒈𝒆𝒍

summary ─ “i’m so glad that we came across to each other,” bucky said. “it really felt nice to catch up with you, to talk to you.”

pairing ─ fuckboy!teacher!bucky barnes x reader

warnings ─ fluff, seeing each other after yeeeears later, coffee shop conversations, catching up, EPILOGUE

a/n ─ i said i wasn’t sure about writing this but i couldn’t stop myself because i want this soft and sweet closure for them without tears lol. thank you for all the love you’ve given me throughout this trilogy series. i’m really thankful. also i’m sorry for making y’all cry a lot djhfdjhf. this is the epilogue. hope you like it. please leave a comment if you do! thank you! i love you all <3

previous part ─ series masterlist

  TEN YEARS LATER

You exhaled a sigh of relief as you threw yourself into your favorite coffee shop, finally getting the chance to escape from the scorching heat of the sun. Stepping away from the door, you closed your eyes for a second. The cool breeze of the air conditioning was hitting your face so nicely, you felt like you could cry.

Shivering lightly, you opened your eyes and walked towards the short line in front of the register. You deserved a grande coffee after the very busy day you had. Your eyes were hurting slightly because you’ve been looking at the computer screen for hours now.

“Thank fuck the weekend is here,” you murmured to yourself as you fished your wallet out. You heard the guy in front of you humming in an approving way, and you froze for a second. “I should have whispered,” you said, and the guy chuckled this time. Grimacing to yourself, you decided to shut up.

As you waited for your turn, you started to watch people around you. Everyone was either tired-looking or way-too-jittery-looking because of all the caffeine and sweets. Most of them had come here with a friend, you realized and frowned lightly. Inhaling the freshly brewed coffee smell deeply, you moved your eyes to the guy in front of you.

He was tall. He had dark brown, mid-length hair, it was a bit longer than mid-length, though, you noted. He had whites peppered in it, and it looked good. He had a navy colored suit on him. The suit jacket was hugging his broad shoulders very nicely, and the suit pants he had on was complimenting his thick thighs. You hummed silently to yourself. You moved two steps forward, eyes still on the guy, as the people on the register was done with their order. It was the guy’s turn.

“Hello,” he murmured, and you felt a lick of familiarity. “Can I get a black coffee, grande?” You frowned. The guy’s voice was familiar. You watched him grabbing a small protein bar. “And this.” The boy at the register nodded as he punched in the order, and the guy in front of you pulled his wallet to pay.

You saw the hand tattoo. Your eyes widened.

“Name?” The boy asked. The guy looked up briefly.

“James.” You watched his hand as he pulled out some money and gave them to the boy. He was wearing the rings from─

“Bucky?” You asked, surprise audible in your voice. Bucky startled, his shoulders went stiff and he turned around. His baby blue eyes bored into yours as they widened with surprised.

“Y/N?” He breathed. “Oh my God.” You let out a chuckle.

“There you go,” the boy said, handing out the extra money. Bucky cursed lightly as he took the money and stepped aside. Just as he opened his mouth, his name was called. You saw him clenching his jaw. Your smile widened. “What can I get you?” You blinked, returning to the real world.

“Cappuccino, grande. Non-lactose milk, please. No foam,” you said your order and handed out the money. The boy nodded. “Y/N,” you gave him your name without him asking for it. The boy worked quick; he told your order and gave your cup to the barista and handed some of your money back. You bid him good day before you walked towards where Bucky was still standing.

Goddamn, you thought. He looked good.

The whites in his hair were also in his stubble, covering his chin slightly. He looked grown, albeit a bit older, and the crinkles around his eyes made him look more handsome than he normally was.

“Holy crap, Y/N,” Bucky said, his eyes moving up and down on your body. “I can’t believe you still look as gorgeous as before.” You chuckled, feeling the heat rushing to your cheeks after literal years. “Not that I expected you to look bad, by the way,” he said, rolling his eyes. You smiled. You grabbed your coffee when barista called out for you and turned to Bucky.

“Wanna recharge together in one of those tables?” You asked, pointing at the coffees. Bucky chuckled and nodded.

“Of course!” He said. “I would love to.”  

Both of you walked towards an empty table near the café windows. After you settled, you looked at him. He looked happy, you realized. He didn’t look haunted or sad anymore. He looked healthy and happy if not a little tired.

“You look great,” you said softly. “You don’t look so… sad anymore.” Bucky smiled. Taking a sip from his coffee, he nodded lightly.

“I’m… good,” he decided to say. “I swore not to lie to you again and I’m not gonna start that now,” he chuckled. “I wasn’t so good after our last talk, but time helped.” Bucky shrugged, his fingers were playing with his coffee cup. “I had time to focus on myself, and then my job. It kept me busy but also gave me some time to heal. So, I’m good.”

You smiled fondly at him. “You have no idea how happy I am to hear that,” you murmured. “You deserve to be good, Bucky. I’m glad you’re now. I just hope you’ll be better soon.” You watched him blush, your smile widened and turned soft.

Bucky shook himself and straightened up on his seat. “Tell me what you’ve been up to,” he said, excitement shining in his eyes. “I haven’t seen you for ten years. Are you a cat mom or dog mom or a real one?” You let out a surprised laugh.

“Bold of you to assume I want to be a mother, Buchanan,” you deadpanned. Bucky grinned toothily. “…I have a cat,” then you added. Bucky chuckled.

“Knew it,” he said, snapping his fingers. You rolled your eyes. “’s fine. I have an asshole for myself waiting me at home.” He rolled his eyes like you. “I swear he hates me and wants to kill me, but he doesn’t because I feed him.” You laughed, almost snorting out your cappuccino. Bucky grimaced at himself and then chuckled.

“Murderous cats,” you muttered. “I had an encounter with them once or twice.” You nodded seriously. “She tried to trip me and scared me to the death, so.” Bucky giggled. “She’s the cutest, though.” Bucky smiled. He knew that feeling all too well. You sighed.

“How’s teaching? I see that you kept your tattoos, but goodbye piercings?” You asked, eyebrows high on your forehead. Bucky grunted. It wasn’t a happy sound.

“Apparently, me having piercings might provoke the students to get the same look? They told that I cover my tattoos with my clothing but can’t hide my piercings, so they had to go. ‘s bullshit.”

“…It is,” you agreed because it was. “Your hand and neck tattoos are visible, and they were troubled with your piercings? Yup, bullshit.” He grunted again and sipped his coffee.

“Love the students, though,” he added without you asking. “They’re dumb sometimes and goofy almost all the time, but I love them.” He smiled. You could see that he really did love his students. He was great with children ─shocking, yes─ and seeing him being happy with his work was making you happy.

“I’m glad to hear that. You were weirdly good with kids,” you said, looking at him over your coffee. Bucky narrowed his eyes. “It was cute, don’t get me wrong. I just didn’t expect from someone who looked the way you did back in college and be good with kids. I was shocked when I learned that you were going to be a teacher.” Bucky snorted.

“I love teaching,” he defended himself with a faux-offended face. You grinned. “I enjoy telling them things that make them go ‘wow’ and love seeing them use what I taught.” He shrugged. “How is editing?”

“Ughhhh,” you groaned. “Don’t get me started.” He looked at you, eyes wide and half-grin visible on his face.

“Oh, okay,” he said and then giggled. “I feel like you have a lot of feelings bottled up in there.” He pointed your head, and you grunted like he did a couple minutes ago.

“People who don’t even know punctuation are sending me their works, and they are brave enough to tell me that they wanted it published.” Grunting even more, you sipped your coffee. “It’s a pain to read all the cringy, too fast moving works and editing. It feels like I’m re-writing their whole work.” Bucky frowned slightly, tilting his head to his side.

“Why do you work there, then?” He asked. “You could go back to school and do something extra? Or become a professor there?” You eyed him.

“I’ve been thinking about that for some time, now, to be honest,” you admitted. It wasn’t a lie; you were thinking about going back to school and maybe spend a couple years there and start teaching. “Been looking up my options. I’m still not quite sure, but the idea is there.”

“Well,” Bucky said, draining his coffee. “Let me know. I might be able to help in some way, maybe.” You smiled.

“Thank you, Bucky,” you murmured. He sent you a cheeky wink. “Tell me more!” You exclaimed. “You told me you’re a cat dad, what else?”

“I’m an uncle,” he said and then wiggled on his seat because it still made him giddy. “I have like two nieces now, my sisters like to procreate.” You chuckled. “Oh, do you know Sam Wilson?” You frowned.

“From Psychology Department?” He nodded. “Yeah, I saw him a couple times.” Putting your cup aside, you leaned forward. “What about him?”

“He got married to Natasha, the Russian Literature girl? The one that we both found scarily hot?” Giggling, you nodded. He grinned. “Well, they’re married now, and have a daughter.”

“No shit,” you said.

“Yes shit,” Bucky kept grinning. “Steve’s gonna get married in two months. Someone called Sharon Carter─”

“Wait, is her aunt Peggy Carter?” Bucky frowned, but nodded. “Holy shit, I work at Carter Publishing. She’s my boss.” Bucky laughed.

“Okay, nice coincidence,” he murmured.

“Damn,” you whispered, making him laugh again. “Give me more gossip, please. I’m obviously hiding under a rock.” Smiling, Bucky leaned forward on the table, too.

“Alright, hear me out.”

─

You talked about everything and anything for hours.

Bucky talked about his job, about his students and his plans for future which included going back to school and becoming a professor or something, so that he could teach at a university. He also said that he was going to miss his ‘high school dumbasses’, but he wanted to become better at what he was doing. He also talked about his siblings, he had three sisters, and his parents a little. He showed you a couple pictures of his cat, a very pretty white cat named Alpine, and his parent’s dogs, two German Shepherds.

“They’re so handsome,” you exclaimed when you saw them. Bucky chuckled.

“They are,” he agreed. “They’re also old.”

“Bleh,” you blurted, making him laugh. You felt a satisfying, warm bubble building up in your chest as you bit your lip and watched him laugh. Your feelings for him were still there, still present. You never stopped loving him, and you knew you were always going to love him. He was the one for you, but your story wasn’t meant to be end together. You knew and accepted that now.

You told him about your life, your job and future plans, too. You talked about your doubts about going back to school, and Bucky somehow helped you soothe them. He encouraged you, told you that you were going to be amazing and it wasn’t late for you to go back to school. You thanked him as you moved onto talk about your cat. You showed him a picture like he did to you.

“You have a Siamese!” He cried out. “Damn, he is handsome.” You chuckled.

“He is, but he’s the biggest asshole I’ve ever known,” you grumbled. Bucky giggled.

“Hey, cats are cats. They meant to be assholes,” he said.

“Hear, hear.” Both of you chuckled.

The silence fell between you was a happy and content one. You talked about things, made each other laugh and smile, and both of you saw that how much the other had grown. It was nice. Seeing him was nice.

“I know I apologized before, but I want to apologize again,” Bucky murmured softly after a while of silence. “I’m sorry for making you cry and for hurting you. You didn’t deserve any of the shit I put you through. I was an asshole, I know and see that now,” he added. “I’m so sorry, Y/N.” You smiled. Reaching out, you held his warm and large hand. The sense of familiarity consumed you.

“I have forgiven you years ago, James,” you murmured as softly as he did. He squeezed your hand. “Things happened, but both of us were still children.” Your smile became a little sad. “Obviously, we weren’t meant to be. I wish we were, though. I wish we were meant to be, but we are not. It’s okay. You’ve apologized before and owned up your mistakes. Thank you. I forgive you.” Bucky’s hold in your hand tightened just a bit more. You squeezed it right back. “I forgive you. It’s alright. We’re alright.”

Bucky took a deep breath. You could see that he felt lighter. His guilt must have been eating him alive, you realized, and your heart gave a painful thud at the thought.

“You have no idea how good it feels to hear that,” he said, slightly breathless. You just held his hand tighter and smiled wider. “I wish we were meant to be, too, Y/N. I─” He paused briefly. “I still love you. I have never stopped loving you, and I probably will never stop loving you. No one was you, and I doubt that someone will ever be you. I know now that we’ve grown out of each other. We might still love, yes, but…”

“It’s not enough anymore because even though we still love each other, that train took off,” you finished. He nodded. “So much has happened, and it changed us. Yes, Bucky, I get it. I still love you, too, and will always love you, but it’s not enough now.” He nodded again. Both of you sighed, feeling lighter and happier out of a sudden.

“I’m so glad that we came across to each other,” Bucky said. “It really felt nice to catch up with you, to talk to you.”

“Me too,” you agreed immediately. “I─” You held his other hand. “I’ve missed you, Bucky. It was very nice talking to you.” You looked at each other for a couple minutes before pulling back. You ignored how cold and empty your hands felt after he pulled his back. Standing up quietly, you grabbed your things. You walked out of the café together.

“I would like to see you sometimes,” Bucky said. “As friends. I would love to be your friend, Y/N.” You agreed. You didn’t want to deny him anymore. You wanted him in your life.

“I would love that,” you murmured and gave him your number. Bucky added you in his contacts and sent you a text.

“I will see you later, then,” Bucky murmured. It felt so good to say that, he realized. After saying goodbye to you many times, it felt amazing to say that he’d see you later. You smiled fondly.

“I will see you later,” you murmured back. Bucky gave you a nod and a large smile. Both of you bid good night to each other and walked opposite directions on the sidewalk.

This time, it wasn’t a goodbye.

This time, it was a promise to see the other again.

It was a nice, blossoming friendship.

─

[luci-in-trenchcoats]

If I Fell For You (Part 4) - Safety Nets

Summary: The reader has her first date with Jensen, a simple dinner at home with him and the kids, but when they get a moment alone, he shares some information about the accident hardly anyone knows. Just as things start to get moving with the pair, Jensen has to head to Canada for filming ahead of schedule but he’s not so sure he can go back to whole weeks away from his family right now...

Masterlist

Pairing: Jensen x nanny!reader

Word Count: 5,200ish

Warnings: language, death of a spouse, mention of injury, depression, anxiety, self-worth problems

A/N: Shopping buddies are the best ;) Please enjoy!

________

“Can I help set the table?” you asked the next evening, Jensen shaking his head at you.

“JJ, can you set the table for me?” asked Jensen. She jumped up from the couch and got out silverware, setting an extra spot for you.

“Y/N, are you and dad on a date?” she asked when she finished up. You looked down from where you leaned back against the counter, Jensen chuckling.

“Yes we are sweetie. If this goes well I’d like to take Y/N out on Friday, maybe you guys can go to Uncle Jared and Aunt Gen’s,” he said.

“You should go out with dad,” said JJ. 

“Oh I should?” you said, crossing your arms. “Why’s that?”

“Cause he’s strong and handsome and smart and funny and…” she said, holding up her hand and counting on her hand. 

“The hair,” he whispered, a smirk crossing your face.

“Oh and he’s only got a few gray hairs!” she said.

“Oh. Well that is interesting,” you laughed, Jensen smacking himself in the face.

“Great hair, JJ. Not gray. Great,” he said.

“You do have gray whiskers,” she said.

“Like...barely,” he said. “See what I put up with? A few teensy tiny little patches in my beard if it grows out.”

“I don’t know if I can date a man of such frail age,” you said. He cocked his head and you laughed, JJ giggling as she went to get the plates.

“Keep it up you two,” he said. You walked over to him, JJ going past with the plates. “Come to tease some more?”

“I was told you’re quite handsome, thought I’d get a closer look,” you said. 

“You can have as close a look as you want,” he said, flashing you a wink.

“Calm yourself, Casanova,” you said, reaching up to the cupboard to get another plate for JJ. “Here sweetie.”

“Thanks,” she said. She set it ran back over, hugging you. “Don’t go.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” you said.

“Good,” she said. You bent down and picked her up, resting her on your hip. 

“Where’d you think I was going?” you asked. She shrugged and Jensen stopped stirring the pot.

“I don’t know. Wherever you were before. Dad’s a lot happier since you live with us now,” she said.

“Well taking care of you three is hard all by yourself,” you said. You set her down and patted her head. “Go get your brother and sister for dinner.”

“You’re good with them,” he said, stirring the pot again.

“They’re people. Small people that don’t know half of what adults do but still people. Sometimes you gotta treat ‘em like it. Most of the time actually,” you said. 

“I talked to her earlier about this whole situation,” he said.

“Besides listing off all your selling points what’d she think?”

“Well apparently she’s in favor of me asking if you’d marry me tonight,” he said.

“Oh. Shotgun wedding. Simple. I like it,” you laughed. He turned his head and smiled, glancing down for a long moment, slowly returning.

“Why doesn’t this situation scare you? The kids, me who has been all over the place lately, not to mention my job, long distance, the shit you get just for-” he said, your hand covering his mouth.

“I didn’t say it’s not a lot, Jensen. It’s scary. Of course it is. Every single one of my relationships has ended badly for one reason or another. Friendships. Family ones. Romantic ones. You’re handsome and you’re so successful and I’m literally a nanny but you said you wouldn’t hurt me. So I’ll trust that you won’t and you trust I won’t hurt you and it’ll work itself out.”

“That simple huh.”

“I’m easy going. Let’s keep it simple,” you said.

“Simple works,” he said as you pulled the pot off the burner before it bubbled over. “Simple definitely works.”

“This is not a good idea,” you said two hours later, the kids in bed, you and Jensen jumping up and down on the trampoline in the yard.

“Oh most certainly not,” he said, landing near you and sending you up. You yelped and landed back down on your bottom, Jensen bouncing again, sending you up again and laughing this time. “Well that’s a cute sound.”

“Boys. Is it taught somewhere that you gotta tease a girl when you like her?” you asked, Jensen pulling you to your feet and bouncing around lightly.

“Right after manly man class, duh,” he said. 

“You would have failed, I can tell you right now,” you said. He scoffed and you shrugged. “That’s kinda a really good thing.”

“That your ex? Tough guy all the time?” he asked.

“Not like, to that extent or anything. I had a bad day and I really needed someone and he let me down. He got mad at me for it actually. He called depression a phase I needed to get over with,” you said. He stopped bouncing and you did the same, glancing down. Next thing you knew he playfully tackled you onto the trampoline, rolling to his side and smiling at you. 

“Some of my friends have it. One of my best friends does. Jared. If he ever knocks on the door late at night or whatever, let him in.”

“You take care of everyone in your life it seems,” you said.

“You take care of the people you care about, not insult them. Hopefully the ex figures that out someday.”

“How’d you figure it out?” 

“I don’t do anything anyone else shouldn’t,” he said.

“Maybe that’s it,” you said. “You’re unapologetically good and you don’t even know how rare that is.”

“It takes up too much energy to be angry or mean or cruel. I’d just rather be happy,” he said.

“You got a lot of friends, don’t you.”

“My fair share,” he said.

“How many would you call close?”

“Maybe ten or so.”

“How many real close?”

“Two or three.”

“How many know what really happened that day? Your wife…” you said. He stared at you and swallowed.

“How do you know?” he asked quietly.

“Because when we met you said she died in an accident but then you said it was her head. You’re holding onto something, something you don’t talk about.”

“She was driving when the aneurysm happened. I was in the car with her. I almost died. It’s seemed easier to lie about that.”

“Who knows?”

“My parents and Jared. They’re the only ones.”

“You ever talk to anyone about it?” 

“I went to talk to someone a few times. I’m better now,” he said with a smile. “I don’t share a lot if you may have guessed already. Not to too many people. But you it feels so easy to.”

“Must be special,” you said. He smiled and reached a hand over, twirling a piece of your hair in his fingers. “That why you like me?”

“There’s a lot of stereotypical reasons to like someone and part of that is true in why you choose someone I suppose. But there’s this other part that when you meet someone that you can’t really explain.”

“I get that. I get all of it. My brain always seems to want to go to the bad scenario first I suppose,” you said. You looked up at the black sky, Jensen toying with another strand between two fingers. “I wish it didn’t do that so much.”

“You’re just trying to protect yourself is all,” he said.

“But I come off as pushy and distant,” you said, turning your head. “Like I’m that person that’s cool with everything being casual.”

“Well think of it like this trampoline. It’s the only thing holding us up right now right?” he asked and you hummed. “Well my life, I’ve had thousands of safety nets below me to catch me when I fall so even if I tore through one, there was more to hold me up while the others got fixed. You never had as many to start and I think more of yours broke and there was no way to fix them in time so you kept tumbling through until you got to the ground.”

“Your point?”

“Maybe some people hit the ground and others never do. But the people who hit the ground, as they go back up they can make the best most solid nets in the world to hold them up. One good net beats a thousand flimsy ones.”

“So at what age do I get the wisdom?” you asked, turning your head and smiling over at him.

“You don’t. My job has made me fall through more nets than I wanted to and this year made me realize I might not have a thousand strong nets at the bottom but I just needed one to get by and now I’m working back up. You’re not even close to being down low either. You’ve already had the hardest part of your life. It’s all up from here.”

You leaned over and he lay back on the trampoline, gazing up at you. You lowered your head as he cupped your cheek, pulling you in close until your lips were touching. Part of your mind was reeling from that in itself but the other half knew that was his first kiss since his wife. You inched back but stayed close, Jensen peeling open his eyes. 

“You okay?” you asked.

“Very,” he said. You lay back beside him, Jensen letting you go. His hand reached out for yours though and laced your fingers together. “Why’d you kiss me?”

“Wanted to,” you said.

“Cool. I wanted to kiss you too,” he said. 

“Alright then.” You stared upwards, the trampoline shifting again. He popped into view propped up on one arm, your head turning slightly. He was flush, even in the dim light. He moved slowly but you let him come to you, a barely there gentle kiss that lingered, a thousand gears going in your head, likely a thousand more going off in his. 

“I’m okay,” he said quietly as he pulled back a few inches. Your fingers carded through his hair and he smiled. “I’ll get the hang of this again. I promise.”

“That was more than enough for one night,” you said. “We said slow and we’ll go slow, okay?”

“Sounds good with me.”

Two Days Later

“Y/N, can I have a word with you in my office?” asked Jensen as you were picking up after dinner. You hummed and put the last fork in the dishwasher before following him down to a quieter part of the house. He shut the door behind you and he ran his hand over his face. “This is about work, my work, but it’s going to involve you. Heavily.”

“What’s up?” you asked, taking a seat in a chair. He sat in his by his desk, scrunching up his face.

“My job with that TV show, The Boys, it films in Canada. I’m gonna need to be up there four, maybe five months. The way things used to work with my wife was I would fly back home every weekend or every other weekend. I never went more than 2 weeks seeing the kids. I don’t have to film every day but it’s easier to stay there for the week. But it’s...it’s difficult for me. It’s difficult for them and...they lost one parent this year. I can’t stay away that long for months. I just can’t do it anymore.”

“That’s perfectly understandable,” you said.

“I’d like to temporarily move to Canada while I film. No flying back and forth. The kids can see me everyday and I can see them. JJ’s school still offers remote learning and I’m homeschool certified in a pinch. Twins can do daycare easy. The only issue I have is the same one I originally did. I still need a nanny. Only now in a different country...and it’s gonna be more late nights on the regular.”

“I see,” you said.

“This isn’t what you signed up for so if you don’t want it, that’s okay. I can find a nanny up there and we can try long distance and-” he said before you stood and walked in front of him.

“I’m in.”

“Really? I mean it’s gonna be awhile before we’re back in the states,” he said.

“It sounds like fun.”

“Awesome. I was really hoping you’d say that,” he said.

“So where are we going?” you asked.

“Toronto. Well, near there. I gotta start filming start of February but there’s promo stuff to do in late January,” he said.

“It’s already late January,” you laughed. “When do we have to move?”

“Uh, tomorrow,” he said. “Just got the call a few hours ago. I got a house to rent lined up already.”

“Oh wow. Alright. Uh, what do I need to do exactly?” you asked.

“Keep stuff normal. Don’t worry about cleaning or anything. Maybe box up anything you want to bring and some of the kids stuff. Toys, books, that stuff. I’ll handle their bags. We’ll ship it all up tomorrow and take a flight up at night,” he said.

“Okay, cool,” you said. “Wait I need like, a snow jacket right?”

“We’ll get you set up there with coat and boots and all that,” he said. 

“Gotcha,” you said, starting to leave before you spun around and walked smack into his chest. “Wait. I have a lot more questions actually. Like...I don’t have a passport?”

“I know which is why tomorrow morning first thing you’re gonna go down to the post office, get your passport done up and when it comes in, we’ll get it shipped up to Canada,” he said.

“How do I get into Canada though?”

“We share a border with them so we bring your license and birth certificate, you can go right on in no problem,” he said.

“Oh. Okay,” you said. “Wait. I’ve never been on an airplane before. What-”

“Okay,” he laughed. “Take a hot second and breathe and we’ll go from there. I know it’s last minute but it’ll work out. I promise.”

“Y/N,” said Jensen, tapping your shoulder two days later. You hummed and reluctantly turned your head away from staring out the back sliding doors to the snow covered yard and trees around you. “Have you ever seen snow before?”

“No. Not like this,” you said, head going back to staring outside. “It’s something out of a movie.”

“You had that same look on your face when we took off last night in the plane.”

“What’s that?”

“Those little moments where the years fall off and you get that childish joy, like nothing bad has ever happened,” he said. 

“I suppose there’s hope for me yet,” you said with a smile.

“Oh there was always that,” he chuckled. He threw an arm over your shoulders and you leaned into him. “Can I still take you out Friday?”

“Who’s gonna watch the kids?” you asked.

“My buddy.”

“Does he exist?” you said, grinning at him. 

“Cute,” he said, ruffling your bedhead. “Yes he does exist. How’s Friday night sound?”

“Do I need a dress?” you asked.

“Probably. It’s a nice place,” he said. “My favorite place in Toronto actually. Jeans are perfectly acceptable there though.”

“I’ll pick out a dress today too,” you said. You kissed his cheek and watched them turn an ever so light pink. “You’re cute.”

“Shut up,” he chuckled. “Put your boots and coat on the card I gave you alright? That’s a business expense.”

“Whatever you say boss,” you said. “I’m gonna duck out before the little ones get up. I’ll try not to be gone too long.”

“Take your time. Drive slow in the snow until you get the hang of it, okay?”

“I will. I promise.”

“What the fuck’s the difference between therma heat and therma wear…” you mumbled to yourself, gawking at the glove rack at the store an hour later.

“I think it’s just marketing,” said the guy on the other side. You jumped and managed to knock about five pairs off the hangers. He laughed quietly and peeked his head around. “Didn’t mean to spoke ya.”

“It’s alright. I’m…” you said, the man smiling as you shook your head out. “Um...I…”

“You okay?” he asked, raising an eyebrow. You nodded and he smiled. “You sure cause you were just having a life crisis over gloves a second ago and now you can’t seem to form a sentence.”

“You’re Home…” you said, shutting your eyes. “You’re the actor that plays...I’m having a fucking day.”

“Looks like it,” he said, bending down and picking up some of the gloves. He laughed again and you got the ones closest to you, putting them back. “You know it’s like ten degrees outside right? Not exactly sneaker weather.”

“I know. This place looks pretty but it’s worse than a Texas summer almost with how cold it is.”

“I thought you sounded not from here,” he said with a smile. “I’m not from around here either. I do better with the heat myself.”

“Okay um, listen...uh, what’s your name, not Homelander?” you asked.

“Antony,” he chuckled again.

“I’m Y/N. I’m just gonna get the weird stuff out of the way cause…” you said as he smiled but stepped back a foot. “Yeah. Um I’m a fan but like...do you know Jensen Ackles?”

“Why?” he asked.

“He’s my boss...and my boyfriend but that’s another story. We might run into each other at some point, probably very likely. Just wanted to throw that out there.”

“Your boss?” he asked.

“I nanny his kids. I wouldn’t believe me if I were you either. I should go,” you said. You groaned when you were past him, hearing a pair of feet jog to catch up with you. 

“I know you. You were on his instagram last week right? Yeah okay, that makes sense why a clueless Texas girl is stressing over gloves.”

“Excuse me?” He shook his head and smiled. 

“Get a pair of thick gloves, thinner ones but not too thin, a warm hat, good boots for traction along with some boot spray and go with a longer hooded parka. It’ll be warmer. Throw in a few pairs of wool socks to be sure,” he said.

“Oh. Thank you,” you said. You looked back at the store and then to him. “There’s like five hundred coats in here.”

“How about you buy me a cup of coffee and I’ll help you out. Deal?”

“Why would you help me?” you asked.

“Well I’m gonna be working with Jensen quite a bit and he’s your boyfriend too apparently plus it’s just nice,” he said.

“You’re so not like your character.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment. We’ll be out of here in an hour tops.”

Antony turned out to be very helpful since apparently you had an uncanny ability to be attracted to the least warmth rated items in the whole store. But you had your parka and boots on now, other items tucked away in the bags as you browsed through a rack of black dresses at a different store.

“We dress shopping now?” said Antony, sipping on his coffee cup.

“Dude,” you said, jumping again. “You gotta learn to make noise.”

“It’s my natural stealth,” he said. “That one.”

“What?”

“That one,” he said, nodding to a dress on the wall.

“I can’t pull that one off,” you said.

“Try it. I’ll watch your stuff,” he said.

“You’re oddly nice,” you said. “To a stranger.”

“Well this beats my plans of walking around the mall buying crap I don’t need. Besides, I like you.”

“I have a boyfriend.”

“I’m taken,” he laughed. “Come on. Everybody needs a shopping buddy.”

“Okay but if you’re a weirdo Jensen will kick your ass,” you said, finding your size and taking it off the rack. “Just sayin’.”

“I like the guy more already,” he said. “It’s not like it’s your first date or anything.”

“...Second date.” He stared and looked away. “It’s…complicated.”

“I heard about...you know…the accident,” he said. 

“Let him bring that up,” you said and he nodded. You took the dress into the changing room and smirked at the mirror. “Alright, maybe we give this one a shot.”

You changed back and found Antony on a bench outside. 

“I should take you shopping more often,” you said. “You have good taste.”

“Sounds like a winner,” he said, handing you back your bags. “I gotta head out for work but it was nice meeting you, Y/N. I’m sure I’ll see you around very soon.”

“Me too. Thanks for the help today, really.”

“Not a problem at all. See ya later,” he said as he headed out. You gave him a wave and picked out a pair of black heels to go with the dress before you were heading home.

“Hey Jensen,” you said late that night. He’d had to go in for some photos in the afternoon and had taken quite a bit longer than he’d anticipated. “Leftovers are in the container on the top shelf.”

“Thanks, Y/N,” he said. He rubbed his eyes and padded into the kitchen before tossing the container in the microwave.

“Um, Jensen? Can I talk to you about work?” you asked. His ears perked up and he nodded while he looked around for a spoon. “Second drawer to the left.”

“Thanks,” he said. “So what’s up? Something wrong?”

“Not exactly. I was thinking earlier though about a backup plan,” you said. He took out the container and grabbed his spoon sitting across from you at the table.

“What’s a backup plan?” he asked, shoveling a spoonful of too hot pasta into his mouth.

“Well down in Austin, say I was suddenly unable to perform my job duties cause I’m sick or hurt or I’m off on vacation or whatever. Down there I have a network of other nannies that could step in temporarily, they can do a pick up or drop off in a bind, that sort of thing. It’s kind of a support group in way. It’s good for me and for you.”

“They must have one of those things up here?” he asked, taking a slower bite this time. You spun your computer around and he nodded. “Tornanny. That’s cute. You gotta sign up or something?”

“I need to take a four hour class. They have one on Saturday morning. Is it okay if I sign up?” you asked. He chuckled and took another bite of food.

“Weekends are still yours to do as you please. I need a bit more help during weeknights or mornings but weekends are still yours. I’m also compensating your pay for the additional time and no you’re not winning that argument so don’t even try.”

“Okay. I’m gonna sign up,” you said, turning the computer back.

“What was that thing on the side?” he asked.

“Hm?” you said as you started filling in the form.

“Some happy hour thing on the side,” he said. You flicked your eyes over to the side of the page and saw the group posting. “That could be fun.”

“Do I look like the kind of person that goes to happy hours?” you said.

“Well maybe you could meet a nanny friend in this group, one you could maybe get to cover for you if you ever needed it. I did steal you away from everything you know to a different country with a days notice after all. I’d go with you if you want,” he said. 

“What about the kids?”

“Hm?”

“Jensen. I’m starting to see a fatal flaw in me being the nanny and us dating. I’m the person that should be watching the kids when you go out,” you said.

“Hm,” he said, eating for a few moments. “You do have a point. I think we need to renegotiate your contract.”

“Wait you’re firing me?” you said, Jensen shaking his head and laughing. “Okay cause you were about to lose a girlfriend for a second there.”

He smiled to himself and looked down, playing with his dinner. 

“So what are you talking about?” you asked.

“Well, girlfriend,” he chuckled. “How about this? Weekends you don’t work, at all, for any reason. If you watch the kids for an hour while I duck to the store, it’s cause you’re doing it cause of us, not as part of your job. If we want to go out or on a date on the weekend, we’ll get a sitter. I had a go to in Vancouver when I lived there. I’ll give her a call, see if she knows anyone out here that would work. That sound good?”

“I guess that’s alright,” you said. He raised and eyebrow and you shrugged. “I enjoy our alone time, don’t get me wrong. I don’t want to take away from them though.”

“I appreciate the sentiment but I’m not saying…” he said before he trailed off and ate the last bites of his food. “I moved us so they could see me everyday which is far more than they ever did when I filmed my show. I will still make them breakfast. I will still put them to bed. I will still have lunch with them and play with them and all of it. They’ll always by my first priority. But a relationship with kids doesn’t always mean the kids are around. Sometimes they come with, sometimes they stay home. I’m not talking about ditching them for days on end. A few hours on a Saturday night, most of which they’ll be in bed asleep is all I’m talking about. We have a right to a little bit of time for ourselves. It’s not as easy with them than it was the first time around but we just have to try harder is all.”

“Okay,” you said. “I’m good with that. How was your first day?”

“Good. We did a lot of promotional stuff. I won’t start acting until next week. I heard you met Antony shopping today.”

“Yeah. I didn’t get a chance to tell you when I got home earlier. He seems like a nice guy.”

“He does. He invited us to dinner once we settle into a routine,” he said. “Apparently you two are shopping buddies now.”

“The man does know how to choose a dress.”

“Good thing I packed my lucky suit up here,” he said. 

“Speaking of suits...you wouldn’t happen to have any of you in your Soldier Boy suit from today?” 

“No spoilers,” he said with a smirk. You jutted out your lip and he rolled his eyes, taking out his phone. He tapped and slid it over to you, your eyes wide. You must have stared for a solid minute before you looked over at him, Jensen leaned back in his chair with his hands behind his head and a huge grin on his face. “You think I’m hot, don’t you.”

“Pft, no,” you said, biting your bottom lip before you licked it. He was still grinning out of the corner of your eye and you gave him the phone back. “Maybe...you’re kinda hot. But it’s totally the suit. Like right now, ugh, horrendous.”

“Nah, I’m hot,” he said, sticking out his stomach and rubbing it.

“I’m impressed you can actually do that,” you said. 

“Everybody’s got a tummy,” he said. “Seriously though, you think the suit is cool?”

“It looks awesome. I’d love to see it in person,” you said.

“Oh you guys will be on set at some point,” he said. “I’m kinda nervous about next week.”

“Really? Why? You’re a great actor.”

“Have you ever seen a single thing I’ve done,” he chuckled.

“I did in fact see that horror movie on a date years ago. Something with like mining?” you asked. 

“That’s what you saw? Like that movie? I hope the date worked out at least,” he said with a big smirk.

“Actually it was the crappy ex,” you said.

“Oh. You guys must have dated for a long time then.”

“Since we were seventeen,” you said. He stared and you shrugged. “I kept waiting for him to grow up and change. Eventually I realized he never would.”

“Did you love him?”

“I loved the idea of him. I liked him. I was with him for close to 12 years so I obviously liked him. But it wasn’t love. I could never be myself all the way around him and that’s not a way to live. There was none of that feeling when you first meet someone, you know?”

“Would I be pushing to ask if you ever thought about marrying the guy?”

“He did propose actually. A few times,” you said. “I turned him down. Things really went downhill from there though.”

“Why’d you say no?”

“I didn’t want to marry someone that made me feel bad about being me. Got tired of him telling me to get over everything that happened as a kid, dress a certain way, should I really have dessert, that kind of crap.”

“It’s part of who you are. I wouldn’t exactly call your past something to get over,” said Jensen. “Why would he even make you feel bad about it? You’re so normal.”

“I don’t think his daddy hugged him enough,” you said.

“No need to be a dick to other people for it,” he said. You smiled as you finished filling out the rest of the form for the class before sending it off. “Hey on the plus side I did get a good recommendation for daycare today. I was gonna check it out tomorrow morning, maybe get the twins in next week. Apparently they’re also hooked up with a school so JJ can go to school with some other American kids too instead of being stuck behind a screen here all day.”

“That’s great news. She can make some new friends that way. You know I was thinking maybe she could get signed up for indoor soccer. When I played the new season normally started right at the beginning of February.”

“Is it safe?” he asked. “I thought that could get pretty dangerous.”

“Adult leagues can be but kids her age it’s just running back and forth mostly. She could make some new friends, give her something fun to look forward to.”

“It’s not a bad idea. I would like her to be involved in something since she’s out of dance and soccer back home right now. I’ll talk it over with her in the morning,” he said. “She say something to you about it?”

“No. I just know what it’s like to be the new kid,” you said. “Soccer helped me make friends at school.”

“You and your mom move after your dad passed?” he asked.

“Uh, yeah. I was little so I don’t remember so much,” you said, an email coming in that your spot in the class was reserved. “Alright. Looks like I’m all set for eight on Saturday.”

“I’ll try not to keep you out too late on Friday night then,” he said.

“I never said that.”

“I like flirty you,” he said, both of you looking up at the ceiling when you heard a loud pair of giggles. “Duty calls. Goodnight, Y/N.”

“Goodnight Jensen.”

________

A/N: Read Part 5 here!

[youwerenevermeanttofeelalone]

The Stars Were Bright Above | Peter Parker

✦ pairing — Peter Parker x female!Plus Size Reader

✦ word count — 12k

✦ fake dating AU

✦ summary — in an attempt to make your best friend Harry jealous, you accept to fake date Peter who needs to cover up his big secret.

✦ request — I just read your Harry series and I was wondering if you could do something similar where reader is in love with Harry and she fake dates Peter and falls for him?

✦ warnings — angst, family issues, mentions of food and alcohol, language, reader and Peter are in college, brief depictions of anxiety, sexually suggestive content, drama between friends, fluff.

✦ author's note — whew, this one was supposed to be a quick one shot that’d help me get back into writing after days with a horrible migraine and then I completely lost control of it. I managed to find a compromise in 12k words after an excruciating editing process. Hope it’s coherent and that you like it!

════════════════════════

“I would love to stop and chat,” you told Peter as you looked for your keys, “but I’m in a hurry.”

“I’ll walk you to your car.”

If only you could find the stupid keys first! Oh, well, you’d check your backpack once you were in the parking lot.

Peter could have used the time it took you to cross campus to tell you whatever it was he wanted to say. Instead, he fiddled with the straps of his backpack and walked beside you in complete silence.

“I need a favor,” he finally said when you stopped in front of your car. As though it hadn’t been obvious.

“Peter,” you sighed, trying to hold your open backpack against your knee. A horrible idea, really. “My mom will kill me if I’m late for lunch.”

He took your backpack in his hands and held it for you. “I... it’s embarrassing.”

“We can talk about it tomorrow.”

“It can’t wait!”

His tone made you lift your head. “Are you alright? Is your aunt sick or something?”

He shook his head. “It’s about May in a way... oh, that rhymed.”

“Focus.”

“Right, right. Uhmmm she thought I was hiding something from her—“

You interrupted, “Were you?”

“Kind of,” he admitted. “So I told her I have a girlfriend.”

“I didn’t know you were dating anybody.”

“I’m not.”

“So why did you—“ You groaned. “Oh my God, you’re an idiot.”

“I deserve that one.”

“You want me to convince Gwen?”

“Gwen? Why would—“ He shook his head. Avoiding your eyes, he said, “I told her it was you.”

“And she believed you?”

“I’m as shocked as you are!”

“So you want me to lie to your aunt and tell her I’m dating you.” You closed your backpack, having had no luck finding your keys.

“More or less.” Peter continued holding your backpack, patiently waiting for you to retrieve it. “I was thinking more along the lines of lying to everybody and tell them we’re dating.”

You brought a hand to your hair, lightly gripping it for a moment. “I’m not a good actress.”

“I think your keys are in your hoodie.”

You palmed the front pocket where the sound of metal against metal let you know he was right. Introducing your hand, you withdrew the keys. “How did you know?”

“I heard them.”

“You have amazing hearing.” You reached over to take your backpack.

He handed it to you. “It’s a blessing and a curse.”

You unlocked the car and opened the back door on the driver’s side. Leaving your backpack onto the backseat, you heard Peter ask, “So... are you helping me?”

Standing straight, you turned to peer at him. You had to squint as the sun hit your face. “Can we talk later or tomorrow?”

He nodded. “Text me. Please.”

Peter had always been considerate with you and this time was no different. He patted your back before walking away on the opposite direction.

You bit your bottom lip. “Hey.”

Peter turned around. “Mmh?”

“Want me to drop you off?”

“Sure.”

It was nice to have some company in the car after a pretty lonely day. Gwen was nowhere to be seen and you didn’t share classes with Mary Jane. You had other friends, but they didn’t make you feel complete like Gwen, Mary Jane, Flash, Peter, and Harry did.

Harry...

You couldn’t stop yourself from asking, “Did you tell Harry?”

He didn’t sound surprised. “I was waiting for your answer. I told May she was the first person to know.”

You hummed. “What would I have to do?”

“She’ll want to confirm it’s true so you’d have dinner with us and then we would act like a couple in front of everybody.”

“Like a couple?”

“Just holding hands and hugging,” he clarified. “Maybe the occasional kiss on the cheek to throw people off their rhythm. Oh, and pet names!”

“You’ve got everything planned, huh.”

“My life depends on this,” he said dramatically.

“Do I get to know your secret if I say yes?”

He considered your question for a moment. “Eventually.”

You couldn’t believe you were doing this. “When should I come over for dinner?”

Peter’s eyes lit up. “Probably this weekend. I’ll ask May and text you.”

“Cool. I’ll talk to you later, then.”

He nodded. “Be safe.”

“You too.”

You pulled over a few blocks from your family home to put on some makeup, that way you would avoid the chastising that came every time your mom saw the bags under your eyes.

Wondering if Peter could tell the reason behind your helpfulness, you got rid of your hoodie and slipped a sweater on.

Doing this every time you visited after school was tiring, but it was better than putting up with meaningless fights.

Your mom was losing her patience when you arrived, you could see it on her face. She glared at you as you approached her to kiss her cheek. This and the fact that you couldn’t stand pretending so many aspects of your personality, were what lead you to choose to live on your own.

She hadn’t been too happy about it, but she was busy with the family business, her social life, and your sister to complain. Your dad always did what any of you wanted, mostly to make you three shut up.

“Sorry, sorry, sorry! Peter needed help with something.”

You sat down next to your sister who lifted an eyebrow.

“You’ve been spending a lot of time with him lately,” your mom suspiciously pointed out.

Oh, so she was keeping tabs on what you did on your free time...

The truth was there had never been anything between you and Peter.

You met him on his first day of college. He was the new kid everybody was intrigued by. Harry hated him at first and although you didn’t, you didn’t speak to him until Harry decided to stop being an asshole.

Now Harry was too busy with Liz, his gorgeous girlfriend, to care about you, his best friend.

It hurt, it really did. You befriended Harry when you were kids and had been inseparable up until now. Of course you had to put up with his weird flings, but he had never cast you aside for them.

You had harbored hope that he was secretly into you, but the less he spoke to you the more you realized he hadn’t found the one until he met Liz. That hurt even more — you were supposed to be the one.

Everything had played out in your mind from the moment you realized you had a crush on him. You would start dating in high school or college, get married, have kids, be a happy family...

But ever since he left you by yourself at a party when he was supposed to be your ride, you realized he hadn’t cared as much as you did.

Peter walked you to your apartment that night and made sure you drank plenty of water. He didn’t have to do it, Gwen and Mary Jane had already offered to do it themselves, but for some reason he felt like it.

You took a sip of water, realizing your mom and your sister were waiting for an answer. “He’s nice,” you opted for saying.

“Nice, eh,” you sister teased you.

“Yeah, nice. Is there a problem with that?”

You knew that attitude would only make them believe they were right in their assumptions. It was what Peter needed from you either way.

Truthfully, Peter wasn’t always nice, but you knew he tried.

“Are we waiting for dad?” you asked.

Your mom nodded. “He’ll be home any moment now.”

Your mom never complained when your dad was late, or when he was too busy to come home for lunch. You were used to it, she was biased in his favor — she had been since you were a child.

You checked your phone to keep yourself entertained. The Notification Center showed multiple badges, but the messages one caught your eye immediately.

Gwen💛: Missed you today.

You unlocked your phone to reply that you had missed her too when another text came in.

Pete: May said it would be cool if the three of us had dinner on Saturday.

You answered Peter first.

Sounds good to me. Just tell me what should I bring.

Your presence is more than enough, you’re our guest.

You huffed a laugh as you typed. Look at you trying to be cute.

I’ll have you know I’m extremely cute all the time.

Yeah, yeah. Should I bring dessert?

You don’t have to bring anything if you don’t want to.

I will strangle you the moment I see you, Peter.

Just say yes or no.

Maybe.

I hate you.

That’s not the proper way to treat your boyfriend :(

You could picture the glint in his eyes as he tried not to laugh.

You went along with it. I’m sorry, babe :(

I forgive you because I’m a nice boyfriend.

Won’t happen again. <3

Now let’s hope we can talk like that in person.

Are you daring me to sweet talk you in person?

Yes.

Your mom called your name. “Your dad asked you a question.”

You lifted your head. “Mmh?”

“No, no, continue texting,” he said sarcastically, “I have all day.”

You quickly typed TTYL and locked your phone. “Sorry.”

Your dad shook his head. “You and Harry always do this.”

“I wasn’t texting Harry,” you felt the need to explain. Harry didn’t deserve credit for this. “What did you want to ask?”

“I asked,” he remarked the word. “If you would be busy this weekend. Your sister won’t be.”

“I— uhmmm... I’m having dinner with Peter and his aunt on Saturday.” You saw your sister purse her lips beside you. “Did you need anything?”

“To spend time with my family.”

“I guess I can come over on Sunday or Saturday morning.”

“I was thinking about going out of town for the weekend,” he clarified.

“The three of you can go if you don’t want to wait another week,” you assured them. “I already told Peter I would have dinner with him and his aunt so I can’t cancel. I also have projects to do.”

════════════════════════

You rested your head on Gwen’s shoulder as both of you waited for Mary Jane in the cafeteria. They never made you feel like a third wheel even though they were dating so you never avoided spending time with them.

Mary Jane arrived accompanied by Peter. He looked extremely serious but he didn’t say anything as he stood across the table, staring at you like a child scared of saying what they had been up to. She elbowed him on the side before sitting down.

Peter got closer to you. “Can we talk?” he asked. “It’s important.”

You nodded, lifting your head off Gwen’s shoulder. As you stood up, you felt her hand squeeze yours which prompted you to turn and look at her.

She gave you a playful look that made you realize she wanted to know every detail once you were done. As your eyes crossed Mary Jane’s, you saw a similar sentiment in them.

“I’ll be right back,” you told them to pacify them.

He guided you to an empty area which wasn’t such an easy task. You ended up resting your shoulder against the wall, facing Peter while he looked around.

His eyes landed on you as he spoke in a hushed voice. “Can we start today?”

You mirrored his tone. “Fake dating?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay...”

“You don’t sound too sure.”

“Well, you’re changing the plan,” you explained. You hated changing plans, even more so when you weren’t sure you were the right person to execute them.

“I know. Just a day earlier, though.” He unashamedly pouted.

“Okay,” you said, this time sure. “Any particular reason?”

“There’s this freshman who thinks I flirt with her just because I’m nice to her and she’s creeping me out. I feel like she follows me around.”

You sighed. “She just has a crush on you, don’t be a baby.”

“Please?”

“I already said yes, you baby.”

“You kinda like calling me baby, don’t you?”

You playfully shoved him “You’re so annoying.” However, before he could leave to do whatever it was he did in his free periods, you grabbed him by the wrist. “Does Mary Jane know about your plan?”

“No. Why?”

“You arrived together.”

“Ah. No.” He shook his head. “I was looking for you and asked her if she had seen you.”

“Makes sense.”

“Yeah...”

You shifted on your feet. “So what now?”

“Do you have class next period?”

“Sadly.”

He chuckled. “I’ll walk you to class.”

“Wanna hang out with us for a little bit?”

“I gotta talk to Flash.”

You wiggled your eyebrows. “Gonna ask him out too?”

He rolled his eyes. “I’m never telling you who I find attractive ever again.”

“Good. Don’t wanna make your girlfriend jealous — do you, babe?”

Peter leaned over. His breath fanned on your face as he said, “Don’t worry, baby, I only have eyes for you.” He then kissed your cheek. “I’ll be right back. Wait for me with Gwen and Mary Jane.”

You nodded, hoping you didn’t look as stunted as you felt.

Both your friends stared at you, desperate to hear an explanation. You understood why, but you were still trying to come up with an excuse as to why you were so flustered over a kiss on the cheek.

You checked your phone, but there was nothing worthy of your attention.

Mary Jane spoke first, “What did Peter need?”

“We are a thing now.”

Gwen hummed. “But what did he need?”

“Permission to make it public.”

Mary Jane scratched her cheek. “Are you sure it’s a good idea?”

“You think he’d be a bad boyfriend?”

“I think you shouldn’t use him to make Harry notice you.”

That was harsh. Perhaps you deserved the reminder that Harry couldn’t care less about you, and perhaps you also deserved to feel bad for trying to use Peter against him — you would’ve preferred if the reminder didn’t come from your best friend.

“I’m not,” you partially lied. “I genuinely like Peter.”

True to his word, Peter walked you to class. You didn’t hold hands, it didn’t feel right, but he sweetly told you that he’d be waiting for you after your last class.

You saw Harry across the hallway, talking to Liz and one of her friends. For a second you thought he would walk towards you, the way he held your gaze had been almost cruel.

But he didn’t, he just gave you a nod and walked in the opposite direction, hand in hand with Liz.

You had better things to worry about. Your classes, your family’s expectations, helping Peter — reciprocal things to an extent. So why couldn’t you just get over the fact that Harry didn’t care about you?

Somebody poked you on the arm with their finger. Turning to the side, you found Flash who shot you a smile.

“What’s up?” you greeted him.

“We have a project to finish.”

You cursed under your breath. “Are you free on Sunday?”

“Nope.”

“Tomorrow?”

He tilted his head. “Yeah. I’ll drop by your place.”

“At what time?”

“Like 2 or 3 in the afternoon. Don’t wanna wake you up by mistake again.”

Peter laughed behind you, having caught that last part.

You ignored Peter. “I have something to do after 5. Why don’t you come over early? I promise I’ll be awake.”

Flash shared a look with Peter and then patted your shoulder. “Cool. See you tomorrow, sleeping beauty.”

Peter snickered, standing beside you now.

“Stop laughing.”

“I just can’t believe you’re that grumpy in the mornings.” He started walking towards the exit.

You walked beside him. “You don’t know the whole story.”

He opened the door for you and then followed your steps. “You can tell it tomorrow at dinner.”

Craning your neck go look at him, you asked, “You want your aunt to laugh at me?”

“I’ll defend you.”

You suddenly remembered that you didn’t know what you were supposed to do or say in front of his aunt. You had met her before, but that fact made this situation even more bizarre.

You tried to start with an easy question, “Should I wear a dress for tomorrow?”

“You can wear whatever you want,” he assured you.

Well, that wasn’t helpful at all.

════════════════════════

You checked the time on your phone and realized you had a message from Flash. He was on his way.

Looking around your bedroom, your eyes fell on the bed where a pile of clothes laid. The sight stressed you out, and even more the fact that you didn’t seem to be able to set your mind on an outfit.

You anxiously waited for Flash at the door, pulling it open the moment you were aware of his presence on the other side.

He lifted both eyebrows. You usually took your sweet time to answer the door.

“We sh—“

You interrupted him. “I need your help with something else first.”

Flash softly dropped the materials he had been carrying onto the couch as he gave you a skeptic look. “I’m not disposing of a body for you.”

You took him by the wrist, dragging him to your bedroom. It wasn’t an abnormal occurrence by any means, he honestly should have had expected it.

“God, not again.” He sighed as his eyes fell on the pairs of shoes scattered around the room.

“Come on, just tell me if I should wear that skirt.” You pointed at the black skirt on top of the mountain of clothing. “Or jeans.”

He opened his arms, unsure as to what to tell you as his hands stayed in an awkward angle.

“What would you want me to wear if I were meeting your family?” you encouraged him to help you.

He cocked his head, looking at you through his lashes. “A straight jacket.”

“Please take this seriously.”

Inhaling deeply, he set his eyes on the pile of clothes. “Is the skirt more comfortable than the jeans?”

“I’m not thinking about comfort.”

“Well, you should. You know May will make you squirm with her questions.”

“No skirt, then.”

“It’s just dinner,” Flash reminded you, “wear something casual.”

”Yeah,” you sighed, “just dinner.”

What an easy thing to say. You knew so few details that you might as well make a fool of yourself in front of May.

Flash ignored your semblance even though you knew he took note of it. He reached his hand into one of the bags he had been carrying then handed you a paper bag. “I brought breakfast.”

“Why didn’t you say so when you arrived?”

He glared at you. “Why don’t you get us something to drink instead?”

You ate breakfast sat on the living room floor while discussing your project. Flash wasn’t the most responsible person ever, but he was by far the best partner you ever had for a project.

However, his comment from earlier made you wonder something. Unable to hold it anymore, you asked, “How did you even know about the dinner?”

“Peter told me,” he answered simply.

“He did?”

“Why are you so shocked?”

You shrugged. “I thought we would wait a little bit longer.”

“Yeah, but it was bound to happen.”

“Don’t,” you warned him.

“Why not? I told you you’d end up having a crush on him.”

“Flaaaaaaaash!”

You hated to prove him right and although this was different, you wouldn’t lie and say Peter wasn’t attractive or crush material.

“Peter’s cool.”

“You don’t have to convince me, I’m already dating him.”

“I’m just pointing out that he’s an upgrade.”

There it was.

Flash took a dislike towards Harry when Harry started dating Liz which was normal because she was his ex, but it turned into vitriol really quickly.

Both Flash and Harry put Peter in an awkward situation the first few months. Now you didn’t know much about it — Harry complained about it with you at first, but he stopped.

“It’s different.”

“That’s the point, isn’t it?”

You frowned, looking into your half-empty cup of coffee.

“I can see through you.”

“Mary Jane told you her theory, didn’t she?”

“She thinks the same?” You nodded. He pensively hummed. “She didn’t tell me, to be honest. I’m only trying to look out for you and Peter.”

“I like him, I don’t know why you think I don’t.”

Flash didn’t spare you as he reminded you, “Because you said the same about your ex.”

“Yeah and look how that went!”

“(Name).”

“What?”

“Stop comparing guys you like to Harry and I promise you things will go well.”

He really could see right through you.

“I’ll stop. I promise.” Not knowing why, you added, “It’s not even that hard, Peter is... Peter. You know what I mean? Like how can you compare him to other people or other people to him?”

“Yeah, I get it.”

Oh no. “Do you like him?” you blurted.

Flash laughed softly. “Not in that way, no.”

“You sure? I don’t want things to be weird.”

“Peter might be handsome and cool,” he admitted, “but we wouldn’t work as a couple.”

“You think Peter and I would?” you incredulously asked.

“You will, yeah.”

You were truly nervous now. Not because of May’s potential questions or because you would have to lie — actually, you didn’t know where the nerves were coming from.

You just knew that Flash’s words resonated with you. He went from hating Peter to being his close friend which in your eyes meant he knew Peter better than anyone.

Did Flash know what Peter was hiding? Perhaps that was what he was alluding to when he assured you Peter and you would work as a couple.

The day went by extremely quickly. You weren’t mentally ready when Flash left or when you were on your way to Peter’s for that matter.

Peter was waiting for you in the lobby with hands in his pockets and shifty eyes.

“Is she like mad or something?” you asked instead of greeting him. You were ten minutes early so tardiness couldn’t be the issue.

He made a face, jerking his head as he gazed at you. He looked confused. “She’s just worried.”

What if she got angry at you when you hadn’t done anything? Peter told you to act normal, but normal you wasn’t madly in love with him.

As you approached the apartment, you found yourself thinking you were either going to ruin this or find out you deserved an academy award.

Peter opened the door and allowed you to come in first. May smiled at you before giving you a side hug in greeting.

“I brought dessert,” you told her as you parted from her.

“Oh, honey, you didn’t have to.”

Okay. Not angry yet.

She placed the dessert onto the table and motioned for you and Peter to sit.

Peter and you grabbed the chair at the same time. He opened his eyes wide, making you withdraw your hands immediately. He took the chair out for you.

Peter could be polite when he wanted, but you were getting worried. Since when did he treat the people he dated like this?

Nonetheless, you sat down.

May didn’t waste time and touched the subject pretty quickly. The moment she served dinner, she said, “I thought Peter was messing with me at first.”

“I wouldn’t do that,” he defended himself.

“Sure you wouldn’t,” she said sardonically.

“I thought he was messing with me when he asked me out, so I get it.”

Peter looked at you in shock and you unconsciously smiled at him.

May cooed. “I don’t understand why you two hid your relationship for months when you’re so cute together.”

“I didn’t want it to be awkward with our friends,” you quickly lied. “What if it didn’t work out or something?”

Your answer would have made sense if your relationship with Peter was real and that would be your strategy from now on. He couldn’t have a secret that would need you to lie that often.

May was so happy with your answers that the conversation deviated from you and Peter to everything but your love life.

You felt a little silly now, having expected the worst when Peter had already told you she was just worried.

He walked you to your car at the end of the night, something you guessed would become a common occurrence.

Things had gone well with May so you had no reason to think things wouldn’t go well with your friends.

You gnawed on the inside of your bottom lip. “Are things going to be awkward now?”

“Between us?”

You nodded. “I mean... saying shit is one thing, but you know...” God, you felt awkward already.

Peter frowned for a moment. “Give me your hand.”

Shifting on your feet, you asked, “You want your hand to be under mine or on top?”

“I don’t mind. You choose.”

You slid your arm under his, opening your palm but not touching him yet. He took the initiative and pressed his hand against yours.

“Is this okay?” he softly asked.

“Yes.”

He intertwined his fingers with yours, squeezing a little bit. You huffed a laugh.

“This too?”

You nodded.

“Well, that’s the only thing that’ll change between us. We already hug pretty often.”

Oh, Peter gave the best hugs. Although Gwen was a close second, you preferred his because he was always warm. He also smelled good, but you had to give it to Gwen and admit she did too.

“I’ll see you on Monday, then, boyfriend.”

“Drive safe, girlfriend.” Before you could say anything, he added, “Text me when you get home.” Yet he didn’t let go of your hand immediately.

════════════════════════

Harry didn’t take the news of your relationship with Peter that well. The moment he saw you holding hands, he made his way towards you.

Peter squeezed your hand, easing your nerves. He was there, nothing could go wrong with Peter there.

“Shouldn’t you be in class?” Harry drily asked you.

“In twenty minutes or so,” you softly answered.

“Well, can I talk to you?”

You turned to Peter, hoping he’d save you from an awkward conversation. Sure, you wanted a reaction from Harry, but not an angry one!

“It’s okay, baby.” Peter kissed your hair as he let go of your hand. “I’ll see you later.”

With a shaky sigh, you motioned Harry to lead the way.

He immediately asked, “Why Peter?”

You stuttered. “I... things just happened.”

“Did they have to happen with my other best friend?”

In a twisted way, they had to. But you couldn’t possibly tell him that. “You didn’t care when Gwen had a crush on him, why is this any different?”

His eyes sharpened. “It just is.”

Many things just were. That didn’t mean anything. You wished you had the courage to reply.

As always, you gave him the upper hand and allowed him to make another question. “It’s not serious, right?”

What were you supposed to say? The thing that’d make him angry or the thing that’d pacify him? How selfish of you to be thinking about making Harry jealous when Peter needed this to be believable.

“It’s too soon to know.”

Harry hummed, softly nodding. “I’ll walk you to your class.”

You frowned. He had never done something like that.

“You’re coming to my birthday party, right?”

You almost tripped as you answered, “I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

“Cool. I’ll see you there.”

Thirteen-year-old you was right when she thought boys were confusing, but Harry surely took the cake. You assumed he’d ask you to hang out more often given his reaction, but there he was telling you —on a Monday— that he’d see you on Saturday.

Harry’s attitude soured your entire morning. If classes were already unbearable, he made you want to skip each one of them. Your friends noticed, but nobody said anything.

What a horrible morning and what a horrible week it would be until his stupid birthday party rolled around and you’d have to see him show his girlfriend off.

Your friends decided to go to the coffee shop near campus after class and although you weren’t in the mood for socializing, you would rather suck it up than be by yourself.

Besides, coffee shops were always a good place to do homework and you had quite a few projects accumulated.

Peter rested his head on your shoulder in the same way you always rested yours on Gwen’s. You threw your arm around his shoulders as you rested your eyes.

“Are you getting sleepy?” you whispered in case he was.

“No,” he mumbled. “But I don’t wanna move.”

“I have to pick up my sister from the mall in a couple of hours so you’ll have to.”

He whined.

“Who would’ve thought Peter would be a clingy boyfriend,” Gwen teased.

“Literally anybody who has ever seen him drunk,” Flash continued teasing him.

Peter was red. He shifted, trying to hide his face on your shoulder.

In all honesty, you didn’t mind if he was clingy or not. You had been told you were a little too effusive when it came to affection so you had a soft spot for people who were similar in any way.

You withdrew your arm from his shoulders in order to continue typing on your computer.

Peter went back to his previous position, facing your computer too. “You made a typo,” he told you. “Third line on the second paragraph.”

Mary Jane arrived late and she seemed to be in a bad mood so Gwen made up an excuse in front of your friend group as though she knew something you didn’t —she probably did— and took her home.

Looking at the time, you realized it was time for you to get going too so you started to put your things away.

‘I’m leaving with Flash,” Peter reminded you. “Text me or call me if you need me. I might not answer quickly because we’ll be playing video games but just try for a second time, okay?”

“Okay.”

He kissed your forehead. ”Drive carefully.”

You hummed. “Have fun, Pete.”

“You too, baby.”

Your mom didn’t give you many details when she asked you to pick your sister up. You didn’t even know with which friends she was hanging out with or why they were at the mall on a Monday and not somewhere more fun.

There you were, judging her like you hadn’t followed Harry like a puppy when you were her age.

She texted you that she was on her way to the entrance you were waiting at, telling you she had been all the way across.

It was probably a lie, but you’d let it slide.

Your sister tugged the door open and got into the car in silence, putting her cellphone away as she got comfortable.

“Did you have fun?”

She nodded and smiled at you.

You snickered and poked her cheek. “You have dried lipgloss all over your mouth.”

Your sister bashfully looked down.

You handed her a tissue. “Hey, it’s okay. There’s nothing to be ashamed about.”

She stayed silent for a small moment before worriedly asking, “Are you telling mom and dad?”

“No. But I’d like to know who it was.”

She whined. “Do I really have to tell you?”

You tried to put yourself in her shoes. You didn’t know how embarrassing it would have been for you to talk about your first kiss —or kisses— with a family member because nobody really cared when you started dating classmates.

But it didn’t sound fun so instead, you asked, “Are they your age?”

“Yup ”

“You promise?”

Realizing the question was serious, she nodded for emphasis. “Yes.”

“Cool. That’s all that matters.”

Your dad was home so you were forced to stay for dinner which again, was better than being on your own.

You couldn’t wait to either get together with Harry or over him. As things were going, you could only admit it would be the latter.

“Did your friend have a good birthday?”

Your sister looked at you before answering. “Yeah, we saw a movie.”

“What was the movie about?”

Your dad really tried to get along with both of you, you had to give him that. He was bad at it most of the time, but he tried.

Your phone started ringing. As you stared at the screen, you frowned. Unknown numbers rarely called you.

Hesitant, you answered, “Hello?”

“Hi, (Name),” May tried to speak sweetly. The moment you heard her voice, you stood up from your seat on the couch and left the living room. “Peter isn’t answering his phone, can you put him on the line for me?”

You walked into the adjacent studio, weirded out by her request. “He told you he’d be with me?”

“Isn’t he?”

“He is,” you said hurriedly, “I was just curious.”

“Can I talk to him now?” May laughed nervously.

“He went out to buy food and left his phone here. I’ll tell him to call you as soon as he’s back.”

“Thank you.”

You texted him multiple times as soon as May hung up.

May called. Where are you?

She sounded worried.

I had to lie and say you had gone out to buy food and forgot your phone in case she asks.

Hey.

Pete?

Dude, you’re scaring me.

PETER

Come on

Istg I will lose my shit if you’re messing with me

It’s not funny

You made your way towards the bathroom, needing to splash some water onto your face or something. Anything.

He couldn’t be so immersed in a video game as to not answer multiple calls or texts.

Why would Peter tell May he was with you when he could easily tell her he was with Flash? Was he not at Flash’s anymore?

Perhaps Flash would reply!

You texted him and called him dozens of times before giving up. You didn’t want to think the worst, maybe they were out buying something, but they could be in danger too.

Your hands started shaking pretty quickly when the idea of something happening to him overpowered your thoughts.

You needed to get out of that bathroom and back to the living room where a distraction could meet your anxiety before you went crazy.

So you splashed your face and bolted.

Back in the living room, you caught pieces of your dad’s conversation with your sister. He was boring her with business talk.

You had been in her place many times, and although his tone was more lighthearted with her because the expectations to follow in his footsteps were on you, it was clear he was trying to get her interested in things she didn’t even understand.

Your phone dinged. You immediately looked down.

Pete❤️: I’m okay

What the fuck, Peter?

Where were you?

Busy, sorry.

Did you call May?

Yeah.

Ok.

You didn’t know what else to say. ‘I had a shitty day and you almost gave me a panic attack’ didn’t sound appropriate. It would be truthful, but you couldn’t do that to him.

Where are you?

At my parents’.

He didn’t reply anymore so you locked the device and rested your head on the arm of the couch.

What a fucking day. If your week would be half as exhausting, you were ready to give up on the entire month in advance.

Remembering you were meant to ask if Mary Jane was okay, you unlocked your cellphone again.

As you finished typing your message to Gwen, one from Peter came through.

Can you come out for a few minutes?

Yeah. Give me a moment.

You took a deep breath, fixing your outfit as you slipped your phone into your pocket. You rounded the couch as you attempted to take the path towards the front door.

“Where are you going?” your sister asked.

“Outside. I need to give something to Peter.”

“Don’t take too long,” your dad told you.

You said a meek yes as if you were going to listen to him when you needed to inspect Peter from head to toe just to make sure he was truly okay.

You couldn’t bring yourself to speak as Peter slowly approached you. To his credit, he looked fine so he hadn’t lied.

He spoke first, as he should have, “Please don’t be mad at me.”

“I’m not mad,” you mumbled.

He gave you a look.

Clearing your throat, you opened your arms only to slap your hands against your thighs in defeat. “You had me worried sick.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to.”

“Are you going to tell me where were you?”

“I can’t.”

You scoffed. “So I have to cover for you without even knowing what the hell I’m covering?”

He whispered your name, placing his hand on your cheek as he tried to make you look at him.

You closed your eyes. “I don’t mind lying for you,” you softly said, meaning it like you had never meant anything else in your entire life. “But don’t I deserve to know why I’m lying?”

He brought you onto his chest, holding you tight against him. “You do deserve to know,” he admitted. “And I’ll tell you everything, but not tonight.”

You were scared to ask why.

════════════════════════

Peter draped his arm over your shoulder, holding you close to him as the two of you stood with your group of friends.

You hadn’t been in that place in a long time but still remembered where every room was. You also knew in which one Harry would fuck Liz at the end of the night.

You took a sip of alcohol. It didn’t taste like much — a bad sign.

Your eyes fell on the beer pong table. A guy you didn’t recognize and Harry were playing against Mary Jane and Flash. That was a bad sign too.

“I’m gonna refill my cup,” you whispered in Peter’s ear, “do you want me to refill yours?”

He shook his head. “I’ve still got plenty.”

It took you a moment to move and he didn’t make a sign to having found it weird.

The kitchen was quieter, not by much but the change was nice. Something you had always disliked about Harry was his taste in music.

You crashed against a thin body.

Liz took you by the waist and you awkwardly placed your hand on her hip, each of you steadying the other. “Sorry,” both of you apologized at the same time.

“I was distracted,” you insisted.

She took her hands off you and you did the same. Liz extended her hand so she could refill your cup for you.

“I’m glad you’re here,” she said as she refilled your cup. “Harry thought you wouldn’t come.”

“Why?”

She shrugged. “You know how he is.”

You didn’t. Not anymore. You took your cup from her, thanking her before bringing it to your lips.

“Well, we’re all here,” you said in pretended optimism. “And we’re all having fun.”

She smiled, looking as pretty as ever. “Damn right we are!”

You went back to Peter while Liz took off to talk to some of her friends. Once again, he threw his arm over your shoulders, hand almost brushing your chest as it dangled.

Mary Jane was back, bored of playing. Flash asked Peter to team up with him. Peter removed his arm from you, telling you he’d be back.

You focused on Peter as he rolled his sleeves on his way to the table.

Feeling something move in your pocket, you took your cellphone out. Your dad was calling.

“I need to take this call,” you told your friends.

The air was cold in comparison to the inside of the house. You let your dad call again and answered the phone, already expecting some kind of bad news.

To his credit, he sounded disappointed while telling you the plans the family had made for the next day were cancelled. He said your mom was upset.

As a child you often heard excuses for his absence. He was busy, his success depended on sacrifices, he tried his best so you and your sister could have everything you wanted.

Harry always told you to be grateful that you had loving parents. You weren’t sure you had the same definition of love.

You still assured your dad you weren’t angry and promised to spend the day with your mom and sister. His silence as an answer to your offer was a reminder that he didn’t believe you were capable of fixing meaningful problems.

You didn’t show how much it hurt you, there was no point. He meant well, your mom and sister did too.

Leaving the party sounded appealing, but your friends didn’t deserve it. You sucked it up and went back to the house.

Peter and Flash were bumping fists when you approached the area. They had won the game.

You went directly to the couch, not in the mood for dancing. Peter walked towards you, fixing his hair.

Sitting down, he twisted his upper body. “Is everything okay?”

“My dad just cancelled tomorrow’s family plans and said mom’s kinda upset.”

“I’m not surprised.”

“Neither am I.” You changed the subject, “I’m surprised you won that game, though.”

“You don’t have faith in me?”

You swiped your tongue across your bottom lip. “I never said that. But you have to admit you’ve never been one for taking part in games. Last time I saw you play something, you got your ass handed to you by Flash.” Twisting your mouth, you tilted your head. He looked down. “You’ve never played sports, right?”

He didn’t answer.

You insisted, “Right?”

He hummed, nodding at the same time as though it made any sense.

“Were you even listening?”

“No,” he quickly admitted. “Can I kiss you?”

Oh. He had been looking down at your mouth.

He caught you off guard. You couldn’t say no, though, you didn’t want to say no. “Yes,” you answered him.

He started slow and sweet, with his hand on your cheek as the other rested on his lap. You didn’t know what to do with your hands, so you just closed your eyes and kissed him back, following his rhythm.

He slowly build the kiss up, sucking your bottom lip between his. Gripping the front of his sweatshirt, you boldly bit down his bottom lip in return.

Peter wrapped his free arm around you then he brought you closer, flush against him. His tongue tried to pry your mouth open in the exact moment you were about to do the same. Your tongues clashed together and instead of turning it all awkward, it only prompted you to grab him by the hair.

Peter hummed on your mouth and continued kissing you. Now he had both hands on your body, holding you tightly by the waist.

Maybe you could take him to another room, maybe you could feel his hands on you without the burden of your clothes.

His vice grip on you made you feel like floating and you suddenly wondered why you hadn’t made out with Peter before. It didn’t have to be anything serious, it didn’t have to go past messing around.

He was attractive, so were you. Why hadn’t you seen it before? Why had you denied yourself this when he was so good at kissing and his touch was so rough you were sure he would leave marks? And you wanted him to do it, you wanted him to let himself loose on you.

Fuck, you were getting horny over your fake boyfriend.

And as if he knew exactly what was going on inside your hazy mind, he attached his lips to your neck. It was over, you were done — it would be a failure if you didn’t manage to take him to a private room or back to your apartment.

Resting a hand on his thigh as you pushed yourself over, you felt the vibration of his throat as he whimpered while you kissed him.

Something buzzed under your hand, prompting both of you to part. Panting, you stared at each other for a moment. His hair was a mess and he had never looked prettier.

He withdrew a hand from your body to take his cellphone out. You knew the mood had completely been killed when he sighed and locked the device.

“I need to do something,” he announced as he stood up. “I’ll be back.”

What? You didn’t have a chance to react, he just left you there, hot and bothered.

════════════════════════

You padded your way toward the kitchen for the second time since you had gone to bed. Sleep wasn’t necessarily elusive that night, but you found yourself waking up every hour.

Turning the lights on, you looked at the time. Almost 4:00 am. You filled a glass with water and slowly drank it.

You knew the tough day you had with your family was still doing a number on you even though you had left early, you also knew you should have been used to it by now.

Tapping against glass took you out of your mind, bringing you goosebumps. As the sound continued, you realized it was coming from the living room.

You considered going back to your room and locking yourself up which sounded safer, but curiosity overpowered logic.

A figure loomed over the windowpane. You wondered if your mind was tricking you — you lived in the fifth floor.

The figure became clearer as you got closer to the window. You let out a relieved sigh. Spider-Man waved. You tilted your head — why would Spider-Man want to visit you?

Maybe he was hurt and needed help.

You opened the window. “Can I help you?”

He nodded upward, letting you know he needed to come in. You let him, moving to the side.

He took the liberty to close the window once he was inside. You stood before him, assuming he would verbally tell you what he needed.

He wasn’t hurt from what you could see. He walked just fine, his breath wasn’t ragged... You were more confused now.

Reaching to the back of his head, Spider-Man took the mask off. Brown eyes bore into yours.

“You wanted to know what I was hiding...” Peter trailed off.

“You’re joking.”

He stepped closer to you. “I’m not.”

He had to. His sense of humor wouldn’t match a joke like this, but he had to.

The suit didn’t look like a cheap costume, but there had to be another explanation. Yes, it made sense — every time he disappeared out of nowhere and worried you sick, those days he sported black eyes or cuts on his face... but you didn’t want this to be the truth.

You dragged your finger down his arm to feel the texture of the suit.

Peter took a deep breath.

“Sorry,” you mumbled.

“It’s okay, baby,” he huskily said. When he got no answer, Peter added, “Sorry, I didn’t mean to call you baby.”

You inhaled deeply. “I get it, you’re getting used to it.”

He hummed, eyes on you as he sighed.

You placed your hand on his bicep. “Are you okay, Pete? I’m not going to tell anybody if that’s what worries you.”

His hands found their place on your waist. You leaned closer, seeking his warmth. Peter opened his mouth to say something, then decided against it.

He leaned in and kissed you, tentative as he gave you time to push him off you. But you didn’t, why would you?

You ran your hand through his hair as you kissed him back, already familiar with the shape of his lips and the warmth of his mouth.

He pushed you onto the wall as he shoved his tongue inside your mouth. His kiss became sloppy while his hands started wandering down.

He gripped your thighs, bringing your legs up so you’d wrap them around his waist. Both of you ground against the other, sloppily kissing. You could hear the sound your mouths were making and feel his hot breath on your face.

He was driving you crazy.

Peter didn’t stop there. Giving you room to breathe, he lowered his mouth to your neck where he took his time to find your sweet spot.

You felt his fingers up your thigh, where he played with the edge of your sleeping shorts.

He kissed, sucked, and licked his way up to your ear. “Is this okay?”

You hummed against his mouth before kissing him again pawing at his suit, desperate to feel his skin under your fingertips. Frustrated, you broke the kiss. “How do you even take this thing off?”

He chuckled and gave you another kiss. “I’ll teach you.”

“Are you gonna strip for me?” you joked. Why were you making jokes right now?

Peter tilted his head. “Is that what you want?”

The idea wasn’t bad at all, yet you answered truthfully, “I just want to touch you.”

He didn’t deny you anything that morning. You couldn’t remember the last time you enjoyed yourself that much with a sexual partner.

You didn’t leave an inch of his body untouched, relishing in his reactions. He wasn’t ashamed to tell you if he liked something, or to ask you to touch him firmly.

Peter didn’t hold back either. All he wanted was you and you weren’t complaining. He gripped you tightly and sucked on your skin as much as he was able to.

There would be bruises on you by the next day, and there would be scratches on him if his powers didn’t heal him quickly.

You liked this side of him, the side that fucked you into the mattress and groaned above you. He wasn’t scared of breaking you or hurting you — for a moment you wondered how it would feel if he did it.

He came on your belly then cleaned you up afterwards which was more than appreciated. You weren’t even sure you could speak properly when he asked if you needed water.

He brought you a glass either way, of course he did.

The sun was up when you were done, too tired to move and too spent to complain. Peter was back on the bed, warm body pressed against yours.

“I didn’t hurt you, did I?”

“No,” you tiredly answered. “I’m good.”

He held you tighter, laying his head on your chest.

You lazily dragged your fingers down his spine. “Is everything okay?”

“It was a long night,” he told you in a low voice.

You chose to believe he had visited because he thought you could provide him comfort, and you also decided that you always could — that you were okay with doing so. Even if most things about your relationship were fake, this one didn’t have to be.

════════════════════════

Peter and you never talked about it, and although you would have liked to hear the reasons behind his actions that night, you didn’t need to because it continued happening.

Having sex made pretending easier. He always had an arm around you or a hand on your body around your friends and by now you not only were used to his touch but sought it.

You often woke up next to him, sometimes clothed and sometimes naked. He always woke up before you, but he never left immediately. You wanted to know why.

Flash had been right to assume you’d develop a crush on Peter and now you had a sinking feeling that it wasn’t just a crush anymore.

You worried about him and wanted to be around him every second of every day, you liked hearing him tell you about his classes and his day — you liked that he always asked about yours, that he was willing to drop things for you because you would drop everything to be there for him.

Covering for him became a reflex. You had an inkling that May knew you were lying sometimes, but she never said anything according to Peter.

Your friends were happy with the development of your relationship which would have been lovely if this was real. But now you worried that the supposed breakup would disrupt your friend group.

It was hard not to think about it. The day would surely come and you’d be by yourself most of the time again. As if that was the only problem.

And problems continued rolling onto you. The last person you expected to see was at your door.

Harry gave you a smoldering look as you stood speechless. “Are you letting me in?”

You did.

He sat down on the couch, making himself at home even though he had barely visited your apartment.

“I thought you were sick,” he said in reference to the fact that you cancelled plans with your friends the day before.

“I was busy.”

Disgust contorted his face as his eyes fell on your neck. “Busy fucking my best friend?”

You flinched at his tone.

“I should’ve known you were only spending time with him because you wanted to get him into your bed.”

He said it as though you were the type of person to fuck anybody you met, as though you hadn’t rejected people because they weren’t him specifically.

“Believe it or not,” you coldly lied, “I started dating him months and not days before your birthday. You would’ve known about it if you talked to me.”

“Rubbing it on my face, aren’t you? Do you know how embarrassing it was to hear you were making out with him at my house after I told my friends multiple times that you were off limits?” He was seething, expelling droplets of saliva as he reproached you.

“Why would you do that in the first place? You knew I’d end up dating somebody who goes to the same school as us.”

“Why would you go for my best friend specifically? Don’t you care about my relationship with him?”

“Is this what our friendship has come to be? A reproaching fest?”

“You’re the one who crossed the line.”

“Harry, you didn’t have a problem when half our friend group drooled over him!”

“Because that’s different. I know Peter, he’s not right for you.”

You incredulously scoffed. “Funny how you’re the only one who says that.”

“I’ve never been wrong about the guys you’ve dated.”

Well, you couldn’t argue against that. But Flash was right, those guys hadn’t been the problem — the fact that you compared them to Harry was.

“Let time prove either of us right.”

“I don’t think I can.”

“What?”

“You promised nobody would ever be more important than me.”

You both promised a lot of things as kids... that you would never bring dates to an event you could attend together, that you would attend the same college, that you would be part of the same friend group your entire lives, that you would tell each other everything...

“I’m not saying Pete is more important than you, I’m j—“

“Break up with him, then.”

“You’re making it sound like I have to choose between you and him.”

“Because you have to.” When he didn’t get an answer, he added. “I’ll give you time to think it through.”

You wanted to do anything but think. You wanted to have your best friend back — you didn’t care if he was jealous anymore, you never should have. You weren’t Liz, it was okay, he liked her and you liked somebody else.

“Harry, come on...”

But Harry walked himself out and forced your words to die in your throat.

You never thought he would be as angry as you wanted him to be. You got your anger and your jealousy and your dilemma. He had it all clear, you were the idiot who had to get into this mess.

A shower and a portion of your comfort food later, you decided that you couldn’t be inside your head right now and left your apartment.

It was drizzling. Such a perfect weather to be inside doing everything or nothing alike.

You loved being by yourself at your place. The plan for the day had been just that. But as always, Harry made you change them.

Chastising yourself for forgetting your phone at home, you knocked on the door in front of you.

The door opened and you were greeted with a smile.

You wished you could’ve smiled back. “Hi, May, is Peter home?”

She motioned for you to come in. “He’s in his room. Do you want something to drink?”

“Not now, thank you.”

You knocked on his door, hoping he would answer before May could tell something was wrong with you.

Peter yelled for you to come in. You were an idiot, he probably had heard you talking to his aunt.

Pushing the door open, you stuck your head in. “It’s me,” you softly said just to make sure you had his permission to come in.

“Come in, baby.”

God, not that pet name. Not now.

You closed the door behind you before facing him. He was sat at his desk, writing something down on a notebook as he looked at the computer screen.

Approaching him, you leaned in to see what he was doing. You didn’t understand much of it, science was his thing.

He rotated the chair to face you. “What’s up? You didn’t text me...”

“Forgot my phone at home.”

Peter frowned and dropped his pen on top of the notebook before standing up to move towards his bed. “Are you alright?”

Did you look that bad? You weren’t wearing makeup, but he had seen your bare face plenty of times to be weirded out.

“Can I have a hug?”

Now sat on the bed, Peter opened his arms and legs so you’d make yourself at home between them.

And you did. You hugged yourself to him as tightly as you could, afraid he would let go at any moment.

He didn’t let go, you should have known he wouldn’t — your mind was playing tricks with you, that was it.

“What happened? Why are you upset?”

You didn’t have the heart to tell him. Not yet, not when you were scared he would cut you off from his life just because Harry thought it was for the best.

“Had a long day yesterday and didn’t want to be alone today,” you mumbled.

“Why don’t we watch a movie?” he offered. “I’ll let you pick which one we watch while I go get some snacks.”

You whined. “I don’t wanna move.”

“It’s just like ten minutes. We’ll cuddle the entire runtime.”

“You promise?”

He kissed your forehead. “I promise.”

It amazed you how easy it was to trust him, to like him, to want to be with him no matter the moment or the activity.

It took you longer to pick a movie than it took him to come back. You didn’t want any snacks, but you still took them because you didn’t want him to worry too much.

You would worry on your own later.

Peter hugged you from behind, resting his chin on your shoulder. His hands rested on your belly as he watched the movie, giving you butterflies every time he laughed against your skin.

How were you supposed to give this up when it felt so good?

════════════════════════

Mary Jane sat across from you, playing with the glass between her hands. She was listening to you, but by the way she was tapping her fingers against the glass, she was dying to interrupt.

You went on and on because you still couldn’t believe Harry would make you choose between him and somebody else. It didn’t even make sense when he had thrown you and Peter to the side when he started dating Liz.

When her time came, Mary Jane spoke, “You shouldn’t care about what Harry says.”

“I care more about the fact that I ran to Peter like a fucking idiot.”

“He’s your boyfriend.”

You knew she was trying to be the voice of reason, but no, he wasn’t. That made it worse. “But doesn’t it make it look like I already chose?”

“Kinda,” she conceded. “But that’s not a bad thing necessarily.”

“Harry and I grew up together.”

“And Peter fucks you stupid. They have different roles in your life.”

You remained silent. Your cup was already empty and you didn’t need more caffeine. In fact, a soothing tea would have been a better choice — you needed to drive after this once your sister was done with her friends.

“Do you still like Harry or something? I will kill you if you say yes.”

You got that from her tone, she didn’t have to tell you. “I don’t know.”

“But you like Peter more... Right?”

“Yeah, I do.” Maybe liking was selling it short at this point.

Peter didn’t make you choose, and if anything between you were real he wouldn’t make you choose either. You were so sure that you would’ve bet your own life on it.

That fact was a problem. Why couldn’t Harry be like Peter?

“Maybe I need another opinion,” you mused out loud.

“Gwen will tell you the same.”

“What about Flash? Maybe if he had all the details...”

“Flash will try to convince you to kill Harry in his sleep.”

“You think so?” Of course he would, but you were desperate.

“He’s team Peter all the way. Honestly, I would think they have something going on if Peter wasn’t so into you.”

You avoided looking at her. “What should I do?”

“What do you want?”

“Just... I don’t know. About what? From what?”

“Do you want to choose?”

“No.”

“You could choose neither of them.”

“But—“ You shook your head.

“No, say it.”

“I can’t.”

Mary Jane wouldn’t pressure you to talk, she wasn’t that kind of person.

“At least tell Peter about it before Harry does,” she advised.

“I’ll tell him once I’m done here.”

It was late when your sister met you at your table. Mary Jane had left two hours earlier and you had even entertained yourself looking around a few stores and come back.

You drove in silence, allowing her to talk if she wanted to. Maybe asking something would’ve been better, but you didn’t have the energy to find out who your sister was dating or why she had decided to hide it.

Enough was already on your plate, and you needed to trust her, unlike your parents.

Stopping the car, you waited for her to get inside. Your mom hurried outside the moment she opened the door and walked towards your car.

She made you a sign with her hand, asking you to roll the window down.

With a sigh, you indulged her.

“Dinner tomorrow,” she drily told you. “You should bring Peter, I think it’s time your dad meets him.”

“Mom, I’m not marrying him or something like that.”

“I don’t care. Bring him.”

Great. Another fucking problem you had to deal with now. Your dad had always been clear on the type of person he wanted for you and Peter was not it. A shame, really.

“I’ll ask if he isn’t busy,” you compromised.

She looked happy with that. Your mom wished you a good night and turned around. You watched her get inside the house, wondering if she truly wanted you there the next day or not. You never knew with her.

You didn’t get to talk to Peter that night. Instead of telling him you wanted to see him so you could talk in person, you told him your parents wanted to have dinner with him.

Peter said yes immediately and asked about the dress code. God, you didn’t even want to think about clothes.

And with good reason — it wasn’t fair that everything suited him. There was no color or style Peter couldn’t pull off.

But it was probably for the best, he’d make a good impression that way.

You wanted your dad to like him and your sister to trust him and your mom to laugh at his lame jokes. You wanted them to see the person you desperately wanted to be in your life until your last day alive.

Truthfully, you didn’t care if he had feelings for you like you did for him. You enjoyed being around him, his friendship was enough.

The surprise the two of you got when Norman and Harry stood up to greet you was extremely hard to hide.

Norman gave you and Peter a warm smile. “I told Harry to bring his girlfriend, but he didn’t listen to me.”

You shifted on your feet, using Peter as leverage to ground yourself by squeezing his fingers between yours.

Your mom smiled tightly. “Next time it will be.”

Much like Flash did with you, Norman talked wonders about Peter to your parents.

You avoided looking at Harry with the pretense of being polite by gazing at whoever was speaking. Such gesture didn’t sit well with him and he showed it by standing up and walking towards you.

Harry inhaled deeply. “Can we talk in private?”

Unconsciously, you turned to look at Peter. He patted your thigh in encouragement.

“Sure,” you feigned enthusiasm.

You walked across the house in silence, wishing he would tell you to forget about what he said before.

Harry stared at you as you looked around the backyard. Not only were you avoiding speaking first, but you were confused as to when the lighting fixtures had been changed.

The spot you were awkwardly standing at had witnessed many secrets being exchanged between you. Perhaps it would be witness and accomplice of your fallout too.

“So you’ve made your choice.”

“Harry...”

His furious eyes bored into yours. “Why the fuck did you bring him?”

“I wanted to,” you confessed. “Mom told me I should and I agreed.”

“We never bring dates tho dinners like these. We promised,” he reminded you.

“He’s not just a date, this is different.”

“I didn’t invite Liz because I keep my promises.”

“You didn’t invite Liz because you didn’t want to.” You hated that he couldn’t own up to his mistakes with her when he loved her so much. “Stop holding a stupid promise I made when I was six against me.”

“You wouldn’t have liked it if I brought her here while you were single.”

“You stopped talking to me the moment you started dating her. I would’ve expected it.”

“So you went and tricked my best friend into a relationship.”

Was that he thought about you? That you manipulated or forced people to be around you?

“Your best friend? You barely talk to him anymore, Harry. And don’t you dare tell me it’s Liz’s fault.”

He ignored your first comment. “Now I will get in trouble with her for not taking her here if she sees pictures.”

“Call her and tell her the truth. Or blame me, I don’t care.”

“It is your fault,” he bitingly said, “you brought him to something special for us.”

“I didn’t even know you’d be here! And honestly, you should be happy for me.”

“I would be if he wasn’t my best friend.”

“Again with that...” You sighed, hoping you could find the right words. “I don’t want to choose, Harry, and it fucking hurts that you from all people are putting me in this situation God knows why.”

“I’ve told you before, it’s because Peter is—“

You interrupted him, “Peter being your best friend doesn’t matter, he’s not going to drop you like you dropped us.”

“I know I dropped you for a while, but Liz needed my attention.”

You didn’t blame him for focusing more on her, or for wanting to spend most of his time with her, but you knew for a fact that Liz made time for her friends; Harry could’ve done the same.

You started tearing up There was the problem, Harry couldn’t make time for you or Peter or Gwen even when he was free.

Harry stammered, but not a single word came out of his mouth after that. It only made you cry harder. Did he not care even a little bit?

“I’ll give you a moment alone,” he finally mumbled.

You walked further down the backyard, cursing yourself for crying and for wearing uncomfortable shoes. You were supposed to look pretty and taller, not to ruin your makeup and walk around furniture and plants.

You sat on the couch before deciding to lay down on your side. You used to do that when you were a kid too. You’d wait for the pool to be ready in that position and you would lay on your back when you wanted your mom to ask if something was wrong.

Right now, you weren’t sure what you wanted. You definitely didn’t want to talk to whoever the approaching steps belonged to.

You still looked up as a figure stood before you.

Peter crouched down and reached over to wipe your tears. The gesture made more tears come out.

“It’s okay,” he whispered, placing a hand on your waist and slipping his other hand to your back to make you sit up. He sat down beside you. “Come here.”

Peter brought you closer, making you rest your head on his shoulder.

“I don’t understand why he’s making me choose between you and him,” you lamented.

“He is?”

Fuck. You had assumed Harry had told him and that was why he was there. “I didn’t know how to tell you...”

Humming, he rubbed your arm up and down. “You can tell him the truth if you want.”

You lifted your head off his shoulder, searching for his eyes. He didn’t seem to mean it in a bad way. You shook your head.

“Are you sure? I can tell him if you want.”

“It would be pointless.”

“I don’t like seeing you cry.”

“We should change the subject then.”

“I didn’t mean it that way. I just...” Peter pursed his lips, second-guessing his next words. “It pains me to see you upset.”

“Peter,” you pleaded, “don’t do this to me.”

“Don’t do what?”

“You’re making everything more difficult than it already was.”

He slanted his head, taken aback. “Because I care about you?”

“Because I think I’m in love with you.”

Peter blinked rapidly before his eyes started dancing all over your face as though he was waiting for you to say something else.

But you didn’t have much to say anymore. All your cards were on the table. Although you had to admit his lack of response would drive you insane if he continued looking at you like that.

“You don’t have to say anything,” you lied. “I’m okay with being just friends. I just thought you should know.”

“No, no, no.” He shook his head, taking himself out of his self-absorption. “I feel the same, I promise! But... I don’t want to ruin your friendship with Harry.”

“So you’re making me choose too?”

“No. I just don’t want you to regret being in a real relationship with me because you lost your best friend.”

“It wouldn’t be your fault.”

“Yeah, you’re right...” Peter looked up at the sky and huffed a laugh.

You mirrored his movement. The sky was clear, allowing you the privilege to gaze at the stars.

“Remember that night I walked you to your place and we stopped in the middle of the street to look at the stars?”

You giggled. You had been on the verge of crying that night after Harry ditched you for Liz if it hadn’t been because Gwen distracted you. “Yeah, I remember.”

“Should I have kissed you that night?”

You weren’t sure, it was hard to know if you would’ve kissed back or not. You wanted to believe you wouldn’t have, but who knew. “Does it matter?”

“No.” Peter twisted his body and cupped your cheek so you’d look at him. You softly smiled at him and he gave you a small kiss. “Not anymore.”

[invisibleanonymousmonsters]

In Times Past

Character: Bruce Wayne x Fem!Reader

Summary: Bruce Wayne’s life doesn’t exist beyond the fake storylines he performs for the media and citizens of Gotham. Maybe the only person that can change that is someone who knew him before Batman ever even existed. 

Word Count: 8,200+ [One Shot]

Warnings: Violence, mentions of sexual harrassment

A/N: As I teased before, this was inspired by this scene from Batman Begins. 

Bruce could sense Alfred’s tension when he walked into the kitchen that morning. The man was not one to hold back his thoughts and feelings. It was both a blessing and a curse. But Bruce sensed it was the latter today.

Before Bruce could even get a sip of coffee in, Alfred tossed the Sunday newspaper in front of him.

On the front page was a photo of Batman, far too high of a resolution for Bruce’s liking. ‘BATMAN: SAVIOR OR MENACE?’ the headline read.

“A little too close for comfort, don’t you think?” Alfred asked with a hint of sass.

However, Bruce controlled his reaction.

“Not the first time I’ve been photographed, Alfred.”

“You’re dancing with the devil, Master Wayne.”

“So, what? You want me to lay down the cape because everyone in America has the ability to take a photo on their cellphone?”

“Of course not,” Alfred retorted. Though Alfred secretly wished every day that Bruce would say goodbye to the Batman. “I just thought perhaps you should be putting a bit more effort into Bruce Wayne’s life if you really want to throw Gotham off your trail.”

Then he tossed another newspaper. This one of Bruce Wayne, the other mask he wore.

‘Bruce Wayne Lights Up the Room at Charity Ball.’

Alfred points to the date…it was 9 months ago. And it was unfortunately the last time Bruce Wayne was in the press.

“You better start creating alibis, Master Wayne, or the dark web will start to putting two and two together…”

Bruce sighed. He knew Alfred was right. But he hated all that went with what he had to do. He’d rather face off with Gotham’s deadliest criminals than go galavanting around the city as the self-absorbed and reckless playboy persona that he’d created.

“There is a birthday party for Eaton Elliot next weekend. Naturally, being old family friends, you received an invitation,” Alfred explained. “Plenty of press will be there to note your attendance. Seems rather convenient."

Bruce recognized the name. It was the older brother of Thomas Elliot, a childhood friend that he slightly lost touch with. He’d see him or his parents at various events, and things were always cordial.

But it didn’t really matter how absent or quiet Bruce was when it came to maintaining such relationships. Everyone forgave such behavior when it came to saving face with the only living member of the Wayne family. Bruce could spit in the faces of Gotham’s elite and they’d probably thank him for it.

“Black tie affair, as always,” Alfred added as he slipped the invitation to Bruce. “Perhaps you could bring a date…”

Bruce glared up at the butler. “Dates make it harder to make a quick and quiet exit, Alfred.”

“Well, maybe that’s the point, Master Wayne.”

————

Just like he was on patrol or working on an op, Bruce had prepared for every single scenario. He made a plan that would be the most effective in the shortest amount of time. He didn’t want to torture himself any longer than absolutely necessary.

When Alfred asked him again if he was planning on bringing a date, Bruce had only replied with a mischievous smirk.

Because he walked in with a girl on each arm.

It wasn’t the classy or gentlemanly thing to do. And that was exactly the point.

Conversations paused, attention was turned, and flashes went off.

Bruce Wayne made his entrance.

He carefully fell into the groove of being the spoiled brat everyone had painted him out to be. It had been awhile since he played the part, but Bruce always found it easy when he was surrounded by these kinds of people.

Bruce made sure to slightly slur his words. He would get too handsy with his dates. He would rudely interrupt people to share his own useless opinion on whatever topic was leading the conversation. He never looked waitstaff in the eye.

But now it was time for the finale.

Bruce whispered a certain suggestion into the ears of his dates.

They shared a look that proved they were both game.

The three of them stumbled into a bathroom – one out in the open that most of the guests would be steered toward.

The kissing began and clothes were quickly shifted.

There was a split moment when Bruce wondered what this would feel like for a man who actually wanted to be in this situation.

The two woman managed unbuckle his belt, the clanking metal echoing in the all-tile bathroom.

But just as they unbuttoned and then unzipped his pants, Bruce’s cellphone rang loudly.

Right on cue.

“Ladies, ladies, ladies,” Bruce whined. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,” his words stumbled out. “But I just have to take this call.”

“Aww. Brucie. You’re no fun,” one of the women fussed.

But Bruce gave off enough dominate energy that they didn’t try to fight him on it.

Hair disheveled, mouth swollen and pink, lipstick stains on his skin and his pants and belt barely put back together, Bruce stumbled out of the bathroom first.

The two women didn’t bother to stay back and spread out their exits, making it very clear what had just happened – or what it looked like just happened.

It didn’t matter that Bruce didn’t actually have sex with them, every woman in Gotham wanted to say they’d shared a bed with Bruce Wayne. His two dates would lie to save face and get street cred. Bruce hated that he knew that, that it was guaranteed.

Dozens of people, who were socializing near the bathroom, stopped what they were doing and watched with judgmental looks. Some men looked jealous. Some women looked disgusted and eyed the two women up and down.

Then there was the flash of a camera.

Bingo.

Bruce wouldn’t have to linger much longer now.  

He played up being somewhat embarrassed.

But just as he put his phone to his ear to take the fake call that Alfred dialed, he saw the last person he expected.

It caused him to do a double take and freeze. 

His focus fell for a moment as they made eye contact.

Why did she have to be here?

Why did she have to be one of his witnesses?

Why did it hurt so much to see how she looked at him as if he were a stranger?

And why did she have to look so god damn beautiful?

Y/F/N Y/L/N.

The Y/L/N family were another one of Gotham’s elite – well, they used to be.

Y/N’s father was once worth billions. But being born into wealth didn’t guarantee intelligence or the skills to properly run the family business. When Bruce and Y/N were in high school, Y/N’s father filed for bankruptcy and confessed that the family was about to lose everything. With the announcement, the press also exposed Mr. Y/L/N’s many lustful affairs.

What came next was a messy and brutal divorce that the media ate up.  

Out of spite, Y/N’s mother remarried her ex-husband’s biggest competitor, maintaining her status and wealth, and making sure she still came out on top. It was the greatest revenge and even Y/N had to give her mother credit for the ingenuity of it all.

Bruce remembered how terrible it all was for Y/N, who was used as a pawn in her parents war against each other.

Having had enough of it, Y/N fled Gotham and chose to live with her eccentric great aunt in London and finished her last year of high school there.

But Y/N didn’t run away from Bruce. They emailed, texted, video chatted, called.

They had always been good friends.

The elites of Gotham always suspected the two would get married. But both Bruce and Y/N pretended to ignore such whisperings.

But when Bruce shifted his life, when he changed his life’s purpose, when he started becoming a vigilante…he stopped taking Y/N’s calls and he stopped returning them.

He told himself it was better that way. He couldn’t handle any distractions. Batman didn’t have time for personal relationships, so neither did Bruce Wayne. But more importantly, Y/N deserved someone who would prioritize her – even just as a friend.

Now Bruce needed to get actually drunk.

Putting the phone back to his ear, he broke eye contact and made a beeline for one of the bars. 

“Did you forget to tell me about the guest list, Alfred?” Bruce muttered evenly to the phone, knowing that Alfred would easily be able to hear his anger and irritation.

“How was I to know who RSVPed yes or no…” Alfred bit back. But he knew exactly who Bruce was looking at.

Bruce frowned as he ended the call abruptly and asked for a whiskey.

“I don’t know, man. She’s not my type,” a man said to his friend.

The two of them were just a foot or two away from Bruce.

“What do you mean ‘not your type’? She’s fucking hot.”

“Don’t get me wrong, she’s beautiful. But she’s so stiff and uptight. Look, she’s had a resting bitch face all night.”

Bruce’s grip on his face tightened as he easily put together who they were talking about. It was moments like these that Bruce hated being lumped together with men like this.

“You’re an idiot,” the friend said with a laugh.

“Oh, yeah? Alright. If you’re so obsessed with her, why don’t you go over and talk to her?”

Bruce saw his window. 

With a sloppy haste, Bruce turned right into the two men and just happened to spill his drink over the man who was about to make a move on Y/N.

Bruce laughed and spilled another drink on the bar as he tried to grab some nearby cocktail napkins. “Gentleman, gentleman…I so dearly apologize.”

Both of them were clearly annoyed, but then realized who he was.  

Bruce gripped them by the shoulders and made sure his eyes were struggling to stay open. “I could be wrong…but it’s possible…that I have been over served.”

He broke out into a chuckle and both men forced their own laughter.

Bruce subtle glanced over to where Y/N had been standing. She’d disappeared.

He’d spared her…for now.

“I think it’s time I go home,” Bruce told them too loudly. “Do me a favor? Wish her congratulations for me?”

The two men looked at one another. “Congratulations? To who?”

Bruce frowned in confusion and looked around. “Isn’t this an engagement party?”

They tried to hide their laughter. “Wayne, this is a birthday party. For Eaton Elliot.”

Bruce’s brows shot up. “A birthday party? Look at that!”

Then he turned around, zigzagged his walk, and threw a wave over his shoulder.

But Bruce wasn’t that lucky.

Because when he made his way to the valet, he found Y/N waiting patiently with her back to him. 

Her fancy dress and gloves seemed to do nothing to help protect her from the cold night. 

Bruce could’ve left. He could’ve left her alone, gone back into the party, and made more of a fool of himself.

But next thing he knew, he was walking forward.  

“Waiting for your car?”

Y/N didn’t turn to him, but it was clear that she heard his question and recognized who it had come from. “I didn’t drive. They’re getting me a cab.”

Bruce nodded slowly even though she wasn’t looking at him.

All charm had left his body now that he had quit the act. It wasn’t going to do any favors for him. He needed to do this on his own, as his real self.

Y/N finally turned with a slight attitude and Bruce was taken aback at how she was even more beautiful up close.

“What are you doing here, Bruce?”

He smirked. “I’m here for the party, of course.” He didn’t want to play the part anymore – not with her. But it was second nature at this point.

Her lips pursed at his response.

“Leaving so soon?” He asked.

Y/N sighed. “Between you and me, I’m only here as a favor to my mother. She wouldn’t get off my back about coming. I tried to leave sooner, but…”

One of the valets hopped up the steps. “I’m sorry, Dr. Y/L/N. It can take awhile to get cabs in the area at this time of night.”

Y/N gave him a sympathetic smile and opened her mouth to say she’d walk home.

“I’ll drive her home,” Bruce spoke before she could. Then he handed the valet his ticket.

Y/N looked at him with confusion and a bit of annoyance. “You really don’t have to do that.”

Bruce just gave her a look that said he absolutely did.

Then Y/N gestured back to the party. “You’re just gonna abandon your dates?”

The way she asked made it clear that Y/N had seen Bruce stumble out of the bathroom with the two of them. He also didn’t miss how she emphasized the plural.

“They’ll be fine,” Bruce told her.

He took a step toward her. “Let me give you a ride, Y/N.”

She took in a deep breath.

She knew she needed the ride. Only an idiot would walk home at this time of night, even if the walk to her apartment was a relatively safe one for Gotham standards.

Y/N just nodded.

A minute later, an Aston Martin drove up.

Bruce offered his arm to Y/N and helped her down the stairs before opening the passenger door for her.

He handed the valet a few bills, not even noticing they were all hundreds.

“Where to?” Bruce asked her.

“Oh, umm…” Y/N quickly gave him her address.

“I know you’ve been gone awhile, but you definitely shouldn’t be walking around the streets of Gotham at night.”

Y/N scoffed. “I’m aware. I moved back awhile ago.”

“Oh. I didn’t know…”

“Yeah. Well, why would you? It’s not like you kept in touch.”

The car filled with silence.

Y/N stared out the passenger window, looking at the skyscraper lights of Gotham

It seemed Y/N had no issue with staying silent for the whole car ride.There was nothing awkward about it for her.

But Bruce knew there were things he needed to say. “I’m sorry.”

This was the last thing Y/N expected and her head whipped to him.

But Bruce kept his eyes on the road. “For disappearing like I did.”

Y/N slowly turned back to the passenger window and said nothing.

Bruce didn’t expect to win her forgiveness. He would have to deal with that. But at least he could apologize.

“Y/N.” Bruce said it ever so quietly, like he was forbidden from speaking it. “This isn’t…I’m not…” Dammit. What was he even trying to accomplish right now? “Back there–”

“Back there?” Y/N interrupted his fumbling. “Oh, you mean the threesome you had in a bathroom at a party?”

Bruce’s jaw tightened.

Everyone bought his performance. Unfortunately, even Y/N.

Bruce pulled over and Y/N realized they were at her building already.

“You can say whatever makes you feel good, Bruce. Have at it.” Then she threw open the car door.

She put her hand on the handle to help herself out.

But she hesitated.

No. She wasn’t going down without a fight.

Y/N spun around to face Bruce, his blue eyes already waiting for her.

“You used to be kind. Strong and brave. You were better than all of them.”

And for the first time, Bruce really saw the damage he had done.

“Is that boy really gone?” She searched his eyes for the answer. “What is the act and what is the truth?” She whispered. “Huh, Bruce?”

He wanted to tell her.

Bruce had never felt the urge to expose his secret ever before.

But right now? Right now, he wanted to take Y/N back to the manor, drag her down to the cave, and show her all of his secrets – every single one.

But he couldn’t. And he knew that.

Bruce kept his face reserved.

His brow furrowed for just a second as he took Y/N in. All of her. Her eyelashes. Her lips. The styling of her hair. The dip of her neck.

“You became quite the woman, Y/N.” He told her. “And a beautiful one at that.”

Y/N blinked at the statement. Her mind desperately tried to decipher the hidden message in his words, in his actions from the night. But she came up with nothing.

She wanted to say that she knew he was using flattery to divert her attention from what she wanted to know. But it was also clear that he genuinely meant what he said as well. His eyes seeming to be taking in every moment of being in her presence.

If Y/N weren’t so irritated, she probably would’ve been more taken aback by his compliment, feeling vulnerable and almost embarrassed.

There wasn’t any point in pushing.

So Y/N took in a breath. “Thank you for the ride, Bruce.”

He just nodded. Then he watched her walk to the door of her apartment building. He probably lingered a few moments too long, but he couldn’t bring himself to once again put distance between them.

————

Alfred brought down food and an espresso to the cave.

When he looked up, Y/F/N Y/L/N’s face was on the giant screen.

“Working on a case, Master Wayne?” He asked with his usual sarcasm.

Bruce ignored the question. “She attended undergrad in Metropolis and then went to grad school in New York City.”

“Yes, I can see that…considering you have her student records exploited all over the screen,” Alfred responded with a smirk. “She’s been living in Gotham again for a few years, working as a psychiatrist. Even volunteers her services at Arkham – pro bono.”

That caught Bruce’s attention. He turned away from the screen to look at Alfred.

“I found no record of that,” he argued.

“Yes. Well, her mother is rather embarrassed by it. Thinks it gives the family a bad image. She insisted Y/N’s philanthropy was kept secret, even approved the NDAs herself.”

Bruce gave him a look, utterly confused how Alfred had access to such information.

Alfred raised an eyebrow. “Never underestimate the power of gossip, Master Wayne. Most family secrets cannot be found on the dark corners of the internet.” Then he smirked. “You would gain quite the knowledge if you didn’t turn your nose up at it.”

Bruce smiled at that and turned back to the computer.

“So, I take it that it was good seeing her?” Alfred pressed.

Bruce tensed at the question. “Not entirely. I’m certain that she hates me.”

“Hates you or hates the character you’ve so carefully created?”

“It doesn’t matter. I’m just Bruce Wayne to her.”

Alfred opened his mouth to say more.

“Leave it, Alfred.” Bruce cut off before he could.

“Well, it appears I’m not the one struggling with leaving it alone, Master Wayne.”

Like many of Gotham’s elites, Alfred had humored the idea that Bruce and Y/N would make a marvelous couple. Like Bruce, Y/N didn’t let money and power sway her morals or damage her good and kind heart.

Alfred had always enjoyed having her over and listening to her and Bruce’s laughter as they caused trouble around the manor and entertained themselves.

But he also saw how her departure effected Bruce, no matter how much the teenager had tried to hide it at the time.

Maybe Alfred was an optimist or a romantic, but he still believed there was a chance for the two of them. But Bruce, quite frankly, would have to get over himself and his stubbornness.

————

Bruce was looking down at the city from yet another rooftop. It had been a quiet night. And he hated nights like that. It was always ended up being the calm before a storm.

“Batman?” Alfred spoke into his comms.

“Yes.”

“It appears there’s been a breakout at Arkham. The media hasn’t caught wind of it yet. But law enforcement has already been dispatched.”

“I’m on my way,” Bruce announced as he slid down a fire escape and made his way to the batmobile that he’d hidden in the shadows of an alley.

“Master Wayne…” Alfred knew to only use codenames on comms.

Bruce tense. “What is it?”

There was hesitation from the butler. “Y/N was scheduled to work a shift there tonight…”

Bruce said nothing. But his foot pressed the gas pedal down further than necessary.

—

Y/N was sitting with a patient when the alarm went off.

The people that worked there called them inmates, and corrected her every time she chose not to use that title.

Harleen Quinzel had been sitting across from Y/N for almost 30 minutes when they were interrupted.

“Oh, fun!” Harley clapped and giggled as the sirens filled their ears.

Harley and Y/N had formed an interesting relationship. The criminal seemed to like her and looked forward to her visits. She never threatened Y/N or tried to manipulate her.

Y/N believes she won her over by addressing her as Dr. Quinzel and often asking her professional opinions on trends and news in their industry. 

Most people there only referred to Harley as if she was property of the Joker, no matter how many times Harley clarified that she wasn’t his anything anymore.

“Does this happen a lot?” Y/N asked her, trying to remain calm.

“Not enough, if ya ask me!” She laughed.

Y/N made the mistake of opening the door and seeing that the majority of the cells had been opened and prisoners were slowly making their way into the hallway.

“Not good,” Y/N muttered.

“Don’t worry, doc. I’ll protect ya! Us gals gotta stick together.” Harley said from behind her shoulder.

Y/N whipped around and looked at her and then at the table she’d been sitting at. “Dr. Quinzel! How did you get out of your restraints?”

“Oh, I’ve always been able to. I just leave ‘em on to be polite.”

Y/N sighed. No one had explained any sort of protocol for such a situation.

“Where the fuck are all the guards?” Y/N asked.

Suddenly the lights shut off.

“Yippy!” Harley cheered.

Y/N turned to her and softly grabbed her shoulder, but gave her an insistent look. “Harley, we need to get somewhere safe.”

Her face did dip to serious for a moment. “You don’t need to worry about me. But you’re right. Not everyone in here appreciates a shrink…”

To her surprise, Harley starts pulling her through the darkness with a purpose.

Y/N had no idea where she was planning on taking her. It seemed all the doors were in lock-down mode, leaving her stranded. If she survived tonight, she’d definitely be bringing that up to the board.

Bang. Bang. Bang.

Y/N yelped at the sound.

Someone had either gotten a hold of a gun or security guards were opening fire.

Either way, it caused chaos to erupt.

Suddenly the dark hallways were being filled with a stampede of prisoners. Either they wanted to take down the guard who was shooting or they were getting an adrenaline rush at the concept of their peers attacking their wardens.

The crowd ripped the two women apart. Y/N was shoved up against the wall and her head slammed against the cement.

Y/N swore under her breath from the pain.

“Is that…No, it can’t be…”

A voice called out over the madness.

A chill went up Y/N’s spine. She’d know that voice anywhere.

The Joker.

He wasn’t one of her patients. All researchers and doctors were forbidden to speak with him – especially after what happened with Harley.

But that didn’t stop the Joker from knowing who Y/N was. He whined and whined about feeling left out. “All my pals get to chat with her and all I get to do is look!”

Now, Joker was free from him isolation.

Y/N suspected he was behind the breakout.

And he was going to make a slight detour. A detour that was doing whatever the hell he wanted to with Dr. Y/L/N.

Y/N didn’t even bother hiding her fear. With a new found strength and endurance, she started shoving her way through the mob.

“I hear you and my pumpkin’ pie have gotten close.” Then his smile dropped. “Too close, if ya ask me.”

Y/N ignored him as another prisoner shoved into her shoulder.

“I don’t appreciate you putting ideas in her head!”

Y/N stopped, realizing she had miscalculated her escape and had come to a dead end.

So she slowly turned around to face him, putting her back to the wall. “And what ideas are those?”

“Independence. Self respect. A life beyond crime and incarceration,” he spat.

Y/N realized he had his goonies flanking him, only making her odds that much worse.

“Those aren’t ideas. They’re a reality, a possible future,” she defended.

Joker didn’t like that answer one bit. He threw himself against her, once again slamming Y/N into the wall.

He gripped her chin roughly and smiled with his yellow teeth. “You know…she’s not the only doctor I’d like to break in. And in more ways than one, if you catch my drift,” he giggled.

Then his eyes raked over her body, up and down. His hands slid down her hips and the side of her legs until they got to the hem of her pencil skirt.

Y/N shoved him away with all of her strength. 

But that earned her a slap across the face from him.

Joker gripped her waist tightly pressing her between the wall and his body. “I’m in charge now, doc. And I’ve got a few lessons to teach you.”

His hands grabbed at the buttons of her blouse and with one jerk, he ripped open her her blouse.

But before he could go any further, a few of his lackeys cried out in pain. 

Y/N swore she heard the sound of objects whipping through the darkness. 

She didn’t want to let herself feel any relief. But she hoped Harley had made her way back to her. She’d probably pack an even heavier punch once she realized Y/N needed protecting from her asshole ex.

But when Joker turned around and Y/N followed his gaze, Harley was nowhere to be found.

Yet three men were on the ground, unconscious.

“Well, well, well,” Joker muttered in amusement. “Has Batsy come out to play?”

Next thing Y/N saw was a shadow dropping down out of nowhere and taking out even more of Joker’s men.

Joker seemed to be prepared for such an interruption. Because he grabbed a knife from somewhere hidden on his body and ripped Y/N off the wall. He pressed Y/N’s back to his chest and put the tip of his knife to her throat.

“Come out, come out wherever you are,” Joker sang.

To Y/N’s shock, Batman stepped into what little light was in the hallway.

“Long time, no see!” Joker screamed so loudly that Y/N flinched. “Did you miss me, Batsy? And you came all this way to see little old me?! How very sweet!”

“Your attempted escape was a failure,” Batman stated. “There’s nowhere for you to go. All the exits are blocked. Arkham has been contained.”

“What a shame! I really felt this one was gonna work!” Joker laughed.

Batman took a step toward him. “It’s over, Joker.”

“You’re probably right,” Joker shrugged. “But I really wanted to have some fun with doc here. So, if you could give us some privacy.”

Batman’s eyes flickered to Y/N’s for a brief moment. “Let her go,” he warned.

“How about…no?” Joker laughed.

Just as Batman was about to make his move, Y/N grabbed the wrist of Joker’s arm that held the knife. She twisted it and dived in such a succinct motion that it was obvious Y/N had been trained.

Whipping herself out of Joker’s grip, she twisted Joker’s arm so roughly and quickly behind his back that he had no choice but to drop his knife from the pain.

Then Y/N was now facing him, and with one swift swing of her leg, she kicked him right in the groan.

Batman saw his opening and rushed forward, cuffing Joker in place.

While Batman neutralized him, Y/N stumbled for the knife that Joker had dropped, still not feeling safe and out of danger.

She looked around, realizing that the police had filtered in and apprehended all the escaped prisoners. Some were already locked back into their cells. Other’s were in handcuffs with guns being pointed at them in warning.

“Dr. Y/L/N,” his voice made her whip back around.

How the hell did Batman know her name?

She squinted wearily at him.

“You can drop the knife,” Batman told her quietly.

Y/N blinked and looked down at her hand, having forgotten that she even grabbed the knife. And she now had a vice-like grip on it.

Her hands were shaking when she dropped the knife and the clatter echoed in the hallway.

She eyed the Joker, not trusting any sort of weapon to be in his vicinity, despite being handcuffed now.

“He’s not going anywhere,” Batman noted, as if he could read her mind and hear the concerns she was thinking.

Police officers surrounded them now.

“Until next time, doc!” Joker sang loudly.

Batman stepped between him and Y/N, shielding her from even being seen by the lunatic.

Y/N eyed him, wondering if he did that on purpose.

“This way,” he directed lowly as he led her out of the hallway.

Y/N was surprised when he escorted her all the way out of the building.

Wasn’t this supposed to be Gotham’s Dark Knight? A disappearing act? An urban legend that some people still didn’t believe in?

When they got outside, there were even more officers. The night was flickering blue and red from all the patrol car’s lights still being on.

Commissioner Gordon was having a field day with Arkham’s warden, yelling at him about lack of protocol and no protection for the volunteers and workers that had gotten caught in the crossfire.

But finally, the reality of what just happened was starting to set in for Y/N. And she realized that her entire body was shaking.

All of a sudden, a blanket was wrapped around her shoulders.

She looked up to see that Batman had draped it over her. When and where he’d grabbed it, she had no clue. But the warmth was helping, so she didn’t question it.

“Thank you…for saving me back there.”

Was that a smirk on his lips? Was Batman amused by her?

Why was it so comforting when he was a mere stranger?

And his eyes, even when they were surrounded by a cowl and dark paint, they still felt familiar. Y/N had a similar feeling to deja vu.

“Looked like you had it handled,” he replied.

“Oh, I definitely didn’t. But thank god for those self-defense classes.”

They looked into each other’s eyes for a second.

“Make sure you get checked out by the paramedics,” he told her gently, but insistent.

It was far too gentle for his Batman alter ego. But she caught how it sounded like it personally mattered to him.

Y/N looked behind her, where the ambulance was.

But when she turned back around, Batman was gone.

Next thing Y/N knew, she was being surrounded by two paramedics and Commissioner Gordon who was careful not to push her by asking too many questions at once.

“Does he always do that?” She asked him in a daze.

“Do what?” Gordon asked.

“Disappear like that?”

Gordon smiled and nodded. “Annoying, isn’t it?”

———

“What’s the gossip of the privileged this week?” Bruce asked Alfred at breakfast a few days after the outbreak.

“Something specific you’re looking for, Master Wayne?” Alfred asked as he poured Bruce a big mug of coffee.

Bruce glared at him, knowing he was playing coy with him.

But he put his pride aside. “How is she doing?”

Alfred took pity on him. “She took some time off work. But seems to be handling it better than expected. Makes quite a bit of sense, doesn’t it? Her being psychiatrist and all.”

Bruce just nodded with a dazed look.

“You could always see for yourself…” Alfred added.

Bruce snapped out of his daze and looked up him questioningly.

“You could go see her,” Alfred confirmed.

“Alfred, don’t you start.”

“Start what, Master Wayne? Pushing you to form any sort of relationship?”

Bruce sighed and got up from the breakfast nook. He didn’t want to fight with him, so he’d made his exit before that happened.

“Batman has plenty of friends,” Alfred stopped him. “But what about Bruce Wayne, hmm? Who are his friends?”

“You saying we’re not friends, Alfred?”

“I’m all you’ve got, Master Wayne. And that’s my point.”

Before the discussion could go on any further, the doorbell rang.

The two men shared a look. 

No one stopped by the manor.

Alfred made his way over.

Bruce figured he’d wait where he was. But the front entrance was too far away from him to overhear any conversation.

A few minutes later, Alfred walked in with an unreadable expression.

“Dr. Y/L/N is here, Master Wayne. She is waiting for you in the drawing room.”

Bruce opened his mouth to tell him to make an excuse and get her to leave. But Alfred was already disappearing, making it clear that he would do no such thing for him.

When Bruce walked into the drawing room, he found Y/N’s back to him as she looked at the family heirlooms and trinkets that were displayed on the shelved.

She was dressed casually, which caught Bruce off guard since he’d only see her in formal wear and professional outfits since their reunion. Her hair was in a messy bun and she didn’t appear to be wearing much makeup, if any at all.

“Hi,” he greeted softly, making her quickly turn around.

“Hi,” she replied.

Bruce stepped further into the room. But neither of them moved to sit in any of the many seats that surrounded them.

“I heard what happened. How are you doing?” He asked.

She nodded and shrugged. “Alright.”

“I’m surprised to see you here,” Bruce admitted.

Y/N ignored his comment and her eyes went around the room. “I missed this place,” she thought aloud. Then her eyes fell back to his, softening. “I missed you.”

Bruce was taken aback from her confession. Seeing as the last time they were together, she was rather blunt about how disgusted and disappointed in him she was.

The energy between them felt so different than last time.

To his surprise, Y/N stepped toward him. And she didn’t stop until she was at a proximity that most would call rather intimate.

There was a voice in the back of Bruce’s mind, urging him to close the last bit of distance and place his lips on hers. But he managed to ignore it. That didn’t stop his heart from beating faster, though.

Y/N stared into his eyes for a few seconds, almost like she was searching for something.

“I have something that belongs to you…”

Bruce waited, not sure what she could possibly have to give him.

But then she pulled out one of his batarangs from her coat pocket, offering it to him.

She had found it embedded in the wall when she had gone back down to grab her personal belongings that night. 

Bruce kept his face composed. “I’m not sure I understand.” 

But he grabbed it from her anyways.

“He’s you,” she whispered. “Or I guess…you’re him.”

Bruce let out a breath, “Y/N…”

She took step away from him. “Don’t lie to me, Bruce.”

So he shut his mouth and said nothing instead.

“I’ve been doing some research. Things started lining up,” Y/N explained. “The first Batman sightings were right around when we stopped talking. The more Batman was in the press, the less Bruce Wayne was. And when he was, it was never positive – like it was meant to be a distraction.”

Her eyes went sad. “I never understood how the boy I used to love could grow into the man I’m so disappointed in. It never made sense.” She paused. “But when you wonder if the man himself is the mask, it all fits.”

“I’m sorry.” Bruce hung his head slightly. “I couldn’t tell anyone. Not even you.”

“I’d never share your secret.”

“I know,” he answered instantly.

Y/N couldn’t hold back her emotions any longer. Her eyes welled with tears. “Bruce…living like this has its consequences.”

Bruce said nothing.

She stepped forward and grabbed his hand. “You can’t change the world on your own. You don’t have to do this alone.”

Y/N wasn’t giving him advice. She was offering him something.  

Her trust.

Her secrecy.

Her love.

He shook his head, but gripped her hand tightly. “You would just end up in the shadows with me. And I…I can’t do that to you.”

“I’m stronger than you think,” Y/N defended.

“I’ve always known how strong you are, Y/N.” His jaw tightened at even the thought of being selfish. “You deserve more than what I can give. Gotham will always come first. That’s the sacrifice I made. That’s what is required. I can’t be what you need.”

Y/N studied his face, knowing that there would be no winning with him.

She nodded once, not even slightly hiding her heartbreak and disappointment.

Then she stepped closer and gave him a slow kiss on the cheek.

“It’s not a one time offer, Bruce.”

Bruce couldn’t move a muscle. He was rooted in place.

He heard Y/N have a short conversation with Alfred, then the door closed, and she was gone again.

———

Bruce Wayne was a fool.

Alfred could probably make a list, in seconds, with a hundred reasons why.

But, no, Bruce Wayne was a fool for believing Y/N would give up so easily.

Two weeks later, Y/N was at Wayne Manor again.

Bruce knew something was going on when Alfred didn’t seem surprised in the slightest.

In one of her arms was popcorn seeds, twizzlers, sour patch kids, and chocolate covered pretzels. In the other arm was a case of beer.

Y/N barely said hi to Bruce as Alfred helped her out of her coat and took the things out of her grasp so she was no longer struggling to hold it all.

“I’m here to use your theater,” she announced.

And with that, she walked right past Bruce like she owned the place.

Bruce looked at Alfred and silently asked, ‘What the hell is going on?’

“I believe you have a guest to entertain, Master Wayne.” Then he looked at the items in his hand. “And I believe I have some popcorn to make.”

Bruce still didn’t move.

“You successfully closed yet another case last night, it’s Friday night, and you have a beautiful woman who decided she wants to spend her time with you. Best you don’t keep her waiting, Master Wayne.”

Bruce narrowed his gaze as if telling Alfred they’d discuss this matter at another time.

“I presume you shouldn’t go empty handed,” Alfred added quickly and handed Bruce two beers from the case in his arms.

Bruce chuckled, but started walking away. “I’m surprised you even let this stuff in the house, Alfred.”

When Bruce reached the theater, Y/N had already started a movie.

He watched her a for a moment before she could realize he'd joined her. 

Y/N looked like she belonged there. Even after all this time apart, she just burrowed herself a cozy nook in Bruce’s life.

It was something she had been able to do even when they were kids. When Bruce had his mood swings or his depressive episodes, Y/N didn’t scare. She just found her way to stay at his side without upsetting him further.

Bruce grabbed the seat to the left of hers.

They weren’t really seats, more like small beds. A dozen were placed in the theater.

A couple could easily share one, but Bruce wasn’t planning on even approaching that fine line.

When Bruce sat down, he didn’t look at Y/N. But she gave a shy smile at his joining.

It was a long movie – almost a 3 hour run time.

And Y/N almost made it.

Without only 30 minutes left, Y/N had fallen asleep. Meaning Bruce’s attention was now taken from the movie.

He got up and grabbed one of the many blankets in the trunk hidden in the corner and placed it carefully over her, before silently leaving.

This was not a one time thing.

These type of visits continued.

Bruce knew Y/N and Alfred had to be in cahoots together. 

Y/N seemed to always come to the manor when Bruce needed her most. 

Alfred would force Bruce out of the cave and moments later, the doorbell would be ringing.

On the bad nights, she wouldn’t make him talk. She wouldn’t ask questions or try to make him magically feel better. Sometimes she would talk – mostly about mundane things. She’d tell Bruce about her day or how her neighbor always left baked goods at her door or about the new show she started watching. Sometimes she wouldn’t say anything at all, just sit there silently and make sure he wasn’t alone.

Sometimes she would bring coffee and pastries.

Sometimes Bruce would just walk into the library and find her reading.

Sometimes she would sit and chat with Alfred as if he was the reason she was visiting, and not Bruce.

Bruce couldn’t sleep one night. Nothing specific was causing his insomnia. Just the overall weight of being so many people.

It was 3AM when Y/N texted him to open the door for her because she didn’t want to wake Alfred.

When Bruce did so, Y/N was standing on the other door in sandals and a slightly transparent coverup that barely showed the outline of the bathing suit underneath.

He said nothing, but his face clearly showed that he wanted to know why the hell she was there in the middle of the night.

“Couldn’t sleep,” Y/N told him quietly. Then she shrugged a bit,“I decided I wanted to go for a swim."

Whether she was lying for his benefit, Bruce wasn’t sure. But he followed her to the indoor swimming pool like a sailor would follow a siren.

Without hesitation, Y/N kicked her sandals off and tossed her coverup on the nearest chair. And the next second, she was diving into the pool.

Bruce smirked at her nonchalance, but made sure to hide it when she breached the surface once again.

“Doesn’t your apartment building have its won pool?” He asked.

Y/N smiled and tilted her head back to get her hair wet again and out of her face. “They put too much chlorine in it.”

Bruce crossed his arms, “I see.”

“Coming in?” She asked teasingly.

He shook his head.

“At least keep me company,” she requested.

Bruce glared playfully at her, knowing the game she was playing.

But he finally sighed and nodded.

He was in cotton shorts and a t-shirt. But he decided to sit on the edge of the pool and dip his feet in.

He watched as she swam around, looking as natural in the water as a mermaid. She had always loved swimming as a kid and it appeared not much had changed.

“Why couldn’t you sleep?” He finally decided to break the silence.

Y/N swam to him and crossed her arms on the edge of the pool to rest and tilted her head to look at him.

She shrugged, “The usual: stress, nightmares, insomnia, too much caffeine.”

 Bruce’s concern spiked instantly. “Nightmares about what?”

She watched him for a moment, seeing how quickly her subtle comment triggered him.

“You’re not the only person who’s seen fucked up things, Bruce.”

An hour later, Y/N asked for a towel.

When she climbed out, she was taken aback by Bruce wrapping it around her shoulders and rubbing her down gently. It was innocent, but subtly intimate.

As their eyes locked for a prolonged time, and he seemed to realize what he’d done accidentally.

Y/N cleared her throat. “I should head home and let you try to get some sleep.”

“You could stay,” he offered. “I mean, we have plenty of bedrooms here,” he quickly added and saved himself a bit.

“Is that…what you want?” Y/N asked slowly.

Bruce knew what she was trying to ask. He didn’t trust himself to answer the way he should, so he didn’t answer.

“Let me drive you home,” he asked as they left the indoor pool and started toward the front entrance.

Y/N ignored the request until they were at the door. She turned to face him with a smug look, “I’m perfectly capable of driving myself. Thank you.”

She hesitated before kissing him on the cheek. “Get some sleep, Bruce.”

————

Months after Y/N’s visits started, Bruce was doing some research for a case on his tablet as he ate dinner.

“Margaret Caulfield’s engagement party is tonight,” Alfred broke the silence of the manor as he took Bruce’s finished plate.

Bruce looked confused on why he was supposed to care.

“Y/N will be there,” Alfred added.

But Bruce still didn’t understand what he was trying to say.

“Master Wayne, when you attend all those sufferable parties, what is the first question people ask you?”

Bruce thought for a moment. “When I plan on settling down, I guess.”

“Now imagine that, but magnified by about 100…and that is what Y/N’s experience is at those same parties. That young woman is one of the brightest people in Gotham and all those people care about is who will put a silly ring on her finger.”

Bruce leaned back in his chair, now understanding what Alfred was getting at. “I’m not her boyfriend, Alfred.”

“And you’ve made damn sure of that,” Alfred said a little too harshly.

Bruce watched him carefully.

“Y/N has fought off every one of your attempts to be a miserable recluse.”

Bruce opened his mouth.

“And don’t you dare try and tell me her efforts are wasted,” Alfred cut him off. “I’ve seen a change in you. And she has asked for absolutely nothing in return. She’d never ask you to pick her over Batman. Though she bloody well should!”

He wasn’t done.

“You’re not living, Master Wayne. And I won’t apologize for wanting more for you.”

Bruce just sat there and took it.

Alfred took in a breath, calming himself down. “There’s a suit waiting for you in your bedroom. I’ve decided I’m going for a evening walk.”

——————

Y/N didn’t know how many more champagnes she’d have to shrug to start feeling the buzz she so desperately needed.

Not even an hour of being at the party and she’s already been asked 15 times if she was seeing anyone. And when she answered no, half of those ended in them trying to set her up with someone.

As Y/N was trying to think of an excuse to escape, an old family friend approached her – a friend of her grandma’s unfortunately.

“Y/N, dear, let me see those hands!”

Y/N wanted to roll her eyes and snap, but she did as requested.

“No ring yet,” the woman teased, but she was also genuinely disappointed.

“That would be my fault, actually.” A voice said behind Y/N before she felt a hand on her lower back.

“Oh, Mr. Wayne, how nice of you to come!” The woman beamed. “Now, Y/N, why wouldn’t you tell anyone that you and Bruce are an item?”

“My fault again,” Bruce chuckled, “I’ve always enjoyed a good secret.”

Before she could ask more, Bruce smiled politely. “If you could excuse us for a moment.”

He steered Y/N to a private area of the party.

“What are you doing?” Y/N hissed at him. “The press are gonna have a field day. You and I will be every headline tomorrow.”

He smiled at her frantic concern.

“Why are you looking at me like that? I’m serious!”

Bruce captured her lips, silencing any further panic from her.

Y/N was completely caught off guard, but he wasn’t letting her go so easily. And soon, her hand went to the back of his head and she kissed him back. 

Damn all the people who were probably watching them.

When Bruce finally let her pull away, he smirked at her dazed look and cupped her cheek. 

She matched his smirk.

But then reality set in like a splash of cold water and she frowned.

“Am I – Is this your new cover?” She asked shakily, so scared that the answer was ‘yes.’

She could tolerate being Bruce’s friend for the rest of her life. But she wouldn’t survive being used in such a way. She couldn’t live in a fake relationship with a man she actually loved. She’d rather watch his sloppy persona with girls hanging off of him.

“No cover-up,” he muttered to her. “Just me and you – the real me.”

-----------------------------------------------------

I worked so hard on this 😩  Please let me know your thoughts.