#it will arrive anywhere between the next two business days and never

[intrikatie]

The Game...

Hyunjin x Reader

🔞Minors DNI

For my love @skzdreamer13 & my darling @neverendingstay ♡ One Day ♡

✰ Pairing: Secret Boyfriend Hyunjin x Fem Reader ✰ Genre: SMUT with a bit of fluff at the end ✰ Info: MxF, FxM, Unprotected Sex, longing and desire

Word count: 3000

It’s your favourite game.

A game no one knows you play.

Not the fans. Not the press. Not even the ones closest to him.

They’re all a part of it, without realising.

No one knows.

Except your boyfriend.

You don’t have to check your phone. You already know what the message will say.

But you check anyway.

Him: Here

Just a single word. No punctuation, no flourish. But you can feel the weight behind it, the restraint wrapped in familiarity.

You don’t reply. You never do. That’s part of the game, too.

From your spot in the foyer, you watch as the convoy halts outside, dark-tinted doors swinging open one by one. The air shifts. People straighten. A hushed excitement weaves through the space, palpable even in its silence.

The members move in quickly, seamlessly. A well-practiced routine. Hoodies up, caps low. The perfect blend of noticeable and unnoticeable.

One of them—Chan—glances your way. Just for a second. A flicker of curiosity, something bordering on recognition. But then he’s gone, moving past you without a second look, laptop bag in tow.

Hyunjin is the last to enter.

He doesn’t hesitate. Doesn’t falter. Doesn’t even pretend to look. But his body moves with a kind of precision—an extra slowness, an awareness only you can read.

And that’s enough.

That’s all you need.

You already want him. Crave him. The cool bite of ice water lingers on your tongue as you sip, watching him over the rim of your glass. Your thighs press together, restless.

He looks divine.

The sharp lines of his buzzcut, blonde and gleaming like gold under the lobby lights. No one knows you were there when he took the clippers to it. When he stood in front of the mirror, jaw tight, eyes locked on yours in the reflection.

A moment of impulse. Of need. Of want.

God, he fucked you hard that night.

You set your glass down on the table in front of you. Smooth. Unhurried.

Then, without looking up, you return to your book.

This part of the game requires patience. A technique you’ve mastered. One Hyunjin still struggles with.

Your phone buzzes.

Again. And again. And again.

Him: fuck. You look so good.

Him: room number. Now.

Him: don’t make me wait, baby.

You don’t reply. You don’t need to.

Instead, you return to your quiet observation.

You’ve been here for two days, watching from a distance as the hotel shifted around them. Staff busied themselves, preparing. Shutting off floors. Pulling in extra security before Stray Kids’ own team arrived.

Then came the luggage. Then the staff.

And even now, the arrivals haven’t stopped.

Because Stray Kids being here doesn’t mean the world slows down.

If anything, it moves faster now.

Staff hurry to finalise details, voices hushed but urgent. A last-minute check at the front desk with the head manager and their assistant—were all the key cards collected? Were there any last-minute changes to the room requirements?

A quiet word exchanged between security—the hotel’s and the team assigned specifically to Stray Kids. Someone rushes past with a clipboard, disappearing toward the kitchens.

Your phone buzzes again.

Him: don’t make me come and find you.

You close your book and stand, making your way to the elevator.

You don’t rush. There’s no need.

Hyunjin isn’t going anywhere. He’ll be tied up for at least another hour—luggage to sort, schedules to adjust, managers to appease.

And besides, you’re under the same roof now.

The elevator doors glide open, and you step inside, pressing the button for your floor. The ride is smooth, silent, giving you a moment to settle into the next phase of the game.

Your room is just as you left it. The curtains drawn, the air cool, the scent of your perfume lingering from earlier. You slip off your shoes, padding across the plush carpet as you set your book down on the bedside table.

Hyunjin isn’t the only one who needs patience.

You take your time.

A slow stretch, rolling out the tension from sitting so long downstairs. A glance in the mirror. You already look good, but you could look better.

You undress. A deliberate choice. You dig through your suitcase, fingers trailing over lace, silk, the softest things you own.

Something easy to slip on. Something even easier to take off. You opt for a silk and lace camisole with matching underwear. The perfect amount of tease.

Your phone buzzes again.

Him: baby

You smile, reaching for your lip gloss.

Let him wait. Not too long, just a little longer.

You take your time finishing up. A spritz of perfume at your pulse points, the faintest shimmer catching on your collarbones under the soft glow of the room’s lighting.

Your phone buzzes again. And again.

You don’t check it. You already know the pleas.

Hyunjin is impatient. Maybe a little desperate. All the better.

You slip on a pair of heels— because you know he likes them. Likes the way they change your posture, the way they sound against the floor when you walk toward him.

You sit on the edge of the bed and send the room number. Then, you set your phone down and wait. How he gets to you, alone, without raising eyebrows. That’s on him. That’s his game to play.

You wait.

Not long.

A few minutes, maybe. Just enough to let the anticipation build.

And then—

A knock at the door.

Firm. Measured.

Not rushed, not frantic, but there’s an edge to it. A warning.

You smile.

Finally.

You wait, trying to steady your heartrate which spikes at the sound. You exhale slowly as you pull the door open.

Hyunjin stands before you, his usual polished look swapped for something more casual—sweats, a loose hoodie, and the same lazy confidence he wears like a second skin. His excuse is obvious, and you can already guess what’s coming: “Just escaping to the gym for a bit,” his voice low and teasing.

You raise an eyebrow, the corners of your mouth tugging upward.

I’ll be sure to give you a workout, you think to yourself, a silent challenge hanging in the air.

You don’t speak. You don’t need to. His eyes gleam, scanning you for only a moment before his lips twitch into a knowing smile, dragging his full bottom lip through his teeth. The tension thickens.

His gaze flickers down to your lips, then back up to your eyes. The silent exchange crackles, a thousand unsaid things hanging between you.

And then, before you can even manage a greeting, his body surges forward. His hands wrap around you with a force that makes you gasp as he presses you against the wall.

His lips are on yours before you can catch your breath. He kicks your room door closed, the sound a signal you are finally alone. Alone and together.

His kiss is urgent, almost desperate, with the pressure of his body against yours leaving no space between you. It’s everything you’ve been waiting for—the tension breaking, the silence snapping, his familiar heat flooding you.

You melt into him, the world outside that door fading away completely as he presses you back against the wall, his lips devouring yours with a hunger that makes your pulse race. You don’t need words right now. His actions speak louder than anything you could say.

The waiting game? It’s over.

Now, it’s just him.

His hands are everywhere, roaming over you with a sense of urgency, as if he’s been starving for this just as much as you. You gasp against his mouth as his fingers slide under the hem of your camisole, his touch hot against your skin, sending sparks of electricity through your body.

The kiss deepens, his lips, his tongue, demanding, but still soft, as though savouring the moment while devouring it at the same time. You can feel the tension in him, the way his body is wound tight with need, but there's also a careful precision to his movements. He wants this, wants you, but he wants to control it too, holding back just enough to make you crave more.

Your fingers move to his hoodie, tugging it up, desperate to feel more of him. His lips trail down your jawline, his breath hot against your skin, and you shiver in anticipation. He pulls back just a fraction, eyes dark, intense, a warning in them. A promise.

"Patience," he whispers, his voice low and rough, as if he’s barely holding on himself. As though he hasn’t been the one pleading with you for the past hour and a half.

You can’t help the smirk that curves on your lips. "You first."

Without another word, he lifts you effortlessly, his strength surprising and familiar all at once, before pressing you back against the bed. His lips return to yours in a searing kiss, and you can feel the control slipping away, his body moving over yours in perfect sync with your own mounting desire.

His lips leave yours, a soft, breathless sigh escaping him as his eyes lock onto yours—dark, hungry, desperate. You don’t give him a chance to regain control.

With a swift motion, your hands find the hem of his hoodie, fingers digging into the fabric. You yank it over his head without hesitation, the action rough and urgent, matching the pounding of your heart.

His breath catches, but it only fuels the fire between you. His gaze flickers down to your hands, then back to your face, as if in disbelief, but there’s no time for hesitation now.

Your fingers are already on his sweats, pushing them down, exposing his skin, inch by inch. His body tenses under your touch, muscles rippling as he steps back slightly to kick them off. You catch sight of his hard and glistening length and your walls clench in anticipation. Fuck. You need him. You need him now. You’re already there, pulling him closer, not giving him a moment to breathe.

He groans, a low, throaty sound that sends a thrill through you, as his hands move to your waist, pulling you closer with an urgency that mirrors your own. There’s no soft teasing anymore, no buildup. Just pure, raw desire.

You meet him halfway, your hands roaming over his chest, the feel of his heartbeat matching your own. You can’t get enough of him. His skin, the way his body moves beneath your fingertips, how it feels to have him so close.

Your lips crash against his again, this time harder, more desperate, both of you hungry for the contact, the intimacy. Every kiss feels like it could consume you whole. He groans again, his hands leaving your waist to work on the straps of your camisole. The fabric falls away, and you can see the hunger in his eyes as he looks at you, and you know—this is it.

He lowers his head, mouth tracing the contours of your breasts before his tongue swirls over your sensitive buds. Finally his hands move lower, stripping you of your underwear. Your heels. Until you are finally bare beneath him.

He pulls back slightly, settling on his knees, his gaze sweeping over you—slow, deliberate, reverent. His eyes trace every curve, every contour, as his fingers ghost over the paths he’s already memorized, mapping you like sacred ground. Each touch is featherlight, almost worshipful, like a brushstroke against your skin. A shiver runs through you.

What does he see?

What kind of picture is he painting with his hands?

You can’t take the distance, not with the way he looks at you, like he’s trying to commit you to memory. You pull him closer, feeling the firm planes of his body against yours, the heat of him branding into your skin. His length glides through your folds, teasing, torturous, and you sigh as you slide your fingers over the short buzz of his hair, smooth forward, rough back. Like golden velvet against your palm.

Fucking intoxicating.

“Hyun,” you breathe, raising your hips, desperate for him.

His lips find your throat, tongue flicking against your pulse, and his breath is hot as he whispers, “You ready for me, baby?”

“Always.”

A quiet curse slips from his lips as he sinks into you. The stretch is familiar, but no less breathtaking, no less consuming. His fingers flex against your hips, as if he’s trying to hold back, even now. He shudders slightly, forehead pressing to yours, his chest rising and falling in staggered breaths.

Your noses brush, your breaths mingle. It’s quiet, intimate. Every movement, every shift, feels like a silent promise.

You roll your hips, urging him to move, and he obeys without hesitation. The rhythm between you is instinctive, second nature, but tonight, it carries more weight, like the space between you—every second spent apart—shrinks with each thrust.

His fingers weave through yours, grip tightening. Holding you, grounding you. His eyes meet yours, dark with desire but softened by something deeper. Unspoken, but there.

He moves within you like he’s trying to carve his name into your body, like he can’t get close enough, deep enough. His chest presses against yours, skin to skin, sweat-slicked and burning.

“God, you’re so perfect,” he rasps, voice rough.

His pace is steady, deliberate, dragging pleasure from you with each slow roll of his hips. The heat of him surrounds you, his scent flooding your senses. Every thrust feels like a slow burn, and you let it consume you, let him consume you.

You reach up, fingertips brushing his jaw, and his eyes flicker closed for a moment before they open again—seeing you clearer, deeper, like he’s looking straight through to your soul.

You’re the only one who gets to see him like this.

You’re the only one.

Your knee lifts to his hip, and he moves instinctively, rolling with you, his hand flattening against the small of your back as he shifts you both. He settles beneath you, his thighs firm beneath yours, his heart beat thundering against your palms and you gasp at the new depth as you sink down onto him.

His hands find your waist, your hips, then lower, gripping your ass as he helps you move. You rock against him, pace unhurried but purposeful, each movement drawing out the pleasure, intensifying it.

A deep groan rumbles through his chest as he tilts his head back, lips parted, eyes heavy-lidded as he watches you. Watches the way you take him, the way you move for him.

“Fuck, baby…” he hisses, pressing you down harder, pulling you deeper.

Your thighs burn, but the pleasure is too much, too consuming to care. You chase more, more, more.

“Sound so pretty, baby,” he murmurs, his voice frayed at the edges. “Feel so fucking good.”

Encouraged by his words, you pick up the pace, grinding down, gasping as the friction sends you hurtling closer to the edge. His hands roam over you—your waist, your thighs, up your spine—before gripping you tighter, guiding you, coaxing you toward that breaking point.

“Look at me,” he demands, voice thick, raw.

Your eyes snap to his, and the moment they lock, it’s over.

Pleasure crashes over you in relentless waves, shattering you from the inside out. Your head tips back, a sharp cry breaking free as your body tightens around him, pulsing, trembling. He rises up, pressing his forehead to your chest, his breath ragged, lost in the way you come undone above him.

But he doesn’t stop. Doesn’t let you go.

He grinds you down onto him, thrusting up into you again, again, again—prolonging it, pulling more from you, until you’re gasping, your whole body quaking from the force of it.

Then his mouth is on yours, desperate and consuming, swallowing every sound as he thrusts one final time. A groan rumbles deep in his throat as he follows you over the edge, his grip tightening, body trembling beneath you as he spills inside you. The pleasure drags him under, pulling you down with him.

For a long moment, neither of you move. You just breathe. Tangled, spent, lost in the haze of each other. Your chests rise and fall in sync, pressed flush together, still feeling the echoes of what just was.

You trace the line of his collarbone bone, dragging the sweat that has gathered there.

As your breaths steady, Hyunjin’s fingers trail lazily up and down your spine, his touch featherlight, absentminded. You shift slightly, your lips grazing the damp skin of his throat, tasting the salt of his skin and he exhales, his arms tightening around you.

For a long moment, neither of you speak. The silence is easy, comfortable. But then, his voice comes, low and almost contemplative.

“One day,” he murmurs, “we won’t have to play the game.”

You still, absorbing the weight of his words. He doesn’t say it like a promise, doesn’t paint some unrealistic dream—just states it, quiet and certain, like he’s already imagined it.

Like he already knows.

Your fingers press lightly into his ribs, grounding yourself. “One day,” you echo, softer still.

Hyunjin’s lips brush your temple, the touch lingering, his breath warm against your skin. But then, the moment shifts—like he won’t let himself linger on the thought too long. Because one day isn't today. And it won't be tomorrow.

But it will happen.

One day.

A beat later, he sighs dramatically. “But until then…”

And just like that, he flips you onto your back, grinning as he settles over you, hands bracketing your waist. The sudden motion makes you gasp but before you can say anything, he smirks, voice dropping into something playful, teasing.

“You kept me waiting forever. Now, I think it’s only fair that you make it up to me.”

You giggle against his lips. “Everyone knows you don’t gym like the others. Someone will come looking for you.”

“Just part of the game, Y/N.” He murmurs trailing kisses over your jaw.

♡ If you made it this far, thank you so much for your support!

♡ please consider leaving a comment, like or reblog. I love hearing your thoughts!!

♡ ©2025Intrikatie

[asherthehimbo]

Homesick

pairing: traveling photographer! Hongjoong x local! reader

wordcount: 718

warnings: uhm, one or two suggestive sentences but like thats it, mentions of alcohol and going out drinking, ( gender of reader not specified but like involves cutesy texts so take that as you will)

notes: guys i love Mico sm and this song BEEEN stuck in my head so here you go. I AM busy working on Guardians and Bloody sunrise but this was a short little drabble I had since I've been suprisingly busy so its easier for me to write this format than full length chapters rn

Hongjoong is a traveling photographer, his habit of drifting from place to place quite literally in the job description, yet to him there's no place like home. He can never be away from home for more than a week, gets this bubbling anxiety in his stomach that twists in all the wrong ways. He likes home, he likes his own studio where he can secretly work on music without another person's judging ears, he likes his home built darkroom, refusing to develop the photos of his work, when needed physically, anywhere but there.

He's made quite the name for himself, ‘the photographer who gets bored of places easily’, while it may not be the truth, he lets people believe it because it's less embarrassing than the fact that in all honesty he just gets homesick. The title has people scrambling to employ him, thinking he's some sort of elitist artist if he deems himself better than a place after a few days, which isn't what happens, but watching his bosses for the contracts scramble to try and have him stay, to show why they're place is the best has its benefits.

Yet his favorite benefit of all has to be you, a local hired by the same company that hired him to help guide him through the town. He's spent four days with you already, his flight back home leaves tomorrow and while usually around this time he'd be missing home desperately, the thought of returning, of leaving this town, leaving you, hasn't crossed his mind once since he came here, since he met you, until you brought it up, “Wanne go out to celebrate your last night here?” your words were like a punch to the gut, a reminder that this wasn't home, that to you he was just a tourist, a man with a job, to you, he was your job.

He agreed, of course he did, anything that would have him spend more time with you. In all your drunk babelings, all your compliments and teasing flirting, never once did you ask him to stay. It was all his alcohol filled mind could think about, how the words might fall from your lips which he so desperately wanted to kiss. He wanted you to ask him to stay, to beg him to stay. He must've run though a thousand different scenarios on how you would, if it would be spur of the moment, right before he had to leave for the airport, if there would be actions or words leading up to it, if you'd ask pleadingly, or if you'd ask breathlessly between kisses- the last one was his favorite. Yet you didn't. The night dragged on, he crashed at your place, woke up the next morning to you smiling down at him who was sprawled out on your couch.

You drove him to the airport, you saw him off, not once did your smile leave your lips, not once did you show an inkling of want, of yearning, of needing him to stay the way he needed you too. He arrived home with your name still on his tongue, no- not home. Hongjoong stood in front of his house, but it did nothing to cure the homesickness, not when it only started the moment he had entered the plane gates, when you had disappeared from his sight.

“Hii Joong ₍ᐢ.ˬ.⑅ᐢ₎ lmk when you get home safe! I hope I made your time here enjoyable, if your ever back in town id be happy to show you around some more, get some rest much love (づ๑•ᴗ•๑)づ♡”

your text message was like a shock to his system, on one hand he had your number, you'd willingly reached out to him ever after you were done, you'd checked up on him, it made his heart race. On the other hand, it was formal, it was an invitation to use you as a guide again, not a friend, nor something more, the message was a formality, one probably sent to all your clients, that made his stomach drop.

It didn't matter, he’d make sure he was back in your hometown, he'd make sure to see you again, he'd make sure to make you his. He didn't get this good at his job by giving up.

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copyright | 2025 | @asherthehimbo

[thevoicefromanotherworld]

Hiii im back🙈👀 I was wondering if I could get another chibs fic🤣🙈 im a told chibs slut🤣🤣😍😍😏 I was thinking all day what if reader and chibs are like friends with benefits and shes Gemmas assistant or a fill in Gemma when shes not there and chibs plays it cool but you guys recently started hooking up and no one knows and she goes home to her place and chibs is already there and she didn't knoe and they start making out and being all cuddly and and gettinf things going anf then the new prospect (who can't take a hint that you don't like him bc hes too cocky) starts knocking and she answers and hes flirting and shes jusr like " im busy i havr tk go" and he keeps talking anf chibs walks up and just stares at him and nods for him to go👀😫😫😫😍😍😍 idk just something I've thought about all day😫😫😫🤣🤣🤣

Another amazing request, indeed! thank you for sending it to me! again, I tried my best to sum all the information up and wrote the fic asap

I hope you like it! 😊☝🖤

WARNING: EXPLICIT SMUT UNDER THE CUT

"COME HERE, SWEETHEART"

Gemma had hired you to manage the TM's accounts.

Since she spent a lot of time looking after the children while Tara was at St. Thomas's, she'd left the money-related tasks to you, such as collections, payments, and other transactions involving money.

You were organizing the stacks of bills in the safe when you saw someone parking a Harley in its designated spot out of the corner of your eye.

The driver got out of the vehicle and headed towards you as soon as he saw you.

You raised your head to bump into the figure of Chibs.

You and the Scotsman had a somewhat peculiar relationship.

The first day you came to work at the shop, Gemma introduced you to the guys, and since then, he hadn't been able to take his eyes off you.

At first, he was very nice to you.

He helped you with anything you needed and was always making sure you didn't lack anything.

As the weeks went by, this all became more complicated, until you were finally doing it anywhere, on any surface.

From the first time he tried you, Chibs needed you near him all the time, as if you were a drug for which there was no cure.

Several times, when he saw you finishing up with a client who was leaving, he would nod at you to the chapel to come when you were finished, using the excuse that he had to talk, which wasn't true.

In the end, you were both exhausted, sweating, and having serious trouble hiding what had happened from your children.

No one knew about your encounters.

Jax knew there was something going on between you because of the intense glances Chibs gave you from time to time, but he never said anything.

He assumed it was something that belonged to the two of you, and that he had no business getting involved.

That day, you had agreed to meet at your house after work.

Sometimes you two would do that: he'd leave first on his motorcycle, and you'd wait ten minutes and follow in your car.

When you arrived and parked your car next to the house, your hands were itching from how nervous you were.

You gripped the doorknob and pushed it open.

Chibs was already there, just as you'd agreed, both arms resting on the sides of the couch and a lopsided smile on his lips.

"Oh, sweetheart," he whispered. "You don't know how much I've missed you today." He murmured, motioning with his index finger for you to come closer. "Come here."

You obeyed and stood in front of him.

He looked at you for a few moments, as if you were the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen, before placing his hands on your hips and guiding you down so you were sitting on his lap.

A gasp escaped your lips when you felt him against your most sensitive area, despite the pants you were wearing.

"Do you feel it, love?" he whispered, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. "I've been hard all day because of you," he growled, making you nervously shift on top of him. "These pants…" he murmured, running his hands over them. "Where did you get them?"

"Do you like them?" you asked timidly. "I bought them when Gemma gave me my first paycheck." You smiled. "I always said that as soon as I had money, I would buy them."

"I love how they look on you," he affirmed, playing with the zipper of the garment. "But I think they would look prettier on the floor." He smiled, giving me a mischievous smile. "What do you say, princess?"

"I'd say I agree with you," you murmured, mimicking his gesture.

The Scotsman leaned in to kiss you, his mouth, as always, moving eagerly over yours, as if no matter how many times he'd kissed you, he always needed more.

You brought your hands to either side of his face to deepen the kiss, causing you both to gasp into each other's mouths.

Chibs tugged at your lower lip between his teeth, causing you to let out a moan that was quickly replaced by a groan as he began to pull down your pants.

And at that moment, there was a knock at the door.

An exasperated grunt escaped Chibs's lips, and he gave you one last kiss before resting his forehead against yours.

"Fuck, this has got to be a fucking joke," he complained, causing you to give an amused smile. "Are you expecting someone?"

"No, just you," you smiled before getting up from her lap and combing your hair a little with your fingers. "I'll go see who it is, I won't be long," you promised, heading for the door.

When you opened it, you didn't expect to find the person standing there.

The new prospect of the sons watched you closely for a few moments.

Ever since you started working for Gemma, you'd noticed how his eyes followed you around the workshop, and how he always seemed to be doing anything to get your attention.

You weren't sure if he liked you or if he was just one of those people you talk to and seem to be flirting with you all the time, even if he didn't mean to.

You watched him from above, just like he had, before speaking.

"What are you doing here?" you asked politely.

"I saw you leave the TM faster than usual," he explained. "I just wanted to make sure you got home safely, and that no one had kidnapped you, you know," he whispered, winking at you.

"Very funny, prospect," you murmured, crossing your arms over your chest. "Well, as you can see, I got home in one piece, so…"

"Yeah, right," he whispered. "You look beautiful tonight," he blurted out. "Well, actually, you always do."

At that instant, you felt Chibs' presence behind you.

He leaned against the doorframe beside you, staring at the rookie, and he did the same.

He didn't need to say anything; with a simple nod, the boy understood it was time to go.

Without a word, he hopped on his motorcycle and disappeared down the road as quickly as he'd arrived.

"There was no need to scare the poor kid," you said, laughing as you closed the door.

"That 'poor kid,' as you call him, interrupted the moment I was having with my girl," he whispered, placing his hands on your waist to pull you back towards him. "Nobody does that"

[siilvan]

sun showers

characters: kyle "gaz" garrick

summary: gaz warms you up after you get caught in the rain.

prompts: 2. "do i make you nervous?"

genre: fluff, very light angst, roommate!gaz, fem!reader (no desc.)

warnings: semi-proofread, light cursing, brief references to canon-typical violence, like one innuendo at the end lol

word count: 1.5k

note: learned about gazfest and proceeded to speed-write a drabble-fic to celebrate :) big shoutout to @glitterypirateduck for curating this!

wrote half of this in one day and the other half the next. the quality drop is very obvious lol. i promise i've got better gaz fics planned for the future </3

"y'look like you just went swimming."

you slam the front door behind you, dropping your bag on the floor unceremoniously as you glare daggers at your roommate. kyle is lounging on the sofa, hot cup of tea in hand, sending you an amused look after tearing his eyes from the television.

"there wasn't any rain in the forecast today," you grumble in response, kicking off your sopping wet boots. you can see kyle set his mug on the table and rise from his spot, casually strolling into the small kitchen you shared. you figure he's going to grab a snack for himself and ignore him before trudging to your room to change clothes.

when you emerge again, in dry clothes and with a slightly better attitude, you're immediately greeted by your designated mug sitting on the countertop, filled nearly to the brim with steaming tea. you glance over and see kyle standing at another counter, busying himself with building a small plate of snacks, quietly humming a random showtune under his breath.

you carefully pick up the cup and take a sip, a comfortable warmth flowing through you, chasing away the bone-deep cold that you couldn't seem to shake even after arriving home. your eyes squeeze close briefly as you revel in it, and you miss the way he glances at you with a smile on his lips.

"figured you could use a little pick-me-up," kyle says, catching your attention. he brushes past you gently, carrying the plate to the coffee table and setting it down. "c'mon, you're probably still freezing." he adds, patting the spot next to him after sitting on the couch again.

"sometimes i forget how sweet you are." you shake your head and settle in next to him, carefully lifting your cup as he tosses a blanket over your legs.

he turns whatever show he was watching back on - some history documentary, you realize - and munches on one of the cookies from the plate, quietly relaxing next to you. you, meanwhile, are sipping on your tea, split between paying attention the show and watching him from the corner of your eye.

moments like this were truly rare for you two, despite your living situation. you came home at the end of every day, but for kyle, that wasn't a guarantee. he'd be gone for weeks, sometimes months, at a time, leaving you to care for your flat until he returned. you've never said it aloud, but you've grown to dread him leaving. the place felt lonely without him, like there was something important missing.

the way he reassures you before leaving and the check-in texts you receive daily while he's gone makes you think he knows already, despite you never saying a word to him about your feelings. he's attentive to a fault - you wouldn't be surprised if he knows you just as well as you know yourself.

"you okay?" his voice interrupts your train of thought suddenly. you jolt, almost spilling your tea, and hastily set it down on the table before turning to him. kyle's gaze is already on you, and your eyes quickly dart anywhere but his face as a warmth slowly creeps up the back of your neck.

"yeah, of course." you wave him off, pulling the blanket closer around yourself. "just chilly, is all. i'm already starting to feel better."

he hums, and you can still sense his gaze on you when he goes quiet. you desperately avoid eye contract, electing to stare at the television whilst not comprehending a single thing on the screen. anything to convince him that you're not having an internal war over whether you like him as a roommate or as something more.

a minute passes, and you think he's dropped it. until his voice, dropped to a near whisper, suddenly speaks right next to your ear.

"do i make you nervous?"

you jump, again, and whip your head around to look at him. kyle's leaned in close, a kind yet nervous smile on his lips, his arm swung over the back cushion to face you properly.

you quirk a brow at him. "nervous?" you ask, gaze finally flicking up to meet his. "no, not at all. why?"

he shrugs his shoulders and chuckles, visibly relaxing at your reply. "i don't know, i just– i'm not here often, i guess. didn't know if i was overstepping or something." he waves his free hand as he talks, trying to find the right words.

"kyle, you're probably the person i feel the safest around." you remark, scooting just a bit closer to him to emphasize your point. well, and to steal some of the heat radiating off him.

"i get that you feel safe, but–" he drops his hand to his side and sighs. "maybe i'm misunderstanding, but you looked like you felt off. just wanted to check in."

tell him, your brain shouts at you, seeing the opportunity. he already knows, all you'll be doing is giving him the reassurance that he always gives to you. the worst thing he can say is no; you'll lose your best friend and have to find a new place to live if he rejects you. that isn't a terrible risk, right?

except, it is. you worry the inside of your cheek and leave the comment hanging in the air for far too long. just as kyle opens his mouth to say something, you interrupt him.

"i don't like when you leave for work," you start, hands fidgeting in your lap. "the apartment feels empty without you– i feel empty without you. i was thinking about that and how much i'll miss stuff like this when you leave again."

for a moment, he just stares at you. it doesn't help with the nerves at all, and you mentally squirm under his scrutiny. your discomfort seems to snap him back into the present, though. kyle's face lights up, practically beaming with joy as he finally responds.

"i'm not going anywhere, not right now." he cups your cheek when you attempt to look away, keeping your focus on him with gentle fingers holding your head in place. "i hate leaving you. if i could be in two places at once, i'd be here around the clock. seeing your smile fall every time i walk out the door hurts like nothing else."

you stifle a small laugh and place your palm over his. "kyle, you've been shot. pretty sure that hurts worse than seeing me sad."

he purses his lips, thinking, before making a noise of disagreement. "ah, think i'd rather take a bullet than see you cry." he counters with a pensive nod, sending you into a fit of bemused giggles.

when you manage to compose yourself, mouth split in a wide grin, you meet his gaze again. kyle's mirroring your expression, though his attention is very clearly elsewhere. his eyes narrow, head dipping ever so slightly as his eyes flit between your own and your lips. it's a subtle gesture, a quiet way of asking for something without pushing you in any particular direction. your tongue darts out to wet your lips, an action that he watches with great interest, and you take in a calming breath before making your next move.

you lean forward, hands finding purchase on his shoulders, and press a kiss to his barely-parted lips. he hesitates for a moment, taken aback, but the reluctance is short-lived as he responds in kind, his hand sliding from your cheek to wrap around the nape of your neck. he pulls you in closer as his unoccupied arm slides off the back cushion, snaking around your waist.

the kiss was saccharine sweet from the start, but as you both pour every pent-up emotion you've suppressed into it, it almost becomes too much.

keyword: almost. it's not enough to make you want to stop.

kyle pulls back just enough to talk a few seconds later, resting his forehead against yours. "that, uh... you have no idea how long i've been dreaming about this." he mutters, chuckling.

"dreamed about anything else?" you ask, lips ghosting over his. he leans in to the featherlight touch, chasing it, forcing you to tilt back with an amused huff. he groans under his breath and straightens his back, giving your words some thought.

"yeah, loads of stuff. about you, though?" he pauses, clicking his tongue as he recalls the aforementioned dreams. "not sure if you're ready to hear those yet. most of 'em are probably best saved until after a proper date."

"there's going to be a date, then?" you ask, draping your arms over his shoulders.

with a lighthearted roll of his eyes, kyle nods. "'course there will. several dates, if you'll have me long enough." he presses a lingering kiss to your lips, muffling your pleased hum.

your reply is a mere whisper fanning against his skin. "i'll have you as long as you're around. i'm already yours."

taglist: @sofasoap, @rohansregret

[mc-lukanette]

Marinette allowed Luka to lead her through the forest, his tiny hand holding her even tinier one. Looking down, she could admire the black of his nails, wishing she could match him yet knowing that her mother would tell her it's "impractical," whatever that word meant.

But that was okay. Having met Luka around a year ago, she was just happy to spend time with him and go on whatever adventures they could get away with in their childhood. His grip was unwavering and, despite its gentleness, she truly felt as if no one could pull her away from him if they tried.

Her feet were a little unsteady as they walked, but he went slow enough that it didn't hinder either of them. Whether he did it on purpose or not, she was thankful for him, only having a bully back at home to deal with rather than any kind of friends.

"Almost there," Luka announced, though quiet enough that it might've been him muttering to himself rather than her. There was a tinge of excitement she could detect in his voice, a sure sign that he'd been anticipating this just as much as her.

The forest was so thick and the trees were so tall that barely any light could show through the leaves. Anywhere patches of sun did show through, tiny flowers were growing, and the two of them slowed or changed course so as to not to step on them even if it made the trip longer.

But finally, Marinette saw light coming from the gaps between the tree trunks, her pace picking up eagerly.

She initially flinched when her eyes had to adjust to the light, but that was how she knew they'd arrived. A village, right in the middle of festivities, laid itself out in front of them, people walking around and talking amongst themselves without batting an eye at them. Fairy lights - which she understood as a magical form of light that grew brighter the closer to nighttime it got - were strewn about everywhere, only giving off a faint shimmer in the pinkish, purplish tint of the afternoon.

"Luka!" she exclaimed in a hush whisper, shaking his arm. "It worked! You did it!"

He beamed at her. "You did it too. Our clothes would look weird if you didn't."

She blushed at the praise, unconsciously gripping his arm tight. Where she'd come from, the types of clothes they'd needed would've been entirely worthless, so it was rare to hear anyone praise her knowledge (as much knowledge as a child could absorb anyway) on the subject. She was simply fascinated by such attire and went through all the necessary research to make sure they'd blend right in.

Coming during festivities was intentional, as everyone would be too busy having fun to pay attention to them. It was also a good excuse for Luka not to have to dye the blue highlights in his hair black, which Marinette insisted he shouldn't have to because they were too pretty to hide. There, highlights in one's hair were just seen as a fun, colorful, and temporary thing to do for the festival.

In other words, they were just two kids wandering through a village like they belonged there, and no one would concern themselves with them unless they appeared truly lost. Marinette involuntarily puffed her chest out, wanting to appear confident in the face of any curious eyes.

Luka giggled next to her, imitating the pose. "Where do you wanna go?"

"Hm?" She glanced at him, then their surroundings. Dodging people would be difficult given their heights in comparison to adults, but she suspected that would change as the day progressed. Furthermore, while the villagers were clearly taken by the festival, she was taken by everything, having never been in such a place before.

Grinning, she said only half-jokingly, "Everywhere!"

—————

Playing by ear, as Luka might've put it, 'everywhere' started with a stand that seemed to be boasting about some sort of game: a typical choice for children, but very new for them. The person behind it was highly enthusiastic, waving at anyone who even glanced their way. It was funny, so they were drawn to it.

"Hey there, boy and girl!" the person greeted with a clap of their hands. "Do one of you want to play? Every customer's first game is free, and if you win then you get anything here as a prize!"

Behind them were shelves lined with handcrafted plushies, pillows, and tiny wooden figurines. Marinette turned to Luka to check his interest, but he looked oddly unimpressed with the display.

Still wanting to try anyway, Marinette climbed up onto the stool in front of the stand and bopped the counter with both hands. "I'll play! Um, how do I play?"

The person smiled, pulling out a few cards shaped like leaves and placing them upside-down along the counter, muttering something as they went. Behind them, Marinette took in the main attraction that she assumed must be the "game": a fake tree that had six "levels," each level designated by a single hole with a branch coming out the bottom of it. She blinked, wondering what the connection was, then looked down at the cards and noticed that there were also six of them.

Touching one experimentally, it didn't move but flashed orange and let out an awful (albeit brief) noise. She scrunched her nose up in displeasure, reminded of the sound of her bully's whining.

"My little friend can explain the rest," the person behind the stand added, looking over at the tree.

One of the holes on the lower half flashed green, a small fairy emerging from it and landing gracefully on the branch. They bowed, waving to their captivated audience of two and explaining, "We'll give you one minute to play. I'll be hiding in the tree and pop out of each hole at random to stand on the branch. You need to touch the card that matches it when that happens."

Marinette remembered then that the hole the fairy had come out of was green. Staring at it, it was the third hole from the bottom, and the card that flashed orange was second to the left. It must've been like a rainbow: red, orange, yellow, green, blue, and purple. The cards hadn't actually been leaves either, they were shaped like the fairy's wings.

The fairy smiled knowingly at her understanding of the game. "I'll go slow for the first thirty seconds, but don't expect me to go easy on you after that just because you're a child."

She pouted, leaning forward in determination with her hands hovering over the cards. The fairy slipped back into the game's tree and the person nearby raised a hand, a wordless gesture to tell her to prepare.

"Ready?" they asked. At her nod, they counted down, "Three... two... one... go!"

They threw their hand down and the fairy immediately popped out from the hole that flashed yellow. Marinette followed by smacking the third card, which let out a pleasant 'ding' noise this time rather than a bad one. When the fairy slipped back in, it took a few seconds before they popped out of another hole, this time blue. Marinette hit the second-to-last card that time.

The game went on like that as the fairy had promised, a consistent rhythm of them popping out for a second, disappearing, and popping out somewhere else. She followed their movements easily enough, going from green to red to purple and then green again.

So far, so good. With each affirming 'ding', a strip of color was added to the fairies wings, corresponding with the color of the hole they'd left.

Then, the thirty seconds passed and things started to speed up. The fairy wasn't waiting as long this time whenever they went back inside the tree, so Marinette had to be quicker with her taps. It was also a little more tricky as it wasn't guaranteed to be a different color anymore: sometimes she had to hit orange twice in a row.

Despite Luka's disinterest in the prizes, she could feel his interest in her playing. His eyes never left the cards under her hands and she was starting to feel the pressure. She really wanted to win and impress him.

Ten seconds left. The fairy wasn't messing around anymore and the timing became more erratic. They barely popped out at all before going back in and Marinette was expected to know where the cards were now, no longer having the time to look down at them to check.

Orange, purple, green, green, and then green again. Red, blue, orange—!

Marinette's hand flew up in the air in shock as the unpleasant whine signified a failure. She blinked rapidly, needing a second to realize what had happened: that, in her panic, she hit yellow instead.

The holes all flashed at once, then slowly dimmed with a fading whirring noise to signify the end of the game. She'd lost, and even worse was that she could see the colored strips along the fairy's wings as they emerged to perch on one of the branches. All the colors she had tapped went along the whole of the wings - disregarding how tacky it looked - barring the very end, which was just barely uncolored.

"You did your best, kid," the person at the stand complimented, leaning on the counter. They appeared genuinely impressed. "I don't think anyone here has gotten as far as you on their first try. Do you want to go again?"

Marinette's competitive side wanted to push for another round, but she didn't have that much money on her. It seemed like such a waste to use it up on something she might not win.

"...No," she replied reluctantly, the frown evident in her voice. She hopped down from the stool, disappointed, but a clattering noise from that same stool made her look back.

Luka had gotten up onto it, raising a hand and insisting, "I want a try."

That was weird to her. It made sense for him to watch her play, but not for him to play if he didn't even want any prizes. Granted, if the first try was always free, there at least wasn't any harm in trying either.

The fairy fluttered their wings, the strips of color evaporating off as if they'd never been there in the first place, then they happily slipped back into the nearest hole. Marinette watched on curiously as the countdown was repeated, wanting to see how well her best friend would do.

The game began, Luka watching each hole carefully and looking down when he needed to. Red, green, yellow, all carefully tapped as he kept his focus on the fairy. Normally, Luka wasn't as good with games as she was, but Marinette supposed he could've been playing just to play. Maybe it looked like fun.

Thirty seconds passed by successfully, meaning it was time to speed up again. Much to Marinette's surprise, Luka dropped his eyes fully to the cards on the counter, no longer looking at the fairy anymore. That, reasonably speaking, seemed in every way a losing strategy, but the first tap Luka made went off cleanly.

Then the second, then the third, and before long she realized that whatever he was doing was working. Purple, blue, yellow, yellow, orange, and he wasn't even breaking a sweat. Marinette gripped the counter in anticipation, unable to count the exact seconds but feeling the time pass in the back of her head.

She got on her tiptoes, wanting to cheer him on but afraid of throwing him off if she did. Her ankles ached from the awkward position, but she didn't even notice in the heat of the moment.

He was getting close to where she'd been, which could be gauged by the fairy picking up their pace. Marinette watched the cards light up under Luka's touches, seeing the hole of the tree flash right before it out of the corner of her eyes. She felt so tense that it was almost like she was the one playing, and she wondered if that was what it was like for Luka watching her earlier.

The one difference was that, with one, final tap on the blue card, he beat the game. She gasped, watching the final flash of the tree as the fairy flew out with strips of color going all along their wings, signifying his victory.

The person behind the stand staggered backwards, putting a hand to their chest in awe. "Wow! Congratulations! You did great!"

The fairy even clapped for him, nodding along to the praise.

Luka didn't particularly acknowledge the victory until Marinette awkwardly hopped up onto one of the horizontal pieces on the lower part of the stool, squeezing Luka in celebration. "That was so cool!"

He had to lean away to avoid the stool toppling over, but he happily returned the hug with one arm. "Thanks, but I got it from seeing you play first."

"Then we both got it!" she corrected. She didn't know if he was telling the truth, but she wouldn't complain if it joined the two of them together in some way.

The person at the stand gave them a few more seconds to themselves, then gestured at the shelves behind them to ask, "So? What kind of prize do you want?"

Luka narrowed his eyes at the prizes, looking all over without committing to any of them. It was taking him longer to pick something than it did for him to play, but slowly, his gaze dropped down and he pointed with his free arm. "That."

Marinette squinted, leaning forward a bit, and saw what he'd requested when the person raised their arm up confusedly. On their wrist was a spiral bracelet wrapping around half their forearm in the colors of the rainbow.

"This?" They waved him off. "This isn't one of our prizes. Those are on the shelves back there."

They jabbed a thumb behind them, but Luka wasn't deterred. "You said we could have anything here as a prize."

"...Ah—?"

They were baffled, then jerked their head towards their fairy companion, who'd suddenly burst into laughter at what was going on.

"Aw, just give it to him!" they said, wings fluttering in tune with their giggles. "He just won a second time against us with that!"

The person snorted, having not expected any of this today, but relented and slipped the bracelet off. "Alright, you little sneak. A deal's a deal."

Luka accepted the bracelet, giving it a final look before holding it out to Marinette. With a soft smile, he said, "Here."

"Oooo~" Keeping one arm around him, she held the bracelet up to the sky with the other, watching the colors shift depending on how the light was hitting it. "It's neat!"

She went to hand it back to him, but Luka's hand had dropped into his lap, curled into a fist so she couldn't. A beat of silence passed, which is how long she'd needed for it to click with her.

"W-wha—" She let go of him, losing her balance on the stool. The drop wasn't at all high, so her feet hit the ground without a stumble. "But why?"

He cast a glance at the shelves. "You can't take any of those home."

So he'd thought about giving her a gift all along? That's why he looked at the shelves like that? And that wasn't even what she meant!

"But..." She stopped short, staring down at the bracelet again and running her fingers over its surface. She'd already been planning to get Luka something anyway, and she had wanted a souvenir from her experience there. Wouldn't the souvenir being from Luka make it all the more special?

Wordlessly, she accepted the gift by putting it on herself. It was too large for her own arm, so she slipped it onto one of her legs instead, wiggling the leg experimentally to make sure it wouldn't fall off. By the time she'd confirmed it, Luka had hopped off the stool so they could continue on their way.

Holding his hand so as to not get lost (one of the few lessons from her parents that she was actually following at the moment), she walked alongside him and asked, "How'd you do that anyway?"

He gave her a curious glance, clueless.

"What you did!" She waved back at the stand. "You beat it without looking!"

"Mmm..." He tilted his head. "But I heard it."

"Huh?"

He made a flapping motion with his free hand. "I heard the wings echoing in the tree, and they stopped when they got to a hole."

He could hear the wings flapping in the tree and know which hole the fairy would come out of from the way he heard it echo and stop?!

Marinette exhaled in disbelief, leaning against him. "But you're my best friend, so I already thought you were the best!" Looking up at him, she genuinely asked, "Does that make you my best best friend now?"

Luka let out a small noise, covering his mouth in a rare show of embarrassment. "It was just a game."

"No it wasn't! 'Cause you won it for me!"

He relented to her point after enough pressing.

—————

Marinette totally, definitely hadn't been searching for one, but one of their next stops was a store that just so happened to have toys in the window. There was a sound of a bell as they walked in and she peered up at it, wondering if someone must've hung it there as a prank to annoy whoever worked there.

Regardless, she had a mission and dismissed the thought to eye the store. Her grip on Luka's hand tightened in determination, but then she noted that she wouldn't be able to secretly buy him anything if she clung to him. She'd even need her other hand to properly inspect the quality of whatever she was buying.

"I'm gonna go over here," she told him, letting go of him to point in a random direction.

"Okay." He nodded, immediately heading there and misinterpreting her entirely.

"A-ah, wait, wait!" She hurried to get in front of him and pressed against his chest with her hands to stop him. "I mean, we should play hide-and-seek, so I'll go over there to count!"

He stared at her, then looked around as she had done earlier, though for very different reasons. Thankfully, the store was big enough, having more than enough shelves, clothing racks, and random objects to either hide around or hide behind. She even saw a few plushes even bigger than her that would make for a good hiding place, though she questioned how a giant would fit into the store to buy one.

"I'll go hide," Luka agreed after an agonizing few seconds. He turned away, getting ready to walk, but stopped to look over his shoulder at her in confusion.

Right, she needed to go count.

Marinette headed off in the direction she'd pointed to, trying not to be obvious about staring at the things she passed on the way. Some of them were candy and snacks, but she didn't want to give Luka anything that wouldn't last. She didn't want to buy him any of the children's books either, because if they were called children's books then that meant it wouldn't be a gift for him when he wasn't a child anymore.

For the time being, she squatted down at the edge of one of the many shelves and covered her eyes, making due on the lie by counting aloud. Faintly, she could hear Luka's footsteps getting further away, straining her ears to hear them over her own voice until she was certain he was far enough from her.

By then, she carefully trailed off her counting until there was nothing but silence, freeing her to stand up and start exploring for a gift. If Luka saw her before he found a hiding spot, she could always claim that she never said how long she would count for.

Finding a balance between eyeing the toys she saw and looking out for anything dangerously Luka-colored, she went down an aisle at a time. Occasionally, she would stop to pick something up, like a pair of two squishy ladybugs forming a ball together, or a slug that made a funny clicking sound when she wiggled it, but nothing was calling to her as a gift for him. She knew Luka was a sweetheart and would like anything offered to him, but that wasn't a reason to not try.

As she tried to imagine what a "perfect gift" for Luka would even be like, she caught sight of something pink and blue on one of the shelves. She hurried over and, while she was briefly disappointed that it was only the back of the packaging that was blue, the pink color screamed her which made it serve as a good reminder of who this potential gift to Luka came from.

It was a clam shell. Marinette ran her fingertip along the ridges and noted that there was a little clip or force of some kind keeping it shut. It opened with a little effort, but nothing was inside; according to the advertisement, it was made to hold something, though didn't specify what.

Luka was someone who could use something to hold things. Eyeing the inside of the clam, she saw that there were even little slits that he could perhaps use for guitar picks. That might not've been the intention of the maker had in mind when they designed such a thing, but they didn't specify beyond "something," and guitar picks would be multiple somethings! Genius!

Taking the clam off the shelf, she ran through the store as fast as her little legs would carry her. She almost tripped and went face-first into the floor, but the sheer importance of the moment kept her upright.

Understanding enough about stores to know that she had to go to the cashier, she took one last wary look for any sign of Luka before handing them the clam. Reaching into her pocket, she pulled out the few coins she had, which were gathered meticulously over many days on the beach. She still recalled waiting for everyone to leave so she could look for coins they may have dropped, wanting to be ready in case something like this ever happened.

Giving them up to the cashier, they confirmed the price of the clam and returned it to her, as well as a single coin. The packaging had been taken off at her request, so she could fully take in the sight of the little storage clam and the nice weight it had.

Thankful for the deep pockets in the jacket she had, she slipped it inside, doubly thankful that the poofy design allowed for the clam's bulk to not be that noticeable. Then, with all that checked and confirmed, she set off to look for Luka.

By her estimation, it hadn't been that long since their game had started and she'd kept her eyes out for him the whole time, so she felt good about him not being suspicious that she'd been up to anything. Grinning to herself, she daydreamed about his potential reaction while searching for him between shelves and behind the giant plushies.

Tauntingly, she raised a hand to the side of her mouth and called, "Luuuuka~" She looked left, then right. "I'm gonna find y—"

She stopped when a rustling noise caught her attention, her focus shifting to one of the circular clothing racks that had fancy festival wear. Two pieces of clothing were pushed aside, Luka slowly stepping out from the gap he made.

Marinette blinked. They made eye contact and he froze halfway out of his hiding spot, a few confused seconds passing by before they both realized what happened.

He was so used to coming to her when she called his name that he did so without thinking.

Luka bowed his head, ashamed of having ruined their game. "Sorry."

Giggling, Marinette made her way over to him and snatched up his hand. It made her happy, knowing that they could both act silly together. "It's okay! My hand was lonely anyway!"

It wasn't a lie even if she'd planned to return to him casually. Things just felt better when he was around and she hadn't wanted to separate in the first place.

—————

Even over the hustle and bustle of the crowd as the afternoon began to transition to evening, Marinette could still hear the grumbling of Luka's stomach. She stopped, eyeing the source of the sound, and Luka turned to look at her.

"What?"

"Ah... I'm hungry," she told him. "Can we eat?"

An actual lie that time, but she'd been down this road before to know that it was necessary. They'd gotten into loops enough times of noticing that the other was hungry, the other insisting not to worry about it, and back and forth until finally they both decided to eat together. In retrospect, Luka may have given the same lie to her in the past.

It just seemed like such a waste to miss out on potential playtime to eat, but at least now they could have food they hadn't tried before.

Luka agreed, so they set about finding something they wanted. There were plenty of people down the streets waving around food and shouting out what she presumed was the name of it, but the two of them couldn't really make sense of it. Food there was so different from what they were used to that they probably wouldn't recognize anything anyway.

They debated on whether they should risk their money on chance, but then they heard the familiar word "blueberry" and looked over. Luka was a forest dweller and often brought Marinette fruit that he picked, so they both knew what those were.

In the woman's hands, however, were tiny round things that Marinette didn't recognize. They were closer to baby blue than the dark purplish-blue she was used to on blueberries, which confused her brain entirely as they did smell like blueberries. At Luka's asking, the woman listed off a few rough ingredients and the general process of baking them, but it all sounded like random words mashed together barring "blueberries" and "eggs."

"Here." She put her handful of treats back in the container she had them in, pulling out one in each hand and offering it to them. "Cuties like you can have one for free as a taste test."

Marinette exchanged a glance with Luka. She wasn't sure what the criteria was that the lady was using, but she could agree that he was cute: calm, quiet, and always with something sweet to say whenever he did speak.

"Okay," Marinette began, only to not take the one offered to her and point at Luka instead, "but Luka has to give it to me."

He didn't ask why, accepting both treats and holding one up to her mouth. Catching the woman's confused stare on her, Marinette felt compelled to explain anyway.

"My maman and papa told me not to take sweets from strangers, but Luka's not a stranger."

With that, she opened her mouth and let Luka slip the treat in at the same time he fed himself. The taste of blueberry filled her mouth as she bit down, the treat so tiny that she could only bite a few times before it was largely crumbs. The outside had been crisp, but inside it was soft and a little chewy, her tongue getting the full force of the fruit she would still insist it didn't look like.

She put a hand to her lips, letting out a tiny, pleased noise at the flavor, and heard something similar from Luka. It was an easy choice from there to buy it, though she already imagined that the single coin she had wouldn't buy much.

Luka, on the other hand, still had coins of his own. While she'd found hers on the beach, he sometimes found some that forest visitors had dropped, or those snatched up by birds and placed in nests for their shine. He bought enough that the both of them would've struggled to hold them even if they used both of their hands, but the woman settled the two piles onto edible pink paper for them, neatly crimped and folded so as to contain them well.

Walking off with the treats, they found a quiet place to sit and got to eating. Marinette imagined that her parents might have complained about her eating so much of something sweet, but it had fruit in it and it was a "treat" day anyway. They deserved to spoil themselves instead of thinking about such things.

"Why do all kids like sweet stuff?" she wondered aloud. "Some adults do too."

Luka hummed, not able to answer at first when his mouth was full. He swallowed, then guessed, "Maybe they have a spell on 'em?"

She looked down, eyes narrowed in suspicion as she poked the top of the pile. Nothing happened, at least beyond the treats moving from the little push. "All sweets? Do they wanna be eaten that bad?"

He shrugged, still mulling it over, and she took the time to shove a palmful into her mouth.

"What if we have the spell?" he suggested. "So it's not the sweets, and sometimes the spell goes away when we grow up?"

"So we're cursed when we get born?" She nodded along, invested in the hot new theory he just dropped. "I bet your mom could cure us. She's good with magic and potions."

"Mm." He stopped eating to consider that, lightly prodding and moving around the treats he still had, then countered, "But it'd be sad not to like these anymore."

"Yeah," she solemnly agreed. That was the trick of such a curse, she supposed, because why would someone want to take away how good sweets tasted?

The conversation lulled off as they dedicated themselves to enjoying the treats, cursed or otherwise. Marinette even tore a corner of the paper to taste, noting the strawberry undertones, and got an idea. With just a few, precious blueberry bites left, she curled the paper around them and shoved the whole thing directly into her mouth, flooding it with the taste of both berries at once.

Luka was wide-eyed at the motion, but not in any negative way. Rather, he thought it was an amazing idea and went about imitating her, slightly clumsier with curling the paper but it didn't affect the taste.

With any hunger satiated, they dusted off their hands like they'd done a hard day's work, then returned to enjoying the festivities.

—————

Neither of them were used to walking for so long. Knowing that, it was inevitable that their legs would start to tire, but the two of them had left it as a problem for their future selves.

Except now, though thankfully late in their adventure, the future had arrived and they reluctantly accepted that they had to rest. They searched for a quiet place where few people would be and settled on a library, having not even realized how much it was to deal with the crowd of people outside until they were away from it all.

A single librarian stood behind the front desk, idly sorting things they couldn't quite see. On the corner of the desk was a container of candy, either bribing material or congratulatory rewards for kids to read more, but they ignored them to traverse the rest of the library.

The rows of bookshelves almost felt like a maze of knowledge, but they eventually made it to a comfy little spot in a corner. There was a table, chairs, and a few books that were either abandoned or recommended for those who may've come by. Curious, Marinette grabbed one of the books to look at, but scowled when the cover showed blond hair that looked all too similar to her bully's.

Definitely abandoned books.

Luka was tired enough that he didn't even bother pulling out one of the chairs to sit on, opting to plop down on the floor and lean against the wall. Sympathetic, Marinette left the book re-abandoned on the table and went over to kneel at his side.

"You should sleep if you're tired," she encouraged.

He yawned, though tried to hide it with his hands. "There's a lot we didn't do yet."

She tapped her chin in thought. "Well... we didn't sleep yet? I can read you a story too."

Before he could answer, she pushed herself up and walked away to a small rack of more child-friendly books than the ones on the table. Their thinness made it perfect for her hands to hold comfortably, and she returned to Luka with a smile.

Then, considering something, she put the book down on Luka's lap and retrieved the heavier book she'd hated from the table. Dropping it next to their little spot, she sat down next to him and picked the thinner book back up.

"This one's to read," she explained, then pointed to the one she'd dropped. "That's for keeping you safe if anyone tries to wake you up."

He giggled at the exaggerated motion she made of whacking someone with the book. "I thought books were for learning things."

It was playful, but Marinette huffed and replied anyway, "They'll learn not to wake you up."

And that was that. She leaned against the wall with him, their bodies bumping together comfortably as she opened the book to the first page. Her ability to read aloud wasn't perfect and she stumbled on a couple words she'd seen but never spoken before, yet Luka didn't complain.

Eventually, she felt him relax against her, looking over to see that his eyes were shut and his breathing had slowed. She debated with herself on continuing to read, but the book didn't seem as fun when they weren't looking at it together.

Her eyelids drooped, the letters blurring as the sleepiness started to take her too. She had promised to protect Luka while he napped, but she could already hear his voice in her head, telling her that she couldn't protect him if she didn't protect herself first.

Making a compromise with herself, she turned further towards him, settling the book on his lap and placing her hands atop it. His scent was familiar as she snuggled against him and, if she really focused on it, she could still smell the flowers they had picked and put on each other the other day.

The scent on her, unfortunately, had probably washed off by then, but that was fine. They still had the memories even if the scent didn't linger, and that thought lulled her fully into secure slumber.

—————

"Hey... hey there, come on," a gentle, deep voice said. "Wake up."

Marinette whined, glaring off at nothing as she slowly opened her eyes, then lifted her head up towards the source of the wake-up call. It was the librarian, who looked worriedly down at the both of them, just out of whacking distance.

"I wanted to let you two sleep, but it's getting late," he told her. "Aren't your parents worried about you?"

Honestly? Probably not. Her parents were nice but didn't have much of a hands-on approach - probably assumed she lost track of time somewhere - whereas Luka's mom was fully aware where they were and what they were doing. She looked outside to get an estimate of the time, the fairy lights hung just outside the window glowing as bright as ever.

Because it was as late as ever.

Marinette jolted, eyes wide open as she turned to Luka. She didn't even have time to wonder if she'd have to whack herself for trying to wake him, too panicked as she grabbed his shoulder and gave him a shake.

"Luka! Luka, Luka!"

He groaned as he stirred from her efforts. His body was sluggish and might've fallen over had she not had a firm grip on him. "M-Marinette...?"

"It's late!" she cried out. "Late late!"

He blinked slowly at her, because normally it being "late late" wouldn't be a concern for either of them. However, his brain finally caught up and he became wide awake in an instant, pushing himself to his feet as the book fell from his lap to the floor. "We have to go!"

"Yeah!" She hurriedly gathered the two books to set them on the table, barely giving the librarian a "thank you" before her hand grabbed Luka's and they were off. The little corner they'd taken minutes to find after coming in through the front door took only seconds to backtrack from, the two of them working as a tiny unit to force the door open as fast as possible with their free hands.

Ignoring any glances they might've gotten from adults, they ran around and past anyone they could. Occasionally, they might've bumped something or someone, taking up more space from being side-by-side as they were, but their grip on each other was solid and they refused to let go of each other even for convenience.

Before long, they headed back into the forest, Marinette allowing Luka to lead since he was the one who knew the way. Swerving around trees and ducking under branches, it was clear that he was trying to take the quickest route possible.

It was hard to gauge the time anymore, the moon completely out of sight due to the vast foliage above them. Still, Marinette could catch them smell of the ocean, so she felt they could still make it before—

"Ah—!"

She fell forward, Luka stumbling along with her as they both hit the ground. She raised her head to apologize, certain that her legs had finally given out, but then she looked behind her.

In place of her legs was her mermaid tail, bright pink and shimmering like it'd never left. The only evidence that she'd gone to a human village at all was the bracelet she'd put on, which nicely fit right above the fins at the end. She turned her head back to Luka and, sure enough, his naga tail had come back as well.

There was only one conclusion to draw: that the potions his mother had given them had worn off. She groaned, mentally cursing her luck that they'd turned back just before they got to the ocean. To Luka, it was hardly a problem so long as they were out of the village where they could no longer be seen, but not so much with Marinette.

She wiggled her tail and tried to push herself up, but to no avail. She couldn't move on land like he did, only awkwardly crawl or drag herself.

"Marinette," Luka called, fretting. He looked her over worriedly for injuries and reached for her arm when he found none. "Here, hold onto me."

She pouted as he helped her up and guided her hand to his shoulder. "I'm gonna be heavy."

"Nu-uh," he huffed, like it was a personal offense to him if he couldn't lift her.

Slowly, she slipped both of her arms around his neck while he grabbed her waist, straightening up and reorienting the both of them. He kept one hand at her back, the other supporting her tail so they could continue on their way.

She still protested, but he didn't complain, grunt, or show any signs that he was bothered on their way back to the beach. The trees slowly made way for vast skies and pink sand, but she clung a little tighter to him even as she stared out at the familiar sights that should've been home.

They both readied themselves, Luka's arms tensing while she prepared herself to leap. With one precise, strong toss, he threw her upwards and she flung in an arc to land safely back in the water. The crisp, clear world aboveground turned blurry when she looked up, the water distorting it into shapes she knew weren't real.

Popping her head back up above the surface, she looked out at Luka, who had made himself comfortable on the beach. He was leaning back, his hands almost lost in the sand and supporting him as he tried to catch his breath.

"Sorry," she murmured.

He raised a brow at her, puzzled, then offered her a smile. "I had fun."

He'd changed the subject, not even acknowledging the apology like he truly didn't need it. Marinette mirrored the smile back at him, agreeing, "Me too. Maybe we can go again?"

The immediate nod was reassuring. Though it ended rather stressfully, that didn't take away from the experience overall.

She also noticed then that their clothes from the waist up had stayed on: one more happy reminder of their secret adventure. She grinned wider, gripping her jacket and pulling it tight against herself, but something ridged, large, and round nudged at her side as she did.

Gasping, her eyes lit up in recognition. She twisted, awkwardly fighting the wet fabric and the drag of the water to reach into the pocket. "Oh, um, Luka, I got..."

Sand shifted nearby as Luka came closer to her, the tide just barely missing him. Marinette retrieved the clam and swam closer, struggling a bit with the shore but managing to find a comfortable place where she could "sit."

"Here! It's for you!" she exclaimed, holding the clam out to him. It was wet, but a quality enough product that it wasn't damaged or worn from it. "I bought it at the store we went to."

He gaped at her, leaning forward to take a closer look. Nearly losing his balance, he thrust his hands into the wet sand and hovered over the gift while she presented it to him. "Really? For me?"

"For you!" she echoed. Popping the clam open, she pointed at the slits on the inside and explained, "You can hold things inside, like your guitar picks! Neat, right?"

Though, when she looked at it again, she wondered if it was really enough for her best friend, who'd been upgraded just that day to best best friend. A storage container was nice, but was giving someone an empty one equivalent to giving them a gift box with nothing inside? Surely there was something she could put in it.

An idea struck a moment later, Marinette pulling back and turning the inside of the clam towards her. Raising it to her lips, she kissed the inner part of the top for good luck before slamming the clam shut with a satisfying click, wanting to make sure the luck didn't have a chance to escape.

That way, she figured, the bottom could store his guitar picks and the top could store the good luck. It was taking full advantage of all the space inside.

Holding it carefully with both hands, she extended her arms towards him with a hopeful smile. "Do you like it?"

He was speechless, having not expected to get any gift that day beyond his time with her. His lips pressed together in a pout, wobbly with emotion as he raised a hand to take the gift from her.

However, he stopped short, noticing the wet sand still caking his hand. Unwilling to touch her gift with dirty hands, he reached into the water to flap his hands about inside to try and clean them. While that did most of the job, he remained dissatisfied and grabbed at his jacket, pulling it off to wipe his hands on it.

Throwing the jacket-turned-towel aside, he finally took the clam from her and cradled it to his chest. Marinette's heart ached pleasantly, seeing that it was already something precious to him.

"Thanks. I love it," he whispered.

They stayed there for just a minute longer in each other's company, no longer fearing any time limit urging them into action. Their friendship was powerful despite only a year of knowing each other, of having to meet in secret at the shore when no one else was around, of Luka's mother "stealing" Marinette away to show her their home when viable, and of risky adventures created through human disguises.

There would inevitably be a time in the future where they wouldn't be able to do it anymore. They would get older, busier, and it would be harder to keep meeting on the shore. Even further in the future, one of them may even have to make a choice to ensure they never part again.

But in the blissful innocence of childhood, they could simply enjoy their time together.

[home-sweet-hive]

ALTERNATE HUMANITY

A Field Guide to "Humanity Removal Therapy"

Part 2: Facade (ft. @dawning-mars )

This is a complimentary series to this system's other Animal HRT series; Black Arms HRT

Letter from your "Penpal":

Hey, very sorry about this part taking a while to come out. It's one thing for a comic to take a while, but I feel a little pathetic that it took me over a month to write this part out. Yeah yeah, "self deprecation isn't gonna get you anywhere", I know. Let me do things wrong sometimes. But hey, I did get it complete in time for the big Dragon HRT send off, so that's something I guess. Aik did a lot of being poetic and stuff yesterday with his Fish HRT fanart, I don't wanna bore you by doing the same. (Not like I have anything of the sort to say, anyways.)

Let's get on with the show. Thanks for reading and making the community what it is or whatever, I like writing about y'all.

WARNING: This part still has the Swearing, Mentions of Death, and the Untrustworthy Narrator/Main Character from last time, but also there are now Mentions of Cults and Violent Threats. Also just a general horror vibe, especially towards the end. Reader Beware.

Prev | Next (COMING SOON. HOPEFULLY.)

8:00am, February 9th, 2025

The following is an audio recording from Doctor Theodore H. Erian, transcripted into text;

“Eight in the morning, February the 9th. … Is that necessary? I’ll admit, I’ve never done something like this. I’ve had some patients of mine send in audio tapes for their transition journals before, for one reason or another, sure, but I’ve never made one myself. I… I just want to be vigilant.”

“That journal that I read a week ago… It still haunts me a little. I know, I know, I contort human bodies into resembling animals for a living, and a simple PDF sent to me via email is what keeps me up at night.”

“But in the days that have passed since I conversed with Doctor Fortune, I’ve been rereading those journal entries in between working with patients. I’ve been picking up on… Details. Unsettling details. The one that gets at me the worst is when the author mentions how the technology behind Animal HRT would ‘go to a much more important use’ if in their hands… Just what do they even mean by that? Furthermore, the author seems to work for a news station, but their descriptions in certain places throughout their entries suggests their workplace has responsibilities far beyond the scope of such a profession. They also seem rather close with and even have some authority over a pair of researchers from a laboratory, as if the two businesses are subsidiaries of another organization. The greater organization both the station and laboratory are under is probably the one Doctor Fortune mentioned in her emails, come to think of it.”

“But back to the point. The reason why I’m recording myself right now. The day that the journal suggested its author would come for me has arrived, and I indeed have several appointments on my schedule today. One of them being for a L. Black. I… feel like it’d be a breach of privacy to give their full name in this recording. But that patient does have the same first initial as the author of the journal, which is arguably the most important detail. I do have the full first name now, mind you, though I’m sure you’re not surprised to hear that the name was generic enough for me to get flooded with results from all sorts of different dimensions when I tried to look them up. In the end, I wasn’t able to get much information on them.” 

“The surname suggests a possible connection to the Black Arms, at least in my opinion. Soon before Doctor Fortune had approached me, I had been given a ‘notice of investigation’ by the Guardian Units of Nations. They’re trying to deter me from ever making or distributing an HRT for the Black Arms, and it honestly does seem similar to what Doctor Fortune is doing. In fact, I did try asking her a few days ago if she was affiliated with G.U.N.”

“She seemed rather offended by the question, chastising me for ‘comparing this situation to a video game plot’... Can she blame me? I work in and for a land between dimensions, for fucks sake…”

“But aside from that, I suppose all I can do now is… wait. Wait and see what Mr. Black does. What they… want.”

--

9:20am, February 9th, 2025

>Real time transcription from audio recording.

>Any typos or mistakes made are either L████’s or another ████████████████████████████████’s responsibility to detect and correct.

>Reminder: I am not a grammar checker, and my knowledge unfortunately relies on what is given to me.

[sound description: door opening, followed by a bell ringing, and the door then closing]

“Welcome to the TOHC Primary Care Center. Let me guess, you’re here for Doctor Erian?”

“Yep. I have an appointment.” 

“Do you now? Heh, most just waltz in here without so much as a 15 minute notice call…” “What’s your name?”

“L████ ████.’

“Thank you.”

[sound description: Tapping of keyboard keys]

“I see. You do indeed have an appointment with Doctor Erian, but you’re quite early, don’t you think?” 

“Am I now?”

“Yes. Your appointment is at noon. Did you mean to schedule it earlier in the day or…?”

“Noon is fine.”

“Good, ‘cause you wouldn’t be able to reschedule your appointment unless you changed the day outright.”

“Tch. Of course not.”

“You can go sit down in the waiting area now.”

--

9:30-10:30am, February 9th, 2025

Removed the recording of this section of time and the subsequent transcript made for it. Nothing of importance really occurred during this time, just people coming in and out of the building without much coming from that. Keeping it around was just unnecessary in my opinion.

--

10:40am, February 9th, 2025

Okay, here’s where things get interesting again~

[sound description: door opening, followed by a bell ringing, and the door then closing]

[sound description: distant talking, sound too far for accurate transcription]

[sound description: someone sitting down in a chair nearby]

“Oh, hello.”

“Oh! Sorry, I didn’t notice you there, hun!”

“Don’t sweat it, I don’t mind having someone to talk to while I wait.”

“Ah, alright…” “So… What is it that you’re waiting for?”

“I have an appointment with Doctor Erian at noon.”

“Really? I have an appointment with him too!”

“Heh. Doesn’t sound much like ‘waltzing in here with no notice’ to me.”

“Huh?”

“Oh right, sorry. When I got here the receptionist made a remark about most people treating the place like a walk-in and I found it funny how you’re proving her wrong.” “But it didn’t quite click in time that you wouldn’t have been able to know that context.”

“I see!” “That’s… comforting? Maybe?”

“Hmm?”

“It seems like Erian isn’t the only one around here that’s got a sharp tongue…”

“Is he… known for being harsh?” 

“From what I’ve heard, yeah…”

“That explains some things, then.”

“But anyways, what kind of Animal HRT are you hoping to get on?” 

“Oh, I’m not here to get myself a prescription.” “My friend tried to get on Cat HRT through him but was denied. I’m trying to find out why.”

“Oh…”

“... Sorry if I made you uncomfortable, I-”

“No, you’re fine, hun.” 

“... If you insist.” “Can I assume you ARE looking to get a prescription, then?”

“Yeah.”

“May I ask for what?”

“A-ah, well… I know it sounds crazy, but-”

“No judgement from me, you’re in crazed company.”

“... I want to go on Eldritch HRT.” 

“Eldritch?”

“Y-Yeah. That’s… That’s what I want!”

“How interesting! Do you have a specific entity you want to be like? A cult you want to curate or join? Just how many so-called ‘eldritch entities’ across the realms are you aware of? Are… Are you-”

“I… Haven’t given it all that much thought, to be honest…”

“That’s fine! That just means you’re up for anything, right?” 

“U-Uhm… I guess so?” “You seem… really excited by all this. Are you a fan of eldritch horror too?”

“I guess you could say that~” “Oh-! Where have my manners been? I don’t think I got your name!”

“Did I not give it? Sorry about that, hun!” “Mars ████.”

“Nice to meet you, Mars! My name’s L████. L████ ████.”

“Nice to meet you too, L████!” 

“But back to the Eldritch HRT thing of yours – how many entities are you aware of?”

“Well, I do know a good bit of the writings of HP Lovecraft…”

“Is that it?”

“Is there more I should know?”

“Yes! But that’s alright, I can teach you everything you need to know. Let me just-”

“Mars?”

“That’s me!”

“Shit, is it time for your appointment already? Well maybe we can keep talking after you-”

[sound description: Mars walks off with Doctor Erian to his office]

–

She didn’t come back to talk to me after her appointment. It seemed that she was pretty upset as she left the building. Did she get rejected too? 

I hope to meet up with Mars again soon. 

I sensed some hesitation in her voice as we talked, but I just know she’d be a perfect fit for us once she learns about us and what we are.

But anyways, nothing of interest occurred in the hour after my conversation with Mars, so I deleted that section of recording as well.

Which takes us right to my meeting with Doctor Erian. 

What a mess that was…

--

12:00pm, February 9th, 2025

The following is a written recounting by Doctor Theodore H. Erian.

I had originally intended to audio record my meeting with Mr. Black, just like the recording I had made this morning.

However, the moment I saw him, I knew that I would have to get on his level, so to speak. Audio wasn’t going to cut it when it came to conveying the full picture of my experience. 

So here we are.

As I mentioned in my emails to Doctor Fortune, I had gotten many, many results when I looked his name up, but despite all that, he managed to look nothing like any of them in person.

I could sense I was being deceived, or perhaps even toyed with in some way. But I wasn’t sure in what way it was.

After having noticed that, I then took notice of a rather large bag they had slung around their shoulders. Looked to be a laptop bag, by my best guess. I of course remembered what Doctor Fortune had said to me about not allowing him to show me anything on his laptop if they offer, and so I readied myself to refuse anything of that sort.

But to my surprise, he didn’t even do so much as open the bag. 

Instead, when he entered my office, he just… stood there, looking around at the place. This went on for about a minute or two – I wasn’t keeping exact notice of the time.

At first, I had thought that they were eyeing the various types of medication I had stored. But once he opened his mouth, it became apparent that it was something else entirely that had caught their eye…

“Is that an RCA RP3503 shoebox cassette recorder and player you have back there?” 

My recorder, the one I had used to record my personal record from this morning, the one that I had intended to use to document this meeting… That had been what he noticed first.

It's a bit impressive that they identified the exact model, I must admit. Didn’t help with how much they intimidated me in the slightest, though.

“... Yes? Why do you ask?” 

I had responded. I didn’t want to come off as suspicious to him, but rather, just genuinely interested in the conversation. I couldn’t let them know I had seen their journal.

“It’s not often I see a cassette player in the wild these days. Damn shame, I know that phones and mp3 players are more modern and in ways more convenient, and the typical ‘retro throwback’ audio playing format of choice is vinyl, but I really do have such a soft spot for cassettes.”

Really, I was surprised with just how normal this starting conversation was. If I was to be conspiratory, I could even say that it was too normal, as if he was luring me into some sort of false sense of security with this mundane discussion.

“Do you now?”

I replied, allowing the conversation to carry on.

“Yes! Though, I’d rather not get too sidetracked with all that!”

I remember it felt like a pit had dropped into my stomach when they said that. Here I was thinking I could give myself some time to formulate how I was going to respond to him trying to get answers out of me by fueling this clear interest of his. But it seems that they had caught on to that plan of mine.

“The real reason I pointed it out was to ask… You’re not going to use it to record this meeting of ours… are you?” 

He then asked me.

I wish I had been able to somehow record this meeting on video, because I don’t know if words alone can describe the bone chilling aura that the look Mr. Black had given me as they said those words carried. Somehow, his face managed to darken in real time, a shadow cast over the top half of it that made it look as if his eyes were glowing at that very moment. They had tilted their head ever so slightly as they spoke, their face adorned with a subtle, yet noticeable grin, despite the seeming worry that the question carried with it. 

Considering my line of work, I’m quite familiar with the inhuman, and let me tell you – I saw that inhumanness in this man in that fleeting moment.

Despite wearing what looked to be colored contacts of some kind, I could see in his eyes a wildness that was inherently animalistic. 

I know what Mr. Black is here for, and I know it isn’t treatment. But if I hadn’t known better, I may just have been convinced to hand him a prescription right then and there.

Or maybe he is already something other than human. 

I said no, of course not.

“Good, good.”

I don’t know what came over me, but I responded to that remark by asking him if he didn’t like his life being documented. 

“What an odd question…”

As if I hadn’t already regretted my words the moment they came out of my mouth, I certainly would have after that reaction from him.

I was like Icarus in that moment, my wings equipped as I set myself straight towards the sun. I had pushed my luck too far, and they were catching on that I knew more than I should. Surely.

“But to answer it, I do actually like to document my life. But I much prefer it when I’m the one doing the documentation. I’m sure you wouldn’t be too fond of me if I took your chair right there and started giving people prescriptions and check ups, would you?” 

I’ll admit, I’m not entirely sure what they meant by that comparison. He’s a news reporter, isn’t he? I do suppose in a way that is documenting lives, but that’s much more about others’ lives rather than their own, no? 

Either way, I shook my head no.

“That’s what I thought.” 

I really can’t tell why he was so surprised that “B” kiddo and Serena were intimidated by him. He has to be doing this shit on purpose to get a rise out of people.

“Can we get to the point of this meeting, please?” 

I requested. Maybe if I act just as intimidating, I’ll manage to evade ending up in whatever position he wants me to be in.

“Hmph. We may.”

He seemed unimpressed by my shift in attitude, his grin folding into something of a snarl. But he did oblige. 

“It is to my knowledge that a friend of mine, Serena Holmes, came by your office a little bit under a month ago seeking a Cat HRT prescription from you. You rejected her. Why so?”

Perhaps it was the frown they already had from their reaction to me making demands at him, but I could both see and hear the anger coming off of him that I had seen before in that journal of his as they spoke. 

No matter his motives, it does seem he cares about their friend.

“I had gotten a questionable result when I had run a-”

I answered. I knew it wasn’t the answer he wanted to hear, but I couldn’t let them know I knew that.

As expected, they cut me off mid-sentence.

“No. I want the real reason.” 

Despite my patience being worn quite thin by this point, I took a deep breath in and began to formulate a response to Mr. Black. 

My goal, at least at first, had not been to actually tell him the truth. Rather, it was to make up a lie that was believable enough for them to take it as if it was the truth. 

As I did such, they spoke again, unknowingly giving me a hint as to what route I could go down with this lie of mine. 

“And if you are telling the truth, what was the ‘questionable result' you speak of?” 

Looking back, I should have made use of that hint in my response.

“Okay, fine! You want the real reason? I’ll give you the real reason! I turned Serena away because it was clear to me that she didn’t truly know what it was that she wanted!” 

He had raised an eyebrow at my response, clearly skeptical.

“How… interesting. She seemed pretty dead set on being a cat to me.” 

I honestly couldn’t tell if they believed me or not, but they did act as if they did.

“But I suppose my perspective was skewed.”

In a way, that did give me relief. 

Even if it was a ruse on his end, I could also go along with it and feel confident in my responses, at least for a little while.

“But tell me, Doctor Erian… If that is the true reason you turned Serena away… Then why did you tell her it was due to a background check?”

It was a valid question, honestly, and a hole in the plot I was constructing. Hence why I had said earlier that I wished I had just gone down that background check route he had given me.

“I… I didn’t want her to believe I did not believe she was truly therian.” 

With a bit of hesitation, I sputtered out that excuse.

He wasn’t buying it. I could tell by the glare he had given me.

“Then why not be honest with her? You could have explained that they had simply seemed too unsure of kitself to go through with the procedure. You could have given it advice as to how to do some soul searching so that she could come to find her true self. All these things you didn’t do… Why is that, Doctor Erian?”

Their eyes almost seemed to lock onto me as they questioned me. I was a target for them, lined up for slaughter.

Before I could even try to plead my case, he continued.

“To me, there are only two explanations for this. Either you are bad at your job, or…

You’re lying to me.”

With that final explanation – or rather, accusation, he stood up from where I had him sit and slammed his hands on my desk. To be honest, it shook me quite badly. It wasn’t just the delivery, either, the words cut terribly deep as well.

“So, which is it?”

Deep enough to cause me to make perhaps the stupidest decision I’ve ever made in my entire life.

For I had let my ego and reputation get the best of me.

“... I lied to you.” 

I so stupidly confessed. 

Mr. Black grinned, grinning wider than he ever had by that point of the appointment, as he let out a truly evil cackle.

“I knew it.” 

And with that remark, they pushed aside the chair that was behind them, and walked over to behind my desk.

I yelled out to him that he’s not supposed to be back there, but he completely ignored me as he rummaged through my personal cabinets.

They quickly found exactly what I was hoping they wouldn’t. 

“How curious…!” 

He exclaimed, holding the note Doctor Fortune had given me during my first ever encounter with her in his hands.

I felt like I could have died right then and there.

“Looks to me you know a bit too much for your own good, eh, Erian?” 

He then turned to me, a sinister grin still stretched wide across their face while they held up the note, turned over to the backside where she had drawn that blasted symbol.

I wanted to say something at the time, I really did. But I must admit, I was petrified. It really is embarrassing to look back on. 

“Hmmm… one could argue that I should kill you right about now, make sure you don’t go spreading the good word unmanaged.”

They continued to speak as they crept up behind me.

“I don’t even know what that symbol IS!! All she told me was that it was the symbol of your organization!! She didn’t even tell me what it’s called!!” 

I cried out in desperation. As most people do, I didn’t want to die.

Mr. Black paused. His face softened, somewhat. 

He seemed to have realized that I, for once, was being honest with him.

“Who’s ‘she’?” 

He asked me quite plainly.

“D-Doctor Mirai Fortune… She had come into my office a couple months ago and left this warning for me… We’ve… We’ve been talking over email ever since, but she’s very vague about a lot of things…!” 

I confessed. I confessed all of it. I was convinced that I needed to do so in order to live.

“Is she the reason why you turned Serena away?” 

They looked at me with a look of certainty in what he expected the answer to be. But I answered anyway.

“Yes.”

Mr. Black finally sat back down in the chair across from my desk.

“See, was that really so hard?” 

I did not respond. Really, I am terribly repulsed by his sarcastic demeanor. It tends to come off more as patronizing than anything else. 

“I’d love to see those emails, if you’d be so kind.”

I wordlessly turned around my computer monitor for him to look through. I had the thought to warn them not to go into any patient files, but I didn’t act upon it.

“Hah! She really was as vague as you said, huh?” 

He remarked as he read through the emails. I did not react.

“Though, I do see that she let you get a sneak peek at my notes, hmm?”

An arrow of fear shot through my chest, making me worry that they would be angered by this. But much to my surprise, they had simply laughed it off.

“Hey, how about we make a deal, old man?” 

He offered. 

I looked at them, cueing them to continue. 

“I can give you not just these notes of mine, but ALL of my notes, completely uncensored. Any information on that symbol and what it represents you could possibly desire. A brand new market for your Humanity Removal Therapy… All of it, for one simple little price…~” 

I was skeptical. That was a big claim, a big offer. But I pressed further.

“What’s the price?” 

I asked him.

“Yes, yes… All you need to do to start this new chapter in your life… Is to give Serena her Cat HRT prescription.” 

That… couldn’t possibly be all there was to it. 

That was the singular thought in my mind.

It was too simple. There had to be more to it. 

He mentioned “a new market for Humanity Removal Therapy” – for all I could know, that could mean that they would steal my formula right from under me.

It would put me out of a job!

And I can only imagine what Iris would think…

“No. I’m sorry Mr. Black, but I just can’t do that.” 

I responded to him, knowing fully that it could get me killed.

I couldn’t betray my patients like that, though.

I can’t betray Iris like that.

Sure, we butt heads many times, but I would be nothing without any of them.

And above all, I want to see each and every one of them live their happiest lives.

I saw Mr. Black frown in response to my answer. It was surprisingly genuine. He looked… disappointed.

But as he prepared to talk to me, he smiled ever so slightly.

“So that’s why so many read you as a hardass… You’re a stubborn bastard.” 

He remarked.

Again, without waiting for a response from me, they continued.

“I know the feeling.”

After that, he stood back up, grabbed his things, and left. 

--

February 18th, 2025

The following is an email. 

To: Doctor Theodore H. Erian

From: Doctor Mirai Fortune

Subject: Final Email

Hello, Doctor Erian.

I have both listened to the early morning recording of yourself and the journal entry of later in the day that you provided in your previous email.

I am deeply disappointed in how you have handled the situation.

For your trouble in dealing with them and with me, I have provided you with the documentation our adversary made on that day. Consider it a sense of closure, as this is the last time I will ever be contacting you.

While I am glad you resisted the offer to join them, I cannot afford to have cowardice such as yours weighing me down in my fight against them.

I hope you understand.

Mirai

[ellieluvr420]

Friends? Never. Pt.20 (Ellie Williams x reader)

MASTERLIST (and information about Palestine) Please read!

SYNOPSIS: You and Ellie had been bitter enemies for years now but before that you were best friends. You had always planned to be roommates one day but when that becomes a reality the situation isn't exactly how you both imagined it.

20 chapters of this fic that has my whole heart whoopee! Tysm for the ongoing love on this fic, you all make my days!

₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧   

It was Saturday, the weekend had finally arrived, you and Ellie were looking forward to the day you had planned with Clem. You were going to take her to Joel’s for a little bit as he was always dying to see you all, maybe stop by the park and get some ice cream. It was a perfect day as the sun shone down and cast Jackson in a warm, golden hue; you’d miss summer when it left to be replaced by the cold, short days of winter. There was a certain beauty to winter in Jackson, the pillowy cover of white snow made the whole town look like a beautiful artwork but nothing could beat summer. 

You had all gotten ready and had breakfast together when there was a knock at the door. 

“Oh that can never be good.” You roll your eyes as you walk to the door. 

“Tell ‘em to fuck off whoever they are!” Ellie calls from the kitchen where she was cleaning Clem’s sticky hands from breakfast, you hear Clem’s high-pitched giggles as Ellie joins in, they were going to be the death of you but they never failed to make you laugh. You opened the door and the smile you were wearing immediately dropped as you came face-to-face with Maria whose face told you she had bad news. 

“Hi Maria, everything okay?” Ellie appeared behind you with a puzzled expression as her hand comes to rest on the small of your back. 

“Yeah everything’s fine but we need a last-minute cover on a patrol today, I’m sorry to ask because I know you’ve both been busy with training all week, but I need one of you to fill in on patrol today.” 

“I’ll go.” Ellie pipes up before you can even open your mouth.  

“Okay, thanks Ellie, be at the gates in a half an hour, you should be back by about two so it’s not a long one.” 

“Hold on a minute.” You interrupt before Maria can walk away. “Do you not think we should maybe discuss this first?” You snap at Ellie. 

“There’s no discussion, I’m going, end of.” 

“Who died and made you queen?” Maria backs away from the door slowly as your voice gets progressively angrier and she notes the scowls on each of your faces. 

“Whoever ends up going, be at the gates in half an hour!” She calls. 

“Yeah. Thanks Maria.” You call back sarcastically as you slam the door, following Ellie upstairs as she goes to retrieve her backpack.  

“Stop getting ready to leave! We haven’t even talked about this Ellie.” 

“I’m not talking about it, I’m going, what is so hard to understand about that?” 

“Why are you acting like you’re fucking in charge? We are partners Ellie, you don’t just get to make decisions for us.” 

“Why are you making such a big deal about this?!” 

“Because we have a fucking child! It’s not just us anymore Ellie, if you don’t come back I-” Tears spring in your eyes and she’s quick to rush over to you as her face softens. 

“Hey, hey, I am going to be fine. You heard Maria, I’ll be back by two. Next time, you can go but I’m going this time, okay? Have a nice day with Clem and when I’m back we can go to the pond.” She holds your cheeks and presses your foreheads together as you sniffle in defeat. 

“Please don’t break up. I need you both.” Clem’s voice that mimicked your nasally one sounded out behind you both causing you to spin and rush over to her, scooping her up in your arms and sandwiching her between you as Ellie. 

“Baby no, we’re not breaking up, we were just being silly! Mama and I aren’t going anywhere, pinkie promise.” You hold out your pinkie to her and she smiles as she interlocks hers with yours. 

“I will be back before you even notice I’m gone kiddo.” Ellie assures softly. 

“Pinkie promise?” Her little outstretched pinkie beckons Ellie’s. Pinkie promises had become very important to the three of you, especially Clem, they were her comfort and you both knew that. Ellie glances at you for a second with furrowed eyebrows before fixing a smile onto her face and pinkie promising Clem she’d be back, she genuinely meant it because there’s nothing she wouldn’t do to get back to both of you, it would be the only thought on her mind until she’s back with you. 

₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧   

“There they are! How are y’all doing? Where’s Ellie? Not avoiding me again is she?” Joel’s voice masked his anxiety well as Clem giggled and smiled and jumped into his outstretched arms but you noticed it, the insecurity, the panic, the vulnerability you rarely saw from him. You cast a sympathetic smile his way as he stepped aside to beckon you into his home. 

“No Joel, not at all. Maria came by this morning and said she needed one of us to go on patrol and Ellie being Ellie put her foot down and said she was going. She was annoyed she wouldn’t get to see you but you know what she’s like.” He chuckles and you beam as you see the worry in his eyes dissipate. 

“Sounds like Ellie alright. Well thanks for coming over anyway!” 

“Are you kidding? We’ve been looking forward to this all week, Clem hasn’t stopping going on about seeing you, swear she likes you more than us.” He blushes as his looks at the sweet girl in his arms like she’s an angel. You wondered what it’s like for him, to be around a mini-version of Ellie, though from the look of childish excitement on his face, it was all he could’ve asked for.  

“Clemmy, I’ve got a little surprise for you, you like surprises kiddo?” 

“Yes! Yes! Yes! What is ittttt?” Her excitement is palpable as she squirms around in his arms. You both chuckled at her glee as you followed Joel out to the garden, your mouth dropped open as you see the wooden playset standing tall complete with swings, monkey bars, a wall that she could climb up, and a see-saw. 

“I wanted to put a slide in but I couldn’t find any material that would work oh and don’t worry I varnished it all so no splinters I swear!” Clem hugged him tightly before jumping down from his arms and bounding towards the swings, he watches with stars in his eyes at the girl’s elation. You were completely stunned as you just stared at the set and Clem struggling to decide what to try first. “Do you like it? Is it too much?” His voice sounds next to you and you snap your head to face him as you wrap him in a warm embrace. 

“Joel this is so kind of you! We’ll never be able to get her to leave at this rate, you sure that wasn’t your masterplan?” You pull back and quirk an eyebrow at him comically. 

“Oh no you got me!” He plays along and you genuinely feel so much love for him, he had always been so good to you in your parents downfalls but to see him embrace Clem so sweetly, it made you feel warm, like you were glowing.  

You chatted with Joel as Clem ran herself rampant on the playset until she tottered over with a yawn and came to sit in your lap. “Oh is someone tired?” She nods as she leans into you and rubs her eyes, in fairness to her, she had been playing non stop for at least an hour, though you imagined it was longer than that as time always went quicker when you were with her, it was like you were hypnotised by her, completely entranced by the joy she elicited. “Hm well I guess that means you’re too tired for ice cream then right?” Suddenly her head pops up, her mouth dropped open and her eyes wide as she shakes her head vigorously. 

“No, no, I’m okay, I want ice cream... Wait, what’s ice cream?” You and Joel both laugh heartily at her confusion. 

“Wanna find out?” She nods her head and you beam at her before directing your attention to Joel. “Wanna come with us?” 

“Oh no I shouldn’t, I got stuff to do around the house but you have a nice time.” You both say your goodbyes, Clem hugging Joel extra tight and thanking him over and over again for the playset before you set off into town to get some ice cream with Clem. 

You pass the park and she sprints off towards it before stopping at the gate and begging you with those puppy-dog eyes she had mastered to go in. “My goodness, aren’t you all played out?” 

“Nuh-uhhh! Pleaseee can we go in, please please please.”  

“Of course we can baby, you can do whatever you want!” She jumps up and down before bounding towards the large slide that she goes down at least five times before she shows any sign of being remotely done. You watched and joined in when she beckoned you until she grabbed your hand and led you out of the park.  

“Can we get ice cream now please?” 

“For someone that doesn’t know what ice cream is, you sure want it don’t you?” You chuckle. “Of course we can get ice cream.” Her excitement at the unknown was refreshing as you squeezed her hand and led her towards the small cafe opposite the tipsy bison that did ice cream all throughout the Summer, you remember the first time you had it as a child and you couldn’t wait to share that with Clem. You both walked along enjoying the summer sun until you saw those two snide girls you had beaten up not all that long ago, snickering and pointing at you both. You were planning on ignoring them and hoping Clem didn’t notice but when you looked down at Clem and saw her saddened eyes looking up at you, you knew she had.  

“Mommy, why are they pointing at us?” You squeeze her hand and pull her closer to you. 

“Because they think you are just sooo cute they can’t help but point it out for everyone to see, you are that cute baby.” She smiles and you hope you can just walk past them without any drama but from the hateful sneers and the way their course changed directly towards you, you knew you were being naive. 

“How are they letting you freaks have kids now?” The blonde one snarked. 

“Poor thing, having dykes for parents.” The brunette one added. You swore you wouldn’t engage, you promised yourself you’d set a good example, but they took it too far, you open your mouth to spew a series of hateful comments, refraining from killing them in front of Clem because that was not an option unfortunately, but Clem beat you to it as she crossed her arms over her chest defensively while stomping her foot. 

“You shut up! You’re both ugly and smelly and my mommies are better than both of you!” She screeched and as they went to laugh she kicked them both in the shin causing them to keel over and hiss in pain. 

“You little bitch! Guess you do deserve them.” The brunette one groaned as she spoke. 

“Fuck off.” You spit at them as you scowl. 

“Yeah, fuck off!” Clem mimics you and suddenly you understood why Ellie found it so funny when Clem swore. You scooped her up and walked off leaving the girls still on the floor as you and Clem high-five with cheeky giggles. “Do I still get ice cream? I know it’s bad to swear.” She looks guilty and you can’t help but smile. 

“Oh, you get an extra big ice cream baby. But don’t tell mama I’m rewarding this because she will never let me live it down.” She giggles and nods as you walk into the cafe. You put her down and let her run over to the counter where Grace, the older woman who always worked there since you can remember was waiting and smiling. 

“Ice cream please!” She squeals. 

“What flavour honey? Vanilla, chocolate or strawberry?” Clem looks back at you clearly unsure of her answer. 

“All three please!” You answer for her and as she’s handed the cone with the scoops piled high, she looks like she’s one the lottery. “Thanks Grace.” 

“Thank you!” You both walk off to sit in a booth in the shop as she just stares at the cone.  

“You gotta lick it honey.” She makes an O sound with her mouth before beginning to devour the ice cream, ecstasy painted all over her face as well as ice cream that was now spread all over her cheeks, she even had a little streak on her forehead somehow. You watched as she savoured every last bit until she was only left with the cone. “You can eat the cone too.” She gasped and took a bite of the cone, barely giving herself a second to breathe as she delved into the rest of it until the only traces of the ice cream left was all over her face and hands. She stuck her palms out to you with a grimace as she chuckled. 

“I’m all sticky!” 

“Yeah, it looks like your face got more of the ice cream than your mouth silly! I’ll get some napkins and we can clean you up huh?” She nodded and you slid out of the booth to grab some napkins, returning to the messy kid and doting on her like she’s an extension of you because to you, she was. You each chatted about everything and nothing until you looked at the time and realised Ellie would be back soon. “Wanna go wait for mama to get back?” 

“Yes!” You both take your leave, saying goodbye to Grace as you exited before starting a slow stroll to the gates. You arrived just as they were closing and you spotted Ellie climbing down from Shimmer in a heartbeat, she was back and she was okay. As she spotted you, she handed one of the stable hands Shimmer’s reins and rushed over to you both, scooping Clem into her arms with a small wince and pecking your lips as you hugged them both. As you looked at her up-close, you noticed the black eye she was sporting as well as a few other bruises and cuts, her eyes tired and her body a little shaky. You wordlessly communicated as you took Clem from her arms and brushed a gently hand over her cheek. “You okay babe?” 

“Better now I’m back with you.” She kissed your cheek and as you heard a small sniffle from Clem you both looked at the now crying girl in concern. “Kiddo, what’s up?” 

“Are you gonna die?” 

“What? No baby, of course not. I promise I am just fine.” 

“But you look bad.” 

“Nothing like a kid’s honesty eh?” She flashes a lop-sided smile at you before pouting a little. 

“How about we go home and you can help me make Mama all better Clemmy?” 

“Okay.” She dragged out meekly before you all set off back home, Clem holding Ellie’s hand as you wrapped an arm around her waist to support her. She was okay but she was definitely tired as she limped subtly, you’d go to the pond tomorrow, today she needed to rest. 

₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧   

“Wanna help me put a band-aid on mama?” You had already cleaned Ellie’s cuts, Clem didn’t look quite so scared now as Ellie looked a lot better with the dried blood and grime gone but Clem still hid behind you slightly. You could tell Ellie was saddened by it as her eyes begged Clem to not be afraid, the whole scene was hard to watch. “Clem, why don’t you go get your markers for me hm? I’ll finish patching up Mama.” She nodded and ran off to get her markers as you squeezed Ellie’s hand. “You know it’s only because she’s worried about you right?” 

“She’s scared of me.” 

“She’s not babe. You’ll see, she just sees you’re hurt and she doesn’t like that, neither do I. I’m mad at Maria to be honest, I’m mad at Jackson, I’m getting sick of this shit.” 

“What do you mean?” 

“I had a run-in with Petra and Suze again today, called us dykes in front of Clem, I feel suffocated in Jackson sometimes, I mean, this place is as close as it gets to normal these days and still there’s so much hate, just pisses me off.” 

“Sorry babe, are you okay?” 

“I’m fine, Clem kicked them both, I had to stop myself from falling over laughing.” 

“Oh my god she’s so much like me.” 

“I know, I thought the same thing.” 

“Poor you huh?” 

“I’m the luckiest girl in the world.” You press a sweet kiss to her lips as Clem walks back in the room with her markers. “Clemmy, Mama wants you to draw on her band-aids, you wanna do that?” She smiles and nods as she climbs into Ellie’s lap, cupping her cheeks with her small hands. 

“You promise you’re okay Mama?” 

“Pinkie.” They pinkie promise and Clem hugs her tightly before excitedly flicking through her coloured pens to draw on the assortment of plasters you had put on Ellie. Ellie’s face relaxes as Clem seemed back to normal around her and she smiled at you warmly as she held your hand, rubbing circles into your palm with her thumb. 

tags: @emiliabby @readbydayana @radioheadfan699 @lil-elliesgf @isitadinosaur @amberputh @maelovescashew @a-little-bit-of-everybody @moonspowder

[darkshelbyfiction]

The Price to Pay (Cillian Murphy Blurb)

Warning: Dubious Consent

When you arrived in New York, at the tender age of eighteen, you never thought that life could be so cruel. You had just completed your freshman year, and an internship at a top-notch talent agency seemed like the perfect opportunity to gain some real-world experience.

You were keen to get your foot in the door of the acting world, having a fondness for drama throughout your adolescence. Who knew that this internship would plunge you into the depths of a depraved, immoral world in which you were nothing more than a plaything for the rich and famous?

"You know how women in this business get ahead, don't you?" your employer , a sleazy, overweight man named Harold, leered at you during your first week at the agency. "It's all about who you know and what you're willing to do for them," he said, suggestively licking his lips and letting his eyes roam freely over your petite figure.

"I am not going to do this kind of thing. I never even had a boyfriend before. This is disgusting!" you told Harold, thinking that this would shut him up but, much to your surprise, a week later, he made you a proposal.

"I have a client who is rather famous . I think he could help boost your career. I just need a small favor in return," he said with a sly smile.

You felt the hairs on the back of your neck stand up as your gut twisted in dread.

"What kind of small favor?" you cautiously asked and Harold became rather direct. 

" Well, that client of mine has requested a meeting with you. Unfortunately, he cannot keep his hands off young, attractive girls like yourself and you are most certainly his type. And if you want to get anywhere in this industry, you need to play the game."

"So, you're offering me a choice between my integrity and my career aspirations? That's just great." You muttered, feeling a heavy weight settle in the pit of your stomach.

"Come on Y/N, all you need to do is spread your legs for two hours or so and let him stick  his prick inside you and then you'll be on your way to stardom," Harold said with a drunken grin.

You were disgusted at the thought, but you were also aware of your own naivety. You only had $100 in your bank account, and you couldn't afford to pay your rent or tuition. You knew that if you didn't take this job, you'd be back at square one.

"Okay , I'll do it," you said reluctantly, your voice barely above a whisper, causing Harold to grin triumphally before setting up the date.

"If you see Lisa, she will tell you what to expect. She slept with him a couple of times before to get parts in movies," Harold added and it was indeed what you did. 

Lisa was just one year older than you and had acted in several movies and Cillian was one of them. She too had sex with influential men to get ahead in her career. She looked young, but her eyes held a thousand stories you could never compete with, and you were grateful to have her guidance.

"He was the first guy I ever slept with. I had just turned 18. It was on his 46th birthday and Harold organised it," Lisa began, her voice barely above a whisper.

"And you never had sex before?" you asked Lisa , your voice wavering slightly as you struggled to process this new information.

She chuckled lightly and shook her head. "No, I was as nervous as you are and I think that is what gets him off the most. He likes being the first ," Lisa shared, her voice monotonous and distant. "I slept with him a few times, but the first time was the hardest. I remember staring at the ceiling, feeling his body on top of me and knowing that I could never get that moment back. I was vulnerable, and he knew it. I don't think I even uttered a sound, except for a slight whimper when he pushed in to me."

"God, the pain was unbearable," she continued, her voice low and filled with a heavy dose of shame. "I remember he came inside me, so much so that it ran down my legs and I was so sore the next day that I could barely walk when I auditioned for a show. But I kept my mouth shut," Lisa said, her voice trailing off. "I knew what I had to do to make it in this industry, and I was determined to do whatever it took."

The following day it was your turn to do whatever it took.

The door clicked shut as Harold left you alone in Cillian's luxurious penthouse suite after delivering you there and making the necessary introduction.

The silence was crushing as you took in your surroundings. Your pulse raced, your palms slick with sweat, as you nervously glanced about the elegantly decorated space. A beautifully carved wooden headboard, perfectly positioned to overlook the sparkling skyline, drew your attention, your heart sinking as you realized this is where the violating act would take place.

"Would you like a drink to calm your nerves?" Cillian asked you as you stood there trembeling  , staring at the plush carpet. His voice was smooth and silky, a complete contrast to the rough and raw pontential of what he was about to do to your young, innocent body.

"I-I don't know..." you stuttered, unsure of how to respond as he assessed you, his manhood already straining against the expensive fabric of his trousers.

The idea of a drink repulsed you, but the thought of being alone with him in such an exposed state made your stomach turn. Reluctantly, you nodded, and he waved a hand towards the ornate bar in the corner of the room.

As he poured out a glass of amber liquid, you tried to steady your shaking hands. Liquid courage, that's what you needed. You took a tentative sip and felt the burn of the alcohol course down your throat, warming your trembling body.

"Harold tells me that you just turned eighteen and looking to make a name for yourself in this industry," Cillian said smoothly, his eyes fixed on your slender frame.

You nodded slowly, wondering where this was heading. Your mind raced with questions, but your fear kept you silent.

"Well, if you are good girl for me , I can definitely help you with that," Cillian said, his voice dripping with lewd intentions as he guided you towards the bed .

Your mouth went dry as you tried to shake your head, to protest, but your voice was caught in your throat. You knew what was coming next, and you couldn't stomach it.

"I don't really want to do this ," you stammered, your voice trembling.

"I know, but think of all the opportunities this could bring you, " Cillian purred, inching closer to you before he wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you closer to him.

"Come on, I will be gentle and promise it won't be that bad, " he whispered, nuzzling your neck.

"It's just, I never had sex before, " you confessed, your voice barely above a whisper.

"Even better, " Cillian murmured, his hand reaching up to cup your breast, giving it a squeeze through your dress. "This means that I get to pop that cherry of yours," he told you and you gasped as his other hand slid down your body, making its way beneath your dress.

He slipped his fingers beneath your panties, groaning as he felt your bald , shaved pussy. "Fuck, your hole is tiny," he growled, his fingers now tracing your slit.

"P-please don't do this," you stuttered, feeling tears spill from your eyes as a fresh wave of fear and resistance flooded through you.

"Sshhh, it's alright," he murmured, his mouth suddenly on yours again, kissing you hungrily as his fingers played with your labia. "I know you are scared, but just relax and let it happen."

His words were muffled as he spoke them around your lips and tongue, his fingers now dipping between your folds, exploring you gently and curiously, like a man trying something for the first time.

"Now why don't you take your clothes off for me," he murmured, as he pulled away from your mouth, his oceanic eyes meeting yours.

You hesitated for a moment, your heart pounding in your chest and your hands trembling with fear and anxiety, but the threat of his looming presence, towering over you, made your compliance instinctive.

You undid the buttons of your shirt slowly, his gaze devouring your young body with each piece of clothing you shed and, eventually, all you were wearing was some white cotton panties featuring a small stain of blood from when he had fingered you.

It was that innocence that excited him the most.

"Such a good girl," he praised you, sliding his hand over your collarbone and down your chest. You quivered under his touch, wishing you could disappear. Your fear mingled with disgust as his finger traced the outline of your breast, lingering on your nipple, hardening it. "Harold wasn't wrong. You are a stunning little thing."

Your skin crawled at his words, but you remained frozen, submissive under his touch, too paralyzed with fear to fight back.

He undressed himself quickly, revealing his toned physique, exaggerated by the soft glow of the dimmed lights. He was completely naked now, and you gasped at the size of his manhood.

"Lie down, sweetie," he commanded, and you obeyed and, with a shivering body, laid down on the large bed while he stroked his cock provocatively.

'Spread your legs for me,' he ordered and with a deep breath, you obeyed. You heard him gasp at the sight of your pure, perfect body before him. He noticed your blood-stained panties and his chest heaved at the prospect of claiming your innocence.

"Ah, sweetie, I see your panties are stained from when I fingered that virgin hole of yours. Let's have a look at it, shall we?" he drawled as he reached for the hem of your panties, slowly sliding them down your legs. He paused for a second, marveling at your bare pussy, the folds pink and tight. "Perfect," he murmured as he spread your legs wider, exposing your bleeding slit to the cool air of the room.

He then ran his fingers over your blood soaked slit , causing you to whimper at the intrusive sensation.

"Such a tight little thing you are," he growled as he slipped a finger into your channel, pushing against the barrier of your virginity before pulling it out and wiping it on the sheets.

"It's going to be a snug fit ," he mused, admiring the sight of you lying there, exposed and vulnerable under his gaze. Your skin was flushed, your pulse quickened at his words. He was sizing you up, like a predator would its prey, and you couldn't help but feel like a lamb led to the slaughter.

"Well, let's see if we can stretch that hole a bit, shall we?" he smirked, climbing on top of you. His legs pinned yours down, spreading them wider apart.

The head of his thick cock nudged against your slick entrance, causing you to be startled by its girth and you squirmed under his weight, his hands gripping your hips fiercely, preventing you from moving.

"Wait," you whimpered, your voice trembling with uncertainty and fear. He looked down upon you, his piercing gaze holding your own. "Aren't you going to wear a condom?" you asked, swallowing hard and looking up at him with wide, scared eyes. 

"No, I want to feel you bare. It's so much better that way," he replied eagerly while running the head of his cock over your slit. 

"But, I'm not on birth control," you stammered, realizing how foolish it was to say such a thing at this point.

He smiled and braced his arms on either side of your head. "That's okay. I will give you the morning after pill when we are done," he whispered, before he began pushing the tip of his swollen cockhead against your entrance. The pressure of the head pressing against your innocence made you squirm and protest underneath him, but he didn't heed your pleas.

"Oh god, it hurts ," you cried out as he pushed in another inch, stretching your cherry to the brink.

"I know. It's alright . Just relax, baby," Cillian whispered soothingly, despite knowing that the pain was inevitable. "You are such a good girl for me," he told you , as he began pushing deeper, slowly and deliberately, tearing through the thin barrier of your innocence.

You couldn't help but let out a yelp, a combination of surprise, pain, and discomfort, as you lay there beneath him, legs trembling, hands fisted at your sides, nails digging into the luxurious sheets of the elegant suite. Your whole body tensed, tears streaming down your face, as he kept pushing forward until his entire length was buried deep inside of you, groaning out in pleasure.

"Fuck, you're so tight. I knew it was going to be good, but goddamn," Cillian muttered, starting to thrust in a slow, deliberate rhythm, savouring the feeling of your virginity tightly wrapped around his cock.

"Please...it hurts," you whimpered, trying to hold back the tears as you felt your body stretched and invaded beyond belief.

"Just relax and let me stretch you out," he grunted, slamming all the way inside of you, filling you up with his thick, swollen cock.

Your tight pussy burned with a throbbing sensation, your body still adjusting to the sheer size that was previously unknown to your innocent body.

Cillian smirked as he felt your virginity broken, your blood glazing the length of his shaft.  You cried out in pain, your fingers digging into the plush fabric of the bedsheets beneath you. He reveled in your discomfort, savoring the feeling of your tight pussy clenching around him as he thrust deeper into your young, innocent body.

"God, you feel so fucking good," he grunted, his hips driving into yours with a ferocity that made your breath catch in your throat.  "Look at me while I fuck you."

You yelped in pain, tears streaming down your cheeks as he mercilessly thrust himself into you, ripping through your innocence. Your young, untouched body screamed in protest, but Cillian showed no remorse.

"I am going to cum deep inside you," he growled, his hips slamming roughly against yours.

You felt disgusted, helpless as he ravaged your body, pushing himself to the hilt with each brutal thrust.

He grabbed your wrists, pinning them above your head as he buried himself deep inside of you. You whimpered softly, fighting the urge to cry as the pain intensified.

"Almost done , little one," Cillian grunted, breathing heavily as he slammed into you forcefully. With a final groan, he ejaculated, releasing himself deep inside your tight channel.

It felt like a burning hot poker stabbing you relentlessly, the sensation unbearable. The intimacy of his release within you made you shudder from its intensity. The aroma of his sweat hung heavy in the air, mingled with an undercurrent of blood - your blood, invading your innocence and leaving a trail of crimson on the creases of your thighs.

His grip on your wrists slackened, allowing you to wriggle free from his grasp and when he pulled out of you, you could feel his semen oozing out, coating your inner thighs in a slick, wet mess.

The pain radiated through your body with a vengeance, and you couldn't help but wince as you shifted on the bed, the sheets sticking to your damp skin.

"There are towels in the bathroom," Cillian said casually, gesturing towards the en-suite with a nod. "Clean yourself up."

A flush rose to your cheeks, as you looked away from him, the embarrassment lodging itself in your throat like a fist.

You had heard stories of young girls like yourself being taken advantage of in the entertainment industry, but you never thought it would happen to you. 

When you stood up quietly, you felt his cum leak out of your pussy, a mix of pain, discomfort and shame pulsing through your veins. Your muscles protested as you walked on shaky legs towards the en-suite bathroom. Once inside, you locked the door behind you, and stared at your reflection in the mirror. 

You cleaned up , using a warm washcloth to wipe the cum and bloodstains from your thighs, feeling the painful throb radiate from within and when you retreated from the bathroom, Cillian handed you a packet containing a single pill.

"Take this. It's the morning-after pill. Make sure to take it tonight. Filming starts tomorrow," Cillian said, his tone flat.

His words echoed in your ears as you took the pills from him, feeling numb with shock and disgust. You wanted to scream and shout, to tell him that he had no right to do this to you. But all you could manage was a weak "thank you" before turning away from him and gathering your things. 

[generalpenguinangel]

Apple

Summary: Teenage River visits his mother in France.

Adult language

No warnings

Gen

746 words

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

When River arrives, the house is dark and empty. He floats through it like a ghost, present without leaving an imprint anywhere. Two days later, the door opens. He recognizes his mother's tinkling laughter. He's not sure if the brittle note was always there or if he just didn't notice it as a boy.

The burble of a conversational duet flows closer and then they stumble into the kitchen, where he’s sitting at the table. After a minute the man starts sliding his hand up under his mother's skirt and he realizes that if he doesn't announce his presence, they're never going to realize he's there. Zero situational awareness. He coughs and they jump apart.

“Oh! River! What are you doing here? You scared me half to death skulking there.”

He gets straight to the point. “Where were you?”

“At a party down the coast. Marvelous people. Marvelous wine. Some of the Cannes crowd, you know.” River really did not know. She paused a moment, taking in his presence. “What are you doing here?” River felt the genuine confusion of her question like a blow, hot poisonous shame immediately flooding his body. Again. Not fucking again. How does he keep falling for this trap? Stupid stupid stupid.

“I'm visiting you. We had agreed…” he heard the choked sound in his voice and hated himself for it. He cleared his throat. “You agreed that I would come visit at the term break....”

“Oh! Is that this week!?”

“Yes. Obviously.”

“Oh." Her face fell. "It's just, we hadn't exactly planned on you, darling. Gavin's friends...they have the yacht in port at Monaco... Well, it's not exactly an event for children…”

“I'm not a child.”

“I just wouldn't want you to be bored. You understand, don't you?”

“Oh River, don't be like that. Maybe you could come back next week?”

His shoulders tensed as he pulled into himself. “You don't want me hanging around ruining your image, you mean.”

“I have school next week.”

“You could miss a few days to see your own mother, surely?”

“I have O Levels prep”, he muttered.

“And that's a higher priority than me?” She managed to sound extravagantly wounded.

“You make everything a higher priority than me! Do you even remember I exist when I'm not around?”

Boyfriend #178 stepped toward River, a hand extended, and placed his arm between them like a boxing referee. 

"Now son" he started but River turned on him before he could get his platitude out.

“When I need your input I'll ask her for your credit card number.”

“Have some respect for your elders”, his mother hissed. River turned his scowl back on her.

“You're a fucking bitch.”

“Now look here you little shit, I know I'm not your father but I'll be damned if I let you speak to her that way.”

“Jokes on you, mate. I don't even have a father.”

“You do,” Isobel interjected hotly.

“Could have fooled me”, he shrugged.

“You're just like him”, she muttered, lip curling almost imperceptibly. But River saw it. It was hard to shake old habits and his included frequently scanning his mother's face for signs of gathering weather.

“Whatever. Bye.” He scraped the chair back roughly and went to collect his things, flipping a two finger salute over his shoulder as he left the room. When he got upstairs, he packed slower than he needed to, to give her a chance to come find him. Apologize. Yell at him. Anything. An hour later, he left without a word. No one tried to stop him.

Three days later, he opened the kitchen door in Tunbridge Wells.

“You're back early, River!”

His grandmother was in the kitchen,  busy at the counter. He could smell food. His stomach rumbled audibly. The pocket money he'd left with hadn't been meant to cover two and a half unscheduled days in Paris on the way back and he hadn't exactly been on three squares.

“Yeah. Mum got busy, so.” Rose put an arm around him. 

“She does get busy, sometimes”, she said in a knowing tone. 

“Yeah.” It came out as a sigh.

“Your grandfather's out in the garden. I'm sure he could use some help.”

“Okay. Thanks Nan,” he mumbled around the piece of bread she'd handed him. He opened the door again, wondering if his cover story about what happened in France would make it past the OB's radar. He was finding lately that he was better at lying than he would have given himself credit for.

[tarithenurse]

Inhuman

Fandom: MCU Pairing: Loki x fem!reader, eventually Stucky, more (some canon, some not). Word count: 1943. Contents: Preparations, admissions. A/N: Any questions are welcome. Please comment and like and reblog. Let me know if you want a tag.

Chapter 58

... Reader’s PoV ...

You’re rummaging through the kitchen for yet another snack when a gruff mutant appears who you recognize from the files. Logan. Even if it’s not lit, he’s still chewing on a cigar-stump as if his life depended on it. This means they have arrived with their plane although you haven’t heard the arrival.

“You.” It sounds like a growl when he talks.

Grabbing an apple you turn to face the mutant. “You don’t trust me.”

“Genius, ain’t ya?” He’s looking around the place, searching for something.

“Drinks are in the bottom cabinet…over there,” you point him in the right direction before heading towards the door.

He calls after you just before the door swings shut. “Just scored some points there, bubba.”

Gnawing on the apple, you wander the halls, looking for something to do. There seems to be a lot of activity in the war room, so that’s where she goes. Stepping through the doors, it’s clear that something has happened, as orders are flying about, most of them coming from Steve, who is the centre of the storm. Bucky leaning quietly against a desk, one boot resting on the other and arms crossed over his chest, as he studies the hubbub. Weaving over to him, you have to restrain yourself from reclaiming the spot where you used to belong next to him.

“What’s going on?”

“New ETA on the enemy vessel. It should pass Mars the day after tomorrow, which would give us an opportunity to grab it before risking people down here.” Despite the information, the former soldier is emanating the type of calm you have come to associate with his tactical mode.

You do not share the cool, reserved confidence. “So when are we going?”

Looking at you directly for the first time, Bucky shakes his head. “You’re not going anywhere.”

...

It’s crowded indoors with so many people at the Bunker. The Guardians have made themselves comfortable and are, for the most part, helping out as much as they can with the work on one of the quinjets and the X-men’s long, black plane. Both Rocket and Tony are having a field-day, exploring the technology while they ignore almost anything Beast, the blue fuzz-ball, tries to explain. He is the one who has invented the thing, and he is rather protective of it. The only mediator between the two parties is Bruce whose temperament and precision is very similar to Hank McCoy’s although his field of interest is different.

So there is McCoy, or Beast. And Logan of course, even though he keeps to himself. Storm, who appears to be the one calling the shots among them, has bonded surprisingly fast with Thor over their meteorological abilities.

Yes, it’s busy. In an attempt to escape the churning activity, you slip out the door. You have wrapped yourself up in a scarf and sweater beside the training gear and heads towards the small gravel road leading into the forest. Finding a rhythm in a light jog, you almost think you have escaped.

“Wait up!”

Steve. You are tempted to carry on, might even be able to outrun him now, but his presence always brings a sort of calm. He never doubted me after London. When he catches up, you find a pace fitting both of you.

The man is not one for small talk. “So how are you?”

“Okay…all things considered.” It’s non-committal but you can’t give a better answer than that.

Nodding gravely, he says nothing for a while. The muscles in his jaw are working hard and a deep furrow has appeared between his eyebrows.

“So…uhm…” His struggle to formulate his thoughts and his uncertainty is unusual.

In one of the trees, a squirrel is tugging itself further into its den, oblivious to the increasingly awkward atmosphere outside. “So?”

“It’s just…a lot of things have happened and it might not look positive right now...” He flails an arm helplessly. “But I think it’ll be alright. We have a strong team.”

“So what afterwards? Is that what you are wondering?” Yeah…what then?

“Well yeah. You and…Buck…” Steve looks almost desperate, trying to breach a subject so personal. “After all this…are you going to try…again…?”

Slowing to a walk, you allow yourself to think it through. “Are you asking for him or for yourself?” A strong blush spreads across his face. “On your behalf, I guess.”

Every interaction you have witnessed between the two old friends is quickly re-evaluated. All the times one has talked about or looked at the other appears different suddenly. Steve wasn’t just protective when Buck and I started dating…he was…jealous?

“Can’t blame me for caring. He’s my friend.” An almost indiscernible hesitation sneaks in before the last word.

“Steve…” you try to sound kind, “Bucky is more than a friend to you…isn’t he?”

You’ve stopped but the blond man is still pacing, fists clenched tightly as a shield in front of his abdomen. His shoulders are shaking despite the many deep breaths he hauls in. When he finally does turn to face you, Steve’s blue eyes are wet and big with a mixture of realization and fear.

“When I was lying there…in London...” His voice is shaky and he has to swallow hard before being able to continue. “I knew I wouldn’t die but all I could think of was what it’d do to Buck if I did. For years, he’d been gone from my life and it had been like a part of me was missing…the idea of him having to be alone…I…I…”

You already know what he is trying to say. “You can say it. It’s okay.”

“I…love him.” A solitary bird takes off, but otherwise the forest is calm in the wintry gloom. Breathing the cold air freely it’s clear to see that a stone has fallen from the former Captain’s chest.

“Does he or Sharon know?” That’s a couple of conversations you don’t envy him having to make.

Sending a small stone flying with a kick, Steve is back to fretting. “How could I? I know it’s the right thing to do…but in my time, this sort of…attraction was frowned upon…I haven’t told anyone before now.”

“You have to tell them, even if it’s hard.”

“They’ll hate me.” The thought alone is enough to make him pale.

“Not if they really do care about you.” Patting his arm, you try to smile encouragingly. “Start with Sam, if you need more backup. And remember that the truth always is better.”

Steve’s just about to answer, when a big shadow falls over them and with it comes a cackling sound.

“TO YOUR LEFT!”

Dumbfounded, Steve and you stare after the glowing exhaust of Sam, before the man touches down a hundred meters further up ahead the road. Almost soundlessly, the wings fold into the contraption strapped to his back, and a broad smile flashes white underneath the red-tinted goggles.

“Go get him, tiger.”

…

Time seemed to fly by before the mixed team left on an intercept course through space, but now that they are gone the minutes drag by in slow motion. All the guardians have left in there spaceship together with Tony, Bucky, Thor, Wanda, Vision, and Natasha.

It was with some trepidation for some of them, that they took off. Not because of the odds they are facing in terms of actually catching the spy alive, rather because of the mind boggling prospect of space travel. Once they make it out of the Earth’s gravitational pull, they are going to perform something Rocket calls a ‘jump’.

Space. It’s been years since humans learned they aren’t alone in the universe. Logically, it always made sense that there would be some form of life somewhere, the big question had always been if it was intelligent (compared to human standards) and friendly. The latter turned out to not necessarily be the case.

You have listened to the stories Thor has told and even Banner has tried to explain what he has seen while he was gone…but really? Stories can only relay a fraction of the wonders. Something is itching in you to get out there and explore. On the other hand you feel uneasy simply by the thought of your own upcoming destination. Uranus’ moon. Somehow, the rag-tag team of heroes will have to make a final stand there and win the battle, hoping that Earth will be spared in the process. Not the reason most people had to travel among the stars.

It will be a long time before the astronauts are back in range assuming everything goes well, and to use the waiting time for something, Clint has taken Steve and a quinjet to visit the Barton-family and Pepper, who is staying on the farm as well. I wonder if they have cows? You don’t even know if it’s a real farm and you have a hard time imagining Clint feeding chickens or anything like that.

In the hangar, Hank McCoy is entertaining himself with all the toys needed to upgrade the X-men jet in accordance with Rocket’s specs, and his two friends felt it was safe to leave him while they returned to the school.

Entering the living room, you aren’t surprised to find Sharon sitting on the couch with the feet up on the table. Several empty beer bottles are littering the smooth surface, and the blond woman doesn’t seem to have had any company.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to intrude.” You turn to leave but are halted by a request to sit down.

Sharon’s voice is hoarse. “I’d like some…company.” She still hasn’t looked up but you know the eyes you’d see would be red and puffy. “I guess you know…about Steve and me…”

Sinking onto the soft cushions, you can’t say much to stop the pain of the other woman. “He told you.” It’s not a question.

“Yeah.” A sniffle breaks the silence, while the heartbroken woman turns the bottle in her hands. “I’m not even surprised…or mad.” She scoffs at her own words. “No. I’m mad, just not at Steve.”

“Why not?” The question is tentative, gentle in it’s own right.

“Because I should have seen it a long time ago. He dropped everything to get a chance at saving Buck.” Chugging the last beer, she places the now empty bottle hard on the table. “I’m just stupid for thinking –”

“You’re not stupid…and for what it’s worth, he probably does love you…” Just not in the way you need him to.

Sharon opens two beers, handing one over to you. “I’m sure you are right. He’s perfect, so of course he does.” Downing half of the bitter liquid, she shakes her head. “Well, at least I know it wasn’t me that was the problem. And now…I’ve resorted to drink it away in a binge. Classy move.”

“There are worse things you could do…” Probably not the ethical thing to say as a nurse.

“What did you do?” The agent leans back to study you.

Yeah, that’s not something I’m about to tell anyone the specifics of. “Wine, long bath…then bury myself in work.”

It’s not untrue…it’s just not all of the story but Sharon seems to accept it. “Worth a shot. And maybe find someone to hook up with.” Choose carefully. She has gotten up to leave. “You should try that if your plan hasn’t helped yet.”

“Yeah, well…I doubt that is an option at the moment.” Already did…won’t happen again…

“Oh, you’d have the chance if you took it. I’ve seen how he looks at you.” Sharon smiles crooked as she reaches the door. “You know who I mean.”

[albrightnow]

Frequencies

Blinkspace flights get boring. Sure, sometimes Sarah is contracted to travel to a planet beyond the blinkgate - that’s mostly just travel through the dead space between stars, but it at least gives her time to catch up on a telenovela or two. There’s nothing going on, for days at a time, and she can handle that. But blinkspace flights mostly consist of taking ships back and forth through blinkgates. Waiting around for cargo to be loaded or unloaded, waiting around for your callsign to be called to take off or land, waiting around for crew or passengers to embark or disembark. But Christ the Buddha forfend you’re even a minute late when other people are done making you wait.

She can’t nap, she can’t watch TV, she can’t do anything to relax. She just has to wait on standby. It sucks, and the tension combines with the constant source of caffeine NL422 Sarah Albright provides herself to leave her feeling wired and twitchy.

The radio helps.

Well. Most pilots call it a radio, but it really hasn’t been a radio for hundreds of years; funny how names stick like that. It’s really more like a basic low-amplitude omnihook designed to keep working on bare minimum power, with basically no features other than sending and receiving audio on open channels. Simple, reliable, and built tough enough to survive a meteor strike. Allegedly. Not that Sarah wants to test that one.

Still. As she waits for her seventh flight of the day to clear through the backlog of blinkgate traffic, she twists the analog dial on the top of the omnihook. Static, static, static.

“Alrighty folks you're listening to one-twenty-one-point-five The GUARRRRRRD, bringing you the latest in deep space disasters, piracy, and tragedies! Coming up next, four more hours of nonstop cat sooooounds!”

She keeps twisting the dial.

“-l passengers, we will be arriving at Nairamdal Station in a little over thirty minutes. Please be aware that due to nearlight time dilation, the time of our arrival will be galac…” A pause. “...I am SO fucking sorry.” There’s the click of a transmitter turning off, and Sarah snorts a laugh. Wrong dial, mate. She’s been there.

Sarah goes back to channel-surfing.

“This is IPS-N contracted vessel Venn Diagram reporting my last known position. Encountered an unexpected meteor storm, the nearlight drive has taken heavy damage and–”

“--Hey, ND785, you busy?” “Same old, same old.” “Remember that sushi place on Elbert?” “The one that gave me food poisoning?” “HAHA, yeah. We should go back there next time we’re both in Rocky Mountain, their calamari was–”

“--Votive. Seven. Two. One. One. Instinct. Four. Seventeen. One. Spiral. Sixteen. Three. Nine. Message repeats. Votive–”

“--will always find you, like it’s written in the stars. You can run but you can’t–”

“--Union is a lie! They feed you the promises of a utopia, but it’s all bullshit! Free food, free medicine, and all you have to do is not ask what They put inside it! But I’m asking. It’s Soylent Green, people. Our Ancestors know, our ancestors predicted it, that’s why They had to kill them all with the Fall. But we got the knowledge back, if you know where to look for it. It’s all there. Microchips, Project Duplivox, food supplements, contrails, constellar reality, Mattica, it’s all there. They don’t want you to know the truth! They want to silence me! But I will never–” “Hey, man, shut up.” “See? SEE?! Change frequencies if you don’t want to hear the truth, if you’re not ready to know, Union shill! But I’m not going anywhere. I’ll always be–”

Sarah twists the dial one final time, and ends up on…some sort of Karrakin station playing polka music. The people who play music over these channels are probably the weirdest. No, okay, that’s a lie. The weird conspiracy guys are the weirdest.

She taps her goncharovs against the dashboard of her ship to the beat of the music. Until, just like that, the waiting light flicks off and she receives a message from the blinkgate tower control NHP. She’s cleared to blink, finally.

As she pilots her ship forwards, sending it gliding towards the vast portal of nonspace she calls her income stream, the sound of the polka distorts slightly. Bends, in ways that don’t quite make sense.

The nose of the ship touches the portal.

“--the funny thing about blinkspace is that it’s like a dream. You’re here forever, and here for no time at all. It’s so real that it replaces whatever life you had before. Think about it. In dreams, whatever reality they impose becomes all you know. You should know that blinkspace travel is instant. That there’s no way you could hear all this. But in the logic of the dream, it makes perfect sense. You don’t even question it. Because time is a realspace concept. It doesn’t have any place here. You could live a whole different life here, buried in the never-was. It would feel more real than anything you’ve ever known–”

STOP.

“--But the moment you open your eyes, it’s gone.”

Sarah switches off the omnihook, and squeezes her eyes shut for a moment. Her vision started blurring after that last jump, and now there’s a fuzzy grey haze over her vision.

She’s okay. She probably just didn’t get enough sleep last night. 

But she knows she didn’t dream of anything at all.

[arainbowofchaos]

Forbidden Euphoria [Chapter 1]

As you have been working diligently for three years at a prestigious company, a new younger colleague is recruited into your team. Despite his inexperience, it seems that his natural charm allows him to receive forgiveness for any shortcomings. As you find yourself growing more and more obsessed with him, fate pairs you together for a business trip.

Or : During a business trip, you realize that Jungkook does indeed have experience in a non-professional domain, and it doesn't bother you in the slightest.

Tags: Jungkook x Reader, Jungkook isn't monogamous, Reader has fallen hard for him, future smut and futur angst

Length: 2.4k words

A/N: This is a first part and if you like it I'll add the next part soon. Let me know what you think.

Next chapter

...

As he just arrived in the company, it's as if Jungkook had always been there. He has this way of fitting in effortlessly anywhere he goes. At first, you had your doubts. His attractive appearance seemed suspicious. However, as the weeks went by, he managed to convince you otherwise. He always showed small gestures of kindness at work and didn't hesitate to stay late with you to help wrap up projects. This man was eager to learn and always willing to lend a hand. 

When your boss assigned you to team up with him for a two-day trip to Seoul to secure a crucial deal, you were afraid of being alone with him. It wasn't about mistrusting him; it was the growing awareness of your own feelings that made you nervous.

So perhaps you have become somewhat obsessive, and you must admit it. You can't recall the last time you thought about anything other than Jungkook. But it's safe to say that it's been quite a while. You're aware that it's not the healthiest lifestyle, but you don't care. If God has placed this man in your life, it must be for you to enjoy yourself. Or, to torture your mind, it's either one or the other. 

The way he constantly lingers in your thoughts, you can't seem to move on. If you were to let him know what's truly on your mind, he would probably run away. You're so overwhelmed by his presence that you don't even know what you truly want. But you know that you'd like to find out. You've never felt this way for any man before him.

…

And there you are, making your way to the hotel lobby, feeling uneasy. Jungkook stands at the entrance, he’s on the phone with someone. He is dressed in a loose white shirt and leather pants. He looks ridiculously handsome. You can hardly believe that such a man could be single, but then again, you don't know all about his private life. You're not interested in the details. You don't care if he's in love or not. You don't want to feel your heart breaking. It might be selfish, but you believe it's better this way. He's already out of reach as it is.

As you descend the steps and reach his level, his eyes light up. You hear him murmur a goodbye, immediately hanging up his phone. He greets you with a big smile, "You look beautiful," he compliments you. You pretend that his words don't affect you, but inside, you're boiling. The natural way he makes you feel important, for some reason you know he's sincere. 

"Thank you, you don't look bad yourself," you reply. He chuckles softly and comments, "That's a start. We should get going; they're waiting for us." Of course, you have work to do: it's not a romantic date but a business dinner. You're getting paid tonight, and your role is to secure the contract under favorable conditions so that your boss praises you.

As you look at Jungkook, you could almost believe that you're about to have a romantic moment. Why does he need to make you feel special? You've never had any colleague like him. You try your best to maintain a professional distance between you two, but his eyes shouldn't be looking at you with so much interest.

You both exit the hotel and head towards a taxi. Of course, he opens the door for you before getting into the car himself. Can he ever lose his manners? If he were at least rude, it might help you a little. While on the way to the Korean barbecue restaurant, you see him tapping on his phone. His eyebrows slightly furrow. You're not sure if he's focused or upset, but it's none of your business. You sigh and look out the window, watching the city lights pass by. It's been so long since you've been in Seoul; you've missed it without even realizing it. Suddenly, Jungkook breaks the silence and interrupts your train of thoughts: "Do you think we'll close the deal tonight?"

"We don't have a choice," you affirm. "Our boss will kill us if we mess up this deal. Follow my lead, and everything should go smoothly," you want to reassure him. 

He nods, a smile on his lips. He looks at you intensely before retorting, "I'm lucky to have you with me, you have so much experience."

His words make you blush slightly, as you sense a double meaning. You're tired of holding back, and you want to wipe that smug look off his face. "I do have more experience than you, indeed. I'm older, and you've only just arrived, so listen to me carefully when I give you instructions," you calmly respond. 

"Are we still talking about tonight's deal?" He playfully asks. You roll your eyes and pretend not to listen to him anymore.

But after a moment of silence, he slowly moves closer to your side of the seat, and you can almost feel his breath on your ear. Your eyes are still fixed on the road through the window. Jungkook's next words leave you speechless as he whispers softly, so softly that only you can hear: "I do have quite some experience."

You turn towards him, slightly flustered, and he decides he enjoys seeing you like this. He chuckles and moves away again. You swallow hard and try to calm yourself. He doesn't know how you feel. As long as you manage to remain professional, you should be fine. You may carry some emotional scars from this. You'll have to replay his words in your mind later, imagining the kind of experience he could have been referring to. With an angelic face like his, all fantasies are allowed.

…

The evening went very well as planned. To your great relief, Jungkook and you make a great team. He handles the clients in his own charming way, and it works like magic on them. When you finish, Jungkook is almost tipsy. He's the one who drank the most; this way you didn't have to force yourself, and you thank him for that.

You both respectfully say your goodbyes to the clients as they leave. Jungkook looks delighted and congratulates you, "You were so convincing, it was remarkable."

"It was teamwork, and I have to admit you did well," you honestly reply.

Jungkook looks at you with his big round eyes, surprised. "Does that mean you're finally happy to have me as your partner?" he asks. You avoid the question with a laugh, but you realize that he sensed your initial reluctance to go with him. You feel a little guilty. You want to be honest with him, but something holds you back; you're afraid of saying too much.

"Come on, let's have one last drink," he insists. You want to tell him that it's more reasonable to go back to the hotel, but you don't feel like it. You want to enjoy his presence a little longer. He's had some drinks and is even more cheerful than usual. "Okay, but just one, we have an early flight tomorrow," you agree, trying to be cautious about the situation.

As he takes your hand in the street to lead the way to the next bar, you convince yourself that it's because he's drunk. You decide to follow him. His hand is warm and soft, and it paralyzes yours because this simple touch makes your head spin. It's so natural for him to touch you, while you're not used to it. For you, it's overwhelming.

…

The music is in full swing, and Jungkook is even more charming when he's tipsy, if that's even possible. The pink light dances on his face. You can tell he's in high spirits, and you enjoy seeing him having a good time.

You talk about work, but not only that. He tells you about his latest trip to the capital and the restaurants he got to eat at (this man loves food!). You can't help but smile as he passionately talks about fried chicken. Due to how adorable he looks, you've certainly let your guard down.

"Do you want to go outside for some fresh air?" he asks, a bit shyly. 

You accept his proposal, the air inside has become stifling. Together, you head towards the exit. He has already paid for all your drinks, like a true gentleman. It's hard for you not to consider this evening as a date.

Once on the sidewalk, you watch Jungkook take out his pack of cigarettes and place one between his perfect rosy lips. He exhales the smoke, and you find it strangely alluring, even though you usually dislike smoking.

His phone vibrates. Throughout the evening, you couldn't help but notice that his phone kept lighting up every five minutes. You don't understand why he's ignoring it. Finally, you ask the question that's been bothering you, even though you already regret being intrusive, "Is it your girlfriend texting you?" You try nonchalantly. 

"It's not my girlfriend. Not officially," he admits. Your heart skips a beat in your chest. Of course he's seeing someone. "Now," he continues, "what I really want to know… is why you care." you fear that the pounding of your heart might give you away.

"I'm just trying to make conversation, you should probably answer her, though." 

You know you're getting involved in something that's none of your business, but the way things have unfolded forces you to defend yourself.

 "You pretend not to like me, but I'm starting to think otherwise," he says with confidence, and he's absolutely right.

You remain silent, simply gazing at the dark sky, feeling embarrassed and unsure of how to respond. Suddenly, you feel a hand grabbing your wrist. Once again, his touch burns your skin. You can't contain yourself anymore. He has a way of pushing your buttons.

"Is that why you took me out for a drink tonight? So I could tell you what I really think of you?" you retort.

"Yes, I want to know," he admits. He looks shy, and so young. Your stomach knots at the thought of him knowing how you feel.

"I think you're the most exasperating colleague I've ever encountered.” You begin. “You believe everything is owed to you because you're charming, and everyone overlooks your mistakes because of that. Even tonight, you only convinced them with your natural charm." You pause to catch your breath, the emotions swirling inside you."What drives me crazy is that you've wrapped me around your finger too. It's impossible to resist you, apparently."

He responds, his expression softening. "I didn't expect that," he confesses, looking genuinely surprised. "I didn't realize how much my actions affected you.” His voice has changed in tone. He looks almost sad, and you already regret your words. 

You take a deep breath, trying to gather your thoughts. "It's been quite an intense evening, and I need some rest, let’s go back to the hotel," you suggest. 

Jungkook agrees and lets go of your wrist. He remains silent. The journey back to the hotel is filled with an awkward tension, and neither of you says a word during the ride.

Upon arriving at the hotel, you head straight to your floor and your room. You quickly bid Jungkook goodnight and retreat into your room, wanting to put as much distance between you and him as possible. Inside, you're filled with a mix of emotions, and shame washes over you for having such feelings for him. 

...

After a brief moment, there's a gentle knock on the door, causing your heart to skip a beat. You peek through the door's peephole and confirm that it's Jungkook standing on the other side. Your heart races as you debate whether to let him in or not. After some hesitation, you decide to open the door just a crack, enough to see him properly but not enough to invite him in fully. "What do you want?" you ask, trying to keep your voice steady.

You can't help but notice how beautiful he looks, and his intense gaze makes your heart flutter. "You said you couldn't resist me," he begins, "I didn't expect to feel this way about you either, but I can't deny it anymore. I want to be more than just a colleague to you." His vulnerability surprises you, and you can see the sincerity in his eyes. But you're torn between your feelings and the fear of getting hurt. "Jungkook, I..." you start to say, but the words get stuck in your throat. What do you want to say to him?

The moment becomes too intense for words, and before you know it, his lips are pressed against yours. The world around you seems to fade away as your tongues intertwine with passion. The coolness of his piercing, combined with the warm wetness of his tongue, sends shivers down your spine and causes goosebumps to form on your skin. He pauses in the midst of your kiss only to invite himself into your room and close the door behind him. 

He steps forward, backing you against the wall and your whole body is trembling with lust as you want more of him. You feel so vulnerable. You've longed for this moment so deeply, and you want to savor every second of it. Jungkook is a great kisser, and after all, he has already proven to you that he excels in everything he does.

He gazes at you tenderly and utters, "I can't believe this is real. Look at you.” His hand caresses your face, and you know exactly how you must look. You’re a mess already. He softly trails his hand from your face down to your neck and then to your chest and you gasp with excitement, your face flushed, completely at his mercy

"I'm gonna make you feel so good." He promises. As he takes you in his arms and carries you gently to the bed, you already know that you're doomed forever. Not only could you not resist him, but you'll never be able to live without him again.

[sweetloleepop]

𝑺𝒐𝒎𝒆𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝑶𝒍𝒅, 𝑺𝒐𝒎𝒆𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝑵𝒆𝒘, 𝑺𝒐𝒎𝒆𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝑩𝒐𝒓𝒓𝒐𝒘𝒆𝒅, 𝑺𝒐𝒎𝒆𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝑩𝒍𝒖𝒆

Chapter 12: Friday Nights

Synopsis: Reader kinda gets used to things, except on Friday nights.

Pairings: Zeke Yeager/Reader, Erwin Smith/Reader, Erwin Smith/Marie

Tags: Modern AU, Arranged Marriage, Reader is kind of a dandere, Erwin Smith is mean, slow burn, infidelity, consuming alcohol

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6, Chapter 7, Chapter 8, Chapter 9, Chapter 10, Chapter 11

Wordcount: 2.2k

It was 4 o’clock in the morning and (Y/N) lied still on their bed. A couple of weeks has passed after that night and ever since then, she failed to have a good night’s sleep and would always wake up at this particular hour. With a pounding head, she slowly got up and and made her way to the bathroom.

The cold water from the faucet completely woke her up. She brushed her teeth and washed her face. It’s still so early for a bath so she proceeded downstairs and decided to make breakfast. Erwin usually wakes up at 5 and goes down half an hour later, then he would eat his breakfast and leave so (Y/N)’s early morning efforts doesn’t really go to waste.

She opened her phone and watched some recipe on youtube. After all, she has all the time in the world to prepare something. It was a bit complicated but she made sure to focus and do each and every step; put each and every ingredients in; and serve the meal exactly how the chef in the video served it.

After that conversation with Erwin, (Y/N) struggled to find her self worth yet again. Just when she thought something would change in her life, Erwin slapped her with the fact that she will never be anyone whom someone would love and care for. Soon, (Y/N) found herself always busy; cleaning almost the entirety of Erwin’s mansion, cooking stuff that required full attention and effort, doing grocery almost every day, an excuse she made for herself just so she have a reason to go out. By the end of each day for two weeks straight, (Y/N) found herself incredibly exhausted.

Soon after she served the breakfast, Erwin arrived at the kitchen. He’s already wearing his suit, his hair neatly combed, and on his wrist, a very expensive watch. He cleared his throat before taking a seat at the end of the table. (Y/N) took a seat next to him, although she made sure that a fine distance is between them. She did not dare look at him directly, afraid that meeting his eyes would freshen the memory of seeing him in a compromising position with that woman. The thought made her wince and shiver. Erwin didn’t missed that, of course, he never misses anything.

After eating, Erwin excused himself and finally left for work. (Y/N) sighed deeply, it is somehow easier for her when he’s not around. She was left alone in the kitchen, staring at her barely touched food. It looks delicious and definitely tastes good but lately, (Y/N) struggled to build an appetite. After staring and poking at her food, she finally decided to just throw it away. Sure it’s a waste but it’s not like anyone would care now.

She placed the used dishes in the dishwasher and proceeded to clean the kitchen. After doing so, she started cleaning the living room, making sure that not a single dust or stain is left anywhere. Next, she went upstairs and organized her closet. It wasn’t messy, she just felt like she wants to organize her stuff differently now. Jewelries, shirts, shorts, pants, slacks, dresses, and many more, she organized all of them. She removed everything from their places and cleaned the room. She dusted off the cabinets and vacuumed the carpet. After that, she properly folded her already properly folded clothes. Hanged the shirts that needs to be hanged. Wiped her clean shoes with damp wipes, and placed her jewelries where they were already placed before. It was unnecessary, really, what she did, but it made her relax, helped her clear her mind and focus on something else.

After tiring herself with housework, she rested for a bit before taking a cold shower. She hates cold shower. As soon as the water hit her body, she tensed and shivered, ‘This is a bad idea.’ She immediately turned the knob and sighed a sigh of relief after the cold water turned warm.

||

Days seemed to end quickly. Everytime (Y/N) finishes her chores, the sun just seem to disappear. (Y/N) would always prepare dinner after her late afternoon shower. At first, she cooks dinner for two, but after realizing that Erwin would never go home early and therefore never eat dinner with her here, she decided that she’s had enough wasting her efforts and started cooking just for herself.

As she got used to things, (Y/N) found herself getting better. She prepares breakfast for Erwin then have all the time in the world to herself. She tries new things, watch new shows, play loud music on Erwin’s expensive and high quality set of speakers. Things were nice, but not on Friday nights. Those are the nights that Erwin doesn’t go home. (Y/N) thought she’s fine. She thought she’ll be fine, but everytime she waits for Erwin to fill the empty space on their bed only to find that her waiting is in vain, she can’t help but feel depressed. The mere thought of Erwin and that woman together makes her wanna cry. She knows he’s with her, of course he is. He always is with her, but its different when he spends the night away– spends the night with her.

||

Today is Friday. A December Friday. (Y/N) sat alone by the kitchen island. It was cold, very cold and she felt lonely. She just finished watching three movies but found herself still widely awake. She went to the kitchen to find some snack but found nothing. All Erwin has here is his collection of expensive wine. (Y/N)’s never had wine, in fact, she has never drank alcohol her whole life. So, to prevent herself from succumbing into the bed, feeling pathetic and sad, she decided to try one. Erwin probably won’t even notice, ‘I mean, he has too many of them anyways.’

She opened the lid of a grape wine that she saw sitting on Erwin’s wine rack. (Y/N) likes fruits and the bottle said it only has 5% alcohol by volume. After opening the beverage, she pour the reddish liquid on her glass. She was a bit disappointed that a grape wine is red, ‘kinda expected it to be purple but oh well.’ She closed the bottle and brought her wine glass close to her nose. She smelled the liquid and immediately regretted it. For a fancy-looking drink, it sure doesn’t smell good. ‘But maybe, it tastes good…’

(Y/N) took a sip. ‘Oh yeah, it’s not so bad!’ Then took another sip. Then another.

She finished her glass faster than she expected and she was satisfied with her “performance”. Before she started pouring yet another shot, she felt her face get hot and her mind pounding. It was foreign and (Y/N) don’t hate it.

||

“Am I really so unlovable? Ahh, I’m so lonely!” (Y/N) cried. She’s drank half the bottle of wine and is now a complete mess.

Thoughts of Erwin together with that woman plagued her drunken mind. And now she’s upset. She sobbed once again before sitting up from where she lay her head down. She sighed rather violently and said, “Guess what? I’m tired of being the good little person wife here. I’m gonna go clubbing tonight.” And upstairs she went.

(Y/N) changed out of her pajamas, and while doing so, she kept on muttering, “And what? Erwin thinks only he can do that? Do this to me? He’ll see.” She opted whether to wear her usual long skirt or jeans but soon she decided to wear that one short skirt that she never really wore because of how short they were. She paired it with a black, sleeveless blouse with buttons and after changing, she finally went downstairs.

By the foyer are some of hers and Erwin’s shoes. (Y/N) took a good look at hers. Most of them are flats. Boring. She sighed and ran back up to the room and headed straight to her closet. (Y/N) looked at her collection of high heels. She have only five pairs, and one of them, also unused, is a black five-inch stiletto. (Y/N) felt a wave of excitement wash over her and that is enough for her to hurriedly grab the pair of feet torturer and leave.

Inside the taxi, (Y/N) felt a bit dizzy. The motion of the car is making her a bit sick but luckily, before she ended up vomiting inside the poor driver’s car, she arrived at her destination. She asked for the taxi driver to bring her to the East side of the city, where most of the clubs are. Erwin’s place is in the North so (Y/N) is very confident that she can go back there fast. At least just before Erwin goes back home in the morning.

(Y/N) paid the driver and thanked him. She looked around, feeling amazed. There were many people on the street, most of which seems to be having fun. The lights on the buildings are colorful, and music were heard from everywhere.

She strolled around for a bit, reading the many building’s names. After some time, she decided to enter a place called “Marley’s”. (Y/N) thought that the building’s external design was neat, so she mindlessly entered the premises.

(Y/N) wasn’t disappointed upon entering the place. It was neat inside too! There are many people but not crowded. She could hear the loud music but somehow, it doesn’t sound obnoxious. (Y/N) proceeded to the bar, passing by tables and booths.

She took a seat by the corner, near the bartender. The guy, upon seeing her, asked her what she’ll have. “What’s available?” (Y/N) asked. “Uh, many? There’s gin, wine, vodka, tequila, beer, whiskey…” the bartender replied with a confused look.

(Y/N) was flabbergasted, ‘Wha-what? There’s- there’s many types of alcohol?’ She definitely don’t belong here. “I- uh…”

“I’ll have whiskey on the rocks and a tequila shot for the lady.”

‘Hm?’

(Y/N) turned her head so fast, she felt her head spin and gave her neck a whiplash. She heard the bartender speak but didn’t really understood what he said, she was too focused on easing the pain on her neck.

“You didn’t break your neck now, did you?” The man who ordered spoke. The two looked at each other simultaneously, and (Y/N) immediately recognized him.

“You! You’re that guy from the office!” (Y/N) exclaimed in amusement.

“I don’t think we’ve ever met, miss.” The man replied, a slight confusion evident on his face.

“Well, I- I don’t work for you. But I have gone to your office once. You’re… uh…”

“Zeke-”

“YOU’RE ZEKE! Yes! Your name is Zeke Yea… Yeamer?”

“It’s Zeke Yeager.”

(Y/N) slowly nodded. ‘This is amazing. What a coincidence!’

“We’ve met at your office, I was looking for someone and… uh, yeah that was it.” (Y/N) sheepishly said. It was, after all, an embarrassing moment for her. She went inside the wrong building!

“Ah, I remember now. Yeah, we have met before. You’re miss (L/N), right? The lady who mistakenly entered our building.” Zeke said.

(Y/N) felt her face get hot, ‘He remembered it! Ah this is so embarrassing.’

She heard Zeke laugh, “I can’t imagine how embarrassing that must be, but hey, at least we met again, I might just get to know you better if the night will allow it.”

And the night did allow it. The pair have lost count of how many shots they drank, all they know now is that the world is spinning, although (Y/N)’s world might be spinning a bit faster than Zeke’s. The two talked about random stuff about their lives, leaving the important and actual personal informations and happenings that they’ve experienced.

Zeke, as (Y/N) observed, tells a lot of stupid jokes. And what else makes a lady laugh harder than poorly executed jokes? Nothing.

“Ah, that made my tummy hurt.” (Y/N) stated while she calms herself down.

Zeke laughed, “I know something that can ease the pain.”

“What?” (Y/N) asked, genuinely curious.

“Here.” Then Zeke handed her another shot of tequila.

“Oh no. No, no, no, no, no. No more.” (Y/N) said while gently shaking her head and shielding herself with her hands.

“Just one more, come on.” Zeke insisted.

(Y/N) looked at him for a while and replied, “Last one.”

And they both cheered as (Y/N) drank her last shot.

“You know, I’m really curious as to what a woman like you is doing in a place like this all alone. You’re obviously not used to the place.” Zeke said, his words a bit slurred.

“Well, I don’t have anyone to go with so I went here alone.” (Y/N) replied.

“What about the husband? Doesn’t want to join you?” At that, (Y/N)’s eyes widened. ‘How did he know?’

“You’re wearing a wedding ring.” Zeke stated. ‘Oh…’

“Oh, this? This isn’t a wedding ring, it’s an heirloom.” (Y/N) said as she nervously laughed.

Zeke was silent after she said that and that made (Y/N) incredibly anxious.

“Is that so?” Zeke asked.

“Y-yeah.” (Y/N) nervously replied.

“Say, (Y/N). Do you have a partner? A boyfriend or something?” Zeke asked, his face a little too serious.

(Y/N) needn’t contemplate about it. She doesn’t have a boyfriend. Or a partner.

“No…” she quietly replied.

“Then I guess it’s alright if I do this.” Zeke said before holding (Y/N)’s chin and closing the unnoticeably small distance between them.

[chrisbitchtree]

All For You

This is my contribution to the @harringrove-relay-race!

The day Billy’s life changed forever was a Sunday in May. He’d never forget that for the rest of his life. He’d never forget how brightly the sun shone as he packed up his car and drove east, as his father kicked him out, refusing to pay for any more of Billy’s college tuition after finding him in bed with his friend Matt a week after they arrived home for summer vacation.

His was given the option to stay and continue to have his dad pay for his college education, but the conditions were that he move home and live there while finishing out his last two years of school, and that he give up his friends and his “lifestyle” as Neil called it.

Billy refused. He couldn’t live under Neil’s roof again. And suddenly the whole state of California, not just San Francisco, seemed too small, so he got in his car and drove. He hadn’t been aiming for the Midwest, had originally planned on Boston, but that’s where he’d landed, after his car had broken down on the side of the highway just outside of Chicago. Finding he liked the pace of the city more than he thought he would, he decided to stick around for a bit.

He applied anywhere he could, and the first place to call him back for an interview and offer him a job was a catering company. He’d worked as a waiter on and off through his first couple years of college, for extra spending money, so he was confident that he could do the job well.

He made friends easily, people who accepted him for who he was, falling in with a group of fellow servers, Heather and her girlfriend Robin, and their friend Steve, gorgeous, funny, goofy Steve, who could make Billy weak in the knees with one smile, and thoughts of whom filled Billy’s every waking hour, and most of his dreams too. They would work long hours, day after day, serving at all sorts of upscale events, and when they were done their shifts, they’d hit the clubs or bars, or go see a movie, then head to the diner for late night shakes and fries.

When Billy decided to stay long term, applying for and getting a transfer slot at a local university, he had to find a place to live. Heather had been nice enough to offer up her couch for the summer, but that couldn’t be a long term solution, so Billy put out feelers for a potential roommate. It turned out that Steve was looking for one as well, so it worked out perfectly.

It seemed like a match made in heaven. They were the same age, both out on their own with no ties to family, working hard to make a name for themselves in the world. Steve was an especially hard worker, going to school for culinary management by day, and working as a server by night and on weekends. He’d also pick up shifts in the prep kitchen when he could, telling Billy that it was important for him to know how all aspects of a food business worked if he wanted to own his own restaurant or catering business some day.

Billy really admired Steve’s drive, and it only added to his attraction to the other boy. He tried to fight his feelings for Steve, but it was hard when he was so sweet and kind, funny and thoughtful, and looked like he did to boot. He had long legs that seemed to go on forever in his black server’s pants, a lean, toned swimmer’s body, and soft looking, wild brown hair that curled up in some spots and flopped over in others.

Billy wanted nothing more than to kiss Steve’s plush pink lips while running his hands through it. It felt like he and Steve were maybe building to something, but it was always hard to tell. One minute, Steve would be flirty, touching Billy’s arm as they talked, and the next, he’d be moving to the other side of the couch, keeping a safe distance between them.

In the face of this, Billy tried to tamp down his feelings, doing his best to just enjoy his friendship with Steve. They would help each other study, make sure the other ate, they worked and partied together, and it was really starting to feel to Billy like he had a family again, between Steve, Heather, and Robin.

Then, Billy had to go ahead and combine his bad habits of jumping to conclusions and opening his big mouth without thinking about what he was going to say first. He and Steve had both been scheduled to work a massive Christmas party for some regular clients of theirs, the Harringtons. They hired the catering company almost every single Saturday evening, for small dinner parties, and they were Billy’s least favourite events to work, because the Harringtons were so awful.

They were rude to the staff, telling them that they were slow and lazy, and constantly made up stupid white lies, like saying that they’d asked for white win when they were poured a glass of red, even though the servers knew that they’d asked for red, or saying that their steaks were overcooked, even when they were a perfect medium rare. The only thing that kept the catering company coming back was how well the jobs paid, and the generous tips that the Harringtons would give them at the end of each event.

Nobody ever wanted to work a Saturday night, but Billy would be fine with working every single Saturday if it meant he never had to serve those awful people again, so he was deeply frustrated to see his name on the list of servers for their Christmas event. He knew there would be a huge payout for it though, so he decided to just grin and bear it, and hope the night would go by quickly.

Thankfully, it did go by relatively fast, and at the end of the shift, he went looking for Steve, hoping that they could ride back to the warehouse space that the catering company ran out of in the same big white food service van. As he rounded the corner towards the Harrington’s front hall, he heard Steve speaking in hushed tones with a woman. That was weird. The female voice didn’t sound like anyone from work.

Curious, Billy froze in place and listened. “Son,” the woman said. “You know you’re welcome home at anytime. In fact, we hope that you’ll join us for Christmas dinner. You just need to stop that. And in case you need help making your decision, here you go.”

Mom,” Steve replied, his tone stern. “I don’t want this. And I told you and dad that I’m not changing my mind. Take this back. I don’t want it. We’ll see about Christmas.”

“I’ll throw it in the trash if you don’t keep it,” the woman said, before walking away, her heels clacking on the tile floor. She rounded the corner, followed by Steve, who was stuffing an envelope into the pocket of his black pants.

Holy shit. Steve was the Harrington’s son. He wasn’t like Billy at all. He flattened himself against the wall, trying to remain unseen. Thankfully, he did, both Steve and Mrs. Harrington too wrapped up in the argument they’d just been having to pay attention to anything else.

Billy was fuming. All this time, Steve had been acting like he was just a regular guy, trying to scrape by, with no one to care for him, just like Billy, but in reality, he was richer than Billy could ever dream of being, and he had a family, right there in town, that seemed to care about him and want him around, even if they were assholes to almost everyone else. And here, Billy had thought he and Steve would spend Christmas together. Sure, he’d never actually asked, but it seemed to make sense. Where else would either of them go? Billy had already been trying to see if he could fit a small turkey in their apartment sized oven, and Steve was planning on spending the day with his rich family in their mansion!

He tried to act normal on the ride back to work, and on the car ride back home, but by the time they got back to their apartment, he couldn’t hold back anymore. “So, I hear you have big plans for Christmas day, huh? Gonna go over to mommy and daddy’s and let them spoil you? I can’t believe you never told me that the Harringtons were your parents, Steve. You just sat back and let us complain about what assholes they are, and it turns out you’re their fucking spawn! Did you think that was funny, asshole? I hope you enjoy your fancy meal while I sit here all alone eating a frozen dinner and getting drunk off cheap wine.”

Steve, who’d been in the middle of taking off his coat when Billy started his little rant, stood frozen, his eyes wide, his face ashen, his jacket half on and half off. Billy could see the bulging envelope in his pocket. It probably had a giant wad of cash in it.

“Billy, I…” he started, but Billy cut him off, too mad to listen.

“I just don’t understand how you could do this. All the months we’ve known each other, and we’ve lived together for almost four months, struggling to make rent and pay the bills, and you’ve got an endless supply of cash right there. I heard your mom give you the envelope of money. I saw it in your pocket.” He pulled off his coat, throwing it towards the hall closet, and stomped to his room, slamming the door shut.

He hoped that Steve would leave him alone so he could cool off, but no such luck. Not a minute passed before Steve was yanking Billy’s door open. Hands on his hips, he looked like he was about to lay into Billy, so Billy grabbed his headphones, turning on his music and cranking it up loud. He closed his eyes and laid back on his bed, doing his best to ignore Steve.

It worked for a little while, but then Steve was snatching the headphones off his head. “Hey, asshole!” he shouted. “Did you ever think for one fucking second about asking me why exactly I’m struggling to pay for stuff if my parents are loaded?”

Huh, yeah, Billy hadn’t really thought to ask. “Because you’re a massive idiot who doesn’t know how to be happy with what he has?”

“No, dumbass, because, exactly like you, I was kicked out of my house for being queer. But unlike you, I don’t have the benefit of being halfway across the country from my parents. They hire the catering company almost every week, just to keep an eye on me, and remind me of the lifestyle I left behind, and I don’t want to say anything about it to anyone because they bring in good money for the business, and despite my repeated requests for my parents to leave me alone outside of work, they’re constantly trying to bribe me to come back, with the conditions that I take something they choose in school and marry a woman.

But I don’t want that. I want to own a restaurant. I want to make a name for myself. I want to date guys. I actually wanted to date you, you fucking prick. Until tonight, that is. I really liked you, but it turns out you’re just as awful and judgemental as everyone else in my life. I was going to ask you if you wanted to spend Christmas together, and I took the money from my mom so I could afford to buy you a Christmas present, but I really hope that you enjoy that frozen dinner and boxed wine. I’ll talk to Heather and Robin about going there.”

Billy sat speechless as he watched Steve walk out of his room, slamming the door behind him. He was such an idiot. He had to make this better somehow, but he had no clue what the fuck to do. It wouldn’t be enough to just say sorry. His big mouth had pushed them way beyond that. No, he needed to make a grand gesture, something that would really show Steve how much he meant to Billy.

It came to him the next morning as he was hiding out in his bedroom, listening to the sounds of Steve getting ready to go to work, a shift he and Billy thankfully didn’t share. Steve had mentioned that he was going to spend Christmas with Heather and Robin, since Billy had gotten himself ex-communicated.

Robin and Heather, from a small town in Texas, couldn’t afford to go home for the holidays, so they were staying in Chicago. If that was the situation the two of them were in, there were probably others, at work and school, that couldn’t afford to make the trip home, or didn’t have family to spend the time with. Maybe Billy could offer to host a potluck dinner at the apartment, to show Steve that he wasn’t alone, and that he had a lot of people, most especially Billy, who cared about him.

As soon as he heard the front door shut and the key turn in the lock, Billy sprang out of bed and raced to the living room, scooping up the phone, cord stretching across the floor, and dialed Robin and Heather’s number.

He’d been so caught up in how to make this better that he’d never considered that Steve would have already told them what happened. He sat through a full half hour of both women trading the phone back and forth as they took turns berating him for his behaviour the previous evening. He knew he deserved it, but it didn’t make it any less embarrassing to hear all the stupid shit he’d done repeated back to him.

When they were done, and he had apologized profusely, promising to never hurt Steve again, he told them his plan. After another round of promises to never intentionally hurt Steve again, they agreed to get him back to his and Billy’s apartment on the evening of the 25th.

When Steve got home that day, he reluctantly listened to Billy’s apology, and just as reluctantly accepted it, telling Billy that he knew he hadn’t meant it, and was just being a hot headed asshole, which Billy deserved, but since they were out of school for the semester now, any time they weren’t working over the next two weeks consisted of Steve mostly avoiding Billy by going right to his room when he got home, or leaving the apartment altogether for long stretches of time.

A small part of Billy hoped that anger wasn’t the only reason that Steve was avoiding Billy, that maybe he still had feelings for Billy too, and just felt awkward about addressing those feelings now. He didn’t want to get his hopes up too high though.

Billy tried to spend that time working on himself, seeking out a therapist who could help him work through his feelings of jealousy and resentment towards anyone who he perceived as having an easier time than him in life, and help him work through his abandonment issues, both things he’d spent way too long shoving down inside himself until they bubbled up to the surface, out of his control.

He also contacted everyone at work and his school friends that said they didn’t have anywhere to go for the holidays, making them all promise to keep it a secret from Steve. His invitations had an overwhelmingly positive response, which both saddened and heartened him. He’d never thought of how many other people felt alone as he did.

Steve spent the night of the 24th at Robin and Heather’s apartment, so Billy worked to prep the apartment as best as he could. They didn’t have much furniture in their apartment, and there wouldn’t be much room for extra tables and chairs anyway, so he decided they would all eat on the floor. He bought bright red and green tablecloths at the dollar store and draped them all across the living room floor after pushing the couch and armchair against the wall, and a few of tomorrow’s guests have loaned him Christmas lights and decorations, and one even brought over a tiny tree.

He was actually pretty happy with it by the time he was done. Now he just had to wait. He made cookies to fill the time, ten different kinds, from his mother’s handwritten recipes, one of the only things he brought with him when he moved to remind him of her. By the time he stopped for the night, the counters were full of baked goods.

The next day, as the guests started to arrive, Billy grew more and more worried that Steve wouldn’t show up. He didn’t know what kind of plan Robin and Heather had concocted to get Steve to go back to his apartment, he’d left that to them and trusted that they’d follow through with it, but he was starting to second guess whether they’d be successful.

They said they’d have Steve at the apartment by 6pm, but that ticked by, and then 6:15, and 6:30, and Billy was starting to give up hope, resigning himself to failure. He had an apartment full of friends, but no Steve, the one who mattered the most. Then, just as the clock struck 6:45, the door flew open, and Billy could hear Steve’s voice, even from back in the kitchen, where he was grabbing more napkins.

“I still don’t get why…” the words died on Steve’s lips just as Billy rounded the corner to their living room. There stood Steve, with Robin and Heather behind him. Steve looked as beautiful as ever, hair flopping in his eyes under his hat, and a startled look on his face as he took in the space, packed full of their friends and coworkers. He locked eyes with Billy, who suddenly found himself at a loss for words.

“Billy, can I talk to you? In my bedroom?” Steve asked.

Billy followed silently behind him.

“You have a lot of nerve, having all of our mutual friends over for a Christmas party at our apartment while I’m over at Robin and Heather’s, sulking. You’re really trying to hurt me as much as possible, aren’t you? We just came to get the bottle opener. Robin broke theirs. If you don’t need it for your party guests, I’ll just take it and get out of your hair, so the festivities can continue.”

Oh god, this really wasn’t going according to plan. “Steve, I didn’t plan a party for while you were gone. This party is for you. Well, for you and for everyone who didn’t have anywhere else to go for Christmas. But mostly for you. I wanted to show you how many people you have in your life, that you don’t need your parents. We’re your family now. I’m really, really sorry about what I said to you that night, but you mean more to me than anything, and I just wanted to make you happy. I don’t think you’re a spoiled brat. I think you’re the most amazing, hardworking, kind, special person I’ve ever met, and I hope you’ll give me a chance to prove that to you.”

A small smile started in the corner of Steve’s mouth, the first thing even close to Steve’s usual grin that Billy had seen in weeks. “Ok, I’ll think about forgiving you. On one condition.”

“Anything. I���ll do anything for you, Steve.”

Steve opened his bedside table and pulled out a sprig of something green. “I was going to use this stupid mistletoe to finally try to make a move on you tonight, but I’m gonna leave the move making to you now.” He handed the sprig to Billy, who held it over their heads.

He leaned in close to Steve. “Can I kiss you, you beautiful goof?”

Steve didn’t respond, and instead just pressed his lips to Billy’s own. They stayed like that for a long while, until someone knocked on the door, letting Billy know that his kitchen timer was going off for the hors d’oeuvres.

“Come help me in the kitchen?” Billy asked, holding out his hand. Steve took it, following him out of the room.

The spent the rest of the party glued to each other’s sides, and Billy could tell from the soft looks Steve gave him, and the giant grin plastered to his face that this had been the right move. Billy was beyond happy that the plan had worked. Laying in bed that night, holding Steve in his arms, Billy thanked whatever higher power had decided he was worthy of a second chance at happiness.

*** From that year onwards, every single Christmas, no matter where their lives took them, through the opening of their first, then second restaurant, marriage, and the adoption of both of their children, one thing never changed. Every single December, they put the word out to anyone and everyone they knew that they were welcome in their home for a celebration of friendship and found family come Christmas day.

Please look forward to the amazing work from the next contributor, @oopsiedaisiesbaby!

[bijouxcarys]

𝐓𝐨 𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐒𝐨 𝐂𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐭𝐞𝐥𝐲 (𝐑𝐨𝐛𝐞𝐫𝐭 𝐏𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐅𝐚𝐧𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧)

Masterlist

Chapter One | Chapter Two | Chapter Three | Chapter Four | Chapter Five

Description: Sometimes the pain of what should have never been, opens your eyes to what can be.

Tags: @celestial-dragoness @whothefuckisanja @callmethehunter @tangerine1969 @angrychicksposts @firethatgrewsolow @ourshadowstallerthanoursoul @chromations ((if you want to be added to the list, just let me know!))

Being 19 is the perfect age. Not quite young enough to be treated like a child, yet not old enough to accept complete responsibility for your mistakes. It’s the bridge between coming of age, and the gruelling prospect of a life kids are conditioned to navigate as robotic entities.

Not Robert. No, Robert’s 19th was exciting for him. Even more exciting to know he was closing in on his 20s, and then eventually his 30s, 40s, 50s… So much life ahead of him, he could hardly contain the excitement. Well, there was that, and the fact that she would be there to celebrate with him.

Somehow, he had managed to work a conversation in the direction of celebrating his birthday, naturally offering Elena and John to attend. Nothing big, he assured them, just a gathering at the house he had been staying in, along with some old school friends. He wasn’t that thrilled about it being in the centre of Birmingham, but when he learned it was somewhat closer to where Elena’s recently rented flat resided, he could overlook the concrete jungle outside his window everyday. Though, deep down, he longed for the tranquillity of nature; almost as much as he longed to be in Elena’s presence 24/7.

There had been multiple times, since he and John visited Elena at work, that Robert had made sub-par attempts at approaching her. Flirting without it being too blatant, too embarrassing, and too damaging to the dynamic the three of them had formed. If he had an ounce of control, attempts would be next to none. Robert eventually, reluctantly, accepted the fact that Elena had a hold on him, unknowingly making it next to impossible for him to keep his distance.

And there it was: the crux of it. Robert was completely fixed on this feeling. Elena was everything. Elena. Elena, Elena, Elena… Everything he did, he thought of Elena. I wonder what Elena would think of this… I bet Elena would like that… I hope Elena’s having a good day today…

The only moments he found himself void of these thoughts were those in which he could inadvertently tell her how he felt through performing, and actually being with her. Just her presence was enough to temporarily curb the craving for something a little more.

Now, here he was, a can of Carlsberg down by 7pm, as he awaited her arrival with John. Despite it being his birthday celebration, his attention was entirely devoted to the house. Making sure it would be okay enough for Elena. I may live with unkempt idiots, but I promise I’m not one of them, Elena! So many friends surrounded him, unearthed opportunities to lose himself in the joy of being 19. Yet all he cared about… was Elena.

What is she doing to me?

Robert was busying himself with unveiling a brand new Little Richard record his mum had gifted him, savouring the fresh vinyl and the glisten across the grooves the low lighting of his living room provided, when three hearty knocks against the door broke the casual murmur.

On the other side of the door, Elena and John stood patiently. Elena was trying her best not to pick away the black nail polish she’d meticulously applied earlier, wanting to maintain the appearance she’d worked hard on crafting for the evening. She rarely dressed up to go anywhere; a small bit of mascara and a nice shirt was usually the perfect ensemble for a drink or two. However, tonight inspired a nagging need to make a little more of an effort.

Flares were making a bold entry in the world of fashion, and Elena eagerly embraced the trend, revelling in the opportunity to showcase her latest wardrobe addition. Tonight, she had chosen a striking pair of orange velvet flares, their fabric hugging her curves before cascading into a classic flare silhouette past the knee. The vibrant hue added a pop of colour to her ensemble, a welcome departure from the subdued tones of her usual attire.

Selecting a shirt was a breeze for Elena, as she boasted a diverse collection of button-ups in her wardrobe. She had settled on a brown and white short-sleeved button-up adorned with an intricate swirling pattern. Tying the hem at her waist, she effortlessly accentuated the beauty of her trousers while infusing her look with a touch of casual elegance.

Her chocolate eyes sparkled with the smoky allure of meticulously applied eyeshadow, their depth accentuated by subtle artistry. Framing her face, her deep brunette hair had been carefully styled with rags into gentle waves that laid comfortably over her shoulders and down to her chest. To complete her ensemble, she’d slipped into a brown corduroy jacket and matching boots boasting a chunky heel.

“You are such a girl.”

“Shut up, I need to make sure the ‘tache is perfect.”

“Why? Who are you tryna impress?”

“Myself.”

“I’m sure you’ve got a fucking vagina…” Elena mumbled, watching John as he leaned into the door, fixing his moustache in the reflection of the frosted glass panels.

Just then, the door swung open, leaving John face-to-face with Robert, who pulled his head back in a jarring motion when he realised how close he was.

“Bloody hell, I know it’s me birthday, an’ all, but I don’t need ya to kiss me.”

“I was fixing me bloody moustache!” John groaned, shoving his hands into his pockets.

Elena laughed, bringing her hand to her mouth and leaning forward a little. Robert grinned, pushing the door open further to allow the pair in, fixing his gaze on the little brunette and her bright giggling. 

“Hi,” he said softly down at her as she passed him, placing a hand on her arm as he leaned down to press a kiss to her cheek. She responded likewise, planting her own gentle peck on his bearded cheek, or at least as close to his cheek as she could reach.

“Happy birthday,” she stepped back to allow him to close the door behind him. As he thanked her, she dug into her pocket and glanced down the hallway to check John had moved into the living room, greeting some of the people he knew.

“What do you want to drink?” Robert asked, seemingly making his own way into the other room. But Elena’s hand shot to his wrist, gently stopping him. “You alright?”

“Yeah,” she looked down at her pocket, scolding her packet of cigarettes that had gotten in the way of what she was trying to retrieve. “Guess who got you something?”

“Oh, God…” he almost whined, crossing his arms, but still smiling giddily. He watched as Elena pulled out a small green box, not much bigger than the pack of Marlboros she yielded.

“I, uh… Sorry it’s not wrapped or anything…” She handed him the box. “I would’ve done that, only it took the stupid shop ages to actually get what I asked for… They only got it in today.”

Robert eyed her curiously, taking the box from her with care. “Y’know you really didn’t have to get me anything, Elena…” he told her as he gently pulled open the lid.

“Shh,” swiftly shushing him, she slipped her hands into her pockets, nervously watching as he unveiled his gift. “I just… hope you like it.” She looked down at her feet, shuffling against the carpet.

Peering up at him, she struggled to hold back a smile as she saw Robert’s mouth practically drop open at the contents of the box. He snapped his head up to her, gobsmacked.

“You didn’t.”

“I did…” she answered with a breathy laugh, the smile finally cracking through her suppression. “D’ya like it?”

“Like it?!” He looked at her like she was speaking a foreign language. “I’m never gonna take this off, luv.”

Moving with the utmost care, Robert lifted a silver Kingman ring from its protective foam, intricately adorned with carvings of archer’s arrows and snakes, all encompassing a large turquoise stone in the centre.

“It’s the, uh, the B–”

“The Black Mountain one!” His eyes lit up further, and his grin only grew wider. The moment, to him, seemed to stretch on beyond the interaction. She’d taken in so much information from the year of knowing her, clearly noting his love for Wales, and traditional jewellery. There was a slight mystical element to the ring, something that spoke of a world untouched by mortals, yet he was somehow worthy enough of wearing such an item.

She believed he was worthy enough of such an item.

“Thank you. Seriously, I love it…” he said earnestly after slipping the ring onto his right hand’s third finger. Not being able to hold himself back any further, he stepped forward and enveloped Elena in a warm hug, arms wrapping securely around her. Heart skipping a beat, he was sure she could hear it banging against his ribcage—feel it in his neck as she rested her chin on his shoulder.

Their embrace enveloped them in a cocoon of warmth, igniting a flicker of something deep within Elena’s soul. As their bodies melded together, a sense of familiarity washed over her, as if she had found a rightful place in the curve of his arms. With her eyes gently closed, she surrendered to the intoxicating sensation of his touch, losing herself in the comfort it brang.

A soft sigh escaped her lips, a whispered melody of contentment as she basked in his warmth. Her thumb brushed against the soft curls at the nape of his neck, a tender caress too gentle to will the rest of her hand to do the same.

For Robert, each moment with her was a fleeting treasure, a delicate balance between cherishing the present and fearing the uncertainty of the future, as much as he eagerly awaited it. He breathed in the scent of her hair, committing it to memory with a silent vow to carry it with him always.

But their sanctuary was shattered by the sudden crash of breaking glass from the living room, jolting them back to reality. With a sigh, Robert reluctantly broke their embrace, his gaze darting towards the source of the disturbance.

Left breathless and bewildered, Elena found herself adrift in a sea of conflicting emotions. A spark ignited within her, a stirring in the depths of her being that left her both exhilarated and unsettled. It was a feeling she couldn’t quite name, yet one that lingered in the recesses of her mind, silently begging to be explored as urgently as it faded with each soft thud of Robert’s departing steps.

Elena’s daze was fleeting. But it didn’t stop her from experiencing a similar jolt every time he looked at her throughout the night. Every time they’d be at opposite ends of the room, engaged in completely different conversations with other people, and they’d lock eyes. It happened then. When a song they knew they both enjoyed started playing through the stereo. It happened then, too. If John did something silly, it would be an instantaneous glance at one another. Yep… there it is again.

And the more alcohol they ingested, the more unavoidable it became.

By the time the party had moved over to the local pub, Robert and Elena became inseparable from one another. Virtually joined at the hip. If either one of them lagged behind, the other would wait for them to join. Even though the streets of Birmingham teemed with lively youths, adorned in vibrant colours, Robert’s attention never wavered. It was all Elena. Everyone else around them faded to a black and white hue, whilst she was doused in full technicolour. 

With a watchful eye, he observed the ease in which Elena interacted with his friends—people she’d never met until that night. It didn’t take a genius to notice the charm she possessed, not only as a woman, but as a human all around. Now that she was a few pints and three shots deep into the night, her confidence was more prominent than ever. 

Elena had a mischievous glint in her eyes as she clasped a sixpence between her palms, moving her hands around in a circular motion to disorientate her onlookers as they eagerly attempted to keep an eye on where the penny was. Then, with a swift and light-speed motion, she smacked her hands onto the table.

“Right, who wants to go first?” she asked with a smirk.

The row of lads in front of her, all with varying amounts of amber liquid in their pint glasses, drunkenly switched their gazes between each of her hands. Finally, Steve took the plunge, hesitantly pointing to her left hand.

“You sure?” she tested.

“Not really, no,” Steve huffed, taking a gulp from his drink.

“Steve says left… Alan?” she turned her attention to the man next to Steve, raising an inquisitive brow.

“Gunna go with Stevie boy,” he shrugged.

“Alan says left… Interesting…”

“C’mon, don’t mess with us!”

“I’m commenting on your guess, don’t get ya kegs in a twist.”

“The fuck are kegs…?” Alan mumbled as she turned to ask each lad down the line, most of them willing to throw poor Steve under the bus and go with his answer. Somebody to blame if they were wrong, really…

“Bon-Bon!” she chimed, a grin taking over her features as she rocked side to side giddily to the beat of the song playing in tandem with the pub’s lively atmosphere. I’m A Believer by The Monkees… It hit the chorus as John mulled over his decision, and the two of them instantly bopped their heads, laughing as they sang out the small key hook after the words ‘and then I saw her face.’

“Bon, come on, which hand is it under?” she coaxed him out of his musical trance through a giggle. The two of them shared an intense gaze, locking onto each other as though he was trying to read her eyes. He knew her. He could read her eyes. Easily. When sober.

“Ah fuck it, I’ll go with the left one as well.”

“Aw, you don’t want to risk the right hand, eh?” she pouted, tilting her head to the side. “Don’t be so scared of a right hand, boys, it happens to be my strongest,” she addressed the rest of them with a cheeky smile. Robert, positioned beside her throughout this whole game, stiffened as he went to take a drink, hearing her provocative jest. Eyes widening, he stifled a chuckle, rocking back on his heels. 

Each of the lads let out a rambunctious “ayyy” in response, some of them clinking their drinks together. Aside from John, who instantly grimaced at his best friend’s implication. And then there was Robert, who simply stayed quiet, somewhat glad that he stood out of her eyeline as she had herself bent over the table.

“Alright, don’t get ahead of y’selves…” she snorted, shaking her head, before finally turning her head to the side, looking over her shoulder up at Robert. “Robert?” He took a step closer, drunk eyes gazing down at her. “Which hand do you want?” 

The question was innocent. It was one she’d asked everyone else that stood around the table. But it was the drop in her tone, the delicate cadence. Like it was only the two of them, talking in a booth in the corner of the pub, away from the chaos. After that joke… I’ll take whichever hand you want, Elena.

However, the competitive streak in him wanted to win this little game, no matter how insignificant it may have been, and he, too, leaned forward on the table with one hand, squinting his eyes as he stared into Elena’s. With a gentle sigh, he reached out and placed his index finger on the back of her right hand, letting the light touch linger as he gave his answer.

“I’ll take your right hand…”

With a bright smile, she looked down at her hand, catching a glimpse of the ring she’d gifted him as he pulled his hand away.

“Okay… so Robert chooses the right…” She looked up at everyone. “At least one of ya ain’t afraid to take a risk.”

“Hey, I chose right, too!” Roy defended, swaying forward.

“Okay, you and Robert are the only risk takers here, it seems,” she chuckled. “Right, are we ready, lads?”

“Don’t keep us waiting, luv,” Robert encouraged.

Building the tension, Elena intentionally waited a moment before lifting her hands from the table. She crossed her arms as a majority of the group groaned, all turning to Steve to relay the blame, whilst Roy and Robert let out cheers, clanging their glasses together in celebration.

“I literally hinted at it the whole time,” Elena laughed, picking up her drink and finishing it off. The dramatic reactions from the guys amused her greatly, bouncing on her heels as she put her empty glass back on the table.

“See, some of us are just more vigilant, darlin’,” Robert laughed, before boldly holding his arm out to wrap it around Elena, pulling her into him. He gave her a small squeeze, akin to a side hug, but proceeded to keep her there. She continued to laugh, wrapping her own arm around his waist as they remained in this casual embrace.

She was more than certain she was imagining things in her drunken state when she felt the pressure of Robert’s lips pressing against the side of her head. Yet, she found herself resting her weight into him, closing herself into him as much as possible.

Sober Robert would never have made such an audacious move on Elena. But as she stood there, tucked into his side, temporarily his, he couldn’t restrain himself. Worst case scenario, she hated it, and he could blame the alcohol the day after. But she didn’t. She only held onto him tighter. 

However, the feeling wasn’t satiated. Her hair, as perfect as it was, wasn’t enough to satisfy the need to be near her. So, after a brief moment of contemplation, Robert lowered his head to plant a kiss on her cheek. 

He wasn’t expecting Elena to move her head at the last minute, his lips landing at the very corner of her mouth. 

“Shit, sorry,” he immediately apologised, pulling his head all the way back. “Meant to…” he gestured to his own face. “Cheek…”

The spot blessed with Roberts lips tingled, as if he’d unloaded some of his energy onto her with the swift, accidental, action. Elena looked up at him in slight shock, her eyebrows raised. Thankfully for Robert, she just shook her head and laughed it off.

“You’re alright, it’s fine…” she reassured, letting her own eyes dance around his flushed features. “Do you want another drink?”

Stop talking like that, Elena, I’m on the verge of crossing a boundary here…

Still somewhat embarrassed by his sloppy approach, he nodded. “Yeah…” He placed his empty glass on the table beside Elena’s, reaching for his pocket.

“No, no,” Elena stopped him, grabbing his wrist. “I’ll get it…” Noticing the unconvinced expression on his face, she continued. “It’s your birthday, Robert, I’m buying your drinks tonight.” No shift. With a small huff, she stepped closer to him and clumsily took his face in her hands, his coarse beard scratchy yet heavenly under her palms. “Seriously…” Upon his reluctant nod, she smiled gently. “Another Carlsberg?” she asked in a whisper. He nodded again. “‘Kay…” Dropping her hands, she gave him a small wink as she passed him, heading to the bar.

Robert let out a long exhale, closing his eyes briefly. He ran his hand through his hair, silently begging his heart to slow down. John’s voice calling him over for him to take a look at Alan’s work-induced scar on his hand brought him down just enough to get through the rest of the night. Fuckin’ Elena…

At the bar, Elena tapped her nails idly along the surface, watching as the bartender darted back and forth. She had jammed herself between the hoards of people waiting to be served. Patient. Be patient, Elena. After a while, she found herself getting agitated, and it became clear that her attempts at getting the barman’s attention were all in vain. I’m gonna have to wait here until everyone else pisses off… Ugh…

“Uh, ‘scuse me, mate, this lady’s been waiting here for a while.”

Lifting her head from her hands, she met the most strikingly green eyes she’d ever seen. She looked over at the bartender as he approached her with an apologetic smile. 

“Sorry, love, we’re a bit chock-a-block tonight. What can I get for you?”

“Uh,” she glanced to the side. “Two pints of Carlsberg, please.”

As the barman turned to fulfil her order, Elena turned to look at the man next to her. He was sipping on a bottle of Double Diamond, gazing up at the vintage artwork behind the bar. “Um, thanks.”

He turned his head to look down at her mid-swallow, and shot her a charming smile. “No worries. Started to get a bit restless there, didn’t ya?” He nodded down at her feet that had now calmed from the relentless tapping.

“Yeah,” she breathed with a shake of her head. “Guess that’s what you get for being smaller than a man.”

“Yer not from around here, are ya?”

“No, uh, I’m from up North. Just outside of Manchester.”

“Ah, Manchester!” He nodded slowly, his smile growing. There was a silence as he took another sip from his bottle. “So, are you at university or somethin’?”

“No, no, I’ve lived here since I was, like, 4-years-old. Moved down to Redditch, and I’ve recently just got me own flat in the city.”

“Independent woman, then, eh?”

She snorted. “Not much choice for an 18-year-old other than to spend thousands on uni or go to work.”

“And you chose the work option, I assume?”

“You’d be assuming correctly, yeah,” she nodded with a smile. “Me friend owns a pub, so it wasn’t that hard to find a job.” She shrugged, standing upright as the bartender placed her two pints in front of her.

“That’ll be thirty pence then, love.”

Elena went for her pocket, but was stopped swiftly by the mystery man next to her. “Let me.”

“No,” she rejected politely, looking back over at where she had left Robert and the lads. “It’s my treat for my friend’s birthday.”

“Fair enough…” he watched her as she paid for the drinks. “Well,” he turned his body to face her properly. “If you won’t let me buy you a drink or two tonight, perhaps you could give me the honour of buying you one another night?”

Elena simply stared at the man, trying to pick apart his brain and search for any hint of deception. Nobody had ever been so straight with her before… It was alluring. A nice change of pace. What could go wrong? Just say yes.

“Alright,” she accepted with a confident nod. “I don’t see why not.” Biting her lip, she watched as he grabbed one of the pub’s feedback cards along with the pencil next to it, quickly jotting down his number and his name.

“Just call me when you get the time,” he handed it to her, but didn’t let it go until he added, “I’ll hold you to that… Sorry, I never got your name?”

“Elena,” she responded softly, looking down at the card once he’d released it. “I’ll make sure to give you a call.” Another glance down at it. “David Henning.” A shy smirk played upon her lips as she folded the card in half and slipped it into her pocket. “Uh, see you around.”

With that, she grabbed the two cold pints, heading back over to where Robert awaited her presence, once again.

[omegaremix]

High Score Pinball + Game On; Spring 2021 & Spring 2022.

If you were an Eighties child, the video game was the pinnacle of your childhood. On Saturdays, my dad took me to the toy store where I sprinted to the game wall, have me choose any stamped ticket and hand it over the counter to customer service where they stocked all the solid state cartridges in the back. They’d hand me the game of choice and I was golden until next week. If I was lucky, he’d take us to Nunley’s Carousel in Baldwin where it was the final time in my life I’d play old electromagnetic machines and driving games that ran on paper sheets - and even film reels and plastic parts (Atari’s F1). We’d also go to Nathan’s in Oceanside. It, too, had an arcade there. Once we came back from his dietician or from my half-sister in Bensonhurst, he ended up taking the whole family for sit-in Chinese and to the Nellie Bly Amusement Park where for one time only I played Atari’s Superman and Hercules pinball tables.

Sunday was an even bigger event. My pop would drive from (also) Bensonhurst all the way out to Long Island where my family and I lived. He’d arrive anywhere between noon to 1PM and stay for an hour before taking me to the South Shore Mall. I’d have the luxury of two hours and $5.00 worth of quarters to play as many games as I could. Roadblasters, Space Harrier, Chase HQ, Marble Madness, skee ball - you name it, they had it, I played it. Pop would break it up and take me to The Emporium (later becoming Nathan’s and after that a sushi house that closed down in 2010) where they also had an arcade itself. Same time limit, same amount of pocket change. The neighborhood delis and convenience stores also had arcade and pinball machines where I clearly remember playing Seicross, Legion, Double Dragon, Ninja Gaiden, Shinobi, and other games too many to mention. I had the best of both worlds at home and beyond. By the time my grade-school years ended, I replenished the game collection my dad once sold for $50.00 and more thanks to my Dallas aunt and uncle. 

The Brentwood era just started for me and Pop had a heart attack while watching the game. He woke up out of it but later relapsed and that was the end for him. I had to take it upon myself to ride my bike to the mall or the pizzeria in the local shopping center behind the middle school to get my Neo-Geo, Super Monaco GP, or Mortal Kombat fix. With reward came risk: Brentwood wasn’t a safe neighborhood compared to the others. Every day I worried about random newjacks and youngbucks coming up to me for handouts just for being seen. Seven or eight kids waiting their turn surrounded the Street Fighter machines at any one of three stores out of fifteen who had them; some even got jumped and assaulted over them because they were caught cheating. Chain-snatchers got the unsuspecting kids when their backs were turned, and even the resting bitch-faces came up to entice me to fight their boyfriends who tried stealing my bike.

As time went by, I moved on from the scummy parts. Visits to the arcades became less frequented no matter at the mall or the amusement park. The carousels and hot dog places went out of business. Console gaming, however, kept going with the Genesis, SNES, Dreamcast, and Playstation throughout my community college and Stony Brook era. I discovered MAME and VPinball so I could stay in touch with myself. I kept it all going until I was sick of dozing off and throwing my time away while my friends, co-workers, and associates made the best of theirs. I finally moved on from gaming, and all the best for it.

It was more than ten years since I played a game of pinball. The Sopranos to be exact. Almost no place on the island where one was to be found. But that all changed last spring when the Video Game Trading Post opened up Long Island’s very first pinball arcade in the South Shore Mall / Westfield. I was stunned and paralyzed. We never asked for it, let alone couldn’t even imagine happening, but we got it. We lost Manhattan’s Modern Pinball and Greenpoint’s Sunshine Laundromat was never the same after the pandemic, so having the arcade return (to the very place where it all started for me and not having to travel to the city for it) was the pale-skinned redheaded Godiva riding on the fucking horse.

It was amazement at first sight. I enter the mall and the sounds emanating from the dark space tells me I’m close. I finally found it. My soul pushed back because I couldn’t believe it. I walk in and the darkness swallowed me in as all the flashing lights, LEDS, and the brightly-lit back-panels fight to be noticed. For $25.00, sometimes $35.00, it was all-you-can-play. I walk around in the dark vortex and the place was huge of its concrete flooring and aromatic wood smell. All three Black Knight tables, all three Pinbots, both Firepowers, Bank Shot, Evel Knievel, Harlem Globetrotters, Tron Legacy, even Police Force when it was at Vinardo’s. I spotted Big Guns, a game I remember from my Nintendo childhood. To my amusement, it was real having to find that Slugfest returned to the exact same mall I played at during the Brentwood era. The best part? Learning that both High Speed and Nine Ball would make their stay. It would make that next return trip all the more urgent. High Speed was the very first machine I ever scored a million on, let alone three. And Nine Ball? The overall design and sound effects of it was a personal must-play for me.

All throughout last Spring and Summer I’d make the effort to be the first one there and the last one to leave. Noon to 8PM. I made one final trip to High Score- before the year was over, leaving it behind in its former incarnation forever. It’s now half of what it used to be. The other half is now home gaming and memorabilia. I knew it would never be as good after when I first found it and won’t expect it to be better. But I’ll never, ever forget it - just like I’ll never forget the ride to Williamsburg’s Rough Trade, the post-punk / d.i.y. and jazz-fusion finds, the Jewish girl from Queens with the straight shoulder-length hair and green eyes who asked me if I had a copy of KIDS, or the two pale gingers with brown eyes I spent forever with at my store. Another day, another payout.

The alignments had another card up its sleeve. The King of Diamonds would be super-ceded by the Ace. The Boy Harsher show was less than two weeks away and I had to visit the Smithhaven Mall to find me a leather jacket and black hat. I walked out with the hat but no jac-. And, as I was walking out, something caught my eye: a shiny colorful array of neon lights. I stop to look at my right and there it was: a new video arcade I never knew existed. I was shut. I step in and to my immediate right was Baby Pac-Man: a cabinet shaped like an upright with a CRT monitor and small pinball playfield below it. It was a machine I only read about but was curious to seek out. Now, here it is. But, I couldn’t go any further as entry was roped off. But I see the sign at the front desk: $20.00 free play all day. It’s 3PM, I wouldn’t get my money’s worth. But I owed it to myself to come back and visit, and visit I did.

The following Wednesday I came back at noon and paid the frail emo casualty up front my $20.00. Does he have any idea what he’s doing here or what this is all about? He wouldn’t care, really. He’s only here to collect and will elicit a fake half-enthusiastic “oh, uh…that’s cool!” when asked. I’m here to revisit my Atari / Nintendo childhood. Eight hours and no time to waste. Let’s have it.

I walk in and there’s three Pac-Man machines grouped together: the 1980 original that became the first-ever character franchise, Baby Pac-Man and Super Pac-Man. Across from it is Ms. Pac-Man. How shameful they couldn’t include her in the boys’ club. There were vector games in Tempest, Lunar Lander, Asteroids, and Star Wars: The Empire Strikes Back in super-sharp and blindingly bright on original CRT monitors. There was Gorf, arguably my very first arcade memory living in Brooklyn. Classics such as Centipede, Marble Madness and Spy Hunter which I haven’t played in its true form since forever. Defender, Robotron 2084, and Berzerk rounded out three of four parts of the Williams epic (Blaster was the fourth). Moon Patrol, Galaxian, Zaxxon, Gyruss, Phoenix, Dig Dug, Vanguard, and Missile Command - games I played endlessly on the home system - were there. Crystal Castles, one I always played on the Atari 2600, felt super-frantic and ultra-responsive on my first time ever playing it. Pengo and Mr. Do! - two games I remember my sis- B-Bomb telling me about - were finally crossed off the must-play list.

I found two extremely rare Nintendo Vs. red tents and with that came Donkey Kong, Donkey Kong Jr., Donkey Kong 3, Punch Out, Popeye, and the original Super Mario Bros. which I always used to play at the neighborhood deli (thanks ma’). Even more impressive was the fact that they had Playchoice machines when the South Shore Mall had them. I walk further and there’s Bad Dudes and the first Double Dragon: agonizingly slow and sluggish as fuck like I remembered it.

There’s driving games such as Super Sprint, Crazy Taxi, Chase HQ, and The Cruisin’ series. But, none more important than Sega’s Hang-On and Outrun, one which my younger bro- and I fought over to play first when our parents took us to the ice cream parlor. Next to those were Virtua Cop and Point Blank which I had zero interest playing because it wasn’t Cheyenne.

Konami, known for some of the best multi-player titles ever, made their presence felt with Super Contra, The Simpsons, Sunset Riders, X-Men, and Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles; the final being the gateway and the token example of nostalgia. There was the fighters’ row: Mortal Kombat II, Virtua Fighter, Tekken 4, Killer Instinct, Marvel Vs. Capcom 2, and Street Fighter II; that final one the basis of my early Brentwood years hanging out in dangerous neighborhoods and being harassed by the youngbucks in pizzerias for quarters. How about not one, not - fuck it - four Neo-Geo MVS’s with such games as Metal Slug 4, Ninja Warriors, Fatal Fury 2, and Samurai Shodown all plugged in and more. Three of those four aforementioned Neo-Geo games all happened during various points of my Brentwood era, coincidentally at the same shopping center as the pizzeria and that down-low mom-and-pop video store in Central Islip.

There were pinball tables such as Spider-Man, Stranger Things, and Star Wars: Episode 1, but couldn’t ever compare to what High Score used to have. Foosball, (a rare) Super Chexx, a Ms. Pac-Man & Galaga cocktail machine, and even Alley Cats: a shuffleboard-slash-bowling hybrid were found. Never played anything like it. Sports-themed uprights in NBA Jam, NHL Ice, and Blades Of Steel which I played all of three minutes before walking away from it and headed for Arkanoid: Revenge Of Doh. I was even taken back by seeing games I never knew existed: Warp Warp and Lady Bug. And finally…Smash TV. I wasted an hour of my valuable life on cheap deaths and repetitious gameplay. I’ll never ever recommend it.

I look above and there was a scoreboard with all the high scores and initials written in chalk. Twin Galaxies this wasn’t and thankfully there were no Billy Mitchell sightings. Another thing up above us was a mural of Blaze, Axel, and Adam of Sega’s Streets Of Rage, deemed one of the best and most successful side-scrolling beat ‘em-ups ever. Further back of the arcade I found a bar set-up and a big projector screen behind it for anyone wanting to play Mario Kart on the big-screen. I looked hard enough to find authentic original operator’s manuals of Jungle Hunt, Centipede, Xevious, Asteroids, and Missile Command framed and hung on the wall. I also laserdiscs also framed and hung on the wall near the arcades storefront. Flashdance, License To Drive, Vision Quest, and - I kid you not - Dirty Dancing. Which reminded me…where the hell were Dragon’s Lair and Space Ace? And no Eighties’ fantasy world wouldn’t be complete without at least two small CRT TV’s set up to play Super Mario Bros. 3 and E.T. It was the perfect set-up found in millions of kid’s rooms everywhere. And they still weren’t done.

The one thing Game On had that High Score Pinball didn’t, and this is the major validator here, was the Eighties soundtrack streamed on the overhead. High Score- only had the natural sound of licensed one-liners, PCBs, electromagnetics, and solid states emanating all the bells and hard solenoid knocks of free games. Only once had they brought out a portable speaker blasting Ozzy’s Nineties hits and alternative. Not Game On. Every song was an unforgettable Eighties throwback. It had to be to fit within the nostalgic theme of gaming’s wonder years of the very-late Seventies to the mid-Nineties.

The Seventies will always be something I’ll explore because it’s a decade I mostly missed out on. Exploring and discovering obscure jazz / fusion, soul, groove, and the hits are all a product of my fascination with hip-hop and rap’s sampling culture, console gaming, money shows, chyrons, station i.d.’s, production logos, opening and closing credits, and promos-. The Eighties were different because I lived through them 100% and still remember it clear as day. I can appreciate new wave, synthpop, the new romantics, Billboard hits, freestyle, radio plays, hair metal, and anything else I listened to as part of my Atari / Nintendo childhood. The arcade’s streaming playlist (could they not afford a cassette player?) was paired with the many original arcade cabinets of their time and served its nostalgic purpose, as intended, to its full unbeatable meaning. 

With almost every song played on the overhead there were more childhood memories that followed them. J. Geils Band’s “Centerfold” was my first-ever music memory when my other half-sister played it constantly on our turntable in our family’s second-floor Borough Park apartment. The night my dad threw the Christmas tree out on the porch and my ma’ taking both my younger brother and I to stay at gramma’s for a few days. Riding in the passenger’s seat of our white rusted ‘78 Cadillac Coupe Deville and the bubbled rainbow that formed at the top of its windshield. Being stuck on the side of the Southern State Parkway heading home as my younger bro- and I rode in the backseat with toy dashboards. The trips in my parents rusty beige Chevy van where its crusty steel interior and the smell of petrichor created a viciously sickening mess. The two ‘79 yellow and blue AMC VAM Pacer X’s my parents had. Hurricane Gloria and the week-long power outage. Friday night’s Miami Vice. Saturday afternoons spent in the basement playing Atari and watching WWF and NWA. Saturday night’s Golden Girls where the whole family died laughing. Sunday’s Long Island pop station WBLI’s Top Ten countdown on public access television. Our babysitter’s daughter who was the cutest thing of curly black hair, dark eyes, and tall stature who smelled like sparkle and white plush. My bro- and I taking apart our ma’s floral-print couches and making pillow forts out of them. Dad’s in-wall Akai eight-track player and the overhead speakers. Easter’s various assortment of sweet-smelling wax crayons and activity books. Nights spent watching New York Yankee games on PIX, New York Rangers on MSG, Night Flight and Dance Party USA. Family dinner night at Enzo’s in Bay Shore for minestrone, calzones, and newspaper clippings of Italy’s World Cup victories. Assholes in Chams tank-tops smoking in their garages while working on their prized ‘77 Trans Ams. Playing NES all night before getting ready to ride to Staten Island at three in the morning to pick up my dad’s side of the family.

The more I played the more I immersed myself back into familiar territory that I haven’t visited in decades. It’s an absolute rarity when all the right authentic elements that used to be come together as one and re-create a near-perfect rendition of what the Eighties felt like. It’s not just the soundtrack, the manuals and laserdiscs that supplanted the setting, but the actual aesthetic itself. See the decals on the side of the cabinets and the built-in one-of-a-kind joysticks and steering wheels. The amazing control panel artwork. Plenty of CRT monitors and their rasterized graphics, scanlines, ripples, burn-in, and scrambled graphical glitches. Buttons, plenty of buttons of all types. And no more having to bang on the steel coin doors when those quarters got jammed. Not a burn mark in sight and the smell of old wood cabinets filled the room - exactly how I remembered it all.

It was nearing 9PM. The trip back in time was about to end and the mall was finally winding down. I had to have one last game in before having to walk off memory lane and say goodbye. That idiot kid wasn’t there but was replaced by some cute skinny hipster girl punk with pink hair and ladened with piercings, eager to talk to any cliched grown-up punk dad or fading former Gen-X’er wanting to share a story or two about how they missed those simpler days. I’ll never get the spirit and being of the Eighties back, but I no longer miss them now that I have a monthly pilgrimage to Game On. I retire for the night and head out. She unhooks the velvet rope and clears the way for me to leave with a smile.

“Have a good night!” she says. You know I will.

Heart: “Magic Man”

Eddie Money & Ronnie Spector: “Take Me Home Tonight”

Run DMC: “It’s Tricky”

Cutting Crew: “I Just Died In Your Arms Tonight”

Toto: “Africa”

A-Ha: “Take On Me”

Foreigner: “Waiting For A Girl Like You”

Bananarama: “I Heard A Rumor”

Wham: “Wake Me Up Befoe You Go-Go”

Mike & The Mechanics: “Silent Running”

Michael Jackson: “Billie Jean”

Rick Springfield: “Jessie’s Girl”

Bruce Springsteen: “Dancer In The Dark”

Pat Benetar: “Love Is A Battlefield”

J. Geils Band: “Centerfold”

Simple Minds: “Don’t You Forget About Me”

Tommy Tutone: “867-5309 / Jenny”

Cyndi Lauper: “Girls Just Wanna’ Have Fun”

Pointer Sisters: “I’m So Excited”

Starship: “We Built This City”

Steve Winwood: “Higher Love”

Whitney Houston: “I Wanna’ Dance With Somebody”

Survivor: “The Search Is Over”

The Outfields: “I Don’t Wanna’ Lose Your Love Tonight”

Flashdance original motion picture soundtrack

The Romantics: “What I Like About You”

Scorpions: Rock You Like A Hurricane”

Quiet Riot: “Come On (Feel The Noise)”

Pointer Sisters: “I’m So Excited”

Fabulous Thunderbirds: “Tough Enough”

Steve Perry: “Oh Sherrie”

Madonna: “Borderline”

Tiffany: “I Think We’re Alone Now”

Belinda Carlisle: “Mad About You”

Debbie Gibson: “Out Of The Blue”

Phil Collins: “Sssudio”

Lionel Richie: “All Night Long”

RUM DMC & Aerosmith: “Walk This Way”

Rick Astley: “Never Gonna’ Give You Up”

Bananarama: “Cruel Summer”

Cyndi Lauper: “Time After Time”

Kim Carnes: “Bette Davis Eyes”

Sting: “Every Breath You Take”

Heart: “What About Love”

Foreigner: “I Wanna’ Know What Love Is”

Bruce Springsteen: “Jack & Diane”

Mr. Mister: “Take These Broken Wings”

Bangles: “Hazy Shade Of Winter”

Don Henley: “Boys Of Summer”

Dire Straits: “Money For Nothing”

The Cars: “Shake It Up”

Peter Gabriel: “Big Time”

Bon Jovi: “Livin’ On A Prayer”

Allanah Myles: “Black Velvet”

Culture Club: “Karma Chamelion”

Mike & The Mechanics: “All I Need Is A Miracle”

Starship: “Sarah”

Wham: “Wake Me Up (Before You Go Go)”

Billy Ocean: “Caribbean Queen”