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afterdarkprincess · 11 months ago

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The Devil's In The Details (But You Got a Friend in Me)- Part 5

Pairing: Sami/Jey Rating: Explicit Chapter Summary: Jey returns in time for the Draft and his and Jimmy's rematch against the Brawling Brutes.

Took me ages, but I've got an update for this one :)

Thank you a million times to @elementaldoughnut12 for the prompt that turned into this fic <3

tags for @feelschicken @imabillyami @southerngirl41 @jeysbvck and @harmshake (if anyone else would like to be tagged in my fics please let me know!

This fic is explicit and this part contains: Masturbation, Phone Sex and canon typical violence.

AO3 Link

Part One Part Two

Part Three Part Four

Jey enters the arena the next day in a foul mood. The Draft was announced and scheduled while he was away for the same night as their rematch with the Brawling Brutes, and it feels like just another way for Roman to manipulate him and his family.

Roman has the influence to keep them all on Smackdown together, but he also has the influence to separate him and his brother. And after the displeasures the Tribal Chief expressed, Jey is full of anxiety for himself and his brother’s futures if they don’t get the tag team titles back.

He’s gotten a string of messages from Sami since he departed from his hotel for the American Bank Center, but it hasn’t done much to assuage his anxieties or lift his spirits. It’s not even been a full day and he’d give anything to see Sami’s smile in person again, and part of him is terrified of how these feelings have taken over his entire life.

Jey checks in and receives the directions to their private locker room, already unnerved that the instructions hadn’t been sent to him in advance by Paul, but he could chalk that up to having been on vacation. He passes several others on the roster, but keeps to himself for the most part, only nodding and giving a small wave to Xavier and Kofi.

He enters the locker room to find Jimmy there alone. They certainly aren’t as inseparable now as adults as they’d been as children, but something in Jey just feels right at the sight of his twin, especially having been apart for a week.

“Ey, Uce, what’s up?” Jey cuts him off, enveloping Jimmy into a bear hug, holding onto him tightly and not letting go for a while. “Damn dude, you good?” Jimmy chuckles, trying to lighten the mood.

Jey nods, trying to play it cool. “Yeah, uh, just missed ya Uce, that’s all.”

Jimmy grins, “Makes sense, don’ know how you was gon’ have fun on that vacation without me, huh? Even wit’ seein’ Sami.” Jey feels a pang in his chest at the mention of the man he loves. “How’s he doin’ anyway?”

“Uh, he’s good. Just doin’ PT and stuff, you know?” Jey wants to tell his brother about their week and all the things they did together, though maybe not everything. He’s not used to hiding things from Jimmy, not big things like this.

Jimmy meanwhile is shoving a protein bar into his mouth. “Mmhmm,” He garbles. “I bet. Fuckin’ hated that when my knee was busted. Shit hurts and then they got you on the treadmill like that? No thanks.”

“Yeah,” Jey tries to change the subject, just to keep himself from spilling the beans. He’s not ready to do this tonight. “What’d I miss?”

“Well this draft for one, ‘cause we ain’t been through enough right now.”

“No shit,” Jey agrees.

“Big Uce still pissed at us I think, at least I ain’t heard word from him since you left and that ain’t usually good news.”

“And Solo?”

Jimmy shrugs, “I dunno, Uce. He been ‘bout the same, quiet n’ stuff.” He cracks open a bottle of water. “Can’t figure him out.”

“Where he at tonight?”

“Beats me,” Jimmy shakes his head. “Wiseman took him off somewhere, man. Tryin’ not to think about that, keep our eyes on the prize for this rematch tonight.”

Jey sees red just thinking about the Brutes. “We gon’ get those titles back, dawg. And once we do m’gonna bury that fucker Holland.” His hands shake as they curl into fists.

As usual Jimmy misses nothing, “Ey, calm down bruh. We gon’ take care of ‘em like you said. No worries.”

The conversation lulls and it’s quiet for the moment, Jey staring down at the floor.

“What you think Big Uce gon’ do if we don’t win?”

Jimmy stands, clapping a hand onto Jey’s shoulder reassuringly. “Can’t be thinking like that, Jey. We ain’t gotta worry about that cause we gon’ whoop those guys no problem. We gon’ have the titles back and everythin’ gon’ be how it was before.”

Jey hears Sami’s words in his head, that even if things go back to how they were it still isn’t a good place for them, that Roman won’t be happy no matter how many accolades the Bloodline has.

He’s not ready for that conversation with his twin either, not with this amount of pressure on them to deliver tonight. He nods slowly, “You right,”

“Course I’m right, Uce! Now let’s go watch this draft with the rest of these suckers to see their faces when we get picked first!” Jimmy heads out the door with a spring in his step, and it’s doing nothing for the dread sitting heavy in Jey’s stomach.

He gets an alert on his phone, another text from Sami.

Hope everything’s going well<3 I’ll be watching, got a pizza coming for the occasion lol 6:45pm

Jey laughs in spite of himself.

Bet it ain’t as good as good as my food tho 6:46pm

Course not- gotta save those frozen meals and ration them lol 6:48pm

Can’t have you wasting away, baby 6:49pm

He hesitates for a moment staring at the screen before he hits the emoji button and sends a solitary red heart. It shouldn’t send his heart rate up just sending one little text message, but it feels like a big step.

Jey goes to throw his phone into his bag to go join Jimmy when it goes off again, the screen showing an identical heart back from Sami. Jey smiles, feeling just a little bit of the weight he’s carrying on his shoulders vanish.

He’s not in this alone anymore.

—

Most of the smackdown roster is gathered together backstage watching the live feed. Even they don’t really have the clearest picture of what the draft will look like this time, and gossip and rumors fly.

Jey finds Jimmy hanging around the back of the room pacing, they have a promo to cut after the first round of picks, so they stay closer to gorilla.

“What took you so long Uce?” Jimmy shoved a hand into his shoulder playfully.

“Aw nothin’ for you to worry ‘bout. Still no Solo?” He looked around for his youngest brother’s bleached blond curls but didn’t spot him.

Jimmy shrugged. “Nah man, Kofi and Xavier ‘round here though.” The Usos didn’t have many friends left on the roster after the last few years, but the New Day never took their on-stage antics to heart.

“Yeah saw ‘em when I got in,” Jey took a bottle of water from a nearby table. “Anything yet?”

“Nope, show’s just about to start though.”

The intro starts on the monitors, and Jey’s mind wanders back to Sami watching along at home. He’s hit with the same feeling he had at Wrestlemania, that Sami should be here alongside him. How would things have changed over the last few months if Sami had been by his side? Would he and Jimmy still have the tag belts and be in Roman’s good graces? Would Sami even still be with the bloodline?

Jey shakes his head to clear the thoughts away. It would do him no good to be distracted like this before a promo and a title match.

Triple H is on the screen, having gone through his spiel about how the evening will proceed and what this means for the company and blah blah blah. Jey’s just anxious to hear where they’re going, as there’s no doubt the Bloodline will be drafted together first, Roman would demand nothing less.

“With the first draft of the evening, Friday Night Smackdown selects…” Hunter pauses, as if it will be a surprise. “Three drafted as one! The Undisputed WWE Universal Champion Roman Reigns, the Enforcer, Solo Sikoa, and the Wiseman Paul Heyman, the Bloodine!”

Jey’s pulse roars in his ears as he processes the lack of he and his twins names being called with Roman’s. His eyes lock with Jimmy’s, wide with confusion and anger.

“What the hell man?” Jimmy huffs, as if Jey would know.

“I dunno Uce, but we gon’ find out!” Jey storms toward gorilla, fire in his eyes.  He runs headlong into Adam Pearce, hanging around backstage, his hands come up defensively. “If you boys have questions or comments about the draft picks I’m gonna need you to direct them elsewhere. Right now, you need to wait for Triple H to finish the first round and call you out there.

In Jey’s ire, he’d completely forgotten about the rest of the draft and their segment, nothing too complicated, just going out and hurling insults at their opponents, but now his mind is clouded.

There are a few more minutes of Triple H’s voice droning and echoing through the monitor feeds, calling out more picks for each brand but Jey barely listens as his mind races.

Is this another game? A punishment for me n’ Jim acting out? or for losing the belts? Is Roman gonna separate us or just kick us out the family? Maybe this ain’t a bad thing if it means we get away.

Before he knows it, he blinks at the shine of lights in his face as he finds himself in the ring, the cheers of the crowd competing with his loud heartbeat.

Jimmy looks at him, but Jey nods, letting his twin take the intro.

“Corpus Christi, the bloodline is now in yo’ city!” Jimmy projects into the microphone, and Jey knows he’s gonna need to pull it together.

Somehow he makes it through the promo, gets the words out that he needs to in a semi coherent fashion, barking insults at Butch and Ridge and Sheamus too for good measure.

They come out to try and intimidate them and it ends in a brawl, which is much easier for him to get through, using his fists to get the anger and frustration out of his body. And he gets a few good shots in on Holland, which always makes him feel better these days.

He stalks behind Jimmy as they head backstage, keeping his focus on the back of his brother’s head.

They storm through backstage, bypassing the room where everyone else is gathered, not stopping until they’re back in their own private locker room, and blissfully alone.

Solo and Paul are still nowhere to be found.

Jimmy is fuming immediately. “You wanna tell me what’s goin’ on, ‘Mister Right Hand Man’?” The title is spat at him, and Jey’s stomach sinks.

“I told you, Uce- I don’t know, I ain’t been here to know!” He starts pacing.

“Cause you keep runnin’ off to see Sami every chance you get, actin’ weird, keepin’ shit from me! You supposed to be my brother, Uce!” Jimmy shakes his head.

Fear and guilt creeps into Jey’s heart. He has been keeping things from his brother, and of course Jimmy’s picked up on that. It won’t do him any good to keep arguing with Jimmy, if he’s worked up like this who knows what will slip outta his mouth?

Jey takes a deep breath and rubs his face with his hands, trying to clear his head.

He starts, “Listen, I know thing’s been messed up lately-“

“You think?” Jimmy interjects.

“But you know I ain’t got nothin’ to do with this! Wiseman gotta know somethin’, or Solo even, since they done pulled a disappearing act.” Jey gestures towards the empty room around them.

Jimmy frowns, kicking his feet and huffs. “I know, Uce. I just don’t like how things been lately, you know?” Jey nods. “First losin’ Sami, then the belts, Roman actin’ like he’s our Daddy or somethin’ and now all this?” Jimmy drops to sit on the couch, head hung in defeat.

Jey takes a few cautious steps towards his brother, “I know, Uce, really feels like we jus’ can’t win right now.”

“It’d be better if I could trust you to have my back.” Jimmy fixes him with a look. “We got this title rematch tonight, and we should be focused on gettin’ back what’s ours so Roman can chill the hell out.”

“I got your back, Jimmy. I always do.” Jey answers, hoping that it will be enough.

His twin stares at him, unblinking, like he’s looking for his answer in Jey’s eyes. After a few long moments, he nods. “Okay,” Jimmy extends his hand, and Jey takes it and helps him to his feet. “But as soon as we get through all this, you gotta come clean about whatever it is you hidin’.”

Jey opens his mouth to deny the allegation, but he thinks better of it, and nods. “Alright, all we gotta do is put those clowns away tonight.”

“Damn right,” Jimmy claps him on the shoulder, and Jey feels like he can finally breathe again.

He looks at the clock on the wall, it’s already about halfway through the show and they gotta be ready for their match in about a half hour. “C’mon, we prolly outta get back out there.”

Jimmy nods, “You right, you know somebody gon’ be out there talkin’ shit.” He goes to head out the door but turns around. “Jey?”

“Ye?”

“You know I love you right?”

Jey feels his heart swell up in his chest. “Yeah, Uce. I love you too.”

Jimmy sticks his tongue out, making a face. “Alright now we done with that, let’s go remind these fools who runs this show.” He turns and walks out the door.

Jey spares one last glance back toward his bag, tempted to call Sami or at least check his phone, but Jimmy is already suspicious and will definitely notice his absence, so he follows suit and heads back out into the hallway to follow his twin.

—

The rest of the draft picks aren’t remarkable, mostly because they aren’t Jey and Jimmy.

They’re waiting in gorilla position for their music to hit, and as much as Jey tries to keep himself focused on the task at hand, his mind is far from settled.

He bounces on the balls of his feet, trying to feed this energy into his body, at least make it useful for the fight ahead of him, while his thoughts race.

if we lose again, that’s it. We out the family, we might be out already. Who gon’ watch out for Solo if Roman kicks us out? Wish I could talk to Sami…

The sound of spit hitting the floor stirs him from his thoughts.

Butch and Ridge stand before them, the tag belts on their shoulders and scowls on their faces.

Jey sees red, filled with rage at the sight.

He darts toward them, but is stopped by Jimmy before he can do anything stupid.

“That’s right, keep a leash on that dog.” Butch taunts.

Ridge cracks his knuckles menacingly. “Won’t have to hold it long, gonna put you down, boy.” He spits at Jey’s feet.

Jey can barely think for how angry he is, but their music starts and he has to wait before he can put his hands on Holland, has to put on a good show to stay in Roman’s good graces.

Jimmy turns to him, blocking their opponents from view. “You good, bruh?”

Jey huffs out a breath. “M’good.”

“Jus’ gotta get the belts.”  He nods, following Jimmy out onto the stage.

Jey is thankful for their reputations, that they can get away with scowling during their entrances because he can’t bring his face to do anything else at the moment.

The crowd is behind them, cheering and throwing their ones to the sky. Their love for the Honorary Uce has carried him and Jimmy through this feud even at the darkest of times, so it’s what he’ll latch onto today. He sees signs in the crowd.

“WE MISS YOU SAMI”

“FOREVER UCEY”

He feels more steady by the time they get into the ring, less likely to lose his temper at a moments notice. He stretches his arms and flexes against the ropes as Mike announces the incoming tag team champions.

Whatever good will the Brawling Brutes had carried with the crowd by their association with Sheamus is long gone. The fans boo them the whole walk down the aisle, though it doesn’t phase them much.

Butch is growling at both of them, but Ridge’s eyes are cold and fixed directly on Jey. Unmoving and unflinching.

Jey stares right back. If the man wants to make this personal, he’ll make it personal.

The bell rings signaling the start of the match. Jey waves Jimmy to the corner as Butch hops over the top rope. Ridges eyes stay locked on Jey’s as they both take slow steps forward to the center of the ring.

Neither makes a move until they’re nose to nose in the center of the ring, Jey looking up slightly to keep eye contact.

“M’gonna enjoy this,” Ridge says under his breath.

“Me too,” Jey’s eyes are blazing as he lets his hands take over and do the talking for him.

��

Jey lays in bed, staring up at the ceiling. He’s alone, which feels more like a punishment than anything else.

They lost. Again.

More specifically he ate the pin again. From Ridge.

Jey blinks hard, rubbing his hands over his tired eyes. Maybe if he just closes his eyes, the whole day will start over again.

His phone lights up with another message. He has about 20 unread texts from Sami and just as many from Jimmy.

He’s not sure who wants to avoid more.

Sami’s expressed several times that he doesn’t need Jey to fight his battles for him, but each loss against these monsters that took him out feels like letting Sami down, like failing to protect him again.

And Jimmy…

He can’t get the looks of hurt and betrayal out of his mind, after his brother had been caught in a brutal spear that he’d been aiming for Butch. The smaller man had dodged out of the way at the last moment, and it had ultimately been his twin he sent crashing to the mat.

Jimmy knew it was a mistake. Knew Jey hadn’t been aiming for him. But Jey still felt immense guilt. Especially since the error cost them the match.

The match. The belts. Their place in their family.

He knows Sami has his back, and that they have a back up plan. But his family has been Jey’s whole life, even the thought of losing it is terrifying to him.

The phone rings, vibrating loudly against the nightstand. He slowly reaches a hand over to see who it is.

He’s relieved to see Sami’s smiling face lighting up the screen. Probably the only person he’d answer right now.

“Hey Sami,” Jey sighs.

“Hi sweetheart…” Sami’s soft tones bring tears prickling to his eyes again. “I’d ask how you’re holding up, but I can imagine it pretty well.”

“Yeah,” He sniffs hard, trying to keep it together.

“So.. staying on smackdown at least?”

Jey huffs, “Yeah, ‘least OG didn’t keep us in suspense.”

At the end of the match as Jey lay in the ring in shock from the pin, Roman’s music had hit, sending a chill of fear down his spine.

But in the end, it was just Paul, squabbling about influence and draft picks, but ultimately confirming that the Usos would be going to Smackdown with the Tribal Chief after all. Roman had put him through that anxiety for seemingly no reason.

Can’t say he’s surprised. Just another mind game.

“Talk to me, Sami?” He chokes out. “Somethin’, anythin’ that’s not this.”

Sami obliges, launching into a story about some guy he sees at PT each week, as usual he’s got a talent for filling empty air. Jey isn’t paying the most attention to the details, but the sound of Sami’s voice is soothing.

“… And that’s when I said, it’s your spot now, my dawg!” Sami breaks off into laughter at his own joke, and Jey chuckles, feeling like he can at least breathe again.

When both of their laughter dies down, he says. “Thanks, Sami. Dunno what I’d do without you.”

“Of course, baby. I love you so much, we’re gonna get through this.” Sami takes a pause. “Any word from Roman?”

Jey shakes his head before remembering that Sami can’t see him. “Nah, nothin’ yet.”

Sami hums. “How’s Jimmy taking things?”

“Dunno,” He sniffs. “Ain’t talked to him since. We uh- we already had one fight earlier an’ I don’ wanna run that back.”

“I get that,” Sami says. “But I gotta think maybe you’d feel better to clear the air with him, I hate seein’ my favorite twins fight.”

It’s meant to be a joke, but after all the tension between him and Jimmy it just makes his heart hurt.

“He knows I’m hiding somethin’,” Jey’s voice is soft, like this too is a secret. “Thought maybe I had something to do with the draft, that I was in on whatever Roman was plannin’. I dunno how long I can keep this up, Sami.”

The line is quiet for a while, and when he speaks Sami’s voice is small. “I don’t wanna make things hard for you, Jey-“

“Don’t you even think that,” Jey’s feels his nerves rattle, at how quickly Sami would suggest them splitting up. “It took me way too long to get you, Sami- I ain’t givin’ you up.”

Sami’s sigh of relief is audible. “M’sorry, I shouldn’t have-“

Jey shakes his head, even though Sami can’t see him. “Nah, you just doin’ what you always do, baby. You look out for me. But I’m bein’ selfish now and I’m not letting you go.”

Say it. Say it now, he deserves to know.

“Sami, I-“ Jey pauses, his heartbeat loud in his ear.

How can I tell him I love him when I ain’t even free yet?

“Can I see you?”

Before he’s even got the words out the facetime call comes through, and Sami’s face is on his screen and it shouldn’t make him feel this relieved, to just be able to see him as he moves, adjusting himself and turning on a light in the bedroom so Jey can see him even better.

“Jey…” Sami breathes his name and Jey winces, knowing already what he’s about to say.

“S’not that bad.” His fingers find the edge of the bandage that covers the cut above his right eye. Ridge had flung him into the ring post, and he’d caught the edge on his eyebrow. It looked much scarier on TV, with blood trickling down into his eye.

On the screen Sami’s brow is furrowed, then slowly his face relaxes as the camera gets closer to his face. Finally the screen only shows the creases of Sami’s lips, puckered to kiss the screen, and Jey feels his face heat up.

Kissin’ me better an’ everything.

Sami’s face is relaxed when Jey can see all of it again, and he aches to reach out and touch him.

“Miss you, boo.” The words slip out of his mouth unbidden, but it’s true.

His laugh echoes in the quiet of the room, “It’s barely been a day since you’ve seen me.”

“So? That ain’t mean nothing.” Jey protests. “Miss them cute cheeks of yours, wanna put my teeth on ‘em”

Sami blushes beautifully, pink spreading across his newly chubby cheeks as he squirms. “Stop, you don’t mean that.”

Jey pushes himself up further, raising an eyebrow. “Oh you think I don’t? You just wait til’ after Puerto Rico, I’m gonna put in the fangs and show you just how much I wanna bite you.” He bares his teeth and chomps at the screen playfully, sending Sami into giggles. Jey feels his dick twitch in interest just at the thought of getting his mouth on his lover. “Mark you all over before I get my mouth on your dick, wanna make you feel so good, Sami.”

Sami’s blush deepens, “Will you let me fuck you again?’

He keens, suddenly aware of how empty he feels, and his dick filling in earnest now. “Yeah- yeah, Sami. Are you-?”

On the screen, Sami nods emphatically. “Thank goodness I’m already in bed. Want your hands on me, Jey.”

“I know-“ Jey bites out. “I know baby, wish I was there. Touch yourself for me.” The camera jostles between Sami’s hands and then his head is thrown back into the pillow as he groans. “Go slow, ain’t no need to rush. Tell me- please Sami, tell me how it feels.” Jey wraps one of his hands around his own cock and strokes slowly as he gets even harder.

Sami whines, “Feels so good, but it’s not the same- Ah, fuck, Jey!” The ginger’s breathing heavily, his shoulder moving on screen just enough to suggest the pace of his hand on his cock.

“Show me,” Jey blurts out. “Let me see how hard you are for me,”

The image on Jey’s phone wobbles and Sami seems to drop the phone. When it returns, the camera has switched and Jey sees the disheveled comforter around Sami’s pale thighs, the color lovely against the pink of his stretch marks. His cock stands proudly, supported by Sami’s hand with his thumb rubbing slow circles around the head.

Jey imagines his tongue making those same circles, and he really ought to be embarrassed by the desperate noise he makes at the thought, but he can”t find it in himself to care.

He’s not going to last long, overwhelmed with sensation and emotion and longing and the sound of Sami’s pleasured sighs.

“Jey— please, wanna see you too.” Sami begs, the sound high in his throat and Jey can do nothing but comply, frantically pressing his thumb on the screen to swap the camera, so Sami gets a view of his shorts pushed down and his hand working his dick. “Oh, oh Jey- so gorgeous, such a pretty cock, have I ever told you that?”

Jey huffs out a laugh but the compliment goes straight to the tight heat in his stomach as he approaches his orgasm. “Nah, don’t think you have.”

“Gorgeous, perfect, so perfect, mine, mine-“ Sami gasps and Jey’s eyes are glued to the screen as Sami’s cock shoots cum all over his awaiting fingertips.

He groans, following right behind, painting his stomach with his jizz as he falls over the edge to the sound of Sami’s breath.

Sami’s camera switches again, and he brings two cum coated fingers to his lips, licking them slowly before putting them into his mouth to clean them off.

If it was remotely possible for Jey to get hard again, he would be.

“Fuckin’ hell, Sami. Are you tryin’ to kill me?”

Sami grins after he removes the fingers from his mouth, shiny with his spit. “Never, sweetheart. How many weeks until Puerto Rico again?”

“Just over two,” Jey sighs, reaching for a tissue to clean up his own mess. “We’ll have 4 days together I think?”

“Can’t come soon enough.”

Jey feels the weight of the day and the fight settle into his bones, and knows he’s going to fall asleep sooner rather than later.

They make their long goodbyes, Jey still trying to memorize how the words “I love you” sound coming out of Sami’s mouth, how they make him feel when they’re directed at him.

When finally the screen goes black, and he’s alone again with his thoughts and a list of unread messages, Jey tosses his phone onto the side table and surrenders himself to sleep. --- I really hope I get the next part out sooner than this one! Thank you for being patient with me 🙈

#samijey #jey uso #sami zayn #wwe fanfiction #my fics

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allenthesillybillyguy · 2 years ago

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one of the 40%

Five, four, three, two, one. The loud shrill of the bell awakes me from the almost meditative state that algebra puts me in. I start shoving my books into my bag and get up leaving the class to catch the bus. Waking through the halls sliding through crowds of people, fighting my way to my locker. Reaching for the combination lock I twist right 32, left 2, right again 12, the lock clicks and opens. I grabbed my history workbook and that book I've been reading. Closing my locker and twisting the lock a few times to make sure it's locked someone comes up to me, "hurry up you're gonna miss the bus if you take this much time." It's Charlie, my friend and seatmate on the bus.

"I'm going, I'm going to just wait like 10 seconds." I impatiently say, trying to juggle my bag in my arms. Once everything is situated I walk with Charlie to the bus. he gets on first like always and i get on after him. Sitting down I pull out my phone and plug in my earbuds, hitting play on my music and checking my texts. The bus starts moving and we lurch out of the parking lot and onto the road. My stop is the first one so I chat with Charlie. He says something and I laugh . A few people in front of us are also laughing at the joke while one girl seems agitated. We turn and have our conversation facing away from them and talking quietly. "Who put bees in their bonnet?" Charlie says, causing me to laugh.

Charlie is one of my only friends I have and he makes me laugh a lot, sometimes he even makes my ribs hurt but my binder does too. A binder is something trans people like myself wear to not have dysphoria. I like mine except for the fact it hurts my ribs and back sometimes. Brakes screeching, the bus comes to a stop and I gather all my stuff standing up and walking off the bus. Once off the bus I walk as fast as I can to get home before my dad comes home. My dad isn't the best dad there is he can be nice sometimes but most of the time he yells and throws things, today will probably be like that. Unlocking the door I walk in and kick off my shoes. setting my backpack down, I headed to the kitchen.

"time for an afternoon snack" I think to myself. Searching through the cupboards grabbing some apple sauce and a spoon. I walk to my room and sit on my bed. Not knowing how long I have sat there after I've eaten my snack avoiding the math homework hidden in my backpack. The door opens and my dad barges in. I know it's my dad because of those clunky footsteps he has the kind that go thunk thunk. Hoping he doesn't barge into my room. The door opens violently and he steps in the familiar sound of his sharp knock disappearing from the moment before. For some reason he will probably yell at me about it soon enough.

"Why are you dressed like that Adelaide your a girl not some dumb boy get over yourself " his words tore through me like a knife.

"oh" I responded with tears welling up in my eyes. He huffs and walks out slamming the door angry at me I suppose or as he would say Adelaide. I hide in my room pulling out a pencil sharpener, unscrewing the blade. Maybe if I'm gone he will stop being so horrible. Taking the blade and running it across my arm the familiar sting of pain and the deep red starting to seep through the cut skin "one more" I think but one turns into two and two to 18 blood spilling from my veins onto the bedding.

Before I think about my consequences I reach for a pen and paper to jot my thoughts down and say sorry to mom and Charlie and say goodbye. My binder compressing my skin one last time. Today is my last and I'm okay with that. Blood spilling out of my arms as I start to get light headed. To light headed loosing vision finally done.

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slimeywooper · 1 year ago

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Labmas AU

Chapter 3 - The Labs: Notes

It's best to read the story first before reading these as there's likely definitely going to be spoilers.

I read this over and over looking for any mistakes. Sorry if some are still present. The lab floors are numbered as if they were the negative numbers on a scale. So the lower you go in the lab, the higher the number. As an example: First floor, go down to reach the second floor, then go down again to reach the third floor. As opposed to starting on the first floor, going up to the second, then going up again to reach the third, which is how the rest of the Plasma headquarters is set up.

In the second paragraph, Colress was initially a little more on the nose about doubting Reader's intelligence, so I scaled it back a bit. I want his jabs to be a little more subtle, but still evident to Reader.

With the doors in the lab, a key card is required to enter most of the rooms. I made it so their name badges work as the key cards. So one side has their information and the other is the barcode to scan. Colress can use his key card to open up the doors or lockers, but, he can also use his tablet.

With the lockers, Reader comments there are 24. So I thought four rows with six lockers each row. Two rows on the right and two rows on the left as opposed to all in a line. Each row of six lockers has only one scanner. Reader's locker is "D-5," so if they went to the "C" cluster of lockers and scanned their badge, nothing would happen, as they don't have authorization to open anyone else's locker. Conversely, if Reader used the "D" scanner, only their locker would open, not the whole row, as only their locker is programed to open by their key card.

Yes, it is an amazing guess on Colress' part on what size Reader wears! Perhaps he is psychic? Or the much more likely scenario, he's a control freak, and took a look through their stuff as the Plasma grunts brought it from their home.

I'm not sure if I explained this correctly, but Plasma grunts are allowed on the first floor lab with supervision. They don't have their own key cards to get through the doors, however. So someone would have to open the door and escort them to their destination. The grunts at the front desk check to make sure that the person entering the lab is the same person that owns the key card being used. The grunt in the story didn't bother checking Colress' key card because it's Colress and everyone knows not to bother him, even if it's considered protocol to check everyone.

Reader gets their first meeting with Nobori on the second floor. They don't know yet why, but they feel something is off with him. Colress was not expecting to run into him, so he's temporarily put on edge. He was hoping to introduce Nobori in a more controlled setting. And Nobori also lets slip that Colress is "Dr. Colress." Reader feels bad for potentially offending Colress, even though he's the one that introduced himself without a title.

Right after Nobori, we get our first allusions to another hybrid. Of course, Reader doesn't yet know they are hybrids, just that this one in particular was an experiment. Now, Colress was never intending Reader to meet Kudari, or even know he's alive, but the Skitty is out of the bag now.

Having the hatches and crawling spaces for Kudari to go room to room, or even between the different lab floors, was, in hindsight, extremely optimistic/stupid of Colress. He planned to have him as an assistant with easy access to the whole lab, but after a short while, it became apparent that Kudari wasn't interested in working, he just wanted to roam around. And with his temper and excitable nature, it quickly became an issue.

Next chapter is going to have some third person POV. I'm still not sure how much third person is going to be in the story. I'm writing different interactions I have planned, so when I get to work on the chapters, I can just cut and paste them. On a separate note, I put in a request to AO3 and have been given an estimate for my invitation! So when I post the chapters there, they won't have to be in parts.

#labmas au #hybrid au #submas #colress #nobori #kudari #submas au #ingo #subway boss ingo #emmet #subway boss emmet

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classictshirt · 2 years ago

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Bruins Start on Right Foot with Game 1 Win

Bruins Start on Right Foot with Game 1 Win BOSTON - It's not often that the Bruins have been without Patrice Bergeron for a playoff game. Since being sidelined for most of the 2007-08 season due to a severe concussion, the 19-year NHL veteran had missed just three of a possible 160 postseason contests. Bergeron, of course, famously played through broken ribs, a punctured lung, and a separated shoulder during the 2013 Stanley Cup Final. So, when Bergeron was declared out for Game 1 of the Bruins' first-round series against the Florida Panthers on Tuesday night, it was certainly a bit of a shock to the system. " different for sure," acknowledged Brad Marchand, when asked what it was like without his longtime linemate. But as they have all season long, the Bruins battled through. Despite the absence of their captain, the Black & Gold rallied together for a series-opening 3-1 victory over the Panthers at TD Garden, behind 31 saves from Linus Ullmark and a goal apiece from Marchand, David Pastrnak, and Jake DeBrusk. "The same as it's been all year," said Charlie McAvoy, who picked up an assist and landed a game-high eight hits in a team-high 22:28 of ice time. "Knowing that we trust in our depth and we trust in each other that whoever's going out there is going to get the job done. We believe in one another, and we believe that whoever it is, they're going to help pull their weight." The Bruins also had their captain keeping a close eye on the proceedings, as Bergeron maintained a presence around the locker room before, during, and after the game. "He was around all day and kind of talked to us before the game," said DeBrusk, whose tally gave Boston a 3-1 lead with 2:28 left in the second. "He was watching here in the room. Obviously, such a presence. You can tell how bad he wants to be out there, and he can't wait to get back in the mix. "You can tell he's itching to get back - and it's one of those things that we take as a team, and it kind of gives you a boost seeing him around. We want to do it for him. That was the main goal at the start of the year." Coach Jim Montgomery also had high praise for the rest of the Bruins' leadership core, as well as for Pavel Zacha, who subbed in for Bergeron for most of the night between Marchand and DeBrusk as the top-line center."It speaks of the leadership underneath Patrice, and it also speaks to our depth," said Montgomery. "We're very confident with Zacha in the middle and we know in the future. He's going to be an excellent top two center for us. He showed that tonight." Bertuzzi Debuts While Boston was without its most experienced playoff veteran in Bergeron, the Black & Gold got some critical contributions from its least experienced postseason player. Tyler Bertuzzi, making his playoff debut on Monday night, picked up a pair of assists in the win and was, arguably, Boston's best forward. "When we acquired him, we thought he was a guy that was made for the playoffs," said Montgomery. "And I thought his first shift, he laid out two huge hits and he just kept on making plays. The puck seems to follow him, and he makes plays and makes real good decisions with it." Bertuzzi's first assist was a thing of beauty. With Boston on the power play, the 28-year-old was camped out as the net-front man and was in perfect position to corral David Krejci's one-time blast from the left-wing circle. Bertuzzi then quickly delivered a terrific behind-the-back feed to Pastrnak, who tapped the puck into an open goal. "He has made his career in those areas in junior hockey and the American League," said Montgomery. "He was MVP of the playoffs in the American League, and this is his first opportunity to play in the Stanley Cup Playoffs and I think you can see that he's a playoff performer. "And that play on the power play goal, his hockey sense, he has real elite poise in and around the net. A lot of guys would have taken that and tried to stuff it in the net on the back hand, and he just pops it over for an empty-net goal." Marchand, who famously battled with Bertuzzi during the latter's time in Detroit, echoed his coach's sentiments about the winger being a "playoff-type player." "He did great. He's a competitor, and he battles extremely hard," said Marchand. "I don't think there's any question marks about him. He's won in the past. He was incredible in the Calder run that they had . He's just one of those guys that you hate to play against. He brings it every night. His compete level is through the roof. So, a guy that you knew was going to show up and be a playoff-type player." A Milestone for Marchy Marchand, meanwhile, made his own contributions with his 50th career postseason goal to give Boston a 2-1 lead at 3:41 of the second when he sneaked a wrister through the glove of Florida goalie Alex Lyon off a rush down the left side. The winger became just the second player in Bruins history to hit the 50-goal mark in the playoffs, joining Cam Neely (55). "You never know. Come playoff time, you never want to pass up a shot," said Marchand, whose marker was his 11th career playoff game winner, tying Neely for most in Bruins history. "That's just kind of the way that playoffs work out. Sometimes those shots go in. Sometimes they don't. But, nice to build off of." Marchand also became one of eight active players in the league to score 50 playoff goals, joining Alex Ovechkin (72), Sidney Crosby (71), Evgeni Malkin (67), Joe Pavelski (64), Nikita Kucherov (52), Patrick Kane (52), and Corey Perry (51). "It's always good to start the first game with a win," said Marchand. "We haven't accomplished anything yet. Each game that goes on is harder and harder to win. They're going to push back. All good teams do. They've got a lot of really good players in that group that are competitive. That second game is always a tough one. "It's good to start the way that we did, but we can be better, and we need to be better because they're going to come out really hard the next game, and we've got to be able to match that." Ullmark Stands Tall After going without a win in his first two playoff games last season in the B's opening-round game against Carolina, Ullmark broke through with a 31-save showing in Game 1 for his first-ever postseason victory. "It was nice to get the first game here at the Garden," said Ullmark. "It was a little bit more pleasant than starting away for your first one. So, yeah, I felt a little more comfortable playing in this one." "I thought he was excellent," added Montgomery. "I thought he was cool, calm, just real confident, seeing the puck really well, steering rebounds. It looked like there was a lot of chaos at our net; they took a lot of shots at bad angles and he's just great at steering pucks to bad areas or smothering them up. It really provides us a lot of confidence, allows us to control the chaos, so to speak." Ullmark had not played since leaving Boston's penultimate regular-season game last Tuesday with an injury. His status for Game 1 was not known until he led the team out for warmups. "Felt good," he said. "Felt terrific this morning, and once we did that, it was showtime." Wait, There's More DeBrusk put the Bruins ahead, 3-1, late in the second when he scored on an unusual play in which he poked home a loose puck that was on top of Lyon's pads before a whistle was blown. It was the winger's 19th career playoff tally. "It went low to high, and then I just tried to get to the net, tried to fight for space, and I just saw the puck," said DeBrusk. "I just saw the puck on his pad. I think I was getting checked, and I just tried to dive to get it…obviously, the pad of the goaltender is interference, so I was trying to go over top of it, and I saw it go in. I knew it was going to be kind of a close call. As soon as I saw the replay, I was happy I did what I wanted to do." Derek Forbort returned to the lineup after missing a month with a lower-body injury. Matt Grzelcyk was a healthy scratch on the back end. "Well, Forby's so good at a D-zone coverage and his penalty kill, and he showed that today," said Montgomery. "And down the stretch there with the last 4-5 minutes, he's out there with Carlo killing a lot of important minutes for us, especially in a pulled-goalie situation."Garnet Hathaway had a goal wiped off the board late in the third for goaltender interference. The shift ahead of the goal was a puck possession masterclass from Charlie Coyle, which garnered praise from Montgomery. "I think it's hard to match up, that's what it does for the other team," Montgomery said of Boston's bottom six. "What it does for our team, it just gives us energy. Same thing with the Nosek line, they had some great shifts, and I know it was a disallowed goal, but that was an incredible shift and that's the depth we have. I can move people around, have Hathaway, Nosek and Coyle go out there and kill a minute of three and a half minutes left in the game." Per NHL Stats, the Bruins are 10-1 in the postseason when both Marchand and Pastrnak score in the same game. Pastrnak's 31 playoff goals are tied with Ovechkin for sixth-most in the NHL since 2017 and equal Wayne Cashman for 12th in Bruins history. His tally on Monday night was his 12th career playoff power-play marker, tying Ken Hodge, David Krejci, and Ray Bourque for sixth on the B's all-time list. Read the full article

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nightowlwriting · 3 years ago

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summary: steve is acting weird. avoiding you, being snippy and mean, leaving the room when you enter. all you want is your boyfriend back, but all he wants is to pretend you don't exist. when he's almost hurt on a mission, you do what you're made to do.

word count: 11k

reader specifics: no race/gender/sexuality/body type mentioned, no pronouns for reader used, powered!reader, insecure!reader

warnings: steve is mean to the reader in the beginning, heavy angst, hurt/comfort, canon-level violence, brief ptsd symptoms, slight description of blood, brief mention of racism in the '30s & '40s

brief mentions of: reader's parents being toxic, homelessness, past accidents, ableism in the past & present

note: this one hurt me lmfao. idk why this went the way it did but i'm not mad at it // also i am a queer, trans, disabled american. i have fundamental disagreements with things that marvel/the mcu as it stands for and some of the more nuanced things that you might not notice unless you're looking for it. this will take place in my writing because i cannot separate myself from the lens in which i consume/create content.

title credit: lil nas x

mobile masterlist - request - support my work? - ao3

Falling in love with Steve Rogers went against every instinct you had. You knew that he was going to hurt you from the first moment your lips touched his. Sure - he’s clever, righteous, courteous… You can’t forget he’s also drop-dead gorgeous because every trashy gossip magazine in a three-state radius of New York doesn’t let you forget. Neither does the sight of him waking up in your bed every morning. (Well, actually, maybe that would remind you if he was still fucking doing that.)

But lately, you’ve had to rely on the fucking tabloids to catch a glimpse of your super-hero boyfriend. The university class you had picked up on a whim at the end of the summer - Life & Times of the ‘30s and ‘40s - avoids any mention of Steve Rogers and the Howling Commandos. Not that your classmates do because, Christ on a bike, those magazines manage to catch pictures of you and Steve in moments that you don’t even remember. Plus, you’re an Avenger too. It’s bound to catch some attention when you waltz into a college classroom.

You’re sure if you were an undergrad trying to fill a gen-ed requirement and were sitting next to someone who could kill you without blinking but also dating Captain Rogers you’d be a little distracted too. You try not to blame your classmates too much, but they do make it hard to concentrate with their -really dating Captain America?- and -wonder if I could get an autograph- whispers. None of that matters because you’re learning, really studying, in between missions and missing Steve and believing that maybe the gossip reporters are right.

Maybe he’s forgotten about you.

You grit your teeth and push the thought away. It does you no good right now, while you’re training with Peter. He’s working his way up to bona fide missions and, because you’re the only one on the team who has experience with real-life teenagers outside of saving their lives, it’s up to you to get him to the level that he needs to be. Plus, the mission where he’s going to get his gills wet is just you, Tony, Steve, Nat, and Bucky. You’d much rather be the one to train him because you won’t traumatize him.

Right now, though, you’re just kicking his ass to try and get rid of some of the tension in your body. You feel a little bad about it, but when you started as his mentor you told him point-blank that you’d never go easy on him. That meant if you were having a bad day he either needed to up his game or he’d have a bad day too. It appears he’s taken that to heart as he struggles to dodge the hits you’re throwing his way. He lunges out of the way when you try to land a right hook but practically walks into the leg sweep that sends him crashing to the ground.

“Awe,” Peter groans, letting his guard down. You take the momentary lapse of focus to grab him by the collar of the hoodie he’s wearing and haul him to his feet, jerking one fist back to cold-clock him but he beats you to it. You hear the sound of your nose cracking before you feel it but then the pain rushes you all at once. You’ve had worse but coming from Peter, the move surprises you. You don’t yell out but he does when you push him away from you and call the fight off. Peter practically yelps your name, hands up by his head as he watches you bend at the waist, both hands over where your nose is absolutely gushing blood. “I am so sorry, I just reacted-!”

“It’s fine, Pete,” You shake your head and stand straight again, the blood beginning to leak through your fingers, “Just go get me a towel, okay?” Peter practically trips over his feet to get something for your nose and as you track him on his way into the locker rooms, you see Steve, Bucky, and Nat. The latter are looking your way, eyebrows raised like they’re asking you if you’re okay. Steve hasn’t even broken stride in his conversation so you wave them off with a bloody hand. Peter’s back in a flash, pressing a wet towel into your grasp and snapping you out of your self-pity party. “It was a good hit,” You compliment as you wipe your face off, “I just wasn’t expecting it. Prob’ly wouldn't have landed it if I had.”

He wrings his hands, shifting from foot to foot. “I’m sorry-”

“It’s a good thing, Peter, means you’re getting better.” You deadpan, checking to see if your nose has stopped bleeding yet, “I don’t think you actually broke it, but I’ll go down to medical to check later.” You do your best to clean up your hands with the wet towel, but it’s so soaked with your blood that it mostly just smears it around. You grimace and shake your head. “Well, I should go now before our sparring match ends up looking like I murdered you.”

“I’ll go with,” He offers, “I’m the one who broke your nose.” You let Peter walk you down to medical even though you were originally going to refuse. Perhaps petty, but it was the way that Steve didn’t even look your way as you left that made you let the teenager walk you the two floors to where you’d be able to clean yourself up. He hums in the elevator and you know that he wants to ask you something - it’s the way he holds his mouth when he’s prying for information or keeping a secret that tips you off. Finally, just before the elevator opens, you sigh and turn to him.

“What, Peter?” He grins but then it falls when he has to skitter after you down the hall. Maybe that’s why it falls - the question he asks next nearly sends you to your ass.

“Is everything okay with you and Captain Rogers?” He easily catches up to you when you stop in your tracks, ignoring that you’re still bleeding a little bit down your face and you might be dripping blood everywhere from where it’s run down your arms.

“What?” You do your best to look confused like everything is fine, but Peter is perceptive. He may fumble around and be pretty awkward, but those are really just teenager things that he’ll hopefully outgrow. You should have known that when someone caught onto how bad things are on your end, it would be Peter. (You wonder if Nat or Bucky has brought it up with Steve, considering he’s spent more time with them in the past week than he’s seen you in the past month.) “We’re fine.” Your words are stilted as you begin walking to the medical wing much faster than before.

“I just thought I’d ask, well, because I’ve sort of noticed… Something just seems off, you know? Like, you two used to spend a lot of time together, and maybe it’s the recon mission coming up, but I was just thinking that you two really barely look at each other even when you’re in the same -”

“Peter!” You say his name much louder than either of you expected and both of you jump. “Peter,” You say softer, looking at the glass door to the medical wing instead of him, “Just leave it, okay? It’s nothing you have to worry about, kid.” Peter ducks around to open the door, forcing you to look at him. “He’s just focused on his stuff and I’m focused on getting you whipped into shape for this mission. We only have two days.” Once you’re inside and surrounded by the medical crew Tony keeps on staff, he thankfully drops it. You love Peter, you do, but it’s a lot like having a little brother. You can only love them so much before you want to fucking strangle them. Eventually, as the doctor checks to make sure he hasn’t broken your nose, you have to order him away to go study or something. “I’ll join you later,” You promise him as the doctor prods at your tender flesh, “I have an essay due soon.”

That’s another thing that’s been bugging you that Peter surely picked up on. Nearly everybody knew you were taking a course at the local community college, but nobody knew what it was about. You’d wanted to keep it a secret until you told Steve, but the day you had registered he’d flown out for a two-week mission without telling you or saying goodbye. After that, you decided it didn’t really matter if anyone knew what class you were taking, and keeping it a secret sort of spiraled from there. If they wanted to know they could look it up. Maybe it was petty, but you just wanted the class to be over and done with so you could forget that you really only picked it up so you relate to your boyfriend more.

If you can even call Steve your boyfriend anymore. You’re not so sure where you stand and, honestly, you’re really close to giving up on the relationship as a whole but you can’t do that. Before you were dating, you were friends, and Steve… He never gave up on you. Not once. How could you repay him by giving up on your relationship? The one that you thought was The One? Even if it hurts, even if you’re unsure more than sure these days, how could you? Somewhere, though, you know you deserve better. You don’t deserve the sinking, dark feeling that lingers in your gut for most of your days now or the way that you second-guess every move you make - even in the field. It’s dangerous but you can’t do anything to fix it.

You’re too scared. You know that eventually, it will happen, he’ll break up with you, but you’d like to put that day off for as long as possible. To relish in the love he once had for you, how pure and powerful it was. You’re sure that you’ll never experience anything like that again.

Hell, you might never fall in love again.

Those thoughts don’t do anything to help you, though, so you try not to have them. You get clearance from the doctor and get cleaned up as much as you can without taking a full body shower. The idea to go back to your room and take one crosses your mind but you know that Steve’s probably done training, probably heading back for his own shower, and you don’t want to open that can of worms. Instead, you go to the common room and drop into the couch between Peter and Tony. They’re talking about something something science something something, but you pull your stack of books and notebooks out from the shelf underneath the coffee table and continue outlining your essay from where you left off. The assignment was focused on how the end of WW1 changed American life and then how life changed leading up to and during WW2 but that had hit a little too close to home for you, so you’re writing about the racial tension and overall racism of the times. Tony and Peter keep talking over your back and then you hear footsteps heading toward the common room.

You barely look up when they enter - Nat and Bucky - because it’s fine. It’s normal. They’re just two of Steve’s best friends, that’s all, nothing to be jumpy about. You don’t even register that emotional pain that hits when you realize that, yeah, you’re not one of his best friends anymore. You doubt you’re even considered a friend in his book.

You groan and lean back into the couch, bringing your study materials with you. Peter glances over, skimming over your page and a half of shorthand, and gags. “Jesus, can you write like a normal person?”

“Oh, sorry,” You say lazily, not looking up as you continue to scribble in your incomprehensible code, “I do forget that some of us had privacy at home.” You lift your lips just a little bit to let Peter know you’re kidding, looking up at him through your lashes as you slouch next to him. He looks red in the face. “Besides, once you have to start doing mission reports you’ll be begging me to learn my shorthand and use my stenography machine.”

“I keep telling you that I can update that ol’ thing,” Tony draws your attention. For the first time, you realize that Nat and Bucky are on the loveseat looking at you expectantly. Steve is standing in the corner over their shoulder reading a book from the bookshelf in front of him. His back is tense and he looks like he’s not reading, just listening. You force your eyes back to Tony on your right and shake your head.

“No, because then you’d know my shorthand and it makes me too happy to see you spend hours trying to decipher it.” His eyes wander to your essay again, trying to find any patterns that he can use to figure out what the hell you’re writing on anything ever. He’s opening his mouth to make a smart-ass remark that will no doubt lift some of the weight off of your shoulders when another voice speaks up.

“Wow,” Steve doesn’t even look at you even as he says your name sardonically, “Way to be a team player.” Your mind comes to a screeching halt, trying to figure out what the fuck he’s playing at. Even Bucky and Nat look surprised at the cold way he spoke to you, Tony and Peter both gasping from your side. You can’t say anything, throat tight and burning with tears as you stare at your boyfriend with raised eyebrows. What do you say to that? How do you respond? You know it wasn’t a joke because he’s not laughing, not smiling, not even looking up from that fucking book in his hands. You can’t tell if you’re more hurt or embarrassed, but either way, you don’t want to stick around for someone to get the nerve to say something.

Instead of replying, you slam your textbooks shut and bundle everything into your arms. You doubt Steve even notices that you’re making such a hasty retreat but if he does, he doesn’t say a fucking thing. You feel like you’re in high school - practically running through an empty hallway with your notebooks and textbooks pressed to your chest, trying not to cry. It’s ridiculous. You’re a trained assassin, you’re an Avenger, you are strong and powerful and yet… And yet. You’ve given so much of your heart and soul to Steve Rogers that he can knock you down eight pegs without even trying. Without even looking at you. You can’t wait to go on this fucking recon mission, where you can put all of your focus on making sure Peter is doing okay and gathering the intel. Where you can stop thinking about how easily Steve Rogers seems to be pushing you to the side.

You spend the next two days writing your essay, ignoring almost everyone, and working on your essay. On the day of the recon mission, you’re running out the door for your eight a.m lecture, printed essay in hand, and reminding Tony that he promised to pick you up on campus after class for the mission.

You’re lucky that you went, too. You hadn’t counted on the professor making everyone stand up and tell the class the subject of their essays - didn’t realize that it would be twenty-five percent of the grade on the paper. You’ll never understand college professors and the weird shit they do, but the class is informative and entertaining. He goes around the room, starting on the opposite side of you, so you’ll be last. Great.

Several students did their papers on the propaganda of the time, one student was brave and did her essay on the ethical dilemma of the super-soldier serum and eugenics, and most of the other students focused on pop culture and how it changed. When your professor looks at you it’s almost like he’s expecting you to have done nothing but fawn over Steve and Bucky, considering you know them personally. He looks surprised when you clear your throat, stand and say: “I focused on the casual and institutional racism that faced non-white Americans at the time.” You almost preen when he looks impressed and then the shame fills you. It’s just… You want Steve to be proud of you. You want him to congratulate you on going back to school, even if it’s just for one class. You want him to be happy and surprised that he was the inspiration for taking the class.

Though, lately, the class has been more for you than for him. You like learning new things, pushing the boundaries of assignments, making people uncomfortable with the truth of the times you’re studying as told to you by two people who lived it. It’s nice. Normal.

Everyone needs a little bit of normal.

But, honestly, normal is fucking boring. By the time your class is over and you’re handing in your essay it’s like ants are crawling over your skin. A combination of nerves from the upcoming mission, a head full of fog from whatever is happening with Steve, and a little bit of fear at the thought of taking Peter into the field has you bolting for the door the moment your essay is taken from you. You’d worn your tac-suit underneath a pair of baggy sweats and a loose hoodie, so you don’t even bother slowing down as you head toward the car that Tony has waiting for you. He’s in the front seat, grinning at you from underneath his aviators and Peter is driving.

You slip into the backseat without thinking or looking at who’s there, tossing your bag in the back and peeling your hoodie off. “God, Tone, we’re goin’ to die before we even get to the mission with Petey driving.” You toss your hoodie back to join your bag and finally see who’s sitting next to you.

Of course, it’s Steve. He’s looking at you - but not really. He’s looking through you, like he can’t stand that you’re both crammed in the backseat of Tony’s electric car. His gaze catches you and holds you in place. Everything around you goes cold and fuzzy, making you miss Peter’s indignant complaining that he has his license so he should be able to drive… And then Steve scoffs and looks out his window, ignoring you. It stings but you have a job to do. You make some witty retort back to Peter, but it falls flat as you struggle out of your sweats. This is what life is, you think. Relationships aren’t meant to be forever - you learned that at a young age.

Until your accident at fifteen, you had watched your parents run out of helium, their relationship expanding and cooling in arguments, in days spent not talking, in trips to your grandparents without the other, in passive-aggressive computer searches for divorce attorneys left open for anyone to see. Then, after you were trapped between those machines - after you spent hour after agonizing hour with electricity pressing between your atoms, being torn apart and rebuilt as a young god - after that day you watched them expand against each other before the neutron core of their relationship collapsed on itself and the resulting supernova sent you to the streets. But then Fury found you. Then Tony, then Nat, then Steve.

Your parents exploded out from each other and the shockwaves ruined your life. At least now, your relationship with Steve is ending silently. There’s no explosion, no collapse, no rapid expansion to take over your cosmos. Your relationship with Steve is simply approaching the event horizon, where it will hang in the air until one of you takes the final step and you both become frozen, two collapsing objects on opposite sides of the universe. Maybe that’s what you already are. You feel so far away from him in the back of Tony’s car - like he’s eons and light-years away from you - and you feel so cold. Frozen, down to the bone. It makes you stiff in your replies to Tony and Peter, slow on the uptake when the car pulls up to the quinjet, nearing stasis and unable to respond when Nat asks if you’re okay.

Finally, you turn to look at her, nodding. “Fine,” You clear your throat, “Been a rough day.” You do your best to smile at her, but your face feels heavy. Your chest feels cold and tight, making you worry about your performance on the upcoming mission. When Peter shakes his head next to you, discreetly telling Nat not to press, you’re focused on Steve and the electricity humming in the most base part of your body.

He scoffs and rolls his eyes. You turn away and force yourself to smile, throwing a weak and numb arm over Peter’s shoulders. “Are you ready for this, Pete?” You jostle him back and forth, leading him toward the sitting area behind the cockpit. “Gonna get your ass kicked?”

“Please,” He shoves you off, nervously laughing, “Not with the skills you’ve taught me.” He mimics throwing webs, making hissing noises under his breath, and you bark out a laugh, shaking your head.

“You’re payin’ my medical bills when I have to save your ass, Spidey.” You shake your head and strap in next to the wall, Peter taking the seat to your right. Tony, from the aisle across from you, points a thick finger your way.

“You don’t pay medical bills anymore,” He waggles his finger, “So you’ll just have to make him do your homework for a week.”

“Mister Stark!”

“He’ll have to earn shorthand to do your essays,” Nat chimes in from between Bucky and Steve, who are both doing their best to not look at you - or anyone really. “You willing to share that with him?”

You lean back in your seat and jab at Peter with your elbow. “Hell no, so I guess Spider-Boy better do his best.” The arachnid in question grumbles, crossing his arms and slouching in his seat.

“No pressure, right?” He complains, “Not like I’m already nervous or anything.”

“You’ll do fine, kid,” Bucky pipes up, drawing your eyes back to Steve, “It’s goin’ to be a cakewalk.”

“Don’t jinx it, Barnes,” You warn half-heartedly, tucking in on yourself, “We need this to be easy.” From the look on his face - everyone’s face, really - you know that they heard you loud and clear when you were really saying I need this to be easy.

After an uneasy laugh from Bucky, a claustrophobic silence settles over you all as the jet begins to take off. You’re in for an hour ride and plan to spend it going over battle plans with Peter when harsh whispering catches your ear. It’s Bucky and Steve nearly crushing Nat between them until she gets up and sits across from Peter, rolling her eyes. Still, you try your best to run him through the actions you both had planned - the names, the setups you needed to execute them, everything. If something happens to Peter, you’ll never forgive yourself.

And then, cutting through your soft promptings to Peter and his equally soft replies, Bucky’s voice. “Leave it, Steve. Until after this mission.” Even Tony looks up from his tablet, curiosity piqued. Their faces are both red, set hard and angry at each other and your stomach drops. What the hell is going on that Steve ‘Till The End Of The Line Rogers is fighting with Bucky You And Me, Pal Barnes? You must shift, or lean too far into Steve’s eyesight, because for the first time in what feels like years he is looking directly at you - and seeing you, too. It makes your pulse jump and, almost instinctively, you want to reach out and ground yourself on the rubber of the seat underneath you.

You don’t get the chance, though, because Steve speaks. “No, why should I? This is clearly affecting the team.” He’s still looking - glaring - at you like you’ve done something wrong. “What’s the point of waiting? I’ve been waiting to talk about this.”

“Bo, I don’t think this is the time,” Bucky looks over his shoulder at you, then, and you know what’s coming. You know that it’s time, that Steve is about to break up with you in front of your teammates. Your friends. Your family. You steel yourself for the anguish you’re about to feel and then jerk your chin out, hardening your resolve.

“Buck, it’s fine. If Steve wants to address something, he can.”

Natasha says your name, a low warning over the hum of the quinjet. “I think he should wait.”

“Well, I’m not goin’ to wait!” Steve unbuckles himself and stands, “I have tried waiting, and look at where that has gotten me.” He puts his hands on his hips and puffs out a breath. You unbuckle and stand, too, unsure of where this is going. “You need to,” He holds one hand out, pointing at you while his voice shakes. You notice his hand is shaking, too, but fractionally. If you didn’t know Steve as well as you do you may have never noticed it. “You need to get it together.”

“I need to get it together?” You question, eyebrows nearly hitting the ceiling with how fast they shoot up. You’re not totally sure you’ve heard him right because what do you have to get together? The broken shards of your relationship? The information and research for your final paper? The awful way you’ve let yourself be treated for what seems like forever?

“You heard me,” Steve says, at the same time Bucky leans his head back and groans deep in his chest. “What? Someone had to say it.”

“We should wait for this,” Nat speaks up again, but lifelessly. She knows now that you and Steve are both on the warpath, neither of you are going to stop. (That’s also why the two of you work together as a couple so well. Very rarely are you both so worked up about something that you can’t back down, so the other is always there to meet you halfway and get you back to earth.)

“No, no, no,” You say, near hysterically, “No, he wants to do this now? Before a mission? Instead of the fuckin’ weeks we had to hash whatever crawled up his ass and died out? Be my guest. He’s already dragged everyone into this by treating me like a pariah.” You’re not sneering, but your teeth are gritted so tightly together you can hear them scraping and feel a tension headache beginning to bloom in your temples. Bucky looks… Almost incredulous at your statement. Like putting the blame on Steve is a dick move or something.

“Oh, so I’m the bad guy here?” Steve is curling his lip, glaring at you. There’s something behind his eyes, but he’s buried it so deep that you can’t reach it and figure out what it is. “I’m the bad guy, right. Right, right, right.” He scoffs, shakes his head, and then he’s running his fingers through his hair like he really can’t believe what you’re saying to him.

“Well, what else am I supposed to think?” You throw your hands out to the side and let them slap back down on your thighs. “You ignore me, you make me feel like shit, you talk down to me like I’m some insignificant foot soldier. How else am I supposed to take that, Steve?”

“Oh, I don’t know, maybe ask me what’s wrong? Maybe ask me why I’m acting like this, instead of ignoring all of your problems like a child?” He mirrors your moments, but the sound his hands make when they hit the outside of his suit is more powerful than yours. Fueled by anger, you think. Anger and whatever the hell was in the serum Erskine pumped into Steve.

“Ask you?” You repeat, near-hysterical, “Ask you? Oh yeah, let me get right on that. Hey, Mister Rogers? Mister Captain America? Mister Ignores-His-Partner-For-God-Knows-Why? Hey, just why are you doin’ that?” You’re surprised that you’ve said something so snotty, but you don’t back down. (Steve looks surprised, too, and Bucky has stood up next to his friend like he’s about to start berating you as well. At least he looks more cautious about it, like he’s not totally sure that this fight should be happening.)

The more surprising part of your fight is how fast it’s shut down. Tony and Nat stand at the same time and exchange a glance like they’ve surprised each other. “That’s enough,” Tony starts.

Nat cuts him off. ��I don’t care if you fight this one out instead of talking, but if you do it before this recon mission you two are going to blow it. Do you understand me?” She looks dangerous, the sharp edge of a knife spiraling through the air. You force yourself to look away from her, from Tony, from Bucky, from Steve. She’s right. You know she’s right - especially on this mission. Peter is there, going to be in real danger even though there’s not supposed to be one Hydra agent in a four-mile radius. You have to clear your mind and focus on protecting him.

Steve seems to think the same thing because he stands down. When you watch him collapse in on himself, Bucky’s arms around his shoulders, into the little quinjet seats your everything aches. Heart, lungs, eyes - everything. Even though you don’t know what’s going on, what could have possibly happened to make your relationship sink this quickly and out of the blue, you still love him. He’s still The One for you. You still want to be the one to comfort him and make him feel whole when he’s struggling.

But you can’t. You can’t and it kills you.

The heat of battle makes a lot of things fade into the background. Important things like why the fuck are there Hydra agents here? and Steve is going to break up with you when you get back on the jet and Tony swore on the fucking limited edition AC/DC vintage tour poster he has in his office that this would be an easy in/easy out information mission. None of that matters, though, because you’re in deep shit. There are seventeen of them, all primed to the teeth with weapons made to take your team down permanently.

You’re practically glued to Peter, calling out commands and plans for him to initiate. It’s when all of your plans fall through that you take a hit from a heavy fist on purpose, hitting the ground hard. “Plan F, Spidey, Plan F!” You cover the instruction with a groan and then you’re back on your feet, working your way toward him.

“Plan F?” Tony says, somewhere above you in his suit. Your comms crackle ominously as another heat-seeking grenade is launched, interfering with the radio waves your tech relies on. You don’t worry about it, because you know Tony is on it. He’s your eyes in the sky.

Peter is the one who answers his question, watching your close hand-to-hand tilt out of your favor briefly. “Plan Fuck It, Mister Stark.” He grunts as he webs up a Hydra agent, jerking him away from where he was about to slip a knife up and under Natasha’s kevlar. You finally drop the guy in front of you, ignoring Steve’s disappointed Language! and toss one of your knives toward Nat for her to use. Tony is still laughing in your ear, wheezing as he drops down and snags the rifle from one of the snipers and then takes back off.

What your little protégé failed to mention about Plan F is that it’s not just chaos, but controlled chaos. You let loose, letting a soft current cover every inch of your skin as Peter switches to his conductive webbing and takes special care to not web any of his allies. Except for you - if you’re in the way and he catches you in a web it doesn’t matter because you’re you, alive with electricity that drops the men that get caught in the web, too. You rip out of the webs and turn the current off when one of your teammates gets too close.

More Hydra agents are pouring out of the woods, topping out their numbers around twenty-five. That’s twenty-five too many in your opinion, especially when you can see Peter getting tired, his anxiety spiking, his moves having more and more hesitation behind them. You need to get this over with quickly, but you don’t have the options to do that. Steve, Bucky, and Nat are really the heavy-hitters - you, Pete, and Tony are the only ones without serums despite all of your individual abilities. Desperately you reach out for a web that’s still connected to Peter’s arms, pulling him out of the way of a baton that’s about to come down on the back of his neck.

The baton the agent is wielding glints in the coming dusk, freezing you as Peter scrambles past you with a quick apology. You’ve seen that before - seen it, felt it, know it like the back of your hand. There’s no way that you could ever forget that weapon. The man stumbles when his hit doesn’t connect but then rights himself and searches for a new target.

A long, black baton that splits into two prongs at the end is heavy in his hand. Electricity crackles between the bulbs at the end, flashing in the setting sun and your memories. The man only has one, but if it was hooked up to a machine, spinning. If there were four, five, six. If you were pinned between them, screaming in the pain as they rewrote your DNA… You’ve only felt it once, but you’ll never forget it.

And now, you’ll taste it again. On purpose this time. The man holding the stun baton is going for Steve’s back - his strong back, the one that protects people, the one that holds the weight of the world, the one that lays in your bed, the one you see whipping out of rooms as you’re entering just so that he doesn’t have to look at you - and you can’t let that happen. It only takes ten amps to kill a regular human, but you know those things are cranked up to twenty minimum. You don’t want to see how many amps of current it will take to stop Steve’s heart. You’re between the baton and Steve before you can think about what you’re doing or what comes next, the hard bulbs settling unyielding into your side and cranking out maximum power for maximum damage as soon as the current is connected and able to flow from one bulb to the other.

The pain hits you and your throat catches on it. It burns through your body, setting everything on fire - your chest hurts as your heart protests the electrons and then your powers kick in, sweeping them into your very atoms and cells. You’re a live wire now, ears humming and body thrumming with power you’ve only dreamed of. It hurts, and it burns, and you feel tears rising in your eyes because you’re back there - back begging for death or for life or for God and god at the same time - but then it’s over. The man sees that you’re not seizing up, not dropping dead in front of him, and he takes three steps back.

It’s not far enough.

You’ve only felt like this once before - right after you were unhooked from the machine that changed your life and brought you to your new family. You remember how you looked when you were put in front of a mirror with all of the pent up electricity circling your body - how your eyes were filled to the brim and dripping with bright and blue electricity, the way it was jumping across your body, how you didn’t need to breathe because your body was fully saturated with pure, unadulterated power. You wonder if you look like that now and assume you do because you can see the bright blue reflecting in the terrified eyes of the Hydra agent.

Your suit, unlike everyone else’s, is not grounded. It’s metal, metal, metal. You’re made to conduct, born for it, and the earth beneath you comes alive with bright white as you release all of the energy, the power, surges down and out. You’re practiced. You can reach out and feel the synapses and neurons of every human being in the clearing, know exactly where your teammates are standing, and know exactly how to target everything but them and the pitiful amount of electricity their brains carry. You grin, something truly feral and unhinged, and you can see the fear in the Hydra agent. Then, you let go.

You know that everyone is going to be pissed. (Maybe not everyone.) You’re not built for this, not made to take down nearly twenty fucking people at once. As you let go, you feel what they feel. The seizing muscles, the stopping of their hearts, the inside of their bodies crisping against their bones. At that moment, that delicious moment, you see the universe.

You become God. You become everything - your mother and your father and God and god and anyone else who’s watching your life from the ether. You become the judge, jury, and executioner of souls that you don’t know from Adam. You become lightning, and thunder, and exposed nerves of the cosmos at the same time. The world bends to your will and you relish in it, taking that power in your fist and wielding it to protect the man you’ll love for the rest of your life and the family that you’ve made. You will stop at nothing to end this, even if it means turning yourself inside out to do it.

You damn near do turn yourself inside out too, but that doesn’t matter, does it? The blood spilling from your ears, nose, and eyes feels like heaven. It’s hot, and thick, and it’s proof of the power that your body holds. You’re a temple and a sanctuary, a war-room and a bunker, a field of flowers and a sun-dry desert. It does not matter if Steve doesn’t love you at that moment, because you are love and hate wrapped into one package. You are everything and nothing, spread thin at the beginning and the end of time.

And then none of that is true. You are just… You. Standing in a clearing, surrounded by twenty-something dead Hydra agents and your terrified, terrified family. It hurts to breathe and you can taste blood in your mouth, but that’s an afterthought. Steve is still standing behind you, but he is alive. That is what matters.

This is what love is, you think.

Pain and pleasure.

Even if he leaves you, you will always love him.

Pain and pleasure.

You’re weak at the knees when he finally turns to see you - and you’re a sight. Struggling to stand, fingertips blackened with soot but not burnt, blood pouring from your nose, ears, eyes… You look like death, but you feel like life. Someone says something behind you - Peter, maybe? Or maybe Tony, in your comms? - but you don’t hear it. Everything tunnels out, your weak knees finally collapsing as you keel backward.

Steve bears down upon you almost immediately. You’re halfway to unconsciousness when he wraps you up in his arms, keeping you from falling in with the pile of bodies around you. He’s saying your name, harsh and soft and then in a voice like he’s ordering you to wake up. You loll about as he drops you down onto a patch of clear grass, hands searching your body for wounds. When he skims over your side, where the baton has burnt through your suit and your flesh, you surge back toward being able to have cohesive thoughts. The pain brings you back, hands wrapping around Steve’s arm and calling out his name. “Steve! Fuck, that hurts!”

“Honey,” He breathes, “Fuck, we have to get you back to the jet.” His jaw ticks, hair dirty and loose from its normal style. “Why’d you do that?” Steve doesn’t wait for an answer from you, ordering Peter to web something up to carry you over your protests.

“I’m fine,” You argue, only slurring slightly, “I feel fine.” But you’re going to let Nat and Bucky load you up on the webbed stretcher anyway because it’s the first time Steve has cared for you in a long time. You want to relish in this moment, the way that he didn't say your name but called you honey.

Well, and because Natasha slides a thumb across her neck over Steve’s shoulder in a silent threat.

You groan when Bucky accidentally grabs your calf where there is an absolutely awful stab wound, but you wave off his apology. “How could you have known?” To be honest, you hadn’t even known it was there until his Vibranium hand was slipping against it and sending shockwaves of pain through you. Peter is next to you the whole time that you’re being carried back to the jet - Tony staying back to begin scanning the bodies of the Hydra agents for the information you need and any other information they may be carrying. The poor kid is nearly at a breakdown, so you reach out to him and shake his arm when his fingers twine with yours. “Chill out, kid, I don’t know how you got it into your head that this is your fault, but it sure isn’t.” He sniffles, but hands back with Steve as Bucky and Nat get you situated in the small medical room of the jet. They transfer you and then make to leave, only Bucky hesitating near the door.

“Stevie’s goin’ to be here soon and… I don’t know what made you do what you did but you have’t explain it to him. He’s bendin’ over backwards to figure it out, and we don’t have’a clue. Came out’a nowhere.” He looks at you for another moment before shaking his head and stepping out of the room. Your head is spinning, partially from what Bucky just said and partially from the pain and stimulus of electricity. You wait there, then, because this is it. This is the event horizon. You wait there, eyes closed, until you hear footsteps approach the med room, and then the door slowly opens. Steve says your name, holding all the finality and weight of an atomic bomb. You don’t open your eyes until he swings a chair next to the stretcher and lays a hand on your calf.

“You don’t have to do this,” You finally say, pushing yourself up onto your elbows to watch him. “I know that you don’t want to.” Steve only scoffs and begins to wash the stab wound using a packet of soap and a water bottle. You say his name twice before he looks at you, something between hate and hurt curdling into a glaze over his eyes that stops you in your tracks.

“Just let me do this. It is the least that you can do.” His words are painful and stilted, like it’s taking force to push them past his teeth. You lay back down and close your eyes, content to just feel the pain of Steve beginning to stitch you up and then dress the wound before you feel the pain of Steve leaving you like you knew he always would. (Falling in love with Steve Rogers went against every instinct you had. You knew that he was going to hurt you from the first moment your lips touched his.)

When he’s done he sits back and puts his elbows on his knees, head in his hands. He heaves a heavy sigh and then shakes it off, “I’ll dress your burn, and then we’ll talk.” And normally, yes, you would agree but this is too important. You want to get it over with so you can lick your wounds metaphorically and dress them literally - and then you want to go home, you want to pack your bags, and you want to disappear and remake your life somewhere else.

Some far-off place where everyone you know won’t take one look at your face and know that you’re still painfully, deeply in love with Steve Rogers, end of your semester be damned. Family you’ve made be damned. You can’t sit around and be in love with him like a neon sign on a dark highway while it’s painfully clear that he hasn’t had a sign on his highway in a long time.

So instead of agreeing, you swing your legs over the stretcher and swallow your flinch when the burn pulls tight. Steve opens his mouth to argue but you give him a tight-lipped shake of your head and his jaw snaps shut. “No,” You say, voice not giving in to the emotion swirling in your chest. “I have let this go on long enough.”

It’s the wrong thing to say because Steve fucking scoffs again and looks away from you. “One day was long enough.” He says, cutting straight to your core. Okay, ouch. You take a deep breath and shake your head to try and bite back the tears that are inevitably rising in your eyes. If one day was long enough for him to realize he doesn’t want to be with you, why did he let it go on for nearly a full year? Why did he spend so long leading you on, pulling you by a thread before garroting your heart with it? What was the point?

“If you want to leave me, just say that,” You reply harshly, standing and wobbling away from him. He just watches you go, watches the way you struggle past the lead weights your muscles have become, the way you’re starting to feel the stab wound on your leg, the way the skin on your burn is beginning to blister and only just now losing its heat. He just watches you, where the Steve that loved you once upon a time might have helped. You turn your back on him, hands on your hips so that you can hide the way that you’re crying and your hands are shaking.

“If I want to leave you? If?” He says. You hear the scrape of his chair as he stands, “I think after what you’ve done, it’s not an if, sweetheart.” The way he says it tastes like iron. Steve never calls you sweetheart like he never calls you by your name. It’s always honey, lover, dovie. You don’t turn to face him because you’re struggling to keep yourself above water. “I spent so long thinkin’, wonderin’, askin’ myself - God damnit, will you look at me?” You turn slowly, not because you’ve never heard Steve speak like that but because his voice is desperate and raw. When you turn, you’re not sure what to expect. Maybe him, standing in front of you, broad-shouldered and disappointed like in those PSA’s he had to film once. Maybe he’d be angry, hands clenched at his sides and eyes narrowed like he gets in meetings when he doesn’t agree with something but he’s out-voted. But you never expect to see him crying, lip wobbling, folded in on himself like a young boy instead of the strong, invincible man you’ve come to love.

He looks so different.

It hits you, then, that you’re not looking at Steve Rogers. Not really. He's not Steve Rogers, not Captain America, not even Captain Rogers. You see him as he was - before America spat it’s untruths all over him and injected him with a serum that changed who he was, is, will be. He’s not the able-bodied man that you know, not strong and unreachable, not the heartthrob that overshadows the team during press events. He’s not America’s Darling, not really. Not where it counts.

You’re looking at Stevie Rogers. Stevie Rogers who, for all intents and purposes, was supposed to die before he made it out of toddlerhood or soon thereafter. Stevie Rogers who the doctors said wasn’t supposed to survive. Stevie Rogers who grew up sickly, rattling painful breaths and never playing ball with the neighborhood boys. Who couldn’t walk until middle school when he got his braces off. Who never had a partner because Bucky, strong and handsome and tall Bucky, was always deemed the better option. Who believed in his country so much that he tried to sneak into the second world war, subjected himself to a painful medical procedure so that he could change his very DNA to be what the world wanted him to be.

Captain Steve Rogers. Captain America. Strong, blond, patriotic, resilient.

You’re sure that if men don’t want to go to therapy now, in the modern age, they certainly didn’t want to go in the ‘40s. So where did that leave Steve, your Steve, standing in front of you and looking small, and broken, and sad, and alone? Did they expect him to take his new, taller, working body and run with it? Did they not think about how he would lose a part of himself in the process? How did they expect him to go from disabled to abled without some disconnect?

You think about the You That You Were Before and the You That You Are Now, and how you lost a part of yourself when the accident gave you your powers and how you’d lose yourself if someone figured out a way to take them away. You Before formed your identity around being normal - living in a shitty home with shitty parents, sure, but normal - and You Now form your identity around your powers, your team, your job, your love. If you lost those things, what did you have left? Who would you be?

When Steve lost his identity and became everything that America wanted everyone to think that America was, what did he have left? Sure, he could tell himself that he represents America - strong and patriotic and just - but it must have conflicted with everything he knew about himself before that. You know that disabled people now know that American society is unjust, unfit for them with abled people not willing to make room to allow them to thrive. You can only imagine what it was really like for Steve in the ‘20s and ‘30s and ‘40s. What he had to do just to survive. (Medical experimentation, you remind yourself. Did they know it wouldn’t kill him? Did they know his body wouldn’t rip itself apart with the new sinewy muscle they were packing on? Did they care? Or was he just a body they saw as broken? A project to fix? To turn him into something more like them and call it patriotism?)

You shake your head at him, still filled with despair, and try to figure out what he’s talking about. “Stevie,” You start, pet name easily replacing what you had been calling him because it’s not fair to shoe-horn him into a body that doesn’t feel like his own. You wonder if he still expects the bone-grinding pain that he used to tell you would happen when it rains. He raises a hand, a strong and family hand, shaking his head.

“I just need to know why I wasn’t enough for you,” Steve looks sad, slouching in on himself like he’s expecting to get his ass handed to him in another alleyway and hope Bucky is there to save him. “I need to know why you wouldn’t just break up with me if you wanted to see other people so badly.” You suck in a shocked breath because, okay, that’s not what you were expecting. Between that and the paradigm shift you’ve had on how Steve must view his identity, body, and self, you’re stunned. Steve continues like he doesn’t even register that you look shocked and pale and now you’re crying because he thinks you’re cheating on him? “And I get it. I get it. You have no idea how much I understand. If I were you, I wouldn’t want me either, okay?”

You cut him off there because what the actual God damn fuck is he talking about? “No, Stevie, I’m not cheating on you.” You shake your head again and this, your statement, lights a fire in him. He still looks like Stevie rather than Steve, but there’s anger there. You imagine that’s what it might have looked like moments before he got himself in trouble back before he was serumed. “I’m not.”

“Oh, yeah?” He challenges, jaw ticking and chin jerking up, “Oh, yeah? You can’t lie to me. I know, okay? The act is up, it’s over, I know, okay? You can stop pretending.”

“Steve, I do not fucking know what you’re talking about but I”m not cheating on you!” You raise your voice, not really angry but more out of necessity. You need to get it out of his head that he is anything less than everything you want - that you could possibly love anyone more than you love him.

“I wanted to clarify something for you,” Steve says like he’s reading an old script from when he was just a beefy, red/white/blue stage prop for the American military, “I am excited to meet with you, but there are some rules. Do not talk about Captain Steve Rogers. I don’t want to hear about him,” As he continues to recite something that has clearly hurt him, you go lax. You know exactly what’s happened - your fists unclench, your jaw drops a little bit, and it feels like someone has gutted you, “I think it is wise to keep work and pleasure separate, and it’s a rule I will enforce heavily. I look forward to seeing you again.” He’s sneering at the end, tears falling down his ruddy cheeks.

“Steve,” You try again, but he cuts you off.

“Am I just work for you?” His voice is shaking more than you thought possible, and so are his hands. You’ve never seen Steve so off-kilter, so thrown, and it breaks your heart that yes, technically, you’re the cause of this. Before this, before this horrible misunderstanding, your relationship with Steve was the paragon of trust so neither of you cared if the other read emails or texts. You remember the email - the email from your fucking college professor - because it had made you so angry that he’d referred to your relationship with Steve as something as simple and base as just pleasure - like you could even put words to the galaxy of a relationship you had with Steve - that you’d gone to the gym to work off some of that irritation. You hadn’t wanted to take it out on anyone accidentally. When you came back from the gym, Steve was gone on that two-week mission that he’d left on without saying goodbye.

Oh, God. You feel sick to your stomach as the paradigm of the way that Steve’s been treating you shifts violently to the left. You have to physically hold yourself up and try to speak past the lump in your throat. Steve looks… Brokenly smug. Like he knows he’s right, but he’d rather gnaw his own legs off than be right.

“No,” You croak, “No, Steve, you’ve got it all wrong.” You want to reach for him, but it feels like the room is closing in on you. You’re second-guessing everything now - especially what you’ve just said. How many people said the exact same thing to him pre-serum because they said something meant for Bucky to him? How many times did he hear that when he was getting a new diagnosis, hoping for the best? How many times had his own mother said it to him when he told her something someone had said, fresh-faced and not yet used to the way that abled people sometimes treated disabled people? You think you might be sick. “That email was from my professor, Steve. I’m not cheating on you, I’d never.” He laughs darkly and sits back down in his chair, head in his hands again. You try to gather the strength to move toward him when you see his shoulders shaking, a telltale sign that he’s crying.

“A professor,” He says with a watery laugh, “Right.”

Finally, you realize that he needs you, needs to know you love him, that you’d do anything for him. You can iron out the kinks later - figure out why he didn’t want to come to talk to you past the original hurt, why he treated you so coldly, why he didn’t trust that you wouldn’t do this to him - but now, you need to show him that you’re here. That you choose him. That you’ll always choose him.

You make your way to him and set a shaking hand on his shoulder. For a brief second you think he’s going to shake you off but then Steve’s hand shoots up and latches onto where your hand is resting, dipping his head to press against your arm. “Stevie, please,” You say, unsure of what you’re asking him to do, “I picked up a class, just one, and it’s… I picked it up for you, it’s about the ‘30s and ‘40s and…” He looks up at you and he looks so broken - face ruddy and wet with tears, lip wobbling, chest heaving as he tries to not sob. His brows are knit and he looks confused, “I just wanted to be able to understand you better. You had to leave so much of yourself at the door when you joined the Avengers, had to leave so much of yourself in the ice… In Erskine’s lab… Stevie, I just wanted you to be able to be you when you’re with me. I wanted to know the you that you were before you became Captain America.” Your voice is shaking, knees knocking together, and honestly? You feel like you might blackout.

“What?” He rasps, “What?”

“He sent that email because too many kids signed up for his class thinking that they’d be able to look at pictures of you and Buck for a semester. Emailed me directly because he knows we’re…” You choke on your words, shaking your head because you’re not even sure there’s a we anymore, “Because he knows I’m on the team. Didn’t want me walking in and making his class about just a few years in the ‘30s and ‘40s rather than the culture of the time.” You don’t know how else to explain it to him, but Steve isn’t saying anything - practically isn’t moving or breathing- so you continue to try and explain what’s really happening as best as you can, “And - and that email made me so angry because he singled me out, didn’t email anyone else about it, and I left to try and work some of that out; I didn’t want to take it out on you, or let it spoil - let it spoil… But when I came back from the gym, you were gone. You were gone for two weeks and I didn’t know why.” You’re crying harder now and pretty sure that within the next sixty seconds you’re going to collapse if you don’t sit down.

Steve shakes his head, still looking like he doesn’t understand. “What?” He says for a third time, “A class? A college class?”

“I just wanted to feel closer to you,” You confess, “Just wanted to understand a fraction of your life without making you do the heavy liftin’ and teachin’ me. Shouldn’t have’t do that,” You’re sobbing, barely biting out your words as you realize that something you’ve done to strengthen your relationship with Steve has destroyed it, “Shouldn’t have to explain a whole different time just to feel loved, Stevie. Should be able to be with someone who understands without you havin’ to explain.” You’re not sure you can say Peggy’s name out loud, and you hope he understands what you’re saying without making you actually say it, “Should’a been able to have love with someone who knew, and I know I’m nothin’ compared to what you should’a had, but I want to be. I want to be in the same ballpark instead’a watchin’ from the stands.” You wipe your face with your free hand and look away from Steve when he stands in front of you. You don’t want to see the look on his face - what he’s thinking about what you’ve said.

He says your name and you glance at him, but his expression stops him in your tracks. Where Steve looked broken and hurt and fuming with anger to hide the anguish, now he looks stricken. You shake your head, “No, no. I didn’t say that to make you feel guilty-”

“You think that I care about whether or not you can understand the ‘40s?” He cuts you off, hands moving to curl around your biceps, “You think that I care whether or not you can relate to a time in history when you weren’t even thought of?”

“Of course I love you. I love you more than anything in this world, but you shouldn’t have to not care, Steve,” You argue, shaking your head, “That’s what I’m trying to say. You should be with someone who understands without explanation. I just wanted to give that to you - didn’t know that this would happen.”

“I should be with someone who loves me,” He argues back, “If you love me, that’s all that matters. My past be damned.”

“But your past is you!” You try to pull away from Steve, but he anchors you there. You’re dizzy from being so close to him after this long, but also because of how many different twists this situation has taken. You can barely keep up with how bad your communication with Steve has become - barely keep up with how you need to fix it, or how to fix it. “Your past is you,” You repeat when you realize that Steve isn’t going to let you go. “And you shouldn’t have to give that up so that someone will love you.”

“But you love me,” He says desperately, ducking his head so that he’s nearly nose to nose with you, “You love me, right?”

“More than anything,” You say, closing your eyes and relishing in the feeling of being so close to Steve, “I love you more than I’ve ever loved anyone. I don’t care about what anyone else thinks, or anyone else. I’ll even stop goin’ to class if you want me to - Steve, I just can’t do this anymore. Can’t do this thing where you don’t talk to me about what’s botherin’ you.” You’re choking up, barely whispering, but you know he hears you. YOu can feel his warm breath on your face, “Nearly fuckin’ killed me.”

“I thought it was goin’ to be easier,” He breathes, nose bumping yours, “When you eventually decided to leave me for him. Thought I was savin’ myself some trouble.” You can practically taste his tears as they fall again, “Buck and Nat tried to tell me that you weren’t - that you wouldn’t - but I just couldn’t believe them.”

When you open your eyes, his are closed. This close to him you can see the soft freckles that are blooming over his eyelids, his soft eyelashes kissing his cheekbones. You can feel him breathing, feel him nearly pressed against you in a way that feels hauntingly nostalgic and terrifyingly fleeting; like you’ll be able to feel his warmth for years to come, but he’s about to disappear. “That’s okay,” You finally whisper, “It’s okay that you didn’t believe them. That you thought what you thought. It’s okay.” He shakes his head against yours, opening his mouth to protest, but you refuse to let him feel guilty about feeling this way - you have plenty of time to sit him down and talk to him candidly about the way he acted because of these feelings, anyway. “If I would have been in your place I’m not sure I would have believed them.”

“I treated you so badly…” He shifts and wraps his arms around you. It’s almost immediate - you relax into his arms and wind yours around his waist, keeping him pulled against you as he presses his face into your neck and you press your cheek against his chest. “So awfully.”

“We’ll talk about that, okay? But later. Right now you just need to know that I love you, Steve. I love you more than I can tell you - more than I can express.” You want to kiss him, but you can’t. Can’t kiss him, you need to wait for him to kiss you, for him to close that gap and show you that he still loves you like you love him. “We’ll have to have a talk, a long and hard conversation about this, Stevie, but for now… For now, I’m just content to be with you, okay? MIssed you so much.”

He sighs, nose pressing against yours again. “Missed you too, dovie. Missed you more than I can even say,” His voice breaks as his lips brush yours. Your relationship is not without its flaws and problems - Steve’s actions when he thought you were cheating on him are proof of that and, well, the fact that you didn’t realize what was happening, why it was happening, or a large part of your boyfriend’s psychological makeup having an impact on your relationship while it went unknown by you… There is a lot of work for the two of you to do, a lot of work to do, a lot of communication to be done… But you’d do it all for Steve, over and over again.

When he presses forward and presses his lips gently to yours, you know that he’ll do it all for you, over and over again, too.

#steve rogers imagine #steve rogers/reader #steve rogers x reader #marvel imagine #mcu imagine

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pretendicanwrite · 2 years ago

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Superstitions

Fic-o-ween prompt 1:

Superstitions

All character belong to @lumosinlove

Prompt belongs to @noots-fic-fests

CW: shattered glass

**********

“You’re kidding me, right? Seriously Leo?”

“I’m sorry Cap! I didn’t mean to!”

Hearing the screaming, Finn, Logan, and Remus all came rushing into cap’s and Loop’s kitchen.

Leo was backed up against the wall, with Sirius standing in front of him, in a sort of threatening way. Leo’s had his shoulder’s shrunk into himself, making him appear several inches shorter, allowing Cap to tower over him.

“Not that I really want to get in between this, but why are you yelling at my boyfriend?” Finn asked, moving to stand beside the rookie.

“He backed into an umbrella leaning against the backdoor and knocked it open, which proceeded to knock a mirror off of the wall. So not only did he open an umbrella indoors, he has now given himself 7 years of bad luck as well.”

Everyone in the room stared at the captain, looking at him as if he was crazy.

“Babe, we were going to get rid of that mirror anyway. You said you hated it now that the kitchen actually gets used.”

Sirius turned around, reaching out a hand to help Leo get away from the glass shattered across the floor. “That’s not the point. I don’t give a shit about the mirror, but we have a game tomorrow. We can’t have 7 years of bad luck cursing one of our players! We were on a winning streak!”

Logan slapped Sirius’s hand as he moved to set it on Leo’s shoulder. “Cap, we’re playing the Hufflepuffs tomorrow. I don’t want to sound like that guy, but we have pretty good chances. And anyway, it’s just a mirror. I’m sorry it got broken, but you don’t seriously believe that we’re going to lose tomorrow because of it, right?”

Sirius looked appalled that Logan would even suggest that this wasn’t serious. “I most absolutely do! Here hold on!” the captain pulled his phone out, and held out a finger to Logan as he went to speak. “So what I’m seeing here is that to break the curse we have to take a piece of the mirror and touch it to a tombstone almost immediately to reverse the effects.”

Everyone in the room laughed at him.

“Cap, not trying to judge you or anything, but don’t you think you’re taking this a little too far? I’m sorry, but I’m not going to a graveyard on Halloween eve to put a piece of glass on a grave.”

“Okay, maybe that one’s a little bit too far, but it says if you turn around three times, it should break the curse. It also says, throwing salt over your left shoulder should work.”

Remus patted Leo on the shoulder and whispered a quiet ‘good luck’ to him as he passed on his way to the broom cupboard.

“I am really really sorry that I broke your mirror Sirius, but I’m not participating in any of your rituals, thank you very much. Thank you for having us, but it’s really late and I think we should head home. If you want, you can text me how much the mirror was, and I will pay you back for it, but I don’t believe in all these curses.”

Leo and his boys made a move for the living room, and Sirius followed them. They chatted for a few more minutes, as they waited for Loops to appear, the subject of the mirror being ignored. When Remus finally joined them, Finn, Leo, and Logan left after a few goodbyes.

That night, while they were getting ready to go to bed, Leo’s face was suddenly taken over by an evil smile. “Gentlemen, I have an idea.”

He spent a while explaining his plan to the boys and even came up with some ideas to execute the next day at the pre-game practice.

As they walked in the next morning, Leo tripped right on the threshold between the locker room and the hallway. As he gathered himself and walked to his stall, he stubbed his toe on the bench as he moved to set his stuff down.

He let out a quiet curse and picked up his foot to rub the sore spot. He had already gathered mostly everyone's attention when he tripped, but hearing Leo curse was extremely rare, and everyone turned to look at him.

“Nutter-Butter, you okay?” Logan asked, moving towards his boyfriend.

“Stubbed my stupid toe.” Leo turned around, secretly looking at Cap to see his reaction. “This is the second time today. I ran into the counter this morning when I was making coffee.”

After everyone saw that their rookie was okay, they continued to get ready for practice, when Leo dropped his water bottle as he was taking a sip. The ice-cold water spilled right down the front of his shirt, and he let out a high-pitched yell, that he will forever deny was him.

“I mean this in the nicest way possible, what the hell is going on with you today rookie?” James asked, abandoning his task of putting on a shirt.

“I don’t know. This morning I got a call that my credit card was hacked, and everything has just been downhill from there. I swear it’s like nothing is going to go right today. I can feel it.”

Leo and his boys watched as Sirius’ eyes widened. They tried to contain their laughter and succeeded until Leo tripped over, fell to the ground on accident, and Sirius turned ghost white. This hadn’t been part of their plan, and they weren’t sure whether this was just an attempt to make Sirius even more superstitious, but they stopped laughing as soon as Leo grabbed his shoulder.

“I swear I didn’t mean to do that!” Leo also looked scared now, but he sat up, still gripping his shoulder.

Sirius turned around towards his stall, reaching towards the bag he brought every day for personal things. He kept whatever item he was carrying behind his back until he bent down next to the giant rookie. “Since none of ya’ll believed me about jinxes and curses last night,” Sirius made sure to mock Leo’s southern accent as he continued to talk to the blonde on the ground, “I brought some salt for you.”

“No thank you. I’m good.” Leo stood up and walked to the trainer's office, leaving Finn and Logan to deal with Sirius’s crazy antics.

“That boy just needs to admit that I’m right and he’s wrong. He’s definitely cursed.”

“Or,” Finn said, drawing it out, “He’s messing with you?”

Everyone in the room laughed again as Sirius glared at the two remaining cubs. “Leo doesn’t pull pranks on me. I’m his favorite besides you two.” As Sirius’s continued thinking about it, his words became even more unsure. “Ok, maybe with the tripping and credit card things, but he actually looked hurt when he fell. I think we should go check on him.”

The cubs, Cap, and Loops, all walked into the trainer's office just to find Leo sitting on his phone leaning against the corner.

“Babe, are you okay?” Logan asked walking over to his boyfriend.

“No, I dislocated my shoulder, elbow, and wrist. I can hardly move my arm,” Leo said with a straight face as he picked up a water bottle off the counter with it.

“Very funny mister. Now, we have a practice starting in about 10 minutes, and you don’t have a single piece of your gear on. Get going.” Finn ended his command with a loud slap on Leo’s behind, not even trying to contain his smile.

They ended up winning 4-0 against the Hufflepuffs, Leo getting a shutout, and shoving it in Cap’s face that he was right.

**********

Day one is done! I've been really behind, but the next four days are done, so I plan on posting them all tonight to catch up :)

#oknutzy #o'knutzy #finn o'hara #leo knut #lumosinlove #logan tremblay #sweater weather #coast2coast #c2c #coops #fic o ween 2022

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typical-simplelove · 3 years ago

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On Your Right (M. Tkachuk)

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

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

Word Count: 21.4k

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Matthew Tkachuk broke your heart at the age of ten.

. . .

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"You're serious?"

"Very."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"You don't have a boyfriend?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Home?"

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

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

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

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

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

. . .

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Why are you helping her, then?"

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

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

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

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

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

. . .

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

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

Matthew: You’ll love him.

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

. . .

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Okay?”

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

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

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

“Matthew, I don’t know.”

“Yn, come on. What’s stopping you?”

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

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

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

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

“Yeah, okay. We can fake date.”

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

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

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

. . .

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Fine, whatever. Agree to disagree?”

“Sure, sure, even though I’m right.”

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

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

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

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

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

“What do you want me to say?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I do know you.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Matthew nods. “Only in public.”

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

“Matthew —” you begin.

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

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

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

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

“Mmm,” he replies looking up.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“That we do,” you reply softly.

“I didn’t hurt you, right?”

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

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

“Mmhm?”

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

“Matthew!”

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

“How does it just slip out?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Doesn’t matter.”

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

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

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

. . .

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

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

You nodded, “Yeah, that would be me.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Do you want me to kiss you?”

“Would it be awkward if we didn’t?”

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

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

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

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

“We can go to your place, then.”

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

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

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

“Yeah, it was like ten minutes.”

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

“I walk to work, Matthew.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah, I’m fine, why?”

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

“Oh, no, I’m okay.”

“Promise?” Matthew asks.

“Promise,” you reply with a smile.

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah, I know, but —”

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

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

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

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

“Why?” Matthew furrows his eyebrows in confusion.

“I just, I don’t know.”

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

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

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

. . .

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

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

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

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

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

“Whatever,” Matthew rolls his eyes.

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

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

. . .

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

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

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

“Oh.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Thanks, Matthew.”

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

“Yes?” you turn to him.

“Your hair looks really pretty.”

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

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

. . .

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Can I stay the night?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

. . .

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

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

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

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

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

“You flatter me, Matthew.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

. . .

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I show zero mercy.”

. . .

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

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

You nod. “Just scary sometimes.”

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

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

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

. . .

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

“Yeah,” you yawn.

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

“Oh, we landed?”

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

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

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

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

. . .

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

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

“Matthew —”

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

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

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

“Oh,” you mumble. “Only one bed.”

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

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

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

“What’s the verdict?” Matthew asks.

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

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

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

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

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

It would be a restful night, right?

. . .

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

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

“How were your preparations?” he asks.

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

Matthew nods.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Night, Yn.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“About half an hour?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

. . .

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Okay,” you reply as you slip on your shoes and make your way towards the door. “Night, Matthew.”

You walk out the door before Matthew could respond. “Night,” he says even though it’s pointless. In his head, Matthew is replaying the vision of you walking out in your blush pink dress and how beautiful you looked. Matthew knows that whoever gets to be the one to call you their girlfriend will be the luckiest person in the world. He only wishes he were the one.

. . .

Matthew walks into the restaurant his family picked, still reeling from how beautiful you looked. It was at that moment when Matthew saw you when he realized he was truly gone. Matthew has dug himself into a hole that he knows he’s never going to get out of. Now that Matthew has experienced you as a date, in his arms in his apartment, at one of his games, kissing you, and sleeping next to you, Matthew knows that no one else will compare to you. He knows that when this ruse is over, he will be heartbroken beyond repair. Is he choosing to do something about it? Nope, not at all because to him, if he can have even a little bit of you, even if it’s under the guise of being fake, then he’ll take it.

He sits at the table his parents and siblings were already at and greets them. It’s not even two seconds after he sits before they all corner him about dating you.

“So, you and Yn, huh?” Brady smirks.

“Don’t start, please,” Matthew warns.

“I’ll start, then,” Taryn prompts. “I can’t believe you finally got Yn to date you after you’ve harbored a crush on her for all these years and hated her.”

“Can we not?” Matthew asks.

“Nope, not happening, we are going to question you about every single detail. Who knows, maybe you two will be the next ones to get married.”

“Okay, Taryn, take a step back,” Keith chuckles.

“I think you should take a step forward,” Brady prompts. “Considering how head over heels Matthew has been, Taryn’s right.”

Matthew just rolls his eyes and sighs. “Can we just order and have a normal meal, please?”

“This conversation isn’t over yet,” Taryn warns, and Matthew just rolls his eyes.

After deciding what to eat and ordering, Taryn was true to her word and began to question Matthew about his dating life. “How did it start? What was your first date like? Did Yn slap you when you first asked her out? I need details, Matthew!”

“Did you ever consider that Yn and I want privacy about our relationship?” Matthew snaps.

“Right, but this is the weirdest pairing ever, so I feel like I should get something out of you,” Taryn defends herself.

“There isn’t much to say. A few months back, Yn called me saying she needed a familiar face because she was homesick, so we met up. We realized that we liked each other and here we are.”

Chantal gives her son a curious look. That was the exact statement and explanation that you gave her when she called you a few weeks after she found out about you and Matthew. Either that was the reality of the situation or you both practiced this many times. Chantal thinks it’s probably the latter because she knows her son. She knows that if you and Matthew were for real, then he’d be telling everyone how much he liked you.

“That’s it? I thought there’d be more! Something more romantic or something,” Taryn pouts, and Matthew just shrugs. He wishes he could have made a more romantic story for how you both started dating because that’s what you deserve, but you wouldn’t have any of it.

“I agree with Taryn,” Brady adds. “Yn, as we know, is a hopeless romantic. I’m surprised you haven’t stepped up your game to match Yn’s romantic side.”

“Look, maybe we do have a romantic relationship, but we just want to keep it private,” Matthew growls.

“Alright, let’s just let the topic go,” Chantal interjects and inserts an out for Matthew. “Will you be sitting with us tomorrow?”

“During the ceremony, probably because Yn is part of the procession and all that. I’m not sure during the reception, though, because I think it’s open seating.”

“Okay, that’s understandable,” Chantal says just as their meals arrive. Matthew lets out a sigh of relief. He was able to keep the story about your ruse straight and evade any questions that could poke holes into the story. He could only wish that what was happening between you two was real.

. . .

Just as Matthew was getting interrogated by his family, your brother and Shelly were on their way to interrogate you. It was after the rehearsal, and everyone in attendance was at the restaurant catching up. Your brother walks over to you and whispers that Shelly wants to talk to you. Being the maid of honor, you figured that she needed help with last-minute wedding preparations. You weren’t expecting an ambush.

Your brother leads you to where Shelly’s sitting, and you expect him to leave. However, when he sits right next to you with Shelly across from you, you know that you’re getting interrogated.

“Don’t you have to go be with your pregnant wife?” you ask your brother pointedly hoping to get out of the conversation.

“No, she wants this information as much as I do,” he retorts.

“You and Tkachuk?” Shelly shrieks. Some of the other guests turn to the commotion but turn away when they see it’s only the bride getting excited about something. “I always knew he had the hots for you, but I wasn’t sure if he’d ever do anything about it. Wow, I’m impressed it didn’t take more time for it to happen.”

“What are you talking about?” Matthew never had the hots for you. This situation was purely platonic and aiding each other's social calendars.

“Oh, come on,” Shelly rolls her eyes. “You have to have known that Matthew was crazy in love with you in high school.”

“And that explains his treatment of me?”

“It’s what insecure guys do when they crush on someone who is way out of their league,” your brother explains. “For what it’s worth, you are way out of Matthew’s league, and the only reason that I haven’t confronted him is that I know him. But still, Matthew? Why him?”

“How did it start? Is he a good kisser? Does he make you smile like crazy? Is he the super romantic boyfriend that you’ve always wanted? Is he good in bed?” Shelby begins but is stopped by your brother making a disgusted look. He definitely didn’t want to think about you and Matthew sleeping together. “Sorry, I forgot you were here.”

“It’s alright,” he grumbles, and Shelly throws you a wink knowing that she’d ask you about this later.

“The other questions are still valid, though.”

“It started because I was homesick. I realized that I missed home and needed a familiar face, so I called Matthew. From there, we realized that there was something there between us,” you explain hoping that your brother and Shelly would accept the story.

“More like you finally realized it,” Shelly corrects. You were about to contradict her words, but wouldn’t that break the facade you and Matthew have built? “What about the rest of the stuff?”

You shrug.

“That’s it? There’s nothing else you can say about it?”

“I like keeping my relationship private,” you say softly hoping it came across as confident despite the guilt you felt lying to your brother and best friend.

“Sure, and did this happen before you and I talked about bringing a date to the wedding?” Shelly questions further. She knows that if you liked someone and were crazy about them, then you’d be talking about this person constantly. She isn’t buying the story.

“We started talking before, but we made our relationship official shortly after your call,” you lie, again. You make a mental note to tell Matthew this so that when Shelly did interrogate him, he’d have that information.

“But you insisted you didn’t have anyone to bring as a date,” Shelly points out.

“You also called me if any of my friends would want to bring you,” your brother points out smugly. You glare at him and kick him under the table.

“I wasn’t sure if bringing Matthew would be like cheating because I knew he was invited to the wedding,” you quickly retorted. Would that be enough to have them lay off you?

“Sure, sure,” Shelly begins. “Look, if your relationship is of convenience, you know, for pleasure, you can say that.”

What? “What?” you and your brother speak at the same time. She wasn’t interrogating you because she thought you and Matthew were faking. She thought you and Matthew had a friends-with-benefits relationship! Somehow, that calms your nerves and helps you relax.

“Oh, so it’s a real relationship,” Shelly says with a grin. “I was wrong?”

“Yes, it’s a real relationship,” you laugh.

“I mean, if it were a pleasure-seeking based relationship, then I’d also be okay with that because you do need to make yourself happy,” Shelly winks.

“Okay, I’m done here,” your brother immediately gets up and walks over to his wife. You and Shelly both giggle.

“Are you happy?” she asks.

You nod. “Yeah, I’m happy.”

“That’s good. I have to get back to bride duties. I know that I was shocked when you told me you were dating Tkachuk earlier and didn’t react the way you wanted me to, but I only did it because I don’t want you to get hurt. He treated you like crap when you were in high school, and I don’t want him to go back to that version of himself. You seem happy, though, so ignore me.”

Shelly kisses your forehead and finds her fiance. You knew you weren’t going to get hurt because what you were both doing was merely for show. You both weren’t actually dating, so there were no feelings to be hurt, but one thing stuck out to you. Matthew liked you in high school? You weren’t sure why that unsettled you so much, but it did. Why would he have treated you like crap if he liked you? Would you and Matthew hurt each other? What happens when you both end this ruse? You know you’ll miss the way Matthew could always put a smile on your face and bring out giggle after giggle from you. You’d miss the way his smile or hand in yours would make your heart burst and make you warm inside and out. Were you on the path to getting hurt?

. . .

As Keith and Brady are arguing about the bill, Matthew and Chantal step outside to wait for them, and Taryn is in the washroom.

“So, you and Yn?” Chantal begins.

“Mom,” Matthew groans.

“I find it funny that the story that you told tonight to us is exactly what Yn told me a few weeks ago.”

“It’s what happened, so it makes sense that Yn told you the same thing,” Matthew lies.

“Yeah, but it was the exact same story, Matthew.”

Matthew looks at his mother, and he knows that she’s read through fabrication. “We both needed dates for things, so we thought we’d pretend to date to make it easier on both of us,” Matthew mumbles.

Chantal looks at her son and sees the forlorn expression on his face. “But you like her.”

“I’m pretty sure I’m in love with her, mom,” Matthew says sadly as if he finally realized the hopelessness of the situation.

“Why don’t you just tell her?”

“Because, mom, it’s like Taryn was saying earlier and why it shocks you so much. I treated Yn like crap when we were growing up, and I’m pretty sure she hates me.”

“But you love her.”

“I never hated her; I just didn’t know what to do with my feelings. I’m screwed, aren’t I?”

“I don’t know,” Chantal admits. Her heart breaks as she watches her son run his hands through his hair sadly as he admits to feelings. “I haven’t seen you both around each other, but who knows, maybe Yn does feel the same way.”

“No, I know for a fact she doesn’t. It’s okay, at least I have this,” Matthew says. Keith and Brady walk out of the restaurant at that moment with Taryn close on their heels. Keith slaps Matthew’s back and asks what Matthew was talking about. Matthew shrugs it off with a curt “nothing.” Matthew didn’t want the rest of his family to know about the reality of his dating life. He also knows that you’d rather not let that information come out.

“On Sunday, you and Yn should come over for dinner,” Chantal suggests. “Like tradition.”

“I’ll ask Yn,” Matthew answers.

“It’s not a request, Matthew,” Chantal says and walks with her husband. Well, then you and Matthew are going to dinner at the Tkachuk’s on Sunday.

. . .

The next morning after the rehearsal, you had to force yourself to pull yourself out of Matthew’s embrace. You’ve both woken up in the same entanglement as the morning before, but this time, you liked it. You enjoyed the warmth and comfort his hold produced. You groan as you get out of bed and walk to the washroom in the cold away from Matthew. You had to be up early to get things ready for the makeup artist, hairdresser, and photographer. You briefly washed your face and brushed your teeth before throwing on a pair of leggings and your “I Do Crew” t-shirt that was made for you. You grab your dress, shoes, and jewelry before heading over closer to the bed to grab your phone and purse. You place everything down and kiss Matthew on the forehead. You smiled at how peaceful and cute he looked as he was still sleeping.

If only it were real.

. . .

When Matthew’s alarm went off a few hours later, he moved closer to your pillow hoping to hold you for a little bit longer. When his head hits your cold pillow, Matthew’s chipper mood deflates when he realizes you’re not gone. He knows that you had to leave early for wedding preparations, but it still hurts knowing that you weren’t there to wake up next to him. In the past few days, Matthew has gotten used to waking up next to you. He isn’t sure what he’s going to do when you both return to your normal lives and he can no longer wake up next to you.

. . .

“Well, you look nice, Matthew,” Chantal says as Matthew sits in the row next to his family. Matthew straightens his tie. His leg is bouncing up and down in nervousness. Chantal observes her son from the corner of her eye and smiles at his actions.

“Have you seen Yn yet today?” Chantal leans over and asks. Matthew shakes his head no; he was nervous to see you. Matthew got a glimpse of your bridesmaid’s dress, and he knows you’re going to be just as beautiful, if not more, than the night of the rehearsal.

Matthew and his family continue to chat quietly, and everyone in the crowd abruptly ends their conversations as Shelly’s groom heads to the front of the aisle. In a matter of seconds, the orchestra begins to play the “Wedding March”, and everyone turns their heads to the aisle awaiting the procession. The groomsmen process down the aisle and take their places. Following the groomsmen are the bridesmaids. As each woman processes down the aisle and takes their places, Matthew is confused when he doesn’t see you among them. Matthew assumes, though, that because you’re the maid of honor, you have something special to do.

Matthew’s suspicions are confirmed when you walk down the aisle in your blush, floor-length, off-the-shoulder dress with your right hand holding the hand of the flower girl and your left hand holding a bouquet. As you walk down the aisle, Matthew is entranced by you. He stops breathing and blinking as he watches you. He watches as you lead the flower girl to her place and stand behind her. When everyone’s attention is turned to Shelly and her father walking down the aisle, Matthew’s attention is focused on you. He knew you were beautiful, but you were beautiful. There isn’t any difference between the two words, Matthew knows, but the latter word somehow means more. Matthew keeps telling himself it’s the dress, but he knows it’s not just the dress. It’s the person wearing the dress. It’s the way your face glowed from happiness at the new couple and the makeup you had on. It was the way your hair flowed impeccably in the breeze. It’s the way you looked amazing in that dress that had Matthew frozen. You were the most beautiful person Matthew has ever seen, and he didn’t want to look away.

When you catch Matthew’s eye, he swears he died and came back to life. You smile softly at him, but he doesn’t do anything. He just stands there staring at you as the officiant continues to talk. Chantal notices you trying to stifle a giggle and turns to her son to see if he had anything to do with it. When she sees Matthew just staring at you, she elbows him.

“Smile at her,” Chantal directs. That, it seemed, was what finally took Matthew out of his trance. He blinks and takes a deep breath right before sending you his signature smile. You shake your head playfully when you notice that Chantal had to remind him to smile and pay attention. You turn your attention back to the ceremony happening right in front of you as the officiant directs everyone to sit. You also try to ignore the hole it feels like Matthew (and the rest of the Tkachuks) were burning into the back of your head.

Because you were the maid of honor, you were one of the official witnesses and had to stand behind the bride. Through it all, Matthew was watching you. He was captivated by you, enamored by you. You met his eye a few times and had to force yourself not to laugh as a blush overcame his face and he turned away. Taryn, thinking that the next wedding she’d be attending was between you and Matthew, was watching the interactions between you two. The first time she watched you looked constipated as you tried to hide a giggle, she knew Matthew was the reason. After the second time, Taryn made sure to keep an eye on Matthew, too, so he could watch his reaction. Normally, in relationships, Matthew was confident, cocky, and full of himself. He was always the one to make the person he was dating speechless, shy, and look away bashfully. This time, though, you were the one in control, overtaking Matthew’s usual position. This time, Matthew was the one who was smiling bashfully and looking away whenever you’d meet his eye.

Taryn noticed that you stopped turning your attention to Matthew when the vows began to focus on the bride and groom. That doesn’t mean, though, that Matthew was paying attention to the happy couple. He was still watching you.

“Hey, Matthew,” Taryn leans over her mother and whispers.

That seems to take Matthew out of his trance as he rolls his eyes at his sister's words. “What?”

“Stop staring at your girlfriend. You’re trying to get her to marry you, not run away from you.”

“Taryn,” Chantal warns. Matthew doesn’t say anything except to stare ahead. This time, though, he doesn’t place his eyes on you. No, he places his eyes on the couple hoping to get his family off his case. He didn’t want to face the reality of the situation that Matthew wasn’t trying to get you to marry him despite him knowing you were the one. He hoped to ignore the true reason why Matthew was here as your date and not as a family friend. During the rest of the ceremony, Matthew doesn’t look at you once. He opts to look at the couple, the officiant, or the beauty of the outdoor venue. He hopes that by not looking at you, Matthew can escape the reality that he’s in love with you and you, it seems, are not.

When the ceremony ends and the couple walks down the aisle, you and the rest of the wedding party are getting ready to take photos during the Cocktail Hour. You try to make your way to find Matthew and see him because you missed him, but every time it seemed you had a chance, he was busy or was avoiding you.

Eventually, the Cocktail Hour was over and everyone was heading into the location of the reception. After you’ve made your rounds, you look around to see where Matthew was or your brother. You weren’t sure who you were going to sit with, but you were hoping to sit next to Matthew, though. You weren’t sure why Matthew was in a sour mood, but you knew you caused it. You only hoped he wasn’t too mad at you.

“Hey, you look beautiful,” Brady says as he walks up to you. He is holding a fresh drink in his hand, so you assume he was coming from the bar.

“Thank you,” you murmur, wondering if Matthew was around, too.

“Matthew, don’t you think so, too?” Brady says, and you turn your head to where Brady was directing his question to.

“Hi,” you whisper when your eyes lock with Matthew’s. You see anger in his eyes and are suddenly worried that Matthew is truly upset at you. However, Matthew’s face softens when you send him a soft smile, and the anger leaves his face.

“Are you sitting with us?” Brady asks.

“Of course, she’s sitting with us,” Matthew says and walks over to and wraps an arm around your waist. “She’s my girlfriend.”

You smile and let Matthew lead you to where his family is sitting. Matthew pulls out a chair for you to sit in, and he pushes it in for you. Matthew takes the seat next to you, and you’re suspicious that it was Brady’s when he grumbled about sitting in the chair next to you. Immediately upon sitting, Matthew places his hand on your thigh and scoots his chair closer to yours.

As the night carried on, Matthew never took his hand off your thigh, and he constantly whispered in your ear asking if you were okay. If you needed a refill on a drink, Matthew always went to the bar to get you a refill and insisted you shouldn’t have to get up. He always returned by placing the drink on the table and placing a kiss on your forehead.

When he returned with your third or fourth refill of the night, you smiled at him as he sat down and told him, “You know, I’m starting not to hate you anymore.”

Matthew looks at you sadly at your words. You still had animosity towards him? He thought he’s been working so hard to change your opinion of him, but it seems it's just barely working. You notice the strain and sadness in Matthew’s pout and wonder if you did something wrong. You place your hand on his thigh and look into his eyes. The minute your hand touched his thigh, Matthew was fine. It didn’t matter what you said because he knows he cares about you, and he knows that deep down, you care for him, too, despite your words.

“You okay?” you ask.

“Of course,” he says with a smile. “I’m sitting next to the prettiest person in the world; why wouldn’t I be okay?”

You smile at Matthew’s words and rest your head on his shoulder. What were you going to do when you and Matthew no longer could be like this? You knew you were going to miss it.

. . .

As the reception is nearing the final hours, everyone’s moods have turned more casual and laid back, including you and Matthew. Both of your chairs were right up against each other with you leaning heavily against Matthew with your head resting on his chest. His hand was wrapped around your shoulders and was rubbing small patterns on your shoulder. You and Matthew are talking to Brady and Taryn when a slow song, one of your favorites, begins to play. You perk up slightly, wondering if you should ask Matthew to dance with you.

“Hey, Yn, isn’t this one of your favorite songs?” Brady instigates.

“Oh, yeah, I guess it is,” you reply, and Matthew looks down at you softly.

“Do you want to dance, Yn?” Matthew asks. You nod and slowly pull away so he can lead you to the dance floor. You and Matthew position yourselves so that your hands are resting just below his neck with his resting on your mid-back. You both sway to the song, and you’re both entranced with each other’s eyes. As the song continues, Matthew’s hands slowly rise up to the bare skin of your upper back. He begins to stroke soft patterns on your skin, and it sends chills up your spine. You pull yourself closer to Matthew to try to use his warmth to evade the chills. You run your fingers through the hair at the nape of Matthew’s neck, and you see his Adam’s apple bob in his throat.

As the song comes to an end, Matthew licks his lips and leans his head towards yours. He pulls his head back slightly. Was this appropriate? He didn’t have the chance to further contemplate kissing you because you pulled away and led him back to the table. His one true regret that evening is that he didn’t kiss you. He wanted to kiss you. He wanted to kiss you badly, and he wanted nothing more than to kiss you and tell you how much he loves you.

He knows he’s dug himself into a hole he will never get out of.

. . .

“What are you doing today?” Matthew asks as you’re getting ready for the day. Based on his tone, you know something’s up, and you have to agree with whatever it is.

“Why?” you ask nervously.

“Would you want to go to my parents’ house for Sunday dinner? Like pastimes?”

You turn to face Matthew and smirk at him. “I feel like I don’t have a choice here.”

“My mom said that I had to bring you, no negotiations, so yeah, you have no choice.”

You laugh. “Okay, I can go to your parents’ for Sunday dinner, but I know my parents and brother won’t be there. They have plans tonight.”

“What are you going to do for the rest of the day, then?” Matthew asks knowing he wants to spend the day with you.

“I’m going to visit some friends from high school; what are you doing?”

“Just hanging around. Nothing much.”

“Okay then, why don’t I meet you back here, and then we can head over to your parents’ house?”

“Perfect,” Matthew says and turns away from you to go shower. On his face, he’s wearing a wide smile. He only hoped that you were just as excited as he was.

. . .

Unlike when you were growing up, you didn’t stay outside with the boys while Chantal and Keith got dinner together. This time, you and Taryn were in the kitchen helping Chantal cook while Brady and Matthew were out at the grill helping Keith. Now and then, you’d look out the backyard window and notice Matthew. Sometimes, he’d meet your eye and wink at you, and your face would grow warm. Or, sometimes, he wouldn’t be looking at you, but you saw him turn his head away as if he was just looking at you. Sometimes, he didn’t notice you looking at all, and you loved watching him interact with his dad and brother.

“He seems lighter when he’s around you,” Chantal comments after noticing you and Matthew staring at each other for the gazillionth time that afternoon.

“How so?” you ask.

“He’s nice,” Taryn says blatantly.

“Taryn,” Chantal scolds, and you can’t help but smile.

“I’m not wrong,” she defends.

Chantal rolls her eyes. “All I’m trying to say is, you guys are good for each other. It’s about time you both realized the dynamic you both have after years of animosity between you two.”

“Who knows, maybe we’ll finally be sisters,” Taryn jokes, hinting at the possibility of marriage. The smile on your face fades as you remember that you and Matthew aren’t dating. The smile fades knowing that you and Matthew wouldn’t ever get married, and when this ruse was over, many more people would get hurt than you both anticipated.

“Anyways, let’s go eat, yeah?” Chantal approaches. “Taryn, you put the salad on the plate and tell the boys we’re ready. Yn, you can help me scoop the other sides, okay?”

You were about to take the potato salad out to the table, but Chantal grabs your shoulder lightly and signals you to hold back for a moment.

“Just know, Matthew cares deeply for you,” she advises. “At the end of the day, he’s crazy about you; don’t forget that.”

You don’t have the words to say anything in response, so you just nod. Chantal seems to think you fully understand her words, so she walks out to the backyard. You don’t. What could she be talking about? Did she know that you and Matthew weren’t dating? You thought you both put up a pretty good act.

Opting to try to enjoy the evening, you place your worries to the back of your head and walk out to the patio. Just as you’re placing the potato salad on the table, Brady is placing the grilled corn on the table, too. Taryn’s already taken her usual seat, and because it’s a smaller crowd, Chantal has taken the seat where your brother would normally sit. Following tradition, you sit next to Taryn, and Brady takes the seat next to you. Keith has taken his seat and says that Matthew has gotten to grab a refill of drinks for you and him.

“Brady, move,” Matthew growls to his brother from behind you. You perk your head up and turn to see Matthew glaring at his brother.

“What? No! Go sit somewhere else. I’m already sitting here,” Brady says in retaliation and annoyance. He shakes his head and mutters a comment to you asking how you put up with him. You stifle a giggle knowing that the look in Matthew’s eyes was of determination, and the ordeal wasn’t over yet.

“Brady, I said, move,” Matthew says more forcefully.

“Why can’t you sit somewhere else? You never sit here.”

“Brady, move,” Matthew growls again.

“Why don’t you sit here, Matthew?” Taryn asks, trying to diffuse the situation. It was clear that Matthew wanted to sit next to you.

“No, I want Brady to move.”

“I’m not going to,” Brady is firm in his words. “Seriously, Yn, how do you deal with him sometimes?”

You don’t say anything, but Matthew does and is still incessant on Brady moving. “Brady, move and sit somewhere else. I want to sit next to my girlfriend.”

Brady stands up and stares at his brother. Looking at Matthew’s face, Brady knows that Matthew won’t give up on his endeavor, so Brady sighs and proceeds to get up. Brady goes and sits in his old normal seat, and Matthew sits next to you. He places a glass of water on the table for himself (he already had one beer but was driving, so he had to be safe) and lemonade for you. “Thank you, Brady,” Matthew says softly once he’s situated.

Brady grumbles in reply and mutters about how annoying Matthew was. You place your hand on Matthew’s thigh and lean over to whisper in his ear, “You didn’t have to force Brady to move, you know. It’s fine if we don’t sit next to each other.”

“It’s not fine,” Matthew whispers into your ear. “I wanted to sit next to my girlfriend, so I was going to sit next to my girlfriend.”

You open your mouth to say how it was all a ruse but decide against it.

“Shall we eat?” After observing her two sons spar over a seat and Matthew melt as he whispers into your ear, Chantal finally says.

Conversation, as everyone eats, varies from the wedding from the previous night to Taryn going to college to the upcoming season to your job. You loved how normal it was and how it was like before. It felt like before you and Matthew turned ten started hating each other. It was like when you were both young and the idea of marrying each other was still a thing. It was the way life was supposed to be had Matthew not started hating you at the age of ten. As you were both eating, Matthew always had a hand on you. Whether it was on your thigh or around your shoulder, Matthew was always touching you, and his family noticed completely.

“You know, when Matthew told us you were both dating, I was truly shocked. I was surprised you would ever go for him, Yn, considering you are way out of his league,” Brady says out of nowhere and tries to get back at his brother.

“Brady,” Keith warns.

“He’s not wrong, though,” Taryn points out, not realizing the true intentions of Brady's words. “As much as I love you, Matthew, Yn is completely out of your league.”

You notice Matthew stiffening up next to you, and you place your hand on his thigh to try to calm him down.

“I’m just surprised you even gave him a chance considering Matthew hated you for like half your life.”

“Taryn,” Chantal warns. Taryn looks up at her mother and shrugs in confusion.

“I never hated, Yn,” Matthew defends. “I’m not sure where you guys are getting that from.”

“How about the fact that — ow!” Brady is stopped as Chantal kicks him under the table. An awkward silence fills the table as everyone finishes up their meals. What did Matthew mean when he said he never hated you? His actions definitely showed it. Did he still hate you? All these questions swirled in your head as Taryn volunteers you and her for clearing the table. You move in autopilot as you clear the table still trying to figure out the meaning of Matthew’s words.

“I’m sorry for my comments out there,” Taryn apologizes. “I didn’t mean to say anything hurtful.”

“Don’t worry,” you tell her with a smile. “I wasn’t offended, but I think Matthew could use an apology more than me.”

“Nah, he’ll be fine. He’s got thick skin, and it’s not like I said anything he didn’t know.”

“Mmm,” you say, not sure how to respond.

“I’ve never seen Matthew so protective over someone before. Is possessive the right word? I don’t know, but I don’t think he’s ever been like that. If he would challenge Brady to something and wouldn’t immediately get his way, then he’d just drop the subject or physically fight Brady. He didn’t do either of those things. There’s something about you, Yn, that brings out a different side to Matthew,” Taryn points out as she’s rinsing the dishes, and you place them in the dishwasher.

“Interesting,” you say, again, not sure how to respond

“It’s a good thing. You’re both good for each other.”

. . .

You and Matthew say goodbye to Chantal, Keith, Brady, and Taryn two hours later and head back to the hotel you were staying at. Chantal couldn’t understand why you guys didn’t just stay with them before you flew back to Calgary the next morning. You weren’t sure how to explain that you’re not dating her son, and you needed some time to unwind and not have to be Matthew’s pretend girlfriend for extended periods of time.

As you’re driving to the hotel, you and Matthew sit in silence. Now and then, Matthew would shift in his seat in discomfort. You could tell he was still upset from Brady’s and Taryn’s comments. You reach your hand across the center console and place it on his thigh. You hear Matthew’s breath halt at the touch, and you’re confused at the sound.

“Matthew, are you okay?” you ask softly. “Don’t take Brady’s and Taryn’s words too seriously.”

“Yeah, but —”

“Matthew, don’t,” you interrupt as he stops at a red light. He turns to you, and his heart melts at how the lights on the street illuminate your face. He nods at your words, and suddenly, he wasn’t sad or frustrated anymore. The drive continues in silence, but your hand doesn’t leave his thigh. You have one lingering thought, though. “Matthew?”

“Mmm?” he asks.

“What did you mean when you said earlier that you didn’t hate me?”

“I didn’t realize there was anything to say. I don’t hate you,” Matthew says blatantly.

“Yeah, but you did hate me.”

Matthew laughs sourly. “Why do you think that even though I’ve told you that I didn’t hate you?”

“You were such a pest to me after we turned ten.”

“That didn’t mean I hated you, Yn.”

“Then why were you such a pest?” you ask.

“Because I had a giant crush on you when we were ten.”

“You had a what?” you asked, shocked, as Matthew drives into a parking space.

“A crush when we were ten,” Matthew answers and walks out of the car. He walks over to your side and opens the door for you. You step out of the car still reeling for his confession. “Don’t worry, Yn, I don’t have a crush on you anymore, so don’t worry.”

“Good,” you reply quietly. You aren’t sure why you are so upset at Matthew’s words, but you are. Did you have a crush on Matthew, now?

. . .

You’re standing in front of the mirror placing the final touches on your makeup and hair as you get ready to fly back to Calgary. You vaguely notice Matthew sitting in the chair behind you. You figured he was looking at his phone or watching the TV that was on. You lift your eyes to glance at the boy in question. Just as your eyes meet his face, Matthew looks up, and his eyes land right on yours. You stop moving, too entranced in his gaze. Matthew sends you a soft smile, and you mirror his smile. He sends you a wink, and your eyes instantly dart away from him. You continue getting ready, and you try to ignore the heat that rushed to your face and the rapid beating of your heart.

. . .

“I brought pizza and beer, is that good?” you say as you walk into Matthew’s kitchen. It was his first night back in Calgary since you said goodbye at the airport after the wedding, and he wanted to spend the night with you.

“That’s perfect,” he says and takes everything out of your hands.

You take your shoes off and walk further into this apartment. “Oh, looks like you cleaned.”

Matthew looks around the apartment and scratches the back of his neck. He turns to you, and you see a slight blush lining his cheeks. “Yeah, well, no one likes to live in a pigsty.”

You raise your eyebrow at his words. “What version of Matthew is this? The high school version of Matthew had the most disgusting bedroom ever.”

“Oh, shut up,” Matthew rolls his eyes and throws a napkin at you. You swat at it and begin to giggle. Matthew takes a piece of pizza and places it on a plate for you and opens a bottle of beer for you. You take it out of his hands with a soft “thank you” and walk over to his kitchen table. He places his plate and beer on the table and places his hands on your hips; your breath catches in your throat at his touch, and Matthew swears his heart started to beat a hundred times faster at the sound. He guides you towards the couch. “We’re sitting on the couch to eat.”

“But, Matthew,” you say after regaining your voice. You watch him grab his beer and plate from the table where he placed it and sits next to you.

“Nope, we’re not at Yn’s house. We’re at Matthew’s house, so we eat on the couch when we’re having a movie night.”

“Matthew,” you begin again.

He shakes his head as he takes a sip. “Don’t. I can’t eat this once training camp and the season starts, so let’s just enjoy it, okay?”

You nod and take a bite out of your pizza. Why did your breath hitch out of your throat when Matthew touched you? He’s touched you before, but why was it different this time?

. . .

“How about these?” Matthew asks as he holds a bag of chips in front of your face.

You shake your head. “I don’t like that flavor, and I already bought a bag of chips.”

“Maybe you should buy them for me, this lovely person who you forced to go grocery shopping with you.”

“That is not what happened, Matthew, and you know that,” your point out.

Matthew walks over to you and entraps you from where you’re standing at your shopping cart. He places his hands on the bar on your sides so you can’t move. He leans his head towards your ear and whispers, “Then tell me what happened.”

“You know what happened,” you murmur, trying to hide the fact that Matthew’s actions and words were sending chills down your spine.

“But I want you to tell me,” he whispers again into your ear.

“You showed up at my apartment just as I was about to leave,” you swallow before continuing, “and you insisted on coming with me, and here we are.”

“I don’t recall that being how it happened,” Matthew says against your neck, and the vibrations warm your entire body. You figure if Matthew was going to mess with you in the middle of the snack aisle at the grocery store, you might as well do the same. You wrap your arms around his neck and pull his face closer to yours. Your lips are micrometers from his, and you can tell that Matthew is nervous.

“That’s exactly how I remember it happening,” you say against his lips and with each word you said, your lips touching Matthew’s. Out of instinct and preparation for a kiss, Matthew places his hands on your waist, and you smirk, knowing you have him right where you want him. You run your hands up through his hair, and Matthew’s hold on you becomes limp. You lean closer, if possible, to him, and Matthew thinks you’re going to kiss him. Just when you would’ve leaned forward and kiss Matthew, you pull back and escape from where Matthew has you entrapped. You’re standing a few feet away from him, and you notice Matthew still in his trance. “You coming?”

That seems to take him out of his trance, and he nods and pushes the shopping cart to follow you. Matthew isn’t sure what happened, but he knows that whatever did just happen sent Matthew to heaven.

. . .

“What are you wearing?” Taryn asks you when you sit down next to her.

“Oh, this old thing?” you say, pretending to be oblivious.

“Matthew’s going to hate it considering you’re his girlfriend, who the Flames are playing, and what you’re not wearing.”

“I’m counting on it.”

“You are such a pest like Matthew. No wonder you guys are so good to each other,” Taryn rolls her eyes.

“You’re lucky we won or you’d have hell brought down upon you,” Matthew says when you’re standing outside the locker room after the game.

“I didn’t know you knew the devil personally,” you joke.

“Why did you have to wear Brady’s jersey, Yn? The day that I play the Sens, you are wearing the wrong brother’s jersey.”

You shrug but have a knowing smirk on your face. “I felt like it.”

Matthew groans when he sees Brady walking over to you and him. “Nice jersey,” Brady smirks.

“Thank you. Too bad you guys lost.”

“Seriously?” Matthew’s mouth’s agape.

“Oh shut up, you know I cheered for you when you scored,” you say and link arms with Brady as you head towards Chantal and Keith. “It worked. I pissed him off,” you whisper to Brady.

“You guys are so weird,” Brady chuckles. Matthew just stands behind you and Brady and is trying to figure out what just happened and how he’s going to get back at you.

. . .

When you showed up to the Senators-Flames game wearing Brady’s jersey, Matthew knew he had to think of a way to get back at you. After a week-long road trip and coming home at 2 am, Matthew wanted nothing more than to go home and sleep. He also wanted nothing more in the world to see you and to get back at you. When he got in his car to drive home, Matthew realized he had the perfect plan to get back at you. He knows that something you value deeply is your sleep, so because you messed with something important to Matthew, he was going to mess with something important to you.

Matthew drives to your apartment from the airport and parks in the parking spot next to your car. He isn’t sure why he thought you didn’t have a car and why you don’t drive it to work, but here your car is. He walks into the lobby of your building and waves to the nightguard working the night shift. He takes the elevator up to your floor and walks up to your door. He takes a deep breath and begins to aggressively ring your doorbell. He hopes that you wake up and none of your neighbors do.

The ringing continues for twenty seconds before you realize it’s not your alarm. You sit up for a few moments when you realize that it’s someone at the door. When the ringing doesn’t stop, you get worried that something’s wrong. You rush over to the door and open it. “Is everything okay?” you blurt out before noticing who’s the one ringing your doorbell.

“No, I have a very important message for you,” Matthew says with a smirk grazing his face.

“What happened? Is everything okay?” you’re worried now. You’re still barely awake, and if you were, you probably would have noticed the smirk on Matthew’s face.

“It’s an important message. Ready for it?”

“Yeah, yeah, just tell me!”

“Hi.”

“Hi? That’s it? Matthew, you rang my door like a lunatic and made me worry that something was seriously wrong. What’s wrong with you?”

“You wore Brady’s jersey to my hockey game.”

“So you decide to pull this shit?” you’re angry now, and Matthew realizes he made a mistake.

“I’m sorry. I also wanted to see you,” he mumbles.

You sigh and pull him into your apartment. “Then call me instead of halfway giving me a heart attack.”

Matthew nods and follows you into your apartment. He puts his bag down by the door and takes his shoes off.

“I’m going back to sleep, but you can change and shower in my washroom and join me when you’re ready. I’m not staying awake; I’m too tired.”

Matthew is shocked that you’re doing this. Matthew woke you at 2 in the morning just because and you’re opening your home for him despite it. Matthew will never take your friendship for granted ever again.

. . .

“Matthew, are we still fake dating?” you ask out of nowhere. It’s been months since the wedding, and you weren’t sure if you and Matthew still had that title. Recently, you both had been hanging out together, but it didn’t seem like “dating”. It was “friend” hangouts, and you were both disappointed and happy with it.

“Why do you ask?” Matthew asks. He doesn’t want to fake date you anymore; he wants to real date you, but he isn’t sure if you want that, too.

“Because,” you hesitate.

“Because, why?”

“I went out with some friends the other night and this guy was hitting on me, and I turned him down because I didn’t know if we were still under the ruse of dating.”

“Oh,” Matthew says dejectedly. “Don’t worry, if you see him, or anyone else, who’s hitting on you, then you can say yes. We, as of this moment, are just friends and no longer fake dating.”

You nod. “What do we tell people? Like, Shelly or your family?”

Matthew shrugs. “We realized we were better off friends. We went from the extreme of not being able to be around each other to the extreme of always being around each other and realized it doesn’t work.”

“Okay,” you say. You weren’t sure why you were so upset with Matthew’s response.

After the conversation, you head home about an hour later with your head still reeling from Matthew’s words. Just friends, he said, but you didn’t want that, did you? You wanted Matthew in every way that you could. You wanted him next to you when you woke up and when you fell asleep. You wanted good morning kisses, good night kisses, and just kisses in between that. You wanted Matthew because you liked him. You wanted Matthew because, in the months of fake dating, you fell for him. You fell for Matthew Tkachuk, the one boy you never thought you’d fall for, and the one boy who doesn’t want you like that.

. . .

You went out with Matthew and the team to celebrate another win. This time, you wore Matthew’s jersey, and you swore Matthew’s smile grew wider when he saw you in it. The celebration at the bar thus far has been fun. You weren’t sure if the team knows you and Matthew “broke up”, but it doesn’t matter because Matthew was still being touchy with you, and you hoped that you were hiding your feelings for Matthew well.

“I’m going to go get some refills for us, okay? Same drink for you?” Matthew whispers into your ear. You visibly shiver at his action, and you know Matthew noticed. You nod, not trusting your words. To try to ignore how you’re feeling, you immerse yourself in conversation with the group. It works, you think, but when you look up and see the back of Matthew’s head, your heart begins to beat rapidly. You needed to figure out how to get your emotions in check if you’re going to continue to be hanging out as friends with Matthew.

“So, you and Matthew have been going strong, huh?” Annica says when she notices you staring at Matthew. You snap your attention back to the woman. Matthew must not have told the team that you and he “broke up”. You guess that would be a weird conversation to have. You doubted Matthew said something along the lines of, “Yes, we broke up, but I’m going to keep bringing Yn around. Why? Well, we were never really dating, and now we are just friends. Yeah, it’s weird, but just go with it.”

“Oh, um, yeah,” you reply, hoping that Annica didn’t read too much into your words.

“I can tell he’s crazy about you and that he —,” Annica is interrupted by Elias bringing her another glass of wine and conversation changes. You look back at Matthew to try to figure out the meaning of Annica’s words. Just as your eyes land on Matthew’s head, he turns around, as if sensing your gaze, and meets your eyes. He smiles at you, and you instantly feel the tears falling from your eyes. You try to blink them away, but when Matthew begins to rush over to you, you know that he noticed. You excuse yourself from the group and rush out of the bar.

“Yn, yn,” Matthew calls out to you. He catches up to you with his long strides and places his hand gently on your shoulder. You turn to face him and feverishly wipe the tears away. “Yn, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” you lie.

“I didn’t know we cry over nothing now, but thanks for letting me know,” Matthew jokes, but it doesn’t do anything to make you feel better. “What’s wrong?”

“I can’t be your friend anymore; it just hurts too much to be your friend when I want more,” you blurt out and walk away. Matthew is too stunned at your words to follow after you. You want more? Since when? Matthew doesn’t come to his senses to chase after you until you’re getting into your car to drive home. What does he do now?

. . .

“Yn, yn, yn, I know you’re in there,” Matthew yells as he aggressively knocks on your apartment door the next day. “Yn, please. I just want to talk to you.

You angrily stalk to the door and open it. “What, Matthew? Maybe you should have taken a hint when I didn’t open the door the first eighteen times you knocked on it.”

“Yeah, well, we need to talk, so it doesn’t matter if I was knocking on your door for hours, I’m going to talk to you.”

“Matthew, there’s nothing to say,” you tell him through gritted teeth hoping not to let it show how much you wanted to cry at that moment.

“Like hell, there’s nothing to talk about,” Matthew aggressively replies as he runs his hands through his hair. “You can’t just say that and leave, you know. You’ve had me going crazy, Yn!”

“Well, it’s not like you feel the same way or want the same thing,” you mumble, looking at the ground.

“Are you kidding me? I’ve wanted this since I was ten!” Matthew replies incredulously.

“But you told me you didn’t like me anymore!”

“That’s because I thought you didn't like me like that.”

“Well, I do like you like that, Matthew.”

He takes a step closer to you and looks into your eyes. “That entire time we were fake dating? I was imagining it was real. I was doing everything in my power to make it real so that I could have that experience of being with you because I thought I’d never had a chance with you. Like my parents said, you are completely out of my league, so I was extremely honored that you ever wanted to fake date me.”

“I don’t want to fake date you.”

“I don’t want to fake date you, either,” Matthew chuckles.

“Oh, good,” you reply and look down at your feet. “I want to be your real girlfriend.”

Matthew laughs at your words. “That’s what not wanting to fake date means.”

“Oh, right,” you giggle at yourself.

“So, if I put my hands on your waist and kiss you, is that okay?”

“That’s more than okay, Matthew,” you tell him with a smile and place your hands on his face to bring him closer to you. Matthew smiles at your words and leans his head towards yours. You both softly placed your lips on each other before deepening the kiss. It wasn’t the first kiss you both shared, but it was the first time you kissed each other with your feelings on display. You both deepen the kiss, and Matthew pulls you into him. You run your fingers through the hair at the nape of Matthew’s neck, and you giggle at the small moan that leaves him. His moan and your giggle cause you both to pull back. Matthew gives you a pointed look.

“Great, our first kiss ends like that.”

You giggle again. “It’s not our first kiss, Matthew.”

“Still,” he pouts.

“Don’t worry,” you tease. “There will be many, many kisses in our future.”

“I’m going to hold you to that,” Matthew says with a grin and pulls you in for another kiss.

The get-together wasn’t perfect or what anyone expected, but it was your story, and you wouldn’t have it any other way.

#matthew tkachuk #matthew tkachuk imagine #matthew tkachuk x reader #matthew tkachuk fic #matthew tkachuk imagines #nhl fic #nhl imagine #nhl imagines #nhl writing #nhl fanfiction #hockey fic #hockey writing #hockey fanficition #hockey imagine #calgary flames x reader #calgary flames imagine #calgary flames fic #claudia writes

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havin-fun-imagining-twd · 3 years ago

Text

Too much thinking before bed, Pt. 1

When - right after Like a traditional Sunday dinner, so we’re still at the CDC in episode TS-19. If y’all are interested in more of the Slowpoke Series, here’s the Masterlist.

Perspective - 2nd person

Relationships - you and the gang! This one heavily stars our wonderful Miss Jacqui because she deserves it and we don’t have much time left with her. And yes, work-in-progress Daryl’s in it, too, don’t you worry.

Genre - varied.

Pronouns - ain’t got none, son.

TWs - language, mention of suicidal ideation, intoxication, arguing

Word count - only one way to find out.

“The man asked us to go easy on the hot water, Theodore. You used how much, then?”

He hesitates before answering just long enough for that sheepish smile to give him away. “Wasn’t no long one, but I enjoyed myself some. And I know Carl used warm water at least, right, little man?”

The kid just ducks behind his book and holds in his giggle.

Eyebrows raised but eyes warm, Jacqui tuts that “You best make that doctor a good breakfast tomorrow, then.”

“Even Dale used some hot water, sister.”

“We all may do as we choose,” she reminds him. “Don’t mean that whatever we choose is best.”

When Carol and Sophia walk into the room, T-Dog appeals to them. “Tell me y’all also used some hot water?”

Little Sophia blushes slightly and her mother makes a lopsided grin. “Perhaps a little,” Carol admits.

Turning to you with an amused expression on her face, Jacqui concludes that “I think it was just you, myself, and that brother of yours who took our showers cold.”

“Do we get a prize in the mornin’?” you joke dryly.

“Your prize will be that breakfast I’m gonna whip up!” T-Dog is quick to joke back. “I cannot wait to get me a look in the pantry here.”

It was mainly Carol and Mr. Morales who oversaw the meals back at the quarry, but T-Dog always helped out with breakfast. He’d been reminiscing about how much he missed bacon and eggs for a few weeks now, actually. Not that The CDC could have that kind of stuff. You assume that there are only MREs or maybe oatmeal packets or other non-perishable things.

Mmm, you’re already daydreaming about possibly having grits with that shelf-stable cheese stuff. That’s reasonable, right? Either way, can’t hurt to hope. After all, you are three for three on your dumb guesses for what the CDC would have inside it.

You still can’t believe that random luck.

Though technically, the video game system that you’d hypothesized a bunch of scientists might have in the breakroom wasn’t a Wii, it was an Xbox. So close yet so far.

Naturally, the first words out of your mouth were “No Playstation? This place blows, I’m out.”

To your relief, Shane had genuinely chuckled a little when you’d said that. His eyes crinkled and he even appeared to relax somewhat. “No video games anyways, weirdo, doctor’s orders.”

“Oh, I ain’t touching no Xbox, loser.”

The group let you shower first due to you having that migraine earlier (and subsequently getting sick on the roadside). There was only one, really nice, big shower stall. Like, unusually big to allow for assisted emergency washes if necessary; it was a lab, after all. There was a locker room type deal with shower stalls and toilets down the hall, but most wanted to wait for the nice one.

And since Dr. Jenner had asked that you go easy on the hot water, you took your shower cold. You feel a little foolish now, but at least you can say that you respected your hosts wishes...annnnnd you’re now daydreaming about a steaming hot, excessively long shower.

The cold felt nice on your bruise, you suppose. You’d laughed too much at dinner earlier so it was really sore now.

Full disclosure, you did flip the faucet to hot (just for a moment!) after you were all rinsed just to get one douse of heat because ahh, but otherwise you’d been good and did as your host asked.

Shane also took his cold. You know this because he came back to the room covered in goosebumps. He often took his cold, though. Something to do with keeping healthy and fit.

If only he hadn’t also come back to the room carrying the half-full bottle of Southern Comfort.

“Hey, thanks for setting up the cots – oh.” That’s when you noticed the bottle. “Daryl shared?”

“Please, not now. Unless you want in on this.”

“Just brushed my teeth,” you declined. “It’s just a little...” Alarming to see you this way. “Different for you.” you worded carefully. Then, half-smiling, you tried to tease that “Grandma Jean would scold you somethin’ fierce.”

Your brother wasn’t having it. “Yeah, well not all of us are good little prudes,” he’d muttered.

Which was damned rude. And God help the two of you, you’ve both got tempers. You technically didn’t sound angry yet, though. And you weren’t fighting yet, you were simply taken aback. “Hey. I ain’t attacking you, Shaney, watch your mouth.”

“Then shut up.”

Okay, that’s when the two of you were full-on fighting.

“Don’t tell me to –”

“ – I don’t have the patience your snide little judgements right now.”

Snide little judgements? Is that what he thought? You weren’t condemning, you were concerned! “I was worried, asshole.”

“Go try and be useful someplace else,” he warned. “I don’t need this shit right now.”

“But you do need to get drunk and start actin’ up, is that right?”

He hadn’t been himself more and more, but for the past few days, he’d been almost foreign. What was his deal?

“I’ve always been a cocky asshole, Y/N, you know that.” Ugh, then he was doing that thing where he was smiling even though he was furious. “Even Grandma Jean knew that,” he ranted.

Then your brother had taken another gulp, and your anger was replaced by plain, old disappointment. You sure as hell sounded disappointed as you cautioned “This ain’t you, man.”

“It really is.”

“Stop,” you’d growled as you reached over to grab the bottle from him.

But he lifted it away, blocked you with his arm, and hissed “Yeah, how about you do the same while we’re at it?” His muscles had tensed up like he was about to punch something.

“Is this about Fort Benning or what, Shane? About the camp?”

“You really don’t know shit, naïve little brat.” What the fuck?

“Then open your idiot mouth and tell me what’s behind this, you limp dick!” you’d shouted back.

“Just – please! I need to fuckin’– ”

His eyes were squeezed shut and his fists were clenched but he said nothing further. Then he sat, his shoulders slumped, and when he finally spoke again, his voice was hoarse and sounded higher than usual. “You need to le – I’m sorry, um...” And he rephrased it: “Please, give me some space. ‘Take the kettle off the burner,’ right?”

Your blood pressure was sky-high, but the little part of your brain that wasn’t hot and angry stood at attention when he said that little phrase. Mama had used that one a lot. You were a household of hot-heads and fosters; it had been a requirement. And it somehow worked for you guys.

Slowly, you gritted out “I’m gonna go to the rec room.” You were gonna head there anyways.

Quickly, you looked under your cot and rummaged around for the – “Shane, where’s the med bag at?” You’d shoved the mp3 player in there. Your brother had been charging it up for you in his Jeep during the drive here. So when you and Glenn were grabbing the essentials to bring inside, well, you’d yanked it off the charging cord as fast as you could before running to the next vehicle.

“On a chair outside the shower room,” he mumbled, hands covering his face. The bottle sat the floor near him. “That way people can take what they need.”

With that, you saw yourself out and headed down the halls until you found your way back to the shower room door. Sure enough, there was a chair next to it on which sat the med bag.

You saw the music player sticking out of the side pocket, grabbed it, and untangled the earbuds as you stormed to the (at the moment, empty) rec room. Leaving the lights off, you laid down on the floor, propped your legs on the couch, put the headphones in, and blasted whatever was already playing when you switched it on.

It was still on the Zeppelin playlist. Your eldest sister had made that playlist. It used to be her mp3 player, actually. She’d upgraded and given this one to you a few years back.

Shane’s favorite playlist, too.

Whatever. You ended up replaying Communication Breakdown on repeat (felt very appropriate) until the lights flicked on and Jacqui walked into the room with her crossword puzzle book.

“Be mindful about blasting the music in your ears too loud, baby. You only got one set,” she gently reminded you as you pulled out the earbuds. Then she waltzed over to the bookshelf just about glowing with anticipation. “Oh Lord, would you look at all these!”

Wasn’t that something? The room was packed with games, a tiki bar, a jukebox – and she beelines for the bookshelf.

Carefully perusing the titles, she mentioned that “Nothing like reading before bed to keep your thoughts reined in. I think we’ll all be needing distractions before sleeping for a good, long while.”

“Amen, ma’am.” Thinking before bed in the before-times was iffy. Thinking before bed nowadays was downright treacherous. Hurt too much.

Reading material selected, Jacqui headed over to the couches, picked her spot, and with the new book beside her, opened up her crossword. “I imagine you need some more quiet just like I do,” she hinted.

You sighed. Resigned, you then asked “Did you hear Shane and I, Miss Jacqui?”

“I showered right after that brother of yours, so I did not – but Glenn mentioned it,” she let you know. Leaning in, she chuckled that “You shoulda seen him, he waitin’ right outside the shower room door like a kid in line for a roller coaster.”

That made you crack up, so you didn’t feel quite so full of dread when you checked “Do you reckon everybody heard us?”

“I’m not certain,” she answered simply. “But it ain’t no big thing either way, we’ve all heard something like it before or done it ourselves. Besides, we’re all family here.” She turns her head to you and eyes the earbuds still blasting music where they lay on the floor beside your head. “Now treat your ears kindly and turn down that music, Y/N.”

Obeying her request, you lowered the volume, then changed the song to a calmer one and let yourself relax and rest your eyes a moment.

Not your best idea, because suddenly, you inhaled and noticed that there was a completely different song on.

And shit, you’d had a weird dream.

Dale and Jim were working on the RV. Dale was trying to pour Southern Comfort into whichever part kept breaking, saying that the alcohol would clean it, while Dr. Jenner told them to conserve the power and not turn on the ignition. Jim kept trying not to swear and was repeating over and over that he was fine. Amy was listening to someone cry over the radio and didn’t know what to do.

But the part with Shane upset you the most. He had driven back to the camp in his Jeep after filling up the water barrels, but then blasted a hole through each one with his shotgun while your mama watched. Then when Jacqui saw what he was doing, she frowned at him and said that they hadn’t drunk any water in days.

That last part must have been because Jacqui was talking to you in real life. “Ah, you’re awake. How about a five-letter word for ‘pheasant relative?’”

“Um...g-grouse?” you guessed, still dazed and trying to blink away the dream.

“That’s six letters, baby; I tried the same,” she mused softly. “Oh! ‘Quail!’” she remembered. “How could I forget those little things? Alright, the next one that’s stumped me is ‘one of seven on a harp.’”

Your mind was still reviewing the details of that dream. Quickly, you tossed a prayer up that you could get some decent sleep tonight without any more dreams like that haunting you.

That’s what you get for thinking too much before crashing, you supposed. Now, what was the wording for the prayer Jim asked you to say, again? “Jacqui?”

She looked up from her book and noted your expression. “What’s on your mind?”

“You remember that long prayer Jim was doing for his family, right?”

Her smile faded. “Of course.” It was a month-long, daily ritual he’d kept.

“I asked him what we should say for him, when we lef...back at the tree. He told me a very short little phrase.”

“How short?”

“Um, ‘Blessed is the true judge. He is full of compassion.’” That was it. Short, right? “Is that part of the longer one he did?”

She seemed to weigh what you told her, then exhaled slowly. Her eyes looked wet. “Dale would know more. He, if I recall, was also raised Jewish. And Theodore might as well, since he started to pray along with Jim in his own way.”

“Okay,” you said softly. You’d ask one of them once they’d had their showers.

Sniffing, Jacqui offered “Alright, how about this one? You’d know this: ‘a cheese in Indian cuisine.’ I believe it starts with a p.”

“Oh, it’s on the tip of my tongue!” you exclaimed. What was it, what was it, what was it...Come on, “Suri and Zee’s mom made that spinach thing with it, it was really good!” Then the lightbulb goes off, and you proudly announced “Paneer!”

“P-a-n-e-e-r?”

Sounded okay to you...“Maybe?”

“Might as well try it! Which means this answer is…well that one is definitely an h, and that answer is ‘Athanasius,’ so this letter is an a, so this word here must be ‘Praha.’ Hm. So that’s how the Czech say ‘Prague.’” Murmuring to herself out loud, she wondered “Why don’t we just call it what they call it? It’s their city in their language. Seems silly to not.”

Her eyes flitted back over to you. “Alright, how about ‘tragus piercing place?’ Is that the ear? Because it is only three letters, but I don’t know what you young things are doing these days. Could be ‘lip’ or ‘gum’ or even the ‘hip’ or ‘jaw.’”

Well, she made you giggle again, God love her.

“And speaking of jaws, Y/N, that bruise is looking like it smarts a bit.”

“But I look very cool with it, right?”

“Cool or fool, both sound the same.”

Again, she made you giggle. “The tragus is this little part of the outer ear that sticks out right here, ma’am,” you showed her. One of the foster siblings who’d lived with you once had that part pierced.

“Thank you much! And speaking of ears now – why you turning up that volume again?” she chided.

You stooped your shoulders slightly. “Nat King Cole. It’s Mona Lisa.” Tilting your head, you held out an earbud. “This song calms me.”

She eyed the earbud. Then her mouth twisted to the side. “Okay, for him, Nina Simone, or Celine Dion I’ll give you a pass, sugar,” she relented. “Let me in there, but let’s turn the volume down to a healthy level.”

After a few songs and several more words correctly guessed (let’s be honest, it was all Jacqui’s knowledge. You peaked at “paneer”), a wet-haired Glenn slumped in to say a very exhausted “Sorry, Y/N, but I gotta hit the sack, dude. Wanted to hang out n’ stuff, but...”

“It’s okay, bud. Foosball can wait until mornin’,” you assured him.

T-Dog’s voice came from the hallway to tell him “It was all that wine, my man, it can get people sleepy.”

“I thought drunk people partied all night. Like, thank God, I’m pretty sure I’m not even gonna dream I’m so tired.”

T-Dog by then was grinning next to Glenn by the door frame. He patted his shoulder a few times and instructed him to “Drink two glasses of water before crashing and take two ibuprofen, okay?”

“Is that Tylenol, T-Dog?”

“Nope, it’s Advil or Motrin. We still got some in the med bag, right Y/N?”

“Yup,” you confirmed.

“’Kay,” Glenn slurred before trudging away. “G’night everybody, g’night Y/N.”

After Glenn was gone, T-Dog sighed that “Sure hope he sleeps okay. Drinking too much causes a longer REM cycle, not a shorter one.”

Soon, Carl also joined you, listened to some music with you for a while (”You got a lot of old stuff like my dad likes.”), then busied himself with an I Spy book from the shelf – and heck yes, you were going to snag that afterwards. That would be a great way to fall asleep without thinking about things.

“Hey punk, where’s your mom and dad?” you casually checked, still trying to figure out what the capital of Oman might be based on what letters you and Jacqui already had.

And yes, you realized what Rick and Lori might could’ve been up to, but that was after asking. Jacqui groaned only slightly, while T-Dog had to clear his throat to hide his laugh.

Lucky for you, Carl hadn’t learned the ins and outs (...pun intended) of that subject just yet. “Dad’s next for the shower, so he’s waiting for mom to finish up. Andrea took a while,” he replied, absorbed in his book.

“I don’t blame her, she needed a long, hot shower,” T-Dog said.

Absent-mindedly nodding and agreeing “Mmhm,” Jacqui suddenly paused and squinted at T-Dog when he next commented “Lord, but did that hot water feel nice.”

“You used the hot water, too?”

His cheeks began to turn a deep shade of rose. “Maybe a little.”

“The man asked us to go easy on the hot water, Theodore. You used how much, then?”

During this playful bickering about the hot water, Carol and Sophia had walked in, which lead to T-Dog announcing his plans to make breakfast in the morning.

And that’s where you are now.

“The Breakfast King is back, bitc – babes,” T-Dog quickly corrects. “Hey now, I didn’t say the cuss fully, you ain’t getting no quarters out of me today, kids.”

Having avoided the only two quarters he has ever neared paying up, he asks “Alright, ready to go?”

That meant it was prayer time, so you and Carol head to the kitchen while T-Dog made his rounds with his usual offer for others to join if they wished. (Hopefully he avoided Rick and Lori’s room.)

He’d begun to do that with the adults in the group back when the camp first formed. Kids were welcome, that goes without saying, but he always made sure that the adults could have an outlet to say things that wouldn’t be suited to little ones’ ears; this one was one of those nights where that outlet was needed. But it all worked out; Sophia and Carl had just entered into a checkers match.

Dale joins the group this time, taking his seat in a chair in between yourself and T-Dog. He’s still in his bathrobe, actually, and looks very disturbed by something. That makes you frown.

He seemed fine earlier. Was it something with Andrea, maybe?

The doc is in the kitchen, too, but was already sitting alone at the tables. That’s sad as all get-out.

Is it that your group is making him feel unsafe, or was he simply working through something?

“Edwin, how about joinin’ us?” T-Dog asks him.

The doctor’s answer is quiet. “I��ll listen.” Politely, he then responds “Thank you.”

The prayers are always simple and straightforward. Half of it is usually silent intentions and stuff. The rest is praying for the dead and those who were apart from you.

The new names on the list send tears down your cheeks. The Morales family. Amy. Jim.

Dale does help with the prayers for Jim. You started by quietly saying the words that Jim told you, few as they were. You felt self-conscious doing so, but Dale nodded in familiarity when you said the words. Then he takes over, rocking gently and keeping his head down and hands cupped, palms facing inward near his chin as he recites the longer, traditional prayer. Some lines he did in Hebrew, some in English. T-Dog tries to quietly follow along since he knows some of the words while Carol and you keep your heads bowed respectfully.

But when that’s finished, Carol timidly requests prayers for ‘Ed’s soul.’

Hell, you had to pray for your own once you realize how bitter and downright hateful you react internally at hearing the words. Which is precisely why you should do as Carol asked, you suppose.

As if on cue, T-Dog then suggests praying for “Everybody that hurt us or everybody we hurt.” Mentions prayers for Merle again.

Dale requests special prayers for Andrea and Jacqui “and for everybody else struggling with going on.” The doc gets up and leaves, you notice.

A subconscious shiver went up your spine. You hadn’t expected Jacqui to be struggling with that, of all people. You’d just been with her and hadn’t noticed any signs.

Your own struggles with that had somehow stayed away ever since the outbreaks, believe it or not. So far anyways. Even with how horrifying and hopeless things appeared to be. You’d kept finding something to hold on to and live for, you reckon. Hope is a powerful thing.

Whatever, if it was working, you aren’t fixing to argue with it.

Protecting Carl and your brother seemed to be your goals, at the moment. Well, not “protecting” Shane in a physical sense as much as...you aren’t sure how to describe it. You don’t want to call it protecting his “soul,” that was dramatic. But his personality type is prone to...forgetting his goodness. You love your brother so much, but that’s one of his struggles.

Ugh, the downside to praying is thinking about this shit. Especially so close to bedtime.

“You okay?”

“Just mopin’, Teddy.”

“Wanna share, or call it a special intention?”

“Special intention.” Actually... “Nah, never mind; pray for Shane. please. Y’all saw how he was at supper.”

Carol rubs your hand for a moment, the doctor returns and sits back in his corner, prayers are concluded, and you all stand up to leave.

“That bruise is looking pretty purple,” she quietly murmurs.

To which you obviously have to put a hand to your chest and joke “It looks pretty?”

Smiling and shaking her head, Carol announces that she’s going back to the game room for a while before she and Sophia do their bedtime prayers and get some sleep. “It’ll be nice to get a proper night’s rest in a safe place. I bet we’ll even be able to fall asleep without worrying too much.” Looking over her shoulder, she says “We owe you our lives, doctor. Thank you.”

Hesitant smile, all that he responds with is “You deserved a chance.”

Then he hands you a thin flat packet – is that a heat pack?”

“They stocked us with a ton of those oxygen-activated body warmers,” he tells you. “It’ll help your bruising dissipate faster. Just wrap a t-shirt around it first, since it will get very hot and the skin on the face is generally more sensitive. Just don’t press too hard, since that could irritate the area further.”

“Dr. Jenner, th-thank you!” Your words are failing you.

“Consider it my thank-you as well, for assisting me with the blood samples earlier.” And with that, he seems to dismiss you from the room.

Whatever, you’ll go with the flow – he just gifted you with a heat pack!

You pass Rick in the hallway, who’s still lugging around a wine bottle. He made a happy drunk, though. “Where’s that doc of ours, Y/N? I need to thank him again.”

“Hidin’ in the kitchen,” you whisper, still beaming. “Don’t scare him off, I think he’s a good egg.”

“I won’t. You just have a good night now, troublemaker.”

Oh no, Dale must have mentioned that nickname he’d teased you with. But if Rick had gotten a hold of it, that means it was here to stay. You were barely able to convince him to not call you “weirdo” like Shane does.

Oh poop, and now Rick is giving you that mischievous look because he knows. So, you make a face right back and annoy him with “Nighty-night, then, porkchop.”

You’re about to turn into your room when you hear a rhythmic thudding (no, not that kind of rhythmic thudding). Following the noise and peeking into one of the lecture rooms, you see Daryl leaning in a chair and tossing a ball against the wall.

“Hey.”

He glances over. “Hey.”

*ka-thunk*

“Where’d you find a bouncy ball, Daryl?”

“The office I set up shop in.” *ka-thunk* “Found it on the desk.” *ka-thunk* “They made it outta rubber bands.”

*ka-thunk*

“Cool.”

*ka-thunk*

“So did y’all have fun singin’ Lord, Send a Revival?” he grates.

*ka-thunk*

That was kind of rude. Would be rude even if there was singing. It was just a quiet, little prayer circle. Heck, it was even religiously neutral when not all parties in it were of the same faith.

Dryly, you ask “So you’re tellin’ me,” *ka-thunk* “That if we sang that song, you’d wanna join us?”

*ka-thunk*

Just as dryly, he seems to joke back “Sure, maybe that and some donuts.”

*ka-thunk*

“How long you been at this?”

*ka-thunk*

He makes a tiny shrug. “Dunno.”

*ka-thunk*

With another glance at you, he pauses before tossing the ball again. “Wanna join?”

*ka-thunk*

“Yup.”

89 notes · View notes

study-coffee-chicago · 3 years ago

Text

Seasons of PD: Season 7: Don’t You Ever Do That Again, You Hear Me? (A Halstead Brothers + Halstead Sister! Imagine)

A/N: There are mentions of B1ack Liv3s M4tter (apparently this ended up in that tag, so I changed the wording, so hopefully it’s not there anymore) in regards to peaceful protests in this. And there are mentions of counter-protesters causing riots. I tried my best to portray this as professionally as possible with Y/N's views, Kevin's views, and Jay's views. I did not try to offend anyone at all and I'm very sorry if I did.

Also, I don't know if one part counts as threat of sexual coercion, but I'm fairly certain that's what it's called, so trigger warning for that.

Your age: 18

Jay's age: 32

Will's age: 34

"I get that it's important to you, but I'm not letting you go!" Jay argued as you stood across from him in a screaming match.

"Why? Because You don't believe the same things as me because you haven't met a bad cop? Because you fought for this country and know people who died for it?" you yelled back.

"Yes, me being a cop and a soldier obviously has something to do with this! But I'm also trying to keep you safe! They turn into riots!"

"You do know that's not the Black Lives Matter protesters who start them, right? They're peaceful. Counter-protesting assholes come and start things to give peaceful protesters a bad image!"

"I don't want you to get hurt if something happens! Tear gas hurts, kid. I don't want you to come home with burning eyes and the possibility of going blind and tell me I'm right. I'm trying to prevent that!"

"I know you are, Jay! I just want you to let me have my own damn opinions and do what I want for once!"

"Has a cop ever hurt you in some way? Pulled you over illegally?" Jay roared.

You wanted to tell him your story about something like that that had happened five weeks ago, two weeks after the infection scare across the entire city, but you couldn't because you knew he'd do something stupid and you didn't want that. "No, but--"

His phone rang, cutting you off. "I'll be there," Jay said quickly. Then, he turned back to you. "I gotta go, caught a case. I'll see you later and we can talk about this. Calmly."

"So, you're saying there's a chance you'll let me go?"

"There's maybe a .001% chance, but sure, believe what you want."

You rolled your eyes and he left. But, as he shut and locked the apartment door, he stopped. "Love you," he whispered. Because, with what he did on the job, he knew that there was the possibility every day of him not coming home to you.

***

When you woke up, you were shocked not to see a text from Jay between 3 and 5 am saying that he wouldn't make it home tonight. He usually made it a priority when on a case to tell you that he wouldn't be coming home so that you wouldn't worry.

But, there was a voicemail from him around 11 pm last night and it was currently 9 am.

You put your phone on speaker and played it.

"Hey, Y/N, I'm sorry about arguing. If you really want to go, I think Kevin has his RDO tomorrow so I can see if he's going if you-- OW!" Then, the line just continued playing, and dragging noises were heard until there was a crash and the line went dead.

"Jay? Jay?" What the hell had happened? You quickly replayed the message to make sure it wasn't an issue with your phone, but when you heard the same exact thing again, you knew something had gone terribly wrong.

You went to dial Hailey's number to ask if she had seen Jay when there was a loud knock on your door. You quickly ran across the apartment and looked out the peephole. You saw Hailey and Adam and quickly flung open the door.

"Hey, Y/N," Adam said as he entered.

"Have you guys seen Jay?" you asked.

You saw Hailey visibly swallow. "Listen," she started, but you cut her off.

"What happened? What's going on? He usually texts me if he's going to be working until the morning and I didn't get a text and I got a voicemail and--" You took a deep, gasping breath.

"What voicemail?" Hailey asked as she placed a hand on your shoulder.

"I- It cut off partway through and he yelled and-- wait, he wasn't with you?"

"No," Hailey answered. "He said he had some personal stuff to take care of when we were at a scene and then took off. Then, he never came back, so we decided to check here to see if he just came home or something happened."

"He never came home." Your eyes widened, finally processing what it meant if he wasn't here and Intelligence couldn't find him. "You're telling me he's missing? Again? Oh, no. This can't be happening, not again. Not after our fight last night. I didn't even tell him what happened or that I loved him or--"

"Y/N, I need you to take a deep breath," Hailey told you and you tried to match her breathing. "His radio might just be dead or something like that." She knew that she was lying, but she was trying to stop you from freaking out. "Can you give me your phone so Adam and I can listen to the voicemail?"

You nodded and handed Adam your phone. He pressed play and you watched as his jaw clenched as he was listening to it.

"Shit," he muttered once he was done. "We need you to come to the district with us. Just for safety."

"Can you give me a minute?" you asked. "I- I'm in my pajamas and I haven't brushed my teeth and--"

"We'll leave in half an hour, okay?" Hailey asked and you nodded. "While you're getting ready, we'll send the voicemail over to Kim and Kev. Jay's gonna be okay."

"How do you know that?" you almost whispered.

"Because Jay's one of the strongest people I know," she answered. But, in reality, she wasn't sure about that. They had no idea where he was and according to the timestamp on that voicemail, it had been a little over ten hours since he sent it. For all they knew, Jay could be out of Chicago right now. Scratch that, he could be out of Illinois.

***

"When did you get this voicemail?" Hank asked as everyone in Intelligence, minus Jay but including you, were in the bullpen and trying to trace where the call came from.

"Around 11 last night, Boss," Adam answered for you.

"Okay. So it's been almost 11 hours," Voight said.

"I need a break, excuse me," you said and quickly excused yourself to the locker room.

You made your way to the locker room and sat down and leaned against the wall. This couldn't be happening again, not after that crazy borderline sociopathic drug dealer kidnapped Jay a few years ago and Erin went in and saved him. This could not be happening again.

You thought back to the fight last night and something your mom would always say when she was in a fight with one of the boys or when you had thrown a temper tantrum and then had to go to bed.

I'll always tell you I love you because when you walk out that door or go to bed, I'll never know if that was the last chance I had to tell you I love you.

God, if you hadn't argued with Jay, maybe you wouldn't be feeling this way. Obviously, you'd be feeling scared and upset because Jay was missing and no one had any idea where he was, but at least you wouldn't feel guilty like you currently did.

You felt guilty about starting that fight in the first place by bringing it up even though you knew what his answer was going to be. You felt guilty about yelling. But most of all, you felt guilty and you regretted not saying love you when he left...because that might've been the last time you'd have been able to tell that to your big brother who had always been there for you...even when he really didn't want to.

Jay's Nokia flip phone buzzed as he walked out of school. It was his mom.

"Hey, Mom," he greeted.

"Jay Halstead, if you answered your phone while you're driving..." she trailed off, trying to think of a good threat.

"Mom, I didn't. I was talking to some friends about going for tacos tonight, so I just walked out of school a minute ago."

"Oh," she said.

"What oh?" Jay asked. "That sounded like a bad oh, Mom."

"Well, I wish I would've known that before a professor called in sick to give an exam to his students and I agreed to pick up the extra hours."

"What are you talking about?"

"I can't bring Y/N to the dentist. And I thought since you weren't busy, you could. I also may or not have promised her that she could go to Build-A-Bear after to get a new outfit for Beary because she's so scared."

"Mom," Jay groaned.

"I know, I'm sorry. But, how about this: you do this for me, and I'll extend your curfew by two hours on Friday and Saturday."

"Three," Jay countered.

"Two." Amelia Halstead stood strong.

"Three."

"Two and a half."

"Deal," Jay agreed.

"Thank you. I'll see you tonight. Love you."

"Love you, too."

***

"No," you whined as Jay told you that you had to leave after he walked you home from school later. "I don't wanna go to the dentist. They scary."

"No, they're not," Jay told you. The doctor was what was scary for him with all the needles for the shots. But, the dentist had never bothered him, even when he was a little kid it had never bothered him.

"No!"

"What if I let you bring Beary into the dentist, would you go then?" Jay practically pleaded.

"And you give me chocolate before we leave?"

"If you promise to grab your toothbrush and brush your teeth in the bathroom at the dentist, then yes, I'll give you some chocolate to eat on the way there." Jay was desperate at this point. He knew he shouldn't be giving you everything you wanted, but what were big brothers with a giant age gap for anyway if not to try and spoil his little sister?

"Okay!" You ran off to go grab Beary and your toothbrush and toothpaste while Jay made his way to a high cabinet in the kitchen and grabbed five squares of Dove milk chocolate, three for you and two for him.

In the car, Jay handed you the cholates and you started eating them while you held Beary close to you, trying to gain some comfort out of your favorite stuffed animal.

***

You gripped Jay's hand as you sat and waited for your name to be called. Beary was held in your other hand and you were squeezing him tight against your chest. You had just brushed your teeth like you promised Jay that you would, but you were still utterly terrified.

"Y/N Halstead?" a dental hygienist came out and asked.

You didn't say a word, just held Jay's hand tighter.

"That's you," Jay said gently and with a smile on his face, trying to make you feel less scared.

"No, not me," you told him as you frantically shook your head.

The dental hygienist squatted down in front of you. "Are you Y/N?" You didn't do anything, but Jay must've nodded to confirm that it was indeed you. "And who's this?" she asked as she shook Beary's paw.

"Beary," you said shyly.

"Well, I'm fairly certain that Beary will be with you the entire time. We even have little sunglasses you and he can wear when we shine the really bright light on you to protect both your little eyes. Does that sound good?"

You turned to Jay. "Me and Beary get sunglasses, Jay Jay!"

"I heard! Do you want me to come back with you?"

You thought for a second. "Please come."

Jay laughed. "Okay." He turned to the dental hygienist. "Is that okay?"

"Perfectly fine."

You stood up and held Jay's hand as you walked back into the dentist to get your six-month check-up on your baby teeth.

***

"That wasn't so bad was it?" Jay asked as the two of you walked out to his car after you finished.

"No!" you said as you shook your head. "I even got a pretty bracelet with Belle on it, see?" you exclaimed as you held your hand out to him to show off your yellow bracelet with a charm that had Belle from Beauty and the Beast on it.

Jay acted all surprised and said it was pretty even though he watched as you had picked it out while he had explained to the secretary how your mom would call to schedule your next appointment in six months.

Jay opened his car and made sure you were buckled in and then got in himself and started driving.

"Do you know where we're going?"

You gasped. You had forgotten you got to go to Build-A-Bear after!

"Build-A-Bear!" you yelled. The volume of that yell would've made Jay wince had he not been driving.

"Yup, that's where we're going."

"I think I'm gonna get Beary some new pajamas," you decided.

"What color?"

You held Beary out in front of you. "What color pjs do you want, Beary?" You brought him up to your ear and nodded as he "told" you what color pajamas he wants. "He said blue!"

"Blue pajamas. I'm pretty sure we can find those."

***

Jay and you walked into Build-A-Bear Workshop at the mall and you were met with children running around. To Jay, this was the definition of hell. Except for you, he was fine with you running around, but he really didn't like all the other kids that he had to be careful not to bump into.

"C'mon, Jay Jay!" you told him as you tugged him along to the pajama section.

He allowed himself to be tugged along by you and then you held up almost every single pair of blue pajamas to Beary to see which one was his favorite. He had decided on a pair of light blue pajamas with stars all over them. There was even a cute little hat with a pom-pom on top to go with the pajamas.

Jay paid and then you left with Beary and his brand-new pajamas. You had plans to have him sleep in those pajamas tonight, too.

Unbeknownst to you, Jay hadn't even really wanted to come. The only reason he brought you was that he got his curfew extended. But to you, it was just another fun afternoon with your big brother.

You were startled out of your daydream when you felt a hand on your shoulder. "Sorry, didn't mean to scare you."

Kevin.

"It's fine. I'm fine," you said quickly.

"No, you're not. And that's okay. Hailey and Voight went to see if Jay's where his phone pinged at."

"We fought," you told him.

"You fought?" Kevin asked as he slid down the wall to sit next to you.

"It was stupid. I should've just agreed with him and maybe I wouldn't be feeling like this."

"Like what?"

"Like utter shit." You sighed and ran a hand through your hair. "We were arguing about the BLM protests that were happening tonight. I wanted to go, but he wouldn't let me. The last thing I did was roll my eyes at him, Kev."

The two of you sat in silence for a few moments while Kevin figured out how to comfort you.

"Maybe talking about it will help. What'd you argue about?"

"Just that I wanted to go and he wouldn't let me because he thinks riots will break out. And you and I both know that's not the BLM protesters, that's the counter-protesters. But, he thinks I'll get hurt. I also think it's because he's a cop, so he feels like I'm protesting him, but I'm not. I'm protesting the system."

Kevin nodded. "I get it. Believe me, I do. I live it every day."

"How do you do it?" you asked. "Be an activist and a cop at the same time?"

"Just try and do the right thing with the information you have. And, explain that you're protesting the system and the bad apples, not the police force as a whole."

"I tried. But Jay doesn't think I have a right to protest because I've never had a bad experience with a cop." Which was a lie, but you weren't ready to talk about that just yet.

"Did he say that exactly?" Kevin asked.

"No, but, he asked me if a cop has ever illegally pulled me over."

Kevin nodded. "I know Jay and I know he would never say that you didn't have the right protest. He fought for that right. He mention anything else?"

"That tear gas hurts."

"I think he just wanted to keep you safe, same thing I'd do for Jordan and Vanessa."

"He sounded like he changed his mind on his voicemail, though. He thought that maybe if you were going, then he'd let me go...at least, that's what it sounded like."

Kevin nodded. "All I can say is that until we found Jay, I'm not going to one. Getting your brother is my first priority and it's the first priority of everyone in this unit."

"My first priority, too."

"Kev!" Adam yelled as he banged on the door. "You in there?"

"Yeah, bro! What's up?" Kevin asked.

"We need you to meet with someone!"

***

The hours passed and with each of them that did, you got more and more nervous for Jay's safety. You guessed that this is how he felt when you asked if you could go to the protest, knowing that he'd constantly be worrying about you until you came home safely.

"Y/N, we gotta go," Trudy said as she entered the bullpen around 9:30 pm that night.

"Why? What's going on?" you asked as you grabbed your phone and started following her.

"They found Jay."

"Is he okay?" you asked quickly.

"Y/N..."

"No! He can't be dead, Trudy! He can't!" you wailed.

"He's not. But, he has been shot."

You froze. Shot. Jay had been shot.

"He's en route to Chicago Med right now."

"Can you- can you bring me there?"

"That's where we're going right now."

***

"Will!" you yelled as you ran into the ED and saw your oldest brother.

You ran right up to him and hugged him, not caring that he almost dropped his iPad he had been using to chart.

"Whoa, Y/N." He set the iPad down. "Hey, I know. But Crockett's operating on him right now and he's one of the best surgeons in the hospital."

"I thought you were better than him. You need to do the surgery, Will. you need to save Jay!"

"Y/N, I know it sucks, but I'm family. As much as I want to operate on him, I can't legally do that."

You paused and looked up at him. His eyes were slightly red, but he hadn't been bawling the way that you had been.

"Dr. Halstead! Incoming!" Maggie yelled.

"What does she mean?" you asked, still hanging onto him. "You're still working?"

"There's been a ten-car pile-up on the highway. I have to. It's my job."

"But Jay's in surgery!" you yelled as you pulled away from him. "These people are more important to you than your own brother?"

"They aren't but--"

"But you're working anyway instead of waiting to find out what happens to him?"

"I can't do anything to help Jay right now. But I can help all these people who are pouring in."

"Dr. Halstead!" Maggie shouted again.

"I'll be up in a few hours, I promise," Will told you.

***

A few hours had passed and it was now past midnight. Jay was still in surgery. Will was sitting next to you, in a spare pair of clothes he had packed instead of his scrubs that were covered in blood, and you were leaning your head on his shoulder, close to being asleep.

That was until Crockett came out and Will jumped up, causing your head to hit the back of the chair.

"Ow," you mumbled.

"Sorry," Will apologized and then turned back to Crockett. "What's the verdict?"

"He lost a lot of blood," Crockett told the two of you.

"But he's gonna pull through, right?" Will asked what the two of you were both thinking.

"We'll be out of blood soon."

"What do you mean out of blood?" Will asked, taking a step toward the surgeon. "There's no way you can be out of blood!"

"With that pile-up, we can. I'd recommend you go and say your goodbyes and pray for a miracle."

Will put his hands on the back of his head and started pacing the room. Your breath caught in your throat. This could not be happening. Jay couldn't die, he just couldn't.

Crockett started to walk back towards the operating room.

"Wait!" you yelled. You didn't know what had taken over you, but at this moment, you'd do anything to save your brother. You rolled up your sleeve. "Take my blood."

"Y/N," was all Will could manage to get out.

"I'm sorry, Y/N, but there's protocol for that. I'd love to let you do it, but--"

"Fuck protocol!" you yelled, all the anger and sadness and anxiety that had built up over the past fifteen hours exploding at this very moment. "Rush my labs. Or don't even get my labs done at all. I haven't had sex, so I don't have any STDs. I don't have any diseases or deficiencies since I moved in with Jay years ago. My blood type's O-neg, so I'm a universal donor. Take my goddamn blood, Crockett!" You didn't care that all that information was out in the open because you were barely processing what you were saying. The only thing you cared about was making sure that your brother was okay.

"Y/N," Will said as he walked up to you and placed a hand on your shoulder.

"Don't touch me! And you sure as hell don't want to tell me to calm down!"

"Y/N," Will started again as he took his hand off your shoulder. "What Crockett's saying is that it's not ethical for him to do this. He could get fired."

"Where's the paperwork?" you asked as you turned back to Crockett. "I'll sign whatever I have to sign to make sure you aren't liable at all, that I'm donating this of my own free will. You can even take double the amount of blood that you normally do since I'm a universal donor. Just get me the paperwork."

Crockett and Will shared a look.

"I'll go get a nurse to get you the paperwork."

"Wait, no, no, no," Will said as he walked closer to Crockett. "You can't be serious about this!"

"She said she'll sign it."

"But, I have to co-sign it since she's a minor. So, no, you are not donating blood, Y/N. You almost passed out when I drew vials of your blood years ago. You know what's gonna happen if we take two units of blood? You are gonna feel like utter shit."

"Last I checked, I'm 18, so I can sign my own paperwork! God, I'm not a fucking child anymore, Will! I can make my own decisions!" you yelled back. "And if I don't do this, Jay will die. He'll die, Will. So, I'm giving him my blood with or without your support."

***

You sat in a chair, the ones that Will had told you about years ago with the big padded bar thing that came down in front of you in case you passed out. Typically, they'd just have you lay down in a bed, but since they were short on beds and Will told them that you had a history of getting dizzy and nauseous during simple blood draws, they had decided to put you here instead.

"Last chance to back out," Will told you as the nurse tied off your arm with a blue rubber tie and started to rub your arm to get the big vein in your left forearm to show.

"Jay's dying. No way in hell am I backing out."

Will sighed. He knew you were doing the right thing, but he also knew that you were going to feel terrible after, and he hated seeing you like that. "Okay," he said. "I'll stay here until they get the needle in you and then I'll get you some juice and cookies."

"Ready?" Monique asked.

"Ready," you confirmed. You turned to Will and squeezed your eyes shut as the needle pierced your vein. You heard the sound of the machine and knew your blood was going in there, but you didn't want to look. Getting your blood drawn, you could watch. But this, this was just too much blood to see, so you looked at Will.

"Doing okay?" he asked a few minutes later.

"Yeah," you answered because that was the absolute truth: you were feeling just fine.

"Okay, I'm gonna go get you some cookies and juice. I'll get an update on Jay while I'm out there, too."

You nodded and he left the room.

This wasn't so bad.

***

Okay, so you were lying to yourself. You were currently in hell. Giving the blood hadn't been an issue, it was how you felt after you were done giving blood.

You were currently sitting in that same chair, drinking some juice that Will had brought you. He told you that there was still no update on Jay, but that they were sending the blood back to him right now. (They had rushed labs on a small vial of blood that Monique took before you started the donation. The results came back while you were giving blood, and since your blood was clean, you could give it to Jay.) But, God, but you felt absolutely awful.

"You doing okay?" Will asked.

You shook your head and then stopped because it made you dizzy and put your head in your hands. "No," you groaned.

He handed you a glass of water. "Drink a bit of this too and then I'll open your pack of cookies."

"Why do you want me to drink water and not juice?" you asked as you closed your eyes and tried to stop the spinning in your head.

"Because, you're sweating, Short Stack. Need you to stay hydrated."

You took a few sips of water and then went back to your juice. Will handed you your pack of chocolate chip cookies and you started to eat them.

"Mhm," you groaned and laid your head down on the padded bar thing in front of you that kept you from falling out of the chair. "I don't feel so good."

You felt hot and cold at the same time and the world seemed to spin every time you lifted your head up. And, those cookies did not sit well with you.

"How do you feel? What hurts?" Will asked, jumping into doctor mode since Monique wasn't around. Will assured her that he could look after you while you recovered from your blood being donated at twice the normal amount.

"I just feel like shit," you told him, not picking up your head.

"You gotta give me some symptoms. Give me some symptoms and then I can help."

"Mhm, fine." You looked up at him and blinked slowly. "I feel hot and cold and sweaty. And I feel dizzy and nauseous."

"Okay. That's either a vasovagal reaction or from your blood pressure being low or from your heart rate being slowed down."

"What's that reaction thingy?"

"You don't like blood in general, so a nervous system response can happen, which could explain your reactions. But, your BP could also be low, which could explain all this too. And, it's one in the morning and you haven't slept yet, so tiredness could also be a factor."

"Great," you said sarcastically as you remembered the last time your blood pressure was low.

You had taken some of Jay's medication that he had to ward off his PTSD-induced nightmares after you were involved in a shooting at a house party. The one time you took them without sleeping directly after, you felt almost exactly like this...except without the sweatiness. You just mostly felt dizzy. You had called Will, he came over, and then you ended passing out and he had to get you to Med. Then you were admitted and they got your pressure back up. You were also prescribed sleeping pills which had helped immensely.

Will grabbed a blood pressure cuff from a drawer. "Arm," he told you. You held out your arm and he wrapped the cuff around it and pumped the end of it.

You waited as he looked at the gauge on the blood pressure cuff. Will said one number over another number, which meant nothing to you, but must've meant something to him. You raised your eyebrows, hoping he was going to tell you what those numbers meant in non-medical English terms.

"BP's low, which explains most of the symptoms," he told you.

You took another bite of your cookie and washed it down with some juice, but then immediately after started dry heaving.

Will rushed around and then thrust a pink basin under your mouth.

You took a deep breath after you finally stopped dry heaving about thirty seconds later.

"Better?" Will asked. You shook your head. "I'm going to get you an IV of anti-nausea medication."

You were going to argue with him about how he wasn't working, so he probably couldn't get you that. And, you were fairly certain he couldn't prescribe things to family. But, you felt terrible, so you really don't care if Will was being reckless and borderline unethical/illegal right now.

You nodded and then laid your head back down.

When Will came back, he thought you were asleep, but when you heard footsteps, you looked up.

"Alright," he began as he assembled the IV. "Last poke of the day, I promise."

"After this can I take a nap in the on-call room?" you asked as you held your arm out to him once again.

"You know I can't let you do that." Will tied a blue band around your arm and started rubbing it to get a vein in the inside of your elbow. Then, he noticed your pale and sweaty face. "Fine. Hopefully, Goodwin won't fire me after this. But I have a good reason. Turn so you don't see the needle."

You did and closed your eyes. You felt the poke and squeezed your eyes shut, but then it subsided and you felt that weird feeling of the medicine going straight into your veins. God, you hoped this worked.

You hoped Jay would survive because you didn't just go through all that for nothing.

***

You slowly opened your eyes as you felt someone shaking your shoulder. "No," you groaned as you turned to face the other side of the bed.

But then you remembered where you were: the doctors on-call room because Jay had been shot. Maybe it was Will waking you up to tell you--

"Short Stack, wake up. Jay's awake."

That got you wide awake.

You snapped your eyes open, rolled over, and jumped out of bed.

"I take it you're feeling better?" Will asked.

"Sleep helps. Let's go!"

Will quickly led you out of the room and through some hallways and up a few flights of stairs to Jay's recovery room.

He was currently talking to Hailey.

"Jay!" you exclaimed as you burst into the room to see him with a sling and see Hailey helping him with his jacket.

"Hey, Short Stack," he greeted and then turned his attention back to Hailey. "Sorry, what were you saying?"

"Uh, just that I'm glad you're back," she told him. "I'll give you some time with your siblings." She turned her attention to Will. "Oh, and the things you told me to tell Kim to get are in that corner." She pointed to the left front corner of the room. "Bye, guys." She waved and then left.

You gave Jay a huge hug and tried to avoid his arm that was in a sling. "Don't you ever do that again, you hear me?" you told him seriously and then looked up at him with tears in your eyes.

Jay chuckled. "I'll try not to."

"You better do more than try." You went back to leaning your head against his chest as tears soaked his t-shirt.

"Hey, hey, don't cry," he soothed. "I'm okay. I'm fine, Y/N."

"I was so scared. The last thing we would've done was argue. I'm so sorry. I should never have asked to go to those protests. I know you were just trying to protect me--"

"Hey, it's okay for you to have your own opinions and views. It's just gonna take me a while to get used to you being an adult now and not that little sister who would always hold my hand and beg to go to Build-A-Bear."

"Speaking of Build-A-Bear," Will started and then walked over to the corner of the room and picked up two boxes. They were white boxes with dark blue designs on them. You knew those boxes: they were what the workers put new bears in when a kid came and bought one. You let go of Jay. Will peeked into one of the holes. "This one's for you." He handed Jay a box. "And this one's for you." He handed you the other box.

"You got us Build-A-Bears?" you asked as you raised an eyebrow.

"Just open the boxes."

You did and laughed when you saw Beary in the box, dressed in a hospital gown and white little bunny slippers. Your brothers were not kidding when they said they'd get one for you.

Jay laughed as he opened his. His Build-A-Bear was a light blue color and it also had on a hospital gown as well as a sling on one arm. The bear also had on a policeman cap. "Oh, man," Jay said as he continued laughing.

"Press the right paw," Will told him and he did, causing Ruzek's voice to float through the room.

Stop getting kidnapped. Glad you're okay, though.

You started laughing hysterically at this point.

"One more thing," Will said as he walked over to the counter and pulled out a marker and two hospital bracelets. On one he wrote Beary Halstead. "Jay, what are you naming your bear?" Will asked.

"I gotta name it?"

"Um, it's not an it. It's a he or a she...could be a they, too," you said.

"Fine. I gotta name him?"

"Yes," Will told him.

Jay groaned. "Fine. Blue."

"Boo! That's boring," you said.

He groaned again. "Detective Blue. There. Better?"

"Better," you confirmed.

Will wrote Det. Blue Halstead on the other hospital band. Then, he handed Beary's to you and Detective Blue's to Jay.

"I cannot believe you," Jay said.

"I can," Will laughed. "Now put it on him. Just like Y/N's doing with Beary."

Jay reluctantly put it on Detective Blue's arm. But then he realized something. "Wait, why does Beary have a hospital gown if Y/N wasn't in the hospital?"

"Yeah, about that..." you trailed off.

Jay cocked his head to the side. "What did you do this time?"

"Other than save your life, I got nauseous and Will had to give me anti-nausea medication," you explained.

"Wait, back up. You saved my life? How?" Jay asked as he looked between you and Will.

"She essentially cussed at Crockett until she got what she wanted," Will said nonchalantly.

"Which was...?" Jay pried.

"Giving you blood because the hospital was out because of a car accident. If she wouldn't have given you blood..." Will trailed off, not wanting to say the words.

"I'd be dead," Jay practically whispered.

"Yeah," Will confirmed, his voice at about the same volume as Jay's.

Jay felt himself getting choked up as he pulled you in for another hug. "Thank you."

"I know you'd do the same for me."

"In a heartbeat, Short Stack. In a heartbeat."

You stayed like that until Will went ahead and broke the comfortable silence that had fallen over the three of you.

"I hate to break this up, but there's something else I need to tell you guys," Will said.

You and Jay both turned to him and you let yourself out of Jay's embrace. "Which is?" you asked.

"Voight gave Jay two weeks furlough to recover and I talked Goodwin into giving me two weeks vacation--"

"How in the hell did you do that?" Jay asked.

"Let's just say I'm going to be working Thanksgiving, Christmas Eve, Christmas Day, New Year's Eve, and New Year's Day. But that's beside the point. We have two weeks of vacation time."

"You do know I work right?" you asked.

"At a coffee shop, not at a big kid job," Will said. "And, I had Kim and Adam stop in there on their way to get the bears. They explained the situation and your work gave you two weeks off. Adam said he may have had to flash his badge, but that's beside the point."

"And you took vacation because...?" you asked.

"We need to make sure Jay relaxes and there's so many protests-turned-riots happening right now that we should probably get out of here."

"You do know it's not the peaceful protesters starting those, right? It's counter-protesters and other people who are racist bigots and people who decided they have no other choice but to be violent," you said, making your views known once again.

"I'm very much aware, Y/N. But, no matter who started it, people were running from tear gas and burning buildings last night."

"Alright, back on topic," Jay started, not wanting to have another argument like he had two days ago with you. "Where are we going?"

"I figured Wisconsin would be a good choice."

***

"It's my turn to pick the music," you whined as Will looked for another song on your long drive to Wisconsin.

"I'm the oldest, so I get control of it," Will argued.

"No, you've controlled it for the last three hours. I've had to listen to nineties hip-hop for that long. My eardrums are gonna bleed. Please make him give the aux, Jay."

"Dude, just give her the aux, and then she'll be quiet. Remember, she likes early 2000s pop-punk and 2000s stuff in general. We'll probably know most of it."

Will reluctantly handed you the aux. "Thank you. And, just to remind you two, I'm a big fan of Taylor Swift's first few albums and 5 Seconds of Summer."

You clicked play on Take What You Want by One OK Rock featuring 5 Seconds of Summer. You queued up some more songs by 5 Seconds of Summer and two by Taylor Swift, just to mess with your brothers, and then you added songs they would know like All the Small Things by Blink-182, Check Yes, Juliet by We The Kings, Dear Maria, Count Me In by All Time Low, and Ocean Avenue by Yellowcard.

By the time Dear Maria, Count Me In started playing, all three of you were jamming out, which caused Jay to forget to put his blinker on when he changed lanes...and there was a cop right there in the emergency turnaround.

Jay heard and saw the sirens behind him and slowed down. He knew the drill from pulling people over on his days on patrol. Now that he was in Intelligence, he practically just ripped the criminals out of their cars and handcuffed them against the side of their (usually stolen) car.

He got out his license and registration, along with his badge because he did have his service weapon with him. He'd be damned not bringing it with him in this day and age...and sometimes there were coyotes and he and Will didn't know if the old hunting rifle at the cabin that your grandpa used to use even had ammunition in and if there was even any ammunition at the cabin.

Jay rolled down his window as the officer walked up to him.

Your hands started to sweat and your heart started to race as you remembered your last encounter with an officer that you didn't know.

You were driving home from the library late at night after studying for a biology exam. And no, the library wasn't an excuse for going out and partying. You genuinely had gone to the library and had had a great and very focused study session for a few hours.

All of a sudden, you saw flashing lights and heard sirens. You turned down your music. You looked in your rear-view mirror and saw that the cop was right on your tail. He turned off his sirens and then turned them on and off quickly.

You were the one getting pulled over.

You pulled off to the side of the road and then rolled down your window.

"License and registration," the officer told you. He looked young, maybe a rookie.

"What's the problem officer?" you asked. Jay always told you that you had a right to know why you had been pulled over.

"You were going three miles over the speed limit, did you know that?"

"I don't recall how fast I was driving." Jay always told you never to admit to speeding because then you could fight the ticket if you ended up getting one.

"License and registration, please," he repeated.

"Reaching into my glove compartment and moving some CDs to get my registration," you narrated and then handed the registration to the officer. "Reaching over to my passenger seat to grab my purse which has my license in it...unzipping my purse...reaching in for my license." You handed him your license.

He ran your information and then came back to the window. "I'm sorry, Miss, but I have to give you a ticket."

You furrowed your eyebrows. For three miles over the speed limit? No fucking way was this happening.

"Uh," was all you could say.

"But, there is something you can do to get out of this ticket. You help me out, I help you out."

"I- I don't understand," you stuttered.

He looked down and you followed where he was looking and cupping himself with the hand that wasn't holding your license and registration.

"I- I..."

"Or I can just up this speeding ticket to going twenty miles over it. Say there was an open container in the car, too," he said.

You had no idea what to say. You couldn't risk getting your insurance upped and getting a minor in possession charge. You'd never be allowed to drive again!

But, there's no way you'd do this. You couldn't. But he was so much bigger than you that he could hold you down with one hand tied behind his back.

He placed his hand on the door handle. "You have three seconds to make your decision. One...Two..."

"My brother's Jay Halstead! Badge number 51163! His Sergeant's Hank Voight!" Your voice trembled as you yelled that and you were close to tears.

He looked back down at your license. It did say Y/N Halstead on it. He handed you back your license and registration. "Have a nice night."

Then, he walked back to his patrol car, got in, turned off the sirens, and drove off. You were so scared that you didn't even look to see what his last name or badge number was.

Once you had stayed pulled over for a good couple of minutes to make sure that the cop was nowhere in sight, you started driving again. You stopped at a drive-thru and got yourself a chocolate flurry with Oreos. Then, you sat in the parking lot with your hands still shaking and your heart still racing as you ate and started to cry. You cried for almost half an hour and waited there for another fifteen minutes so your eyes wouldn't be as puffy when you got home because you didn't want Jay asking questions.

"Y/N, you good?" Jay asked, taking you out of your thoughts.

"Yeah, yeah," you said quickly...almost too quickly. "Why?"

"Will just asked if you wanted to go back because we missed a song and you didn't answer."

"Yeah, I can do that." You quickly went back to the previous song and tried to sing with as much happiness as you did previously. But, you didn't get the image of that night or the feeling of dread out of your stomach for another hour.

***

You woke up the next morning very well-rested. The boys had taken the loft and the two twin beds that were up there and you got to take your mom and dad's old room because you were the only girl, so they said it was only fair that you got the bedroom.

You heard the dripping of water and got out of bed and then padded down the hall and to the kitchen. Jay was standing there in pajama pants and a t-shirt. (Thank God he wasn't shirtless for once in the morning. Your brothers really needed to learn how to put shirts on when they walked out of their rooms in the morning...and maybe by you telling them to put a shirt on all the time, you training them had finally paid off.) He drummed his fingers on the counter while he waited for the coffee to be done.

"Morning," you said.

He turned around. "Good morning. Shocked you're awake. It's only 8 am."

"And I'm shocked you haven't been up for two hours," you retorted.

"Oh, I've been up for an hour, just been reading upstairs. Will's not up yet, though."

"He always sleeps late when he doesn't have to work though, doesn't he?"

"Pretty much. We've made breakfast plans before and he's missed them because he was sleeping."

The timer went off on the coffee pot, alerting you that it was finished. Jay started to pour his in a tumbler. He held out a tumbler to you. You raised an eyebrow, silently wondering why he wasn't pouring it into a mug.

"I was gonna go for a morning canoe ride. You can come along if you want. Wouldn't want hot coffee spilling all over us," he told you.

"Did you bring creamer?" you asked.

"Irish cream creamer, just for you."

You reached into the fridge and grabbed the creamer.

"So, canoe ride?" Jay asked.

"Sure."

He poured coffee into a tumbler for you and then slid it to you to put your desired amount of creamer in.

***

Twenty minutes later, you were starting out in the canoe. You told Jay there was no way in hell that you'd be doing the rowing. He told you that he could only row with one arm because of his sling, so you'd have to do the other side. Skeptically, you started rowing. Jay told you that you'd be fine, just to follow his instructions.

Fifteen minutes later, when you were out in the middle of the lake, facing the forests of Wisconsin, he stopped.

"Why'd you stop?" you asked.

He picked up his tumbler of coffee off the floor of the canoe. "We need to talk."

"About what?" you asked as you picked up yours as well and held it with both hands.

"About your reaction last night when I got pulled over. You freaked. I need to know why."

"I- I didn't freak. I was just tired," you lied.

"You had quite the amount of energy right before that," he quipped.

"It's nothing."

"Y/N, I'm not letting this go. Is it because of the protests and riots and because of all the media coverage and those few bad apple cops and, I guess the system, that you're seeing that's making you nervous?"

"No, it's not that."

"Then what is it?"

"You're not going to let this go are you?" you asked.

"I will stay in this canoe in the middle of the lake until you tell me what is going on, Y/N Halstead."

"You wouldn't."

Jay shrugged with the arm that wasn't currently in a sling. "Try me."

You sighed. "Just don't be mad that I didn't tell you sooner, okay?"

"I won't. You have my word on that."

"So, a little over a month ago I was driving home from the library..."

***

When you finished, you were in tears. "Did you get a last name? Badge number?" Jay asked as he rubbed circles on your back with his good hand.

You sniffled. "N- No. I'm sorry."

"You have nothing to apologize for. Nothing at all."

"If I wouldn't have said- said your name...He had his hand on my door handle! And he was so much bigger than me. I'm sorry!"

You turned and buried your face in his chest. "Y/N, you have nothing to be sorry for."

"I should've told you right away, though! But you just had that really rough case and I didn't want to put too much on your shoulders and--"

"Y/N, I need you to take a deep breath. You need to breathe. This was not your fault. None of it was."

You calmed your breathing and just sat there, silent tears streaming down your face.

"That's why I wanted to go to the protests," you said after a few minutes. "Because I've actually had a bad experience with a cop."

"Which should've never happened in the first place."

"I was so scared," you whispered.

Jay just hugged you tighter as he thought about how strong his little sister was. You had given blood to save his life even though you knew you'd feel terrible after and you hadn't told him about this horrible cop--which he would kick this cop's ass the minute the got back to Chicago--because you didn't want him to have too much on his plate after that terrible case where he put an innocent man in jail and got him killed...which was the main reason he had been shot.

"When we get back to the cabin, I'll try and call Voight. I don't know if I'll have service, though."

"Why?" you asked.

"I'm gonna have him look up who was on their beat near you that night so he can go interrogate people on my behalf. Probably best he does it and not me." Because Jay knew that the minute he saw that cop, he wouldn't be able to hold himself back.

You nodded.

"Hey, cheer up, kid. We're here for two weeks, away from everything. Away from the city and everything that goes on there. And I can promise you that that cop will get what's coming to him, whether that be losing his job or going to jail or prison."

"Do I have to tell Will? Or can you tell him? I really don't want to talk about this again."

"I can do it," Jay answered. "Speaking of Will, if he's not up when we get back, what do we say we wake him up with some cold lake water?"

"Like dump it on him?" you asked as you widened your eyes. Jay nodded. "No, that's mean. Then he'll have to wait for his sheets to dry out and they'll smell the entire time."

"We have spare sheets and blankets in the closet."

"Fine, let's do it. But just so you know, I'm telling him that it was your idea and I also have a lock on my bedroom door here, which will make it harder for him to sneak in and dump water on me."

"I will be sleeping in your room tonight," Jay joked.

"Nope. It was your idea, so you're gonna have to live with Will's payback."

Those two weeks were filled with laughter, pranks, board games, corn hole, swimming, fishing (well, you read either in the canoe or on the dock while the boys fished), and just spending time with each other. You were glad that Will had the bright idea to take two weeks up here...even though he got drenched in cold lake water the first morning by you and Jay.

A/N: I got a request from @ La_lectrice_33 on wattpad for Y/N going to the dentist, so I hope you liked that little scene! I also got a request from an anon on here about Jay and Will's reactions to her growing up, so I put that in here, too. Thank you for over 23k reads! I won't be posting until this Sunday (August 1) when I start posting AUs for AU-gust. Please remember to like/reblog and comment because I love seeing those like/reblog notifications pop up and love reading your comments and asks! As always, if you would like to be added to my tag list, just tell me and I’ll add you! Finally, like my imagines? Buy me a coffee (only $1 through Paypal and other currencies can be used) here: https://www.buymeacoffee.com/Kayela

taglist: @theambracer88 @virtualreader @kelelas-life @celyndavies @brookerz122493 @musicismyescape27 @anotherfan07 @thexplosivegirl @dreamingwithlens @xoxmariaxox @onechicago18 @iamasimpingh0e @i-like-sparkly-things @herecomesthewriterwitch @liampayne88

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gale-gentlepenguin · 3 years ago

Text

ML Fic: Soulmate Survey Part 36

Sorry about the delay. But now its here and its ready for consumption.

Also, Shout to @asongeverlasting for beta reading for me and making sure I actually got this out.

Check her writing out on AO3 as ShamelesslyRomantic,

(Master post)

(Read the fic in a more condensed on Ao3)

_____________________________________________________________

“Finished,” the artist akuma stated as he addressed his master.

Masquerade got up from her throne to look at the room. The classroom had been transformed into a rather spacious throne room. The artist had erased and redrawn walls to ensure the room was much larger. This new space also had several large windows adorned with elegant black and white curtains hanging from the top. Reflekta servants decked out in masquerade themed armor stood at attention on each step leading to her throne. Beautiful artwork of her decorated the walls, including an imposing portrait of her behind her throne that made it look as if she was looking down at everyone looking up at it. To her that came off as self-interested yet tasteful. The masked akuma even loved the addition of a red carpet that led up to her throne.

“This is quite satisfactory, Evillustrator. Just be sure to reinforce the walls of the room then head to the roof and locate Simularé. I want this place to be a fortress,” Masquerade ordered

“Understood,” the akuma nodded, his expression unreadable from the white face mask. He quickly headed to the door out of the room and Stone heart was guarding the door with his large frame and had to let the artist out.

“Gamer! Robostus! Status report!”

“We have made it so we could hack into every screen in Paris that is connected to the internet, as per your request,” the Gamer responded in monotone.

Masquerade smiled at that.

“Excellent. Do we have the cameras ready?”

The Reflekta copies near the robot akuma were being outfitted with recording gear.

“Affirmative, we will be ready to go live at your request.”

The masked akuma smiled at that news, she turned her attention to Princess Fragrance and the original Reflekta, who had just finished turning the last of the captured individuals into obedient copies of her.

“Has everyone in the school been rounded up and handled?”

“Dark Cupid and Reverser are doing a final sweep of any runaway stragglers. Stormy weather is going around flooding and freezing any empty hallways to flush out any that are hiding. There are Reflekta copies guarding the blocked off exits should anyone try and escape. But over 96% of the student body has been accounted for and 99% of all Faculty.” Princess Fragrance answered.

‘The missing ones are likely Marinette and Adrien. Those two never did make anything easy for me, did they? But it didn’t matter, their luck would run out soon enough. Once Ladybug and Chat noir were handled, then I could focus on making them pay,’ Masquerade grinned to herself.

She could picture how it would be, finding them and seeing their desperate faces as they realized that no hero would be able to save them. The first thing she would do was show them both her little empire. They thought she was bad when she had the school wrapped around her finger, they will be mortified when they see Paris. She would have all their friends and family captured, their best friends leading the cruel treatment of the rest. This would have them in tears and begging for mercy.

She did once consider letting Adrien be her boyfriend, with some perfume to sway him. He would have been a perfect boytoy to taunt Marinette with, but Masquerade realized how far above him she was now. She didn’t need him anymore, and truthfully, he was just as bad as Marinette, if not worse. Marinette had the audacity to dislike her and challenge her, but Adrien, he was so condescending, acting like she should be better than her actions. She could swear she saw pity in his eyes, and that was so much worse.

Though she wasn’t completely heartless, if they begged to be her personal servants and apologized for standing against her, then maybe she would let them have some mercy. Having Marinette clean up after her and make those admittedly delicious baked goods would be nice and having Adrien wait on her hand and foot like a personal butler would be quite fun. Maybe they would think if they did a good enough job their families would suffer less.

She did want to daydream about that idea more but she knew that she needed to focus on the present.

“Alright, Let’s start moving to stage 2. Gamer! I want a comprehensive list of every akuma victim outside of the school. Robostus! Make sure the cameras and broadcast are ready when I tell you. I want everything to go off without a hitch.”

“Affirmative!” Gamer and Robostus responded in equal robotic unison.

“Reflekta! Princess Fragrance! After all of the copies pick up the stragglers, I want you scanning the area for Ladybug and Chat noir. Bubbler and Lady Wifi… wait. I think I remember something.”

She paused to check her charm, she noticed the question mark charm and touched it, allowing her to focus and see what akuma it was.

“Cancel that order, remain on standby unless we get approached.”

“Yes… so this is what that voice meant by merging. How very interesting. I think I will let that new akuma keep its directive. Ladybug and Chat noir will have no chance of beating...”

An akuma merged with Lady Wifi, Bubbler and Oblivio. Combined to make something new. Something that she knew even the heroes would have trouble fighting.

“Deadzone.” Masquerade said with a devilish grin.

______________________________________________________________________________

Ladybug and Chat Noir made their way down the hall. They easily dealt with a few Reflekta clones without much effort and continued moving.

They were expecting to see more akuma lurking about, but strangely, the halls they were walking down were all either empty or only covered by Reflekta duplicates.

“Masquerade likely has her stronger forces consolidating after bringing in as many people to her as they could. Those that didn’t hit the mark likely got turned into the copies we bumped into.” Ladybug answered.

“That does explain why they were singing, like when Princess Fragrance made servants,” the cat hero added.

“This might be our only time to catch a break before confronting her.”

“So, since we have time, do you mind if I ask if you're free to go on Patrol tonight?” the cat hero casually inquired.

Ladybug stopped.

“Tonight? That is quite sudden. Plus, we still don’t know how this will play out.” Ladybug gestured to the school.

“Well I am going to assume we stop the akuma and save the day like always.” Chat noir commented. “Call it a safe bet, but we usually win.”

“Always the positive outlook, Chaton. I’m glad you have so much faith in us despite our numbers disadvantage.”

“You said it yourself, most of the servants are pushovers or just puppets. The only real threat is Lila. And we have faced worse."

“True, but not anything this sinister,” Ladybug tacked on.

“Didn’t we fight Hawkmoth a couple of months back?” Chat noir asked with a twinge of confusion. Was Ladybug implying what he thought she was?

Ladybug held her tongue.

“You’re kidding right? You think Lila is eviler than Hawkmoth!” Chat Noir exclaimed in shock.

“No no no! Not eviler … just a bit cleverer than him,” Ladybug confessed.

Chat noir looked at his partner skeptically, but then considered her words.

“She is manipulative. Considering even without being akumatized she has done some rather twisted stuff. But thinking she is evil is a bit much. Especially when there is someone responsible for forcing emotionally vulnerable people to do his bidding,” Chat noir pointed out.

“Isn’t that what she is doing right now?”

“Yes, but she was akumatized. If we started blaming people for their actions as akuma we would have to throw innocent people in jail.”

“Right… but you read that article on the Ladyblog right? She could be more than just a victim of Hawkmoth, she could be an ally.”

The Cat hero thought about it more but was still not entirely convinced.

“I guess underestimating her would be dumb, but maybe she isn’t completely evil. I mean Chloé ended up showing a bit of humanity and did some good, maybe Lila is capable of it too.”

The crimson clad heroine smiled a bit.

“That’s what I like about you, Chat, you always focus on the good in others.”

The black clad hero gave a Cheshire grin.

“When it comes to the team, you’re the brains, and I’m the sidekick who brings the smiles and the heartfelt speeches.”

“You aren’t my sidekick, Chat Noir, we are partners. And you could be the brains too, if you would use yours outside of pun making.” Ladybug playfully bonked his noggin.

The cat chuckled at the playful teasing.

“Fair enough, but I can’t help it if I FELINE making a quip.”

Ladybug could feel herself groan at the lame joke.

“I take it back… you are the sidekick,” Ladybug deadpanned, her tone of mock annoyance causing the cat to chuckle.

“Alright I’ll…” He stopped speaking as he noticed something was amiss.

Chat Noir’s left ear twitched. He heard approaching footsteps.

“We better get moving, this abandoned hallway isn’t going to be so abandoned in a minute.”

“More Reflekta clones?”

Chat Noir extended the staff to the ground, his face showing a sudden sternness.

“No… Winter is coming.”

______________________________________________________________________________

Viperion peered through the door of the locker room.

“Clear.”

The snake and dragon heroes entered with their akuma prisoner.

“Pick a locker and let’s toss her in,” Ryuuko commented as she held the squirming akuma.

The two paused their movement when they heard a rustling in the lockers.

“Do you hear that?” Viperion questioned.

“How could I not?” Ryuuko replied.

Just as the two stared at the rustling lockers. The two shaking lockers doors flew off their hinges.

And stepped out an akuma that neither hero recognized.

“I don’t remember seeing that akuma before,” Ryuuko stated.

“Neither do I, but it seems vaguely familiar,” Viperion responded.

As the Akuma was gathering its bearings, the heroes tried to gauge its powers. It had broad shoulders that had spherical, dark purple balls around them, which were connected to tight black sleeves with 3 white circular stripes at the end that ended at his wrists. Its left hand had a fingerless black glove which showed its skin akin to a purple silhouette. The other hand was what appeared to be a black laser canon with a phone attached to it. On its back was a large red, purple and black pipe which seemed to act as a holster to a blue bubble wand. Its face was obscured by a large white theater mask much like all the other akuma. But there was the impression that it had distinct features. Its chest had a rounded purple bubble on the top half of its body akin to round armor and it had a logo that appeared to be a WiFi signal within an eye in a cage. The lower half appeared more akin to a skintight jumpsuit that was black with white stripes at the feet.

The akuma turned its attention to the two heroes.

“So umm… what are you doing in the locker room?”

“Merge complete, Deadzone is active. Mission objective, Capture Ladybug and Chat Noir,” The akuma answered in a robotic tone less as a response to the question and more as a statement, their voice sounded like the mix of two people.

“Well, Deadzone, we can’t let you do that!” Ryuuko exclaimed as she glared at the akuma.

The akuma pointed its blaster at her.

“Your opinion on that really doesn’t have an impact on us.”

Deadzone’s left hand touched the phone on their blaster, and a purple bubble with a pause insignia shot out. Ryuuko and Viperion both jumped back as the bubble had direct contact with their akuma prisoner, causing her to be motionless as the bubble turned green and floated to the roof of the room.

“Okay, so don’t touch the bubbles,” Viperion noted.

“Positive side, we don’t need to worry about that one akuma,” Ryuuko commented.

Viperion and Ryuuko knew this akuma would be trouble if it got to Ladybug and Chat noir. They were going to need to find a way to stop it.

______________________________________________________________________

Fu had been observing the spoiled Mayor’s daughter after her confrontation with the Reflekta replicas. Using it as a means to help him find Ladybug and Chat Noir. He was aware that this girl had a knack for getting into trouble and making akuma target her, so it would not be too far off to assume she would be useful in locating his chosen. He would have called her, but communication was down, so he would need to adapt. But now he had a rather interesting quandary.

“Should I lend her the miraculous or not?” Fu spoke quietly as he pondered.

It was a tougher question he had initially thought. If he was asked if she was worthy of being a miraculous user, the answer would undoubtedly be negative. She was clearly a spoiled brat who saw herself above others. But after the events when the bee miraculous temporarily fell into her hands, he had started observing her. He did this with all of the chosen ones that Marinette had picked. Not because he didn’t trust his student, but more out of curiosity of why Marinette picked these individuals.

With the one she picked for the fox miraculous, Fu could see that the girl valued justice, but was cunning and saw the importance of distinguishing truth from illusion, an ideal pick for the fox miraculous. As for the Turtle miraculous wielder, Wayzz spoke highly of Nino, which really made him curious about the young lad. That boy showed a willingness to protect those close to him even if it meant getting hurt, and the calm to be ready to wait and roll with things. The miraculous of protection required someone that can keep a cool head and be ready to defend at the drop of a hat.

The other temporary heroes matched pretty well with the traits of the Kwami and were all good people deep down. Fu had no doubts that Marinette had the instincts of a guardian. The only one that brought doubt was Chloé. After the incident where she found the miraculous and got akumatized, Chloé was trusted with the bee miraculous 3 times. And her record had been mixed but overall she was decent when she fell in line and worked with Ladybug and Chat Noir.

Marinette mentioned that she didn’t want to trust Chloé with the miraculous after the last time. But has admitted to Fu that if needed she was a decent Bee heroine.

But if he was wrong and she decided to use this chance to stay being a miraculous wielder, he would have to deal with her as a rogue. Though, considering the circumstances, that would honestly not be the worst situation, as her identity was public and Ladybug and Chat Noir would deal with her like before.

“Wayzz, what do you think?”

His kwami companion popped out of his shirt pocket.

“This is quite a dilemma, Master. The situation is dire, but putting the miraculous in the wrong hands would also make things worse. Perhaps Pollen would be able to give better insight.”

“Very true, my friend.” Fu patted the kwami.

Fu cautiously went into the cleaning cart and pulled out the Bee Miraculous. The bee kwami popped out.

“Good morning, Master,” Pollen greeted the guardian with respect.

“Good afternoon, Pollen. We have a situation and I would like to know your opinion.”

“Very well, I am happy to serve,” The bee kwami replied.

“What do you think of Chloé Bourgeois? The one that used your miraculous recently.”

The kwami put her little hand to her face as she compiled her thoughts.

“She is complicated, Master. She didn’t talk to me much but I kind of got to feel a lot about who she was as a person. She is brash, she is confident, yet she is insecure. She is blunt, stubborn, and set in her ways. But I can tell that she is at a crossroads in her life. There is some small part of her that wants to be good and do good for others outside of herself, but her upbringing has made such a mindset seem like weakness, and she is scared of letting herself be vulnerable. Ladybug has been a good influence on her, but she is still immature in several aspects. She has the potential to be a good queen. If she could break through that self-imposed selfish mentality, she could be something extraordinary,” Pollen explained, finally.

“I see, well that is quite informative. Thank you,” Fu responded, nodding thoughtfully.

He put the Bee Miraculous back in a tiny box, causing her to go dormant.

“So, she is at a crossroad.” Fu repeated as he stroked his chin

He turned his attention back to Chloé, who had continued walking towards another dead end. When he caught the eye of approaching Reflekta clones. And with that, Fu figured out a way to know.

“I think I just found a way to know the correct answer.”

______________________________________________________________________

“I swear this place is a maze.” Mayura grumbled to herself as she walked the halls.

She noticed her fan shake, notifying her of someone calling. It was Hawkmoth

“Yes?”

“Mayura what are you doing?! You were supposed to find the target and get out!” Hawkmoth exclaimed angrily. “And why did you transform? You knowutilizing the Peacock Miraculous is dangerous.”

Though she wouldn’t admit it, she was somewhat touched by the concern in his voice. Unfortunately, she did not have time to dwell on that so she was going to ignore it, as she had a task at hand

“Some unforeseen circumstances have caused some rather unfortunate delays. I am going to locate the sentimonster and gather information regarding the target. Afterwards, I will assist in getting Ladybug and Chat Noir’s Miraculous.” Mayura responded.

As she was speaking, an akuma with black wings flew into view along with an akuma riding a paper airplane.

“Seems the akuma servants have located me.”

She notices the akuma began preparing to attack her. They were practically mindless puppets that saw anyone who wasn’t their master as an enemy. This was quite an oversight, but it fit with the motif of the akuma villain. She felt the emotions of that girl, she knew exactly the type of insecurities Lila held. Thankfully for her, it meant they could easily be exploited.

“Get out of there this instant it is too dangerous. You are in no shape to…”

The akumas aimed at the unidentified villainess and fired off paper airplanes and arrows.

“We will discuss this later.” Mayura hung up before turning her attention to the two servants of Masquerade.

Mayura dashed through the hall, expertly avoiding projectiles and blocking with her fan those she couldn’t dodge. She jumped onto Reverser’s glider, grabbed the akuma and threw him at the flying Dark Cupid, leaving the two dazed and tangled together.

“I’m weakened, not helpless,” Mayura commented as she dusted herself off and hopped off the floating paper airplane.

She noticed that the two akuma that attacked her were slow in getting up.

‘Seems the akuma created by Masquerade aren’t just mindless, they are also rather slow in reacting. Ladybug and Chat Noir can exploit that. I suppose with the number of servants she made, this was to be expected. I should locate Simularé and get some details on our akuma’s little plan. I should step in and seize control if she gets too distracted like the last one. Gabriel has always been far too cautious when it comes to his plans, it’s time we were more active.’ Mayura mentally concluded.

She closed her eyes and focused on locating the sentimonster.

“She is on the roof. Odd placement for her most powerful ally, but I suppose there must be some sort of logical reason for what she is planning,” Mayura rationalized.

The peacock themed villainess noticed that the akuma that attacked her were starting to move again, and she decided to pick up her pace a bit.

______________________________________________________________________________

“This is super ridiculous! Utterly ridiculous!” she exclaimed with anger. “Not a single exit in this place! Why is every exit coated in icky slime?”

She checked her phone.

“And still no signal.”

She ended up chucking her phone out of frustration.

“I wish Ladybug would just get here and beat the akuma, or better yet, come here and give me the bee miraculous so I can help kick butt,” she grumbled as she went to go see where she threw her phone. She'd remembered she actually liked the case she just bought for it and losing that would be a waste.

“H-help me please!” The wails of a person in danger caught Chloé’s attention.

“That sounds like a non-me issue,” the blonde told herself. As she continued walking to her phone.

“If only there was someone here to save me!” the voice called out again.

Chloé stopped moving for a moment.

“Well I am not a hero without the Bee, so I guess he better hope Ladybug and Chat Noir are nearby, or maybe those other two costumed nobodies that I saw earlier,” she said, clearly trying to convince herself not to do anything.

“Please! Ladybug! Chat Noir…. “

"The heroes will handle it." Chloé reasoned with herself as she picked up her phone. Now getting ready to go somewhere else and likely away from the screaming.

“ And a…Queen Bee.”

Chloé’s eyes went wide. Did someone call out for… Queen Bee?!

Chloé started dashing down the halls to the sound of the voice.

“Did someone call for a hero!” Chloé called out, looking confident.

She arrived to see an old man in an ugly Hawaiian shirt being cornered by 3 Reflekta copies. The akuma copies turn to Chloé.

“Surrender,” they sing-songed as they began to approach.

Chloé ran right at them, and proceeded to push them into each other, and let the impractical heels make it hard for them to get back up.

She rushed to the old man.

“Don’t worry, old man with good taste in heroes and nothing else. I, Queen Bee, am here to save you,” Chloé blustered.

“Thank you.” Fu said with a forced smile. She clearly only came when he mentioned her name. But she did show up. In hindsight, maybe his test was not as conclusive as he thought. But then again, he actually planned those out more.

Chloé looked around.

“Alright old man, normally I would have just left you to get saved by Ladybug, but you have good taste in heroes, so I am going to help you out. We need to move before those creepy akumas get back up. So follow me, I know a place you can hide out.” Her tone tried to come off as abrasive, but it did show an inkling of care.

Chloé began moving away from the cluster of Reflektas. The old man shrugged and followed behind. He supposed that this would be another good test for her. Maybe he will get a more definitive answer by keeping an eye on her. And if worse comes to worse, he had a feeling she would make a good distraction should he need to escape a band of akuma.

______________________________________________________________________

“Did you just make a...”

Ladybug was able to pick up on the sound of harsh wind heading their way and decided her scolding of lame references could wait for later. She grabbed her partner's arm and pulled him into the nearby science lab.

She quickly closed the door just as a cold front blasted right past them. The window on the door was covered in ice.

“Stormy Weather?”

“Stormy Weather.”

The two both look at each other with a bit of worry. The storm akuma was one of their more powerful foes, and with complete control of the weather in such a tight space, things were going to get tough.

“Any ideas?”

Ladybug weighed her options. Would now be the time to use her lucky charm? or should she save it for when they are in front of Masquerade? It was starting to get harder to make that call.

“We can’t have her roaming the halls, we will need to incapacitate her. So I say have your ice power up ready, and be ready to swap power ups at the drop of a hat. Stormy Weather may be tough, but we still have tricks up our sleeve.”

Chat Noir nodded.

“Sounds like a plan.”

Ladybug and Chat Noir both popped their Ice blue power ups and shift into their Ice forms. The two watched as the other’s suit gained ice skates, ice crystal and snowflake accents, becoming Ladyice and Icecat.

(AN: Yes, according to the Wiki, that’s what they are calling them. Personally, I would have called them Ladyfrost and Cold noir/ Cool Cat but that’s just me. This isn’t relevant to the story, I just wanted you all to know that.)

“You know, Ladybug, you really give off the ice skater vibe. Would you say you have experience ice skating outside of this form?” Chat Noir asked.

Ladybug felt her mind flash to her date with Adrien and her cheeks turned red.

“I- I may have some experience. And how about you, Kitty?” she deflected.

“Well, now that you mention it, I…”

They heard a loud bang on the door, cracking the ice that covered the window to reveal the white theater mask that Stormy Weather had covering her face.

“I’m gonna give it to her, she really knows how to break the Ice,” Chat Noir joked.

“Chaton, cool it with all of the ice puns,” she stated.

“Wait, was that a pun? My Lady I... OH SHI…”

A large ice stalactite burst through the door interrupting their banter and almost skewering them.

Chat Noir was about to say something when Ladybug cut in.

“Chat Noir, you are my partner and I respect you greatly. But so help me, if you say we should put this conversation on ‘Freeze’, I will not save you if you get impaled.” Ladybug stated.

Chat Noir paused.

“You know me so well,” he said with a smile.

The two watched as Stormy Weather entered the room through the stalactite hole.

______________________________________________________________________

“Hey Viperion?”

“Yea Ryuuko?”

“We both agree that we need to stop that crazy akuma right?”

“That is correct.”

“Then why are you carrying me away from it!?” Ryuuko exclaimed.

Viperion had picked up the dragon heroine fireman style in order to pull her away from the pursuing akuma.

“Do you want the reasons in alphabetical order?” the snake hero sassed.

“We can take it,” Ryuuko asserted. “We can’t retreat! There is no honor in it!”

“Well considering neither of our weapons can touch them, the concept of honor has flown out the window. Not to mention, I seriously doubt that we can take them on without a plan, and don’t say ‘try to hit them harder’ is a plan. It isn’t.”

Viperion had a smug look as he noticed Ryuuko look away.

“You’re right, but I'm mad about it,” the dragon heroine huffed.

“I can live with that.”

Viperion took a sharp left and noticed a dozen Reflekta duplicates.

“Juleka?”

“Come with us,” the clones sang.

“I’m going to assume they aren’t her,” Ryuuko said as she got off Viperion’s shoulders.

She punched his arm.

“Ow.”

“Your shoulder was bumpy.”

Ryuuko drew her weapon and dashed past the group of Reflekta clones. After a second, she holstered her weapon and all of the clones dropped to the floor groaning.

“Wow.” Viperion was impressed. He had to admit that it was super cool.

“Don’t worry, I used the flat end of the sword. They will be fine, and hopefully they will slow down the akuma.”

The two continued running, but glanced back as Deadzone arrived. He looked at the clones getting up and blasted each one into a green bubble in which they remained motionless and floated to the ceiling of the hall.

“It can’t distinguish between friend or foe,” Viperion commented.

“What?”

Viperion turned to his comrade.

“I think I just got an idea.”

__________________________________________________________________________

“This way,” the bossy blond teen motioned.

Fu pushed his janitor cart as they moved in the hallway.

“Do you really need to move that hideous thing with us?” Chloé questioned with clear aggravation.

“It's very important,” Fu responded.

“Ugh, whatever. Just move faster, then.”

Fu nodded and picked up the pace.

The mayor’s daughter led them down the hall and they had managed to avoid attracting attention.

“Okay, we are here.”

Fu looked at the door and realized that it was the nurse’s office.

“Hopefully the nurse didn’t get herself captured while I was gone.”

Chloé went to open the door and noticed it was locked.

“What the…”

“Let me try.” Fu interjected.

“Fine, just hurry up.”

He pulls out a jingling set of keys. Chloé shrugged as she turned around to keep watch.

Fu let his kwami companion out to open the door. Wayzz quickly undid the lock and opened the door before sliding back out of view.

“All done,” Fu said.

Chloé turned around as Fu opened the door.

The two quickly ran inside and locked the door behind them.

“Nurse Arugula!” Chloé called out. “I have a guest for you!”

“Arugala?”

“It was something with an A.” Chloé commented.

The two waited a few seconds, but there was no response.

They moved deeper into the office.

“Are you here?” Chloé questioned.

They flicked on the light switch to see the nurse in the cot.

“Oh, that’s great, I leave to go get help and be a hero and she goes off napping!” Chloé fumed.

Fu moved to the nurse and noticed she had a bruise on her neck, indicating that she was clearly forced into this state. He jabbed a pressure point and the nurse jolted awake.

“HUAGH!”

She nearly fell out of the cot.

“Glad you can join us from your nap,” Chloé hissed.

“Chloé? Did you call for help?” The nurse inquired as she gathered her bearings.

“No, the school is a total dead zone, and I couldn’t find a way out because they are all blocked by slime. Side note, I found this old guy.”

The nurse turned to the old man.

“Hello. I’m Angela.” She politely introduced herself.

“Nice to meet you. I am… Fung,” Fu lied. He couldn’t be too careful.

“Nice to meet you Fung, despite the circumstances,” she tried to make light of the situation.

“Every meeting can have a positive circumstance if one is looking for it.”

The calm in the air died when Angela realized that someone was missing.

“Oh no! The women you left in my care! She knocked me out and stormed out of here.” Angela exclaimed.

“Welp, she is probably captured,” Chloé shrugged.

“We have to find her, she has some sort of strange illness. Leaving her out there might be dangerous, akuma or not.”

Angela prepared to move to the door but was stopped by Chloé.

“Oh no you don’t! I brought this old man here for safety. You stay here with him.”

“But my patient!”

The woman was clearly shaking, but she was determined, she wanted to help her patient even if it meant going into danger. But much to Fu’s surprise, Chloé stepped up.

“I will bring your patient back. Mostly because being stuck in here seems much worse than dealing with a bunch of dumb akuma.”

Angela hugged Chloé.

“Thank you.”

Chloé tried to look annoyed, but a ghost of a smile appeared on the mayor’s daughter’s face. She accepted the hug for a moment.

Fu took notice. He had made his decision.

“Alright, enough touching! You deal with sick people all day. I don’t want germs,” Chloé stated as she tried to give off her usual air.

“That is very brave of you, young one.” Fu spoke.

“Pff, this is nothing. It’s what heroes do.”

As Chloé began making her way out of the nurse’s office, Fu quietly slipped the tiny miracle box into her bag.

‘I hope this was worth the risk.’

_____________________________________________________________

(END OF CHAPTER)

Well things are really heating up.

Will Ladyice and Icenoir be able to deal with stormy weather? Will Deadzone be the dead end for Ryuuko and Viperion? What is Masquerade's villainous plan? Will I update faster than every 40 or so days?

Let me know your thoughts and if you did enjoy the story.

REBLOG it and comment. Likes are nice but they don't really help content creators like they should.

352 notes · View notes

sparklysung · 4 years ago

Text

✨ADRENALINE RUSH PART II – n.j.m.✨

pairing – na jaemin x female!reader

genre – fluff, smut, angst | non-idol!au, school!au

warnings – good boy!soft dom!jaemin, bad girl!reader, heartbreak, penetration, unprotected sex (wrap your willies), creampie, dirty talk, pet names

word count – 4.731 words

summary – after leaving jaemin alone in the school’s library, there wasn’t only one heart broken.

note – it’s finally here! i hope it isn’t too bad, though, i don’t think i’m too good at writing stuff like this lmao. either way, enjoy! also, the gif isn’t mine, i found it on google, so credit to its owner!

taglist – @junguwuuu , @prvncejxon, @iwishihadabettername, @carelessshootanonymous

part i ; part ii

the next few days after you left jaemin all alone in the school’s library, you couldn’t help but feel bad for him.

you weren’t supposed to feel guilty, after all, that’s what you usually did; hookup with guys you found attractive and then never reach out for them again, pretending to not know them. and you have never had a problem with it before, you never got attached and they were aware of your reputation, so they knew what they were getting into.

but for some reason, jaemin was… different.

you weren’t really sure why, but something about him just made you feel things, things you have never felt with anyone else. you have never felt so good with any of the guys you had hooked up with. and by that, you didn’t only mean how good his touch felt on you, but also the sweet way he reacted to your loving pet names and caresses.

your heartless attitude only earned you what you had never thought you, a self-proclaimed cold-hearted bad girl would ever experience.

heartbreak.

now, jaemin tried everything to avoid you. he got out of his way so you wouldn’t bump into each other, leaving class as fast as humanly possible just so you wouldn’t be able to approach him. though he doubted you would ever get near him again, so he was actually doing you a favour, right?

after all, why else would you have left the way you did after your little rendezvous?

every time you happened to be in a room he had just stepped into, he turned around and left without giving you a second glance, face expressionless. but even when he tried to act tough in front of everyone else, you could see the pain in his eyes and it was slowly killing you.

truth is, you felt like a complete jerk.

scratch that, you knew you were.

but how could you comprehend the effect your actions had on jaemin if you didn’t even care?

as he had realized when you decided to walk away from him that awful day in the library, he meant nothing to you. and even though it hurt him to no end, that’s how life is.

cruel.

his friends knew something had happened to him. they could see how the usual spark in jaemin’s eyes was completely gone after you two got together to work on your genetics project. he usually kept to himself, which wasn’t really out of the ordinary coming from him, but lately he barely talked, only answering with monosyllables. he stopped taking part in their conversations, not even intervening when renjun and donghyuck’s bickering got out of hand.

“hey, nana, are you coming to chenle’s place later today? we’ll probably stay over and play games in his huge ass tv.” jeno’s cheerful voice made jaemin look up from his untouched lunch. he just nodded slightly before looking back down to his food.

he didn’t feel like talking or hanging out with anyone, but noticing the worried expression that had replaced jeno’s usual bright smile, he tried to put on his best smile. “sure,” he tried to reassure him. jeno didn’t seem so convinced, though he didn’t say anything about it.

his friends also noticed how he seemed to disappear whenever you were nearby, which confirmed their suspicions of something happening between you two. he usually took his time to get ready for his next class and was fairly organized, but from that day on, he didn’t even try, throwing all his belongings inside his back before rushing out of the door.

they were determined to find out what had happened with you to make jaemin stop being his usual self. the only problem was, how were they going to get it out of him?

~.~.~.~

“hyuck, go open the door, it must be jaemin.” jaemin could hear renjun’s voice yell from somewhere inside the house.

“ugh, you’re so annoying,” donghyuck rolled his eyes as he opened the door before going back upstairs to what he assumed was chenle’s room.

“dang, not even a hello,” shaking his head in disapproval, jaemin made his way inside, closing the door after himself.

noise –or more like screams– could be heard coming from upstairs as his friends were most likely already playing some game. he walked towards the kitchen where he found renjun and jeno preparing sandwiches and other snacks for all of them. when they saw jaemin walking in, they stopped what they were doing to look at him.

“hey, you came,” renjun smiled, happy to see his friend coming out of his newfound shell. just like the other guys, he was concerned about his sudden change of demeanor. he honestly missed his presence and dumb comments. not that he would ever tell him, though.

“can you help us with the drinks please?” jeno asked, hands full of snacks.

jaemin just nodded his head before taking six cups to fill with any drink he could find in chenle’s fridge. after they had emptied half of the cabinets, the three boys made their way to his friend’s bedroom in silence.

none of them knew what to say, or more like how to say it. renjun and jeno were dying to ask jaemin what was going on, why did he decide to stop hanging out as much with them, if they were right about you being involved in whatever happened. and jaemin could tell. he wasn’t blind to not notice the weird looks they constantly threw at each other, the way they quieted down every time he approached them. but he didn’t want to admit the mistake he had made. he couldn’t look them in the face after spoiling all their efforts to prevent this very situation from happening.

what would they think of him?

he was supposed to be the cautious one of them all, the one who wouldn’t get fooled so easily, the responsible one. but even if he knew for a fact you didn’t have good intentions, he still let himself fall and ended up hurt. how could he take care of his friends if he couldn’t even take care of himself.

“what took you so long?” jisung asked once they made it to their destination, snatching a few bags of chips from renjun’s arms.

“next time you’ll go get food, then,” the older boy clicked his tongue in annoyance, going to sit next to chenle on the bed.

nobody was surprised when jaemin sat by himself in a corner of the room, quietly staring at the floor. he didn’t even try to take part in their conversations, just nodding from time to time to assure them he was still listening. no one knew how to approach the situation, so chenle, tired of the weird ambiance the group of boys had been engulfed in for some time now, decided to take the initiative.

“what’s going on, jaemin? why can’t you tell us?” jaemin felt cold, mouth ajar in shock. he wasn’t expecting the topic to be brought up so soon and neither chenle to be the first one to confront him about it. “don’t even try to deny something’s up, we’re not dumb.”

“we want to help you, but we can’t do anything if you don’t trust us enough to tell us.”

and in that moment, jaemin finally broke.

“i fucked up,” his voice cracked, tears welling in his eyes, making his vision blurry.

“what? what do you mean?” donghyuck intervened. he wasn’t one to usually show concern but seeing his friend so distressed made his heart hurt.

“i hooked up with y/n that day we were supposed to work on our project.”

“we t-.”

“i know, alright! i know it was a mistake and i shouldn’t have let it happen, but now i don’t know what to do,” jaemin thought that venting to someone else about what happened would maybe make him feel better, but it didn’t, if something it actually made him feel worse. he was sure his friends though he was the biggest idiot in the whole world.

“shh, it’s okay, come here,” jeno opened his arms for jaemin, so the broken boy hugged him tightly, hiding the pained expression on his face in the elder’s shoulder.

“i don’t get it, how did this all happen?” a confused jisung asked, not understanding how the hell a simple project in pairs ended up in a hookup.

“i told her to meet me at the library so we wouldn’t be alone. i thought nothing could happen because there would be a lot of people around us, but things didn’t work out the way i thought they would,” and as jaemin told them the whole story, they couldn’t help but pity their friend.

“i thought maybe this time it would be different, you know? she talked to me as if she cared about me,” the dry chuckle he let out made the boys feel uneasy, “and i believed it.”

none of them doubted jaemin had at least a crush on you. yeah, sure, what you did was certainly not nice, but you weren’t together in any way. And that’s how hookups work, right? you fuck and then you leave. no feelings attached.

right?

“so you like her?” renjun asked, although it sounded more like a statement.

“i think i do.”

~.~.~.~

as much anxiety the thought of having to face you again sparked in jaemin, you both still needed to finish the project and you only had two days left. even if he didn’t feel ready to talk to you yet –though he doubted he would ever be–, he had to man up for the sake of his grades.

seeing as his strategy of working on it in a crowded place didn’t work, there wasn’t another option but to section the project and get it done each on its own.

so that’s what he intended when he waited for you in your locker, practicing his next move over and over again. the only thought in his head was getting out of the situation as soon as he could to avoid any kind of unnecessary interaction.

he was scared of his heart controlling his body and his actions rather than his head, as it would inevitably end in him falling for you once again and only more pain. it would be the perfect formula for yet another heartbreak.

and you were completely shocked when you saw him standing next to your locker, apparently waiting for you.

“you can finish the first half, i’ll do what’s left,” his eyes stayed trained on the floor as he spoke. he didn’t want to give you the satisfaction of seeing him so affected, so as soon as the words left his mouth, he was on his way, trying to flee the scene before you could react.

“jaemin, wait!” he stopped dead in his tracks, not bothering to turn around and look at you. “look, i-i’m really sor-.”

but he didn’t stay to hear the end of it.

he walked away just like you had done not even a week ago.

feeling a lump in your throat that made it harder for you to breathe, your heart shattered into tiny pieces you didn’t care to pick up as you stood frozen in place.

but yours wasn’t the only heart broken.

jaemin walked home with a heavy heart, eyes stinging from tears that threatened to run down his cheeks. his friends had warned him and yet there he was, sulking over you.

he felt like a fool. how could he have fallen into your trap? he knew the type of girl you were; a heartbreaker, a player, the bad girl. but either way, his heart betrayed him, pumping furiously whenever you smiled at him, whenever you got close enough for him to inhale your sweet perfume and feel your minty breath fan over his face.

anger boiled in his veins, why did you have to play with him like that? what did he ever do wrong to deserve it? he had never bothered you, always staying in his lane and out of your way. he didn’t like confrontations so he stayed away from them, and being near you always included some kind of trouble.

but what hurt him the most was that he actually believed your sweet words, soft touches and loving kisses meant something. that he was stupid enough to think they meant the same to you as to him.

as you watched his figure disappear in the distance, you realized you had fucked up big time and you weren’t sure there was any way you could fix it.

~.~.~.~

the very next day you found yourself walking as fast as your legs allowed you around the campus to find jaemin. you probably looked like you had gone crazy to everyone you walked past, hair messy and tired face. you pulled an all-nighter the night before, determined to finish your part of the project. you really weren’t that interested in your grade. actually, your only motivation was finding an excuse to talk to him.

half an hour later, you still hadn’t been able to find jaemin. you were utterly and completely frustrated, it felt like you had just wasted your time. but just as you were about to give up on your search, you found him.

he was walking down the hallway towards the opposite direction and away from you. you could only see the back of his head, but you could tell he wasn’t looking ahead but at the floor, like he had been doing ever since that day. your feet started moving on their own, directing you to him.

“jaemin, please, listen to me,” your fingers wrapped themselves around his wrist in an attempt to make him stay. he didn’t want to turn around, he didn’t want to see you or be anywhere near you.

the memory of you leaving the library after using him for your own pleasure hunted him. it may sound dramatic, but jaemin was tired of the pain you brought him. he hated the way your voice still made him feel all giddy and warm inside, he wanted to forget you for good and go on with his life as it was before.

“why should i?”

“because i want to apologize, just hear me out for a second,” you pleaded, not being able to find one good reason for him to stay.

“why would you even be sorry, anyway? you’ve never cared about others, why now and why me?” a bitter, full of hurt chuckle left his lips, eyes rolling in irony. his words felt like a punch to the stomach, the cold tone of his voice making your heart crack.

he was right, you had never cared about anyone else but yourself.

the cold-hearted behaviour jaemin witnessed in that library was what got you your infamous reputation at school; you did whatever you needed to do without looking back to see how it affected others.

that’s why it hurt so much now that you also cared about him.

“because you’re different,” you whispered, eyes closed in distress and white knuckles from how hard you were clenching your fists.

“w-what do you mean? stop playing around, i’m tired of getting hurt.”

“jaemin,” your expression softened, voice coming out in a sigh and helping him relax a little. “i’m not playing with you,” you took a deep breath before proceeding to spill your guts.

“i know i made a huge mistake acting the way i did, and when i say i’m sorry i really, truly mean it. i’m aware that the wound has already been done, but it makes my heart feel heavy to see you avoiding me. it’s selfish, i know, but i don’t want you to be away from me. i-i’m not sure what these feelings are or where they came from, the only thing i know is that i don’t want them to go away.”

what in the world was happening?

“i think i like you, na jaemin.”

“you like… m-me?” confusion was written all over his face, he couldn’t tell if you were being honest or not.

“yes, i like you, and if you’d give me a second opportunity i promise i’d make it worth it.”

and as much pain you had been causing him for the last few days, he couldn’t contain the butterflies that erupted in the pit of his stomach when he saw the sincerity your eyes held.

his body moved without him realizing, walking towards you until he could smell your sweet scent. you didn’t back down, staying still with eyes locked in his even when you were sure he could hear the crazy beating of your heart. you hoped he believed you, but even if he didn’t, you were determined to prove it to him, regardless of the price.

a surprised gasp fell from your lips when he leaned in with eyes closed, lips locking in a mind-blowing kiss. he tasted the same as last time, but the moment felt different. this kiss was less rushed, filled with strong feelings that you hoped were reciprocated.

had he accepted your apology and was willing to take you back after all you had done?

“does this mea-,” you broke away from the kiss to ask, but he cut you off quickly before going back to attack your mouth.

“i like you too,” your heart felt like it was about to explode, something you had never felt before.

your arms snaked around his neck as his hands positioned themselves on the small of your back, both trying to bring the other closer. your fingers went to his soft, fluffy hair to tug on it and jaemin groaned into your mouth.

for a moment, both of you forgot you were still in school’s grounds and anyone walking to their locker or next class could find you, but at that moment, nothing mattered.

his body felt like it was on fire, the burn almost addictive as he unconsciously pressed his hips into yours, letting you feel his growing boner. he was so into the kiss he didn’t notice at first how his body was reacting to your closeness, your scent filling his senses and plump lips moving against his. but when you responded with a roll of your hips, he gasped in surprise.

“come on, baby,” his heart pumped harder as you intertwined your fingers with his and dragged him to the teacher’s bathroom. after making sure no one was nearby, you got in and locked yourselves inside. you didn’t waste any time smashing your lips together, the kiss eventually turning rougher and full of lust.

when jaemin’s back touched the wall, he broke away from the kiss to regain his breath.

he wasn’t a resentful person, but he was determined to give you a taste of your own medicine. you were going to regret what you had done.

oh, sweet revenge.

the tables turned as he pushed you against the wall, pressing his body flush into yours. a surprised moan left your lips, hands going to his chest in a failed attempt of pushing him away and re-establishing your dominance.

“no, it’s my turn,” the new found confidence that was taking over his body made jaemin feel great. you were wordless because of the sudden change of attitude so he took the opportunity to pin both of your wrists above your head with only one of his hands and with the other, he grabbed your thigh and lifted it, holding it to his hip. with a roll of his hips, his hard cock grinded against your clothed core in such a way your legs almost buckled.

“look at you now, where did the mean girl attitude go?”

you could only moan, already feeling your damp panties stick to your folds uncomfortably, and he smirked at your lack of response. you wanted nothing more than for him to fuck you and now knew how desperate jaemin must have felt that day at the library with all your teasing.

“what do you want? tell me baby,” when you tried to free yourself from his grip, he tsked, only tightening it more. “i’m not letting you go, so stop being a brat. i asked you a question, tell me what you want.”

jaemin was enjoying every single second of having you so under his control. you had pegged him as someone who liked being dominated, but apparently you were wrong. by the looks of it, he was having the time of his life, not even caring about how long it's been since everything started, engraving in his brain every sound you made and the way your face contorted in pleasure when he pressed himself against you. he didn’t care about his reputation anymore either, after ruining you just the way you had done with him he would have had enough to make it worth it.

“i want to see you,” your hands twitched in his grip, fingers wanting nothing more than to tug on his shirt and undress him. last time you didn’t get to see him due to being in a public space, but now, locked inside the teacher’s bathroom, you could finally see him in his full glory. jaemin would normally feel shy about showing his body to someone else, especially a girl, but he couldn’t let his whole confident facade fall down, so he set you free, “unbutton it then, babygirl.”

you worked on unbuttoning his shirt as fast as you could and pussy clenched around nothing when you saw his toned abdomen and chest. he was stunning. your hands trailed down his body, caressing the soft skin, drinking in all the little details. in return, jaemin lifted yours above your chest to have easy access to your breasts. the hand that was previously holding you still now came to knead your soft boobs, groaning at the way your hips bucked against his cock.

“fuck me,” you managed to let out in a whimper.

“uhm, is that what you want?” you shook your head ‘yes’ as soon as the question came out of his mouth, eager to feel him inside once again. “then beg for it.”

you weren’t used to being the one to beg and as much as you hated following orders, you were willing to swallow your dignity if it meant he was going to touch you just how you needed.

“please, jaemin,” he shook his head, not satisfied by your response, “i’m so wet and it’s all just for you, i need you to fuck me, please” you felt your face heat up in embarrassment but you opted to ignore it. he hummed, letting go of your leg for a moment to slide your panties off your body and pull down his pants before gripping your thigh once again.

“your wish is my command,” you giggled at his cute antics, but the laughter soon got stuck in your throat when he slid his cock inside you. your eyes closed, head falling to the crook of his neck and hands gripping his biceps to hold yourself up, as jaemin groaned. you felt as tight as he could remember, but he still couldn’t get used to it. his legs trembled slightly as your walls squeezed around him, “f-fuck, still so tight.”

“move, please,” the stretch felt nice, but you needed more. and so he did as he was told, starting to slowly buck his hips into you before eventually building up a steady pace.

you felt so full with him snuggled deep inside of you, reaching places you didn’t know he could with the new position. his hips angled so he could hit your g-spot with every thrust, loud moans leaving your lips.

“if you keep being loud we’ll get caught baby,” his teeth nibbled on the skin of your neck, mouth sucking softly as to not leave marks, “or maybe that’s what you want? for someone to catch us fucking in school property?” your moans got louder so jaemin put his hand over your lips to shush you.

“uhm, that’d make so much more sense as to why you suddenly decided to risk my reputation and fuck me in the library where anybody could have seen us just with a turn of their heads.” his words came out so bluntly your eyes widened, body convulsing against his and high getting closer.

“f-faster, please, fuck me faster,” he obliged, lifting your skirt so it hung just above your waist to uncover your lower half. his hips snapped rougher than before as his thumb played with your sensitive clit, pressing harshly and circling furiously on it.

“oh my god, jaemin!” your eyes rolled to the back of your head, mouth falling open as muffled moans fell from your lips. jaemin’s pace got sloppy as your walls clamped down on him. he was finding it hard to move, both from the strong grip of your pussy and his nearing orgasm.

“that’s it, baby, come for me,” and with a particular flick of his fingers you were cumming hard, juices running down the inside of your thighs. jaemin fucked you through your orgasm and followed soon after, thick cum filling you up nicely. heavy pants could be heard all over the room, fogging the bathroom’s mirror.

after your breathing had evened, he pulled out and dropped your leg to let you stand up comfortably. neither of you made an effort to move away from the other, eyes staying locked in the other’s, sharing a last kiss before fixing your clothes as best as you could in the shortest period of time you could manage. you were most likely already running late for class so you didn’t have time to lose.

noticing the only piece of clothing you were missing were your panties, you started searching everywhere for it. you couldn’t get caught or else you would be in big trouble. two teenagers spending a considerable amount of time locked together in the teacher’s bathroom without the supervision of any adult wouldn’t look good to anyone.

at some point you began panicking, you couldn’t just leave your underwear in there, somebody was going to find it and you both would be fucked. for real this time.

“jaemin, have you seen my pant-.”

“your what?” you hadn’t noticed the big ass smirk jaemin was carrying as he looked at you, enjoying your misery. “my panties,” but that wasn’t the only thing you noticed, you could see the pink cloth hanging from his finger.

“give them back,” you pouted cutely, making jaemin smile teasingly. “nope, now they’re mine,” he shoved the piece of clothing inside his pocket and left you to deal with his cum dripping down your legs by yourself.

“but it’s leaking, i can’t go out like this.”

you probably sounded like a whiny child throwing a tantrum, but you really needed your underwear back or else you wouldn’t be able to keep it all in.

“you can and you will, sweetie,” jaemin smirked, taking your hand in his before opening the bathroom door to leave. you didn’t want to leave like that, so you leaned your whole weight back so he wouldn’t be able to pull you with him, but he managed. with a hard tug on your hand, he forced you out of the room and into his back.

just as you were mumbling about how strong he was, a voice made you both freeze in your spots.

“did you guys just leave the teacher’s bathroom? what the heck?” donghyuck gasped, mouth agape in shock. he couldn’t believe what his eyes were seeing; na jaemin and y/l y/n, school’s good boy and bad girl, walking out of the teacher’s bathroom hand in hand. jaemin’s eyes opened wide in panic. someone –or more like the worst person who could have found you– caught you in a very compromising situation. the erratic beating of his heart made his body feel numb, cheeks flushing a deep tone of red.

he noticed jaemin’s messy hair, blushing cheeks and not properly buttoned shirt as well as your untucked one and skirt way too high up your legs that revealed a fair portion of your thighs.

and then it clicked.

donghyuck’s own eyes shot open as he connected the dots.

“oh my fucking god, you fucked in there.”

–lia:)

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