#if only he'd knew whos idea was to take and return that egg............

[superconductivebean]

#173: Hogwarts Inquires - Ø

Loosely based on this post.

ABSOLUTELY NOT SPOILER FREE

A really long wall of text under the cut. I'm done for, I'll document the entirety of this game I stg, guess I'll die.

（ ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)つ━━✫・*。

Before putting that one up, gotta say: didn't expect so much to happen just within MC's first week of Hogwarts; I say that every time I start anew.

From the player's perspective, running around the castle, solving secrets here and there, navigating the halls doesn't seem like a lot's going on at the very early stages of the game; I mean the pre-Map Chamber stage specifically, as it barely has anything to do both in and outside of the castle. MC doesn't have a broom yet, her -- I will refer to MC as to her in these -- spell set isn't spectacular to battle with and isn't full yet to solve many puzzles throughout the Highlands. Travelling on foot is possible but mundane and downright, increasingly irritating when you have to constantly sell stuff either in the Lower Hogsfield or Hogsmeade. But.

It all makes perfect sense, considering, MC has been in the castle for the less than a week. These quests are her acclimatising to her new life and getting familiar with the surrounding areas; from the player's perspective, it is also rather mundane. In-universe, MC wakes up and after class, has to explore, traverse and venture through many locations barely recognisable to her despite Field Guide Smart GPS -- which can be very much a convenience rather than a lore-accurate thing -- and subsequently learn about the Owlery, all exits of the castle, find a cave in the Forbidden Forest and open a Chamber deep beneath the Lake Merlin knows where in a positively enormous but still an enormous castle. On the very first week of the new life. With a befuddlement or confusion or the eel of getting lost, hinted by her own words -- if quest descriptions are to be believed -- My Field Guide won't guide me through this assignment and The castle is enormous! I may need to use the Charmed Compass in the Field Guide to help me find the way.

It's truly alot to take in during the first week, and MC acknowledges it herself:

Sebastian: Have you had much of a chance to explore the castle? MC: A little. It's positively enormous.

Professor Garlick: I spent a good deal of time alone in either the greenhouse or the library my first days here. MC: [[It takes some getting used to.]] It does take a while to adjust to being here.

Besides that, some areas had to be restricted access only. To add to ever-increasing number of tasks on MC's hands at all times.

Restrictions were implied -- and even used a few times -- but never implemented, likely cut, for some reason or another. While I found it unbelievably sad there isn't a single restriction and penalty for trespassing left almost entirely, for the sake of narrative building let's call it that, this all can be easily build upon what's already given. Along with a morality system, a hero meter, you name it, but what initially needed is awareness from the in-universe perspective.

It is important because it is also implied that MC's activities and Fig's searches are surrounded by rumors where it is easily possible to hide the truth and every intension behind just words, construct a lie or well-adjust an alibi; it is anti-Professor Black repellent, if you will.

The man doesn't believe rumors however grim these might be, he clearly needs evidence. It didn't work with Professor Weasley though when she had enough of the speculation, and Professor Sharp agreed to assist Fig in his goblin inquiries despite Fig's inconceivable statement of them working with Rookwood, of all people.

In other words, I'm interested to see the events unfold as if in the book or just simply going one after another. Hope it does make sense; in some other words more, the idea of looking at the plot or the fabula from different standpoints, of professors for example, is just right up my street. Which means, SPOILER ALERT.

It would be also interesting to see a timeline, somewhat clear. Forever can last popping balloons in Kogawa's assignments but if it all can be pinned to a specific day, I'm chasing after that goal.

It immediately becomes connect-the-dots but it's a fun little game outside the actual game; interpretations can be discarded or seem to lay down perfectly, I am still an unreliable enough and ornery narrator to be fully believed in any of my Inquires.

Can't keep it all for myself though!

（ ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)つ━━✫・*。

I am not sure where to start, truly. I'll continue on the supposed restricted areas perhaps?..

First and foremost, MC can access the Restricted Section repeatedly after breaking in with Sebastian because she still has the key:

I'd better not let Madam Scribner see me trying to get in here. I still have the key. The key will help me get back in here.

The game does also hint that MC is either sneaky -- and she admits it herself -- and or if the cause is any way noble…

That's being said, when Professor Weasley is asking to discuss ongoing matters with MC during her assignment quest, she will hint she does know more than she lets on about MC's activities and that some of them she is likely to excuse or ignore entirely.

There are two particularly interesting quests to root for: Professor Weasley's Assignment and Polyjuice Plot. As this is the starter post and it is already taking a long walk, I will not go too deep until it is winter in-game but, I must say: these two quests deserve a post of their own.

For now, what matters is, if MC is as free-to-go as it may seem in the game.

Professor Weasley's Assignment starts right after Fire and Vice, a quest where MC unbeknownst continues to weave the chain of events tied to Rookwood's poaching empire's eventual collapse.

Accepting the quest under dim evening sun at the edge of the Forbidden Forest, MC and Poppy leave the Horntail Hall uninjured at dusk, freed the dragon, and are to return to the castle by the late evening with its egg fortunately saved from poachers -- or not so late, as it is the midst of the winter and nights are starting much earlier than in autumn in the Northern hemisphere. However. By the time MC returned, Hall of the Keepers can be heard in the halls; it is late, nearly nightfall. Important note: I do not use floo powder at all.

Professor Weasley is yet to know about the Horntail Hall or of its destruction's deathly consequences, but what she does know is that MC has been busy this year.

First, caught up with peers! And also, helped Mr Olivander (she mentions The House Quests only this time around)? Captured a unicorn (the other two things: an impressive Edurus Potion and Venomous Tentacula)? Protecting such a rare of beast…

Said beast can only be found on the single patch of land deep in the Forbidden Forest.

It doesn't matter if you didn't, wouldn't or couldn't capture one before Hazel the Unicorn; it is possible to have a unicorn in a vivarium from as early as October, and Professor Weasley will know because Deek tells her what MC does in the Room.

Just the very possibility to know how she'd react is what's needed here.

Professor Weasley knows MC ventured into the Forbidden Forest but notice, she doesn't scold MC nor deduces any house points. I believe, in her book, it is wholly justified by the very fact MC stepped inside it to save a rare creature from the poachers. Thus, MC had the good reason and wasn't goofing around?.. I can only guess Professor Weasley's take on this might be, er, Professor Fig-free motives are at least MC's own and could be excused due to mischief rather than Eleazar's enigmatic schemes.

I don't ask many questions, too. Or I'd stuck asking professor Garlick why wouldn't Leander field test the cabbages, or pester professor Sharp with something like, why is the Stench of the Dead being even available at the store, not to mention lively afterparties nearly everywhere, even Keenbridge's cemetery is infested with inferi, and it's a lovely little hamlet full of locals and travellers alike!

Which is why The House Quest mentioned out of suspicion such an adventure could had possibly been orchestrated by Professor Fig. It's kinda hilarious to think the man was up to things ranging from innocently weird (feed that toast to the Cracken!) to wicked at its purest (visit Azkaban? sure np ready when you are!) for Professor Weasley to immediately assume Eleazar tasked MC with something peculiar while he is away.

He, in fact, didn't, but who knew a quest to find missing pages could align with seemingly ordinary request from an old craftsman. MC, however, elucidates the already present suspicion, nervously rambling, how she is either fascinated by the wandlore or ghosts, or was intrigued by Professor Sharp's auror badge (to ask someone other than him about the very Programme he could had been assigned to help running should he stayed at the Ministry), or found Scrope a perfect guide for the little cave tour.

Nothing else is specified, therefore I assume, MC was either sneaky and hid the trails well or stayed out of trouble when possible; a loose one but, she wouldn't want to visit certain areas without a friend by her side (notably the arena east of Keenbridge or any of the quest-locked dungeons).

However.

MC can move an entire herd of unicorns in the Room of Requirement but what were MC's other reasons to sneak in the Forbidden Forest?

That's what Professor Weasley confronted Professor Black with during the Polyjuice Plot, likely hinting, that Fire an Vice aftermath caught her attention. Moreover, Natty's abduction, too; the whole school knew it was MC who rescued Natty that night, including the faculty, because Professor Onai told everyone. And to count, Sebastian's triptych searches all around Ranrok's Loyalists outposts, and Lodgok's requests. All these quests are tightly placed together, taking a time windows of roughly two weeks, which, again, is a lot to take in and prepare for, and this time, stay out of sight of everybody in the valley wasn't exactly a possibility any longer.

MC wasn't just exploring or innocently wandering around the valley, pulling the wand out when it's truly necessary. MC has gotten herself in a big trouble lately, the trouble she really shouldn't engaged with; fighting such dangerous people back is deeply concerning; and what's worse, it all might be a part of Professor Fig's plan, whatever it could be.

What gives, -- falsely or not, doesn't matter, the miscommunication is on Fig -- are two things:

Professor Fig's research and interest in goblins are tied to Miriam's death and MC is somehow knitted in in the whole story;

MC is a little bit too hesitant when her motives are suggested or implied to be anyhow connected to Professor Fig's interests.

To conclude, the situation also doesn't make much sense for a bystander, as everything about Fig only does when he explains not the dots themselves but why would he connect them exactly like he does.

Polyjuice Plot is still a shitpost though, WHY WOULD YOU KEEP BLACK'S HAIR WHAT DO YOU MEAN 'PREPARED' LIKE FOR WHAT EXACTLY don't @ me im losing it like sharp did but -- that's exactly the thing Fig would consider a viable option. Either because he can, or he thinks, risking it all than to allow any unnecessary number of people see even a tiny bit of what's he is up to this time is totally worth it.

And MC does it as well! Example.

To access the Restricted Section, she could've asked any of the known professors at a time for, perhaps, an advanced read on something? Students are supposed to learn more than what's in their assigned textbooks, especially and presumably, in DADA or in Potions.

She is brewing the Thunderbrew Potion and Professor Sharp encouraged to learn ingredients themselves, and that one specific to Thunderbrew is the Stench of the Dead. A part of a corpse, an inferius. Dark magic stuff. DADA class topic.

The book about inferius must belong to the Restricted Section of the Hogwarts library. Thus, a good reason to ask for a pass; reaching the Athenaeum then would be incredibly easy, besides, the way back leads in the library! The only suspicious person would be madam Scribner but it'd be easy to pull a stunt like 'sorry i got curios and fought with a book within itself, AN EXPERIENCE DARESAY'.

Even Professor Sharp is concerned, somewhat, although he says that one line when Fig is chosen as a companion, I hope you know better than to let Professor Fig take you on one of his foolhardy adventures.

That's why at least a simple warning on screen, that MC is heading somewhere she shouldn't be, yes that's crude but, would only add to an immserion and dissolve the illusion of the free-to-go and go-where-she-pleases. And it's already there! MC points things out, sometimes; I insisted on something more apparent, however, but.

It's fine as it is now because imagine a sign forbidding to go to somewhere, or a message stuck on the screen, -- and then, no repercussions, nothing, at all, ever happening for trespassing somewhere.

I'm just being grumpy here, pardon me.

TLDR; MC is supposed to explore places and educate through adventuring but visiting restricted areas or trespassing is frowned upon. Another example of this would be Venomous Tentacula Hogsmeade Dude quest, after which Sirona reminds MC of what she's done (regardless of option MC actually chooses; handing the guy a tentacula of your own doesn't help, it still will be assumed MC stole it).

TLDR; When MC disguised as Professor Black says, I've decided to give him a bit more, er, leeway with his time., Professor Weasley is done with Black altogether and decides to take everything under her control. That's why she didn't leave for the Christmas break, perhaps other Professor stayed after her notice, too (I gave my own hcs here a leeway). That's why Fig tells MC, Professor Weasley has been keeping an eye on me. Perhaps we should meet there so she has no reason to raise concerns with Professor Black.

Unbeknownst to both of them, and that of everyone else, MC sort of kept everyone in the castle when it was most needed: Ranrok will attack Hogwarts shortly before the term resumes, in early January.

TLDR; Professor Black is very likely to excuse MC a lot of things as in the books, he admired bravery, and MC put up no cowardly fight -- she was rather noble saving all the people around her, helping them, dealing with the Final Repository, selflessly.

I found documenting the details like this fascinatingly engaging, although, I must warn: 0) I refer to MC as to her; 1) I do let my hcs go-be-free, to indepth? is it even a proper word deepen? things narrative-wise as they go; 2) originally, I planned all of this to address the lack of sense of time in the game; 3) and it all was and is needed for a rather huge fanfic I will eventually write, hopefully; 4) it's about mentor!Sharp, the man is fun and secretly a softie, it is an obsession and I surrender; shout out to all sharpies out here, you all do magnificently. 乁(✿ ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)و

To capture this and many more, I started this little series. It promises to be a long one, too, as in my primary language I have 27 of them I believe.

As a bonus, what MC's first week felt like:

September 1, 1890, Monday: dragon attack | Gringotts | NO FEAST AFTER THE SORTING CEREMONY? Professor Black, you're very unpopular for a reason | Sleep!

September 2, Tuesday: Professor Weasley Thinks Somebody's Being Sus (and she is EITHER completely baffled by the ruin exploration part of the story she didn't know about and ready to inquire further OR she suspects MC and Fig rehearsed the supposed talk with her; not to mention the sense of distrust between Weasley and Fig, I'm ansgty about their friendship and might have an idea what led them apart) | some classes | troll attack | Rookwood's hunt for MC began here; thus, MC's reputation for fearlessness | Sleep!

September 3, Wednesday: free space | I mean, it is really just Crossed Wands and Incendio Spell kind of a day | MC breaks in the Restricted Section along with Sebastian in the late evening that day (he doesn't refuse because he is genuinely intrigued by MC)

September 4, Thursday: Professor Sharp is on our investigation carriage, too! (likely, he knows MC was in the Restricted Section last night because MC starts the convo with Fig BEFORE Sharp leaves the office lol; also, if MC stands somewhere in his field of view, THE MAN DOESN'T CARE EITHER HE IS LOOSING IT) | some classes again | Professor Sharp Thinks We're Good But We Need a Safe Space of Our Own to Practise (hinting, he might be aware of the Room's existence) | MC and Natty are chatting in the evening outside the Lower Hogsfield; Mrs Treadmill claims she was never ambushed so close to the castle ever before in her life

September 5, Friday: free space | Garreth's plan to 'acquire' dried billywig stings leads MC to Hogsmead through the secret passageway | Followed Olivander's request to the Owlery, MC searched for the clues to the little jackdaw mystery, to later on met Jackdaw's ghost in the Forbidden Forest | Map Chamber has been opened that night

September 6, Saturday: Flying Class | Sharp's Assignments | Imelda's First Time Trial | Sebastian offers MC Undercroft, MC offers him, 'ohhi seb i wield ancient magic dunno what does it even mean idk ikr', or 'nah some pages were missing sorry'

September 7, Sunday: Professor Weasley would have liked MC to have her own study to get up to speed. Thus, MC joined the Room Club: 1) Fig knows because he comments on the increasing beast population and the only source on this is Professor Weasley because Deek tells her everything MC does in there (unicorn, tentacula); 2) Weasley knows because she herself used to study in the Room; 3) Sharp most likely in the know, too, because -- I'm letting a hc-based theory out! -- what if these two notes in the Room of the Hidden Things were written by his former classmate and himself; the fireplace note, from the classmate T., and it starts with A., wonder who that might be, I found curious and telling: the note is lying near a fireplace with some potion bottles on top of it and cauldrons stacked up on the side; bathtub one is funny because, if you think about disposing a failed batch and ask the Room for a second opinion, what should you really expect from it. Cheeky thing.

Wholeheartedly adore the default Room's design; it is composed of potions, cauldrons and some ingredients. MC remembered Sharp's words! ( ͡° ل͜ ͡°) Moreover, I noticed but still might be wrong, Sharp's other dialogue about on why he came to Hogwarts is available after the Room has been opened, as he is certain now MC does have an empty cauldron waiting for her somewhere | Professor Fig returned in the evening.

The Next Week: free space | remaining side-quests (A Demanding Delivery, Absconder Encounter, The Daedalian Keys, Kogawa&Garlick Assignments, Follow the Butterflies)

13-14 of September, to give MC some breathing room: The First Trial

I'll say, exhilarating, but with sleep schedule possibly ruined by nightly ventures..? homework to be done..? establish a pace between the school and adventuring..? duelling looks stunning and elegant but all these moves require a good physique, which MC has, but still it can leave MC exhausted after a while..?

Now, that's exasperating!

Alrighty. I'm over by now.

Do slam that ask button if you want. I sit screaming since February and while I'm potted, I can at least woe comprehensively about things.

[firequeenofficial]

Sunflowers can really spread far in seven months. They now covered the whole server, from one corner of his prison's borders to the other.

Never one to sit still, Scar had repaired his house, then the others' as well. The Scotts and Tots' base looked better than ever (in his opinion), Bdubs' world was back to how it was before he'd burned it down (he really did love it, he'd always admired Bdubs' work), he'd even rebuilt Grian's stupid egg, even though the man had only lived there for a short while.

He spent more time than he'd ever admit at that egg. Something about it, about being surrounded by something Grian had made tickled something in the back of his mind. He'd felt it since the moment he'd arrived in this world - and something told him he'd felt it before, more than once. Like he was missing something, like he'd forgotten something, or someone, important. Some part of him thought if he stayed here, in Grian's egg, where the sensation was strongest, maybe he'd be able to remember it.

---

Grian missed him. He had his own Scar in Hermitcraft, of course, but... it wasn't the same. There was something about the death loops, the urgency, that made his time with Scar feel different, somehow.

But that was gone now, and wouldn't come back for a while. The latest loop had taken a lot out of him, and he needed time to refresh before he could set up the next one. He knew that time was important, he knew the best thing to allow it to come sooner was to rest, to focus on Hermitcraft and his friends there. And yet, he felt himself drawn back time and again.

Finally, after a long session fishing - which was working wonders for his power regeneration, by the way - he gave in to the urge. What harm could a small jump do? It wasn't like he was making a whole new world for this excursion, and he was only going to walk around a little bit, maybe lie down in his, Etho's and Cleo's base, perhaps he'd even sit in the Secret Keeper's shadow for a moment.

It wouldn't take long.

---

Scar spent a lot of time, when he wasn't building or farming, screaming at the Secret Keeper to let him out. It never listened, of course. Only stared with that cold, uncaring face, the symbol carved into the stone glowing slightly. No matter how many times he hit the succeed, fail or reroll buttons, it only ever gave him the same result - a task book reading, "Win Secret Life". And no matter how many he insisted that he had won, that he'd killed the few allies he'd managed to keep, that he was alone and scared and he wanted to go home, wherever that was, it never cared. It never changed.

That was where he was now. Curled up against the fail button, throat raw and eyes red. And always, always, that knowledge that something was wrong, that someone who meant something wasn't here.

He was just preparing to get to his feet, ready to trudge back to Trader Scar's - what a laughable name that was now - when that cursed symbol started glowing a bright purple.

Scar yelped and scrambled back, heart pounding. The glowing grew and grew until he was blinded. And with the glowing, a pulsing sound that pressed in on his ears like the air pressure had suddenly skyrocketed. He clapped his hands over his ears, groaning.

Whatever was happening, he was sure it couldn't possibly be good.

Then it stopped. The glowing, the pulsing, everything. Scar tried to blink the blackness from his eyes, tried to shake the ringing from his ears.

Just as he started getting some hearing back - but still very little sight - a wonderfully familiar voice said, "You're still here?"

---

Grian should have known it was a bad idea. He should have known better than to return to the scene of his latest crime. The other Watchers would have his wings if they knew he'd done this, but until the very moment he arrived, he hadn't cared.

Then he saw Scar.

He looked so much worse than when he'd last seen him - or this version of him. His cloak was torn and wrapped around his waist, revealing a half-open shirt that was simultaneously dirty and sun-bleached. His shoes were gone, his trousers clumsily hacked off halfway down his calves, leaving his feet and ankles bare and unprotected. He'd lost his beloved hat during the loop, yet Grian still pictured Scar with it; it was still gone. In it's place were flowers - sun flowers, the same as the plants that stretched as far as they eye could see. At his waist were more flowers. Not sunflowers. Poppies and lavenders. And every part of uncovered skin - which was quite a lot - was bright red. Grian hadn't seen Scar this sun-burnt since...

No. He wouldn't think about that. He couldn't think about that.

Looking at him now, it was clear Scar had given up caring. Of course he did, why wouldn't he. There was no one left to care for.

Scar was blinking blindly in his direction, not seeing him, and rubbing his ears like they hurt.

The question fell from his lips before he could stop it. "You're still here?"

Stupid question. Obviously he was still here.

Grian felt sick. It had been months. Stars, Scar - playful, cheeky, funny, amazing Scar - had been here, all by himself, for more than half a year.

This was his fault.

He should have turned around and left before he could do something stupid. Instead, he found himself rooted to the spot, staring at the man who had once meant so much to him, the man he had missed so much more than he could ever admit to anyone, even himself. He couldn't move, couldn't leave. Couldn't do anything other than stare.

---

It hadn't rained since he'd killed Pearl. The storm that came with that final lightening strike was over quickly, and the sun hadn't stopped shining since, except when the moon that usually brought some sort of comfort came out to stare uncaringly down. There were never any clouds, any wind was a light breeze at best, and the nights were almost as sweltering as the days.

Something about that was familiar - just on the edge of memory, on this side of forgetting. And yet, he couldn't reach it as hard as he tried.

He'd tried to bring rain. He'd died so many times since he'd lost Pearl, but the lightening never struck, the rain never came. He just woke up in his bed, as dry and burnt and alone as ever.

And now that voice. That damned voice. It made his heart stop cold, even as it soared.

What was he doing here? How did he get there? This shouldn't be possible. He couldn't be here. Not after so long. He was just imagining things, his desperate mind making up the one person he wanted to see more than anyone else.

And yet, as his vision finally started returning, there he was. Grian. Staring at him like he was seeing a ghost, a pair of large coloured wings at his back, his sweater whole and clean and not at all like the tattered thing he was wearing when Gem had killed him.

(He'd never tell anyone that he had saved that sweater when he'd buried Grian alongside all his other friends.)

But still, even looking so different, there was no denying that this was Grian.

That stupid feeling pushed forward even further. He was missing something. It was starting to drive him insane.

Finally, he found his voice, "Grian?"

"Scar," Grian breathed.

Scar felt like he could cry. He'd been alone for so long, and he felt like if he made the wrong movement or the wrong sound, Grian would disappear again. He didn't know if he could abide any more isolation, not after even this short moment of companionship.

But then his body took over, and he was crawling, then heaving himself to his feet, then running. He threw his arms around Grian, picking the smaller man up and spinning him around, so relieved to see someone else that all restraint went out the window.

Grian's wings flared as he let out a yelp that was almost more of a squawk, and Scar hurriedly put him down.

"How are you here?" he asked. Now that he'd made the first move, all the fear of doing or saying the wrong thing went out the window.

"I-" Grian just blinked up at him, unable to form a full sentence. "I don't-" He swallowed, then tried again. "It's... a long story."

And Scar found he didn't care about the non-answer.

"How- how have you been?" Grian asked, then pulled a face, like he knew it was a dumb question.

Scar thought about that one, wanting to give the most honest answer he could while still making light of the situation. He couldn't say he was good or fine or alright, because he was far from all three. He couldn't say he was coping, becuase he didn't think screaming at a statue could be classed as coping. He couldn't say he was busy, because he'd finished all the work there was to do. Finally, he settled on, "I'm alive."

Grian flinched, like he'd hurt him.

Something was off.

---

"I'm alive," Scar said.

And Grian couldn't help but flinch. Because he still saw Scar dead at his feet when he slept. He still saw splashes of red whenever he saw sand. He still struggled to even punch Scar while acting normal.

He could only be grateful Scar couldn't remember that. A small comfort, knowing Scar would never look at him and hate him for that moment that made Grian hate himself so often.

Scar was looking at him like he was trying to figure something out. His everpresent smirk seemed strained. Finally, he admitted, "Something's wrong."

"What is it?" Grian asked, because he couldn't think straight enough to come up with a different response.

"I don't know. That's the problem." Scar started pacing up and down in front of him, seemingly unbothered about the Secret Keeper staring down at them, listening to every word. "I've just had this feeling ever since Pearl... since I won. Like I'm missing something. Someone. From a past life. But I don't know who."

Grian's heart clenched.

Scar was right. Something was very wrong. Scar should have been transported back to his own world after he won, just like all the others. But besides that, he shouldn't have been regaining his past memories like this. He was only supposed to retain the memories of this loop, not the others.

He shouldn't have been able to remember Grian, even if he didn't know it was Grian he was remembering.

He tried to think of something to say, but Scar pushed on, like he'd been waiting to say this for a while.

"I can't remember who it is, I can't remember anything about that, but I know they were there. I know they're not there anymore. I lost them, and I should remember but I can't. I can't remember their laugh or their voice or their smile or their face or their clothes.

"I don't even remember what they were to me! Were we friends? More? Less? Did we hate each other? Did we even know each other? We must have, right? We must have known each other, for me to feel like this, but I don't know!"

The more Scar spoke, the more frustrated he became, and the fast he paced.

"I don't know if they were a man or a woman or something else! I don't know if we spent every second together or only a few! I don't know their name or how they looked at me or how I looked at them! And the more I think about it, the more it makes me mad!

"And the more I think about it, the more I think... someone took them from me. Not just the person, but the memories. Someone stole my memories of this person, of a lifetime I know I had but can't reach. They're there, they're right there, I can feel them, but I can't get to them and it's driving me insane! I want them back! I want my memories back! I want my person back!

"All I remember is waking up in the stupid world with everyone else, but there has to have been something before that, right? That can't be all there is! But I can't remember, and I want to, but I can't!"

Scar paused for breath, and Grian took the moment to whisper, "No. You don't."

Scar stopped short. He stopped pacing, almost stopped breathing.

He saw the moment the words registered in Scar's brain, the fear and confusion and desperation, and the beginning of anger.

"What do you mean?" Scar asked, his voice trembling and uncertain, like he wasn't sure he wanted to know the answer.

Grian looked away, not meeting his eyes. He turning instead to stare up at the Secret Keeper.

Why? He silently asked the statue. Why would you do this to me? Why are you punishing me like this?

The Secret Keeper, of course, remained silent.

"What did you mean by that, Grian?" Scar pushed.

Without turning, Grian said quietly, "Those memories were taken for a reason. They're not... you don't want them. Trust me."

"You took them." It wasn't a question, and Grian didn't know how he'd made the leap, but he didn't ask.

Instead, he just looked down, his back still turned away. "Yes."

And then Scar was screaming. "How could you do that?! How could you do that to me?! I thought we were friends!!"

"Exactly. I- I didn't want that to change. I didn't want to lose you. If you knew everything I'd done... I couldn't do that to you."

Grian couldn't see Scar's face, but he could picture it just fine, just like he could picture all of Scar's expressions. He could see in his mind's eye the way Scar's eyes widened, the way his smirk fell as he bared his teeth, the way his eyebrows furrowed. He could see the way Scar unconsciously curled his hands into fists and the way he rose up onto the balls of his feet. He wished he didn't know all of this as much as he did. He hated himself for deserving it.

"Give them back!" Scar shouted. "Give them back, they're mine! You have no right to take them! What, just because you were scared?! Because you couldn't face whatever tiny mistakes you made?!"

"They... they weren't exactly tiny. I had to wipe everyone, it was the only way. If you remembered... it would have been too much for you. I was trying to protect you."

"Look at me," Scar ordered, his voice dropping to a growl. When Grian didn't move, he went back to screaming. "LOOK AT ME!"

Slowly, Grian turned, letting Scar see the tears in his eyes, the way he couldn't lift his gaze off the floor, the way his hands and feet and wings were never still for longer than half a second. It didn't seem to alleviate his anger at all, of course not. Grian hadn't expected him to.

"Give them back," he snarled. "I don't care what you did, or what anyone else did. I want to remember." His voice broke. "Please."

And finally, finally, Grian met his eyes. Swallowed once. Twice. He didn't want to hide anything from Scar, but the thought of what the other man would do if he knew everything, if he remembered what he was to him... it terrified him. But the sight of Scar like this hurt him even more. So he whispered, "I'm sorry," and raised a hand.

---

It was so overwhelming, having so many lifetimes' worth of memories rush into his mind all at once. He staggered back, gasping, and the back of his legs hit the reroll button. He grasped the stone the pillar letting it keep him up as images flashed across his eyes.

A desert. A mountain. A bamboo sanctuary. A clock tower.

A bee. A horse. A giant cat. A llama.

Grian in a poncho over a white shirt. Grian in a torn sweater with a necklace of hearts around his neck. Grian with sugarcane in his shirt pocket. Grian in a black leather jacket and sunglasses.

Grian. Everywhere. Everything. He was... everything.

Grian. This whole time, it was Grian - his Grian - that he was missing.

Grian standing in the desert. Grian standing at the foot of a tower. Grian standing at the top of a wooden cake. Grian standing at the end of a wheat-covered bridge.

Grian with bloodsoaked hands around Scar's neck. Grian with an extra life he'd stolen from Scar. Grian losing both their lives for nothing. Grian shoving his sword into Scar's back.

Grian telling everyone not to trust him. Grian seeking him out for fights. Grian cheating on him with BigB. Grian breaking their alliance.

Grian turning on his over and over and over again.

And yet.....

Grian taking care of him and protecting him. Grian seeking him out to hang out with. Grian trying to keep Scar alive and healthy. Grian choosing him and his family to ally with.

Grian smiling at him. Grian laughing with him. Grian holding his hand as they ran from enemies. Grian giving him their resources to trade with. Grian patching him up after a battle. Grian's voice. Grian's face. Grian's hands. Grian's clothes. Grian's wings - Scar remembers those now.

"Do you see why I wanted to keep these from you?" Grian whispered.

Scar looked up at him - oh stars, he hadn't realised just how much he'd missed him - and saw him refusing to meet his eyes again.

He didn't know what to think. All those horrible things Grian did. All those amazing things he did. How was he supposed to weigh them against each other? How could he know which was bigger? Which was more important?

"There's one more thing," Grian breathed, closing his eyes like he couldn't bear to see Scar's reaction to the next revelation. "I- It's my fault. That you're here. That everyone keeps coming here. These loops... they're my fault."

Scar's heart sank. Oh. "Why?"

"I just... I wanted to see you all." Grian admitted. "I wanted to... I don't know. I wanted to see you. Not just like in Hermitcraft, but... it's different, here. I can let myself care a bit more, because it's only for a short time, and everyone's just going to forget anyway. It doesn't matter."

"It doesn't matter?" Scar thought of the desert, their desert. He thought of his Jellie-panda sanctuary. He thought of his mountain house and his clock tower. He thought not only of Grian, but of Joel, of Pearl, of Cleo and Bdubs and Etho. His friends, his family. And now that he remembered them, he missed them even more than before. Maybe that was what Grian meant when he said he was trying to protect them. But... "How can you say that? Of course it matters! We matter! You can't just erase us and pretend it never happened!"

"I could never pretend it never happened! Trust me, if I could, I would! If I could wipe my own memory, make it so I couldn't remember any of it either, I would do it in a heartbeat!"

That took Scar back. He hadn't expected that at all.

"You think it's fun, seeing my friends die, over and over again in my sleep?" It was Grian's turn to go on a roll now. "You think it's fun not being able to go in a desert again? You think I want to feel like I'm going to be sick every time I see a panda, or a spyglass, or a long field of wheat, or a path in the sky?

"I wish there was another way to get you all together that doesn't end in all of us dead, but there isn't! At least this way, we respawn. At least this way, we can keep seeing each other again.

"I tried another way - trust me, I tried. I just barely managed to shut it down in time, before They destroyed it. I came this close to losing everyone permanently. I won't risk that again. This is the only way."

He trailed off. It almost sounded like he was trying to convince himself, more than Scar.

"Who are They?" Scar asked softly.

Grian stiffened, then glanced over his shoulder at the Secret Keeper. Scar looked too. Did its symbol glow brighter? Was it humming softly? Did it seem almost... alive?

"Let's get out of here," Grian said instead of answering.

"Oh." Scar just stood there watching him for a second, his mind whirling too fast for him. Eventually, he managed to offer, "We can go to my base."

"I actually meant a little further." Grian managed a small smirk. "Are you ready to go home?"

The words were like the finest music to his ears. He glanced over his shoulder at the massive sunflower field the world had become, then grinned. "I'm so ready."

---

The Watchers would have his wings for taking this punishment for the crime of caring and making something good from it, but he didn't care.

Scar knew who he was. He knew what he was. He knew what he'd done. And he didn't hate him. He still wanted to be his friend. Maybe, with time, he'd be willing to attempt more.

But for now, Grian was happy with this.

He took Scar's hand, his heart soaring at the smile the other man gave him, and flapped his wings, dragging them both through the multiverse.

Back home.

~

This turned out a lot longer than I originally planned it, but man was it fun. Thanks to the wonderful @kays-artstuff for the idea and for deciding I was worthy to give it life! Everyone go check out the amazing animatic that inspired this! Scar's appearance came from Hoffen's wonderful skin after Scar posted the tweet that altered my brain chemistry, go give them some love too!

[parad-ice-lostandfound]

Prompt: "You have a fever."

Pairing: Epel Felmier x Gn!Reader/Prefect/Yuu

Genre: Fluff

TW: NA

"Come on, (Name). Please? " Epel batted his eyelashes at you.

You sighed, tilting your head slightly as you looked at him. Fighting against the part of you that just wanted to coo at him and give into his demands was hard, but you managed to contain yourself. You remained silent, watching the shorter boy fidget under your intent gaze.

"Epel is smart," Vil had told you, days before he had to leave for some project. "Despite his hesitancy in using his beauty, he will employ it against you should he want something. He knows you well, Prefect. But you mustn't give in."

I mustn't give in, you chanted in your mind as you looked at Epel, who was growing more antsy by the minute.

"You've just recovered from that cold, Epel. I don't think it'd be a good idea to go out and play in the snow when it's not even been that long," you tried to get him to see reason. "Besides, I'm pretty sure Rook was instructed by Vil to keep an eye on you. If this gets back to him..."

"It won't get back to him!" Epel huffed, crossing his arms over his chest as he switched the puppy eyes for a pout. Sevens, was he aiming to persuade you, or to kill you?

"Vil's not here, and Rook's going to the mountains today–"

"Why?"

"– I don't really know, but that's besides the point. (Name), I'm bored. I've been stuck in my room for almost a week, I'm fine now! Besides, isn't it Vil who says going outside is good for your health?"

"He says that to have you join him when he's jogging," you hummed in amusement. "Also, who says I'll not snitch on you to Vil?"

Epel took a step closer to you, gently reaching out to hold your hand in his. A light tug, followed by a soft "Please...?" had you blushing and looking away. Epel tilted forward to catch the expression on your face while you tried to cover it with your free hand.

You mentally apologized to Vil for failing to resist Epel's charms. For someone who disliked being called cute or any synonyms of it, he sure knew how to wield his cuteness. And you were but a weak, weak human.

"Fine. Fifteen minutes," you said, trying to ignore the way Epel's face lit up with smug happiness. "Only fifteen minutes."

"I'll take that!" He smiled as he placed a quick kiss on your cheek, leaving you dumbfounded. The smile on his face quickly turned into a mischievous grin as he let go of you and turned, running out of his dorm yelling, "Last one out's a rotten egg!"

"Hey, not fair!" You yelled back as you chased him.

"You have a fever," Vil's voice rang out, a disappointed note to his words as he stared down at the thermometer in his hand. You squirmed in your place on Epel's bed, twiddling your thumbs. A quick glance to your side showed you an equally miserable and sick Epel mirroring your position.

"In our defense," you started, voice slightly croaky as you looked up at the Pomefiore housewarden, "we were out for only 15 minutes."

"And look what that brought upon the two of you," Vil deadpanned, looking very much like an exasperated mother as he made sure both of you were comfortable.

Rook stood silently in the corner of the room, not moving a muscle as he watched the three of you from where he'd been placed on timeout. His crime? Letting you two be unsupervised for an entire day. You felt bad for him, letting him know that with an apologetic smile in his direction, which he returned with one of his own.

"Honestly... I was away for three days, potatoes," he sighed, manicured hands carefully pressing a cold damp towel to your forehead, then doing the same to Epel. Neither one of you commented on his fussing, not wanting to get scolded any more than you already had.

"Now wait here while I go and brew you some medicinal potions."

"Uh, Vil we could just get some from the infirmary-"

"I said, wait here, like good little spudlings," Vil calmly stared at you, lips curling into a triumphant smile when none of you dared to make a sound in protest. "Good. Rook?"

The blonde in the corner turned his attention to his housewarden. "Yes?"

"Keep an eye on them."

Back to Masterlist...

[cevans-is-classic]

"You think you're all cool and mysterious but we both know if you removed your helmet you'd have no idea how to maintain eye contact."

He'd only been awake for ten minutes, and already you were having your morning rant.

Grogu followed you back and forth his ears wiggling as he mimicked your movements.

Djarin watched.

"I keep being told to 'control my face' whenever someone says something stupid, but I know, I know, you have no room to talk. You stand there with your hip propped, your armor all shiny, that helmet tipped to the side. You could be asleep! I know you've been asleep! Are you asleep now? Are you? It's early still."

Today is going to be one of those days.

Djarin held back a sigh, leaned down to pick up Grogu, "Morning to you too."

A withering look, "I've been awake for hours."

"Of course." He'd grown accustomed to you coming and going every few months.

Welcomed the times you could stay and thanked you profusely when you'd watch his homestead when they couldn't return for days.

Right now he's contemplating if he should have let Karga introduce the two of you.

"I had another dream."

That was something he'd never grow used to.

Grogu taught him what the force was. He'd seen the beauty of it — watched it be used to heal and save people as well as allow his son to reach the snacks he shouldn't be eating.

The force was the strongest hold the galaxy had and who could wield it — they were attuned to a way of life no other could understand.

Even with that knowledge he'd never knew there could be other — abilities.

Until you.

Until Karga called him to the main city and asked him to help protect you.

The dreams were a gift.

A gift that cost you pieces of your mind.

(That's what he believes anyway.)

"What kind of dream?"

Grogu settled in his chair, large eyes following Djarin as he put together a small breakfast for the youngling. He sat a bowl of broth in front of him, holding the spoon until Grogu grabbed it with a cooing frown.

"We talked about you trying." He pouted more but took the spoon.

"I saw a man."

"Ooo-ap." Grogu cooed again, reaching for the bowl of broth with his spoon waving towards it.

Djarin pushed the bowl closer, "A man?"

"He moved through many room. His person ever changing — a prince, a monster, a father, a villan — a man choked by smoke. He walked from face to face until they all blended together."

You once dreamt that a Fosibird would take flight over Nevarro — Fosibirds were extinct. Djarin assumed you'd exaggerated your dream and rolled your words off his shoulder.

The following week, a merchant purchased a Fosibird egg in attempts to create a statue of it, and as it laid in the hearth, the creature came to life.

He'd become weary of your dreams after that.

Learned what was prophetic and what was vivid telling of other people's lives.

Grogu finished his broth, the spoon still waving, while liquid dripped from his mouth.

Djarin felt his lips flatten out in an attempt at holding back laughter.

You used a cloth to wipe at his mouth and Grogu gurgled in response.

"What did you get from the dream?"

That had you standing still.

He'd once describe your eyes as a galaxy of their own. Far far away from where the rest of them stood.

Bo-Katan had rolled her eyes but he hadn't been attempting to flatter you. He'd been truthful about his thoughts.

"I dreamt it was you."

Grogu stopped waving the spoon and looked between the both of you.

"Of me?"

"Yes."

"Is that why you were mumbling about my facial expressions?"

A little frown furrowed your brow, "Yes. You have very expressive eyes — they tell a story."

"You don't know what my eyes look like."

For a moment he felt like that was a lie.

"Din Djarin," You took the spoon from Grogu and moved the bowl towards the sink, "I've never seen your face but I've seen you. Expressive eyes."

Djarin shook his head, "What if I don't have eyes?"

"I'm crazy not stupid. Oh, he threw up."

Grogu's mouth was covered in yellow colored spittle.

Djarin cursed rose and lifted his son from his chair to carry him to the sink, "You ate before breakfast didn't you?"

His large eyes darted to you and you shrugged, "I told you. I'd been up for hours."

Maybe you were right about his facial expressions. He knew if he didn't have his helmet on the look he was giving, he could kill with it.

The smile you gave him could bring others back to life.

Pedro Masterlist

Galaxy Eyes Masterlist

[theelkmaiden]

So I've been thinking.

If Captain Marvel is the Champion of Magic, does that mean he has to play by the rules of all magic? Demon, fea, pixie etc.? Because if you owe something to one of those, things tend to go wrong. Fae can take your children, pixies can make your life hell, demons can literally take your souls.

So what if Billy Batson, being the sweet boy he is, keeps doing people favours? Now, he'd never take a child or cause someone chaos, as that means actually interfering, but souls? That boy could definitely be having people sign their souls away to him and he has no idea.

The first time he did someone a favour after the wizard granted him his powers, Billy was overtaken by a surge of tingles that tasted vaguely of rotten eggs. The feeling only lasted a second, but he couldn't stop thinking about it for the rest of the day. All he did was help Old Linda from the block over carry a bag of food to her place of residence. That was it. But after the tingling, Billy felt like he was connected to her in some way, on a deep and intimate level that didn't make sense.

And then it kept happening.

Helping to paint his neighbours room. Helping a girls cat from a tree. Letting a lost child sleep in his abandoned apartment overnight.

And later, bringing Batman a coffee after a long mission. Teaching Green Arrow the basics of pickpocketing. Spotting Flash on his running form.

Anytime someone said "can I ask you a (quick) favour" the tingling and eggs would come and Captain Marvel had no idea what it was or why it happened.

That is.

Until Old Linda died.

It had been a long patrol for Captain Marvel. There was a crime wave almost every year around July, like clockwork. Mainly teenagers getting in with gangs and trying to prive their worth now that school was out (or, at least, that was Cap's theory).

He was just touching down near his building to transform when he felt an entirely unique sensation. The tingling he was so familiar with came crashing over him in a wave so intense the demigod found himself wobbling where he stood, garnering a few concerned stares by citizens. The part of him that had been connected to Linda had snapped into place and, without even having to doue check, Billy knew for a fact that Old Linda was dead.

He also knew where to find her.

Drawing on his magic, Captain Marvel opened a portal to a corner of the Rock of Eternity ans stepped through.

There, on the otherside, stood the kind old woman who would often give him food if she had any left over.

"Excuse me, sir?" She asked, looking rather fearful, "would you mind telling me where I am?"

With eyes already misting, Marvel closed the portal and stepped towards her with his arms out in a calming manner.

"Linda. I'm so sorry. You're in the Rock of Eternity. You shouldn't be here but I think it's my fault you are," he was swallowed thickly, putting every ounce of self control he had to the test to bit show how distraught he was with this development.

Clearly seeing his distress, Linda calmed and gripped the Captains arm in a consoling manner. "I'm sure it's quiet alright, dear. Why don't you tell me what happened and then you can return me home. And then you can explain to me all about this place, hmm?"

Her small smile fell when the captain did not immediately react to her request.

"Miss Linda," Billy tried, not feeling very much like a superhero at that moment I time, "I'm so so sorry! I shouldn't have helped you with the food. But I just wanted to do something good. And now you're stuck here forever and I don't know how to free you and there's so many people that are going to come here and I didn't mean to!"

The hulking form of Captain Marvel was now a kneeling, sobbing mess as the twelve year old realised what he had done. The feeling of rightness that sang in his magic at Linda standing within the Rock of Eternity. The pull of what he now knew to be souls pulling him in different directions. The fact that he had only been trying to help.

"Now dear," Linda kneeled next to him, patting his shoulder in confused concern, "I assure you I have no idea what you're going on about. I've seen you flying overhead and fighting monsters, but we've never met officially past today. But if I'm stuck here forever, then at least I'll have company. Now, come, dry your eyes and get up. You need to explain to me what's going on." The mum of four in her seemed to have taken over as she dragged the massive man up to his feet and the stood on her toes to wipe his cheeks with the sleeve of her cardigan.

Taking a deep breath, Captain Marvel nodded. "Miss Linda. You are dead. I'm sorry. I accidently own your soul and I don't know how to release you to go somewhere better. And you're only the first person that's going to arrive here. This is completely new for me and I'm not sure what to do. This place is my home so you are welcome to explore and make yourself comfortable. But it's not much."

The silence that followed was deafening as Linda contemplated her situation. It stretched on until a look of resolve made its way onto the old souls face.

"Okay."

"Okay? Is that it?"

"Well you are obviously very distressed so it was definitely an accident. But I am not staying somewhere that looks so dull for the rest of Eternity. You and I are going to be doing some redecorating. How big is this place?"

"Infinite."

"Then this shan't be an issue. We can build a lovely garden where we can all stay until you get this figured out. Besides, it'll give me something to do."

So, he did. Captain Marvel (who Linda learned to be Billy Batson) got to work and transformed a large section of the Cave into a garden, with strict directions from Linda.

Over time, more people joined and Linda took it upon herself to greet the newcomers and explain what had gone on. Many people were unhappy, but soon settled into their afterlife and making friends.

After awhile, Billy took Linda aside and granted her a Boon. One of her choosing. She chose "to be the peacekeeper of this little afterlife. I want to help comfort those here who miss their old lives. I try, I do, but a little magical help wouldn't go amiss." And so she became the Peacekeeper.

In the outside realm, when Captain Marvel explained to Batman, Green Arrow, and The Flash that he accidently owned their souls, well, let's just say that shitshow lasted a while.

[dragonmuse]

the ducks!! can we please hear more about jim and their duck collection?

(yes, yes you can!)

"And for you, Jim," Dolly set a little box into their hands.

Holiday gifts at the Boodharis were pleasantly simple. All three kids put money toward one big gift for Dolly (a new stand mixer this year which she'd been thrilled about, especially the cheery orange color) and Dolly would give out small thoughtful ones in return. The two grandchildren would get a few things, but there was a price limit. ("There's only so much room in the apartment!" Zuri would remind everyone each year.)

Oluwande had gotten a subscription to Make magazine which made his birthday gift easy this year. Jim already mentally bookmarked an intro to welding kit he'd like. Zuri had put in her new earrings right away and Ada was showing the kids how the bee-themed tea steeper would work.

In short, no one was looking at Jim and they got to open the box observed only by Dolly.

"Thank you," they said as they peeled off the tape.

"I found them when I was hunting around a mineral table for Oluwande," Dolly told them.

From tissue paper, Jim pulled a carved bit of amethyst just a little bigger than their thumb nail. The purple duck caught the light. Then two others even smaller in pink quartz. The little family setteled into Jim's palm.

"Oh," Jim lifted them to their eyes. "They're really detailed."

"Amazing what people can do, isn't it?"

"Thanks," they said again with more feeling. "They're great."

Stuffed full of food, ducks tucked carefully in their pocket and the lingering smell of baby powder and rosewater hugs on their clothes, Jim and Oluwande got on the subway. Oluwande was holding his magazine and bag full of leftovers.

"What'd Mom get you?" He asked.

"I'll show you when we get home. You like the magazine?"

"It's great," he nodded. "Wonder how she even found out about it? I'm going to give them to Pete after I'm done reading them, he'll love all the LED circuitry stuff. I know he wants to make that dress of Frenchie's programmable for light effects."

"Wonder if we could do something for the chainsaw."

"Roach would fucking love that. Good idea."

The apartment was well-warmed when they got in, taking the chill of the afternoon off them easily. After Oluwande slotted the leftovers into the fridge, Jim took the ducks out of their pocket and approached the little shelves.

They were only half full. Jim was picky about what they added and despite Ada's dire warnings, there hadn't yet been a gifting cascade. The salt and pepper shakers, along with the sugar bowl, sat on the kitchen table, too useful to get relegated to display.

Some of their favorites were on the top shelf, the most visible. There was the duck sitting on a comically large egg with a gobsmacked expression, the obsidian one with it's wings outstretched, one painted like a traditional china pattern with it's beak dipped in gold and one duckling carrying an umbrella.

There were only ten or eleven others, but Jim spent a few minutes carefully rearranging and then setting down the new acquisitions next to the obsideon one. They looked like they belonged together.

"Oh cool," Oluwande put a hand to their back, so he could lean in and look. "You like 'em?"

"Yes," Jim tapped the amethyst one gently. "Never seen one like it."

"Yeah, it's good when they're all unique."

"I got you something," they announced.

"Oh, I mean, you already got me the new shoes, I thought that was my gift."

"Those were for Teal. This is for you."

"You know I am Teal, right?" Oluwande laughed. "You don't have to do both of us."

"I wanted to."

They slipped out of his reach and went into the bedroom. They didn't really have to hide gifts from Oluwande, he was a weirdo who didn't go looking for them. They knew he'd taken to keeping their gifts at other people's houses which was annoyingly smart.

This was just an envelope anyway. They handed it to him without ceremony.

"Gift card?" he teased, opening it. They waited as he teased out the contents. "....Jim."

"Yeah?"

"How?"

"We can afford it," Jim shrugged. "I did the math, set aside tips for a bit.

"Longer than a bit."

"You said you wanted to go."

"I did. I do! This is awesome, really. How long?"

"A week. I already told Stede we were going, he's cool with it."

"Singapore...holy shit, we'll need hotels."

"Done."

"Done?" He blinked at them, then dug into the envelope and pulled out the itinerary that they'd carefully put together.

"You plan all our trips. I figured it was my turn."

"Day trips! This is massive. Holy shit!" He put the paper down and then drew them into a hug. They hugged him back smiling over hsi shoulder. "This is so cool! I haven't left the country in...forever and that wasn't far. This is going to be a real adventure."

"It's all real." They kissed his neck. "But yeah, it'll be a big one."

They were ready for that again. Oluwande made them want to take on the world.

[skylarstark4826]

The war hit everyone differently. Pansy included. At the last moment, she'd turned sides and saved Ron Weasley from an unexpected death. Upon finding this out, her family promptly disowned her. After all, a pureblood shouldn't be lowering herself to the standard of the Weasleys, even if it meant saving a life.

That was why Molly Weasley kindly accepted Pansy into her family's fold. Losing Fred has opened a gaping hole in her heart that no one could have predicted. By taking in Pansy, she could fill that hole by caring for someone who needed it. Pansy was ever so thankful, if slightly uncomfortable, after having been taught to hate the witch basically from birth.

It didn't take long for her to relax in her new life. Currently, Pansy was sitting at the breakfast table with Ron and Harry. Molly made them all eggs and toast before going outside to do some weeding in the garden. Harry was writing in a journal, and Ron was attempting to shine his broom. Pansy, however, was trying to figure out exactly how to tell Ron that her feelings for him had changed.

"Are you and Ginny going out tonight, or do you want to play a round of Quidditch after dinner?" Ron asked Harry, who looked up from his writing.

"I think we're going out, but I'm sure she'd much rather play Quidditch," Harry replied, causing Ron to laugh.

"Too right."

It'd been like this for months now. Pansy would sit nearly silent with Ron, and whoever else was in the room at the time. She'd say a few words here and there, but it was never enough. Over her time at the Burrow, she'd come to see Ron for who he was. He was loving and funny. Really funny. He made her crack a smile more than anyone ever had before. Pansy knew he had no idea of his smile's effect on her.

Even now, when she'd chuckled, he'd smiled warmly at her before returning to his broom. It made her stomach flutter and her heart race. She was falling for him more and more every single day. Since she saved his life and learned what genuine kindness could be, Pansy knew that Ron would be in her heart forever.

"I can't pretend anymore," Pansy finally managed to say aloud. Her hands were clenched in her lap as she waited for a response. She wanted to squeeze her eyes shut and disappear, but that wasn't going to happen.

"What?" Ron asked, lifting his head from his task. "What are you talking about?"

"This." Pansy gestured between them. "There's something here that I never expected."

Quietly, Harry got up from the table and slipped from the room unseen.

Ron set aside his broom to give Pansy his full attention, an act that only made her like him even more. She swallowed and tried to articulate her words more carefully. "I can't pretend I'm not falling for you, Ron. I know that seems incredibly out of character for me after everything from our past, but it's true." She'd rushed to say the last bit and felt her cheeks flame with embarrassment.

When Ron got up from the table, Pansy thought he would walk out, but he surprised her. Walking around the table, he crouched down and took her clenched hands. Then, unfurling her sweaty fingers, he intertwined his with them. Pansy watched with fascination and wonderment as he did so, hope spreading through her like fiendfyre.

"I've been wondering why you spent so much time with me," he said, his blue eyes alight. "I was hoping that it meant you liked me. Instead, George kept saying you were planning my demise."

Pansy laughed, relief making her feel high. "I saved you. Why would I want to end you?"

"That's what I told him," Ron said, chuckling. "Anyway, he told me not to get my hopes up. Since you saved me and came to live with us, I've fallen for you, Pansy. It's been hard to pretend that nothing was happening between us."

"So, no more pretending?" Pansy asked, her heart practically stopping as she eagerly awaited an answer.

"No more pretending." he agreed, smiling warmly.

Then Ron kissed Pansy, and all that was wrong with the world suddenly melted away.

[djtheabishai]

Simeon's Ultimate F. You(s) To The Celestial Realm

Warning!: Cursing, Gay relationships (Simebarb (I'm a sucker for the ship, bite me), Spoilers for Obey Me! One Master! Each time D.J. says "Fuck You!" she hold up her middle fingers

Things to know about my Obey Verse! for better understanding!! (Heads up, this is a long section, so if you wanna skip it, look for /\/\/)

Everyone in the cast but Luke is well aware of Simeon and Barbatos's relationship and plan to keep that way till the two feel he's ready handle the situation, but he is aware of Solomon and Asmodeus's relationship for it is less rattling and doesn't have much consequences.

D.J. is refered as "Half Dragon" because she takes after the dragon half and Brook is refered as "Half Demon" because she takes after her demon half.

Simeon raised D.J. from her egg till she was 8, so she calls him "Papa" time to time and in her phone. Barbatos raised Brook from an egg and D.J. since she was 8 and they both call him "Father" time to time with "Father" being in Brooks's phone and "Father Barb" in D.J.'s. River, their biological father, is known as "Dad" in Brook's phone and "River" in D.J.'s.

Simeon does become human, but since D.J. couldn't handle the thought of her Papa dying long long LONG before the time he's actually supposed to as an angel, her and Barbatos (no one knew him and Simeon were together at the time and felt the same as D.J. did) worked together to make Simeon a demon, with the fallen angel's concent. Luke's aware that Simeon's a demon and was against the idea at first, but realized he was happier as a demon. He'd still rather have Simeon as a guardian anyday rather than another angel, no matter who offered to step in as Simeon's replacement.

When it's just D.J., Brook and/or Simeon around, Barbatos is another person. He's more relaxed and will return some of the things D.J. dishes out as jokes, no matter how immature it may be.

Barbatos has always called D.J. and Brook, Diciria and Brooklyn while everyone else calls them by their prefered shortened names. When he calls them by their shortened names, they know he's serious.

D.J.'s name is short for Diciria (Die-Siri-Uh) Joyce. She only lets Diavolo, Lucifer and River call her by her middle name, Joyce (Diavolo: Lover, Lucifer: Only when she calls him "Luci", River: Biological Father, feels she owes him that much)

\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

Siting at a (connected) table in R.A.D.'s empty cafeteria, the Sins, Diavolo and the Purgatory Hall residents sat the table. Diavolo say at one end with D.J. say at the other end. Lucifer sat on Diavolo's right and it from eldest to youngest on the right side with Brook between Lucifer and Mammon. You sat on Diavolo's left, with Simeon, Luke and Solomon side them. Barbatos stood behind you, standing between Diavolo and Simeon. Scarlet was standing behind Brook. They all seem to be talking among themselves. Except for D.J..

The half dragon has her arms and legs crossed, shaking her foot back and forth, leaned back in her seat as comfortable as she can get with a lost in deep though frown on her face. Her glasses sat at the top of her nose.

Solomon looked over and saw her lost in thought. He grinned and slip over to her. "Hey, Diciria! Whatcha thinkin' about?" The sorcerer asked out loud, grabbing everyone's attention.

D.J. pushed her glasses up and glared at him for breaking her train of thought and just talking to her in general. "Don't worry about it." She told him. "Oh come on. You never tell us what's on your mind." Solomon said and a few people agree." Now that's a lie! I tell you what's on my mind but I don't have to tell y'all everything! Now what's currently on my mind can't be said in front of Luke, for it's not appropriate for what came to mind." She stated. " So if you want me to say what's on my mind, he'll have step out." The room seems to be wanting to know what's on the half dragon's mind.

Luke frowned. "Why do I have to leave!? I'm not a kid anymore! I can handle whatever you have to say!" He confronted his older sister. D.J. darts her eyes to Simeon. Their eyes met and the former angel sighed, having a gut feeling on what she'll be talking about and turns to the small angel. "Unfortunately she's right, you can not handle this situation yet. I'll walk out with you." He said and looks at his daughter. "I'll be back." He said and he walks an upset Luke out the room.

Barbatos looks at the half dragon. "If you're having Luke leave the room, then it must be something." "I'll wait till Simeon gets back before I say what's on my mind." She said.

After a couple a minutes, the fallen angel walks back in the room. "Sorry for the wait, I had to calm him down. He's watching Halloween Wars on my phone now." He looks at D.J.. " What'd you want to talk about?" He asked, walking up next to Barbatos and taking his hand. She could see the steward rub the back of Simeon's hand with his thumb.

"You, Simeon, done some ultimate "Fuck Yous" " She held up her middle fingers. "to the Celestial Realm as an angel." That caught everyone's FULL attention. Everyone but Lucifer and Barbatos looked surprised. Lucifer raised his brows and Barbatos closed his eyes and huffed out under his breath "Here we go.". Simeon's eyes widen, face paled and crush Barbatos's hand in a tight grip, making said demon flinch a bit. "Lighten up a bit." D.J. read off the demon's lips as he tried to lossen the grip on his hand.

"What made you come to that conclusion?" You asked. The half dragon looks at the fallen angel." I'm sorry if I go over board which I probably will, "She back looks at you.

"There was the time where he dropped ranks after The Great Celestial War. Don't remember what exactly he did for him to drop ranks but that had to a major "Fuck You!". She held up her middle fingers. "There was when he stole "The Ring of Light" which you currently have, to save not only you, but Lucifer as well, so that was another "Fuck You!" ." She said.

"But Luke knows that, why make him leave?" Simeon nervously asked. "Because I'm not done." She told him.

"Now, follow me on this. The Celestial Realm forbid romantic relationships among humans and demons. Friendship was fine, but not romantic relationships. They also forbid gay relationships as well. Same for sexual intercourse" She pointed out. " Well, guess what Simeon did? Now, he's with a demon, but not just any demon, oh no, no, no, he's with one of most powerful demons in the Devildom, next to Lord Dia. He's with Barbatos . So that's a "Fuck You!" because he's a with demon, but it's also a "Fuck You!" because he's pretty much saying "Try to touch me now bitchs!!" with or out realizing it because Barbatos is a extremely powerful demon at that! But another "Fuck You!" is because Barbatos is a male and they, like I said, disapprove of gay relationships."

Simeon had his face in his other hand but was red at his point. Not with anger. But with embarrassment and humiliation. Barbatos looks over at his lover and frowns. He squeezes his hand to get his attention. Simeon looks up and turns his head to his lover. Though he wasn't crying, his eyes did tell it was hitting him hard. It was a painful reminder of he did to get what he currently has.

What really hit the fallen angel harder than any other thing she mentioned was the "Come and get me now!" sentence his daughter spoke, hoping Barbatos doesn't overthink that particular part because it wasn't true at all. He wasn't using the demon's power and status as a barrier. He just love Barbatos for Barbatos and nothing more, nothing less.

Barbatos was already a bit annoyed that D.J. was listing these off, but knowing which part was troubling him, made him had enough. He knows damn well Simeon doesn't see him like that and will be damned even further if possible if he lets those thoughts continue. He looks at the half dragon and his voice was stern. "D.J., I think that's enough." He said. She looks over back at the couple and her eyes widen a bit and she silently gasps.

She saw Barbatos was now holding Simeon in his arms as the steward glared at her. "Oh fuck." D.J. mouth and guilt racked her. Hard.

"I.. I'm sorry Papa. I didn't know it would mess with you this hard. I was just telling what was on my mind." She quietly said. " Well something's are better off left unsaid." Barbatos told her.

He pushes Simeon back a bit and holds his lover's face in his hands. "I think it's time to go. I refuse to let you dwell on those thoughts. I don't know what you did to D.J. but you didn't deserve that." He said.

"J-Just a second. " Simeon spoke. He turns towards D.J.. "I know you meant no harm in what you said, but I don't need a reminder of I did. It was a harsh journey to get what I have." He told her. " Well. I was just trying to say is that, I admire you for pretty much telling The Celestial Realm to "Fuck Off"." The half dragon admitted. "I didn't realize it was that traumatizing for you." She finished. The fallen angel gave a small smile. "I know My Little Hatchling. I'm not upset with you. Just embarrassed you said it the way you did in front of everyone. But you know, Barb is right, something's are just better off left unsaid." He finished.

The half dragon quickly ran to the fallen angel and hugged him tight. Simeon hugged her back just as tight. "I love you Papa." She muttered into his shoulder. "I love you too, Diciria." He told her back.

The half dragon put her chin on the fallen angel's shoulder's and stuck her tongue out at her father, earning a few laughs from the table beside them. Barbatos raised his brow at her and if was just him, Simeon, D.J. and Brook in the room, he would've stuck his tongue back out at her.

[warmwonderful-1]

Amsterdam

A beautiful city, Amsterdam became the place where I learned all about BDSM. Learned how to deal with my pain and my guilt. I learned how to submit to another person's will. I who is not sure how this happened but it did. Somewhere in the back of my mind I knew I needed this.

Johannes older debonair very much a man of the world. It was pretty much loved young women. He took me under his wing. Treated me really nicely gave me gifts showed me all about Amsterdam and it's history. And led me to a point where I gave him everything. The first time he actually put hands on me it surprised me. He threaded his hands through my hair which was long at the time and pulled me into a kiss. At the time I was willing to give him that because he was showing me so much of the city and was so kind to me, soon became much more. I admit to being more naive than I thought I was. I don't remember exactly when the suggestion was made that I move into his flat but it seems like a good idea at the time.

Once I moved into the flat his demeanor changed. He had rules about living with him. It was a fairly small flat with only one bedroom. And I soon found out that I wasn't welcomed in his bed at night I slept on a pallet on the floor next to his bed. It was a small apartment admittedly. And at first he never made a move to force me into anything. We were sitting talking in the evening over a glass of wine. And I told him why I left the states. At that point things change again. His rules change they became more strict and he literally said that he would help me deal with my guilt. And so I entered the world of BDSM.

The night I told him my reasons for leaving the states, and he he told me he could help me. The next morning I woke up, after drinking way too much, I found myself with leather cuffs on both wrists and ankles. And they had locks. That morning after my initial shock and a certain amount of rebellion I received my first flogging. It was a shot to my system, but not the way you think. The shock was within me, and my reaction to being flogged. I felt free like I needed this. This was no light flogging that was done with a heavy flogger. He's going to teach me about my place in the world., And it started with a discipline flogging. I don't remember exactly how long I was strung up to the beams in his ceiling. All I know is that when he was done my shoulders my butt my legs my breasts were mass of welts. Sometime during the first flogging I think I passed out. But Johannes told me I never did pass out . My very first experience with subspace. During the days and weeks that followed I became the submissive. Taking care of all his needs, While he took care of mine.

My life became very routine. In the morning fun waking me up by my collar and fuck me. My wishes were never concerned during this but it never failed to turn me on. After that he took a shower and I got ready for my day. Breakfast is simple European style, coffee, some type of Sweet roll, soft-boiled egg, and fresh fruit. After clean up and before he left for work he would clip my cups together behind my back, send me over a chair and fuck my ass. And then he left me there. Any expected me in the same position when he returned home. If I wasn't in the same position My punishment would be worse. But I had a daily punishment anyway he would come home uncooked my hands allow me to go to the bathroom and then secure me again to the hooks in his ceiling. I received a flogging everyday sometimes it was sensual sometimes it was hard, but it always was there. We usually went out to eat in the evening. It always involved going to places where it was acceptable for someone to have a submissive or slave. It was nothing to have him pull down my top and take out my tits and fondle me in a room full of people eating dinner. This went on for 3 months. And at that point he decided that he'd had enough of me and let me go. At that point I was an emotional mess, but he didn't take everything from me he gave me back my clothes and my money and my passport and sent me on my way. But I was a drift and I left Amsterdam within a day. One thing he did give me was a list of people that would continue on in my training........

The next stop was Germany

[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.

[adamruz]

Where’s Adam?

Summary: The morning after Adam goes back to his undercover apartment. Some angst, but not between who you’re probably thinking.

Word Count: 1070

Note: This idea just came to me in one sitting a few weeks ago and I think it's the fic I've been the most nervous about posting. Plus I really need Makayla asking where Adam is in the next episode.

Almost every morning since Kim came home from the hospital, the kitchen was filled with Makayla's laughter and Adam rattling off the latest news stories, but this one was different. It was quiet. She was sitting at the table alone after her and Adam decided it was best for him to temporarily move out for Makayla's sake. She was also letting her daughter sleep in a bit later to avoid having the inevitable conversation for as long as possible.

Kim took the last sip of her coffee when her daughter stumbled out of her bedroom, rubbing her eyes.

"Good morning, Makayla."

"Morning Mom. Where's Adam?"

"Hey bud, come here. He's still caught up with work." Kim was going to use that excuse for as long as she could because she wanted to avoid telling her daughter the truth about him moving out for as long as possible because it would break her little heart.

Makayla's expression completely changed as she responded, "But you promised me he'd be here this morning."

"I know, I'm sorry, but come eat your waffles so we can get you ready for school."

Makayla took her seat with her arms folded and a frustrated look on her face. "No. I want scrambled eggs. You told me Adam would make them for me this morning."

"He'll make them for you as soon as he can. Please just eat this or you're going to be late for school." Kim said sternly as she walked to the bathroom because she didn't want to get any angrier at her or for Makayla to see the tears forming in her eyes. Kim's heart was breaking and she was starting to think that maybe she undervalued Adam and her daughter's relationship.

Makayla picked up her fork, just staring at her food for a few seconds before she heard Kim's phone ringing on the table. A picture of her and Adam flashed on the screen, so she immediately knew who was calling. "Hi Adam! Mom said you are still working, but I miss you."

Adam had to compose himself after being caught off guard because he was fully prepared to talk to Kim and ask her how Makayla slept through the night. "Hey Mack, I'm sorry but this work assignment is going to last a little bit longer." Adam hated lying to her, especially after he already did that when Kim was first in the hospital. He was not working. He was sitting alone on the hard couch in his dark apartment and was struggling to eat the bagel he grabbed from the bakery on the corner. "I'll make it up to you, I promise."

Makayla not satisfied with his answer blurted out, "Do you not love me anymore?"

Kim returned from the bathroom and her heart broke at her daughter's words because she knew there was no lack of love from Adam to Makayla. And Kim was ultimately the one that led Adam to decide to move out. Before he could respond, Kim interrupted. "Makayla, honey, he loves you very much. We're just taking a break."

"It's like my mommy and daddy all over again," she said as she got up from the table running into her bedroom and closing the door behind her.

"Makayla," Kim yelled after her.

"I'm on my way over," Adam said on the phone before he hung up.

"Listen to me bud. Moms and dads fight sometimes, but that doesn't mean we love you any less." Kim was standing outside her daughter's door hoping for her to open it up.

"I just...thought I was getting a dad this time."

Adam ran in to Kim's apartment as Makayla said those words and they felt like a knife in his heart. She could tell he rushed over as his flannel was buttoned unevenly and his belt was only through a few loops on his jeans.

"Hey, thanks for coming. She refuses to come out."

Adam rubbed Kim's back. "Let me try."

He walked over to her bedroom door and sat down right in front of it. "Hey Mack, it's me." All he could hear behind the door was her deep breathing in between her sobs. After a few seconds, the door slowly creaked open to reveal her sitting on the ground with her hands covering her face.

"I still love you, Makayla. Your mom and me are working through some things right now, but we both love you very much." She looked up at him for the first time since he arrived. "I actually kinda know how you feel right now. My parents aren't together anymore and didn't like each other very much when I was growing up, but that's not what's happening here. I love you and your mom very much."

Kim just stood back and watched, amazed at how seamlessly Adam stepped in as the father figure in Makayla's life.

"But we were supposed to move in together and be a family."

"I know and we still will be. It will just take some time."

"Pinky promise?" Makayla held out her small shaking pinky finger. Adam looked to Kim first before he acted, meeting her pinky with his, sealing the promise. She flashed a toothy grin and jumped up and ran into his arms to hug him.

"Ok, now let's get you ready for school." The three were a well oiled machine hurrying to get Makayla ready for school. Adam packed up her backpack and prepared her lunch, while Kim got her dressed and fixed her hair.

They both walked Makayla into school, her in the middle holding onto their hands, swinging her arms. After she walked into the building and waved goodbye, Kim turned to Adam.

"You know, you were a champ with her back at the apartment. I can only imagine what you were like with her while I was kidnapped and in the hospital."

"What can I say. I have a way with kids."

Kim let out a chuckle. "I see that. You know, maybe the best decision for our family wasn't for you to move out. I need you and she needs you...her dad."

Adam now smiled at that last word. He couldn't believe he was finally a dad and had a family with Kim Burgess after all this world has put them through. Everything wasn't automatically fixed, but they were both now committed to fix it for each other and their daughter.

[terrence-silver]

Feel free to just say "nope, no thoughts on this," but I noticed you rb'd the post I did where me and my friend had talked about terry as an egg (who will probably never go further than that). I don't remember if you've ever written about terry and transness in himself (you have that lovely one about him and an nb partner), maybe through a certain worshipfulness of/comparing himself to trans women in the 80s and now? wondering if you have any thoughts/ideas/concepts? - VQT

I headcanon Terry always felt vaguely otherized, you know?

I mean, it is apparent that he does in the military. He immediately doesn't fit the bill of something he supposedly ought to fit the bill of by the standards of the era and the army bubble; the traditional masculinity of an overly macho environment in the army in the late 60's. Twig is a bit of an outsider, isn't he? Bet he very much felt it too. Bet people reminded him that he is, especially the likes of Captain Turner. But, I envision his internal conflicts started way before that. I always had this imagination that a young Terry was closer to his mother then his father and that he'd often bond with her as she beautified herself in front of an elaborate boudoir mirror like some sort of 50's old Hollywood movie starlet and it became apparent that the art of transformation was something that always had his interest as a concept. Maybe he tried too a couple of times in secret. Tried on her pearls. Her rouge. Beauty's beauty, right? His child mind didn't understand why it had to be limited to just mom and what the societal expectations of that implied. Until his father discovered him and gave him a disciplinary beating or some sort of punishment only another Silver can come up with, of course. Transformation hurt, but it was always there in the aftermath. Maybe the pain of his reprimanding made it more memorable.

This is the same transformation, he in a roundabout sense first utilized when he ceased being Twig and started being Ponytail. I don't think he had the definitive language for it at the time or a clear understanding of what was going on with him other then his friend dying and him needing to commemorate and usurp him in order to become something better then what he used to be. Keep a comrade's memory alive through himself. His need to change was always there. Always present. So, he changed. Terry changed into himself through Ponytail as a surrogate.

Then came the 80's and while I envision Terry's identity and sexuality were always very fluid, it is most obvious in this era. Most abundantly clear in this very decade. Taking his voyeuristic and stalking tendencies into question, I think he'd seek out individuals that pique his interest and he'd just follow them around and observe them for whatever reason. Just the curiosity, control and powerplay of it all. I think Transwomen can very much be some of the many diverse people he watches for equally diverse reasons. After he researches them, gleefully prods into their utmost privacy via his channels and resources and confirms they are in fact what he thinks they are, he watches their daily routine. Them picking up groceries. Returning from work. When they turn on the light. When they turn it off. Who they bring home. If they bring home anyone at all. Them just living in the most mundane of senses. He doesn't understand why, but he visualizes himself in this rear window life he spies on them through. He too became himself after the war, he rationalizes. He became an 'actual man', the way he sees it. A man as a man should be. Not Twig. A winner, not a wimp. Unlike in Vietnam, now he's the pinnacle of manhood. He's muscular and strong and handsome and people want him --- but, he feels he could be more and he can't explain why or how --- or maybe he knew why and how, he simply wouldn’t admit it to himself. For a while, I feel Terry himself would write off his interest in Transness as purely lecherous. It is easier that way in his own. Isn't entirely untrue either because part of it is entirely perverse on his behalf as is honestly most everything he does anyway. But, I also think he’d be curious and innately fascinated because he’d relate to the struggle and the journey of it all. 

That’s me, in a way, somehow, somewhere, Terry feels.

But, he also thinks this ability is godlike. To become so fully yourself. So undeniably you. He admires it and he wants it too, even though, by all accounts, he should be impressed with what he is now, and he is, but there’s always a question mark at the end of every sentence with Terry. A big what if? I think that Terry's obsession with control is pathological and he almost wishes he could shapeshift sometimes, into whoever he wishes to be at the moment --- without any limitations of the flesh. Turn into whoever he needs to be. He'd fetishize as much as he ascribes an almost fantastical, mystical quality to Transwomen, because he too is himself now, even though he feels he could be even more so. I think that furthest he'd go is try make up again. Something that might've had him punished as a child.

He brushes it off by it merely being the 80's.

You can get away with some much flamboyancy in the 80's, no?

Glam rock is in fashion --- make up is in the media mainstream.

Or rather, he’s a Billionaire and rules are whatever he makes them (and however he unmakes them, the same way he’s been making and unmaking himself for years now) --- justifications are plenty, but they usually boil down to him being powerful and doing whatever the fuck he wants as a result and enjoying it every step along the way. It feels good. It feels right. It feels like him.

Terry puts on lipstick, lets his dark curls loose, wears some elaborate bathrobe, heels that make him easily seven foot tall, decked out in jewelry --- he's beautiful. Imposing. Magnificent. The most beautiful woman on the world --- even though she's neither here nor there and quite frankly, Terry doesn't want her to be, because I imagine he'd wish to keep every part of himself, fitting no specific label, fitting no specific box. Terry's simply Terry. With a gender expression entirely unique to Terry. This woman would have the world kneeling for her if she was real. Maybe she is real? Even more so than before. There's no shame in the act. No sense of not fitting. It is not some hidden thing. A secret. No. In fact, he feels even more powerful than before. This is just another persona for him, right? Another role? He's just experimenting and being cheeky. Terry comes dangerously close to an epiphany. He continues wearing himself like that in privacy. But, he never crosses over the threshold. Then comes the thirty year absence between the tournament loss of '85 and John returning into his life and his elaborate need to become himself is padded by him making up countless other personas meanwhile. A great many to compensate for the feeling of otherness that still persists, even into his old age.

Terry's staggeringly and baffling standardized now.

To alien lengths.

Until he’s no longer himself, or rather, as far removed from himself as he can be.

I think that alienation from himself led to severe repression and depression.

He eats 'properly' and keeps 'proper' company and acts 'properly' and makes 'proper small talk at proper garden parties hosting a proper upper class New Age liberal elite consisting of, perhaps, a few ambiguously LGBTQ+ individuals in subtext (like that one dude who’s name slips me, I’d analyze, far too fascinated with John’s jawline) that too, staggeringly so, fit the cis mold of acceptance to the point of being intentional tokens ---- and Terry deliberately staged his whole life to be pristine, safe, clinical, calculated and commonplace. There is nothing about Terry Silver that is off. No, no. He's bricked himself off after what I assume is the aftermath of a couple of severe mental breakdowns, various attempts at therapy, drug overdoses, remissions, recoveries and identity crisis's in abundance (involving Terry genuinely not understanding who or what he is) and I feel he sought to pad the fall-out of all these various incidents by forcing himself, for the lack of a better word, to act super straight and immensely Cissgender and Heternormative in order to once more hide himself and make himself digestible for the world at large. Which is, I think, a role that didn't make him all that comfortable and with good reason. In fact, he looked awkward, cringed out and even miserable the whole time --- all courteous smiles. All subdued, coordinated mannerisms. I think this could be the prime root of his suffering. Terry, at his old age, is still going through major identity issues. Terry still hides bits of himself. Terry still can't be himself. Terry has hid everything, starting from his Karate expertise, to his time in the military, to his sexuality, downright to everything else. Terry has worn masks and fabricated personas all his life and for the longest time, he’s enjoyed and relished in it.

Until it has became stifling.

Too difficult to handle --- too painful.

He wants to shed himself and he quite literally wants out.

[three-moving]

okay more genshin pokemon au time. i have brainrot for my own au help me

here's the diluc n kaeya conflict laid out, taken pretty much word for word from my messy notebook so that i can have a digital copy somewhere. it's really a diluc-kaeya-talonflame conflict, but you get the idea. anyway:

first off i wanna mention that it's much less severe than in canon. no betrayals no physically fighting but a lot of bitterness.

their last conversation was an argument, and neither of them know how to reconcile

diluc went to dragonspine under the guise of a study expedition just after his father died

kaeya accused him of running away from his problems bc theyre both emotionally stunted barely adults who can't deal with their problems

kaeya felt like diluc was abandoning him at a time when they both needed and only had each other, but didn't know how to address that.

words were exchanged (loudly and with passion), and they split ways, both of them incredibly angry and hurt. kaeya because he couldn't understand why diluc would leave. diluc because he couldn't understand why kaeya wouldn't let him.

years (2-3?) later, diluc returns changed.

turns out, isolating yourself when you really need therapy does not work wonders!

he'd left his talonflame behind - it was a reminder of his father and kaeya, and of everything he was trying to escape from - and kaeya had been taking care of it since then

(side note: the talonflame has been with diluc since it was an egg. it was gifted to him by his father, so it was a reminder of everything he'd lost.)

talonflame and kaeya are both understandably bitter but try to be open to this new diluc, even as he tries to make kaeya keep talonflame and cut contact entirely

but kaeya is stubborn, as is talonflame (it was raised alongside both kaeya and diluc, of course it's a stubborn pokemon, you'd have to be in that household)

they make diluc address them (that part is mostly due to kaeya showing up everywhere he knew diluc would be until they finally sat down and he gave diluc the talonflame back) but they're still not properly on speaking terms. diluc and his talonflame are working toward reconciling, but for a good while the talonflame just does not listen to anything he says.

kaeya, however... both he and diluc are stubborn and bitter and won't apologize first. so they're at a bit of an impasse.

and that's basically the point they're at when the events of the au (i'd say story but it's... not been written yet lol) start!

[kaaytea]

Yaku Morisuke x reader

Summary: Yaku insisted that he didn't need your help, but the sound of glass breaking over the phone said otherwise.

Warnings: none

A/n: Yaku canonically has 2 little brothers now🥰 this is basically a gift for bug anon and @hikari-writes​ anyways enjoy mwah!!💖

----------------------------------------------------------

"Hi baby!" You happily chirped into the phone, "I'm excited for our date! It's been a while since we've gone on one."

There was a pause on the other end, you could hear shuffling and a few muffled giggles.

"Stop it you two! I'm sorry (y/n) but we're gonna have to postpone our date, my Aunt fell ill so my parents asked me to watch Yuji and Shiori While they go look after her. I'm really sorry I know how excited you were"

You let out a small laugh and shifted your phone to your other ear as you went to pick up your bag, "It's ok Mori, we can just reschedule for next weekend. How about I come over anyway? It sounds like you'll need the help."

"Ah you don't have to do that, I can usually handle them and I don't want you to-"

Yaku was cut off by the sound of a glass breaking followed by two voices

"ooooo Oniisan is gonna kill yooooou"

"No! He's gonna kill you because I didn't do it!"

Mori let out a tired sigh, "On second thought some help would be greatly appreciated."

"I'll be over in ten minutes, sit tight sweetie!"

<< --------------------------------------------------- >>

The Yaku family home wasn't too far from yours, being only a little over an eight-minute walk away. You'd been there plenty of times throughout the years after befriending Morisuke in junior high; your younger self would probably explode if they knew you'd end up dating that cute boy with pretty eyes and wavy, toffee hair who walked home the same way you did. The Yaku's basically became your second home at this point so helping Mori watch his little brothers wasn't that rare of an event.

You hopped up the steps to the humble house and knocked on the door, which swang open a few seconds after revealing a flustered Yaku Morisuke.

"Thank you for helping (y/n), I’m sorry.. this isn't exactly what I had in mind for us today," he said as you walked in, pressing a kiss to your cheek in the process.

"I don't mind helping you out Mori, sure it's not the same as a dinner date but we always have fun when watching the boys," you offered him a smile, which he returned, and followed him into the main room where you were immediately tackled by his brothers.

"(Y/n)-chan!" Yuji jumped up from his seat, abandoning the gaming controller he was holding leaving Shiori to win the game they were currently playing, and bounced over to you to hug your waist. Shiori followed closely behind his older brother and latched on to your waist as well.

"Hey you two!" You wrapped an arm around both boys and hugged them back, both of them looked up at you with big smiles.

They were looking more and more like Morisuke each time you saw them -which was understandable seeing as they're all brothers.

Yuji, the older of the two, shared the same toffee hair as his elder brother but Shiori's, while similar, was a few shades darker than Mori's. All three of them had the same chocolate-colored eyes and delicate freckles dusted on their cheeks though.

"Alright get off them, this might surprise you two but they need to do this thing called breathing," Yaku said from where he was leaning against the couch.

Both boys pulled away, Shiori lingering a little longer, and then dragged you over to the couch to play videogames with you.

Videogames were the most popular form of entertainment whenever you came to watch them. Yuji was scary good at games and almost always won when the four of you played; he could honestly rival Kenma's abilities.

Because there were only three controllers Shiori always sat on your lap so the both of you could take turns, but you had a sneaking suspicion it was because he was a little more attached to you and liked to be near you.

"Are you sure you don't want to play (y/n)-chan?" Shiori looked up at you from his spot on your lap with an innocent look.

"I'm sure Shi, I'm having much more fun watching you play," you leaned closer to him and whispered," Plus, I can help you beat your brothers this way."

He grinned at you and looked forward again to the tv. It seemed as though today's game of choice was Smash Bros Ultimate.

The three brothers started the game with Yuji instantly knocking Mori off the map resulting in him to yell out in frustration. Yaku could be very petty when he wanted so he spent most of the game targeting Yuji, leaving Shiori to sit safely on the sidelines. The game was coming to a close with Mori and Yuji both having one life left. Mori took a wild chance and ended up hitting Yuji off the map making the younger boy cry out in shock. That's when you guided Shiori over to Mori's character and won the match.

"No fair! (y/n)-chan helped you Shiori!" Yuji whined.

"I have no idea what you mean Yuji," you gave him a smile as he pouted at you; he took gaming very seriously.

"Ok ok, stop attacking (y/n) and Shi, why don't we go outside for a bit? The both of you have been in here playing games all day," Yaku got up and turned off the gaming console and tv then turned back to look at the two boys.

"Oooook," they both said before racing to the door. They pushed at each other in attempts to sabotage the other causing you to laugh at their antics. You were so engrossed in the younger boys race that you didn't notice Yaku standing in front of you until he flicked your head.

"You totally helped him win, didn't you" Mori stated with a playful glare.

You got up and pressed a kiss to his nose, "Maybe I did maybe I didn't. Why? Do you want me to help you win next time?" Mori blushed at your response then teasingly hit your shoulder.

<< --------------------------------------------------- >>

You and Yaku sat on the wooden porch together watching the younger boys kick around a soccer ball. Mori's arm was around your waist, his thumb occasionally rubbing soft circles into your hip.

"Niisan?" Shiori had diverged from Yuji and now stood in front of Mori and you, nervously fiddling with the hem of his shirt.

"What's up bud?"

"Can...can you teach me how to play volleyball?"

Mori honestly looked like he could cry when the words 'teach me to play volleyball' left his little brother’s mouth. He'd been hoping that at least one of his brothers would become interested in the sport and it seemed quiet Shiori would be the one.

Mori stood up with a grin on his face, "Sure Shi! Come on, we'll teach you how to receive first."

You smiled watching Shiori run after Morisuke; Yuji and Shiori really looked up to him, it's like they think he hung the stars in the sky himself.

"Yuji!" You called out. The boy looked up from where he was kicking around the soccer ball, "Wanna come help me make dinner?"

"Yeah!"

Yuji happily trailed after you to the kitchen, hopping around from foot to foot as he blabbered on about a Tv show.

You honestly didn't know where he got all his energy from, everyone else in his family was significantly less hyper; though, his cheery attitude was one of your favorite things about him.

"Alright Yuji, what should we make?"

He stopped his bouncing and brought a hand to his chin, his face scrunching up as he pondered his options.

"Ramen!"

You gave him a nod and searched through the cabinets for the noodle packets you were, oh so familiar with. You pulled out enough for four people, placing them on the counter. You then moved to the refrigerator -just eating the packaged noodles wouldn't be the healthiest, so you decided to put your own spin on it. After a quick once over of the fridge you pulled out some carrots, spinach, and a few eggs.

"Ok Kiddo, I'm giving you a really important job. I want you to wash the carrots and spinach, think you can do that for me?"

"Yep!" Yuji gathered the vegetables in his arms and brought them over to the sink to start his job. Once you were sure he was safe, you started looking around for a pot and cutting board. You'd been to this house so many times but if there was one room you weren't familiar with it was the kitchen. Yaku's mother always insisted that she had everything handled and for you to go enjoy your time with Morisuke.

"(y/n)-chan I'm done!" Yuji called over his shoulder. He had perfect timing as you had just found a pot big enough to cook the noodles in.

You walked over to the sink, pot in hand, and gave Yuji a pat on the head -he was absolutely beaming at your approval.

"looks good, I'm gonna start cutting the carrots, fill this pot a little over halfway and then we can start making the noodles," Yuji nodded up at you and started filled the pot while you started cutting the veggies.

You were fully concentrated on your task, you didn't even hear the backdoor open.

"Careful!" You looked over your shoulder to find Mori taking the filled pot from Yuji, the latter had a slight pout spread over his face.

Yaku placed the pot on the stove top and turned back to the younger boy, "Don't do that next time, alright? You could have gotten hurt...it's ok to ask for help when you need it."

Yuji nodded pitifully, he's eyes down casted on the floor in a mix of shame and embarrassment. Mori huffed and ruffled Yuji's hair making him perk up a bit, "I think (y/n) and I've get it handled from here buddy. Go play with Shi, we'll call you both when the foods done."

"Ok!" All previous sadness had left Yuji as he instantly reverted back to his happy self, he bounced out of the kitchen and in the direction of he and Shiori's shared room.

"Thank you for helping Yuji!" You called out. His head popped out from the side of the doorway with a large smile on his face.

"you're welcome (y/n)-chan!"

<< --------------------------------------------------- >>

After dinner and a few more rounds of Smash, Mori and you had tucked both boys into bed for the night.

You stretched your arms high into the air with a hum, "I should probably start walking home."

You felt Yaku latch onto your back, his chin resting on your shoulder and his strong arms pulling you into his chest.

"Nope you're staying here, I don't want you walking home this late."

You chuckled at him and leaned into his hold, he's always looking out for you.

"Ok...that means we're gonna go cuddle in your room, right?"

"Duh"

Being curled up with Mori was one of the best things on earth. Everything about the action was soft and warm; the embodiment of comfort.

"I love your brothers but they really are a handful."

"Try living with them," Yaku responded dryly.

You slapped his shoulder lightly causing him to chuckle at you.

You sighed, enjoying the feeling of Mori tracing random shapes on your back, and nuzzled further into his chest.

"How did Volleyball with Shiori go?"

"It was fun. He's not that bad of a receiver, though I think he'd make a better setter than a libero."

You hummed and placed a kiss on his jaw, "He does have the aspects of a good setter in him, liberos need to be a bit aggressive and crazy to throw themselves around and receive."

"Wow thanks babe," he deadpanned causing you to giggle at him.

"I loooove you~"

"Yeah, whatever you say," Yaku rolled his eyes then tickled your sides changing your giggles to full-on laughter. You shifted and twitch in feeble attempts to escape Yaku's grasp.

"OK OK IM SORRY, Y-YOU MADE YOUR POINT!!"

He stopped his attack and watched you with a soft look as you calmed down. That's when a sliver of light cut through the room like a knife making both You and Mori look towards the door.

"Oniisan...we heard a scary noise outside," Yuji stood in the doorway with Shiori behind him clinging to the back of his shirt.

Mori sat up, he may complain that his baby brothers were annoying but he still loved them with all his heart and couldn't stand to see them upset.

"Do you guys wanna stay with us tonight? (Y/n)-chan and I will make sure nothing scary comes to snatch you away"

Both boys nodded and rushed over to Yaku's bed; their brother was like a beacon of light and the bed a safe house, the childlike fear of standing in the dark room unprotected lapped at their minds.

You all had to squeeze to fit onto the bed but eventually, everyone got situated and relaxed. Both kids laid between you and Mori; Shiori was clinging to your waist with his face pressed into your stomach and Yuji was facing Mori hugging his arm.

Both Yuji and Shiori fell asleep instantly once in the comfort of You and Yaku.

You ran a hand through Shiori's wavy hair, you looked up to find Yaku watching you; he looked starstruck, an almost loopy smile on his face and a warm glow in his eyes. He reached over Yuji and Shiori and grabbed onto your free hand, his thumb ran up and down the back of it prompting you to close your eyes and start to drift off.

Everything was warm and cozy, nothing but the distant chirps of crickets and the soft breathing of the two sleeping boys filled your senses; the feeling of safety and protection evident in the air.

This single moment in time was better than any date Yaku could take you on.

[lunartearrose]

Here is that skullvin piece i did to rid myself of some art block! I used that nice ingame screenshot i got too. Below in a readmore i have a nice little blurb of au angst(?) i thought up!

Oh, he was going to kill that nerd when he woke up. 

How could someone who claimed he wants order think this was okay to do to someone? How would forcing him to sleep with his stupid radio waves win a battle at all? Fighting his tiredness full-heartedly, Vintage tried his hardest to find a way to wake up. Nothing was working.

On his last resort, Vintage pinches his cheek as hard as he possibly can. He felt like he was getting somewhere for a moment, that maybe he'd be up enough to punch those stupid silver shades off the jerk's face…

But then, he felt a hand on his shoulder, and all at once the rage he built up was swallowed in the fog of this dream. An old friend was staring him in the face - confused as ever, and concerned like he used to be. 

"Don't worry about practice today." His friend said, "the others are sick anyways. Wanna hit the convenience store with me…?" 

It really did feel like reaching a beloved memory he wanted desperately to relive - the kind where he didn't have to worry about keeping up the name of X, when he could have  precious moments with someone… he really missed. 

That dream was much longer than his true reality, that much he knew. What felt like hours browsing for cheap sweets and spices, talking along the way, looking for ways to sneak food out for free - it was only a few minutes in reality. 

He tried continually to remind himself that - this wasn't real, this skull wearing his current gear and treating him so well, it simply didn't exist. But despite what he knew, he found himself hating the idea of abandoning this moment, or telling this skull he wasn't real. Just for a small moment, he wanted to believe what could've been, had they not become obsessed with an idea of power.

On their way out the store, they chatted happily as they walked slowly on the road back home. Skull carried many more bags, proud to show off his physical strength. Vintage smiled, almost genuinely…

And at that moment, his will had started to return, with memories of the present situation. He had a feeling he'd be waking up from this dream soon. 

So vintage moved closer to this mirage of skull. He wrapped his arms around him, and squeezed tightly. It took that skull a moment to register this, just like the real one would, before he hugged back, wordlessly confused. He felt warm, and all too real. 

"I really do wish it was different sometimes…" vintage admits, unusually finding it hard to talk right. "I miss this so much." 

The dream that was skull hummed softly. "You don't have to miss me. We see each other all the time." 

That much was true. They used to walk together all the time… and now, after everything, they still see each other. But they never talk. 

So, vintage simply nodded. "We'll talk again… right?" 

And he feels the skull nod in turn. "Of course." 

Vintage could hear a voice calling. No, several - they were frantic, trying to get him to wake. He gives that skull one last squeeze-

And awakens to a harsh reality. He was on the floor, double-egg supporting his upper half while omega made him drink another sip of water. Even red seemed freaked out by his state. He felt a dampness by his eyes...

As memory of who gave him such a cruel dream resurfaces, vintage is overtaken by a sickly sort of rage.

"Where is that bastard…?" Vintage asks them.

"He took you off his team, like, three matches ago! The guy's an insane jerk, making you go through like 20 matches back to back, and he kept tryin to use you against us when we tried to beat him up!" Red exclaims.

"He's fighting more team chaos now, with a separate team. Goggles,prince, skull, and bobble. They're doing their thing… as you'd expect." Omega explains. 

"Sounds like he's about to get a loss, then." Vintage says as he attempts to stand, "Let's catch the end. Then i can beat that nerd to hell and back." 

But as vintage stood, he suddenly felt a horrible soreness as his legs buckled underneath him. Luckily, eggshades and red were fast enough to catch him. 

"Woah! No more fights for you, i guess!" Red says. 

"I'll keep an eye out for him for ya. For now, i don't think it's good for you to stand…" eggshades says. 

Vintage huffed angrily. "I want to watch the fight at least…"

Omega nods. "I figured as much. I'll grab you a chair. Guys, could you help him move?" 

"Yes ma'am!" His two teammates reply half-sarcastically, and each take part in supporting vintage enough to let him at least feel like he was standing, maybe.

"...Thanks." vintage says, then adds a bit softly, "and... thanks for sticking by me while i was out, too." 

On either side of him, his friends smile.

"Oh? Was that a thank you?" Red says, eagerness clear in her voice.

"How could we not? You're our leader." Eggshades says, sounding like his confidence got boosted a bit more.

"...And as our leader, you're a friend, too." Omega tells him as she returned with a nice little folding chair.

Despite everything, their words brought a small smile to his face. The past was nice to think of, and yes, maybe he could patch things up, but the support he had now definitely has a place in his heart.

"Thanks… now let's watch that nerd get his ass beat."

(... here's the screenshot too btw ^^)

[addictofsupernatural]

Spidey Senses (pt. 1)

Peter Parker x reader

Summary: You have a big secret about your life, and so might your crush.

Word Count: 2253

Chapter 2

You woke up, looking around at the apartment to yourself, and got ready for school. You made yourself some scrambled eggs; they were quick enough to make. You ate and cleaned up, not that anyone was expecting you to. You went to the bathroom, looking at yourself one last time. You frowned, but smoothened out your shirt.

Peter liked this shirt. He once told you that at lunch, when you brought him cookies made cookies for him and Ned. It was a Bowsette shirt, and this time instead of wearing it lose you tucked it in. Maybe he'd like that? Not that it was doing much for your body. You did read somewhere that having confident vibes was attractive, so maybe you just needed to act confident, and he'd notice that you wore the shirt he likes? It was stupid, but you were doing it anyways.

You locked up your apartment and walked to Peter's nicer apartment complex, where you sat down on the untagged steps outside. A few minutes later Peter came rushing out with a piece of toast in his mouth. You turned and smiled, perking up.

"Morning Peter." You chirped. No matter how bad you could feel sometimes, you couldn't help but have the best of attitudes around Peter.

"Morning." He said, voice muffled. He took a bite and ripped off a piece of toast, silently giving it to you. You took it and ate with him. "So I just got a text from Ned, and we have to pair up in biology for a project on the genetics of different forms of life."

He sounded pepped up, and so were you. You loved doing projects. It was a stress reliever from working at nights, and you got to spend some time after school with Peter. To you, projects were amazing. "So, who're you gonna pick for your partner?" You teased.

"Of course only the one person I know who can keep up with me." He nudged you, and you giggled. "I wish Liz was in that class. She's really smart."

Then there was that. Peter's crush on Liz. Though it made you feel terrible about yourself, you couldn't help but constantly compare yourself to Liz. She was so much prettier than you, smarter, actually popular. Not that you really cared about popularity, but it seemed like everyone adored her, Peter included. You didn't dislike her, you just wished you could be more like her. But if she's what makes Peter happy, then you would try to be the most supportive friend you could be.

"I bet you do." You did your best to smile. "Are we still on for joining the Mathletes?"

"I don't know. What if I get too nervous around Liz and start messing everything up? Then I'll look like an idiot."

"First of all, never call yourself an idiot. You're a genius, own it. Second, me and Ned are gonna join with you. We'll have your back Peter. We'll all have some fun, and you'll get to spend more time with her. We'll be in the back for support if you need us."

He nodded and put an arm around you, squeezing your shoulders as he side hugged you. "Thanks y/n. I can always count on you and Ned to be really awesome friends."

Though it took a blow to your feelings and self esteem, all you responded with was "Of course." as you walked into school and met up with Ned.

Sometimes, keeping things to yourself was just the better option. There were two things you kept from Peter. One, you were completely and undoubtedly in love with him. Only Ned knew about this, since he's just as close to you as Peter is. Two, the day you went to the Stark museum field trip and got bit by that spider changed your life forever.

As the day went on, so did your anxiousness. It was good this time; you didn't have work today at Delmar's Deli-Grocery, meaning it was time to suit up. Queens always needed help, and you were happy to do it. So was this other guy with similar abilities, but you never met him, so you didn't worry about it.

Mathletes went pretty much as expected. Peter was adorably awkward around Liz, but a genius none the less. You actually had some fun with Ned, goofing off as well as being able to get some work done. Peter would come back to you two every now and then to give updates. "You okay?" Ned quietly asked.

"Yeah, I'm good." You rested your chin on your hand and leaned over. "What about you? Like anybody right now?"

He gave you a goofy smile. "Nobody specific, but I'm hoping being in the Mathletes will show girls how smart I am."

You gave him a toothy grin in return. "I'm sure they will. Girls who are worth your time are suckers for nerds." Ned nodded his head eagerly in response.

Peter caught a glimpse of your conversation with Ned about girls liking nerds, and it sounded like a really tempting topic to over and listen about, but he had to focus on Liz. Giving her his main attention will show her that this is just as important to him as it is to her.

When Mathletes was over, Peter went over to you and an excited Ned, trying to ignore that nagging left out feeling he was having. "What'd I miss?"

"Y/n's gonna paint the Millennium Falcon and Death Star on my walls!" Ned said excitedly.

"Woah, really?"

You shrugged and smiled. "Yeah, it's not a big deal. I like painting, and it's not like my landlord would let me do it on my own walls. His parents are gonna take me to buy the paints and pay me for doing it too, so it's really just me getting all the benefits."

"It's gonna happen next week, so we should have a marathon over the weekend." Ned proposed.

"I love that idea!" Peter said, getting pumped up and excited in a very cute way he does. "We should do it at your house!" He said to you.

"I'm so down!" You excitedly said. "But right now I have homework to do, so let's walk home."

Ned said his goodbyes as he got picked up. You and Peter walked home together talking about Star Wars and how he would love it if you painted for him sometime. You promised him you would and said your goodbyes, watching him walk up his apartment complex steps and disappearing. You then quickly ran home to put on your super suit and head out.

Meanwhile, Peter came home to see Mr. Tony Stark in his very own living room. "Aunt May, I'm ho–"

The two heads turned to see the suddenly out of breath teen. "Oh, hey! Mr. Stark was just telling me how you got accepted." Aunt May smiled.

"W...wha–how–um, hi." He breathed out.

Tony smiled effortlessly as he got up. "I was just talking to your Aunt May over here about your acceptance for your application into the Stark internship." He winked. "Can we talk privately in your room?"

"Ye...uh, sure. Course." They both went into his room and Tony closed the door, looking around the room.

"So your aunt seems nice." Tony said nonchalantly. "Really doesn't look like an aunt."

"Um, why are you here Mr. Stark? I never filled out an–"

"She's cute." He picked up a framed picture of you and Peter, you hugging him while you both smiled. Tony instantly recognized you as the other person he was going to recruit.

"Y–uh, I guess." The question was very flustering for Peter.

"Is she your girlfriend?"

"Woah! No, we're just friends. There's actually this other girl–"

Tony set the picture down and went on to his phone. "Okay, I'm bored with this story now." He then pulled up a video of a disguised man stop a car from crashing into a bus. "This you?"

"No! I don't know who that is."

"Yeah?" He looked up and got the broom that was against the wall, pushing one of the air vents out of the way and watching Peter's suit fall while tied to a rope. "Tell anybody about your powers?"

"No! Not even Aunt May, I promise. It's been a secret since I got them."

Tony nodded. "I'll cut to the point. I need you to come with me to Berlin. There's something you can help me with. Think of it as a mission. Are you up for it?" Peter only nodded his head. "Good, we got one more stop to make."

You got home to your apartment after stopping a robbery at a fast food restaurant. You took a shower and finished your homework fairly quickly. After backing some double brownie cookies for the weekend, you started pencil drawing to pass the time. That's when you heard a knock at the door. Your hair was still a bit damp as you curiously got up and answered the door. In front of your very eyes was the infamous Tony Stark.

"Woah." Was the first thing to drop out of your mouth. You wanted to slap yourself. You quietly said, "Hello."

You stuck out your hand for a hand shake, trying to make it as firm as you could while feeling nervous around the celebrity. As he shook it, you swallowed your nervousness down and remembered that everyone has flaws and he's just a regular person.

"Hi, can I come in?" You forced a smile and nodded, stepping aside as he came in and walked around your house. In all honesty, it was kind of making you uncomfortable how much observing he was doing. He noticed the same picture Peter had was hanged up on your wall. "Is this your boyfriend?"

You nervously laughed at the thought of that fantasy. "I wish." You blurted out. He raised his eyebrows and looked at you, feeling that this was going to be fun to tease about over this mission. "But I've been friend zoned, so yeah." You quickly said. "Anyways, would you like something to eat or drink?"

"Got any sweets or something? I am kind of hungry." He didn't look at you and kept wandering around your apartment. You silently nodded and took out the container of cookies you just put in the cupboard. You made those for the Star Wars binge, but if you had to sacrifice some for Tony Stark, so be it. You opened it from the kitchen counter, and he took one while inspecting your kitchen. "Oh wow. These are good. Make them yourself?"

"Yeah actually. Thanks." He opened your finance drawer with your bills, newspaper coupons and food stamps. You quickly closed it. "Um, please don't look at that!"

He looked you in the eye for a second before nodding and looking at another picture of Peter and you, this time with you trying to cover your face from the selfie. "So, I've read your personal file."

He was so straight forward that you didn't know how to react. "Oh. Are you even allowed to do that?"

"I'm allowed to bend the rules a bit sometimes." You huffed in response. Rich people. "Emancipated at 15. That's a lot."

"Yeah, I guess. I'd like to think I've adjusted well." You put on a smile again.

He leaned against the kitchen counter. "You miss your mom?"

"Um, she needed to learn how to take care of herself before she could take care of anybody else. I'm okay with that." You rocked on your heals.

"That's very mature of you, but you didn't answer my question."

You really didn't know why you felt so open with him. Maybe it was all that internet stalking. Damn. But you weren't about to spill out your life to this man and scare him off. No matter how well you felt like you kind of knew him. "Mm, it's complicated."

"And what about your dad?"

You truthfully never really think about him. "What about him?"

"You don't want to meet him? Know anything about him?"

You let out a laugh. "The only thing I want to know about him is his address, so I could file for some child support."

Tony smirked, deciding that he liked you. "Can you even file for yourself."

You sighed. "Probably not. Sometimes the government can suck."

He nodded his head, his eyes averting to your room. Shit. "What're those?"

"Oh, um, you don't need to see that!" He walked a lot faster than you and went into your room. You silently cursed your small legs. "Wow. These are a lot of drawings. And there's a lot of Thor. Do we have a little crush on a certain God?"

"Maybe!" You blurted out, much to Tony's amusement.

There was a small desk over a bulletin board full of your drawings. You got the desk when you saw pieces of wood being thrown out of a Home Depot because of chips and scratches, and you volunteered to take it off their hands. You built it yourself, wobbly and uneven, and painted some of it with the paints Aunt May got you. It made you look like the help, but it was nothing compared to the drawings you had of the superheroes.

"So what if I do? I know a ton of people who have fake crushes on you!"

"And you're not one of them?" He raised an eyebrow and chuckled. "Should I be offended?"

You smiled, genuinely smiled, and shook your head. "People have fake crushes on unrealistically perfect people. Thor, Thor is unrealistically perfect. You have a ton of flaws but are essentially a good person at heart... With all respect."

"What makes you think I'm not just perfect?" He was truthfully interested in hearing your take on this.

"Because it takes a person with anxiety to know a person with anxiety." Tony uncomfortably shifted his weight onto his other foot.

"I've seen some bad stuff too, not as bad as you, but I know that memories creep up when things get too much to handle. You have a ton of things to handle. I've seen some interviews that get to you. Some things that people say. The rude reporters. Even though a lot of people say bad things about you, your company, and even your family, you still have it in you to fight for everyone. That's amazing. You're not unrealistically perfect, but you are realistically perfect to me."

He paused for a moment, absorbing what was said. "If you're not in love with me, then why do you take the time to know so much about me?"

"Because, while I don't think of you as the fake love of my life, I see you as someone I look up to."

"Believe me kid, you should look up to someone else." He tried to joke it off.

You shrugged. "I don't have anyone else." You felt embarrassed suddenly, looking down at your desk. You then smiled again and searched through your drawings, picking up one of Tony smiling. "Just think of me as your number one fan. You can have that."

"Huh." Was all he said as he looked at it.

"What? Not used to seeing yourself smile?" You giggled. "Anyways, why are you here?"

"Oh, right." He took out his phone, showing you a video of you suited up, stopping a moving car full of robbers until the police showed up.

You sighed. "Okay, you found me. What now?"

"You're not going to try and lie for your secret identity?" Tony smiled again.

"To Ironman?" You giggled again. "No."

"Well, there's a mission in Berlin I need you and the Spiderman's assistance for."

"Is that what he calls himself?"

"Yeah. You met him?" You shook your head, and Tony knew he was going to enjoy this. "Well, you're about to. Ready Spidergirl?"

"Um, shouldn't I pack or something?"

"No need. I got you provisions and clothes for a few days. Especially considering that's probably the only kind of things you have."

You clutched your baggy shirt. "Rude, but true."

"Okay then, stay here." He then left the apartment for a bit and came back with a nice looking shirt and ripped jeans. "I don't want people thinking I found a homeless girl off the side of the street."

"You're so mean." You breathed out a laugh. "Thank you though. I'll be out in a bit." You stepped out a minute later uncomfortably. "Ready?"

"Look at you, looking like a girl." He teased.

You laughed. "Who'd have known? Let's go."

"You ready to meet the Spiderman?" Tony asked as you both stepped down from the apartment complex.

"Should I be? I don't even know who that is." He winked at you before opening the door for you. You slid in the back seat and looked at a surprised Peter dead in the eye. "Holy shit!"