#decided to finish off this year with something a bit more high effort even if that took a lot out of me

[fauchart]

'The cold intelligence of her eyes clashes somewhat with her innocent, nurturing demeanor.'

#ocs #greenport #pernelle #my art #long time no portrait! #decided to finish off this year with something a bit more high effort even if that took a lot out of me #still struggling with art block #but i'm battling like a champ #i love you penny my beloved oc penny #♥ #hope you all are doing well!

[theonceandfuturequeenoftarts]

Prompt-ober 2023 – Mythology and chaste kiss

From the moment Harry first sees the block of marble, he knows what it’s meant to be. He gets it at a discount due to some flaws – not enough dark green striations to look intentional, too many to create a piece using only the pure white marble, a slight crack formed during transport from the quarry. None of them matter to Harry. Once he has it in place in his spartan studio, Harry works like a man possessed to bring his creation to life. His friends, well aware of how Harry gets when he’s sculpting, pop by to bring him food and drink and make him take breaks to sleep. He’s not sure what he’d do without them. Probably die from overwork and malnutrition. He’ll have to do something really nice for them once he’s finished his sculpture. It takes three months of solid, near round-the-clock work to chip the precious but unnecessary stone away from the form he can envision within. The time flies by. He knows he’s never seen the face he’s shaping before, but it seems so familiar to him. If he were to really think about it, he might be able to determine who he’d used as a reference for the chin or the nose or the lips. But looking at the features as they take form, he can’t imagine them any other way. He takes his time with the final polishing, ensuring the sheen and smoothness of the stone appears as perfect as he can make it. The sculpture’s skin almost glows – he’s gotten the translucent lustre just right. Harry stands back and takes in his finished work, removing his apron, pockets heavy with chisels, rasps and sanding paper, and dusting off his worn, ripped jeans.  The figure is seated on an ornate throne, slouching the slightest bit and staring down its aquiline nose at some unseen supplicant. The face is beautiful, but there’s a cruelty to the arch of its brow and the twist of its full lips. Lush, wavy hair frames high cheekbones, leading down to a long neck and broad shoulders. The sculpture’s body is trim and firm, but the musculature isn’t overly defined. Seven dark green veins of varying sizes spiderweb across the figure’s torso and arms. Its feet are planted solidly on the plinth beneath it, arms loose but holding a sword across its lap – covered with carved, draping fabric for modesty, because Harry just couldn’t visualise the sculpture’s bits and, at a certain point, he'd felt decidedly perverted from his continued efforts to do so. He has always been told that his sculptures are full of vitality – that they look ready to step off their plinth and join the world of the living. But even he thinks he’s outdone himself this time. Harry decides to catch a few hours of sleep then give the sculpture one final go-over. Before he puts out the lights and leaves, he wanders over to stare at his creation, looking as an observer rather than the craftsman. He’d been so careful to touch the marble with his bare skin as little as possible, to prevent his skin oils from discolouring the stone. But, just this once, he allows himself to reach out and gently stroke the sculpture’s cheek with the backs of his fingers. Cold and smooth. When Hermione had last popped in to make sure he was eating enough, she’d looked at his sculpture, raised her eyebrows, then looked at Harry and asked if he’d finally carved himself a Galatea. Harry had huffed a laugh – people had been making those sorts of comments to him for years at this point – and asked Hermione about her work at the library. But now, as he rests his hand against the figure’s cheek, he wonders if she’d noticed something he hadn’t. He’ll miss this project more than any other, once it’s sent to the gallery that displays his work. He leans in closer and presses his lips, feather-light, against the figure’s lips, thinking maybe… But he’s no Pygmalion, and the sculpture remains marble beneath his touch. Laughing a little at his fanciful actions, Harry finishes closing up his studio for the day and goes to rest. ──⚝── Hours later, with dawn’s first light illuminating the airborne dust in the studio and no one around to see, a marble finger twitches.

Part two can be read here.

#tomarrymort #harry potter #sculptor!harry #tom riddle #harrygmalion and galatom #harry gets his chisel all over tom's inanimate business

[bonny-kookoo]

Jungkook: 𝐊𝐢𝐧𝐠'𝐬 𝐌𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐨𝐰 1

In which jungkook refuses to give up on you- not even when the only trace of hope is a place said to be nothing more than fiction.

Tags/Warnings: Dragon Rider!Jungkook, Dragon shifter!Reader, magic, medieval themes, established relationship, mentions of Illness (reader is said to be cursed)

Additional Chapter Warnings: kook is best boy 10/10

Chapter Length: short

Next ->

When you first met Jungkook, you'd been a no-one. A simple number, ready to be given to the next rider that begins his training. He'd been no older than 15- yet he still was above you in age, if not by a lot. But something was different with him. Something that set him apart from the other riders in training.

He was gentle, soft spoken, kind.

And while all of those were traits he'd been scolded for mercilessly at first, he'd soon blossomed into a skilled young man, talented like rarely someone before him. You'd developed a deep friendship over time, growing up together in a way, and you still remember the words he'd spoken to you years later at the night before his final challenge- the one day that would decide if his efforts had paid off or not.

"I'll stay by your side." he'd told you, well aware of the stigma surrounding you and your bloodline in particular- every female in your family seemingly cursed to never live a long life, sickness always taking you sooner than later. He'd already been asked to change his partner, choose a new dragon for himself- but he'd declined, every time. "we will reach king's meadow, and then your curse will be lifted." he promised, no answer ever coming from you other than the way you'd shifted closer to him- leaning your head against his shoulder as you watch the small bonfire in front of you burn.

King's Meadow. It's part of a nursery song, ages old, sung to children whenever they're sick or scared. It tells the tale of a place touched by gods, where no dark and evil can exist, and wishes are granted.

You've tried to tell him that it's just a tale. Everyone around him has as well. But Jungkook is stubborn, ambitious, can't let go once he'd bitten down on something.

Even now, years after finishing his training with honor, he's not let go of his plans. Every month he asks for permission to travel in order to find the place no one's ever been to before- and every month it's like today, where he simply walks back in to your shared home, throwing the rejection letter of the high court into the fireplace.

Though these days, he's been getting more and more stressed.

You're not admitting it, but something is off. You're sleeping longer, headaches occasionally plaguing you when they've never occurred before. It's not much, nothing too concerning- but every sign of illness to him is making the urgency of it all more present in his soul. He doesnt ever want to loose you;

Not if he can do something about it.

"did you sleep the day away while I was gone?" he teasingly asks, joining you on the bed, hands next to your head as his arms hold himself up above you.

"There's nothing exciting happening when you're gone anyways, so why stay awake?" you playfully defend yourself, reaching up to peck his lips. The fact you two fell in love down the line wasn't anything surprising to anyone, much less you two. It felt natural-

Like you're meant to be.

"hm, romantic words." he hums, before he lays down with you, sighing. "one day I'll convince them." he mumbles against your shoulder, though you only shrug.

"it's okay." you say. "I know you'll find a new dragon quickly after I-"

"don't say it." he cuts you off, arms around you holding you a bit tighter. "I don't want anyone else. Ever." he protests stubbornly- and you simply leave it at that, well aware there's nothing you can say to sway his opinion.

He will have to face reality soon enough.

#bts imagine #bts fanfic #bts fic #jungkook imagine

[thebawdybaldurian]

BG3FicFeb Day 23

SFW: A peek into Tav’s younger days, as she prepares to become the chaotic, horny bard of legend.

NSFW: When Tav returns to Halsin, covered in fang marks, he decides to one-up his vampiric lover by unleashing his inner beast

SFW: A day in the life of Tav’s childhood

Background: Before she was known as Tav or Chardonnay Brandywine, she was Clataedre Calthrenis (aka Addy), a young high elf born to sorcerer parents.

Addy walked home from school beaming, holding a loosely bound stack of paper. ‘Best in the class, you have a real talent for writing’ was written across the top. She’d spent hours refining the class assignment, more engaged in this project than any other before. She did well in all her other studies, if she could manage to pay attention, but this was something she had actually enjoyed finishing. She couldn’t wait to show her parents the story she had written.

They were both in their study, as they usually were, pouring over arcane literature or experimenting with spells. They were two of the best Evokers in Neverwinter, meeting and marrying quite quickly while attending the arcane academy. It was more of a mutual arrangement than a romantic partnership, but they did manage to have one child, despite the lower rate of Elven births. Their daughter would be the culmination of their combined magical legacy. As such, she was expected to practice spell casting as often as she could, sometimes to the detriment of her other studies.

Her parents barely noticed when she entered the room, her smile still wide. “How was school, Addy?” Her father asked, carefully stirring a potion with a Mage Hand.

“My teacher liked my story the best out of the entire class,” Addy proudly held her work up.

“What story?” Her mother replied, forming a small ice crystal in her hand. She began manipulating it with her other hand, barely paying any attention to her daughter.

“The one I have been working on for a month.”

“Time better spent mastering your Thunderwave spell, in my opinion,” her mother continued her manipulation. “Honestly, what is that school teaching you? The sooner you are enrolled in the arcane academy, the better. You are grown now, you shouldn’t be wasting your time writing fancies.”

“I like this school,” Addy frowned, wishing they would show interest in anything other than magic. “They teach me a lot of different things.”

“No harm being well rounded,” her father added, finishing with the potion and giving it a sniff.

“Addy, Jorgan should have lunch prepared for you. Tell him to come in here so I can test this potion when you find him. You can start on your studies after.”

Addy’s shoulder’s slumped, expecting perhaps the slightest bit of pride from her parents. She’d worked so hard on this story and they didn’t even care. She went to find their sorcerer’s apprentice, who was little more than a glorified servant and test subject, receiving only the benefit of room and board with some magical instruction. She hated the young elf, only a few years older than her, who frequently gave her creepy looks and put in the least amount of effort in the meals he was forced to prepare for her. She found him leaned over the kitchen counter, talking to someone through a well hidden sending stone.

“I could probably finger you with my Mage Hand from here,” he whispered, clearly talking to some new love interest. Addy cleared her throat, letting him know she was there. “What do you want?” He sighed, hiding the stone in his pocket.

“Just grabbing my lunch,” she pulled the cloche off the plate that sat on the counter. It was some amalgamation of vegetables and charred meat. “It’s burnt,” she scrunched her nose.

“Fix it with a Prestidigitation Spell then,” he sassed her, slipping into the pantry to continue his lurid conversation.

“My father has a new potion for you,” she made a rude gesture at him, hoping the potion made his cock fall off, and took the plate up to her bedroom, her only sanctuary from both him and her parents.

She sat on the floor, fixing the meat with the simple cantrip, and ate while she re-read the story she’d written. It was an adventure about a halfling who find a magical artifact and travels all across Faerun. She’d stared at map for hours, picking out interesting sounding places for her heroine to visit. There was nothing she wanted more than to escape her house, escape Neverwinter, and escape the pressures of magic. She wanted to have fun, be known, be loved.

She eventually let out a long sigh, tossing the story into the pile of accomplishments her parents couldn’t care less about. She reached under her bed to grab her private journal, something no one would ever read. It was full of her dreams and desires and short little stories about the life she wanted to have. She began to write something new, something she desired more than anything.

‘I want to meet a handsome man who sweeps me off my feet, takes me on an adventure, and then marries me, giving me lots of children.’

She scribbled out the last bit. No, that was the fantasy of little girls and she was pretty much a woman now. She didn’t want any other child to have to live like she had, even her own. She couldn’t wait to get out of this house and never look back. She was supposed to begin at the arcane academy next year, but she knew in her heart she would hate in more than anything. She wanted to write, to travel, to be free, to finally be loved.

She’d met a young bard a few months ago, hanging up flyers for the local college around her school. They’d talked and flirted shyly, the bard giving her her first kiss, that had left her in a daze for a tenday. She could never have anything like that at the arcane college. Their fraternization policy was incredibly strict. She needed to explore everything, including herself, wondering how angry her parents would be if she enrolled in the bard’s college instead.

NSFW: Marking

Background: When Tav returns to Halsin, covered in fang marks, he decides to one-up his vampiric lover by unleashing his inner beast. (That story is already written for one of the last prompts 😄)

Content and Warnings: Female elf x male elf. Semi-public sex, marking, biting, oral sex, PIV sex, cum play, masturbation.

Tav and Astarion returned to the Elfsong Tavern, rejoining their companions after spending the night at Tav’s cottage. It was an unusually hot spring day, but Tav was wearing a long-sleeved dress and a silk scarf tied around her neck. Astarion had ravaged her the night before, leaving her covered neck to ankle in bite marks. She was a little sore and tired from their vigorous lovemaking/blood drinking session, but she’d loved every second of it. She was already sweating from their brief walk through the Lower City by the time they arrived.

She found Halsin out on the balcony, enjoying the warmer weather lounged on a wooden chaise, in just a pair of shorts. He would have prefered to be fully nude, sparing his companions the awkwardness. “Hello, my heart,” he grinned up at her, shielding his eyes from the sun.

“Hi, love,” Tav felt a hot flush spread across her body, the shorts leaving little to the imagination.

She could see the outline of his flaccid, but still thick cock, his balls resting on his thick, muscular thighs. His golden skin glistened slightly from the mix of sweat and body oil he applied to his skin to keep his body hair soft and supple.

“Join me,” he added, patting the chaise beside him, looking her up and down. “Though perhaps you’d like to change first? You must be sweltering.”

“A little,” she blushed, pulling at the scarf around her neck. She untied it, revealing the two bites marks on either side of her throat.

“You and Astarion enjoyed yourselves, I take it?” He grinned as she climbed onto the chaise next to him. He leaned over to kiss her neck, nuzzling against the tiny red wounds.

“A little too much, I think,” she blushed even deeper, unlacing the top of her dress so she could get some air on her chest. The top of her breasts had bite marks on them as well.

“I see,” he gently caressed his hand down her neck, giving one of her breasts a squeeze. He reached down for the hem of her dress, pulling it up to her knees as he kissed her. “How many times did he bite you?” He looked down at the marks that trailed up her legs as well.

“I lost count,” she blushed even deeper. “You’re not mad, are you? That he marked me so much?”

“Definitely not mad,” he glanced down at his growing arousal, already bulging out of his loose shorts. “Perhaps jealous he got to taste so much of your skin,” he pulled her dress higher, revealing the many bites on her thighs.

“You could as well,” she let out a quiet sigh as he bent down to kiss her thighs. He spread them apart, nuzzling and kissing the soft, unmarred flesh in between the bite marks. “Ohhh,” she let out a little yelp as he bit roughly into her inner thigh. He didn’t break the skin, but it would bruise her delicate flesh quickly. He reached up to tug on the top of her underpants, the scent of her own growing arousal too much for him. “Halsin,” she bit her lip, looking back to make sure she’d shut the door to that led inside. “What if someone comes out?”

“Let them,” he slid her underpants down, lifting her hips to get them off. “They can watch me reclaim you,” he pressed his mouth to her clit at once, sending a shock up her spine.

“Gods!” Her legs trembled as his tongue probed her, his hands spreading her thighs wider.

He licked and nibbled on her, letting his mouth drift down her other thigh for a moment to bit her there. He brought her to climax quickly, his hunger for her making her bite into her own flesh to keep her moans quiet. He left more rough bites on her outer thighs, nibbling past her knees and then left a few bites on each of her calves. She’d unlaced her dress by now, leaving it completely open in the front. He looked over her with a smile, watching as she rubbed her fingers against her clit. “I need to mount you,” she hissed, staring down at the cock protruding through his shorts.

The wet spot of pre-cum spread wide across them. He grinned and climbed beside her again, his cock spilling out of his shorts effortlessly. She straddled him quickly, rubbing her slit against him as she checked the door again. There would be no way to hide her riding his cock if someone should come out. “Fuck!” She arched her back as he guided himself inside her, eager to feel her around him. She’d already opened completely for his sizable member, not needing any slow warmup to begin riding his cock quickly and urgently.

His mouth went straight to her breasts, his wide mouth biting just above Astarion’s teeth marks. The chaise creaked underneath them, their sweat beading together and dripping between the wooden slats. She slowed her hips for only a moment, pulling her dress off completely, leaving her fully nude and completely exposed. Anyone looking up at a certain angle from the street below would be able to see them, but she didn’t care. She wanted him so much, his hunger for her making her want him even more. He moved up to her neck, sucking on her sensitive flesh, leaving hickeys up and down her throat.

“Gods…fuck…uhhhhnnn,” she pressed her face into his chest as she came again, muffling her moans against the musky dew of his skin. He bucked his hips with her, close to his own climax. “Wait,” she breathed heavily, slowly circling her hips around him as he grunted with need. “I skipped my tincture this month, so Astarion could drink my moon blood…you probably shouldn’t come in me.”

“Okay,” he nodded, moving her hips against him a little more. He knew her thoughts on children, and as unlikely as it would be to impregnate her given their Elven heritage and his perceived infertility, he would always comply with her wishes.

She climbed off of him, returning to her original position on the chaise, rubbing and circling her hands around her breasts, ready to take his seed all over her. “Yes, my big bear, come here,” she purred at him as he straddled her, keeping his hips high so he could fuck her tits. He took control of her breasts, pressing them together with the right amount of friction and allowing her to finger herself to a third climax. “Please…yeah…oh, cover me in it,” she begged, staring up a him looming over her.

He’d been so close before, it didn’t take long for him to spread across her neck and chest, his growl echoing across the neighborhood. Their companions inside, all occupied with other things, each raised a curious eyebrow, Astarion hiding a wide grin as well. “Mmmmm fuck,” Tav squealed, vibrating from her final climax as he huffed above her. She reached her slick fingers up to slid his copious seed across her skin, drawing them up her neck to her lips so she could taste a bit of him.

“You are so beautiful,” he grinned widely, resting on his heels, watching as she slicked his cum all over herself. “You make me feral,” he leaned down to kiss her. “Do you mind if I transform and lick you clean?”

“Maybe later,” she teased, sliding her hand up his chest again, getting more of his scent on her. “I want to smell like you for a bit.”

He let out a low growl, kissing her deeply before returning to her side. They lounged in the sun for a bit, their fingers softly caressing each other’s thighs. Astarion eventually ventured out, curious as a cat as to what exactly they’d gotten up to out on the balcony. He grinned widely when he found the pair both glistening in the sun, fully nude. He could smell them both, his loins beginning to tingle. He hadn’t done anything other than kiss Halsin up until now, but felt himself getting closer to taking things further. “I didn’t know we had a nude beach going on out here,” he teased as Tav opened her eyes to see who was blocking her light.

“You’re welcome to join us,” she grinned, watching as his eyes drifted down her body, seeing all the new bite marks and hickeys Halsin had left on her. He leaned down to kiss her, Halsin’s scents heavy on her skin. It made him stir even more, his eyes glancing to Halsin, who was already blushing deeply.

“I can cover up,” Halsin sat up, reaching for his discarded shorts.

“No need,” Astarion smiled, unbuttoning his pants and untucking his shirt. “We might as well all enjoy the sun as nature intended.”

There was barely enough room on the wooden lounger for the three of them, Astarion making his way to the opposite side of Halsin as he undressed. Tav propped herself up on her elbow, watching as he stripped, his cock still flaccid, but excitedly pink. He had more self control than she did apparently. He climbed beside Halsin, stretching the beautiful pale of his skin out in the early afternoon sun. He propped himself up on his elbow as well, looking them both over. “We’ve done quite a number on her, haven’t we, druid?” His eyes continued to scan her glistening, but marred flesh.

“Indeed we have,” Halsin’s blush deepened. “I am pleased we can share her so throughly.”

“I was thinking,” Astarion pulled Halsin’s face towards him to give him a gentle kiss, only releasing his lips when he knew any longer would make him aroused. “We might soon share her…together. Once we deal with this damn brain, of course.”

“I’d like that very much,” Tav blushed, feeling an anticipatory pulse between her thighs.

As much as she loved their playful competition to own and mark her body, having them both, and seeing them together as well, stirred something deep inside her very core. Her nectar oozed from her just thinking about it, her thighs shifting to quell the sensation for now. They remained lounged in the sun together for while, before thirst and hunger drove the living elves inside. Between Halsin’s scents all over her and the thought of soon having them both at the same time, Tav grabbed a quick bite and then headed to a bath.

She was practically trembling by the time she climbed in, her fingers going to her cunt immediately. She finally washed her lover from her skin as she slowly fingered herself, her toes gripped into the edge of the tub as she braced herself with her feet. She thought about having both of them at once and watching them together, eager to see the stark contrast of their sizes. She caressed the fingers of her free hand across the marks of their desires, her hunger for them just as needful. She would face down the Netherbrain herself if need be, to allow herself more time with them. Each tender wound was a reminder of how much so wanted to give herself over to them completely. She loved them both more than anything.

She swallowed her moans, letting her other hand drift between her thighs as well, driving her towards yet another climax. Her joy couldn’t be contained, her voice crying out loudly, trying to form it into a song so her companions didn’t have to hear her a second time today. She continued to sing, her legs trembling against the tub, creating her first composition dedicated to her lovers. She quickly collected herself and dried off, finding a sheet of paper to write the notes down immediately. Astarion sought her out again, his superior hearing catching all of her song. “Perhaps we should stay at your cottage from now on?” he brushed up behind her, her robed frame bent over a table to write. “To spare our friends the opera.”

“Hmm, that would probably be best,” she chuckled, scribbling down the last of her notations. “Do you remember how the last part went?” She grinned, knowing he had likely heard it all.

He wrapped his arms around her, nuzzling his face into her neck. He hummed the last part of her spontaneous melody, swaying his body with hers as he did. She scribbled down the final notes, setting her pen down and placing her hands on top of his. “I’m glad you have such a good ear,” she closed her eyes, still swaying with him in silence.

“Your voice still makes my skin tingle, every time,” he spun her around, holding her just as close and kissing her deeply. He led her in a simple dance, his body guiding hers as she picked up the steps almost instantly.

“You know, I was always the entertainment at those fancy balls, but I wanted nothing more than to dance with someone,” she looked up at him.

“I’ll happily take you someday,” he stopped his steps, dipping her into an even deeper kiss. Their impending fight with the Netherbrain so near, he couldn’t help but fantasize about a life with her afterwards, their chances of survival so slim. “Will you sing that song for me again…tonight?” He smiled at her when their lips finally parted.

“How about we write a new one?” She pulled him in for another kiss.

#astarion #astarion x tav #astarion ancunin #tavstarion #bg3ficfeb #halsin #halsin silverbough

[remy-reinhardt]

HAPPIESTPLACEHQ TASK 11 - INTRO & CONNECTIONS

remy reinhardt ~ twenty-six ~ assistant baker ~ he/him (trans man, gay)

[ bio / muse / headcanons / spotify ]

Character Information

Ever since he was a child, helping around the kitchen with his Nana, Remy knew he wanted to cook. It took him years of washing dishes and mopping floors, learning the inner workings of a professional kitchen, and a month under the secret guidance of chef Auguste Gusteau, to finally set his mind completely on the end goal of being the chef of his own restaurant.

This has barely allowed him to cultivate a social life, which now, at twenty-six and with a stable job at Terrence Gold’s bakery, has truly come to bite him in the ass. After finishing high school, Remy has kept himself so busy with gaining experience for his dream job that he has barely had a free moment to put any thought on the type of person he wants to be, beyond a famous and respected a chef.

Since he hasn’t quite achieved this dream yet, it’s not like Remy is putting everything in the backburner to get himself a friend squad: it’s more like he finally realized just how lonesome his life really feels.

Passionate and hard-working, this doesn’t fully translate as of yet to normal human relationships: it’s a work in progress that Remy’s only now fully putting some effort on. Swinging wildly between paranoid and arrogant, Remy is nonetheless extremely loyal and would do anything for those he considers family.

Wanted Connections

Fellow Kitchen Staff: After years of odd jobs in the kitchens of Redwood Hollow, Remy is more than able to recognize quite a few faces. If your character has been part of the culinary business in the last ten years, they might have seen Remy in the background, mopping floors and washing dishes, perhaps even shared a cigarette outside the back door during breaktime. 

Little Rascals: Despite what his father says, everyone is very much aware of the petty crimes a bunch of Remy’s “cousins” dabble on from time to time, from casual pickpocketing to stealing brass doorknobs with crowbars. And besides, as clean a record as he currently has, and as much as Remy has managed to stay away from that branch of his family tree, it’s not like he couldn’t be eventually swayed to join in on the fun some time...

Head Chef: There is a large empty space where Auguste Gusteau, Remy’s old mentor, used to be. Certainly, nobody could really replace him: that doesn’t mean Remy’s not willing to accept the patronage of a more experienced master at the craft of cuisine, if that allows him to advance in his way to the dream of restoring Gusteau’s restaurant to its former glory.

This Charming Man: Not having any relationship experience doesn’t mean that Remy isn’t aware of the fact that he has a pretty specific type. He is invariably attracted to the confident, daring, smooth-talking, a-little-bit-of-an-asshole-in-a-charming-sort-of-way sort of guys he really wishes he could be. And Remy knows this because of the friends he has had a crush on who were exactly like that; so, perhaps, this is finally the time when he can finally take the next step and do something about it, instead of just letting his feelings eat at him.

Plot Ideas

Thick As Thieves: Remy has managed to keep his little brother on the straight and narrow... But that doesn’t mean that he has to abide by that, necessarily, right? After all, if your character could keep a secret, then nobody would be none the wiser.

After Drifting Apart: Before his transition, Remy had had a few girls he was friends with and quite close to, but which he eventually ditched in favor of finding a place with the other boys in his family. Years later, your character pops up again, wanting to become friends again; and partly out of a real fondness, and partly out of a sense of guilt, Remy tries to make an effort.

Now Show Off: Your character finds out about Remy’s cooking ambitions, and decides to put him to the test (whether or not they have the actual means to give him something in exchange for his efforts is up for debate –it could very well be just a scam to get free gourmet food). Remy will certainly jump at the opportunity to prove himself, though depending on what’s at stake, this might just be the most grueling challenge Remy has yet faced.

Taken Connections

Friends: @magicalterencegold, @tianarpowell​

Other

I’d like to see other characters from Ratatouille, especially Linguini and Colette.

I could really see Jaq Checkers and Gus Octavius being good extended family friends of the Reinhardts.

#happiestplacetask #happiestplacetask11 #death mention cw

[sabineelectricheart]

Secreterial Duties

Summary: Byleth takes her job very seriously, especially when her boss go MIA for two days.

Rating: T - Suitable for teens, 13 years and older, with some violence, minor coarse language, and minor suggestive adult themes.

Words: 1800

Notes: A bit of a workplace romance meets broken Dimitri. Hope you like it!

It was not too uncommon for Dimitri to close himself off when his lack of sleep and hallucinations about dead people started to get the best of him. He would retreat away for a day or two, then appear refreshed and even sunny, for lack of a better term, once he had gotten word of a new project to work on.

This programming company was her boss’ very life. She would wager her bottom dollar that the business was the thing he cared the most about, on what he sunk the most effort and love to have it prosper. Considering he had just an estranged step-sister in the way of family, and all his friends were employed in that office, one would find his dedication almost reasonable.

Yesterday, Sylvain had confirmed that they closed on a large project and that they should start working on it right away. However, this has been Byleth’s third time calling her boss, her second voicemail and still there is no reply.

The prospect of a new project has always managed to break Dimitri out of his funk, allowing him to focus on something other than the thoughts that constantly plagued his mind. Alas, it seems, that he has dug himself a little too deep this time around, and even his prized company has not been positioning itself as much of a prospect to break him out of it.

Pulling the device away from her ear, the secretary caught eyes with Felix. His gaze was slightly hopeful as he was also unable to get through to Dimitri. Yet, with a small shake of her head, she signalled she also has had no such luck. The man sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose before quietly going back to his desk and concerning himself with his work.

Byleth decided to follow suit the example and focused on the open spreadsheet on her computer screen. The Winter Solstice would come sooner rather than later, and she had to organize the yearly bonus pay-out and the taxes for filing season coming the New Year. There is much to be done, even if the boss was not around to check on it.

It was only after she had all but finished her day’s work, as the other employees pick up their jackets and leave, that she thought about the blue-eyed owner of the office behind her chair.

The blue-haired woman checks her phone once more to see if she had missed a call since the afternoon. Seiros, at this point, she would be more than content with anything, even a reassuring text. However, nothing had come through.

So, once she tidied up her desk and made sure she was completely alone, Byleth opened a locked drawer from her desk and fetched a key card. It was time to pay her favourite programmer a visit.

The blond man had given her a key to his home in confidence, and she made sure to honour it. She kept it very well hidden in her work station and refused to use it unless she was explicitly asked or it was a serious emergency. Neither scenario has ever played out before, but such a prolonged absence in such a critical moment certainly demanded drastic action.

The blue-haired secretary walked through the loft with her chin held high as her stiletto heels tapped against the marble floor, using the key card to call on the elevator that would take her to the penthouse.

It was the first time she has been here. She does her boss’ taxes every year, along with the company’s taxes, and so the opulence of the place is of no surprise to her. The software business brought in a decent income, even with the generous terms that they treated their employees, but that is little more than a drop in the bucket, pocket money in those obscene accounts. He earns more than she will ever do in her lifetime on his passive investments alone.

The Blaiddyd name is linked to the old aristocracy in Fhirdiad, and even if she never really cared for society pages, she knew that they were wealthy and influential. It was hard to, since the bus she rode from her home to her job every morning passed straight in front of a castle that bore the epithet.

It had been abundantly clear to her, even before she began working for Dimitri, that he did not really need to be there. She finds that her boss works hard because he believes in what he does, because he enjoys the hard labour, and she finds that she respects that.

She rang the buzzer, and Byleth waited patiently for his voice to be heard from the device. However, after a few minutes of waiting, there was no answer.

Sighing heavily, she rang the buzzer again. The woman knew very well that the blond was home for the night as she had managed to catch a glimpse of a light being on from under the door.

“You shouldn’t be here.”

The soft, sore voice sounding from the device scared her, almost causing her to lose her composure. She bit at sher lip, stepping closer to the door.

“Dimitri, I had to make sure you were okay. You missed my calls today about the new project we got.” She pointed out.

She was hoping that the argument would be enough for him to open up the door for the to talk, or at least for her to have a good look at him. For her, it was important to have more of a visual confirmation that he was truly well, but the door only offered her silence in return.

“Dimitri?” Byleth called. “Can I come in?”

Still, no answer came from the apartment.

The secretary figured that he did not want her to be there, and it was best not to push too much. Perhaps she could stop by before going to the office tomorrow, or call Felix and hope he has more luck than she did.

Feeling disheartened, she sighed, pulling her coat tighter around her as she turned to catch the elevator down.

She only made it a few steps away from the apartment before the open swung open behind her.

“What… What is this business about a new project?” Dimitri asked quietly.

The puerile quality to his question made Byleth smile and nod as she turned around to face him.

“Yes, Sylvain finally managed to land the contract with the Ministry of Health this week.” The woman informed him. “If you want it, I can give you the brief tonight. I think we are missing a certain touch.”

The blond smiled at her words, stepping away from the doorway to let her through. He helped her out of her coat and hung it on the closed, letting her get comfortable before guiding she to the bar stools in his kitchen.

“So, this new project.” Dimitri segues. “What has Sylvain said about the minutia with the contract?” 

Byleth went on to explain all that she has heard and show him the documents she had notated these last two days of work, making sure he knew every detail that she could possibly transmit ahead of a team meeting.

“I guess I have to go into the office tomorrow.” He concludes, energized. “Can you let the others know? We should sit down and discuss the software plan, there are some things I want to change to incorporate the comments from the Ministry officials.”

The secretary reached for her work bag, so she could pick up her mobile. “I’ll send them an email tonight.”

He picked at something on the counter, a slight frown falling darkly over his features. She lifted her hand from her lap, hovering just above his shoulder when she stopped.

“May I... Touch you, Dimitri?” The secretary asks, softly.

A belated breath later, he nodded. Sighing at the warmth of her hand as it made contact with his sweater. A small part of him wanting to lend into the touch, yet he kept himself upright as her thumb rubbed gently circles. That almost made him melt.

“Have you eaten anything today, Dimitri?” Her voice soft and gentle as she spoke, and with a small shake of his head, she stood from her seat.

Byleth offered a small pat to the man’s shoulder before heading into the kitchen to make him something simple. She knew, after so many lunch disasters, that her boss is majorly ambivalent about food, being able even to stomach the terrible cooking from her cousin Flayn, but he only actually enjoyed a very limited number of dishes.

A moment later, a cheese gratin, made out of that annoyingly fancy cheese which was Sylvain’s go-to choice for any gift giving occasion, was pushed in front of him. He looked up surprised, finding her sweet smile as she nodded for him to eat before starting to clean up the mess she made.

He ate, pleasantly reminded once again of the care and attention his secretary dispensed over him. He held back tears as he ate what he could, already feeling the onset of sickness creep into the pit of his stomach.

He pushed the plate away, letting Byleth quickly grab it and take it away before he could stand from his seat and bring it around the island.

“You don’t have to do that.” The man said, rather embarrassed.

She shrugged, rinsing off the dishes and quickly cleaning them before setting them up to dry.

“I made the mess, so I’m cleaning it up.” She stated, pragmatically. “Did you enjoy your meal?”

He nodded, smiling shyly as she finished up in the kitchen. Following the man into the living room and placing herself beside him as he turned on the tv for background noise.

Byleth let him talk freely, and they had a good time together, with no regard to the action-packed movie going on the cable channel in front of them.

It was easy to have a brief moment of distraction.

At one point, Dimitri fell asleep in a peaceful nap. He woke a few hours later, his eyes thick with sleep and an unfamiliar weight settled against his chest. Looking down, he found his secretary, the woman he was secretly interested in, snuggled into his sweater.

Glancing around for a clock, he chuckled silently to himself. For the first time in weeks, he had managed to get five hours of sleep with no interruptions from his plagued mind. He would accredit her with being the reason he slept as well as he did.

It might not be the perfect situation, and it will be painful to deal with it, but for now, he would enjoy the moment of warmth and comfort he found with Byleth.

*_*_*_*_*

Fire Emblem Masterlist

Three Houses Masterlist

#fire emblem #Dimitri Blaiddyd

[nella09archive]

Marriage. 88

Chapter 88: Halloween

We finally made the wish that everyone, other than our group, forgot about Buu. Not only that, Videl actually agreed to get her own version of the Saiyaman custom. We were making such a great team, and the debate club wasn’t half bad either. Everything was going right with the world. When there was no classes, or crimefighting, we hanged with Dende and Mr. Piccolo. Out of anywhere on the earth, it was not only the best place to study, it was also fun just hanging with everyone. Videl even made great friends with Mr. Piccolo. Everything was just awesome.

…

Mom and aunty Bulma made that I went to Trunks’ school. Aunty Bulma even got my friends to come too. This is so great. Even Marron started school. This is going to be the best school year ever! Soon it came time to make the wish, and when I saw the dragon, it was super cool. Then aunty Bulma invited us to a party the week after. Trunks made fun of my outfit, but I didn’t care. That’s because next month was Halloween, and I’m so excited. Me, Trunks, and Marron decided to mummies this year. On top of that, after the party dad allowed me to sleep over aunty Bulma’s place. Even told Gohan to stay, and enjoy himself. Gohan ended up going with Videl to the lookout, with Mr. Piccolo.

…

When I finally did arrive at the party, I couldn’t keep my eyes off Chichi. After eating, and sharing what went on today, I got an idea. Thankfully Bulma didn’t mind watching the boys for the night. After me and Chichi told the boys good night, I flew us home. She complained that it was cold. So, I rose my ki high enough to warm her, but not to become a super sayian. “I still don’t get why you didn’t want to drive. Now my hair must look a mess.”

I looked down at her beautiful face. “I could name a few good reasons.” I couldn’t help smile at the way she was blushing. The closer we got home, the more excited I was getting. The outfit she had on tonight did her great justice at highlighting her beauty. Not saying what she normally wears doesn’t make her beautiful, just that I see those all the time. Seeing her in something else always get me worked up.

“Sometimes I forget home handsome you are in a suit.” That comment came out of nowhere, and threw me off. When I looked at her, she was giving me that smile that made me fall in love with her. The smile that had her eyes shining, her skin glowing, and makes the world around me stop. I just couldn’t help myself in kissing her. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.” That’s when I noticed we were hovering over our yard. I don’t want to wait till we’re inside to have her. I wanted her now. I readjusted her a bit, to where I easily carried her with one hand. With the other I started to undo the buttons of her blouse, while I kissed her. And what made it even more exciting was how she was wearing the bra that opened in the front. I then started to unbutton and unzip her pants. She tried telling me that we should probably finish inside. “Na.” I purred against her ear. “I want you like this.”

She then gasp as two of my fingers entered her already wet core. “Mm. What if I. Ah. Fall?” Silly wife. I would never let you fall. I lick and nipped her neck, as I moved in her at a slow pace. I used my thumb to work her wonderful clit, and enjoyed the breathless moans she made in my ear. “Goku. Ah. Please.” I added a small amount of ki to my hand, as I continued working her. “Goku. Mm. Not. Up here. AH!” As she came all over my fingers, I drowned her moans in a passionate kiss.

Once I retrieved my hand from her, I licked and sucked them clean of her wonderful juices. I then pulled her pants and panties down to her midthigh, and I did the same with my pants and boxers. With little effort I had her back press to my chest. Using my hand, I guided myself in her, and in one simple motion I was buried deep in her. As I thrusted into her, my hands played with her breast, as I attacked her neck. Hearing her moan in pleasure was music to my ears. I soon had her screaming my name as I thrusted harder, and biting her shoulder. Only sound I want to hear was hers.

One more thrust and she came all over me. “What’s gotten over you—” I covered her mouth, as I nip at my mark, and thrust faster. As I made her come one more time, she bit my hand, and I spilled myself all in her. After we caught our breath, I finally landed us in our front yard. To my disappointment, she was readjusting her clothes, to cover herself. Then she turned to me angrily. “What in the world came over you, GOKU? You never done that before! Why chose to do so now? On top of that, you were super late! You missed Gohan dancing with Videl.” She then had tears in her eyes. I was about ready to apologize, when she then had a smile. “Goku, is something the matter?” I was just dumbfounded. I readjusted my clothes and went to hug her. That’s when she really started to crying. As she sobbed in my chest, I tried comforting her.

What in the world did I do to upset her like this? Is she really upset I came late? But it wasn’t like I did on purpose. Was she upset about when we were intimate in the sky? Or is it something completely different? I kept trying to comfort her the best I could. “I’m sorry for whatever I did to upset you. Please don’t cry.” She kept sobbing, and it became harder. So, I picked her and brought her inside. I sat on the couch, with her in my lap. I kept trying to clam her down, but nothing is working. “What did I do wrong this time? Please tell me so I can fit it.”

She finally looked at me. “You didn’t do anything wrong. I’m just upset and happy at the same time.”

“Why?” I tried wiping a tear away, and she held my hand in place.

“It finally feels like I actually have you back, but same time something has change. Not saying it’s a bad change. We’re at peace. My Goku is making me so happy. But my Goku is having moments where he acts different.” Her smile then drops and she looks concerned. “What exactly happened to you during those 7 years? And don’t say you were mostly training and eating. What aren’t you telling me?” I kissed her and held her close.

“You’re right to think that. I was trying to avoid it for as long as I could. I just wanted to see you happy.”

“Goku?” She looked worried now.

“Like I said before, I had a lot of time to think about things. For example, you.” I held her close to my chest. “I thought everything I’ve done that hurt you. I thought finally got the chance to come to terms with being a sayian. And knowing the fact I could visit the family, I never knew about, it gave me hope to learn more about that side of me. I also visit grandpa a lot, and while there I witness a lot of married couples. They were nowhere like us.” She looked at me curiously. “I found it funny how the closes couple that was like us were actually my own parents. That was funny.” We giggled at that.

I then told her the multiple times I sunk to see them. Even though I wasn’t comfortable calling them my parents for a long while, it still felt right being with them. “I actually picked up a few things from them too.” She asked like what. “Like finding out that I had my mom’s personality, but mostly my dad’s looks. It still feels weird saying that.” We laughed a bit. “They want to meet you, when the time comes.” She then look shock.

“So, you’re telling me, when the day comes, I’ll finally meet my parent-in-laws?” She then started giggling. “But you haven’t told me how you changed.”

I then kissed her nose. “Maybe I’m trying to avoid that.” She then pouted, and asked why. “Do I have to say it?” She nodded her head. “Under King Kai’s watch, for the first 2 times, my dad was putting me through a typical sayian training. But the moment I was left alone, is when the real training began. I thought I already went through hard training. But this wasn’t any physical training.” She looked at me confused. “It was mental. I thought I already got passed all my mental blocks, when I was on Yardrat. But clearly, I didn’t. He said something about I just don’t have control anymore. I asked why, and it was because I was dead.”

“I don’t get that. Why being dead changed you?”

“I didn’t get it either, but King Kai even noticed something was different. It became harder for me to control my anger. Something I thought I finally had some control over. My emotions were just starting to let themselves go. It was weird. Especially since you weren’t there, and I couldn’t hold you whenever something upset me. Or I couldn’t tell you how much I love you. I even missed seeing Gohan.” That’s when I pulled out the wallet in my packet. She looked surprised. “I asked Bulma, during the camping trip, if she help have a picture of my family with me at all times. She suggested the wallet, and gave me pictures of all of you, during the 7 years I was gone.” I then opened to show her the first picture. “This one is my absolute favorite.” It was the picture of Chichi and Gohan holding a new born Goten. Chichi then had tears in her eyes, and started to kiss me.

“I love you.”

“I love you too.” I put the wallet away, and started carrying her to our room. “Now, for what I been wanting to do since I saw you in this outfit.” She started blushing as I set her down on the bed.

…

After what happened after that party, me and Goku spent a lot of a time together. On top of that, whenever the boys came home from school, Goku spent a great deal with them. Even got Gohan and Goten to study in the dining room, just so he could watch them study as he worked out. It was a fun sight. Tomorrow was Halloween, and everyone had plans. Gohan was going to a party with Videl and his friends. Piccolo and Yamcha agreed to take the kids trick or treating. And me and Goku were going to Bulma’s annual Halloween party. Everything was right with the world.

As I was getting ready for the party, I noticed Goku was still wearing his training gi. “I hope you’re not wearing that to the party.” He simply waved it off as a maybe. That actually got me upset. This would be our first Halloween together again, and he chooses that of all things. I was upset, to say the least, as we go to the party.

When we got there everyone was wearing a custom but him. Wait. Vegeta wasn’t wearing a custom either. Bulma then walked up to me. “Chichi I just love the angel custom you chose. You have to tell me where you found it.”

“Actually, I made it myself.” We soon went about how she wants me to make her custom next year, and maybe just make her outfits for Christmas too. I was so into our conversation I didn’t even noticed that the two sayians were nowhere to be seen. When I did notice, I asked Bulma where on earth could they have gone. She was giving off a suspicious smile, as she said she didn’t know.

Soon enough our husbands showed up again, and in actual customs. Vegeta was draped in a Roman custom fit for a king. No surprise there. But it’s Goku’s custom that grabbed my attention. He look like one of those gladiator warriors, just without the full armor and helmet. All he had was a single shoulder piece, the skirt like cloth, and the footwear. Oh my. Seeing him like that, almost showing off his great physique was breathtaking. “Chichi.” Someone was snapping their fingers in my face. When I noticed who, it was Bulma. “You’re drooling.” She was laughing, but I was feeling over the top embarrassed. During the whole party everyone was having fun. Then eventually the kids came from their trip, along with a very exhausted Piccolo and Yamcha. Soon, Gohan and Videl showed up, with who I assumed were their other friends. When Goku greeted the boys, their mouths drop in shock.

...

I can’t believe it. Is dad really dressed like that. “Oh my gosh, Gohan! That was your dad? He’s so hot.”

“Careful, Erasa, your boyfriend might get jealous.” Videl joked. When I looked at Sharpner, he looked ready to call it a night.

The party was fun, since not only Videl was with me, but other people my age. Beside the drooling looks Erasa gave my dad, it was fun. I even saw mom drooling whenever she looked at dad. It didn’t help that dad was also, kind of, showing off his strength. I think Vegeta was starting to get annoyed, and tried to out show dad. It looked ridiculous and hilarious. That’s when I felt someone poke my arm. I looked down at Videl. “Are they ok? They’re being very showy today.”

“Beats me.” Me and Videl were wearing matching custom. We decided to go as mob boss.

“Don’t you want to show off?”

“Show off what?” She then looked kind of sad. “I don’t really...”

“Yes, you do. Come on. It looks like fun.”

“What exactly are you asking me to do?”

“Nerd boy.” I looked to Sharpner. “I challenge you to an arm wrestle!” He can’t be serious. And to top it off, he said that loud enough that everyone heard. And now everyone is watching. Great just great. You happy now? Yes.

Soon Bulma got us a table to arm wrestle. I took off my jacket and lifted up my sleeves a bit. This shouldn’t rip anything. At least I pretend to be losing, till the last second, I beat him. There was a round of cheers, and then Krillin challenged me. Oh boy. Somewhere along the line, I was down to my undershirt, arm wrestling Vegeta. It was looking close until he gave his smirk, and beat me. Nope! Not going down like this. I can’t lose to him. “I demand a rematch!” I won that one, and it became a best two out of three. Vegeta officially won. Damn.

Before I could get up, to let the next person challenge the winner, dad challenged me. This wasn’t going to end pretty. Instead of using pure muscle alone, I tried talking about things to get him distracted. I thought it was working, and even thought I was making progress. But that was all a lie as I felt my knuckles touched the table, in defeat. It then became a match between dad and Vegeta. Dad won.

After that, everyone went back to their own little corner of the room. I found it funny had Sharpner wanted to compare muscles. I didn’t want to, but Videl insisted. Ended up with Videl poking my biceps. I would be lying if I said I wasn’t enjoying showing off a bit. Even though if you wanted a show, I wouldn’t have mind if it was just you. The way Videl blush was cute. And then I finally caught up what I just did. Where the heck did that come from?

…

After that little arm wrestle match with Vegeta the party seems to go by ok. The boys were having fun. Goten was even trading candies with Trunks and Marron. Gohan and Videl and their friends were chatting away, and eating snacks from the table. A certain wife kept looking away from me, every time I looked her way. I’m glad Bulma helped me pick this custom. Especially if it’s getting my wife face looking like that.

My wife was dressed up as something she always is to me. My sweet angel. The outfit hugged her body just right, and the way her hair was down was a nice touch. In contrast to every female in this room, she stood out. Only one wearing all white. No skin showing. On top of it all. I had her full attention. So, I used it to my advantage.

I challenged Vegeta to small little things, just to show off for her. Even Vegeta knew what I was doing, and actually joined in showing off. We both had our wives giggling, and trying to avoid eye contact with us.

When it was time to go home, I was glad Puar agreed to fly to my home, before the party was over. Made things easier to instant transmission. And I gave her a trip back to Yamcha. Once officially home, the boys ran to their rooms and I was left with Chichi.

“So, are you actually going to look at me, or do I have to make you?” I heard her giggle. She then said I had to make her, as she ran to the stairs. I’ll give her a fair head start. When I entered our room, she was sitting on the bed. I closed the door, and locked it. As I walked over to her, I transform to super sayian. She started giggling, and blushing like mad. “You like what you see?” She continued to giggle, and looked away.

“Careful dear. You might break your custom.” That was the least of my worries as I reached the bed.

“I won the battle, now I come to collect my prize.” She giggled, and asked what prize. I sat down next to her. “The heart of an angel.” She blushed as she looked at her fidgeting hands. I flexed my left arm in her face. “Does this not please you?” She giggled again.

“Goku, where did you learn all this stuff?”

“You know those times I asked if I could go spar with Vegeta?” She nodded her head. “Well, other than sparring, I asked Bulma help in trying to impress you. Vegeta was the one who suggested stuff on how a true sayian would impress his female. So, here I am, trying them out.” She grabbed my bicep and gave it a light squeeze. “Am I doing it right?”  She nodded. “Good. Now stop being angel, and be my wife. So, I could love you.” She blushed as she got up and took off her custom.

“But you have to stay in that.” She pointed to my custom, and I agreed. As much as I love admiring my wife, it was she was admiring me the whole night. As much as I was enjoying this, I enjoy admiring her more. Even when I tried to take control, she still found a way to make me stop. This would be the first time she actually, successfully, made it about me. Without me turning it back to being about her. no matter how many times, I was filling my own needs, I always made sure it was about her. My needs are her needs, and that what makes me happy. Knowing how I could make her feel so good, regardless how, always me climax. But tonight, she made me come more times than her. I was between complete bliss, and extremely upset. When all said and done, I was actually spent.

We’re now was just snuggling together, as we tried to fall asleep. A few kisses here and there. And exchanging how much we loved each other. “You know, whenever I was away, I was so sad I couldn’t snuggle with you. Like the best part of my day was missing, when I was away.” She started kissing my chin. “I mean it, too. And whenever I was coming back home, I would get super excited.” She asked why. “You. Gohan. And now Goten.” She smiled at that, and she snuggled closer. I kissed the top of her forehead. “You think you could go one more round?” She giggled.

“Go to sleep, Goku.” We shared one more kiss, and fell asleep.

…

The moment he sat on the bed, and started flexing, I just couldn’t stop looking away. Years I’ve tried showering him with the same affection, he showers me, but always ends up with it being turned back to me. Even on his birthday, it would turn to pleasing me. But tonight, I’m going to change that. As he spoke, I feel up on his strong arms. I was always impressed by his strength, and body. I was always attracted to him, and since the tournament, all those years ago, no other man had caught my eye. I been completely spoiled by him, and it’s the best feeling in the world.

Through out the whole party, it felt like he was showing off, just for me. And to him actually admit it was nice. Besides, the way he walked into our room. All filled with confidence, was a complete turn on. Then to feel his strength was another turn on. The way he was talking now, I was now feeling so empowered. This hunk of a man is all mine. This hunk of an alien god was all mine. The moment he told me to get undress, I felt an adrenaline rush. As I got undress, he was practically drooling as I slowly got every piece of my custom off. I had to keep telling him to sit back down, every time he got up. “Not this time, Goku.” He was pouting, but unlike before, he didn’t whine. That made this even better.

Once my clothes were off, I saddle his lap, and began to kiss his lips. Soon I moved to admire his shoulders. The lower I went his body I gave each battle scar I noticed some special attention. I even asked where each one came from. Like the scar from his battle with Piccolo, his father. His time fighting the Red Ribbon army. Even scars from his battle with Frieza, Cell, and Buu. I admired each one, and when I came to a little scar in between his neck and shoulder, I was slightly confused. When I asked where he got that one, he said that one was me. “It’s actually my favorite one.” I could help blush at that, and then I asked why. “It’s the one you gave me on our wedding night.”

“How is it your favorite?”

“Because my wife gave it to me. Every time someone asks me about it, I proudly say you gave it to me. Everyone looked at me crazy.” I kissed at licked it. Maybe it’ll give him the same effect as his. I then felt his hands on my hips. “Every time we have nights of marking each other, I tend to admire every mark you leave me. Sometimes I wish they would actually stay longer then a day or two.” I showered his face with kisses.

Soon he was naked under me, while I rode him and admiring him. It was hard trying to hold back my own climax, as I tried to make him come multiple times. A few times, feeling his hot seed fill me almost made me come, but I had to hold off. I could tell it upset him, but I was doing it for him. And when I finally did let myself climax, I had to bite my hand to hold back my scream of pleasure. It then turn to him making me bite him as I came. Soon, I had bit almost every muscle on his body, and covered with him.

By the time we did settle for the night, he had the biggest smile I have ever seen. “See what happens when you let me take over.” I couldn’t help giggle, as he kissed my neck.

“Yeah. Thank you. But don’t think you’ll always be able to.” I jokingly slapped his chest. He kissed my forehead. “You think you could go one more round?”

“Go to sleep, Goku.” We shared one more kiss, and fell asleep.

--------

Ch87

[victorluvsalice]

-->Victor admittedly did do some actual gardening as well -- in the form of me having him use up all the pet poops in his inventory (along with one compost pile) to fertilize various plants. XD Look, we don’t want them sitting around stinking up his pockets, do we? And the regime seems to be working -- quite a lot of Victor’s garden could be evolved today! Slowly but surely everything he produces shall be of magnificent quality. :D

-->As per usual, while this was going on, Smiler was on chicken duty -- making sure the coop was clean, the chickens fed, stuff like that. Though today’s rounds were a bit more exciting, in that we had another fox appearance! It ATTEMPTED to savage one of the roosters (I’m not sure which), but the rooster kicked it off and led all the chickens to go hide in the coop. Smiler chased the little bugger away shortly thereafter, and was rewarded for their efforts by getting to pet Leghorna! :) How cute. (Please, uh, ignore the hearts coming out of the coop in the background. XD)

-->What Smiler didn’t get today was fresh plasma -- while I was sending them inside to see if I could have them, Victor, and Alice sneak in a bit of romantic TV while the power was on, I spotted someone by the name of Roxana Lopes on the front porch. Apparently Smiler knew her, so I decided, “Hey, might as well get them some of the good stuff straight from the wrist” and sent them outside to socialize! The initial conversation went well, with Smiler sharing the Love Day spirit, singing about Love Day, and giving Roxana a pep talk --

But when it came time to ask her for some plasma, she pulled out a lump of clay, and -- yeah. The interaction kept timing out as she insisted on playing with it. -.- I eventually got tired of waiting for her to finish after the third time and had Smiler send her home. Looks like you’re stuck with PlasmaFizz for the moment buddy! Sorry!

-->That little incident also reminded me that it was already 1 PM in game, and that nobody had done anything especially romantic yet! So, after having Alice use her meditative prowess to surge some passion, I had Victor ask her out on a date --

To ThrifTea in Copperdale! Yeah, I hadn’t actually visited the High School Years world yet, and it looked to be a vaguely more romantic place than the rec center in San Sequoia. XD So off Victor, Alice, and Smiler went --

-->Wait -- Smiler? Yes, indeed -- I discovered something very interesting about dates this particular playsession. Namely, that you CAN still have other people in your household join the couple if you chose the “Bring [Sim Name] Here” option when you click on their portrait.

And if you do so, the date UI will show up for them too.

Now, I don’t think anything Smiler did actually COUNTED toward the date -- they goofed off a bit early on with Alice, and I didn’t see if it actually counted as “socializing with your date” on the goals or not. But even it’s just a weird glitch, it made me kind of happy to think that they were KIND OF on a polycule date. :) More testing required in the future, methinks!

-->Anyway -- right, yes, Love Day date at ThrifTea! Victor started off the date right by sending his swarm of bees to woo his lady love while Smiler finished off their PlasmaFizz. . .

#sims 4 #the lazy save #victor van dort #alice liddell #smiler always #gotta use up those poops #I dunno how good of a fertilizer they actually are these days #but they're convenient when you have a dog #plus Victor has his bees for extra plant-improving power #so that's something #and yes Smiler was absolutely thrilled to pet a chicken #as per their moodlets XD #it is very cute #maybe if they keep working on their relationship they can work up to hugs :) #just so annoyed about Roxana and that damn clay though >( #I was so excited about Smiler maybe getting some fresh plasma #and then she started molding clay and wouldn't stop #I mean I suppose Smiler can STOP being polite about getting plasma #they've already completed Good Vampire #but I dunno #I've kind of made it their thing now #still want that consensual compel back... #and yes ThrifTea won out over the rec center #though I have plans for the gang to visit San Sequoia later #those splash pads should be useful for SimCity Founding... #and yes you can woo people with bees #it's pretty hilarious XD #queued

[personalizedtumblers]

Personalized tumblers

A Comprehensive Guide to Creating the Perfect Personalised Tumbler

Are you looking to create the perfect customised water bottle or tumbler? Whether you’re gifting it to someone special or treating yourself, this comprehensive guide will show you exactly how to personalise your own unique tumbler in a few simple steps. From selecting the right materials to creating the perfect artwork, we’ll help you create the perfect Personalized tumblers you’ve been dreaming of! With a little bit of effort, you can have an amazing tumbler that’s both stylish and functional

Designing and Creating Your Own Customised Tumbler

Creating your own custom tumbler is a fun and creative way to make a unique statement. With some basic design principles and a few simple tools, you can make a unique tumbler that will stand out from the rest. First, you’ll need to decide on a design for your tumbler. You can either go for something simple like a monogram or get creative with a graphic or pattern. Next, you should consider the material you’ll use to make your tumbler. Traditional materials like stainless steel or plastic will last longer, while more modern materials like acrylic offer a unique look.

Once you have your design and material, it’s time to start crafting. You can use a range of tools to create your tumbler – from a jigsaw to a drill press, depending on the complexity of your design. Once you’ve finished making the tumbler, you can make it even more unique by adding decorations such as stickers, charms, and rhinestones. With a few simple steps, you’ll have a one-of-a-kind tumbler that shows off your own personal style.

How to Create the Perfect Personalised Tumbler

Creating the perfect personalised tumbler can be a surprisingly easy task if you have the right tools. First, you need to decide on the type of tumbler you want. There are many different materials and sizes available, so make sure to choose the one that best fits your needs.

Once you have the tumbler chosen, you will need to decide on a design. This can include a logo, slogan, or even a photo. Some online stores provide design templates that make it easy to create a unique look. Alternatively, you can use a graphics program to create a custom design.

The Advantages of Having Customised Water Bottles

Customised water bottles are becoming increasingly popular among people of all ages. With the ability to personalise them, it’s no wonder why many are turning to customised water bottles for their hydration needs. There are many advantages to having customised water bottles, some of which include:

Personalised water bottles are much easier to carry around than traditional water bottles. This makes them great for outdoor activities such as hiking or camping. Additionally, they’re also much easier to transport in a bag or purse.

Customised water bottles can help you express your own unique identity. With the range of designs, colours and materials available, you can create a bottle that stands out from the crowd and shows off your personal style.

Customised water bottles are often made from high-quality, durable materials. This ensures that your bottle will stay in great condition for years to come.

#Engraved tumblers #Personalized tumblers

[itsallyscorner]

Baby’s First Heartbreak

pairing: marvel cast x teen!fem!reader, Scarlett Johansson x reader, Elizabeth Olsen x reader

prompt: the youngest member of the marvel cast experiences her first breakup.

warnings: not much—crying, a break up.

A/n: Tom is 19 here because this is set during Civil War. He was such a baby omg🥺

You were always a firm believer in having hope. No matter what the situation was, you knew that you had to at least try before fully giving up. You were only 18, but it was the mindset you grew up with. You were taught to face things with bravery and confidence, you faced things head to head with all your might. Though some things never went the way you planned, you were still the ray of sunshine you were, all bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, eager to learn and explore the world.

You had the same mindset going into your first relationship. Love was something you’ve always wanted to experience. Sure, you received it from your friends and family. But you wanted the different kind of love. The special one that was shared between two people. The one that made your heart skip a beat and made you breathless. Where staring into that special someone’s eyes felt like you were being transported into another world where it was just the two of you.

You’ve found that kind of love in a boy from your hometown. The two of you had been friends since pre-k, growing up along side each other, and being there for each other’s success and failures. You’ve known him all your life but the feelings didn’t come till sophomore year of high school. It all just clicked all of sudden; that one day where he said you looked cute in his jumper and the next moment you knew you were seeing him in a new light. Junior year, you were both beating around the bush; constantly pining over each other with longing stares and fingers always brushing against each other. Though you didn’t see him all the time due to your job as an actress. You spent half of the school year in your hometown and the rest at Atlanta. Of course he knew of your job and as much as he hated to see you go, he knew you were doing something that made you happy. So he spent as much time as he could with you before your time together came to an end. A few days prior to your flight to Atlanta, under the night sky of your backyard, he admitted his feelings for you. By senior year, the two of you had been dating for half a year. It had been the best moments of your life, you were in love and high on happiness, it was like nothing in life could ever go wrong.

Now here you were, in your trailer on the set of Captain America: Civil War, sobbing you eyes out. You knew loving could hurt, but not this much. You still felt your heart skip a beat, but it was clenching in heartache. You were still breathless, but because you’ve been trying to catch your breath after every sob that wracked your body. You felt broken. The boy you loved had ripped your heart out of your chest and threw it onto the floor, stomping on it till it stopped beating.

You hiccuped as you stared at yourself in the mirror. You were nothing but a fool. A fool who had hope in something that was never going to work. You sniffled as you snatched tissues out of the box on your bathroom sink, dabbing the material onto your eyes and blowing your nose. Your eyes were red and your cheeks were puffy. A sigh of frustration releases from your body. There was no way you could walk onto set without people asking you what was wrong.

You debated asking your assistant to ask your designated makeup artist to do your makeup in your trailer, you didn’t want to be a bother. But your thumbs were already shamefully typing away the request on your phone. A few minutes later Eleanor, your makeup artist on set, arrives at your trailer with her supplies in hand.

She doesn’t directly question you, but she has the look of a concerned mother once she sees your face. You lie to her and tell her you weren’t having a good day and chalked it up to being homesick.

You dreaded going on set. You weren’t sure if you could face anyone without bursting into tears. The moment you felt like you were okay, your heart would clench, reminding you of the ache it was feeling.

You were in your costume, sitting on the sidelines of the set while you rehearsed your lines. The dialogue from the script acted as a distraction from the current pain you were feeling. The tears had stopped but your eyes felt dry, making you blink multiple times to keep them wet.

“Hey, sweetheart.” You look up and meet the stunning blue eyes of Chris Evans. That typical goofy smile of his was etched onto his features. Usually you would reciprocate that smile, but today you just couldn’t find it in your heart to do so. His smile falters when he sees your face.

“Morning.” You greet him, forcing a smile. Concern shadows on his face as he shifts a bit closer to you. “You alright?” He asks, eyes softening at you. Being the youngest of all the Avengers cast members, everyone had a soft side for you. Especially Chris, who saw you as a daughter.

“Y-yeah, I’ve just got—allergies.” You lied, another fake smile forcing itself onto your lips.

“Well have you taken something to help your allergies? Do you need Allegra? Claritin or something?” He looked around ready to call one of the runners on set to get you some meds.

“No! I took some already, a few minutes ago! It probably hasn’t kicked in yet.” You tell him. He eyes you reluctantly, not knowing if he should believe you. He decides to let it pass and nods, “Ok, tell me if you need anything though.”

You hum in response and tilt your head down back to your script.

The day goes on and everyone had caught on to your lack of—being you. The infamous smile everyone knew you by was barely on your face. You didn’t crack jokes with Anthony or share a giggle with Elizabeth. Instead you were quiet, a frown was on your face as you stared blankly at the floor. You didn’t interact with anybody, keeping to yourself and walking off set whenever one of the Russos called cut.

Anthony and Sebastian watched as you walked off the set. You have all finished a sequence of the airport scene and the Russos had given everyone a break while they rewatched the scenes they shot. Anthony’s brows furrowed while he watched your figure go further and further away. He had tried to cheer you up, telling you a joke about how Seb’s arm lube kept leaking out his fake arm. Your response was nothing but a fake laugh—it wasn’t even a fake laugh, more like a huff of laughter.

“She didn’t laugh at my joke.” Anthony thought aloud. Sebastian quirked an eye at his friend, “Does she have to laugh at all your jokes?”

“No, but even if I tell her a corny ass joke, she’ll still laugh at it.” He expressed, throwing his arms up. Sebastian’s lip pouted as he thought back to your behavior on set. You were acting unusual. He turns to Tom (Holland) and asks, “Hey, has (y/n) said anything to you? Like anything bothering her?”

The Brit shakes his head, “Um, nope. Besides filming, I haven’t spoken to her today.”

Anthony crosses his arms, approaching Tom, “Have you tried speaking to her? We’ve been trying to figure out what’s been going on with her today and you’re the closest to her age here.”

“I—I tried to talk to her, but she didn’t seem in a talking mood. I thought I was bothering her so I just stopped.” Tom answered. He gestures to the direction of the trailers, “I could check up on her right now? Maybe I’ll get her one of her favorite snacks from crafties, it might cheer her up.”

Half of a smile makes it way onto Sebastian’s face at the boy’s efforts. Though you were clearly upset and he felt like they were all prodding at your privacy. “Maybe we should give her some time alone.”

Tom frowns at the older man, “But (y/n)’s upset. Shouldn’t we do something?” Anthony agrees with Tom and looks at Sebastian.

Seb raises his hands up in defense, “I’m just saying—maybe she wants to be alone. She went back to her trailer away from everybody. She probably doesn’t want us shoving our noses into her business, we should respect that.”

Chris joins the group along with Scarlett and Elizabeth. He had overhead the group talking and urged the two ladies to join him in on the conversation.

“You guys talking about (y/n)?” Chris asks, hands on his waist.

“Yeah, Seb says we should leave her be.” Anthony fills him in.

“She told me she had allergies.” Chris starts. “She’s an amazing actress, but kid’s gotta work on the lying.” He finishes. Elizabeth and Scarlett glance at each other.

“Well has anyone talked to her at all today? Besides Chris?” Elizabeth asked the group. Everyone shakes their head. Elizabeth sighs while looking around at anyone else who could’ve talked to you. She spots Eleanor hanging along the sides with her makeup belt on, ready for touch ups. Elizabeth calls her over. Eleanor has her brush ready to powder her down, but Elizabeth politely declines.

“You do (y/n)‘s makeup right?”

Eleanor nods, “Yeah, I do.”

“How was she this morning? We’re just a bit concerned since she’s been acting different today.” Eleanor sighs, knowing if she told them it would be an invasion of your privacy. Although, they were all concerned for you and so was she.

“I got a text from her assistant telling me to do her makeup in her trailer today.” She began. “I walked in and her eyes were red, cheeks puffy—“

Chris apologizes and interrupts her, “Because of allergies?”

Eleanor shakes her head, “No, she never mentioned anything about allergies. But she looked like she’s been crying. She was wiping her face when I arrived.”

“Did she give you a reason for why she was crying?” Scarlett questions her.

“She told me she was feeling homesick.” Eleanor answered. Scarlett turned to Chris and shared a look. Elizabeth thanks Eleanor then turns back to the group.

“We need to check up on her.” Anthony says. All the men nodded and began to make their way to your trailer. Suddenly, they were stopped by Scarlett and Elizabeth.

“But (y/n)—“ Tom said pointing to the trailers. Scarlett shakes her head, placing a hand on his shoulder.

“Lizzie and I will go. You guys are gonna overwhelm her with all your questions.” Scarlett insists, much to the men’s dismay. They wanted to be there for you, but maybe a mother figure might help you open up with what’s bothering you. They agree and let the two women go to your trailer. Before they can get to you, they get some snacks from crafties for you.

As soon as you shut the trailer’s door behind you, the tears welled up in your eyes again. It only took a matter of seconds until they fell from your eyes and down your cheeks. You heard some people walk by outside and cover your mouth to muffle the whimpers that came out your mouth. You slid down the door and shoved your head into your hands. You leaned forward against your knees as you cried into your arms. You felt pathetic, embarrassed, anger; you were feeling so many things and the only way to let them all out seemed to be crying.

They heard your cries from behind the door. Scarlett sends Elizabeth an alarmed look as she rushes up to your door. She knocked on it repeatedly, causing you to jump from behind the door. Your cries come to a stop while you try to wipe away the tears as best as you can.

“(Y/n), honey, please open the door.” You hear Scarlett say. You remain silent, getting up and dusting your legs off. You stare at the door, debating whether you should open it or not.

“(Y/n), everyone’s worried about you. We just want to help.” Another voice coaxes you behind the door. Elizabeth. “Please let us in.”

Outside, the two women had their ears pressed up against your trailer’s door. Scarlett tries to get you to open the door again, “It’s only me and Lizzie. I promise.”

There was some shuffling heard behind the door. The door pushes open slowly, making Scarlett and Elizabeth back away. A worried expression appears on Scarlett’s face once she sees you. She cups your cheeks, her thumbs gently swiping away some tears that fell from your eyes. The two of them shuffle inside your trailer. You burst out into tears once again when Scarlett wraps her arms around you. She moves you both to sit on the couch that was in your trailer. She lets you shove your head into the crook of her neck while her hands smoothed your hair. Elizabeth sits behind you rubbing circles onto your back. Your cries broke both their hearts. You were a fairly happy girl, to see you in such pain and heartache was hard to watch.

Scarlett rocks you back and forth, trying to calm you down by whispering comforting words into your ear. She presses a motherly kiss onto your forehead once she sees you start to calm down. Elizabeth waits patiently beside you waiting for when you’re ready to talk. When your whimpers turned into hiccups, Scarlett pulls your face away from her neck to look at you. She frowns when she sees your tear stained cheeks.

“Are you going to tell us what’s going on or are you going to keep bottling it up to yourself?” She asks you softly, tucking strands of your hair behind your ears. Elizabeth chimes in from behind you, “You know, sometimes it helps to tell others what’s bothering you. You don’t have to keep it to yourself, (y/n), you could talk to us.” She gathers your hair together, splitting it into two parts as she began to fish tail braid your hair. 

You take a moment to compose yourself before eyeying the two women. You knew you could trust them. Scarlett was like your on-set mom and Lizzie was like one of your aunts. If you could tell anyone on set what was going on, it would be them.

“He broke up with me.” You confess, eyes trained on your lap. Lizzie’s fingers stop braiding your hair, “What?”

“Peyton, he broke up with me.” You whined, not wanting to say it again. You fiddle with your fingers while a tear falls to your lap.

“Oh honey.” Scarlett cooes pulling you back into her chest. You sniffle and wrap your arms around her torso. Silently crying into her shoulder.

“Did he give you a reason why?” Lizzie asks softly. You move away from Scarlett’s hold and lean against the couch with your knees to your chest. Lizzie wraps an arm around your shoulder for comfort.

You glanced at your phone that was on the coffee table, “H-he texted me earlier this morning. He said he couldn’t do the long distance thing anymore and that he has feelings for somebody else.”

Anger flashes in Scarlett’s eyes, “He broke up with you over a text message?” You nod in response.

“What a dick.” She mutters glaring at your phone. It’s quiet for a few minutes. Until you ask them, “Am I not worth trying for a long distance relationship?”

Lizzie shakes her head, “No, don’t you ever think that because you are.”

You sigh and throw your head back, “Then why did he break up with me? Is there something wrong with me? Am I not pretty enough?” Scarlett interrupts your questions by shushing you.

“There is not a damn thing wrong about you. Don’t you ever let a man, let alone a boy, make you question your worth.” Scarlett advises you a stern look on her face. “You are the most sweetest and loveliest girl I have ever met in my life. You’re kind, you care about the people around you—you even laugh at Anthony’s stupid jokes.”

Lizzie snorts beside you and squeezes your shoulder, “And his jokes are the worst.”

Scarlett continues, “You are a talented young woman already making it big in the movie industry and you did it all on your own. You are beautiful inside and out. You’re perfect, there’s nothing wrong with you.”

“Then why did he leave me?”

“Because he’s an idiot that doesn’t know your worth.” Lizzie answers resting her head on your shoulder. “I know it hurts now but these things happen for a reason. He wasn’t meant for you and you weren’t meant for him. Maybe somewhere in the future you guys will meet and try again. Or maybe you’ll move on with someone new. That’s just how it is. It may sound harsh, but it’s the truth.”

Scarlett nods at Lizzie, “Take it from me, I’ve been married twice. When it seems like you found that special person, sometimes it’ll all come crashing down. And it’s not an easy thing to go through. It’s full of pain, heartache, self doubt and a bunch of other heart wrenching things. But in the end you come out a stronger version of yourself.”

You stare at Scarlett, “How did you do it?”

Scarlett softly smiles at you, “Well, I had lots of friends who supported me every step of the way. But most importantly, I valued myself. I did things that made me happy and took care of myself mentally and physically.”

You bite your lip in thought as you stare at the ground.

“Listen to me.” Scarlett urges you, “You’re young, (y/n). You’re going to meet so many more people in the future that’ll bring you so much happiness and love in your life. Don’t beat yourself up over one boy who decided to leave you because he wasn’t committed for a long distance relationship. You’re going to be okay.” She assures you, cradling your face. Your lips form into a tight smile while you nod in response.

“You have us and the rest of the people outside of this trailer to support you. We’ll always have your back, whatever it is, I promise you that. You’re not going to go through this by yourself.” Lizzie promises you, taking your hand into hers. You hum and rest your head on her shoulder. You pull on Scarlett’s arm to join you and Lizzie. She chuckles and hugs you from behind.

“Thank you guys.” You whisper, genuinely grateful that you had them in your life. Lizzie pecks your temple, “Anytime darling.”

#marvel #marvel cast x reader #marvel cast x teen!reader #mcu #avengers #chris evans #chris evans x reader #chris evans imagines #Scarlett Johansson #Scarlett Johansson x reader #elizabeth olsen x reader #avengers x reader #avengers x teen!reader #Tom Holland #Sebastian Stan #anthony mackie #tom holland x reader #sebastian stan x reader #anthony mackie x reader

[smp-live]

The apocalypse happened a few years ago. And- it's vague, the apocalypse. It's not some big earth-shattering moment. It's confused tv reports and impulse decisions and little growing bits of tension until the pot boils over.

The details are fuzzy; it all happened so quickly that many civilians were left unaware of what exactly went down. One day, they were living, and the next, most weren't.

Nukes, EMPs, solar flares - the survivors find it doesn't matter. One way or another, the world ended, millions died, and everything’s different. Hostile. Harsh. Unforgiving. The sun is bright and searing, and radiation burns skin not covered head-to-toe.

People are cruel and will take advantage of anything they can. If you're not a part of an already-existing group, good luck.

Somehow, two men end up on a wooden pallet floating in the middle of the ocean. Maybe it was a plane crash, one of the few still running downed by a stray shot; maybe a boat capsized, embrittled by the radiation. Same as the apocalypse, it doesn't matter. What does is that now they’re surrounded by debris and a shark thirsting for blood and there’s one thing they both know: trust no-one.

So they don’t. Names hold power, as they’ve learnt over the past few years; names imply trust. When it becomes apparent they’re stuck together and the time comes to introduce themselves, the elder of the two stares out to sea and says, “Call me...” And that phrase brings back memories of a book he’d read long ago, in the Before Days, and so he finishes, “Ishmael.”

The younger panics and blurts out the first thing that comes to mind: “I’m Gunk.”

‘Ishmael’ raises a skeptical eyebrow, clearly amused. “Gunk,” he repeats. And ‘Gunk’ nods, crosses his arms.

“Yeah, bitch. It’s...” his mind blanks, “Russian.”

Ishmael’s brow climbs further, and he looks on the verge of laughing, lips twisting ever-so-slightly upward. “Last name?”

“Uh,” Gunk wracks his brain, and something from a history class, years ago, stands out. Nearly forgotten amongst all the useless information - what he calls anything that doesn’t directly contribute to survival, nowadays - and only clinging on through his brain classifying it as ‘important’ for God-knows-why. “Gorbachov.”

“Like... Michael Gorbachov?” There’s a hint of laughter in Ishmael’s tone now, the first in a while. He tries not to let that thought depress him.

Gunk nods, relieved at the reminder of the rest of the name, even if he still can’t place it. “Yeah. He was my father.”

“Michael Gorbachov, eighth and final leader of Soviet Russia, was your father,” Ishmael deadpans, and, frustrated at having been outplayed, Gunk scowls.

“What of it?” he challenges, which makes Ishmael laugh, throwing his head back to the blistering sun high above.

“Okay, Gunk,” he says, and yet it doesn’t feel patronizing.

They both know the other is lying, that much is obvious from the constant teasing and jokes about Gunk’s ‘father.’ But it doesn’t matter, because in the slow turning of the days, they grow close. After all, there’s not much to do on a makeshift raft in the middle of the ocean, other than chat.

Ishmael is handy, and the main reason for their survival. He knows how to purify water and fillet a fish, how to add on to their raft without nails and swim against the ocean current. Gunk wonders where he picked all that up, but never asks.

(A survivalist father and paranoid brother, whom Ishmael hasn’t seen in half a decade. The thought that they’re probably still alive brings him comfort.)

Gunk, on the other hand, does most of the grunt work. Fishing in debris that floats by, diving down for rocks when they briefly dock, and the ever-important duty of keeping the shark they named Clive from destroying their miserly raft. He keeps up a steady stream of chatter through it all, and Ishmael thinks that’s what makes the monumental effort to go on worth it. Then, he wonders when he let himself get attached.

(It was a week or so in, when Gunk had fashioned himself a shelf out of the bottom of a storage bin and some planks, and proclaimed it his ‘comfort shelf.’ Gunk felt the same when Ishmael didn’t tell him to dismantle it, only pushed it aside, even though they were supposed to use that wood to repair Clive’s last attack.)

They survive, they grow closer, they hesitantly trust, and yet, they don’t pry. They don’t share their real names. Not until one day.

Ishmael goes swimming out to a nearby island to scavenge for food and chop down a few trees, if he can manage. Gunk stays on the ship - an anchor is next on their to-do list, and so he’s responsible for keeping it from drifting off with his tiny paddle. Except it’s not well-crafted, and grey jaws reach up to snap at the wood he’s standing on so he uses it to stab Clive, and the tip breaks off. The raft starts drifting away.

“Ishmael!” he calls, then again, louder, “Ishmael! Fuck, man!” But he’s nowhere to be seen, and the current is dragging Gunk awfully far out from the island.

He keeps calling, shouting, screaming, increasingly panicked at leaving his friend, the man who’d helped him survive for months, now, behind. Until his voice grows hoarse the way it never did from rambling for hours on end, and a little speck appears on the beach of the island.

Ishmael waves widely at him, and he must be shouting but Gunk can’t hear it over the lapping of the waves. So he assumes what was said, hollers, “I can’t fuckin’ come back, arsehole!” and raises the remains of the paddle over his head to clarify.

The speck stills, then bursts into motion, tossing everything he’s holding aside and shucking his shoes. Gunk can practically hear him mutter about what an “ridiculous child” he is, because although they’ve never shared their ages Ishmael’s decided he’s the elder of the two, which obviously means Gunk is a child.

And then Ishmael dives into the water, and he’s closing the distance between himself and the raft with each stroke. He cuts a straight line through the waves, until he suddenly swerves to the left. Gunk is confused a moment, before he notices - a grey fin jutting out of the water next to him.

Clive goes in for another pass, then another, and Ishmael jukes him out both times. He’s maybe five meters away, now, but the shark is coming back so Gunk screams. But Ishmael’s head is underwater, and he doesn’t hear. Just keeps going, towards safety he won't make it to.

Clive barrels into him. Ishmael vanishes underwater.

He doesn’t come back up.

Gunk is diving in before he can properly think, pushing past the cold shock of the sea, as he uses his self-taught skills to bring him to where he guesses Ishmael last was. Then, he takes a deep breath, squeezes his eyes shut, and goes under.

After a nervewracking few moments, his elbow bumps into something and he latches on, desperately dragging it upwards. They break the surface and he gasps for breath, Ishmael limp against him.

The trip back is agonizing. Ishmael is deadweight, their clothes are waterlogged, and Gunk has never been the best swimmer. But Clive is still lurking, and he refuses to drown after all this time, so he manages to drag them both back to the raft through pure willpower and spite.

Gunk collapses next to where he’d heaved Ishmael onto the planks, taking a second to compose himself. Shivering violently, he curls into a ball - he'll have to go for a spare change of clothes. His eyes drift shut. In a moment.

Then, panic seizes his heart as he becomes aware of how still Ishmael is. He jerks up, staring at him, searching for any sign of life, anything-

But a moment later he relaxes, when Ishmael rolls over and starts heaving out saltwater. Gunk reaches over and pats him on the back until it subsides, and he falls back onto the wood.

“You,” Ishmael says, letting his eyes flutter shut, “are so stupid.”

Gunk feels a burst of indignation. “Hey, what the fuck! I just saved your dumbass, Ish-ma-el.” He scowls at Ishmael’s placid little twist of the lips.

“Wilbur,” he murmurs, hands folded over his chest.

“What?”

“My name is Wilbur.”

Oh.

“I’m Tommy,” he says after a moment of silence where it sinks in, what he’d just been told, the trust laid on him, and then lays down next to Ishmael - Wilbur, now.

Wilbur just hums and wraps an arm under his shoulders, tugging him close - which is new; they’re really going all-in with this trust thing, huh? - then says, “So, so stupid.”

“Oi,” Tommy protests, but leans in closer.

Things aren’t really visibly different, after that. They still bicker, still do the same daily tasks, still slip up and call each other ‘Ishmael’ and ‘Gunk’ - though it becomes less and less common, other than with a teasing tone. They finally get their anchor, which means Tommy has the chance to go on land; though he quickly grows to dislike it after an incident with a particularly pissed-off boar.

To an outsider, everything remains the same. But to the inhabitants of the raft, it feels different. More homely. Warmer.

Once, after Wilbur chides Tommy over something or another, Tommy rolls his eyes and says, “You know, we really are like brothers.” He tries to keep his tone joking, and to not let himself hope for the words to be true.

Wilbur freezes. “Don’t say that; I’ll cry.” He blinks once to keep the tears at bay, and tries to push down the warmth in his chest.

(They both fail.)

About four months in, a light appears in the distance, at night. They angle their sail towards it and the dark shadow on the horizon. A few days later, it becomes apparent what it is: a lighthouse.

Inhabited land. Civilization.

They gather their meagre supplies once they dock, then ditch the raft in favour of climbing the lighthouse. And, from the top, off over a hill, Wilbur spots it first, points it out to his brother, who squints-

A Dome.

#wilbur soot #tommyinnit #Fic #enderspeak #sbi rust #crimeboys #Love how we all saw that stream and went #''Yes. Those are the Rust boys.'' #Also I can't write anymore apparently. Pain

[iwadori]

Haikyu Boys when they make you insecure PT 2(Atsumu,Suna)

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3  Part 4  Part 5 Part 6

word count: 1.6K

Genre: angst,fluff

Masterlist

Atsumu:

You have been dating the great setter of the MSBY Jackals since your third year in highschool 

You’ve always been okay with his profession 

Even when it comes with the adoring fans he has (the ones that don’t necessarily like you..)

And the away games he goes to, that you can’t always go to because of your job.

You and Atsumu got to spend all of quarantine together, which was challenging at times. As you and Atsumu sometimes did have conflicting personalities but you loved being together for 8months + altogether. 

But now with the restrictions being lifted, Atsumu got to go back to practice and playing some games although you still got to work from home. Over lockdown, you do feel like you gained a bit of weight (which you didn’t pay much attention to since didn’t everyone gain some weight?) 

However, today you were scrolling through twitter, smiling fondly at the recent tweet ‘tsumu made about you;

@ ThebetterMiya: ‘Remember this @ *Insert your twitter handle here* ‘ 

It was a picture of the two of you in high school in your second year, with you giving Atsumu a hug just after his game against Karasuno. The memory made you smile, but your positive thoughts stopped after seeing a particular comment... “Y/N has definitely let herself go” it read.

 To your surprise Atsumu even liked the comment, you didn’t want to overthink things as you know that Atsumu just unconsciously likes comments and tweets without thinking all the time. But you can’t lie and say you didn’t agree with the comment. 

For the rest of the day, you spent your time googling and searching personal trainers and gyms that were open for you to go to and new healthy diet plans to try

.Atsumu came home a while later, tired and grumpy claiming that coach worked him extra hard in practice. Because of your newfound idea to start eating and being more healthy, you decided to have one last day of ‘letting go’ so your ordered yours and ‘tsumu’s favourite take out.

Whilst eating dinner, you were going INNN as you should  because this is basically your ‘last meal’ you were going to have. ‘tsumu caught onto your cavemen-like way of eating which made him chuckle a bit. “Hey babe, woahh you’re really hungry aren’t ya?” 

His comment threw you off, even though you know that he probably didn’t mean anything by it but from the comment on his twitter earlier and how you already feel about yourself it just didn’t help.

“Well what do you mean about that?” you say a little agressively “you think i’m getting bigger right?”

Your question threw him off guard since he didn’t mean that “well Y/N I know you’ve kinda let youself go a bit and you’re obviously not the weight you were when we 16 but-” before he could finish you get up out of your seat and rushed to your room with tears in your eyes, missing the end of his sentence which was “but I still think you’re beautiful” he murmurs.

He decided to give you some space for a bit, and before approaching he see’s your phone ringing (lets just say you and Atsumu have ultimate trust so you can answer eachothers phones :3) “Hello is this Y/N L/N” the person on the otherside of the phone asked 

“No, this is Miya Atsumu” your boyfriend replied 

“Oh! Miya-san i’m a big fan of you!” he started making Atsumu chuckle “I was just calling Y/N to say i’m available next week saturday to start training”

‘Training?’ Atsumu thought “Can I ask what training you’re preparing for with Y/N” he asks

“Oh I am a personal trainer.” he replied “ Well that’s all I can say, can you please tell Y/N-san to call me again so we can work out times.” he ended the call.

Atsumu goes into your shared-bedroom where he finds you on your laptop looking at ‘weight loss’ tips. He goes over to you and closes your laptop lid and pulls your hand to lead you to the mirror in the room. He stands you in front of it and puts his arms around your waist and his head on your shoulder.

“You’re beautiful Y/N” he says, sparking more tears in your eyes “I think you misunderstood what I said earlier, you. are. goregous. babe” he says punctuating every single word. “Even, if you feel like you gained weight, or lost weight or whatever I will always think your beautiful. If you feel like you want or need to change I will definitely support you along the way, but I think you’re amazing Y/N.”

“Thank you ‘tsumu” you start “ I do feel a bit insecure about the way I look right now, and I’m sorry for my abrupt leave at dinner but I do feel like my body is gross but I do want to try to see myself the way you see me.”

After many efforts from Atsumu, you definitely fell back in love with your body wether you were bigger or small you didn’t care cause you knew you were beautiful either way and so did Atsumu which he reminded you of that every single day.

AN: Can someone give me a synonym for beautfiul lmao cause that’s the only word I can think to use lol.

Suna:

You and Suna have always surprised people when they find out that you’re together.

Since your loud and talkative personality mixed with his quiet and nonchalantness is that a word? seems to not work well for other people

But opposites attract right?

You just finished the last episode of Kakegurui and were excited for your boyfriend to come home so you can tell him about it. You and Suna have been dating for a few years, after you confessed to him in front of all the boys in the gym in your 3rd year.

Suna enters the house mumbling a soft “Hi Y/N” to which you responded back with “Hi suna” rushing towards your boyfriend with a big hug. 

He slightly recoiled back out of your hug making you frown, to which he used the excuse of ‘I smell bad from practice let me take a shower.’ Whilst he was in the shower you decided to make some dinner for you both since it seems that Suna is a bit ‘grumpy’ today.

Once he exits the shower, and gets changed, he sees the table set out with the delicious food you made. You exit the bathroom to see him sat down already eating his plate. “How do you like it ?” you ask him wanting to know his opinion on your food.

“It’s good” he mumbles, continuing to shove food in his mouth. A bit bothered by the lack of response, you decide to talk about the newest episode in the hopes of lighting the mood. “Last episode of Kakegurui was great Rin, you should’ve seen it I really love mary. She’s great, I am a Mary Saotome simp through and through I still didn’t get the game they played but who cares? I can’t wait for season 3 to come out, I’ve already ordered the first 3 volumes of the Kakegurui twin manga, do you think it’s as good as the manga since I do think it’ll probably be better since it is Mary-centric and who hates mary since she-” You ramble on not taking notice of the bubbling annoyance that Suna seemed to have.

“Can you just shut up Y/N” he shouted making you flinch “ You’re so fucking talktative gosh” he got up and left the house slamming the door shut making you jump again. 

Instead of wallowing in your bed you decide on going out the library to go and read a good book (something that always makes you feel better) forgetting the harsh tone that Suna used with you. You were only trying to lighten the mood...

You got too engrossed with your books to notice how the sun is now gone and it was pitch black outside, the librarian notified you that it was time to go, you figure that if Suna was back at home he would’ve cooled down now so you can have a proper conversation which to be honest, you didn’t really want one.

Once you enter your house, Suna rushes towards you enveloping you in a big hug murmuring a “Oh thank god I was so worried” he tried to give you a kiss on the forehead but you recoil out of it, just as he did to you earlier. 

“I think i’m going to go to bed Rin” you say quietly trudging towards your bedroom and getting immediately in your bed. Suna stood there in the spot you left him in feeling bad for what he said to you at dinner. He goes into you bedroom and see you on your bed and silently gets into it next to you.

“Y/N I know you probably don’t want to hear me right now, but I am sorry” You don’t respond but slowly move closer to him letting him put his arm around you. Because of your silence Suna continues to speak “Umm...I watched the last episode earlier and you were right Mary Saotome is the goat but.... yumeko is better” he said teasingly 

This made you smile, as this is what you wanted a nice moment with your boyfriend talking about the last episode of your favourite show. You spend the rest of the night arguing over which character is better and decide to start Demon Slayer together, with Suna enjoying your after episode talks that you have.

AUTHOR NOTE: I was really excited to write for Suna and Atsumu but I have a fat migraine so i’m so sorry for it not being thattt gooood today :// but I hope you enjoy it regardless 

#haikyu x reader #haikyuu x reader comfort #haikyuu fluff #haikyu angst #atsumu scenarios #atsumu x female reader #atsumu fluff #atsumu x reader #atsumu angst #suna x reader #suna angst #suna fluff #haikyuu suna #suna scenarios #signedwithane😌

[h0tchner]

go team hotchner!

pairing: dad!aaron hotchner x fem!reader

summary: aaron is coaching jack’s soccer game & reader is in the crowd! aaron & reader are happily married, but another woman’s mean comments and blatant flirting makes the reader jealous. fluffy shenanigans ensue!

word count: 2.5k

includes: FLUFF, jack hotchner is the sweetest, you & aaron are married, jealous!reader, kissing, family planning, & AARON IN A GREY T-SHIRT

rating: 18+ (for VERY brief mentions of sex and a little smidge of cursing)

a/n: i wrote this for @ssahotchswife​’s soft hotch saturday! this is my first published fic, so i hope y’all enjoy. PLS (!!!!!!!!!!!) interact if you liked this, rb, comment, like and/or send me a request if you have ideas for future fics! i love y’all! - rivka💞

“Atta boy, Jack!” Aaron yells from the side of the field, clapping his hands as his son scores another goal.

Beaming, you holler from the benches along with the crowd. You watch as your husband jogs up and down the sidelines with ease, keeping up with Jack’s soccer team. It’s a stunning Saturday morning and you are thrilled to spend every moment of it with the Hotchner boys. Your Hotchner boys.

When they asked Aaron to coach the team, how could he say no? After losing Hayley, he promised himself that he would do everything in his power to be there for Jack. When you first started dating, Aaron was hesitant to introduce you to his son. It wasn’t because he didn’t want you in Jack’s life, but rather he didn’t want to scare you away. You were a 26-year-old NCIS agent and he was a 40-something FBI agent. You knew he had a son, you knew he was a widow, and you knew he was older than you: but you didn’t care. You loved him. It took a little coaxing to get Aaron to open up to you about his fears, but once he did, you assured him then and there that you weren’t going anywhere. He introduced you to Jack the very same day. Four years later, you and Aaron are stronger than ever.

The ref blows the whistle, calling a break. Aaron motions for the kids to huddle in. He squats on the floor to get on their level, enthusiastically whispering, walking them through the next play. Your heart swells watching him talk to the group of children. Aaron Hotchner, always the hero, the role-model, the leader. Gentle yet powerful: he was intoxicating.

Your eyes dart over his crouched figure; the soft, heather grey of his t-shirt clings to his broad shoulders. You draw in a breath, a memory of last night flooding your senses, remembering how you held on to those shoulders for dear life as he pounded you into the bed. You feel your cheeks blush red, and you look up to the sky, shutting your eyes to collect yourself. Damn. Even just the thought of touching him gets your blood up.

You open your eyes, letting your gaze travel back to Aaron’s body, admiring how good his butt looks in those black Adidas track pants. You bite your lip a bit, feeling overwhelmed with joy, knowing that beautiful man, inside and out, was all yours. God, what you wanted to do to...

“Damn he is HOT. Way hotter than the old coach. I think his son is on the team?” A woman’s voice rings out from behind you.

“Yeah, I think so. Did you hear what happened to his first wife? So sad, lost her when his son was little. Apparently he’s shacked up with some 20-something-year-old now.” A second woman’s voice chimes in.

“No way. Him? Married to that? He needs a real woman, not some child. A man that experienced should be with someone his own age. I’m gonna talk to him after the game, see what his deal is.” The first woman replies, voice dripping with venom.

“I think you should!” Agrees the second.

“Oh, I will. I’ll make him an offer he can’t refuse.” Snickers the first.

They both laugh as you sit frozen in your seat, blinded by a wave of anger and sadness.

Some child? Someone his own age? Their hurtful words pierce right through your heart as you furiously blink back tears.

The ref blows the whistle, and the team scatters back onto the field. The ladies cheer behind you as the game starts back up. It takes all your strength not to break down under the crushing weight of their conversation. You take in some deep breaths, mulling over their comments. You weren’t “some child!” You were a grown-ass woman! You had a job! You were a federal agent! You loved Aaron and Jack: they were your whole world!

As you continue to give yourself a mental pep-talk, the hurt begins to dissipate as you realize how stupid those woman sounded. They didn’t even know you, or Aaron, or anything about your relationship. In that moment, you tell yourself that instead of wallowing in self-doubt, you would stand up to them and make it known that you were the only one for Aaron.

Just like that: you begin to feel a bit better. You focus all your attention on Aaron and Jack, letting the game fly by. You ignore the ladies gossiping behind you, and, by the time the kids are lining up to give the other team high-fives, you had pulled yourself together and come up with a plan to put these ladies right back in their place. You just had to wait for the right time to make your move.

“Wish me luck!” squeals the first woman. You can feel her getting up from the bleachers behind you.

“Go get him, girl!” sasses the second.

You watch as the woman walks down the aisle, her straight blonde ponytail swishing as she goes. She’s wearing blue-jean shorts and a white lace top: an outfit you’ve seen before on a hundred women who looked just like her. In any other circumstance you’d applaud her efforts (girls supporting girls, right?) but this was your man she had her sights on. No way. Not a chance. She wasn’t going to lay a single pink manicured finger on him.

Aaron is talking to the ref and the other team’s coach when she taps him on the shoulder.

Oh HELL no. You think, frowning.

He turns around and gives her a small, polite smile. You can’t hear the exchange, but after a few moments, she sticks out her hand to shake his, laughing. Aaron curtly returns the shake and turns back to finish up his prior conversation; but, this time, the blonde woman puts a hand on his arm again, lightly pulling him away. Your blood begins to boil. She gestures to the pack of kids, now getting drinks and snacks from the fold-up table next to the bleachers. Aaron nods, pointing over to where Jack is standing, sipping on some lemonade. She puts her hand on his arm again and tilts her head.

You decide it has been long enough. It’s go time.

You walk down the bleachers, picking up the hem of your baby blue floral sundress so you wouldn’t step on it as you descended.

The woman is still all over Aaron, clearly flirting. Aaron’s arms are crossed over his chest, lips in a terse smile. It didn’t take a profiler to know that his behaviour screamed “get me out of here.”

You fluff your hair a bit, letting it fall loosely around your face. With confidence, your feet hit the soft grass and you head towards your husband.

“Aaron!” you call out, waving and smiling as you near him, shooting daggers at the blonde woman by his side.

The moment he sees you approaching, you watch his entire demeanour change.

“Y/N!” he grins, excusing himself from the woman.

She whips around to face you with a vengeance as Aaron scoops you up, tanned arms firm around your middle. He spins you around as you laugh, surprised, looking down at him with pure elation.

He sets you down and, before you have a chance to say anything else, grabs your face in his hands, crashing his mouth into yours. You throw your arms around his neck and card your fingers in his hair, kissing him with the same fervour.

You can practically feel the adrenaline coursing through his veins. It’s hot and dominating: something about winning a game makes Aaron primal and giddy. You certainly aren’t complaining.

He breaks the kiss and lets his hands fall to your waist, squeezing lightly.

“Congrats on the win, Coach Hotchner.” You smile as you brush a lock of sweaty black hair off his forehead.

“Couldn’t have done it without my favourite cheerleader, Mrs. Hotchner.” He winks, pressing a light kiss to your forehead.

“Oh yeah?” You prod, cocking your head, looking into his gorgeous hazel eyes. “Who would that be?”

“Hm.” He pauses, looking up pensively.

He wraps his arms even tighter around your middle and dips his head down, whispering one word in your ear: “You.”

You laugh, swaying with him for a moment, capturing his lips in another kiss. As you pull apart, out of the corner of your eye you watch as the blonde woman stands frozen to the same spot, mouth agape. You smirk, feeling satisfied and self-assured knowing your little scheme was a success.

Then, like a rocket, you see Jack running towards you with a mile-wide grin on his flushed face.

“Y/N! Did you see? Did you see me make two goals?” Jack exclaims.

“Yeah buddy, I saw the whole thing!” You capture him in a bear hug, kissing the top of his head. You ruffle his hair and kneel down, looking into his soft brown eyes.

“I’m so proud of you. Did you have fun?”

“Yeah! I love soccer!” Jack nods.

“You did a great job Jack.” Aaron says, helping you stand. He wraps an arm around your waist and looks lovingly down at his son.

“You’re our soccer superstar.” You add, glancing between Jack and Aaron with unbridled joy. “Now go! Go back to your friends!” You laugh, shooing him away, back to the group of sweaty 8-year-olds and their snacks.

You stand there with Aaron, snaking your arm around his back to match his around yours. You both watch as Jack bounds off. A quick glance to the side shows that the blonde woman is long gone, probably stomping back up to her friend to whine and call you more names.

“Is she gone?” Aaron murmurs into your hair, pressing a gentle kiss to the side of your head.

You stutter, “How... how did you?” You trail off in disbelief.

“Oh please,” he smirks, “I had to stop you from practically biting her head off when you walked over.”

“Aaron!” you yelp, mocking upset. “You should’ve let me at her.”

He chuckles, lips twitching into a smile as he quirks one eyebrow up. “I couldn’t have my wife fighting with the aunt of one of my players. It’d reflect poorly on me.”

“She called me a child. Said that you should be with someone your own age. I think that warrants a free pass.”

His joking manner stops abruptly at your declaration. “That’s ridiculous and you know it,” he furrows his brow, shaking his head lightly.

You reach up and run your fingers over his scrunched forehead, soothing the lines into something softer.

“I know,” you nod.

Aaron pulls you into his side, wordless. Fingers tracing lightly over your hip. You knew he was thinking the same thing: no matter what they said, you knew in your heart that you and Aaron were meant to be. Age be damned. He was yours and you were his: forever. Simple as that.

“Mmm,” you sigh, taking in the beauty of the moment. You smile at the clear sky, the fresh air, and the feeling of the man you loved, right by your side. You two watch Jack as he talks and laughs with the other kids. He looks so happy to be surrounded by them: a natural conversationalist. You can’t help but start to think about how he would be the best big brother in the whole world. It makes your breath hitch in your throat a bit.

“What is it?” Aaron gives your side a squeeze.

Of course he could sense when your thoughts began to wander. Aaron was a man of many talents.

“Oh, it’s nothing.” You look up at him with a reassuring glance, returning the squeeze.

“Y/N...” Aaron trails off, hazel-brown eyes searing into yours.

Damn your gaze, Hotchner.

You look away, letting your arm drop from his waist and move to step away a bit: he grabs for your hand instinctively, keeping you next to him. His big hands engulf your small ones, fingers entwined.

You know he is still staring at you, but you can’t bring yourself to look at him yet. Your eyes refocus on Jack.

“I was... I was thinking,” you begin. “I love you. I love you so much, no matter what anybody else says. And I love Jack like he’s my own.”

You breathed in, prepping yourself mentally for what you were about to say next.

“Jack is so good with other kids.” You continue, “He loves being social, being a teammate.”

You gather the strength to meet your husband’s famous glare.

“And watching you coach these kids? You’re so good with them, Aaron. You make every one of them feel special. You give 110% of your heart, and I am so lucky to be your co-coach in life.” You tell him in earnest.

“Aaron,” you carry on, emboldened, “I think it’s time we added a new member to the Hotchner team” you finish, searching every inch of Aaron’s face for recognition.

You watch as he takes in the information. After a few beats, it clicks.

“Y/N,” his expression softens, “Do you want to have a baby?”

You bite your lip and nod, eyes wide and hopeful.

Aaron nearly explodes with happiness; his eyes crinkle as he smiles down at you, unable to speak. And then, his warm body envelopes yours, solid but soft: unmistakably Aaron.

You let out a shaky laugh and bury your head in his neck, breathing in the smell of cologne and light sweat.

He pulls back a little, one hand tilting your chin up to look at him.

“Oh my god, Y/N,” he shakes his head in disbelief.

“Does that mean yes?” you ask, in a small voice.

Aaron laughs again, letting out a sigh. He tucks a strand of hair behind your ear, letting his hand linger on your cheek. You lean into his touch.

“Yes,” he says, giddy. “Let’s have a baby.”

The sound of children laughing fills your ears as you grab the back of his head and pull Aaron into a soft kiss. The kiss is full of promise: a gentle pact, sealing the deal. You and Aaron were going to have a baby. Jack was going to have a little brother or sister.

You pull away, arms still around his neck.

“I love you, Aaron.” You breathe out.

“I love you, Y/N.” He whispers back.

Nobody on this planet could shake the bond you and Aaron had. Suburban soccer moms be damned.

#aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotch imagine #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner x fem!reader #aaron hotchner fanfiction #aaron hotchner fanfic #my content #my fics #criminal minds #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds fanfiction #dad!hotch #hotch x reader #hotch #aaron hotch #cm fanfic #jack hotchner #hayley hotchner #hotch x you #aaron hotchner fic #sex ment #imagine #female reader #ssahotchswife #soft hotch saturday #soft hotch #dad hotch #married #go team hotchner!

[thepremedthatwrites]

The ABC’s of Peter Pevensie (Smut Edition)

Hi I jus wanted to say that I LOVE your writing and I was hoping if you could write a Peter Pevensie alphabet kinda kinky, smut edition or fluff is alright too I guess, pls consider it!

I’ve never done an alphabet post before so I am winging it as I go.  I did look up similar posts on Tumblr just to get an idea of what to do and I saw that they all followed a pretty similar format that I’ve adopted for this post.  I did make some alterations just to fit what I wanted to write.  I hope you all enjoy it!

warning: entire post contains smut and mentions of smut

A - aftercare

Peter loves to whisper sweet nothings into your ear right after both of you have finished.  Once you two have calmed down enough, he’ll draw both of you a bath and carry you to the tub before helping you wash up.

B -  body part

Whenever you want to drive Peter crazy, you know to wear your hair up to leave your neck exposed.  He just can’t control himself and will litter your neck with kisses and lovebites.  

Peter doesn’t spend much time fretting over his appearance but he would be lying if he denied that he chooses to wear shirts that are a bit tight on him to show off his biceps.  He likes how it shows everyone he is no longer the scared 13-year-old who wanted to protect his loved ones but didn’t know how to.  Now, he’s strong and won’t let anyone or anything hurt the people he loves.

C - cum

Peter loves to watch you cum, pure bliss taking over your face as you cling to him for dear life.  He especially loves it when you cum on his cock so he can feel your pussy collapse around him, squeezing and enticing him to cum as well.  

D - dirty secret

Although he would never admit it, he secretly hopes that people walking by his bedroom can hear you guys while you do it, especially when you’re moaning his name.  He wants everyone to remember that he’s the one who is making you feel as good as you do.

E - experience

Peter hadn’t been with anyone else before meeting you.  He had always been too worried about taking care of both his siblings and an entire nation.  So when you two started seeing each other, he had almost no experience but that didn’t hinder him as he seemed to be a natural.  He knew the right places to touch and the perfect pace that would leave you a moaning mess.  This was because he was an expert at reading people, something that he had learned for diplomatic meetings and fights on the battlefield but was also handy in the bedroom.

F - favorite position

He’s a bit old fashioned and prefers to do it missionary.  He loves to see the pleasure build on your face as you get closer to your climax as well as the feeling of you raking your nails down his back.

G - good girl

When I tell you this man loves to praise you, I mean it.  In the bedroom, he loves to remind you what a good girl you are.  He’s constantly encouraging you and telling you how good you’re making him feel.  Even outside the bedroom, he likes to praise you.  Partially because he wants to remind you how proud he is, but also partly because he loves the look you give him when he does so.

H - hand-holding

Peter loves to hold your hands while he pins them in place above your head.  He also likes to play with your hands afterwards, sometimes doing it absentmindedly while you two are cuddling in bed.  

I - intimacy

Being romantic is in Peter’s nature so it isn’t much of a surprise that he is super romantic in bed.  Before going any further, he always makes sure it’s alright with you and he never pushes you to do anything you aren’t comfortable with.  To him, sex is much more than feeling good.  It’s another way that he can worship you and he makes sure you know it.  He kisses every inch of you, reminding you how beautiful you are.  He holds you in his arms, making sure you understand just how loved you are.

J - jealousy

Although he hates to admit it, any time he sees you conversing with someone else who may show just the smallest hint of romantic interest, he gets insanely jealous.  This jealousy usually leads to long nights in his bed chambers.

K - kinks

While Peter may not have any prominent kinks, he does enjoy having you call him ‘my king’.  He also likes to be the dominant one in the bedroom but is always happy to have you take over once in a while.  

L - location

Peter likes to do it in the comfort of his bed where you two can go for as many rounds as you can without the risk of being caught or walked in on.  His second favorite place to do it is in his study.  The sight of you sprawled on the desk, open and ready for him, is enough to make him rock hard.

M - masturbation

Peter doesn’t masturbate that much since he has you, but when you aren’t available and his pants start to get a bit tight, he’ll go for a quick round in his bedroom, imagining you were there with him.

N - no

Peter would never do a threesome as he would get too jealous seeing another person touching you.

O - oral

Peter most certainly prefers giving it to you rather than receiving it.  While you are able to make him feel wonderful everytime you give him head, you are his goddess and he wants to be the one to worship you, including with his tongue.  He especially loves it when you start to get closer to your release and grind against his face.

P - pace

Peter loves to give it rough with the occasional slap of the ass and binding your hands.  He loves hearing the bed creak underneath you two and the sound of your desperate moans as he fucks you into the mattress.  He tries to go slow at first but he’s quick to lose control with you right underneath him.

Q -  quickes

Peter doesn’t mind having a quickie, especially if jealousy is coursing through his blood.  Usually when he does quickies, it’s when you two aren’t in his bedroom and are instead somewhere more public like his office or the library.

R - risk

Peter loves risks.  He thinks the added adrenaline makes it all the more hot.  He’s willing to do it in a public place where anyone can see.  He loves experimenting as well, whether it’s trying a new position or experimenting with foreplay.  Anything that might heighten the experience for you two is worth trying.

S - stamina

Due to his rigorous training for battles, Peter has insane stamina.  He could go all night if you let him although you two usually stop after two or three rounds.  Peter always makes an effort to not finish until you do, as you are always his top priority and he wants you to enjoy the experience entirely and fully.  This can be hard though when you are also doing your best to make him finish first but he usually has the willpower to hold out until you cum.

T - tease

Peter loves to tease you, whether that be saying an offhand comment that makes you heart race or kissing you everywhere except where his touch is needed most.  

On the other hand, he hates being teased.  You had decided to tease him once, tight clothes, sexual comments, and all.  This only led to him pinning you against the wall within an hour and him making you climax more times than you thought possible within the span of half an hour as punishment.

U - undergarments

Peter has a habit of ripping off your undergarments while in the heat of the moment.  This had led to your maids having a stash of undergarments ready at a moment’s notice.

V - volume

Peter isn’t the loudest in bed but he does let out the occasional moan or grunt.  The sounds he usually makes are praises, reminding you just how good you’re doing.

W - when

Peter likes to wait a while in a relationship before taking it to the next level.  It wasn’t until a few months into the relationship that you guys did it for the first time.  But after that, you two could barely keep your hands off of eachother.

X - x-ray

Peter is average when it comes to his length, but you don’t mind due to his girth.  Every time you guys do it, he fills you up perfectly.

Y - yearning

Peter would fuck you 24/7 if he could.  You never would have imagined the high king would have such a high sex drive, but you aren’t complaining.  It’s hard to hold back when the sex is just so damn good.

Z - zzz

Peter makes an effort to not fall asleep until he knows that you are.  He likes to brush the hair out of your face and plant gentle kisses on your forehead as you sleep soundly in his arms.  There had only been a few times where he was too tired afterwards and had passed out before you did.

#peter pevensie #high king peter #high king peter the magnificent #King Peter the Magnificent #peter pevensie fanfic #peter pevensie smut #peter pevensie imagine #peter pevensie x reader #narnia #The Chronicles of Narnia #narnia fanfiction #narnia smut #narnia imagine #peter x reader #Peter x Y/N #peter pevensie x y/n #peter pevensie x you

[hockeywhy]

4 times you faked a relationship + 1 time you didn’t; m.tkachuk

WARNINGS: language. WORD COUNT: 17.2k. A/N: So, I didn’t want my effort for this fic to go to waste and I’ve decided to re-write it for Matty because he and the fake dating trope work so well together. I had to, so here it is.

one.

“I’d only be asking Matthew if I had no other options and needed a last resort,” you said. “Until then, I’m not even contemplating it.” 

“Kind of sounds like you’ve just about reached the bottom of your list, right around where you’re keeping Matthew, Y/N,” your friend, Anna, responded and though her tone said sympathy, the look on her face reflected anything but sheer elation. 

The invitation landed on your tabletop with a loud slap while you deposited yourself in a nearby chair unceremoniously, glaring at the decorative paper as if it offended you. Actually, scratch that. It did offend you. Greatly so. Honestly, it may as well have come in the form of one of those boxing gloves that sprung out of a box immediately upon opening and decked you square in the face. That’s how much it offended you. 

The golden letters inked on the thick paper warmly requested the pleasure of your company to witness the love of Josh Reynolds to Louise Jones six weeks from now. The location stated was a hotel you knew only through word of mouth: one of those fancy establishments that served ridiculously priced plates that were more canapes than actual meals. 

You doubted there would be much pleasure from your company.

You and Josh called it quits just over a year ago after a relationship that became increasing rockier, significantly more emotionally exhausting. The two of you started dating in high school and if the relationship started off with nothing but the sort of blinding fiery passion only teens could be capable of, well someone missed the memo on giving you the message that all fires eventually fizzle out. Gradually, it was the only way you could see your relationship heading and it seemed that Josh felt it too. It made the breakup easier: it was neat and mutual. Still, that couldn’t be considered an incentive for either of you to invite each other to such grand, deeply personal events. You couldn’t help but feel a little hurt that he found someone he wanted to tie the knot with so quickly but in retrospect, Josh had always wanted that while you were content as you were. That seemed to be the fork in your road with him.

On the one hand, you were angry at Josh for even considering jotting your name down on the list of attendees and on the other, you were angry at yourself for being angry about that. One moment you were dead set on declining the invite and the next, you considering that doing that would simply show you were bitter and unable to be civil about it. Besides, surely it was noted somewhere in the Rulebook of Ex’s that you just couldn’t do stuff like that. That seemed to just about do it. Like hell you’d given anyone the satisfaction of one-upping you.

You needed a plus one. Desperately. 

“Ask your brother then. Pretty sure that’s bound to impress anyone there. It’s not often many will get to say they brushed shoulders with an up-and-coming professional athlete.” 

“I don’t need that sort of plus one. If I did, I would’ve asked you—”

“Thanks,” Anna mumbled.”

“—but what I need,” you ploughed on ahead, “is, well, something that can come off a bit more serious looking.”

She rolled her eyes. “Saying the word boyfriend won’t jinx you into permanent silence, you know. You need a boyfriend.”

“A boyfriend for a day,” you agreed contemplatively. 

She picked up the invitation to look through it carefully and after concluding her inspection, she slapped the papers back down on the table, grinning. “Matthew it will be then!” 

Your younger brother, Jake, recently signed his entry-level contract with the Calgary Flames, in a way carrying forward the family tradition of starting a career in professional sports with them. Your grandfather did, your father did and now, here you were watching your little brother take on the mantle. Your family’s involvement in sport and, specifically, the team meant that you were somewhat familiar with the organization whether that meant attending home games or a few events arranged by the team. You couldn’t say you were the best of friends with them, certainly nowhere near the level your brother was, but generally speaking you were fond of the C of Red. 

That couldn’t also be said about Matthew, however.

It seemed that from the get-go, there was a personality clash between you. At first, you thought it was just Matthew picking on you, joking around as he disagreed with virtually anything you’d say but progressively, you were pretty sure the two of you didn’t even have the compatibility to keep things civil. Matthew had a way with pushing your buttons and it bothered you he could do that with so much ease, though the more you thought of it, the more it shouldn’t have come as a surprise to you: you were all too familiar with his on-ice shenanigans, after all. Whenever you knew you had to be under the same roof as him, you’d tell yourself to not let him get under your skin but that resolve would last for all of ten minutes. Fifteen if you had a particularly good day. 

Much to your chagrin, it seemed your brother was closest to Matthew. Though you offered the spare room in your apartment, your brother was so warmly welcomed by Matthew. It was no doubt even Jake found your annoyance with his teammate entertaining.

The thought alone was frustrating enough. If one day, by chance, you caught sight of a white strand of hair on your head, you were dead set on blaming Matthew for it. Matthew and his smarmy attitude; Matthew and his smartass retorts; Matthew and the smirks he threw your way whenever your brother took his side, outnumbering you. 

You clenched your teeth, glaring at the invite. From the corner of your eye, you saw Anna’s outstretched hand holding your phone out to you. A groan formed in your throat and you wished you kept in contact with the handful of guys you tried dating after Josh. None really stayed. Or better said, none managed to draw you in. It was as if Josh had put a jinx on you. If that was the case, you hoped that this whammy would disappear if it meant watching him watch someone else walk down the aisle towards him. 

Anna waved the device at you insistently. “Do it. Come on. Even you know nothing says fuck you like turning up there with Matthew. Scrappy when he wants to be and he’s not bad to look at either. You know it.” 

You arched an eyebrow up at her. “More than Johnny?” 

She flushed visibly. Johnny and Anna were still a relatively new thing, dancing around their relationship carefully as if they were both doing this rodeo for the first time. It was pretty cute. “Don’t change the subject.” She placed the device down on the table in front of you then patted your shoulder. “I have a feeling you won’t regret it. If he gets on your nerves too much, well…it can’t be worse than watching your ex get married, right?” 

“Ouch,” you winced, but chuckled, knowing you were defeated. Matthew was the last resort, and you knew you were at the bottom of your list before you even started going through it. “You do realize if he declines, I’ll probably make a start on packing my bags and moving to Montana, right? The only time you’ll hear from me is when my handwritten letter goes through the nine circles of hell that is our postal service.” 

Anna fixed you with a stare that could only read as ‘do it’. “I wouldn’t be so insistent on this if I knew Matthew would say no. I have a feeling he’ll surprise you.” 

With a heavy sigh, you unlocked your phone and scrolled through your list of contacts, thumb hovering over his name when it came up. Anna wasn’t wrong: Matthew wasn’t bad to look at all, that much you could admit. But god, if he turned you down…. you knew you wouldn’t be able to ever show your face in front of him or the rest of the team ever again. 

“I think I’ve had enough surprises from him to last a lifetime,” you mumbled but tapped the call symbol anyway.

He answered on the third ring. “Hel—

You didn’t let him finish. “I need your help,” you ground out, eyes closing while you rubbed at your forehead with the tips of your fingers. 

There was silence on the other end of the line that had you biting your lip in anxiousness. You shouldn’t have done this. You really shouldn’t have done this. All it would take would be just hitting the ‘resume my account’ link on one of the dating apps you signed up for a while ago. Someone was bound to be attracted not only to you but the promise of an open bar—

“Music to my ears,” Matthew’s response came through. You could practically hear the smile in his voice and knew you’d regret it; you could easily tell from the tone of his voice. 

You sighed quietly, leaning forward to rest your elbows on the table, eyes glued to the invitation. Fuck it, you could get someone else; easily, no doubt. The world of online dating was vast and there would always be takers.

“Uh, yeah actually, never mind—”

“No, no. Come on, Y/N. Pretty sure this is the first time you’re calling me first so can we take a moment to just let that sink in?” Silence again, then a chuckle. “Okay, now that we did. How can I help you?” 

It wasn’t as if Josh had put you in the position to ask Matthew for a favor but still: fuck Josh, anyway. In a split second of sheer pettiness, you considered aiming to host the most extravagant, unforgettable weddings when your turn would come just to show him who does it better. 

“Are you free the third weekend in June?” you asked tiredly. 

“Don’t know. Depends what for and who you’re asking for.” 

You should’ve asked him face-to-face. At least then, he would’ve had the chance to see you roll your eyes, turn on your heel and walk away. “I’m obviously asking for myself. Could you just be straightforward for once and answer yes or no? You’re making me hold the line for longer than I anticipated and I’m happy to ask someone else,” you lied.

“Let me get this right—” Here comes, you thought exhausted. “You’re calling me for the first time since you have my number to ask me if I’m free the third weekend in June? As a favor for yourself.” 

“Matthew, I didn’t stutter—”

“What’s happening in June?”

You don’t know what it was about his words that downed you. It was nothing but a simple question yet the only thing you could think of was: the first boy I’ve dated and so far, the only one, seems to have moved on quicker than I anticipated and while I’m still trying to build myself back up, I’m sitting in my kitchen looking at a wedding invitation and wallowing in self-pity because regardless of how hard I try, of how much I’ve amended my standards, no one seems to do it so what if this is it for me? What if this is just the way it’ll be from now on? And now, I’m resorting to lying just to make myself feel better but also put a façade in front of someone who I know no longer cares about me like that. And really, nor do I about him but here we are. So, nothing much is happening in June, Matthew. Hopefully we get a lot more sunshine though!

What you responded with instead was, “just an old friend of mine getting married and I need a plus one. Nothing serious. Just go there for an hour or two, say some hellos and leave. It’s a quick in-and-out thing.” 

More silence on the other end of the line other than the muffled shuffle of what sounded like bedsheets. “Why not ask your brother then?” 

“Asked him already, said he’s got something lined up already. So, are you free or not?” you lied, quickly pressing on even if you knew that sounded a lot like desperation.

“For you, at a price.” He was smirking. You knew he was and more than ever, you wished 2021 was the year you could just reach through the phone and shake the person on the other end. 

“Uh-huh. Right. No, just forget it. Forget I even—”

You were going to end the call when Matthew laughed, quickly calling out a “no, no! Nothing weird, I promise. Just owe me a favor in return, is all.” 

“Do I get a choice?” you mumbled, more to yourself than towards him.

“I think we both know that you don’t. Text me the time and place,” he instructed and then, just as you were really about to end the call, he added, “hey, send me a photo of what you’re wearing also. I’ll match my tie to your dress, free of charge.” 

“Can you maybe ditch the jacket while you’re at it? Just want to make sure your tie’s within reach so I can strangle you with it.”

Even after you cut the call, Matthew’s laughter rang in your ears. 

-

Matthew matched his tie to your red dress. The color of the silk around his neck was so striking, you would swear it was made from the same material as your outfit. You sent him a photo of the material of the dress, more as a joke than having any expectations attached to it so you were pleasantly surprised to see he made the effort. For a moment, you allowed yourself to bask in sheer joy knowing that to any eye, the two of you could easily pass as a couple. At least, from looks alone if not from attitude. You were a proud person; fiercely so. Knowing you were now in debt to Matthew however he saw fit dealt a pretty impressive blow to your ego. You don’t let yourself linger too much on that thought, though. It was already difficult enough to loosen up and relax your stance as you climbed into Matthew’s car as soon as he texted you of his arrival. 

“You look good,” he commented after you fixed the seatbelt on. He turned in his seat as much as space would allow so he could look at you properly and in return, you arched an eyebrow, refusing to give way to his stare. “Are you trying to one-up the bride?” 

“Ha, ha. Funny. You didn’t even see the bride. I didn’t even see the bride.” 

“Didn’t see her but I’m seeing you, so,” he shrugged, by way of explanation before correcting his position. 

If asked, you wouldn’t deny that Matthew also looked good. Very good. But only if asked. It was impossible that someone with a face like that didn’t know they turned heads easily wherever they went. Matthew’s suit fit him as if it was sown on him. If the two of you had a better relationship, you would even dare ask him what it was he was putting in that hair of his that made it so shiny and gave those curls so much definition, taming them almost perfectly when he really put his mind to it. Whatever it was, you had a feeling he didn’t strain as much as you had earlier that morning to tame your hair and though you could give yourself credit for how well it turned out, your arms weren’t thanking you for it. 

Thankfully, much of the drive was pleasant. Though you hated small talk, you decided to make an effort if only to ease your nerves as the navigation system indicated you were drawing closer and closer to that glitzy hotel. You learned that although the season was over, Matthew, Brady and the rest of the family would spend a few weeks in Canada before heading back home to St. Louis. In turn, you told him that some of the days off you booked from work would be spent somewhere just as sunny and warm but with more beaches. It was safe ground. That, you could do although progressively, you were becoming more and more distracted, and less focused on the conversation the two of you managed to keep. 

“Want me to pull over?” Matthew asked suddenly. 

“What,” you mumbled, turning your attention from the road ahead to Matthew who seemed amused by the situation. “Why would I want you to do that?” 

“I’d want you to do that. You look pretty pale and honestly, I’ve just had the interior cleaned so—”

“Fuck you, Tkachuk, keep driving. I’m just a little…cold. How high do you have the AC on?” 

He fixed you with a stare while waiting for the lights ahead to turn green, eyebrow arched. “It’s June, Y/N, and uncomfortably warm. If it makes you feel better, though, I could turn it off and we can roll down the windows instead?”

“No, sorry—you’re right. It’s fine. Just leave the AC as it is.” 

The laugh he gave was nothing short of incredulous. “Repeat that back for me. Actually—hold on, do that when I can press record on my phone so I can have that on repeat. Did you admit I’m right?” 

“God, you’re making me regret inviting you,” you muttered though without heat. 

An uncomfortable silence slipped between the two of you or maybe, it was just your perspective on it. Matthew seemed perfectly at ease minding the road, only occasionally throwing a cursory glance towards the car’s navigation system whenever it announced a turn. Doing this seemed more and more like a bad idea. A terrible one. No one would’ve held it against you if you denied the invitation. In fact, you thought that was more expected than accepting it and turning up to the party as if you were seeing an old friend, not an ex-boyfriend. It wasn’t too late though. Matthew could still turn the car around. 

“Listen, Matt—”

“You have now reached your destination. Your destination is on the right.”

You released a breath you weren’t even aware of holding, then threw a quick look towards the main entrance of the hotel. Already, a few guests whom you recognized were crossing into the lobby.

“You really don’t look okay at all,” Matthew repeated and there was less humor in his voice and more concern this time around. Even you weren’t ignorant to how much your mood kept fluctuating over the course of the drive: often, engaged in conversation but occasionally, withdrawn, barely just catching on to whatever it was Matthew was saying. Sure, he probably didn’t know you well enough to read you, but it didn’t take a genius to figure out something was amiss. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but I felt like there’s more to this thing than you’re telling me. You could’ve asked your brother, yet you didn’t—” 

Damn it. You made him swear to play along. You made a quick mental note to get back at him about it whenever you felt energized enough to do so.

“Matthew,” you said, your voice suddenly clear, tone neutral. You didn’t dare look him in the eyes so instead, you kept your stare fixed on the revolving doors ahead. “I’m only going to say this once and I hope that you won’t make me repeat it now or ever again. I’d prefer that you don’t mention it to anyone either. The person getting married today is my ex-boyfriend. Up until last year, we’ve been together since we were teenagers. I loved him. Since we broke up, I kept trying to look for parts of him in others, but I couldn’t find even a trace of who he was. I feel as I’ve been jinxed, and I felt that maybe if I come today, maybe if I see him with someone else, I can confidently say I’m fine with that. It hurt my pride when I received the invitation, so my first thought was to lie. If, for just a few hours, I can pretend I’ve also moved on and I’m not stuck in this…fucking weird limbo, then maybe it becomes true. A fucked up self-prophecy. So.” You pause, clearing your throat. Your mouth suddenly felt dry from your speech, yet you couldn’t feel a pang of regret in your chest or heat behind your eyes. “So. If you want out, that’s fine. After all, I’m asking you to pretend to be my date out of spite, I guess. And embarrassment. It’s childish and unfair and ridiculous but—”

You came to a halt when you felt a finger under your chin, and a gentle upward push forced you to raise your head up a little more. When you turned towards Matthew, you looked at him with a look of confusion on your face. 

“Keep your head up. We have a wedding to go to.” 

His encouragement sunk in faster than expected and as your expression relaxed, a smile formed on your face. 

Yeah. The two of you had a wedding to go to. 

-

The event hall was decorated minimally yet tastefully. It made everything seem even more personal and you received that impression from every detail: from the flower arrangements to the music, everything was a testament to a life united by love. Maybe your emotional outburst earlier accounted for it, but you felt lighter even as you watched the newlyweds glide along the floor for their first dance. Sure, you felt a desperate pang of want but it was distant. Muffled. 

Despite your initial thoughts, having Matthew at your side felt very much like a safety cushion. It surprised you to watch him settle into his role with so much ease that eventually, even you didn’t have to remind yourself to not withdraw whenever his arm wrapped around your waist: sometimes loosely, sometimes a little tighter, reeling you in closer.

Fish, here is your bait, you thought wildly as you stood tucked at his side while he accepted flatteries from one of the guests who swore had been a fan of the Calgary Flames since before he could even talk.

“You must be so proud,” the man turned towards you. “Your family’s truly one of a kind to have all played for the team and now—” He gestures towards Matthew as if to say all of this. “Must be something about those Flames!” 

You laughed tightly, just as Matthew squeezed your side. By that move alone, you could tell he was eating this up. 

“Yeah, just can’t get enough of them,” you concluded, pitching your voice just a little higher towards the end. To the man, it was as genuine as could be, but Matthew cautioned you silently with the slightest narrowing of his eyes, effectively warning you to be more realistic. “Hey, I’ll get us some refills? Try to be a little more inconspicuous in the meantime. Remember this isn’t your day,” you joked. 

“Only practicing for when our turn comes,” Matthew responded without missing a beat and released the hold he had on you. 

Once at the bar, you allowed yourself some extra moments to catch your breath. Even off ice, Matthew was a force to be reckoned with. He struck conversation with others easily, drew their attention with seemingly little effort and easily set the mood for whatever situation or person the two of you would run into. A part of you thought his profession had a lot to do with his mannerism, but a bigger part knew different:  mostly, it was really just Matthew. 

He had a way with words and with people that you haven’t been witness to before and couldn’t help but wonder if it was all show. He was, after all, a face for the public: familiar with interviews, familiar with the attention, apparently not overwhelmed even by less conventional questions. Watching him play this role was fascinating to say the least. It certainly took your mind off the circumstances so credit where credit was due. 

“Hey, it’s good to see you here.” 

You turned from the bar and came face to face with Josh. His jacket was off, and his sleeves were neatly rolled up past his elbows; behind the knot of his tie, you could see he’d undone the top button of the collar. You’d seen him make countless rounds across the entire floor, greeting guests and ensuring everything was running smoothly. Occasionally, you watched him dance either with his wife, or family members, or even guests you recognized as work colleagues. 

You smiled. “Thanks for the invite. It was a bit weird to receive it, I can’t lie about that, but I’m glad you sent it.” It surprised you to learn you weren’t even lying about that. Through the course of the evening, it dawned on you that maybe, it was more the thought of being here that made you anxious; the event itself, however, proved just how right you were. It felt…fine. You felt fine. 

“Yeah—uh, I wasn’t… I wasn’t really sure but, well, before…” He trailed off into a sigh. 

You chuckled softly. “Would you like to buy a vowel?” 

That made him laugh. Truly, genuinely laugh. “Sorry. I guess it’s a bit weird for me also. But, well, before you and I were, well, you-and-I, we were friends. I would’ve hoped we’d still be friends even after…” He waved a hand in the air by way of explanation but that was sufficient for you.

“Won’t hurt to be friends. Whatever happened between us—well. Thing of the past. Build bridges and get over them, right?” 

“Right. Function of a bridge and all.”

“Hey. Congratulations, by the way! I’m happy for you. Really. I wish the two of you all the best. She seems really great.” 

“She is,” he agreed and cast a glance towards the room, eyes undoubtedly searching for her. “Are you—”

“Here you are.” 

Saved by the bell. A weight fell around your waist that, by now, was warm and familiar. Unconsciously, you leaned into Matthew, flashing a wide smile at Josh. At first, he seemed surprised by the sudden appearance but then his features settled into something more comfortable; something so much like relief that for a moment, you wished you could just come clean about it. You and Matthew were less than meets the eye.

Before you could even introduce them, a kiss was pressed to your cheek, knocking all air from your lungs and almost making you choke because of it.

What the hell.

“You were gone for some time, so I thought to check on you,” Matthew informed you, all matter of fact. To Josh, he said, “congratulations on the wedding. Must be pretty great to finally get to this point. You two look great together.” 

“Oh? Yeah. Yeah, thanks man. So glad you could come along today.” Josh turned to you, an eyebrow perked in interest. “I didn’t know you two were together.” 

“Oh we’re just—” 

You began but were promptly interrupted by Matthew. “We like to keep it lowkey. It hasn’t been that long for us but that’s not much of a problem when your gut tells you this is it. You know it well, right?”  

You were entirely caught off guard. Instead of responding immediately, you bought yourself some time by taking a sip from your glass of—whatever it was. Strong though. Just perfect for the situation you suddenly found yourself in: ex-boyfriend ahead, fake boyfriend to the side, promising sweet nothings that you knew would come back to haunt you at some ungodly hour. You wished you could step on his shoe; pull on those shiny curls of his real quick, knock some sense back into him. There was a difference between play a role well and clearly, playing it too well.

Matthew pushed ahead. “It’s pretty good timing for us though. We could take some notes for when our turn comes, right babe?” 

“I’ll let the two of you to it, then. Thanks again for coming.” Josh made a move to step away but before he did, he turned to you and caught your eyes. “I’m really happy for you, Y/N. You look good together. Just make sure you don’t take too many notes.”

“Wouldn’t dream to,” Matthew responded, and you could read the slight bite in his words. When Josh was out of earshot, he looked down at you. “You dated him? Just him?” 

“Hey, what’d I say about not bringing that up again? And save your dick measuring contests for the locker room, Tkachuk. Now’s not the time nor place.” 

“Now’s definitely the time and place,” he countered, making you roll your eyes but there was a smile on your face you couldn’t quite wipe off. “Come on. Let’s continue taking leaves out of their book.” In one swift motion, he took the glass from your hand and set it on the bar while above, the LED lights dimmed, and the playlist switched to a slower song. 

You threw him a cautious look, easily reading where that was going. “I’m not dancing.”

“Sure, you are. You want to give the impression of being happily in love? You need to start pulling your weight in this thing.” 

“Oh, I’m sorry, Atlas. Do your shoulders hurt from carrying the burden of our relationship?” you mocked, yet still allowed him to lead you towards the dance floor. Right in the center of it given the bride and groom appeared to sit this one out; you expected nothing less from him. You weren’t even surprised when he made an entire show out of it, forcing you to do a pirouette when the two of you claimed your spot. 

“You can’t even imagine the pain you put me through,” he sighed near your ear as the two of you began swaying to the music. 

“Well, you’re still standing so clearly it can’t be that bad.” 

“Baby, it’s torture.” 

You were grateful the two of you weren’t exactly face to face or you were sure Matthew would never have let you live down the flush you felt rising to your cheeks. Sure, he didn’t use the pet name in a genuine manner, but just hearing it roll off his tongue like that… You stopped that thought before it grew into a whole new different monster. 

After a few moments of silence passed, Matthew lowered his head closer to yours, his warm breath colliding with the skin on your throat. “Do you think now’s the right time to kiss? Are enough people watching?” 

You stepped on his foot. Not hard, but just with the right amount of pressure to draw a wince from him. Satisfied, you leaned back just a little to look at him properly. “Don’t even think about it, Tkachuk—”

“Thought about it already.”

Through clenched teeth, you hissed, “you. Are. Incorrigible.” 

He raised his eyebrows, surprised. “If only you could meet yourself.” 

You snickered quietly then leaned back against him. “Thanks for doing this. I know it’s not the most convenient of things… and it wasn’t fair to tell you the full truth of it right on the day of. But—well, thanks.”

“That sounds like it was pretty difficult to let out. It’s very…. heartfelt.” 

“Just fucking accept it as I gave it to you, Tkachuk,” you complained, more amused than annoyed.

More silence followed, filled in only by the general buzz of the room and the slow melody. “And now?” Matthew questioned a short while later. You allowed an extended silence to fill in for your confusion. He picked up on it within seconds. “Do you still feel jinxed? Stuck in the same place while he goes on ahead in life?” 

You took some time to think through your answer, time during which the song faded into yet another slow one. Matthew didn’t give an indication of wanting to move away from the dancefloor, so you saw no purpose in you doing that. 

“Not really,” you concluded. “Just seems like we’re both following different trajectories. Doesn’t mean I’m left behind if I’ve not yet met someone to settle down with like he did. Maybe I just need to be here to come to terms with it. Good for him though. I’m genuinely happy for him and his wife. I think lots of people imagine going through this very same moment.” You ended with a shrug but then, to lighten up the moment, you added, “don’t mock me for it. Between the two of us, I’m the one with the pointy shoes.” 

Matthew laughed, a low, pleasant laugh right by your ear. “I’ll give you a free pass for what’s left of today.” 

“Your generosity astounds me. Please could you also sign my jersey?” 

“Is it my jersey?” 

“Why would it be your jersey when I have my last name printed out on one at the expense of my brother being roughed up a little?” 

“Don’t tempt me. That favor you now owe me? I might just use it to have you get my jersey so I can sign it since you so generously asked.” 

“Your call,” you shrugged. “Just know it’s going straight in the wash right after you scribble on it.” 

Matthew took a few small steps back, only to pull you back towards him. You played along and spun as you landed into his hold once again.

“You say that now, but when you’ll see yourself with it—”

“I’ll auction it on eBay.” 

The laugh you got out of Matthew stayed with you through the rest of the night and like never before, his good disposition easily transferred to you.

two.

When the elevator doors slid open, your brother and Johnny weren’t the only ones to step into the hotel lobby. Matthew accompanied them, flashing a smug smile as the trio approached and his eyes landed on you. You cast a quizzical glance from your brother, to Johnny, to Matthew and then looked towards Anna as if to ask are you seeing this? She only shrugged at you in silent response, though she was grinning from ear to ear. At least someone was certainly enjoying this.

“Last I remember, there were only two of you,” you commented.

“Was that before or after your third drink?” your brother chirped back.

Instead of humoring him, you shift your gaze to Matthew. “What gives, Tkachuk? Can’t be left at home unsupervised during family vacations?” 

“My house training has only gone so far,” he responded smartly, then nodded his head towards Anna and Johnny who were caught in a half-hug, apparently entertaining by watching you and Matthew bicker as if watching a tennis match. “They’re not family.” 

Anna feigned a gasp on your behalf. “Y/N and I are part and parcel, Matt. Thought you’d know that by now.” 

“Well, the three of us are part and parcel also, Anna. Thought you’d definitely know that by now,” he responded but you were already leading the way out of the hotel lobby and towards the busy square outside.

It was a hub of activity: from street vendors to dance and music performers, there was something to see regardless of which way you looked. Although you arrived at your holiday destination the previous day, the flight south coupled with the warm, sticky evening made you want to steer away from the busier parts of the town. Instead, you opted to lounge by the pool with Anna, having perhaps one too many cocktails to kickstart your vacation. Perhaps you missed Matthew’s arrival at some point then, though for the life of you, you couldn’t remember anyone mentioning he’d come along also. Not that it bothered you greatly.

Since the time you asked him to be your plus one some few weeks ago, the relationship between the two of you warmed slightly. Sure, he still knew which buttons to press to get a reaction out of you, but you saw it as being less ill-intended and more good-natured fun. You kept up with him easily and whenever it felt as if he was cornering you, you conceded with a roll of your eyes but never admitted defeat. You didn’t consider the two of you friends, but something changed on the day of the wedding right around the time you had spilled out your feelings about the entire deal to him. Looking back on it, you found it strange just how easily you did that, no second thoughts, no wishing for takebacks. You knew you owed him the truth given the position you put him in without plenty of heads-up, but you could’ve easily just simplified the entire thing. 

It wasn’t difficult to stick together as a group but eventually, you wandered off towards a few stalls on your own that have caught your eye. Though you wanted some more time to have Anna to yourself, it was technically her first vacation with Johnny. You could catch up with her later in the room; surely, she’d have even more swooning to do over him by then. Not that you blamed her. Johnny was an incredible guy. 

First, you stopped at a stall selling a range of baked goods that you simply couldn’t turn away from. And for good reason: the sour cherry churro you settled for was a dream come true. From there, you strolled towards a few small stores selling a range of products ranging from colorful graphic tees to earrings made from vibrant, colorful gemstones. You held a blue pair next to your ear, turning one way then another to watch as the light reflected off the gleaming gem. 

“Those suit your complexion,” the attendant commented and when you looked towards him, he smiled bashfully. 

A gentle heat crept up your neck, unable to keep the grin off your face but you couldn’t look away from him: his skin was lightly tanned, and a dusting of freckles covered the bridge of his nose and upper cheeks. His blond hair was messy in a way you could easily tell was styled to appear as such. He was cute in a sort of conventional way, but you liked the way he smiled at you, all shy but certainly genuine.

“Funny you say that. I always had a feeling blue was my color,” you responded, and his smile widened. 

“Here for vacation?” he asked. 

You nodded. “Yeah, I just got here yesterday, and I’ll be around for a few days,” you added, a little hopeful. 

Hey, if you could score some good company while in the area, then you weren’t going to turn down the opportunity to flirt a little and make good with someone more local.

“Good. That’s really good to know.” He regarded you for a moment and you were certain that caused your blush to deepen though at the same time, it made you feel a little…exposed. “Hey, are you free—”

“The red ones are nicer.” 

You squeezed your eyes shut, frustration quickly replacing the feeling of near euphoria. You could recognize that voice anywhere. Of all times he could have run into you, the universe fixed it so he popped up when you least needed that to happen. 

“I prefer the blue,” you countered, then held them up against your ear again though you knew you didn’t need to double check if they suited you. 

“No, trust me with the red,” Matthew insisted, and you saw him appear behind you in the small circular mirror you were looking into. He was so close. “Goes well with that little number I got you the other day.” 

You sputtered. “W-what?! Stop messing—”

In the mirror Matthew’s eyes flicked from you to the attendant. “Yeah, you know the one. I left the box on the bed in our room, thought to surprise—”

“Tkachuk, just shut up. There isn’t an our room—”

This was so painfully uncomfortable. So frustratingly annoying, you felt the blood warm in your veins, that familiar wave of anger coursing through your body.

“I’ll ring those up for you,” the attendant said, his voice carefully polite while he accepted the red earrings from Matthew’s outstretched hand. 

You hated him. Passionately hated him. It was easy for Matthew to play games like those because he could easily get just about anyone, but you? It wasn’t quite as easy to not be a pro-athlete who had pretty much everything lined up and going for them. You tried catching the store attendant’s eyes again but he was busy accepting the cash from Matthew after packing away the earrings in a small paper bag. You knew he wouldn’t catch sight of it, but it didn’t stop you from casting a longing, apologetic glance towards him before leaving the store. 

It felt as if for every two steps you took, Matthew only needed one and despite the crowds, he caught up with you easily, holding out the bag towards you while you powered ahead. 

“Come on, don’t be mad. The red ones are definitely better than the blue ones,” Matthew tried to reason with you while holding the hand stretched out to you, insistent on his offer. When you didn’t respond and instead, tried to rush further ahead, Matthew pressed on. Him managing to keep up with your pace only added fuel to the fire. “Don’t tell me you’re upset over Ron Jon back there.” 

You came to a halt, turning to glare up at him. “I am, Matthew. You didn’t need to do what you did back there. There was no reason for it. It was shitty of you, and I need you to back off while I try to enjoy the rest of my night.” You clenched your jaw, trying to suppress the overwhelming feeling of anger that normally resulted in tears. “You could at least pretend to be sorry about it.” 

With that, you turned on your heel and squeezed your way through the crowds, ignoring Matthew’s calls to stop and come back and that he was only joking. 

Too late for that, you thought bitterly, making a turn towards a street popular for its dining and bar venues. 

-

The part of the archipelago more popular with tourists was truly a sight to behold as the sun went down, coloring the sky in some of the warmest, most calming shades of orange, red and yellow you ever saw. It seemed as if everyone gathered on the promenade, phones at the ready while taking photos of the sky, selfies and group shots. Even you couldn’t resist it and after taking a few well-centered selfies, a passing couple offered to take your photo which you immediately posed for. 

Later, once the sight sunk in, you moved towards a nearby bar, first attracted by the pink, purple and blue neon lights and then, the music. A good cocktail, good music and a gorgeous sunset were all it took for you to feel more relaxed, leaving behind the event from earlier. He wouldn’t be the first cute guy you’d see, nor the last and indeed, it was easy for you to settle in the more crowded area of the locale where people were dancing either solo, with a partner or as part of a group.

Not long after you weaved your way onto the dancefloor, you felt a pair of hands settle on your hips, drawing you in. You went easily, accepting the embrace, accepting the way you were being led into the dance, swaying your hips along with his. You didn’t even miss a beat when he spun you around, but you kept your hands pressed against his shoulders, rather than wrapping your arms around his neck. You were tipsy, no doubt, and admittedly felt touch-starved but you weren’t quite in the mood for anything more. You even dodged his mouth when he tipped his head down to your lips so instead, he landed a kiss on your cheek. Still, he was pretty relentless. The dance took a turn that was significantly more sensual, crossing a line into discomfort, and you felt that was your cue to try and remove yourself from him. It was easy initially. You threw him a small smile and when he caught hold of your hand, you simply motioned you were only going to get a drink, hoping that would keep him where he was with the knowledge you would return. 

When you finally pulled away, you made a bee line towards the exit of the venue but again, you were a step too slow. The guy caught you just at the door.

“Where are you running off to, pretty?” he slurred, his voice louder above the thumping of the music. 

“Oh—Um, just getting a breath of fresh air, is all,” you said quickly and immediately wished you didn’t venture off in a place like this alone. It was as if you suddenly forgot everything that was common sense, pushed towards it by earlier frustration. 

“Doesn’t look like it to me.” He frowned, but there was no clarity in his eyes. He was entirely out of it and his fingers squeezed painfully around your wrist. You flinched visibly, squirming under his touch and even if you tried pulling your arm away, it was useless. He overpowered you even through the drunken haze. “Wanna go? Fine, then let’s go together.” 

“No—uh, I’m actually here with my friends. I’ve just—I saw them so I’m going to catch up with them. They must be looking for—”

“Then we can go to them together, sweetheart. Here, point them out to me.”

“No, really. I’m going to them alone,” you emphasized and put all your force into trying to free your hand. It may have taken him by surprise that led to his loosened grip, but as soon as you turned on your heel, you found out there was more to it than just that.

You almost faceplanted right into Matthew’s chest when you tried making a run for it. He stood there, eyes flicking between you and the guy with an unreadable expression on his face. Your heart was hammering wildly in your chest and instinctively, you almost glued yourself to his side. It wasn’t the first time someone tried to force a move on you, but it was the first time it was done so in such a thoughtless, drunken manner. Perhaps your fear was also enhanced by being alone in an unfamiliar place. To see Matthew this time felt like a blessing.

“Babe,” Matthew said by way of greeting, pulling you to him when he wrapped an arm around your shoulders. 

You didn’t realize you were trembling until you stood so close to him, legs suddenly feeling like jelly in front of your salvation. Matthew could easily overpower the guy; even if they were roughly the same height, there was a big difference between the body of an athlete and the swaying one of a drunk guy. Still, it didn’t mean you wanted Matthew to get caught up in anything he’d later regret or would affect him in any way, so you pressed a hand to his chest trying to put some pressure into guiding him away from the scene.

“She yours?” the drunk guy slurred, head tilting back, chin pointing towards your general direction.

“Yeah. So, guess that makes the situation even worse for you,” Matthew responded. His tone was light, seemingly non-threatening to someone who didn’t know him but you did. You knew him and you could read him crystal clear in this moment. 

“Matthew, please,” you muttered, looking at him almost desperately while trying to put all your body weight into guiding him away. 

The guy scoffed. “You’ve gotta do better than that, buddy.” He snickered. “You’ve gotta keep ‘em on a tighter leash unless you want them to go—”

Matthew made a move towards him, but you quickly stepped in front of him, essentially forcing him to halt. “Matt, please. Let’s go, okay? Please. I really want to leave. Right now.” 

He glared at the guy for a moment longer but the hard look in his eyes softened as soon as his gaze fell on you. You took the liberty of placing most of your weight against Matthew, allowing him to remove both of you from the situation and towards a less crowded area. That was easy to find: with the sun having long set, most of the crowds cleared away from the promenade so there was plenty of space for you to collect yourself in peace. 

He didn’t pry into the situation, didn’t even make any smartass comments. Instead, he let you slip away from under the safety of his arm while you pace around a small area, trying to work off the anxiety as much as you could. You had to count your breaths, remind yourself to breathe in then out slowly. You were okay. You were far from that guy, and he couldn’t hurt you. At least, no more than he already did. Your wrist felt a bit sore, but you’d take that over anything worse. 

“You okay?” Matthew asked at last, tone careful. “I can go back there and pull him out, you know, get him to apologize.”

“No!” you said loudly, desperately, then cleared your throat and lowered your voice. “No, don’t go. Please. I just need a moment, that’s all. Just a little. Could you not leave? I’ll be fine in a moment. Just—just need to catch my breath—"

“Hey, hey—relax. It’s over. He can’t put a hand down on you now, or ever.” Matthew took a few steps closer to you as if apprehensive to approach you in the first place. You knew what you must’ve looked like: pale, still shaken by what happened. He held a hand towards you, palm up. “Can I touch you?” 

You looked from it to his face, then said, “don’t get any funny ideas,” but it lacked your usual punch. You took his hand though, letting yourself be drawn to him. Matthew smelled like the sea. You couldn’t help but wonder if maybe he’d gone down to the beach earlier to take a dip. You wished you did that rather than try and drink your frustration over missing out on a random guy. God, you could sleep right here if sleeping while standing was a thing. “I’m sorry for reacting the way I did before—with, uh—what did you call him?” 

Matthew chuckled, a low, deep chuckle. “Ron Jon.” 

“You’re awful, Tkachuk.”

“And you have a funny way of expressing gratitude.” 

“Sorry—”

He laughed louder. “I’m messing with you.” A pause, and then, “I’m sorry I rained on your parade earlier with the guy back then. If you really liked him…” He trailed off, as if to let you fill in the sentence for him.

You laughed weakly, waving a hand dismissively. “Thanks. Again. Seems like nowadays, I just keep having to thank you for one thing or the other.” 

You felt him shrug. “Fine by me. You keep adding to these favors you owe me.” 

“It’s only one. Well. Two if you want to be a dick and count this one too.” 

You took a step back, detaching yourself from him to run both hands through your hair. You felt exhausted, drained of energy yet relieved. Who would’ve thought you’d be pleased to see Matthew pull another one of his appearing out of the blue acts?

“You give me no other choice but to be one,” he joked. “Come on, let’s go back to the hotel. Everyone’s wondering where you were, so you kind of lost your right to vote on dinner for tonight.” 

You sighed heavily. “Let me guess: you all ganged up on me in my absence and settled on lobster?” 

Matthew grinned. “Can’t vacation in a seaside town and skip out on that.” 

“Ugh. Sea critters.” You pulled a face, drawing yet another laugh from Matthew. It made you feel oddly accomplished but you cut that train of thought there, forcing it to derail elsewhere, to place more familiar to you, more comfortable. “Matthew, I mean it when I said thank you. That was—it was scary,” you admitted as the two of you started walking back towards the hotel. You pulled your wrist into your hand, rubbing at the skin gently. Focused on the road ahead, you missed Matthew frowning down at the gesture. “I don’t know how that happened. It’s just—it’s not my thing to do. Go out alone, especially in a place like that. Good instincts by the way,” you tried to joke but it fell flat.

“Don’t mention it,” he said, voice tight. “I don’t want to think about it again if I can help it.” 

You cast a confused stare in his direction but by then, it was his turn to look ahead, a frown marring his features. You didn’t push any further though. 

Later that night, after you and Anna decided to call it a day and switch off the lights, you lay in bed glancing a look up at the ceiling above. You didn’t think back on the evening’s events but rather, thought back to how a familiar small brown paper bag was taped to your room’s door before dinner. Anna had fixed you with a knowing stare as you plucked it off the door, tipping its contents into the palm of your hand. 

Then, you thought how during dinner, Matthew had claimed the seat next to yours and complimented the earrings you wore, remarking how awfully familiar they seemed though he could swear he didn’t know where from. For the first time, you had an inside joke to share with him and neither of you bothered to offer any clarifications to everyone else around the table as they tried to press for details. 

three.

The Flames’ first game of the season was scheduled to take place in Las Vegas and with a few days left of vacation, you couldn’t skip on the opportunity to return to the city you were inexplicably fond of, as well as watching your brother play on the third line. The night promised to be unforgettable, and you wouldn’t miss it for the world. Although there were plenty of things to keep you busy throughout the day, your eyes would occasionally wander down to your watch, counting down the hours until the start of the game. It seemed like most of the city was doing the same.

Often, you’d spot handfuls of people donning Knights jerseys and occasionally, there would be a few Flames fans wandering the streets and locales. You’d only spotted one person wearing your brother’s jersey but that was more than enough for you – he was a fairly new face in the professional league, but he certainly pulled his weight during every shift he had on ice whenever given the opportunity. Luckily, you managed to take a quick photo of their back before they disappeared into the crowds, sending it to your brother along with a thumbs-up emoji. 

He didn’t respond immediately, nor did you expect him to. You could only imagine how quickly he racked up pre-game nerves and he had a pretty strict routine, which included avoiding his phone until after the game. You couldn’t really make sense of superstitions even if each member of your family who played, whether professionally or otherwise, had their own. Naturally, you were surprised when your phone pinged, indicating a new message almost half an hour later. Except, it wasn’t quite who you were expecting.

Matthew is that your way of saying good luck?

You frowned, but all it took was a little more attention on your part to notice you hadn’t sent the message to your brother but rather, to Matthew. Lately, he was one of your top contacts for frequent messaging.

You wrong number

You good luck to you too though, i guess :/ 

Matthew busy?

You don’t you have practice to get to?

Matthew [attachment: photo of an ice rink where a few players were captured in motion]

Matthew [attachment: photo of his skates, taken from the players’ bench]

Matthew on break, where are you?

You hanging around

Matthew what are you wearing? 

You [emoji: middle finger] 

Matthew ice cold

Matthew nice, i can handle ice cold

You then go handle ice cold so you don’t get handled tonight

Matthew wish me luck too

You i already did

Matthew i need it twice, it’s my superstition 

You that’s a bullshit superstition

Matthew if we lose tonight, it’s on you

You [emoji: angry face]

You good luck!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Matthew :) 

You dropped your phone on the table with a low groan, slouching in your chair. From across the table, Anna shot you a confused stare which quickly morphed into understanding when you rolled your eyes, shooting your phone a look of frustration as if the device itself was to blame. 

“Anything interesting?” she asked in a singsong tone. 

“If you count Matthew being his usual self interesting, then that’s what’s up. Otherwise, nothing new.”

“By his usual self, do you mean engaging? Funny? Witty? So good with his words that he yet again takes your attention and keeps it while the rest of us, mere mortals, struggle to do that for longer than a few minutes tops?” 

You arched an eyebrow, somewhat amused. “All that – just empty words.” 

Anna leaned back in her seat, taking her glass with her while twirling the straw, looking ahead somewhat thoughtfully. “You know what the two of you remind me of? Those two kids in the playground who think love can only be expressed through pulling hair and making snide remarks.” 

“First of all, that’s a shitty way of trying to get someone to realize you have feelings for them and second of all, love is a pretty big word. You managing to carry it okay?” 

“Okay, maybe not love. But like? It has to be like. Say what you want to say but it looks different from the outside.” 

“Okay, you keep staying out there and let me know what you’re seeing. I like your imagination. Very vivid,” you commented but there was no bite to your words and Anna threw her head back with laughter. 

You didn’t think much of your exchange with Matthew throughout the rest of the day, nor did you try to linger too long on Anna’s interpretation of your relationship with Matthew. You let it wash over you, knowing it’d give her too much satisfaction if you fretted too much over it and anyway, many of your thoughts seemed to fly towards the evening’s game. 

By the time the two of you made your way to the arena, however, you moved from anxiety to excitement within the space of mere moments, apparently. Even if this wasn’t your first rodeo and you’d been to countless games before, there was nothing quite like the thrill of an opening game. You and Anna had spaces reserved in the upper stands along with other family members and significant others but both of you chose to watch the warm-ups close-up, so you hung around by the glass at ice level. 

The Vegas Knights and the Flames stepped on the ice to a combination of cheers and the thump of a loud electronic mix. You spotted your brother almost instantly. He did a quick lap around the team’s half of the ice before pulling a puck towards him with his stick, sliding it this way and that before shooting it over towards the net. Once sufficiently warmed up, he cast a searching look around the rink and you quickly waved both arms up in the air to try and get his attention. You knew he’d spotted you, but he made an entire show out of looking over you until you smacked a hand against the panel. You knew the sound wouldn’t be heard over the general noise of the arena, but he still laughed. When he skated over, you held your phone up, giving it a quick shake and mouthing “selfie?”. 

He flashed a thumbs up and you quickly turned around to take the photo, but it wasn’t until you inspected it afterwards that you noticed you were photobombed by Matthew himself. You had every intention to look up from the screen and somehow try and get his attention only to glare at him, but he was a step ahead. You almost jumped out of your skin when you noticed Matthew standing right there by the glass, smirking at you.

“Asshole,” you mouthed, not daring to voice it out given you were surrounded by kids.

Matthew winked, skated to collect a stray puck then threw it up over the boards towards one of the kids standing right next to you. The kid was clearly thrilled by the gesture, bouncing up and down with the puck held over his head as if it were a trophy. You couldn’t help it: your heart melted at the sight, so you simply nodded once at Matthew, apparently just in time as the warm-up countdown reached zero.

You weren’t surprised the home team were putting on such a show for the opening night. There was a little bit of Vegas in every opening act: from the fireworks set off outside the arena to the showgirls and mind-blowing animations projected down on the ice, it felt more of a Stanley Cup playoff game than the start of a regular season game. This was Vegas and no one did it quite like Vegas did, you had to give that to them. 

Both teams were almost evenly balanced throughout the first period but stepping out of intermissions and into the second, the Flames started powering ahead. It was as if something had clicked together even better and they functioned as a well-oiled machine, both in offence and defense. By the end of that period, they were leading the Knights 3-2 and you were more than elated your brother had earned himself an assist. Like all games, tensions formed quickly, and the third period saw both teams play aggressively. On several occasions, you caught sight of players clearly chirping each other even while heading towards their respective benches after the end of a shift. Once, Matthew seemed to be involved in a seemingly endless yelling match with a player on the opposing team. There were more checks against the panels, an impressive number of penalties drawn by both teams, and it felt as if the atmosphere was just tethering towards a fight.

It happened right after the Flames scored the fourth goal with just two minutes left of the game. 

The moment the puck was dropped at center ice, you watched as Matthew charged ahead towards one of the Knights players who didn’t hesitate to drop the gloves. Between them, Matthew had the faster instinct, and he landed the first punch, effectively forcing both players to fall to the ice while the referees scrambled to try and split them apart. They were there a moment too late, just mere seconds after you caught sight of knuckles scraping along Matthew’s mouth on the big screens above. At first, it seemed to be nothing more than a graze but once he was separated and made his way towards the Flames bench, you noticed several spots of blood on his jersey on the screens above that made you almost jump out of your seat.

Sure, this was a familiar sight, but it didn’t alleviate the sheer shock and restlessness. Whatever had happened between them must’ve been a pretty big deal to set Matthew off the way it did. There was no way of sugarcoating it: the fight was vicious. More than ever, you wanted the period countdown to reach zero so you could go down to the lockers. It wasn’t just a few nagging feelings towards Matthew that led you to react the way you did. He was a friend, after all, so worrying for him was simply natural. An expected way of responding to a situation like that. 

“He had it worse before, remember?” Anna reminded you as you followed the small stream of relatives and friends down towards the players’ rooms.

“Still looked pretty bad to me,” you responded, briefly pulling your lower lip between your teeth. Before she could continue being the voice of reason, you added in a light tone, “I just want to see if he had any teeth knocked out of his mouth this time around.”

It took some time before the players filed out and as you watched them come out one by one, you almost wished you saved this for somewhere less…well, public. Sure, you were just a friend checking on a friend, but you wished you could do that without an audience. 

Your brother emerged first, beaming, no doubt pleased with the win, and you hugged him tightly, easily sharing his joy. 

“He’s just getting ready to come out now,” he informed you, heading nodding back towards the locker.

You blinked. “What? Oh—no, I’m just. I was waiting for you to say congratulations. What are you even talking about,” you mumbled but inevitably, your eyes were drawn towards the locker room as the door swung open and Matthew stepped out.

His hair was still damp but already curling again. He was dressed in the same suit he probably arrived in, a simple light grey number that fit him perfectly. He had his backpack on also and in one hand, he carried an apparently ice-cold bottle of water while the other was pressing an ice pack to the corner of his mouth. When you made eye contact, he frowned lightly and for a moment, seemed almost hesitant to approach you. This time, you were a step ahead and cornered him before he decided to walk away.

You nodded your head once, indicating in his general direction. “What? You’re trying to add to the family’s hefty dentist bill by getting a few teeth knocked out already?”

Matthew shrugged. “It’s not hockey without a few scraps now and then.”

“For a guy who got a goal and an assist, you sure don’t look too pleased with that.” 

At that comment, Matthew’s expression shifted, lightening up considerably. “Are you keeping track of my stats now?”

“What? No, Tkachuk. I was doing what everyone else in that arena was doing: paying attention generally speaking.” 

Suddenly, his entire face scrunched up in pain and he almost doubled over as he groaned. Instinctively, you reached out for him, eyes widening a little when bending down a little to try and look at his face. 

“Oh my god—Matthew. Are you okay? Do you need me to get a medic to check—” 

You frowned as soon as you felt his shoulders tremble under your touch. Slowly, it dawned on you he was laughing. Laughing. You slapped his shoulder lightly, the gesture more a tap than anything else and you started walking down the corridor quickly, trying to catch up with everyone else as they filed out of the arena. 

“Hey, hey, wait, Y/N! Come on, don’t be mad,” he called out after you and you heard him jog to catch up with you. When he did, he took a couple more steps ahead then stepped in your path, walking backwards to match your pace. “I was only messing around. I couldn’t not do that. You should’ve seen your face, honestly.” 

“My face? Hope you’ve seen yours. I’m not mad. Me being mad would basically mean you managed to get to me which you really didn’t, so don’t give yourself any credit, Tkachuk,” you responded. “You just reminded me you’re still a dick so thanks for that.” 

“Give me a free pass. I’m injured.” 

“If you’re searching for sympathy, you’re looking for it in the wrong place,” you informed him, side stepping him so that he resumed walking at your side instead. After a few moments of silence, you conceded with a sigh. “Seriously speaking. How’s your mouth?”

“Don’t think I’ll need fillers, let’s just say.” He removed his hand from his mouth, and you looked over. 

Thankfully, it seemed that putting ice on it quickly was paying off. The area was somewhat red, but no significant damage seemed to be visible to the untrained eye. He was certainly miles better than he was just months ago. 

“Looks okay, I guess,” you shrugged. “What happened? Honestly, it looked pretty intense from the outside.” 

Matthew didn’t respond and you didn’t press him for details even after you stepped out into the balmy Vegas night. If he chose to not share with you, then you guessed it must’ve been either pretty personal or pretty stupid. You leaned more towards the former. You didn’t even complain when he followed you to the car you hired, claiming the passenger seat. Before you also stepped inside, a message pinged in from Anna informed you she had taken off with Johnny for dinner but promised to be back in the room in a few to catch up.

You didn’t start the engine when you fixed your seatbelt and instead, leaned your head back against the rest, watching a few other vehicles pull out of the car park. In his seat, Matthew was looking out of the window to his left, heading resting against a loosely formed fist propped up against the door. 

“He was talking shit about you,” he said at last, but didn’t turn to you when he spoke. 

“Who was?” 

“The guy on the other team. He made a comment about you towards your brother at the end of the shift. Something about… I don’t know, something crude, vulgar. Don’t really remember it.” 

You didn’t quite believe him on the last part, but you allowed it anyway. “Okay… Well, I don’t know the guy anyway, so it didn’t matter, Matthew. You should have let it slip by or left my brother to deal with it.” Then, out of curiosity, you asked, “why didn’t you?”

More silence. Occasionally, the muffled sound of a passing car would cut through it but it, too, would be gone in seconds.

“Because I couldn’t.”

You pursed your lips and your fingers clenched then unclenched in your lap. You placed your hands on the steering wheel, then dropped them away before settling them back on it after starting the engine. 

“Thanks, I guess. You just keep making me owe you favors.”

“You don’t owe me—”

“So, I’ll clear that now with dinner. Just please don’t tell me you’re going to need to be on a smoothie diet. I’ll feel bad eating something really good while you’re there with a strawberry and banana drink. Not that I’d stop eating though, just so you know. But it’s the thought that counts,” you said and finally, finally he chuckled quietly. 

“No smoothie diets this time.”

You sighed dramatically. “Maybe no smoothie diets ever?”

Matthew shrugged. He was still not meeting your eyes but that was okay. “Can’t promise that. Kind of comes with the job. Just in case though, I like the sweeter stuff more. Triple chocolate, Oreo pieces, peanut butter.” 

“Thanks, Matthew. I’ll file that under information I don’t care to know about.” 

“I’m injured. Show some sympathy,” he demanded without heat, finally turning to you. 

You cooed then reached out with one of your hands to pat his cheek lightly. “Aw, really searching for it in the wrong place.”

“I’ll make do with what I can get,” he allowed, and you could swear he leaned into your touch, but you tore your hand away before either of you got too comfortable. 

four.

Matthew called in his favor after a few of his teammates agreed where to host their Halloween party. 

“Kind of sounds like you’re the one asking for a favor,” you commented, planting yourself at your kitchen table while securing the phone between your ear and shoulder.

Matthew sighed on the other end. “Sort of. Who does a themed Halloween party anyway? The theme itself is Halloween.” 

“You’re not wrong about that. Could be fun though, a bit more unique. So, what’s the theme for this year?” 

“Couple outfits,” Matthew replied without hesitation. 

You stilled and were grateful he wasn’t in the same room as you. It took you a great deal more energy over the course of the past few months to convince yourself that Matthew didn’t attract you in one way or another. His looks aside, it was rare you came across someone who could easily keep up with your snide remarks and the more you got to know him, the more you realized that there was more to Matthew than just being a typical athlete with his share of well-deserved fame. He was funny, dedicated and undoubtedly, caring. You had some first-hand experience with the latter. After all, he didn’t owe you anything to make him obligated to jump into whatever weird situation you found yourself in.

You warmed to him little by little. If you found him attractive, well that was for you alone to know though it made everything just that more difficult. Thankfully, Matthew seemed pretty oblivious to it or at least, he was doing a good job at pretending he didn’t catch you staring at him on several occasions or the few times you took a discrete step back if it felt like you were too close to him. Knowing he was asking you to go together as a couple (pretend couple, you corrected yourself) only added to the difficulty of coming to terms with your…crush. 

Puppy love, you assured yourself. It’ll go as quickly as it came. 

“Y/N?”

“Sorry, still here. Guess it sucks another year will go by without the opportunity to bring out your Fortnite costume.”

“Oh, come on. I wouldn’t dress like a game character!”

“Matthew,” you warned.

There was a pause, then, “okay, fine. Maybe I would. So, can you come?” 

You shrugged, then remembered he couldn’t see it. “I owe it to you, don’t I?”

“Great! Hey, choose something good for us. There’s going to be a prize for best dressed and I have my eyes on it.”

“I think we can both agree my creativity will not let us down. I’ll text you my idea. You just make sure you actually stick to it, so I don’t end up looking stupid.”

“Don’t worry,” he started, “I won’t dump you on Halloween.”

“Good to know I won’t end up traumatized and have my favorite holiday ruined,” you said, by way of goodbye.

-

“Hey, spin around for me once. You look good. Blonde’s not bad on you.” 

“No color’s bad on me,” you responded but refused to entertain Matthew by complying with his request. Instead, you rang the bell to Noah’s apartment after the door didn’t budge when Matthew tried the handle. 

“Come on, just a spin,” Matthew insisted, nudging his elbow into your own then pressed the doorbell himself once again – hard, as if that would make it ring louder.

“Only if you dance for me and do the entire Greased Lightning choreography without missing a step.” 

Matthew feigned a groan and you shot him an amused look. Before you could even comment on that, the door opened, and Noah stood at the threshold. The ruckus from inside spilled out into the corridor and from what you could see beyond him, it was a full house of all sorts of characters. 

“Wow! Sandy and Danny! Finally, someone with really good taste,” Noah said by way of greeting and he looked towards you pointedly. 

You flashed him a grin. “Always a pleasure to exceed expectations,” you responded and stepped into his open arms, a clear invitation for an embrace that was shortly broken apart by Matthew.

“Hey, none of that man,” he said, pulling you back and easily holding most of your weight as you broke into a laugh that had you stumbling into his side. “I didn’t even get to tell her she’s the one that I want.” 

“Yeah, well, you better shape up ‘cause I need a man,” you responded, without missing a beat though you couldn’t help but replay his words in your mind. They sounded a lot like a broken record that you desperately wished to stop immediately before this…thing went way too far and spun out of control.  

You were both led towards a photo wall and if you had any nerves about striking good poses without at least some liquid courage first, all that vanished. To your surprise, Matthew easily took the lead initially, falling to his knees in front of you in an attempt to recreate the part where a smitten Danny fell before Sandy, completely and utterly overwhelmed by her presence. Despite it being difficult to control your laughter, you played along with ease. At first, you were simply grinning down at him but you couldn’t let all his in-character effort go to waste, so you turned, casting a glance down towards him over your shoulder. To your side, Noah’s flash was going off every few seconds as he tried to capture the two of you from the best angle, together with cheers of encouragement. For your second pose, you rested your arms on Matthew’s shoulders once he rose back to his full height and his hands held on to either side of your torso. Again, the flash went off and again, the two of you changed pose into something more casual: him, standing behind you with his palms on your hips while you place a hand on his face, grinning at the camera. The flash went off again and he whooped loudly.

“I’m never inviting both of you to a party with this theme again,” Noah muttered, feigning disgruntlement. “You can’t come into my home and kill it like that.” 

“Blame the one who came up with this idea in the first place,” Matthew defended, holding both hands up in the air in a gesture of innocence. 

It was true. The idea to dress as Danny and Sandy from Grease came to you fairly quickly. You knew the two were a popular go-to, but you enjoyed the movie greatly. Plus, it was a great opportunity for you to pull out a pair of red heels you invested a hefty sum of money into. And, well, admittedly there was something about Matthew that made you think he’d suit the role just fine. When you shared your idea with him, he was on board from the start without complaining or suggesting alternatives. You were grateful for that: when Matthew picked you up earlier, dressed in an all-black outfit, leather jacket and hair styled to rival John Travolta’s, you gave yourself a mental pat on your shoulder. If any photos would go up on the internet, you were pretty sure Instagram would be grateful to you. Certainly, you knew Chantal and Keith would get a kick out of it for sure.

“Guilty as charged,” you acknowledged. “I’m going to look for Anna. Catch you later.” You gave a wave to the both of them before making your way towards the hub of activity where couple costumes ranged from peanut butter and jelly to superheroes. 

She was fairly easy to locate, in part because she told you she and Johnny would dress as Wonder Woman and Steve Trevor. The red, blue and gold of her outfit were unmissable even in a sea of costumes. As soon as she spotted you approaching, she made a beeline and wrapped an arm around yours.

“Tell me you and Matthew will recreate the entire You’re the One That I Want scene,” she pleaded. “Please tell me that at some point this evening, you’ll tell us to clear the dancefloor so the two of you can have your moment.”

You rolled your eyes, dragging her along towards a table hosting drinks and small bites. “There’s no moment we’re going to be having.” 

“Because you don’t want to or because you want to so badly that you don’t know how to ask him? I’m pretty sure he’ll say yes.” 

“Neither,” you muttered but even you’d be able to hear the lack of conviction in your tone from a mile away. 

To take your mind off it, you poured yourself a glass of red wine, taking a tentative sip from it. Across the room, Matthew had deposited his black leather jacket away and started making rounds around the room. You took a longer sip from your wine and looked away. 

Anna fixed you with a knowing stare which you refused to acknowledge, but she knew you like the back of her hand. “It’s okay to say you like him, you know,” she advised, and you hated the soothing tone she tried to take when saying that. It felt more pitying than anything, as if you hadn’t already had your share of disappointments in love—or, relationships better said. 

“Who said anything about liking him? He’s not bad to look at I’ll admit, but that’s where it stops.” You frowned, looking out of the nearest nearby window that gave a broad view of the city below. “That’s where I want it to stop,” you admitted, this time quieter. 

You were well aware that you were occasionally trying to look for a narrative that was most convenient for late night thoughts when you had the peace and privacy to think of him as you wished. The reality couldn’t be more different, though, and you knew that. Matthew was helpful to you before because he was good friends with your brother and eventually, you realized that it was just part of his nature. Beyond being successful, beyond his fame and recognition, Matthew was kind and funny and respectful. It was just that you didn’t give him the chance to before and now that you got to know him better, you suddenly realized that…what? You’d like the first man who gives you a helping hand? If that were the case, you should’ve gotten the memo sooner: it would’ve been easier liking the tech guy from work who once debugged your laptop.

It wasn’t doing you any good to try and look for a ‘but’ in every situation: Matthew is helpful because he’s good friends with my brother but it’s not like that should force him to act as if we’re romantically involved not once or twice or thrice but now, four times. Regardless of how you looked at it, that reeked of desperation. You were in that weird period in your life where it felt as if everyone around you was in a relationship, so maybe that mood translated to you. 

That’s right, you settled. That’s what was possibly behind these thoughts of yours. You found Matthew attractive – and what? So did plenty of other people. You saw him surrounded by girls after practice, after matches, while out. What you felt was nothing special. It felt easier to think of it that way, even if for a few hours to truly enjoy the party without having that lurking at the back of your mind. 

You mingled easily, danced with Anna, danced with other players’ girlfriends and wives, danced with your brother, even attempted a few traditional Russian dances taught by Nikita, Artyom and a few of their friends, that left you breathless by their rapid pace and intricate footwork. 

“I’m done!” you declared, breathless and almost swaying on your feet when another Russian folk song came to an end but thankfully, you managed to hold steady before you could catch a ride on the hot mess express. “Absolutely wasted. Knocked out.” You stepped away, tired but euphoric and dropped rather unceremoniously on one of the available couches pushed against a wall. 

“Having fun?” Matthew asked and there was a light flush on his cheeks you knew wasn’t from dancing. There was even just a slight slur to his speech.

“The most,” you replied, breathless, and accepted the drink he held out to you. You took a sip without questioning him what was in the glass, only to find out for yourself he was settling for harder stuff tonight. “But never let it be said that anyone can keep up with Russians because let me tell you,” you whistled quietly, “we’re a couple of steps behind. Plenty of steps behind, actually.” 

Matthew flashed a lazy smile and you briefly spared a moment to envy him for how kept together he remained despite being evidently buzzed. “’s okay. At least we’re the better dressed ones so we lose in style.” 

You took another sip from his glass, holding it out to him with a smirk. “Tell me about it, stud,” you said in what you hoped was a low, alluring tone of voice but no sooner did you think that, and you were reduced to embarrassed laughter. “Forget about that! Forget it, forget it! Where’s the delete button?” 

“I didn’t come equipped with that,” he declared proudly, finishing off what was left of his drink. “C’mere, you can show me a couple of those steps you learned.” 

He stood, a little unsteadily initially then held a hand to you. You knew he wouldn’t have the strength to pull you up properly, so you stood easily fully intent to actually lead him through some of the steps. Except, Matthew was definitely swaying more than you thought he would. There was something inexplicably amusing about the situation and instead of directing him towards the center of the room, you steered him away from it and towards a small bathroom you were shown to earlier that night when you needed some time to re-touch your makeup. 

“Where’re we going?” he asked curiously, looking over his shoulder towards the living room with a look that could only be read as longing. 

“To cool down a little and then you can learn as many folk dances as you want. Believe me, you need to be alert for them. Can’t miss a step,” you advised, trying to steady him by wrapping an arm around him though the difference in weight between the two of you couldn’t compare. Still, you managed to get him into the bathroom safely without either of you making a mess of yourselves or the room. 

“Are you gonna cool down too?” he questioned. 

“Sure thing, definitely need it.” 

“Good, we’ll cool down together.” With that, he made a move to open the glass partition for the shower cubicle but thankfully, you were significantly more alert than he was and managed to prevent him from doing anything more than that.

“Not that sort of cool down. Here, sit here,” you encouraged, lowering the lid on the toilet so Matthew could drop down. You doubted you’d be able to hold much of his strength above the sink if you were to help him splash some cold water on his face.

“But I want that sort of cool down,” he slurred. “With you. Us two. You said you want to cool down too. Could be a couple activity.” He grinned, as if proud of himself. 

Thankfully, Matthew was buzzed enough to miss the flush on your face, the slight shake of your hand as you arranged a towel around his neck to prevent too much overspill before turning the tap on. 

“Can’t do that, Matthew. Here, this will be much better, I promise.” 

“Wanna try though,” he mumbled but was still compliant as you pressed a wet, cool palm against his forehead, then either of his cheeks. “Not cool enough.” His complaint was accompanied by a frown which only morphed into a lazy smirk when he leaned back, trying to pull you with him. “C’mon, Y/N. It’s a couple’s Halloween night.” 

“Matthew, we’re not a couple,” you said gently, pushing your palms against his shoulders in an attempt to free yourself from his hold. Before it was too late. Before you allowed yourself to get drawn into a drunk man’s ramblings. 

“But I wanna be. A couple, with you.” 

You put all your strength into breaking away from his hold and thankfully, managed to do so. Your heart was hammering in your chest as if desperately trying to release itself from the cage of your ribs. 

“Matthew, you’re drunk. Here, splash some cold water on your face so you can come back to your senses.” 

“But I’m not drunk,” he insisted and as if to demonstrate, he stood up quickly. He swayed on the spot, stretching out his arms a little and once he found his footing, he looked towards you with an expression that mixed pride with hopefulness. “See? Definitely okay—”

You frowned, feeling a little caged in. You should’ve left the door open at least. “Okay, then let’s go back out there, yeah? I can get an Uber and I’ll take you home if you prefer that?” 

“Yes,” he said, then leaned back against the door. “Only if you come with me.” 

You exhaled, suddenly tired as if the exchange was working every ounce of energy out of you. “I’ll come to make sure you’re okay and can make it to your bed okay.”

“I can though. I can definitely make it there even on my own and you know why? Because I’m not drunk,” Matthew insisted and when you shot him a look of disbelief, he peeled himself away from the door. “Look, look I can prove it to you I’m not drunk.” 

Before you could even ask him to walk a straight line without stumbling his steps, Matthew’s arm wrapped around your waist while his other hand pressed on the back of your head, bringing you closer until your lips met. Kissing Matthew was like everything you imagined and more. He even did that with the same passion with which he skated on ice, chasing puck after puck. It left you breathless how well he worked his lips against your own as if all along, he knew how to do that in such way that it’d leave your legs feeling like jelly. Beyond that though, it felt comfortable. Not forceful despite him having not asked if he could do it in the first place, yet it still felt right. You tasted sweetness on his mouth and the sharp tang of whiskey. Vaguely, you knew nothing else could compare. It was that thought that made you push away from him with as much force as you could muster, ducking under his arm and towards the door. 

“I’ll ask someone to take you home,” you said without even looking his way before leaving dashing out of the bathroom.

“You okay?” Anna asked you when you ran into her. Quite literally. 

“Uh—yeah. No, actually. I think I feel a bit unwell so I’m going to head home, okay?” 

You made a move to leave but her arm stopped you. “Hey. Are you sure you’re okay?” 

Above her shoulder, you saw Matthew emerge from the bathroom, a little dazzled, eyes searching the room. Before he could even spot you, you quickly freed yourself from her hold and nodded. “Will be. I’ll text you when I get home. Don’t rush back, okay? Tell Alex I said thanks for the invite.” 

You didn’t stumble a step in your heels as you jogged towards the door, making a swift exit before you attracted even more attention.

+ one.

Matthew left no calls and no messages, but that was fine. You didn’t spend time trying to build your expectations of anything like that happening because drunk words weren’t always sober thoughts. The event was just something you had to deal with and if you had to do it alone, then so be it. Reasonably speaking, you and Matthew went from nothing to friends and if you caught feelings along the way, then that was your mistake for letting yourself slip like that. You were left broken hearted once, you really didn’t want to go through that again especially over someone that wasn’t even really and truly yours to begin with.

So, the next morning, you woke up at a reasonably early hour despite the late night but felt energized enough to sweep through your apartment and collect the garments you tossed carelessly on your way to bed after arriving at home. You said a heartfelt goodbye to Sandy, apologizing that in this scenario, her and Danny didn’t end up driving off in a red convertible. After that, you showered and changed in a fresh set of clothes even if the day would most likely be spent indoors. It was a fitting conclusion to the Halloween weekend, and you could do with some downtime, really.

Anna must’ve stayed with Johnny because regardless of how much noise you made, she didn’t emerge from the room and after fixing a quick breakfast and brewing coffee to continued silence, you knew you were right. It didn’t bother you. You’d make full use of the couch and stretch out on it properly as you flicked through your Netflix account and for the sake of sticking to weekend morning traditions, you selected a lighthearted sitcom. You were halfway through the third episode when your doorbell rang. You could’ve sworn Anna had a spare key of her own unless she misplaced it or forgot it home. Not entirely out of question.

Except, it wasn’t Anna who greeted you when you opened the door.

“Oh.” You coughed lightly, crossing your arms then unfolding them, then leaning one against the doorway before dropping it to your side. “Hey—uh. Hey Tkachuk, isn’t it a bit early for you to be out and about? You were smashed the last time I saw you.” 

Matthew looked over your shoulder into the apartment, as if checking to see if you were alone. “Can I come in?” 

Defeated, you stepped to the side and cleared the way for him to step inside before pushing the door closed. Part of you wished you’d dressed up as if you were ready to head off somewhere. You weren’t quite ready nor willing to face whatever music Matthew had in mind for you. 

In the aftermath of the party, out of the flashiness of the costume, Matthew seemed to be perfectly clear-headed despite the state you’d left him in. The curls atop his head seemed soft despite the natural frizz and as he passed by, you caught a whiff of sharp cologne and fresh bodywash. 

“Is Anna here?”

“Are we playing twenty-one questions?” 

“No?”

“Kind of sounds like it, though?” You laughed quietly, trying to lighten the mood. It was bad enough the weather outside was gloomy, autumn settling in full force. Now, you had to deal with a Matthew who looked as if he wasn’t sure he came to the right place. “Coffee?” you asked, already leading the way towards the kitchen. You heard him follow behind you just moments later. While you poured a full cup for him, he hovered by the table, making you frown at him. “What’s wrong with you? You need an invite to sit down and relax? Seriously, Matthew, you look like you should be in bed.” 

“You left last night without saying anything,” he said instead. 

“Uh—yeah. I was kind of tired and I wanted it to call it a night early so—”

“Was it because of what I said or what I did?” 

You almost dropped the coffee cup, but fortunately only startled enough for the liquid to slosh over the rim and down the back of your hand, causing you to hiss in pain. You cursed quietly and, in an instant, Matthew crossed over the room and took the cup from you, setting it down on the table before leading you towards the sink. As if used to this, he placed your hand under ice cold water and once the sharp pain numbed, you pushed his hand away, taking a step to the side in an attempt to put more distance between you. 

“It’s fine, I’ve got this,” you mumbled, holding your hand still under the jet for a few more seconds before closing it.

It was hardly worth the fuss, but it gave you a reason to make yourself busy with something other than freaking out. It couldn’t be that he remembered anything. It couldn’t be that he was standing in your kitchen, thinking that it was a good idea to just open up that subject when you were so ready to take a shovel to it and bury it six feet under. 

“Didn’t you get tired of it at all?” he tried again.

“Tired of what?”

“Of pretending. Of only acting like we’re together for one reason or the other—”

“Matthew, I asked you only once and you know why. I apologized then but if it helps you sleep better at night, I’ll apologize again for dragging you into my mess. I don’t know what the point is of this discussion—”

“The point,” he said, raising his voice but only to cut through your speech. “The point is that I’m tired of it. I’m tired of having to be by your side and pretend. It got to a stage where I don’t even know what’s real and what isn’t, and I feel as if the only time I’ll know that for sure will be when you find someone, so you no longer need to turn to me to pretend.” 

“Matthew, I’m not using you, if that’s what you’re thinking. You’re coming at me with this out of the blue and I don’t even understand what this is all about,” you argued, waving a hand between the two of you. 

Matthew clenched his jaw. You watched as he flexed it and his eyebrows furrowed. “Do you need me to spell it out for you again? I thought I was pretty straightforward about what I want last night.” 

“You were drunk last night, is what you were. You could hardly put a foot in front of the other.” 

“You know that’s not true,” he retorts, lifting his arms then dropping them back down to his sides. “I was sober enough to know damn well what I said and why I said it. If you want to keep pretending even now, even at this point, then you go ahead and do that but let me be clear with you again and you take what you want from it: I don’t want to pretend with you anymore. I want to be with you. You want to know what that feels like? It feels a lot like being so close to something you want, literally having that thing dangled right in front of you only to have it snatched just when you think it’s yours. Me kissing you last night? I’m sorry I forced it on you, I could’ve gone about doing it differently but I’m not sorry for what I feel. That was all me and not the alcohol. So, you take this and do what you want with it.”

You stared at him, disbelieving your ears. It wouldn’t surprise you if that was the case: you did wake up surprisingly refreshed even after an emotionally charged night, so for all you knew, you could be dreaming this. 

“Matthew, what are you—That’s, you’re kidding me with this right? You can’t. You can’t possibly think that.” 

“And why not?”

“Because it doesn’t make sense. Are you even hearing yourself talk?” 

“Why doesn’t it make sense? Want me to go about it differently? If you let me pull your hair, I’ll let you push me in the sandbox.” 

You were suffering from a strange, ill-timed case of déjà vu. Part of you wanted to laugh at the situation but the bigger part of you triumphed, thankfully. You released a breath you had been holding, bringing both hands up to cover your face, taking some moments to yourself. Or perhaps, you’d lost track of time because eventually, you heard Matthew sigh and felt his fingers wrap around each wrist though he didn’t put pressure to tug your hands down from your face.

“Sorry. I’m just—I’m not doing this the right way. I don’t want it to seem like I’m forcing my feelings on you and that you should accept them. If I misread us—you at any point, then fine. Just, we can drop it here and I’ll deal with it but—”

You shook your head slowly. “No, I just need a moment. Sorry. You really caught me by surprise. I didn’t… I thought everything you said last night…what you did… I thought that was just, well, just the alcohol. So, I did the best thing I knew to do and, uh, left.”

“Drunk words, sober thoughts,” he reminded you quietly and this time, you dropped your hands away from your face so you could look up at him. 

He was so handsome. Ridiculously handsome in his casual clothes. Briefly, you thought back to the time you first found safety in his arms and wondered if maybe… Well, why not. You closed the distance between the two of you, wrapping your arms around him, fingers clinging to the thick material of his hoodie while you faceplanted against his chest and breathed him in.

You liked Matthew. You liked Matthew so much that the admission overwhelmed you so much that you squeezed him to you, trying desperately to bring him closer. The gesture seemed to prompt him into action, and he returned the hug, pressing a kiss to the top of your head and then to the base of your throat once he’d lowered his head there. 

“Me too. I want to be with you too. Really be with you. No more of this pretend stuff,” you told him, your voice muffled against his body, but you knew he caught every word.

He chuckled, the sound low and deep, sending shivers down your spine. “We won Noah’s competition last night.”

“Bet he did it because of your long face,” you commented, unable to help yourself. “What did we win?” 

Matthew made a move to step back, but you clung to him, much to your embarrassment. It seemed as if your body acted out of sync with your mind, but who could blame it when Matthew stood right there, right before you. Turned out he only took a step back to lift you off your feet and instinctively, you wrapped your legs around his hips, arms resting loosely around his neck. You leaned in and pressed a fleeting kiss to his mouth as he stumbled away from the kitchen while you stole another kiss. And then, just because you could, a third. 

“A voucher to a seafood restaurant,” he informed you, breaking into a laugh when you groaned, throwing your head back in sheer frustration even if you had a strong feeling he was only messing with you.

“Remind me to never put so much effort if that’s what the stake are.” 

“Noted. Next time, I’ll tell you we could just stay home for Halloween and play by our rules. Outfits optional. Probably not recommended.” 

“That’s…really not what I said.” 

“I’m reading between the lines. See? We know each other so well.” 

You laughed as he carried you all the way into your room without even as much as breaking a sweat. That was definitely some food for thought at a later point.

#matthew tkachuk #matthew tkachuk fic #matthew tkachuk imagine #nhl fic #nhl fanfic #nhl imagine #*

[luvnami]

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 - wahh it’s here! can’t believe my brainrot of osamu teaching a cooking class turned into this long fic lol... i hope you enjoy it!! it was fun crafting the story with my beta readers and i put a lot of effort into it!!! itadakimasu <3

𝐛𝐞𝐭𝐚 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐬 - @forgetou​ @amjustagirl​ (muacks 2x) + tq to everyone who helped me with the banner!!

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 - you’re suna’s younger sibling, food, heartbreak, angst but happy ending, mentions of stabbing (joke), kita dances to ‘ice cream’ by selena gomez and blackpink, mentions of alcohol, mentions of blood (brief), suna beats (redacted) up

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 - miya osamu x gn!reader

𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬 - you fall in love with miya osamu once more, but you’re afraid of getting hurt again.

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 - 5535

𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 | 𝐤𝐨-𝐟𝐢

1. Cook the rice according to your rice cooker, then transfer the cooked rice to a separate bowl to cool it down.

“What ya want t’do is scorch the soy sauce.”

The class presses themselves against Osamu’s workbench as they scribble down notes on their recipe printouts. Their lips purse to ooh and aah at his cooking skills, though you’re pretty sure that they’re more interested in how his biceps flex when he flips the wok with a trained flick of the wrist. 

You stand at the very edge of the group. It’s better than getting close with a group of hungry housewives, really. If grocery store and department mall sales have ever told you anything, it’s to never get in the way of what a seasoned housewife wants. Unfortunately for you, you haven’t learnt the way of being a homemaker just yet. 

You’re unemployed, right in the middle of a month and a half-ish long transfer between jobs. You currently stay at your brother Suna’s place — which is really just an apartment filled with dirty laundry overflowing from its seams.

Turns out Suna himself is a bit of a gossip.  He told Kita who told Atsumu who told Osamu that you’re stuck at his place 24/7 with no friends or entertainment in the lovely city of Nagano. It’s just mountains and trees as far as the eye can see all around — and there’s only so many hikes you can take each week. 

“Why don’t you take a cookin’ class?” 

“Cookin’?” Your face screwed up in confusion. “ What for?”

“So that you can actually pull your weight around the house and make me something to eat.”

You chucked a pillow at his head and began to list all the things you did while staying at his apartment. Laundry, cleaning the floor, doing grocery shopping (even if it was only instant noodles and snacks), finding his disgustingly sweaty socks under the sofa and many other important chores, thank you very much.

Besides, you weren’t as eager when you saw who was the one that would be holding the classes. With his picture plastered across the front of a pamphlet, your heart dropped into the pit of your stomach. Years of chasing his dreams and training in a kitchen had done Osamu wonders. 

You had half a mind to smack Suna in the head with the yellow, glossy paper, but instead you quietly tucked it into a corner of the guest room to look at later. You were sure Suna hadn’t forgotten your history with Osamu just yet — but perhaps he assumed that enough time had passed to heal your wounds.

Either way, there’s no going back now. That’s how you ended up at Osamu’s ‘Cooking class for homemakers — you can do it too!’, except you aren’t a homemaker. You shift your weight from one foot to the other as the sound of sizzling soy sauce fills the air. Osamu pauses for a while before beginning to mix the rice with the sauce, wielding his spatula and wok expertly like weapons.

“Miya-san, you’re amazing!” someone gushes.

He lets out a bashful laugh. “This is nothing. I’m sure everyone will be able to do this by the end of class today!”

You wonder if he’s ever considered being a teacher. The demonstration on how to make shrimp fried rice is soon over and everyone returns to their benches, eager to try out the recipe. You are no different. Scurrying to your bench at the very back of the classroom, you exchange glances between the printed recipe handout and your tray of ingredients.

“Need any help?” 

Osamu’s voice and looming presence makes you jump.

“Woah! Careful there,” he chuckles, his fingers gently prying a knife out of your hands.

Unconsciously, you had raised it in shock when Osamu snuck up on you. The knife now lays safely on the tabletop and you feel the eyes of the entire class boring into you.

“Sorry, Miya-san. I didn’t see you,” you apologise meekly.

“Don’t worry about it, I shouldn't have scared ya like that. And no need for the formalities! You’re my friend’s sister, afta’ all.”

Oh goodness. You half expect the class to pick up their pots and pans and run at you right this moment. You swallow back the half hearted ‘Osamu-san’ that rises in your throat. Your heart trembles in your chest and for a second, the silence that weighs heavily between the both of you turns awkward. 

“Miya-san! Could you help me with this please?” 

You’ve never been so glad to hear Tachibana’s sickly shrill voice before. Osamu is quick to wave goodbye to you before hurrying over to her bench, a smile still on his face. You breathe a sigh of relief. 

You make a mental note to tell Suna that Osamu should just stick to placating those housewives and leave you the hell alone. The last thing you want is to have blackmail spread around the neighbourhood by these gossipy housewives, or worse, have their daughters hunt you down and chop you up into pieces.

Whatever. You’re just here to learn how to make shrimp fried rice and then go home to your annoying older brother. Besides, it’s not like you’ll be here for long. Miya Osamu just happens to be the local heartthrob, the handsome and eligible bachelor chased by anyone single and ready to mingle. You have absolutely nothing to do with someone so popular and good-looking. And for goodness sake, he’s your brother’s high school friend and your… Well, you know. 

Your face burns and you pick up the knife again, grip tightening on its handle. You begin chopping at the onions with renewed determination.

(Later on, when you bring back a tupperware of fried rice for Suna, he looks you in the eye and asks “Shrimp fried this rice?”.

You shoot him a glare.

“I fried this rice.”)

2. Prepare all the fillings that you are going to use and set aside, such as pickled plums or tuna mayo. Prepare your seaweed sheets.

What you don’t expect is for Miya Osamu to show up at your doorstep the next day with boxes of food, cartons of drinks and a very noisy brother of his in tow. 

“Rin, where can I leave the drinks?” Osamu yells.

“Rin, can I play your PS5?” Atsumu shouts.

You think that they are very different, the Miya twins. Suna takes a minute to finish putting on some clothes (you had answered the door, thankfully. No one wants to see Suna Rintarou in Pikachu boxers) before bursting out of his room.

He’s quick to smack Atsumu’s ‘dirty little setter hands’ away from his precious Playstation, directing Osamu to what constitutes the apartment’s kitchen — a second-hand fridge and the building-installed gas stove that works only if you hit it hard enough. You’re surprised that neither you or Suna haven't died of a house fire or gas poisoning by now.

It doesn’t take long for the other Inarizaki alumni to arrive at Suna’s apartment in a series of doorbell rings. Kita even brings along a large bottle of sake, to which everyone cheers loudly. You don’t understand why they had chosen Suna’s place to have a reunion party. Seriously, wouldn't Onigiri Miya or some other izakaya have been a better choice?

However, there’s free flow of drinks and lots of yummy snacks, so you decide to let the noise wash over you and stand by the food table to pick at the trays of pizza, fried chicken and other finger food. Aran even offers you a drink, smiling sweetly before going off to wrangle Atsumu from trying to initiate a beer chugging competition. Some things just never change, you suppose.

“Having fun?”

You jump and nearly drop the plate of food that you hold.

“You have a horrible habit of scaring people, Miya- Osamu.”

His first name comes out awkward, tumbling off of your tongue as you use a pair of chopsticks to carefully pile back some mentaiko mayonnaise onto a slice of tamagoyaki. Osamu settles into the crook of the kitchen counter next to you with a playful grin on his face.

“Do I really?”

“Don’t forget that the first time you did that, someone nearly got stabbed.”

You pop the tamagoyaki into your mouth. It’s delicious — the egg’s sweetness balances out the salty sauce. You wonder if there’s enough left on the tray for seconds. 

“How’s the reunion going?” you ask nonchalantly, and shuffle a few centimetres away from him.

You hope Osamu doesn’t notice that. He does, however, but chooses not to comment on it. He brings up a hand to scratch at his neck, his shoulders slumping ever so slightly. He’s close enough for you to get a whiff of whatever cologne he’s wearing. Your head spins for a second. 

“Oh, none of us have gotten drunk just yet. I’m pretty sure we’ll be playing beer pong or something later on.”

You steel yourself against the urge to look at what Osamu is wearing. Don’t look, don’t look, definitely don’t look. Miya Osamu is, has been, a dangerous man to fall in love with. You can’t afford to- 

Perhaps gouging your eyes out would have been a better choice in theory. Even a glance from where you stand beside him is enough to see that not only is he wearing a tight, black T-shirt, Osamu also has a pair of sweatpants on. Is it a sin to wear sweatpants? Probably so, especially with the way it makes your throat run dry. 

“Beer pong, huh?” You try your best to mumble somewhat nonchalantly. “Who won the last time?”

“Kita.”

“Kita?!” you gasp. 

Even that’s enough to make you forget about Osamu and his stupid (and very sexy) sweatpants. 

“Yeah, right? That was the first time he participated. All of us got left drunk in the street, so we decided to do it at someone’s place this year.”

You let out a soft laugh at the thought of a bunch of grown men piled over each other on the road. You don’t particularly like the thought of cleaning up after them tonight, though. 

The lack of words between you and Osamu descends into snorts of laughter that trickle in from the tiny living room. Aran throws his head back, drink nearly spilling out of his cup. Ginjima laughs so loud you see Omiomi cover his ears and Suna holds his phone up, filming every second of Atsumu’s defeat. 

Osamu opens his mouth as if to ask you something.

“C’mon! Yer killin’ me, Kita-san!” Atsumu yells, socked feet and waving arms trying to match the onscreen character’s movements.

Kita, on the other hand, is scoring perfect marks without as much effort wasted. You giggle to yourself as he moves his hips, shaking them here and there. A small smile quirks his lips upwards as he finishes with a flawless ending move on ‘Ice Cream’, the Just Dance characters fading into oblivion on the screen. Atsumu crumbles to the floor in defeat. 

Osamu’s lips form a straight line as he watches you laugh along, raising a hand to cover your mouth. He curses Atsumu’s birth and swallows back his embarrassment.

“Did ya see that, Osamu? Oh- Kita-san is so good at everything!” you gush.

“Atsumu just sucks.”

When you laugh, Osamu thinks something in his chest lurches. Regret makes his head go foggy and leaves a sour taste in his mouth.

3. Place cling wrap over a rice bowl. Place some of the cooked rice over the centre of the cling wrap and make a well.

“No way ya got a love letter!” Atsumu yelled.

“Ya get yer fair share. We share t’same face, why shouldn’t I get some?” Osamu retorted, rolling his eyes. 

Suna watched as the twins began to gripe and argue about who was the better looking sibling again. Nothing unusual, really, given how this occurred every odd day of the week.

“S’gotta be a prank. No way someone likes a loser like you,” Suna mused.

In retaliation, Osamu threw him a stink eye. “You two are just jealous,” he sniffed.

The letter had been written on pretty pink paper, all hearts and cute handwriting as his secret admirer asked him to meet them on the roof after school. Not that Osamu wasn’t affected by it, of course. It always rubbed his ego the right way to know that someone preferred him over Atsumu. Though, it wasn’t like he was interested in anyone then. It only took a second before Osamu ripped the letter in half.

“Woah woah woah! Yer crazy! Whatcha gonna do if some pretty girl gave that to ya?” 

Atsumu’s eyes widened in shock, almost reaching forward to grab the shreds of letter that Osamu had torn up. 

“Does it matter? S’not like I’m interested in datin’ right now,” he replied.

“Seriously? What if she’s like, super duper hot!”

Osamu’s face screwed up. “Are ya a horndog?”

Just as Atsumu was about to shout at his dear brother again, you opened the door to their classroom and hurried in. You had a bento box in hand and a cute pout on your face as you placed it on Suna’s table.

“Rin! You forgot your bento at home again!” 

“Oh.” Suna blinked. “Thanks.”

“Seriously, you gotta stop forgetting your things! I can’t be bringing them to you all the time-”

“Hey, Suna.” Atsumu perked up, referring to you. “Would ya go on a date with Samu or me? Me, right? Definitely me!”

Your face flushed with heat. “Huh? What are you talking about?”

“‘Samu got a love letter in his shoe locker this morning. Cliche, huh?” your brother said between bites of his lunch. 

“Mm, yeah. Cliche,” you mumbled. 

You looked around anxiously for any sign of the love letter. Was it in Osamu’s bag? 

“Can ya believe he tore it up?” Atsumu laughed.

“What?”

Your heart felt like a stone in your chest as you froze, your blood running cold. 

“Yeah! This dumbass doesn’t know how t’appreciate anythin’,” he replied, smacking Osamu on the back of his head.

His twin responded with a muffled growl as he continued to scarf down his absurdly large bento. You fiddled with the cuffs of your sleeves, staring down at your feet. You were quick to bid the third years goodbye as you fled their classroom as an inexplicable ache spread through your chest. 

You didn’t focus on your classes for the rest of the day. The fact that Osamu had torn your love letter, written with all your heart and soul as you crumpled draft after draft last night, tipped you over the edge of your fantasies and had you plummeting straight into reality. 

“Oi.”

You looked up from your feet, glancing up at Suna. The both of you were swapping your indoor shoes for outdoor ones, but you had absentmindedly stopped in the middle of slipping your right foot into a shoe. It was nearing the time where they closed the school gates, so there weren’t many students around save for the odd volleyball club member.

“What’re you doing? Put your shoes on properly,” he huffed.

“Sorry,” you said quietly, and slammed the locker door shut once you were done.

You walked a few feet ahead of Suna as you approached the school gate. Your head drooped with each step, tears beginning to mist your eyes. You willed yourself to hold it in till you got home, till you were in the safety of your bedroom to start sobbing your little heart out. Suna tugged on your wrist.

“Are you crying?” he questioned.  

You shook your head quickly, rubbing your eyes with the back of your sleeve.

“Oi. Answer me.”

This time, his voice was a little softer, yet held a mixture of irritation and anger behind a crumbling wall of apathy. Who had been the one to make you cry? 

“It’s nothin’,” you choked out. “Let’s just go home.”

You turned your face to the side as tears continued to roll down your cheeks, muffled cries turning into heartbroken sobs. Something inside of Suna’s head clicked. 

“It’s Miya Osamu, isn’t it?” 

You had to bite on your lower lip to stop it from trembling.

“That bastard tore up your letter, didn’t he?”

You gave Suna the tiniest of nods. He let go of your wrist and whipped around, eyebrows furrowed together. Not wanting to date was one thing, but treating your confession like dog shit was something else. Fortunately for him, the Miya twins were changing their shoes in the getabako.

“‘Samu!” Suna yelled.

The gray haired male looked up with a face of confusion.

“Suna? Whaddya want-” Osamu wasn’t able to say anything more as Suna’s fist collided with his face.

Atsumu jumped back with a yelp as the both of them crashed to the ground. Your hands flew to cover your mouth.

“Rin! Stop it!” you cried out.

You dashed over, tripping over your own feet as you tried to pull Suna away from Osamu as they traded blows. It took the work of you, Atsumu and Ginjima (who had been unlucky enough to pass by) to tear the two apart, and even then Osamu was still struggling in his brother’s arms to be let go.

“What t’hell, man!” he snarled. 

Suna wiped his nose, glancing briefly at the crimson that stained his school uniform. The adrenaline was beginning to run low and pain began to settle into his fists and ribs. His shoulders heaved with each breath, and your hands clutched his shirt.

“Rin. No more, please,” you begged, pressing your forehead against his back. “No more.”

Suna hated the way your voice trembled as you spoke. He didn’t think it was fair for you to bear the burden of pain while Osamu got to walk away unscathed, leaving you broken in pieces. His fist curled up again.

“It’s not worth it, Rin.”

Suna took in a shaky, deep breath.

You were right.

Miya Osamu wasn’t worth it. 

4. Put about 1tbsp of the filling of your choice on the centre of the rice and cover it with rice.

A week comes and goes after the annual Inarizaki reunion. You’re still finding sticky stains on the floor, as well as food wrappers tossed behind the sofa. Suna sends the group chat a video of you yelling at all of them while wielding a mop with so much fervour Aran asks if you broke it. Atsumu actually apologises and Osamu offers to come over and help clean up. The entire group chat flames him immediately.

As per last week, you walk into Osamu’s cooking class at 2p.m. on a Wednesday afternoon. It’s hot outside, droplets of perspiration rolling down your nape. The cool air-conditioning of the classroom is much appreciated and you don your apron behind the gaggle of housewives. You catch snippets of their conversation as they put their items in the cubbies provided. 

“Tanaka-san, did you see the mushrooms that were on sale this Monday?”

“My son is attending this cram school this summer. Here’s the address!”

“My father-in-law keeps complaining about the heat…”

“Good afternoon, everyone.”

“Miya-san!”

Everyone perks up when Osamu walks through the door. They’re quick to surround him, asking how his day had been. You look tired, take this ginseng drink! It really revitalises your spirits! Did you get a girlfriend yet, Miya-san? My daughter is single, you know! 

You watch as Osamu walks behind his bench, all smiles and “Is that so, Shigeru-san?”. Polite enough to please them, but not enough to make them think that he actually wants to go on a date with their 34 year-old daughter who’s a tired office worker looking out for potential husbands like a hawk. He lets out a heavy exhale, using his cap with the Onigiri Miya logo on it to fan himself.

“Hot today, isn’t it?” he chuckles.

You think that maybe he’s the one that’s making this summer so warm, especially with the way that his shirt clings to his figure and his flushed cheeks that make him look adorable. 

Wait.

You do a double take. Ah, adorable. You must have meant that heart-print apron that Tanaka is wearing today. It is pretty cute, and you wonder if you should ask her where she got it from later on. Definitely not Osamu with his perfect smile that would make anyone’s heart skip a beat, and definitely not when it’s directed at you.

“Gather around everyone! We’re going to be making gyoza today!”

The demonstration goes as usual — Osamu impresses the housewives, they gasp and someone even touches his forearm and asks “How did you get so strong, Miya-san?”. Not that you care, of course. You certainly don’t. What you’re more concerned about is how Osamu manages to make wrapping the fragile gyoza seem so easy. 

Your fingers pinch at the thick dough, eyebrows furrowed together. No matter what you do, your filling keeps spilling out of the wrapper and so you’ve opted to try out for a thicker piece this time. Not that it really matters — Suna will be the one suffering from food poisoning if it turns out bad, anyways.

“Ah, yer made it too thick,” Osamu says as he strolls over. 

You tense up as he leans over your shoulder, peeking at the chubby gyoza in your hands. You pretend not be affected by how close he is and continue pinching the wings of the dumpling shut.

“They keep bursting,” you sniff. 

“Maybe ya put t’much filling?” Osamu suggests. “Here, lemme show ya. Put tha’ one down and grab a new wrapper. Yeah, just like that.”

You stiffen as Osamu flours his hands and cradles your hands in his. 

“Here ya go. That’s t’much, scoop out some more. That’s it. Now gently…”

Blood rushes to your face as you feel the warmth of his skin seep into yours, his hands rough from years of training and cooking. Scars adorn the tips of his thick fingers and knuckles. You suddenly feel the urge to gently trace them with your thumb, to ask him how he got each one of them. 

Would he let you? Let you so close, that perhaps you would be the one to know every single thing about him?

“You did it!” Osamu says cheerfully. 

He suddenly pulls away, making you plummet back to reality. A perfectly made gyoza sits in your hands.

“I’m looking forward to tasting your gyoza later on. Now keep trying!” 

You’re left dumbfounded as Osamu walks away to help out the other housewives. They stammer and blush when they get too close, but he never holds their hands in his own, never smiles as gently as he does with you.

You place the gyoza on a pan and put the lid on with a little bit more force than what is necessary.

5. Wrap the cling wrap over the rice and squeeze and mould it into a triangle shape with your hands.

You try not to make contact with Osamu after that. Attending his cooking classes becomes a game of cat-and-mouse, where you try to tell him ‘I don’t need any help, Miya-san’ and watch him crawl away in defeat. In fact, you decide to skip the lesson on making hamburgs and instead spend the afternoon watching television.

After all, from what you’ve learnt in the past, Osamu is nothing more than trouble. You think it’s worth the sacrifice now to put some space between the both of you so that you don’t end up heartbroken a second time. 

Though, you do feel a little bad. Just a little bit. One day when Suna’s out at training, you hear the doorbell ring and Osamu’s voice ring through the genkan. You hear his feet shuffle by the door and a heavy thump outside before he leaves. You only open the door when you hear his car pull out of the apartment building’s carpark, and find a packed bento lunch for you in front.

You try to pretend that the bunny cut apples and sakura shaped carrot slices don’t mean anything.

“Ah, Suna-san! Where were you last week?” Tachibana titters as you step into class for the final lesson.

“I wasn’t feeling very well,” you lie. “I think I caught a summer cold.”

“Oh dear, that sounds terrible!” the ladies chorus together. 

You think they’re probably just glad that you didn’t get in the way of their beloved Miya-san. You tug your apron over your head, and ignore Osamu when he greets everyone. His eyes linger on you for a little too long during the demonstration — to the point that he actually burns the skin side of his salmon fillet.

Osamu skirts around your bench like a nervous puppy when the demonstration is over. You don’t seem particularly keen about talking to him, though the tips of your finger tremble when he finally plucks up the courage to stand next to you. It’s not close enough for your elbows to touch, but close enough that he can whisper to you without anyone else hearing him.

“Hey,” he begins, uncertain. His voice wavers slightly.

“Hey,” you reply, wary of what he might say. 

“Are you okay?”

You take a moment to think, tipping the sake bottle carefully to measure out an exact tablespoon of it. He wonders when your hands have seemed so delicate, so small. He aches to hold them in his own again. 

“I’m okay.”

“That’s good.”

It’s quiet, again. Just like that night in Suna’s apartment, with all the noise of the reunion going on around you, except this time it's the clanging of pans and utensils, paired with the chatter of many ladies. 

“I was thinking…” Osamu stares down at your hands, turning the measuring spoon over so that sake splashes onto the hot pan with a sizzle. “Maybe we could get a drink together after this?”

You cover the pan and watch its surface cloud up with condensation. You hide your shaking hands by digging them into the pockets of your apron. 

Osamu swallows. Perhaps he had been too direct with you; scared you off with how quickly he was advancing. Or did Suna tell you to be careful of him? That he didn’t want you falling in love with him a second time? There’s no lie about it, that Osamu had been a grade A asshole back in high school.

But he loves you now; has loved you since then. Would you be willing to give him a second chance?

“Osamu,” you breathe.

His shoulders relax slightly when you don’t call him by his last name. 

“I don’t know what to do.” 

Your voice comes out timid, scared. Osamu’s heart crumbles at the edges. He wonders if you would hate him if he reached out and took your hands in his once more. You’re both adults, perfectly capable of rational thinking if only your hearts hadn’t gotten in the way. Love hurts, they said. You want to agree. 

“We can start it out slow,” Osamu suggests.

“I’m supposed to start my new job next month. I won't be in Nagano for much longer.”

“I’m opening a branch in Tokyo.”

“I’ll be busy settling down. We might not get to see each other often enough.”

“A little is better than nothin’.”

“You’re my brother’s friend.”

“Now, yer just picking at nothing, babe. Didn’t you have a crush on me back in high school, too? That didn’t stop ya, did it?”

Your heart wrestles with your brain, insisting on comfort and that love will always come in the form of someone that isn’t Miya Osamu. You’ll find someone, but will they be better? Will they send food to your doorstep, or send you stupid photos of dogs he saw on the street? Will they chase after you relentlessly for years, will they be Osamu?

A lump forms in your throat and you wonder if this, has been, is love. You tear your heart out from within you and let it cling to your sleeve, as pathetic and scared it is. You don’t mind if it hurts. To never hurt is to never have lived, to never have loved. 

By this point, your eyes have misted up with tears and it hits you- You’re about to cry about your crush in the middle of a cooking class attended by middle-aged ladies. You’ve never been more embarrassed. 

“Really?” you whisper, looking up at Osamu with glittering eyes. 

He ignores the “Miya-san! I need your help!” that rings out in the background. He smiles gently.

“Yeah, really.”

A tear slips down your face. Osamu lets out a breathy chuckle as he swipes it away with his thumb, giving your shoulder a squeeze.

“We’ll talk properly after this, alright?” 

You nod numbly. You watch as he hurries off to Shigeru, gasping when he sees how she had completely butchered her fillet. He turns back to you, trying to hold in a snigger. 

You giggle.

Osamu thinks he wants to hear that laugh forever.

6. Remove the cling wrap and cover the bottom of the rice triangle with a nori sheet and set aside.

“One extra large bonito onigiri with spring onions!” you cry out from the counter.

Back in the kitchen, Osamu and another part-time worker scoop steaming rice out of large vats and use their hands to mould them into perfectly shaped triangles. A scoop of filling goes in and a strip of seaweed is wrapped hastily around the onigiri before it's sent to you to package. You place the onigiri carefully into a box and slip it into a paper bag with the shop’s logo on the front for a take-away order. 

The shop is filled with customers even on a Wednesday afternoon. The clock shows 2p.m., past lunch time, yet you can see a queue that snakes out of the shop and down the alleyway. 

Another long day ahead, you think to yourself. 

“It’s our turn!” a little girl squeals as she takes the bag from you, opening it up to peer at the huge onigiri inside. “Mama! ‘giri!” 

Her mother laughs and pats her head. “Don’t forget to say thank you, Haru.”

The girl turns to you, eyes sparkling. “‘Fank you, Miya-shan!” 

A cheery grin almost splits your face in half. Miya-san. Four years on and it still makes your stomach flip whenever you hear that Osamu’s last name has become yours. It was an easy decision for the both of you to get married, really. You had loved each other for years and all you wanted to do in the end was to spend the rest of your lives together.

You quit your office job just before you got married to help Osamu out with the new Onigiri Miya branches. It took some getting used to, but the familiar customers and bright smiles that you see just by serving onigiri each day makes it worth it. It’s tough work, no doubt. But doing what you enjoy with the man you love is more rewarding than it ever could be.

Though, it’s not like your relationship has always been smooth sailing. There are days when you bicker over something stupid (like how you always forget to close the lid of the rice cooker), or when Osamu insists that he isn’t overworking himself (although his eyebags tell otherwise). But love’s a recipe with a few secret ingredients, and you’ve come to master it over the years. 

“Come back soon!”

The shop is filled with the fragrant scent of freshly cooked rice and bonito flakes being stir-fried into furikake. Customers perch on tiny stools as they scarf down onigiri of different shapes and sizes, licking their fingers clean. A plush toy of Onigiri Miya’s mascot sits on the counter next to a potted plant that Atsumu bought (which is surprisingly still alive).

A photograph of the third Tokyo branch’s grand opening hangs on the wall. You and Osamu hold up a bouquet of flowers, smiling toothily at the camera, your wedding rings glinting in the sunlight. 

“One medium onigiri with tuna mayo, coming right up!”

You jump as Osamu shouts out the order suddenly and you nearly drop the onigiri that he hands to you.

“Woah, careful there,” he chuckles, a hand ghosting the small of your back.

“You have ‘ta stop scaring me, ‘Samu,” you huff and roll your eyes playfully.

Osamu grins at you and the edges of his eyes crinkle up. You place the onigiri safely into its packaging and place it on the counter for a customer to collect, before turning back to plant a kiss on his cheek. Osamu’s face flushes pink and he hurries away, mumbling something about bonito flakes.

Your heart soars in your chest.

Yeah, it has been, will be, worth it. 

7. Repeat the same steps as above to use the rest of the rice with other fillings that you prepared.

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