#i've had this exact exchange with this exact wording in my head for ages now

[hertas-funger-blog]

Cahara: wait, so you've been rejecting me cus you think sex out of wedlock is like, a sin or whatever?

D'arce: Admittedly, yes

Cahara: oh, phew, I was starting to think it was cus you were like, a lesbian or something

D'arce: What's a lesbian?

[mumms-the-word]

Hello my lovely friend!

I've chosen a song from one of my favourite musicals for you!

Hopefully it sparks some inspiration (I love this song I think i't so much fun)

Enjoy! <3

HELLO MY LOVE this is very late but I had fun writing it, so I hope that you enjoy it <3

(fun fact for those who don't know, which is probably most people, I am an avid broadway nerd and I listened to Wicked like...ad nauseam in my middle school/high school days so the minute I saw the title I had this song immediately in my head, which was very fun. As soon as I ran a few of the lyrics in my head I knew exactly what I had to write)

Anyways without further ado, I gift you with (drumroll pls)...some more Blackstaff Librarian x Gale fic ;)

under the cut and also on ao3 now

✧���⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

Loathing

Gale x Blackstaff Librarian

After their initial encounter on the librarian's first day at Blackstaff Academy, Gale and the librarian now have fairly low opinions of one another. They both decide to vent to their parents about the other person (as one does when they hate someone).

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

“Gale, darling, so good of you to join us for tea! Let me have a look at you. We haven’t seen you in a tenday, you know.”

Gale smiled and bent to exchange a strong, rib-cracking hug with his mother, the inimitable Morena Dekarios. He kissed her cheek as a greeting before letting her take his face in her hands so she could scrutinize him.

“Forgive me, Mother, the academy has required much of my attention the last several days,” Gale said, as Morena pursed her lips as she studied him.

“Have they been working you too hard? You look peaky.”

“I’ve been telling him that for days, Mrs. Dekarios,” Tara said, padding into the room. “He simply refuses to take care of himself.”

“Tara,” he chided, giving her a look. He took his mother’s hands and pulled them away from his face, squeezing them briefly. “I feel fine, I assure you.”

“Hmm.” She clearly didn’t believe him, but she let it go for now. “Well if you insist. Come, come have a seat, I’ll have tea ready in a moment. I want to hear all about how things are going over at the Academy.”

Gale blew out a long breath as he followed his mother onto her balcony and took a seat at the table there. “Where to start? We have a new librarian, for one.”

“Oh? Not another tired old Candlekeep retiree is it?” 

“No. No, she’s…young. Nearer my age.” Gale tried to picture her in his mind’s eye, to try and guess her age, and then quickly decided against it. The less he thought about the librarian, the better. 

“Oh?” Morena‘s eyes brightened with interest at that little fact. “Hold that thought, darling, I want to hear everything.”

She disappeared back inside to fetch the tea things while Tara hopped up onto the cushions that were stacked in her seat. That place at the table had been her teatime spot practically since the day Gale first summoned her. Though the cushions and chairs had been replaced over time, they were always placed in the exact same spot, with the cushions stacked at just the right height for her to comfortably look over the table’s edge and indulge in a spot of tea. 

Gale leaned closer to her and lowered his voice. “You haven’t said a word to my mother about our new librarian, have you?”

“I don’t know what you mean, Mr. Dekarios,” Tara said, licking at her paws to clean them for teatime. “Why would I talk about librarians of all things to your mother?”

The answer didn’t exactly allay any of Gale’s suspicions, but he let it go as Morena returned with the tea tray all prepped, including a plate of Gale’s favorite sandwiches and a shallow bowl for Tara's tea. She poured them each a cup and insisted Gale eat something before finally settling in her chair and taking a sip of her own tea. 

“So,” she said, cradling her cup in her hands and leaning forward slightly, her eyes sparkling with interest. “Tell me all about this new librarian.”

“Well, for starters, she’s only been with us for a tenday and she’s already caused quite a…stir.” He frowned, recalling how she frog-marched him out of the library in front of a crowd of students and colleagues. “On her first day at the Academy she refused to let anyone into the library while she was ‘cataloguing’ and kicked out anyone who dared to enter. Ever since then things have only gotten worse.” 

“How so?”

“Well, she—she’s come up with this ridiculous new organization system for the books and it’s taken her days to rearrange everything. Now no one knows where to find anything and we’re all forced to ask her for assistance, which she seems to find exceedingly annoying.” 

Though perhaps it was only when he asked that she got annoyed. He ignored that thought for now.

“Her new system doesn’t make the slightest flicker of sense,” he complained. He should have left off two or three sentences ago, but he was getting worked up now, all warm under his collar. “It’s been a disaster. I’ve taken to hoarding books I need in my study just to keep track of them. Honestly, I don’t know what the Blackstaff was thinking, giving her the job—she has completely upended the entire academy with her little project to reorganize the library. She has delayed everyone’s studies in the process and she is maddeningly unhelpful if you ever try to talk to her. Most unprofessional, in my opinion. In fact, I think she is without a doubt the most infuriating woman I think I have ever met.”

“Oh dear, that does sound like a torment,” Morena said, though the way she smiled behind her next sip of tea suggested she was more amused than sympathetic. “How much are you forced to interact with her?”

“If I had my way it would be never,” Gale huffed. “But unfortunately the reorganization of the library has taken over her main office as well. Blackstaff Vajra has temporarily given her the empty study adjoining mine, so it is impossible to escape her entirely, now that we share a common room.”

“Roommates, is it?” Morena teased, smiling broadly. “I can’t recall the last time you were forced to share a room with anyone.”

“At Blackstaff? It must have been ages ago.”

He had shared camps and tavern rooms with his companions, back when he’d had an illithid tadpole in his brain and the entire world needed saving from a Netherbrain. But this was different.

After Gale returned to Blackstaff, he’d been given one of two empty studies clustered around a common room for use as his teaching office. But now Gale’s days of having both study and common room entirely to himself were over. Now, whenever he tried to enjoy a relaxing cup of tea or reinvigorate himself with a cup of coffee and a good book, she was there, passing through with arms full of books, her curls falling out of whatever hairstyle she had attempted to wrangle them into. Each and every time, she took one look at him behind her wire-framed glasses, glared, stuck her pert little nose up in the air, and stalked away. Before he could even so much as say hello or good evening.

Not that he wanted to, of course.

Any interest he had in her, any intrigue he might have felt, was quickly dissolving into pure and utter loathing. She was surly, rude, and waspish, she had no patience for simple conversation, and no care for the sheer amount of disruption she was causing across the entire Academy. Every time she saw him with a book in his hands, she glared. Every time they passed in the hallway, she glared. Every time he stepped into her chaotically catalogued library, she glared!

When he was fairly certain he hadn’t done anything reprehensible to her! She seemed to hate him simply for existing.

Her name was on everyone’s lips these days, to the point where he felt he couldn’t escape it. If she wasn’t there in front of him taunting him with her hazel-eyed glares, he was forced to hear of her while eating in the dining hall, trying to teach his classes, monitoring students during study hall, and even relaxing with his colleagues at the Yawning Portal. There was no escape from the Blackstaff Librarian. Not even in his own teaching study.

“And of course I’m expected to put up with it as the newest professor at the academy,” Gale finished, throwing up his hands, having related all of this to his mother as well. “Ridiculous.”

“Yes, dear, and it’s so good of you to martyr yourself by sharing rooms with her," Morena said, hiding another smile behind a sip of tea.

“What is that supposed to mean? And why are you smiling like that?” he asked, growing frustrated with her now too. The whole time he had complained, she continued to smile and chuckle and sit with her cheek leaning against her hand, a fond and amused look in her eyes.

“Oh, no reason.” Morena finished off her tea before lowering her cup back onto its saucer, that same smile still on her lips. She exchanged a subtle look with Tara, who gave a little amused squint of her eyes and then delicately pretended to be busy washing her face.

"You can't fool me so easily, Mother," he said. “What are you thinking?”

“Nothing much, darling. I am only thinking that I should like to invite her over for tea.” She leaned back in her chair, her hands folded comfortably over her middle, and let her gaze trail off in the vague direction of Blackstaff Academy. "She sounds like a young woman I should get to know."

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

In her sparse new temporary office, a certain Blackstaff librarian crumpled up the letter she had been trying to write and tossed it to the side, letting the balled-up parchment join about a dozen other crumpled-up letters on the floor. She huffed to herself and pulled out a fresh piece of parchment to write on, dipping her quill back into the ink.

Dearest Papa, she began. She continued with inane lines about her health, the weather, and how much she appreciated Blackstaff Vajra for offering her the position as Chief Librarian of Blackstaff Academy, as she had done in every other letter she started. She was determined this time not to ruin it by mentioning a certain annoying professor with whom she had had too many interactions already.

But inevitably, as it had happened in the other dozen letters before this one, he elbowed his way into her writing, just the same way he had elbowed his way into her library.

Regrettably, she wrote, nowhere is perfect and I’ve found that quite a few of my colleagues here at the Academy can be more than a little trying on my nerves. There is one man in particular, a professor with whom I must now share a common room, who is absolutely, without a doubt, the most provoking, vexatious, exasperating man I think I’ve ever had the displeasure to speak with. He is careless and arrogant and swans about the place as though he and not dear Vajra were the Blackstaff! I cannot understand how he of all people has been accepted to teach here, beyond that everyone must be fawning over his renewed status as a Chosen of Mystra and hero of that nasty illithid business down south. As though we do not have enough Chosens and heroes! He is constantly in my way, hoards books like a dragon, and seems to intentionally put himself where I must see or speak with him even when I expressly wish to avoid him. If I have to spend one more day sharing a common room with this most infuriating man I may just go mad. Do you know, just the other day I caught him sprawled out along the sofa of the common room like a Calishite pasha, filthy boots on the table—

But here she stopped, glaring down at the page. She was being untruthful, if not unkind. She had not yet caught him in a state of such blatant disarray—yet. She stared at her letter, her mind taking her back to two days ago when she had come into the common room, hoping for some peace and quiet, only to find him there.

He’d been stretched along the sofa, that was true, but with his ankles hanging off the edge and crossed, the soles of his boots mercifully away from both sofa and table (though dangerously close). He’d been reading when she entered, one hand cradling the book on his chest and the other combing absently through his dark hair, his lips pursed faintly as he studied the text. The setting sun had been streaming in through the windows, giving his lightly tanned skin an all-over bronzed look, and when he’d looked up as she entered the light caught his dark eyes in such a way as to dust the deep, rich brown of his irises with a sprinkling of bright copper. 

He was handsome, she’d give him that, but it only made her dislike him more. Handsome men always had a sense of arrogance and pride about them and his reputation had more than preceded him in that regard. Of course, it didn’t help that when he looked up, he’d instantly sat up all surprised—and then he had the audacity to look disappointed.

Disappointed!

Oh, she hated him. Absolutely, utterly, completely loathed him. 

Him, with his stupid little Mystra earring, and his fussy way of styling his long hair, and the way he pursed his lips when he was deep in thought, and the careless way he held books sometimes, his fingers tucked between pages—

Gods, she was thinking about his hands now?

She sat back in her chair, glaring at her letter, her face flushed and her lips pressed in a thin line. And then, after a moment, she crumpled the letter up, the same as the others. She gathered all the failed letters into a metal wastebin and, with a snap of her fingers, promptly set them all alight. The soft crackling of the flames did little to cool her off, however. 

She’d just have to write her father a letter another day, when her mind wasn’t so wrapped up in all the things she hated about one Professor Gale Dekarios. For now, perhaps it was best to simply give up and go home.

And perhaps take a cold bath to cool her flustered nerves.

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

[heartsandmuses]

weekly lineup

for @stonyauniverse january week 3 // "nice try, canon"

for @warmandfluffybingocards // square: "free space"

marvel cinematic universe. tony stark/steve rogers. rated g. 1k.

canon-divergent au where steve and tony are still alive to lead the next generation of avengers.

— — —

Tony’s favorite thing about spending Sunday mornings in the Compound was watching Steve post the weekly team lineup.

“Alright, no pushing and shoving, this’ll be up here all week. You can take a look at it whenever you need to, okay?” Steve reminded everybody, though his gaze drifted pointedly toward the kids—the newer recruits—who were practically bouncing in their seats out of pure excitement. Slowly, Steve grabbed a Mjlonir-shaped magnet and stuck the roster in its usual spot on the fridge, backing a few steps away before he said, “Okay, it’s up! Go ahead, everyone. And remember — if your name’s at the top, you’re on-call this week, if you’re at the bottom, you’re on the reserve team, and if you’re not up there at all, you’ve got the week off.”

The words were like a starting shot, and despite Steve’s warning to take things slow, Peter, Kamala, and Kate all made a mad dash towards the list. Honestly, Tony was surprised none of them had knocked over any of the kitchen stools in their haste, though it seemed like Peter nearly tripped over himself on the way, his spidey-senses catching him just in time.

Steve looked over at Tony as if to say, can you believe this? even though he’d witnessed this exact scene play out countless times before. Tony just smiled behind his mug of coffee and offered a fond shake of his head to reply, I know.

It was a good system they had going on. Now that the rotating lineup of Avengers was growing every day, only about half the team needed to be on-call anymore, barring an actual end-of-the-universe level threat. And with so many newer, younger team members coming in, it only made sense to pair each of them up with a more experienced, more seasoned pro to learn the ropes. They trained together, they went on missions together, they learned from each other, and the next week, the newbies were partnered with someone else to repeat the process. It allowed them to hone different skills with different mentors, and see which personalities and powers meshed well together. 

It was certainly working out well so far, Tony had to admit. The newer Avengers were already starting to show a ton of improvement from all of the practice and mentorship, and the older ones benefited immensely from the occasional time off. Even if all the gods and super-soldiers around here weren’t slowed down by age, they still could use the rest — missions could be just as emotionally and mentally draining as they were physically, sometimes even more so.

In any case, it sure made things a lot easier than being on-call—and on edge—24/7. Besides, there was something to be said about having a general work-life balance, something that Tony wouldn’t have even dreamed of back in the early days. Now, he was finding that it wasn’t so bad, taking some time for himself. For the people he cared about.

He exchanged another glance with his co-captain.

“Come on, move over, I wanna see!” Kamala said, stuck peering over Peter and Kate’s shoulders, the shortest of the three of them.

“Aha! I got Natasha!” Kate said, finally moving out of Kamala’s way to give Nat a high-five.

“I’m with Thor!” Kamala announced, once she found her name on the roster. “Oh, this is gonna be so cool!”

"I've got Captain Rogers!" Peter glanced at Tony with a bright grin. “And— did you see, Mr. Stark? You're not up here this week!”

“I did see, Mr. Parker,” Tony replied with a laugh. “I made that list, y’know. Well, helped make it. If I had it entirely my way, Steve and I would both be getting the week off.”

His pointed look was met with a fond eye-roll, as Steve settled into the seat next to him. “We will, soon enough,” he promised, giving Tony a gentle pat on the arm in consolation. “Once we know that the trainees can handle themselves without us.”

“Hey, c’mon, give us some credit,” Kate scoffed. “We’ve been doing great so far!”

“She’s got a point there, Cap,” Natasha chimed in. “It won’t be the end of the world if you and Tony take a vacation. And if it is, we’ll call you back in.“

“Yeah, we’ve got things covered,” Kamala said confidently.

But before anyone else could offer up their two cents on the matter, the alarm went off overhead. Over the speakers, Maria Hill announced, “We’ve found a hidden HYDRA base operating out of the Catskills. All on-call team members and trainees report to the Quinjet immediately.”

Steve stood back up, just as the rest of the team turned their attention to him, waiting for orders. “Alright, Avengers, if you wanna prove something, now’s the time. Let’s give it our best out there,” he said, gaze softening as he looked over the newer recruits, then his husband. “And depending on how it goes, we can reconsider next week’s roster.”

Tony’s expression brightened, and he couldn’t help but lean in for a brief kiss, ignoring all of the feigned gagging from the rest of the team. When he pulled back, it was with a dazzling, determined smile. “Well, you heard him, everyone — suit up and head out! It’s time to kick some ass!”

Steve gave Tony a nudge. “You wanna do the honors?”

“Oh, no, you’ve got it, sweetheart. It’s your week, anyway.”

The anticipation in the room was nearly palpable as Steve cleared his throat. “Avengers, assemble!” he called, and everybody moved at once, rushing to get ready.

As always, the kids were the first ones out the door. 

[pentupfortoolong]

Safe Place

"So it's not too long until we reach your uncle's place?"

"Under ten minutes away."

"Good, this whole thing has me side-eying everything I see."

"This coming from the guy who wrote her off as a- and I quote- 'crazy broad'?" "And if we didn't get those letters in the mail, I'd have left it at that! Hey, speaking of, did you get one of those blue flowers too?"

"I got the exact same thing you did, letter and all."

"Geez Darren, why so terse?"

"Steve, I'm a big fan of the whole "getting us there in one piece" thing the kids are raving about. You'll have to excuse me if I'd like to have my eyes on the road while it's raining and heading into nightfall."

"Alright, sorry dude. It's just... like, when this chick says 'You two would make excellent daughters', like... who says that? Of all the fucked up things... and that's putting aside the fact that she looked only a few years older than us. What would you say, 39, 40?"

"42, give or take a year."

"I mean, I know I look young for my age, but what 42 year old says that to someone 36?" "And if I recall correctly, you wrote it off as her being drunk." "And if those letters didn't exist, that's all it would have been. But now I think she's REALLY twisted. I mean, who writes 'Come to me and be my family'? Did she expect us to call the number and be like 'Sure, you can be my new mommy?' "

"I don't know how you expect me to know what's running through her head."

"But the really scary part is that she somehow knew where we lived? Did she follow us home from the bar that night? She must have had a friend help her, there's no way she could have gotten both of us. Do you remember seeing anyone when you opened your door?"

"Not a peep."

"Right, definitely some help then."

"Alright, we're here. The key's under the mat, you go ahead while I park the car out of the way."

"Just don't take too long, D."

"Right behind you, S."

*Minutes later*

"Alright D, I'll find a light switch and-"

"Oh, that won't be necessary. I've got that covered."

"Wait, who the fuck?"

"Hello again, boys!"

"YOU?! You ARE stalking us, aren't you?! We already told you we want nothing to do with you! Darren, come on, we gotta get the fuck out!"

...

"Darren, you're standing in front of the door."

"I've kept up my end of the bargain, Lorna. You'll do the same?"

"I am a woman of my word, Darren."

"The fuck... ohhhh, I get it now, you son of a bitch! You sold me out! You brought me here so she can keep me prisoner for god knows what and you'd get to run with your tail between your legs!

YOU COWARDLY PIECE OF SHIT, YOU'RE NOT LEAVING ME HERE WITH HE-"

*KLUNK*

*Two hours later*

"Uhhhh, the fuck am I? Why can't my- are my fucking arms and legs in chains?! And what the fuck happened to my skin?! It's soft and- my nails are painted?! And when the fuck did my hair get so long and red?"

"Oh good, you're awake!"

"Wait, who the fuck are you?! Are you that crazy bitch's friend?!" "Steve, calm down! Oh sorry, Scarlett."

"D-Darren?! What the... what did she do?! You've got freckles, a-and short black hair a-and tits! ...Ohhhh, she got you too, didn't she! You attempted to throw me to her to save yourself but she went back on the deal and now she's put us in these super-realistic costumes! Well, you deserve it, but if you help me get out of here, I MIGHT not cut you out of my life." "Three things: - These aren't costumes, this is all magic. - My name is Daisy now - The deal was never to give you over to here in exchange for my freedom. It was that she would change BOTH of us. But I knew you'd never go along with it willingly, so I had to play it cool." "But-" "I didn't believe her at first. But I called the number on that letter, and she... she knew things she couldn't have. And she promised I could be the girl I always wanted to be. And I offered to bring you along as proof of my commitment."

"Wait, you've always wanted to be a girl? And you never told me?"

"It's not the kind of thing you can easily share." "OK, this is a lot to take in. And finding out magic is, what, a real thing?" "I know, right? But thanks to Mom, I can live out the dream I always wanted! She even made me younger in the process! Now I'm an 18 year old girl who will also start to learn magic!"

"OK, dude, I can see your dick while you spin."

"Oh, that was one of my conditions, and Mom was all too happy to let me keep it!"

"Stop calling her Mom, this is all so messed up! "But she IS our Mom, like how you're my sister."

"The fuck you mean?" "The pill she gave us to change our forms had some of her blood in it. Now we ARE her daughters, in more ways than one." "YOU, maybe. I don't want this, change me back!

"Not happening, sis. That wasn't part of the deal. Besides, you haven't seen yourself yet. Here, I brought a mirror for you!"

"I don't know how you think that's going to make a diff- oh, wait. I'm actually... kinda hot?" "TOTALLY hot, babe! I wouldn't have Mom play favourites now, which is why she made us both the same age, and you get to keep your cock, too!" "... Huh, so I do." "If you're feeling calmer, I'll take the chains off. I'm sorry we had to do this, but I know how much you fly off the handle."

"OK, I'm calm, I'm calm."

"No escape attempts?"

"No escape attempts." "Are my girls getting along OK?" "Oh, hi Mom! I was just getting ready to bring Scarlett out!"

"YOU?! I didn't ask to be turned into a girl!"

"No but your dear sister was right to bring you both to me. I knew deep down she wanted this, and I've always wanted a daughter to share my wisdom with, and now I have two!"

"And maybe more, right Mom?" "We'll see, sweetie. Is your sister getting used to the idea of being a girl?" "When I get out of here, I'm undoing this and turning you both into frogs or something!"

"Oh my, someone's testy! Daisy, I think your sister needs to spend more time down here."

"OK, Mom. I'm sorry."

"Oh it's not your fault, sweetheart. You've taken to this so well and I'm proud of you! Now, let's go upstairs and make a potion that will solve this for us."

"Coming, Mommy!" "Now Scarlett, while Daisy and I are working, you have time to think about where things go from here.

If you behave, we can be a nice, happy family. But I can, and will, make a potion. I can make one that will regress your age further and make you a helpless baby, or one that will erase your memories and Daisy and I will fill your head with whatever you want."

"You wouldn't."

"I definitely would. It might even get to the point where I decide Daisy will be my only daughter, but you'll be our French maid."

"But I don't speak-"

"Oh, you will. You'll forget everything, including most of the English you know. Or if Daisy's behaving really well, and you're especially disobedient, I might just tweak things and make you believe you're Daisy's girlfriend."

"Wha-"

"Or I can go further- I can make you a fucktoy for us both, and all you will know and ask for is how you can please us."

"The fuck?!"

"Oh, you rage, but I see your member down there, getting hard. Maybe you DO want that? Maybe there's a part of you deep down that's excited you're a girl but your stubborn ego refuses to reconcile that?"

"I-I..."

"So, will you behave? And you'll accept your new family?"

"Y-yes, I'm sorry. You can be my new Mommy. I'll sit here and think about how I can be a better girl for you."

"That's all I want, sweetie. I'll be back to check on you in a bit."

[acefruit]

You are Not Sleeping on The Goddamn Floor 1/2

Rating: Mature

Archive Warning: tw mild smut (no sex)

Relationships: Dan Howell/Phil Lester

word count: 4,156

part two

AO3 link

tags below

Summary:

Dan and Phil's 2009 meeting reimagined. Dan is curious, they talk sexuality. Mild smut ensues.

Notes:

Okay. This is fucking embarrassing. Instead of studying for my state exam, I've made this. First fanfic I have written since my 1D times. Because it's dnp and mild smut, I feel like I'm committing a crime lol :(. If this finds some readers, I can write a second part. I'm gross. Enjoy -- (Beaware, English is not my first language)

Tags: 2009 Dan Howell, 2009 Phil Lester, First Kiss, Mild Smut, Kissing, Coming In Pants, Coming Out, Grinding, Awkward First Times, Virgin Dan Howell, Virgin Phil Lester, Virginity, Dan has a crush on Phil

---

Phil Lester / @AmazingPhil

:D @danisnotonfire gets here tomorrow 3:25 PM / 18 Oct 09

---

Dan would be lying if he tried to argue that he hadn’t imagined this exact moment playing out in his head over and over again since he and Phil started talking just a few months ago. A proper opportunity hadn’t presented itself until now; countless Skype conversations late into the night and thousands of exchanged Twitter messages later, Phil’s family had gone somewhere up North for a vacation and Dan was taking a gap year before starting his first semester in Manchester. With a free house for three whole days, the stars lined out for them just perfectly, presenting a chance to meet for the very first time.

He couldn’t help but feel his own heart fluttering when he disembarked the train in Manchester, looking for a lanky man with a similar build and a haircut to his own. Confused in a large city he had never been to before, Dan gave the appearance of a tourist with his large backpack and a tired expression only a person who had spent the last four hours on a train would have. For a moment he contemplated attempting to dig his phone out of the depths of his backpack and text Phil since he had hastily thrown it inside when he realised that it was his time to disembark.

Although he had planned out this moment to a tee, in the end, the two of them were tall, socially anxious guys who spent more time on the internet than they would likely admit, and neither knew how to handle these situations. On his way to Manchester, Dan carefully tailored a plan on how to approach Phil when meeting him for the first time, as if he were approaching a delicate creature, that could escape with one wrong move.

Nonetheless, he changed this plan at least three times on his way: first, he settled on shaking Phil’s hand, since hugging him could be seen as too much, and he didn’t exactly know the current state of Phil’s physical boundaries. For sure, not everybody is okay with hugs, especially on the first meeting. However, the more he reflected on this plan the less he seemed to like it; Why do people of similar age shake their hands anyway? Although Phil was four years older, this could make things more awkward, for sure. Dan reflected on one of the many long nights that they had spent talking on Skype well until dawn, with Phil already tucked in the bed with his laptop on the side, rubbing his tired eyes. “I am a cuddly person,” said he, but Dan couldn’t exactly recall the context of that conversation. Although this could have been the result of Phil’s tiredness or some sleepy delirious state that he had entered, at that moment, Dan’s eyes still twinkled with hope and excitement.

Okay, when he finds him, he will go for a hug. But maybe not a full hug, he will give him one of those half-hearted bro hugs with one of his arms just to play it safe, and…

His mind started racing. That was, until he felt a light tap on his shoulder, and he turned around.

“Hi, Dan,” smiled Phil. “Hey, our shirts are matching!”

Dan knew, that in this exact moment, his plans flew out of the window. Phil’s presence was radiant, and Dan couldn’t believe his eyes that he was actually there, right here, right now. Now, what was the plan? His mind was foggy; he wasn’t sure if it was the overstimulation from all the noises and crowdedness of a busy train station, Phil’s presence, his blue eyes, or a mixture of everything. Before Dan could decide on what his next move would be in this bewildered state, Phil had already opened his arms for Dan to step in and he found himself doing exactly that. When he felt Phil's arms wrap tightly around him, he immediately relaxed, resting his chin on Phil’s shoulder, reciprocating this short, but firm bear hug. For the first time in his life, since he was a small child, Dan felt safe.

“Hi,” he said softly, feeling a smile that began to form on his lips.

---

The two of them spent that October afternoon in Manchester in each other’s presence, and Dan couldn’t help but wonder how it all felt so natural. Although this was the first time that they saw each other face-to-face, the two young men carried on as if they had known each other for ages. They got drinks at a local Starbucks and visited the Manchester Ferris wheel in Piccadilly Gardens, took selfies in a nearby Apple Store, and ended their day at the top of Cloud 23 Hilton sky bar.

“I’ve planned out so much more,” said Phil in excitement on their bus ride home to his hometown, which was not far away from Manchester. The sun had begun to set, and the two sat next to each other in a comfortable silence, watching the countryside as they passed by.

---

After Phil gave Dan a house tour, they crashed at his bedroom, which Dan knew only from his computer so far. Although a little bit messy, it still resembled Phil. However, there was something new that he didn’t recognize. There, on the floor, laid a worn-down mattress with an extra duvet.

“Oh. Brought a mattress?” Dan said, pointing at it.

“Yup,” Phil nodded, putting Dan’s backpack on the ground, which he had carried up the stairs for him. “Don’t worry, you will get the bed.”

“Phil,” Dan said. “That looks like a piece of cardboard. You can’t be serious.”

“Oh c’mon.” He waved his hand. “It’s perfectly fine. Besides, I prefer harder surfaces anyway.”

“It’s literally a piece of cardboard.”

“Hey,” Phil said, maybe a little bit offended. “Let’s watch a movie. Shall we?”

He couldn’t help but roll his eyes. After both proceeded to change into comfier clothes, Dan hopped on the bed and rolled on his stomach, while Phil sat behind his desk and turned on his laptop.

“Besides,” Phil murmured after a while, typing into the keyboard. “I changed the bedsheets if that’s what’s worrying you. So, it’s safe for you to sleep in it.” He gave him a cheeky wink.

Dan ever so slightly turned his head to the side, in an attempt to inconspicuously inhale the scent of freshly washed sheets. For some strange reason, Dan’s heart sank just a tiny bit, when he found no trace of Phil’s smell. Instead, there was nothing but the perfumed aroma of a fabric softener. Not like he could point a finger at how Phil smelled anyway; he was pretty sure that the closest thing to a fragrance that Phil ever used was a shampoo and a body spray. But to Dan, it was more than that, and it was oddly comforting. They hadn’t even spent a whole day together and yet; Dan felt like he was already obsessed with Phil’s scent. It felt like home.

“You know what,” Dan said instead, supporting his chin with one hand. His fingers traced the fabric. “At least I can tell everyone that I slept in Phil Lester’s bed.”

“Very funny,” Phil gave him a look, then turned back on his chair. “Hey, what about Kill Bill?”

“Hmm, no, this is more fun,” Dan murmured, his lips forming a tight smile. “I bet that you washed them so I couldn’t find any evidence of some unholy activities that took place in this bed.”

Dan could feel Phil’s penetrating stare.

“Unholy?” he asked in surprise. Dan couldn’t help but laugh.

He grew nervous at his sudden boldness. However, at the same time, he was so intrigued that he just had to pursue further. “That’s right. I bet you bring all sorts of dates in here.” Phil gave this sentiment a minute to think. Then he stood up and laid next to Dan, putting his laptop aside.

“Hmm… No, not to this bed, at least.”

“Oh.” His eyes grew wide, a strange feeling pooling at the bottom of his stomach. Is he taken? Phil didn’t appear to be particularly uncomfortable with this conversation, just lost in his thoughts. In the end, over Skype, they used to discuss all sorts of topics, but Phil always omitted his relationships, if he even had any.

“So… you hooked up with people before?” Dan raised an eyebrow, curiosity taking the best of him. This is okay, right? Guys always discuss their sexapades with other guys. Well, Dan had no idea, since the number of guy friends he had ever had just recently increased from zero to one, and that guy friend was lying next to him right now, in this bed. Now, Dan had his reasons why he decided not to address any of Phil’s potential partners by their gender.

He seemed to be thinking again, but his gaze shifted to the side as if already done with this conversation. “A few times.”

“A few times? Phil, you animal,” he teased.

“Dan.” Phil seemed embarrassed. So, so embarrassed, and Dan found it cute. He grabbed a pillow and buried his face in it, turning to his side. In this motion, he unintentionally cuddled up to Dan, as he bumped into his shoulder with his forehead. Dan felt shivers run down his spine.

Still in this state of shyness, Phil babbled into the pillow: “Enough about me. How is your girlfriend?”

Oh. Well, Dan for sure didn’t want the conversation to head in this direction. He turned around, now staring at the ceiling.

“To tell you the truth,” Dan scratched his head, “she dumped me over a text. Dunno why. It was out of the blue. Said it was ‘a her problem’, not me.”

Now, that was not exactly the truth – he knew damn well why. But he was not ready to discuss this with Phil, not yet at least. As he slowly put the pillow away, he met with Phil’s piercing gaze. His expression could be described only as being in a state of surprise. Phil pushed himself up on his elbow, looking directly at him, voice serious.

“Dan, I had no idea,” he said, sensing genuine hurt in his tone. Dan’s heart quivered. “I’m really sorry. Are you okay?”

Oh, fuck, Dan thought in his head. Phil appeared to be more upset than he was. He immediately turned to face him in the bed.

“Oh, no, no,” he said, apologetically, waving his hand. He gave Phil a reassuring smile. “I wasn’t in love, Phil. It’s okay.” It was hardly a relationship, he thought. If awkward teeth bumping in the back of her car on two or three different occasions even counts as a relationship.

“When did it happen?” Phil appeared to be still concerned, but partly relieved, his head falling back.

“Er.” Dan didn’t really feel like discussing his not-really-breakup with a girl who was not-really-his-girlfriend in the first place. Not because it made him upset or anything. Yes, it bummed him when he first received the text, but the reasoning was different; she was quite cool and with a great taste in music too, and Dan enjoyed talking to her sometimes. Not making out though. Or dating. Besides, except for Phil, he had nobody else to talk to. He caught himself gaping at Phil’s lips, causing him to lose himself in his thoughts.

“A week ago?” he gave a rough guess.

“Damn,” was what he said. “Bummer.”

Then, complete silence surrounded them, and for a moment, Dan forgot how to breathe, partly relieved that the girlfriend talk was over. This was different from those comfortable silences that they had experienced before since he felt out of place by having Phil so close to his body. I need to ask; I need to ask. But how do I ask him such a question without being weird?

Dan’s own heart sped up when he gathered enough courage. Now Phil’s eyes were closed, but he didn’t appear to be sleeping, either. Their foreheads were nearly touching.

“Um. Can I ask you something?” he said softly, just to be extra sure that he hadn’t fallen asleep. They were surrounded by complete darkness, the only light source coming from Phil’s laptop. He tightly grabbed the blanket spread out between them, taking a deep breath. By the way, do you happen to be gay? Hey, Phillip! By any chance, do you fancy guys? If yes, fine with me. If not, no worries, just asking. Forget it.

“Hm?” Phil hummed, keeping his eyes closed. He chuckled but it didn’t sound genuine at all. “Wanna ask me if I’m gay or something?”

Dan froze, not moving an inch. He felt his cheeks starting to burn. Maybe his heart skipped a beat, too.

After some silence, Phil sighed, and nearly whispered, his voice broken: “Dan…”

He started to panic.

“Phil. Please look at me,” he pleaded, shuffling closer.

Phil hesitantly did so.

“I don’t mind if you are. I also don’t mind if you are not. You are the only best friend I’ve ever had.”

“I was so scared, Dan,” he whispered into the pillow. “I was scared that you wouldn’t talk to me anymore if you knew…”

He is, the realization hit him.

“Oh, Phil,” Dan sighed. “Why would you think that?”

Phil hesitated again. “Not a lot of straight guys would want to hang out with a gay guy.”

His heart immediately sank. He pressed their foreheads together and closed his eyes.

“Nothing would make me stop talking to you. Ever.”

Phil seemed to relax after this. He smiled softly.

“I’m so glad,” he whispered.

But something still bothered Dan. He was glad that they were covered mostly by darkness.

“Sometimes, I just wonder…,” he swallowed, not sure if he should continue. “How it… feels like.”

“What do you mean, exactly?” Phil whispered.

Dan didn’t respond and bit his lip. Silence surrounded them yet again, interrupted only by their heavy breathing. Without thinking, Dan slowly raised his shaking hands to Phil’s cheeks and cupped them. They were burning just like his.

He might as well go insane. When he felt Phil’s hot breath on his lips, he slowly parted them, finally whispering the question.

“Can I…just…?” Dan asked with a quivering voice.

Phil swallowed heavily and nodded.

Dan didn’t hesitate. Still holding Phil’s burning cheeks, he closed the small distance that separated them.

When Dan connected their lips for the first time, Phil didn’t move an inch, keeping his eyes open in a complete state of shock, like a deer caught in the headlights. Hell, he might have stopped breathing at this point. Dan played with his slack, slightly parted lips, as Phil laid there completely still, placing a butterfly kiss on his top lip first, then the bottom. As his lips explored and toyed with something that he had never experienced before, Dan’s fingers traced Phil’s cheekbone until he reached a loose strand of his black hair, gently tucking it behind his ear. Grabbing the back of his head, Dan pressed their lips together into one, firm kiss. He felt Phil sigh in relief, eyes closing as he slowly melted into the touch. For a minute, they stayed like this, trapped in their own little world, here, on Phil’s bed. Dan felt dizzy, his head spinning. I’m in a dream, he thought. This was so much different from any sort of kiss that he had experienced with his not-so-girlfriend. She tasted like cherry lip gloss, but Phil, Phil. Phil was so delicate and tasted like heaven.

Noticing Phil’s still apparent stiffness as he only reciprocated the soft kisses he had been given, Dan separated their lips with a wet sound.

“Phil,” he whispered, stroking his cheek with a thumb. Phil looked at him with glossy eyes, both arms tucked by his side, bewildered, not knowing what to do. “You can touch me, too.”

But Phil still didn’t move, as if afraid that Dan might somehow fall apart if he touched him just ever so slightly. Dan figured that the best thing he could do at this moment was to guide him, so he slowly reached for his wrist, gently placing it on the small of his back. He felt Phil’s fingers digging into the fabric of his t-shirt as if gathering the courage that he needed. When Dan least expected it, Phil snuck his entire arm around Dan, pulling him as close as one could be in one, swift move, not leaving an inch of space between their burning bodies. This time, Phil brought his lips to Dan’s. The kiss deepened. Dan pulled on Phil’s bottom lip as if to ask for permission. His lips parted in response, sticking the tip of his tongue out, and Dan eagerly licked into his hot mouth, sighing in bliss. Feeling Phil’s arms wrapping tightly around him on each side, he flipped Dan on top of his body, separating the kiss only for a second. In complete surprise, Dan kicked Phil’s laptop off the bed.

“Shit!” Dan swore, breaking the embrace. Phil’s laptop landed on the mattress.

“Fuck, Dan,” Phil moaned, not caring one bit. “You are so good at this.”

Dan didn’t answer, and knowing that Phil’s laptop was likely fine, he eagerly connected their lips once again. Now having Dan on top, Phil’s grip on him only strengthened. Ensured that Dan was enjoying this as much as he was, his hands slowly slid down his back and cupped his bum with both hands. He squeezed, hard.

Dan couldn’t help but grunt into the kiss, and it was the sweetest sound that Phil had ever heard. He would do anything just to make him moan more. He firmly squeezed his bum again, grinding into him. Instead, Dan separated the kiss and pressed his head in the crook of Phil’s neck. Dan’s breathing got hot and heavy, and his body suddenly went limp in Phil’s arms. He was seeing stars.

“Phil,” he moaned again, his name never sounding more beautiful. He pressed their foreheads together. “Phil.”

“Dan,” he said, as to reassure him that he was still there with him. He grabbed his cheeks, feeling the sticky cold sweat that began to form on his skin. After a few seconds of being fixed in this position, Dan seemed to calm down.

“I need to,” he said, as if still trying to catch his breath, “I need to take a shower.”

“Okay, okay,” Phil babbled. “Let’s get you there.”

Dan got off him, ignoring the wobbliness of his legs, and helped him stand up by grabbing his hand. Never letting go, Phil first blindly searched for any source of light, preferably a lamp, knocking some books from his bedside table in the process. When he successfully turned the light on, he followed his lead, until Dan made a sharp turn in the hallway.

“Wha-?”

Phil felt the sudden coldness of a wall that he found himself pinned at, interrupted by yet another passionate kiss and a hot body flushed against his. When Dan let go, he looked him in the eyes.

“Phil, I think I’m going mad,” Dan panted. It was true; now that he knew what he tasted like, he couldn’t stop. Phil released the most beautiful heartwarming laugh ever and brought Dan’s lips to his once again. They found themselves to be gradually sliding down the wall where Phil was pressed, until he couldn’t stand it anymore and ended up pinning Dan down to the floor, kissing him right there and there. They couldn’t even make it to the next room.

“Dan!” Phil gasped as if he had just remembered something important, forming a string of saliva between them. “I need to tell you something.”

“What is it?” he looked up at him with glossy eyes.

“I was lying when I told you I hooked up with people before. I haven’t hooked up with anyone. I made out with a guy once at a party because it was a bet, and then immediately after that he brushed his teeth and made me brush mine too.”

A bubbly laugh escaped his lips, raising an eyebrow. “Is that so?”

He nodded softly. Dan reached for his hand and intertwined their fingers together. He put their hands on top of his chest.

“If that is the case,” he said, stroking his hand with a thumb. “I haven’t done anything with my ex-girlfriend either. Hell, she was not even a real girlfriend in the first place. Tried to pat me through the jeans once. Didn’t work out. If you know what I mean…”

“Yeah,” Phil smiled, bringing his lips close to Dan’s ear. “Now, where were we?”

Locking Dan’s hips by his knees, he made a trail of kisses down his neck.

“Phil,” he moaned again in desperation.

Phil’s lips lingered softly over Dan’s parted lips. “God, you are so hot.”

Then, he lowered himself down to suck at Dan’s collarbone. By the time he figured that he had decorated Dan’s skin with a pretty bruise, he felt a firm grasp on both of his shoulders. Dan gasped, and when he looked down at him again, his gaze was hazy.

“Phil,” he purred. “The shower…”

Somehow, just now it clicked in Phil’s head.

“Dan… Did you come?” he teased.

Dan, totally defeated at this point, covered his face, growing red as a tomato.

“Twice…now,” he moaned in despair. Death would be more merciful than this.

Phil giggled at Dan’s embarrassment. Then, he offered him his helping hand to get him back on his legs. He led him to the bathroom and gave him a fresh towel to use. Now leaning onto the doorway, he watched as Dan took off his sweaty t-shirt and threw it on the ground. When he noticed Phil’s hungry eyes, he giggled and walked towards him. Dan placed a kiss on his jawline first, and when Phil closed his eyes and yet again leaned in to capture Dan’s lips in his own, he stopped him by putting his hands on his chest, showing him back in the hallway. Then, he closed the door in Phil’s face, laughing.

What a tease.

“Unfair,” complained Phil behind the door, to his amusement.

Dan stepped out of his messy boxers and turned the shower on. For good fifteen minutes or so, he stood there under hot water with his forehead resting on the wall, contemplating whether he should rub one out or not. In the end, he decided not to and turned the temperature from boiling to freezing.

When he was done, he put his pyjama pants back on and joined Phil in the bedroom. He was sitting on the bed, also shirtless, listening to music on his phone. When he noticed Dan’s presence, he pulled his headphones out and smiled.

Dan’s cheeks warmed up, pointing to the wet curls that begun to form around his face. “My hair does that. I need to straighten it in the morning.”

“I like it,” Phil said. “It suits you.”

Still red, he stood there, not really knowing what to do next. He made a step towards his backpack and disposed of his dirty underwear somewhere. Phil’s gaze on him was undeniable, as he shuffled in his direction on the bed. Dan made another hesitant step forward.

Phil reached out his hand, opening his palm.

“Dan,” he whispered. “Come here.”

So, he did. He immediately climbed on Phil’s lap and embraced him, hard.

“You smell amazing,” Dan said to the crook of Phil’s neck, growing hot and bothered. The cold shower was completely useless, as Dan felt himself growing hard again.

“Is that so?” he asked softly, stroking his messy wet curls.

“Mmm,” he purred into his naked skin. “Phil. I need to get off of you unless you want me to dry hump you the whole night.”

Phil giggled in response. “Yeah? What if I do?”

Dan pressed his lips to Phil’s cheek, as his heartbeat sped up rapidly. He fought with every ounce in his body to not pin Phil to the bed again.

Phil leaned into the touch, closing his eyes. His hands began wandering, sliding down his back and eventually cupping Dan’s bum again.

Alarm bells started ringing in Dan’s ears.

“I’m sleepy,” he babbled, panicking. He was, in fact, not sleepy. “Let’s go to sleep.”

And just like that, he was gone from Phil’s lap. Dan slipped under the duvet on that godforsaken mattress. It was as comfortable as a pile of rocks.

“Dan!” Phil looked at him from the bed. “Come up here. I’m not letting you sleep on the floor.”

“I’m a guest in this house and it is my wish to sleep here,” he said stubbornly, his entire head covered by the duvet. “Goodnight, Phil.”

Phil smirked, reaching out to turn the light off. “Goodnight, Dan. Sleep well.”

[helena-pulido]

「 2016 」

During my summer vacation (…after excruciating exams) I got into creating and designing my own set of characters. It has always been something I had fun with but this was the first time I genuinely wrote a story and personality for each one of them!

This “universe” is based on science-fiction (I love that genre) and in a few words, I’ll try to explain the story behind it:

The Company is a multi-planetary business that controls most monetary exchanges between worlds (aka, a huge monopoly - an example would be, Buy n Large from the movie “Wall-e”)

My OCs belong to the company (apart from one character) and despite working in different departments, mostly all of them live in the same ship. - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - Let’s meet them:

Meet Lizz(ard) - 23 y.o. low-rank soldier. She was born with albinism. (quite common in her species)

-

Meet Fox - a 35 y.o. high-ranked executive, right-hand advisor. (My followers, back in 2016, were the ones that decided on the presence of a beard)

-

Meet Kolibri - a young prodigy pilot! She’s only 25 years old but already recognized as one of the best in the force.

Her species possesses this particular characteristic: folium vetero, which roughly translates to “aging with the leafs” - the meaning? the older you are, the more leafs you grow. This process usually starts around your face during teenage years.

-

Meet Leo - she’s 22 and a medium rank mechanic (number 1809). She has lost her left leg and right hand - forcing her to become ambidextrous. Furthermore, she was born with a cleft lip. (always wears googles for an unknown reason) 👀

-

Meet Sparrow - another fellow mechanic, just like Leo! However, he recently surpassed her and reached a high rank position at only 21 years of age (which not many have accomplished)

(I’ve realized I don’t have any drawings of Sparrow alone….)

I've also wrote a small story for the second photo:

December 13th, 2577, Sparrow has fallen under serious accusations of conspiracy against our own party, falsely incrimanated by a head-master, a top general if you insist. Now, we both encounter ourselves behind bars facing serious criminal charges, due to the help I gave him to escape... but we stand with a evil grin that swears justice. "Great plan!" Sparrow whispered. "Of course. Anytime..." I replied. The general took a step back in delusion and his composure loses to cold sweats. Previously, the evidences he presented in court were reason of suspense: "He stole the missing documents!! I caught him red-handed!" How did he know? How did he know Sparrow was there? And why would the general be, at the same exact time, in a old long meaningless corridor in the middle of the archives' room? Sparrow confessed me so much!... but so little at the same time. The general has a resentment against him for a curse in the past and I see secrecy in his eyes. He didn't tell me, I didn't ask. After many trials, the general persisted. He is a foolish man. Flawed predicaments fall to those who lie and cheat. Moved by resentment and impatience, he acused Sparrow for one last try and karma does it justice: there are no fingerprints in the missing papers... muddy fingerprints. When the "so-called" accused was "caught" he was searching in a dark closet for old, used pieces that we could use in our projects. Drops of dried, black oil were decorating the walls of that same closet. As the general testified, he witnessed the robbery first-handed. When he dragged Sparrow out of the archives, the guards who arrested him confirmed he wore no gloves! Plus, how is it possible for the general to be there? No-one, and I absolutely swear no-one, travels with desire through the phantom archives' room nr 51 - it is filthy, fraught with bugs and rumors about corpses. There is the strong possibily of a plan pursuit by the general... which automaticaly translates to conspiracy. We must be hopeful for the next trial and still, Sparrow, my dear, dear friend, lives under fear. Nothing, I know. He solely desires to protect me...

⬆️ This is a small comic portraying of how Leo and Sparrow met. For a bit of context, Sparrow has an engineering hobby where he enjoys to create his own gadgets. In order to peacefully work on his projects, he has found this small, semi-hidden room/basement locked away in the confinements of the ship - It’s pretty run down and slightly moldy so no one really contests it.

Before they’ve met, Leo would pass by this area after the end of her shift - that’s when she sees this figure slouching over a white board, doodling some numbers. (There’s no door) At first, she doesn’t pay much attention BUT as weeks pass by, Leo’s curiosity grows bigger and she starts to observe him from a distance (the girl is quite shy to start a conversation). Her intention? Just to know what the hell he’s working on!

One day, she gets too bold and takes a further step into the room which… proves to be her “doom”. You see, Sparrow has noticed someone “spying” on him, so he placed his glasses at the entrance to prove his point. Success! She stepped on them! Quite a stupid idea in all honesty, but at least his miopia isn’t strong - he can afford to be without his glasses for a couple of days (he can always claim to the company as a work-related incident to get a new pair for free)

Leo apologizes and assures her reasons were pure curiosity. They became friends quite quickly. Despite his mean demeanor, he likes Leo (more than *likes* further on…) and she starts helping him in his projects!

this is one of their misadventures: Bear with me… 😂 this was a stupid comic idea that I had for my OCs at the time… I never ended up doing anything out of it, however, I’m soooo glad I kept it! It’s so idiotic!! (My girlfriend loves it!!) Enjoy! 🤣

-

Meet Kat - a 26 y.o. spy. (anything else regarding her is a well-kept secret)

- Meet Pam(ther) - she’s a 27 y.o. who has recently joined the soldier ranks. People recognize her kindness and generosity… (and take advantage of her equally gullible personality) 

She also possesses a “special power” that gives her the ability to see into the future - however, her visions are often enigmatic and last mere seconds.

She’s best friends with Lizz!!

- Meet Wolf - a shady (and lazy) executive - a 25 y.o. nepo baby.

-

Meet Bee - 18 y.o. high rank mechanic.

Remember Sparrow? She’s his little sister!

They both entered the ranks of the company at the same time, 4 years ago. She was allowed to became an employee so early (normally the casting is 16+) because she’s a genius! - furthermore, she was able to became a high rank mechanic quicker than Sparrow due to her high intelligence (not to undermine her brother, Sparrow is also incredibly smart, not many are able to enter at such young age)

… to finalize, I have one more character to introduce:

Meet Andaluziite - a being made out of crystal. They are long life species and they can’t exactly be killed… merely shattered. One can easily recognize these beings due to the clusters of crystals that protrude from their skin.

They are seen as an enemy, seen as the invaders. However, this is a farce written by “The Company” to obtain sympathy and raise power to conquer their planet.

(I’ll admit it, it’s heavily inspired by Steven Universe and a lot of other sci-fis - like Avatar)

(thank you so much for reaching the end! More will posted soon!)

✁- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - My social media: AO3 | ArtStation | Cara | DeviantArt | instagram | Twitter | Wattpad | YouTube

My Shop: Etsy Store

[typical-simplelove]

On Your Right (M. Tkachuk)

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

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

Word Count: 21.4k

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Matthew Tkachuk broke your heart at the age of ten.

. . .

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"You're serious?"

"Very."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"You don't have a boyfriend?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Home?"

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

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

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

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

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

. . .

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Why are you helping her, then?"

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

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

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

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

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

. . .

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

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

Matthew: You’ll love him.

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

. . .

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Okay?”

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

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

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

“Matthew, I don’t know.”

“Yn, come on. What’s stopping you?”

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

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

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

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

“Yeah, okay. We can fake date.”

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

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

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

. . .

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Fine, whatever. Agree to disagree?”

“Sure, sure, even though I’m right.”

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

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

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

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

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

“What do you want me to say?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I do know you.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Matthew nods. “Only in public.”

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

“Matthew —” you begin.

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

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

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

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

“Mmm,” he replies looking up.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“That we do,” you reply softly.

“I didn’t hurt you, right?”

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

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

“Mmhm?”

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

“Matthew!”

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

“How does it just slip out?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Doesn’t matter.”

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

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

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

. . .

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

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

You nodded, “Yeah, that would be me.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Do you want me to kiss you?”

“Would it be awkward if we didn’t?”

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

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

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

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

“We can go to your place, then.”

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

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

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

“Yeah, it was like ten minutes.”

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

“I walk to work, Matthew.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah, I’m fine, why?”

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

“Oh, no, I’m okay.”

“Promise?” Matthew asks.

“Promise,” you reply with a smile.

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah, I know, but —”

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

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

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

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

“Why?” Matthew furrows his eyebrows in confusion.

“I just, I don’t know.”

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

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

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

. . .

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

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

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

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

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

“Whatever,” Matthew rolls his eyes.

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

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

. . .

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

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

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

“Oh.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Thanks, Matthew.”

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

“Yes?” you turn to him.

“Your hair looks really pretty.”

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

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

. . .

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Can I stay the night?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

. . .

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

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

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

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

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

“You flatter me, Matthew.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

. . .

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I show zero mercy.”

. . .

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

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

You nod. “Just scary sometimes.”

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

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

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

. . .

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

“Yeah,” you yawn.

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

“Oh, we landed?”

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

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

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

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

. . .

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

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

“Matthew —”

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

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

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

“Oh,” you mumble. “Only one bed.”

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

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

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

“What’s the verdict?” Matthew asks.

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

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

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

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

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

It would be a restful night, right?

. . .

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

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

“How were your preparations?” he asks.

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

Matthew nods.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Night, Yn.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“About half an hour?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

. . .

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

. . .

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

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

“So, you and Yn, huh?” Brady smirks.

“Don’t start, please,” Matthew warns.

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

“Can we not?” Matthew asks.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

. . .

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“And that explains his treatment of me?”

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

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

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

“The other questions are still valid, though.”

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

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

You shrug.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Are you happy?” she asks.

You nod. “Yeah, I’m happy.”

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

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

. . .

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

“So, you and Yn?” Chantal begins.

“Mom,” Matthew groans.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Why don’t you just tell her?”

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

“But you love her.”

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

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

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

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

“I’ll ask Yn,” Matthew answers.

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

. . .

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

If only it were real.

. . .

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

. . .

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Are you sitting with us?” Brady asks.

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

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

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

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

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

“You okay?” you ask.

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

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

. . .

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

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

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

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

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

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

. . .

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

“Why?” you ask nervously.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Just hanging around. Nothing much.”

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

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

. . .

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

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

“How so?” you ask.

“He’s nice,” Taryn says blatantly.

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

“I’m not wrong,” she defends.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What? No! Go sit somewhere else. I’m already sitting here,” Brady says in retaliation and annoyance. He shakes his head and mutters a comment to you asking how you put up with him. You stifle a giggle knowing that the look in Matthew’s eyes was of determination, and the ordeal wasn’t over yet.

“Brady, I said, move,” Matthew says more forcefully.

“Why can’t you sit somewhere else? You never sit here.”

“Brady, move,” Matthew growls again.

“Why don’t you sit here, Matthew?” Taryn asks, trying to diffuse the situation. It was clear that Matthew wanted to sit next to you.

“No, I want Brady to move.”

“I’m not going to,” Brady is firm in his words. “Seriously, Yn, how do you deal with him sometimes?”

You don’t say anything, but Matthew does and is still incessant on Brady moving. “Brady, move and sit somewhere else. I want to sit next to my girlfriend.”

Brady stands up and stares at his brother. Looking at Matthew’s face, Brady knows that Matthew won’t give up on his endeavor, so Brady sighs and proceeds to get up. Brady goes and sits in his old normal seat, and Matthew sits next to you. He places a glass of water on the table for himself (he already had one beer but was driving, so he had to be safe) and lemonade for you. “Thank you, Brady,” Matthew says softly once he’s situated.

Brady grumbles in reply and mutters about how annoying Matthew was. You place your hand on Matthew’s thigh and lean over to whisper in his ear, “You didn’t have to force Brady to move, you know. It’s fine if we don’t sit next to each other.”

“It’s not fine,” Matthew whispers into your ear. “I wanted to sit next to my girlfriend, so I was going to sit next to my girlfriend.”

You open your mouth to say how it was all a ruse but decide against it.

“Shall we eat?” After observing her two sons spar over a seat and Matthew melt as he whispers into your ear, Chantal finally says.

Conversation, as everyone eats, varies from the wedding from the previous night to Taryn going to college to the upcoming season to your job. You loved how normal it was and how it was like before. It felt like before you and Matthew turned ten started hating each other. It was like when you were both young and the idea of marrying each other was still a thing. It was the way life was supposed to be had Matthew not started hating you at the age of ten. As you were both eating, Matthew always had a hand on you. Whether it was on your thigh or around your shoulder, Matthew was always touching you, and his family noticed completely.

“You know, when Matthew told us you were both dating, I was truly shocked. I was surprised you would ever go for him, Yn, considering you are way out of his league,” Brady says out of nowhere and tries to get back at his brother.

“Brady,” Keith warns.

“He’s not wrong, though,” Taryn points out, not realizing the true intentions of Brady's words. “As much as I love you, Matthew, Yn is completely out of your league.”

You notice Matthew stiffening up next to you, and you place your hand on his thigh to try to calm him down.

“I’m just surprised you even gave him a chance considering Matthew hated you for like half your life.”

“Taryn,” Chantal warns. Taryn looks up at her mother and shrugs in confusion.

“I never hated, Yn,” Matthew defends. “I’m not sure where you guys are getting that from.”

“How about the fact that — ow!” Brady is stopped as Chantal kicks him under the table. An awkward silence fills the table as everyone finishes up their meals. What did Matthew mean when he said he never hated you? His actions definitely showed it. Did he still hate you? All these questions swirled in your head as Taryn volunteers you and her for clearing the table. You move in autopilot as you clear the table still trying to figure out the meaning of Matthew’s words.

“I’m sorry for my comments out there,” Taryn apologizes. “I didn’t mean to say anything hurtful.”

“Don’t worry,” you tell her with a smile. “I wasn’t offended, but I think Matthew could use an apology more than me.”

“Nah, he’ll be fine. He’s got thick skin, and it’s not like I said anything he didn’t know.”

“Mmm,” you say, not sure how to respond.

“I’ve never seen Matthew so protective over someone before. Is possessive the right word? I don’t know, but I don’t think he’s ever been like that. If he would challenge Brady to something and wouldn’t immediately get his way, then he’d just drop the subject or physically fight Brady. He didn’t do either of those things. There’s something about you, Yn, that brings out a different side to Matthew,” Taryn points out as she’s rinsing the dishes, and you place them in the dishwasher.

“Interesting,” you say, again, not sure how to respond

“It’s a good thing. You’re both good for each other.”

. . .

You and Matthew say goodbye to Chantal, Keith, Brady, and Taryn two hours later and head back to the hotel you were staying at. Chantal couldn’t understand why you guys didn’t just stay with them before you flew back to Calgary the next morning. You weren’t sure how to explain that you’re not dating her son, and you needed some time to unwind and not have to be Matthew’s pretend girlfriend for extended periods of time.

As you’re driving to the hotel, you and Matthew sit in silence. Now and then, Matthew would shift in his seat in discomfort. You could tell he was still upset from Brady’s and Taryn’s comments. You reach your hand across the center console and place it on his thigh. You hear Matthew’s breath halt at the touch, and you’re confused at the sound.

“Matthew, are you okay?” you ask softly. “Don’t take Brady’s and Taryn’s words too seriously.”

“Yeah, but —”

“Matthew, don’t,” you interrupt as he stops at a red light. He turns to you, and his heart melts at how the lights on the street illuminate your face. He nods at your words, and suddenly, he wasn’t sad or frustrated anymore. The drive continues in silence, but your hand doesn’t leave his thigh. You have one lingering thought, though. “Matthew?”

“Mmm?” he asks.

“What did you mean when you said earlier that you didn’t hate me?”

“I didn’t realize there was anything to say. I don’t hate you,” Matthew says blatantly.

“Yeah, but you did hate me.”

Matthew laughs sourly. “Why do you think that even though I’ve told you that I didn’t hate you?”

“You were such a pest to me after we turned ten.”

“That didn’t mean I hated you, Yn.”

“Then why were you such a pest?” you ask.

“Because I had a giant crush on you when we were ten.”

“You had a what?” you asked, shocked, as Matthew drives into a parking space.

“A crush when we were ten,” Matthew answers and walks out of the car. He walks over to your side and opens the door for you. You step out of the car still reeling for his confession. “Don’t worry, Yn, I don’t have a crush on you anymore, so don’t worry.”

“Good,” you reply quietly. You aren’t sure why you are so upset at Matthew’s words, but you are. Did you have a crush on Matthew, now?

. . .

You’re standing in front of the mirror placing the final touches on your makeup and hair as you get ready to fly back to Calgary. You vaguely notice Matthew sitting in the chair behind you. You figured he was looking at his phone or watching the TV that was on. You lift your eyes to glance at the boy in question. Just as your eyes meet his face, Matthew looks up, and his eyes land right on yours. You stop moving, too entranced in his gaze. Matthew sends you a soft smile, and you mirror his smile. He sends you a wink, and your eyes instantly dart away from him. You continue getting ready, and you try to ignore the heat that rushed to your face and the rapid beating of your heart.

. . .

“I brought pizza and beer, is that good?” you say as you walk into Matthew’s kitchen. It was his first night back in Calgary since you said goodbye at the airport after the wedding, and he wanted to spend the night with you.

“That’s perfect,” he says and takes everything out of your hands.

You take your shoes off and walk further into this apartment. “Oh, looks like you cleaned.”

Matthew looks around the apartment and scratches the back of his neck. He turns to you, and you see a slight blush lining his cheeks. “Yeah, well, no one likes to live in a pigsty.”

You raise your eyebrow at his words. “What version of Matthew is this? The high school version of Matthew had the most disgusting bedroom ever.”

“Oh, shut up,” Matthew rolls his eyes and throws a napkin at you. You swat at it and begin to giggle. Matthew takes a piece of pizza and places it on a plate for you and opens a bottle of beer for you. You take it out of his hands with a soft “thank you” and walk over to his kitchen table. He places his plate and beer on the table and places his hands on your hips; your breath catches in your throat at his touch, and Matthew swears his heart started to beat a hundred times faster at the sound. He guides you towards the couch. “We’re sitting on the couch to eat.”

“But, Matthew,” you say after regaining your voice. You watch him grab his beer and plate from the table where he placed it and sits next to you.

“Nope, we’re not at Yn’s house. We’re at Matthew’s house, so we eat on the couch when we’re having a movie night.”

“Matthew,” you begin again.

He shakes his head as he takes a sip. “Don’t. I can’t eat this once training camp and the season starts, so let’s just enjoy it, okay?”

You nod and take a bite out of your pizza. Why did your breath hitch out of your throat when Matthew touched you? He’s touched you before, but why was it different this time?

. . .

“How about these?” Matthew asks as he holds a bag of chips in front of your face.

You shake your head. “I don’t like that flavor, and I already bought a bag of chips.”

“Maybe you should buy them for me, this lovely person who you forced to go grocery shopping with you.”

“That is not what happened, Matthew, and you know that,” your point out.

Matthew walks over to you and entraps you from where you’re standing at your shopping cart. He places his hands on the bar on your sides so you can’t move. He leans his head towards your ear and whispers, “Then tell me what happened.”

“You know what happened,” you murmur, trying to hide the fact that Matthew’s actions and words were sending chills down your spine.

“But I want you to tell me,” he whispers again into your ear.

“You showed up at my apartment just as I was about to leave,” you swallow before continuing, “and you insisted on coming with me, and here we are.”

“I don’t recall that being how it happened,” Matthew says against your neck, and the vibrations warm your entire body. You figure if Matthew was going to mess with you in the middle of the snack aisle at the grocery store, you might as well do the same. You wrap your arms around his neck and pull his face closer to yours. Your lips are micrometers from his, and you can tell that Matthew is nervous.

“That’s exactly how I remember it happening,” you say against his lips and with each word you said, your lips touching Matthew’s. Out of instinct and preparation for a kiss, Matthew places his hands on your waist, and you smirk, knowing you have him right where you want him. You run your hands up through his hair, and Matthew’s hold on you becomes limp. You lean closer, if possible, to him, and Matthew thinks you’re going to kiss him. Just when you would’ve leaned forward and kiss Matthew, you pull back and escape from where Matthew has you entrapped. You’re standing a few feet away from him, and you notice Matthew still in his trance. “You coming?”

That seems to take him out of his trance, and he nods and pushes the shopping cart to follow you. Matthew isn’t sure what happened, but he knows that whatever did just happen sent Matthew to heaven.

. . .

“What are you wearing?” Taryn asks you when you sit down next to her.

“Oh, this old thing?” you say, pretending to be oblivious.

“Matthew’s going to hate it considering you’re his girlfriend, who the Flames are playing, and what you’re not wearing.”

“I’m counting on it.”

“You are such a pest like Matthew. No wonder you guys are so good to each other,” Taryn rolls her eyes.

“You’re lucky we won or you’d have hell brought down upon you,” Matthew says when you’re standing outside the locker room after the game.

“I didn’t know you knew the devil personally,” you joke.

“Why did you have to wear Brady’s jersey, Yn? The day that I play the Sens, you are wearing the wrong brother’s jersey.”

You shrug but have a knowing smirk on your face. “I felt like it.”

Matthew groans when he sees Brady walking over to you and him. “Nice jersey,” Brady smirks.

“Thank you. Too bad you guys lost.”

“Seriously?” Matthew’s mouth’s agape.

“Oh shut up, you know I cheered for you when you scored,” you say and link arms with Brady as you head towards Chantal and Keith. “It worked. I pissed him off,” you whisper to Brady.

“You guys are so weird,” Brady chuckles. Matthew just stands behind you and Brady and is trying to figure out what just happened and how he’s going to get back at you.

. . .

When you showed up to the Senators-Flames game wearing Brady’s jersey, Matthew knew he had to think of a way to get back at you. After a week-long road trip and coming home at 2 am, Matthew wanted nothing more than to go home and sleep. He also wanted nothing more in the world to see you and to get back at you. When he got in his car to drive home, Matthew realized he had the perfect plan to get back at you. He knows that something you value deeply is your sleep, so because you messed with something important to Matthew, he was going to mess with something important to you.

Matthew drives to your apartment from the airport and parks in the parking spot next to your car. He isn’t sure why he thought you didn’t have a car and why you don’t drive it to work, but here your car is. He walks into the lobby of your building and waves to the nightguard working the night shift. He takes the elevator up to your floor and walks up to your door. He takes a deep breath and begins to aggressively ring your doorbell. He hopes that you wake up and none of your neighbors do.

The ringing continues for twenty seconds before you realize it’s not your alarm. You sit up for a few moments when you realize that it’s someone at the door. When the ringing doesn’t stop, you get worried that something’s wrong. You rush over to the door and open it. “Is everything okay?” you blurt out before noticing who’s the one ringing your doorbell.

“No, I have a very important message for you,” Matthew says with a smirk grazing his face.

“What happened? Is everything okay?” you’re worried now. You’re still barely awake, and if you were, you probably would have noticed the smirk on Matthew’s face.

“It’s an important message. Ready for it?”

“Yeah, yeah, just tell me!”

“Hi.”

“Hi? That’s it? Matthew, you rang my door like a lunatic and made me worry that something was seriously wrong. What’s wrong with you?”

“You wore Brady’s jersey to my hockey game.”

“So you decide to pull this shit?” you’re angry now, and Matthew realizes he made a mistake.

“I’m sorry. I also wanted to see you,” he mumbles.

You sigh and pull him into your apartment. “Then call me instead of halfway giving me a heart attack.”

Matthew nods and follows you into your apartment. He puts his bag down by the door and takes his shoes off.

“I’m going back to sleep, but you can change and shower in my washroom and join me when you’re ready. I’m not staying awake; I’m too tired.”

Matthew is shocked that you’re doing this. Matthew woke you at 2 in the morning just because and you’re opening your home for him despite it. Matthew will never take your friendship for granted ever again.

. . .

“Matthew, are we still fake dating?” you ask out of nowhere. It’s been months since the wedding, and you weren’t sure if you and Matthew still had that title. Recently, you both had been hanging out together, but it didn’t seem like “dating”. It was “friend” hangouts, and you were both disappointed and happy with it.

“Why do you ask?” Matthew asks. He doesn’t want to fake date you anymore; he wants to real date you, but he isn’t sure if you want that, too.

“Because,” you hesitate.

“Because, why?”

“I went out with some friends the other night and this guy was hitting on me, and I turned him down because I didn’t know if we were still under the ruse of dating.”

“Oh,” Matthew says dejectedly. “Don’t worry, if you see him, or anyone else, who’s hitting on you, then you can say yes. We, as of this moment, are just friends and no longer fake dating.”

You nod. “What do we tell people? Like, Shelly or your family?”

Matthew shrugs. “We realized we were better off friends. We went from the extreme of not being able to be around each other to the extreme of always being around each other and realized it doesn’t work.”

“Okay,” you say. You weren’t sure why you were so upset with Matthew’s response.

After the conversation, you head home about an hour later with your head still reeling from Matthew’s words. Just friends, he said, but you didn’t want that, did you? You wanted Matthew in every way that you could. You wanted him next to you when you woke up and when you fell asleep. You wanted good morning kisses, good night kisses, and just kisses in between that. You wanted Matthew because you liked him. You wanted Matthew because, in the months of fake dating, you fell for him. You fell for Matthew Tkachuk, the one boy you never thought you’d fall for, and the one boy who doesn’t want you like that.

. . .

You went out with Matthew and the team to celebrate another win. This time, you wore Matthew’s jersey, and you swore Matthew’s smile grew wider when he saw you in it. The celebration at the bar thus far has been fun. You weren’t sure if the team knows you and Matthew “broke up”, but it doesn’t matter because Matthew was still being touchy with you, and you hoped that you were hiding your feelings for Matthew well.

“I’m going to go get some refills for us, okay? Same drink for you?” Matthew whispers into your ear. You visibly shiver at his action, and you know Matthew noticed. You nod, not trusting your words. To try to ignore how you’re feeling, you immerse yourself in conversation with the group. It works, you think, but when you look up and see the back of Matthew’s head, your heart begins to beat rapidly. You needed to figure out how to get your emotions in check if you’re going to continue to be hanging out as friends with Matthew.

“So, you and Matthew have been going strong, huh?” Annica says when she notices you staring at Matthew. You snap your attention back to the woman. Matthew must not have told the team that you and he “broke up”. You guess that would be a weird conversation to have. You doubted Matthew said something along the lines of, “Yes, we broke up, but I’m going to keep bringing Yn around. Why? Well, we were never really dating, and now we are just friends. Yeah, it’s weird, but just go with it.”

“Oh, um, yeah,” you reply, hoping that Annica didn’t read too much into your words.

“I can tell he’s crazy about you and that he —,” Annica is interrupted by Elias bringing her another glass of wine and conversation changes. You look back at Matthew to try to figure out the meaning of Annica’s words. Just as your eyes land on Matthew’s head, he turns around, as if sensing your gaze, and meets your eyes. He smiles at you, and you instantly feel the tears falling from your eyes. You try to blink them away, but when Matthew begins to rush over to you, you know that he noticed. You excuse yourself from the group and rush out of the bar.

“Yn, yn,” Matthew calls out to you. He catches up to you with his long strides and places his hand gently on your shoulder. You turn to face him and feverishly wipe the tears away. “Yn, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” you lie.

“I didn’t know we cry over nothing now, but thanks for letting me know,” Matthew jokes, but it doesn’t do anything to make you feel better. “What’s wrong?”

“I can’t be your friend anymore; it just hurts too much to be your friend when I want more,” you blurt out and walk away. Matthew is too stunned at your words to follow after you. You want more? Since when? Matthew doesn’t come to his senses to chase after you until you’re getting into your car to drive home. What does he do now?

. . .

“Yn, yn, yn, I know you’re in there,” Matthew yells as he aggressively knocks on your apartment door the next day. “Yn, please. I just want to talk to you.

You angrily stalk to the door and open it. “What, Matthew? Maybe you should have taken a hint when I didn’t open the door the first eighteen times you knocked on it.”

“Yeah, well, we need to talk, so it doesn’t matter if I was knocking on your door for hours, I’m going to talk to you.”

“Matthew, there’s nothing to say,” you tell him through gritted teeth hoping not to let it show how much you wanted to cry at that moment.

“Like hell, there’s nothing to talk about,” Matthew aggressively replies as he runs his hands through his hair. “You can’t just say that and leave, you know. You’ve had me going crazy, Yn!”

“Well, it’s not like you feel the same way or want the same thing,” you mumble, looking at the ground.

“Are you kidding me? I’ve wanted this since I was ten!” Matthew replies incredulously.

“But you told me you didn’t like me anymore!”

“That’s because I thought you didn't like me like that.”

“Well, I do like you like that, Matthew.”

He takes a step closer to you and looks into your eyes. “That entire time we were fake dating? I was imagining it was real. I was doing everything in my power to make it real so that I could have that experience of being with you because I thought I’d never had a chance with you. Like my parents said, you are completely out of my league, so I was extremely honored that you ever wanted to fake date me.”

“I don’t want to fake date you.”

“I don’t want to fake date you, either,” Matthew chuckles.

“Oh, good,” you reply and look down at your feet. “I want to be your real girlfriend.”

Matthew laughs at your words. “That’s what not wanting to fake date means.”

“Oh, right,” you giggle at yourself.

“So, if I put my hands on your waist and kiss you, is that okay?”

“That’s more than okay, Matthew,” you tell him with a smile and place your hands on his face to bring him closer to you. Matthew smiles at your words and leans his head towards yours. You both softly placed your lips on each other before deepening the kiss. It wasn’t the first kiss you both shared, but it was the first time you kissed each other with your feelings on display. You both deepen the kiss, and Matthew pulls you into him. You run your fingers through the hair at the nape of Matthew’s neck, and you giggle at the small moan that leaves him. His moan and your giggle cause you both to pull back. Matthew gives you a pointed look.

“Great, our first kiss ends like that.”

You giggle again. “It’s not our first kiss, Matthew.”

“Still,” he pouts.

“Don’t worry,” you tease. “There will be many, many kisses in our future.”

“I’m going to hold you to that,” Matthew says with a grin and pulls you in for another kiss.

The get-together wasn’t perfect or what anyone expected, but it was your story, and you wouldn’t have it any other way.

[yostresswritinggirl]

Tales of The Ghost Writer

“You met Xingqiu at Wanwen Bookhouse when delivering a batch of your newly-published book. But as a ghost writer, no one knew it was you that authored such books. Safe to say it was cute watching the noble bookworm fanboy about you in front of you.”

Pairings -> Xingqiu x Author!Reader

Word Count -> 3518

Theme -> Long Fic, Fluff

Series -> #Bonafide specials (100 followers event)

Warnings -> Xingqiu's name might be mispelled at times, also he rambles a lot

Entry Log # 645:

I’ve once again delivered the new batch of books to Wanwen Bookhouse today at 4PM, 30 new books in collection to be sold. That would add up to a total of 420 published books for Legend of the Lone Sword. Despite its old circulation, collectors and avid bookworms still seek out the volumes. In a spur of the moment thought, the 4th volume was finally rereleased for more readers to get a chance to read them. While on my rounds, I’ve met a particularly peculiar fan.

“4th volume?” You nod as you set down the stack of books on the counter where Jifang stood behind with a welcoming smile. “Thank you, everyone has been asking about it for a while now. I don’t understand how people keep missing out on the last volume like so.” There was an exchange of giggles between you continued your idle chatter, busying yourself with recounting the stack to make sure the order placed was exact. Yep, 30.

You picked one up from the top pile as Jifang enters the bookhouse to gather the payment. It wasn't that much of a feat to carry a pile of 30 books when it's only this thick, you thought as you opened the book in the middle and... buried your nose in it, literally. Archons, the scent of freshly printed books had always been such a stress reliever of a kind. The imprints were still fresh as you run your thumb over the pristine white page of page 75, the gravings of the letter bumping it in such an intricate and endearing manner. You suppose it should be prime time you get a copy of your own-

"Ah, the glorious scent fresh books offer are quite irresistible to everyone," your head whipped to the side in a hurry at the embarrassing display. Yet your new company only offered a light-hearted laugh, floaty and flowing swiftly past his lips. You find it enjoyable to listen to. "Fret not, I don't judge such honest guilty pleasure."

His smile was soft and respectful as you return it, watching his hand (wrists largely ruffled) pick up the next book on the pile, his interest shining the more he recognizes the the piece of literature. Such expensive clothing and poise, you thought as you continued to inspect. "I knew Wanwen had a schedule of new releases today, but I was not informed it would be the 4th volume of the Legend of the Lone Sword!"

"A fan?" You mused as you placed back the copy you took, leaning against the counter as you watched him quickly scan the lines of the book. He was intensely staring at every word with such a calculating gaze, that sometimes break when he reads how the character would sometimes reach an impasse, or when a new discovery reaches its peak. His ardent gaze was enough of an answer. When he took a break from reading to pass you his attention, you hadn't realize how red your cheeks had been out of embarrassment. "I've always wanted to get my hands on my own copy of the 4th, yet everytime all bookhouses in Liyue keep running out of stock. Is delivery normally this scarce?" He'd gestured at the not so looming pile.

You nod in response with a forgoing giggle. "Publishing could be running into some... shortness of funds?" Subtle, yet he hums in disappointment at the thought. His little pout, adorable, as he buries his face in the book again. I would gladly fund such glorious writing, you thought you heard past the leather back before the ornate doors past the counter finally opened again.

"Ah sorry it took so long, I couldn't find the exact pouch for the- hey! You again, you've read and been scolded dozens of times already," the woman angrily gestures to the notice board by the table, "Pay first, read later!"

You snorted, thankfully masked by the sudden cry of the caught culprit as he was smacked (hopefully gently) on the head by the owner, forcing him to put back the book to the pile. "Hnghh, but Lady Jifang! You didn't scold her, she was indulging herself with the book just the same," you breathed a fake gasp of astounded betrayal, before you three had laughed in chorus.

The oldest of your trio scoffed in amusement as she placed the bag of Mora unto your waiting hand. "What, her? Why would I scold her, she probably knows every word like the back of her ha-" her rambling was then cut off by a loud smack on her bottom, a book expertly finding its way back to your hand with a perfectly cut smile. Her yelp was not unnoticed by the male as he laughs at the display.

"Let him be, he's really been patiently waiting for the release!" Jifang scoffs at the word patiently as you came to the defense of blunette. You were never really aware of the norm in Wanwen, as you usually come by at a time where you would have been alone. This was a first.

"Quite so! Just the start of the volume had me hooked, setting for the peak of the story climax! The synopsis itself already hinted of another inclusion of a new element into the story I had not expected from this style of a book, surely such a writer would not tread such parallel territory without being an expert teller-" Jifang watched in amusement as her gaze lands on you at the start of the bookworm's rambling, watching the redness touch the tip of your ear with an abashed smile shyly gracing your lips. Behind it she can see the mirth and amusement, something she outwardly shows with her own expression.

"Wow," was the Liyuean woman's only response once the speaker has finished his lengthy speech. His dorkiness stands with pride at his examination.

You cleared your throat before you could mutter your initial words, finally realizing the time. "That was... quite marvelous of an analysis. A-Anywaysss, thank you for your partnership, I hope the books are all sold by tomorrow!"

And with that you swiftly made your exit, wanting to find a place to scream the embarrassment out. Or maybe squeal, just to be subtle.

Entry Log # 15:

As a distant relative to the Guhua clan, the (L/N) clan was not exactly known to be tied closely to the prestigious clan known for their expert martial. However, despite the impure connection, they carry with them still the honor of learning the arts to a meticulous detail.

Your family was one of the living practitioners of the Guhua Arts, twice removed, yet your spotlight was not that obvious as the name would carry. Your father wish to carry a new kind of prestige without relying on the powerful namesake and he had been adamant since birth to grind every teaching and form of the art into his immediate family.

"Misogyny nor feminism will not save you from battle, only your own strength." Something along those lines, was what he said.

Your eldest brother was his main point of reference when scolding you on not taking your lessons properly. A slacker he is, now he lacks not only a means of security but also financial stability, that's what you end up to if you don't treasure the arts of our family. You have no idea how martial arts brings you monetary security, but you can't really state to your own father that his logic was a bit skewed.

Daily during morning and the first touch of evening, you had resigned yourself into training under your father's supervision. As the eldest daughter of the house, you carry with you still a responsibility to be strong. No fraility was accepted, and your mother always argues about your father's ever so masculine lifestyle being imposed on you, a lady that should be taught other customs for means of living.

Yet after every session, at the end of the day under the caress of the lamp by your study table, your hands move with precision and calmness he would have scoffed at in the dojo. The beauty of words and their power to create new worlds effortlessly had drawn you in too easily, ever since you were young you had a knack for the books your mother reads to herself or to you.

Entry Log # 651:

The next time you'd met the Wanwen Bookworm (nickname you gave) was a rare moment when he'd finally looked at you more than the book in his hand. It seemed your little interaction from the bookhouse was attention-grabbing enough to make him seek out your person with a bunch of questions and wonder.

You gulped, patting down your blue skirt before accompanying him. The way he rambles was too dangerous, it was drawing something within you to also do the same, and you feared you may let out something you shouldn't. But a fellow 'reader' is good company, and with the little interactions you had with the same age group with the same interest makes this moment something you can't pass.

"Carrier to the Yae Publishing House?" You nodded calculatedly, after confirming you've said just the right information. "Quite intriguing, especially with such young age to be working in line with the greatest press house in Teyvat." Ohhh, he's surely smart despite the first impression of goofiness.

You giggled as politely as you can remember you should upon the scarce teachings of your mother. "I've always liked literature so I couldn't uhm let the opportunity pass, even if it's insignificant like that." Good, good, piling up the lies. You're grateful you haven't made some contract of friendship and happen upon the wrath of your nation's God. Or Qixing.

"Surely, you must have been in the presence of some of the wordsmiths during your rendezvous! So tell me," there was a dangerous glint in his eyes and you knew exactly what he's gonna ask, "Have you met the legendary Bob Ong?"

Oh goodness, you felt him caress and pat your back as you tried your best to breathe after the sudden choking on nothing, he was so spot on that you were horrified even if you had an inkling of what he was gonna inquire. "I uhm I don't really know what I'm allowed to say." In the inside you were goddamn screaming.

"You don't have to tell me anything about him, really! It's his mystery that makes his character just the most intriguing." You gulped down hard, this time without choking out of nothing. "I don't really know much about who he is since he's, you know, unknown? No clues whatsoever, he could be anywhere right now, maybe you've talked to him already or no. Yeah?"

He held a convincing hum before taking in the cryptic answer, content, for now you assume. "Not many avid readers of the book can place a name to the unnamed author, but how blind they were to see the cryptic signature at the back of the cover. Truly a wonderous act." Xingqiu, you finally learned his name, had took you out to lunch for the trouble and enjoyment. It wasn't really necessary, but you figured it was probably to keep you with him longer to converse about the books more.

A lot of his... analysis actually coincide with the messages that you lodged between the lines. He understands your way of narration more than you do at times, and you were left wondering just how much he had read of the fourth volume despite only having it for a few days then. When evening once again struck, you had bid each other farewell in the promise of another time to hang.

"It's a literature of love and freedom- disguised as a martial arts novel." Was his parting analysis, and you were left to wonder, was that really what you had projected into your works?

Entry Log # 32:

In your young and hopeful mind, you'd sent your first ever manuscript to Yae Publishing House. It wasn't your first work but it was the one you worked hard on the most, with weeks of furbishing and reworks. Your mother, although not directly informed of your whole plan, had provided you with great feedback and generous suggestions. And soon you created the first manuscript of 'String of Pearls'.

With a generous note and what you hoped is enough mora to at least publish a book, your package was sent to Inazuma.

You waited for days, of which turned to weeks, and then to months. You thought by the end of it all, you had been swindled but as young as you still hoped for the best of its outcome.

And then one day, as you were sweeping the outside of your gates in preparation for your father's return from some business in the harbor, a lone man of Inazuman style found its way to your humble abode. He calls himself Mr. Nine, and in his arms cradled two similar looking books, with a familiar envelope.

That was when you had been given the opportunity to write for the greatest Publishing House under the guise of a pseudonym. The great Nine was astounded by your ripeness paired with your prowess in writing. You hid behind Bob Ong, a protection from being belittled as a young child and a woman, to prevent being traced by your father if ever.

Yet you remained as subtle still. Even if your name was not written on the covers themselves, within your heart you were still the writers of those books. You've placed anagrams and mysterious puzzles revealing your name but it was part of the intrigue of the story that they had not thought much about it.

One day, you lost your book when you had gone out to eat. It was the second copy, as you carried the first one in your room, yet it still held a special place in your heart.

Xingqiu was a master novelist too, as you'd expect from someone so enthusiastic on the art of literature too. You'd long since become friends and found out soon enough his true identity. The heir to the Feiyun Commerce Guild, master practitioner of the Guhua Clan Arts, soon to be novelist. He was in every aspect the better half between you two.

One day in his daily reading breaks where he would happen upon you, he had found his eyes wafting over your notebook that you always carry. It was designed to look like a hard bound book specially tailored to your tastes, but it was nothing but mere keepers of your notes and musings.

Your newest page had in it a brand new draft for a brand new story you wanted to flesh out before the success of Legend of the Lone Sword diminishes. Mr. Nine still praised you for the success of your first major publishing and had assured you that there's no need to immediately compensate with another work so early, but your mind was already so eager to work. Your friend had never seen you so- flamed and passionate as the paper caves to the intense pressure your pencil places on it.

So he leans on your shoulder slightly (glad you were still distracted) as he quietly reads the words that articulates on the paper. The more Xingqiu reads, the more he craves, just the same vigor he felt everytime he had read his favorite works when each chapter invigorates him to continue to the end.

"Such a great outline," the blunette breathes out as he leans his cheek at the crown of your head. You let out a cute squeak when you'd finally come to, and turned your head to face him- "I didn't know you were into romance, my liege. Tell me, just where do you get such inspirations?" Your nose softly collided against the smoothness of his cheek, your lips ghosting over the line that is his jaw.

You scrambled backwards to direction opposite of his, yet with his body weight leaning on you, his center of balance quickly shifted on your weight like a net being pulled against the sides of a boat. You both toppled over.

"My, my, I didn't expect such abrupt resistance from you," Xingqiu's arms caged you as it holds him up against the grassland on either side of you. There was a certain mischievous glint in the ocean that is his eyes, which only meant one thing. "No need to be shy," you closed your eyes shut as his face leans in closer to yours, fanning over the frame of your face as he lets out a warm yet teasing exhale, "I'm sure we've gone past our personal bubbles in this relationship." You felt his chest against yours and braced for the inevitable-

as he finally licked your nose(?).

What.

"X-XINGQIUUUUU!" And then a cry of pain after a particularly harmful blow.

Entry Log # 659:

Xingqiu had always been a man of great words despite his chicken scratch of a penmanship. Vivid tales of his manuscript that I'm sure the Publishing House would take great value for, his years of memorizing numerous works in his arsenal. He told me that if I were to one day publish the manuscript, he wants to get the first copy and the first to get it signed. However Xingqiu has one glaring weakness when it comes to the art of words. When I asked him what would be a good title for the manuscript I made, he simply said, "Tales of the Writer!" And he sent a goofy smile. I thought he was joking, and I asked again, this time of what his work would be named. He replied:

"Why, Legend of Sword, of course!" He really sucks at titles.

Entry Log # 660:

Upon returning home with my new work ready to be shipped off for mass publishing, I've finally confronted my father. I had with me the final volume of my first work and offered it to him as first a gift of reconciliation, and my father took it with a mirthful glint in his eyes. He said he has been looking for the last volume of the series he'd been wanting to complete. I... I didn't know father was a fan.

The climax of my entire double-life ended so peacefully and tragically meh. I was expecting a martial arts fight of honor that will go down in history, but instead I ended up signing my own book as my father gushed about how nicely I illustrated the martial arts teaching we had during our sessions. I did not sleep well that night.

October 9th was a day celebrated by others more than the young master Xingqiu. The pavilion was mixed in with people from different walks of life and of faces he doesn't necessarily recognize. He lingers by the open window that shows the grandeur balcony, beckoning him outside. Today was a scheduled new release for Wanwen Bookhouse, and he had heard several chatters from the citizens that a new series would be published hailing from Yae Publishing House once again.

And the virtuoso of literature cannot attend such important matter himself because of his own birthday. How irking, you weren't even there to help appease his grumbling, you should have been here by now upon his invitation.

Suddenly the master of invitations bellowed out a familiar name, as his job to announce the entrance of the invited guests to the banquet. When he looks up, you were already walking down the grand staircase in your creme and blue Hanfu garb, accompanied by a tall man of a different wear—

"(Y/N), M-Mr. Nine-!" He bowed politely to the man as you curtsied at his presence. You looked absolutely dashing yet the man towered your form easily. "It's my honor to finally meet you, sire."

"Happy birthday, Xingqiu, I've heard many great things about you," the blunette opened his hands to receive the book gifted by the man. It had a familiar cover and title to it, Legend of Sword, "Great things, in fact, that there would too be great things to discuss later on." The Inazuman graced him a smile and he almost teared up at the implications, if not for when the author suddenly nudged you forward from your demure state.

Tales of the Ghost Writer

"X-Xingqiu, happy birthday! This is uhm, I've always wanted to- I wanted to give you this myself, I know you'd miss the first batch of releases," an unfamiliar book sits on his palm now. A plume and sword adorning its cover but no title, he shifts his hand to open it to the first page, "You said you wanted its first copy be signed, and I thought it appropriate to be given now at such a special occasion."

There in fresh print and ink he'd finally been revealed the mysteries he had long been searching for.

Against the translucent paper it was written and signed,

Tales of The Ghost Writer

Bob Ong, (Y/N)

@creation-magician @your-local-venti-simp @boxofteenageideas @indigodreamtime47

[cannibal-witchh]

Reader(Fem) x Alcina Dimitrescu

(PART 2)

Written by cannibal_witchh

Part 1

:https://cannibal-witchh.tumblr.com/post/641589115086929920/readerfem-x-alcina-dimitrescu-part-1-written

⛓Trigger Warnings⛓

Story contains: Gore, sexual elements, vulgar language, violence, elements of sub/dom behavior, and captivity.

Notes: This is the 2nd part of the story and it will progressively get more sexual, and the elements between the reader and Alcina will become more dom/sub. It is a little bit of a slow burner so bare with me. It will get juicy soon! I want to add, I do not support in any fashion abuse, and or non consensual actions. ⚠️ I have clearly placed trigger warnings to indicate there may be elements that are not for every reader. I heavily gravitate with dominance and submission/gore so thats where the relationship in the story will go ⚠️ Again, limited information so nothing in the story really is canon.

The reader is referred to as:

Y/N- your name

Y/L/N- your last name

She/her- in italics and bold

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Her blood boiled as she felt the weight of humiliation and rage filter through her. She was in poor shape, bloodied up, bruised, and very little hope could be found within her. She stared at Alcina with a hateful expression, but the vampress had full awareness beneath that thin surface of loathing was absolute fear. "Don't be foolish. I will not say it again.", she continued a smirk as she rested her elbows up on the edge of the bath. Even in absolute indecency she was wicked and intense. Her body at full exposure, water glistening off her porcelain skin, and gentle beads of water trailing down her breasts. The moon was illuminating off her soft tall figure, as she tipped her head back and relaxed it on the edge. "I think I've been more than patient with you."

Y/N, had so many emotions cycling through her, there was disgust, hatred, and anxiety. But she had concluded that there was no point in stalling. Alcina would grow tired and eventually kill her if she wasted anymore time. She began to strip, peeling an article of clothing at a time, trying desperately to cling on to every second. Her hands trembling as she slid her panties down her ankles before the wicked vampire.

She submerged her body in the warm water, blood began to scatter out from her knee, and she watched fragments of the water become crimson. Fuck. "Relax, I'm not a shark. I can smell your wonderful nectar but I have no need to feed at this exact instance just because you're coloring my bath water red.", she teased pulling her head up. Loose black waves stuck to her wet skin, spreading out like a small web on her smooth pale skin. Her intense bright eyes focused on Y/N, her eyes looked so preditorial, and so hungry. Those eyes burned deep in Y/N's soul, it was haunting.

After about forty minutes of soaking and cleansing, Alcina decided to privilege Y/N by showing her the cellar room. She held a lit candlabrum guiding them deep inside. It smelled foul, there were variations of fresh corpses everywhere, limbs lost in other areas of the large hallway, and it was incredibly dark. The walls and floor were built with thick cobblestone, and there were numerous cellars with rusted bars. " Now, I believe I have treated you kindly with allowing you to stay in an actual guest room.", she said as she continued to lead Y/N deeper into the cellars. Abruptly, an incredibly dry groan echoed through the cellar, it sounded as if it was in absolute suffering and pain. Y/N darted her head in the direction she believed it came from but it was too difficult to really distinguish actually where it sounded. " Relax, I won't allow them to touch you.", she assured as she stopped and turned to face her. "Those are family.", she stretched a pearly grin, her fangs teasing under her satin red lips. Alcina instructed with just her hands for Y/N to come closer to her, and she obeyed the demand. "You look much better being cleaned up, pet.", that name alone flooded a pool of humiliation in her, being stabbed, bitten, and beaten countless times to this nonsense- it just delivered a wave of embarassment to her. Alcina let out a soft giggle, and for moments there wasn't words being exchanged.

Thud! With swift impact, there was a heavy hit that landed to Y/N's head, and she flew several feet back away from Alcina. She tried to gather herself but her vision grew blurry, and her knee still in poor condition to make quick movements. Dwindling in and out of clear vision, the sounds of agonizing groaning reverberated through the corridor infront of her. She felt shivers, hair raise, and another dose of adrenaline greet her. What could this be? Within moments, a strong smell of decay flooded through the damp cobblestone hallways, and echos of pain continuing to sound. A group of corpse like creatures swayed in, their bodies detierating, bones exposed, long sharp aged nails, and hollow dark eyes. Her family. Absolute horror welcomed Y/N, Alcina had lied, she wasn't going to protect her. The creatures began to hobble towards her, surrounding her, their stench choking her, and their groans ringing in her ear. She was fucked, no available escape was present for her to attempt. She closed her eyes and she felt the stroke of long thin nails brush against her face and arms. Felt the cold breath of their hissing near her ears, as she tried to control her panic. This was it. "Enough!", Alcina screeched, and immediately the creatures shrieked and fled away in the tunnels. She relaxed her hands on her hips and walked over to Y/N with a pleased expression. " This is what will become of you but worse if you do not submit to me. Do we have ourselves clear?", Alcina watched as Y/N nodded trying to control her panicked breaths, and maintain her shivering. "Good."

Without effort, Alcina had carried Y/N in her arms all the day back to her captive room. When they arrived, she locked the door, and rested Y/N on the sheets. Y/N felt some release of tension the moment she establish this was her room. She spread her arms out, tracing the creases of silk that collected under her. The presence of the fabric brought her slight comfort. "Honestly, you truely are pathetic.", she sighed as she sat the candlabrum on the wooden nightstand beside the bed. Y/N felt beside her sink, Alcina had sat beside her and began to run her fingers through her hair. Despite the cruel treatment, this minor kindness felt relieving to Y/N. She let out a small sound of relief as Alcina continued to lace her fingers through her hair. "I feel despite some tension, you have gathered an understanding of your place as my feeding pet. I appreciate that submission. I have mutually contributed. I awaited feeding until you were cleansed and in the comforts of your room.", a sharp spike danced in Y/N's stomach, she felt acidity well up, and her knee twitch with discomfort. It was time.

This time, Y/N did have opposition towards the situation this time. She fully gave in to the unfortunate circumstances. Her pants were removed, revealing a blackened knee with blood stains feathering out from the site. "I'm quite surprised how quickly you've adapted to your position to me. I have to admit, I am pleased with you.", Alcina leaned to her side, hovering over Y/N's wounded knee, her large breasts nearly spilling out from her nightgown. The closer she leaned towards her knee, the more her alluring breasts pressed gently against Y/N. "Despite my daughters, I have control over my hunger. I will treat you well, and I will know how to savor you slowly.", she looked down at her knee and let out a sound of disappointment. "So much for being patient. Its scabbed. I suppose I will make a new feeding site."

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"My f-femoral atery?", Y/N muttered as she felt her cheeks grow hot. A major artery, not even her daughters had fed on. The violent feeding they did more than likely would've killed her if they attempted to. " Yes, now please relax. I have fed in this location before and no one has ever died. I have lived a long life and acquired quite the knowledge on self control.", she began to move close to her upper thigh, her nose brushing lightly against her skin, and her mouth leaving light streaks stained from her rouge. The sound of skin break was heard through the cold air, Y/N let out a pained moan and held her breath. The pain was unpleasant, it was like having a canine bite but with small thin teeth. She tried focusing on the candle wicks, watching them sway and dance softly in the distance. The warm occasional crackle it did from time to time. It was the closest thing to resemble peacefulness during this taxing time. Alcina began to feed, siphoning Y/N's blood, she made sounds of utter bliss as the sweet flavor danced along her desperate tongue. Her body stiffening in surprise as pure satisfaction greeted her mouth. Her nipples growing erect through her night gown, brushing against Y/N's leg. Y/N felt light headed, feeling blood leaving her as she grew quickly cold. Strangely, she had no presence of panic, perhaps, the loss of blood delivered her brief emotional insensitivity. Alcina stayed down there for quite sometime, muttering muffled sounds of bliss, occasionally latching off revealing a bloodied chin, teeth, and lips. She met Y/N's eyes and immediately flashed a wide smile, it was almost sickening but in a way bewitching. Maybe the lack of blood was making Y/N confused. " W-why am I so relaxed?", she muttered feeling a heavy weight of tranquility possess her. " Shh...its the lack of blood. Soon I will stop.", Alcina whispered as Y/N felt her tongue lick her inner thigh. Her long tongue tracing and prodding the bite marks. Desperstely trying to drain whatever was left of the site.

" I believe, I am full. Thank you for the meal.", she wiped her crimson stained lips and chin with the back of her hands ,now tarnishing it with red. " I believe, I owe you a thank you, pet. You have been surprisingly obedient the whole time, and quiet too.", Alcina slowly adjusted herself until she was on all fours above Y/N. Her large smooth breasts draping down reaveling down her well tailored gown. She began to crawl slowly towards Y/N's face, her chest lighting brushing against Y/N's body. It was incredibly soft yet cold. " I am going to need you to open your mouth, won't you, pet?", without hesitation, Y/N dropped her mouth open for her. Alcina licked her lips and pressed her right fang into her plump bottom lip. Blood began to trickle out and run down her chin and onto her chest. Her hand traveled slowly up to Y/N's neck, gentle gripping it, and holding it against the mattress. Her opposite hand, explored under her shirt, and rested on her heart. Y/N, felt the a wave of heat flush away the cold that was residing in her. What was she about to do? "Can't let my obedient food die on me, yet.", Alcina leaned herself forward, pressing her lips against Y/N's. Her tongue inviting itself into her mouth, brushing metallic crimson inside. The flavor was terrible but Y/N did not seem to object. Alcina continued to kiss her, muffled sounds escaping between their lips as a warm blanketed feeling continued to lay over Y/N. Blood had managed to escape their lips, trickling down Y/N's chin, it was incredibly cold as it traveled down. Alcina ceased the kissing, her face revealed itself to be flush and pink. Strange for a creature of the undead. She moved her long delicate fingers along Y/N's blood covered lips and chin. Collecting whatever escaped under her finger tips. "Don't waste it.", she whispered softly nudging her fingers against Y/N's lips, as they slipped their way inside her mouth. More of that bitter flavor met Y/N's tongue, and she felt her body grow warmer and warmer. Alcina took her fingers out after a few moments, examining there was no trace of remaining blood present. She made a sound of approval that trailed with a small smile. An overwhelming amount of insatiable hunger found Y/N, she felt her body perk with energy, her senses incredibly alert, and her heart accelerate as if it was injected with caffeine. She brought a hand to Alcina's cheek and drew her to her own. Lips reuniting again, her tongue pressing its way into Alcina's mouth, and Y/N biting her lower plump lip. She was hungry, the introduction to Alcina's blood was intoxicating, addictive, and restoring. It brought her energy and she needed more. A small line of red flowed from Alcina's lower lip, and Y/N quickly licked it from her face. Her tongue returning back to Alcina's mouth the moment she collected all of her crimson. Alcina muffled a small moan, as her hand tightened around Y/N's neck, the opposite hand no long resting on her Y/N's heart but traveling down her stomach. Her incredibly sharp nails dragging into her sternum down to above her navel. She felt blood seep from those insicions, and she let out a pained moan. She buried her lips against Alcina's for a few more passionate moments until she broke it. Her lips pressing against Y/N's neck and her tongue dragging down her neck to the freshly bloodied cuts on her sternum and navel. She kissed and licked the bloodied wounds hungrily. Little delicate moans left her mouth as she glanced up at Y/N with her appreciative smile. Still continuing to clean the newly made cuts with her tongue. "Dont act as if this is an invitation of making love, foolish one. Vampires have restorative blood that gives humans the ability to briefly recover, replenish energy, alertness, and on some occasions enhance their libidio.", she rolled her eyes, " In this case, you acquired all of it. What a headache. I just wanted to make sure you didn't die of blood loss.", She sighed. " I suppose I will find more uses for you, pet. But don't think it will entirely feel good."

To be continued...

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[tyunniverse]

FRIENDS FOR A DAY (2)

pair: yeonjun x reader

genre: fluff

word count: 2654

parts: 1 | 2

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It had been a long time since Yeonjun felt like this. Sometimes life in general had become too much to bear and the things that used to make him happy weren't working for him anymore. Times spent alone slowly became more frequent for him than times he'd spent with his friends.

He'd skipped the first day, not wanting to go back to that routine life just yet. And towards the start of the day, he would never have imagined meeting you and getting to spend the day doing things that strayed far from any of the schedules he'd previously planned. A breath of fresh air was what he liked to call it, and he had you to thank for that.

Unlike him, everything was new to you; a new city, a new school, new people, and a whole new life ahead. Yeonjun felt a little envious after realizing it when you'd talked more about yourselves during lunch, but after seeing how you seemed to enjoy every single second of your little sight seeing endeavor, he thought that maybe he could also be a part of something new in your life.

Best friends.

You had agreed to be his best friend from today onwards; the pendant around your neck serving as proof. Yeonjun finds his hand wandering over to his pocket, holding on to his old necklace.

Half of a star. He'd bought it a few years back. The necklace had a similar purpose with the one he was wearing now— meant to be worn separately by two different people. In his case, he had bought it as a whole and had decided to keep one half of it still in its case, stashed inside his closet. His reasons for purchasing it never really felt clear even to him but he also wouldn't call it an impulsive decision. Yeonjun liked to think that he'd be able to find a use for it in the future.

"Yeonjun." You call for his attention, pointing at the posters plastered on a random shop's wall. "It says that the annual carnival will be opening tonight. Wanna go?"

Yeonjun grins. Opportunities somehow kept showing up right in front of his doorstep. "Yeah, only if you want to though. Afterall, I'm only the tour guide for today."

"Shut up." You hold back a smile. "Have you been there before?"

Yeonjun repeats the question in his mind. As someone one would consider pretty popular, you'd expect him to be no stranger in hanging out at fun places like an annual carnival, but that's just it. Yeonjun had never visited that Carnival once ever since it opened. His friends had asked him to tag along but something about it just never seemed to make him want to.

"No." Yeonjun answers, scratching the back of his head. "If we end up going then this would be my first time too." The first time he'd actually wanted to go.

"I guess we're going then." You grin and Yeonjun finds himself smiling back. "It says here that the Carnival's just around the corner so it'd probably be okay if we just walked there."

"Yeah."

The two of you make your way to the Carnival. You still had a good amount of time left before it opened so a few quick stops at some stalls along the way didn't do any harm.

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In all honesty, Yeonjun didn't even know when and how he'd ended up holding your hand, laughing his heart off by the time you arrived at the entrance but it all just happened somehow. Was it the when your ice cream cone almost landed straight on his shoe earlier? Or when his hand nearly hit you square in the face when he noticed a bug flying towards you? It could've even been when a group of old ladies started hitting on him at the handbag boutique and all you did was stand there shaking, wanting to laugh your ass off.

No matter what the reason was, he liked this. Somehow, it just felt right.

The two of you pay for the tickets before heading inside. The place was larger than any of you had ever expected, cleaner too. People of all ages were enjoying their carnival experience to the fullest. Children were running around with their guardians following closely behind, couples and groups of friends chatting along and taking pictures— Yeonjun could swear he saw two old men arguing over who gets to take a picture with the mascot first.

"So, which ride do you wanna go on first?" You ask, turning to him.

"Well, how about that one." Yeonjun points at the viking and you feel yourself getting more and more excited.

"NICE—" Before Yeonjun knew it, you were dragging him around to every single ride at the carnival.

You liked to keep count of everytime Yeonjun freaked out while you went on the rides, and Yeonjun liked to do the same. Despite the thrill of being at a carnival keeping you hyped up, there were a few times when you had overestimated your tolerance with being thrown around. Yeonjun nearly puked twice: once at the twister, and a second time on the rollercoaster. Even you were almost a victim by the rollercoaster's loops.

Yeonjun had claimed he was an expert at navigating haunted house attractions, stating, "I've been watching horror movies all my life. Nothing scares me at this point, tbh." True enough, nothing scared Yeonjun except every single ominous decoration and jump scares the haunted house threw at him. You weren't too fond of horror yourself, but you ended up trying to be the brave one after Yeonjun basically clung to you half of the time. It didn't help whenever you freaked out since you ended up losing Yeonjun after he not so subtly abandons you at the slightest suspicious sound. It was a miracle you made it out in one piece.

"Yeah, so, uh, sorry about that." Yeonjun laughs it off the moment you two got out.

"Sure but you should know that I'm never gonna let you live it down." You tell him, smiling widely as you hold up the photos you received from one of the staff. "I got evidence."

Yeonjun snatches the photos from your hands. "Bold of you to assume these'll affect me— oh." It definitely did.

You watch as he slips the photos inside his jacket as if it wasn't obvious enough that he was trying to hide it from you. "Nice try but," You take out another batch of photos and wave it around. "Boom. Two copies."

"Wow, okay."

The two of you ended up laughing at each other before you suggest in trying out the stalls. They say time flies by fast when you're having fun and they couldn't be more right. There had been an unspoken competition between you and Yeonjun of who can win the most prizes and let's just say you weren't about to let yourself lose. By the time you got tired, you had a total of three plushies and a bunch of candy bars stuffed in your pockets and well, Yeonjun had the exact amount of prizes you had.

"Fine. It's a draw for now but only because I'm tired." Yeonjun holds the plushies tighter. "We should really get a bag for this. I wonder if we can get a huge plastic bag somewhere."

"Nah, we can just put em in here." You take off your back pack, opening it wide. "I'm sure it can fit all six of them. They're small enough." You were lucky that they did, finally leaving your hands free.

"Wait." Yeonjun pauses after putting the last of his plushies inside. "How can I be sure you won't just take my plushies for yourself after we leave? I'm pretty easy to distract so—"

"If you forget to get them back then I'll just hand them to you tomorrow at school. You go to HSU too, right?" You tell him.

"Yeah, but how will you contact me?"

"Obviously, we exchange numbers."

Yeonjun blinks. Of course that'd be the simplest solution but still. He'd been talking about staying as friends even after all this but the thought of exchanging numbers hadn't really crossed his mind. He takes out his phone and the two of you quickly added each other as contacts, somehow feeling a bit closer after the exchange.

"While we're at it—" Yeonjun pulls you in closer as he bends down. Only now that you've felt Yeonjun's warmth close to you have you noticed how cold it actually was outside . It takes you a few seconds to register that he wants to take a few selfies.

You bust out a smile and tried to go along with whatever weird faces and poses he did. "Send them to me later." You say after examining the photos. There's one where Yeonjun mimicked a kissing motion near your cheek, making you smile. Who would've expected you two were total strangers up until a few hours ago.

"Got room for one last ride?" Yeonjun asks as you return his phone.

"Yeah, sure. Which one?"

"Don't ask as if you don't know. I'm pretty sure you left this one out on purpose."

Perhaps unconsciously, you did. In every single movie that involved the two characters going to a carnival, for some reason, they always left the Ferris Wheel for last. It's not like you wanted something grand to happen when you ride it, but more like you just wanted to get a good view of the entire carnival before leaving. It seemed like the perfect final attraction.

Yeonjun notices how you've gone quiet and decided to hold your hand, pulling you along. "Let's go before the place closes."

"Okay." You look up at him, nodding.

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The Ferris Wheel ride wasn't all you had expected it to be. It looked pretty slow in the movies but right now? You were about to puke.

"Yeonjun, wait." You hold on to Yeonjun who was sitting opposite to you.

The Ferris Wheel was going too fast to your liking and you started feeling dizzy. Getting a good view of the carnival seemed impossible at this point and looking at your partner made you even more miserable.

Yeonjun was having the time of his life. He loved the feeling in his stomach whenever the ride went down, and the fact that you were lowkey suffering right in front of him made him laugh even harder.

The speed went on for a few more rounds until it finally slows down. Your heart and probably everything else stilled once the ride came to a complete stop just as your car reached the top. "Thank God. I felt like I was going to die."

"Well, you're safe for now." Yeonjun grins, leaning back in his heat. "You wanted to enjoy the view, right? We'll be stuck here for probably about a minute or two so enjoy it while it lasts."

"Yeah." You smile back, looking outside the window.

The winds were colder up there, reminding you of how warm it felt when you stood close to Yeonjun earlier. Yeonjun catches you warming yourself up with your hands and chuckles. He takes off his jacket and hands it over to you. "Here, put this on."

"Thanks." You quickly put his jacket on. Usually you'd go for the polite route and turn him down but if you were going to continue this friendship business then you weren't about to suffer in the cold when the dude's practically handing you a solution.

Yeonjun gives you a little smile before you continue to admire the view. Down there, the lights almost looked like a sea of stars. The music around the place didn't really help set the mood but somehow, the mixture of it along with the laughter and delightful screams of the other visitors made it feel right. After everything that happened today, you felt like it was the right decision to end the day with this breathtaking sight.

And Yeonjun couldn't agree more. The lights below reflected in your eyes in a way that made the atmosphere lighter. He could tell you were happy and right now, that seemed to be enough for him.

The Ferris Wheel began moving. Yeonjun snickers as he felt you grab for his hand, worried that the ride might throw you off once more, but it didn't. The way down was slow, allowing you to enjoy the ride in peace. Your pendant started to shine, reflecting the lights. It reminded him of everything that happened, from the moment you two met and agreed on a friendship that would last for only a day, up until now where he held your hand on the Ferris Wheel after deciding to be friends for real this time. The pendant became the sole proof of that friendship and Yeonjun couldn't help but wonder if the ones he bought a few years back would truly be of any use in the future. But what would it symbolize for? Who knows, he might just give you the other half.

Your car comes to a stop and the doors open. The realization that the day has officially come to an end left you feeling disappointed. Yeonjun squeezes your hand, bringing your attention to him. He gestures for the two of you to get up and you do, finally stepping back on the ground.

Both you and Yeonjun felt that the way back to the entrance was too fast. It really did seem like the two of you wouldn't see each other again despite the fact you went to the same university. The thought felt silly but that's just how the carnival experience gets to you.

"I guess this is it." Yeonjun speaks up first. "You live pretty far from here, right? I can take you home if you want."

"It's okay. My cousin lives nearby and I texted her earlier that I'd be staying over." You tell him, not wanting him to worry. "How about you? Will you be alright on your own?"

"Yeah, definitely." Yeonjun reassures, holding up his hands. "Oh, and by the way. Is it okay if I leave the plushies on your bag for now? I can't exactly carry them on the way back. If it's ok with you."

"Don't worry. You can just take them back tomorrow." You grin and Yeonjun smiles back. "Also, I'm keeping your jacket for now. I'll return it after I clean it up."

"I can work with that." He shouldn't feel this happy but he did. In a way, he was able to find an excuse to meet up with you tomorrow without things getting awkward. Maybe this friendship could work out afterall.

"Thanks for today. Honestly, this was the most fun I've had ever since I got here." You say, taking one last look at him.

I should be the one to thank you. "You know, I have a lot of things I wanna say to you right now but I think I'm gonna wait until I feel like it."

"Huh?"

"Nothing. I'll text you later." Yeonjun gives you a quick pat on the shoulder before running off to the opposite direction. "See you at school! And don't forget to bring the kids!"

You raise a brow. Did he just refer to the plushies as his kids?

He felt dumb, running away from you. The longer he stayed, the more he had trouble leaving, which was new for him. It's been a while since he actually found someone he'd like to hang out with and he was having trouble controlling his excitement. Soon, you'd be able to visit each other's houses, hang out more freely, talk about your days as if it were nothing, and get to know each other more. Honestly speaking, Yeonjun couldn't wait for that day to come but I guess he'll just have to start with tomorrow.

[charlottedabookworm]

lols, I kno I've sent in a bunch of these, so feel free to opt out if you're not interested. How about a fix-it Doctor Who crossover for FFXV? Teen Noctis and Prompto end up being Companions to The Doctor (I'm partial to 13, 9, and 10 but it's up to you) and somehow, this saves everything.

1) Prompto actually meets the Doctor first, when he’s 10.

(Prompto first meets the Doctor when he’s just a few months old, when a blonde wearing rainbows happens to run past a man carrying a baby in a lab.

The lab blows up.

Surprise)

He’s maybe somewhere he shouldn’t be, camera in hand and glasses perched on his nose, when he walks into the weirdest fight ever.

(That guy was a fish)

And, just as he freezes, thinking he’s about to die, a man in a trench-coat sweeps in - a redhead a half step behind him, already yelling at literally everyone - and breaks it up easily, even if it takes a couple hours. Prompto is amazed.

The red-head - Donna, my name is Donna - sits with him while everyone else argues (occasionally yelling at the trench-coat guy) and walks him home and makes sure he’s got food and that’s he’s okay (and maybe she has some words for his parents who aren’t home again but he mostly ignores that because she’s so cool) and then they sweep out of his life.

(Or not.

The first letter comes days later, dropped in the letterbox with Donna’s signature scrawled on the back and Prompto feels so warm he could burst)

(The letters last for a couple years, telling him about dangerous exciting adventures and her idiot best friend and giving him tips with people and getting things done around the house and… 

and then, one day, suddenly, they stop)

(He’s pretty sure he knows why)

2) Still, for all he’s met the Doctor, Prompto has never really seen the TARDIS.

Which is how he and Noct end up accidentally inside when on the run from a couple kidnappers.

The TARDIS promptly takes off. The bloke in a leather jacket demands to know where they came from. 

Prom and Noct just stare.

(Best. Kidnapping. Ever)

3) So- the thing is.

The TARDIS? Still a little damaged by the Time War. And by ‘a little’, there’s a lot of damage, and a rather large dearth of spare parts.

And Eos? Not easy to get to.

The Doctor has no idea how the TARDIS got through the energy barrier surrounding the planet in the first place but she does not want to go back.

Which- considering that the Prince of Lucis is currently staring at him in horror - is not the best thing.

Noctis looks a lot less worried and a lot more confused when he reassures them that he will be able to get them back, and at the same moment they left, it just might take a while.

Prompto just nods.

(He’s already figured out that this isn’t the Doctor he knew. But Donna had told him a lot about Time Lords and the TARDIS and the Doctor - he’s realised, as he grew up, that maybe she just wanted someone to talk to about it all - and he definitely recognises the name Rose so)

4) Prom is bouncy and Noct is calmer but they both fall in love with the TARDIS so easily and they love the adventure and the travelling and meeting new people and it’s amazing.

Their enthusiasm helps a Doctor who is struggling so much to see any joy in the universe. They bring life to the TARDIS and the sound of their laughter intertwined with Rose’s (and with Jack’s) fills him with something almost like happiness

And the boys- they’ve grown up in the Crown City of a country in a century old war. 

They might be young, might be fairly sheltered from the worst of it, but they’ve spent more than enough time around war veterans

They don’t push, on the days the Doctor can’t handle it, and they distract Rose and it helps

5) Eventually, almost 6 months after they were ‘kidnapped’, the TARDIS is well enough to take them home.

They almost don’t want to leave.

They do anyway.

The Doctor lands exactly where they’d entered, at that exact moment, and they say their goodbyes - get the hugs and the phones in their back pockets and the promises to pop back sometime and they leave with bags that are expanded far beyond what they probably should be (but the Doctor knows things and he will not leave these children with nothing)

Nobody noticed they were gone.

Technically they weren’t.

6) Noctis lays Gladio flat with a move he picked up from an archaeologist he met on one of their trips

Prompto’s flirting now makes people blush like crazy, nobody knows how he’s suddenly so smooth

Jack is proud

7) Nobody understands the sudden banana obsession

8) Prophecies are one thing

Fixed points in time are another

It isn’t hard, to figure out what being The Chosen King means

But 6 months travelling all of time and space makes someone a lot less likely to bow down to fate

(If it’s Fixed, you’ll die anyway, Prompto whispers to him fiercely when it looks like he’s about to give in to it all, but we’re going to make sure you live)

9) The thing is- by the time they hit 20 (or so their birthdays say) they’ve seen more than one peace treaties. The Doctor has a habit of ending wars and, sometimes, he’ll stick around for the treaties and even the parties

So they know what they look like

They also know what a trap looks like

Noctis refuses to leave the Citadel, Prompto by his side

and, well, everybody’s rather thankful later

10) The square gun (totally not stolen from Jack) in Prompto’s hands takes a nice square out of Glauca

Might have taken a lot of tinkering to get around the safeties but totally worth it

11) when a phone box that appears between Aldercapt and his father it doesn’t surprise Noctis

he can’t say the same about the rest of the room

and he might not recognise the face that pokes out of the TARDIS with a grin but he knows the Doctor and the time lord still feels the same 

Prompto waves cheerfully, bouncing on his toes like he hasn’t just taken out Niflheim’s best General in a single shot

Six, Noct loves his best friend

then a woman steps out behind the Doctor and Noctis grins

“River!”

(The archaeologist winks. and promptly threatens the Emperor. very bloodily. the Doctor looks very smitten. and also very confused about how they know each other.

if he wanted to know he shouldn’t have lost him in that jungle, Noctis thinks, still feeling a little spiteful)

12) Everything gets wrapped up pretty quickly after that - at least with the empire

and then the Doctor runs into a man who is almost a fixed point but not (like Jack but artificial, not of time like he is, and oh, oops, do the boys know about Jack? spoiler alert, they do, they aren’t happy but Jack said he’d already punched him so) but this one he can fix

it isn’t hard to just reach out and tweak

there’s a reason his kind were called Time Lords after all

Ardyn disappears, still angry, still vengeful, but mortal

the Doctor leaves not long after

River promises to visit and the boys grin

everyone with any sort of common sense fears everything

13) A few months later, when they call him up again because they need someone to yell at a giant lizard about making people immortal against their will and trying to get teenagers to sacrifice themselves, the Doctor who appears is grey haired and grumpy

Prompto hugs him, just because

The Doctor flails

Bill - who introduces herself while the Doctor is flailing and is around their age - is brilliant and they exchange stories while the Doctor gets all Scottish-Grumpy and Value-of-Life and Oncoming-Storm on Bahamut and the dark-haired evilish one - Missy, Bill calls her - rolls her eyes and Nardole does

-something. He does something. He maybe goes and makes a cuppa tea

It’s great, reminds the boys of exactly what they missed about being 15 and travelling with the Doctor

(for everyone else, it’s a dawning realisation about why Noctis and Prompto are so good at dealing with chaos in general)

and then they totally dart off for another trip, just a short one dad we’ll be back for dinner!

Prompto asks this Doctor, who knows him, who recognises him from both times, about Donna, that night in the console room, and it’s not what he thought - she’s not dead - but she doesn't remember anything and he just

he cries

so does the Doctor

(later, Noctis decides to test if potions could help with the whole, meta crisis thing. because Prompto is sad

they do. because i say so

Donna gives Prompto the best hugs)

[girlseeksbook]

Highlander: Where We Are (A Highlander/Harry Styles Fanfiction)

Summary: Immortals Harry and Elisabeth were set up lovers from the start by fate, but torn apart by another Immortal, Louis Tomlinson. The year is 2019 and a hundred and eighty three years later, they've reunited by a simple letter. But Louis, out for revenge is set on taking their heads. Will he succeed?

There can be only one...and don't lose your head.

Part I, 1 of 2

Holmes Chapel, Cheshire 2019

A woman waited by the lake, in Forest Park which has now turned into Somerford Park Farm apparently. She absentmindedly looked at her reflection in the water, then she'd heard a buzz. She turned around to face a man, with short brunette hair, who looked as if he had not aged a bit. But that is because he hasn't and neither has she as they were Immortals.

'Elisabeth,' he breathed. He ran his hand through his already tousled hair, as he couldn't believe his eyes. 'God, it's been so long.'

'Three hundred and three years, to be exact.' She softly smiled.

'But it's been a hundred and twenty years since I last saw you.' His forest green eyes quickly scanned her body before meeting her eyes again. 'And you're still beautiful.'

'Harry,' she sighed.

Church Hulme, Cheshire 1716

'I told you, Mum. I don't want to meet another one of your brides that you and Father keep setting me up with.' Harry checked the tied ribbon around his neck, looking in the mirror as his mother stood behind him with pleading eyes. In the face, they almost looked more like siblings than mother and son. But Harry had the sharpest jawline and lightest green eyes.

'Oh, Harry, you must meet her and woo her before she is betrothed to another. She is a Debutante and you're a Marquess, Harry. You must be married and have children of your own to carry on the family name and honour.' Anne, his mother, carried on.

'I know, Mum, but I'd also like to marry for love.' Harry turned around when a man in velvet clothing came in.

'Ma'am, I'm sorry to interrupt, but Lady Elisabeth is here.' Anne and Harry nodded. Harry walked into the commons and saw her. She turned around and smiled at Harry. Long auburn hair in single braid, running down her back with honey brown eyes. Her skin as fair as porcelain. She wore a proper blush coloured corset dress.

Harry stepped forward and took her hand in his. He brought it to his lips, placed a kiss to it and released it. He was so enamoured by her beauty that he wanted claim her...Woo her, kiss her lips, and even make love to her. He felt sparks when he'd touched her hand.

'Marquess Harry Styles, I'm honoured to meet you, Miss...'

'Elisabeth Milam,' she said so very elegantly. Harry had a feeling. A feeling he couldn't explain. A feeling other than lust. Unknownst to him, she felt it too.

Five months later...

Harry stood at the lake in Forest Park, where they'd always met. They'd became close out of the five months since they'd first met. But today was an emergency...at least that's what the telegram said.

'Harry!' He looked to see Elisabeth in a long ivory dress, which usually hand maidens wore, running towards him. 'Harry!' She crashed into his arms and her lips met his.

'What is the matter, Elisabeth,' Harry asked after he broke the kiss. He cupped her heart shaped face and his thumb caressed her cheek.

'I've come to give bad news,' A tear escaped as it ran down her cheek when she lowered her head.

'Whatever it is, we can get through it together.' She shook her head as she looked up and into his eyes.

'No, we can't. I'm betrothed to Louis Tomlinson now.' Harry's face fell as he'd planned to propose to her, even though they were already arranged to marry. But that's now down the drain. 'I told Father, I didn't want to marry him. I don't love him. I love you, Harry, but he said Louis had more money and that's the only thing he seems to care about.'

'I love you as well. I'd planned to propose to you. I'd even asked your father for his blessing, but I see he doesn't keep his word. We'll be together one way or another...I promise.' Elisabeth grinned as she covered his lips with her's. They'd felt that feeling that they'd felt the first time they'd met...sparks and the pull. But the feeling that somebody was watching them, made them break the kiss and look around.

'Well, well, well...' Louis sneered. Elisabeth looked to his hand to see his sword beside him. 'I see I've been engaged to a whore.'

Harry soon filled with rage.

'Don't you dare call her as such,' Harry spat.

'Why not? She is engaged to me and here she is kissing you,' Louis smirked. 'Have you taken her innocence too? I thought we were best friends, Harry.'

Harry drew his sword.

'Don't you dare challenge me, boy, unless you mean it!' Louis's booming voice made Elisabeth flinch.

'Then, don't you dare disrespect, Lady Elisabeth. I will not have you speak to her as if she is a common whore. Now, I challenge you.'

Elisabeth backed away to another tree to get to safety.

'Harry, please don't! He is a good swordsman.'

'Good? I'm the best,' Louis boasted.

'Louis, I'm sorry. I'll marry you, just let Harry live!'

'You're going to marry me whether he's dead or not sweetheart.'

Harry swung his sword first and clinked against Louis's. Harry didn't look surprised, but very concentrated on the task at hand. However, they kept fighting and never quitting. Swords continue to exchange swings swiftly with nothing stopping them.

Then, Harry slipped and all the sudden, he was impaled by Louis's sword in the chest. Harry looked down at the sword and looked back up at Louis, who smirked as he pulled out his sword, that was buried right in his heart. Harry stumbled back and fell into the lake.

Elisabeth screamed and sprinted into the lake to hold him. As she held him in her arms, in the cold water, he floundered; and she struggled to contain her sobbing and tears.

'No, Harry, don't leave me. Please don't, I love you. I want to marry you and have your children. Please, please don't leave me.'

'Elisabeth, we'll be together...one way or another...I promise...' But it was too late, he faded out leaving a dead body in her arms. She couldn't control herself anymore as she placed his body in the water gently. She ran up to Louis and slapped him. He grabbed his face and grinned.

'Humph, I thought you were the gentle kind,' he said, then he slapped her...hard.

--

'And after that, I stuck with him for my father's sake.'

'And were you happy?' Harry became annoyed and Elisabeth became confused.

'I—'

'Did he take care of you? Did he love you? Did he satisfy you underneath the cover—'

'Harry, he killed me!'

Harry felt the colour from his face drain away, as he let his anger and jealously take control of him.

'After five years of his abuse and cheating, I got tired of it. So, I tried to leave him, but he had other plans. We lived in Church Hulme--I mean Holmes Chapel, for the first year of our marriage. But after he found out about my trips to your parents, he had us move. We lived in Liverpool for the rest of the four years.

Liverpool 1721

'Sally, can you get the groceries? I have to talk to my husband.'

'Yes, Ma'am.' Sally dismissed herself. Elisabeth went to the stairs, but as soon as she had her foot on the first step, she heard a woman's laughter.

She made her way quickly up the steps and opened the bedroom to Louis, with two women, in their own bed. She felt numb. She knew she didn't feel any romantic feelings towards this man, but they were married. And she felt as a married couple, they should still stay faithful, despite having not had sex since their wedding night...when he took her innocence that she was saving for Harry, whom she knew to be dead at the hands of Louis himself.

Louis, I want more,' one of the whores whined, while he had his head in between her legs. Louis raised his head to respond, but saw Elisabeth in the doorway. His face soured and he climbed out from his current position. He then came after Elisabeth, grabbed her hair and dragged her out of the room, and down the stairs.

'I want to leave! I fucking hate you,' she cried. 'You can keep your whores! I want to leave.' He threw her to the ground in the middle of the foyer.

'You know a lady shouldn't talk like that. Especially, Duchess Elisabeth Tomlinson,' He mocked.

She hated hearing her married name as she wanted Harry's last name and she never stopped having dreams about a life she could've had with him. She didn't notice that he'd snagged his sword.

'But if you want to leave, I can make that happen. You can even see your lover.' She became confused and looked up at Louis. Her eyes widened as he thrust the sword through her heart. He pulled it out so coarsely. As she felt her life drain from her body, she could hear him say, 'I guess it was fun having a mortal wife...for awhile, but now it's run it's course.'

A few moments later, her eyes opened in panic as she got up. She was still in the foyer, in her bloody dress, but no blood.

'Ah, you're up.' She saw Louis fully dressed as she lay on the floor. 'Now that you're immortal, I wonder what the sex will be like.'

'No, that's never going to happen. I'm leaving you,' she said with determination, as she picked herself up.

'You know your lover is immortal and you can run away all you like...But I'm going to find both of you and have your heads.'

--

'And then he left me there. I walked far, far away from where I'd lived, because I somehow sensed that if I went back there, it wasn't going to be pretty.'

'I will not let him get your Quickening!' Harry affirmed. 'Even if it costs me my head.'

'Harry—'

'I love you and would do anything for you. Even die for you, forever.' Harry and her were only inches apart, yet so close. He wanted to kiss her so bad. To feel her lips on his like he did before he died. But he knew he had to control himself for he never knew what might happen next.

'After you left me in the lake, another immortal, an Irishman, by the name of Niall Horan, found me. I was shocked that I could've sworn I'd just died. But he explained everything to me. That I'm an Immortal and others are gonna be after my head for my power and knowledge, my Quickening. He trained me in sword fighting and self-defence. I even travelled with him and that's how I saw you at the ball.

Paris 1899

'Aye, I'm not sure Paris has the best ale or not,' Niall mused as he sat on the bar stool, looking at a pint of Bière Double, contemplating on whether it really tasted that great. He was a beer connoisseur after all. A lot of times, Harry and him would practise sword fighting and sometimes it would be finding a good place to eat and a proper beer to taste...A lot of times, wine as well.

'Yeah, I guess not,' Harry said, not paying very much attention to what Niall was even saying. He was distracted by the familiar woman with long Auburn hair, dancing with a man with long dark hair.

She was giggling, but she was alive and he couldn't believe his eyes. She was one, too.

'I sensed a couple of Immortals when we came in, did you,' the Irishman asked Harry, pulling him from his musings.

'I was way behind you and I didn't sense them until now.' Harry lied. 'And I'm glad too, I can get her back.' Niall became confused.

'What are you talking about?'

Harry pointed to who he believed was indeed to be Elisabeth.

'That is Elisabeth dancing with some bloke and I can't believe she's alive!' Harry said excitedly.

'The Elisabeth,' Niall asked to make sure. He knew about Harry's history, especially with Elisabeth. He remembered witnessing Harry's death after he'd sensed another Immortal and two others that were to be Immortal. Niall knew the rules, he could not interfere once an Immortal was challenged by another one.

Once Louis had slapped Elisabeth, resulting in her falling to the ground. He'd looked around as he, too, sensed another Immortal besides the ones before him. Niall made sure he was not seen at all, on his horse.

'I know you're there, Niall.' Louis bellowed out. Niall gulped as he came out from behind the tree. Louis smirked, ' I haven't seen you in years...especially since around the time I first turned.'

'Wow, what a nice way to comment on my age,' Niall remained serious. 'What happened to respecting your elders? Isn't that what I taught you? And yet you still turned out to be a prick.'

'Yeah? Well, you were a shite teacher...especially out of pity, and I don't need that bullshite. But hey don't we have more Quickening for the taking?'

Niall shook his head at Louis's pessimistic views. It was hard for Louis and it was hard to teach Louis. Every time Niall thought he could get through to him, Louis would just do his own thing to rebel.

'Maybe I'll take it after I'm done with her,' Louis smirked. 'But hey I'll give you the Marquess.'

Louis picked up Elisabeth, put her on his shoulder and left. When Niall knew he was gone for sure, he made his way to the man in the shallow end of the lake and got off his horse to wait for Harry to wake. He'd witnessed Harry's panicked state when he woke up screaming out for Elisabeth, but all Harry saw was the blonde-brunette man with a horse before him.

Harry stepped forward, but Niall held out his arm halting him. Harry's eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

'What are you doing? She's right there, after all these years of believing she was dead; she's here and vibrant.'

'No, mate, You can't. If she's with that bloke, then you have a problem.' Niall was very serious. 'That man she's with, has a reputation. He's Duncan Macleod of the clan Macleod. He's Scottish and very powerful mate. He will take your head if you're not careful. Do not quarrel with him and if you love her then you will leave her in peace. She's happy and if she is happy than you should be too. Now we have to go before he spots me.' Harry snickered.

'Hey! Niall, is that you?'

'Oh, for fuck's sake!'

'What did you do?' Niall, all the sudden was uneasy and twitchy. He ushered out Harry as fast as he could whist Harry was laughing.

--

Elisabeth laughed with him and he only shyly laughed. As soon as she sighed, she started her story.

'Um...Duncan Macleod was my teacher. We were both in a dark place, I was in a dark place after you supposedly died and on top of that Louis abused me and cheated on me several times. Duncan taught me several things to keep me calm. I lived in a monastery for four years studying culture and the ways of monks and even transcendental meditation. I've wanted Louis' head for so long, for you and me. After I departed from Duncan in 1743, I traveled to many other places in search of people to train me.

'I've been with many lovers, but I've never stayed long, because there was no one in my heart other than you. That night at the ball, I just ran into Duncan when he asked me to dance. That was when I saw you briefly at the bar. When I finished my dance with Duncan, I went to look for you. But you were gone. I couldn't believe my eyes when I saw you there and when I couldn't find you, I'd convinced myself it was just my imagination. But now I've found you and I've never been so happy in my life.'

'Me too, Elisa.' Harry grinned and she smiled.

'But just so you know, Louis is mine. I want his head.' She affirmed and Harry sighed.

'Elisabeth,' He groaned.

'No, Harry, this is my fight. He took you away from me and the torture I had to go through just so my greedy father could get his hands on Louis's wealth. I have to do this.'

'But you will lose your head! Don't you get that?!' Harry took a deep breath to calm himself. 'I love you and I want to fight this fight. If you lose your head then I will never recover. I don't want to lose you again. I could've said hello to you that night, but Niall wouldn't let me. I love you so much and I spent most of my life believing you were dead.

'I thought maybe I saw a ghost of you, but I could sense and feel you were there. Please...you know, afterwards we could live on Holy Ground and adopt a child...Have our own little family. We'll get married and have a home of our own.' Elisabeth grinned, but saddened by the fact that as an Immortal, she nor he, couldn't have children.

'Are you trying to bribe me with marriage and a child, Mr Styles?' Harry grinned this time.

'Maybe...' Before she knew it, he was too close to her lips and he kissed her. It went from sweet at first, to hunger. He hadn't seen her or felt her lips on his in a long time. He often felt it was a dream. Then he wrapped his arms around her waist, just as she wrapped her arms around his neck.

Ever since she saw him at the ball when he wasn't looking, she dreamed this day would happen when they would be together again, if she didn't lose her head first. 'I wish I could take you right here on this grass,' he groaned. 'But it's soggy and it's where I died. I wonder why the note said to meet at this place.'

'I know, this place brings back so many hurtful memories that I try to forget. After you died, Louis forcefully took my innocence and then he'd said, he couldn't stand being married to a whore.' She sobbed. 'I was saving it for you and I failed. I'm sorry.'

'No, Elisa, no,' he cooed. 'It's not your fault, it's mine. I wish I could've been there to protect you. I love you so much.' He cupped her face with her hand and swiped a tear with his thumb.

It then became tense and they both heard the buzz, which meant that another Immortal was here. They turned their heads to find their common enemy, Louis. Elisabeth and Harry backed away from each other. Harry stepped forward to fight.

'Well, if it isn't my two favourite heart-breakers,' Louis smirked. He wore a bluish-grey suit with a classic Burberry coat. 'You know it was pretty easy to find you two. You couldn't pick another spot? One that didn't bring horrible memories to us?' Louis chuckled. 'Well, I did put it in the letter so...'

Harry and Elisabeth were horrified that they were tricked by the one man that wanted their heads. 

'I wonder which one I'm going to behead first,' he turned his head to Elisabeth. 'The one I'd loved, before she stabbed me in the back by choosing this Marquess over a Duke. I would've brought her anything she desired, but she stepped on and crushed that along with my heart when she chose Harry over me.' Then he turned his head to Harry, 'Or should I choose my close friend who betrayed me by going after my lady...' He drew his sword out of his jacket and Harry did the same. 'Ah, so it's Harry.'

'No,' Elisabeth called out as she drew her sword, a beautiful katana with blush-pink owl handle. 'I told you, Harry, Louis is mine!'

'Elisabeth, I don't want him to take your head!'

'It's not your choice, Harry. I want to do this if you will let me. He took everything from me...'

'Except your teacher, Macleod.' Louis smirked. 'I think I might take his head after yours and Harry's.'

'He's over five hundred years old,' Elisabeth pointed out.

'And how old do you think I am?' Louis laughed. 'A measly two hundred years? No, sweetheart, I'm over eight hundred and forty two years old. So, do you still wanna challenge me, little princess or are you gonna let your boyfriend do it?'

Doncaster 1204

'Aye, Louis, I just put some wood in the warehouse for ya, lad,' John said, as he ran his hand through his shaggy brown hair. John was Louis's boss at the lumber mill at which he and Louis worked as a lumberjacks and built houses on the side. Louis was very proud of his job and was considered a hard worker, providing for his wife and child.

He came to the conclusion, after years of trying, that he couldn't have children. Then, a blessing came along while he was hunting, a baby abandoned in the middle of a forest with wolves in the distance ready to pounce any second.

He put away his bow and arrow, so he could rescue the child. He was so happy to see the joyous look on his wife, Caroline's face when she saw that he'd rescued the child. They raised the boy as their own and named him Fredrick 'Freddie' Tomlinson.

'Yea, good day, John.' Louis walked to the pile of wood and noticed the faint smell of something burning. He followed the scent to find a spark, followed by a sudden blaze of fire spreading from log to log and up the walls, to the ceiling.

[semi-sketchy]

Sassy I'm a bit curious but feel free not to answer this question if you don't want too. Why do you think the webkinz fandom is so bad lately. I've probably had my head in the ground the whole time because I haven't seen anything that bad recently. I have seen bad things before on kinztube and kinztagram but what part of it recently is so bad. I'm only asking this to get a new perspective not to tell you you're wrong. you've known this community longer than I have.

Don’t worry, I understand what you’re saying. Curiosity and wanting to learn is a great thing and I’m always happy to help, so hopefully I can explain this well.

The Webkinz fandom isn’t just bad lately; it’s been for awhile. I touched on it slightly here, but I’ll go more in depth below.

I guess the simple TL;DR is that I have never seen a community more willing to put someone under the chopping block to “spread awareness” or simply to engage in callout culture. (I’ve reblogged a few things on callout culture if you wanna read them.) Now for the actual part that’s long.

WAIT. I said I understood and I didn’t. I thought you were asking just what’s wrong with the community and not just recent drama. I’ve already spent over an hour typing all this and only caught that proofreading it. It still stands for today, but recently, since I’ve basically said “bye not dealing with you” to everyone, I haven’t really seen any drama. I don’t watch KinzTube anymore, I don’t follow members of the community, so I’m not really the best one for this. It’s really past experiences that set my opinions, although from what I’ve heard, it hasn’t gotten better. Alright, back to the post, carry on.

Being on KinzTube 8 years, I’ve seen a lot of things. Trends, secrets, scandals, but I took it as normal. I figured “every fandom is this bad. This is normal” until I saw it wasn’t.

I’ve seen people go on about Starrystar33 saying how she was a mean person and no one should have looked up to her, their main point being that she said “please don’t use my name” even though that’s just the thing nearly everyone said back in 2010. People used to get very defensive and angry back in 2007 and 2008 when someone wanted to be queen or king of a Webkinz (for real though, people stopped caring in ‘09 and this isn’t a thing anymore. Everyone making rants like it’s still a thing…no. No one has cared about it in a decade.) I used to see videos saying “block this person!!” although now it’s gotten a lot dirtier.

See, the Webkinz community has stepped aside from yelling “Billy hurt me!!” and has turned instead to “I wish I could give you my pain just for one moment. Not to hurt you, but to make you understand how much you hurt me~ ♥” And people praise them. Praise them for posting an “inspirational quote” and “keeping drama out of this” when really, the person is going to read it. Their friends will show them. It will hurt like the dickens. And because the original poster is so highly praised, they’ll keep doing it. The fallout is public and everyone knows who the post is about, but because there’s no names mentioned, it’s taken as acceptable and keeping things “drama free” when really it’s just a dirty trick to hurt people. It gets even worse when someone asks “what’s this about?” and they answer “I’ll message you” and the talking behind others backs happen. It spreads from person to person in private as it travels through friend groups. Everyone slowly gets turned against the other party because it’s a lot easier to trust gossip from a friend and have it taint your views.

To someone on the outside that’s not tuned in, it looks harmless, but pay attention to the subtle details and you’ll begin to notice a pattern. To eat my own words a bit here, there was a video made about me awhile ago. I think it’s been taken down, but the user and I had a spat. My friend sent me the video saying “look what they did.” It was a video where a Webkinz that represented them pushed through the crowds, above all the haters, but took special time aside to push down and diminish a Signature Siamese Cat; a Webkinz I use to represent me. To others, it was about standing tall, to my friends and me, it was about them going out of their way to say “fuck you.”

Through the addiction to gossip, hatred is born. Unbeknownst to a user, an entire community can be turned against them. The amount of back-handed exchanges and how people thrive off of it is sickening. And it’s happened to me.

This isn’t even the end of it. One of the reasons I had to disable comments on my channel was because of Webkinz users overall being salty. When I got my third Signature Siberian Husky, Karma, the comment section was a bloodbath. About 4 people sounded genuine saying she was cute, the rest were passive aggressive “I want one” and “oh yay good for you I don’t have one” along with flat out “you’re so spoiled lord you already have two huskies and you had to buy a third and keep someone else from buying it!” I kind of wonder if that video is what sparked the KinzTube trend of making rants on getting doubles.

I was prepared for the messages and when I got Timber, my second Signature Timber Wolf, so I went on the offense. Flat out spewing what I had learned and seen. I made a full on rant that I still stand by. Webkinz fans are salty. If they didn’t have something and they deemed someone had something they wanted, that person was a devil and needed to be put in their place. If they disagree to give/sell it to you, they’re even worse. I was surprised when rather than getting hate messages, I actually got a few people praising me for speaking up. I’m far from the only one affected by this issue.

As I said in the video, I believe this is due to the general age range for Webkinz fans being 11 - 16, a tough time in life where they’re learning social skills. Hormones are raging and I believe this is the time when people are most self-conscious. Low self esteem paired with a community that has hate and gossip knocking on every door leads to a pack mentality, or how I see it, a mob mentality. A confusing and hard time when you’re so angry, anything can set you off. That rage is often directed at whoever is the most recent target, whoever your friends have told you about, who hurt someone you follow.

Not everyone will be like this, I’m speaking mainly from my own experience and what I’ve seen, not any studies or anything. I don’t fully blame them, I was in that exact spot a few years back, but it’s toxic and shouldn’t be normalized.

The worst part of this being normalized and just “something everyone does” is that some don’t grow out of it. I hate to be this way, but you need the punch in the face to realize and learn. No one can tell you social skills and you acquire them like moves in a video game; you have to learn through life the hard way.

I understand I’m highly biased here, but this has been my experience.Has there been good in the community? Of course. There’s also the “village idiot has the loudest voice” thing, so the bad are always more vocal than the good. You just gotta pick your battles and push through, that’s the only way you’ll make it in this community.

-Sassy

[yostresswritinggirl]

A Yearly Memory

~Zhongli x Reader

Warnings: None

Characters: Zhongli, Lesser God!Reader

Relationship: Ambiguous

Word Count: 1.2k words

A small drabble because I got self-conscious seeing y'all greet the Geo daddy- Happy Birthday, Zhongli hnghhh, first time greeting a fictional character kek and writing in tumblr sooo Enjoy a happy new year and let's hope this one does end happy!

Made this at 2:55 AM so don't expect much kek

Can you imagine 6000 and more years of the same day passing, taking time to organize a feast for that particular date? In their circumstance, time isn't relevant, for Gods who lived beyond a millenia. Honestly, everyone who lived in Celestia saw time as irrelevant and passing, nothing but the sun and the moon exchanging thrones in the sky for 365 rotations.

But for Rex Lapis who prides himself the oldest archon also relives those 6 milleniums ever so clearly.

And in his passing, and even before, he has grown accustomed to the importance of 'time' and 'day' and 'night'.

Yet, he stood atop a grassy cliff, overlooking the harbour of his own land where comes a perfect view of the moon parallel to where he stands.

In this particular day every passing year, he finds himself here as if pulled by the winds himself for reasons he cannot fathom.

"Morax-? Morax!" Calls from behind him accompanied with light footsteps crunching the blades of grass under it. His amber eyes only widen slightly before willing it to pull away from the waves that bounced the moonlight.

"God of Memories— (Y/N), I was not aware of your immigration to Liyue, are you perhaps here to document the coming of the annual departure to a new cycle?"

Your form finally catches up to his side, straightened after gathering yourself from what seems to be a marathon just to find him. The ex-archon besides you possessed a slight smile at the height difference. For it was ironic that despite the same age you had lived (and maybe even more for you, as you had existed whence the first memory had came), he was still very much heads above you, contrasting to him as you don a younger appearance to his olden self.

You carry with you a device he does not recognize and when his eyes bounces back to where yours shine in hidden mischief, you looked at him almost offended, incredulous.

"Mr. Newly-Retired, I've heard you abandoned your position to live among the humans you once overlooked," you didn't even bother to answer him.

He'd perked up, tensing his shoulders, ready to be lectured by yours truly. For after all it was you two left that remained longest standing in the history of higher beings, he'd known you'd feel betrayed that he had just abandoned your side like so.

He opens his mouth to explain— "And so, to start your new chapter, it's only fair we impart to you some human tradition!" and it stays open in confusion.

The glint in your eyes finally surfaces full blown and he couldn't help but relish in that cheeky smile you matched it with, arms shifting to lift the contraption hanging from your neck. "I'm fairly certain I'm accurate on my counting so

Happy 6052nd birthday, Zhongli!"

He hides his raw surprise and fluster in an airy chuckle, following your twinkling giggle as you nudged him with an elbow.

Is that why he's subconsciously sentimental of this day ever since? For it was the exact date but rolled back thousand of years ago, to when he first set foot on Teyvat?

"Birthdays... I didn't even notice, and quiet so early too. Thank you, (Y/N), I am grateful for your time and consideration." Zhongli would flash a smile so sentimental and pure that it almost brings you to your knees with the innocence it carries. He's so precious— precious!

"Y-yes, you are welcome! I would have brought some fresh silk flowers as a gift," he'd tilt his head in silent inquiry as you once again fumbled on the rectangular box, "but such gifts wilts too easily, swept aside in just four days! Too quick and easily forgotten." Now the god before you would love to protest, for everything you'd leave behind for him will always be immortalized in his heart and mind.

"So I created this thing over here! I call it a Kamera!" Despite his confusion over the contraption, your triumphant grin only sends him fluttering and urging you to continue. For others it was a rare sight to see someone else do the talking when Zhongli was part of the conversation, but the man in question also enjoys lending an ear, indulging himself especially when it comes to knowledge he has not heard of. "It freezes a moment in time, capturing it in a parchment to be kept forever. As your first celebration, I wanted to capture it clearly for us to look back to together! Like so!"

Without another word, you had grabbed his forearm to urge him lower, using the same hand to loosely wrap around his neck. He'd almost had to kneel from the height difference as he stumbled upon your forcefulness when a click and a fragment of light sounded from afront before he could get his bearings.

"Tada! Oh look, you look so good in an image, it worked perfectly!"

Your energy matched a very particular person Zhongli had to deal with but yours were refreshing and contagious despite the nigh hours of the night.

He had patted his sleeve straight as he watches you mercilessly flap a piece of paper that somehow appeared on your hand. He has questions, a lot, and he was once again interrupted by you: shoving the paper to his face like it was a trophy of a competition you'd been waiting for your whole life.

It was a portrait but accurately colored and captured to a size as big as his palm. Your arm around his neck with a wide, closed-eye grin while looking straight ahead and him (clearly unprepared) with an obvious surprise and touch of obliviousness, glowing amber eyes slightly trained to your profile.

He was glad he was a professional in keeping a calm composture, because he saw just about the most obvious red dust on his cheeks, now immortalized for everyone who sets their eyes upon on the paper to witness.

"Ah, I'm so happy it worked even when I had to rush it to be on time! Here, keep this, as your birthday gift!" You practically shoved the device and the image to his arms with buzzing excitement and pride. "Happy birthday, again!"

An advance technology constructed with the sole idea of being a gift for him? His appreciation is beyond words that rendered him speechless and you patiently watch him take into account everything that has been thrown at him.

"Zhong-zhong... you're too quiet—"

A snap and a flash blew your pupils and forced you to cover your eyes to rub the spots dancing in your vision. He was a fast learner but damn, he could have warned you of his impulsive ministrations.

As you whine over your semi-blinded state with jumbled protests spewing out of your lips, the man before you holds a euphoric smile over the new paper clutched between his fingers.

It was the best gift he'd ever received in his lifetime.

"Thank you, for this and everything. I hope you know how deeply I appreciate you."

Morax's smile, the God of War, however faltered at the edges when he saw the darkened stare looking down upon him. The twitch of your eyebrow makes a sudden sweat fall off his.