#this did start off bitter and angry at the game but just ended up kind of like. sadly upset at what was done with her
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how much does sonia matter to the story of totk
sonia... is certainly a character in totk, but right now i want to take a look at her appearances within the story and see just how much of an effect she actually has on the narrative of this game. i will only be looking at memories and actual story beats, things such as those floating tablets (idk what they're called i never bothered with them) will be omitted because they are entirely optional content and have nothing to do with the actual story, i'm only considering the memories and present events that most players intending to experience the full base story will see. (i'm not even sure if the floating tablets have anything story-relevant in them, anyways, from what ive seen its just world-building and little character moments.)
it's worth noting that i do like sonia, and i don't particularly think she's a bad character; i enjoyed her, but it's questionable just how relevant as a character she is to the story. i also have a generally negative opinion of totk and its story, so that might alter the way i think about this game and it's story. feel free to take what i say here with a grain or two of salt.
spoilers for a fair bit of totk ig
(post is extremely long yknow how it is 2,581 words under the cut)
sonia is definitely present for the story in the past; she is a comforting presence for zelda and a supporter of rauru. she has power over time (recall, i suppose), and is the queen of the hyrule that rauru has founded, and was formerly a priestess before meeting rauru.
before really starting, i want to bring up that the first time the public got to see sonia was in the 3rd trailer; specifically it is where memory 6 is edited, specifically making it appear that sonia, with her hand outstretched and glowing, is the one therefore shooting the beam of light in the very next cut. in reality, in the actual scene, rauru is the one shooting that beam, but i want to keep this specific edit made in the final trailer in mind, since i want to talk a little bit more about sonia's presence in the story in general at the end, because, again, i personally like her, and am admittedly frustrated with how the game and its story ends up using her.
i consider a character to matter to a story when they do something that impacts or helps move it along. for example, despite being very non-characters, i would consider the old sages to be important as they provide exposition directly to link and the new sage as well as bestow upon them their blessing and their secret stone. they have some kind of effect on the story and other characters and carry out a specific role. if you erased the old sages, you would be missing characters that provide more information to the new sages and properly mark them as their successors in the present. even though they aren't really fleshed out in any sort of way, the old sages play an important role in the central plot of the story. the story needed them to play their specific role in order for the game to progress and for the narrative to continue as intended. they do something to shape the path that the narrative takes, they have an effect.
sonia is a character who technically only ever appears in the memories. i'm completely ignoring her appearing after the final boss simply because she has no dialogue at all and its really nebulous what she and rauru even do. worth noting that she is not alone in that scene; rauru is present with her.
sonia is introduced in memory 3 and then is killed in memory 9, i'm also ignoring her, uh, cadaver in memory 10 for obvious reasons. sonia is therefore active in the world of the past for 7 memories out of the total 15 that take place in the past. sonia is alive for less than half of the memories. furthermore, of those 7, sonia only actually appears in 6 of them, memories 3, 4, 6, 7, 8, and 9, and has dialogue in memories 3, 4, 8, and 9, barely over a fourth of those memories.
noting when she appears and when she speaks is important, since because of the fragmented nature of the past memories, character dialogue is very important in knowing what they do and what information they impart. sonia has a purpose in the memories where she doesn't speak, but i'll get to those after looking at the ones where she does speak.
what sonia does in memory 3: she is the first to approach zelda and her touch is what wakes zelda up. sonia is much gentler with zelda, giving her her name and reassuring her that she is safe.
what sonia does in memory 4: she's mentioned by rauru to have a secret stone and likely used as the example of a secret stone holder due to her own time powers. sonia is the one who says that zelda has both light and time powers, and also says that she can also somehow tell that she and zelda and blood related. sonia nudges rauru for (i think) being a bit cold, and is once again the one to comfort zelda and provides her with a place in the past. she is gentle and patient with zelda.
what sonia does in memory 6: she has no dialogue, but is present to... i'm not sure what she and zelda do here, but i'll say that sonia is supporting rauru's magic with her own. she prompts zelda to join her, and reacts to zelda's magic, telling us that zelda is unusually powerful by comparison.
what sonia does in memory 7: she does absolutely nothing other than be specifically noted by ganondorf for having a secret stone as well as being a hylian woman that rauru took as his wife, and smiles comfortingly at zelda.
what sonia does in memory 8: she recalls a cup that zelda knocks over (the only the we see her use time powers), inquires about zelda's well-being, gives an explanation on how zelda could learn to use her time powers (as well as this being somewhat of an explanation of how recall generally works?), shes comforting again and brings up zelda's light powers, and is the one to bring up link.
what sonia does in memory 9: before the memory, she agrees to meet with the fake zelda (knowing that it is truly not zelda) and clearly planned with the real zelda to confront it. she is the one to point out that the fake zelda is... fake, and controlled by ganondorf, and then is killed after fake zelda disappears.
sonia, from then on, is not present in any future memories, and only ever makes an appearance in the present at the very end with rauru.
so. how much does sonia matter to the story?
she definitely matters as a supporter of zelda and as the one to truly help her feel comfortable in the past and gives guidance about her powers. she's the queen of this ancient hyrule and rauru's wife and a holder of a secret stone. these have relevancy to the narrative, but they don't mean anything in the long run unless they actually effect the plot. she supports zelda, but it doesn't really change anything major, just helps her feel comfortable until things come crashing down again. she helps zelda harness her time powers, which we really only see zelda use against ganondorf and presumably to collect the master sword (and considering that her time powers never show up again, i guess zelda transfers them to link), but zelda is already shown to have great power from the start, and we never actually see zelda training or even struggling to use those powers, she just talks about not quite understanding them, and the first time she uses them she clearly has great control.
sonia conveys the information that zelda has time and light powers, and that zelda is related to sonia and rauru, both of which are fairly important, but sonia saying zelda has these powers merely spells it out for us, it doesn't affect anything about those powers, and zelda being related to sonia and rauru does nothing except explain the origins of her powers. she brings up link in front of rauru, but rauru could've easily learned about link any other way, most notably from zelda herself, so sonia bringing this up just changes when rauru learns about link.
through memory 6 we learn that zelda is, in fact, especially powerful specifically because she is being compared to sonia, who expresses surprise, though, again, this changes nothing, it merely brings attention to something already present.
sonia is suggested to have caught on to the fake zelda's ploy and we can assume that she had a hand in setting up the 'trap' that she and zelda spring on it. she implies that she, while knowing, agreed to meet with it and set this trap with zelda. after fake zelda disappears, she is then killed and removed from the story, though her death motivates zelda and rauru and marks the shift from a tense peace to outright war with ganondorf, and her death is what allows ganondorf to get his hands on a secret stone.
in a sense, sonia does matter to the story. she conveys information for the player and for other characters' benefits, she is an important person in the world of the past, and her death is a major turning point. but... at the same time, sonia does not really matter to the story.
she conveys information that doesn't really change the course of the story. her biggest decided-upon action was done off screen and with supposed help from zelda (and perhaps even rauru) and the biggest impact she makes, the one thing concerning her that actually causes things to move along or change in the course of the story, is her death. a character's death doesnt necessarily mean that from then on they are no longer important to the story, but with sonia, she is completely out of the picture. she motivates zelda and rauru, yes, but that's not exactly the same as mattering to the story. either way, if ganondorf declares war after stealing a secret stone, zelda and rauru are going to fight back with the sages.
sonia's death matters to the story. sonia herself does not matter to the story.
sonia doesn't do anything. she talks, conveys information, comforts zelda and gives her little pointers, but not once do we see her do anything that matters in the greater narrative. nothing she does in the past has any relevancy to the gameplay the players experience, or the side of the story that concerns link. she doesn't play a role that further aids our protagonists asides from maybe helping zelda learn to use her time powers. any information she conveys could have been learned through other means, or otherwise wasn't actually important to the events of the plot.
the most we really see her do is lure out fake zelda, but even then, zelda is the one to actually act in retaliation of the attack, and the most sonia does in that one scene, aside from convey more information, is die. and it's the only thing she does that actually causes a development in the plot or matters in general.
in addition to this, sonia does not do anything alone. she is always related to another character: she comforts zelda, she's rauru's wife and queen, ganondorf kills her, she and zelda corner fake zelda, she supports zelda and rauru. nothing she does she does on her own, there is always another character involved, she plays an extremely supportive role and does absolutely nothing outside of that. she exists to give the players information, she exists to support and motivate zelda and rauru, she exists as a character for ganondorf to kill to prove his evil and steal a secret stone. she is not an independent character within totk's story. she doesn't matter to the story as a character because she is barely even considered an independent character within that story.
when we see her at the end, the one time she is relevant to the present, she appears with rauru.
you could remove sonia from the story and swap her out with just having her secret stone hanging around the castle somewhere and the major events of the story would not change. sonia being the queen and rauru's wife only matters because then her death can motivate rauru, and by extension, the kingdom. sonia being so tender with zelda only matters because then her death motivates zelda. sonia having time powers and being related to zelda only matters to explain why zelda has time powers at all. these qualities do not matter outside of these characters that she is always shown with. the only thing about sonia that matters to the narrative is her death.
and. i don't dislike sonia! i like her! i think she's a good character, she has a personality and manages to be likeable even though she is always attached to a separate character! but she has no effect on the present and doesn't do anything that is relevant to any plot points. and it's so frustrating to see!
she's a major character in the past, and yet is hardly important, has four scenes total where she speaks, and dying is the most important thing we ever see her do. the only effect she has on the present is that the secret stone that ganondorf has was stolen directly from her.
it's just... frustrating to see yet another female character exist mostly just to die and motivate other characters, to see a major female character's only defining traits be that she is kind and nurturing and motherly and you never see anything beyond that.
and i come back to the game's third trailer.
just with the fact that sonia is shoved in a corner and is yet another female character that does not exist independent of others in this story, that we see her use her unique power exactly once to rewind a teacup, that's enough to frustrate me. sonia could've been a much more important and impactful character, but the most important thing concerning her is her death, and not even in a 'haunts the narrative' kind of way- she dies, motivates others, and is never brought up again.
and yet, in the third trailer of the game, memory 6 is cut up and presented in such a way that implies this at-the-time mystery female character had shot that beam of light, and that she would therefore be a powerful character. nothing is done without a reason in fiction, and this applies to game trailers.
i just don't understand why sonia was framed in such a deceitful way in that trailer. i can understand misdirection for the sake of avoiding spoilers, but... when it comes to characters like sonia, who in reality have very little impact on the narrative in this way, it just feels... almost a little devious, and it's so frustrating to watch that part of the trailer that teased a powerful female character (not a new concept for the zelda series, either!!!) and then, when the game rolls around, all of a sudden not only is she not the one with that power, but she is merely supporting the male character with that power.
there's absolutely a whole thing that can be said about female versus male characters in media and video games just with contrasting that part of the third trailer versus the actual in-game scene.
and i just can't help but feel bad for sonia after all of this, a character who could've been an important figure in totk's narrative, who just ended up being a character defined by the moment they stop being relevant.
so... yeah. sonia doesn't really matter to the story of totk, and it's in a really frustrating way. though i have a generally negative and almost spiteful attitude towards totk, none of that spite or anger is directed at sonia- i really wish she had a better role in the story, and i think she honestly deserves it and i don't think anyone is at fault for being fooling into thinking she would be this important and powerful figure. there's serious potential just with the pieces the story does give us! it's just all squandered to make her exist for the sake of other characters.
this might've gotten a bit off-track from that i wanted to say at the start, but... unfortunately, sonia as a character doesn't really matter to the story of totk, and i really wish that she did.
#loz#legend of zelda#totk#sonia#totk critical#salty talks#fyi while i just skimmed the yt vid to see what memories sonia shows up in i just watched in 2x speed to figure out if she talks#so it was just kinda really funny despite a lot of the memories being just standing around talking#do yourself a favor and watch the cutscenes on 2x speed#i watched them in 2x speed bc i dont want to waste too much time on this fucking game but it was at least entertaining#imo sonia got done so dirty in this game. its the only one she exists in too which sucks even more#like when zelda/tetra gets fridged or whatever its like. we see her in other contexts at least but with sonia thats it. damn#this did start off bitter and angry at the game but just ended up kind of like. sadly upset at what was done with her#bitching abt totk#adding that one so this gets lumped in with my other totk salt posts but this one def has a different tone#off topic but man zelda having time powers was some bullshit that only mattered in the past and to give the play a rewind toy#and to allow for some plot stuff obviously. sonias fucking powers are more important than sonia is
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Writing Patterns Tag Game
thanks to @cr-noble-writes for the prompt!
Rules: list the first line(s) of your last 10 posted fics and see if there's a pattern!
True Blue
Garrus didn’t know why he couldn’t stop banging his head against the wall trying to nail down the Saren case. Everyone was telling him to give it up, calling it an impossible task, and he was just about starting to believe them. His career was hanging on this; the next few days were the most important of his life.
So, really, he should’ve expected her to show up. She always did when something big was about to happen.
2. Life Behind Enemy Lines
“Commander Farvardin,” said the man at the other end of the galaxy, drawing a cigarette to his lips. “Or do you prefer Shepherd?”
Shepherd’s talons dug into the palm of her hands. She’d really hoped he would be in the room with her – then she’d at least have had the option of attack.
“Shepherd is fine,” she said, with practiced evenness. “What do you want?”
3. Any Port in a Storm
Garrus didn’t know what he was planning to do with the two hours before they hit the Omega-4 relay, but potentially the last thing he expected was a summons to Miranda’s quarters. Actually no, that wasn’t quite the last thing – the very last thing he expected was for her to, without so much as a word of explanation, slam him against the wall and attack him with her mouth.
4. Small Problems
There were two kinds of private libraries in this world: those intended to store books, and those intended to make visitors feel stupid and inferior, and the one Garrus and Shepard were standing in was definitely the latter.
5. Priceless
The most important quality a thief could have – the bit that set apart the professionals from the amateurs – was that you always had to act like you owned the place.
6. Diamond in the Rough
War was really fucking stressful.
7. Bitter Harvest
The forest was quiet and bright; dry leaves crunched under Hastings’s hooves, and the air was pleasantly cool against Anderson’s face. Someone else might have taken pleasure in that rare stillness, but all it did was leave him on-edge. Wariness and suspicion were a witcher’s constant companions, or at least they were for him.
8. In the Bleak Midwinter
No child older than nine had ever survived the Trial of the Grasses, and most potential witchers were brought in younger than that. Most were orphans; some were abandoned; and not an insignificant minority were sold off by drunkard fathers or harlot mothers. The trainees were taken to castles in the middle of nowhere and raised by a group of fatherless whoresons who themselves had been raised by other, older fatherless whoresons.
In short, Shepard’s upbringing had been lacking in a lot of things taken for granted by those raised in normal families; so whenever she entered a town and saw Yule decorations strewn about the place, her first thought was always Oh, great, the inn’s going to be rammed.
9. Bedside Manner
The cave was cold and dirty and dank, and above all it was small.
10. Interregnum
The cost of a day pass at the gym was, frankly, extortionate, but Gareth paid it anyway. It was the closest one to the clinic, he was desperate to hit something, and it was probably better if it wasn’t an orderly.
Patterns... I'm very acutely aware of my in media res problem 😅 If anyone spots anything else, let me know!
Tagging @kalliesa @angry-jager @dispatchwithlove @dwarrowdams @misseffect @aevallare
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Aiden angst because I love writing them
Aiden didn’t think he was at much risk after Tess was voted off. He had a stable alliance, and everyone seemed to get along. They knew they still had a risk, but he was okay at the current moment.
Then the next challenge occurred and Lake was voted off. It hurt to see her go, they had developed an almost sibling kind of friendship, and he cared for her a ton. But Lake getting booted off of the game wasn’t the only thing that happened.
Karol was brought back into the game.
They didn’t dislike Karol, not at all, but he knew she still hated him for unwillingly betraying her. Karol had every right to hate him in Aiden’s eyes, but it still scared him that she wanted to be nice and start anew after it all happened.
He knew she was lying, he wasn’t that stupid. But they weren’t all too happy about it either.
Aiden held his small backpack in his hands as they ran off into the forest, away from everyone else. After Karol was brought back, he was struck with a wave of guilt that just wouldn’t go away. He needed to get out, at least for a little.
He ran back to the river that they had found a few days prior with Lake when they wanted to talk. He loved this river, it was quiet and calm enough to clear Aiden’s mind for a split second.
They sat down, facing the river as their mind wandered. His thoughts were both pleasant and bitter. It was conflicting.
Aiden soon ended up thinking about James and Karol once again. He remembered the betrayal, how angry Karol was at him, how upset he was with James, and how he couldn’t even look at himself without feeling like a traitor. They were so tired of it.
The memories were cold and bitter and caused him to tear up. They weren’t the best with his emotions, but he did as much as he could to try not to cry.
He was mad.
Mad at James. Mad at Karol.
Mad at the competition entirely.
But most of all, he was mad at himself.
He was mad that he was such an idiot.
He pulled his legs close to his chest and they buried his face in their arms, struggling to keep back their tears until eventually he just burst out into silent sobs. Aiden didn’t want to cry, it made him feel like an absolute joke, but they just needed to let out some steam somehow.
Aiden pulled their head up and wiped their cheek with his wrists.
“Wow. I’m crying over people I’ve known only for a few weeks. That’s stupid.” Their tone was sarcastic and his voice was slightly broken. He needed a break, it was all too obvious now.
Aiden was about to stand up but decided against it. He’d rather wait till morning than go to sleep in the cabin after this whole breakdown. He looked up at the sky, the moon was high up in the night, bright white rays reflecting through the tree branches. Aiden shivered and rubbed his hands up and down his arms, realizing how cold he was.
“Why am I so pathetic?” Aiden’s voice was barely above a whisper as if he was afraid someone would hear him. The moon cast an eery glow over everything, especially on the water. There was barely anything else moving except for the occasional frog that jumped and squeaked quietly underwater.
Aiden looked up at the stars, wondering what their names were. He lost himself in those thoughts before hearing a twig snap. He froze completely at the sound, but then realized someone was making their way toward him slowly. He turned his head to see Hunter of all people standing behind him.
“Hunter,” Aiden breathed out softly. “You startled me. Why are you still awake?” He asked, trying to play innocent. Aiden didn’t know what to say.
Hunter stood there, looking down at him, staring at nothing in particular. But he didn’t say anything. The silence weighed on Aiden, and he shifted uncomfortably.
Hunter finally spoke.
“Are you okay?” His voice was soft, gentle. It surprised Aiden a bit, that Hunter had come over here to check in on Aiden. Hunter rarely ever spoke to him, preferring instead to sit silently beside Aiden during conversations or challenges or he preferred just to talk to Ally and Tess instead.
Hunter must have read his expression because he continued speaking softly.
“You… don’t seem like yourself tonight. Your face is red and your eyes are puffy.” Hunter sounded concerned now, which was unusual for him. This was probably the first time Hunter had spoken to Aiden in any way other than to talk about something he was talking about too. Maybe Hunter was worried about him.
Maybe Hunter cared about him.
And suddenly, Aiden felt the need to confess. Aiden felt somewhat comfortable talking to him right now, so why shouldn’t he try to open up a bit? But he wasn’t sure he could trust Hunter right now, especially now that the teams are dissolved.
Aiden’s heart swelled sadly at the thought of being manipulated once again.
“Yeah... yeah, I’m fine, I’m fine. Everything is good. Everything is great.” Aiden forced a laugh, hoping it didn’t come out too fake sounding.
Hunter frowned at him. “What do you mean? You don’t look fine at all. What are you hiding?” Hunter moved closer, crouching next to Aiden. He looked him straight in the eyes, his blue eyes boring into Aiden’s green ones.
“Did something happen? You can tell me if you want to.”
That was fair. Aiden didn’t want to lie to Hunter. And Hunter never did anything to Aiden, not intentionally anyway. So there was no harm in them talking. No harm at all. It might make things less tense between them, but maybe not as much stress as if Aiden were to lie.
Still. Aiden’s tongue went dry.
“It’s complicated.” Aiden started, not knowing where to begin. Should he just blurt out everything in one fell swoop? Probably not.
Hunter gave a slight nod, indicating to Aiden that he should continue.
“So, Karol came back, and she hates me and James for what James manipulated me into doing. And don’t get me wrong, I love James, he’s a good person and he has changed, but Karol is going to try and get us out of the competition because of what happened, I just know it. I feel awful about it because she’s justified in hating me. I didn’t want to do anything wrong, we just didn’t understand each other very well and James used that to his advantage.” Aiden was rambling by the end, and he couldn’t stop himself.
He had been bottling all of this up since the day Karol came back to the camp.
Hunter tilted his head, looking concerned. Aiden took a deep breath.
“She already got Lake voted out, and I know she’s gonna try and take advantage of the situation and get me or James voted out and I hate it. I hate thinking about it. I want to make things right with Karol, I do. But now she hates me, more than ever…”
Aiden buried his face in his knees and pulled his legs close to his chest once again. He remembered why he didn’t want to talk to Hunter about what happened. He knew that this was a risky move, but they wanted to be upset about what they did for a bit more.
“Well, ultimately, what you and James did to Karol wasn’t right. But I know that for you, it came from a place of trusting someone you thought was your friend. And James has become a better person, primarily thanks to you, so I think maybe you should try to talk to Karol about it. If she doesn’t listen, it’s her problem. You shouldn’t let it bother you, and if it does, you can always talk to me about it. I take it James doesn’t know you feel like this?”
Aiden nodded no, his eyes firmly on the ground.
“I didn’t think so. You look tired, you should get some rest. It is about to be the camp’s curfew.” Hunter stood up and stuck his hand out for Aiden, who accepted and let him help them up.
They two walked in silence to the cabins, and once inside Aiden went straight to bed. He didn’t realize how tired he was until their head hit the pillow.
Under his blanket he held his teddy bear close to his chest, letting sleep overtake him.
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Hiiii! Your lancierre agenda is getting to me but me being me has made it into a very angsty piarles (one-sided but it's actually double sided but they're idiots) thing with a side of lanceste
lance has been in love with este for as long as he has known him. he knew este would never love him back though, with them being so different from each other. plus este was already taken. lance didn't even know where he stood anymore, elena was the love of his life and while este may be his best friend, the knot in his stomach said that este's best friend was now mick. the bitter thing was that he introduced them and it was all well in the beginning, they were thee trio, until he dropped down to tie his shoelaces properly and found out that they both had moved on already without a single glance back, too busy in their bubble to notice his absence. he couldn't give up on este that easily though, not when he was the only one in his life who had made a true effort in getting to know the actual him and the small but dark part of him was kind of glad mick was out of a seat, maybe he had a chance to get his place back afterall. so that found him loitering outside of the 6th floor of hotel magnus, where alpine had booked out every room. he was just gathering the courage to go knock on este's door when another door opened, and out stepped pierre. he got along well with pierre, they always indulged in a game of padel every few months and made sure to catch each other up on every paddock gossip.
he pretended his heart didn't break when pierre mentioned that este was out with elena and maybe that was what made him accept pierre's offer of getting a few drinks in his room
before he knew it, he ended up pouring his heart out to pierre, who confessed his own one sided love with charles. the next day, he woke up with a new "how to move on" plan, a newfound determination and a friends with benefits arrangements with the teammate of his crush.
-
pierre had always known he was in love with charles, even when he was 7 years old and knew nothing about love or 27 years old and knew about love but nothing of love. somedays he pretended he and charles had drunkenly agreed to get married if they were both single in their 30s but he knew he'd never say that outloud because charles deserved better. but he also knew nobody could love charles more than he did.
he knew it was love when a 12yr old charles ran his car off the road in the video game they were playing and he just pretended to be enraged before tackling charles and tickling him until he couldn't breathe, both of them too out of breath but still laughing. the knowledge of him chewing out este for doing the same thing a year prior, having an actual argument with the seriousness only 13yr olds can muster over little things. he liked to think it was because he matured in one year but he knew it was just because he liked charles' smile too much to ever be angry at it
it was too late though.
all his life, pierre had done everything. he was the partner in crime whenever tween them got in mischief, he was the encouraging friend when charles whispered that he might like boys too and if it's okay, he was the supportive shoulder when charles lost someone he shouldn't have, he was the ear when charles started out in f1 and struggled the first three races, he was the person in his corner when charles had the weight of the world ferrari on his shoulders, the drunk buddy when he broke up with charlotte, he was there for everything! but he refused to be just the best friend while charles fell in love with someone else though.
what was worse though, was that charles was falling in love with a man and it wasn't pierre. pierre wasn't naive enough to think charles was a virgin, he knew he had had hookups with men in the past but he just couldn't take charles dating a man too and then falling in love with him and getting married and having 10 fat babies. he couldn't, not when he would be forever haunted by how it could have been him if he was anyone but who he was.
the man in question was an engineer at ferrari, recently transferred from alfa romeo because of his brilliance, known by the name emil and known for his niceness. He had seen the looks emil had given charles, had seen charles blush at the attention, had seen the secret smiles they shared. he wrote everything off though, until he once let himself in charles' hotel room and found a bouquet of red roses on the side table and a "with love, emil" note attached to it. emil better treat charles right but pierre needn't worry too much, he knew the other ferrari engineers would tear emil apart if he was ever anything but a good boyfriend to charles.
he'd still be the best friend but he refused to stand by and watch charles falling in love with a man that wasn't him.
it was these haunting thoughts that led to him running into lance and making the perfect arrangement, to "move on" from charles and having someone who truly understood what he was feeling.................
.......
OH MY GOODNESS HELLO. HELLOOOOO. PLEASE THIS IS THE ONLY THING SALVAGING MY DAY TELL ME.MORE
#also honestly same like the best version of lance/pierre (to me) is the pierre/charles adjacent version where it's a mutual idiots thing#ANYWAY!!!! PLEASE OMG TELL ME MOREEEEE#10 x 18#10 x 16#ask reply#Anonymous
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The way you choose
Note: inspired by Hawkeye: Freefall. Clint does not has a good time. It gets better.
Pairing: Clint/Marc
Warning: Violence. blood. murdering. bad decisions.
He looks at Ronin.
He looks over to Bullseye.
He looks back at Ronin.
He sighs.
"Clint-" Marc starts moodily. "Why are you wearing his outfit?". Clint holds the bow tight and only slightly changes the position so that the arrow would fly right past him. "Because he's wearing mine," Clint replies with angry bitterness. "Why is he even wearing the Ronin outfit?" Marc asks dryly. "It's a long story," Clint sighs and exhaustion fills the voice that makes Marc frown.
When he heard that Ronin appeared out of nowhere a few days ago, his alarm bells started ringing. The headlines that came with it didn't make things any better. This situation, however, confuses him more than it should. He had expected to save Clint from something insanely stupid. He's sure he'll save Clint from something insanely stupid, the question is what kind of stupid.
"I hate stories-" Lester begins and Marc has easily suppressed the fact that the man is still there. Your concentration falters, whispers a voice he's sure he's imagining. "The short story is Clinton pissed off the wrong people," Lester chirps, and Marc half-turns to make sure he can see Clint out of the corner of his eye. "That doesn't explain the role reversal," Marc grumbles. "He's only playing a game," Clint explains with an unbridled anger that's new even to Marc.
"That's right," Lester agrees happily, still holding his bow cocked and ready to shoot. Marc can imagine his crazy amused grin under the mask. "I don't know what's being played here," Marc begins with a firm voice. "but it ends now". He starts moving. "I don't need you to fight my battles", hisses Clint and lets go of the arrow.
Two arrows fly past him, meet in the middle and burst.
"This is going to be funny," Lester laughs, greatly amused. Marc turns to Clint, who has already drawn a new arrow on his bow. "I'm not fighting your fight," Marc growls, stepping up to Clint and grabbing him by the front of the suit. Clint tries to push him off. "I finish it".
He pushes Clint backwards, causing him to fall.
And as Clint falls, a white cloak sways over him as Marc turns around.
Due to the injuries and lack of sleep over the past few days, Clint is unable to defy gravity. His head hits the ground and there's a sickening crack he's sure he doesn't want to know what it was. Pain surges through his head and then spreads to the rest of his body.
Black dots dance before his eyes and perform a choreography that he cannot follow. He closes his eyes. Sounds of battle and unintelligible words spill over to him. Everything seems far away and he is sure he has a concussion. Damn Marc, he thinks angrily and groans in pain. I survive an explosion, but this is where my body draws a line, typical. "
Take off the damn mask," Marc suddenly says next to him and in one ruthsless movement, the mask is pulled off his face. "The suit doesn't suit you," Marc explains and Clint rolls his eyes. "Unfortunately, the other suit was already taken," he grumbles. "You better watch your stuff." "And you should stay out of certain things," Clint replies harshly and sitting up.
The world turns a bit and he suppresses the rising nausea. "I just saved your ass," Marc says grumpily and supports him a bit. It's a gentle touch on his back and his inner anger wants to push him away. Another part of him, however, wants to lean into the touch.
Fucking concussion.
"My ass didn't need a rescue. I had everything under control-” “You didn't”, Marc interrupts dryly and gets up. Clint rolls his eyes again and then his eyes drop to the front. "Why did you kill him? You weren't entitled to it," Clint says irritably and looks at the chaos that has been created. Arrows lie scattered around a dead body that almost melts into the darkness in the poorly lit environment. The only thing that clearly stands out is the crescent moon stuck in the dead man's chest.
"Maybe you're right-" Marc begins and something soft resonates with the hard tone. A hand is offered to him, Clint takes it and is carefully pulled to his feet. "but better me than you". Clint's hands firm in the soft white fabric of Marc's suit. "I don't need you for my-" "I know. But you are about to lose yourself on a path that will have dire consequences if you continue walking on it."
Clint sighs before breaking into slightly hysterical laughter. "What?" asks Marc, crossing his arms. "Only the absurdity that you want to admonish me about a dark path and its consequences," Clint explains, drawing an annoyed snort from Marc before he moves and walks away from the chaos.
Clint takes one last look at the dead man before following Marc.
The ride back to his apartment is brought in silence. Clint is still struggling with the concussion and a bag of M&M, that he found in the passenger drawer while Marc stares ahead cursing the New York traffic. If it were his car, he would drive more ruthlessly. However, it is Jake's cab and Jake is very sensitive about his belongings.
He parks the car, gets out and walks towards the building. Clint lumbers after him with slow, slightly dizzy steps. It's a better walk than on the platform, so Marc assumes Clint will be fine. He's always fine, a voice mocks and Marc has to agree. It's one of Clint's many problems. He is always fine. He could break every bone in his body, he could fall off a roof, or he could be abducted by aliens and he'd still be fine.
Marc unlocks the door, trudges up the stairs and is waiting on the landing when he hears that Clint has stopped. Clint's gaze falls into the basement. "Ghosts down there?" Marc asks casually to banish the tense mood. Clint's eyes meet his. They look tormented and exhausted. “Kind of", replies Clint and starts walking.
It takes them longer than usual to reach the apartment and when Clint finally gets there, he leans against the door while unlocking the door with shaky hands. As it swings up, Marc grabs his elbow to keep himself from falling. Clint murmurs a thank you and then enters inside. "Huh," Marc says, slightly surprised as Clint collapses onto the couch. "What?" Clint grumbles, not bothering to lift his face from the pillow.
"I was expecting a card-" begins Marc, looking around. "with pictures and purple threads tied to notes." "They're in the basement," Clint mumbles, turning sideways. "Why?" he asks, frowning. "In case anyone comes over here," Clint explains and sighs.
"Makes sense-" Marc mumbles and sits down on the couch. "I wouldn't want the Winter Soldier to see my crazy little wall either." Clint gives a derisive snort. "You know what the funny thing is?" asks Clint, not waiting for an answer. Marc probably wouldn't have answered anyway. "Of all the people who have confronted me about Ronin in the past few days, Bucky is probably the only one who really believed me when I said I wasn't."
"Congratulations, you have successfully lied to the Winter Soldier," whispers Marc and now pulls the mask off his face. A black eye adorns his face and his lip has bled. He's hurt because of me, Clint thinks, shifting his gaze forward. "Hey," Marc says softly and puts an encouraging hand on Clint's thigh. "Give me the whole picture," Marc adds, and Clint sighs.
"Parker Robbins is an asshole who deserves to be ruined," Clint declares coldly and with detachment. "Is that why Ronin should kill him? Because he's an asshole?” “I can't kill him-” Clint replies. "but I can ruin his business. I can make sure he-” “He knows you're Ronin-” Marc interrupts. "He'll make it public and ruin you."
Clint gives an exasperated sigh and is about to get up.
What are you doing?" asks Marc and also gets up. "I'm going to finish this," Clint says in a frown and a dark voice. "You're going to do something stupid," Marc replies, grabbing Clint's arm. "Tomorrow morning he'll put a bounty on you and tell everyone about your little secret. If you leave now, there will be no turning back." "Maybe I don't want that either."
There is no going back.
There is no other way that leads away from this dark path.
It's just going forward.
"You're angry-" Marc begins in an understanding voice. "And I can understand it. But this is a fight you don't-" "He had Bryce killed and because of him Cap is in the hospital. He has hurt and killed innocent people and he will never be held accountable. It will end".
Clint wriggles out of the grip and pushes Marc out of the way. However, Marc doesn't have a concussion and doesn't suffer from sleep deprivation, so it's easy for him to send Clint back to the ground. "Get off me," Clint croaks, trying to push Marc away. There's not enough power behind it for Clint to really pull it off.
"I have to do this," Clint says through clenched teeth and Marc shakes his head. “You don’t has to do it. There are other ways and-” “There aren't,” Clint hisses, pausing. “I started something and lost control of everything. Bryce's blood is on my hands. I lied to Cap and now he's in the hospital. I lied to everyone...I...there is no going back and...I have to end this no matter what the outcome is."
His voice breaks at the end and he closes his eyes to keep the tears from falling. Perhaps the situation would have been different if he had thought longer at the beginning and had not opted for the most drastic of all options. But he put on the suit and lied, creating a chaos waiting to explode.
Parker Robbins is going down and if he goes with it, so be it.
A hand gently cups his cheek, brushing away a tear he didn't even know was there. "I'll do it," Marc murmurs and Clint opens his eyes. Anger flares up in them. "I do not need you-". "Ronin doesn't need me. But Hawkeye and especially Clint need my help and I will. Help. End a War"
Marc stands up and pulls the mask down. "Stay here," he warns in a decisive voice. "Marc," Clint growls, about to get up himself as Marc slips two metal rings around his wrists, then slides his arms back where they are magnetically attracted and connect. Marc pushes him slightly and Clint falls to the ground again. "You fucking asshole"
"You know Clinton-" Marc begins with a touch of melancholy. "maybe you should learn that you can't win every fight alone and that sometimes help is nice". He climbs out the window and ignores Clint's swearing.
"Moon Knight," Parker Robbins says in surprise, and everyone in the room turns to him. "What a joyful surprise-" "You can save that shit. I'm here because of your announcement,” explains Marc. Robbins looks skeptically at the bag resting on his shoulder. "So you want to participate in the bounty?" Robbins asks suspiciously and Marc shakes his head. "I'm here to end this."
The bag lands on the floor. Robbins grimaces. "If you brought me Ronin, I have to disappoint you. It's the wrong one." "As funny as it would be, in the bag isn't a body, it's money." "Money?" "Three million dollars to be more precise," Marc continues. The whispering starts, but Marc just looks at Parker Robbins. "Your three million dollars".
"Wha?!" Parker says indignantly, turning to his henchman. "I was going to tell you sir, but-" "When!" He just walked into the bank and grabbed the money." Robbins' face turns red with anger and Marc grins. Robbins begins to charge him, but Marc stands still and pulls out a lighter. The flame hisses softly as he activates it.
He's never been more grateful for Jake's stupid habit.
"I've never seen money burn," he says calmly and Robbins stops abruptly. "Okay-" Robbins starts and takes a deep breath. "We all want to stay sane." "I've never made reasonable decisions, but I'll propose you a deal-" begins Marc. "I'm proposing a deal to you all." For the first time, he turns his gaze to the other people.
"Split the money between yourselves and leave the whole thing alone." They whisper while Robbins puffs himself up. "That's my money and-" "No more, didn't you heard the part that said I stole it?" Marc interrupts, amused. "So what now?" he asks the would-be villains. "And what if we'd rather spank an Avenger than take the money?" asks Tombstone.
Marc's posture becomes more tense and menacing. He lights up the blade in his hand. "Should I see any of you around, the last thing either of you will see will be me." Mumbling again and then everyone nods. "You can't give my-" "Then get it."
Robbins doesn't need a second invitation. He can block the first punch, but with the second he staggers a little to the side. It's an uneven fight considering one of them wears a demonic cloak. He manages to hit Robbins a few times and wrestles him to the ground briefly, but Robbins breaks free and gets up again. It's the cloak that manages to keep Marc on the ground.
"That was nice," Robbins scoffs, adjusting his tie. "Even more exciting than what Clinton could have offered me. After all, he's only human and you're...whatever. The rumors are different. Anyway-” Robbins walks over to the bag. "I should kill you first and then Cli-" he opens the bag and a demon slips out. His claws grab the cloak and pull it off Robbins.
Before anyone can react.
Before Robbins realizes what happened, the demon is gone and with it the cloak.
The bag closes.
"What..." Robbins starts to babble. "What was that?" "Oh that?" Marc laughs and gets up. "Kind regards from Count Nefaria-" Marc continues delightfully. "I gave him the money and he gave me this little friend who wanted your cloak." Robbins spends a few seconds looking at the bag in confusion before his face turns red again.
"I can kill you without the cloak," Robbins grumbles in an angry voice and draws a gun. However, Marc is stronger and has the advantage. He grabs Robbins hand and squeezes it until the gun is released from the grip. He hits a couple of times, pinning Robbins against a wall. "I still have evidence that Barton is Ronin and if the public does-" "There is no evidence," Marc interrupts rudely. "Bullseye wears the suit, nobody's going to question why a psychopath would do shit under a different name."
Robbins head makes a rough encounter with the wall.
"Ah"
"You know Parker. You've done a lot of stupid things and it ends today"
It's brutal and full of hate. There is no worse sound than bones breaking, crunching and destroying each other with each successive encounter. Blood spurts out along with a greyish mass. When he lets go of the head, the body falls limp to the floor.
There's a satisfying feeling in his chest. A feeling that will not last. It never lasts. He turns away. The wannabe villains are still there. "What about the money?" Thombstone asks, crossing his arms. "Check your e-mails," says Marc and leaves the scene behind him.
He exits the building only to be greeted by Barnes and Romanoff. "Daylight doesn't suit you so well," Romanoff chirps in a sweet voice, but there's a gleam in her eyes that says she'd love to rip his head off. Barnes has the same expression, but he is not his biggest problem.
"It was a long night," Marc replies, walking past them. They follow him. Of course they do. "You killed Ronin-" Barnes mutters. "or Bullseye. Depending on how you want to see it, huh?”. Marc shrugs. "He was a nuisance. Just like Robbins. I believe we can all get back to our usual activities now."
"I know it was Clint," Romanoff says in a serious voice, and he pauses. "There's no evidence-" Marc begins calmly, turning to face them. "and if I were you, I'd be very careful with accusations," he warns. "What do you mean?" Romanoff asks coolly, scowling at him. "If people walked around and assumed that one of you was caught up in old patterns and shit that doesn't fit the superhero image, Clint would be one of the first to deny it," Marc replies, taking a few steps towards the two of them to.
"You of all people should know how it feels to be blamed for things you didn't do wrong." Barnes sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose. "You're right-" Barnes murmurs. "it just doesn't change the fact that Steve is in the hospital and Ronin left a lot of chaos in his wake." Marc shrugs. He doesn't care about Captain America and the chaos will unravel in the next few weeks and nobody will remember it. "It's over now," says Marc matter-of-factly.
Neither of them seem to believe him. Instead, there are skeptical and icy cold looks. "Ronin is dead-" Marc affirms, wanting to pound the words into their brains. "Parker Robbins is dead-" he adds. "None of this can be traced back to Clint, so we should just leave it alone." There is a slight nod from Barnes as Romanoff just looks at him, presumably plotting his murder.
"Well then. I'll see you...or hopefully not."
He enters the apartment to find Clint still lying on the floor staring at the ceiling. "I'm back," whispers Marc, standing over Clint. "You asshole," Clint mumbles and Marc grins at him. "I know". He lies down on the floor next to Clint. "Will you take these things off my hands?" Clint grumbles, looking over at him. "Are you going to hit me?" "Probably" "Then I'll let them there for now."
A silence spreads between them, which is not considered uncomfortable. It's been a long night for both of them and one of them has a concussion, so silence is probably better than another verbal argument. "Is it over?" Clint asks after a while. His voice is low, nothing more than a whisper. "Parker Robbins is dead and the cloak is gone," confirms Marc and sees Clint nod out of the corner of his eye.
"How did you know about that?" Clint asks. "When Ronin decided to blow himself and Spider-man up, I started to prick up my ears," explains Marc in a calm tone, as if he were discussing the weather. "Then you took your time to intervene," Clint points out and Marc shrugs his shoulders.
"I watched and let you do your thing. But then the situation slipped away and new players came into play-”, begins Marc and looks at Clint. "besides-" he adds with a smirk. "Your ass looked pretty hot in that suit." An amused snort escapes Clint. "Oh did he?" he asks, wiggling his eyebrows. Marc nods and leans forward. Their lips are only a few millimeters apart.
“He did”.
#moonhawk#clint barton/marc spector#Comic clint barton#comic marc spector#hawkeye freefall fanfic#purple-writing
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FIC I WILL PROBABLY NEVER WRITE BUT HAVE THOUGHT ABOUT WAY TOO MUCH
ok so i’ve had this supernatural/doctor who crossover fic in my mind for AGES in which when amy gets touched by the weeping angle she ends up in this small town in the 70s and ends up running into someone she quickly figures is a time traveler aka dean (it’s the episode where he meets his parents in the past) and while they distrust each other they make a deal and gets cas to transport her back to the future as well only for her the figure out SHIT this is not my universe. she desperately tries to contact the doctor but fails, falls off the grid for a bit but then joins Team Free Will. we then find out she’s actually been dragged into the universe by gabriel since the blood of a time & dimension traveller (kinda like the particles that rose had on her that caused her to be dragged into the other dimension) is needed to open the cage because in my head the cage is like in its own dimension frozen in time for extra security. and weeping angles are like a failed version of angles so he was able to work through them. they manage to lock lucifer away and all that jazz.
so this is where i need some more planning. i kinda have this vague idea that some stuff does change because i hate it when you do a “we add a character to this but nothing changes” fic. not sure what tho aside from saving kevin. my boy deserved more. but anyways, i imagine amy and dean to start a loose physical relationship just because they are both bitter but sex positive people and cannot have more because amy is still attached to rory and dean doesn’t realise he has a thing for cas. (but amy will make him help realise. we cannot not end this with destiel) they form a deep friendship tho, because i think when dean tries the suburban life and fails, it’s amy who he talks too because she can relate, trying and failing to let go of her life with the doctor. she in turn talks to him about dealing with loosing faith with an idol aka the doctor because she struggles with letting go of the faith that he will come and save her and instead having to learn how to save herself and also how she had a kid (river) who she felt she let down (and dean relates because of his relationship with his dad and sam) amy kind of becomes an occasional hunter who spends most of her time searching for ways to hop dimensions.
buuuut she kinda becomes desperate. after petitioning loads of angles and getting no help even though she “did her part in their little game now please put her back” so she turns to demons. and finds out crowley actually visited her world and met the doctor. but he refuses to help her and she becomes angry and goes down a darker path (amy was always to comfortable with guns and making darker choices. and i just see crowley being like “what would your precious doctor think of you now?” and her going like “he isn’t here”) cue in abaddon. she and amy make a deal that amy will help her defeat crowley if she helps her get back to her own dimension. however, abaddon realises that she needs to eliminate the winchesters too and the best to get close to them is amy. cut to that hotel room scene but instead of abaddon in her usual body in walks abaddon possessing amy. the thing is dean has really hyped himself up to kill abaddon and even though he tries to exorcise her out of amy before the fight gets to the kill or be killed point and having to use the mark to win this he ends up killing her and slashing the body like in the show.
of course because i don’t want to end it to depressing, dean falls into a deep guilt fuelled depression but realises he needs to get rid of the mark asap and with the help of sam and cas who he is slowly starting to actually acknowledge his feelings for ending in them getting together they get rid of the mark. (idk if i want the darkness to happen, if so it’s an open ending. but deffo no weird sexual tension with dean he is happy with his new bf cas). SUDDENLY who pops up? the instigator of this whole thing: Gabriel. He was the one to drag amy over and while he didn’t properly die he was extremely weakened. but when amy died he was able to catch her soul and return her to the heaven in her universe so she can at least be with rory in death. he tells dean that amy forgives him and knew he had to kill her and not to be eaten alive by his guilt over her death and instead get his shit together with cas and sam who like her love him but are actually still around. BUT gabe granted her one last favour, one last goodbye. CUT TO THE LAST SCENE:
“raggedy man, good night”
#supernatural#doctor who#superwho#crossover#dean winchester#amy pond#amy pond x dean winchester#destiel#this was all born out of some stupid superwho youtube video i watched like 5 years ago#the world building ideas i had with connecting the two fandoms#and no one is gonna read this but i had to put it down in words
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“Roses and regrets” for the ask game -🌖anon
Ooooo! Very good title!
Flower shop AU, bittersweet, sweet then angsty 'cause it's both a getting together and breaking up fic.
Snapshots throughout a relationship! Here's a few ideas of the scenes I would write:
First meeting.
Getting together.
A few cute moments that also foreshadow that the relationship isn't great.
Breakup scene, very emotional. Specifically, one person wants to break up with the other.
Later, after the broken-up-with person has moved on and has a new partner, the instigator regrets the break-up but knows they can't go back.
A couple of the scenes (first meeting, confession, and post break-up) are below the cut because I'm a sucker for flower/coffee shop type AUs and wanted to write some of this! Also, slight warning for language.
Person A: works at the flower shop, fluent in flower language. I could see a few characters working here, and really can't narrow it down.
Person B: Person A's love interest, a customer. I'm kind of thinking this would be the reader, but we get the story from Person A's view.
Person B storms into the shop. "How do I say 'fuck you' with flowers?"
"What?" Person A looked up from the counter, surprised at the intensity of the customer.
"How do I say 'fuck you' with a bouquet? My boss pissed me off and I can't exactly talk back if I want to keep the job."
Person A smiles. "You'd be surprised how often we get that sort of request. One bouquet of geraniums, yellow carnations, orange lilies, foxgloves and meadowsweet coming right up!"
"So, I'm actually looking for a specific flower this time- you don't need to tell me the meaning of this one!" Person B looked excited, but there was a hint of something else in their eyes. Nervousness, maybe?
Person A grins. "Finally picked up a flower guide, then? What flower are you looking for?"
Person B returns the smile. "A rose. Red, to be specific."
Person A froze. "A... red rose." It was not a question, but Person B nodded.
"Yeah. Just one." There was a beat of awkward silence as Person A walked over to the bins of flowers, picking out a blossom from the bunches.
Returning to the counter, Person A handed over the flower. They took the payment offered by Person B. "Did you want a card and name for that?"
"No, I'm pretty sure they'll know what I mean by this." With a nod, Person B turned and walked out the door.
Approximately two seconds later, they returned, holding the rose behind their back and with a bright grin plastered on their face.
"Hello, Person A. I have a gift for you!"
From POV of Person A: Person B walks through the door of the shop, the bell chiming out a welcome. Walking straight to the counter, they smile sheepishly at Person A. "Hey."
"Long time no see. What can I get for you." Passive aggressive, though mostly angry at self.
"A bouquet of roses, please. Red." Person A is sad and regretful, but makes the bouquet silently.
"And who should I address this to?"
"Oh!" Person B brightens significantly. "Person C! We started going out a while ago, and I want to do something nice for them!"
I introduced you to Person C. Person A is bitter, but fulfills the order and hands the bouquet over. The scene ends with Person B waving cheerfully as they leave, rushing across the street to Person C and handing over the flowers. Person C thanks Person B with a kiss.
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01/07/24 - The third (or fourth) breakdown
I used to live with a guy. Let’s call him Warhammer. He was LOUD. Not even just the kind of loud where he needed to constantly be heard (although he was that, too) but the kind of loud where he would be talking at his natural volume and you could hear him in a crowd from the other side of the room. And he had a really bad case of ADHD. So he would be playing a video game, watching a YouTube video on his phone, and playing DnD over discord all at the same time.
I’m his polar opposite in that regard. I’m typically pretty quiet, and I need a lot of quiet time or I start to get… grumpy. I put all of my focus on a single thing at a time, and I like to do so in a peaceful environment. We’re talking candle burning, comfy pajamas on, one of those ambient music playlists with the forest sounds playing in the background.
And sometimes I may have fantasized about dumping him feet first into a very slow wood chipper. Because I had to wear my noise canceling headphones, and unless I turned the volume up so high it completely counteracted the effect, I could still hear his obnoxiously loud voice over my nice peaceful ambient sounds. From a different room.
This was basically every day, slowly chipping away, along with a few other things. I’m not quite sure why the volume is always the thing I remember the most vividly, when there were other things, things that would probably bother most people a lot more. Regardless, I never said anything about any of it.
That was his home too. I didn’t feel like I had any right to tell him not to do what he wants in his home. Asking him to talk quieter would have been about as useful as asking me to talk louder (I will, for about two seconds, then I’ll go back to my normal volume without realizing it, and for those two seconds I’ll feel horribly uncomfortable because it feels like I’m yelling at you) but I could have asked him if he could turn the volume down. Or hell, maybe he could even turn at least the video game volume off. I don’t think the sound was strictly necessary. And it wouldn’t hurt to ask, right?
But I never said anything, and I just got more and more bitter, and eventually I left. The way I left was not ideal. And it certainly wasn’t fair. This was definitely not a simple case of “I was quite and you were unaware,” I did some shitty things near the end that I’m not particularly proud of. But I still can’t make myself feel too bad about it, because there’s a LOT more to that story, things I don’t think he realized I knew, and if I had been in a healthier headspace I never would have went out with him in the first place. If I’m being honest, I think the aftermath was karma for both of us.
I do that, though. I stay quiet about things that should be talked about, expect the other person to bring them up, then I get bitter and angry and hurt when they don’t, I start getting passive aggressive, and then I just cut ties and leave without any warning.
I brought that particular situation up because it was different than normal. I never had any feelings for him outside of friendship. We were both weirdos, the difference being that he wore his strangeness like a suit of armor to attract attention and I tried desperately to hide it from anyone who I didn’t think could handle it (pretty much everyone). We were similar in the ways that mattered to me at the time, and we got along better than I had gotten along with anyone in a long time, and we had known each other for a while so I got to see how well he treated his ex.
Also, he was interested in me. Honestly, at that point that may have been all it took. Everything else was probably icing on a cake made of industrial waste. As previously mentioned, unhealthy headspace. I was lonely and he was interested, and interesting, and I thought the feelings would develop if I spent enough time with him. I learned that that’s not how it works.
The feelings are either there, screaming in my face, beating against my skull, demanding that I don’t turn away no matter how many times I try, (and trust me, I try. I try so so hard), or they’re just.
Not.
And they just weren’t there. I tried breaking up with him three times. Every time he would give me reasons I’m being unreasonable. Calm down you’re being dramatic, you’re paranoid, seeing things that aren’t there, jumping to conclusions. All things I’m prone to doing. I would back down for a few days, a week, and try again with the same results.
Finally I broke up with him via changing my relationship status on Facebook and went to Texas. I also left a massive, I mean MASSIVE mess behind when I left. I left my entire life there, anything I couldn’t fit in my backpack.
It should be noted that over the last seven years I’ve had several mental breakdowns. As if I need to break down completely, but it has to happen in intervals, otherwise I would probably go insane and kill myself. Am I allowed to say that here? Oh well, I said it anyway.
That was the third breakdown. Maybe the fourth.
TBC…
#andtheghost#text#personal#spilled thoughts#blog#mental health#relationships#long reads#diaryposting
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Tell us how you’d be caustic to each other 👀
Aight Nonny 👀 you got it.
We'll start with Katsuki. Both of us have screaming matches sometimes, yelling at each other and nitpicking over the smallest fucking thing because we are both too prideful or independent or stupid to be able to express or take the time to analyze our feelings so we sometimes take it out on each other. Even times with physical altercations when out tempers get absolutely out of control. Each match ending in the infamous line of "Then fucking break up with me." Katsuki would then push me up against a wall and make out with me, hoping sex will fix the issue and angry sex normally does but it's not a long term fix. And maybe one day we both let slip, just to hurt the other or so caught up in our rage that it's true even for the fleeting moment "I don't love you anymore." Eventually Katsuki believes it doesn't go the route of angry sex. He'll start packing his shit and I won't say anything. Just sit on the couch and emotionally pull away. Thinking I'll be so fucking happy when the house is quiet and he's gone, sleeping on Kirishima's couch and he'd done it before, he'd wait til we both cool down before he comes home. He'd open the door and we both apologize the second we see each other.
But something is different about it this time, this time there is a finality to it and when he slams the door shut, the pictures of us rattling in their frames, I do what I always do and push it away until I can't stand to even sit with myself anymore.
Izuku would just take the rage and anger, just like he did growing up with Kaachan, the rage he can handle but the depression, well he doesn't know what the fuck to do. Izuku has tried everything, helping me find an outlet, exercise, taking me to appointments I always cancel. Literally trying to help me as best he can but you really can't save someone from their mental illness and it's a little difficult for him to wrap his head around some days. And soon he'll get tired of battling something he can never win, he'll place the blame on himself, he isn't good enough, can't make me happy enough, I deserve someone who can actually be my hero. He will slowly pull away and I'll notice, oh I'll notice and I'll pretend it doesn't hurt because it happens eventually with everyone anyway. I try to show less symptoms around him, to be more normal but it doesn't fix it and eventually we turn into strangers who happen to be roommates. He'll break up with me, he'll be gentle and he'll have even called some of my friends to show up after he leaves. He'll leave me the stuff he bought because I like it or still use it, he'll have paid everything for the rest of the lease and he'll reassure me that it was him and not me when I know damn well it was me.
Nagi would continue to choose video games over me and I would turn off the internet for attention and if he had a work around to that I'd cut the power cords to his shit. Eventually soccer will take over as a priority, I'll lie and say I'm fine with that until one day I just stop showing up to his matches all together, he's stopped looking for me in the crowd three games ago and to be honest he doesn't notice until someone else points out that I haven't been there for half the season.
Hakuji 😔 I would push this man away so many times. String him along if we weren't dating because I'd be so selfish with him, I don't want him to be with anyone else but I know I'm not the best match for him. That he deserves better and that someone else would really eat up his princess treatment that he gives his s/o. Eventually I'd just ghost him and it'd take him a minute to decide to let go and when I see him with a pretty girl that doesn't look anything like me or act anything like me, I'd be bitter as hell. She'd be soft and kind, gentle and the epitome of feminity and I'd myself that I was right, that I was never his type in the first place.
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𝐝𝐚𝐦𝐧𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧.
summary: uncle eren comes to visit.
warnings: step-cest, jealousy, manipulation, hints of verbal/emotional abuse + touch of dubcon to con, reader feels guilty, grinding/dry-humping, overstimulation, orgasm denial, unprotected sex
author's note: part two of sole salvation. i really hope everyone enjoys this! the warnings are just to be on the safe side as i do not want to accidentally trigger anyone, please feel free to message me if you want to ask about something before reading.
tagging @sangwoos-mom & @divine-delight :)
If Zeke didn’t want my interest to get piqued, Eren thinks to himself as he watches you stroll away, off to get him to a fresh cup of lemonade, he should have kept his mouth shut.
When his brother had mentioned his new fiancee had a daughter, Eren had supposed it would be some spoiled, bratty kid. After all, he had met your mother once before, and he didn’t think that kind of a woman could raise someone even remotely well-behaved.
So given that, he was more than pleasantly surprised the first time he met you. It was all a shock, from the almost angelic way you float down the stairs to greet him, your soft skin and sweet smile, to the genuine look in your eyes when you tell him that you’re glad to finally meet him.
He still doesn’t know what Zeke did to deserve you in his life, the taste in his mouth a touch too bitter when he watches the way you look at his brother, even when your mom is in the same room. It’s dreamy, as though there’s no better way to spend your time and nothing better to think about than your step-father.
It’s a little unfair, Eren thinks, that Zeke has a sweet, doting little thing head over heels for him. It’s a little unfair that Zeke waited so long to invite him over, to introduce him to you. Maybe it was brotherly instinct, maybe he knew that once Eren met you, he wouldn’t be able to think about anything else, just like it had been for Zeke.
Regardless of what it was, Eren knew one thing for certain. Sibling should always share.
It finally takes an unbearable conversation on the phone with your mother for an excuse, an opportunity to arise. The lie is taking hold in his head and spilling out of his mouth before he can even control it—“Yeah, the pipes burst and it’s just a mess, I called Zeke but his phone’s off- no, really? Just for the weekend, I promise- thank you, I’ll be over soon.”
His bag is packed and cock is twitching at the idea of getting you alone in that house, maybe when Zeke’s locked away in his office and your mother’s out shopping. It’s going to be a hot week, with almost intolerable heat, and he’s positive it’ll have you in revealing clothes (no doubt ones that his brother bought for you) and teensy swimsuits when you go for an afternoon swim.
That’s what he’s thinking of—the image of you soaked to the bone, wet hair and the thin, dripping material of your suit sticking to your skin—when he pulls into your driveway later that day.
It’s almost easy enough to miss the slight wobble in your steps, the way your clothes are just a little too wrinkled for someone that’s been sitting around the house all day.
But Eren notices it, of course, and doesn’t miss the way Zeke practically keeps one eye on you the entire day, no matter who he’s talking to, either.
Maybe if Eren was just a drop stupider, a bit less cunning, you and Zeke could get away with all of it, but he’s not. He thinks it’s his turn to have his fun with you.
Your mother’s even more intolerable than he remembers. He wonders how bad a family dinner could be, but this is much worse than he could have fathomed. It’s a whole host of things, like how she’s oblivious to the affair happening right under her nose and her small comments that have your lips trembling and eyes blinking away tears before they can fall.
Jeez. Eren had initially felt bad for himself, but he’s starting to wonder how you put up with it. Maybe fucking around with Zeke is your own way of getting revenge, payback for every ‘Why do you look so tired, it’s not like you’re the one working all day’ and ‘Don’t you have plans with friends, or are you just gonna bother your parents all day?’
By the time dinner ends, you’ve made your way to the kitchen almost automatically, putting away dishes and wiping counters without even being told, as Zeke gives your mother a cold, hard stare.
“Was all that really necessary?” his brother questions quietly, eyes fuming with anger yet still disguising his true reason for being upset.
“What?” your mother responds innocently, pretending as though she hadn’t said anything wrong. Eren watches the interaction carefully. He thinks it’d be better if he didn’t interject on a married couple’s little spat, but here he goes again, words out before he can control them. They’re spoken a bit louder than they needed to be, but he wants to make sure you hear them over the running water.
“I don’t know, she seems like a good girl to me, no? Maybe you should be easier on her.”
And a few feet away, in the kitchen, your heart skips a beat. Uncle Eren—who you’d only met once and heard about a handful of times, someone who doesn’t owe you anything, someone not even really related to you—defending you?
It was enough to make tears rush to your eyes again, a smile on your face as you rinse off the dishes.
Good girl. The words run through your head again, seemingly on repeat. They’re your two favorite words, enough to pick you up from the dark, sullen headspace you’re in as a result of your mother’s cruel phrases and Zeke’s stinging silence.
Zeke claims it’ll become too obvious, even to your clueless mother, if he always takes your side and speaks up for you, despite how much he wants to, he says. You’re so hopelessly gone, so devoted to him that you don’t think you have it in you to fight for it. The words he says when the two of you are alone, how he makes you feel and spoils you rotten makes up for it, right?
That’s what you’d been telling yourself all this time, but you’re not sure how much longer you can keep the act going. Does he think it’s easy to watch him walk into the bedroom he shares with your mother every night? To watch her kiss him goodbye, hold onto his arm in public, while you trail behind like a lost puppy?
It’s not actually revenge you’re aiming for, when you start greeting Eren in the morning brightly, walking straight on over to him in the living room rather than the kitchen where your step-father is. It’s closer to a plea for attention, like you’re waiting for Zeke to realize you can play at this game too.
Eren’s more than happy to indulge you, spending hours of the day beside you on the couch watching movies, or watering the lawn while you work on your garden, claiming that he just wants to help out around the house as much as he can. His weekend-long visit turns into a week, as the ‘good for nothing contractors are taking their sweet time.’
It’s terribly easy to make you believe every word he’s saying, with you even defending him when Zeke asks how much longer he’s planning on sticking around.
“He’s family,” you had argued valiantly, leaving your step-father with narrowed eyes and a tense jaw as he noticed Eren smiling behind you. For once, your mother had agreed with you, and Zeke was left with no choice.
It’s sunny and warm when Eren’s opportunity, the one he’s been waiting for patiently, appears. Your mother’s gone out again, this time to the salon, there’s that hour of time right after she’s left that you usually treasure, because you know there’s no chance she’ll be on her way back or call home.
It’s usually your favorite time of the day, when you know you can have Zeke all to yourself, and that’s what you’re thinking, when you hesitantly make your way to the door of his office.
Truly, you hadn’t meant to make Zeke angry, you just wanted to be there for Uncle Eren how he was there for you. You were ready to make up and forget about it now, dolled up in a new sundress that you hadn’t gotten a chance to wear yet. Zeke had bought it only weeks ago, before Uncle Eren’s sudden visit, and you thought he might like it if you wore it now.
Your hand has just reached the cool metal of the doorknob, just about to twist when you hear a ringing from inside the room, of Zeke’s phone going off.
You step back, knowing better than to interrupt one of his calls. You’re disheartened a little, mind wondering why he would schedule something when you and he both know this is your hour, your chance to be alone.
You make your way back downstairs, lingering on the last step and thinking about going back up in a few minutes, when Uncle Eren’s voice calls to you from the living room, making you jump a little.
“Oh, sorry, sweetheart, I didn’t mean to scare you,” he says, voice calm and quiet, a contrast to your thudding heart.
“That’s okay, Uncle Eren,” you say, and your head turns back to look in the direction of Zeke’s office inadvertently. “I was just-”
“Waiting for Daddy, huh?” Your lips part a little in surprise, confused by his implication. Though surely, Zeke wouldn’t have told Uncle Eren anything. No, he wouldn’t do that.
Right?
“I-I just needed to ask him something, but I think he’s on the phone with someone,” you say quietly, confused at Eren’s tone, the confidence with which he spoke those words, almost mockingly.
“Oh, yeah. He told me he’s busy all afternoon, something or other about work and a report-” Eren stops himself right when he notices your expression change, looking thoroughly upset that Zeke was busy when you were ripe for the taking. “He didn’t tell you about that?”
Fuel to the fire, maybe a bit too much, but Eren doesn’t care. Not as long as you keep it up, looking like a maimed little prey upon realizing that Daddy was too busy for you.
Yes, Eren was getting much better with the lying. It doesn’t even register to you to question his words, to go back up and double check, that Zeke might, in fact, be waiting for you to knock on his door at this very second.
Your feet find their way to the sofa, slumping down dejectedly, as Eren sits right next to you. It’s the way you two have been sitting for the past week, except he’s ready to take the risk. His hand finds your knee, thumb rubbing the soft skin as you let out a shaky breath, wiping away a stray tear.
“All afternoon?” comes your quiet voice, trembling at the mere notion that Zeke was upset with you. You hadn’t meant to take it this far, hadn’t thought he would be ignoring you just because you disagreed with something he said for the first time.
But your sadness is turning into something different when you look at the hungry, almost predatory way Uncle Eren is looking at you now.
“That’s what he said, sweetheart. Did you two have plans, or something?” It’s coming off nonchalant, or so he hopes, because every bone in his body is excited at the prospect before him, blood rushing to his hardening cock as he catches a glimpse of your exposed skin as you fiddle with the hem of your dress.
“N-no, I just… He always spends time with me when mom leaves. I just thought he would be free.”
It’s the sweet, lonely way you’re looking into his eyes, your own doe-like and watery, that tips him over the edge.
“Well, I can keep you company.”
“R-really?”
“Yeah, baby. A sweet thing like you shouldn’t be left all alone… it’s not right, well, at least to me.”
“Yeah?” Eren nods his head, line between his lies and the truth blurring suddenly as you inch closer and closer to him.
“I wouldn’t treat you like that, if you were mine, you know-” and he can’t finish his sentence, because your hands are on the collar of his shirt and you’re shifting onto his lap, and your lips are on each other.
It’s stupid, you know, to be so easily guided by a few choice words, putty in virtually anyone’s hands if they say the right things and make you feel seen and heard, but you can’t stop now.
Eren’s tongue is in your mouth, your lips practically glued together as you feel his hands go under the soft cotton of your dress, exploring the supple skin of your thighs. It’s not long before his hands find your ass, squeezing and groping as moan into his mouth.
A sharp slap to your ass makes you yelp, pulling away for just a second before Eren’s hand is on the back of your neck, guiding you into a kiss again. You moan again, louder, when his teeth bite down on your lip just a little bit, when Eren finally pulls away.
“Can’t be too loud, remember, sweetheart? Daddy’s busy upstairs,” he says, somehow knowing exactly what would rile you up. The words act like a little shock running through your system, making you even more eager for Eren’s touch.
“Don’t care-!” you mewl, head going fuzzy when you feel Eren’s hard cock grind against your core, waves of pleasure rushing through your body. You’re still, Eren’s hand coming up to cover your mouth as he continues his rocking movement, making you moan against his hand.
Your eyes roll back when Eren increases his speed, and it’s silly, how the barely-there contact is making you shake, the coil in your stomach tense and unwinding, when Eren stops completely.
You whine loudly, muffled some by his hand, but not entirely, causing Eren to spank you again.
“I thought you were a good girl, hm? Don’t get bratty on me now,” he says, though he thinks it went in one ear and out the other as you come down from your incomplete high.
“I want-I want you, Uncle Eren, now-!” Another whine, another spank. You cry out again, until the fourth slap—which leaves your ass sore already from Eren’s heavy-handedness—silences you.
“Sweetheart, stop misbehaving or you’re not gonna get anything, okay?” he coos, fingers finding your chin and directing your face to look him in the eyes. They’re lust-blown too, and his hardness is still evident underneath your body, but your body’s inclined to follow his rules, despite how badly you want to cum.
“Yes, Uncle Eren,” you say softly, your squirming body finally stopping. Eren’s fingers find their way to the thin straps of your sundress, pulling them until they rest on your shoulder and expose your neck and collar to him.
“Tell me something, baby, did you wear this for me? Or for him?” The very mention of Zeke makes your body stiffen, but you’re still desperate for more and eager to please Uncle Eren.
“For you,” you mumble, wanting to just bury your head in the crook of Eren’s neck and feel him inside you, though you know you won’t get what you want that easily.
“Me? I’m so honored,” he says, letting out a laugh at how your body shakes in anticipation but you stay completely still. He wonders if Zeke had to teach you to be this obedient, or if it just comes to you naturally.
He thinks it’s the latter when he rolls his hips quickly, watching you squirm and bite your lip hard to keep quiet, another rush of pleasure coursing through you, though it’s not nearly enough.
“It’s okay, baby, you’ve been good enough to me, haven’t you?” he asks, and you nod your head quickly. “You deserve to feel good, don’t you?” You nod again and let out a shaky breath when Eren moves your hips with his hands, finally giving you the much-needed pressure on your clit.
“Why don’t you cum for me, baby, just like this? Mmh?” You’re letting out little squeals at each contact, hips moving faster and faster as Eren lays back and lets you use his cock as a toy to grind against. His head falls back at how good it feels, though he won’t let himself cum until he’s inside you.
You’re close again, stomach tensing again and that familiar feeling gathering inside your chest, making you feel warm all over as you speed up.
The breaking point is when Eren’s hands come to your chest, pulling down your dress and exposing your tits to the cool air. His fingers pinch one while his mouth finds the other, and suddenly you can’t keep quiet no matter how hard you try, moans spilling out your mouth as well as repeated cries of Uncle Eren, that sound sweet as sugar to Eren.
It’s when Eren starts bucking his hips up too, that you finally cum, a bolt of pleasure running through your entire body as he keeps going. You’re not entirely sure what kind of noises you’re making—everything seems to be muted and fuzzy as repeated shocks make you shake, Eren’s firm grip on your tits being the only thing that’s grounding you.
When you finally come down, forcing yourself away from Eren’s lap and legs pressed tightly together to calm your oversensitive cunt, there’s a lecherous look in Eren’s eyes. It’s screaming to you, silently, how he’s not done with you yet.
“Aw, baby, look how fast you came just from a little bit of humping. Are you that desperate, bunny? Is Daddy not taking care of you?”
Your face feels like it might be on fire, blood and heat rushing at the same time and burning quickly with shame at the realization that Eren knew all along, that he’s been playing this little game with you since his arrival and you never, not once, had the upper hand.
He feels more predatory than ever before, spreading your legs despite how your legs ache and your core is burning—even if you wanted more, you don’t think you could take it—but it doesn’t seem like Eren cares.
“U-uncle Eren, we shouldn’t- h-he might-” you start, but are cut off as Eren presses a finger to your lips.
“Sweetheart, isn’t that a little unfair? If you get to cum, and I don’t? Be a good girl and spread for me,” he says, and you feel your body comply automatically.
Your back’s on the couch now, Eren hovering over you. All it would take is a few steps in this direction after coming down the stairs for someone to find you, but you can hardly care when Eren’s shoving your dress up, exposing your panties and shoving them to the side, your wetness on display for him.
“One day, baby, when Daddy’s not here, I’m gonna fuck you stupid with my tongue—just not today,” and the words go straight to your head. Your heart thuds uncomfortably in your chest every time he mentions Zeke, a sense of guilt washing over you and replacing the pleasure you feel, but you forget all about it when you see Eren undos his pants and take out his hardened cock.
It’s plainly wrong to compare it to Zeke’s, and though it might not be longer, it’s definitely thicker, not as pretty but covered in throbbing veins that you can’t even imagine feeling inside you.
Eren’s about to grant your wish, running his cockhead over your sensitive clit once, twice, and just as you're expecting a third, he pushes inside of you.
A strangled, loud moan escapes your lips before he can cover your mouth again. It’s agonizing, not being able to make a sound as your step-uncle fucks you into the couch, movements picking up and a steady pace filling the room with obscene noises. You can’t see where the two of you are connected, since your eyes are locked with Eren’s pretty green ones, but you know you’re making a mess.
It’s like nothing you’ve ever felt before, every thrust stretching you out, you think he’s ruined your cunt for anyone else—but that’s exactly what he wants.
It’s silent, save for the heavy patter of Eren’s balls against your ass with each thrust, the sound of his hips knocking with yours. He’s trying to keep his grunts silent, but it’s getting harder and harder with the way you’re clenching around him, so tight and wet and soft, he wonders what his brother did to deserve someone like you—he wonders why he doesn’t spend every minute inside you.
Your sensitive cunt tightens around him, knowing only another few strokes and grazes on your clit will be enough to tip you into your second orgasm. Your shaky hand finds Eren’s, pulling his wrist away from your face and meeting his lips again, releasing muffled moans into his mouth.
You know he’s close too, from the way his pace picks up, and you pull away just for a second, just to say three words.
“Please, Uncle Eren.”
And it’s enough to make his hips stutter, enough to uncoil the knot in your tense stomach and have your orgasm washing over you, as you feel Eren fill your cunt with his hot cum. Your lips are on each other, the lewd squelching of his slowing thrusts matching the small squeaks you release, until he finally pulls out and your panties snap back over your leaking cunt.
It’s hard to catch your breath, from your position laying down, feeling your tight hole throb and Eren��s cum spill out, probably onto the sofa seat. You adjust the top of your dress, covering your tits and pulling one strap up. When you’re fixing the skirt, you feel Eren’s hands pull the other strap onto your shoulder, hands lingering on your exposed skin.
You shy away from looking at him, despite how his cum is still inside you. It feels too intimate, almost, because a part of you thinks you were taken advantage of, and another part of you doesn’t ever want Eren to leave you.
Eren’s fingers find your chin, forcing you to look up and meet his gaze. You blink quickly, licking your swollen lips and biting the inside of your cheek nervously.
Neither of you speak, though you know what’s lingering in the air. You can tell he’s gotten what he wanted, and he’s going to leave, and yet you can’t stop yourself from speaking first, throat scratchy and dry and your words nothing more than a whisper.
“C-can I… did you- did you mean all those things you said? Before?”
And suddenly Eren understands everything, why you’re this way, why you need to be validated so badly, why his brother’s such a good match for you. He thinks he’d sacrifice anything too, like his marriage and a new life, just to make you happy.
“Of course I did, sweetheart. I meant every word of it.”
“Really?” There’s a soft smile on your lips, your eyes watery and he thinks it doesn’t have anything to do with how hard he fucked you.
“Yeah, I-”
“Well, what do we have here?” Zeke’s voice comes from behind you.
#... uh yeah <3 step uncle eren#eren yeager#eren jaeger#eren yeager imagine#eren yeager smut#eren yeager x reader#eren x reader#eren smut#eren jaeger smut#eren jaeger imagine#eren jaeger x reader#aot#fics#tw step cest#tw dubcon
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4 times you faked a relationship + 1 time you didn’t; m.tkachuk
WARNINGS: language.
WORD COUNT: 17.2k.
A/N: So, I didn’t want my effort for this fic to go to waste and I’ve decided to re-write it for Matty because he and the fake dating trope work so well together. I had to, so here it is.
one.
“I’d only be asking Matthew if I had no other options and needed a last resort,” you said. “Until then, I’m not even contemplating it.”
“Kind of sounds like you’ve just about reached the bottom of your list, right around where you’re keeping Matthew, Y/N,” your friend, Anna, responded and though her tone said sympathy, the look on her face reflected anything but sheer elation.
The invitation landed on your tabletop with a loud slap while you deposited yourself in a nearby chair unceremoniously, glaring at the decorative paper as if it offended you. Actually, scratch that. It did offend you. Greatly so. Honestly, it may as well have come in the form of one of those boxing gloves that sprung out of a box immediately upon opening and decked you square in the face. That’s how much it offended you.
The golden letters inked on the thick paper warmly requested the pleasure of your company to witness the love of Josh Reynolds to Louise Jones six weeks from now. The location stated was a hotel you knew only through word of mouth: one of those fancy establishments that served ridiculously priced plates that were more canapes than actual meals.
You doubted there would be much pleasure from your company.
You and Josh called it quits just over a year ago after a relationship that became increasing rockier, significantly more emotionally exhausting. The two of you started dating in high school and if the relationship started off with nothing but the sort of blinding fiery passion only teens could be capable of, well someone missed the memo on giving you the message that all fires eventually fizzle out. Gradually, it was the only way you could see your relationship heading and it seemed that Josh felt it too. It made the breakup easier: it was neat and mutual. Still, that couldn’t be considered an incentive for either of you to invite each other to such grand, deeply personal events. You couldn’t help but feel a little hurt that he found someone he wanted to tie the knot with so quickly but in retrospect, Josh had always wanted that while you were content as you were. That seemed to be the fork in your road with him.
On the one hand, you were angry at Josh for even considering jotting your name down on the list of attendees and on the other, you were angry at yourself for being angry about that. One moment you were dead set on declining the invite and the next, you considering that doing that would simply show you were bitter and unable to be civil about it. Besides, surely it was noted somewhere in the Rulebook of Ex’s that you just couldn’t do stuff like that. That seemed to just about do it. Like hell you’d given anyone the satisfaction of one-upping you.
You needed a plus one. Desperately.
“Ask your brother then. Pretty sure that’s bound to impress anyone there. It’s not often many will get to say they brushed shoulders with an up-and-coming professional athlete.”
“I don’t need that sort of plus one. If I did, I would’ve asked you—”
“Thanks,” Anna mumbled.”
“—but what I need,” you ploughed on ahead, “is, well, something that can come off a bit more serious looking.”
She rolled her eyes. “Saying the word boyfriend won’t jinx you into permanent silence, you know. You need a boyfriend.”
“A boyfriend for a day,” you agreed contemplatively.
She picked up the invitation to look through it carefully and after concluding her inspection, she slapped the papers back down on the table, grinning. “Matthew it will be then!”
Your younger brother, Jake, recently signed his entry-level contract with the Calgary Flames, in a way carrying forward the family tradition of starting a career in professional sports with them. Your grandfather did, your father did and now, here you were watching your little brother take on the mantle. Your family’s involvement in sport and, specifically, the team meant that you were somewhat familiar with the organization whether that meant attending home games or a few events arranged by the team. You couldn’t say you were the best of friends with them, certainly nowhere near the level your brother was, but generally speaking you were fond of the C of Red.
That couldn’t also be said about Matthew, however.
It seemed that from the get-go, there was a personality clash between you. At first, you thought it was just Matthew picking on you, joking around as he disagreed with virtually anything you’d say but progressively, you were pretty sure the two of you didn’t even have the compatibility to keep things civil. Matthew had a way with pushing your buttons and it bothered you he could do that with so much ease, though the more you thought of it, the more it shouldn’t have come as a surprise to you: you were all too familiar with his on-ice shenanigans, after all. Whenever you knew you had to be under the same roof as him, you’d tell yourself to not let him get under your skin but that resolve would last for all of ten minutes. Fifteen if you had a particularly good day.
Much to your chagrin, it seemed your brother was closest to Matthew. Though you offered the spare room in your apartment, your brother was so warmly welcomed by Matthew. It was no doubt even Jake found your annoyance with his teammate entertaining.
The thought alone was frustrating enough. If one day, by chance, you caught sight of a white strand of hair on your head, you were dead set on blaming Matthew for it. Matthew and his smarmy attitude; Matthew and his smartass retorts; Matthew and the smirks he threw your way whenever your brother took his side, outnumbering you.
You clenched your teeth, glaring at the invite. From the corner of your eye, you saw Anna’s outstretched hand holding your phone out to you. A groan formed in your throat and you wished you kept in contact with the handful of guys you tried dating after Josh. None really stayed. Or better said, none managed to draw you in. It was as if Josh had put a jinx on you. If that was the case, you hoped that this whammy would disappear if it meant watching him watch someone else walk down the aisle towards him.
Anna waved the device at you insistently. “Do it. Come on. Even you know nothing says fuck you like turning up there with Matthew. Scrappy when he wants to be and he’s not bad to look at either. You know it.”
You arched an eyebrow up at her. “More than Johnny?”
She flushed visibly. Johnny and Anna were still a relatively new thing, dancing around their relationship carefully as if they were both doing this rodeo for the first time. It was pretty cute. “Don’t change the subject.” She placed the device down on the table in front of you then patted your shoulder. “I have a feeling you won’t regret it. If he gets on your nerves too much, well…it can’t be worse than watching your ex get married, right?”
“Ouch,” you winced, but chuckled, knowing you were defeated. Matthew was the last resort, and you knew you were at the bottom of your list before you even started going through it. “You do realize if he declines, I’ll probably make a start on packing my bags and moving to Montana, right? The only time you’ll hear from me is when my handwritten letter goes through the nine circles of hell that is our postal service.”
Anna fixed you with a stare that could only read as ‘do it’. “I wouldn’t be so insistent on this if I knew Matthew would say no. I have a feeling he’ll surprise you.”
With a heavy sigh, you unlocked your phone and scrolled through your list of contacts, thumb hovering over his name when it came up. Anna wasn’t wrong: Matthew wasn’t bad to look at all, that much you could admit. But god, if he turned you down…. you knew you wouldn’t be able to ever show your face in front of him or the rest of the team ever again.
“I think I’ve had enough surprises from him to last a lifetime,” you mumbled but tapped the call symbol anyway.
He answered on the third ring. “Hel—
You didn’t let him finish. “I need your help,” you ground out, eyes closing while you rubbed at your forehead with the tips of your fingers.
There was silence on the other end of the line that had you biting your lip in anxiousness. You shouldn’t have done this. You really shouldn’t have done this. All it would take would be just hitting the ‘resume my account’ link on one of the dating apps you signed up for a while ago. Someone was bound to be attracted not only to you but the promise of an open bar—
“Music to my ears,” Matthew’s response came through. You could practically hear the smile in his voice and knew you’d regret it; you could easily tell from the tone of his voice.
You sighed quietly, leaning forward to rest your elbows on the table, eyes glued to the invitation. Fuck it, you could get someone else; easily, no doubt. The world of online dating was vast and there would always be takers.
“Uh, yeah actually, never mind—”
“No, no. Come on, Y/N. Pretty sure this is the first time you’re calling me first so can we take a moment to just let that sink in?” Silence again, then a chuckle. “Okay, now that we did. How can I help you?”
It wasn’t as if Josh had put you in the position to ask Matthew for a favor but still: fuck Josh, anyway. In a split second of sheer pettiness, you considered aiming to host the most extravagant, unforgettable weddings when your turn would come just to show him who does it better.
“Are you free the third weekend in June?” you asked tiredly.
“Don’t know. Depends what for and who you’re asking for.”
You should’ve asked him face-to-face. At least then, he would’ve had the chance to see you roll your eyes, turn on your heel and walk away. “I’m obviously asking for myself. Could you just be straightforward for once and answer yes or no? You’re making me hold the line for longer than I anticipated and I’m happy to ask someone else,” you lied.
“Let me get this right—” Here comes, you thought exhausted. “You’re calling me for the first time since you have my number to ask me if I’m free the third weekend in June? As a favor for yourself.”
“Matthew, I didn’t stutter—”
“What’s happening in June?”
You don’t know what it was about his words that downed you. It was nothing but a simple question yet the only thing you could think of was: the first boy I’ve dated and so far, the only one, seems to have moved on quicker than I anticipated and while I’m still trying to build myself back up, I’m sitting in my kitchen looking at a wedding invitation and wallowing in self-pity because regardless of how hard I try, of how much I’ve amended my standards, no one seems to do it so what if this is it for me? What if this is just the way it’ll be from now on? And now, I’m resorting to lying just to make myself feel better but also put a façade in front of someone who I know no longer cares about me like that. And really, nor do I about him but here we are. So, nothing much is happening in June, Matthew. Hopefully we get a lot more sunshine though!
What you responded with instead was, “just an old friend of mine getting married and I need a plus one. Nothing serious. Just go there for an hour or two, say some hellos and leave. It’s a quick in-and-out thing.”
More silence on the other end of the line other than the muffled shuffle of what sounded like bedsheets. “Why not ask your brother then?”
“Asked him already, said he’s got something lined up already. So, are you free or not?” you lied, quickly pressing on even if you knew that sounded a lot like desperation.
“For you, at a price.” He was smirking. You knew he was and more than ever, you wished 2021 was the year you could just reach through the phone and shake the person on the other end.
“Uh-huh. Right. No, just forget it. Forget I even—”
You were going to end the call when Matthew laughed, quickly calling out a “no, no! Nothing weird, I promise. Just owe me a favor in return, is all.”
“Do I get a choice?” you mumbled, more to yourself than towards him.
“I think we both know that you don’t. Text me the time and place,” he instructed and then, just as you were really about to end the call, he added, “hey, send me a photo of what you’re wearing also. I’ll match my tie to your dress, free of charge.”
“Can you maybe ditch the jacket while you’re at it? Just want to make sure your tie’s within reach so I can strangle you with it.”
Even after you cut the call, Matthew’s laughter rang in your ears.
-
Matthew matched his tie to your red dress. The color of the silk around his neck was so striking, you would swear it was made from the same material as your outfit. You sent him a photo of the material of the dress, more as a joke than having any expectations attached to it so you were pleasantly surprised to see he made the effort. For a moment, you allowed yourself to bask in sheer joy knowing that to any eye, the two of you could easily pass as a couple. At least, from looks alone if not from attitude. You were a proud person; fiercely so. Knowing you were now in debt to Matthew however he saw fit dealt a pretty impressive blow to your ego. You don’t let yourself linger too much on that thought, though. It was already difficult enough to loosen up and relax your stance as you climbed into Matthew’s car as soon as he texted you of his arrival.
“You look good,” he commented after you fixed the seatbelt on. He turned in his seat as much as space would allow so he could look at you properly and in return, you arched an eyebrow, refusing to give way to his stare. “Are you trying to one-up the bride?”
“Ha, ha. Funny. You didn’t even see the bride. I didn’t even see the bride.”
“Didn’t see her but I’m seeing you, so,” he shrugged, by way of explanation before correcting his position.
If asked, you wouldn’t deny that Matthew also looked good. Very good. But only if asked. It was impossible that someone with a face like that didn’t know they turned heads easily wherever they went. Matthew’s suit fit him as if it was sown on him. If the two of you had a better relationship, you would even dare ask him what it was he was putting in that hair of his that made it so shiny and gave those curls so much definition, taming them almost perfectly when he really put his mind to it. Whatever it was, you had a feeling he didn’t strain as much as you had earlier that morning to tame your hair and though you could give yourself credit for how well it turned out, your arms weren’t thanking you for it.
Thankfully, much of the drive was pleasant. Though you hated small talk, you decided to make an effort if only to ease your nerves as the navigation system indicated you were drawing closer and closer to that glitzy hotel. You learned that although the season was over, Matthew, Brady and the rest of the family would spend a few weeks in Canada before heading back home to St. Louis. In turn, you told him that some of the days off you booked from work would be spent somewhere just as sunny and warm but with more beaches. It was safe ground. That, you could do although progressively, you were becoming more and more distracted, and less focused on the conversation the two of you managed to keep.
“Want me to pull over?” Matthew asked suddenly.
“What,” you mumbled, turning your attention from the road ahead to Matthew who seemed amused by the situation. “Why would I want you to do that?”
“I’d want you to do that. You look pretty pale and honestly, I’ve just had the interior cleaned so—”
“Fuck you, Tkachuk, keep driving. I’m just a little…cold. How high do you have the AC on?”
He fixed you with a stare while waiting for the lights ahead to turn green, eyebrow arched. “It’s June, Y/N, and uncomfortably warm. If it makes you feel better, though, I could turn it off and we can roll down the windows instead?”
“No, sorry—you’re right. It’s fine. Just leave the AC as it is.”
The laugh he gave was nothing short of incredulous. “Repeat that back for me. Actually—hold on, do that when I can press record on my phone so I can have that on repeat. Did you admit I’m right?”
“God, you’re making me regret inviting you,” you muttered though without heat.
An uncomfortable silence slipped between the two of you or maybe, it was just your perspective on it. Matthew seemed perfectly at ease minding the road, only occasionally throwing a cursory glance towards the car’s navigation system whenever it announced a turn. Doing this seemed more and more like a bad idea. A terrible one. No one would’ve held it against you if you denied the invitation. In fact, you thought that was more expected than accepting it and turning up to the party as if you were seeing an old friend, not an ex-boyfriend. It wasn’t too late though. Matthew could still turn the car around.
“Listen, Matt—”
“You have now reached your destination. Your destination is on the right.”
You released a breath you weren’t even aware of holding, then threw a quick look towards the main entrance of the hotel. Already, a few guests whom you recognized were crossing into the lobby.
“You really don’t look okay at all,” Matthew repeated and there was less humor in his voice and more concern this time around. Even you weren’t ignorant to how much your mood kept fluctuating over the course of the drive: often, engaged in conversation but occasionally, withdrawn, barely just catching on to whatever it was Matthew was saying. Sure, he probably didn’t know you well enough to read you, but it didn’t take a genius to figure out something was amiss. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but I felt like there’s more to this thing than you’re telling me. You could’ve asked your brother, yet you didn’t—”
Damn it. You made him swear to play along. You made a quick mental note to get back at him about it whenever you felt energized enough to do so.
“Matthew,” you said, your voice suddenly clear, tone neutral. You didn’t dare look him in the eyes so instead, you kept your stare fixed on the revolving doors ahead. “I’m only going to say this once and I hope that you won’t make me repeat it now or ever again. I’d prefer that you don’t mention it to anyone either. The person getting married today is my ex-boyfriend. Up until last year, we’ve been together since we were teenagers. I loved him. Since we broke up, I kept trying to look for parts of him in others, but I couldn’t find even a trace of who he was. I feel as I’ve been jinxed, and I felt that maybe if I come today, maybe if I see him with someone else, I can confidently say I’m fine with that. It hurt my pride when I received the invitation, so my first thought was to lie. If, for just a few hours, I can pretend I’ve also moved on and I’m not stuck in this…fucking weird limbo, then maybe it becomes true. A fucked up self-prophecy. So.” You pause, clearing your throat. Your mouth suddenly felt dry from your speech, yet you couldn’t feel a pang of regret in your chest or heat behind your eyes. “So. If you want out, that’s fine. After all, I’m asking you to pretend to be my date out of spite, I guess. And embarrassment. It’s childish and unfair and ridiculous but—”
You came to a halt when you felt a finger under your chin, and a gentle upward push forced you to raise your head up a little more. When you turned towards Matthew, you looked at him with a look of confusion on your face.
“Keep your head up. We have a wedding to go to.”
His encouragement sunk in faster than expected and as your expression relaxed, a smile formed on your face.
Yeah. The two of you had a wedding to go to.
-
The event hall was decorated minimally yet tastefully. It made everything seem even more personal and you received that impression from every detail: from the flower arrangements to the music, everything was a testament to a life united by love. Maybe your emotional outburst earlier accounted for it, but you felt lighter even as you watched the newlyweds glide along the floor for their first dance. Sure, you felt a desperate pang of want but it was distant. Muffled.
Despite your initial thoughts, having Matthew at your side felt very much like a safety cushion. It surprised you to watch him settle into his role with so much ease that eventually, even you didn’t have to remind yourself to not withdraw whenever his arm wrapped around your waist: sometimes loosely, sometimes a little tighter, reeling you in closer.
Fish, here is your bait, you thought wildly as you stood tucked at his side while he accepted flatteries from one of the guests who swore had been a fan of the Calgary Flames since before he could even talk.
“You must be so proud,” the man turned towards you. “Your family’s truly one of a kind to have all played for the team and now—” He gestures towards Matthew as if to say all of this. “Must be something about those Flames!”
You laughed tightly, just as Matthew squeezed your side. By that move alone, you could tell he was eating this up.
“Yeah, just can’t get enough of them,” you concluded, pitching your voice just a little higher towards the end. To the man, it was as genuine as could be, but Matthew cautioned you silently with the slightest narrowing of his eyes, effectively warning you to be more realistic. “Hey, I’ll get us some refills? Try to be a little more inconspicuous in the meantime. Remember this isn’t your day,” you joked.
“Only practicing for when our turn comes,” Matthew responded without missing a beat and released the hold he had on you.
Once at the bar, you allowed yourself some extra moments to catch your breath. Even off ice, Matthew was a force to be reckoned with. He struck conversation with others easily, drew their attention with seemingly little effort and easily set the mood for whatever situation or person the two of you would run into. A part of you thought his profession had a lot to do with his mannerism, but a bigger part knew different: mostly, it was really just Matthew.
He had a way with words and with people that you haven’t been witness to before and couldn’t help but wonder if it was all show. He was, after all, a face for the public: familiar with interviews, familiar with the attention, apparently not overwhelmed even by less conventional questions. Watching him play this role was fascinating to say the least. It certainly took your mind off the circumstances so credit where credit was due.
“Hey, it’s good to see you here.”
You turned from the bar and came face to face with Josh. His jacket was off, and his sleeves were neatly rolled up past his elbows; behind the knot of his tie, you could see he’d undone the top button of the collar. You’d seen him make countless rounds across the entire floor, greeting guests and ensuring everything was running smoothly. Occasionally, you watched him dance either with his wife, or family members, or even guests you recognized as work colleagues.
You smiled. “Thanks for the invite. It was a bit weird to receive it, I can’t lie about that, but I’m glad you sent it.” It surprised you to learn you weren’t even lying about that. Through the course of the evening, it dawned on you that maybe, it was more the thought of being here that made you anxious; the event itself, however, proved just how right you were. It felt…fine. You felt fine.
“Yeah—uh, I wasn’t… I wasn’t really sure but, well, before…” He trailed off into a sigh.
You chuckled softly. “Would you like to buy a vowel?”
That made him laugh. Truly, genuinely laugh. “Sorry. I guess it’s a bit weird for me also. But, well, before you and I were, well, you-and-I, we were friends. I would’ve hoped we’d still be friends even after…” He waved a hand in the air by way of explanation but that was sufficient for you.
“Won’t hurt to be friends. Whatever happened between us—well. Thing of the past. Build bridges and get over them, right?”
“Right. Function of a bridge and all.”
“Hey. Congratulations, by the way! I’m happy for you. Really. I wish the two of you all the best. She seems really great.”
“She is,” he agreed and cast a glance towards the room, eyes undoubtedly searching for her. “Are you—”
“Here you are.”
Saved by the bell. A weight fell around your waist that, by now, was warm and familiar. Unconsciously, you leaned into Matthew, flashing a wide smile at Josh. At first, he seemed surprised by the sudden appearance but then his features settled into something more comfortable; something so much like relief that for a moment, you wished you could just come clean about it. You and Matthew were less than meets the eye.
Before you could even introduce them, a kiss was pressed to your cheek, knocking all air from your lungs and almost making you choke because of it.
What the hell.
“You were gone for some time, so I thought to check on you,” Matthew informed you, all matter of fact. To Josh, he said, “congratulations on the wedding. Must be pretty great to finally get to this point. You two look great together.”
“Oh? Yeah. Yeah, thanks man. So glad you could come along today.” Josh turned to you, an eyebrow perked in interest. “I didn’t know you two were together.”
“Oh we’re just—”
You began but were promptly interrupted by Matthew. “We like to keep it lowkey. It hasn’t been that long for us but that’s not much of a problem when your gut tells you this is it. You know it well, right?”
You were entirely caught off guard. Instead of responding immediately, you bought yourself some time by taking a sip from your glass of—whatever it was. Strong though. Just perfect for the situation you suddenly found yourself in: ex-boyfriend ahead, fake boyfriend to the side, promising sweet nothings that you knew would come back to haunt you at some ungodly hour. You wished you could step on his shoe; pull on those shiny curls of his real quick, knock some sense back into him. There was a difference between play a role well and clearly, playing it too well.
Matthew pushed ahead. “It’s pretty good timing for us though. We could take some notes for when our turn comes, right babe?”
“I’ll let the two of you to it, then. Thanks again for coming.” Josh made a move to step away but before he did, he turned to you and caught your eyes. “I’m really happy for you, Y/N. You look good together. Just make sure you don’t take too many notes.”
“Wouldn’t dream to,” Matthew responded, and you could read the slight bite in his words. When Josh was out of earshot, he looked down at you. “You dated him? Just him?”
“Hey, what’d I say about not bringing that up again? And save your dick measuring contests for the locker room, Tkachuk. Now’s not the time nor place.”
“Now’s definitely the time and place,” he countered, making you roll your eyes but there was a smile on your face you couldn’t quite wipe off. “Come on. Let’s continue taking leaves out of their book.” In one swift motion, he took the glass from your hand and set it on the bar while above, the LED lights dimmed, and the playlist switched to a slower song.
You threw him a cautious look, easily reading where that was going. “I’m not dancing.”
“Sure, you are. You want to give the impression of being happily in love? You need to start pulling your weight in this thing.”
“Oh, I’m sorry, Atlas. Do your shoulders hurt from carrying the burden of our relationship?” you mocked, yet still allowed him to lead you towards the dance floor. Right in the center of it given the bride and groom appeared to sit this one out; you expected nothing less from him. You weren’t even surprised when he made an entire show out of it, forcing you to do a pirouette when the two of you claimed your spot.
“You can’t even imagine the pain you put me through,” he sighed near your ear as the two of you began swaying to the music.
“Well, you’re still standing so clearly it can’t be that bad.”
“Baby, it’s torture.”
You were grateful the two of you weren’t exactly face to face or you were sure Matthew would never have let you live down the flush you felt rising to your cheeks. Sure, he didn’t use the pet name in a genuine manner, but just hearing it roll off his tongue like that… You stopped that thought before it grew into a whole new different monster.
After a few moments of silence passed, Matthew lowered his head closer to yours, his warm breath colliding with the skin on your throat. “Do you think now’s the right time to kiss? Are enough people watching?”
You stepped on his foot. Not hard, but just with the right amount of pressure to draw a wince from him. Satisfied, you leaned back just a little to look at him properly. “Don’t even think about it, Tkachuk—”
“Thought about it already.”
Through clenched teeth, you hissed, “you. Are. Incorrigible.”
He raised his eyebrows, surprised. “If only you could meet yourself.”
You snickered quietly then leaned back against him. “Thanks for doing this. I know it’s not the most convenient of things… and it wasn’t fair to tell you the full truth of it right on the day of. But—well, thanks.”
“That sounds like it was pretty difficult to let out. It’s very…. heartfelt.”
“Just fucking accept it as I gave it to you, Tkachuk,” you complained, more amused than annoyed.
More silence followed, filled in only by the general buzz of the room and the slow melody. “And now?” Matthew questioned a short while later. You allowed an extended silence to fill in for your confusion. He picked up on it within seconds. “Do you still feel jinxed? Stuck in the same place while he goes on ahead in life?”
You took some time to think through your answer, time during which the song faded into yet another slow one. Matthew didn’t give an indication of wanting to move away from the dancefloor, so you saw no purpose in you doing that.
“Not really,” you concluded. “Just seems like we’re both following different trajectories. Doesn’t mean I’m left behind if I’ve not yet met someone to settle down with like he did. Maybe I just need to be here to come to terms with it. Good for him though. I’m genuinely happy for him and his wife. I think lots of people imagine going through this very same moment.” You ended with a shrug but then, to lighten up the moment, you added, “don’t mock me for it. Between the two of us, I’m the one with the pointy shoes.”
Matthew laughed, a low, pleasant laugh right by your ear. “I’ll give you a free pass for what’s left of today.”
“Your generosity astounds me. Please could you also sign my jersey?”
“Is it my jersey?”
“Why would it be your jersey when I have my last name printed out on one at the expense of my brother being roughed up a little?”
“Don’t tempt me. That favor you now owe me? I might just use it to have you get my jersey so I can sign it since you so generously asked.”
“Your call,” you shrugged. “Just know it’s going straight in the wash right after you scribble on it.”
Matthew took a few small steps back, only to pull you back towards him. You played along and spun as you landed into his hold once again.
“You say that now, but when you’ll see yourself with it—”
“I’ll auction it on eBay.”
The laugh you got out of Matthew stayed with you through the rest of the night and like never before, his good disposition easily transferred to you.
two.
When the elevator doors slid open, your brother and Johnny weren’t the only ones to step into the hotel lobby. Matthew accompanied them, flashing a smug smile as the trio approached and his eyes landed on you. You cast a quizzical glance from your brother, to Johnny, to Matthew and then looked towards Anna as if to ask are you seeing this? She only shrugged at you in silent response, though she was grinning from ear to ear. At least someone was certainly enjoying this.
“Last I remember, there were only two of you,” you commented.
“Was that before or after your third drink?” your brother chirped back.
Instead of humoring him, you shift your gaze to Matthew. “What gives, Tkachuk? Can’t be left at home unsupervised during family vacations?”
“My house training has only gone so far,” he responded smartly, then nodded his head towards Anna and Johnny who were caught in a half-hug, apparently entertaining by watching you and Matthew bicker as if watching a tennis match. “They’re not family.”
Anna feigned a gasp on your behalf. “Y/N and I are part and parcel, Matt. Thought you’d know that by now.”
“Well, the three of us are part and parcel also, Anna. Thought you’d definitely know that by now,” he responded but you were already leading the way out of the hotel lobby and towards the busy square outside.
It was a hub of activity: from street vendors to dance and music performers, there was something to see regardless of which way you looked. Although you arrived at your holiday destination the previous day, the flight south coupled with the warm, sticky evening made you want to steer away from the busier parts of the town. Instead, you opted to lounge by the pool with Anna, having perhaps one too many cocktails to kickstart your vacation. Perhaps you missed Matthew’s arrival at some point then, though for the life of you, you couldn’t remember anyone mentioning he’d come along also. Not that it bothered you greatly.
Since the time you asked him to be your plus one some few weeks ago, the relationship between the two of you warmed slightly. Sure, he still knew which buttons to press to get a reaction out of you, but you saw it as being less ill-intended and more good-natured fun. You kept up with him easily and whenever it felt as if he was cornering you, you conceded with a roll of your eyes but never admitted defeat. You didn’t consider the two of you friends, but something changed on the day of the wedding right around the time you had spilled out your feelings about the entire deal to him. Looking back on it, you found it strange just how easily you did that, no second thoughts, no wishing for takebacks. You knew you owed him the truth given the position you put him in without plenty of heads-up, but you could’ve easily just simplified the entire thing.
It wasn’t difficult to stick together as a group but eventually, you wandered off towards a few stalls on your own that have caught your eye. Though you wanted some more time to have Anna to yourself, it was technically her first vacation with Johnny. You could catch up with her later in the room; surely, she’d have even more swooning to do over him by then. Not that you blamed her. Johnny was an incredible guy.
First, you stopped at a stall selling a range of baked goods that you simply couldn’t turn away from. And for good reason: the sour cherry churro you settled for was a dream come true. From there, you strolled towards a few small stores selling a range of products ranging from colorful graphic tees to earrings made from vibrant, colorful gemstones. You held a blue pair next to your ear, turning one way then another to watch as the light reflected off the gleaming gem.
“Those suit your complexion,” the attendant commented and when you looked towards him, he smiled bashfully.
A gentle heat crept up your neck, unable to keep the grin off your face but you couldn’t look away from him: his skin was lightly tanned, and a dusting of freckles covered the bridge of his nose and upper cheeks. His blond hair was messy in a way you could easily tell was styled to appear as such. He was cute in a sort of conventional way, but you liked the way he smiled at you, all shy but certainly genuine.
���Funny you say that. I always had a feeling blue was my color,” you responded, and his smile widened.
“Here for vacation?” he asked.
You nodded. “Yeah, I just got here yesterday, and I’ll be around for a few days,” you added, a little hopeful.
Hey, if you could score some good company while in the area, then you weren’t going to turn down the opportunity to flirt a little and make good with someone more local.
“Good. That’s really good to know.” He regarded you for a moment and you were certain that caused your blush to deepen though at the same time, it made you feel a little…exposed. “Hey, are you free—”
“The red ones are nicer.”
You squeezed your eyes shut, frustration quickly replacing the feeling of near euphoria. You could recognize that voice anywhere. Of all times he could have run into you, the universe fixed it so he popped up when you least needed that to happen.
“I prefer the blue,” you countered, then held them up against your ear again though you knew you didn’t need to double check if they suited you.
“No, trust me with the red,” Matthew insisted, and you saw him appear behind you in the small circular mirror you were looking into. He was so close. “Goes well with that little number I got you the other day.”
You sputtered. “W-what?! Stop messing—”
In the mirror Matthew’s eyes flicked from you to the attendant. “Yeah, you know the one. I left the box on the bed in our room, thought to surprise—”
“Tkachuk, just shut up. There isn’t an our room—”
This was so painfully uncomfortable. So frustratingly annoying, you felt the blood warm in your veins, that familiar wave of anger coursing through your body.
“I’ll ring those up for you,” the attendant said, his voice carefully polite while he accepted the red earrings from Matthew’s outstretched hand.
You hated him. Passionately hated him. It was easy for Matthew to play games like those because he could easily get just about anyone, but you? It wasn’t quite as easy to not be a pro-athlete who had pretty much everything lined up and going for them. You tried catching the store attendant’s eyes again but he was busy accepting the cash from Matthew after packing away the earrings in a small paper bag. You knew he wouldn’t catch sight of it, but it didn’t stop you from casting a longing, apologetic glance towards him before leaving the store.
It felt as if for every two steps you took, Matthew only needed one and despite the crowds, he caught up with you easily, holding out the bag towards you while you powered ahead.
“Come on, don’t be mad. The red ones are definitely better than the blue ones,” Matthew tried to reason with you while holding the hand stretched out to you, insistent on his offer. When you didn’t respond and instead, tried to rush further ahead, Matthew pressed on. Him managing to keep up with your pace only added fuel to the fire. “Don’t tell me you’re upset over Ron Jon back there.”
You came to a halt, turning to glare up at him. “I am, Matthew. You didn’t need to do what you did back there. There was no reason for it. It was shitty of you, and I need you to back off while I try to enjoy the rest of my night.” You clenched your jaw, trying to suppress the overwhelming feeling of anger that normally resulted in tears. “You could at least pretend to be sorry about it.”
With that, you turned on your heel and squeezed your way through the crowds, ignoring Matthew’s calls to stop and come back and that he was only joking.
Too late for that, you thought bitterly, making a turn towards a street popular for its dining and bar venues.
-
The part of the archipelago more popular with tourists was truly a sight to behold as the sun went down, coloring the sky in some of the warmest, most calming shades of orange, red and yellow you ever saw. It seemed as if everyone gathered on the promenade, phones at the ready while taking photos of the sky, selfies and group shots. Even you couldn’t resist it and after taking a few well-centered selfies, a passing couple offered to take your photo which you immediately posed for.
Later, once the sight sunk in, you moved towards a nearby bar, first attracted by the pink, purple and blue neon lights and then, the music. A good cocktail, good music and a gorgeous sunset were all it took for you to feel more relaxed, leaving behind the event from earlier. He wouldn’t be the first cute guy you’d see, nor the last and indeed, it was easy for you to settle in the more crowded area of the locale where people were dancing either solo, with a partner or as part of a group.
Not long after you weaved your way onto the dancefloor, you felt a pair of hands settle on your hips, drawing you in. You went easily, accepting the embrace, accepting the way you were being led into the dance, swaying your hips along with his. You didn’t even miss a beat when he spun you around, but you kept your hands pressed against his shoulders, rather than wrapping your arms around his neck. You were tipsy, no doubt, and admittedly felt touch-starved but you weren’t quite in the mood for anything more. You even dodged his mouth when he tipped his head down to your lips so instead, he landed a kiss on your cheek. Still, he was pretty relentless. The dance took a turn that was significantly more sensual, crossing a line into discomfort, and you felt that was your cue to try and remove yourself from him. It was easy initially. You threw him a small smile and when he caught hold of your hand, you simply motioned you were only going to get a drink, hoping that would keep him where he was with the knowledge you would return.
When you finally pulled away, you made a bee line towards the exit of the venue but again, you were a step too slow. The guy caught you just at the door.
“Where are you running off to, pretty?” he slurred, his voice louder above the thumping of the music.
“Oh—Um, just getting a breath of fresh air, is all,” you said quickly and immediately wished you didn’t venture off in a place like this alone. It was as if you suddenly forgot everything that was common sense, pushed towards it by earlier frustration.
“Doesn’t look like it to me.” He frowned, but there was no clarity in his eyes. He was entirely out of it and his fingers squeezed painfully around your wrist. You flinched visibly, squirming under his touch and even if you tried pulling your arm away, it was useless. He overpowered you even through the drunken haze. “Wanna go? Fine, then let’s go together.”
“No—uh, I’m actually here with my friends. I’ve just—I saw them so I’m going to catch up with them. They must be looking for—”
“Then we can go to them together, sweetheart. Here, point them out to me.”
“No, really. I’m going to them alone,” you emphasized and put all your force into trying to free your hand. It may have taken him by surprise that led to his loosened grip, but as soon as you turned on your heel, you found out there was more to it than just that.
You almost faceplanted right into Matthew’s chest when you tried making a run for it. He stood there, eyes flicking between you and the guy with an unreadable expression on his face. Your heart was hammering wildly in your chest and instinctively, you almost glued yourself to his side. It wasn’t the first time someone tried to force a move on you, but it was the first time it was done so in such a thoughtless, drunken manner. Perhaps your fear was also enhanced by being alone in an unfamiliar place. To see Matthew this time felt like a blessing.
“Babe,” Matthew said by way of greeting, pulling you to him when he wrapped an arm around your shoulders.
You didn’t realize you were trembling until you stood so close to him, legs suddenly feeling like jelly in front of your salvation. Matthew could easily overpower the guy; even if they were roughly the same height, there was a big difference between the body of an athlete and the swaying one of a drunk guy. Still, it didn’t mean you wanted Matthew to get caught up in anything he’d later regret or would affect him in any way, so you pressed a hand to his chest trying to put some pressure into guiding him away from the scene.
“She yours?” the drunk guy slurred, head tilting back, chin pointing towards your general direction.
“Yeah. So, guess that makes the situation even worse for you,” Matthew responded. His tone was light, seemingly non-threatening to someone who didn’t know him but you did. You knew him and you could read him crystal clear in this moment.
“Matthew, please,” you muttered, looking at him almost desperately while trying to put all your body weight into guiding him away.
The guy scoffed. “You’ve gotta do better than that, buddy.” He snickered. “You’ve gotta keep ‘em on a tighter leash unless you want them to go—”
Matthew made a move towards him, but you quickly stepped in front of him, essentially forcing him to halt. “Matt, please. Let’s go, okay? Please. I really want to leave. Right now.”
He glared at the guy for a moment longer but the hard look in his eyes softened as soon as his gaze fell on you. You took the liberty of placing most of your weight against Matthew, allowing him to remove both of you from the situation and towards a less crowded area. That was easy to find: with the sun having long set, most of the crowds cleared away from the promenade so there was plenty of space for you to collect yourself in peace.
He didn’t pry into the situation, didn’t even make any smartass comments. Instead, he let you slip away from under the safety of his arm while you pace around a small area, trying to work off the anxiety as much as you could. You had to count your breaths, remind yourself to breathe in then out slowly. You were okay. You were far from that guy, and he couldn’t hurt you. At least, no more than he already did. Your wrist felt a bit sore, but you’d take that over anything worse.
“You okay?” Matthew asked at last, tone careful. “I can go back there and pull him out, you know, get him to apologize.”
“No!” you said loudly, desperately, then cleared your throat and lowered your voice. “No, don’t go. Please. I just need a moment, that’s all. Just a little. Could you not leave? I’ll be fine in a moment. Just—just need to catch my breath—"
“Hey, hey—relax. It’s over. He can’t put a hand down on you now, or ever.” Matthew took a few steps closer to you as if apprehensive to approach you in the first place. You knew what you must’ve looked like: pale, still shaken by what happened. He held a hand towards you, palm up. “Can I touch you?”
You looked from it to his face, then said, “don’t get any funny ideas,” but it lacked your usual punch. You took his hand though, letting yourself be drawn to him. Matthew smelled like the sea. You couldn’t help but wonder if maybe he’d gone down to the beach earlier to take a dip. You wished you did that rather than try and drink your frustration over missing out on a random guy. God, you could sleep right here if sleeping while standing was a thing. “I’m sorry for reacting the way I did before—with, uh—what did you call him?”
Matthew chuckled, a low, deep chuckle. “Ron Jon.”
“You’re awful, Tkachuk.”
“And you have a funny way of expressing gratitude.”
“Sorry—”
He laughed louder. “I’m messing with you.” A pause, and then, “I’m sorry I rained on your parade earlier with the guy back then. If you really liked him…” He trailed off, as if to let you fill in the sentence for him.
You laughed weakly, waving a hand dismissively. “Thanks. Again. Seems like nowadays, I just keep having to thank you for one thing or the other.”
You felt him shrug. “Fine by me. You keep adding to these favors you owe me.”
“It’s only one. Well. Two if you want to be a dick and count this one too.”
You took a step back, detaching yourself from him to run both hands through your hair. You felt exhausted, drained of energy yet relieved. Who would’ve thought you’d be pleased to see Matthew pull another one of his appearing out of the blue acts?
“You give me no other choice but to be one,” he joked. “Come on, let’s go back to the hotel. Everyone’s wondering where you were, so you kind of lost your right to vote on dinner for tonight.”
You sighed heavily. “Let me guess: you all ganged up on me in my absence and settled on lobster?”
Matthew grinned. “Can’t vacation in a seaside town and skip out on that.”
“Ugh. Sea critters.” You pulled a face, drawing yet another laugh from Matthew. It made you feel oddly accomplished but you cut that train of thought there, forcing it to derail elsewhere, to place more familiar to you, more comfortable. “Matthew, I mean it when I said thank you. That was—it was scary,” you admitted as the two of you started walking back towards the hotel. You pulled your wrist into your hand, rubbing at the skin gently. Focused on the road ahead, you missed Matthew frowning down at the gesture. “I don’t know how that happened. It’s just—it’s not my thing to do. Go out alone, especially in a place like that. Good instincts by the way,” you tried to joke but it fell flat.
“Don’t mention it,” he said, voice tight. “I don’t want to think about it again if I can help it.”
You cast a confused stare in his direction but by then, it was his turn to look ahead, a frown marring his features. You didn’t push any further though.
Later that night, after you and Anna decided to call it a day and switch off the lights, you lay in bed glancing a look up at the ceiling above. You didn’t think back on the evening’s events but rather, thought back to how a familiar small brown paper bag was taped to your room’s door before dinner. Anna had fixed you with a knowing stare as you plucked it off the door, tipping its contents into the palm of your hand.
Then, you thought how during dinner, Matthew had claimed the seat next to yours and complimented the earrings you wore, remarking how awfully familiar they seemed though he could swear he didn’t know where from. For the first time, you had an inside joke to share with him and neither of you bothered to offer any clarifications to everyone else around the table as they tried to press for details.
three.
The Flames’ first game of the season was scheduled to take place in Las Vegas and with a few days left of vacation, you couldn’t skip on the opportunity to return to the city you were inexplicably fond of, as well as watching your brother play on the third line. The night promised to be unforgettable, and you wouldn’t miss it for the world. Although there were plenty of things to keep you busy throughout the day, your eyes would occasionally wander down to your watch, counting down the hours until the start of the game. It seemed like most of the city was doing the same.
Often, you’d spot handfuls of people donning Knights jerseys and occasionally, there would be a few Flames fans wandering the streets and locales. You’d only spotted one person wearing your brother’s jersey but that was more than enough for you – he was a fairly new face in the professional league, but he certainly pulled his weight during every shift he had on ice whenever given the opportunity. Luckily, you managed to take a quick photo of their back before they disappeared into the crowds, sending it to your brother along with a thumbs-up emoji.
He didn’t respond immediately, nor did you expect him to. You could only imagine how quickly he racked up pre-game nerves and he had a pretty strict routine, which included avoiding his phone until after the game. You couldn’t really make sense of superstitions even if each member of your family who played, whether professionally or otherwise, had their own. Naturally, you were surprised when your phone pinged, indicating a new message almost half an hour later. Except, it wasn’t quite who you were expecting.
Matthew
is that your way of saying good luck?
You frowned, but all it took was a little more attention on your part to notice you hadn’t sent the message to your brother but rather, to Matthew. Lately, he was one of your top contacts for frequent messaging.
You
wrong number
You
good luck to you too though, i guess :/
Matthew
busy?
You
don’t you have practice to get to?
Matthew
[attachment: photo of an ice rink where a few players were captured in motion]
Matthew
[attachment: photo of his skates, taken from the players’ bench]
Matthew
on break, where are you?
You
hanging around
Matthew
what are you wearing?
You
[emoji: middle finger]
Matthew
ice cold
Matthew
nice, i can handle ice cold
You
then go handle ice cold so you don’t get handled tonight
Matthew
wish me luck too
You
i already did
Matthew
i need it twice, it’s my superstition
You
that’s a bullshit superstition
Matthew
if we lose tonight, it’s on you
You
[emoji: angry face]
You
good luck!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Matthew
:)
You dropped your phone on the table with a low groan, slouching in your chair. From across the table, Anna shot you a confused stare which quickly morphed into understanding when you rolled your eyes, shooting your phone a look of frustration as if the device itself was to blame.
“Anything interesting?” she asked in a singsong tone.
“If you count Matthew being his usual self interesting, then that’s what’s up. Otherwise, nothing new.”
“By his usual self, do you mean engaging? Funny? Witty? So good with his words that he yet again takes your attention and keeps it while the rest of us, mere mortals, struggle to do that for longer than a few minutes tops?”
You arched an eyebrow, somewhat amused. “All that – just empty words.”
Anna leaned back in her seat, taking her glass with her while twirling the straw, looking ahead somewhat thoughtfully. “You know what the two of you remind me of? Those two kids in the playground who think love can only be expressed through pulling hair and making snide remarks.”
“First of all, that’s a shitty way of trying to get someone to realize you have feelings for them and second of all, love is a pretty big word. You managing to carry it okay?”
“Okay, maybe not love. But like? It has to be like. Say what you want to say but it looks different from the outside.”
“Okay, you keep staying out there and let me know what you’re seeing. I like your imagination. Very vivid,” you commented but there was no bite to your words and Anna threw her head back with laughter.
You didn’t think much of your exchange with Matthew throughout the rest of the day, nor did you try to linger too long on Anna’s interpretation of your relationship with Matthew. You let it wash over you, knowing it’d give her too much satisfaction if you fretted too much over it and anyway, many of your thoughts seemed to fly towards the evening’s game.
By the time the two of you made your way to the arena, however, you moved from anxiety to excitement within the space of mere moments, apparently. Even if this wasn’t your first rodeo and you’d been to countless games before, there was nothing quite like the thrill of an opening game. You and Anna had spaces reserved in the upper stands along with other family members and significant others but both of you chose to watch the warm-ups close-up, so you hung around by the glass at ice level.
The Vegas Knights and the Flames stepped on the ice to a combination of cheers and the thump of a loud electronic mix. You spotted your brother almost instantly. He did a quick lap around the team’s half of the ice before pulling a puck towards him with his stick, sliding it this way and that before shooting it over towards the net. Once sufficiently warmed up, he cast a searching look around the rink and you quickly waved both arms up in the air to try and get his attention. You knew he’d spotted you, but he made an entire show out of looking over you until you smacked a hand against the panel. You knew the sound wouldn’t be heard over the general noise of the arena, but he still laughed. When he skated over, you held your phone up, giving it a quick shake and mouthing “selfie?”.
He flashed a thumbs up and you quickly turned around to take the photo, but it wasn’t until you inspected it afterwards that you noticed you were photobombed by Matthew himself. You had every intention to look up from the screen and somehow try and get his attention only to glare at him, but he was a step ahead. You almost jumped out of your skin when you noticed Matthew standing right there by the glass, smirking at you.
“Asshole,” you mouthed, not daring to voice it out given you were surrounded by kids.
Matthew winked, skated to collect a stray puck then threw it up over the boards towards one of the kids standing right next to you. The kid was clearly thrilled by the gesture, bouncing up and down with the puck held over his head as if it were a trophy. You couldn’t help it: your heart melted at the sight, so you simply nodded once at Matthew, apparently just in time as the warm-up countdown reached zero.
You weren’t surprised the home team were putting on such a show for the opening night. There was a little bit of Vegas in every opening act: from the fireworks set off outside the arena to the showgirls and mind-blowing animations projected down on the ice, it felt more of a Stanley Cup playoff game than the start of a regular season game. This was Vegas and no one did it quite like Vegas did, you had to give that to them.
Both teams were almost evenly balanced throughout the first period but stepping out of intermissions and into the second, the Flames started powering ahead. It was as if something had clicked together even better and they functioned as a well-oiled machine, both in offence and defense. By the end of that period, they were leading the Knights 3-2 and you were more than elated your brother had earned himself an assist. Like all games, tensions formed quickly, and the third period saw both teams play aggressively. On several occasions, you caught sight of players clearly chirping each other even while heading towards their respective benches after the end of a shift. Once, Matthew seemed to be involved in a seemingly endless yelling match with a player on the opposing team. There were more checks against the panels, an impressive number of penalties drawn by both teams, and it felt as if the atmosphere was just tethering towards a fight.
It happened right after the Flames scored the fourth goal with just two minutes left of the game.
The moment the puck was dropped at center ice, you watched as Matthew charged ahead towards one of the Knights players who didn’t hesitate to drop the gloves. Between them, Matthew had the faster instinct, and he landed the first punch, effectively forcing both players to fall to the ice while the referees scrambled to try and split them apart. They were there a moment too late, just mere seconds after you caught sight of knuckles scraping along Matthew’s mouth on the big screens above. At first, it seemed to be nothing more than a graze but once he was separated and made his way towards the Flames bench, you noticed several spots of blood on his jersey on the screens above that made you almost jump out of your seat.
Sure, this was a familiar sight, but it didn’t alleviate the sheer shock and restlessness. Whatever had happened between them must’ve been a pretty big deal to set Matthew off the way it did. There was no way of sugarcoating it: the fight was vicious. More than ever, you wanted the period countdown to reach zero so you could go down to the lockers. It wasn’t just a few nagging feelings towards Matthew that led you to react the way you did. He was a friend, after all, so worrying for him was simply natural. An expected way of responding to a situation like that.
“He had it worse before, remember?” Anna reminded you as you followed the small stream of relatives and friends down towards the players’ rooms.
“Still looked pretty bad to me,” you responded, briefly pulling your lower lip between your teeth. Before she could continue being the voice of reason, you added in a light tone, “I just want to see if he had any teeth knocked out of his mouth this time around.”
It took some time before the players filed out and as you watched them come out one by one, you almost wished you saved this for somewhere less…well, public. Sure, you were just a friend checking on a friend, but you wished you could do that without an audience.
Your brother emerged first, beaming, no doubt pleased with the win, and you hugged him tightly, easily sharing his joy.
“He’s just getting ready to come out now,” he informed you, heading nodding back towards the locker.
You blinked. “What? Oh—no, I’m just. I was waiting for you to say congratulations. What are you even talking about,” you mumbled but inevitably, your eyes were drawn towards the locker room as the door swung open and Matthew stepped out.
His hair was still damp but already curling again. He was dressed in the same suit he probably arrived in, a simple light grey number that fit him perfectly. He had his backpack on also and in one hand, he carried an apparently ice-cold bottle of water while the other was pressing an ice pack to the corner of his mouth. When you made eye contact, he frowned lightly and for a moment, seemed almost hesitant to approach you. This time, you were a step ahead and cornered him before he decided to walk away.
You nodded your head once, indicating in his general direction. “What? You’re trying to add to the family’s hefty dentist bill by getting a few teeth knocked out already?”
Matthew shrugged. “It’s not hockey without a few scraps now and then.”
“For a guy who got a goal and an assist, you sure don’t look too pleased with that.”
At that comment, Matthew’s expression shifted, lightening up considerably. “Are you keeping track of my stats now?”
“What? No, Tkachuk. I was doing what everyone else in that arena was doing: paying attention generally speaking.”
Suddenly, his entire face scrunched up in pain and he almost doubled over as he groaned. Instinctively, you reached out for him, eyes widening a little when bending down a little to try and look at his face.
“Oh my god—Matthew. Are you okay? Do you need me to get a medic to check—”
You frowned as soon as you felt his shoulders tremble under your touch. Slowly, it dawned on you he was laughing. Laughing. You slapped his shoulder lightly, the gesture more a tap than anything else and you started walking down the corridor quickly, trying to catch up with everyone else as they filed out of the arena.
“Hey, hey, wait, Y/N! Come on, don’t be mad,” he called out after you and you heard him jog to catch up with you. When he did, he took a couple more steps ahead then stepped in your path, walking backwards to match your pace. “I was only messing around. I couldn’t not do that. You should’ve seen your face, honestly.”
“My face? Hope you’ve seen yours. I’m not mad. Me being mad would basically mean you managed to get to me which you really didn’t, so don’t give yourself any credit, Tkachuk,” you responded. “You just reminded me you’re still a dick so thanks for that.”
“Give me a free pass. I’m injured.”
“If you’re searching for sympathy, you’re looking for it in the wrong place,” you informed him, side stepping him so that he resumed walking at your side instead. After a few moments of silence, you conceded with a sigh. “Seriously speaking. How’s your mouth?”
“Don’t think I’ll need fillers, let’s just say.” He removed his hand from his mouth, and you looked over.
Thankfully, it seemed that putting ice on it quickly was paying off. The area was somewhat red, but no significant damage seemed to be visible to the untrained eye. He was certainly miles better than he was just months ago.
“Looks okay, I guess,” you shrugged. “What happened? Honestly, it looked pretty intense from the outside.”
Matthew didn’t respond and you didn’t press him for details even after you stepped out into the balmy Vegas night. If he chose to not share with you, then you guessed it must’ve been either pretty personal or pretty stupid. You leaned more towards the former. You didn’t even complain when he followed you to the car you hired, claiming the passenger seat. Before you also stepped inside, a message pinged in from Anna informed you she had taken off with Johnny for dinner but promised to be back in the room in a few to catch up.
You didn’t start the engine when you fixed your seatbelt and instead, leaned your head back against the rest, watching a few other vehicles pull out of the car park. In his seat, Matthew was looking out of the window to his left, heading resting against a loosely formed fist propped up against the door.
“He was talking shit about you,” he said at last, but didn’t turn to you when he spoke.
“Who was?”
“The guy on the other team. He made a comment about you towards your brother at the end of the shift. Something about… I don’t know, something crude, vulgar. Don’t really remember it.”
You didn’t quite believe him on the last part, but you allowed it anyway. “Okay… Well, I don’t know the guy anyway, so it didn’t matter, Matthew. You should have let it slip by or left my brother to deal with it.” Then, out of curiosity, you asked, “why didn’t you?”
More silence. Occasionally, the muffled sound of a passing car would cut through it but it, too, would be gone in seconds.
“Because I couldn’t.”
You pursed your lips and your fingers clenched then unclenched in your lap. You placed your hands on the steering wheel, then dropped them away before settling them back on it after starting the engine.
“Thanks, I guess. You just keep making me owe you favors.”
“You don’t owe me—”
“So, I’ll clear that now with dinner. Just please don’t tell me you’re going to need to be on a smoothie diet. I’ll feel bad eating something really good while you’re there with a strawberry and banana drink. Not that I’d stop eating though, just so you know. But it’s the thought that counts,” you said and finally, finally he chuckled quietly.
“No smoothie diets this time.”
You sighed dramatically. “Maybe no smoothie diets ever?”
Matthew shrugged. He was still not meeting your eyes but that was okay. “Can’t promise that. Kind of comes with the job. Just in case though, I like the sweeter stuff more. Triple chocolate, Oreo pieces, peanut butter.”
“Thanks, Matthew. I’ll file that under information I don’t care to know about.”
“I’m injured. Show some sympathy,” he demanded without heat, finally turning to you.
You cooed then reached out with one of your hands to pat his cheek lightly. “Aw, really searching for it in the wrong place.”
“I’ll make do with what I can get,” he allowed, and you could swear he leaned into your touch, but you tore your hand away before either of you got too comfortable.
four.
Matthew called in his favor after a few of his teammates agreed where to host their Halloween party.
“Kind of sounds like you’re the one asking for a favor,” you commented, planting yourself at your kitchen table while securing the phone between your ear and shoulder.
Matthew sighed on the other end. “Sort of. Who does a themed Halloween party anyway? The theme itself is Halloween.”
“You’re not wrong about that. Could be fun though, a bit more unique. So, what’s the theme for this year?”
“Couple outfits,” Matthew replied without hesitation.
You stilled and were grateful he wasn’t in the same room as you. It took you a great deal more energy over the course of the past few months to convince yourself that Matthew didn’t attract you in one way or another. His looks aside, it was rare you came across someone who could easily keep up with your snide remarks and the more you got to know him, the more you realized that there was more to Matthew than just being a typical athlete with his share of well-deserved fame. He was funny, dedicated and undoubtedly, caring. You had some first-hand experience with the latter. After all, he didn’t owe you anything to make him obligated to jump into whatever weird situation you found yourself in.
You warmed to him little by little. If you found him attractive, well that was for you alone to know though it made everything just that more difficult. Thankfully, Matthew seemed pretty oblivious to it or at least, he was doing a good job at pretending he didn’t catch you staring at him on several occasions or the few times you took a discrete step back if it felt like you were too close to him. Knowing he was asking you to go together as a couple (pretend couple, you corrected yourself) only added to the difficulty of coming to terms with your…crush.
Puppy love, you assured yourself. It’ll go as quickly as it came.
“Y/N?”
“Sorry, still here. Guess it sucks another year will go by without the opportunity to bring out your Fortnite costume.”
“Oh, come on. I wouldn’t dress like a game character!”
“Matthew,” you warned.
There was a pause, then, “okay, fine. Maybe I would. So, can you come?”
You shrugged, then remembered he couldn’t see it. “I owe it to you, don’t I?”
“Great! Hey, choose something good for us. There’s going to be a prize for best dressed and I have my eyes on it.”
“I think we can both agree my creativity will not let us down. I’ll text you my idea. You just make sure you actually stick to it, so I don’t end up looking stupid.”
“Don’t worry,” he started, “I won’t dump you on Halloween.”
“Good to know I won’t end up traumatized and have my favorite holiday ruined,” you said, by way of goodbye.
-
“Hey, spin around for me once. You look good. Blonde’s not bad on you.”
“No color’s bad on me,” you responded but refused to entertain Matthew by complying with his request. Instead, you rang the bell to Noah’s apartment after the door didn’t budge when Matthew tried the handle.
“Come on, just a spin,” Matthew insisted, nudging his elbow into your own then pressed the doorbell himself once again – hard, as if that would make it ring louder.
“Only if you dance for me and do the entire Greased Lightning choreography without missing a step.”
Matthew feigned a groan and you shot him an amused look. Before you could even comment on that, the door opened, and Noah stood at the threshold. The ruckus from inside spilled out into the corridor and from what you could see beyond him, it was a full house of all sorts of characters.
“Wow! Sandy and Danny! Finally, someone with really good taste,” Noah said by way of greeting and he looked towards you pointedly.
You flashed him a grin. “Always a pleasure to exceed expectations,” you responded and stepped into his open arms, a clear invitation for an embrace that was shortly broken apart by Matthew.
“Hey, none of that man,” he said, pulling you back and easily holding most of your weight as you broke into a laugh that had you stumbling into his side. “I didn’t even get to tell her she’s the one that I want.”
“Yeah, well, you better shape up ‘cause I need a man,” you responded, without missing a beat though you couldn’t help but replay his words in your mind. They sounded a lot like a broken record that you desperately wished to stop immediately before this…thing went way too far and spun out of control.
You were both led towards a photo wall and if you had any nerves about striking good poses without at least some liquid courage first, all that vanished. To your surprise, Matthew easily took the lead initially, falling to his knees in front of you in an attempt to recreate the part where a smitten Danny fell before Sandy, completely and utterly overwhelmed by her presence. Despite it being difficult to control your laughter, you played along with ease. At first, you were simply grinning down at him but you couldn’t let all his in-character effort go to waste, so you turned, casting a glance down towards him over your shoulder. To your side, Noah’s flash was going off every few seconds as he tried to capture the two of you from the best angle, together with cheers of encouragement. For your second pose, you rested your arms on Matthew’s shoulders once he rose back to his full height and his hands held on to either side of your torso. Again, the flash went off and again, the two of you changed pose into something more casual: him, standing behind you with his palms on your hips while you place a hand on his face, grinning at the camera. The flash went off again and he whooped loudly.
“I’m never inviting both of you to a party with this theme again,” Noah muttered, feigning disgruntlement. “You can’t come into my home and kill it like that.”
“Blame the one who came up with this idea in the first place,” Matthew defended, holding both hands up in the air in a gesture of innocence.
It was true. The idea to dress as Danny and Sandy from Grease came to you fairly quickly. You knew the two were a popular go-to, but you enjoyed the movie greatly. Plus, it was a great opportunity for you to pull out a pair of red heels you invested a hefty sum of money into. And, well, admittedly there was something about Matthew that made you think he’d suit the role just fine. When you shared your idea with him, he was on board from the start without complaining or suggesting alternatives. You were grateful for that: when Matthew picked you up earlier, dressed in an all-black outfit, leather jacket and hair styled to rival John Travolta’s, you gave yourself a mental pat on your shoulder. If any photos would go up on the internet, you were pretty sure Instagram would be grateful to you. Certainly, you knew Chantal and Keith would get a kick out of it for sure.
“Guilty as charged,” you acknowledged. “I’m going to look for Anna. Catch you later.” You gave a wave to the both of them before making your way towards the hub of activity where couple costumes ranged from peanut butter and jelly to superheroes.
She was fairly easy to locate, in part because she told you she and Johnny would dress as Wonder Woman and Steve Trevor. The red, blue and gold of her outfit were unmissable even in a sea of costumes. As soon as she spotted you approaching, she made a beeline and wrapped an arm around yours.
“Tell me you and Matthew will recreate the entire You’re the One That I Want scene,” she pleaded. “Please tell me that at some point this evening, you’ll tell us to clear the dancefloor so the two of you can have your moment.”
You rolled your eyes, dragging her along towards a table hosting drinks and small bites. “There’s no moment we’re going to be having.”
“Because you don’t want to or because you want to so badly that you don’t know how to ask him? I’m pretty sure he’ll say yes.”
“Neither,” you muttered but even you’d be able to hear the lack of conviction in your tone from a mile away.
To take your mind off it, you poured yourself a glass of red wine, taking a tentative sip from it. Across the room, Matthew had deposited his black leather jacket away and started making rounds around the room. You took a longer sip from your wine and looked away.
Anna fixed you with a knowing stare which you refused to acknowledge, but she knew you like the back of her hand. “It’s okay to say you like him, you know,” she advised, and you hated the soothing tone she tried to take when saying that. It felt more pitying than anything, as if you hadn’t already had your share of disappointments in love—or, relationships better said.
“Who said anything about liking him? He’s not bad to look at I’ll admit, but that’s where it stops.” You frowned, looking out of the nearest nearby window that gave a broad view of the city below. “That’s where I want it to stop,” you admitted, this time quieter.
You were well aware that you were occasionally trying to look for a narrative that was most convenient for late night thoughts when you had the peace and privacy to think of him as you wished. The reality couldn’t be more different, though, and you knew that. Matthew was helpful to you before because he was good friends with your brother and eventually, you realized that it was just part of his nature. Beyond being successful, beyond his fame and recognition, Matthew was kind and funny and respectful. It was just that you didn’t give him the chance to before and now that you got to know him better, you suddenly realized that…what? You’d like the first man who gives you a helping hand? If that were the case, you should’ve gotten the memo sooner: it would’ve been easier liking the tech guy from work who once debugged your laptop.
It wasn’t doing you any good to try and look for a ‘but’ in every situation: Matthew is helpful because he’s good friends with my brother but it’s not like that should force him to act as if we’re romantically involved not once or twice or thrice but now, four times. Regardless of how you looked at it, that reeked of desperation. You were in that weird period in your life where it felt as if everyone around you was in a relationship, so maybe that mood translated to you.
That’s right, you settled. That’s what was possibly behind these thoughts of yours. You found Matthew attractive – and what? So did plenty of other people. You saw him surrounded by girls after practice, after matches, while out. What you felt was nothing special. It felt easier to think of it that way, even if for a few hours to truly enjoy the party without having that lurking at the back of your mind.
You mingled easily, danced with Anna, danced with other players’ girlfriends and wives, danced with your brother, even attempted a few traditional Russian dances taught by Nikita, Artyom and a few of their friends, that left you breathless by their rapid pace and intricate footwork.
“I’m done!” you declared, breathless and almost swaying on your feet when another Russian folk song came to an end but thankfully, you managed to hold steady before you could catch a ride on the hot mess express. “Absolutely wasted. Knocked out.” You stepped away, tired but euphoric and dropped rather unceremoniously on one of the available couches pushed against a wall.
“Having fun?” Matthew asked and there was a light flush on his cheeks you knew wasn’t from dancing. There was even just a slight slur to his speech.
“The most,” you replied, breathless, and accepted the drink he held out to you. You took a sip without questioning him what was in the glass, only to find out for yourself he was settling for harder stuff tonight. “But never let it be said that anyone can keep up with Russians because let me tell you,” you whistled quietly, “we’re a couple of steps behind. Plenty of steps behind, actually.”
Matthew flashed a lazy smile and you briefly spared a moment to envy him for how kept together he remained despite being evidently buzzed. “’s okay. At least we’re the better dressed ones so we lose in style.”
You took another sip from his glass, holding it out to him with a smirk. “Tell me about it, stud,” you said in what you hoped was a low, alluring tone of voice but no sooner did you think that, and you were reduced to embarrassed laughter. “Forget about that! Forget it, forget it! Where’s the delete button?”
“I didn’t come equipped with that,” he declared proudly, finishing off what was left of his drink. “C’mere, you can show me a couple of those steps you learned.”
He stood, a little unsteadily initially then held a hand to you. You knew he wouldn’t have the strength to pull you up properly, so you stood easily fully intent to actually lead him through some of the steps. Except, Matthew was definitely swaying more than you thought he would. There was something inexplicably amusing about the situation and instead of directing him towards the center of the room, you steered him away from it and towards a small bathroom you were shown to earlier that night when you needed some time to re-touch your makeup.
“Where’re we going?” he asked curiously, looking over his shoulder towards the living room with a look that could only be read as longing.
“To cool down a little and then you can learn as many folk dances as you want. Believe me, you need to be alert for them. Can’t miss a step,” you advised, trying to steady him by wrapping an arm around him though the difference in weight between the two of you couldn’t compare. Still, you managed to get him into the bathroom safely without either of you making a mess of yourselves or the room.
“Are you gonna cool down too?” he questioned.
“Sure thing, definitely need it.”
“Good, we’ll cool down together.” With that, he made a move to open the glass partition for the shower cubicle but thankfully, you were significantly more alert than he was and managed to prevent him from doing anything more than that.
“Not that sort of cool down. Here, sit here,” you encouraged, lowering the lid on the toilet so Matthew could drop down. You doubted you’d be able to hold much of his strength above the sink if you were to help him splash some cold water on his face.
“But I want that sort of cool down,” he slurred. “With you. Us two. You said you want to cool down too. Could be a couple activity.” He grinned, as if proud of himself.
Thankfully, Matthew was buzzed enough to miss the flush on your face, the slight shake of your hand as you arranged a towel around his neck to prevent too much overspill before turning the tap on.
“Can’t do that, Matthew. Here, this will be much better, I promise.”
“Wanna try though,” he mumbled but was still compliant as you pressed a wet, cool palm against his forehead, then either of his cheeks. “Not cool enough.” His complaint was accompanied by a frown which only morphed into a lazy smirk when he leaned back, trying to pull you with him. “C’mon, Y/N. It’s a couple’s Halloween night.”
“Matthew, we’re not a couple,” you said gently, pushing your palms against his shoulders in an attempt to free yourself from his hold. Before it was too late. Before you allowed yourself to get drawn into a drunk man’s ramblings.
“But I wanna be. A couple, with you.”
You put all your strength into breaking away from his hold and thankfully, managed to do so. Your heart was hammering in your chest as if desperately trying to release itself from the cage of your ribs.
“Matthew, you’re drunk. Here, splash some cold water on your face so you can come back to your senses.”
“But I’m not drunk,” he insisted and as if to demonstrate, he stood up quickly. He swayed on the spot, stretching out his arms a little and once he found his footing, he looked towards you with an expression that mixed pride with hopefulness. “See? Definitely okay—”
You frowned, feeling a little caged in. You should’ve left the door open at least. “Okay, then let’s go back out there, yeah? I can get an Uber and I’ll take you home if you prefer that?”
“Yes,” he said, then leaned back against the door. “Only if you come with me.”
You exhaled, suddenly tired as if the exchange was working every ounce of energy out of you. “I’ll come to make sure you’re okay and can make it to your bed okay.”
“I can though. I can definitely make it there even on my own and you know why? Because I’m not drunk,” Matthew insisted and when you shot him a look of disbelief, he peeled himself away from the door. “Look, look I can prove it to you I’m not drunk.”
Before you could even ask him to walk a straight line without stumbling his steps, Matthew’s arm wrapped around your waist while his other hand pressed on the back of your head, bringing you closer until your lips met. Kissing Matthew was like everything you imagined and more. He even did that with the same passion with which he skated on ice, chasing puck after puck. It left you breathless how well he worked his lips against your own as if all along, he knew how to do that in such way that it’d leave your legs feeling like jelly. Beyond that though, it felt comfortable. Not forceful despite him having not asked if he could do it in the first place, yet it still felt right. You tasted sweetness on his mouth and the sharp tang of whiskey. Vaguely, you knew nothing else could compare. It was that thought that made you push away from him with as much force as you could muster, ducking under his arm and towards the door.
“I’ll ask someone to take you home,” you said without even looking his way before leaving dashing out of the bathroom.
“You okay?” Anna asked you when you ran into her. Quite literally.
“Uh—yeah. No, actually. I think I feel a bit unwell so I’m going to head home, okay?”
You made a move to leave but her arm stopped you. “Hey. Are you sure you’re okay?”
Above her shoulder, you saw Matthew emerge from the bathroom, a little dazzled, eyes searching the room. Before he could even spot you, you quickly freed yourself from her hold and nodded. “Will be. I’ll text you when I get home. Don’t rush back, okay? Tell Alex I said thanks for the invite.”
You didn’t stumble a step in your heels as you jogged towards the door, making a swift exit before you attracted even more attention.
+ one.
Matthew left no calls and no messages, but that was fine. You didn’t spend time trying to build your expectations of anything like that happening because drunk words weren’t always sober thoughts. The event was just something you had to deal with and if you had to do it alone, then so be it. Reasonably speaking, you and Matthew went from nothing to friends and if you caught feelings along the way, then that was your mistake for letting yourself slip like that. You were left broken hearted once, you really didn’t want to go through that again especially over someone that wasn’t even really and truly yours to begin with.
So, the next morning, you woke up at a reasonably early hour despite the late night but felt energized enough to sweep through your apartment and collect the garments you tossed carelessly on your way to bed after arriving at home. You said a heartfelt goodbye to Sandy, apologizing that in this scenario, her and Danny didn’t end up driving off in a red convertible. After that, you showered and changed in a fresh set of clothes even if the day would most likely be spent indoors. It was a fitting conclusion to the Halloween weekend, and you could do with some downtime, really.
Anna must’ve stayed with Johnny because regardless of how much noise you made, she didn’t emerge from the room and after fixing a quick breakfast and brewing coffee to continued silence, you knew you were right. It didn’t bother you. You’d make full use of the couch and stretch out on it properly as you flicked through your Netflix account and for the sake of sticking to weekend morning traditions, you selected a lighthearted sitcom. You were halfway through the third episode when your doorbell rang. You could’ve sworn Anna had a spare key of her own unless she misplaced it or forgot it home. Not entirely out of question.
Except, it wasn’t Anna who greeted you when you opened the door.
“Oh.” You coughed lightly, crossing your arms then unfolding them, then leaning one against the doorway before dropping it to your side. “Hey—uh. Hey Tkachuk, isn’t it a bit early for you to be out and about? You were smashed the last time I saw you.”
Matthew looked over your shoulder into the apartment, as if checking to see if you were alone. “Can I come in?”
Defeated, you stepped to the side and cleared the way for him to step inside before pushing the door closed. Part of you wished you’d dressed up as if you were ready to head off somewhere. You weren’t quite ready nor willing to face whatever music Matthew had in mind for you.
In the aftermath of the party, out of the flashiness of the costume, Matthew seemed to be perfectly clear-headed despite the state you’d left him in. The curls atop his head seemed soft despite the natural frizz and as he passed by, you caught a whiff of sharp cologne and fresh bodywash.
“Is Anna here?”
“Are we playing twenty-one questions?”
“No?”
“Kind of sounds like it, though?” You laughed quietly, trying to lighten the mood. It was bad enough the weather outside was gloomy, autumn settling in full force. Now, you had to deal with a Matthew who looked as if he wasn’t sure he came to the right place. “Coffee?” you asked, already leading the way towards the kitchen. You heard him follow behind you just moments later. While you poured a full cup for him, he hovered by the table, making you frown at him. “What’s wrong with you? You need an invite to sit down and relax? Seriously, Matthew, you look like you should be in bed.”
“You left last night without saying anything,” he said instead.
“Uh—yeah. I was kind of tired and I wanted it to call it a night early so—”
“Was it because of what I said or what I did?”
You almost dropped the coffee cup, but fortunately only startled enough for the liquid to slosh over the rim and down the back of your hand, causing you to hiss in pain. You cursed quietly and, in an instant, Matthew crossed over the room and took the cup from you, setting it down on the table before leading you towards the sink. As if used to this, he placed your hand under ice cold water and once the sharp pain numbed, you pushed his hand away, taking a step to the side in an attempt to put more distance between you.
“It’s fine, I’ve got this,” you mumbled, holding your hand still under the jet for a few more seconds before closing it.
It was hardly worth the fuss, but it gave you a reason to make yourself busy with something other than freaking out. It couldn’t be that he remembered anything. It couldn’t be that he was standing in your kitchen, thinking that it was a good idea to just open up that subject when you were so ready to take a shovel to it and bury it six feet under.
“Didn’t you get tired of it at all?” he tried again.
“Tired of what?”
“Of pretending. Of only acting like we’re together for one reason or the other—”
“Matthew, I asked you only once and you know why. I apologized then but if it helps you sleep better at night, I’ll apologize again for dragging you into my mess. I don’t know what the point is of this discussion—”
“The point,” he said, raising his voice but only to cut through your speech. “The point is that I’m tired of it. I’m tired of having to be by your side and pretend. It got to a stage where I don’t even know what’s real and what isn’t, and I feel as if the only time I’ll know that for sure will be when you find someone, so you no longer need to turn to me to pretend.”
“Matthew, I’m not using you, if that’s what you’re thinking. You’re coming at me with this out of the blue and I don’t even understand what this is all about,” you argued, waving a hand between the two of you.
Matthew clenched his jaw. You watched as he flexed it and his eyebrows furrowed. “Do you need me to spell it out for you again? I thought I was pretty straightforward about what I want last night.”
“You were drunk last night, is what you were. You could hardly put a foot in front of the other.”
“You know that’s not true,” he retorts, lifting his arms then dropping them back down to his sides. “I was sober enough to know damn well what I said and why I said it. If you want to keep pretending even now, even at this point, then you go ahead and do that but let me be clear with you again and you take what you want from it: I don’t want to pretend with you anymore. I want to be with you. You want to know what that feels like? It feels a lot like being so close to something you want, literally having that thing dangled right in front of you only to have it snatched just when you think it’s yours. Me kissing you last night? I’m sorry I forced it on you, I could’ve gone about doing it differently but I’m not sorry for what I feel. That was all me and not the alcohol. So, you take this and do what you want with it.”
You stared at him, disbelieving your ears. It wouldn’t surprise you if that was the case: you did wake up surprisingly refreshed even after an emotionally charged night, so for all you knew, you could be dreaming this.
“Matthew, what are you—That’s, you’re kidding me with this right? You can’t. You can’t possibly think that.”
“And why not?”
“Because it doesn’t make sense. Are you even hearing yourself talk?”
“Why doesn’t it make sense? Want me to go about it differently? If you let me pull your hair, I’ll let you push me in the sandbox.”
You were suffering from a strange, ill-timed case of déjà vu. Part of you wanted to laugh at the situation but the bigger part of you triumphed, thankfully. You released a breath you had been holding, bringing both hands up to cover your face, taking some moments to yourself. Or perhaps, you’d lost track of time because eventually, you heard Matthew sigh and felt his fingers wrap around each wrist though he didn’t put pressure to tug your hands down from your face.
“Sorry. I’m just—I’m not doing this the right way. I don’t want it to seem like I’m forcing my feelings on you and that you should accept them. If I misread us—you at any point, then fine. Just, we can drop it here and I’ll deal with it but—”
You shook your head slowly. “No, I just need a moment. Sorry. You really caught me by surprise. I didn’t… I thought everything you said last night…what you did… I thought that was just, well, just the alcohol. So, I did the best thing I knew to do and, uh, left.”
“Drunk words, sober thoughts,” he reminded you quietly and this time, you dropped your hands away from your face so you could look up at him.
He was so handsome. Ridiculously handsome in his casual clothes. Briefly, you thought back to the time you first found safety in his arms and wondered if maybe… Well, why not. You closed the distance between the two of you, wrapping your arms around him, fingers clinging to the thick material of his hoodie while you faceplanted against his chest and breathed him in.
You liked Matthew. You liked Matthew so much that the admission overwhelmed you so much that you squeezed him to you, trying desperately to bring him closer. The gesture seemed to prompt him into action, and he returned the hug, pressing a kiss to the top of your head and then to the base of your throat once he’d lowered his head there.
“Me too. I want to be with you too. Really be with you. No more of this pretend stuff,” you told him, your voice muffled against his body, but you knew he caught every word.
He chuckled, the sound low and deep, sending shivers down your spine. “We won Noah’s competition last night.”
“Bet he did it because of your long face,” you commented, unable to help yourself. “What did we win?”
Matthew made a move to step back, but you clung to him, much to your embarrassment. It seemed as if your body acted out of sync with your mind, but who could blame it when Matthew stood right there, right before you. Turned out he only took a step back to lift you off your feet and instinctively, you wrapped your legs around his hips, arms resting loosely around his neck. You leaned in and pressed a fleeting kiss to his mouth as he stumbled away from the kitchen while you stole another kiss. And then, just because you could, a third.
“A voucher to a seafood restaurant,” he informed you, breaking into a laugh when you groaned, throwing your head back in sheer frustration even if you had a strong feeling he was only messing with you.
“Remind me to never put so much effort if that’s what the stake are.”
“Noted. Next time, I’ll tell you we could just stay home for Halloween and play by our rules. Outfits optional. Probably not recommended.”
“That’s…really not what I said.”
“I’m reading between the lines. See? We know each other so well.”
You laughed as he carried you all the way into your room without even as much as breaking a sweat. That was definitely some food for thought at a later point.
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I don't know if you've done this before :( but could you maybe write about the Obey me brothers after an argument with MC?? Like a fight make up kind of situation??
400 years later.....
Well, maybe not that long, but certainly long enough. I'm sorry >.<. Hope this doesn't put you off on sending other things because I did like doing this one!
Obey me Brothers + MC After a Fight
Lucifer
It was late into the evening when you heard the knock at your door. Before you could ask who it was, you heard the even timber of Lucifer’s voice behind the door. “[Y/N], it’s me. May I come in?” There was a long pause than usual between his introduction and question, seeming to debate asking, or your response, before he asked it.
To be honest, he had a right to be cautious because you weren’t sure what your answer would be before you opened your mouth. “Yes. Come in.”
The heavy door opened and Lucifer stepped in. Prim and as well stationed as ever, but the confidence normally in his face diminished just the slightest. “I…came to apologize.” The words seem to want to drag out of his throat. Like it’s the hardest thing he’s ever had to say. Not the best start for an apology.
“You didn’t have to treat me that way.” You tell him. Telling you like a child in front of everyone. Getting your hand smacked for something you didn’t even do. No coming to give some lack luster, dutiful apology he doesn’t mean. “And don’t say your sorry if you’re not.”
“I am sorry.” Lucifer insisted, before he took a deep breath and tried to relax. “You’re right. I shouldn’t have embarrassed you like that in front of everyone. I was upset, and took it out on you. Sometimes you’re an easy target because I know you’ll care for me no matter what I do. We always hurt most the ones we love.” Your cheeks tint at the comment. Damn him and his suave words.
The demon makes the effort to cross the threshold and take your hands. “Please know that I am truly sorry for my behavior. I will strive to never make you feel foolish, or less than, again. My mission in life now is to show you how much more than I find you over everyone else.”
You roll your eyes a little at the comment. “Let’s not get carried away. You’re starting to sound like Asmo.”
You giggle when Lucifer gave a forced, disgusted shutter. He then lifted your hands to his lips and gave them a kiss. “Am I forgiven?” He asked.
“I suppose.” Annoyingly, he was right. You would always care for, and love him, so it was hard to stay mad at him for long.
“Good,” he said, with his usual prideful smile, “I’m glad. I do plan to still make it up to you though. So make no plans for Saturday.”
“Will do.” You agreed. Giving him a tiny salute. He then left to let you finish getting ready for bed. Ideas of how he’d ‘make it up to you’ swirling in your head.
Mammon
There was a sharp rap at your door that rung out clear in your room over your headphones. You were curious who was here at this hour, but got up to go answer the door before the tried again.
You open the door and are immediately confronted with a bundle of flowers being shoved in your face. Almost to the point of the blooms bursting against your cheeks. You stagger, at the afront of color, and the bouquet is pulled back slightly to reveal Mammon behind them. “I…bought you these flowers. To say I’m sorry.” The more he talked the more his voice trailed off. His normally confidence draining like the color from his face.
“Isn’t it rather cliché to buy someone flowers to apologize?”
Mammon flinched at your criticism. “I didn’t know what else to do. If you don’t like them I’ll buy you something else. Anything you want! Just please…talk to me.” Please forgive me, was what he was really saying.
You look at the demon for a moment. His defeated stance not fitting into his character at all. Ironic, since the fight was about Mammon being too full of himself. Confidence was one thing, but ever now and then it was too much, and when you tried to talk to him about it he turned on you. He had immediately regretted it, but you refused to talk to him for several days after to cool off.
Apparently, that was the worse punishment he could think of.
“You don’t need to buy me anything Mammon. I’ve already forgiven you.”
“Really??” He asked. Seeming unsure of what he’d heard or that he could trust you.
“Really.” You repeat, and immediate find yourself in his arms. Your flowers falling to the floor as he hugged you.
“Thank you [Y/N]! I’ll never do anything stupid like that again! I promise!”
“Well now, let’s not make promises we can’t keep.” You tease. Patting his back. “We all make mistakes Mammon. I’ll be angry with you sometimes, but I generally forgive you. How can I stay mad at my ‘First Man’ for long?” His hold on you tightened a little. It lingered for a moment longer before he let you go.
“Yeah. Right. Don’t you forget it.”
Levi
You were getting ready to head downstairs when there was a knock at your door. It was a surprise, since you were going down to meet everyone. So who was up here now? You open the door and find everyone’s favorite otaku, out of his hole and in front of your door, staring at you.
“Y-Y-You…You weren’t answering my texts.” Levi finally got out.
“That should have been a hint.” You tell him. Perhaps a bit more curt than need be.
The bluenette straightened in alarm before his shoulder slumped again. “I know. I’m sorry! But I couldn’t stand the thought of you being mad at me! I know I can get a little…-“crazy?” You interjected –“excited about my games and stuff, but I really didn’t mean to snap at you!”
The two of you had been playing some new quest game that was all the rage apparently on the deep otaku net. Supposedly it was unbeatable. No one had actually ever seen the final boss ending yet. Which of course meant Levi was determined to be the first. Confident that his eons of experience wouldn’t lead him astray.
Sadly, the legends of the unbeatable game were true. And after hour after hour of crushing defeat Levi snapped and took it out on you. He’s locked himself in his room after. Ashamed, and upset that he hurt you; if his texts were anything to go off of.
“I threw the game away and I’ll never play it again. I promise! I’ll never go all rage beast mode on you again as long as I live! Just please forgive me and talk to me again!”
“Oh Levi, it’s not that serious.” You insist as you reach out your hand to his clasped ones in front of you. Reassuring him. “We all get a little crazy when things don’t go our way. I forgive you. In the future lets try to play games that are a little less….taxing on our relationship, if we can manage.”
“R-R-R! Relationship!” Levi stammered. Turning bright red in front of you, which made you giggle. You lean in to give him a kiss on the cheek. Really frying his circuits. Maybe it was a little bit out of you missing Levi when you were fighting. And maybe it was also his ‘punishment’ for the fight as well.
Satan
Tucking into your homework for the evening, you look up from your desk when there was a knock at the door. It was sharp, to the point. You immediately knew who it was, and debated not answering. However, that would be rude and a level of pettiness not even you could manage.
“Hello Satan,” you greet when you open the door. Correct in guessing who was there. “How can I help you?”
The blonde seemed wounded by your formality, usually such a champion of manners. But he was a clever man and knew you were doing it to put some distance between you. “I came to apologize.”
“As you should.” Ok. Maybe you were a little pettier than you like to admit.
“You’re right, and I should have been here sooner. I was just….embarrassed.” Satan ran his fingers through his hair. “He just makes me so angry sometimes! Being so high and mighty. Bossing us around. I try to keep it under control but….I can’t.” Given he is the Avatar of Wrath, it’s a wonder he made any effort to keep his rage in check. Everyone says he was getting better though. Even his relationship with Lucifer was getting better; even with this spat. “It pains me more than I can tell you to know that I upset you in the process. Turning on you like that like an idiot when you were only trying to help. It was so stupid.”
“It wasn’t very like you.” You admit, and Satan gave a single, bitter scoff.
“Maybe not now. Maybe with you.” Cautiously he reached out his hand to take yours in a gentle hold. “But I am sorry. Please know that I’ll strive to not let my anger get the better of me again.”
“I’m sure you will.” You said. Squeezing his hand back. “And, I forgive you. I should know by now not to get involved with any of your fights. But I care about you all so much.”
“But you care about me most, yes?” He asked with a soft smile. To which you giggle and kiss his cheek.
“Yes. I care for you most.”
Asmo
It was late afternoon when you heard the knock at your door. Typically, everyone was off doing their own activities at this hour, so it was a surprise to have someone looking for you. You open the door cheerfully at first, but then frowned. “Oh. Hello Asmo.”
“Hello [Y/N]-kun.” Asmo greeted brightly, but you could tell it was forced. “I…wanted to come see you. To apologize. For acting so ugly earlier.”
It’s not often that Asmo lost his temper. He usually left that to his silly, older brothers. Rising above in dignified beauty, as he liked to put it. But every now and then it got the best of him, and his tongue was sharper than any knife in the draw when he got that way.
“What you said really hurt Asmo.”
“I know,” he admitted frowning. “I haven’t been able to sleep all night thinking about it. Look at these bags!” You frown as he pointed to his under eyes, and he realized he was being selfish again. “I’m sorry I said such awful things the other day. I don’t have an excuse or fix for it. Except to say that I’m sorry, and I hope you forgive me.”
You let out a soft sigh at his words. He did seem sincere. It was a little odd to see Asmo so down. “Alright, I forgive you.” The demon immediately perked up with his usual smile and took your hands in his.
“Thank you [Y/N]! Let me take you out shopping, as a further apology. I’ll buy you anything you like!”
“So we’ve resorted to bribery now?” Asmo giggled at your joke and you nod. “I’ll right. I guess it wouldn’t hurt to get out. Anything I want?” Asmo nodded and made some suggestions on what you could spend his money on as you walked. Inevitably ending up on lingerie, which earned him a smack.
Beel
You had just gotten back from class when you heard the knock at the door. It startled you. You had only just gotten back a moment ago, so what remarkably good timing.
You finish taking off your uniform jacket before you open the door. Startled, yet again, to find Beel behind it. “Beel?”
“Hi [Y/N].”
An awkward silence filled the space, one that hadn’t been there since you first arrived in the Devildom, before you spoke. “I uh…was going to change. I just got back from class.”
“I know. I waited for you to come back.” The red head confessed. Nervously scratching the back of his head. “I wanted…to talk. I wanted to apologize.”
“You don’t have anything to apologize for.” You reply. Now nervously scratching the back of your head as well. “If anything I should apologize.”
Beel was so sweet and kind. But sometimes, his ‘space cadet ways’ over anything that didn’t involve food or fitness was very hard to deal with. He’d forgotten you were supposed to meet, yet again, so when he showed up an hour late for your date yesterday you had given him an ear full. He’d been hurt, but took it. Now you just felt bad, like you had kicked a puppy, with it over.
“But I should have remembered. It’s not fair that I forgot when we were supposed to meet. Again.” He looked upset with himself and fidgeted with his hands. “I really am sorry I forgot. I don’t want you to think you’re not important or anything. I’m just dumb.”
“You’re not dumb!” You scold Beel. Not accepting him putting himself down like that. “Can’t we just agree that we’re both at fault. You should have remembered, but I shouldn’t have yelled at you either. Can’t we just….make up? I hate fighting with you.”
Beel smiled softly and leaned forward to give you a hug. “I hate fighting too. I think I’ll be ok if we both take blame. That seems fair.” He let you go and stepped back. Seeming back to his usual, easy going self already. “Do you want to do a make up date? If you’re free. I can take you to Madam Scream’s or we can go get Fire Iceies.”
You giggle and nod. “Sure. That would be wonderful.”
Belphie
It was so late at night when you heard the knock at your door that, initially, you thought you dreamt it.
Hearing it again, you woke up and threw on your robe over your pjs to go answer the door. Groggy, and a little concerned as to who could be here at this hour. Something must be wrong.
“Belphie?” You question in a whisper. “What are you doing here?”
“I came to see you.” He said. Remarkably less groggy than you were for a change. “I had to see you.”
“In the middle of the night?” You question. Getting more alert and annoyed at being woken up by him.
“Yes. I couldn’t sleep. Imagine that.” His fingers twirl at his long bangs while he looked down at the floor. “I came to apologize.”
“Apologize?” You repeat. Shocked, more than anything, that he was here to apologize. Not that he did deserve an apology to you, you just didn’t think he’d do it.
“Yes. To apologize. Can we make up now?”
“That’s it??” You remark after his ‘apology’. “You say you’re sorry like that and I’m just supposed to forgive you?”
“Yes. That’s how apologies work.”
“No it isn’t!” You snap. Louder than you wanted to with the late hour. You set your teeth and wheeze through them. You don’t want to start another fight. “You apologize because you feel bad about something and want to make it up to the person. It has to be sincere.”
“I am being sincere.” Belphie insisted. “This is sincere as I get.”
“Well it certainly doesn’t feel like it.” You reply. Crossing your arms.
It was Belphie’s turn to sigh at you. “Look. I’m not like Asmo or the others who are great with words. I came to apologize, and that’s it. I was wrong and I wanted to say I’m sorry. That’s the best I can do.”
“Why do you even want to say your sorry? If you don’t sound like you mean it.”
“Because I hate you being angry with me.” You blink in surprise at Belphie’s confession, and he sighed again. “I hate it. I hate not talking to you. I don’t care what anyone else thinks of me, but if you hate me, I can’t stand it. So, I came to apologize. To do anything so you wouldn’t hate me anymore.”
You uncross your arms and scrunch your lips a little bit. “That’s a better apology.” He looked back up at you with a questioning look. Seeming surprised that he had ‘done good’. “And, I don’t hate you. Just because I’m angry with you, for good reason, doesn’t mean I hate you. I could never hate you.”
The demon smiled softly. His expression tired, but hopeful. “Thanks [Y/N].”
“Now, we need to get back to bed. It is the middle of the night after all. And we have school.”
“Ok.” Belphie agreed. Then stepped into your room and made way to your bed.
“In your own room mister!”
#;ask and ye shall receive (request answers)#obey me#obey me beelzebub#obey me mammon#obey me asmodeus#obey me satan#obey me belphie#obey me beel#obey me leviathan#obey me lucifer#obey me levi#obey me lucifer x reader#obey me levi x reader#obey me mammon x reader#obey me asmo#obey me asmo x reader#obey me satan x reader#obey me belpie x reader#lucifer#leviathan#mammon#satan#asmodeous#beelzebub#belphie#obey me imagines#obey me scenarios#imagine#scenarios
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☆ [nostalgic] summer romance!au jisung
another late birthday au for the february neos ;__;
find others here: johnny | haechan | taeil | taeyong | mark | jaemin | yangyang | yuta | sicheng | chenle | kun | yukhei | doyoung | jaehyun | jungwoo | ten
a sour taste makes its way down jisung's throat
he pulls the candy out of his mouth and scrunches his face up
"did this shit expire?"
renjun's lips thin, "since when have you started cursing?"
chenle harks on the grass beside the other two
"ever since he got dumped."
jisung doesn't disagree.
out of everyone to pick up on his change of habits, it'd be his best friend.
he doesn't like to admit it, but the breakup that launched the beginning of his summer has made him feel different
bitter, angry, empty
he's sure if he told someone older like his parents or a professor they'd explain that it's normal.
it's part of growing up to have to process these horrible emotions and learn to feel them less extremely.
that somehow doesn't comfort jisung at all, why is it his fault that being young makes everything feel more vivid? the shatter of the heart in his chest and all the little pieces wedged up in his veins hurt so bad.
"jisung, you'll find someone better."
renjun ties his shoelaces and gets up, he's still chewing on the taffy they brought from the corner store.
jisung follows and he's never been so awkward about his budding height more than he is now
"i doubt that, i don't think i could find anyone better than my first love."
chenle gives a depressed sounding laugh and renjun starts a spiel about how he's being dramatic and silly
the sounds gloss over in jisung's ears, he tosses the candy he'd spit out and the wrapper over his shoulder
"you shouldn't litter."
three sets of eyes turn to the voice, you stand there with your gym bag over your shoulder on a path a little way down from the grassy hill the boys are on
you look at jisung with an unwavering gaze that drops to where he assumes the candy wrapper landed
you bend down and pick it up, shake your head and walk away
jisung follows your figure through the park as renjun and chenle mutter about how you're kind of right but kind of rude
"do you know them?"
jisung asks and renjun taps the bottom of his chin
"i think ive seen them at the tennis courts."
jisung doesn't know what it is about you.
he mistakenly thinks it is dislike that breeds curiosity when he shows up at the public tennis court the next day
you're out on the court with a group of middle schoolers, showing them the right way to swing a racket
jisung leans against the shade of a tree as you go through each step slowly and then have the kids copy you one by one
when you make a sudden movement to turn in the direction he's standing, he slinks behind the trunk
this is so fucking weird, im being a creep
he doesn't have anything to do for the rest of the day, or the rest of the summer, but still he cringes at himself
i should find something better than staring at a goddamn stranger. chenle was right, im cursing way too much.
so he leaves and he doesn't come back
but he visits the park for the next week with the slight hope that your path will cross with him on accident
not that he entertains that as actual hope - just that curiosity that nips at his heel like a cat asking to be feed
on day seven it happens
jisung is staring up at the expanse of the warm blue sky and you're walking from the direction of the tennis courts, you pause to check your phone and jisung springs to his feet
he's in front of you before he really knows what to even say
you don't look as freaked out as he was scared you might, you actually just blink and then point your finger at him
looks like they've got bad habits just like me
"you're the boy who litters!"
"i don't usually litter, i was just in a bad mood that day."
"doesn't excuse throwing your garbage around."
"is that why you remembered me?"
you slip your phone into the pocket of your duffel bag and shake your head
"no, there's another reason."
jisung itches to ask why but he realizes now that this conversation is going exponentially better than it could have
you could have said something like get the hell away from me....or who are you?
"do you want to walk with me for a little bit?"
fuck, i should have just asked why - asking them to walk is weirder
"why not."
you and jisung do loops around the park - it's pretty big so by the time you're on the third loop the night lamps are coming on and the sun is slowly disappearing
you two have talked about everything and nothing at the same time
jisung asks you if you're going to be at the park tomorrow
"i teach a summer tennis course for the park three times a week, but tomorrow is my off day."
"have any plans?"
he puts his hands in his pockets because they're sweating - i should have asked if they wanted me to carry their bag while we were walking. god did getting broken up with make me so stupid too?
"are you asking me out?"
jisungs palms stick to the fabric of his pants
"i got broken up with before summer started."
he blurts out before he can take it back, you poke your tongue into your cheek
"me too."
the genuine surprise makes jisung look younger than he is and you cross your hands over your chest as if you regret sharing the information
"sorry, i have to go."
you edge around him and jisung has one million thoughts run through his brain, how he should apologize or ask for your number or suggest something that could heal you both in the snap of this one summer minute
but instead he watches you walk ahead for a whole two minutes before you turn on your heel and uncross your arms
"can you meet me here at noon?"
"tomorrow?"
jisung feels the sweat on the nape of his neck now too, matching the moistness on his palms
"no, in twenty years. yes - tomorrow."
he nods and you don't give him anything else to work with as you disappear and jisung catches the last little slither of sunlight wave goodbye with you
"are you rebounding already?"
chenle's voice comes through the headphones as jisung clicks on a zombie with his mouse and shoots it
"it's not a rebound - we both got dumped so i thought we could like...FUCK! i died dude."
chenle groans
"maybe they can help you fix this cursing problem, but uhhh it totally sounds like a rebound to me."
jisung thinks about that as he waits for you at the park
rebounding has actually never even occurred to him as a possibility.
then again falling head over heels and getting tossed aside by the person he thought was his soulmate also never occurred to him as a possibility either - especially not before he's even managed to graduate university
but using someone to feel better about himself - that just isn't him.
"oh you actually came?"
he stops staring at the grass and meets the half smile you're wearing. he matches it with a shy one of his own.
you take jisung's hand easily - as if you weren't strangers a week ago - and tug him toward the park gates
"where-"
you look over your shoulder
"we have to eat ice-cream on a date."
jisung and you have the same taste, getting the same flavor of ice cream with a hard no to sprinkles. you tell jisung about this kid you teach privately for tennis and how he's a little rich brat but his parents always tip you nicely. jisung tells you that his best friend is chenle and they met when he nearly broke an elbow on the first day of middle school.
jisung pays for your bus ticket into the busier part of the city, you beat him at a couple of arcade games, and then he absolutely crushes you at mini-basketball. you pile all your tickets together and jisung tells you to pick the prize you want.
he watches you as you scan the cheap toys and then turn to your left where a younger girl is trying to see if she has enough for a sad looking stuffed panda
you dump the tickets into her hand and grin when her whole face lights up, jisung walks out behind you and goes
"you're actually nice aren't you?"
"oh - you didn't think i was nice when we first met?"
"i-"
jisung stutters when you look directly at him
"i just mean you- it was nice what you did in the arcade."
"why did your ex break up with you?"
jisung's world sort of stops for a moment. you still haven't looked away and he gets lightheaded by the sudden question.
"i don't know."
you nod, as if the answer is what you expected, and you take his hand again and make way toward the bus
he curls his larger fingers around yours and is silently thankful you don't ask for any more details
actually you both don't say anything the ride back, even though you rest your head on his shoulder the entire time
your hands are still clasped together and jisung finds himself not wanting to let go even when you stop in front of the park again
"thanks for the date."
you unwind your fingers first and jisung swallows
"do you want to go on another one?"
you shake your head
"sorry, i don't think i can do this more than once."
genuine shock sets in on jisung's face
"w-what do you mean?"
"i know being heartbroken makes you lonely, it makes me lonely too, but i can't just be someone's summer fling and get abandoned again. plus jisung -"
you tilt your head with a small laugh
"i think you're really cute and if we do this again i will start liking you seriously."
what the fuck do i say?
jisung thinks the summer heat in the air constricts around him - especially when he can't open his mouth to answer and you give a solemn wave as you turn and start to disappear down the sidewalk
fuck fuck fuck fuck
the curses start to hurt his brain and jisung breaks into a sprint to catch you before you make it to the end of the block
slipping his hand back into yours and spinning you to face him
"im not going to abandon you. and i - i already like you so please let me take you on another date."
the words fall out like letters into alphabet soup and you stare wide-eyed at him for about a second before you lean in and kiss him
and jisung forgets the entire language he's spoken since he was a child, curses and vulgarity gone with it
the second date comes and goes, then the third, and then the fourth, fifth, and sixth.
jisung watches you give tennis lessons and you even tug him onto the court one day to help with picking up the scattered balls off the court
the younger kids you teach really adore him, tall and smiley, they cling to him more than they do to you
and there really isn't any way you can stop them because soon enough you feel that urgency to be near him always too
it might be because jisung is so different from your ex, and you are so different from his
the reality is that when you finally tell each other what happened before your respective summers started
it turns out - it's almost exactly the same
jisung looks up at you as you lay across him in the tall grass of an empty corner of the parks sprawling fields, your tennis equipment abandoned and his shoes sitting beside yours in a lazy heap
"they just told me one day i wasn't enough."
you bury your face in his chest and sigh
"maybe im not, maybe something about me is still missing."
the tenor of his voice is sad and you put both hands on the grass to lift yourself up above him, you stare down into the prettiest eyes you've ever seen on a boy in your life
"shuttup park jisung. nothing is missing from you. you're enough."
he gives you a goofy smile and you want so badly to smile back and kiss him but you take the moment seriously and add
"remember when you asked me if i only remembered you because i caught you littering like weeks ago?"
the furrow of his eyebrow is enough of an answer
"i said there was another reason."
he sits up and you fall gently back against his knees and lap, jisung opens his mouth as if to ask what it was but you put your hands on both his cheeks before he can
"that reason was because i could see all of you - people tend to be shrouded in something, but it was all on your face the moment you made eye contact with me. jisung - you're the farthest person i know from being incomplete. you're you and no one else."
the weight of your words comes crashing down on you a second later and you get up off of jisung in a fit of embarrassment
even though you meant what you said it felt like something of a wedding vow than something you say someone you've been dating for only a month
but jisung just breaks into a bigger smile - he pulls you back down into a hug that gets you both covered in grass stains
"im so happy"
you smell the fabric softener on his t-shirt and suddenly wish you could slip it off of him and put it on yourself
his hands tighten around you
"i always thought the other reason was because i was ugly or something."
you scrunch up your nose and tell him to be quiet, but jisung just laughs and buries his nose in your hair
the rest of the summer is smooth and the happiest one you've had so far - and jisung, who had thought it would be hell, agrees
renjun points out that he hasn't heard jisung even utter the word 'damn' since he started dating you
and chenle cuts in that it's true - now whenever they game jisung just groans into the mic (or abandoned the game completely to fool around you with - as it is in chenle's imagination)
you notice it too, and you notice how everyday jisung grows further from the heartbreak that he had festered on for so long
and just becomes more open with you
on your last day at your summer job and what feels like the last day of summer in general, jisung picks you up with balloons
you both hand them out to the kids you worked with and keep one shaped like a big red heart tied around your wrist as you two walk through the dimming evening of the park
fall is coming, your shoulders shake and jisung pulls you closer into him, and when he stops suddenly
you see that you're in the place where you first met - when jisung had let that candy wrapper tumble down a grassy hill and you had picked it up with disdain
"is untying the balloon and letting it float off considered littering?"
he asks and you think for a second
"probably, it'll get stuck in a tree somewhere and we don't want that."
he looks down and leans in to kiss you gently, letting your lower lip sit between his teeth for a moment before he pulls away
"can we do it anyway to make the moment special?"
you look at him, eyes clear as day, and answer
"every moment is special with you."
jisung manages to get ten of those red balloons through the door of your shared apartment on your tenth anniversary
you fret about how balloons are bad for the environment, but still launch yourself at him in a big hug when he gets them all settled into your living room
he catches you, laughing as you both muse that you can't believe it has been ten years since you met
"and i haven't cursed once since then - can you believe it?"
you roll your eyes and say yeah sure, like he didn't curse when he stubbed his toe on your bed this morning
he pouts his lip and asks, "play along ok - just say i haven't cursed once."
"you haven't cursed once in the ten years we have been dating."
something twinkles in jisung's eye and you bite back your lip
"exactly - so is it ok if i curse this one time and say-"
he fishes something out of his pocket that looks like a small box, you think your breath catches in your throat
"i fuc-freaking love you - will you marry me?"
#i know this is read from jisung's perspective in the beginning but i didn't know how else to get across the like cursing thing#if i wasnt writing from his kind of vision but like the turning point shifts to the reader#anyway none of you give a fuck so ill stop talking#nct scenarios#nct dream scenarios#park jisung#jisung scenarios#jisung au#jisung imagines#nct imagines#nct dream imagines#nct dream au#nct dream#sfw#cursing/#nostalgia
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Hello there, hope you're having a great day! What about mc×main 6 from the arcana in a bitter argument? (Angsty as possible pls) thank-you and have a great day❤️
I AM SO SORRY THESE TOOK SO LONG LOL. I had most of them written out and then the muse decided to LEAVE. *shakes fist at the sky*
I hope you don’t mind me going buck wild with Lucio lol. He is PRIME for this kinda angst. And as a reminder, COMMUNICATE WITH YOUR PARTNER.
Requests are open! I move at the pace of a sedated turtle but I WILL GET TO THEM LOL.
Enjoy!
Main six x MC argument
~~~~
Julian
Fights with Julian get a little...intense
He’s not really good with the whole, fighting with the person he loves things
Will probably cry from frustration
It also gets LOUD. You both will start at a normal voice and slowly it will rise to yelling
Never hurles insults, but hearing the hurt in his voice? Almost worse. And hearing how hurt you are? Man that’s a gut punch
He’s most likely gonna storm off (dramatically but I digress)
Sorry it’ll take him quite a long time to cool down
Feels SUPER awful about what he said in the head of the moment
Like just plain: “I’m a terrible person” awful
Brings you flowers to apologize. His voice is always super soft and nervous
You guys don’t fight super often but they can blow up when you do
Bring him flowers after you fight please. He’ll keep them on either his desk at work or on his bedside.
When he sees you’ve cooled off as well he’s going to hug you. Scoop you up if he can in a nice strong hug.
Asra
Asra fights get um...super nasty. You two know one another super well and things get blown up super quickly
They don’t happen often at all. Only when something boils over
But it’s always crying and almost incoherent worry and yelling. They’re a mess over you, running their hands through their hair so much you fear they might tear it out
Will leave to let you calm down and give you space. Usually goes to the dock to cry by himself and think things over. Faust is always conflicted when you guys fight
She doesn’t want to leave you to die again.
Asra never stays mad at you long, just needs time to cool down
Says tons of things he doesn’t mean but in the moment it’s all he has. Of course you throw things back and loads of feelings get hurt
Always feels terrible after. Always. Sometimes he even cries quietly to himself if it was really nasty
After arguments might take him hours or days to cool off enough to apologize
Likes talking things out with you over pumpkin bread and tea over big extravagant gifts
After an argument they’re good at talking things out with you. Always ends with a hug and him rocking you back and forth while trying to memorize your feel and smell
Nadia
Her words are SO sharp and they cut SUPER DEEP
Doesn’t hold back sometimes it feels like her words are tiny knives being thrown at you
If she says something truly uncalled for, her eyes go wide and she covers her mouth with her hands
She’s always a poised kind of angry. When she’s super upset she’ll be in tears.
She has siblings, she knows where to get you where it hurts. She aims to hurt in arguments
Never means it and always realizes in HORROR what she just said to you
Stays in another room for a bit after the fight. Depending on how bad the argument was she cries herself to sleep
You don’t fight with any of the Main Six often but sometimes things happen and people snap
Fighting with Nadia usually happens when she’s exhausted and you want her to sleep and things just explode
She’s usually the one coming back to you to apologize. Even if you were wrong, she hates upsetting you. When you apologize back her feelings come to a head and she just moves in to hug you so hard your back pops
Muriel
He kind of spaces out
Like he’s super upset but his replies to you are usually little grunts and he doesn’t quite meet your eyes
Unless you did something. Then he’s all up in arms, upset and sometimes he’ll tear up (especially if you put yourself in a ton of danger and he almost lost you)
He tries to keep his voice level. The first time he raised his voice at you you flinched and he ran away after seeing the reaction
He tries not to raise his voice at you, but sometimes it’s hard and usually you two will be loud at one another. Inanna is no fan
Fights with him are once in a blue moon. Usually they’re little lectures and you two understanding one another. But sometimes they do happen and they are just awful for the both of you
Feelings are up in the air, anger and worry is palpable. If you don’t take care of yourself, who will? kind of stuff
Wants to hug you after you’re done so bad, but stays stiff as a board to watch your reaction. It hurts sometimes
Makes you a little gift as a peace offering, (bring him back forget-me-nots)
Will hold you for a long time after you make up after a fight. (cuddle him PLEASE I BEG OF YOU)
Portia
Lots of yelling. Not intentional she’s just loud and you have to yell to be heard as well
Pepi usually runs to hide when you guys fight
Portia is the type to pace and throw her arms in the air.
And she’ll cry. She hates it, but she cries when she’s furious. Who knows what you two are mad and fighting by this point everything comes bubbling to the surface
She’ll storm out of the house to cry alone somewhere and get herself together
It can um...get fairly nasty at times. Hurling insults doesn’t really happen but her breaking down sobbing with every word does
Not a pretty sight
It’s hard arguing with someone you love so much, so she’ll come crying back as well. She just wants a hug ;-;
It’ll be awkward for a while after, but after you failed to bake something as a peace offering it’s broken. She’ll help you bake something new (cottagecore WIFE)
Lucio
So the question is what do you guys NOT fight about
Lucio is a tricky guy to be with I’m not gonna lie. He’s done some shitty things and doesn’t understand a lot of those
Will take time for him to get there and fully understand why people don’t like him
But man is it a sore spot and he will fight with you about it. A lot. And it just...lord it gets really bad
He’s not the type to cry during an argument. After though? Fair game.
And he always wants to be by you after. Talk to me I’m lonely type beat. If you don’t want to talk that’s further salt in the wound
But things just blow UP. He’s dramatic, childish, and ANGRY. His voice is so thick with fury it hurts to have it directed at you
Like chest heaving, near tears, regretting everything you just said kind of spats. When Lucio is mad he is MAD. Like Nadia, his words are like ice
Without meaning to, he aims to hurt you. And hurt he DOES
When he comes to his senses he’s running away
Will come to you first, with gifts anywhere from super extravagant to something only he would get you. And apologizes. Even if you caused the argument he blew it all up
He’s lonely and touch starved, he’s not gonna let you go (and he’s gonna be crying)
Cookies are a good thing to give to him back. It’ll prolly make you two end up on the bed snacking on them while just talking and cuddling.
#the arcana#the arcana game#the arcana headcanons#julian devorak#asra alnazar#nadia satrinava#muriel#muriel of the kokhuri#lucio morgasson#portia devorak#arugment headcanons#angst
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questions and answers
He had meant to be rude. And it had not worked even a little bit. Eodwulf is sure that anyone else would have been offended. Hell, he’s even sure that the other members of this weird group were absolutely offended on behalf of their friend. But Eodwulf can’t say he has ever met a person like this.
There was no malice, no ill intent, no anger.
When you work with Trent you have to be aware of every little shift in the mood. The slightest twitch of an eyebrow can mean the weather is about to turn foul. Eodwulf knows what to look out for. It had been his intent to rev this weirdo up and it had backfired spectacularly.
Damn.
No meat. No booze. And balls of steel, apparently. Eodwulf had never seen anyone talk to Trent like that. And while Bren‘s—Caleb‘s—words of wanting to kill Trent outright had been more than Eodwulf would ever admit to his mentor, it somehow felt less crazily reckless than to call Trent Ikithon, Archmage of Civil Influence for the Cerberus Assembly and one of the most powerful mages in the Empire, a fucking fool.
To his face. With a smile. In a complete sincere manner.
Eodwulf doesn’t want to replay the words in his head over and over again but his dumb brain has latched onto them and he can’t stop. Only this time it’s not one of Trent’s lessons that forces him to obsessively repeat something until you have internalized it to the point where you can cite it in your sleep.
No.
“Pain doesn’t make people. It’s love that makes people.“
Eodwulf has it on repeat in his head the whole way back to the tower and it is still going when he lies down hours later to sleep.
“What are you“ had not been meant as a serious question when Eodwulf had asked it. But by the time he finally falls asleep he feels like it has become a very vital question indeed, because who or what would dare to speak to Master Trent Ikithon in a way like this with an honest smile on their face.
*
Because for some reason his thoughts have decided to betray him, Eodwulf’s brain makes his tongue and lips form the words again when they see the Mighty Nein the next time. This time, Astrid and Eodwulf have been invited to dinner—Trent has very specifically not been invited, you could say he was uninvited with quite a few flowery words in a strange accent.
And as soon as Eodwulf sees Caduceus he remembers the weirdly polite scratching of a chair, the wide smile that indicates that this is a person Eodwulf possibly can not force to lose their composure through careful placed rudeness. And his mouth betrays him.
“So. What are you, really?“
Caduceus blinks mildly surprised before his unfamiliar features shift into a warm smile that has Eodwulf feel quite a lot of inappropriate things he didn’t expect to find in a place like this.
“Gardener. Maker of fine tea. A decent cook. Keeper of graves“, Caduceus lists of and he uses his long fingers to count the things that are important to him about himself.
“Very powerful cleric“, Jester chimes in from the right. She has Astrid next to her in a chair and Eodwulf is pretty sure that Jester has started to put flowers in Astrid’s hair. But surely he must be mistaken. Who in the Nine Hells are these crazy people?
“Oh, yeah. Well, that too, I suppose“, Caduceus says, his smile still warm like honeyed wine.
“Huh“, Eodwulf says because he can’t for the life of him think of something else to say. But Caduceus is yet again pulling out a chair for him so Eodwulf straightens his shoulders and sits down next to Caduceus. Across the table from him the angry one throws herself into a chair and stares at him.
There’s no fear there either, but she can be easily angered, something Eodwulf is good at. He gives her a canine smile and she holds up her middle finger.
This group is full of people with an enormous lack of self preservation.
And they are so loud.
Eodwulf almost doesn’t hear it when Caduceus turns to him to ask him a question.
“Huh?“, he says again, like a fool.
“And what are you, was what I wanted to know“, Caduceus says, his lazy grin open and honest. There is no malice in his words. He actually wants to know.
Eodwulf thinks “Murderer, wizard, protégé, spy“ but he doesn’t say any of these things. “Maker of graves“ comes to mind, but it seems like too dark of a joke to make.
“Enthusiastic about both meat and booze“, he says in the end and Caduceus laughs.
“Yeah, as are most of my friends.“
The implication these words bring is probably only in Eodwulf’s mind but it makes him swallow and look away to find Astrid’s eyes. But Astrid now has pink flowers in her hair and a look of absolute confusion on her face as Jester rattles of compliment after compliment about various of Astrid’s features.
Eodwulf can’t help but look at Bre—Caleb. And he sees that there is a soft, barely noticeable smile on his old friend’s face as he watches the scene unfold.
What am I, indeed, he thinks.
*
Trent’s orders have been clear. Get close to the group called the Mighty Nein to find out what they are working on with Lady Vess DeRogna.
Eodwulf allows himself to think that Caduceus might have been right. Maybe Master Ikithon is indeed a fool.
Because being in the presence of these people is like nothing Eodwulf has ever experienced and it makes him think, wonder, question—
“Here we are again“, Caduceus says after, yet again, Astrid and Eodwulf have been invited for dinner. Eodwulf wonders if this group just wants to make it very easy to spy on them, or if they have an agenda of their own—but it’s hard to believe that there might be any coherent agenda behind anything these people do.
He has watched the buff one called Yasha try and play what looked like a harp made of bone and when the angry one, Beau, told her that she looked hot playing the harp Yasha had torn two of the strings which had led to a whole scene of apologies and various tries to fix the harp.
Jester has drawn dicks on pretty much every surface this magical mansion has and she delights in the fact that Caleb brings the dicks to life in various colors. At some point he made glowing sparkles shoot out of one of the dicks Jester had drawn and Jester had laughed as if this was the best joke she had ever witnessed.
Eodwulf notices Astrid’s eyes on Jester.
Eodwulf also notices that while there seems to be no agenda or efficiency behind anything, they are still being watched.
Beau and Fjord look at them. And Eodwulf is pretty sure Caduceus watches everything as well, but he does it without crossing his arms and glaring so much.
“Looks like it”, he answers. Caduceus offers him tea and Eodwulf’s first instinct is to decline, but then he remembers that “maker of fine tea” had been very high on the list of descriptors so he takes the cup he is offered while somewhere in the background people start screaming something that sounds like “FLUFFERNUTTER”.
Eodwulf tries the tea. He’s not a fan of tea, but this tea is absolutely delicious and he finds himself impressed.
“I believe this one comes from the Hollburns’ graves. Those remains made the tea grow quite fast, it was impressive.”
Eodwulf blinks at his tea and then at Caduceus. For a second his brain wonders if this statement should register as a threat, but it had been delivered with such honest delight and a sense of pride that Eodwulf discards that feeling.
“What?”, he asks.
Caduceus points at the tea.
“Oh, well, my family grows tea on those graves we’re keeping. In case you wanted to ask me again what I am. Or—hm, I think I already mentioned that I am a keeper of graves?”
Caduceus trails off and looks thoughtful and Eodwulf stares at him.
“Keeper of Graves. That make you a follower of the Matron?”, he asks.
Caduceus looks at him and smiles.
“Not quite. My family serves Melora. But we are descended from a champion of the Raven Queen.”
Eodwulf can’t help but wonder if this was some kind of weird joke. But his goddess usually isn’t one for joking.
Eodwulf considers for a second, then he pulls out the raven feather pendant from under his cloak.
Caduceus nods.
“So”, he says and smiles widely. “What are you?”
Eodwulf snorts.
“For real?”, he says.
Caduceus’ smile widens.
“For real.”
*
It feels like this has become a sort of game.
“What are you?”
“Moral compass. Middle sibling. Eccentric. Amateur flute player.”
Eodwulf finds that through this question he himself posed the first time, he’s been forced to think more about himself than he feels comfortable with.
“What are you?”
“Decent chess player. Dog person. Sportsman. Only child.”, are the things he says out loud.
“Self-made orphan. Patriot. Volstrucker. Torturer.”, are the things he thinks to himself.
Eodwulf has the impression that Caduceus is somehow aware of the things he doesn’t say.
*
“So. This is the crew you’re running with now?”, Eodwulf asks Bre—Caleb one night before the Mighty Nein will leave with Vess DeRogna to who-knows-where. Neither Astrid nor Eodwulf did get very far with their planned infiltration work. Eodwulf is not even sure how hard they even tried.
It’s very easy to get swept away by the chaos and the weirdness and the complete lack of fear that the group displays when it comes to him and Astrid. They are dangerous people in a lot of ways.
The Mighty Nein are also dangerous people in a very different way. A way that Eodwulf doesn’t know anything about.
“This is my family, ja.”
He says it, just like that, without looking at Eodwulf.
Family.
The word tastes bitter in Eodwulf’s mouth as he leans back in his chair and crosses his arms.
“Weird people”, he says. Caleb huffs.
“You can say that, yes. But they grow on you very quickly”, he answers quietly and with a small, fond smile that makes something inside Eodwulf ache. For a long time Eodwulf pitied Bren for breaking, for not making it, for failing, for being locked away and discarded. Now he realizes that maybe, in a very macabre sort of way, Bren becoming Caleb through failure was the better end of the bargain.
It feels blasphemous to think that.
“The pink one is especially weird”, Eodwulf finds himself saying and he takes a big swig of whiskey from his flask before handing it to Caleb.
“Ja, I noticed that you seem to have a... uh... particular kind of interest in him. And, if I may add, he in you.”
Eodwulf takes the flask back after Caleb drinks. He contemplates the different sorts of feelings inside his gut as the words sink in. Then he tucks it all away very carefully, just as he learned through many years of being in Trent’s presence.
“Still don’t know what he is”, Eodwulf says. Caleb snorts and shakes his head.
“His people are called Firbolg”, he provides.
“Not sure that’s what I mean. Not anymore, at least.”
It seems dangerous to admit that. Caleb turns his head and looks at Eodwulf with a shimmer in his eyes that Eodwulf can’t read. Many years ago he was able to read Bren like an open book, but Caleb is another book entirely.
“You deserve to have some nice things, you know. You deserve friends. A chance of—hm. A chance of peace. A chance for redemption, if you want it.”
Eodwulf gets up and tugs away his flask.
“Pain doesn’t make people. It’s love that makes people. Pain is inconsequential, it’s love that saves them.”
Eodwulf understands the truth in these words now. Bren was broken, Caleb is being healed. Eodwulf doesn’t think that there’s anything left in him that can be saved. Or should be saved.
“Good luck on your journey tomorrow. Don’t die”, Eodwulf says and he leaves Caleb behind.
What are you, he thinks. A sentimental fool.
*
Astrid sits next to him on one of the balconies of her house and looks up at the stars above them. The Mighty Nein have been gone for six days and it has been very quiet.
They sit in silence and share a bottle of whiskey, passing it back and forth instead of words. It’s been like this for many many years that they’ve allowed themselves to just be. Today though, Astrid breaks the silence.
“I’m going to be the one who kills him.”
She says it quietly, without remorse, without indicating that this is a scandalous statement. She says it just how other people would say “I’ll go to bed soon.”.
Eodwulf stops breathing for just a moment. Then he inhales the cool night air and turns his head to look at her.
“Could kill you for treason”, he says. She looks at him and cocks her head slightly, the analyzing gaze of a murderous spy meets its equal in silence.
“I’d love to see you try”, she says. Eodwulf grins. It feels reckless.
“Don’t die”, he says, the same thing he’s said to Caleb before. Astrid regards him for a long moment and Eodwulf takes another sip.
“Will you help me or try to stop me?”
Eodwulf considers this for a moment. Would he try to stop Astrid should she try to kill Trent? No. Would he help her? He doesn’t know that either.
“Can’t you just wait for Bren to do it for you?”
“I won’t lose to him again.”
Eodwulf snorts.
Always so competitive.
“That’s some fucked up shit, Astrid.”
“Shut up, Arschloch.”
Eodwulf grins before getting up to stretch. He puts his hands on the railing of Astrid’s balcony and wonders what Caleb’s new family is up to.
Making a new family never came to mind before. It sounds like something out of a fairy tale. While he contemplates the question whether he would help Astrid kill Trent Ikithon, a slow, familiar voice pops up in his head.
“Hey. Uh—Jester told me to send you an update. We’re still alive. Hope you’re good. Got a new question for you. What will you become?”
The rustling of Astrid’s clothes as she stands up as well somehow tells him that she received a message in her head as well. She steps beside him and puts her hands on the railing next to his.
“They’re persistent”, she says quietly.
Eodwulf nods and inhales.
He doesn’t know what he will become. He didn’t even know that was a question to be asked. The path is clear. It always was.
Pain doesn’t make people.
“Not going to answer?”, she wants to know.
“Don’t have an answer yet.”
It’s unclear to him whether she means her own question or the message Caduceus just sent him.
He answers the sending spell with a simple “I don’t know.”. It takes a few minutes before another message comes in.
“That’s good. Uncertainty is good. It’s the first step in a better direction. I’m going to kill a dragon now. Wish me luck. Good night.”
“I’ll keep you posted on the answer to that question of yours. I’ll see you tomorrow”, he says and leaves Astrid behind on the balcony. Eodwulf thinks about something he hasn’t thought about in a very long time. A priestess in his Matron’s temple once told him: “Death is the only certainty in life.”.
He thinks that Caduceus would agree.
And Eodwulf hopes that the next time he sees that weird, reckless man, he’ll have an answer for him.
#cadwulf#blumengrove#caduceus clay#critfic#critical role#eodwulf#cr spoilers#fanfiction#caduceus#text#screeching into the void#this got a bit out of hand#but i just wanted to get some stuff out of my system
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zeke yeager | my baby
this is bc of the new episode; i’ve known his backstory for a while but i didn’t come up with the idea until now LFMAOOAOA
anyways zeke supremacy
edit: this is so bad but enjoy LMFOAOAOA
warnings/notes: this is strictly platonic, takes place in canonverse during zeke’s childhood then to the beginning of season 4, cursing, mentions of mental abuse from family, murder, fem!reader(feel free to change if u want), yeah i’m unoriginal and the reader is the female titan before annie, angst,
when you first met zeke, zeke was extremely hesitant towards you.
grisha and dina had brought you into the house, a 17 year old girl who had soft and gentle eyes along with a nice smile. zeke had recognized you from the warrior program. you hadn’t inherited your titan just yet, you still had a few more years before they would allow it to be given to you. your predecessor gained the titan around your age, no one really knows why. zeke assumes that it must be a similar case with mr. ksaver and himself.
it shocked zeke in all honesty. they’re letting a warrior watch over him? one that isn’t in cahoots with his mother and father?
it wasn’t until grisha and dina pulled him into a different room and told him to get information on your views that he understood why. they wanted to use you, just like they wanted to use zeke. the worst of it all was that zeke knows you. he looks up to you, you graduated third out of all of your peers, you express love with the younger candidates such as zeke.
he felt like curling up in his bed and crying, he didn’t want you to babysit him just so his parents could use you.
but whenever the couple left, your arms encased him in warmth. you were hugging him tightly to you, fingernails surely digging into the fabric of his shirt. he felt his eyes widen whenever he felt a drop of a liquid on his shoulder. you were crying.
you pulled away and put a hand on his cheek, looking at him with endearment. zeke started crying at this, not once had dina touched him like this. not once had grisha looked at him like this.
“it’s okay, my boy,” you pull him close again, “i’m here.”
for the first time, zeke wasn’t cowering in a corner while he sobbed. he sobbed in the arms of a person, one that loved him dearly whether he knew it or not. you were even crying for him.
“my mother and father were apart of the same group,” you whispered as you stroked his hair, “they pushed me so far to my limits.”
“so, i did something i regret,” you sob, “something i hope you’re never forced to do.”
your whimper gave him chills, “i murdered my mother with a butcher knife and pinned the crime onto my father. all at the age of ten. to this day, i don’t know how i got away with it. maybe the police pitied me or found it excusable because of their affiliations with the group.”
“you hurt someone,” he sniffles, eyes widened in fear.
it gave you a frown, however you couldn’t blame him, “i did. it was mistake and i wish i had never done it. i just wished for my mother and father to love me, not to use me. after that, i found myself in the warrior program. maybe with this power, i could do some good. to show marley that us eldians are not devils.”
you rid him of his snot and tears with your shirt, “when i saw your father the time he came to observe you, i was immediately able to tell. your reaction had said it all. i can’t allow myself to witness you go through what i did without doing something. even if it’s small.”
he blinks at you after you softly kiss him on his forehead.
“now, is there anything you want to do?”
————
that afternoon, you played catch and volleyball with zeke. after that, you bought him whatever meal he wanted from the market and ate with him at the table. he told you about his stuffed monkey, who he named jerry, and his adventures.
he was sad when you had to leave, to which dina and grisha informed him you would come to their home sparingly. although he was delighted, he was also sad.
the next day, you doted on him during the short breaks between his training. patting his head, shaking him by his shoulders, and giving him a hug. when lunch came around, you pulled out a home cooked lunch for him as you sat on a bench. you would give him advice with training and his health while he ate.
he even shared some of his food with her.
after that was his time with ksaver. he didn’t see you during that time, obviously, but that didn’t mean you didn’t come during their conversations.
zeke was surprised to hear the praising from ksaver. ksaver said that you were a good figure for him and that you had a genuine heart. it made him feel at ease.
when the day was over, you walked zeke home and even ate dinner with him and his parents. it was a surprise that made you slightly bitter, but you accepted nonetheless.
they talked to you excitedly, asking about your duties as a warrior. you exceptionally avoided answering the questions, instead prodding at their own occupations and duties.
in the end, it felt like a game of tag. avoiding and then charging.
the night you were on your way to watch zeke, you felt your heart drop at the feral screeching of grisha and the reassurance of dina. you banged your fist against the door worriedly, sweat forming at your hairline.
the yelling stopped and you heard the patter of footsteps against the floor. dina looked flustered as she opened the door, face tear stained and eyebrows knitted up in concern.
“oh, (name), we don’t need you to watch over him anymore.”
“no, please, allow me,” you put on a fake smile that made her relax.
“you can take him out for a bit,” she, surprisingly, compromised and stepped aside to let you inside.
you bolted to zeke’s dark room. he was in a corner with his knees pushed against his chest and his hands covering his ears. his tears were making puddles on his knees as he stared blankly at the wall. you rush to him, pulling his head into your chest and picking him up.
“it’s alright,” you whispered, “you’ll be with me for a little bit.”
he didn’t respond but just wiped his eyes when he realized he would pass by his mom. you gave dina a brisk goodbye before leaving and taking him to a nearby park.
“it’s alright, my boy, it’s alright,” you coo and stroke his sweaty back.
for once, he felt okay.
————
the day zeke reported his parents, you held him in your arms. from then, he stayed with his grandparents and often found himself spending time with you after training when his schedule allowed it.
now, zeke is 16 and you’re 29. zeke was often seen with you or ksaver during his free time, now having the power of the best titan secured when ksaver’s term is up.
you mentor a girl named annie leonhardt, the next inheritor of the female titan. zeke occasionally sees you and annie catching some bugs in the grass during your mentoring. other days, you talk to her or just look at the sky. once at the beginning of the year, he once saw you take annie ice skating over a lake.
when he spends his time with you, you’re often doting on him and taking care of him. one time, you convinced the kids and some of the older soldiers to all play a game of baseball after your training was over.
you walked the extra mile for zeke no matter what. zeke was in trouble during a war and you swatted him into the trenches with your hand before attacking the enemy a year ago. whenever zeke would get hurt, you’d be his nurse.
if zeke’s being honest, you’re the maternal figure in his life. you act as if he’s your son, love him like he’s your son, and sometimes you even let it slip and call him that. sometimes zeke messes up and calls you mom.
in your eyes, he is your son.
in his eyes, you’re his mom.
but with being a parental figure came with fighting. it didn’t happen often, but whenever it did it was bad. zeke would become more irritable and angry while you would become reserved and melancholy.
when zeke was 14, you got into a fight so bad that it ended up getting you bedridden. you’d been sick from stress and it lasted for weeks until zeke swallowed his pride and apologized.
it almost made bertholdt, annie, reiner, porco, pieck, and marcel laugh at how domestic the two of you are when together. but as soon as you left zeke’s side, he would revert back to his quiet and receptive personality.
“zeke, my boy,” you call as you walk towards all the warrior candidates, “i’ve got your favorite.”
“thanks,” he hums when you stand beside him.
“i also brought some food for you all too. since we didn’t have training today, i thought you all could enjoy a nice break by having a picnic,” you clap your hands with a smile and they all feel like they’re seeing an angel.
they all agree and follow behind you when you start leading them towards a grassy field. you set the basket down and rummage through it, pulling out a nice thick blanket so the blades of the grass wouldn’t poke through.
“help me lay this out,” zeke sighs but obliges.
with zeke’s help, everyone is sitting on the blanket and eating and conversing. you listen quietly as you chew on the sandwich you made.
“miss (name),” pieck’s soft voice said beside you, “thank you for the picnic.”
you smile and shake your head, cheeks puffing out from the food that’s still in your mouth.
“can we do this again,” shyly asks reiner.
you gulp down your food and choke a bit, “y-yes! of course!”
you turn to zeke and speak quietly, “how was training yesterday?”
“it was fine. my calves are kind of sore though, it’s been a while since we did squats,” he shrugs and looks up, “ksaver let me pitch to him again.”
“i’m assuming it was at least enjoyable?”
“yeah...,” he trails off, “could you massage my calves for me in a little while?”
you pinch his cheek as you laugh, “of course! anything for you, my child.”
he chuckles while he swats at your hand, “quit that. it hurts.”
before you could pinch him even harder, porco’s loud voice interrupted.
“miss (name), are you zeke’s mom?”
his brother and annie hit him, scolding him in whispers.
“i-i’m so sorry miss (name)..! my brother means no harm,” marcel stutters nervously.
“it’s alright, i don’t mind,” zeke’s slightly flustered, “but no, i’m not zeke’s mother.”
“so why do you act so friendly?”
“i met zeke when i was 17 and he was just a little boy. i would watch him while his grandparents were away,” you lie like it’s nothing.
“i’ve always seen zeke as my little boy though even if i’m only 13 years older,” it has them all gaping and zeke staring at his food.
“why’d you become a warrior then,” reiner blurts out, slapping a hand over his mouth in shame, “sorry... but with all due respect, you have a family you love and who love you... why would you let your life end so short?”
for just a second the smile on your face cracks into a frown as you feel your throat tighten up, “why are you asking such disrespectful questions? i understand you have no malicious intent, however it sounds as if you are seeing my decision as an ignorant one. are you calling me ignorant for becoming a warrior?”
zeke just looks away sadly. you never really had to put on this demanding ploy too much since no one dared to ask a question such as reiner did. not to mention that you had to in order to keep your position. reiner scrambles to pledge his loyalty to marley with your eyes burning holes into his head.
the others slightly cower in fear, they’d only ever heard that you could be like this from their mentors. but when they all looked in your, now, sad eyes, they relaxed.
“but, to answer your question,” you say reluctantly, “i was already selected to inherit the female titan.”
“now,” you cough and zeke knows it’s because you want to cry, “i need to go.”
they all help you get everything together, fidgeting anxious as they watch you walk back to the dorm. when you were far enough away, porco shouts at reiner for asking such questions and ruining the picnic. it ends up with annie joining in with the berating and marcel slapping porco upside the head.
zeke just leaves and follows you. he can’t be bothered to listen to them argue while you’re probably crying.
zeke knew it was about your 13 years coming to an end, meaning you wouldn’t be with him anymore. the first time he brought it up, you sobbed out apologies while holding his head to your chest. zeke knows not to bring it up again.
however, reiner didn’t. although he was slightly frustrated with reiner, he understood that he meant no harm to you. sometimes reiner just doesn’t think before he speaks.
zeke finds you with your head in your hands as you cry on your bed. the creaking of the door opening has you looking up and making eye contact and your eyes fill up with tears. zeke shut the door behind him and sat next to you after you pat the spot beside you.
zeke knows what’s going to happen, but allows it anyways because it puts you both at ease.
you cradle his head to your chest, stroking his hair with one hand and his back with another. zeke feels himself starting to cry when you cry out apologies and exclamations of love.
“zeke, my boy, i love you,” you whimper, “i’m so sorry i cannot be by your side until i grow old.”
zeke’s fingers curl into the fabric of your shirt and let’s out a broken sob.
“you’re the light of my life, zeke,” you whisper, “my beautiful boy, my beautiful baby.”
his shoulders shake and he wanted to tell you to stop and to pull away. but he won’t.
“you’re the son i never had, zeke, did you know that,” you sob and squeeze him tight.
it has him wailing and holding you tight. though zeke knew this, you never said it out loud.
“my baby, my baby,” you croak, “i love you so much, zeke.”
“love you too,” he chokes out, muffled by your shirt.
“zeke, my boy, my son, my zeke.”
“please don’t leave me,” it makes you sob even louder.
“i’m so sorry, zeke, i’m so sorry.”
————
zeke couldn’t look in annie’s direction after your term ended and her’s started. even at 29 years of age, he still curls up in a ball and cries himself to sleep. he carries a photograph of the two of you, he remembers taking the picture on your 26th birthday.
back on marley, whenever you were brought up in conversations, reiner, porco, and pieck stared at him with sympathy.
after zeke’s arms grow back on the blimp, he pulls out the folded photograph from his pocket. he stares at your beaming smile.
“who’s the girl,” eren asks, ignoring how yelena looks at him fiercely, “when’d you get a girlfriend?”
zeke shakes his head, “not a girlfriend.”
“who is she then,” eren gestures with his hand, the clinking of the metal chains echoing in the small room on the blimp.
“my mother,” he murmurs while he hands it to eren.
“dina doesn’t look like that.”
“eren, did you ever see a memory of a woman being introduced as a babysitter?”
“now that it’s being mentioned, yea.”
“that’s her,” the memory has him chuckling, “she treated me like her son before she died.”
eren transfers his gaze to yelena, a silent request for her to give more information.
“(name) (last name) was the inheritor of the female titan before annie leonhardt. she inherited the titan a few months after she turned 17, her predecessor, flora, was unexpectedly injured during war and was not able to regenerate. although disorganized and unexpected, (name) managed to eat flora. she died at the age of 30 when annie ate her as a pure titan,” yelena elaborates hesitantly as zeke’s small smile fades, “she was often recognized for her kind personality and optimistic attitude.”
“i see,” he said.
“were you her beautiful boy,” eren taunts.
“yes. i was.”
he sounds sad while he folds it back up and puts it in his pocket.
maybe he could be the same to eren.
#attack on titan#shingeki no kyojin#snk#aot fanfiction#zeke yeager#zeke yeager x reader#snk zeke#zeke x reader#attack on titan zeke#zeke jaeger#shingeki no kyojin zeke#zeke x you#snk angst
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