#to be fair there are times where I’ll go to someone’s profile to block and they’ve blocked me

[whoreiaki-kakyoin]

Every time I see content from people I’ve blocked/who have blocked me on my dashboard, I sigh internally. Tumblr, what is this?

[scuttling]

(You Want To) Make a Memory

Fandom: Criminal Minds Pairing: Aaron Hotchner/Latina Original Female Character Word Count: 19,858 Chapters: 5 of 5 Complete Tags: 18+, NSFW, Amnesia, Anxiety attacks, Sex dreams, Dom/sub, Daddy kink, Praise kink, Unprotected sex, Vaginal fingering, Dirty talk, Choking, Biting, Hickies, Oral sex, Making love, Angst and feels, Shower sex, Size kink Summary: Sophie gets amnesia while working a case and forgets everything from the last two years: her friends, her job at the BAU, and her boyfriend, Aaron. Note: This is a reformatted, previously published work. :)

Link to AO3 or read Chapter 1 below!

The thing Sophie finds most complicated about her work at the BAU is that it’s their job to predict the unpredictable. Yes, they are all highly educated, knowledgeable profilers, with decades of experience between them, and human behavior typically follows patterns that are easily discernible if you have the right training. But even armed with all the information, all the statistics, all the data, there’s one thing they can never really know for certain: what a desperate person will do in the heat of the moment.

The unsub they are looking for is a white male, aged 25-35, who lives alone, has a steady daylight job, drives a red pickup truck, and has a problem with older female authority figures. Sophie could go on and on about this particular type of unsub—she could tell you where he shops, how he spends his evenings, his favorite sport/team/player, probably even what he’ll eat for dinner tonight—but there’s no way she can know how he’ll react to the FBI at his door, or the consequences his actions will have.

The team is canvassing the neighborhood they believe the unsub resides in, and she and Spencer were assigned the four hundred block; they each take a separate side of the street, and work their way down house by house trying to find someone who fits the profile, or knows someone who does.

“Any luck?” Sophie asks Spencer when they meet back up at the end of the the block. He grimaces, uncertain.

“There was one guy, but…” She gestures toward the SUV and they walk toward it together.

“What happened? Profile didn’t fit?”

“He was the right demographic, the vehicle fit, but he wasn’t disorganized. In fact, his home looked like it belonged in a catalog: photos on the walls, decorative items, nothing out of place.” She frowns a little, because it’s clear this guy has raised some red flags for her partner, and she trusts his intuition when it comes to stuff like this.

“And he lives alone?” she asks, confirming. That’s a pretty big part of the profile, considering what he does to the victims. He nods.

“Yes, no indication of a girlfriend or wife living there.” Sophie blows out a breath, leans against the side of the SUV.

“Okay, let’s brainstorm. Maybe... he hires a housekeeper.” Spencer shrugs.

“He didn’t seem like the type, but I guess it’s possible.”

“Alright, well… Okay, so our profile is of a man who kills older women because he has an issue with an older woman who is an authority figure in his life. We thought maybe his boss, but what if it’s his mother?” she asks, face lighting up a little. This theory makes more sense, actually. “What if she comes over while he’s at work, cleans the place up, redecorates, just takes complete control of his life, even his private space, and he loses it?” He nods enthusiastically.

“That is extremely more likely. Now that I think of it, all the photos were of him and an older woman who could be his mother.” Sophie pulls out her phone, gestures over her shoulder with her thumb.

“Let’s head back there; Hotch and JJ are just around the corner, I’ll let them know we might need backup. 412?”

“Yeah—hey, that’s the truck. That’s the truck,” he says with more urgency, pointing down the street at a rapidly approaching red pickup truck that matches the description of the unsub’s. Shit.

“Okay, get in the car, call Hotch,” she instructs, and they both barely make it in before the truck rear-ends the SUV on the driver's side; Sophie’s head hits off the steering wheel hard, and the car rocks, and she looks over at Spencer, a little disoriented, to make sure he’s okay. He’s holding his wrist, like maybe he hurt it bracing himself.

When she gets her bearings, she starts the car, throws it into reverse, ready to apply a little force and potentially keep him from striking again, but he backs up, speeds up, and cuts the wheel to go around them, striking her door and driving past. It’s then that another SUV cuts him off, and Hotch and JJ jump out, guns drawn; the unsub raises his hands, surrenders, and it’s over as quickly as it began.

“Sophie?” She can hear her name, but her head is swimming. She touches the cut above her temple, pulls back a hand covered in blood, but she knows head injuries bleed heavily, so she’s not worried. She’s more worried that she can’t tell where that voice is coming from. It’s like she’s in a fun house, sounds echoing from all sides. “Sophie, can you hear me?” She hums in response.

Kind hands are on her face, turning it toward the sun, and she scrunches her eyes at the brightness. She knows the hands are trying to help, but her head already hurts, and the light isn’t doing her any favors.

“Gotta… get up,” she mumbles, and the hands hold her waist, help her out of the car. Her left foot hurts when she puts her weight down on it, and she almost folds, but the hands hold her up, and she thinks she smiles.

“Reid—is she okay?” That voice is a voice that makes her want to answer immediately, even if her brain hasn’t quite caught up. She stumbles over her words.

“‘M okay. Just my… head.” A different pair of hands hold her up, and her brain is working enough to recognize that she loves the smell of the person attached to the hands. They are serious hands, and one of them sweeps gently over her face.

“Can you open your eyes for me, baby, please?” that good voice asks, and she wants to do anything the voice asks, but her eyes really hurt. She must say that out loud, because the voice says softly, “That’s alright, don’t strain yourself. Medics on the way. You’re going to be fine.”

“Tell him…” She is placed back in the car, can feel the softness of the seat against her back, and it’s nice. “Tell him that was mean… and not to do it again.” She feels lips on her face, turns toward them, sighs when they brush over hers. “Mmm. Or I’m going to… tell his mother.”  When Sophie wakes up, she feels like she’s been repeatedly punched in the head, thrown down a flight of stairs, and then run over by a truck, so, naturally, she groans. She doesn’t dare open her eyes at first, can already see the fluorescents flickering through her eyelids, but her mouth is dry, and since she knows she must be in a hospital, she knows that there’s a little plastic pitcher of water somewhere within her reach.

Cautiously, she cracks one eye, finds the pitcher and a kind looking woman with fair skin and dark bangs staring back at her.

“You’re awake!” she whispers excitedly, and she leans forward for a hug, which Sophie does not return, because she doesn’t know the woman. The woman must feel the tension in Sophie’s body as she sits, arms at her sides, and waits for the hug to end, because she pulls back, concerned. “Are you okay? Did I hurt you?”

“No,” she begins, unsure of how to put this politely. Her voice is dry, rough, and the woman pours her a glass of water, which she takes gratefully. “I’m sorry, I just… I don’t… Do I know you?” Her face falls, and she looks confused, and then abruptly worried.

“My name is Emily. Prentiss. Does that ring a bell?” Sophie thinks back, tries to navigate around the pounding in her temples, and ultimately shakes her head.

“No, I’m sorry. And I mean no disrespect—I meet a lot of people for work, so sometimes it’s hard to keep track.”

“Where do you work?”

“I work for the FBI. Intelligence.” Sophie takes in the woman’s outfit—black turtleneck, gray pants, boots, government issued handgun—and tilts her head curiously. “And you?”

“FBI. Behavioral Analysis Unit.” She pulls her bag closer on the seat beside her, pulls out her credentials, lets Sophie hold them. “Have you heard of it?”

“Sure, of course. I have an interview there next week, actually.” She hands back the badge with a smile. “Small world. Uh, do you think that what happened to me occurred because of a crime, or something? Is that why you’re here?"

Agent Prentiss gives her a sad smile, then stands, pulling out her cell phone. “You know, we’re really not sure what’s going on. Excuse me for one moment, I need to make a call. I’ll get your doctor while I’m out there.”

“Okay. Thanks,” Sophie calls as she heads out of the room, and she pours another glass of water.

When the agent returns with the doctor, she looks tenser, but the doctor just shoots her a kind smile. “Hello, Sophie. I’m glad to see you’re awake.”

“Thank you; I’m glad to be awake. How long have I been out?”

“About two days. You were in a car accident, do you remember that?” She’d catalogued her injuries while alone—laceration to the head, some pain and swelling there; aching wrist, sore but unbroken; bruised ankle, tender but okay to put pressure on—and they are consistent with a car accident, but she shakes her head.

“No, ma’am, I don’t remember.” The doctor frowns, an expression the agent behind her mirrors.

“What’s the last thing you do remember?”

“Um.” She closes her eyes, thinks hard for a moment, but it hurts her eyes. “I was driving home from work, I think? Or about to leave for the day. It’s kind of blurry.”

“That’s alright, don’t press too hard. It should come back to you in no time.” She steps around the bed to pull her chart off the wall, skims it briefly. “We’re going to have to run some scans; I’ll give you a moment with Agent Prentiss, and then I’ll send someone in to take you down to the lab, okay?”

“Sure. Thank you, doctor.” The woman smiles and walks out of the room, leaving her with the clearly unhappy agent. “Is everything okay, Agent Prentiss? You look about as bad as I feel.” The woman sighs, drops back down into her seat, folds her hands in her lap.

“The doctor believes you’re suffering from retrograde amnesia. You don’t remember some things you should remember. Quite a bit of time.” Her throat goes dry again, her heart beats rapidly in her chest.

“That’s not possible. I remember driving home from work… or, getting in the car to drive home from work, just the other day.” She shakes her head like she’s not sure what to say.

“I know, Sophie, but that’s not a recent memory. You don’t work at the Grant building anymore.”

“What do you mean? I’m the Intelligence liaison. I mean, I applied for the BAU job…” She’s wanted to work there since she found out about it, to put her degrees to good use; to get an interview is almost unheard of, everyone told her, but she made the cut, even bought a new suit to wear. It’s still hanging in her closet.

“And you got it,” Prentiss says gently, reaching forward to take her hand. “You and I have been working together at the BAU for almost two years.”

Sophie can’t be blamed, she doesn’t think, when she leans over, reaches for the wastebasket, and promptly vomits.  “So I’m a profiler, and I’ve been one for two years. I work with you and we’re friends,” Sophie repeats as a bit of a recap. Prentiss nods.

“Yep. Those who profile serial killers together, stick together.” She says it with a smile that doesn’t touch her eyes.

“Wow. Okay. I’m really sorry I don’t remember you.” She shrugs it off, and Sophie sighs. “Any other major life events I should know about? Did I get a cat, go vegan?”

“You don’t have time for a pet, and you like cheese too much,” Prentiss jokes, but that does sound like something she’d say. Her face gets serious after that, and she even looks nervous. It makes Sophie nervous, too. “You have a boyfriend.”

That raises her eyebrows.

“I have a boyfriend.” She smiles softly, nods.

“Yes. He’s… it’s funny, because he’s actually... our boss.” Sophie blanches. Talk about a close-knit group.

“I’m sleeping with my boss? That is not like me.” She barely sleeps with anyone, too busy focusing on her career and not that into one-night-stands, but her boss of all people? That’s just plain stupid.

“It’s really not like that, trust me. You two are in love.” Okay, she’s heard enough. Maybe Prentiss is a prankster, playing some wildly hilarious joke on her amnesiac pal.

“I’m in love. Did I actually say that?” She knows herself pretty well, flaws and all, and she’s been a vehement skeptic when it comes to love for… god, as long as she can remember—no pun intended. Prentiss nods, looks very serious.

“Yes, I’ve heard you say it many, many times. You two live together.”

“We live together? For how long?” This can’t be right; one of the things she values most is her privacy, her solitude. She lives a quiet, simple life, aside from being an FBI agent, and she likes it that way.

“About six months,” she answers carefully.

“We’ve lived together for six months? How long have we been dating?” Her voice sounds a little shrill even to her own ears. Prentiss is being very cool about it all, doesn’t so much as blink.

“It’s a year next week, actually. He’s been trying to come up with a surprise for your anniversary.” Sophie feels a little lightheaded.

“Anniversary. Fuck.” She squeezes her eyes shut, which hurts, opens them only so the pain will go away. She knows they’re teary, can’t help it, but she doesn’t want Prentiss to see her like this. She hates being vulnerable, always has. “I can’t remember two years of my life. I can’t remember my own boyfriend, my own job. My friends.”

“I can tell you about them, if you want,” she offers cautiously. “The doctor said it could help, but if you feel like it’s too much, let me know.”

Sophie nods carefully. She wants to know, she needs to know.

Prentiss—Emily—is so genuinely kind. She sits there for an hour, tells Sophie about work, and their team—their friends, because the group is very tight, gets together for dinner and drinks, and they all support each other’s non-bureau endeavors, and she feels so sad that she can’t remember them, can’t recall anything Emily is rattling off so easily it’s like she doesn’t even have to think about it.

She talks about some tough cases they’ve worked on, and how they always end with a cookout or a family dinner so they can remember why they do the hard things, why they keep fighting. She talks about people they’ve helped, saved, brought comfort to. She talks about flights home on the jet, how sometimes they sit in quiet, companionable silence and other times it’s all teasing and laughter and the good things in life.

Then she starts talking about Aaron—the boss/boyfriend—and Sophie does cry, a couple of tears rolling slowly down her cheeks. She’d never imagined in her life that she would be as loved as she is, if Emily’s stories are true, and the fact that she can’t remember any of it is like a knife to the gut. She wants to scream, to make someone pay for what she’s missing, but she knows none of that will bring her memory back, so she dials back the rage as quickly as it came—huh, that’s new.

Usually, her particular brand of anxiety attack would happen right about now, always worse when she’s afraid or angry. She anticipates tightening in her chest, shortness of breath, ringing in her ears that takes forever to go away, but it doesn’t come. She’s able to calm herself with a deep breath, and despite the fact that the rest of her life is a dumpster fire right now, this feels kind of good. It feels like progress, not a story told through someone else’s eyes, but a tangible feeling she can hold onto and think, I am a different version of Sophie than I was two years ago. A better version, maybe. But at least different. That, above everything else, makes it real.

A nurse walks in to take Sophie down for scans, and Emily just smiles, a bit sadly, and tells her she’ll be there waiting when she returns.

It’s a small comfort, something she holds onto as she’s taken down to the lab. When Sophie makes it back to her room, Emily is waiting there as promised, and she has a duffle bag sitting on the bed. “The doctor says you can go home while they wait for the scans,” she says with a smile; she probably thinks it will make Sophie happy, and it does, but the idea of going to a home she’s never been to is a little unsettling. Still, it’s nice to know there are people who care about her who will help her through it, that she’s not alone. That’s not something Sophie of two years ago would have been able to count on.

She smiles back, and Emily helps her change into clothes that somehow still smell like the hospital, but it feels better to be dressed and not stuck in the flimsy hospital gown that always makes you feel weaker and sicker, more injured than you really are.

She hears a voice from out in the hall, a voice that catches her attention immediately, and she walks over to the door, peeks her head out to see if she can find the man it belongs to.

She does, and he is almost too good-looking to be real. Somehow, she both instinctively knows that this man is Aaron, and can’t see how that could possibly be true.

“Emily. Is that Aaron?” she asks to confirm, pointing to the tall, serious-looking, frankly smoldering hot man having a conversation with her doctor at the end of the hall. She peeks her head out the door too, looks toward him with a smile.

“Yeah, that’s him. Do you remember him?” Her tone is guarded but hopeful, and Sophie sighs.

Remember him, no, not in the way she means, but every cell in her body feels alive and on fire just from catching a glimpse of his face, so she’s pretty sure Emily is right and she’s crazy in love with him. And his suit. Who looks that good in a suit?

Her boyfriend, apparently. Who she lives with. Who she’s been with for a year. Her mind is still a little blown.

“I don’t recall any memories of him,” she whispers, as if he can hear her from down the hall, “but, uh. I think my body remembers him.” Emily looks at her, eyebrow quirked, and she blushes. “Or, you know. Parts of it.”

Realization dawns, and Emily grins. “Okay yeah, that tracks. You two are kind of all over each other. It’s an intense vibe.” Sophie takes a moment to imagine that, what it would be like to be in a relationship with this man.

He looks intense, which can be good or bad, with the kind of mouth you could kiss forever, smile against. He’s taller than her by about a foot, which thrills her, and broad, as evidenced by the jacket stretched across his shoulders, which really thrills her. He’s older, maybe early forties, which she doesn’t feel particularly strongly about one way or another, with gorgeous dark hair and eyes, and when he shakes hands with the doctor, silver wrist watch gleaming under the fluorescent lights, her mouth practically waters.

“Earth to Sophie. You’ve got a little drool, there,” Emily teases, pointing to her own mouth, and Sophie groans.

“You didn’t prepare me. You didn't tell me he was hot.” Aaron turns away from the doctor, starts walking down the hall toward her room, and she ducks out of the doorframe, Emily following suit. She puts a hand to her forehead, not in physical pain, but mental pain for sure. “God, this is going to be so awkward. I’ve got a total lady boner for the guy I’m in love with that I can’t even remember.”

“It might be a little awkward at first, but you guys are sweet together. He’s going to be so caring and understanding, give you all the time you need.” She puts her hands on Sophie’s arms, grounding her. “We’re going to focus on trying to get your memories back, but the doctor said you shouldn’t stress.”

“That’s easy for her to say,” she mutters, crossing her arms, “she didn’t forget her big sexy boyfriend.” She hears a soft chuckle from behind her and instantly flushes, which makes Emily grin.

“Sophie, this is Aaron.” She physically turns her, and Aaron is smiling gently, which makes him look even better than when he was serious and expressionless. Her heart thrums in her chest.

“Hi. I’m sorry I don’t remember you. I want to.” She sticks out her hand for a shake, feels dumb instantly, but he takes it anyway, holds it for a moment. His hand is rough, so much bigger than hers, and part of her hopes he never lets go.

“That’s alright. Dr. Bracken is confident you’ll recover all of your memories in time. She’s given me some instruction on ways we can try to jog your memory, but no stress, like Emily said.”

“I guess we’re not considering the fact that losing two years of your life is a little stressful,” she counters, and he laughs again.

“You haven’t lost anything. Just misplaced them for a while.” He steps toward her, like he wants to touch her, comfort her maybe, but freezes, thinks better of it. She’s torn between wanting to get to know him better first and wanting to jump into his arms immediately, so she decides to let him set the pace. “So… Do you want to come home with me?” His voice is soft, hopeful, matching his eyes. “Garcia—our friend, another coworker of ours—has offered to put you up at her place if you’re not comfortable with that, so no worries either way. You have a place to go.”

Her stomach sinks a little at the thought of being anywhere but home, even though she has no idea where that is, and she looks back at Emily, who smiles encouragingly.

“I think I want to go home,” she decides after a moment, and she turns back to look at Aaron. “Is that okay with you?” He nods seriously.

“Yes, of course. I want you home with me. I just wanted you to know you had other options.” Emily slips past her, a hand on her elbow, and finishes gathering up her belongings while they talk. “The rest of the team is going to come over for a little bit, if you’re okay with that. The doctor said it would be a good idea, since you spend most of your time with them, but if at any point it gets overwhelming, let me know. No hard feelings if we send everyone home.”

“Okay,” she breathes, her head already swimming a bit just from talking to Aaron, and he does step forward, then, giving her her space but indicating that he wants to come closer, if she’ll let him.

“May I put this on you?” he murmurs, and opens his palm to display her rose necklace, the one she wears, must still wear, everyday. At least that hasn’t changed. “The EMTs gave it to me when they brought you in. I’ve been holding onto it for safekeeping.” She nods, turns around, and he slips it around her throat, clasps it, brushes a careful hand over her neck to move her hair out of the way. “That’s better,” he says, his breath ghosting over her skin, and she sighs, wants to sink back against the heat of his body; she just knows how comforting it would be, how safe she would feel. Instead, she turns and smiles softly.

“Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.” They hold eye contact for a moment, and then Emily appears at her side, making a face like she knows she’s interrupting something.

“Ready to get going?” she asks, handing Sophie’s duffle bag over to Aaron. “I’m going to stop at home and then I’ll head to your place.”

“Absolutely. Thank you, Emily,” Sophie says sincerely, stepping forward to pull her into a tight hug. “I appreciate everything you’ve done for me. I hope I remember more about you soon.”

“I’m happy I could be here, and I know you will. Just give it some time.” She pats her on the back, and then leaves the room.

Aaron carries her bag and leads her out to the parking garage, toward a standard federal issued SUV, and he opens the door for her, closes it behind her with a gentle smile.

Time to go home.

Taglist ❤️: @arsonhotchner @mrsh0tchner @ssahotchie @sleepyreaderreads @mintphoenix @meghannnnnn @disgruntledchowchow @azenpal

[chaoticpuff17]

Suga, We’re Going Down

Part 1

masterlist

Because, my darlings, I have no impulse control and Yoongi demanded to be written. I’m going to see if I can balance between SW and this, alternate releasing chapters for each story, but we’ll see. The title is a working title. don’t know if I’ll stick with it. I’m open to suggestions. Enjoy, my lovlies! It was a blast to write!-- Chaotic puff

here’s a link to the song the MC plays in this chapter!

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3qrKjywjo7Q 

Yoongi didn’t go to events like this. He was a professional, but even professionals got blocks sometimes, and he was having a block. He couldn’t seem to produce anything new. He had spent hours in his studio trying to come up with something, but the muse had abandoned him. He needed to get out of his head, to get out of the studio for a while.

That was how he ended up sitting through a university showcase watching young, aspiring musicians present their skills. It was a far more classical feel than he used in his music. He was a rap god. He didn’t really use Debussy and Mozart in his work. But there was something amusing about watching all the fresh faced youths taking their showcase so seriously. Most of them would never be serious musicians. They would never play for a national symphony, but the way they all looked it was as if they were playing for some great orchestra or symphony instead of a small college showcase was amusing. It was all so serious, all so insignificant.

He was bored with it. Bored with the overly perfect renditions of the same songs that people had been playing for decades. Where was the feeling? Where was the passion? They were all just clinically passing through the motions for a grade. None of them would make serious musicians, not playing the way they did.

He was about to leave when the first strains of the cello caught his attention. It was the first real emotion he had heard from any of them. His eyes snapped to the stage to see a pair of girls. One was seated at the piano while the other was sat on a solitary chair with a cello before her. Both of them were as perfectly put together as every other student that had gone before them had been, black dresses and not a hair out of place.

He ignored the pianist in the favor of the cellist. Her eyes were closed as she played the rest of her face serene. She was completely at peace even though the song she played showed a deep sorrow. The song was just as recognizable as every other piece that had been played that night. The only difference was the musician.

She was lovely, pale and fragile under the stage lights, but there was also something almost unbearably sad about her, and it showed in her playing. The piece itself was already melancholy, but the way she played it was nearly heartbreaking. Her hair was pulled back in a neat updo that left her face clear for his perusal. Even with her eyes closed her face was filled with emotion. The simple string of pearls around her neck highlighted its curve, its swan like quality. Everything about her was simple, classic, graceful as she played.

He looked through the program he had been given when he’d first arrived searching for the song, searching for a name, her name. There is it was. The Swan composed by Camille Saint-Saens played by Kang Y/N and accompanied by Guem Nina. Kang Y/N. The name rang through his head carried by the melody she played. Beautiful. Beautiful and sad just like the song she played, just like her.

The song passed by too quickly for his liking. Before he knew it she was pulling her bow across the strings for the final time. Both musicians bowed to the audience before disappearing backstage and out of his sight. The spell was broken, but Yoongi still wanted to know more. Who was she? Why was she so sad? Why had she chosen that song? Yoongi wanted to know it all. The thought of her sent inspiration running through him. The fire was lit again telling him to create, to compose, for her.

He wanted to know what she would think of his music. Did she listen to rap? More specifically, did she listen to him? Or did she prefer classical music like the kind she had just played? Did she play any other instruments? Did she sing? How would the cello sound intertwined with his own style of music? He wanted to know the answer to all of these questions and so many more, but first he had to find her. Kang Y/N. His new muse.

So he sent out a bodyguard to find out everything about her that he could. Perhaps he should have felt guilty sending out a man to practically stalk the girl and bring him information on her, but he couldn’t bring himself to feel guilty about the invasion of her privacy. She consumed him, filling his thoughts. He wanted her near him. He wanted to hear her play, wanted to wipe the sadness from her features, and he was determined to do just that. She was meant to be his, and he wouldn’t rest until she was.  

Y/N was unaware of the thoughts coursing through his head as she was backstage tucked into a broom closet peeling herself out of her dress and the uncomfortable heels in favor of a pair of ripped jeans and a comfy sweater. She let her hair down from its tight confines and secured it in a loose pony tail. She loved playing, but stepping out on stage was always nerve wracking for her. The dresses and the perfectly put together faces never seemed like her. She wasn’t fancy or elegant. She was just… her. She didn’t even own the cello she had just played. She could never afford such a beautiful instrument. It belonged to the school.

She had had the cello on loan so long as she participated in the university orchestra, but that deal could no longer be upheld on her end. Family and financial obligations would no longer allow it. They were barely making ends meet as it was. She didn’t have the time to spend at rehearsals and practices when she needed to be focusing on her studies and working. Even her studies would have to take a back seat if their fortunes didn’t take a turn for the better soon.

It was just her, her grandmother, and her baby nephew, well no longer quite a baby. He was going to be three before she knew it. Her mother had taken off years ago. She flew in and out of their lives whenever it suited her usually when she wanted someone from them. Her father, bless him, couldn’t hold down a job to save his life. He was a dreamer. He sat at home most days contemplating the great questions of life like some sort of great philosopher. Most times he was drunk when he did this. She thanked god that he wasn’t violent drunk. His head was in the clouds more than else when he was drunk. Her sister, well no one really knew where Ha Jin was. She had taken off after the baby was born. She’d left Eun Jae with her and their grandmother, and she’d disappeared into the wind just like their mother had.

Part of her wanted to blame her little sister, to scream to the high heavens that it wasn’t fair that she was too young to be responsible for a child, but so was Ha Jin. She had been a child when she’d gotten pregnant, just seventeen when the baby was born. She was far too young to be a mother. Y/N couldn’t blame her for not being ready to raise a child, but she could blame her for abandoning Eun Jae.

Eun Jae didn’t know his mother. As far as he was concerned Y/N was his mother. She and Halmeoni were his whole world, his whole family. Her father couldn’t be counted as any sort of parental figure. He couldn’t be counted as one for his own daughters much less for his grandson. She’d heard her grandmother curse on more than one occasion that the gods had given her such a useless son.  Y/N had cursed on more than one occasion that the gods had given her such a useless father. But they had to work with what they were given, and this was the hand that fate had played them.

She had been eight when she’d figured out that both of her parents were useless. She’d been sixteen when she’d gotten her first part time job to help support the family. She’d been nineteen when she’d had to become a mother for her nephew. It was a shitty life, but it was hers.

Despite all the chaos Eun Jae had brought into the world, she wouldn’t trade him for anything. She loved that little boy more than life. He was her little angel, her light, the reason she was willing to sacrifice anything, to sacrifice everything. She may not have birthed him, but he was her son. He was the reason that she was sitting in a chicken place late in the evening a few days after the showcase with Nina. The pair of them were huddled over a phone making a profile on an app called sugarbebe.

“Are you sure about this?” Nina asked as they finalized her profile. “Maybe you could get another job.”

“I’m already working two jobs, along with school and practice, and Eun Jae. I can’t take on anything else.” She shook her head tiredly, glaring down at her phone in distaste. “We need the money.”

“What are you going to tell Halmeoni?” Nina questioned brows furrowed worriedly.

“I’m not going to tell Halmeoni anything. She thinks I’m looking for another job to take the place of orchestra.”

“And she’s okay with that?”

“No.” She laughed recalling the look on her grandmother’s face when she had told her that she was quitting orchestra. “She’s pissed at me. Says I’m wasting my God given talent, and that I’ll end up like my mom and my father and my sister if I’m not careful.”

“Harsh.” The other girl cringed knowing full well just how scary Y/N’s grandmother could be. “I still can’t believe it was your last concert.”

“It was only a showcase. Forget orchestra. Halmeoni said all that, and I haven’t even mentioned the possibility of giving up school to help with the bills.”

Nina’s eyes widened almost comically. “She’s going to kill you.”

“Yeah. I know.” She shuddered thinking of what her grandmother would do to her if she did quit school to help. It would not be a pretty picture. “I think she’d beat me black and blue with her favorite soup ladle.”

“Then let’s hope she doesn’t find out, and let’s hope you find yourself a rich sugar daddy.” Nina raised her glass in a mock toast, and Y/N raised hers as well.

“Here’s hoping.”

They pressed the button submitting her profile on the app. It was too late to back out now. If she was lucky whoever chose her wouldn’t be too old or perverted. With any luck he wouldn’t be ugly either, but that was asking a lot and she didn’t hold that much hope.  She’d be lucky if the guy wasn’t too much of a creep.

They both stared down at the phone in shock as it chimed, the banner announcing that she had a match on sugarbebe. Neither of them had expected anything quite that soon.

“Well, open it! What does it say? Who did you match with?” Nina asked excitedly eyes taking up almost the whole of her face with how wide they were.

She tapped on her phone opening the profile. MYG. No picture. Age twenty-seven. A producer. There wasn’t much information, but there was a message from the man asking to meet in person.

Nina looked over her shoulder frowning as she examined the profile as well. “He doesn’t have much information does he?”

“He wants to meet.”

“When?”

“Friday.” She gulped suddenly filled with nerves. It was all becoming so real. “He’s wants to meet on Friday at D-2.”

They both knew D-2. Every young person in the city knew it. It was the hottest club in Seoul at the moment, made even hotter by the fact it was owned by the king of rap himself, Agust D. To get into D-2 you either had to be rich, famous, or willing to wait in atrociously long lines and tipping the bouncer an outrageous amount of money wouldn’t hurt your chances either.

“D-2?” Nina gasped practically ripping the phone out of her hand to read the message herself. “Are you sure?”

“That’s what it says.”

“Do you have anything to wear?”

It was a good question. She really didn’t have anything that could be considered worthy of a place like D-2. Nothing she owned was really sexy. It was mostly comfy sweaters, jeans, and cute skirts. Things she could wear to school and work and were comfortable enough to chase a toddler around in. None of those would be appropriate for the club. Neither would any of the dresses she used for concerts. And the look on her face clearly conveyed that to Nina.

“You can borrow something of mine.” She assured gently patting her friend’s arm. “Maybe he won’t be so bad?”

“Maybe.” She agreed nervously.

“You can borrow that purple dress of mine. I can lend you some earrings too.” Nina offered sending her a reassuring smile. “At least you know if he’s meeting you at D-2 he’s gotta be rich.”

Y/N smiled back nervously. “I’m just hoping he’s not too much of a creep. Eun Jae is supposed to be with me at the apartment on Friday. Do you think you could babysit? If I ask Halmeoni to keep him at the restaurant she’ll ask questions.”

She had a small apartment close to campus that she stayed at normally. Eun Jae would bounce between the apartment and the family home with Halmeoni. It was good for him to be out of the house and away from her father sometimes, and it allowed her to keep Eun Jae close. She saw him often enough as she worked at Halmeoni’s restaurant, but on the weekends he would stay with her at the apartment. She’d take him back to Halmeoni’s on Sunday evening, and they’d both stay the night. Halmeoni would watch him during the week while she had classes, practice, and work, and Halmeoni lived closer to the preschool they were sending him to. She hated being away from him so much, but it was the best they could do for the moment.

“Of course I’ll watch Jae-ah.” Nina smiled. “You know I love the little guy. I’m his favorite auntie.”

“You’re his only auntie.”

“Technically, you’re his aunt.”

“Well unless Ha Jin suddenly shows up with a maternal instinct, I’m all he’s got in the mom department.”

“Poor kid.” Nina cringed teasingly.

“Hey.”  Y/N shoved her shoulder playfully. “I’m a great mom.”

“You’re okay at it.” The other girl dodged another hit. “I mean, he does have a sugar baby for a mom.”

“First of all, rude. Second, it’s only until we get our heads above water again, and then never again. This will all be a bad memory.”

Nina squeezed her arm sympathetically. “Maybe you’ll actually have a good time.”

“I really don’t think so, but how bad could it be?” It wasn’t going to be forever, and she could put up with anything to help her family, for Eun Jae.  

part 2

[pinkczennie]

Male escort | Johnny (m)

Summary: After getting your heart broken, you hire a male escort to spend Christmas with you.

Pairings: male escort!Johnny x female reader

Genre: fluff, a tiny bit of angst (breakup), smut

Word count: 5k 

Warnings: mature language, explicit sexual content, fingering, protected sex

Notes: I don’t know how escorts work completely so I’m just using my imagination and assuming based on a film I was inspired by. This is my first fic in a while so I hope you guys like it! 

Tag list: @commentgirl​ 

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Great. Just great, you thought to yourself.

Today is December 19, just a few days away from Christmas. You just finished work for the day and you were counting down the days until you get to spend Christmas with your boyfriend.

That was until your boyfriend said he wanted to break up with you.

You felt your heart shattering as he broke the news to you and tears threatening to escape your eyes. Honestly, you should have seen this coming because it explains why he hasn’t been spending much time with you lately and the texts became less frequent but you just assumed he was busy. 

You walked back to your apartment that day feeling completely numb. You couldn’t believe your boyfriend of two years just broke up with you, a few days away from Christmas nonetheless. That evening, you stayed in bed crying your eyes out. Thankfully, your roommate was staying over at her boyfriend's apartment for the night, so you wailed and cried your heart out. You didn’t eat or drink anything at all and you probably would have dehydrated and starved yourself had it not been for the ping coming from your phone, signaling a text message.

You peered at your phone, a piece of you hoping it was your boyfriend messaging you to say that he’s sorry, that he made a mistake, and wanted you back.

Unfortunately, it was just your roommate.

My joy, Sooyoung <3: Hey can you open the door for me pls? I need to grab something real quick from my room but I forgot my keys at jaehyun’s apartment as he was driving me here lol

Wiping your tear-filled eyes, you got up slowly from bed with what little strength you had left and dragged your feet out of your room and to the front door without checking your appearance in the mirror first. 

You arrive at the front door and open it for your roommate to enter. 

“Hey girl, sorry about th-”

When Sooyoung and Jaehyun both got a good look at you, their eyes widened at the sight of your appearance.

There was a crumpled up tissue in your hand, your hair was a mess, and your eyes were red.

“Y/n...are you okay? What’s wrong?”

Her question triggered tears to flow out again. No, you were not okay.

“Lucas, broke up with me,” you said quietly, trying not to have a breakdown in front of the two.

“What?” Sooyoung gasps. “Oh no, y/n...come here.” 

Sooyoung engulfs you in a giant hug and you lean into her body as you silently cry into the tissue in your hands, not wanting to stain her jacket and hair with your tears.

“I’m sorry, y/n,” Jaehyun says as he places his hand on your shoulder. 

“Thanks, Jaehyun,” you croak out.   

“Do you want to talk about it?” Sooyoung asks. 

And that's how all three of you ended up in the living room. You sat on the couch with a bottle of water in your hand, which Soyoung thankfully got for you from the kitchen. Sooyoung sat by your side and Jaehyun sat by her side as you explained to the two about what happened.

“That piece of shit,” Sooyoung mutters, “I’m going to kick him in the balls if I ever see his face.”

Jaehyun rubs comforting circles around the top of Sooyoung’s hand with his thumb, trying to sooth his seething girlfriend. 

“It’s okay, Sooyoung. You don’t have to do that. He was a great boyfriend to me.” You soften as you reminisce about all the good memories you had with him during those two years, which only made your heart hurt more as you remember. 

“I’m just upset at the fact that he broke up with me so close to the holidays even though I had all these plans I made with him already. I bought us two tickets for the Christmas fair, I made prepaid reservations at a fancy restaurant, I even booked a hotel....” Your voice lowers to a whisper as you said that last part. 

“I don’t know what to do now since my flight to visit my parents won’t be until the day after Christmas because I already told them I was going to spend Christmas day with Lucas. All he could say was ‘sorry, but I don’t think I can continue with this relationship any longer’.” 

“I’m sorry, girl,” Sooyoung pats your shoulder. 

“It’s okay,” you sigh. “I guess I’ll just figure out what to do with the ticket and reservations since it looks like I’ll be spending my Christmas day here, eating ice cream and binge watching anime until my flight.” 

You’d offer it to Sooyoung and Jaehyun but you already knew they planned to go to a ski resort during Christmas, so you’ll have to find someone else who would want them.

“Is there maybe some other guy you could possibly go with?” Sooyoung suggests. 

You shake your head. “I’d rather not go with anyone I know just so it doesn’t get awkward and no one gets any strange ideas that I might be interested in them.”

Sooyoung turns to Jaehyun. “Hey, you have some single guy friends, right?”

“Yeah…” Jaehyun hesitantly nods.

“Do you have any guy friends who might be able to go with her? Like...Yuta?”

“He already went back to Japan to visit for the holidays.”

“What about Sicheng?”

“His flight to China is in three days.”

“Mark?”

“Canada.”

“Doyoung?”

“He’s recently been seeing someone.” 

Sooyoung sighs and taps her chin as she thinks of any other possible solution while you internally groan at the thought of having to spend Christmas single AND alone.

“But, if you want,” Jaehyun speaks up after a silent pause, “why don’t you hire a male escort?”

Both you and Sooyoung perk up at Jaehyun’s suggestion. 

“A male escort?” Sooyoung questions.

“Yeah. I knew one of my frat bros from college who hired a female escort. And don’t worry, escorts aren’t just for sex. You can just hire a guy as your fake boyfriend for a day just so you could have some company and your plans don’t have to go to waste. I can even ask him for the website he searched on.”

Sooyoung looks at you. “It’s just a suggestion. You don’t have to do it though.“  

Maybe it was just the loneliness that got to you, but you were honestly considering it. “I’ll keep it in mind.” 

After an hour, you felt bad for holding them up so you decided to end it there. At first, Sooyoung was hesitant to leave you alone, but you insisted because you already felt bad for making them stay for a whole hour listening to you.

“Alright then, we’re leaving now,” Sooyoung said at the door before gently squeezing your arm. “Make sure to eat something, drink some water, and shower before you go to bed tonight. And call me if you need anything, okay?”

“I will.”

And with that, the two left. 

You did as Sooyoung asked. You ate some ramen noodles because you didn’t have the stomach to eat much or cook anything, and finished a bottle of water. Then, you took a nice, warm shower, changed into a comfy pair of pajamas, and went to bed. After the rough day you had, you were able to knock out pretty quickly from exhaustion. 

------

You woke up the next day with swollen eyes, probably from all the crying last night. Instead of getting up, you just laid in bed staring at the ceiling. Your body felt heavy and you lacked any motivation to get up.

After a few minutes, you reached for your phone to check the time and any messages. It was currently 11:16 am. You received a couple of notifications since the last time you checked your phone. 

After looking through all your notifications, you decided to check Instagram. When you clicked on Lucas’s profile, your heart sank when you saw that he had already blocked you. You probably assume he already blocked your phone number and other social media accounts too. 

You were about to cry again at the thought, but then you remembered what Jaehyun said. 

A male escort.

Jaehyun sent you the website link the night before, just in case you wanted to take his suggestion. 

It took you a moment, before you said fuck it. 

You sat up from bed to retrieve your laptop on your desk beside the bed and brought it to your lap. You turned the laptop on and typed in the website link. 

Seekingescorts.com  

There were hundreds of escorts to choose from. Each of the escorts had pictures attached of what they looked like and basic information listed, such as their name, age, height, etc.

Thankfully, there were filters presented for you to narrow down the choices of escorts, such as gender preference, age window, and within a certain distance of your location. After filtering your preferences, the escorts were narrowed down to just seven people. You looked through the profiles of the available seven escorts and the third escort instantly caught your attention. 

 Name: Johnny Suh

Age: 25

Height: 6’0”

He looked extremely attractive in the photos provided, not that the other escorts weren’t attractive, but Johnny just seemed more your type.

After looking through the other escort’s profile, you knew for sure your mind was set on Johnny. You pressed on his profile, filled in the necessary information required, and clicked submit. 

Thank you for your submission. You will receive an email confirmation and a message from the escort you have chosen shortly. 

You did it. You actually hired an escort. 

A couple hours later after going about your day, you receive a text message from an unsaved number.

Hello, this is Johnny Suh. Thank you for hiring me as your escort on December 25 from 1pm to 11pm. I have read through the information you have given me and look forward to spending my time with you. Please let me know where you would like for us to meet and any other information I should know. 

After reading through his message, you reply back to him with the meeting location.  

There wasn’t any other communication sent between you two after that, other than a I’ll see you at 1pm, so you just counted down the days left until you would be spending Christmas with Johnny.

-----

Today is December 25. 

You looked at your phone. It was currently 12:58pm, two minutes before the time you were supposed to meet Johnny. 

You had a light layer of makeup on and dressed as nice and warm as possible because it was pretty cold today. Your heart pounded from nervousness as you thought of all the possible scenarios as to how the day will unfold while making your way to the designated meeting point that you and Johnny agreed on. Once you arrived, you stood there and stared at the people passing by as you waited for Johnny to arrive. 

As you stared at the people passing by, you suddenly began to hesitate, feeling dumb for hiring a male escort to pretend to be your boyfriend so you can spend your plans with someone that were originally supposed to be spent with your now ex-boyfriend.

What am I doing? You thought to yourself. This is stupid, I can’t believe I’m doing this. This was such a selfish and impulsive decision just because I didn’t want to be alone on Christmas. I should have just stayed home, not go out with some male escort I don’t even-

“Y/n?” 

You turn around at the mention of your name. 

Whoa. 

You stare up at the man that just called your name and you were absolutely speechless. 

Johnny looked just like in his photos, maybe even better in person. He could even pass off as a model. His hair was nicely styled and he was dressed in a long, beige coat, and black jeans. He was tall, had a sharp jawline, and the most mesmerizing eyes that you were slowly getting lost in. There were no words to describe this man other than absolutely stunning. 

“Are you y/n l/n?” Johnny asks, snapping you back into reality.

“Y-yes,” you stutter. 

“Hi, I’m Johnny.” He extends his hand out for you to shake with a gentle smile on his face. “It’s nice to meet you.”

“Nice to meet you too.” You shake his hand. 

“You look really pretty today, y/n.”

You blush at the compliment. “Thank you. You look really good too.”

“Thanks,” he smiles. “Are you excited for today?” 

“Yeah. A little nervous as well,” you honestly confess. “I’ve never hired an escort before so I don’t know what I’m supposed to do.”

“Whatever you want to do, just let me know and I will happily do so. Also, if anything I do makes you feel uncomfortable, tell me and I will stop. My goal for today is to be the best boyfriend for you. Alright?” 

You nod, feeling a little less nervous at how easygoing he seems.

“What are we doing first today, my love?” he asks before taking one of your hands in his and presses a kiss to the top of your hands.

You swoon at his gesture before quickly pulling out the two tickets to the fair from your pocket and presenting it to him. 

Johnny looks at the pieces of paper in your hands. “The Christmas fair first? Alrighty then, let’s go!” 

And thus your day began with Johnny at the fair. You two played games, rode on the rides, and ate fried food together. For hours, it was just filled with fun and laughter. 

There were quite a few people, so Johnny would hold your hand to keep you by his side whenever you two would walk by a large crowd, making sure no one strays away from each other. 

For a second, it didn’t even feel like you were with an escort because Johnny was such a natural at playing the boyfriend role that there was never an awkward moment with him. It genuinely seemed like you two were just a couple going on a date to anybody looking. 

If Johnny was made of something, it would be boyfriend material. He was handsome, treated you like a princess, and a great conversationalist so there was never any awkward silence.

At around 5:30pm, it was time to leave the fair because you had a prepaid dinner reservation at 6pm. 

The restaurant was dimly lit and there was a pianist softly playing classical music at the back.

A waiter from the restaurant arrived to escort you both to your reserved table in the middle of the room. The table was surrounded by lit candles, roses, expensive silverware, and a bottle of wine. 

Johnny, like the gentleman he is, pulls your chair out for you to sit and pushes the chair back to the table after you sit down before he takes his seat. The waiter opens the wine bottle and pours both of you a drink. You both clink glasses and enjoy your meals while chatting throughout the dinner.

After dinner, the fancy restaurant was in the same building as the hotel you booked, so you checked in and then headed to the elevators up eight stories to your hotel room.

You both look around the nice hotel room in awe. There was a nice view of the city lights by the window, a single king-sized bed, and a large bathroom by the door.

There were a basket of flowers and a card that sat on the table. You went over to read the card and your heart clenches.

Welcome to the SME Hotel, y/n and Lucas. 

You forgot to call the hotel ahead of time to get his name removed or changed. 

You were so distracted by the card that you didn’t even notice Johnny looking over your shoulder, peering at the card in your hand that has your attention. He reads the card and notices the male name, ‘Lucas’, written after yours. Then, Johnny looks at you and notices your sad eyes.

Johnny walks in front of you and gently cups your face, grabbing your attention as he brings your face up to look at him.

“Is something wrong, my love?” he asks.

You look away from his gaze with a shake of your head. “Nothing’s wrong."

“Are you sure? Because you looked really upset reading that card. You can tell me if anything’s wrong.”

You stay quiet for a moment before you release a sigh.

“I was supposed to spend Christmas with my boyfriend. Well...ex-boyfriend now,” you explain. “He broke up with me a few days ago, even though we had all these plans together. I guess I just got a little upset when I saw his name on this card because I’m suddenly reminded that we’re no longer together.”

Johnny softens at your story and strokes your cheeks with his thumbs. “I’m sorry he did that to you. I know it hurts right now, but just know that the pain will slowly go away with time, and you will find someone new again.”

You nod with a sad smile. 

“But for today, you’re mine. So I don’t want you to be thinking about another man in front of me or I’ll get jealous.” 

You know Johnny is just playing the character of your boyfriend, but you couldn’t help but feel your heart skip a beat at his words. 

He takes the welcome card from your hand and places it back, face down, on the table.

“Come here.” He brings you into his warm embrace. You softly smile at his comforting gesture and hug him back.  

You both just stand there while hugging each other until an idea suddenly pops up into his head. “Hey, let’s get your mind off of him for a moment.” 

You look up at him with a raised eyebrow and tilt your head to the side at his words. 

Then, Johnny takes out his phone and clicks on the Spotify app. Suddenly, Taylor Swift featuring Shawn Mendes’s Lover plays. He turns the volume up to the highest setting before placing his phone on the table. Then, he turns to you and brings his hands out.

“Dance with me.” 

You stare at him for a second before looking down at his extended hands and slowly take his hands. 

We could leave the Christmas lights up ‘til January. This is our place we make the rules.

The dance began playful, filled with giggles and laughter as Johnny spun you around, doing elegant twirls. 

Can I go where you go? Can we always be this close? Forever and ever. 

As the song progresses, Johnny brings your head to rest against his head and you melt into his body. His arms wrap around your back and your arms wrap around him. You both close your eyes and silently listen to the song while your bodies slowly sway to the music.

See I finally got you now, honey. I won’t let you fall.

There was nothing on your mind right now except Johnny and the feeling of his body against yours and the steady beating of his heart against his chest. 

Oh, you’re my, my, my, my. Darling, you’re my, my, my, my lover. 

The music ends. 

You remove yourself from Johnny’s body to look up at him who was already staring down at you with a tender gaze. For a moment, you were both just lost in each other's eyes. Slowly, your eyes went from his eyes to his lips. 

You gulp. The longer you stared, the more you thought about leaning in to kiss his plump lips. Is it wrong to have such a strong desire to kiss another man a few days after getting dumped? 

“What are you thinking about right now?” he asks, his voice one octave lower, making you feel some type of way. 

“How much I want to kiss you,” you confess. You don’t know where this newfound confidence to say that sentence out loud came from, but knowing that you probably won’t be getting another opportunity like this any time soon, you threw all care out the window. 

Johnny leans in dangerously close with a smirk on his face. “Then do it.”

No one knows who leaned in first, but the next thing you know is that you’re both kissing each other. 

The kiss starts off gentle, like two lovers kissing each other for the first time again. Then, the kiss became more intense as Johnny’s arms wrap around your waist to pull you closer into his body and your arms cling onto Johnny’s shoulders.

Eventually, you both part ways to gasp for air without letting go of each other. You look up at Johnny with eyes full of lust and his eyes are just as dark as yours. The sexual tension was lingering in the air and you couldn’t take it anymore. You feel wetness pool in your underwear that you could no longer ignore and you desperately want him to do something about it.

“Johnny…” you breath out.

“Do you want to…” He didn’t finish his sentence but you already know where this is going.

“Are you sure? You’re not obligated to just because you’re-”

“You’re not forcing me to do anything. I want to do this,” he states. “Do you?”

You search his eyes for a bit before you reply, “Yes. I want you too.”

The verbal consent was enough for him to dive back in for another kiss. You wrap your arms around Johnny’s neck as you feel him lift you up with his arms and make his way over to the bed where he gently places you on your back without breaking the kiss. 

You shiver as Johnny stops kissing you and begins sucking open mouth kisses on your neck, but not leaving any marks in case you didn’t want any visible hickies on your skin.

He removes all your clothes, so you were completely bare in front of him. You become shy as Johnny’s large figure looms over you, his hungry eyes raking over your exposed body while he’s still fully clothed.

Johnny brings his face right in front of your chest and cups your soft mounds. A moan escapes your lips as he suddenly takes one of your erect nipples into his mouth and pinches the other one in between his fingers. As he continues to suck on your bud, you feel something poking your thigh, so your hand palms his erection and he shudders at the contact.

After a while, he removes himself from your breasts and starts taking his clothes off but keeps his pants on. 

You couldn’t help but stare at the sight in front of you because Johnny was built like a Greek god, sculpted by the finest artists. 

“Like what you see?” he smirks.

You nod. You weren’t even going to deny it and he chuckles at your honesty.

He brings two of his fingers to your awaiting entrance and you shudder.

“God, you’re fucking soaked,” he whispers into your ears. His sultry voice and fingers rubbing against your folds just made you even more wet.

He slowly pushes his two fingers inside of you and you bite back a moan. Oh god. 

“Let me hear you,” he says as he nibbles on your earlobe. “I want to know that I make you feel good.”

Johnny slowly thrusts his digits in and out of you as you release your moans that you could no longer hold in for him to hear. 

Once he thought that you were ready, he added a third finger and you grip the bedsheet from the additional intrusion.  

“Johnny,” you gasp as he brushes against your walls and hits that one spot that causes your body to arch against the bed.

“Right there,” you chant so he continues to rub against that spot.

You could already feel your orgasm starting to approach as your breathing becomes harsh and your wall clenches around his fingers as the pleasure continues to build up in your body.

You usually last longer than this, but something about doing this with Johnny, a somewhat stranger to you, an attractive stranger might you add, made it so much more thrilling. 

“I’m going to cum,” you warn him.

“Go ahead. Cum for me.” 

After a few more thrusts, you cry out in bliss and release all over his fingers. You pant heavily as you quickly try to recover, knowing that there was more to come. 

As you try to recover, Johnny finally removes his pants and boxers, allowing his cock to spring forward. You look down and your eyes widen at the sight of his erection. Holy shit, he’s huge. 

As you continue to stare, he reaches for the condom in the bedside table drawer he found while looking around the room earlier and rips the plastic open. 

He was able to get hard from kissing and fingering you, so he easily puts the condom onto his dick without any additional stimulation and positions his length in front of your entrance.

“Are you ready?” he asks.

Your heart was pounding, wondering if he’ll even fit inside of you. But regardless, you still nod. 

Johnny slowly enters you and you gasp at the pain and the pleasure. It felt like he was ripping you in half, even after being stretched open with three fingers.

“Shit, you’re still tight,” he hisses as he continues to enter you.

“Too big,” you whimper as your nails dig into the mattress. 

“I’ll go slow.” He kisses your forehead to distract you from the pain and continues to slowly enter you, just as promised. Once he is fully inside you, he waits patiently for you to adjust to his size. “Let me know when I can move.”

After adjusting to his size, you tell Johnny that he can move. 

He begins his thrusts slow just in case it was still too much for you. He was so gentle with you as if you were going to break. You were still slightly overstimulated from being fingered earlier, but you didn’t care and allowed Johnny to thrust inside you. 

"Faster,” you plead and he does as you request. You moan his name, along with a string of curses, as he begins to pick up the pace. 

The room was filled with nothing but the sounds of loud panting, skin slapping against skin, and the bed creaking as Johnny pounds into you. Hopefully, the hotel walls are thick because the people staying in the rooms next door or even passing by would surely be able to hear everything.

It didn’t take long for your second orgasm to approach again and he could feel it too as your walls clench around his length. 

“I’m going to cum again,” you announce.

“Fuck, me too. You feel so good, baby.” Johnny begins to groan and his thrusts become less accurate, signaling that he was close too.

Your toes curl and your back is arching off the bed as you come around his cock. With one last thrust, he groans and releases his seeds into the condom. 

Both of you just stay in your current positions, chest heaving as you both try to come down from your highs. After a minute, Johnny slowly pulls himself out of you and gets up from the bed to make his way to the bathroom. He removes the cum filled condom, ties it up, and tosses it into the trash can. Then, he returns to the bed and plants a kiss on your cheek before wrapping his arms around your body in a warm embrace. 

For the remainder of the time left, you and Johnny just cuddled naked under the blanket until your time with him was up. 

“What did you think of everything?” Johnny asks.

“Are you referring to the date or the sex?” You tease.

Johnny laughs, “The date, you pervert. But yes, I’d like to know how the sex was too.”

Seeing his laughing face brought a satisfied smile to your lips. “I had a really good time today. And the sex? Wow.” 

“I’m glad.” Johnny returns a smile and he brushes a stray hair of yours away from your face. “I had a good time today too.” 

There was a comforting silence before you hesitantly ask, “Do you do it with all your clients?” 

“Not all of them. We have the right to say no,” he replies. “And don’t worry, I always do it protected and get tested regularly just in case.”

A few minutes before 11pm, you both start putting your clothes back on because it was almost time for Johnny’s departure. You were quite sad the day is already over, but today has been such an eventful day. 

Even though you knew Johnny was just a male escort only meant to comfort you by spending the day with you so you wouldn't be alone during Christmas, you were going to feel empty once again. But you were still happy nonetheless. Johnny made you feel so loved, even if it was just temporary. You were so glad to have met Johnny because this will be a Christmas worth remembering for sure. 

You walk him to the door once 11pm hits. 

“Thank you for today, Johnny,” you smile up at him. 

He returns the smile back, “It was my pleasure.” 

Johnny leans down and presses a gentle kiss on your forehead. You just couldn’t get enough of his kisses. 

“Goodnight, y/n. Merry Christmas.”

“Goodnight, Johnny. Merry Christmas.”

And with that, he turns around and walks away from your hotel room and heads to the elevator. You wait until you are no longer able to see Johnny before retreating back into your room and shutting the door behind you.

A loud sigh escapes your lips as you stare at the empty hotel room as memories of your day with Johnny flooded your mind. This day didn’t turn out like you expected it to, but it was way better than what you could have hoped for. 

You were definitely going to have to thank Jaehyun later. 

The loneliness begins to settle in again, so you grab your phone from the bedside table and begin to type a text message to someone, then hit send. 

You: Can I see you again on New Years? 

[princessphilly]

Hockey Fic Exchange: Second Chance in Chicago

This is for the @hockeynetwork​ winter gift exchange. I was matched with my friend, @texanstarslove​ and it was relatively easy to give her what she wanted. 

Title: Second Chance in Chicago

Player: Jonathan Toews

Genre: Angst, smut

Word count: 6410 words

 March 2007

“Wouldja look at that? There’s the future NHL star, looking like the dork he is.”

Lizzie stuck out her tongue as Rachel announced the presence of the asshole himself, Jonathan Toews. They were all sophomores at UND but he had gotten drafted third overall by the Chicago Blackhawks last year. Hockey ruled UND so the team already had a high profile. But this year’s team looked like it would do some damage in the tournament so all eyes were really on them.

Tonight, Lizzie and her friends had decided to go to a frat party at the Beta house. It was a cold early March Thursday night but she had been in the mood to party. Unfortunately, the party had been invaded by the hockey team.

Jonathan grinned, his deep brown eyes sparkling like he had already pregamed. “Hey ladies,” he greeted before grabbing Lizzie and giving her a hug.

“Ew!”

Lizzie pushed Jonathan away. He definitely had pregamed, he smelled like good old Vladimir vodka. He was going to have a fucking hangover tomorrow.

Jonathan pouted. “I thought we were friends, Lizzie,” he exclaimed as he wrapped his arms around Lizzie again

“When did you think that?”

Rachel and Bethany snickered. It was a bit of a running joke, this animosity between Lizzie and Tazer. No one quite knew how it really started except it had been a freshman year hook up that ended bad. At least, that was the rumor. Ever since, Lizzie couldn’t stand Jonathan and Jonathan did every thing possible to needle her.

Lizzie flipped her hair over her shoulder before elbowing Jonathan in the ribs. Giving him an angelic smile, she ordered, “Don’t touch me.”

Being the drunken asshole he was at the moment, Jonathan leaned down and murmured in her ear, “You didn’t say that last weekend.”

“Ugh!”

Lizzie pushed Jonathan away before stomping towards the keg. Jonathan shrugged as TJ and some of the other hockey players came in. She was able to avoid him for the rest of the night and even flirted with a couple of junior guys she hadn’t met. Of course, as soon as she went to get a breather from the hot party, Jonathan was already outside.

Shivering, Lizzie huddled close to the door, planning to ignore Toews. There had been a snowstorm the other day and there was a good ten inches of snow on the ground.  

“Supposed to snow again tomorrow.”

Lizzie let out a loud sigh. Of course, he couldn’t respect her silent plea to be left alone. “This is North Dakota. It’s always snowing.”

Turning to her left, Lizzie looked at Jonathan. For once, he didn’t have his cocky, self-assured, ‘I’m the one in complete charge’ look on his face. He looked slightly pensive and a bit unsure. “Here, have my hoodie.”

“I don’t-,” Lizzie started to say but she relented as Jonathan put his hoodie over her head, pulling it down. She was cold as fuck, shivering in just a short-sleeved shirt and her jeans. “Thank you,” she murmured.

“You’re welcome.”

They stood there for several moments, breath turning into puffs of icicles before Jonathan finally broke the ice. “Ridley, really?”

“Oh, you know him?” Lizzie tensed, UND wasn’t as big as other schools but she could at least have found someone that Jonathan didn’t already know. But then, hockey ruled here and he knew more people than her so yeah, just her fucking luck.

“He’s cool.” Jonathan shrugged, suddenly feeling nervous as fuck. It really wasn’t his area to talk, he didn’t really want to be a cock-block, but fuck it. “He’s not an asshole or anything. But we both know that’s not who you really want.”

“Oh really? Who told you what I really want?”

He hadn’t really planned to do it now; Jonathan had planned to go for it next month. But he already had told coach and his teammates that he was going pro after this season, so he might as well do it. “We have unfinished business, Elizabeth.”

Lizzie froze at Jonathan’s use of her full name.  He was the only one here at UND who ever used her full name. It brought back memories, those first weeks of spring semester of freshman year. Memories of doing things that would have had Momma reaching for her rosary and Papa yanking her out of UND to go into a convent. She bit out, “No, we don’t.”

“So, that’s why you called me last Saturday, asking me to come over after the game?”

Lizzie rolled her eyes. “I was drunk,” she very primly replied, staring at her nails. She thought to herself, ‘I need a manicure.’

“Then last weekend, you came over and you definitely weren’t drunk.”

Lizzie shrugged, pretending she didn’t hear what Jonathan said. She didn’t want to admit the truth; Jonathan made her nervous. She was 19 and every time she was with him, she felt like this could be something that could be forever. But Lizzie had plans; she was planning to go east for law school, get out of North Dakota forever. This wasn’t the time to even think of settling down with anyone, especially not with Jonathan since he was going pro. Even though, her traitorous pussy reminded her, Jonathan made her cum better than anyone else and wasn’t scared to choke, bite, or spank her unlike other guys.

Jonathan growled, of course Lizzie would be acting obtuse. He wasn’t looking to settle down or anything serious, he was just about to turn 19 and about to go to Chicago in five and a half months to start his pro career. Jonathan did really like Lizzie a lot and wouldn’t be against putting a label on what was going on. Then, Lizzie got cold feet last year and had been stringing him along for over a year. It would be nice if Lizzie actually admitted that they had something going instead of being nasty to his face but fucking with him late at night.

“Okay, since you don’t want to face reality, I’m just going to say it. It’s not fair that you like to treat me like shit in public but you want me to fuck you when no one is looking.”

Lizzie opened her mouth before closing it. From the tone of voice that Jonathan had used, it sounded harsh. Like she was using him like a whore. But Jonathan wasn’t done.

“Don’t worry about my hoodie, I’ll get it before I leave.”

Jonathan turned around and went back inside of the party. Lizzie stayed outside for several more minutes, pensive. Then she harrumphed and rejoined the party, resolute that she was going to ignore Jonathan once she gave him his hoodie back.

**

Twelve years later

Lizzie brushed her ginger hair over her shoulder. It was weird to be ginger for the first time since she was fifteen. The past years, she had been a very faithful blonde but it was time to do something very different.

“Not bad for a rancher’s daughter.”

Lizzie twirled in her full-length mirror, admiring the way the navy-blue dress fit her body, accessorized with her diamond hoop earrings, tennis bracelet, class ring, and the brand-new patent leather heels she had managed to score on clearance at Neiman Marcus. Very much the uniform of an intellectual property litigator who had just made partner, not the yee-haw who had went to UND. But right now, as she thought about tonight, Lizzie felt like the yee-haw she tried to suppress.

Tonight, there was a fundraising cocktail hour for her firm, Bradley, Lewis, and Cooper. This would be the first one that Lizzie attended since she transferred to the Chicago office from Atlanta. She was good at gladhanding and charming people, attending Penn Law had sucked the yee-haw from Lizzie’s accent. Now, she was Elizabeth Romanelli, ready to make connections while raising funds for the Children’s Miracle Network.

Only fly in the ointment was that this fundraiser was being held at the United Center. Not only that, it was rumored that the firm was able to get a couple of players for the Blackhawks to appear. Bradley, Lewis, and Cooper did some work for the Blackhawks, mainly with local TV contracts and sponsorships. Lizzie took in a deep fortifying breath. “It has been years,’ she told herself. “There’s no need to be nervous seeing Jon again.”

She turned around and grabbed her coat. It was mid fall but the temperature dropped enough at night that Lizzie wanted to wear her coat just in case. Before she left, she looked at her left ring finger. Taking a deep breath, she slid her old wedding ring off her finger. It was a new start, time to act like it.

**

The fundraiser went pretty well, in Lizzie’s eyes. It was her first firm social event in Chicago so most of it was spent shaking hands, exchanging business cards, and talking some shop. There were a couple of Blackhawks players there, none of that Lizzie recognized. She admitted several times while in conversation, that she was more of a college hockey than pro hockey fan.

Then, the one person she was hoping wouldn’t show up, showed up. Lizzie worked hard not to check Jonathan out but he had the kind of presence that commanded attention. His hair was cut short and the once lanky frame had filled out completely. Lizzie smirked when she saw one of her fellow attendees lick her lips but she couldn’t blame her. Jonathan looked delicious in a black suit with a pristine white shirt, no tie. He looked like casual, dominant elegance in a hockey player package as he made his rounds the room.

“You’re lucky that your department doesn’t work with the Blackhawks on anything,” said the woman who licked her lips. Lizzie looked down and looked at her name tag, it said ‘Elise’.

“Oh why?”

Lizzie took a sip of her pinot grigio, waiting for a reply. Elise didn’t disappoint as she whispered, “He’s single and my law school loans say he would be perfect for them.”

She couldn’t resist laughing at that statement; Lizzie totally understood where Elise was coming from. But as soon as her laughter faded, there was Jonathan Toews, right in front of them. Elise looked up at him, obviously starstruck. Lizzie put her best courtroom face as she stuck out her hand. “Hello, I’m Elizabeth Romanelli. You are?”

Jonathan blinked when Lizzie introduced herself as Elizabeth Romanelli. She was Lizzie MacArthur in the flesh, all these years later. Grasping her hand, Jonathan said, “Jonathan Toews, but you know who I am.”

Jonathan kept his best PR smile on his face as he processed his thoughts. This was Lizzie, the only one who got away. She was a redhead now, not a blonde, but those green eyes were still the same. Deep green eyes that always brimmed with an intelligence that had made Jon feel like he was an idiot when they first met at UND.

“Oh, how do you two know each other?”

Lizzie managed to keep her expression completely neutral while Jon reddened a bit. He dropped her hand as he said, “We went to college together.”

“Where was that,” Elise innocently asked and Lizzie wasn’t sure if she was truly curious or if she was being a bit catty.

“I went to University of North Dakota with Mr. Toews for undergrad,” Lizzie said. “Then I did Penn Law.”

Elise replied, “Oh. I remember reading that once.”

Lizzie refused to roll her eyes as Jon made small talk about the hockey season with Elise. Spotting a waiter, Elise raised her hand for another glass of wine. Tonight, was looking like it was about to be long. Before she could make her escape, Elise exclaimed, “Oh, there’s Mr. Schmidt, I need to talk to him! It was so nice to meet you and talk to you, Mr. Toews, Ms. Romanelli.”

Lizzie sighed as she scampered away, leaving her alone with Jonathan.

“Long time, no see,” Jonathan said, taking a sip of his water. Tomorrow was a game night and while he enjoyed drinking, he had no interest in doing anything that would keep him out of peak performance. But looking at Lizzie, he wished he had something stronger. The years had done her good; she looked curvier, stronger, hotter. He felt his pants tighten and Jonathan thought of his smelly hockey gear to deflate his hard on.

Lizzie stroked the curve of her new wine glass before replying, “I know. Wasn’t necessarily planned.”

“Romanelli?”

“I was married,” Lizzie’s smile tightened.

Jonathan quickly replied, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to ask anything that would make you feel- “

“It’s okay, let’s not go there, okay. Before you ask, I’m a widow.” Lizzie looked down at her wine. It had been long enough that she knew she wouldn’t break down but it was awkward to talk about it with her first college hookup/almost boyfriend. After all these years, Jonathan still had an affect on her. She felt a bit lightheaded but her once dormant libido had flared up as soon as they shook hands. It was as if her body had decided that someone worthy was nearby and it was time.

“I’m sorry,” Jonathan repeated, his voice low as he ran his fingers through his short hair. It was a bit overwhelming seeing Lizzie again but he was already damn sure that he needed to see her again. As they exchanged pleasantries, Jon moved on to another group at the fundraiser. But every now and then, he made sure to catch her in the crowd.

At the end of the night, he was finally able to get Lizzie alone, again. “Now that you’re in Chicago, why don’t we go out? As old friends?”

Lizzie laughed as she waited for her coat. “We weren’t old friends and you know it.”

“But who said that we can’t be at least friends now?”

Jonathan gave Lizzie a big smile while she scoffed, “I can tell by the way you’ve been looking at me all night that you aren’t interested in being just friends.”

“How was I looking at you?”

Jonathan leaned into Lizzie as he noticed that Seabs was nearby. While he loved Seabs as a brother, he didn’t want him to have any idea of what he was planning, yet.

Lizzie batted her lashes at Jonathan before replying, “Like you never seen a woman before. I have to keep the conversation business casual but we both know what I’d really like to say.”

“Then, you should let me have your phone number.”

“Smooth, Toews,” Lizzie commented. “Very smooth.”

“I try.”

Jonathan couldn’t help himself; as Lizzie received her coat from the coat check, he helped her put it on.

“Wow, I don’t know if you’re actually a gentleman now or if you’re trying to get points,” Lizzie quipped.

Jonathan gave her an aw-shucks grin and a shrug. Despite her better judgment, Lizzie figured that it couldn’t hurt. She didn’t really know anyone yet in Chicago and it would be nice to talk to someone who she at least knew from college. But she didn’t want to openly give it to Jonathan so she took the moment to turn and grab paper and a pen from a table. Writing her number and snap down, she slid it into Jonathan’s pocket.

“There, now you can never say I never gave you anything.”

Lizzie turned and sauntered away. Jonathan fished through his pockets and grabbed the paper, grinning and laughing to himself.

**

Lizzie had to give Jonathan credit. He knew how to attempt to get a woman’s attention. The flowers were a nice touch; not too ostentatious and he was smart enough not to attach his name to them. But Lizzie knew exactly who they were from because there were exactly nineteen pink and nineteen white roses in Monday’s bouquet. Yesterday’s bouquet was a set of nineteen purple flowers that after she looked them up, Lizzie found out that they were purple columbine. Today’s bouquet involved nineteen white camelias and nineteen red chrysanthemums.

“This guy must really like you.”

Lizzie turned around to see Peter, her paralegal. He was pointing at the flowers, a pensive look on his face.

“Really? He just wants my attention.” Lizzie dismissively waved towards the flowers but inwardly, she was loving it.

Peter raised an eyebrow. “Okay, whatever you say. Anyway, I have five messages from the managing partners.”

“I already know what they want and I already reviewed the files and sent them to Kristin, Jacques, and Malik. They are working on the briefs for the arbitration and they should all be done by the end of the work day. I will prep my own opening argument myself for the hearing when we are done talking. You can quote everything I just said in your email,” Lizzie stated with a smile on her face. This was her first arbitration hearing at the Chicago office with her new associates working under her. But she knew it would go well.

“But the flowers. I’d look them up, Ms. Romanelli. He’s sending you a message with each bouquet. Especially that first one with those kind of pink roses, maiden blush roses? Oh, he’s definitely telling you something.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever.”

Lizzie brushed Peter off, her mind already back on work. However, she messaged Jon later, I like jasmine, lily of the valley, the most.

The next day, there was a bouquet with yellow jasmine, lily of the valley, and red pink flowers, the number adding to 19 and a note, looking forward to seeing you tonight.

**

Lizzie was still a mystery and Jonathan was desperate to figure her out. This was their sixth date and every time he felt like he was getting closer to her, Lizzie pulled back. Jon understood but at the same time, he was getting annoyed. He was also horny as fuck and trying very hard not to let his cock dictate his actions.

Tonight, Lizzie wore a little black dress with strappy heels to dinner and all Jonathan could think of was having Lizzie wear those heels while he fucked her hard and fast. It took all his willpower to keep the conversation light during dinner as his traitorous brain filled with all kinds of dirty images. Now, they were having post dinner drinks at a place Kaner had suggested. It was very intimate, the kind of place for seduction. Unfortunately, Jonathan thought, there would probably be no seduction tonight as he stood on the wall with Lizzie.

“I intentionally wore these for you.”

Lizzie fluttered her eyelashes at Jon’s dumbfounded expression. She wasn’t dumb; she knew exactly the kind of affect she had on men. Lizzie had to give Jonathan credit; he was doing a good job of not being a stupid hornball.

“I love them,” Jonathan drawled before taking a sip of his whiskey on the rocks. He told himself to be patient, as they continued to talk but after another half-hour talking about football, Jon finally broached the subject. “Are you seeing anyone?”

“Are you,” Lizzie countered. She went out on a couple of dates with a couple of different guys when the Blackhawks were out of town because, in her mind, she was still a free agent. Doing that actually made Lizzie feel more comfortable with going out with Jonathan. Not that the other dates were bad but Lizzie had to admit to herself that there was still something more with Jonathan.

“No,” Jonathan admitted. His DMs were full on all social media so he could go out with anyone he wanted if he truly felt like it. But right now, he really was just interested in Lizzie.

“That’s nice.”

Lizzie twirled the straw in her cocktail. Jonathan thought about what to say but ended up blurting out, “I still think about some of the things we did.”

“Woooooooow.”

Blushing, Lizzie bit her lip. Some of those memories had come back since she had seen Jonathan again. Some of those things that had seemed extra sinful at eighteen and nineteen were mainstream these days. Plus, Greg had tried but he didn’t have that same aura that teenage Jonathan had. Adult Jonathan had that dominant aura in spades and it was tempting.

Lizzie added, “And?”

Jonathan moved closer to Lizzie, his big body bracketing hers, his monotone voice even deeper, “You remember when I tied you up the first time?”

“That was…. interesting,“ Lizzie replied. She felt flushed, that memory now in her brain. They had been fumbling around and Jonathan had tied her up before making her beg and scream his name. But the knot had got stuck and after he cut her out, Lizzie had chafed skin on both of her wrists. “It was an interesting experiment.”

Jonathan licked his lips. He noticed that Lizzie was flushed, her body leaning towards his. It was almost heady, the tension, he could taste it. So, he decided to press into the attack.

“We’ve both grown up now. I mean, I know what I love to do in the bedroom and I’m not a teen boy fumbling around.”

Lizzie resisted the urge to roll her eyes at Jonathan’s pronouncement. Steeling her face so that she looked impassive, inwardly she was freaking out a bit. Jonathan had been pretty good fuck in college, better than the rest of her boyfriends before she married Greg. But this Jonathan, three times Stanley Cup winner and hockey superstar Jonathan, he seemed lethal.

And he knew it as he gave Lizzie a little smirk and a wink.

“Don’t worry Lizzie, no one is going to judge you now if you like a little pain. I definitely won’t. You know I liked giving it to you when we were experimenting.”

Exasperated, Lizzie exclaimed, “You’re still so arrogant! I seriously doubt you’d have a chance to fuck me again.”

Jonathan moved closer and Lizzie backed up, backing into the wall. Jonathan got close enough that Lizzie could smell his expensive cologne but far enough that she could easily move away if she wanted to.

“I don’t know why you’re still lying to yourself all these years later,” Jonathan murmured, his dark brown eyes looking black. “But I’m patient, I can still wait. You still want me and I’ve always wanted you.”

Lizzie bit her lip and Jonathan resisted the urge to groan. He had thought that he had forgotten her but just meeting her again two months ago had brought back those old feelings. Now, he was getting tired of playing cat and mouse but from what he had learned from TJ and Ridley, Jonathan was trying to be careful and tactical with his advances. He at least managed to get her to go out with him. His cock could wait.

Of course, after telling himself that, images from a decade ago filled his head. Ignoring them, Jonathan instead taunted, “Nothing to say? I never thought lawyers could be rendered speechless.”

Instead of replying, Lizzie reached out and touched Jonathan’s sweater. It was super soft and felt like it was made from the finest cashmere. She finally replied, voice low and soft, “Why am I so attracted to you? This shouldn’t really be happening.”

“Fate.”

It was a very simple reply as Jonathan grabbed her hand and brought it up to his lips. He kissed her hand, just a brief touch of closed lips to skin. But it felt like electricity coursed through both of them. Jonathan recovered first before giving Lizzie a devilish smile. “Night, night Elizabeth.”

***

“He’s way too smooth.”

Lizzie took in a deep breath as she watched the first snowfall of the year through her office window. Rachel’s laughter at her complaint registered super loud over her ear pod.

Rachel commented, “Of course he is, he’s had over a decade of practice. I can’t believe he’s still interested; I think Jon has dated models and he could date anyone. You’re lucky as hell, Lizzie.”

Lizzie pouted as she moved away from the window. “I don’t know if I want to be lucky.”

“Well, I remember all of the sneaking around you’d did when we were in college. You had no problems fucking him in private.”

“RACHEL!! Oh, my Gawd, you knew that?!?”

Lizzie put her hand on her forehead, mortified. She thought she had been cautious.

Rachel chuckled before continuing, “No one else figured it out. But it was obvious that sparks were flying. And then Jon goes pro and you end up dating around until you met Greg. But you never were as happy as you were freshman spring.”

Lizzie sighed, feeling a headache beginning to start. “Greg, you know I loved Greg.”

“I know honey, if you hadn’t, I would have seriously considered stopping the wedding,” Rachel consoled. “And he did help you escape the ranch and your parents’ plans.”

“I’ve been a widow for 3 years and this is the first time I’ve been attracted to a man,” Lizzie blurted out. Her cheeks reddened as she realized her admission.

There was an extended pause before Rachel finally replied. “Then you should go for it. Greg wouldn’t want you to give up on sex because he’s gone.”

Lizzie flipped through the messages on her work phone as she pondered Rachel’s words.

“I gotta go, Alyssa is about done with school and the baby should be up any minute. Stop thinking and just fuck him. Just remember to put color corrector and concealer over any marks Jonny leaves on you.”

Lizzie exclaimed, “Rachel,” but she had already hung up. Checking her personal phone for messages, Lizzie grinned when she saw she had a snap from Jon. Opening the snap, she saw a photo of Jon signing jerseys and picks with a note of can’t wait to give you one.

Lizzie responded; too bad I’ll be too busy to get one for the next couple of weeks

Lizzie put her phone down, ready to focus on her work before getting a new message from Jon. I told u I can be patient.

**

Lizzie looked down at her list of pros and cons. All the pros were reasons why she should fuck Jonathan: get rid of all the unresolved tension from college, he’s an already proven great fuck, probably the best guy to be her first fuck since Greg passed away. The cons were that he was Jonathan Toews, he was famous, and he did have the ability to be an asshole. Her skeptical side told Lizzie that she probably couldn’t keep it casual but the other side was like, was that a bad thing?

Shaking her head, Lizzie pulled on a pair of jeans before putting on a sweater. The Blackhawks were back in town and last night, she went to the game courtesy of Jonathan. Lizzie had taken Elise with her and they enjoyed the Blackhawks winning against the Flames. It was actually fun as Lizzie explained some of the finer points of hockey, such as power plays, penalty kills, offsides, and the fact that all refs in all sports were absolutely awful. Tonight, she actually told Jon she would come over after they saw a movie.

Lizzie was curious about where Jonathan lived. She knew it was in an area called Lincoln Park; she lived in the outskirts of the North Side. Her student loans from law school demanded payment so Lizzie moved in the nicest area she could afford, in a gentrifying neighborhood. “Get a taste of how the rich live tonight,” Lizzie said to herself. However, she did put on a matching pair of underwear just in case she decided to do more.

**

Jonathan looked at Lizzie as the car pulled up to his place. He had been on his best behavior tonight; no sly comments, etc. after last time. But Lizzie had been cuddly during the movie and now, she… he couldn’t read her actions.

Jon entered his code and led Lizzie inside. “Very nice,” Lizzie commented as they walked through the first floor of his place.

“Oh wow, you have my favorite flowers,” Lizzie exclaimed as they walked into his kitchen. There was a vase with Spanish Jasmine flowers.

Jonathan shrugged even though he was inwardly pleased. He had ordered them this afternoon, a rush order when Lizzie said she would come over. Now she was here and he felt at a loss. His cock said to seduce her, his brain said to wait for her cues and see if she was actually interested. Jonathan grabbed two cups and got himself and Lizzie a glass of water before guiding her back into the living room.

“More movies,” Lizzie teased as she made herself comfortable on his leather couch.

Jonathan shook his head no, suddenly nervous as he cut on the TV. He didn’t want to fuck it up.

Lizzie smirked as she watched indecision on Jonathan’s face. Tonight, had been their first date since that conversation and it was obvious that Jonathan was still very interested but didn’t want to do anything that seemed pushy. Lizzie thought at first it was because they were out in public but she realized that if she wanted to actually go there again, she would have to bring it up.

“What are you thinking about, Jon,” Lizzie asked, intentionally shortening his name.

Jonathan put his arms on the back of the couch and mentally said fuck it. “Do you want to good answer or the dirty answer?”

“Dirty answer?”

Lizzie grinned as Jonathan gulped then groaned.

“I keep looking at your ass in those jeans and I want to grab it so bad,” Jonathan admitted. Lizzie looked at his big hands and she decided that tonight was the night.

“You can grab it, if you want?”

“Huh, what?”

Jonathan looked so dumbfounded that Lizzie giggled. “I said you can grab it. That’s another way of saying, you can touch me.”

“Are you sure,” Jonathan asked, locking eyes with Lizzie.

Lizzie rolled her eyes before grabbing his hand. “I came here with the full intent of getting fucked. But if you aren’t interested, that’s okay and we can hang out before I go home.”

“Oh, do you really want me to fuck you?”

Jonathan raised an eyebrow as Lizzie flung her hair behind her shoulder. “I want you to kiss me, eat my pussy, maybe I’ll suck your cock, and then fuck me, if you want to get precise.”

“Goddamn,” Jonathan breathed. “Fuck, then why don’t you sit in my lap?”

Lizzie climbed into his lap before locking eyes with Jonathan again. His deep brown eyes looked nearly black and he had stubble all around his jaw. She traced his jaw with her fingers before running her fingers through his hair. His voice a deeper monotone, Jonathan murmured, “I’m not going to bite, unless you want me to do that.”

Instead of replying, Lizzie brushed her lips over Jonathan’s, once, then twice. Then she leaned down and nipped his lip. “I like biting,” she whispered against his lips before kissing him again. Jonathan’s arms came around her waist, keeping Lizzie in place as he began to take over the lazy kiss. Need stretched through their kisses, tongues interacting as over a decade apart melted away. Then Jonathan pulled away. Lizzie reached to pull her sweater off but Jonathan stopped her.

“Let’s go to the bedroom, I don’t want to fuck you for the first time in forever on a couch, at least not this time.”

Lizzie laughed as Jonathan picked her up and nearly ran to his bedroom. She didn’t even get a chance to look around and admire before he was on her. Jonathan’s hands were all over her body as he desperately kissed her. Before Lizzie realized it, her sweater and bra were off and so was Jonathan’s hoodie and t-shirt. She could feel his rock-hard abs against her body as Jonathan rolled so that Lizzie was on top.

“Your tits are still fucking amazing.”

“Thanks,” Lizzie beamed as Jonathan gently kneaded them in his hands.

He murmured, “They are still so sensitive,” as her nipples hardened quickly in his fingers, watching Lizzie’s changes in expression. “So, you’ll tell me right away if I do something you don’t like?”

“Like what,” Lizzie asked.

Jonathan lightly grabbed her throat, something they had never done before but something he had learned that he liked to do. “Like that.”

“Mmmm, this is good,” Lizzie replied. Choking was one of the kinks she had explored with Greg and that she missed.

“Fuck, you got dirtier,” Jonathan stated before rolling Lizzie under him again.

“Why don’t you stop talking and undress me some more,” Lizzie ordered.

Jonathan laughed before idly replying, “Normally, I wouldn’t let you tell me what to do but we haven’t even negotiated that yet. And we aren’t, not tonight.”

Lizzie’s giggled as she shimmied out of her jeans. But those giggles were replaced with moans when Jonathan’s fingers brushed her upper and inner thighs before stroking her pussy through her panties. “So wet for me.”

He had planned to go slow but Jonathan was pretty sure that wasn’t happening, at least not for this first round. He needed to be deep inside of Lizzie, back where he belonged. Jonathan stood up and took off his own jeans and boxers, revealing his very hard cock. Lizzie reached up and ran a hand over his cock before pumping it with both hands.

“I’m not going to last that long,” Jonathan warned as Lizzie began to jerk him off. “I want to cum deep inside of your pussy, Elizabeth.”

“Oh my God,” Lizzie breathed. There was something in the way that Jonathan said her full name, it made her pussy drip even more.

Jonathan reached into his night stand and grabbed a condom. “Be a good girl and put this on me.”

Lizzie took the condom from Jonathan’s hands and opened it. Then she guided it over his cock with a wicked grin on her face. Leaning back on her elbows, Lizzie smirked at Jonathan before sucking her lip into her mouth. “Fuck me, Jonathan.”

Jonathan growled as Lizzie spread her legs, showing him just how wet and ready she was for him. Pulling a leg up and over his shoulder, Jonathan entered Lizzie slowly, making sure she felt every inch. Lizzie moaned, her hands grabbing anywhere they could on Jon as he fucked her, slow soft strokes turning harder with each thrust.

“Fuck you feel so good,” Lizzie groaned as Jonathan gave her a harder thrust, hips grinding with each stroke.

Jonathan managed to reply, “Your pussy still feels like it was made for me.”

He was already close and Jonathan couldn’t hold off even though he could tell that Lizzie wouldn’t cum with him this time. Jonathan’s lips found Lizzie’s as he kissed her while he came. Lizzie let Jonathan ride his high out, she could feel that she was getting closer but she wasn’t there.

Jonathan slumped against Lizzie for a couple moments before withdrawing from her pussy. He took off the condom, telling Lizzie, “Stay there.”

Dumping the condom into the trash, Jonathan pulled Lizzie to the edge of the bed. Spreading her legs, Jonathan knelt in between, fingers spreading her folds. Then his tongue licked her clit and Lizzie arched off the bed. “Don’t worry, I’m going to take care of you,” Jonathan cooed as he played with her clit. Then he dove in, licking her juices from her pussy before tongue-fucking Lizzie’s entrance. His fingers continued to roll her clit with light pressure, enough to keep Lizzie on the edge but not enough to get her to cum. Then Jon sucked her clit into her mouth and bit it very lightly, enough of a shock to get Lizzie to cum with a scream, fingers grabbing sheets to hold on for dear life. Jonathan muttered something in French as Lizzie rode out her high. Then she fell asleep with a light snore.

**

Lizzie laid on the bed, her hair fanned out around her head, body too depleted to move yet. But she peeled herself up as Jonathan was sitting up next to her, a MacBook in his lap.

“Wow, what time is it?”

“It’s a little after midnight,” Jonathan replied. He had changed into a pair of sweats and Lizzie licked her lips. He looked really good in gray sweats.

She shrugged. “At least it’s Saturday.”

“I cleaned you up after you passed out.”

Jonathan gave Lizzie a wicked grin as she blushed. “It’s been a while,” she replied.

Lizzie got up and Jonathan pointed to his left, indicating that was the way to get to the bathroom. Lizzie stepped inside of the master bathroom, still too tired to check it out. After taking care of business and washing her hands, Lizzie walked back into Jonathan’s bedroom. Jonathan handed her a t-shirt and said, “You’re too tired to attempt to drive home. You can stay here; I’ll keep my hands to myself.”

“I like cumming so you don’t have to keep them to yourself.”

Lizzie gave Jon a saucy smile while he groaned.

**

Let yourself be happy. Find that guy again, the one who was before me. I just want you to be happy, don’t shrivel up and die because I’m gone.

Lizzie looked at the note, last note from Greg before he passed from non-Hodgkin’s Lymphoma. Her wedding ring was on next to it, the simple gold band twinkling in the late winter sun.

Today was her seventh month since her move to Chicago, fifth since she met Jonathan for the first time in years. Tonight, she was going to the game, Elise going with her but this time, they were going to sit with the WAGs. Lizzie had met Jonathan’s closest friends and teammates and it was obvious that there was something happening between them. But Lizzie felt the need to look at this one more time.

“I’m going to be happy, Greg,” Lizzie whispered before putting her old wedding ring and the note in a box, setting it next to a vase of nineteen red tulips that Jon had given her. Then she pulled her hair into a ponytail, sent all work calls on her work phone to voicemail. Picking up her personal phone, Lizzie smiled as she looked at the text from Jonathan.

She wasn’t going to run this time. She was going to embrace a future with Jonathan.

[lovelessdagger]

Starlight - Prologue: Before

Pairing: Din Djarin x OC, Din Djarin x OFC

Rating: Mature

Enemies to Lovers, Slow Burn, Canon Divergence

Warnings: Blood, Violence, Explicit Language, Trauma

Words: 2000

Summary: What's past is prologue.

There's a new trend since the fall of the Empire, everyone is rising from the dead.

She's haunted by memories of the Empire that abandoned her, he's plagued with thoughts of what if and doubts of the future. The stars align in a string of constellations which guide them to their fates, decided long before them. 

Tortured with echos of before, they're alone in an endless galaxy. But orphans have a funny way of finding each other, and the gods have a sick sense of humor.

Read on AO3 Here

Tatooine was the galaxy’s own personal hell, Mustafar at least had the pleasure of fauna. Demonic nightmarish fauna that was more than likely poisonous, but fauna nonetheless. Tatooine? Tatooine was a barren wasteland that had gone to the dogs, and even the dogs had decided they wanted no part in its misfortune. At least on Mustafar she could go inside and be relieved of the heat, at least Mustafar could be considered home. 

Or at least it used to be, before.

“Maker,” An assassin mutters, crossing over a sand dune. The red tracking fob in her gloved hand sounds, it’s light flashing a similar color. To her relief, she was close. The sooner to the target, the sooner she could leave and never set foot on sand again. 

She could count the total number of visits to Tatooine in her lifetime on one hand. The first she couldn’t have been more than fourteen, then again at an older age to meet with the Hutts. Nine years ago, her father had sent her on a reconnaissance mission to some abandoned moisture farm. It had been terribly boring, full of memories of family dinners and old beaten up droids.

The irony that that very mission essentially caused her to lose everything wasn’t lost on her.

Five years ago she sat in the very cantina she walks to, warned to run away. A mere twenty-one years old—give or take, her birthday after all was a random day chosen by her and the waking sun. There was no telling her true age, so with her knowledge of human anatomy and development, nine years ago she decided on being seventeen.

“Why seventeen?” He asks her. Entering hyperspace she sits behind him, tracing passing stars on the window.

“Because,” she begins matter-of-factly, “Seventeen is a completely insignificant year to be alive. Sixteen is old enough that I won’t be questioned for traveling alone, but still too young to be taken seriously. I’m not quite ready to be an adult yet, but next cycle I will be. So I am seventeen now, so that I may be prepared to be eighteen later.”

Eighteen hours later, the first Death Star exploded. 

The events which follow guide her on a fragile string of stars throughout the galaxy, the culmination of which lead her back to hell. Or Tatooine, as the New Republic liked to call it.

Maybe if she had listened things would have been different.

Or maybe they would be worse.

Either way she would be here. The designer of her cruel fate and dictator of her misery have decided this long ago. Forever would she be trapped in hell with her memories.

And everyone else’s.

Condemned to relive the worst of what humanity had to offer, over, and over, and over again. It wasn’t so bad anymore, it’s easy to get numb to that sort of thing when your entire life was filled with it. Still, out of all the places in the galaxy, why did it have to be Tatooine?

She could understand the appeal for those on the run. Away from the New Republic’s oversight, moisture farms as the only viable landmark, and everyone being too overworked to give a damn. Theoretically it should have been easy to hide, the only issue was every criminal in the Outer Rim had the same idea. Originality be damned.

A detached hood and mask shield her identity, not that she believed anything with a penchant of life would be anywhere near. All that surrounded her was sand, rocks, and sand. Still, she could never be overly cautious. Walking up to the cantina, her eyes roll. It was like they wanted to make her job difficult. She could only assume the bar would be crawling with other criminals. Defected imperials, thieves, murderers.

It could have been a family reunion.

Eyes fall on her entrance, the suns backlight her into a silhouette. She becomes the one cascade of darkness in the light of the desert. 

“Boys,” she greets, walking in. Her eyes scan the room, there couldn’t be more than ten men. She counts the passing of ten seconds before one approaches her. Within those seconds her mind remarks on the state of the bar, essentially unchanged. Same busted chairs, same creaking floors, same hideous decorations. 

“What’s someone like you doing here?” a man grunts, stalking up to her. The most she does to acknowledge him is an eye roll. He grabs her arm, holding her in place. “Does your daddy know you’re out here?” he asks, leaning down to her ear.

She mocks a laugh. “Does yours?”

The man spits at her boots. “Bitch,” he says, walking away from her. His spit slowly rolls off her toe, leaving a glimmering streak along the leather in its wake. She pulls her blaster out, pointing the gun behind her, she shoots the man in the back of the head. He drops, his body heavy with a thud. 

The cantina falls to silence. Nine bodies are now watching her. No one makes a move, even the bartender stops his clinking glasses. She’s almost inviting them to try her next.

“No?” She asks, holstering her gun. “Pity,” she mutters. 

She walks up to body number seven, he sits in the same spot she had all those years ago. She places her soiled boot on his seat, grabbing his attention. Motioning for him to stand, she barely makes eye contact.

 Her fingers run across the tables’ wood, rubbing over permanent stains and rotting cracks.

“I have a bad feeling about this,” he says. He always worried too much about her, “Whatever he’s planning, you won’t come out of it.”

“I’m not a little girl anymore,” she says. “I can take care of myself now.”

“I know. That’s what scares me. You’re not safe anymore,” he replies.

“I don’t think I’ve ever been safe.”

Seven stares at her incredulously, slurping his liquor.

“Come with me,” his voice echos around her. If she closes her eyes it’s like he’s still sitting in front of her. Pleading.

“I don’t like making messes inside, it’s bad manners,” she says, reaching for her blaster. “Get up.” 

“Am I supposed to be scared, girl?” Seven asks. He scans her appearance and truth be told she was no Rancor, certainly no Hutt. While her build was athletic, her height physically left her the smallest in the room.

“You owe a lot of credits—” Seven stands, “—That’s better.” She drops her foot. “Now—“

“Step aside,” a modulated voice speaks behind her. She catches a reflection of the intruder in the glass of the framed artwork above Seven’s head. A Mandalorian, covered in pure Beskar, stands a whole head above her. Of course a fucking Mandalorian would show up right now, this had to be his doing. Even in the grave he had to fuck with her.

“Mando,” Seven laughs, he wipes his sweaty palms on his trousers. “I was uh, I was just talking to the missus here,” he grabs the girls shoulder. “Say, now’s not really a good time so how about we—“ 

“I don’t have time for this,” the Mandalorian says. He drops a bounty puck on the table, in blue holograms Seven’s profile appears.

WANTED: EDI MOURI 

“Let’s go,” Mando says.

The girl shakes herself from Seven. “Listen Shiny, I was here first so move along.” The Mandalorian’s head tilts.

“Are you with the guild?” He asks.

She picks up the bounty puck, examining the emblem. “Not yours.”

Mando’s head turns to One’s fallen body on the ground, a growing pool of blood by his head. 

“Your work?”

“You could say that.”

Seven clears his throat. Whispers of bets trail within the crowd. “In fairness. She did find me first.”

The pair are incredulous in their stare. “You want to go with the assassin?” Mando asks, a slight twinge of amusement escapes past his modulator.

Seven’s face turns to ice, his deep emerald skin becoming a pastel like hue. “On second thought. I always loved the Mandalorian stories I heard as a kid, I’m a big fan. Let’s go big guy.” He takes a step towards Mando, the assassin pulls out her blaster, pointing it to his head. At the same moment Mando pulls out his own, pointing it to her.

“Drop it,” he says. “I need him alive.”

She cocks her head to the side, pressing her forehead against the barrel of the gun. “Do it,” she purrs. 

He’s motionless.

She grabs the Mandalorian’s wrist with one hand, striking the bend in his arm with the other. A blaster shot fires, Three falls to the ground with a hole in his head. 

Mando lifts her by her neck and slams her into the table where Seven sits. Her vision flashes white and she groans on impact. Her hands fumble across the wood in frantic search of anything to defend herself with.

“Wait for me, I’ll come for you in two days.”

She smashes Seven’s plate against the table, shattering it. With a jagged edge of porcelain she slashes the Mandalorian’s arm, staining the edge with his red blood. In his stumble back she rolls off the table.

Harsh stabs are swung to the openings between the pieces of armor, he easily blocks but her movements are quick in succession. He ignites the flamethrower on his arm and she flips out of range.

Six isn’t so lucky.

She lands on his table, he’s charred and slumped over. She grabs a baton resting against his chair, cringing at its touch. Jumping of the table she strikes his helmet. The tune of impact horrifically melodic. 

Brought to his knees, Mando grabs her leg sweeping her onto her back. The baton falls out of her grasp. They tumble on the ground, scathing for any advantage they could find on the other. She slaps a taser disk on his armor, the shocks malfunction the electronics.

The Mandalorian lays on the ground, emitting heavy gasps for air. Sounds of passing credits come from a back table. She straddles him, pulling out the knife kept in the welt of her sleeve. It’s metal presses against his capes fabric gathered around his neck.

A smile twinges under her mask. “Not bad,” she pants, leaning down over him.

The cantina doors automate open, in perfect eye-line, a green little creature. It waddles in, cooing with bright eyes at the patrons, greeting them all. It locks eyes with her, head tilted. The veil of her mask conceals her dropped jaw. 

The Mandalorian takes the chance of her distraction; flipping their bodies over, he straddles her waist, pinning her hands above her head. The assassin’s chest rises and falls heavy from under him. “I told you to wait outside,” he grunts. The green thing coos, waddling to the pair. It reaches out for her. “No,” he says next, raising a scolding finger to it. It whines, plopping on its rear. 

Past the visor, his eyes lock onto hers, he clears his throat. Suggestive positioning aside, he had claim to victory. Though, had it not been for the child he would have been a dead man, throat slit under her knife. 

He could still kill her, his blaster was in reach, so was her knife. 

He should kill her.

But he doesn’t.

“Hey Mandalorian,” she breathes. “Where’s your bounty?” Seven’s seat empty, table broken, shattered porcelain fallen on the floor.

“Fuck,” he swears. He stands, pocketing the knife she held. He picks up the creature, sparing her one last glance. “Stay out of my way,” he warns. Exiting the building she’s left on the floor. 

The surviving witnesses avoid her glare. There are holes in the flooring, broken furniture, blood stains splattered on every surface.

So much for not making a mess indoors.

She scoffs, picking herself up. Her muscles ache, bruises are forming under her clothing, her head pounds.

Carelessly, she shoots Five on her way out.

It’s a redemption of sorts.

Officially, Tatooine was worse than hell.

Chapter One: The Meeting

[ashintheairlikesnow]

Tell Me Everything

Follows Found Out, Akio, Chris Sees, and I’m Here

CW: References to murder, suicide, grief, pet whump, abduction, whump of a minor, ableism, Oliver Branch manages to be creepy even now in brief reference

He’s shorter than Ben thought he would be.

Ben sees him first, but, like of course he does - Akio Nakamura isn’t exactly famous but he has his own youtube channel and is like an Olympic-level athlete, so he’s pretty fucking recognizable... if you’ve spent two days scrolling through every Instagram photo of him on three different accounts that you can find. 

Ben showed up thirty minutes early, because Ben has never been late to a fucking thing in his life and something tells him this is maybe one of the most important things he’ll ever do, even though he doesn’t quite know why. 

Something about it keeps picking at his mind, taking it apart, unraveling him with the reality that someone fucking cared about Chris, before whatever happened. Chris doesn’t remember much, and Ben and Laken had done the googling and searching and shit, trying to get some idea of what the hell could have happened to make someone like Chris - bouncy and full of sunshine optimism even on his bad days - end up at a place like WRU.

They’d found nothing a first. But Ben hadn’t known what he was looking for, then. Now that he knows what to look for, he can’t stop finding things. He feels like a detective or someone who has lost his mind, desperately piecing together a life that was interrupted, like someone disappearing mid-sentence, and Ben is following a trail of the words he said before. 

He finds human-interest stories from ten years ago, digitized articles from old community newspapers. He finds more photos from the gym, photos where the redheaded boy is in the background, or in the front always looking slightly off to one side, rarely smiling for the camera but happy to smile as long as he didn’t have to look right at it.

He finds out Veronica Higgs, murdered in the double-homicide that had destroyed the life of Tristan Higgs, had a facebook page, and it’s marked as In Memorial. So is her husband’s, but Paul Higgs’s page is private and his profile photo is a meme that hasn’t been a thing since��

Since they died.

Something about that makes his throat close up as he scrolls Ronnie’s last few public updates, the scattering of people who have left comments saying they miss her, they’re thinking of her, they hope she’s in a better place. Comments are left on the last post like clockwork, once a year, by the same few people. 

Thinking of you today, Ronnie. 

Saw your favorite bird today!

Hope you and Tris and Paul are happy wherever you are now, Ronnie. I take comfort in knowing you’re still together.

Happy Heavenly Birthday, Ronnie!

Left flowers for you today, Ronnie. Jennifer did a routine this year that uses some of Tristan’s music, we’re always thinking of you!

Thinking of you

Miss you

Hope you three are happy together

Miss you, big sister, always.

One day I’ll stop leaving comments like you’re still here. I was watching the old videos and gosh, I couldn’t help but think how proud we were of our boys back then! Rest in peace. Give Tris a kiss for me. That’s Aimi Nakamura, that’s Akio’s mom. Her profile photo is her with her arms around Akio himself, wearing his leotard and holding up a medal with a bright smile, and a younger teenager who must be his little sister - she’s just wearing regular clothes. Feeling like a stalker, Ben opens the mom’s facebook page in a new tab. He absolutely does not look at the photos of Akio she’s posted. He does not do that at all.

He might do that later.

For now he goes back to Ronnie’s page, sees that her last post was brief, something about looking for a recipe, crowd-sourcing. Tris asked to try baked oysters, isn’t that funny? Only my kid, I swear. He’d said seafood is ‘slime’ except for tuna since toddlerhood, but no, this week he wants oysters. He said he wanted to try something new for once and he might as well go as far from the usual as he could get. I

One of the joys of all of this is how when he gets something in his head, I just go with him, and we see what’s on the other side of the jump, right? Watch him spit it right back out. 

It’s fucking ordinary. 

She posted it a couple days before she was murdered.

That doesn’t seem fair, does it? He just can’t wrap his head around it. She was a good mom taking care of her kid, she got some recipe ideas... but then she never cooked any of them because she just… died?

She died, and Tristan’s - Chris’s - dad died, and then there just wasn’t anybody? There wasn’t anybody to take care of a kid who couldn’t take care of himself yet? Nobody at-fucking-all, to keep Tristan safe and loved when the people who loved him the most were gone? 

How the hell did he go from placed in the care of relatives to just... gone? How did he go from gone to a rescued runaway pet with a new name and a new life? What happened in all that gray space in-between?

Ben blinks back tears.

Whatever it was... could that happen to Jamey? Ben’s whole family has built their existence on holding his little brother together through the ways the world wants to shred everything about him. He’s spent nearly all the life he remembers with his brother’s hand closed in the fabric of his shirt, shadowing him through the world, reminding him that you can’t trust everybody, not everyone has good intentions. 

Ben doesn’t even have to think before he’s moving in front of him to block out the noise and chaos of the world that Jamey just can't filter the way Ben can. He knows that when - hopefully forever from now - their parents die, Jamey’s going to move in with Ben. 

It’s never been a question. He doesn’t want it to be a question.

But... what if Ben wasn’t there? What would happen to Jamey if his Mom and Dad were gone, and nobody was there who wanted to keep Jamey safe? He can’t stop thinking about it. He cycles around and around, and Laken called him yesterday and said not to talk to Chris for a few days, that he saw the video and he’s not okay, and Ben’s not fucking okay, either, is he?

This could happen to Jamey.

Someone could see him, alone and vulnerable, and think, no one will stop me and he can’t stop me either, and then Jamey could disappear and then just not be Jamey anymore, and there wouldn’t be anyone to save him-

Ben looks up from his phone without focusing on anything, sniffing back the pain, the tight feeling in his chest at the idea of his little brother, disappearing into some dark hallway and never coming back. Just some photos on Instagram, a video of two, some mentions on somebody’s In Memorial Facebook page, that’s all that’s left of his silly, serious, annoying, funny little brother?

Like someone turned out the light on Jamey’s life and the world just forgets him, because his family isn’t there to keep him safe and Jamey can’t always tell who you can trust and who you can’t, and… and Chris can’t either, can he?

He just wants to think the best of everyone, he forgives everyone who hurts him so easily, so quickly, like it’s second-nature, like...

Did Tristan Higgs want to think good things about whoever did this, whoever had him erased, whoever handed him off to be turned into one of those blank empty-eyed dolls celebrities and rich people drag around? Did Tristan Higgs trust the person who gave him away to be erased, because he didn’t know not to?

Who the fuck bought him?

How did it all fucking happen?

The bell chimes. Akio Nakamura is right on time.

And he’s short.

He’s got a natural almost-smile on his face at all times, a hint of tan to his skin even now in the early spring, wearing a thin gray hoodie, unzipped over a plain white t-shirt and blue jeans. His muscles aren’t visible, like this, but Ben has seen the videos and knows they’re there, the body of a trained athlete hidden under casual clothing. His hair isn’t as short as it is when he competes, in the videos Ben has already watched over and over entirely for research purposes. It’s a little longer, starting to flop over his forehead.

Dark eyes scan the interior of the store, and Ben raises one hand to catch his attention.

The smile brightens, briefly, with a quick nod - like the sun coming out from behind a cloud, Ben feels that smile as a physical warmth in his chest - and he pushes the rest of the way inside, walking straight over. 

“Hey,” Akio says, and his voice is a little deeper than it seems in the youtube videos where he narrates, and Ben, for one shining moment, completely forgets how to speak his own fucking native language.

His mouth opens and nothing comes out - except maybe kind of a croak, which, please let that not have been audible - and he clears his throat, waiting for his brain and his body to remember how to work together. “Uh… um, h-hey,” He says, finally, and shifts uncomfortably. “You’re-... right. I’m, um. I’m Ben.”

“Yeah. I, I figured, you look just like your profile photo.” Akio laughs a little, dropping into a seat cross from him, sitting casually and letting his eyes roam over the mostly-empty interior of the shop, painted with bright colors and lined with posters about ice cream. 

Ben could not possibly have picked a worse place for a professional athlete to go to… meet and talk about his dead friend, could he? Oh, God. Oh he’s a fucking moron. “Right. Uh, sorry, I couldn’t-... when you asked to meet on the phone, I kind of blanked and this was the only place I could think of-”

“Hey, that’s all right. I like coming here, when I’m off from competing. It’s been a while. Hope you don’t mind if I stick with an iced coffee today, though, I’m not feeling ice cream.” Akio grins at him, and Ben’s knees might buckle if he wasn’t sitting down already. The smile takes over his entire face, lights it up, and it reminds him so much of Chris when he’s really happy, the way Chris smiles with his entire fucking body, not just his mouth. 

“Yeah, it’s… no problem, I’ll order, I picked here, anyway. Just the iced coffee?” 

“Yeah, please. Also, I should warn you - my mom is lurking across the street faking an interest in whatever they sell at Paisley Poses and she’ll probably stop pretending she’s not here and show up before we’re done. She’s… uh. Well, get the stuff, and then I’ll, um, I’ll explain.”

“Right. Got it.” Ben’s grip on his phone is white-knuckled as he stands up, aware of every movement of his body as he walks - and he walks normally, right? Not, like weird? It’s not like Akio is watching him walk anyway, probably - over to the cash register. The cashier, whose hair is dyed a pale faded sort of seafoam green, almost the color of those weird mint shakes you can buy from McDonald’s in April, takes his order with a flat affect, unbothered, uncaring.

Ben doesn’t know what he orders for himself. His mouth moves and words come out and then he realizes he doesn’t know what he just said. 

Whatever it is, he pays for it.

He takes the little number-on-a-stick, and carries it back to the table to wait. 

“Iced coffee it is,” He says a little breathlessly. “Um, it’ll be just a sec. They’ll bring it out with my… with mine.”

Shit, what the fuck did he even order for himself?

“No problem.” Akio’s eyes move over his face, considering. He’s sitting slouched a little, but it doesn’t look quite natural - like his posture is usually so much better and he’s trying to look like everyone else. Ben’s eyes are drawn to his hands, folded over his stomach, over wrinkled white shirt fabric. He has a blood-bruise under one thumbnail.

What a weird fucking thing to notice about someone.

“I-I don’t really know where to start,” Ben admits, slouching himself. He runs his fingers over the textured case of his phone, a charcoal-black with rough edges. Jamey likes the texture on his phone, will just sit and rub the pads of his fingers on it over and over and over again, smiling in a distant way, sitting next to Ben on the couch while Ben watches TV and Jamey, who can go days without speaking and is currently one hundred percent all about how they film movies and tv shows, explains every fucking cinematic trick every camera is using at any given moment.

It’s nice.

It’s how Jamey says he loves you, by sharing what’s up in his head whenever he can, and Ben - when he’s home - always tries to listen. 

“Yeah.” Akio laughs again, and Ben decides it’s a good laugh - strong, and not overly loud, and a little infectious. “Yeah, me neither. I don’t-... how do you even begin a conversation like this? Hello, nice to meet you, what do you know about my dead best friend? I don’t know what to say, just… we don’t even know they’re the same person, do we? Maybe they just look alike. Fuck.” Akio laughs once more, but this time it’s shaky, breathier. “I genuinely can’t decide if I want him to dead or not, I just-...”

Ben takes a breath, thinking of Laken’s voice on the phone yesterday morning, exhausted and rambling after a night of not sleeping, their fear and grief and love for Chris, telling Ben to go ahead with this meeting, but Chris needed time. “They’re definitely the same person,” He says, voice low and quiet. “We, um. He saw the video you posted, and he kind of-... freaked out.”

“Freaked out?” Akio blinks, sitting up a little straighter. His eyes are focused completely on Ben’s face, which would make him blush if he weren’t trying not to look directly at him. “What do you mean?”

Ben swallows. “Um. Just. He’s-... he doesn’t remember. Or… he didn’t. Seeing the video might have… brought some stuff up. Like, a lot of... bad stuff.”

Fuck, I’ve never heard him scream like that. Laken’s voice, rough-edged, laced with their tears. I can’t believe… he needs a few days, he can’t go with you to see this guy, Ben. He’s-... he’s super fucked up right now. I’m so glad his brothers know what’s happening to him because I-I don’t know what to do and he won’t let me anywhere near him. 

Akio nods, slowly, and his hands worry at each other under the table, the smile faded and replaced with seriousness, uncertainty. “Yeah, when you said-... anyway, I looked the company up, and it’s-... it’s weird, I knew about pets, but I guess… I mean, he wasn’t old enough to…” 

“Um… yeah. So, um. I know, but they-... clearly they still did...”

They sit there in an awkward silence, and then Akio pulls his own phone out of his pocket and unlocks it. “Let me show you something. Tris and I shared our passwords for Instagram, way back, and when he-... went… when his aunt took his phone away-”

Ben’s eyebrows furrow. Something about that pricks at him. Miss you, big sister, always. 

“He went to live with his aunt?” Ben asks. The cashier reappears, setting a plain iced coffee down on the table, and Ben discovers he apparently ordered iced coffee with a scoop of ice cream for himself, and that’s not bad, good for him. It’s even his favorite ice cream, vanilla with almond and chocolate chips.

“Yeah, his Aunt Jo, his mom’s sister.” Akio shrugs one shoulder. “I never met her, she never came to meets or anything. Tris always said she was kind of a shit to him and his dad.” Something in his jaw is tightening - and the line of his jaw is catching Ben’s eyes entirely too much for the seriousness of this conversation. He can’t stop himself from looking. “She’s who he went to live with, after. She took his phone away because he was complaining to, um, to my mom and I - my mom and Ronnie, Mrs. Higgs, were… you know, team moms.” He shrugs, and Ben doesn’t know, but he nods anyway. “He was complaining about how she took him out of therapy, and… uh, you know, Tris needed therapy, just-... it helped him to, um-”

Ben swallows. “Self-regulate,” He says, softly. “Redirect potentially harmful stims. Figure out how to filter.”

“Right.” Akio smiles, a little shamefaced. “Sorry, it’s been… fucking years since I had to think about this so much. It’s… I would show my mom his messages, and my mom would call Jo and tell her to get him back in therapy and back to practice, but… you know, the social workers said there was nothing we could do about it. We weren’t family. We made complaints, but...” Akio slumps, closing his eyes briefly. "God, I don't even know if they did a home visit."

Ben closes his eyes. Jamey, trapped with someone who didn’t let him go to his own therapy. Jamey, nonverbal on hard days, trapped with someone who didn’t learn signing to talk to him during meltdowns like Ben’s family did. 

Jamey, trying to say he needed help with his hands again and again but no one’s listening, no one’s even trying anymore-

“Yeah,” Ben says, voice hoarse, and uses a thin plastic spoon with a long handle to get a bite of ice cream soaked in cold coffee taste, letting it dissolve on his tongue to buy himself some time for his throat to open back up. It’s fear in his chest, yeah, but beneath that is a bubbling, simmering fury, a distant anger for a hypothetical that he understands was Chris’s reality. “Yeah. My brother’s-... um, autistic, so I know… I know about it.”

“Yeah, I saw that.”

Ben blinks, caught off-guard. “What?”

Akio flushes, reddening along his cheekbones, and rolls his eyes at himself, slumping back down. “Okay, so, I promise I’m not a stalker, but when you messaged me I looked at your profile to see if you were just a creep. I saw the autism banner, so I looked and you wrote this really sweet thing about your brother-... how old is he?”

Ben almost forgets how to speak again. “He’s-... fifteen. Just turned fifteen. Jamey’s, um, his name is Jamey.”

“Cool. Yeah. So. I’m not a stalker. But, I’m just… listen, Tris and I started training at the gym together when we were like… seven. And I was seventeen when he, when she said… when she said he died.”

Ben’s breath catches. “Shit. She did?”

“Um. Yeah. A month after she took his phone away - we were calling her all the time asking to speak with him and stuff, my mom had kind of threatened to get social services involved again - she called my mom and said he-... um. Sorry if suicide is a thing for you, but…”

“No, I-I’m okay, I just…”

“Yeah. She told us he killed himself. We thought she was lying - oh fuck, she was lying, wasn’t she? - but so... but then you know, she had him cremated, and... I fucking-... I lost my shit, Ben. I didn’t compete, I didn’t train, I just, I just sat in my room for like six months bawling my eyes out and I told my mom it was just like she killed him, taking him away from everything when, you know, he was so sad and scared without them.”

Ben nods, quiet, watching Akio’s face as he speaks.

“My mom offered to take him, have him live with us, but… you know, she said no, and then he-... but he didn’t.” Akio drinks his coffee, absently, and Ben realizes his eyes are red around the edges. “Oh, god, he probably thought nobody cared about him anymore. Oh, shit. He probably thought we stopped giving a fuck. That h-he was al-... alone-”

He’s been crying. He’s maybe going to cry again.

Akio takes in a deep, shuddering breath. “He didn’t know-... shit. He probably just thought, no one’s coming, nobody cares, and… shit. I don’t know what to even think right now, just...” Akio slides his phone across the table. “Look at this. I locked it, when I thought-... but I kept it, anyway. I kept everything, I couldn’t-... I mean it’s just a box of stuff under my bed, but… I couldn’t throw any of it out, because… I don’t know. Somebody needed to, to r-remember him, and she wouldn’t have-... that fucking bitch told us he was dead. And she threw out all his stuff, so I’m... I guess I’m the only one who still has anything, so I just... kept it. Everything. And... this.”

There’s a moment where they both pretend Akio’s voice isn’t trembling.

“What is this?” Ben knows before the question is fully out of his mouth, but he looks anyway. Akio’s phone is still warm from his hand. 

“Tristan’s Instagram account. We, uh, we took pictures of stupid shit a lot back then, and Instagram was, like, super new and all filters all the time, so you just-... but this is his. His mom encouraged him to use it because, you know, sometimes he could show stuff better than he could say it.”

“Yeah, I get that.” Ben tilts his head, scrolling through the images. Most of the photos are just nothing - a cloud, books on a bookshelf, a tree leaf. Ben kind of quirks a smile at all the old Instagram filters right there, like looking in a fucking time capsule. Sometimes there are gymnastics photos, of the gym or of someone training. Sometimes Tristan himself appears in the photo, a blur of constant motion, photos taken by someone else. Photos of dinosaur bones at a museum, seemingly every fucking skeleton or fossil in the place.

“That’s our trip to DC, the team went,” Akio says, and points to a photo of Tristan and Akio, gangly awkward teenagers, standing in front of the Lincoln monument. Akio is smiling, and Tristan is looking up at the sky instead of the camera. “I like to look at this stuff sometimes? I know it’s been… it’s funny, we were talking a few weeks ago about how it’ll be a couple more years when he’s been dead longer than how long I knew him, but he’s not-... he was never dead.” Akio swallows, and his voice catches. When he speaks again, he sounds strained, forcing his voice to stay calm around the emotion that threatens to overtake it. “He was never dead. I keep getting caught up on that, because-... because how did we not know? How did we never… find him?”

Ben pushes the phone back to Akio. “You didn’t know to look,” He says, softly. “How were you supposed to find him if you didn’t know anyone needed to be looking?”

“I guess. My mom feels like shit, she’s been crying since we spoke to you. Well, I have, too. But my mom feels like she… she should have showed up at Joanne’s door and just taken Tristan by force, but, you know, the cops would’ve taken him right back, probably? That’s fucking kidnapping? And I keep telling her not to feel guilty, but she-”

“Yeah,” Ben says, thinking of Laken’s voice on the phone. 

I didn’t know he’d come home early. I keep saying I’m sorry but... He wasn’t-... he wasn’t ready for this and he’s so… he’s so fucked up. He won’t even talk to me. Every time Jake leaves the room we’re scared he’ll hurt himself again. He keeps telling me to find someone else, somebody easier, but I don’t want anyone else, god damn it, I want him! 

“She’s taking it really hard,” Akio says, finally, breaking into Ben’s thoughts. “I mean. We both are. But, you know, I keep thinking I can’t do this but then I think… I want to see him again. I want to see this guy in person, not just in those photos and videos you had. I want to see how he’s doing, he looks-... he looks so good.” Akio coughs, like he’s trying to cover up a sob, not quite managing it. “He looks really good.”

“He is, he’s doing… he’s good. Um, he’s having a hard time with remembering some stuff, but overall... he’s good.” Ben picks his own phone back up, pops back to Ronnie’s page. “What did you say the aunt’s name was?”

“Jo, um, Joanne… something. Sorry, I don’t really remember her last name, my mom would-”

“Botham?” Ben looks up, and god, he kind of wants to hug Akio until there aren’t tears in his eyes anymore. But also that’s a stupid thing to think, isn’t it? But he wants to, anyway. 

“Oh, that sounds right.”

“She left a comment on his mom’s-... I’ve been looking for everything I could find. I’m sorry, I know that’s creepy. But Joanne Botham left like a comment about missing-... hold on.” Ben clicks to open up Joanne Botham’s profile. A woman smiling in a profile photo, with dark hair. Something about the shape of her mouth is similar to Chris’s, but that doesn’t mean much, really. He scrolls down. 

Name, stupid quote from a stupider movie, current city is a while away from this one, like a couple states away, but she could’ve moved… There it is.

The answer to his questions, all of them, all at once, right out in the open.

“Joanne Botham,” He says out loud, “works at WRU.”

“What?” Akio looks up at him.

“His aunt. The mom’s sister, she works for WRU. That’s where Chris was-... where they hurt him. Where they make pets.”

Where they erase people. Where they take someone like Jamey and destroy him and how many versions of my brother are there who weren’t rescued by somebody like Chris’s big brother?

“WRU?” Akio’s face twists, an ugly pain written across it. “They’re one of our team’s sponsors. I’ve never thought about how… oh my god. I, I never liked… I mean, none of us are, like, political about it because you can’t be if you want an Olympic career, not really, but we all kind of hated taking the money. My coach thinks it’s good because it gets people off the street, which is super fucked up, but…” His iced coffee thunks down on the table. 

“What?”

“Oh shit. Oh holy fuck. They’ve been sponsoring us since we met with the old governor - he’s the one who hooked our coach up with their marketing team, and… oh my god. I’m gonna be fucking sick. WRU’s been my sponsor since like… a year after Tristan died-... didn’t die, I guess...”

“You didn’t know,” Ben whispers, staring down at Joanne Botham’s profile photo, scrolling through the profile picture photo album. He’s not maybe the smartest person on earth, but he can put two and two together for four. Tristan Higgs’s parents died, he goes to his aunt - who works for a human pet company - and he’s dead, supposedly, four months later. 

Time passes. No sign of supposed dead boy.

Then Chris, identical in every way, appears with no memory of his life and a thousand traumas to heal from, rescued from something that Ben doesn’t know the details of, but he doesn’t have to. 

Life as a pet, a life that made him terrified of bad weather and scared of people who raise their hands too quickly, unable to say no to anything when he gets scared, nervous about big vans with no windows, someone who says stupid fucking bullshit like silence is better than stammering when he’s upset, who sometimes has screaming nightmares that Laken has to wake him from that he refuses to explain to them...

Meanwhile, Aunt Joanne is putting up photos of herself traveling internationally, buying a new house, a new car, stuff she couldn’t afford to do before.

The math does itself.

It’s fucking true crime textbook, and it’s right in front of his eyes.

Akio’s jaw is working, and his eyes are glimmering again. He looks at Ben, and he looks weirdly lost and young, and Ben reaches out without thinking and grabs onto his hand. Akio grips on tight. His hand is warm, almost too warm, but also it’s the perfect amount of warm. “Do you think-... do you think she-”

Ben thinks about Jamey, scared and alone. He thinks about Jamey - and Tristan, the two of them mixing together in his mind - being dragged away, to be lost and overwritten, because no one was there to stop it.

Because someone did it on purpose.

Because no one stopped it.

“I think maybe she was lying to you because she didn’t want you to take Tristan,” Ben says, softly. “I think maybe she wanted to-... make money on him.”

Akio chokes, and leans forward, and Ben holds his hand as tightly as he can, feeling the other man’s fingers tremble in his grip. “I can't-... I can't even begin to deal with that, I just… So h-how did he end up in college? Pets don’t-... go to school, they’re not capable… are they?"

"Um. It depends, apparently?" Ben doesn’t know how much of this is something Chris would ever allow him to share. But Akio’s eyes raise, and catch his again, and Ben smiles, just a little, in an attempt to comfort. “He was rescued,” He says, softly. “I don’t know how, or when. He’d have to tell you that himself. But he’s, um. He’s just Chris now.”

“He’s just Chris, now.” Akio groans resting his head on his hand. “But not Tristan. So he really is dead, his body’s still just-.. walking around.”

“No,” Ben says, and leans in, getting Akio to look at him again. “He’s not gone. Not, like, the core of him, I think. We knew him as soon as we saw him on your video. We knew the smile, and how he moves, all of it. Everybody in the room knew him as soon as we saw him smile at you. He’s still there, he’s still him. I promise.”

“I knew it was him on your stuff as soon as I saw him dancing,” Akio says, brokenly. “H-he always did get obsessed with those fuh-fucking musicals and we used to make up routines to th-them-” His head drops, shoulders shaking, and Ben puts his other hand on Akio’s shoulder, moves around the edge of the little circular table, so he can put an arm around him. 

“It’s okay,” He whispers. “It’s okay.”

“It’s not,” Akio says, muffled. “It’s not okay. We should have saved him, w-we didn’t know, we didn’t know she would… he probably th-thought we didn’t care... the social worker said it was fine, we’re not re-relatives, we didn’t know he wasn’t dead, we didn’t know he wasn’t gone, I thought I l-lost him and he probably thinks I didn’t even give a fuck-”

“I’m sure he never thought that,” Ben says, softly, and Akio’s hair brushes a little against the side of his face and he tries not to think too hard about how nice that feels, this is not the time or place, Benjamin, stop thinking about his hair stop it stop it stop it.

“We thought... “

“I know. But… you found him, now. He’s found.”

Akio sniffs back tears, mumbling, “Can I see him?”

Ben hesitates. “He needs-... he might need some time.”

Akio nods without looking up, but he leans a little on Ben. “I’m sorry, I’m being a fucking moron about this, making you comfort me and you don’t even know me, but I just-... missed him, and mourned him, and we go to see is parents wh-where they’re buried every year on the day that his aunt said he-... Is he h-happy? Now?”

Ben closes his eyes. That’s what I’d want to know, isn’t it, if it was Jamey. Is he happy now? Does his new family sign, do they know how to calm him down when it’s too much, do they know, do they care, if I’m not there does someone love him as much as we did?

I’d claw my way out of the fucking grave to make sure someone loves Jamey as much as he deserves.

“He’s happy,” Ben says, softly. “He was adopted by the guy who saved him, I think. There’s a whole lot I don’t know, you know, it’s not really my-... my story to, um, to tell. I just know some of it. He’s, um, he’s with someone, and… he’s… he’s happy.”

“Good. I just-... I want to see him.”

“I know. I’ll ask. But his partner... I’m friends with them, and they, um, he’s n-not... not okay right now, so...”

“I can wait.” Akio looks at him, intense, intent, eyes so dark Ben could fall in. “I’ve waited this long, I can-... I can wait a little longer, I just... I just want to see him, when he can see me.”

The bell over the door chimes again, and the two of them turn and look to see a woman who could not be more obviously Akio’s mother entering, looking at them, her eyebrows furrowed in immediate worry when she sees the tears on Akio’s face. “Aki?”

“It’s him, Mom,” Akio says, and she moves to him as if drawn, and Ben fights himself to pull back and away, to watch mother and son. Tristan had this, and lost it, but Chris has it, too. Life, interrupted at the second act, begun again with new actors around the main character. “It’s definitely-... it’s Tristan. But, she-... I have to tell you what happened to him. He, they-they made him a, um, a pet-”

She hitches in a breath, pulls a chair with a loud scrape from another table, and sits, looking Ben over, expression serious. “Tell me,” She says, softly, but fiercely. 

“It’s, um, it’s a lot…”

“I’ve got time.” Ben is reminded of his own mother, in the simple steel flashing under her perfectly styled hair and carefully done makeup. Her eyes are red around the edges, too. She lays a cool, dry hand over Ben’s, and her dark eyes bore into him with focused intensity. “Tell me what happened to our Tris. I want to know what happened to-... I want to know what I didn’t stop.”

Akio looks sidelong at his mother, putting an arm around her, and he’s shorter than his mom but she seems to sag against him, and he can see how Akio takes after his mom, with the same wide mouth that normally seems always on the verge of a smile, the same dark eyes flashing with anger and guilt. “M-Mom, you couldn’t have known, we couldn’t do anything-”

“I could have gone to that woman’s… house, or wherever she was, and taken Tristan right out the door, and I didn’t,” Aimi says, and her voice doesn’t shake, but her face is bright red and her eyes are overbright and glittering. “I could have called lawyers, or the cops, I could have tried to fight for him and I didn’t. Ronnie deserved-” Her voice catches and her hand is over her mouth. Ben watches her eyes well up, her struggle to calm herself, throat working as she swallows and leans into her son’s embrace. “Ronnie… would have wanted someone to fight for him. I want to know what happened because I did the normal thing and not the right thing, because I didn’t let myself see it. I want to know what exactly it is that I didn’t stop when I had the chance.”

Ben sits back, takes a breath. 

“He, um. His name is… Chris now,” Ben starts, slowly. “Christopher Stanton. He’s, um, he’s a sophomore in college, and… he was a human pet, for a while. We don’t know how long, nobody knows for sure, or who had him. I mean, I guess he knows and I think his brother knows, but h-he, won’t… won’t tell anyone who it was.”

Aimi’s whole body shudders, but her face doesn’t change, and her eyes don’t leave Ben’s. “H-how-”

Akio licks at his lips, and hesitantly says, “Ben thinks maybe that aunt they sent him to sold him. She works for WRU.”

Aimi’s eyes slowly close, and her breathing is slow but trembling. The two young men watch her. Akio’s knee bumps his under the table, and he doesn’t think about that, either, except it’s all he’s going to think about for the rest of the day.

“Okay,” Aimi says, after a long pause, and her eyes open again. A kind of perfect calm settles itself across the pain in her expression. 

Ben thinks that this woman is probably fucking terrifying if it’s you she’s angry with and not herself. 

“Mom, if we need to stop, that’s okay-”

“We don’t. Ben-... that’s your name? Ben?”

“Uh, yeah… Benjamin Prentiss, but-... call me Ben.” 

Prentiss, Akio mouths to himself, and Ben hopes, in another weird moment, that Akio likes his last name. 

“Got it.” Aimi leans forward, smacks the table with one hand. Ben flinches. Her jaw sets. She’s definitely terrifying. Like his own mother when they tried to kick Jamey out of school, this is a woman who could stare down the sun itself unblinking and walk away undamaged, if the sun was a threat to her children. “Ben?”

“Yes, um, Mrs. Nakamura?”

“Keep talking. Tell me everything about Tristan-”

“Chris.” He clears his throat. “He’s, um, his name is Chris.”

“... tell me everything about Chris.”

--

Tagging: @burtlederp, @finder-of-rings, @endless-whump, @whumpfigure, @slaintetowhump, @astrobly  @newandfiguringitout  , @doveotions  , @pretty-face-breaker  , @boxboysandotherwhump  , @oops-its-whump  @moose-teeth  , @cubeswhump  , @cupcakes-and-pain  @whump-tr0pes  @whumpiary  @orchidscript

[fountainpenguin]

It’s an Update

Hello, Riddle here! I know I’ve been pretty quiet on Tumblr lately. Here’s an update on my situation:

I will definitely post more fanfic updates soon. I’ve picked at drafts, but haven’t posted anything lately. Here are the reasons why:

I got a new IRL job. It’s a good fit for me, but I have less free time than I used to, of course. It’s a job that involves writing lots of articles on a variety of topics, and I enjoy how every day is a little different

Most of my free time for the last year has gone towards my mod work at the Creature-Crossing ARPG, and to my personal CC writing. I’ve been working on new activities over there (my recent favorite being our seasonal familiar shows... I won first place in the summer show!) and I have a lot of plot plans that are coming together now. If you ever want to see my original characters and read my CC writing, you can find my character directory HERE and my Table of Contents HERE.

Once November 1st hits, I won’t be preparing for the release of any more CC activities or events. All future activity or event releases will be overseen by the other mods, and I’ll simply be someone they can ask for extra help if needed. This is a big change for a mod who spent the last 12 months working on new releases, and will give me back some of the free time my IRL job will eat

The Creature-Crossing admin (my boss) greenlit my request to bring an assistant on the mod team who will specifically help me with a lot of my behind-the-scenes work, such as data entry and organization. I’ve never had another mod who specifically helps me with the back end duties before, so that will be awesome. I will need to spend some time training them, but once they are official, that will take some of my workload off and allow me more free time for this blog and personal writing time.

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Fanfic updates you can expect to see soon:

- Reedfilter Rules

- Frayed Knots

- Origin of the Pixies

- Debut of Factor It In, my Kid Math-centric “WordGirl” fanfic (Subtitled “Tales of a third-grade superhero in training”)... Yes I am still in love with this idiot boy, expect lots of doodle pages soon

- The 130 Prompts project is on a slow-burn writing schedule... I’ll write for it when I want to, but I mostly want to focus on Origin and Knots this year.

Further info below the cut. There is more info about non-Fairly OddParents ‘fics in here too (under “non-FOP fanfics”), so if you’re looking forward to Mario World or “WordGirl” ‘fics from me, give this a click so you know what’s coming!

So, what does this update mean for your fanfics?

They’ll be active again soon! I’ve been picking at them behind the scenes, trying to build up a buffer. In an ideal world, I would love to release a new chapter for SOMETHING every Friday. I doubt this will be possible, but it’s something I would love to work towards in the future. Realistically, you can probably expect some kind of fanfic update once every two Fridays (two updates per month).

There might be some Fridays where posting an update is not possible. Instead, I’ll make a post about what progress I made instead. In the past, I often overworked myself to get a chapter out in time for my old deadline. I will not be doing that anymore, but will instead hold myself to a goal of “Make progress on something every week.”

In the best ideal world, I would love to post one FOP fanfic update per week and one non-FOP fanfic update per week. This is not likely to happen for a long, long time, but that would be the dream.

-

Here are the things I most likely worked on if there is no fanfic update:

- A fanfic chapter draft that needs more time

- A sideblog profile

- A Toyhouse profile for personal characters

- IRL work or mod work may have kept me busy this week

- Creature-Crossing writing... I will try to prioritize my fanfics more, but my CC writing is still important to me and I will be working on it in a lot of my free time too. At the moment, I have a hard deadline of December 14th that I need to meet if I want to release huge plot drama on the day that it happens in canon. I’ve been building up to this for a long time, so I’m really excited about that.

I currently have summer or autumn 2022 planned as the “finale” for the majority of my plot to explode. I will be hosting a member-run event in Creature-Crossing that will last for two months, so a lot of my time from January until the event’s release will be spent doing event prep. Once the event ends, my story content will mostly be a “return to slice of life.” Stories will be more casual one-offs as characters grow, live their lives, and start their own families. Hitting seasonal deadlines for plot will no longer be so important. I’ll be giving Creature-Crossing work less attention after that, and much more attention to my fanfics.

- I may not have a fanfic chapter out each week, but I WILL post a note every Friday to let you know what I have been doing with my time. You’ll see me around. Feel free to send Asks and talk!

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What non-FOP fanfics would you like to work on?

For literal years, I’ve been claiming I want to post Mario World fanfics. This is still something I want to do. I tag Mario World posts as “mushrooms and more.” I’ve already done a lot of worldbuilding, I have thousands of words of content written for this fandom... I just haven’t posted any of it. I hope to do this soon.

- “WordGirl” fanfics are prioritized over Mario World fanfics. After I finish my first “WordGirl” multi-chapter, I will probably be ready to post my Mario World ‘fics. I may possibly post some Mario World one-shots in between other fanfic updates. Might take another year or more before I touch Mario stuff unless there’s high interest in seeing it sooner?

I also really want to write some WordGirl ‘fics and get more involved with the fandom community. I’ve been building headcanons and lore for this show ever since I was a kid, and I have multiple ‘fics for this fandom that I want to write.

- “AlgoRhythm” is a ‘fic I have already posted on FFN and AO3, about WordGirl introducing Kid Math to the villains in town

- 28 Cities is a ‘fic I started about Rhyme and Reason before they arrived in Fair City. I put it on hiatus since it didn’t seem like anyone was interested, but I’m willing to post more for it if there is interest in it now that years have passed and I’ve gotten more followers who like WordGirl. I have a lot of worldbuilding and plot I never shared for it

- Factor It In is a ‘fic I’ve been working for a while that parallels the official show from the moment Kid Math arrives in town. It focuses on Rex’s struggle to adjust to this world as a child coming into his superpowers for the first time (Y’know, the whole “superheroes don’t have powers when they’re on their home planets” thing), his struggle to adapt to the social world of a non-logical planet, and Becky’s struggle to help him become accustomed to Earth and learn to share it with her as well. If the episode “Kid Math” was a full-length novel about Rex’s arrival and character development, that’s what this story is. This is the highest priority of all my non-FOP ‘fics... I’ve had a cover image made for 6 months and even though I tried setting it aside, I’ve always been super inspired to write for it. If I felt like it would be a good idea to commit to weekly updates alongside my FOP updates, I would, haha.

- I have two one-shot WIPs called “Squishy Feelings” and “A Little Ambiguity”, one of them focusing on Becky and Rex talking about the events of “Rhyme and Reason” and what it means for Rex’s secret identity, and the latter being a future ‘fic showing WordGirl and Kid Math dealing with life 10 to 15 years down the road. I’ll probably post the latter, not sure yet on the former.

- If desired, I may make a WordGirl specific sideblog where I post lore, answer Asks, post character profiles [smaller than my FOP sideblog ones], and mention fanfic updates. If you would be interested in this, feel free to send me an Ask requesting I do this. If there’s not interest, I’ll just keep my WordGirl stuff on the main blog.

- I’d like to get more involved in the WordGirl community, so I’ll probably post more content and reblog more art and headcanons

I also have a handful of miscellaneous ideas I might follow through with. I’d like to write at least one “TUFF Puppy” fanfic so I can say I did. In a perfect world I would like to finish the two “Danny Phantom” and “Bunsen Is a Beast” fanfics I started because... I just kind of want to dip my toe in each of the Hartman shows once since I already went through all the effort of worldbuilding for them to make them canon in a single Hartman show universe. “ChalkZone” is another show I adore and might touch someday (You may recall I have a full outline planned for an FOP/ChalkZone crossover ‘fic called “Dust to Dust”).

Will I write all of these things? Maybe not. I have no idea if I want to spend the next 10+ years writing fanfics, or if I’ll simply be done with all misc. fanfics immediately once I decide to be done with my main ‘fics. I definitely intend to write for a few more years and finish my main ‘fics, but I might not go through with some less popular side ‘fics if life is getting busy for me.

===

What is the posting schedule for FOP ‘fics?

Reedfilter Rules, Frayed Knots, Origin of the Pixies, the 130 Prompts project, and “Come What May” are all high priority FOP writings. I will swap between them depending on my mood that week.

Here are some other ‘fics I want to work on.

- If you like, you can send me Asks requesting I work on a specific story above the rest. I will try to prioritize whichever stories interest you guys most.

Snips and Snails is a ‘fic I started and posted the first chapter for years ago. I’m not sure when I will get back to it, as I ran into some writer’s block. It’s still on tentative hiatus for now..... Possibly forever, though I hope it isn’t forever since it’s only supposed to be, like, five more chapters.

Pink and Gray is on official hiatus. I actually have a lot written for it, but I know it’s a little weird to put so much time and energy into Gary and Betty content when... well, let’s be honest: they’re my niche favorites and most of you probably don’t care. So, I am lifting my usual “no spoilers” policy from my Ask Box. If you would like to ask about my Gary and Betty backstory headcanons, feel free. I will tag my replies as “ridwriting spoilers” for anyone who wants to blacklist the tag, and spoilers will be hidden under a Read More line. 

I’d like to return to this story someday because there are tons of things I like about it (ranging from Betty’s secret tattoos to Gary’s plot drama with his mom to the background drama between Talon and Anti-Cosmo, but I always feel immense pressure to make it extra cool to make up for the fact these are weird side characters, so... it’s officially at the bottom of the priority pile. Once Talon shows up in Frayed Knots and readers understand who he is and why he exists, I’ll consider coming back to it.

Identity Theft is a story about Foop and his time in the alternate dimension he was flung into following the episode “Playdate of Doom.” To put it short, Foop was abused by alternate versions of his parents in this dimension and he witnessed some pretty intense stuff, including the death of the alt version of himself who existed in that reality. The trauma he experienced resulted in his alternate personality, Hiccup. Foop himself has very few memories of what happened, as Hiccup has all of those memories. This story is canon in my works, and it is regularly referred to during the 130 Prompts as part of Foop’s backstory. It’s my highest priority side story to work on.

Along the Cherry Lane is a 20-chapter work focusing on the lives of the main human cast from age 11 to age 30, with one chapter showing a snippet of their lives each year. You see Timmy raising Tommy and Tammy in this ‘fic, and it ends with them receiving godparents. Since the 130 Prompts don’t give humans much attention, this ‘fic does. You’ll probably see it debut two years from now, closer to when the 130 Prompts is ready to talk more about humans.

If this becomes a popular ‘fic of mine, I’ll probably write a sequel or continue it past Chapter 30 and write about Tammy and Tommy living with fairies, but I won’t if there’s no interest in that.

Little Imperfections is a Pixie AU ‘fic of mine about what life would be like in a universe where the Fairies are even more like insects than I play them as during my main works (where I already play them as semi-similar to insects). In this world, the Head Pixie is a figurehead whose duty is to reproduce for the sake of the colony and do nothing else, and he’s bored out of his mind until he befriends Sanderson, who introduces him to music. It’s extremely self-indulgent and silly because I like Pixies.

Francis is a multi-chapter ‘fic about bully Francis’s life getting yet another fairy godparent in a long string of memory wipes and godparents. It takes place during the canon series, and when you see an “orange fairy” mentioned in some of my writings, it’s usually referring to this fairy. His name is Rover and I occasionally post art of him. I feel like I can’t truly call myself an FOP fanfic writer until I actually write about a godkid and their godparents, haha...

Hawthorn Haven is a side ‘fic that will be posted towards the end of the 130 Prompts, as it veers off from the prompts in its own self-contained multi-chapter story. It will be approximately the length of “Baby, You’re a Rich Man.”

Acacia Arcadia is a far-past ‘fic detailing the fall of the ancient fae, the imprisonment of the nature spirits, the rise and fall of the chimera nation, the fall of the Martian genies, and the early days of the cloudlands. This is close to the bottom of the priority pile... It’s something I spend time on for personal reference to ensure accuracy in my other ‘fics, but it’s probably not what you guys came here to read.

AA has a bunch of characters in it that you might vaguely recognize, such as Ezekiel Whimsifinado, Evadne, Ione, Two Feathers, Rho, and Sablewood (If you’re astute, you might recall cloudland legends and landmarks in modern day that refer back to these characters). There are also a lot of characters who were reincarnated as Anti-Fairies, in accordance to traditional Anti-Fairy beliefs; Foop for example exists as a main character in one of his past lives, and you’ll see a hint dropped about each of his lives in the first chapter of Identity Theft. My tentative plan is to use Foop’s past lives as my central characters, following the events of each part of the timeline until he gets killed and reincarnates at a later point of the timeline.

I also keep some one-shots in a file I call Mixed Nuts and I may possibly post them someday (they’re mostly just one-shots of main cast characters I do to get a feel for their personalities, I have some Wanda and Cupid in here). @zachbrightside and I are also working on a collab ‘fic called Like a House On Fire that shows more of Timmy and Chloe’s lives during Season 10 (especially around the time of “Which Is Wish?”) No news on a release date for that yet.

-

As I’ve said before, once all my other FOP works are complete, I will write Devil’s Backbone, which is my far-future ‘fic and the finale of my FOP writing. I do not plan to write any more FOP content after that story is finished, as I expect to have all other FOP projects done by then.

- Devil’s Backbone is a finale 'fic, so all worldbuilding from all stories is fair game to blend together, and it’s highly recommended you read everything else first. This story has been outlined since 2016, and it might not be published for another 10 years... Who knows! But it’s something I always work towards as a concrete endgame goal.

- If something serious comes up in my life and I officially decide I don’t want to write this story, I will post the outline for it. The link to this draft is included with all the other Google Docs links I have in a far-future queued post unveiling my WIPs in case I unexpectedly die and you still want to know how my stories would have gone, so you’ll get access to this story eventually even if I die young. Yes, share access is turned on for them all and I do take extra careful measures to be sure that post doesn’t get posted early skldfj

===

What is the plan for the main blog?

Every Friday, I will post either a fanfic chapter or a progress update. You can blacklist the tag “ridlife” if you do not want to see the progress updates on your dashboard. Fanfic updates will not have the “ridlife” tag, so you will not be blocking them.

During the rest of the week, I might post doodles, reblogs, or general comments. Basically... you’ll see the blog become active again. Feel free to send in Asks about my worldbuilding and thoughts on fanfic characters.

@fountainpenguin is my personal blog, so you will see non-fandom things on here sometimes

@riddledeep is my FOP-exclusive sideblog. It contains all my lore notes and goes into a ton of depth, more than my fanfics give in one breath

===

What does this mean for the Riddledeep sideblog?

I really want to go back and edit those character profiles that were posted early by mistake. The reason they were queued is because if I turned them into drafts, they would have been buried all the way at the beginning of my draft collection, and I have many, many drafts saved. There are no page numbers to navigate quickly through the draft collection, so I would have to click through each page one by one if I ever wanted to look at them. I hated doing this, which is why I kept my posts queued.

I was regularly updating the queue deadlines, trying to keep things in the order I wanted to post them in, but Tumblr made a change to the way drafts are dated and it kept throwing off my system. My inability to remember when my queued things would post combined with my busy schedule led to some profiles being posted early and incomplete. I want to fix these.

Over a year ago, my good friend Vulpix150 helped me finalize my designs for the Aos Sí and Daoine Sith. I’ve been sitting on that art in secret for a while, and at some point I plan to post it on the sideblog and talk more about that lore.

Updating fanfics is my higher priority (and it was the priority my followers voted for when I asked you to send votes to my Ask Box a while back). So, I will usually spend my free time working on fanfics unless I need a break from them and want to work on sideblog profiles instead. Thank you for your patience!

===

TL;DR

I’m posting fanfics again soon. I’m going to take a more relaxed approach to posting them. I’m going to post more of what I want to post and what I feel motivated to post, not always a main ‘fic update. If I’m not “feeling it” when working on a draft, then I’ll set it aside for a while unless I know my followers and readers have high interest in the next chapter of that story. I always write for me first, but if I know there are other people who care a lot about a story, then of course I want to write it for you too!

I’m going to embrace my decade-long love for WordGirl and post more ‘fics and art or this fandom. I’ve always been a little shy about doing this, but I’m ready to make it an official fandom on my main blog (unless there are lots of requests for WordGirl things to be contained in their own sideblog). I will be posting the first chapter for a ‘fic called Factor It In very soon. Love my easily frustrated alien kiddos having a long day.

I am working on Creature-Crossing stuff too, and will be especially busy in November and December. Updates will be slow for a few months, but I hope to find my groove and a good pace soon.

Each Friday, I will post either a fanfic update or a mention of what I am working on. I will be checking in on Tumblr regularly. Feel free to talk! I much prefer you send messages to my Ask Box, not my private messenger, please <3

===

Is there a specific story of mine you like and want more updates for?

Asks and reviews help me know which ‘fics people are enjoying. I plan to keep writing ‘fics no matter what, but I definitely give more time to the ‘fics that get more attention (and I have been spending so much time writing for Creature-Crossing because that’s where the attention was coming from)

It’s easy to stay motivated and get the next part of a story out soon if I know that people like it. It’s always harder if you feel like people are silently judging you and ignoring your posts. So, let me know what you’re interested in. And if you only leave Likes or Favorites instead of asks and reviews, that’s okay too! Thank you for interacting anyway and enjoying my work.

Thanks for reading!

[marshmallow-phd]

Catching Rain

Part of The Untamed - EXO Wolf Universe

Genre: Wolf!AU

Pairing: Minseok x Reader

Summary: You were more than satisfied with your life. You attended a nice college, had nice friends, a nice boyfriend. That’s what your life was: nice. You weren’t looking for anything more, so what were you to do when this seemingly harmless boy walked into your life and turned your nice little world into one much more dangerous?

Part: 1 I 2 I 3 I 4 I 5 I 6 I 7 I 8 I 9 I 10 I Epilogue

**

You didn’t have any destination in mind, only “away”. Away from the dorms where Willa was sleeping, away from campus where someone else might see you. By your side was your trusted camera. Why you brought it, you weren’t sure. Its not like the two of you were going for a portrait session. You hated those types of shoots anyway. But you felt better with it. The bag was like an anchor, keeping you grounded. If things grew awkward or too silent, you could simply pull out the camera and start shooting. A handy distraction.

For the first few blocks, Minseok walked half a step behind you. Once the campus was merely an outline on the skyline behind, he stopped you with a warm hand on your wrist. It was a gentle tug, nothing forceful or demanding.

“Where are we going?”

You pursed your lips nervously. He hadn’t let go of your wrist and your skin was sparking from the contact. There was an urge to step forward and envelop yourself with him to feel that electricity all over. “You said you wanted to talk.”

“Yeah, I did. But all we’ve done is walk.”

“Just a little further.”

His jaw twitched with the want to argue, but he dropped your wrist and waved for you to continue. Yes, you were simply putting off the actual talking part. He didn’t need to know that. Or he’d already guessed that and was simply allowing it to happen. You were scared of what might come out of your mouth if your feet stopped. But you couldn’t walk the earth forever. When a line of trees came into view, you sighed silently in your head. There. That would be the place to talk. You beelined for the forest, Minseok hurrying to catch up. You went in just deep enough to be invisible to the city.

“Okay,” you said as you turned around. “Talk.”

Minseok looked taken aback by your sudden attack. “I… um, I just….” He finished off with a sigh that blew up his rounded cheeks. When he didn’t continue, you pulled out your camera and snapped a picture of him. He blinked at the sudden flash. “What was that for?”

You shrugged. “You weren’t doing anything else.”

You continue to take pictures of nothing. It felt wrong to not actually think about what you were capturing, but it was all an act. You needed to be doing something so you didn’t spiral into an interrogation. By it’s own will, your camera turned to Minseok and snapped another candid.

“Are you going to keep doing that?” You could tell he wasn’t used to being the subject of a photo. He’d shoved his hands in his pockets and looked off to side, only giving you profile.

“Yup,” you answered gleefully, snapping another picture. “At least until you tell me what you wanted to talk about.” Now you got a slight smile. He moved back to face you fully and reached out for the camera.

“Come on. That’s not fair.”

You easily evaded him. “No, what’s not fair is showing up randomly at my dorm and saying you need to talk and then not saying anything.”

“Okay, that’s fair.” You took another picture. He pounced again. You dodge again. So, he mixed up his strategy. Instead of going for the camera, he went for your waist. That, you couldn’t dodge and the two of you crashed down on the grass below. The camera flew from your fingers and a horror ran through you at the thought of it being damaged. Being the hero with incredible reflexes, Minseok caught it safely in his palm. The strap swung calmly in the breeze, unaware of what almost was.

“Oh, thank god.” You tried to take back from him, but he held it out of reach. The position the two of you were in gave him the advantage. So close was his face that you could feel his quick, shallow breath against your nose. Everything stopped. No longer could you hear the soft rustling of the leaves or the distance hums of car engines. Only Minseok was in focus as the two of you lied on the forest floor, mere feet from the city but so far away at the same time.

“(y/n), I….” His voice came out scared, unsure. He frowned and looked away like he was chasing after the words he wanted to say. Finally, he caught up with them. “What I wanted to say was... I… like you.”

Your breath halted in your throat. When the tension was unspoken, it was safe. But with his confession you were now forced to examine that fork in the road. It terrified you. Making the wrong decision terrified you. If only you could have avoided it forever. A luxury that never existed. “Minseok, I-”

“I know we haven’t known each other long,” he said, cutting you off. “And I know you have a boyfriend, but I just had to say… something.” It didn’t feel like the end of what he wanted to say, but nothing else came out.

You left his words hang in the tiny space between you and him. I like you, too. That’s what you wanted to say. He’d been brave enough to tell you and yet, you were a coward. In your silence, he lifted his hand and brushed away a blade of grass from your cheek. The electricity that you should have expected still stunned you. How could he transfer so much energy with the slightest of touches? It was only the tips of his fingers, but your whole cheek was aflame.

Minseok’s eyes flickered down to the bottom half of your face, to your lips. He snuck another peek at you as if asking for permission before looking down once again, leaning in closer. And you let him. You let him come closer at a snail’s pace. He was giving you time to pull away. But you didn’t want to. How many times had you accidentally found yourself fantasizing about a moment like this? Far too many. You’d asked yourself if his lips would be soft, if they would be warm and gentle. Now you could find out.

But it was spoiled by circumstances. You couldn’t do this. Not now.

At the last second, you pulled away, standing. “I have to go.”

“(y/n)-”

You grabbed your camera and shoved back into its bag. “Good night, Minseok.”

“At least let me see you back to your dorm. It’s dark out and-”

“I’ll be fine.” You ran out back into the city, back to reality, not giving him the chance further a logical argument. You needed to get away before you turned around and found the answers, right or wrong.

The whole way home you beat yourself. Leaving with him in the first place was wrong. It seemed you were constantly making the wrong decision these days. Back at the dorm, you quietly slipped into your room, careful not to wake Willa. It didn’t work.

“(y/n)?”

“Yeah, its just me,” you whispered. “Go back to sleep.”

“M-kay.” In the dark you could barely make out the lump on her bed flipping over.

As you headed for your own mattress, you stripped off your clothes and blindly felt for the t-shirt you typically slept in. Under the covers, you lied there, staring at the wall. A single tear fell down your cheek. You stopped it in its track. It stayed on the tip of your middle finger as you brought it out in front of you. Great. Now you were crying.

What the hell were you going to do?

**

Minseok was unable to move. He couldn’t comprehend what had just happened. It had all gone so quick. First he was silent, then he was speaking words and almost kissing you. His confession – if it could be called that – hadn’t done any good. It was stupid to go about it in this manner.

He’d wanted to tell you everything and all he gave you was a small sliver of the truth. The word “like” was an understatement. Mate or not, he was falling in love with you. He was fascinated with the way your mind worked, like an artist’s. It was so different than his more analytical nature. The way you smiled, the way you laughed. To him, those sights and sounds that belonged only to you made him feel like he’d been living in an isolated cave his whole life and was only now coming out to discover the surface.

Grabbing a fist full of grass, Minseok threw the blades into the air in front of him. The anger still didn’t dissipate. He fell back, his head hitting the dirt with a thunk. The pain was easy to ignore. His focus was completely on how stupid he was. How stupid this whole mate situation was. Maybe Jongdae had the right attitude all along.

No. Minseok wasn’t that bitter about life. Maybe he would have been if his parents had dropped him off at a relative’s house with absolutely no explanation of his heritage, but Minseok grew up in a fun, loving home. He was raised to be optimistic.

Sitting up, Minseok sighed. He wondered if he’d messed the whole thing up. For now, he’d give you space. Even though it felt impossible not to follow his instincts. He didn’t want to come across as desperate as he felt. He just hoped that the two of you could come together, before the consequence came to light.

**

It had been three days and you were still stewing over Minseok’s confession. Your heart went back and forth between being elated and being bogged down with worry and guilt. While Erik sat across from you at the table in the student cafeteria, you clicked through the pictures you’d taken of Minseok that night. A smile subconsciously pulled at the corners of your lips.

“(y/n)?”

Your head snapped up. “Yeah?”

Erik pushed his glasses up his nose. His pen was bouncing off his textbook. Thunk-thunk-thunk-thunk. “Are you okay? You seem distracted lately.”

You feigned ignorance. “I’m always distracted.”

“This is different. I feel like you’re so far away lately. Something’s happened in the past few weeks.”

“Nothing’s happened!” Because acting defensive always worked. You slid back the chair, the legs scarping against the tile with a high pictured squeal. “I have to go to the bathroom.”

Erik didn’t try to stop you at all. You’d left your things behind so he knew you’d be back. Luck decided to throw you a bone and give you an empty bathroom to sulk in. Letting the water run, you waited until it was freezing before splashing your face. The burst of cold to your skin made you gasp. With a paper towel you dabbed at the water droplets left behind until you felt somewhat dry again. In the movies, a scene like that came with clarity, a decision and an answer sparkling in the mirror as realization hit. No such moment came for you. All you were left with were two wet eyebrows and smeared makeup. Wonderful. Tossing the paper towel into the trash, you left the restroom and headed back to the table.

When you arrived, you couldn’t sit back down.

Erik had your camera. His thumb hit the arrows back and forth. He flipped through the film furiously. It didn’t take a psychic to know which photos he was looking at. “You used to take pictures of me like this.”

“Erik-”

Sighing, he put the camera back down, pushing it gently to your side of the table. “I guess I shouldn’t be too surprised, huh? Freshman relationships don’t usually last as long as ours. It was only a matter of time.”

“No! It’s not like that!”

“If you say it’s not, then I’ll believe you. Everyone’s allowed to have friends. But… you don’t even use the notebook I gave you anyone.”

You flinched back at that comment. “I… lost it. I’m sorry.”

Erik’s reply was a nod. He stood up, gathering his things and putting them into his bag. He started to walk away but paused just as he passed you. “I think we should take a break.”

“A break?”

“For now.”

You collapsed in the chair as soon as he was gone. What a mess you’d made. And you hadn’t even really done anything. Were changing feelings really such a crime? Being here wasn’t giving you any room to think. You needed solitude, space.

The woods.

You were in the car and down the street before you could blink. The road was so familiar by now that you didn’t even remember actually driving. Getting out of the car, you threw your unneeded school supplies in the trunk while keeping some essentials and personals. For good measure, you turned your phone off. You didn’t get great service out here anyway. It was a spin wheel if the call came through or not. So, the trek began.

You pushed your way through the trees in the direction of the clearing. More leaves had fallen since your last visit, leaving a fresh carpet of brown and green for you to walk on. It muffled your steps. The forest sounded quiet today. Hardly any birds chirped and no bunnies came running across your path. The lack of wildlife caused your heart to race. You worried if you’d made a mistake coming here. When the clearing came into view, you stopped.

Near the middle of the field lied the wolf. He was alone. His ears flicked every few seconds or so, possibly picking up on the noises of life around him. But why was he just lying there? It was odd behavior for a wolf. Or, so you figured. Zoology was not your major. Your fingers twitched towards your camera, but you thought better of it. You didn’t know why, but you wanted to simply… watch him. It was calming, being in this wild animal’s presence. He looked so peaceful. You didn’t want to disturb him so you decided to stay on the outskirts.  

Ten minutes went by and the wolf decided he was done. He stood up on all four legs and turned to walk in the direction opposite of you.

Follow him.

You blinked. That reaction came from nowhere. Following a wild animal deeper into the woods was something only a crazy person would do.

Apparently, someone needed to put a jacket on you and call you crazy.

You kept your distance, far back enough to not spook him but still be able to keep him in your line of vision. He walked for what felt like miles. You’d never been in this part of the forest before. Which made this even more of a ridiculous adventure. The only consolation prize was the fact that he didn’t zig zag around, so you had a straight shot back to the clearing. You should be able to make your way back to your car from there. Up head, the tree line broke. It gave way to another clearing, but this one was far larger with two buildings sitting near the center. You stayed back, clinging to one of the last trees for cover as you watched the wolf walk towards the front porch. A familiar looking man stepped out and waived to the wolf. Was he their pet?

No.

The answer was a big, glaring No.

The wolf’s shoulders shivered and rolled. His body morphed like clay until he was no longer on four legs. You gasped.

Minseok.

Both men’s eyes snapped in your direction. You made eye contact with them both, then you turned and ran for your life.

You didn’t make it far. Minseok caught up with you easily.

“(y/n), wait!”

“Stay away from me!”

He did exactly the opposite, tackling you from the back. You both rolled in the leaves as you fought him off.

“Let me go! Don’t touch me!” Your last scream was enough to make him step back. You pushed yourself to your knees. Each breath was a huff as you tried to recover from the sprint. You could feel the fear emanated from your eyes.

Minseok held his hands up as if that would be enough to convince you he was harmless. “I can explain.”

“What are you?” you demanded.

“I’m….” He cringed as he sucked back the word you both knew he was going to say. “I’m a… werewolf.”

“Its you, isn’t?” You pushed yourself up onto shaking legs. All the stories you’d read as a child, all the movies you’d consumed, and all the folklore from around the world told you what kind of creatures werewolves were. “You are the one who killed those campers, aren’t you?”

“No! It was another wolf. A rogue!”

You shook your head. “How am I supposed to believe that? You’re not even supposed to exist! Was this all a game? Lure me into a false sense of security before you ripped me apart?”

“No, (y/n), listen to me!” He was in front of you, hands on your shoulders before you could react. “I. Did not. Kill. Them. And I would never hurt you. There’s a rogue omega around here and we haven’t caught him yet. Please, I’m begging you. Come back to the house with me and I will explain everything.”

“Why do we have to go back to the house?”

“So I can put on some clothes.”

You coughed and shifted your eyes high to the sky. “Oh, right.”

Minseok held his hand out for you to take, but you let it hang there in the air as you passed him. You heard him sigh behind you then his footsteps fell into rhythm with yours.

[universitypenguin]

What happened to u? U okay?

Hello!

First off, thank you for your concern. I appreciate it and I needed it after the past two days. To answer your question - I'm doing great.

I don’t have a lot of context about your question, but I’m guessing your concern is due to my recent blocking spree. A day ago, I went through my followers list and found some minors. I’ve previously seen smut fanfic writers concerned by underage people interacting with their posts. Until I had to block a few of them, I wasn’t aware how uncomfortable it would make me feel.

Since the blocking spree, I've had a lot of thoughts. I'm about to spew them everywhere. You might regret asking me if I was okay. Sorry about that. No one needs to read this whole manifesto about my rollercoaster of emotions the past few days. But in the interest of transparency, I'm posting this very long note.

What I want my readers to know is the following:

Tumblr is both a place for fanfiction and a social media site.

When I interact with followers and write explicit content, I have to be careful about what I'm saying and who I'm saying it to.

I don't intend to block or purge my followers in the future.

As long as I appropriately tag and put warnings on my work, that is adequate protection for my blog. Everything I write containing explicit content is tagged.

However, I won't interact with users who don't have an age stated in their bio.

There have to be boundaries, given the content of my writing. But I've also come around to the realization that I'm not capable of policing every interaction. Tumblr is a public forum. Minors following me makes me uncomfortable. But by the same token, my work is clearly labeled at 18+ and so is my blog.

There's a lot of explicit content out there for minors if you really think about it. In my high school freshman English class we talked about the book "The Color Purple." Believe me, that was explicit and we were only 14. Any minor with a library card and a Google browser can access a lot more intense content than what I write. I hope they're all being safe, but I can't have a melt down blocking spree again.

I'm not a cop, I'm not a parent, and what minors consume is down to them and the adult responsible for them. If I know someone is a minor I'll block them, should I notice they're trying to interact with me. Otherwise, I'm not purging my followers ever again. It's too much drama. I'd rather leave Tumblr than do that twice. I'm tired and I'm starting to work on my post graduate classes, I work full time in a demanding job, I'm in the process of editing my novel, and trying to keep up with my personal life. Quite literally, I don't have time to block. Writing fanfic is supposed to be my fun time. Let's keep it that way.

Due to the fact that some people I blocked were later unblocked after I took a closer look at their blogs, I'm posting a full explanation below. A quick summary is this:

After only writing for three months, I'd amassed 500 followers. On Monday I blocked almost 200 of them. Then I reviewed my block list and editing down some people who were prematurely blocked. [I assume the anon is one of the unblocked who had me disappear from their dash. Sorry!] This blocking thing isn't sustainable. In the future I'll run my blog differently as far as interaction goes in an effort to be responsible.

Continue reading for the saga of:

The Great Blocking Spree and Existential Crisis of an Erotic Fanfic Writer.

The Blocking Spree:

On Monday I realized a thirteen year old was following me and interacting with my work. This creeped me out.

*Commence blocking spree*

Then I realized how daunting my followers list was. I had 500 followers prior to Monday. That day I blocked about 200 people (some of them prematurely - more on that later.) So after the daunting task of trying to assume, to check bios for ages, to review blog content and determine the user's age, I was tired. Today, I even took a moment to reconsider if I wanted to use Tumblr. Because if all this is my responsibility, maybe I don't have the time or dedication to manage it. When I can be chill, I try to be. This attitude also affected by blocking. It contributed to me unblocking people. When I was doing the blocking spree, I'd give people with no age in their bio a fair shot by reviewing their posts.

I blocked some bot accounts, then a bunch of blank blogs, some ambiguous people who very well could be of age. For the first 100 followers I was pretty aggressive. Then my attention span dropped off and I was a bit more ambivalent. I realized I was doing a crappy job of moderating and wondered what the point was.

The point was that the thirteen year old interacting with my work freaked me out. When I found two sixteen year old followers, it pushed me to continue the purge.

So on I go, blocking. I'm so responsible for doing this, right? But my methodology is crap. What is context for being an adult? Someone had posted about budgeting advice. I thought the budgeting advice was too good for it not to have come from an adult. But my father's a financial advisor and to be honest, I could have given that level of advice at fifteen just from osmosis. Someone had pictures of themselves entering their marijuana plants in the Oregon State Fair. Okay, you've got to be over 18. I didn't block them. Someone else complained about their stats professor and I didn't block them. But in retrospect, one of my high school friends got permission to take college level math courses when we were seniors. She was seventeen when she had a stats professor. The thought circles back - what am I accomplishing here? Next, I went back and unblocked someone who ranted about her Tinder matches being 60 year old men. I wondered if their post was even real. I've lied on the internet before. Nonetheless, I persisted and worked through all 500 followers. When I was done I had 312 followers left.

Post Blocking Spree Existential Crisis:

I know that all the blocking in the world can't stop a teenager who wants to read smut fanfic. I'm not much for posting on social media and I'm not used to a lot of anonymous interaction online. Honestly, I got rid of my SM accounts during college when I felt it was wasting my time. This is the first time I've really use a social media site to post content since college. My twitter account is unused, my Instagram is for close personal friends only, and my TikTok is for mindless consumption of cat videos. (I've trained the algorithm to feed me only cat videos, it's great and I highly recommend it.) I don't post on TikTok, so I don't consider it full use, just lurking.

Okay, Alice, get back to the point....

Right, being anonymous on social media. My blocks are a fence and it's based on self identification from the blogs that follow me. I have little faith in underage consumers to out themselves. I have even less faith in their honesty or respect for an adult's boundaries. They're at a stage in life where they want to push the boundaries. Telling them no is all but inviting them in. I did my blocking spree because I was worried about backlash from someone's parents. But what reasonable judge would come after a fanfic writer? Come on. Logical thoughts but me emotional distress was still brewing.

Why I am the one responsible for who clicks the follow button on my blog? I've always clearly identified what I write and tagged my work as smut.

That thought snapped me out of my whirlwind of anxious thoughts. So I started looking into the laws. My regular work involves medicine, not the legal profession, so I was lost. I found some state level laws that made me glad I'd gone on a blocking spree. California and Florida have specific language in their laws about 'providing minors with explicit content.' But what exactly is that? What I researched applied to the following activities: co-writing smut fanfic with other people, sexting, roleplaying and online messaging.

I run a fanfic blog with limited interaction. I've never done an ask. I don't roleplay on here and I don't want to.

The blocks weren't personal. They were partly based on the awareness that Tumblr is an interactive site and a place that's had a problem with child pornography in the past. But I'm not the smut police. I suck at blocking, and I doubt I did a good job of purging my followers list. This is when it hit me that boundaries are only what I can enforce. They've never been about how other people relate to me, only how I relate to them. (Wow. I've never sounded more like my mother in my life...) After this thought, I started considering what actions I ought to take if I wanted to keep posting fanfic on Tumblr.

My Post Blocking Spree Clarity...

It's up to me who I interact with. I don't have to reply to every comment and re-blog, but I'd like to. I'm stuck between wanting to write for everyone and handling interactions on a social media site that's mostly anonymous.

The fact remains: I can't be the smut police because I suck at it.

What I've decided is that I'll make it very clear on my blog that this is an 18+ space where I publish erotic fanfiction. Smut will always be appropriately marked. I'm not going to interact with reviews, re-blogs, and messages from accounts who don't have their age in their profile. I won't include them in my tag list either. The internet is a public forum. Just as with publishing erotica, once it's out there online for download, it's done. As a ghost writer and an author, I don't control who buys my original fiction, which is just as spicy as my fanfiction. (Trust me, it's explicit. I once had a romance editor tell me I should dial it back on the smutty parts of a novel because "it's a lot of sex for a non-erotica market.") The key difference on Tumblr is about interaction. And that's something I can control. I can decide when I reply to other users. What brought me around to this was the realization that even after the blocking spree, I can't review every single like I get. That's an amount of time and mental energy that's beyond me. Just the past two days have been exhausting and sapped my will to write. Which sucks because I need to go write the next chapter of "Restitution" before tomorrow.

I think the reasons I went on the blocking spree are nuanced. The thirteen year old freaked me out. So did the other underaged people who had ages in their bios. But it also relates to my work. In my job I've seen some nasty child abuse cases. Early on in my career, when I was a 23 year old new hire, I was working on an autopsy for a child abuse victim who'd been murdered by their parent. It was so terrible and graphic, I had to ask one of my older colleagues to take the case. This colleague didn't like me. But she took one look at my face and took the file. She closed out the review without a question and never brought it up again to anyone. I was very grateful. Where I used to work (and where this incident took place) was a major city that holds the unfortunate title of being the human trafficking capital of the US. And something I learned working there was that most human trafficking victims go with their captors willingly. In two years at that job, I never saw one who'd been kidnapped from a dark alley like you see on TV. They were all groomed on social media and thought they were escaping their families (who were often overbearing, toxic, or dysfunctional) for a get away with friends. It was a fun adventure with their internet buddies, until it wasn't.

In retrospect, the underage interaction I found on my blog made me react because of what I've been through. The autopsy case kept coming back to me today while I was at work and I've finally untangled my emotions enough to figure out what caused my melt down. When I was blocking, I was feeling an anxious motivation that I know can only stem from the stress I deal with at my job. Don't feel sorry for me about this - I know my work in medicine helps a lot of people and it's a tremendously satisfying career.

Our Saga's Resolution & How I'm Going to Deal With This In The Future...

- - - - -

In post block clarity, I offer this conclusion:

I'm writing on a public forum. My work is appropriately tagged as smut. In the future, I will also use the tag #no minors to help with filtering. I've always asked underage people not to interact. And on a public forum, what more can I reasonably do? Going forward I will only interact with those who have their age posted in their bio. But blocking sprees and policing every interaction isn't feasible.

I'll review how I'm going to run my tag lists as well. I need to think it over and let my followers know my decision as to if I'll continue using them. Because tagging is definitely interaction and my current tag list was not screened at all. *face palm*

Finally, to my readers who have blank blogs or don't have an age listed. I respect your right to privacy and I'm careful with my personal information as well. But I've also had an uncomfortable two days. If you've lasted through this venting session until now, you must understand that I'm upset by underage interaction. I'm setting my own boundaries and going forward, I'll own my side of the internet. No interaction from me, unless I know your age. Full stop - no exceptions. I think it is reasonable for me to suggest that you leave something on your blog that signifies you are not a minor, whatever that may be. Someone who I didn't block that stands out in my memory had a bio that said "90s baby." It was simple, direct, and left no doubt they were over 18. No age reveal and not even a name. If you put something like this on your blog it'll help explicit content creators feel more comfortable about their interactions.

I went on a spree this Monday and I admit to being heavy handed and aggressive about pruning followers. I had an emotional reaction due to work stress and I didn't think things through logically. I'm relieved for the chance explain myself and set new boundaries that I'm capable of sticking to in the future. But remember - the block button is on my side of the screen. At the end of the day, you might be unhappy with me for the block, but it's my button, it's my blog, and I'll use it as I see fit.

Thank you for reading.

[kenmasgameboy]

【ｒｅａｃｈｉｎｇ】

an oikawa x seijoh president!reader

oikawa toru has so many girls falling at his feet, but it wasn’t always like this. when y/n met him there was no one yet to inflate his ego, when he was pure to himself, the person he is when it isn’t performative. she fell in love. after forcing a rejection from him, where he says he never saw her as a girl, she’s determined to become the absolute perfect girl for every one except him.

profiles: [ student council ] [ on the block ]

masterlist

listen to the mixtape while you read

↬ entry #1: age 6 ➺ chapter 1: age 18  ➺ next

age 18:

𝕚. different now

MAKE SURE TO READ THE WRITTEN PORTION BELOW THE CUT

Your hands felt like they were surely going to fall off at any moment. You never really did get used to being in front of big crowds like this. Even last year when you had to give your first speech as a presidential candidate to the school you wanted to burst into flames. Your hands always did this thing when you were nervous, ever since you were little they’d become so gross and clammy. You hated that about yourself. What a weak give away.

The principal was just beginning the ceremony, and you waited outside in the hallway until it was closer to your turn to speak, pacing back and forth you stared out the window. The mid day yellow light peaking through the large trees in front of Seijoh’s campus. You really loved these trees, they would always shake and rustle in new ways everyday, reminding you of ways that you could stand your ground but continue to change in your own way. Some seasons shedding yourself completely bare and growing a new color, or a new branch, breaking them off as you went.

Today, even the trees that normally would be there to offer you a quiet calmness didn’t help you today. Your body still succumbing to its stage fright. This was your first appearance as Aoba Johsai School President to your student body that you represented, you needed a perfect impression. You needed to be perfect. The more you thought about it the jitters in your hands only increased, you tried to loosen the tightness, shaking them from your wrist downwards in hopes they would just fall off. You always did this before volleyball games and it never failed you. You only stopped your nasty habit when you heard rapid footsteps coming in your direction.

“Hey, there you are. I’ve been looking for you everywhere.” Sora’s voice carried down the hallway. Your vice president had been looking for you. His chest heaved in breaths to try to regulate his body after running around.

“Sorry. I’ll be inside in a second, I just—” You said, pulling your hands behind your back to hide them. But it was too late.

“Are you nervous? Why? Everyone already loves you it’s not like they’ll change their minds now.” Sora said it lightheartedly, but there was a pressure that sat on your shoulders when he said it. An extra weight of expectation.

“Don’t say that.” You shrugged off the compliment, thinking about one face in particular. You groaned at the way he still had an effect on you. You thought of Toru’s eyes, “Not everyone.”

“Maybe not. You’re right, I can’t speak for everyone.” Sora smiled softly, “But as your Vice, I can speak for you. And I know you’ll be perfectly fine up there. I have full confidence. If you start stuttering, just take a second and keep going. We practiced this morning, right?”

“Right.” You nodded, your throat suddenly becoming overwhelmingly dry. “I know, I just have a lot on my plate today, there’s too much I’m not looking forward to.”

“Then let’s check one thing off, right? Let’s go out there.” Sora said, he grabbed your hand in his tugging you along. You weren’t ready, he wasn’t listening to you yet. But maybe he was right, you did need to be out there sooner than later. Still, you needed a few moments to collect yourself, to dampen your hands, something.

“Then let’s check one thing off, right? Let’s go out there.” Sora said, he grabbed your hand in his tugging you along. You weren’t ready, he wasn’t listening to you yet. But maybe he was right, you did need to be out there sooner than later. Still, you needed a few moments to collect yourself, to dampen your hands, something.

You couldn’t say anything, You became paralyzed in place as you looked at the back of Sora’s head. Your legs felt numb as they carried you in stride behind him down the hallway. His hand holding yours, it reminded you of someone again. Seeing him again this morning in class must’ve resurged these memories you pushed away as nothing. This was different, this wasn’t him. The back of Sora’s head was shiny and straight. His blond hair didn’t bounce, and he didn’t look back to smile at you. There was a sinking feeling in your stomach, it didn’t feel like nerves or anything like that. It felt like a settlement.

Your eyes ended up drifting off to the right, only slightly enough to catch the eyes that were more familiar than you remembered. His hair looking darker than when you were young, but it shined all the same. He still shined, even when he wasn’t smiling at you. Your eyes followed each other. The moment slowing down to make your first dose of eye contact in 2 years a dangerous and addictive cocktail.

Your hands were still sweaty, still nervous and shaking. It broke away from the confines of Sora’s palm. You need to grip them tighter when she’s nervous. The boy who stood innocently by the restroom found himself offering silent advice in his head. Toru couldn’t take his eyes away from the light that poured between the gap of You and Sora’s palms. It’s like he saw an opening, illuminating his opportunity and his body.

For the first time in ages, he felt the nostalgic need to grab those familiar sweaty palms. For a second he thought you’d stay with him, stay back and ask what he was doing in the hallway by the boys bathroom and not by your side? Why did he waste so much time? Did he think you were more beautiful today than every day he’s seen you before? He needed you to ask him those questions. 

His daydream was over in a second, once your face contorted from the hopeful surprise of someone who used to calm you into a disappointed grimace of remembering the hurt he had caused you that erased everything from before. You kept jogging behind Sora, no words were exchanged. You didn’t need to say anything to Toru, he heard you loud and clear.

“I hope you regret it. I hope you regret everything. I’ll never trust you like that again, not really.”

To him, this was a challenge worthy of taking. The time to change it all was now.

***

       【ｆｕｎ　ｆａｃｔｓ】

➺ Michi was late to the student arrival because she was slipping a love letter in Oikawa’s shoe locker. He didn’t even see it that day.

➺ Ito has really never spoken to y/n except she held the door open for him one day, he took that as she’s in love with him and too scared to tell him.

➺ Ito approached Matsukawa, Hanamaki, Iwaizumi, and Oikawa when all four were together. It was actually Oikawa who told Ito he had no chance in hell with y/n. the exact words he used was “she’s not just going to fall in love with someone who’s never cared enough to get to know her first before saying something like that. theres no way in hell you’d have a chance with a girl like her.”

➺ the other three just kind of stood there agreeing but also like “.__, tough talk coming from you, Oikawa”

➺ y/n has been starting libero since her first year, despite debating dropping volleyball in high school she decided this would look great to universities that she was involved with more than just student council. she still was invited to girls Japan youth camp for her achievements as an athlete. regardless, she still knew her real reasons were that it was the last piece of something he gave her.

➺ unlike oikawa, y/n hasn’t even thought about dating anyone in high school. she’s been single her whole life despite getting a fair amount of confessions in her time.

➺ y/n also follows oikawa on a fake account.

taglist: @chibishae34 @bby-bokuto @shittykawaa @1-800-schmacked @artsamber @berriesii @bbyazu @roseestuosity @gaytoasterstrudels @mirdy47707 @trippy-kitty @iwanttogotopluto @hvneymun @a-listaire @princessmidas @glyxiebear @akaashiwife @anejuuuuoy @kiyoojima @deimmortales99 @unstableye @sugawarabby @haikyuufairy @ashaite @bettys-other-shoe @defchamseoul @honeymoneyy​ @animatedrapture​ @alexthe80swhore​ @nellieleverlin​ @forhyunryu​ @thosenerdy3amthings​ @mariachiii​ @dishonestkilla​ 

reply with a comment or send an ask to be aded to the taglist!! if your name is crossed off it’s because i couldn’t tag you, let me know if you’ve changed your username!

a/n: wOW what a doOZY of a long first chapter, they all won’t be this long but i felt like i had a lot to set up. Let me know what you guys thought!!! i hope this guys got you a bit more hyped for this story! more to come!

[etherrealoblivion]

Chapter Nine: Wanna Bet?

Table of Contents

Fic summary: Owning a bookstore in downtown D.C. came with its fair share of downsides. You never thought that being the target of a serial killer would be one of them. Luckily, a nice FBI agent by the name of Spencer Reid is assigned to watch over you. What's the worst that could happen?

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader

Words: 1,713

Content Warnings: Risque content. Alcohol. ;;))

MASTERLIST

~

The man’s name was Benicio “Benny” Sallow. He worked at a seven-eleven near the restaurant. He had seen you and Spencer leave the restaurant, clocked out, and followed you for a few blocks with the intent to steal your purse and his wallet. Apparently, he wasn’t even planning on injuring you, just using the knife as leverage. 

So the killer was still out there, presumably keeping very close by, according to Spencer. It took you a while to explain why that didn’t make you feel any better.

The day after the incident, you’d had to go back to Quantico to be briefed. It was getting tiring having to go back and forth all the time. But you supposed it was good to be kept in the loop.

Now, you were confined to your apartment 24/7. Groceries now had to be delivered, Spencer answering the door each time, gun in hand, exchanging a verbal password with the delivery person.

Sure, it was safer, but the danger felt even more real now. Luckily, your protector was taking extreme measures to keep you distracted.

“Now throw it!” he shouted, prompting you to chuck the pillow towards the empty trash can, now on the third round of a game Spencer had dubbed “pillowball”. 

It landed just shy of the basket and you groaned as Spencer laughed.

“Oh, I’d like to see you do better, glasses,” you teased, shoving him another pillow.

“I don’t even wear glasses anymore!”

“Just throw the pillow, dork.”

He reared back, squinting, looking all around. You had to stifle a laugh as you pictured little mathematical equations floating through the air around his head.

And he threw the pillow, soaring through the air towards the basket and . . .

. . . landed on a shelf just above the basket, knocking over a broom.

“Ha!” you jumped on the couch, jostling the broom. “Might wanna get your eyes checked again.”

“Sure about that?” he said, a little too cocky.

Your face fell, looking at the pillow. As you had sat on the couch, you’d made the broom hit the wall, making the shelf move, tipping over a large book that bumped the pillow. It fell forward and landed perfectly in the basket.

Awestruck, you looked at Spencer and he bowed low, shooting you a mischievous look.

“Lucky shot,” you said, forcefully switching your facial expression to an unimpressed one.

“Oh come on!” he whined, sitting across from you on the couch. “That was cool, don’t deny it.”

“There was no way you could’ve known I was gonna sit and knock the broom!”

“Couldn’t I have?”

“No!”

“You know,” he took the pillow from the basket and turned it over in his hands, “jealousy usually manifests itself in denial.”

“Hey! I am not jealous!”

“I mean even though you’re not capable of a shot like that, there’s no reason to be jealous,” he gave you a sidelong glance, slight smile on his lips.

“Not capable?”

“Well, you aren’t!”

“Wanna bet?”

Having to prove him wrong, you snatched up your pillow and went back to the doorway.

“Bet? Y/N, I’m from Vegas. I never lose a bet. You might want to think twice about that challenge.”

“If I don’t make this shot, I’ll watch that five-hour long movie that you won’t stop talking about.”

All of the cockiness was wiped from Spencer’s face.

“You’ll watch Solaris with me?”

“If I fail this shot, I will,” you said, smiling at the fact that he’d added ‘with me’ to the odds. 

“What if you make it?”

A wicked smile spread across your face.

“If I make it, we pop open the 20 year Jim Beam I've got in the cabinet.”

Spencer unconsciously glanced at the kitchen cupboard, then shook his head.

“I really don’t think that’s a good idea, Y/N. Becoming intoxicated could lower inhibitions, making us less aware of—“

“—so you admit it’s a possibility I make the shot?”

He opened his mouth, hesitated, then closed it, shooting you a frustrated look.

You held out your hand for him to shake, knowing he despised handshakes.

“C’mon, Mister Vegas. I thought you never lose a bet?”

His eyebrows twitched but the hint of a smile ghosted over his face.

“Deal,” he said, shaking your hand, only slightly twitching at the contact. 

Sparing a quick glance at the ceiling, then the clock, you threw the pillow towards the basket, but it missed, landing just to the right on the arm of the couch.

Spencer beamed. 

“Oh, well. I hope your study for that linguistics doctorate involves Russian. Great try, but like I said, I never lose.”

You cocked your head.

“Sure about that?”

A whirring noise caught his attention, turning towards the air vent right over the bedroom door. The gust caught the pillow and pushed it forward, making it land right in the basket. Spencer’s jaw dropped.

“Landlord always clicks on the A.C. at 8:25 on the dot.”

As you bragged, you walked over to the kitchen cabinet, standing on your toes to reach the bottle of bourbon and bringing it back to the couch where Spencer sat.

“How . . .”

“Face it, Vegas, you lost. Now, drink up!”

You took a swig from the bottle and handed it to him. 

“We really shouldn’t—“

“Spencer.” All joking gone from your tone, you stared at him, silently begging. “Please. I need to feel . . . something else.”

Waiting a moment to speak, presumably going through possible outcomes and scenarios in his head, he finally sighed and took the bottle from you, pressing it to his lips and drinking.

As expected though, he proceeded to cough heavily, handing the bottle back to you.

“Jeez! You made it look so easy.”

You laughed, taking another drink.

“Years of practice.”

“Years?”

Shit. He definitely knew you weren’t that far from drinking age, making the word years rather compromising.

“Not years per se.”

“Uh-huh,” he said sarcastically, taking the bottle from you and downing the smallest sip so as not to cough. “You know, alcohol might actually help you get through Solaris. If we’re going to be living together for a while I will make you watch it.”

You paused, trying to clock what he meant by ‘living together’.

“I am not watching that movie willingly. How ‘bout double or nothing?”

Intrigued, he watched you carefully, moving to sit on his legs.

“Go on. . . .”

You smiled, getting more comfortable on the couch.

“I’m gonna make an assumption, and if it’s true, you drink. If it’s not, I drink.”

“Is that a Game of Thrones reference?” 

Shocked, you nodded.

“Doctor Reid, I’m surprised.” Then, thinking about his love for Doctor Who, Doyle, and strange sci-fi films like Solaris, you figured you should have seen this coming. “Actually, not all that surprised. So yes! It is a Game of Thrones reference and I’m gonna wipe the floor with you.”

“I think you’re forgetting, I’m an FBI profiler. It’s my job to read people.”

“So you accept my challenge?” You jumped up, grabbed two glasses, and sat back down, pouring the bourbon into each glass evenly, handing one to Spencer.

After thinking a moment, he took the glass and said, “I do. Provided I get to go first.”

You nodded, gesturing for him to go.

“You . . . have a complicated relationship with your parents.”

Scoffing, you said, “Seriously? Everyone has a complicated relationship with their parents! Thought you were a big shot profiler.” And you took a small sip.

“I’m starting off easy,” he said, reclining a bit more and stretching out his legs towards you. “Your go.”

“You . . . you were bullied in high school.”

He shrugged and took a drink.

“You don’t join the FBI without some childhood trauma,” he said it so casually but there was something more in his tone that he couldn’t hide. That no one could.

“My turn,” he said, pulling you away from your thoughts. Right. That was the goal of all this. Distraction.

“Go,” you said, sitting up and moving a bit closer.

“So,” he said, gazing around your apartment and swirling the liquid in his glass, “there’s no photographs in your apartment, at least none that I’ve seen. But you’re not unsentimental judging by your attachment to the locket that was stolen from you. So you just don’t have any photographs to hang up.”

“I’m not hearing an assumption, Doctor.”

“You don’t have a lot of friends. Probably only a few close ones that you rarely get to see.”

Normally, if someone commented on your lack of friends, you’d lash out and walk away, probably calling them various unkind names. But when Spencer said it, there wasn’t any judgment. Only sympathy. Like he knew exactly what not having a lot of friends felt like.

It was true, you didn’t have a lot of friends. The only person you really considered to be a friend was Steve, and you hadn’t spoken to him in weeks. You wondered if he was worried about you suddenly cutting off contact, staying home from school and work. You wondered if he even noticed.

So you took a sip, smiling sadly at Spencer. And he smiled back. Neither of you had to say anything else about it.

“Alright, get ready to get drunk.” 

He snorted at you, alcohol starting to affect him.

“Guess away, I’m an open book.”

“You, Spencer Reid,” he laughed a little when you said his name, dropping his head to the back of the couch. “You . . . cannot handle your alcohol.”

He giggled, raising his glass to his lips but you stopped him.

“Ah! That wasn’t my assumption. I was just making an astute observation. Now, as I was saying. My assumption is . . . you are a virgin.”

He was struck, clearly not expecting such a personal guess. You waited for him to drink, but instead he just stared at you. Then, he blushed, looking away and rubbing the back of his neck, still not making any move to drink.

Aw. Maybe you’d crossed a line. Maybe he was embarrassed by the fact that—

Wait. 

He still wasn’t drinking, just looking at you sheepishly, like he was waiting for something.

Waiting for you to drink.

So you did, keeping eye-contact with him the whole time, watching as he fidgeted nervously.

Your assumption had been wrong. Interesting.

~

A/N:  ;)

~

@aperrywilliams @mjloveskids666 @dolanfivsosxox @criesinreid @fanficsrmylife @racerparker @sammypotato67 @lukeskisses @reidcrimes @you-had-me-at-hello-dear @l0ve-0f-my-life @thatsonezesty13​ @yourmisosoup @queenofthebees003 @pinkdiamond1016 @eu-solidao

[impalaimagining]

Fire & Rescue [2]

EMT!Jensen, Fireman!Jared, Reader

1,796 words

Warnings: angst, attempted assault, protective!J2

Written for Lindsey Wilburn as the first part of her second Shotgun Rider series on Patreon!

Series Masterlist - Masterlist

You got the rundown of the situation, found the locker with your first initial and last name on it, and stuffed your bag into it before you heard someone huff behind you.

“Wha-” You spun and found yourself face to face with four guys, a little older than you.

“Oh, don’t mind us.” One of them smirked and raked his eyes up and down your body. “We’re just,” he licked his lips and finally met your eyes again, “lookin’ around.”

You shuddered under his gaze and stepped back. “I’m, uh - I’m gonna go find Jensen.”

He caged you in, leaning his arms against the locker beside yours. “I think you should spend some time with us other first-dayers.”

“I - I’m good.” You forced a tight smile and attempted to push past him. “Thanks.” Your opportunity to side-step him was lost as he blocked you in, stepping into your path.

“I said, you’re going to spend some time with us.” He reached up and pushed you back against the lockers, your back bouncing off of them with a shaky metallic clang. His hand moved from your shoulder where he’d shoved you, across your collarbone. His hand stretched until the space between his thumb and index finger was big enough to wrap around your neck.

Before he could close his fingers around your throat, you screamed.

“Son of a bitch.” He clamped his hand over your mouth instead, muffling the sound falling from your lips.

But not before Jared heard it. He was sitting in the lounge, feet kicked up onto the coffee table in front of the black leather couch. When he heard your screech, he straightened up, then sprang from his seat when he caught the way it became almost instantly muffled. Jared darted for the kitchen first, where there were the most outside doors, the most room for access for an intruder, but the kitchen was empty, save for the head of the women’s auxiliary committee cooking for the upcoming bingo night.

He painted on a smile in her direction and flew out of the room. Jared ran into the locker room and saw them, a group of four out of the other six first-dayers surrounding you in a semicircle.

“Back up.” His voice boomed, echoing off of the lockers and empty walls. Their heads turned, whipping around as Jared came closer, towering over most of them. “I said back up.” He seethed, jaw clenched around his words.

The man who seemed to lead the newbie “pack,” whose name you’d later find out was Cory, withdrew his hand, allowing you to gasp in a breath. Tears filled your eyes and you clamped them shut before disappearing into one of the lockable changing stalls. The doors weren’t solid from floor to ceiling, so you could hear every word Jared was saying.

“Don’t ever let me catch any of you near her like this again.” He poked his finger into Cory’s chest. “You hear me?” Cory nodded dumbly, unsure of what he could even say to alleviate the tension. “If I find out any of you touch her, unless you’re doing man-to-man training, you’ll be reported and immediately suspended from the program. Do you understand?” Cory nodded again, and the others mirrored the movement. “Get your bags and get out of here. Consider this the end of your first day.”

After they scurried to collect their things and leave, Jared knocked with a single knuckle on the thin wooden door to the changing room. “Hey, you still in there or did you manage to sneak away while I was kickin’ their asses?” He teased.

You slowly cracked the door and peeked out, making sure it was just him in the room with you. “Thank you.” You spoke softly, unable to look at him. “I can’t believe they-”

“Don’t worry about it. They won’t be bothering you again. And if they do, you come to me.” He pulled the door the rest of the way open and ushered you out, then held the door as you walked back into the lounge with him following close behind. Jared pulled out a chair for you around the huge wooden table in the center of the room, then sat beside you. “You okay?”

You nodded, but Jared raised a brow and you quickly switched to shaking your head. “I don’t want to deal with that for the rest of training.”

“I don’t blame you.” Jared nodded in agreement. “But trust me, you won’t have to deal with it. As soon as I tell Jensen-”

“No!” You reached out and grabbed Jared’s forearm. “No, no, you can’t tell Jensen.”

Jared looked down, seeing your knuckles white with how tightly you were holding onto him. “Why wouldn’t I tell Jensen? He’s the one working with you every day. He’s the one who will see them around you and know if something’s up. He should know.”

“Please don’t tell him.” You pleaded, releasing Jared’s arm. “I don’t want him to think I’m - I can’t stand up for myself and I needed you to swoop in and save me.”

Jared smirked. “To be fair, I did kind of come in like a knight in shining armor.”

With a roll of your eyes, you shoved away from him. “Shut the hell up.”

Jared chuckled, but quickly turned serious. “Jensen should know.” He repeated. “He’s going to be in the field with all of you. He can keep you safe.”

You furrowed your brows. “I don’t need him to keep me safe. I can handle them if they start their shit again. I just - they just caught me off guard in there.”

“They’re lucky you weren’t in the middle of changing or something. I would’ve had them suspended on the spot if you were any kind of indecent in there.” Jared patted your knee and offered you a warm smile. “I’m gonna go see if Janice needs any help in the kitchen, but you just stay in here and take it easy, okay? For as long as you need.”

“Thank you.” You looked up at him as he stood, and he just brushed off the thanks. “No, Jared.” You reached out and caught his wrist in your hand. “Thank you.” You didn’t need to say it, he knew he’d done more than you were letting on.

Jared flipped his wrist and captured your hand, squeezing it gently. “Whatever you need, you just let me know.” He smiled and tightened his grasp on your hand again before letting go and walking into the kitchen.

You spent the better part of your first week riding in the front of the ambulance with Jensen when calls came in. Nothing too serious, just the lower-profile, embarrassing cases that would never see the front page of even a local paper. When you were back at the station, the two of you hung around Jared, mostly, but the other fire guys flitted in and out of the conversations as well.

Friday afternoon, after all of the trainees packed up for the day and headed home, Jared pulled you aside. “How’ve they been?” He asked quietly and nodded in the direction of the guys you’d started with.

“Haven’t even looked at me since Monday.” You shrugged. “I knew I’d be the odd man out because I’m… not a man, but damn.”

“I’m sorry if me stepping in made things worse.” Jared pulled his lips to the side and chewed the inside of his cheek.

You shook your head. “Like I said, I came in expecting being the only not-dude in the program. Not sure I expected all the current EMTs to also be dudes but…”

Jensen made his way over to you and Jared, frowning as he noticed the uncertainty on your face. “Everything okay? Did something happen? Something I should know about?”

Mild panic washed over your features. “Nope, all good.” You blurted before you could quell the anxiousness in your voice.

Jensen raised his brows. “If this doesn’t work out for you, you might want to give acting a shot. That was very convincing.” He licked his lips. “Wanna try again?”

Your eyes darted to Jared. You were certain he would’ve told Jensen, regardless of what you said. “I, um - the other day - Monday, the day we started, the - the guys kind of - um, they trapped me in the locker room and-”

“They what?” His eyes grew wide.

“They - they cornered me and - and Cory pushed me against the locker. He put his hand around my throat and I screamed. I don’t - I don’t know what his plan was, but Jared stepped in and stopped them.” You looked at your feet.

“I… what?” Jensen pinched the bridge of his nose. “I’ll have them suspended. I’ll go to the-”

“No.” You reached out your hands in front of you, waving them frantically. “No, it’s okay. They’ve been… handled.”

“Warned.” Jared clarified with a sly grin. “I took care of it.”

“Thanks.” Jensen gave him a tight smile and a knowing look, and you realized you’d be the topic of their conversation later. “Are you okay? Really? Being around him after all that.”

You gave a single nod. “Gotta be. I can’t let them think they got to me.”

Jensen drew his lips into a thin line and nodded again. “I’ll make sure you don’t have to work with him one-on-one, okay?”

“You don’t have to do that.” You insisted. “I gotta,” you scoffed a laugh, “man up if I’m gonna be around all you guys, right?”

Jensen rolled his eyes. “You don’t have to do anything that makes you uncomfortable. So if you don’t want to work with Cory, you don’t work with Cory. It’s simple. I’ll make sure it doesn’t happen.”

“Yeah.” You gave a small smile. “Sure, thank you.”

“If you need anything else, let me know, okay? When it happens, not four days after the fact.” He raised a stern brow as his hand fell to the ball of your shoulder, and you nodded your understanding.

“Thanks.” You repeated and glanced to the side, watching his fingers tighten around your shoulder. “Thank you.”

Jensen removed his hand from your arm and nodded his head in the direction of your car. “Go ‘head and get out of here. Have a good weekend.”

You stepped back and took a single step in the direction of your car. “Don’t work too much this weekend, yeah?” You threw him a grin over your shoulder. “Gonna need you in tip-top training shape on Monday.”

The corners of Jensen’s mouth perked up in a tiny smile. “That so?”

“Yeah, if you plan on keeping me as safe as you think you’re going to.” You teased with a wink before turning and disappearing to your car.

Part 3

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[binniedeactivated]

saint. || soobin (3.8)

pairing: soobin x reader genre: au word count; 2k

he wished he could’ve walked into that station and looked like a man that day. but that plan immediately failed. his eyes were wet and puffy he could barely speak because he was crying way too hard for his conscience. his vision was slurred and he choked on every word that sputtered from his lips. he places his hands on the desk, sobbing. 

“just arrest me please”. soobin cries. the woman at the front desk was immediately alarmed at his plea. 

“sir is there something I can help you with?”. she says very concerned with the state that he was in.

“the mia howard case--it was me just arrest me I did it”.

with the familiar name the administrator made a quick call to the officers who were dealing on the case. “someone will be here to talk to you in a moment sir”. she promises hoping he’d get the help he needed. a couple of moments later a female officer appears, guiding soobin to a chair behind her desk. 

“what seems to be the problem?”. she says with a furrowing eyebrow. 

soobin palms his face, sobbing into his hands. “just arrest me I was the one who set up mia howard that night”. 

“you’re choi soobin?”. 

soobin nods becoming choked up once again. the officer grabs him a few tissues, “i’m sorry but I can’t help you with that, kid”. 

“what do you m-mean you can’t help me? I’m a horrible person I deserve to be arrested”. 

“mia howard is not pressing charges against you. she didn’t identify you. the case is closed and unavailable for reopening”. 

“s-so what happens next? e-everyone involved is walking away scott free?”. 

the officer shakes her head, “the guys who raped her is still facing time for home invasion and rape”. 

“what about me?”. 

“if the victim is not pressing charges we close the case. after that, there is nothing we can do”. 

“fuck”. 

“hey, regardless of what you claimed you’ve done soobin, you don’t have any charges on your record. i recommend you use this time to turn your life around for the better”. 

she assuringly pats him on the back. soobin sniffles as he stands up in his chair nodding before she guided him out the door. soobin makes a detour on his way home, deciding to go somewhere else instead. he pulled into the driveway of the familiar house and knocked on the door promptly. it opened. 

“hey, who are you?”. 

“are you mia’s mom?”. soobin had asked. she folded her cardigan over. 

“yes who are you?”. 

“I’m choi soobin, someone she goes to school with”,

“listen if this is anymore traumatizing to mia’s health just drop it, please. these officers and all of this questioning is giving her severe anxiety attacks and I just don’t want anymore of it”. 

soobin purses his lips, “I’d like to offer to pay for any medical bills she has”. 

“that’s sweet of you soobin but I can’t let you do that. you’re just a kid and those bills are way too high”. 

“if theres anything I can do to pay mia back for this trauma it’s at least this. I’ll cover all of her medical fees and it won’t leave a dent in my pockets, trust me I can pay them. and if it’s okay my parents know some really good psychiatrists and I’d like to enroll mia into their sessions. I don’t care how long she goes, weeks, months, or even for the rest of her life I’ll pay for it. If there is any medicine she needs I will go out of my way to make sure she gets it”. 

her mother stares at him in awe. she was taken aback by all of this. of course she wasn’t pleased with the fact that soobin had done this to her daughter but she appreciated his efforts to fix it. 

“are you sure?”. 

“yes. I have a checkbook in my car and I’ll talk to my parents tonight for the information about the sessions and enroll mia as soon as possible”. 

her mother hugged him gratefully. the medical bills were eating her alive and she just wanted mia to get better. 

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

his chest ached badly and to make matters worse he was puking from his occasional crying. he was alone. and he hated it. he missed you--god he wished you just give him another chance. he didn’t mean it. but it hurt even more when you made it clear you wanted nothing to do with him. you blocked his phone number and profile on every possible thing he could contact you on. 

“are you puking? what are you pregnant?”. yeonjun insults while he shuts the door behind him. soobin exhales and rubs his face in front of the toilet bowl in the school bathroom. the school was the meeting place for everyone before they took a coach bus to the ski resort. 

“shut the fuck up yeonjun”. 

“we’re about to leave. I shouldn’t even have told you I should’ve let them leave your ass here”.

soobin exhales before coming out of the bathroom stall with a giant hoodie and a hood over his head. “you really have to get a grip”. yeonjun comments. soobin rolls his eyes and exits the bathroom with him. the two grabbed their suitcases and began boarding the bus. the sisters were going over the rules and his heart only wrenched. not only was he sitting alone due to yeonjun finding someone else to sit with. soobin glanced over at you sitting with taehyun. the two of you just talking casually, something he wished he could do with you. he didn’t want to come. he knew he should’ve stayed home but he only attended because you were here.

“I wonder what the cabins look like”. you mutter along the way. 

“I heard they were luxury cabins, like the furnished ones with wifi and all that”. taehyun replies.

“that’s a relief”. 

“did you think we were going to be in a hut or something? it’s cold out there”. 

you laugh a little, “no. i’ve never been skiing though. I’m kind of scared”. 

“it’s like a roller coaster but your skating instead. it’s fun though”.

“I’m going to ski into a tree and embarrass myself”. you whine. taehyun chuckles. “no you won’t. plus if you run into a tree you might be as dumb as you think”. 

“how?”. 

“for watching the tree get closer to you and not moving the hell out of the way”. you laugh again and just accepted yourself as dumb because it was something you’d do. being around taehyun helped control your emotions better. of course you weren’t okay without soobin. you missed him more than anything else but you had to do what was best for you. 

luckily, you were assigned to the same cabin as taehyun and some other kid named kai. it was two stories. there was a kitchen on the same floor as the living room and upstairs were three bedrooms. you weren’t hesitant to call the best one. “it’s mine! fair and square!”. you yelled to a complaining kai and taehyun. 

“you know what, since you’re a girl fine!”. kai exclaimed. 

it was cold at the ski resort and it required you to bundle up way more than you were comfortable with. since the majority of the senior class were adults the sisters allowed them to do things outside of their small activities. the juniors however had curfew and were supervised. you were getting settled in your room until it was time to go to your first activity for the night which was held outside of the cabins. 

through the snow you walked with taehyun to the meeting place. since it was late, the sisters decided that you all would ski tomorrow. in order to get everyone acquainted however they set up an activity where different groups of students would sit around a campfire and chat while drinking hot chocolate. 

it was cold and the warmth of the fire kissed your skin beautifully. but things weren’t too beautiful when you saw soobin coming to sit next to you. you roll your eyes scooting further from him. wondering why he was assigned to the same group as you instead of taehyun. 

the rest of the group was talking amongst each other and having a good time until your assigned instructor arrived.

“i’m sorry”. he spoke with his eyes pasted on his folded hands. “I should’ve told you”.

“I don’t care how sorry you are”. you spat in absolute disgust. 

“i know i’m a horrible person for what i did but I changed and I’ve been good to you. what can I do to be worthy of a second chance?”.

“you’re never going to be worthy of a second chance”. 

“why not?”. 

“because you lied soobin. you think just because you’re here apologizing to me that it makes everything okay?”. 

“you knew I wasn’t perfect when you met me”. 

“I didn’t know you were completely heartless either”. 

“I’m not trying to justify what I’ve done by any means. I know it was a horrid thing to do. but i’m really trying to make things right here”.

“make things right and then what? lie to me about something else?”. 

“i’ll stop trying to sugar coat things and be upfront from now on. I’ll tell you everything I’ve done”. 

“you should’ve done that from the beginning”. 

soobin makes an effort to grab your hand and in exchange you throw your last bit of hot chocolate on him. 

“you deserve to be in prison”. you hiss. 

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

“she’d never let you fuck”. 

“she almost did, once”. 

“and what happened? you chickened out?”. 

“no she did”. 

“you’re a punk man”.

“I hate her stupid ass attitude but her body and her innocence, it’s sexy”.

“so what are you going to do? just sit here and let this opportunity go to waste?”. 

“fuck no. before this trip is over, her virginity will be mine”.

[krustywhore]

a language in itself // moreid

inspired by this doodle by @owlpip / @owlpipscribbles and i just had the cutest idea when i saw it so naturally i wrote this little one-shot<3 fig i hope you like it

Spencer, who was arguably not-so easily frazzled, was currently debating whether or not to lose his shit in front of all of his new coworkers. It was his first day at the BAU, for Christ’s sake, and he was seconds away from making a complete fool of himself in the middle of the bullpen.

With nearly a dozen books in his arms, the arm of his glasses held firmly between his teeth, and a to-go cup of black coffee balanced precariously on top of the stack, he was an accident waiting to happen. He passed interns and desk agents coming and going as he headed to where he was told to meet his new boss, but it was only a matter of time before his adamancy in taking only one trip from his car came back to bite him.

If he had known there was a thick bundle of computer cables wired under the carpeted bullpen floor, he would’ve made it to his new desk without a single problem, but his scuffed Chuck Taylor’s immediately caught the bump of wires and before he knew it books were tumbling to the ground and his full cup of coffee had emptied itself all over…a very attractive man.

Fuck.

His glasses were in his lap, thankfully unbroken, but he hastily put them on only for the blurry man above him to get somehow more handsome.

As if the situation couldn’t get any more humiliating, his face went bright red and he fumbled trying to collect everything off the floor.

“Hey, hey, slow down kid,” the man spoke, making Spencer freeze on his knees, looking back up. “You okay?”

He was certain his heart was seconds away from beating out of his chest.

“Me? I…I’m the one that just spilled hot coffee all over your shirt,” he laughed nervously, wanting to melt into the floor and disappear forever. “I’m so sorry-“

The man laughed and somehow even his teeth were perfect when he smiled.

“Don’t worry about it, pretty boy. One of the benefits of this job is carrying spare clothes around in case we end up skipping town,” the man smirked, picking up some of the scattered books and stacking them up on a nearby desk. “You didn’t hurt yourself, did you?”

Spencer shook his head, still blushing as he felt multiple sets of eyes on him from around the room. He just hoped none of them belonged to his new boss.

“Good, well, I’ll take these for you if you’ll show me where your desk is,” he offered, a dark coffee stain still clear as day in the middle of his navy blue shirt.

Spencer followed uncomfortably behind him before pointing to an empty desk in the corner of the bullpen opposite another desk with a fair spread of files and picture frames adorning it.

“No kidding,” the man chuckled, dropping the stack of books on the desk. “I guess we’re desk neighbors, pretty boy.”

Spencer choked, coughing until he regained his composure as his handsome apparent-coworker pounded on his back to help him.

“Thank you,” he choked out, his throat still groggy. “I…I don’t understand why you’re doing this.”

The man’s casual smile dropped and he took on a serious look.

“What do you mean?”

Spencer fiddled with the buttons on his cuffs, thoroughly embarrassed enough for one lifetime.

“I mean that I just spilled coffee all over you and humiliated myself on my first day and…and I clearly don’t belong here if I can’t even make it an hour before causing a disaster, but you’re just so…so nice and historically, guys like you are never nice to guys like me, but you are! And…and I can’t possibly fit in here, I don’t know what Gideon was thinking-”

“Hold up, Jason Gideon? Holy shit, you’re the one he’s been telling us about!” He looked like he was completely gobsmacked, looking Spencer up and down multiple times to the point where the younger man was getting concerned.

“I guess so…?” He explained shyly. “Why, did he not tell you I was twenty-two?”

The other man rubbed the back of his neck and glanced down at his shoes.

“No, no it’s not that it’s...,” he paused, smiling as if he was nervous. “It’s just that I was going to ask you out before I knew we were would be working together.”

Spencer did a double-take and just…stared.

“You…w-what?”

His older counterpart smiled.

“I know it’s technically against the rules but…I would love to take you to get a replacement coffee sometime,” he smirked, leaning up against Spencer’s desk. “What do ya’ say, pretty boy?”

Reid definitely wasn’t any more prepared for the nickname than he was before, but somehow when it followed an invitation for a date, it felt more genuine.

Not that he had ever been asked out before, and especially not by anyone as attractive as the man in front of him.

“I-I don’t even know your name,” he mumbled, desperate for any excuse.

“Supervisory Special Agent Derek Morgan, at your service,” he grinned, reaching forward to grip the short length of necktie that poked out from underneath Spencer’s sweater vest. “And you are?”

His heart was beating so fast and his head was spinning so dizzyingly that he almost didn’t register the response until it hit him hard.

Derek Morgan.

Fuck, even his name was sexy.

He flushed bright red at the even closer contact and how closely their faces were. Surely Derek wouldn’t do anything in the middle of the office but…but something told him the other man didn’t much care.

“D-Dr. Spencer Reid,” he stumbled, barely getting the words out of his mouth in what was more of a breathy whisper. He nearly blocked out everyone else in the room as his eyes just latched onto Derek’s and refused to look away. “And…I would love to get coffee with you, but I’m paying. Since, you know, I probably just gave you at least a second-degree burn from the last one.”

The beautiful man—Derek, his brain supplied—laughed heartily, his deep brown eyes crinkling at the corners as he reluctantly let go of Spencer’s tie.

“You drive a hard bargain, Doc,” he teased, circling around to his desk only to pull out a small duffel bag from which he produced a light gray henley shirt. “How’s lunch today sound?”

Spencer smiled as the older man began walking backwards slowly, not looking away until he got his answer.

“You know where I’ll be,” he answered, pleasantly surprising himself with his own ability to be coy.

Derek shot him one last smirk before disappearing down the hallway and Spencer was left absolutely dumbfounded by the conversation he’d just had.

“Holy shit,” he mumbled under his breath, sliding off his satchel and depositing it on his desk chair before following the signs to where Agent Gideon’s office was located, as he had been instructed to stop by upon arrival.

His hands were shaking and his heart was still pounding and he was sure that Gideon was going to comment on how red he knew his face would still be, but he was practically floating on cloud nine as he sat down with his pseudo-mentor.

“Spencer, did something happen? You look…stressed,” the older profiler spoke as he stepped into the room. He shrugged in an attempt to be casual, not really wanting to discuss his romantic life with Gideon of all people. Especially when it involved someone they both worked with.

“No, nothing, I guess I’m just excited,” he lied through his teeth, hoping the man who studied behavior for a living and knew him like his own son couldn’t tell he was definitely blowing smoke.

“Right, well, if you’re ready now I can have JJ call the team in for the briefing and you can meet everyone,” Gideon explained and Spencer followed him out of the room and down the hall. He pulled out a chair around the large round table for the younger man to sit down and he moved to stand by a large screen to talk to a blonde woman who didn’t look too much older than he was. She smiled at him as she began pressing buttons on a remote and he gave a quick wave before the room filled with, what he assumed was the rest of the team. As he stood he immediately locked eyes with Derek again, who smirked and set down his files in front of the seat right beside Spencer’s.

“Alright, well as I told you all, this is Dr. Spencer Reid and he’ll be joining our team from now on. Spencer, this is Agent Hotchner, our unit chief, Elle Greenaway, Derek Morgan, our technical analyst Penelope Garcia, and our communications liaison Jennifer Jareau,” Gideon listed, despite the fact that they all could’ve introduced themselves, but he was met with a tight hug from Penelope before he could protest and awkwardly adjusted his clothing afterwards.

He smiled nonetheless and explained that he didn’t do handshakes to the rest of the team before they all filled up the seats around the table with Derek sitting so close that he couldn’t help but notice him in the corner of his eye.

“So, no handshakes?” The other man whispered in his ear as JJ passed around the folders of new case files to the team.

Spencer huffed a laugh under his breath.

“Well, I have a bit of an issue with germs. Did you know shaking hands can transfer over three thousand bacteria between parties? Scientifically speaking, it would be safer to kiss,” he rambled before freezing as he realized the implications of what he had just said.

“Oh, really? Strictly scientifically?” Derek teased, knocking their knees together under the table.

He knew Derek was looking at him but he felt a smirk creep onto his lips as he refused to give in and kept his eyes on the slides JJ was presenting.

“Strictly,” he smirked coyly.

As they all collected their things and took off on the jet, Spencer couldn’t help glancing up from his work every few minutes to sneak glances at Derek from across the plane. He was pleasantly surprised to find that Derek was almost always staring back. Seemingly none of the other team members noticed anything going on between them, or if they did, they graciously didn’t mention it.

It wasn’t long until they landed and made their way to the local police station, all expressing concern that the station’s coffee machine was broken until Derek spoke up before anyone could move on.

“Reid and I will go pick up some coffee and lunch for everyone, I think we passed a cafe just down the street. You go ahead and start here, we’ll be back in no time,” he offered, nudging Spencer with his elbow until the younger man followed him out the door and into one of the parked SUV’s. “So, does now work for you to take a quick coffee date?”

Spencer laughed, relaxing already as Derek pulled out of the parking lot.

“Now sounds perfect.”

[lockefanfic]

Business Trip - Part 10: Shock

“Maybe there’s something we can do that will… ease my nerves about this presentation I’m about to give.”

You turn slightly until your face is facing hers. Your noses brush up against one another, the first feeling of skin on skin contact sending electricity pulsing throughout both your bodies.

“What do you have in mind?”

Tzuyu lets her smile widen before bringing her mouth once more to your ear.

“I want you to fuck me. Right here, right now.”

“Do you need a ride to the convention?”

 You look up from your smartphone, where you are frantically searching for a Mandarin Chinese translation app, and find yourself more than a little struck by what you see.

 The voice is coming from within a fancy, expensive looking limousine. Framed in the limo’s back window is the face of a young woman, and while you had seen and spent your time with more than your fair share of beautiful women, this one still took your breath away for a moment.

 She is young; no more than twenty years old, at most. Her face is gorgeous, round and soft, the cuteness of girlhood giving way slowly to the beauty of womanhood. Her eyes, large and expressive, are staring at you with a friendly look. Her smile is just as attractive as the rest of her, which is to say it was extremely so.

 “Um, yes,” you say, still a little dumbstruck by her. The girl in the limo window bends slightly, presumably to open the door, and despite all the childhood advice you received about not getting into cars with strangers, you nonetheless find yourself happily hopping into this particular car with someone you had only known for all of five seconds.

 All that childhood advice never told you what to do when the person trying to get you into their car was a gorgeous young woman, after all.

 It’s been less than a week since your meeting with the CEO that sent you, Momo, Choa, and Mina to Taiwan. The three girls had gone ahead to the convention to set up that afternoon’s presentation, where they were joined by Seolhyun, who was due to make a presentation showcasing FNC’s new tech and announce their acquisition by JYP Inc. There was a lot riding on the presentation, and so the five of you had spent long hours working on every part of it to ensure it was as effective as it could be. You had planned to join them at the convention space this morning, but had to stay back at the hotel to take a conference call from the head office. This meant you had to catch your own ride to the convention.

 “Sorry,” the young woman says as you slide carefully into the backseat, “I saw the convention ID lanyard around your neck and since I’m heading that way too, I figured you’d need a ride. As you can see, I have a lot of space.” She gestures to the large and mostly empty cabin of the limo, which could have easily fit another four people.

 “Oh, no, I’m thankful. Sorry, your name was?”

 “Sorry! I should’ve introduced myself before asking you to get into my car,” she says with a soft giggle, “My name is Tzuyu. Chou Tzuyu.”

 She extends a small, thin hand towards you, and you shake her hand before introducing yourself in turn. At the mention of your name a look of recognition washes over her delicate features.

 “I’ve heard of you,” she starts, “you’re with JYP Inc., right?”

 “Right. And you’re from…” you start, eager to know who this young woman was. Whoever she was, she must’ve had some clout in the industry, given she was riding to the convention in an expensive looking limo. Her name didn’t ring any bells, however.

 “Oh, we’re from a pretty unknown company… in this industry, at least. We have ventures in other places, but we’re actually only going to be making our debut in this industry today, at the convention.”

 You nod, though you make note of the fact that she managed to avoid telling you what company she was from.

 “Anyway,” she continues, “we have some new tech lined up that we want to introduce, which is why we’ve decided to enter this market. I’m giving a presentation this morning, you should come watch!”

 She smiles softly at you, her face soft and warm, and once again you find yourself awestruck by her beauty. She was at that age of transition between girl and woman, and had all the advantages of both. She brushes her dark hair back from her eyes with one hand, tucking it softly behind her ear - a simple gesture, but one you find entrancing. She is wearing a simple black sleeveless dress; the simplicity of her clothing only served to highlight the natural beauty of her features.

 “Sure. But only if you come watch our presentation in the afternoon,” you reply.

 “Right… rumor has it you guys acquired FNC Corp. Apparently they have some new tech that’s pretty groundbreaking, and that’s why you bought them?”

 You smile slyly before responding, “I’m not at liberty to discuss that.”

 Tzuyu returns the smile. It is dazzling.

 “Rumor also says their Director of Marketing is super gorgeous - like, supermodel gorgeous.”

 You smile at the apt description of Seolhyun, and are about to agree verbally with Tzuyu, but you decide that perhaps it was best to keep quiet. While the acquisition process was well underway, the final deals and paperwork were yet to be signed, and you weren’t about to take any chances with divulging any sensitive information to anyone before it was time. Your company’s acquisition of FNC was supposed to be the big surprise you revealed at the presentation, after all.

 “I can neither confirm nor deny that,” you say, but despite your need to keep things confidential, you find a suggestive smirk creeping across your lips. Tzuyu’s beauty was beguiling, and you found yourself helplessly returning her smiles.

 “I bet she’ll be the one giving the presentation. Women like that are awesome in front of crowds.”

 “I’m sure you’ll be awesome too, then,” you say, almost automatically. You weren’t one to automatically throw compliments at women you barely knew, but there was something about Tzuyu that made it dangerously easy to do so.

 “Oh, I don’t know. I’m kind of nervous, to tell you the truth. I’ve given big presentations before to big crowds, but it’ll be my first time speaking to this particular market. A lot’s riding on this. I’m super nervous.”

 “You’ll be fine. Just imagine everyone in the crowd in their underwear.”

 Tzuyu lets a smile appear on her slim lips, before biting her lip, almost imperceptibly. It was a subtle gesture, difficult to even notice, but you sure did.

 “Is that what you’re doing now?” she asks, her tone suddenly serious, with more than a hint of flirtatiousness.

 Her question shocks you a little, if anything because it came out of nowhere, and from a young woman you’d met not even a half hour ago. You knew next to nothing about Chou Tzuyu, and yet here you were, riding in her limousine, trying to discern whether or not you should reciprocate her flirting.

 “I can neither confirm nor deny that,” you say with a smile. Tzuyu giggles, the sound soft and musical. She returns your smile and her eyes narrow as she stares at you, as though she were trying to figure you out in her head.

 “Maybe a drink will help soothe your nerves,” you say, gesturing to what looked like a sufficiently stocked minibar in the midsection of the limo, “Assuming you can drink, that is.”

 Tzuyu smiles slyly at you. “Was that your way of figuring out whether I’m of legal age?”

 It was your turn to smile and let out a small laugh. Whoever this girl was, she wasn’t stupid. She knew what game you were both playing.

 “I’m not at liberty to discuss that, Miss Chou,” you answer.

 She pink tongue darts out and swipes across her lips as she turns her head to stare out the window at the quickly passing buildings of Taipei’s downtown commercial district. “I’m eighteen, if that helps soothe your nerves. And I’ll make you talk one way or another,” she says, still keeping her gaze locked outside the window, a slim smile playing on her lips.

 The girl knew the game, and she knew how to play it.

 You take a moment to gaze at her side profile, and you are once again taken aback by the beauty in her young face - soft, delicate features, a cute button nose and large eyes. Your gaze wanders a little lower, and you find the rest of her is equally well sculpted, with long limbs and a not insignificant amount of cute baby fat still lingering around her full thighs, giving her a feminine, womanly figure despite her youth.

 You are content to ride in silence for a block or two. Your silence is interrupted after a minute when Tzuyu presses a small button built into the side console of the limousine. She speaks softly in Mandarin, and you assume she is speaking directly to the driver. Through the semi-tinted glass that divides the driver from the rest of the cabin, you notice the driver nod in understanding at whatever it was Tzuyu had asked him to do.

 A few seconds later the limo takes an abrupt turn, away from the flow of traffic and into an alleyway. A large, modern-looking parking building looms to your right, and the limo enters it, rising to the mostly empty third floor before parking in a corner that is surrounded on two sides by solid walls. Without further word, the driver shuts off the engine and steps out of the car before walking towards the exit and leaving the building altogether.

 You tense a little, especially when the driver leaves the limo. You didn’t know who this woman was, and had to be prepared for anything. It wasn’t unheard of for executives to be coerced, physically or otherwise, into doing things they didn’t want to do for the sake of divulging business secrets.

 You look at Tzuyu, hoping to find some indication of just what the hell was going on in her youthful features, but she is only wearing a blank look on her face. She takes one last glance outside her window to ensure the driver is fully out of sight, and one more look out the back window of the limo, as if she were searching for anyone else that might be in the area.

 Seemingly satisfied that you two were the only people on the floor, if not the entire parkade, she returns her gaze to you, her lower lip curling slightly under her front teeth. She bites her lower lip lightly before suddenly shifting closer to you.

 You are fully aware of her proximity, and her closeness brings her gorgeous face so close to yours that it is almost too much to handle.

 Tzuyu’s left hand rests on your left thigh, and she leans her upper body closer to yours before bringing her mouth to within an inch of your left ear.

 “Maybe there’s something we can do that will… ease my nerves about this presentation I’m about to give.”

 You turn slightly until your face is facing hers. Your noses brush up against one another, the first feeling of skin on skin contact sending electricity pulsing throughout both your bodies.

 “What do you have in mind?”

 Tzuyu lets her smile widen before bringing her mouth once more to your ear.

 “I want you to fuck me. Right here, right now.”

 “That’s very forward of you, Miss Chou,” you say, trying your best to put up a front, although every nerve and fibre of your being was screaming at you to jump at this young woman. You don’t see it, but you just know your words have elicited a smile from her.

 Tzuyu’s hand moves a little further up your leg until it turns and starts to caress your inner thigh, her delicate, thin fingers just inches away from the growing bulge in your pants.

 “What’s the matter? Am I too young for you?”

 Tzuyu’s hand moves further up your thigh. The very tip of her fingers brush up against your steadily hardening shaft. It takes every ounce of willpower in your being to not twitch at the sensation.

 “...Wife? Girlfriend?”

 “Girlfriend,” you say softly, “not that she would mind that I fucked another girl. Trust me.”

 “Good,” Tzuyu says, the tone of her voice becoming more and more lusty, her words taking more of a pleading tone, “then there’s no reason why your cock shouldn’t be in my pussy in a few minutes...”

 “I barely know you, Tzuyu. And besides, you could be from a competitor company.”

 Tzuyu smiles, happy that you have played hard to get. With the way she was coming at you, however, you weren’t sure how much longer you could resist.

 The young girl bites her lip again, lifting her body slightly and tugging at the hem of her short skirt until it is bunched up around her waist; as she does so she reveals the small baby pink thong she is wearing beneath it. Then Tzuyu swings her left leg around so that she is quite literally sitting in your lap, each of her legs straddling your waist. She wastes no time and presses her hips forward, letting your now fully erect shaft brush against her pussy.

 Tzuyu lets out a soft moan as she traces a path from your nose to your left ear once more.

 “What about now? Please fuck me, daddy.”

 You weren’t really much of a daddy kink kind of guy, but the combination of Tzuyu’s relative youth and the ridiculously hot body she was pressing up against you broke down any last vestiges of resistance you may have had against fucking the wanton young woman grinding herself against your shaft.

 Tzuyu presses her hips against yours, dragging her pussy against your crotch. The softest of moans escapes her lips.

 “Fuck me, daddy. Fuck my tight little pussy with this big cock of yours.”

 There is a pleading, almost begging tone to her words that is simply irresistible. Tzuyu drags her nose from your ear back to the front of your face, and your eyes look into hers, finding only lust - wanton, unbridled lust. At that moment your composure breaks, and you crush her lips against yours in a fierce kiss.

 The young woman’s tongue enters your mouth almost forcefully, easily finding and pressing itself against its counterpart. Almost immediately you feel Tzuyu’s hands reach between your bodies, working the belt and button of your pants with her long fingers, and you both breathe a sigh of relief as her fumbling finally undoes your pants.

 She wastes no time, her hand immediately grabbing your erect penis over your boxers, and you let out a low gasp as Tzuyu gives you a firm squeeze, delighting in the feeling of the firm flesh in her hand. Your eyes have closed involuntarily, but when they open again you find Tzuyu’s face in front of yours, her gaze drunk with lust and need, the innocence that pervaded her character quickly fleeing away from her baser desires.

 She is biting her lip again.

 Tzuyu gives you one more firm stroke with her palm before grasping the hem of your boxers. She pulls down the garment easily to finally free your shaft from its cotton confines. She breaks your eye contact to gaze down at your stiff, long penis, and a look of satisfaction washes over her young, innocent features. She grasps your shaft gently with her right hand, and taking a moment to ensure you are watching her, she licks her lips, her pink tongue gliding over the shiny red lipstick she was wearing.

 The young woman climbs off your crotch, and while you are slightly disappointed at the new distance she is putting between your bodies, you quickly find yourself unable to complain as Tzuyu repositions herself on her knees between your spread legs.

 She looks up at you with that youthful, fresh face of hers, her large, round eyes so full of innocence, so at odds with the fact that she was on her knees, about to perform such a lewd act. Perhaps that is what is so intoxicating about her - the fact that she was so innocent, so young, and yet so willing to indulge her basest desires. Perhaps that is why you have put up so little resistance to having sex with a girl that was so much younger.

 A moment later, any hesitation you might have had flees from your mind as Tzuyu runs the very tip of her tongue from the base of your cock all the way to your very tip, her tongue gliding slowly and softly over your already weeping slit. A moan of sheer pleasure escapes your mouth as your spine tingles with excitement - it turns out to be a mere appetizer of what follows, as Tzuyu wastes no more time and takes you into her mouth, her soft lips and wet tongue pressing onto every inch of your rock hard shaft.

 Before you know it Tzuyu is giving you one of the best blowjobs you’ve ever had, although a part of you wonders whether it was the novelty of it all - Tzuyu’s youth, the fact that you’d only known her for an hour at most, the fact that you were in a parking lot in a foreign country - or her actual skill at oral sex that contributed to the pleasure coursing throughout your body.

 Regardless, as you reach down to brush a stray lock of dark hair away from her eyes, you find yourself relishing in the sight of your cock as it plunges in and out of the young girl’s mouth, your shaft coated with her saliva. She knows you are watching, and she lifts her eyes to lock her gaze on you, allowing you the beautiful sight of her beautiful face juxtaposed with your shaft pulling in and out of her mouth.

 Minutes pass as Tzuyu continues her blowjob diligently, at one point bringing a slender hand up to pump the base of your cock as she swirls her tongue over and around the head of your shaft. She opens her mouth and presses the head of your cock on her tongue, ensuring she is keeping eye contact as she does so.

 Her other hand has disappeared between her legs - so enraptured by her blowjob were you that you didn’t even notice she had begun to finger herself.

 “I’m ready for you, daddy,” she says, as though reading your mind, “how do you want to fuck me?”

 Her tone is so innocent, so soft and full of nonchalance, as though she were asking about the weather instead of asking you how you wanted to fuck her.

 “Why don’t you take a ride on daddy’s lap, Tzuyu?”

 A devilish smile appears on her face. You are impressed once more with how quickly her innocence fled in the face of lust.

 Tzuyu rises from her knees and straddles you once more - long, legs and full, soft thighs straddling your waist. She takes both hands and raises the hem of her dress up, ensuring you have a fine view of her small pink thong and the damp wetness that has accumulated there. She presses it against your hard shaft, grinding slowly for a few seconds.

 A soft moan of pure pleasure escapes from the young girl’s lips.

 “Do you want me, daddy? Do you want to fuck me? Do you want to tear me open, fuck my pussy, hear me beg for it?”

 “Fuck yes, Tzuyu.”

 You’ve had enough - you needed to be inside her. You grasp her full hips, pressing your shaft more strongly against her pussy. Tzuyu shares your impatience - she needed you inside her just as badly as you wanted it. She reaches down with her right hand and with slim fingers, pushes the wet cotton of her pink thong aside. The pink lips of her pussy glisten invitingly - she was drenched.

 Chou Tzuyu raises her hips slightly, and, once the head of your stiff shaft is in line with her pussy, she shifts downward, finally allowing you into her body.

 Both of you let out a rather loud sigh of pleasure at this first penetration. To say she was tight was an understatement, with her wet, warm, soft walls surrounding you deliciously. You bring both your hands to her full, round hips, relishing the feel of her warm thighs pressing against yours.

 “You’re so big, daddy,” she says softly, her eyes only half open, her eyelashes fluttering as her body adjusts to the hard meat invading her pussy. You rub her hips and thighs with your hands, unable to say anything in return, cursing for a moment that the style of her dress meant there was no easy way to free her breasts. The young woman’s hands are running through your hair, seeking some sort of release for the intense lust that has built up in her body.

 Tzuyu decides to let her body speak for the both of you, raising her hips slowly and drawing your shaft out of her body. You glance down to watch as inch after inch of your cock slips out of her - every inch already lathered with her slick juices.

 Once only the head of your cock remains inside her, she slams her body back down, sending shocks of pleasure throughout both your bodies as your shaft once again penetrates her young pussy. Once you are hilt deep Tzuyu grinds her hips around as if wanting to take you as deep as she could inside her. The sensations are delicious, intoxicating, and you are happy to let her grind herself against you, but she is not as patient as you are. Before you know it she is lifting her hips again, and a split second later she slams them back down again.

 Soon she is riding you with a solid rhythm, taking your stiff cock in and out of her tightly grasping pussy, a constant stream of moans erupting from her lips as you continue to fuck. You bring one hand to the back of her neck and she eagerly accepts your invitation, crushing her lips against yours and opening her mouth to accept your tongue.

 As you continue to make out,  your hand traces down her long, graceful neck to the front of her chest, before finally cupping and squeezing a firm breast in your palm, cursing the layers of cloth that kept you from feeling the young woman’s breasts in your hands.

 The pleasure is almost overwhelming. You’ve had your fair share of sex with beautiful women, but there was something about fucking Tzuyu that put the experience on a completely new level. You tried to convince herself that perhaps it was the circumstances, the fact that you were fucking in a limo, the fact that you had known each other for all of a few hours - but try as you might to deny it, you knew it was her youth, her innocence, and the base desire to fuck a younger girl that made the situation so damn hot.

 “Yes! Yes…. yes! This… this is so good! Fuck me, daddy!”

 You again find yourself unable to answer - so you answer with actions, bringing your hands to her waist and slamming her hips down hard while thrusting up with your hips, penetrating her young pussy with hard, fast strokes.

 The increase in volume of the young woman’s moans is indication enough that you are doing it right, but you want more - you want to show her you’re in control, and truth be told, a dark part of you wants to use her, wants to dominate her.

 You push her, carefully, off your shaft, and though she a complaint begins to form her lips, it is silenced when you take her by the hips and turn her around and push softly on the small of her back. She takes the hint and bends down on the floor of the limo, one arm draped on the side seats as she presents her upraised ass and looks back at you.

 “Mmmm, yes! Fuck me from behind, daddy! Use my body to make you cum… use me however you want, daddy!”

 It scared you, almost, how quickly you took up position behind her, drawing the short black skirt of her dress up and over her hips and pulling her drenched thong down to fully reveal the wet, splayed pink lips of her young pussy. You take only a split second to line up the head of your cock with her opening before you thrust forward, a little harder than you were expecting - not that Tzuyu minded, the loud, shrill shriek that leaves her mouth indication that she was okay with the newfound roughness of your fucking.

 Seconds later you are fucking her - not the soft lovemaking with Momo, not the firm yet considerate fucking with Choa, not even the hard, rough sex you had with Seolhyun - no, this is something different, something almost animalistic, as though you weren’t in control of yourself. The only thing that mattered to you was driving yourself in and out of this young woman’s body and making her yours.

 For her part Tzuyu appears to fully accept, even relish the roughness of your fucking, and the shuddering, quivering mess she becomes soon after you establish your rhythm is proof of the orgasm that rocks her body, the sensations coming so quickly she didn’t even have the time to announce it like the other women you fucked often did.

 The squeezing of her pussy around your shaft is enough proof of her orgasm, as if the sudden, wordless moan that escapes her lips was not enough. The wet slap of skin on skin resonates throughout the limo as you continue to fuck the young girl against the limo’s seat.

 Tzuyu drops her head against the side seat, suddenly unable to keep it up after she cums, her black hair covering her flushed features. The hair does little to stifle her moans, which continue throughout her orgasm and after it. Eventually, she is able to form words.

 “Fuck… fuck that was so good… your turn, daddy. Fuck me! Fuck me until you fill my little pussy with your cum!”

 Her words drive you to fuck her even harder and faster than you already were, ever fibre of your being devoted to drilling this young woman’s pussy with your rock hard shaft.

 “I’m gonna fucking cum, Tzuyu,” you manage to say, the girl’s tight pussy driving you closer and closer to the point of no return with its tight, wet embrace.

 “Do it… do it, daddy! Cum inside me! Cum inside me… cum inside me, daddy!”

 You’ve orgasmed inside plenty of women, but there is something fundamentally different about this - about cumming inside Tzuyu. And you knew it was because she was so young - there was something naughty, something almost wrong, something impure about spilling your thick, hot semen inside such a young girl.

 But a small part of you enjoys every moment of it.

 You push aside any thought of impropriety, any part of your conscience that told you you shouldn’t be doing something so naughty with someone so young and seemingly innocent - even if she was of age and clearly wanted it. Nothing else existed, aside from the urge to drive yourself as deep as you possibly could inside Chou Tzuyu’s wanton, lust-drunk body and let yourself loose, shooting stream after thick stream of hot semen inside her wet, tight pussy.

 For a few seconds you are paralyzed, unable to move as the waves of pleasure resonate from your crotch and suffuse every fibre of your being. Eventually you gather your wits enough to fall back down to Earth as your orgasm subsides; it was, in many ways, just a quickie - it couldn’t have been more than ten minutes since your first kiss to your orgasm. But it felt much longer, and it felt like forever before you were able to finally move again.

 Slowly, you remove your spent shaft from Tzuyu’s pussy, watching intently as a trickle, and then a steady stream of your white, pearly semen appears from between her drenched pussy  lips.

 Tzuyu looks back at you, her youthful features flushed with lust.

 “That was fucking hot, daddy.”

 ---

 The rest of your ride to the convention centre passed relatively uneventfully, Tzuyu acting as though nothing out of the ordinary had happened, which felt more than a little awkward. It turns out you were only five to ten minutes away from the convention centre, and as you open the door and exit the limo, the back window lowers and Tzuyu’s voice stops you from leaving.

 “Wait,” she says quietly.

 The young woman raises her hips and reaches beneath the black hem of her skirt, and you realize that she is removing her thong. She slides the tiny, slim strip of cloth down her full, shapely thighs and her long legs before slipping the still-drenched underwear into the inside pocket of your blazer, still moist with your cum and her juices.

 “Something to remember me by until the next time I give you a ride, daddy.”

 Tzuyu winks, bites her lip, and raises the window. You watch, dumbfounded, as the limo drives away.

 ---

 Three hours have passed since Tzuyu dropped you off, and the events of that morning still haven’t really sunk in. The pink thong in your front jacket pocket, however, is a constant reminder that it all really did happen.

 “What company is this again?” Hirai Momo asks, shaking you from your dazed reverie. She is seated beside you in the convention centre’s main auditorium, where you and the rest of your team have gathered to watch Tzuyu’s presentation. She is seated to your left, with Choa, Seolhyun, and Mina seated in that order to your right.

 “Some up and coming company I’ve never heard of,” you say, hoping Momo didn’t detect the lies in your words, “I don’t think they’re anything to be concerned about. But… the boss did say we should check out the competition.”

 Momo nods to you as she peruses the program idly, flipping its pages, evidently bored out of her mind.

 The lights on the stage have begun to dim, and a spotlight shines on stage; the presentation is about to begin.

 A slim figure in a black dress appears from behind a curtain - it is Chou Tzuyu.

 Almost immediately she engages the crowd, her voice firm and confident, without any of the nervousness that she spoke of earlier that morning. She introduces herself, her company, and quickly and smoothly transitions into some background information on her company’s pursuits in other industries - behind her, projected onto the wall, a well designed presentation highlights her talking points with infographics and statistics.

 This was not the nervous young girl you shared a ride to the convention centre with. This was a professional, a confident public speaker in her element.

 “We may be new in this industry, but we’re ready to make an impact,” Tzuyu says, her voice loud, clear, and confident. Her eyes are shining, her hands gesturing comfortably to emphasize her points. A smile is ever-present on her lips; the same lips that were twisted in lewd pleasure earlier that morning.

 “...And we want to make that impact using technology that is completely new to this industry,” she continues, “something that will be totally groundbreaking. We’re talking a complete paradigm shift in the industry that will change the way you do things. We’re taking a complete game changer.”

 Was the entire ‘innocent, nervous girl’ persona Tzuyu had that morning merely a mask? Was she playing games with you? You shift uneasily in your seat at the thought of being used, being toyed with. Beside you, Momo and the others sit impassively - they had no reason to feel uncomfortable, after all. You envy them their ignorance.

 “....and to introduce our tech, we have one of our head developers here to walk you through it. Please welcome...”

 A spotlight appears at the other end of the stage. A young woman in a white dress steps out onto the stage.

 “...Minatozaki Sana!”

 There have been a few moments in your life when time freezes; important moments, when time stands still, when your heart ceases to beat. Your first kiss. A couple of moments playing sports. Happy moments, sad moments - but also moments of sheer shock.

 This was one of those moments.

 It is a moment that seems to last forever. It lasts so long that as you turn to Momo, you swear not a second has passed; your eyes register the look of pure shock, overlaid with betrayal, written all over your girlfriend’s features.

 You look to your right, and see that Choa has covered her mouth with a hand, her eyes filled with hurt and pain; Seolhyun is gripping the armrests of her chair with a deathgrip, her knuckles white and sheer anger all over her features; and while she is too far for you to see her face, the clenched fists gathered in Mina’s lap tell you that she too is wrestling with hurt and pain and anger.

 Sana begins to speak on stage, and although you hear the words, you have trouble making sense of them.

 After a few minutes it becomes abundantly clear - the “groundbreaking” tech Tzuyu’s company is introducing is in fact the tech from Seolhyun’s company. Someone had to have stolen it from FNC; someone who had full access to FNC’s offices and staff. Someone who had the the opportunity, the industry knowledge, and the skills to accomplish such a feat.

 A final, sad thought comes up in your head, one that is almost too painful bear; Minatozaki Sana was that someone.

 Every word she speaks is a dagger into your back.