#this is what happens when your gaming laptop becomes your coding laptop too

[hummingbird-games]

Wanna know that I’m slowly healing and getting back to ‘myself’??? I mistook the bird app for tumblr and spewed my CC thirst 💩

prepare the others for when I get back to gilded shadows, I have like 3 other bois to finish routes for... 

[host-club-hq]

➼ pairing: kyoya ootori x reader (established relationship)

➼ summary: you've been up late lately watching horror game play-throughs... and sometimes you forget how scary they can be, even if you aren't actually playing the game. (something so tooth-rottingly fluffy and domestic for y'all :))

➼ word count: 2.7k: tiny, itty bitty drabble :)

➼ what to expect: "... what are you doing here, anyway?"

➼ warnings: blood mentions, descriptions of the horror game: poppy playtime, SPOILERS!, horror themes???

➼ this is based off the fact that i've been watching youtubers play poppy playtime wayyyy too much, and i wanted to publish something for you without the risk of forcing myself to write indeed and it not being good quality for you all :)

Pulling your blanket closer to your body, sitting up in the middle of your bed with your laptop placed before you, your eyes are trained intently on the screen before you.

You watch as a (mostly silent) Youtuber walks through the empty, ominous halls of Playtime Co with a blue hand on the left side of the screen and a green hand on the right.

You've made it past the horrifying first chapter of the game, where Huggy Wuggy wants to hug you a little bit too hard. How? You have no idea. That chapter was absolutely terrifying, and you don't know how you're not scarred for life.

You never thought being chased through the vents of a toy factory by a tall, blue, fluffy creature (with rows and rows of teeth) that looks like a stretched-out Cookie Monster would be so terrifying. But, here you are, watching the second chapter the second the first play-through was released.

Now you're dealing with a new foe who goes by the strangely innocent name of Mommy Long-Legs, who wants you to complete three games before she'll give you the code to the train to escape the factory. She's much less terrifying than Huggy Wuggy, but you've heard rumors that her chase scenes are much longer and harder to complete without dying.

The thing about watching play-throughs is that you never know when they're going to make a mistake and become a victim of the creature chasing them. Although, of course, when you're playing the game, on some level, you have a clue about when you're going to die about a split second before it happens because you know you've messed up-, but play-throughs... are far scarier.

But they also give you some sort of peace and comedic relief if they're talking through the game as they go along.

You've made it to just after the third game (after a pug/caterpillar hybrid follows you through a round of red light, green light with the addition of a complex obstacle course), where the player escapes through a window and Mommy Long-Legs is on the move after them. You don't know when she will pop up; you're on the edge of your seat.

Your blanket is wrapped around your head and pulled tight in your fists over your shoulders. The screen of your laptop creates an eerie glow and adds to the terrifying atmosphere of your dark room.

Little do you know, your boyfriend has arrived at your front doorstep and knocked, summoning one of your maids to let him in.

As your ever-reputable partner, Kyoya Ootori, makes his way down the hallway toward your room where your maid directed him, he nears your cracked door with suspicion.

He's about to knock when he hears your little shriek and suspenseful music from whatever you're watching.

"Ugh! I asked you to play fair, and you cheated! I... HATE cheaters!" Followed by what sounds like a hand banging on a wall in anger.

"y/n? What the hell are you wa-"

"AH! I promise I wasn't cheating, Mommy!" You shriek, grabbing your nearest throw pillow and chucking it at the intruder in the doorway.

"Ow! Mommy? What the hell are you doing?" Kyoya flicks the lights on to reveal you wrapped in your little blanket burrito and ready to throw another pillow in his direction.

"Oh... it's just you." You breathe carefully, placing a hand on your heart in relief.

Your video continues to play in the background, "Now... we're going to play one... last... GAME! It's called... hide... and... SEEK! ... 10... 9... 8..."

"What in the world is this?" Kyoya rounds your mattress and leans over the bed, over you, to get a look at what you're watching.

The player continues to run down the stairs frantically and proceeds to complete the remaining puzzles. You can feel more chase scenes about to ensue; you just know it.

"Is this that horror game that I told you to stop watching? Based around that doll?" Kyoya groans, rubbing his sinuses under his glasses.

"Yes... but! It's just so interesting, I couldn't stop watching." You pull him beside you on the bed and offer him some of your blankets to watch along with you.

"Oh, wait! Go turn the lights back off first, please...?" You pucker your lip in a pout and give him the best puppy eyes you can muster.

Kyoya's cheeks flush a light pink, and he quickly rises to turn them off so that you won't be able to detect it, murmuring a "fine" under his breath.

After having kicked off his shoes, he resumes his position with you on your bed under your blanket and proceeds to focus his attention on your beloved horror game.

"I promise it's not as scary as the first chapter."

Kyoya shivers to recall your detailed description of watching someone be chased through a vent by what essential is a hug monster, then recalls the image of the aforementioned 'Huggy Wuggy' that chases the player. Why are you into these things...? He'll never know.

But he must admit, it's quite endearing that you watch horror games only to scare yourself silly and come running to him. He's not complaining.

The both of you watch as the player silently makes their way down an ominous hallway after figuring out a code to open a gate. This video, in particular, is a play-through without commentary or the comforting face of a Youtuber in the corner... so it's much more terrifying.

All of a sudden, chase music sounds through your laptop speakers, and Mommy Long-Legs appears, groaning distortedly as the player quickly turns around and sprints back to the room they came from, figuring out that they needed to grab the bar on the ceiling and hide from the creature as she scuttles along the floor, looking for them.

Kyoya leans forward, appalled, "What is that thing?" He adjusts his glasses.

You pause the video at an opportune moment as Mommy is chasing the player again, her pink, gangly limbs sprawled across the screen as her terrifying smile and blacked-out eyes stare at the player; therefore, the two of you.

"That's Mommy Long-Legs." Kyoya's brows furrow as he scans over her pink face with a mussed-up, plastic-looking ponytail and pink torso and abdomen... strangely resembling a spider but with fewer legs.

"She's... horrifying." Kyoya shivers as you scoot in closer to him.

"I know. I love her." You giggle, pressing the spacebar to your laptop and watching as the chase ensues with suspenseful music and the distant sound of Mommy groaning.

This isn't nearly as tame as the other game you used to watch people play, Kyoya remembers. What was it again...? Five Nights at Freddy's? He's pretty sure that was it. This game is at least 10 times more terrifying, and he's only watched about 30 seconds of gameplay.

You peek at your screen through your blanket as your cheek is pressed firmly into Kyoya's chest for protection, jolting as the player fails to grab the bar to pull them away from Mommy as she springs out of the background and catches them. You shriek, burying your face into Kyoya's school blazer and groaning at yourself.

"Do you want to stop?" Kyoya smoothes a hand over your back and places a gentle kiss atop the crown of your head.

You shake your head, clutching your blanket tighter and returning your attention diligently to the screen.

As the video ensues, the both of you watch as the player pulls an obviously placed lever and the gears in the nearby machine begin to turn. Then, Mommy slides into the room, gaining a wince out of you, and gets her hand stuck in the very same machine. She lets out a blood-curdling scream when she realizes she's being shredded.

"Oh, god." Kyoya grimaces. You nod in agreement.

"What have you done?! He'll make me part of him! You can't do this to me!" Her screaming becomes distorted as more of her body is consumed by the dangerous machine, oddly enough, with blood spill... although she's a toy.

"Wow, I can't watch this." Kyoya groans, burying his face in your hair for a moment, allowing himself to become immersed in your intoxicating scent.

"It's over; she's dead." You tap his arm gently, Mommy's torso lying lifeless on the floor. Kyoya peeks up only to find a mechanical, skeletal hand coming out from under a slightly ajar gate to grab the remainder of Mommy's body and drag it into the darkness.

"Does this only get weirder?" Kyoya glances down at you to see your own mouth open, flabbergasted.

"And the lore continues..." you kick your feet giddily.

"I think I've seen enough; we can stop now." you pause the video and shut the laptop, allowing darkness to flood the room.

You hum as you and Kyoya adjust yourselves against the headboard of your bed, relaxing into each other's arms.

"... what are you doing here, anyway?"

Kyoya chuckles, "Well, I wanted to simply spend time with you, and one of your maids let me in. I guess you were too preoccupied to answer the door yourself." He teases, squeezing your shoulder.

"I'm sorry... I'm just so invested. It's scary, but I love it." you smile sheepishly, resting your head innocently on his chest.

"I can see that. And I will never understand why, but I guess I don't have to." Kyoya simpers down at you fondly.

"Will you stay the night? I don't think I can sleep alone after that."

Kyoya rolls his eyes playfully, "And that's why I advise against it... but I can't say no to you. But I don't have any sleepwear with me... I guess I can send for someone to deliver it..." Kyoya reaches for his phone.

"Okay." you snuggle closer to him as Kyoya shoots a quick text to his servants back home and easily gets an immediate reply; someone is already on their way.

"You know, you should keep some here... and I can keep some at your place?" You suggest quietly. You wait and gauge his reaction.

"Yeah? That's very domestic of you to suggest." Kyoya knows exactly how to tease you.

"You don't have to-"

"No, I wasn't saying no. I actually like the idea." Kyoya reassures just as a maid quietly announces herself in your doorway, presenting Kyoya with a small bag with things he'll need to stay the night with you.

"Wow, they were fast..." You marvel as he separates himself from you, bows politely to your maid, and shuts your door behind her as she leaves.

"They have their ways." Kyoya shrugs innocently, placing the bag on one of your chairs and digging through it.

"Are you going to shower?" you sit up in bed and wait excitedly for his answer.

Kyoya glances over his shoulder, teetering a bottle of shampoo in his hand to indicate his intention, "I was planning to if you don't mind."

"I certainly don't mind at all; I love the way your shampoo smells." You swoon, earning a laugh from Kyoya as he meanders to your bathroom with his products and sleepwear in his arms.

"Well, thank you, I'm flattered. I'm glad you like it because your bathroom will be smelling that way in no time." He teases.

"I showered before I sat down to watch the video, so I'll just join you in bed when you're finished." Kyoya nods at your statement, disappearing behind your bathroom door with a smile. The sound of running water quickly follows.

You leap from your bed to rummage in the storage boxes hidden away in your closet, finding just the item you're looking for-

A nightlight that you keep for occasions just like this. It's very childish in nature, but that's what makes it feel safe. It's a soft, baby pink colored rainbow with magenta stars and a smiley face on the cloud near the rainbow's end. You shove it into the outlet, and it flickers to life.

After about five minutes or so, Kyoya emerges from your bathroom in a cloud of steam as you perched in your bed, hopelessly scrolling social media. He's in the midst of towel-drying his hair when he notices the pink light in the corner of your room that breaks the darkness.

"... what is that?" he nearly snorts in amusement, cocking his head in the direction of your nightlight.

"My nightlight that will keep Huggy Wuggy and Mommy Long-Legs away." you grin sheepishly.

Kyoya sighs, "You're such a child..." He nearly groans, plucking off his glasses and setting them on your bedside table after tossing the towel in your hamper.

"Mmhm, but you love me." You counter convincingly with crossed arms and a pout.

"Mm. That I do." Kyoya kneels on your mattress, pecking your forehead, before crawling next to you in bed, dressed in comfortable sweatpants and an old t-shirt he only keeps around to sleep in.

Kyoya may have not started off as a particularly romantic boyfriend. Still, he quickly learned that your love languages are things like physical touch and words of affirmation, no matter how embarrassed you get each time he performs them. He's more than happy to do so, although he must admit at first it was a bit out of his comfort zone, but he's fallen into a comfortable routine; it's become a habit of his.

"You smell clean." you sigh, tossing your comforter over your body and wrapping your arms tightly around his torso, pressing your nose to his neck with a deep inhale.

"Are you sniffing me?" Kyoya peeks down at you.

You inhale once more dramatically, sighing dreamily, "Yes, I like your scent." you giggle, sniffing as if you were a dog trying to learn his scent.

"God, you're a pain." Kyoya teases, although his actions contradict his words, sliding an arm under your body and wrapping it around your back, holding you close to him.

"Mmhm, tell me more." You've learned how easily you can fall asleep to his deep, tenor-like voice if you try. It can fall into a soft, comforting monotone when he drawls on about his day, and although it was first seen as slightly offensive when you would fall asleep to his voice, Kyoya now knows it's nothing more than a sign that you feel safe with him.

"Yeah? Tell you more about how you make me worry constantly? And how I have to look after you?" Kyoya teases once more, watching as you nod sleepily.

"Oh, yeah, I love it when you talk like that, baby."

He snorts, "Okay, I give up. Want me to tell you about my day?" He suggests, running his long, slender fingers through your hair with caution.

"Yeah..." You yawn.

"Alright, then. Today I woke up to that text message from you at about two in the morning last night about how you were craving Italian food. I don't know why you think I'd be awake at that hour." Kyoya recalls fondly.

"Mmm." You hum absently.

"I got caught up on the week's future homework assignments after school today, though I assume you'll want to see them before I turn them in prematurely. Honestly, I'd rather tutor you than just give you the answers. But, have it your way. Dinner was casual; I just had the chefs whip something up briefly, very light. I did a bit of light reading before coming to visit you. Oh, I forgot, Tamaki called this evening wondering about arrangements for your birthday party next week. I told him I had it completely under control, but he insisted he must have some input. You don't mind if he chooses something small... like, say, an activity, do you?"

Nothing comes from you but soft breathing and the occasional hum in your sleep as you adjust yourself. Kyoya continues on as though you answered.

"I didn't think you would. You're also so conducive to him... I think it's endearing. The both of you are." Kyoya smiles fondly.

Your cheek is pressed to his chest, your mouth slightly ajar, soft puffs of air coming from between your lips. Kyoya exhales shortly in a laugh.

"Alright, I guess you've had enough of me. Sleep well... I love you." His last phrase is quiet.

"... love you, too."

Kyoya nearly rolls his eyes. Of course, you'd be awake only to say that. But that's why he loves you... all of you. And he wouldn't have it any other way.

want to read more? here's my ouran masterlist 🌹

and here's my bts blog💜

want me to write something you want to see? request something💌

have any questions? talk to my characters!🙏🏻

Adieu~ 🌹🌹🌹

[goddesswritings]

“Can I slap her for you?” -  Corpse Husband | Part Two

Title: “Can I slap her for you?” – Part Two

Pairing: Corpse Husband x Reader

Summary: Being stuck living with the queen of YouTube drama and partying during the pandemic has seriously worn down your patience. Meeting Pokimane has changed your life for the better, making Among Us a pivotal part of your life.

Word Count: 5.2k

Unedited for now. I was eager to post. I will edit it later.

Corpse Masterlist

********

<< PART ONE

After you left the apartment, you sat in the parking lot of some random store, trying to decide what to do now. Sighing, you opened your phone and went to Instagram. Corpse was probably wondering if it went okay.

Corpse: She left the stream, thank you!

Corpse: What exactly did you do?

Corpse: She’s sending Sean angry DM’s now.

Corpse: Hey, are you okay?

Y/n: Hey sorry, I had to pack. I’m fine, happy to help get her out of the stream. I switched off the power to her office.

Honestly, you wished you could have stood up against her more often than you did. She was four years younger, so you should have been able to have the say in things. But no, Olivia was a control freak and a spoiled brat too. She would no doubt tell your parents you started a fight with her, and she felt unsafe.

Corpse: Wow, you’re badass. Packing for what?

Y/n: Um, she may have kicked me out of the apartment, and I may have left without a fight because I’m tired of her shit. 🤷‍♀️

Corpse: Do you have a place to stay?

Of course you didn’t and you really should have thought about that before just leaving the way you did.

Y/n: Not really but I will find somewhere.

Well you hoped you could. There weren’t many people who were keen in taking in a friend during a pandemic.

Corpse: Poki’s going to call you.

At that message, your phone started to wring and sure enough, it was Poki.

“Hello?” You asked hesitantly.

“So someone let it slip that your sister kicked you out?” Poki said calmly.

“Is that someone, Corpse?”

“Yes, he said it out of shock but I’m glad he did. Knowing you, you would have kept it a secret from me.” She was right. You hated inconveniencing your friends.

“Damn you, Corpse.” You muttered making her laugh. “Yeah so I ruined Olivia’s stream and she started screaming at me before kicking me out. I didn’t fight it because I am tired of her.”

“Understandable. Well do you need somewhere to stay?”

“Yes but I will find some place.”

“Nope, you’re staying with me. Come over now or I am coming out to drag you back to my place.” Her protectiveness made you smile.

“Sure, I’ll be there in a few.” You hung up.

Y/n: Thank you for looking out for my stubborn ass, Corpse. I would have never told her.

Corpse: Stubborn is one word to describe you. Cute is another.

That comment made your face heat up from the sheer adorableness of it. Corpse seriously just called you cute.

Y/n: Can I say you have a genuinely nice hand. It’s marvelous.

Corpse: Hey, don’t make fun of my hand. It takes all the heat for me. That hand is very anxious every time I post him.

Y/n: Awe I bet. Give him hugs from me. Also tell him I’m a big fan!

The easy flow of conversation between the two of you was nice. You got along extremely well and talking outside of the game was nice, since you could focus on what you really wanted to say to him.

Corpse: He’s flattered!

This was great and took your mind off Olivia and the fact she just kicked you to the curb with nowhere to go. But Poki was there for you. You appreciated her more than she knew.

You pulled up in front of her apartment building, parking the car, you got out and grabbed your stuff. Typing in the code Poki had given you a while ago, you were let into the building. Entering the elevator, you made your way to her apartment.

Barely knocking, the door flew open to reveal Poki. She looked mad but also worried. She pulled you into the apartment and hugged you tightly.

“Can I slap her for you?” She asked calmly.

This made you giggle. “I mean I would like to slap her as well.”

“We should make a plan. Hey, the group is still on, come say hi.” She started to lead you to her office.

“Are they still streaming?” You didn’t want to reveal your face to the world, not like this.

“Oh no. We ended our streams when Olivia started talking about you. She completely wasn’t respecting your privacy and we weren’t about to let her spill it to our viewers.” That was so sweet of them to do.

You had left your bags in the other room while you followed her. An idle conversation was going on when you entered.

“Hey guys, I’m back.” Poki took a seat in front of the computer, she pulled up a second chair. “I have someone special here.”

Sitting down, you saw her nod for you to say something. “Hey, did you miss me?”

They went wild.

“Y/n! Oh we missed you!”

“Don’t leave us again.”

“I’m sorry I invited your sister to stream.”

“Hey Y/n.”

The mix of voices was overwhelming in a good way. Sykkuno, Rae, Sean, and Corpse pretty much spoke over each other which made you laugh.

“One at a time, guys. You can’t overload her.” Leslie told them.

“Sorry Y/n. We just really missed having you here. You’ve become one of our favorite friends to play with.” Sykkuno said sounding as sweet as ever. That man was just the best.

“Yes, I can say we agree.” Rae added.

It was nice to hear they missed you. It really helped to lift your mood as well.

“Did your sister really kick you out?” Toast asked

“Yes she did. But it’s not surprising at this point. She’s probably been gunning to kick me out as soon as she could.” Sad truth

“Well she’s the worst player ever. She can’t keep a secret at all. I really should have never agreed to get her into the group.” Sean said sounding sad.

“Hey Sean, please don’t worry about it. She’s always weaseling her way into things. It’s completely not your fault.” One of the things she loved to do was incessantly DM other youtubers for collabs or for free stuff. She really had no morals.

“Well thank you, Y/n. You’re literally the sweetest.” Sean said earning a bunch of ‘I Agrees’ from everyone else. That really was helping make the night better.

“Who’s up for some more Among Us to relax after that shitshow?” Lud asked making everyone laugh hard. It was agreed the group would do it. Luckily, you had your laptop and joined the call and game and stayed in Poki’s living room to play. Honestly, it was so good for you.

**

At the end if gaming, you said goodbye to the group. Then Poki showed you to the extra room that used to be her roommates before she moved out last month.

“Hey, are you looking for a roommate?” You asked as you put the bags on the bed.

Poki sent you a smile. “I am. Are you interested?”

This was good. “Yes, I mean I still have to find another job since my main is still furloughing me until this pandemic gets better but I have some money saved up.”

“Hey, please don’t sweat it. Besides, I know a friend who’s in need of an editor, I may have mentioned your name and she really wants to talk to you about it. Is that okay?”

“Wow, that’s perfect. Thank you, Poki. You’re such a great friend.” It felt good to have someone there for you.

She pulled you into a hug. “Always. I am so glad I met you. You’re one of my best friends.”

This was an honor. “Don’t make me cry.”

“I can’t promise anything. Anyway, I will leave you to rest. It’s been a long night. Tomorrow I will give you my friends details.”

“Sounds good, night Poki.”

“Goodnight, Y/n.” She waved goodbye and closed the door behind herself.

Smiling, you sat on the bed. It was such a good thing that she was here got you. But also Corpse was the catalyst that got you to actually tell Poki was what happening. He was sweet and it seemed he was looking out for you.

After changing into comfy pj’s, you brushed your teeth before climbing into the freshly made bed. Opening Instagram, you saw that Corpse has messaged you.

Corpse: I don’t like being too forward but hey here we go. Can I please have your number so we can talk more easily?

A smile made its way to your face. For a tough man, he surely had a sweet way of getting to you

Y/n: Yes you can. xxx-xxx-xxxx.

The nerves jumped when you sent that message. Less than a minute later, you received a text from an unknown number.

xxx-xxx-xxxx

Hey Y/n, it’s Corpse. Would you mind if I called you so we could talk for a little?

You liked this idea truthfully. It only helped to show how genuine Corpse was being.

Y/n

Not at all. Please go ahead and call me.

Your phone rang, displaying Corpse’s name.

“Hello?” You answered the phone while pushing away the anxiety.

A soft deep laugh filled your ear. “Hey sweet girl. How are you feeling?”

His words made you want to sigh in the most lovesick way. That never happened these days.

“I’m good. Poki had an extra room I could crash in and well I might just be her new roommate.”

“I love that. She’s so much better than your sister I assume.”

“She is. Here I won’t have to deal with the incessant pandemic partying Olivia likes to do.” That selfish bitch.

“Shit, is she stupid? She does know she’s risking a lot of lives, right?” You loved that Corpse had the logic you craved.

“So she is stupid, and her response was always that it’s not her problem and that the vulnerable people should stay home.”

“She sounds like the typical beauty youtuber these days.”

“Yes, she is. She has no morals.”

“Well that’s not good. I guess that’s why her name keeps popping up all over social media. She really needs to be careful, before she becomes the next Tana.” He was right but you personally thought she was past that point already.

“It’s too late. She’s already passed the point of return with all of this.”

“Yikes. It’s good you got out of there when you did.” A soft but deep laugh was heard through the phone. The sound made you giggle. Hearing such a tough guy laugh the way Corpse laughs, made you feel giddy. “So about what I said earlier, I meant it.”

“Huh, what are you talking about?” You truly were a little lost by this.

Corpse laughed again. “When I called you cute earlier. I meant it.”

Heat filled your face and a small smile made its way to your lips. “Thank you, Corpse. That’s really sweet of you. I don’t like to show many people who I am because they will immediately connect me to Olivia, and I don’t want that.”

“I get that. I don’t show my face for fear they won’t like me when I do. All my fans have built up this expectation of what they want me to look like and now I just don’t want to let them down. Plus it’s nice being able to stay anonymous if I go into public, but of course people will hear my voice and know. Shit, it’s hard.”

“Awe, I’m sorry. I saw what the attention has done to some people, but I think not everyone goes into that headspace. Also, I think you should stay faceless if it makes you feel better. There is no rule that says you ever have to show your face. People who push you to do it have no boundaries.”

Corpse was quiet for a while and you thought you had offended him. “I’m sorry if I said the wrong thing, Corpse.” You squeaked.

“No, you said the right thing. I was just thinking. You’re right. A lot of people have been on me to reveal my face, but I never intend to. I want to be able to live my life without being swarmed by fans, or god forbid, them judging me by my appearance.”

“Which is really fucked. When I first appeared in my sister video, the comments were awful. They couldn’t understand how she was related to me, but I never thought I looked bad. But I guess they expected Olivia to be surrounded by people in her genre. It was so hard to see those comments.” Thinking back to it, Olivia had even added to it. Telling you that you should have tried to look more like her for the video. You should have worn something more colorful and put-on way more make up then you liked. But you hated that. That wasn’t you.

“I can’t imagine the things they said. Is that why you deactivated your twitter?” How did he know about that?

“Oh, yeah. How did you know about it?”

“I remembered seeing a story about it on YouTube last year. They didn’t show your face, so of course I didn’t know it was you. But I figured it out when Olivia joined the game tonight and she blabbered on about being your sister. I’m sorry you received that hate. No one deserves that ever.” His voice was calming you now.

“Thank you. Olivia seemed to add to it, as well. Fuck, she’s just the worst person.” Family definitely had the ability to be shitty. “Meeting Poki last year really was the best thing. But also joining this Among Us group has been so good for me. Thank you for accepting me.”

“Of course. You’re a natural in the game but you also fit very well with the group.” Corpse really hoped you believed him because this was true. The group had a whole conversation about it when Olivia finally left

“I’m flattered. The Corpse Husband is telling me I fit in with him and his streamer friends. Wake me up, I must be dreaming.” You knew his words were genuine because it was just easy to tell.

“You better believe it, baby, because it’s true.”

You stopped short when you heard him call you baby. Of course Corpse had used that word before but right now it felt more intimate.

Letting out a yawn you realized it was nearing 4 am. “I appreciate it.” You mumbled, feeling the events from the day seep in.

“You’re tired, aren’t you?” His deep voice was lulling you closer to sleep.

“No.” Another yawn broke through.

“You can’t lie to me, Y/n. Get some sleep and we will talk tomorrow.”

The words made you smile. “That sounds good, Corpsie. Goodnight.”

“Goodnight, sweet girl.” Despite wanting to stay on the phone, you hung up. Sleep was quickly coming in to claim you. You can happily say you fell asleep with a huge smile on your face.

**

Waking up was easier than it had been in a long time. Normally you woke up to Olivia screaming at you or someone else. So it was nice to wake up to silence. It allowed you to relax and wake up properly.

Your phone buzzed from beside you. A text from Corpse is what you first saw, so you opened it.

Corpse

Good morning, sweet girl. I hope the night treated you well.

Sweet and to the point. His messages made you think he had a thing for you. Well you hoped he did but he also could just be treating you the way he treats friends.

Y/n

Yes, I slept well and for once I wasn’t awoken by my obnoxious sister.

It would he good not to live with her.

Corpse

I bet. Hey I hate to be the one to show you this, but your sister posted this on her instagram.

He then sent a link to the post. It made your blood boil.

::::

There was a picture of her, she was holding up a ripped picture of you. A huge frown was on her face.

oliviaxoxo It’s a shame when family starts to treat you like you weren’t the one to give them money when they needed it. This is my sister and she’s a bitch. For the last few years, she’s been the one editing my videos. Well I found out she was trying to sabotage me, so I had to fire her and kick her out. What a shame it is when family stabs you in the back. 🙃🙃

1,454,787 people like this

oliviafan23 Is this true? Damn, f*ck fake people.

queenolivia Sueeee herrrrr!

lovinliv Family ain’t shit. Spill her info so we can drag her.

sykkuwu Whoa, why are you spreading lies about your own family?

   |

queenolivia Why would you defend someone like that?

valkyrea You’re such a sad human for doing this. Stop lying.

pokimanelol Let’s see, none of this is true. Your sister has done so much for you and you’ve never appreciated it. Get some help for this.

corpse_husband This is sick. No wonder your name is always blasted everywhere. Do your sister a favor and stop talking about her.

    |

oliviaxoxo I don’t know why you’re defending my stupid sister, but that totally makes you not hot to me anymore. Ugh.

   |

valkyrea Uh, that’s what you got from this. Wow, you’re not worth this.

    |

corpse_husband What can you expect? The covid must have gone to her brain.    |

corpseandlivfan Whyyyyyyy Corpse, why would you stand up for her. Do you not realize how horrible Y/n is? Please tell me this is a joke!?!?

   |

 corpse_husband Well, she’s a good friend of mine and I won’t let people make up lies. So it’s not a joke.

::::::::

You were mad that she’d even say this shit publicly, but you should have known she would. She was nothing without her group of misguided followers.

Y/n

Can’t say I’m not surprised. This is so on brand for her. Thank you for sticking up for me. It means a lot.

Corpse

I would do it any day. She shouldn’t be able to get away with doing that to you.

Sadly, growing up, she did get away with doing the absolute worst shit and you always received the brunt of it.

Y/n

With any luck, she draws negative attention.

You clicked the link to view it again but instead were lead to a page that said the content was unavailable.

Y/n

I believe she just deleted the post.

Corpse

Oh, she did. That’s awesome.

It was. Olivia was never one to swallow her pride and admit any wrongdoings. That means she would never delete a problematic post, but she finally did

Y/n

I didn’t really read any other comments besides you and your friends and the top comments. I can’t imagine what her fans are really saying.

Olivia was completely okay with letting her fans attack people. It was seriously a huge mess. She fell into the category of YouTuber with the worst most entitled attitude.

Corpse

It’s good you didn’t read them, because they were horrible. I can’t believe she would let her fans do that.

Y/n

She’s done a lot of shady stuff. This is even before she blew up on YouTube. There is a lot of issues between us.

There was a lot that could be said about your relationship with Olivia and none of them were good. Forever it seemed, you had tried to make it work and hoped your sister would grow up and change but it never happened.

Corpse

I think she’s a vile human. From what I have seen and her complete lack of human decency, I just can’t help but feel she’s just not a good person and she never will be.

He was right. She would never change.

Y/n

You’re right. Hey, I have to go thank Poki for letting me stay but I also need to go back to that apartment to get the rest of my stuff. Can I call you when I get back?

Corpse

Yes, of course. Good luck heading over there.

Talking to him was pretty natural feeling. It was clear now that you were getting a massive crush on him. You had a crush on a man who’s face you’ve never seen. You couldn’t help it though, his personality just meshed so well with yours. He’d made you feel safe and wanted.

After getting dressed, you found Poki in the kitchen making breakfast. She sent you a sweet smile when you entered the room.

“Thank you for standing up for me against my sister on Instagram.” You were truly honored this group of friends liked you enough to do something like this.

“You’re welcome. I couldn’t just let her say that and get away with it. She’s done a lot to you, that you don’t deserve. Corpse messaged all of us the minute he found it and we all jumped into action. Sean and Felix were getting ready to comment when she deleted it.” She explained as she set a plate in front of you.

“I’m so honored. Thank you!”

“Of course, you’re one of us now and we will never let her get away with this stuff anymore.”

You could just cry with how loved they were making you feel. This is what had been missing in your life. Friends who genuinely cared about you and wanted to protect you from the nasty stuff Olivia was capable of doing.

“Would you come with me to the apartment to get the rest of my stuff?” You asked once the two of you finished eating.

Poki nodded. “Of course I will. You shouldn’t have to go alone.”

**

An hour later, you exited the elevator on the floor where you once resided. Your sister wasn’t home, which would be good but there was a chance she could return while you were packing. But you would deal with that when it came down to it. The two of you quickly got to work, packing your life up into the boxes you’d brought with you. Luckily, you weren’t one to collect a ton of stuff. You mainly just had to make sure your clothes and makeup were packed up.          

You and Poki would fill boxes and pile them by there door, then you would take them down to the car when you acquired a good amount. In the end, you figured you would fill maybe 10 boxes which is actually not too many considering you’ve lived in that apartment for five years.

Poki had left to go take two more boxes to the car while you finished up packing up your last few items. The front door closed, and you assumed it was Poki, but it wasn’t.

“Oh look who’s here? My lovely sister.” Olivia’s voice was flat and emotionless.

You rolled your eyes and turned to find her standing in the doorway, glaring at you. “Hello, Olivia. I’m just packing my stuff and then I’m leaving.”

“Who said you were allowed to come back here?” She grumbled, eyeing the boxes.

“Well, this is my stuff and I have every right to come pick it up.”

“If it’s in my apartment, it clearly belongs to me.” She snarled.

You snapped. “Cut it out, Olivia. This was my apartment too, until you kicked me out last night. You can’t just claim my stuff as your because you’re salty about me having friends.” She was a spoiled brat, and you were done letting her get away with it.

“I’m not the salty one. Everyone can see it’s you.” God she was so annoying. You taped up the last box and turned to her. She held her phone in her hand. “Everyone say hi to my sister. You know, the one I posted about earlier before someone reported my post.”

“Are you live?” You asked, keeping your face expressionless. Olivia would do this.

“I bet some of you remember the few videos I did with her. Well of course that was before she turned against me and decided she was going to try and ruin me. Say hi, Y/n.” A sick smile played on her face.

“I never consented to being in your live, Olivia. Please stop.” You tried to keep your voice calm so that she wouldn’t have any way to make you look like the bad person. But regardless, she was already doing it.

Olivia cackled. “Well I think I’m free to do as I please in my apartment.” You could only imagine what her fans were saying. “You’re right, Andrea, she is an idiot, and I should have her arrested.” She spoke aloud making your blood boil.

“You’re so immature, Olivia.” You grumbled before grabbing the last couple boxes and moving towards the door. Olivia decided to swat the boxes out of your hand, and they fell tumbling to the ground. “What the hell, Olivia. I could have fragile stuff in there.” You growled at her.

Olivia was just laughing. “This is funny. What else should I do, guys?” She asked as she panned the phone around the room.

Her immaturity was giving you a headache. Poki walked in and saw Olivia.

“Oh hey guys, look who’s here. Pokimane.” She panned the camera to Poki who frowned. Olivia just laughed and started talking shit until she was cut off by the stream just ending. “What the hell.”

You gathered the last few boxes, and Poki came to help while Olivia attempted to start another live.

“What the fuck, it won’t let me go live.” She growled while stomping her foot like a child.

“That’s what happens when an influx of people report your live.” Poki spoke as you both had gathered the boxes.

Olivia was frowning. “What did you do, Y/n.” She wanted to pounce at her, but Y/n and Poki were already at the door.

“Y/n did nothing, but I got word of your little livestream and contacted some friends for help. It will be at least 24 hours before you can have another live. But with the amount of people who reported you, well you may be banned for a while.” With that, you and Poki left Olivia standing there is absolute shock.

You and Poki put the last boxes in the car. “Thank you, Poki. How did you get so many people to report it?”

“Well it was actually Corpse. He texted me and informed me that she was doing a live and bothering you. He had his fans go report it, but apparently Sykkuno and Rae also sent their fans. I was going to send mine, but they had it handled. So this was all Corpse.” She explained.

Hearing this made you feel so soft for Corpse. “Awe wow. That’s so sweet of him.”

The two of you entered the car. “Y/n, can I tell you something without you telling him I told you?”

You looked over at her. “Yes, sure.” Your heart rate kind of picked up.

“Well the other day, Corpse admitted he has feelings for you, but he wasn’t completely sure if you felt the same way for him. But I mean I can clearly see you do. Your whole face just lit up when I mentioned him. So do you?”

Heat filled your face and you suddenly felt shy. “I do, yes. Which is ridiculous because I just met the guy, and I don’t even know what he looks like. But gosh, I like him so much. When I talk to him, I feel happy. He’s been so good to me through this crap with Olivia.” You admitted, knowing she already knew.

Poki smiled and squealed in complete happiness. “You two are just the most adorable people! It’s not ridiculous. We pretty much knew from the first time you joined us, that Corpse was into you. But oh my god, you’re into him. You need to tell him!!!!”

You agreed, Corpse deserved to know. “I do. But how? It’s been a really long time since I’ve told someone I liked them. Shit, I feel like I’m in high school again!”

This made Poki giggle. “Calm down, Y/n. I have a plan. Let’s get back to the apartment and we will talk about this. Rae also wants to be involved in this.”

Back at her apartment, you had jumped onto a call with Rae and the three of you talked about what your plan was for you to tell Corpse what you felt for him. Rae and Poki decided to organize an Among Us game strictly for fun and no one would stream, they would also use Proximity chat.

“So we will get him to follow you around until one of us is imposter, then we will lock you into wherever you end up. Do it then” Rae explained sounding so excited.

“Okay, that can work. Let’s do this!” You were nervous but also excited to finally do something good for yourself.

You and Poki set up for the gane and Corpse sent you a text.

Corpse

Are you joining the game tonight?

Seeing a text from him, made you feel giddy.

Y/n

Yep I am. So I will see you in game?

Corpse

Yes you will, angel.

Cue the insane butterflies.

**

The lobby loaded and it was you, Corpse, Poki, Rae, Sykkuno, Karl, Tina, Sean, Toast, and Leslie. All streamers you had grown to like a lot in the time you have been playing with them.

“Y/n, I am so happy you’re playing with us!” Tina gushed as her little character ran around yours.

“I’m happy to be here.” You really were.

“You’re sister is a piece of work, Y/n.” Sykkuno said.

You giggled. “Don’t I know it.”

“What did she do this time?” Sean asked.

“Decided to film a live when we went to get Y/n’s stuff from the apartment.” Poki explained.

“Oh, that’s gross.” Karl commented.

“I have to thank Corpse for helping.” You stated to the group.

“Yeah Corpse was quick to text us.” Sykkuno added.

“You’re welcome, Y/n. I wasn’t going to let her get away with what she was doing. Truth is, I got a bunch of fan DMs that were telling me what Olivia was doing. So a lot of my fans were already reporting it, but the tweet helped.” Corpse’s deep voice soothed you.

“I appreciate it so much. She was just being an immature brat as always.”

The group laughed before deciding to start the game. Poki and Rae agreed to text you when either of them were imposter. Now it was a matter of getting Corpse to follow you.

The group was on the Polus map, which seemed to be a favorite for everyone.

Rae

We should lock them in weapons.

Rae had texted you and Poki through the group text.

Poki

That’s the best place for them.

Y/n

Okay but I still have to get him to follow me.

Rae

He will. Just wait, I have a plan.

You trusted Rae and Poki to help you. Now it was time to admit it all to Corpse and hope he genuinely liked you back.

Y/n

Let’s do this!

PART THREE  >>                                         

[teddy06writes]

sapnap x reader where the readers first language is greek and they confess to him in greek without knowing he speaks it too ? i love ur writing btw !! :)

sapnap x reader

first of all, this is such a cute idea and I love it, second of all, I DO NOT KNOW GREEK, so apologize in advance for anything google translate gets wrong

trigger warnings: some swearing, drinking

(y/n/n)- your nickname

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

You’d first seen him from across the quad, whilst searching for a distraction from the boring chattering of your mother on the phone, the dirty blonde man also lost in conversation with the brunette who’d walked beside him.

You continued to watched them on their path through the mess of kids on benches or even the ground, tracing his familiarity to one of your lectures on software design.

What surprised you most, was when he looked over, and smiled at you, he’d caught you in the act of staring at him, and smiled.

You smiled back, not to be impolite, and were pulled back to reality by your mothers voice in your ear, “(y/n), είσαι εκεί? ή έχει πετάξει το κεφάλι σου στα σύννεφα;” (Are you there? Or has your head flown off in the clouds?)

“Είμαι εδώ μαμά.” (I’m here mama) you sighed.

~~

The next time you saw him was at a party some frat house on the other side of campus was throwing.

You hadn’t planned on going, seeing as you barley knew the boys in the frat, and your friends, well, at this college anyway, were nonexistent, but hey, free booze.

So that's how you found yourself, leaning against the living room wall, cup in hand, watching the beer pong game happening in the center of the room.

Taking another sip of your drink you did a mental walk of the room, making mental note of the people you knew, and then there he was again, definitely less than sober, calling dibs on playing the loser of the game.

You watched, amused as the game ended, and he quickly took the place of the loser, taunting the other guy loudly.

Three games (and several beers) later he was still winning, loudly yelling that he could beat anyone at the party.

Unable to help yourself you stepped forward, “I’ll have a go then.”

He looked you up and down proclaiming, “Easy win.”

You smirked, moving up to the table.

The game began, and his confidence quickly wore down, as all your shots either landed, or came very close.

The last few were neck and neck, but soon it was down to three left on your side, and only one left on his.  

Desperately, his first shot got one of yours and you quickly chugged it down, still smirking at him.

You raised an eyebrow as he lined up his next shot, and his eyes flicked to yours just long enough to cause him to miss.

You bit back a grin, easily sinking the last shot, “I’ve bested the beast.”

The people who had been spectating cheered, and the brunette who you’d seen with him before started to laugh his ass off, “They fucking got you Nick!”

“Yeah, I’m aware.” He sounded all too sober for someone who should’ve been that drunk.

You chuckled, turning and disappearing into the crowd.

A half hour later you were half way out the door, not bothering to pull on your jacket, the relative amount of dinking you had done still making your cheeks feel warm.

“Wait! Wait!” He- Nick, you reminded yourself, came half stumbling down the road, “I wanted to say good game.”

“That was half an hour ago.” You laughed.

“Still- i- sorry, what is your name?”

“(y/n), I’m in your intro to software design.”

“I’ve never seen you in there before,” He looked confused, “Which group do you sit with?”

“I don’t really have friends.” You shrugged.

Nick frowned, quickly holding out his hand for a shake, “Hi, I’m Nick, I’m your friend now.”

You looked at his outstretched hand confused, “Yeah o-kay. Your drunk, I’m tipsy and if I’m lucky you won’t remember this in the morning. I don’t really do friends here.”

He nodded as if paying attention, but then said, “You have an accent.”

You nodded, “Yup, I’m leaving now.”

~~

You didn’t see him again after that, for nearly three weeks, and you were beginning to think he really had forgotten, that is, until he approached out out side of the lecture hall, “Hey!”

“Yeah?”

“(y/n) right? Your the one who beat me at beer pong. And then walked away when I asked about your accent.”

You rolled your eyes, “You didn’t ask you literally just stated I had an accent.”

“Well I’m not wrong! I meant to ask why- well not why- just, are you an exchange student or?”

You adjusted your laptop bag on your shoulder, “This isn’t high school. We don’t have exchange students.”

“Well, are you studying abroad then?”

“I’m an American. I can’t study abroad in my own country.”

He looked slightly confused, “Sorry- it’s just with your accent I assumed.”

“I wasn’t born here if that helps.” You turned and started away, pulling out your phone as it started to ring, “Ναι μαμά; Έχω μαθήματα σύντομα, τι συμβαίνει;” (Yes mama? I have class soon, what's wrong?)

~~

“Why are you always alone all the time?”

You groaned, looking up from the firewall system assignment you’d been testing on your tablet, to see Nick, “I’m working.”

“And I’m asking a question,” He sat down at the otherwise empty table, “Why are you always alone?”

“I told you, I don’t have friends here.” You ran the breaker code again, seeing if it could illuminate any unseen holes.

“You were at the party, surely you knew someone there, otherwise you wouldn’t have gone.”

“σκατά“ You muttered, a new problem in the chain arising, “It was an open house party, I heard about it from people I know.” (shit)

Nick frowned, “Oh, thats-”

“Sad, tragic, depressing? Yeah I’m aware.” You sighed.

You saved the project, shutting off your tablet and looking around the empty cafeteria, “Isn’t it like, wicked late? Why are you here?”

“Why’re you?” he countered.

“World’s asleep.” You muttered, packing up the rest of your stuff, “Why do you keep making such an effort to talk to me?”

“Cause we’re friends remember? Shook on it.”

“I never shook your hand.” You grumbled, standing up.

~~

“You know that I’m right!” Nick exclaimed.

“Maybe! But I don’t want to admit it!”

Over the course of a few month Nick had crawled, kicked and wormed his way into your life, all but forcing you to become his friend, and surprisingly, you didn’t mind all that much.

Now you were sitting out on the roof of your dorm, looking up at the night sky.

“I swear your fucking nocturnal dude! Like an owl! And I willingly give up my sleep to hang out with you!”

You hesitated, feeling a sudden jolt of a realization, and as suddenly as a lighting strike, you were falling in love.

You fumbled to recover, “Well you’re the one who went out of your way to become my friend.”

“I mean, too be fair I was drunk.”

“But still went out of your way to be my friend once you were sober.” You pointed out.

“Hey, drunk me makes good decisions sometimes.” He laughed, looking over at you.

You let out a sigh, watching the white wisps of your breath drift up in the sky, “That’s the thing I’ve never got over.”

“What? Drunk me making interesting decisions?”

“The cold,” You said simply, “I’ve lived here half my life, but the cold still doesn’t make sense to me.”

He laughed, “This is Texas, it’s not nearly as cold as it gets up north. Snow’s much more common for now, up there.”

“I’ve never seen snow. Mama doesn’t like it much,” You laughed, “The first time I really heard about it it sounded so strange.”

Nick smiled, “Lets go up north during winter break then. I know people up there, we can go do winter tourist things.”  

“Winter tourist things?”

“Yeah,” He chuckled, “Go ice skating, look at lights, sleigh rides, all that.”

You laughed, “Winter Tourist things.”

~~

A month and a half had passed, your sudden change in feelings toward your only friend on campus had not.

If anything they had just gotten worse, and now, the thing you still couldn’t wrap your head around, you were tossing your suitcase into the back of his car, about to head on your way to the airport, because yes, the Winter Tourist thing stuck.

“Dude, I’m so excited! This is gonna be epic!”

You nodded, “You know, thinking about it, it actually is possible I’ve seen snow, like when I was little. It just never lasted long.”

Nick scrunched up his nose, “Well it’s too late to duck out now!”

“I never said I was ducking out.” You laughed.

~~

The trip had gone pretty well, the snow in the northeast was certainly different than that of Macedonia, but you didn’t think it was all Nick had said it would be.

Still you had enjoyed wandering around the city looking at Christmas lights, attempting to ice skate, and just enjoying each others company.

It seemed like every minute you spent with Nick, you teetered closer to the edge, knowing that by the end of this trip you’d be head over heels for him, if you weren’t already now.

Now you were quietly sitting on the balcony of your hotel room, hands cradled around the warm cup of hot chocolate you’d made, looking out into the swirling darkness above the city.

“You know your gonna freeze if you stay out here.” Nick moved through the door and sat beside you, draping part of a blanket around your shoulders.

“I know.” You sighed.

He looked at you, concerned, “What’s wrong?”

“Νομίζω ότι ερωτεύομαι,” You murmured, a quiet confession, more so to yourself than to him, “και αυτό με τρομάζει.”  (I think I’m falling in love with you... and that terrifies me)

You started to sigh as he looked confused, though only for a moment, because “Τι είναι τόσο τρομακτικό για την αγάπη;” He asked softly. (What’s so scary about love?)

You froze, almost dropping your cup, “ε-ε-ε, εσύ- μιλάς ελληνικά;” (uh- y- uh, you-  you speak Greek?)

“λίγο,” He smiled, “Είσαι ερωτευμένος μαζί μου;“ (A bit... you’re in love with me?)

“λίγο.” (A bit), you breathed, trying to ignore the small space between you seemingly shrink.

“Νομίζω ότι είμαι λίγο ερωτευμένος και εσένα.” He chuckled. (I think I'm a bit in love with you too)

Your breath hitched, and your quickly bridged the small gap between you to kiss him, smiling into it a bit as he kissed back.

“How long?” He asked softly when you pulled apart.

“When you first brought up the trip. You said that you were willing to lose sleep to hang out with me,” You chuckled nervously, “You?”

“Second week of school, you were on the phone with someone, and you smiled back at me,” Nick grinned, “I saw you from across the quad and knew.”

[spiltscribbles]

Prompt 37 (from the first list) and bodyguard au seems interesting

By the way I love your writing please never stopped just finished your recent fic and its one of my favourites.

~Notes: 😭😭😭 baby u can’t be out here recklessly making me sob!!! I am so flustered right now!! Thank you so much for being a beautiful soul 😌😌 ok NEGL the bodyguard thing is not here Becs I’m dumb and couldn’t think of one, but there’s protective sirius💜 I hope you don’t hate this!!! ILU!!!

.-

Smash Game  |  Send Me A Prompt💜 |  A Reblog Means SO Much!!!!

.-

Alphard Black was a good man,  a man of his community,   a man of the law. He taught the ins and outs of the constitution  at Columbia, never went an inch over the speed limit, hell, he even  separated his recyclables into their proper piles for the garbage collector, and  all while spending his down time volunteering at some sort of virtuous charity or impactful outreach program for inner city youths—the man basically leaped right out of the screen of some cheesy, after school special, wacky ties and rumpled hair aplenty.

Alphard Black was a virtuous, humble man who abided by the laws set out for him to a painstaking degree—So Sirius sorta thinks it’s hilarious that he’s kind of the exact antithesis of his uncle— the man who brought him up after running away from his bat shit parents and their bat shit values as the top of the one percent.  Just kind of though.

Sirius likes to think he’s still a good guy—albeit in the typical, non second coming of Christ wannabe kind of way.  He gives spare change to homeless folks at Grand Central, doesn’t sneer at raucous kids inside of restaurants or busses… for fuck’s sake  he even smiles at strangers more often than not—— just the typical, What a nice day isn’t it, smile and not, I’m actually a blood thirsty maniac ready to carve out all your organs and wrap your naked, dead body in saran wrap Dexter style, smile…Which is actually a type of smile Sirius has become intimately familiar with considering that unlike his Uncle Alphard, Sirius may have a problem with the whole “Laws are created for the good of the public,” ideology, and rather subscribes to the way of thought that thinks it’s kind of thrilling to see how much you can bend and skirt around the rules till they break, or till he gets caught. Which in turn mostly manifests into Sirius participating in a very high demand business—the sort that’ conducts it’s transactions within the metaphorical underground, and makes it so he spends his days with a group of brilliant  assholes that he considers family, and a discretely wicked boy who he thinks is most probably the love of his god forsaken life.

Mother Mary,  help them all.

~*~

“Padfoot too Moony, are you in, Moony.” 

A moment of static passes before Remus’s voice trickles through the minuscule bluetooth  snuggled in Sirius’s ear, and he can’t help but smirk. “Why are you still trying to make these codenames work—they don’t work, they’re all awful and trash,  and we should just stick with the numbers we were given when Moody first scouted us.”

“Mmm yeah, Moons, talk dirty to me.”

“You’re a fucking idiot,”

“Say trash again.”

“I hate you,” Remus intones. He  sounds all surly and bothered, and Sirius’s fingers curl together to card through the phantom strands  of his hair, knowing full and well how adorably flustered Remus gets whenever they are having one of their little sparring sessions—It’s also the same look he gets whenever he’s incredibly turned on and has no idea how to handle it. Coincidence? Sirius thinks not.

“Ah, Moony, my love, you say that as if my perfect baritone isn’t the highlight of your day. Like you don’t write sonnets and odes about it’s every cadence and lilt in your little diary you think I don’t know about. As if—“

“I’m shutting you off now,” Remus cuts in with his best, I’m trying to pretend  that I am so totally annoyed even if I’m actually really amused by you and all your antics, voice. It’s one that’s basically come second nature to him whenever he speaks to Sirius, ever since they had met three years ago and Sirius had to teach him the trick of the trade after Remus had been invited into the fold, while also trying not to completely accost him with his lips and hands and teeth until the work day was over.

“You would never.” 

“You seriously have an overinflated sense of worth if you’re starting to doubt that I very much would,” Remus goads, but he forgets that Sirius can see every nook and cranny of the swanky penthouse from his perch in the getaway van, thanks to his very beautiful laptop monitor.  And yeah, Sirius can so totally spot that little flicker of a grin tugging on the edges of his pink lips,  where Remus is trying to hide it behind the flute of wine in his grasp—his very strong and capable grasp, one that’s wrapped around the neck of that glass just so tight—Oh, erm, yeah. That’s  a thought Sirius should definitely not be having at their current predicament.

“Righto, beautiful, whatever you say.”

“Was there an actual reason for your little interference, besides you being pissy that you had to take the get away position this time around?” Remus sighs, long suffering before offering a subdued, half grin to a very haughty looking woman passing him, predatory leer on her plump lips. And jeez, Sirius bemoans her poor eardrums if they’re suppose to be carrying diamonds that thick all night long— Poor hag will probably end up needing stitches like his dear mother.

“I missed you is all, lover.”

“Goodbye, Sirius.”

“Oh fine, you total spoil sport. Just an FYI that Marlene’s gotten into the volt’s room, and she’s decoding it as we speak.”

“Oh, good. Should I-“

“Moons, it’s Marls, she’s got her shit handled. You just stand there and be a the good, pretty honeypot that we all know you can be.”

Remus growls somewhere deep in his throat, and it’s bringing a flurry of such beautiful imaginings to the forefront of Sirius’s mind— including last night, with Remus’s lovely, thin wrists tied up and Sirius’s mouth trailing up and down his every patch of skin.

God, was that a good night.

“You’re a pain in my ass.” 

“I know, it’s a point of pride for me that I get to say I tap that. But hey, always game to switch things up if you are?”

“You are the absolute worst person ever.”

“Ooo are we circling back around to speaking filthy things, because I’ve been having this fantasy including you and these lace—“

That’s when Remus actually does shut off the communication device, and starts chatting up some smarmy businessman who can’t stop staring at his protruding collarbones.

Sirius is most certainly not jealous.

Nope, not at all—Not even a little bit.

Sirius is not jealous.

Okay, fine…So he’s a bit bothered, but can anyone blame him? All of that—chorded muscles and sparkling eyes—is reserved for  Sirius, and Sirius alone. It’s taken years of volleying barbs and really intense sexual tension that was all finally resolved after a way too dramatic spat outside some sleazy BDSM club on the wrong side of town where Sirius got himself fucking shot, and Remus couldn’t stop yelling at him for being such a mother fucking, idiotic, thoughtless prick, (Remus’s words not Sirius’s,) for them to finally get to this point. For fuck’s sake, it seemed as if Remus’s anger fueled diatribe would never end, so Sirius just took the dilemma into his own hands and slanted their lips together, bloody and breathless, panting out an “I love you too,” while Remus just patted up and down Sirius’s torso, not knowing where to put his hands, dumbfounded and eager. As if he could hardly believe that it was actually happening, as if he was shocked that Sirius had finally just put them out of their mutual misery and spoke out loud what’s been lingering in their gazes, and tailing the ends of too short exchanges for years at that point—ones always composed of banter and barbs but always to fearful to take the extra step they yearned for.

Yeah, so it wasn’t exactly a cinderella story level of romance, but the point is they’ve fought tooth and nail to finally get to this point in their relationship. Nights made up of spilt hair on warm sheets, and  hungry kisses of farewell, and shirts tumbling together so many times that  they don’t even know which belongs to who anymore—All of them lingering with a sent of both of them, together. Something intimate. Something remarkable. Something far too soft when considering their line of employment—But it works for’m, and that’s all that counts.

Before Sirius could get to lost in getting all starry-eyed over the life they’ve built for themselves, Sirius moves to sweep his hands across the keyboard, A cautious eye still on Remus and his unwanted suitor while dividing the screen so that he can check back on Marlene’s progress, which is quite impressive if he does say so himself.

“And Black Widow pulls through again,” He commends with a low whistle, watching her practically stroll out of the volt, ancient artifact securely settled in the bag swinging off her shoulder, and cocky sneer proudly splayed across her pretty face.

“You know it dweeb.”

“THat’s not my code name,” Sirius points out  with a put upon exhale.

Marlene’s only response is to hike up her manicured brows in counterfeit surprise.  “you sure? I could’ve sworn…”

Sirius legitimately contemplates just driving off and leaving her stranded, signaling to Remus a separate meet up point for just the both of them. But Eventually, he reasons  that might be a bit of an over reaction. So he settles for just growling out a reminder for her  to “Respect the name,” while a glowing Marlene slinks into the passenger seat.

“Your so precious.” Sirius swats her hand away where she’s begun rubbing her knuckles into his scalp. “Call pretty boy and let’s bounce, will you?”

Reluctant, Sirius listens—only and only because he’s about ninety nine point five percent positive that she could probably beat’m to a pulp with one hand tied behind her back and both eyes glued shut.

~*~

The mission was one they’ve been calculating for months, a huge catch with a credibility brought with it that doubles its actual monetary prophet—(And wowza, that price check is all levels of ridiculous.) Moody is beyond  proud, and tells them as much with a crazy large celebration back at their little underground headquarters, (which is actually an entire floor on one of the top levels of a huge ass skyscraper in the meatpacking district that disguises itself as just a financial consultant firm in the light of day.)

It’s made even more wonderful considering how he, Remus and Marlene are basically the guests of honor for their success. So that night  they drink, and dance and just generally get absolutely slobbered…Then subsequently remember nothing the following morning, as tradition always dictates.

Though Sirius does  distinctly remember trading sloppy hand jobs in the bathroom with Remus while the latest Beyonce banger pounds in the space between them.

 It’s a good night.

~*~

Unsurprisingly, the hangover that persists even two days later really makes Sirius question the worth of all that celebrating, and he ponders on whether or not being sober would be so bad.

“Morning, Black!” 

Sirius cringes back at a crowing Dorcas—Looking as wickedly gorgeous and put together as always—Dark eyes clear and methodic, and long curls obviously freshly washed. 

“Sorcerous!” He accuses with as much vehemence as he could muster. “your evil! How are you even so perky! Stop it! Stop! You’re hurting my eyes!”

Dorcas just preens with far too much amusement than what should be warranted—it’s almost as if she’s enjoying his pitiful disposition. “Not all of us got as sloppy as you Saturday night may I remind.”

“Then you’re doing your entire life incorrectly.”

“I just have a modicum of self restraint, unlike you.”

“Lies! Lies and slander! I am so very disciplined! I didn’t even tell you guys about the time Remus gave me a blow job in the middle of a glass elevator when we were shopping for Jamsie and Lily’s engagement gift!”

Dorcas just rolls her eyes heavenwards, painstakingly exasperated. “C’mon, dumb ass, Alice needs you to use those hacking skills of yours to get the money Lestrange still owes us for collecting those tears of the ocean. And her bank account is sealed shut.”

“Ah, no Cas ’s too early! And my head hurts! I can’t.”

“Shouldn’t have been such a drunken mess during the party I reckon,” Dorcas scoffs with an imperious tilt of the head, tugging him along without even an ounce of sympathy.

“Hey! It was a celebration!” Sirius flails, and Dorcas just looks at him with a decidedly unconvinced glower. 

“It’s all in moderation Sirius.”

“Not at a party it isn’t!” He argues back, totally knowing he’s in the right.

“Yeah whatever, you’re just lucky you weren’t sent off to Shanghai with lover boy, which by the way,” Dorcas pivots on her heels  to face Sirius straight on, prodding at the juncture where his neck meets his shoulder.  “Looks like you missed a hickey sweets,” she toots loftily, poking at it again, a flush blooming across Sirius’s cheeks in response.  “Not good work decorum if you ask me.”

“You’re face ’s not good work decorum,” Sirius snarks back mulishly. Dorcas just laughs with glee.

“Do I need to talk to poor, innocent Remus about proper biting placement for you once he gets back?”

“Pff, Remus and innocent don’t belong in the same sentence.”

“Fine, then  I can just give you some tips on how to properly layer foundation? I’m sure it’s a travesty how easily shit shows up with your Wonder Bread complexion.”

“You actually are evil! Aren’t you?”

Sirius could still hear Dorcas’s cackles from down the hall where Alice has set him up for the morning, and he idly thinks to himself how exactly he’s made it so that every woman in his life could destroy him with nothing more than a look.

~*~

Considering that all of their  livelihoods are basically glorified bank robbers, Sirius knows that their jobs don’t really lend themselves to being able to check in on each other whenever they’d please—the only devices they’re allowed for communication are the bluetooth sets  for the team deployed on the task at hand, and a single burner. It can get annoying sometimes, but Sirius and Remus always make it a point to send each other a message from the router phone  whenever they arrive to the mission’s ground of operation—It’s a practice ingrained into them, one  they began long before they ever started dating, one  that they never break, not even if they’re arguing or it’s the middle of the night—It’s important. They’ve both lost to many people in their short lives, and they both know how it feels to be delegated to the worrying mess, wondering what’s happening to their loved one, being consumed by the most awful of possibilities. They do it because they respect each other far too much not to.

So Sirius finds it excruciatingly odd that he doesn’t hear from Remus in over thirty-six hours since he left to the Shanghai hit. 

“Maybe he just forgot, Pads,” James shrugs, always the level headed ringleader. “No Proclivity is absolutely bullet proof—Ah, excuse me for the unplanned pun.” He scratches the back of his head a little sheepishly— the glasses of his wireframes glinting in the light of their shared workspace.

And the thing is, point. James is totally right. Remus just could’ve forgot. It was a long plane ride, he could’ve just been jet legged and a little dazed and it could’ve just slipped his mind  to message Sirius when he landed. That’s totally a possibility. 

But see the thing is, that’s also totally not a possibility—like at all. Remus is like the most diligent person on the face of the planet, which may kind of seem out of character considering how he’s more of the type to follow his heart over protocol when it counts, and his entire livelihood is based off the evasion of the law—But even still, Remus is also the guy who likes a true and tried method. He likes having security in the aspects of his everyday  life he can control. Sirius knows how borderline neurotic Remus can get about certain things, like finishing all of his paper work the night it’s given, or having a stable workout regiment, and a bunch of other minuscule, everyday things that tethers him. But Sirius also knows that the texts Remus sends him blows all of those out of the water. They’re something crucial—something vitally important. If the roles were reversed, if it were Sirius who forgot to send the text, then yeah, Remus would have a perfect history to look back on and just shrug it off as Sirius having been thoughtless, no big deal. Remus would just make a note to give him  an ear full when he gets back. 

But the rolls aren’t reversed.

It’s Remus who didn’t send anything, and Sirius knows it in his heart of hearts that this is not normal, that Remus would never have forgotten. Remus would never have fucking been able to go to sleep without passing Sirius a message of safe arrival. It’s just not him. 

James still looks unsure even after Sirius’s way to verbose and borderline babbling explanation of why he knows something isn’t adding up, so he decides to hit him below the belt.

“If this were Lily you wouldn’t be second guessing this.” 

James jolts back as if Sirius had just smacked him, which Sirius guesses is kind of true, in the metaphoric sense at the very least. But whatever, Sirius’s right, and he knows it. 

IF this was Lily— the beautiful, kind baker that James had met coincidentally on a random Sunday afternoon, someone completely divorced from this world— well, there would  be no room for discussion.

“IF this were Lily you would trust your gut, and we’d already know what went wrong. We’d know that you were right, the she wasn’t safe.” Sirius’s face feels heated, and he knows that his throat is closing up, but he can’t help it god damn it. This is Remus—And even the thought of him being in any way hurt—No, Sirius refuses to think that way. Because he’s not, he can’t be. This is Remus god damn it. He’s brilliant and strong and he can handle himself. He’s what everyone in their group secretly strive to be—He’s not hurt, he can’t be hurt.

James just sits there, gawking at Sirius, for a moment of pure and utter silence. Sirius doesn’t even flinch, doesn’t fold back from the intensity in his best friend’s— his brother’s— gaze. 

“This is Remus god damn it, James”

Something fierce rippling over his face, James nods, finally seeming to understand.

“Let’s tell Moody,  and call a group meeting. We need to figure out what the hell’s going on.” 

Sirius sags with the little relief he’s given, pretends that it doesn’t feel like there’s not a wildfire still spreading over his chest  from the  bone deep fear.

~*~

Two hours later finds their little ragtag group huddled in the largest meeting room they have, and  Sirius hunched over a menacing letter that was hand delivered by one of Lestrange’s ghoulish little minions— Crouch if their intel is correct. 

“Any news is good news, right?” Peter— their mousey little researcher— says in some weak attempt of comfort from where he’s silently been situated in the love seat the furthest away from the lump some, and Sirius replies by snarling viciously at him;  making Peter shutter back, like the spineless weasel Sirius has always assumed him to be.

Sirius is not comforted. Sirius is furious and sick and he hates everything  in sight. And all Sirius could think of is Remus, Remus, Remus.

“What do we do,” James’s voice is strong, convicted in the painful silence of the room—But when Sirius looks up, he could still see the worry etched into his handsome features, and the fear threaded into his stance. 

James is scared, and that might worry Sirius more than anything else could. 

“This is my fault, I sanctioned just stealing the money she owed us and I was the one who thought Remus would be fine on a solo mission—I thought it’d be a simple grab. I didn’t put two and two together—I just didn’t—“ Alice breaks off, looking away from the group, and Frank slings an arm around his wife’s slender shoulders.

“Hey now, ’s not your fault, ’s not no ones,” as if to emphasize his point, Frank gives a downright menacing grimace to everyone in the room, daring them to disagree. “It’s Remus, he’s resilient. And that bitch knows if he’s actually hurt we’ll destroy everything she’s ever built for herself.” 

“Don’t be so sure,” Sirius’s surprised of the jaggedness of his own voice, leveling him with a look of utter fury. “She’s a psychotic, selfish, self indulgent bitch—There’s worse things than just beating him up or locking him in some cellar.” 

From the corner of his eye he sees Alice shutter, is briefly reminded of that stint where she was badly injured after a run in with one of the darker ringleaders in their line of work, Riddle. And then he remembers, unbidden, how that bastard has some sort of fucked up Harley Quinn, Joker esthetic going on with Bellatrix Lestrange— and a sick, twisted part of Sirius that actually does blame Alice for sanctioning those two risky missions so close together, is savagely pleased of the effect that the reminder has on her. But the rest of Sirius is just disgusted by himself and hates himself even more when remembering where Remus is at this very moment, and what he must be going through. There’s no time to be pointing fingers, and Sirius knows it.

“Whatever, no time to think of it now,” Sirius rises, and the way all of their eyes follow his every move (Even Moody who is the actual boss— doesn’t go over his head. 

“What do you think we should do from here?” Dorcas asks in a small voice, clutching onto the letter like a life line—She’s Remus’s best friend, Sirius knows that, knows that she stopped only skirting  along the edges of this unsavory line of work until Remus came along and helped her wiggle out of her shell. And the reminder makes Sirius feel such a burst of aching for Remus all at once that he nearly topples over, just barely catches himself with a hand on the tabletop.

“Peter,” Sirius barks, making the blonde finally straighten. “Check out where Bellatrix is scheduled to appear next.”

“Ah, erm on it, of course.” 

Sirius starts to feel a little better—no not better, balanced. He knows what needs to be done, what will   happen next, knows that it’ll turn out all right. 

It has to turn out all right, because he can’t fathom a world where it doesn’t— a world without Remus isn’t worth even a breath.

~*~

If there’s anything that Sirius knows about supreme bitch face herself, it’s that Bellatrix is  cavalier to a fault. So it really doesn’t surprise him when Peter finds out that she’s holding a little gala for her new play things art exhibit in her own home that night, and Sirius intends on giving his congratulations, whether or not he’s on the guest list. 

~*~

“Hey, can you hear me.” 

Sirius presses an inconspicuous finger onto his eardrum when Dorcas’s voice breaks through, speaking the affirmative. 

“All right, well Moody says that upstairs is most likely where you’ll find’m. Marlene and James will stay down at the party just incase anything goes wrong.” 

“Right,” Sirius nods to himself, trying to put together all the new information that’s swimming in his mind. “Thanks Cas.”

“Stay safe, and bring him home. Don’t fuck this up, Sirius.” Her voice is small and fragile. Sirius could picture the gleam to her big doe eyes. “We need you both safe.”

“Of course."

~*~

As expected, the upstairs is a labyrinth of doors and alcoves that Sirius could barely wrap his mind around, the only constant thought is that it makes sense that Bellatrix would want to keep the money from the job she had them perform for her. The rent for this place definitely can’t be cheap.

Sirius tries at least ten different rooms before he comes across one that’s locked from the inside as well as a deadbolt, and His heart seizes with a choked sort of hope before he starts pounding against it. 

“Remus! Remus! Are you in there!” His voice goes ragged at how loud he’s screaming, but Sirius doesn’t let up. He starts calling  for him even louder if possible. “Remus!” 

“Ah, ah, ah,” Sirius stiffens, his blood running cold before slowly turning around to a very amused looking Bellatrix Lestrange. Predatory sneer swept across her blood red lips, and weight slung to her left hip. The picture of radiance and leisure in her slinky, black dress. She’s having fun toying with Sirius, with all of them. 

“Where the fuck is he,” Sirius spits out tersely—trying to sear wholes right through her disarming face. He thinks with a start  that she’d be pretty in an almost unchanging way—a timeless elegance that kind of mirrors Remus’s. But where beneath Remus’s golden exterior is all passion and goodness and an endless capacity of love, under Bellatrix’s pale white skin and dark eyes and sheets of even darker hair is just ugliness and cruelty and Sirius has never hated anyone more, or so intensely.

“Oh sweetheart, I’m so sorry that they sent the best of their group to the den,” She swaggers up to him, each step premeditated—a lion closing in on her prey, and her leer right then— self assured and cruel all at once— is like a mirror of his mother’s so thoroughly that it’s painful. “I’d really hate to ruin those movie star good looks you’ve got going on,” she runs the back of her hand down his face slowly, tendrils of her warm breath edging his lips. “And honey, you really are so deliciously gorgeous. But Moody needs to learn that no one double plays me so flippantly. No  respect, that kind of behavior  really can’t be tolerated. You understand that, don’t you  love?”

Right then, Bellatrix moves to  gouge Sirius right in the stomach with a dagger she had hidden in the sleeve of her dress—but Sirius’s quicker. 

He sweeps Bellatrix’s feet right from under her, twisting her arm behind her back and using her own weapon to chop off the doorknob, all in one fluid movement. Though,  he only has a sparing moment to feel boastful before he steps into the room to find Remus—sickly looking with blood matted in his golden locks, before everything turns to a buzzing in  the background—Sirius runs on autopilot, with the only crucial thought being to get Remus out safely. 

“Baby, I’m here, I’ve got you.” Sirius tells him with the words catching in his throat, and feels such a drowning amount of relief when he hears a gargled retort from Remus. “I’d never let anything happen to you, love. I’m so sorry. I’ll never let something like this happen again.” Sirius tells him with all the earnestness in the world, gently collecting him into his arms. “I’ve got you now, I won’t let go.” The promise is  as sure and true as the pump of his heart—Remus, Remus, Remus.

~*~

When they all return to headquarters, everyone circles a still limp and shallowly breathing Remus, while Dorcas figures out the extent of his injuries.

It’s the worst hour of his life Sirius thinks—The not knowing, it hurts like nothing else. And he swears once more, to himself and the moonlight and the stars peeking through the skyline that he’ll never let this happen, never again., doesn’t want Remus ever out of his sight.

~*~

A week later, and everything feels as if it’s back to normal—more or less.

Their bedroom smells like sage—thanks to the candles Lily bought Remus for his last birthday—And Remus’s swaddled into the most comfortable blanket Sirius could find—his twisted ankle elevated, and a fresh bowl of soup on his night stand.

It’d be the picture of absolute bliss… Now if Remus wasn’t scowling so morosely. 

“You seem mad,” Sirius notes, standing over him with a freshly fluffed pillow. Remus looks up at him from under his spider leg lashes, so very unimpressed.

“You’ve never taken care of me  nearly so intently   a day in your life.”  Remus charges.

“Untrue!” Sirius squawks in contrary. 

“When I got food poising from that sushi place last year, you blamed me for eating it wrong.”

“Yeah, well it’s blasphemous to ever blame Kimiko! The woman is a titan!” 

Remus’s mouth quirks up, his eyes twinkling with unadulterated adoration. “You’re an idiot.”

Sirius deflates. “Okay, so I might be kind of majorly mother penning it right now,” Remus cranes a incredulous brow. “Okay, okay so a lot mother penning it. But, Remus— love— you were missing—like legitimately missing. And then i found you and you were…” He trails off, can’t even speak the horrors of that night. 

“Yeah, I was,” Remus links their fingers together, pulling Sirius closer, and opening his mouth so that when Sirius crouches to come face to face, he can kiss him properly.  “But you happen to be a pretty all right boyfriend, you found me—I’m fine. You made sure of that.”

“More than all right prick,” Sirius knocks their foreheads together and Remus feigns being in excruciating pain. “I fucking hate you,” he snorts, saddling against Remus’s side, and nuzzling into his neck, taking in the miraculous scent of him— the citrus and cinnamon and sunlight that he’s come to crave at all hours of the day. “I love you sort of a lot, and it was the worst three days of my life, all right. Can you understand that?” 

Remus only hums,  kisses the tips of Sirius’s fingers before lacing them into his own.

“I understand, love, but Sirius, I’m fine. I’m here. You’re amazing, but you don’t need to protect me. Not constantly. This is our lives, and I need you to trust me that I can handle myself for the most part. All right?” 

Sirius makes a displeased sound, lips curled distastefully, and it makes Remus actually giggle like they were school boys again. And Jesus, Remus’s smile is blinding and beautiful and fucking hell, he’s here. He’s back in there room, back in Sirius’s arms.

“God, I missed you.”

Remus crunches upwards, kissing Sirius, and it feels like a promise that he’ll never leave him again. “I love you Sirius.”

Sirius leers, isn’t ready to have the conversation about learning how to let Remus go out without him. So instead he traces his thumb over Remus’s beautifully plump bottom lip, and bends down to whisper into his ear. “So can we talk about the lace then, because I’ve made some purchases and—“

Remus pushes him off their bed, and Sirius feels his laughter punching out of him in response.

~*~

~My Wolfstar FIC Index💜

[mrdrhenwardhykle]

So, I had this thought process

I've been thinking a lot about that Adam Sandler movie "Pixels", and I think I just wrote a summarized alternate plot for it in my head and I need to write it down.

Okay;

Let's start by brainstorming on writing better and more relatable protagonists. For many, this movie is very hard to watch because it almost feels like a bunch of middle-aged guy's writing in nice-guy self inserts of themselves to feel better about whatever mid-life crisis they're having. And maybe this wouldn't be too bad if their characters were just a bit more than "middle aged creep who lives in his mom's basement is secretly a romantic warrior when put in the right scenario".

At least for me, it's very hard to relate to that kind of protagonist; given how that character is usually the most developed out of all the characters in this type movie. I often find that it's hard to relate to nerdy nice guy characters who often get away with the lack of likeable qualities just because "life should have treated them better". It comes off more as a pity-party more than anything, and their unmotivated dynamic with the "out of their league" love interest, who always comes off as nothing more than a trophy and\or act as an excuse to get the climax rolling in the last 20 minutes after getting captured by the big bad.

So then, how would I write an 80's nostalgia themed adventure movie? What, say, would you think would be a practical way to write the main cast in a way that audiences new and old can relate? Easy; If your intention is to give your entire audience a wave of nostalgia, but to still keep it relatable, then why not make your main cast kids? (credit to Black Nerd Comedy for that idea) I would probably suggest between the age of 12 and 16, and maybe with the occasional big brother\sister type characters and some of their friends . Kids often have a ton of freedom, a large imagination, basic priorities, and a lot less worries than adults. Just about anyone should be able to relate to that, since everybody either was or is a kid at some point of time. And I'm not saying that you can't write for\relate to older protagonists, but you don't want to alienate your audience, especially when making something that might catch the eye of a younger crowd.

Not to mention that ever since the 80's, kids have always been a major player by the impact of technology. For some reason though, the plot of Pixels doesn't really have to do with technology. There's guns and contraptions that are specifically made to destroy the pixels, but it doesn't really go much father than that with the tech. The plot more focuses on going on the "alien invasion" route (which I would think would be more 60's sci-fi based than 80's, which was more experimental in cosmic horror with its alien media)(not including Space Invaders. Shush. That does not count). Honestly, I think 80's nostalgia can be replaced with just about anything when it comes to a "shape-shifting aliens who mimic earthly cultures" plot. It's very basic, yet it doesn't really fit in with the theme of arcade games. It just comes off as a poor excuse for pandering to 80's kids, instead of using that element to bring up interesting concepts and world-exploring in this universe.

So I have two solutions for this, either;

A. Do not do a time jump, and keep the story in the 80's. Make it an alternate universe where different forms of consoles and computers are being developed. Maybe the adult characters are very unfamiliar with these changes, but allowing for the kid characters to have more of an advantage because that stuff would be more relevant to them. Because this was before a time where kids often thought about becoming programmers, it will also work as a disadvantage to the kids because they won't have an excuse to suddenly know how the opposing side works.

Or B. It takes place in a modern era, with Virtual reality, game consoles, and laptops, but it doesn't overly modernize itself with teens on phones, saying outdated things like "lemmie just take a selfie" saying "hashtag" out loud, or any junk like that (Because guess what? Teens and kids don't usually act like that). Maybe make the environment time neutral by making it a mix between the 2010's, 2000's, 1990's, and 1980's. I don't really think it's relevant enough to work in a present setting.

And lastly, let's talk about the big bad of the movie.

Really in Pixels, it's more of a self-struggle either projected upon others, or manifested into it's own being for the protagonist to succeed. There's not really a lot of leg space for anyone else to develop other than the main character (and perhaps something happens occasionally to the comedic reliefs\mascot characters). I imagine maybe this version doesn't have just one central character\plot, kind of like Stranger Things. However, unlike Stranger Things, I would also like a compelling and intriguing villain. Sadly, Pixels doesn't really have that; i has Donkey Kong, but he's nothing more than an alien catering to the protagonist's inner struggles (and nostalgia). There's nothing really more to DK other than that, so there's not a lot of difference between him and any of his previous minions.

And there's nothing really compelling about DK; because at least in canon, he's just a scared circus animal. There's not a lot of reasoning behind his actions other than to just invade. It's basic alien stuff like I said before, it can basically be replaced with some other theme than arcade games.

So what would be a compelling antagonist? Foils to the main group of characters (such as an older school bully, or maybe twisted programmers), create conflict, but if we're keeping the theme of attack of the machines and videogame characters, there has to be a bigger bad than that.

Oh! If only there was an already established villain-coded, tech-based, 80's icon with the ability to control almost all technology!

....

Trust me, I'm onto something!

Max Headroom was always presented as an egotistical talking head. He had multiple shows in the 1980's, as well as guest starred on multiple shows. Perhaps Max survives off of his viewers, and constantly strives to expand his audience. Max does not tend to care about other's well beings, and just wishes to use them as a way to gain publicity for his shows. Max also has a tendency to step over whoever he needs to to gain popularity, including his own film crew.

Max also has multiple canon abilities such as:

Being able to transfer to any screen (including arcade games)

See and interact with the people watching him

Control more than one screen

Interact with himself from one screen to another (multitask)

Turn on and off lights (and likely other outlets as well)

Manipulate the visuals of the screen that he's controlling

All of these abilities can be expanded and explored enough to set him up as a powerful and unpredictable villain.

I've also came up with a couple motives as well;

A. If this is in a modern era, Max could be suffering from a long hiatus since he hasn't been that active since the 80's; causing Max to seek as much attention to thrive off of as possible. To do this, Max hijacks as many outlets as possible to air his show. He might also use this as a way to repel audiences away from all other media; making it easier to turn to him for entertainment.

B. This takes place in an alternate universe where Max Headroom became more popular than it originally was. He starts taking over half of ads and television shows on air, getting more power hungry with each channel he takes. However, in his media take-over, ratings take a slight drop due to uninterested children who have turned to other outlets like toys, videogames, and arcades. This inspires Max to take a full takeover over everything electrical, causing a full invasion of all things electrical.

(I also forgot to mention that Max very likely hates children, and has canonly protested the execution of all of them)

Bam! And there you have it. A slightly more efficient plot for Pixels.

This was rotting in my head for a while and I wanted to let it out. Sorry for the ramble.

[jjuzoir]

request: “hi! i saw reqs are open and you write for yttd so hi! this is my first time requesting but yttd deserves more hype 🥺 can you write about sou/shin who wants cuddles but his s/o (female or gn is fine) is as much as a workaholic as him, so they don’t give in to him and keep coding away on their computer? no pressure at all, thank you ☺️❤️” by

a/n: this was my first yttd request^^ i really like sou/shin as a character ;; (though i did end up saving kanna) his whole 0% chance and the midori/shin/sou twist was so good!! i really want to replay saving him instead of kanna^^

warning: spoilers for chapters 2 and 3 of YTTD;; also; jm sleep deprived and my mental state ?? nonexistent

word count: 1780

- You and Sou had met during the Death Game and had grown closer during the second floor, having spent most of your time trying to help Kanna and, in return, spending more time with Hiyori.

- At first, your relationship had been rocky— you had all woken up in a strange place and tasked with trying to survive, he was rather stubborn and kept you often times at an arm’s length but, with enough work on your part fueled by stubbornness and a desire to get to know the teal-haired man, you soon were able to get to know him better.

- Out of everyone in the game Hiyori and you were the closest, and Kanna of course too, and as much as Sou might’ve wished it didn’t happen, your relationship soon took a romantic turn. He still had moments of doubt, and a selfish part of him wishes he never cared about you, growing to care about anyone in a situation like this wasn’t smart, but he did.

- You were determined to find a way out, much like him, and were willing to pour your all into finding a way to escape the facility and Sou admired that about you, and so he decided he’d work hard to find a way for you two to escape no matter what.

- With both of your missions set out, it wasn’t surprising to say you both weren’t taking care of yourselves much; work, work, and more work needed to be done to find a way to escape and figure this whole thing out.

- Sou was good with computers and, much to his surprise, so were you; so both of you ended up dividing the work between each other. You’d normally work with the monitors near the price exchange stand while your boyfriend would spend most of his time in his room with Kai’s laptop.

- Your work felt endless, lines of code and numbers and letters; all becoming more jumbled as your eyes grew tired but you couldn’t give up; not only was your survival on the line but also of the ones you’d grown to care for, especially Kanna and Sou.

- You had spent hours typing away on the monitors trying to trace back a starting point or figuring out how to access them without having to spend any chips (much to the receptionist doll’s amusement). You knew you probably weren’t making much progress if he hadn’t gotten mad at you yet and that only grew to frustrate you more.

- Your fingers hurt from typing and clicking away in the small, cramped keyboard you’d found in the ruble— the fact Kai didn’t have an AI either only frustrated you more, if he’d had one maybe you could’ve learned more from him. You could only hope his AI was somewhere within the code, if he even had one.

- Determined to crack the code, you simply take the worn down laptop you’d been using and leave; no one had made a move to stop you, the floor master clearly didn’t care enough if you took it with you to bed. And so you do.

- It was getting late, Sou noted as he looked at the clock that hung from the gray walls in his room. You should’ve come by hours ago telling him about what you’d found— that’s what you’d always done at least.

- At the realization you weren’t coming, the teal-eyed man grew slightly concerned, maybe you had found out something Gashu or Ranger didn’t want you to and- no way, if he had come this far then you surely could too… right?

- He doesn’t realize he’s standing up and making his way to your room until he’s knocking on the door.

- He hears a grunt from the other side and takes it as a yes. He knew you well enough to know what you were doing but it still took him by surprise to see your hunched over figure typing away in the small, old laptop you’d found in the monitor room.

- He furrowed his eyebrows but didn’t move from his spot in the doorframe. He stared at your concentrated face and wondered if you’d always had this work ethic or if you were just worried about leaving the facility, were you a good worker before? He thinks of the past for a moment and feels his chest squeeze, if there was one good thing about this hellhole it was having met you, he thinks to himself.

- But still, the thought of a past where suffering wasn’t even imaginable has him wondering how your lives would’ve been, would you two have met? Could you two have been coworkers? Would everything align to make you lovers like it had now?

- At the thought, Sou found himself growing uncharacteristically soft. In the short time you two had been together you never really did anything, well, couple-y at all, due to the circumstances it wasn’t a shocker but he wanted to try changing that… he wanted to try being more affectionate with you.

- You still hadn’t noticed him standing in your door, so he decides to approach you. Quietly making his way near your desk, he places a hand in your shoulder and gives it a squeeze earning a shocked gasp and jump from you.

- “You should go to bed.” Sou mumbles to you from beneath his scarf.

- “Ah, Sou… you scared me!” You laugh off his comment, “I’m working right now but once I’m done I’ll go to sleep, don’t worry.”

- “It’s late, you shouldn’t even be thinking about coding right now.” He insists, if he was correct you’d been working on the laptop for 9 hours straight- as much as he admired your determination you needed to rest.

- You don’t even answer him back this time, busy typing away and scrolling through the seemingly endless rows of numbers and your boyfriend sighs and sits on the edge of your bed. If you continued like this you’d end up knocking yourself out- at least like this you’ll have someone to catch you.

- You don’t give his actions much thought; if he wanted to sit down and you type away on the computer then so be it; as long as he didn’t bother you. But bother he did, if there was one thing Sou could pride himself in other than his computer skills it was how annoying he could be if he really wanted to.

- “[Name]”, he groaned, “come to bed, just seeing you so busy gets me tired. Let’s cuddle, eh?”

- He wasn’t the most affectionate of all guys, you both knew that, it’s not that he didn’t want to be physically close with you but rather… he just didn’t feel like it. Maybe if he tempted you with hugs you’d be shocked and say yes?

- “Mhm, just a sec.” You don’t even look behind you when you speak, much to his dismay.

- “Come on! Don’t you want to be close with your boyfriend? It’ll be our first time sharing a bed! We’ll be close- you could be the small spoon or the big spoon I don’t care!”

- “Sou, please- I love you, but can you please just shut up for a second?”

- “Don’t be so cold!” He groaned, “Don’t you just want to, ya’ know~, spend some time with your boyfriend!”

- “I am spending time with you… now please just be quiet.”

- Sou was starting to get on your nerves with his endless chatter, so in return- you continued typing (quite aggressively).

- He went on for almost an hour, offering you hugs and kisses- basically anything as long as you stopped working and just went to bed. The more he tried convincing you with offers the more needy he grew, damn; he really, really wanted to cuddle you to sleep right now.

- You looked tired, your posture only worsening. Enough is enough, Hiyori thought, so he stood up and walked behind you and tapped your shoulder to get your attention.

- “Sou, I told you-!”

- Your words are cut short by him closing the laptop and grabbing your hand, leading you to bed with him.

- “Stop complaining, you’re going to work yourself to the bone.” He mutters, “and honestly? I don’t feel like dating a skeleton.”

- “Tch! Just let me finish this-!”

- “You said that like half an hour ago.” He says, he looks at you with worried eyes and you halt, “Don’t you know how late it is?” You look at the clock in your room; 2AM. You’d been working nonstop since midday…

- “Take your shoes off, we’re going to sleep- now.” He instructed you and you obliged, slowly blinking trying to adjust to the less intense light from the room as you slip off your shoes and get ready for bed.

- It was late… and your bed was looking more and more appealing. You finished taking your socks off and glance at your laptop. Once you’re done, you look down to meet teal-eyes looking at you expectantly. He pats the mattress, motioning you to lay beside him and, once again, you do. You’d scold him about shutting the laptop tomorrow… geez, had you been this tired a few minutes ago.

- A yawn escapes your mouth and Sou laughs; “I told you- you were tired.”

- He throws an arm around you, pulling you closer to him. Your face is pulled near his chest and he holds you like that for a while.

- You both say nothing as you rest, your head above his heart allowed you to be lulled into an even deeper rest. His hands rest on your back, his finger drumming as if he was typing away and you smile at the nonsensical rhythm.

- “You know, I didn’t really think cuddling with you would be this nice.” He comments, breaking the silence and earning a shove from you.

- “Screw you, Hiyori.” You laugh, “You're not so bad yourself.”

- The room is dark, the lights off, only your breaths can be heard. You take off his beanie, he only grumbles in response, so you could run your fingers through his hair.

- He giggles slightly, earning a tired smile from you. You wonder how different your relationship would be outside of the death game. There were times you forget you’re in constant danger, in moments like these- where you’re alone and calm, with Sou, it’s so easy to let your guard down, to forget about the severity of it all. You yawn once more, damn; you were tired.

- “You can sleep,” Sou mumbles, his voice rough with fatigue, “‘m gonna… sleep too”

- “Good night, Sou,” you peck his cheeks and, even in the dark light, you can see a slight blush glowing from his cheeks.

[bffsoobin]

Just One Day

↳ being the extraordinary Choi Yeonjun’s ordinary ex girlfriend had begun to feel like nothing more than a fun fact the longer you two had been apart. He had gone to Korea to chase his dream, and you had all but forgotten about the way he made you feel. When Yeonjun calls and explains he’ll be back for a day, do you go for it?

➤ fluff, angst, smut, idol!yeonjun x ex girlfriend!reader

Word count: 5,313

Requested?: yes

Warnings: This includes (badly written) mature content! Please do not read between the illustrated borders if you’re under 18 or uncomfortable! Smut warnings include: unprotected sex (don’t do it!), some dirty talk, slight male masturbation. General warnings include:swearing, awkwardness, slight pining, self doubt, mentions of crying/heartbreak, Yeonjun is a sly little shit, Feelings, me not editing or proof reading, me not keeping a very good time line for the story (how long ago did they date? How long were they together? What era are txt in when this story takes place? I didn’t bother to specify so feel free to let your mind run wild)

•:•.•:•.•:•:•:•:•:•:•:•☾☼☽•:•.•:•.•:•:•:•:•:•:•:••:•.•

It felt weird seeing the Snapchat memory pop up. A younger you smiled back through the screen, hair messy from the wind. Even weirder is the sight of a younger Choi Yeonjun, cheek pressed right against yours and a wide smile taking over his face. You hadn’t forgotten him, there was no way you could, but you had certainly forgotten this day. This date. The two of you had spent the day at an amusement park, skin turning red under the sun as you rode every attraction the park had to offer. As you clicked through the memory, you found a video you took of him dancing next to the picnic table the two of you ate overpriced fries and pizza on. The sound of your own laugh made you smile. You had really been so happy. So many happy memories with Yeonjun cropped up in your mind. All of the movie nights, walks along the lake, lunches and mini golf dates flooded you.

With the happy memories also came the hurt. The countdown to the day he had to leave for Korea, knowing nothing would ever be the same again. You had blocked out so many bad things, but one you could never forget was the night before he left. Since he was leaving so early in the morning, you had come to sleep over so you could be sure not to miss saying goodbye. As the night fell, you clutched onto his shirt and begged him not to forget you. It was pathetic how much you sniffled and sobbed into the thin fabric and pleaded with any entity listening to keep Yeonjun in your life. He had cried too, although you never noticed. The sound of your sobbing consumed his senses as the two of you laid down in his bed and he knew he could do nothing but hold you until you fell asleep. When the heaving and shaking stopped, he looked down on your swollen, tear streaked face and began shaking with his own silent sobs. He loved you. You loved him. But that love wasn’t enough to keep the two of you together in the way you wished. Yeonjun didn’t sleep that night. Instead, he watched you sleep and pretended everything was okay. Pretended he wasn’t leaving you behind minutes after sunrise. 

That night is one of your very worst memories. You threw your phone to the side, rubbing your hands over your face to reduce some of the weight laying on your shoulders. A hot shower was definitely in order to relieve some tension in your muscles.

Your worries washed down the drain with the scalding water. With a clearer mind you were able to push the sad memories of years past back to the dark corner of your mind where you left them originally. The rest of your day was normal, save for the fact that you felt as if the selfie of you and Yeonjun you had seen earlier was permanently tattooed behind your eyelids. At every spare moment you had you were thinking of him. The Yeonjun you had fallen in love with way before he had millions of other people following his every move. You had neglected to keep up with his actions many months ago when you decided that there was no point in mulling over a guy who would never come back to you.

And given the general lack of interest of kpop harbored by your family and friends; it wasn’t hard for you to reduce Yeonjun to nothing more than a boyfriend who had to move far away. Most of the people in your life now didn’t even know about the years old relationship, anyway. You had decided it was much better that way.

Your day was boring, to be totally honest. You had dedicated the day to cleaning, but your small apartment needed less attention than you originally thought. By 6:30pm, you had already made and eaten dinner and started yourself on a marathon of Hunger Games movies. Right in the middle of Katniss’ adventures in the 74th games; your phone began to vibrate against your thigh with a phone call. The number came up as unknown, and you didn’t recognize the area code as a local one so you let the call drop. Katniss was mourning the death of Rue when your phone vibrated again. This time you saw a voicemail from the mystery number. You were confused. A little bit annoyed at the intrusion, but mostly really confused. Usually scam callers didn’t leave messages, and everyone else that was important to your life was in your phone as a contact.

What the hell, you thought. Just listen to the voicemail and see who it's from, you can always delete the message and block the number later. Disregarding Katniss’ heavy breathing, you clicked on the notification and pressed your phone to your ear. There were a few seconds of silence and some shuffling that made you think it was an accidental butt dial to a very wrong number until a clear voice broke through.

“Hey, Y/N. I know this is super weird but-“ you dropped your phone out of your hand as if it had bitten you. You knew that voice. Yeonjun. What the fuck? With your phone left forgotten on the couch you nervously walked around your apartment. What did he want? How did he get your number? Why was he calling you?

After some self convincing and a cold glass of water, you decided you would get all your answers if you’d just finish listening to the damn voicemail. This time, you listened closer and in the silence of the beginning you could hear some faint Korean that made your blood run cold. This was for real. Yeonjun’s voice crackled through the phone again.

“I’m, uh, in the US right now. LA, actually. We just landed like an hour ago and I though of you- is that weird?” He cleared his throat, “I have a day off tomorrow and I was wondering if you’d want to meet up? If you don’t, it’s okay.” A heavy sigh and some more shouting of Korean in the back. “But if you do, we can meet at 10am at that breakfast place you like? I looked it up, the one between the library and the corner market we used to go to? Okay. That’s it. Um, bye.” Even after the end of the message you kept your phone pressed to your ear, in total disbelief of what you’d just heard.

Numbly, you unpaused the movie although none of the horrors of the Games stirred you like normal. The only thing you could focus on was whether or not you should go meet Yeonjun in the morning. What did you have to lose? Other than a little pride if he stood you up or something of the sort, you couldn’t think of much. You could easily catch an Uber there in the morning. But would it be weird? You knew the other members would be with him, but how much did they know? Your nerves made you queasy. The option of not going at all seemed more and more appealing with every passing moment.

You played the movie again, watching but not processing any of the presented images. You wanted to talk this out with someone, but no one really knew about your time with Yeonjun and the situation was way too far fetched to be boiled down to hypotheticals for a friend. Twenty minutes must have passed with you mulling every little detail over in your head. The movie had ended without your knowledge but it didn’t matter anyway. You were already in your bedroom, computer open to YouTube. Skimming your fingers over the keys, you gave the universe time to stop you. To make someone knock on your door, or your mom to call you, or for the power to go out; but nothing of the sort happened. You typed in “tomorrow x together” and shut your eyes as if it would change anything.

Pages of videos- both official and fan made beckoned you down a dangerous rabbit hole. One where you began to miss Yeonjun all over again. He had grown a lot since the last time you had seen him. He was taller, broader. HIs jaw was much more defined and he had taken to wearing jewelry all the time. Side effects of becoming an idol, you supposed. None of those details hurt more than the fact that his personality seemed unchanged. Amplified, yes; but he was still the same goofy, clingy and heartfelt boy you had fallen in love with years ago. You watched the way he interacted with the other members and you felt your heart swell with joy. Some small part of you was worried that pressure and fame would change him but you were amazed to see that was not the case.

Autoplay took it upon itself to load up the next video for you. You felt oddly warm at the idea of seeing even more content; this time through the lense of an adoring fan. A title flashed across the screen in a handwritten font: “Best of Choi Yeonjun”. Edited video clips of him singing, dancing and playing around with the other group members flashed before your eyes. You couldn’t help but lull yourself into a state of comfort upon seeing and hearing him so much. In the back of your mind, you knew you had already silently decided on meeting him tomorrow. You closed your laptop with a renewed excitement before you began to get ready for bed.

When you woke up there was still an hour before your alarm was even set to go off. Despite the early hour you were wide awake as if your nerves had been connected to a live wire pumping electricity through you. There was no grogginess in your eyes, and if it wasn’t for the jumble of nerves in your gut you could have believed you were going to have a perfect day. Your mind stalled at the reality of facing Yeonjun in just mere hours. You think you dreamed about him last night; in some weird, hazy fashion where you can’t remember much other than his presence. Vague details swarmed through your mind throughout the entire duration of your morning routine. Even though you had just showered the night before, you took another one to pass the extra time and take the opportunity to shave as well as you could in the dim light of your bathroom. You were oddly aware of just how quickly your heart was beating through the whole process. The drumming sound in your ears became second nature by the time you stood in front of your closet.

Suddenly, the extra hour your body had subconsciously given you became a blessing as you decided that you had absolutely nothing to wear. The outfit you had planned during your shower looked much worse in real life than you ever would have thought. It was almost as if the open drawers were mocking you, laughing about the fact that you were so nervous about meeting Yeonjun again that you couldn’t even pick out an outfit. You shuffled through all of your hangers multiple times, slipped different dresses and pairs of jeans on until you settled on something that you decided would be good enough- especially with the time of 9:10 am glaring back at you. With the consideration of morning traffic, you needed to be out of your apartment as soon as you possibly could. It was sort of embarrassing how sweaty your palms were as you locked up your apartment door and requested an Uber. Luckily your driver came so fast that you didn’t really have time to dwell on just what you were about to do. Even the ride there gave you no time to overthink, as your friendly driver made polite conversation that you felt bad for slacking on.

You stepped out onto the sidewalk after stalling for as long as you possibly could. The breakfast spot was surprisingly unpopulated compared to the rest of the stores, but just as quaint and adorable as you always remembered. Yeonjun used to live over this way so the two of you frequented the family owned restaurant so much that all of the servers knew your order. Your heart felt as if it was permanently stuck in your throat with the knowledge that Yeonjun was just steps away from you. A few bystanders eyed you suspiciously as you tried to work up the courage to enter the building. Fuck it, you thought. There was no way to avoid this any longer.

The hostess working the front stand seemed to notice your nervous disposition. “Can I help you? Just one?” Suddenly the back of your neck felt warm under her questioning.

“Uhm actually, I’m supposed to be meeting someone here.” The hostess nodded politely.

“Oh, can I ask your name? A man here said he was waiting for a girl to come meet him,” she shuffled a menu around on her podium.

“I’m Y/N,’ you supplied meekly. The hostess’ face lit up as she waved to you to follow her further into the restaurant. The layout was familiar even though the decor had evolved over the last few years. At a corner booth sat Yeonjun with his fluffy hair, intently examining the menu as you approached. The hostess announced your arrival and left in the blink of an eye.

“Yeonjun,” you whispered, totally caught off guard by the sight of him actually in front of you. He rushed out of the booth seat and immediately squished you into a tight hug.

“Oh my god,” he laughed, pulling back to examine you once again before you both sat down on the vinyl seats. “I don’t know what to say, I-” he rubbed his hands over his face, “I wasn’t sure you were going to come.” You just stared at him for a second, waiting for the cogs in your brain to start up again.

“I wasn’t sure I was going to come either. But I’m glad I did. I just saw old pictures of us from when we were dating.” It felt so foreign to hear that phrase coming out of your mouth that you almost flinched. Yeonjun’s face softened and he opened his mouth to speak just as your waiter sidled up to the table. He took your orders, and you couldn’t help but realize that you had both ordered your regulars from years ago. Yeonjun picked at his nailbeds for a second. There was so much to talk about that your mind could not settle on a single thing.

“I just wanted to say,” Yeonjun’s voice startled you, “that I’ve missed you a lot. I feel awful about the way we left it, and as soon as I heard we were coming back to the US I had to try and make time to meet you. Unfortunately I only have this one day off so I was hoping you would want to see me too,” he couldn’t contain the smile that grew on his face; the one that hadn’t changed since the last time you ever saw him.

“Of course I wanted to see you, Junnie,” the nickname was automatic and made him crinkle his eyes up happily, “I’ve missed you too.”

It was almost unbelievable how easy it was to fall back into conversation with him. The food was just as good as you always remembered, but it paled totally in comparison to the colorful stories the two of you traded. His were-of course- much more riveting and star studded than yours could ever hope to be. He told you tales of everything from his friends to his late nights practicing, to all of the places he had traveled since going into the company. All you had to offer were some stories of your adventures with family and friends but Yeonjun still listened with rapt attention. The flow of conversation was just as easy as you always remembered it to be. Even through mouthfuls of your breakfast you were having a better time with Yeonjun than you had with anyone else in months.

The waiter came to clear your plates during a natural lull in your conversation and suddenly the magical spell casted on the two of you seemed to lift. Yeonjun’s face was flushed red and you became extremely interested in your cuticles.

“I’ll pay for our food,” he reached for the check that had been placed face down on the table as you scoffed.

“No, I can pay for myself, it’s fine,” you held your hand out expectantly but he never handed over the receipt. Yeonjun’s eyes narrowed.

“No, absolutely not. I’m the one who asked you to meet me here out of the blue after not seeing you for years. And it’s just one day that I’m here. The very least I can do is pay for your meal, Y/N. Don’t you remember what it’s like to have a guy treating you?” He waved down the waiter and handed over the check along with a credit card.

“Well to be fair, I haven’t really had a guy ‘treat me’ in a while,” you grumbled at him, “but that’s an unfair way to guilt me into letting you buy my food.” You were pouting now, you knew. Yeonjun cooed at your change in behavior.

“Too bad. I want to be your complimentary boyfriend for the day. So I’m paying. And you get to pick the next place we go.” There was no way you could argue with him although the thought of him being your “boyfriend” again made your brain set off alarms.

“Okay, Junnie. Just remember you dug your own grave.”

Following breakfast, you drug him into your favorite boutique where the two of you had your own coming of age movie style try on in the dressing rooms. You hated to admit just how well Yeonjun had pulled off every single outfit he put on. Even the bright green button up and cheetah print bucket hat you had picked as a joke looked amazing on him. It was hard to miss the way he had bulked up, arms bulging against the fabric of the shirt as he twisted around in front of the mirror to admire himself. Mentally you slapped yourself. No drooling allowed, Y/N. This was no longer the Yeonjun who was your first love. This Yeonjun was famous and in the eyes of the public, living halfway across the world. There was no way he still thought about you the same way you thought of him.

He had noticed your lapse in behavior and chalked it up to him actually enjoying your prank outfits.

“Awe, it’s okay Y/N. We can go to Goodwill and you can find me something really awful to try on. I promise I’ll look hideous,” he placed a comforting hand on your shoulder and guided you towards the cashier with a grin so he could buy the last two items you ever thought he would enjoy. You pushed through your slowly souring mood to dutifully follow Yeonjun to another small shop nearby. Your thoughts were beginning to wander farther and farther until you completely tuned his voice out of your head. A hand ruffling up your hair ended your daydreaming. You grabbed Yeonjun’s hand and yanked it away.

“Leave me alone,” your tone was flatter than you wanted him to hear. His face instantly crumpled in confusion before turning serious. You could tell he wanted to say something to you but the atmosphere of the store was just not right. Pop music was piped through the speakers and you could hear the faint hum of the workers talking to one another. Without another word, Yeonjun guided you out of the store and back out to the front of the store.

“I think we should talk in private. Would you feel comfortable if we went back to your apartment?” Your heart swelled at his consideration of your comfort.

Just one slightly awkward Uber ride later, you were letting Yeonjun into your apartment. Suddenly you were worried about the fact that your bed wasn’t made and that you hadn’t dusted in way too long. Of course he didn’t notice, but as he sat down on your couch you couldn’t help but remember the pizza sauce stain on one of the cushions that you had hidden with a well placed throw pillow.

“C’mon, sit down. This is your home and you’re acting more awkward than I am,” he patted the cushion beside him but you chose to leave an intentional space between you, intimidated by the way he spread his legs out in front of him. “What happened?” His voice was soft and gentle, just the way you remember it from all your late nights and early mornings together.

You sighed. “It’s just weird. You being here, I mean. Before, I just saw you as a boy like the same way I was just a girl. Now I’m still just a girl but you’re,” you struggled for the words, “now you’re an it boy. But you still had my number in your phone. You still chose to use your day off to walk around with me! I guess I just don’t know why.” He was silent, watching you with slightly pouted lips and wide eyes.

“Oh,” your eyes crinkled in shock. Oh? That’s all he had to say? Before you had time to fume, he continued; “I thought it was pretty obvious. I still like you. A ton. Leaving you was one of the hardest things I’ve ever had to do. You’ve never been just a girl to me, Y/N. I chose to come see you on my day off because I couldn’t bare the thought of being in your city with free time and not at least trying to make you understand.” You could feel yourself shrinking under his intense gaze.

“Understand what?” you whispered. He leaned closer, eliminating the gap you had created between the two of you. Just inches from your face, you could clearly see the way his sparkling eyes shifted between your own eyes and your lips several times. You knew he was giving you an out. Time to back away and tell him no. But you didn’t want an out. His lips were chapped but just as full as you had always remembered them to be. The first kiss was short and sweet, just a little testing peck as the initial spark lit a larger, raging fire inside of you.

He wasted no time going in for a second kiss, this one much longer and slower and very reminiscent of what you used to share with him. It felt as if he was pulling all of the air from your lungs and replacing it with his own. You felt your dormant feelings leak from the inside out in such a rush that you had to push him away from you. Chest heaving, you laid your head against the solid muscle of his chest. Your eyes burned with unshed tears and all of the thoughts you desperately wanted to spill. Yeonjun stroked your hair and said nothing as you quietly collected yourself.

“It’s been so long. How do you still make me want you so bad?” Yeonjun laughed in a tone that bordered on remorseful.

“Guess I’m magic,” his lips descended on yours again, this time much needier as his hands began to roam all over your body. He kept a strong grip on your hips before sliding a hand up the front of your shirt. You gasped at the feeling.

“Are you okay? I can stop if-“ you shook your head rapidly and wrapped your hand around his wrist to guide him farther up your shirt, resting over your bra.

“I’m fine, please touch me.” He pushed you down against your couch and pressed his weight between your spread legs. Every part of you was on edge, hyper aware of every single movement that Yeonjun made. Mouthing at your neck, using both hands to squeeze at your breasts, the subtle rock of his hips against your center. Jolts of pleasure wracked through you.

“You’re so beautiful. So much more perfect than I even remembered,” Yeonjun stripped your shirt over your head and traced his fingers down your sides. You shivered as he worked his hands behind your back to fumble with the clasp of your bra. You couldn’t help but snort at the scrunched up face of concentration that melted away his dominant facade.

“Need some help?” Trying to bite back your laughter only worked for so long before you turned into a giggly mess under him. He tipped his head back and let out a whine that made your stomach stir in arousal given your situation.

“Don’t laugh, it’s been a long time,” his voice was thicker, deeper than it had been for the rest of the day and only served as a reminder of the tell tale bulge pressed against your inner thigh. Unclasping your own bra was a breeze, but you allowed Yeonjun the pleasure of actually pulling it away from your body. Before you had time to cover yourself up, the boy above you was diving down to press kisses on each breast, paying special attention to your nipples until you were squirming uncontrollably under his weight. He got the message and made short work of your jeans and panties.

“Hold on,” he groaned at the sight of you while he struggled to get off of the couch and strip himself down as quick as possible. He had no shame, and the way you were laying gave you a perfect view of all of the exposed skin. His well built arms and torso flexed underneath his virtually flawless skin. He shucked off his jeans and boxers in one go before eagerly climbing back on top of you. You were at a loss for words at the sight of his body but luckily Yeonjun didn’t mind your silence. He used it to his advantage as he rubbed circles into the meat of your thighs teasingly.

“Jun,” your hips canted upwards and caught on the head of his cock, “please.” You stuck out your bottom lip in a pout and that seemed to break his resolve instantly.

“Okay, fuck. I can’t resist you anymore princess,” he grunted his understanding and weaved his fingers through yours on either side of your head. Slowly, he pushed into you. He bit back moans the whole time, occasionally rocking his hips against you to stimulate your clit as well as he could. Your back arched off of the couch; neck bent at an awkward angle although it was the least of your worries as Yeonjun’s cock was fully sheathed inside of you. Your body was in overdrive; impossibly warm and sensitive even at the smallest roll of his hips.

Instantly you were a needy mess and could only focus on the feeling of Yeonjun’s skin against yours. His name fell from your lips like a prayer as he pinned you down and began to thrust with the kind of intensity you weren’t expecting. Hard thrusts shifted your body underneath his and forced sounds you never heard yourself make from your throat. Yeonjun was just as loud, grunting and moaning at every snap of his hips.

With a slight shift of his weight, he was laying on top of you, totally encasing your body in his presence and burying his nose in the sensitive skin of your shoulder. The new angle forced him even deeper into you and a new wave of pleasure rolled through you. Your inner walls contracted around Yeonjun’s cock as a result and his hips stuttered at the feeling.

“Oh, do that again,” he commanded before biting into the soft skin behind your ear. You followed his orders easily and felt his cock twitch as a reward.

“Fuck, I’m close already, you’re so hot. You made me like this. Shit, princess. I missed you so much,” his thrusts became impossibly faster and deeper, bringing you just moments away from the feeling you were so desperately chasing.

“Jun,” your voice was high and needy, “I need more, I need more,” your words melted into incoherence but he still got the message and dislodged one of his hands from your shared grip to harshly rub at your clit. The touch was absolutely electric. Your eyes rolled back in your head and it only took a few more thrusts from Yeonjun before your vision turned white. You knew you were yelling and whining pathetically but you couldn’t get yourself to stop as he continued drilling into you to prolong your high and chase his own.

As soon as you began to calm down, Yeonjun pulled out. Although you felt painfully empty, your attention shifted immediately to the sight of him working a hand over his cock. He hadn’t given you the time to marvel at him earlier, so you took the opportunity to wonder at the perfect size and curve of his reddened cock, glistening with the sheen of your release. Yeonjun’s voice heightened the faster he moved his hand; swirling his thumb around the tip shakily before he finally released in hot spurts across your body. The sounds he made as he came all over your stomach and chest were nothing short of heavenly. Even through his ragged breaths he called out to you, chanting praise that made your stomach turn in more ways than one.

Despite the messy state of your skin, Yeonjun pulled you upwards and insisted on wrapping you up in a hug. You felt a little disgusted at all the fluids involved but said nothing. The two of you hadn’t really hugged since the day he left. He placed a kiss on your forehead and there was no denying just how tender the action was, especially following the spontaneous sex the two of you had just finished.

“I wasn’t lying, you know. I do like you. I’ve never stopped liking you. I didn’t just say that to have sex with you, I hope you know that. I would say I even love you but…” his voice was raspy from overuse. You stared into his eyes, trying to read the odd mix of emotions swirling in his irises.

“It’s okay, Jun. I know you can’t...with work and everything,” you traced patterns on his bare chest, “I like you too. Even though we’ve found ourselves in a super weird spot here. And I’m happy we, ya know.” Your face was burning at the absurdity of being shy about it when a mere three minutes ago you were begging for him. “And I love that we’re cuddling and everything, and it’s a great moment for us, but I’m cold and sticky,” your nose scrunched involuntarily at the confession. Yeonjun couldn’t hold back the loud laugh that brought you back to every other moment you’d heard it before.

“Guess those things are my fault, huh?” Yeonjun teased, leaning down to place a light kiss onto your nose. You feigned upset but he didn’t buy it. Instead, he wiggled his way off of the couch. You tried your best not to stare at his towering form as you took the hand he held out to you.

“Shower?” He questioned, arching a perfectly groomed eyebrow at you as you stood to your full height. For a second you hesitated, knowing the fondness growing in your heart would only hurt you even more in just a few hours. But you had him for just one day. Why not make the most of it?

[sometimesiwrite]

The Way It Is

Prompt: Fake Dating

Pairing: Lambert & Essi Other Characters: Julian (Jaskier), Eskel/Geralt

Rating: Teen Content Warnings: No Archive Warnings; platonic/queerplatonic dynamics; pressure to engage sexually; coarse language; alcohol/intoxication; modern AU.

Summary: When Essi and Lambert are setup on a blind date, they don’t expect to get along as well as they do. However, when they decide to keep their relationship platonic and non-romantic, they realize they might face some uncomfortable pressure. For the sake of simplicity, they decide to tell people they’re dating, but is it sustainable? 

@witcher-rarepair-summer-bingo​

Essi fidgeted with the bent corner of her cafe menu, looking around at the various styles of local artworks hanging on the walls. She was early by about ten minutes, but that didn’t stop her from checking the pearlescent dial of her watch every thirty seconds. Finally, the bell above the door tinkled and a man walked in. Essi could tell from the way he was looking around that he was there to meet someone—her. The only other people sitting alone in the cafe were working on laptops and tablets; no one else waiting for a date. And this man was most certainly looking for one. 

He was handsome in a ruffled sort of way, though he’d clearly put in a bit of effort. His black casual dress shirt and slim light-wash jeans fit his lean frame impeccably, and a subtle quantity of mousse was clearly doing its best to tame his short, scruffy brown hair. Even his bristly beard appeared to have been trimmed recently. Though there was nothing particularly remarkable about his clothing, there was something striking about the way he carried himself, a devil-may-care sort of presence that Essi appreciated. For a blind date, she thought, it certainly could be worse. Allegedly, they knew each other, at least based on his abruptly out-of-the-blue text, and the closer she looked, the more her memory of him crystalized. 

A loud ping! emitted from Essi’s phone and the man looked up from his own cellular device, clearly having just texted. 

“Uh, Essi? Essi Daven, right?” He took a step towards her and leaned in, pointing to his phone screen. 

“Yes,” Essi stood to shake his hand, “hi.”

“Nice to see you again. Lambert.”

They sat down awkwardly, both struggling to find the will for smalltalk. 

“So…” Lambert had become keenly interested in a black-and-white digital photograph behind Essi’s shoulder.

“Listen,” Essi could feel the words start to tumble out of her mouth, and it was too late to do anything about it. Lambert raised an eyebrow,  “I don’t really know how to say this, so I’m just going to be honest and probably regret it later: I don’t really do this. Dating. I find it strange and uncomfortable and if I’m perfectly honest I think I’d rather die.” She didn’t cringe apologetically, which would have been the expected behaviour to accompany an outpouring of disinterest. Instead she stared at him, wide-eyed, lips slightly pursed as a muscle in her neck twitched, waiting for his response.

Lambert laughed. Genuinely laughed—a joyful release of tension and dread, “Oh, thank Fuck!” Essi blinked in pleasant surprise and watched as Lambert began to relax.

“Excuse me?” Her startlingly blue eyes widened in amusement. 

“No, no, I just mean—I would absolutely and one-hundred percent, without a doubt, rather die in a hole than date,” Lambert slotted the edge of the menu under his fingernails and let his eyes wander a little more freely around the cafe. 

“So then… why?” 

Hm. Direct, frank, amusing lack of filter… the memories were starting to come back from what limited, heavily inebriated, time they’d spent together.

There was something about the straightforwardness of this endearingly odd woman that made Lambert feel infinitely more comfortable. Usually, any kind of interaction with the potential of building mutual interest made him feel like he was playing a game he didn’t know the rules to. The signals, the code words that never meant what they said: having sex on the first date means you’re a slut; not having sex on the third date means you’re a prude; grabbing coffee means this; having dinner means that; if they your arm but don’t invite you up, it means that they’re actually a KGB operative and need to give you the launch codes for a super secret missile...

Fuck that, we have words for a reason. Say what you mean and don’t waste my time. For that reason alone, Essi was already scoring quite well in Lambert’s books. 

He shrugged, “You somehow remembered me from the KM Christmas party almost six months ago, and still asked for my number. I figure that at least deserves a coffee and a conversation.”

Essi was bewildered, “I didn’t ask for your number, you texted me.”

Lambert shook his head, “Impossible. No offense, but I absolutely guarantee you I did not.” He produced their short text exchange and scrolled to the top of their conversation: 

Hi, is this Lambert? From the KM Christmas party? 

You might not remember me, we got talking about 

the political situation in Kashmir after about…

Too many drinks. Eeep! 

Anyway, I’d love to get a coffee sometime, if 

you’re interested. 

Sorry, this is Essi Daven. 

You called me Goldilocks at one point and 

seemed amused XD 

Hope you’re well! 

Essi snatched Lambert’s phone, shocked and slightly outraged as she reached for her own device, opening her thread with Lambert. The text at the top was not from her, but from the man across from her: 

Yeah, hi, this is 

Lambert-from-the-KM-Christmas-party. 

As it happens, I remember you and our 

conversation quite well. Not many folks 

happily get into drunken political discussions

You know what, I wouldn’t mind grabbing a 

coffee. 

Let me know if you’re free in the next couple 

weeks! 

Lambert gestured emphatically at Essi’s phone screen, “In what world is this an acceptable way to ask someone out?! I wouldn’t have said yes to that!”

“I don’t know,” Essi fired back, “It was straightforward! I found it charming, okay? Is that a crime?”

“No, but I have some serious concerns about your taste in men.”

“Like you’re in such a fine position to judge after the hollow, paltry invitation you accepted—which I absolutely did not write, by the way. I want to make that perfectly clear.”

“Alright, alright, cool your jets, we’ve got bigger fish to fry.” Lambert narrowed his eyes as he passed Essi’s phone back to her, “You didn't fire the first shot, so who texted me from your phone and cleared the history?”

Essi nibbled the inside of her cheek, “I can think of a few.”

“Okay, next question,” Lambert pocketed his phone, “who added you to my contacts before you texted. Because we did not exchange numbers six months ago, but your name was already there when I received it.”

Essi shrugged, “Who has access to your phone?”

“I dunno. Really just Eskel and Geralt and neither of them would—”

“Geralt.”

“Why him?”

Essi’s bright blue eyes turned steely and murderous, “Julian… They’re working together.”

“Wait, wait, wait. Are you telling me that Geralt the-last-thing-I-need Rivia and Julian Alfred these-aren't-my-pants Pankratz think we're so helplessly undateable that they decided to secretly set us up?” 

“Eskel doesn’t know me that well; he wouldn’t try to set you up with someone he hadn’t vetted. Who did you talk to first when you got that text from me?”

Lambert’s eyes widened, “Holy shit, they’re working together.”

Essi nodded, a flood of embarrassment warming her cheeks. “Sorry to waste your time. You’re very nice but, um, I should just…” she got up to leave.

“Wh-hey, hold up. I mean, if you wanna go, go, that's fine, but there's something you might want to know first.”

Essi tossed her yellow bangs out of her eyes, “Oh? What's that?”

“This,” Lambert produced an Amex credit card from his breast pocket, “is Geralt's.” The cheeky glint in his eyes was a very convincing argument.

“Fine then. Coffee and a conversation.” 

The coffee was hot and decent, and the conversation meandered through the usual topics of music, movies, and television, but also dipped into deeper waters as they grew more comfortable with each other’s company. Of course, it didn’t hurt that neither of them had any stakes in the outcome of this “date”. It made it easier to be frank and open, which in turn led to them quickly enjoying their time together. So much so that coffee turned into lunch, which turned into a long walk in the pleasant weather, which finally landed them outside Essi’s apartment, just around dinner time. 

“I have to say, this was actually a pleasant encounter,” she said, turning to face him with a characteristic toss of her bangs. 

“Yeah, who’d’ve thought two people forced together by meddling friends would actually find it enjoyable?” 

“In light of that,” Essi squared her shoulders and found Lambert’s hazel-brown eyes, “I think it’s fair to say I want to see you again.”

He cringed regretfully and scratched the back of his head, “Ahh, yeah, so… I don’t know if that’s really--”

“Oh, relax,” Essi smirked with a casual touch to Lambert’s forearm. “I don't mean like that. I just mean--you're interesting and fun and, well I don't have many close friends and I feel like we connected well today.”

“Well…”

“I'll make it even simpler: I absolutely, one-hundred percent, am not interested in dating you.”

“Easy there, you know I love it when people get all straightforward with me.” 

“I mean it, I just want to be friends,” she toyed back, trying her best to look sultry. It kind of worked.

Lambert bit his lower lip in mock arousal, “Mmm, oh yeah...”

She swayed her shoulders forward and back, doing her best to emulate the seductive actresses and models of the 1950s, “I want to Netflix and chill with a documentary about Soviet propaganda.”

Her last comment prompted a playfully stern look from her companion, “Careful now, you’re wading into actual turn-on territory.” 

“You're such a weirdo,” Essi chuckled, giving him an endeared shove. “Seriously, though, would you like to do this again? Friends?” 

He nodded sincerely, “Yeah, I think I'd really like that. Just one problem, though.”

“If we claim not to be interested in each other but keep hanging out we’ll never hear the end of it?” 

“Bingo.” 

Essi hummed thoughtfully and nibbled the inside of her bottom lip, “Well… we could always… pretend?” 

***

“Sounds like you two are hitting it off. I’m glad. I know Essi’s been feeling a little isolated between work and being new to the city.” Geralt closed the fridge with his foot and headed towards the sofa, popcorn in one hand, three beers in the other. “I’ll take my card back, by the way.” 

Lambert reluctantly handed the Amex back in exchange for a beer and perched on the arm of the sofa. “She’s really something. We’re, uh—yeah, hitting it off is a good word.”

And hitting it off, they were. The last ten days since their first “date” had been more enjoyable than all the dates he’d had in the last year combined. Essi was a fantastic companion: sharp, witty, kind, took no bullshit… They had done absolutely nothing but hang out, and no one had pried them for many details about the nature of their relationship. As far as their friend group was concerned, they were simply dating in the way that most adults dated. This also meant more time to themselves without unwanted interruptions (namely Julian barging in with his spare key to gossip about whatever fires were currently alight on twitter). The first night Lambert had been over, it took Julian all of five minutes to “grab something from the fridge” before parting with a knowing wink. 

To her credit and imagination, Essi had expertly fielded her cousin’s initial barrage of questions when she first announced their “involvement.” It wasn’t that she didn’t like her cousin, Essi adored Julian, but she was also the first to admit that the man had no boundaries. What he lacked in that arena, he certainly made up for with opinions, which he was always more than happy to bestow on his younger cousin—usually dating advice, almost always unsolicited. Lambert had a much easier time convincing his side that he and Essi were taking it easy to see where things went. Between Eskel being a consummate gentleman and Geralt having his own Delicate Sensibilities, neither of them had demanded any details. 

“As long as you’re both happy and everything’s healthy, that’s all that matters,” Geralt’s partner reiterated, reaching into the bowl on Geralt’s lap. 

“Jesus, Eskel, you sound like my Nonna.”

“That's no way to talk to your father,” Geralt smirked into his hand of popcorn

“You're no better,” Lambert took a swig from his beer, lips popping as he lowered the bottle. “I swear, you've turned into a couple of mother hens since you two got together. Quit fussing and watch the game.” 

Geralt put his arm around Eskel’s shoulders, “We have gotten a little soft haven’t we?”

Eskel huffed out a laugh, “Probably. Hey, Lambert, don't fuck it up or I'll kick your ass into next week.” 

“Thank you. See? Was that so hard?” 

“Eh,” Eskel shrugged, helping himself to another handful of popcorn, “I stand by my original statement. Geralt agrees.” 

“It's true,” he said between mouthfuls. “Essi’s a good woman. Smart, talented, kind, attractive.” 

Eskel cleared his throat.

“Eskel, she is, it's just a statement of fact it doesn't mean that she doesn’t have other…”

“I know it doesn't but I still think you could bear to be a little more…”

“Funny thing,” Lambert interrupted, “I still can’t figure out how this smart, talented, kind, attractive woman’s number programmed itself into my phone. Because I may have been drunk the night we first met, but I have never in my life forgotten a successful number grab. Fess up, fellas. Who was it?”

Eskel’s eyes widened, “Geralt, you didn’t.”  

“I… may have… helped Julian gain access to Lambert’s phone.”

“Unbelievable. The betrayal,” Lambert shook his head, eyes still on the game. “If only there was some way to square things up…”

“You charged everything to my company card, didn’t you?”

“First two dates and a fresh pair of pants. Thanks, bud.” Geralt accepted a pat on the back as Eskel began gently but sternly berating him.

Lambert shook his head, smirking as he took another swig of beer, leaving the two lovebirds to bicker amongst themselves. His hip pocket buzzed and he checked his phone: Essi. 

Next Wednesday? Pizza and a movie?  Still can't believe you haven't seen  Ocean’s Eleven. 

Yeah, okay, fine. Jeez :P 7:30 my place? I'll provide beverages. 

If by ‘beverages’ you mean watery beer…

Fuck off, I'll get the good stuff. Unless  you prefer Arbor Mist or some shit. 

*gasps* I am offended! (but also it's delicious)

*sigh* do you want me to get you some?

*turtles into hoodie* ...peach or cherry pls? 

Haha okay, fine, I'll get a bottle. Can't promise  I won't judge you forever, though ;) 

It's okay, I deserve it.  g2g, see you tomorrow! xox 

***

Lambert groaned contentedly, massaging his stomach as he sprawled back on his aging brown sofa, long legs resting habitually on the coffee table. The now-empty pizza box lay abandoned on the far edge, accompanied by four empty beer bottles, and a nearly-empty, unfavourably warm Peach Arbor Mist. The toilet flushed and Essi emerged. Her dark gold hair had long ago been pulled into a messy bun, but her indigo skinny jeans had been replaced by soft-looking grey leggings. 

Lambert shook his head in amusement as she settled back next to him on the couch, "I still can't believe you brought your own lounge pants"

"That's because I'm a genius," she quipped, crossing her legs and adjusting the height of her waistband. "Besides, when else will I have the opportunity to actually be comfortable during a date?" 

"You took your bra off, too, didn't you?" Lambert asked without missing a beat, eyes never leaving the screen. 

"Yup!" Essi confirmed, her sparkling blue eyes glinting with joy as she raised her glass to her lips.

The movie continued as the new friends settled into comfortable silence, their food-drowsy, alcohol-fuzzy states lulling them into a new level of comfortability around each other. Legs fell asleep, positions were adjusted, and shoulders leaned on as the two sought maximum comfort for minimum effort. Soon, an arm was around Essi's shoulder as she settled her cheek on a comfortable spot on Lambert's chest. 

"You good?" Lambert asked, only half-irritated at her seemingly endless search for the perfect angle. 

"I'm sorry, I thought I'd found a good spot, but..." A few more adjustments of her head and Lambert couldn't take it anymore. 

"Jesus, woman, here. Get up for a sec."

Essi sat up as Lambert rearranged himself into a sort of semi-recline with one foot on the floor so his other leg could make room for the tiny pain-in-the-ass that was taking up the rest of the couch space. At his invitation, she wriggled up to the crook of his arm and quickly settled in. Lambert hadn't really thought about what they were doing. Not when Essi had harmlessly leaned against his arm; not when their weight settled into each other; not when Lambert had put his arm around her; not even as he was rearranging to get to where they were now. It had all just... happened. Now, though, with Essi lying still, Lambert felt the weight and warmth of her body shifting gently against his, and it dawned on him that this had the potential to be, well, weird.

But the strange thing was, it didn't feel weird. He'd fucking cuddled before, but there was always a sense of holding back, a tension in his body, being on the lookout for signals from the other person to move onto the Next Step. But now, he actually felt comfortable. There wasn't anything that was supposed to happen after this. Nobody was asking anything of him, no one sending signals he could pick up on but never read properly, no sinking feelings of dread as the other person moved in for a kiss that always felt too soon. Essi was just there, breathing, content. And Lambert was relaxed.

The woman half-on top of him gave a twitch as the credits started to roll, and Lambert let out a private laugh, "Hey, Sleeping Beauty, show's over." 

Essi inhaled heavily through her nose and lifted herself up, "Hmmm?" 

"Movie's over." 

"Did I fall asleep? I'm sorry!" she sat and rubbed her eyes, taking a sip of water to rinse the stale taste from her mouth. 

"Eh, only a little." Lambert exited Netflix and tossed the remote back on to the table. "Thought you might wanna start heading home before it gets too late." 

Essi nodded in response as she grabbed the pizza box and brought it to the kitchen trash, leaving Lambert to bring the empties. 

"You going to finish this atrocity of a beverage?" Lambert waggled the near-empty wine bottle at Essi as he passed on his way to the sink. She merely scowled and shook her head, letting him pour it down the drain 'where it belonged anyway'.

Essi gathered her things and met Lambert by his front door, checking her pockets for her phone and keys one last time before putting her shoes on. 

"You okay to walk? Want me to come with?" 

It was only 10:30 on a weeknight, and she appreciated the gesture all the same, but it was fine to walk. "Thanks, though. And thank you for tonight. I really needed to get out of the house. I hope, um..." 

She trailed off, not sure how to ask. She didn't have the same physical boundaries that most others seemed to have. She was affectionate—often overly so, and it had led to more than a few misunderstandings in the past. She didn't want Lambert to feel as though she had ulterior motives when the simple fact of the matter was that she hadn't really been thinking. Between the instant relief of not actually being on a date and Lambert's easy manner all evening, she'd forgotten that most friendships didn’t generally involve that much physical contact. Would Lambert be confused now? Thinking they were onto something more than friendship? Had he been wanting more? Had she pushed past a point of no return and doomed their friendship?

She inhaled, "Were you comfortable tonight?" 

For a split second, Lambert flailed, wondering whether he’d made her uncomfortable. Fuck, she'd seemed comfortable, if anything it felt like he’d been following her lead but maybe...

"I—yeah. That was, I enjoyed that. Were... were you not—?" 

Essi smiled and Lambert relaxed again, "No, I was. I wanted to ask in case, that's all. Boundaries and all that. I'll text you when I'm home." 

Lambert opened the door and waved her off toward the elevator, "'Kay. 'Night!" 

The door clicked shut. 

Okay, alright. Fine. Did they cuddle? Yes. Did he enjoy it? Fuck yes. He absolutely didn’t care what anyone might think about how he chose to enjoy his time with other people. However, this didn’t stop him from acknowledging that he was in uncharted friendship territory. More than anything, he was worried about how Essi really felt. Of course, she had no reason not to be honest with him. But the last thing he wanted to do was play fast and loose with someone’s emotions, especially not a friend, and definitely not one as close as Essi. Time would tell. As Lambert’s head hit the pillow, the memory of her warmth and weight settled over him again, and he slept soundly for the first time in months.

***

“Yes Poppet, but have you slept together yet? Honestly, you’ve been dating for almost three weeks now, what could you possibly be waiting for?” 

Oh, I don’t know, hell to freeze over? You to mind your own business? Whichever comes first… 

“I mean, you clearly adore one another, I’ve never seen you happier. What’s there to lose?’”

Essi scoffed. 

Julian placed his hands on her shoulders, “I know it’s been a while for you, but I think you can afford to let yourself go a little, have some fun, hm? Besides, it’s better to find out sooner rather than later if you’re sexually incompatible.”

She took a deep breath, “That’s a very good point, Julian, I’ll think about that.” The dating act was starting to wear a little thin, but it was worth not having to explain to anyone that they weren’t doing exactly what it looked like they were doing. 

Julian took time to give his cousin a scrutinizing look, “Well, by the look of things it won’t be long anyway. If you spend all of your time together as tangled up as you were the other night when I came over, it’ll happen sooner rather than later. Just trust your gut, and when in doubt, a little hint never goes awry.”

Needless to say, Essi more or less ignored her cousin’s advice.

As the weeks stretched on, it became evident that they were quickly becoming what most people would consider to be more than friends. The first time they pulled the covers back and climbed into bed, each on their half of the mattress, they were aware that yet another boundary of friendship had been pushed a little farther into the grey zone. But, they woke up the next morning feeling happy, content, and refreshed, and surely there was nothing wrong with two people sharing a comfortable bed. Essi had woken up with crust in her eyes and her nightgown bunched around her waist. Lambert had woken up with morning wood and his hair a mess. Neither of them cared. People wake up in the morning, big deal. 

Still, it didn’t stop the questioning that oscillated in the background of Lambert’s mind. Was he unknowingly leading Essi on by allowing her so much closeness without a clearly defined relationship? She’d made her own disinterest clear enough on their first “date”,  but feelings change over time. What she’d told him three weeks ago might not be true anymore… 

And then there was that soft warm tingle in the middle of his chest every time she lay her head in his lap, every time he ran his fingers through her hair. He knew he wasn't in love. Not that he was an expert, but what was all that "when you know, you know" bullshit if he couldn’t trust his own feelings? He loved her, sure, but more like a... not a sister, that would be weird. He didn't know what like. Whatever. Fuck it. Eskel had said it best three weeks ago: “As long as you're happy and everything’s healthy, that’s all that matters.” Yeah, sure. We’ll stick with that.

As far as Lambert and Essi were concerned, it was what it was, and whatever it was was working… wasn’t it?

***

"Fuckin' finally!" 

The door to Essi's apartment clicked closed as the tenant wilted against it, emitting an exhausted groan, "Two. Hours. It took me two hours to get home!" She toed off her penny loafers and abandoned her purse and jacket in a pile by the front door, ignoring the hook three inches to her left. She flopped heavily onto her living room carpet. 

"I see you found my spare key," she added, not at all surprised that Lambert had managed to let himself in. 

"Yeah, you should probably put that in a less obvious spot," he answered, crossing to the door to hang her things up. "So, I see it's a lying on the floor kind of evening. Can I interest you in a drink to start? Vodka pairs well with the general vibe of Done-With-This-Shit, or we also have tequila if you feel like shouting out the window after a couple shots. Alternatively, there's gin if you want to cry later." 

Essi smiled with her eyes closed, feeling her body slowly relaxing into the spongy throw rug underneath her, "You know me so well." 

"Vodka?" 

"Vodka. Euch, I need to vacuum!," Essi peeled herself to a seated position as clinks and clatters began in the kitchen. She hopped in the shower to rinse the day off, and after a few minutes, there was a knock on the bathroom door. 

"Yeeees?" she called, playfully. 

"Drink delivery!" Lambert hollered back, "you want this now or later?" 

"Why are you so good to me?" 

There was a draught of cool air as Lambert opened the bathroom door, "Because you only marginally annoy me. Here," he passed his hand between the shower wall and the opaque fish-scale-patterned curtain. "What's on the docket for tonight?" 

Essi groaned, "I don't know, I'm sorry. I used all my brain cells trying not to murder people on the streetcar." 

"Okay," Lambert sat on the lidded toilet, "here's the thing. I kinda maybe figured that might be the case so I kinda maybe picked up a few things to make dinner." 

A shampoo-piled head poked out from behind the curtain, "You're kidding." 

"Nuh-uh." 

"I love you." 

Lambert chuckled, "Yeah, you're alright. Come on, hurry up, this bathroom's a fuckin’ sauna, and I don’t want the croutons to get soggy." Essi burbled an answer about conditioner and almost done, and Lambert took that as his cue to leave.

Dinner was simple: pan fried Salmon with crispy skin (delicate and buttery on the inside); wax beans in butter (tender and not overcooked); grilled brussels sprouts (just beginning to brown on the edges); and a fresh caesar salad. Everything done to perfection. Full, content, and ready to take their relaxation to the next step they settled themselves on Essi’s blue-grey sectional to begin the arduous task of deciding what to watch. 

This was proving particularly difficult with the addition of Essi's caveat that whatever they chose not be "too plot-heavy" which so far had included Masterchef, an interior design show, and program about shepherding in the Orkneys. 

"Sweetheart, you gotta give me some slack here. I thought I was on track with the sheep!" 

"I know, I'm sorry!" Essi muffled into his shirt sleeve. "I do like animals..." She gasped loudly. "BLUE PLANET."

Lambert stopped the endless scrolling and pushed play as the soothing voice of David Attenborough filled the small living room.

"Hey! Why'd you pause it?" 

Lambert was standing up, "If we're going to do this, then we're doing it right. Hang on." 

Essi slumped on the sofa as the microwave kicked on. In a few minutes, there was popcorn in their laps and half a bottle of vodka on the table with an ice bucket and lemon wedges in a bowl. Lambert read off his phone screen.

"We will take a drink when: 

-David says 'Extraordinary' -David uses a clear understatement such as 'But then again, living in an active volcano is not without its risks' -An animal is being eaten -An animal is mating -There is sped up footage of a plant growing."

"Oh no," Essi lamented, chewing her popcorn ungracefully, "I'm going to get so drunk." 

"You got it, Goldilocks. Fill up."

And with that, they were off, taking it slow with their vodka twists, but nonetheless feeling the warm buzz start to tingle under their skin. The box of microwave popcorn was empty by halfway through, and the remains of Essi's exhaustion had almost dispersed entirely.

"Ooh! Understatement! Drink!!" 

By ten o’clock, pink-cheeked and feeling boisterous, they had finished with their favourite parts of Blue Planet, or at least the ones they had patience for, and had moved on to Planet Earth II.

“Holy fuck, that’s a lot of snakes—Go, you little fucker! Go!”

The drama on the screen had caused the two to separate from one another while Lambert invested himself in the success of the small lizard. Once the baby Galapagos Iguana had made it to safety, they were once again able to recline without Essi risking an elbow to the face.

She bundled against him, scooting farther between his legs where he leaned in the corner of the sectional. He gathered her hair and draped it over her left shoulder so it wouldn't get caught in his buttons—they'd learned that the hard way. It was still damp, cool to the touch, and smelled like verbena sea salt shampoo. He felt a pulse of affection ripple through him as her weight resettled. He loved that feeling. It had taken some time to get used to it. But now it was high on his list of favourite things. He was happy. And it was healthy. And that really was all that mattered. 

Right?

Eskel’s words turned themselves around again in his mind as he wrapped his arm around the front of Essi’s shoulders. He let himself indulge in the texture of her cotton knit nightshirt under his fingers. He relished in the peace of mind at being able to just be there with someone who meant something to him and made absolutely no demands. He let himself relax. 

Essi felt a kiss land on the top of her head with a playful, "Muwah!" 

She giggled quietly, "Thank you!" Then, upon further thought… Did he want to kiss her? Her mind did a double take as she tried to get on top of the ball.  

It wasn’t impossible. They were close after all, and she wasn’t opposed to the idea. She’d recently found herself in a balancing act of realizing she could, in theory, have a deeper kind of feeling for Lambert. Only if, for whatever reason, it turned out he felt the same way. These weren’t the helpless uncontrollable feelings of ride-or-die infatuation; they were malleable, translatable, general feelings of affection and fondness that belonged in any number of different relationships and dynamics. 

No sense risking it, she thought. They'd found a liminal space of comfort and safety that she'd never experienced with anyone else before, and if the options were between being a little confused and ruining everything, the choice was an easy one. Then again, if Lambert was developing feelings for her, she didn’t want to miss an opportunity. Shit. Her cheeks burned as she felt the question rise closer to her lips. 

"Lambert?" she sat up abruptly and turned to her friend who was still moulded into the corner of the couch, watching the mating rituals of exotic birds with bewildered skepticism. 

He jolted at Essi’s sudden movement, "Hello, yes." 

Her bright blue eyes were now slightly unfocused, "Do you—? Nevermind." She lay back against him, suddenly skittish..

"Mm, nah, try again," he said, sluggishly. "What’s up, buttercup?" 

She swayed a little when she sat up, "Are you happy with what we are?"

Lambert blinked, caught slightly off-guard. The question was easy enough to answer, "Yeah! I mean I don’t know what the fuck we are, but I’m feeling pretty good about it. Shit, why? Are you not? I can be less… whatever. Or… more?" It wasn’t like he was repulsed by the idea of anything else happening between them—in theory it was a possibility. In practice, however...

Essi put an emphatic hand on Lambert’s knee, her glassy eyes going wide, "Do you want more?" 

"What? No! I dunno, I—maybe. I haven’t really thought about it. I mean…” Lambert searched Essi’s face for any clue that might help him know how to proceed, “I don’t not want anything else. Fuck, I don’t know! I’m used to doing things the other way around. You know the drill: uncomfortable date, smoosh faces together, have sex, hope feelings fall out. Lather-rinse-repeat. I dunno, do we have to… But what if we try something and...? I don’t wanna lose this." 

Essi leaned in close and whispered, “I have an idea.”

"Why do I feel like I'm going to regret this?" 

"We should kiss."

Lambert nearly swallowed an ice cube, "What?!"

"Just once. Quickly. Just... in case." 

"You want me, Lambert, to kiss you, Essi Daven, on the lips."

She nodded sincerely, "For science."

There was a brief pause during which Essi felt the beginnings of panic brewing in her stomach, but by the time she'd finished grappling with potential consequences, Lambert was filling their glasses. 

"Alright. Fine. My friend wants me to kiss her for science? Fuck it. I'll drink to that." 

They downed their drinks and squared up, knee to knee on the edge of the sofa as they each prepared for their best form—or as good as they could offer given the circumstances. They counted down, 3-2-1...

The kiss was quick, over as soon as it had begun, and both friends pulled away with questioning looks. Inconclusive. They tried again for a little longer, still returning with the same quizzical expressions. They went in for a third time, committing more thoroughly, and for a brief moment it seemed they might have found the semblance of a spark. But it didn’t build. It felt… fine? But no different than if they were lying together on the sofa. It was just another thing they were doing. They each tried to find the right word for what they were feeling, but were soon distracted by the oddness of it all.   

Essi started to giggle. Less than a second later, Lambert joined her, and they both pulled away, thoroughly satisfied that their experiment had yielded a strong No on the subject of More. There was a dull thud as Essi slid from the couch and onto the floor, still holding her drink in one hand and laughing hysterically. 

Lambert sighed and shook his head, "I think it’s time we got you to bed."

Headaches and dry mouths greeted the two friends the next morning when they blinked awake. Essi’s hair was a cotton-candy mess, having still been slightly damp when Lambert put her to bed. The brunet himself didn’t look much different from his usual scruffy state as he gathered Essi up in an armful of duvet and squeezed tight.

“Gods, Lambert, I still need to breathe,” Essi chuckled, pressing her back into his chest. 

“You’ll get over it,” he teased and self-indulgently nuzzled even closer. “You feeling alright? I mean, aside from the hangover. About last night?” 

“Oh no,” Essi groaned, “I’m so sorry, Lambert. I shouldn’t have said anything. It’s just—you kissed my head and then that got me wondering about whether you might want something else, and then I didn’t really know what was happening and—” 

“Hey, easy on the rambling, okay, I’m running on limited brain cells, here. Look,” Lambert sat up to find those big blue eyes, now shining brightly, “I have no idea what the fuck this is that we’ve got going on, but I like it fine just the way it is.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. And we can keep talking about that. Just, you know, maybe next time something’s on your mind, don’t wait ‘til we’re wasted at 2am?”

“Okay, deal. Can we go get bacon now?”

Lambert chuckled, “Yeah, alright, fine. Make me put pants on, I see how it is.”

Their conversation continued over strong coffee and eggs benedicts. Between their check-in that morning and everything that had happened the previous night, it was well-established that they were perfectly happy where they were. Rather, the main topic of conversation was their growing desire to level with their friends about the nature of their relationship. Eskel and Geralt, they both agreed, would be the easiest—Lambert could tell them that evening. Julian and Essi’s friends on the other hand would be a little more difficult. 

Telling Julian together would be best, Essi thought. He was bound to have questions, and if both she and Lambert were there to answer them definitively and explain that no, they didn’t have secret feelings for one another; and yes, they really were just friends and not at all interested in exploring the relationship further thank you very much. Exactly when this discussion with Julian would occur still wasn’t clear. Realistically, they could pick any time, but they decided to wait until Lambert could tell the Old Men. At least then they were assured some less invasive support. 

Their reaction was easy enough to predict: Eskel reassuringly repeated his standby “As long as you’re both happy with things…” and twirled a forkful of pasta; Geralt tilted his head thoughtfully and said, “That sounds very nice. I’m happy for you.” Lambert had expected mild disapproval, concern that they were deviating too far from the norm and into a complex dynamic that would be too messy to manage. Instead, Geralt simply said it ‘sounded very nice.’ Lambert smiled into the open refrigerator on his way to get a beer. 

The following weekend was Julian’s birthday, and, as per their annual tradition, the group all gathered on Friday evening at the birthday boy’s favourite restaurant—Vegelbud’s. The two decided to tell him the week after his birthday so as not to detract from his Big 3-0. Just one more week, and it would all be in the open. Easy breasy.

The afternoon of the dinner, Eskel and Geralt received a group text: Haven’t told Julian the details yet. Keep the beans to yourselves please (I’m looking at you, @Eskel). 

“Why me?” Eskel turned to Geralt over his paperwork, looking a little hurt. 

Geralt chuckled, “You have a slight tendency to overshare when you want to be supportive.”

“I do?” He turned on the bar stool to follow his partner on the way upstairs.

“It’s not a bad thing, but…” Geralt sighed, “Lambert has always needed to feel in control of situations like this. He doesn’t want one of us bringing this up before he’s ready to talk about it, especially in a public place, you know how he gets when he feels cornered. And Julian is Essi’s cousin…”

Eskel raised a hand, “You’re right, you’re right. All points taken. Are you showering?”

Geralt smirked as he headed for the stairs, “Come on then.” 

Four hours later and halfway through dinner, everything had gone swimmingly. The food had been expectedly delicious, the company and conversation excellent, and so far no one had felt the need to bring up Essi and Lambert’s relationship on any level. That is until Julian got a few drinks under his belt, and decided it was time to document the occasion. Geralt and Eskel were the first victims. 

“Aww just look at you two! So in love, so vivacious and full of adoration,” Julian held up his phone as Geralt touched the side of his head to Eskel’s. Beep-Chk! A perfect image of a happy couple was captured and posted to Instagram (#julianturns30 #dinneratvagelbuds #dinnerout #cutiesofinstagram #favoriteotp #gaycouplesofinstagram #livelaughlove…). There were a few more photos of the three of them together, the white chocolate raspberry cheesecake with the candle in it, a group shot taken by the waiter. It was all so close to being over, Essi could practically taste the refuge of the streetcar. 

"Come on, lovebirds, show us a smooch!" Oh no. Oh no, oh no, oh no. Essi’s stomach lurched and she felt her cheeks start to warm. Lambert’s hand landed gently on her knee under the table, his fingers pressing firmly into her leg as she desperately tried to think of something to say. 

"Oh, um..." 

Across the table, Geralt and Eskel shared a wordless communication: de-escalate, distract, redirect.

“You’ll want to eat that cheesecake before it gets warm” Geralt offered. “I hear it’s so light it’ll disintegrate in a heartbeat.” Eskel nodded in encouragement, taking a bite of his own. 

“I know, I know,” Julian shrugged, “Just a quick one. Say Cheese!”

"Not right now, Julian," Essi tilted her head, her eyes flashing a little. 

"Oh come on, Poppet! I know you don't like PDA, it's just one little picture--"

“Don’t call me Poppet.”

Eskel cleared his throat loudly, "Doesn't seem they're that keen on it. Maybe let's try for one another time." 

"It's past your one-month-a-versary, let everyone see how in love you are." 

"Julian," Geralt growled, "leave it." 

Julian covered his mouth in alarm, "I’m so sorry, have you not used that word yet? I didn’t mean anything by it, I just want the world to see how happy my beautiful cousin is!" 

“Really Julian, it’s not necessary we—” Essi’s fingernails were starting to dig into Lambert’s palm from the sheer effort of maintaining composure. She wasn’t sure whether she wanted to cry or disappear, and with neither of those being an option, it seemed the only possible escape was for them to kiss. They’d done it before. No big deal. It would feel off, but they’d just go back to her place and drink about it after. 

“Essi, what’s the matter with you, it’s just one little picture, and we all know you’re not camera-shy. On three, ready? One, two…”

"For fuck's sake we're not dating!" 

The table all silently turned their attention to Essi whose cheeks had been turning progressively redder. 

“What?” Her cousin laughed incredulously. 

“We’re not a couple, Julian. We’re friends. We have been from the beginning, but we didn’t want to tell you because we knew you wouldn’t fucking leave us alone until you could boast about having set us up.”

Lambert shared a brief look with Eskel before lowering his eyes to the tablecloth, his hand still firmly clutched in Essi’s. 

Julian gaped, “So, it was all… the cuddling, the laughing, that time I came over and you were asleep on the couch, that was all… a ruse?” 

“No, Julian, that was real. I told you, we’re friends.”

“That’s not friends! Since when have friends watched a movie half-on-top of each other?” 

“Two people can enjoy each other's company lying flat, Julian,” Eskel’s rich voice interjected across the table and the discussion ground to a halt. 

Geralt shrugged with his tea at his lips, “It is the twenty-first century after all.”

Julian’s cornflower blue eyes flitted back and forth between the two friends, utterly bewildered. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Well what with your complete and utter invasion of privacy for the sake of hooking us up, we didn’t necessarily trust you to believe us,” Essi answered curtly, her hand shaking slightly. 

“Poppet, you could have just told me—”

“Stop. Calling me that. And I did tell you, Julian!” she exploded. “I told you the first day I moved here. The first. Day. I said, ‘Julian, I think I want to take a break from dating until I’ve been settled for a year.’ And what did you do? Conspired with my well-meaning former mentor to hook me up with someone I had one good conversation with at a Christmas party. And do you know what? We are happy. But we’re happy in our own way. And maybe our boundaries with each other seem a little strange to you, but we’re not fooling ourselves. We don’t want to kiss each other, we don’t want to have sex, and we don’t want a relationship. And even though it’s absolutely none of your damn business, I’ll tell you anyway: we’ve talked about it. All of it. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I don’t think I want to be here anymore.” 

The chair legs scraped against the floor of the restaurant as Essi stood to leave, throwing her purse over her shoulder as she went. Lambert looked hesitantly around the table, “I should probably, you know…” He gestured after Essi with his thumb. Eskel gave Lambert the go ahead and he quickly stood to follow his friend out of the restaurant, leaving a very stunned Julian with the other two. He found her perched on the parking barrier in the small lot to the left of the front doors. He called to her and she looked up. Eyes shining, mascara running... 

“Ah shit, you know I’m no good with this kind of thing.” 

“I’m sorry, Lambert, I just—” she blew her nose, “—he just wouldn’t stop and I didn’t know what to do or say, and it all just came pouring out. I didn’t want it to. The whole time I was begging myself to stop, but I just couldn’t, it’s been bottled up for so long and-and—but it’s his birthday, and—oh, he must feel so awful! I didn’t want to make him feel bad, but—and with Eskel and Geralt there too! They must think I’m horrible! I’m so sorry, Lambert, I didn’t want it to be like this, I wanted to have him over and sit him down and be patient, and instead I’ve just made a complete mess of things. And on his birthday! It’s his birthday, oh God, this is the worst thing I could have done.” Essi choked back bitter tears as she tried desperately to stem the flow with her soggy tissue, “Are you upset with me, Lambert? If you are, I understand. Maybe we should take a break of some kind, you know. Not see each other for a while and—”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, hold it right there. Look, I’m probably not going to say any of the right stuff here, but I am absolutely not upset with you. You got that? And for what it’s worth, I don’t think us taking a break from spending time together is going to do anything. Unless you’re looking to punish yourself by taking away a nice thing which, okay. But the fact that you’re willing to ditch me instead of Arbor Mist says something about our friendship I’m not too pleased with.” 

Essi turned her wide, pleading, bloodshot eyes to Lambert who cracked a smile, “Jesus, I’m kidding! You adorable fucking mess, c’mere.” He pulled his petite friend into a hug and rested his chin on the top of her head until she quieted down. Neither of them was quite sure how much time had gone by, but Essi found herself wishing it had been long enough for everyone to have gone home so she didn’t have to face whatever aftermath she’d left behind. 

Meanwhile, Eskel and Geralt had settled the bill and offered to give Julian a lift back to their place for a night cap, not wanting to leave the evening on such an unsettled note. Essi needed space, and whatever company she needed, Lambert was clearly capable of providing. It was for the best, they suggested, and dissuaded Julian from trying to call her. 

“Best to sleep on things,” Geralt said, tucking his card back into his wallet and giving the waiter a nod in gratitude. “We can meet for coffee this weekend and sort this out. For now, just let her cool down.” 

Eskel clapped Julian encouragingly on the shoulder as they made their way into the damp summer night air. As they turned into the parking lot, they came face-to-face with Essi and Lambert who had clearly just turned to come back inside. Both cousins looked like they had seen better days: Essi’s eyes were puffy and red, her cheeks blotchy and streaked with inky makeup stains; Julian was perhaps less dishevelled, but the dark circles under his eyes were more pronounced, his boyish features now dejectedly weighted down with remorse and hurt. 

“Juian, I’m so sorry, I didn’t—” 

Essi’s cousin raised his hand, “Don’t. Please don’t. Essi, I am so, so sorry. I never meant to push you like that, I didn't realize... you both have been so happy this last month and—"

"It's okay, really, we can talk about this all another time. I'm just so sorry I ruined your birthday. We wanted to sit down with you and talk properly but..." Essi's tears welled up again, and Julian smiled weakly. 

"But we both did what we always do?"

She sniffed, nodding emphatically with a tearful, "Yeah.” Julian pulled his cousin into a fond embrace while the other three clumped together to watch the reconciliation. 

“Oh! Here,” Essi reached into her purse and pulled out a small, neatly-wrapped box. “Happy birthday!” 

Julian opened his gift without a second thought, his face brightening instantly. The box contained a set of premium ultra-light guitar strings and a pair of concert tickets. The perfect gift. Overwhelmed with gratitude, and the atmosphere having been recovered, Julian suggested they all attend brunch together that Sunday morning, his treat by way of apology. Geralt offered to split the bill as a peace offering for his part in the initial setup, and the five made a date. 

A fresh start, a promise of spending time together with fewer secrets and, Julian conceded, a few more boundaries. 

[waywardwrestlewritingwaif]

Raise the Stakes, Part One

So this is a sequel to Place Your Bets. It's actually just the first part of a sequel because I'm trying to publish things in shorter segments. Time is valuable and I know it can be tricky to sit down and read through someone's 8,000-word opus.

That said, you will have to read Place Your Bets first or this isn't going to make any sense.

Pairing: David Finlay x OFC with mentioned Jay White x OFC

Word count: 1,641

Content advisory: Brief sexual references, Jay being an emotionally abusive asshole

You’ve tried three or four times to reconcile the pay statement from New Japan with the list of expenses you submitted for Jay last week. They’re different. The check is lower than it should be and even though it’s not by a lot, this sort of thing drives Jay mental and he’s been in such a mood since you dared go on a date that you’re going to extraordinary lengths to try to pacify him.

If anything, you feel like making more of an effort is making him harder on you. He’s had you working practically around the clock, thinking nothing of waking you up in the middle of the night to demand you find some obscure record, or complaining that he doesn’t understand something. He’s demanded you reschedule every appointment you’ve made for him at least once, so that everyone who’s relying on you so that they can work with him has been screaming at you.

So you’re exhausted and anxious and you can’t figure out why you have a check that doesn’t match your invoice because the accounting department here codes everything differently, so the amounts per line are combined or split up in ways you don’t understand and you have to patch it back together. It’s impossible.

The thing is, you’ve done it before. The expense checks are screwed up 4 times out of 5 and it’s always a chore that takes you hours to resolve. You’ve done this when you’ve been travelling nonstop for a day, when Jay has been screaming at you for hours, and when you’ve been surviving on coffee and stubbornness. The difference now is that you’re distracted.

In the years you’ve had this job, you’ve never felt distracted this way. You keep replaying your night with Finlay in your mind and you catch yourself smiling like an idiot at the way your stomach flips. Despite the fact that Jay’s been keeping you on a tight leash, you’ve caught plenty of glimpses of David around the place. Sometimes, you’ll pass close enough that you catch a whiff of his soft amber-y cologne and your skin shivers. And you look. Jay isn’t interested enough in you to watch you closely enough to see what you’re doing as long as he knows he can order you around whenever he feels like it.

David looks back, too, with a sly smile or a wink. He actually has to be a little more cautious about it because Jay has been watching him since their New Japan Cup match, already fantasizing about revenge. But he has his techniques. He’ll glance over and lock eyes with Jay before letting them drift to you. The looks you exchange feel almost as intimate as when the two of you were naked in his bed together.

You’ve sent a couple of cryptic text messages back and forth but David’s perfectly aware that Jay will flip through your phone without even asking because he considers it his property. It’s killing you, always being in each other’s orbit and being unable to do anything about it. But more importantly, it’s distracting you from work.

You’re standing over the table, using a pencil to note where you think the things from your invoice have been entered on the payment statement when your breath catches. There’s that scent in the room with you, easing close behind you until you feel a strong pair of arms close around you.

“Sorry, I couldn’t help myself,” he murmurs into your skin.

You exhale and let yourself melt into him, resting your hands over his as you incline your head back.

“I can’t stop thinking about you,” you breathe.

He holds you a little tighter.

“I have to go back to the States to do some Impact shows. I’ll be gone a few weeks.”

You whine quietly.

“I’m leaving tomorrow night.”

“It’s not fair.”

He hums and kisses his way up your neck, making your whole body tremble.

“Any chance you could sneak out tonight?”

“I’d like to see someone try and stop me.”

“The slave driver won’t be happy.”

“I cannot tell you how little I care right now.”

He loosens his hold and you take the opportunity to turn around, touching your lips to his as you’ve been longing to do for days. You peck at each other a few times, smiling, both of your eyes lit from within.

“I’m in room-“

“I know what room you’re in,” you grin.

“Are you stalking me?”

“Damn right I am.”

You give in to the urge to kiss a little more urgently until a noise at the door has you jumping apart like reversed magnets.

You’re terrified it’s Jay because you are in no way ready for that showdown. But it’s Sanada coming to get a drink from the vending machine. He cocks an eyebrow at the two of you, which is enough to let you know that he’s aware of the nature of what he’s interrupted.

It isn’t a problem, though. He doesn’t talk to Jay unless they have a match and even then it’s only going over the game plan. He’ll gossip to his LIJ buddies but it’ll stay within their tight little circle. They'd rather laugh at Jay behind his back.

When he leaves, David takes your hand and the two of you are smiling like teenagers again.

“Guess I should run away before we really get caught.”

You kiss him, fervently, and you’re hardly able to pull yourself away.

“I’ll text you when I know what time I can escape.”

You’re both blushing as he exits the room. When you turn around to face your payment problem, you could swear it’s gotten more complicated than it was before.

*

“I need you to reschedule that appointment with the physio guy to Thursday,” Jay grumbles.

He’s been hovering since he came in, although he hasn’t been quite as obstreperous as usual, muttering to himself or to his game console rather than outright trying to interrupt you. You could take your work to your room but then he would be texting and calling you all the time, assuming that you weren’t working if he couldn’t see it. You’re still trying to untangle the knots of the expense report and it’s tantalizingly close. You’ve gotten nearly this far a couple of times only to be forced to backtrack and re-evaluate but this time you can see your way through; just a couple of twists and tugs and you’ll have it all smoothed out.

You roll your eyes at the sound of Jay’s voice, content that he can’t see your face from his vantage point.

“We’ve been through this, Jay. This guy is a specialist they’ve brought in and his schedule’s been set by the company. No changes, no exceptions.”

“Well you need to ask, at least,” he huffs.

“Why? All it’s going to do is aggravate management and you won’t get what you ask for.” You pivot to face him. “Why would you even want to change it?”

“I have something I want to do on Wednesday, not that it’s any of your business. I’d rather see him on Thursday.”

“It’s not going to happen.”

You fully expect from the look on his face that he’s going to lose it and start screaming about how you’re just there to do what he says. But though his lips twitch and his nostrils flare. He says nothing. Perhaps this is it. Perhaps this is the week that he fires you and replaces you with someone new who’ll do everything he says and flatter his ego without the attitude you’re prone to giving him. A couple of times, he’s told you that you were fired in a rage, only to contact you hours later and start grumpily giving you orders again. He never apologizes when this happens but he’s always a little quieter and less belligerent for a few days.

This nonverbal fury is something new, so maybe it’s a sign that the end is nigh. Maybe you’ll suddenly find a way to reinvent yourself without Jay White in your life. Take a calligraphy class. Teach English at some private business school. Get a dog. Have a relationship with someone who could love you back.

With that in mind, you force yourself to work out the final parts of the project that’s haunted you all day. You’re so happy when it’s done, when you understand exactly what’s missing and what you need to tell them to have it corrected, that you want to stand up and cheer and pat yourself on the back because god knows that no one else will.

Normally, you’d email the head office right away and go through everything you’ve found in concise bullet points to make sure you’re understood but instead, you close your laptop and stand up.

“Right,” you say breezily, “I'm off then.”

“Off where?” he growls without looking at you. “Another date?”

“Actually, yes.”

“This is becoming a problem.”

“No, it isn’t. I’ve done everything that’s required of me. I’ve jumped through every insane hoop, dodged every trap you’ve given me. You know perfectly well that the fact that I’ve been… that I’ve… There is no issue with my work.”

“I say it’s becoming a problem and in this equation, I’m the only one who matters.”

His reflexive cruelty always hits you right in the stomach, like you’re in the ring with him, and knowing that you have someone who wants to be with you and wants to please you doesn’t dull that at all.

“I matter Jay,” you say quietly. “I just don’t matter to you.”

You see a muscle in his beck twitch but even though you give him a moment, he says nothing. And it’s a painful realization that the only reason you’re waiting is in the desperate hope that he’ll contradict you, that he’ll surprise you for once in his life.

[ugh-tsumu]

hi ading !!! 4, 37, 44, 63 for the oc asks !

ATE DANI AHHHH! Thank you for sending an ask 🥺 it's pretty obvious that me and my bff @bucciaratisbralette are obsessed with them, given our constant reblogs with our fics and character sheets. We got carried away but thank you so much for asking! <333

Our OCs are members of Unità di Intelligence - an intelligence unit from JoJo's Bizarre Adventures universe

OCs ASK GAME

Matteo // Erebus

4.) What is a noticeable physical attribute of your OC?

His bangs are white because of polisios that he inherited from his father (he also has white spots on the back of his head but he dyes it because someone called him a dalmatian once). he's also quite tall and pale so people notice him right away.

37.) What is your OC’s biggest dream?

He doesn't currently have a dream that he wants to achieve. Rather, he doesn't have the time to think about having one because he's too busy living in the present to think about what he wants in the future. for now, he can say that he just wants to keep his unit safe and stay avoid his father.

44.) What are some things that greatly upset your OC?

He doesn't like it whenever people are being incompetent. He also doesn't like it whenever the subject of his past and his family are brought up, he'd like to leave it behind. He also gets annoyed by customers sometimes if they get too Karen-y at him or his team. (Poor Matt)

63.) How does your OC display love?

He doesn't know how to properly express it, but sometimes he will tell you that you did a good job and that you should take a break. would probably also give you a thumbs up if he thinks it's appropriate.

Ivano // Deus

4.) What is a noticeable physical attribute of your OC?

He's the shortest on the lot HAHAHAHAHA. His eyes are peculiarly blue. Like, beautiful blue. Gojo blue! And I don't know if it shows but Suga was my inspiration for his look hehe.

37.) What is your OC’s biggest dream?

Oh, to manipulate Matteo! It was the sole reason why he joined the unit.

44.) What are some things that greatly upset your OC?

He hates not being in control. Ivano probably has God complex. He thinks everyone is under his control (not really)

63.) How does your OC display love?

He is really rude to the members but I don't think Ivano understands the concept of 'love' and 'family'. Up to this day, he's still confused about why he cares for his members or his 'puppets'.

4.) What is a noticeable physical attribute of your OC?

She's actually quite muscular and has very toned legs and biceps. the darker skin tone also attracts a few eyes on her because of where they are situated on (Italy).

37.) What is your OC’s biggest dream?

She dreams of the day when the identity of the person who gave the order to kill her people is revealed to her. She waits for the time when she can inflict the same amount of pain they had caused her. she hasn't found them yet but she's getting there with the help of Matteo.

44.) What are some things that greatly upset your OCs?

She really values loyalty and those who are special to her. Do anything to betray her or hurt those dearest to her, then you can probably expect either your water to be poisoned or something happening to your blood. Her biggest pet peeve however is when people litter and when someone smokes near plants (she's alright with you smoking but just don't be near any plants)

63.) How does your OC display love?

She likes making hot chocolate for people that she cares about. She'll ask about their day and would be down to cuddle with them while they're watching movies on the tv.

Gnu // PX or Prayer X (pronounced as Gee-nu)

4.) What is a noticeable physical attribute of your OC?

Gnu is noticeably feminine. It's because the cult his family was part of (and he escaped from) groomed children to become "lady-like". Gnu also wore clothes that are color white so now, he's VERY obsessed with black clothing.

Another thing that is noticeable from Gnu are the two dots on his cheeks. These are actually tattoos that he got from the tattoo shop Mundo suggested back when he was still exploring his taste in fashion.

37.) What is your OC’s biggest dream?

His dream is for things to stay as it is, really. He considers his members as his family now and to lose his family for the second time is something he'd rather not happen.

44.) What are some things that greatly upset your OC?

Gnu hates seeing children getting hurt. By children, I mean anyone younger than him. That's why he's kind of protective of Achiyaku, Finn, and Mundo. He also hates people who are greedy for power. This killed the other children from his cult, after all.

63.) How does your OC display love?

I'd like to say his love language is Acts of Service? He likes to draw quick sketches (he's a great painter) of the other members. He's pretty protective with the younger ones, too - even does the things for them even (like reaching this, picking up that, cleaning this, closing that, the little things).

Mundo // Mundo

4.) What is a noticeable physical attribute of your OC?

He's....so random. He has this tacky hoodie and he has nothing underneath it. His hair is dyed with an unusual shade of blue. His glasses don't match the "aesthetic" he's trying to pull and he has this weird stars and moon tattoo under his eyes (yes, he got it when he recommended the tattoo shop to Gnu).

It's not even possible to not physically notice him. The colors are all over the place and he's...exotic.

37.) What is your OC’s biggest dream?

Mundo is short and simple minded. As of now, he consideres joining the unit as his biggest dream (he is not an official member) in which Matteo (the leader) does not approve of since he's only 16 and should be studying instead of loitering at their business.

44.) What are some things that greatly upset your OC?

Hmmmmm....Mundo is a very positive person so I don't know if there are things that upsets him. I barely know him as a character, but he loves to have fun and he barely shows other sides of him to others. His background story has not been posted yet but Mundo is an individual the others barely know. No one knows his real name, his family background, where he studies, his real intentions, etc.

He's very mysterious....

63.) How does your OC display love?

CLINGY. CUDDLES. SURPRISE TACKLES. SURPRISE HUGS. He's like that younger brother that's literally obsessed with anything you do. He loves to cling to Ivano the most and Ivano keeps on swating him away (he "hates" him, he said) but this does not stop him from pestering him LOL.

Finn // Hermes

4.) What is a noticeable physical attribute of your OC?

His cheeks are really full and are soft to pinch (but please don't pinch without permission. Also why he looks younger than he is)

37.) What is your OC’s biggest dream?

He wanted to become a bigshot in the robotics and AI field, but after running away when his brother died, he doesn't know anymore. he still likes his robots and coding so the dream might not be dead afterall.

44.) What are some things that greatly upset your OC?

he doesn't like it whenever people would talk bad about his brother (back in Germany). he also doesn't like it whenever people gossip about his team (especially those who talk badly about Ivano and Matteo). Finn also doesn't appreciate it if people were to touch anything that he was working on (be it a new model for his robot or his laptop if he's working on a code). Also gets annoyed whenever people call his stand creepy (he personally doesn't understand why they think so (RBR in the back: 👁👄👁) )

63.) How does your OC display love?

he smiles more around people and would try to engage in conversation more often. he would let them touch the robots he's working on and explain to them how it should function if he gets the coding right (MUNDO LOVES THEM EVEN IF HE DOES NOT HAVE A CLUE). also cuddles are appreciated.

[nalgenewhore]

With My Life - Chapter Nine 

masterlist - ao3 - last chapter - next chapter 

warnings: (all graphic) violence, guns, blood, smut, implied PTSD

an: very interesting.....all i have to say 

“Hellas, V, is this really where you live?” 

Vaughan shushed Fenrys and ushered the twins into his shitty little apartment, suspiciously checking the hallway before closing the door. They waited as he bolted each lock, every deadbolt going click, click, click, click, click.

Rowan raised his eyebrows and looked at Lorcan, mouthing Five locks. Lorcan just shrugged, Vaughan had always been a private person. He was more interested in the pictures his brother had on his fridge - one of him, Lorcan, and their sisters, one of their mother, and one of him and Lorcan as children, both frowning as the photographer interrupted their game of Mario Kart. 

Lorcan, like the others, had never set foot in Vaughan’s apartment. He was the only one - the sole person - in the world who knew where Vaughan lived, for emergencies, but he’d never been. Not even the agency knew where it was.

Lorcan, Rowan, and Nehemia were already there, sitting at his kitchen table with the decrypted list on Nehemia’s laptop. 

Fenrys took the seat next to his wife and smiled at her, kissing her cheek in greeting. Connall sat next to Lorcan and nodded hello. “Nice place, Vaughan,” he commented, leaning back in his chair and putting his feet on the table. 

Vaughan clicked his tongue as he too sat down, “Get your feet off my table. I eat here.” 

Connall made a face, but did as he was ordered, becoming serious. “Why are we here?” 

“Maeve is connected to Erawan. She’s helping him import Wyrd,” Lorcan said bluntly, turning the computer screen to show them. “Mia couldn’t figure out the codes, but just look.” 

They all leaned in to read. Rowan sat upright first, voice hollow, “It’s our old missions.” He picked up the laptop and stood up, pacing as he read, “Sollemere, Mistward, Morath… fuck, even Perranth.” Perranth wasn’t supposed to be on record. The second they’d gotten home, it had been erased from history. 

“Let me see,” Fenrys said, standing and grabbing the computer from Rowan. If it wasn’t such a serious moment, Lorcan might’ve laughed at the childishness of it all and their brotherly dynamic, still unable to share even after all these years. “It’s all here.” 

“What happens now,” Connall asked, serious as he leaned forward to brace his forearms against the table. 

“We leave,” Nehemia said, taking the computer back from Fenrys. “It’s not safe for any of us. I’m sure Maeve had someone watching her back and that they saw me in there yesterday while she was wiping the file. We can’t do any work here and she will put our family at risk, so we go.” 

“Where?” Rowan asked, crossing his arms over his chest. “It has to be far enough from her, but we can’t just leave. People’s lives are in danger.” 

Nehemia and Lorcan exchanged a glance and the former spoke up, “Terrasen. They have an alliance with Wendlyn, but their treaty forbids any foreign secret service working within its borders. We all have contacts there, we’ll be able to work out a deal once we figure out what she wants.”

Fenrys sighed and rubbed his eyes, sitting down heavily in a chair next to Nehemia. She absentmindedly rubbed his back, resting her chin on his shoulder. “We can’t all leave. Somebody needs to stay.” 

Lorcan and Rowan protested immediately, “What are you talking about–” “Fen, it’s not the time to play hero–” 

“I’m not playing hero, Ro,” Fenrys said, voice tired and strained. “She’ll go mad - you know she will, when we leave. She’s unpredictable, boys, and dangerous. We need someone on the inside, someone she trusts.” He glanced upwards at Connall, who nodded grimly. 

Nehemia stiffened, turning to her husband. Her voice was barely above a whisper as she said, “You mean you and Con. Fen…” 

“It’s the only option, sweetheart,” he whispered, his head hung low. “Maeve hasn’t trusted Ro since he married Ae. She looks at L like she’s waiting to kill him and you know she won’t let V live if L leaves. We’re the only option.” 

Nehemia looked at the others as they all took their seats again. No one wanted it to happen, that much was obvious, but realistically… it was the only way. 

+*+*+*+*+*+*

Elide looked up from the stack of essays she was grading for the undergraduate class when her phone started to ring. 

She capped her purple pen and put it to the side before picking up her phone. The number was one she didn’t recognise, yet she still accepted the call, “Hello?” 

“Princess, it’s me.” 

A smitten smile pulled at her lips just at his voice and Elide leaned back in her chair, “Well, hello. I didn’t recognise the number.” 

“I’m calling from a phone booth, my phone died,” Lorcan explained. “Listen, E, there’s something… something I gotta tell you and it’s going to seem crazy, alright?” 

Apprehension seized her and she almost wished she hadn’t picked up the phone, “What is it?” 

He hesitated on the other end of the line for a second or two. “An old client of mine… he’s made some enemies and… we need to leave the country.” 

Elide laughed, relieved that it was all a joke. But Lorcan didn’t laugh and she froze, “You’re not joking.” 

“No, I’m not. El, I- fuck, I know this really fucks everything up–”

“Yeah!” she cried, standing up to walk around the tiny space behind her desk. “It does, what the fuck, Lorcan? Am I going to be killed? Are you?” 

“I don’t know.” 

“Well, how long do we have to leave for?”

“I don’t know.” 

“Fine, where are we going?” 

“Terrasen.”

Elide collapsed into her seat, rubbing her forehead, “I really hate your job.” 

Lorcan chuckled and the sound had her perking up just a bit. “I know, princess. I’m sorry.”

She waved her hand dismissively and then asked, her voice small and quiet, “How much danger are we in?” He didn’t answer and after a few moments when the silence stretched on and on, Elide thought the call had ended. “L, are you still there?” 

“I’m still here, E. We’re in… a lot of danger. They’re powerful people with too many connections. It’s why we need to leave.”

“When.”

“When, what?” 

“When do we need to leave, Lorcan?” 

“...tomorrow morning. Everyone else is packing.” When she didn’t say a thing, he spoke again, “El, baby?”

“Yeah,” she said, staring at the coffee ring on one of the student’s papers. “I have a thesis review tomorrow, Lor. I’ve been preparing for months, I need to be there. Can we go after, please?” 

Elide waited as Lorcan contemplated, tears aching in her throat. This was not how her life was supposed to go. She didn’t want to be on the run. “We can do it. I’ll meet you after, and we’ll go, alright?” 

She hesitated, not sure what she was agreeing to if she said yes. “I don’t know. I just- I don’t understand. What if something happens and- what am I supposed to do, I have things here, in Varese. Aelin is here, my friends are here. I don’t… I don’t know, L.” 

“I know it doesn’t make any sense and I don’t know what you’re thinking, but do you trust me?”  

Elide didn’t need to think before she answered, “Yes.” 

There was a smile in his voice when Lorcan replied, “Then that’s all there is to it, for now. I’ll see you at home.” 

“Ok, then. Love you,” she whispered, smiling softly to herself. 

“Love you too, El.” 

+*+*+*+*+*+*

Everyone else had left Vaughan’s, except for him and Nehemia. Lorcan stalked back into the living room and dropped onto the couch. He snapped the cheap burner phone it two and tossed both the pieces on the coffee table. 

Nehemia was in the kitchen, making coffee for them both. “How’d it go?” 

“Fine. She has a meeting tomorrow, so I’ll book the later flights,” he said, staring at the wall. “I checked the safe house in Orynth - it hasn’t been used in a decade and they’ve disabled the alarms.” 

Nehemia padded over to him and passed him one of the coffees before sitting in the armchair, her legs curled beneath her. The kitchen light played off the golden cuffs in her Fulani braids as she tilted her head back against the chair. “We have to tell her, Lorcan.” 

He didn’t say a word. 

+*+*+*+*+*+*

When he got home, Elide was curled up on the couch, watching an animated movie on the flatscreen. It was warm and cozy, the fireplace lit and casting heat around the apartment. 

His girlfriend paused the movie and turned to look at him, smiling brightly, “Hi.” 

Lorcan hung up his jacket and loosened his tie before walking over to her. “What are you watching?” 

“Atlantis: The Lost Empire,” she said, turning back to the movie and pressing pay. “Do you want to watch with me?” 

“‘Course I do,” he scoffed, tipping her chin back with his fingers to kiss her deeply. She made a soft sound and smiled against his lips, causing him to pull back. “I’m gonna change, but I’ll be right back.” 

Her gaze had already strayed to the screen and she nodded absentmindedly, waving him off, “Go, go.” 

Lorcan chuckled and walked up to their room, swapping out his black suit and shirt for a pair of sweats and a t-shirt. When he walked back downstairs, Elide was on the phone, her voice chirping and bubbly. 

He made a face at her phone voice and she flipped him off, narrowing her eyes in that way that said, Don’t you dare make me laugh right now. Laughing, he sauntered over to the couch and flopped onto it, stretching across it lengthwise. 

Lorcan resumed the movie, making a note to thank Elide for the choice - he hadn’t watched this movie in ages. It reminded him of those rainy days, the only ones he spent inside during his childhood. 

Their mother’s room was the only room with enough electricity to power their clunky and boxy television, so all four of them - Lorcan, Vaughan, Aneha, and Sadirah - would pile on Odette’s bed and watch the few VHS they owned. 

A petite body joined his, fitting perfectly against his side. Lorcan dropped his arm to wrap it around Elide and she rested her head against his chest. “I ordered Chinese. They said it would take thirty minutes.” 

He hummed, idly rubbing her arm. Without taking his eyes off the television, Lorcan asked her, “Do you want to talk about it?” 

“About what?” 

He sighed through his nose, “El.” 

She rolled onto her side, burying her face in his shirt. “Don’t worry, I packed and told Darrow that I needed to take a leave. It’s… tomorrow, everything changes. I want one normal night. Just a boy and a girl, watching old Disney movies and eating shitty takeout, ok?”

Lorcan nodded, dipping to rest his chin on her head, “Ok.” 

+*+*+*+*+*+*

They watched Atlantis: The Lost Empire, the movie just wrapping up when Malakai buzzed to say that their takeout had arrived. 

When Malakai had found out that Lorcan was, in fact, very much alive, there had been a long hug, followed by a vicious beration. Lorcan had never looked smaller. 

“Rock, paper, scissors,” said Elide. “Best of three and no cheating.” 

Lorcan smirked, crossing his arms over his chest. He didn’t miss the way her gaze strayed to his ink-covered biceps and waggled his eyebrows at her, delighting in the blush she couldn’t stop. “Do we really need to resort to rock, paper, scissors to decide who has to go get the food?” 

“Oh, are you volunteering?” 

“Fuck no, let’s go, Lochan,” he said. 

Forty-five seconds later, Elide was snickering as he grabbed his wallet and shook his head. “You cheated.” 

She just shrugged and waved him off, already choosing a new movie. “The Princess Diaries or Clueless?” 

“If it’s not The Princess Diaries: Two, I’ll cry,” he replied, putting his slides on before he ducked out to the elevator, her laughter following him. 

Apparently, Elide had ordered enough to feed a small army, or he and the boys. Lorcan was carefully balancing it all as he kicked the door shut behind him. 

Elide had opened a bottle of whiskey and there was a glass waiting for him on the island. 

She turned to him and clapped her hands, popping off the couch to race over to him. Elide was humming as she took the bags and unpacked it all, eyes gleaming. 

Lorcan leaned against the island and grabbed his glass, taking a sip and whistling, “Shit, you opened the good shit.” 

Elide snorted, gesturing to the bottle on the coffee table, “I know my whiskey, Salvaterre.” 

“You really are the perfect woman,” he said, meaning every word. 

Her cheeks pinked prettily and she clicked her tongue as she opened the lids, stacking them on the side, “Charmer.” She grabbed the bamboo chopsticks and the hot sauce packets. “Do you want chopsticks or a fork?” 

Lorcan drew back in offence, “I know how to use chopsticks, princess.” At her disbelieving look, he rolled his eyes, “I do, but maybe…” he took another sip of the amber liquor before putting the glass down, leaning close to her and whispering seductively, “you could teach me, hmm?” 

She laughed, pushing him away and shaking her head. “That is the weirdest way you’ve ever tried to hit on me.” 

“You’ve been hit on in weirder ways than chopstick lessons?” 

“You’d be surprised,” Elide said dryly, rolling her eyes, “what a nice pair of tits will have men saying.” 

Lorcan’s eyes dropped to her chest in her crop top and hummed, sucking on his teeth, “Mm, they are nice.” 

“Pig,” she hissed, putting her hand over his face and shoving him back. “Play nice.” 

“I always play nice with your tits, baby,” Lorcan purred, his lazy smile only growing when she shot him a glare that would have made Hellas’ fiery realm freeze over. 

“Say one more thing and you’ll never get to play with them ever again.” 

He chuckled and held his hands up in surrender, slowly backing away to the cabinets. Elide could barely hide her smile as he passed her a plate and they piled food on their plates before walking back to the couch. 

Lorcan grabbed the whiskey bottle and sat down next to her, the pair quickly becoming lost in their own world of shitty takeout, Disney movies, and expensive alcohol. 

After the Princess Diaries were done, they played rock, paper, scissors once more to decide between… Lorcan couldn’t remember. 

The bottle lay empty on the carpet and his vision was blurred. Elide was giggling softly, her eyes bright, “Alrigh… alright, hol’ on, ok? We gotta… we gotta go on one, two, three!” 

Lorcan laughed and shook his head, “No, no, we gotta sleep. Remember? We’re leaving tomorrow.” 

“Oh, yeah,” Elide said, “‘cause someone wants to kill us.” She laughed, smiling brightly. 

“I don’t even know why,” he complained, lying back on the floor. “We’re really nice.” 

“And pretty.” 

“The prettiest,” Lorcan confirmed. With a heavy sigh, he slowly got to his feet and hoisted Elide over his shoulder. She shrieked and wiggled until he smacked her ass, her cries of protest melting into an over-the-top, teasing moan. 

“Oh, hit me harder,” she begged, voice high and breathy. “Please, sir.”

Lorcan shook his head at her, “Disgusting. No more talking from you.” 

She giggled again and braced her elbow on his back, propping her chin up on her fist. “You got a nice ass, Salvaterre.” 

He snorted, “Yours ain’t too bad either, princess.” 

Elide hummed and stayed still for the rest of the trip, her thoughts becoming more mellow, as opposed to jumpy, wild things. 

They were more like a fog now, settling heavy over her mind. 

And then, there was the ugly thought, the one she had only thought of once, just one time before banishing it to the depths of her brain. 

Lorcan placed Elide down and brushed her hair from her eyes. 

She gave him a lazy smile, trailing her elegant fingertips over his full lips. “You know what, Lorcan?” 

“What, Elide?” 

“I have a secret,” she whispered, her eyes shining with something, he couldn’t place it. “It’s a… a doozy, as they say.” 

Lorcan laughed, flopping down beside her. “Tell me.” 

“Sometimes,” she murmured, now running a finger up and down the straight bridge of his nose, “I wish I never met you.” 

The words, those horrible words, hit him like a blow to the gut and Lorcan breathed out slowly. “Hmm.” He shut his eyes to stop Elide from seeing the pain in them. “That’s…” 

“It’s awful, isn’t it?” she hummed, glancing out the window to the moon beyond it. 

Lorcan didn’t respond, but he was still awake as Elide fell into a deep, inebriated sleep. 

I wish I never met me either, Elide.

+*+*+*+*+*+*

an: well.....looks like the gang is going on a road trip ! 

@mythicaitt​​ @tinywolfofeyllwe​​ @schmlip-scribble​​ @the-regal-warrior​​ @empire-of-wildfire​​ @rhysands-highlady​​ @ttakeitbacknoww​​ @shyvioletcat​​ @alifletcher2012​​ @tswaney17​​ @ourbooksuniverse​​ e @flora-and-fae​​ @thesirenwashere​​ @queenofxhearts​​ @maastrash​​ @mynewdreamwasyou​​ @cursebreaker29​​ @empress-ofbloodshed​​ @b00kworm​​ @hizqueen4life​​ @silversprings98​​ @amren-courtofdreams​​​ @minaidss​​ @superspiritfestival​​ @lovemollywho​​ @queen-of-glass​​ @jlinez​​ @sleeping-and-books​​ @ireallyshouldsleeprn​​ @verypaleninja​​ @januarystears​​ @magicalunicorngypsy​​ @sis-it-dont-add-up​

[reifromrfa]

FluffWeek: Day 2 | Nightmare

I didn’t mean to write for day 2 but inspiration hit and BAM, this fic was born! I hope you guys like this short fluffy story about one of the most complex yet beloved characters in the MM fandom! 

»»————-　♡　————-««

Endless Sky | Saeran x MC

He lets out a loud cry and kicks the blankets, startling you awake. Immediately, you're by his side, stroking his face and shaking his shoulders.

"Saeran...Saeran, love, it's not real. You're dreaming."

His face is contorted in pain and there's a sheen of sweat on his forehead, his neck. You lean forward and brush your lips against his cheeks, kissing him as you mutter, "My love, come back to me. I'm here, I'm right here. Listen to my voice and open your eyes...those eyes I love so much. Please wake up, Saeran."

As though bidden, his eyes fly open with a gasp. Before you could fully lean back and look at him, you feel his hands grabbing your arms, gripping you tightly. You let out a gasp of your own as he pushes you down on the mattress, fingers sinking into your skin. But you don't flinch, not wanting to worry him. Instead, you look into his eyes as calmly as you can, even though your heart is hurting --hurting, because the one you love is in pain.

Saeran's eyes are wide, a wild look in them. There's fear and panic and confusion in those mint orbs, a chaotic swirl of emotions. He's panting, searching your face frantically, as though he's trying to remember who you are and where he is. Despite his hold, you move your hand and let your fingers stroke his arm soothingly. Your lips part and Saeran's eyes lock onto them.

"Love, you're safe now. You're safe here...with me."

Slowly, Saeran's breathing evens out. His shoulders relax and his eyes focus on yours, his gaze softening.

"MC."

His hold on you loosens and his hands move to your face, cupping your cheeks. There's a broken look on his face as he leans down and takes your lips in his, a sadness to his kiss that you wish desperately to take from him...

Saeran sighs as he feels your arms around him, deepening the kiss. In his dreams, you were both back there...in that place. And the Sav--that woman...she had you. He thought he knew pain before, but at the mere thought of seeing you in danger, being put in a position where he can't do anything to help you...

But we are not weak.

No...no, we're not. She's here, she's with me.

She's our princess...we won't let anything happen to her.

Saeran hears you moan softly, your fingers clutching his shirt as he continues kissing you. Yes, you're here....his love, his MC. He pulls away from the kiss and presses his forehead against yours, taking deep breaths. He can feel your breath tickling his cheek as you pants softly, your cheeks tinted pink, red lips slightly parted. He gently strokes your cheek with the back of his fingers and Saeran lets out a shuddering breath.

"You're here."

"Yes. Yes, Saeran. I'm here, I'll always be here." You places your hands on his cheeks and give him a small smile. "You came back to me."

Saeran nods, tears filling his eyes.

"I'll always come back to you. You are my home now."

But his words are lodged in his throat. Your smile widens and you wipe away the tears that spill from his eyes. Saeran pulls you to him and holds you close, burying his face in your hair. Hands stroking his back, you envelop him in your arms and kiss the side of his head.

You stay like that for a while, immobile, nestled in the warmth of the other. But as Saeran's tears stop and his body relaxes, you smile at him and sit up.

"Where are you going?" Saeran's hand tightens around yours.

"Follow me, Saeran." You reach for your sweater and pull it around you, then hand him his sweater. Giving you a curious look, Saeran slips his arms into the sweater and follows you wordlessly. He doesn't let go of your hand but you have no complaints; you love the feel of his warm, slender fingers intertwined with yours.

Together, the two of you walk to the front door of the cabin. You pass Saeyoung, asleep on the couch with the glow of his laptop screen illuminating his features. Vanderwood is sitting on the couch, arms crossed, head lolling to the side. You had all decided to come here for the weekend to get some fresh air, but of course those two had stayed up late --Saeyoung, working on his latest toy design and Vanderwood, enjoying a weekend off work as Jumin's bodyguard. You press your finger to your lips and glance at Saeran and see the side of his lips twitch as his gaze lands on his older twin. Silently, you open the front door and step outside.

The cool air washes away any trace of sleep you have and you shudder. Saeran tenses when he feels the cold breeze but you tug his hand forward. He closes the door behind him and silently grabs your shoulders and faces you to him. His fingers make quick work of buttoning your sweater and you feel your heart pounding hard against your chest.

"Saeran, I'm okay," you whisper to him.

"You can't catch a cold." He mutters, before taking your hand again and pulling you forward.

From the sound of your shoes against the wooden floorboards of the porch to the soft footfalls against the grassy field in front of the cabin, you close your eyes and fill your lungs with air. You tilt your head up and when you open your eyes, the starry night sky greets you.

Saeran can't take his eyes off you. Even with tousled hair, you look beautiful. Now, bathed in the moonlight...you truly look like an angel, sent down from heaven to find him. Save him.

"You once told me that you yearned to see the sky when you were younger...Saeyoung took you to see them before, right? Well..." Your cheeks grow warm again. "I want to be that for you too, Saeran."

You squeeze his hand gently.

"I want to remind you that you're free. The sky will always be here for you now, love...just like I will."

Saeran looks up at the sky, at the twinkling stars. She's right...of course she is. His nightmares will never become a reality...because he's free now. Mint Eye is no more. He doesn't need to be Unknown or Ray or a Believer anymore...he can simply be Saeran. He no longer hates his brother. He doesn't need anyone's permission to go outside...to see the stars.

Saeran breathes in and allows himself to be lost in the moment, to be amazed at how vast the world truly is. When he was young, his world was so small, consisting of the 4 corners of their room. It was Saeyoung who broke those walls and gave him a taste of freedom --introduced him to the taste of delicious ice cream. When he was with Rika, his world grew a little...yet, he was still confined to Magenta's walls, trapped in the horrors that the elixir drowned him in.

Yes...he's been a prisoner for so long.

But now...

Now he's able to stand there and appreciate the stars scattered across the night sky.

Saeran squeezes your hand too, eyes still fixed on the heavens.

"Look, my love," he says in a soft voice. "Look how dark the sky is. It's so big, it feels scary."

Saeran trails off and you turn to look at him, not saying a word. After a while, Saeran speaks once more.

"I...I've never been in a world that wide...a world so big I'd get lost in it. Before this, I was all alone in the darkness. Or I thought I was. I...It was scary in that darkness.  That is, until you came. When you came to me, it was as though a star appeared before me, an angel. You brought light with you, my love, a light that I didn't--I don't want to turn away from, ever.

You freed me, MC. You freed me from that darkness and now, now that I'm looking at this dark sky, I can't help but think...this darkness is different. Because the darkness is surrounded by plenty of stars.

The dark isn't so scary when I have my star with me." He turns to you and a small smiles comes to his lips. "My nightmares are chased away by your radiance, my love. So please, stay by my side forever."

You feel your throat closing up at his words and you don't realize that you're nodding your head, a grin split across your face. "Saeran, of course. There's nowhere else I want to be but here by your side." Closing the small distance, you step to the one you love and throw your arms around his waist, placing your head on his chest. "I love you, I love everything about you. All of us...we each have a dark sky within us. But you're right --if we have our stars with us, then that darkness will become beautiful like the night sky. Because only when the light has gone can stars truly shine."

Saeran's smile broadens and he turns your face to him. "Never stop casting your glow over me, MC."

"Saeran...keep shining for me too, okay?" You touch his cheek and feel his arms wrapping around your waist. He lets out a light laugh.

"It's because of you that I am able to shine again...It's because of you...that now, my sky is endless." Saeran leans in close, lips merely inches away from yours.

"I love you."

-----

From the window, Saeyoung watches you both. He chuckles softly to himself before letting the curtain fall back over the window. He takes out his phone and swipes through the screens, finding what he was looking for. He finally cracked the code for the reset --he finally did it. With one push of a button, he can restart the game...or delete the reset button. Once and for all.

The choice is easy, isn't it?

He grins and presses his finger against the screen.

»»————-　♡　————-««

I’ve always loved Saeran but was nervous to write fics for him because maybe he’s a little relatable. No, I wasn’t drugged by a madwoman and I didn’t start texting a random girl and lure her into the apartment of said madwoman haha. But I think all of us are a little broken inside --maybe all of us have a little bit of Saeran within us. So I hope you guys find the one who’ll shine a light for you in times of darkness :) 

Check out the other prompts for fluffweek on @mmfluffweek​!

» My Masterlist

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[captainmazzic]

Happy Halloween.

So it’s about time I gave a real fucking update instead of just dicking around being cagey about shit. I’ve mentioned a new project repeatedly. So let’s sit down and actually talk about it, friends. Pull up a chair, grab yourself some hot cocoa and strap in. Welcome to Sarc’s emotional roller coaster.

Bear with me. This is hard to talk about for so many reasons, but mostly because I’ve been belittled and ridiculed so many times in my life for liking “cringy” things or wanting to do things that other people think are stupid or childish. I hear the voice of my father telling me to “make something of my life” and “don’t squander your talents”, I hear the voice of my mother telling me I have “so much potential” and “one day I hope you get some ambition”, I hear the voice of my ex telling me to “stop wasting time with stupid shit” and “nobody is interested in failures”. I hear old teachers telling me honor roll students should go to college and study high-demand majors and anything else would be lazy and detrimental and won’t contribute anything worthwhile to society.

It’s the same shit that prevented me for a long time from posting art online. From posting writing online. From making ocs and showing them to other people. And now it’s preventing me from starting this project, and I’m so, so tired of it.

My biggest fear right now is that once I start talking about this project I’ll lose this tiny little community of people vaguely interested in my stuff that have somehow stuck around. External validation and sharing the things I love are my primary motivations with everything I do online, and while screaming into the void is all well and good, I need feedback and interaction and community. I need it so, so badly. I wouldn’t post jack shit – ever – if I didn’t need that, to be honest.

So anyway.

When the pandemic kicked into high gear earlier this year I got laid off for a few months. It gave me a lot of time to think about who I am and where I wanted to be in life, what mattered to me, what dreams I still had and which ones had fallen by the wayside.

Some of them are huge – once upon a time I was very religious. I went through seminary, got my minister’s certification, and was slated to be an associate pastor in a mega-church and rake in a six-figure income within 3 years. But I lost my faith and couldn’t stand the idea of being disingenuous.

And there was also a time when I received a full-ride scholarship to a very prestigious university that would have spanned a 12-year program and resulted in me having several doctorates and masters degrees by the end of it, in the fields of geology, palaeontology, and cladistics. But the scholarship program that was supposed to sponsor me went bankrupt the very semester I was supposed to capitalize on it. I was still accepted into the school, but the $1.2 million price tag would have all been out of my own pocket. So obviously that didn’t happen.

Those were the “acceptable” dreams. Those were the ones that parents and teachers and the general outside world approved of and thought were worthy goals. But neither of them panned out, and all I have left are the cringy ones. Like homesteading and sustainable living (can’t start without land, can’t have land without money). Like making comic books and doing art commissions for a living (it has to be steady to support myself, and I’m far too slow an artist for things to be steady). And like… playing video games.

Ha.

What’s funny is I can already envision the eyerolls and hear the snorts of laughter. What kind of dream is that? Only a handful of famous youtubers and twitch celebrities play video games for a living, and breaking into a field like that is pretty much impossible unless you already have friends in famous places.

Yeah, but… it would be so much fun. Right?

It WOULD be fun. I don’t have to become a super popular celebrity for it to be fun, right?

I don’t have to make it my day job and rake in piles of cash for it to be fun, right?

… I don’t have to actually be successful for it to be fun… right?

… Right?

:/

… I love video games.

I’ve loved them ever since I tried and failed so many times to win The Empire Strikes Back on Atari 2600. I’ve loved them ever since I played Mortal Kombat with my cousin in his basement with the sound down super low because it was ultra-violent and I would have been in so much trouble if mom caught me playing it. I’ve loved them ever since I tried and failed to finish Strife and Hexen and Heretic without the computer crashing and rebooting to DOS. I’ve loved them ever since I had to cheat-code my way through Jedi Knight: Dark Forces II just to get past the first boss fight but then no-clipped through the wall and died anyway. I still love that game.

But I stopped playing video games for a very long time. I was intimidated out of them by an ex and a somewhat toxic friend group who were Real Gamers™. I was brought to LAN parties but not allowed to play, because I slowed down the team and didn’t know the controls. I was banned from commenting on other people’s moves or cheering people on because it was distracting and I could cost them a win. I was even kicked out of their online D&D campaigns because I couldn’t be serious enough or roleplay well enough for their standards. Even if I was playing a game on my own, I couldn’t play with anyone else in the house because I’d be ridiculed for dying a lot, or for going the wrong way, or for picking the wrong game because only certain games are “good” and most of the ones I wanted to play were “stupid” or “trash” or a “waste of time”.

That kind of thing sits with me for a very, very long time. I didn’t really play games at all for over a decade. Even after I ended up on the opposite side of the country, with a new circle of friends, I couldn’t bring myself to play much of anything.

And then I had an extended visit with a friend of mine, and he introduced me to an early version of a ridiculous little game called Minecraft. My friend was an avid gamer but also a very kind one. In the ten years before this, I had told myself that I just preferred to watch other people play games instead of playing them myself (a lie. I mean, I absolutely adore watching other people play, but I also want to play too lol), my friend saw through that and very gently encouraged me to take a stab at playing Minecraft myself. He moved his laptop over to me, and I played a whole ten minutes with him watching before my nerves failed me and I promptly died. But miraculously it wasn’t a big deal to him. It was just a game. I might have cried in relief, I don’t remember.

After my visit I shelved playing video games for like another year, despite buying a whole mess of them because other friends online loved certain titles and wanted to talk about them with me. (I never played them, just bought them. I couldn’t even handle the thought of playing by myself in my own house). But for some reason I mentioned to my brother-in-law my old visit to my Minecraft-loving friend, and he just… up and bought the game for me. My brother-in-law is also an avid gamer with a lovely and patient disposition, and he suggested I just play in creative mode and build things to start. So I did that (behind a locked door in the RV that I lived in by myself, with the lights off and the sound down low) and Minecraft was my sole video game for another several years.

Then a couple years ago another friend of mine (hi Char) introduced me to Star Wars: The Old Republic, and I fell in love. It sparked a renewed interest in video games that I thought I would never really have the opportunity to satisfy, because games were still intimidating.

Let me clarify: I… SUCK. At video games. I’m terrible at them. Learning controls is a nightmare and a tunicate evolving its own brain would learn faster than me. If I’m aiming, I can’t hit the broad side of a barn. I have the direction sense of a whirligig beetle on the back of a drunk pigeon. I die fast and I die often. I can count the number of games I’ve actually finished on one hand. Even less if we don’t count the ones I had to use cheat codes to get through. But none of that diminishes my love of experiencing them, and over this whole pandemic and quarantine thing I’ve had a lot of time to unpack and mull over my thoughts and feelings and passions about them.

… I moved my RV to a new spot literally the day before the lockdown in my state first initiated. Before this I was in a spot that had no internet other than what reception I could get on my phone, with severely limited bandwidth and patchy, unreliable service. The new spot has a steady wi-fi connection, and while upload speed is utter shit, downloading and streaming video are just this side of manageable. So I spent the first three months of the quarantine lockdown doing pretty much nothing other than watching Jacksepticeye, CrankGameplays, and Markiplier play video games on YouTube. (I honestly had no idea before this that people even did let’s plays. My internet access/speed has been shit for so long I’m totally out of the loop).

It… for fear of sounding utterly stupid yet again, it inspired me.

Like. These people really love what they’re doing. They just. Play video games and have fun with it, and I mean yeah they make money hand-over-fist doing it but the main thing is they HAVE FUN doing it. They have fun! Playing video games! In front of people! It’s wild. And the thing that REALLY got me was… they have feedback on it too. They have a COMMUNITY. They have people they can talk to about it. They have people that they can play games WITH, even, who don’t yell at them or tell them they suck every five minutes or tell them they can’t play with them because they’re worthless as teammates. They can fuck up in a game and their friends are laughing along with them on Discord instead of screaming at them to get it right or get out. They can play games by themselves in their house and then upload videos on the internet and then they can talk to other people about it! They have fun! It’s awesome! They have fun!!

I just. It meant so much to me. It meant so much to me to see these videos of these three, and then another dozen or so that I’ve followed since, play all these games and have such a good time and also be such a positive and kind and encouraging source of energy.

I know all of this is not exactly about video games specifically. It’s about coming to terms with how I’ve been treated as a person and as a friend, about how other people respect someone’s interests and passions, about how it’s okay to share your interests with other people and it’s okay to like things that other people might not care about or think are important.

And I’m so, so tired of not doing the things I love because I’m afraid of what other people will think.

So I, uh. I invested all of the stimulus money I had into a new rig and equipment like a camera, lighting, acoustic panels, all that shit. I dug out all the games I bought but never played, I made accounts on all the big gaming services like Steam and Itch.io and GoG, and I made a YouTube channel. And I’m going to be making my own let’s plays. And it will suck, and it will be cringy and awkward and badly done, and it won’t make me money or be a valid career option or be anything but another very expensive hobby, but it will be mine, and it will be something I can share with people and (hopefully) have fun with, and it will (hopefully) be an avenue for some of this positive social interaction I’m craving.

I know YouTube can be toxic and super negative and full of trolls and cancel culture fanatics and people just waiting to find something to tear you down for, but like. Come on, y’all. I’m posting this on tumblr dot com. Toxic is everywhere anyway. I just want to try, you know?

I just want to love video games again.

Someone famous that I look up to so, so much told me – without knowing that I was even listening, without even knowing that I even exist – that if I enjoy doing something, to just go for it. To just jump in and do it, and if it works then it works, and if it doesn’t, what have I actually lost?

And I’m lucky enough to have four whole offline friends that I’ve mentioned this idea to, and each of them has said encouraging things like I’d have a good voice and face and style for making let’s plays. I honestly don’t know how true that part is, but on my good days I believe them. And they also said that I should go for it, to just try.

So that’s… that’s what I’m doing, I guess. I just want to try.

I know it’s not Star Wars fanart. I know it’s not Star Wars fanfiction. I know it’s not Star Wars meta or essays or ranting about the Sith and the Jedi and the Force. I know it’s not what y’all want from me. And that’s utterly terrifying. I’m bracing myself to be alone on the internet again, because I know that when I dive headfirst into this thing, it’ll eat away into the time that I normally might be spending doing writing or art, and it’s going to be something no one else wants to see and no one signed up for. And that’s partly why it’s taken me so very, very long to get started.

The other part is more physical. Of course as soon as I decide that I’m going to put my face on a camera is when my entire face goes to shit. I’m currently waiting on a potential diagnosis for mouth cancer, while already dealing with a severe jaw infection that’s causing my teeth and gums to rot inside my mouth. They already took part of my jaw, I’m missing teeth, others are turning black, if I open my mouth even just a little it is so obvious and I look like a very, very literal zombie. I have never been more grateful that masks are socially acceptable. I have a series of twelve appointments scheduled to treat this shit now that I have dental and health insurance (goodbye paycheque), and I might qualify for reconstruction surgery too. But that doesn’t really help how I look right now.

So I just can’t bring myself to start this project just yet. I’ve been sitting on it for months now with all the other pieces in place, but I just. Can’t. Start. It’s driving me crazy, because I want to start so badly. I feel like I’m wasting time. I feel like I’ve already wasted so much time, because I haven’t even done anything else in the meantime. I haven’t done hardly any art or fanfic, nothing. My anxiety is spiking so high right now because I have all these expectations of myself, but I can’t do anything about it. I’ve been told that I could just start without a camera or wear a mask on screen, and I’ve actually done some recording doing exactly that, but I just… can’t seem to make anything I want to finalize.

It’s also frustrating because I have no way of uploading anything at home. I’ll have to go over to my partner’s house which is nearly an hour’s drive away in order to get internet good enough to upload videos, which means that upload schedules are going to be shiiiiiit and that’s also frustrating.

But. But. BUT. I want to do this.

I want to do this so badly. I want to share let’s plays and experience a love of video games with other people. I want to actually play games with other people too. I also just acquired a piano keyboard, and I want to play again on the regular because I miss it so much. I used to play piano for hours every single day, it’s so relaxing and fun, maybe I can post that too. Maybe I can post let’s draws or something, where I ask y’all what to draw and then make a video of me drawing it while bullshitting to the camera I don’t know it sounds like fun. Maybe I can post videos of my cooking because the shit I make seems to be everyone’s favourite thing on instagram, and maybe I can take my camera with me when I go to the ocean or hike up into the middle of nowhere in the mountains and film how beautiful everything is up there. Or maybe I can do none of that and just focus on one thing, I honestly have no idea what I’m doing or how to do it, but I just… I want to try. I just want to try.

I don’t know where any of this is going anymore. I’m sorry I haven’t responded to messages, or opened up commissions. I’m sorry that this isn’t what y’all wanted. I’m still going to continue drawing and writing, I’m still going to be around, I’m not going anywhere, but I have no idea how prolific I’m going to be and I have no idea even when I’ll start uploading videos, to be honest. But I just. I’m just gonna try. It might still take me a while but I’m gonna try. Wish me luck. I love y’all.

[wheresmynaya]

Lopez’s 8 Ch.5 | Brittana

A lot of Miguel was listened to during the making of this chapter so take that as you will LOL. Happy Friday! 

Also available on ff.net (x) ao3 (x) & below the cut!

Later that week, Santana and Brittany are seated at the dining table looking over headshots of the two guards that have been tasked to accompany the Toussaint out of Cartier. They both have very impressive backgrounds which worries Brittany.

“It says here this guy has worked for the Queen,” Santana reads aloud. Her expression is unreadable while Brittany’s jaw drops.

“Like the Queen of England?”

“Yup.”

“Fuck.”

Santana smirks, hearing Britt drop the F-bomb never quite loses it’s effect on her.

“I knew this was going to happen,” Santana assures her, “Cartier is as predictable as they are ridiculously expensive. I’ve got this.”

“I know you do, but still. This is the big leagues we’re dealing with,” Brittany replies, “You can’t just distract these guys with a flirty smile. It works on me, but I doubt it’ll work on them.”

Santana chuckles before reaching out to hold Brittany’s hand. She gives it a little squeeze as she says, “I’ve got something a little more effective in mind. Don’t worry, B. You said it yourself, I can get us out of anything if I have to."

Albeit, she’s still a little nervous though even with a plan in place. For as long as she’s been doing this, she’s found that the nerves are always there, especially when there’s a ton of money involved. Without the nerves to keep her on her toes, she can get complacent and mistakes can be made.

But with so much at stake here, there’s no time for that.

Brittany glances down at their hands folded together on top of the table. It’s something she hasn’t seen too often, it’s something more intimate than what she’s used to.  

A moment later, Quinn’s sliding open the heavy loft door and the sound of it has Santana and Brittany quickly pulling away. Quinn’s looking exactly how Santana would picture a suburban mom dressing if she worked at Vogue with her stripped J.Crew sweater – that looks itchy as hell by the way – paired with a suede pencil skirt and clunky clogs.

She’s fashionable, Santana gives her that, but she’d never get caught out in public with all that on.

“Look who rooted through Emma’s closet,” Santana teases as Quinn slips out of her raincoat and puts it away.

Upon hearing her name, Emma looks up from her work bench and glances over to Quinn. There’s an approving smile on her face as Quinn walks over to Santana and Brittany.

“Very cute. I love the shoes with that sweater, but I don’t recognize it? Are you sure it came from my closet?” Emma questions.

Santana and Brittany snicker as Quinn cuts them with a glare before turning to Emma, “No. This is actually mine.”

“Oh! Well then,” Emma tilts her head to the side, noting the outfit once more, before turning back to her work.

“Why am I not surprised by that?” Santana chuckles before taking a sip of her beer.

Quinn just shakes her head and joins them at the table. Brittany leans back in her chair so she can grab a bottle for Quinn too.

“How’d it go?” Santana asks while Quinn twists off the top, “We got the scan of the seating chart you sent. Thanks, by the way.”

Quinn bows her head before taking a sip. Since getting into Vogue, Quinn’s intel has been vital in the execution of the heist. She’s like their own personal inside-woman and she’s getting all sorts of important information. The seating chart has been the highlight of the week so far.

“I noticed there’s an empty spot at the table next to Rachel Berry,” Santana points out.

“Yeah, you hear anything about who her date will be?” Brittany asks Quinn, “How soon do they need to lock in the seating chart?”

“As soon as possible from what I’ve heard,” Quinn replies, “But I haven’t come across anything about who her escort could be. The girl goes through dates like there’s no tomorrow so I’m surprised it’s still up in the air.”

“You don’t have any idea either?” Brittany asks Santana.

The brunette shakes her head slowly, “Nope. None. I figured she would’ve chosen by now too.”

Quinn catches something off about Santana’s statement, but sips on her beer just to observe them. She’s worked with the pair for years, she knows their quirks and she can read them nearly as good as they can read each other. So when she sees the slight twitch in Santana’s upper lip, she knows that she’s telling a lie.

But to Brittany? That doesn’t make sense.

“I hope it’s Finn Hudson,” Brittany giggles, “Those T-Rex eating the Jew memes were hilarious!”

Santana chuckles along with her, “Hilarious. We’ll see what happens.”

“Well good work, Q!” Brittany praises as stands to stretch, “I’m gonna head to bed.”

“Thanks Britt,” Quinn smiles, “Goodnight.”

Santana says the same before Brittany presses a kiss to the top of her head. She swoons but the feeling gets a little watered down as Brittany kisses the top of Quinn’s head too before she walks off.

Quinn just smirks as she watches Santana slowly green with jealousy.

“Shut up,” Santana growls.

Quinn just laughs,” I didn’t say anything! You know, people wouldn’t think you two are dating if you guys didn’t act like you were dating.”

Santana rolls her eyes, “Right. Well people should also mind their own damn business but I see I’m still waiting for that to happen too.”

“You’ll be waiting awhile for that one,” Quinn jokes but then she lowers her voice as she grows serious again, “You have an idea for Rachel’s date?”

Santana smirks behind her beer bottle, “Yeah. You.”

Quinn’s eyes go wide, “What? Are you serious? As if you don’t have me doing everything already. How would that even work? I’d need to – “

“Woah. Calm down, Lucy Q.”

Quinn glares back with her voice threateningly low, “Don’t call me that.”

Santana’s not fazed, “I’m joking. I do have an idea, but I can’t talk about it here.”

Her eyes drift off to where Emma sits at her station and Sugar’s over on the couch playing some game on her phone. Mercedes is over in the other corner too on her laptop and only God knows what she can hear from there.

“We need to talk somewhere private,” Santana says cryptically.

Quinn’s intrigued, “I’m off tomorrow. Let’s do coffee then?”

“Perfect.”

\\

Santana and Quinn decide to stay somewhat close by to the loft for their coffee date. They find a tall table by the back window and slide up on the stools. It’s not too busy for a Saturday morning so the two don’t have to wait long before a server stops by and takes their coffee orders. They make small talk until their coffees are brought over, not wanting to be interrupted once they get on to the serious topics.

“So what’s with all the secrecy?” Quinn questions after taking a sip of her latte.

Santana wipes away chocolate powder from her lip and shrugs, “I’ve made sure that everyone only knows what they need to in order to complete this job and I want to keep it that way.”

“Okay?”

“So you’ll have to make this look like Rachel Berry was the one who decided to pick her as her escort.”

Quinn’s even more confused and asks, “Who?”

“Dani.”

It takes her a moment for the name to sink in but then Quinn’s eyes bug out as she slumps back in her stool, “Dani? As in your ex-girlfriend, Dani?”

“That’s right,” Santana answers confidently before taking another sip of her coffee.

Quinn lets out a chuckle in disbelief, “Why in the hell would you bring her into this, Santana?”

“Why not? You’ve seen the tabloids, you know how painful it is to be within a two-foot radius of Rachel Berry. It would bring me so much joy knowing that Dani is out there suffering from an excruciating dinner with that woman. Nothing would make me happier actually. You and I both know the bitch has it coming anyway.”

Quinn doesn’t look too convinced, “Why do I feel like there’s something bigger going on here?”

“Because you like blowing things out of proportion?” Santana tries to deflect.

“No. I don’t think that’s it,” Quinn shakes her head and laughs, “I know you. You’ve got ulterior motives.”

Santana scoffs at the assumption but choses to stay quiet.

Quinn eyes her carefully, “Does Brittany know about this?”

Santana lets out a huff, “I don’t need to run everything by her. I’m the HBIC of this heist.”

The blonde smirks, seeing a crack in Santana’s front, “She wouldn’t approve, would she? That’s why you didn’t tell her. That’s why we had to come all the way over here to talk about it.”

Santana sips her coffee, trying collect her thoughts. The thing she loves and hates about Quinn is how fucking smart she is, the girl’s deductive skills are on point! When Quinn’s using them for the benefit of the team it’s great, but when she’s targeting Santana? Not good at all.

“Listen, I didn’t involve Britt because she’s dealing with other things and she hates Dani’s guts and you know Britt doesn’t hate anyone. If she got wind of this, she’d probably try to fuck with her hair or something ridiculous. We can’t have her distracted by trying to make Dani’s night a living hell,” Santana explains, “This has to stay between us and you have to make it look like Rachel Berry was the one who put this in motion.”

“Hmm,” Quinn hums as she rotates her latte glass in her hands. Santana’s putting her in a really questionable situation because at some point, Brittany’s going to find out and when she does, shit’s going to hit the fan. She shakes her head again and sighs, “I don’t know about this. It doesn’t seem right to leave Britt out.”

“Q, come on. Since when did you suddenly develop a moral code?” Santana questions, “If we put Dani in, at least it’s familiar territory.”

“For you, maybe.”

“Exactly. We can’t risk putting someone else in there that could jeopardize the heist. For the most part, Dani’s a puppy dog. She’ll just follow Rachel Berry around. She won’t get in the way, but we can’t say the same if someone else becomes the date. Just imagine if it really was Finn Hudson in there? He’s a dope but we don’t know him, we don’t know what he might do. Same with St. James and Puckerman, they’re loose units and we can’t afford to try our luck here.”

“You’ve put some thought into this,” Quinn points out, “You’ve always wanted Dani to be Rachel Berry’s date.”

Santana shrugs, opting to hold her cards close to her chest, “Like I said, everyone only knows enough in order to get their job done. All you need to know is that Dani has to be Rachel Berry’s escort and you need to make it look like she decided that. Will you organize this or you gonna make me do it myself?”

Quinn eyes her curiously, “And how would you do that?”

Santana sits back in her chair with her chin raised, “Don’t apply logic to Lopez.”

It takes her a moment but Quinn finally answers, “Fine. I’ll work on it.”

“Thank you,” Santana says with the bow of her head.

“But I’m not going to be the one to tell Brittany. That’s all you and you should do it before she finds out first,” Quinn warns, “The worse thing you can do is leave her out of this.”

“Yeah yeah, I know,” Santana brushes off.

“Seriously Santana,” Quinn takes a stern tone, “This won’t be good if you half-ass it.”

“I’ll sort it out, Mom. Don’t worry,” Santana says earnestly, “You just focus on getting Dani in good with Rachel Berry. It should be easy, they’re both full of themselves so they’ll have lots in common.”

Quinn’s already feeling uneasy about this, but she agrees anyway. All she can do now is hope that Santana isn’t a complete idiot and actually communicates her plans to Brittany first.

\\

They’re heading back to the car after they’ve finished up their coffees when Quinn asks, “So I’ve got a question.”

“Do I even want to know?” Santana grumbles.

“Considering I’m doing you a huge favor, yes.”

“Fine, what’s your question?”

“How the hell does The Great Santana Lopez, daughter of the infamous bandit Hector Lopez, wind up in jail?”

Santana knew Quinn was itching to ask that specific question, as is everyone. In fact, she’s actually surprised Quinn hasn’t asked sooner. Santana keeps it casual thought and replies, “I got caught up with the wrong woman.”

“Yeah, I got that much.”

Santana brushes off the sass, “I met Dani around the time Brittany and I were sort of hitting a rough patch. She was this musician at bar I frequented. She bought me a drink one night and we hit off. A few weeks later, she approached me with this hypothetical and I ran with it. We made a ton of money, but she was soft. I knew I should’ve bolted at the first sign of it, but I didn’t. I don’t know why. I guess I thought I could handle it?” Santana averts her gaze and pauses a moment before continuing, “When we got caught, she broke under pressure and threw me under the bus. I went down for everything and she barely got a slap on the wrist. The end.”

“What’s with the short version?” Quinn looks surprised as they get into the car, “I know the bare minimum about this woman. If you’re roping me into something that’ll potentially have Brittany on both of our asses you’re going to have to give me more than that.”

Santana rolls her eyes and sighs as she starts the car, “God, okay.”

\\

In the time that it takes for Santana to fill Quinn in on everything she’s missed regarding her involvement with Dani and her life in jail, they’re just around the corner from the loft.

“Shit Santana,” Quinn frowns, “I’m sorry. Dani seems so up herself, couldn’t imagine you with someone like that.”

Santana shrugs, “It happened, it’s whatever. Karma’s a bitch apparently, so I’m not worried. I’ll have my fun when she has to sit through dinner with Rachel Berry.”

“Right,” Quinn chuckles and after a pause she asks, “So you two were dating back then? You and Brittany?”

“What? No,” Santana laughs nervously.

“But you said you hit a rough patch?”

“Yeah, in our work,” Santana says and it’s not a complete lie, “Besides, sex isn’t dating.”

Quinn cocks her head to the side, “Did Brittany know that?”

It should be a simple answer, but Santana’s words get caught coming out.

She and Brittany never really talked about what was going on between them back then. There was this unspoken understanding that it was just casual sex between friends, they weren’t an item or anything serious. It would be something that would bite Santana in the ass one day, but you try being that close to Brittany without developing some kind of feelings for the woman.

Plus it’s Brittany, Santana knows how she is. She flirts and teases and everything’s a joke when it’s not about their work. There’s nothing serious behind her words. It took a long time, but Santana gets that now. She just wish she would’ve gotten it a bit sooner than later.

“We were partners…in crime,” Santana finally answers as they pull up to the loft, “That’s all we were and that’s all we are now.”

Brittany’s in the garage with the door open talking to Sugar when they spot the Range Rover pulling up. Brittany’s got her overalls on this time so she must’ve been working on something out there. They wave to Santana and Quinn and move out of the way so that Santana can park inside.

“Didn’t look like it from where I was standing,” Quinn says, “Then or now.”  

“Of course you’d say that,” Santana sighs, “What’d it look like then? Enlighten me.”

“More than just a friends with benefits type of situation.”

Santana grits her teeth, “Well it wasn’t that. There were no feelings involved.”

Quinn’s brows furrow, “None?”

“None,” Santana lies.

Quinn rolls her eyes, “I don’t believe you.” She doesn’t wait to hear Santana’s snarky reply before she’s climbing out of the car.

Santana’s quick behind her though, “Why? Because I don’t need to have feelings for someone I’m having sex with? Because I don’t believe in settling down and doing the whole Desperate Housewives thing like you?”

They’ve grabbed Brittany and Sugar’s attention and the two watch on the sidelines as Santana and Quinn continue like they aren’t there.

Quinn rounds on her, “Is that what you think a real relationship looks like? No wonder you’re afraid of them.”

“I’m not afraid of them. I just spent the last hour talking about one!” Santana snaps but Quinn doesn’t look convinced, “You always want there to be this grand romance or something like we’re in a damn Hallmark movie, but it’s not like that. Life’s not like that. Things don’t always go your way especially when it comes to love and that’s just how it is.”

Quinn looks surprised, but she isn’t the only one.

Brittany watches from where she stands with this contemplative look on her face. She knows Santana can be pretty closed off when it comes to how she feels – it’s something that she’s gotten used to over the years – but that might’ve been the first time she heard just how pessimistic Santana really is.

Santana’s so caught up in Quinn poking at her that she doesn’t even notice.

“Damn Lopez, who hurt you?” Quinn asks half-heartedly.

“Well, the last woman I was sort of dating did send me to jail…” Santana jokes bitterly.

Instead of winding Santana back up again, Quinn just shakes her head and turns to greet Brittany and Sugar before heading inside. They smile in reply and Sugar trails after Quinn, not wanting to be around Santana when there’s steam coming off of her.

Brittany just goes over to the sink to wash the grease off of her hands. She can feel a storm brewing the longer Santana lingers and she wants to give all of her attention.

“You believe her? She pops out a kid and gets married and now she suddenly thinks she knows everything,” Santana rants as she throws her hands up in the air.

Brittany turns and goes to dry her hands, “She’s always been a know-it-all. Why do you sound so surprised?”

“Because it’s so annoying,” Santana grumbles before crossing her arms and walking over to lean against Brittany’s work bench, “Like if I wanted her to tell me something about myself I’d fucking ask.”

“Totally,” Brittany shrugs and goes to stand next to Santana, “But we kinda like her, right?”

“Jury’s out on that one.”

Brittany chuckles, “Come on, she’s been a great friend over the years. Remember that one time she punched that guy because he was being a prick to us?”

“Yeah, I remember. She broke his nose and we all got thrown out of the club,” Santana’s smile falls into a glare, “She ruined our night out.”

“I don’t know,” Brittany smiles sweetly, “I remember you being pretty proud of her.”

Santana ponders the memory and starts to smile. It was a wild night out for sure and seeing Quinn fly across the bar fist first like that in her frilly sundress was such an experience. They may have gotten thrown out of the club but she can’t lie and say it really ruined their night.

“She’s got her moments,” Brittany adds as she bumps their shoulders together, “You have to at least admit that.”

“I guess she does,” Santana agrees as she leans into Brittany.

Their hips are touching as they look out at the garage: there are a couple expensive models that are parked by the Range Rover plus Brittany’s motorcycle. It’s a quaint collection and Brittany uses that in attempt to change the subject before Santana winds herself up even further.

“I’m surprised you didn’t take the Fastback today,” Brittany says.

“I know you just waxed it,” Santana shrugs, “I didn’t want to dirty it up.”

“I wouldn’t have minded,” Brittany replies as they look over to the ‘67 Mustang Fastback in all it’s shiny jet-black glory, “I do it for you anyway. Can’t have you out there behind the wheel of something dirty, no matter what the songs say.”

Santana cracks a smile, “I don’t think Ridin’ Dirty is quite that literal, Britt.”

Brittany just shrugs, happy that she could at least make Santana smile even if it was a goofy joke.

“You know,” Santana says as she glances up at her, “You could’ve gotten a lot of money for that one if you would’ve sold it. It’s a classic.”

“I know,” Brittany nods, “But the Schuester Dealership job was an important one for us. It was our biggest one in awhile. I wanted a souvenir I guess.”

Santana remembers that dry spell all too well. The shitty cons they were pulling at the bingo hall weren’t scratching that itch, but they couldn’t come up with anything new either. It was a pretty rough time for them, but then Santana spotted the Fastback and it was like inspiration struck.

“Plus, you love that car,” Brittany says, “You came up with the entire heist just because you loved it so much. I couldn’t just sell it.”

Santana smiles in gratitude, “It’s a nice one for sure,”

Lifting cars wasn’t really her thing – it was more so something her father dabbled in – but an opportunity arose and she just had to try her hand. It was a complete success! That day, she and Brittany walked away with seven cars including the Fastback. They were on cloud nine, completely ecstatic for finally pulling themselves out of that rut the had been stuck in for weeks.

Santana also remembers how that day ended too and decides to push that memory far, far away. Instead, she thinks back on the super hot sex that took place in the backseat of the Fastback because thinking about sex always seems to make things better. Plus, she’s sensitive in more ways than one so she can’t help but reminisce.

After a moment Brittany feels it’s safe to ask, “So what were you and Quinn talking about before that got your feathers so ruffled up?”

It’s a little bit of a mood killer, but Santana answers her, “Just filling her in on the past. She didn’t really know much about what went on between me and Dani.”

“Lucky her,” Brittany jokes as she pushes from the work bench, “Glad I missed that conversation.”

Santana fails to hide her smile as she watches Brittany almost sulk away.

Maybe sulk isn’t the right word because that would imply that Brittany feels some type of way about it all and apparently she doesn’t. Santana just has to know what the real reason is behind Brittany’s tone, because she’s so use to hearing her say one thing when she actually means another. Santana’s been pretty guilty of that as well, but this isn’t about her.

It’s about Brittany and what she isn’t saying.

“Why do you always do that?” Santana’s words tumble out and it surprises her how easy the fall. It’s a question that she’s been begging to ask but she hasn’t had the guts; apparently she has them now.

“Do what?” Brittany questions but Santana spots uneasiness in her usual confident partner in crime. It makes her own confidence grow.

“The whole jealous ex thing,” Santana presses further, “It’s cute and all but I don’t get it. You say you aren’t jealous but I don’t know, your actions say something totally different.”

“I’m not jealous and I’m not one of your exes so that doesn’t really apply to me,” Brittany corrects before simply saying, “As your friend, I just don’t like her, never did. You know that.”

The way she says friend hits Santana differently than it usually does. That’s what they are – technically – but Quinn doesn’t react in the same way that Brittany does whenever Dani’s brought up and they’re friends too. Something doesn’t add up so Santana’s curiosity gets the best of her.

“Yeah, but I don’t know. You took that stance well before I even told you that we were sort of together,” Santana says but then there’s this playful glint in her eye as she smirks, “Is there something else going on?”

Brittany remains silent and Santana takes that as a win and presses further, “Could it be that you can’t stand the thought of me being with someone else?”

It’s bold of her to ask and she probably wouldn’t ever say something like that if it weren’t for the sudden boost of confidence she got from calling Brittany out for being jealous.

Brittany narrows her eyes at the question, also surprised by the sudden boldness.

The look makes all the annoyance brought on by Quinn earlier suddenly disappear for Santana. She’s got Brittany right where she wants her now. The teasing and flirting is familiar territory for them and there’s comfort in that. Even if she’s not going to pull the answer from Brittany this time, she’s going to at least rile her up a little for her efforts.

“Could it have something to do with someone else being able to do all the things you think only you can?” Santana asks, her voice low and raspy, “Because that’s exactly what I think it is.”

Brittany shivers at the accusation but finds herself leaning in, “Careful Santana, that’s a brave statement you’re making.”

Santana smiles back challengingly, “Is it?”

“It is,” Brittany husks. She takes a daring step closer, backing Santana further against the work bench.

“Tell me I’m wrong then?” When Santana’s met with silence again, her smirk deepens, “Tell me you weren’t just a little jealous of her.”

Brittany stands her ground and cocks a brow at her, but she doesn’t say a word.

Santana lets out a laugh, “You can’t, can you?”

Brittany looks back with this steely gaze and tries to fight the smile that threatens to form. This is what Santana does. She thinks she has the upper hand and gets really confident about that while Brittany merely waits her turn so she can show her who the real boss is.

Sometimes though, Brittany can’t tell if that’s exactly what Santana wants her to do.  

“You and I both know how good I can make you feel,” Brittany responds as she settles her hands on Santana’s hips, “Or have you forgotten?”

Santana hasn’t forgotten a thing – sometimes it’s like the only thing she can remember – but she keeps up with cocky smile for as long as she can, “You didn’t answer my question.”

“You didn’t answer mine either,” Brittany smirks.

“Maybe?” Santana replies, “It’s been awhile, my memory is a little fuzzy.”

Brittany chuckles but it’s throaty and it sounds so sexy especially when she starts to trail her hands up and down Santana’s sides. There’s something dark and needy about the way Brittany stares down at her as she asks, “Should I remind you?”

Everything in Santana screams yes, a million times yes, but she can’t give up just yet. She has lasted this long, no use in caving now.

Brittany seems to have other ideas in mind though.

“That’s what you want, right? You want me to remind you,” Brittany grins devilishly as she presses up against Santana. She’s trapping her against the work bench, holding her in place as she continues, “See, I know what you’re doing. You’re trying so hard to rope me into this just like you always do, teasing me until I break.”

Santana sucks in a shaky breath. With Brittany this close to her now, everything’s going a little foggy. She can smell the peppermint on her breath and her soft lips are just right there. All she has to do is lean in.

“Is it working?” Santana asks with her eyes glued to Brittany’s mouth. She watches her lips form the words like she’s hypnotized.

“It always works,” Brittany says with a chuckle, “But you like the build up too much for me to do anything about it just yet.”

Santana swallows dryly. God, Brittany knows her so damn well. She knows just how to work her up to the point of no return. This is more than just a teasing game now, they both know exactly where this is headed.

“It’s okay,” Brittany whispers hotly against Santana’s cheek, “I’ll play along.”

The way the words fall sends a shiver up Santana’s spine.  

“Because I know exactly how you like it, baby,” Brittany says and if it were anyone else calling her that, Santana would cringe but it sounds so good when it’s Brittany.

Then again, Santana’s sure she’d let Brittany call her almost anything with the way she’s staring at her right now. She’s looking at Santana like she’s a whole meal and she’s ready to eat!

She loves when Brittany’s like this – like she’s trying to stake her claim or something – and maybe that’s why Santana was never truly annoyed by her reaction to Dani. Maybe she kept Dani around because it was the only time she could catch a glimpse of how Brittany really felt about her?

But that’s just another maybe, Santana’s head is full of those.

“Did Dani?” Brittany challenges as she comes to stare Santana down but – judging by the look on Santana’s face – she knows the answer already, She’s not stopping though. If a reminder is what Santana needs, she’ll be all too willing to give her that.

“Did she know how to make your back arch with just her tongue?” Brittany adds and Santana feels her heart rate spike.

Apparently Brittany’s trying to kill her today.

She leans in closer so that her lips are just brushing the shell of Santana’s ear while she husks, “Did she have you calling out her name like you’ve called out mine?”

Santana swallows thickly as her thighs clench together.

It’s the wrong move because just that little bit of friction has her biting her lip at the sensation. Sex with Dani was good, but it wasn’t anything compared to the connection she had with Brittany and it sounds like the blonde knows that.

Brittany smirks at Santana’s continued silence, “You leave scratches down her back too? You ever beg her to keep going because it felt so good and you didn’t ever want her to stop?”

Santana’s griping the work bench so hard that she could probably break off chunks of wood if she really put her mind to it. All she wants to do is to reach out and touch Brittany, but she doesn’t want to give her the satisfaction of caving first.

And maybe she’s a little bit of a glutton for punishment. Maybe she likes to see how long she can wait, how long she can hold out?

Even if the whole silent approach isn’t really working for her, Brittany’s got her wrapped around her pinky and Santana’s not sure if that’s entirely a bad thing or not.

“Yeah, I bet she didn’t,” Brittany says as her hands glide up Santana’s back, “You know how I know that?”

“How?” The sound of her own voice surprises Santana, but Brittany’s got her hooked now and she’s hanging on every word.

“Because she’s not me,” Brittany says simply as she leans in and nudges Santana’s nose with the tip of hers, “She doesn’t know every inch of you like I do. She can’t drive you crazy like I can. She wouldn’t even know where to begin.”

Brittany’s so damn right, but Santana tries to regain some control here regardless, “I don’t know, Britt, you’re not the only one in the world who can make me come.”

Brittany’s taken aback by the statement and Santana knows the moment the words leave her that she’s really in for it this time. Brittany knows Santana’s right, but no one has made Santana come the way that she can. She’s not like any of those other girls Santana has been with and somewhere deep down, Santana knows that too.

“That’s where you’re wrong. It’s not just about getting you off. It’s more than that for me. I’ve heard every one of your sexy little moans, Santana,” Brittany tells her, “Hell, I know when you’re wet without even touching you.”

Santana licks her lips as Brittany pulls away with that same hungry look in her eye.

“Like right now,” Brittany adds as she glances down Santana’s body then lifts her gaze to met darkened brown eyes, “I bet you’re soaked.”

“I’m not,” Santana tries to hang onto the last bit of dignity and matches Brittany’s heated gaze.

“So sure of yourself?” Brittany smirks beneath hooded eyes, “Show me then.”

Never one to back down, Santana pulls Brittany’s hand out from behind her and guides her down, down, down until she feels her warm fingers caressing her inner thigh.

She’s thanking the Gods above for deciding to wear a loose fitting skirt because Brittany’s able to move without being so restricted. Although, she’s pretty accustomed to that as well considering Santana’s wardrobe of skin tight everything.

When the pads of Brittany’s fingers press against Santana’s covered center, Santana can’t help but let out a whimper at the feel. God, she’s already so damn sensitive. The feeling only intensifies as Brittany starts to run her fingers along the damp silk there. She can feel how wet she is – even with the barrier in the way – and it has Brittany licking her lips.

“Liar,” Brittany husks, “You’re dripping.”

“Whoops,” Santana replies with a sexy smirk, “My mistake.”

Brittany lets loose another throaty chuckle. The things Santana does to her…she’d do anything right now to be inside. To have Santana literally in the palm of her hand like this after she’s waited so long for it, she wants nothing more than to have her in every way imaginable.

Her fingers are still gliding back and forth at a slow but steady pace and there’s this trance setting in again as Brittany asks, “This all for me?”

“Yeah,” Santana moans helplessly. Her body is all a buzz just waiting for Brittany to do something. All resolve has gone out the window now along with her dumb rules about holding out. She needs this, she needs Brittany in however way she decides to take her.

Santana’s past caring now, she’s that desperate.

“Look at you,” Brittany mumbles and goes to rest her forehead against Santana’s. They’re both looking down at where Brittany’s hand is slowly moving along Santana’s center, “So wet.”

Santana wants nothing more than to rip the skirt away completely just so that she can watch how Brittany glides through her.

“What should I do?” Brittany starts to make lazy circles, her fingertips bumping Santana’s clit every so often.

The feel makes Santana squirm. She needs more of Brittany but every time she rolls her hips into her, the woman eases her touch. She’s teasing her again, she’s wanting Santana to beg for it. She wants Santana to be so turned on that she can’t think about anything else but this.

Honestly, Santana’s not that far off.

When Brittany moves in close again - her nose brushing Santana’s - she says, “Tell me, Santana. What should I do with all this?”

“Fuck,” Santana breathes out raggedly, “Just go inside like–“

She doesn’t finish her sentence but instead takes Brittany’s hand that’s up her skirt and guides it beneath her panties. She doesn’t miss the little moan Brittany releases as soon as she’s met with Santana’s soft, wet heat. She’s so unbelievably turned on right now, she doesn’t care how desperate this is making her look.

“Oh my God,” Brittany’s voice is gravely as she takes a single digit and runs it through Santana’s slickness.

“Inside,” Santana whimpers as her hips start to move in time with Brittany’s rhythm, “I need more.”

“Okay San,” Brittany whispers before pressing their lips together for a searing kiss. She does her best to swallow Santana’s moans as she sinks into her easily with two fingers.

It’s the best feeling in the entire world and it’s just like Brittany remembered: tight, wet and so damn hot.

Santana grabs onto Brittany – one hand settles on the back of her neck while the other digs into her hip – and she really wishes they had moved somewhere a little more private because anyone who happened to walk past would definitely catch an eyeful.

There’s also the possibility of someone inside the loft coming out to the garage and catching them in the act, but with the way Brittany’s pumping into her…giving a fuck is becoming a distant memory.

“Feels so good,” Santana groans against Brittany’s mouth and she’s already embarrassingly close but you can’t really blame her because it has been a long time since she was with another woman.

Plus, Brittany has some talented fingers.  

She’s already hitting that spot she knows Santana loves because the girl lets out a, “Don’t st – fuck!”

“Someone’s going to hear if you keep that up,” Brittany warns playfully against her ear before taking the lobe between her teeth for a light nip, “You want everyone coming out here? See how wet you are for me?”

Santana wants to roll her eyes at the smug tone, but she really can’t. She’s completely at Brittany’s mercy right now, so she tries her hardest to keep quiet.

“I’m not going to stop,” Brittany tells her and uses the pad of her thumb to press a little at Santana’s sensitive clit.

Santana’s knees are starting to shake as she trembles in Brittany’s arms. She’s not sure how long she can keep herself standing if Brittany keeps this up.

The blonde must feel that too and swiftly lifts Santana onto the work bench for some relief. The change in position has Brittany hitting that spot a little deeper than before and Santana’s throws her head back at the feel of it.

“Britt!” Santana cries out, momentarily forgetting the whole thing about being quiet as she rocks against Brittany’s hand, “Just like that.”

Brittany pulls back and smirks at the sight of Santana spread open on her work bench with that sexy face of hers – the one she makes when she’s lost in the chase – and Brittany tries hard to commit the scene to her memory. She’s not going to want to forget this and it’ll definitely make working out here a lot easier.

“Like this?” Brittany accentuates each word with a harder thrust, “This how you want me?”

She doesn’t wait for an answer, just uses her free hand to press against the small of Santana’s back to get her to move in time with her pumps. Santana takes the hint and let’s Brittany guide her hips while the blonde dives back in to suck kisses at her neck.

“You’re so sexy,” Brittany mumbles, letting her lips brush against the sensitive spot beneath Santana’s ear. She tastes like sweat and something that’s entirely Santana, Brittany can’t get enough of her.

“I’m so close,” Santana whines and threads her fingers through Brittany’s hair to hold her where she is. The feel of Brittany’s lips on her skin pressing soft kisses behind nips has Santana’s blunt nails scraping at the back of Brittany’s scalp. It’s too much and too little all at once.

God, why did she put this off for so long? How could she have gone this long without Brittany making her feel like this?

Santana starts grinding back against Brittany and the motion causes the work bench to bang against the wall in time to the roll of her hips.

And it’s loud.

She should really stop before the sound alerts the others and they’re caught, but she’s too far gone. She’s needs release and she needs it now.

But nothing ruins an orgasm like an unwanted interruption, so Brittany pulls out –  much to Santana’s protest – and quickly lifts Santana again and lays her down on the next best flat service which happens to be the hood of the Fastback.

She’s quick to get back to work because she knows how long Santana’s waited for this and – as much as she’d love to take her time – she’s had enough of the teasing game. When she sinks back into Santana they both let out a moan at the feel of soft, smooth skin and tight heat.

Everything Brittany said before – about all the little ways she knows Santana – she’s backing up now because every curl of her fingers, every dirty word whispered drives Santana a little closer to the edge. It is truly something only Brittany’s capable of and she’s proving it now.  

“You’re so good at this,” Santana whimpers and the compliment makes Brittany smirk before she leans in for a sensual kiss. It’s all tongue and teeth and when Santana surprises Brittany with a hard nip at her bottom lip, Brittany let’s out a moan of her own.

“Fuck Santana,” Brittany breathes out as she pulls away.

There’s this sexy, lust-filled look on Santana’s face and she looks so damn pleased to see Brittany a flushed mess too. She tries valiantly to pull her head from the clouds though and focus on keeping up with her rhythm: in and out, in and out, in and –

“Holy shit!” Santana groans as her head falls back against the hood. She’s so desperate for Brittany’s touch that she feels herself tightening around slender fingers.

“Careful,” Brittany coos as she presses into Santana, taking her free hand to smooth over the side of her head. It’s gentle, a little too gentle for Santana’s liking right now.

“Just keep going,” Santana tells her and Brittany does just that.  

With Brittany pressing flush against her, Santana’s able to hook her heels around the backs of Brittany’s thighs while the blonde continues to pump in and out. She’s missed this so fucking much, the way Brittany takes care of her is like no other and Santana loves it. She loves that she doesn’t have to train Brittany on how to fuck her, she just knows.

“You gonna come for me, baby?” Brittany asks after a particularly loud moan. There’s that word again too sending shivers all over Santana’s body. Why doesn’t it sound as good when someone else calls her baby? It never did when Dani called her that, so why can she hear it when it’s Brittany?

Deep down, she knows why.

“Mhmm,” The brunette nods and starts to pick up the pace, meeting Brittany thrust for thrust. She feels like a rubber band about to snap she’s that wound up, but she isn’t slowing down. She rocks in time with Brittany’s rhythm, just riding her fingers like there’s no tomorrow.  

“That’s my girl,” Brittany smirks and winds her free arm around Santana’s waist to hold her in place.

My girl she said and the sound of it shoots a jolt of arousal through Santana’s whole body. To be Brittany’s, that’s something she wouldn’t have expected. She tries not to put too much thought into it though because they’ve both been known to say things they usually don’t when they’re swept up in the moment.

Santana reminds herself that this isn’t anything more than a much-needed fuck, no need to read between the lines. Plus she’s clenching so tight around Brittany’s fingers that she can’t really think of anything else right now. Her hips have decide to do whatever they want and just jut up uncontrollably, chasing that release.  

She can feel how wet she is as Brittany delves in and out. She can’t even hear herself but she just knows Brittany’s name is falling from her lips in ragged breaths like it’s the only word she can remember.

Brittany notices the signs and pulls Santana up, holding her close as she continues to pump into her. Santana wraps her arms around Brittany’s shoulders as their body press so impossibly close together. She’s hanging on for dear life while the muscles in Brittany’s forearm begins to burn from the exertion.

Santana pants into the crook of Brittany’s neck, “Fuck Britt, I’m gonna…”

“I got you,” Brittany says softly in reply.

With another thrust, Santana’s falling apart right then and there. Brittany is quick to cover Santana’s mouth with her own, hoping to muffle the sounds of her whines as she let’s Santana ride out the aftershocks.

Everything’s a blur as Santana’s body tenses. She makes a mental note to never hold out on Brittany ever again because this feeling is too much to go so long without. Hell, she’s sure she’s close to blacking out, but she’s so glad she hasn’t because then she would’ve missed this look Brittany’s giving her.

It’s soft mixed with that familiar hunger and something else she doesn’t quite recognize. It quickly morphs into something devious as Brittany pulls out her glistening fingers and slowly slides them into her mouth.

She keeps eye contact with Santana as she licks them clean, humming at the very taste of the woman beneath her coating her digits.

Santana can already feel herself building again at the sight.  

“You’re in big trouble,” Santana pants behind a smirk, watching Brittany’s talented tongue glide along her index finger before it disappears again in her mouth.

“Me?” Brittany asks innocently as she releases her fingers with a pop.

“Yeah, you,” Santana’s heart is pounding as the throb between her legs intensifies.

“Why? I just gave you a mind blowing orgasm,” Brittany responds sweetly, “You should really thank me.”

Santana just narrows her eyes on the girl, imagining what she wants to do to her first, “Once I regain the feeling in my legs…game over.”

“I hope so,” Brittany winks before leaning down to press a chaste kiss to Santana’s lips. Santana can taste herself there and it makes her moan while Brittany says, “I’m planning on riding your tongue at some point tonight.”

Santana’s jaw drops at the bluntness as Brittany helps her to stand on shaky legs.

“Either that or maybe I want you to ride mine? We’ll see. I’m open to suggestions but I’m definitely not done with you yet,” Brittany grins sweetly before turning away to head inside, “I’m going for a long shower. You can join me if you want.”

Santana’s just left standing there thinking that maybe Brittany isn’t the only one here that’s in big trouble. Then again, she’s not too surprised. Trouble always manages to find her somehow.

[withteeths]

Maybe Steamrolling Games is Bad Actually

Videogames are unique in that they are inextricably tied to corporatism and have been since birth (this is an oversimplification but roll with it). This means that to an extent most companies even since the ’80s have never really cared about proper preservation or easy access to their titles. Nintendo carts were originally manufactured to have their battery die in 3 years so you would have to buy a new one (this failed, but it’s why you still see a lot of dead carts floating around). I think there's a nostalgia issue within the gaming fandom regarding "oh x was great back then" but a lot of the time, games manufacturers have been historically shitty and anti-consumer and it’s just that they now have the tools to execute it much more effectively. Regarding obtrusive DRM, that’s an issue PC games have had since their zenith, where if you lost your original copy of a manual or a small plastic key you could never play a game again because the codes were individualized for each copy and support would refuse to give you a new one. Even back in the arcades, there were particularly batshit examples like the CPS board, which I shit you not was built to explode a battery pack filled with corrosive acid if it detected you were attempting to repair or modify it. There’s a lot to say about the current state of games but what I would likely illustrate is that 2/3 major consoles are racing to decide who will be obsolete first. Games consoles are reaching a point where they are trying to emulate PCs with more restrictions and DRM. We're already seeing interest in steam spike again and it’s likely that eventually, we will see almost a crash for consoles where no one can justify the price for games they can play on a PC rig. The only solution I see there would be a merger between the two consoles which feels inevitable. 

That being said as interest in the PC space increases again so does attempts at entering the bubble. We have Epic, Origin, Microsoft, Indiegala, Itchio, and Steam all vying for attention, requiring accounts, and offering exclusives to justify the use of their storefront over others. Some people think this is a good thing because it's breaking up Steam's monopoly but it literally is not, if you ever really wanna hear me rant ask me about Leftist obsession with itch being some sort of ethical steam, which it is provably not. In the end, the real sort of saviour figures that work to preserve games are random ass people on the internet. I know people who automatically assume that at the end of the day, companies care about games preservation too, and they usually have a three-pronged argument that cites a) Steam’s ability to allow the redownloading of delisted games, b) retro companies periodically rereleasing titles for modern consoles in compilations, and c) companies doing limited reruns of a game that fans request. All three of these examples are basically an incredibly effective use of diversionary tactics, but most of the time when someone cites these I just assume it’s a misunderstanding and not outright malicious intent because a lot of the time companies will attempt to actively implant these ideas to build brand loyalty.

My main dissertation is usually that Steam is incredibly selective with what titles you can redownload, and most importantly, corporate benevolence is more-so a band-aid on a gaping wound! There’s no contingency for when Steam might migrate to a new service, go belly up, or become obsolete when a new OS is created. That means thousands, tens of thousands of dollars worth of games are just gone, permanently, along with fan mods, DLC, and content. It’s a terrifying thought that not many people bring up when discussing the problems with game storefronts that focus so much on providing a cloud and have DRM attached to every purchase. In a way, Steam preceded the trend of not allowing consumers to actually own the things they purchased, and they’ve avoided criticism by strategic use of silence and creating the illusion of a company being made by the consumers they’re attempting to serve. At the end of the day, Steam is a business, and if you ever lose access to your Steam account, or they decide to up and leave one day, you will not be able to play almost all of those games, even if you have them installed on a hard drive, because if you’re online, they connect with a server to ensure your steam account has the ability to play them. When it comes to other arguments like the limited rereleases or use of compilations to preserve arcade titles, I usually just beg people to look at community-driven options that have existed for years. The Scott Pilgrim game is a big source of contention, but I would point out that for years now, it was playable, for free, with all the DLC, on PCs. Preservationists didn’t wait for the gods of Universal and O’Malley to rerelease it for 30 bucks or save up to snatch the fucking ridiculous 200$ limited edition with shitty paper cut-outs, they straight up just did the work to make the game free and available. RCPS3 has (with a contemporary build) been able to run the game pretty flawlessly for years now, in fact, it was how I played through a majority of the game in high school on my shitty brick of a laptop. If you look further out than this one example then it gets even better, MAME and other emulation backends have been able to play obscure, unfinished, and homebrew titles with 100% accuracy, on almost any setup, for free, for decades! I found out about many of these options back in 2015 or so, certainly late to the curve, but I never really questioned as to why emulation, games preservation, and some key titles being available on PC remained some sort of arcane, unknown knowledge to most people interested in games. In the end, the answer was a highly effective propaganda campaign that combined with strategic use of DMCA takedowns has resulted in the concept of communal games-preservation and emulation becoming some sort of debate, where people will wholeheartedly side with corporations in some sort of quest for preserving things the “ethical and correct way,” which is code for preservation on the condition that it remains profitable for the IP owners.

 I think the best way to illustrate this would be with the community built around the preservation of an infamous PS4 title, PT. The story of its inevitable delisting from the storefront and the messy breakup between Kojima and Konami is well known, so I won’t regurgitate it, look it up at your own leisure. What is significant here is corporate reactions to attempts at preserving the game, which can basically be boiled down to Konami acting with borderline rabid fervour to prevent redownload, redistribution, or recreation of a seven-year-old demo, released for free download. Mentions of solutions to redownload the game have been taken down, fan-made recreations for PC, and archival servers that store a copy of the game for future preservation or emulation. Usually when this is brought up a debate occurs citing that technically speaking, Konami has a right to do this whenever they want, for whatever piece of media they believe infringes on their copyright. On one hand, yes this argument is factually correct considering the current state of copyright and ownership of media, but on the other hand, what compels someone to step into the ring for a multi-million dollar company with the primary argument being “well actually, people SHOULDN’T be able to play this specific video game until it benefits the shareholders”? In my opinion, it’s some sort of corporatized symbiosis where players believe that, if you cull the bad actors and play by the rules of the company, you may be able to eventually play the game a couple of years down the line. Sure, this has happened in the past with a few isolated cases, but it can’t be stressed enough that this is a genuinely dangerous and reductive position for people to take regarding games preservation.

 I have two colleagues, Mariken and Fotocopiadora, who released a short interactive title called Videopulp (playable here: https://fotocopiadora.itch.io/videopulp). It’s a dramatic reimagining of a real historical event, wherein a promotional event was held in 1994 at Lelystad to destroy bootleg carts by a figure in a Mario costume. This perhaps best encapsulates something I am pleading with younger generations to understand, as an archivist, art historian, and creator: corporations are not your friends, and they never will be. With the rise of online circles of leftism, this concept is starting to gain traction but is starting to be polluted with concepts of fandom and tribalism. This has lead to arguments that while *most* corporations are bad how could you say that about Nintendo? Or Valve? Mario is so innocent and characters like Wheatley are beloved by all! I feel some people don’t realize that they can enjoy a select title or character without enlisting in a corporate faction in the battle for “best company” or “best videogame”. It leads to a parasocial kinship with a nonexistent figure that was hand-crafted to ensure consumer loyalty to a certain brand. It’s depressing, terrifying, and should stand as a disquieting example of how the grip of capitalism on works of art has permanently distorted how we think and engage with media today. So, what’s the solution? As always I can never really provide something concrete that’ll act as a cure-all, only things that people in games need to work towards. Bring up conversations about games preservation, create archives for your own work, support archivists and boost their work whenever a new discovery is created, and try to promote optimism and solidarity in your hobbyist communities. I’ve noticed a lot of futility being intertwined with the future of AAA gaming, use of online storefronts, and the inability to own pieces of media anymore, and I feel this should be pushed back against, even in a minute way. Open-source programmes still exist that allow you to hold on to what you have purchased, offline and ad-free options exist for games launchers, e-readers, and media players. The future isn’t bright, but it is not a place without hope, and as long as people continue to enter communities with passion and ingenuity, I think we have a chance at stopping the events at Lelystad, 1994 from happening again.