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

[meeblo]

Can i get a prize now-

Ok real question

Is there an Arknights character that is like, COMPLETELY FORGOTTEN, but that you like a massive amount? Like a character we saw in a side event once and never again, but you wish people cared more about them

Hmm, that's a good question. I guess maybe Elba, if that counts. She's from the A1 Operations Preparation Detachment manga (manhua?) and cameos in A Light Spark in Darkness' last vignette albeit without a unique sprite.

Otherwise most of the characters I like aren't obscure enough to really be called forgotten. I remember liking Anita from Under Tides but it's been a while since I read that event. Domma from Mansfield Break gets discussed enough as an obscure character appearing in one event that I don't think she really is that obscure anymore. Sonny, Mary, and Mechanist were all interesting in Dorothy's Vision but probably not minor/obscure enough to fit the question. Really any of the Il Siracusano cast; realistically they're probably not super well known but I remember all of them and will beat the events of Il Siracusano into the head of anyone who doesn't remember why Rubio is an S tier character.

In terms of truly obscure stuff, Dijkstra appears only as mentions in a ton of places, connected to Closure, neo-Reunion, Cannot Goodenough, D.D.D., and more. I really want to know what their deal is. Doesn't have a sprite as far as I know

[yangfleurs]

stray kids reaction: they call you clingy

maknae line

pt.2

(hyung line pt.1 is here)

jisung

what you liked most about being with jisung was that it was never complicated with him. you two seemed to always be in tune with each other, knowing when to keep your distance and when to show your affectionate sides. but you knew jisung was an introvert, through and through, and there was nothing he loved more than his time alone. and so you left him to himself when he needed you to; you and him both knew it was good for couples to have their own lives and interests outside of each other.

it was one of those days with jisung, where he needed to spend some time with himself to recharge so he could be his best self at work the next day. you didn’t mind, obviously; you were a busy person yourself, and between school and work, there really wasn’t any time for you to let loose with jisung today anyway. 

you spent practically the entire morning after breakfast sat on the living room floor and glued to your laptop, fervently typing away on a paper you definitely should’ve started earlier. but if you pushed through it the whole day and only took a few short breaks, you were sure you’d be done by midnight. you were ready to take your first one of those planned breaks to make lunch and eat, but a wave of laziness washed over you. you didn’t feel like cooking at all, not after pouring your brain’s contents into your work for so long. you started convincing yourself you could work through your designated lunch break and just eat a big dinner when jisung came out of the bedroom, bundled up in his puffer jacket.

“I’m going to the convenience store.” he grumbled out, shuffling towards the door.

why didn’t you think of that? you could grab some cheap, prepared food to eat there, while also getting some fresh air on your skin and a little bit of time to spend with jisung. “let’s go together! I need to grab something to eat, too.” you said, rushing to your bedroom to grab your own jacket. you quickly scrambled through your closet, finding your own puffer, before heading back into the living room. when you came back out though, jisung was nowhere in sight. you figured he was just downstairs and hurried to throw on your shoes so he wouldn’t grow impatient waiting for you. if there was one thing jisung hated, it was waiting, you thought to yourself as you skittered down the stairs.

when you got out of your building, jisung was already walking towards the direction of the convenience store, clearly not waiting for you. you ran to catch up with him, a little embarrassed at how he left you behind.

“hey, why didn’t you wait? I literally only took two minutes.” you mumbled, a little bummed out by his attitude.

“I wanna get back to my show, y/n.” he said with an over-exaggerated sigh which made you roll your eyes. 

“you’re always so serious about your shows, it’s cute.” you giggled a little, leaning towards him and reaching for his hand. just as you were about to hold it, he briskly tucked his hand into his jacket pocket, keeping his eyes straight ahead and away from you. you coughed a little and turned your face the other direction to hide the humiliating red crawling up your neck and onto your face.

you arrived at the convenience store in complete silence, immediately going your separate ways to grab your food. you grabbed a triangle kimbap for lunch and then a ramen you could make quickly later in the night for dinner. you made yourself an iced coffee too, hoping some caffeine would help you focus in on your work and ignore the tension between you and your boyfriend. you found him already at the counter, putting his things down. you put your things down to the side of the counter so you could search for your wallet. you pat around your pants and then your jacket, but you don’t feel it anywhere on you.

“shit, shit, I forgot my wallet.” you groaned.

"we’re together.” he muttered, pushing your things with his and handing the employee his card. you thanked him quietly, hiding your smile by looking down. there was your jisung, considerate and always looking out for you. 

“you forgot your wallet on purpose, didn’t you? y/n, I know you’re on the clingier side, but don’t you think that’s too much?” he huffed as he waited for his card to go through, “I asked for literally one day on my own and you just had to follow me to the convenience store and then you just conveniently didn’t remember your wallet? seriously?” he rolled his eyes.

you were stunned, to say the least. the employee looked at you both awkwardly, coughing a little and turning away so she didn’t embarrass you. but it was too late for that; as he started to put the food in his bag, you yanked him by the arm to turn him to face you. he looked at you, completely bewildered at your aggression. you didn’t care, though---if he got to give you an earful, you should return the favor.

“who do you take me for, jisung? god forbid I forget my wallet while rushing out to catch up with my boyfriend who’s running away from me like I’m some sort of fucking plague,” you seethed, “I haven’t eaten in hours, jisung. I’ve been working my ass off, not once even trying to talk to you. I am not as obsessed with you as you’ve deluded yourself into thinking.” you spat, shoving your food into his arms. “and since you’re so concerned about the what, ten dollars, you had to spend on me? take the food. I just lost my appetite.”

you walked out of the convenience store and away from him in the opposite direction, so you could both hide the tears that you were bound to spill as well as to go anywhere but back to your shared apartment. 

you headed to your school, figuring you could finish your paper at the library there. you had already wasted so much time, and an all-nighter was soon going to be inevitable. you also knew you had a limited amount of energy left in you on an empty stomach, hearing it growl as you thought of your situation. you quietly groaned, sniffling as you trudged along. you’d kill to just have your boyfriend comfort you and support you through this grueling assignment, but instead, you were burning with humiliation at being berated by him in front of a complete stranger.

you walked slowly, counting your steps and hoping you’d hear jisung’s heavy footsteps running to catch up with you any moment now. but that moment never came, not even after you’d barely walked half a block in fifteen minutes. you had both, literally, parted ways. and it made you wonder if it symbolized something more than just a small argument.

felix

you were walking backstage to meet your boyfriend, felix, and his members to cheer them on for their final music bank performance of the season. this was a tradition for you; at the end of all of their final comeback performances, you would bring them as well as their staff a well-deserved, expensive meal to end the comeback strongly. it wasn’t burdensome for you; if anything, you were always thankful to them for taking care of felix and you wanted to express your gratitude through feeding them some delicious food. 

you walked in clumsily, stumbling a little as the boys’s manager let you past security. you greeted him politely, handing him the food that was meant for him and the staff. you greeted the staff as well, bowing deeply at all of them like you always did; you knew they were practically family to your boyfriend, so you treated them with as much respect as you would his actual family. you turned to their manager again to speak.

“I’ll take the food for the boys in myself.” you let their manager know with a smile. he nodded, thanking you for the food for the millionth time before freeing up the hallway for you to go down. you bowed one last time before heading to the waiting room. as you turned the corner, you saw changbin coming from another direction .

“oh, hey y/n!” changbin waved, immediately grabbing the heavy bags out of your hands. “I just got out of the restroom, let’s head to the waiting room together.” he said, smiling. you nodded, thanking him for his help. you both chatted as you walked down the hallway, catching up on each other’s lives and listening to him explain how excited they were about upcoming plans for the group. you listened with a smile, making a note to bring it up to felix later when you got some time to talk to him in the waiting room. 

you made it to the door of their waiting room first, and noticed the door was left slightly ajar. you overheard a familiar voice, chan’s, addressing your boyfriend.

“so how are things with y/n?” you heard chan ask felix. “she should be coming with the food any time now. she’s so sweet.” you smiled at his compliment. you shushed changbin as he caught up with you; you needed to hear what felix would say.

“well...she’s clingy for sure.” he chuckled. “I don’t think I’ve ever dated someone who needed this much attention, hyung.”

 you were taken aback. is that what he thought of you? were you just some needy, clingy person pestering him for his attention all the time? you were a little embarrassed, but not nearly as much as you were hurt. you and felix both loved each other’s attention, you couldn’t believe he would say something like that. you gulped, grabbing changbin’s arm and heading backwards to the corner you had just turned.

“y/n, I’ll talk to him.” he said, distressed. you knew changbin, and you knew he would try to fix the situation like the good friend he was.

“no, you won’t. you’re going to tell him I was busy today and only had time to drop the food off. I’ll figure it out later, okay?” you said in a rush, wanting to get out of the building. the whole place suddenly felt suffocating, you couldn’t stand being there, somewhere you clearly weren’t wanted. you didn’t want felix to think you were any more needy than he already thought you were. your insecurities were slowly creeping in on you, and it was distressing.

changbin hesitated but finally relented when you promised you would talk to felix about it when he came home tonight. you practically ran out of the corridor, giving nothing more than a cursory bow and goodbye to the staff and manager, shabbily covering most of your face with your hand to hide that fact that you were on the verge of crying.

you got into your car and let yourself let go. the tears flowed freely, and you had no intention of stifling them. your relationship with felix was the closest thing to perfect you’d ever experienced. you adored how attentive he was to you---he never, not once, missed a birthday or anniversary. he was the first person to congratulate you when you passed your exams, and the first one to comfort you when you didn’t. there was never a moment when you were both home that he wasn’t following you around, trailing you even to the bathroom sometimes just so he wouldn’t be apart from you. you loved it and you thought he loved it, too. and the attention wasn’t one-sided, either---otherwise, you wouldn’t have even come here, arms overflowing with expensive food for practically everyone that interacted with him. 

you sighed, satisfied with the release of emotions, and wiped your eyes carelessly. you drove yourself home, not even bothering to listen to the radio or try to calm down from your rush of feelings. you got home, unlocking the door and plodding into your apartment, feet feeling weighed down by how heavy your mood had become. you chugged a whole glass of water; all that crying had made you thirsty---and exhausted. you slid your jacket off and onto the ground before plopping down right there on the couch, not even bothering to change or wipe your makeup off. you didn’t want to do anything except stop thinking about the words your boyfriend had said about you to his friend earlier. you drifted off to sleep just like that, with mascara tears and a broken heart.

seungmin

there were a lot of things that went unspoken between you and seungmin. that was one of the best parts about dating him---you could both show your love for each other in the way you were most comfortable with. for both of you, that happened to be doing things to make the other’s day a little easier. 

seungmin took the trash out early in the morning so you wouldn’t have to do the heavy lifting on your own. you made him his coffee before he left. you would order lunch to where he was, whether it be the company building or at the dorm with the boys, in advance so he wouldn’t have to bother with cooking anything. he would stop by during your lunch break at work with your coffee order and a small bite to eat in case you didn’t pack food that day. he has your favorite show ready to play as soon as you’ve washed up after work and you’re always ready to greet him with open arms after a long and tiring day at practice.

you both anticipated what the other needed, and that made you guys always in tune with each other. you’d never even had a serious fight, the worst one being a five-minute quarrel about seungmin buying the wrong shampoo on your grocery list, which was easily resolved by him driving to the store after work and exchanging it for the right one.

tonight, you knew seungmin would come home exhausted. he had practice from sunrise to sunset, with only a short break here and there to eat or use the bathroom. the choreographer for the comeback they were preparing for was one of the best, but she was known for being incredibly detail-oriented (which was, of course, what made her the best), and according to your friend and seungmin’s, hyunjin, she was especially keen on ironing out all the tiny mistakes seungmin was making. she was the reason your boyfriend was exhausting himself for endless hours and the reason he was going to come home tonight like a walking corpse.

you stuck a gatorade in the freezer to chill it quickly, knowing he would need the reminder to replenish himself. you warmed up the food on the stove, laid out his sleep clothes on the bed, and started cleaning up your home so the both of you could head to bed right after you both ate dinner and he showered.

you started putting your hair up and walking back to the living room after washing up yourself when you heard the jingling of keys outside of your front door. seungmin was home.

the door creaked open and seungmin came in, looking pale and drained of life. he didn’t greet you, which you didn’t blame him for---you knew he just wanted to get his rest as soon as possible.

“hey seung, rough day?” you asked gently, earning a passing grumble as he walked straight past you to the bathroom. you sighed, walking to the kitchen to fix him a plate and pulled out the gatorade so he could eat quickly. he could be as moody as he wanted, you weren’t about to let your boyfriend go to sleep without dinner, especially after the hours of choreography he had just gone through. 

the water droplets of the shower softly padded against the walls of your apartment for a couple of minutes before it was quickly shut off. seungmin stepped out right after, lazily drying his hair with a towel as he walked straight into the bedroom. you hummed, waiting for him to come back after changing into his sleep clothes. but a couple minutes soon became ten, which soon became fifteen. you got up from the sofa and walked into the bedroom, worried as to what was taking him so long. you found him lying in bed, scrolling through his phone.

“coming to bed?” he mumbled, not looking up from the screen.

“I made dinner and put out some gatorade for you, come eat.” you said, tugging his leg a little as a sign for him to get up.

“not hungry.” he sighed, turning a little in bed.

“come on, seung. I know you and you definitely skipped lunch to practice more. you need to eat well if you want to do your best tomorrow.” you told him firmly but gently so he knew you were serious.

“why are you so pushy, y/n,” he rolled his eyes, “you’re not my mom. I’ll eat whenever I want.”

you cringed a little at his rudeness but persisted. “seungmin, just eat something. and then we’ll go to bed, it’s not that hard. just do it for me?” you asked.

“oh my god, you are so pushy and clingy. please just leave me alone, you don’t need to always be on my ass.” he groaned, turning off his phone, and turning his face into the pillow.

you were bewildered. seungmin knew you were the type to look out for him; if anything, he should be sympathizing with you, considering he would’ve done the same for you after a rough day. his words felt like being slapped, the hurt fresh and confusing. you turned around and left the room.

“where are you going? can we please just sleep.” he whined.

“I’m sleeping on the couch, I do not want to be next to you right now.” you muttered, heading to the living room.

“seriously? dramatic much?” he groaned, “whatever, suit yourself.” he mumbled turning off the bedside lamp to sleep. you sighed, closing the door behind you.

you covered the food you had ready for seungmin before plopping down onto the couch. you pulled the living room throw blanket on top of you and tried to fall asleep. your legs were cramped together on the too-small couch and your neck was in an awkward position that you knew would hurt in the morning but all you could do was accept your fate and sigh. you shuffled a little, closing your eyes tightly. but with seungmin’s words still reeling in your mind, you knew there was no way you would be getting any sleep tonight.

jeongin

jeongin was your best friend as much as he was your boyfriend; teasing and poking fun at each other was a natural part of your relationship. it wasn’t uncommon for you to take light jabs at each other; you both knew not to take it too seriously---or to take it too far.

it was an unusually quiet evening at the dorms. a bunch of the guys had gone out for a drink and dinner, save for jeongin, who stayed back to spend time with you. you guys were sitting on the couch, stuffed to the brim with a bunch of takeout---you had gotten a promotion at work and jeongin was keen on celebrating. jeongin laid down in your lap with a whiny groan.

“remind me to never order food on an empty stomach ever again.” he mumbled into your lap, making you giggle.

“thank you for treating me, baby.” you hummed, running your fingers through his hair.

he shot up to look you in the eyes and smiled sweetly, pulling your face closer to his and kissing you gently.

“ew, jeongin!” you heard felix yell from the door.

“in the living room? our innie’s an adult!” lino laughed.

jeongin practically flew to the other side of the couch. neither one of you had heard the door unlock and open, nor had you seen all the members pile into the room.

“he has a way of surprising people,” you chuckled a little, patting him on the cheek, “I’m gonna go to the bathroom, be right back.” you winked at him as the red on his cheeks only grew brighter from your teasing.

you headed to the bathroom at the end of the hallway, laughing to yourself thinking about the hell the members were probably giving jeongin right now. you quickly used the bathroom and cleaned up your appearance a bit before you headed back. you straightened out your clothes as you walked back. before you turned the corner, you heard jeongin’s voice loudly defending himself to the boys.

“and besides, y/n’s super clingy and needy for attention. she wouldn’t have left me alone until I gave her a damn kiss! leave me alone, you guys are the worst.” he huffed angrily.

“so you’re just going to make shit up about me and blame me for a kiss you initiated? what, so your friends won’t tease you a little? grow the fuck up.” you rolled your eyes, feeling the irritation start to make your skin burn.

he sat there silently, not even bothering to correct himself or apologize. the boys dispersed immediately, not wanting to get caught in the crossfire of your (albeit justified) explosive temper. you scoffed at his immaturity, turning for the door and angrily shoving your feet into your shoes and grabbing your coat off of its hanger.

“call me when you decide to stop acting like a dumb kid who can’t handle his friends seeing him act like a boyfriend to his girlfriend.” you spat. you slammed the front door behind you, still coming down from the adrenaline rush your confrontation with jeongin gave you. it hurt you; how could jeongin of all people make you into a needy, annoying girlfriend? all of that, for what? to save face in front of his friends? you sighed, deciding to just head home to your apartment and call it a night.

[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

[soulnouta]

‧₊˚ ⋅ ౨Patrick Headcannons with a ballerina gfৎ ⋅˚₊‧

ᡣ𐭩ྀིྀིྀི : 𝓘 'm think I'm super late with this imagine, sorry, divas, I was very busy this month but anyway, let's get to the point

౨ৎ ˖ ࣪⊹ 𝓒𝓸𝓷𝓽𝓪𝓲𝓷𝓼 : NSFW | 18+ | Headcannons | Mentions of D3@d Animals | Sociopathic and Solipsistic Behavior

────࿔‧ ֶָ֢˚˖𐦍˖˚ֶָ֢ ‧࿔────

𝜗𝜚 You and Patrick met when you arrived at school, ever since Henry realized how smart you were he forced you to do his homework, until you and the Bowers gang started walking around together and your intimacy grew stronger, you never liked their attitudes, you hated it when they smoked, when they drank, when they skipped school, when they vandalized, stole and bullied The kids from The Losers Club, you would never get used to it but even so sometimes you could make them apologize to The Losers Club, but only SOMETIMES ! !

𝜗𝜚One day you and Patrick were alone at Henry's house, he went with Belch and Vic to buy more cigarettes, while you were memorizing the steps in the empty room Patrick watched you on the couch, he he gave grades for your spins and stretches, he wasn't a teacher but he was very demanding, you thought it was funny, until things got hotter between the two of you, you then got caught sleeping in Henry's father's bed upstairs, until then Patrick thought it was going to be a one-time thing, he never hid the fact that he thought you were beautiful but it was just teasing until he then decided to date you the next day, was it fast? It was, it was random, VERY.

𝜗𝜚He and his gang used to watch you from the ballet room window during class, they had a habit of barging into the room to ask stupid things or always making the excuse that they went the wrong way, but Patrick,On that, another normal day with you training, Patrick came without knocking on the door, he came to you and simply said "So, now you're going to date with me, okay? Bye, Y/N" and he left leaving you confused but you couldn't hide that you liked him too so yes, you didn't agree with him at the time but you were considering if you were already his girlfriend

𝜗𝜚You guys never really fought, other than silly arguments when Patrick is usually late to pick her up from ballet school or when you're practicing and Patrick starts rubbing against you, before you didn't care much but now you usually do, he goes to the kitchen and comes back, quickly squeezes your thigh, maybe your chest or hugs you from behind and whispers dirty things in your ear, you even got used to his hypersexual behavior, because sex was the only thing that made him feel something strong, he is super antisocial, if he is not talking with the gang he is talking to you, but you don't try to make him socialize more, because he doesn't want to.

𝜗𝜚Patrick didn't tell you about the fridge, he may be a horrible person, you know that, but really his only fear (besides leeches) is that he'll lose you, Patrick hates metaphors but He always creates the same sentence in his mind "My music box can't break" he thinks as if you are the ballerina in his music box, you need to keep dancing beautifully.for him, it's what keeps him alive, every time he feels like he's done something wrong he feels like the music box is closing, he doesn't want that, that's the most emotional thought he's ever had about someone,but he never intended to tell you about it, too bad, because if he did you would be so happy, it would make you not have to think twice about whether he wants you for your body or for body and soul.

𝜗𝜚Sometimes sex is a boring word for you, you're so used to Patrick opening his pants anywhere, your house, his house, his friends' house ,school bathroom, Patrick once had the craziest idea of all to have sex in his neighbor's car, who left the car open, at least it was quick.

𝜗𝜚Patrick has a fetish for spit, knives, etc. He once asked you if he could put his initial near your pussy, you immediately said no, but Patrick is disgusting, if he doesn't do something He does another, he has a habit of tracing his name or his initial on some part of your body with his tongue, sometimes he spits on your pussy, lubricating it and then licks it deep down, you never really admitted it, but it's hot,Patrick sometimes makes jokes that he'll burn you with the embers of a lighter, strange, because he's never done that, he loves his body, as much as he likes to see the your body hurt and he he doesn't like take care of the injuries,so,he doesn't burn you or cut you.

𝜗𝜚He doesn't like aftercare, most of the time he just cums on your breasts or mouth and in the end he falls on the bed and starts snoring immediately, you don't care much, maybe you don't care because you're also relieved to finally finish, because Patrick can make you cum once, twice, three or even four times, if he's not satisfied he'll do more, he really doesn't care if you're tired In fact, he loves to see your tired face and the torture in your eyes, it's even better that you still cum, every time.

𝜗𝜚When you're in the car he lets you choose the song since he chose another one later, it's funny, you choose songs very different from his taste, literally, Cherry Blossom Ice Tea meme ,you choose songs like Playground Love and he puts Mayhem(LMAO)

𝜗𝜚He has two strange ways of showing that he loves you, first: either he is very clingy, hugs you, kisses you, sleeps with you, second: he chases you, steals your panties, watches you at the ballet, a lot hand anywhere and if any boy smiles at you besides the Bowers gang, he doesn't mind going back home and getting blood on the carpet,You never talked to him about him coming back all bloody, yes, you know he killed some boys but you're afraid of what he might say,at least it doesn't haunt you and it only happened twice, the good part is that it wasn't anyone special, it wasn't The Losers Club, Patrick is still trying to understand why you like them, he He likes to know that he has a girlfriend who is cute and kind to everyone, but he doesn't like to think that she is kind even to "flamers",Patrick once stole some pencils from Richie and then threw trash into his backpack, you immediately pulled him by the arm,made him apologize to Richie ,No matter how much you make him forgive The Losers Club sometimes, he secretly continues to torment them. Patrick doesn't mind being forced to apologize to others, because in the end he does shit again.

𝜗𝜚It took Patrick a while to realize that you were real, in fact, it took him a long time, he didn't care much about the spirituality of knowing if you were real or not, but sometimes he had connections with you then he thought yes, you were real, he would do everything to protect you, if you died, he would go back to being alone, he would hate that, he wanted you alive, you and he would be real, but in the future maybe he will say about this with you, maybe when you're adults.

[formulaforza]

masterlist

multi-part works

miss americana & the heartbreak prince [in progress]

seasons of love [completed]

bite-sized fics

one-shots

said something stupid, instead of 'i love you' (cl16)

"When you were young, your mother once told you she thought you and Charles were each one half of a puzzle--incomplete without the other. You’re lucky to have him, she told you, people spend their whole lives looking for the other half of their puzzle."

this one and the next (cl16)

"You see him for the first time at a café. You’re sixteen and don’t even like coffee, but your best friend is dragging you in. He’s working behind the counter, flustered and busy, running around mixing drinks and taking orders. "Que voulez-vous commander madame?” He asked your friend, and she ordered. “Et vous?” I don’t drink coffee, you told him. He smiled, goofy, something familiar in his eyes. You noted his nametag, carefully drawn on with a chalk marker. Charles."

you gotta move, or move on (cl16)

"I feel like I barely know you anymore, you said once, on the phone, in the middle of the night because it was the only time you got calls from him anymore. He’s in America, racing with Sauber now and you haven’t been to a single race outside of Monaco." 

oh, simple thing (cs55)

"“It’s dead,” you said, took it from him and tossed it aside. “It’s not nice to pick flowers, Carlito. It kills them.” He burst into tears and your mother scolded you the rest of the way home, even though it was her who always told you to leave the wildflowers wild. After some time and consideration (a plate of dinosaur nuggets, half of Cinderella, and a bedtime story) you’d decided maybe Carlos was right to cry about the dead flower."

blonde hair, lemonade tea (mv33)

"Max has been working in the nursery since the two of you got home from Abu Dhabi. He won’t let you anywhere near it, and makes you wear a mask when you even walk down the hall past the freshly painted bedroom. Each night you think he couldn’t become more protective over you, and each morning you’re surprised to find that somehow, he is." 

strawberry wine (dr3)

part two: everywhere, everything

"Danny also moves around the place like he owns it, which, if it was up to him he probably would. He hums your name as he moves past, taps the opposite shoulder to the one he leans over, reading your textbook over your shoulder. “It’s seventeen,” he quips."

you can take it off (lh44)

"And then there was Lewis, the last to arrive, who never called you kid, who never viewed you as one. He sits adjacent you in the red, high back leather booth and takes up a seat and a half, the toe of his shoe brushing against the side of yours, flashing you apologetic puppy dog eyes every time he bumps against yours." 

if walls could talk (cl16)

"He drags you into the living room, towards the rest of the evening festivities, with his arm tossed over your shoulder. Between that, and the whole let me get your eyelash thing minutes earlier, you’re as close to certain a person can get that he and his girlfriend are still broken up."

caught in a blue (cl16)

"You take a seat on your porch steps. Voices pour out louder, now. They’ve gotten rowdier with every lap you’ve done. A cousin pulls the old squeaky door open behind you, and you jump in your seat, turning around to see who’s busted you. They hold their hands up defensively, mouth a quick sorry like they’d walked in on you changing, and disappear back into the house. You pull your braid over your shoulder, twirl it around your finger carefully. Nervously, you ask: “Do you think we speak too often?”"

blurbs

love letter (cl16) cupcakes (ms47) snowflakes (cs55) carousel (cs55) rainy days (cl16) puppy (ms47) daddy-daughter dance (dr3) furniture (cl16) diamond ring (cl16) lunch date (ms47) it will come back (cl16) coming home (cs55) the nearness of you (cl16) jupiter (mv33) when you're ready (cs55) nowhere in particular (ls18)

social media aus

curveball (cl16) birthday (cl16) vlog (ms47) a bet is a bet (cl16) jpg (dr3) take me down (cs55) summer lovin' (cs55) in the club (aa23)

head-cannons

max and dating lewis and yearning

copyright © 2023 formulaforza and absolutelynotmate-archive all right reserved. do not under any circumstance plagarize, edit, repurpose, or repost any of my original work. this includes fics, blurbs, aus, headcannons, and edits.

[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. 

[lunarw0rks]

Through The Ashes | Chapter Six

Summary: You've been given an offer to join the 141 Task Force. Upon taking it, you find yourself ensnared with the mysterious masked man who won't take his eyes off you.

Warning(s): explicit content (18+), jealous!ghost, car sex, fingering, bite play kinda?, p in v sex, size kink??, themes of terrorism, canon-typical violence, depictions of death, PTSD themes

A/N: i hope you enjoy! | Word Count: 3.9k

꒦꒷ MAIN MASTERLIST ꒷꒦ GHOST MASTERLIST ⋆ ⚘ 🕊 ˚✧ ₊˚ʚ prev. chapter | next chapter // requests | ao3 | playlist

Do Not Negotiate

When you arrived in Chicago, the sounds of the busy city never stopped. The number of civilians walking around at any given moment made you sick to your stomach. They have no clue what kind of danger they’re in—the violence you’re witness to every day.

“Laswell says Hassan was picked up and brought somewhere Downtown. They smuggled the missile here, but the target location they’re after is still unknown.” Price’s voice rang over the burner phone. He ended the call before you could say another word.

You tossed the phone into a trashcan and kept walking, scoping out the district you’ll be hiding out in with your team.

A hand pops out of the dark alleyway and yanks you into it. You’re about to reach for your pistol, but stop when you see his eyes. “What the fuck is wrong with you? I almost shot you!” You exclaimed, looking around you in case someone was eyeing the two of you.

“You’re practically walking around with a target on your back, Sergeant,” His voice emerges more as a growl.

“I went out for some fresh air, the hideout is only a few blocks away.” You say in your defense, removing yourself from his grip. “You’re the one slithering around in the dark, Sir.”

Ever since he spilled his guts to you in Las Almas, there was an eerie serene feeling between the two of you. You had no choice but to stay professional. You heavily doubt he’ll make the mistake of being vulnerable around you again.

“I’ve been tailing you since you walked out the door. You need better ears.”

You scoffed at the audacity of him being anywhere near you. He wouldn’t be unless he was ordered to. “Price put you on this? I didn’t ask for a babysitter.”

He finally steps out of the darkness, continuing to follow behind each step you take. “Captain’s worried about you.” He’s taunting you.

“Yeah, I’m sure he is.” You keep your distance ahead of him, picking up the pace of your walk. The sooner you get back to the hideout, the sooner this conversation will end.

You finally approach the building, not bothering to hold the door open for him when you walk inside. He’s seconds behind you, instantly splitting off from beside you to go off on his own. The makeshift work area is more simply a room with a few chairs, some laptops, and a few bedrolls. You never thought you’d be missing the lodging in Las Almas, but this place made you do just that.

“You sure we can’t add some wallpaper, Cap?” Soap asks Price, who is less than impressed at the joke. You stifled a smirk and proceeded to your “bed”, hoping to finally catch up on the sleep you’d lost the past few weeks. Your body was exhausted by this point.

You were dragged out of your sleep by a boot nudging your rubs, making your lids snap open. You scowled at Soap, who seemed amused with himself.

“We’re going for drinks. Might do you some good to have fun once and a while.” His words are followed by a sneer.

There’s no point in going back to sleep now, you’re wide awake. At least this time there won’t be any suppressed feelings with Ghost—he’s made his feelings, or lack of them very clear—so why not?

You put on a pair of casual boots, pushing yourself to your feet. “Are you only asking me because Ghost didn’t want to come with you?” His reaction to that question answered it for you, making you roll your eyes sarcastically. That’s exactly why he asked you. At least you didn’t have to feel Ghost’s passionless eyes watching your every move for once.

You went over to the mirror in the corner, seeing the bruising on your face had reduced down to small bits of discoloration, no longer a deep shade of rusty violet.

You then slipped on some of the only civilian clothes you packed — a pair of black skinny jeans and a plain shirt paired with a khaki parka to shield you from the rain.

“You look fine.” Soap says, growing impatient at you nitpicking yourself. “Don’t worry about the scars, men find it sexy.” He guides you to the door as if he’s practically shoving you out the door to let loose. You know he’s just gassing you up so you don’t spend the entire evening a sourpuss.

—

You and Soap meet the rest of the team, except for Ghost—who’s out there doing God knows what. For the first time, you’re actually enjoying yourself with them, all in spite of the stressful work that brought you to the city.

You’re sat at the end of the table you were all sharing, merely listening to their conversations, which are complete nonsense by now.

Soap gets up from the seat next to you, leaving it open. “I’ll go get us another round.” You keep your eyes on the drink you’re holding, savoring the bitterness of it when you sip from it. You’d rather relax and laugh at them, instead of with them.

“Where’d you get the scars? They’re badass.” A random bellowed over the crowd, emerging from it. “You some kind of secret agent or something?” He slurs his words and looks as if he can barely keep himself upright.

Your team was still occupied in their drunk conversation, which would probably save you the embarrassment of being flirted with in front of them.

“She’d tell you, but then she’d have to kill you.” The man's eyes widened a bit in fear, and he stumbled away, disappearing into the crowd of patrons again.

You turned around, seeing Ghost standing behind you with a puffed chest. The others didn’t pay much mind to what happened if they even noticed at all. The music playing in the bar stifled almost everything, and you were at the end of the table. He follows the man with his eyes, making sure he was fully gone before he responded. 

He’s dressed the most casually you’ve seen him—a tight black tee with an Army green pair of cargo pants, and in place of the balaclava is a black face mask.

You tightened your brow and set your drink on the table. “Thought you weren’t coming.” You stayed detached with your tone, acting as if you didn’t care whether he was there or not.

“Changed my mind…” His words had a hidden undertone to them, as if he wanted to say more, but didn’t.

You almost retort, but it’s pointless. Once he’s made up his mind, there’s little chance of going back on it. You expect him to sit in the empty seat beside you, but he stays standing, looking like he wants out of the busy bar as soon as possible.

You look down at the time on your phone and leave enough cash to pay your tab. You then stand up from the stool and walk out of the bar, seeing the rental Simon had parked at the entrance.

“Mind giving me a lift?” He was kind enough to inhibit a flirty conversation, so the least he can do is drive you home. He remains silent and climbs inside, waiting for you to get in as well.

As he pulls out of the space, you can’t take it anymore. “I have to ask… How long were you watching us? You timed that cockblock surprisingly well.”

He almost steers off the road at the sudden vulgarity, but there was no sense in beating around the bush. You two have seen too much of each other for that. He turns his head to look at you, then returns his attention to the slick road ahead.

If he were to be honest, he was watching, just not the group. He was watching you.

“Way to keep it professional, Sergeant.” You can tell he’s trying to hide a smile, but the crinkle around his eyes tells you otherwise. “I wasn’t watching… I was—”

“—Watching, spying, the same thing, L.T.” You cut him off, resting your head against the window. “Besides, I thought you over anyone would’ve been in there having a drink.”

“Too bloody loud in there, not my scene.” He replied, reaching the street the hideout was on.

You sneer at him, “Oh, right, I forgot—you only drink alone without any lights on.” You recall the night you and him did just that when you were still new to the team.

He looks over at you, giving an offended glare through the mask, even though deep down he knew you were only playing with him.

That was the first night you looked at him that way. If you had known how things would turn out, you would’ve pushed the desires away the second they flooded you, which was easier said than done. 

You weren’t the master of suppressing feelings like he was; that stung a little to think about.

He parks beside the curb, shutting off the engine. You can tell he’s deep in thought again, almost near dissociation. He couldn’t for the life of him figure out why he wanted anything to do with you, and vice versa. After everything? The confusion he put you through?

“I should probably get to bed.” You reach for your bag, which is at your feet. Your hand is hovering over the handle, ready to push it open.

“That bloke in the bar,” he freezes you in your tracks, “why’d you give him the time of day?”

You took your hand off the table and looked at him with a baffled expression.

“Because there wouldn’t be baggage attached.” You reply facetiously, your mouth still slightly agape in shock. “Why are you so curious?”

“You need better judgment. He was pathetic.”

“You sure you didn’t have anything to drink, Sir?” You asked teasingly. You were wondering where this sudden vigilance came from since he showed up behind you at the bar.

“Painfully sober, Sergeant…”

Your faces were only inches apart now, both staring at one another over the center console. It was the same look he gave you before he kissed you weeks ago—a look of appetite. This time, you initiated the ravenous kiss before he had time to rethink it. You pulled down his mask and pushed your lips toward his.

His hands were gripping your shoulders, and you were climbing into the driver’s seat without a hitch. You break away for air, resting your forehead against his as you look into his eyes for any sign of hesitation. There is none, but you can tell he’s holding himself back.

“I’m sorry.” He whispered into your mouth as if that was going to stop you now.

You trace your thumb along his Adam’s apple, giving it a little pressure. “There’s no rule saying we have to like each other.” His eyes flash a deeper look of arousal at your words as if that’s what he was waiting to hear.

He keeps one hand on your waist, and the other pulls your shirt and jacket off, allowing him to run his tongue down your cleavage. He nibbles on the skin of your breast while you let out a gasp. Last time, he barely did anything to serve you, so it was a new palette of sensations to experience.

He bites down on the cup of your bra, then lets it go, letting it harshly snap against your breast. Your breathing hitches, feeling the sting of it afterward.

He forces his fingers down your waistband, running his fingers over your clothed clit. You shakily gasped, feeling his cock begin to harden through his pants. Not long after, you slipped them off, careful not to elbow the horn behind you. Now you’re in your panties, straddling his clothed length.

You’re stomach to stomach with him. He lifts you up briefly to slide his pants down to his mid-thighs, now exposing his cock to you. You’re more focused on seeing his face, instead of just his eyes—or like last time, only his mouth.

This time it’s his whole face right there in front of you, a sight you never thought you’d have the privilege of seeing. His chiseled jaw, small scars riddling his face; and most of all the chestnut-brown eyes eye-fucking you.

You begin to tremor your hips against him, feeling your wetness soak through the fabric so much you could see it seeping on his manhood already.

He grunts and shoves you off of it, instead pulling the tongue of your panties to the side, inserting his middle and ring finger inside your moistened walls, curling them into an arch, which only heightened the feeling of pleasure.

He slowly inserted his lengthy fingers into you over and over again, making you grind against them for more. You could finish from his skilled hands alone. He flicked his from his own fingers, up to your face, noticing your eagerness for more of him. He took that as his sign to continue.

When he removes his digits, you guide yourself onto him, sinking slowly to make sure you’re adjusted to his size first.

“Fuck, you feel good around me…” He trembles, his eyes rolling back against the headrest of the seat.

It took a few moments, but eventually, the feeling of him inside of you made you whimper, getting quicker as you panted into his mouth. You leaned into the crook of his neck as he gripped onto your hips, guiding your movements when you grew too sensitive to keep consistent. You clenched around him tightly in response, causing him to shutter in anticipation for more.

“You can take more than that, Love.” He whispered into your ear, gripping your hips tighter before forcing them all the way down on his length with one rough shove. A sharp cry escaped your lips at the sudden change in the amount of length you were taking.

He seemed more than amused at your reaction, continuing to harshly put you down on him, and all you could do was sit there. He secretly loved the way you let him manhandle you, making you take him however he pleased.

Your hand pressed against the frosted window, the warmth of your hand causing a visible print to show on the outside.

Your thighs burned as the motion worked their muscles, sure to make you sore in the morning. In the moment, you didn’t feel the fatigue, only the feeling of his tip deep inside of you, brushing against your cervix. His size bulged through your stomach if you looked closely at it.

You expected him to get sloppy as he was nearing his climax, but he kept his stamina the entire time, using every bit of his strength to keep guiding your body. Hushed, low grunts escaped his lips, most muffled by his mouth against your neck as he rode out his high.

He placed the heel of his hand against your bud, lightly pressing down, so with each thrust you got some friction on it. When your moans got more out of control, he continued thrusting upwards into you, covering your mouth with the other hand to ensure no one nearby could hear.

With a few slamming thrusts that became more spaced out, he released inside of you, coating your entrance as he pulled himself out. You’re slumped against him as you catch your breath, finally relaxing your exhausted muscles.

He traces his fingers over your shoulder blades, then down the curve of your spine, as if to soothe the weakness he knows you’re experiencing.

He kissed your neck tenderly as you peeled yourself off his lap, back into the passenger side. You tongued your bottom lip, still running off the euphoric high you just experienced. He reached down and grabbed your bottoms, allowing you to get redressed.

It was ironic. Even after him being deep inside of you, practically exploring every inch of you, you still couldn’t say a word to him. Nor could he, still feeling like he was using you in some way—like he was repeating old mistakes.

You opened the car door, clenching your wallet in your fist. You catch a glimpse of your reflection in the windshield; your cheeks are flushed, hair a mess, lips still puffy from his bites.

He remains in the car, watching you as you return to the inside of the safehouse.

When you arrive inside, a sense of relief washes over you, seeing that none of the boys are back yet. Thank God for you—there would be few ways to explain your appearance away.

Surely, them seeing you leave the bar so abruptly was going to be suspicious enough, you didn’t need more.

You take a lengthy shower, using the steam to soothe the tension you’re carrying. When you exit the bathroom, everyone is back from the bar. Price is working somewhere in the shadows, Gaz is typing away on his laptop.

You overhear Soap’s prying through the paper thin walls.

“Something you’re not telling me, Ghost?”

“Like what, Johnny?”

“Don’t act coy, L.T. The handprint… you took someone on a joyride.”

Your cheeks heat up in humiliation, praying that Ghost will explain it away somehow. If a loudmouth like Soap finds out, you’ll never hear the end of it. Not to mention Price. Oh God, Price…

“You’d get the chance if you focused on yourself, Johnny. I ain’t telling you the details.”

You give a hefty sigh of relief, moving away from your eavesdropping position when the two men emerge from the kitchen. You pretend to be flipping through the pages of the book you bought, laying on your back on the bedroll. In reality, you’re using the book as a prop to hide your facial expression.

“Goodnight.” Soap says as he slips inside of his bedroll, which of course has to be parallel to yours—and he’s senselessly unaware of the stages of grief his gossiping just put you through. You mutter a goodnight in return, gazing at the cracks in the ceiling above you.

—

“Did you hear what I said, Private?” Price’s stern voice snaps you out of your blank stare.

“Right,” You start, examining the eyes on you from each member of your team. “We’re going to find Hassan somewhere downtown, and redirect the missiles.” You repeat what he briefed, only getting a squint in response.

You were right, technically, so there’s no proof you weren’t listening. In reality, you’re combing over everything that happened yesterday.

Fucking each other was better than being at one another’s throats—but you were somehow stuck in the purgatory between the two. You’ll just keep doing what you’ve been forcing yourself to do for months—shut everything off, and get the damn job done.

Why was this so hard to keep up? Maybe he was right, and you really weren’t meant to be with someone like him, otherwise you’re plagued by a debate of being honest or changing the way you feel completely. 

You risk losing any semblance of trust or losing yourself.

—

“Laswell will be completing our overwatch. Hassan is surrounded by loyal, heavily-trained AQ reinforcements. I want all of you to stick together, and keep civilian casualties to a minimum. Everyone got it?”

Everyone is laser focused as your vans speed through the streets of Chicago, swerving through rush hour traffic as you race for the downtown. You grip your weapon tightly, keeping your eyes peeled for anyone who seems out of place. You need to find the missile control before Hassan is tipped off on your team’s presence and decides to detonate.

The brakes jerk everyone in the seats as fast as their feet are at hitting the pavement. You’ve reached one of the target buildings—a shell company owned by the Las Almas Cartel.

“You have authority to execute any hostiles. Find that missile control and shut it down.” Price booms through the comms. You do just that, following in formation as you sweep the building.

These AQ soldiers weren’t just following orders like the Shadows—no, they were here to cause chaos among innocents—you didn’t have any doubt as you dropped any you faced.

“Finish evac on the civilians, Garrick. We’re heading toward the Control Room.” You follow behind Soap and Ghost, finally reaching your destination. Ghost hovers in front of the control panel, Laswell in his ear instructing him on how to disarm the missile.

You’re on your toes as you guard the room, looking outside at the city bustling in the distance, no clue what kind of danger they’re in.

“Copy. Entering disarm code now, Laswell.” With a few beeps, he succeeds in disarming it. You resume your position behind them as you retreat back down the levels.

Now, you needed to find Hassan. He’s still out there, still just as dangerous without the missile as he was with it.

When you reach the outside, you hear distant gunshots from a few blocks away, making your squad scramble back inside the vehicle. As you race even faster than before, you hear the emerging screams of civillians.

You don’t remember getting out of the car, just that you’re now in cover behind a stone fountain, hearing gunfire ricochet around you. You peek out and open fire at the targets—each one you drop is a breadcrumb to Hassan.

“Parkway is clear. Moving on to the shopping plaza on Main Street. Multiple civilian casualties along the way, Sir.” You speak into your radio, tiptoeing along the streets as your forced to listen to the misery around you.

“Alleyways are clear.” Gaz emerges from them, meeting in the middle with Ghost, Soap, and you.

You eventually reach the middle of the Plaza, where Hassan is hidden somewhere. By now, he’ll be more reckless, and with even less to live for. You felt the anger bubble in your stomach when you saw innocents injured, or crying out as they held their dead loved ones. It made you sick to your stomach, no matter how many times you have seen it.

“I would rather die than surrender!” Hassan’s voice is heard from somewhere above, making your team stop in their tracks. You spot him, standing above on one of the apartment complexes, holding a grenade in his fist.

You aim your sights at him. “Visual on target, Captain. He’s on top of the apartment complex by the market.”

He responds to your call quickly and firmly. “Do not negotiate. Execute the target before more people are blown to bits.”

“You don’t get to surrender, Hassan. Look around you. Look at the innocents you’ve killed.” Soap thunders up at him, his lips pressed into a tight line of disgust.

“My message will always carry. My men will always fight, even after I’m gone.” He reaches for the pin of the grenade and loops his finger through it. Your scope doesn’t leave his head, even at the prospect of being blown apart.

You don’t think. You don’t breathe. You shoot—instantly watching as he tumbles over the railing of the balcony, causing a gruesome scene that painted the street below.

You should be relieved that no one else got hurt, but you’re not. The feeling of numbness is quick to stifle any appreciation you’re receiving. You wince at the sight of his corpse, forcing yourself to advert your eyes.

“Good shots.” Soap pats your shoulder, but you have no reaction to the praise. You didn’t deserve any of it. It felt wrong. All you could picture were the innocents that lost their lives today, the ones who are going home without a loved one tonight, those who will have no visitors in the hospital.

“Target is down, Sir.” You affirm into the radio, staring vacuously at the people you couldn’t save in time.

TAGLIST: @neoarchipelago @ghostlythots @gothgirl6-6-6 @cloudyyjanee @ladyelissarose @almightywdm @glitterypirateduck @brokenghostgirl1

[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!

[mcgnagallsarmy]

Top 8 Spuffy fics I’ve read (May 2023)

Damned If You Do by the_moonmoth [PG-13]

“Geez, Spike, you know everything about everyone but goblins are a mystery to you?”

Fantasie Segrete by Holly [NC-17]

The Slayer’s friends treat a very reluctant Buffy to a Valentine’s Day surprise in hopes of uplifting her spirits.

Haunted by the Ghost of You by sunshine-of-my-lifetime [PG-13]

In which Buffy and Spike are haunted by the past--although, for once on the Hellmouth, this isn't literal.

Hello from the Other Side by Soulburnt [R]

Wolfram and Hart replace the telephones of all employees. Including Angel, who is too busy mocking Spike to realize the new phone can be voice activated. “You think I’m going to pick up the phone,” which he did, something inside him delighting in how the younger vampire’s eyes followed the movement, hawklike and wistful, “and just,” he shrugged, holding the receiver a few inches above the cradle, “call Buffy. For you?” The new telephone dutifully calls the only Buffy in his contacts. A few short seconds later, the phone in the Slayer's office starts to ring. And Angel thought his unlife was rough before....

It just gets worse by coalitiongirl [PG]

It's the summer after Season Four, and Buffy's ready for some peace and quiet when Angel arrives out of nowhere and she's trapped between two rival lovers. To make matters worse, Spike's lonely and looking for a new playmate- and that alternative is suddenly sounding kind of appealing.

Letter to a Sixteen-Year-Old-Girl by the_moonmoth [PG]

Instead of dying in the hellmouth, Spike finds himself thrown unceremoniously back into the past.

Pictures of You by kats_meow [NC-17]

As the Slayer, Buffy Summers has helped a lot of people in her twenty years. But there's one person she's never gotten to help:  Buffy Summers. When she leapt into the portal that Glory forced open, any chance to help any Buffy anywhere went with her. Or did it? Now the lead ambassador to the Powers that Be is playing "Let's Make a Deal" with her afterlife and the leaps have only just begun. Where will she leap to next - and will it be to heaven? Or will the next leap be her leap back home? (With apologies to one of my favorite shows next to Buffy and Angel, "Quantum Leap.")

Thanks for the Memories by Soulburnt [R]

Buffy beats up Angel after learning that he’s lied to her for years. Angel and Buffy had an Eternal Love. The Slayer never really examines that great truth, never really has the time. But after Sunnydale collapsed, taking her staunchest ally with it, Buffy finally has time to think, to deal, to accept. And when a memory spell brings back a twenty-four hour period that her perfect Angel stole from her, she bravely faces up to the truth about her Eternal Love. Six months after the Hellmouth closed, a furious Buffy storms into Wolfram and Hart to get back some of her own, never knowing how literal that can be.

[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.

[railingsofsorrow]

Memories

[peter parker x reader]

summary: you find an old photo album. and some other things.

pairing: p.parker x fem!reader; h.osborn x fem!reader 

w.c: 3.7K

warnings/content: Angst™; description of headaches/migraines; mention of memory loss; a lot of crying & sadness & anger :) 

A/N: heavy chapter this one 🤭. good reading, i recommend tissues. ps: the title of this fic is finally making sense. next week i'll post the last one!

navi 

masterpost 

series masterlist 

[1] [1.2] [2] [3] [4]

❝ [...] autumn leaves falling down like pieces into place

and I can picture it

after all these days

and I know it's long gone,

and that magic is not here no more and I might be okay, but I'm not fine at all.❞

Footsteps approaching made you blink away to get out of your daydreaming again.  

“Found it,” Peter says, pulling a chair to sit beside you. He then sees you pressing your thumbs on your forehead, a crease between your eyebrows. His eyes soften slightly. “Headache?”  

You nod slowly, refraining from moving your head too much.  

Every time you had one of those... dreams, a migraine followed right after. It seemed to be getting worst day in and day out, you didn't know how to stop it. Although now, you were able to see small differences and you could almost grasp the voice. The boy's face still blurred, but his voice was starting to come alive in your head — like a word on the tip of the tongue that you can't recall for some reason.  

He's real. 

“Sorry, where were we again?” You straightened your back to promptly begin the assignment.  

Peter Parker and you were assigned to do a project together, about a week ago. You are the kind of person that likes to starts things and end them as soon as you can, leaving nothing uncompleted or done half-way. But Peter had a lot of things to commit to this week. And every other week, apparently, because he always leaves classes abruptly. You keep saying it's none of your business. Because it is none of your business. You barely know him and you two aren't exactly friends — university colleagues, maybe — but seeing him arrive occasionally with a busted lip or a purple eye makes you want to go up to him and ask if everything’s okay. If he needs someone to talk. Just talk. Because that can help a lot.  

There was another thing as well. His name. Of course there are millions of Peters in the world, the person in your dream with the same name is just a merely coincidence. An unfortunate one at that; you can't help yourself but stare at the warm brown eyes of the boy at your side and find something...  

No.  

Nothing. There's nothing familiar in a completely stranger because of a stupid dream. 

You're seeing him everywhere.  

“You're not wearing your scarf today.”  

You look up from your scribbling, casting him a confused glance. Peter met your eyes but quickly forced his attention back to his own notes. He was always like this, could never meet your eyes for longer. You wondered if you made him uncomfortable.  

“Your scarf. The red one,” he elaborated, clearing his throat. “I never see you without it.”  

“Oh.”  

Touching your neck subconsciously, you realized you were in fact, without it today. Peter's right, you never go anywhere without that scarf. You're attached to it. One of those things you can't explain, the feelings just has always been there. You couldn't remember who gave it to you, either. You just know it was a gift from a birthday of yours. Not that long ago, maybe. You couldn't be certain.  

You find that your memory has been giving you trouble.  

You made a mental note to search through those old photo albums your mother insisted you kept with you as you moved out. Nearly all of your life was in there. Maybe there's a hint from where you got your favourite scarf.  

“Yeah, I... I forgot to put it on.” You said, giving him a soft smile.  

That had been a lie. You never forget to put it on, it was practically another limb to you, but these days... something felt different about it. It was like you were holding onto something. You didn't even know what it was, but there was this longing, this pain, eating away at your chest, chewing every part of you.  

It wasn't just the scarf. Of course not. You knew you were projecting on it. The universe knew you were trying to make sense of anything your subconscious was telling you.  

“Are you heading out, already?” You ask upon seeing him organizing his stuff. Peter regards you with a quick look before vigorously stuffing something red inside his backpack that had slipped for a second.  

“Uh, yes. I am, have to— you know. Stuff.”  

You hesitate as he's about to rush out of the library, but you can't help yourself. “Peter,« You call out, attracting unwanted attention. But you don't care because he looks back at you. You ignore the nasty looks caused by your disturbance and steps closer to him, lowering your voice carefully before speaking. “Are you okay?” You question, placing a hand on his arm. 

Peter opens and closes his mouth many times. “Why?” He croaks out a softly.

“Your left eye. You got injured, right?” You winde slightly at the invasive insinuation. Fuck it. “I've seen you bruised before. I just wanted to know if— if you were okay.” You carried on despite the uncertainty.

You expected Peter to explicitly judge you and tell you off for meddling into his life but he didn't do that. What you didn't expect him to do was looking at you the way he was looking. Gaze soft, a smile at the corner of his lips as if he had heard this phrase before and the warm touch of his hand on yours. You only realized you were still touching his arm when you retracted it, a burning sensation within your fingers. Peter's features twitched with guilt.  

“I'm fine. I-I'm sorry.” 

“Why are you...” Your voice died down when he left abruptly. “Apologizing.” You stayed frozen in the middle of the library for a while before realizing your stupidity, then you walked back, grabbed your stuff and left. The tingling sensation on your hand still there, but your headache was gone.  

Photo albums were the reason you turned your room upside down. And where the hell were them anyway? You swore you brought them with you in one of your moving boxes, but the enigma was where you were keeping them.  

“Why are you tearing our room apart.” You looked up from your mess on the floor to your roommate leaning against the door frame with folded arms. Grimacing, you greeted her.  

“Hey, Stella. I'm looking for something, sorry I'll clean everything up after I'm done.”  

She crouched down beside you, pushing away some of your things to sit. “What are you looking for?”

You sigh, “A photo album. More than one, actually. But if I find just one, I'd be happy.” You said, frustrated, throwing a few of your clothes at your bed. You had teared up your whole wardrobe. Nothing there.  

She hums, grabbing a red sleeveless blouse of yours from the bundle of mess you had thrown at your bed. “If I find it, will you let me wear this to my date tonight?”

“You have a date?” Your face morphed in confusion. Stella had spilled her love life to you the first week you moved in and her main rule that she took very seriously — her words — was I don't do dates. They're so boring. And then she proceeded to tell you all about her favourite kinks. No, you hadn't asked. But you were weirded out that night and you laughed a lot.  

She bopped your nose as she got up, “I do.”

“I thought you didn't do dates?” 

She pointed at something besides your desk, “Try there. It's that box you brought that you asked me to never touch. Guess you haven't touched yet.” You let out a gasp and hauled your sitting frame towards the box. Memory box. That's what you called it. How couldn't you remember that? It was the only place in which your old stuff could be, you had reserved a little spot just for that. “Oh, and things can change, babe! I fell in love at first sight, how do you expect me to say no when she invites me to dinner? It's corny and it's cliché and I hate the idea but it's her so I don't hate it that much.” Stella yells out from the bathroom, sharing more details of her newest crush.  

There it was. You think to yourself, a warm feeling in your chest to have found the old thing.

The dingy and washed-out green cover called out to you more than the colorful bracelets or the old letters. The pages were stained, too. But what makes your heart stops is the little boy present in most of your childhood pictures, someone who wasn't there before because instead of him laid an empty space. That cheeky grin, those dimples and that face full of baby fat. You were beaming by his side, his arm around your shoulders and your hands wrapped around his waist, your cheeks were scrunched together from how tight you were holding onto each other. Best friends — is what's written down behind the polaroid, in a messy childish handwriting. Yours, you recognized. The date was blurred but you didn't need it. The memory was as clear as if you were touching it with your fingers. How could you have looked at those pictures before and not remember every piece of him? 

“You can't do it like that,” Peter scolded you, pouting when you tried to stand upside down again. “You'll get hurt.”The eleven year old boy said in annoyance when you tried it again and fell on the grass. Almost scraping yourself.  

You giggled, wriggling your feet. “Why don't you do it? Scared, Pete? Such a baby.” 

Peter rolled his eyes, “I do it waaay better than you and I don't break an arm because of it." 

“That was one time!”

The next page had your parents, too. And his. The four of you were smiling at the camera as a puzzle laid at the center, nearly completed. Your mind pulled you somewhere else; a little further into the timeline of when that picture had been taken.

“Peter,” You knocked again after having no answer. “Peter, it's me.” May watched you with a sad look in her eyes, but you could see the hope dangling from her. ‘You're the only one that can get him out of this room on days like this’ — She'd tell you as soon as you walked into the apartment. That day had been the seventh anniversary of Richard and Mary Parker's death, it made sense that your best friend wanted to isolate himself from the world, but you noticed the light dimming from his eyes for days before. “I brought chocolate and Back To the Future.” No answer. You exhale and share a guilty look with May. “I can come back later, if you—” 

The sound of the door being unlocked made your breathing stop. Although the handle didn't budge, you took that as an invite and entered the room quietly. Everything was reflecting his feelings and it was exactly what you expected to see as you surveyed the area in search for his light brown curls. Ignoring the mess of sweaters and t-shirts and smelly socks, you followed in direction of the mound of blankets, peaking below as you perched on the edge of the bed. “Hi, Pete,” You mumbled a softly as you spotted the puffy-eyed and red nosed boy.  

“You brought chocolate?” He let out in a hoarse voice, stealing a look at your hands. You smiled. 

You frowned when the images started to get stained with droplets of water. Tears. You were crying.  

The next page had four pictures. Two taken by you and two taken by him. You remembered when they happened. It wasn't that far long ago. Which made it hurt even more.  

“Did you just take a picture of me, Parker?” You gave him a playful glare.  

May was traveling with some friends in that weekend and that left their apartment just for the two of you. Cuddles and baking and conversations about the future and teenage doubts. You were about to enter your last high school year. A lot would change, insecurities just gripped at your skin. You couldn't control the future, not matter how much you enjoyed the present. And you'd miss this. You'd miss being around Peter without being concerned about bigger adult problems.

But you didn't have to let that go, right? Not for now. You hoped, not for a far future.  

“I haven't even brushed my hair yet,” you snickered, hiding your sleepy face behind your hand. Peter nudged your hand away, capturing another one. You objected loudly, standing up from your comfortable position on the couch to sneak the Polaroid camera out of his reach. Peter chuckled as you put the lense close to his face and said “Smile.” you clicked, giving him a look as you waited for the photo to clear up. “See? How'd you like that?” 

“You're beautiful either way, baby. I'm not.” He pointed out as you surveyed both pictures. Your eyes immediately softening at the two of you. “See?” he grabbed yours, lifting for you to see it as if he was proving a point. “Beautiful. Showstopper. Perfect.” 

The blush coating your cheeks were the indication he needed to carry on with compliments. Until you protested enough for him to stop.  

“I love you.” Peter mumbled in the silence you had created in his apartment. Your back was pressed against his chest as a movie played on the television, one you barely paid attention to anymore because your eyes were almost dropping completely. “I love you more than anything in my life. I'm sorry that I can't keep you safe like I intended to.” He whispered the last part, not meaning for you to hear it, but you did. Shifting your body to meet his eyes, you saw his guilt upon thinking he had woken you up. 

“You don't need to keep me safe, Peter,” You promises, touching his cheek softly. His freckles had faded a bit but by bring this close you were still able to see some. “You just have to come back to me every day.”  

He frowned, “You're in constant danger because of me.” 

“Not because of you. People don't know who Spiderman is,” You counterattack with mischief in your eyes. “That means I can enjoy both...” You peck his lips and feels him trying to supress a grin “... by myself. I love you, too. And you'll never lose me, okay?" 

His hair darkened throughout the years, admitting a light shade of brown instead of blonde. The dimples and curls were still the same, that hadn't changed.  

That hadn't changed.  

In another polaroid, MJ's awkward smile at your side and Ned's excited persona at Peter's side told you this was taken two years ago. All of you were at the airport, just before boarding the plane for a two-week summer field trip to Europe organized by Midtown.  

It had been five years after the blip.  

“This is a stupid plan.” You told Peter. 

He let out a long sigh, “I know, you've said that five times already.” 

“And I'm going to say it one more time. We just found out that Quentin cannot be trusted, that he's dangerous. And you think going off on him on your own is going to be a good idea?” 

“I'm not on my own.” Peter gritted. He was frustrated. So much had happened and the only thing he needed was for you to be by his side. But you weren't.  

“Right,” you scoffed. “Nick Fury is on the phone. Who else. Captain fucking America, Peter?” 

“Stop.” He said with an edge to his tone. MJ and Ned had left the room as soon as they felt the tension, they didn't feel like staying to see the bomb drop between the two of you.  

“Well, someone has to tell the truth in your face!” 

“What truth?!” He yelled, trying to match your tone. That was a new reaction. From both of you. You never screamed at each other, any disagreements were dealt with calm conversations. Your relationship didn't have much room to grow past friendship before Thanos took him away from you. “I'm trying to fix what I messed up. I'm trying to stop Beck and how do you suggest I do that other than going after him?”  

“Stop trying to be the hero!” Your face was red, throat burning in rage. But there was something else, too. You were terrified. “Stop trying to prove something to someone that isn't here anymore, Peter. You're putting yourself in danger—” 

Peter ran a hand through his face, “Don't.” His stern voice cut you off and the cold gaze he sent your way had you thinking twice about what you had said. “Do not bring Tony into this. This is not what this is about.”  

Your whole demeanor softened and your anger dissipated like a melting snow. “I'm sorry, I didn't mean to—”  

“What changed?” He shook his head, staring at you as if he could see your bare soul. His eyes had dark bags from sleepless nights and you wished more than anything that he just rested for a minute. “You're being so difficult and I don't know what to do anymore.”  

Your heart clenched — You're being so difficult. 

You knew you weren't helping him. However, you grieved Peter Parker for five years. You laid in your bed, day and night, crying to sleep until your tears dried and your body begged for sunlight. Watching him go through the same situations as he did before the blip had your mind going back to that same place. Those empty days. Yes, you were being selfish. But you lost your best friend and your boyfriend at once. You weren't about to lose him twice.  

You didn't know what you would do if you lost Peter again.  

Upon noticing your silence, he turned his attention back to you again. His irritation melting into concern when he saw you crying silently. He arrived at your side as fast as he could, almost stumbling on his feet. “Hey, hey,” he cupped your cheeks, lifting your gaze to his. “Don't cry, I'm sorry,” he mumbled into your hair as you let out heartbreaking sobs. There was so much pain in your cries that Peter didn't know how to comfort you. Ever since he came back, he failed on making you feel better. What was he doing wrong? “I didn't meant to hurt you, baby.” he whispered, voice cracking because he was also trying to keep his tears at bay.  

A lot had changed and the fault didn't belong to any of you. 

“You didn't.” you buried your face into his neck, shaking slightly. “I just— Peter, I can't, I can't lose you again. If you go and don't come back I don't know what I'll do—” 

“I will come back,” he said seriously, tilting his head to meet your eyes, “I promise you I'll come back, okay?” 

“You promised before.”  

Peter exhaled shakily. He had promised you this before. Right before he went up to space, stupidest idea he ever had. He kissed you on the bus and said “I'll come back. We have a movie night later, yeah? Wait for me.”  

You had waited. Five years. And you had every right to not believe his words anymore.  

“I know,” he brushed a strand away from your damp cheek. “But this is not the same from last time. And I-I know I can't ask you to trust me again. It's not fair. It wasn't fair.” his forehead fell onto yours as he shut his eyes at the same time he touched your face afraid that you'd slip away. “But I can promise you that I'll do everything in my power to always come back. Can you trust that?”  

You nod, exhaling slowly now that your sobs had stopped. “Mm. I can do that.” 

You were so wrong in trusting him. So wrong on believing that he'd kept any of his promises. Peter Parker was a fucking liar. The biggest of them.  

And here you were, one more time, suffering because of yet another broken promise.  

You let the photo album fall into the floor as you scrambled around for your phone. Opening your photo gallery, you scrolled hazardously through the library until you found those old pictures that made no sense. Previously you were holding the air, kissing the air or laughing at absolutely nothing. But now. Now he was there. The same face you saw today, exchanging ideas for a university project in the library. Warm brown hair and honey colored eyes.  

That voice in your head during your dreams — which weren't dreams at all, it was your memories attempting to come back. Something that belonged to you in the first place, that should have never been tampered with— and the reason why it seemed so familiar. So close. He had been there all the time.  

The missing piece. Peter Parker.  

The tiny scar at your eyebrow only made sense now. Your fingers grazed over it as the feeling off betrayal resurfaced with the memory from that fateful evening. When you lost two things. Peter and a part of yourself.  

“Peter,” you said, body closing the space between the two of you in desperation. “Peter, I don't want you to go.”  

“I'm not going anywhere,” he told you, hands wrapping around your back and squeezing you a bit. You started to sob.  

You buried your nose in his neck as if you were scared you would never be able to do that again. 

“Please, Peter. I don't want to forget you. There has to be another way, I don't want to be without you.”

The scarf was wrapped tightly around your hand, the photo album clutched on the other. Your pace was fast and certain. But you couldn't be more uncertain of your path. You didn't now where you were going. You just wanted to get out of that room filled with your past. Still, you carried the two things that would make you crawling back to it.  

He inhaled sharply, “You won't.”  There was certainly in his tone. He would make you remember, he had to. “I'll make you remember me. Hey,” he leaned away to cup your cheeks, smiling sadly with the waterfall in your eyes. “I'll make you remember me, okay? I promise.”

Maybe you should burn both. Pretend you never remembered anything at all and just let it go. Since your history hadn't meant anything to him, why should it meant anything to you? Why should you be the only one destroyed? 

You sniffled, clutching his hand that was touching your cheek. “you promise?”

“I promise.” he whispered, kissing your forehead. “I promise you.”

︶︶︶︶༉‧₊˚. 

In your angry stupor, you didn't notice a car driving by as your crossed the avenue. It was only when the incessant beeping reached your ears that you blinked and froze, startled.

It had been too late, your body had already collided with something else.  

a/n: the cliffhanger feels a bit like a telenovela but I promise it makes sense on next chapter. (harry comes back next chapter too!!)

[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”

[darklydeliciousdesires]

Edge of Seventeen - Chapter Two.

A huge thank you to all of those who have interacted with the first chapter of this, I appreciate you SO much!!

Previous chapters - One

Tag list - In the comments

Words - 3,253

Warnings - 18+ content throughout, minors DNI!

Song reference - Feed my Chaos by Lilith Czar - https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uyMeaoD1p-c

‘Am I the victim?  Am I the criminal?  Am I the angel or diabolical?  The bullet or the gun?  What have I become?  Created in the pain of filth and dust 

Sex and energy  Turn your head off  Chasing reality  Feed my chaos  Bathed in holy light  Crown comes with a cost  Fuel me from the fight  Feed my chaos.’ 

Angel couldn’t stop listening to it, the original track by Heavenly Creature, entitled Feed my Chaos. They’d only been formed for three and a half months and already, they’d pooled their money together to record a few tracks, gotten themselves a few little shows, and were determined to make a name out there.  He admired Bella’s tenacity and zeal hugely, putting together all of the lyrics she’d been writing over the years and crafting actual songs, good songs, too, confessing to him that she was a hoarder of notebooks, always scribbling down something, never without paper and a pen to record inspiration whenever it hit her. 

Because of their conflicting schedules, Bella busy with college and his life between outlawing and scrap metal heaving keeping him busy, he hadn’t actually managed to see her again as yet, but they chatted regularly via text in the five days that followed their first meet. In fact, whenever Angel wasn’t busy with club duties, his phone appeared to be welded to his hand. 

‘Hey pretty girl. What you up to?’ 

Hearing her message alert, Bella reached for her nightstand to pick her phone up, squeaking with excitement when she saw it was from Angel.  

‘Just chilling at home, playing guitar, writing stuff. You?’ 

‘Hanging at the clubhouse before I hit the gym. You busy this afternoon?’  

‘Nope, I have a half day from college so I’m just gonna sit here with my guitar and stuff myself silly with bagels and cream cheese. Unless you had a more appealing alternative?’ 

Shit. Was that too forward? Was he merely asking what she was doing out of interest, and not leading anywhere with it? Could she unsend the message before he read it? Two little blue ticks next to the Whatsapp box revealed she couldn't, Bella cringing as she softly thudded her head against the top of her acoustic guitar.  

‘Wanna meet me for a few drinks?’  

Phew!  

‘Yeah, that’d be great. If I get on the train, I can probably be in Santo Padre by the time you’re done with the lifting of the heavy things.’ 

“Lifting of the heavy things,” he chuckled quietly, typing out another message.  

‘Alright. Do you know where West Point Social is? It’s a real cool bar, and they do great food too, if you wanted to stay for dinner?’ 

‘I don’t, but I have Google Maps, I’ll find it! Meet you there at say, 3:30pm?’ 

‘Cool, see you then.’  

Placing her guitar down, Bella rushed off her bed towards the large, heavy oak wardrobe in the corner of her room. Everything was vintage and nothing matched, but that was hers and her mother’s taste all over. “What the hell do I wear?” Flinging the door open, all of a panic, she raided the contents, considering a dress but then quickly vetoing that decision, landing on her skin-tight, light blue jeans and a simple cropped white top. She teamed them with her black stiletto heeled boots, her usual abundance of jewellery too, picking up one of her beloved heavy fringed bags, this one dark red and unloading all of her stuff into it before quickly touching up her makeup.  

The train took forty-five minutes to reach Santo Padre from her home of La Jolla, Bella barely making it after purchasing a ticket, running across the platform as fast as her feet would carry her, sliding in between the doors just as they were shutting with a grateful sigh. She would arrive at 2:57pm, looking on her phone and seeing that the bar was a twenty-minute walk from the station, which was doable.  

Her feet disagreed with her two thirds of the way through the walk, but the sight waiting for her at a table on the decking area outside the bar was more than worth it. Fuck. She’d almost forgotten how attractive he was. He was without his kutte, dressed simply in a white vest, dark grey shirt left open and a pair of dark blue jeans, heavy silver jewellery adorning his neck, fingers and wrists. When he saw her, he actually felt a wave of butterflies flutter through him. God, she was so gorgeous, every set of male eyes outside of the bar watching her as she walked, Angel feeling ten feet tall when she arrived with him, standing up to greet her with a hug and a quick kiss.  

“Damn,” he breathed, sitting down again. “You look smokin’!”  

Bella felt herself blush, her insides screaming with excitement. “Thanks. Looking pretty lush over there yourself, too.”  

“Lush? Is that a British-ism?” 

“Yeah, kind of. More Welsh than anything. I picked it up off one of my favourite TV shows, Gavin and Stacy. I doubt you’ll have heard of it,” she spoke, placing her bag down, giving her long hair a little ruffle.  

He looked completely nonplussed. “Nope, but maybe I’ll watch it with you sometime.” He sat back, shaking his head, barely able to believe his luck. She was so beautiful! It was making him a little crazy, truth be known. “So, what do you want to drink?” 

“A Coke, please.” 

He leaned forward, making a beckoning gesture with his finger. She reciprocated, leaning closer. “What do you really want to drink?” 

She bit her lip, grinning. “Malibu and Coke, please?” 

He winked, getting up. “I’ll be back.” He didn’t have any qualms about buying her alcohol, even if she was three years under the legal age limit. Besides, she easily passed for twenty-one. While he was inside, Bella took out her cigarettes, lighting up and looking out around the space. Southern California was, as one might imagine, completely different to her native Hammersmith. The vibe, the people, everything was in stark contrast, most of all the weather, London mostly dull and grey, save for the stifling summer months. She realised that after six months in San Diego, though, she knew nothing of hot weather prior to her move.  

“What’s that stuff like, then?” Angel spoke, arriving back and placing her drink down, Bella taking a grateful sip. She was parched after her walk. “I can’t say I’ve ever tried it.” He nodded towards her glass, Bella sliding it across the table to him.  

“Here, try a sip.”  

He picked it up, giving it a cautionary sniff. The face he made prompted her tiny snort laugh, sipping it back all the same. “Oh, Jesus in a fucking side car!”  

There it was again, her booming laugh. “Not a fan?” 

“It’s vile! It tastes like air freshener!” 

“And now many Magic Trees have you been chomping down on to be able to use those as your comparison?” She bobbed her tongue between her teeth playfully, Angel leaning forward in his seat, pointing at her. 

“No shaming my snack habits. They’re low carb.”  

She was in soft fits. “Low carb, all card?” 

“Exactly that,” he confirmed with a nod. “So, how was college?” 

“Boring!” she yelled, maybe a little too loudly. “We had to learn about the basis of chord progression, which is stupid since I know it already! I’ve been playing guitar since I was six!” She suddenly realised her statement came off as a little arrogant, continuing. “I mean, I don’t want to sound like a Johnny know-it-all, but I was just frustrated because I could have been using that time for something else, something brand new to me.” 

He reached for her hand, seeing the sudden worry in her face. “I understand, it’s like, you want to make the most of your time. You’re there to build on what you already know, not go over the same things. Maybe though, just see it as a chance to reminds yourself of those things again and keep them fresh?” She’d never looked at it like that before, and had to admit, he was right. She guessed her headstrong youth had a lot to do with it, Angel getting past his now at thirty-six. Already, she knew that would be a point of fascination about him, the fact he was likely a lot wiser than her in some ways.  

As they sat and chatted, Angel was fascinated by her, learning more about her homeland, the UK a place that by his own admission, he knew very little about at all.  

“I miss it there, I do,” she replied in answer to his question. “I mean, San Diego has everything London does, almost, but what I loved so much about London was the extremities of the cultural diversity. We have so many nationalities of people migrating, and they bring their culture of course, from food to music, it was just such an amazing scene. I always said I wanted to travel, though, so these are my first steps in making sure I don’t stay rooted, that I get out there and see the whole world.” 

“And you hope it’ll be your music that’ll make that happen for you?” he asked, taking another nacho from the huge plate they were sharing.  

“It will be, I’m certain of it. I’m not going to stop until I make something of myself, and music is going to be it.” He loved that about her, how confident she was. She had every reason to be. 

“Well, you damned sure got the talent,” he began, taking a swig of his beer when a particularly spicy piece of jalapeno began sizzling the back of his tongue. “Seriously, I can’t get enough of your music. I usually mostly listen to either old school hip hop or metal, but your stuff, I fucking love. Your voice, Jesus Christ, man! You even impressed Bish, and that ain’t easy to do. He’s very set in his ways over what he likes, but he was stunned when you started singing.” 

Her face was curious, wiping sour cream from her fingers with a napkin. “Who’s Bish?” 

“President of the MC, Bishop Losa,” Angel confirmed, Bella’s eyes widening a little.  

“Does he have a daughter called Hadleigh?”  

Angel nodded, pouring the remaining salsa over the nachos. He always ordered extra, because of the inevitable dry under chip situation. “He does! My beloved ass face!” 

Bella almost choked on her drink. “I know her! Well, I kind of know her, we move in the same circle. She’s dating a guy who’s friends with Ian, our drummer. Why’d you call her ass face?”  

“Because Hadleigh Losa is the biggest pranker on earth, she gets it right from her old man, and they prank on each other constantly. One night, she fell asleep at the club, and to get her back for emptying flour into his leaf blower, he drew an ass on her forehead with marker pen. She went fucking insane! Came off with rubbing alcohol, but I swear, I nearly broke a rib from laughing so hard!” 

“He sounds like a fun dad. I remember mine used to be the same. He’d play jokes in my mum all the time, particularly with an airhorn. He used to hide behind doors, under the bed, tables, and one time he even managed to wedge himself in the pantry. She said that was the only thing she didn’t miss after he died, the fact that at any given moment, she was five seconds from pissing her pants in fear at the threat of an airhorn being let off,” she detailed, remembering one time when he’d hid behind the curtains and gotten her, her mum throwing an entire bowl of popcorn in the air. Their old basset hound, Rufus had eaten well that night. “What was your dad like while you grew up?” 

“Stern,” Angel confirmed, thanking the passing waitress when she took their empty bottles and glasses away. “Mom was always the fun one. She was the sweetest woman, I swear. She was like you in so much that she lived and breathed music, so we listened to so much, from traditional Spanish stuff to Janis Joplin and Joan Jett, who she loved.” 

“Oh my god!” Bella cried, holding a hand to her chest. “Those women are two of my biggest idols!”  

“She even got to see Janis, you know. She snuck over the border and hitch hiked all the way up to Hollywood to watch her play at the Hollywood Bowl.”  

Bella’s eyes couldn’t have been more alight. “Bloody hell! Now that’s dedication. She sounds like she was such an incredible person, and you’ve only told me a little about her. I’m so sorry, about what happened to her.”  

Angel nodded, something sharp tingling in his chest. He missed her so much. “Thanks. I know you get it, though, that’s something we have in common, really missing one of our parents. So, tell me about your mom then, or mum, as you call her.” he teased.  

“She’s just terrific, she’s my best friend,” she began, scrunching her nose a little. “And I know that sounds really lame, but she is. She’s so chilled out, a real hippie type, and hugely clever. There literally isn’t a single thing she doesn’t know about plants, and her work is so fascinating, everything she researches in how plants can be used for differing purposes. She specialises in what’s known at phytochemistry.” 

“It sounds really complicated,” Angel confessed, sipping his beer.  

“Oh, it is. Half of what she tells me I’m just sitting there like, ‘what the bloody, buggery fuck, mum?’ over!” He laughed, loving her differing colloquialisms. He heard plenty more of them as they continued to talk, sharing stories from their lives, finding common grounds, detailing their differences, leaning so much about one another that the time flew by.  

It was a first date that went so well that by the time the sun had gone down, Bella had moved around to the other side of the table, sat across his lap, sharing kisses that probably bordered on much too steamy for a public place, but she didn’t care. Neither did he.  

“I hate to put a stop to this,” she sighed, her lips tingling. 

“Then don’t,” Angel interjected, his hand stroking her thigh.  

She laughed softly through her nose, leaning in to kiss him again. He was the best kisser she’d ever experienced, probably because he’d likely kissed hundreds more people than she had, or he was just naturally talented. Either way, she didn’t care. She couldn’t get enough. “I have to, though. My train leaves in forty minutes, and it’ll take me twenty to get back to the station.” 

He looked thoughtful for a moment. “How much later could you stay if I paid for your cab home?” 

Her mouth dropped open immediately. “Angel, that’s at least a sixty-dollar cab ride! I can’t ask you to do that!”  

His hand wandered up and down her back, leaning forward to kiss her cheek a few times. “You ain’t asking, I’m offering. How long?” 

Looking at the time on her phone, she worked it out. She didn’t have a curfew as such, her mum being quite relaxed, but she knew that in order to be fresh for college the next day, she should be home for about midnight. “Two hours?” 

“Done. Your sexy butt is staying exactly where it is,” he confirmed with a nod.  

“More than happy with this decision.” Her confirmation was delivered with the kind of kisses that made his pulse flip madly, Angel not able to remember a time when he’d been so attracted to someone. It wasn’t just that she was gorgeous either, it was her, all of her. She was smart, talented, funny, and so, so gentle and sweet. He was also revelling in the novelty that as a completely smoking hot eighteen-year-old, she could have any guy she wanted, and she’d seen him and thought ‘yep, that one.’ It wasn’t without its charm.  

The two hours passed much too quickly, Bella feeling a little sad pit in her stomach as the cab pulled up, standing in his arms, kissing him goodbye.  

“You might have to take me with you, because I totally don’t wanna let you go,” he confessed, actually poking out his bottom lip and looking utterly adorable, Bella returning such, making him melt completely. Oh, she was too cute!  

“I don’t want to leave you, either!” she exclaimed, quickly calling to the cab driver that she’d be a couple of minutes, the friendly man replying with ‘okay, darling’ before she turned back to the man she was very reluctant to let go of.  

“We could remedy this, you know,” he began. “I could give the driver my address instead, and you come stay at my place, blow off college tomorrow, or I’ll take you back there early in the morning, if you want?”  

“Erm...” she began, knowing the connotations. She shook her head. “I think I know exactly why you’re asking me back to your place, and it isn’t going to happen. Not this soon anyway.”  

He shrugged. “I can keep my hands to myself.” 

“Yeah, but maybe I can’t. I’m not easy, but with you, bloody hell. I could be, and I’m not screwing it all up by having sex with you right away,” she confessed, Angel respecting her decision. Albeit somewhat begrudgingly. He then realised, though, that such a stance made her very, very different to just about any other woman he’d encountered in recent years, all of them ready to jump into bed with him right away. God. It only made him like her more.  

“No worries, baby. You free this weekend? I’d love to see you again,” he asked, his fingers stroking her lower back in a way that made her tingle all over.  

“Not until Sunday, I’m afraid,” she lamented. “I have rehearsal on Friday night, then on Saturday I’m at work in the day, then on the evening we’re playing a little show at a bar not far from where I live, but yeah, Sunday daytime I can be all yours?” Ahh, yes. Sadly, Saturday daytime was out of bounds for her, Angel remembering her briefly detailing her job as a hair washing girl at a salon close to where she lived in La Jolla.  

“Then I’ll call you on Sunday morning to arrange something. Text me when you get home, alright?”  

She leaned in for another kiss, drinking him in, her heart fluttering madly. “Will do. Thanks for a great night.”  

Getting into the cab, she could barely wait for Sunday, grinning like an idiot for the entire duration of the ride home. He was the first guy in a long time who she really, really liked. In fact, she’d never felt like that before at all, she realised, replaying moments from their date in her head all the way home. 

She was smitten.   

As for Angel, he felt much the same, so much so that after discovering the name of the bar Heavenly Creature were playing at that coming Saturday, he planned to pay her a surprise visit.  

Bella almost felt her heart somersault out of her chest when after taking to the stage, she picked him out in the crowd. She realised then that he was just as into her as she was him, and that? That felt wonderful.