#holiday drama

[blueikky]

Christmas Farce

Summary: Camila can’t stand spending Christmas alone anymore. That’s when Matt comes up with a bold idea—he suggests that they pretend to be a couple during the holidays. But they soon realize that playing at being boyfriend and girlfriend may reveal much more than they were willing to admit.

Pairing: Matt Smith x fem!Oc

Word Count: 6.2k

Warnings: romance, mild angst, fake dating trope, lighthearted humor, Christmas themes, suggestive language

Chapters: 1/5

A/N: English is not my mother tongue, so there may be mistakes here and there. This is a work of fiction inspired by the persona of Matt. All respect to Matt as an individual is maintained throughout.

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“You can’t be serious,” Camila shot back, her dark eyes filled with suspicion.

There were things that were impossible to explain, and Matt Smith asking her out was one of them.

Nothing in the world could have prepared her for when he called her into the small conference room. His mere presence condensed the air, as if he exerted influence over the universe. It was dizzying.

“You asked Santa Claus for a boyfriend,” he countered, as if it were completely plausible, not allowing her to interrupt. “So why are you rejecting me?”

Oh no, Camila thought, he saw that?!

As if it weren’t embarrassing enough to know a coworker had witnessed her moment of madness, he still had the audacity to offer to fulfill the request she’d declared after a few drinks?

She swallowed hard.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Smith,” Camila couldn’t look him in the eye.

“No?” he questioned, his voice sweet like poison. “Maybe I should remind you of the happy hour we went to last Friday?” When there was no response, he continued: “Where you vomited on my…”

“That was an accident!” she exclaimed, feeling her face flush with embarrassment. “And I already apologized!”

When Camila saw a smile curve his lips, she realized the colossal mistake she had made.

“Oh, it’s great that you remembered, Drumond,” he celebrated, oblivious to the torrent of insults she was mentally directing at him. “Now, do me a favor and explain why you won’t accept me as your boyfriend.”

She sighed, asking herself why the universe chose to punish her like this. Raising her gaze, she was met by his sky-blue irises, placid as the surface of a frozen lake.

“It’s not wise to listen to someone who’s drunk.”

He laughed.

“Darling, everything said while drunk is thought out sober,” he shot back, and Camila found herself on the verge of committing murder.

Ignoring him, she continued,

“We’re not in a romantic comedy, you know? I don’t need to pretend to have a boyfriend at Christmas.”

“So that’s the problem?” his eyes sparkled.

She tilted her head, her brow furrowed in confusion. “How?”

“Is that the problem?” he repeated, as if it would make sense the second time. “Are you afraid it’ll turn into a romantic comedy where one of the parties ends up falling in love?”

If the situation were different, Camila would have laughed until she cried, but now, in this scenario, all she managed was to stammer,

“D-don’t be ridiculous!”

“Right, so that’s not the problem,” he smiled, and Camila realized there was nothing charming about those dimples. “Now, can you tell me why you won’t accept my proposal?” He glanced at his wristwatch. “Unfortunately, I have a meeting scheduled and I’d hate to leave without resolving our issue.”

“Smith…” saying his name had become a personal torture. “We don’t have any issue to resolve.”

“So, will you accept my proposal?”

You arrogant piece of shit!, Camila mentally cursed, regretting that there was no way to sidestep this situation.

Resigned, she leaned back against the furniture, letting out a loud sigh.

“Why do you insist on tormenting me?”

“Drumond, don’t avoid the subject,” he asked, as if he were the victim.

“Why do you want to date me so much?” she was already regretting asking.

“Great question,” he smiled, settling into the chair that now seemed too small for him. “We both stand to benefit from this situation. You’ll have someone to spend Christmas with, and I won’t be bothered by my family for not having a girlfriend. It’s quite simple, don’t you think?”

In a moment of weakness, Camila imagined how nice it would be to have a warm, laughter-filled Christmas again. The idea seduced her more than it should have. That’s what loneliness did to people; it made them foolish.

“Wouldn’t it be easier to find a real girlfriend?” she protested.

Smith made a disdainful expression before saying, “Too much work, and you’d spend another lonely Christmas.”

“I don’t see how that’s any of your business.”

He leaned over the table in an elegant, perhaps even predatory movement, his gaze fixed on her feminine face.

“It’s my duty to look out for the well-being of my coworkers.”

Camila clenched her fists beneath the table, her jaw tight. “Stop messing with me.”

“I’m serious. Look at me.” When she didn’t, he pleaded, his voice filled with kindness. “Please, look at me.”

Still hesitating, she raised her gaze, surprised by the sincerity that overflowed in his eyes.

“My sister recently got married; you have no idea the terror I endure at holiday parties. It seems all my aunts have decided to take it upon themselves to introduce me to every single woman within a ten-mile radius.”

“How you suffer,” she said sarcastically.

“You have no idea how much,” he remained unshaken. “If you accept my proposal, I won’t have to come up with a thousand excuses to avoid dates.”

Camila tried not to show her surprise. Not that she thought Matt Smith was a libertine, but hearing that he made excuses to avoid dates was somewhat shocking. I mean, women falling at his feet wasn’t every man’s dream?

“And you would get the chance to spend Christmas with family. Although we may not have Latin blood like yours, I assure you we know how to have fun as well. And, I’ll owe you a favor—any favor.”

Camila sank into the armchair, running a hand through her dark hair in exasperation.

Damn it.

She was tempted.

It had been just over two years since she was hired by The London Herald, and during that time, she had interacted with Matt Smith only a few times. Not that he was unpleasant; it was just that opportunities hadn’t arisen, and he left her somewhat nervous.

Last Friday, when she was invited to the happy hour at the pub the team usually frequented, Camila wished the ground would open up and swallow her when she vomited on him; that was the most embarrassing moment of her life. In her defense, she hadn’t known she would get so drunk so easily. But he didn’t even raise his voice; he just asked Emma —Camila’s friend— to call a taxi so she could go home.

And he was attractive, very attractive.

Camila remembered blushing when she saw him for the first time.

His angular cheekbones, prominent chin, straight nose, and thin lips formed a unique harmony. His brown hair was thick and silky, and his pale blue eyes were penetrating. Not even all those layers of clothing could hide his strong, solid build.

Camila sighed, shaking her head in denial.

“That makes no sense,” she whispered.

“Explain.”

She looked at him, her brows furrowed. “Why did you choose me?”

Matt seemed confused by the question, quickly retorting, “Why wouldn’t I choose you?”

Camila opened and closed her mouth, but no words found their way out. Okay, she hadn’t been expecting that. Clearing her throat, it took a lot of effort to formulate a coherent sentence.

“Let’s say I accept. Don’t get excited; I haven’t accepted anything. Hypothetically, we would spend Christmas with your family in…”

“Surrey,” he completed.

“In Surrey,” she repeated, her voice squeaky. His family lived in one of the richest counties in England—“But what about after? Would you slander my name so everyone would accept the end of our relationship? Would you say I’m a cruel bitch who betrayed you in the most twisted way possible?”

“What?” he laughed. “Where did you get that?”

“Answer,” she demanded, her cheeks flushed.

To his credit, Matt quickly composed himself, though his lips retained a hint of amusement. “As charming as your suggestion is, I’d prefer to say we had an amicable breakup. I mean, if you accept the proposal.”

Camila twisted her fingers, weighing the pros and cons, so focused that she jumped when he stood up. In a fluid motion, Matt buttoned his blazer, brushing off nonexistent dust from his clothes. He was a perfect example of how the English aristocracy should look.

“Unfortunately, my meeting can’t wait any longer,” he lamented, and was there a plea in his gaze? “Think about it, Drumond; I’ll be waiting for your answer.”

When he reached for the doorknob, it occurred to Camila that she was about to make the most absurd decision of her life.

“Wait!”

He did, turning his back and becoming as still as a marble statue.

She hesitated, her heart pounding so fast it felt like it was punching her ribs, expelling all the air from her lungs. It was as if dozens of butterflies were swirling in her stomach.

“I…,” she swallowed, “I accept.”

Matt turned slowly, looking at her so intensely that Camila felt as if invisible hands were gliding over her body. Heat pooled beneath her skin.

“Excuse me?” he asked, his voice dangerously low.

She took a deep breath, gathering the courage to speak: “I accept your proposal.”

A wide smile slowly spread across his face. As beautiful as it was dangerous.

“Wise decision, darling.”

With the grace of a big cat, Matt approached with long strides, resting one hand on the tabletop as he leaned toward Camila. He was so close that she could feel his breath tickling her face.

Nothing. Camila did absolutely nothing to counter his advance. Her body, that treacherous traitor, simply registered the information that Matt was hot, as if there were liquid fire instead of blood in his veins. And his scent… heavens, it was ridiculously pleasant. And what to say about that magnetism? In her entire life, Camila had never been so aware of another person’s body.

To her horror, a gasp escaped her lips as she felt his touch on her face, lifting it gently until their eyes met. There was amusement there, as if he knew exactly what she was thinking.

Matt moved even closer, and she did the only acceptable thing at that moment: she closed her eyes, delegating to her other senses the task of capturing what would happen next. Their lips found the top of her head in a soft, chaste seal. Too respectful. It wasn’t what she had expected.

“A kiss seems appropriate, doesn’t it?” he whispered, pulling back slightly, his fingers still on her face. “I’ll take you home today, girlfriend.”

*

*

*

After Matt left the room, it took a few minutes for Camila to return to normal. She still felt her face warm, as if his touch had left a trail of fire on her skin.

What was wrong with her?

For a brief moment, Camila imagined he would kiss her. A real kiss, with tongue and everything. She cursed under her breath, her legs moving nervously as she tried to process everything that had happened.

Out of nowhere, her life had taken a 360-degree turn.

And what was she doing? At any moment, someone could walk into the room and find Camila on the verge of a nervous breakdown.

Okay, it was just about maintaining normalcy. A fake relationship, she laughed, no one would believe that.

Determined, she left the room and even managed to smile as she passed a few familiar faces in the hallway. No one at work should know about this. When she finally reached her cubicle, the colorful Post-its, the pink pom-pom pens, and the watermelon candies gave her a false sense of normalcy. She even thought she could keep her mind occupied for the rest of the afternoon.

Sweet illusion.

It was the third time Camila’s eyes returned to the beginning of the release, unable to comprehend any of the words written there. Great, she wouldn’t be able to concentrate. Clare Davis, who sat in the cubicle next door, shot her curious glances. Camila didn’t feel much sympathy for her; the blonde was a bit annoying, full of unwanted advice.

“Are you okay?” she asked.

“Uh-huh, sure.” Camila didn’t pay her any attention, restarting the paragraph once again. “Couldn’t be better. And you?”

“Oh, yes. Are you going to the pub this Friday? This time it’s better to take it easy on the drinks.” Her laughter was an irritating sound. “You know, when I started drinking…”

“Sorry, Ms. Davis, but can we talk later?” It was useless trying to concentrate; with that in mind, Camila stood up again. “I need to take care of something.”

“But you just got back…”

Camila ignored her words, preferring to plot her next move. She took her VISA card from her bag and dashed to the cafeteria next to the office. Desperate situations called for desperate measures. Camila ordered a Choco-Mint Delight and a Raspberry Caramel Latte, with extra whipped cream, along with lemon tarts. When she returned to the building, she headed straight for the human resources department.

Emma quickly noticed her approach, her blue eyes shining when she saw what Camila was carrying.

“Is this for me?” a sparkling smile curved her lips.

“You’re the only person I know who likes chocolate mint.” Camila teased, though her voice had a playful tone.

Camila had met Emma D’Arcy the day she delivered her resume to The London Herald. They quickly became friends, as if they had known each other their whole lives. Camila believed that few people were lucky enough to have a friendship like that.

“Unfortunately, few people have my good taste,” Emma boasted, sighing as she took her first sip of the drink. “Thanks, but you know I hate beating around the bush. Spit it out.”

Camila’s shoulders slumped. It was somewhat irritating that Miss D’Arcy— as she liked to call her friend— knew her so well. To buy some time, she took a long sip of her latte, running her tongue over her lips to clear the whipped cream.

“Can we go to your office?”

Emma whistled, looking genuinely impressed. “Wow, you’re serious. Come on.” She grabbed Camila by the arm, guiding her until they were safe from prying eyes and ears. Emma sat in her swivel chair, taking another sip before speaking. “Tell me everything.”

Although she loved her friend, Camila decided to take the confidentiality of her fake boyfriend seriously. There were some humiliations that shouldn’t be shared. Months or years later, when everything turned into a funny story, she could consider sharing it with someone. So she said, “Let’s just say there’s a possibility I’m interested in Matt Smith.” It wasn’t a total lie; if she were generous, there was a third of truth in it.

Emma’s eyes widened. “You have a crush on Matt ‘Hot’ Smith?”

Camila frowned, nibbling on the lemon tart to buy more time. “Maybe.” It was truly excruciating to appear interested and indifferent at the same time. “What do we know about him?”

“I knew it!” Emma squealed, raising her extra-large smoothie cup. “Of course, that would be bribery, you little opportunist.” She laughed, the sound contagious. Before Camila knew it, she was laughing too. “What wouldn’t we do for friendship, right? You’re so lucky to have me as a friend.”

“I know,” Camila replied dramatically. “Never forget the love I have for you, Miss D’Arcy.”

“I won’t forget,” Emma said, running a hand through her short hair. The strands had returned to their dark blonde color, silkier than ever. “But don’t think I won’t be expecting more from you, my lovely.”

“You deserve all the smoothies in the world, my dear.”

Emma opened a satisfied smile, enjoying the cheap flattery Camila had to offer. “Let’s get to the point.” She took another sip before spinning in her chair, opening a drawer, and quickly starting to sort through the files. “Resume, resume… where are you?”

Having a friend in the human resources department was an unprecedented advantage. In that moment, Camila felt more grateful than ever for having made the right friendship.

It might be somewhat unethical, but didn’t they say that all’s fair in love and war?

“Ah, there you are. Perfect.” Emma pulled out a folder, spinning back to face her desk.

Camila felt her fingers tingle, desperate to see what was on Matt’s resume. Good heavens, she was going to faint from anxiety.

“Ready?” Emma asked, her voice shrill with excitement.

“No suspense, just open it already!” Camila exclaimed, leaning over the desk.

Emma laughed but promptly opened the folder, beginning to read. “Matthew Robert Smith. Bachelor’s in Marketing from the University of Cambridge, how bourgeois. Worked at Urban Pulse Media, Echo Advertising, and Brixton Creative Agency. Led the Green Brixton campaign and managed the rebranding project at Urban Pulse Media, and blah blah blah.” Emma lowered the resume, using her straw to eat more whipped cream. “He has an interest in soccer, zero surprise,” she teased before continuing, “travel, and technology. Nothing groundbreaking. Want to read the rest?”

“Of course,” Camila shot back, spinning the resume around so she could read it herself.

Matthew Robert Smith

Address: 759 Mayfair Road, Mayfair, London, SW9 8BQ

Phone: +44 20 8634 65791

Email: matt.smith@email.com

LinkedIn: linkedin.com/in/matt-smith-marketing

Professional Summary

Creative and dynamic marketing professional with over 5 years of experience in developing and implementing high-impact marketing campaigns. Specialized in digital strategies, branding, and audience engagement. Proven skills in leadership, communication, and data analysis to drive brand growth and enhance online presence.

Camila quickly read through the rest of the information. There was too much, and it wasn’t like his professional background was what really mattered.

“Okay.” She lifted her gaze, meeting Emma’s eyes. “Any additional information?”

“You should gather this information at the pub like a normal person. Almost the entire team enjoys happy hour there.”

“I don’t like drinking; you saw what happened last time. Enough humiliation, tell me everything. Don’t hold back any details.”

“You seem quite interested, Mila,” Emma narrowed her eyes. “You know he’s Mr. Charming himself, dresses well, and has that killer smile. Considering you had access to insider information, tell me you’re not planning to show up naked at his place.”

“What?” Camila squeaked, her face turning a bright shade of red.

Emma laughed. “I’m just kidding! I love seeing you blush like that. Anyway, I haven’t talked much to him one-on-one, so I don’t think I can help beyond that. But I’m not opposed to the idea of you paying him a visit; you know, at some point, you’ll need to dust off those cobwebs.”

“You’re terrible. But thanks, though I’m going to pass on your kind suggestion.”

The blonde shrugged. “Suit yourself.”

Camila sighed, glancing sadly at her empty latte cup. “I have to get back before Clare Nosy Davis decides to comment on my absence.”

“Ugh, I can’t stand her,” Emma huffed. “Keep me updated on the situation, and don’t forget to buy some new lingerie. In moments like this, you should be prepared for any surprises.”

“Emma!” Camila reprimanded, getting up from her chair. “You should take your own advice, you know?”

Just then, someone knocked on the door and entered after two taps. The scent of vanilla immediately gave away who it was.

Olivia Cook entered, carrying a stack of files. Camila always thought she looked like a porcelain doll, with her delicate features. Noticing Emma wasn’t alone, she said, “Sorry, I didn’t know you were busy.”

“No, no,” Emma waved her off, her cheeks turning a light shade of pink. “Camila was just about to leave, right?”

Under Emma’s sharp gaze, Camila pressed her lips together tightly to suppress a smile.

“Of course,” she stepped aside, offering Olivia a kind smile. “Emma’s all yours, dear.”

Camila slipped out before she received a kick. This brief distraction was enough to relieve some tension from her shoulders.

Back at her cubicle, Camila drummed her fingers on her thigh, ignoring the scrutinizing look Clare occasionally shot her way. It was okay; knowing a bit more about Matt calmed her, at least a little.

With her nerves settling, she managed to draft an article about the launch of the new youth athlete development program by SportsWave Innovations.

Before she knew it, it was 5:58 PM, the end of her workday. Camila shut down her computer and carelessly organized the files on her desk, trying not to think too much about the fact that she wouldn’t be taking the subway today. After popping a watermelon candy in her mouth and slinging her bag over her shoulder, she headed to the elevator, unable to resist checking herself out in the mirror.

A white turtleneck sweater, a black plaid skirt, tights, and black boots. She looked well put together. Her hair cascaded over her shoulders like a dark waterfall down to her waist. In an involuntary gesture, she grabbed her gloss from her bag and applied it to her lips.

“What on earth are you doing, Camila?” she scolded herself.

Before the doors opened, she stuffed the gloss back in her bag and entered the lobby of the office building, feeling a flutter in her chest at the sight of Matt. He was seated on a sofa, relaxed, lazily flipping through a pocket-sized book. Some strands of his brown hair fell over his forehead. Camila’s fingers itched to tuck them behind his ear.

Damn it, what kind of thoughts are those?

When Matt noticed her approach, he stood up, putting the book away, and flashed a smile full of secrets. Standing in front of him, Camila forgot she was nearly eight inches shorter than him. She had to lift her face to look him in the eye.

“Hey,” he greeted, taking a step toward her.

“Hey,” Camila replied, her voice barely above a whisper.

“Shall we go?”

“Sure.”

It was a bit disconcerting to have Matt beside her, walking toward the parking lot, having all his attention while she gave him her address. His presence set Camila’s nerves on edge. In her entire career at The London Herald, this was only the second time she had been alone with him—the first time was earlier in the afternoon when he suggested the fake dating idea—and it didn’t help that he remained perfectly calm as if he had been in other fake relationships before. Getting into the black Dodge, she was bombarded by the typically masculine, woodsy scent.

Unable to contain her tongue any longer, which usually happened when she reached peaks of stress, words floated out of her mouth.

“I’m not going to sleep with you.”

Crap, crap, crap. What was her damn problem? Of all the things she could have said, she had to mention sex?

Matt froze, his hand halfway to the ignition. One second passed, then another, until he turned his neck, his eyes skeptical.

“Please don’t tell me you thought I had that in mind when I suggested…”

“No!” Camila interrupted, unsure of where to put her face. “Of course not, I just… Well, it doesn’t hurt to clarify things.”

“Let me be clear: if my intention had been to sleep with you, I wouldn’t have made that proposal.” His eyes slowly roamed her body as if she were an exhibit. “Believe me, if that were my intention, I would have…” To her surprise, a shy smile broke across his face. “Never mind.”

Camila swallowed hard, unable to hold his gaze. It was too easy to imagine what would have happened if he had really wanted to sleep with her. It felt as if she had reverted back to a silly teenager filled with perverted ideas.

“Um, we should get going; the traffic is awful at this hour.”

Fortunately, Matt started the car.

“Alright, I know you’ve got a lot of noisy thoughts in your head.” She widened her eyes, momentarily foolishly believing he could read her wicked thoughts, but he continued, “What are your other terms?”

Through the window, she could see the endless line of cars on the avenue. It would be a long drive to her home in Fulham.

“No one at the paper can know about this,” she gestured with her hand. “And I still haven’t decided what favor to ask. Aren’t you scared? I could ask for a house, you know. Or worse, I could ask for all the money in your bank account.”

Matt flashed a dazzling smile that could belong to the devil himself, his voice soft like velvet as he said, “Ask me for the moon if you want. I’ll find a way to pull it down from the sky for you.”

It was impossible to tell if he was joking. At that moment, nothing was more dangerous in the world than his sweet tongue.

“And what if I asked for your heart?” she asked, hating the breathlessness in her voice.

Matt’s eyes darkened, and he stared at her for a long moment before replying.

“I would give it to you.” His fingers tightened on the steering wheel. “Any request; that was our agreement.”

Camila nodded, concluding that she was on unknown and dangerous ground. It was better to return to a safe place, one that didn’t make her heart want to leap out of her chest.

“And you? What are your terms?”

“Call me by my name. Boyfriends do that, don’t they?”

“Mathew. Matt.” She tried them out, tasting how the letters felt on her tongue. “Which do you prefer?”

He smiled sweetly, leaving her slightly speechless. “Matt is fine. We also need to have at least a basic understanding of each other. I don’t want to come off as an uninterested boyfriend.”

“Hmm… What’s your favorite color?”

“It depends on the moment, but lately…” he paused, his eyes fixed on the road. “I’d say brown.”

“Brown? You can’t be serious.” She gave him a skeptical look, arms crossed. “I’ve never met a single person who likes brown.”

“You’re meeting the wrong people, love. I like brown; it’s a warm color, don’t you agree?” Stopped in traffic again, he asked, “But what about you, Miss Favorite Color Inspector? What color do you prefer?”

“Oh, I don’t really have a favorite. But I’d say blue, like a normal person would,” she replied with false arrogance. “The same blue as a cloudless sky. I could spend hours just admiring that heavenly hue.”

“Charming. My turn to ask… hmm, let’s see… are you allergic to anything? Don’t look at me like that; it’s a pertinent question.”

“Matt!” she exclaimed, amused. “Please, you’re not even trying.”

“Answer. I didn’t say anything about your excellent question.”

“Ah, fine. I’m not allergic to anything, and you?”

“Me neither.” He laughed, a wonderful sound. “We should go on a date; it’s unlikely we’ll get through all the important questions now. It’s already the 21st, which means we have a lot to learn about each other before Christmas.”

“I agree.” Camila said, though the idea of having a date with him—fake or not—was somewhat daunting.

“Great, tomorrow you’ll be all mine, understood?”

Damn it, why did her damned mischievous mind see double meanings in everything? Containing the urge to leap out of the car, Camila nodded.

“Of course.” What else could she say? “Where do I meet you?”

“I’ll come pick you up.” He replied simply.

Camila shifted in her seat, trying to maintain a semblance of normalcy. It was simple; she was a normal person, so acting like one shouldn’t be difficult.

“What time? And where are we going?”

“In the afternoon, at 5 PM. It’s a surprise, so wear something casual.”

“You’re terrible,” she huffed. There were few things Camila disliked more than surprises.

“I do my best,” he said, his words shaped by a smile.

As she looked more closely at the interior of the car, she noticed the care Matt took in keeping it clean. The mats were spotless, there was no trash, and the back seat was occupied only by a forgotten leather jacket. Unconsciously, her eyes were drawn to the hand he kept on the steering wheel. Male hands were a sensitive topic for Camila, and Matt had a nice pair. When she realized she was staring at the prominent veins on his pale skin, she decided she needed to find a safe topic.

“Is your family going to find it strange if you show up with a girlfriend they’ve never heard of?”

He shook his head, glancing at her briefly with a half-smile before making a left turn. “They’ll probably beg me to marry you already.”

Her eyebrows shot up in surprise. “Is that the level of desperation they’ve reached?”

“Now you understand my suffering?” A breath of laughter escaped his thin lips. “Don’t let Aunt Muriel get to you; she loves to nag Emilia and me about kids. Ever since my sister’s wedding, she’s been knitting baby booties. But other than that, she’s an innocent old lady, and I believe she’ll be getting some good news soon.”

“Your sister…?” she raised her eyebrows suggestively.

“Yes.” He smiled widely, genuinely, nothing like those feline grins. The dimples in his cheeks made him even more charming, as if the news of becoming an uncle was a dream come true.

“Wow.” Camila blinked, the corners of her mouth curling into a smile that mirrored his. “Congratulations!”

“Thank you!” He turned his eyes back to the road, the traffic easing up. “Now, not only will they pressure me about marriage, but they’ll start demanding grandkids.” He sighed.

“But you want those things, don’t you?” The question slipped out before she could hold it back.

“Of course I do!”

“Then why—”

“I don’t want to rush into making the wrong choice. When I marry, it has to be for love. Marriage is a sacred bond, unbreakable; it shouldn’t be taken lightly. A child is an even greater responsibility, and I wouldn’t forgive myself if I couldn’t provide them with a loving home.”

Camila’s mouth fell open in surprise. That wasn’t quite the conclusion she expected.

“Matt Smith, you’re a hopeless romantic,” she declared, still trying to recover from the shock his words had caused.

“Well, thank you; that’s quite a compliment.”

“Which makes me question why you want to introduce a fake girlfriend to your family. That’s not the kind of behavior you’d expect from a romantic.”

He sighed. “Not this topic again?” In the absence of a response, he continued, “I’ve said it before; I would hate for you to spend another lonely Christmas.”

“Great.” She huffed, turning her gaze to the window. “No need to answer. Oh, you can turn here; it’s quicker this way.”

Matt promptly obeyed. They were now just a few blocks from the small building where Camila lived. She hoped her neighbor, Mrs. Jones, wouldn’t notice the car. Apparently, her romantic life was of great interest to the elderly woman.

“We need to address another matter,” she said, making a Herculean effort not to twist her fingers.

“What matter?”

“Remember when you mentioned romantic comedies earlier?” He nodded. “Do you know what they all have in common? They always, always find a way to make the couple kiss at the most inconvenient moment.” The heat of embarrassment burned on her face, but she pressed on. “And we need to seem comfortable with each other. Couples are at ease with physical proximity; it would be strange if we were all inhibited around each other.”

Camila regretted what she had said the next moment. Why did her mouth have to spew such atrocities from time to time? This character flaw was certainly a consequence of the fall she had suffered when she was a baby.

When silence fell in the car, she thought a miracle had happened and Matt had not heard any of her foolish words. But then she felt his hand on her knee, his touch firm and warm. He drew half-moons lazily. The air caught in Camila's lungs and she felt like one of those young ladies in period romances, all embarrassed after a simple touch.

"Are you okay?"

His voice had dropped a few octaves. Camila didn't look at him, trying – unsuccessfully – to pay attention to the residential street when she answered weakly: "Yes."

His fingers insinuated themselves a little upwards, on the threshold between respectful and indecent, squeezing her leg in a caress worthy of a lover. Camila swallowed hard, but said nothing. It had been her idea after all.

“What now?” he asked again.

“I’m fine.” It was so easy to lie.

She looked at him just in time to see a small smile spread across his face. With one last caress, he pulled his hand away so he could park the car. She had barely realized they had reached the building. The newly imposed distance made her shoulders relax.

This farce would never work. It was way beyond what her nerves could handle. Who was she trying to fool? Worse, how the hell had she agreed to a fake relationship? She was determined. She would end this farce once and for all. She would run to her apartment and then quit the newspaper so she would never see Matt’s face again. That would save her a lot of embarrassment. But before she could say anything, he said:

“Are you sure?” She almost jumped in surprise, but then I remembered that there was no chance of him reading her thoughts. “You said yourself that we’re not in a romantic comedy. Are you really going to kiss me?”

She shrugged, praying to appear as indifferent as possible. “Couples kiss, it would be strange if we spent a few days together without exchanging a single kiss.”

Matt turned his torso, moving a little closer, a smile on his lips. It was easy to forget that there were other people in the world. She didn't look away and didn't let herself be intimidated by the bites of embarrassment, the feeling of her stomach sinking when his eyes focused on her lips.

“Are you sure this isn't just an excuse to kiss me?” he teased, his voice softer than velvet.

“Don't be ridiculous.” He scolded, feeling her heartbeat in her ears. “If we kiss now, it won't be a surprise later, it will be something easy to deal with, natural. Are you that bad a kisser?”

He put a hand to his chest theatrically. “No need to offend, love, and anyway, you'll find out soon enough. The most interesting thing about all this is that just now you said—“

“Matt!” she exasperated, taking an extra large dose of courage before speaking again. “Shut up and kiss me already.”

The smile that curved her lips could easily belong to a fallen angel. It was as if the air was thin, Camila could have been on the arid plains of Mars and she wouldn't have noticed a difference. Without a word, Matt raised a hand, without breaking eye contact, curling his fingers around her neck, lifting her face delicately.

“Close your eyes.”

Camila did so. Every detail magnified: the soft warmth of his hand on her skin, the fresh scent of mint that emanated from his breath, and the almost imperceptible sound of a sigh escaping her lips.

The touch of his lips on hers was as light as the brush of a wing. At first, the kiss had been a simple peck, shy, almost hesitant. But then, like a fire slowly gaining strength, he moved his mouth against hers, first kissing the upper one and then doing the same with the lower one, slowly forcing her to part her lips. Matt held her more firmly, his fingers intertwining in her hair, pulling her closer as he invaded her mouth with his experienced tongue. The kiss became more intense, urgent. It was as if she were drowning.

Matt kissed her as if the world were going to end at any moment, as if that were the reason for his existence.

Camila brought a hand to his chest, quickly registering the firmness beneath her fingers, returning the kiss with equal intensity. God, how good he was a kisser! If someone asked her name now, she wouldn't be able to answer.

And when they finally separated, they were both breathless, her eyes still closed, her face burning with the heat of the moment. The touch of his lips still seemed to be imprinted on hers, as if it were something that could never be erased. Camila opened her eyes slowly, dazed, trying somehow to meet her need for oxygen.

It was a mistake to look at his mouth, it was swollen

Matt returned her gaze, his chest rising and falling unevenly. Somehow, he had become even more attractive. A cheeky smile spread across his face. “So, do I kiss badly?”

She shrugged, trying to fix her hair to buy herself some time. It could have been the best kiss of her life, of course, if it weren’t a complete sham. No matter how delicious it had been, it meant absolutely nothing.

“It wasn’t that bad,” she finally replied, forcing the words out.

Camila was surprised when he gently touched her face, holding her chin between his thumb and forefinger, compelling her to meet his gaze.

“Has anyone ever told you that you’re a terrible liar?”

“I’m not lying, I…” she trailed off as he traced his finger around her mouth, wiping away the smudged gloss. His gaze had become unbearably intense, as if he were about to kiss her again at any moment.

“Sorry, what were you going to say?”

She swallowed, deciding she needed to get out of the car before she had a nervous breakdown. She hoped her legs were steady again. She couldn’t bear the embarrassment of tripping on the car door.

“I need to go in. See you tomorrow?”

He leaned back, blinking several times before agreeing, flashing her a charming smile. “See you tomorrow, love.”

[mbrainspaz]

My college best friend who's been increasingly distant since I came out in 2020 has apparently told my queerphobic mom that she's coming to visit my family over the holidays. She hasn't said as much to me. I've missed her so much but I've also been hurt ever since she wasn't there for me at all the last time my life went to hell. She also quietly untagged herself the last time I tried to reach out to her on social media. I've kind of had to accept that our friendship as it was has been over for a while. The only time I heard from her this year was when she called on her birthday to tell me some crazy stories but when the call dropped she couldn't be bothered to call back. She never answers my calls. Just heard today that she deadnamed me in a text to my mom, so that sucks. I've suspected for a while that she cared more about keeping my mom than me. Good for them I guess. They deserve each other. I don't know what to do. I'm not mad. If she showed up tomorrow I'd be happy to see her. But it's not like we're real friends anymore. I've mourned that a few times but it is what it is. You can't hold on to people who've moved on.

[rantsintechnicolor]

Adopted for TG (updated)

It’s Thanksgiving. For a while there, my family dominated the holidays, but after a few years we decided we would go to W’s parents in OC for Thanksgiving and my family for Christmas, because my young cousins were less annoying and better behaved than W’s young nephews. We haven’t been much to the OC due to W’s dad’s prison drama and the pandemic. (Oh, and because they love Trump.) We haven’t been going anywhere really, with the business being so new and a few of W’s migraines having the worst timing.

These days we make the conscious decision to stay so our business may benefit from any Black Friday revelers, like lots of small businesses. It’s sort of a crucial move, because funds are depleted after the harvest, and we hope very much to limp into the new year, hope very hard to see gains, hope very hard that this will get easier.

So for TG, we try to get adopted. Our favorite family, our first choice, did indeed adopt us. The Rs. We go camping with them every year at the Kern River. We were in a band with P. C is our best friend and we see her every week. We have been part of the family for many, many years. 

And it was all going to be fine and relaxing with the following folk: 

P-- grandpa

D-- grandma

S-- son of P and D

C-- daughter of P and D

G-- husband of C

O-- grandson, son of C and G, age 5

and then us. 

Now, Ch is coming with Da and their three girls. So that’s:

Ch-- son of P and D

Da-- wife of Ch

Sa-- granddaughter, child of Ch and Da, age 16

V-- granddaughter, child of Ch and Da, age 13

A-- granddaughter, child of Ch and Da, age 7?8?9?

AND I-- Sa’s boyfriend. 

Ch is P and D’s eldest son. There are hard feelings between P and Ch-- they do not speak and the grandparents rarely have access to their granddaughters. We have been instructed not to mention Covid because Ch has some very strong opinions about it. (C says, “Ch says it’s (covid) not a thing.”) Also, that we are not to grill I and scare him. 

Wha?! Now. Fair. P and Ch think they are right about everything so they won’t back down if they have strong opinions. And this is a rare occasion when P gets to spend time with his granddaughters and we should work hard to see it doesn’t get spoiled. Still, I hate to have my speech restricted. And honestly, if we wanted to hang around conservative folk and listen to some trumpy shit, we would have visited W’s folks in OC.

Grilling this kid I? Is that like roasting? I don’t even know this kid. Why would I want to grill or roast him? Do they mean interrogate? (I have been known to be an aggressive asker of questions.) How do you learn about someone if you don’t ask questions?! Maybe I shouldn’t even ask questions, because this is probably not the first or the last boyfriend Sa will ever have, if we are being real. For peace, maybe I should just say hello, how are you, what’s your favorite color, and forget him. 

So that’s 6+2+5+1. It’s not the small intimate family gathering I was hoping for. It has grown to a rather monstrous size for today’s standards-- or my standards of today. Fourteen, which includes a guy who doesn’t think Covid is a thing. Can I still be gay at this party?! 

Our hosts are wonderful people. They are as intuitive as they are kind and generous. We will be eating outside to contend with Ch’s Covid denial. I will avoid the situations that cause me stress. And C says I can dress like a vampire and talk about all the gay shit I want, so at least I will be having fun in the garden sipping all the bubbling wine, looking picturesque and unapproachable. Maybe I’ll play cribbage with S.

I’ll let you know how it goes.

UPDATE: it went fine. The teenagers ignored us and we carefully monitored our alcohol intact so as to keep our contentious opinions where they needed to be. When the contentious contingent took their leave, we gave thanks for the people in are lives with whome we can speak to openly and respectfully even though we don't always agree.

[nitestar7]

Borrowed Hearts (1997) - review

Reviewed by Litewriter Borrowed Hearts (1997) is a darling little Holiday Drama great for the whole family to watch or just enjoy it yourself. It was written by TED KOTCHEFF and directed by PAMELA WALLACE and EARL W. WALLACE. The main cast starred SARAH ROSEN FRUITMAN as little Zoey Russell, actresses ROMA DOWNEY as Kathleen Russell (Zoey’s mother), KEVIN HICKS as Jerry Russell which is Zoey’s…

[i-like-frenchfries]

I quite possibly had one of the worst Christmas dinners ever in my family.

2023 y'all. Great way to end the year, watching your family fall apart.

[seyodys]

Me, seeking solace from holiday drama, wandering into what I think is the empty living room- "Finally, some space to think!"

Me, seeing my chatty uncle sitting in the corner lounge chair- "Oh, no.... that's a conversation just waiting to happen..."

*heads back into the dining room where everyone's too busy to talk to me*

[jasontoddsgaythoughts]

I just think a holiday romcom movie starring these four would heal me a bit

[lynxgriffin]

Long shot, but request drawing of Susie and Noelle comforting Kris? Kris is just trauma central nowadays (most AUs anyway), needs all the hugs.

They DO need a big ol' round of comfort hugs from their friends, for sure!

[artingstarvist]

So as I progress with Paper Memories (my sequel fic), the more convinced I am that I want most of the illustrations for it to look something like this. Obviously, I wouldn't use chibi style to illustrate dark moments or spicy romance, but for the more run of the mill moments, I think this is what I'm going to go with?

I've been kind of fighting with the idea, because I know the grittier illustrations for Never Forget, Never Forgive were kind of a draw in for a lot of people, but considering how huge of a monster Paper Memories is looking to be, I don't think I have the time/energy for that kind of art for every chapter. For the record, the sequel is not quite the same whump-fest and does include a lot more fluff and comedy which this style could be great for.

So I'm kind of wondering what y'all think? Be honest, if like 3/4ths of the chapters had illustrations like this would it bum you out?

[pamouche]

Khun Connor told me you’ve come here to write a novel. I’ll show you around the island. No matter where you seek information —be it underwater, on land or any corner of the island— I know it all. Having a local around will make you feel more at ease.

LOVE SEA THE SERIES. EP 1: LOVE BEGINS WITH THE FLICK OF A PEN

[my-rose-tinted-glasses]

THE TRAINEE Off Jumpol as Jane Episode 4

[yohankang]

Rage is gripped in the hands. Rage gets stuck in the throat, suppressed. Rage is a promise kept.

Happy Holidays @natahjikio! May the new year bless you with health, wealth, happiness, and lots of amazing dramas!

[nocofamilyau]

do any of the kids have a favorite toy/stuffed animal? idk if someone's asked this b4

nah its alright, no one else has asked yet!

That little snow owl plushie I keep drawing Raj carrying around is obviously his favourite thing in existence (next to Wayne... and watching hockey.. and his dads.. man. he likes a lot of things), he probably has heaps more toys but that's the only one he really cares about. lesser known fact about it is that it was actually an old Hedwig plushie that Cody had lying around, he remembered he still had it and thought, 'fuck it, i'll give this to the kid I just adopted on a whim'

Dave can occasionally be seen carrying around a stuffed kitten or a blanket that he basically came with when Noah and Cody found him. he also inherited Cody's old stuffed emu Jerry (by inherited I pretty much mean given as a last-ditch effort to get him to shut the hell up)

Mike claims to be too old for toys - unless you count the ones of characters from his favourite cartoon...

[total-funger-island]

designing things for my td funger au :3

Mini jester Chris