#Also if anything I've said here is Wrong in some way or comes across ignorant in and of itself. Let me know

[pestilentbrood]

VERY long Ramble incoming

honestly now that I'm looking at the auraboa lore situation, I'm just disappointed. There was such POTENTIAL in the idea of the Loop and the horror of a new generation inexplicably being disconnected from it, forcing the newly hatched children into a world totally separate from that perceived by their parents (I mean, hell, they perceive TIME differently!).... but then the writer(s?) just fell ass backwards into Icky Tropes.

I feel like I can see what the idea was, especially with the recent alterations to the Encyclopedia entry... It seems like staff fundamentally understands the true Horror potential here, but... Instead, through the short story, they proposed it through the lens of a condescending outsider character, turning the fears of the older generation into something trivial. And also weirdly demeaning the Auroboa's situation by portraying them as overreacting.

Why... why would you do that? Like, from a storytelling perspective? What's gained from that? Why not embrace the true horror and even Emotional significance of that disruption? Why instead go for "ohh we NEED outsider help we NEED to be saved because we are so helpless and it is so Silly that we, creatures who have never experienced such things, do not know what sleep is"????

And if they WANTED to have a condescending outsider, I feel like they COULD have done that, but it would have to have that character realize the horror at some point. And make it obvious that their attitude towards distressed parents and children facing Eldritch Shit and the Sudden Deconstruction of it was not cool!

(or at the very least be a bit more...idk. Consistent with said outsider character? Juniper just goes from "omg I am so honored that the fascinating creatures of the behemoth have chosen me to speak to" to "oh their wasting my time because they don't know what sleep is. I'd rather be sleeping!! 🙄" like girl... c'mon now. Why are we trivializing it like this. Do you want me as the reader to be invested in their plight or not.)

I mean come on. They're beings connected through one networked hivemind-like system, yet each still maintains a silver of individuality that allows them to move freely throughout the Behemoth that they care for. And they've got an eldritch understanding of time that no other dragon could understand. They're seeing the future, past, and present unfold simultaneously. They're witnessing the birth and death of the world at the same time, and have no way to communicate it to other dragons. The best they can do is maintain their home, and even then, they see its roots spread and decay all at once.

And then the newest generation is suddenly disconnected. An inherent link between parent and child and all dragons in-between, that has existed since the creation of their species, is just suddenly GONE for the newest births. With NO explanation for it. The children have no easy way of communicating with their parents. The children are experiencing time in a way that was not meant for their species. They've forcefully been shoved into a circadian rhythm that they are Not! Built for!

The only way a parent could communicate properly with their child would be when the latter is sleeping, something that is also completely foreign to this species. It would be terrifying for all involved!!!

They are literally experiencing eldritch horror from the perspective of the eldritch being forced into the mortal.

Like why WOULDN'T there be panic!!! And why would that panic be trivialized! Why are we only shown the perspective of an outsider who looks at this situation and goes "Oh the silly tree beasts are being so silly over nothing, it's no big deal!"

That and the way the auraboas talk to outsiders. Like. There was such potential there. Real opportunity to explore how ancient, time-bending beings would communicate to someone who couldn't even BEGIN to understand the intricacies of it.

Instead we got what feels more like baby talk (even described as though they were hatchlings enunciating their first words, which... I dunno man, maybe we don't want to compare them to children like That) and less like... Beings that experience all of time at once. I mean, the hatchlings and the adults speak the exact same way, and that doesn't make any sense given the literal time barrier going on.

I totally get why people thought there was just a language barrier and that auraboas had their own language, thus causing the disjointed speak, and not that it was because They Do Not Experience Time Like We Do. And I feel it would've been far easier to get it across by just... I dunno. Do anything else?? I saw someone on here suggest they speak in the "wrong" tenses, or using multiple tenses in the same sentence, which I think would've been far more clear.

Like, as opposed to "saplings wilt! saplings silent!" just "the saplings will wilt in silence, they've wilted in silence, they are wilting silently." Said all at once like all things are true simultaneously. And if we're going for hivemind, have each auraboa speak in a different tense, all at the same time, and have them switch it up every time. Have our outsider get confused and be like "which is it? are they wilting now, or have they already wilted?" and the cluster of auraboas respond in a cacophony of yes's, no's, and maybe's all at once.

Would've probably gotten across the "alien" vibe they were supposedly going for far better than wide-eyed desperation for an outsider's guidance conveyed through disjointed, in-world described as baby speech.

And also maybe would've had less accidental connotations. Because as it stands, I completely see why people have made the connections to the real world where they have. This doesn't read like eldritch timey-wimey intrigue, or even a respectful look at how younger generations can become detached from their families' cultures over time and the struggles that come with it. It reads like a culture being perceived by an ignorant outsider who (despite supposedly respecting these dragons) scoffs and rolls their eyes because the tree beasts with their funny words are being silly again, and that Hey, isn't it actually a great thing that the children are fundamentally different in all manners now? Because now they can join the rest of us in the "real world."

Yknow. Ick.

(I Personally think it would've been better to have the perspective be one of the Auraboas themselves, especially one of the children, to really understand what was going on here. Give us the full brunt of the mind of a creature experiencing all of time interwoven as one shape. The waters fall and the oceans crash with waves. They've now fallen to drought. The ocean has yet to be born. Caves have been carved out through the waters' currents. And when I break from this timeline, I open my eyes to see a child, the child not yet born, the child born now, the child born yesterday. Why can't I hear it? Why couldn't I hear it? Why won't I ever hear it?)

I dunno. People more qualified than me to speak on this matter have already torn the lore apart, I'm just... dropping my own two cents. Potential got weirdly squandered and we ended up instead with unfortunate implications and tropes that could be connected a liiiittle too awkwardly to irl situations.

*Also, before anyone points out: Yes, I know the hatchlings aren't COMPLETELY detached from the Loop and can join it when they sleep. But the fact is, these thangs never had to sleep before. That wasn't in their species' nature. So that's still weird and foreign for them on both sides. And since the hatchlings now have a circadian rhythm, they can't stay connected to the loop permanently. And also Also, seeing as the previous generations aren't experiencing time linearly, who's to say they even recognize when their child joins the loop? They'll speak with an echo of their child when that child was last asleep ages ago, not knowing that it's not them presently, because there is no 'present' for the older generations.

[remiivu]

Ghostly Companion- Chapter 1

Link on Ao3! Currently rated Teen but may go up to Mature/Explicit

Masterlist Next Chapter -->

A Mr. Crawling x Reader fic (that may expand into a series!)

This is the first time that I've written anything like this in the past 5 years, so give me some slack if it's bad or cringey lol (also the first fic on Tumblr!)

Set in the ending (and series of events) where you take him home! I've done a few playthroughs so some parts may not be fully accurate, but I'll do my best!

No warnings-- just some minor cursing here and there. 1.8k words!

Enjoy!

 Note: Words in italics are in the ghost language. The blocks represent words reader doesn't understand.

You…

Honestly, you weren’t quite sure what happened these past 24 hours. Half of your now fully-conscious brain had settled on this being some sort of twisted hallucination you experienced after inhaling the noxious spores from some weird mushroom during your bravery challenge. But, the other, half-insane half-sane side of your mind simply cannot deny the manifestation of your nightmares sitting right across from you, a sharp smile stretching from ear to ear and a mop of strangely neat black hair swallowing its figure.

It? He? That, too, was something you didn’t know. Hell, the thing never stood up, and the noises that creaked from its throat were far from human.

But… It was nice. It helped you. It followed you, shielded you, and the pure, radiant happiness it exuded when you proposed, in broken ghostly-language, for it to join you hardly came across as malicious or non-sentient. It had feelings, and while some parts were… wrong, surely, it was owed some sort of humanity, you reasoned.

And so, it became a he, and then a Mr. Crawling-- the highlight of your creativity, truly. You doubted he understood the significance of the slightly different noises coming out of your mouth as you called to him, but still, it was the least you could do.

“... not… go?” He asked, head tilted as he sat patiently on the ground, lanky grayed limbs bent awkwardly into some mix between a w-shape and a regular sitting position. You think he said something else as well, but honestly, you were exhausted, and you hadn’t really had much time to truly learn his language.

“...” You sighed again, looking at him, then your surroundings. You had popped out right where you had started– or somewhere near it, at least, as you recognized the spooky decorations nailed and wrapped around trees. You were back in the forest you had entered before being sucked into… something. At least the light rain had stopped, leaving damp soil and the smell of petrichor to fill your senses instead of the… yeah.

Well, besides, you had nothing on you. Right– it was all in your bag that, for some reason, wasn’t brought alongside the rest of you.

“Need…” you paused, hesitating. How did you say bag? Scrounging through all the corners of your mind left you with a blank, and you searched for the next best thing.

Which would be bucket. Fuck.

Mr. Crawling tilted his head the other way, mouth flattening slightly in what you presume to be confusion. “You… ∎∎∎” he uttered something that didn’t spark a single click of recognition in your brain. “∎∎∎… ∎∎∎. ∎∎∎∎∎∎. Help?” 

You gave one nod. “Yeah, help. Uhm… bucket… “ You made the attempt of drawing out what it looked like in the dirt while ignoring the small amount of embarrassment that rose in your chest at your horrific attempt to communicate.

You jabbed at the middle of the drawing of your rather simple bag. “Uh- blood.” You muttered, figuring it was the closest thing to whatever the actual word for red was.

Mr. Crawling frowned a bit, then chirped a “Me help you ∎∎∎ bucket! ∎∎∎ ∎∎∎∎?” With a much more pleasant smile. 

You nodded, “Yeah, thanks. Ok, so… I guess we’ll split up?”

Mr. Crawling stared blankly with that dopey smile and you sighed, standing up. You felt a little bad for making a… disabled ghost? Yeah, a disabled ghost do some of the work. Shoeless and possibly pant-less

Damn. You’ve stooped down low these past few hours.

_____________________________

Honestly, you were surprised at just how efficient a disabled ghost was when left in the dark, blind, and in an environment he’s never been in before. Just as you were about to give up and start heading back into civilization, you heard a gleeful, familiar bone-chilling giggle followed by “Me ∎∎∎ bucket blood!”

Your head shoots up, “You did?!” As you rushed off to the bushes where he had wandered off. 

You let out a sigh of relief as you spotted the familiar bag, grabbing it from Mr. Crawling’s hands. “Thank you,” you smiled, weary but grateful, as Mr. Crawling giggled once again.

“Happy! Happy!” He said, reaching out to pat your head again.

You found yourself letting out a small laugh as well at the unusually tender action, giving your bag a quick once-over to confirm everything was there. When you spotted your phone, you quickly tapped on the screen, letting out a quick breath of relief as it lights up only for it to immediately be followed by a small wince.

Over 50 missed calls and 100 messages… yikes. And with a glance at the time and date, you understood why. Turns out, your sense of time was rather accurate– it had been just over a day since your disappeared.

“Hurt? You hurt?” Mr. Crawling asked, leaning in close to do his ghost-equivalent of looking. Honestly, you can’t be bothered to question why, how, or even what he’s seeing when all you’ve noticed on his face was a deep red wound in place of his eyes. 

“No,” You shake your head. “Uhm. It’s, uhm, humans. Humans worry… no– me worry humans.” You explained the best you could, standing up again. Mr. Crawling looks up, confused. 

“You safe.” He says, crawling towards you rather slowly. “Humans ∎∎∎?” 

You shake your head. “Go together with me.” You say with a bit of force. The desire to get home and in bed overshadows much of anything else that could run through your mind.

Mr. Crawling, however, doesn’t seem to mind your curtness, breaking out into another small fit of uncanny giggles as he follows after you, letting out a small mantra of “Together together together together!”

With half fondness and half exasperation, you trudge on with a smile, feeling like this experience was more akin to a person walking their dog rather than a human leading a ghost to their home. Which… you choose to think about another day. You really, really don’t want to contemplate any more images of your death.

You were so tired.

But, after nearly half an hour of much slower-than typical walking, your patience was wearing thin.

As it turns out, disabled ghosts walk– crawl much slower on slippery, uneven terrain than their familiar concrete floors. You’ve had to slow significantly so that Mr. Crawling wouldn’t get too tangled up in roots and rocks, and a part of you worried for the safety of his bare legs, but every passing glance resulted in a tiny glimpse of smooth, unharmed skin. You assume he was taking extra care to ensure he doesn’t get hurt.

But, still, every passing hour drains your phone’s limited battery and therefore your limited ability to navigate through whatever area of the city you wind up in upon exiting the mountains. You really couldn’t afford to keep slowing down or to risk losing your understanding of where to walk by circling around roots and trees. They had passed most of the decorations by now, leaving only trees and the very faint noise of any rare passing cars.

Eventually, you kneel back down, waving at him to get his attention. “Mr. Crawling.” You hum, watching as he perked up.

“∎∎∎!” He chirped, getting to your position in a few seconds.

“Me…” You hesitate. “... Me you… up.” You said, staring at him to see whether or not he understood. You were sure that, without… a lot of things necessary for life, he would be light enough for you to carry. Sure, you weren’t the fittest of the bunch, but you were healthy and exercised. In fact, you’re sure that your physical health was the only reason you lasted that long in that death trap.

His head tilted, then he grinned. “... Me you ∎∎∎?”

You sighed, contemplating. That was a vaguely familiar word, and you could almost hear something else in your memories having said it.

But before you could actually responded, Mr. Crawling lunged up at you, bringing you down to the ground in one swift motion. You let out a scream, your throat raw and strained by now, but settled in once you realized where you were.

“Mr. Crawling, what are you–?” You let out a half-scream of shock as he began to scoot across the floor with his legs, holding you firmly in his lap, cold yet sturdy arms caging you in.

He giggled, “Me ∎∎∎! Me ∎∎∎ you!”

Your jaw dropped, and then the word clicks– carry! Well, carry or lift or hold– something along those lines. You remembered that decapitated head speaking it. The head that you had left behind in the hands of that… goat thing.

“Me carry you!” Mr. Crawling giggled, and honestly, if it weren’t for the fact that this was twice as slow as their previous pace (an actual snail’s pace) you might’ve just stayed here and squeezed a nap in.

“Wait, no– no!” You wiggled, trying to loosen his arms. You couldn’t– not through sheer force, as his arms felt like stone bricks, but he loosened his hold on his own, leaning in far too close and spewing out a cycle of: “Hurt? Hurt? Damaged? You sad?” 

You sighed, shaking your head. Well, at least now you know the word. “No, me carry you. Me carry you.” You said, trying to convey through hand motions that it would be faster.

Then… Mr. Crawling giggled. Laughed. Directly at your face. “You carry me? Me ∎∎∎, you ∎∎∎!” 

In your heart, you knew you were being laughed at, and you felt heat rushing to your ears as you sputtered in indignation. “What– listen, I can carry you! You’re not even alive, so you probably don’t have water or blood or any other thing in you that makes you as heavy as–”

“Cute!” Mr. Crawling cooed with another giggle, playing with your ears, his fingers gentle despite how coarse they felt. The coolness of them actually felt… nice against your burning ears.

You balked, “You–!”

Your breath was interrupted as cement arms wrapped around you again and his butt-scooting continued. 

“Hey, I– !”

“You ∎∎∎ rest!” He said happily, strong legs picking up the pace and pushing small mounds of dirt across the forest floor.

Well… that was actually amendable. Maybe you’d get to the city before sunrise at this pace.

“Rest rest!” He said, one arm reaching up to pat your head. “You ∎∎∎! You rest! You safe.”

You let out another sigh, though you hardly put any heart into it, leaning against him more as you felt the rhythmic stop and push of him quite literally dragging the both of us to safety.

A disabled ghost… helping a fully-capable human move.

You snort, letting your eyes fall shut.

What has your life become?

And that's all! Thank you so much for stopping by! If you're interested, I just wanted to add some notes for anybody paying a bit more attention to minor details in this fic.

Yes, the reader is exhausted and far too tired to ask why a ghost who "can't use his legs" is currently using them as a motor to propel them across the forest floor. Give them some slack! They nearly died about 3 times lmao. (And I have mentally planned out a timeframe where they realize this exact piece of info)

I am aiming for the reader to be completely G/N (for our rare male players) but I may slip up and call them she/her or accidentally follow the canon a bit too closely.

Honestly, while it is based in Japan, most of my understanding outside of some rare visits comes from anime. So, in my head, the local high school was hosting a bravery challenge up in the forest on the mountains and the reader was dragged along with their friends (reader is a working young adult, ~25 years old). In my world, the city they live in is maybe 40 minutes away from that specific area in the mountains. I'm contemplating making the reader American-Japanese (who resides in the US and visited Japan for a vacation to meet up with old friends, or something like that).

Yes, I know that "bucket" in the ghost language isn't correct (the correct word is "container" or something more vague like that) but I can't recall if the reader gets to go to the SOS room on this route where Mr. Crawler refers to the pencil case/make-up bag with that same word, so their only experience would be learning the word through buckets with Mr. Hood.

I may accidentally call Mr. Crawling "Mr. Crawler." I'm pretty sure I haven't done that in this fic, but this is simply a warning for the future lmao.

That's all! Thanks again!^^

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[fangirl-writes]

Sick Day

JJ Maybank x GN!Reader

Warning(s): Sickness, fever.

Request:

Hi!! I've seen you account recently and I was thinking maybe you could write jj maybank x reader when the reader is always so guffy and childish, like they always jump from excitement and love weird things. So reader is sick like have really bad fever and is weary weak, almost fainted because of that and jj take kare of them and maybe lullaby them to sleep by singing them and rocking them please.

Also English isn't my mother language so please forgive me for any mistakes love you.

Feel free to ignore me if you want to byee

Notes: JJ would absolutely listen to Arctic Monkeys don't @ me.

"But JJ," you whined as he carried you into your house.

"No buts, Y/N, you can't put other shit above yourself. You're sick and you're going to be sick until you get better."

You pouted, burying your head in his shoulder. "But what if you get sick?"

"Don't worry about that, I literally never get sick. It's like some superpower I have," he replied, walking towards your bedroom. "One time John B. got the flu, like shit from both ends bad flu, and I spent the whole day with him anyway and never got sick."

"But you're gonna miss a pogue day off..."

"I think I'm willing to sacrifice one day just for you,"

A blush spread across your cheeks and you said, "...thanks."

You'd woken up feeling like shit, with a fever and an aching body, but you were never one to let anything bring you down so you popped some Tylenol and went on your way.

But the pogues knew something was wrong right away because you were usually the life of the party, bouncing uncontrollably all the way down the dock and talking animatedly about whatever it was that had piqued your interest that day.

But not today.

Today you were relatively silent, refusing a beer and a puff of JJ's blunt.

You'd had off days before, they all did, so none of them pushed you to tell them what was up.

Until you stood up too fast and nearly fainted.

Thankfully, JJ intercepted your body before it could hit the water and laid you down on the floor of the boat. Everyone fanned your face and Kie pressed a cool water bottle to your forehead.

"Y/N, you're burning up," she said. "I think you have a fever."

"What?" JJ said. "Seriously?"

You couldn't help but cry a little bit at the statement, the concern in everyone's eyes making you feel worse.

Which JJ could tell. "Come on, I'm taking you home."

"What? No-" you sat up quickly - too quickly- and had to catch yourself before you fell back. "Seriously, don't let me ruin your day, I can walk home."

"Y/N, you can barely sit up, let JJ take you home," Pope said.

"No, come on, he probably doesn't want to be around me anyway. You'd much rather stay here and drink and smoke with the pogues, right?"

JJ was silent for a moment, narrowing his eyes at you before he leaned over, grabbed your wrist and hip, threw you over his shoulder and hopped up onto the deck with ease.

"JJ!" You protested, but he'd trapped you. You had no escape in this position.

"See you guys later," JJ said, throwing a peace sign to his friends with his free hand before continuing his trek towards your house.

"JJ!" You tried again, pounding against his back. "Put me down!"

He swung you around, making you shout, but he didn't put you down, simply holding you bridal style instead.

You must've turned green because he winced. "Sorry."

Eyes squeezed shut, you said, "It's fine. You should really put me down though."

"Nope."

A few minutes of bickering later and well-

"Here we are," JJ said, setting you down carefully on your bed.

Having resigned yourself to sickness at this point, you immediately crawled under the covers and groaned.

JJ chuckled, running a hand over your forehead. "You really are burning up. I'm gonna go get you some water."

"J-"

"I'll be right back," He said, smiling at you as you looked up at him.

He pulled a water bottle from the fridge and the bottle of Tylenol from the cabinet before heading back to your room.

Your eyes were still open when he came back.

"What?"

"Nothing," you replied, smiling weakly. "Just never saw you as the nurse type."

"Never had any sexy dreams about me in a nurse's uniform?" he joked.

"You wish."

Instead of replying, JJ set down the water and Tylenol on your bedside table and picked up the thermometer that was already there.

"You had a fever before and you still came?"

You groaned. "Don't lecture me."

He didn't but he still stuck the thermometer in your mouth.

"101, wow," he said. "You are sick. And you definitely need to sleep."

You tossed your head against your pillow. How were you supposed to sleep in the middle of the afternoon with the sun shining right in your window?

Then an idea struck you.

JJ looked up from where he was surveying the thermometer and noticed your gaze. "...What?"

You made grabby hands at him. "Cuddle me?"

He shook his head. "You're sick."

"What happened to all that bravado about not ever getting sick?"

"I mean you need to sleep."

"I'll sleep better if you're with me," you replied.

He rolled his eyes but joined you in your bed anyway. "If you wanted me in your bed, you didn't have to get sick to do it."

"Shut up," you mumbled, tucking yourself into his arms with your head against his chest. "You know you've always wanted to be here, too."

He hoped his heart wasn't hammering too hard with you so close. "Maybe so."

You sighed, face scrunched up as you tried to will yourself to sleep.

JJ bit his lip.

His mother always used to sing him lullabies when he was sick as a kid. Course that was before she left.

Still, maybe he could turn that painful memory into a good one.

He started humming softly, just loud enough for you to hear, and raking his fingers through your hair.

"You call the shots babe, I just wanna be yours," he sang softly.

Sure he wasn't the most musically gifted person, but he could hold a tune and the way you snuggled further into him told him you were enjoying the serenade.

"Secrets I have held in my heart, are harder to hide than I thought. Maybe I just wanna be yours, I wanna be yours, I wanna be yours."

Forgetting the other words, he returned to humming.

You were so beautiful, lying in his arms, half-asleep. Even sick, you were one of the most beautiful people JJ had ever seen.

"I just wanna be yours," he sang one last time, assuming you'd be asleep by now.

He pressed a kiss to your forehead and went to get up but you tightened your hold.

"Don't leave," You whispered sleepily, almost slurring. "I wanna be yours, too..."

A little stunned, JJ slunk back into his former position, holding you close. "Really?"

You hummed, nodding.

JJ absolutely got your fever the next day but he'd claim it was worth it to hear you sing the same song back at him and to kiss you whenever he wanted.

[arinbelle]

So I saw a Nesta anti say they want a normal civil convo on why we like Nesta because they just don’t see it. I can respect someone trying to see a different POV so I wrote an extremely long essay on it and I think since my tags aren’t working I wanted to share this. For context, person said that Nesta is abusive and they have provided textual evidence. They also said Nesta excuses her actions because of her mental health. So they wanted to see what we see different because that is all they see. I thought I’d share this ridiculously long exposition I wrote out, since this is the most writing I’ve done in months.

Addition: I saw this creator say they understand why Nesta lashes out and acts so harmfully but their issues is the stans who excuse her actions. I do see Nesta stans who ignore some of the “bad” things she’s done but that’s really not the majority. Also if your issue is the fandom and not the character itself, idk if you’re really an anti. I hate Rhys stans, I’m not really anti Rhys. I dislike some of his actions but I more so hate his fans. It’s not the same thing.

My reply:

I think there's a lot to unpack here but I'll try my best to explain. I've seen your posts before where you bring evidence of Nesta's abuse on Feyre. And I'll give it to you. Yes. That is abuse. It's verbal abuse, it's mental or emotional abuse, and yes it's wrong. All of it is actually textbook, and yes, lots of Nesta stans like to say it's not because they are siblings but yes, unfortunately, abuse is abuse. (Addition: no one is saying verbal or mental abuse isn’t as impactful or dangerous as physical. It is. Studies have shown verbal abuse can at times register as physical pain and abuse to victims. And yes, Nesta was abusive to Feyre growing up. But my key word is WAS).

That being said, I have never thought Nesta gives her mental health as an excuse for her actions or words. If anything, she is completely closed off about what her own upbringing and traumas were like until we were well into acosf. If you can move on from the first few chapters of acotar, you can see that deep down Nesta loves Feyre and even her father.

It is Nesta who goes after Feyre and tries to get across the wall. It is Nesta who tells Feyre it is okay to go back to her life with Tamlin- and she tells her, don't come back, not in "we hate you" way, but in a, you've taken care of us, you've shouldered this burden, and I'm telling you it's okay and letting you go. It is Nesta and Elain who are turned Fae against their will, and you know, it is unfortunately Feyre's fault. Was that the goal? No. But you can understand some bitterness on Nesta's part. Even so, with all the trauma she went through in the Cauldron, she sees the importance of speaking to the High Lords about what is coming with Hybern and she does. She has a sense of morality and inner self, and she doesn't want to act like a coward even though she admits to everyone she is afraid. It is Nesta who helps in the war anyway that she can with the healers and the scrying, even though her entire life has just been upended and again, this is so scary to her. Everything about this new life is scary to her but she is trying.

Then her father dies and what little progress she had sort of reverses significantly and quickly. I will argue that Nesta has not at all been abusive to anyone past Feyre's childhood and the few first chapters of Acotar. Being mean to people who invade your personal space (Mor, Cassian) every once in a while is not abusive. It's just being a bitch. And honestly, everyone in acotar for the most part has had their bitchy moments.

She never excuses her actions and words. In fact, she KNOWS what she's doing. She's well aware of the hurt she's caused in the past and what her regrets are with her family and it tears her up inside, which is why she so rarely addresses it to herself and definitely not to others.

Why we love her? I think she's so different from all the other characters in acotar because she is so jagged. Because she admits that she's broken and sad and lost and she refuses to make it nice for everyone else's sake. That doesn't mean she keeps punishing people around her even though I've seen many antis say she does. Nesta moves away from Feyre and the IC when she's spiraling and the only times we get references of her being mean is when she's forced to meet them and play nice. Think of it this way- your dad is dead, you're grieving, you haven't had the 500 years plus of experience to navigate this in a healthy way, and people are constantly in your face either trying to get you to play nice or judging you foe it. Many antis love Rhys's quote on how Elain is nice or how Mor is so nice even though she's been through so much. But the reality is this, hurt people are HURT. They are not happy. It's not a realistic expectation for a person going through a major depressive episode to put on a facade to make everyone else feel good about themselves. It's not even in any selfish way, their mind is literally incapable of doing it because they are stuck in grief or numbness.

I think a lot of her stans, myself included love her because we see ourselves in her. Saying the wrong thing and then regretting it afterwards. Being stuck in our own minds and constantly being sad and anxious about everything and having nowhere to turn. Keep in mind that when Feyre was depressed, Rhys constantly tried to help. When Nesta was depressed, Feyre even admits rather than stepping in and doing something about it, she let it go on because she thought it would be fine. Everyone did. Cassian did that, Elain did that, even Amren somewhat. And maybe it would have been but we see it wasn't. I'm not going to argue about how wrong the entire "rehab" bit was, because that's not the point here.

In acosf we see Nesta deal with her inner demons. She reflects on her mother, who we can tell was somewhat emotionally abusive and definitely manipulative. Her grandmother was physically and verbally abusive. We hear her self doubt and we hear her tell Cassian she regrets what she did growing up in that cabin, she regrets how she treated Feyre, and she has no idea how to make it better. It is so much self hatred and it has morphed into something that forces her to lash out on people when they even slightly push. It's not healthy, but again, it's not abusive. Another issue is that besides Feyre and Cassian and Azriel, everyone else around her is NOT helping the situation. You can have your favs too but the fact is, Rhys constantly provokes and goads her. He has a grudge against Nesta and he has in writing admitted that he holds her to a higher standard than Elain. Mor tells her she wants to throw her into the Hewn City, a place known for brutalizing and abusing women. Amren calls her pathetic and a waste of space. This is a woman who is extremely depressed and on the verge of suicidal. None of these taunts and behaviors is kind and it probably does even more damage but we never hear anyone talk about that unless we bring it up in Nesta's defense.

I think there is another thing to account for. Feyre wants Nesta in her life. It is very different if Feyre said, you know what, I resent everything you did to me and I don't want you in my life. And I'll admit it, Feyre would be valid to do that. But she doesn't! That's a key fact. Feyre wants Nesta in her life, she wants this relationship intact. And by doing so, that means accepting that there will be days when Nesta will not be her best self, when she will lash out and say mean things in retaliation. It would be a very different story if Feyre went no contact. But it's not. And to be so hateful towards Nesta never really made sense to me since Feyre herself is her biggest advocate.

It is FEYRE, who stands by her sister when anyone tears her down. It is Feyre who tells Rhys off everytime he makes a snide comment and that's often. It is Feyre who explains to Cassian that she knows how much Nesta cares and how difficult it is for her to show her true feelings (this is Feyre giving not an excuse but an explanation for Nesta's behavior, something Nesta doesn't bother to do.) Feyre defends Nesta more than Nesta does for herself, because Nesta never does. I'd argue that Feyre loves Nesta more than Nesta loves herself. And even by the end of acosf it's not clear if Nesta has a good and healthy self love for herself but she most definitely loves Feyre very much.

One random thing that I see antis love to run with- Nesta didn't teach Feyre how to read. Nesta didn't know. She says that to Feyre, she's very surprised to learn this, and it's in writing. Now Feyre does say she didn't think Nesta would teach her, which also hurts but also surprises Nesta. Because she says no, we would have taught you why didn't you tell us. Because Nesta has not seen the damage she has done to Feyre with her words until they have these moments and talks. To Nesta, she was lashing out because she was so angry at their father for not doing more to keep them alive. And to be clear it did fall more on their father than any of the children. But I do believe that had Nesta realized how truly hurtful and damaging her words were to Feyre, she would have stopped. Each time Feyre admits something that affects her about Nesta's actions, Nesta mulls it over and is shocked. It shows compassion and objectivity towards herself. She sees an error in her ways and she tries her best to correct it.

Now onto the controversial reveal on Feyre's pregnancy. First things first, Rhys has no excuse to lie the way he did. None. And in our modern world, that is indeed considered spousal abuse. Now as to why Nesta said it- yeah, she does it for the wrong reasons. We hear it in her POV. She is so angry at Amren, she is so angry at everyone for lying to her and sitting around discussing her and then saying that she needs to be the respectful one. But, and this is so important, the minute she says it she instantly regrets it. She KNOWS she's fucked up. She hates that Feyre is crying and hurt and it's because of her. A truly abusive sister who's as cruel and heartless as everyone makes her out to be would have relished in the hurt she caused. But she doesn't. She just hates herself even more for what happened. And the fact that Rhys's threat doesn't even upset her, the fact that she is just so done and ready to die on that hike should tell you this is not someone who enjoys hurting anyone. Everything is aimed at hurting herself.

Antis like to say that Nesta saving Feyre and Nyx was the bare minimum. And sure. Yes. It is. But that's not the point. The point of that entire scene and end is that Nesta took from the Cauldron in anger and hate and vengeance for what was done to her. She stole it as a big fuck you to the Cauldron and everything else that forced her to turn Fae. And she fears that power and never touches it, never wants to actually use it, because she hates it. And yet, when Feyre is dying, Nesta is willing to do anything. She will use the power she fears to try and save her and most importantly, she willingly gives it back and says she will give it all back as long as Feyre is safe. The very thing she took out of anger and retribution, she will let that go. She will let it all go as long as she can keep Feyre alive. Is that not love? Is it not growth and healing?

I think one of the issues with SJM as a writer is sometimes she shows instead of telling. You need to do a lot of reading between the lines sometimes to understand her characters. Nesta especially because she is very much so an actions over words person and shes so rarely upfront with how she's feeling. And not just Nesta, we see this issue with Cassian too. Because they both do things to represent and signify love and honor and sacrifice yet their words can be jagged and mean and give off a different impression.

Just to reiterate, there's never been a time that Nesta has actively used her poor mental health to excuse and justify her words or actions. In fact, more often than not we hear more about how angry and hateful she is towards herself and how much she regrets her past. A true villain would offer excuses and justify what they've done. The most we ever get with Nesta is an explanation regarding her upbringing and trauma, and to clear it up, an explanation is not an excuse. Nesta never excuses her actions. When she's being honest with herself and her feelings she admits her errors, she admits to her shame, and she says she wants to do better and be better.

Another thing I think is important to remember is that SJM herself sees Nesta as a strong impactful character. She herself said in an interview, no, you aren't supposed to hate Nesta and she's quite surprised people do because after she re-evaluated her own writing during acotar, she realized Nesta is not the villain in this story. She's a hurt girl who's been through some horrible things and her life experiences have then impacted how she acts and reacts. SJM said sees herself in Nesta. She has denounced Tamlin as an abuser many times and would never put forward a main character with this much impact on the plot of this book and the Crescent City series if she thought otherwise.

This was super long but I'm happy you've tried to see it from another POV. I won't be getting into arguments with people who DM me or message unkindly on this post simply because I don't care. Acosf came out years ago and I'm no longer in the mood to engage with anyone who won't try and keep things civil in a conversation about fictional characters.

Have a good day!

[imagionationstation]

Hi IS!! I seriously hope you're actually taking a break from Tumblr and social media instead of reading this haha, but I've been a follower for a few months now and couldn't help but send in a little post after seeing your rant. As someone who grew up with 2012 and adores it, and also as someone who respects Rise for what it is, I understand. 2012 is a huge comfort show to me and I've definitely gotten upset when all people do is go out of their way to tell you how horrible the show is without reason. 2012 is by no means perfect!! I am extremely aware of its flaws, but I don't believe that gives anyone permission to go out of their way just to ruin it for you. To target the one criticism that drives me a bit nuts, the "real brothers" thing. Rise has a very valid interpretation of brothers! But as someone with 3 other siblings, it is not sunshine and rainbows all the time. My older siblings would make me cry, we would fight and get hurt and hurt each other all of the time, my younger sibling would tattle on me, etc etc. But we also look out for each other, and have grown out of many of those things since then. I see a lot of my own sibling situations in 2012. Sure, it doesn't get everything right (and can be purposefully exaggerated because it is a cartoon!!), but it isn't wrong either. Everyone has different family experiences, and believing that Rise is the only correct interpretation of siblings would just be a bit narrow minded. I have many, many more points I could make in regards to the sibling ordeal (and other criticisms you mentioned!) but I'll leave it here for now. Overall, just enjoy what you want to enjoy! This goes for everyone. Someone is always going to want to rain on your parade, don't give them the power to do it. It's so much easier and less tiring to spend your time enjoying something you love over dunking on something you hate. :)

Thank you <3

As I mention over here, not really in a place to drop it yet, but I may sometime in the future. Your support is greatly appreciated!

As someone who grew up with 2012 and adores it, and also as someone who respects Rise for what it is, I understand. 2012 is a huge comfort show to me and I've definitely gotten upset when all people do is go out of their way to tell you how horrible the show is without reason.

Exactly! I have nothing against rottmnt. RISE is a great addition to the TMNT fandom. It has its highs and lows like anything else. It didn't deserve the dislike that many fans gave it in the beginning.

So why does 2012 deserve the exact same treatment after its time is over? Why doesn't it deserve the same respect for its diversity?

They experimented with some awesome and iffy things.

Some things worked and others didn't. Why can't we leave it at that?

I try and read the opinions that say "I like this, this, and this, but-" and ignore anything that is pure hate or comes from an account that has never said a single nice thing about the show.

But even then, it's often always the same old list of complaints.

And, like, Donnie is downright awful with his comebacks but sometimes I find myself doing the daily quote thing to the screen when I come across someone who is being supremely unreasonable.

(Not that I'd ever actually say that to anyone. It's my stress vice.

But. I definitely think it. Very hard.)

To target the one criticism that drives me a bit nuts, the "real brothers" thing.

EVERYTHING ABOUT THIS FOLLOWING PARAGRAPH BRINGS ME AN UNNAMABLE JOY.

You hit the nail right on the head!!

My family dynamic is so similar to these boys. One of my siblings very seriously told me a few days ago that I am not at all attractive, but a few weeks ago, the same sibling also reassured me that I deserved a love interest so much better than any person the world has handed me. Freakin' Raph impersonator over here.

Literally, I have siblings who interact like Leo and Raph. Constantly trying to be the superior in the relationship and hating when the other bosses them around. But you'd almost never find them apart because they are the other's shoulder to lean on.

I'm not anyone innocent either. I've said lots of things that I didn't mean in the past and I still slip up from time to time. I'm the type of person to be annoyed with a sibling and smack/shove them. My siblings do the exact same! Teasing and mocking and crude words aren't anything crazy. It's just how our fam do family.

I have a sibling who is just as insane and annoying as Mikey, but it's so frustrating because he's either purposefully stirring chaos and then laughing when we get upset, or so innocent and confused when I'm getting mad at him for doing something similar a while later.

We get so tired of it. But it's not his fault. He's untreated ADHD and lives his life to the fullest. What you gonna do? Stifle that? Please.

We get so tired of each other.

But we're always the first to have each others' backs.

Overall, just enjoy what you want to enjoy! This goes for everyone. Someone is always going to want to rain on your parade, don't give them the power to do it. It's so much easier and less tiring to spend your time enjoying something you love over dunking on something you hate. :)

Thank you so much. I always try to remind myself of that, but some days it can be hard. I really appreciate your kind words! I hope anyone reading this is also making note of them.

I don't ever want to be a hater.

Going giddly over the boys being themselves is so much more fun.

[layzeal]

Hi! I love your analysis on the characters because you always seem nice and open minded and not the kind of "I'm right, you are wrong", that's why I wanted to hear your opinion on this topic!

I've read that one of the most important character trait of Lan Wangji is being a sadistic, and instantly I was like "what but he's not AT ALL like that". I thought that person could be an anti but actually they wanted to praise the character. I have still thousand doubts because maybe it's me who totally read the character wrong after all this time, and because I've never read such opinion on the character, neither from the novel fandom nor from the drama or donghua fandom.

What do you think about it? :)

hi anon!! thank you 💓💕❤️ i'm glad you like them!!! (and i'm glad i come across that way, even though i have certainly slipped and said some things like that hahaha)

so my first reaction was "HUH?????" but i think i understand what that person must be talking about! and while i can't say that find his sadism "one of his most important character traits", it IS something that i think it's very endearing about Lan Wangji!!

(long post under the cut lmao)

so before we elaborate, lemme specify that in this case, i am specifically talking about the sexual, BDSM meaning for sadism. here, a sadist is someone who finds sexual pleasure in inflicting pain on their partner during sex, on the same vein that a masochist is someone who enjoys being inflicted pain on during sex.

most importantly however, this pleasure tends to be exclusive to the mindset one has during a sexual situation, and does not translate to regular everyday life, so if that person was saying that Lan Wangji is a sadist who obtains pleasure from hurting ANYONE or ANYTHING, at ANY MOMENT, then i absolutely disagree with it

okay, so... why do so many people LOVE that LWJ is a sadist? well, obviously i can't speak for everyone, but for me, i love it because of how well done it was. sadism IS an integral part of Lan Wangji character, and he KNOWS it, and for most of his life? it scared him

imagine it with me for a second: you are a 15 year old teenager, who's lived his whole life following very strict rules with a very strict view of how one should behave. you never once indulged in "common teenager behavior", you never felt the need to. then, out of nowhere, a gremlin boy comes into your life as the very embodiment of those behaviors—drinking, flirting, breaking rules, causing trouble, saying ridiculous things in class, reading... forbidden material,

that boy thinks you're a stick-in-the-mud. that boy wants you to loosen up a little. that boy tricks you into opening one of those forbidden books, and laughs at the face you make about it, then runs away happily. your blood boils, your face is red, you've never felt so hot and so frustrated in your life. you want to teach him a lesson

however, next day comes and that boy and his shidi join you on a nighthunt, and you come to the realization that he's actually... not as terrible as you first thought? he's a troublemaker, sure, but he's also incredibly competent, intelligent and even selfless if the situation calls for it. that... also stirs something in you.

then, that boy comes bearing "an apology gift", two cute, white little rabbits he caught himself, just for you. you know, deep inside, he's just doing this to get a reaction out of you. that's all he ever does. so when he makes an inappropriate joke and you (before you can even stop yourself) push him out the window, hearing him laugh joyfully even after he hit the floor, you feel that stiring again, that hot frustration, and at this point... you start suspecting something. something about what this feeling is

the thing is, for as much as you want to, you don't hate that boy. you hate how he makes you feel, but you don't hate him. in fact, you start suspecting quite the opposite. but you ignore it, and you push it aside, even as you catch yourself thinking about him, and doing the things he told you about—he's always in your mind... and you don't hate it. even when you catch yourself looking for forbidden material yourself, a type that not even that boy showed to you, a type that you can relate to, maybe even fantasize with

so, imagine now, that is how your very young life is going. then, one night... you have a dream, one very different. it starts out as a memory, but early on, it changes. in that dream, that boy teases you just a bit more cruelly, says some things with stranger implications, he pushes, and pushes you, and pushes you, and you break.

in that dream, you hurt him

and not just any kind of hurt. you do something unspeakable. the most immoral of acts a human can do. you hurt him as he cries and begs you to stop. you don't

and the worst part? you enjoy it

you were so certain, up until that point, that you were a good person. that you'd never want to hurt anyone, especially like this. so why does that dream make you feel that way? what does it mean?! that boy angers and frustrates you, sure, but you never ever wanted to hurt him. so you convince yourself that it was how your young, hormonal brain processes this anger, and tries to move on

and you don't think about why, by the end, you were holding each other close. why, by the end, you'd wanted him to enjoy it as well

KDFKSHC OKAY SORRY this ended up longer than i'd planned, but this? this is a VERY very common experience for teenagers who happen to have this type of sexual inclination to have. your mind is so young and you don't know much about sex at all, but your brain and your body betray you, and you feel drawn towards fantasies that by all means should disgust you. and it scares you, it scares you because if i enjoy these thoughs, then what does that make me?? so, much like lan wangji, those feelings get repressed and turned into something shameful for themselves

AND HERE IS WHERE WEI WUXIAN COMES IN!!! because that dream lan wangji had? it gets exposed in full sound and color to the very person it was about. now, up until that point, wangxian had already been exploring their sexuality together, and after their little fucking in the woods where lwj kept trying and trying to hold back as to not hurt him, apologizing and feeling frustrated that he can't (and who could, in his place?) wwx's reaction was to continuously rile him up more and more, because he DOESN'T want lan zhan to hold back!! no restraints, right? he wants all lan zhan has to offer!!! he wants lan zhan in all he can be!! he wants it, he enjoys it, even if it hurts!!

(how lucky, that this repressed little sadist found love in someone who turned out to be a repressed little masochist LMAO)

what is endearing about that incense burner extra is that lan wangji is visibly nervous and embarrassed about this dream, even now, even after him and wwx got married and have had sex many times. this is STILL something that lwj is ashamed about. and wei wuxian's response? to be as open as possible, to reassure him that he finds it SO hot, that he loves it, that he wants him to fuck him like that RIGHT NOW!! that there's nothing to be ashamed about cause guess what? wei wuxian is SO into it too, he's egging on little 15yo lan zhan on his actions against his own younger self!! and lan wangji finally lets it go!!! he accepts this part if himself, because now he knows it doesn't mean anything bad, it doesn't mean he's a horrible person who wants to see wei ying hurt and crying (he has, already, back when everything was falling apart), because he only wants it when he knows that wei ying wants it too. he only wants it if it's a way for wei ying to also enjoy himself

soo yeah, this is what i think that person meant when they said lan wangji was a sadist. he is!! actually, for as much as i love what the incense burner means to them, i personally don't even like reading it because of how violent it can be, and i cannot blame anyone for not being able to read it, but it IS very important to his character, and such a compelling look into his mind!

but you can also imagine how much it would have scared little lan zhan, and how validating it must have been years later, to finally know that hey, it's just a dream, and me? your husband who loves having rough mean sex with you? finds that EXTREMELY hot and it only makes me love you more ❤️💞💕

[sizzlingpatrolfox]

the way i thought hobi and taehyung will show the most support to jm during face and here comes taehyung with his closed mouth. I saw pjms saying thanks to him for letting jm see armys on his fanmeet but the way taehyung made me disappointed I'll never ever go back to liking this guy like never. He's there jm's bandmate and that's it. I don't care if jm loves him he's never gonna be same for me. Once i thought vmin were defination of soulmate but the way he behaved during face??? Nope, never, nada. I did got emotional yesterday seeing his bald head but that's that and I have that sympathy for all the humans no matter the person.

He has made it very clear that he's close with his wooga, jk and hobi and that's it. I just know they were having conflicts and somehow it got fine during the time jm went to his music show (the only one who showed some public support to him maybe apart from his wooga idk what they did but I'm sure they must have done something). I can bet my kidney that of jm didn't go to his music show he would have NOT asked jm to come to his fanmeet. i have Hardly ever been wrong about jm i just know that's how it was or would have been. Imagine being this selfish. This is why i wish jm drifts from those two cause They're just undeserving of his friendship his love and his support.

"I did got emotional yesterday seeing his bald head" I'm sorry this made me laugh

I've mentioned this when JK and Taehyung released their albums: JK and Taehyung never went anywhere to support Jimin, they didn't show up for him. Jimin was actually the one who showed up for both of them. He made his social media posts, and also was physically supporting them during a few of their activities. He's always been the one keeping both friendships afloat, and this year was just further proof of that, for me. In fact, JK ignored like crazy even existed until he had to do his own promo; same as Taehyung who only mentioned like crazy when he released his album.

I don't think he invited Jimin only because he went to the music show. That could've been his reasoning, but in my opinion he invited Jimin because he was the only one available. I'm sure he would've asked Jungkook to go, if Jungkook didn't refuse to involve himself professionaly with the other members.

I also came across this earlier today lmfao. I had forgotten about it.

If it was Jimin, he would've chosen a song from all of the members. Even when he went to the lee mujin show he was like, "Taehyung and Jungkook should come here since they have nice voices. Yoongi too". And Yoongi doesn't even sing... bffr Jimin!!

During some suchwita episode, Yoongi said that they went to celebrate Jungkook's bb #1, but none of them ever mentioned anything about celebrating Jimin's. Around those days, they got together because Jin was in leave if I recall correctly? But it's like... Jimin posted a photo at Hoseok's release party, then at Jungkook's release party; a couple with Namjoon while he was filming his stuff last year. He was publicly seen at Lolla, NYC, Taehyung's music show. There is factual, definite proof that he was cheering them on and happy for them in almost every step of the way. Meanwhile we had to assume, we had to imagine that some of them congratulated him. We should assume, we should imagine that they also went to dinner to celebrate his #1.

And it's like... the people want FACTS..! I was never one to assume that the things I believe to be true, are the reality. I don't want to imagine, I don't care to imagine that something nice is going on. I need to know that it's happening.

[boss-poss]

As an american, I'm honestly not surprised. We're stupid. We're probably some of the stupidest people on the planet, honestly. Maybe not in terms of direct intelligence (we're pretty close) but definitely in terms of self preservation.

Decades and decades of being told that legions of boogeymen wait right outside our borders and across the sea, an electoral system that's just plain convoluted and exploitable, and a general ignorance of anything not immediately affecting the individual has conditioned most american citizens to frighten like a scared deer the moment someone with any authority says something threatens "democracy" or "faith".

I used to wonder how people could see everything trump has done, is doing, and promises to do and not clearly see a rotting, delusional ghoul with megalomania. I've since settled on the theory that in many people, they do see that but their fear of and hatred for the unfamiliar is stronger than their rationale and empathy for others. They literally cannot imagine being in someone else's shoes but their own or looking ahead and considering the consequences. Thinking is hard, and also the news said satanic migrants were chainsawing babies in half in churches all across the country after giving them sex change operations, trust me, it has to be true.

We eat hamburger, look at phone, and doggedly work our little lives away making a handful of rich people richer while the walls are piled higher around us. That's the fate we choose, over and over again. It's positively masochistic, but then again, the good lord says you must suffer, so why not share that suffering with the unworthy? They certainly deserve it for not being the same as you!

Not all the votes are counted at this time but I think the trend is obvious at this point. Maybe I'll be wrong and pleasantly surprised but I do doubt it. At least it's a comparatively closer race than if Biden had stuck around, that would have been a clear sweep. We're not completely under the thrall of delusion, but it still won't be enough.

So we most likely get four more years of exponential human suffering here and around the globe, a massive drop in quality of life, untold deaths that will be written off, and when the next self-serving egomaniac king-to-be appears (if the US still has elections by that point), we'll vote him in and do it all again. Because we're stupid and full of hate and ignorance and that's just the way our leaders, both national and religious, like it, and so do we.

And in a year or two, when the economy is in the toilet, when inflation is making living impossible for millions, when desperation is driving people to commit horrible acts on the regular just to survive, just be content in the knowledge that the people responsible for it all are doing just fine, just fine. You won't be, but they will, and that's what really matters at the end of the day. Pat yourselves on the back, america, you deserve all that's coming to you.

[salarta]

I wanna say some things.

I've been a Polaris fan for almost 15 years now. Fans just tuning in, and some that may have tuned out, may be frustrated with how the X-Men comics keep failing/refusing to do right by the character.

I want to give you all a look from my view, so you can see the progress.

Back when I discovered Lorna, it wasn't because of a TV show. Or social media. It was because, by pure chance, I ran across her entry on the Marvel wikia. She wasn't promoted enough for me to know she exists except by accident.

In terms of the landscape: she was in a bad position. The Wolverine and the X-Men cartoon had just been canceled after the Disney buyout, which meant any plans for her there went out the window. In the comics, she had been reduced to Havok's supporting character girlfriend again, only this time exiled to space for his Starjammers team. It was shortly after I learned of Lorna that she was put in space limbo for over a year, no appearances anywhere at all.

No place in comics. No involvement in mutant events on Earth at all. Stuck as Havok's supporting character girlfriend when last seen. No origin story. Magneto as her dad was still a big question mark, and it wasn't clear if she was even a mutant.

Here is a list of gains since I discovered the character.

Restored as a mutant

Restored as Magneto's daughter

Not stuck in relationship as a supporting character for Havok

Back on Earth, taking part in X-Men comics

Breakout role on Gifted played by Emma Dumont

Multiple good video game appearances

Has an origin story now

Led a team of her own (despite Jordan White undermining her and killing the book)

Won the X-Men fan vote

Interacting with Jean Grey again after decades of nothing

Has a PhD now

Yes, I do complain about the X-Men comics. A lot. I have good reason to be. Within that same time frame, we still have these problems that keep coming up.

Havok keeps getting forced into almost everything Lorna does

Her surviving the Genoshan genocide keeps getting treated like it never happened

Keeps getting forced onto teams named X-Factor, clearly due to Jordan White's nostalgia for 90s X-Factor

Different writers treating her like she either has no history before or after the 90s, never a full accounting

OOC depictions in various places, most notably in the recent X-Factor #4 and Trial of Magneto

Lorna is a work in progress. She spent decades getting treated poorly, with people at Marvel thinking that poor treatment was appropriate. Some of them, like White, even think that poor treatment was somehow actually good and want people to think like they do. Because of this, Lorna has ups and downs in her overall trajectory.

The first thing I want to emphasize is that as a work in progress, it's going to take time for her to get where she should be. You can't undo decades of damage in a single month or year. It's taken almost 15 years to get her where she is now, which is much better than where she used to be despite all the things still wrong.

The second thing is her profile.

Back in 2018, I talked to Jordan White on Twitter. He said Lorna didn't deserve anything. He claimed Lorna didn't have enough fan interest or star power to warrant getting the respect she deserved. He cited nothing for this view other than his general attitude and claiming he'd have more tweets directed to him about Lorna if she had enough fan interest.

The X-Men fan vote proved him wrong. In the past 5 years, we went from Jordan White writing her off as a nobody, to White clearly understanding that he can't ignore her anymore. He knows now that she has way more interest than he was counting on.

That's progress. And while it may not feel like it, poor treatment is also progress in this case. We went from White insisting Lorna doesn't deserve a miniseries, to White greenlighting a 4-part Infinity comic clearly meant to push his personal whims.

Of course, I would vastly prefer Lorna get an actual mini that treats her right instead of something that amounts to a drawn fanfic paid for out of company money. But at the end of the day, her profile and public awareness of who she's actually supposed to be as a character has grown enough that White decided to devote company resources on trying to make people think of Lorna the way he does.

That's a victory for Polaris fandom. It's part of the fight to get her where she should be. Or rather, should've been all along. Don't look at it as end of the road. Look at it as a stepping stone to a brighter future for the character.

P.S. - Jordan White didn't read the original run of X-Men comics until COVID. That's not a problem for the average person. Fans usually don't go that far back. I haven't read the original run, just Lorna's intro issues. But as senior editor of the X-Men comics, you would expect him to have read those issues much, much sooner than 2 years into being senior editor.

[maxladcomics]

"Sans doesn't read a bedtime story to Papyrus" <- okay but he literally does. It's canon. Like your entire reblog bordered on the "My hcs and interpretations are better because I'm fully canon and no one can enjoy others" carlyraejepsans level shit but I assumed you didn't mean it like that and I was used to the bullcrap so I was reading in too much. But like. :/ it's never confirmed he dOeSnT hAvE nIgHtMaReS or shit. Have fun with character analysis and hcs and have fun writing him strictly to canon but don't make stuff up and state its canon -_- you seem like a well meaning person but please actually do some research before you decide what's canon?

BUT IT'S ONLY CANON IF I LIKE IT DON'T YOU UNDERSTAND???

Anyway about interpretations/headcanons how bout that headcanon of my blog lmao. I guess that's how I come across strictly from blog view and not when I'm spamming dumb theories at people in discord oops.

I'll clarify then.

I don't like apologizing because I'm never wrong it seems like an excuse to let people kick you if you show weakness on the great old internet, HOWEVER. I will make an exception and say sorry.

I'm sorry for giving the impression or directly saying? (memory bad) that I only follow canon and that canon is obviously the best and only way to see things. That is very unfun for everyone, and I like having fun, a lot of it. I also hate controlling others or others attempting to control me (see: my entire existence in this fandom).

I have only said it on discord but I should make it clear here as well:

I purposely ignore/put down Sans's importance in anything, it could be out of spite? hatred? (I do not have the time for hate I have to draw) or simply for entertainment.

Spoiler: it's for entertainment, a majority of stuff is about Sans and I find it a lot of fun to go out of my way to remove him from concepts/ideas/theories. I've also found this very interesting because it forces me to look elsewhere for concepts/theories and see things I hadn't before because he was in the way. (I don't mean this maliciously)

Contradicting or nonsense headcanons are loads of fun, are mine better? Of course to me they are, that's why they're on my blog, that's why I post about them. Are there headcanons I don't like? Yes, a lot of them, I used to complain about them a lot in the past, but lately I'm wasting my time more efficiently by searching for stuff in Undertale for the 100th time that's not actually there.

I'm not 100% canon. Do I want to be canon? Absolutely not. Do I use canon to bully people? YES. IF YOU THINK SANS LIKES PUNS THINK AGAIN. DO YOU THINK SANS IS STRESSED WITH BILLS? HAHA JOKES ON YOU. WHAT? HE HAS NIGHTMARES? NOT ON MY WATCH.

I want to enjoy my Papyrus focused content in my Papyrus focused corner is that too much to ask? (It is)

ANYWAY. To answer the original grievance:

Undyne stays the night? (It is not confirmed if it's more than one night) at Papyrus's house, and confirms that he doesn't sleep, that specifically: He doesn't know HOW to sleep. Does this mean that he NEEDS Sans to read to him to sleep?

No. Because it's not mentioned, it could have easily been brought up at this point since Sans already puts himself in some calls already, but it's not. The only one who brings it up is Sans when he's alone, where no one else can argue it or confirm it. What if it's too embarrassing to say in front of Papyrus? Well I mean he already teases him for the junior jumble thing so it wouldn't be out of line for Sans to tease him about that, too.

BUT, if Sans reads Papyrus a bedtime story, why doesn't he remark on the fact Papyrus has nightmares? Wouldn't he have to read to him every time a nightmare woke him up? But again, Papyrus also mentions that he's just too busy to sleep, no mention of needing to sleep, or reading a bedtime story, Papyrus also doesn't bring up Sans reading, or reading to him in any context.

Anyway to argue the "Sans doesn't have nightmares" statement, I'll refer back to my thing of 'removing Sans from ideas because it's funny'. Hahahaha.

But also there's no proof Sans has nightmares, AND WHILE I UNDERSTAND THE HEADCANON- I refuse it because it's funny, but also because Papyrus DESERVES nightmares as a trait and it's unfair to take that away from him.

"But Max, can't they both get nightmares?"

NO.

[cosmic-walkers]

I really don't know how to start this, because I really don't want to be an anon accused of starting drama but I don't know if anyone else will listen to me. To save you from a long info dump, I know that you're a Tolkien poc artist and I know that you draw poc art. I'm a Tolkien poc fan as well and I've actually been following you for a while because I love your art and I also enjoy your talks about misogyny, especially when you talk about the misogyny Galadriel faces. As a poc in the Tolkien fandom though, sometimes I feel super isolated just because there aren't a lot of other poc. This is where I may offend you. I know there are tons of white people who draw poc art in the Tolkien fandom and most of that art is respectful, beautiful, etc. I also don't see a lot of poc drawing poc art however. In a way, I may have disrespectfully brought up to someone (another poc) that I wish that more poc drew poc art in the fandom than white people, and that I see more comfort for white people drawing poc art, but not really a effort to allow poc in the tolkien fandom to draw their art or feel comfortable. Okay that's confusing! What I mean to say is, is it wrong that I want more poc art from actual poc and that even though I appreciate when white people draw poc art, it is sometimes disheartening when i find out that there's no poc behind it. Especially in a fandom like this, where I feel there aren't a lot of poc (and I still wonder why), and where we can't really speak about how we feel without getting people upset? I appreciate white people drawing poc art, but there were tons of times I as a poc felt isolate and saw racism and sometimes I wonder if I am wrong or racist myself for wanting more poc to draw more poc art, and wish that more poc were getting uplifted for their art than white people. i really appeciate every single white person who draws poc for representation, but my point I think I fail to kindly get across is that I want more poc art by poc , because that means there are more poc in fandom.

I think I've been going into to many people's inboxes and this probably constitutes as harassment, and if you have white friends who draw poc art, i don't want them to be offended either so you don't have to feel pressured to answer this because I think i've offended someone else by coming off as aggressive

Whew this is a loaded ask. Lemme start by saying, I actually don't know what this about directly - at all. I've talked about similar things on my twitter (especially after trop and with hotd), but I don't know what this is about directly. So i'm going into this completely blind and ignorant. I don't know who anon is talking about or what anon i stalking about??? That said, I'm not gonna tag it in any tolkien tags but I'll respond the best I can. I also don't always like talking about racism in a fandom sense , at least not with this fandom, so it is not my attention to offend anyone.

So i'll start by saying (again akdlafj;) that no - i don't think that in general, there is anything wrong with white people drawing characters of color. In fandoms like this fandom, where there aren't a lot of poc, i do appreciate seeing white people do what they can do represent us.

That said, I am black so I also understand what you mean. Here is my overall opinion on the matter - While i think it is important that everyone draws poc art, and while white people are amazing for doing what they can, I'm always going to support actual poc artists more for drawing poc art. I also think it's important that poc have spaces to talk about this, because some poc may not like when white people draw poc art and, that is okay. Some poc, especially from more complex and closed cultures may be uncomfortable with seeing that recreated disrespectfully from an outsider. I know that, there are closed/sacred parts of my culture that if I saw someone who wasn't part of that culture drawing it, then I would be upset. The issue too is, if you cannot speak about that, how you as a poc are upset in some instances with that, then that is a problem.

While it is an important discussion to have that white people should draw diverse art, not all poc have to be happy with that especially if a.) poc artists in the fanbases aren't getting as much love and support as white people who portray our culture and b.) if the fandom has an issue with racism and isolating poc, but they still draw our culture and art.

So this is where my talks from twitter come in. The rings of power was a huge show for tolkien poc, and so many of us felt represented. I mean, black elves and dwarves? The queen of Numenor being a black woman? Black hobbits! Old and new poc tolkien fans had a good time because it was the first time in a canon adaptation we got to see ourselves in positive lights!

But then, a lot of people- a lot of white people who have always drawn diverse tolkien art (i.e black fingon), and who have always talked about needing more diverse characters but also wanting to bring in more poc into the fandom, were extremely racist and hateful toward the rings of power. The way a lot of 'progressive' tolkien fans who draw diverse characters, actually treated a canon depiction of tolkien that had black elves, that had poc, was honestly deplorable. it was disgusting. And to ME, at least as a Black fan, who just recently joined the fandom around the time of trop (but i had also read the silm before, and when i joined i loved to go look back at tons of fandom discussions) that was very hypocritical. I finally saw myself in Tolkien's work, but people who draw characters with my skintone and my hair, completely trashed that work, said it was horrible, mocked anyone who liked it, etc., yet still went about their day taking my culture, wanting representation, etc. Me and my friend (who is east asian) commonly speak about how that made us uncomfortable and how seeing a lot of diverse art from those very spaces makes us uncomfortable

This is where perhaps you and I share a similar mindset. Also, important to note no, you as a poc are not racist for being uncomfortable with white people drawing poc for any reason. It can be a big or small reason, at the end of the day, racism and white supremacy is something that you're going to suffer from, and you have a right to be uncomfortable with how people portray you or your culture.

My opinion on this is every changing, and it's a lot easier for me to talk about it in this space then rant about it on twitter. I think that especially in fandoms that are predominantly white, it is very important that we see representation. At the same time, we have to ask ourselves why those fandoms are predominately white, and we have to recognize fandom trends. For instance, do white people who draw diverse characters sit down and listen to poc in their fandoms or cirlces when they talk about racism, or are they disrespectful to us. Another example again is the rings of power; if you are going to draw diverse characters, are you going to actually listen to poc who talk to you about how harmful and racist some of your rings of power trends can be? Are you going to listen to poc who talk to you about how racist some parts in the silm and lotr are, or are you to attached to that work to actually listen? And if you dont listen to us, will you continue to draw poc art.

As a black person, I am always gonna be more comfortable with my poc art coming from a person of color, because I have seen way to many times white people drawing poc art for representation, but when they or their friends do something racist, or when their fandom is racist and poc call them out, those very poc get attacked.

And it's not all white people who are like this, I wanna clarify that. Because I've seen tons of white people who listen respectfully to poc.

At the same time tho - if a fandom is predominately white to the point where there aren't enough poc in the fanbase to actually draw our own art, then that in itself is an underlying issue that needs to be discussed, because that is not good. THOO after witnessing the fiasco that happened with the rings of power, I understand why.

AT THE END OF THE DAY, i'm always gonna support poc. I'm not super involved in the tolkien fandom that much past drawing just because i've gotten more into drawing for asoiaf/hotd and am very regretfully involved in that fandom - but im gonna leave soon because that is too much. But there are a lot of poc in there who draw poc art, and for the petty discourse, I feel the most comfortable and accepted as a black artist there.

To conclude this, I'm not here to speak over poc at all. If you are a person of color and you think that white people drawing diverse art is okay, then it is? because that is your culture to and your feelings as a person of color and that's amazing.

Likewise, if you're a person of color who doesn't want white people drawing poc art at all, especially if you feel some artists can be fetishy or racist, then that is okay too. as a black person, there are many times when people draw black characters in caricature ways, whether it be in personality, appearance, etc...

for me i am in the middle and my opinion on this forever jumps. I however tend to be more comfortable seeing diverse art, from people of color, just because I tend to realize how little actually artists of color are celebrated in fandom spaces, especially predominately white fandom spaces.

Putting this down again that i don't actually know what this is about specifically- so if i'm stepping on anyone's toes I greatly apologize because that isn't my point. I'm just answering anon the best I can.

[staringdownabarrel]

Anyway, here's some broad thoughts on the initial Riftwar trilogy.

I'm not really sure if it's really correct to describe this as a trilogy in the strictest sense. Yes, Silverthorn and A Darkness at Sethanon are two parts of the same story, but broadly speaking, they're more like a sequel duology to Magician than they are parts two and three of the same trilogy.

I know there's probably going to be people who read that and point out that a trilogy doesn't need to have an overarching storyline, it just needs to have the same set of characters, and that's fair enough. I don't really agree with that sentiment in this specific example though because everything, or at least almost everything, that Raymond E. Feist has written that's come since this initial trilogy has had that overarching storyline within the duology/trilogy/quadrilogy.

Really, I feel like a better description of this trilogy would be Magician, which has the titular rift war in it, and then the Great Uprising duology (e.g., Silverthorn and A Darkness At Sethanon). That'd be a better description of what the actual stories being told across these books are.

I think it'd also be a better reflection of the actual authorial intent on this point. Initially, Magician was written as a standalone novel, and then Silverthorn and A Darkness at Sethanon written because Feist felt he had more to write about this world. (This is also why it's described as a trilogy, despite my current diatribe of contention about this.) These two books are a sequel story, so it'd make sense to describe them as such.

Still, that's a very nitty gritty point and I'm not really sure anyone else is ever going to care enough about this to really strongly agree or disagree.

My other nitty gritty point of contention is really just a point of contention with the specific editions of Silverthorn and A Darkness at Sethanon more than anything else. Usually when a chapter ends and a new one starts, there's a page break at the end of the chapter. Every other book I own does this; so do most of the other books I've ever borrowed out from a library has done this.

My editions of Silverthorn and A Darkness at Sethanon don't do this. When one chapter ends, the next one will start on the same page. I guess there's nothing specifically wrong with doing this, but I'm not really a fan of it and I just think it's visually better to start a new page when you're starting a new chapter.

In terms of what this trilogy does well, I think it is good that the latter two books start to move away from the very basic fantasy world that Magician set up. Yeah, it's still kind of generic and it never completely gets rid of that mantle even in later books, but I think it does eventually do a good job at building on the foundations.

I am a little bit disappointed that it's just a generic fantasy setting, especially given that I thought the world of these books when I was in high school.

I think a lot of my response to these books now is based around how everything is expected to be this super layered take on its genre that deconstructs this or subverts that or reconstructs something else. Raymond E. Feist has never really been interested in doing that. I forget what interview he said this in, but he did explicitly say that he just ignores genre expectations and writes the stuff he wants to write, which is fair enough.

The other thing influencing this is that I tend to now really like it when a story touches on deeper themes. It doesn't always have to be the most thorough exploration of the themes known to man, or even more than a "Hey, this is a thing that's necessary to make this story work the way it does; read into it what you will" kind of thing.

This wasn't so much the expectation that I had when I was fifteen or sixteen. Back then, I was much more wiling to accept a story on face value, even if it never got into the nitty-gritty of how certain aspects of its setting work, or at least provide enough detail you could extrapolate chunks of it.

Nowadays, I just find it a little bit frustrating when a story doesn't do that as much. I get that some people just want simple escapism, and sometimes all I want is a bit of escapism too, but I think it's possible to do both escapism and have some stuff you can read into.

For the most part, Raymond E. Feist does the escapism part well, but not so much the stuff you can really read into. In fact, there's times when he actively tries to avoid having that kind of stuff in. Slavery, for example, exists in the Kingdom, but it exists only among the same kind of lines that exist in the US's thirteenth amendment (actually stricter--Kingdom prisoners only get enslaved for a life sentence). Free speech is more or less legally guaranteed, except for when a mad king and the villainous duke whispering in his ear try clamping down on it.

So while he does encourage the escapism part, his response to what the Kingdom's government is like is to hand wave it away and say, "Don't worry about that. The people have most of the same rights you do, except the right to vote." I have some issues with that, and I probably will get into it once I work out how to fully articulate my issues with it.

I understand why people would want this, and fantasy does have the reputation of being the escapist genre, but I think it is possible to have it as an ongoing thing that there's certain ongoing political problems that never fully go away, despite everyone's best efforts. Feist has already proven that's he's capable of doing that with the Empire trilogy.

I think I probably would enjoy this more if I was able to switch my mind off a little more and just enjoy the escapism. I can't really do that anymore, unfortunately.

It's also been interesting to see how much Feist's writing style has influenced my own, even after over a decade of not reading his books. Obviously I don't write fiction that much anymore--I mostly write lengthy rants about whatever media I've been consuming lately now--but there are certain stylistic things he does that I've been doing for years.

For example, he has this thing where when he starts a new chapter, the first sentence will be its own short paragraph, and then everything after will be a proper paragraph. This is something I've been doing for years. I'm assuming I probably initially did it to explicitly emulate him because I actually was genuinely a big fan of his books when I was in high school and in the years immediately after, and then just forgot this is where I picked it up from.

There's also times when there's been very specific features of a chapter that I recognise as something I also did in the dogshit short stories I was writing in high school. There was this one point in A Darkness at Sethanon where Arutha and company notice some features of Armengar's fortifications, speculate on their purpose, and then later have them explicitly confirmed by Guy du Bas-Tyra without having brought them up to him.

This is the kind of thing that I used to do as well. I vaguely remember having short stories I wrote in high school where that kind of thing was a part of the plot to characterise someone as particularly perceptive, or even occasionally just to pad out the word length for no reason.

Stuff like that has definitely gotten a "Huh, that's interesting" response from me. I don't necessarily know if I'd go as far as to say this kind of thing is bad writing, especially now I've admitted that it's influenced my own at various points in my life, but it is interesting to see how it has. Usually when I think of books that directly influenced me in some way when I was sixteen, I usually think of the Mortal Instruments trilogy, which actually did influence me both in ways I can explicitly describe (e.g., I drink my coffee black because Clary Fray did; I have a cat named Chairman Meow because Magnus Bane did) and ways I probably never will be able to fully explain.

It's not exactly surprising, though. What'd be more surprising is if this series, which for years of my life I considered to be one of my favourite series ever written, hadn't influenced me at all. I just didn't quite realise the ways in which it had until the last month or so of my life.

Anyway, that's all I've got for now.

[du-hjarta-skulblaka]

Reblogging as my response to your reply was getting a bit dense lol, apologies in advance. I will completely understand if you ignore this it got away from me a bit.

I came across both of the articles you linked. I completely agree that his attitudes and understandings are clearly far from ideal, but it very much comes down to...I guess I'd call it understanding vs intent? I've read a handful of articles wherein he reiterates his belief that trans people deserve to feel safe and respected in hospital environments dating at a similar time to these two; not sure if you've seen that one post going around, talking about how earnest if ignorant support is far more useful and welcoming than perfect language with ulterior motives? Not a perfect comparison, but it's the best way I can describe my feelings here.

Having also had a look at his twitter, he seems to be consistent in voicing support for trans-inclusive policies and in responding with respect to trans commenters. Yes, he's wrong on some very important things, but frankly? I cannot remember the last time I heard anybody in a position of power speak about me like I was a real, living human being. His understanding is outdated, but he is advocating for respect where others are reducing us to predators and statistics.

I actually think he may have the perfect approach; flawed as it is he is presenting ideas that people who are on the fence/do not have a deep knowledge of trans issues can more easily be receptive to. I'm happy to save deconstructing biological sex for a later lecture if I steer people towards actual transgender resources instead of the radfem meatgrinder.

Obviously my opinion isn't going to be the same as every other trans person, but having discussed with a few close to me our consensus is that simply being acknowledged as something other than a threat or a disease is more than any of us were expecting, and that even if you're right and this is all pish, he's still the new head of healthcare publicly saying that trans people have rights. Can you honestly tell me any of us were expecting that today?

All that being said I'm with you on the last part and I'm absolutely not trying to sing the guy's praises. I'm just...really ready for anything close to a win, and the guy gave me a shred of hope for the first time in a while. Thank you for the response and I hope mines comes across in positive spirit its intended in.

Do you have any thoughts on Wes Streeting? Just seen an interview with him discussing trans health care and it's so much more supportive than I ever thought I'd see in recent years.

Wes Streeting is absolutely awful. Genuinely the first time I’ve heard someone say he’s spoken positively about trans healthcare. He’s been a flip-flop mess over it since he was made shadow health secretary.

He also wants to privatise the NHS. I do not trust him at all.

[two-sides-samecoin]

I know I've brought it up a thousand times but I was watching season 4 and Nancy lying to Wayne is so painful. This man has found a dead body in his home, his nephew is missing and possibly committed a murder and he says he doesn't want to talk to reporters and Nancy Wheeler just comes in, lies, says her paper is small and doesn't have the staff to keep up with the big ones and she's just looking for something, anything about what happened last night. And then after Wayne says that she probably has it all figured out and she counters with "You've been talking to the post, yeah, Chuck Bailey, he doesn't know his ass from his elbow." AND THEN SHE FREAKING SAYS LET ME TELL YOUR SIDE OF THE STORY. And oh my god, it makes me so mad because she lied to this man who again just found a dead body and his nephew is missing and said that I'll tell your side of the story when it comes across that she'll never write it, especially later in the season and Nancy just uses him for information. Does she want to sell it to a bigger paper? Does she intend on publishing it in the school paper? Does she intend on writing it at all? It doesn't matter because she freaking lied to get her information, showing a lack of integrity. If she just lied once to see Victor Creel or they show her having some doubts, I would be fine. My problem isn't with Nancy doing bad things, it's about the narrative twists them into good things or ignores the bad things. Like and Nancy isn't the only character who gets the whole narrative is on their side thing, but she's never been on the opposite end. The show never shows her as wrong. Like with Robin in the library and at Pennhurst is the closest we get to Nancy realizing that she's wrong but she doesn't learn from it. She doesn't see Robin as having her own strengths, she looks annoyed when Robin makes the point that a mystical journal could have the answers they are looking for. And that's fine, but she doesn't value Robin's perspective at Pennhurst, she doesn't learn, I guarantee if they hadn't gotten in, Nancy would have blamed it on Robin's interuption, despite the fact that Nancy's approach wasn't working anyways. Anyways feel free to ignore this, this is just me venting and I have not verified a lot of the information in here except for the Nancy Wayne conversation.

lol this was a few days ago - sorry i haven’t been keeping up. anyway YES seeing nancy and wayne interact is painful! and the narrative doesn’t even fully set it in the painful manner it is- i believe it only has something sinister going on because of what is happening with fred in the background. Wayne seriously has gone through so much and the one person who he thinks is on his side: uses an agenda to get info out of him. someone who also doesn’t fully end up believing him anyway. Wayne doesn’t want to talk to anyone but then gets comforted by nancy’s words in a way with saying that she’ll post his side of the story which in grief and pain: you most likely would turn to that because you want someone to hear your side.

okay but nancy saying that fr shows me that she hasn’t learned a thing from season 3! with the elbow comment like now she’s trashing someone else professionally all to get Wayne to side with her. she’s using her personal bias of someone to get Wayne to talk about something that is traumatic to him. yeah her lying does show a lack of integrity ! it’s also like she specifically used someone’s pain to get some info (and while it did help her out in figuring this shit out- it’s like she very much used this tragedy to her advantage- hell she even lies about why she’s in the trailer park which she lies about checking up on max. which is something that she NEVER did!) same like it’s no the fact that nancy is lying - it’s more of how the narrative goes about it! they just never address it being a negative trait - it’s seen as some heroic act. it’s not! and it would be so wonderful to make it seem as some growth with her but it’s never used in that way.

yeah like nancy isn’t the only one that gets this treatment from the narrative but it’s so present with nancy! i totally agree with that about how nancy would probs blame robin for her blurt out moment if it didn’t work not realizing that her plan was bound to fail anyway like sorry but their plan was so half baked and nothing solid was coming out of that. honestly robin is the true mvp of that pennhurst trip!

[jjk-anime-horray]

Mr. Steal your Girl

Suguru Getou x Reader

Summary: After Getou catches Gojo cheating on you, he finally becomes fed up with his bestfriend's bullshit. So, he does the mature thing, he goes and tell you what happened, and makes you his in the process.

Note: I had this thought in my mind forever, so I naturally write it down to preserve it. Please take this offering as my first unholy sacrifice to the Jujutsu Kaisen fandom. Please enjoy!

Warnings: This is NSFW! This is Smut! Please don't read it if you are uncomfortable with those things. Cheating (from Gojo), Sex, fluff, Reader is Female and or has Female anatomy , and Angst (Cross posted on my ao3).

When Suguru Getou, your boyfriend's best friend, and your good friend came knocking on your door after 8:00, you honestly didn't know what to expect. Was he injured? Your line of work was notorious for that. So, when you peered through your key hole to see his slender eyed face distraught, your first instinct is to open the door.

"Suguru what happened?" You say in a lower and mellow tone of your normal voice as to display concern. "Are you hurt?"

"No no, you got the wrong idea!" His black maned body lifted in his hand in a slight waving motion as a common action to calm someone down. "However, I have something to tell you. Can I come in?"

"Of course you're my friend, and I'm always here for you! Next time can you give me a little warning will ya?"

"Yeah, of course (Y/N)." He said while moving his body through your apartment's entrance, and swiftly plopping himself on your couch next to your body, already sitting there.

"Oh!" You say remembering something. "Do you want anything to drink or eat? I've got some left over pizza in the fridge if you want it! Hold on let me just go get it."

You quickly push your hands onto the cloth underneath you to lift your weight off of the couch, only to have your arm be weighted down gently by the man next to you.

"You don't need to get me anything (Y/N). Plus, I don't have an appetite right now anyway. Can you sit back down I really need to tell you this?"

He looked you dead in the eyes. Onyx eyes swirled with not their usual playfulness, but uncertainty and concern instead. Triggering you to sit back down on the fabric below you with the same feelings.

"What's wrong Suguru?"

"Well you see....." Words fell dry in his mouth. How was he supposed to tell you this without making you cry? He never wants to make you unhappy. He especially doesn't want you to cry because his friend is skank, and a piece of shit.

He looked over to you with sadness in his eyes, swirling in them with glassiness around the iris'. He thought about all of the times he looked to see you so happy with him, lips letting out gorgeous laughter, mouth curling into a beautiful smile, and your excitement burst at something with joy. But then his mind went to the blonde bouncing on Satoru's cock, moans leaving her mouth that were supposed to be coming out of yours for him. While she was pretty, she didn't nearly compare to you, and while she was sexy he couldn't even be slightly attracted at the thing bound to ruin your relationship. It angered him, enraged him, that his friend was stupid enough to hurt or give up something like you. However, his stupidity gave him a a direct chance to finally get what he wanted. I guess he could thank his dumb platinum blonde of a friend for that.

"Satoru is cheating on you."

"What?" You said, but you could hear him completely fine. It was out of disbelief.

"Look (Y/N), I'm really sorry. This probably isn't how you wanted to fine out. I just walked in on it, and I couldn't just not tell you when I was, you know.... there."

More and more consoling words spilt from his mouth in an effort to comfort you, but you cease to even register them as you started crying. Salty tears started to trickle from your eyes, and down your cheeks. You felt embarassed, jealous, and sad all at the same time. You knew of his past behavior, why did you expect anything to change?

"Wow, I'm an complete idiot."

"What (Y/N)?! Don't say shit like that! That's completely untrue. You're talented, funny, you-"

"Suguru, I knew of his past behaviors, I let my feelings ignore them, and I expected him to change. I'm a fool for that."

Why would you think he would change. Fuck, you gave your heart to the wrong person. You should have known! The trickle of droplets cascading down your face only started to grow even more. You didn't want to be crying in front of your friend. You didn't want to be crying at all! This was your fault for failing to see that people hardly change.

To Suguru it was heartbreaking to see you in a condition like this. If Gojou was anyone other than his best friend he would have beaten him to a pulp already.

"Hey, Suguru." You say, voice cracking as you tried to hold it together, and peaking your head up slightly from the position pressed into your knees.

"Yeah (Y/N)?"

"Could you give me a minute to cry this out, alone? I don't like you seeing me like this."

"Okay. I'll go into the other room, but I'm not leaving you completely alone when you're emotionally distressed."

"Thanks Guru'." You say as he left to go into the other room, away from your water works.

"Anything for you (Y/N)."

With him finally gone could finally let it all out, and truly just let yourself cry. Now, not having to worry about embarrassing yourself in front of your friend. Your eyes turned puffy the more you let out your pent up emotions. The same eyes turned redder the more you let out your anger because of the situation (through your tears). Red eyes turned your shirt wet, and completely soaked from the water streaming down your face. However, the more you let it out, the more you started to let it go. Yes it hurt, but no it wasn't something you couldn't recover from. Yes you were losing your friend, but no you weren't losing Suguru from this because he wouldn't be here right now if he was siding with Gojou. You hands drifted to your phone to text your best friend, Shoko, what happened.

Gojo cheated on me. Your fingers glided to press into the screen.

You waited fo couple of minutes, well only one, until a notification lit up your screen in response to your text.

You're kidding me

That son of a bitch, want me to murk him?

Do you need me to come over?

Multiple messages came bombarding in one go. You were glad to see that she was as pissed as you were. Making you halt your crying into snickering and laughter at your friend's eagerness.

No you don't need to come over

I know u r working, and Guru' is already here

He's the one who told be

Another light flashed onto your screen.

Okay, just tell me if you need anything

Luv you babes!

She never failed to make you smile, even if she was sneaking a smoke. In which that you hated.

Luv u too

"I heard laughter so I assumed if it was safe to come back in."

A certain man came around the corner with a glass of water and cloth his hands.

"Yeah you're right, Shoko is the best sometimes."

You felt a large weight lower half of the couch, coincidently lifting your eye level up to be more on par with a certain pair of slender ones.

"I brought you some water, crying drains a lot out of you, and I don't want you to get dehydrated."

"Thanks Guru, it means a lot."

You take the cup from his hand. Your fingers met with his fingers and the glass as you shifted the water from his to your hands. Then to lifting it to your lips you take a large gulp of it. Causing a little drop of water to dribble down your chin in the process of your refreshment.

As the water dripped down your chin you felt a thumb connect with your check, slowly making it's way down your skin to your lips and chin to imprison the that had escaped onto it's creases.

"Hey (Y/N) I have a damp cloth right here to help with the swelling of your eyes. Can you close them for a sec?"

"Sure."

With your eyes now closed you felt a cool presence over your eyes, but it did more than help the swelling in your eyes. It also calmed you down, but you knew it wasn't the cloth that was calming you down. It was the male pressing it gently into your face. And the one that gently removed it from your eyes when the right amount of time had passed.

Unveiling your eyes you look to Suguru who was currently placing the items he had gotten for you on to the table in front of the two of your.

"Guru' "

"Yeah (Y/N)?"

"Come here."

You said come here, but you didn't actually wait for him to move as you want to him first enveloping him in your grasp with a hug. Your head burying into his shoulders and chest.

"Thank you Suguru, for everything."

"No problem (Y/N), are you sure you're okay?"

"Yeah I'm okay, I just wish I could forget about him."

"I could make you forget about him."

"What?"

"I said" Hot breath fanned across your ear, while you didn't know if it was the intimate position that the two of you were in, or it was the black haired man that was unbelievable gorgeous talking that sent shivers down your spine. "I could make you forget."

"Please (Y/N), let me make you forget." That last sentence was the last one needed to shift the mood completely. What was a light hearted one now turned heavy from the impending building lust that the two of you secretly shared for the longest time.

You felt hot lips trail down your neck, slow kisses dancing across the expanse of your skin down, only to quickly trail back up to your ear, and then your jaw. Wetness was placed right next to your lips, but not onto them.

Onyx eyes pierced into yours looking for a awnser. They swirled with want, desire, and love as they looked at your right in front of you. It was so intoxicating that you could help yourself from being completely lost in them.

"Suguru, please make me forget." You let out with a needy whine, wanting to get lost in his lips more than anything.

Then predatory orbs locking in on it's prey, and he pounced onto you locking you into a seering kiss as lips collided, and you were pinned under him.

His lips glued themselves to yours, hot, needy, and loving. They constantly alternated from hot, lustful, rushed kisses to slow, romantic, loving one that were offering you all he had to offer. You missed the feeling of them on you when he pulled away.

"You want to forget (Y/N)? I'll make you forget that that ungrateful bastard ever touched you, and that all you can think about it is my fat cock inside of you. You want that don't you?" Finishing his sentence he attached his slips to the sweat spot on you neck, causing you to silt your head, and grind your clothed sex onto the knee pinning you down to the couch.

"Please."

"Great, but lets get you undressed first, I want to see all of you when I ruin you. Strip for me, I bet you can do that angel can't you?" To allow you to put on a show for him he sat back onto the couch, staring at you with a ferocious hunger that was about to be fulfilled.

Obediently you sat yourself up onto the couch, and hooked your arms onto the bottom of your shirt to reveal your barren body with glorious feature to him.

"Fuck princess, no bra? Dirty girl~" He latched himself onto your breasts. Caressing, pinching, pulling with his right hand on one breast, and his mouth, sucking, teasing, and squeezing the other playful mound of flesh. He slowed his ruthless pace to speed in up then slow it down, again, again, and again. Alternating which breast got which part of his body, and it was driving you insane. And you couldn't help Letting out little whispers, whines, and groans as he did.

"Guru, stop teasing me please."

"I'll stop teasing you when you when I stop finding you amazing, because fuck I could play with you like this forever."

"Guru, please touch my cunt, please!" You said, letting out a whine, and bucking to his erection trapped in his sweats as you did so.

"Using dirty words I see. Princesses shouldn't talk like that darling, but who am I to not give pleasure to someone who's so honest about her needs. I'll give you what you want baby, lift your hips for me."

With no reason to reject his off you do was he says, allowing him to slip off your pants, and little white panties in one go. Giving him a full view of your glistening sex dripping with arousal from teasing. Begging to be touched as it pulsated.

"Wet already darling?"

You gasped airily, as you felt him insert a much need finger into your dying cunt. Finally giving your pussy the attention it it needed with big thick milky fingers.

"Fuck baby you're so tight, I'm going to have to prepare you to make sure I don't hurt you because I would hate to see that."

Speeding up his finger he forced for of it into your pussy lips stretching you out in the process. Pumping strongly with fingers curling up towards your womb he hit all of the right spots inside your walls as he added another finger. Causing you to squirm and wiggle under his grasp pleasing his eyes with the amazing sight.

Feeling bad that you were being given all of the attention, you slowly reach to try to touch him, only to have your wrist snatched up with his other free hand.

"Bad baby, shouldn't you know know not to touch people without their permission? Naughty."

He brought the soft curve of your hand up to his mouth to give it a tender kiss. Only for seconds later to bring into down to your clit, and forcefully guiding you hand to out pressure on the little sensitive flesh button causing as he move your hand to circle it.

This building burning pressure turned to be too much to handle as you felt a familiar sensation burn in your lower stomach as your body prepared itself to cum. Fluttering around his fingers in the process.

"Do you need to cum?" Suguru said while gazing his eyes into yours, speeding up his finger even more than you could imagine. Rending you speechless as you gave him a rapid nod in response.

"You have to use your words baby."

"Please Suguru, please let me cum!"

"Do it baby."

The sensation bursted through your lower body as you finally got the release you deserved. Suguru encased your lips into a lustful action as you whined into his mouth pouring slick all over his fingers.

Greedily while looking right at you he swirled his knuckles into his mouth a lapped your juices with delight, and a grin on his face pleased with his work.

He looked at you with a grin on his face, and a naughty twinkle in his eye that made you know what he was going to say next while slightly pulling down his sweat and boxers to reveal a juicy cock. Long, thick, trimmed, clean. Who new your Ex boyfriend's best friend was packing more than he was? I made you wiggle with anticipation. "I think you're ready baby for my cock, do you want it?"

"Yes please, fuck me now, in this pussy right here, I want to feel you so badly!"

"Someone's eager." He said letting out a heart chuckle. "Good thing you are because so am I."

Before you could even say anything he slipped you onto your stomach and slammed into you awaiting cunt all in one go. Affectively making you let out of scream.

"Suguru!" You let out with a yelp if pleasure, and surprise from the new invading stretch.

"Sorry I couldn't wait, fuck your so tight, if I had known I would have done this sooner."

He sunk himself fully into your pussy, then stalled waiting for your to adjust to the stretch of his member. Since you two were bearbacking he could feel every pulse of your pussy as it tried to accommodate his length. And he fucking loved.

Not being to contain himself any longer he pulled himself half way out, then slammed himself back in to see all of your fuck about expressions again and to hear you whine. God, he was going to get used to this.

Gripping your ass he made himself a slow but deep pace into your womenhood once again. He continued this again, and again, and again. Until he found himself speeding up and he drilled harder into your sex, loving he way he name founded when it was being screamed from your lips.

You found yourself having to try to control your breathing as to it not being completely blown away by the main raining to you from behind. His onslaught on your cunt made you abosulety breathless. You felt your pussy contracting the more you thought about the man pleasuring you, how did you not see all of him before this.

But your thoughts were ripped away as you felt a large hand grab your jaw forcing you to look up into predatory onyx eyes. The eye contact as he was hitting it from behind, having his balls pound into your clit, and your G-Spot throughly abused made you pussy quiver in anticipation of your release.

"(Y/N) are close to summing." He said. while completely continuing to fuck you without the slightest pause.

"Yes, umm hmm!" You say nodding as you still looked into his eyes, knowing his loved the contact.

"Fuck....." He said smirking at your wrecked form beneath him "Great." Then he took his hand off of your next to harshly rub your clit, causing you too spill your release over water than you. realized. Making you see white fuzz through the orgasm as he fucked you though it.

Now it was your turn to listen to his moans as seconds later he finished his thick cum on your ass as he flopped in exhaustion shortly after that onto his arms to entrap you under him into the couch cashing your breath.

Panting, Suguru flipped you over to sit you on his lap, curling your legs around his waist, sitting you up to face his intense gaze once again.

"I'm going to go clean you up okay." But just as he's about to lift the two fo you up you stop him momentarily.

"Suguru, will stay with me please?

"I thought that was a given, of course I'm staying, I'm going to run bath."

Placing a kiss on your forehead he brought you to your bathroom, and cleaned the two of you up. Slowly cleaning everything that may have been dirtied, caressing everything on your body, he held you in such a way that it just felt right to be like it.

And sure enough he was holding you in his arms in your sheets the next morning with no intentions of letting you go. Or letting you hear the door ring as his sorry ass of a bestfriend came to offer you an apology.

This was my first smut! How did I do you guys?

Part Two

[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.