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hedghost · 1 year

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alessia russo | make you my problem

sick of her family's endless questions about her dating life, alessia invents a fake girlfriend to get them off her back. unfortunately, now she has to deal with the consequences, which means dealing with you.

(fake dating fic inspired by business by catfish and the bottlemen)

word count: 13.5k

alessia stared down at the card in her hand. her eyes flicked over the perfectly printed calligraphy for the hundredth time that day. it was the first time she'd got it out since it had been delivered three months ago, when she'd promptly piled it beneath a stack of bills on the countertop, and tried to ignore it. unfortunately, the solution hadn't magically appeared as she'd hoped it would, and the wedding was fast approaching.

she read the words again, her expression burning lasers into the paper.

formally invited... et cetera et cetera... the wedding of luca russo... so on and so forth... invites alessia russo... and there was the kicker... plus one.

to really rub salt in the wound, her brother luca had scribbled a sharpie winky face next to the last bit, obscuring the ornate lettering with a scruffy, mocking squiggle.

let it be clear, alessia enjoyed her life the way it was. she enjoyed not being tied down by the constraints of someone else, she enjoyed her own space, her independence. she'd curated her own little routines, her own little preferences, and now she was free to bask in the luxuries of single life. but still, her heart tugged a little at the card - and its implications.

when luca had asked if she'd wanted a plus one to the wedding, months ago, she'd been tempted to answer truthfully, and decline. it was the look on his face however, that teasing smirk that was always so prevalent between siblings, that changed her mind. if she said no, she'd be subject to the usual smug commentary from her brothers, both of whom were happily partnered off, and the unbearably not-so-subtle questions from her parents about her dating life. and so she did her best impression of nonchalance, waved him off with a non-committal smile, and said yes.

she had braced herself for the comments, let it wash off her back when her mum asked her if she had 'finally found someone', or when her other brother gio gave her a vastly sceptical look, like he couldn't believe she'd ever bring a date. it was fine. she was used to this.

as much as alessia loved single life, it would be a lie to say it didn't sting when she turned up to every family gathering alone, watching everyone else with their partners. it would be a lie to say the ribbing and teasing from her brothers didn't hurt a little, that it didn't play on some deep-rooted insecurity she'd tried so hard to stamp out. she told herself it was better this way, but year by year, she watched from the side-lines as all her friends seemed to find their other halves, and yet here she remained, as luca had once said; a 'lone wolf'.

so she'd said yes, when the wedding had been months away, and she had all the time in the world to find a date. now, the wedding was a week away, and here she was. glaring daggers into a wedding invite, very much dateless.

her phone vibrated against the counter, where she'd dropped it unceremoniously after coming in from her match. it was undoubtedly luca again, who had been trying to call her all day. she knew exactly why he was calling. alessia considered declining the call, but she knew her brother would be persistent.

"hey luca," she sighed into the phone, leaning her head against the cupboard.

"less, hi! great game today!"

"thanks," she murmured. her head was beginning to hurt, and she was unsure if it was from the bone-deep exhaustion she felt, or the looming threat of showing up alone to the wedding.

"hey listen, i just wanted to ask you about the-"

"-the wedding, yeah i know," alessia racked her brain for a way out of this conversation, but came up short.

"okay cool, just because you never responded to my texts about your date, and i need to know if you're actually bringing one," luca paused, a muffled noise coming from the other end of the line. alessia assumed he was talking to his fiancée. luca spoke again, voice slightly softer, but still a little harried. "if you aren't that's alright, we just need to know like, right now. if it were anyone else i'd say it's too late to change stuff but since it's you, i'll let you off,"

alessia hesitated. she could tell him the truth. she really should tell him the truth. luca had just given her an out, perfectly plated up for her.

and yet, irritation stirred inside her. luca seemed so sure, so certain that she didn't have a date. she couldn't bear the thought of proving him right. she could already hear gio's remarks, see his smug smile. her mum's overly sympathetic expression flashed in her mind, not for the first time.

alessia loved her brothers, really she did. but that's not to say that, like most siblings, they couldn't be really, fucking annoying. honestly, most things alessia did in life were to spite them. even football, which at first had been her way of joining in with her cool, older brothers, soon became a way to show them up, to prove that anything they could do, she could wipe the floor with them at. alessia made her decision.

"no, it's fine, i'm bringing someone,"

"wait, what?" luca's shock was evident in his voice. alessia gritted her teeth.

"i'm dating someone,"

"seriously?" luca now seemed to be scrambling for what to say, clearly having not expected this answer. "oh, yeah, cool, well, in that case, we need to know his name for the seating charts and stuff,"

alessia cringed. both at luca's assumption of gender, and at the trap she'd just laid for herself. this was a very stupid idea.

"her name," she corrected, on instinct.

god, what was wrong with her? why couldn't she stop talking?

"oh! right sorry- good for you less. we need her name then,"

fuck. what was she doing? alessia had dug herself into a hole of epic proportions, and she really hadn't thought this far ahead. in all honestly, she hadn't really thought at all.

she couldn't back out now though. alessia racked her brain for potential fake suitors, someone she could convince to accompany her for the evening, someone who would raise very little questions. she considered ella, but alessia's family all knew she had a boyfriend. millie, maybe? god knows millie had a thing for dating footballers, but alessia also knew she was awful at keeping her mouth shut. she could try katie, but her brothers had met her on many occasions, they wouldn't believe it for a second. no, it needed to be someone her brothers didn't know well, someone who it would be very easy to erase from her family's memory once the night was over.

alessia felt her mouth move before she had the time to process what she was even saying. the regret was instant, but the words were out before she could swallow them.

"y/n,"

"wait, from united? y/n y/l/n?"

shit. shit, this was bad. of all the players, why had she unconsciously said your name. alessia swallowed hard, closing her eyes and wincing as she nodded to herself.

"yes,"

"oh shit, i didn't even know you guys were close,"

exactly, cursed alessia to herself, we aren't.

"its pretty recent," alessia said instead. god, this was bad. this was so, so bad.

"okay, does she have any food allergies or anything?"

as if alessia had any idea. she'd had maybe five conversations with you in total, and every single one had been utterly infuriating. why she'd said your name was a mystery, and one she was majorly regretting already.

"uh, i don't think so, i'll double check tomorrow," alessia winced as she spoke, very glad this conversation was not face to face.

"well, can you text her now?"

no, alessia thought, i cannot. she didn't even have your number.

"sure," alessia needed to end the call before she said something else she'd regret, "okay luca, i have to go, i'll speak to you later okay?"

"what less no! you just dropped a bomb that you're finally seeing someone, and you're just going to hang up without telling me a thing?"

"yes, i am. goodnight luca,"

after hanging up, alessia borderline threw her phone across the room. she collapsed into a chair, dragging her hands over her face.

"what the fuck have i just done?"

---

alessia woke up the next day, feeling entirely unrefreshed, and unresolved. she'd hoped to sleep on her options after her disastrous claims to luca last night, but the stress of it all meant she barely slept full stop.

at least she had the day off from training. the thought of facing you right now was honestly sickening. not for the first time, alessia cursed herself for saying your name. why she hadn't chosen someone she was actually friends with - someone who would actually go along with her ridiculous lie - was beyond her.

it wasn't that alessia didn't like you, per se, but the two of you had just never seemed to click. since your transfer at the start of the season, you'd become fast friends with pretty much all of the girls, except alessia. honestly, it had killed her at first. alessia prided herself on being likeable, on being able to get on with most people, but for some reason, it was like there was an invisible barrier between the two of you. okay, yeah maybe alessia just didn't like you.

alessia had tried to initiate conversations, but you'd respond with a standoffish comment, or a blunt joke that just didn't seem to land with her. everyone else would laugh, but alessia would find herself awkwardly drawing a blank on what to do or say. the few times you did speak, alessia just found herself getting irritated with you, with the way you seemed to constantly be mocking or teasing her for something, the way you always left her feeling frustrated, and flustered. she assumed you had some sort of vendetta agaisnt her, although she could never quite pinpoint what, or why.

she'd never really had to try to get people to like her before, never really had to force conversation, and for once in her life she hadn't known how to interact with someone.

and so, rather than try, she'd kind of just accepted it. if you didn't like her, if you had some sort of problem with her, then she'd just leave you alone. and so she had. you interacted in a purely surface level manner, as teammates - and no one could deny you were an attacking double act to be reckoned with on the pitch - but that was about as far as it went.

her musing was interrupted by a rather heavy pounding on the door of her flat. she dragged herself out of bed, expecting the postman, but instead was greeted by a very excited ella.

"why didn't you tell me?" ella said immediately, barging past alessia into the flat with the force of a bull on steroids. her eyes widened and she began to look around frantically. "oh my god, is she here?" alessia rubbed the sleep from her eyes. she was not awake enough for whatever this was.

"el, i- what?"

"y/n? is she here?" ella turned to look at alessia, honest-to-god beaming at her. "i can't believe you didn't tell me!"

finally, alessia's brain caught up with ella's tirade. right, y/n.

"you spoke to luca," it wasn't a question. ella didn't seem to notice alessia's sour mood, instead moving to look in alessia's bedroom, as if for some damned reason you'd be in there, god forbid.

alessia weighed her options carefully. on the one hand, she couldn't lie to ella. she'd be found out almost immediately. plus, once ella was involved, that meant the whole team was. it was one thing to lie to her family for one evening, but to lie to the whole team, who she spent hours each day in close contact with, was a whole other kettle of fish. of course, this was all assuming alessia actually spoke to you, and by some miracle, convinced you to keep up the lie. this of course would never happen, since alessia was still pretty sure you hated her.

alternatively, and probably the best idea, she could tell ella the truth. ella might even be able to help her out, set her up with a date or something. it crossed her mind that you were friends with ella, and maybe she'd be able to get you to help alessia out. she dismissed that idea pretty quickly.

"ella, listen-" she began, but ella cut her off immediately.

"oh, less i'm so happy for you guys, i knew you would be so great together!"

alessia was a little taken aback. the thought that ella had seen her interact with you, and somehow come to that conclusion, was honestly baffling. in alessia's shock, ella continued on, " i never understood why you never seemed to get on with her, because you know, she's literally the best, but now it all makes sense!"

"it...does?" alessia didn't really know what to say. she absolutely hadn't expected this reaction.

"you were being shy because you had a crush!" ella exclaimed, as though she'd come to an obvious conclusion. "fuck's sake less, you should've just told me you liked her, i could have set you guys up so much sooner-" alessia barely knew how to respond, she just knew she had to stop this before ella went any further.

"no, that's not-"

"aw less, this is so cute! i can't wait to tell everyone else!" that snapped alessia back to reality.

"no! i mean, please don't,"

"why not?" ella looked at alessia, eyes questioning. she needed to confess, to tell ella the truth before it spiralled. this was already getting out of hand and alessia needed to put it to bed, right now.

"we-uh- we aren't telling people yet. its pretty recent,"

oops.

"oh right, yeah totally less," ella nodded solemnly, and gave alessia a reassuring smile. she tried to return it, but she couldn't muster much more than a grimace, "okay, well, i only stopped by to ask you about it, but i'll see you tomorrow yeah?"

alessia only nodded, watching helplessly after ella as she disappeared down the corridor. she'd really gone and fucked it now.

---

she spent the rest of the day contemplating her options, but unsurprisingly, found no easy way out. she refused point blank to admit to luca it was a lie, espescially now that ella was involved, which meant only one thing. she had to ask for your help. alessia felt honestly ill at just the thought of speaking to you, but she resigned herself to it - it was the only option. it was one night, a single wedding. all she had to do was get on her knees and beg, put up with one night of your infuriating company, then endure a lifetime of embarassment from you. super easy.

ella's earlier words remained in the forefront of her mind. alessia knew that it would only be a matter of time before the whole team discovered the 'news', which meant she had to get to you before they did. she considered messaging you on instagram, but her finger hovered over the button, unable to move.

no, she thought, after opening your profile for the hundredth time. this was the kind of conversation you had face-to-face. although not that alessia had ever had to have this ridiculous conversation before. besides, surely it was best to leave no paper trail.

----

alessia had virtually no sleep for the second night in a row, sleeping though her alarm and therefore ensuing on a mad rush to get to the training ground in time. by the time she arrived, she was practically vibrating; a combination of nervous energy and the coffee she'd downed as she ran out her door.

alessia arrived at the ground in time for the morning meeting, which she listened to approximately none of, hyper-aware of your presence on the other side of the room. finally marc finished speaking, and she stood to try and catch you.

"y/n?" she called, voice borderline desperate. you turned to look at her, as did ona and aoife, who you'd been mid-conversation with. you didn't say anything, just looked into alessia's eyes expectantly. realising she had the attention of a quarter of the room, it occurred to her that now was not the best time to do this. alessia's voice trailed off, and she took a step back.

"uh, nothing," alessia mumbled, and you smirked a little. she gritted her teeth in annoyance, and walked in the opposite direction, just desperate to be anywhere but here, caught like a deer in your headlights. she decided to give it an hour, then catch you alone.

alessia lasted all of 15 minutes before the anxiety got too much, and she took off in search of you. she was so preoccupied that she didn't even see ella coming the other way. she barely even registered the collision, just questioning her on your whereabouts immediately.

"hey, have you seen y/n?"

ella raised her eyebrow, a shit-eating grin plastered onto her face within seconds. alessia rolled her eyes impatiently, knowing exactly where ella's mind had gone. god this was unbearable.

"not for that, i need to speak to her," alessia was getting anxious now, just desperate for this whole thing to be over, and ella's suggestive looks weren't helping in the least. ella seemed to notice when her breath picked up.

"you good, less?"

"can you please just tell me where y/n is?"

"i think she went towards the gym," ella calmed down, sensing alessia was in some distress. alessia took off without a second glance, trying her best to calm her shaking hands. this was fine. she just had to kindly explain, and then beg for you to help. maybe even offer you a hefty bribe or something, and just pray you didn't bite her head off.

alessia was so lost in her head as she marched towards the gym that she didn't notice you waiting for her in the corridor. she wasn't proud of the surprised yelp she let out when you grabbed her hand and pulled her, rather unceremoniously, into a storage cupboard.

"why have i just had someone tell me we're dating?"

fuck, thought alessia. this was not how this conversation was meant to go. she tried to speak, to explain, but, as usual when she was around you, she couldn't seem to get the words out. she blushed, stuttering around excuses.

"hello?" you smirked, clearly amused at alessia's panic. she looked up, meeting those dark eyes to find a hint of laughter. alessia blinked, her breath catching. the amusement in your eyes seemed to fade a little, and if alessia didn't know better, she might have recognised the faint concern laced underneath. "you good?"

"fuck, its my fault - i, i'm so sorry, i-"

"woah, alright, calm down," you reached out a lithe hand, hesitantly placing it on her shoulder.

alessia felt her face heating up, wishing desperately the ground would swallow her whole. it was now or never. she could feel your eyes boring into her, waiting for an explanation. she steeled herself, and let everything fall out in one mortified breath.

"i told my brother i had a girlfriend so he'd get off my back about my date to his wedding, only then he started asking questions so i panicked and said your name," the explanation is rushed, and you have to lean in to decipher exactly what alessia is muttering. she pauses, humiliation halting the next part.

"and then he told ella, who told everyone, so now the whole team thinks we're together, and also my family are expecting me to bring you to the wedding on sunday," her voice trails off.

you let out a laugh, a little taken aback by the comedy of the whole situation. alessia looked down at her feet, playing with the fingers nervously. you could feel the embarrassment practically radiating form her in waves. you felt a little bad. alessia stood in front of you, clearly stressed about this wedding for some reason, so much so she's caught herself up in a lie. a lie involving you, no less, who she seemed to hate, for some reason unbeknownst to you.

fuck it, you thought. you shrugged a little.

"alright," you said simply. alessia snapped her head up so fast you were surprised she didn't get whiplash.

"what?"

"alright. i'll help you out,"

"you- you'll what?"

"i'll help," you shrugged again, keeping your replies deliberately blasé, just to make alessia squirm a little. she was surprisingly easy to stress out, and it was fairly entertaining. "i don't have plans on sunday anyway,"

"you'll come to the wedding?" you nodded, "as my date?" you nodded again. alessia sounded confused, and a little sceptical. she was wary, you realised, expecting a trap, or some sort of condition. "seriously? i'll do anything you want,"

you smirked a little at the tail end of her statement. you were telling the truth; you were free on sunday, and honestly you'd been looking for a chance to break through to alessia for a while now, since she seemed to want absolutely nothing to do with you. you honestly would've done it just to be nice, but her words gave you an idea.

"anything i want?" you could tell alessia instantly regretted saying that. you'd caught her in a very desperate position. she nodded hesitantly. "okay, two conditions," alessia's eyes snapped back to yours, immediately on edge, "one, you give me some shooting practice," alessia interrupted you.

"what?"

"you heard me." you said simply, shrugging again, "i need to work on my shooting, you're our best striker. i want you to help me,"

it was true. you'd admired alessia as a player for a while now, and had hoped that coming to manchester would allow you to learn from her. you were an excellent midfielder, known for your creative play and chance creation, but despite all your ball control and technical skills, you had only scored a handful of times in your career.

despite your hopes however, alessia had never really let you in. while you made fast friends with everyone else, she had clammed up whenever you tried to talk to her. a few times she'd initiated conversation, and as soon as you'd give her a trademark witty comment back, she'd end the interaction, leaving you wondering what the hell you'd done to offend her. it'd been a disappointment, but you'd gotten over it, settling in with the rest of the team and ignoring alessia's subtle glares in your direction. now however, it was you in a position of leverage. maybe you could get something out of this too.

"okay, sure," she nodded, "what's the second thing?"

"stop acting so weird around me,"

alessia spluttered. her earlier embarrassment paved way for only pure indignation.

"i act weird? the fuck does that mean? you're the one who's always either brushing me off, or being a dick whenever i try and speak to you!"

"when have i ever brushed you off? i try to talk to you and you just forget how to speak or something, and then you walk off with a stick up your arse," you smirked, watching as alessia got increasingly frustrated.

"yeah, because you say stuff that doesn't make any sense, like how am i meant to respond to half the shit you say? or you say stuff just to piss me off! that's a pretty clear sign that someone doesn't like you, y/n!"

"i've never once acted like i didn't like you - it's called making a joke, alessia," you said, purposefully emphasising her name, "no one else has a problem with it, i'm just trying to make conversation with you,"

"why do you have to be so frustrating? it's like you have to win every conversation!" alessia cried indignantly. you took a small step forward, meeting her eyes with yours. alessia unconsciously stepped back, but she was already pressed up against the shelves of the small storage cupboard.

"maybe you're just very easy to frustrate, alessia," you said softly, lowering your voice, "maybe you should work on that,"

alessia had no response, only clenching her jaw and rolling her eyes. you stepped back, noticing how her shoulders dropped ever so slightly. you placed a hand on the handle to leave, but before you opened it, you turned back to alessia, meeting her eyes with a smirk.

"send me your address - i'm coming over later," when alessia opened her mouth to protest, you cut her off, "unless you don't want my help after all?" you raised a single eyebrow and alessia sighed.

"yeah, okay. fine,"

"bye," you turned and stalked out the cupboard, stopping at the door once more to look alessia dead in the eye, shit-eating grin plastered on your face, "babe,"

----

"so what exactly was your plan if i didn't say yes?"

"well technically i never asked for your help," alessia grumbled.

"you would've. i was just putting you out of your misery by offering first,"

"you don't know that. anyway, my plan was to maybe run away to mexico,"

"maybe you'd meet a date there,"

alessia huffed from her position on her sofa. god you were infuriating. it had only been a few hours of this charade, and you were already getting under her skin. alessia was starting to think that public humiliation courtesy of her brothers would have been the better option.

"at least then i wouldn't have to deal with you," alessia mumbled.

"oh but you were just starting to like me! look, you're using full sentences when you speak to me and everything!"

"get fucked," alessia said. you were right; at least now she was capable of holding a conversation with you. unfortunately, this graduation meant alessia now had to deal with a lot more of your infuriating personality.

you'd shown up at her flat almost immediately after training, leaving alessia to scramble to try and make the place presentable. now here you were, reclining lazily in her living room, an invasive species taking root in her safe space, and giving very unhelpful suggestions about how to fake a relationship.

"i'm thinking we say you fell madly in love with me at first sight and then-"

"we don't need to say anything!"

"no one is going to believe we're together if we don't even have a backstory, alessia!" you were enjoying this far too much, she could tell. "that might work for your uncles or something, but if you think the girls won't want every juicy detail you are sorely mistaken,"

alessia buried her face in her hands, not for the first time that evening. she felt the familiar rising of panic in her chest, tried to drown out your constant talking, and calm down. this was becoming way too much.

"what the fuck am i doing?" she muttered, squeezing her eyes shut. you paused, and alessia braced herself for another round of teasing from you.

instead, she jumped when she felt your hand on her shoulder. your touch was firm, but grounding, and not at all what alessia had been expecting.

"you alright?"

alessia shook her head, trying to control her breathing and prevent the oncoming spiral. she felt you move to sit next to her, jolting a little as she felt the brush of your thigh against hers. it suddenly occurred to her that she hadn't been this close to, well, anyone, in a very long time. she didn't dare look up.

"this was so stupid, i never should have gotten you involved," her voice was small, embarrassed, "i'm sorry, you don't have to stay,"

"can i ask you something?," you said, and alessia nodded hesitantly.

"why do you care so much? why lie at all?"

alessia sighed. normally, she would have her guard straight back up, but she'd done an awful lot of lying recently, and she was getting very tired.

"i just- i like being single, i honestly do, but, i'm just sick of people going on about it. every single time, its all 'when are you getting a boyfriend, alessia' or 'less, let me set you up with my friend'. it's my mum giving me these pitying looks when my brothers are with their girlfriends and i'm on my own, again,"

she was rambling now, gesticulating wildly as everything that had been building up inside her came out in a rant of emotion. you placed your hand gently on her thigh, and alessia jumped, but continued on, "it's my brothers constantly taking the piss, like they can't believe i could ever find someone. you should have heard how shocked luca was when i said i was seeing someone! and i'm fine on my own, really i am, but when i hear that, it just pisses me off and so i just said it to prove him wrong. even though he isn't wrong, at all,"

alessia stopped, breathing a little hard. she felt a tear prick at the corner of her eye, and willed herself to calm down. she'd already said far too much to you, didn't want to give you any more ammunition than she already had. she winced in anticipation of your teasing remarks, but none came.

"that makes sense. that would get to me too," you didn't move your hand. alessia shook her head.

"i'm sorry for dragging you into this, we should just forget this ever happened,"

"if you really want me to go, i will," you said, "but i want to help,"

"i can't ask you to do this, it's so dumb,"

"you didn't ask remember? i offered," you nudged her shoulder, and she let out a choked laugh despite herself.

"come on," you nudged her again, "i'm not really that bad, am i?,"

alessia shook her head, her gaze fixed on where your hand still rested on her thigh, your fingers absentmindedly stroking her leg. begrudgingly, she had to agree. maybe she'd underestimated you.

"okay," she nodded, finally looking up at you, "let's fake date,"

you smiled, and moved away slightly. alessia felt an unfamiliar twinge at the loss of contact.

"by the way, you're going to have to stop blushing every time i touch you,"

alessia almost choked, her face heating up even more, "i'm not!"

you just shrugged, that familiar teasing smirk returning.

"whatever you say, babygirl,"

alessia just rolled her eyes.

"okay, so what's the plan?" you said, making your way over to the kitchen. you began to root through alessia's cupboards, "why have you not got any real food in here?"

"i have real food-"

"no, this is just like, oats and stuff,"

"it's ingredients. stop going through my cupboards,"

"fine, i'll order food. what do you want?"

alessia just stared at you, utterly baffled. why you were acting as though this was a perfectly normal occurrence, for you to be stood in her kitchen as though it was your own, for you to be ordering her dinner, she had no clue. you stared back, clearly waiting for an answer.

"um, whatever you like," alessia gave in, still looking at you incredulously. you just hummed, and reached in her cupboard for a glass. alessia could only wonder how you even knew where the glasses were.

---

you'd agreed that the best course of action would be to take it slow, ease people into the idea of your relationship. admittedly, no one had ever seen you interact at training, so they were unlikely to believe a sudden 180 in behaviour. the both of you were fairly private people, so it wasn't like the others would be expecting you to launch out the pda immediately. a few gentle touches here and there, a couple whispered conversations, that was all you needed.

alessia didn't walk out to training with you, but the two of you made sure to stand next to each other where possible. you placed a hand on the small of her back when you saw ella eyeing the two of you suspiciously, only removing it when you saw her start whispering to millie. job done.

while you seemed to be playing your part with ease, alessia thrummed with nerves. she flinched when she felt you touch her back, and she swallowed at the spike of electricity it sent down her spine. alessia waited for you to remove it, but you only let it rest there. she breathed into the touch, relaxing enough to remember the plan. she gave you a performative smile, trying to school her features into those of a loving girlfriend, and you grinned.

“try it without looking like you’re in pain next time,” you whispered with a smirk, before running off to receive the ball. alessia stared after you, clenching her jaw in annoyance. this was going to be a long few days.

alessia turned her attention back to the drill, managing a successful twenty minutes without any you-shaped irritation. then the coaches called for you to partner up, and her luck ran out. she sighed as you came bounding over to her, grinning ear to ear like a love-sick puppy.

the two of you queued up, listening intently to the instructions. or rather, you listened. alessia could only focus on your hand, which had snaked its way around her waist and was tracing light shapes into her hipbone.

she was brought back to earth by the shout of her name. you laughed and nudged her,

“it’s your turn,” you smirked. alessia swallowed, realising she had no clue what she was meant to be doing.

“alessia! were you not paying attention?” the coach yelled from the sidelines. ella chose that moment to chime in.

“she was paying attention to someone else coach!”

millie wolf-whistled in response. alessia buried her head in her hands, feeling her face heat up. sensing her panic, you quickly pointed out what she was meant to be doing. alessia muttered a quick apology, running to take her turn.

she rounded on you as soon as training finished.

“what the fuck was that?”

“i should be asking you that!” you laughed. “careful alessia, anyone would think you were actually into me,”

the icy glare she sent your way could’ve frozen fire, but you just smirked.

“it’s not funny, you fucked up my whole training session,”

“i’m sorry! i didn’t realise little old me would distract you so much,”

“just don’t pull that shit tomorrow, alright?” alessia borderline spat, before turning on her heel and stalking away. you chased her down with a shout.

“hey, where are you going? you said you’d help with the shooting!”

fuck, you’d had alessia so riled up, she had entirely forgotten. she knew she needed to keep her promise, or risk losing your help, but the thought of spending another moment in your vicinity drove her insane. she needed to go home and calm down.

“after that stunt you pulled? we'll see about it tomorrow, alright?”

you thought about arguing, but seeing how hot and bothered alessia was, you decided not to risk annoying her anymore. you honestly didn’t know what her problem was - she’d asked for your help, hadn’t she? you nodded begrudgingly, watching after her as she walked to her car.

clearly, alessia was stressed, whether about the wedding or something deeper, you weren’t sure. as much as you enjoyed teasing her, you felt a little guilty about her reaction. you really hadn’t intended to distract her, but you’d seen how some of the girls were shooting sceptical glances at the two of you, and knew you needed to keep alessia’s cover. you resolved to be a little nicer tomorrow, hoping it might make alessia warm up to you somewhat.

back in her flat, alessia stared down at the invitation once again. there was no way all this was worth it, and she ran a hand raggedly down her face.

there was something about you, that was just so infuriating. the more you two were speaking, alessia just found herself increasingly frustrated. she’d previously pinned the emotion down to annoyance and irritation, but the longer it went on, she was starting to feel more flustered than anything. you always seemed to have the upper hand, and alessia was left stuttering to keep up. it was as if her brain just stopped functioning every time you so much as looked at her, or brushed her arm. it was extremely annoying.

alessia allowed herself a few moments to air her grievances, before dragging herself into the shower. she turned the temperature to cool, and tried to forget the sensation of your hand around her waist.

—-

the next day, training ran without a hitch. you made sure to fasten yourself to alessia’s side occasionally, but kept the touches and teasing to a minimum.

expecting a repeat of your antics from the previous day, alessia had showed up to training on edge. it seemed, however, that you were intent on keeping your word. it was an adjustment, getting used to your constant presence, but alessia found that without the constant teasing, she didn't mind too much. eventually, she relaxed into the familiarity of usual training, feeling more herself than she had all week.

without alessia to annoy, you'd turned your attention to light-hearted jokes at the other girls' expense. now that she was out from your spotlight, alessia found herself laughing along with the team. begrudgingly, she could see the funny side. maybe she was starting to see why everyone else liked you.

training finished, and alessia made her way over to where you stood chatting to the others. gaining a bolt of confidence, she snaked her arm around your waist. you jolted a bit at the unexpected contact. ever quick to recover, you flashed her a winning smile. she pressed herself deeper into your side.

"ready to go babe?" you asked, slinging a lazy arm around her shoulders. you didn't want to annoy alessia, not after you'd kept yourself in her good books all day, but you were increasingly aware of everyone else's eyes fastened on the two of you. alessia turned to look at you, all big blue eyes and smiling dimples. you wondered if she'd taken acting lessons since yesterday.

"i thought we could stay for some shooting practice?" she said sweetly. your eyes widened a little, pleasantly surprised she was going to hold up her end of the deal after all. you nodded, losing your words for a second. it was a little hard to think when she was looking at you like that.

"oh, uh, yeah- sounds good,"

alessia waved bye to the others, before she practically sauntered over to the goal. you watched, a little dumbfounded. clearly she was pleased with herself for having caught you off guard. after a beat, you said your goodbyes and jogged to catch her up, chuckling a little.

"so where do we start?"

"well, why don't we just run a few shots and we'll see where we go from there?"

you nodded and turned to grab a ball from the ball bag. it wasn't not unusual for players to stay after training, so most of the equipment had been left out. you glanced up to say something, but found alessia had disappeared.

"wh-?" you cut yourself off with a laugh when you spotted her grappling with a training mannequin on the far side of the field. as you watched her try to drag it over, she somehow managed to rather ungracefully trip over her own feet.

alessia swore, but looked up when she heard your bright laugh.

"oh shut up! just help me put this in the goal," she grumbled. you hoped you hadn't mistaken the hint of a smile in her voice.

"how are you so fucking clumsy?" you teased, lifting up the mannequin with ease. alessia followed as you walked to the goal, choosing not to answer. you placed it down. "here okay?"

alessia stepped back to judge the positioning. you couldn't deny she looked a little cute; hands on hips, head tilted, nose scrunched up in thought. you were broken from your musing as she stepped forward, dragging the mannequin a little to the left.

"hmm, a little more this way,"

"don't fall over it this time,"

"oh fuck off. so annoying," she mumbled, although the smile that appeared on her face betrayed her lack of annoyance. small wins, you thought.

the two of you began taking shots, alessia feeding them in as you whacked them into the net from distance. although you could often find the back of the net, your accuracy wasn't the best. you groaned after you failed to hit the top right for the third time.

"right, okay, i think i know what you're doing wrong," alessia said, as she fished the balls out the net. "you just need to position your body a little differently. here watch me,"

you fed a perfect pass into her - at least you had no problem with assists - and she struck the ball perfectly into the top corner.

"like this?" you said, trying to mimic the way she leant over the ball. alessia frowned.

"hmm, no, like-" she paused, clearly hesitating on her next move. the pause didn't last long though, as she planted her hands on your waist and physically manoeuvred you.

"so you want to move away from the defender like this," she swivelled your hips slightly, "and then, when you hit the ball, you want to sort of do this," she kept one hand on your waist, moving the other to your torso and guiding you through the motion. you tried to take in her words, but you could only focus on her body as it pressed up against yours. you nodded, suddenly a little flustered, but alessia didn't take her hands away.

alessia wasn't really thinking when she decided to touch you, but as she positioned your body, her thoughts drifted. your torso was firm underneath her hand, she noted, and her fingers slotted so neatly into the curve of your waist. her words trailed off, hands lingering a second too long.

alessia jolted as she realised where she was. she let go quickly, a little flustered. god, what was going on with her.

"um, yeah, try that," she said, taking another step back. she felt her face flush, but thankfully, you didn't turn to look at her.

trying to ignore alessia's lingering touch, and its subsequent quick departure, you geared up to take the shot. you tried to mimic what she'd done, and you grinned as the ball found its target.

"yes! that was it!" called alessia from where she stood, "now, let's run about a hundred more,"

when you finally walked off the training pitch together, you were pleasantly surprised by your progress. alessia was a good coach, now that she was actually acknowledging you. you looked over at her as she walked beside you.

the sun was setting by now, casting alessia in a warm orange glow. a piece of her hair had come loose from her braid. you wanted to thank her, but found you didn't want to break the comfortable silence engulfing the two of you.

alessia kept step beside you, contemplating her own sudden change of heart. now that she knew you a little better, the teasing remarks no longer spun her off kilter, and she found she was more amused than annoyed.

"i was thinking maybe i could come over tomorrow after training? to sort out plans for sunday and that?" she asked, turning to look at you.

"yeah sure, what time?" you said absentmindedly, lifting your shirt a little to wipe your face. despite the cool summer evening air, you'd managed to work up a sweat. alessia couldn't help the way her eyes drifted down to your exposed torso. she swallowed.

"alessia?" you prompted, turning to look at her when she didn't answer. she averted her eyes back to your face, before quickly looking away again when she made eye contact.

"oh, um, 7?"

"sounds good, i can make dinner?"

"should i be worried?" alessia smirked, recovering herself a little. jesus, she was all over the place lately. she tried to reassure herself it was just the stress of the impending wedding, pushing down the voice at the back of her head.

"fuck you, i'm a great cook,"

"i'll be the judge of that,"

---

alessia rocked band and forth on her heels as she waited outside your building. she contemplated checking the address yet again, but settled on messaging a simple i'm outside. luckily, it turned out you lived pretty close to her, so she had walked, the weather only a light summer drizzle.

training had run smoothly once again, with the two of you settling into the act comfortably. the nature of your job meant you were at liberty to keep it lowkey and professional, only having to share the occasional sly touch or whispered comment to maintain the facade. some of the others had finally given in to temptation and pressed you both for details. alessia had momentarily faltered, but was saved by you stepping in to proudly regale your concocted story. all she'd had to do was nod and smile in all the right places, content to sit back and eat her lunch while you took the reins. after everyone had left, you'd flashed her a smirk, and whispered "hook, line and sinker". then you'd ruined the moment by mocking her outfit, but she could forgive you for that.

alessia's careful musing on the day was interrupted by you bounding down the staircase. you threw the door open and beckoned her in.

"lift's broken so we have to take the stairs," you said, already making your way up, "try not to fall down them,"

"i'm not that clumsy,"

"could've fooled me," you shrugged.

thankfully alessia managed to keep her footing on all four flights, only nearly dropping her keys once. she hoped you didn't see that.

"okay, so i was thinking, for the wedding, we ne-"

"jesus, straight to the point, huh?"

"well, i was just-"

"you've literally just come through the door, we'll talk about it over tea,"

"stop interrupting me," alessia huffed, placing her bag down on the coffee table, "but fine,"

you made your way back to the kitchen area, and alessia took the chance to take in your open-plan flat. it was nice, she conceded, spacious but homely, decorated eclectically but well. she wasn't sure why she was shocked, as though she'd been expecting you to live in a cave or something.

she turned to join you in the kitchen, where you seemed to be plating up dinner already. alessia offered to help, but you waved her off, telling her to sit down.

"i didn't know you could cook," alessia said as the two of you ate. you hummed, shrugging slightly.

"you don't really know anything about me," you replied simply. for the first time, alessia felt a pang of guilt at not giving you a chance sooner. it was true - she could tell you any number of facts about the rest of the team, but she wouldn't even know where to start with you.

"well no but, i can learn," she said. you looked a little shocked by her words. alessia felt another stab of guilt.

"so, the wedding?" you prompted, eager to change the subject, "what's the plan?"

alessia began to run you through the itinerary, rambling a little. in her stress over the whole thing, she had managed to commit every little detail to memory. she wanted the day to run pefect for luca and his fiancee of course, but she also now had to contemplate bringing you into the midst.

"to be honest, you don't have to come to the ceremony if you don't want to," she added, noticing your wide eyes as you tried to take it all in.

"well, are your family expecting me to be there?"

"um, well yeah, but-" alessia trailed off. her earlier guilt at not being close to you had now morphed into an all encompassing guilt for dragging you into this whole thing.

"do you want me to be there?"

alessia faltered. despite all her planning, she hadn't really considered that. if you'd asked her at the start of the week, it would have been a resounding no, but as she mulled it over, she found that, actually, just maybe, she potentially did.

"um, yeah, i think i do actually,"

"cool, then i'll be there," you shrugged, and alessia nodded.

"so, i'm meant to be getting ready with my mum, but then we can pick you up on the way to the church?"

"i can meet you there if that's easier? less hassle for you guys, plus it might save us any awkward questions from your mum?"

"i mean, its a good idea, but to be honest i think you'll get questions no matter what. it's not a problem - you're on our way anyway," alessia said, and you nodded.

it was a nice change, seeing you like this. the way you seemed genuinely eager to help, making thoughtful suggestions rather than immature ones. the two of you sat at the table long after you'd finished eating, discussing the plan and making sure your story was airtight.

"personally i still think we should tell everyone you pined after me for months," just like that, your teasing suggestions were back, but alessia no longer found herself bothered by them.

"we're absolutely not saying that,"

"oh come on, you know you're obsessed with me,"

"so obsessed it hurts," alessia mimed an arrow to the chest, and you grinned. she felt a small sense of pride at making you laugh. it was a little unnerving. she turned her attention to more pressing matters.

"you do have something to wear right? i can lend you a dress,"

"a dress? absolutely not," you smirked, "don't worry, i've got it covered - what colour is yours?"

"why?"

"so we don't clash, duh,"

"oh," alessia still felt wary, "its like a navy blue, here i'll show you," she pulled out her phone to find the dress. you gave an appreciative look.

"yeah, i've got a suit that will go well with that,"

"i feel like you're going to show up in something stupid - should i be worried? i am worried,"

you stood up to clear the plates, whacking her shoulder playfully.

"do you need to be going?" you asked over your shoulder as you washed up, "i know it's a late kick off tomorrow, but don't feel obliged to stay if you want to get home,"

in all honesty, alessia didn't want to go just yet. she wasn't too worried about the match, it being an evening home game they were tipped to win, and she still wanted to iron out a few more things for sunday. besides, it was nice to not spend yet another evening alone in her flat.

"i don't, unless you want me to go?" the hesitance that crept into her tone was unbidden.

"nah i'm good. stay," you walked to the fridge and pulled it open, searching for something, "normally i'd offer you wine, but maybe not the best idea before a match," you held out a can of pepsi triumphantly, before collapsing onto the sofa beside alessia.

"only the best for my fake girlfriend,"

alessia took it gratefully, then realised she didn't quite know what to do with herself with you sat in such close proximity. she adjusted her position awkwardly, but it was only a small sofa.

"so, tell me about your family," you said as you switched the tv on, "any weird uncles i need to avoid?"

alessia laughed and began to give you a rundown on all the people you would need to know. she found herself relaxing as she spoke, her earlier awkwardness dissipating. you listened intently. your eyes didn't leave her face as she talked, but alessia didn't notice.

the topic soon moved with ease towards your own family, then you in general, and alessia sank into the comfortable flow of conversation. the two of you chatted for hours before alessia realised the time.

"oh shit, it's pretty late, i should probably be going,"

you yawned and nodded, "oh damn yeah, who knew you could talk so much?" alessia blushed, and began to mutter an apology, but you cut her off, "its cool, makes a nice change," you winked, "you could stay, if you like? it's chucking it down out there, plus it's dark, and you shouldn't walk back alone,"

alessia could get an uber - she had planned to get an uber. logically she should go home, make sure she got a good night's sleep before the game. despite this, she hesistated.

"is that alright?" she asked. you nodded.

"yeah of course, as long as you don't mind sharing the bed. i can drive you back in the morning before the match," you walked off, going to get her some clothes to sleep in, and alessia followed.

you fell asleep pretty much straight away, but alessia found herself unable to do the same. she stared at the ceiling, listening to your even breaths and trying to ignore the way your legs brushed up against hers.

she wasn't sure why she agreed to stay, to sleep in a bed with you no less, but, alessia realised, something had changed this week. she enjoyed your company, enjoyed you. she'd even maybe go as far as calling you a friend. for the first time, alessia found herself wondering what would happen after the wedding. she'd been so focused on keeping up the lie, she hadn't even considered it. the two of you had planned to keep up the lie a little longer, then stage a mutual and unexplosive breakup, but now, alessia wondered if you'd even remain close. what if your actions towards her were simply another part of the act, and once you got your shooting practice in return, would it go back to the way it was? alessia realised, with a very strong conviction, that she didn't want that at all.

---

alessia woke before you the next morning. the rain had cleared up, and the sun cast soft rays through your thin curtains. at some point in the night the two of you had shifted to face each other. alessia realised her arm was hanging loosely over your waist, and she pulled it back quickly.

she wasn't sure how long she'd laid there last night, thoughts racing as sleep evaded her. she lay there now, remarking on how much softer your features looked in sleep. your hair hung loosely over your eyes, and alessia had a sudden urge to brush it aside.

the thought registered with a jolt, and alessia extricated herself from the bed as quickly as possible. she tried to push down the feeling in her chest, point-blank refusing to acknowledge it.

this was bad - what was she doing? she couldn't be thinking like this. she needed to go. getting dressed quickly, alessia collected her things and slipped out of your building without a second thought. it was only when she was halfway down the street that the guilt settled in- she should have left a note or something. alessia settled for a text.

left to get ready for the game - thanks so much for letting me stay, see you later x

---

alessia was already there when you showed up at the stadium for the game. you gave her a wave, then moved to sit by your things. waking up alone had stung a little, and you wondered if you'd done something wrong. you'd thought the two of you had maybe crossed a bridge this week - that maybe you were actual friends now, rather than just accomplices caught up in the same lie. maybe you'd been wrong.

it shouldn't have surprised you. you knew alessia hadn't liked you before, although you were still clueless as to why, and maybe it was naïve to think that could've changed.

of course, the text she'd sent hadn't indicated any problem, it was an entirely reasonable thing to do, and she'd seemed perfectly comfortable in your company last night, but still, a girl leaving your bed at the crack of dawn was never a good sign. you knew with some certainty that, after all this was done, you didn't want to go back to how things were, but you had no clue if alessia felt the same. this could have just been all part of the lie for her.

that didn't matter now though, you had to focus on the game.

---

the first half was electric. alessia played well, if she did say so herself, and in all honesty, it was down to you. while before you'd had great link-up play as an attacking duo, now, the two of you were dynamite. you each ran circles around the defence, anticipating the other's moves with ease. so naturally, when alessia volleyed the ball into the back of the net, it was from a cross you'd rocketed into the box.

she ran to hug you, and you did the same, jumping into her arms and wrapping your legs around her waist. alessia had been wondering if she'd upset you by leaving early, and trying very hard not to think about certain other things, but that was long forgotten. she simply let herself breathe you in, holding you tight as she spun you around.

the game continued much in a similar way, the two of you cleaving through defenders like water. you were 3-0 up at 80 minutes, and still you pressed for more.

alessia took on a defender with ease, pressing into space. she could've attempted the shot herself, but she saw your run into the box. she passed the ball to you, and watched as you put into practice exactly what she'd showed you.

it was a perfect strike. you pumped your fists and made a beeline for alessia, squeezing her tight.

"fuck yes! that was all you lessi, all you," you yelled into her ear. alessia's eyes shone with pride, but the warm feeling that engulfed her was far, far more than that. suddenly, alessia couldn't breathe, her heart beating far more erratically than it should've been. she buried her face in your neck and held you tight. oh this was bad. this was so, so bad. if alessia thought the situation was complicated before, she'd definitely made it a whole lot worse now.

she let go, clapping you on the shoulder as she beamed, choking down the pounding in her chest.

"no y/n, all you,"

---

you were still riding the high of the win, and the goal, as you got yourself ready for the wedding the next day. you'd gone home feeling much better than you had before; alessia's reactions on the pitch seemed to confirm to you that there was no bad blood between the two of you. your heart fluttered slightly at the memory of how she'd looked at you - all beaming smiles and bright eyes.

a knock on your door shook you out of your reverie, and you tried to forget the memory. you couldn't be thinking like that. she was a friend - and just barely. you smoothed down your suit and pulled the door open.

"hey- oh. wow, you look-" alessia stumbled over her words as she took you in.

"told you i had it covered," you grinned, posing a little, "you scrub up alright yourself," you couldn't deny she looked absolutely stunning - it was taking every ounce of your effort not to stare, to keep your breathing relatively normal as you took her in.

"right- um yeah- are you ready to go?"

you nodded and followed her out, steeling your nerves to meet alessia's mum. you ran over the story once again in your mind, and from alessia's expression, you imagined she was doing the same. you reached out to grab her hand, giving it a gentle squeeze.

"calm down, you're breathing like you've just ran a marathon," you muttered as you approached the taxi.

"ah, wow, thats such a helpful thing to say, thank you," alessia's voice dripped with sarcasm, and she didn't even look at you.

"we've got this okay? i'm great at lying," she nodded, but you could still see the tension practically radiating off her shoulders.

"i'm not," she mumbled.

"hey, it'll be fine, i promise. just let me know if you need anything - i just want you to enjoy your brother's wedding, alright?"

alessia nodded again, before you reached the car. you waved through the window at her mum, before sliding into the back of the taxi with alessia.

"mum, this is y/n, my girlfriend," alessia spoke confidently, but you'd spent enough time with her this week to hear the faint waver in her voice. you put on your best meet-the-parents voice as you chimed in - you had promised alessia you'd be on your best behaviour today.

"hi, it's so great to finally meet you! alessia's told me so much about you,"

"you too, sweetheart! we're so glad she's finally found someone to look after her," her mum replied, turning from the passenger seat to smile at you. you could see where alessia got it from.

"well, i do my best," you smile back, "she deserves it,"

alessia groaned next to you, face a little flushed.

"mum..."

"well it's true, honey! you know we worry about you getting lonely up here on your own," you were tempted to slide alessia a teasing smirk at that, but thought better of it. god knows she didn't need you adding to the stress.

"yeah, alright, alright," alessia mumbled, still firmly averting her eyes from yours, "how's luca doing?"

"he's doing well, he's with gio and your dad at the church now,"

alessia nodded and smiled, taking a deep breath in. in a brief moment of daring, you reached for her hand and squeezed. she squeezed back with a small smile. the car fell into a comfortable silence, and you turned to look at the window, watching the cars pass by, and trying to ignore the fluttering in your chest.

with alessia being the sister of the groom, she was swept up into wedding business as soon as you entered the church. you'd agreed it would be best to save the introductions for the reception, so you slid into a pew a few rows behind and watched on as alessia greeted her family. you smirked a little as you watched alessia's mum point you out to her brothers, who clapped alessia on the back in apparent congratulations. you sent them a little wave, then for good measure, blew alessia a kiss. she sent you a death glare in return.

the ceremony was beautiful, even as a total stranger. your eyes kept drifitng back to alessia, watching as she beamed with pride, tears shining in her eyes. it warmed your heart to see her like this; you knew she was close with her family, but it was nice to witness it in full. she caught your eye in the crowd, soft smile growing when you grinned back at her.

alessia beckoned you over to her side as the crowd gathered to watch luca and his wife leave the church in the wedding car. you slung an arm around her shoulders and she leaned into you.

"happy?"

"very," she nodded, "thank you for coming,"

"anytime,"

you were interrupted by gio clapping both of you on the back.

"not going to introduce me less?" he grinned. alessia rolled her eyes.

"gio this is y/n. y/n, gio," you stuck out a hand, and he shook it before pulling you in for a hug.

"pleasure to meet you, y/n," he grinned, before turning to alessia, "where've you been hiding this one, lessi? took you long enough,"

"fuck off gio,"

"i'm joking, i'm really happy for you," he turned back to you, face suddenly serious, "if you hurt my baby sister i will kill you, understood?"

"loud and clear," you grinned, and he laughed.

"yeah, i like her less, good job," gio walked off, presumably to greet someone else, and you turned to alessia.

"that went well,"

"shut up please,"

alessia was dragged off for photos pretty soon after, so you spent your time milling around the reception area, and taking advantage of cocktail hour. you had a few run-ins with some cousins and family friends, word apparently having travelled fast, but you put on your best loved-up smile, and spent about an hour gushing about alessia. you tried not to think about how easy it was.

alessia returned after a while, making a beeline for you. or rather, for the drink you held in your hand, which she took without a word and downed rather hastily.

"having fun?"

"all anyone wants to talk to me about is you," she muttered, "even luca! you'd think it was our fucking wedding, not his! i need another drink,"

"on it," you said, walking to the bar with a small laugh. you returned with two cocktails, placing one into alessia's hand. she smiled in thanks.

"just one evening, less, you got this," she nodded, already halfway through her cocktail.

"oh there she is- alessia!" alessia groaned as she heard her mum's voice.

"god, here we go," she grumbled, before plastering a smile to her face and turning around. you waved as her parents approached, swiftly followed by luca and his wife.

"this is y/n," alessia said. you shook her dad's hand, greeting him with a smile.

"it's great to meet you," you turned to luca, "and congratulations! its a beautiful wedding, thank you so much for having me here,"

"yeah thank you," he beamed, clearly caught up in wedding ecstasy, "and of course! you're part of the family too now," you nodded, a small pang of guilt at your lies hitting you squarely in the chest, "plus, as if we were going to let less get away with not bringing you,"

"luca-" alessia attempted, but he waved her off.

"she never brings anyone to anything, honestly i don't even know if she's ever dated anyone seriously, we were all so relieved when she said she was finally bringing a date,"

you didn't miss the way alessia's fingers tightened around her glass, or the way her jaw muscles clenched.

"i mean, seriously, we were starting to get like, worried, you know? like we get you're busy with football less, but come on!"

you were concerned alessia was going to break the glass if she gripped it any tighter. you snaked an arm around her waist, rubbing your thumb slightly over her hipbone.

"well, nothing to worry about anymore," you joked good-naturedly, "i'm just lucky she got there in the end," you flashed her a smile, and her eyes betrayed her thanks. she relaxed into you a little, nodding.

"i'm glad, treat her right, yeah?" luca said, and you nodded. you were getting used to these shovel talks by now, "anyway, you guys should probably get in your seats- speeches soon!" he turned with a wave.

being alessia's date, you of course found yourself on the family table, nestled between your fake girlfriend and her brother. luckily, the attention of the group had finally switched back to the wedding at hand, and you gave yourself a moment to relax. all this lying, this play-acting at being alessia's girl, hadn't felt too difficult in the moment, but now that you weren't under the scrutiny of prying eyes, you realised how much it had taken out of you. you tried to focus on the speeches, taking the moment to collect yourself.

try as you might though, your attention never drifted too far from alessia. you snuck a sideways glance at her, watching as she listened intently. her eyes shone with tears as her dad spoke, and so, emboldened by the copious amount of champagne, you placed a hand gently on her thigh. her eyes never moved from her dad, but her hand moved to rest on top of yours. you felt a little giddy at the intimacy of it all, her fingers tracing a pattern against yours. you told yourself it was just the alcohol making you feel this way, but this small private gesture implied otherwise. it wasn't like anyone could see - there was no one to keep up the pretence for.

gio swept you up into conversation pretty quickly once the speeches ended and the food arrived, seeming genuinely interested in you and your life. his plus one, his girlfriend of a few years, joined in, and you spent most of the meal chatting to the two of them. alessia was uncharacteristically quiet, sharing only the occasional exchange with her parents. you longed to know what was going through her mind, but despite the charade, you knew it wasn't the time to ask. it probably wasn't even for you to ask at all. all you could do was watch as she subdued herself, only moving to refill her champagne yet again.

by the time the first dance was done, and the party began in full, you were already feeling the effects of the alcohol. from her more relaxed manner, you guessed alessia was too. the two of you had been left alone at your table, and you took the opportunity to check in with her.

"you good?" there was nobody in your close vicinity, with everyone dispersing onto the dance floor, but you kept your voice low regardless.

alessia nodded and hummed, closing her eyes a little.

"are you pissed?" you laughed. she snapped her eyes open at that, looking at you indignantly.

"no, are you?" you chose to ignore her defensive tone, instead slipping into a wide laugh.

"yep, hammered,"

that got a laugh out of alessia, and she smirked.

"yeah, me too- let's go dance,"

you nodded and let her pull you towards the throng of people. the two of you danced for a while, just enjoying the atmosphere. alessia's parents soon materialised, the two of them grinning from ear to ear. you laughed as alessia's dad brought out the full set of dance moves, glad that alessia seemed to have eased up as well. it didn't last long however, as the four of you soon sank into chairs and began to chat.

"we're thrilled you're here y/n," alessia's dad began, his wife tucked under his arm. you could see why alessia had high standards for relationships. "lessi's always so busy, we never get to see her relaxed like this,"

you almost choked on your drink. you were pretty sure alessia had never been less relaxed in her life.

"i'm sure you'll look after her, we've been waiting for her to find someone who makes her this happy," alessia sipped at her own drink, not even looking up.

"all our children finally growing up and starting their own families, it makes us so happy," her mum nodded, chiming in. at the mention of a family, alessia finished her glass, and turned to you. it only took one look to see the frustration in her eyes. you went to say something, but were cut off by the arrival of a group of people you hadn't met.

"oh my god, hi! you're alessia's girlfriend right? i'm her cousin, everyone's been talking about how she finally brought a date, we had to come meet you! took her long enough!"

you nodded and introduced yourself, shifting your chair a fraction closer to alessia. before you could say anymore, however, alessia cut you off.

"y/n, could you go get me another drink?" you hesitated - the last thing you wanted to do was leave alessia alone in the lion's den. the desperate glint in her eye, the slight quiver in her lip, told you exactly how you she was feeling though, so you nodded and stood, waving a quick goodbye to what now seemed to be the entire russo family.

standing at the bar, you kept your gaze on alessia, who now appeared to be being bombarded by questions. you tapped your fingers impatiently on the counter, eager to get back to her and mitigate the damage. it was becoming increasingly apparent that, although she may have avoided the questions of why she was alone, your presence here had just opened up a whole new can of worms. lost in your thoughts, you didn't notice the girl who sidled up next to you until she spoke.

"bride or groom?"

you turned to her, a little taken aback. your identity as alessia's girlfriend had mostly preceded introductions up until now.

"oh, uh, groom,"

"that explains why i didn't recognise you - i'm the bride's sister,"

"oh cool," you smiled politely. the girl's suggestive tone gave you a clear indication of her intentions. normally, you would have flirted back- you couldn't deny she was attractive - but you only wanted to get back to alessia. you glanced back over to the table, but her chair was now empty.

the bartender placed your drinks in front of you, and you took them quickly.

"uh, sorry, i should get back, but nice to meet you," you muttered, before practically jogging back.

"where did less go?" you said, putting the drinks down, and turning to her mum with a smile that you hoped didn't betray your concern.

"oh just to the bathroom love," she replied. you nodded. it was probably nothing, but you had a strong urge to go and check on her.

"oh, i might go as well, could you watch our drinks?" you barely gave her time to answer before you dodged your way through the crowd.

"alessia? you in here?" there was no reply. a quick check determined all the cubicles were empty, save for one very drunk bridesmaid who you had to practically extract yourself from.

you came back out, racking your brain for where she could have gone. catching sight of a door slightly ajar, you stepped outside.

"hey," you began hesitantly. alessia sat with her head in her hands, her breathing shallow. she didn't look up. "you okay?"

you contemplated sitting down on the bench next to her, but the moment felt suddenly very private. it was quite possible that you were the last person she wanted to be around.

alessia mumbled something, but her voice was too muffled to understand. you stepped a little closer.

"what was that?" you kept your voice low and your movements cautious, as though she were an animal you didn't want to spook. she looked up, and your heart broke a little as you took in her red eyes and tear-tracked cheeks.

"why do you care? you're not actually my girlfriend," her voice was tired, resigned almost.

you couldn't deny it stung a little, but you weren't going to let that deter you. you weren't leaving her like this.

"well no, but i'm your friend," at your own words you faltered a little -were you? you knew how your position on the matter had switched from before, but you still held some doubt that she had ever changed her mind about you. your voice was hesitant as you spoke again, "are we not friends, alessia?"

"we are but," she sniffled and shook her head "it's none of your business,"

"i respect that, and if you want me to go i will, but you're upset, and i care about you, and i want to help. i want it to be my business less,"

she looked up at you, properly this time, before burying her head in her hands again.

"it's just- too much," she whispered, a small sob escaping her. you rushed to sit next to her, placing an arm around her shoulders immediately.

"what is?"

"all of it," she exhaled, finally letting the dam break and her words spill out, "i thought you being here would help, that they would finally get off my back, but now they've all just made it even more clear that they were just waiting for me to find someone, yet they're all so shocked that i finally have, like, did they all just think i was fucking lonely and desperate this whole time?"

she paused to take a shaky breath.

"and i was happy on my own, i really was, but they say shit like that and suddenly i'm an insecure teenager all over again- like if my own family expect me to be alone then surely i'm not good enough for anyone to want me, and i didn't know what to say, or do, and i just feel really, really shitty, you know?"

you nodded, stroking her back as encouragement to continue.

"and they all just started bombarding me, and i didn't know what to say without you there, and i just-" she swiped furiously at her face. "and then i wanted to go find you, but that girl was flirting with you, and then i just felt so guilty for dragging you here when you could be out with other girls who aren't a fucking mess like i am, and now you're being so nice and tolerating me when i'm drunk and crying, when i'm literally not your problem and i just-"

"less, you don't get it - i want to be here. i want to tolerate drunk you. i want you to be my problem,"

alessia shook her head frantically, tears still flowing as she continued her rant.

"i'm just so sorry - i've been so stressed all day, everyone has been all over me and i should've been thinking about the wedding, but all i can think about is you, because i know you were faking it today but i just couldn't stop wishing you weren't, and i-"

she stopped suddenly, realising what she'd confessed. you tried to look at her, but she kept her eyes glued to the floor. your heart pounded as you deciphered her words, unsure if you'd mistaken their meaning. you bit your lip, wanting so desperately to say the words that, you realised with some certainty, had been begging to be let out for a while. fuck it.

"i haven't been able to keep my eyes off you all day, alessia," you murmured. she risked a hesitant look up at you. nothing in her expression told you to stop, so you kept talking.

"i know you're happy on your own. i know you don't need anyone to 'complete you' or any of that other cliché crap. and i don't either. but i've got to see the complete you this week, and she's amazing. i haven't faked a second of today. and if i'm barking up the wrong tree here you can tell me to fuck off - you can go back to hating me like before and i won't say another word, but alessia, i don't want to just be your fake girlfriend anymore, i want the real thing,"

alessia smiled, and your breath caught at the sight. your hands shook as you awaited her reaction.

alessia leaned forward, inching closer to press her forehead against yours. her hand found your cheek, her touch as soft as satin. her breath ghosted against your lips as she spoke.

"so do i,"

you closed the gap. her lips were softer than you could've anticipated. they pressed into yours, slowly at first, then with a deep urgency. the kiss was messy; tear-stained and drunken, but the feel was electric. the dam broke on all the tension that had built between the two of you, and every ounce flooded out as pure desire. you wanted her, needed her, with a desperation you hadn't realised you could possess. your bodies curved into each other; the aftermath of every faked smile, every pretend touch, culminating in the most real feeling you'd ever had.

you broke away at some point, hazy and grinning. alessia's breathing was heavy, her eyes shining.

"we should go back. you probably shouldn't miss your brother's wedding,"

"right, yeah, of course," she smiled, wiping at her cheeks to try and fix the tear-stains as she stood. you reached out to help, then pulled back to take her in. you smirked.

"were you jealous of that girl?"

she smacked your shoulder, but there was no bite in it. she leant in for another kiss.

"so fucking annoying," she muttered, smiling widely against your lips.

me saying i'm writing a short fic then posting the shittiest fucking slowburn you've ever read.

anyway, hope you enjoyed! love, hedge xx

#alessia russo #alessia russo x reader #engwnt #alessia russo imagine #muwfc x reader #woso #woso x reader #lionesses

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ohmyeyesmyeyes · 10 months

Text

PLUS ONE - m.barzal

part one: sam & julia

warnings: alcohol, vomiting, hangovers, swearing, shit ex, wedding, breaking and entering, little bit of angst

plus one masterlist

“Remember that time we had a sleepover in your basement and—”

You rolled your eyes, happily accepting the shot put under your nose as you knocked it back.

God, you hated wedding speeches. Very rarely were they entertaining, and more often than not, you found yourself cringing at the thinly veiled jealousy exuded by the poor people subjected to give the speeches when they said one final goodbye to the friend they’d known since high school before they were inevitably swept up by the trials and tribulations of married life.

That downright made you feel ill; sure, there were different types of wedding speeches, but, and hypocritically, the ones you hated the most were the awkward ones, where someone hadn’t come prepared at all, and stuttered and paused as they tried to think of something to say to satisfy the uncomfortable blanket of silence that inevitably would have draped itself across the entire room. Those kinds of speeches were drab, and they were somehow made even worse by the random questions thrown out there. Like this guy, for example.

To say you’d known the bride since college you could safely say you’d never seen this person in your life, and probably for good reason, because his lack of organisational skills were astounding to the point that the only way you could distract yourself from it was to blindly accept the shots from your ever-so-gracious, and probably just as tipsy, plus one.

But this guy delivering the speech? His hands were shaking, and you could see sweat dripping down his temples and shining on his forehead, and whilst you did feel a tad of sympathy for him (because speeches are tough anyway), you couldn’t help but feel a little disappointed in the way he kept flicking between two sheets of folded paper – hands shaking and looking nothing short of caught.

He’d been doing the question thing for longer than it really needed to be done for.

Sometimes people underestimated the power and effectiveness of the short-but-sweet speeches – ones that probably meant a lot more to the married couple than the disjointed rawlings that almost made it seem as though the person delivering said speech was trying to prove a point. What the point was, you had no idea, but there was definitely something to be said about the unreasonably long sequence of ‘do you remember…’, ‘one time we…’.

“I’m so fucking bored.” You could tell it was meant to be a whisper, one strictly reserved for your ears only, and you would have put a hand over your mouth to smother the laugh you felt bubbling up – if it weren’t for the fact that your entire table heard exactly what he’d just said.

Almost as soon as those words had left his mouth, you felt the weight of seven disapproving stares burn holes through the side of your face, and if it were possible, through the man himself. You could almost feel the heat radiating off his skin as though he’d been pierced by a hundred burning lasers.

Mat seemed oblivious – either that or he was promptly and purposefully ignoring the sudden attention, attention which he had vowed to stray from. In his words, ‘I want a hockey-free night, and ‘Tony’ sounds pretty gangster’.

So, even though his place card said ‘Mat’, in his slightly tipsy state before the speeches began, he’d confided that he was to be called ‘Tony’ for the night. You’d simply patted him on the arm and obliged anyway, although you knew the only way to prevent yourself from actually calling him Mat was to just forgo calling him a name entirely.

So when you felt the table’s attention return back to the poor best man now wrapping up his speech, you hid a smile behind your hand. He was right, it was boring. And you were also dreading what would happen after the speeches, because you’d accidentally made direct eye contact with an ex of yours before you’d sat down, and the look in his eye had you predicting he’d want to talk to you before the night ended.

There was a smattering of applause, and before you knew it, chairs were scraping along the floor and people were beginning to stand for the first dance. You attempted to stand – it was courteous considering you used to be somewhat friends with the bride – and it was polite, and honestly, you did want to see it. It was tradition, and you knew that it was really the first chance the couple had at actually realising they were married.

You loved watching their faces, even if they were a hint bashful at being under everyone’s watchful eye.

However, you couldn’t do that this time. People were lined up along gaps between the tables, and unfortunately that meant you couldn’t even push your chair out and stand up to get a glimpse over everyone’s heads, so you stayed with Mat, who’d gone back to sipping his Prosecco.

“Are you gonna be okay if I go and talk to some people for a bit?” You whispered, ears catching the soft melody of the music over the chatter of the crowd.

Mat blinked, turning to face you, a question written in his features, “I’ll be fine. Who’re you gonna talk to?”

His eyes were glazed, and his cheeks were flushed. He’d shrugged off his blazer a while ago, and you knew him well enough to know he was well on his way to being a little more than tipsy tonight. Unfortunately for you, that probably meant that he’d be an absolute nightmare to get to sleep.

“I’m gonna have to talk to Logan.” You admitted quietly, watching Mat carefully.

He rolled his eyes, handing you another shot – not successfully hiding his distaste for the situation. His gaze was stern and his mouth was pulled into a frown, “As in Logan that–”

“Yes.” Your tone was harsh, and Mat leant back in his chair, his jaw ticking as he turned back to the crowd. You handed him the shot he’d given you, and he downed it, wiping his mouth on the back of his hand.

You leant back in your chair, mind racing. Mat had always had a certain displeasure for Logan – more specifically than any other ex he’d known – and he wasn’t exactly your favourite ex by any means, but there was something about Logan that got Mat ticking and his temper flaring. As far as you were aware, the two had never met; you’d been dating Logan around the same time you’d met Mat, but before you’d had the chance to introduce them both, Logan ended things.

Never said why, never gave a reason, and if you were being honest, you were kind of curious as to how this little conversation with him was going to go.

But to satisfy some of Mat’s not-so-subtle uncomfortability, you’d made the split-decision to negotiate with him.

“If I make eye contact with you and blink twice, I’d like it if you could get me out of there.” Then, just as an afterthought, “Or if you’d prefer it, you can sit here and stew in your irrational hatred for the guy.”

“It’s rational–”

“So tell me.”

“Not yet, okay?” He paused, sighing, “But I’ll keep an eye on you.”

You lent an elbow on the table, resting your head against your fist as you looked at him. He was irritated, and it was almost immediately after he’d finished speaking that Logan stopped behind him and a shadow fell across his spot on the table that his concern turned almost instantaneously into a scowl. You sighed, frustrated with both Logan’s appearance and Mat’s refusal to give you any semblance of the truth, so you neglected to pat your friend on the shoulder when you walked back.

It was petty, but it wasn’t exactly your job to console him at that moment – least of all when it would be you talking to him.

Logan surprisingly led you to the dancefloor – though with the way his eyes kept flicking over your shoulder, you had an inkling that it was the lingering threat of Mat burning holes through him that prompted Logan to choose a place more in the public eye.

You offered him a tight smile when you both awkwardly held each other, careful not to get too close. His hands were warm on your back, and you noticed that he made sure to touch you where your dress covered your skin.

The tension between you both was odd, and it only seemed to break when an elderly couple – both wrapped up in their own foxtrot of sorts – accidentally knocked into you both. It had you both smiling at the couple, mutterings of ‘no problem’, and then the tension seemed to alleviate somewhat.

“How have you been?” You asked, unable to avoid catching a glimpse of Mat snatching a glass of Prosecco off a tray and down the entire thing in one go. Your expression dimmed slightly, and you had to cut your attention back to Logan, who was looking off to the side, how mouth slightly agape – almost sheepish.

“I’ve been good, yeah. I’m actually getting married next year, which is exciting.” His cheeks flushed, and you couldn’t help but crack a small smile at his clear adoration.

He might have been a pretty slack boyfriend, but you were still incredibly happy for him.

“Congratulations, who’s the lucky person?” Your grin widened as he looked to his feet bashfully, trying to mask the smile on his face.

Logan was never someone who openly admitted to wanting to settle down. Even when he was with you he’d flirt with the occasional girl; it was part of his personality, one that never dwindled even throughout the whole of college. After the breakup, he’d approach you in parties if you happened to see each other, and he’d still attempt to flirt with you – there was no end goal in sight with him – you always saw it more as a joke than anything. Truthfully, you assumed he was just a charming personality, although there were glimpses of something that always rested behind that flawless smile and those dazzling blue eyes.

You could imagine that falling in love with someone took him by surprise.

“Her name’s Rory, we were on and off in my last year of college, got back together two years ago and I proposed in December.” He nodded wistfully, as if recounting the moment, “What about you?” He nodded in Mat’s direction.

When you followed his eyes, you saw Mat had moved from his previous seat. He now held a new glass of Prosecco in his hand, and was sitting next to a little boy on the floor, just under the draping of the tablecloth. He was still watching you, and when he caught both your and Logan’s gaze, you shook your head in his direction, answering his implied question.

You saw his hazel gaze slide over to Logan momentarily, before he turned back to the kid, smiling at whatever they were handing him.

He was pretty – that was a fact you weren’t aware of, but Logan’s suggestion was…not correct.

“Oh, he’s just a friend. I met him around the time we broke up, actually.” You answered awkwardly.

But Logan wasn’t looking at you, in fact, his brows were furrowed and his eyes were fixed intently on Mat, a flicker of recognition flashing through his features.

“Is that Mat Barzal?” He asked, his eyes flicking down to you momentarily.

You stuttered, feigning confusion, “Who?”

“Mat Barzal? The hockey player for the Islanders?” Logan arched a brow, disbelieving of your naivety.

You nodded slowly, trying to figure out how you could spin the conversation without making you look ridiculous, “Oh, him…He actually gets that a lot.” You felt your cheeks flush, the slight haze of the alcohol beginning to kick in; you were surprised it took so long to take effect, and because of your sudden panic and hesitation, not wanting to out Mat when he’d previously stated he wanted to be called Tony for the night, you found yourself manoeuvring Logan, making sure his back was to Mat as you willed him to make eye contact with you.

He was still chatting to the little boy, gladly accepting a flower that must have been from a table somewhere, and you could tell from the slump in his shoulders and the way he’d had to half lean against the table leg that he was a little drunker than you’d initially guessed. So much so that, even through Logan talking, you watched as Mat brushed the tablecloth out of his face, before faltering, his hand going to stroke the material with incredible curiosity.

The delighted face he made as he searched for you in the crowd of dancers almost had you laughing out loud. If it weren’t for the slight fear you had with Logan’s insistent questioning.

“I never knew you were friends with Mat Barzal–” Logan carried on, oblivious to your rising sense of anxiety, one that only seemed to decline when Mat finally caught your eyes, and you blinked twice – purposefully.

It took a moment for him to realise what was happening, before the smile on his face faded a little and his hand untangled itself from the tablecloth as he wobbled to his feet, incredibly mindful of the little boy still playing with the flowers.

“Well…” you stalled, swallowing nervously and watching with careful eyes as Mat somehow managed to wind himself through the crowd to get to you, flashing people apologetic smiles if he bumped into them, “Actually…”

You saw him reach you a couple of feet away, and you didn’t let yourself relax until he was standing next to you, a comfortable – noticeably fake – smile plastered on his face. It was polite nonetheless, but he wasn’t looking at you.

“Hey, man,” Mat started talking, and you slowly pulled away from Logan, who’d frozen, his jaw dropped in sheer awe, “Is it okay if I just take Y/N off your hands for a bit? I need her to look at these tablecloths with me.”

You had to look away. Mat may have looked physically sober, but his speech was slurred and his cheeks were rosy and he couldn’t keep his eyes still when he looked at Logan.

You snuck a peek at Logan, who’d seemingly regained a little consciousness and his cheeks were flushing with embarrassment.

You always admired Mat’s patience and tolerance for his fans, and even then it didn’t seem to dwindle when he was faced with the man he clearly had some sort of hatred for, and was also less in control of his own actions considering the fact he was drunk off his face. That tight smile was still plastered on his face, and he swayed a little on the spot, forcing you to reach a hand out to stabilise his arm.

He didn’t even flinch.

Even so, despite the fact that it took a while for Logan to compose himself, his eyes very obviously going from your hand on Mat’s arm, then all the way down his figure, Mat remained completely calm and patient. In your grip, however, you could feel some awkward tension in his arms; he remained rigid, as if expecting some sort of backlash to the interruption, though that may have just been his awareness of his lack of stability, and in combating that appearance, he’d purposefully tensed to remain on his own two feet.

Logan stuttered, a hand going to rest on his own chest as he glanced back at you, almost remembering you were standing there and Mat was, in fact, asking for you in that moment, “I mean, sure – I’m Logan, by the way.” He held a hand out for Mat to shake.

Tony or Mat? The ultimate question.

After a few seconds, you furrowed your brows, looking at Mat only to see his eyes were fixed on Logan’s wavering hand, a conflict evident in his eyes. You squeezed his arm, and he lifted his hand to shake Logan’s.

It was slow, and every movement was deliberate, and you couldn’t tell if you were expecting to find something or overthinking the entire thing, but you swore Logan’s hand turned white for a split second.

“I’m Tony,” Mat began, removing his arm from your grip to take your hand instead. He was still looking at Logan, and you could sense the challenge between the two men as Logan blinked, obviously confused. He looked back to you for a split second, and you shrugged, offering him no justification. It was clear to you and it was obviously clear to Mat that Logan knew who he was, and in that brief moment that Mat let Tony land in the silence between them, you could tell he was waiting for Logan to challenge him, “nice to meet you.”

Logan nodded, swallowing harshly, and you couldn’t help but feel a hint of sorrow for him – but at the end of the day, it was inevitable that Mat took precedence in your mind.

“You too.” Logan mumbled, before turning to you, a grimace of a smile etched on his face, “Well, it was nice to catch up; I’m glad you’re well and happy, but I can see you’ve got tablecloths to inspect with Tony.” He nodded, carefully avoiding Mat’s eyeline as his focus was kept entirely on you.

You nodded, plastering a smile on your face for nostalgia’s sake, even if you were slightly uncomfortable with how the interaction had turned out, “You too, I hope you have a lovely wedding, and send Rory my congratulations.”

“I will, thank you.” At this, Logan’s grimace seemed to soften slightly.

“See you around.”

“You too.”

And then Mat was dragging you back through the crowd, this time not as careful to prevent himself bumping into anyone as he was before, and you had to pull his hand back a little to get him to slow down.

When you finally reached his prior spot, he dropped your hand and sat on the floor, this time almost entirely hidden underneath the table.The kid from before had disappeared, and there were significantly less people around – the crowd had dispersed and people were beginning to say their goodbyes.

It was pretty late.

You didn’t follow him, instead opting to stand with your arms crossed, attempting to at least be a little annoyed with his behaviour for Logan’s sake, but with the way he was acting – high out of his mind – you couldn’t help but break out a small smile. He’d gone back to playing with the tablecloth, and he was a few inches from falling onto the floor, his eyes so glazed over with no trace of his previous tension evident in his frame. It almost seemed like he’d forgotten the entire interaction altogether.

Neither of you said anything for a while, and it wasn’t until Mat straightened up under the table and gently patted your leg with a frown that almost mimicked a child’s that you realised he’d been waiting for you to sit down with him.

You sighed, hiding your smile at his antics, and joined him under the table.

“Are you mad at me?” He asked, lazily turning his head to look at you as he rested his head on his elbow. His eyes were comically sad, and it sent a pang of guilt resonating through you.

He’d been looking sad quite a bit lately – it was part of the reason you’d invited him to this wedding, to get his mind off the breakup, but a small part of you regretted asking him. Surely inviting him to a wedding after a breakup would only break his heart even more? Remind him of what he could have had?

You shook your head, “I could never be mad at you.”

He nodded, seemingly happy with the response, but there wasn’t a smile on his face to support that.

“I overheard him at a restaurant once,” he started, huffing a breath after pulling his eyes away from yours. You furrowed your brows, not entirely sure what he was talking about, but not wanting to interrupt his flow, “I didn’t know it was him until I saw you clearing out his stuff from your dorm–”

Oh.

He was talking about Logan. Even the tone of his voice had you on edge – he was angry, and with that came a sense of foreboding.

“–I was with some friends, and they were sitting behind us, and…you should have heard some of the things they were saying, even Logan.” He sighed, not daring to look at you, “They were talking about women like they were…objects, like their sole purpose was to be on this earth for their pleasure–” He stopped talking, and you saw his face crumple, visibly uncomfortable as he recalled whatever was plaguing his mind, “It was so vulgar. It was horrible, and I guess one of them must have said something about someone we knew, because Jamie snapped and yelled at them and the next thing I knew, Jamie was socking him in the face and all five of us were brawling with the others. I remember seeing Logan’s photo in your room afterwards and I was glad you guys broke up.” He laughed bitterly, “I know if you guys hadn't, I would have been scared for you – and guy is getting married?” He turned to you, complete disbelief dripping from his face.

You nodded.

“Fucking hell.”

There wasn’t really much to say. Your mind was undoubtedly reeling with the new onslaught of rather horrible information, and a part of you did wonder if he was only telling you this because he was drunk and he was still thinking about Logan after the short conversation. But when you thought about it, Logan having those views about women wasn’t all surprising. There were comments he’d made in your relationship that had you pausing and pulling faces at the time, but you brushed them off, half hoping he was joking in your youthful naivety.

It put a lot of things into perspective for you.

“Thank you for defending us.” You whispered, tilting your head towards him.

“Shouldn’t have had to yefend dou.” He slurred, blinking upon realising what he’d just said.

You laughed softly, despite the subject, “I know. But there’s always going to be people like that, and not many would have stood up against what they were saying in the first place, so thank you.”

“Shouldn’t have given him the time of day.” He shook his head, beginning to sulk, and though you knew he’d probably chastise himself over what he did and didn’t do, you let him for a while, simply rubbing a hand against his back.

“Considering what you knew, I thought you handled it very well.”

“I had to,” he threw a hand up in the air, shifting himself so his head was leaning against your shoulder, “If I’d have blown up, something would have happened with my career. I wanted to, but…”

“It’s okay.” You rested your head on top of his.

You sat like that for a while, you people watching from your hiding space.

Then Mat’s breathing changed and you felt him relax against you, and you knew it was time to get back to the hotel. You hesitated waking him, but knew he’d probably need to throw up at some point, and it would be more comfortable if he was sleeping in his bed.

You dragged a hand through his hair, gently scratching to wake him up. The trick for waking a drunk, sleepy Mat Barzal was slowly. If he woke up in a fright, he’d spend a while trying to fight his way out of a dizzy spell, and it had taken a few goes to really find the right way to wake him up; stroking his hair seemed to be the most effective, with the least amount of side-effects.

You felt him begin to stir, a sleepy sigh escaping his lips.

“Careful.” You whispered, watching as his eyelashes fluttered and he tensed, slowly lifting his head from your shoulder, groaning as he blinked rapidly.

“How long was I out for?” He asked, and you saw his eyes wobble before he shut them entirely. He was still drunk, but the motion of moving into a vertical position after being somewhat horizontal sent his head spinning.

“Only about ten minutes or so.” You answered, moving to shuffle out from under the table, before turning around and holding a hand out for him to grab on to, “Come on, you need to sleep.”

He opened his eyes, somewhat blindly grasping for your hand and using it as leverage to pull himself out from under the table. There weren’t many people around anymore, so you had no trouble leaving the tent, one of Mat’s arms draped across your shoulders. You had to stop every so often, Mat breathing heavily through his nose to keep a bout of vomit down, but you managed to get him up the stairs and to his hotel room.

“You gonna be okay?” You asked, leading him to his bed. Your room was just next door, and you knew if he knocked you’d gladly run in and help if he needed it, but all his stuff was here, and you were both tired from the late night and the events that had come with it. A full day of socialising and answering personal questions asked by strangers was exhausting.

“Should be.” He answered, face down on top of the duvet.

You didn’t answer him, but moved to the mini fridge in the corner of the room to take out a bottle of water and some painkillers for the morning, placing them on his bedside table.

“Right, well, I’m next door. Knock if you need anything.” You reminded him, patting him gently on the back.

It felt almost inhumane leaving him to suffer by himself, but you knew he wouldn’t hesitate to ask if he needed help. That gave you some peace of mind at least, and you weren’t about to impose yourself in his room when he might not even need much assistance.

You went back to your room, and it was only after you’d finished in the bathroom and managed to get somewhat comfy in your own bed that you heard a sound that sent your heart into a frenzy of panic.

There was a click that sounded remarkably like the lock on your door, and before you could turn the light on and overthink it, your door was opening and Mat was walking through carrying a bottle of water and looking worse for wear.

“Jesus Christ.” You whispered harshly, refraining from throwing a pillow at him, “You scared me! How did you even get in here?”

He blinked, coming over to sit on your side of the bed, looking a little unwell if you said so yourself. There was a tinge of green to the pallor of his skin, and a thin film of sweat across his forehead, “I stole one of your keys earlier.” He said, breathlessly.

You swallowed, a sense of dread prickling your stomach at his symptoms. You got out from under your covers, placing a hand to his forehead. You weren’t cold by any means, but when you placed your hand against his forehead, he leant into it, relishing in the relief you provided. His eyes shut and he sighed.

“Are you okay?” You asked, concerned.

He opened his mouth to speak, but quickly clamped it shut when his body jolted. You barely had three seconds to spin a single thought together, and the closest thing was the ice bucket, so you lunged for it, just shoving it in front of his face quick enough for him to empty the contents of his stomach into it.

You winced, trying not to think too much about what was happening, and he hunched forwards, trying to jam his face into the bucket, “Hey, you don’t want to get covered in it, get your face out.” You scolded gently, and he lifted his head slightly, his hand going to clutch your forearm for support.

It was bound to happen, you’d decided. You lost track of how much he’d drunk, and you couldn't say you’d been with him the majority of the night, so you didn’t have any realistic guesses as to how much alcohol he’d consumed, but puking wasn’t exactly an unpredictable end to the night.

His breathing was ragged, and every so often you’d catch a groan of pain as his stomach twisted.

“You’re okay.” You whispered into his hair, rubbing a hand down his back. “Just let it all out.”

A couple of minutes later, the vomiting had stopped somewhat.

Mat lifted his head up, trying not to gip when he caught a glance of the contents of the bucket, and unscrewed the cap on the bottle of water he’d brought with him.

“Better?” You asked.

He nodded, greedily gulping it down.

“Can I clean and empty it now or do you feel like you’re gonna need it again?”

He shook his head.

You pushed yourself from the bed, turned the light on in the bathroom and poured the contents into the toilet, before flushing it and placing the bucket in the bath – immediately turning your attention away from it and blasting the shower on.

When you made it back to your bed, Mat had curled up under the covers on your warm spot, his back turned to the middle of the bed. He was still awake, and when you placed the bucket on the bedside table next to his side, he attempted a smile.

“Feeling better?” You asked, trying not to smirk when he huffed and pulled the duvet closer up the bed.

“Just say it. I know you want to.”

You grinned, climbing into the other side of the bed, “Well if it isn’t the consequences of your own actions.”

You snuggled down, turning off the light by the bed, slightly smug but also kind of feeling a little bit bad for how miserable he must be feeling.

Just as you were about to drift off, a voice cut through the darkness, jolting you awake.

“Can we cuddle?”

You screwed up your face, half amused yet slightly taken aback by the question. Sure, you’d cuddled Mat occasionally before, mainly when he’d had a bad game or was feeling a bit sorry for himself, but it felt weird doing it in a bed with the lights off.

It felt like the territory that friends should not venture into.

“No.” You whispered.

Clearly that wasn’t the answer Mat was hoping for, because you felt the sheets move around you and a waft of air hit your face. When you opened your eyes you were almost nose to nose with the Canadian.

His hair was a mess, you could see that in the dark, and his eyes were shining.

“Why not?”

“Because we’re friends.”

“Friends cuddle all the time. We’ve done it before.”

“Yeah, in daylight and not in a bed. It’s weird.”

“What’s weird about it?”

“Everything. Also, you’re still drunk and you literally just threw up. You have vomit breath.”

“I’ll clean my teeth.”

“Please go to sleep.”

“But I want to cuddle.”

“Go clean your teeth.”

He get out of bed, whisper-cackling at managing to wear you down so quickly, and you attempted to go back to sleep, knowing if he saw you were asleep he wouldn’t even go anywhere near you, but the two minutes seemed to go past incredibly quickly and before you knew it, he was climbing back into bed, looking at you expectantly.

He was facing you, a fact that had your brain stalling a little.

“What are you doing?” You asked.

“What are you doing?” He shot back, pulling a face.

“I’m wondering why you’re looking at me like that.”

“Because you’re not turning around?”

You let out a breath, almost scoffing at his insinuation, “I am not turning around.”

“Is it because you don’t want to deal with morning wood?”

“What the fuck, no.”

“Or maybe you’re scared there will be no morning wood? Because maybe if I don’t get morning wood then you’d think you weren’t attractive – which you are – but if I get morning wood, then you’d think I was attracted to you–”

“Stop saying morning wood. And that’s not the reason, okay? I couldn’t care less if you got a boner – and by the way, I am amazed at the way your mind works, really. But I am not letting you spoon me.” You narrowed your eyes.

“Why?” You could almost hear his offended tone slip through.

“You know what? Forget the whole cuddling thing, I’ve changed my mind.”

Mat threw his face into the pillow, groaning dramatically.

“You don’t like cuddling?” He asked, almost appalled at the idea.

“Not with you.”

He gasped, before trying to shuffle closer to you, seeking some heat since he’d left the bed and been exposed to cold air.

“Hey, hey. Don’t cross the boundary.” You pushed yourself up, drawing a line from where the two pillows met in the middle of the bed, preventing him from moving forward any further.

“Why, what would happen if I did?”

“You’d be entering a different season and if you stay too long your wings would break. You’d have a broken wing, Mathew. Nobody wants that.”

You practically heard him roll his eyes at your exaggerating, “Is that a Tinkerbell reference?” You nodded, “How old are you? And it’s just cuddling. What’s the worst that could happen?”

“Oh, Jeez, I don’t know, maybe you could puke in my face and I could choke on your vomit?”

There was a beat of silence, and you could feel the weight of a sarcastic stare poking holes in your face, “Be fucking for real right now–”

A short burst of laughter escaped you, and you could hear Mat chuckling a little at your reaction. The silence was short lived – as it always seemed to be when you were talking to Mat at night.

“What about tickle-scratching?” He whispered, just as you turned your back on him.

You pulled a face, “What the fuck is that?” You turned your head slightly over your shoulder just in time to see a hand reach out towards you.

“It’s where we, like, scratch each other’s backs in a gentle way,” he demonstrated, his hand indeed going to scratch your shoulder very gently, as though he was afraid you’d shoot the idea down. You definitely were, but your curiosity as to where he was going with this was winning you over, “Not in a weird way, just like…” He trailed off, his hand still gently scratching your skin.

It was a little weird, but you couldn’t deny that the action sent shivers down your spine. It was a nice feeling, a little strange – it made you feel like a cat or something, but it felt weirdly relieving.

“What?” You exclaimed, beginning to tease him a little through his still-drunken haze.

Where the fuck had he gotten that from?

He groaned once more, this time ripping his hand off you and rolling over onto his side of the bed, his back turned to you with a flourish. You did briefly wonder how he hadn’t made himself dizzy with all that throwing around and sharp turns of direction, but you spent most of your energy trying to smother your giggles behind your hand.

You tried not to move the mattress, but when you felt him turn around, undoubtedly confused as to the shaking, you cleared your throat, and spun back around. You scooted over the line of demarcation, risking a broken wing, and wrapped an arm around his waist, making yourself comfortable as he grasped onto your hand and you settled your forehead against his back.

To say he’d been seeking some bodyheat barely minutes ago, Mat was boiling. In fact, you didn’t know how the thought of seeking human contact had even occurred, because that level of warmth would surely just make him uncomfortable? It was like snuggling a heater.

“Leg.” He whispered, and you rolled your eyes, complying anyway as you slotted your leg between his, further adding intricacy to your entanglement.

“Do you just want me to completely lay on you or are you good now?” You asked, barely bothering to hide your deadpan tone.

“Actually–”

“Shut up.”

It had barely been five minutes and you could feel yourself hanging precariously on the brink of sleep — brain switching off and yourself being consumed by the inevitability of morning — when Mat huffed, startling you as you briefly tightened your hold on him.

The action had your entire body jerking, heart pounding awfully in your chest and a short breath expelling from your mouth. Only for Mat to groan and fold in on himself.

The hand that had been enclosed around yours shot south and in the sudden movement you pushed yourself away from him and reached across to turn the light on, undoubtedly concerned. Your first thought was that he’d been sick again, but the light quickly illuminated a scene that, for a man, could only mean one thing.

His face was screwed up, half plastered into the pillow beneath his cheek, and both his hands were cupping the bulge in his boxers. His entire body had gone taught and when you touched his shoulder, attempting to roll him over somewhat, he let out a pained groan that bordered dangerously on the pornographic scale.

“What the fuck’s wrong with you?” You asked, slightly appalled, each ounce of sleep shot completely from your system.

You tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, waiting impatiently for him to respond.

“Answer m—”

“You kneed me in the fucking balls, you bitch.” He fake cried, a hand slapping on his forehead as his other still clung to his dick.

You blinked, half expecting him to say he was joking. When that didn’t happen, you let out a loud laugh, hand going over your mouth as consideration for your neighbours managed to sneak through your brain.

“Don’t laugh at me.” He pleaded, fingers pinching his nose rather dramatically, which only seemed to make the entire situation even funnier in your mind, “It really hurts. I can feel my children withering inside me.”

That had your laugh breaking through the shield of your hand, and you had to bury your face in your pillow to muffle the sound. Mat was a funny guy, mostly unintentionally — like his actions; his unfiltered and unmanaged facial expressions when he sees someone pick something up off the floor and eat it (even immediately after they’d dropped it); his inability to listen to Waterloo by ABBA when driving because it ‘is very overwhelming’; or the things he says that you just know slip out of his mouth the very second he thinks it and then instantly regrets it. Your point is, Mat Barzal is hilarious in an endearing way, mostly because he doesn’t even realise just how amusing he is to watch out of the corner of your eye; he’s weird like that.

So when he says that, you feel as though your entire reaction is completely justified because it’s just so wacky and damn honest that it startles you entirely.

When you calm yourself down, tears resting in your eyes, and turn your face on the pillow to look at him, your cheeks aching from smiling, he’s looking at you oddly.

Softly. With mild curiosity. As though he’s just smiling unconsciously and a little confused at why exactly you were reacting to him like that.

His eyebrows were furrowed, but his eyes were soft and you knew if he’d have covered the rest of his face you would have been able to know he was smiling just from the little crinkles gathered at the corner of his eyes. But the rest of his face was visible, and he was smiling that smile where his mouth was turned down — an upside-down smile, where he was trying to smother the bright grin on his face as best as he could.

You lived for those Mat smiles because it meant he wasn’t aware of how his face was presenting itself. It was Raw Mat, not having to worry about what everyone would think of the way he looked or reacted.

And with the soft glow of your light, you caught yourself, not for the first time, wondering what it would be like to kiss him.

The first time you’d done that was when he’d dragged himself out of his dorm on your birthday, after playing a brutal match he’d lost, body worn out and so, so tired you were afraid he’d fall asleep standing up, and turned up for you. His hair had been slightly damp from the shower, and his eyes were bloodshot with dark bags, and he’d smiled at you sleepily, given you a homemade cake and it was immediately after he’d said ‘I’m always gonna show up for you’ that you’d wondered what it would be like to just kiss him then and there, in all his adorable fatigue.

Mat was just soft, and probably the cutest and hottest person you’d ever met and known. And you’d not loved him more than you had in that moment when he was looking at you in that way, completely accepting of who you were, and loving you just as you were.

You’d never really felt that comfortable around anyone.

“What?” You found yourself asking.

His expression flickered, and something seemed to sober him up a little. His tongue swiped out to wet his lips, and for a second it did cross your mind that maybe he might have been thinking about kissing you too, in a friend-way (because friends did that, right? Just to know that they were definitely meant to be friends and were soulmates in the platonic way, not the other way), but then he frowned and started trying to pick a piece of fluff off from the sheets.

You ducked your head slightly, trying to catch his eye.

“If you tell me what you’re thinking, I’ll let you cuddle me this time.” He didn’t react, and you felt a sordid pang of regret, “But only if you want to.”

His mouth lifted slightly. You took it as a win.

You waited patiently for a while, fighting and losing against the exhaustion that was beginning to claim you, but then he lifted his head up.

“I just feel like everyone I know is getting married.”

Oh. It was one of those sleepovers.

You swallowed, your arm going under your pillow and poking back out the other end, playing with the ends of Mat’s bed head.

You knew he was still drunk, that maybe this vulnerability was spurred on only by the confidence of the alcohol in his system.

“Not everyone.” You reassured.

It felt limp, and you didn’t even believe yourself. Mostly because you also knew what he was talking about, because you’d spent a few sleepless nights agonising over that fact, that maybe it was too late for you.

It kind of felt like a party everyone you know had been invited to but not you.

It was everywhere, like the worst kind of sickness.

Love. Marriage.

Kids.

Perhaps it was the kids comment after you’d kneed him that had him all pensieve and reflective all of a sudden. In any other situation that assumption would have made you smile, but truthfully, it was difficult to distract yourself from the dread that had settled itself in your chest.

“Feels like everyone.” He mumbled.

His mouth did that thing that he tended to do when he was unsure about something. It wasn’t a pout as such, but it vaguely resembled the expression of a kicked puppy, and you felt your previous elation dim rapidly. Your jaw clenched.

“Yeah.”

At your whisper of agreement, his head snapped up, and for some reason, the heat and sheer level of understanding behind his eyes had you reaching behind you to turn the light off, because you couldn’t stand the intensity of his gaze. It felt like you were being picked apart and put through an x-ray machine, like the ones in airports, but instead of suitcases it felt as though he was x-raying your entire brain.

“Are you jealous?” You whispered, slightly ashamed of your question.

“Yeah.”

There was a prick of relief.

“Of what?”

He didn’t hesitate when he answered plainly, “That I’ll never find someone I love as much as some of them love each other.”

You squeezed your eyes shut, knowing he wouldn’t see how that vulnerable admission would have pained you. You could have said that ‘of course you will’, but that kind of reassurance never sat well with Mat – he wanted honesty, definites.

“You’re a very lovable person, and anyone who doesn’t realise how incredible you are off the ice is a complete fuckwit.” You mumbled, but upon hearing silence, continued, “Over half of marriages end in divorce, and a hundred percent of divorces are a result of marriages, so maybe it’s not all it’s cracked up to be.” You were beginning to smile by the end of it, through no feat apart from the fact that what you were saying, whilst true, was a ridiculous notion of trying to encourage him to crack a smile whilst simultaneously easing his doubts.

You knew you were right, even if he didn’t, because Mat was the most lovable person you’d ever met. There was something endearing about him at first, his clever mumbles under his breath when he was surrounded by strangers, but from then on, he’d only continued to grow on you.

It was just a shame Shiv hadn’t figured that out before she broke up with him a couple of weeks ago.

Nevertheless, your comment seemed to have worked, because his eyes briefly closed as his mouth twitched upwards. It wasn’t his usual cheeky grin, but it would settle for now.

___

The breakfast buffet was packed full of stumbling, hungover adults, blinking wearily and not-so-subtly wincing at each chink of cutlery against porcelain plates. One of them was sitting opposite you, his head resting in his palm – which, every now and again, kept slipping either with a lack of real effort and energy or due to fatigue and slips in and out of consciousness. His plate was full of eggs and toast, his glass filled with orange juice, and apart from the unfair ‘I just got out of bed’ messy hairdo he’d got going on, Mat was wholly and unashamedly hungover.

He’d woken up once in the night and you had to shove the wine bucket back under his face, but it seemed only one of you was able to recollect that event, and it was you that was paying for it. It wouldn’t have been that much of a disruption if he hadn’t have spent twenty minutes dry heaving, claiming “I’m gonna–” every three seconds and if it weren’t for the fact that you’d made yourself climb out of bed to wash out said bucket again just in case, you wouldn’t be paying for such…exhaustion.

The only win out of the entire thing was that he was having to deal with a murderous headache, a swirling stomach, dizziness and travel sickness from walking – and you got to watch it all with some amount of amusement because you had warned him not to drink too much, and he was paying for his actions in real time.

You’d finished your breakfast a while ago, and had resorted to scrolling on your phone, but the sight in front of you was slowly getting your attention. Despite the hilarity of the situation, you were able to sympathise to some extent, because Mat had taken care of you on multiple occasions, so with the next gentle put-down of cutlery and the droop of his head, eyelashes indicating he’d fallen asleep again, you put your phone down on the table.

“Mat?” You whispered, mindful of his aching head. There was no response.

After snapping a quick picture, you reached a hand forwards, to clasp around the wrist clutching the fork tightly in his hand. He was warm, the t-shirt he was wearing clearly not doing enough to cool him down.

“Mathew?” You tried again, a little louder, taking the fork out of his hand. He stirred at the movement, lifting his head and blinking blearily. His eyes were red, and his skin was a little paler, lacking the usual flush.

He first glanced at the plate of eggs, then clenched his jaw and breathed heavily through his nostrils, the simple reminder of a plate of food making him nauseous, “Yeah?” He asked, raising an eyebrow.

“You gotta eat the eggs.” You urged, picking up the knife and cutting the toast, making sure to scoop some eggs onto it, “They’re good for hangovers.”

His nostrils flared, and he crossed his arms, looking somewhere to the left of you as you raised the forkful up, “I think I’m going to be sick.” He muttered, resorting to sipping a mouthful of orange juice.

You stifled a smile at his blatant disgust, “You don’t have to eat it all.” Nothing. Fucking stubborn. “Look, I won’t let you leave this table until you’ve eaten at least half of it, and if you eat half of it, I’ll give you my eyemask, headphones and travel pillow on the drive back.”

His eyes slowly slid over to you, ensuring not to travel too fast out of fear he’d become dizzy, and you could tell he was considering your offer. He glanced between the fork, then to you, and after several repetitions of that action, you’d concluded that if you pushed the fork a little closer to his face, there wouldn’t be an issue in him accepting the food. So you did just that, and with few gags he managed to finish off at least three quarters of the plate.

It wasn’t until you were fifteen minutes into driving, Mat with his head against the window, eyes covered with your mask, wearing your headphones and his cap, that either one of you spoke.

“Are you going to Lisa and Mike’s wedding?” He mumbled, breath momentarily fogging up the glass. His words cut through the stream of music you had going, and part of you startled at the sudden interruption, having been under the impression that he’d immediately gone to sleep.

It wasn’t until he lifted the eyemask off and slid the headphones off that you managed to gather yourself, answering him with a hurried, “Yes.”

Out of the corner of your eye you could see him nod his head fractionally, his mouth twisting into that all-too familiar expression, “What?” You demanded, that nervous tingle ricocheting through your hands.

You could feel yourself tense briefly, knowing whenever he got that scheming, thoughtful flicker in his expression that he was about to do one of two things, both involving him asking a question that involved you: he was about to ask you to do something you weren’t going to necessarily agree with, or ask you a hard-hitting, deep question that would leave you both in an embarrassing silence for the rest of the trip back.

He took a deep breath, hesitating, and you switched off the music, unable to deal with the tense atmosphere he’d suddenly created with one fucking look, “Uh..” he breathed a laugh, “I was thinking–”

“Fuck me.” You muttered, pressing your lips together.

You really hoped he was exaggerating his own dramaticness.

“-That maybe we should go together to all these weddings?” He paused, and after a few seconds of your silence, burst out, “You don’t have to or anything, but I just thought it’d be a–”

“Fucking hell, I thought it was going to be something more serious than that.” You interrupted, flashing him an amused smile as he stopped talking, his jaw hanging open as he digested your words.

“Is that a yes?” He arched a brow, clearly confused at your reaction, or lack thereof.

You shrugged, turning the music back on but keeping the volume low, “Why…” You momentarily paused, “Why would we both want to subject ourselves to more weddings when they’re already the bane of our existence?”

“Because we’ll have each other for support.”

A sad smile tugged at the corner of your mouth, “Neither of us can really get through weddings without drinking. Times that by two, and it’s borderline unhealthy.” You were clutching at straws, and you knew you were, but there was something that just niggled the back of your mind when you thought about attending more weddings with Mat as your plus one.

You’d both have the questions to answer, then the disbelieving glances when you told the truth, and the rest of the evening with people zooming in on something that didn’t exist. It wasn’t that Mat made you uncomfortable, but the attention he’d bring – only to be seen with you – would surely…change something?

He straightened, taking a sip of water, “Please.”

Oh, you absolutely were now. It was settled. Mat had a way of manipulating his voice to sound so wrecked and emotional that it physically killed something inside of you. You weren’t sure if he knew the particular effect it had, but as soon as he uttered ‘please’ with such conviction, you were gone for.

He was still speaking, but the back of your mind was racking up the travel costs, hotel costs, drinks costs, and the amount of time you’d have to request off work – it was a good thing you didn’t have any other holidays planned, or that many days off sick so far; you could rack up the paid holidays unpaid holidays–

“I already told them I was going with Shiv, and now…” he trailed off, head almost swinging in your direction. You took a quick glance at him out of the corner of your eye. Just as you were about to agree and put him out of his misery, he seemed to jump ahead, a twinge of panic in his tone, “My baby cousin is getting married before me. When he was born, I was eight. And when we were growing up it was all ‘oh, when are you and Shiv gonna tie the knot?’, and now it feels like they can’t talk to me without feeling like they’re pitying me. One mention of weddings and I get ten different people looking at me like it’s…an issue that I’m not married. Like they thought for sure that she was the one I was gonna end up with.” He took a deep breath and settled back into his seat, cheeks colouring as though he was embarrassed by the passionate outburst.

In all honesty, you were shocked it had taken him this long to say something. He dated Shiv for years. Even you thought they were going to end up marrying each other. When they broke up he ended up staying at your apartment with daily half-hour phone calls and FaceTime videos with Tito, who seemed so fucking torn about the whole situation, knowing the both of you could only work together to help him so much; he had to find a way to help himself eventually.

There was something about her not ‘being able to cope with his lifestyle’. You weren’t too sure of the specifics.

“Did you think that you were going to end up with her?” It was brave of you to ask. It shocked you that it was also the first time you even thought to ask him about it; you just assumed he did.

Yet, judging from the way his eyes went straight to the road ahead, he was somewhat at odds with himself, “I don’t know what I thought.” He shrugged, surprising you, “At first, I thought ‘this is either going to end in marriage or be the worst breakup of my life’, but I think that wore off after a while. She was comfortable, and we were content. Not so much happy, but tolerating each other.” Then he sighed, reaching to fiddle with the eyemask, and you took that as a hint to leave the topic alone for the time being, “I did love her, but if I’m being completely honest, I’ve been putting off buying a ring for a while. I’m kind of glad I didn’t though, because things are starting to feel more right now than they have in a while. It hurts to admit that, but…”

You nodded, proud he’d spilled what had been playing at his mind, “So this wedding deal – are we going to be colour matching–”

“Thank fuck.” He whispered, “I’m gonna spend the rest of my life thanking you for this–”

“Just shut the fuck up and go back to sleep.”

He adhered to the former, but didn’t immediately act on the latter. He was smiling, probably more than you’d seen him smile in a while, and you knew you wouldn’t come to regret the decision one bit. Mat was one of your best friends, as childish as that sounds, and if it meant taking some of that weight off him at your expense, you’d probably do it whenever you could.

“I love you too.”

You shot him a glance at the words he’d said, cheeks blazing. He knew you did.

#mat barzal x reader #mat barzal oneshot #plus one m barzal #nhl fic #nhl imagine #hockey fic #hockey imagine

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callmebrycelee · 1 month

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9-1-1 REACTION

Dearly beloved, we’re gathered here today to discuss the latest episode of 9-1-1. This reaction is for the season 7, sixth episode “There Goes the Groom” which originally aired May 2, 2024. The episode was written by Tim Minear and Nicole Barraza Kiem and directed by John J. Gray. Just a word of warning, this reaction will contain spoilers. You have been warned …

“He’s Tubbs, I’m Tubbs and this isn’t my puke, I don’t think.” – Eddie Diaz to Maddie Buckley

We start things off at a gorgeous venue where Maddie and Chimney’s wedding is to take place. We see Bobby and Athena looking restless and John and Anne Lee sitting with Jee-Yun. We then see Maddie freaking out because the boys (Chimney, Buck, and Eddie) are 30 minutes late. Phillip Buckley (played by Gregory Harrison) tries calling Buck’s phone but keeps getting his voicemail. Hen rushes in to tell Maddie that Buck’s car has arrived. When Maddie asks if Chimney is in his tux, Hen tells her she didn’t get a good look. Buck and Eddie arrive looking like they’ve been dragged through a hedge backwards. Eddie’s covered in someone else’s puke (gross!!!) and inexplicably missing his shirt. This season is all about giving us what we need and what we need is Ryan Guzman shirtless. Maddie asks them about Chimney. Buck tells her that it’s complicated.

Cue title card.

We get a flashback to the bachelor party Buck organized for Chimney. It should be pointed out that Chimney doesn’t want a bachelor party, something he’s intimated to Buck numerous times. I must say, the venue Buck chose to host the festivities was really cool-looking. There were all these neon signs on the walls and twinkly lights galore. It reminded me of a space where you’d play laser tag. Buck and Eddie are dressed in matching pastel Miami Vice-esque suits and Buck is being very fussy about everything. Tommy (played by Lou Ferrigno Jr.) arrives dressed in a black T-shirt and jeans and Buck nags him about not sticking to the 80’s theme. I’m gonna assume that Tommy is in his late-30’s and therefore Buck should be lucky he even came in the first place because the thought of leaving my house on a weeknight to go to a bachelor party does not sound the least bit appealing. Eddie offers Tommy a drink and he tells him he’s on standby which for all you kiddies out there who don’t know how jobs work, standby means that you’re technically not scheduled for the shift, but you have to be ready in case you get called in to work.

“You put that back, right now.” – Evan “Buck” Buckley to Ravi Panikkar

Tommy does give us a hint about Chimney’s nickname when he reminds Eddie that he knew Chimney before he was Chimney. I love the whole mythos surrounding the name and I hope by the end of the series we finally get an explanation. I also like how sassy Tommy is in this scene. Hen, Karen, and Ravi arrive but our guest of honor is missing. While Buck calls Chimney’s cell, everyone else looks bored out of their mind. Buck asks Hen to call Chimney since he’s more likely to answer her call, but she declines. She reminds Buck that Chimney told him he didn’t want a bachelor party, but Buck tells her he didn’t. We then get a small scene where Chimney doesn’t mince words when he tells Buck he does not want a bachelor party. It should be noted that Eddie is present for the exchange and yet he is the one to suggest to Buck that they dress as Crockett and Tubbs from Miami Vice. Now, this is my one pet peeve about Eddie. He always indulges Buck and then kind of absolves himself of responsibility when things go awry.

Back in the not-so-distant future, people start to leave. Buck begs Hen and Karen to stay but they tell him they have to get home to Denny and Mara. Ravi is the next to leave followed by Tommy who gets a text to report to work. Buck is so disappointed to see him go, and I love how he tells Tommy to be safe before he leaves. Eddie is the only one left and when a group of young women wander into their party space, they decide to salvage the rest of the night by turning up with a bunch of strangers. Now, prior to the episode airing, Tim Minear announced that a previously advertised scene involving Buck and Eddie singing karaoke was cut due to the episode being too long. This led to more than a few irate fans, mostly Buddie shippers, sending a barrage of tweets and comments to the series co-creator voicing their frustration with the decision to remove the scene. Some even accused the writers of queer baiting which is really dumb when you consider that one of the characters is actually queer so what baiting is even involved. I get being upset because your favorite pairing on the show is not being featured as prominently as you would like but I find it absurd that someone would then go to Beyonce’s internet to harass the writers and the cast about said decision. I find it disgusting and I wish a certain ship would realize that certain writers would take them more seriously if they weren’t acting like a bunch of coked up baboons. But I digress.

Buck and Eddie wake up the next morning in a completely trashed hotel room. The place is wrecked. Seriously, who is going to pay for all the damages? I’m honestly surprised by both of their behavior. Especially Eddie’s. He’s usually the more level-headed of the two but it’s odd to see him exhibiting such frat boy behavior. Perhaps he needed to blow of some steam. Anywho, they go to check on Chimney but only find his tux. Oh dear!

Buck and Eddie wake up the morning in a completely trashed hotel room. Seriously, who is going to have to pay for all the damages? I’m extremely surprised by Eddie’s behavior.

“I am 9-1-1.” – Maddie Buckley to Margaret Buckley

Back in the present, Maddie tries calling Chimney herself. When he doesn’t pick up, Hen asks if she has him on Find My Friend, a feature that will send current or last location to anyone you choose to share it with. She sees that Chimney is on Century Park East but wonders why he’s there.

We next see a guy named Jeff (played by Khorri Ellis) knocking on the driver’s side window of Chimney’s vehicle. Chimney is inside looking a little worse for wear. He’s sweaty and bleary-eyed. He looks like he has the flu. He also seems out of it. Chimney rolls down the window and Jeff asks him if he’s okay. He tells Jeff that he feels like he should be somewhere. Jeff asks him his name and Chimney says his name is Howard. Chimney says he needs to leave but Jeff, rightfully, tells him he is no condition to be driving. He offers to drive Chimney where he needs to go and when Chimney steps outside the vehicle, Jeff gets in, chucks Chimney’s cell out the window, and drives off leaving Chimney stranded.

FOUR DAYS AGO

“I promise to never put her in a position where she feels she needs to stab me to death.” – Howard “Chimney” Han to John and Anne Lee

We see Chimney with John and Anne Lee (played by Kelvin Han Yee and Freda Foh Shen) practicing Jesa, a Korean ceremony in which one pays tribute to a loved one on the anniversary of their death. I love any time we get to see Chimney with the Lees because while he has been able to make amends with his father, John and Anne Lee are his real parents and Kevin Lee, their son, is his brother. Chimney and the Lees have dinner together and Anne asks Chimney if he is excited about the wedding. When Chimney goes to respond, his hand starts shaking and he drops his food. John jokingly asks if he’s nervous, but Chimney assures him that he doesn’t have the jitters. He is, however, feeling jittery and tells them he has a headache he can’t seem to shake. Anne offers him aspirin, but Chimney tells her that he will be fine after he says, “I do”.

John asks him about what happened to him and Maddie’s plan to have a simple ceremony at their home. Chimney tells him that the plan has changed. Phillip and Maddie Buckley are flying out for the wedding and have offered to foot the bill for the venue since they were not at Maddie’s first wedding. Anne says they waited to attend the right wedding. Chimney makes a dark joke about Maddie having to kill her first husband Doug and the Lees laugh. Chimney says he looking forward to having a traditional wedding; however, there is one tradition he is not looking forward to and that’s having a bachelor party.

Back in the present, Chimney sees his phone lying in the middle of a busy road. We see him walk into traffic to retrieve it and he almost gets hit by a bus. The driver opens the door and Chimney boards the bus. When she pulls off, the wheels of the bus crush Chimney’s phone.

We head over to the wedding venue where everyone except for Chimney is gathered. It was so fun seeing all of the main and secondary cast in the same scene together in their formal wear. Athena gets a call from Officer Williams (played by Chris Wu) who has located Chimney’s phone but neither Chimney nor his car is with it. Athena asks him to put out a BOLO for Chimney and his car. Maddie asks Officer Williams if there are any traffic cameras nearby and he says there are a few.

Maddie, Hen, and Josh go to the dispatch center. Maddie says she will check the Century Park East traffic cam footage to see if she can find Chimney and Josh will check the call logs to see if there have been any calls from that vicinity in the last 12 hours. Sue sees them and asks if this is a runaway bride situation. Hen tells her they are looking for a runaway groom.

Back on the bus, Chimney is clearly not in his right mind because he is hallucinating Doug Kendall (played by Brian Hallisay). Doug sits next to him, and Chimney asks if he knows him. Doug says that Chimney may forget everything else, but he could never forget him. Doug is wearing a Santa hat and has a gift he says is from the both of them to Maddie. He opens the bag and pulls out of knife which he uses to stab Chimney in the side. Even though I knew that Doug wasn’t real, that didn’t make this scene any less troubling to watch. Doug twists the blade and disappears leaving a confused Chimney alone on the bus.

“Maybe I got too caught up in the dream wedding. I was so excited about marrying him.” – Maddie Buckley to Hen Wilson

Meanwhile, reviews the camera footage and sees Chimney walking into traffic. She sees him almost get hit by a bus and then board said bus. Josh says the bus is a metro bus and asks if there’s any way they can see the bus ID number. Maddie writes down the number and gives it to Sue who tells her she will call the MTA. We then see Chimney get dropped off in an unfamiliar part of town. We switch back to dispatch where Maddie and Hen are reviewing the footage from inside the bus. I love seeing these two work together because out of all of our characters, these two love Chimney the most. Maddie notices that Chimney’s talking to himself, and Hen thinks he may be hallucinating. Maddie wonders if this is some sort of delayed reaction to his brain injury from back in season one or if he’s having some sort of breakdown. Hen reminds Maddie that when Chimney gets stressed, he deflects. Maddie wonders if Chimney marrying her is the thing that’s stressing him out, but Hen quickly lets her know that marrying her is the one thing he wasn’t stressed about. She tells Maddie that the only thing she’s sure of at the moment is that Chimney can’t wait to marry her.

Josh returns and tells them that he talked to the bus driver who says that Chimney seemed a little out of it but otherwise normal. The bus driver also said that Chimney kept talking about being late for work. Hen points out that the bus Chimney was on wouldn’t go anywhere near the firehouse and wonders where he could have been dropped off at. Speaking of Chimney, we see him standing out in front of a building. He talks to a man named Carl (played by Exie Booker) and asks him about Skinny Bob’s K-Town Karaoke. For those of you who recall the episode “Chimney Begins” that is the name of the bar where Chimney used to work prior to joining the 118. Carl tells Chimney the bar burned down which we saw in the very same episode. Chimney has flashes of the night the bar burned down but he can’t quite piece together the memory. The make matters worse, he starts to see Doug again only this time his future wife’s dead husband is covered in blood. Chimney freaks out and runs away.

“”We’re gonna find him, Maddie.” – Athena Grant to Maddie Buckley

Athena checks in with Maddie and Hen and tells them she talked to Carl who says that Chimney looked agitated and feverish. Carl also told Athena that Chimney thought that the bakery where Carl works was a karaoke bar. Athena tells them that she has some officers searching the area and she and Bobby plan to stick around just in case Chimney comes back. She assures Maddie that they will find Chimney. Josh reminds them that Chimney’s bachelor party was at a bachelor party; however, Maddie points out that the bachelor party was the night before. Sue asks if it is possible Chimney doesn’t know what day it is. Hen chimes in and says she’s not sure if he even knows what year it is. She pulls up an article from 2005 on her phone which shows that Chimney saved a lot of people by getting them out of the karaoke bar when it caught on fire. Maddie wonders if he’s forgotten 20 years of his life and Hen says he might not be the only one.

TWO WEEKS AGO

“You don’t have to worry about this. It’s all taken care of.” – Evan Buckley to Maddie Buckley

We get another flashback scene, this one involving the 118 responding to an emergency where Thom DeSalvo (played by Brandon Bales) is trapped inside an air duct. Buck broaches the topic of Chimney’s bachelor party and the latter volunteers himself to go into the air duct while the rest go inside the room directly beneath where Thom is trapped. Chimney locates Thom and checks his vitals. Thom tells him that his heart is racing, and he has chest pains. He then sneezes directly into Chimney’s face. Chimney tells Thom to relax but he says he cannot relax because he just saw his fiancée having sex with another man. I kind of felt bad for Thom because he is truly heartbroken although if I were his friend, I wouldn’t have advised that he go spy on them. Meanwhile, Bobby, Hen, Eddie, and Buck are able to knock out a portion of the ceiling and lower Thom down. As he is loaded into an ambulance, Hen talks to the woman Thom said was his fiancée and discovers that she is, in fact, not his fiancée. She says that Thom is her ex-husband and that they’ve been divorced for 17 months.

Back in the present, Buck brings Maddie a change of clothes and Eddie brings food. Buck notices that Hen is on the phone, and he asks Maddie who she is speaking with. Maddie tells him that Hen is checking on the patient Thom from their emergency two weeks ago. Eddie is surprised the guy is still in the hospital since he wasn’t even hurt. Maddie tells them that Hen thinks that Chimney is exhibiting the same behaviors as Thom. Hen announces that Thom had viral encephalitis that he picked up while in Central America. Buck points out that Chimney was in close quarters with Thom. Eddie suggests they all get checked to see if they have it. Hen points out that Chimney was the only one who had direct exposure to Thom. Josh asks her what the prognosis is and Hen says that if Chimney were in a hospital it would be good but every minute that passes without treatment, the swelling in his brain gets worse. If Chimney does not get medical attention ASAP, he is going to suffer permanent brain damage and most likely die. Maddie asks her about Thom Desalvo’s status and Hen tells her that he died earlier that morning.

“He may not remember who he is but he is who he is.” – Athena Grant to Bobby Nash, Evan “Buck” Buckley, and Eddie Diaz

We see Chimney wandering the streets of Koreatown in a state of delirium. He nearly gets hit by a car and the driver, who is either under the influence or experiencing a medical emergency, plows into a farmers’ market, hurting a lot of people in the process. The paramedic switch is flipped in Chimney, and he springs into action. He tells a woman to call 9-1-1 and tends to the driver who is having a seizure. It’s amazing that Chimney is able to stay focused to help everyone, even while in the midst of his own medical emergency. This scene reminds me of when Mateo on Lone Star jumped into action during the dust storm back in season two.

Athena, Bobby, Buck, and Eddie arrive on the scene of the accident and Bobby reports that a man fitting Chimney’s description was on the scene triaging the area. Eddie thinks this means that Chimney knows who he is but Bobby quickly adds that Chimney told one of the witnesses he works at a karaoke bar. Athena sees this as a good sign regardless because Chimney is tapping into something that is so natural to him which is helping others. Bobby says that Chimney was last seen 30 minutes ago so he suggests that they canvass the area to look for him. Athena says she will get the police involved in the search as well.

Buck strikes off on his own to look for Chimney and he does end up at the spot where Chimney is at; unfortunately, Chimney is passed out, so he does not hear Buck calling for him. Chimney receives another visit from Doug who tries to convince him that Maddie left him. Chimney remembers the video Maddie left him before she left for Boston. Doug tells Chimney he is sick in the head and that he screwed around with a married woman. Chimney then sees himself lying on the ground after he got stabbed by Doug back in season two. Doug tells him to stop fighting and to go to sleep. Chimney eventually passes out and sees a white light.

“Howie, you got to get up, man.” – Kevin Lee to Howard “Chimney” Han

Now this is the part where I started to tear up in the episode. A man dressed in turnout gear steps out of the light and Chimney sees that it’s Kevin Lee (played by James Chen). It is in this moment I realized that we never saw Chimney grieve his fallen brother. Chimney starts to cry upon seeing Kevin. Kevin tells him to get up and Chimney says he is so tired and that his head is hurting. He wants to rest but Kevin says he cannot. He tells Chimney he is sick and needs medical attention. Chimney touches Kevin’s face and tells him he misses him and that he’s glad he’s okay. Kevin tells Chimney that he will be okay, but he needs to get up. He drags Chimney to his feet and tells him that Doug was never there. Chimney says that Kevin is there, and Kevin says that Chimney invited him. Kevin tells him all he needs to do is get home.

“We always find our way back to each other somehow.” – Maddie Buckley to Howard “Chimney” Han

Chimney ends up at the Lees house asking for Kevin Lee. Anne tells him that Kevin is dead. Chimney starts crying again and finally collapses onto the floor. He wakes up in the hospital where Maddie is at his bedside. She asks him if he knows where he is at and he shakes his head. She asks him if he knows who he is and he apologizes for missing their wedding. Maddie starts crying and now I’m crying, too. Maddie is happy he remembers. Jee-Yun runs into the room with Phillip Buckley close on her heels. Chimney tells Maddie he was trying to get back to her and Jee-Yun the whole time. Chimney asks Maddie if she will marry him, and she says she will the minute they get out of the hospital. He asks her when that will be, and she says the doctors say it will be three weeks. Chimney tells her he doesn’t want to wait that long. He doesn’t want to wait another minute.

We next see Maddie back in her wedding dress. I must say, the viewers give Phillip and Margaret Buckley a hard time based on their previous relationships with Maddie and Buck, but I have to say it was so nice seeing the Buckley family together and on the same page. Back in Chimney’s room, John and Anne Lee are helping him into get into his tuxedo jacket. John tells Chimney that Kevin is smiling right now, and Chimney agrees. Okay, cue more tears. While Jennifer Love Hewitt sings a cover of “Islands in the Stream” which is the song Maddie and Chimney sang karaoke to, we see Maddie being walked down the hospital corridor by Phillip while flower girl Jee-Yun walks ahead of them. Phillip leads Maddie into Chimney’s room and Bobby officiates their wedding which feels so appropriate. They exchange vows and rings and finally kiss in front of their family and friends. I loved the moment when Bobby is talking about the significance of the rings, and he looks over at Athena. It’s just a reminder of how perfect the couples on this show are.

“Thanks, Tommy. It looks like you were … busy.” – Howard “Chimney” Han to Tommy Kinard

Buck gets a text and leaves the room while everyone is applauding Chimney and Maddie’s union. He makes it to the emergency room just in time to see Tommy walk through the sliding doors. Tommy is covered in soot and ash and immediately apologizes for being late. He tells Buck that the fire he just fought was a beast. Buck calls him a beast and kisses him. Now this kiss was an upgrade from the kiss two episodes ago which is already a great kiss. It was a great first kiss. With this kiss, the passion was turned all the way up to an 11. Seriously, these two have such amazing chemistry and I love how things are gradually escalating. I do love that Buck is the one who initiates the kiss because it shows that he is all in on their romance.

Buck and Tommy head back to Chimney’s room aka the wedding and Tommy immediately apologizes for missing the wedding. He congratulates Chimney and Maddie and Chimney thanks him. There’s this amazing moment when Chimney puts two and two together and realizes that Buck and Tommy are together. He is immediately accepting as I knew he would be and Hen whispers to Karen that it’s about damn time and of course Hen already knew because Hen is very perceptive. We get other reactions as well. Eddie looks both proud and happy for his best friend and Margaret gives her husband Phillip a look that says, does that mean what I think it means and Phillip looks content. As I mentioned before, the Buckleys get a bad rep by the fans but I am choosing to see this as a good sign of things to come.

We end the episode with Maddie and Chimney. She asks him how he is feeling, and he tells her he is feeling right at home. She jokes and asks if that’s because every significant moment of their lives happens in a hospital. He tells her that he feels at home because they are together. He looks around the room and says it’s not the most romantic place for their honeymoon. Maddie says there’s worst and at the same time they say upside down cruise ships. Ha! Maddie looks at her ring and says she can’t believe they are married. She says it’s the wedding of her dreams and Chimney says it’s a day he’ll never forget. Chimney asks Maddie if Buck and Tommy were a thing before his amnesia and she says yes. He says that means his memory is back. In the last moment of the episode. Chimney asks Maddie about the meaning behind his name and then it fades to black. I guess we will have to wait to find out how Chimney got his infamous nickname.

So, that’s our episode and what an amazing episode it was. Looking back at the promo for “There Goes the Groom”, Tim Minear and Company really had me convinced that we were getting an homage to The Hangover. I was not expecting this episode to be as heartbreaking and heartwarming as it was. Shout out to Kenneth Choi who deserves his flowers. He not only delivered some of the most powerful moments of the episode, looking back, Kenneth has been constantly delivering since season one. The scene where he talks to Kevin shattered my heart into pieces only to superglue it back. Chimney is usually the comic relief of the show and it’s often been said that comedians are some of the most unhappy people on the planet. Who knew he was holding onto so much grief. In many ways this episode reminds me of last season’s “In Another Life” where Buck learns just how valuable he is to those around him. Chimney has a similar journey in this episode and thankfully he’s walking away from this horrific ordeal knowing just how loved he is by his family, his friends, and most importantly his wife.

The Madney wedding wasn’t what I was expecting but it was better than anything I could’ve ever imagined. One thing I think the writers did well with this wedding that I wished they did with TK and Carlos’ wedding over on Lone Star is the joy aspect. Everyone in that hospital room was filled with love and happiness despite everything that had transpired. I love how once a season we get these moments where the cast is all together, celebrating, and it’s the rare occasion we get to see the actors come through their characters. This is a cast that loves each other and it’s so apparent. It’s one of the many reasons I love this show. But, I digress. Maddie and Chimney’s wedding was absolutely beautiful and had we not gone through all the drama and tragedy, we would’ve missed out on Bobby being the officiant. It makes total sense that our fearless leader would be the one to marry Chimney and Maddie. I look forward to what happens next for Chimney and Maddie. These two have endured so much trauma and heartache and I pray the writers leave them alone for awhile.

Lastly, I have to talk about the moment that has set both Twitter and Tumblr ablaze albeit for different reasons. Many have doubted and still doubt the legitimacy of Buck and Tommy’s burgeoning relationship, but I think this episode made it abundantly clear these two are here to stay at least for the rest of this season. I don’t know what plans Tim Minear has for these two characters but I love the slow burn of it all. Sometimes I’ll be sitting, doing nothing, and it’ll dawn on me that Evan “Buck” Buckley is bisexual, and he is dating a kind, patient, and extremely hot firefighter named Tommy Kinard. And maybe it’s my imagination but this is the happiest Buck has ever looked. The smile he gives after he comes back to Chimney’s room with Tommy is something I will rewatch this episode over and over again just to see again. Oliver and Lou’s chemistry is off the charts and that shouldn’t suggest that there’s anything wrong with Oliver and Ryan’s chemistry. I think Oliver has chemistry with everyone he appears on screen with. And, as the mostly one-sided war rages on between Buddie shippers and BuckTommy/Tevan/Kinley shippers, I think at the end of the day, the most important thing to remember is that Buck is bisexual, he is (mostly) out, and he is happy. We have seen this man endure emotional and physical turmoil since episode one. I’m happy that he gets to be happy and that’s what matters. I cannot wait to see what happens next. Until next time …

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lucyav13 · 3 days

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Nastasia

(Credits of the art to @starlitwishes-art all of their art is great! <3 )

Nastasia's past is explained by Carson in one of his histories:

'Once upon a time, a man went to look for the girl he loved, who was missing. As he passed through a forest, he found a bat stuck in a trap. He set the bat free. It promptly thanked him and disappeared.

As he lay down to camp that night, he heard a voice and looked about. He noticed the sky was filled with a huge, round moon. There stood before him a woman he had never seen. The bat had transformed into the species of the one she had fallen for.' Now, I don't know if that's true or not...

The last part of the story was... 'The bat pledged eternal loyalty to the man out of love on that night.' ...

Obviously, we can suppose that the man in the story is Blumiere (before he turns into Count Bleck), the girl who he was looking for is Timpani and the bat who then turns into a woman is Nastasia.

Her name is Greek for "She who shall rise up again", possibly a reference to her only falling unconscious from a deadly attack or the story with the bat and the man Carson tells titled "Of Bats and Men". It is also a portmanteau of "nasty" and "Anastasia".

In the English version, she speaks in a casual manner, using words like "'K" and "gonna" often, although in the Japanese version she speaks much more professionally.

Her abilities enables her to control several people at once and command them to do tasks they would never consider doing in their right mind, such as forcing Luigi to attack his friends. However, her hypnosis is at least possible to resist, as shown by Peach during her wedding with Bowser. Nastasia seems to use her power by lifting her glasses, upon which a white glow flashes and her target is surrounded in square lasers, which puts the victim under Nastasia's (and by extension, Count Bleck's) control. Notably, the hypnosis she uses may sometimes cause physical changes in the victim, such as hypnotized Koopa Troopas donning dark glasses and spikes. (And perhaps that would explain the drastic change in Mr. L outfit)

Another fun fact is that, in the post-game, there's a boy on Flopside who was in love with Nastasia, but she comments to us her feelings for the Count, and decides that even if she could learn to love again, she probably never could have measured up to Timpani anyway.

Card type: Rare

Card Description: Nastasia is Count Bleck's executive assistant. She's in charge of scheduling, organizing, and brain-control. Word is, she's got a secret crush on her boss.

Trivia: Before the game's initial release, artwork of Nastasia and Tiptron together was released despite the fact that the two never interact in the game.

Tippi originally had a tattle for Nastasia in the postgame, though since Tippi would have already been gone by this point, it went unused and remains in the game's files. The tattle reads, "That's Nastasia, the count's executive assistant. She has served him the longest... Without him, she is quite lonely, but she manages to go on in her new life... It is hard for me to see her like this... I think I know exactly how she feels..."

Quotes:

"Yeah, I'll fire off a memo on that...but for now, we have another item on the agenda..."

"Yeah, so some minions in the Bowser organization are still resisting assimilation. So I'm heading out to squash the resistance..."

"So I guess you finished up that report on your own inadequacy that I needed?"

"Um, no, my count. I won't be doing that. My life is already sworn to you."

"If only I could have, y'know, been that girl... Things would have been different..."

"Yeah, I'm afraid your orders mean nothing anymore."

The above text is from the Super Mario Wiki and is available under a Creative Commons license. Attribution must be provided through a list of authors or a link back to the original article. Source: https://www.mariowiki.com/Carson

#spm #super paper mario #fanart #my researches #spm villians #@starlitwishes-art #new part #Nastasia #Nastasia's past #super paper mario investigations

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rosepetalsinwinter · 1 year

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Meant to Be — Bucky Barnes (5)

Chapter 5 — Fie Ce-o Fi

Pairing: mafia!bucky x innocent!reader

Word count: 10,335

Summary: Preparations for the wedding have begun. How is the girl dealing with everything, and just what is James Barnes up to?

Warnings: depressive thoughts, language, brief violence and torture.

Note: Buckle in for a long one. Excuse any mistakes, I will fix them as I find them. Barely edited, because I wanted it out!

Welp. Let me know what you guys think. 💜💜

Ao3│Wattpad│Ko-fi

Main Masterlist│Series Masterlist│Series Playlist

Chapter 4 — Chapter 5 — Chapter 6

I saw grief drinking a cup of sorrow and called out, "It tastes sweet, does it not?" "You've caught me," grief answered, "and you've ruined my business. How can I sell sorrow when you know it's a blessing?"

— Jalaluddin Rumi

April 27th, 2018

A week. Was that enough time to plan a wedding? The girl didn't think so; neither did her wedding planner, who swore up a storm when she learned as much.

"Seven days?" the petite Japanese woman exclaimed when Fleur broke the news. "Seven days to plan a wedding? Seven days to plan the wedding of the century?"

For some reason, Leah Ishikawa, the wedding planner, kept getting stuck on the seven days. The girl was unfazed, however, having had the time to undergo a similar attack in the morning.

"Mr. Burgundy told me to encourage you to work closely with Mrs. Winnifred Barnes and Miss Rebecca," said Fleur in her thick accent, opting to take charge of the conversation since it was clear the girl was unable to. "I understand they have already done a lot of the work. Mr. Burgundy wants you to make sure all of the bride's expectations are met."

The girl was curled up on the couch in her room, listening idly to the conversation while she stared out the window. She briefly heard Leah mention a photoshoot of some sort but was promptly distracted by the guards making their rotations on the grounds.

Security had tightened immensely since her talk with her father that morning. He placed guards at all the entrances, and their job was to keep an eye on her. The one outside her room was particularly annoying, calling her "kiddo" and making jokes that all seemed to land short. He introduced himself as "Clint Barton, skilled marksman and your babysitter for the week." Clint was to follow the girl with two men of his choosing if she ever felt the need to make an appearance in public.

She did not. However, it was not up to her because, right away, Leah loudly declared that they were "going shopping."

They arrived at an exclusive Italian fashion house, whose name she couldn't pronounce, and the girl tried on multiple dresses of varying colours and lengths. She sat in the backseat of an escalade, with the child lock on, while Clint used her father's card to pay.

Back at the house, she stared numbly at the wall while light flashed in her peripheral, and a photographer asked her to smile.

She wanted to cry.

"For the invitations," Leah said. "I heard a rumour the Patriarch of All Romania was specifically asked to attend, so you better smile."

The girl mustered all the energy she could and did as asked. The artificial smile stayed on her face for the next few days. She made small talk with the esthetician lasering the hair off her body, and joked with the ladies at the spa who were giving her a manicure. The girl even spoke personally with the baker decorating her cake, telling him she wanted "something sweet and romantic, to symbolize the love she shared with her fiancé."

Her father's warning loomed a constant shadow over her. "Don't give me any reason to remind you."

The threat to her best friend's life kept the girl from showing her real emotions. A crippling fear coursed through her veins, and the pit in her gut that never seemed to go away became as prominent as ever. She spent her days smiling through several appointments with various professionals—florists, caterers, and musicians. She spent her nights curled up on the bean bag in the tree house, dreaming of her brother, waking up drenched in sweat in the aftermath.

Despite the girl's bleak reality, the full force of her situation did not hit her until a few days before the wedding, during her first dress fitting.

"Deep breath in."

The girl didn't know how she could possibly breathe in more. Her lungs were already at max capacity.

Maria Rambeau was a big name in the wedding business. She was a majestic sight to behold, with grey streaks in her stylishly short hair. In her prime, Maria dressed celebrities such as Amal Clooney and Elizabeth Taylor. The girl was supposed to be appreciative—excited, even, by her presence, but she could only manage a tight-lipped smile and muted enthusiasm, which she blamed on nerves before the big day. Maria Rambeau's team took over her entire room, hauling out long racks of white dresses of all styles and shapes.

The girl gave them free rein to put her in whatever they deemed fit. She had no energy left to be picky. Her mood immediately shifted when they put her in the first dress. She stiffened in front of the mirror, one foot on the raised podium and the other curling around the soft carpet.

She was wearing white. Unsure why that detail stuck out, it was all she could focus on. She tried on a second dress, indifferent to the heated discussion around her. More lace, less lace. A-line, satin, ball gown, taffeta. It all became a blur.

Fleur placed a gentle hand on the girl's elbow, which she barely felt, and helped her down the podium. They measured her once more, cinching her waist, asking her to stand straighter. Fleur caught the girl's blank look and offered a smile that went unreturned.

She walked up to the podium after trying on what felt like the thousandth dress of the day. The entire room fell silent, so she turned toward the mirror to see what was wrong.

She looked pretty. But, of course, she did. The girl had lost weight in the last couple of days due to all the stress, making her look frail. She was done up like a barbie doll, all prim and proper. With all signs of sleep concealed, an unnatural blush on her cheek, and elongated lashes, she no longer looked like herself. Money was prone to do that to a person.

Gone were the lines around her mouth whenever she smiled. Gone was the spark in her eyes that came with the feeling of being alive and free. She wasn't free, and she certainly did not feel alive.

The dress was pretty too. Long, flowy, tight, and big. It stuck to the girl like a second skin, letting her leg peek out, just barely teasing the apex of her thigh. She grabbed the strapless neckline and pulled. It was tight, with no chance of falling, though she could not help but fear it anyway.

Melancholy struck out of nowhere—Dove, with her infectious smile and bold ideas. She would laugh at the girl if she could see her now.

Maybe it was the wishful thinking of two young girls—two naïve girls—to want a wedding together. Dove was supposed to marry first—an impromptu wedding off the coast of an island city, on a stolen (read: borrowed) yacht. During the bouquet toss, Dove planned to hurl the flowers straight at her friend's face, and as a bridesmaid, the girl would have no choice but to honour the tradition; and marry.

A year later, the girl would marry somewhere "romantic" and "old" (like her soul, according to Dove). Their kids would grow to become friends, and the two would live as neighbours with their respective husbands by their sides.

Wishful thinking, as she mentioned before, of two naïve girls. It all seemed so impossible now. So unreal. Like a dream or a fleeting mirage.

When she was a little girl, her brother walked her down an imaginary aisle to marry her imaginary husband. She had long since grown out of that childish phase, yet still, even years later, the girl could not help the thread of longing that pulled at her heart from the idea.

She was in no hurry to admit to anyone that she had planned her wedding in between daydreams. Just her and her betrothed, under the night sky, mimicking the palace of mirrors that emperor Shah Jahan built for his beloved.

How foolish.

The crowd mistook the girl's quiet sniffles as a positive reaction, when in reality, she was dangerously teetering the edge of dissociation, half stuck in her dreams and half in her nightmares.

Rambeau, teetering the edge of seventy-six, took slow steps towards the girl and placed a veil over her head.

"Oh, goodness! You look gorgeous!" Maria exclaimed, clapping her hands like a child. The future Mrs. Barnes made the most beautiful bride.

The girl sniffed again and wiped a tear from under her eye. So, naturally, the entire room erupted in cheers of approval because what else could she be crying about, if not in happiness over her upcoming nuptials?

She was tired, achy, and sad, barely able to breathe in the dress. She wanted nothing more than to get out of the constricting fabric.

"This one," she demanded desperately, yearning for the torment to end. "I want this one!"

And as anticipated, no one complained. How could they? It was the perfect dress in their eyes, and she was the perfect bride.

"Oh!" exclaimed one of the designers. "It's a perfect fit too! We won't need to do much altering."

The girl couldn't breathe right, but she decided against saying anything. She just wanted the day to be over.

A knock sounded at the door, and Fleur, who had been a quiet and passive observer till then, ran to open it. She had her eyes trained on the floor throughout the entire ordeal, choosing to keep her opinions to herself. Perhaps it was because they weren't favourable to the majority of the room. No one wanted to hear that the fitting was a waste of time, that the bride didn't care much to walk down the aisle in a white dress, if at all.

"Mr. Burgundy? Come in," said Fleur. "Your daughter was just finishing up."

Danial Burgundy's presence filled the entire space, making it feel much smaller than it was. He nodded to the people occupying the room, then extended his hands towards Rambeau.

"I take it the fitting went well," Danial observed.

"Beautifully," replied Maria. "Don't know where you've been hiding her."

Danial shrugged. "Can never be too careful." His demeanour was casual, but the implication was anything but.

Maria seemed a smart woman and easily took the hint. "That is true. I always thought your wife was the most beautiful bride I ever dressed, but your daughter easily surpassed her."

The mention of her mother's wedding surprised the girl.

Danial nodded in acknowledgement. "Speaking of, I'd like a moment alone with her."

This was ridiculous. The room was starting to spin now, and it was becoming harder to breathe. The girl wanted out.

The room cleared as quickly as lightning. Maria's entire team was gone in seconds, leaving behind all their supplies. Fleur gave the girl a warning look before making her way out as well, shutting the door behind her.

"You look..." Danial began, unable to adequately put into words all that he was feeling.

"Different?" supplied the girl.

"Yes. But it's not your—"

"—My style," she finished for him. I know."

Danial nodded nervously. "Yes, well, you look good. Pretty. Beautiful."

The girl did not bother giving him a reply. Her mind was still stuck on her former life. Like a broken record, she found herself going back in time when things were different. And how cruel, wishing for something she could no longer have.

Four years of her life wasted, gone down the drain. What did her school think happened to her? She had a life in Vancouver, a job, friends, a routine—now she had nothing. Did anyone notice she was gone? Did Dove believe whatever lie she was fed about the girl's whereabouts? She would never find out. Just like she would never get to walk down the stage and receive her degree.

Though, the girl would be doing a similar thing tomorrow. She would walk down the aisle instead of a stage, would stand in front of a priest and her fiancé instead of the chancellor and the entirety of her graduating class. Instead of a degree and a new job, she would receive a kiss and a lifelong prison sentence.

"Your mother would have loved to see you like this. She always wanted you to get married," said Danial.

The girl blinked, briefly taken by surprise. "I assumed differently. I thought she'd be too busy having the time of her life in the Bahamas to even think about me."

Hurt flashed through her father's face so quickly she was sure she imagined it. "She'd still want to be there for the big day," he insisted.

"Okay," the girl said simply, not believing her father but wanting to end the conversation. She turned away, mindlessly eyeing her reflection in the mirror.

"I haven't given you a wedding present yet," Danial told her.

The girl scoffed. He was joking, surely. "I don't need a present," she replied blandly.

"There must be something," he teased, "that you want."

"I don't want to marry a monster," her heart screamed. "I want to be free." But those were unrealistic things to ask. Then a thought hit her. "I spent the past five years working toward my degree."

Her father stood behind her, towering over her frame in the reflection. "What are you asking?" he demanded sternly. Perhaps he knew her train of thought. They were, after all, much to her dismay, of the same blood.

"I'm asking for one day. To walk the stage, say goodbye to my old life." She straightened her shoulders, unwilling to back down this time. "I want to graduate. That is what I want for the wedding present."

"No." Not the most surprising response, but irritating nonetheless.

"It's only a day," she countered. "Twenty-four hours. That's all I'm asking."

Danial clenched his jaw and flexed his hands. "No," he declared.

His second refusal felt like a slap. Tears of resentment gathered in her eyes. "You're not being fair. I've done everything you asked."

"Life isn't fair," he retorted.

"Papa, please." The girl didn't mean to call him that. It just slipped out in her most vulnerable state.

The ice around Danial's heart began to melt. She had not called him that in almost ten years—since the decline of their relationship. To hear it after so long was like a punch to his gut. In his surprised state, Danial let his daughter's plea seep through his defences—he deserved it—and let himself soak in her pain and grief. White, hot guilt clawed up his spine, but he stomped it before it could take root.

"No," Danial said again, more decided in his answer than before. He turned on his heel and walked out of the room before the first tear could leave her eye and drop to the floor. Danial bid farewell to his old friend and sent her back in. Why couldn't she have asked for diamonds instead? He decided he needed a drink.

Back in the room, a crowd gathered once more. "Now," said one of the assistants, oblivious to the torment the girl was going through, "let's see what we can do about getting you some matching lingerie."

The girl smiled through the tears threatening to fall down her face. She supposed she would always be one of those who dream. And her dreams would have to be enough because whoever said that "dreams always come true" was a goddamn liar.

May 3rd, 2018

He woke with a shout. Cold seeped through his clothes and into his skin, making him shiver violently.

"Fuck!" he shouted, pulling the covers away from his body. He ran a hand over his eyes, wiping the water from his face. "What the fuck?"

Bucky glared up at Steve, who stood next to Bucky with a shit-eating grin. "Rise and shine, beautiful."

"Fuck you, Rogers," Bucky grumbled in defeat, letting himself fall back onto the mattress. "Was the ice water necessary?" he asked, annoyed.

"I called your name five times," Steve defended. "You shouldn't have gotten piss drunk if waking up in the morning was going to be a problem."

Bucky rolled his eyes, then rolled out of bed, discarding his wet shirt for a dry one. He immediately stumbled to the kitchen and dry swallowed a couple of ibuprofen, groaning when his head pounded in response. "Shit. My head."

"I did warn you. If you remember." Steve handed Bucky a glass of cold water, which he promptly gulped down. "Sometime before your ninth or tenth shot."

"Can a man not enjoy his bachelor party without getting shit in return?!" Bucky snapped irritably. Images from last night bombarded him, flashes of light and colour, sweaty skin against his own, and wandering hands over his muscles—A flash of blonde hair and red lips. His head pounded to the beat of the bass, mimicking whatever sound must have been playing at the club.

"Geez. You need to get laid." Steve laughed when Bucky shot him a glare. A lesser man would have cowered under that look, but Steve knew his friend would never hurt him. They shared a bond stronger than family.

"I would never," Bucky sternly reminded his friend. Despite all his flaws and shortcomings, the mafia man was proud to say he was a faithful lover. He would never disrespect his fiancé by cheating on her, even if he had yet to meet the girl.

"How long has it been since you..." Steve let his words trail off, but the question was obvious.

Bucky started a pot of coffee, taking out two mugs. "Too long," he scoffed, leaning back against the counter. He crossed his arms and glared at the ceiling. "Since that thing with Rollins a month ago."

Tensions had been high among the men since that day, and Bucky started spending more time in his office than in his bed. There was no time between all the chaos for Bucky to take a girl to bed. There was always someone that needed to be dealt with, always a problem that needed solving. Then, news of his engagement made local headlines. Bucky definitely couldn't take a girl to bed after that.

"Yeah," Steve murmured, "that whole thing was a shit show."

Bucky rolled his shoulders and cracked his neck. "Can't wait till that bastard is rotting six feet under." He reached behind him and poured the finished coffee for himself and Steve.

Steve grabbed the small jar of sugar from the counter, then reached for a spoon. Bucky was quick. He slammed the half-open drawer shut and plucked a clean spoon from the sink. Steve almost saw the device he hid there. Bucky would need to be more careful.

"Take this instead," he offered. Bucky didn't bother with an explanation. Nothing he could say would convince Steve.

Steve paused a beat before relenting. He knew his friend was hiding something; he also knew he would find out sooner than later what it was.

"Milk?" Bucky asked though he knew the answer.

"Just a little." Steve made his coffee just how he liked it and set it on the table. "Hey, at least you'll be getting some tonight." And they had moved on.

"Tonight?" Bucky questioned, taking a sip of his Italian Roast. Black, just the way he liked it. Then it hit him. Yeah, he was definitely getting some. He chuckled and shook his head. "Doubt she'll let me try anything the second we meet. I'll probably have to wait for the honeymoon."

"Yeah?" Steve smirked. "When's that?"

"The sixth. It's a Sunday. Three days after the reception." Yes, it was quick and hasty, but Danial Burgundy insisted, and his own father was no help. "Just hurry up and pop out a couple of children, why don't you?" Danial Burgundy and the older Barnes had laughed, but Bucky didn't find the idea as amusing. While he respected Danial, he was in no position to tell Bucky what to do.

Bucky ran a hand over his face and scoffed. "The fucking reception. Don't know how I'll survive it." The last thing he wanted was to be paraded around his father's friends like some zoo animal.

You only get married once, Buck. "You could try to look forward to it," Steve reprimanded. Between the two friends, he was mostly the more level-headed one.

"I am looking forward to it," Bucky smirked, wiggling his brows for effect. "A lot."

Steve frowned as if Bucky had personally offended him. "I'm not talking about the honeymoon, punk. Have some respect for the missus."

Bucky only smiled wider. "You haven't seen her yet, have you?"

"No, but you haven't either," Steve pointed out.

Bucky just shrugged with a smug grin as if he knew something Steve didn't.

"No." Steve's eyes widened. "You fucker. When?"

Bucky mimicked zipping his lips shut. "A magician never reveals his secrets."

"Fuck that. I thought your dad forbade you."

Bucky shrugged again.

"When?" Steve demanded.

"Exactly a week ago. I had some business with Danial, and I just happened to see little Burgundy walk out of his office in a tiny two-piece."

"Well, shit!"

Bucky smirked wider. He pushed off the wall he was leaning against and went to his room to grab the black manilla folder containing his fiancé's information.

He returned to find Steve sitting in the breakfast nook, polishing an apple against his shirt. "Here." Bucky tossed the manilla toward his friend, who promptly flicked through it.

"Woah!" Steve's eyes grew wide. "She's pretty."

"She's fucking gorgeous," Bucky smugly agreed.

"Can't believe she's a Burgundy," Steve expressed, eyes flicking over the girl's picture.

Bucky hummed in agreement. There she was, Bucky's fiancé, his wife-to-be, wearing a sensible pair of pants with a loosely fitted henley. Nothing special. It was her smile, all soft and inviting, that made her irresistible. He desperately wanted the girl's attention directed at him instead of the nondescript book in her hand. Bucky wanted to see her smile in the sunlight instead of through a thin piece of paper; he wanted a taste to see if she was as sweet as she looked. He wanted her swollen lips wrapped around his—

"She's got nice eyes."

Bucky scratched the back of his neck. He really needed to get laid. "Uh, yeah, she does. By the way, what would Sharon say about you admiring my girl?" Bucky teased.

Steve went deathly still before the corners of his mouth lifted in an arrogant smirk. "You wouldn't fucking dare, asshole. I'd cut your tongue out."

Bucky burst into a fit of laughter. "You get real fucking scary when it comes to your wife."

Steve merely smiled.

The shrill ringing of Bucky's phone interrupted the candid moment between the two friends. Bucky only briefly glanced at the caller ID before his smile dropped and his expression hardened.

"This is Barnes," he answered gruffly.

Even Steve Rogers straightened his shoulders at Bucky's tone. It was bewildering how quickly Bucky could go from a carefree young man to a hardened crime boss.

"Who?" Bucky seethed in response to the person on the other line. "Motherfucker!" He slammed the table with his palm and swallowed thickly, attempting to control his reaction. "When?"

Bucky swore again at the answer. "If you let him out of your fucking sight for even a second, Razor, I'll gut you and feed you to the fish. Understood?" he snapped, ending the call once Razor voiced agreement.

"What happened?" Steve broke the silence after a brief moment of pause. He knew the call meant nothing good but wanted to hear it himself.

"I have to go," Bucky offered as a response. He took long strides towards his room, hastily changing out of his nightclothes and into a clean suit. Bucky didn't bother with a tie. He would have to take it off anyway.

He retrieved his Colt 1911 from his dresser, along with his rings. The Colt belonged to his father, who gave it to Bucky on his eighteenth birthday. And the ring...? There was something to be said about the surprise on his enemy's face when a mediocre punch opened their skin, letting blood flow everywhere—Not that Bucky ever threw mediocre punches. After all, he was trained in martial arts from a young age.

Steve walked in when Bucky was tucking his gun in the waistband of his trousers. "What happened?" he asked once more.

"Rollins happened."

"Good or bad?"

"Both," Bucky replied. "Three of my men are dead."

"Okay," Steve raised an eyebrow. "That's bad."

"We have the guy who did it," Bucky finished.

"Rollins?"

Bucky shook his head. "One of his rat bastards."

"That's still good, right?" Steve asked, confused why Bucky was so upset about the win.

Bucky's voice lowered in a mix of empathy and regret. "Phil's gone."

Steve plopped himself down onto Bucky's bed. "How?"

"Knife through the chest."

Steve clutched his hair with white knuckles and groaned lowly. "Those fuckers."

Ever since the two mobsters met Phil four years ago, he became a brother to them. And while he worked for the Barnes Mafia, he was also loyal to the Rogers'.

Steve composed himself and stood on shaky legs. "I'm coming with you," he announced, determined in his efforts.

"No, you're not," Bucky scoffed, putting on a pair of loafers.

"You can't stop me," Steve warned. "I won't let those bastards get away with this!"

"And you think I will?" Bucky suddenly exploded, losing the last of his temper. He was just as upset as Steve over their friend's death. Bucky grabbed Steve by the shoulders and pulled him close. "I'll make every last one of them pay. I swear to you, Stevie, those motherfuckers will get what they deserve. But I need you here."

Steve opened his mouth to argue, but Bucky interrupted him.

"Someone needs to plan the funeral. Phil deserves a proper goodbye."

Steve let his shoulders slump in defeat. He knew Bucky was right, yet he tried to convince him again. "You've got a wedding to attend in a few hours."

Bucky playfully shoved his friend away. "And who can guarantee the groom is punctual, if not the best man?"

"Yeah," Steve finally relaxed, though Phil's death was still fresh on his mind. An unfortunate consequence of their lifestyle. "You know I've got your back, punk."

"Asshole," Bucky returned without hesitation.

"Pussy."

"Bitch."

"Son of a bitch."

"Hey!" Bucky exploded, wagging an accusatory finger. "Don't bring my ma into this."

"Speaking of your ma," Steve continued smoothly, "she is going to be pissed as fuck if you get blood in your nails."

Bucky shrugged, grabbing his keys from the dresser. "I won't. I promise. I've got men for that."

There was blood everywhere, not that he could be bothered by it. One look at the man tied to the chair in front of him made Bucky forget his promise to Steve. His hands were bloodied in seconds.

Razor left a while ago, opting to give his boss some privacy. Since then, the dark basement had been filled with small whimpers and muffled screams. Bucky was unsatisfied. He swung his arm in a swift right hook and laughed when he received only a minuscule groan as a reaction. "You're no fun," Bucky teased. He reached for his gun, smiling as the man struggled against his restraints. "Scared?" Bucky mocked. "You shouldn't be."

Bucky placed his gun on the small table to his left, waiting for the man to relax before bending down and retrieving a knife from his ankle. It was long and slender—sturdy in his hands, and perfect for carving.

"I hear you like knives." Bucky smirked at the look of horror that crossed the man's face. "I don't see the appeal, personally. There're guns, swift and clean—kind of loud, but they don't leave a huge mess. You want to be discreet? Poison works wonders. You don't know you're dying until you're dead. But knives? They just seem excessively messy."

The man in the chair stiffened.

"I wonder what all the fuss is about," Bucky mused, running a finger along the sharp blade. He sucked his bottom lip in contemplation, releasing it with a pop. "Why don't I find out?" And Bucky brought the weapon down on the man's leg, smiling when the scream he was looking for finally reached his ears.

He quickly retrieved the blade, slamming it into its new home in the man's other leg. There was nothing to be done about the blood. Bucky would no doubt receive a swift tongue lashing from his mother about it, but he could still fulfill his other promise to Steve.

Bucky would make every last one of them pay, starting with the rat bastard in front of him.

May 3rd, 2018

She woke to the sweet smell of maple. A smile immediately graced her sleepy face, and she stretched her arms above her head, contorting her body to eliminate any aches or soreness from the night before. A joint cracked, maybe two, and she sighed in relief.

The girl could smell maple and... cinnamon, was it? The aroma permeated the room, making her sink deeper into the soft mattress. Indistinctly, a soft melodic voice reached her ears.

"What language is that?" she wondered.

Fleur almost dropped the tray of food she was holding. Her wide eyes narrowed in a faux glare. "You scared me."

"It's not french," the girl observed. She tried to remember the words in her dazed state. "Sounds slavic.ˈDrage wo t͡sto ˈmisliɫəm? Sokovian, maybe."

Fleur placed the tray on the edge of the bed with unnecessary force. "It was nothing. Here."

The girl let out a small yawn and raised herself on her elbows. "It sounded beautiful." She gave Fleur her version of what she hoped was a genuine smile. "I had a Sokovian friend in school."

"You talk too much," Fleur chastised. "Eat."

"Wait!" The girl urgently grabbed Fleur to stop her from leaving. "Eat with me."

"No." Fleur pulled her arm away. "I have a lot to do. I have to pack a bag for you, and—"

"Please? I don't want anything to go to waste." Her eyes were wild with need, and Fleur must have seen the despair swirling behind the girl's bright irises because she relented.

The two sat side by side and drank from the same cup of hot chocolate. The girl ate a piece of fruit and soaked some of the bread in the hot chocolate, at which Fleur raised a perfectly arched brow.

"Your hair looks almost red in the sun."

Fleur touched her head. "No, it doesn't," she replied fiercely. "It's blonde. Have you ever seen a red-haired french person before?"

"Izgleda da ne." I guess not, the girl murmured in Sokovian.

"You have an affinity for languages or something?" Fleur asked casually.

"Or something," the girl answered. "I mentioned my friend. I learned french from him, some Sokovian too. Also, I wanted to travel the world for Investigative Journalism. It made sense to learn more languages." She shrugged a shoulder. "What a waste."

"Not completely. You could continue after your marriage."

"Not likely."

The two ate in relative silence, taking much longer than needed to finish a simple meal, and bartered meaninglessly until the last crumb was wiped clean. And even then did not move, satisfied for a time with being in each other's company.

May 3rd, 2018

She thought she knew privilege—had seen the dirty reality of it beneath the many layers—but she was merely ignorant of its candidness. The wealth she found herself surrounded by was incomparable to the previous advantages granted to her for being a Burgundy.

The girl stumbled upon exiting the private elevator, surprised to find herself in a foyer. Then she noticed the view, and her legs almost gave out. She should have expected this would be no ordinary hotel—but perhaps her expectations were askew if she presumed to find herself in a small one-bedroom, much like what she lived in when she left home.

The girl looked down and saw her reflection staring back at her in the marble. The place was so big she was worried she would get lost. The attendant's voice went through one ear and out the other. The girl only managed to catch a few details. Two floors, five-bed, six-bath, a lounge and a private terrace, among other things. She wondered how much it cost.

She must have voiced her previous thought because the attendant smiled brightly. "Seventy-five per night."

She gasped in surprise. "Seventy-five hundred?" She couldn't imagine anyone spending that much money on a single hotel room.

The attendant frowned, clearly offended. "No. It's seventy-five thousand per night. Your fiancé booked the penthouse for three nights; the entire hotel for two."

The girl choked on air. She knew James Barnes was wealthy, but she never imagined this. "The entire hotel?" Exactly how many people were coming to the wedding?

"Yes, ma'am. Your entire wedding party is staying with us. And your bridesmaids will stay at the penthouse while you are on your honeymoon."

The girl felt sick. Positively and irrevocably. First, the shock of finding out how wealthy her fiancé was, then to hear him referred to as hers. Her fiancé. Her wedding. Her bridesmaids. Her honeymoon.

"I assumed Mr. Barnes would have told you," the attendant continued, mildly concealed suspicion lacing her voice.

Vaguely, the girl was aware a question had been asked and that she should answer said question, but a sudden dizziness overtook her. She stared at a small smudge on the mirror to her left—a lone imperfection amongst an otherwise spotless surface—and focused on breathing through her nose and out of her mouth.

Fleur placed a cold hand on the girl's back when she remained unresponsive. "Miss Burgundy?"

The girl blinked and refocused her attention. "I'm alright," she said. "Just a bit dizzy. I think I should sit down."

The attendant's eyes instinctively trailed down the girl's abdomen. "Would you like some water... or some champagne, perhaps?"

"Neither," the girl replied with a forced smile. "Thank you for the tour, but I'll rest for a bit.." The tour was nowhere near finished; it had hardly begun, but the dismissal was palpable.

"Of course," the attendant said with a polite nod. "I hope you enjoy your stay and feel better before your wedding." She stared at the girl's stomach as she left the room, almost bumping into the two guards at the door.

"Is that the bride?"

A large group of girls immediately bombarded her when she entered the main lounge. They wore identical robes, with the hotel logo embroidered on the sleeves, and sipped on flutes of champagne; her bridesmaids.

It quickly became clear there were two kinds of girls in the room. The first kind surrounded her with overly fake smiles and gave her compliments they didn't mean.

"Oh! Where did you get those shoes? They're so cute," said a tall redhead. They were second-hand from a thrift shop and were not cute.

The second kind, scattered varyingly across the space, visually sized her up. Their judgemental eyes scanned the girl head to toe, taking in her frayed jeans and scuffed shoes. Her messy hair, dry lips, and red eyes. Their stares lingered on her chest and bottom—on her waist—as if she were merely an object for them to criticize. It was clear they saw nothing of interest when they quickly dismissed her and continued their hushed conversations.

Two blondes of the second kind made their way over to the girl, pulling her down to sit with them. She shook their offered hands, hoping they couldn't feel the sweat lining her palms.

"You are one lucky bitch to be marrying James Barnes," said a bottle blonde with overly filled lips painted a bright pink. She stunk of Chanel. "I didn't know he had a girlfriend until I got the wedding invite."

Heat rose to the girl's face. She gave the two a rehearsed answer. "Oh. We didn't want the relationship to be public. James likes his privacy."

The taller blonde thrust a flute of champagne into the girl's hand before sipping on her own. She was perfectly tall, with legs that went on for days. Green eyes framed with long lashes. She lightly ran the pad of her thumb along a bright red lip. "Bucky does like his privacy, doesn't he?" she mused. "I would know," she shrugged a delicate shoulder, "from experience."

"Bucky?" the girl questioned.

"James. His close friends call him Bucky."

"Oh..." That felt like something she should have known. "Right. Of course," she laughed nervously. "Sorry, I didn't get much sleep last night."

The blonde hummed in consideration. "Yes, I can see that."

The girl blinked. Someone behind her snickered.

"Oh, what was your name?" the blonde continued. "It completely slipped my mind."

The girl took a large sip of her drink before answering.

"How cute. My name's Dorothy." She reached over to bop the girl's nose. "You can call me Dot. Everyone does. This is Chanel."

The girl gave Dot a shaky smile. "It's nice to meet you, Dot." It wasn't. It really wasn't. She then turned to Chanel, praying she could keep a straight face. "And you."

"I'm surprised you didn't have a bachelor party," said Chanel. "Bucky sure went all out."

"Yes," Dot agreed. "Why didn't you?"

The girl stuttered around a response. "James—I don't—I didn't feel like it."

"Well, he missed you."

"Who did?" The girl asked incredulously.

"Bucky, who else?" Dot raised a brow. "I had to stay with him all night to make sure he wouldn't call or try to see you." She twirled a strand of hair with her finger. "It's bad luck to see each other before the wedding."

The girl didn't know what to say, so she settled for something generic. "Oh. I missed him too." It seemed her betrothed held no similar qualms about the marriage if he felt happy enough to party.

"Show us the ring!" Chanel suddenly demanded.

The bride-to-be presented her left hand to the room, prompting the ladies to huddle closer. "How cute." Dot turned to Chanel. "Isn't it just like the one James gave me on my birthday?"

Chanel nodded eagerly. "Except yours is bigger, I think."

Dot hummed in agreement. "Heavier too. Oh, but yours is so much cuter! Suits your personality perfectly."

What would this stranger know about her personality? The girl wondered if this was how mundane people made friends—sizing the competition with backhanded compliments to see who broke first. She glanced around the room. No one here was normal, least of all her.

"Thank you." She wanted to cry.

"So, Mrs. Barnes, do tell us. How did you and James meet?" someone asked.

"She's not Mrs. Barnes yet, dear," Dot quickly corrected, managing to sound both sarcastic and snobbish.

The girl laughed uncomfortably, plastering the biggest smile she could muster. "No, I still have a few hours before that happens.

Dot hummed. "Regardless, I would love to know the story. Bucky has been so uncharacteristically tight-lipped about you. He usually tells me everything."

Panic took over, and the girl looked at Fleur for guidance—They hadn't practiced this—only to find Fleur glaring somewhat discreetly at Dot. "We, uh—Our families knew each other!" the girl hastily answered. "There was a dinner. One thing led to another, and here we are—"

"Excuse me, do I know you?"

Confused, the girl froze at Dot's jarring question, only to find the blonde's attention on her maid.

Fleur schooled her expression into a passive one. "I doubt it, miss." Her accent was more pronounced than ever, surprising the girl who thought Fleur was improving.

Dot narrowed her eyes, briefly dropping her jolly and quick-witted persona. "No, I've definitely seen you before."

"Fleur's been working for my father for a while," the girl supplied. "Maybe you—"

"Have you visited the Burgundy estate lately, Miss Dorothy? I believe Mr. Burgundy invited your father for a friendly game of blackjack last month. Perhaps you tagged along?"

"I don't recall," Dot sneered.

The girl watched in confusion as the atmosphere changed.

"Oh!" Fleur covered her gasp with both hands. "How thoughtless of me. Mr. Allen couldn't have possibly visited when he was in prison for—"

"Stop right there!" Dot hissed, and though her voice was soft, the warning was sharp. However, the damage was done, and the room exploded with gasps of shock.

Even the girl couldn't hide her surprise at Fleur's abrupt change in behaviour, then at the company.

"When did your father go to jail, Dorothy? Why am I just hearing about this?"

Fleur quietly excused herself during the chaos.

"It was a misunderstanding," Dot explained, swiftly slipping into a calm disposition. "The matter resolved itself in a day." She turned her sharp eyes toward the girl, who straightened at the attention. Dot sighed, letting her shoulders droop. "Your mother was a great help to mine. How sad she couldn't be here today."

The room fell silent. The girl wasn't aware their mothers knew each other. What excuse was she supposed to give? She decided to go for the truth. "Yes, it is," she agreed with a sad smile.

Dot narrowed her eyes. She seemed displeased. "You're a strong person. I would burst into tears if I were in your position, God forbid."

"Yes, well, what can we do? Life goes on." The ladies began to chat among themselves as the previous tension slowly dissipated.

Dot's concealed scoff did not miss the girl's ears. "How optimistic of you."

The girl jumped at the lull in conversation after a moment. "I think I should change," she announced, stretching her legs. "And maybe take a shower." No one seemed to pay her any attention. "Right. I guess I'll be going then."

The girl turned to leave, but Dot stopped her with her arm. "Before you go, I just wanted to tell you how nice it is to meet you."

"It's nice to meet you too." It wasn't. It really wasn't, but the girl could help but be polite.

"We'll be seeing a lot of each other now," Dot said in a honeyed voice. "I can't wait for you to be part of the family."

Part of the family? What? "I'm sorry, but how do you know James?"

Dot put a hand over her chest. "How do I know him? You mean he hasn't told you about me?"

"No, he hasn't." The girl swallowed nervously. "Are you his sister?"

Dot threw her head back and laughed. "Am I his—Oh! I'm going to have a word with him after this. I can't believe he hasn't told you."

The girl couldn't help but feel like the butt end of a joke, with no choice but to play along. "Hasn't told me what?"

Dot stepped towards the girl and bit her lip as she leaned forward. "Me and James... well, let's just say we're very good friends."

"Oh." Dot's underlying meaning was clear.

What else could she say? Everyone held an advantage over her. They grew up surrounded by the mafia while she left. They knew all the particular goings-on of the organization, and she didn't. And now this gorgeous blonde was passive-aggressively staking some type of claim over James Barnes. Who she affectionately called Bucky.

"Okay."

Dot curled her lips into a smile as if to say, "checkmate," and took the girl's hand in a tight grip. "Again, welcome to the family, dear. You have no idea how excited I am."

It started slowly, a tingle in her spine, crawling up her shoulders and towards her neck. The feeling of someone watching her. She surveyed her surroundings, once, then twice, then seemingly happy with the absence of another soul, turned back towards the pool.

It had taken just one look at the girl's tear-ridden face for Fleur to deduce what was wrong.

"They're jealous." Fleur was wearing a neat braid. Her roots were a reddish blonde.

"Jealous?" the girl had scoffed, forgetting about her friend's unusual hair colour.

"Your husband is quite popular, especially among the younger ladies."

"He's not my husband," she snapped in frustration.

"Apologies." Though Fleur did not sound apologetic at all. "They're not happy you're marrying him."

"Least of all me! How am I supposed to convince everyone of this marriage, Fleur? I know nothing about him. I don't even know what he looks like!"

"Mr. Burgundy didn't let you two meet?"

"James Barnes is a busy man. He has an entire city to run." The girl repeated what her father told her, then aggressively shook her head. "I refused a picture. I don't think I could have survived the week if my nightmares had a face."

"All that from a single photograph? I hear he's a handsome man."

"The eyes are the windows to the soul, aren't they? After my brother died, my father changed and became cruel. His eyes used to be full of life, but they turned dull." The girl looked down at the floor, remembering how strict and uncaring her father became after losing his child.

Fleur thought for a moment. "I know you don't feel it, chérie, but you hold a lot of power."

The girl wanted to cry. "I don't feel powerful." She felt weak and helpless.

Fleur grabbed her hand. "Behind every successful man is a woman. Remember this. I helped my husband expand his practice. Without me, he never would've gotten to where he is."

The girl couldn't help the pity she felt. "And yet he still—"

"Yes, I got too comfortable. Never let your guard down, or the next thing you know—"

God, was that what would happen to her? Would she be swept away under all the lies and betrayals that seemed to follow the mafia everywhere?

Fleur seemed to be able to read the girl's mind. "I will not let that happen to you!" she promised passionately. "You are lucky the wedding is so public. Your husband will not risk losing you." She paused. "Or hurting you."

The girl deeply exhaled. The severity of her situation was voiced for the first time, leaving a weight on her shoulders.

"How can I help?" Fleur asked softly.

"I want to swim." The girl didn't bother correcting herself. "Alone."

It hadn't taken Fleur long to orchestrate the entire thing. A thinly veiled threat to the guards posted outside—something along the lines of castration—and the girl found herself in an empty natatorium.

The girl didn't know how to swim, though she didn't need to. She only needed to submerge herself long enough to forget what she had to do in a few hours.

Vow her life away to a monster. James Barnes.

She took the steps one at a time, becoming comfortable as the cool water slowly obscured her bikini-clad body. The pool was not too deep where she stood, only reaching her elbows, so she walked farther until it reached her chin.

The girl closed her eyes. A deep breath in, out, and another in before she bent her legs and lowered her body.

The effect was immediate. The world quieted down to silence, took all the girl's worries and anxieties, all past, present, and future troubles and dispersed them across the water's surface to be collected once she emerged.

The girl didn't want them back. She didn't want to live in constant fear, always wondering when the next shoe would drop. If she straightened her knees and took her head out of the water to breathe, she would need to wear her wedding dress, walk down the aisle, and marry a monster. However, if she stayed, with her legs bent and floating aimlessly—with her breath stuck in her lungs and her body pliant in the water, she would be free of all her troubles.

Her eyes slowly fluttered open. She saw the ceiling above her through a distorted lens, her hands and legs floating aimlessly around her. Air bubbles left her nose and breached the surface, which seemed to move farther and farther away as time passed. Her hair created a beautiful halo around her head, and she sighed, expelling the last of air from her lungs.

As she let herself float away, deeper and deeper into the calm abyss, she thought, with sudden clarity, that she would love to spend the rest of her days here. No thoughts or feelings, only a calm that she could not reach any other way. A place where she was everything and nothing, all at the same time.

The girl shut her eyes, letting the comforting pressure of water surround her from all sides. Yes, she would love to spend the rest of her days here.

The effect was immediate. The world boomed with noise, took all the girl's worries and anxieties, all past, present, and future troubles and accumulated them across the water, which was then promptly collected the second she emerged.

The girl gasped, sputtered, and choked. It felt as if the arm around her abdomen had picked her up and slammed her onto concrete. The loss made her cry. She sobbed as she attempted to loosen the arms around her, to dive back into the serene calmness she was just feeling mere moments ago.

"No!" she cried out. "Let me go!"

The arm tightened painfully. "What the hell?"

The girl froze. She recognized that voice. She turned so abruptly her hair whipped the man across his face, making him flinch.

"Peter?"

"You were gonna drown!" Peter berated her. "Do you want to die?" He wore a dress shirt and dark grey slacks, the fanciest the girl had seen him in.

"No. I don't want to die. I just..." The girl moved a strand of wet hair from his eyes. "What are you doing here?"

Peter ignored her question and carried her out of the pool, setting her carefully on a lounge chair nearby. "What the fuck were you thinking?" he asked forcefully.

The girl suddenly felt very exposed to the cool air. She grabbed a nearby towel to cover her nakedness. "I wasn't," she replied. "I wasn't thinking."

"That doesn't sound like you," he observed, sitting beside her.

"Why are you here?" she asked once more.

Peter sighed and ran his hands over his face, wiping the excess water. He would have to change his clothes and find new shoes. The leather was sure to be damaged beyond repair.

"I heard some guys in the lobby talking about how the bride was taking a swim. I came in to say hi, and almost witnessed you kill yourself."

The girl wasn't trying to kill herself, though she decided not to correct him. "What are you doing in New York?" she clarified. "In this hotel?"

Peter scoffed, leaning forward to grab his dry suit jacket. "Did you hit your stupid head while you were down there?" He shoved a thick envelope toward her. "You invited me."

In her hands was a wedding invite. Gold and pink lines on matte black card stock. "The Barnes and Burgundy family cordially invite you to witness the holy matrimony of James Buchanan Barnes and—" In her hands was her wedding invite.

Dread settled low in the girl's stomach. The last she'd seen Peter, Campus security was escorting him out of the DKE party. That was also the last time she saw Dove. The girl wanted to ask about her friend. Was she okay? Was she eating well? How upset was she when the girl left without a goodbye?

"You need to leave," she declared.

"Oh, uh, okay." Peter rose to grab his discarded jacket and the wedding invite. "I'm in room 315. I'll see you at the church, yeah?"

"No. You need to leave the city." The girl rose to her feet as panic began to take over. "Now!" she exploded when he didn't move fast enough for her liking.

"Jesus!" Peter did not let the girl push him toward the exit. He grabbed her shoulders and shook her. "What are you talking about?"

She was hysterical, trying her best to keep her tears at bay, a complete one-eighty compared to a moment ago. "It's dangerous for you to be here. Catch the first flight back to Vancouver and go home!"

But Peter wouldn't listen. He wrapped the slipping towel tighter around the girl's shoulders and forced her to look at him. "Is this those wedding jitters I've heard about? because you're not making any sense. My life isn't in danger."

His calm and placating voice annoyed her. As always, Peter thought he knew better when he didn't. Her father obviously invited him here as a power move to show her his control over her life. One wrong move and Peter would suffer the consequences, along with Dove.

She pushed his hand away and grabbed his wet shirt. "You don't understand. You need to go to Dove. How was she when you left her? Is she hurt?"

Peter frowned. "Dove's alright. She misses you 'cause you left out of nowhere, but she's actually he—Wait. Why would she be hurt?"

The girl let out the breath she had been holding. "So, she's fine?"

Peter grabbed her wrists to loosen her hold on him, which was becoming tighter. "Yeah, What the hell? What aren't you telling me, Kitty? Why would Dove be hurt?"

The girl's face contorted in sorrow. She contemplated coming clean to her friend, telling him everything that had transpired since that fateful night in Vancouver. "Peter," she sighed, slowly losing her resolve. Perhaps he would listen if he knew what was at stake. "My father is—"

"I must say," a loud voice interrupted the two, "when my men told me my daughter went for a swim, I was surprised. Especially considering I didn't know you could swim."

Both of them froze. Peter tensed his shoulders and sighed deeply, letting his eyes close. "Kitty."

"Run," she whispered pleadingly. "There's still time."

"I'm sorry." Guilt swirled in Peter's eyes when opened them. He looked dejected.

The girl snatched her wrists from his hold. "It's okay. Just let me do the talking."

Peter shook his head. "Not about that." And he took a step toward her father.

What? she wanted to ask, but the question answered itself.

"Thank you for keeping an eye on her, Pietro. She clearly can't be left alone." Danial let his gaze wander all over Peter's wet clothes.

"Pietro?" the girl found herself wondering aloud.

Her father looked confused for a moment before bursting into laughter. He wrapped an arm around Peter's shoulder as if they were friends. "I forgot. You might know him as Peter, your schoolmate."

The girl turned to her friend, waiting for him to deny it.

Peter bowed his head, unwilling to meet her gaze. "Pietro Maximoff, Miss. At your service."

"No," the girl denied. "There must be some misunderstanding."

"There isn't," Peter—no, Pietro answered. "It's nice to meet you formally."

Her father seemed pleased. "Good job, Pietro. You can go. I'll call you if I need anything."

Pietro left without sparing her a glance.

It was like the entire world slowed. Voices muted, and a ringing overtook all her senses.

"You best be on your way," her father said.

"Why?"

He felt far away when he spoke. "You have a wedding to attend. That's why."

He misunderstood. "Why him?"

In the past week, the girl's world had flipped so many times she couldn't tell up from down anymore. Fear and anxiety were her best friend during this troubling time, and she thought nothing could surprise her. She was wrong.

She remembered meeting Peter—Pietro—for the first time. He was adamant about being her friend, waiting outside her classes with a coffee one day and iced tea another. The girl always figured he was friendly because she was Dove's best friend. She never suspected any foul play.

A horrible thought struck her. How would Dove react once she knew the man she loved deceived her? Another thought. Did she already know? A double deception was sure to kill the girl.

Did the girl's father control everything in her life? Had he known this entire time what she was doing? He must have. Pietro would have told him everything. He would have indulged her father with her most intimate thoughts and feelings. That betrayal somehow felt much worse than Pietro lying about who he was.

That is when the numbness started. The girl was tired. Tired of feeling, hoping for a reprieve, and constantly being let down. Tired of fearing for her friend's life.

When her father gestured for two of his men to grab the girl, she did not react or fight back. She only tightened the small towel around her shoulders. They dragged her out with ease, following her father, stopping when he stopped, moving when he moved.

When she passed the concierge, the staff averted their eyes, unwilling to even risk looking in her direction. Still, the girl felt a pair of eyes follow her. She turned her head only to find a man staring at her.

There was a prominent frown on his face as he ran his gaze over her exposed legs and up her torso. While the girl usually felt repulsed while being leered at by random men, the stranger's eyes did not make her uncomfortable. Something about him felt oddly familiar. He was beautiful, with soft hair cut short on the sides, and was wearing a dress shirt with slacks, similar to Pietro's. His eyes were a startling azure.

Try as she might, the girl couldn't shake the feeling that she had seen the man before. Despite the distance between them, she noticed a muscle in his jaw tick in annoyance upon seeing her face.

He parted his pink lips then, to say something, though she didn't hear what. Her father frustratedly rubbed his eyes and replied to the man, walking over to greet him. The two shook hands, and Danial gestured for the guards to take her away.

The girl stayed passive the entire time, only pulling the towel over her chest to try and erase the stranger's stare from her body. They dragged her across the lobby and towards the elevators. There was no stopping it now. A wedding awaited her.

Her bridesmaids' chatter quieted to a dull throb, deadening completely the longer the girl ignored them. They were snacking on fruit and sipping champagne while a photographer captured the exaggerated moment. Smiles too big and poses too disingenuous.

In comparison, the girl sat blank-faced. No smile. No disingenuous pose. No falsities or pretenses. One couldn't tell her dress was a few sizes too small, preventing her from breathing. Or that underneath the layers of concealer, her eyes were dark enough to be mistaken for bruises, and her elaborately made hair housed the beginning of what was turning out to be a massive headache.

Yes, it was odd that the bride-to-be was not trembling with excitement, but that could be a consequence of nerves. Her lack of response, however, was starting to become concerning.

"What do you think?" the hairdresser asked for the third time. He finished the final touches. A brooch here, a sprinkle of glitter there.

The girl barely glanced at her reflection. "It's nice," she murmured, then tuned out the rest of the conversation.

A young woman refreshed the colour on her lips with a small brush before blotting it with a tissue. "I've never had such an obedient bride before," she laughed. "You're as still as a mannequin."

The girl gave no reaction. She briefly heard the pair acknowledge her inattentiveness, speculating in hushed whispers why she wasn't happier. She felt disinclined to indulge them.

She was tired.

She didn't know when, but the room cleared out, and still, she was sitting in front of the vanity, staring at a fixed spot in the mirror.

From her peripheral, the girl saw her father enter behind her. Danial was dressed in his most expensive suit and held a folder in his right hand, which he placed on the vanity. Still, she sat unmoving.

"Everyone is already on their way to the church," he told her. "I sent Fleur with your bridesmaids." He paused, waiting for his daughter to say something, but she didn't. Danial cleared his throat. "I wanted to give you your wedding present right now. I know there's time set apart for later, but I thought you'd appreciate doing this privately."

At this, the girl did react. She found her father's eyes in the mirror and looked down at the folder in question.

"Open it," Danial urged. And so she did.

The girl took in the contents of the folder passively, emotionlessly. I, Danial Burgundy, being of sound mind and body, do hereby declare the following—

"I suppose congratulations are in order." Danial placed a hand on his daughter's shoulder. "You will become the new and sole owner of the Burgundy estate once the marriage is finalized."

Now, this did get a reaction from the girl. She shot up from her seat, making Danial's hand fall to his side. "You're trying to buy my silence? You think this will erase what you're making me do?" The girl made her way to the door, holding the will in a white-knuckled grip. She couldn't sit there and be reminded of how badly she lost.

"I told you before," Danial's voice reverberated through the room, "and I'll tell you again. This will all make sense soon, then you'll thank me. There's a reason I'm doing this. A good reason."

The girl looked at her father, at his determined face and stiff posture. No, she decided, there can be no justifiable reason for what he is doing. Nothing she could ever understand or forgive.

"We're late, Father," the girl said; and with that, she turned around and left. There was a wedding to attend.

Note: Thoughts? How are we feeling so far?

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