Realistic or Modern #𝗠𝗮𝗿𝗿𝘆𝗠𝗲 // Dystopian AI Matchmaking IC

[SteepVision]

Spoiler

Before his eyes, the patient began to seize. Their body listed sideways form the chair, rigid with violent contractions of tonic-clonic spasm. Hank caught their shoulders. The tall figure light in his grip. Surprisingly so. Tremors knocking a glass from the table that shattered brightly on the floor. He pulled them away from the shards and lay them down. “You’re alright. The ambulance is on it’s way.” Spoken low, and calm. Dark suit jacket swiftly pulled from his shoulders to tuck beneath the man’s head. “This'll pass, it’ll be over soon.” Glanced shortly at the face of his watch to time the episode with half an ear on the young woman’s answer.

Hank's hands felt unsteady, ignoring a tremor as he worked to loosen the collar at the patient's neck and keep their airways clear. His pulse felt too fast. Sickeningly “helpless” to do a thing without the setup of surgery. Helpless but to take their hand while they shook. “You’re gonna be just fine.” What the hell was going on? No medic-alert tag on their person to indicate epilepsy or other chronic condition. The thick, white foam at their mouth a symptom of hypoarousal, intolerance or… substance ingestion? Focused gaze drawn to the crumb of cake and icing that clung to the patients face. To shattered glass, a puddle of clear liquid spreading across tile, and to the two women at the table. One, surprised but apparently calm. The other’s eyes wide with shock and concern. ”“What do we do? Tell us how we can help and we’ll do it.”

The double wide doors burst open. Green-clad paramedics rushing a gurney through the reception hall. Hank scanned their faces to find none familiar. He stepped aside. “You did everything you could.” The reassurance automatic and absent. Turning away as they lifted the man from the ground to scan for Carlos.

His husband looked commanding and assured. The signs of intoxication all but gone from his body language. Shoulders tall, focus in his face. Into his element amongst chaos and tension the way Hank stepped into scrubs at surgery. But Hank couldn’t forget the look on his face when they had spoken their vows. The tender sheen to dark eyes, the flashes of vulnerability searching so dependently on him. To be the man he could depend upon.

Carlos might not forgive Hank leaving him at their wedding. But the cop would. Hank broke into a quick stride, following the paramedics through the main exit and the elevator, his hand catching the door before it hissed closed.

“Sir!” A paramedic planted a palm on his chest. Her expression flat. “We’ll handle it from here.”

Hank shook his head. “Doctor Hank Pierce. From LMH.” They’d know the name of the hospital. No doubt in his mind. But the woman's face did not change. “Step aside, Sir.”

“Listen.” His tone dropped. Short, and sharp. They didn’t have time for politics. “I know-”

The medic pushed him. Hard. Stumbling back with the unexpected force, his shoulders making contact with the wall. Shock reflected in pale eyes as the elevator doors slid shut.

Pierce

Hank

Before his eyes, the patient began to seize. Their body listed sideways form the chair, rigid with violent contractions of tonic-clonic spasm. Hank caught their shoulders. The tall figure light in his grip. Surprisingly so. Tremors knocking a glass from the table that shattered brightly on the floor. He pulled them away from the shards and lay them down. “You’re alright. The ambulance is on it’s way.” Spoken low, and calm. Dark suit jacket swiftly pulled from his shoulders to tuck beneath the man’s head. “This'll pass, it’ll be over soon.” Glanced shortly at the face of his watch to time the episode with half an ear on the young woman’s answer.

Hank's hands felt unsteady, ignoring a tremor as he worked to loosen the collar at the patient's neck and keep their airways clear. His pulse felt too fast. Sickeningly “helpless” to do a thing without the setup of surgery. Helpless but to take their hand while they shook. “You’re gonna be just fine.” What the hell was going on? No medic-alert tag on their person to indicate epilepsy or other chronic condition. The thick, white foam at their mouth a symptom of hypoarousal, intolerance or… substance ingestion? Focused gaze drawn to the crumb of cake and icing that clung to the patients face. To shattered glass, a puddle of clear liquid spreading across tile, and to the two women at the table. One, surprised but apparently calm. The other’s eyes wide with shock and concern. ”“What do we do? Tell us how we can help and we’ll do it.”

The double wide doors burst open. Green-clad paramedics rushing a gurney through the reception hall. Hank scanned their faces to find none familiar. He stepped aside. “You did everything you could.” The reassurance automatic and absent. Turning away as they lifted the man from the ground to scan for Carlos.

His husband looked commanding and assured. The signs of intoxication all but gone from his body language. Shoulders tall, focus in his face. Into his element amongst chaos and tension the way Hank stepped into scrubs at surgery. But Hank couldn’t forget the look on his face when they had spoken their vows. The tender sheen to dark eyes, the flashes of vulnerability searching so dependently on him. To be the man he could depend upon.

Carlos might not forgive Hank leaving him at their wedding. But the cop would. Hank broke into a quick stride, following the paramedics through the main exit and the elevator, his hand catching the door before it hissed closed.

“Sir!” A paramedic planted a palm on his chest. Her expression flat. “We’ll handle it from here.”

Hank shook his head. “Doctor Hank Pierce. From LMH.” They’d know the name of the hospital. No doubt in his mind. But the woman's face did not change. “Step aside, Sir.”

“Listen.” His tone dropped. Short, and sharp. They didn’t have time for politics. “I know-”

The medic pushed him. Hard. Stumbling back with the unexpected force, his shoulders making contact with the wall. Shock reflected in pale eyes as the elevator doors slid shut.

coded by reveriee.

 

[spacepirate]

With his eyes to the ground, it was hard for Vix to tell if either the tardy woman or his husband were making a scene. With the guard seemingly ready to strike or arrest them at a moment’s notice, the green-haired newlywed had already scrunched up his body, preparing for an impact that never came.

Well, that wasn’t entirely true. Connor gave him a light squeeze, and it was almost enough to give him pause. For a spy, it didn’t seem like his government-given husband was very cool under pressure. Or maybe, he mused, this was all part of the plan. That was enough for him to raise his gaze, trying to discern what kind of looks the others were giving each other. It was possible encode messages in one’s blinks, but Vix wasn’t as familiar with Morse code as he used to be.

Just when it seemed that the silver-tongued newcomer and Connor managed to diffuse the situation, a hunk of cake was lobbed at the guard. Life and death as the situation might have been, Vix couldn’t help but smirk a bit. Perhaps he was overwhelmed- this was the most action he’d seen in quite some time, after all. It was such a vibrant, unnatural pink hue spread across the guard’s face, and Vix couldn’t help but hope it might have been something highly corrosive, or worse.

Of course, any laughter was short-lived since they were now surrounded by guards on all sides. Withdrawing back into himself, the volunteer was the first to show his palms and fall to his knees. Now he was sort of wishing Connor was a spy, because then at least he’d have some kind of immunity to law enforcement. But it was getting less and less likely by the minute, especially when the guard pointed his gun at the no-longer military man.

Still, he couldn’t help but wonder IF there was a spy present at their ceremony. Hardly anyone was what they seemed nowadays.

As if the scuffle in the entryway couldn’t get any more chaotic, sirens blared from outside. Had they reached the LEOs already? Maybe they had them on hand and- wait, was that a gurney? Holy shit, maybe the cake actually was poisonous! They had to move out of its way, and Vix took the opportunity to scoot at least a little closer to Connor. It wasn’t the kind of intimate whisper that two lovebirds would share, but Vix felt like he owed the other man something for trying to step in between him and harm’s way. If anything, the ambulance sirens seemed to snap Vix out of his own head enough to snark a bit. Not like there was much else to do other than contemplate his fate. What was the point in pretending if they were going to haul his ass to jail anyway?

“And here I thought we wouldn’t get each other on our knees like this ‘till the honeymoon.”

 

[Kendrix-lamar]

The light conversation that Tara and Anya were having was now long forgotten as Tara watched the stranger start to have a seizure. The scene in front of her eyes terrifying even if the older man was handling with ease. Made sense since he was a doctor. He was used to this stuff but even his assurance that her and Anya did what they could didn't help.

Everything moved so quickly, the cop calling for help which quickly arrived. They took the man off on a stretcher and Tara sat there frozen. Helpless. She hated that feeling. That feeling is why she joined under ground rebel efforts. Cause she felt helpess against the government efforts and how it affected those close to her. Soon enough the doctor was rushing off, his seeming to be husband right behind him. Glancing around the room she saw the blond girl had also thrown up with her match looking pissed off. Was there some kind of poison? No, why would the government do that? What would be the purpose? Tara's mind was now racing with a pale face "I hope he'll be okay...." she whispered with a shakey voice.

 

[IceCave]

Chad Burton

Chad tested the steel clasped over his wrists, hands resting at the back above his ass. Sitting almost too casually on the curb next to other cuffed marriers, all still dressed up in their wedding outfits.

He glanced over his shoulder. Their friendly cop was chatting with the guards, one of them still getting rid of pink cream from his face. Couldn't wipe the angry red flushing his cheeks though. Haha, good one.

The joker's gaze drifted from the guards to his companions and he snorted a laugh. "What. Cheer up." Happily baring his teeth he focused on Sona.

"Sorry about the bust, Sweetie. But we can do a prison break together." The guy winked, acting as if Haru, the supposed spouse of Sona, wasn't sitting right next to him.

But his smile faded when he saw who was just brought out of the building on a gurney.

Burton sprung up. "Hey," Snapping gaze between paramedics. "What the fuck happe-" He didn't finish becasue he had to duck. The guard who was just about to hit him across the head with a nightstick stood frozen. Dumbfounded by how come Chad knew he was about to swing it at him from behind.

But the younger male didn't even pay attention, he walked toward the ambulance. "Hey! Gonna talk to me? Cat ate your fucking tongue?!" The men carrying unconscious Vivian looked much less empathetic than average EMTs. They didn't react, hurrying inside.

Carlos put his hand to the guard's shoulder and spoke with persuasion.

"I got this." He jogged after Chad and stopped next to him. Both watched the ambulance depart with a blaring siren and the silent red blue lights of a large police vehicle arrive. Carlos exhaled with a heavy sigh and prompted Chad to walk back and stand next to others.

"Get up, guys. You're free to go." He said while guards reluctantly unlocked the metal around marriers' wrists.

"Except for you, man." Carlos said gazing into Chad's narrowed eyes. "You're going to be arrested for an assault on a public serviceman." He informed while his buddies parked the car and headed their way, soon taking Chad in. The guy seemed oddly compliant. He didn't even turn his face away from the flashes of cameras from the passer-by's, some of which seemed to recognize the online star.

 

[spilledcoffee]

Haru’s mouth popped open at Sona’s revelation - “You're my wife! Where the hell have you been?!” - and dropped to practically graze her chest at Chad’s follow-up - “Sorry about the bust, Sweetie. But we can do a prison break together”. Head fuzzy from the alcohol, Haru wasn’t able to work her mouth around a reply before a pair of metal handcuffs were slammed across her wrists and she was dragged outside.

Shoved on to the curb next to her apparent wife-to-be, Haru observed with vague disinterest as a figure lying prone on a gurney was wheeled out of the facility, followed by a burst of outrage from the meathead. Her gaze fell from the scene unfolding before them to focus on Sona, eyebrows drawn into a scowl and eyes narrowed.

“So you were ditching the wedding - ditching me - for Mr Loverboy over there?” The following laugh was sharp, derisive, and hopefully hid the underlying hurt that was clawing at Haru’s throat. It was ridiculous to feel upset, especially when Haru herself hadn’t been planning to turn up in the first place - but fuck, she hadn’t tried to run away with somebody else’s husband, had she? She nodded her head towards the ambulance.

“I’m assuming that’s his spouse? Seems like you both gave him a fucking fright. Imagine starting a marriage with immediate infidelity.” Because that’s was what would have happened, right? They would have escaped the wedding, run off somewhere and gotten their freak on. Urgh. Haru should’ve stayed at home.

Haru rubbed at her wrists as the handcuffs were undone, pushing herself up into a standing position and taking a few steps back from the other couples.

“So. What the fuck do we do now?” She didn’t spare a glance for Chad as he was carted away, the man already marked as an enemy.

 

[carrlavoie]

Vida groaned against the nausea making her insides twist, dropping into a crouch with her elbows placed loosely on her knees. She stared at the floor then squeezed her eyes shut against the whirling in her head. Stephen's words had been like background noise to the rising wave of puke inside her, and even now she wasn't really sure what he had said. His tone had been angry though, like hers. It was evening angrier now as he let out an outraged, "What the fuck?!" to her spewing all over his shins and shoes. She was horrified, yes, but she was too focused on not doing it again to apologize or react in any way but to crouch there, head hanging, and breathe deeply. Vida hated drinking and she could barely handle her alcohol. She knew that. Why the fuck did she have to drink so much? Damn this awful situation and damn these nerves.

There was a lot of commotion happening in the room. With her eyes still closed, her breathing deep, Vida could barely process what was happening, but she listened. Raised voices - not angry, like Stephen and hers had been, but alarmed. Frightened? Hurried speaking. She whipped her head up as the doors burst open and a medic team arrived with a gurney. For me? She wondered briefly in confusion, but that didn't make sense. Her fuzzy brain inched at a snail's pace while she tried to piece together the puzzle before her. Carlos was standing, looking pretty sober for a man who had been as intoxicated as he had. His new husband knelt on the floor next to an individual whose body was spasming in a gruesome display. The brides were at the table next to them, horrified and helpless. This was something much worse than Vida not being able to handle her drink. The medics were efficient in securing the shaking body and Hank was a step behind them as they hurried out of the room, Carlos rushing out soon after, leaving the remaining two couples in a shocked silence except for the now very-out-of-place romantic background music playing softly from hidden speakers all around them.

Vida counted her breaths in the silence, still staring at the now closed double doors. Still trying to figure out what had just happened. She wasn't even sure when the green-haired man and his match had left, or the meathead or the abandoned bride for that matter. She was pretty sure nobody was supposed to leave yet, sans those involved in that medical emergency. This had to be the worst wedding reception in MarryMe history. Vida wondered what new programming the government would come up with to avoid another shitshow like this one.

Still ignoring Stephen, Vida slowly turned her head to stare blankly at the ground again. She took a deep breath, held it for five seconds, then slowly let it out. As she readied herself to stand and fight the dizziness that was sure to follow, her eyes caught on something on the floor near Stephen's newly decorated shoes. Her brow furrowed. A couple of pills? No, one pill. It looked like those little plastic powdered-pill sleeves that you break in half to shake out the contents. It was empty now though. But her brain was already processing too much to try and figure this new bit of information out, and she doubted that it mattered much anyway.

Pushing herself to her feet with another groan, Vida turned to slowly make her way to the doors. "I'm going to clean up," she said over her shoulder to Stephen, voice tired and low.

 

[Kendrix-lamar]

The upset Stephen felt continued to boil as Vida seemed to not even care about what she had done. The over five hundred dollar pair of shoes ruined and she couldn't even say sorry. Her words soft with his glare hard she stumbled off towards the doors.

An absolute shit show. "Yeah me too" he muttered not even noticing was on the floor. The vomit made him sick to look at. So he stormed off towards the bathrooms. He caught sights of not only ambulances but police forces. What the hell happened? He had no clue and at the moment he didn't care so he went right for the bathroom to try to clean himself up before the night ended.

 

[SteepVision]

Connor winced and shifted on the sidewalk, cuffs bit tightly into the skin on his wrists. This weren’t his first rodeo, but he couldn’t say he’d missed the feeling. What a fucking shit-show. Shoulders tensed as a stretcher clattered into the street. Burton’s shout bouncing from concrete- He could see the disaster about to unfold, hands clenched into fists behind his back as the guard lifted the night-stick. A warning ready on his voice.

But Burton ducked. Crisis averted. And the cuffs were released.

He rubbed at the red lines that crossed his tendons. Dark eyes turned to Vix with hinted concern. “Can’t say this were how I pictured my wedding day.” Naw. He’d always imagined something like what his ma and dad described. Little old church, back home. All his friends and family, celbratin’ those old and welcoming those new an’ raising a toast to those who were gone. Best man got his back and white rice in the sun as they left to start their forever. That was what they deserved. Not just him, but Vix. Wrapped up and seen not just by the folks who loved ‘em, but God. He stopped the sigh in his chest and squeezed a smile. “It’s gonna be a’right.” He meant it. Easing into reassurance. He wanted to reach out and touch him, to squeeze his hand or his shoulder. Or fold him into his chest. Show him it were safe there. All things with time. “You need something, you call. It ain’t ever too much.” Smile a little further softened. "Honeymoon's gonna be a blast."

 

[IceCave]

CARLOS WESSON

The ivory glow of the crystal screen illuminated his tired face. Tracing the contours of a soft, happy smile that made it to his hooded eyes. Suspended on the wedding picture that Hank took during the reception. Just like back then the puppy eyes focused on the older man's face. And just like then his wounded heart felt warm. The hole of the recent loss slowly filling with that warmth.

New message from Dr PIERCE

His gaze skipped to the notification bar.

[Dr. PIERCE] Listen, Carlos.

With every new line of text, his smile began to dwindle. His heart rate elevated. He felt it pulsing in his temples, swelling in his throat. The last message should have brought him hope but all he could feel was that fresh pain oozing from the cavity under sternum. His hand felt a little sweaty, trembling when he half blindly found the nightstand in the dark. Dropping the phone there without opening the app.

It remained lit for a few moments. Dim shine glinted in the raised bottle of vodka that Carlos put to his lips and swallowed until he couldn't breathe anymore. Until it was dark and cold and so fucking lonely.

THE COP

 

[IceCave]

 

[SteepVision]

Welcome, love birds, to Love Island. Your paradise in the Caribbean. The local time is two-forty-two PM and we are enjoying a balmy 35 degrees celsius today. On behalf of the crew I’d like to thank you all for flying AffinityAir. A special shout-out to our newlyweds on board. We hope you enjoy your stay, and see you next time!

The commercial craft touched down on the pad of tarmac that split through a sprawl of jungle. Cabin doors cracked to a rush of warm, wet air.

Rucksack slung across one shoulder, Connor descended the aircraft steps. The swamping heat immediately lifting the chill of climate control from his skin. He breathed. Over jet fuel and asphalt was the distinct, damp tang of mangroves and the heavy hint of sea. Scudded clouds hung low on a hazy blue sky, the sun still high. And Affinity’s airport a gleaming white dome in an ocean of green.

It were little more than a repurposed hangar, from the days this island had been used as a military post. But most people wouldn’t see past the shiny layers of paint and advertisements for duty-free perfume and liquor. He could bet this place held its secrets close. Dark eyes narrowed against the sun, his gaze drawn to hazy mountain slopes and the glimpse of artificial snowfields hidden behind a cloud-bank.

A good few hundred people hustled from the aircraft, ferried orderly onto shuttle-busses by women too perfect to be human. Connor scanned over their heads for a glimpse of green. Burton’s tall silhouette stood out in the crowd ahead, slapping the roof of the shuttle as he disappeared through the doors. Obviously got his get-out-of-jail card. And he spotted the tattooed girl, the one with attitude, from the ceremony. But no sight of Vix.

It didn’t take long to work up a sweat. Dampness gathered at his pits and the small of his back. He flashed his passport at immigration with a smile, and climbed onto the next transfer. Watching the island, surprisingly empty, rush by. How many folks lived here full time? He could bet on it being very few. Come wet seasons, this island would be a ghost town. Tourists gone and those left behind batting the hatch against endless rains.

The vehicle turned into a long driveway lined by solar lights, then passed beneath a pillared gate. Marble hung with jasmine creepers heavy in bloom. They slowed, tyres crunched to a halt on black pebbles before a path that cut into the foliage, the glimpse of a building visible just through the trees.

“Connor Grant… Renee Cha. This is your stop.”

A woman stood from her seat. Petite features and wide eyes, the small and elegant type, with glossy hair and alabaster skin. But he didn’t recognise her, not from the ceremony at least. Con boosted to his feet as she wrapped delicate fingers around the handle of her luggage. “Ma’am. May I?” He took her bag, and offered his hand on the steps of the shuttle. Smile small. “You look a picture. If you don’t mind my sayin’... Are you here for the honeymoon? Who's your match?”

Behind them, the shuttle pulled quietly away. The sound of electric motors replaced by birds and the constant, heavy whir of insects in humidity. Ahead, the low-lit path passed through a shaded canopy of magenta bougainvillea and opened onto a sleek white reception. A fountain, cupid poised on top, trickling water into a basin of pink lily and koi. Affinity Estate in rose gold across the curving desk.

He whistled. Open, modern. Luxury. His ma would have a heart attack. She’d always wanted to go on a glamorous vacation, sayin’ in the same breath she was content and grateful for all god gave. “Damn, I never been to a place like this. Not as a guest, anyhow.” Not one that was invited…

 

[spacepirate]

The plane ride was almost six hours, and Vix remained glued to his phone nearly the entire time. Not that he was watching some shitty comedy or was desperate enough to purchase the in-flight WiFi, of course- in fact, he kept staring at the same screen, as if convinced it would change. There, in plain English text, read a word he hadn’t seen on his calendar for over two years-

VACATION.

That wasn’t even a word he used at the food bank, there wasn’t even a manger he could report those hours to. But there it was, right on his official calendar app. If he knew he could request vacation time, maybe he could have agreed to meet Connor’s mother when his husband asked. Either way, he was legally obligated to attend the MarryMe honeymoon, but at least he wouldn’t be violating his… well, that hardly mattered, right? After all, it had been over a week since he’d been detained at his own reception, and Horti-couture hadn’t sent him even an email. Maybe it went under their radar because he wasn’t taken to the precinct, or maybe he was just a paranoid fool wasting away the best years of his life to a company that didn’t even want him dead.

Hell, maybe he should just take it as the blessing it was and enjoy his vacation in the tropics!

No, that couldn’t be it. Vix knew Horti-couture and every other pharma conglomerate cared far too much about their IPs to just let bygones be bygones. He was on borrowed time as it was, and now he had the misfortune of bringing poor Connor into his mess.

Now that he gave it some thought, it was a bit strange that he hadn’t seen his husband at all, even leaving the airport. He hadn’t been paying too much attention to the faces at the reception, but Vix was fairly certain that he’d seen another passenger’s China blue tattoos before. Either way, he avoided eye contact. It might have just been in his head, but the former chemist had the strangest feeling that he was being watched.

Everything seemed to be proceeding smoothly until customs. The green-haired young man only had a single backpack, so he was surprised when the officers pulled him into a separate line followed by a thorough pat-down, examining nothing closely except for his ID. The pit in his stomach only grew bigger when he realized he was being corralled further and further away from the other passengers, escorted through the humid October air to an unmarked black SUV. It was armored, so clearly MarryMe didn’t have a thing for subtlety.

It seemed like an eternity after the airport staff left him outside with the closed vehicle, and Vix wasn’t sure if he should just turn back around. Maybe if he just spoke to an attendant directly, they’d help him get to where he needed to be. Against all his better instincts, Vix slowly reached out to open the door of the car-

“Rah!” The door flung open with a loud shout from within, and the already on-edge honeymooner stumbled backwards with a cry. Landing square on his ass, Vix groaned and rubbed at his head, expression shifting to irritation, before his vision settled on the two passengers already seated within.

“What was-“ Vix’s eyes locked onto the two familiar faces. Shit. Shit, shit, shit, shit! “That… for?”

Rodney gave him a toothy grin, clearly happy to get a rise out of him for old time’s sake. He always reminded Vix of a wolf. Anisa had the same placid smile she always wore, as well as some designer shades worth more than the food bank’s annual funding. To their credit, they both looked ready for a tropical honeymoon. Vix felt himself starting to retch, and Anisa sprayed him with a can of something before he could get any of it out. Yum, tasted just like menthol. He wasn’t nauseous anymore, but the sight of his former colleagues still made him sick to his stomach.

“It’s been awhile, Gusman.” She greeted plainly. “Now, on your feet. The ride to our honeymoon resort isn’t very long, and we have a lot to go over.“

Vix opened his mouth to protest, but Rodney beat him to it. “You don’t want to keep Connor waiting, do you?” Gritting his teeth, Vix merely brushed the dust off his shorts before stepping in.

 

[Kendrix-lamar]

A week after the awful wedding the group now was off to their honeymoon. The long flight to a place called 'love island' wouldn't have been so bad if the marry me officals let Stephen take a private charter flight but no. They wanted him with the general public on a crowded plane. Not even accepting his offer to buy out first class. He didnt even get to sit next to vida. Instead he was forced close to the weird guy with green hair. Talk about long and awkward. At least he was able to keep himself busy on his phone.

When the plane landed he grabbed his carry on shuffling off the plane. He couldnt wait for the drinks that were supposed to happen after they settled into the hotel. Vida couldn't complain if it was mandatory right? Cause he definitely could use one. Once off the plane Stephen was forced to wait on his luggage. Two fairly large suitcases, Once he got them he took them to a limo that was waiting. He did convince them to let him get one for the ride from the airport for him and Vida. He figured it be a nice guesture. He let the driver load his luggage before getting in.

Once Vida was guided in, with no real ability to deny the offer he gave a smile "I hope you dont mind the guesture. Just wanted to be able to do a few nice things for you while we are here" he told her, which implied he had more suprises were up his sleeve. "Seems like we gotta get to our room, change, and meet up for drinks with the others." He spoke as the limo took off once she was in.

The ride wasn't too long not leaving much space for conversation. They were brought to a beautiful estate that Marry Me owned. It be impressive for the average person with all the beautiful marble and greenery. Stephen found it a bit dated but he coule manage. "Here we are. Let's go check out our room." He smiled as the door was open by the driver, staff meeting them to take their luggage for them. One of them approached handing them a glass of champagne before offering a room key.
"Stephen and Vida?" The woman confirmed even if she already knew thanks to the marry me officials. "I'll be showing your room. Follow me." She guided them. Stephen took the champagne not drinking it right away wanting to see what Vida would do first. It was rude not to drink it right? He was trying to tread a bit more carefully this time around even with the mixed feelings he had about the other.

 

[Kendrix-lamar]

After all the drama Tara experienced at the wedding she hadn't even been phased by the pill she had noticed before leaving. It had been near the girl who had thrown up. Had she just partied too hard? Who knew. She knew though she had to report in how she was doing to her cell leader. He wasn't even the head of the rebel group she joined. No one knew who the leader was.

The day right after the wedding her and Anya were forced to do a zoom ceremony. Nothing special, Tara didn't even write personal vows. She did promise when they went on the honey moon they'd share their first kiss. However her 'wedding' was short and sweet. Nothing like she had ever imagined thanks to the marry me program.

A few days after the disaster of a wedding happen she messaged out to her point of contact [0R4CL3 reporting in] she sent using her code name. A few hours later her phone pinged with a message from an unknown number.
[6URU here report under the west end docks in 15]

Fifteen minutes? She hopped out of her seat rushing out the door and to her bike. The docks were a thirty minute drive. She'd have to go fast and take short cuts and not get pulled over. Tara was lucky that day even if she was five minutes late. She kept her helmet on sneaking under the dock before seeing a figure with a mask on. "Oracle here reporting. Freedom to choose, freedom to live, freedom to fight" she greeted using their codes. She hated to process but understood the need for secrecy.

"You're late" the gruff voice said. "Well if yo-" she was cut off "just tell me your progress Oracle." The man said. Tara sighed lightly before going over everything. Including that there had been an arrest and now a death. She had found out after hacking into more records. She had to know what happened to the man who had a seizure. Part of herself felt responsible but she kept those feelings aside. "I'm still getting a target to trust me but she's taking to me well and opening up quick. I'm hoping after the honeymoon I get an invite to her father's place so I can scope it out." She finished off.
"Then don't report back till then....and don't get attached to this girl. She's simply a pawn in our bigger game. Feelings don't need to make this anymore complicated." He told her.
"Pawn?" She frowned under her helmet. "I won't get attached she's not really my type....but we're here to disrupt how government treats us like their pawns so I don't like you called her that" she said voicing her opinion.
"If she and her family along with the government does it to us isn't it right to give her a taste of her own medicine?"
"I um...I..." she was cut off again.
"I'm right. Now be careful of that cop. Otherwise keep up the work." The man said before walking off.

Just like that it was done. Tara sighed getting on her bike and heading home. The rest of the week seemed to be an eternity till it was time to fly to 'love island' so tacky. The flight wouldn't have been so bad if she didn't have to sit near mister slimy tattoo muscle head. She simply kept her headphones in passively glaring anytime she caught him peering at her chest.

When it was time to get off she rushed off quick as she could waiting to see Anya step out. She had kept it casual for the flight, leggings and a purple v-neck. Finally the other girl came off she quickly went over "save me. I had to be near the meat head the entire time. I can't wait to get to the hotel or whatever and get a drink" she said seeing their luggage being brought to a shuttle bus. "Guess that's our ride huh? Let's get on and see what adventure awaits us" she quickly guided her now wife to the bus just wanting to keep away from the creep.

 

[SteepVision]

Spoiler

Sweat stained his collar and stuck his shirt to his back. Nervous. The sort that reeked like anxiety and fear. His gut churned and clenched. Nauseous. The smell of coffee sticking to the back of his throat. Feeling the hard thud of his pulse in his wrists. In his neck. In his temples. Hank flinched at the sound of the engines. His eyes crashed shut, a rush of vertigo swimming over his head as the aircraft began to move on tarmac. The gut wrenching feel of vertical thrusters lifting them from the earth. A sick bag, unused, crumpled in white knuckles.

Fuck. It didn’t matter how many times he told himself to calm down. How many deep breaths he took. How many times he counted backwards from one-hundred. He could not slow his nervous-system. Flooded with fight or flight hormones, and nowhere for them to go. Just the claustrophobic cabin, and the knowledge that the ground rapidly vanished beneath them.

His hand fumbled on the pill bottle. Small white cylinder swallowed dry. Before he turned the bottle to look at the label on the buck. Fuck! Scanning the maximum dosage. For adults: one per eight hours. Had he already taken one? He couldn’t fucking remember. His hand unsteady as he groped for his phone.


[Dr. PIERCE] Where are you seated?


He caught the look of concern from the woman beside him. A stranger. Unable to muster a reassuring smile for her. Another cold wave of dizziness turned his skin white. Trying to focus on the screen.


[Dr. PIERCE] I’m not good on planes.

Understatement of the fucking century. He’d feel better if Carlos was there. A heaviness sinking into his body that didn’t yet slow his heart. Don’t throw up. Knowing he had about two minutes till he was out cold. The LEO would have kept an eye on him, he was sure of that that already. The phone slipping in his fingers, he tucked it clumsily away. The weight on his eyes pulling them shut.

Wishing Carlos was there-

Pierce

Hank

Sweat stained his collar and stuck his shirt to his back. Nervous. The sort that reeked like anxiety and fear. His gut churned and clenched. Nauseous. The smell of coffee sticking to the back of his throat. Feeling the hard thud of his pulse in his wrists. In his neck. In his temples. Hank flinched at the sound of the engines. His eyes crashed shut, a rush of vertigo swimming over his head as the aircraft began to move on tarmac. The gut wrenching feel of vertical thrusters lifting them from the earth. A sick bag, unused, crumpled in white knuckles.

Fuck. It didn’t matter how many times he told himself to calm down. How many deep breaths he took. How many times he counted backwards from one-hundred. He could not slow his nervous-system. Flooded with fight or flight hormones, and nowhere for them to go. Just the claustrophobic cabin, and the knowledge that the ground rapidly vanished beneath them.

His hand fumbled on the pill bottle. Small white cylinder swallowed dry. Before he turned the bottle to look at the label on the buck. Fuck! Scanning the maximum dosage. For adults: one per eight hours. Had he already taken one? He couldn’t fucking remember. His hand unsteady as he groped for his phone.


[Dr. PIERCE] Where are you seated?


He caught the look of concern from the woman beside him. A stranger. Unable to muster a reassuring smile for her. Another cold wave of dizziness turned his skin white. Trying to focus on the screen.


[Dr. PIERCE] I’m not good on planes.

Understatement of the fucking century. He’d feel better if Carlos was there. A heaviness sinking into his body that didn’t yet slow his heart. Don’t throw up. Knowing he had about two minutes till he was out cold. The LEO would have kept an eye on him, he was sure of that that already. The phone slipping in his fingers, he tucked it clumsily away. The weight on his eyes pulling them shut.

Wishing Carlos was there-

coded by reveriee.

 

[IceCave]

CARLOS WESSON

The artificial whine of the sporty hoverbike shot through the street, ricocheting from the airport entrance. Other than his helmet, Carlos was only wearing emerald green shorts with white stripes on the sides, a white t-shirt and sneakers. There was no bag no nothing when he ditched his hoverbike on the pavement in front of the massive building and darted through the revolving door.

"They're going to tow it!" Someone shouted but Carlos didn't listen.

He was late. And it wasn't even his fault this time. He didn't get a chance to ride back home to grab his packed bag. Internally praying that he wasn't too late for the flight.

The phone trapped in his zipped up pocket was muted for the mandatory therapist session he just sprung from. So he never heard the notifications of Hank's messages. Racing time and testing his fate once again.


—

"Thank you, ma'am. I owe you." Wesson offered his charming smile to the lady that switched seats with him and he sank into the one next to his sleeping husband.

Husband.

Damn. He still had to get used to that word but he loved it.

"You look cute like this." Carlos whispered when raking Hank's hair. Taking advantage of his near comatose state. He just couldn't help but touch. Just for a moment.

He already checked the pills he found rolling around the floor by Hank's feet and put them away. Hoping the man didn't take more than one.

Carlos was there for Hank. Throughout the flight. To lean the seat down as much as possible. To cover Hank's limp body with a blanket. To fix the pillow under his head and wipe the bit of saliva that trickled from the corner of his mouth.

He chatted with the sleeping male, quietly reading him the menu and airlines-provided, online magazine. He watched a comedy movie, occasionally giggling and gently squeezing Hank's hand that he had cupped with his. And then he just stared. At the sleeping face of the man he was falling for.

But as the plane landed and Hank's body refused to wake up, Carlos' heartbeat quickened.

"Hey, hey papi, you hear me?" He was sitting front to man's side, gently shaking his shoulder.

"Hank." His tone turned firmer, squeezing man's arm.

"Doctor Hank, you're needed here." His voice echoed in the now empty plane with a stewardess standing next to them on the other side, looking similarly concerned.

THE COP

 

[carrlavoie]

Travis wasn't happy, Vida knew that much. But he had to know it wasn't her fault. Usually Vida worked most every night at the high end bar, Inferno, but lately MarryMe had been rescheduling her - first for her "date" with Stephen, then the absolutely horrendous reception. She'd had to take the full night off after the reception instead of going into work after like she had planned, and Travis had really not liked that, but she had been so sick that there was nothing she could have done. I don't feel like I even drank that much, she thought again, irritated. She was even more of a lightweight than she remembered.

After Vida's couple of absences, Travis's frown had seemed to grow even bigger when a positively massive bouquet of flowers and some fancy chocolates had shown up at the bar for her. An apology from her husband, a promise to start over from the fight they'd already had. Travis didn't like the personal lives of his girls to mix over with his business, but once again it wasn't like Vida was really at fault. Lately things had begun to feel even more out of control than her life usually did and it was making her anxious and irritable and sad. But she plastered on a smile as the other girls at the bar giggled and cooed over her gift and asked her questions about her new marriage. What was her husband like? Was he hot? Was he a good kisser? When would Vida and him get to- you know. They had laughed as her face flushed and she stumbled over an answer to that last question. She'd promised to share the chocolates with them if they stopped pestering her with uncomfortable questions. The best thing that had come from the flowers was that the eyes of Inferno's male high end clientele and watched her more closely that night and her tips has been much higher than usual. Still, she couldn't shake the feeling of Travis's angry glare tracking her the week leading up to her honeymoon.

Vida still wasn't sure what to think of Stephen. The reception had left a sour taste in her mouth and she'd always been bad at letting go of grudges. The tone of every text they had exchanged had felt flat and insincere, but she couldn't tell if it was because that's how they really were or if she was just coloring them that way from her own anger. Vida had always trusted her instincts on people - they were usually right - and her instincts kept telling her that something about Stephen was off. But what could she do about that anyway? The MarryMe gods had matched them and the couple was already married; at this point all she could do was make the best of what was to come.

Dressed in leggings, an oversized tee shirt, and comfortable shoes, Vida had settled in to the uncomfortable flight to Love Island - barf. At the very least she was actually grateful that she hadn't been seated next to Stephen for the flight. As much as she didn't like being pressed against strangers in the cramped seats they were given, she felt it would have been even more awkward to be pressed against her stranger-husband. She spent the flight counting her breaths and wiping sweaty palms against her pants, trying to calm her nerves. After landing, Vida was surprised when instead of being led to the shuttle buses like the other MarryMe matches she caught sight of, she was brought to a gleaming black limousine. Her steps faltered, her grip on her small carry on duffle bag tightening slightly. She felt incredibly underdressed, staring at her reflection in the spotless tinted windows of the fancy car. An attendant took her small bag - the only one she'd brought - and another opened the door for her, ushering her in.

"Oh," Vida blinked in response to Stephen's words. "Thank you. This is a lot more comfortable than the bus I was expecting to take." She hoped her smile and laugh looked genuine, and she consciously relaxed her shoulders, settling into the seat next to her husband. Letting her eyes drift and take in the man next to her, she chewed on that. Husband. She felt her lips form the word, though no sound came out. It felt foreign in her mouth and she wondered how long it would take before this became her new normal: a wealthy, well-dressed, very attractive husband who rides in limousines and sends her flowers, sincere or not.

The estate forming through the trees of the jungle caught Vida's attention as the limousine neared the impressive building, complete with gardens and fountains. Her lips formed an 'O' of awe as she eagerly scooted closer to Stephen to bring herself a little closer to the window sporting the amazing view. She leaned over him slightly, eyes darting every which way to not miss a thing."Wow," she breathed softly. As the fancy car pulled to a stop in front of the wide doors, Vida dropped back into her senses and jerked back slightly, cheeks flushing as she realized how she'd practically draped herself across Stephen's lap in her shock and awe. She cleared her throat awkwardly as he spoke and smiled up at him, face still flaming, then quickly scooted out the door.

Vida took the glass of champagne offered to her, letting Stephen take the room key alongside his drink, and followed the woman down the hall towards their suite. She noticed that Stephen didn't immediately drink his, and she eyed her own drink with distrust. When the woman left them in front of the large door to their rooms, the blond turned to the man beside her. "It's probably best that you drink mine too. I'm guessing you can hold your alcohol a lot better than I can," she joked, smiling apologetically in reference to her awful attitude the last time they had seen each other. She was wary of either of them drinking, to be honest, but she also didn't want Stephen to feel like she was a chain weighing him down during this trip. This was their chance to really get to know each other and build a foundation for the life they were going to build together from here on out. She needed to give him the benefit of the doubt.

 

[NightPhoenix]

scroll

@mjcha_renee

renee

mood

Extremely nervous

outfit

Click here

location

Affinity Estate

interactions

Connor Grant ( SteepVision )

tags

Chad Burton ( IceCave )

"Connor Grant… Renee Cha. This is your stop."

Renee started. She had been lightly dozing, the journey having worn on her. She jumped to her feet and tried to gather her thoughts, grabbing her luggage. As she did so, a man with brown hair stood as well and reached for her bag.

"Ma'am. May I?"

"Oh! Thank you very much,"

she said, slightly embarrassed. Maybe she still looked a little dazed.

"You look a picture. If you don’t mind my sayin’... Are you here for the honeymoon? Who's your match?"

"Yes, I'm here for the honeymoon,"

she answered, gratefully taking his hand as they stepped off the shuttle.

"My match is...well, we haven't met, actually, so I can't describe him very well, but he seems...energetic."

As she caught sight of the luxurious building ahead of them, she couldn't help but be blown away. Her #MarryMe office was pretty nice, but this was on a whole other level.

"Damn, I never been to a place like this. Not as a guest, anyhow,"

the man whistled.

"It's amazing,"

she agreed, smiling at him. She gave him a quick glance over; he wasn't her match, but a friend would be nice to have—especially considering the rocky start she had already gotten off to with Chad. Just thinking about it made her die inside again. She was not looking forward to that ceremony. But it would probably work out...right?

Anyway, she took the man in, noting that he had warm eyes, and yet was powerfully built. There was a sense of gentleness about him, and she felt like she'd be safe with him.

"You said 'not as a guest', though; is there an interesting story there? Also, I'm sorry, I didn't catch your name from the announcement earlier. You are...?"

♡coded by uxie♡

 

[spilledcoffee]

The time they had spent together had been brief, their text conversation even briefer…and yet Anya couldn’t help but be filled with excitement at the prospect of seeing Tara again. Not even just seeing her, but being able to spend an extended amount of time with her, even if it would be surrounded by other couples and likely incessantly interrupted by whatever hellish activities MarryMe had planned. None of that mattered, not when she had a wife to get to know.

A frequent flier, Anya barely noticed the plane ride over to the ‘Love Island’, whatever that meant. With earbuds in and a blanket tucked up to her chin against the chill of the air con, Anya spent the entire ride over either sleeping or with her head in a book, intermittently peeking over the headrest to see if she caught a glimpse of any of the other couples. She didn’t know whether to be surprised or disappointed when she didn’t see anyone. It made sense to put them all on the same flight, but the plane was large, with hundreds of passengers, and she hadn’t really had a chance to truly get to know anyone else at the reception. Not enough to recognise them from the back of their head, anyway.

Touching down in the Caribbean, Anya grabbed her Gucci bag from the overhead locker and stepped out into the sunshine, sliding a pair of dark Prada sunglasses up the bridge of her nose. Her face broke out into a brilliant smile as soon as she heard Tara’s voice, and she immediately went to wrap her arms around the woman, brain lagging just a few steps behind. Only when they’re caught in the embrace does Anya stop to think about whether it’s appropriate. Even though they were married, they still barely knew each other. Was this too much, too fast? Would this ruin any progress made during their texts? Head spinning, Anya stepped back out of the forced hug and let Tara guide her towards the shuttle bus.

“The meathead? Chad?” Her face wrinkled into a disapproving frown. “I want to give him the benefit of the doubt but…” She shrugged her shoulders, stepping onto the shuttle bus and leaning against one of the metal handrails, body angled towards Tara. “I didn’t see any of the other couples on the flight, not from our ceremony. It feels a bit weird that we’ve got to spend our honeymoon with them - what purpose does it even serve?”

 

[upscalerat]

After her wedding ceremony and what had apparently been a half of a handle of vodka, Sona had spent approximately 60 straight hours holed up in her apartment. It was, in some part, due to her hangover; in some part, it was due to fear. She was reluctant to reach out to her new wife again after their introduction and initial conversation- though they had left things on a much more pleasant note, she wasn't ready to face Haru again. Or put her foot in her mouth again. Besides that, she was in part avoiding her friends, as well. She wasn't ready to talk with Davina and Zubair about the fact that she was married, now, and that had screwed the studio over, and that MarryMe was still busy ripping all of her plans apart. Talking about it would make it real, but she was safe if she stayed inside.

So that was what she did. And then MarryMe infiltrated her apartment as well, kindly informing her that her honeymoon was coming up- a venture to Love Island. Maybe she'd get there and find out that this had somehow all been some big prank, like that old television show? It certainly felt like it, Sona thought, as she packed her bag for mystery activities on her sudden honeymoon. She had spent some time perusing the profiles of some of the other newlyweds from the ceremony, but not enough to be able to pluck any familiar faces out of the crowds at the airport, and kept to herself for the multi-hour plane ride.

She had a duffel bag packed and secured in the overhead bin, and then a small bag that rested on her lap if she got bored. The bag was worn, its original color having given way to a drab gray save for some garish patches that were various ages of worn out; it had been something that Sona had used for long trips as a child, large enough to fit a couple of books and a handheld console, a deck of cards, and other such pieces of entertainment. With the person beside her asleep for the flight, Sona went back and forth between playing an old game and listening to music, trying to follow her neighbor's example. MarryMe had been kind enough to book her in the cheapest class, and the cramped seat made it hard for Sona to fall asleep despite her best efforts.

When the plane touched ground again, she was relieved to know that the ordeal was almost over. Disboarding dragged on and on; some people were having trouble waking up, or retrieving their own luggage. As Sona stretched and glanced around, she thought she spied some vaguely familiar faces- none that she could put names to, or would want to risk reminiscing about their shared wedding with, though. It really had been quite the event. Something that Haru and I will be able to laugh at one day, I suppose. Assuming that the algorithm was right, that was, and that they really were such a suitable match. And assuming that Sona would have sufficient time to not think about the ceremony.

Sona ended up being one of the later passengers to get off of the plane. Her joints offered a symphony of cracks and pops as she was finally able to stand and reach for her duffel and yank it through the narrow aisle and off of the plane. Though the subsequent airport was full of people, it felt refreshing to finally be able to have some space and reorganize. Bag and jacket in duffel- check. Swap socks and sneakers for sandals- check. For now, the jeans stayed, but making her shorts easily accessible so she could change those once at the lodgings- check. All that was missing was a gift for Haru.

Her new wife's profile had mentioned an interest in painting, and wine. Sona didn't know the first thing about painting, and didn't think that a novice taking a stab in the dark at art supplies was a good call; so wine was the obvious choice- unfortunately, flying made that a difficult item to bring. But now that she was here and hadn't seen her wife yet... It seemed like the perfect chance to be able to acquire some sort of a surprise. Thinking that she might not get an opportunity like this again once she made it to- well, to wherever MarryMe had put them up, Sona began wandering the terminal, rather than looking for the exit.

Perhaps unsurprisingly, it wasn't difficult to find a little liquor store, promoting rum and tequila made with local fruit, and a surprising variety of wine. It wasn't until she was staring down the bottles that it occurred to Sona that she didn't know what sort of wine Haru liked. She deliberated, worried, for several minutes at that, until her brain managed to catch up to the situation. Get something completely new. I'm not on the hook if it's bad, then, right? Well, it was something to work with. She perused for a few more minutes, looking for something novel that didn't sound awful. When she had finally made her selection and ate the zealous markup, she was finally ready to make her way out of the airport and into the sun.

Outside, a sign indicated that a shuttle would be coming for herself and any other newlyweds. As if to prove it, Sona could see one such shuttle driving off, leaving her to wait for the next one, alone until the next person arrived.

 

[spilledcoffee]

So what had Haru learnt between her so-called wedding and the flight to her honeymoon destination?

One: Her wife had tried to flee the wedding on the arm of a man who, from what she had observed so far, was the biggest dickhead alive.

Two: Said dickhead was seemingly not interested in his own partner, but very interested in her wife - enough, at least, for him to go out of his way to miraculously find her mobile number and to strike up a conversation. And when he’d been caught in the act, he hadn’t even had the balls to face her. At this point, a fight was inevitable.

Three: After one text conversation, her wife didn’t want to talk to her. Haru knew what a brutal hangover looked like - being out of commission for a few days, sure, but a whole week? Sona was avoiding her, and clearly wasn’t interested in making up for lost time.

So here lay the dilemma: Haru wanted to punch Chad into next week, but her wife - who’s “honour” she supposed she would be defending - didn’t actually seem to care about forging a relationship either way. So was a confrontation worth it when she could just sit back, let MarryMe jet her off to an exotic location, and pay for all her alcohol?

The answer could be found in Haru spending the entire flight getting absolutely sloshed. Somehow she managed to convince the two people seated next to her to join in, and by the time the plane touched down, their aisle was littered with tiny (and very empty) plastic cups and bottles, and Haru felt light-headed and free. So what if her wife couldn’t stand her? Some of the other couples had seemed like fun - that girl with the tattoos in the style of blue china, and the guy with the sage green hair and his protective husband - what’s to say she couldn’t convince them to also treat the honeymoon like a piss up? Even if she didn’t end up with a fulfilling marriage, perhaps she might find a new drinking buddy or two.

Dizzy as she was, Haru was one of the last people to exit the plane, and nausea hit as soon as her feet settled on tarmac. Alright, perhaps she’d gone a bit overboard with the mixing…but it had felt good while she’d been sitting down. Haru was able to take two steps before she hurled the contents of her stomach onto the runway, another three before she deposited the rest on the shoes of a nervous air hostess. The rest was a blur of fuzzy snapshots: a wheelchair here, an angry-looking medic there, a bunch of fluids, and a police officer slapping her with a fine. By the time the airport spat her out, Haru was decidedly less drunk and left to contemplate her life choices.

That was how she stumbled upon Sona waiting at the shuttle stop: sunglasses on, a massive bag of Cheetos in hand, and smelling faintly of alcohol sweat.

“Oh. Hi, wife.”

 

[SteepVision]

“Is there a story?” His neck craned to the vaulted ceiling, Connor turned a half circle. A domed skylight, high above, beaming sunshine onto reflective floors. A few clear marked exits, a few less obvious, but who knew where to go from there. Jungle like this weren’t forgiving. “Naw. Just wishful thinkin’.”He turned his gaze back to Renee, smile creased faint lines at the corner of his eyes, and wiped his hand on his shorts. “I’m Connor.” Offering his open palm, sweaty as it were. “Pleasure t’ meet you, ma’am.”

There was something reserved in her manner. Maybe he just weren't used to a lady, but it felt like those dark eyes kept him at arm’s length. He couldn’t blame anyone for that. Not her. Not Vix…

"I feel stupid." What was he admitting this this to a stranger for? His sigh tight. Rubbing at the back of his skull. "I get this is government mandated but I- still aint know if he's coming. Yunno? The course of true love never did run smooth…” He just couldn’t shake this feeling. Like maybe he’d fucked up. That Vix would choose some exit strategy, rather than… “Are you worried? Bout weather this is gonna be…” Real. Genuine. Happy Ever After. All the shit they were promised.

 

[Kendrix-lamar]

Tara was glad to get on the shuttle bus and appreciated that it took off before Chad could join them. It wasn't till then she took in what Anya had on and her bag. It was Gucci, she was petty sure the woman's outfit cost as much as her rent. Which made her sick to think about. She was glad for the reminder as to why she was doing this, why she agreed to hack into the Affinity app. She snapped out of her thoughts to respond to the last thing she heard from Anya.

"I think just so we have friends in this. To not be alone in this process " she shrugged giving her best guess. She watched out the window till the bus came to a stop. She marveled at the estate her jaw nearly dropped at the beauty. Was this all the government waisted their money on instead of helping those in need? She shook her head a bit being guided off. The reality sinking in the two were about to share a room for their honeymoon. She'd figure out ways to keep a safe distance but still have Anya invested so she could meet her goals. A woman greeted them with champagne which Tara gladly took drinking it down. Another staff member took their luggage. "Follow me and I'll show you your room" she told the two with a big smile.

Tara followed taking in the grounds. She definitely planned on walking around some more later. Might as well enjoy the free vacation right? She followed the staff member inside all the marble way too much for Tara's taste. They were given two keys to a room. When the door opened it was huge, but most notably was that there was only one bed. Though Tara did spot a couch if needed. "Thank you." She told the staff member looking to decompress for a moment after such a long flight. "I may shower before we have to go get those drinks with the group." She let Anya know, she wasn't looking forward to being around mister slimy again but at least she'd have some buffer.

 

[SteepVision]

Spoiler

Sharp breath caught in his throat, Hank startled. Blinking dry eyes in confusion, the weight of inertia heavy on his head. “Carlos?” His husband’s expressive eyes were coloured by concern. Fuck It felt like he’d been yanked from NREM-3. He must have been out cold. No dreams. “I’m up.” His voice a little hoarse. A bleary glance cast around the cabin. Empty, except for Carlos, and the stewards watching impatiently from the end of the isle.

Hank scrubbed a palm over his face, his brow lined. Reaching for a plastic water bottle shoved into the seat pocket. Room temperature, but a relief. Washing his mouth and throat.

Christ. How long had Carlos been here? The faint discomfort of embarrassment creeping into his gut. “I’m fine. Thanks.” Nobody asked, and he could bet he didn't look fine. Using the seats to steady himself as he stood, his muscles heavy and dull. “Carlos, could you pass my case from the locker?”

It was a relief to see tarmac. Swamped in tropical heat the second he left the door and descended the stairs. His eyes narrowed against the bright glare, following the arrows towards customs.

They walked side by side. Hank watching his husband curiously from the corner of his eye. Carlos looked good. Better. The cuts and burns were healing nicely. Only a shadow of bruising left under the warm tone of his skin. Healthy. His corneas, clear and white.

Hank had browsed his photos and videos. A lot of them shirtless, showing off tattoos, an enviable athletic build. The smile he flashed full of cheek. In person, it was all genuine. Hank didn't think he'd ever known anyone like it. Not so expressive, so objectively attractive and apparently extroverted. Radiating a positivity that could almost make him forget what Carlos had been through.The body-cam footage still stark and vivid in his mind.

Hank’s small black case, in addition to the hand luggage Carlos still carried, arrived on the illuminated carousel. But where was Carlos' bag? His brow furrowed. Realizing too slowly that he had nothing on him but the clothes he was wearing. “Where’s your bag?” Or was his brain so hazy he wasn't seeing the whole picture? “There a problem at check-in?”

Pierce

Hank

Sharp breath caught in his throat, Hank startled. Blinking dry eyes in confusion, the weight of inertia heavy on his head. “Carlos?” His husband’s expressive eyes were coloured by concern. Fuck It felt like he’d been yanked from NREM-3. He must have been out cold. No dreams. “I’m up.” His voice a little hoarse. A bleary glance cast around the cabin. Empty, except for Carlos, and the stewards watching impatiently from the end of the isle.

Hank scrubbed a palm over his face, his brow lined. Reaching for a plastic water bottle shoved into the seat pocket. Room temperature, but a relief. Washing his mouth and throat.

Christ. How long had Carlos been here? The faint discomfort of embarrassment creeping into his gut. “I’m fine. Thanks.” Nobody asked, and he could bet he didn't look fine. Using the seats to steady himself as he stood, his muscles heavy and dull. “Carlos, could you pass my case from the locker?”

It was a relief to see tarmac. Swamped in tropical heat the second he left the door and descended the stairs. His eyes narrowed against the bright glare, following the arrows towards customs.

They walked side by side. Hank watching his husband curiously from the corner of his eye. Carlos looked good. Better. The cuts and burns were healing nicely. Only a shadow of bruising left under the warm tone of his skin. Healthy. His corneas, clear and white.

Hank had browsed his photos and videos. A lot of them shirtless, showing off tattoos, an enviable athletic build. The smile he flashed full of cheek. In person, it was all genuine. Hank didn't think he'd ever known anyone like it. Not so expressive, so objectively attractive and apparently extroverted. Radiating a positivity that could almost make him forget what Carlos had been through.The body-cam footage still stark and vivid in his mind.

Hank’s small black case, in addition to the hand luggage Carlos still carried, arrived on the illuminated carousel. But where was Carlos' bag? His brow furrowed. Realizing too slowly that he had nothing on him but the clothes he was wearing. “Where’s your bag?” Or was his brain so hazy he wasn't seeing the whole picture? “There a problem at check-in?”

.

coded by reveriee.

 

[Kendrix-lamar]

Having seen Vida's initial tense body language coming into the limo Stephen had been worried he'd be met with more cold shoulders. Couldn't this woman give him a chance? He had ended up brewing those thoughts however when she scooted closer to check out the hotel from the car and saw her awe maybe it all had just been nerves cause she never had such an experience? He felt bad thinking on that, perhaps he could show her a true vacation, at least in his eyes.

The blush alone made Stephen's heart rate pick up. Goddamn she was truly a beauty. Even if she was dressed in such casual clothes it just showed off her natural beauty. His thoughts stayed there mostly until they were standing at the door and vida offered up her drink. "I thought you said less drinking? Affinity already is ordering mandatory drinks with the group. Figured I'd just have one there" he said trying to hold back his drinking habits. Though Vida didn't know he had a drink on the plane, who could blame him? It wasn't like he was like another from their group he spotted slinging back multiple drinks.

He let her hold onto the drink unlocking the door. The room was massive, a giant king bed with rose pettles laid out, a small love seat, a tiny dinning table, a gorgeous view, and a massive bathroom which included a jacuzzi tub. Stephen had nicer in his experiences but tried to hold back his opinions pretty sure Vida hadn't had the same experiences. "This is very nice" he commented a bit too flatly even if he didn't mean to. He put his drink down on the small table before taking off his suit jacket. It was way to warm to keep wearing. "I guess we could change before these drinks. I may change up my pants" he admitted though he'd have to wait on his luggage. His thoughts were really on the bed, the single bed and how Vida would handle that. She didn't even want to share a simple kiss, would she want to share the bed?