#Yeah anyway when will new information about the next season?

[skywing-human]

TDP FANDOM, HOW DO WE FEEL?

[selfindulgentpoorlywritten]

My Sweet Girl (Matthew Tkachuk Imagine)

This is by far-- I repeat, by far-- the longest reader insert I've ever written. It's my submission for @wyattjohnston 's Winter Fic Exchange, a gift for @matthewtkachuk ! Excellent URL, by the way.

The creative process here went as follows: Shelbs shows me her On Repeat Spotify playlist -> I see The Band Camino on it and remember that I love that band -> I listen to nothing but them for two weeks -> I hear the song Know It All and am struck with inspiration -> I write this and inflict it on everyone else.

I jumped around a bit while writing, so please let me know if there's anything I screwed up! This is also the type of fic that has had 20+ tabs of Wikipedia pages, ESPN articles, and stats pages open on my computer for two months, but there was still information I couldn't find, so please be gentle with any inconsistencies.

Anyway, I truly hope that you enjoy this one! I apologize for being a day late posting, my job sucks.

Rating: M

Pairing: Matthew Tkachuk/fem!Reader

Words: 26, 028

Warnings: a lot of angst

Contains: best friend's brother, friends to ??? to strangers to lovers, situationship, idiots in love, everyone knows but them, Matthew being kind of a dick, guest appearances by the Weinberg-Hughes family and Jane Gaudreau

Summary: As Brady's best friend, it was your duty to love and support him. You're pretty sure falling in love with his brother does not count as "support", but here you are.

-----

You weren’t expecting this to be as hard as it is.

Luckily, you’d been given a little warning beforehand, but apparently a week wasn’t enough to prepare yourself. Was it kind of fucked up that the news had to come from Brady, because Matthew hadn’t bothered to tell you himself? Yeah, kind of. Sure, Brady and you have been best friends for years, but it’s not like you’re not close with Matthew, too.

You hadn’t realized what was going on at first, convincing yourself not to be upset when Matthew’s texts slowed and his calls stopped outright. It had been the beginning of the playoffs, you reasoned, of course he was going to be too busy to talk to you as much. Despite the fact that communication between the two of you had never waned because of the season before. It was his first year on a new team, you’d told yourself, a team with a great shot at the Cup, at that. You could deal with missing him a little more than usual if that’s what he needed.

When you’d called him to congratulate him on passing the first round, he’d thanked you and wrapped the call up as quickly as he could. Seeing the 3:24:41 call duration on your phone afterward had felt wrong. It was one of the shortest calls the two of you had ever had.

You’d brushed it off, chalked it up to him being tired or busy. Then they’d won the second round, and the process repeated itself. A quick phone call, a few scant minutes. It had sounded like other people were there that time, so you’d convinced yourself that he would call you back when he was alone. He never did.

You got to watch Game 4 of the third series, got to watch them sweep Carolina to win the Eastern Conference. Your friend Terri had laughed and clapped as you cheered, jumping up and down like a child. She was a Carolina fan herself, but was good enough of a loser to hug and congratulate you despite it. She’d offered to leave so that you could talk to Matthew, but you’d waved it off. You knew he’d be celebrating with the boys that night, so there was no real reason to try calling. You’d shot him a congratulations text and spent the night smiling so much your cheeks hurt.

When you’d tried to call Matthew the next day, his voice had been hushed when he answered. You’d given him your congratulations, bubbling over about how well they’d played. It’s not the first time you’d had a phone call exactly like that, him letting you gush about his team’s play and basking in the attention. This time, he interrupted you before you even got a chance to really get going. His voice was still quiet, almost a whisper as he said he had to go. The wind was immediately taken out of your sails and you’d barely had time to say goodbye before he hung up.

At that point, you’d given up convincing yourself that everything was okay. Something was very clearly wrong, and you’d spent the next nine days trying to figure out what it was. You’d reached out to Brady, and he’d told you that he hadn’t noticed anything weird from Matthew at all. Knowing that, you’d tried to downplay what was going on between the two of you, lest Brady go bother Matthew about it. You don’t do well with embarrassment, so you’d preferred that whatever was going on stayed away from any third parties.

The finals started, ending rather anticlimactically ten days later in a 4-1 loss for the Panthers. Knowing Matthew, he was going to go straight back to his hotel room and beat himself up. For the last three, almost four, years, you’d called Matthew after every big win or loss, and this was his biggest loss to date. Yet your finger hesitated at his contact name, hovered over the picture of him with bedhead and a lazy smile. With how things had been going, you knew he probably wouldn’t want to talk to you, even if you hadn’t figured out why yet. But part of you hoped that he would, that everything to that point had been stress, and there, at his lowest, he would talk to you again, and everything would go back to normal.

That, of course, is not what happened.

He hadn’t answered at all. And when you’d tried a second time an hour later, it rang once before going to voicemail. That meant that he’d declined your call, but you didn’t know what that meant.

Two more days passed without you hearing anything from him, so you’d called Brady. All of this had been concerning, but that had been too much. Miraculously, you’d managed to stay calm when you spoke with Brady, sounding impressively level-headed when you relayed what happened and asked him if he’d heard from Matthew. Brady had seemed shocked at the situation, immediately calling Matthew after he’d hung up with you.

Thirty minutes later, when you’d received a text from Brady, your heart had sunk to the pit of your stomach, and it’s stayed there ever since.

Because what the text had informed you of is that Matthew hadn’t lost or broken his phone, hadn’t been sick or depressed or, god, lost in the fucking desert or some shit. It told you that he’d been with his girlfriend, and hadn’t wanted her to see him call or text another girl. Because, apparently, Matthew has a girlfriend now. And just hadn’t deigned to tell you.

When Brady had told you that she would be spending the offseason in St. Louis with Matthew, you’d tried to hide your shock. You’d cleared your throat and told Brady how great that was, even as you wanted to throw up. They’d gotten into town a few days ago, and you’d done your best to keep your distance. But Brady asked you to come to dinner at his parents’ house tonight, citing the limited time you have to see him before he goes back to Ottawa, and you couldn’t refuse.

So now here you are, curled up in a chair in the Tkachuks’ den, across from said girlfriend. Her name is Tessa, she’s 26, and she does remote work for a marketing firm. That explains how she’s able to pick up and go to St. Louis for three months, at least. She’s already recounted the story of how they’d met, a romcom story of spilling his drink on her dress at a party and getting to know each other from there. She talks about the instant connection, the way they clicked so quickly that she knew they were meant for each other. That part of the story was when you’d excused yourself to get a glass of water, just so you could stick your head in the fridge and take a few deep breaths.

Matthew and Tessa are on one of the couches, the older, comfier one. Matthew is propped up against one of the armrests, Tessa curled into his side, his arm around her shoulders. You’ve spent the night pretending not to notice the way Matthew keeps glancing at you.

Brady and Emma are posted up on the other couch, one on either side, Emma’s feet in Brady’s lap as she lounges. Emma is great, and does a great job at keeping the conversation going, despite how little you and the boys are participating. Tessa either doesn’t notice your silence or doesn’t mind, chatting happily about some film she and Emma have both recently seen. You’re pretending not to notice the looks Brady’s giving you, either.

You should really be trying harder. You know Brady wasn’t expecting you to curl up under a blanket and mope when he invited you, and he really is right about time being limited. You should be engaging, enjoying the time you get with the boys while you have it. You would, if you could open your mouth without feeling like you’re going to scream.

Eventually, Chantal calls you all to dinner. It’s easier once you’re all gathered around the table, somehow, and you’re able to talk a little. Chantal has always put you at ease, has always made you feel like just another of her children. If you had it your way, Taryn would be here too. She has a way of lovingly bullying you that always makes you feel better. Unfortunately, she’s visiting some college friends out of state. But you’re doing okay, you think, at acting normal.

Then you lock eyes with Keith, and any sense of ease you’ve gained flies out the window. You wouldn’t be inclined to say that Keith is the most observant person in the world, so the way he’s looking at you– like he knows something is very, very wrong– makes it clear that you’re doing an absolutely dogshit job at hiding your feelings. You look away from him quickly, swallowing hard and forcing yourself to talk even more. 

Maybe if you can just act normal, if you can push down the emotions and act like everything is okay, it will be. There’s nothing else you can really do about the situation anyway. Matthew has made it clear that he’s not interested in talking about it, so you’ll have to suck it up and deal with it on your own.

Dinner goes by a little quicker once you’re actually actively involved in the conversation. Typically, you help Chantal with the dishes after meals, but when you reach for the sponge at the sink, she shoos you away. She sends the girls back to the den, insisting that it’s the boys’ turn to help.

You curl back up in your chair, mind wandering as you operate on autopilot. You’re saying things, contributing to the conversation with Emma and Tessa, but you have no idea what you’re actually saying. Mercifully, they either don’t notice or don’t care.

This entire situation is fucked. What’s really getting to you, though, is how you’d been introduced. You’d walked in, giving out hugs to everyone except Matthew and Tessa. She’d approached you, shaking your hand enthusiastically.

“Matthew said you’re Brady’s best friend, right?” she’d asked. It was simple, innocuous, and true. Brady and you have been best friends for years, and that would be an adequate title in any other scenario. But it felt like a punch to the gut, knowing that after everything, Matthew had told her that you were just his little brother’s best friend. You’d glanced at him as she said it, and the intentionally cool, unaffected expression Matthew had in place still couldn’t hide the guilt in his eyes.

In that moment, you knew that he hadn’t told her anything about you, about whatever the two of you have been to each other for the past few years, and that he never intends to. There was a second where he’d made a decision, a second that you weren’t present for, that had cut off everything you’ve been to him and relegated you back to Brady’s Best Friend.

You want to pull Tessa aside, spill out everything. You want her to know that you’re Matthew’s friend too, that you’ve been more than that. More than that, you want Matthew to do it. You want him to tell her, to acknowledge whatever the hell you’ve been doing for all this time. You want him to admit that you’re something, anything to him.

Instead, you keep it all to yourself. The knowledge of everything between you and Matthew will live and die where it is now, in the minds of the two of you, and nowhere else.

June, 2018

You’re wiping down the counters when the man enters. You force a bright smile at him, still annoyed from the previous customer but doing your best not to show it. He returns the smile, approaching the register. You move to settle across from him, greeting him politely. The shop has a lot of regulars, but you don’t recognize this guy.

“I’ll be honest,” he says, giving a single nervous laugh, “I’m not really a coffee guy. Do you have any recommendations?” It’s not an uncommon question, and there aren’t any other customers right now, so you don’t mind.

“Do you like the taste of coffee?” you ask. He shakes his head. That eliminates about half of the menu, so it’s progress.

“How much caffeine are you going for?” you ask next.

“As much as possible,” he replies. The dark circles under his eyes could have hinted you to that conclusion. He has a laptop and notebook in one hand, down by his side. It’s normal for people to bring work along with them, and he’s definitely young, so you guess it’s probably school work.

“You could always do a triple shot latte with a flavor,” you suggest, your own go-to drink, “The caramel is the strongest. I can put in an extra pump if you want.” Technically, you should charge extra for that, but the kid looks kind of pathetic, and you feel bad. He can have a pity pump this once.

“That sounds good,” he agrees. You do the math in your head and punch in the price manually on the vintage register. The whole cafe is supposed to have a vintage vibe, a real hipster magnet. Math was always your weakest subject, but having to calculate totals in your head has made you a lot better with it.

Once he pays on the very not-vintage card reader, you direct him to the far side of the bar. You start on his drink, pulling shots with practiced ease. You’ve been working  here since high school, so you’ve gotten pretty good at making coffee. He doesn’t try to talk to you while you work, which is nice. There’s something oddly calming about his presence, though, and it’s helping your annoyance fade.

You hand off his drink, and he retreats to a booth in the back corner after thanking you. You go back to wiping things down, bobbing your head along with the music playing quietly over the speakers. It’s later in the evening, so you only get a few customers over the next hour. It’s one thing you like about working the night shift. Not many customers, and most of the people getting coffee around this time are tired enough to not give you much trouble, and are usually extremely grateful for the caffeine.

It’s quiet for long enough that you pull your stool up to the counter, pulling your textbook and notes out from under the counter. You start working on the homework for your summer semester, singing quietly to yourself as you read.

“You have a nice voice,” the guy from earlier says, suddenly standing in front of you. You jump, hand flying to your chest as if you’re a damsel in a period piece. You’d forgotten he was here.

“Thank you,” you say, once the surprise fades. You laugh a little, shaking your head. He laughs too, apologizing for startling you.

“Could I have another?” he asks, holding up his now-empty cup.

“Of course,” you reply, “Same cup okay?” You do your best to be environmentally friendly, so you don’t want to use another cup if you don’t have to. He says that’s okay, so you take the cup and start pulling another shot.

“Y/N,” he says absently as he leans on the counter, “That’s a pretty name.” You thank him again, dumping the first shot into the cup. It’s odd, because people are usually flirting when they say something like that, but his tone isn’t suggestive at all.

“What’s your name?” you ask, feeling like you should say something. You start pulling the second shot.

“Brady,” he says, extending a hand toward you. You look between his hand and your own, feeling rude but needing both hands to pull the shot.

“Oh, um,” you stutter, “Sorry, I’m–” He seems to realize what’s going on and retracts his hand, using it to rub at the base of his skull.

“My bad,” he says, shaking his head at himself, “I’m tired, sorry.” You smile at him, much more genuine than the first time.

“What’s got you so tired anyway, Brady?” you ask, dumping the second shot and starting on the third. His face twists at what you’d thought was an innocuous question. He’s clearly debating something in his head, so you stay silent.

“I’ve got something big coming up in a couple weeks,” he explains, tapping his fingers against the counter, “I’m just trying to be prepared.” You nod, not minding how vague he’s being. You don’t actually need to know every detail of a random customer’s life. There’s a moment of quiet as you dump in the third shot and pour some milk into a metal container.

“And I might be a little nervous,” he says, looking at his hands instead of you. You smile again, beginning to steam the milk.

“Just a little,” you repeat, slightly teasing in a way you usually aren’t with customers.

“Yeah,” he chuckles, looking up at you, “Just a little.” You smile at each other for a second, both knowing he’s seriously downplaying his feelings. You wonder what it is that has him so anxious, sure that it must be something serious. He doesn’t seem to be the neurotic type.

“What are you working on?” he asks as you pour the milk, gesturing toward your books spread out next to the register. You shrug.

“Organic chemistry,” you reply, pumping in the flavoring, “The worst class ever.” He cringes at the mention of it, which you feel in your bones.

“I’ve heard it’s awful,” he says.

“It is,” you confirm. You snap the lid back onto the cup, sliding it over the counter to him. He cradles it between his hands, but doesn’t move to leave. He’s looking up at you from where he’s hunched over, and you can’t help but stare back.

“Do you want to come sit with me?” he asks, “We could be miserable together.” The smile that overtakes your face mirrors itself on his own.

August, 2018

When Brady walks in, right at his usual time, you give him a smile and lean over the counter to hug him. You’ve become fast friends, sitting together a few nights a week, probably talking more than studying. His Big Thing is long past, and he still hasn’t told you what it was, but you don’t really mind. You get to know about his family and his girlfriend and his upcoming move to Ottawa, of all places, but you don’t need to know everything if he doesn’t want to share.

You make two of the usual latte, one for each of you. You grab your books from the shelf, meeting him at the corner booth. You get through some small talk as you both set up, going back and forth with an ease that you were surprised to find has been there since the beginning.

“Matthew’s going to come hang out tonight,” he says as he logs into his computer. He’s spoken about his brother before, so you’re somewhat intrigued.

“Any particular reason?” you ask. To your knowledge, Matthew has never been to the shop, so you’re not sure if something special is going on to spur him into coming.

“He thinks it sounds cool,” Brady shrugs, flipping his notebook open. Maybe you’d know what he’s always working on if you could read his tiny chicken scratch. As it is, you don’t mind letting him have his secrets.

You get four pages into your chapter before another customer enters, laying your pen in the divot between the pages while you go make them their drink. Luckily, they don’t stick around. It���s not awful when other people are around, but you always feel like someone is going to complain about you sitting in the dining room and studying while you should be working. But if there’s no work to be done, you don’t think there’s anything wrong with it. Unfortunately, not everyone agrees. So you prefer if it’s just you and Brady.

Another four pages drag by, reading interspersed with breaks to talk. Honestly, the breaks are also a way to keep yourself sane as you read unnecessarily complicated science.

When the next customer enters, you spring up from your chair, shooting them a smile as you make your way behind the counter. You give your standard greeting, asking what you can get them.

“What do you recommend?” the man asks. You were kind of hoping he’d have something in mind so that this interaction could go quickly, because he may be the most beautiful man you’ve ever seen and it’s making you flustered.

“Do you like the taste of coffee?” you ask. He nods, looking you up and down with a critical eye. It feels personal, feels like he’s searching for something, and you’re not sure if you like it.

“How much caffeine are you looking for?” you ask next. You do your best to maintain eye contact, ignoring the way you have to look up to do so.

“How much you got?” he asks in return. The crooked smile he gives you makes your stomach flip. You grasp for a drink to suggest, all knowledge having fled your mind in order to focus on the curl of his hair over his forehead, the glint of his bright eyes.

“A Lazy Eye would probably be the most,” you say, clearing your throat, “But if you don’t want to have a heart attack, you could do a regular Red Eye.” He tilts his head, smile turning smug, as if he’s noticed your distraction. Something about it snaps you out of your daze, slightly indignant. You’ve seen plenty of hot guys in your day, and you’re not about to look like a fool in front of him just because he’s pretty.

“Red Eye, Black Eye, Dripped Eye, Lazy Eye,” you list off with as much confidence as you can muster, “Each with one more shot than the last. Pick your poison.” Your attitude change only makes him smile wider. Your hand is poised over the buttons of the register, ready to ring up whatever he decides.

“Let’s go with a Black Eye,” he says, bearing a surprisingly sharp canine, “I’ve had a few of those in my time.” That doesn’t surprise you, with his smug face and oozing self-confidence. Something about it feels so disingenuous that it makes your teeth itch. It’s clearly an act, but you can’t exactly call him on it.

You give him his total, he pays, you get to work. You empty the last dregs of coffee in the pot into the sink and set the machine to brew a new batch. No matter how annoying a customer seems, you’re not about to serve them shitty coffee.

“Y/N,” he says, leaning on the counter, “That’s a pretty name.” It’s exactly what Brady had said when you’d met him, which makes you eye the man a little suspiciously. Whereas Brady had clearly not been flirting when he’d said it, this man’s tone is ambiguous enough that you’re not entirely sure what his intentions are.

“Thank you,” you say, dumping the first shot of espresso into the cup. Normally, you would ask for his name in return, but you’re not sure if you want to encourage him talking to you.

“How long have you worked here?” he asks anyway.

“Almost three years,” you reply. You’re not sure you want to tell him anything about your life, but you’re trying to be polite.

“Experienced,” he says, smiling like he’s a lion closing in on its prey, “I like that.” It’s cheesy and kind of sleazy, and you can’t help but scoff in disbelief. He’s watching you like a hawk, studying your reactions to everything he says and does. You dump the second shot, wishing the coffee would brew faster so this interaction could be over.

“I don’t think I want to know what else you like,” you say, crossing your arms over your chest. You used to get embarrassed and rattled by customers making comments like this, but at some point something had changed inside you. Now you just get annoyed, no matter how hot the person may be.

“Feisty,” he says, smile changing slightly in a way you can’t parse, “I like that too.” You roll your eyes, making a quiet noise of disgust. It’s not great for business to react to customers this way, but you can’t help it.

“I like it when men are silent,” you reply, able to feel how withering your gaze is. His expression changes yet again, smile getting smaller but more genuine, scrunching the bottom of his eyes up a little. That feels more natural to you, looks more right on his face. Something about the new softness in his eyes soothes something inside of you.

The coffee machine beeps to signal that it’s ready, and you waste no time in grabbing the pot and filling the cup. You hand it off to him, giving your biggest, most obviously fake smile.

“Have a fantastic night,” you say, immediately rounding the counter and heading back to the booth. When you settle back into your seat, Brady is smiling at you like you’ve told the funniest joke in the world.

“What?” you ask, picking up your pen. Brady’s eyes flick up above your head, slightly to the left, staying there, prompting you to turn around. The man is standing behind you, small smile still in place.

“Brady’s told me so much about you,” he says, and it dawns on you, “Nice to meet you, Y/N. I’m Matthew.” Your jaw falls open and you turn back to Brady, kicking him in the shin under the table. He yelps; Matthew laughs.

“You’re both the worst,” you spit, trying to hold onto your irritation and failing. You laugh alongside the brothers, begrudgingly amused by the ridiculousness of the situation.

“Sorry about that back there,” Matthew apologizes, seemingly genuine, “I couldn’t help myself.” You shake your head at him as he bullies Brady further into the booth so he can sit. Brady shoves him back, but moves his things over anyway.

“It’s okay,” you say, pointing at him, “But if you ever pull that shit again, I’m banning you from the shop.” That startles a laugh out of him.

“I didn’t know you had the power to do that,” he replies, using his crossed arms to lean on the table.

“I do now,” you say, tilting your chin up, “Gonna put a picture up of you with a big X on it and everything.” You stare at each other for a second, and he breaks first, ducking his head as he laughs.

“Fair enough,” he concedes, looking up at you through his lashes. Your heart skips a beat, but you do your best to seem unaffected. This is your friend’s brother, for Christ’s sake. You can’t be all aflutter over him. You’re not sure you have a choice in the matter.

June, 2023

You might actually kill your coworker one day. He’s such a smug rat bastard, and every meeting including both of you makes you think you’re going to grind your teeth into dust. It’s just lucky that the job is remote, so you don’t have to be around him physically. Probably best for both your sanity and his safety.

“I mean, at least you were right in the end?” Terri says, sounding uncertain through your headphones. You’re sauteeing some onions and peppers, moving them around more than you should be just for something to do with your hands.

“Yeah, I guess,” you sigh, “I just don’t understand why he wants to make me look bad.” Ian– the coworker– seems to always have some kind of comment on your work, some type of criticism. Constructive criticism is part of the game, but his is never constructive. It doesn’t help that you’re the only two in the graphics department, so he’s always there when you present work. And really, being the only two should mean that you work together and support each other, honestly.

“Because he’s an insecure man-child,” Terri replies easily. You shake your head down at the vegetables, startling as the oven timer goes off. You jab at the button to turn it off, opening the door to remove the chicken.

“I think I’ve had enough of insecure man-children,” you grumble. You cut open one of the chicken breasts with more force than is strictly necessary, grateful that it seems to be done.

“You finally wanna talk about that?” Terri asks, and honestly? No, you don’t. Ideally, you’ll never talk about it, just push it down into the darkest recesses of your mind and bury it there. Unfortunately, you possess some level of emotional maturity, which means you know that you have to talk about it eventually.

It’s hard, because despite Brady being your best friend, you can’t exactly talk to him about this. If he knew any part of what’s been going on, he’d probably go physically fight Matthew on your behalf. Part of you thinks that might actually make you feel a little better. But he’d also probably be mad that you’ve had a not-thing with his brother, and that would make you feel worse.

“She seems like a nice woman,” you say, trying to keep your tone neutral. Terri sighs, and you take your plate of food to the living room to eat.

“She’s not the problem, here,” she says. She’s right, and you know it. You really don’t have anything against Tessa, and obviously you can’t blame her for any of this. Clearly, she had no idea about your not-thing with Matthew, and genuinely fell for him. There’s no point in being mad at her.

“Yeah, well,” you push some food around your plate, “He’s a fuckface and she can have him.” The mention of Matthew has ruined your appetite, the meal now looking completely unappealing. You push the plate to the other side of the coffee table with a huff. You’ll try eating again later, you tell yourself, knowing that you haven’t been eating nearly enough lately. You can’t help it, your inner turmoil chasing away your hunger most of the time.

“He is a fuckface,” Terri agrees, adding, “But don’t pretend you don’t still want him.” Ugh. Friends are the worst, actually, and you should just become a hermit in a cave somewhere. There’s no point even trying to deny the claim, both of you knowing that she’s right.

“I’m not allowed to want him anymore,” you say, voice coming out weaker than you want to admit, “I never should have let myself want him in the first place.” In the beginning, despite being attracted to Matthew, it was easy to maintain distance. He was in Calgary most of the year, and reminding yourself that he was your new friend’s brother actually worked as a deterrent back then.

You can’t pinpoint exactly when you started letting yourself get caught up, but you’d ended up completely entangled with him. Now he’s put that distance back between you, ripping away the strings you’d been tied up in, leaving you with all these empty spaces where he used to be. And it’s making you hate yourself, knowing that if you’d just kept things cordial, restricted your attention and connection to Brady like you should have, you wouldn’t be feeling any of this right now.

“You can’t help who you love,” Terri says, so gently that it only hurts more. You’re not fragile, okay? You don’t need the softness, the careful handling. You’re not fragile. You’re not.

“I gotta go eat,” you say, not wanting to lie, but needing a way out of the conversation, “Bye, Ter.” She says your name, but you just repeat the goodbye. She sighs, says goodbye, and you hang up. What you should do is eat something and go to sleep. Instead, you eye the easel in the corner of the living room. You sigh, heaving yourself up off of the couch to go grab a glass of water to rinse your brushes with.

April, 2019

It’s probably going to become your new favorite day of the year: the day Brady comes home from Ottawa. His plane had landed yesterday, and his parents had even brought you to the airport with them to pick him up. As quickly as you’d bonded last summer, you’d only gotten closer through the season. It feels like you can talk to each other about anything, like you were meant to meet, like he’s the platonic version of a soulmate. You had patiently waited your turn to hug him after his parents, squeezing him as tightly as you could manage. He’d only squeezed back harder.

With their seasons ending right around the same time this year, Matthew had landed the same night. Knowing they’d have to go back to the airport, the Tkachuks had decided to just spend the day out instead of going home. They’d invited you to come with them, an invitation you’d eagerly accepted. They’re quickly starting to feel like family to you, and you love spending time with them. For the first time in your life, it feels like you fit somewhere.

Unfortunately, you hadn’t been able to come along to pick up Matthew. You’d had to work last night, so the Tkachuks had dropped you off at home to get changed and get going. You’d still gotten to spend most of the day with them, which would have to be enough.

You’re going over to their place today, and you decided to bake and bring along cookies. All of their local family and friends are going to be there to welcome the boys home, and you haven’t met most of them yet, so you want to make a good first impression. Besides, it’s just polite to bring something along to someone’s house.

Though Brady still tries to hug you when you arrive, despite your hands being full, the plates need to be deposited on the dining room table before he can get a real one. There are a few people chatting in the room, so Brady introduces you to them.

Most of the next hour goes much the same, Brady introducing you to family and friends, having small conversations with all of them. You know that Brady isn’t trying to embarrass you, but he has a habit of hyping you up to people. He’s more outgoing than you are, and he uses that social ease to brag about how smart you are, how talented. It feels a little like he’s trying to justify being your friend to them, but you know better than to think that Brady cares what anyone thinks of him and his choices.

The kitchen exits onto a large cherry wood deck, scattered with chairs, some of them already occupied. The back yard is sprawling, green grass lined with lush bushes. There’s a pool to the right, not opened for the summer yet, a jacuzzi positioned between it and the house. You’re still not really used to all of this, the casual wealth of the family. It’s so far from what you’d grown up with, something that had astonished you when you’d realized just how far above you the Tkachuks are.

There are a few yard games set up in the grass, cornhole and ladders and something you don’t recognize. And there, in the center of the yard, Matthew is teaching a child how to play ladders. The kid is probably a cousin, of which they have many. Matthew is barefoot, wearing a bright red Flames hoodie and black shorts that only come to mid-thigh. You’ve narrowed your staring down to a minimum, so your eyes only linger for a second or two before you turn back to Brady.

He guides you around to meet the few people braving the chilly spring weather, much as he had done inside. Everyone is so nice, saying how pleased they are to meet you, and seeming to mean it.

Your last stop is Matthew, who interrupts his lesson to hug you. It’s only the second time the two of you have done so, the first having been the last time you saw him before he left for the season. Despite that fact, he squeezes you almost as hard as Brady had, as if you’re his best friend too. Not that you’d presume to be Brady’s best friend, but. Still.

“It’s good to see you, Y/N,” he says when you pull apart, and the expression on his face tells you how genuine it is. Your smile is almost involuntary, turning up the corners of your mouth and baring just a hint of teeth.

“Welcome home, Matthew,” you reply, “We missed you.” You’re not sure what “we” you’re referring to, but it feels less incriminating than saying “I missed you”. You get the feeling that he understands anyway, beaming at you.

The three of you chat for a few minutes, Matthew introducing you to his little cousin. With there being four of you, you decide to play a game of ladders, to test the little one’s skills. He’s pretty good, for a kid, and you and Brady make sure to throw well enough to convince him that you’re trying, but still let him win. Throughout, Matthew gives him tips and instruction, so kind and gentle that it makes your heart ache. They cheer when they win, high fiving and teasing you and Brady.

You go inside to spend some time with Keith and Chantal. Chantal gives you a big hug, as if she hadn’t just seen you yesterday. Keith gives you a hearty clap on the shoulder. Taryn appears at some point, sneaking up behind you and poking your sides to make you jump. You laugh along with her, enfolding her into the conversation easily.

Time flies by, the sun setting around you, the house lights turning on one by one as darkness descends. Eventually, you end up lounging in the den with the other adult kids. From your visits last year, the chair in the corner has become yours. You’re settled in, legs folded up under you as something that no one is watching plays on the TV. Brady and Taryn get into a heated debate about something or another, and Matthew gives you a long-suffering look as his younger siblings bicker. You just smile back at him, finding the family’s passion entirely endearing.

“Seventeen years of this,” Matthew gripes, clearly not as annoyed as he’s trying to seem.

“And sixty more to go,” you reply. Matthew chuckles at that, looking to Brady and Taryn with such fondness that you almost can’t stand it. It’s the kind of relationship you’d wanted with your own brothers, but that’s best not to think about.

“Hopefully,” Matthew says, turning that fond look toward you. Your heart skips a beat, and you’ve gotten good at ignoring that.

May, 2019

You shouldn’t be this nervous, but you are. Terri is on speaker phone, telling you about her new job. You’re half-listening, staring at the clothing laid out on your bed. You’ve been agonizing all morning about what you’re going to wear, how you’re going to do your makeup, if you should wear makeup at all.

“I’m glad that your boss defended you,” you say to Terri, still tuned in enough to follow her story, “She seems cool.”

“She’s so cool,” Terri gushes, “She’s my favorite now.” You’re so happy that Terri has finally found a good job, especially with how hellish her previous one had been. This one pays almost double what she was getting before, too, which definitely doesn’t hurt. She expounds a little more about the things she loves about her boss, and you decide to hang back up the dresses you’ve laid out. It’s still a little too chilly to wear them, especially after sundown.

“You’re still staring at those damn clothes, aren’t you?” Terri asks, switching the topic suddenly. Your face gets warm as you make a plaintive hand gesture, despite her not being able to see you.

“Clothes are stupid and I can’t decide,” you complain, trying to imagine how each of the final two options will come across. If you try too hard, Matthew might think that you think this is a date, but you still want to look good. You know it’s not a date, but you’re still kind of acting like it is, and it’s embarrassing.

“Definitely wear jeans,” Terri advises, “That’ll make it more casual.” You agree, putting away the skirt you’d paired with the one shirt, trying to picture how it would look with jeans. You move the pants between each shirt, before giving up and just putting them on. You’ll just try on both outfits and see which one you like better.

Once dressed in the first option, you take a picture to send to Terri. You look at yourself in the mirror, turning this way and that. After a minute or two of consideration, you switch tops. You take another picture and send both to Terri for her opinion.

“Oh, definitely the second one,” she says, “The first one makes you look like you’re going to a job interview.” You look at the picture again, and can’t deny that she’s right. You put that one away, settled in your decision. You’re not sure if Matthew has ever seen you in anything but jeans and a t-shirt, so you hope the red tank top layered with a tucked-in sheer pink printed blouse isn’t too much of a change.

When Matthew had invited you to take a walk around the park yesterday, just the two of you. You’ve never spent more than a few minutes alone with him, always having Brady or Taryn or Emma to provide distraction and distance. This time you’ll have nothing to focus on but him.

The time comes soon enough, and you gather your things, not wanting to make Matthew wait for you when he arrives. You’d offered to drive yourself and meet him there, but he’d waved off the idea immediately, saying that he’d pick you up.

A knock comes at your door right on time. You take a deep breath before you open it, settling your frenzied heart. Matthew smiles as soon as he sees you.

“Oh wow,” he says, almost absentmindedly, “You look great.” Your blush is immediate, and you hope he can’t see it. It seems that anything that comes out of his mouth makes you blush, sometimes.

The drive to the park isn’t too long. When you arrive, you gather your bag from the floor of the passenger seat, and by time you move to get a hand on the door handle, Matthew is already opening the door from the outside. It’s a sweet surprise, and you thank him as you climb out of the car.

It’s a nice day, not too cold or windy for once. The two of you walk, talking about this and that, moving from topic to topic as they arise. You point out a few birds as you go, and Matthew listens to the little fun facts you give about them. He seems genuinely interested, but even if he’s not, at least he’s polite enough to pretend.

“I guess we should have left a little earlier,” Matthew remarks as the sun goes down, the light fading around you. The sun sets quickly this time of year, so you’re still a few minutes out from the car by time it’s completely dark. The lights along the pathway bathe Matthew in yellow light, casting warm shadows in the dips and hollows of his face.

“At least I have a big, strong man to protect me,” you joke, elbowing him.

“Oh no, if we get jumped I’m running,” he replies, shooting a shit-eating grin down at you. You gasp and press a hand to your heart, as if you’re truly scandalized.

“You would really abandon me like that?” you ask. His smile softens at the edges.

“Never,” he says, looking so genuine that it makes your heart flutter, pausing before he adds, “Unless we’re getting robbed.” Your combined laughter rings out through the trees.

June, 2023

You’ve managed to avoid any questions about your odd behavior, and it’s getting easier to act normal over time. A couple weeks have passed since your first meeting with Tessa, and you still feel like ripping your skin off when you see her touching Matthew, but you’ve gotten better at hiding it. It’s not your place to be upset, anyway.

The diner is bustling at this time of day, the tail end of lunch rush. You had to wait a little bit to get seated, but now you’re sitting at the end of a booth in a chair they’d pulled up to the edge to make up for all five of you not fitting into the booth. It makes you feel a little left out, the only one not paired off, a fifth wheel to the two couples on either side of the table. You block that out, a skill you’ve had for years, but have had to strengthen rapidly over the past few weeks.

Brady has an arm around Emma’s shoulders, and you can tell by the angle of Matthew’s arm that he has a hand on Tessa’s thigh. You remember when that was you, Matthew touching you so casually, so naturally. Sitting across from Matthew as he nudges your foot under the table, sitting next to him with your shoulders pressed together, fingers tangled together on the seat, where no one could see.

Emma is telling a story about a night out with some of her girlfriends, and you’re laughing along at the antics with everyone else. When she asks you about work, you try to clear the perpetual lump in your throat before answering, succeeding in sounding happy, though the tightness remains.

When your food arrives, you spend most of the time pushing it around your plate to make it look like you’re eating. You never have an appetite around Matthew anymore, weirdly embarrassed about being seen eating in a way you haven’t been since you were a teenager. You’ll take it home and eat it later, if you can stop thinking about Matthew for two fucking seconds.

You’re not sure how long that’s going to be impossible, but you hope it’s not much longer.

January, 2020

You’ve been to a few games when the boys have played the Blues, but you’ve never made the trip up to Canada to see them play each other before. Ottawa is nice, Brady and Emma having shown you around a little when you’d arrived. Your nerves had been shot from the anxiety of traveling abroad for the first time, even though it was just to Canada. The couple seemed to understand, only taking you around for a few hours before bringing you home.

Brady’s apartment is nice, really nice. He’s offered you the guest room for a few days, and you appreciate not having to pay for a hotel. He’ll be home for six days before he has to go to St. Louis for the All Star game, so you’d arranged to stay in Ottawa and fly back home with them.

Luckily, the cafe is pretty cool about rearranging your schedule, so you’ll just have to work some extra days when you go back to make up for what you’re missing. You’d asked for the days of the skills competition and game off as well, Brady having managed to get you a ticket. Your manager has always thought it was cool that you were friends with the Tkachuks, so she had agreed to give you the time off if you brought her a souvenir. Matthew and Brady had offered to sign a jersey for her without you even having to ask, and you’ll owe them for a while, though they insist you don’t.

Matthew gets in that first night, the three of you meeting him at his hotel. You’re not sure how he managed it, but he’ll be staying a few days instead of returning to Calgary with the team after the game. Maybe he got a special exception because this game is the last before All Star week, and he has to go to St. Louis anyway. No matter the reason, you’re glad he gets to stay.

The game the next night is exciting, and definitely worth the trip. With the Senators’ performance in recent years, it’s mostly the diehard fans left, so the atmosphere is electric. You get swept up in the passion and joy, especially when the game ends with a 5-2 win for Ottawa.

The boys have to debrief and get changed, which you know will take a while. Emma and you wait with the WAGs, Emma excited to introduce you to them. Some of them think you’re a new WAG at first, which is honestly kind of flattering. All of the ladies are surprisingly kind and welcoming, and you enjoy interacting with them as you all wait.

Matthew emerges first, guided down the hallway by one of the arena staff. His steps pick up pace when he sees you and Emma, and he shoots a quick thanks to the staff member before jogging over to the two of you. He immediately enfolds you in his arms, squeezing tight and holding longer than usual. You know it’s difficult for him to lose at all, let alone to his brother, so you let him hold you as long as he wants.

Once he lets you go, he meets your eyes. His smile is soft, tinged with a slight sadness that you want to wipe away.

“Hey there, sweet girl,” he greets, and your breath catches at the term of endearment. He’d started using it a few months ago, and it still makes your chest tight. You know that it doesn’t mean anything, but you still imagine sometimes that it does.

He turns his attention to Emma, giving her a hug as well, just one quick squeeze before releasing. The three of you start talking, waiting patiently for Brady. It doesn’t shock you that he takes so long to come out, knowing his unofficial position of leadership in the team. The guys come out one by one, hugging and kissing their wives and girlfriends, the number of ladies dwindling as they leave with their men.

When Brady finally emerges, he heads straight over to give Emma a hug and kiss. He hugs you next, before punching Matthew’s shoulder. They have a little back-and-forth as you all exit the arena, taking harmless jabs at each other all the way to the car.

The main issue with the living arrangements for the trip had been that Brady and Emma were going to have two guests and only one spare room. Matthew had offered to sleep on the couch, but he’s too tall for that, and you don’t want him to end up sore or hurting his neck during the season. You’d insisted that you’d sleep on the couch, but both Matthew and Brady had immediately vetoed that idea. Then you’d found out that the guest room has two twin beds instead of one bigger one, and the answer was simple.

Matthew sets his suitcase and backpack next to the door when you get home. You’ve already claimed the bed on the far side, so he gets set up on the one closer to the door. Emma and Brady are in the kitchen, making a post-game snack for everyone, so it’s just you and Matthew.

“You excited to be roomies for a week?” he asks, unzipping his suitcase. Yours is already open under the window, so you grab some pajamas out of it.

“Depends how loud you snore,” you tease. He shoots you a toothy smile.

“Oh, it’s gonna be loud,” he says. You chuckle a bit, knowing he’s joking. Emma calls for you, then, and you leave your clothes on the bed to go to her. The four of you converse as you eat, seated in a row at the kitchen island. You’ve got Matthew to one side and Brady to the other, and they take turns kicking your ankles. You kick back, grinning at Emma when she kicks Brady’s other side.

Brady and Matthew had already showered at the rink, so they sit in the living room while you and Emma get ready for bed. She uses the master suite, and you use the bathroom in the hall. It’s nice, if small, with a simple stall shower instead of a tub. You go through your routine on autopilot, only realizing when you’re done that you’d left your clothes in the bedroom. You wrap yourself in a towel, doing your best to sneak past the door to the living room.

When you look to make sure your stealth is working, you meet Matthew’s eyes. It stops you in your tracks. You can’t discern the look on his face, and you’re not sure that you care to. He shoots you an easy smile, and you wave at him like an idiot, acting on instinct. It only makes him smile wider, and you scurry off to the room.

After you’re dressed, there’s a knock on the door. Brady asks if you’re decent, and you confirm that you are, so he peeks his head in. Once he sees that you truly are dressed, he opens the door the rest of the way. He and Emma bid you good night, telling you to just ask if you need anything. You thank them and say good night in return, Matthew entering the room as soon as the other two retreat to their own room. He’s barely two steps into the room before he’s pulling off his shirt.

“Woah there, cowboy,” you say, holding up a hand in front of you. He just shrugs at you.

“Gotta get ready for bed,” he says, bending over and lifting his foot to remove his socks. You’d figured that he would wear a t-shirt and shorts to bed like you, but you should’ve guessed he’d be the type to sleep shirtless, no matter who’s around. He’s naked in front of thirty people every day, who cares about being shirtless?

You do your best to brush it off, turning down the covers of your bed so that you can crawl in. Normally, you would read for a bit before bed, but you’re tired enough tonight that you don’t think you need to. You pull the blankets up to your chin, turning on your side. Unfortunately, you sleep on your right, so you end up facing Matthew’s bed. Is that weird? Should you try sleeping the opposite direction?

Matthew doesn’t say anything, flicking the lights off and crawling into bed. He sleeps on his left, apparently, so he’s facing you too. That’s a little awkward, right? As your eyes adjust to the dark, you’re able to see the glint of his teeth as he smiles over at you.

“Sleep well, sweet girl,” he says quietly. You return the sentiment, grateful that the darkness means he probably can’t fully see the embarrassment on your face. You’re backlit by the window, so you convince yourself that he can’t.

The next morning, you wake to Matthew already out of bed, stretching. Your eyes roam his back, taking in the dips and ridges of his muscles. Only at the last second do you realize that his head is turned to the side, and he’s staring at you through the corner of his eye. You quickly avert your gaze, turning to sit bolt upright on the other side of the bed, facing the window.

The four of you spend the day exploring the city, Brady and Emma seeming to have planned what they want to show you. It’s nice, peaceful and fun. You make them take pictures with you in front of landmarks or cool art pieces, all of you squished together to fit in the selfie.

It isn’t until the fourth night that anything out of the ordinary happens. You’re lying in bed, having turned on your back to stare at the ceiling, unable to sleep. You probably shouldn’t have had that affogato after dinner, though usually they don’t bother you this much. No matter how long you toss and turn, how many sleeping positions you try, you can’t even make yourself tired, let alone actually fall asleep.

“What are you, a rotisserie chicken?” Matthew asks rhetorically, breaking the silence. His voice is hushed, but it still startles you. You turn your head to stare at him, finding him staring right back.

“I’m sorry,” you apologize, sheepish, “I can’t sleep.” Matthew’s lips quirk up at one end.

“Me either,” he says, sitting up. You mimic his posture, then scoot back to lean against the headboard. He slings his legs over the edge of the bed and stands, and you think for a second that he’s going to turn on the light. Instead, he takes the two steps to your bed, motioning to the mattress. You nod, prompting him to start shoving your shoulder, bullying you into making space for him. You giggle, trying to keep quiet to respect the late hour.

“So,” he leads, taking a long moment to just stare at you before continuing, “Tell me something I don’t know about you.” You’re taken off guard by the request, not sure how to respond.

“I was an Aaron Carter girl growing up,” you pull out of thin air. Matthew’s face breaks into a wide smile, sunshine in the middle of the night.

“Really?” he asks. You nod, mumbling “yeah” in confirmation. That’s all it takes to get you both talking. You trade off back and forth, telling each other small things about yourself that may not come up otherwise, launching into short discussions about some of the statements.

“My favorite color is red,” he says at one point, when you’re starting to think you may fall asleep.

“I thought it was blue?” you reply, remembering Chantal mention that at some point. Matthew starts fiddling with his hands.

“I tell people it’s blue, but it’s really red,” he says. You tilt your head an inch or two, furrowing your brow at him.

“Why?” you ask. He ducks his head.

“Red is an angry color,” he explains, voice quieter than before, “With my reputation, I don’t want people to associate me with an aggressive color. I don’t want to play into the stereotype.” You hum, looking forward. It feels like this isn’t the best time to look at him, like he’ll clam up if you witness his vulnerability.

“It’s also the color of vitality, excitement, love,” you counter, leaving just a breath of a pause, “It’s a good color for you.” The entire room is still for a dragging moment, before Matthew gently knocks your shoulders together.

“What about you?” he asks when you look back to him. There’s a fraction of a change in his face, but you don’t comment on it.

When you wake up in the morning, you’re still sitting up, head resting on Matthew’s shoulder, his head laying on top of yours. You suppress the instinct to startle, not wanting to disrupt him, lest he wake up and move. His skin is warm under your cheek, your arms lined up from shoulder to the knuckles of your fingers. You close your eyes again, trying to keep your breathing steady, as if you’re still sleeping. You’ve been trying so hard to keep distance between Matthew and yourself, but you’ll allow yourself to enjoy this, just for a moment longer.

There’s a shift in Matthew’s breathing, his fingers twitching against yours. It settles after a second, into a different pattern, intentionally deep and even. You’re sure that he’s awake, that he’s doing the same thing that you are. You’re not sure what to do with that information.

The rest of the trip goes by smoothly, Brady and Emma showing you both the touristy things and the better local spots around the city. If the same thing happens the next night, and the night after that, you and Matthew talking in low voices until you fall asleep against each other, neither of you mention it.

April, 2020

While the initial prediction for lockdown was that it would only last a month, it’s clear that it’s going to last much, much longer.

It’s probably lucky that you’d just started a new job, one that can be done remotely, rather than either working at the coffee shop or being laid off. It’s not exactly what you want to do, but it’s at least in the artistic field, so you try to be grateful anyway. It’s difficult being locked away in your apartment, but you’re grateful that you’re luckier than essential workers and people who are losing their jobs altogether.

The thing that keeps you sane in all of this is your phone. More specifically, it’s your friends. You’ve developed almost a schedule with it, calling Terri in the morning for an hour or so before work. At lunch, you facetime Brady and Emma for another hour, not envying them being stuck so far from home. It must be hard to be in an entirely different country than your family.

The highlight of each day is the evening, when you facetime Matthew. Though he spends most of the day sending you videos and memes and updates about whatever little thing he’s doing at the moment, it’s still nice to talk to him out loud. Seeing his face helps your growing loneliness a little bit.

You’re in your living room, your phone propped up against the arm of the couch as you show off the few things you’ve made since picking up crochet a couple weeks ago. Matthew compliments each of them, commending you for your improvement. He’s the only one you’ve shown, too embarrassed to let anyone else see the wonky scarves with uneven stitches.

“You have time to work on any paintings lately?” he asks, once you’re done your little show and tell. The truth is that you’ve got three new canvases drying in the kitchen. The truth is also that the man asking about them is the inspiration for their creation. There’s nothing incriminating about them; it’s not like they’re portraits of him or something. But you’re still hesitant to show him, because even if he doesn’t know, you do.

You show him anyway. The painting of the park is his favorite, and you wonder if he knows that it’s the one you went to for your first time alone together. It’s mostly dark, greens and blues so deep they look black, yellow triangles of light splitting the canvas into section. If you look closely enough, the brush strokes fill in the details of the trees, the grass, the pavement. Your phone camera isn’t good enough for Matthew to see that, but he compliments it anyway.

“You should paint me something for my apartment,” he says after you show him all three. You’re not opposed to the idea, actually enjoy the thought of something you made being showcased in his home.

“What do you want?” you ask, a hundred ideas already flitting through your mind. The only way you’ve seen his apartment is through the background of pictures he sends you sometimes, or little glimpses you catch as he walks around while you facetime. You’re not entirely sure of the vibe, but you’re sure you can figure something out.

“What makes you think of me?” he asks in return. You stop in your tracks in the doorway between the kitchen and living room. The hand holding your phone lowers a couple inches unintentionally, your gaze drifting above the screen, staring into the middle distance. What makes you think of him? Hockey, obviously. Family. Curling up under a blanket on a cold night. Laying on the couch with your feet up on the armrest, your head propped up on a pillow, a sad replacement for his lap. Spruce trees, gold, pitbulls, mushroom pizza, black eyes– both the drink and the wound.

Everything. Everything makes you think of him.

You can’t say that, obviously. You search your brain for something personal but innocuous, something sentimental but still acceptable. You think of all the time that you two have spent together over the past few years, memories springing up, some that you’d even forgotten about. Some that you’ll never be able to forget about.

“Can I surprise you?” you ask. You’re given that familiar smile in response, any iteration of which makes your heart stutter in your chest.

“Yeah,” he says, propping his face up with one hand on his jaw, “I trust you.”

July, 2023

Some people may say that Terri’s apartment is cluttered, but you just find it cozy. She has decorations and knick-knacks on every surface, but the comfiest couch you’ve ever sat on. That’s where you are now, stretched out with your back against the side, Terri mimicking your posture at the other end, your legs tangled together in the middle.

“We should see the Barbie movie when it comes out,” she says, unprompted. You look up from the hook and yarn in your hands, tipping your head to the side for a second and shrugging.

“It looks good,” you say, an indirect agreement. You haven’t been to the movies since before lockdown, so it might be nice to go back.

“D’you think Gabe would want to come?” she asks cautiously, “He could bring the kids.” The mention of your brother still makes ice crawl in your chest, but it’s not as bad as it once was. He’d reached out last year, trying to reconnect with you, and apparently your other brother too. You’ve only seen him a few times since, but it’s more than you’d seen him in the four years prior, combined.

“It’s worth a shot, right?” Terri asks, eyes flicking toward your phone sitting on the coffee table. You look toward it as well, debating for a second. It would be nice to see your nieces and nephews, but it also hurts that they barely know who you are.

“Yeah,” you agree after a second, “Worth a shot.” You grab your phone, feeling as if it’s going to explode in your hands if you move too quickly. There are a few notifications when you wake the screen, which you ignore to unlock it. You open your texts, backing out of your thread with Terri from earlier. You have a picture message from Brady, just a selfie of him and Emma smiling, which you send a heart in response to. Backing out of that thread, you see another new message, underneath the contact name you haven’t had the heart to change. The red and purple hearts next to his name– each of your favorite colors– having been there so long that getting rid of them feels wrong, no matter how it makes your chest hurt to see them.

Can we talk?

You tap the back button as quickly as you can. You can’t respond. You should, to be polite, but you can’t. If you do, you’ll say something you regret. It’ll probably be agreement or the words “eat shit”, and either option will get you into trouble. You can’t respond. You want so badly to talk to him. You want so desperately to go back in time and never meet him.

Your fingers tremble as you draft a text to your brother, typing and deleting and re-typing a few times before you settle on the wording. You have more important things to worry about than Matthew.

August, 2020

The bubble was an interesting idea. It may not be the best idea in the world, despite the safety precautions, but you know Matthew is just happy to be back on the ice. He’s already sent you a dozen pictures of the hotel, of him with his teammates and friends, masked up together in the lobby. You tell him to tell the boys that you say hello, and he texts you each of their responses.

The first round goes well, the Flames only losing one game to the Jets. You know Matthew had been worried about going through all the rules and protocols just to be eliminated immediately, so you’re glad that that isn’t the case.

The series against the Stars starts out with an exciting back-and-forth, the teams trading off wins. Then the Stars win game 5, breaking the pattern. You’re not expecting the last game to actually be the last, convinced that the Flames would at least make it to a game seven. But the Stars pull a decisive 7-3 win, the Flames falling apart in the second period and unable to get themselves back together.

Matthew has called you as soon as he got back to his hotel room after every game, so you’re expecting your phone to ring some time in the next hour or two. You putter around the apartment a little, putting away some dishes and wiping down the kitchen counters. You’d been painting during the game, a commission from a friend of a friend of a friend. You return to that, losing yourself in the meticulous movements of your brush.

It feels like it’s been too long. You try to focus on the canvas in front of you, but there’s a nagging sense in the back of your mind that something is wrong. It sits heavy at the base of your skull as you try to ignore it.

Eventually, it becomes too much. You check your phone to make sure that you haven’t missed his call, but there are no notifications. It’s been a little over two hours. You unlock your phone and pull up his contact in a second, pressing the video icon. Typically, he’ll pick up after one or two rings, but you hear the third ring, the fourth. The call disconnects, shock shooting up your spine. It only lasts a second, your phone ringing with a voice call almost immediately.

“Hey sweet girl,” Matthew greets you in his typical fashion as soon as you accept the call. There’s something off about his voice, and it takes you a second to realize what it is.

“Hey there, darling,” you respond, voice as gentle as you can manage. It’s not the first time you’ve heard Matthew cry, but it breaks your heart every time. As much as he tries to seem tough and aloof, you know how deeply losses like this affect him. Now it makes sense that he didn’t want video involved.

“How are you?” he asks, clearly moving his face away from the receiver as he sniffles, but you can still hear it. You move to the couch, sinking into the cushions, as if you’re as crushed as he is.

“I’m okay,” you reply, “You holding up okay?” You know he’ll say that he’s fine, but you also know that he’s not. He may not be for a while. There’s a pause, a long stretch of silence, only interrupted by his deep, labored breaths.

“I wish you were here,” he says. He sounds absolutely miserable, his voice cracking in the middle of the sentence. The urge to hold him is overwhelming, your arms buzzing with the desire to wrap around him. You want to pull him down into your lap, let him tuck his head into the crook of your neck, let him cry on you as you scratch his scalp and kiss his head. Lockdown isn’t the only reason that can’t happen.

“I’m going to hug you so hard,” you insist, “As soon as I can see you again.”

July, 2023

While you’re still a third wheel with Brady and Emma, it’s better than being a fifth wheel with the entire group. You’d asked Taryn if she wanted to tag along, but she has training to do. Brady had already done his that morning, so he’s free for the rest of the day, and had invited you to spend some time together.

You’re certain that he doesn’t know how you feel about this place, how much it hurts to be here. As far as he’s aware, this is your favorite park, the one you visit with Matthew at least a few times a month every summer. He probably thinks it’s a great choice, something to cheer you up from the slump you know he’s noticed.

Despite the memories tugging at you from every direction, you’re mostly in a good mood. You’d gotten excellent news the day before yesterday, an opportunity you’ve dreamed of for a long time. You wanted to text Brady right after the meeting to tell him, but you’d decided it was better to share it with him and Emma in person. You’re debating something that absolutely doesn’t matter, all of you talking over each other. You’re waiting for the right moment to change the conversation. It doesn’t come until almost an hour into your walk, but you jump on it as soon as it does.

“I have some cool news,” you say, breaking the silent pause that had fallen over the group.

“Well?” Emma replies, “Go on.” The excitement is bubbling up inside of you again at the thought of it, your stomach turning, your chest too full.

“You know that gallery downtown that I love?” you ask, continuing after they agree, “I’m going to do a show there.” They stop in their tracks, Emma immediately enfolding you in her arms. You hug her back, squeezing tight as she bounces on her toes. When she pulls back, she holds your face in her hands, voice high and thrilled as she congratulates you. The smile on your face is unavoidable, happiness from the news mingling with the happiness of your friends being proud of you.

“Cool news, huh?” Brady asks, lightly smacking your shoulder as he says, “What an understatement.” The circle of his arms feels safe, his chest warm against your cheek as he holds you tight. The look on his face when he releases you is the best reaction you’ve gotten so far, his pride meaning more than anyone else’s.

“When is it?” he asks, taking Emma’s hand in his own once again and resuming the walk. You follow along, too excited to be self-conscious of the visible skip in your step.

“August 20th,” you say. There’s an unspoken question there, a silent invitation. You don’t want him to feel pressured to come, knowing that despite how supportive he is of your artistic endeavors, he’s not big on things like art shows. In the end, you don’t have to ask.

“You know we’re coming, right?” he asks, aiming a crooked smile at you, “You can’t stop us.” Though the smile hasn’t left your face since you brought up the topic, it gets brighter in return.

“I’d never dream of trying to,” you reply, and you mean it.

October, 2020

It’s odd to have the boys around at this time of year, the season usually taking them away at the end of August. You’re grateful for it, though. It means that you get to spend time with them, lockdown finally over, freeing you from the confines of your apartment. Your job has stayed remote, so you’re able to be around even more, saving time on what used to be an hour long commute each way.

Right now, it’s you and the boys, Emma, and Terri. You’d introduced her to them less than a month ago, but they already love her, just as you knew they would. She doesn’t always come around with you, considering how you spend nearly every day at the Tkachuks’, but she has some time today.

After twenty minutes of debating what you should watch, you all agree on a true crime documentary. You’ve given up your chair for Terri, squishing yourself onto the couch with Brady and Emma, pressing your cold feet against her leg and laughing when she yelps. She kicks you, only serving to make you laugh harder. Brady playfully threatens to fight you to defend his woman’s honor, and you put your fists up in front of you, jabbing out into the air as if you’re going to take him up on the offer. He chuckles, reaching out to fist bump you instead of punch. You drop your hands, looking past his big ass head.

Matthew is lounging in the second chair, the leg rest of the recliner up despite his legs being crossed under him. It’s the only way the chair will lean back, he’d told you once, and he doesn’t like sitting upright.

The smile on his face isn’t the wide grin you’d expected. It’s small, a gentle turn of the lips. Combined with the look he’s giving you– something unfocused, something unbearably soft– it implies an emotion that you know can’t be the correct interpretation. You swallow hard, turning your eyes back to Brady.

“Press play already, nerd,” you demand, tone playful enough to show that you don’t mean it. He sticks his tongue out at you, but does as he’s told.

Five minutes in, you glance over at Matthew, finding him already looking at you. You look away, slightly embarrassed to be caught. Another five minutes later, you can’t help but peek back at him again, as if your eyes are magnetized to him. It’s almost disappointing that he’s actually looking at the screen. It only takes a second for his eyes to move to the side, peering at you in his peripheral. The corner of his lips quirks up the tiniest bit, almost unnoticeable. But you notice.

You only make it maybe half an hour into the film before Matthew leans forward and snatches the remote from its place next to Brady. The plaintive sound Brady lets out is kind of funny, but you seem to think everything is funny today. Matthew pauses the show, declaring that the group needs snacks.

“Y/N, come give me a hand,” he says, beckoning you to follow him. You grumble a bit, but stand and follow him up the stairs and out of the den. He leads the way through the living room and into the kitchen. They’re fancy, so they have a walk-in pantry, of course. The two of you enter one after another. You start looking at the snack section, deciding what to grab. The good thing about being the one to retrieve the food is that you get to choose whatever you want and there’s nothing the others can say about it.

You’re rifling through the chips and pretzels when you feel a presence close behind you. It’s obviously Matthew, but he’s so close that you can feel the heat of his body radiating into your back. His left hand comes into your field of vision, pressing to the shelves next to your head. You twist your neck to look back at him, confused as to what he’s doing.

You’re not expecting the look he’s giving you. His eyes dark, completely focused in on your face. Your eyes flick from his eyes to his mouth without your permission. He’s not smiling, his lips parted just a fraction of an inch.

He rests his right hand on your shoulder, using it to turn your entire body around to face him. You can feel how dumbfounded your expression is as you stare up at him, your brow furrowed, your mouth slightly agape. He returns the gesture of looking at your mouth, his tongue quickly flicking out to wet his lips. He looks like he’s about to eat you alive. You would let him.

There’s a long, unbearable stretch of silence as the two of you just stare at each other, faces only a scant few inches apart. If this were anyone else, you would know exactly what’s going on, exactly what they want. But this is Matthew, your insanely wonderful, insanely hot, insanely out of your league friend. There’s no chance that he’s about to do what it feels like he is. No matter how many times you steal glances at each other, how closely he holds you, how many times he allows himself to be vulnerable with you, there’s no chance he’d ever want you. And just as you tell yourself that, he speaks.

“Can I kiss you?” he asks, his breath brushing across your lips from the proximity. Your eyes go wide, your mouth falling open wider in shock. You’ve spent the last two years valiantly suppressing any type of attraction you have to him, trying to respect his station as your best friend’s brother. And now, in just four words, he’s let it all loose. It floods you inside, so overwhelming, so much to take all at once that it triggers a full system reset. You swear your heart stops, your mouth opening and closing as you struggle to tear the words from your lagging brain.

The words won’t come. The look on Matthew’s face is changing, something embarrassed, something guilty. He moves back an inch and you reach out, unwilling to let him go. You cup his face in your hands, pulling him in to press your lips together.

It’s lingering, almost chaste, and entirely sensational. Your lips are tingling, sparks shooting down your spine. Your chest feels cracked open, your innards exposed for his inspection, your true self exposed for his judgment.

When you pull back and open your eyes, his are still closed. He looks like he’s in heaven, like he’s trying to imprint this moment in his mind the same way that you are. After a moment, his eyelids slide up and he looks at you again. His eyes are hazy, unfocused, his blown pupils leaving only a thin ring of blue around the edge of his iris.

“Again,” he says, breathless, “Please.”

Who are you to deny him?

The second kiss is as good as the first, your breath abandoning your body to pant out against his lips. You meet again, his tongue flicking out for half a second to touch your top lip. It makes you breath hitch, makes you kiss him again, makes you gently bite his full bottom lip. The sound he lets out is barely audible, but it only feeds the fire inside of you, an inferno that blazes up from your hips to your throat. You cradle his face in your hands, hold just strong enough to move his head how you want, to slot your mouths together perfectly each time.

“Hurry up, asshole!”

Brady’s shout violently snaps you out of your haze. You jerk backward, trying to step away, but already pressed against the shelves. Matthew doesn’t seem as put off as you, smiling as if nothing happened. You relinquish your hold on his face, dropping your hands to your sides. His hands had wandered as you kissed, one on your waist, the other on the back of your neck. He squeezes once at the base of your skull, dipping in to give you one last quick kiss.

After frantically grabbing random snacks, you return to the den. You can feel how hot your face is, and you can only hope that it’s not too obvious how flustered you are. You and Matthew deposit the snacks on the coffee table, everyone immediately selecting one. You curl back up in your chair, legs pulled up to your chest as you lay sideways, head on the armrest.

Every time your eyes drift to Matthew for the rest of the evening, he’s looking back.

January, 2021

Just as the day the boys come home is the best day of the year, the day they leave for the season is the worst. Sometimes you wish you were Emma, that you could follow them back and forth and never be without them. But St. Louis is your home, is where you have a job and friends and more recently, family.

You’d helped both boys pack for the past few days, but you won’t be able to go along to drop them off at the airport. When Matthew had left for the playoffs, Emma had offered you her spot in the car. You’d told her that she didn’t have to, but she’d assured you she wanted it that way. She has to go along this time, so the car is already overpacked. Besides, you have to work that morning anyway.

You still show up at the Tkachuks’ beforehand, so early that the sun hasn’t made an appearance yet. Matthew had forgotten to pack his favorite sweater, of course. You fish it out from where it had fallen under his bed, straightening up to hold it out to him. He thanks you, deciding to wear it for the flight instead of shoving it into one of his bags. It looks good on him. Cozy.

Brady and Emma are double checking their room as well, one door down from you. Keith, Chantal, and Taryn are down in the living room, waiting as patiently as they’re capable of, which isn’t very much.

Being alone with Matthew used to be exciting, used to make your heart change its rhythm, used to start up a buzz under your skin. Now, it’s just… comfortable. Safe. Right.

When Matthew approaches you, crowding up into your space, you know exactly what he wants. The first time you’d kissed should have been the last. You’re too drawn to him, feel too much toward him, more than you should. More than he will ever return. The two of you haven’t discussed exactly what you’re doing here, but it’s clearly meant to be casual. Matthew isn’t typically the kind to shy away from voicing what he wants, and he hasn’t spoken up to define anything.

Is that what you want? You’re not sure. Making out like teenagers for months has been nice, has satisfied a part of you. But only a part.

You’re avoiding thinking about what you want, too afraid of what you’ll find. Some part of you, buried deep inside, hidden behind a recently built wall, already knows. If you allow yourself to acknowledge it, this will end badly. If you allow yourself to want, you’ll destroy yourself in the process.

The kisses he lays on your lips stay sweet, gentle presses, just a tease of tongue here and there. His arms are wrapped around you, resting on your shoulders, while your hands rest on his hips. You haven’t progressed past kissing, and you’re not sure if he wants anything beyond this. You’ll take what you can get.

Keith calls up the stairs for you to hurry up, lest the boys miss their flights. Matthew leaves one last peck on your lips, just as he always does before you part. You glance around his room a final time, making sure everything is packed. You help him bring his bags downstairs, help him and Emma get their things outside and into the car. You’ll have to go home as soon as they depart, and you’re actually a little grateful that you have work to distract you from the first hours of missing them.

As per usual, Emma is the first to hug you. You squeeze tight so that you can lift her off of her feet for a second, just to make her laugh. Brady grabs you next, as if both of them know that Matthew wants to be last. Brady wiggles you side to side, planting a kiss on the top of your head. You headbutt his shoulder, then kiss the same spot you’d hit. He says how much he’ll miss you, something he always reiterates for a few days before he leaves. You return the sentiment honestly, earnestly. When he pulls back, you punch his chest lightly, and he returns the gesture.

Matthew steps up and opens his arms, and you step into them easily. He doesn’t squeeze too hard, just holds you close, hand cupping the back of your neck, calming your anxiety and dulling the sharp edge of your pain.

“Gonna miss you so much, sweet girl,” he whispers into your hair, just loud enough for you to hear. You try to swallow the lump that has suddenly formed in your throat.

“Miss you already,” you reply, a little uneven, a little raw, “Can’t wait to see you again.” He places a kiss on your head as Brady had, but his lips linger, hesitant to let go. But he does let go.

They all wave as they drive off, Brady, Emma, Matthew, and Taryn all crammed into the back seat. You wave back, watching the car go, staring down the street even after the car turns and disappears.

Time to work, you suppose.

July, 2023

Art has never frustrated you so much in your life.

When you were young, the struggle and annoyance came from trying to get things just right, though they were above your skill level. As a teenager, it was due to the struggle of developing your own unique style. In college, it was not having the energy to paint most days, falling asleep at the easel others.

For the past month, the art has been flowing. You’ve been painting most every day, the ideas coming easily, creating almost a compulsion that you can’t resist. It’s only satisfied when the painting is complete. There are a couple dozen or so canvases scattered around your apartment to dry, the most you’ve ever produced in a single month. But the frustration– the frustration comes from the fact that all of your ideas are about him. All of your paintings are moments with him, things he’d said, how you’d felt, how you’d hoped he felt.

There’s a feeling inside of you, as if you’re right on the edge of catharsis, as if you paint just one more thing, you’ll be able to let it all go. That’s your motivation for everything you’ve been making, just desperately searching for the release that will save you from the pain. At this point, you’re not sure it will ever come.

You’re working on a bigger canvas, the biggest you’ve used in years. You’re glad your current job allowed you to move into a bigger apartment, because you surely wouldn’t have been able to fit something like this in your old shoebox, packed so full of your things that you’d barely had space for an 11x14. You have to stand to reach the upper portion, swiping a brighter red over the dark red base. You don’t want it to be about him. It is anyway.

The show at the gallery is rapidly approaching, only a month away. You’ve been working with the curator to decide which pieces to use, filing through years of work. So far, everything that she’s found compelling has been about him. Things you’ve made recently, things you made years ago when things were still good. One day, you’ll get over this. But not today. Today still just hurts.

June, 2021

With neither of the boys making the playoffs, they’d come home earlier than usual this year. Sadly, Brady is pretty used to it by now, usually coming home around this time anyway. You’re used to getting a few weeks with Brady and Emma before Matthew comes home, but you don’t have that this year.

While Brady sulks for about two days when he gets home, Matthew is far more upset. The Flames had made the playoffs for the last couple years, and he was getting used to being a contender. So not even getting a chance at it this year clearly stung. He moped around for a week or two, face tight and arms crossed over his chest most of the time. The only time he let his arms down, let his guard down, is when the two of you were alone.

You’d comforted him through the couple weeks of upset, even staying the night a few times. It wasn’t intentional, you’d just stayed so late that you fell asleep, and Matthew didn’t have the heart to wake you. You have to get up early to get home for work, so you’d snuck your way out of the house before anyone else had woken. You’re not sure how Keith and Chantal would have felt about you staying the night in Matthew’s bed, but you know what they would have thought was going on, and you didn’t want to put yourself or Matthew in that position.

Once he’d relaxed, taken a deep breath and accepted defeat, he went back to being his regular happy, seemingly aloof self. You’re grateful for it, not a fan of seeing him upset and always wanting to help him through and cheer him up.

June had come kindly, bringing along more sun and nicer weather. You and Matthew had resumed your walks in the park, and the whole group of you spend about as much time outside as you do in the den. Things with Matthew had picked up where they left off in January, him pulling you into a secluded area any time he could get you alone, kissing you senseless. You’d missed the feeling of his lips, of his body pressed to yours.

Tonight is one of the more rare nights where Matthew comes to your apartment, instead of you going to his parents’ house. You’ve offered to make dinner and follow it up with movies. You’re already on the couch, your dirty dishes abandoned on the coffee table. You’re laying on your side, Matthew spooned up against your back, your knees hanging off of the couch with the way they’re bent to accommodate Matthew’s too-long legs. You’re warm and comfortable, enjoying the feeling of safety that he brings, something you’ve very rarely felt in your life before.

The movie is good, but you’ve found that being in Matthew’s arms makes you sleepy, so you’re having a hard time focusing. You manage to mostly follow it, letting out a jaw-cracking yawn when the credits start to roll.

You feel Matthew place a kiss on the back of your neck without comment. Then he’s moving you, rearranging your bodies carefully until you’re on your back, Matthew staring down at you from his position straddling your thigh. The way he’s looking at you is intense, somehow simultaneously fond and hungry. It wakes you up almost instantly, and you reach out to rest your hands on his thighs.

“You’re so beautiful,” he says quietly, reverently. It’s not the first time he’s said it, but it feels different now. Maybe it’s the position you’re in, maybe the way he’s looking down at you as if he wants you, as if he–

He takes your hands in his own, bending down as he brings them up to cradle his cheeks. You run your thumbs across his high cheekbones, tilt his head up a little by the jaw as his eyes slide shut. You press your fingers into the soft spot behind his jaw, under his ears, pull him down, down, down.

Kissing him feels as easy as breathing. Guiding his head this way and that to get a better angle, pressing your lips together over and over, longer each time, deeper. Matthew has one hand on the arm of the couch to hold himself up, the other wrapped loosely around your wrist. He’s not trying to move you or take control, just holding on as if he needs something to ground him. You press your thumbs into the hollows of his cheeks, feeling the solid wall of his teeth under the skin. His mouth drops open and he lets out a soft sound. You press your thumbs in harder, between the new gap between his upper and lower teeth, testing how far you can push from the outside.

He squeezes your wrist once and you release the pressure. His mouth stays open, lips wet and shining. He opens his eyes halfway, as if his eyelids are too heavy to get all the way up, eyes hazy and unfocused.

Again, he squeezes your wrist. He’s suddenly standing, using his grip to guide you up as well. He immediately crowds up against you, as if being more than an inch away will kill him. His eyes have managed to refocus, but there’s still a dreamy look in them.

He takes a step backward, using the hand that had instinctively gone to the back of your neck to bring you with him. He kisses you, lingering. He takes another step back, gives you another kiss. He rounds the end of the couch and you realize where he’s leading you, kind of impressed that he can find his way to the bedroom without even looking.

Of course, your heart is a frantic mouse scurrying around your chest, thumping hard like you’re a prey animal facing down a predator. But as much as it freaks out in the cage of your chest, there’s no panic in your head. Being with Matthew calms your mind, keeps your hands from trembling, feels so right that you can’t find a reason for the anxiety that used to plague you around him.

He stops you halfway between the door and the bed, pulling back a couple inches to stare down at you. You’re hesitant to put a name to the look on his face, not sure if reverent is being dramatic.

You flatten your palms against the front of his shoulders, shoving him gently, bullying him toward the bed. He allows it for a moment, but stops after a few steps. He takes your hands in his own, brings them to his mouth to kiss your knuckles. You try to swallow down the desire that grows inside of you, threatening to spill out. He holds your hands close to his face, enough that you can feel his lips move when he speaks.

“You don’t have to be in control, sweet girl,” he says, lays another kiss on the bump of your right middle finger, looks deep into your eyes with such adoration you feel ready to split at the seams.

“Let me take care of you,” he says. The part of you that’s spent your entire life with a fist clenched desperately around any sense of control that it could find, for the first time, relinquishes its hold. And Matthew does, indeed, take care of you.

February, 2022

It’s your first time in Vegas, and the atmosphere is electric. There are hockey fans everywhere, plenty of people wearing jerseys as they explore the strip. Everything is so big, so bright, so fancy. As exciting as it is to be here, it makes you feel a little off, a little like you don’t belong. It reminds you of the first time you’d been to the Tkachuks’ house, amazed at how different everything is from the way you grew up.

Each player was supposed to be allotted two tickets, but they had allowed Brady to take additional tickets for his family, considering Matthew is his brother, in addition to how well-known and beloved Keith is. He’d managed to get Emma included as well, luckily.

You weren’t sure how he did it, but Brady had gotten another player to give one of his tickets so that you could come. Apparently the guy’s family couldn’t make the trip, and he only had one friend that he really wanted to bring. He won’t tell you who it was, but the way that Timo Meier winks at you as he passes the stands gives you an idea. You weren’t aware that the two talked, but there’s always the possibility that he had just gone around and asked everyone. The idea makes something bloom in your chest, as if you could love Brady more than you already do. You’ll have to find a way to thank Timo some time.

The skills competitions are fun, though Brady doesn’t win anything. It’s nice to see the players relaxing and having fun, a well-deserved break from the stress of the season.

You all go out to an early meal before the games the next day. You don’t realize until you arrive that Jack Hughes and his family were joining you, and you trip over your own feet when you see them waiting for you. You’re a huge fan of Jack’s, but more than that, Ellen Weinberg-Hughes is an icon. You stumble with your words when you greet her, shaking her hand and screaming silently in your head. With how the boys are looking at you as you do so, they obviously anticipated your reaction and are incredibly satisfied with themselves.

For the meal, you’re sat between Matthew and Jack. You’re grateful that Matthew is next to you, needing his calming presence as you meet some of your favorite players. The families are friendly with each other, the parents catching up on the news of each others’ lives, the children doing the same in separate conversations.

You spend most of the dinner talking to Jack, Quinn, and Matthew. They tell you all sorts of things, including embarrassing stories about Matthew that you weren’t privy to. You grin at Matthew every time they share one, absolutely intending to tease him about it later. This seems to be what the Hughes boys want, eager to give you more ammunition. Matthew buries his face in his hands at one particularly humiliating story, even as he shakes gently with quiet laughter. When he emerges and sits back up, you take a chance, placing your hand on his thigh. You squeeze once, trying to reassure him. He does his best to not react, but he also rests his hand on top of yours under the table.

“So you’re a painter, right?” Quinn asks at one point, curiosity evident in his perpetually sleepy eyes.

“Yeah,” you confirm, asking “How did you know?” You’d told them about your official job, but you hadn’t mentioned being a traditional artist in addition to a graphic designer. Jack turns a smug smile on you.

“Matthew talks about you a lot,” he says, pleased with himself. You look to Matthew just in time to see his face flush.

“Shut up,” he says to Jack, which only makes him smile wider. Jack’s attitude rubs off on you a little, and you give Matthew a delighted smile.

“How much is a lot?” you ask Jack, feeling Matthew dig his fingertips into your knuckles.

“Like, a lot,” Jack replies, Quinn nodding from his other side. You look back to Matthew, who looks like he wants to crawl under the table and hide.

“I talk about him a lot, too,” you say. That makes Matthew look at you again, bright eyes nearly sparkling in the restaurant’s dim lighting. His expression shifts, a small, grateful smile scrunching his eyes up the slightest bit.

After dinner, you all make your way to the arena. Brady and Jack left a while before the rest of you, needing to arrive in time to get dressed and likely do some more media. Before he’d left, Jack had requested your phone, creating a contact for himself and inputting his number. As he dud, you turned your face away, toward Matthew, opening your mouth wide as if you’re screaming. He looked amused at it, but there’s a sharp edge there. Quinn took the phone next, doing the same thing. You squeezed Matthew’s thigh again, and his expression softened. You’ve been following the Hughes brothers since they were in Juniors, and having them like you enough to want to keep in touch– you can only describe the feeling as elation.

The lines are out the door at the arena, and a few people catch the boys to request photos before you can get to the special entrance for players’ guests. They’re all very kind and courteous about it, taking a few pictures with people, finding a way to move through the crowd even as they do so. You probably should have come a different way, or maybe gotten there earlier, but as long as the boys don’t mind, you don’t either.

The seats are good, the second row of the first balcony. It seems to be the section that they put all of the family and friends, people milling around and chatting with each other. You spot Johnny’s parents a couple rows away, the only people around that you’ve met before. You wave to them and they return the gesture. They make their way down to your seats, greeting each of you in turn. They start chatting with Keith and Chantal, so you continue talking to Taryn and Emma.

The games are great, surprisingly fast. The Atlantic division plays a great game again Central, despite losing by 3. You still can’t help being proud of Brady. You’ve been next to him since his first season, and you’ve loved getting to watch him grow and improve. As long as he’s in the world, you’re going to be proud of him.

The final is awesome too, and you jump up to cheer when Jack scores in the first. When the Metropolitan wins, you high-five Taryn, glad that Jack could win when Brady couldn’t. Not a bad consolation prize.

The group hangs around for a while after, and you get to meet a bunch of new people. Everyone is so nice, making you feel welcome, feel like you belong. When you finally start up the stairs to leave, Johnny’s mom Jane stops you for a second. She pinches your jersey and gives you a sly smile.

“Just a family friend?” she asks, not a question but a suggestion. A few years back, Matthew had given you one of his jerseys to wear to a game, and you’ve worn it tonight, despite him not playing. You realize now how it could be interpreted, ducking your head for a second to smile at the floor, before looking back up to Jane.

“Just a family friend,” you say, firm and definitive. She holds your gaze for a moment, looks behind her at Matthew, who’s waiting patiently a few steps up. He’s looking at you, that soft look he gives you sometimes. After a second, he smiles brightly at Jane. She waves and turns back to you.

“We’ll see,” she says. She pats your shoulder twice before making her own way up the stairs with Guy. Once you process the statement, you shake your head and make your way up to Matthew.

“What was that?” he asks as you enter the corridor. There’s no way you can tell him the truth, and honestly, you’re not sure what the fuck that was either. You just shrug at him, continuing your way out of the arena.

The comment sticks with you, no matter how you try to brush it off. Johnny is Matthew’s best friend, and you’ve met Jane a few times before. If it had been a stranger, you would’ve dismissed it outright. But to hear it from someone who actually knows the two of you? That’s harder to let go.

July, 2023

Laurel, the curator for the gallery hosting your show, is a lovely woman. She’s also very, very good at her job. You’ve been to countless shows at this gallery, and they’re always perfectly compiled, excellently arranged. You’ve brought her your most recent paintings today, which makes you glad that you have a car, because hauling them through the city would be a nightmare.

The only problem you have with Laurel is that she seems to see straight through you. You’re not used to someone looking past the professional figure you present, let alone someone seeing every part of you that you put into your art.

She’s staring at your offerings, examining every last detail. She’s already chosen about half of the pieces that will be displayed, creating a theme with your relatively impressionist style. She moves one canvas to the side, away from the others. She takes an extra few minutes to consider one of them, the largest one. It just finished drying yesterday. Having to see it every day as you passed it in the living room has been torture.

“Everything except that one,” she says, gesturing to the one she’d set aside. If she wants all of these, that’s likely going to be everything for the show. With everything else she’s chosen, this is all they have the wall space for, considering the way that you’ve seen Laurel arrange the art in previous shows you’d attended.

“That one is the centerpiece,” she adds, hand against her cheek as she continues staring at the large canvas. You swallow hard. Of course. Of course every painting she likes is about him. Of course the centerpiece will be him. No matter what you do, you’ll never escape him.

She asks a bit about your inspiration and motivation for the piece, and you give her vague answers that sound more philosophical than the real thing. The two of you discuss some of the minutiae of the show, trying to get everything finalized ahead of time. There’s less than a month left, and your excitement is starting to pair itself with dread.

When you get home, you go straight to your bedroom and throw yourself face first onto your mattress. You bury your face in a pillow, finally letting out the scream that’s been stuck in your throat since you learned of Tessa’s existence. It helps.

You make and have dinner, barely aware of what you’re eating. At least you can eat without getting nauseous now. You don’t feel like watching TV, probably wouldn’t be able to pay attention to a real show right now. Instead, you sit on your bed, leaning back against the headboard. You scroll social media mindlessly for a while, the ghost of Matthew next to you, his invisible arm pressed against yours.

February, 2022

Despite your better judgment, the first time you and Matthew had slept together wasn’t the last, either. It had continued through last summer, then again when he’d come to play the Blues. Now you’re in Calgary, in Matthew’s apartment for the first time, in his bed again.

A lot of people idolize the first time they sleep with someone, comparing every subsequent time to the first and often coming out disappointed. You had no reason to do so, because the sex only got better over time. As you and Matthew learned each other’s bodies, figured out what got the best reactions, the sex kept improving. Even if you wanted to fall back on your morals and resist him out of respect for Brady, you know you couldn’t stay away for long. It’s irresistible.

And it’s not just the sex. It’s the way he holds you after, lays on his back so that you can rest your head on his chest. It’s the way his breath ruffles your hair as you fall asleep together. It’s the things he says to you.

It’s the nights like this.

You’re in Matthew’s bedroom, the dark dead of night offering only the moon to light the room. Your head is on Matthew’s chest, his arm around you to keep you close, as if you would ever willingly leave. Your breathing had returned to normal a while ago, your body cooling off and beginning to recover from the rush of feeling. Matthew kisses the top of your head every so often, and you return the sentiment by tilting your head to lay kisses against his sternum.

“I wish I could keep you here forever,” he says, so hushed that you almost miss it. He’s always so quiet when he talks like this, as if he’s afraid to say it. He says these kinds of things anyway, but never above a whisper, not willing to share the vulnerability with anyone but you. Again, you press your lips into his skin.

“I wish I could stay here forever,” you reply. It would be nice, wouldn’t it? To stay here, with him. No need to be quiet so as not to wake his family, no having to sneak out in the morning, no work to keep you away. Just laying here, together.

“I’ve never wanted anyone the way I want you,” he says. There’s desire in his voice, of course, but also earnesty, like he really means it. Part of you would like to believe that he does, but another part knows how important it is to not get caught up in the fantasy. It’s easier said than done.

“Not any of the other girls you’ve had?” you ask. You’d meant for it to come out teasing, but your honest curiosity wins out. Then there’s a hand on your chin, fingers gently guiding your head up until you’re looking Matthew in the eye. It’s not exactly comfortable to crane your neck like this, so you prop yourself up on one forearm, resting the other hand where your head had been as you stare down at him.

“Never,” he replies, insistent. He looks so serious, sounds so sincere. You don’t say anything, can’t think of anything. There’s something in the wide roundness of his eyes that speaks to you, pulls you in, encourages you to search deeper. It takes a second to figure out what it is that’s hiding in there, but… it’s fear.

“I never want this with anyone else,” he says, tangling his fingers with yours over his racing heart. There’s a question you want to ask, something you’ve been wanting to ask for a while, but the fear in him has mirrored itself within you. You should just shut up, keep it to yourself. The words come out before you can convince yourself to stay quiet.

“What is this?” you ask. You’re not sure what answer you’re expecting, but you know which one you’re hoping for. He takes a deep breath, exhales slowly. His tongue darts out to wet his lips, and for the first time, you don’t divert your gaze to admire the sheen of them, unable to look away from his eyes.

“I don’t know,” he says, pauses, presses your entwined hands harder to his chest, “But I never want to give it up.”

May, 2022

Again, Matthew is the second to come home. Brady returned almost a month before in April, the Senators not in the playoffs, as usual. You feel bad sometimes, because Brady is genuinely a great player, but his team has just struggled to gel together. Even through all of their trials, Brady insists on keeping hope. He loves his teammates, and that’s what really matters to him.

Matthew, on the other hand, isn’t so great at dealing with failure. The Flames make it to the second round, which is an achievement all on its own. But after winning Game 1, they’d lost four in a row and been knocked out. It feels to Matthew almost like they got swept, he explains over the phone after the final loss.

When he gets home, he once again spends a week sulking. You mimic what you’d done last year, though staying the night is intentional this time. So long as you sneak out before anyone wakes up, you’ll be fine.

On the eighth day, you tell Matthew for the hundredth time how proud of him you are. He shoots you a bittersweet smile and says that he’s proud of himself too, and you know he’s bouncing back. It doesn’t help that he’s been debating for months whether to re-sign with the Flames, an agonizing choice for him. He loves his boys, but he’s not sure he belongs there anymore. You’ve assured him that you’ll support him no matter what decision he makes. Johnny hits free agency next month, and if he moves, you’re not sure that Matthew will have the motivation to stay.

The next couple of weeks go by the same way that they always do, with you spending as much time with the Tkachuks as possible. At least, you think you’re doing a good job of acting like everything is the same as years past. No one knows about you and Matthew, and it seems like he wants to keep it that way. You like having this little secret life with him, getting to have him all to yourself. You’re okay with the way it is, you convince yourself.

June came quickly, having begun only four days after he’d returned. The weather improves, you and Matthew once again resume your walks in the park. You play yard games and watch trash TV with Brady and Emma. You help Chantal cook dinners, help Keith clean up afterward. Everything is back to the summer standard.

The day had been nice, sunny and warm. The light had turned the leaves of the trees golden during your walk this afternoon. The sun is long gone now. Nighttime has become your favorite part of the day, the only time you get to indulge in whatever it is that you and Matthew have. The only time you get to touch his skin, to hear the low sounds he can’t help but make, to feel his warmth against you, inside you.

It’s been some time since you’d finished, but you can’t quite fall asleep. Matthew is spooned up against your back, face buried in the nape of your neck. You’re not sure if he’s asleep or not, too distracted to bother trying to figure it out. You’ve been thinking about it since your visit to Calgary. Any time Matthew called, or texted, or even crossed your mind, you thought of it. It made your heart leap into your throat, your breath catching as you choked on it.

He doesn’t know what you’re doing together, what you are. He didn’t give the response you’d been hoping for, but he didn’t outright deny it either. Sometimes you think it would have been better if he had, if he’d said that it was just sex. Then you could start working on moving on. You wouldn’t have to lie awake at night, wondering.

“What’s wrong?” he asks, his groggy voice making you startle and snapping you out of your head. You take a deep breath, debating yourself for a couple seconds before you decide.

“Nothing,” you reply, patting his forearm where it’s snaked around your waist, “Go back to sleep.” He takes a quick, deep breath, the air rushing out over your skin. You’re helpless to resist when he starts moving you. If you did put up a fight, push back against his hands, you know he would stop. But you’re tired.

“What’s wrong?” he asks again once you’re flipped to face him. He looks tired too, the exhaustion of the season still lingering. The moonlight paints his face in silver. It makes his skin shine, almost glowing in the darkness.

“I’m afraid,” you say. You wish he hadn’t turned you around. It would be easier to speak it into the wall than it is to say to his face. You say it anyway, watching his brow furrow, admiring the way the silver light adds contrast to the wrinkles the expression creates.

“Of what?” he asks. You could make something up. Telling him that you’re afraid of monsters under the bed would be less embarrassing. You’ve never been very good at lying to him.

“The day you move on,” you whisper, invisible pressure on your throat making the words come out tight and unsteady. The surprise on his face surprises you in return. He’d refused to put words or labels to whatever this is, of course you would think that he’s going to leave eventually. You’d have to be an idiot to think that he means it when he says forever.

“I won’t,” he says, resolute. You can only manage a half-smile for him.

“You’re not the first man to say that,” you reply. He reaches up and cradles your cheek in his wide palm, warmth seeping into your skin.

“But I’m the first one to mean it,” he says. You close your eyes. They begin to prickle at the corners, but you refuse to cry about any of this. He’s so adamant, so steadfast in his insistence. You try to remind yourself of what this isn’t, what it will never be, but you’ve never trusted someone the way you trust him, and you can’t help believing him anyway.

August, 2023

You hadn’t anticipated this happening, let alone how hard it would be, but finally, finally it’s a little bit easier.

You’re not over Matthew, not by a long shot. It’s going to take months, years. It may never happen, who knows? As long as you can cope with it, can keep your friends around, that’s all that matters.

The first half of the day was spent with both boys and their girls. You didn’t have to curl up so tightly on your chair, didn’t have to force words out so they didn’t think anything was wrong. Conversation was relatively easy, topics changing and flowing naturally. You’d smiled, laughed, and a couple of times you actually meant it.

Matthew had apparently planned a date for Tessa and himself, so they excuse themselves in the late afternoon. Brady, Emma, and you stick around the den for a bit, continuing to talk. Eventually, Emma stands, stretching dramatically.

“Let’s go for a walk,” she suggests. You’ve spent too much time lately sitting at an easel or curled up in bed, and a walk sounds like a great idea.

You expect it this time when Brady takes the three of you to the same park. It’s easier when you’re not blindsided by it, and you have the lovely memory of the last time you were here with the two to focus on, instead of Matthew. You walk for a while, music playing softly from Emma’s phone, tucked in her back pocket. Once you’re deep into the wooded area of the park, she stops dead in her tracks. You follow suit, spinning around to shoot her an inquisitive look. She takes the two steps forward to close the space between you two, grabbing you by the shoulders and walking you backward. You stumble, trying to look behind yourself to keep from falling. She pushes until the backs of your knees hit a bench on the side of the pathway and you fall onto it. You gape up at her, befuddled by the behavior and the way her arms are crossed over her chest.

“What’s going on,” she demands, not a question. You furrow your brow, at a loss for words. You know what she’s talking about, and you know that she knows that you know. But why would she wait until the day that it starts to fade, the day that you can finally think of something else, to ask you about it?

“C’mon, Y/N,” Brady says, plopping down on the bench next to you, “We know something’s wrong.” You had accepted the possibility of this back in June, but you weren’t expecting it to take almost three months for it to happen.

Your first instinct is that you absolutely can’t tell them. You’ve been keeping this secret for years, and if Matthew has his way, you’ll keep it forever. If Matthew gets his way, you repeat in your head. That’s it, isn’t it? All this time, you’ve been so focused on what Matthew wants that you ignored your own wanting. What do you want?

You want to tell someone, to finally have this horrid pain out in the open instead of keeping it caged up around your heart. You want your best friend and his wife to hug you. You want them to understand.

“Matthew,” the name tumbles out, and you don’t want to stop it. Brady and Emma are still looking at you, waiting for anything you want to tell them. God, Brady is your goddamn best friend and you’d convinced yourself that you couldn’t tell him something? That there was anything on this earth that he would shun you for?

It all comes spilling out in a rush. Everything from the first time you’d met him. Hell, some information that isn’t strictly necessary, but they don’t interrupt you or complain, so you venture on. It takes long enough to recount that Emma sits on the metal armrest of the bench. Brady’s holding one of your hands in his lap, Emma taking the other to do the same.

You’d promised yourself more than once that you wouldn’t cry about this, but you don’t really care enough to stop yourself now. The tears come two-thirds of the way through, falling silently as you recount some of the things Matthew had told you, the things he’d promised you. You’re not outright sobbing, so you manage to power through the rest of the story. Your eyes are squeezed tightly shut by the end, like closing them will block out the memories.

It takes a couple of minutes for the tears to stop. The three of you let the silence hang as you wait for it, nothing but the leaves rustling in the trees, something scurrying in the bushes. When you can safely open your eyes to face the world again, you look over to Brady. He looks devastated.

You watch his evolving emotions morph the expression on his face, from heartbreak to anger and back again. The anger makes your heart skip a beat, suddenly afraid that maybe the whole “I slept with your brother” thing will be a problem after all.

“Do you want me to kick his ass?” he asks, startling a laugh out of you. You know he’s dead serious, too. Part of you thinks it might be cathartic to see Matthew get beat up by his little brother, but your soft heart doesn’t want anything bad to happen to him. After everything he’s done to you, you still don’t want him to have to feel even a fraction of the pain you do.

February, 2023

This year, the boys don’t have to bribe anyone else to get you to the All Star Game. Each of them is allotted two tickets as per usual, but Taryn is too busy with school to come. She’d aimed a satisfied smirk at Matthew through the camera of her phone, saying guess you’ll have to take that one along as her eyes darted slightly to the left, clearly looking at where you were on the screen.

Since your work is remote, you’ve brought along your laptop. You spend the morning of the skills competition working, still averse to using your PTO if it’s not completely necessary. The boys have to do media, so there’s no one around to bother or distract you. You kind of wish there were.

The special skills competitions are as fun this year as they were last. You especially love Sidney Crosby in the dunk tank, seemingly having the time of his life. You may not know him personally, only having met him once in passing, but after everything he’s been through, you think he deserves some carefree fun.

The sun has set by time you emerge from the arena after the regular skills competitions. The days are shorter at this time of year, even in Florida. It is warmer than St. Louis, though, which you’re grateful for.

Jack is in the competition again this year, so you meet up with the Weinberg-Hugheses again that night. You’ve gotten much closer with Jack and Quinn over the past year, building relationships on texts and calls and dinners when they play the Blues. Luke has tagged along this time, and you get on with him just as well as his brothers.

Matthew shoots Jack a look when he slings an arm around you on the way back to your hotels after dinner, but Jack just grins at him. You’re still not sure what that’s all about, but you’re just going to stay out of it.

The games the next day are fantastic. You’ve never gotten to watch both of your boys win at once, and you love it. When the Atlantic wins the whole thing, you cheer so loudly your voice cracks. Emma laughs at you, but you just laugh along with her.

You stick around for a bit after the game again, Keith and Chantal mingling while Emma shows you the decorations she’s planning for the wedding on her phone. After a while, someone taps you on the shoulder from behind. You turn your head, immediately recognizing Jane. Johnny had made it again this year with his new team, so it would make sense that she’s here too. You stand, reaching up to hug her in her elevated position.

“Matthew got you a new jersey?” she asks, referencing the All-Star jersey you’ve got on. You wish you could say that you bought it for yourself, but it had indeed been a gift from Matthew. It shouldn’t be embarrassing, so you act like it’s not, even though it is.

“Yeah, he’s a great friend,” you reply, shrugging, “He likes to take care of me.” The thing about Jane is that she’s not really a jerk. Sometimes the you-and-Matthew comments bother you, but she’s generally a very sweet woman.

“It’s good to have someone like that,” she says, smiling gently at you, “Matthew is a good boy.” Jane had been at enough Flames games for you to know her, and definitely enough for Matthew to become a pseudo-son to her. They don’t interact much anymore, save for when she pops up in the back of Johnny’s facetimes, but you know she still has a soft spot for him. You don’t blame her.

“He really is,” you agree, nodding. The two of you make some small talk, and you get some updates on Johnny’s new life on the Blue Jackets. You give her some updates on Matthew in return. After a bit, Guy shuffles up next to Jane, telling her that it’s time to go. She acknowledges him quickly, turning back to take one of your hands in her own.

“I know he takes care of you,” she says, patting the back of your hand with her second, “But you take care of that boy, too. Okay?” You just nod, smiling and bidding her goodbye. Her and Guy retreat up the steps and out of view. You’re not sure why she feels the need to say these things to you, and you’re not sure why you take them to heart.

You meet Matthew and Brady outside the player entrance, the boys immediately scooping up you and Emma, respectively. Matthew sweeps you off of your feet for a moment, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. Once you’re free, you start to dip forward, realizing what you’re doing at the last second and changing track to make sure the kiss lands on his cheek.

He beams at you, and you’re absolutely certain that you’ll spend the rest of your life trying to make him smile.

April, 2023

The day Brady comes home is the best day of the year, you remind yourself for the thousandth time. You’re excited to see him, you are. The way your chest has felt rent open for days isn’t his fault in any way. You’re not going to make him pay for being the messenger.

Once you all get the couple home, you go upstairs with Brady and Emma to help them unpack. They don’t really need help, obviously, but it’s an excuse to spend time together. Brady talks a little about the season, but mostly focuses on his plans for the summer. He talks about wanting to go see G, maybe even take a trip out to visit Tim.

For the most part, you just fold clothes and listen. Eventually, they switch to the topic of the wedding, Emma showing you even more pictures. She’d asked you to be a bridesmaid forever ago, so you’ve already seen most of it, had even helped her pick half of it out, but you’re never going to squash her excitement.

Exhausted from their travel, the two make their way down to the den after everything is put away, collapsing onto the couch. You curl up in your chair, allowing the couple to choose what you watch. They pick something or another, nothing that you can pay attention to right now. Instead, you find yourself examining Brady, picking apart his features, finding all the things he shares with Matthew.

It’s the best day of the year, you remind yourself again. The light of the TV highlights Brady’s jawbone and your skin crawls.

August, 2023

The show is going exceptionally well, exceeding your expectations. The space is filled with strangers, friends, and even your brother and his family. There are critics and collectors, some that you’ve seen at other people’s shows, some that you don’t recognize. Everyone wants to talk to you, and you don’t get a spare moment to breathe for the first few hours.

When you do get a chance to exhale, the rich couple that had been occupying you finally walking away, you catch the color out of the corner of your eye. You’ve been all around the building all night, mingling and networking in equal measure. You hadn’t realized where you ended up until right this second. You turn to the piece, staring as if you’d never seen it before.

You don’t need to look over to see who steps up next to you a minute later.

“You’ve been avoiding me,” Matthew says. It doesn’t feel like an accusation, though it is one. All you can do is sigh.

“What did you expect me to do?” you ask, not expecting an answer. You glance at his hands out of the corner of your eye, noticing the wine glass in one hand, water glass in the other. Without a word, Matthew holds the water out in your direction, still fixated on the painting. You take it, feeling odd that not only does Matthew know that you forget to drink enough water, but also that he’s still trying to take care of you.

“It’s me,” he says after a pause. You’re both facing the largest canvas, the centerpiece. Swirls of bright red spread across a crimson background, highlighted with orange, accented with a royal purple. There, in the center, are two comparatively small, even circles of icy blue.

“They’re all you. Or about you, at least,” you say, seeing no need to deny it any longer, “About us.” It’s obvious that Matthew hadn’t expected you to admit it outright, thrown off for a minute by the admission.

“Can we talk?” he asks as you take a sip of water.

“We’re talking right now,” you reply, feeling petty. It’s his turn to sigh. He sets his wine glass down on the nearest horizontal surface before returning to your side, facing you this time.

“Somewhere private,” he clarifies, pauses, “Please.” You may be mad at him, enraged, incensed, but you’ve never been able to deny him anything, and you still can’t, even now.

You shut the storage room door behind you, flicking on the light to chase away the darkness. Matthew has his hands shoved in his pockets, looking around as if there’s anything interesting in here. You cross your arms over your chest, waiting for him to nut up and look you in the face.

“Listen,” he begins, rubbing the back of his neck but still not looking at you, “I know I should have gone about this better.” You snort. No shit. The sound finally brings Matthew’s gaze to meet your own.

“I’m sorry, okay?” Matthew says, motioning with his raised hand, “I didn’t think you’d care that much.” You can feel how incredulous your expression is, and you don’t even try to hide it.

“In what world would I not be upset?” you respond, “After everything?” You can hear yourself, know you sound like a bitter, jealous old ex, but you can’t bring yourself to care. You see his Adam’s apple bob as he swallows and looks away again. When he looks back, there’s an almost pleading look in his eyes.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you,” he says, more sincerely than the first time, “You shouldn’t have had to find out from Brady.” You avert your gaze, working your jaw for a second before you raise your chin and square your shoulders.

“No,” you agree, “I shouldn’t have.”

“I’m sorry I stopped talking to you,” he says, motioning helplessly with his hands, “You have to know how hard that was.” You shake your head, almost disgusted.

“Imagine how hard it was for me,” you reply. Your fingertips are digging into your own arm, fingernails biting into the skin. The fact that he would stand here and imply that this was a struggle for him– as if he expects you to offer sympathy– makes your stomach churn. The guilt in his expression makes you sickly satisfied.

“Listen,” he leads with that word again, as if he has any right to ask it of you, “I didn’t want to upset her. You know how some girls are.” You do know. And it’s still not an excuse.

“You didn’t tell her about me,” you say, anger and hurt straining your voice, “You said that I was just Brady’s best friend. You didn’t even tell her what we had.” You want to scream it at him, just want to scream in general. Maybe if you did, if you released your tight grip on control in a different way than you had with him, maybe it would make him understand.

“What did we have?” he asks. His voice is quiet, just as yours had been when you’d brought up the topic all those months ago.

“I don’t know,” you say, turning his own words back on him. It’s true, anyway. You’ve never known what any of this was. You’d only known what you wanted it to be, what you stupidly, fruitlessly hoped for.

“We never dated,” he replies, voice still low but seemingly not bothered by the uncertainty, “We never called it a relationship. You were never my girlfriend.” It’s a simple fact. It tears your heart out of your chest.

“Just because we didn’t name it doesn’t mean it was nothing,” you insist, squeezing your eyes shut for a second to push down the urge to cry before admitting, “I stopped dating.” He looks even guiltier at that, but it doesn’t soothe anything in you.

“I didn’t look at another man,” you continue, embarrassed and ashamed but unable to let him continue through life without knowing, “I didn’t even want to look at anyone else.” The shame makes the fiery anger burn brighter.

“I gave you three years of my fucking life,” you say, voice raising just enough to make Matthew flinch. You keep it reigned in enough that no one outside will hear, not interested in sharing this conversation with anyone else, especially not potential business contacts. The flames engulf your chest, lick up at your throat, threaten to consume you.

“I never asked you to do that,” Matthew replies, solemn. Your jaw drops, just half an inch, enough to part your lips as your breath hitches. He never asked. He never fucking–

“You–” you begin, breath catching in your throat as your eyes burn with tears you refuse to let escape, “Everything you said, everything you did, and you expected what? For me to just move on?” Your nails are digging so deeply into your biceps that you’re surprised they haven’t drawn blood. Matthew doesn’t respond right away, and you can’t tamp down the impulse to be petty.

“But I guess that’s what you did, huh?” you jab. Matthew shuts his eyes tightly, fists clenching like he wants to fight. It should be threatening, but you’ve always known that he would never dream of laying a finger on you in violence. But then again, you’d thought you knew a lot of things about him.

“Why do you care?” he asks, shoulders tense as he opens his eyes to stare you down, “You don’t even want me.” That shocks a laugh out of you, so completely ridiculous that you can’t help it.

“That’s the most fucked up part– I do want you,” you respond, simultaneously an answer and an admission. His brow furrows as he continues looking at you, as if he can’t believe what he’s hearing.

“Did you seriously think I didn’t?” you ask, more of a demand, slightly offended because, “Do you think I said all those things for fun? For shits and giggles?” You can’t read his expression, don’t even bother trying. He can feel whatever he wants. That’s not your concern anymore. All you care about is the cold spreading through you, crawling up from the tips of your fingers, freezing your arms, creeping into your chest and beginning to extinguish your rage.

“I loved you, dickhead,” you continue, the words spilling out of you starting to sound pathetic, no matter how hard you’re trying to hold on to the anger, putting the last grasp of it into the words, “Stupid fucking idiot asshole, I loved you.” Matthew gapes at you, hands going lax at his sides. His jaw moves as if to say something, but nothing comes out.

“I loved you and you threw me away like garbage, and didn’t even have the balls to tell me yourself,” you force the sentence out, feeling like you’re choking on every syllable. Matthew’s breathing stutters. You’re expecting annoyance, irritation, maybe even shame or guilt. You’re not expecting his wide eyes, his eyebrows turned up in the middle, his slack jaw.

“You loved me?” he finally asks after a few agonizingly long seconds of silence. There’s something in his voice that you tell yourself you don’t care to analyze.

“Of course I did. How could I not?” you say, huffing as you look upwards, needing a momentary break from this staring contest, “The pathetic part, the part that makes me hate myself, is that I still do.” It’s physically painful to say, no matter that the hurt is psychosomatic. You’ve spent the last few minutes breaking open your ribcage, one bone at a time, revealing to him the space you’d made for him inside of yourself.

“You love me?” he asks, so dumbfounded that he’s repeating himself.

“Yes, Matthew,” you say, facing up to the dread inside of you, the one fact you’ve been struggling with the most since you’d found out the news.

“And I’m terrified. Because I’ve always loved you,” you pour out, barely able to hold yourself together as you meet his eyes, “And I’m afraid that I always will.” There’s not even space for half of a breath before Matthew speaks.

“Please do,” he says. His hands are open, palms facing your direction, as if pleading.

“What?” you ask.

“I didn’t know,” he says, and apparently he’s decided it’s his turn to reveal himself, “I was surprised that you wanted anything to do with me at all. But then you kissed me, and I spent the next three years waiting for you to leave.” The confusion comes over you so quickly that it almost masks the hurt.

“Why would I leave?” you ask. There’s been nothing subtle about your feelings. You’ve told him that he’s the only one you want, that you want to spend the rest of your life by his side, that he’ll always be the only one. How could he hear all of that and think that you would ever leave?

“Because you’re smart and kind and funny and hardworking–” he starts listing off.

“Tessa is all of those things too,” you cut him off. It doesn’t come out as resentful as you would’ve expected a sentence like that to. As you’ve told Terri, you really have nothing against Tessa. Besides, she really is everything he’s saying.

“But she’s not you,” his response comes immediately, emphatically, “I don’t want just anyone like that; I want you, and you happen to be that way.” You’re stunned into silence.

“It’s not the traits, it’s you,” he says, insistent, like he’s trying to convince you of your own worth, “And I kept waiting for you to find someone else, someone who wasn’t hotheaded and self-centered and–” He stops himself, swallowing so hard you can see his throat stutter under the thin skin of his neck.

“Someone better,” he finishes. The thing is that Matthew doesn’t have low self-esteem. He knows he’s a catch, and yet… And yet, he’s standing here, admitting that he’d still thought of you as being so far above him that you could never want him. And it’s not that there isn’t probably someone out there better than him–

“I never wanted someone better,” you tell him, voice almost a whisper. Growing up, you’d created this picture of the perfect man, told yourself that you’d find him one day, would never settle for less. Then you’d met Matthew, and he was nothing like that imaginary ideal. He was flawed; he was real. And you couldn’t help but love him for it.

“And I never wanted anyone else,” he replies, his own voice hushed to match yours, but no less certain, “I still don’t.” Three months ago, you would’ve given anything to hear that. But things are different now.

“I thought that if I went and found someone like you, someone close enough, that I could fall for them too,” he confesses, shame making his face tense, “I thought that if I stopped talking to you, if I kept my distance, that I could get over you.” A fraction of the anger buds in your chest at the idea.

“So you’re using Tessa,” you accuse, instantly offended on her behalf.

“No!” Matthew denies emphatically, pauses, shakes his head, “Yes. Maybe. I don’t know.” If he is using her, at least he seems ashamed about it. Something in his posture makes you think he isn’t, that he really thought he could love her.

“Look, she’s great. She’s amazing. She’s too good for me, too,” his shoulders have been hunched up to his ears, but they fall now, defeated, “She talks about that spark she felt when we met, the way she feels about me now, and I want, I really want to feel that way too. It would be easier if I could.” Believing this entire time that he truly loves her has been hell for you, but it’s still somehow worse to know that he doesn’t. That he did all of this, hurt you so deeply, for someone he doesn’t even love.

“As much as I’ve tried, I don’t. And I can’t,” he says, turning his gaze to the floor, “And if I’d ever thought that I had the slightest chance with you, I never would have dated her to begin with.” All these years, all those words, all the touches you’ve shared, and he’d still never taken you seriously. It’s not your fault, you know. But you realize now that for every time you’d indirectly confessed your feelings to him, he’d said the same things back. He’d returned every sentiment readily, easily. And as much as he’d apparently had the same idea as you, that the other could never love you back, you hadn’t seen it either. You’ve been just as ignorant of his feelings as he was of yours, just as deep in denial. And now there’s this rift between you, a deep chasm that keeps you apart, all for no reason.

“So, what now?” you ask. There’s nothing else to ask.

“What?” he seems genuinely confused.

“What now?” you repeat, too tired to be upset anymore, “You break her heart? Or do you keep pretending? Fake your way into a wife and kids and a house in the suburbs?” His confusion persists, tongue darting out to wet his lip the way it always does when he’s anxious.

“I thought–” he shakes his head the tiniest bit, as if he can’t believe what’s happening, “I mean, I love you. I want to be with you.” There’s a sadness sitting heavy in your chest, only getting deeper at his words.

“I love you too,” you say, tipping your head an inch to the right, perfectly aware of how melancholy your smile must be, “But you hurt me, and now you have to hurt her too. I thought you were better than this.” You’d thought the world of him. You don’t hate him now, could never force yourself to. But you are disappointed in how everything has played out.

“I thought you didn’t want better?” he says, not really a question. Your lips turn up another centimeter at that.

“Listen,” you say, turning the word back on him. You inhale deeply, exhale slowly. He stays quiet.

“The opportunity of a lifetime is on the other side of that door,” you gesture vaguely over your shoulder, then let your arms relax, your hands fall to your sides, “I don’t know what to do with any of–” you give another vague gesture, “--This.” The devastation is writ clear on his face, telegraphed by his posture, bared in the forefront of his miserably beautiful eyes.

“Out there?” you say, smile still in place, “I know exactly what I want. So I’m going to go get it.” you pause, take another deep breath, “And maybe you’ll be there tomorrow, and maybe you won’t.”

“I will,” he jumps in. You huff an almost-laugh.

“We can figure this all out later,” you say, sure a definite, “For now, I have to focus on the things that I’m sure of.” He nods, looks at the floor, raises his head and looks back at you.

“Did you used to be sure of me?” he asks, an uneven, shaky whisper.

“Yeah,” you say, your entire being feeling so heavy that you can barely hold yourself upright, “I used to be.”

September, 2023

While Brady had departed yesterday, Matthew doesn’t leave until tomorrow. It took some internal debate, but you’ve decided not to go along to drop him off at the airport. His family will think it’s weird if he doesn’t hug you, and you’re not sure if you can handle him touching you yet.

You’re curled up on the couch with a book, letting yourself get lost in the story. A knock comes on the door and you startle. You mark your page and stand, rounding the couch to open the door. When you do, Matthew is standing there.

“Hey,” he greets, giving you the same bittersweet smile you’ve become accustomed to over the past few weeks. You’d given him a key to your apartment right after you’d moved, but you appreciate him not using it right now. You welcome him in with a gesture of your hand, turning to lead the way. You get four steps away before he speaks.

“I broke up with Tessa,” he blurts out. He doesn’t seem happy about it, but he doesn’t seem particularly sad either.

“Why?” you ask, crossing your arms over your chest, “You’re that sure that I’ll take you back?” The anger comes and goes as it pleases, and it’s starting to sneak through the space between your ribs.

“No,” Matthew says, looking so unbearably fond of you, “I think you’ll tell me to get fucked.” Some days you want to.

“Then why did you break up with her?” you ask. Part of you has been wondering if, despite everything he’d said, he would stay with her. You’re not sure you would have been able to keep the conversation to yourself if he had, but you would have at least tried.

“Because none of this is fair to her,” he answers, shrugging, “She deserves someone who feels the same way about her that she does them. Someone who’s obsessed with her. She doesn’t deserve to be settled for.” You examine his expression, his stance, and realize that he’s truly being honest. He genuinely wants the best for her.

“How’d she take it?” you can’t help but ask. It makes him grin down at the floor for a moment.

“Honestly?” he asks when he raises his head, “Not great. Could have been worse, though.” As much as you love Matthew, you would have been proud of Tessa if she had slapped him.

“Probably should’ve been worse,” you reply. He grins again, tilting his head as he admires your face.

“Probably,” he agrees. For long moments, you both stand still, eyes locked.

“What now?” you ask, the same question as a couple weeks ago. He shrugs again, but he doesn’t seem as miserable or desperate as he had at the gallery.

“I don’t know,” he replies, that same phrase that you’re still trying to make peace with, “I know what I want. Same thing I’ve wanted this entire time. So I guess it’s up to you.” After three years of him encouraging you to give up control, to let go and follow his lead, he’s handing you the reigns now. However this ends or continues is completely your decision.

“You leave tomorrow,” you say, though you’re both viscerally aware of the fact.

“Yeah,” he gives you the crooked smile that had captured you the first time you’d met, “Don’t suppose you want to come with me? The winter weather’s nicer in Florida.” You let out a breathy chuckle, shaking your head at him.

“If you’d asked me that last summer, I probably would’ve said yes,” you admit. You kind of expect him to react with sadness, but you prefer the hope that blooms on his face.

“Maybe I’ll ask you again next summer?” he suggests, offering you the option. At this point, you have no idea where your relationship will be at this time next year. You don’t know if you’ll even have a relationship, of any kind. But if he’s willing to try, so are you.

“Yeah,” you nod, smiling wider than you have in a long while, “Next summer.”

June, 2024

The Hughes brothers are a funny trio. Seeing Jack’s upbeat, outgoing energy bookended on each side by two reserved, perpetually exhausted brothers is always kind of funny. You’d run down the pavement from the Tkachuk’s door to the driveway when you’d seen Quinn climb out of the car’s driver seat, immediately sweeping him up in a hug. The boys had decided to road trip around this summer, so of course you’d strongly suggested that they visit you.

You help them haul their bags out of the trunk, taking Luke’s backpack in hand and insisting on carrying it in for him. The three of them had started teasing you the instant they saw that Matthew hadn’t come out with you.

“Come on, I heard him at the All Star game,” Jack pesters, voice taking a mocking edge as he croons, “Sweet girl.” You laugh brightly, stopping the careful steps you’re taking backwards up the pathway to the house.

“We weren’t dating, I swear,” you insist. Plenty of people over the years have accused you of dating Matthew, but at least he’s funny about it. He stops in front of you, lifting his chin and giving a shit-eating smile.

“Wait, weren’t?” he asks, “As in, past tense?” You feel heat begin to crawl up your face. You’d intended to tell them, of course, but not the second they got here.

“Yeah,” Matthew calls from behind you, and you twist around to watch him close the space between you, “Past tense.” Jack’s glee is overt, but you can see the little signs of happiness on the other two boys’ faces too. Matthew lines himself up against your back, wrapping his arms around you, the gaudy Cup ring on his finger glinting in the light.

“Hey, sweet girl,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss into your hair. You can’t see him, but Jack’s smug face makes you sure that Matthew is staring straight at him. “My sweet girl,” Matthew says. It might be the best thing you’ve ever heard.

[farfromstrange]

Weed Cookies | Matt Murdock x F!Reader

PART 3 of The Vault

See this post for more information on my Valentine's Day Special & Follower Celebration, but these fics can be read separately!

Pairing: Matt Murdock x F!Reader

Summary: Karen receives a box of cookies from one of their clients. Foggy and Matt take a bite. Even with his heightened senses though, Matt doesn't realize what's wrong with the cookies before he's absolutely wasted, and you have to babysit him. Yes, they were edibles.

Warnings: Fluff, faint hints at S3 depressed!Matt and suicidal ideations, attempt at humor, crack fic, accidental drug use, for the sake of this fic we are going to pretend that the edibles were made well enough for Mister I-Know-Everything to miss it

Word Count: 3.4k

A/n: I wrote this after watching the episode of Grey's Anatomy with the Weed Cookies. I took some behaviorisms from my own experiences and exaggerated them a little to fit the vibe of this fic. I scraped parts of this and once again adjusted them because this was even more poorly written before than it is now, and I added the Nelson, Murdock & Page Season 3 narrative again because that's now the running theme of this event. Anyway, if you choose to consume edibles, stay safe! (Also, I'm just copying and pasting my usual tag lists. if anyone wants to be added for this event, do let me know)

“We just got cookies from Ms. Lebowsky next door,” Karen announces happily when she enters the office, balancing the transparent Tupperware in one hand and her handbag in the other. 

“She told me to thank you for helping her get out of that hellhole,” she says. Her eyes crinkle in the corners as a mischievous grin takes over her face. “There’s plenty for all four of us. Although she did mention Matt a few more times.”

“Ms. Lebowsky?” Foggy asks. He stands in the doorway of his office, holding a freshly brewed coffee. “Isn’t she the elderly lady we helped last week?”

“Yeah, that’s her. I think she has a crush on Matt.” 

He rolls his eyes. “Of course, she does. Who doesn’t? Not that I do, but—well, you get the gist.” The blood rushes to his cheeks, and Karen giggles in response.

From the office on the left, Matt’s voice rings out, “We just did our jobs,” he says. “She made us cookies, dude!” Foggy inspects the box on Karen’s desk. “They’re chocolate chip cookies. Our favorite. See what good looks can buy you?”

Matt chuckles, his fingers tracing the Braille indentations in the documents that are starting to form a mountain before him. “I think we got them because we’re good lawyers, Foggy.”

“Yeah, right. No way! That woman was smitten the second she came in. I really gotta get that blind thing going. I mean, she’s way too old for you, but come on! You’re in a serious committed relationship, and women still come piling at your door. It’s not fair.”

The way he whines like a little kid who has just been denied his favorite candy makes Karen laugh at his antics, and even Matt can’t help but join in. No matter how stressed he is, and how badly he wants to focus, Foggy never fails to lighten the mood.

Ever since moving offices, things have been going well for the trio. 

When Matt met you, he was at his lowest. You helped him climb out of a dark hole that was threatening to swallow him whole after losing Elektra and almost losing everything he worked so hard for to Wilson Fisk. Thanks to you, he found the will to fight again. You brought him back to life.

He wanted to die. He hated himself for the longest time after the building collapsed and forever took the first woman he ever loved down with its ruins, but then you came into his life, and you didn’t care about his baggage. You were far too good for him, but that didn’t matter to you. 

He fell for you hard and fast, and maybe the timing was a little off because what he needed was therapy and not someone new to get attached to. Still, if you hadn’t pulled him back to his feet and encouraged him to fight back against Fisk, saving his friendship with the people he cares most about in the process, he would have never made it far enough to get therapy.

Matt trusts you with his life because he feels like he owes it to you, but he also loves you more than anything. You’re the best thing that has ever happened to him. You’re his soulmate, and he couldn’t be happier.

Nelson & Murdock added Karen to their permanent repertoire. With her, things are flowing much more smoothly, and they’re actually making money now. They’re expensive, as Foggy likes to say it. Matt’s friends are just as happy as he is, giving him hope for the future.

“Hey,” Foggy snaps him out of his trance, “Earth to Murdock.”

Matt blinks behind his glasses, his fingers halting their frantic movements along the paper. “While I don’t disagree with what you’re saying,” he says, “please don’t let my girlfriend hear you say that women are piling at my door.”

Karen snorts. “Trust me, Matt. She knows,” she says.

“Yeah, but you shouldn’t remind her of that.”

“My lips are sealed. Foggy?”

He sighs, once again dramatically. “As long as you don’t sleep with them, you have nothing to fear, my friend.”

“I wasn’t planning on it,” says Matt. “The one I’m sleeping with is incomparable.”

Foggy grimaces. “Oh, dude. Gross! You know, God made conscious thought as a mechanism for humans to know when to shut up.”

“To be fair, ninety percent of the population don’t know how to use that mechanism,” Karen jumps to Matt’s defense.

As he laughs, he takes a whiff of the air surrounding their new baked goods. Matt can smell the sweet chocolate of the cookies, and somewhat of a herbal essence, but he can’t quite pinpoint why the scent seems so familiar. 

Karen walks around her desk to drop her bag and her coat. “So, do guys want a cookie?” she asks, swiftly changing the subject.

“I’ll take one,” Foggy is quick to answer.

Matt nods from his desk. “I’ll try one, too.”

The innocent decision to indulge in a sweet treat soon comes back to bite them in the ass though. Heavily.

When Matt first bit into the cookie, he didn’t think there was anything wrong with it. It tasted like chocolate mixed with basil, sugar, honey, and the kind of flour Ms. Lebowsky used, but he didn’t find much else wrong with it. Perhaps if he hadn’t allowed himself to get distracted by his phone calling out your name and the sweetest text he could have possibly received this early in the morning from the love of his life, he would have noticed that something tasted off about these cookies. And that what he believed to have been basil as a secret ingredient was something else entirely.

When lunchtime finally rolls around, you drop everything you were doing before and make your way to Matt’s office. You always spend lunch together. It’s your favorite time of the day. For an hour, you can forget the stress of your workplace and focus on him. He’s your safe haven. Your home. You crave to memorize his features anew every day so that you will have something to carry around with you when he has to work a bit longer, or when he goes out at night and his Daredevil duties drag on beyond what he planned. 

You need to be with him as much as possible because you’re scared that your happiness will shatter on a white cloth, and you will be forced to move on—you can’t imagine losing him. You dedicated your life to loving him, and the thought of ever losing that privilege kills you. 

On your way out, your phone vibrates in your pocket. You smile, thinking that it’s Matt, but when Karen’s number pops up on your screen, you frown. 

‘We have a problem,’ she texted you. Without context. 

All the alarms in your head start blaring, and you start to walk a little faster. You start imagining all possible scenarios. When you ask Karen what’s going on, she doesn’t even reply. What if someone got hurt? What if something happened to Matt? You almost lost him once; you can’t go through that again. 

You burst into the new office space that your friends share a few minutes later, your chest heaving and sweat dripping down your pulsating temples. You’re ready to fight whoever dared to hurt the man you love, or possibly threaten your friends, or both, but when you look up and see your darling boyfriend with his cheek pressed against one of the leaves on their gigantic office plant as if the overgrown Calathea were the coziest pillow he has ever touched, you understand why Karen texted you that you—both you and her—have a problem. A big one, too, judging by the looks of it.

“What is going on here?” you ask the dreaded question, shutting the door behind you.

Only then do you notice Karen to your right in Foggy’s office, trying to get him off of his office chair. He’s belting the chorus of Defying Gravity at the top of his lungs, and he’s got a broom clutched tightly in his right hand.

Oh boy. Your wide eyes drift to Karen’s desk in the middle of the room. As soon as you see the chocolate cookies inside the Tupperware, it slowly begins to dawn on you.

You’re not sure which is worse: Matt cradling a houseplant with his glasses discarded and the first three buttons of his dress shirt undone as he’s coated in sweat, or Foggy singing one of Broadway’s greatest ballads so off-key that the Calathea is starting to wither.

It takes Matt much longer than usual to sense your presence in the room. He calls your name, and his lips curl into a bright grin. Even completely out of it, he looks like an angel on earth. 

“Matthew,” you say. You approach him like you would approach a little kid. He’s on his knees, so the analogy isn’t far off. 

“Hi, honey. What’s going on?”

“Sweetheart,” he greets you, and you have never heard this man sound so relaxed. His hazel eyes are red-rimmed and glazed over, but the most obvious change lies in his behavior. 

“Feel that.” He reaches for your hand when you’re close enough for him to smell you, but he misses. “Where are you?” Matt pouts. “I can’t see.”

You want to laugh, but this is not the time. “You are blind, baby,” you remind him. 

“Since when?”

“Over twenty years.”

“Oh.” He finally gets a hold of your hand. The conversation seems to go right over his head. “Feel the power of nature,” he tells you. “It’s so soft.”

You want to drag him away from the potentially dangerous plant if he decides to eat it, but the sight of him is one to behold. He looks downright adorable. 

You have to focus though. You gently pat his hand. “Maybe later,” you say, and then you make your way to Karen’s desk to inspect the cookies.

Behind you, she calls your name. You twirl around. From the looks of it, she managed to get Foggy down from his chair, but he remains singing at the top of his lungs. All the signs point to one thing, and one thing only.

“Did you give my boyfriend weed cookies?” you sound a lot more condescending than you planned to. 

Karen shakes her head. Her face is pale, and she looks just as panicked as you do. “Those are not mine,” she says. 

“But you knew they were edibles?!”

“Of course, I didn’t! I started questioning it when Matt started cuddling the plant because his Braille felt like boobs and he didn't want to cheat on you, so he decided that he needed to touch some grass.” She points to him, exasperated. As if on cue, Matt lets out a happy little sigh.

Your brain struggles to process all of the information at once. “I’m sorry, what?”

“He said that his Braille feels like boobs. I don’t know! I thought he was messing with me until Foggy turned into Elphaba, and that’s when I took a bite and realized there was weed in them,” she says.

You groan, your worried eyes momentarily flicking back to your high boyfriend. High. That’s not a word you thought you would ever associate with him. “How did this happen?” you ask.

“Ms. Lebowsky, the lady next door, we helped her out the other day, and this morning, she gave me these cookies. I called her when these two started acting like idiots—more than usual, anyway. Turns out, she confused them with the ones her niece made for her birthday party tomorrow.”

“Her niece made edibles for her birthday party?”

“Please, don’t ask. I don’t have all the details. I just–”

“It’s fine,” you cut her off. “Just tell me that you’ve got Foggy under control.”

Karen peeks in through the window to his office. “More or less, yeah. You’ve got Matt?”

“Yeah, I’ve got him.”

You have to take care of him. He’s your responsibility. But as calm as he is right now, his heightened senses make the situation a lot more complex than the mere accidental consumption of edibles.

Walking over to him, you try to haul him up. He protests, at first, but then he feels the fabric of your shirt, and he slacks.

Matt wraps his arms around you, burying his face in your neck. “You’re so soft,” he coos. “You smell like honey.”

With his entire weight on you, you have to widen your stance so you won’t fall over. His usually quick reflexes are nonexistent right now; he won’t be able to catch you if you trip, and then you’re both going to get hurt.

“You know what’s even softer?” you ask.

“The plant,” he answers confidently. He sounds like a more careless version of himself. You can’t deny that it does something to you.

“No, silly,” you chuckle softly, “I meant your bed.”

“Oh. But I’m not tired.”

“You’re high.”

He pouts. “I didn’t mean to.”

“I know.” You stroke his back. “It’s okay. I’m not mad at you.”

He stiffens and relaxes at the same time. You swear you can feel the electricity in his veins as his nerves respond to the feeling of your skin on his. It’s like he’s on fire. Like your touch feels a million times more intense, and he’s being crushed under the weight of it in a way that makes him crave more. 

He squeezes you tighter, trying to get swallowed by you, consumed to the point that you are the same person. The drugs are doing a number on him, and his already heightened sense of feeling has increased tenfold to the point you’re not sure if it’s pleasurable or painful or both. It must be agonizing, yet at the same time there is a high chance that the weed is calming his nerves and dampening his perception to the point he’s taking everything in without the added weight—he’s enjoying the newfound sensations in limbo, and he’s unaffected by it. You wonder how long that is going to last. 

After bidding farewell to Karen, wishing her good luck with Foggy who has now reached a point of his high where he’s lying on the floor, demanding to listen to Bohemian Rhapsody and cry over Freddie Mercury. She assures you that she has got it under control, apologizes again, and then sends you on your way.

“Bye, Karen,” Matt says. “You have very nice hair.” His hand tangles in yours, and his face lights up like a Christmas Tree. You managed to convince him to put his glasses on, at least, or he might get irritated. “Never mind,” his voice turns into a pur. 

Usually, you would shiver at his fingers in your hair, tracing the strands and sensually massaging your scalp only he knows how to, but today is not one of those days. You’re still concerned about the effects that the weed might have on him, so you want to be careful, although you’re not sure how much longer you can keep yourself from laughing. 

As you maneuver Matt through the streets of Hell’s Kitchen, his cane hovers above the ground and his arm is hooked around yours. Without you, he would have run off into traffic by now. He has absolutely no spatial awareness anymore. 

Every sound, scent, and texture seems to capture his attention, but there's one sensation in particular that he can't seem to shake: thirst. You’re not even home yet, and you had to stop by a convenience store to get him a bottle of water. He shed his coat, which you are now carrying for him while also guiding him while simultaneously trying not to attract any unwanted attention. 

You can’t help but look at him as though he is your whole world. He is. He is everything to you, even high on edibles he never meant to consume, and acting like a feral toddler. If anything, you are even prouder now that he is yours. 

“Hey,” he whispers, leaning close to you, “do you think fire hydrants taste like licorice?”

You shake your head. “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but Matt, don’t lick the fire hydrant.” 

He pouts. For a moment, you think that you have steered off any possible disaster, but that was only wishful thinking.

Matt’s curiosity knows no bounds, and he’s soon reaching out to touch anything that catches his eye. He runs his fingers along the rough brick foundation of a building, marveling at the texture, and he stops to sniff a flower, declaring, “This is the most beautiful flower I have ever smelled.”

You pluck it for him, and he carries it in the pocket of his coat with a happy smile. 

You’re both exhausted when you finally make it to his apartment. Getting his large frame through the door is one thing, stopping him from tearing the tap off the sink as he desperately searches for liquid with the words, “Water!” is another.

“Okay, okay,” you try to calm him. You grab a bottle from the fridge, open it for him, and force him to take it. “Drink.”

One touch is enough for him to drop it. “It’s cold,” he recoils in agony.

You sigh. “Tap water it is, then.”

You have never seen him down so many glasses of water. He is severely dehydrated and sensitive to changes in temperature. It’s either too hot or too cold, and you’re so glad that Karen texted you when she did.

You manage to get him to the couch with some snacks that he devours within seconds. If he moves one more inch today, you may not be able to catch him again.

His lip twitches. “Chickens don’t have any arms.”

You pause in the process of wrapping him in a blanket, staring blankly ahead at him. “Excuse me?” you ask.

“Chickens don’t have any arms,” Matt states. “Every American citizen has the right to bear arms under the second amendment in the constitution. If an egg was fertilized on US soil, and the chicken hatched there as well, technically, that makes them a citizen of the United States of America, therefore allowing tiny creatures without arms the right to bear arms, but who gives the bears their arms?” 

You’re so flabbergasted that the absurdity of the situation eludes you. The words process only slowly in your mind, and when they do, they cause a wave of confusion to wash over you before it turns into genuine amusement, and it takes every ounce of self-control to keep yourself from laughing at him.

You can pinpoint the exact second the thought escapes his mind and something else replaces it. His hand brushes over the leather couch. “Smooth,” he observes. You haven’t even fully processed his very philosophical question about the animal kingdom before he drops his cheek down on the couch.

The man who has been carrying the weight of the world in bricks on his back for years is finally relaxed; it shouldn’t leave such a bitter aftertaste in your mouth.

You kneel in front of him, reaching out to touch his cheek. “Do you need anything?” you ask.

Matt’s gaze is filled with an odd sort of clarity. “Nah. Just you,” he mumbles.

A soft smile tugs at your lips as you brush a sweaty strand of hair away from his forehead. "I'm right here," you reassure him. 

He nods, his eyelids drooping as the effects of the edibles start to take their toll. “Good.” He searches for your hand, and you help him intertwine your fingers. A giddy smile finds its way onto his face. “You’re warm.”

You lean in to press a gentle kiss to his forehead. “And you’re high,” you tease.

Matt huffs out a breathy laugh. “Mmh, yeah,” he says. “But it’s okay. ‘Cause you’re here.”

Despite the chaos and the unexpected turn of events, there’s a sense of contentment settling over you as you watch him drift off into a state of bliss. He deserves it more than anyone. 

You stay by his side, watching over him as he succumbs to the pull of sleep that you’re all too familiar with after a sudden high. 

“Note to self,” you say to yourself, “never eat a stranger’s cookies without drug testing them first.”

And love has funny ways of making even the most absurd moments feel strangely beautiful.

Matt Murdock Tag List: @littlenerdyravenclaw @yarrystyleeza @etanordoesbullsh1t @thychuvaluswife @harleycao @schneeflocky @imjustcal @pipsqueakkitten @merlinbtch @sya-skies @amberritonicole @thatonegamefish @norestfortheshelbywicked @mattkinsella @itwasthereaminuteago @linamarr @gpenguin666 @acharliecoxedfan

[brbsoulnomming]

Tell Me Sweet Little Lies Part 2

Part 1 | Now on AO3

-----

When Eddie's almost fourteen, he gets Of course I can handle it by myself, and he wants desperately to know what his soulmate is lying about being able to handle - wants desperately to tell his soulmate that he doesn't have to do it by himself, that Eddie's right here.

The summer of '80, a few weeks before he's due to start high school, Eddie gets I don't think of you all that often anyway, and his heart jumps. He knows it's not directed at him. It can't be - it's one of the hardfast rules.

Lies of omission don't count, half truths don't count, joking usually doesn't count, and it only counts if you're saying the lie to someone, not just telling yourself. So whoever his soulmate is talking to - they do think about this person often, even if they feel like they have to pretend they don't.

But it gives Eddie an idea.

"I don't think about my soulmate very much," he tells Uncle Wayne the next morning.

Wayne raises one eyebrow at him, and Eddie - realizes he didn't exactly think this through, did he?

"I just-" he starts, then stops, realizing that if he lies, it'll show up on his soulmate's skin, and that kind of ruins the grand statement he was trying to make. "I wanted them to know."

Wayne's expression softens. He doesn't say anything about the fact that Eddie had said them and not her, he just claps him on the shoulder and ruffles his hair.

"You're a good kid," he says gruffly, as Eddie bats him away.

Two days later, Eddie sees, Oh, yeah, same. I don't believe you can miss your soulmate before you've even met them.

He doesn't even try to put a damper on his elation. Instead, he rushes out to where Uncle Wayne is watching TV, some old Western, and says, "I don't miss my soulmate, either."

Uncle Wayne looks startled, but he must guess what's going on when he sees Eddie twisting around to examine his arms and bare torso, because he just gives a grunt in response.

It's stupid to think you understand someone just because you know what lies they tell.

Eddie feels like his heart is beating out of his chest, and he's smiling so wide it almost hurts. "I haven't felt like I understand my soulmate. I don't get some of the things on my skin."

Uncle Wayne is looking at him a little more closely. "You sure this is what you want?"

Eddie waves him off, holding his breath as he waits.

I don't get it, man, don't look at me for answers.

"I don't want to keep talking to my soulmate."

There's a long wait after that, so long that Eddie starts to think that was it. But about a half an hour later, hope to see you soon appears just below his ribcage, and Eddie's blooming all over with happiness.

Sucks for the person that his soulmate was talking to, of course, since they were clearly lying about wanting to see them soon, but he knows that they chose that particular phrasing because they wanted Eddie to see it. His stupid idea worked, and he's not going to stop it now.

His soulmate seems to be of the same opinion, because the pseudo conversation keeps up.

Eddie tells Uncle Wayne that he hates reading, that he never wants to see a guitar again, that his favorite season isn't winter, that he knows how to swim and isn't terrified of learning, that he hates spicy food and white chocolate and floral teas and strong coffee and butterflies, that he loves pop music and pastel colors and silverfish.

It gets him a few new books, a second hand acoustic guitar - and, unfortunately, swimming lessons - but it also gets him a wealth of information about his soulmate. He learns that his soulmate likes autumn best, that he's been swimming since before he could walk, that he plays the piano, that he likes spicy food, too, but he prefers dark chocolate and hot apple cider, that he loves cricket bugs but hates house centipedes, that he's not allowed to read comic books anymore but he misses them.

Eddie wonders who his soulmate talks to, when they do this. Uncle Wayne will at least have enough of a half assed conversation with him to support him gaming the system, but his soulmate's replies are usually stilted enough that he can tell it's not the same. They're suited for a different conversation, only related to what Eddie said if he looks for it.

It makes him imagine his soulmate sitting up at night talking on the phone with a friend, trying to hold two conversations at once, thinking carefully about his phrasing - all for Eddie. He can't help the way it makes him feel so much less alone, makes him feel special.

Eddie's extra cautious about telling lies, now that he and his soulmate are talking, and he likes to think his soulmate is doing the same.

They both slip up sometimes, though, and Eddie gets pretty good at figuring out what was meant for him and what wasn't. He gets things like I don't think you're sending me some very mixed signals, here and right, that makes it very clear and I won't be careful that he never responds to, figuring they're actually meant for whoever he's talking to and not for Eddie.

It makes slogging through his first year of high school much more interesting, at least.

"No ma'am, I'm not bored by the way you teach math," he tells his math teacher with a winning smile.

I find the way you teach history as a list of facts and dates for us to memorize very important.

"I don't wonder how we're supposed to retain all of this and regurgitate it on command."

It's stupid to make little songs out of the things you're supposed to remember, it doesn't help at all.

Really, his soulmate is so cute Eddie can never keep himself from grinning when he gets a response.

He never wants to stop.

Taglist (hopefully this works right!): @vampireinthesun @koibug @estrellami-1 @mentalcyborg @allbimyself26 @questionablequeeries @the-s-is-silent @whimsicalwitchm @a-gae-af-racoon @tinyplanet95 @n0-1-important @velocitytimes2 @swimmingbirdrunningrock @newtstabber @jcmadgirl @tartarusknight @roblingoblin285 @lexyvey

----

Part 3

[magicalrocketships]

☔

☔Is there a fic concept you have that you'd like to just explain and share because you're not sure you'll ever write it? If so, what is it?

Oh, I'm sure I've talked about this before but L U C K I L Y I retain zero information, particularly when I'm tired, so this means I get to explain it again.

SO, the plot which I won't ever write because it gets pretty dark and it also requires me to make up an injury (I got the idea from the first series of Chicago Fire, where the dude whose name I've forgotten (no, really, I retain no information anymore) has a life-changing made-up ?neck? injury where he requires surgery and it will take one year+ to recover from the surgery so he self-medicates and then it's miraculously fixed by a dazzling new surgery in one episode after making it an entire plot for an entire season):

Canon divergence somewhere along the way, maybe the pandemic doesn't happen, maybe he never really got as publicly involved in streaming, whatever, but what's key is that Max doesn't have anything really going on outside of racing and it's this year

So Daniel's left RB/Mcl, and Max is focused focused focused on racing and maybe he gets his first world championship a year earlier but whatever happens, he doesn't build that strong sense of home outside of racing (no cats, no partner, no online streaming, just what's becoming an unhealthy focus on racing and winning at all costs)

Then there's an accident. It happens off-track, so it's not a racing incident, and it's not Max's fault. His car gets hit. And Max is injured. He breaks something in his neck (I am assured this injury does not exist in the manner employed by Chicago Fire. For the purpose of this imaginary not-to-be-written fic, it 100% exists).

Max is told he can't race, maybe forever, but likely for at least a year post surgery

(and at this point I'm just going to c&p from the chat fic doc I saved months and months ago, and it's going under a cut with a content warning here for suicidal thoughts, some mention of disordered eating and childhood abuse, look after yourself, pals)

surviving to drive: the max verstappen recovery story (~3k)

Anyway max realises that he has exactly one (1) thing in his life, racing, and it's just come crashing down and he's v emotionally unhealthy as we know and has nothing else going on so when he loses racing he believes there is literally no other reason to keep going plus he's in hospital

anyway daniel ignores all of max's emotionally unhealthy bans on hospital visitors and sneaks in to see him and he's like... "something is very wrong here"

he leaves and max thinks he's chased him away but then daniel comes back later that day and he's like, "you don't have to have the surgery in this hospital, you can have it done in any of these places *presents a list* so pick a place and we'll go there instead"

so yeah they just go somewhere else and daniel rents them a house and just hangs out with a secretly suicidal max who sees precisely no reason to wake up every morning if he's not racing

and daniel has precisely zero idea that max is still here/alive/whatever just because daniel is there every night and every morning and max doesn't want daniel to have to see him like that

ANYWAY max is very clearly not in a good place and his dad sends him messages telling him how he can improve his recovery and get better faster

it becomes more difficult for max to hide the fact that he's alive mostly by virtue of not being dead right now

and he's had the surgery or whatever and he's looking at a 12 month recovery so he's definitely out for the whole of the next season so daniel's like, "It doesn't matter how long recovery takes, take your time" which of course he has precisely zero idea of how to deal with since he's been racing so long and has nothing else in his life

Something happens idk he breaks a glass and Daniel finds him with cut hands and a piece of glass idk and Daniel's like, "a new crisis! I can help with that! this is clearly not something that max has been dealing with daily for weeks now, it's a new thing!"

so he's like, IT'S THERAPY TIME BABY, no more clutching a handful of broken glass and bleeding everywhere, superdaniel is here to help

yada yada finds max a therapist and max HATES IT, HAAAAATES IT, he's uncomfortable and the therapist makes him feel worse and he still wants to like... not be here if he can't race today, he can't wait a whole year

and daniel asks him how it's going and Max lies because why wouldn't he and he's been doing miserable things his entire life that he didn't want to do so what's another thing on top of everything else

meanwhile Daniel's like... hmmmm this is scary Max looks worse

and he sits in on a therapy session and half way through he's like, "nope, we're ending this, sorry, bye, you can have the money for the whole hour but we're never speaking to you again"

points out to Max that that therapist was awful and why didn't Max just tell him how awful it was and how it made him feel

Max, who's never had a choice over anything in his entire life: "..."

anyway he gets max to try another couple of therapists and in the end there's one who is NOT monstrously awful and does not make Max feel like he wants to scratch his own skin off

so Max gets THERAPY and it becomes clear that max's childhood was weaponised beyond belief and he doesn't even know what foods he likes and doesn't like

because he never got a choice and he was always on some kind of food plan that his dad could withhold or not according to how max was doing in every other area of his life

well of course, he gets a whole year of therapy and it turns out his dad was an abusive asshole and he is BLOCKED from Max's phone

and Max has to do things like "make sure his life has more than just racing in it"

so he reads a book

the first one he's ever read

he tries food and tries to figure out if he likes it or if it's just a source of energy he has to eat anyway

he gets a PLANT

it DIES

anyway whatever he gets therapy and he lives in a house with daniel and is allowed to feel some things because he never really felt anything before

and daniel goes off and does some promo stuff idk and films some shit from the house and max is maybe in the background or something and no one's heard from him in ages and in fandom it's all like MAX IS IN DANIEL'S HOUSE etc

and the drive to survive people get in touch and are like, can we interview you for the series even if you're not on the grid, do some stuff about your recovery etc etc

and max is like... i guess

he's not, like, actively suicidal any more because his life has actual pillars of stuff that isn't just racing

his life isn't just like dependent on one jenga tower of racing with the pieces falling down

like, he can't wait to get back to racing but he's like, six months in to therapy or whatever and he's been living with daniel and it's... nice to just... watch movies with him and eat stuff and play computer games (daniel banned racing games so max has had to... compromise)

and maybe there are some... warm feelings

some best friend shit when he's never had real time for a best friend

some "i could probably spend more time with daniel in a forever kind of a way and not get tired of it" you know

BUT ALSO, daniel blowing up his life for max, he saw max in that hospital room and didn't once question what it would mean to him to step back and just... fuck shit up so that max would be okay

anyway drive to survive team show up and they do a bit of interviewing and it is VERY CLEAR that this isn't a natural fit for an episode because Max has, for once, got some shit to say

so they come back with an idea for a spin off documentary that's just Max and this injury and getting back to driving

because Daniel has kind of been fielding red bull this whole time, saying "he's not racing this year, leave him alone, give him some space", and he's got to go out and talk to them or do some promo stuff with them, whatever, he's going away

Max says the timing is good because he can do the main body of the interviewing about what's come before etc, then Daniel can come back and do his bits

and then the docu team are like, "where do you think you'd be right now if you hadn't crashed" and Max looks at the camera and says, "dead, I think" and the team know they're on to a winner because Max has realised that actually, driving like you don't care if you're alive if you don't win isn't actually okay

anyway Max does the documentary interviews and Daniel comes back and Max tells him he can talk about whatever he wants, it's fine but when the team ask him about helping Max when he realised he wasn't coping, Daniel won't give any details and says it's Max's story to tell and he just wanted to make sure his best friend was okay

not realising that he looks very much in love during this idk

ANYWAY SOME TIME PASSES and they do a bit more documentary stuff and Max is preparing to race again and Daniel is doing some stuff with red bull and he flies out somewhere to do an interview and photoshoot for some magazine or other.

The first clips from the documentary are released and they're on youtube and clipped up for instagram and Max posts them but the first picture is just like, 'this contains discussion of suicidal thoughts' etc

Daniel is preparing for this photoshoot and interview

anyway the first clip is about Max in hospital and they go straight in for the kill, Max saying, "I didn't want to live if I couldn't race.

"I didn't want to see anyone, I didn't want to speak to anyone, I shouted at the nurses, I just wanted to get somewhere so I could figure out how not to wake up again. And then Daniel walked in.

"He didn't know how bad it was, he didn't know anything specific, but he knew something was wrong and he got me out of there and he brought me here and got my surgery moved. And he didn't know he saved my life that day. He won't know until he sees this. But he saved my life that day."

END OF CLIP ONE, start of clip two

"You were suicidal," the interviewer says

"Yes," Max says. "The only thing that stopped me was that I didn't want Daniel to find me. He'd moved me to a different hospital and he'd rented this place for us so it was close to the doctors, and every day I woke up and he never knew that he kept me alive just by being here."

"But he found out in the end."

"Not how bad it was. Just that it was bad. And he got me help. And when that help didn't work, he got me more help. He's the best friend I've ever had, and I still haven't been able to tell him how bad it got."

end of clip two, start of clip three

except this clip is DANIEL

"I snuck in to see him in hospital. he wasn't doing great. He was kind of lost, and I didn't really know what I could do, but, like, I figured he needed some space so I got him some. Different hospital, different views, nothing to remind him about racing."

"But he was struggling?"

"Yeah," Daniel says. "He struggled. It was hard to see him when he couldn't race. He's my best friend. It was hard when he wasn't doing so well. But he's doing great now."

smile smile etc Daniel being happy

then a final max clip i think

"Do I still have that drive to win? God, yes. I'm going to win. That hasn't changed. I just want to live as well. I want to wake up tomorrow, and the next day, and the one after that, and win."

then a final slide with the documentary logo on and some suicide prevention helplines, idk

ANYWAY imagine Daniel, if you will, at a photography studio about to have pictures taken, crying his eyes out in the toilets because he's just found out Max wanted to die

so Daniel, who is always very professional, entirely bails on both the photo shoot and the interview so he can go home because he needs to see max

and Max lent him his plane because that's a normal thing excessively rich world champions have so it's not a fucking nightmare getting back from... wherever the interview is, somewhere not that far away in europe

and Daniel chooses to respond to Max's documentary clips on instagram

[ASIDE, my beloved friend as I was telling her this over Telegram, in response to that above: WHY????

Me: because this is MY 4am hurt comfort fic baby]

so anyway he makes a text post that just says Max is the bravest and best person he knows, he's fought so hard to be here, and that there hasn't been a day in Daniel's whole entire life that would have been better if Max wasn't here on this planet, and he's so glad he stayed

and then another one which is like, if anyone else feels like they don't want to go on, please stay, people love you, here's some helpline numbers etc

and Max just replies to him with a blue heart

important to understand that this is my four am comfort fic so it is ENTIRELY appropriate that Daniel walks through the door and both hugs him and starts to cry

and Max hugs him back but does not cry because Max has broken through a lot of shit in therapy but he is not a crier

but he IS accidentally in love with Daniel

and Max makes some Choices in his life, as Daniel does, but this choice involves touching Daniel's cheek and glancing at his mouth and then up at Daniel and Daniel kind of nodding and then there is a KISS

which is badly timed really considering that today has been very emotional and Daniel is still crying and has been travelling etc and they've never actually addressed any of this

so Daniel needs a moment and he goes into the bathroom to stare manfully into the mirror and wash his hands and face and when he comes out Max doesn't let him say anything, just launches into a multi point in-person powerpoint about how they should be together

[my friend: maxplaining his way into a relationshippp]

which Daniel, it turns out, entirely agrees with, but he's really kind of emotionally burnt out right now and would really just like a hug and a sit down, so he tells Max yes, of course, but could they just talk about it later and hug right now

How good is Max at listening to instuctions to stop talking?

not marvellous it turns out but daniel kind of likes it when max gets enthusiastic about stuff

even if the stuff in this case is a multipoint argument in favour of them being quite gay together

OH OH OH now we skip forward a bit

to when Max is racing again

first or second race out there for red bull

and daniel is kind of tied to red bull again

anyway Max WINS

hurray etc he's a conquering hero with a recovered broken neck

so once he's out of the car idk he's done the bit with the team and he spies daniel and goes over to hug him, which the cameras in general love, and then he goes off to do some kind of next step celebratory thing, cool-down room, whatever

only partway there he's like... um

has a feeling, one or two, you know the kind of thing

max hasn't historically been very good at feelings

or healthy choices

but anyway, he decides to act on this one, which is to go back to where Daniel is, and kiss him

which is as much of a surprise to daniel as it is to the whole of the media who are still around to film him

and then Max just turns back around and heads for the podium, so there's a very nice accidental shot of Daniel, afterwards, just smiling and ducking his head and touching his thumb to his lip

which turns into a very popular gif

for reasons

Anyway!! there is a LOT of discussion about Max losing his edge now his focus is not only racing

the documentary talks a lot about Max's childhood abuse and limited food intake etc etc but doesn't mention his dad by name

Daniel races again somehow but probably not in the fic

daniel ends up losing some bet or other and has to do a computer game live stream from his living room of some cosy game idk and the whole thing is interupted by max just living his life in the background

max getting up and sleepily saying morning, max going for a run and kissing him hello, max going in and out of the sim, idk, the two of them making weird noises at each other because they still do that

OH I forgot they buy a house together like immediately after getting together

somewhere green again and it's in both their names because they've lived together for a year already and whatever

and still don't tell anyone they're together even though red bull has them residing at the same address

and ZERO people realise until after the kiss on screen

and obviously the docu clips suggest they've been staying together

and Max gets to say to Christian that they literally own a house together when he expresses some degree of surprise at kissing in public

not their fault no one noticed

Forgot to say that max and Daniel get filmed driving about and max stalls his car and doesn’t know if he likes olives and maybe they forget they’re being filmed

And also that when the documentary finally airs all its eps Netflix on Twitter are like “lol bet you can’t figure out which bits we filmed after they got together and which were before because we certainly can’t, lol”

And Daniel’s in the comments, like “do I get a prize if I get it right”

He gets 9/10 clips right but no one but max knows

Anyway when they buy their house max has zero shits to give about the decor so daniel just gets a decorator in and the only thing max wants is a fancy catio for when they’re not there and his new cats want to go outside

Daniel arranges this because he’s a sucker for max.

anyway that's general plot of surviving to drive: the max verstappen recovery story, the end.

[snapghoul]

One foot on the pedal but never on the brake

Jake loudly informs his brother about Mav and Ethan being twins. Tyler fears for his hearing.

Notes: another prompt from the lovely @child-of-of-the-sunshine ❤️

Warnings: none

Song: hot - smash mouth

Tyler fumbled with his phone, the slick case slipping from his grip. He lunged to catch it as it vibrated, finally managing to answer just as Jake's voice burst through the speaker.

“Damn, Ty! Four rings? Did I interrupt something? Is Kate there?” Jake’s voice was quick, his twin chiming in at the end.

Heat crept up Tyler’s face, and he quickly cut him off. “No! No! Jesus, Jake, no! I was just working on the rig for next season—my hands are covered in grease!” He wiped his hand on his jeans, residue from fixing his truck smudging the fabric, and walked over to sit on the tailgate.

“Anyway, I’ve got new intel on Pops—Maverick, I mean.” Jake’s tone shifted, and Tyler could almost picture the smirk on his brother's face.

Tyler raised an eyebrow, curiosity piqued. He’d seen Maverick on the Dagger’s Instagram, but Jake rarely mentioned him. “Maverick?”

“Yeah! Turns out he’s a twin! It scared the hell out of me when I went over to the old man’s this morning. I walked right past him—Ethan, I think his name is Ethan—” Jake’s words tumbled out, and Tyler stifled the urge to call him motor mouth.

“I broke a mug because Mav just showed up right next to me after I said hi— well I thought I said hi on the porch. And Bradley— that bastard! He didn’t tell me and had this smug look on his face, and I just wanted to—”

“Jake, breathe, dammit.” Tyler finally interjected. He was intrigued, but if his brother didn’t slow down, he might pass out. “So, Maverick is a twin? Why is this such a big deal?”

There was a loud shout from Jake, Tyler having to pull his phone away with a wince. “Because we’re twins!? What kind of a coincidence is that!”

“Okay.” Tyler sighed, standing in the yard of his little house in Texas, his jeans and shirt soaked in vehicle fluids while his brother took a few more years off his already deteriorating hearing.

“Also, Bradley took me on a date.”

Now that was even more intriguing than Maverick being a twin. “What?!”

Bonus:

“What am I missing?” Ethan asked Pete, they had gone to the boardwalk. It had been far too long since he enjoyed a leisurely ocean walk or a beachside motorcycle ride without feeling like his life was in jeopardy.

“What do you mean?” Pete replied, raising an eyebrow, his jacket draped over one shoulder. Ethan shot his twin a narrowed glance.

“Bradley gave Jake a suspicious look this morning, and Jake swore he didn’t tell him anything. What’s that all about?”

Pete chuckled, shaking his head as he scratched the side of his head—a nervous habit Ethan recognized all too well. He was trained to read those as red flags but he knew his brother was trying to suppress laughter.

Ethan felt a twinge of defensiveness. He knew he had no right to be upset about secrets, but this felt especially childish for their age.

“Pete,” Ethan warned, but his brother just snorted.

“Jake is a twin too, identical. I met his brother once,” Pete replied, a smile tugging at his lips.

Ethan realized he was right—it was childish. He rolled his eyes and waved his hand in mild disappointment.

“Interesting. Twins account for only 3% of pregnancies in the U.S., and identical twins are just 3 out of 1,000 worldwide. The odds of having identical twins is about 1 in 250. It’s rare to bump into another pair,” he said, delivering the information matter-of-factly.

“I didn’t ask for a lecture on twin probabilities,” Pete deadpanned.

“Would you like to know the odds of you losing to me on the way home? They’re very high,” Ethan grinned.

Bonus bonus:

Ethan and Tyler as their brothers blow things out of proportion: 🧍

[hannahssimblr]

Shane arrives in the late afternoon, and suddenly we are five. In the aftermath of the storm, when the tarmac is black and the air is fragrant with petrichor we hike to the touristy side of the beach to have drinks at the Surf Shack. We wipe rain off the picnic benches and sit overlooking the sea. It’s choppy, the sand pockmarked with puddles, but the humid heaviness the last few days spent building has been lifted away, leaving crisp, fresh air in its place. At least for now.

Jen starts demanding everyone’s highlight reel of the past year after only two minutes of small talk, and we talk about how Joe broke his wrist playing frisbee, Jen applied to eleven business schools because she didn’t know what else to put on the forms, and Shane lost his virginity to some girl called Aishling in January, though getting that tidbit is like dragging information from a stone. To distract from our nudges and kissy noises Shane asks me about Michelle, which doesn't help, because then I have to tell them all that we broke up.

It instantly zaps the fun out of things and makes the boys awkward. They grumble vague condolences and start looking around the place like they can pull a less depressing topic of conversation out of the air. I remind myself not to mention her again. 

But they don’t have to sit in this particular discomfort for long, because our drinks arrive, carried by Liam, who invites a brand new one by lingering around the table and trying to make conversation. I grit my teeth and remember to be nice.

“Ah look who’s here!” He beams, “the gang are back together!”

“Hi Liam!” Jen’s tone is straining with enthusiasm, “good to see you again, you done your leaving cert?”

“I am indeed! Finished up there last week, t’was some slog, I’ll tell you that. I was just dying to get back out here to the beach and do a bit of surfing. The first group of kids doing the classes are to be down now on the first week of July, and sure then it’s go go go! But look, sure it’s great craic altogether, can’t complain.”

He’s met with blank stares. 

“Oh yeah! Sounds fun.” Jen says after a beat, “Well, it’s nice to see-”

“Having any parties or anything like that this summer?” he asks. 

“Um, well we’re not sure, but if we do we’ll invite you.” I give her a subtle kick beneath the table, which is a mistake, because she turns her huge, beaming smile on me. Her eyes glint threateningly, “You should ask Jude though, we’re staying at his house, so he gets to decide.”

“Yeah,” I say, “Um, we’ll invite you to whatever we’re doing, we just don’t know yet.” Fine. I want to say to Jen. I’ll invite him, but you can take care of him in the toilet when he’s hammered and sick after one beer. 

“That’d be so cool, thanks!” he says, “and I’ve something you can do too, as it happens. My dad is having the first karaoke night of the year down at the local pub next week, you know, just to kind of usher in the beginning of the busy season. You should definitely come along.”

“Karaoke?” Joe echoes, “you want us to sing songs?”

“Well who doesn’t like a good auld sing-song? It’ll be a bit of fun.”

“Probably not,” Joe then turns to Kasper to try and explain to him what is happening in simple English. “Nah, Karaoke, like, singing, and shit” he mutters, “like,” he holds an invisible microphone to his mouth, “la la la, bla bla bla, like, that, like.”

Look, maybe,” I tell Liam, “I don’t think we’re exactly singers here, but we might come to the pub anyway for a few drinks.”

“You might be compelled to belt out a tune or two while you’re there.”

“Stranger things have happened.”

“Alright!” he starts walking back to the Surf Shack, turning one more time to point into our faces, “Think of ye’re songs between now and then, will ya? Just in case you change your mind at some stage!” 

Jen looks at me expectantly once he’s gone, and I immediately groan, slumping in my seat under the weight of her expectation. “Fine, I’ll invite him to whatever party, Jen, but I’m not fucking doing karaoke.” 

Beginning // Prev // Next

[techwrecker]

Something ANGSTY and FLUFFY with CROSSHAIR (if you’re any good at that, ik some writers struggle in some areas)

For Her

Summary: Crosshair struggles with his PTSD from Tantiss that manifests in his hands.

Genre: angst, hurt comfort, light fluff, SFW

TW: mention of death, mention of character canon death, ptsd symptoms (please let me know if I missed any)

Word Count: 2.6K

Warnings: Minor season 3 spoilers, no plot spoiling

A/N: this is probably more angst than fluff eheh... sorry ^^; I hope you enjoy anyways! If you see any grammatical mistakes, no you do not <3

AO3

Crosshair’s hands didn’t shake when his mind was preoccupied. And right now, he was preoccupied by combat with his brother Echo.

Crosshair sat folded in concentration, elbows resting on his knees, mulling over the next possible Dejarik moves. Echo was sitting across from him, just as engaged as the sniper, though Crosshair couldn’t tell if his yawns were genuine exhaustion or a mediocre attempt to rush his turn. Either way, Crosshair wasn’t going to pass up a chance to win because somebody was trying to end the game quickly.

“C’mon, Cross. If you could manage a move during this rotation, I’d appreciate it.” The former ARC trooper quipped.

“Relax. I’m thinking,” he said in mild annoyance. “Nothing wrong with being careful and taking one’s time.” Crosshair hit a button on the board, causing the holo to shift as his character sauntered over and slayed Echo’s main player, leaving the match at a checkmate. “See? Patience is a virtue.” He said, smug with victory.

“Yeah, one of your only ones, too,” Echo shot back with a smile, pressing the shut-off button on the entertainment table. Crosshair couldn’t help the small smirk that crept onto his face. Echo stood up and extended his good arm out across the dark table for a handshake. “Good game, as usual, Crosshair.”

Crosshair took his brother’s hand, and they shook. As Echo walked away to his bunk, Crosshair sat back down, massaging his hand at the palm. His hands didn’t shake when his mind was thinking about a task at hand, but once it was quiet, it was all he could do to keep them still. He held his hands out in front of him, watching them twitch. He squeezed them into fists in an attempt to calm the shot nerves and shut them out from his mind. Crosshair leaned back into his chair and shoved his still lightly trembling hands deep into his pockets. This was not an attempt to keep them steady but rather if they were out of sight, they were out of mind. And for the most part, it worked.

It was unusual for the ship to be as quiet as it was. Hunter and Wrecker took Omega out to the Pabu market before it shut down for the day so they could grab some dinner for the crew. Since being informally stationed on Pabu for the past month or so, Wrecker had acquired quite an affinity for cooking and Omega was more than eager to help him. Each night, they came home with a new recipe from a local vendor. And before Eriadu, anybody within a 20 foot radius of The Marauder could’ve heard Tech’s tinkering, but ever since…

No. He wouldn’t think about that. He couldn’t. Not without completely breaking down. Crosshair was still a soldier. Whether he was tied to the Republic, the Empire, or to his brothers, he had to be strong. But, ever since Omega saved him from Mount Tantiss, from Hemlock’s unending torture, Crosshair had trouble finding it in himself to return to the steadfast man he once was. Things weren’t as black and white as he had once believed them to be. His brief loyalty to the Empire was misplaced, he knew that now. Maybe had he stayed true to his brothers, Tech would still be alive. He didn’t deserve that fate– nobody did. Not when Crosshair could have prevented it. Had he not chosen to be a “good soldier” for the Empire’s evil. Crosshair couldn’t help but feel like it was all his fault. Omega’s capture. Tech’s death. And the worst part was that they all held him with kiddie gloves, like he was made of glass, destined to shatter at any moment.

Crosshair could feel the headache coming. He stood up and opened the hatch of their home. The wind rushed in, whipping the scent of the salty sea around him. It was humid, but not oppressive. He hoped the fresh air would clear his mind. Making his way down the loading ramp and onto the weathered cobblestone of the island’s square, he could hear the people of Pabu in the lower levels starting to call their children in for dinner. Thankfully, due to pleasant weather, the market was taking place on the beach, far below where the Marauder was parked atop the island. The pinnacle was mostly empty, so Crosshair didn’t have to be greeted by the well-meaning citizens. He kept walking until he reached the lookout point not far from the ship.

The sun had already begun dipping into the vast, dark sea as it painted the sky in all its deserving beauty. Scattered across the strip of beach, Crosshair could see vendors beginning to flip on their candleorbs.

He pulled his rifle from behind his back and placed it into position against his shoulder as he’d done a thousand times before. Making sure the safety was on before pointing it down towards the beach, he peered into the scope, looking for his family. It wasn’t hard to spot the crew, as they were a stark contrast from the linen-clothed locals. That paired with Wrecker’s resonant voice, which could probably carry across the planet, made them easy to find.

Through the viewfinder, he could see Omega reaching into a basket for a fruit he had never seen before, her mouth moving. She turned around to show Hunter the new food and he smiled at her, dropping a few coins of the Pabuian currency into her free hand.

Crosshair didn’t realize he was smiling at the scene. He was glad she was safe now. Maker knows she deserved to be. Especially after everything the child had to endure.

He continued to trail the scope along until he found Wrecker, not far ahead. He was practically towering over all the booths. Crosshair tried to use the scope’s zooming feature to see what he was holding, but at such a distance, it was hard to tell.

The rifle began to tremble slightly in the sniper’s hands. He furrowed his brows in concentration and tried to hold his position as rigid as he could, but it was no use. He ripped his face away from the scope and held the rifle out in front of him in frustration. All he saw in his hands was his mistakes. He unlatched the scope and tore it from the barrel before brashly throwing it off the ledge of the lookout. Crosshair wouldn’t dare to damage his precious weapon, but he couldn’t bear to look at the scope any longer. Once he heard the distant clink of metal against the climbing stairs of Pabu, he laid the weapon on the stone wall, his hand lingering with regret for a second longer.

He turned back toward the Marauder and began to walk away. He didn’t want it in his sight anymore but, as a formally trained sniper, it was hard not to be in his sight. The very thing that he had found security in as a cadet now made him shameful. The very purpose he was created for was stripped from his identity without remorse by the Empire. What’s the use in having a weapon if you can’t protect your family?

Thankfully, as Crosshair approached the loading ramp, he could tell by the light snoring coming from Echo’s bunk, that his brother was napping soundly. He pulled out a toothpick from his chest pocket as he made his way to the cockpit. He didn’t like being alone so much anymore, so he lifted his feet up onto the dash, careful to avoid any switches that might start the engine and tried to follow in Echo’s footsteps for a nap.

He had just about nodded off when Batcher’s quick footsteps disturbed the quiet evening. Crosshair lifted a single lid and squinted out of the viewport and saw Omega riding atop Batcher, the pair headed for The Marauder. Besides clutching Batcher’s fur, she had a cylindrical object in her right hand.

Crosshair took his feet down and sat up to open the loading bay door for Omega.

“Cross!” She called frantically. “Cross where are you?”

“I’m here, Omega.” He said, meeting her at the door. “What’s wrong?”

She wrapped her arms tightly around his waist, burying her face into his torso. He gingerly laid a hand on her shoulder and knelt down to meet her at eye-level as she pulled away. She looked deeply into his eyes, her own filled with concern.

“I thought something had happened to you!” Her eyes had begun to fill with tears and her face started to flush pink.

“No, I’m alright. Why would you think that?” He asked.

Omega swiped at her tears with the back of her hand before offering up the scope he had thrown away. She opened her hand flat. The black metal was scratched and the glass inside had shattered. “I thought maybe somebody had taken you.”

Crosshair placed his hand over hers, wrapping her fingers back around the scope and lowering it in rejection. “No. I don’t want that.”

“What do you mean?” Omega said with a sniff.

“I can’t do that. Not anymore.” He said shortly. He didn’t want to bring up Tech. He didn’t want to explain his feelings of inadequacy to her. Not when she was the one who had saved him in the first place. It should have been him. He should have been the one to save her. He was pathetic and he knew everybody around him thought that, too.

“I understand, Crosshair.” She started. “You feel like you don’t have a purpose anymore. I used to feel that way, back on Kamino.”

She took his hand and they sat, leaning against the navicomp on the floor together. “I always wondered why I was different from the other clones. I wasn’t trained like everybody else, but nobody would explain my purpose to me.”

“Omega, I-“ Crosshair tried to escape the conversation.

“No, let me finish.” She interrupted, and he shut his mouth.

“All of you had a clear purpose. The Kaminoans designed you that way. But me? There was nothing special about me. I’m not a sharpshooter and I don’t have heightened senses. I’m definitely not as big as Wrecker and nobody is as smart as Tech was.’ 

Crosshair winced at the sound of his fallen brother’s name.

“But then I finally met you all, my brothers! And I realized what my purpose was. It may not be what they created me for on Kamino, but I know it to be true in my heart. My purpose is to protect my brothers. To protect you,” she explained.

Crosshair could feel the sting of his tears as they started to fall down his slender face.

“Omega,” he began softly, “I’m so sorry. For everything."

The tears wouldn't stop. She pulled him in for a hug and he let her. The two sat together as Crosshair silently let the emotions wash over him. And Omega let him. She knew Crosshair had not come to terms with everything he went through on Tantiss or with the Empire. But, she was observant and saw how his hands would tremble if he didn’t keep himself busy. She knew he needed this and she also knew he wouldn’t confide in any of their brothers like this. Even Batcher sensed something was wrong and came over to lay her head in Crosshair’s lap.

After a couple of minutes, Crosshair pulled away and straightened against the ship. He cleared his throat and looked down at Omega. She was smiling sweetly at him. Not with pity, but with understanding. With her signature kindness. Batcher hopped up and tried to lick his face, pulling them out of the moment.

“Batcher, that is truly disturbing,” Crosshair said in disgust as he tried to shove her off. 

Omega laughed and Crosshair smiled.

“When did you get so wise?” He asked the young girl.

“Since I became a big sister!” She joked.

Hunter and Wrecker showed up not long after, arms full with their food supplies for the night. Wrecker had also managed grab a bag of Mantell Mix to split with Omega. If they didn’t have anything to munch on while making dinner, there would be no dinner to speak of.

“So, I guess you’re okay, then,” Hunter said, vaguely gesturing to Crosshair with his hand.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Just… having a rough go of it, I suppose.” Crosshair answered. It was slightly more information than he would typically give away about his emotional state. Hunter knew well enough not to push him.

“Well good,” Wrecker chimed in. “‘Cuz I’m starving!”

“I’ll wake up Echo so we can get started!” Omega hopped up from the floor and rushed over to his bunk. The rest of the crew headed outside to start the fire. 

The saturated colors of sunset were still stretched across the sky as the sun continued to pass behind the horizon. That was one of Pabu’s specialties. Due to the atmosphere and the reflections off the ocean, the sunsets lasted much longer than it did on any other planet the Bad Batch had ever been to. 

Crosshair walked back out to the lookout once more to retrieve his rifle. He couldn’t leave it. For as much grief as it was giving him, he would always come back to it. He had no other choice. He slung it back over his shoulder and returned to the group to help prep their dinner.

As dinner waned into the evening, the stars crept upon the little family. They all crowded around the fire and told funny stories to Omega about each other from their time serving the Republic. And Echo had plenty from when he was still with the 501st. The little clone intentionally sat next to Crosshair during dinner to give him a prevailing sense of comfort over his anxieties.

“And so I said to Cross,” Hunter said, finishing his story between chuckles, “Cross, that’s a Tooka!” 

The crew burst into laughter at the story. 

“Did you really think it was a battle droid?” Omega asked her seatmate in disbelief.

“Unfortunately, yes...” He trailed off.

“Alright,” Echo began. “The fire is dying and we should probably head in soon. Hunter and I will clean up since Wrecker, Omega, and Cross made dinner.”

“Thanks, Echo!” She beamed at him.

“Yeah, thanks!” Wrecker said as he slapped Echo’s back in gratitude. 

It was probably a little harder than he meant as Echo stumbled forward. He turned his head to give Wrecker a dirty look. The biggest batcher just shrugged sheepishly.

“Come with me, Crosshair. I want to look at the stars over the lookout.” Omega requested.

Crosshair picked up their dishes and handed them to Hunter, nodding in thanks. The pair made their way to the lookout point. 

The stars were in full view, brilliantly shining in every color imaginable. This was something neither of them would ever get used to.

Crosshair held out his hand to Omega so she could climb onto the wall. She smiled up at him and took it gladly. She swept her legs over the side and tilted her head up to the sky, eyes wide in wonder. She kept her eyes on the sky but Crosshair was watching her. 

He hadn’t ever been one to talk much, even before all the events that transpired, but he didn’t think he would ever find enough of or the right kind of words to tell Omega how thankful he was for her.

He lifted a leg over the wall and sidled up to his sister, wrapping his arm around her protectively.

Omega wouldn’t always be a child, and she certainly wouldn’t need her brothers to protect her forever. But, looking into the galaxy here, together, Crosshair resolved his new purpose. He would make the galaxy a safer place. For her.

[tiffthemarvelnerd]

Fitzsimmons entire relationship recap to showcase just how crazy their storyline was.

Okay so, beginning season one, these two, Leo Fitz and Jemma Simmons, have been friend for forever, both really smart scientists and they join a team of agents, because they work for shield. So they are doing their thing for a while slaying the day with these missions, when suddenly, omg simmons is sick, she touched some guy and if she does not do anything about it she is going to explode and take their entire plane, because their base is a plane, with her. Fitz and her are in the lab trying to find a cure, but it isnt working so she smashes him in the head and locks him in the lab, from the lab he can see the hanger door opening as she stands there and jumps out so the explosion would not take the plane with her. So Fitz is understandably freaking out, he is like omg my best friend and secret crush just jumped out of a plane what the fuck do I do, that is when he notices, the antidote did work, but now Simmons has already jumped. So he grabs a backpack parachute thing and is about to go save her when Ward shows up and saves her instead. 

She lives and they go some more episodes, when oh my god shield has been taken over by hydra and their friend ward is one of them. They go to escape but end up in the containment pod, when Ward opens the hanger doors and chucks them into the ocean. Down there they only have a little bit of oxegyn, so they have a cute convo about what death will be like, because at this point the two of them have accepted, like we are going to die here. That is when they suddenly come up with a plan to break the pod mirror and use the oxegyn mask to get enough air to reach the surface. But here is the twist! They only have one mask! She does not want to go without him but he keeps persisting she should take it, so she says “Why would you do this to me you are my best friend in the world!” and he replies “Yeah and you are more than that Jemma.” Basically confessing his love for her. Now she does not even have time to process this new information as he presses the button opening the door and water is rushes in. She takes the oxegyn mask and drags him up, they get found my a helicopter. Season 1 ends.

Now season 2, Jemma is gone, she is undercover at hydra, but because Fitz was in a coma for 9 days after the incident and he suffered serious brain damage, he keeps seeing a version of her kind of as his concious almost. Anyways, she returns and it is just angst between them. She still thinks of him as a friend, and he blames her for just leaving him when he really needed her. She will be running the lab at their new base, and he says he will go work somewhere else. Then in the next mission it turns out they still are a really good team just like before, angst is gone a bit. Fitz keeps getting better and eventually has to go on a mission with the rest to go fight bad guys, just as he is about to leave, Jemma looks at my other favorite ship from the show, huntingbird, and realises “Wait maybe I do love him”. So she goes to visit him as he is packing up his stuff and she is like “Hey Fitz, we never really spoke about what you sai to me at the bottom of the ocean.” Fitz is all suprised because she never braught this up before and that is also a bit of a bad moment to do this, so he says “You want to do this now?” And follows that up with saying that there is nothing to discuss. He is about to walk out as she grabs his hand and says “Maybe there is.” He is absolutaly stunned, not prepared for this at all as he looks at her, but then immediatly gets called to the plane to leave. Leaving Jemma crying alone in the locker room. He returns, asks her out to dinner as they are standing by this rock that can turn into liquid, he leans on it trying to be cool, she says yes but as he leans he accidentaly opened the door of the liquid rock, so she walks across the room to put some stuff away, and gets gobbled up by the rock, the rock turns solid again and the season 2 credits roll.

Now season 3, it has been six months and we first see Fitz in morocco, he has tracked down every lead there is on what that rock could have possibly done to Simmons, and in the meantime has gotten really cool, quite the transformation. So he is in this bad place and does a carchase and it truely is a 180 of the fitz we saw before. After doing so much to get this scroll that is supposed to tell him what happened to Simmons, the scroll is just one hebrew word, death. So he loses it and busts open where the rock is being held and screams at it to ‘do something’ with truely spinechilling acting from the amazing Iain de Caestecker. He gets pulled away, but as he does he notices, sand. Sand which predates the world by a bilion years. So he is like ‘omg a portal’. So they contact this guy who brings them to this castle, which has a special room to activate the portal. They do one time and shoot a lightflare through. Then the machine breaks, they manage to do it again, this time wanting to send a probe lense through, but Fitz is like ‘nah fuck that’ and jumpes through himself. On the other side he is screaming for Jemma and manages to find her and grab her hand, every tense moment. Then the rock explodes, because it did I guess. And for a moment it look like Fitz came back alone as he lies on the pile of small rocks, but no under there is Simmons too and they are together again. Simmons has to adjust to normal life, he takes her to a restaurant and she cries when she sees wine, but we do not hear what happens to her, we only see that she wants to open up the portal again. Fitz is understandably confused by this, but then she finally tells him what happened.

Jemma was alone on that planet for 4,722 hours, or around 6 months. The first months were hard recording things on her phone for Fitz and constantly talking to ‘him’. Then she falls thorugh a hole and meets another human. His name is Will, he got sacrificed in a ritual to the demonic entity also living on that planet they are both trying to avoid, and now they are the only two stuck there. She does calculations to preedict where the portal is going to open, using the last of her phones battery, they try to send a message in a bottle, but it fails and she loses all hope of ever getting back. That is when she kisses Will and they get together. Now she calculates some things to see the sunrise, because the sun usually does not appear on this planet, so they go sit romantically together, when she sees a lightflare. The one Fitz send. So she goes there with Will, but sees the demonic entity and is like “Will it is one of yours”. Will knows it is the demonic entity and sends her to Fitz to go fight it. He does not come with her through the portal and that is why she wants to open it back up again.

During research they are alone in a lab and arguing. When Fitz just cannot take it anymore, he presses her up against a desk and kisses her, she kisses him back. He says “We are cursed”, as she just before they kissed admitted that she does love Will too, but Fitz literally dove through a hole in the universe for her and so it is all a bit complicated. Now Hydra also wants to open up the portal to free the entity, so they do and whilst she is kept on earth. Fitz goes through to get Will, but it is not actually Will, because Will died saving Jemma. They all make it back, and Jemma is obviously dissapointed and cries in his arms. A couple episodes go by, they hold hands in the ashes because she asked him if they could take things slow. But then when they are researching sitting on the floor leaning against one of their beds, she lays her head on his shoulder and slowly moves so they kiss again. He realises after a bit that she asked to take things slow so pulls away, but she assures him that it is okay, he teases her for a bit and they kiss again. 

Next episode they go be a powercouple trying to find a scientist together, whilst he is nervous about sleeping with her because if things go wrong then he thinks they cannot ever go back to being just friends. But they do sleep together at the end of this episode so all is well and he was nervous but got through it. They remain a very cute couple going into season 4.

Season 4 starts and everything has changed, new director and Jemma is basically running the place now. She has daily lie detector tests and so when he helps a mad scientist build a crazy robot, he cannot tell her at first but finally does. The start of this season also mentiones that they are looking to live somewhere together, which is just the absolute cutest thing. Thir robot he helped created reads the darkhold, and this is where things just get wild. Because when this robot reads the darkhold it makes an evil alternate reality where everybodys biggest regret is erased and it just ends up this absolute hellscape. She (robot) traps everybody in this reality, ereases their memories from what actually reality is, so they just believe this is the truth, and she replaces their real versions of them with decoy robots. Fitzsimmons are the only two left they believe, until they pass a door with a detector of one of these decoys. One of them is a decoy. But they both do not know who it is. 

Simmons believes she is not the decoy and says that.

“It’s not me Jemma”

“Well it’s one of us!”

Heartbreaking moment truely. So she stabs Fitz in the wrist, which would have killed him if he was not the decoy, she gets shocked because there is blood coming out, but then turns out she did kill the decoy Fitz. Now she goes into this world, retaining her memories, but turns out, Fitz his biggest regret was not staying with his father, which has now made him the hydra overlord, dating madame hydra, this realitys version of the robot he created. He does not remember Jemma and as they are trying to get out of this world he shoots her in the kneecap. “And you mean nothing to me.” But they do get back. The thing about the framework is that they retain that alternate version of them, with all the memories, like having lived a completely different life. He has struggled with schizofrenia before and now even more so, hearing he doctor in all he does. He cries, Jemma cries and the entire team goes for pancakes.

That is when everybody but Fitz gets teleported to the future and the season 4 credits roll.

Now Fitz gets arrested, because the team was still fugetives and going out for pancakes was perhaps not the smartest thing they could have done. He spends six months in prison, gets rescued and freezes himself to also end up in the future. Remember this because it will be very important. Now in the future the earth has been split apart and everybody lives in space ruled by aliens. Simmons has now been made a slave by one of these said aliens, and her hearing was turned of when he finally got to her and proposed to her. Fitz asks to buy Jemma, but the master does not agree and at the end of the episode they escape, she can hear again and this time proposes to him, to which he awnsers “absolutaly”. They get married in a beautiful forest surrounded by all their friends and it is truelly magical. They struggle some more after that though, because the powers of one of their friends got turned of, but they need to be turned back on. Now Fitz is still scizofrenic and his alternate universe bad guy self operates on one of their best friend, ending with him in a cell but this time put in there by his friend. It is simulatiously a weird guy they met in space and accidentally came with them confesses to Jemma that he is in fact their grandson, which she combats by, no joke, throwing up. 

Fitz can go on missions again because since Jemma thought since she has not had a daughet yet and the future cannot be changed and their grandson, Deke, exists, she gets him out by playing a trick on their other guard friend, basically acting like she drunk poison, without warning Fitz first. But they got him out so it was all fine. Now there is a hefty season finally fight, were the building where Fitz is in gets crushed, he gets impaled by a plate. He thinks just his legs are broken but then he goes ahead and dies. Season 5 ends.

Season 6, Jemma is certain of the fact that Fitz is still out there, because he froze himself the frozen version of him must still be out there. Sis cut herself some depression bangs and end up accidentally high in a club where he is too, because his freezing thingie broke and is looking for money to replace it, together with his not quite android friend, a chronicom called Enoch. So they are both in that club, but just as they see oneanother and reunite, they get stolen by evil chronicoms and put in another mind place room. The room is basically controlled by there minds and it is here they have their reuinion. They manage to get out by imagening their friends to come help them and powercouple their way to the finally, in which they invent timetravel to sace all their friends. Season 6 is half the episodes of previous seasons, so this is the end of that. 

Season 7, they are timetravelling non stop, exept Fitz is away somewhere, Jemma does not even know where because she has something in her brain prohibiting her from accessing the memories. They timetravel a lot and when her memory inhibitor thing gets removed, she does not remember anything. Fitz? Who is Fitz? But then suddenly, she remembers everything, even them taking five years away before they actually timetravelled back. And it turns out they had a kid! They names her Alya and moved away for a bit before going back in. Fitz takes everybody back to the original timeline, and th next time we see them it has been a year. A year of living in the cottage she deemed ‘so lovely’ when she was a little girl and just caring for Alya with Fitz. He really thrives in being a dad and we see them having a picknick in the garden whilst Fitz is playing with Alya. The two of them finally got their happily ever after. It makes me cry everytime.

[teenagemutantninjatrauma]

So recently I was rewatching a few random Fast Forward episodes again (as one does when one is writing a massive AU about something) and BOY DO I NEED TO SHARE A THEORY

So like... Torbin Zixx, right.

This guy:

He gets introduced to us in the FF Bishop episode, of all times, as a mysterious vigilante who has avoided not only being captured but also getting caught clearly on any security footage anywhere! How strange! Anyways, Bishop introduces themselves to the turtles, Raph tries to attack his hologram, and the gang agrees to help Bishop catch this guy. Banger!

And then! We get to this shot.

Now, I don't know if this is a noticeable detail to anybody who like, has a life and isn't obsessed with this cartoon, BUT - boy does this face look familiar. The nose specifically is preeetty prominent.

YEAH I bet none of you were thinking THIS when watching that season (probably a good sign that you have better things to do), BUT I THINK.

ZIXX IS A BISHOP CLONE.

Consider the evidence - because there IS evidence, actually!

First of all, they get to stand back to back in the opening even though they both show up like twice? Three times? For mostly unrelated adventures? Why do they get to stand back to back instead of like, Zyxx getting a spot in the villain lineup that is also in the opening? He is ostensibly occasionally doing good but he’s mostly a trickster able to outsmart the turtles and get away - a trait Bishop has exhibited even when he almost fuckin died in Bishop's Gambit, by the way - so it feels meaningful to set him up here, back to back with Bishop of all people.

Second, they get introduced in the same episode, Bishop to Knight. I know we all rag on this season and the following season for not reaching the previous five seasons' standard, but I believe while Back To The Sewer was genuinely badly written, Fast Forward's issue was only that it wasn't given enough time to elaborate on all the things it set up - it is still written well. Things happen with intentions behind them, we are given as much closure as the show could manage, and so it feels like introducing two characters in the same episode has meaning. Combined with the shot from the opening, it really does feel to me like a point is being made here to compare the two.

Third, there is the parallel of both of them tricking Raph with their holograms - unintentionally and intentionally. It makes sense for Bishop, or someone made to think just like Bishop, to use new modern technology like this, because he's a resourceful bastard!

Look at him flinging himself at people he doesn't like. Me too, man.

"He and Bishop don't look alike!" - Well, not anymore they don't. But look at how Bishop used to look during the first five seasons, during his EPF era, and compare that to Zixx, and then compare Zixx to PGA era Bishop:

The nose, the face shape, the dual communicators? PGA era Bishop does look different and this could be attributed to either change of artstyle or the implication that his clone bodies have evolved and changed over the last century, but Zixx is a piece of who he used to be and has had to evolve differently, and thus looks the part.

(Additionally, we have already seen Bishop make clones of himself that didn't look exactly like his then-current body, when he made the Slayer army in Bishop's Gambit.)

This, by the way, would explain why there is no digital track of Zixx's face anywhere. Because hey, let's be real here - the opening of the episode is dedicated to how much information Bishop personally looks through.

If Zixx was indeed running around wearing Bishop's face, he'd want him gone, but Zixx, being a Bishop clone, would be smart enough not to get caught! Thus, the next best thing would be to get rid of any proof of similarity between them, hence these being the only picture Donnie, a de facto civillian, could find.

(Ironically, this could very well have lead to Zixx becoming the infamous enigma he is said to be in this world.)

They also fight alike, relying on acrobatics and on being able to push and pull their opponents around as needed. I am unfortunately too tired to get good screenshots/clips of this.

"But Zixx doesn't look human!"/"But Zixx has a different voice than Bishop!"/"But Zixx has green eyes!" - He's a vigilante in a scifi space show and has the face and voice of the most well known guy in all of space, is it truly a stretch to assume he might've gotten body modifications? We've already got one guy grafting alien DNA onto himself to survive and it's none other than Dr Baxter Stockman, notably another piece of Bishop's past that's come back to haunt him. Why not two?

You know this would also be in line with what I am now calling the Seeing Double Theme - Dark Turtles and a new Turtle Titan are in this story, confrontations of the future and the past self in some way, shape or form are a running theme of Fast Forward, so why wouldn’t there be a Bishop clone running around

No clue how or why Zixx would ditch the whole "protect all of Earth" mentality, but when Bishop reforms himself and swings into the extreme of establishing intergalactic peace to a point where he can't even be partial towards Earth anymore, does it not make sense narratively for his foil to swing the other way, become a typical "only looking out for myself" type of guy?

"It could also be said that maybe Zixx shows off traits that Bishop usually obfiscates, with the self-serving nature being a good example. We know all of Bishop's grand goals are really just covering for the fact that he's scared and wants to protect himself, right? If you look at the core of everything he does, it's to benefit himself. Zixx forgoes making up any justifications and says it like it is: he only cares about himself and what others can do for him." - additional comment, courtesy of THE Bishop Guy™, @violetvulpini, who's the reason I'm going this insane rn in the first place.

In conclusion, I strongly believe that Torbin Zixx is a Bishop clone gone rogue, similar in origin to the Slayer aka Rat King. He is Bishop shaped, he gets to stand next to Bishop in the opening like they're anime foils to each other, and it is SO interesting to explore.

This has been Trauma, and you've been Zixxed ✌️💜

BONUS: Headcanon territory!

Zixx's purpose was to be a "back-up" clone. Bishop has been recording his findings and work since at least the EPF era when we meet him, so maybe these recordings are then uploaded somewhere so that in case he dies and can't make the body transfer, a new clone is awoken and informed of his purpose. For some reason this system has at some point malfunctioned and awoken Zixx despite Bishop surviving - possibly during the collapse of the lab he and Stockman used to work in, or during the space war that gets vaguely mentioned at one point.

"clone six" or "version six" somehow becomes "Torbin Zixx"?

How did Zixx become a vigilante? Well, we know Bishop doesn't have human blood. Presumably the blue goop that we see him bleed at the end of Bishop's Gambit is something synthesized specifically for his body, so I imagine it would be VERY hard to come by. This, I think, would very easily lead to a life of crime he has more than the ideal set of skills for.

Bishop probably wants him obliterated but can't reasonably dedicate resources to catching or killing who he KNOWS is gonna be the ultimate most hard-to-kill guy in the known universe.

He steals Bishop's fancy car specifically just to piss him off <3

[asvterias]

𝖢𝗁𝖺𝗉𝗍𝖾𝗋 𝟦: 𝖮𝗇𝗅𝗒 𝖥𝗈𝗋 𝖸𝗈𝗎

Series Masterlist || The Cast || Previous Chapter || Next Chapter

chapter warnings: some jealousy and minor cursing

chapter pairings: lynn loud x black!fem!reader, platonic!bailey family x platonic!lynn, platonic!loud family x platonic!reader

word count: 5.9k+

tag list: @sheluvv-jen

author’s note: there’s finally some romance going on!

also send me a private message, an ask, or leave a comment if you want to be apart of the taglist!

The next morning over at the Louds’ house was productive, to say the least. You changed into a sleeveless mini red plaid dress that dangled over mid-knees with a pair of black converses to match. After getting dressed, Lynn wasn’t upstairs so you assumed that she was downstairs, but to your surprise when you checked, she wasn’t there either.

Lori had informed you that Lynn was out and wouldn’t be back till later. That was how you found yourself conversing with the teen rockstar, Luna Loud. For half of your Sunday morning, you spent with Luna, just discussing each other’s interests. You and Luna settled for breakfast next to each other. You ate some pancakes with orange juice while Luna just ate cereal.

Lunch has rolled around and Lynn arrives back at home, but not empty-handed. You walked up to her, curious to see what she had brought but she gave it to her mom for safekeeping. Luckily for you, the design logo on the mini bag gave it all away; Birmingham Jewelry. You felt completely clueless being fully aware that Lynn wasn’t the type to wear any fancy jewelry at all, mostly sporting tiny earrings.

Although seeing the frown form upon your face after the encounter with her mom, she shrugged it off. She didn’t trust herself with priceless items, especially if she was planning to give them to you. It was safer in her mom’s hand anyways. Better to be safe than sorry, right?

You ventured upstairs, making your way into Lynn’s and Lucy’s room. Lynn was not that far behind, catching up to you rather quickly, her speed becoming an instinct at this point.

“Where were you all morning?” You interrogated, crossing your arms.

“I was out…” The athletic girl trails off.

“Out where?” You pushed her further.

“Look, [name], that doesn’t matter, but I’m here now. So can we just drop it?” She sighs loudly and sits on her bed.

You scoff unconvincingly at her trying to change the topic of your conversation but allowing it with the rolling of your eyes.

“Fine,” You flop your body next to her, looking at her iPad’s screen, noticing that she was on an online shopping website. “So…what are you shopping for?”

“I’m trying to get these new cleats but they’re so expensive…” She groans, gently shoving the tablet in your hands and flinging herself on the bed. “Or the ones that are at a decent price, they don’t have it in my shoe size. It totally sucks!”

“Well, what happened to your current cleats?” You scrolled through the viable options of baseball cleats.

“They’re all worn out and I desperately need one for the new season.” She explains with a tone of annoyance, feeling defeated. You looked at her with sympathy in your eyes, remaining silent, unsure of what to say. “It’s nothing for you to worry about anyways, let’s go get lunch.” She hastily cut you off, not wanting any more non-verbal pity from you.

“Yeah, let me use the bathroom, first.” She nodded you off and you headed towards the bathroom.

When you finished using the bathroom, you were in the hallway and stopped by Luna. “Hey, [name]!” Luna smiles, popping up from her doorway. “Mind if I steal you for a sec? Lynn’s not gonna mind.”

“Sure, don’t see any harm in that.” You complied, walking into Luna’s room.

She grabbed her guitar and sat down on her purple DI box. “Thanks, I just need a second opinion on this tone that I’m working on for my new song.”

“Go right ahead.”

She fiddled with the guitar strings, piecing together an upbeat melody. The lively tune was very hypnotic, almost placing you in a trance but it wavered away when she stopped.

“It’s great, I like it!”

“Thanks, you’re the best, [name].” You nodded in agreement, leaving the bedroom, searching for Lynn, thinking that she’d be where you left her.

“I swear this girl…has a habit of running off whenever I leave.” You mumble to yourself, looking into the empty room in which you last left Lynn.

Her voice seemed near. “So, I brought her this bracelet from this crazy-ass expensive jewelry store and I was planning to give it to her when she has her tennis tournament.” Following Lynn’s voice, you stopped at the twins’ bedroom, finally finding the source of the sound.

Lola’s and Lana’s bedroom door was slightly cracked open, sufficient for unintentional eavesdropping. Neither of the girls noticed you by the door and resumed their conversation.

“Since you’re one of the only people in this family, who has good jewelry taste. I mean, I would ask Leni but then she’d probably tell.”

“Say no more and show me the bracelet,” Lola demands, pausing for a few minutes before sighing, “It’s gorgeous. Is that her birthstone beside her initials, that’s so thoughtful.”

“Really, you think? Cause I spent all weekend having it customized by the jewelers.” Guess that also explained why she was being so secretive whenever she held her tablet around you.

“Oh, I don’t think, I know. Trust me, she’s gonna love it.”

It sparked her confidence. “Thanks, sis.”

“No problem! Now let’s get back to business.”

“Are you sure that she’ll like it, Lola?” Lynn asks with a hesitant look on her face.

“I’m 100% positive!! Now, put some more glitter on there.”

You were already downstairs with your packed bag, sitting on the couch watching television with Lincoln and Clyde while Lynn packs her overnight bag and hauls it downstairs. After spending the weekend with Lynn, your mother only saw it fair to have Lynn spend the weekend at your house. Neither of you has disagreed on the matter, rather enjoying spending more time together.

“Ok, do guys want me to drop you?” Mrs. Loud offers. Lynn joins you on the couch with her overnight bag parked by her feet.

“Oh, no thanks. Mrs. Loud, I’m getting picked up.” You answered.

“By one of your parents?”

“No, by my driver.”

A car honks outside, signifying that your ride is here. “Oh, that’s him. See you guys later.” You barged out the door with Lynn right behind you. You discarded your bags into the limo’s trunk as Lynn did the same and got into the car.

“His name is Mike and he’s my family chauffeur,” You introduce Lynn to him.

“So how rich are you?”

“What? Want me to give you a number?” You playfully ask, taking it as a joke.

It was very surprising when she nodded. “Oh! Well, I would say $5 million rich.”

“$5 million!!” She exclaimed, “Do you know what I could do with 5 million dollars?” You giggled at her outburst, finding it adorable.

“You can do a lot, Lynn.”

An idea came to your head at that moment. An idea that would solve Lynn’s sports problem. You knocked on the small glass barrier that separated you and the driver as he rolled it down. Whispering something inaudible to Mike and he nods at your instructions.

“What are you up to, gorgeous?” She detects that mischievous smirk plastered on your lips.

“Nothing for you to worry your pretty little head about,”

That was all you said, wanting Lynn to play the guessing game for your delight. The car drive to your house was deterred and rerouted to the nearest shoe store.

Lynn noticed the difference in the passing houses that she’d grown familiar with. “Hey, this isn’t the way to your house.” Her eyebrows furrowed in utter confusion.

“I know, baseball girl.” You shrug, “But a certain someone said that they needed new cleats and we’re getting them for her.”

“You don’t have to do that for me, [name].“

You rested your hand on top of hers, and gazed into her eyes, “Well too bad because I want to.”

“What if I don’t want you to?” She folds her arms in a joking manner.

“Then I’m going against your wishes.” You concluded.

The car stops, indicating your arrival at the shoe store, and you two step out of the car. The perplexed look on Lynn’s face was so priceless which had you feeling extremely giddy on the inside.

“Are we gonna stay standing outside all day or are we going inside?”

She grabs your hand, tugging you along with her to the entrance of the shoe store. After two hours of shopping through sports equipment, Lynn is finally done and you’ve never been so bored in your entire life, but there was something about the familiar gleam in her eyes that made you change your mind. Your sentiment towards Lynn’s favorite sport changed just because you knew that she admired it so much.

You, Lynn, and Mike had to carry all of the items to the counter due to there being so many sports items.

Lynn had doubled up on everything. New socks, new cleats, new baseball bats, duffle bags, and batting helmets, and all because you told her to get anything she wanted. Well, she did fulfill her heart’s desire and you were content that you made that happen.

“Is this your dad’s credit card?” She asked.

“No,” You scoff, flashing her the name of the card. “It’s my credit card. We all have our own credit card and bank account, it’s better this way.”

She nodded in acknowledgment with a tint of blush on her face. You paid for Lynn’s items and you all headed back to the car, putting them in the limousine’s back trunk.

“Come on, let’s get food, whatever you want, it’s my treat.”

“Chick-fil-A is the best!”

“Chick-fil-A it is.”

Mike drove down to the nearest Chick-fil-A and you all ate inside, tired of lounging around in the car for the last few hours.

“Why did you pay for all those things for me?”

“I just wanted to spoil you today.”

Since your eavesdropping incident, you wanted to repay her kindness without letting her know that. What? She was already giving you something, so it was all in good time.

During the car ride back home, Lynn slept like a baby in the comfort of your arms. Apparently being a consistent athlete meant that she slept very easily.

Eventually, Mike was granted access to your security gate and he parked close by the front door. You wrapped an arm around her waist so most of her body weight would depend on you. Surprisingly, Lynn was very lightweight, making it easy to carry her outside of the car. While assisting Lynn, Mike had brought all the baggage out of the car and left them in your care.

“I’m not tired.” She mumbles, trying to fight her tiredness. You made it to your bedroom door as you opened it and walked inside.

“Yes, you are.”

You placed the brunette girl on your bed, tugging her into the fresh sheets, watching her slightly stir trying to find a comfortable position.

You left the bedroom for your bathroom to change into your practice outfit, abandoning a sleeping Lynn, and heading into the backyard to practice.

You had set up your tennis trainer, putting it on a medium pace. Your tennis trainer helped launch the balls to you without the help of another person, so it was money well spent.

Within a few hours of your practice, Lynn was finally awake and caught you practicing tennis. She sits down on the singular black bench by the far corner to your right, watching you train freely.

“I thought that you ditched me, and was almost worried for a sec.”

“Oh please, I would never do that to my baseball girl.” You grinned, swinging your racket to hit the flying balls.

“You know, I like it when you’re looking at me.” She emphasized.

“And I like it when I’m winning so hold off for a bit.” Too focused on the practice, you didn’t realize Lynn walking over to your tennis trainer, and turning it off.

“What the hell Lynn?” You shout, now distracted from your tennis rehearsal.

“I told you in advance that I’d rather you look at me.”

“Okay,” You nod before pointing to the bucket of tennis rackets, “Grab a racket and help me practice.”

“W-what? That’s not what I meant.”

“You wanted my full attention during practice and now you got it. Get a tennis racket.”

She sighed and retrieved a tennis racket, walking over to the court.

“Ok, we’ll do a simple round.” You said, flinging the ball in the air before whacking it over to Lynn.

She swung but missed it by a few meters. Not too shabby for a first-timer.

“That was a love for you.”

During the middle of your game, you became more driven with each swing and hit. Lynn felt inclined to pry into your peculiar behavior, “Ok, you’re training harder than I’ve ever seen you do.”

“This is your first time seeing me play.”

“Exactly and I can tell that you’ve been adding unnecessary pressure when hitting the ball. What’s going on with you?”

You fiddled with the green ball in your hands, deciding that practice was finished for today. You threw the ball on the ground, and walked over to her, close enough to the net.

“I have this upcoming tournament and my opponent Emma Campbell is highly known for being the teen best tennis player and I just feel like I might lose to her.”

“What didn’t you tell me?” She gently squeezed your hands, trying to coax an answer out of you.

“Because…you said that tennis wasn’t exactly a real sport.”

“You know [name], tennis isn’t really my forte unlike you. But for you, I’ll try to understand and enjoy it. Tell me when your next game is, and I guarantee that my family and I will be the first ones there.” You giggled at her heart-warming gesture. “And don’t worry about Emma Campbell, I’m pretty sure that half the time that she’s cheating.”

“Really, you think?”

She hums, nodding her head, “Now, I think that you should practice a bit more, but without the force, can you do that for me, beautiful?”

“Of course, I can.”

The next morning was nerve-racking for you as you got dressed. You tied your hair in a ponytail and dressed in a black tennis outfit with a black sports visor and white tennis shoes. On the other hand, the car ride over to the country club eased up your anxiety alongside your family’s reassuring words.

As soon as your car stopped in front of the country club, you grabbed your racket bag and sprinted out in search of a particular brunette. You spotted Lynn and her family in the shaded stands with a giant poster, encouraging your future win. Natalie was there for your support system as well.

Right now, you were in the stands talking with Lynn. To be honest, you did most of the talking or rather rambling while Lynn did her best to alleviate your continuous panicking.

It took Lynn a little while to calm you down. “[Name], I wanted to give you something before you go.” Lynn stops you.

“What is it, Lynn?” You inquire with a confused gleam in your eyes. At first, she didn’t answer as if she was contemplating whether to continue. Your eyes caught sight of a baby blue box in her hands that she horribly hid behind her back. “Is that for me?”

Her eyes widened at your question. “Yeah, it is!” She handed you the box and grinned when you took it from her hands. Lifting the top cover of the box, opening it to reveal a stunning bracelet. It was a beaded bracelet that had your first name initials next to your birthstone.

“It was kinda hard to find your birthstone on such short notice.”

“It’s beautiful, Lynn, thank you.” You cooed, taking the jewelry out of the box and putting it on your right hand. This generous gift certainly felt like a good luck charm bracelet. For a while, you admired the stunning bracelet on your wrist before looking up and noticing the giant poster that her parents held. “Is that why you were in Lola’s room? To make me that poster?”

“How did you know that I was in Lola’s room?”

“Your frustrations were very easy to spot.”

She laughs boisterously, earning a few annoyed looks from strangers but she ignores them. If they weren’t you then she wouldn’t give them the time of day.

“Oh, umm…your sisters wanted me to give you this.” She showed you a dainty gold necklace with a crescent moon lingering at the bottom. You recognized it when you were shopping with your sisters for the first time in Royal Woods. Cassandra had the sun, Madison had the star and you with the moon.

“Can you put it on me?” You ask, giving her the necklace and turning around.

“Of course, anything for you, beautiful.” You felt flush under those words. Those simple words shouldn’t have such a major effect on you but it did.

She brushes your hair to the left and clips the necklace around your neck, securing it. Turning back around to face her, you smile at her, gazing into each other’s eyes lovingly.

Just then, the loudspeaker announces with a booming voice, simultaneously breaking the shared eye contact “May all tennis players make their way to the tennis court. The game is about to start in 5 minutes.”

“You’re gonna crush it!” She bids you off with a cheek kiss, watching you scurry off down to the tennis court, warming up for the last time. Lynn joins her family back at the bleachers and sat down, ready to enjoy the competition.

“So, are you two dating?” Lori asks, leaning into Lynn subtly whose eyes were trained on your figure.

“What!” Incredulously, she turned to look at her eldest sister, breaking her sight away from you, “No, we’re not dating.”

“Are you sure?” Leni chimed in, now seemingly interested. “You two seem pretty close.”

“Yes, I’m sure.” The brunette girl deadpanned.

“Really?” Luna invites herself into the conversation. “Then how come you can afford brand new cleats that are very expensive…and all new sports equipment?”

“[Name] offered to buy me new cleats and other items as well.” She explains with a shrug of her shoulder, “How could I have said no?”

“Really?” Lori persisted with a raise of her eyebrows, “And did [name] offer to buy you lunch as well?”

Lynn nods. “Yeah, so?”

“And it was also Lynn’s idea to create this giant poster.” Lola and Lana walk over.

“Wait, is that why you were gone Sunday morning to buy [name] a bracelet?” Luna questions.

“Yeah, what was the store where you got it from?” Leni rambles, tilting her head to the side, trying to remember. “It was Birmingham Jewelry. Woah, sis, that place is like crazy expensive, those pair of necklaces that I brought from them took me 6 months’ allowance.”

“That jewelry store is the most expensive in town, Lynn. Wow, you really must like this girl.” Lori expresses with a grin.

“Guys, I’m just trying to be supportive.” Lynn finalizes, trying to stop her sister’s meddling in her love life. “There’s nothing wrong with being supportive.”

“As her friend or as her girlfriend?” Luna questions with a skeptical look, folding her arms. Lynn stays silent, avoiding eye contact with any of her sisters, unable to decipher a proper answer. Were they right? Did Lynn hope that you wanted to explore past the bounds of friendship with her? Of course, she did. She fell in love with you the moment that she laid her eyes on you which eventually turned her into a stuttering mess whenever you were with her. However, with the possibility of embarrassing rejection lingering in her mind, she kept her feelings hidden, buried deep down until she was certain that you would reciprocate those feelings back.

“Yeah, because nothing says supportive like a $300 bracelet,” Lori mumbles to Luna and Leni.

Luna drags Lynn away from the huge crowd, despite her protests. The two sisters are by the bottom of the bleaches, not straying too far away.

“Look, Lynn.” The rockstar starts with a deep exhale. “It’s okay to have feelings for [name]—“

“For the last time, I don’t have a crush on her!” She exclaims, momentarily shocking her older sister. “Why does everyone keep thinking that?”

Luna wasn’t convinced by her sister’s outburst, aware that she was in denial. Whether it was her developing feelings for you or the fact that you were a girl seemed to throw her off track.

“You can deny all you want, but we both know that you’re falling in love with [name]. It’s cute to see you all lovesick whenever she’s around.” She smiles, observing the coat of red appearing on her sister’s face by the mention of your name. “Now I’m not saying that you should rush your confession but at least wait it out to see if she’s at least reciprocating those feelings in return. That saves you less pain, regret, and embarrassment.”

“I’ve never had romantic feelings for someone and now when I realize it, I’m scared. I’m still exploring my sexuality.”

“It’s okay to stay unlabeled for now, you’ll know when the time is right. I’m your big sister and I’m not gonna judge you for being you. You’re still my annoying sporty and loving younger sister, Lynn and I love you for it.’

“But what if…” She looks down and sheepishly kicks her feet, “I do confess and she doesn’t like me back, and it ends up all weird between us two.…”

“Then it’s her loss.” She slides a comforting arm around Lynn’s shoulder, “She missed out on someone really awesome.”

“Thanks, Luna.”

“Anytime sis.”

“And besides, if you two lovebirds get together, we can go on double dates.”

“Hard pass.” Lynn laughs, getting a playful shove from Luna, who just laughs as well. Luna was happy that she was able to brighten Lynn’s spirits regarding her possible love life.

The two girls rejoin their family in the crowd. Just then, your family finds their seats next to the Loud family and greets them with a wave of their hands.

Alongside the help of Luna, Lynn confidently holds up the poster with a matching smile etched on her face. “You got this, [name]!” She enthusiastically cheered. Both of your families made noises of encouragement as well.

Down at the tennis court, you heard her voice very faintly but smiled nonetheless.

“Oh, that’s so cute!” Your current competition, Emma Campbell sneers with fake sympathy, “Your little girlfriend cheering for you in the stands, so cliche.” The blonde rolls her eyes. To be honest, you’ve never liked the Campbell girl, whether it was her snobbish attitude or her inconsideration of other people. “Too bad that she’s gonna be cheering for a loser in a few minutes and maybe I’ll steal her away from you.”

“Oh, shut up!” You defended Lynn. “We both know that Lynn could do so much better than you.”

“Why are you so worried about Lynn? Aren’t you two just friends?”

“I never said that!”

“Yeah, whatever!” Emma drags on, “You should know that me and Lynn are kinda an item.”

“What type of drugs are you on?” You boisterously exclaimed. To say that you were shocked would be the understatement of the year. Surely, Lynn would have told you if she was talking to someone else. The athletic girl didn’t seem like the two-timing type, and she wasn’t…she couldn’t be…right?

‘No! Don’t overthink, Emma’s just trying to get under your skin! Besides, Lynn is a great girl, she’s not conniving, she’s generous. She gifted you that specialized bracelet.’ You think. ‘The gesture was sweet and so is she.’

“And how long have you been pining over Lynn for?”

“Doesn’t matter!”

“It does if it concerns Lynn.”

“Fine! I’ve had a crush on her since we were ten!”

You didn’t mean to have a bitchy attitude, you swear. But it just happened, and you couldn’t stop it and you weren’t planning on stopping it either.

“How about this…” She suggested, “Whoever wins this game gets to ask Lynn out on a date. The loser can’t interfere with their relationship.”

You scoff at her desperate attempts of being in a relationship. “Lynn’s not an object! She’s a human girl, like the rest of us, who has feelings. Let her ask out whoever she wants, even if it isn’t any of us.”

“You’re only saying this because you know that Lynn’s gonna choose me.”

“What makes you think that? Is it the lack of communication that you have with Lynn or is it the heavy delusion that lingers in your mind all day? She barely acknowledged you before and when I moved to town, we became instantly captivated with one another.” You say, “So I’m certain that I have a better chance with her than you’ll ever do.”

“You’re just saying that to throw me off my game.”

“Oh, please, throwing you off your game will require you to have any game, and you’re lacking that.”

“What? Scared that you’re gonna lose!”

She was losing this argument and you could tell that she was choking up.

“To you? You’re not even real competition!”

Your bold comment earned a petty eye roll from the other teen as she began the first serve. The first match commenced and the scores were being rallied up.

You were at complete ease throughout the entire game, finding your inner peace with your love for tennis. On the other hand with Emma about Lynn, your jealousy had gained immediate control of your hand performance but you managed to restrain yourself, not needing overkill to happen and cost you the game.

The intensity that you radiated during the game only strengthened when you closely observed your opponent’s strategy to keep herself on point. Although you were in the lead, Emma was sneakily rising slowly. However, your fierce movements didn’t stagger, not even once, highly determined to win.

The medium-sized green ball was constantly tossed, bouncing between the two sides of the court. The sun was blazing, urging you to forfeit the match right then and there in the middle of the intense game. Might as well get used to the scorching heat because this was the first out of three matches to complete.

This tournament was going to be in the bag, and the trophy will be just another memento in your awards case.

The next game passed with ease, putting the crowd in anticipation when the scores were beginning to even up. It was a heavy tie for the second round, bringing up your anxiety.

This was it. The third and final round of your match. It was the final round that would determine your success and prove your ability to maintain a winning streak. You were gonna crush it! And certainly, destroy Emma Campbell’s athletic self-esteem, partially for Lynn, loathing those words that Emma spoke of her.

The judges called for a mini-break, letting you and Emma relax and recharge your energies. You headed over to the table that supplied the refreshments and grabbed a cold bottle of water.

The two families made their way over there as fast as they could, no longer containing their excitement as they bombarded you with chaotic noises.

“That was amazing!” Lynn cheers.

Natalie exclaims with a radiant smile. “Yeah, you were so terrific out there!”

“You crushed it out there!” Everyone else voiced their agreement with your future victory.

“I would totally hug you right now if you weren’t so sweaty.” Leni complies with an innocent grin, “Oh what the hell!” She pulled you in for a short hug, earning laughs as she did so.

You both pulled away from the hug. “Well, I haven’t won yet.” You drink your cold bottled water as it refreshes your dry throat. “So, let’s not jinx it.”

Everyone chuckles and Lynn pulls you away for a private conversation.

“You know what I mean, beautiful, this game is yours,” She bit her lip.

“Thanks for the encouragement, loud.” You tease, shoving her playfully watching the smile emerge on her lips. “I’m feeling more confident by the second.”

“It’s not encouraging if we both know that it’s true. That other girl has nothing on you.”

She handed you three orange slices, making sure that you ate all of them, keeping you well-nourished. Sometimes when you’re too focused on something, you tend to forget about the basic needs such as eating and drinking. Luckily, Lynn had noticed the tiny flaw and she wanted to end that bad habit of yours. “Gotta keep my superstar properly fed.”

Heading back to the rest of the group as you started to talk with Luna and Lori. Emma skips over with a sneaky grin on her face. God, you wished that you could have wiped that stupid smile off of her face.

“Hey, Lynn.” She greets, already managing to get into the brunette’s personal space. Talk about having boundaries.

Her eyebrows furrowed in confusion but her smile welcomes the blonde. “Uh, hey…Emma is it?”

“Yep, you guessed right.” She giggles annoyingly, making you roll your eyes.

“So, what do you want?”

As she speaks to Lynn, you notice how Emma advanced to arm touching, sometimes leaning in slightly whenever she found one of Lynn’s statements amusing. In your opinion, she was too much of a try-hard, and that irked you to your soul. You could see that Lynn was uncomfortable, and it made you furious at the sight. You glared at the blonde girl with hatred in your eyes and decided that two can play that game.

All of a sudden. you felt your hidden anger transport to your plastic water bottle that was held in your hand. With every touch that Emma gave Lynn, the pressure on the bottle intensified until it didn’t…well it couldn’t anymore. The water emerges from out of the bottle, aiming directly at Emma’s face.

She shrieked, flinching at the contact as she tried to shield herself from the attack, coming up to no avail. Stuck in a trance state, you didn’t let go of the bottle and rather squeezed it tighter so your sister Madison didn’t grab the bottle out of your hands until it was empty. Turns out, no one stepped in to cease Emma’s embarrassment, seemingly taking amusement in it as well. It ultimately messed up her rich-girl look, drenching her face and ruining her semi-makeup.

“It’s just water! It’s not gonna harm you.” Cassandra taunts the girl.

Madison shrugs. “You’ll be fine! Just dab some concealer on and you’re good to go.”

Her gaze planted on you was lethal, barely touching the surface of making you tremble. Her supposedly dangerous stares at you made her look like a terrible joke.

To make sure that you rubbed salt directly on the wound, you walked over, wrapped your arm around hers, and kissed Lynn on the cheek before pulling away with a cheery smile. “I’ll see you at my house later,” You wink at her, enjoying the thrill of her flustered state.

You watch as Lynn and both of your families leave and head back to the bleachers with a faux smile plastered on your face.

Once you turned around, facing your arch-nemesis, your smile immediately dropped as you ventured closer to her.

“Listen here, you bitch.” You scowled, with fury rising in your voice. Her eyes stared into yours, trying to intimidate you, desperately failing while doing so.

“If you ever come around Lynn, uncomfortably touch her, or even look at her wrong like that again, you will be done for. I will bash your fucking head in so much that you’ll be completely unrecognizable that even your own mirror won’t remember you.”

“Woah, don’t tell me that you’re overprotective of Lynn.” She was teasing you relentlessly at this point. Practically urging you to fight her with that ugly little smirk on her face. But you weren’t gonna play her stupid mind games like she intended.

Catching her by surprise, you roughly grab ahold of her arm, pulling her in closer by force. So to the bystanders, it looked like you were whispering in her ear, engaged in a friendly banter. Right now, you were feeling anything but friendly towards her.

“I don’t tread lightly with the people that I care deeply about and now that you’re highly aware that Lynn is one of them, I’m letting you off with a simple warning.” Your tone was menacing, slowly seething your words out. “If you’re smart enough, don’t wait around to find out.” She felt herself inaudibly gulp and tremble as you kept speaking. “Or do you, I haven’t fought a rich bitch in so long and need a little deja-vu.”

And with that, you roughly released her arm from your grip and walked over to the court. Emma watched you leave, uneasiness forming in the pit of her stomach at your threatening words.

Stomping her feet like a big baby, she ran off, searching for her parents to assist in fixing up her appearance again.

You felt like you were on top of the world. Now, you just have to win this competition and your success will reign. It was close that you smelt the victory from here.

You won the game! Fuck, it feels good to relive the moments leading up to your fantastic victory. When the triumphant photo was taken to be put in the country’s club headline for this week, you all had crammed in, wanting to be included. The huge trophy that you held righteously in your hand while being in the middle, sure did you justice.

Your family had hosted a celebratory dinner at the finest restaurant in town. Of course, you were seated beside your beloved Lynn and your best friend Natalie.

“I’m so proud of you, sweetie.” She wrapped an arm around you, pulling you in closer for comfort as she kissed your cheek.

You blushed, feeling yourself heat up on the spot, ignoring the knowing looks from Lori and Luna.

The dinner was an absolute blast so Lynn and her family crashed the night at your house. Your parents showed the Loud family the guest rooms, allowing them the comfort of beds. Somehow, you showered all of the sweat from earlier games, changing into warm pajamas. Tiredly, Lynn had followed you up to your bedroom, seeking your cuddles, in hopes of a good night’s sleep.

© asvterias, 2023. please do not plagiarize any of my works.

[sunshine-overload]

[BSTS] Main Story Season 5 Finale ‘Owner’s Order’ - Part 1

Chapter 1

-starless office-

haseyama: Good grief, this is no joking matter. You seriously planned to manage our expenses like this?

unei: B-but, I kept a record of all the costs and our income. Well, it wasn't me but Takami-san and Kasumi-san that handled it, but the point still stands...

haseyama: Did you even look at the annual plan? If you didn't check it then who will, huh? 

Installing a jukebox, renting out another lesson room and not to mention adding two new cast members. Not a single one of these things was on the plan!

This isn't just an issue of income but an issue with the store management as a whole. You and the temporary management team just did whatever you wanted!

unei: Uu, I'm very sorry...

-iwami walks in-

iwami: Hey hey, isn't that a cruel thing to say to the guy who's been working hard to keep this place afloat during your absence?

unei: Ah, Iwami-san!

haseyama: Why the hell are you here? I don't remember calling for you. You've got no say in this anyway, you're an outsider. So head on home, mister previous owner.

iwami: Hahah, you do have a point there.

-kokuyou walks in-

kokuyou: Oi, Unei, about the next performance—

-he sees haseyama and iwami-

kokuyou: Uh, what's going on here?

unei: I don't know. Boss was scolding me and then Iwami-san decided to drop by.

kokuyou: That so? Well, good luck with that, I'll just talk to you later.

-kokuyou tries to leave-

nekome: C'mon Kokuyou, no need to leave so soon.

kokuyou: How come you're here?

nekome: Hmm, who knows. I just came to see what Kou-san was up to. Also I feel bad seeing Unei-kun getting in trouble, you should help him out, Kokuyou.

kokuyou: Why should I?

iwami: Whether you want to help or not is irrelevant, you should hear what I have to say too, Kokuyou. Haseyama, I've come here to propose a bit of a fun game to you.

haseyama: Fun game?

iwami: Nostalgic, is it not? It's like the time you snatched the rights to Starless away from me.

kokuyou: What are you talking about?

haseyama: Don't speak so disrespectfully or you'll piss of Mister Starless over here. I obtained the rights to Starless in a perfectly fair deal, we exchanged written contracts and did everything by the books.

Or what? Don't tell me you want to take the store back? It's a bit late for that, don't you think?

iwami: I don't have the means to do that. Starless is your store. However, you still haven't been able to find what you've been searching for these past five years, have you?

haseyama: ...I have no idea what you're blabbering about. C'mon now, outsiders shouldn't be in this office, out out.

iwami: Say, how about we make a bet? If I win, you have to do one little favour for me.

haseyama: Do you really think I'd bite at such a vague offer? Are you stupid?

iwami: Hey, don't refuse it so soon. If you win, then I'll give you the information that you're looking for. Information on that thing you haven't been able to find for five years.

haseyama: That thing huh...

unei: Um, what does he mean by that? I know every nook and cranny of this store pretty well and I have no idea.

haseyama: Quiet, this doesn't involve you.

unei: Ywes! Excuse me!

kokuyou: The deal sounds good to me, you should accept it, Haseyama. I'll even help you win.

haseyama: Kokuyou? Did you just say... That you'll help me?

kokuyou: Yeah, you ain't got a problem with it right? There's something I want to know too after all. I wanna know the reason that the previous owner of Starless over here sold off the store to you.

nekome: Sounds good, then I'll take Kou-san's side.

kokuyou: 'Kay, meet me in the parking lot.

nekome: What? No way. Don't make it sound like I just signed up for a fist fight. When it comes to competitions in Starless there's only one way to go about it.

kokuyou: And what's that?

nekome: A versus performance, obviously.

—end

-

Chapter 2

-starless office-

kokuyou: A versus? What, between Haseyama and Kou-san?

nekome: Kokuyou, you'll represent Haseyama and I'll be the representative for Kou-san. How about that?

haseyama: Why have you all decided I accepted the proposal?

kokuyou: What, you scared? I already said I'd fight for you.

haseyama: Don't try to provoke me, you punks really can't help yourselves can you? Fine, I suppose I'll take you on then. You better win now, Kokuyou-san.

iwami: Then it's decided. It'll be a versus between Haseyama and I, the previous and current store owner.

haseyama: I'll tear you to shreds, you better be prepared.

kokuyou: You're not the one that'll actually be doing anything though…

unei: A versus between the previous and current owner... If that's the case, then the whole store should participate! Starless currently has 28 cast members, it's an even number so we could have two teams of 14. 

nekome: Oo good idea Unei-kun. That sounds like fun.

unei: Eheheh.

haseyama: Don't go complimenting him too much. But, if everyone will participate then... I'll be taking Kei-sama.

iwami: Then I'll take Rindou.

unei: Oh, if you're going to nominate your own team members then I'll write them down!

kokuyou: Oi, pick someone who knows how to move.

haseyama: I'll take Mokuren then.

iwami: Ok, Mizuki for me.

haseyama: I guess I should pick someone that's smart. I'll go with Takami.

iwami: Oh? Then I'll be taking Sotetsu. Gotta keep all sources of information under control after all.

haseyama: He's a nuisance so you can take him. As for our singer, Akira should be fine, right Kokuyou?

kokuyou: Sounds good.

iwami: I figured you'd pick him. I'll take Yoshino.

kokuyou: We should pick another singer too.

haseyama: Uh~ Who else is there... Guess I'll pick the one with a screw loose. We'll take Zakuro.

nekome: Kou-san, let's take Maica.

iwami: Sure, we'll be taking Maica.

haseyama: Oh yeah Yakou sings now too doesn't he? I'll have him working for me.

iwami: Our side needs a big guy, so we'll take Sin.

nekome: Pfft, you're picking based on height now?

kokuyou: What're you doing, man? You let them take the biggest guy.

haseyama: It's fine we'll just take Kongou. He's stupidly buff as well.

iwami: No need to put it so rudely. I'll take Kasumi next.

haseyama: Hmm, who's left... Oh right, I almost forgot Lico.

kokuyou: We don't need him…

iwami: Picking your little underling huh? Well whatever, I'll pick Ginsei.

haseyama: Crap, he picked the guy with common sense... Let's see, who else is normal, uh... Menou?

kokuyou: You seriously count him as normal?

nekome: The owner is quite thoughtless huh~ How about we take Taiga? That's fine right?

iwami: Sure, just don't go picking a fight with him.

haseyama: Oh right right, let's take Hari. His father is one scary man.

iwami: It's quite the sight seeing you try and suck up to someone with more authority than you. Who else should we take?

nekome: How about Sinju? Having someone upbeat would be good.

haseyama: Kokuyou, who else is left?

kokuyou: We'll take Ran. He can go toe to toe with Mizuki.

nekome: Are you not going to pick Hinata, Kou-san?

iwami: Oh right, we should probably take him.

haseyama: Uhh, hmm... Ah, we'll take Gui.

iwami: Then I'll take Qu. I think we've made a nicely balanced team.

unei: That just leaves Heath-san and Aogiri-san.

haseyama: Heath's a pain to deal with, so I guess we'll pick Aogiri. I can get to know him better.

iwami: Then that leaves us with Heath.

unei: One, two... Yep, the cast has been divided evenly. Just looking at this list of names is exciting, I think it's going to be a great show.

kokuyou: Look forward to it then, Unei. You're the one that's going to be making all the preparations for it.

unei: Ah, right! I need to get the merch and flyers ready!

nekome: Good luck, Unei-kun. You too, Kokuyou. Looks like this will be fun.

kokuyou: Yeah, it doesn’t sound half bad. I'll crush you, so look forward to it.

—end

-

Chapter 3 

-starless hallway-

unei: Ah, Saki-san! This is really bad~!

saki: What's wrong, Unei-san? You seem flustered.

unei: There's going to be a versus between the boss and Iwami-san!

saki: What? How did that happen?

unei: I'm not sure, it's because Iwami-san brought up searching for something. Something that the boss has been searching for the past five years. I have no idea what it could be though, he wouldn't tell me.

-kei walks up-

kei: What are you making a fuss about, Unei? Were you not taught that running is forbidden in hallways?

unei: Ah, Kei-san, I was looking for you. It's about the next performance!

kei: I have already got a grasp of the situation. Saki, I'd like to explain it to you as well. Could you lend me some of your time?

saki: Ok. It sounds like a big deal.

-starless office-

kei: As Unei was shouting earlier, the situation is quite unprecedented. Starless will be divided into two and hold a versus performance.

saki: You mean there'll be two teams?

unei: Yeah! I'm going to be so busy organising things! This isn't an easy task at all~~

kei: Haseyama and Iwami both nominated the members they wanted for their teams. There will be two teams and two shows. Starless will be cleanly split in two.

saki: Then each show will have 14 performers?

kei: The show's will be performed in groups of five chosen from the fourteen. Each role will have two or more people assigned to it. Meaning every performance will change depending on the member's interpretations.

unei: See~ This really is going to be a lot of work!

kei: We shall offer a new experience with every visit. Starless should be able to handle such a thing no problem.

-kei steps close to saki-

kei: No matter the show and no matter what role I play, I have confidence that I'll be able to bring a smile to your face.

saki: (Close...! He's way too close!)

-kei steps back-

kei: However, the situation surrounding this show truly is an arrogant affair. Haseyama and Iwami have gotten both you and the rest of the audience involved in their feud. 

unei: True, the audience doesn't have anything to do with either of their winning clauses.

saki: Is that so?

unei: From what I could gather the winner will get to ask a favour of the loser? Something like that. Boss doesn't like it when Iwami-san visits, so maybe he'll ban him from Starless for life?

kei: I wouldn't mind if it were only something that simple.

saki: (Seems like it's a more complicated matter than that... I wonder if Kei-san knows more about what's going on.)

kei: No matter what happens, it's nothing that you need to worry yourself over. Whoever wins or loses does not concern you. Starless' shows are for you, we will make sure they are of the highest quality.

The two shows for this performance are elaborately designed. They are two sides of the same coin. A pair of stories.

They are based on Milton's famous poem 'Paradise Lost'. While the source is the same, the show's will be from different perspectives. Haseyama's team focuses on the angel Raphael while Iwami's team focuses on Satan.

saki: So one's about the angels and one's about the devils? The atmosphere of both shows will be totally different then.

kei: Who shall you end up choosing? An angel or the devil himself? The choice is entirely up to whatever it is that you decide in your heart.

—end

-

Chapter 4

 -locker rooms-

mizuki: Oi, Hinata. Try this on for me.

hinata: Huh? Wait, this... Could this be... Really? Are you sure!?

mizuki: What, don't want it?

hinata: No, I want it! Of course I want it!! No takes backs once I put it on~

mizuki: I'll be waiting in the rehearsal room, head over once you're ready.

hinata: Ok!

-time pass, rehearsal room-

hinata: Tadaaa! The wait is over! Look look~! Doesn't this outfit suit me perfectly?

mizuki: Ooh! Looks great! You look badass, Hinata.

kongou: Oh, did your Team B stage outfit come in?

hinata: This feels unreal, I'm really wearing a B costume. I've dreamed about this moment for so long. This is what I wanted to show my brother, he's gonna be stoked to see that my dream has come true.

mizuki: You betcha he will be!

kongou: I didn't know preparations had already been made for Hinata to get a stage outfit.

mizuki: Well duh, that's cause I didn't tell anyone else about it.

hinata: Surprise!

mizuki: Surprise!

kongou: I was pretty shocked. It looks great on you, Hinata.

hinata: Thanks! Uwah~ This means I can finally stand on the stage now. I'll secure the win for Iwa-san no matter what!

kongou: Hahah, you're really fired up huh.

hinata: Of course I am! Iwa-san is obviously way cooler than Haseyama. I wish you were on our team too, Kongou.

mizuki: I know right? B's been cut in half. Hey, Kongou, how about you just join our side? Bring Ran and Lico too.

hinata: Yeah yeah! Team B full steam ahead. ♪

kongou: I'd love to but the teams weren't decided by us. Not to mention, the owner has been my employer for a long time now, so I don't mind supporting him.

Oh right, Hinata, you should go and introduce yourself to him properly. Meeting your boss is a fundamental part of being hired.

mizuki: Of course you'd say that. But Haseyama is our enemy! He's the leader of the enemy team!

hinata: Meaning Kongou is our enemy too this time huh? We'll be beating the shit outta you, so no hard feelings~ ♪

mizuki: Yeah, you better prepare yourself, Kongou! Let's get on with practice, Hinata. I'll give you a crash course!

-mizuki and hinata walk away-

kongou: They're both in high spirits.

—end

-

Chapter 4 SideA

-rehearsal room-

mizuki: Look, I'm telling you, that's not how the dance goes.

hinata: Wait wait, let me try it one more time!

mizuki: You need to be right on the beat during this part. Like this...

-mizuki dances-

mizuki: See? That feels way better.

hinata: Uu, that looks so complicated though.

mizuki: Don't worry about it and just do it. If you don't even attempt it you won't remember anything.

-mokuren appears-

mokuren: Oi, what are you two doing here?

mizuki: Can't you tell by looking? We're in the middle of practice. So don't interfere, get out.

mokuren: I have the room scheduled now, so you're ones who need to get out.

hinata: Could you give us just a liiitle bit longer? Or wait, why can't you just use the other half of the room?

mokuren: No. No excuses.

mizuki: Don't be so stingy. Let the newbie train.

mokuren: Hah.

mizuki: ...What, got a problem?

mokuren: No. I was just thinking that you're trying to poorly imitate Kokuyou again.

mizuki: The fuck is that supposed to mean? You wanna go?

mokuren: Did you think I'd take pity on you because training up a newbie is difficult?

mizuki: Bastard, you're gonna say that even after you wanted to steal Hinata for yourself?

mokuren: I have come to realise my mistake. Wanting to take him was a severe lapse in judgment.

hinata: Rude!

mizuki: Don't you dare underestimate him!

mokuren: Fine, then show me what a boy who can't dance or do anything without relying on others spoiling him can do. Even if it ends up being a disgrace of a performance it might make for a decent comedy act.

hinata: As if I'd let it become that!

mokuren: Quiet. Get out of here already. Or if you want me to forcibly kick you out then just say so.

mizuki: Fuck off! We were just about to leave anyways! C'mon, let's go, Hinata.

hinata: Wah, wait up, Mizuki!

-they leave-

mokuren: Good grief, finally some peace and quiet.

—end

-

Chapter 4 SideB

-haseyama's office-

hinata: Excuuuse me.

haseyama: What do you want? Don't just barge in here.

hinata: Just hear me out for a sec would you? I've come to gracefully make your acquaintance out of the goodness of my heart after all.

haseyama: Make my acquaintance?

hinata: Yep. I'm the promising new recruit, Hinata! So I look forward to working with you~

haseyama: Promising? You? Get out of here already.

hinata: I'm not going anywhere! I'm going to stand on the Starless stage and—

haseyama: You're not gonna be standing on anything, you're an understudy aren't you? Well whatever, I've made your acquaintance now so leave. You're interrupting my work.

hinata: ~~Argh I seriously can't stand you! You want me gone so bad but how come you're even here? Why do you want to be the owner of this place so badly? You don't even particularly care about Starless do you? Iwa-san told me that.

haseyama: Are you trying to tell me Iwami is any different?

hinata: Obviously! Iwa-san wants what's best for Starless.

haseyama: How nice.

hinata: The reason you're so obsessed with this place is cause you want one of those black coloured cards, right?

haseyama: What did you just say?

-haseyama stands up-

hinata: Wh- Wait, don't step closer to me.

haseyama: Oi, you just said 'black coloured card' right?

hinata: So what if I did?

haseyama: How much do you know?

hinata: Huh? Know? About what?

haseyama: About the card, dumbass. Tell me. Or do I have to make you?

hinata: I don't know much at all! I just know that Iwa-san is looking for one, so I thought it must be something important to Starless... The one we got recently ended up being a fake, but next time he'll get his hands on the real deal for sure!

haseyama: Pfft, hah. Hahahaha!

hinata: Wh— Why are you laughing? You're seriously freaking me out here.

haseyama: Oh it's nothing, I think I might like you after all.

hinata: ...Huuh?

haseyama: I've changed my mind. I won't chase you out of the store just yet. Well, if you can't pull your weight you'll be fired sooner rather than later anyways.

hinata: D-don't act so high and mighty~~~~! Just you watch! We'll win the hell out of this versus and overthrow you! You won't be laughing then!

-hinata leaves-

haseyama: My, things sure have gotten interesting around here. I'm glad I got discharged after all.

—end

-

Chapter 5

-break room-

ran: Heya Mizuki, good work today.

mizuki: …Sup.

ran: What's wrong, what's wrong? That's one grave expression ya have on ya face.

mizuki: Do not. My face always looks like this.

ran: Hahah no it doesn't~ If ya furrow your brow any further its gonna touch ya nose. Is somethin’ on ya mind? If so, ya trusty Ran-chan here will hear ya out.

mizuki: …I hate it.

ran: Hate what?

mizuki: This versus obviously. It's stupid, it's so fucking dumb.

ran: How come? I thought ya would be happy. You're on Iwami-san’s team and have Heath and Hinata with you. It's ya chance to get back at Haseyama who ya hate so much.

mizuki: Of course I want Kouichi to win. We ain't gonna be losing. But, the fact I have to share a role with that bastard Rindou and see B split in half like this. I hate it.

ran: Ooh, so that’s why. Well it can’t be helped can it? That's just how things turned out.

mizuki: Shut up, as if I’d accept you, Lico and Kongou being on Haseyama’s side.

ran: Well that's just how they chose, not like we had any say in it.

mizuki: Then just refuse to be on his team.

ran: We obviously can't do that. What's got ya so grumpy, Mizuki-chan?

mizuki: I ain't grumpy! Why the fuck did he nominate you three in the first place? Pisses me off.

ran: Come on, don't mind it. This kinda thing is fun every now and then.

mizuki: Fun?

ran: If this versus didn't happen then I wouldn't have had a chance to have a proper battle with ya. I’ve always wanted to do it at least once. A fist fight with ya on the stage, that is.

mizuki: …That so?

ran: Hmm, what's that? Don't tell me ya ain't confident ya can beat me?

mizuki: Don't be stupid. I’ll take you on, we’ll murder every single one of you dead.

ran: Nyahah! Now that's the Mizuki I know! I won't let ya kill me so easily though.

–end

-

Chapter 5 SideA

-bridge underpass, evening-

ran: Ya shouldn't be smokin’ on the street~

sotetsu: It’s fine, there's an ashtray here. By the way, that contact of yours that you gave me after Christmas was quite helpful. I got in touch with them and as expected their network of information is very impressive.

ran: Tch. Meanwhile they couldn't find out anythin’ for me.

sotetsu: Are you referring to that bombing incident? It's rare for them to not have any information on something.

ran: Nah, they did their job just fine, it was just too late. Who the culprit was, who they were working for and who made the request. Every last trace of him has been erased off the face of the earth.

sotetsu: Oh? Is that so?

ran: I got all excited thinkin’ about how I’ll make ‘em pay once I found out what gang he was from too~ Well, at the very least I know there's someone out there that's callin’ the shots.

sotetsu: Being able to effectively hide that much information must mean they're one formidable foe.

ran: Oh? Ya eyes are shining. Did I pique ya interest?

sotetsu: Well of course. However if you dig deeper into this just cause you're curious it's unlikely you’ll come out of it with just a few scratches.

-time pass, street, sunset-

ran: Hmm, let's see, how should I proceed from here? I need to find some kinda clue… Hm? Actually, come to think of it, back then…

-flashback-

ran (on phone): Hello? Are ya done analysin’ the contents of the card~? 

researcher (on phone): Yes. However, it did not contain any sort of list like I’d heard. Instead it appears to be some kind of storage device…

ran: There wasn't a list? Oh well. If it's a storage device then what's it used to store?

researcher: At this point in time I have no idea... All I know is that it's used to store something. However there are definitely traces of whatever was on here, so if you just give me a little more time…

ran: Hah? What kinda bullshit excuse is that? You clearly haven't found out anythin’. Well whatever, I don't get what it is either but I’ll come have a look at it myself.

-flashback end-

ran: Storage… A card that Rindou had…

-–end

(tl note: since it gets lost in translation here, 記憶媒体 is the word for storage device, the first word 記憶 kioku can also mean memories. So at the end ran saying ‘storage’ could have the double meaning of 'memory’)

-

Chapter 5 SideB

-starless back rooms-

qu: Taiga, do you know anything about that mountain of boxes over there? They look like they're empty, how come they're here?

taiga: Huh? Is that so? Unei-kun just put them all there a moment ago.

qu: Hmm, I guess we're going to be using them then?

taiga: It’s true they’re in the way though.

qu: Ah, let's move them later. The owner is coming this way.

taiga: Geh. Looks like he's talking to Mizuki?

haseyama: Hey now, I see you’re still wearing that impudent expression of yours.

mizuki: Shut up and disappear already.

haseyama: Telling your employer to 'disappear’, I wouldn't expect any less from Team B’s bratty leader. Seems like you're not a fan of this versus, hm? No one's forcing a stray dog like you to perform.

mizuki: It's my chance to destroy you, as if I wouldn't perform, idiot. Give me back Lico, Ran and Kongou. I’ll give you our P members in return.

haseyama: What are you going on about? You don't own them. They're all members of Starless, therefore they're mine for the taking. If you don't like how things work around here then feel free to leave. C’mon, no need to be modest, shoo shoo.

mizuki: Don't fuck with me, you're the one who should leave!

haseyama: The way Heath keeps collapsing is a liability too, if I can rid the place of you both it’d be great.

mizuki: Without me or Heath Team B wouldn't exist anymore you dumbshit.

haseyama: Then why don't we try something new? Lico can be the leader and we'll have Hinata sing. You and Heath will realise just how washed up you are in no time. Well, either way, whether I do anything or not your little Team B is bound to implode on its own eventually.

mizuki: Bastard, fuck you!

-qu steps in to stop mizuki-

qu: Mizuki, stop it!

haseyama: Go ahead and hit me, just know you really will be fired if you lay a hand on the man who owns the store

mizuki: Grhh, fuck off, I seriously… can't stand you…!

-taiga also grabs mizuki to hold him back-

taiga: Give it a rest already Mizuki! Calm down!

haseyama: What, not gonna do it? Where's your backbone to follow through, huh?

mizuki: Argh…!!

taiga: Mizuki…!

qu: Could you head to a different room please, Owner?

haseyama: Hah, look how well you all get along. The Iwami team must have some tight bonds.

-haseyama leaves-

mizuki: Godammit, I’m gonna fucking obliterate him! Mark my words…!

-mizuki punches a box-

mizuki: …!

-mizuki leaves-

qu: Thanks for your help, Taiga. He wouldn't have been able to get away with it if he resorted to violence in the store.

taiga: Whew, he was pretty worked up~ Not like I can blame him though. When the owner starts provoking you like that I can understand wanting to hit him.

qu: You’ve done well to hold back all this time then.

taiga: Punching someone won’t settle the dispute, trust me, I’m talking from experience here.

qu: Well, for now let's just clean up the mess Mizuki made out of the cardboard boxes.

taiga: Yeah.

–end

To Part 2

[redbelles]

5, 18, 69, and 76 for the fic writer meme!

5. how many wips do you have? what fandoms/pairings are they for?

yeah i've got wips

kidding! (mostly! not really. but only kind of. it's fine!)

i have just. so many fucking wips. don't wanna talk about how many i have because it's embarrassing, actually! this is absolutely because i consider anything i've written words for/thought about for more than a hot minute a """wip""" but that's a me problem, so here, have semi-comprehensive list of wips i'm determined to finish this year:

the chimneys hardly ever fall down masters of the air; post-war john/gale/marge

gonna stand here in the ache the punisher; post-season one frank/karen

our hands are cold, the moon sets low asoiaf/got; post-season eight jon/sansa

butchered tongue still singing berserk; post-canon guts/casca

something in the night gilmore girls; keg max!au jess/rory

don't you hear me howling, babe? shadow & bone; season one canon divergence darklina au

the second hand unwinds (time after time) stranger things; post-season four hellcheer au

and then, for fun, some wips that aren't top priority atm:

prophetic perfect tense dune; always a girl!paul atreides au

i've walked for miles top gun; post-canon icemav road trip au

more than kin and less than kind hotd; rhaenys flambés the greens at aegon's coronation au

the knife i turn inside myself dune; irulan/feyd post-kanly hatefucking + marriage of convenience au

18. do you enjoy research? which fic of yours required the most research?

yeah! i'm a nerd at heart and also i have a burning need to be canon-compliant with both canon and reality, so i love getting into the research weeds when i'm all in on a fic!

the most """research""" i've done for a fic was, astonishingly, for the fucking,,,,, robert baratheon story (that started life as, and i cannot stress this enough, a joke). i spent so many hours on a wiki of ice and fire i'm pretty sure i made up at least 40% of the site's traffic during the calendar year time it took me to write the damn thing. extremely normal behavior!

anyway! i'm actually in the opposite situation with chimneys, which is super weird. i know a staggering amount of information about the post-wwii usaaf/usaf, and i have to actively stop myself from a) infodumping about things like the development of the american bomber fleet and b) trying to make the timeline accurate, because the entire premise of the fic relies on me Ignoring what was actually going on. anti-research. insane! everyone pour one out for @sluttyhenley— she's spent the last two months taking one for the team and letting me rant at her about curtis lemay so i can get it out of my system and spare everyone who's there for porn instead of a dissertation on strategic bombing doctrine <3

69. what are your favorite fics at the moment?

first of all: nice 😏

second: i feel like i've blathered enough about my own fic today that i'm gonna take this as a question about what i've been enjoying as a reader, so! some recs!

moon's low (can't say no) by @meyerlansky delicious introspective curt pov that nuances an already insanely interesting scene! love this for me! in related news, i am barking and frothing at the mouth as i wait patiently for the follow up to dancing cheek to cheek (to cheek)! tumblr user meyerlansky comin' in hot with THEE definitive curt biddick voice!

never saw the sun shining so bright by @sluttyhenley absolutely shrieking about this series! marge deserves the world! and also both of the buck(y)s! good for her.jpeg! i'm lucky enough to be getting snippets of this as m writes it, and i cannot wait for the next few installments to go live

careful fear and dead devotion by @everyangel another john/gale/marge series i'm currently losing my mind over! the marge voice is so delicious, and i love the pre-war angle that underpins the first fic! cannot wait for more!

enter night by @rhaegang monsterfuckers and barry keoghan enthusiasts rejoice! the writing is top notch, the sex is blisteringly hot, and the tension and pacing are superb. rhaegang truly never misses

nothing safe is worth the drive (follow you home) by @yoursummerfrost i never really had a buffy phase, but i came across this fic the other day and boy howdy does it have me by the throat. deeply emotional, very sexy, and written with so much love it's got me thinking about giving the series more than a cursory "well, it was on when i was home sick from school way back when" watch. also! i've devoured every buffy fic they've written since i found this one and i'm happy to report that they're all incredible!

76. how do you deal with writing pressure, whether internal or external?

mature answer: i try to take a step back and remind myself that this is a hobby i am doing for fun and for free and i should calm the fuck down about it

follow up answer: and if that doesn't work, i whine ceaselessly at my writing buddies until i'm over it

send me some fic writing asks!

[theonethatyaks93]

A Discussion on Pinky's Sexuality/Gender (Day 3 of Pinky Week)

(Quick Note: Ahhh! Sorry about the delay on this! It's just that I've had a lot on my plate and with that new Pinky and The Brain trailer thing, I've been kind of stressed out. This is mostly because I've been trying to lower my expectations as far as they will go so I won't be disappointed or I'll be blown away. I just don't know what to think. Also, burnout is real. I'm making it all up this week, I promise!)

(Another note: I didn't expect this post to be delayed so much! Oh god! Anyways, the next few days will be a makeup week where I finally finish Pinky Week and get prepared for Brain Week coming up. This was supposed to come out last Wednesday, but I had absolutely no time! Also, I had to do a LOT of re-watching clips and research for this! Way more than I had thought. Sorry!!!)

Hi everyone and welcome to the third day of Pinky Week! For those who are just joining me, here's the gist of what's going on. Since there's going to be a new set of Pinky and The Brain shorts on Friday and Pinky's narfday was last Saturday, I decided to dedicate an entire week to talking about Pinky. Every day, I'll be making a new post about a different aspect of him, discussing things such as his character. I've already made a happy birthday and a more personal story about Pinky so go check those out. Ok, so let's begin today's discussion.

3/22/23 Discussing Pinky's Sexuality/Gender- Listen, most of this will just serve as possible headcanons/theories on events. I personally think that Pinky is pansexual and genderfluid; obviously not everyone will agree with me. This post is just a celebration on the things that I have noticed during the course of the reboot and spin-off series. I'll be tracing his evolution from loyal assistant to best friend to possible love interest for Brain. I will also be talking about how his gender identity transitioned from an interesting little joke to a realistic and admirable portrayal of a character who's not afraid to be himself. I am trying to cover as much ground as possible so let's give it a shot.

Pinky's Sexuality: Pansexual

What Does Being Pansexual Mean?: Pansexual can be defined as a romantic attraction to male, female, and nonbinary people; so basically, you like everyone. While seemingly not as common as being gay or bisexual, pansexual characters have been getting the respect and love they deserve.

Why Does Pinky Embody Pansexuality?: Pinky being pansexual has been tossed around as a kind of fan theory for a few years. Some people think that he's bisexual (like Brain) and some think he's just straight up gay (read below section for further information). However, I fall under the group that says he's pansexual because it fits his character the best. Pinky is the kind of mouse who would love just about everyone, no matter their gender or species. His kindness for anyone knows no bounds and though his heart gets constantly broken, he always gets back up again. Pinky is always determined to support Brain in everything he does, no matter how upset his friend makes him. His unbridled affection for Brain is honestly a pretty big giveaway to Pinky not being straight in the slightest.

Could Pinky be Just Gay?: This really depends on the person you ask. If you were a new fan of the series, only starting to watch during season 3 of the reboot, then yeah. Pinky is basically gay in those final ten episodes with him never mentioning a female love interest for the first time (I think) ever. It's insane. Also, he hints at his attraction to Brain in several ways such as dressing up alongside him in feminine clothing (he didn't have to do that) and even holding his hand tightly (much to Brain's surprise). He also does that little hand gesture at least five or six times and showcases his more extravagant personality. So, my conclusion is that if you were to only watch season 3 of the reboot then Pinky is nearly 100% gay. However, when you watch the rest of the franchise, this changes his sexuality to pansexual since he has a few female attractions earlier on.

Setting Things Up (Animaniacs 1993): Below is the first time Pinky gives Brain a compliment. It's from their debut episode "Win Big."

The first "gay stare" from the entire franchise in the episode "Where Rodents Dare."

Although we don't get too many Brinky moments from the earliest era of the mice's existence, we do get to see that even from the beginning, Pinky really cared for Brain in many ways. He gives his friend compliments, admires his work, and even tries his best to follow his plans, (though Pinky can get distracted easily). In "Win Big" Pinky gives a seemingly content reaction when Brain pulls him by the tail. "Where Rodents Dare" gives us the first official gay stare in the series, done by Pinky after Brain talks to him about the plan. Pinky is often seen acting in a very positive way around Brain, no matter what his friend says. While this was the point in the series where the two's relationship could only be seen as a partnership/acquaintanceship, Pinky still seems to call Brain his friends without hassle. Brain seems more reserved here and is often more brash when it comes to Pinky and his behavior.

Pinky Gets Flirty (Pinky and The Brain): Below is a screenshot from the infamous "colleague" line from episode "That Smarts"

Pinky doesn't know what to say to Brain on their "dinner date" in segment "Brain's Night Off."

This well-known frame from segment "Beach Blanket Brain" (which coincidently is paired with the previously mentioned segment).

A flirtatious line from "Brain Noir."

Pinky consoles a distraught Brain in episode "You'll Never Eat Food Pellets in This Town Again."

Pinky playing around with Brain from "Pinky's Plan."

Pinky in his adorable sweater from "Megalomaniacs Anonymous."

Pinky trying to save Brain from an avalanche in (one of my favorite episodes) "This Old Mouse."

Things began to escalate quickly after the mice got their own spin-off show. Pinky's more flirty tendencies and his relationship with Brain began to grow stronger and stronger. He showcases his feelings more often here as well. For example: when Brain calls Pinky his colleague, Pinky gets all giddy and he swoons a little. When Brain compliments Pinky after his mindless TV watching proves beneficial to the plan, Pinky tells Brain to stop it as Brain's making him feel all gooshy. This moment is complete with Pinky looking flustered and there's even a music swell to compliment the entire ordeal. Pinky is shown on multiple occasions to take great pleasure in flirting or teasing Brain, giggling often. His loyalty to his friend is also shown in excess. When Pinky sees that Brain is going to perish after an avalanche in episode "This Old Mouse", he goes all the way up north to find him. Pinky does manage to save Brain, not only proving his dedication to his companion, but convincing Brain that the future can in fact be changed. Pinky even says things like "I can't lose you again" and when Brain tries to get him to leave for his own safety, Pinky repeatedly denies doing so, wanting to save Brain. It's incredibly heart-warming. In episode "Broadway Malady" Pinky sings a song after he and Brain split-apart about how much he misses him (and Brain hears the entire song and begins crying!). Pinky even gets the entire world's supply of important musical critics to watch Brain's show, much to Brain's surprise. Pinky's dedication to Brain is admirable, and the bond the two share is precious in every single way. Pinky is always there to comfort Brain in his darkest hours. He also gives meaningful gifts to his best friend including the globe keychain from the Christmas episode. Even when Snowball tries to convince Pinky to join him, he remains loyal. Despite the many flaws in their relationship, Pinky truly believes that Brain is the most important mouse in his life and he would do anything for him.

Secret Intentions (Pinky, Elmyra, and The Brain): Below is a picture of Pinky staring at Brain from "The Girl with Nothing Extra."

Pinky imagining him and Brain as a married couple! This is from my favorite PEaTB episode "Pinky's Dream House."

Despite being poorly received by fans, Pinky, Elmyra, and The Brain gave us a few new, very obvious signs of Pinky's possible attraction to Brain. Though he has a gained a massive sassitiude, he still maintains most of his core character traits from the spin-off. The most obvious case of a romantic hint was in the segment "Pinky's Dream House." This gives us an extensive view at Pinky's desires, which include being a housewife to Brain and living a perfect life. He even goes on to sing a song about his dream (the song is really good and well written). This is one of the most ambiguously gay moments in the entire franchise; it's actually stunning that they managed to sneak this past network censors. Pinky wants this to happen, and it isn't a version of him that is female. It's just Pinky wanting to be a housewife to Brain in one of the sweetest segments from this mixed bag of a show. Pinky's wish does come true and he does get to live with Brain for a while, but it doesn't last. It's a darn shame too because it seemed like Brain was starting to enjoy this lifestyle as well. Aside from this, there are a few cute gay stares and a compliment or two on occasion. It's really admirable how Pinky's dream of being a housewife was taken very seriously, and that he still cares for Brain's needs no matter what.

A Troubling Conflict (the Brinky vs. Pinky x Phar Fignewton feud): Below is a picture of Pinky and Phar Fignewton (you get the idea of Brinky by this point).

Yeah, this was a thing. Back before the reboot was made and nearly everyone became a Brinky shipper, there was a small conflict within the fandom between two well-regarded ships. Brinky fans were just starting to migrate their way onto various internet platforms and the ship was gaining steam. However, there were a few people who stuck with the canon ship of Pinky x Phar Fignewton instead. Their reasoning was that the two were essentially "soulmates" with their designs being similar and their interactions all the more precious. For those who aren't aware, Phar Fignewton is a character that was introduced in the segment "Jockey for Position." She'd later appear as only a cameo in Pinky and The Brain segments "The Third Mouse" and "A Meticulous Analysis of History." She made her return in the movie Wakko's Wish, where she had a more extensive role as Pinky's love interest (or so we think). After this movie, she never appeared alongside the mice again, fading into the realm of obscure Animaniacs characters. A lot of people really liked this ship though and fanart made its way onto sites like DeviantArt. However, Pinky x Phar Fignewton fans would often denounce Brinky for interfering with their ship and Brinky fans would do the same to them. It was a giant mess. Unfortunately for the fans of the horse-mouse couple, their ship was laid to rest in non-canon during 2020 when the Animaniacs reboot came out, as she only appeared in a brief cameo. Pinky was now more focused on Brain and Brinky shippers rejoiced as the mice came close to being canon. Though many of us out there do ship Brinky, it's important to remember our fallen alternate ship and the cuteness it brought us. Brinky did win in the end, taking a lot of Pinky x Phar Fignewton shippers away from their previous ship and into a larger group of the fandom.

Put to the Side: (Reboot Season 1): Below is Pinky staring at Brain yet again from "Ex-Mousina" (I wanted to put the cute moment from "Future Brain" here but I think it's more suited to Brain rather than Pinky).

This adorable exchange from episode "Babysitter's Flub."

Here we are, the Animanics reboot. This is where Pinky's sexuality stops being questioned and instead becomes somewhat confirmed. Much to the delight of many people, Pinky's interactions with Brain become a lot less platonic as the series goes along; there are also less straight routes to fall down as well. However, things didn't kick into shape until later seasons. Cute Pinky and Brain moments were put to the side in exchange for focusing on re-introducing the mice to a modern audience in season one. There wasn't a complete non-existence as we got a few adorable stares and even a near-kiss (wait until we get to Brain Week to hear about that one!). The mice did have their fair share of gay scenes such as the X and O confusion bit from "Babysitter's Flub" and the ending of "Future Brain" where Pinky saves Brain from falling into a portal. Pinky's loyalty to Brain is stronger than ever, with Brain being the one that has to go through the test in his relationship with Pinky. Sure Pinky feels a twinge of jealousy when Brain essentially abandons him for a robot, but that ends up in complete disaster. While this season did a great job of re-establishing their relationship, Pinky's presence as a character had to be sacrificed. He barely has any major roles in these first segments, almost seeming like a side or background character at times. He still proves to have a close bond with Brain, always listening to his feelings and offering comfort. Luckily, better things were on the horizon.

New Developments: (Reboot Season 2): Below is a picture of an underrated embrace from "Narf Over Troubled Water."

An extremely popular moment from "Happy Narfday."

Pinky caught gay staring YET AGAIN in "Wakkiver Twist." (It never ends!)

Hand holding from episode "Narf Over Troubled Water." (This episode just has too many moments to count!)

This season managed to blow everyone's expectations out of the water. Not only did we get more undeniable moments of Pinky showcasing his possible feelings for Brain, but Brain seemed to recuperate those affections. Pinky was more used here, him having at least four times as many gay moments as he did in the previous season. He often lovingly gazes at Brain, gives him tight embraces, holds his hand, and even mentions attending a traffic light party and wearing yellow, seemingly implying that he doesn't entirely know what their is relationship at this point. The number of moments in season 2 that made people scream in delight are nearly impossible to count. Here are a few notable ones. In "Backwards Pinky", Pinky often makes vaguely flirtatious comments about Brain, to which Brain responds in annoyance. In "The Flawed Couple", Pinky is seen in the first pilot playing a housewife to Brain in a similar situation to "Pinky's Dream House." Pinky's loyalty to Brain comes full circle in "Run Pinky Run" where he would do anything to save his best friend. "Happy Narfday" probably has some of the most obvious interactions including Pinky calling Brain "darling", Pinky moving Brain around and holding his hand, and even an adorable hug at the segment's end. Pinky compliments Brain and makes pleasant statements to him in "Plight of Hand" and "Mouse Madness"; in the former, he even fights against his own hands in order to save Brain. "Narf Over Troubled Water" was probably the most famous episode when it came to Brinky moments. There was just so much to comprehend at once; it's extremely difficult to try and mark down it all. Pinky comforting Brain after he starts doubting himself, Pinky coming back for Brain after their split-up, and that ENTIRE ending sequence were the most noticeable. These moments were impactful to Pinky's character as they showed his displays of affection and kindness and that their co-dependent relationship was not only important but entirely necessary to the franchise.

Pinky's Sexuality Confirmed? (Reboot Season 3): Below is a picture of Pinky posing in a seductive manner while Brain watches in annoyance. From the segment "How The Brain Thieved Christmas."

A clip of Pinky kissing Brain from "Groundmouse Day!"

A picture of a picture of Pinky kissing Brain from "How to: Friendship."

Pinky holds Brain by the shoulders in an attempt to steady him. From "How The Brain Thieved Christmas."

Pinky after Brain mentions the current situation being "too romantic." He heavily implies that he thinks that he and Brain are also in a romantic situation. I'm not kidding! From segment "Royal Flush."

Pinky is so proud of Brain for taking over the world. From episode "Groundmouse Day."

Pinky touches Brain's image on the screen in an precious manner! From "How to: Friendship."

Pinky holds Brain's hand tightly after destroying AI Julia (the entire moment will be shown when we get to Brain Week!). From episode "All's Fair in Love and Door."

Season three had easily the most on-the-nose segments when it came to hints at Brinky. This is also the season that confirmed to a lot of people that Pinky was not straight. In fact, if you were only to watch this season and nothing else, Pinky could be considered gay. Not only does he never mention a female love interest but he seems to have taken his flirty and more romantic tendencies with Brain to another level. There is an intimate interaction between the mice in every single episode, whether it be settle or extremely suggestive and obvious. Pinky in particular starts to showcase his feelings in a more outrageous way. These moments are just precious. In the first few segments, Pinky is seen doing various things, including staring at Brain, rubbing his head when he gets stressed, touching Brain's image on a screen, envisioning Brain in the stars, making an adorable macaroni photo of him kissing Brain, implying that he thinks that he and Brain are having a romantic moment, relying on Brain to calm him down in a car, and resting his head on Brain's head. The second half of the season showcases Brain seemingly responding to these actions in a not so settle manner (at least from an audience perspective). From Pinky kissing Brain goodnight in one of the most hyped-up moments from the entire reboot to Pinky getting somewhat jealous and hurt when he sees that Brain was married to Julia in an alternate world, these precious scenes come in abundance. The final four episodes contain more development for Brain than Pinky, but they're still noteworthy. In "All's Fair in Love and Door", Pinky looks very surprised when Brain sacrifices himself to save Pinky from AI Julia. After Pinky saves Brain in the end, he even holds Brain's hand tightly, much to the latter's surprise. "How The Brain Thieves Christmas" was more of an exploration of Brain than Pinky, but the taller mouse has some fun moments. He poses "seductively" in front of Brain when modeling for the toy. Pinky gives Brain a meaningful gift: the thing he needed to take over the world. Pinky even says "love you!" to Brain in a blink-and-you'll-miss-it moment in the second part. The ending was also quite sweet with Pinky making a ton of gay stares and starting lots of embraces with Brain. In "International Mouse of Mystery", the whole song shows Pinky dropping essentially compliments towards his friend. Pinky also seemingly wants Brain to kiss him at one point, only for Brain to throw him away. Pinky is almost definitely at least some form of LGBTQ+ at this point, due to his relationship with Brain being very strong. Seeing these kinds of interactions between best friends, male best friends nonetheless, is interesting and unique. It makes their friendship/possible romantic relationship all the more special and this is why they have an extensive fanbase of people who really care for them.

Pinky is a Genderfluid Icon (An Overview from "Noah's Lark" to "International Mouse of Mystery"): Below is the very first time we see Pinky in a dress from segment "Noah's Lark" from the original Animaniacs.

Pinky in a dress inspired by the movie Gone With the Wind in episode "Brainie the Poo"

A collection of Pinky's many outfits from the Animaniacs reboot. These are from episodes "Mouse Congeniality", "Royal Flush", and "International Mouse of Mystery."

Pinky is honestly one of the most influential and important characters when it comes to gender identity and just being yourself, at least in the modern media. The running "joke" of him wearing dresses went from being a little gag in various episodes to being an actual part of his personality, revealing that it is something he enjoys quite a lot. And no one every belittles him for his decisions, especially Brain, who only gets annoyed with Pinky's actions rather than his appearance. In fact during some segments, Brain seems to have a reaction to Pinky's looks, especially in "Mouse Congeniality." While many characters characters have cross-dressed in old cartoon such as Bugs Bunny and Daffy Duck, they were usually to evade the capture of a foe. Pinky does this in a lot of plans, sometimes because he wants to, other times because it's necessary for the plan to work. He didn't have to dress up in "Royal Flush", but he chose to do so. That's amazing. He also doesn't dislike being referred to by she/her pronouns. At first, things didn't start out so revolutionary. Pinky's first time in a dress was in the Animaniacs segment "Noah's Lark." Rather than looking sophisticated, he looks like he's only wearing this as a disguise to go along with Brain's plan to sneak onto the ark. It's portrayed in a silly way, as if Pinky was forced to do this. He does this again in episode "Meet John Brain" when he tries to play the role of Brain's first lady. When the spin-off series was introduced, Pinky's feminine side was exposed in a more natural, less comical way. The dresses he wore were more elaborate, more colorful, and cuter. He'd be seen playing with lipstick in episode "Of Mouse and Man", showing that this was something he did for fun. After that, he can often be seen in dresses during various parody episodes, often playing the female character. He also posed as a female in episode "My Feldmans My Friends" alongside Brain as his spouse. However, in the song "The Really Great Dictator", Pinky is seen in a pink dress in what has become one of his most beloved appearances in dress. Not only does he not wear any makeup or wig for the very first time, but in the context of the song, Pinky didn't have to wear a dress at all. It was his personal decision, rather than one made by force. Despite wearing a ton of dresses, Pinky could rock the masculine wardrobe as well, being seen in suits, tuxedoes, sweaters, and swim trunks throughout the series. In Pinky, Elmyra, and The Brain, Pinky would add more outfits and looks to his collection including he (and Brain!) wearing lipstick and earrings, a Hansen inspired getup, and of course, the well-known headscarf and apron from "Pinky's Dream House" which was discussed earlier. Pinky in dresses would become a popular part of the fandom; however no one was prepared for the glory that would be given in the reboot, around 22 years after Pinky was last seen in feminine clothing.

The reboot would give us incredible moments when it came to Pinky as a character. He could finally be himself and showcase all his marvelous beauty. The first instance of Pinky in an outfit was in season 2 episode "The Flawed Couple" where Pinky is seen in typical housewife attire for a parody of the show The Honeymooners. His most iconic, popular, and recognizable dress was in the episode "Mouse Congeniality" where Pinky joins in a beauty pageant to help Brain in a plan for world domination. Pinky outfit here goes all out, even to the point where Brain is impressed with his work. Pinky is seen here in a blonde wig, has purple eye shadow, long eyelashes, lipstick, a pink dress with sash, long pink gloves, and high-heeled shoes. This is perhaps his most elaborate outfit to date, with him sporting a completely new and impressive appearance. He is also seen in a few alternate costumes including a bikini (finally!) and a baby costume (I don't know you guys). Pinky even manages to win the pageant, albeit not by vote. Him winning the pageant is a very heartfelt and genuinely happy moment. Pinky stating that he wanted to be the most beautiful human woman on the planet was so precious and sweet. It also offers a great look at Pinky, showing that cross-dressing is something he genuinely enjoys and wishes to do. Even though he doesn't wear another dress throughout the rest of the season, Pinky will sometimes randomly have eyelashes or act in a feminine manner. It's so adorable. In season 3, Pinky continues to push and break boundaries, blessing us with two new looks, though they are similar to his previous outfit in "Mouse Congeniality." In "Royal Flush", Pinky is wearing a red version of his previous dress along with purple long gloves, high heels, and another blonde wig. In a few scenes towards the beginning, Pinky has eyelashes. However as the segment continued along, those disappeared permanently, leaving him again without any makeup. He still looks incredible though. It's quite intriguing to see Pinky without makeup in a dress because that hasn't been seen since the 90's. His final outfit comes from the segment "International Mouse of Mystery", which has also gotten some attention after a frame from this cold-opening was leaked in early February 2023. This outfit contains elements of the previous two looks with Pinky wearing a red dress, though it's a darker shade, having dark purple eyeshadow, eyelashes, lipstick, high heels, and a red wig. It's really cute how he tries to play the Bond girl seen in a lot of spy films and he looks really good. Throughout, the entire song portion (Pinky has an angelic voice), Pinky is seen in his getup with Brain even "saving" him at one point. It's super cool that even though three different studious animated these episodes (Digital eMation, Titmouse, Saerom), the dresses and design remained consistent. Though it would've been nice to see Pinky get more dresses to wear, the ones he got proved to be good enough to leave an impact on the community. Every time Pinky is seen in a dress, he's treated with an enormous amount of respect and is showered with praise from all angles. He is a genderfluid icon, and can be inspiring to people in the ways he expresses himself in such a natural way. Even if this show is forgotten, there remains some hope that Pinky will be remembered as an important figure in the realm of gender identity and positivity.

Conclusion: Overall, Pinky exemplifies true greatness when it comes to representation in the LGBTQ+ community. Even though things started off in a nuanced manner, things began to become more obvious as the series went along. Pinky began to showcase his feminine side, wearing dresses and makeup for enjoyment. His apparent attraction to Brain becomes more exaggerated in the reboot. It's so wonderful to see this kind of character in our ever-changing world. Even though most of this involves things that haven't been outright confirmed, it's still important to look though all this change and growth. There are a lot of individuals out there who could and do latch onto Pinky, including myself. While he may seem like a surface-level mouse at first, if you take a deeper look, you may find that he's not as simple as he appears. I hope you took something from this, whether it be some random person on Tumblr charting Pinky's relationship with Brain and with his character growth, or a bit of information you never knew. I look forward to continuing Pinky Week in high spirits. I'll be focusing on specific moments of character development in the next three installments, so be prepared. Anyways, have a great day and/or night and I'll see you next time! Narf!

[toujokaname]

Card shuffle / Episode 7

Author: Akira

Characters: Niki, Tatsumi, HiMERU, Kohaku, Aira, Rinne, Hiiro, AkanP, Mayoi

"...I've been in your care for a long time, after all."

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[ Read on my site for a better viewing experience using Ois~su ♪ ]

Season: Winter

Location: MDM Stage

???: I-I'm so sorry! I'm late!

Niki: W-Woah, what's this?!

Tatsumi: Oh? Who might that person in the suit be, hurrying toward us...?

Are you familiar? Maybe it's a new Crazy:B member?

HiMERU: —You must severely lack interest in us, Tatsumi. Crazy:B is not recruiting newcomers.

Kohaku: Koh koh koh ♪ Who'd wanna join a buncha scumbags like us?

Aira: Well, yeah, Rinne-senpai may be a jerk, but at least the rest of Crazy:B are good people, right?

Kohaku: That's just like you to say, Rabu-han. That is, how's it any different from not understandin' us at all?

Rinne: ......

Hiiro: ...? What's the matter, Nii-san? You're making a bitter face. Did you eat something strange again?

Rinne: Don't talk about me like I'm a habitual food scavenger. I ain't Niki.

Niki: How come I'm always catching strays~?!

Rinne: Anyway! You lot, quit yapping and greet properly.

This person is AkanP, the producer in charge of this project, Matrix.

AkanP: Ah, yes! I'm sorry for not showing up sooner! I've been a bit busy with personal matters...!

Hiiro: Fumu. Come to think of it, I recall seeing that name in the project proposal.

Aira: Hiro-kun's got such a good memory... There were so many names of people, I couldn't keep track of all the details.

Mayoi: I think it can't be helped... The project proposal was filled with minuscule, needlessly intricate text, making it rather challenging to decipher.

And even after reading it all desperately, I still couldn't understand what exactly they were trying to say.

HiMERU: A prime example of a bad project proposal...

(Whispering) ...Hm, so this is the rumored LandmineP.

Kohaku: Ha-haah. So it's Akan-han for bein' an akan (useless) person.

Rinne: Oi, oi, don't start making fun of names, or you might make some HiMERU-kun cry ♪

HiMERU: HiMERU takes pride in the name HiMERU, though?

AkanP: ......

Kohaku: Ah, sorry. It's just, we've caught wind of a lotta weird rumors.

AkanP: It's fine~... I know I've been called a lot of things. Haha, so I'm AkanP because I'm useless.

Kohaku: S-So you do hear folks talkin' smack about you! You never even tried to acknowledge our attempts to reach out!

HiMERU: At this point, your human failure index is quite high. This index measures how useless you are as a human being, with Amag... With Rinne as the benchmark at 100.

HiMERU: By the way, Shiina scores around 85.

Niki: It's higher than I thought it'd be?!

Kohaku: And me? And me?

HiMERU: Oukawa is not a failure as a human being. Right, HiMERU would say about 4 or 5.

Niki: What's with that unfair index that's mostly determined by HiMERU-kun's subjective opinion?!

Rinne: Heh... Only a 5 on the failure index? Garbage.

Kohaku: Ahh? Where do ya get off tellin' me this or that when you're settin' the bar for what a failure should be?

AkanP: Ahaha. You seem to get along better than I expected, that's a relief.

Rinne-kun, you never gave off the impression of being very good at socializing with others.

HiMERU: ? Are you two acquainted?

Rinne: ...I've been exchanging messages with Akan-san regarding this project. That's all.

HiMERU: ? As Oukawa mentioned earlier, we were unable to establish any contact over here...?

Tatsumi: That goes for us as well.

Thanks to that, while we've heard about this Matrix competition, we don't even know what kind of match it'll be.

AkanP: Eh? Rinne-kun, you said you'd inform everyone properly—

Rinne: Aah! Yup, don't sweat it, just leave it to me! I won't do anything to embarrass Akan-san, for real, real ♪

Rinne: ...I've been in your care for a long time, after all.

Aira: ...?

[ ☆ ]

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[agentmaxa]

Embryo - Kat Barrell Imagine

A/n: Just a short thing on Kat's little mishap during the 2019 ClexaCon.

This is a Intersex!Reader, I think. Also Non-Binary!R.

This is the vid, time stamp is around 31:00 but watching the whole thing is recommended.

Sorry for any mistakes, please enjoy.

The host of the panel brought on a new topic for Dom, Kat, Y/n, and Emily to answer.

A question that provoked them to inform everyone about future projects.

Dom talking about Seasons of Love and the trip to Brazil.

And then the spotlight went to Kat, who mentioned being at the beginning of projects. Y/n was smiling and nodding, knowing their fiancée has put a lot of work into film-making recently.

"And, well, if you'd call it a project we're planning a wedding." The crowd cheered as Y/n kissed Kat briefly on her temple.

"I think we're almost done with that one anyway." The fans got louder as Y/n unintentionally hinted that it would be happening soon.

Kat continued, "Actually, yeah. We have a lot of stuff already decided and just waiting for the right time to set in motion when everyone's life is a little less hectic."

Y/n nodded along, hearing the crowd cheer again when a fan in the crowd caught Y/n's attention.

It was a sign being held up and Y/n was leaning forward to read it when Kat was talking about going back to school.

"...and so those are the two things and then one more like little thing-y. It's an embryo right now-"

Y/n snapped back in the chair. Looking right at Kat before realizing the chair wasn't ready for such momentum.

"So it's coming-" Just as a fan let out a shout to make Kat realize it was taken the wrong way.

The next thing everyone knew was a vaguely heard, "Oh no." before Y/n went back and went to the ground along with the chair.

"No, not that!" Kat tried to settle people down before looking next to her to see Y/n with a horrified expression.

The crowd was in disarray as Kat panicked to see if Y/n was okay.

"I'm so sorry, bubs."

"Kat Barrell, you almost gave me a heart attack!"

Y/n was trying to laugh it off, getting up with the help of Kat. Dom putting Y/n's chair upright.

Everyone got themselves situated as Kat tried to mend her mistake a little more, most of the attention was on Y/n who was still seemingly shaken by everything.

"Not a baby. I am not pregnant. Let's be clear."

Instead of sitting back in the chair, Y/n got behind Kat and hugged her while she sat down and addressed the crowd and everyone.

Everyone was having a good laugh at the situation, Kat going on to clarify she meant her first feature as a director and nothing else.

Y/n quietly moved back to their seat, Kat turning and asking, "Y/n, you okay?"

Just nodding, Y/n said, "It's alright, my life flashed before my eyes but it's fine."

Kat apologizes further by kissing Y/n's hand and holding it.

The crowd laughed again, Y/n knowing they took it as a meaningless joke.

"No really you guys. I don't think you know how real of a possibility this is."

Y/n let out a tense chuckle, being careful not to do it in the mic but then realizing what was being hinted at.

The host put out an inquiry, "And how real is that if you don't mind me asking?"

Hesitant to reveal this, Y/n never wanted to shout it to the rooftops afraid of their employability being affected more than anything.

"Well not a lot of people know but I was born intersex and for those that don't know it being born with a mix of female and male anatomy. So yes, me getting someone pregnant is a possibility."

Y/n felt Kat's hand squeeze tighter around theirs, Kat knowing Y/n never planned to go public with this.

The crowd just cheered, all for different reasons but it made Y/n a little bit more comfortable.

"Out of all the ways I excepted this panel to go, this was not one of them."

Laughter ensued and they went on to finish the panel, Y/n and Kat dotting on each other for a while before they had to leave.