#the rest of the year he's just a guy working in retail according to my hc so this might actually be the best part of the year for him | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

silverlightqueen · 4 years

Text

Blood Lust

silverlightqueen’s SKZ Scarefest

vampire!hyunjin x human!reader - smutty smut smut lmao, fluff, a little bit of angst ig, fwb type vibe except the benefits include Hyunjin feeding on y/n lol

Word Count: 10.4k+ (I got carried away, I’m sorry lmao)

Summary - Having a part time job whilst at university is standard, right? Babysitting, bartending, retail, hospitality? Well, y/n’s job is a little… different. Or maybe a lot different. Depends on whether you find being a hot vampire’s personal blood bag weird or not.

Warnings: biting, blood, blood consumption, unrequited love, possessiveness, toxicity in a not-relationship, unprotected sex, intercourse, rough sex and softish sex, softdom!hyunjin x sub!reader, very brief sub!hyunjin, very explicit dirty talk, asphyxiation, slight body worship, fingering, oral sex (m and f receiving), hair pulling, teasing, mouth fucking, begging, praise, hickeys, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, creampie, lots of soft aftercare, sexual and non-sexual nudity, I think that’s it but please let me know if you notice that I missed something!

a/n: and here is the fourth (and my favourite) instalment of my SKZ Scarefest! I had so much fun writing this absolute filth and I hope you guys enjoy reading it! thank you @silverlightprincess for proofreading, I love you! please be sure to check out the previous parts and keep an eye out for the next parts x

taglist: @kodzu-ken @cloudsgathering @silverlightprincess

silverlightqueen navigation

‘Took you long enough,’ Hyunjin says when I answer the door, and I give him an apologetic smile, making my eyes wide the way he can never resist, and I can see him fighting to keep the smile off his face. ‘Sorry. I was just… doing something,’ I say as I move aside to let him in, and he raises an eyebrow, slipping off his shoes. ‘Doing what?’ he asks, suspicious, and I avoid his gaze, locking the door after him. ‘I… um-’ ‘Let me guess. You forgot to have your iron supplements and remembered when I knocked on the door?’ he asks dryly, and I give him a weak smile, making him let out an annoyed huff.

‘y/n, I’m hungry. It’s been over a week,’ he complains, and I roll my eyes, trying to hide how endeared I always get at his complaining – he might be a big bad vampire to his clan, but he’s just a whiny little baby when he’s with me. ‘I’m sorry, Jinnie. It’s hard to remember, because I never used to take them,’ I say in my softest voice, knowing he won’t stay annoyed at me, and he just sighs, heading into the living room of my apartment. ‘And you used to wonder why you fainted all the time,’ he says exasperatedly, throwing himself down on my sofa.

When I first started at university, I was – to put it simply – broke as hell. My student loan funded my school supplies and my travel costs, and the money I earned working at my uncle’s restaurant paid for my driving lessons. I had no spare income to spend on anything else – I was still living with my parents, so I wasn’t homeless or hungry or anything. But I had no money for clothes, or nights out, or… anything other than the basic necessities.

When it got to the start of second year, and my uncle had to close his restaurant because he was getting a few customers a night if he was lucky (at every family gathering, he gets drunk and rambles about how Uber Eats murdered his business), I was desperate; I couldn’t pay for my driving lessons anymore, and I was having to buy a lot more supplies for school. One of my friends, Yeji, knew that I was struggling with money, and decided to confide in me about an arrangement she had with a friend of hers.

Her friend, Chan, was the leader of a vampire clan, she’d told me, and she was his blood donor. They’d meet a couple times a week, and he’d feed on her and pay her for it. I was fascinated – I knew vampires existed, but I never knew one personally, or knew anyone that knew one either, so to hear about Yeji’s arrangement astounded me. According to Yeji, vampires tend to drink from blood bags rather than from humans these days, but they still prefer blood from the source. So when Chan had offhandedly mentioned to Yeji that he was looking for a blood donor, she asked how much he was willing to pay. When she heard, she instantly offered to be his donor, knowing that that much money per feed would fund the rest of her university life after just a couple weeks.

I’d had so many questions for her. When I asked if it hurt, she told me the initial puncture felt a little like an injection, and then after that, she wouldn’t really feel anything other than it being a little uncomfortable to hold her neck at such an awkward angle. It would leave her feeling drowsy and weak, but Chan would feed her a little of his blood, just to strengthen her, and she would feel back to herself within no time. The two little scars on her neck would take a while to fade, but she said they were easy enough to cover up with makeup. I’d heard that being fed on was pleasurable, and almost sexual, but when I mentioned that to Yeji, she grimaced and said that it wasn’t at all like that. For her and Chan, it was a business transaction between good friends, and nothing more.

I was intrigued, to say the least, and I’d gone home that night thinking about the possibility of becoming a blood donor to a vampire. The next day, Yeji had run up to me excitedly, to tell me that one of Chan’s clan members was looking for a donor. Only a week later, I was waiting to meet him at a coffee shop, as though it was a blind date. I felt so nervous, worried that he’d take one look at me and walk straight back out. But the second he walked in and his eyes met mine, my heart stopped.

He was adorable, painfully so – with his soft brown hair falling over his cute glasses, and his light academia boyfriend aesthetic. He looked around my own age, but Yeji had told me that he was, in fact, 318 years old at the time (we celebrated his 320th birthday just a few months ago). He sat down with a shy smile, and I was lost for words. He had none of the pale skin or brooding moody looks or all black outfits – he was quite tanned with a friendly face and dressed in soft neutrals. I couldn’t believe that this harmless looking soft boy was a blood-sucking vampire. There was no way.

He bought us a coffee each, and bought me a caramel shortbread because, he told me shyly, it looked as sweet as me. We spoke for hours, our conversation quickly changing from generic and awkward, to comfortable and deep. I explained how difficult it was to fund life at university without putting pressure on my low-income parents to support me, and he explained his life as a vampire. We left the coffee shop at closing time, Hyunjin insisting on walking me home, and we parted with the decision that I would become his blood donor.

We met again, only a week later, with the same shy smiles and slightly awkward conversation. This time, I’d gone to the house that he shared with some of the clan members, but nobody else was at home. It was just us. We’d slowly worked up to it, and when Hyunjin was stood before me, neck bent so that his mouth brushed against the skin of my throat, I felt relaxed and prepared due to his gentle comforting and support. I tried my hardest not to tense when I felt his fangs puncture my skin, wincing a little at the sharp pain, but before I had time to get used to the feeling of someone drinking my blood, Hyunjin had pulled away, coughing up all my blood over his hoodie.

‘What’s the matter? Are you okay?’ I’d asked, and Hyunjin had wiped at his mouth, face twisted in disgust. ‘y/n, I’m really sorry, but your blood is… gross,’ he’d said bluntly, still coughing between each word. This had hurt more than you’d expect – somehow, it’s not a nice feeling to hear that a vampire finds your blood disgusting enough to cough it all back up. ‘Oh. I’m really sorry,’ I’d said, feeling humiliated, and Hyunjin had waved his hand in the air, swigging down some water. ‘No, don’t apologise. I just… I was just surprised. Do you not know you’re anaemic?’ he’d asked, and I’d blinked at him in surprise. ‘Anaemic?’ I’d echoed, and he’d nodded, an amused smile playing at his lips. ‘Your blood has, like, no iron in it. Drinking your blood was like… drinking bitter coffee. Just how you’d add milk and sugar to coffee, your blood needs iron.’

He’d left me in his room whilst he went to get me some iron supplements, and I’d eaten two of the gummy vitamins when he’d handed them to me. We’d waited for half an hour, and then we’d tried it again, sat on his bed this time. His fangs slid into the two little holes they’d made earlier, not as painful this time around, and he didn’t pull away this time either, instead pulling me closer with his strong arms. It was a weird sensation, not a… nasty one, but just weird. With each hungry gulp he took, I’d felt myself getting drowsier and drowsier, head becoming light, and my eyes slid shut after around thirty seconds.

I’d felt Hyunjin pull away only a few moments after that, and he’d shook me lightly, just to keep me awake. ‘Let me feed you some of my blood,’ he’d murmured gently, lifting his wrist to his mouth and piercing the skin. He’d held his wrist to my mouth then, and I’d gently sucked at his skin, tasting the metallic tang of his blood on my tongue. Seconds later, I felt wide awake, like nothing had happened at all.

For the next year, I went to his house twice a week for a few hours at a time. We’d usually watch a film or play a video game or just sit on our phones together in his room, when he wasn’t drinking my blood, of course. It didn’t take me long to realise he wasn’t exactly the shy soft boy I met that first day. Don’t get me wrong – he was still a little quiet sometimes, awkward and clumsy, a total scaredy cat, and he’d be shy around new people. But after a few weeks, once he was much more comfortable around me, different elements of his personality came out too. He was flirty and bratty and sassy and he could be a total whore – he loved his loose comfy clothes, but he also loved his tighter-than-skin jeans and slightly see-through shirts, leather and silk and expensive cotton blends, in black and navy tones. But he was also sensitive and emotional, thoughtful and sweet. It was soon obvious to me that he was multi-dimensional as a person, complex with so many levels, and I’d wanted nothing more than to get to know them all.

I met the majority of his clan members over that time, and they were all just as nice as Hyunjin. I spent a lot of time with them, because Yeji and our friends were friends with them too. We went to parties together, had a lot of movie nights or ordered takeout together at their clan house, meaning I spent more time with Hyunjin than I did with anyone else, which did nothing for my hopeless crush on him. But I didn’t mind that my attraction to him wasn’t reciprocated because we were slowly becoming best friends.

He was always so careful with me, so gentle, like I was an antique vase or a fine china teacup. He’d hold me close to him with a firm grip, and he’d take slow and steady gulps, never making more than two punctures in my skin when he fed on me. He would never have us sitting in one position for too long or feed on me for more than two minutes at a time – when he was particularly hungry, he’d feed on me three or four times in one sitting, but only for two minutes at a time. When he’d pull away, there was never any blood around his mouth like you see in the films, and no blood staining my neck either. He was clean and careful, always cautious of hurting me, and I was so grateful for that. Sometimes I’d run into Yeji at the house, after Chan had fed on her, and every now and then, she’d have blood all over her neck and shoulder or her clothes and hair would be a mess from Chan losing his composure and being a little rougher with her than usual. I would thank God each time, so lucky that Hyunjin treated me like a fragile doll.

After a year, I’d made enough money from being his donor – or, as Jisung loved to call me, Hyunjin’s personal blood bag – that I could put a deposit down on an apartment. I’d told my parents that I was working as an assistant at an accountancy firm when I didn’t have any lectures or seminars at university, which is why I was making so much money, and that Hyunjin was the only co-worker my own age, which is why I was with him so much. I moved into an apartment block around ten minutes from the clan house, on the same floor as Chaeryeong, and Hyunjin helped me move in. A couple of the other clan boys chipped in too so that, and I quote, ‘you have to let us stay with you when we want a break from the clan’.

Only a month after living at the apartment, I’d woken up in the middle of the night to someone hammering at the door. I’d jumped out of bed, dressed in just a little vest and satin shorts, arms and legs bare, stepping into my slippers as I rushed to the door. I’d had my phone in my hand and had typed in the number for the emergency services, ready to phone them if this was someone trying to rob me, and I’d opened the door carefully. Before I could even process what was going on, Hyunjin had burst in and thrown himself at me, pulling me into his arms and burying his head in my neck, my legs instinctually wrapping around his waist to keep myself steady.

‘Jin, are you oka-’ ‘I’m really fucking drunk, and all I could think about was you, and how hot you are, and how fucking amazing your blood is, and how much I wanna drain you dry, so I ditched the boys because I missed you too fucking much,’ he’d growled in my ear, making my eyes widen in shock and my underwear dampen embarrassingly quickly. He’d chuckled, taking a deep breath, before whispering, ‘judging by the sweet smell coming from your pussy, doll, I think you like the sound of that too.’

He’d kicked the door shut behind him and, with his vamp speed, we were in my bedroom only a few moments later, the vampire boy dropping me onto the bed and climbing over me instantly. ‘Listen, y/n, I’m not exaggerating when I say that I’m really, really drunk. Like… I’m wasted,’ he’d murmured into the skin of my neck, hands roughly trailing up and down the sides of my body. ‘I can tell,’ I’d replied breathlessly, hands tangled into his soft black locks, fluffy and messy around his forehead. ‘Which means… I’m not gonna be able to hold back. I probably won’t be gentle like I always am, because that always takes a lot of self-control, which I don’t… really have at the moment. So if you need me to stop, say… werewolf,’ he’d said against my skin, saying the last word with disdain. The werewolves and vampires had always had a long-standing rivalry, and he was obviously aware that the word would pull him out of any desire-filled reverie.

He hadn’t even given me a moment to reply before he’d sunk his teeth into my neck, rough and harsh, and I’d let out a gasp into his ear, his hands gripping onto my waist. He’d sucked at my neck, drinking my blood desperately, and I could feel it dripping down my shoulder and chest. And usually, when I wouldn’t be able to feel anything because of how gentle he was, all I could feel was pleasure, pure hot pleasure flooding through my veins. It was heavenly, and I’d let out little moans and whimpers into his ear, making him even more desperate, with my hands on his back, nails digging in through his thin white shirt.

It wasn’t long before his big veiny hands were wandering eagerly around my body, one palming at my breast and rolling the hard nipple between his fingertips, the other slipping under my shorts and pressing against my clothed core, my wetness having seeped through my underwear. He’d moved away from my neck and looked down at me with ruby red eyes, his jet black hair a sweaty mess and my blood dripping down his chin in harsh red lines. ‘Fuck, y/n, you’re so fucking hot. You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do this,’ he’d growled, his pointed fangs on full display, making my chest tighten with desire. ‘Can I fuck you, doll? I need you so fucking bad right now,’ he’d asked lowly, hands both stilling against my body, and I’d instantly replied, ‘yes, Hyunjin, please.’

Now, another year later, it’s pretty common that we fuck when he feeds on me. I found out that it was so difficult for him to feed on me as gently as he used to, desperate to just throw me against a wall and drain me of every drop. But when I’d look at him nervously with my ‘big innocent eyes’, he knew he couldn’t hurt me. But that night, we’d found out that messy and rough feeding just felt… so much better. We’d also found out a lot of other things since that night; Hyunjin loves biting me in places other than my neck – my boobs and the insides of my thighs are his personal favourites – and I love it when he’s fucking me and bites me just as I’m about to cum – it heightens the pleasure a thousand times, making me see white and scream his name out like it’s being torn from my throat.

But, to my slight disappointment, sex is all it is. We’re like friends with benefits, but the benefits include feeding on me as well as sex. A lot of other things have changed though. Hyunjin practically lives at the apartment now – he sleeps here 4 or 5 nights a week. It’s like we share the apartment; he’s got as many of his belongings here as I do. I don’t mind it, though. He is pretty much my best friend, so spending time together is enjoyable, even if it means I’m falling more and more for him. Hyunjin’s paid me enough over the past couple years for me to be able to do my master’s degree, and I also managed to get a part time job at the coffee shop where Hyunjin and I first met, so it doesn’t feel like I’m solely relying on the money he gives me (it’s enough to fund me, but I don’t want him to think I’m like his little blood bag and nothing more – I basically am but we won’t talk about that).

This last week, though, I went away with the girls for a little last minute break to Rome (we’d planned to go for two weeks but then we would’ve missed Jackson’s Halloween party in a few days, and it’s already being called the party of the year, so we decided to just go for a week), and so he’s had to drink from blood bags whilst I was gone. He was sending me all these sad snapchats of him pouting with a straw in his mouth, wishing he was drinking from me instead – I think he wanted me to react to it with pity, but instead it was just turning me on. I landed back a couple hours ago, and I forgot to have my iron supplement vitamins when I arrived at the apartment, so he’s right – I had them when he knocked on the door.

I look down at him, sprawled out on his side of the sofa, his black locks a stark contrast against the grey cushions. He looks like such a boyfriend, dressed in a thin white t-shirt and a pair of grey joggers, white socks on his feet, glasses on his face and a silver chain around his neck. He looks up at me with a small grin on his face, eyes scanning my body. ‘You look hot, doll,’ he smirks, and I feel my cheeks heating up. I’m only in comfy travel clothes but he’s looking at me like I’m dressed up to the nines. ‘Thank you, Jin,’ I reply, sitting down beside him and letting him pull my legs across his lap.

‘I’m being serious. You look all glowy. And you’ve tanned a little. Did you have fun?’ he asks, hands skimming up and down my legs. ‘I loved it, Jin. We should go together. Everything was so beautiful. The sights are amazing, the weather is gorgeous, the food is delicious, the people are so lovely. The vibes there are just perfect. You’d love it,’ I tell him, and he just watches me as I speak, a small smile on his plump lips. ‘You’ll have to take me one day, angel,’ he murmurs, and I nod, unable to keep the shy smile from my face.

‘I saw on Ryujin’s story,’ he begins, and I knew this was coming, my heart sinking a little as he continues, ‘that you guys made friends with the people staying in the hotel room next to you. What were they like?’ ‘They were nice. We didn’t actually speak to them ‘til the fourth day, then we had dinner and drinks together on the fifth day, went sightseeing together on the sixth, and shopping together on the seventh. But, yeah, they were okay. They were a bit too… boisterous and noisy for my liking, but the girls got on with them, so I didn’t mind spending time with them,’ I explain honestly, and he just nods, looking like he still has more questions. ‘How many of them were there?’ ‘There were eight boys, and four of them brought their girlfriends. I got along better with their girlfriends than them, to be honest,’ I say lightly, Hyunjin just looking at me unreadably. ‘So you spent a few days in Rome with four single guys?’ he asks, voice tight, and I let out a gentle sigh.

‘Jin, do-’ ‘Answer the question, y/n.’ ‘Yes, we did. Is that a problem, Jin?’ ‘No, y/n, it’s not. Or, at least, it wouldn’t be, if you weren’t covered in a scent that isn’t yours,’ he says evenly, and my eyes widen. ‘I’m covered in someone else’s scent? Well… it must be Yuna’s, because we shared a bed. Or Lia’s – I wore her hoodie on the flight ba-’ ‘No, y/n. I’ve spent enough time with Yuna and Lia to know what they smell like. That’s not the scent on you. You smell like a human boy. So stop lying and tell me why,’ he says, voice tight, and I sigh. ‘Jin, I’m not lying. I didn’t, like, sleep with any of them, if that’s what you’re worried about.’ ‘Then why do you smell like a human boy?’ he asks slowly, obviously trying to keep his composure, and I take a deep breath.

‘I was sat next to one of them on the flight back, and he fell asleep. His head fell on my shoulder a couple times, and I felt bad to wake him up, so I just le-’ ‘You just what, y/n? You let a random human boy sleep on you? Get his scent all over you?’ he demands, hands tightening on my legs and veins protruding from beneath his honey skin. ‘Are you being serious right now, Jin?’ ‘Yes, I am. You can’t just let random human boys get their scent all over you.’ ‘And why not?’ I demand, voice shaky with anger as I take my legs off his lap, and he glares at me. ‘Because I pay you a lot of money to feed on you, and I don’t want anyone else getting near what’s mine,’ he growls, butterflies exploding in my stomach when his eyes glow red.

‘But I’m not yours, Jin. You pay me to feed on me. That’s all. There was no agreement that I would stay away from any other boy!’ I exclaim, shocked at how ridiculous he’s being and trying to ignore how much my body is aching for him, and he scoffs. ‘You don’t need any other boy. I give you all the companionship you need, I fund you so you buy anything you want, and I keep you satisfied. That’s all you need,’ he says simply, and my mouth falls open slightly. ‘What if I wanted a boyfriend? An actual relationship with a boy who loves me?’ I ask, giving him a chance to say what I so want him to say, and his eyes flash momentarily before he says, ‘you don’t want a relationship.’ ‘What if I did?’ ‘We’ll cross that bridge when it comes to it. But, for now, you’re mine, y/n, and you know it. I don’t want you getting any other boys’ scents on you again, understood?’ he asks, and I just stare at him in shock, unable to believe how unreasonably he’s behaving.

He gives me a few seconds to reply and when I don’t, he moves so quickly I don’t even realise what’s happened until he’s hovering over me, my back pressing into the sofa, and his hand is pressed to my throat tightly. ‘I asked you if you understand,’ he says lowly, eyes glowing red and fangs glinting in the mellow light of the lamp, threateningly sharp. ‘No, Jin, I don’t. I don’t understand why I should have to stay away from other boys,’ I whisper, heart nearly beating out of my chest, and he lets out a harsh scoff. ‘Because you don’t need them. You only need me,’ he growls, tightening his grip on my throat, and I let out a little gasp of surprise, already feeling a slight dizziness in my head.

‘You only want me, too,’ he whispers, ducking his head so that his soft lips move against the skin over my collarbones, releasing my throat and moving his hand to hold my waist instead. ‘You think I don’t know that? You think I don’t know how much you want me, doll? You forget how well I know you, much better than you can ever know yourself. I can sense your every thought, your every feeling – I can smell it on you. The way the serotonin rolls off you in waves when you look at me, the way you drip with dopamine when we touch, the way I feel like I’m drunk on your endorphins whenever I’m around. My presence makes you want me, angel, and we both know it,’ he murmurs softly between gentle kisses, fluffy hair tickling against my cheek, and all I can feel, more with each word, is complete and utter humiliation. Never once has he – or any of the other vampires I see on a daily basis – told me that they can do that – can sense humans’ emotions.

He lets out a gentle chuckle, pushing himself up on one forearm to look down at me with a half-smirk. ‘Don’t be embarrassed, doll. I love it – I really fucking love it – that you want me as much as I want you. As much as I’ve always wanted you, since the first moment I set eyes on you. It consumes me, angel, how much I want you,’ he admits, not looking me in the eyes as his hand slowly makes its way up from my waist to brush my hair back from my face, and the butterflies in my stomach are unbearable. ‘How much do you want me?’ I ask without thinking, the words coming out as a whisper, and his eyes flit up to meet mine, both of us silent as I wait for him to speak, hoping to God he’s going to say he wants me just as much as I want him – more than just sexually. ‘More than you can ever know, princess,’ he murmurs, sparkly brown eyes locking with mine, and my heart jumps at the nickname he so rarely calls me – I’m doll every day, angel when he’s in the mood, but I’m only princess every now and then, when his eyes sparkle the way they are now, like he’s looking at the universe and it’s reflected back in those beautiful brown eyes.

‘Let me… let me show you?’ he whispers, the words coming out slightly questioning, and I can’t help the small smile that spreads across my lips, despite not hearing quite what I wanted to. I slide my hand around the back of his neck, fingers pressing into his soft skin as I pull him down to me, eyes sliding shut as his lips meet mine. I never used to understand the hype over kissing. I never had any of the fireworks, the passion, the clashing tongues and teeth like you read in books and see in films. I only ever kissed one boy, once, and it was quite awkward – he practically tried to suck off my face from the get-go, his hands clamped on my shoulders. But Hyunjin, god, is he good at kissing? I could kiss him for the rest of my life, with his soft plump lips and his hands trailing all over my body.

He barely waits a second before parting my lips with his, tongue sliding into my mouth without a moment of hesitation and his big hand pressing against my waist. I tangle my hands into his hair, soft locks sliding between my fingers, and I wrap my legs around his waist, pulling him closer to me, as close as physically possible. Before I even have a chance to start feeling uncomfortable, I feel a rush a movement, and not even a few seconds later, I’m on my bed beneath him, our lips still pressed together.

He turns us over, my body laid on top of his, and I forget momentarily that my weight atop him is nothing in comparison to the kind of weight he can carry. I practically melt into him, my body melding into the curves and contours of his body, fitting us together like puzzle pieces. He slides his hands into my hair, the feeling of his fingers against my scalp making me let out a soft whine. ‘You’re fucking perfect, doll,’ he groans against my lips, my entire body tingling as our mouths move in sync, slow and passionate, not nearly as rushed and desperate as usual. His touches are gentle, careful and tender, where he usually holds me in a bruisingly tight grip, rough and possessive.

I slide my hands under his t-shirt tentatively, and he doesn’t even hesitate to sit up, breaking away from me momentarily as I pull the top over his head, throwing it over my shoulder as he reattaches his lips to mine. I slide my hands over his torso, fingers roaming over the ridges of his hard abs, his skin radiating heat. Vampires might have no circulation but the rumour about them being freezing cold all the time is false – their body temperature automatically regulates to the temperature around them, meaning he’s just as hot as I am right now.

His hands slide under my shirt, and we break apart again for him to pull it over my head, instantly leaning down to suck at the exposed skin of my breasts as he cups them, big hands covering them completely. I let out gentle whines, head falling back, and one of his hands comes to rest at the base of my exposed throat, asserting his dominance – I might be on top of him right now, but we both know who’s in charge here.

He doesn’t wait long before turning us over, kissing me for a few more moments before he climbs off me, standing at the foot of the bed. He gently grabs my ankles, pulling me down the bed, and I let out a gentle giggle, a smile on his face at the sound. He pulls off my socks, momentarily tickling the underside of one foot, and a startled laugh is forced out of me as I kick at his hand to make him stop. He reaches for the drawstring of my joggers with a grin, tugging it open deftly and pulling them down my legs swiftly.

My black underwear isn’t anything special, just a plain cotton bra and my high-waisted comfy granny pants, but his eyes trawl over my body like I’m in the finest lingerie, the bulge in his joggers becoming a little more noticeable, making my mouth water embarrassingly quickly – I could live on my knees for Hyunjin if that’s what he wanted me to do. His eyes meet mine, a small smirk on his lips as he drops to his knees, pulling me further down the bed so that my legs are slung over his broad shoulders, heels resting against his strong back.

His hands grab at my pants, ripping them away from my body effortlessly, reminding me again of just how strong he is – he could literally crush my neck without a single hair of his moving out of place. He spreads my legs further, eyes locked onto my core, and he lets out a gentle groan. ‘Fuck, so wet for me, angel,’ he murmurs, running a finger over my slit, a desperate whimper falling from my lips. ‘I don’t need prepping – just want you, Jin,’ I murmur, and he lets out a gentle chuckle. ‘That’s the spirit, doll, but I don’t wanna rip you in half. We’ll see how well you take my fingers first,’ he says amusedly, not giving me a second to reply before he plunges a finger into me.

I gasp loudly, but the pleasure disappears with his finger which he lifts to his lips, eyes locked with mine as he licks his finger clean of my essence. His eyes flutter shut momentarily as he lets out a low moan, my pussy flooding at the sound. ‘You taste amazing, so fucking sweet. This pussy was made for me to eat, wasn’t it, angel?’ he asks, and when I take a second to reply, he raises an eyebrow, prompting me. ‘Yes, Jin, only for you,’ I reply hastily, and a satisfied smile spreads across his lips.

His finger slips between my folds again, and he doesn’t give me a second to react before he adds another, trying to work me open a little. ‘You’re so tight, doll. And you said you didn’t need prepping,’ he laughs, curling his long fingers inside me, making me clench around him. He slowly pumps in and out of me, rocking his hand against me gently, and I let out moan after moan at this completely foreign feeling. He’s always so quick, so desperate to have me fall apart on his hand as fast as I could, but this? This is different, this is slow, heavenly, like he wants me to enjoy this blissful feeling.

He adds another finger, just about fitting inside me, and I throw my head back against the bed, back arching up as I let out a loud moan of his name. ‘Fuck, angel, you’re killing me. Love your pretty moans,’ I hear him murmur, his voice just about breaking through the pleasure that rolls over me like waves crashing, and his thumb appears at my clit, rubbing slow circles that make me whimper desperately. I look down at him, stomach turning when I realise he’s been watching me, eyes studying my face for my reactions as his fingers work their magic, and I can barely maintain his eye contact, hearing him chuckle when my head falls back, mouth falling open in a moan.

His fingers disappear from inside me after a few minutes, giving me a momentary reprieve from the overwhelming pleasure as he moves closer to me, warm breath fanning out over my core. ‘Oh, god,’ I moan out when he licks a long stripe up my slit without warning. My hands instantly reach down to tangle into his hair, tugging at the locks as he sucks at my clit with his plump lips, making my toes curl. He flicks his tongue over my folds, whimpers spilling from my lips as I squirm, and Hyunjin puts one arm over my waist, pressing down to hold me in place.

He pokes his tongue between my folds, gently pushing into my core, and my mouth falls open into a silent scream when he begins to slowly rub at my clit with his thumb, my legs slamming into his back and pulling him even closer, as close as possible, his head completely buried between my legs. Wet and obscene slurping sounds drown out my desperate moans, and Hyunjin begins to let out grunts and groans against me, lapping at me like a man possessed.

I feel myself getting closer, the knot in my stomach tightening as Hyunjin sucks at my clit, pushing two fingers into me and pumping them at a mind-numbing pace. ‘Gonna cum for me, angel?’ he hums against me, and I can’t even muster up the sanity to reply, just moaning out his name, and he lets out a low chuckle before flicking his tongue over my sensitive bud, fingers curling against the spongy spot inside me. I tense up completely, head pressed back into the bed as I call out his name in a moan, releasing all over his hand and tongue. He works me through my orgasm, gently rocking his hand against me as he laps at my folds. ‘God, you taste amazing,’ he murmurs once I’ve come down from my high, licking the last bit of my release from his fingers, and it takes all my effort to lock my eyes with his as he does so, his lips quirking up into a smirk.

And then he lifts his wrist to his mouth, and I know what’s coming, stomach turning with excitement as he bites down into the skin. When he pulls his wrist away from his mouth, I push myself up onto my hands shakily, leaning forward to his wrist that he holds out to me, blood blooming from the smallest little wounds in his skin. I hold his arm to my mouth, sucking at the dots of blood, the metallic taste exploding on my tongue, and not a second after swallowing it down, I feel my energy coming back, regaining my strength quickly.

He pulls his arm away after a few seconds, his focus returning to between my legs, but when he lowers his head, his lips land on my inner thigh rather than my pussy, and I brace myself for the initial sting. His sharp fangs puncture into my soft thigh, the smallest sharp pain making me wince, but it quickly disappears when he hungrily gulps down my blood, messy and desperate. He lets out groans against my thigh, my blood dripping down my skin as he drinks me like a man starved, and I can already feel myself weakening, the pleasure making my head light and dizzy. He lifts his arm up again after a few moments, the two tiny puncture wounds still bleeding, and I lick it up, the weakness disappearing instantly.

He pulls away after around a minute, my blood dripping down his chin in two lines from the corners of his mouth, as though he’s greedily taken more of me into his mouth than he could handle, and he smirks at me as I wipe it up, putting my now bloodstained finger to his lips. He licks my finger in one swift motion, eyes closing as he savours the taste. ‘It’s not fair, angel. You shouldn’t have such a sweet pussy and delicious blood. You’ve got the whole package,’ he murmurs lightly, making me laugh as he rises from his knees, a small smile playing at his lips.

He looks down at me, dark eyes flitting over my body, and I feel conscious under his intimidating gaze. He seems to sense that I want to curl in on myself, shield my body from his view, and he gives me a soft smile. ‘You’re so fucking beautiful, y/n, and you don’t even know it. You’re heavenly, angel,’ he murmurs softly, holding out a hand to me, and I take it, letting him pull me up from the bed and into his arms. He holds me so tenderly, so gently, that I can’t help but bury my head into his chest, his soft and floral scent flooding my senses.

‘Gonna let me fuck you, angel?’ he asks, voice low, and I take a step back from him, a small smile on my face. ‘Wanna suck your dick first,’ I reply, his eyes darkening instantly, and I can’t help the grin on my face when he groans, ‘you’re one of a fucking kind.’ I take his hand into mine, pulling him around to the side of the bed. I kneel on the bed, hands on his shoulders to steady myself, and once I’m comfortable, I pull the drawstring on his joggers open, slipping my hands under to push them halfway down his thighs. He’s wearing a pair of plain black boxers, his bulge straining against the material, but I don’t pull them down just yet, instead moving my attention to his torso.

He’s so perfect, sculpted by the Gods, and I can’t help but admire his body every time I see it, hands running up his stomach and chest, and over his big shoulders. I bring my lips up to his collarbone, kissing and sucking to leave a mark, threading my hands into the hair at the nape of his neck. He waits patiently, hands on my waist, lips letting out gentle sighs every now and then, and I can’t help but respect his self-control. He’s always so patient, putting me before himself, and I can’t even imagine how difficult it must be for him.

I take pity on him after a little while, moving from his neck and looking up at him with a small smile as my hands trail down to his underwear. I slip my hands beneath the waistband, pulling his boxers down just enough for his hard length to spring up against his stomach, Hyunjin letting out a gentle hiss. He’s so long with a perfect curve (he has the most beautiful cock I’ve ever seen), and his head is painfully swollen and red, the tip leaking with milky white precum. My mouth waters at the sight.

I lean down and press a kiss to the tip, tongue sliding out to taste some of his precum, and he lets out a shaky breath. I spread his wetness down his length with one hand, his hands coming to tangle into my hair. I place my tongue at the base, licking up to the tip against the vein on the underside of his cock, and he tenses as I do so, gripping my hair tightly. I take his head into my mouth, swirling my tongue around him as my hands slowly rub the rest of his length. I look up at him through my lashes as I take him further into my mouth, feeling him hit the back of my throat, and his head falls back, a soft moan falling from his lips.

I gradually build my pace, steadily bobbing my head on him and taking him as far in as possible. ‘Such a good girl, doll,’ he groans, gentle moans falling from his lips more and more often now, and I know it isn’t going to be long before he loses all control. I’m just beginning to adjust to having him hit the back of my throat with each bob of my head when his hips start twitching, and he begins thrusting into my mouth, controlling my head movements with his hands fisted into my hair. All I can do I grab onto the backs of his thighs as he fucks my mouth, my eyes beginning to water. His tip hits the back of my throat harshly, and I gag around him loudly, making him curse as he bucks into my throat.

‘Swallow,’ he instructs, voice not nearly as gentle and soft as a few minutes ago, and I try my best to do so, my throat contracting around him in noisy gags. ‘Come on, doll, you can take me further than that,’ he says teasingly, before pulling my head forward, his cock pushing down my throat and my lips wrapped around the base of his cock, and he can barely thrust back and forth because of how tight my throat is around him, desperately gagging to push him back out. Tears stream down my face, saliva running down my chin, and my choked gags and desperate breaths mingling with his soft grunts and whispered words of comfort in the air.

I can feel him getting closer, his cock twitching in my throat, and I ready myself to feel his hot release hit the back of my throat, but he pulls me off him with a loud sigh, looking down at me with tender eyes. He wipes the saliva from my face with gentle fingers, tilting my head up to kiss away the tear tracks that stain my skin, hand stroking my hair soothingly. ‘Always so good for me, angel. Gonna let me fuck you now?’ he asks, our eyes locked together, and I nod eagerly. ‘Please, Jin, want you,’ I breathe out, throat hoarse, and he grins, pressing his lips to mine in a brief kiss.

‘Lie down for me,’ he says, and I do so, watching as he pulls his joggers and boxers down his legs and kicking them away impatiently before he joins me on the bed, hovering over me. ‘You’re still in your bra, doll. This won’t do,’ he grins, slipping a hand beneath my body to expertly unclasp my bra. I pull it off me quickly, throwing it off to the side as Hyunjin ducks his head, flicking his tongue across one nipple as he rolls the other between his fingers, toying and tugging at it gently. I let out a gentle whimper, tangling my fingers into his hair, and he lets out a gentle chuckle. ‘Want me to bite you, angel?’ he asks teasingly, and I let out a low moan as confirmation, feeling his sharp fangs slide into the soft flesh of my breast not a moment later.

I gasp loudly, pleasure flooding through my veins as he swallows down my blood hungrily, the heady haze of bliss settling over me more and more with each gulp. Whimpers and moans fall from my lips every few seconds, my hands in his hair pulling him closer and closer, one of his big hands gripping onto my waist, fingers rubbing against my skin comfortingly. He doesn’t drink a lot this time, having had more than enough from my thigh, so I don’t feel too weak, but he still feeds me a little of his blood when he’s done, making me smile up at him.

‘Are you sure you still want me to fuck you? Have you got enough energy?’ he asks softly, brushing my hair back from my face, and I nod, leaning up to press a kiss to his lips. ‘I want it, Jinnie. I want you,’ I whisper against his lips, and I feel him grin, resting on one forearm as he rubs his head against my folds teasingly. ‘Jin… please,’ I breathe out, wrapping my arms around his shoulders, and he lets out a low chuckle. ‘I like hearing you beg, doll,’ he murmurs, smile playing at his lips as he continues running his head up and down my folds, tapping the tip against my clit every few seconds, the wetness gushing from my core soaking him. ‘Please, Jin, need you to fuck me, fill me up with your cock, bite me and drain me dry, need it so bad,’ I plead pathetically, and his eyes darken at my words, the boy letting out a gentle ‘fuck’.

He sinks into me slowly, and I gasp as he inches in, enjoying the burning stretch and gripping onto his strong shoulders as I wrap my legs around his waist, pulling him closer to me with my ankles locked together. He lets out a low groan when he bottoms out, our bodies lined up perfectly, and he brings his hand up to my mouth, slipping two fingers past my lips. I roll my tongue around them as he gives me a moment to stop clenching around him and adjust to the stretch. He pushes his fingers a little further in, making me gag around them, and I shoot him evils, Hyunjin trying to look apologetic, but failing miserably and looking amused instead.

‘Can I- fuck, angel, you gotta stop clenching, gonna make me cum. Can I move? Doll, please, I need to move,’ he pleads, the words coming out as a low whine, and I feel a thrill in my stomach. I can’t help but feel pride at being able to make Hyunjin – someone so dominant – whiny and submissive because he’s that desperate to fuck me. I hum out permission around his fingers, and he pulls all the way out before pushing back in, slow and deep, the drag of his cock against my walls making us both moan. ‘Fuck, so tight, angel. So wet and tight. Fucking love this pussy, doll,’ he growls as he fucks into me, dark eyes locked with mine as I moan around his fingers.

‘How’d you want it, y/n? Want me to fuck you slow, doll, or so hard you can’t walk tomorrow?’ he asks in a low voice, hips stilling as he pulls his fingers out of my mouth, and I let out a gentle whine, not quite sure what I want. ‘Anything, Jin, just need you,’ I whisper breathlessly, and he grins a cocky grin, his ego satisfied. His hand comes to the base of my throat, pads of his fingers resting against my blood vessels, and he pulls out, leaving me feeling empty, before slamming all the way back in, knocking all of the air out of me in a desperate moan, his balls slapping against my ass.

‘You were only gone a week but, fuck, I missed you so fucking much. Missed your sweet pussy and your sweet blood, angel. Couldn’t stop myself from jacking off to the thought of this tight, wet little cunt, doll,’ he growls against my ear, his hand at my throat tightening just a little, and I let out a pathetic whimper in reply, his words sending a fresh wave of arousal gushing out of me, coating his thighs and abdomen. ‘So wet, doll, gushing around me. Did you miss my cock, angel?’ he asks between thrusts, my hands tangling into his soft locks, gripping tightly. ‘Missed your cock so much, Jin. Wanted you so fucking bad while I was gone. Never wanna leave you again,’ I try to say, half of it coming out as garbled nonsense and moans, and he lets out a low groan, his thrusts becoming even harder and deeper, his silver chain brushing against my chin with each thrust.

His hand tightens even more, completely cutting off my airflow, and my head instantly starts to become light, the pleasure increasing endlessly with each second. ‘More,’ I barely manage to breathe out, and he lets out a gentle chuckle, doing as I say, fucking me so hard that the bed creaks with each thrust. ‘My dirty little girl. Can’t even handle what I’m already giving you, and you’re asking for more. You forget how strong I am. I’m gonna tear you in half as this rate, angel,’ he murmurs against my ear, hand still tight at my throat, silver rings digging into my skin, and I don’t even feel fear, like I probably should. All I can feel is pure, hot need.

He moves one of my legs from around his waist, bringing it up between us so that my ankle rests on his shoulder, the new position allowing him to go deeper, so much deeper, and his tip scrapes against the spot inside me that makes me scream. He reaches down to rub at my clit, bringing me closer to my climax, and I can feel my vision beginning to go blank when he ducks his head to suck at my neck with his plump lips. The mixed sensations of his hand at my throat, his cock filling me up perfectly, his thumb at my clit and his mouth sucking marks onto my skin makes my eyes flutter shut, the pleasure overwhelming me.

‘Look at me, angel. Wanna see those pretty eyes while I fuck you,’ he growls, cock dragging against my walls, and it takes all my energy to open my eyes. His jaw is clenched, sweat dripping down his face, lips swollen, eyes dark and dilated, glinting red every few seconds, his chain dangling in my face. He looks like sin incarnate. ‘Fuck, you’re so pretty. So fucking pretty,’ he groans, releasing my throat from his tight grip, and I take a deep gasping breath, not even realising how much I needed to breathe. He holds his wrist to his mouth, biting at it again and pushing it against my mouth. I lick up the small drops of blood, quickly regaining my strength, and he presses his lips to mine once I’m done, in a brief passionate and sloppy kiss.

He breaks away from me with a grin, continuing to fuck me hard and deep, swollen tip scraping against the spongy spot inside me, and I let out desperate moans and whimpers of his name, Hyunjin grunting and groaning sinfully softly as tears stream down my face, blurring my vision. I clench around him sporadically, knowing my high is nearing, and he knows it too, his hand slipping down to my clit and rubbing slow circles with his thumb, making me call out his name. ‘Gonna cum for me, doll?’ he asks, and I can’t even bring myself to reply, just nodding along with loud moan, and he grins, his cock still hammering into me.

‘Want you to cum for me, angel. Cum on my cock, y/n, soak it up like a good little girl. So good for me, angel, wanna feel you cum around me,’ he prompts, pushing me closer and closer, the knot in stomach becoming tighter and tighter, and I’m so close, practically there, hanging on the precipice of my high. He grins at me, his lethal fangs sliding out and his eyes glowing red before he ducks his head, biting into the soft flesh of my neck and pushing me over the edge. I scream out his name as he gulps down my blood, numbing bliss flowing through me like morphine, his cock still rocking into me and his thumb toying with my clit. My vision is completely blank, neither white nor black, just… blank, pleasure exploding within me, and I feel my consciousness slipping away until Hyunjin’s finger slips between my lips. He must have bitten it because I taste his blood on my tongue, bringing me back to this moment with him.

He breaks away from my neck when I’ve come down from my high, lips and chin covered in my blood and his eyes still flickering red as he grins, both hands digging into the mattress on either side of my head, the pace of his thrusts increasing once more, his cock slamming into me as he chases his high. I wrap my legs around his waist tightly, arms around his shoulders and nails digging into his skin, hard enough to leave marks. I try not to let the overstimulation stop me from getting him to his climax, my pussy clenching around him with sensitivity, and when I feel his cock twitching inside me, desperate moans falling from his lips and face scrunching up with desperate desire, I know he’s about to cum. I dig my heels into his back to hold him deep inside me, and his head drops down to my neck.

‘Cum in me, Jin. Wanna feel you cum in me, please. Fill me up, Jin. Cum for me, baby,’ I murmur into his ear and he does as I ask, moaning my name loudly against my neck as his entire body tenses up. He bites into me again as he releases inside me, his hot thick cum painting my insides as he slowly moves his hips against me, leisurely sucking my blood. He gently rocks into me until he’s finished and I’m completely out of breath, both of us covered in blood, sweat, tears and cum.

‘God, you’re so good for me, angel,’ he murmurs gently after pulling away from my neck, his fangs retracting before he presses kisses to the skin he’s just bitten, sucking and nipping to leave marks. I play with his hair, body still tensing with aftershocks, and he runs his hands up and down my body, caressing my sweaty skin. Every movement, every action, every featherlight touch of his is so comforting, so tender, that I feel like I can stay here with him forever, letting him worship my body so gently like this, my hands playing with his soft, fluffy locks.

But after a while, I can feel myself drifting away, and I know I can’t sleep like this – covered in various… liquids, with completely soiled sheets and a vampire practically drunk on my blood lying on top of me. ‘Jin… I gotta get up. Clean myself up before I sleep,’ I murmur, and he whines, making me smile at his bratty behaviour. ‘No, wanna stay like this,’ he mumbles against my breast, having ventured down to leave marks on the soft flesh beside my nipple. ‘We can after. Just let me have a quick shower and change the sheets,’ I say softly, and he sighs, waiting a few moments before he pulls out of me and gets up off me, standing up beside the bed.

‘Wait here a second,’ he says before heading towards the bathroom, giving me a view of his cute little ass as he goes. I lie there in silence for a couple minutes, focused on the feeling of his thick cum trickling out of me, before he reappears with a smile, making my heart stop momentarily. His hair is pasted to his forehead with sweat, the bottom half of his face is covered in blood, his lips are swollen and his eyes are lidded with the drunken tiredness of being full on blood, but he looks like the most beautiful man in the world to me.

He scoops me up into his arms, bridal style, and carries me into the bathroom, my eyes on his face the entire time, a small smile on his lips because he knows I’m watching him and admiring him. When we walk into the bathroom, my eyes flit to the bathtub, which is now full. I realise he’s drawn me a bath, my heart swelling when he gently puts me down, not letting go until my feet are firmly on the floor. ‘Go to the toilet first. Don’t want you getting a UTI,’ he says, and I let out a bratty whine, making him raise an eyebrow. ‘Toilet. Now,’ he says, and I pout, stomping to the toilet. His eyes stay locked with mine as I piss, and I let out a laugh after a few seconds – the fact that he’s stood there naked and covered in blood watching me as I wee naked and covered in blood is just so funny to my sleep deprived and jet-lagged mind – and he just rolls his eyes with an amused smile.

Once I’m done washing my hands, I practically bound to the bath eagerly, and he helps me to climb in. I sigh happily as sit in the tub, the temperature of the water perfect to cool down my burning hot skin. I lean back against the edge, my eyelids drooping with tiredness as I watch him wash his face in the sink, cleaning away all the blood. ‘What a waste,’ he murmurs as he watches the red-tinted water wash down the sinkhole, making me let out a little laugh, and he smiles softly at the sound. He climbs into the shower and I watch as he turns the dial, the glass fogging up as the water rains down over him, soaking his honey skin and his pitch black hair.

I love watching Hyunjin do anything, my eyes not leaving his face as he gently scrubs at his skin with my passionfruit-scented shower gel, but I’m so tired that, without even realising it, I fall asleep after a few minutes. Hyunjin wakes me with a tender smile, once he’s out of the shower, wearing fresh underwear and joggers, his chest bare and a towel around his neck to gather the water that drips from his dark hair. I’m too tired to even speak as he washes me, soft hands rubbing gently at my skin, cleaning away the sweat on my body, the blood stains around where he bit me, the dried release around my thighs and the echoes of tear tracks on my face. Neither of us speak the entire time, but we don’t really have to – his touches on my body say everything he wants to say, and my gaze locked onto his face says anything I want to say.

He drains the bath, drying me carefully and carrying me back into the bedroom once he’s done, redressing me in a clean pair of underwear and a soft t-shirt of his that I’ve claimed as my own. He must have changed the sheets whilst I was asleep in the bath, and we climb into my bed together, his arms holding me close. I almost fall asleep the instant my head lands on the pillow, eyes fluttering shut as my body lines up with Hyunjin’s, his front pressed to my back and his arms around my waist. I stay awake just long enough to hear him whisper something, something that sounds suspiciously like what I’ve wanted to hear from him for nearly as long as I’ve known him, but sleep takes me before I can reply.

When I wake in the morning, the other side of the bed is empty, and his bedroom is empty too. And when I see that his shoes are gone from beside the door, I realise he must have left whilst I was asleep. I practically turn the apartment upside down, but he hasn’t left me a note. I check my phone, but he hasn’t texted or called. I can barely make it back into bed before I dissolve into tears, sobbing as though my heart would break.

325 notes · View notes

buck-nialled · 4 years

Text

I’m Baby - N. Horan Imagine

NOTE: here is some niall angst where the title doesn’t really make sense unless i decide to make a part 2 so let me know if you want one and if enough of you do I can continue this...

Niall Horan was not an open book, by any means. Honest? Absolutely. Those closest around them fine the label “genuine” to be an understatement. But the musician was not outward with every detail in his life like others he knew could be. There were obvious reasons why he was not, too. And the logic could not be clearer: nobody in the world needed to know what happened last Tuesday at the gym and how he hurt his knee or the fact that his teeth were in “impeccable condition” according to his usual orthodontist. More importantly, Niall did not think most people would care.

The only people around the man who are informed of these sundry happenings are those he knows would be interested, no matter the scenario. His mother, his best friend Lewis, and of course, you. For roughly nine months, you acted as Niall’s unlicensed (and hella supportive) therapist, but mainly played the part of his girlfriend. Each draining day Niall spent in the booth was a day he was guaranteed to find the sight of you running a hot bath for him at his house, lit candles and bath salts present alongside your naked form for him to unwind however he pleased. And whether the bath turned into a bubbly blanket for your cuddling figures or sensual lubrication for more intimate activities, it left each of you blissful for the rest of the night.

Whenever there was a prying interviewer who went a question too far for the man’s liking, or the hateful words sent Niall down the furious path of the forked road, rather than the somber one, your presence and appreciative listening kept his mood buoyant. You were an amazing partner to Niall, and possibly one of the best supporters he could have stumbled upon in his lifetime. Of course, the support flowed the other way too, despite what most of those in your life might consider being true. With Niall whisked away from you more often than not, it is difficult for him to find time to show you a similar passion which he holds for his occupation. But you knew he was trying, and you had told him on numerous occasions that was all the proof you needed.

The lack of PDA was something you needed to grow accustomed to, though. Admittedly, you were caught off guard when Niall invited you to attend a party with him but spent most of the night a good distance from your form. The various introductions you had envisioned your boyfriend leading in your head dissipated upon your arrival when you realized you would need to do most of the talking yourself. Intimidating was one word to describe the experience. If not for the sight of Niall’s quaffed, brunette hair peeking up like a shark’s fin throughout the crowd during conversations, you may have just fainted.

Finally, when you latched onto Niall’s arm after escaping another curious glance from someone of high status, you breathed a sigh of relief. “Baby, I’ve been trying to get to you all night. You keep running away from me.” A nervous chuckle slides past his lips.

“Sorry petal, guess I just…”

“Niall, hey! Thanks for coming man,” A tall figure approaches the two of you. The man’s brunette eyes take a cursory look over your form in wonder, but don’t remain. Upon traveling back to Niall’s eyes, you feel his arm tugging away from your grasp and meeting his friend for a hug.

“Thanks for the invite. Happy birthday, bud!” He cheers, patting the unruly haired stranger on his back, clad in an extravagantly patterned button-up. When they both pull away, the brown eyes are on you once more, and you are inhibited by a similar shrinking feeling.

“I don’t think we’ve met before…I’m Shawn.” The boy grins, teeth sparkling beneath the dim light as he stretches a hand towards you. You offer your own, hoping its shaking was not visible as they clasp together. No words are exchanged for the seconds following except a small ‘oomph’ as the man tugs you further until your head is colliding with his upper torso.

“Sorry, figured Niall would have given you a warning. I’m a hugger.” The man’s chest bounces through his laughter, causing you both to separate. “What’s your name?”

“Y/N.” The quiet answer barely has Niall’s ears perking up. And with the remaining distance between you and Shawn, his furrowed brows make it clear he could not catch it either.

“Sorry, what was that?” Shawn asks once more.

“Her names Y/N.” Niall’s voice breaks in, catching both you and Shawn off guard.

“Oh…” Shawn speaks after a few moments. “Well, welcome to the party, Y/N! There are drinks in the kitchen if you’d like some, but I’d hurry before he drinks them all. I’ll see you guys later,” Shawn waves before his long legs swagger off to another group of party-goers.

“Are you okay?” You turn to Niall, observing his now firm stance.

“Fine…” He mutters, before turning his head in the direction of the kitchen light. “You want a drink?”

“Sure,” you reach your hand to grab him but are only met with a brisk air gliding through your fingers and a glimpse of Niall’s form retreating into the kitchen in moments. He was acting suspicious, and you were pondering when a good opportunity would be to confront him about it if there ever was a good opportunity…

There wasn’t. Not that night at least, which just so happened to take place before the morning of Niall’s flight to London for a week to continue promo for a new single he was planning to release in a month. Your stewing concluded days before his return back to Los Angeles, and you decided the night was not something to quarrel over. Maybe the anxiety of the crowd was eating at him, or he just wanted to keep your affection to a minimum. What you did not understand, though, was why you needed to be a secret around his friends, too?

The two of you finally found time in your schedules for a day out together. Fortunately, this venture was only slightly work-related. When you brought up the need for a dress for a formal work event approaching hastily, Niall took the chance to inform of his own need for a pair of new boots, as a pair he owned now was becoming worn through their past years of wear and tear.

You made a note not to don your person in anything worthy of head turns. A simple t-shirt and jeans fit the attire just right as you and Niall strolled side by side, heads down, and sunglasses perched on your noses. Your fingers craved the feeling of his locked through them and twitched every time your knuckles bumped against each other’s but never acted further. When entering the store that sold clothes for all genders, you and Niall separated into your designated sections to scour options. Though Niall may not have known, just his body beside yours left you fulfilled and content, much more than the empty space.

The air around you suddenly grew warmer when your eyes finally landed on a plausible option. Thinking it was your boyfriend, you excitedly spun around to reveal your find, only to be met with an unfamiliar face.

“Baby, look what I—” You pause at the sight of a store associate and not Niall. “Oh, sorry. I thought you were somebody else,” you murmur with flushed cheeks. Now realizing the scant space between your two bodies, you took it upon yourself to shuffle backward a few inches.

“That’s alright. I was wondering if I could help you find anything.” While the man spoke, your eyes peeked over his shoulders in attempts to spot your boyfriend. It was no avail and left you sighing.

“Yeah, actually…” you inquire if the dress you were holding came in your usual size, leaving the man to scurry back and check in the back stock eagerly. In the meantime, you hunt down Niall in the shoe section and find yourself frowning at his figure hunched on one of the benches sat in the middle of the aisle, not even one box of boots lying beside him.

“Hey baby, did you find anything?” Your voice has his blue eyes snapping up from his phone and to your twiddling thumbs. Taking a seat beside him calmed you down from the scare of the store employee, even if the closest to affection either of you attained from it was your thighs pressed against each other.

“Hmm,” Niall hummed, pocketing his mobile device. “Not really, did you?” He raises a brow in interest.

“I don’t know yet, I found one I liked a lot but—”

“Miss?” Immediately, both of your heads turned to find the store employee, with two dresses dangling from his fingers by their attached hangers.

“Good news, I found that dress in your size. But I saw this in the back also…” He moves the wine-red dress into your view for your eyes to drink in. “Not that my opinion matters, but I think it’d do your body nicely.” The man’s eyes darken with each word as his eyes trail up and down your body without hesitance.

You chuckle warily, cheeks growing hot beneath his stare as your tongue trembles behind your lips for an answer. “Uh…I um…”

“I think we’re good for today actually,” Niall’s voice fills your ears again. You turn your head to take sight of Niall’s soft jaw and challenging stare and take a sharp inhale at the feeling of his muscular arm winding around your middle. “Thanks for the offer, though.” The last sentence was short of a snap towards the man, who was now intimidated by Niall’s appearance. You were sure he would have apologized for his inappropriate comments too, but you found your boyfriend leading the two of you all too quickly into a different store.

But you pause when his hand leaves your waist before you two were entering a new store. “This place looks nice—” ‘

“Why’d you do that?” The question, spoken softly, somehow cut through Niall’s comment like steel.

“Do what?”

“That.” You clarify with a jut of your head towards the previous retailer. “Why’d you just step in like that? I could have said something myself.” You huff, crossing your arms over your chest. Niall takes notice of your defensive stance immediately and begins spewing any nonsense words he can think of to deflate the interrogation.

“Come on, petal, he was being a creep.” Niall reasoned in a low tone, but your agitation only continued to grow along with your volume.

“Okay, and? Because he was a creep you just needed to put your arm around me and make it clear I was taken? I wasn’t going jump his bones even if I was single.” You argued. ‘

“I didn’t say you would. I was trying to send a message.” Niall explains, eyes catching curious glances from pedestrians strolling by.

“I could have sent one just as easily by telling him no.”

“Then why didn’t you?”

“Because you didn’t even give me the chance, Niall!” Your voice burst into an entirely new level of loud neither of you knew possible. To make it worse, his name was the loudest part of the sentence, but you did not seem to care who may have heard you at that moment. Because whenever you were with Niall, and especially right now, he was not the international musician. He was your boyfriend. And you were having this argument whether one or one hundred people cared to gather around and witness it. “Just like you didn’t let me give my name to Shawn at his party.”

“You hesitated!” Niall hissed. “And what does Shawn’s party have to do with what just happened?”

“I was in shock, okay? I didn’t expect a random dude to pull moves on me! I especially didn’t expect you to swoop in and save me like it’s your job.” You scoff, not even bothering to answer his follow-up question. Niall’s brows clinch together.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” He was now mimicking your stance, arms linked together over his torso.

“It means that…for somebody who wants to keep his girlfriend a secret, you’re doing a shit job of it.” You spit. A few moments of silence passed between the two of you, the stares of close to fifteen people had been paying notice to your scuffle. An occasional flash could be caught by your peripheral, but you gave nobody the satisfaction of turning your head for a closer look at you.

“Says the girl who just outed us in public,” Niall mutters, words nearly inaudible to you. He wished seconds later that they were, but the shake of disdain you gave him before pivoting to speed away was all he needed to know he fucked up. Majorly.

267 notes · View notes

bookandcranny · 3 years

Text

Shortwave Radio

Why he decided to leave behind a perfectly good astral cluster and go sight-seeing on a spinning ball of dirt in this great cosmic nothing of a solar system is a mystery to the entire family, but it’s been almost ten years now and so they’ve all had no choice but to conclude that he’s not coming back any time soon.

The right thing to do is to support him in it, so says tender-hearted big brother Hercules, and if that means jumping through a few hoops to attend some strange human ceremony in this hot and lifeless wasteland, then that’s simply what they’ll do.

summary: Five siblings from the stars come to earth by invitation of their estranged little brother, who’s only request to them is that they take a road trip across the American southwest and try to learn to see this planet the way he sees it.

content warnings: dysfunctional families, carsickness, strong language, fear of abandonment, and accidental misgendering of a nonbinary character

length: about 7k words

also, have a playlist!

🛸🛸🛸

On a particularly sticky day in late July, a black minivan rolls up outside Gruber’s Convenience somewhere in the vague liminal world of the i-110 out of El Paso. Shimmering like a mirage the vehicle comes to a stop and five figures shuffle into the station. Working the counter is a greasy-faced teenager who calls himself Benj, though according to his nametag he’s Benjamin until the end of his shift.

If he weren’t intentionally ignoring the group that just walked in, resenting the loss of quiet and the cool air that just escaped with the chime of the door, Benj would notice a few things about them. For one thing, while they all look quite different, all five of them are wearing the exact same clothes: pale blue t-shirt, gray jeans, plain white sneakers, not a toe scuffed or sullied by the dust they kicked up coming in. They’re perfectly inconspicuous outfits, but too new, too deliberate in their banality.

The people in the clothes have much the same effect. They’re collections of ordinary, aesthetically pleasing parts assembled as if at random, almost uncanny at the wrong angle. Not supermodel pretty, but perhaps stock photo passable. One of them keeps touching things. Just, touching them. He trails his fingers over snack cakes and little pouches of corn nuts with an unreadable expression. Three of them are clustered together in front of the drinks fridge speaking in hushed tones.

The last one of the bunch is hovering in the corner making eyes at the shop’s resident mascot, Garfield, an uncreatively named tabby cat who’s taken to sleeping on a box underneath the AC unit. The cashier does notice her (he thinks she’s a her) if only because she’s kind of cute, in a straight-laced camp counselor kinda way. He’s already building up an idea of her in his head, every atom of it more false than he realizes.

The Christine or Sydney or whoever reaches down and gives the cat a poke, which turns into an experimental stroke.

“Mrph?” says Garfield, like cats do.

“Mrph?” parrots the... Liz maybe? No, not quite, he thinks. Garfield blinks at her, yawns. She withdraws, looking half offended by his indifference.

“Don’t take it personal,” Benj says. “He’s not very social.”

She looks at him for the first time and he reevaluates his earlier assessment. Eyes too pale, too far apart-- not ugly per se but definitely not worth the possible write-up he’d get for flirting with a customer.

“He’s the owner’s cat,” he babbles, scratching his chin and looking anywhere but at her. “Or so they say. Honestly I think he just showed up here one day and no one could get him to leave.”

Before she can reply, one of her matching buddies comes up to the register and dumps an assortment of snacks onto the counter. It’s a baffling, eclectic pile, but like any good retail worker Benj has long since learned not to examine anything too closely.

“Road trip, huh? Where are you guys headed?”

The radio behind the counter has gone all staticky. He fiddles with the antenna.

“Visiting family,” says snacks guy. His voice is soft and monotonous, a stark contrast as the guy’s built like a US SEAL.

Benj looks from face to face. “All of you?” He’s having a hard time believing any two of them are related.

He nods, once. A stiff, decisive shake of the head. The crackling of the radio is getting worse. Benj turns it off.

“Will that be everything, sir?”

Another nod.

“Herc, wait!” One of the man’s supposed relatives comes up behind him and shakes him by the shoulders. “Hercules, look at this.”

He slams a book down on the counter, one of the cheap paperbacks Gruber’s pedals between the condoms and the first-aid kit stuffings. The cover reads, “The Chest from The West” and features a heavily airbrushed model in a cowboy hat and unbuttoned flannel shirt.

“What am I looking at?” Herc asks.

“Get this too. I want to read it.”

“Why?”

He opens his mouth but whatever he’s about to say, Benj doesn’t really want to be present for it. He quickly scans the book and throws it cover-side-down into the bag. Let them work this one out on their own, hopefully somewhere else.

“Your total’s $29.75” He spins around to shake the radio, which is somehow now back on and blaring louder. When he turns back, the register is telling him everything’s been bought and paid for. Guy must be lightning quick with a credit card, he thinks.

“Huh. Guess you’re all set, man-- sir.” He hands them their bags. “Have fun at your family thing.”

He flashes the big guy a thumbs up. He looks strangely staggered by the gesture and replies haltingly, “Thank you. You also, have fun.”

“Come on, sibs,” the more energetic one chirps. “Cass? Cass, come on.” He drags his sister away from the cat, who’s just starting to warm up to her. “That’s you, remember? Let’s go.”

They don’t get any gas from the pumps outside. Benj is pretty sure he saw the testy looking one with the ponytail shoplift a bottle of off-brand cola, but he isn’t paid nearly enough to care. At least after they’re gone the radio starts working normally again.

Hercules drives, though it’s not so much driving as sitting in the driver’s seat and telling the van to go. Earth machines are simplistic and easy to manipulate. Slow though. Cass is riding “shotgun”, as is apparently customary for the navigator. Andromeda, Zeta, and Camelopardalis share the backseat, where the formermost is rehashing the same tired debate with the latter.

“We need to work out a better earth name for you,” he insists. “Myself, I’ve been doing some research and I’m thinking about going by ‘Andy’ from now on.”

“I’m not calling you that,” says Zeta.

Camelopardalis asks, “What’s wrong with the name I have?”

“It is a bit long,” Cassiopeia agrees. “A shorter one would help you fit in better.”

“Speaking of fitting in, something else has been bothering me. What’s your gender supposed to be?”

“My what?”

“You know, your gender. We all picked one.”

“It’s almost like you didn’t read the brief,” Zeta says, instigator that she is.

“It’s almost like none of you read the brief, that I took the time to write specifically to help you all acclimate to earth culture.”

“Zeta, don’t upset Cass,” Herc scolds.

“I’m not upset.” She turns in her seat to stare pointedly out the window. There isn’t much to look at, just miles upon miles of rolling desert interrupted by the occasional billboard or truck stop, all crawling by at a snail’s pace compared to the sort of travel they’re used to. Not that she’d recognize the analogy. She misses the cat.

Camelopardalis fiddles with their seatbelt. “Which one are you again?”

“I’m a ‘man’,” Andromeda recites. “Earth men are known for their physical prowess and carnivorous diet, they live in cave environments, and often congregate in packs called ‘fraternities’.” He waves the gas-station novel in the air. “I’m going to research their habits and perfect my persona. By the time I’m done with this I’ll practically be a local.”

“I don’t know… Zeta, what made you decide to be the other one?”

“Flipped a coin.”

“Women,” Cass informs them. “Can be most commonly identified by their long hair, fastidious hygiene habits, the use of traditional face paints to accentuate the eyes and lips, and by fleshy protrusions of the upper torso. Any of these traits can indicate an earth woman, though none are necessarily required.”

They throw up their hands. “How is that helpful at all then! Zeta?”

“What do you want me to do about it? I didn’t invent them. Hercules, are you sure these ‘snacks’ are safe to eat? They have a strange texture.”

“If you don’t like it, don’t eat it.” He punctuates the point by reaching back and grabbing a cream-filled cupcake off the pile. He tears the plastic with his teeth and eats half of it in a single bite. He barely tastes the thing, but he’s hoping if his siblings follow his lead their mouths will be too full to whine at him.

“Yeah, Zeta, don’t be a bitch.” Andromeda opens a pack of mini donuts, albeit more gingerly, and pops one into his mouth.

Cass whips her head around. “Where did you learn that word?”

He holds open the paperback and points to a page.

Austin hesitated. “I’ve never ridden a horse before. What if I fall?”

Derek chuckled manfully. “Don’t be a bitch, city boy,” he teased. Then he placed his large, calloused hand upon the small of Austin’s back. He leaned in and whispered, “Don’t worry, I won’t ever let you fall.”

The navigator leans over the center console and tries to snatch the book away but he dodges swiftly, clutching it to his chest.

“That’s foul language, Andromeda Alpheratz.”

“Earthers use this kind of speech with each other all the time. It’s a sign of familiarity and affection. You guys need to be less formal if you want to blend in.”

“If it’s meant to be an insult,” Camelopardalis wonders. “Why would they use it to convey affection.”

“Because they’re brutish, unevolved lifeforms,” Zeta sneers. “‘Blend in, blend in’. The rest of you can worry about blending in with the apes. I’m only doing this for Perseus.”

“We’re all doing this for Percy,” Hercules says in a chastising voice that makes even Zeta shrink down in her seat. “So can we please agree to be somewhat civil and not make this trip more painful than it needs to be?”

There’s a murmur of general agreement and peace is restored, however temporarily. Camelopardalis clears their throat.

“I still don’t really understand why we couldn’t land directly at Perseus Nine’s coordinates.”

Cass huffs, blowing a dark curl out of her face. “For the last time, Percy specifically requested we partake in the human ritual of the ‘road-trip’ for this last portion of our journey. It’s the same route he traveled the first time he came to earth, and apparently holds some sort of sentimental significance. It’s important to him we experience the same pilgrimage. For some reason.”

She adds the last part under her breath, knowing full well the others will still hear her. They can hear one another when separated by countless miles of empty space, their voices resonating from star to star, clear as a bell. Compared to that, the close proximity of a rented minivan is stifling. There’s an uncomfortable intimacy to it, these crudely assembled physical forms pressed together, bloated and heavy with all the trappings of humanity. Sweat and road dust and gravity cling to Cass like an over-warm coat and she longs for the cool estrangement that comes so easily in the void of space. It’s tough to be a star-dweller away from her star.

“The reasons don’t matter,” Herc declares, and his word is as good as law here. He is the eldest of them, though the concept of seniority is abstracted somewhat by the literal millennia they’ve all lived through.

Percy is the baby, as well as the black sheep of the family, so to speak. (His actual moniker among their kinfolk roughly translates to “the dissonant note”, a scathing insult for those who knew what it meant.) Why he decided to leave behind a perfectly good astral cluster and go sight-seeing on a spinning ball of dirt in this great cosmic nothing of a solar system is a mystery to the entire family, but it’s been almost ten years now and so they’ve all had no choice but to conclude that he’s not coming back any time soon.

“At least we can check one more stop off the list,” Zeta quips. “What’s next?”

Cass checks her itinerary. “We are to visit one national historic landmark, one ‘tourist trap’-- whatever that means-- followed by a stop at ‘Diane’s Diner’, home of the world’s best pie. After that, we can head straight to the meet-up location.” She glances at the clock on the dashboard. “We’re a little behind schedule but we should make it right on time as long as there are no unexpected delays.”

An hour and a half of driving later, Andromeda throws up corn chips and mini donuts all over the back of Herc’s seat.

They pull over on the side of the road. The desert sand is just beginning to give way to sparse yellow grass, brittle from the sun. Herc steadies Andromeda, looking viscerally displeased as he finishes emptying out his recently manifested stomach.

Camelopardalis frets through the whole episode. “We’ve all been eating the same food, except for Zeta. If it’s poisonous, one of us will be next.”

“It’s not poison, it’s carsickness,” Cass sighs. “Honestly, I’m starting to think none of you even looked at the brief.”

“Zeta, look in the back for something to clean up with.”

“Why me?”

“We’re going to lose so much time…”

“Would you rather hold him?”

Andromeda retches.

“Do you think Percy would care if we skipped a couple stops?”

“Cassiopeia Sigma,” Hercules begins sternly.

“Alright, alright. I’ll figure something out.”

Fortunately they’ve happened to stop within walking distance of something called The Trinity Site, according to the map. Camelopardalis and Cass go ahead to check another stop off the list while Zeta and Herc clean up the van and make sure Andromeda isn’t actually dying. (How embarrassing, to be a quasi-immortal astral being only to perish at the hands of a tainted twinkie.)

They wander from the roadside, following the map and occasional signposts, and shortly find themselves standing in front of an ominous looking stone obelisk with a bronze placard affixed to one side.

Trinity Site: Where the world’s first nuclear device was exploded on July 16th, 1945

There’s more but Cass stops reading. Camelopardalis asks her to explain what the plaque means by nuclear device-- they’re familiar with nuclear power as a concept, fission and fusion, ideas not far departed from the system of energy exchange that sustains their natural bodies in the heart of their stars-- but goes pale when she goes into the relevant applications of said devices.

“Wonderful,” she grumbles to herself as she snaps a few photos of the monument with a disposable camera. “I’m sure Percy will be thrilled.”

“Excuse me.”

The pair turn to see a man in a colorful button-up and khakis and a woman with a day-old sunburn peeling off beneath the straps of her tank top.

“Boy are we happy t’see the two of yous. Couldja take our picture real quick?”

The woman holds out a camera, a significantly more professional piece of equipment than the one Cass is holding.

“Oh, sure,” Cass replies. She’s nervous as she takes it from her hands. She’s never encountered this sub-species of human in her research before, and finds it difficult to parse the woman’s peculiar dialect. Both of them are smiling, but they’re also showing a lot more teeth (and a fair bit of gum) than she thinks is normal. A subtle threat?

Nevertheless, she fumbles with the camera for a moment before managing to take a decent snapshot. The man wraps an arm around his wife’s waist and she slots herself in against his side.

“Ope, wait, let’s do a silly one to send to Marsha and the kids. Were my eyes closed? No? Perfect, you’re a doll. We’ll leave you kids alone now.”

“Sure,” she says again, feeling out of pace.

“My nephew wears his hair like that,” the man says without segway. He’s talking to Camelopardalis, they realize. “It’s very… hip.”

They touch their hair. They hadn’t given it much thought before, might not ever have if he hadn’t pointed it out. It’s nice, they think.

“Thank you, ma’am.”

His expression flinches into a puzzled frown. Cass smacks their arm.

“Sir! Thank you, sir.”

After they’ve walked away Cass gives him another jab for good measure.

“His hair was longer than the other one’s,” they complain. “And the chest was sort of fleshy. How was I supposed to know?”

“We’re lucky you didn’t cause an incident. Earthers carry weapons in this part of the world.”

They rub their arm. “I don’t know, they seemed nice.”

Still they give a fleeting glance at the plaque behind them and argue no more.

They return to the van, now blessedly puke-free. Andromeda is looking better too. They all pile in and almost immediately Camelopardalis misses the freedom of being able to move without touching somebody. It may be their imagination, but the car seems to be moving slower than ever.

“How was it?” Zeta asks, despite her obvious disinterest.

“Uninspiring,” is Cass’ reply.

The other nods and doesn’t force her to elaborate. “I wish I knew what Perseus intended for us with this… chore list.”

“It’s not important, we just do it.”

Herc is always a steady presence, but even he is starting to sound annoyed with repeating himself. Zeta, of course, can’t leave well enough alone.

“If we just knew what he wanted us to do or say we could do it and go back to how we were before.”

Cass snaps. “Maybe you should stop complaining and make an effort for once.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

The car erupts into a heated four-way argument. Only Hercules resolutely abstains from comment, though his hands tighten into fists on the steering wheel. The fight doesn’t end in resolution so much as exhaustion. Everyone’s too miserable to keep hurling accusations and insults for the next hundred miles, and at length they lapse back into tense silence.

Zeta rests her head against the window, taking the arythmic rattle into herself, breathing it out in silent, frenetic melodies. She dislikes fighting with her siblings, no matter what they might claim to the contrary. It doesn’t happen often, or didn’t, but things have been different since Percy left home. The littlest star-child had a natural soothing presence to him, one that she’d long taken for granted. Earth is so noisy, she thinks. She strains to listen but she can’t hear a trace of him anywhere.

She tries to imagine what he’d say, if he were here.

“What are we even doing?”

Probably not that, but she already has everyone’s attention now so she figures she might as well keep going.

“I mean, we’re still behind schedule, we can’t stop bickering, Andromeda can’t even eat right apparently, and I’m pretty sure half of us didn’t even look at Cassiopeia’s brief.”

“Are you getting to a point?” Cass asks irritably.

“I’m just saying we’re all… bitches.”

“Zeta!”

“Get comfortable with it! We’re all bad at this. Me, you, all of us. So can we just stop blaming each other and have a truce in the interest of getting this over with?”

Cass opens her mouth, then lets it fall shut, sinking back into her seat. For a moment it seems they’re heading for another long awkward silence, when Andromeda sits up and points out the window with a sudden urgency.

“Look!”

Herc slows down and they see a billboard lit up in eerie green neon light, directing them to the next off-ramp.

Must see attraction! Visit the one of a kind Ancient Aliens Exhibit!

The star-folk look at one another.

“Is this what they call a tourist trap?”

“It seems likely.”

Andromeda is glowing-- in a very literal sense-- with excitement. “It’s an exhibit about us.”

“‘Ancient’? Speak for yourself, I’m still only in my six-thousands.”

Needless to say, they do stop at the roadside museum. Cass takes pictures aplenty and, to her surprise, actually enjoys it. Andromeda is disappointed to find there isn’t actually a display dedicated to their kind. Instead there are a lot of grainy photos of some squat, bug-eyed species called “greys” and diagrams of the Egyptian pyramids for some reason. He gets over it by the time they get to the gift shop.

By unanimous decision, they do not buy anymore snacks, though Zeta’s eye does linger on a cooler in the corner advertising “the ice cream of the future!”. Herc does however buy a number of souvenirs. (Rather, he convinces the automated register to record a purchase that didn’t technically take place, and bumps up the number in the bank account of one very nice tour guide while he’s at it.)

They leave with a mood ring, a handful of polished stones in a small velvet bag, a “gravity defying” purple yo-yo shaped like a UFO, and Camelopardalis sheepishly lays claim to a friendly looking martian figurine with bendable limbs. Overall, spirits are much higher by the time they make it back to the van.

“Hercules,” his meek younger sibling ventures. “Could I try driving? I’ve been curious about it.”

Feeling generous and more than a little tired of staring out at the road for hours at a time, he agrees. He shows Camelopardalis the basics and makes sure they know how not to veer off the road or into other drivers and then he climbs into the middle backseat and stretches out his arms so the siblings on either side of him can tuck in against him and rest. Eventually even the diligent navigator Cassiopeia begins to doze. It’s been a long day and none of them are quite accustomed to the burden of having earthbound bodies.

When Andromeda wakes up the first thing he registers is that it’s getting dark, the day reduced to a slim red band sinking over the horizon. The second thing is the yelling.

“What do you mean you don’t know!”

“I thought I could read the map myself--”

“What about you, navigator? What were you doing?”

“--didn’t mean to--”

“As if you’re one to talk! I can’t believe--”

“--and you were the one who--”

“Shut up!”

Hercules’ normally subdued baritone booms through the van. The windshield wipers begin swinging as if in indignation, while the passengers wince and cover their ears. Andromeda can’t remember a time when his brother’s frequency had felt so violent. The shivering resonance it leaves behind makes his teeth ache.

There’s a pregnant pause, then Cass slams open the door and begins to pace.

“Shit!” she yells at the empty air. They’re parked in a field somewhere, no sign of life save for the buzzing of insects and the rumble of a train somewhere off in the distance. Cass kicks at the ground and screams again. “Shit fuck bitch hell! We are so fucking lost! And so fucking late!”

Andromeda winces again and gets out to try and calm her. “Hey, it’s okay.”

“It is not! We’re probably missing the ceremony right now. Percy will never forgive me for this.”

“It wasn’t your fault…”

“I’m supposed to be the navigator!”

“Well, yes, but…” The words come out strangled. He touches his chest and realizes he’s breathing rapidly. His eyes are beginning to water as well. “I should’ve… I didn’t…”

Zeta hurries over to him. “What’s wrong? Are you going to be sick again?”

Without warning he doubles over and begins bawling.

“Hercules, do something! Something’s wrong with him!”

“Don’t… don’t… don’t…” he gasps and stammers.

Herc clutches his brother. “Don’t what? Talk to me.”

“Don’t fight,” he finally chokes out. “I don’t want to lose anybody else.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Percy,” he sniffles miserably. “He doesn’t care about us anymore. He has earth now, and all his new earth friends, and we can’t even do this one thing for him. It’s my fault. I knew he hated when I called him a dissonant note and made fun of his earth music but I did it anyway. Now he probably hates me and all of us and this whole thing has been for nothing.”

The eldest braces his arms on Andromeda’s slumped shoulders. “Percy doesn’t hate us. He invited us here because he wanted to see us.”

“Herc’s right, Andromeda. Percy doesn’t have it in him to hate anyone.”

“It’s not easy, but he chose this. He chose earth. We have to respect that.”

Zeta grumbles, “And just what is so special about this stupid planet anyway?”

“It has cats,” Cassiopeia says quietly. Her sister glares but she stays firm. “Well it does. And… people.”

“Strange, silly earth people,” Camelopardalis adds, nervously fussing with their hair. “Confusing and contradictory and fascinating.”

“People who hurt each other for no good reason.”

“People who are kind for no good reason too.”

Andromeda wipes phosphorous tears from his eyes and takes out the rumpled gas-station paperback. “In this book Austin leaves his job as a big city lawyer to follow the cowboy he’s in love with.”

“You think Perseus traveled to earth for cowboy love?”

“It’s a possibility!”

Cass scoffs. “I honestly don’t think he was thinking that far ahead. You know Percy. He probably crash-landed without any plan whatsoever. Or, he probably thought he knew what he was doing, and then when he actually got there he was terrified. And then he probably didn’t want to say anything because he was afraid his siblings would think less of him once they realized he was actually just as clueless about earth stuff as they were. That would probably be really, really stressful for him.”

“Are we still talking about Percy?”

She makes a wordless noise of frustration and kicks up another patch of grass.

Andromeda puts an arm around her. “If… Percy was worried about that, I’d tell her-- him! I’d tell him that he shouldn’t be, because there’s nothing he could do that would make us stop believing in him.”

She exhales. “Thanks.”

“I was talking about you, Cass,” he whispers. “It’s you I believe in.”

“Thank you, I got that.”

“I just… miss him, I guess.”

Herc hums in agreement. “Barely a millennium old and he’s already grown up and gone completely terrestrial. This past century has been the longest of my existence.”

“Hercules, it’s only been ten years.”

That news causes him to make such a face that Zeta starts laughing. It’s the first time she’s so much as cracked a smile the entire trip.

“So… what do we do now?” Camelopardalis asks.

After a moment, Cass grabs the map off the dashboard and holds it open.

“A little more light please?”

They step up behind her and hold a glowing hand over the paper. Her brow creases in concentration.

“Alright, I think we’re somewhere around here,” She gestures. “And we need to be here. There’s no way we’re going to show up on time, but we can still show up. We owe him that much.”

They get in their seats, Herc back at the helm, and begin trying to reclaim the distance they lost with the unplanned detour. Cass breathes a sigh of relief when road signs start to reappear. A driver honks at them as they pick up speed and Herc steers closer and makes their radio start playing at top volume. Zeta opens the window and a cool night breeze tickles her skin. The stars are bright and beautiful above them, and looking up, suddenly home doesn’t feel so far away.

All at once they slow to a near stop.

“What’s going on? Why are we stopping?”

“Traffic,” Herc says like it’s a curse. “Looks like there was an accident.”

“Take this exit,” Cass commands. “We can cut through the next town and get ahead of it.”

So he does and soon they find themselves driving through the quiet streets of Kismet, Nevada. That is, quiet until Zeta catches sight of something out the window and yells, “Pull over!”

“What! What is it now!”

She points, and they see. The sign ahead reads, “Diane’s Diner: Home of the World’s Best Pie”. They pull in so fast they nearly end up colliding with a stout aproned woman who’s pushing a teetering hand cart across the lot.

“What do you maniacs think you’re doing?” she demands as they clambour out of the van.

“I’m very sorry, ma’am,” Cass says in a rush. “It is just very important to my siblings and I that we get to this establishment.”

The woman huffs. “You’re a mite late then, I’m afraid. We’re closing up early tonight. Got a big catering order I have to deliver.”

Herc asks, “Are you Diane, of the diner?”

She laughs. “Close. I’m Maddie Finkle of the diner. Diane’s my mother’s name. It’s a family business. But what brings you folks here looking for Diane at this time of night? I don’t think I’ve seen your faces around town before, and I always remember a customer.”

“Do you remember a customer named Percy? It would’ve been years ago, but this place was very important to him. He’s our brother.”

Maddie’s eyes light up. “Why didn’t you say so! Of course I know Percy. And if you rowdy lot are his siblings, then I’ve got a message for you.”

“A message?” Percy hadn’t said anything to them about a message. Maybe this was his way of ensuring they actually made it to the last stop on his list.

“Well, sort of. Come, come, help me load up all this grub and I’ll tell you everything.”

Herc and Zeta go to either side of her and help push the wobbly cart to a truck with the diner’s logo emblazoned on the side. As they load the boxes, Maddie speaks.

“I first met your Percy when I was just a waitress, mama still working the kitchen. One day this kid walks in, looking as lost as can be, comes straight up to the counter and tells me he’s just fallen from outer space and could use some assistance.” She barks a laugh. “I didn’t go for the whole alien thing but that second part was a lot more believable. He looked a mess. I asked if he needed something to eat but he just said he needed a safe place to rest for a moment. He’d been on his feet all day, walking and hitchhiking his way clear across the desert.

“Of course I wanted to know where he was going that was so important, but he said he didn’t know for sure yet. Said he was following a melody, a song he’d heard from very far away that had drawn him to this place. I told him I couldn’t help him there. The only music we had in the diner was this old stereo system mama had put in when she first opened the place and it was long broken. Mama was too sentimental to get rid of the old thing and the repairman couldn’t do anything for it so broken it stayed.

“He asked me to show him so I did, figuring it couldn’t hurt anything. Then that kid walked up to the busted speaker and just like that it started playing again like it was new. I told him, ‘For that, I owe you more than a place to rest your legs. Stay in town for a while, let us put you up and get you back on your feet, or at least let me drive you to the train station so you can get where you’re going.’ But he refused, and before long he was gone again.

“Then, not a couple days later, spaceboy comes back traveling with this other kid, heading in the opposite direction. I ask him what happened and he says he was going one way but he changed his mind and turned around. He leans in like he’s sharing a great big secret, like we’ve been friends all our lives, and says, ‘I found it, Maddie. I found the song.’ Weirdest kid I’ve ever met! But they make a cute couple, him and that boy, and they’re some of my best customers to this day.”

They finish packing up the truck, Maddie leaning leisurely against the fender as she reminisces. Herc frowns, confused.

“Was that the message?”

“Yup.” She pops the P. “He just told me to tell you the story. Not sure why. I mean, it’s a good story, I think. But you already know all about it, right? You’re his family after all.”

“No, he never told us,” he admits softly.

“Huh. Weird. But then, he’s kind of a weird kid, yeah? I always wondered, is it all you aliens who talk in riddles like that, or just him?”

“I thought you said you didn’t believe his claims.”

“I didn’t the first time, but if your Percy’s one thing it’s… Perc-istent.” When no one laughs, she pushes onward. “Well, that’s all of it. We’d better get a move on, huh?”

“‘We’?”

“Sure, aren’t you folks on your way to Percy’s place too? I figured you’d be staying over, and I gotta get everything set up for the wedding tomorrow.”

A palpable shock ripples through the star-folk. “Tomorrow?”

“‘Course, what did you think all this was for?” She pats the truck. “I wanted to get everything ready ahead of time so we’re good to go in the morning. It’s not easy being the caterer and providing my lovely self as a guest on the same day, but I couldn’t let those sweet boys down.”

Andromeda slumps over, leaning on Herc for support. “Percy told us the wedding was tonight.”

The chef raises an eyebrow. “Sounds like someone’s been having a little fun with you. Nah, they’re doing some sort of get-together tonight since neither one of the bachelors wanted a bachelor party, but the actual wedding ceremony’s definitely not until tomorrow.”

“I’m going to end him,” Cass mutters under her breath.

“Hurry up now,” she says. “I’m sure the groom-to-be’s expecting you.”

The five follow Maddie’s truck away from the main drags, away from the buildings, the scenery becoming gradually greener as the road turns from asphalt to gravel. At last they find themselves pulling up in front of the house that Percy has come to call home. It’s a raised ranch, flanked by evergreens and patchwork plots of small white and yellow flowers that Percy’s fiance must have planted, and a tower of plastic chairs and tables covered by a tarp.

It’s a nice place, large and somewhat secluded, set apart from the noise of traffic or threat of nosy human neighbors. Percy’s sensitive to loud noise and, after all, still an alien living in secret amongst humanity. Yet as they get out and follow the caterer where she’s cutting around back through the garden, they’re struck by the sounds of laughter and music and lively chatter.

A group of earthers are gathered on the patio, smiling faces lit by a string of twinkling lights. A man with a guitar strums along with the music coming from inside.

“Are you sure we’re in the right place?” Andromeda whispers.

“You think there’s a second Perseus Nine about to be married in this town?” Cass shoots back.

Zeta hisses, “Quiet, I can hear him.”

To his surprise, Herc can too. Above the noise, laced into everything he touches, there is a resonance, his baby brother’s unique personal frequency. To describe it as sound alone would perhaps be inaccurate; it’s a vibration, an echo. Percy is everywhere in this place: his whispers and his shouts, his twinkling laugh, but also the part of him that no human being can detect, the part of him that is still, and will always be, of the stars.

He must sense them too, because in that moment he appears standing in the doorway, bathed in its yellow light. His face breaks out in a glowing grin and he runs to greet them, bolting like a comet being pulled into his siblings’ orbit.

“You made it!” he exclaims.

Zeta snorts and allows him to throw his arms around her. “No thanks to you and your list of demands.”

“You brat,” Cass accuses. “You told us the ceremony was tonight.”

Percy tilts his head to look at her, his expression not half as guilty as it should be. For a moment she reels at the sight of him; the body he’s constructed for himself has aged since the last time they crossed paths. It’s subtle, the way his dimples have deepened into true laugh lines, and his hair has grown ever longer, though it also isn’t as tangled as she remembers. He is still himself, underneath, the light of his true being faintly visible beneath the skin.

“I was worried if I told you the real date you wouldn’t make it in time. You’re not used to traveling the human way. It can be messy.”

She grimaces. “You’re not wrong.”

“You’re actually here way earlier than I thought you’d be.” His smile falters, only slightly. “This is… everyone?”

Herc swallows. “The others…” he begins, but quickly finds he doesn’t have the words that should follow.

“Well, it’s not like I had enough chairs for all two-hundred-ninety-seven of them anyway.” He reaches out and squeezes his brothers tightly. “Hercules, Andromeda, It’s so wonderful to see you. Camelopardalis, Cassiopeia, it means so much to me that you came. I know it probably wasn’t easy. Zeta…”

She scoffs. “The only hard part was putting up with these bitches.”

Hercules interjects, “We shouldn’t keep you from your party. Go on, I need to get some things from the van.”

“You didn’t bring presents, did you?”

“It’s customary for weddings, is it not?”

Percy grins. “You’re becoming a real expert on earth customs.”

He shrugs and looks at Cass. “I just read the brief.”

Percy invites his family in, along with Maddie, who is perfectly tickled by the siblings’ awkward affection. After helping her bring in the food, Percy beckons over the man with the guitar.

“Adam!”

The man looks up. He has a boyish, freckled face and a head of dark curls that spill over his brow. He sets down the instrument and comes to slot himself against Percy’s side, thoughtlessly, as if that was always where he was meant to be.

“I’d like to formally introduce you to my fiance, Adam. And Adam, this is my family.”

His smile broadens. “Hey, great to finally really meet you guys. Percy talks about you all the time. Did you have a long trip?”

They look at one another for a moment until finally Herc shrugs and says, “Only about twenty-five trillion miles, give or take.”

The happy couple linger for a moment longer, sharing stories and talking about honeymoon plans. Adam is especially thrilled when Andromeda and Zeta begin to co-narrate an embarrassing tale from Percy’s childhood in the Alpha Persei Cluster. Eventually though the pair wander off together, leaving the star-folk to their most harrowing challenge yet: mingling.

“Sorry, what did you say your name was?”

“Camelopardalis.”

The guest, one of the couple’s mutual friends, goes a bit bug-eyed. “Wow, okay, that’s really cool. Kind of a mouthful though. Got a nickname?”

“Nick… name?”

“Like, something that your friends call you for short. My friends call me Dee, but my highschool nickname was Dent.” They point to a scar on the side of their head, just above their left ear. Their fair hair is buzzed short, making it easy to see. “Long story. What if for now I called you ‘Cam’?”

They consider it. “I think I’d like that.”

“Cool, nice to meet you, Cam.”

“Nice to meet you, Dee.” They hesitate. “Would you say you’re a man or a woman?”

Dee frowns.

“Nevermind! I’m so sorry, I just don’t understand the earth gender binary at all. Everything about it just seems so arbitrary and senseless.”

Oddly enough, their new friend perks back up at this.

“Honestly, same,” they laugh.

Andromeda joins shortly, having struck up a conversation with Dee’s partner who is deeply intrigued by his review of “The Chest from The West”. The three of them spend a while swapping book recommendations. Meanwhile, Zeta gets hit on by a slightly intoxicated young woman with an undercut and an eyebrow ring, although the star-dweller vastly misinterprets her none-too-subtle questioning about alien biology. Cass meets Adam and Percy’s pet dog, Chowder, and deems him as good a companion as the convenience store cat.

Herc catches Percy alone in the kitchen and the two have a long overdue talk. It’s clumsy but earnest, and when Herc mumbles something out about possible future family visits, Percy throws himself into his brother with such vigor that he momentarily forgets about gravity and starts to float off the ground.

“I’m sorry too, by the way, for the whole thing with the list,” he sighs. “It probably seems pretty stupid, I just kind of hoped I could get you to see this world the way I see it. Full of life and love and adventure.”

“And music,” he finishes, catching the way his gaze flits back to the patio. To Adam, singing softly and dancing with one of their friends.

He nods. “I thought maybe then you’d understand why this is so important to me.”

“I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to see earth the way you do,” Hercules confesses. “But I don’t think it was stupid of you to try either, and I don’t think it was for nothing.”

He reaches into his pocket and pulls out the mood ring. The friendly prismatic face of a cartoon alien glints up at him. Perseus takes the gift with an understanding chuckle and slips it onto his pinky finger.

“No, not for nothing.”

Tomorrow, there will be a wedding. Percy and Adam will stand in front of their friends and family and exchange their vows. Adam’s mother will complain about them not booking a proper venue for just short of an annoying amount of time, Maddie will bring out a ridiculously tall tier cake that will taste almost as good as one of her mother’s pies, and for once Percy will not be the worst one on the dance floor.

Tomorrow, there will be a bright silver band around Percy’s fourth finger, neighbored by a smaller ring in the shape of an inside joke, and with all the weight of a promise.

#aliens #original fiction #writeblr #short story #original writing #road trip #me? posting my writing again? its more likely than u think #lgbt #my writing

64 notes · View notes

collecting-stories · 4 years

Text

A Year Later - ep. 07 - JJ Maybank

A/N: I wanted to do an epilogue of sorts for The S’week and @d-reamingoutloud suggested looking into their lives a year after the story so that’s what I decided to do. Basically this is kind of where the reader’s relationship with them all is at.

The S’week Masterlist | Outer Banks Masterlist

✰ ✰ ✰ ✰

John B. Routledge - 

John B’s Hand slipped out of yours, both of you forming a fist to side bump in a variation of the secret pogue handshake that you’d somehow come to adopt as your own in the last year. You were standing on the edge of the jetty, cooler in your other hand. 

“You ready to go?” John B asked, taking the cooler from you and setting it down below the seat before he held his hand out for you to climb aboard. It was early enough in the morning that it was still dark outside but the light on the boat cast a glow across the marsh, a rather calming effect on you as you prepared to spend the morning fishing with John B. An odd sort of tradition that had come about last year and had just stuck. A time and place that neither of you had to worry about other obligations or other people’s opinions of your friendship.

“Yeah. New boat?” You asked, taking a look at the boat as you stepped on. John B stepped back to give you some room, nodding his head. 

“Got it last month, finally saved enough between rent and bills.” He replied, “being an adult sucks.”

“I hardly think 19 qualifies as being an adult.” You laughed, taking a seat as he pulled away from the jetty. It was still cold out for now, one of JJ’s hoodies keeping you warm as the light rush of air chilled your bare legs.

“It does when I’ve got bills to fucking pay.” John B replied.

“Touché.” You glanced back at him, “I thought you were doing the Winnebago thing with Kie? Surfing all the coasts or something?” 

Kiara was leaving at the end of the week to spend the summer in a Winnebago with a few friends from college. The last you had heard about the trip John B was tagging along too, eager, apparently, to get out of the obx. But here he was, spending his money on a new boat and seemingly unprepared to leave the island.

“Nah, I thought about it but...I don’t know. She’s talking about it being a fresh start and how I’m in a slump but I know if I go with her-”

You nodded, “not exactly a fresh start if you’re just tagging along with Kie wherever she goes.”

You loved Kiara but you knew that she had a constant want to fix her friends problems, always the mom of the group in a way it killed her that things had never gone back to normal after the s’week debacle. The Week that Must Not Be Named, according to JJ.

“Yeah, and listening to her try and fix things between everyone. I love her to death but the ‘we should put aside our differences’ spiel has yet to work on any of us.” John B replied, “except maybe you and Sarah.” 

“Me and Sarah are in it for life, she’s my like platonic soulmate best friend. I’d have to cut a part of myself out to not be friends with her anymore.” You admitted. Sarah could stab you in the back, and figuratively she had, and you would still be rooting for her in the end. You loved JJ and you cared about John B but Sarah was your ride or die.

“That’s really touching.”

“Oh shut up,” You laughed, tossing a flip-flop at him. “I love you too John B.”

“Yeah, yeah. Anyway, I was gonna say, I’ll take you up on your offer...if it still stands?” 

You’d came home almost every weekend because of your schedule but it was during spring break, on a day when JJ had work and you had gone over to the Chateau to hang out with John B, that you had mentioned your family’s vacation home in Hawaii. You usually went around Christmas and had that year, taking JJ with you for his first plane ride ever (which had been hilarious in itself). John B had mentioned wanting to get away from the obx and you suggested your family’s vacation home, free to him if he wanted to move out there for a little while.

“Yeah of course, whatever you need.” 

“A serious change of scenery.” John B replied. The Outer Banks had always been his home but it was feeling more and more like a prison the longer he stayed there. Especially when he felt like he was running into JJ everywhere he went.

“I’m guessing, if you’re aversion to Kie is that strong, you and JJ still aren’t talking?” You asked. It was an unspoken agreement between you and JJ that you never talked about his former best friend.

“I got nothing to say to him.” He shrugged, “I’ve tried, I swear...it’s just, every time I see him I think about it and I feel like I wanna drown him in the ocean.” 

“I guess you won’t be coming to the boneyard on Friday then?” 

“Nah. I’ve got you and Kie and I don’t really wanna see anyone else. I’ve tried hanging out with other people we just don’t vibe ya know? I miss feeling like I had that group...I’m not gonna have that feeling here anymore.”

“Hey I get that. When Rafe and I broke up I lost a lot of friends I thought I had.” You replied, “people can’t help feeling loyal to certain people.” 

“Maybe.” John B shrugged; it didn’t matter. Or he was trying to accept that he couldn’t change it. “But you’re here on the boat with me and we get along fine. You don’t try and bullshit me about JJ or tell me we should all be best friends again.” 

“It’s not my place. Besides, JJ and I have come to the agreement that we don’t talk about it.” You replied. It kept you both happy.

“Well it’s shit when you and Kie are in school cause then it’s just me and JJ on the cut.” John B admitted. He hadn’t complained too much about it during the school year but you knew that was just for your benefit. “What about you? I know you guys are cool but how is rooming with Sarah?”

“It’s good, feels like old times again ya know...JJ doesn’t come around, but...it what it is.” You shrugged.

✰ ✰

Sarah Cameron -

“I’m going to fail all my classes.” Sarah groaned, resting her chin on her forearms. She’d pushed her books away from her, forcing you to pick up your coffee when her textbooks threatened to knock it over.

Finals were in a week and both of you had been studying like crazy, meeting up in the dorm or in the library for cram sessions between classes. Sarah was already planning on going to Nassau the first week of summer vacation with Topper and some college friends. Even if nobody actually knew what happened last summer it still felt different being in the Outer Banks now.

“You are not, you’re literally one of the smartest people I know.” You replied, attempting to be encouraging as you texted Kiara about Pope’s birthday party coming up. Your books mirrored Sarah’s but you were taking a supposed break from studying for the five minutes your timer allotted.

“But not the smartest?” She asked, lifting her head and narrowing her eyes at you. She grabbed her own cup of coffee off the table and took a sip as she looked over the books again. Nothing had changed.

“I mean, I know Topper so...”

“Oh my god, shut up, I just fucking spit out my coffee.” Sarah laughed, covering her mouth with her hand and reached for a napkin. “For real though, why couldn’t my dad have pulled a Lori Laughlin and like, paid off my college?”

You slipped your phone back on the table face down, clicking the side when it rang and pulling one of your books closer to distract you from it. “Because then he would’ve gotten caught and you would’ve been kicked out and probably blacklisted and everyone would be like ‘that girl is so dumb her dad paid off the college to pass her.’ And you’d have to move in with me and work retail.” 

“Stop it. What a fucking nightmare.” 

“The living with me or the working retail?” You asked, laughing at the annoyed face she made.

“I’m gonna hire a new best friend who’s just like ‘yeah Sarah you’re so smart’, ‘your dad should pay for you to ace tests, you don’t need college’ and whatever other shit I pay them for.” She replied.

“You could pay me, I’ll be your yes man.” You offered, silencing your phone when it rang again.

“Who’s calling you?” Sarah asked, her attention drawn away from studying and Lori Laughlin to the phone that rang for a third time.

“What?” You looked up, “no one.” You’d told JJ that you would call him when you were finished studying and that you were busy but that didn’t stop the incessant calling once he decided he felt like talking to you. Normally you wouldn’t care but you did your best to separate JJ from your life at school because Sarah was here and you didn’t feel like it was fair to flaunt that in front of her, even if it was accidental.

“Seriously, I can see you clicking off your phone every couple minutes.” She replied, “Is it JJ?”

“Uh-” You bit your lip as you looked over at the offending electronic. It was no use pretending like he wasn’t the person on the other end of the call. You’d gone two semesters and a spring break without incident, surely, she wouldn’t care if you took one phone call. But you still felt guilty, you weren’t sure if that would ever go away. “It’s no big deal, I can talk to him later.”

“I’m fine!” Sarah insisted, “seriously I’ve got like a real date on Friday.” 

“I just wanna call him back real quick.” You replied, “I think it’s about going home for the weekend.”

“For Pope’s birthday?”

“Yeah.” You’d been staying on campus with finals so close but it you knew Pope was going to be home for the weekend for his birthday and Kiara would be there and you didn’t want to miss spending time with them. Especially since you wouldn’t see them again until hell week was over and you were moving out of your dorm.

“Kie mentioned it to me last week.” Sarah explained, “Are you guys doing anything special?”

“As far as I know it’s just the four of us.” You replied. John B hadn’t been hanging around either of his former friends. He still saw Kiara when she was home and you whenever you came home for the weekend, but that was sans JJ or Pope. If either of them was around than John B kept his distance.

“Go, go. Seriously, I’m fine.” 

You pushed your chair back as your phone rang one more time, finally answering it. “Okay. I’ll be right back.”

✰ ✰

JJ Maybank -

“I’ve been thinking,” JJ started to say, sitting on a chair in The Wreck with you on his lap. Before he could continue you raised an eyebrow at him, running your fingers through his hair to get him to look up at you.

“That’s never good.”

JJ stuck his tongue out but kept talking, undeterred by your comment, “...you should drop out.” He announced.

You laughed, knowing that JJ wasn’t serious at all. He’d been making the same suggestion to you since September. “No way in hell! Why would I do that?”

“So I don’t have to go weeks without seeing you.” He shrugged, fingers slipping beneath your shirt as he laid a kiss against your neck.

“A more tempting offer than I expected...what’ll we do on all these weeks spent actually seeing each other?” You asked, smiling. You couldn’t help but play along whenever he asked you to leave school. It was all just for fun, if anything JJ had the most supportive person you had in your life during school.

“I can think of a few things.” JJ replied, squeezing your side and brushing his nose against your collar and neck.

“Oh god.” You laughed, “stop we’re in public. There are families with children here.”

“How do you think they got the kids?” He shrugged.

“You’re a terrible person.” You replied, “come on, Kie and Pope will be here soon.” 

“You’ve been home for like an hour and you’re already dying to see our friends instead of me.” JJ whined.

“An hour? Babe, I got in this morning...we spent the whole morning ‘unpacking’ in my room.” You pointed out. You’d taken the earliest ferry over that you could and met JJ on the docks. It didn’t matter that you’d just seen him two weeks ago or that you facetimed him every night, seeing him in person gave you the best feeling in the world. It was undeniable.

“Okay, I know I did not come all the way here just to watch you guys mack on each other.” Kiara announced as she came over to the table.

“Came all the way over? You fucking work here Kie.” JJ replied, rolling his eyes as you got up to give her a hug. He frowned at the loss of attention, even if he did know that going out with everyone meant not getting you all to himself.

“I had to go pick up Pope and then drive back.” Kiara said, as if that was a viable excuse.

“I’m like five minutes away...walking.” Pope pointed out, giving you a hug before grabbing a seat next to JJ.

“No, move.”

“I’m not moving!” Pope exclaimed, “dude, don’t push my chair.”

“He’s being a brat cause I’m apparently more excited to see you guys than I was to see him.” You replied, laughing as Pope smacked JJ’s hands away from his chair. You sat across from your boyfriend, sticking your tongue out at him.

“You are.”

“I am not!”

“She is.” Kiara said, grinning at you, “it’s okay I know you only date JJ so you can hang out with us.”

“Hey!”

“I know, what am I gonna do while you’re away?”

“It’s okay,” Pope said, reaching across the table and putting his hand over yours, “I’ll still be here.”

“Thank god.”

“Okay, seriously, the three of you are the worst.” Despite his words when you looked over at JJ he was smiling, eyes brighter than they’d been when you met him almost a year ago. Things weren’t perfect but they were good.

Taglist: @maplelattes22 @poguesrforlife @freckled-and-daydreaming @chasefreakinstokes @millie-753 @fangirlwithme @alex12948 @katherine097 @tangledinsparkles @carbonated-beverage @mariofgreengables @damonsalvawhore27 @dopedoodes @dolanfivsosxox @belledutchess @poguelifeeee @faded-blue @parkerpetertingle @thebookwormlife @summer-clouds-and-long-days @jellyfishbeansontoast @minigranger @hoewkeye @love-someone-special @tiredfeels @strangerthanfanfiction713 @the-only-nana @tomzfrog @mozz-are-lla@poguestyleskye @ssprayberrythings @jenahbell @beautyandthebleh @gothackedalready @teenwaywardasgardian @sarahcxmeron @haha-fuck-you-thot @stillbelieve398-5 @rewindlr @queenniccimicci @kissessforharryyy @thedarkqueenofavalon @alytavzla @bqmblebee@linniep @nerdypartytrashpsychic @xxchxrryxx @spencer-reid-is-a-cutie @mirjanak @danielladreaming @obx-saltlife @youngestxhearts @spnobsessedmemes @wowitswondergurl @celestialmaybank @mybnkjj @pineappleandcherries @mysterious-adventurer @justawilddreamerchild @rhyetaylor62 @calm-rejects @balletandyuzu @oh-annaa@aiifandomsunite @x-lulu @ceruleanjj @wicked-laugh @obxwriterfan @allie-mcginn@pcterparxer @literarycharleton @khiaraaa-in-spacee @crushe-s @teamnick @daydreamlilys @collectiveuniverses @activist-af @mdgrdians @buckys-sunflower @vindictive-hearts@copper-boom @talksoprettyjjx @5am-cigarette @smiithys @jolomez @timotaychalabae @pixelated-pogues @booksandshish @ponyboys-sunsets @prettyyboyspence @obxlife @downbytheouterbanks @pancakefancake @danicarosaline @sspidermanss @k-k0129 @apoguecalledjj @annedub @mendesmaybank @httpstarkey

172 notes · View notes

edie-k · 3 years

Text

Legally Ginger - Prologue (PG-13, Romione)

Now, for something totally different...

Title: Legally Ginger

Chapter 1/9

Rating: PG-13 (I use fuck more than the MPAA allows for PG-13 but that's a stupid rule - there's no explicit content)

Pairing: Romione endgame

Summary: When Ron Weasley's college girlfriend declines his proposal because he doesn't meet her standard for future husband, he decides comes up with a plan to let her see him in a new light.

Notes: This is an AU Muggle reimagination of Legally Blonde. It's very different than anything I have ever written - and my first chapter story. I intend to update each Monday.

Thank you to adnei for all of her beta feedback!

While I really enjoy Legally Blonde, it has some things that need a bit of updating or calling out in the year 2021. This fic will attempt to do those things but not lose the fun and fluffiness of the concept.

Also... I love the pop culture/time capsule references of the movie so plan to see that same vibe in this fic. If any of them are unclear to you, let me know in the comments because I love to talk pop culture!

Finally, lots of our favorites are scheduled to appear throughout the story - I eagerly anticipate all guesses as to who will be who!

Disclaimer: Neither Harry Potter or Legally Blonde or any of their characters are owned by me and are not being used for profit.

Link to AO3 or click below to read more.

“Hey Tim!” Ron Weasley shouted, raising his hand to greet the guy behind the coffee cart but not breaking his stride.

“Hey Ron! Thanks for that recommendation. She loved it!”

Ron grinned and kept on running his recreational route that wove through the Los Angeles campus of California University. Even though his cross country career had come to an end with the conclusion of his senior season this fall, he didn’t intend to let his personal records slip. In fact, he was almost working harder. If everything went according to plan tonight, he planned to be competing in the iconic Boston Marathon next April.

“Ron! We still on to study tomorrow?” shouted his chem lab partner Kelsey as he strode past her.

“Yep! We’re going to rock that test out!”

“Hi Ron!” he heard a few female voices chorus together as he passed the Zeta Beta house. Several girls were doing yoga out on the front lawn.

“Great form ladies!” he yelled back, grinning as he heard the giggles.

He grabbed his shirt to wipe his forehead and glanced at his watch. 4:30. He was approaching the house and he had time to do some cool down stretches, shower, check that they had enough brothers to cover the Animal Aid fundraiser tomorrow, send his Econ professor his problem set, and dress for dinner before he had to leave for the Delta Nu house.

He slowed to a jog as his feet hit the driveway. He took the porch steps two at a time before entering the house. Immediately, he was greeted by a snort.

“Pig! Good boy,” he greeted, scratching the pug behind his ears.

“Come on boy,” he said, starting up the house stairs to his room, Pig following dutifully behind. As president, he lucked out with his own room with an en-suite bathroom but as was typical for his life, it wasn’t empty.

“Hey brother brother!” two voices said.

Ron rolled his eyes at the twins. “That joke will never be funny.” Fred and George grinned, one sprawled on his bed and one in his desk chair.

“We just have this last semester to even make the joke. Afterwards, it’ll be pathetic,” Fred said.

“That 40k is so close I can taste it,” said George.

His twin brothers were two years older than him, however, they’d dropped out after their sophomore year to open a retail shop selling joke and novelty items. They quickly realized they were more interested in conducting their own research and development; manufacturing their own products to distribute and sell. It was certainly more profitable. In order to get the seed money, they returned to college after two years. Their schooling, like Ron’s, was financed by his Aunt Muriel and upon receiving their bachelors degree, Muriel also handed over a $20,000 cash gift. The crotchety old broad put a lot of value on their schooling.

“And little Ronniekins is going to spend his on a girl,” Fred teased. It was then that he noticed Fred was fiddling with the small gray ring box that had previously been hidden in Ron’s sock drawer. He moved to snatch it back but Fred tossed it across the room to George.

Ron frowned. “First, I’m not spending it all on a girl. Part of it will be for the wedding and the rest I’ll save for a down payment on a house. Maybe not in Boston because we may not stay there after she finishes law school.”

“Oh yes, Bah-stan,” George mocked in a truly terrible accent.

“Yes. She’s sure that it’ll happen. She’s a legacy or something like that. I hope so because I think Boston Beer Company is going to make me an offer.”

“Free Sam Adams? I’ll take it,” Fred nodded.

“Secondly,” said Ron. “She’s not just a girl.”

The twins groaned. “Ugh, Ronnie, there’s no free beer yet. I can’t listen to this sober.”

Ron rolled his eyes.

“I have to ask,” started George. “Are you sure about this? You’re so young and it hasn’t been that long. You could still go to Boston with her without getting engaged.”

While it was annoying to get another “you’re too young” speech, it wasn’t often that his brothers asked him a serious question. “I’m sure. She’s the one.”

“Well then,” said George, flipping the box to him. “Go get her.”

A few hours later, he was shifting nervously in his seat at their table at Chaudron Qui Fuitfont, playing with the same gray ring box in his pocket. The dinner course had been cleared and they were now waiting for dessert to arrive as well as the bottle of champagne he’d surreptitiously requested.

“Astoria, have I told you that you look absolutely breathtaking tonight?”

“Just three or four times,” she laughed.

“Well, I might tell you a few more,” Ron said.

“It’s not everyday that you put so much effort into a date. I had to deliver on my side as well,” Astoria replied.

“It’s appreciated,” Ron smiled. “I-I appreciate everything about you. How gorgeous you are, how driven… the past 18 months with you has really made me sit down and focus on what I want for my future, you know?”

“That’s great, Ron,” Astoria said, reaching across the table to give his hand a squeeze. She glanced around him. “I want another glass of Merlot.”

“Yeah. You know I’m in the final stages for jobs at three companies,” he said.

“Mmm,” she said distractedly.

“Including Boston Beer Company,” he added.

“That’s a reputable company. Although make sure the job isn’t on the Truly brand. They’ll never get the market from White Claw. Mark my words, they’ll fizzle in two years.”

“Astoria, I see my future with you.”

She looked up at him sharply. “What?”

“Yes. I love you. I’m ready to start the next stage of our relationship. Astoria - ” Ron stood up, pulling the ring box out.

“No.”

“Will you marry me?” Ron asked, kneeling next to her.

“No, now get up.”

Ron’s blood suddenly ran cold. “Wha-what?”

“I said, no, now sit down.” He numbly followed her direction.

“Ron,” Astoria sighed. “Oh, honey, I’m sorry.”

“But… why?”

Astoria gave him a pitying look. “Look, we have had so much fun. You’re a great guy.”

“Great guy? You told me you loved me,” he hissed, trying to keep his voice low to avoid more embarrassment.

“And I do. As a college boyfriend. You are a great college boyfriend. You’re president of the second best fraternity on campus so you get all the best party invites. You’re on the cross country team so I can tell everyone I’m dating a Division I athlete, but you aren’t in one of those sports where it like, takes up all your time. You had a cool internship, everybody on campus loves you because you volunteer and help and you’re nice to everyone, even the janitors. You’re sweet and you’ve got a great body and you… you know,” she dropped her voice now “always deliver on what’s promised. You’ve been the perfect person to spend the last few semesters with.”

“I… I don’t understand what the problem is. I sound great from what you’re saying,” Ron seethed, frustration clear in his tone.

“I need a man for the next part of my life. Not a frat boy, not even if he doesn’t exactly fit the stereotype. I’m going to Harvard Law School in the fall. Do you understand how big of a deal that is?”

“Yes! That’s why I am pursuing a job in Boston. To be with you.”

“At a beer company.”

“I’m not opening a bar with my buddies. It’s a research and development role at a major corporation!”

“You have a degree in food science,” Astoria replied, rolling her eyes.

“It’s not like we spend all our time eating. It’s a real field. I got an A in Organic Chemistry.”

“Org Chem with Murphy. The serious students take it with Professor Kettle.”

Ron just gaped at her.

“If I’m going to be a federal judge by the time I’m 40, I need to stop dicking around. And I’m sorry, you’re not a Marty Ginsberg.”

“Yeah, well, I’m not an Armie Hammer either. Feels like there’s some wiggle room between those two extremes.”

“You’re a great guy. And I’m sure you’ll be a great husband to a marketing specialist or a pharmaceutical sales rep. And maybe if I was going to go to Wayne State or Northwestern, things would be different. But this is Harvard Law. There are just… expectations that any potential spouse meet a certain intellectual bar. Or at least a social bar. I mean, my sister is engaged to a Kennedy!”

At that point, the waiter approached the table with their desserts. Astoria stood up. “I’m really sorry. I’ll just call an Uber.” She paused and kissed him on the cheek before exiting the dining room.

“Uh, should I wrap these to go?” asked the waiter as Ron watched Astoria leave.

#au romione #romione fanfic #romione #ron x hermione #ron and hermione #ron weasley #ron weasley defense squad #hermione granger #muggle au #hp fanfic #fanfic

10 notes · View notes

angelsfalling16 · 4 years

Note

Hello there! For the Meet Cute ask...how about 20 or 44? Thanks! 😁

20. You walk out of a dressing room asking if the outfit suits you, but it’s not your friend waiting outside the room like you thought.

44. You fix your hair in the reflection of a window to see them smiling at you through it.

Hi!! Thanks so much for the ask! I had a lot of fun with this one, and it got a little long, so I’m putting most of it under a cut. I hope you like it! :)

20. You walk out of a dressing room asking if the outfit suits you, but it’s not your friend waiting outside the room like you thought.

(Meet Cute Prompts)

Simon

"How do you think this outfit looks?" I ask Penny as I step out of the dressing room. Only, when I push aside the curtain, she isn't standing there.

In her place is a guy who towers over me in his knee-high boots with shiny laces up the front, which nearly hide his dark pants that seem to be painted onto his legs because they’re so tight. It takes me a moment to drag my eyes away from his legs, and when my eyes meet his, his head is tilted to the side as his eyes slowly look me up and down.

"Well, the outfit isn’t bad, but I'm sure we could find you something better."

"I—. Wh-what?" I stammer out.

We? Is this guy offering to help find me clothes?

He stares at me for a moment longer before saying, "Wait there. I'll be right back."

He's gone before I can stop him, and I'm so stunned that I do what he says and wait for him.

I wonder where Penny went. Hopefully she gets back before that guy does.

Does he work here? He wasn't wearing a name tag and he didn't have that same bored look that most of the other employees have. He looked almost excited to be helping me. I guess it's possible he's a new employee who hasn't yet had his spirit broken by the soul sucking demands of retail.

I feel a bit awkward just standing here, but I can’t say that I’m not at least a little bit interested to see what he brings back for me to try on.

When he does return, he has an armful of things to put on. I take them without a word before returning to the dressing room, not really sure why I’m going along with this.

The jeans are a little tighter than the ones I usually wear, but they still have some give to them. They aren’t as tight as the ones the guy on the other side of this curtain is wearing. (I wonder if he can even sit down in those jeans. Are they so tight they would just rip? How does he get them off? With scissors?)

I fasten the jeans and move on to the shirt. It's a plain blue t-shirt but it has to be one of the nicest t shirts I've ever worn. No, not one of. It definitely is the nicest. It’s soft and hugs my torso in a way that is actually pretty comfortable. Who knew a t-shirt could feel this nice? I definitely didn't.

I slip the jacket he handed me on next. It’s a simple dark grey bomber jacket, but it pairs nicely with the blue shirt. After one last look at the finished outfit, I push aside the dingy, floral curtain to await my judgement.

I almost expect the guy to have disappeared when I step out, but he's there, waiting for me, and penny is still nowhere to be seen.

"You're wearing the jacket all wrong," he says almost immediately. How can I be wearing a jacket wrong? "Take it off and I'll help you."

I frown but take it off anyway and hand it to him. I watch as he shakes it out before holding it up for me to slip into it as though he’s a parent dressing a child. I just stare at him, wondering if he’s serious, but when he doesn’t move, I sigh and slip my arms into the sleeves.

“Good,” he murmurs. It feels weird to receive praise for simply putting on a jacket, but I can’t deny how nice it sounds coming from him.

He gently pulls on me until I have turned back around to face him, and he fusses with my shirt for a moment before moving on to the jacket, tugging at the sleeves until he gets them where he wants them. Then, he starts in on the collar of the jacket, straightening it out from where part of it had gotten tucked under when I put it on.

His fingers graze the side of my neck, and I’m certain that I imagine the way they linger there for a moment longer than necessary.

When he finally stops fiddling with the jacket and takes a step back, I have to remind myself to breathe. For some reason, my heart is racing in my chest, and I’m struggling to take in air. The guy admires me for another moment before nodding.

“That’ll do.”

It’s a wonder I’ve been able to dress myself for all of these years, I think.

Only, I must have said it out loud because the guy responds by saying, “Yes, it truly is.”

I scowl at him before moving over to check my appearance in the mirror. I have to admit that the whole thing does look good. I never would have picked out this outfit on my own, and I’m actually grateful for his help.

“This will be perfect for the wedding,” I murmur.

“Wait, wedding?” The guy asks, and I can see his eyebrow quirk in his reflection from where he’s standing close behind me. “Oh no, this is not the right outfit for a wedding. This won’t do at all.” He’s shaking his head at me and frowning now.

“I think it looks nice,” I say with a shrug, turning back to face him. “The wedding is more of a small, casual thing. This will be fine.”

He just keeps shaking his head at me, more vigorously now.

“You can dress casual without wearing jeans and a t-shirt. Man, do we have a lot of work to do.” He pulls his phone out, types something into it, and returns it to his pocket before saying, “Alright. Let’s do this.”

“Do...what?” I ask, a little distracted with wondering how he managed to fit in phone in his pants when they’re that tight.

“I’m going to help you find something to wear to the wedding.”

“What?”

“It’ll be great.”

I shake my head, not believing that in the least bit. I glance around me, hoping to spot a way out of this situation – Where is Penny? – but find nothing.

I could just walk away, but I find myself not really wanting to. I want to see how this plays out, and I don’t want to part from this guy just yet.

***

By the time we’re finished, I’m buying the first outfit plus a new suit that is nicer than anything I have ever owned. I mean, who buys suits when you can just rent one? (Lots of people, according to this guy who seems to have suddenly disappeared.)

I pay for the suit, trying not to worry too much about the price, and when I turn away from the cash rep, I see Penny walking towards me.

Sure, now she’s here.

“Where have you been?” I hiss at her.

“I went a couple of stores down. I texted you. Didn’t you see it?”

I pat my pockets in search of my phone, and that’s when I realize that I left my phone on the bench in the dressing room, where it’s been sitting for the past forty-five minutes, untouched.

I go retrieve it, and when I pick it up, I see two missed texts from Penny, and I groan inwardly. If only I had checked my phone sooner, maybe I could have avoided all of this. Though, it really wasn’t too bad. I even enjoyed it a bit, all of the trying on different things before he found that suit for me to try.

I return to Penny and find the guy from before has returned and is talking amiably to her, wearing a quiet smile.

“Hey, Simon, this is Baz,” Penny says, gesturing at the guy in front of her. “He’s in one of my lit classes.”

Baz? That’s an interesting name.

“We’ve met,” Baz says.

“Really?”

“Um, y-yeah. We met while you were gone,” I explain. “He actually helped me pick out a couple of things."

“Oh, cool,” she says like it’s the simplest thing in the world and not like some guy I don’t know just spent almost an hour picking clothes out for me.

“Well, I should be going,” Baz says. “My friends are waiting for me. I’ll see you two at the wedding,” he adds with a quick wave.

“Wait, what? The wedding?” I ask confused, but he’s already walked away, so Penny is left to explain.

“Yeah, the wedding next weekend. He’s one of the groomsmen.”

“Oh,” I say stupidly, staring after him. What a strange coincidence.

This should be interesting, I think, my cheeks warming as I remember the way his fingers skated over my arms and sides as he helped me get the suit situated right. They left sparks in their wake that I ignored at the time, but I’m not sure I can ignore them anymore. Not if I’m going to be seeing him again.

I wonder if he’ll help me fix the suit when he sees me. (Maybe I’ll wear it messy just to tempt him…)

My heart does a flip at the prospect of seeing him and having his hands on me again, and it takes me a moment to realize that Penny has begun walking out of the store without me.

I jog to catch up to her, and thoughts of Baz are in my head for the rest of the day. I find myself suddenly excited to go to the wedding.

#snowbaz #snowbaz ficlet #simon snow #baz pitch #carry on #wayward son #rainbow rowell #simon's obsession with baz's jeans was honestly accidental #but it's fit so it's alright #lol #i kept wanting to write baz going into the dressing room and kissing him #but it didn't really fit #so i left the ending open #but dw simon and baz get to together at the wedding #it's inevitable #(and baz does fix his suit haha)

43 notes · View notes

sanderssidesfanfiction · 3 years

Text

If There’s a Place I Could Be - Chapter Seventy

If There’s a Place I Could Be Tag

August 27th, 2000

Emile was trying not to bounce around looking at everything on campus, but he couldn’t deny the spring in his step. He was so excited to be around a real college, that he was going to be attending! He was looking forward to this more than words could say, honestly.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw another tour group, and noticed one of the guys in it trudging along at the back of the group. Emile inwardly frowned. He had seen this guy around campus a couple times, and every time he looked like he would rather be anywhere else.

Emile resolved to say hi to him at some point. After all, everyone needed at least one friend, and this guy looked like he didn’t have any yet.

August 26th, 2002

Emile led the wide-eyed freshman around the campus with a small smile. All of them were so excitable, chattering about the possibilities of no longer living with their parents, of being able to meet new friends, of getting jobs and being adults. The freshmen were allowed to wander the campus for a bit, and Emile sat down on one of the benches with a sigh. Hesitantly, one of the freshmen from another group approached him. “Uh...sorry to bother you, are you Emile?”

“Yeah, that’s me,” he said, offering a tired grin. “Completely exhausted and certifiably insane, according to my boyfriend.”

“Oh. Um, I can go if you want a break...”

“Nah, it’s okay, sit down,” Emile sat, patting the bench beside him. “What’s eating at you?”

The kid sat down, fiddled with his hands, staring at his lap, then, he looked at Emile and blurted, “I’m not sure if I want to go to college.”

Emile nodded. “Okay.”

“Okay?” the kid asked. “Everyone I told before just...laughed.”

“I’m not everyone,” Emile said simply. “You’re part of Clara’s group, aren’t you?”

“Uh, yeah. She said I should talk to you about this because of your boyfriend. Um. He’s not part of the freshman orientation, is he?”

Emile laughed. “No!” he exclaimed. “Remy dropped out of college his freshman year and never looked back.”

“Oh,” the kid said. “He doesn’t...regret it?”

“No,” Emile said. “College just wasn’t for him. And that’s perfectly okay for anyone. Granted, he doesn’t talk to his parents anymore, but that’s an entirely different layer of complicated.”

“My parents...they’re kinda overbearing,” the kid said with a grimace. “They didn’t like any of the majors I might have been interested in. They made me choose pre-med. I would have rather gone with English, if I went with anything at all. I know there’s not a lot of jobs for English majors...but I’m not sure about college, period. And I would want to learn what I wanted to learn about.”

Emile nodded. “Makes sense. I’m sorry your parents are like that.”

“Eh. I mean, fourteen years of school later and I have a PhD and no reason to talk to them anymore,” the kid said with a weak smile. “But I don’t want to be here. I don’t like it. I just...I would rather have a minimum wage job for the rest of my life. I could live through retail, and like...maybe I wouldn’t make the most money, but I could do something, you know?”

“Yeah,” Emile said with a nod. “That’s what my boyfriend is doing. Two minimum wage jobs and I work a third, so we get the bills paid and we have food on the table.”

The kid blew out a breath. “I’m jealous,” he said with a weak laugh.

“What’s your name?” Emile asked.

“Darren,” the kid said.

“Darren, I’m going to tell you a secret,” Emile said, putting a hand on his shoulder. “You can change your major to whatever you want, and your parents don’t have a say. They don’t need to sign off on it. You’re an adult, you can do it all on your own. Now, I wouldn’t recommend dropping out of college just yet, because if you can get through it without harm, it can help you. But if you really would rather work retail, maybe get a Communications or a Business degree. Those could help you become a manager someplace. Get a job, get your foot in the door, and work your way up the corporate ladder, you know?”

Darren nodded slowly. “I guess...” he said reluctantly. “What if I burn out, though? I’ve already done so much school, more just seems overwhelming...”

“If you burn out you’re under no obligation to continue,” Emile said. “But I of course have to tell you to give it a shot first, if for no other reason than because I’m currently promoting the college.” Darren laughed at that. “Did that answer some of your questions?”

“Yeah,” Darren said, giving him a relieved smile. “College isn’t the only way to go. You know, I think I’m gonna change my major when school starts. And after that, I’ll call my parents and explain. Maybe if they hear how I feel directly from me, they’ll change their mind. In all honesty, I think I could be happiest at a trade school. Maybe they could help me with that.”

“I hope so,” Emile said with a smile. “And if not, you can do it on your own. It won’t be easy, but you can.”

“Yeah. Thanks, Emile,” Darren said, standing.

“Of course!” Emile chirped. “If you ever want to talk more, Clara has an uncanny sense of where I might be at any given time. She can find me.”

Darren laughed with a nod and walked away, a small, hopeful smile on his face.

“You didn’t tell me you’re already a therapist, Emile,” Remy said from behind him.

“I’m not. I’m just a good listener. I listen to what you say and I listen to what he says, and then I use what you’ve told me to talk to him,” Emile said, looking back over the bench with a smile. “What’s up?”

“Just checking on you. Seeing how you’re faring with the gremlins,” Remy said with a grin as he leaned on the back of the bench.

“We were those gremlins not so long ago,” Emile reminded him.

“Ugh, I know. Definitely not my finest moments,” Remy said with an exaggerated shudder and eye-roll.

Emile laughed and Remy rounded the bench to sit with him. “So, how’s everything, mio amore? Are you attacked with nostalgia or are you cringing at the thought that you were bouncier than most of these freshmen?”

“Nostalgia, I guess, although I don’t really get either of those,” Emile said. “I’m more...astounded. Like, these kids are going to be going out into the world on their own in four years, possibly sooner. Looking back on what we did, I’m shocked that we could achieve that. You’re eighteen, nineteen years old, you know you’re not invincible but you still feel like you have a grip on everything, like you understand the world enough to do things on your own...and now we’re sitting here, twenty and twenty one, and we’re both just laughing at how wrong we were.”

Remy nodded. “Brain development is a bitch,” he said simply.

Emile barked out a laugh, clamping a hand over his mouth as he shook in his laughter. “Remy! That’s rude! These kids are technically adults!”

“Technically,” Remy pointed out. “And you just called them kids.”

“Look,” Emile said, trying his hardest to remain serious and failing. “All I’m saying is that looking backwards is weird, knowing what you thought but now realizing that it was so wrong.”

Remy sighed. “Yeah.” He got a glint in his eye that Emile didn’t like. “So I have a question based on that,” he said, waggling his eyebrows.

“I don’t like where this is going. Ask me,” Emile said.

“Do you think you’d still donate your sperm today?” Remy asked with a wicked grin.

“Remy!” Emile exclaimed, whacking Remy with his arm. “Can you imagine what would happen if one of the students I was supposed to be teaching about the campus overheard that question?”

“I imagine they’d ask if you got any money for it,” Remy said with a shrug. “Would you?”

Emile made a noise in the back of his throat. “Yeah, probably,” he said. “And I wouldn’t be anonymous, either. Those kids have the right to know where they came from, and if I get sick later down the line they should know there’s a risk for that. I might not be so convinced that someone would actually use it, but...”

“Hey, Emile, you’re cute, you’re smart, and you’re probably gonna end up with a PhD one day. You’d be a catch for any lady at the sperm bank,” Remy said definitively.

“You say that,” Emile laughed. “I don’t know exactly how much you’ll believe it later down the line, when we get older. We’ll probably look back at that decision one day and figure out that I was stupid.”

“Nah, I don’t think so,” Remy said. “You wanted to help families become families. That’s not stupid, that’s admirable.”

“So would you donate yours?” Emile asked.

Remy choked and stared at Emile. “No,” he said. “No. I’ve never had a deep-rooted desire to have a family, whether that’s through donating my sperm or settling down and adopting. Like, I’m not against families, you know? But when it comes to being a dad, I don’t know how well I’d do.”

“How come?” Emile asked.

Remy shrugged. “I dunno. Like, I would not want to end up being like my parents were, you know? And I could overcompensate trying to not be them and wind up ignoring kids, or I could fall back into old habits and hurt them. Like. Okay, looking at us ten to twenty years from now. Assuming we’re still together. Were we to adopt. Could I see myself being a competent dad? I guess. There’s a lot I’d have to work through to get to that point, though.”

“Are you talking, like...therapy, or...?” Emile asked.

Remy sighed. “Emile, I don’t need a therapist. Not at this point in time, maybe not ever after this, you know? But in this hypothetical situation, I could see unforeseen circumstances making me panic and possibly needing to...talk that through with someone. So maybe I don’t need therapy now. But if we’re talking hypotheticals, I’m not blind. I know there could be issues that come up with kids. So in that one specific circumstance, there’s the possibility I’d need therapy. You happy?”

“Is it bad if I say yes?” Emile asked with a little laugh. “Because I’m just glad that you could see yourself needing help and accepting that help.”

Remy wrinkled his nose. “It’s not needing help, it’s therapy.”

Emile blinked. “That’s...those two things are exactly the same, Rem.”

“No, like...therapy is for people with PTSD, or people who got seriously hurt, or people who are stereotypically seen as ‘crazy,’ much as I hate that term,” Remy said. “It’s not just about needing help with, like, feeling like you have a dead-end job or whatever.”

“Rem, that’s exactly what it is,” Emile said. “Therapy is help with whatever is bugging you in your life at that moment. So you went to therapy because your parents were making you suicidal. That doesn’t mean that it can’t help with smaller things.”

Remy squinted at Emile, and Emile rolled his eyes. “I can’t believe we’re back to arguing about this. We went through this freshman year, Rem!”

“Yeah, but you’re...you’re describing it differently,” Remy said.

“Not really,” Emile said. “You’re seeing it in a different light, because you’ve matured.”

Remy frowned. “I don’t get therapy. I just don’t.”

“That’s okay, since you’re not the one training to be a therapist,” Emile said with a little laugh. “Although, I will say that I agree with you, by and large. You don’t need a therapist.”

Remy looked shocked. “You’re agreeing with me on that one?”

“You’re well-adjusted, all things considered,” Emile said with a shrug. “Whether or not you want therapy or could benefit from therapy is a different question. But right now, you don’t need a therapist.”

“I...wow,” Remy said. “That may be the first time you’ve ever said that I don’t need mental help.”

“I hate when you phrase it like that,” Emile said. “It makes you sound like you’re that stereotypical ‘crazy person.’ People who go to therapy just need help, period. Not in the ‘they’re hopeless’ way, but in the ‘they’re struggling and this is how they find their footing’ way.”

Remy considered. “And that’s all it is?”

“That’s all it is,” Emile said. “And you don’t need a therapist, and I won’t force you to find one. But I will say that if you do ever need help again, there’s no shame in that.”

“...Yeah,” Remy said. “I think I’m starting to figure that out.”

#if there's a place i could be #sanders sides fanfiction #remile #emile picani #ts sleep

4 notes · View notes

yurtletheturtlehenderson · 4 years

Text

Lethobenthos || Mike Hanlon x Reader

⊳ Ch. 2: The Butcher's Daughter⊲

A/n: on the off chance that y'all know about butcher shops and meat or whatever, im so sorry cause even though i did a bunch of research, I know it's still pretty inaccurate so please don't come for me �� EDIT: I am crying cause I have 950 followers 🥺🥺🥺 I love each and every one of you guys, thank you so much babes 💞

Warnings: Alv*n Marsh being Alv*n Marsh. He briefly leers at reader. There's no comment, but it still needs a warning i feel. Also, long ass chapter. I truly don't know how to write short chapters, yall. Brief mention of animal death (natural causes) and signs of a PTSD attack. Marker for PTSD attack will be labeled [●●●]. Safe reading loves

✎﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

- 𝐉𝐮𝐧𝐞 𝟏𝟗𝟖𝟗 -

ℕ𝕖𝕤𝕥𝕝𝕖𝕕 𝕚𝕟 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕙𝕖𝕒𝕣𝕥 of Costello Avenue Market, sandwiched between Terry's Barber Shop and one of the finer footwear retailers in town, was Derry's very own, Quality Meats. A quaint little shop - as quaint as butcher shops come, that is - right smack in the middle of the street, just across the road from the Capitol Theater. It was always a treat for Y/n L/n when the annual fourth of July parade was in full swing, she always had the best seat in the house from her bedroom window. It sat just above the shop, and truly had the best view overlooking the street. But the parade was weeks away, and it couldn't come soon enough.

For now, she was stuck in her daily routine at her father's butchery. Every morning it was her job to prep the shop before it opened, check the stock, and assure that everything was in order. Her father oversaw the shop but most of his time was devoted to preparing and tending to the meat in the back. This also left the task of receiving, inspecting, and storing meat upon delivery to her.

Her favorite part of the week. Because it meant seeing her favorite person, Mike Hanlon. He was the delivery boy who supplied some of their best selections, straight from the famous Hanlon Homestead. But this was not what thrilled her, what thrilled her was the company of the thoughtful boy. They had met the previous year when her father had hired him for deliveries, Mike had just taken up work at his grandparent's farm and the two quickly hit it off.

Mike was her saving grace. She never had the stomach for her father's work, and despite their weekly heated arguments on the matter, she'd get stuck with the tasks. At the very least, he didn't force her to work in the back in the meat locker. Not anymore. He had learned that lesson the hard way when he dragged her in despite her kicking and squirming - he figured she was just being dramatic, throwing a fit. But low and behold, it all ended with him clearing out the locker for sterilization when she got sick.

Now the only times she ever stepped foot inside was to get to the back door, which is something she didn't do - something she couldn't do - without plugging her nose and blocking out her peripheral vision as she slipped through the back door to greet her best friend.

An occasion, she feared, that she faced as she glanced impatiently at the clock on the wall for the fourth time on this hot June day. Mike was usually pulling up outside the store by now, hell, she clocked out at four to spend time with Mike and it was already three forty-five. Well, three forty-eight according to the shop's clock which one could always rely to be just three minutes fast no matter how much you reset it.

From her spot behind the counter, she had a limited view of the sidewalk outside. A variety of people passed, but none of them were Mike, the person she most wanted to see. And it certainly didn't help that a crowd of people were bunching up near the door, blocking her view of the window.

Three sharp notes from the counters bell broke her from her trance, throwing her harshly back to reality. A rather intimidating man stood on the other side of the counter, he was quite tall and everything about him put Y/n on edge.

"Sorry sir," Y/n mumbled, not feeling very sorry at all. "How can I help you, today?"

The man seemed to rethink his anger, though she would have preferred it over the new look on his leathery face. A wry smile stretched his lips and Y/n did not fail to notice his wandering gaze, only proving her first impressions to be correct. She felt her skin crawl and she did not fight the disgusted look cementing on her face.

"Just don't let it happen again, sweetheart. Now listen up, I'm in a hurry," Christ, she thought, even his voice is unnerving. "I need a pound and a half of the ground round beef."

"Right away, sir," she says, through gritted teeth. "One moment,"

Y/n hated when people ordered when her father was in the back, even though it happened often. Not just because she despised such tasks as grinding the meat and preparing it, but talking to the customers was never a favorite of hers. This was a fine example why.

Instead, she slipped into the back where they kept their stock that wasn't on display and began preparing the meat with a wrinkled nose.

"Fucking creep," she mumbled.

She wished she could say this was the first time something like this had happened, but unfortunately, Derry was filled with scummy people. Something did seem familiar about him though, she might have seen him here before. It'd make sense, Quality Meats was the only butchers around for miles.

Deciding she didn't want to dwell on it any longer, her mind began to wander. Anything that wasn't the man waiting out front really, thankfully that was easy enough. Hopefully, the rest of her workday would go by much quicker so she could meet with Mike. He said he had a surprise for her, and she had been wondering about it all day. The very thought fills her stomach with butterflies. Well, Mike did that all on his own, anyway. He always brought out that side of her. A bubbly, giddy side of her that always seemed to lose any sense of time around him.

Just ten more minutes, she thought. Just power through.

With the order all prepared, she returns to the front counter to find the man leaning against the counter in boredom. Great, now I have to redo the counters, too. When he spotted her, he straightened up and gave her a disapproving once over.

"What took you so long? I'm in a hurry. Fixing your hair couldn't wait, or something?"

Oh, a sexist fucking creep, she mentally corrected herself.

A snarl curled its way onto her face, but before she could make a bitter remark her dad's voice boomed across the shop.

"Well, if it ain't Alvin Marsh," The man in question moved his attention to Y/n's father, and remarkably enough, a somewhat friendly smile appeared on his face. "Good to see ya,"

"You too, always a pleasure,"

Y/n watched the exchange with shocked uncertainty. It frankly appalled her that this man was capable of being friendly, and even in such limited time in his presence. More importantly, she wondered, how could her father know this man? Why would her father know this man? Everything about this Alvin Marsh guy set her teeth on edge, and the only word coming to her mind for how to describe him was... slimy.

"So," the butcher asked, gesturing around the shop. "is there anything I might be able to help you with? Or has my daughter taken care of you, already?"

Y/n watched with great disdain as the man returned to her with another pointed look, glancing down at the packaged meat ready to go. He looks as if he's mulling it over, and finally, he clicks his tongue.

"Sure," he nods, looking back to her father, chuckling dryly with one elbow back on the counter. "when she found the time,"

"Ah, I see," He nods, sending a disapproving look to his daughter.

"Y/n," he sighs, nodding in the direction of the back of the shop, still a stern look upon his face. "Go wash up and clock in early, I'll take care of Mr. Marsh, and the rest."

Her mouth parted, ready to argue - not out of disappointment, for there was none, but to defend herself - when her father cut her off with a warning look.

"Now?"

She sighed heavily, her head rolling with her eyes as her arms snaked around to her back to untie her apron. At least she didn't have to pretend to care anymore now that she was technically off the clock. Her feet dragged across the ground subconsciously showing her frustration. As she made her way to the back when she heard that godawful grating voice again.

"Unbelievable, isn't it? There's just no respect anymore."

Y/n rolls her eyes when she hears her father chuckle. She sighs as turns the corner and hangs her apron up.

"Yeah, I got one of my own at home. Gorgeous little one, feisty too. But one hell of a mouth. Real bitch sometimes,"

Wide-eyed, and seeing red, Y/n is unable to take any more and heads farther back, slamming the door behind her, not caring if she took the fall for it later. Hell, she just might take the meat locker over that. She's shaking with rage, and his words echo in her skull still as she washes her hands. Her hands begin to sting and she realizes she had lost herself in thought and was just about to wear her skin down under the water as she scrubbed. Y/n shook her head, killing the water and drying her hands when her mind finally manages to break away from the creep when she thinks of the time.

Fuck, it's already five!

Quickly, she heads for the door to the meat locker, her nose already plugged when she pushes it open. Luckily, these trips were always fairly quick given the back door to the ally was just a few steps away, but what she saw when she stepped inside completely threw her through a loop.

The back door was wide open.

Upon first glance, she figured her father had opened it, and even though that was the most logical explanation, it didn't make sense. He never left it open. Not when he wasn't there. He was a stickler about that. Her head whips around the locker, but she was the only one. Fighting the urge to take an anxious deep breath, she creeps forward and peers around the corner, not knowing what to expect.

Her E/C eyes widen happily and relieved when she realizes it was only Mike. But her happiness vanished just as soon as it had come when she saw the state he was in, nevermind the fact he was laying in the heap of recycling!

"Mike!"

He jumped as she stepped out into the light, the entrance to the meat locker was quite dark from where he sat. And before he knew it was her, all he had seen was something moving in the shadows towards him. Y/n felt her heart tighten at the sight, something clearly must have happened, and it must have been bad for him to be startled by her.

Not unlike herself, though, he seemed to calm significantly when he realized who he was in company with. And yet, he still wasn't speaking. His eyes just bore into the darkness of the entrance, still panting heavily. Thick beads of sweat slid down his face.

"Mike," she knelt beside him, subtly checking for any signs of injury. "what happened?"

"I..." he gulps, finally breaking his gaze away and looking at her. "don't know."

Her eyebrows raise a bit higher in question, and curiously she searches his eyes. "Do you want to talk about it?"

Despite the comfort of her gaze, he breaks himself away from it to look back into the dark abyss, fearing It would come back. Whatever It was. And as he does so, he swears he can still hear the rattling of the chains and the bleating of a goat, and the very very very back of his skull was the chilling sound of a clowns laugh.

"Mike?"

He realizes he hasn't answered her yet, and quickly he shakes his head 'no'.

"Here, let me help you," she rises to her feet, extending her hand.

He gladly takes it, and despite his lingering fear from his encounters, she still manages to send a spark through his skin just with her touch. Little did he know, she felt the same way. Y/n pulls him to his feet, and already, his attention is centering away from the locker and towards her. She's watching him carefully, and only now does he fully process the intensity of the worry held in her eyes.

"I-I think I'm okay," he stammers, chest still heaving with his labored breathing. "really."

Y/n nods after a moment, concluding he must be telling the truth. Over time she had picked up on Mike's body language, including all of his tells. For instance, she could usually tell when he was hiding something. He'd always tug or scratch at his ear. Or when he was lying, the ends of his lips would twitch up. Almost as if subconsciously offering a guilty smile before quickly suppressing it. But Y/n found no such thing, and she felt the muscles in her shoulders relax.

"Good," she sighs with a weak smile, her eyes falling to the ground. "Here,"

Her hand leaves his and immediately, they both miss each other's touch but say nothing of it. She steps around him and begins picking up the many packages of meat that had spilled out of the basket. He joins her, just as soon.

"Oh," he steals a glance at her, a small smile creeping up on him. "thanks."

It goes away just as fast, his heart still aches from how hard it had been beating. Y/n does not fail to notice his darting glances over her shoulder at the meat locker. They both rise to their feet, and Y/n casts a confused glance over her shoulder before turning back to him.

"Are you sure you're good, Mike? You don't seem yourself,"

He sighs, not entirely sure himself. His shoulders rise and fall in a shrug, and his lips part to speak but the words die in his throat when he hears the sudden and obnoxious revving of an engine nearby. He flinches, head jerking in the direction of the sound.

A ghostly expression washes over Y/n, and her anger visibly rises in seconds.

"Was it Bowers, again?" She scoffs, just enraged at the thought of him and she even begins to stammer as she grasps for an insult, anger clouding her brain."That-That bigoted fucking... dickhole!"

She stomps her foot and huffs, unable to properly deal with the overwhelming amount of anger and exhaustion building up in her. Mike looks at her with the tiniest hint of a bemused expression. His brow shot up and he almost felt a chuckle come out. Almost.

"Dickhole?"

"I know, I know," She chuckles dryly, the ends of her lips twitching up. "Shut up,"

The chuckle in his chest breaks loose and he feels as if another piece of stress has been chipped away. A long process in the making, but it was better now that she was here. Mike had yet to find out, the same went for Y/n. Mike placed the packages he had collected thus far back into his basket and Y/n popped her head back inside to grab a small bin by the door. She brought the small container over, placing the few packs of meat she carried inside and the two filled it in a matter of seconds. Any trace of a smile has fallen off her face as she looks back up at her best friend, shrugging.

"Well, he is," she defends. "All of them are. They're wrong in the head, Mike,"

"Can't argue with that," He shrugs, sending a grimace down the alleyway where the Bowers gang had just disappeared. "Need any help?"

"Nah, I got it. Thanks though," she grabs the bin, holding it against her frame and sends him a short smile. "Be right back,"

He answers with a curt nod, his sweaty palms unknowingly rubbing against his jeans out of nervous habit. She disappears back into the darkness, and Mike immediately feels the weight her absence leaves. The guard she had coaxed down had returned, plaguing his mind as several scenarios spiral out in his brain.

He couldn't tell her about the clown, he'd sound crazy! Hell, maybe he was. At least that's a what small voice told him in the back of his head, but deep down he knew what he saw was real. Real to him. Shaking that terrifying image from his brain would be harder than he thought.

Don't forget the turtle.

Mike shook his head, bewildered at the intrusive reminder his brain sent him. It was a strange sensation like the thought was not his own. It was a gentle voice speaking directly to his subconscious like a radio with interference. And yet, it didn't frighten Mike. Not at all like the dark, intrusive thoughts that had been occurring lately. This was soothing and gentle. Nonetheless, the message sent his hand flying for his pockets.

Relief swept over him when he felt the small lump in his right pocket where the gift resided. He smiled to himself at the thought of giving it to Y/ n. He had been working on it all year, a small wooden turtle he had carved himself in the many free moments he had stolen on his grandparent's farm. Mike couldn't quite pinpoint the exact moment he had decided to make a turtle, or that it would come to be such a big secret he would keep until he could give it to her. He had just sat down one day and started carving as if something had compelled him to do so.

And now here he was, ready to give her the small carved necklace. Mike was quite proud of it, not only was it his first carving but he had managed to secure it nicely in a thin - but sturdy - string of twine. Mike takes the time to spare a glance at the darkened doorway where his best friend disappeared, before his hand descends into his pocket, his heart hammering against his chest. His hand fishes amongst the pocket of denim and lint where his fingers find the cool touch of wood and twine. He pulls out the necklace and it dangles in the air as he carefully inspects it.

Was the twine fastened tight enough? Was the belly of the shell smooth enough where it would rest comfortably on her chest without splintering? Most importantly... Would she like it?

He sure hoped she would, given her connection to the reptile. She spoke often of it, the turtle that visited her dreams. Y/n never thought much of it, it had become merely a topic of conversation meant only for small lulls but she did find it funny the reoccurring figure. She described it as being the same turtle somehow, and it was never a threatening presence but a calm one. Like a guardian almost. It was a small and silly feeling that abandoned her by the time she was up and awake but little did she - or Mike - know just how deep the connection ran.

These were all thoughts that flooded Mike's mind but he quickly has to put them and himself at ease. The hiss of the airlock to the meat locker and the backroom reached his ears and quickly he stuffed the necklace back into his pockets. When Y/n returns, looking far less than relaxed do all of his previous worries evaporate into the humid summer air. His hardened stare never leaves her troubled frown as she locks up the side door, all the while he grabs his bike.

The pair falls into a comfortable silence as they head for the back of the alley where Y/n's bike was hidden. All that hung in the air was her defeated sigh that had accumulated after a long and stressful day, and the buzzing of cars as they passed by on the main road behind them. His worries now gone in the wake of her newfound stress he pulls up a curious brow as he walks his bike alongside her.

"Rough day?"

Y/n laughs dryly, nodding to her best friend as they round the corner and picks up her bike. "You could say that."

· · ─── ·𖥸· ─── · ·

The town of Derry was quaint and rather cozy upon first glance. Quite a charming spot on the map with its snug downtown streets filled with local businesses such as Quality Meats. And one couldn't help but admire the long and beautiful running waters of the Kenduskeag stream that bled out from the Penobscot River, under the town and out into the Barrens stretching past the old train yard. The Barrens were the stretch of woods just outside of town.

And it was precisely these woods that the pair had found solace in the cruel and evil world they called their home. Months after their meeting, they had both explored the Barrens and to their luck, they had stumbled upon the Fort. The Fort was what Y/n and Mike called the large pit they had discovered past the train yard and just over the stream. You had to swing across an old rope swing they had found, but that made journey all the more fun. They almost hadn't seen the Fort behind the fallen trees walled around and piled over the top.

The way the trees had fallen it had created a rather spacious room just below the earth. When inside, one could see through the branches slats and out into the rest of the Barrens without being easily spotted. It made the perfect hideout from those who wished to see them harmed, and it also made a wonderful makeshift amphitheater. It was often they would look up from their conversations and see the wildlife walking around just feet away, still unaware of their presence.

This is where they found themselves now, deep amongst the thickets, far away from their everyday troubles. It wasn't until they had abandoned their bikes at the stream to cross and venture deeper inside did they finally feel the effects of the change in scenery. At long last, the weight that settled on their hearts and troubled minds began to evaporate slowly as they inhaled the fresh and pleasantly overwhelming aroma of pine and fresh dirt. It blended perfectly with the dewy oak that hung in the air after the past week's summer storm, as did the gentle breeze that managed to reach them after a long journey through the trees.

The sight of the Fort puts the last of their darkest thoughts to bed - for now. The crunching of twigs is the only sound that reaches their ears as they approach their haven. It is then that it occurs to Y/n, the birds have stopped singing. Come to think of it, she hadn't heard any birds in weeks. It was quite unusual considering these woods of all places were where their song carried the loudest. It was as if they were all... hiding.

She realized even the atmosphere felt different, and not just in the Barrens. It had been a thought blooming in the back of her mind for the past few months; that the town had been cast into a dark shadow. While Y/n had lived in Derry all her life, it had always felt mysterious to her. But this was different, it was darker. Like a cloudless storm had rolled into Derry, with no intention of leaving.

Mike brought her from her trance, pulling her gaze back down to earth from where it was previously fixed on the treetops.

"I feel it, too."

"What do you think it is?" Y/n asks finally.

Mike's lips crease into a flat shrug, eyes flitting to the ground as his shoulders briefly rise.

"I don't know," he sighs, his gaze trailing up to where hers laid in the treetops as if expecting to see this so-called storm with his very eyes. "But it's nothing good,"

Her hardened frown turns back to the forest floor, blinking several times as she reached for a thought that was fast asleep in the farthest corner of her brain. It almost didn't even feel like a thought so much as a part of her brain itself. But it quickly dissipates as calm washes over her, taking with it any budding anxieties. She could almost laugh, none of this made sense. Y/n had been waiting all day to be here with Mike, and now she was.

Y/n wasn't going to let anything ruin that. Or so she hoped.

A coy smile plays at her lips as she picks up her pace towards the Fort, and swiftly she navigates through their hidden entrance. Her hopeful attitude is just infectious enough that it takes to Mike, and warmth blooms in his stomach as he quickly follows her. His feet bring him to the entrance of the Fort, and through the slats, he can see Y/n settling in.

The sight of her relaxing brought a small smile to Mike's face, and quickly he joined her inside. The welcoming effect of the Fort just as soon touched him as it had her, and never had he been more relieved to see the sight around him.

Soft light from the gas lantern bathed the small dome inside the earth, illuminating the many mossy branches perched above their heads. Several discarded wooden boards lay tucked into the dirt beneath their feet, creating makeshift wooden floors that had long been covered in several spare blankets they had brought. While the dome was just that, it was not a perfect circle. It was a bit uneven but this gave the pair the advantage of a single corner. This is where they kept the single beanbag they had managed to get their hands on.

It was just as they had left it, a warm and cozy corner of the world that belonged just to them. It smelled just as the forest around them, only more intensified in their close courters.

[●●●●]

Y/n stumbled away from the bean bag suddenly with a horrified shriek, her band coming to rest shakily over her mouth as she backed into the dirt wall behind her. Mike jumped to her side, eyes wide and fearful as his mind conjured every horrible possibility. The fear from the alley returned.

"What? What's wrong?"

A heavy sob was building in the far back of her throat, her wide e/c irises were beginning to dilate and her limbs trembled. Mike recognized within moments what had caused her such distress, having recognized an attack of hers like this only twice before. But the pain of seeing her so distraught was burned in his brain so he might never forget. His hand that had come to rest on her shoulder now brought her into his embrace. As she stumbled numbly into his arms he saw her eyelids screw shut, and several heavy tears were squeezed free.

"Hey," he whispered soothingly, his hand rubbing circles in her back. "Hey, it'll be okay. You're not there anymore, you're not there. You're not there..."

Slowly but surely her breathing becomes less ragged, and he can feel her head nodding into the crook of his neck as she takes in his words. Y/n's sniffles are loud in his ear but he couldn't care less. Mike just wanted her to be okay. He only now realizes he was still muttering sweet nothings into her ear as he feels his mouth grow dry.

"We're okay, Y/n. You're safe."

She takes a long and trembling breath that he can feel in the crook of his neck. Her breath brings out goosebumps on his skin but he quickly banishes the thought away in her troubled state. When she speaks, her voice is barely audible, even from beside his ear.

"Thanks, Mike,"

All he can find himself doing is pressing a flat smile to his lips, his eyes glazing over sadly at the limp pigeon in the corner behind the beanbag. The sight brings a strong and forceful wave of sadness that washes over him, but he knows it is not quite the same kind of sadness as she is experiencing. Finally, after almost twenty minutes have passed, she breaks away, sniffling.

Mike feels the weight on his heart triple in size when she pulls away to reveal her puffy eyelids. The whites of her eyes are laced with red veins, and her trembling lips let loose a few shaky breaths. Immediately, she does all she can to wipe away the tears, but the evidence of her sadness remains. She shakes her head, disappointed in letting herself show this side and chuckles bitterly as she clutches her aching chest.

[●●●●]

"I'm sorry,"

"No," he says, shaking his head. "Don't do that, okay? You should never apologize for this. For feeling anything. You have your own baggage, just like everyone else."

She chews the inside of her lip in a nervous habit, heat creeping up in her neck.

"Sor-"

He eyes her warningly, and she bites back a sheepish smile and clears her throat. "Okay."

He studies her for a moment, not aware he is even doing so as her swollen eyes trail sadly across the room where the pigeon lays. He can hear a mournful whine building in her throat before he cleared his own with a somber expression.

"It's okay, I'll take care of 'em."

A weak, thankful smile flickers across her face and she watches thoughtfully as he rises and crosses the fort to the pigeon. He grabs one of the spare towels they kept around - sometimes the old rags they spread across the wooden grates would need a quick replacement, as they discovered the hard way - and knelt before the limp bird. Y/n finally rises to her feet decidedly and slips past Mike and outside the Fort without a word, a rusty trowel now in hand.

· · ─── ·𖥸· ─── · ·

The pair now stood before a small lump in the dirt, their heads pulled down with gravity as they stare at their feet. After Y/n had dug a small grave, Mike had buried the old pigeon, and the two had managed a small eulogy. Hosting a small funeral for a pigeon is certainly not what the two had envisioned their day would look like, but oddly enough, it was cathartic for both of them.

Mike was hardly old enough to remember his parent's funeral. The same could be said for Y/n, and like Mike, she hadn't exactly been emotionally or mentally present for her mother's funeral, for when the time came she had still been in quite the state of trauma. Y/n didn't like to talk about it, and in their year of friendship Mike had only recently found out, but she had been the one to find her mother's body as a very young child. So it was no surprise the familiar sight of the limp body brought her such distress.

As her glassy eyes stare numbly at the mound in the dirt she feels a soft yet somehow calloused hand slip into her own, giving her palm a light squeeze. Her head feels heavier than normal in her crestfallen state, she notices, as she picks her stare up off the ground to look at Mike. He wears a small and gentle smile for her and gestures past her head towards the Fort that lies beyond only a few feet.

"C'mon. We should settle in before it gets too much later."

Her thumb flitters across his skin in response, and she nods. The two of them make their way back to their hideaway, the sounds of the earth beneath their feet filling the pensive silence once more. When they enter, her eyes flicker to the seat she was previously ready to occupy. A small shudder passes through her and she instead chooses the pile of blankets across the cramped room.

Mike settles in beside her, his hands flying back to his pockets again to ensure the turtle remained on his person. Sure enough, the small wooden necklace could be felt floating amongst his things inside his pocket. He breathed a silent sigh of relief, one she would have caught had she not distracted herself with the task of fishing out their stored away activities. A deck of cards was pulled from the small and rusty tin lunchbox they kept there for storage, soon to follow was an equally rusty - and rather dusty - silver spoon. Y/n shrugs with the spoon in hand.

"We could play Spoons or something?" Y/n suggested half-heartedly, her eyebrows falling into a curious frown. "Or was there something else you wanted to play?"

He gulps nervously though he doesn't quite understand why he was even nervous in the first place, it was Y/n! Then again, all the more reason for his heart to be aflutter... It was Y/n.

His sweaty palms return to his jeans and he wipes them anxiously hoping to keep his hands dry, and he sends her a weak and nervous smile.

"I um," he cleared his throat, and she emptied her hands, curiously turning all her attention to him. "I uh, wanted to show you something I made?"

"Oh," she says, a bit taken aback. "Yeah, okay. What is it?"

Any and all responses he had gone over previously in his mind vanished into thin air, leaving him speechless. All he could do at that moment was fish into his pockets, his fingers lacing around the string as he pulled out the necklace. It dangles in the air, the soft golden light from the lamp beside them illuminated the many grooves engraved into the wood that created the illusion. It sways back and forth before their eyes, but his gaze is set not on the turtle but her.

Her eyes had widened in reverence, and he could feel his heart swell with pride. She shakes her head in disbelief, the ends of her lips tugging up in a smile.

"This is incredible, Mike!"

He can feel a heat in his cheeks and the tips of his ears that could rival the summer sun. His grin widens bashfully.

"Thanks," he says, gesturing towards her with the necklace, inwardly cursing at himself for this moment not going as smoothly as he had hoped. "It's, uh. It's yours. I made it for you. This was the surprise I was telling you about."

Her attention is on him now, and he can feel his heart skip a beat. He notices that the swelling in her eyes has gone down a little, but the smallest of beads pool in her eyes. She was welling up a bit.

"Mike," she breathes. "Thank you. I... Don't know what to say, I feel like "thank you" isn't enough."

He shrugs as she takes the necklace into her hands to examine it more closely, her thumb tracing the shell of the wooden reptile as she gapes fondly at it. Unbeknownst to Mike, her stomach won't stop its series of flips. Finally, she looks back up at him, and he's happy to see the first genuine spark of glee in her eyes he had been longing to see all day. The pride in his chest grows even bigger knowing he had been the one to make her feel better, even if it was only a little.

"I love it." She says finally.

Y/n takes the necklace by the twine, parting it in two as she brings it to her neck. Her eyes are travel across the fort as her tongue pokes out from between her lips thoughtfully as she attempts to secure the necklace in place. She struggles for several moments, muttering a few frustrations to herself as she fumbles to tie the knot properly without it slipping from her fingers first. Seeing this, his own stomach doing a flip, Mike scoots himself closer and gestures to her neck.

"Here, let me," he offers.

A heat rages up from her neck and to her cheeks and ears, not unlike Mike had moments ago but she complies and turns herself so he can reach the back of her neck. He takes the twine from her hands, their fingertips grazing briefly creating a matching storm of butterflies in their stomach. And as Mike sets to work on the knot, neither of them can see the brilliant grins stretching across their faces that they wished to hide from the other.

"There you go," he mutters shakily, praying she can't hear his voice wavering.

She does, but it only sends her heart racing faster. She mumbles a 'thanks' as she turns back around, and sends him another thankful smile as she simpers down at the turtle that now hung from her neck. Already her fingers had snuck up to her neck to fiddle with the turtle, and a warmth washes over her.

Y/n does not know whether it was her nearly intoxicating feelings for Mike, his kindness, the reassuring presence of the turtle, or perhaps all of the above, but she now felt a great deal better. It was as if a great weight had been taken off of her shoulders, the banishing of great unease as she wore the necklace now. Perhaps it was all in her mind, but Y/n rather enjoyed the strength the gesture had brought her.

And maybe, just maybe, Y/n could take on whatever the future might throw at her.

✎﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

Black Lives Matter m resources, what you can do to help. Link in the comments below, can be accessed on any computer.

Support black owned businesses! There's this great app shared by @lovechlmt on Twitter, which I found on a post from Tumblr but either way I downloaded the app and it is a great way to find black owned businesses in your area! Please download and use if you can! It is called Black Nation

As I've heard, there is a wonderful website that provides therapy specifically for black and other poc, so you can speak to someone who shares your experiences and can truly get you the help you so deserve. Particularly black women. Its a simple url: therapyforblackgirls.com

Here's the description provided from @ madamblack on tumblr for the info:

"This reminds me, if y'all haven’t heard of therapyforblackgirls.com please visit if you need a therapist. You can search by mental health need, location/distance, insurance, etc. I believe there are some that provide a sliding scale payment method for those without insurance.

If you’re not quite ready to make the jump, there is a podcast you can listen to as well as articles and links to help answer some of your questions about mental health and/or therapy.

The purpose, as I understand it, is to provide a place where black women can go to find culturally sensitive therapy. Some specialize in family/couples as well.

Take a look."

[Link]

I'd also like to provide additional resources that were added on to this source, this being a collection of free therapy resources found by @ ntbx on tumblr:

[Link]

As well as Black Minds Matter UK resource from @ girthcobain on the very same post.

[Link]

✎﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

Taglist:

@loversclwb @bibliophilesquared

Let me know if you would like to be added!

#lethobenthos #mike hanlon x reader #mike hanlon x you #chapter two the butcher's daughter #mike hanlon rewrite #MH rewrite #it reader insert #it reader rewrite #mike hanlon #chosen jacobs #derry maine #you'll float queue

22 notes · View notes

twiststreet · 3 years

Note

I'd be curious for more of your thoughts on that Hibbs piece. I've read him for years and often find him insightful, but this one seems very reactionary in a very typical retailer way ("blinkered" was a good word Kim O'Connor used). Particularly, he seems to pretend that Diamond is just fine as is and that DC had no reason to want to switch distribution. I recently swore off DC, but I've noticed since the switch that those comics have been on time at my lcs each week. Diamond, not so much.

Yeah, I don’t really agree with that (I missed whatever Kim said), though I really don’t know what’s going on at a retail level. I haven’t gone regularly to a comic shop in years.

(Setting aside the health stuff, which is the most striking thing in there:) Hibbs is a retailer writing from a retailer perspective, so wishing that he was saying something else”... I mean, we know what we’re signing up for when we read it; we know how to slot it into our own personal worldviews. I’m not to going to complain that Hibbs isn’t going to tell me how long to cook a steak for, or that he’s not yelling that the Direct Market should be dismantled because if those were what I was looking to read, the egg should be on my face for pulling him up to begin with.

The question with Hibbs I think I always have is “how representative is he of retailers generally, as a store in San Francisco.” (And I think people slightly overstate how non-representative he is because if you hear him talk about his operations, he makes clear he operates differently for different retail audiences, when he had that second store going-- I don’t know if that’s still a thing, but. And also: I don’t fucking know what it means to be San Francisco anymore because what is that city even...). But generally, you know, you take that data point into consideration but still try to get at what you’ve signed up for, when you read what he says-- where are retailers’ heads at... You know, you go “well if Hibbs is at 8 then even adjusting -2 for factors x y and z, that mean Joe Median-Store might be at 6 and 6 is great / isn’t great, etc.”

Hibbs has always erred slightly worried, on the spectrum of human reactions, so you know, (even though I personally tend to be drawn to that more than optimism), I’m not sitting here going “I bet DC’s going to license all their characters tomorrow because he says so” because it’s not like the first time I’ve heard that-- though it remains entirely possible, possibly a good idea for the suits (though probably not for anyone else), who even knows. (Though if you’ve been listening to Rob Liefeld talk on Robservations about Heroes Reborn you’ll already know a significant challenge that would face-- that if they do a trial balloon, the people who already entrenched will do whatever they can to poison the trial balloon so as to make the case for not doing it and remaining entrenched...)(that becomes tougher after multiple waves of layoffs, though).

But what he’s talking about-- DC just did its own Heroes World...? As soon as I heard all that to begin with (and I didn’t pay close attention because the world was happening), my first reaction was “oh shit, Heroes World!” So a comic retailers saying “this is looking the same after __ months in these specific ways” ... I’m going to pay attention to that. I just remember how spectacularly unlikely it was that comics cleaned up the mess they’d made of themselves in the 90′s. It was a ridiculously unlikely set of events that turned things around, and I don’t think you can reasonably expect those events to happen again. (Especially after the “we learned a lesson from the 90′s” part turned out to be a lie, which is something I know I was yelling and screaming about for years and I was getting called like “ungrateful” or something by the Serious Comic Voices of Seriousness for it, there were entire CBR blog posts about how I didn’t understand how great things were now, etc, etc, etc... I don’t think they pull that “we learned not to rip people off” lie again, not this batch of assholes. Though who knows, maybe....)

I mean, sure there are criticisms of Diamond to be had, of trad retail to be had. And there’s the giant black box of “how desperate are people right now” that hasn’t been reported on. There was a time in ‘02-’04 or so when a book distributor or somebody like that went down, and it almost took out Fantagraphics with it. And this seems worse than that! Where’s the money flowing here and whose debts are getting paid first? I don’t have any idea. There’s all these systems in play that have been knocked out by COVID, and who knows who’s owed how much money or how much product is sitting in a warehouse collecting warehouse fees, etc., like this is all a fucking disaster and there’s no reporting on it (comic reporters are too busy encouraging Damon Lindelof to make Watchmen TV shows) and there’s ... DC is a black box in a black box in a black box (he said, having waited for 3 years for DC to answer an easy question once).

But even if DC had good reason to do whatever it did? It doesn’t seem to matter much if the rest of the comic market’s built around Diamond and if no one has the health of the Direct Market on its radar. And DC doesn’t if they fucking fired everyone who understands the health of the Direct Market as even being a fucking concept to begin with, which is extremely likely at this point. Or ... I don’t know-- it’s the old comic problem of people wanting to argue that “the thing is bad an we need to replace the thing.” Diamond’s bad and we need to replace it. Okay. With what? And with comics, the answer is usually “moonbeams and hopes and hugs.” There’s just a lot of wishful thinking out there that a Better Answer just shows up. I don’t know about that...

Comic retail’s built around selling Batman. For DC’s moves to be this impactful, that’s a problem at the core of the system. The undoing was in the origin. So i get that criticism, and it’s well taken (except to the extent there’s an entirely speculative argument built around it that either (a) there would be some other system that’d exist but-for and (b) there’d be some flourishing of human creativity but-for). But that’s still a lot of people and a lot of human energy that’s at issue. And the few life rafts that are out there, you’re not going to get a lot of people on them. Digital is a joke (according to me, a digital comic publisher! hahaha)-- hibbs if anything overstates the possibilities there because as a retailer, he doesn’t want to bring up that we’re in the Golden Age of Comic Piracy. (And ... I like being a digital comic publisher! I’m having fun. But). And bookstores-- bookstores are great, provided your readership expectation are 10-14 year old girls. Which might be better for comics if that became the default comic as compared to 35-50 year old bachelors that’s the DM’s bread and butter, but... I think you probably have to be okay with a lot fewer people having gigs. Bookstores can’t even remotely support the same level of human activity that comic shops can, by the look of things. (You know at some point you have a larger cultural heat death going on, that’s the part I find interesting, but...)

I don’t know. Hibbs might be to an extreme. I might be to an extreme. But having seen people voting for Biden and then going “wait, he’s going to hire racist industry-controlled centrists?? we got nothing for our vote? we’ve been betrayed!”... having seen people talk about what a great human being George Bush was (I saw a tweet fucking today that was like “George Bush was underrated because he was nice to a trans person once”)... I’ve become very cynical about the human memory or ability to learn lessons. I don’t think people remember 1995-1999 in comics, and just... how ridiculous it was when that got turned around. It was like watching them pull off a fucking heist to turn things around last time... Comics are selling-- people are buying comics. So it’s not as bad as last time. It’s nowhere close. But... People overestimate how structured the industry is, and obviously the DC layoffs suggest that the people looking purely at the bottom line don’t understand and didn’t account for the unique levels of institutional knowledge required for the industry... Other media, you don’t hear about hand-selling as much. When have you ever seen a movie because the guy who owns the theater told you it was good?? Or because you saw the director standing over a flea market table looking like they were about to cry...? Like... I don’t know.

I do know for me, I want to start thinking about a next project, and I’ve been looking again at what the Big Hit Books have been these last couple years (I kind of avoided new stuff when I was working on my things) and... You know, part of what changed things in the early 00′s was there were new voices with a new style ready to come in. Now? Jesus, I don’t know. At first blush, everybody’s writing books nearly identically, and it’s just this massive level of bombast and confidence (good for them!) and huge splash pages and hyper-emotional narration and... it all just is this blockbuster schmear that’s very impressive but entirely skippable anyways. None of it’s as a bezerk or strange or just weirdly interesting to me as 10 seconds of a Metal Gear Solid video essay... it’s a lot of big splash pages of Thanos or Thanos-for-creator-owned-comics... But it all seems like halls of mirrors-- none of it seems very outward looking... You know, Kojima did halls of mirrors by the 4th game, too, but in Death Stranding, he had like Amazon deliverypeople, and you’d play the game and go “oh shit, this gig economy is making my formaldehyde-baby cry” and like... he had something besides the hall of mirrors to him. (And I mean, the 4th game is a criticism of the hall of mirrors, according to a video essay I saw, but...). Or you know, it’s like the thing that Rebuild of Evangelion 3 is criticizing, they’re doing unironically... I don’t know. It’s weird; the books are weird; I keep wanting to ask like “what should I be reading here” because I’m mostly ignorant besides a Hulk or a Long Con or Sink or ... I never saw the end of Seeds but I thought Seeds had something...

Sorry to ramble.

#Worst Hobby or Worstest Hobby?

6 notes · View notes

mobgaming957 · 3 years

Text

How much would it cost to build a gaming pc 2015

Tips For Starting A Gaming Blog

We've once again teamed up with our good friends at Dire Wolf Digital Studios to bring this remarkable game to your gaming table. Hi Frags, it all comes down to the excellent of visitors you get. Promoting stuff via your site is tough when there are only general content on it, but if you target a precise group of gamers and make a loyal following, recommending products gets a lot easier. It will also depend on the sort of items you sell, there are eventually a lot of aspects contributing to getting a prosperous gaming weblog. Truly glad you liked the write-up! I will absolutely check out your blog.

Genuinely glad that my blog inspired you to start your own. Yes it is really hard work and it requires some time to develop, but if you do it properly you can have a terrific on-line brand. Starting the weblog is only the beginning, so make confident to study the rest of my articles in the Gaming Blog Series which will take you by way of all the steps. If you have any inquiries do not hesitate to ask me, I'm delighted to enable exactly where I can.

With the abundance of established gaming sites present on the web, it is best to do some competitor analysis and research about the most preferred web sites and the newest trends in gaming to preserve your site up to date. A few search queries on Google would aid you see what are the most up-to-date trending subjects gamers are seeking at. This will support you see what most gaming sites have to supply, and how they present their content to their audience. You would also be in a position to locate out how to stand out and know your audience superior.

I got into action games late but when I did it entirely changed how I viewed gaming forever. The game which brought me round was Viewtiful Joe. Here was a game with a deep and open-ended combat technique which seemed to be built as a signifies for the player to express creativity. This method is then pitted against opponents and obstacles which had been made from the ground up to interact meaningfully with the core program. The course was fixed, but the system for dealing with that course was entirely down to the ingenuity, skill and inspiration of the player. You play like you have a large audience watching and the game continually entices you to enhance the concentrate is not just on obtaining the player from A to B, the concentrate is on obtaining the player to play Viewtifully”.

People are gaming on tablets, smartphones, smartwatches, consoles and quite a few other devices. This is the suitable time to take a plunge into the gaming market. If you are not a game developer it doesn't mean you cannot make some profit from it. Overall, developers are hunting into extra strategies on how to market their games and this is where you can turn into the next massive player.

Don't you want you have been definitely sitting on a racecar seat every time you play Forza, Gran Turismo, or any other racing game? With the racing seat design and style of the Ficmax Swivel Gaming Chair , obtaining this expertise is now a reality. The completely ergonomic Ficmax is designed with a completely retractable footrest to enable sooth tired reduce limbs and aid facilitate the much more efficient circulation of blood. It also comes with a lumbar massage assistance to assist avert or even handle low back discomfort which is very common amongst people who sit in an workplace chair for unusually lengthy period. Our handy guide to the finest ergonomic workplace chairs capabilities a lot more terrific products like this.

Take 10 Minutes to Get Edge With MATCHING

Paul: Our organization model is development focused and we cover three important regions in the gaming sector. Firstly, we're a international e-Commerce retailer promoting over 7,500 games from 450 publishers in over 190 countries to millions of gamers. Secondly, Green Man Gaming has a thriving neighborhood who talk about and track their game achievements on our neighborhood platform. This data combined with the industrial information of the retailer offers Green Man Gaming a considerable depth of know-how of our shoppers. Finally, we have a publishing arm that assists developers publish their own games and bring them to market, supporting them every step of the way. The fusion of Green Man Gaming's e-Commerce shop, a strong community producing billions of information points and publisher assistance sets us apart from our competitors.

Today's games are larger, superior, and additional immersive than ever. You can discover remarkable games across a wide variety of genres. Most big game franchises are out there on both PlayStation 4 and Xbox One, though the Nintendo Switch delivers a substantial selection of games suited for kids and families. For the most realistic visual experiences, upgrade to the PlayStation 4 Pro or Xbox One particular S to love breathtaking 4K and HDR gaming. Exclusive titles are obtainable for every single console, which additional underscores the need to have to strategy ahead and pick up the appropriate technique for your ought to-own games. Explore the massive collections of previously played games at fantastic offers and give your older consoles like the PlayStation three , Xbox 360 , and Nintendo Wii U continued life.

Nintendo 64 and PlayStation ushered in a new era of gaming. Polygons replaced pixels, and 3D rendering entered into the gaming vocabulary. Retro gaming hits like Crash Bandicoot, Mario Kart 64, and 007: Goldeneye pushed the limits of technology, and made the most realistic virtual environments observed up to that point. We also have some retro games for systems that could possibly not really feel as old as they are, such as PlayStation two, Nintendo GameCube, and the original Xbox.

Gaming content remains one of greatest methods to attain young guys. Tubular Labs reports that amongst millennial males, gaming— specifically, gameplay— ranks in the prime 3 categories for each 18—24-year-olds (#1) and 25—34-year-olds (#2). But what about ladies? As it turns out, adult women have not too long ago unseated teenage boys as the biggest video game— playing demographic, according to the Entertainment Application Association YouTube trends reflect this: Viewership among women has doubled year over year, and women over the age of 25 are the quickest-developing demographic for gaming content material.

So, to assist you monitor and fix these concerns, we've selected some amazing WordPress Gaming themes we can personally propose. They are highly accommodating to a wide range of purposes for your web sites. For your convenience, we've highlighted all their core capabilities, areas of usages and essential elements for these great gaming themes. Moreover, the list also consists of superb absolutely free WordPress gaming themesÂ so you can begin your gaming website with minimal fees. So with no additional ado, let's take a look at our list of each premium WordPress Gaming Themes and no cost Gaming WordPress themes.

Ask your self why you're considering starting a gaming weblog or youtube channel? If it is for the reason that you believe you have what it requires to be the subsequent PewDiePie or DanTDM (or TheTechieGuy ), then you are not alone. Nevertheless, your primary reason ought to be that you have an overwhelming enjoy for gaming. It does not hurt to have a terrific voice and something to contribute to the gaming network. (Of course, the perks ain't poor when they get started rolling in, either).

Previously, N'Gai Croal wrote articles for Newsweek, Croal left Newsweek back in March due to the fact he wanted to follow his passions slanted more towards the development finish of gaming. Croal describes himself as a inventive maverick that identified himself sidetracked in journalism, but this short-term exploration became one particular of the most remarkable things that Croal has ever carried out. As a journalist, Croal has enriched his own point of view and improved his understanding by way of journalism for the reason that he has written about a assortment of subjects.

Nonetheless, there is no need to have to do an internet search or read the most up-to-date in anonymous game critiques. Below, we have collected the prime 30 mobile gamer blogs to help put you in touch with garaf.online Steam pc gaming blog the most current and greatest in gaming, along with ideas for what to get subsequent, how to beat it, and what to remain away from. Whether or not for the most up-to-date iPhone or classic Gameboy, there are loads of mobile gaming blog entries for everybody.

Description: This gaming podcast is hosted by a crew of San Francisco developers, formerly of such studios as Telltale Games and Double Fine. It was started merely for exciting, where random conversations amongst the presenters have been recorded and place on the Internet. It is evolved into a space where the presenters get to speak about a topic they are passionate about, i.e. games - and the outcome is extremely enjoyable.

1 note · View note

dippedanddripped · 4 years

Link

It has been a prolonged period of retail carnage: storied names declaring bankruptcy, mass market brands closing thousands of stores, tens of thousands of shop employees furloughed or laid off, garment workers in dire straits. More ominous still are the predictions that we will never shop the same way again.

For Jamie Salter and David Simon, however, it has been a time of great opportunity.

Mr. Salter is the founder and chief executive of the Authentic Brands Group, a company known for buying the intellectual property of famous brands at discount prices and then striking licensing deals with other companies that want to stick those well-known names on their products. Mr. Simon is the chief executive of the Simon Property Group, the largest mall operator in the United States with more than 100 properties. Together, they are reshaping the American retail landscape.

Last week, they closed a deal to buy the bankrupt Brooks Brothers, the 202-year-old American fashion brand and retailer, for $325 million. Last month, they acquired Lucky Brand denim, and in February, they bought Forever 21.

Together, the acquisitions will bring the global revenue generated by the company’s brands — a sprawling mix that includes Sports Illustrated and rights tied to Marilyn Monroe’s likeness — to $15 billion annually. And Mr. Salter is hunting for more.

“Look, if the world ends, which I don’t think it’s going to, then there’s no doubt about it, I’m not so smart,” Mr. Salter, a 57-year-old Toronto native, said in a phone interview. “But I don’t believe the world’s going to end.”

“Last year, we said within five years, we want to be at $20 billion,” he added, referring to the overall revenue generated from brands owned or jointly owned by Authentic Brands. “Another two to three deals could get us there.”

Many of the acquisitions are being made through a joint venture with Mr. Simon called SPARC, for Simon Properties Authentic Retail Concepts. Its roots go back to 2016, but it was created in its present form in January as a vehicle that turned out to be almost perfectly positioned to take advantage of the current state of the industry.

By teaming up, Mr. Simon, a press-averse Indianapolis real estate scion who declined to comment for this article, gets assurance that bankrupt chains and other tenants will remain in his shopping centers, while Mr. Salter gets a friendly landlord for his brands at a time when rent costs are crushing retailers, plus the chance to earn money by licensing the well-known names. Together, they own and operate 1,500 stores through their deals, which sometimes include Brookfield Properties, another mall giant.

The purchase of Brooks Brothers, where layoff notices have already started going out, has put a spotlight on this arrangement — and invited new scrutiny. Supporters say SPARC is saving the businesses it’s buying. Critics say it’s simply exploiting their traumas for fast profits in ways that cheapen the brands’ legacies. They say the SPARC strategy treats brands and stores less like hothouses of creativity that need careful tending, and more like chess pieces to be moved around for maximum, if momentary, gain.

That suspicion has been hard to shake for Mr. Salter. Authentic Brands’ purchase of the Sports Illustrated brand last year is viewed as a prime example of the company’s bottom-line approach to licensing. It sold the rights to operate the magazine and website to another company, which gutted the staff, while simultaneously putting the Sports Illustrated name on protein powder, CBD cream and swimsuits. And Authentic Brands’ purchase of Barneys New York’s intellectual property last year was fiercely contested by a group of investors who waged a “Save Barneys” social media campaign to avert liquidations and the licensing of the name, painting Mr. Salter as a villain who sought to dismantle a cultural institution.

“It’s not a long-term quality play,” said one retail executive who asked not to be identified because the executive had been approached about the Brooks Brothers deal. “It’s not about a love of the brand or the goods. It’s predatory and opportunistic.”

Understanding Authentic Brands’ business is crucial to understanding the tides of retail today.

The company, founded by Mr. Salter in 2010, bets on famous names in fashion and entertainment, often buying their intellectual property with the aim of striking licensing deals with those who want to use the brand names internationally or on new products. Authentic Brands tends to earn an estimated 4 to 6 percent in royalties through this model.

“History,” was one of the answers Mr. Salter gave when asked what he looks for in a brand. “Does it have good archives we can bring back, because the world repeats itself all the time. The longer the history, the better.” The potential to cut costs was another.

For years, Mr. Salter led a division of Hilco, a financial firm, as it snapped up the intellectual property of bankrupt retailers like Sharper Image. While the retailer’s stores closed, Hilco was involved with deals that put Sharper Image’s name on products like garment steamers that were cheaper than wares at the original retailer and then sold in chains like Bed Bath & Beyond.

At Authentic Brands, Mr. Salter pulled off an early coup by acquiring the exclusive rights tied to Marilyn Monroe, whose likeness drew the interest of everyone from Dolce & Gabbana to Walmart. His stable of 50 brands now includes Juicy Couture, Elvis Presley, Muhammad Ali and Frederick’s of Hollywood.

The Juicy acquisition in 2013, where Mr. Salter bought the brand but couldn’t secure its locations, made him realize the value of physical stores. Losing the stores, he said, hurt Juicy. “I can tell you unequivocally it’s easier to build brands with a retail footprint — touch, feel, try on,” he said.

Though Authentic Brands does not own the types of luxury retailers and labels as European conglomerates like Kering and LVMH, Mr. Salter said that LVMH served as “inspiration” and that they shared “similar ambitions.” He thinks of his company, where his four sons are also among the 200 employees (his eldest, Corey, is chief operating officer) as a family enterprise despite a roster of investors including BlackRock, Leonard Green & Partners and General Atlantic. The biggest individual investor after Mr. Salter, whose family owns about 20 percent, is Shaquille O’Neal, whose brand is managed by the Authentic Brands. Mr. Salter said that he has considered an initial public offering of stock but that the company has plenty of money and he doesn’t want to exit.

“Other people do want in,” he said. But, he added, “It’s a lot easier when you have two guys, and if there’s a problem, you pick up the phone and work it out in 10 minutes.”

Simon Property also holds about 7 percent after an investment in January, when it also increased its interest in SPARC to 50 percent, according to filings.

Four years ago, Mr. Salter said, “David came to me and said, ‘Why do you always close the stores when you buy the company?’” Mr. Salter replied that he was too nervous to operate the stores, worrying that the leases could become too expensive. Mr. Simon proposed teaming up with Brookfield to buy Aéropostale, which led to the formation of a venture called Aero OpCo. Mr. Salter owned 20 percent, and Brookfield and Simon the rest. (Brookfield, which is not part of SPARC, declined to comment.)

The mall operators wanted their tenants to stay and ideally resume making money. They were also interested in Mr. Salter’s marketing prowess and his brands, which they figured could eventually turn into stores at their malls.

“At the beginning, Simon just wanted ‘get my rent,’” Mr. Salter said. “But we started turning profits very quickly, and it started to be about building a business.”

Each side benefits. Mr. Salter’s brands have “variable rent” contracts with Mr. Simon’s malls, meaning their rent goes up and down with their sales and, in a lucrative arrangement, most don’t have minimums. Mr. Simon also receives a percentage of royalties from sales associated with the brand names. In January, Mr. Salter bought out Brookfield’s interest and the venture was renamed SPARC.

“Covid is a good lesson for all of us because thank God we had percentage rent,” Mr. Salter said. “We furloughed whatever number we had to furlough in Forever 21, and you’re only paying rent on a percentage of sales. It hurts a lot less.”

Still, some analysts say it isn’t good to see mall operators buying their own tenants out of bankruptcy at this pace.

There may be few options. As long as large retailers or hedge funds are unwilling to buy bankrupt chains like J.C. Penney, which could ultimately liquidate, “mall owners are the only viable acquirers,” analysts at Coresight Research, an advisory and research firm, wrote in a recent note. The firm estimated that 20,000 to 25,000 U.S. retail stores would close this year, and at least 50 percent are mall-based.

“Acquiring retailers raises questions about mall owners’ long-term viability,” they wrote. “Mall owners cannot buy every anchor retailer in their malls, and often they will have to let stores fail instead of propping them up,” the analysts wrote.

Mr. Simon bristled on a recent earnings call at the notion that he was buying retailers for rent. “We believe in the brand and we think we can make money,” he said. He compared critics of the venture to those who told Amazon to remain in the book business.

Still, rent is no small concern. In filings, Forever 21, a top tenant at Brookfield and Simon malls in the year before its bankruptcy, said the aggregate occupancy cost for its stores was $450 million annually. Lucky listed $66 million in rent and occupancy costs last year. Brooks Brothers said its 187 store leases and other corporate property leases cost about $86 million a year. On top of that, there are co-tenancy agreements, which can allow other tenants to break leases or demand rent reductions based on vacancy rates or the exit of certain retailers.

“I do believe that the strategy by Simon and Brookfield is to protect their co-tenancy in a lot of cases, but I think it’s a Band-Aid,” said Jackie Levy, chief business officer of Caruso, the real estate firm that owns California open-air shopping centers like the Grove. “It might solve the immediate issue of keeping some of their smaller retailers or shops in the malls, but long-term, those leases are going to expire at some point and there’s going to be a flight to quality.”

For his part, Mr. Salter sees opportunities to meld the brands that go beyond reducing corporate staff and sharing e-commerce capabilities. He can imagine, for example, Brooks Brothers teaming up with Spyder to make performance outerwear, and with Volcom for swim trunks. Saks Fifth Avenue still plans to introduce Barneys New York shops within its New York flagship and Connecticut stores.

“If I could buy anything, I’d buy Reebok,” he said. “Hanna Barbera. I like the Flintstones, Yogi Bear. Got big ideas for Yogi Bear. I love the Jetsons. They should be the delivery system for Amazon. Just call the Jetsons, they’ll deliver it to you in two seconds!”

Though Mr. Salter said he wasn’t joining a bid by Simon and Brookfield for J.C. Penney, he can envision pursuing a similar chain in the future.

“There’s no doubt about it that Jamie Salter’s dream is to have an A.B.G. department store,” Mr. Salter said. “And as David Simon says, maybe one day you’ll have your own mall.”

#simon #david e #david simon #jamie salter #department stores #brooks brothers #lucky brand #streetwear blog #fashion blog #music blog #saks fifth avenue

2 notes · View notes

northwest-writing · 4 years

Text

This Week’s Numbers: A Short Play

Four coworkers sit in the breakroom at their minimum wage retail job. TIM, twenty-two, is sitting up in his seat at the breakroom table, shaking his left leg and holding a cup of coffee with both hands. EMILY, nineteen, is leaning slightly back in her chair, looking at her phone. MATT, thirty, leans over the table, writing something down on a piece of paper. KEVIN, thirty-eight, is leaning way back in a chair with his feet up on the table and his hat over his eyes. TIM stares up at the clock.

TIM

D’you guys know if anyone’s ever thought of fixing that clock on the wall?

EMILY

Still looking at her phone

What clock?

MATT

I didn’t even realize it was broken.

TIM

Yeah it’s like always four fifteen? (Beat) Could you imagine if it was always four fifteen?

KEVIN

I tried asking the old store manager about it once. He just said “why do you care about the clock in the break room?” and he had a point so I stopped worrying about it.

There is a silence as TIM stares at KEVIN

TIM

I sort of feel like that story’s not true and you just want me to stop talking before the team meeting.

KEVIN

It’s seven AM, Tim.

EMILY

Yeah, Tim, it’s like seven AM.

TIM

I know what time it is I just--

Enter KATE, twenty five years old, in a good mood one would find inappropriate for a retail employee

KATE

Okay, it’s Monday! You guys ready?

TIM

For the meeting?

KATE

She gets very close to TIM’s face, forcing him to lean back

Tim, look me in my eyes. I’m the store manager. I hate this store just as much as you do, I just get paid ten extra cents an hour to do it. (Straightens back up) NO! I want to know (digging into her jacket pocket) if you guys are ready...for this she holds up a lottery ticket.

Everyone perks up except for MATT, who is still focused on what he is writing down. Even KEVIN moves his hat back to reveal his eyes.

EMILY

Oh shit that’s right it’s Monday!

KATE

That’s right,

as she speaks, she removes her jacket, tosses it onto the table, and begins arranging a chair backwards at the head of the room

which can only mean two things: I am required to hold a team member meeting or I will lose my job, and I bought a new lottery ticket.

KEVIN

Three things.

KATE

And a pack of cigarettes for Kevin

she pulls a pack of cigarettes from her pocket and tosses them to KEVIN who catches them effortlessly.

Matthew, whatcha workin’ on?

MATT

I’m writing to my penpal who’s stationed overseas.

KATE

Well put him on hold. This is important.

EMILY laughs quietly

MATT

Hey, would it be cool if I went first this week? I had a really good one last week and--

EMILY

Maybe you should’ve shown up…

KATE

To EMILY Dude--

EMILY

It took us like an hour to close on Tuesday night.

MATT

It was in the schedule--

TIM

He has gotten up and fixed himself a second cup of coffee since he last spoke

(timidly to EMILY) Well maybe if you had actually--

KATE

The airing! Of grievances will take place after the ceremony...or preferably after you’ve stopped giving a shit about them all together. Beat Aaaaaanyway

she climbs up onto the chair she previously set up

I would like everyone’s attention. *ahem* Oh yeah, everyone clocked in right?

TIM EMILY

Oh shit Oh yeah

Begins to leave the room she reaches into her pocket and pulls out her ID card

Hang on one sec Wait, Tim--

TIM looks back, takes EMILY’s ID card, and exits.

All sit silently as they wait for TIM to come back from swiping their cards.

TIM enters and sits down as he hands EMILY her ID card.

KATE

*ahem* Thank you all for joining me today. According to physics, (a collective sigh) there are two major forms of energy: kinetic energy and potential energy. I hold here in my hand one of the greatest sources of potential energy that money can buy from a Seven Eleven. Now, the rules are very simple: everyone will have their chance to tell us what they would do if this were somehow, miraculously, a winning ticket. We will then vote on who has the best version of what one might call The American Dream and then the winner gets riches beyond their wildest dreams and also they get to pick the numbers for next weeks ticket. We will begin this week by hearing from our dear Matthew. Matthew, you have the floor.

She steps down from her makeshift podium and applauds softly, prompting the rest of the room to follow suit as MATT steps up.

MATT

Alright, so pretty much there’s these like buildings in Germany that were built during World War Two that were designed to be these totally indestructible bunkers that couldn’t be blown up, and so now they’re just still there, because you can’t tear them down no matter what you do. Then the other day I went to clean the men’s room (a noticeable shudder from everyone in the room) and some guy had literally shit like all over the wall. Like he had just fuckin’ exploded. So while I’m in there cleaning it up and just wishing I was dead, I thought that’s what I’d do. I’d fill this room floor to ceiling with that indestructible German concrete and turn the whole thing into a big fossil. So that hundreds of years from now when we’re all dead and gone and this whole store has rotted away to nothing, that guy’s fuckin shit stain would be frozen in carbonite forever, like the Han Fuckin’ Solo of shit.

This speech is met with rousing applause as MATT takes a few small bows and steps down.

KATE

I love it! Very colorful, Matt.

EMILY steps up next.

EMILY

(To MATT) That’s kickass by the way. Alright um, ok so Friday, or I think it was Saturday. Yeah so Sat-- no I didn’t work Saturday. It was Friday anyway FRIDAY I was driving into work and I was stopped at that light that’s like right by Taco Bell, and when I went to go, my car started making that noise again. I’ve shown you guys all the noise right?

TIM

I thought you said it stopped making the noise?

EMILY

Yeah because I kicked my hood really hard that one time and it stopped for like two weeks but it’s back now!

KATE

Wait what’s the noise? I haven’t heard it.

EMILY

It’s like a...(she thinks for a second then begins making the most ridiculous sound. Get creative.) or kind of like a (she makes a variation on the first sound. Kevin is laughing hysterically.) It happens every time I like rev the engine or drive with the windows down or like go about forty miles an hour. I think it’s just like a thing. But anyway I was like oh if I won I would totally pay to fix my car right? But then I was like well why would I pay to fix a 2003 Honda Accord that used to be owned by like a heroin dealer and sounds like it was dragged out of a river when I could just buy a whole ‘nother car? Duh. But anyway now I have this like shitty car I don’t know what to do with. What am I gonna do with it? So then I thought I’d hire a bunch of guys to like take the whole thing apart piece by piece...and then put it back together in Todd’s office.

MATT

What if it was in his living room?

EMILY

Oh my god yeah! Yeah and the best part is, it still makes the sound.

The room breaks into applause. As she steps down

Thank you. Thank you.

KATE

Taking it straight to the district manager. Very cool. Very senior prank. I like it. A tough act to follow. Tim, uh, last week…

TIM

(Getting up from his chair) No no, this one’s not as long.

KATE

(As TIM steps onto the chair) Ok cool.

TIM

(Looking at a note in his phone) Ok. I’m not exactly sure if this is like illegal or not but... (shrugs)

uh so I would fake my own death.

EMILY

Oh shit.

TIM

I didn’t really think through like where I would disappear to but I would disappear like super mysteriously. Don’t worry I wouldn’t make any of you guys look guilty and I’d make sure to disappear on like a night when everyone’s busy so you’d all have an alibi. THEN like a year later, after most of the “oh where’s Tim?” has sorta worn off, I’d start sending postcards to the store.

MATT

Oooooh shiiiit.

TIM

They’d all be from different places. Yellowstone, Dubai, the Eiffel Tower, fuckin’...Des Moines. And they’d each have like one letter on them. And over the course of like five years this collection of postcards would build up and detectives would be like trying to unscramble the letters to figure out where I went. But here’s the best part: they wouldn’t spell out anything. They’re just letters. It’s a goose chase.

KATE

OH SHIT!

TIM

Yeaaaah oh shit.

Everyone passionately applauds as TIM steps off the chair and sits back down

Catch me in Barbados or something sipping on a coconut, just writing ‘E’ on the back of a picture of a palm tree.

KATE

Alright. Kevin?

KEVIN

(From his chair) Just like every week. I’d keep all the money and stay working here so all of you’d have to think about the fact that I’m the one sittin’ on it.

TIM

Bummer, Kev.

KATE

I’m confident one week that’ll be the winner. Don’t ever change, Kevin. Beat. She starts to rise Well. If that’s everyone--

MATT

What if we actually won?

KATE

Well we just talked about that. (She points at MATT) Han Solo of shit (points at EMILY) Casa Del Car (points at TIM) Unsolved Mysteries--

MATT

Yeah but I mean what if we really won.

EMILY

Well then whoever we voted--

MATT

Well but that’s stupid.

KATE

Matt--

MATT

I just keep thinking lately like, it’s stupid that whoever has the time to come up with the cleverest way to quit their job gets to have the money if we won.

KATE

Matt, that’s not the point of--

MATT

I think we should give it to whoever deserves it the most...and I think I should get it.

TIM

It’s not--

MATT

No, I’m the best employee here. Like I really come in and do good at my job every day, and I don’t think I’ve ever been recognized for it!

KATE

Matt, it’s not a bonus. It’s just a game.

EMILY

Yeah, besides, you wouldn’t deserve it the most anyway.

TIM

Jeez!

EMILY

What? Matt’s thirty years old and he’s never acted like he’s wanted to do anything besides work here. I actually have a future. If I had the money, I could actually go to nursing school.

KATE

(Making a feeble attempt to reign things in) Ok, this is--

TIM

You wanna go to nursing school?

EMILY

I’ve told you that like twenty times!

TIM inhales to respond

KATE

Tim, please.

TIM decides not to speak

EMILY

Oh come on! Why don’t you ever stick up for yourself!

TIM

Ok fine! I will stick up for myself! I think you’re a bitch! (EMILY gasps) I think you’re bad at your job and you’re a bad friend. (She gasps again) And I think you’d be a bad nurse.

KEVIN

I think I should get the money.

KATE

Oh my god (She crosses her arms and puts one hand over her face)

KEVIN

I smoke like four packs a day. What if I got lung cancer?

EMILY

I bet that’s the first time you’ve ever asked yourself that question.

KEVIN

Hey!

The room erupts into overlapping arguments. Actors should ad lib their own grievances. KATE is irritated but knows yelling will only add to the ruckus. She thinks for a moment, then walks over to the light switch and starts rapidly flipping the lights off and on. The employees become confused and slowly cease their arguing. They all look at KATE.

KATE

God, I knew that would work. You’re all like a bunch of birds! Listen, there’s a woman that comes into this store every day. Her name is Donna. You’ve all rung her up. Her brother had a stroke and he’s in the hospital and they’re not sure if he’s gonna be alright and she doesn’t know how she’s gonna pay the medical bills. And you know what? If this ticket won the lottery, we still wouldn’t give the money to her. Because she doesn’t deserve it.

EMILY

What the fuck, Kate?

MATT

So you think you deserve it?

KATE

NO! Of course I don’t deserve it. And neither do you!

MATT

So who does?

KATE

Nobody! It’s the lottery! Nobody deserves to win the lottery. It shouldn’t exist at all, just like none of us should have to be here every day. The whole system is rigged against us. This is just a dumb game I made up so that we could all survive. Once a week. Once a week we all remind ourselves that if we really wanted to change our lives we could. And then for the rest of the week we can all earn a paycheck not doing it.

There is a long pause as everyone considers KATE’s statement.

EMILY

(Hesitantly) So it’s...like an office holiday party?

KATE

Yeah it's. Yeah.

Beat

TIM

You guys know the guy who comes in every Tuesday and buys a lampshade? And then the next week he brings it back in so he can exchange it for a different lampshade? And he just does that like over and over again every week? Roger? Beat. (He starts to smile. Starting to laugh on the next line) I think he deserves it.

Everyone begins to laugh slightly

KATE

(Laughing still) Why him?

TIM

(Laughing more) I don’t know he just needs something. That guy’s not ok.

The laughter builds with each line

EMILY

(Laughing) What about that guy that always comes in asking if we have any copies of that one Adam Sandler movie?

MATT

(Laughing) Oh Click!

TIM

(Near tears at this point) He gets so mad when we say no!

EMILY

(Struggling to breathe) I think we should give it to him.

KATE

You mean the guy or Adam Sandler?

Everyone is beside themselves with laughter by this point, completely unable to continue for several moments. Banging fists on the table, clapping, etc. KEVIN laughs like an old prospector. Finally everyone settles down enough to continue the meeting.

KATE

Ok…we still need to...we still need to vote.

EMILY

Tim.

MATT

Tim.

KEVIN

Tim.

TIM

(Giggling slightly) Roger.

Everyone lets out one last small laugh.

KATE

Alright. Looks like Tim has it.

She applauds gently and everyone else follows suit.

Emily can you look up the numbers for last week.

EMILY

She has already taken out her phone to look up the numbers

I’m on it.

KATE

Everyone!

She gestures like she is conducting an orchestra to begin, then digs into her pocket and pulls out a different lottery ticket.

Everyone drums on the table, stopping when EMILY begins reading off the numbers. KATE looks at the ticket from last week.

EMILY

Fourteen! Forty-Seven! Fifty-Four!

Everyone looks at KATE who is maintaining a flawless poker face

Fifty-Five! Sixty-Eight! Twenty-Five!

They continue to look expectantly at KATE. Beat. KATE’s face turns to amazement.

KATE

Wow...(Beat) Not a single one.

Blackout

END OF PLAY.

2 notes · View notes