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typical-simplelove · 3 years

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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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kohanayaki · 3 years

Text

.:Time And Time Again:. (Marauders Era x Reader) Ch 1

Old habits die hard— and so do feelings, apparently. Relive moments high and low from your life with the Marauders and co. as you tell your godson, Harry, about all the mischief you got up to back in your school days. Takes place mainly in the Marauders era but also has content congruent with the Order of the Phoenix timeline, with some cannon divergence, of course~

- Main pairings: Sirius Black x Reader, Severus Snape x Reader, James Potter x Reader, Remus Lupin x Reader, slight Regulus Black x Reader, and a bunch of friendships! Gender neutral pronouns :)

LINKS: CH 1 CH 2 CH 3 CH 4 CH 5 CH 6 CH 7 CH 8

____________________________________________________________

Ch 1 .:Memories And First Meetings:.

12 Grimmauld Place was cold.

Not in the temperature sense of the word, especially in the heat of London summer, but something about it felt distant. Perhaps it was the cookie cutter exterior, dreadfully drab, although you knew its true nature was anything but. Despite its grandeur, the interior was as ornate as it was dull and unsaturated, like a black and white photograph in all its monochromatic glory. Maybe it was the fact that you knew what had happened here in the past, or the fact that you knew who was waiting here for you in the present.

You felt the strange sensation of stepping through the thick blanket of protection charms surrounding the house, as if your body were moving through molasses for a fraction of a second. The moment you were fully inside, you began to hear the hushed bits of a conversation echoing through the entrance hall from the dining room whose door was slightly ajar. The words became clearer as you neared the door.

“Harry's not ready! Have you gone completely mad?”

You found yourself grinning at the first voice, Molly Weasley's stern tone unmistakable.

“He's not a child, Molly.”

You froze as you heard the second one; you'd know it anywhere.

A heavy wave of emotion surged through you as you got near enough to the entrance to see the face of Sirius Black through the gap in the door. His time in Azkaban had taken a toll on him, you could tell. Heavy bags hung from his face, his cheeks hollow; although his gray eyes still held that spark in them. His hair was longer, somehow even more wild and unruly than before, but it suited him.

“Well he's not an adult either! He's not James.”

You caught a flash of ginger as Molly crossed the room, using her wand to aggressively clear away the plates on the table as she made her point.

“I know he isn't, but he can handle himself,” Sirius said, “and I'll be there to protect him.”

“How touching, Black. Perhaps the boy will grow up to be a felon just like his godfather.”

Your stomach dropped at the third voice. Shit.

Your presence remained unannounced, but as you peaked your head around the corner of the door frame you were met with Severus' stoic face, an imperceptible crease of distaste in his brow as he regarded Sirius. As your view widened you saw that Lupin sat to his left, a human wall between the two former foes.

You stilled at the door, taking a deep breath in an attempt to settle your irrationally rioting nerves. It's not as if you didn't know they would be there, but it had been so long since you'd seen any of them. So much has changed. . .

“You stay out of this, Snivelus. I don't care what Dumbledore has to say about your supposed reformation, but I know better.”

“Don't you have to go play fetch elsewhere?”

“Oh come on, you two,” Remus sighed.

Well, maybe not much has changed after all.

“Still resorting to playground bickering, are we?”

Several heads snapped in your direction at your words, and you were met with various reactions. Molly's face immediately split into a smile and she rushed around to table to greet you.

“(Y/n), dear! So nice to see you again,” she pulled you into a surprisingly strong hug and you couldn't help but join in her laughter.

“It's good to be back,” you admitted, “Charlie says hello, by the way.”

“Oh, I'm going to give give that boy a talking to,” Molly huffed, “you aren't his owl, dear. The least he could do is write home and say so himself.”

“Romanian mountain ranges keep a wizard busy,” you grinned, “He says he tries to keep in touch.”

“Sending home a bag of petrified dragon scales with a note that says 'look at this!!' is hardly keeping in touch,” she retorted, fussing about with your jacket's collar that had become wrinkled from her embrace.

Even from across the table you could feel Sirius' eyes on you, grateful that you had Molly's whirlwind greeting as a scapegoat for your flushed face.

“(Y/n). . .” he said softly, getting up from his seat.

“Hey,” you smiled, fighting the lump in your throat as he wrapped his arms around you. He was so warm, still wearing that damn leather jacket he'd somehow been reunited with after his imprisonment.

“What are you doing here? They told me you were out working in America,” Sirius said, eyes twinkling as he held you at arm's length.

“Well, I suppose I'm sort of working everywhere these days,” you said. As his words registered in your brain you turned to Molly with narrowed eyes. “You didn't tell him I was coming?”

“I thought it would be a nice surprise,” she said coyly.

You shook your head, turning back to Sirius.

“I'm so sorry, Molly said I could stay here so I thought she already ran it by you—”

“No, no, of course you can stay!” he said enthusiastically, “I'm glad you're here.”

He seemed gentler than he was before, certainly more mellow than in his youth, but that energy that was so quintessentially him remained buzzing beneath his skin, and Merlin, you'd missed it.

After realizing how long the two of you had spent practically holding each other you coughed awkwardly, slowly drifting apart. As you looked around the table your eyes caught Severus' and you thought your heart stopped for a moment. To the untrained eye he probably seemed just as uninterested as ever, but the look of shock in his eyes was so blatantly apparent to you that it threw you off guard. You managed to cast a small smile in his direction, but his expression remained unchanged while yours dropped. You felt your stomach twist up in knots as you thought about what had happened the last time you saw each other.

Lupin looked between the pair of you before getting up from his own seat and coming to your rescue. He extended his arms with a kind smile, and you happily shifted your attention to him.

“It's about time London had its best auror back in town,” he said.

“Flattery will get you nowhere, Moony,” you said playfully, hugging him tight, “It's good to see you too.”

“Are you hungry?” Molly asked, pulling a chair out for you.

“Oh no, I had something on the way here,” you said, taking a seat, “thank you, though.”

It felt surreal to be back here, where it all started. The faces were different—some new, some missing—but the same determined feeling remained.

“Now, where were we,” Sirius said, his confidence returning to his shoulders as he addressed the table.

“We were just talking about how Harry isn't ready to be tangled up in all this,” Molly said sternly.

“I think he should decide that for himself,” Sirius said adamantly.

“Well of course the boy would say he wants to fight, he's—”

“Listening in right now,” you pointed out, jutting your head in the direction of the open door where Harry stood, half obscured by the shadow of the stairway.

The boy flushed, backing away slightly as he was caught. But his eyes lit up as they landed on you, and you felt a tug at your heart as you saw your best friend in their bright green hues.

“(Y/n), you're back,” he said in disbelief.

“And here to stay for a bit, apparently,” you said with a smile.

Molly looked between the two of you before letting out a sigh.

“You know what, we should stop for the night anyways,” she said with a wave of her hand, “We've kept the children up long enough with our chatter, and (Y/n) ought to get some rest as well. Off to bed, the lot of you.”

Some of the other adults exchanged some knowing smiles as she shooed them out of the room. People slowly trickled out through the doorway, goodbyes exchanged, and before long it was just you and your godson left.

You had been lucky enough to meet Harry at the end of his third year, and he'd broken the news about Sirius' innocence to you. You so badly wanted to be there for Harry sooner, but between your strained relationship with the Ministry and cleaning up the mess with MACUSA in the States, you always seemed to be called away from the boy. You wanted nothing more than to take him away from that horrid house—you knew how nasty Petunia could be firsthand. Nonetheless, he seemed to be doing well, and you were happy that you'd grown closer over the last few years even if you couldn't be there in person all the time.

“I've got another little souvenir for you, by the way,” you said, having migrated to the living room.

Harry seemed to perk up at that. Since your visits had been so sparse, you began to make it a tradition to bring him back something magical from whatever part of the world you'd been working in.

“You mentioned you were struggling in Potions the last time we spoke,” you said, rummaging through your bag, eventually producing a small, gold-rimmed vial full of a deep maroon liquid. Small black clouds seemed to tumble in a miniature cyclone inside the glass.

“Dragon's breath essence,” you grinned, “nicked it off of Charlie before I left Romania. Put a few drops of this in your salamander blood the next time you brew a Wiggenweld potion and you're set to pass with flying colors.”

“Brilliant!” Harry said, eyes wide, “that's on our O.W.L.S. this year.”

“I know,” you said cheekily, “you didn't hear it from me. Personally, I think an Outstanding in Potions as a requirement to become an auror is utter rubbish. Don't get me wrong, it's important to know your way around a cauldron, but to hold someone back who excels at Defense Against the Dark Arts and Charms just because they can't cook up a sleeping draught? I don't know, it doesn't sit right with me. And I've heard Severus is hard enough on you guys as it is.”

Harry seemed surprised at your casual address of his professor but shook it off quickly.

“But you're ace at Potions, and it seems like you really like it,” he said.

“Yeah, well I—” you faltered a bit, “I learned from the best. . .”

“Professor Slughorn, you mean?” Harry questioned.

Your eyes widened at that.

“Yeah,” you lied, recovering fast, “Well, Slughorn was a great teacher but terrible at throwing parties. He had this thing called the Slug Club and the dinners were just awful. Your mother was the first of us to join and she ended up roping me into it, and before we knew it we were all standing around in these ridiculous outfits taking swigs of the firewhiskey your dad snuck in just to get through the night.”

You smiled fondly at the memory, and you could see Harry living vicariously through the emotions on your face. You were grateful for this moment; this was the longest you'd actually gotten to sit down and talk together in a long time.

“Were you always friends?” Harry asked, “with my parents, I mean.”

You had to laugh at that question.

“With your mum, yes. Your father, well, not exactly. . .”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 1971 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Your body swayed gently with the movement of the Hogwarts Express as you walked up and down the isles, looking for someplace to sit. Most of the carriages were packed tight with large groups made up of upperclassmen not exactly looking to expand their circle.

As you approached the back of the train a mostly empty car caught your eye, occupied only by two children your age, or at least that's what you guessed from their black ties and basic robes that marked them as unsorted first-years like yourself.

One of them was a brooding looking boy with messy, shoulder length black hair and shockingly pale skin, leaning against the wall of the train and halfway through a book that seemed well beyond his years. Sitting across from him was a pretty red-headed girl who was admiring the rapidly passing scenery through the window.

“Excuse me, do you mind if I sit with you?” you asked, sliding the screen door open.

The boy's brow furrowed, clearly about refuse when the young girl beat him to it.

“Of course not!” she beamed, her smile infectious. You didn't miss the sharp look she shot over to the boy who simply rolled his eyes in response. After you muttered a small 'thanks' she scooted over closer to the window so you could sit next to her.

“My name is Lily,” she said, extending a hand, “Lily Evans.”

“Nice to meet you,” you smiled, “I'm (Y/n) (L/n).”

The boy quirked a brow at your last name, his expression shifting to something unreadable as he blatantly studied you over the spine of his book. After letting this go on for some time, you glanced over at Lily.

“Does he speak?”

“Perfectly well, thank you,” the boy said coldly.

Lily sent a disappointed look his way and his heart fell slightly, but he didn't need to be friends with anyone else, and he certainly didn't want other people becoming friends with Lily either. An irrational thought, he knew, but it was how his stubborn little brain worked at the time. They didn't need anyone but each other. Wasn't that enough?

In any case, he expected his behavior would be enough to scare you off (it usually worked on other people), but to his complete and utter surprise, you began to laugh. It started off as a light giggle, soon growing into full on laughter. He stared at you in open confusion as you were nearly brought to tears from your fit.

“You're funny,” you stated honestly, managing to speak through your chortles.

The boy was taken completely aback by your candor, actually at a loss for words. Lily joined in the laughter at your simple remark.

“So you do talk, I guess you must have a name too, then,” you said teasingly.

He blinked once. Twice.

“. . . Severus Snape.”

“That's a cool name.”

The heat that crept onto the boy's face surprised no one more than himself, and he buried himself in his book quickly to hide it. Another surprisingly frank statement from you, and not one he'd ever heard before.

If he thought you were full of surprises then, he had no idea what was coming to him.

_____________________________________________________________

The minute the Sorting Hat was placed on your head, it was immediately intrigued.

“Now here's an odd one,” it chuckled, “loyal, compassionate, empathetic, and yet a razor wit. A calculating, ambitious mind, and yet a relentless sense of adventure. All this, and with your bloodline to take into account as well. Your family has quite the history here, (L/n).”

Hushed whispers fell across the Great Hall among the older students and even some of the faculty at the hat's words, and you shifted uncomfortably in your seat.

“Though, I sense a different sort of mentality in you,” the hat continued, “you desire to challenge the old ways,” it paused for some time before going on, “do you truly have no preference, child?”

You were surprised at the question. You knew your family's reputation— it had been ingrained in you from a young age— but that didn't sway you, nor did it scare you. When you really thought about what house you wanted to be in, you truly couldn't think of an answer. It wouldn't change who you were, after all. Whether you donned red, yellow, blue, or green, you stood firmly in the knowledge that you would always be (Y/n) (L/n). Having made up your mind, you shook your head at the hat's question, and although its face was obscured from your view, you could almost sense its grin as it knew you were telling the truth.

“Well then,” it chuckled, “It is truly rare that I get an opportunity such as this. Let's make it interesting, then, shall we? Better be. . . Slytherin!”

Snape sat, slack-jawed, as you bounded over to the applauding Slytherin table and plopped down next to him. You rested your chin atop your folded hands, looking largely unbothered, a glint in your (e/c) eyes. He chuckled under his breath despite himself.

Full of surprises indeed.

___________________________________________________________

Your first encounter with James Potter was of a different sort.

It was the very beginning of your third year when you'd first met him properly. You had a few classes together, and Lily would rant about him constantly pestering her; occasionally you'd see the Gryffindor, along with another unfamiliar boy in his house, sprinting through the corridors, Professor McGonagall not far behind and demanding them to stop. But other than that, you'd never really interacted with him.

Ever since you'd met on the train you and Lily started to hang out more and more, with Snape “begrudgingly” tagging along. The Slytherin had been slow to warm up to you, but you were relentlessly kind and infuriatingly persistent, and eventually he found himself enjoying your little quips and comparatively sunny disposition. By the end of your first year, the three of you were nearly inseparable, and your bond only strengthened throughout your second. But third year is when things started changing.

Snape sat in the shade among the thick, overgrown roots of the old oak tree by the Black Lake, nose deep in an advanced Potions textbook he'd swiped from a fifth year as he waited for you and Lily to return from Transfiguration, the only class you didn't have together. This became your usual spot, with Lily sitting in the grass beside him and you on the branch above him, legs swinging as you absentmindedly sketched in your notebook. A comfortable silence would settle between you, something you'd all grown to enjoy; there was no need for constant conversation, it was enough sometimes to just enjoy each others' presence.

The silence he was reveling in alone, however, was promptly interrupted as rowdy laughter reached Snape's ears. Sure enough, a few figures emerged from the curve of the hill, revealing none other than James Potter, flanked by the curly haired boy he'd been seen running around with earlier along with two other Gryffindors: a short-statured boy with dirty blonde hair and another, taller and leaner, with long scars that ran along his face.

Snape didn't pay them much mind until he realized that they were heading straight for the tree— straight for him. Snape had noticed right away how the Potter boy had tried to befriend Lily as soon as she was sorted into Gryffindor, and it was safe to say he was less than fond of him despite having never really spoken to him before.

“You've got to be joking,” James snickered as he walked up to the tree, looking Snape up and down, “This is the guy Evans has been ditching us to see?”

Severus' eyes narrowed. So now he had a reason not to like him.

“Get lost,” he said, turning back to his book.

“What, you think you're too good to talk to us, huh?” James scoffed at him, clearly miffed.

As if on cue, the curly haired boy snatched the book out of Snape's hands, holding it out of his reach as he fumbled to get it back.

“Toss it, Sirius!” James called out. The boy, who he now knew as Sirius, threw the textbook like a frisbee, and Potter caught it easily.

As Snape angrily rose from his seat to get it back, the two boys continued to throw it between themselves so he couldn't grab it. Fed up, the Slytherin drew his wand but was quickly outmatched.

“Expelliarmus!”

Snape's wand flew out of his hands and straight into Sirius', who held it above his head. Just as the black haired boy jumped up for it, another spell flew towards him, this time from James.

“Winguardium Leviosa!”

Snape grit his teeth, staring helplessly at his wand as it hovered higher and higher out of his reach.

“James, come on, I think that's enough,” the taller boy near the back said.

“Don't be a bore, Remus, we're just having some fun.”

“I-I think he's right, guys.”

“Shut up, Peter.”

While his gaze was trained on his wand a harsh shove threw Snape to the ground, tears of frustration welling up in his eyes.

“No way, is he really crying?” James taunted.

“He is,” Sirius goaded on, “just look at him snivel.”

“You're right, maybe we should call him Snivelus, it suits him better.”

“Nice one, James.”

Snape winced as he was harshly pulled to his feet by James who sneered at him.

“Come on then, Snivelous. What are you gonna do?”

“Relashio!”

James' eyes widened as he suddenly felt himself repulsed back by some invisible force, his grip on Snape's robes forced to loosen as he was flung backwards. You stared the shocked Gryffindors down, wand at the ready for another spell as you ran to stand between Severus and them.

“Accio!” another voice called out, Snape's book and wand whizzing past their faces and into Lily's hands.

James staggered to his feet, trying to look unbothered by the fact that he'd just been knocked down, and by a spell that he hadn't even heard of yet.

“Look at that, boys,” he said, feigning confidence, “guess Snivelus needs a couple of girls to come to his rescue. You should ditch this loser, Evans.”

Before Lily could lash back, you stepped between them.

“What's that supposed to mean?” you scoffed.

“I'm sorry, who are you?”

You felt your forehead twitch, itching to smack that smug grin off his face.

It was Sirius who spoke next, recognition filling his gaze.

“Wait, you're the (L/n) kid, aren't you? Well that's just perfect, you two freaks can go study the Unforgivable Curses together.”

That struck a nerve in you.

“You don't know anything,” you said, not lowering your wand, “now get out of here before I knock you down too.”

“Aw, I don't know, Sirius, they're kind of cute all flustered like this,” James smirked.

You felt anger flare up in your chest, and it was Lily's turn to step in for you.

“Leave us alone, James,” she ordered.

When none of them moved you exhaled sharply, taking another step forward.

“Or I can just turn you into a flobberworm instead,” you said, “might be more fitting.”

Sirius laughed off your threat, but you could have sworn you saw a twinge of concern in his eyes as he looked over to the rest of his friends for backup.

“Let's just go, James. Come on,” the one named Remus said, trying to be the voice of reason.

The bespectacled boy frowned, shoving his wand back in his robes.

“Fine,” he said, “they aren't worth it anyways.”

He turned promptly on his heels, Sirius right behind him and Peter scampering after. Remus stayed behind for a moment, regarding you three.

“I'm sorry about them,” he said, “really.”

Your brow creased in suspicion, but you nodded, not quite smiling but offering up a neutral expression at least before he turned to catch up with the rest of his group.

“You were kidding about (L/n) being cute, right?” Sirius said as they headed back to the common room. When he was met with silence instead of a clear 'of course I was' he nearly had a stroke.

“Are you kidding, James?” Sirius said incredulously, “They're a Slytherin! They're just another dark arts dabbler who doesn't care about anything but their blood status.”

James only shrugged.

“Normally I'd agree, but they seem different,” he said. When he turned to see Sirius' unwavering expression he sighed, “I was just saying that to get a rise out of 'em. Don't worry, this won't be the last time we mess with them and Snivelus.”

Meanwhile, you were still out sitting by the tree, brushing the grass out of Severus' hair.

“That was amazing, (Y/n),” Lily said, wide-eyed, “How did you manage to learn that spell? And you already learned the worm-morphing jinx too?”

“Sev isn't the only one who's been learning ahead,” you said, “but that worm thing was a total bluff.”

“I didn't need your help,” Snape muttered.

You blinked down at him, shaking your head and unable to fight the smirk that crept onto your face.

“Sure you didn't,” you huffed, helping him up to his feet despite his protests, “don't be so dramatic, we won't tell anyone if that's what you're so worried about. Now come on, we're gonna be late for dinner. If Wilkes hogs all the Yorkshire puddings I'm blaming you entirely.”

Severus said nothing, only taking his book and wand back from Lily before you three walked back to the castle arm in arm, the smallest hint of a smile playing on his lips.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“It seems like so long ago,” you said, reminiscing, “Although I suppose it was, but I don't want to think about that too hard— I'll start to feel old, Merlin forbid.”

Harry's eyes were full of disbelief at your story.

“So you, my mum, and. . . Snape were friends?”

“Believe it or not,” you grinned, “unlikely trio as we were, it just sort of worked somehow.”

Until it didn't, you thought grimly, but forced the thought aside. You could tell by how quiet Harry had gotten that something was bothering him.

“My dad really did that?” he asked quietly.

Your gaze softened and you turned to fully face him.

“He was dumb and immature at the time,” you said, “we all were. There's not much else to be when you're thirteen. Each of us made plenty of mistakes, too many to count. And your mum. . . she was good for him. He always told me that she made him want to be a better person. People can change. In my opinion, there are few things someone can do that makes them truly irredeemable, and your father never came close to doing any of those things.”

You thought it better to mention that Snape probably didn't feel the same way.

“In any case, we should be getting to bed,” you said, getting up from the couch, “if you ever want to hear any other stories about your parents, I've got plenty of them.”

“Yeah,” Harry said, smile brightening his whole face, “yeah, definitely. Thank you.”

As Harry walked off to his room you sighed, making your way as quietly as you could up the creaky stairs. Just as you were about to retreat into your own guest room, your eyes snagged on the slightly ajar door at the top of the stairwell.

You stalled in front of it for a moment, wondering if you were out of your mind or not. When you had unapologetically settled on 'yes', you moved to knock on the door when it suddenly swung open. You practically leaped back at the proximity as you were met with Sirius standing in the doorway, stormy eyes wide. He'd shed his leather jacket for the night, leaving him in a dark maroon button up with the top few undone. Your senses were draped with the heady scent of his cologne, and you found yourself grasping at words to say.

When Sirius got over his initial shock he laughed sheepishly, running a hand through his curls out of habit.

“I was about to see if you were awake,” he admitted with a small grin, “Seems we both had the same idea.”

Read chapter 2 here !

#harry potter #the marauders #marauders x reader #sirius black x reader #james potter x reader #remus lupin x reader #regulus black x reader #sirius black #james potter #remus lupin #regulus black #harry potter x reader #marauders era #severus snape #snape x reader #severus snape x reader #multi chapter #harry potter fanfiction #marauders fanfiction

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shysneeze · 3 years

Text

Do Me a Favour | Fred Weasley x F!Reader

Description: Fred and the reader’s relationship seen through a series of favours

Warnings: its kind of angsty, brief description of injury (umbridge’s detention related) briefly battle of hogwarts related, miscommunication i guess

Tag-List : new form is here for anyone interested in being added

~* Fifth Year *~

“Do me a favour?”

It’s a question (Y/N) has been practicing internally for at least an hour, yet her voice still wobbles as she asks it aloud. Fred, lying back in the grass, soaking in the late summer sun, peeks open one eye to look up at her with a questioning brow.

“Yeah?”

“K-kiss me?”

A second passes before he reacts, sitting bolt upright in an instant, choking slightly on the gasped breath taken in the process. Regret floods her chest with a mortified ache and she finds herself dropping her eyes to the ground and picking at tufts of grass nervously.

“What?”

“It doesn’t matter,” She mumbles, “It’s stupid.”

“Kiss you?” He repeats, “L-like on the lips?”

“I shouldn’t have asked,” She argues embarrassedly, “I was just- I haven’t- it doesn’t matter.”

He blinks at her, confusion pulling his brows into a frown. Confused is probably the only word he can come up with to explain the whole thing, because quite frankly, it’s not everyday your childhood best friend asks you to kiss them. Then, much to (Y/N)’s further mortification, realisation flickers across his face.

“You’ve never kissed anyone?”

He asks it like he’s surprised, something that only goes to confuse (Y/N) herself. Yet she nods, too obviously embarrassed to even attempt to play it off as some elaborate joke or simply fib her way out of it.

“Really?” Fred asks, “And you want me to be your first kiss?”

“I just want it out the way,” She explains hastily, “Don’t go getting big headed about it… it’s just a favour.”

He’s silent, the most silent she’s ever heard him before even, and it does nothing but add to her growing concern that in one fell swoop, she’s managed to ruin sixteen years of friendship. She’s on the verge of what is bound to be an incoherent string of apologies when he finally answers.

“Okay.”

Her breath catches with something between relief and sheer panic.

“Really?”

“What sort of friend would I be if I denied you such a simple favour?”

‘Simple’ is perhaps an underestimation of what she’s asking, and she can see the nervous way he licks his lips despite the grin he throws on instantly to disguise it. She’s gotten this far though, too far to chicken out now with his warm hand cupping one of her cheeks as he leans closer.

The sun has brought out millions of freckles across his pale cheeks, and for the first time she’s so close she could count them. Part of her, a side of her she’s never met before, thinks about tracing her finger across them, connecting them like constellations. Something in her chest twitches at the thought.

“You ready?”

“Don’t make it sound so clinical,” She mumbles.

“Listen, beggars can’t be choosers.”

She smiles, glad for the familiarity of his teasing. It has some of her nerves dissipating, her lungs expanding with a light, freeing breath before she nods.

He’s tentative for only a moment, their lips meeting in the lightest of kisses until she’s instinctively pulling him closer, fingers curled around a handful of his gryffindor tie. He lets out a surprised sound from deep in his throat, though he doesn’t pull back.

In fact, if he knew kissing his best friend might feel this good, he wouldn’t have asked so many questions before doing so in the first place. At the feeling of her grip slipping from his tie, he feels his heart dropping disappointedly, chasing her lips subconsciously as she pulls back.

He watches her contemplative expression, a good distraction from the racing of his heart in his chest and the unexplainable urge to kiss her again. She gives him a wide-eyed look, eyes darting in every direction as she navigates whatever millions of questions are running around her head.

Then, she clears her throat, nodding as she begins to get to her feet and leaving him dazed on the grass with reddening cheeks.

“Thanks,” She says, “I owe you one.”

~ *Sixth Year* ~

“(Y/N),” Fred exclaims happily, portrait door swinging shut behind him as (Y/N) looks up from her book to meet him with a frown, “Just who I was looking for,”

“That’s never good,” She says, slowly closing her book, “When am I busting you out of detention this time?”

“You wound me,” He retorts before dropping onto the couch beside her with, pressing the back of his hand against his forehead with a dramatic flair, “Me? Detention?”

His head lands haphazardly on her lap and she looks down at him with an amused look, shaking her head in teasing disbelief. His lips twitch into a grin, one that (Y/N) knows is just the beginning of what she doubts will be a simple request.

“Do me a favour?”

For a split second, she freezes, a slight shiver crawling up her back at the question, which little under a year ago saw them kissing by the lake. He holds her eyes in a knowing gaze that causes her to nod cautiously.

“Okay…”

“Come to the ball with me?”

Her brows lift into a surprised expression.

“What?”

“The Yule Ball,” He explains, sitting up now to face her properly, “I need a date.”

She gives him a long, questioning, look, searching for some tell-tale signs of a Fred Weasley joke in the makings. Sceptically, she narrows her eyes.

“Why?”

“You owe me one.”

She bristles imperceptibly, gulping at the knowing look that swims in eyes and twitches the corners of his lips into a small smirk.

“That and I left it all a bit last minute, you see,”

She can’t quite decide whether it’s hurt or relief that tugs at her chest at the revelation, that he’s only asking as a last resort. It’s a much more simple version of the scenario she’s been building in her head since he first asked his question, one with far less feelings to get more attached to.

“What if I’ve already said yes to someone else?”

“Well, I have it on good authority that you’ve been turning people down for weeks now,” He raises a brow, “What’s that about? Holding onto hope of being asked by someone special?”

The teasing tone he’s going for comes out strained in a way (Y/N) has never heard from him before and she frowns for a second at it before rolling her eyes.

“No, I’m not,” She answers, “I just didn’t feel like going with them.”

“So, what you’re saying is that you don’t have a date?” He says, “And neither do I… how convenient.”

She lets out a short scoff, shaking her head in disbelief at the pleading puppy-dog look he’s managed to perfect in just a few seconds. She exhales a loud reluctant sigh that has the corners of his mouth pulling into a smile.

“Is that a yes?”

“Hmm,” She nods, “I guess,”

“How romantic.”

“Ah well, as a wise boy once said, beggars can’t be choosers.” She manages a smirk of her own, “Perhaps next time you’ll find yourself a date sooner than a week before the dance.”

Something in Fred’s face drops for only a split second, and not even their years of friendship helps her read it. It’s only a moment before he’s disguising it again with a lopsided grin and a playful shove.

“Shut up,”

~* Seventh Year *~

Fred’s finger tips are warm as they trace the red-raw words scratched into the back of (Y/N)’s hand, lookin from it up to her eyes with a look she knows means a lecture. She sniffles slightly, twisting away from him to plan her counter argument.

“Before you say anything,” She starts, “Your hand is just as bad so don’t start on my detentions.”

“I wasn’t going... “ He sighs, “Well, I was, but you’re right. I’m just trying to figure out how to get the pink hag back for it.”

“Don’t do anything stupid... I’m fine.”

Fred let’s put a disagreeing grumble.

“Fred,” She says warningly.

“I know,” He breathes out reluctantly, “I just worry when it’s you.”

She turns back to face him, hoping to catch whatever expression has followed such a revelation, but she’s too late, finding him instead twisting away from her to search through his bedside table drawer. He returns with a small jar of healing balm, what she’d come to his dorm for in the first place, or at least that’s what she’s telling herself.

“What happened this time?”

“I missed curfew again,” (Y/N) mumbles, hissing in a breath when the balm touches the open wound, “I was at the library trying to teach myself the bloody defence course since she won’t- ouch.”

“Done,” He assures with a soft smile, “Wuss.”

“It’s not that when you’re the injured one,” She teases, though she’s not feeling quite up to it, “I can’t believe this is how we’re spending our last year.”

“I know.”

She’s not sure what’s causing the tears that have welled in her eyes though, certainly not from the sting of the healing balm or even the general pain from the scar itself. Yet she can’t help the tears that have begun to fall from her lashes and slip down her cheeks.

“Hey-” Fred looks up, brown eyes wide in surprise, “What’s going on?”

“Sorry,” (Y/N) hiccups, wiping her eyes hastily, “I don’t know why i’m crying.”

“Take your time,” Fred says, rubbing soothingly at her back, “It’s okay,”

“It’s all just a bit much isn’t it.” She manages after a moment, “Newts are hard enough but now w-we’ve got this absolute psychopath of a defence teacher who doesn’t actually teach, we’re training to fight deatheaters and- it’s just a bit much.”

“I know what you mean,” He admits solemnly, “It’s pretty messed up.”

“Sorry, it’s stupid.” She shakes her head, “Everyones going through the same thing-”

“Don’t do that.” He frowns, “That doesn’t mean you don’t get to be upset about it, (Y/N).”

“I know but-”

She hears him click his tongue against his teeth disapprovingly, and she can picture him rolling his eyes though she doesn’t have time to see for herself, not with his arm around her shoulder as he curls her into his chest.

She freezes, as if this is something bizarre, as if they’ve not shared hugs a million times growing up. This is protective though, like in his arms, for even just a moment, he’s protecting her from everything wrong in the world.

“Fred?” She sniffles against his chest, “Do me a favour?”

“Anything, (Y/N).”

“Just- just hold me for a bit.”

His breath catches, heat blossoming in his chest as he pulls her closer, running his fingers through her hair in a soothing motion.

“Of course.”

~* Post-Hogwarts*~

“Do me a favour?”

(Y/N), seconds from falling asleep, fit perfectly between Fred and the back of the sofa, peers up at him with bleary eyes and soft smile.

“Of course.” She exhales tiredly.

“Be with me.”

She freezes, replaying it over and over in her head, not entirely sure she’s not dreaming. At her silence, he lets out a sharp noise that sends a jolt of panic into her body, waking her up well and truly. She lets out a choked sound as his arms unravel from her waist and a chill hits her as he begins to pull back.

“What?”

“It’s late-” He begins to backtrack.”I’ve got to open up shop tomorro-”

“What did you just say, Fred?”

He gives her a look that's almost pained.

“Don’t make me say it again.” He pleads, “Let’s just forget about it-”

“You… You like me?”

He lets out a sound close to a pained laugh that lodges itself in his throat as he twists awkwardly away from her. A deep crimson colour has begun to creep up his neck and he pulls nervously at his shirt collar in a meek attempt to combat it.

“I’ve not been very subtle, (Y/N).”

“Clearly you have!” (Y/N) bursts, only shrinking with the realisation that, just down the hall, George is sleeping in his room. “Since when?”

“Since you kissed me,” He exclaims exasperatedly, “Favour bloody one.”

She stands, suddenly hit by the need to pace, to move around as she deals with all the questions that race through her head. Gulping, Fred watches her move, suddenly afraid that he’s made this favour their last.

Then, she comes to a stop.

“You’re an idiot.”

“Excuse me?”

“An idiot,” (Y/N) repeats, “You made me feel like the last resort for the yule ball, but you’re telling me that was serious?”

“Hey,” He frowns, “It was serious right until you started giving me this look like I was insane and I had to cover my arse somehow-”

“Shut up,”

She drops herself onto his lap, cupping his cheeks in her hands and holding his face there, inches from her own. He watches, frozen in awe, as her eyes dance across his face. She’s tracing his freckles again, close enough to be mesmerised all over again.

“Since we’re pretty terrible with signals,” She exhales, “When I kiss you now… it’s not just a favour.”

“Thank Merlin for that.”

~* The Battle of Hogwarts*~

Hogwarts has never felt so different.

Standing here now, it’s hard for (Y/N) to imagine these are the same hallways they once walked down, that she and Fred used to sneak through in the dark for midnight snacks and linger outside of before teachers arrived.

Tucked into an alcove of the corridor, Fred and (Y/N) watch the havoc unfolding, keenly aware of what lies ahead, the war that’s been looming over them all year. He holds her hand in his own, squeezing it as reassuringly as he can manage as she chews nervously on her bottom lip.

“It’s going to be okay, right?”

“Of course, Love,” He smiles, lifting a hand to gently caress her cheek, “We’ll be fine.”

She nods, melting into his warm touch. But nothing eases the weight that has settled on her chest, the anxious feeling that is telling her everything is about to go wrong. She searches his eyes for something familiar to cling onto.

“I don’t like us not sticking together,” Fred admits quietly, “We should be where we can keep an eye on each other.”

“I promised Madam Pomfrey I’d help with the injured,” (Y/N) admits sadly, “And you should be with George.”

“I know,” He breathes, “I just don’t like it,”

She smiles sadly in agreement.

“Me either,” She admits, “but I’ll be fine… I’ve always had better defence marks than you anyway,”

Much to (Y/N)’s relief, Fred laughs, bringing back a sense of normality, even if just for a moment. The hand on her cheeks pinches her playfully and his brown eyes roll with a teasing glint to them.

“Look at you, joking in a crisis,” He teases, “I’m so proud,”

“I’ve known you long enough to have picked up some sort of ill-timed sense of humour,”

He lets out a short chuckle, shaking his head in disbelief.

“I love you, (Y/N),”

“I love you too,”

He leans in to capture her lips in a gentle kiss, a practiced art that has a well-known warmth flooding (Y/N)’s chest. Yet, as he pulls back, he leaves something bitter sweet behind, the ache of a goodbye kiss.

“I should go,” He admits, “Before we end up caught up in the crowds, right?”

“Yeah,”

“I’ll see you once it’s all over,” He grins, “When we’ve won,”

It takes a moment for (Y/N) to convince herself to let go of his hand and feels suddenly cold once it’s gone. He’s turning away with one last wave when she calls him back, heart hammering in her chest.

“Do me a favour?”

He pauses before breaking into a small smile.

“Always, Love.”

“Don’t die.”

“I promise.”

#fred weasley x reader #fred weasley imagine #fred weasley imagines #fred x reader #fred imagine #fred imagines #fred x you #fred weasley x you #reader insert #fred weasley angst #fred weasley fluff #fred and george #fred weasley

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lifeofkaze · 3 years

Note

Hi love!

Sorry for bothering you, but could you do something like really cute and fluffy between Charlie Weasley and reader where he's all shy and delicate maybe teaching her about dragons and their characteristics pls? Like, something that feels really intimate, you know?

I absolutely love your writing and I believe that you could make justice to the character.

Take care darling,

-A

Thank you for the request, loveliest anon! This is actually the first fic request I’ve ever gotten and I’m so happy you like my stuff so much, this makes me very very soft.

This fluff piece was just what I needed to get my mojo back hopefully. Please let me know if this is like what you had in mind - I for one had a lot of fun with it! <3

***

Favourites

Charlie Weasley x Reader

Word Count: ~ 2.800

As a Care of Magical Creatures test covering dragons of all things is imminent and you were too distracted in class to pay proper attention, you know just who to turn to for help.

“You want me to do what?”

Charlie Weasley blinked at you in confusion. He could feel his blood rushing in his ears as he looked at you standing in front of him, clutching you Care for Magical Creatures book to your chest as you raised your eyebrows at him.

“I asked if you could help me studying for the test next week?” you repeated your question, brow slightly furrowed. “I can’t keep track of all these dragon traits and who would know them better than you?”

Charlie felt the heat creeping up on his face. Of course, the test. It was all he had been able to think about ever since Professor Kettleburn had announced the topic; all except you of course.

He tried to formulate a coherent answer that wouldn’t make him look like a blabbering fool in front of you, but the way the dappled sunlight that broke through the trees reflected in your hair distracted him more than he cared to admit.

So he resorted to a weak nod. “Uhm, sure, I’d love to. See you at six in the library?” he managed to stammer out eventually.

A beautiful smile formed on your face as you nodded in enthusiasm. “Sounds great, see you there!”

Charlie watched as you swished around and walked back to your friends, who greeted you with giggles and whispers as they glanced in his direction. You gave one of them a playful swat on the arm, before your clear laugh carried over to him onto the warm summer air and made his heart clench.

He knew all of his dragons by heart, of course he did; this test was the first he hadn’t bothered studying for at all. But now, he suddenly felt the overwhelming urge to prepare himself.

The light of the sun had already started to turn into the beautiful golden shade that heralded the end of a warm autumn day as you skittered into the library. You were a little bit late for your study session with Charlie, and the exertion from running all the way from your Common Room flushed your cheeks slightly red. Your friends just hadn’t let you go, all of them just as excited for what they called ‘your dragon date’ as you were. Not that you’d ever tell them that.

You found Charlie sitting at a table near the windows and your breath caught for a moment as you took in the warm light that washed around his frame; it was making his ginger hair glow like fire, the only vibrant speck of colour in this dusty old room full of books.

He had his nose buried in a big, leather-bound tome, his eyes darting over the pages frantically; you noticed how the tip of his tongue stuck out between his lips in concentration. He was so immersed in his reading, that he only noticed you approaching as you sat down next to him. Jumping in shock at your sudden appearance, he almost knocked over his ink bottle, only catching it at the last second before its dark, inky content could wash over the thin pages of his book.

“Oh, you’re here already, I didn’t even notice you until now.” His freckled face had flushed a shade darker than usual as he put his ink bottle back into its position and made room for you on the table.

“I’d rather say I’m here finally,” you responded, feeling a little bit guilty at making Charlie wait. “But I see that you started without me.”

He hurriedly closed the book. “No, I was just reading up on some facts about Welsh Greens so I have them sharp in my mind,” he explained, “in case you have questions, you know?”

It was only now that your eyes took in the numerous heaps of books piled up on your table. “First question,” you said as you ran your fingers over the backs of the tomes stacked on top of each other. “I thought the test was about dragons native to Europe and not every single one in existence,” you pulled out a particularly old looking book containing myths and fables, “and beyond.”

You silently counted the numbers of books Charlie had amassed and your eyes went wide. “Charlie, these must be all the books about dragons in the whole library,” you laughed, giggling at the flustered expression of the boy beside you.

“Well, not all the books,” he clarified sheepishly. “There are quite a few in the Restricted Section and then there’s the two I have up in my dorm but forgot to bring and- “

You cut off his rambling by gently touching his arm; he shut up almost instantly, glancing nervously down to where your hand was lying. “It’s alright, it was just a joke.”

“Of course,” Charlie muttered slightly embarrassed. What was wrong with him?

He watched as you pulled your notes from your bag; they were rather sparse compared to the almost three scrolls of parchment he had scribbled down himself.

“Where do you want to start?”

You hummed to yourself as you considered your choices. A warm, fuzzy feeling spread inside Charlie’s chest as you drew your lips into a pensive pout and tapped your index finger against it.

Finally, a neat stack of white flashcards, that lay hidden behind a book on Sea Serpents, caught your attention. You reached over Charlie and pulled them towards you.

Your mouth dropped open as you flicked through them; on every one of the laminated cards was an extensive profile of every kind of dragon imaginable. The descriptions were written out in a neat, accurate hand that looked nothing like the careless scrawl you’d seen on Charlie’s class notes.

But what took your breath away were the detailed drawings below the text. They were done by pencil and although they didn’t move like magical pictures often did, they were so lively as if they only waited to pounce off the paper and take into the air.

Charlie watched you apprehensively as your fingers traced the outline of what appeared to be a Swedish Short-snout. He felt his heart beat faster at the soft, admiring look in your eyes as you turned towards him.

“Did you do these yourself?”

He nodded in response. “It’s hard to find decent descriptions all in one place,” he explained quietly. “I don’t know how accurate the sketches are though; I’ve never seen a dragon in real life.”

You flashed him a radiant smile that had his heart rate pick up considerably. “I don’t care if they’re realistic; they’re brilliant!”

Encouraged by your excitement, he took the flashcards out of your hands and fanned them out, their blank backs facing you. “Then I’d suggest we start with them; pick one!”

Running the fingers along the cards twice, you finally settled on one and drew it out of his grasp. Charlie’s freckled face lit up as he saw which one you had chosen.

“The Ukrainian Ironbelly,” he exclaimed, “my favourite!”

All of his former shyness was suddenly forgotten; this was his prime discipline.

“The Ironbelly is native to the Ukraine, as its name suggests, obviously. It’s considered the largest dragon species in existence with an immense wingspan, long talons and scales that are said to be harder to pierce than steel. It’s name stems from the metallic grey colour of his underside and ever since one particular large specimen carried off a whole sailing ship in the late 18th century, they are under strict observation by wizarding authorities.”

You did your best to jot down the information Charlie dumped on you with impressive speed but there was no way you could keep up with his excited ramblings. So you resorted to listening to him as he lectured you about feeding habits, hunting methods and the average temperature of the flames an Ironbelly could produce.

He sighed wistfully as he paused for breath. “They’re amazing.”

You couldn’t hide your smile at his dreamy expression as you picked out your next card from the stack. “Okay, how about this one?”

The dragon it showed had ridges running along its back, ending in a nasty, arrow-shaped spike at the tip of its tail. It barred its teeth at you in a vicious snarl.

“That’s my favourite, the Hebridean Black,” he repeated his words from before, positively bouncing with energy this time around.

You glanced at the card you two had just worked your way through. “I thought the Ukrainian Ironbelly was your favourite?” you teased him.

Charlie’s bouncing stopped instantly as he blushed bright red; you hadn’t meant to bring him down and felt sorry all of a sudden. So you propped the card against one of the book piles and turned to him.

“So, tell me more about it.”

Relieved to be able to tread on secure ground again, Charlie immediately recounted all the facts about one of the two dragon breeds native to the British Isles to you.

You continued in this fashion; your pulled a random card from the stash and Charlie would tell you everything he knew about it. He grew more animated with every new flashcard; as it turned out, every dragon you talked about was his favourite.

Seeing him so caught up in his favourite subject had a warmth spread in your chest and the smile on your lips never vanished even once. You had given up on writing Charlie’s words down about four cards ago and were merely staring at him explaining to you everything about these fantastic beasts that made up all of his dreams and musings.

His excitement quickly spread to you and you found yourself hanging onto his every word. But the more you were listening to him, the more you found your concentration shift from the dragons you were discussing to the boy beside you.

Your head propped on your hand, you admired how recounting scale colours and preferred environments of Romanian Longhorns brought a twinkle to his blue eyes and how his contagious laugh had you chuckle at the idea that people would confuse a Hungarian Horntail with a Norwegian Ridgeback.

The dimples forming in his freckled cheeks as he smiled at you were the exact reason why you had needed help with studying for this test in the first place. When you had talked about dragons in class, the eager smile and the slight scrunch of his nose as he scribbled down every single word Professor Kettleburn had to spare had left you breathless and unable to concentrate on anything but the butterflies dancing in your stomach.

The pile of flash cards had dwindled down until only a few more were left. Your breath caught in your throat as you turned around your next pick; the pictured showed a slender dragon directly from the front. It’s wings were outstretched and it seemed to be staring directly at you out of wide, pupil-less eyes. It was the only drawing so far that was coloured.

Your finger traced the subtle colour gradient rippling over its pearly scales as Charlie looked over to see which one was next.

“The Antipodean Opaleye,” he murmured, taking in your fascinated expression, “it’s singularly coloured scales and eyes are the stuff of legends.”

“It’s beautiful,” you whispered, trying to imagine how the scales of a real life Opaleye might shimmer in the sunlight.

“Not as beautiful as you,” Charlie suddenly blurted out. The words had fallen from his lips before he’d even had a chance to stop them.

Both of you froze as what he had said sank into your consciousness. You couldn’t believe your ears and were half sure that your mind must have played a trick on you.

You carefully glanced over to Charlie out of the side of your eyes; he looked incredulous and you could watch the colour of his face turning from ghostly white to a deep, vivid scarlet that clashed with his ginger hair in a matter of seconds.

Feeling your own cheeks starting to blush at the unexpected compliment, you desperately were looking for something to say to take the shock out of his widened eyes. But your mind wasn’t working properly anymore, so all you managed was a meek “Wow, uhm, thank you Charlie, that’s really sweet.”

It was apparent your words didn’t help his flustered situation as he covered his face with his hands and groaned “I can’t believe I said that out loud; I’m such an idiot.”

You didn’t know what to do to help him; you felt utterly flattered and confused at the same time. You thought about putting your hand on his arm to reassure him what he had said actually made you happy, but paused halfway, not quite daring to touch him again.

Still unsure of what to do, you got up and picked up one of the books he had used to illustrate the facts on his flashcards.

“I’d better get going, I guess,” you stammered without looking at the wretched boy sitting at the table next to you, “thank you so much for helping me, I think I’ll manage the rest on my own. Can I borrow that book though?”

He didn’t raise his face from his hands, but nodded anyways. You felt bad for leaving him like that, but your head was spinning and you desperately needed to sort out your thoughts.

But seeing Charlie’s slumped frame sitting at the table, all the bubbly excitement from before completely drained from him, tugged at your heartstrings so hard it almost hurt. So instead of turning around and leaving, you drew a deep breath, gathered your courage and stepped behind him, placing a light kiss on his cheek.

You could feel his shoulders tense and his breath hitch as your hair tickled his jaw and were glad he couldn’t see the deep blush on your cheeks as you straightened up, picked up your bag and his book and hurried out of the library with a racing heart, too afraid to turn around once more.

Charlie and you hadn’t spoken again after what had happened in the library. It had taken him quite some time to be able to think properly again after you had left; he had just sat at his table, hand on his cheek where you had kissed him, staring into nothingness, the peachy smell of your hair still hanging in the air.

Even though the thought of how soft your lips had felt on your cheek had been the most prominent thing in his mind, he had passed his test with flying colours; some things just couldn’t be erased from his mind, no matter what was happening around him.

He had just returned to his dorm after a particularly tiring Quidditch practise when he saw it lying on his bed, propped up against his head bord; the book you had borrowed from him to finish studying on your own.

For a brief moment, he wondered how you had managed to get it up here, when he noticed something white sticking out of the pages. Curious, he picked up the book and flicked it open.

Even without looking, he knew what chapter it was you had marked with whatever you had put in there; he had read this book more times than he could remember. It was the chapter on the Antipodean Opaleye; he grimaced at the memory of when he had last thought about this particular dragon.

A white flashcard was stuck between the pages, its laminated surface flashing as Charlie turned it around to read it.

A big smile stole onto his face as he saw the photograph of you laughing and waving at him that you had stuck on the front side. His eyes swept over the lines written in your feminine hand and his smile grew even wider as he read the ‘special characteristics’ section:

It has to be remarked, that this particular specimen was able to pass her test with full marks.

He was glad to hear his blurted out compliment hadn’t affected your marks in the end. He sighed wistfully, when he noticed the very small, scribbled note at the very end of the card; it wasn’t as neatly written as the rest, almost as if your hands had shaken while writing it down.

Greatest weakness: While not many weaknesses are recorded of this specimen, it is said that it can be easily tamed by ginger-haired dragon trainers in the making. Whether these rumours are true, remains to be determined.

Charlie’s mouth dropped open as he read the last section over and over again, not daring to believe what he thought they said. But after the tenth time, he finally allowed the butterflies that had been fluttering in his stomach to spread into the rest of his body, his smile growing into the widest grin as he tucked the flashcard carefully into the book again.

This time, he was sure; this one was his favourite.

Tagging: @weasleysandwheezes

#harry potter #hphm #hogwarts mystery #charlie weasley #charlie weasley x reader #L writes #by request

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perpetualoverthinker · 3 years

Text

Books and Bagels — Pope Heyward

not my gif!

Summary: It was only fitting that Pope Heyward would fall for the girl at the library.

Warnings: none—pure fluff

WC: 1k

A/N: This is my first time writing for Pope, so I hope I did him justice! Also! this is for @pogueslandia's 1.5k celebration/writing challenge (congrats again!!). Had a ton of fun doing this !

prompts: “I have the feeling that you’re trying not to kiss me and I give you permission to just do it.” and "B gets so nervous about their dinner date with A that they accidentally make enough food to feed ten people"

You had just started volunteering at the Kildare County Public Library for the summer when you first saw Pope. He had walked through the front doors with a stack of books in his hands as you were shelving near the entrance.

The librarians working the front desk greeted him warmly, recognition washing over their faces. You watched as he chatted with the women, leaning on the counter and flashing a charming smile. Cute, you thought to yourself.

They soon pointed over to the history section, where you were currently shelving, and you quickly busied yourself with the books on your cart, hoping they hadn’t caught you staring.

You heard him walk up to the stack, your cart positioned between you two. You each took turns stealing glances at each other, Pope’s easy charm he had shown before now replaced with an endearing shyness. You could feel a smile tug at your lips as you noted the shift in his demeanor.

“Hey,” he turned to look at you, book mid-shelve, “I think that’s the book I’m looking for.” Pope pointed at the book in your hand.

“Oh.” You held the book in front of you, reading the title, Lost Treasures. “You going treasure hunting or something?” you joked, handing the book over to him.

“Uh, yeah actually,” he chuckled as you tilted your head, your smile still present despite the confusion on your face. “It’s a long story.”

You turned your attention back to your books, nodding skeptically. “Well, I’d love to hear it sometime.”

“Oh, uh y-yeah, sure…” You grinned, amused by the boy’s flustering.

“I’m y/n, by the way,” you said, continuing to place books on the shelf in front of you.

“Pope.” He pointed to himself, albeit a little awkwardly. It only made you like him more.

“I’m here Wednesdays and Fridays, y’know. If you ever wanna tell me that story of yours…” you said while pushing your cart out of the stack. You glanced back at him one more time before walking off, biting your lip and smiling to yourself.

It was safe to say that Pope would be there again.

---------

The following weeks, Pope came into the library every Wednesday and Friday. He would pretend to browse the shelves or do research, when, in actuality, he would just follow you around as you shelved your books (sometimes even helping you). You would laugh at his jokes and he would find little ways to impress you—his mind filled with an abundance of different facts and anecdotes.

One of these days, you were in the classic literature section, Pope handing you each book as you found its rightful place on the shelf. The two of you were talking about your favorite classics as you worked.

“I’m just saying, his books are mind-numbingly boring,” you said, taking a book from Pope’s hand.

“What are you talking about? Hemingway wrote some great books!”

“Literally nothing happens in them. Old Man and the Sea? Just about a guy catching a fish.”

“It’s not just about that. It’s about perseverance and the nature of life.”

“Yeah, yeah. He was kind of a dick, though.”

Pope laughed and clicked his tongue. “Yeah, can’t argue with that,” he conceded, shaking his head.

You held your hand out for the next book, but Pope was no longer handing them to you. Turning your head towards him, he was looking at you, nervously fidgeting with his hand.

“Everything good, Pope?”

“Uh, yeah.” He paused. “Can I ask you something?”

You could feel your heartbeat quicken, hopeful for what he might say next. You had been waiting for him to ask you out for a week, almost resorting to just asking him yourself. You steadied your breath, answering as nonchalantly as you could. “Sure.”

“I was wondering if you wanted to-”

“Yes,” you blurted, probably definitely a little too quickly. “Shit, wait,” you clapped your hand over your mouth, “I’ll let you finish first.” You nodded for him to continue, trying to contain your giddiness.

Pope smiled widely. “y/n, would you like to have dinner with me?”

“I’d love to.”

---------

Pope had told you to meet him at the beach. Your body was abuzz, thrumming at the thought of what he had planned for the night. You stumbled your way down the hill that met the sandy beach and spotted him next to a blanket, covered with food. It was enough to feed ten people.

“Wow, Pope,” you said as you walked up to him. “You really went all out, huh?” You surveyed the blanket, spotting an array of cheese and crackers, pasta, and fruit. You noticed a particular spread, causing you to look at the boy, head tilted and eyebrows raised. “Bagels?”

Pope laughed sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck. “I wasn’t quite sure what you liked…”

You moved forward to sit cross-legged on the blanket, smiling up at the boy reassuringly. “It’s perfect.”

You and Pope sat there for hours, talking about whatever the two of you felt like and feasting on the absurd amount of food. You were laughing hysterically while taking a bite out of your bagel, smearing cream cheese on the side of your mouth.

As you tried to catch your breath, Pope reached out and wiped the smear away with his thumb, causing your breath to hitch. You both looked at each other, tension crackling through the air.

“I have the feeling that you’re trying not to kiss me and I give you permission to just do it.”

His eyes widened. “Oh, o-okay. Mhm, yup, yeah I’ll just-”

“Pope.”

“Right.” His lips met yours, his shoulders softening as you brought your hands to rest on his face. Pope braced his hands on either side of you, leaning forward and accidentally tipping your cup of water. Ignoring it, he mumbled a quick ‘whoops’ into your lips, causing the two of you to laugh in between kisses.

#liane’s 1.5k writing challenge #pope heyward #pope x you #pope x reader #outer banks fic #outer banks #outer banks imagine #obx fanfiction #obx imagine

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thefanficmonster · 3 years

Text

Just Another One

Sequel to: ‘A Little Bit Of Honesty’

Corpse Husband x Actress!Reader (Female)

Warnings: Angst, Heartbreak, Mention of bad past relationships, Swearing

Genre: Angst, Romance, RPF (Real Person Fic)

Summary: They keep proving each other right in the most wrong ways possible. They each want to be guarded even if that means the other will be hurt. Maybe that’s what they want - to hurt one another because they’ve already hurt each other once before.

Requested by the lovely readers who enjoyed the previous fic ‘A Little Bit Of Honesty’. Sorry for the large time gap between the posting of the two fics but I still hope you guys will take the time to read it and if so I hope you enjoy it! Love you all with all my heart, Vy ❤

When you go out of your way to avoid leaving the house your options of entertainment are severely limited and you can’t blame anyone or anything but yourself for it. Today, I wouldn’t have gone out of my apartment even if I was one of those people who frequent the outdoors seeing as how the sky is trying to flood the Earth with all this nonstop rain. It does set a mood for a perfect night in but when you spend all your nights in doing the same thing over and over again, the atmosphere is practically meaningless. And so I ‘ve decided to resort to channel surfing as though I’ll find something interesting on TV that I haven’t yet seen on one of my social media timelines.

I pass several cooking channels on my journey, making a mental note of their individual numbers in case I don’t stumble across anything capable of better distracting me from my boredom and loneliness that’s slowly starting to creep in. I pass by a few movie channels showing teenage romcoms as if to celebrate the start of summer so you can imagine how quickly I moved on from those. Then come the celebrity channels which can often get a laugh out of me because of how pathetic and unbelievably ridiculous they are. And so, I stick around one where there’s a broadcast on a movie showing that’s happening tonight in LA. Oddly enough, despite my anxiety, going to a movie showing has always been on my list of things I’d want to do. This can be considered living vicariously or rubbing salt into the wound that I’ll probably never go because my anxiety and fear of being recognized is too severe. Either way I stick around to watch it.

And man do I regret it now looking at several different angels of a couple of actors entering the venue where they are to be photographed and asked questions by the mob of paparazzi that’s gathered due to the massive event. That in and of itself doesn’t sound - and really isn’t - so bad. However, it’s important to note that the actress in this duo is Y/N. Y/N L/N. My Y/N....shit, sorry, I mean my FRIEND Y/N, her arm linked with whatever-the-fuck-his-name-is who is holding an umbrella above the both of them, shielding them from the downpour of rain that is also taking place in LA apparently.

“The two were seen entering the venue earlier this evening, looking particularly cozy in each other’s presence if I do say so myself. The rain probably worked nicely in their favor.“ The first reporter says, her teasing tone of voice sending chills of anger down my spine as I glare at the screen, hands balled in fists, jaw clenched - all my body’s instinctive reactions to what is being shown to me. I know I technically have no right to behave or feel this way, in fact I should be fucking happy for Y/N and her successful career and the progress in her love life. But damn it how can I?! I was so damn close to kissing this girl! I was so fucking close to falling in another trap, tripping and landing in the embrace of another liar and user, another girl who switches partners more often than shoes. How could I’ve been so reckless to get so close to her even platonically? How did we become close enough for me to 1) show her my face; 2) start inviting her over to my apartment regularly; and how didn’t I notice the kind of messed up person she was all that time.

She was all sweet and flirting and shit a week or so ago and now she’s doing the exact same thing with him! The cameras are capturing them perfectly: every laugh, every exchange of a knowing look or nod, ever smack to his arm when he tells a joke. But what bothers me most is the many times he’s wrapped his arm around her to pull her closer. Not just for pictures, but just because the fucker felt like it! And Y/N doesn’t seem to mind it at all.

“They have been the talk of the town recently, so while they could just be adding fuel to the fire, they could also have been caught by the flame and ‘caught feelings’ as they say. Regardless these two are a view we’d like to see more often.“ The other reporter says and that’s the final straw.

In one swift motion I turn the TV off and throw the remote across the room. It hits the wall and falls to the ground in several pieces, broken by the force of the impact. Just like I am broken by the force of the impact of these news. I don’t know which is worse: the fact that I fell for her and almost let her know it; the fact that she’s just another member of the club I don’t want anywhere near my life; or the fact that I can’t believe it.

Yeah that’s right - one foolish part of me refuses to believe that’s she’d do such a thing. I think that’s the same part which is still in awe of her so you can bet I ignore that part the majority of the time.

She is just another one. Not the one. Having been hurt before doesn’t mean she won’t hurt me or anyone else she’s gonna be with. Hurt people hurt people.

And damn has she hurt me, probably without knowing a damn thing. How selfish can you be, Y/N? How selfish can you really get? And how much am I going to allow you to hurt me?

* * *

“Thank you so much, Andrew. I would’ve died on the spot of anxiety if I was on my own.“ I say to my best friend who is currently sitting next to me on a park bench, in a tux, eating a cheeseburger. I too am still in my gown and am also gorging on a cheeseburger of my own.

“Don’t mention it. Us anxious people need to stick together.“ He bumps his shoulder against mine, stealing a small genuine smile from me, “Plus I couldn’t not come with you. You know how much I like a good rumor.“

I scoff, “Of course you do, but then again there was no need to add to what the media has already made a whole-ass ship out of.” I roll my eyes and take another bite. My appetite hasn’t been in its best condition so I’m only eating this under Andrew’s orders. I have no idea how people can ship us romantically, he’s the definition of an older - and very bossy - brother to me. I wish I could tell each and every single one of those girls who hate me because I’ve ‘stolen their man’ that I’d most likely be their sister in law rather than man snatcher, seeing as how my relationship with Andrew is so sibling-like.

That’s because we’re too alike, no one gets that. People play the ‘opposites attract’ car more often than I consider rational. But then again when they see a couple like Andrew and I - who are basically the same person in different bodies - they suddenly think we’re super compatible. Trust me, we’re not. And everyone who’s been on set with us will tell you the same.

“What can I say...“ he shrugs, smirking at me, “I like the fun. I bet Becca doesn’t though.“

I can’t help but huff. Andrew is the only one I’ve ever openly expressed my frustrations with Rebecca to. He was super helpful on the subject, seeing as how he can relate - many partners of his have tried to use him, some of which even succeeded. He’s more than qualified to school me on the topic but it turned more into sharing bad experiences. One of which was that instance back at Corpse’s apartment.

“And neither does Corpse I suppose.“ As though he’s read my mind, he pokes the hurt spot, pouring salt in the wound causing me to visibly cringe as though the pain was physical - because it was, I felt it in my chest and in my gut, a sharp stab of guilt and regret.

Why did I let it come to that? Why did I let us get so close? How did I not think of the consequences?

“I don’t care if he does or doesn’t.“ My hand automatically reaches for the pocket of the jeans I’m not even wearing in search of a cigarette. Not that I’d be able to light one even if I had them on me - Andrew would smack it out of my hand before I could even take a single puff.

He has the audacity to laugh, “You’re such a bad liar, Y/N.”

That’s all he needs to say really - that’s enough to make me feel seen and understood. Though that’s not always a good thing. I often times wish he couldn’t read me so well. Better said: I wish I didn’t let myself be so readable, you know. I’m just glad he’s the one who sees me because if it were anyone else they’d use this vulnerability of mine against me. I’m well aware that it’s a weakness, a really inconvenient one, but damn it I can’t get rid of it. I feel like I’ll be less human if I lose it. Everyone’s allowed to be vulnerable, some just are lucky enough to choose who they’ll be vulnerable around. I’m lucky enough to to have a choice, not so lucky in the people I choose to trust. Guess that’s not a luck thing, it’s just my inability to decipher whether a person is worth all the pain and torture of coming clean to them or not. So far many people have burnt me but two stick out in particular - Becca and Corpse. Corpse especially, which is the odd thing considering he hasn’t even wronged me in any way. At least not yet.

“Your phone’s vibrating.“ Andrew says, pulling me out of my overflowing head when he hands me my phone which I handed to him because of my dress’ lack of pockets.

“Thanks.“ I mutter through a sigh as I take it from him, checking the notification I’ve gotten.

My stomach drops: it’s a message from Corpse.

“Hey I saw you are in LA but we have a stream tomorrow, will you still be participating?“

Before I can reply, he sends me another message.

“I know you’re probably very busy but we get the most viewership on the streams when you’re in them so....“

I’ve probably been staring at my phone screen for longer than I thought since Andrew felt the need to make sure I was still breathing: “Hey, you ok? You look terribly pale.” I can barely hear him let alone reply. I can’t hear my own thoughts to know what to reply to him. “Y/N, you’re scaring me.”

I’m scaring myself too, Andrew. I’m scared too. I’m scared of how broken my picker has become. I almost kissed this guy! I almost entrusted all my thoughts, hopes, wishes and goals to him! What the fuck was I thinking?! Well, at least I know what he was thinking about - viewership. Likes, subs, views, publicity. The more eyes on the stream the better for him and everyone else. I genuinely want to applaud him, no one has been so direct about using me before. I was in a relationship with Becca for almost a year before I accidentally found out what she had been doing the whole time. No one’s ever smacked me in the face with this much honesty. It’s bittersweet really.

I want to laugh, I want to cry, slap myself across the face, slap him...I want to do so much, but all I can do now is sit in silence and think of how I could be so stupid.

He’s just another one, how did I not see that? How do I never see it until it’s too late? Why is one part of me still screaming: ‘He didn’t mean it like that!’

AND WHY THE FUCK DO I WANT TO BELIEVE IT?

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plumso · 3 years

Text

sweet escape

pairing: Draco Malfoy x Fem!reader

summary: Y/N, unhappy in her current relationship, seeks solace and silence to be alone with her thoughts. Thus, the Room of Requirement appears in her time of need. She has made it her escape from people and her problems, but she then quickly realizes that she is not the only one in the room.

warnings: angst, breakup, arguments

A/N: Hello! This is my first Draco fanfic, and I hope you like it! I have never been a major Draco fan, so it was a bit of a struggle to portray his image and character. I hope I did his complex personality justice!

I do not give permission for my work to be reposted!

music suggestion: Matter to You by Sasha Sloan

I do not own the image

Surrounded by her warm and bustling group of friends, which have stuck together since the beginning of their first year at Hogwarts, Y/N sighed lamentably, her energy not matching that of her friends. They were all roaring in the excitement in the Great Hall; after all, it was the first breakfast of their sixth year, and though times were dark in the wizarding world, they were hopeful that they can make this year the best one yet. However, troubled by her worries and lost in her thoughts, she paid no mind to their conversation. Though she thought that she kept her sentiments hidden, they all noticed this.

“Y/N, are you okay? You’ve been down since we were on the train,” said Ginny worriedly.

Y/N snapped out of her thoughts and shook her head fervently. “I’m perfectly fine! It’s just… the weather is really affecting me today,” replied Y/N nervously.

Her group of friends shared a look, wondering how the day's clear, blue sky could dampen her mood. They could sense that something was wrong; in fact, they noticed her change in behavior since the end of their fifth year.

Y/N was an astonishingly kind person; she would comfort any student who approached her with their struggles, for she secreted this mysterious, soothing aura. It came as no surprise that everyone came to love and adore her sweet, honey-like demeanor. However, her friends, including her boyfriend Dean, noticed how she has never come to them with her troubles. And so, they waited till she felt comfortable in opening herself up.

Dean, who sat next to her, wrapped one of his arms around her shoulder. “You know, you can always talk to me about your problems, right?” He said quietly into her ears.

Y/N sheepishly smiled while gently rubbing his arm. “I’m fine!” exclaimed Y/N as she gives a reassuring look to all her friends. “Seriously, don’t worry about me. There’s nothing wrong. I’m just a bit tired these days, that’s all.”

Though it did not do much to ease their worries, they reluctantly dropped the subject and recapitulated their previous conversations. Y/N sighed to herself, pleased that she did not expose any more of her melancholy than she already did. And though she appreciated the worries from her boyfriend and friends, she could not stop the guilt-ridden in her heart. She glanced up to Dean and stared as he converses with their friends.

Dating ever since their second year at Hogwarts, they were constantly seen holding hands or giggling in every class they shared. Multitudes of teachers and students even exclaimed how they were the cutest couple in their year.

It all started when a bludger headed towards Y/N during a quidditch match. Its speed was unmatched, struck by a beater known for their crazy strength. And when Dean, who sat next to her, pulled her away from it, the crowd roared. Not long after did they start to date, and fortunately, they both seriously liked each other. Dean adored her gentleness while she thought he was the perfect boyfriend; he was attentive, caring, and incredibly mature. Plus, he saved her life! She remembers how Lee Jordan explained that one knock from that bludger would have sent her straight to the grave.

‘But if he’s the perfect boyfriend, then… why don’t I feel happy?’

Still staring at his face, he turned his head towards her, shocked to catch her gaze but then giving her a sweet smile. She reciprocates his smile and then swiftly turns her head away, a pang of guilt hitting her chest.

Feeling overwhelmed with all her troubled thoughts and feelings, she stood up from her seat. “I completely forgot one of my books in my dorm!” She quickly gathered her stuff and brushed off her robes before placing a soft peck on Dean’s cheek. “Sorry, guys. I’ll see you all in class!” She exclaimed, not allowing her friends to say anything before she ran off in a hurry.

Dean eyed her figure as she disappeared from the Great Hall, concern evident on his face. He felt the two starting to drift, but he did not know what he could do to stop it. Dean wondered if she had also noticed this, yet he was too afraid to ask. And so, he quickly pushed away his worries and continues conversing with their friends.

Strolling down the bustling halls of Hogwarts, Y/N kept her head down, thoughts still swirling in her mind. She feared these feelings; after years of being together, she felt like she was betraying Dean and all his kindness. They did everything together, whether it be their homework or their summers. They even had the same friends! How is she going to chase away this strange, unhappy feeling when she is with Dean?

Not realizing that she wandered off into a quieter area in the school, she looked up to see a strange door in a corridor. “Isn’t this…” Y/N said to herself as she studied its patterns, “the Room of Requirement?”

The Room of Requirement was known to only be visible for those in great need of it. And so, it was not much of a shock when Dumbledore's Army utilized its space and secrecy to learn DADA, much to the scorn of Dolores Umbridge. However, as soon as the conflict ended with Umbridge kidnapped by centaurs near the end of their fifth year, it quietly vanished. And so, when its door randomly appeared in front of Y/N, she was shocked.

“Am I that much in need for it…?”

She cautiously looked around, making sure that no one saw her before she entered the room. Seeing that the room was completely different from the time when she was learning DADA from Harry, her mouth hung open in awe. The room had towers of ancient, rare books that were declared lost, and filled with random gold objects that seem to cost a fortune. And though her life was ridden by witches and wizards that did wonders no muggle could ever imagine, she found the room to be the true epitome of magic. And so, it became her secret escape.

For the next few days, Y/N would find ways to get out of hanging out with her friends and run to her new home. She would then use the time to gather up random furniture in the room and conjure up all her extra blankets and pillows to make a little nook for herself. It was the perfect place for her to relax and to forget all her worries.

After weeks of frequent visits to the room, Y/N realizes that she was not the only one in need of a room. Hiding underneath one of her cozy blankets, she peaked out to see who the blonde visitor could be. Much to her shock, it was none other than Draco Malfoy. She observed from afar as the other blonde visitor frequently examined what she later figured out was a Vanishing Cabinet.

Y/N did not know much about Draco, involved too deeply in her personal life, but she found his actions incredibly suspicious. She wondered if the room was safe now that Draco was using it but increasing desperation to escape, especially when Dean was starting to get more suspicious of her actions, made it impossible to abandon it all. And so, she found it fit to investigate Draco and to figure out what his intentions with the cabinet were.

“Draco is bad news,” Harry said as Y/N walked with him to their next class. “His whole family is aligned with Voldemort. I can assure that to you, Y/N.”

“Don’t take Harry’s accusations too seriously, Y/N. He’s just weirdly suspicious of Draco this year.” Hermione said reassuringly, waving off Harry’s serious comments. “But… he is an awful person. He’s bullied countless people, even me! Who even cares if I’m a mudblood…” Hermione grumbles while she fiddles with the sleeves of her robe.

Ron laughs. “You should have seen her, Y/N! She punched Draco’s stupid face in our third year. It was wicked!” He exclaimed proudly, causing Hermione to punch his shoulder, a hidden smile painted on her face.

Y/N gulped. Though she expected numerous rumors about Draco, she did not expect him to be involved with He-who-shall-not-be-named. “Thanks, guys.”

Unfortunately, the investigation did not help as much as she thought it would. And so, she resorted to pure luck that she would arrive at the room before Draco. This meant sprinting to the room as fast as she could or peering at every corner, wary of his approaching figure. However, she quickly realizes that it was a faulty plan as she stares at the shocked blonde-haired boy before her.

“Draco! What are you doing here?” Y/N nervously said while she tightly clutches the wand hidden in her robes.

“I could ask you the same thing,” Draco spitefully retorted. He eyed Y/N up and down, incredibly shocked to see another person other than him in the Room of Requirement. “Wait… Aren’t you Dean Thompson’s girl?”

Y/N smiled in response, but it was greatly strained. “Uh, yes. I’m Y/N.”

“Don’t tell me this is where you and Dean Thompson come to snog,” he said with disgust.

Y/N’s eyes widened. “No! Not at all! Dean doesn’t know about this place,” she quickly said. “I just… come here to think.”

Draco looked at her in disbelief, seeing straight through her awkward façade. “I don’t believe you.” He eyed her for a while, suspicious as to what her purpose was. After all, his mission as a Death Eater was of utmost importance, according to his father. If anyone were to learn of his plans, it would completely expose him and his family. “... Are you spying on me?”

“No! Why would I even spy on you?” Y/N exclaimed, glancing at the Vanishing Cabinet behind him. Draco noticed this and shuffled in front of it. “… What are you doing here?”

“It’s none of your business,” Draco spats. Noticing Y/N’s growing suspicion, he started to panic. His mind raced with multiple excuses or retorts to reflect the attention away from the mysterious cabinet behind him. “… I also come here to think.”

The two stood in silence for a while, unsure of what to say or do. It was not until Draco coughed to break the silence that seemed to eat them up alive.

“Well, I was just about to leave,” Draco said as he shoved Y/N away to get to the door. Before he opened it, he paused and looked back at her. “Don’t tell anyone about this place or the fact I was here... Y/L/N.” And with that, he quickly disappeared.

After that weird encounter, Y/N and Draco kept running into each other in the Room of Requirement. Draco was annoyed by her presence and kept trying to scare her away. However, Y/N knew this was related to his strange connection with the cabinet, thus wanting to interfere. She could not quite figure out why she was suspicious of his actions, but Y/N knew that she had to stop him. Plus, she despairingly needed an outlet, and the Room of Requirement was her only sanctuary.

“Back again, Y/L/N? You must not have any friends.” Draco chortled as he laid against one of the furniture in Y/N’s little nook with one of her fluffy pillows behind his head.

Y/N laughed, casually taking a seat next to him. “What are you talking about? Aren’t you my friend, Draco?”

He rolled his eyes, turning his head away to hide his smirk. “Who would want to be friends with a witch like you?”

In the beginning, the two were constantly annoyed with each other. After all, the two had reasons why they were using the room, and their presence impeded it. However, the two were stubborn, and neither wanted to back down. Eventually, after days and weeks of short arguments (with Draco usually doing all the yelling while Y/N timidly tries to switch the conversation), they started becoming used to their company, now even expecting it. She even got over the fact that he was a Death Eater.

Draco never told nor even planned on telling her, but she had already known for a while. She saw a glimpse of it when he rolled his sleeves up to move one of the tables for her to make their napping nook bigger.

She was incredibly shocked. Although Draco spoke of how his father used to be a Death Eater for Voldemort, he never told her that Draco, himself, associated with the evil bunch. After all, Y/N knew his mean exterior was a façade created by years of pressure and failed parenting from Lucius. While slowly getting to know him, she quickly grasped the depths of his insecurity plus her growing dislike for his father. However, when she saw his mark, it swiftly bogged down this image she had of him.

With his figure turned away from her, she quickly clutched her wand hidden in her bag, ready to aim it at him. But, when he placed down the hefty table while genuinely laughing from a joke he made, Y/N’s glare softened. Guilt panged her heart as she slowly puts down her wand.

‘No... Draco probably didn't have a choice,' Y/N thought. ‘He would never have wanted to be a Death Eater.’

Y/N hurriedly hid her wand behind her back as Draco turned around, a grin plastered on his face.

“So, you’re just going to sit there while I do all the hard work?” He sarcastically asked.

Y/N laughed while shuffling the wand into her bag behind her before standing up to join him. “Sorry about that. Let me help you with that.”

Y/N knew he was reserved like her, and so she was not surprised that he never talked about it, though they shared almost everything about themselves. But then again, she has not even shared her biggest regret: she was not in love with Dean.

***

Unfortunately, Y/N's fears started to become reality as her relationship with Dean strained with each sweet escape to the room. Ironically, it only increased her worries, causing her to yearn for her hidden spot even more.

“Y/N, talk to me! Are you just going to ignore what’s wrong between us?” Dean frustratingly asked as he holds on to her wrist, stopping her from running away from their argument. Not too long ago were they peacefully studying in the common room while their friends went to watch a quidditch friendly until Dean brought up the tension in their relationship. Y/N did not respond to it well.

Y/N shook her head fervently, tears of frustration brimming her eyes. “What are you talking about? Nothing is wrong!” She exclaimed, shaking his hand off her.

Dean groans as he scratches his head in frustration. “Why don’t you get real? Nothing has been right since the year began! You’ve been strangely down ever since, yet you never talk to me about it! Are you sure you even love me?!”

Y/N froze as her eyes widened out of shock. She was sure that Dean did not mean those words, yet they struck her like it was some sort of… revelation. Did she really love him? Is that why she felt so trapped? All kinds of thoughts start to swirl her mind, overwhelmed with the guilt that came with the questions.

“I-I have to go.”

Before Dean could stop her again, she ran out of the room and headed to the only place she could go - the Room of Requirement. She prayed that Draco would not be there. She did not want him to see her at her weakest, most pathetic moment, but when she saw his sullen figure and mysterious blue eyes that widened at the sight of her tears, she sighed in relief as she ran into his arms.

Though confused and greatly worried about her messy state, he did not question it. He continued to hold her tightly in his arms, combing her hair with his slender fingers as she continues to sob through his shirt. It pained him to see her cry like this, and he knew exactly the reason behind her tears.

After Y/N calmed down a bit, they both sat at the little nook in silence, excluding her sniffs. Draco gazed at Y/N as she kept rubbing the small tears that escaped her eyes, frustrated that she could not stop crying.

“It’s Dean, isn’t it?”

Y/N froze. She did not expect Draco to be so upfront, considering how she never spoke of her worries about Dean. “How did you know?” She asked quietly.

Draco sighed. “It's quite obvious. Every time you spoke of him, which was rare, you had this… sad look on your face. Plus, why else would you spend your time stuck with me and not with him?” He added with a little smile on his face.

Y/N chuckled slightly at his comment. “Sometimes I forget that you’re smart, Draco.”

In response, Draco shuffled away from Y/N, causing her to laugh and hold on to his arm, pulling him back closer to her. “I’m kidding! Please don’t get mad!”

Draco shook his head as he lightly chuckled. “So, what are you going to do now?”

“I… don’t know,” Y/N said with a heavy sigh. She bit her lip, wanting to finally share her deepest fear to Draco yet fearing that he will find it bothersome and annoying.

Draco noticed this look and sighed. Though he adored her kindness and immense consideration, he found it frustratingly annoying how she always downplayed her problems. As the only person who did not turn away from him and genuinely laughed at his mean jokes, he thought she deserved the world. And so, it saddened him that she did not think highly of herself.

“You know,” Draco said as he continues to gaze at her sullen figure, “you're incredibly stubborn. It doesn't matter if you find your problems annoying or not, I'll listen to them all. I thought you would know this by now, considering the weeks we've spent together. But now, I see that you need the affirmation, so here it is: When it comes to you, Y/N,” Draco placed a finger under her chin to turn her head to face his, thus locking their eyes into each other, “I could listen to all your problems.”

Lost inside the deep, blue ocean that is his eyes, she felt her heart leap right to her throat, begging to escape. Electricity ran throughout her body, her cheeks flushed red, and her mind absolutely blank, yet she felt like she was melting under his gaze. She could not comprehend the immense emotion within her as she gawked at the incredibly handsome, blonde boy, but Y/N knew it was something she has never felt before.

Snapping out of the trance she was in, Y/N hastily turned away from Draco and nodded in response. She took a few seconds to calm down from the blushing mess Draco made her before finally sharing her dreaded fears that she had been escaping for years. “Thank you, Draco.”

***

"Dean... we need to talk."

After pouring out her heart to Draco and embarrassingly sobbing in his arms, he helped her finally reach a revelation: she needs to break up with Dean.

Dean sighed as he placed down his book, relieved that Y/N had finally come to her senses. He patted the seat next to him. "Sit."

Y/N sighed as she sat down on the couch and fiddled with her fingers. "I'm sorry for how I've been acting these days. I've been completely rude to everyone, including you."

Dean shook his head, wrapping his arms around her. "No, you don't have to apologize, Y/N. I completely understand. Things have... changed between us, and I think we both noticed."

Y/N widened her eyes in shock. She never even fathomed that Dean has also been struggling with the same feeling. A rush of relief ran past through her, decreasing the stress that she never knew anchored her down. "Dean... I think we were both too young to know what love was. I-I mean, I cherished you greatly, and I was happy being with you, but I don't think we're truly in love with each other."

Dean sighed in relief. "Honestly, I'm so glad you said that. I was thinking the same thing, but I was too guilty to realize it."

The two looked at each other in shock for a while before falling into a burst of laughter. It was funny how the two struggled and avoided guilty emotions for a long time before finally confronting them, only realize that they felt the same way. It was a great relief to both of them.

Y/N sighs in relief as she then rests her head on his shoulder. He responds by laying down his head on top of hers. "I know we're breaking up and all, but... I want to stay as friends. Though we weren't the perfect couple, we are incredibly great friends."

Dean chuckled. "We really are, aren't we?" He gently rubbed her arms as he, too, sighed in relief. "I like the sound of that. Friends."

The two continued to chat for a while, finally pouring out their thoughts and feelings that they have kept hidden. Though Dean was scared to tell her, Y/N was incredibly pleased and supportive when he told her that he started to fancy Ginny. Though she did not tell Dean about her feelings for Draco, she did reveal that she might have fallen in love.

"Love? You're in love with someone?!" Dean said, shock and excitement evident in his voice.

Y/N shook her head fervently, her cheeks flushing red. "Maybe! I don't know... it's different when I'm with him. I don't really understand these feelings, to be honest."

"Well... whoever this person may be, I hope he treats you well," Dean said sweetly, affectionately placing a small kiss on her cheek. "You deserve it."

Y/N smiled. "Thank you, Dean. You deserve to fall in love also... and I hope it goes well with Ginny."

Dean laughed, and the two continued to chatter away into the night.

***

Days passed since the break-up, and everyone was incredibly shocked by the news of the Hogwart's favorite couple's break-up, especially when they saw the two still comfortably hanging out with each other. Their friends, too, were surprised to see the two still harmonious, but they eventually adjusted to the new dynamic.

Y/N, genuinely happy since she first entered her sixth year, stood in front of the familiar door. She took a deep breath before entering. As the door gently closed behind her, she looked around for the familiarly blonde streak. However, Draco was nowhere to be found.

“He would usually be here by now,” Y/N said to herself as she continued to whip her head around, hoping to spot the blonde-haired boy.

After quite some time of searching, she gave up and walked to her quaint nook. Though planned to be a place for reading or studying, its warmth and comfiness were perfect for napping. And so, she was pleasantly surprised when she found the Slytherin boy fast asleep with a fuzzy blanket on top of him.

Y/N quietly approached the sleeping boy before gently sitting next to his feet. She gazed at his peaceful face with a smile, wondering if he were happily dreaming. She thoroughly analyzed every detail of his features as if she were embedding the image in her mind forever. After all, this was one of the rare moments in which Draco let down his guard. She could not pass up this opportunity.

Her eyes then wandered to his arm. His sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, revealing the Death Mark that he so desperately hated. Y/N then remembered the many time when she saw him staring sadly at his dreaded mark or when he would unconsciously scratch it when he was talking about his problems to her or when lost in thought.

Y/N snapped out of her thought when she heard Draco stirring awake next to her. He groaned as he stretched his body, his feet touching her arms. He realized this and gently nudged her with it, causing her to giggle. Draco then smirked before getting up and sitting up straight next to her.

“Good afternoon, Sleeping Beauty. How was your sleep?” Y/N teasingly said with a huge smile on her face, staring at the wonderful bed head that he sported.

Draco playfully glared at her while running a hand through his hair. Though he would never admit it to her, he was happy with her presence. She always eased his worries, her laughs immediately diminishing the pressures and expectations from his parents that seemed to eat him up bit by bit. “It was amazing… until you came along to ruin it,” he said as he gently nudges her with his shoulder.

Y/N laughed as she shook her head. “How was your day?” Y/N said as she mindlessly looked elsewhere, particularly at the tower of books that leaned over their little nook.

After a minute with no response from Draco, Y/N sighed in exasperation before repeating her question. “Draco, did you hear me? I asked how your da-“

“Did you see it?” Draco said with a stern tone. He stared at his death mark which was visible the whole time he was sleeping. He knew that Y/N would have for sure it. Yet, he was desperately hoping that she did not, afraid of what she would think of him if she knew that he had the mark.

Sensing the serious tone in his voice, Y/N quickly turned her head towards Draco. Shocked and unsure of what to say, she sat in silence with her mouth hung open.

“Y/N. Did you see it?” Draco repeated but louder and more sternly. He then turned to her, revealing the tears that were brimming his eyes.

It caught Y/N off guard, her heart banging against her chest. Draco has shown vulnerability to her before, but he has never cried in front of her.

She reached for his hands, but he instantly drew them away, causing her heart to ache even more. “…Yes. I did.”

Draco groaned, burying his head into his hands. Y/N saw his tears of anguish falling onto the ground and staining it. Her eyes stung as Draco's sullen figure breaks down in front of her.

“… Get away from me.” He muttered scornfully, but it sounded muffled between his tears.

This was his greatest fear; after getting closer to Y/N, he came to fear the day in which she would find out about his true identity. During lonely nights, he would imagine himself telling her about his mark. He knew that she would, for sure, run and tell Potter as soon as he told her, but he liked to imagine her embracing him, not caring about his mark but rather his pain and struggles. But he quickly dismissed the thought. After all, who would ever feel sorry for a Death Eater?

“Go!” He exclaimed, anguish evident in his voice.

Y/N adamantly shook her head, then hugging his figure from behind, much to Draco's shock. “No, Draco. I’m not leaving,” she quietly said, though shakingly.

Draco tried to shake her off, but that only made her hold onto him tighter. “Draco, I already knew about it!” She exclaimed.

He froze. “…What?”

“I saw it long before today,” she said with a sigh, “and I honestly don’t care about it.”

Draco turns to face her, his eyes were red from the tears. “What are you trying to say?”

Y/N stared at his pain-ridden face and could not help but cup his cheek, wiping the remaining tears with her thumb. Soothed by her gentle touch, his gaze softened.

“I know we never talked about it, but… I knew what you were struggling with. I even knew what you were trying to do with the Vanishing Cabinet,” she said with a glance at the cabinet that stood a few feet away from them. “But this mark… it’s not you.”

His eyes widened. He was in complete shock.

Y/N heavily sighed before taking his hands into hers. “Draco, you are much more amazing than you think, and I’m not talking about your status or family. I’m talking about you as a person. I honestly think you are the strongest person I have ever met. You go through so much crap with your family and have to follow whatever they want you to do, and I’m shocked by how you handle it all.” Y/N shakingly said with her head down, hiding the tears that were streaming down her cheeks. “I can’t even imagine how scary your life must be, and yet you continue to hang out with my lonely self,” she said with a little laugh, causing Draco to chuckle also.

Draco then puts his hand on her cheeks and lifts her head. Their eyes then lock into each other, and they both fall into a deep, intimate gaze. They often shared intimate gazes, usually when they are doing their homework or just sitting in silence, but this time, it felt different. Unspoken words that they were too often afraid to say aloud seemed to be expressed solely through their eyes.

Draco then shifts his gaze to her lips, causing Y/N to quiver. Then, as if there was a magnetic pull between them, their faces inches closer before their lips touched.

Time seemed to stop as the world around them grew quiet. Their minds were blank, their focus solely on the touch that they both yearned for quite some time. Y/N felt his tear fall onto her cheek, but she paid it no mind as she deepened their kiss.

Then reluctantly breaking apart the kiss, they stared into each other's eyes in awe, the electricity that ran through them as they kissed still resonating.

"Wow," Y/N quietly said. "We should have done this long ago."

Draco chuckled before pulling her into an embrace, laying his head on top of hers. "Believe me, I wanted to, even when you were still with Thompson."

Y/N laughed before playfully hitting his arm, then falling back into his arms. "Draco... I think I'm in love with you."

Draco bit his lip, tears threatening to leave his eyes again. "...Are you sure? Even when I'm a-"

"Yes," Y/N stated sternly as she rubbed the arm that held his mark. "I don't care if you are one or not. I am so incredibly in love with you."

Draco laughed in relief. Never in his wildest imagination would the girl he so lovingly adores would accept him and his darkest fears. He could feel himself falling for the girl, even more so than he already has.

"You don't have to be so cheesy about it," said Draco teasingly, causing Y/N to hit his arm again, which causes him to laugh. "...But I love you also. More than you know."

The two smile at each other, falling deeper into their embrace. The silence envelops the two as they continue to sway and hold tightly onto each other. They silently thanked whatever being or thing that fated the two to meet, for it led them to this perfect moment.

"... Thank you," Draco said as he leaned his forehead gently against hers, gazing deeply into the eyes he swiftly fell in love with.

#draco malfoy #draco #draco x you #hp #hp fanfic #harry potter #draco fanfiction #draco x reader #draco malfoy fanfic #draco malfoy x reader #draco malfoy imagine #draco x y/n #hp fandom

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ak8shi · 4 years

Text

FWB HQ Boys: In which you beat the player at his own game!

warnings: Time skip spoilers, mentions of sex(all characters are 18+), stupid people in love

a/n: I love one(1) libra man!! I love Atsumu’s character and the way he’s developed in hq and I think that this is a very probable way in which he finds love !! thank you all so much for loving the first installment so much <3 I-I went a little overboard with this one but ,, xoxo Chlo

━Miya Atsumu

Let’s start with a little background; I think we can all agree Atsumu is and always has been popular with the ladies

…But that doesn’t necessarily mean the ladies are popular with him LMAO

He’s truly the emotionally unavailable heartbreaker and he built himself quite a reputation without even knowing it

This dude doesn’t even really fuck around with girls, maybe a few meaningless flings his senior year but besides that, he only has eyes for one lady and her name begins with the letter V and ends with ball

LET’S GO

So you’ve known Atsumu for years unfortunately,,, and you surely know about how he treats the girls that approach him with confessions and boxes of chocolates

You don’t approve of it at all, but your family is practically family with the Miya’s and you’ve literally spent every major holiday with them since you can remember

You: Atsumu would it kill you to show some respect towards these women

Atsumu: If she breathes, she’s a thot

….smh… a fucking mess someone please put him in his place

However your mom was always happy that you could be around the twins since you were an only child, and she loved the idea of you having two brothers who would protect you from the evils of college men little did she know,,

You hate to admit it and we hate to see it, but you started to develop a crush on him your freshman year of high school.. you suppose it was because you spent so much time with him and you saw parts of him that a lot of people didn’t get to see I mean you also saw him with his jersey on and off pretty often how could you resist

For example, every Halloween you had a sleep-over tradition where you watched horror films after trick-or-treating and Atsumu was scared SHITLESS every year, I’m talking ripping your favorite blanket off you and burying his face in it to block out the movie, he would threaten you and Osamu about telling people at school about it

Him, a 17 year old teen standing in your doorway at 3:40 am: c-can I sleep on yer floor I LOVE HIM SKAKAKAJSW

You, filming him and sending it to Suna on snap: sure Atsumu <3

You found yourself entranced when he automatically gave you his school cardigan on the walks home from school when it was cold or raining, and completely enraptured by his cute little accent

Atsumu: did ya know yer a fuckin’ idiot bimbo stupid butt crack for not bringin’ yer jacket

Atsumu: yer lucky I’m a gentleman

You: ...

Osamu: god…..

It was naïve to think he would ever reciprocate feelings especially with his entire life being his volleyball career, and you convinced yourself it was a tiny high school crush and eventually you managed to repress it

Too much was on the line; you didn’t want to make both of your families awkward, and you needed to focus on your studies as one of the top students at Inarizaki yes ma’am

Besides you loved him like family right ???

RIGHT ???

The twins are a year older than you, and Atsumu had just signed to play professionally for MSBY!!

You at his official signing: wow, looks like you don’t have to resort to living on the streets after all

Him: yeah ❤️

You kind of forgot about how you felt about him since you weren’t seeing either of the twins consistently anymore with how busy both of you were; you stayed in contact, but nothing really serious

It was weird because you were still in high school while the boys were experiencing college and doing their own thing… you drifted apart honestly and you felt a bit awkward talking to them sometimes, you felt like you were bothering them Atsumu would probably tease you and say that you were

Another year passed and you were heading to college! You are living your best life, meeting new people, and then you got the text from your mom that you were doing Thanksgiving with the Miya’s,, you weren’t sure if that meant you would be seeing both twins but something about the possibility of seeing Atsumu again made something stir in your chest

Fall break hit and you found out both the twins and you were back at home since Atsumu also had a rare break from training and his regular professional season

You were helping Osamu out at his shop, since it was his first time dealing with the overflow of Thanksgiving season as a new business owner

You’re helping close the shop, when you hear the door jingle; you turn to say a polite “sorry we’re closed for the day,” but you’re met with what seems like a new and improved and muscular Atsumu OH NO

He looks amazing and so much older than you remember??? And he’s thinking the same thing about you!!! Like wow she’s changed a lot since she started college, I’ve missed a lot apparently ??

You immediately fall into his arms, inhaling his familiar scent, Osamu rolling his eyes at the two of you and telling you to get lost before he yaks

You leave the shop with Atsumu, inviting him to your house; as you enter, you catch your mom leaving to pick up some last-minute groceries for the Thanksgiving meal

She’s acts way happier to see Atsumu than she acted when you came home LMAO later she doesn’t shut up about how handsome and manly he’s become, but you just pull him away to your room and lock your door behind you

He goes to sit on your flower-patterned comforter from your childhood, newly washed thanks to your mother

Atsumu: so…. what’s up with you..?

You can’t control the churning of your stomach all of a sudden; you can’t remember him ever looking at you this way, like he’s looking at a woman

The feelings come rushing back, and literally all you can think about is kissing him

You lean back on your dresser in front of the bed, and a wave of need to express yourself washes over you,

“Atsumu, I missed you.”

You don’t even know what’s happening until you’re trapped in between Atsumu and the door, his mouth gently pressed against yours, his warm hands caressing your hips

He asks if this is okay, and all you can do is moan back a yes in response

Let’s just say your mom might need to clean your comforter again lmaoo

It’s complicated and you’re both kinda confused after… like no one admitted that they had feelings for the other and its not like either of you can just disappear from the other’s life like a random hook-up

BUT BOTH OF YOU ARE TOO STUPID AND STUBBORN TO REALIZE YOU LIKE EACH OTHER AND WANT A RELATIONSHIP I-

Like he’s literally cuddling you and kissing you and asking you about college in your childhood bedroom naked what

And it ISN’T uncomfortable at all

It feels so right to be in his arms, and you’re in disbelief about what happened??? What even like how have you gone all this time without doing anything honestly

You suddenly hear your dad pull into the garage, and you’re both up and putting your clothes on as fast as possible

It’s embarrassing when you look back on it, how long the hook-ups went on, but this was a common occurrence whenever the two of you were home

It was basically like you were dating and doing long-distance without the label

IT WENT ON FOR ALMOST A YEAR 🤡

Osamu during next year’s Thanksgiving meal: I think we should go around the table and say what we’re thankful for, I’ll go first. I’m thankful that two people at this table are getting laid despite the fact that I’m not 😊

Your parents:

Atsumu, in many ways, is oblivious to what his feelings mean after not really being in any real relationships and blocking out all the girls during high school,

He would find himself texting you after each of his matches, hoping you had watched him and his heart would flutter when you complimented him on his sets

Atsumu on the phone with you: yeah I’m just chillin’ with the boys rn 😏

Sakusa: get the fuck off my bed and get off the phone with your girlfriend so I can sleep

Atsumu: she’s not my girlfr-

Sakusa, talking loud enough for you to hear: I literally don’t care but don’t you have her picture saved as your lockscreen?

He tried to hook-up with someone when he was away playing a tournament in the summer, but it wasn’t the same and it was only good if he imagined it was you

He never did it again and before coming home for Christmas, he called Osamu to finally ask him what to do

Osamu: about time you meathead

Osamu literally spells it out to this man; he has been and is in love with you and he needs to do something about it asap before someone else snatched you away

Atsumu: why didn’t ya just say somethin’ ? Ya know I’m not good at these typa things !

I can’t he’s something else

So it’s Christmas, and he asks if you would want to go see the town square’s Christmas lights with him

Of course you say yes, you’re just really excited to finally see him after so long !!

Atsumu with rosy cheeks ugh spare me

He picks you up and greets you with a kiss to your temple, and he has a little gift baggie with him; he hands it to you to open and you pull out his old school cardigan

“I-I thought maybe you would want it since ya always stole it from me in high school, and since I’m half-way ‘round the world most of the time”

It smells just like him, you thank him with a kiss to his cheek and you tuck it away in your bedroom before leaving hand-in hand to see the colorful lights dazzling in the night sky

You talked to Osamu about your relationship with his brother and you want Atsumu to make a move honestly; you want to be sure he wants this since you’ve literally liked him since high school

You’re not sure what you are expecting, but when Atsumu has you in his arms, your back against his chest and his chin on your shoulder as you watch the Christmas carolers, you don’t expect him to whisper into your ear,

“hey, will ya be my girl?”

You turn around to give him a surprised look, his hand bringing yours to his mouth to plant a soft kiss on your knuckles this is his favorite place to kiss fight me

After getting over your dream-like shock, you say yes and pull him into a kiss

I’m crying he tells you afterwards that you were his girl since the first time he met you, we’ll let him have this one because did he really know until like a week ago? no

Whew, all of your friends and family let out a relieved sigh when they hear the news LMAO

Suna, hearing about Atsumu finally making it official: thank god I was about to start blackmailing him with those Halloween videos

#did writing this make me fall in love with him?maybe so #haikyuu!!#atsumu #miya atsumu x reader #miya atsumu #atsumu headcanons #atsumu scenarios #atsumu x reader #atsumu fluff #atsumu imagines #hq #hq fluff #hq scenarios #hq headcannon #hq drabble #hq x reader #haikyu x reader #haikyuu imagine #haikyuu headcannons

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arcane-apathy · 3 years

Text

Part 1

AN: Part 1 of 3 for this Male Naga X Female Reader. I’m hoping to get better at writing short stories, but it’ll take some practice. I hope y’all enjoy!

Warning(s): N/A

You didn’t know why you decided to leave home but your mind was already made up and the U-Haul was already packed. There was no going back now. You didn’t want to be a big city nurse anymore, and you also didn’t want to move back to your hometown. So, this year you decided to move to New Mexico, specifically Peralta. A town of a little over three thousand people. The eastern half of town right on the border of the Isleta Pueblo Reservation, and the Rio Grande River to the west. You could even see the Manzano Mountain Range in the distance.

The drive to Peralta was taxing, but unbelievably beautiful. No wonder why New Mexico is called The Land of Enchantment. You made it to your new home in the middle of the day, and the sun was high above you. Of course you decided to move in the middle of summer, the dry heat smacking you in the face as you got out of the rental truck. You shielded your eyes from the sun as you stared at your new home.

The property was near the end of a dirt road, about a city block away from the local cemetery. But you didn’t mind, in fact it made the house even cheaper. You’d just have to remember to cleanse the house whenever you got a chance. The house was a simple one-story pueblo style house, the faux-adobe outside was an ivory color, and the windows were painted pear green. It lacked the wooden vigas, making it obvious that it wasn’t an actual pueblo home. The house was small, the yard was huge, it had a detached stainless-steel garage, and a dirt driveway. All surrounded by a chain link fence with a gate.

It didn’t take you long to unload the U-Haul, considering you sold most of your things before you moved. You lay your mattress on the bedroom floor and the majority of boxes stay in your living room. You look at the time on your phone, there was still two hours until the U-Haul’s scheduled return time. Un-packing wasn’t the first item on the agenda, some serious cleaning needed to be done before you thought about anything else.

Granted the house wasn’t in horrible shape, but it was obvious that it’s been a few months since anyone has lived in it. The air was stuffy, there was dust on everything, and there was dirt all over the floors. You search for your bag of cleaning supplies that you bought at a Wal-Mart in Albuquerque, well prepared to clean. With the house being so small, it didn’t take you long to clean, so you took your time admiring your new home. The house was made in the seventies, the Spanish-style linoleum tiles in the kitchen being the proof. Yet it didn’t look like it came out of a home magazine that your grandmother would've read. There were some obvious updates throughout the years. Thankfully central air was one of them.

You returned the U-Haul and the towing dolly on time, driving your car back home. You stopped at a Domino’s on the way home, not yet ready to try the local food. Unpacking was the only thing on your mind. And no surprise to you, it took all night. Packing wasn’t easy, because you had to take things from their place and sort them into boxes. Unpacking was another challenge, the amount of times you switched which cabinet your plates went in was frustrating. By two in the morning you had everything put away, there were sheets on your bed, and your eyelids were heavy.

~~***~~

It’s been a month since you’ve moved, and you’ve loved it more that you’d ever thought. Living in your one bedroom house was a dream compared to any other apartment you’ve had before. You’ve gotten over the linoleum in the kitchen, and you couldn’t even imagine the house without it. The yard was easy to maintain, considering it was primarily dirt. You didn’t see much of your neighbors but they were nice from what you could tell. And the quiet was refreshing.

You spent most of your days at work, a health center in the middle of the Isleta Pueblo Reservation. The work was tough, and didn’t pay much, but it was obvious that they needed you there. According to your co-workers everyone wanted to work in the big cities and that smaller health centers, especially ones for the native populations, were constantly understaffed. You became a licensed practical nurse because you wanted to help people, and working in an at risk community fulfilled that goal.

To say you were surprised when your co-worker invited you to her birthday party in Albuquerque was an understatement. Although you didn’t know her that well, you still went. You needed socialization outside of the workplace and the occasional video calls with your family back home. So, you put on your best outfit and did your best to look presentable. The night started off at a restaurant, the food was amazing, and the company was actually enjoyable. After dinner you all went to a bar, so far it was a typical birthday party for a bunch of girls in their twenties.

You stood against the wall, nursing a drink as everyone else in your group dance. Normally you weren’t such a party pooper, but these girls weren’t much of your crown. It was too early in the night to go home, and they all knew that you didn’t work tomorrow so you couldn’t use that excuse. Hence why you resorted to people watching. The bar was packed with humans and non-humans alike, all dancing with each other. There were already a few couples sharing face in the darker corners.

“You look bored,” a blunt voice shook you from your daze. You look to the side, noticing as a tall man slithered up to you. Not metaphorically. Your eyes instantly gravitated to his tail, the bulk of muscle trailing closely behind him as he moved. You couldn’t help but be mesmerized by the pattern of his scales. The base was beige and was decorated in an assortment of splotches all in varying shades of brown, and at the very end of it all was a black rattle. He laughs at your reaction, “have you never seen a Naga before?”

“Not up close, there weren’t that many back home,” you flush a little as you are caught staring. Which wasn’t a lie, you didn’t see many growing up, nor did you encounter a lot at work either. A surprising statistic you’ve learned since you moved is that New Mexico has the highest population of Naga in the United States, with Texas as a close second. You have seen a few as you wandered around Peralta and the neighboring towns, but you have yet to talk to them.

“Oh, you’re from out of town. How exciting,” he smiles and extends a hand, “Santiago Rosales.” You shake his hand and introduce yourself. His smile grows and the rainbow lights from the dance floor reflect off his fangs. You couldn’t deny that he was an attractive man, tan skin, curly raven hair, a triangular face with a strong jawline, and golden serpentine eyes. You look back at the dance floor and notice one of your co-workers giving you a thumbs up. “So, not to sound cheesy… But why is a pretty chica like you, not out there?”

You flush a little at his definitely cheesy comment, “I’ve already done my socializing for the evening, but if I leave now I’ll never hear the end of it at work. What about you, why aren’t you out there?”

He motions to his tail, “I’m in no mood to get stomped on.”

“Oh… I didn’t even think of that. Does it happen often?”

“It happened a lot when I was a kid, but I was kinda a wimpy kid too,”

You raise a brow as you look at how snugly his button up fits to his arms and chest, “wimpy?”

“Hey I wasn’t always like this, I was a string bean growing up. It took years for this to happen,” he motions to himself proudly. You laugh and finish your drink, Santiago looks at the empty glass, “may I offer to buy you another drink?”

You contemplate it for a second then shake your head, “no thank you, I have to drive home tonight. And I don’t live in Albuquerque.”

“Is it too weird to ask where you live then?”

“Peralta,” you shrug.

“Really? My mom lives in Peralta… Maybe I’ll see you around?”

~~***~~

And you did, the first time you saw Santiago was at the grocery store. You were trying to figure out what brand of refried beans to buy when he came down the aisle, slithering alongside an older Naga woman. He didn’t acknowledge you, which made you question whether he recognized you at all. The second time you saw him was at the post office, and he immediately smiled when he saw you. Your heart couldn’t help to flutter at the sight of him. The third time was at the bank, both of you waiting in line at the tellers.

The fourth time was when everything changed. You were standing in the bathroom aisle at Target in Albuquerque, looking through the wide array of shower curtain options. You heard your name being called and you looked up, expecting to see someone from work, possibly even a regular patient. But, instead your eyes were graced with the sight of a familiar Naga in a taut shirt and a leather jacket, “oh, hi Santiago.”

“Hola, looking for a shower curtain I see,” he smiles as he sidles up beside you.

You fluster a little, realizing you were still wearing your baggy maroon scrubs. “Indeed I am, it’s been two months and my house still looks like no one lives in there.”

He looks you up and down, his eyes stopping at the embroidered patch above your breast, “you work at Isleta Health Center?”

Your brows knit in confusion and you look down at the patch, resisting the urge to face palm, “yes, yes I do. Sorry, I just got off my shift and I kinda forgot I was still wearing this monstrosity.”

“You don’t look bad at all if I’m being honest…”

Damn he was slick, “it’s not the worst, but I hate how plain it is. I sold all my fun scrubs when I moved, so I’m stuck with the standard issues until I buy more.” He nods and looks at the shower curtains in your hands curiously. “So, what are you here for?”

"Uhh… Honestly I don't even know anymore. They didn't have what I needed, so I just started to aimlessly slither around the store. And then I found you."

"Aimlessly wandering around Target can be dangerous," you chuckle.

"I haven't learned my lesson apparently," he gives you a lopsided smile, "last time it happened I came home with a pillow that had some motivational quote.”

“Yikes,” you laugh and put one of the curtains back onto it’s metal hook.

“Yikes indeed,” he crosses his arms over his chest as he looks at the options before him. “So, do you have any style in mind.”

“Santiago, you don’t need to help me.”

“I fear if I don’t help you, you’ll be stuck in the store until it closes,” he teases with a wink.

You feel the heat rising to your cheeks, “alright fine. My house is pueblo style, built in the seventies. The bathroom was recently remodeled before they sold it, so the walls are plain, it has normal wood, and laminate tiles that look like travertine. It’s very boring.”

“So you need something to spice it up?”

“Exactly,” you pick up a geometric patterned one, looking at the picture on the cardboard.

Santiago shakes his head, "nope", he takes it out of your hand and puts it back. You look at him dumbfounded by how brash he was. He puts another one in your hands, “this one looks like you.”

You look down at the curtains, it was a simple floral. But with the way the bright flowers were stylized like they were from an Alfredo Ramos Martinez painting. “This is cute.”

“You look like a floral person.”

“How does one look like a floral person, without being an actual nymph?” He shrugs and you simply roll your eyes, “you’re lucky I tolerate you.”

He winces, “just tolerate?”

“Well, I don’t know you that well…”

“Then let's get to know each other,” his posture straightens. “Why don’t we go out for a coffee someday, as a date?” You must’ve stared at him like he grew another head because he immediately fell back on his statement, “or not a date?”

“No… A date is fine.”

“Is it?”

“Definitely.”

“Then why are you still looking at me like that?”

Your face instantly turns a scarlet color, “I… It's been awhile since I’ve been on a date. So, the fact that you are asking me on a date, in a Target, is mind boggling.”

“Do you want me to ask you outside the Target?”

“That’s not the point,” you sigh, trying to steady your breathing. “So, a date?”

Santiago smirks, “give me your phone.” You scowl and he shrinks at your stern gaze, “por favor?” Reluctantly you unlock and hand him your phone, watching as he makes himself a contact. “Text me when you get home, I should have a fantastic plan by then.”

“No coffee?”

“Nope, you deserve more than a coffee.” You flush again as he smiles victoriously, “I’ll let you get back to shopping so you can get home at a decent hour. Talk to you soon, cariño.” You watch as he slithers out of the aisle with a wave over his shoulder. You can’t help but stare, looking at the end of the aisle then back at the curtains in your hand. For some reason, the bright flowers just felt right. So, you put the package into your basket and head off to find the next item on your list. And you couldn’t wait until you got home.

#Naga X Reader #X Reader Miniseries #M Naga x F Reader #Exophilia #Terato #My Works #My Writing #Original Content #Monster X Reader

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star-consultant · 3 years

Text

Bright are the stars

You need a Beatle song that perfectly encapsulates your sign? Of course you do. (Spotify playlist)

Aries—“I Saw Her Standing There”

One two three FOUR! An eager and intense song for an eager and intense sign. Aries falls hard and fast, with a tendency to rash vows that everyone doubts they mean—but Aries doesn’t doubt. Paul (who later styled himself as a "ram” at a key point in his creative development) makes good on the Cardinal Fire vibe with his exuberant vocals, and John of the Aries rising contributed the street-smart innuendo that utterly makes the song: And you know what I mean. Fittingly, this song kicked off the group’s first album, which itself has plenty of Aries “HELLO I AM HERE TO MAKE A MARK ON YOUR WORLD! (like me plz ok? this is my heart and i am Doing My Best??)” energy.

Taurus—“All I’ve Got to Do"

A song that takes its sweet time but burrows deeper than the average ear-worm into your consciousness. It’s a patient song that is unassuming but knows exactly what the hell it’s doing. The intensity builds bit by bit, so that you’re unaware when the power of the bridge comes crashing down. Describes the Taurean romantic ideal: lazy, loyal, cozy, constant, tender, and ever-so-true. Also, “All I’ve Got to Do” is featured on the second album, With the Beatles, which has plenty of other Bullish touches, noticeable even with a casual glance at the tracklist: “Don’t Bother Me,” “Not a Second Time,” and “Money (That’s What I Want).”

Gemini—“She Loves You”

Paul is a Gemini Sun, and throughout his catalogue it shows. But perhaps he never topped the Twinniness of this energetic, optimistic, breathless, gossipy classic. It was composed “eye-to-eye” with John, a truly dual-authored song, and one the rare Beatles numbers where the two lead vocalists double up on every single line, in true (Nerk) Twin fashion. Also the first but definitely not the last of their many “third-person narratives,” Paul’s novelistic instead of confessional slant being distinctly a Gemini thing. The speaker in this one couldn’t be more enthusiastic about this relationship if it were already repaired, and he couldn’t be more enthusiastic about it if it were his. Love is great! People reconciling is great! You should be glad, dumbass! But the real corker? What makes this so Gemini that it hurts? Yoko has confirmed that in the early 70s, during her separation with John, she actually had Paul play agony aunt. Then, during that meetup in L.A. where they were last photographed together, Paul urged John to “apologize to her” and get back together... which he did. That’s right. "She Loves You” is not merely a Gemini’s song: it’s a Gemini’s life.

Cancer—“Octopus’s Garden”

Ringo the Crab’s musically-complex fantasy about an underwater sanctuary where children are “happy and safe,” he and his lover can be together, and there’s “no one there to tell us what to do.” George (a triple Water sign himself, probably not-so-incidentally) always insisted that his best mate’s song Had Depths, and he himself supplied a lot of them: check out his lead guitar lines. They function as emotional counterpoint. When Ringo’s vocal line is especially wistful, the guitar is bright; when Ringo ends on a confident note, the guitar is quirky, ironic, even stiff-upper-lip pessimistic. Result: a shifting kaleidoscope of FEELS. The Moon approves.

Leo—“Good Day Sunshine”

Paul perfectly expresses his own Leo moon with a sublime, vibrant ode to laughter, love, and pride on a cloudless summer day. The bit in the lyrics about she knows she’s looking fine and I’m so proud to know that she is mine? That’s not marring the high tone of the song: that is part of the tone. Hear us roar! And by “roar” I mean "laugh and canoodle, coz Leo is about living the good life, bitches.”

Virgo—“Please Please Me”

What’s fair is forkin’ fair, mate! A exemplary blend of Virgo’s Mutable passive-aggressive sensitivity with its Elemental directness... half-critical, half-begging... plus the very sign-typical humblebragging. About their sexual prowess. Damn, Virgo. People forget how Earthy you really are sometimes. But here we are. In very Virgo fashion, instead of ditching the girl he’s decided to harangue her. On a more meta note, the Beatles were still studio virgins when they first began crafting this song, and it took several passes and incorporation of George Martin’s feedback before it became the bursting pop hit as we know it now. There’s that Virgo work ethic paying off.

Libra—“Strawberry Fields Forever”

The imagery of the title suggests an eternal harvest. But the star sign resemblance goes deeper than that: Always, no, sometimes think it’s me, but, you know, I know when it’s a dream. I think, er, no, I mean, er, yes, but it’s all wrong... that is, I think I disagree. Did you just hear your Libra roommate rambling after a joint, or did you listen to verse three of “Strawberry Fields”? Same difference. The song is absolutely lovely, as anything associated with the child of Venus should be, and innovative, as befits a Cardinal sign. Most of all, even in all of Libra Sun John’s weighing and weed-wandering, he knows one thing: he’s got to take someone else along with him. A companion, stat!

Scorpio—“While My Guitar Gently Weeps”

George of the Scorpio moon and Scorpio ascendant had to really lean into this side of his nature to even get this damn track properly recorded. He resorted to the social power play of inviting Eric frickin’ Clapton into the tense post-India studio just to get Lennon, McCartney, and Martin to give his song proper Beatle recording magic. Which it deserved. The dark drama of the hard-won arrangement is the perfect Scorpio accompaniment to the moody, reflective lyrics about “all the love there that’s sleeping” in this weary world. There’s tender, horrified pity here for those who are stifled into inauthenticity: I don’t know how nobody told you how to unfold your love. I don’t know how someone controlled you; they bought and sold you... Bonus points for the Watery ‘just can’t even’-ness of not being able to so much as pick up a damn broom.

Sagittarius—“Something”

You’re asking me, will my love grow? I don’t know, I don’t know! A deeply instinctual lover knows that Cupid has done hit a bullseye. He remains emphatically ambivalent about the future, but he knows what he feels in this moment, and in that moment is romance and wonder that is as deep as the earth is from the heavens. Sags are intense, but of all the Fire signs they are most far-seeing and detached (due to their Mutable quality, which makes them see the world a bit more like an Air sign does). “Something” keeps trying to capture that je-ne-sais-quoi, and despite the speaker’s happiness he can’t help but circle back again and again to take another shot at that the mental target. A philosopher even when in love. Ultimately, however, he doesn’t want to leave her now... which for a restless Sag is already saying a ton.

Capricorn—“Revolution”

John let his unfashionable midheaven Capricorn off the leash with this blunt, pointed savaging of radical and violent revolutions. (Given the tanks on Tiananmen Square and the millions dead on the killing fields of Cambodia, I can’t say that his cautionary note about “destruction” and “minds that hate” was unnecessary.) Few things are more Capricorn than ‘Oh, you want my money? Yeah, first show me that you’ve done your fucking homework, mate.’ Bonus Earth points for the fact that he somehow worked sex—a lot of sex—into this political track.

Aquarius—“Come Together”

John of the Aquarius moon’s decidedly loony attempt to write a political campaign song in order to stop Reagan. (The result was too weird for Timothy Leary, whose reaction was pretty much ‘wtf? I don’t think even I have enough residual acid in my system for this one... ’) John invokes the ideal of collaboration, but his call to solidarity is built around fantastical lyrics that no one can comprehend: He wear no shoeshine, he got/Toejam football, he got/Monkey finger, he shoot/Coca-Cola, he say/I know you, you know me... Oh, right. The lyrics contain exactly one discernible message: One thing I can tell you is you got to be free. How Aqua. Also in true collaborative Water-Bearer fashion, the arrangement really makes the song (special mention to the tight, tight work of the rhythm section). Bizarre genius that attracts a true team effort—it doesn’t get much more Aquarius than that.

Pisces— “I Want to Tell You”

The wall of sound builds up thickly enough that soon the words seem to be traveling through the sea to reach you: I want to tell you my head is filled with things to say... But when you’re here, all those words, they seem to slip away. A gorgeously, emotionally tongue-tied song... about being tongue-tied. Written by George, a Pisces Sun, this absolute mystery of a lyric is all emotion and no logic. If he seems to act unkind, it’s only him, it’s not his mind. Okay, Fishboy. Good thing the track is compellingly lovely and utterly relatable. Which suits the Pisces life exactly: ‘I don’t know what I mean, but it’s exceedingly beautiful and I want you to share it with you very, very much.’

#zodiac #beatles

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idris-hunts-the-mando · 3 years

Text

Right place, Right time \the departure pt.1/

Rating: Mature

Words: 6.1k

A/N: this took me the bulk of a week to complete, i think ill make a few small bite sized works for a while, working on the next part in a week or so, once i get myself back together. give me all the love you as a reader can, I’m fueled by praise/hj

pairings: none yet

Warnings: series typical violence, hard swearing, moderate gore

I woke up sore and hurt in the bunk room, the cold cot felt like frozen river stones under my tired bones. I could tell we arrived at our destination from the frostbite settling into my fingers and nose. The slow neutral hum of machinery was a tell tale sign that the ship was at ease, the noise usually deafening. Pulling my threadbare scarf up over my neck and chin, i started regretting choosing this particular cargo ship going to a frozen planet for a runaway plan. I braced for the aggravating beginning to the tiresome day and sat up from my cramped bunk space. sleeping in a room with a dozen oily work worn men didnt make any part of the trip to Maldo Keris easier, not to mention the fact they all saw me as more of a womp rat and less of a sentient being. keeping my eyes to myself, i shoved my tattered boots over my feet buckled my tool belt to my hip and hurried out of the barracks before the bulk of my crew mates woke up. stepping out onto the loading dock,i took a breath in. the smell of poorly filtered air irked my mechanics brain. It would be such an easy fix if they payed me to care. But alas, for this particular voyage, i was bunked out like a stowaway, giving in return my fix-it help around deck for passage off my planet of origin. Sighing out the musty air, i checked my stations. Navigating the hold was like a womp rat through a maze, you had to be rather nimble and graceful to get through the makeshift corridors without issue. Unluckily for me, I was neither nimble nor graceful. When i got to the panel, i took out my key ring and unlocked the rusted metal door to expose the intricacies within. the wiring looked tip top shape, but the fuel lines needed a bit more attention than the other tangle of electronics, so i took out my multi-tool to tighten the fittings. The liquid distilled Rhydonium that flowed through these particular lines was a less explosive substance than its pure form, but dangerous nonetheless. the multi-tool was a newer model, so it didn't fit this type of bolt all the way, but it was better than nothing. Better than allowing it to loosen over another voyage and have the ship explode mid hyper-speed.

My mind was so stuck in its own world, the training I had over the many years in a scrappers shop spewing all of its knowings about rhydonium and fuel lines that I didn't have time to notice the first lieutenant Maegs stalking his way over to me. I jumped a moment before he spoke, tightening the last half inch of the bolt down maybe a bit too aggressively.

"We the captains crew appreciate the helping you've been do'en for this ol beasty of a ship," he mentioned, one his independent eyes viewed me separably, while the second one was monitoring my work. I froze for a moment out of fear, but i didn't think he took notice. "You're more than welcome to stick 'round 'an see what else you can fix up for this rust-bucket." the first lieutenant never gave me much of a hard time, unlike most of the crew. But I had made up my mind the first night in hyperspace that I would haul ass out of this suffocating ship as soon as a habitable planet was spotted. I finished up closing and locking the wires box, shaking my head slowly and turning to face him.

"I do love the sentiment, lieutenant. but maybe another time if our paths cross again." I forced an obligatory smile, avoiding making eye contact with him at all costs out of fear for not having the attention span to pick and stick to a wondering eye. If i could ever force myself to say something nice about the ship and its crew, it would be the acceptance of short interactions. A conversation rarely surpassed the 'how are you doing today' phase, by the moons it never got to that phase in the first place. And I was a person of not many words, and not much of a filter.

Maegs nodded slowly, clasping two of his 4 arms behind his back and turning away. I felt the need to repay his unprompted kindness with some suggestions for the ship before I left it for good. Call me sentimental, but this ship, albeit mostly composed of literal blood sweat and spit, was my ticket into a new life. "don't let yourself get caught without changing the air filtration system, them new republic scouters are picky about what type of poison you use for cremates." I remark with a little smirk. Maegs paused, narrowing his eyes, amused by the backhanded remark. He had surely gotten complaints about the smell before. He gave a thoughtful nod toward me, and allowed himself a small smile. I looked down in my hands, the key ring still hanging off my index finger. I tossed it towards him and was relieved when he caught it. he turned with no further words needed. On his way to the control room, he pushed the cargo bay door release button. My line of sight was clear from the opening door to the nearby port town and when the frosty air stung my face, I knew in my soul that this was a good thing. Taking in a breath of the salted frozen air, my body naturally recoiled. I'm not one for cold. 'Ah well, way to go picking the nearest ice planet than idiot' I scolded myself, pulling my cloak back over my shoulders to take the first step out of the ship held together with sticker line and bantha spit. 'Good riddance'.

Walking into town was harder than expected, the ice on the ground blended into the ice of the horizon, making spacial reasoning a thing of the past. The only anchor I had to the planet besides its heavy gravity was the stark grey buildings stapled to the sheets of ice about 10 meters in front of me. I never could have guessed the sky of Maldo Keris could get any uglier, but planets like these have a way of surprising a person. I tucked my hair and ears away with the hood of my raggedy travelers cloak, bracing myself from the heavy winds by retreating further and further into my cloths. I stayed on the worn path from the ship's dock port, hearing from previous crew mates that this was the warm season, that the ice was thinner and the creatures lurking underneath had no sense of remorse. Now nervous at the revival of that pleasant memory, I kept a close eye on my surroundings, not having the most faith in my feet for staying their course. The wind stung at my exposed skin, reminding me I was wearing only my work cloths that weren't meant for the sudden change in climate. The cloak I had was best at protecting my human skin from the suns above. Beyond that, my tatterd outer layer didn't do much for the safeguarding of my body heat.

I was relieved to have stumbled to shade from the wind so quickly, the heavy kit bag on my back was starting to feel more like a boulder taped to my body than a simple means of containing my tools and spare cloths. Paying attention to the signs overhead, i quickly located the nearest cantina and rushed towards it as fast as any human Popsicle can. Opening the circular doors with the press of a button took me into what felt like a summer time resort. Hiding my appreciation for the warmth from the patrons staring at me, i collected my composure and swiftly found an open table. The electronic doors closed rather harshly behind me. I recognized the sound of faulty pressure hinge and eyed the door for a moment when i took my seat. That door was a danger to customers who get caught in it, it could cause some serious injuries for larger species and even fatalities for humanoids.

Sitting down at the frosty old wooden chair was a relief on the fatigue in my joints. It was neither a comfortable seat, nor a relatively stable one, but it gave me time to take off my pack and study the small, rather ugly, room I found myself to be in. It wasn't too long before I would have to order something, or I feared starvation. The crew mates on the cargo ship were kind, if the bare minimum counts. Food once a day (as per average in the parsec), and as much sleep as necessary per species or race. For humans in particular, that amount of time was annoyingly low. tired and hungry was a bad mix for me as it is, but add cold to that mixture, and the first person to get on my nerves would be the last. i checked the contents of my bag to make sure everything looked as it should and moved up from my chair, replacing the spot with my hefty bag. I was rather confident that if any Kung Nerfhearder tried to run off with it, it would be too weighted for them to get far. I may be rather small compared to other sub species of humans, but i pride myself on my strength often.

Making my way to the bar counter, I lean up between two silent patrons sitting a few seats away from each-other. I get the barkeep's attention with a wave of my fingers, calling him to me. "What kind of meal do you have on the stove top right now?" I ask with my flattest low tone. In port towns like this its important to be as emotionless as possible in order to not draw attention to yourself. Colorless, shapeless, uniform and mad was always the role you had to play to make it through the galaxy.

"We got a silver weed in the radiator, it'll be 3 credits." He replied, picking up a glass and wiping it out with his rag covered hand. I pulled the amount needed out of my pocket and set it down on the bar counter. he swiped his hand over the credits, picking them up quickly. nodding, he left the sight of the bar for only a spit second before returning to the table with a small bowl of mush. I tried my best to smile and be thankful for the meal, but as the bowl transferred to my hands I had to focus on not gagging. I hurried back to my private table in the corner and settled back into my seat, dropping my bag on the floor between my legs to keep it as safe as possible. The last thing I want is a soup that tastes like the scrapings of a persons shoe into street worn snow, but what can you expect on a planet such as this. Prodding the gelatinous mass in the bowl with my spoon, I ponder the ever growing question of 'what in the hell is in this shit'. my mind wonders deep into its personal wonderland while my environment continues to be less and less favorable.

Hostile voices from the other side of the cantina rise louder and louder, as if at the warm up stage of a slowly progressing screaming match. The feeling of sourness in my heart rose with a predictable inclination. The tension in the air grows as yet again the same scene unfolds before my and all other patrons of the cantina's eyes. I strain my neck to see what was happening. At the far end of the room, closer to the door than I am, I saw the oddly familiar face of a poor amphibious creature's head being slammed on the table he was sitting at. The oldest and most primal of situations, the strong picking on the weak. Three tall imposing figures towered over the poor humanoid looking fellow who was obvious to any idiot to be lacking in intimidating features. Seeing this obligatory show of power for any insecure creature with anger issues never sat right with me. It reminded me too much of where I came from, the slums of sand and glass where bullies like these were treated like royalty without challenge from the ones they harassed.

'Dank ferrik, don't do it' i challenged the assaulter internally, as if pleading with them to harm their victim any more so I would have a reason to put in use my blade skills. i had no idea where I've seen that face before, but as they say, curiosity killed the Cathar. And there it happened, the final action in the escalation. The largest of the assaulter lifted the poor guy to his feet and the ring leader lifted his knife to the throat of his victim. A cry of anguish and fear came from the poor fool being restrained, and that was my last straw.

I stood from my chair, kicking away my bag and drawing my vibroblade from my thigh holster, walking over to the group across the tavern. I growl, squaring my shoulders and stiffening my legs to make me seem bigger. I must have looked pretty wild, my tattered cloak drawn over my body like a dark fog, and my scarf still pulled up like a mask over my nose with only my furious green eyes over the top. Just as I started my warpath towards the men, the heavy ring shaped door to the cantina opened abruptly, startling a few of the onlookers. I knew what type of situation I had put myself in and how important focus and intimidation was, so I didn't take any time away from the assholes with blades to gawk at who had happened to stroll in. With my attention solely married to the poor bastard and his assailants, I noticed all of their attention was stripped from their target and glued to the newcomer. Evaluating my surroundings, I saw most of the other patrons in my sight were enthralled too. This piqued my interest and I felt it safe enough to turn and check out the royalty.

Standing soberly at the bar counter, the figure of a mandolorian stood in silence, facing the bar keep. My heart dropped first, than my jaw. Only legend, only in the oldest fables and the scary stories my nan would use to scare me into not stealing the sweets late at night, had I ever heard of the likes of him. from the bescar armor forged in the heart of a black flame forge (or so i've been told) to the galaxy known creed of mandalore, this being was the stuff of leadgeneds. To be feared and adorned wherever they so chose to walk. but not anymore. Not since the planet turned to glass a hundred years ago, destroying much of what was known of the infamous warriors.

I don't think the aggressors saw me and the dangerous piece of weaponry clasped in my hand, instead they looked drunkenly amused at the new patron, like sly cats with a new toy. surveying his surroundings, the warrior's expressionless visor swept the room. He inspected the threat levels of the patrons, the bullies, the amphibious humanoid sucker that was caught under it all. The mandolorian made no comment as he momentarily swept over me, with my clenched fist around the vibroblade. Rather he ignored me entirely, leaning against the bar counter and staring absentmindedly at the wall ahead of him. The scum saw this as an odd mandolorian intimidation tactic and took it to heart, growling a string of multilingual insults. I couldn't quite understand all the words from their chosen dialect, but something about a drink spilling and how it was somehow the mando's fault.

when they didn't get a response, they snorted, puffing their chest out and stalking towards the armored newcomer. Continuing to talk in another language I didn't understand fully, the bar keep attempted to translate, feeling the tensions rise in the air. "He says you spilled his drink." a moment of silence, with the smell of anger wafting from the half intoxicated bantha shaggers, And the barman attempted to diffuse the situation by offering the men drinks to hopefully get them to settle down. And by the two suns it did not. The drink slid from the barkeep's hand and down the table. The mandolorian took it out of its trajectory and started the assault, smashing the creature's head on the counter to his right and simultaneously twisting the louder man on his left arm until the knife in his hand stabbed himself in the ass. As the third attempted to run out the front door, mando caught him with his grappling wire and pulled him back. The tangled creature got his blaster from a thigh holder and shot a round at his would-be captor. The blaster fire ricochet off the bescar Armour, bringing the mando's attention to his own firearm. With the tangled assaulter in the right position, mando fired a single shot at the door of the cantina, Forcing the wiring to go into hyperactive shut down, closing the doors around the alien. The doors struggled for a moment, and so did the thing caught in it, but nothing stopped the metal and electricity from slicing through the meat of its body. The legs of the now dead man fell to the ground at the door with a sickening thump.

After this, the silence in the room was so thick you could swing at it with a hatchet and not make a dent in the shock factor. unsurprisingly enough, every patron went back to their own businesses with each other as if nothing had happened. A pair sitting at a table close to the door went swiftly to the half body to move it away to continue the flow of traffic as they then scurried out the doors, carrying the top half between them. Scavengers i bet, black market womp rats' i thought, sighing at how quickly the circle of life can flash before your eyes. death isn't something to be dewlled on in a universe like this, now back to the issue at hand.

recollection hit me like a half ton of bricks when I remembered where I saw the face of the teal looking bastard with a knife previously on his neck. Spite flooded in my blood as I narrowed my eyes at my next target, shoving my vibroblade back in my thigh holster aggressively and stomping towards the useless excuse of flesh. "You're a dead man now, Mythrol." I said to myself. he must have heard me, or possibly sensed all the rage walking swiftly at him. His eyes upturned towards me, full of fear, but I now remember there is an ugly smugness to him too. I made it to the table, putting my hands down in front of him, leaning my top body weight on my palms. "You better have a divine excuse for not meeting me at that port you Druk Nerfhearder, or you'll be seeing the wrong side of the ice ocean outside in 30 seconds." I could barely contain my frustration with this sniveling worm, he was the reason i had to bunk with the disgusting oiled engineers for a week in hyperspace. The reason I had only 12 credits in my tech vault and less than that on hand. He scammed me out of a decent ride and my entire years savings. It was a genuine miracle how well I kept myself from not leaping over the table he sat at and giving him a new meaning to crazy bitch.

"H-hey, hey you, long time no see huh, man am I sorry for missing out on that meting we had that one time, sorry pal I kinda slept in-" but before he could make up any more exuces, any more lies, my vibroblade was at his throat right where the other man's was just a moment ago. He hissed and recoiled back in his seat, opening and closing his mouth a few times, trying to breathe, to speak. whichever it was, it wouldn't matter soon. He had talked enough in his lifetime to anger hundreds of poor victims throughout the parsec, letting him one last word would be a dishonor to all of them.

Before I could press the blade into his flesh, a firm leather covered hand wrapped around my forearm, pulling it away carefully. I looked at the arm, attached to it was a shoulder, and atop the shoulder sat a gleaming bescar helmet. I felt my heart sink into the depths of my stomach, the anger switching places with feral panic that I tried my absolute best to contain. No words came from the mandolorian, a simple shake of his head was all i got. he loosened the grip on my arm, letting it recall back to my center of gravity.Ii looked down at the arm, looking for any obvious signs of damage, but his grip was closer to gentle and firm than harsh. A soft metallic thud brought my attention to the table, where the mando has tossed a puck. A bounty puck. Today was certainly a day for emotions, because T felt as pleased as a jawa coming across the flashing screen of Mythrol's face on the holographic screen projected by the puck. Mytrol looked between me and the mandolorian a few times before painting his face with a fake smile, the wheels in his head turning into overdrive trying to make a lie up to get himself out of this one. "Is that me?" he questioned, the forced denial barely hiding the fear in his eyes. "Aw come on, I can pay you more than that pitiful bounty, a whole new cruiser," he pleaded, bargaining for his life. "on me, waddaya say."

The mandolorian doesn't waste a breath to reply, his electronically filtered voice filling the getting-to-be awkward silence. "I can take you in warm." he placed a hand on his hip holster, bringing attention to the deadly gun strapped in it. "Or I can bring you in cold." Mythroll's face turned pale with fear, looking like a sort of pale blue spirit. Gulping down what could have been vomit, or another plea for life, he couldn't move at all, just staring at the mandolorian's unfeeling visor.

The mandolorian slaps restraints on mythrol's wrists, pulling him up and out of his chair in one swift motion, the disparaged lump following along with his hands bound together. He seemed resigned to his fate as he was pulled out of the cantina, leaving in his wake and eruption of whispers and a few sobs of relief from the clientele of the bar. I myself was in a state of shock by what had happened and the intense speed at which it had occurred, Standing in front of a table with drops of blood on it not knowing what to do next. Mythrol had cheated me out of a lot of money, and he was just walking away, atoning for crimes he didn't commit against me. that in and of itself felt somewhat fair, fair to any of the galaxy he had screwed over so far.

My body flew back to my table mostly on its own, smashing into the chair at which I had just been sitting less than a minute ago. I hauled my ridiculously large bag over one shoulder, the extra strap free in the wind. I knew i had to at least try. for myself. Running back to the door panel where the halfed creature had met his end, I slammed the controls urgently, opening the door back out to the wild wind of Maldo Keris. Scanning the nearby environment was hard without protective goggles to shield me from the dust and yuck in the wind, but I spotted a pair of hulking figures 15 yards from the cantina, moving at a steady pace away. Try for me, I can do this one thing for myself. I sprinted as fast as I could with the pack over one shoulder, making me surely look like some sort of lame bantha to any possible onlookers. "Wait! wait please!" I called out to the mandolorian, my tone accidentally becoming demanding, but I think that helped to get the mandolorian's attention. They stopped and Mythrol looked at the mando, as if he was pleading to get him away from me in fear I had came back just to fight a mandolorinan for a chance to stab him again. As tantalizing as that thought was, the actions I were taking were purely selfish. I deserve justice just as much as any poor sap sad enough to cross paths with the scamming womp rat or the mystery person who called for the bounty.

"Please let me come with you for when you collect his bounty." I asked somberly, stopping my chase a few paces away from the pair standing together. "I swear I wont take the credits from you, I just want to see him pay for what he's done." Tiny beads of sweat pearled at my brow, my breath was labored in my throat. Even walking with my bag was hard, but I had just chased down a bounty hunter and his captive. Strands of my hair stuck to my forehead and I wiped them away with the back of my forearm once they crept into my eyes.

Mytrhol had to get his two cents in of course, holding the bounty hunter by the cape and making his eyes go wide with worry. "I don't know who this person is, don't let them come along, they could try to hurt me!" He plead, tugging on the cape like a whiny child. Now the anger came back, a cold rage in my fists, ready to start brutalizing someone at the drop of a pin. I narrowed my eyes at Mythrol, who didst bother to return the look. the mandolorian stared for a moment, looking off behind me in thought. The worry then set in, a fear whispered in the back of my skull 'You'll never get your closure and die alone on this hell planet.' My eyes went to the obsidian visor of the mando, creasing my brows together, subconsciously chewing on my lip as he made his decision. Loosening his shoulders, he slumped his head downward, as if morally defeated. I was taken aback by the conflict he was having about weather or not to let a weird stranger aboard his ship or not. oddly enough I understood his seeming frustration, I wouldn't let me go if I were him. He picked his head up after a second, looking me up and down as if to study me entirely. I felt eyes over my body, it was weirdly intimate. When he made his way back up to my eyes, he stood in silence for a moment before asking. "Do you have any weapons on you besides the blade?"

Certainly a different question than what I thought was going to be asked, so for the answer, I had to think about it for a moment, mentally going through my bag and person. "n, no. I have my vibroblade. and a sack full of my electrician's tools, but they arn't traditional weapons." I responded earnestly, my tone going flat again. Another moment of silence, Mythrol looking quickly between the bounty hunter and myself.

"If you truly wish to see the bounty delivered, I can take you to the trade. In exchange for the ride there, my ship needs mild internal repairs. If you try to cross me," He paused, a hand went to his blaster as a warning. A flashback to the cantina entered my forethought, the image of his hand on his blaster the same way as it was now moments before a man got cut in half. The warning was received properly, I felt thoroughly intimidated. "You'll be dead before you could pray to any gods." damn. That was intense. thoroughly intimidated, to the core. i took a breath in, almost allowing myself time to rethink my request in its entirity. but i responded with a quick nod. I knew my way around most ship interiors, if the ship wasn't rusted and breaking in half on take off, i knew i'd be able to mend it.

The mandolorian gave no other word to me and turned, walking towards the ice flats docking crew. I allowed myself a cheeky smirk, fulfillment at the succession in my pursuit gave my heart a good warm squeeze. Following along behind the mandoloian a pace, he negotiated with the docking crew, asking oddly enough for a live pilot, not a droid. Some harmonic whistling came from the ferryman, hailing over a rust bucket of a speeder. As the speeder came to a stop to collect its haul, rusted pieces of under backing fell from the rear, clanking to the ice annoyingly. We all loaded into the speeder, I sat in front with the driver, the mando and his bounty in the back, a gloved hand around Mythrol's bicep at all times. We reached out frozen destination, the driver of the speeder calling one last warning to the three of us after collecting his dues and puttering off towards the port.

I took a moment to asses the hull of the razor crest, it wasn't too bad for a pre new republic vessel. Some battle scars here and there around the landing gear, a charred blaster fire mark on the windows of the cockpit. This was truly the ship of a bounty hunter. Turning to follow the speeder's course, I couldn't help but feel a deep unease, he had warned about the ice planet's personal creature of death, Ravanack. Just then, the entire rusty hull of the speeder and its driver were swallowed whole in a single angry bite. The ravanack retreated back into the ice just as Mythroll let out a girlish scream of terror. He booked it twords the mandolorian who was opening the hatch to the belly of his ship, screaming for dear life to let him in. The ice where the speeder was swallowed started cracking in the direction of the ship, very quickly speeding directly at Mythrol.

My instincts kicked in and I hopped out of the way, swinging myself onto the floor of the cargo hold of the ship with the momentum of my bag. Just as i got out of harms way, the mandolorian swung himself out of the ship to grab the petrified blue idiot only moments before the jaws of his early death lunged out of the ice, driving sickeningly deep into the landing gear of the razor crest. I winced at the damage done, scrambling back away from the flying Mythroll the mando had haphazardly chucked at me. The mandolorian seemed to ignore me entirely, herding his bounty into the cockpit with him. As the engines revved and the propellers blasted their heat down towards the ice at max capacity, the beast clung tightly to its prey of metal and paint, determined wholeheartedly to bring the ship down to its frigid death. The mando hopped down the ladder, rushing to the cargo bay door with his riffle. he stabbed the bayonet into the beast's head, sending a current of electricity into its skull. the beast roared furiously, releasing the ship and sinking back into the inky ocean.

I collected myself and scrambled up off the floor. the cargo bay doors closed quickly, leaving the mandolorian and myself in the ambient humming of the bay. His breast plate rose and fell, getting less an less noticeable as he calmed down. turning towards me. He nodded at a upturned metal basket with a weather worn blanket tossed over it. I took the hint and put my bag on top of the makeshift stool, retrieving from it my more universal tools. Going from one job to another wasn't my ideal, but this was a more opportunistic adventure. My original goal was only ever to get off the sun bitten planet i was from, beyond that was up to fate, and I can't really complain about where it took me today. Now i'm headed to gods know where with a mandolorian and his bounty who single-handedly ruined the last year and a half's hard work I had done. turning my head towards the mandolorian, I saw him stand in the hallway between the cargo bay and the cockpit, eyeing his bounty.

Words hung on the end of my tongue, ready to ask millions of questions out of pure adrenaline fueled thrill. But I stopped myself from spilling over, taking notice of the details in the mando's body for the first time. For the most feared warrior in the galaxy, this man looked as any other bounty hunter. His armor was chipped and dented, highlighting the flaws in the outer most shell of himself. A deep rooted curiosity took roots just then, desiring to know more of what laid under his iron and bescar plates. "Where should I start working first?" I asked as politely as possible. feeling a need to use respective words when in the presence of a man who just stabbed a water beast in the head. This got his attention away from the bounty if only for a moment. He paused for a second, going through the archives of his mind to see where needed the most urgent attention. Turning 180 degrees, he lifted a gloved hand to point at the panel of buttons and levers at the end of the metal room. It looked mostly in tact, but only mostly. There was blaster char at the center of the damage, near the bottom left hand corner of the panel itself. "Yikes." I whispered mostly to myself, reaching in my bag for a clean oil rag. Acknowledging the mandolrian's request with a glance and half nod, I got to work at the station. It looked to be the control panel for the gun hold under the main cargo bay. The possible stories tied with the maiming of this piece of equipment swarmed my mind, finding my own way of theorizing any number of adventurous tales.

A few minutes go by, tweaking the damaged area as best I could to fit my hands into the circuitry. Mythroll passed by quickly, entering the open door of the munitions hold to the ladder down. I got nervous for a moment, than I heard him calling back to the mandolorian pilot, talking about molting and stellar seasons. What an odd being. Slimy thieving nerfhearder. Going back to work, not questioning the reasons tmythroll went down there. so wrapped up, figuratively and literally, in the wires of the control panel, i hadn't noticed mando sneaking past me, silent as death. I hadn't noticed him, that is, until I heard the thumping and crashing of combat and the pitiful yelps of the bounty rise to draw my attention toward the lower hold. Mythroll's shout cut short with an angry metallic hiss. The fear now taking a hold of my stomach, I pulled my hand out of the tangle to look nervously down the ladder, seeing the mando start his ascent. "carbon freezing." he said simply. I know his intention was to explain what had just happen in hopes to ease my worry, but no. it worried me more. Drawing my thought to the intense reality that I was willingly trapped on the ship of a proven dangerous bounty hunter. I felt rather idiotic in that moment, the crushing weight of the situation bringing me to a moral defeat. The mando slid by me, his body language more casual than it should have been seeing as how he had just half killed someone in the hold of his ship. He paused momentarily, looking over my work. nodding, He left in silence, returning to the cockpit.

After a second, I gathered my thoughts and took a deep breath into my lungs. The reality of my life now was flipped upside down and tossed into a spinning vortex of crazy, but I know my strengths. I know myself and what i can handle. This? was obviously odd and scary and new, but the skills I cary can get me far. Exhaling, I focused my mind at the task at hand. Knowing my entire world was going to be changing from here on out was more calming than expected. The determination I felt towards my own new chapter of life soothed my aching back and fried nerves. This was going to be epic.

A/N: i'm so glad to have finally finished this, holy hell ;-;

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