#just got the most obvious scam email. sigh

[bell-bones]

Man. I had my first ever person approach me for commissions on Instagram and it was just a damn scammer. Wasted my time

[httpjeon]

MINE FOR TODAY — KSJ (M.)

synopsis. as part of a special valentines day sale, you make a bid in hopes to get a special discounted date with one of the dreamy bachelors of club ardor. you decide to choose The Romantic. 

pairing. seokjin/reader genre. angst, fluff, smut au. fake dating!au, date-for-hire!au wordcount. 6,171 contents. sad!seokjin, lonely!seokjin, light pining, teasing, protected sex, breast play, fingering, size kink (?), scratching, overstimulation, doggy style, pet names, light aftercare note. seokjins was by far the hardest to write. i have such a difficult time writing him ): i apologize, i did my best for him!

— club ardor masterlist.

© httpjeon 2020. do not repost, modify, or translate.

Your phone let out a startling ding, making you jump as you hadn't realized you'd forgotten to silence it. Taking a look around your cubicle, you made sure no one had noticed before you pulled it out and went to put in do not disturb mode. Before you did, however, the preview notification caught your attention.

"CLUB ARDOR VALENTINES DAY SPECIAL: See Inside for Details."

As you were about to unlock your phone to take a look, you heard the light clicks of your boss's heels coming towards you. You quickly slid your phone back into your drawer and turned your attention to your screen, feigning reading something.

Her footsteps paused outside of your cubicle before she called your name. You spun around in your chair to meet her gaze curiously.

"I really need those expense reports within the next hour, can you do that?" she asked.

"Oh yeah," you nodded, turning around once again to face your desk, "I'm actually almost done, I can probably have them on your desk in 30 minutes."

"That's perfect," she smiled, "Thank you."

You returned her smile and let out a sigh once you heard her footsteps disappear. Shaking your head, you let yourself become absorbed in your work once again -- forgetting about that email you'd received.

You caught a taxi to head home, not feeling like walking even though your apartment was only 5 minutes away. Your feet were aching and you just desperately wanted to take a shower and eat dinner as you'd accidentally missed your lunch break by working through it.

It wasn't the first time you'd considered yourself a bit too much of a workaholic.

It was nearing 11PM by the time you finally were able to settle down on the couch. Your hair was freshly washed and you were wrapped in a soft bathrobe with a nice face mask.

Reclining as the TV played in the background, you unlocked your phone to check after spending most of the day without. You responded to texts and checked your social media before suddenly remembered the email you had received earlier.

"CLUB ARDOR VALENTINES DAY SPECIAL: See Inside for Details."

It sat at the top of your emails and when you opened it, you were greeted with an image similar to a party invite. In pretty, cursive font it was written; "Once in a lifetime chance to meet the man of your dreams!"

There was a link beneath it that you clicked, causing it to open a new Safari page. The search bar indicated it had taken you to clubardor.com. It wasn't the first time you'd been on the website.

You heard of it's grand opening half a year ago and went to check it out. Unfortunately, you discovered that even the most basic package was 2 grand for 12 hours. The deluxe had a price that nearly sent you into cardiac arrest.

In the end, you just signed up for newsletters and things to be sent by email.

It seemed it paid off, as you found yourself on a page detailing a Valentine's special.

For the entire month of February, they were hosting a giveaway. According to each Date's schedule, a lucky woman would be chosen from a lottery to get a date with them for just $500 instead of $2,000. The insane discount had your jaw dropping.

You weren't embarrassed to admit that you were curious about the date-for-hire service. Biting your lip, you decided to throw your hat into the ring and place a bid on the special.

"Full money-back guarantee if you're not chosen!" was written in bold letters above the credit card input.

You had no worry about being scammed, Club Ardor had risen to the top in terms of dating services in the country -- after just 6 months of activity and just 7 bachelors available. They had an excellent reputation and were known for having an extremely high-class clientele.

With your lip caught between your teeth, an excited smile on your face, you put your payment information in and hit 'Enter'.

"Thank you for your bid! Please keep an eye on your email within the next week to determine if you've been chosen! Your lottery number is 1-241-994."

You opened up your note app and typed down the number on a blank note for safe keeping.

Returning to the website, you began to do some digging into each of the men available to hire. While their pictures weren't viewable -- for safety reasons, you supposed, there was plenty of information about them.

"Each Date has full control over creating his own scene. Location, dynamic, and length of time will vary. Please speak to your Date for more information on his plans to be sure you have allotted the correct time-frame. Abide by rules and limits he sets."

You flicked through the profiles of each man, eying their listed physical and emotional qualities.

That night, you went to sleep with excitement stirring in your heart.

Somehow, you managed to work through a couple days and ended up forgetting about even signing up for it. You were working so hard to get a promotion so you could escape the shitty cubicle that somehow spending $500 completely slipped your mind.

At least, that was until you were eating a bowl of cereal at nearly 3 in the morning on a Friday night -- 6 days after you had signed up, and your phone pinged with the alert of an email. Holding the spoon in your mouth, you picked up the device and unlocked it without even looking at the notification.

You went to your email and paused when you saw the email was from Club Ardor.

With shaking fingers, you opened it.

"Below are the applicants who filed for the lottery that won. If you do not see your number, expect a monetary refund within the next 24 hours."

You clicked out and went to your note app to check the number you had gotten. Refreshing your memory, you returned to the email and scanned down the list. There were a lot of numbers listed, you quickly realized. But by some miracle, you spotted your own number listed there in the middle.

"If your number is listed, please check your email for further instructions."

You backed out of the email and refreshed, sitting up straight when you realized you had a new one from Club Ardor.

"Congratulations on winning a special night, please follow this link to register for a date with the man of your choice!"

Clicking the bright red hyperlink, you watched the screen load for several seconds and go from white to black.

You flicked through all seven of the men passing the boyfriend, the romantic, the quiet one, the playboy, the softy, the bad boy, and the alpha male. It was easy to rule out the playboy, bad boy, and alpha male -- deeming them a little too hard of scenes than what you would be able to handle.

After a bit of deliberating, you decided on the romantic. He seemed to be the oldest at 26 years old and from the silhouette of his picture, you could see he had a very nice build with hide shoulders and pretty, thin waist. You assumed he would be closer to your type and you did enjoy romance so with a couple of clicks, you were registered for a date with him.

You were brought to another page which held instructions for downloading an application called Club Ardor along with a code it told you to input.

You did as you were instructed, highly impressed with the company's extensive work on the hiring process. It was very obvious to you that Club Ardor was, in fact, suited for those of high class. The service held an obviously high regard for discretion and safety for both its bachelors and clients.

Once the app was downloaded, you opened it and found a box to enter the code you'd been given.

You were then brought to a page to input information such as your name, age, height, likes, dislikes, and preferences. After entering it all, you were brought to an empty text message thread.

Before you could attempt to look around, your phone let out a jingle and a new text message popped up.

From: Seokjin Hi cutie! Our date is set for tomorrow night. Meet me at the Club Ardor building at 7PM sharp. Wear something nice and pretty, but comfortable. Can't wait to see you!

You read the text several times, surprised by the quick work he made before typing out a response letting him know you understood. The final thing he texted was a an address to the building you would meet him at.

Thankfully, your job has required you to dress nicely for business dinners in the past so you had a decent amount of things to wear. You decided on just a flowing dress that was breathable but complimented your figure. Placing it in the front of your closet for easy access, you went through your nightly routine and got into bed.

You worked through the day, it was a Friday so you compiled the information of the entire week and input it into the data system. It kept you busy and the hours passed by quickly.

You got off at 5, having made sure you finished everything as quickly as possible so you wouldn't have to work over time.

"You're in a rush today, _____," your boss smiled as she met you in the elevator, carrying a couple files.

"I um...I have a date tonight," you confessed sheepishly, face flushing when she gasped.

"Congratulations, I hope you have a wonderful time," she said, patting you on the back, "Stay safe, I'll see you on Monday."

The elevator opened to the 3rd floor and she got off, shooting you a little wave before the doors closed again. You were dropped off at the lobby and you adjusted your bag on your shoulder, bidding a goodbye to the receptionist as you exited your building.

Grabbing a taxi, you made your way home.

As soon as you stepped out of the shower, you heard your phone go off from your bedroom. The notification bell for the Club Ardor app was extremely hard to miss.

Wrapping a towel around yourself, you wandered into your bedroom and picked the device up.

From: Seokjin [5:45PM] Super excited, cutie! Can't wait to see you!

You smiled, typing out your response immediately, "Me either! See you soon!".

You were ready earlier than you would have liked. There were still 20 minutes until you could leave and be at Club Ardor on time. You didn't want to be too early or too late.

Timing it just right, you grabbed your purse and slipped your phone into the side pocket before slipping your heels on. The Uber you called pulled up right on time as you exited the lobby of your apartment complex.

Exchanging pleasantries, you crawled into the back seat and let out a nervous breath. Of course it wasn't until you were literally on your way that the nerves would kick in.

Club Ardor came into view at precisely 6:58PM.

The building was a huge high rise building with several floors. Club Ardor was a brightly lit neon sign atop the building. The Uber pulled up to the front curb and you stepped out, checking the time to see it was 6:59PM.

As the Uber sped away, you stepped up to the door, unsure of what to do. Deciding that you should probably let him know you were there, but as you unlocked your phone, the lobby door opened and a man stepped out.

He was dressed in a tux with a bowtie and he looked around for a second before his eyes landed on you.

"_____?" he smiled, walking up to you with his hand out, "It's nice to meet you, I'm Seokjin."

"Hi, Seokjin," you greeted, noting how big his hand was in yours before he pulled away.

"My cars in the garage," he jerked his head in the direction around the building, "Do you want to come or I can pull up."

"I'll...wait here," you said, making him laugh before nodding his head.

"I get it," he waved it off and began to jog around the building.

You could hear the rev of a car engine echo from the garage before a sleek white car came into view. Seokjin got out and jogged around the car to open the door for you.

You thanked him with a soft smile before getting in, pulling the seat belt on as he slammed the door shut.

Once in an enclosed space with him, you were immediately aware of how good he smelled. An almost sweet, fruity perfume wafted off of him and if you looked closely you could see he had a lip tint on.

"So, what's the plan?" you asked, breaking the silence that had settled.

"A romantic date on the water for two," he sighed, almost dreamily.

It couldn't help but laugh, which in turn brought a bright smile onto his face. The atmosphere became increasingly less tense as Seokjin drove to somewhere unknown.

"I'm so hungry," he complained from the driver's seat, making a turn onto a less populated road, "The food is honestly to die for."

"Whoa, what is this place?" you asked, not fully hearing his comment as you watched him pull up at a parking lot near a huge lake.

"This is where our date is, silly!" he grinned, getting out of the car and rounding to open your door for you.

He took your hand, escorting you towards a pier where there was a large boat bobbing with the waters natural movement.

"Hop aboard, lovely," he kept h is hold on your hand as you got onto the boat. He followed you and tugged your hand to get you to follow him.

Your body wavered as the boat suddenly took off but Seokjin was there to steady you with a broad grin.

"Have a seat," he motioned to a small table with two chairs across from one another.

"So," you huffed a laugh as you took a seat, "When you said...dinner on the water."

"I meant it literally," he shrugged, reaching over to click a button and several strings of white fairy lights illuminated everything around you.

"Whoa," you gasped, looking around.

You could see the lights from the buildings on shore and there was a beautiful cast of the moon shining over the water. It was beautiful and as you turned your gaze back to Seokjin, you were surprised to find him leaning his chin on his hand as he watched you.

"Your eyes are sparkling," he said, an almost serene smile on his lips.

In more proper light, you could make out his features more. He had wide shoulders, pretty, plump lips and flawless skin. His eyes were sparkling as well, the dark irises looking like stars were shining within them.

"Would you like to start eating?" he asked, reaching across the table to place his hand over yours. His skin was soft and warm and it made you smile as you nodded.

Dinner was a blur, he had a few dishes available to choose from since he didn't know exactly what you would like. You chose the steak, which seemed to make Seokjin quite happy as he ordered the same thing.

You could see where his romantic title came from as he reached across the table to feed you a couple bites every once in a while. Once the main course was over, the two of you shared a strawberry cheesecake slice after he lit the candle at the end of the table.

You had a good laugh when he failed to light it a few times because the breeze kept blowing it out.

"Now, the next portion of our date I'll admit...it's a little lame," he confessed sheepishly as he walked you back to the car.

"Oh?" you climbed into the seat after he opened the door for you.

"We're going to head back to Club Ardor, drink, and watch movies," he said, turning the key in the ignition.

"It's not lame," you giggled, resting your head back on the seat, "I think it's a great way to unwind."

"I'm glad you feel that way," he said, sounding relieved.

When you finally pulled back up to Club Ardor, Seokjin was blasting music and singing obnoxiously to it. You had your hand over your mouth to keep from laughing too much. Every once in a while, he'd take a look at you and end up laughing midway through his singing.

He pulled into the garage and pulled into a parking spot that had his name on a sign in front of it.

There was a door that he had to scan a card to unlock which led into what appeared to be a lounge room. He didn't waste any time in clicking the button to call the elevator.

Seokjin was comfortable. He had such a calm, relaxing demeanor that it put you at ease.

The two of you sat on the couch and clinked your glasses together before you both downed the shot he had poured. You cringed as it burned going down your throat, leaving a horrible taste in your mouth.

A bit of a lightweight, it didn't take much to get you tipsy and soon you were both losing it over some horrible movie he had accidentally picked.

"I swear it looked good in the previews!" he argued through laughter when you teased him about his choice.

"I'm picking the next one, you've lost movie-picking privileges!" you laughed, stealing the remote from his hands, making him gasp in shock.

He immediately began to try and get it back from you, his body pressed against yours. His perfume once again and it made your eyes flutter.

Pressed against the arm of the couch with Seokjin's body dangerously close to yours, you both paused. He met your eyes, seemingly searching for something in your gaze. As you searched his, you couldn't deny how...sad they looked.

Your breath began to quicken when his face slowly got closer to yours. You could feel his breath against your lips but before they could meet, he was pulling away. He took the remote with him and took his seat beside you once again, leaving you pressing your hand to your chest as your heart raced almost painfully.

There was a terrifyingly loud alarm that rang throughout the room, making you jolt awake.

Looking at the clock, you were disgruntled to see that it was 7 in the morning. Sitting up, you realized you were in bed when you were positive you fell asleep with Seokjin on the couch.

"Hey," he said, making you jump as he suddenly appeared in the doorway, "It's 7am."

"I see that," you mumbled, sliding out of bed, still sleepy.

"Our 12 hours are up."

And just like that it was over.

However, Seokjin didn't leave your mind after that though. Even when you stepped into your apartment, you couldn't stop thinking about him.

Especially how you almost kissed.

You were, of course, aware that Club Ardor dates would occasionally participate in physical intimacy. You hadn't expected it to happen to though. You could still remember the way his scent wafted around you and how close his lips were to yours or that sad look in his eyes.

A week passed by quickly and painlessly. You fell back into a rhythm with work, giving vague replies to your boss when she asked about how it went.

Somehow, Seokjin kept slipping into your mind. You couldn't shake him.

A measly 12 hours with a man you had only just met, and he seemed to have invaded your very subconscious.

That day, after work, you decided to take a detour to a local bar. It wasn't a very big, popular bar but the people in your neighborhood frequented it quite often. The atmosphere was buzzing inside and you made to take a seat at the bar but paused when you spotted a figure you recognized. You blinked several times, making sure you weren't hallucinating him.

"Seokjin?" you asked, making him jump.

His head snapped over to look at you, his eyes wide. He took you in for a second before his face morphed into confusion.

"What're you doing here? How'd you know I was here?" he sounded defensive and it made you frown, shaking your head.

"I live in the apartment complex down the street, I stopped here after work for a nice Friday drink," you motioned to your work attire and he seemed to relax. Part of you was offended that he thought you were some kind of stalker but you supposed in his line of work, it wasn't out of the realm of possibility.

He was drinking a beer slowly, seemingly lost in his own little world as he turned away from you. You got the hint, and went to walk away from him but you stopped when he called your name.

"Um...why don't you sit with me?" he asked, motioning to the empty stool beside him.

You were relieved he asked you to join him because that's all you wanted. You took the seat and he ordered you a drink, for which you thanked him. Being in his presence again felt nice and you already began to relax.

It seemed Seokjin had been drinking there for a while. His face was a little red and he was openly giggly and friendly -- a complete difference than what he was when you first sat him sitting there.

Time flew by with him but eventually you realized it had gotten dark outside and you'd stayed far longer than you had intended.

"I really need to be going," you sighed, the words painful as they slipped out of your mouth. You didn't want to leave him, you'd thought about him so long.

"Wait!" he cried, grabbing a hold of your blouse sleeve, effectively halting you.

"What is it?" you asked, alarmed by the saddened look on his face.

"I...Can't you stay?" he asked, voice soft.

"I...I really need to get home...I've got some reports to go over for work..." you explained, wincing when you watched him visibly deflate, "You...you can come over, if you want?"

"Really?" he looked hopeful again as he hopped off the stool.

He wobbled a bit and you laughed, reaching out to steady him even though you were a little tipsy yourself.

The two of you walked outside, the cool night air hitting your heated skin and making you shiver.

"I really...I'm not supposed to go home with clients..." he mumbled, as if talking to himself, "But I guess you're not technically a client anymore, right?"

You chuckled, cheeks burning when he pulled you close against him, "I guess I'm not."

"Yeah, so it's fine!" he chuckled.

Once the two of you stepped into your apartment, things seemed to shift. He took a seat on the couch and relaxed.

It gave you a moment to take him in; he wore jeans and a t-shirt, looking even better in casual clothes than he did in formal wear.

"Do you want some hot chocolate?" you asked suddenly, unable to hold back your smile when he visibly perked up, "I'll make you some."

You disappeared into the kitchen, letting out a deep breath as you realized your heart was racing. Seokjin seemed to have the effect. He didn't even do anything and he had you flustered.

You heated up some milk in the microwave, not wanting to bother with stove top. Pouring the powder into the cup you stood and waited for the milk to be done.

Before it could finish, you felt a presence behind you that had you jumping out of your skin. Turning around, you were face to face with Seokjin's incredible visage. His brown eyes were wide, almost curious and a smile lingered on his pretty lips.

You subconsciously licked your own lips and you swear your saw his own eyes drop to your lips. The energy was tense between the two of you and his perfume was permeating off of him once again. Seokjin opened his mouth to say something but before he could the microwave beeped.

The spell was broken and he backed off, wandering back into the kitchen as you began to mix the powder and milk in the cup.

You took a seat beside him, handing him the cup before turning the TV on. The two of you relaxed, you pulled your throw blanket over you shoulders as Seokjin sipped on his hot chocolate.

As you watched him, you couldn't help but find him cute.

"Hey Seokjin?" you asked, earning a hum from him, "How come you work at Club Ardor?"

"Why do you ask that?" he questioned, frowning as he sat up straighter.

You followed suit, shrugging your shoulders, "I mean surely being a date-for-hire wasn't the job you dreamed of," your words brought a smile to his face and he let out a soft chuckle, "Plus, you're crazy good looking, funny, and charming...I'd expect someone like you to be a model or something."

"Well...thanks..." he smiled, cheeks a little red, "To tell you the truth...I've dated quite a bit but..." he seemed to deflate as he spoke, "It never worked out, they all just wanted me for my money and looks."

"How shallow..." you sighed, shaking your head in dismay.

"Eventually, I just decided to stop trying but...if I'm honest I get so lonely," his confession made you frown, "But I just...don't want to be open to anyone so...this job makes me feel loved, even if it's fake."

"You won't even try to find a girlfriend again or something?" you asked, pained at the idea of him just giving up.

He shook his head, "No one ever wants me for me. Do you think I haven't tried my hardest? It never works, I'm sick of feeling left like I'm worth less than I am."

"Seokjin..." you muttered, reaching over to place your hand over his that was curled up in a fist on his knee, "You...deserve to have someone genuinely love you. It seems impossible but...it can't be like this forever. Someone will come along that will see you for you but you can't just...shut down. You should keep trying," you squeezed his hand, feeling it relax from the fist, "Maybe you've been dating the wrong women!"

"You're right," he mumbled, surprising you, "I think someone more like you is my type."

It took a second for those words to sink in,"Wha--" you shook your head, letting out a soft laugh, "Don't tease me like that!"

"No, I really mean it, _____," he whispered, meeting your gaze. It held such conviction and sincerity that you felt your heart speed up, "I think you're beautiful and you're so sincere. When we had our date," he paused after saying the word before sighing, "I had never wanted to kiss or touch someone more than I wanted to with you. You are absolutely captivating and you don't even know it."

He shifted on the couch, turning to face his body towards you. Your proximity was closer than you expected once he faced you, if you leaned in just a bit more your noses would touch.

The tension between you rose, something hot building that neither of you could deny.

Then, his lips were on yours -- soft and warm with the taste of hot chocolate lingering on them. It wasn't even a thought to hesitate, you were immediately returning the kiss.

It became more heated as the seconds ticked by. You found yourself pinned to the couch with him above you, never breaking the kiss. You wrapped your arms around his neck, tangling your fingers in his hair. Whimpering, you felt a shiver go down your spine when he softly nipped at your bottom lip.

When you pulled away, there was a minuscule thread of saliva connecting your lips. Once you met his heated gaze, you both knew what the other wanted.

The walk to the bedroom was a blur of shared kisses and wandering hands pushing clothes off. By the time you were pinned to the bed, you were both naked. 

Seokjin's pretty, plump lips found purchase on your neck, making you shiver as his breath fanned over the sensitive skin. Kisses trailed down to your chest, over your collarbones and sternum before reaching the gentle swell of your breasts. 

Your chest rose as you inhaled sharply at the feeling of his warm lips enveloping a perked nipple. His fingers caressed your skin so delicately you could almost miss it completely  

His digits dipped between your thighs to find your folds already wet. He groaned, lightly grazing his teeth against your nipple before looking up at you through his lashes.

“All this because of some kissing?” he teased, making your cheeks burn.

He huffed a laugh and moved to take your other nipple into his mouth. At that same moment, his fingers parted your folds and found your clit. You gasped, spreading your legs further for his access. 

His digits were skilled and graceful, circling your clit to make you whimper before dipping into your entrance. His fingers were long and found your sweet spot quickly, chuckling when your hips twitched upwards at the stimulation. 

He sat up, pulling away from you as he sat back on his heels. His fingers were still inside you and he eagerly watched the way your entrance stretched to accommodate his two — three fingers. 

Your eyes fluttered, rolling back in your head as he fucked you with his fingers. As a result, you missed him wrapping his left hand around his own cock, biting his lip as he finally got the stimulant he needed. 

Precum dripped down his shaft and he eagerly used it to lubricate his movements. He scissored his fingers inside you, making sure you were stretched enough to take him. 

When he pulled out, you whined at how empty you felt. 

“Have you got a condom?” he breathed, tightening his fist around his cock when you reached into your bedside drawer and pulled one out. 

You settled back, spreading your legs once again. He groaned, shuffling forward to cover your body with his. Your eyes met as the tip of this cock kissed your entrance. 

Both your mouths fell open as he sunk into you. Your tight walls squeezed him so wonderfully that he groaned. He stretched you open even more than his fingers had, giving you that wonderful burn you needed. 

He met your lips in a sweet kiss as he angled his hips toward your sweet spot. You whimpered, wrapping your arms around his shoulders to ground you as the pleasure ran rampant. He hissed, cock twitching at the sting of your nails on his back. 

His pelvic bone ground against your clit every time he sunk in, edging you closer and closer to release. Seokjin could feel the way you fluttered around him and he groaned.

Sliding a hand between your bodies, he circled the bud until you arched with a cry of pleasure. 

He eased you through the high, grinning when you trembled through the overstimulation. Finally, he slowed to a stop and pulled out. You whimpered, feeling your hole clench around nothing. 

“Roll over,” he breathed, cupping your hip to urge you onto your front.

With your face buried in the pillow and your ass in the air, you looked like a delectable treat for him. Standing on his knees, he sunk his cock back into your cunt. 

You both groaned. The angle had him hitting your spot with painful accuracy. You cried out, muffled in the fabric of the pillow, as he fucked you into even more overstimulation. Your recent orgasm had you much more sensitive and this position allowed him to abuse that. 

An almost sadistic grin crossed over his face as he enjoyed the little cries and whimpers you released the harder he fucked his cock into you. 

Reaching down, he tangled his hand in your hair. You gasped as he tugged until you were up on your knees as well. Your back was against his chest and you could feel him panting against your neck.

His lips found the junction of your neck and shoulder, nipping at the skin there. Your walls fluttered around him and he released your hair to reach around and cup your breast. 

“Fuck,” you gasped as he pinched your nipple, making your eyes roll back in your head.

“What is it, baby?” he groaned, the pet name making you flutter around him again. 

“M-Make me cum, please,” you begging, making him groan once more.

He didn't say anything further, simply slid his hand down your body until he found your swollen clit. The second his fingers touched the bud, you clenched tight around him in sensitivity. 

He circled the bud until you were trembling and gushing around him. You cried out his name as pleasure coursed through your body from your high. Seokjin didn't stop circling your clit and fucking his cock into your spasming walls until you were near tears.

He finally let you fall back down to the bed and began to chase his own high. He spread your ass cheeks apart, getting a good view of the way your cunt tried to suck him back in on every out stroke. The sight made him groan. 

It took you deliberately squeezing tightly around him tightly for him to cum. It was sudden and knocked the air out of him. He gripped your hips tightly as he spilled into the condom, his cock twitching the entire time.

Everything was still for several seconds before he pulled out. 

You rolled over to lay on your side as Seokjin got up and went into the bathroom. He came out a moment later with a wet cloth that he used to clean your thighs and folds with, laughing when you playfully smacked his shoulder from the oversensitivity. 

He finally crawled into the bed, the two of you wiggling until you were comfortable. 

You laid with Seokjin's chest beneath your head, the gentle rhythm of his heartbeat the only thing you heard. His hand softly combed through your hair and you smiled.

"This...This is what I've been needing for so long," he whispered, "No one trying to get something out of being with me. Just a sincere...caring touch."

"This is what you deserve, Seokjin," you sitting up to look at him. His hair was messed up in an adorable way that made you smile, "You can have so much more if you just...open yourself to it again."

Seokjin's gaze turns glassy as he opened his mouth to speak, "I'm just...scared."

Your heart ached when you saw a tear trickle from his eye. Reaching up, you swiped it away, "I know but...you deserve to be loved, Seokjin."

He didn't reply, simply reaching up to pull you back down into his arms. You held him in return, running your fingertips over his skin until you felt him relax as sleep finally overcame him. Adjusting yourself more comfortably, you let yourself fall asleep in his arms.

You opened your eyes to the morning sun shining into your bedroom. You licked your lips as your mouth felt dry and moved to sit up. As you did, you remembered what happened last night.

Looking beside you, you realized he wasn't in bed and the sheets were cold. Standing up, you wrapped your fuzzy robe around you and crept out of the bedroom.

"Seokjin?" you called, frowning when you received no reply.

Your heart was pounding as you made a round around the apartment to see if he left a note of anything. When you couldn't find anything, you returned to your bedroom to pick up your phone.

You froze, realizing you never actually got his phone number. You'd only communicated through the Club Ardor app.

Clicking on the icon, you waited for it to load.

Instead of being brought to your profile, you reached a page with a simple notice on it.

"Your date has filed a report, you are now blocked from using the Club Ardor service. If further contact is attempted, Club Ardor will be forced to take legal matters."

You stared at your phone for several seconds.

Everything that happened flashed through your mind -- the way he kissed you and confessed his feelings of loneliness and hurt to you. You wondered if any of it was true. Were you a game to him?

Your view of the notice on your screen became blurry as you realized you would never know.

[joshslater]

Five Step Program

Similar stories and bonus material on my Patreon.

I stared at the contents of the envelope, a blue jockstrap, and a folded piece of paper. I hadn’t put much hope into this “miracle solution” to becoming a jock without any of the work. Of course there was a catch. “First 20 customers get their first shipment free of charge” was enough for me to fill out the form with my information. It wasn’t anything too revealing. Name, address, height, weight, age. A box where you could write what you hoped to achieve with this revolutionary five step program. That’s what they really were after, I guessed. Having people enter their dreams so that they can tailor their next scam better. I was even surprised I got anything in the mail at all, and now having opened it, it made even more sense.

I could see how sending a jockstrap to someone perhaps fulfills some legal requirement that the recipient could now look like a jock. It could be a way to avoid getting a federal fraud charge. But I hadn’t spent a dime on this, so it didn’t make any sense. The jockstrap looked like any other jockstrap, I guessed. I’d never owned one, nor worn one. The pouch was dark blue and made with two layers of some synthetic mesh material. The big waistband was light blue with the letters JOCK repeated in dark blue around it. There was a faint smell of synthetic material and detergent. I did a mental sigh and opened the folded letter.

Congratulation on becoming one of our first customers on the revolutionizing five step Jock Express program. As a thank you for signing up, this first part is totally free of charge. Should you wish to continue the program, as we are confident you will after having successfully completed the first session, simply use the URL at the bottom of this page to enter your credit card information and we’ll send you the next item as soon as the payment is confirmed. I’m happy to inform you that we can offer a reduced price for the entire program, should you chose to start it within five days. The price is only $100 for the next installment, and progressively higher as you advance in the program. There is no commitment to purchase so you can stop the program at any point. We’re confident you will want to complete all the five steps in the Jock Express program.

Fuck that! What morons sign up to this kind of shit?

Instructions: The Jock Express is the easiest and most user friendly fitness program ever developed. Simply drink a lot of water, put on the items included in each program step, as you normally would, and go to sleep.

I was even more confused. Why would that sway anyone to put out $100 for at best another piece of gym clothing? I put it all in my in-tray on my desk and let it slip from my mind. I had dinner, watched TV, answered some late emails and the usual Tuesday stuff. By bedtime I walked past my home office and had the sudden recollection that I had something waiting in the in-tray. Then I remembered what it was, and almost reluctantly decided to go ahead with wearing the damn thing. I was still convinced it was a scam, but was immensely curious to exactly how it would work. If nothing else I would get to feel what wearing a jockstrap feels like. I drank a glass of water, put on the jockstrap, and went to bed. The jockstrap was as comfortable as anything and I quickly went to sleep.

Apparently I slept through the first alarm, and jolted awake on hearing the more incessant buzz from the phone. I jumped out of bed and it wasn’t until halfway to the bathroom I realized I was naked. I wouldn’t say massive, as in cartoonish in any way, but my dick and balls were noticeably bigger than before. It took a few seconds for my still startled brain to put the pieces together. The jockstrap had disappeared and somehow affected the body. It hadn’t replaced any body parts, I could still recognize my dick, but it was for sure altered. Suddenly $100 felt like way too little money. I didn’t even put any pants on as I typed in the URL from the letter. Jock Express step #2  for $100 and express delivery for another $25. Annoyingly no option to order all four remaining steps as a package. I just wanted to have them all in my house as soon as possible.

By the time I had entered all my details, checked all the boxes, and clicked the final webshop button I was rocking a massive hard-on. The biggest one in my life so far, by far. I didn’t care right then if I would come late or call in sick, I just knew that I had to take my pre-cum leaking enhancement for a test drive, and slowly started to move my hand up and down the shaft. It felt better than ever, and lasted longer than I have ever before. I’m not really sure how long, because I zoned out a bit while wanking, and then exploded with an epic load of cum. I managed to tilt the chair back and catch it all on my body, but then I felt really spent and dozed off, only to be brought back with a text message from my boss. Sick day it is, I decided.

A more apt description would be a lewd day. I just cycled between laptop porn, wanking and showers, and combinations thereof. I loved the difference it made when wearing underwear. Even when flaccid you could tell here was action waiting, not just only wearing underwear, but while wearing jeans too. I took photos so I had progress photos to compare with.

The next day was a strange one. I worked all day in the glow of someone with confidence, as if somehow I had done some achievement. I kind of surprised myself with how much of a difference it made when dealing with the pileup of emails from yesterday. Big dick energy. I could make decisions so much faster than I was used to. I don’t know if I really had more confidence, or just didn’t care as much. I was for sure giddy with anticipation of what was yet to come by overnight delivery. I forced myself to stay until official end of office hours and then bolted and drove straight home.

Thank God there was a DHL box in my mailbox, or I don’t know what I would have done. I opened it on my way in, and it’s contents were similar to the first one. A folded letter and some folded cloth. Without opening the letter I unfolded the cloth, which turned out to be a plain, sleeveless, white cotton T-shirt. Had there been someone to high five, I would have done so. I’m not fat, but there is a bit of flabbiness I would love to get rid of, so I couldn’t wait for this part. I felt anticipation in my stomach and something else in my pants. I hadn’t had a wank since this morning.

Evening couldn’t come soon enough. The letter said basically the same as the last one. A new URL for the $400 Jock Express #3, which I immediately ordered, again with overnight shipping. Not really sure what to kill time with, I figured a jock would watch sport, so I just randomly put some football on. I hadn’t really paid any attention to sports before, so I wasn’t sure about who was who, what the series looked like, or really what happened on the field besides the obvious. I ended up masturbating to the football, which in my opinion made it better. By 9:30 I decided to drink a few glasses of water, strip, put on the sleeveless T-shirt, and go to bed. I tossed and turned in anticipation for quite a while. The T-shirt had a very loose fit, and the big holes for the arms made it even more mobile, though it was anchored by the crew neck. Finally at some point I managed to fall asleep.

I woke up before the alarm. It was dark enough that I knew I hadn’t slept through them all. Instead of getting up or turning on the light, I just slowly moved my hand to my chest under the sheet. My chest was about the same size, but felt firmer, I imagined. But more importantly I was naked and the shirt was gone. I moved my hand down and couldn’t contain my joy when I started to feel the faint square of abs. I jumped out of bed and ran into the bathroom to have a look in the mirror. The effect was better than I thought from just touch. My torso not only looked fit as a model, with abs and V and all, but younger and with better skin. Perhaps an illusion, but it almost looked like my dick was bigger as well.

Having woken up early, after a wank and a shower, I was one of the first in at the office and quickly got ahead on my tasks for the day. I still had the anticipation I felt yesterday, but today it was more like I knew what to expect. It wasn’t just a one-off or a fluke, this was legit and it was happening. As I started early I decided to flex out early and rush back home. I spent the drive home fantasizing about different types of clothing. I was kind of wishing for those sleeves they use in basket, to amp up my arms, but there might be some scientific reason why they changed the body parts in a specific order. Who was I kidding? This wasn’t science. This was magic.

I ripped open the familiar package as soon as I was inside the front door. This time it was white under armour legging of some sort, ending just below the knees. I was considering strip down fully naked and put on the leggings right then and there, and wear them until it was time to go to bed, but decided against it. Even though the descriptions were vague and didn’t really say you couldn’t do that, I didn’t want to risk fucking up the process. Instead I found some underwear in the same color as the jockstrap and took a pair of scissors to an old white T-shirt to make it look like the one I put on yesterday. Then I put on those, and nothing but, and sat myself in front of the TV, determined to actually try to follow the game this time, whichever game I happened to see.

It might be I imagined it, perhaps because I’ve never really seen myself in a sleeveless T-shirt before, but it looked to me like my arms were a bit more defined than yesterday. I realized that I had just assumed only the parts under the clothes are affected, but that’s just something I made up. It could be that it just primarily acts under the clothes, or perhaps it was just a coincidence and the clothes really could change anything. In the end I let it go. It didn’t matter, I couldn’t prove it either way, and I couldn’t watch a game, have deep thoughts and masturbate all at the same time anyway. I was so into it I almost forgot to order the next package. A steep $1000 for whatever the next item was, but so far it was fucking worth it.

I really liked how I looked in the 3/4 leggings or whatever the fuck they are called. Just imagining how much better I would look the morning after made me go to bed with a big boner, despite being thoroughly wanked. I tried to calm myself by thinking of the last game I watched, and not give Jock Express a thought, and it kind of worked. I know I fell asleep pretty quickly and dreamt of football until the alarm woke me up.

“Fuck yeah!” was the first I could think when I saw myself. The thighs were about as large as before, but the line going down them made it obvious they were muscles and not jiggle matter. It even felt different just standing. I’m almost positive my dick had grown even more. Who the hell wouldn’t dish out $400 or whatever for this shit?

While the day started great it quickly became frustrating with all the corporate bullshit. I knew how to do my job. There were just so many fucking rules in the way of doing it in the best way. Perhaps the anticipation of the second to last package made me be in a bad mood. Whatever. I bolted as soon as I could, cranked up the volume in the car, trying to not think of anything until I got home. I almost punched something when I opened the mailbox and didn’t find an envelope. Instead it was just a note about DHL attempted to deliver while I wasn’t home. I could either call them to deliver tomorrow or drive to a pickup point. Like fuck I would wait another full fucking day.

I was furious when I got back into the car, blasting music as loud as I could, but I quickly calmed down. Perhaps this was a good thing? It might be a box with shoulder pads from football or hockey or lacrosse or whatever the fuck else looks hot. You know what else is hot? Michael at the DHL pickup point. I mean, I’m not homo or anything, I’m just saying he was a good looking dude.

The packet he gave me was a bit disappointing though. No way it could contain anything as large as shoulder pads. I didn’t want to fuck with my mojo, so I kept the same routine as before and didn’t open it until back home. Fucking cleats and socks. Another fucking leg day. And they smelled bad too, like distilled vinegar or some shit. As I entered the URL from the letter on my phone I got two more shocks. The price of the last package was ten thousand fucking dollars! And even worse, the delivery wouldn’t arrive until Monday. Two fucking days away. “This is bullshit” I shouted at nobody and threw the empty cardboard box into the wall to no damage to either.

I was still furious and went straight to the fridge, pulled out a cold can of beer, opened it, and downed half of it. It felt better, but I was still upset on the world in general. I looked at the phone screen again. $10k is a fuckton of money. There wasn’t a rush to buy it right now either, if they didn’t do overnight delivery during weekends. I emptied the can and crushed it against the countertop. It hurt my hand, which just added to my anger for being such a weakling. I pulled the rest of the six-pack out of the fridge and threw it in the living room couch on my way to the bedroom. I needed to get out of these stuffy office clothes and cool down with a cold one, or four.

I ripped off the tie and started to unbutton the shirt on my way into the bedroom, and once there opened the door to my wardrobe. I felt like a girl, not knowing what to wear. I hated everything my eyes fell on, and I hated feeling like that. I bunched the shirt into a ball and threw it into a corner, together with the tie. I climbed out of the pants as quickly as I could and threw them there as well. Then I stopped myself.

Everything I saw I really liked, I realized. The pecs, the abs, the thighs, and the generous bulge in the boxer briefs.I yanked off my socks and more deliberately lowered my boxers to let the dick and balls loose. I knew what I wanted from this junk selection of clothes, and opened a drawer with my athletic clothes and pulled out a pair of grey sweatpants. It was Friday and my dick and balls deserved some freedom, I thought, as I put on the sweats without any underwear. I picked up the sleeveless T-shirt from the floor by the bed and put that on as well. I felt so much better. A few beers, whatever game was on, and some more wanking, and perhaps this could turn into a good evening after all.

After two more beers, cum stains on sweatpants, T-shirt and the couch, and fuck knows how many games I zapped through I couldn’t wait any longer. Whatever bullshit the cleats and sock did, the sooner it was over with, the sooner I could move on with the final package. $10k was still a lot, but if I sold all shares I could buy it, keeping both house and car.

The socks went almost up to the knees, but weren’t any real soccer socks or anything like that. The looked more like something someone might have to the gym, or something a skater would wear. Skater was perhaps right, because they smelled like that vinegary acidic smell of really sweaty skater shoes. The socks were white with a wide black band around it near the top, and were a bit off-white on contact surfaces around the foot, as if they had been used in black shoes by someone. As if I would fucking care. I pulled up both legs of the sweats over the knees and put on both socks, pulling them as high as possible. The cleats were black and a bit banged up, but fit perfectly on my feet. I didn’t even remember having given out my shoe size. I was unsure how tight to tie them, so I went with comfortable without being loose.

It felt weird walking with them, like the shoes were pushing your forward. Not at all like my much flatter leather shoes. Somehow my test walking ended up by the fridge, so I grabbed another six-pack and returned to the couch for some more ESPN or whatever.

I had no idea what sport it was on the screen, but glancing out the window I could see that it wasn’t evening anymore. I must have fallen asleep, I realized, but I felt way better than I ought to, given the pile of crushed beer cans around me. I walked to the toilet to have a piss, and it wasn’t until I lowered the front of my sweatpants to grab my morning semi-stiff snake I realized I was barefoot. I was pissing for probably a good minute, aiming down with one hand. Holy fuck so much I’ve kept in while sleeping. I was pretty sure I had cleats and socks on when I fell asleep. I did a few bounces on the balls of the feet. It felt fucking great, and shook loose the last drops of piss from my dick. I dropped it back into the sweatpants, and broke into a smile from how fucking huge of a tent it made, despite being just a semi. I did a few more jumps, looking at how the flagpole in my front swung up and down. I really didn’t deserve to feel this great after yesterday, but I’d fucking take it. I felt so full of energy I felt I could do anything. I wanted to run just to see how it would feel.

I dashed into my bedroom and emptied the rest of the athletic clothes drawer on the floor. Some T-shirts, a pair of basket shorts, white socks and wiped down indoor and outdoor shoes. All of it was underwhelming, outright disappointing. And why the fuck did I keep the shoes here and not by the door? I grabbed the outdoor shoes and without bothering with socks started to mash my foot into it. It was clearly at least one size too small, perhaps several. Who the fucks know how shoe sizes work. I threw both shoes into the wall above my pile of office clothes. Fucking hell. Why do all days start out great and then go downhill so fast, I wondered.

I grabbed a pair of flip flops, the car keys, and pulled the credit card out of the wallet and walked out to the car. The car stereo startled me when I turned the ignition key, as it blared out some hip hop at max volume. I reached to turn it down, but changed my mind. It felt like my mood, as I was driving to my closest mall almost below speed limit. There wasn’t much traffic out anyway on a Saturday morning. As I turned into the almost empty parking lot in front of the mall I realized the fucking God damn shit mall would open for another 40-something fucking minutes. I wished I could turn up the music louder.

As I looked down on the cum stains on my shirt and tenting sweats I decided why the fuck not, and started to beat off in sync with the music.

40-something fucking minutes later I entered the sporting goods store in the mall. Johnson’s or Dick’s or Willy’s or whatever, I don’t care. I picked up some proper compression clothes, like the leggings I had earlier with a matching top. I got myself some outdoor Nike’s, a few proper tanks, some jocks, boxer shorts and socks, new flip flops, and a snapback cap. On the way to the cashier I decided to pick up a wooden baseball bat and a regulation size football as well. Back in the car I ripped off all the stickers and shit and put on something I could run in. The sneakers, jockstrap and shorts, a tank top, and the snapback. I left the car and just ran.

It was a revelation. The first time I tasted ice cream or coca cola, or the first time I discovered I could do something else with my dick besides peeing and hitting it too hard. I felt like a good damn terminator. Like as long as I kept the pace below sprinting I could run for hours. Trickles of sweat running down my face, my arms, my back, wetting the fabric of my clothes where it could, cooling the skin with the breeze my motion generated where it couldn’t. I have no fucking idea how long I actually run. When I finally ended up back in the car I was steaming and real fucking hungry.

I felt like a shower was in order, but I was too hungry to do that first. I went by Five Guys and had a bacon cheeseburger with fries and a peanut butter milkshake. As I started eating I realized I wasn’t anywhere near tired. It was probably enough running for today, but I wanted to do more. Halfway through the meal I decided I would visit the gym we had a company membership at. I had only been there a few times since the introduction walkthrough. I wasn’t even sure I had the card in my wallet anymore, or if it was in the bowl of stuff in the kitchen.

I made a quick stop at home, unloaded my car, found the card, and set off to the Pacific Wellness Center. The dude in the lobby had a pissy attitude and asked me if I was wearing indoor shoes. I asked him what they looked like, and he let me in. Such a shame, because he was kind of good looking.

Inside the gym the results were mixed. Squats, lunges, planking, and abductor machine all went excellent. It was fun, even. But everything involving arms went miserably. I could only lift a pathetic load, and after a few reps I would be tired. I even embarrassed myself in front of two massive gym buddies. One of them had amazing arms. You could see how strong they were even when he wasn’t lifting, but fuck me what beautiful ‘ceps when loaded. And tanned too. It was lucky I had the jockstrap on, because that body was smoking hot.

I could only stand a few more failures after that and then sped back home, still with hip hop at max, in a mix of emotions. I got naked on the way to the bathroom, and there I spent perhaps an hour in the shower, getting the grime and sweat off me, and wanking twice, thinking of the arms of the hot dude. As I dried myself on a towel I knew I had to buy the last package. Ten fucking thousand fucking dollars. I had to use the laptop to access my bank, and once I had put in the sell order for my stock portfolio I saw the pornhub tabs I hadn’t looked at since Wednesday.

The big-busted bimbos I had wanked my way through the Wednesday suddenly didn’t seem as interesting. I clicked around a bit until I found a muscle stud fucking a Latino girl. How quickly the taste can change, but except for pathetic arms, I’m was now the muscle stud. I quickly entered the URL from the Jock Express #4 box and ordered the last package. The delivery date was still Monday, so come Tuesday the muscle stud would be me. Only one fucking week.

Since I was out of beer I threw on my old shorts and a T-shirt, and had a walk to my nearest convenience store and bought one six-pack for each hand. I was feeling a bit stiff from the training, but it was much better than it ought to be.

As I opened the door back at home the warm smell of gym clothes, sweat, and feet hit me. I did the responsible thing and threw everything in the washing machine, opened a beer, and started to watch whatever was on.

Sunday was just a boring-ass filler day. I woke up at a decent time, had a long run. I passed through the park, but didn’t engage with any of the groups playing football or beach volley there. I could wait two more days to get my arms sorted. I did some cleaning up and domestic shit back home. Then I went to the gym again, but this time I pretended it was leg day, so I didn’t have to embarrass myself. After dinner I had an evening jog as well, and only had a few beers before bedtime.

Same thing on Monday. Woke up pretty early and went for a long run. When I was almost back home I got a text message from my boss, saying we needed to talk about my performance over the last few days. My answer “Suck my balls” probably summed up the conversation much better than any in-person meeting. I found that the best way to find porn with muscle studs in them was to search in the gay section. Just because you like to watch big arms and strong backs doesn’t make you homo. I jacked off to the videos until it was time to eat lunch. By 2 pm I was climbing on the fucking walls in anticipation, and every minute felt like too long. Perhaps it wouldn’t arrive today at all? I heard the mailman at 2:18 and rushed out wearing only shorts and snapback.

The mailbox was stuffed full with a big, soft envelope. I tore it open on my way back inside, kicked the door shut, and emptied the contents on my kitchen table. A big black something fell out, as well as something small that rattled across the table. Ignoring the letters, as usual, I unfolded the cloth. It was a big, black hoodie in sweatshirt material, with the print “STRONG” on the front. Finally arms! I picked up the small plastic box that almost fell off the table and opened it. It contained some sort of advanced mouthguard mad in blue, white, and transparent plastic of different hardness and flex. The kind that football players use.

Not knowing what to do next, I went to the gym and spent a few hours just randomly doing low weight, high rep stuff. I was trying to catch a glimpse of everyone else who worked out to see what their arms and legs looked like. Once I felt it was too obvious I wasn’t doing anything serious I drove home, but instead of going inside I started to walk and walked for hours just looking. It felt good just to be in motion. I didn’t return back until the sun started to set, and it was almost fully dark when I walked through the door.

I decided to just go ahead with the last piece of transformation. I stepped out of my sneakers and pulled off my damp socks. It didn’t smell of strawberries. I pulled off the T-shirt and stepped out of the basket shorts, but kept the compression shorts on. I grabbed the hoodie from the table and put it over my head. Perhaps it was me, but it smelled of musky sweat inside while I put it on. I poured myself a big glass of water and downed it.

I walked with the small plastic box to the bathroom and had a look in the mirror. I didn’t really look that different. The big hoodie hid my newly athletic front. The legs and feet looked strong, but who ever notices that? My big bulge in the compression pants was however a change from the past week that couldn’t easily be hidden. I opened the box and put the mouthguard into my mouth. It fit snugly and didn’t change my appearance much either. Not knowing what to do with the hoodie I put it up over my head and pulled it tighter with the drawstrings so all but my face was gone. Then I turned off all the lights and went to bed.

It was still dark when I woke up. Instantly I knew it had worked, because I couldn’t feel the mouthguard in my mouth, though it felt different. As if the ghost of the mouthguard was still there, prying my mouth open. I felt some sort of pressure on my head, as if I was wearing a hat or a beanie or something. I was about to feel my head when I realized moving my arm felt different. Not wanting to fuck around any longer I went straight to the bathroom again to have a look in the mirror. I stared at my reflection with open mouth. The difference was breathtaking.

First of all I wasn’t wearing any top, so my abs and pecs were on full display, but they were also bigger than before. Everything was bigger. My shoulders were much bigger, my entire upper body looked wider than before, and everything about the arms were huge. My face was still my face, but there were lots of small changes. “Fucking dope” I said with a much deeper voice than what I had before. I smiled a smirk and flexed the arms in different poses. I couldn't wait to show up at the gym doing an arm day. I just needed to have another shower. My dick needed service, and I felt sluggish, as if I hadn't really wakened up yet.

[wincestisasincest]

Murder in the Blue Morgue -- Part 1

YESSS!

LET’S

GET

SOME

2D DADFIC

Okay, so I’ve noticed that, at least in terms of long-form fanfiction, there’s really not much on 2D being a dad or having kids, especially if you take away the addition of a reader-insert or OC significant other. I find this a little odd, because it’s sOrTa canon that 2D has a couple kids here or there (I say sorta because the email could’ve also been a scam, especially considering how little coverage there was on it in the lore, but screw it, I like the idea and it’s not impossible to believe so we’re doin’ this), and this seems to be a vaguely popular genre with Murdoc, so why not?

Also, this one sorta exists in a weird, out of time Gorillaz universe. All the members are the ages that they are now, Murdoc is there, but no Ace, and it takes place at Kong Studios for the first part, because I forgot how settings work and had already written that part. It’s not that important to the story anyway, I promise.

So, without further a due, let’s get started. Y E E T.

*****

It was exactly the kind of place where she expected a long-lost father to live. You’d figure someone who didn’t want to interact with the kids in his life wouldn’t pick a place with a demeanor that was inviting, and lost-fathers in general have a mysterious, albeit deadbeat vibe. And with that, plus the aesthetic of the band that was impossible to avoid all combined in a perfect storm that could even make someone as determined as she was on edge. And perhaps that was the point, she wondered. Fantastic. The logical part of her mind was smacking her upside the head with reminders that she had nothing to be worried about. She was making a perfectly reasonable request, and it’s not like she would be catching him off guard or anything. It would definitely be something that he could afford, and, if he wasn’t convinced, she did have a few persuasion techniques up her sleeve. And, of course, worst case scenario is that she got declined and asked to leave. Nothing to terrible would happen to her, even in a place like this. After all the band did have a public image to uphold. She would be fine. She took a deep breath, and pressed the button near the door that she assumed to be the doorbell. The black and white screen above her buzzed to life, with the visage of a large, dominating black man meeting her. Him being completely bald and lacking pupils did not put her at ease, even if she did know who he was. “Yeah, what are ya here fo’?” Of course, he didn’t mean to be terrifying, and she could understand that, with all the trouble that the band must get, they would need to be a little harsh with who they let enter Kong Studios. “Um… I’m looking for… Stuart Pot?” The name sounded awkward on her tongue, and who she knew to be Russel could definitely sense it as well. Even though she had had to put up with the name for five years now, it wasn’t exactly the kind of thing that was discussed in the house, and, due to his persona, it especially wasn’t discussed in the context of issues that a normal person would have. “What business could you have with Stu?” While she didn’t know if he intended to be rude or not, the judgement practically penetrated the screen. “I, uh… it’s something financial?” “What?” “It’s something financial, he owes some people money, and-“ “Are you sure about that?” “Yeah, I’m very sure, I,” she could see his resolve to abandon this conversation wipe across his face, “Wait, please don’t go, I… I’m his kid.” “I beg your pardon?” At least she had gotten his attention. “I’m, uh, I’m his kid. He pays, or he should be paying, child support to my mom. And I have something I need to discuss with him. I brought proof.” She flashed the paper with the results of the DNA scan in front of the camera. “Okay.” Was all he said before his face blinked from the screen. She could hear steps from within the building. She took another deep breath. First interaction with this foreign group, and here she was, admitting one of the facts that she always tried to dodge in conversations. Of course, she couldn’t expect to hide anything from his band, but she, at least, wanted to try and see Stuart first, before other member interactions came up. “What’s your name, kid?” The door opened to reveal Russel again, looking down at her, the pinnacle of skepticism. “Uh, Josephine. But people call me Jo.” She shuffled her feet, not knowing if this was an invitation to come in, or perhaps more questions to see if she would slip up eventually. “Why isn’t your mom here instead, Jo?” Crap. “She doesn’t really have a lot of free time, and I’m old enough to be out on my own, so,” the gatekeeper raised an eyebrow, “I mean, it’s about me, so yeah. I’m here.” “And you’re SURE that you’ve got the right place?” He was starting to give in. “Absolutely positive.” Possibly the first sentence that she had without sounding like she knew what she was talking about. Russel sighed and held the door opening, allowing her entry into the elusive building. She took a moment to look around, everything oozing the popular image of Gorillaz. Pictures were sparse, but the way that it was decorated, you just couldn’t match it anyone other than a group that makes alternative music and has a penchant for a more abnormal side of life. “He’s not here right now, but he’s supposed to be back in a couple minutes. You can wait in the kitchen.” She followed him down a hallway as he continued to speak to her. It was impossible not to gawk at the odd idiosyncrasies of the house, the likes of which, even in normal rich people housing, she hadn’t come in contact with before. This was going to be an interesting meeting. They finally reached the kitchen, which reeked of college dorm life, despite the fact that most of the band members were in their forties. The sinks were stacked high with dirty dishes, with a smell wafting upward into the dingy light fixtures that had been around way longer than this building had. The fridge had been subject to so much usage that it looked like one of the after pictures in those before and after drugs ad campaigns. The floor and the rug under the rickety kitchen table gave a visual history of what had gone down in the kitchen, with obvious spills and stains, some food and some possibly not, that one had bothered to clean up. And the trash, though it wasn’t visible, sat, a quiet terror, by itself in the corner of the room, with flies hovering around it. “Okay, I’m pretty busy at the moment with something, but I’m not gonna leave you alone or anything. NOODLE!!” He yelled outside the door and up the stairway. Jo could feel her shoulders get less tense, as she knew who Noodle was, and already much preferred her company to Russel’s, even if she had never met. Not that she was that scared of any of the members, except perhaps Murdoc Niccals, whom she was hoping to avoid as much as possible, but Noodle was close to her in age, apparently, and seemed to have a general happy, kind, comforting, and fun-to-be-around disposition. The young Japanese woman entered the room, carrying a sense of ease with her. She scanned the room tentatively, swiftly locking her eyes on the out-of-place person awkwardly hovering near one of the chairs. “Who’s this?” She didn’t break her gaze to look at Russel. “This is Josephine, 2D’s kid, apparently. Look, I’d love to stick around and chat, but I need to finish work on that bear before it completely rots. Good luck, Jo.” “Nice meeting you…” Her voice faded out as he continued to walk down the hall not waiting for an answer. “Oh, that’s Russ. More concerned with taxidermy than with the family lives of the band. Anyway, I’m Noodle, nice to meet you!” She stuck out her hand, which Jo shook, with the same uncomfortableness that she had in all her interactions thus far. “Well, 2D isn’t here yet, but he should be back soon. Take a seat, I’ll get you something to drink,” she peered through the contents of the fridge, “Are you a fan of orange soda?” “Sure.” With noticeable deftness, Noodle placed a bottle of Fanta in front of her, pulling out Japanese soda for herself. “So,” she removed the bottle cap with her bare hands while Jo held in her shock, “You’re D’s kid?” “Uh, yeah,” Jo weakly screwed off the cap to her own drink, feeling a tad more terrified, “My mom is Kathleen Powell.” “How old are you?” She felt a tad like she was being interrogated, but at the same time, she was just glad to be in the house.” “I’m 15. 15 years. I was born in 2003.” “Where are you from?” “Uh, New Jersey. Lived there my whole life. I live pretty close to New York City, though.” “Why ARE you here?” “Um, I need to discuss something financial with Stuart,” Noodle subtly cringed at the use of his proper name, “I know, it’s more of a mom thing, but she doesn’t really have a lot of free time now, and she didn’t get off on the best note with Stuart, so I figured I would try.” “Does she know you’re here?” Jo was almost sure that Noodle was onto her at this point. “Yeah, of course.” Jo swallowed. Lying was hard. Noodle looked unconvinced. “Well, kid, relax!” Her face melted into a smile as she took a swig of her drink. Jo realized that she hadn’t touched her orange soda, and, not wanting to seem ungrateful, copied Noodle. “You seem nervous, but I promise, ‘D is a really nice guy. I’m sure he’ll be glad to talk to you.” Jo didn’t know her well enough to distinguish honesty from optimism, but either option would’ve done nothing to quell her nerves. “Are you sure, I mean,” Crap. She knew she shouldn’t be discussing this with what were essentially strangers, “I dunno, just like, his kid that he’s never seen shows up? Sorry, sorry, I shouldn’t’ve asked that, it’s just-“ “It’s okay. Calm down, kid,” she looked her in the eyes again, this time somewhat less intimidating, even comforting, “As someone who has known him for a long time, you’ll be fine. It might even be nice. And even if it turns out bad,” she smiled again, “I’ll be nice.” “Heh, thanks. Honestly, I didn’t think I’d get this far.” Noodle chuckled. “With Murdoc at the door, maybe not, but Russ would never turn a teenager claiming to be ‘D’s daughter out onto the street. Why did you show up in person, anyway? I’m sure you could’ve emailed.” “Well, mom’s not exactly liberal with his email, and it would’ve been really slow. It’s kinda urgent, I guess, which is why I showed up in person.” “I see.” Noodle took another swig, and Jo once again copied. “Anyway, let’s talk about you. I’m curious what ‘D’s kids are like. Do you listen to Gorillaz?” “Well, I was sort of getting into them when I was little, but my mom told me, who, uh, who my dad was when I was 11, and since then, it was kinda awkward listening to the music, so not really. But I have friends that play it sometimes, and I think it’s good.” “How so?” “Well, I like how it doesn’t really have a genre, ya know? Like maybe you could call it alternative, but honestly, it just does its own thing. And it’s always a really nice retreat from mainstream music, and, if my interpretation is right, it even criticizes mainstream music sometimes. It’s just so different, I guess.” “Hmmm,” Noodle closed her eyes pensively, “I like you already.” Her eyes slowly opened again, and it was the first time that Jo had felt truly relaxed in this strange building. “And who’s this?” The voice came from a lanky man with spiky blue hair, a gap tooth, and black voids where his eyes should be. Or, as Jo called him, her genetic father. Leaning against the doorway, in front of her. So much for being at ease.

*****

And chapter one comes to an overly-dramatic end!

Please comment! I love it when people interact with my writing.

Tune in next time for an actual interaction with blue boy himself!

[eleanor-writes-stuff]

oh baby, you could devastate me [one-shot]

moodboard courtesy of @reylocalligraphy

Rey works for the Admissions & Recruitment department at the University of Naboo because she loves her alma mater and never wants to leave. Kylo works for A&R because he's the disgraced former president of a for-profit university, and his mom told him to. When these two are paired up, things go... surprisingly well, actually.

Until they start sleeping together, that is.

For Day 5 - Alternate Universe of @reyloveweek.

Below please find nearly 10k words’ worth of a uni recruiters!AU. (Is that a thing? I’ve made it a thing. I apologize.) Also, my first M-rated fic ever.

Also available on AO3.

The summer after high school, Rey makes a two-hour drive to the nearest big city in order to attend a U of Naboo reception. It’s taken her all year to save up enough money for the trip, and she’s pretty sure it won’t lead to anything – this is the University of Naboo they’re talking about, and she only applied because her guidance counselor managed to get the application fee waived – but this might be the closest she’ll ever get to her dream school, and the forums tell her the food at these receptions are great, so off she goes.

She sits through an hour-long presentation, tries to pace herself at the buffet, and nearly smashes a plate full of tiny appetizers into the chest of one Amilyn Holdo, the provost herself.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry-” Rey stammers as she takes three steps backwards and sets her plate down on the nearest table. Half of the appetizers fell to the ground when she made a last-minute adjustment to avoid Holdo, and her cheeks burn with shame as two staff members rush forward to deal with the mess. She’s about to crouch down and help them when Holdo wraps one well-manicured hand around her elbow and gently pulls her away.

“It’s okay, Rey. I should’ve watched where I was going, really,” the woman says with a smile, and Rey can only blink at her dumbly while she processes that sentence.

“You… you know who I am?”

“Of course I do! Your essay has been making the rounds at the university, you know,” Holdo tells her almost proudly, referring to the essay Rey hates herself for writing, the one that’s all about the sob story she never tells anyone, the one her guidance counsellor had assured her would get the attention of the scholarship department. “We’re really looking forward to having you join us this fall. And on behalf of the university, I’d like to be the first to congratulate you – in person – on winning the scholarship. It was a close call – we always get such strong applicants – but I fully believe you deserve it.”

And that’s how Rey learns that she’s won a life-changing full ride to the University of Naboo, courtesy of the Padmé Amidala Education Fund.

The next two months are a whirlwind of selecting her courses and uprooting her entire life and applying for part-time job after part-time job, but it’s all worth it – the past two months of planning and the past year of waiting and the past eighteen years of hard work – the second Rey sets foot on campus.

For the first time in her life, she feels at home.

A week before graduation, Rey gets an email that sends her sprinting back home.

“Finn!” she calls out to the empty apartment the second she gets home. “Finn! I got the job!”

Her roommate comes running out of his room and charges at her, picks her up in a huge bear hug and allows himself five seconds of excited, high-pitched squealing. “Me too! I just got the email!”

They scream in joy and dance around the apartment and pop open a bottle of sparkling juice that’s been gathering dust since their housewarming party three years ago.

A month later Rey and Finn show up for their first day of work at the Admissions and Recruitment department, a job that’ll allow them to stay in the safe and familiar bubble that is U of Naboo indefinitely even though they’ve just graduated.

Poe Dameron, head of the department and Finn’s longtime crush, takes it upon himself to personally show them around an office they’re more than familiar with and introduce them to staff members they’ve already known for years, thanks to their work as student ambassadors. “Best job ever,” Finn gushes in a low whisper when Poe reminds them that their work as recruiters will include a lot of travel.

The first few weeks go remarkably well.  They’re paired up with various members of the department to learn the ins and outs of the job, and their first major assignment – a briefing for that fall’s incoming students – goes off without a hitch.

By October, Poe decides they’re ready to travel.

“Rey, you and Jessika will be heading to Coruscant,” Poe tells her, and she bites on her lip to hide her smile when Finn lightly elbows her and excitedly mouths Coruscant!!! at her. “You’ll be hitting up a lot of high schools and a few education fairs, but I’m sure you’ll be able to handle it. And Jessika is one of our most experienced staff members, so you’re in good hands.”

“Finn,” their boss says next, and there’s no mistaking the apologetic look on his face. “This was totally random, we needed someone to pair him up with and he’s burned through half of the department already-”

“Oh, no,” Finn says, holding his hands up as he takes a step backwards. “No no no, please don’t say-”

“You’ll be heading to Canto Bight with Ren.”

Rey watches with equal measures of sympathy and amusement as Finn stomps his foot. “Poe,” he whines. “You know he hates me.”

“I’m beginning to think he hates everyone,” Poe mutters under his breath before he starts comforting Finn and assuring him it won’t be that bad.

It is that bad, Rey figures when Finn sends her four disgruntled texts within the first hour of his trip with Ren. Canto Bight is a city best described as an excess of extravagance, and Rey knows that Finn will instantly fall in love with the glitz and glam of the place. It’s a shame that he has to share the experience with Kylo Ren, the surliest member of their department and a notoriously difficult person to work with.

On their own flight to Coruscant, Jessika fills her in on Ren’s checkered past, the highlight of which has to be his involvement with a for-profit uni that turned out to be a scam. “They shut the whole place down, even threw the founder in jail, I think,” Jessica whispers over a dinner of surprisingly tolerable airplane food. “The only reason Ren didn’t go down with him is because they found out he really didn’t know anything about the scam. It was all Snoke and Armitage Hux, who was CFO of the parent company. Ren cooperated with the investigation and testified against them both, and when it was all over Leia Organa dragged him back home and insisted that he apply for a job here.”

“Leia Organa?” Rey asks in confusion, wondering why the President of the university would involve herself in something like this.

“Oh, I forgot,” Jessika sets down her cutlery and turns to Rey. “Mrs. Organa’s his mom. They try to keep it a secret, so that people don’t think she got him the job. Though really, if nepotism were involved you’d think Mrs. Organa could’ve done better than a lowly recruiter position in Admissions and Recruitment. Not that I don’t love our jobs, but… you know. The guy was president. And she’s the president. It’s obvious she wasn’t involved in this beyond making him apply.”

“Right,” she mutters absently as Jessika goes back to her food, her mind reeling from this new information. They don’t talk about Ren again for the rest of the flight, and when Rey lands she busies herself with catching up on her messages while Jessika takes advantage of the duty-free shops.

Worst job ever, Finn’s latest text reads. Pray you never get paired up with Kylo Ren.

Rey manages to go a full year before Poe comes to her with that all-too-familiar look of preemptive apology.

“Fuck,” she mutters as Poe hands her a file, unease pooling in her stomach. A year is plenty of time to hear all of the department’s worst horror stories about Ren, and she’s been dreading this moment ever since Finn’s first run-in with the man.

“I’m sorry, Rey,” Poe says, and she knows he means it but still. “He’s worked with literally everyone else, and not a single one of them is willing to do it again.”

That reminder really doesn’t help. “You’re making it worse,” Rey tells him as she flips the file open to find nearly a year’s worth of scheduled trips. “What the hell, Poe? You’re making me work with him permanently?”

“No! God, no!” he exclaims, taking the file from Rey. “This is Ren’s schedule, not yours. You’ll be heading to Coruscant with him,” Poe points out the details for the Coruscant trip, which seems to be more or less the same as the one she took with Jess a year ago. “And we’ll see how it goes from there.”

“What do you mean, we’ll see how it goes from there?” Rey asks warily.

Poe sets the file down on her desk and sighs. “Look, I’ve been watching you work for a while now and I think you and Kylo could really get along. Not as friends or anything, but I think if anyone in this office can work with him, it’s you. You don’t let others get you down, so I know he’s not going to depress you or anything, but you also don’t put up with bullshit, so he won’t be able to walk all over you.”

In some strange way, all of that is probably a compliment since it’s coming from her boss. But pretty words aren’t going to distract Rey from the matter at hand. “So this is a trial run for some kind of, what, permanent partnership?”

“Only if you’re okay with it,” Poe assures her. “I promise, Rey, if you really hate him then we’ll just go back to making him work with rotating partners. But I really think this could work, if you’d just give it a chance.”

Poe gives her those puppy dog eyes Finn is such a sucker for, and she caves with a heavy sigh. “Fine. One trip. And then we’ll see how it goes.”

Badly, Rey predicts as Poe thanks her. It can only go badly.

They decide to meet at the airport after a string of brief, to-the-point emails discussing their upcoming assignment. Ren is seldom in the office – god knows what he gets up to, but it’s not like anyone’s going to complain about not having him around – and the few times she’s spotted him skulking around, Rey has gone out of her way to avoid interacting with him in person.

Which means that when she walks up to him at the airport on a chilly October morning and introduces herself, it’s the very first time she hears his voice – his normal speaking voice, that is. Everyone in the office has overheard his occasional heated debate with Poe behind closed doors.

“So you’re the girl I’ve heard so much about,” Kylo muses as they shake hands, and the combination of his thoughtful tone and his low voice nearly knocks Rey off her feet. Isn’t this the guy who routinely yells at Poe about mismanaged funds and unnecessary trips? Isn’t this the guy who greets everyone with a scowl, then proceeds to ignore them as much as possible?

Flabbergasted, Rey turns to her default setting when meeting strangers: suspicious. “What do you mean?” she asks warily, pulling her hand out of Kylo’s when she realizes they’re sort of just…holding hands.

It’s not unpleasant.

Kylo shrugs; the motion looks out of place on his broad shoulders, too casual for a man who routinely stalks around the office and leaves a cloud of gloom and doom behind him. “Everyone in A&R loves you. Even Poe gushes about you all the fucking time. It’s like you’re God’s gift to this whole damn department.”

Poe does not gush – not unless it’s about Finn, anyway – but Rey’s too busy taking offense at that last muttered bit to contradict him on his claim. “I just care about my job,” she crosses her arms and narrows her eyes at Kylo, “unlike some people.”

He stares at her for a beat, something incomprehensible clouding his eyes while he scrutinizes her. Finally Kylo sighs, shakes his head, and throws a mumbled “whatever” over his shoulder as he turns his back on her and proceeds towards the check-in counter.

Rey feels oddly guilty as she scurries off to catch up to him, and she spends the rest of their time in the airport dissecting their brief conversation to figure out whether she was needlessly rude.

But this is Kylo Ren – the bane of their department’s existence, the asshole who insisted on referring to Finn by his employee ID. No matter how gentle or teasing or whatever his tone had been, none of what he’d said to her could possibly have been anything than a snide insult… right?

It’s a five-hour flight to Coruscant, which is all the way on the other side of the country. As soon as they’re in the air and the seatbelt signs are turned off, Rey reaches for her laptop and starts working on her slides for their presentation.

“This is a waste of time,” Kylo mutters as he flips through their itinerary. “Coruscant U is our biggest rival, and they’ve beaten us in the rankings for two years now. Anyone there with the grades and money to get into a top five uni has probably already applied and accepted an offer to go to CU.”

Rey bites her tongue, counts to ten, and plasters on some semblance of an encouraging smile – her best customer service smile, Finn calls it – before she turns to her downer of a colleague. “CU might have beaten us in pre-med and law, but we’re still globally #1 when it comes to the arts and engineering. We’ve also got more reasonable tuition, more famous faculty, and the biggest university library on this continent.”

Kylo shakes his head at her. “Sure,” he scoffs derisively, but his pinched features have given way to something almost like a smile. “Kids will definitely pick a university based on library sizes.”

“I did,” Rey shrugs as she goes back to tinkering with the size and color of her text. From the corner of her eye she sees Kylo still turned towards her, still watching her. There’s an awareness around his presence, of his presence, that she’s never really felt with anyone else. But then again, she’s never spent a full year hearing about and dreading and avoiding anyone else, either. That’s all there is to it, she tells herself.

“Did you?” Kylo asks after a while. “Pick U of N because of the library, I mean.”

“Among other things,” she says, as if U of N hadn’t become her dream school the day Luke Skywalker joined their faculty, as if the deciding factor had been anything other than a full scholarship. These are things Finn and Poe and Jessika know about her, things they earned with respect and friendship and common decency.

Kylo Ren hasn’t earned any of that, but he does earn some brownie points when halfway through the flight he turns to her and says, “That would’ve worked on me. Your pitch from earlier, about our arts program and our tuition and the library. It was a good pitch. I see why the department loves you.”

It’s the longest string of sentences she’s ever heard him put together, heated debates with Poe included. When she lands, a text from Finn awaits: how’s it going? I know he’s a monster but please don’t kill him, he’s sorta childhood friends with Poe and that would be awkward.

Rey sneaks a look at Kylo, standing by the baggage carousel after offering to wait for her bag if she’d get them both some coffee in return. When he catches her looking, he offers her the tiniest of smiles.

She smiles back and shoots off a reply to Finn. Surprisingly well, actually.

When Rey comes into work with a smile on her face a week later, Poe follows her to her cubicle with baited breath.

“So…” he produces a to-go cup of her favorite coffee and hands the blatant bribe to her nonchalantly. “How’d it go?”

She takes her time sipping her coffee, setting up her computer, pulling her planner out of her bag. When her boss starts wringing his hands in obvious unease, Rey tilts her head and allows her hair to fall forward and hide the smile tugging on her lips at Poe’s expense.

“Rey,” Poe finally snaps when she pulls up a blank document and pretends she’s going to start typing up her report right there and then.

“Oh, right,” she turns to him with an innocent smile, lets it widen into a grin when Poe huffs at her. “It went okay. You can go ahead and partner us up for the rest of the year.”

Poe blinks at her.

Rey stares back.

“Oh my god, you mean it?” he exclaims loudly, his voice drawing the attention of her cubicle mates. Poe clears his throat and pulls an empty chair up to her table. “Rey, you’re serious? You’ll do this for me?”

She rolls her eyes at him. “Not everything is about you, Poe. But yes, your days of Kylo roulette are over. No more blindly selecting his next victim and getting all the blame for it.”

Poe draws even more attention when he lunges forward and picks her up off her chair, drawing a surprised yelp from Rey when he pulls her into a hug. “Thank you, thank you, thank you!”

The rest of the office casts them puzzled looks that slowly morph into expressions of sheer relief when Poe whispers the news into Jessika’s ear, who quickly spreads it like wildfire.

For the next week, Rey is treated like a benevolent goddess, sent from the heavens above to take pity on Kylo’s poor, tormented colleagues. Every single day there’s someone waiting to treat her to lunch (and a horror story or two about their time with Kylo), and no one steals any of her snacks from the breakroom as a silent gesture of appreciation.

The first few times she comes back from an assignment with Kylo, she’s painfully aware of everyone’s eyes on her, of everyone holding their breath and waiting for her to declare that she’s changed her mind and he can be someone else’s problem because she’s done.

It never happens, and slowly life at the office settles into a new normal – a ‘normal’ which now includes Kylo smiling at her whenever they’re both at the office.

The rumors shouldn’t come as a surprise, but they do anyway.

She remains blissfully unaware of the office’s favorite gossip topic for the first four months of their partnership. And then–

“Jessika thinks you and Ren are sleeping with each other,” Finn declares at lunch one day, prompting Rey to choke on her sandwich while Jess punches Finn in the arm.

“No, I don’t!” she cries defensively while Rey struggles to catch her breath in between bouts of coughing. “It’s just something Rose said about them. Right, Rose?”

Rose, who’d been in the midst of offering Rey a glass of water, freezes. “What? No, no, it was definitely not me. Snap, didn’t you say something about Ren the other day?”

Poor Snap stares at them with his best deer-in-headlights look and shakes so hard his fork clatters to the ground. “It’s just. He smiles. At you. A lot.”

“So what?” Rey rasps, her voice still scratchy from the coughing. She clears her throat a few times before adding, “I smile at all of you a lot. It just means we’re friends.”

“Yeah, buuut…” Jessika trails off with a shrug as everyone else shares a knowing look.

“He doesn’t really smile at anyone else,” Rose points out gently. “And the way he looks at you…” she sighs, looking dangerously close to swooning.

“Look, I hate to admit it,” Finn says quietly as he leans forward, blocking the others out from their conversation. “But Ren actually acts like a person around you. That’s got to count for something, right?”

“Oh god,” Rey groans, letting her head fall forward into her hands. “Not you too, Finn.”

Finn gets the message and forcefully changes the topic to his budding relationship with Poe – because he really is the best friend a girl could ask for – while Rey composes herself. She joins the conversation a few minutes later, and shoves all of these ridiculous ideas about her relationship with Kylo to the back of her mind.

The thing is… Kylo does smile at her an awful lot, doesn’t he? She’s never even seen him smile at Poe, and they’ve apparently been friends since they were in diapers. And there have been times, on the plane first thing in the morning or at the bar after a long day or even just on the way to their separate rooms, when they accidentally fall asleep on each other’s shoulders or their knees bump or their hands brush – times when Rey wonders, what if?

So two days later, when they’re having drinks together at a hotel bar in Corellia after a long day of briefing sessions, Rey finds herself saying, “The entire department thinks we’re hooking up.”

Kylo sets down his whiskey, a local variety he appears to begrudgingly appreciate. All of a sudden Rey finds herself wondering why she didn’t just ask about that instead of blurting out the first thought that came to mind. “And why is that?” he asks, turning around in his bar stool to face her.

“Just, you know,” Rey falters, swipes at the salt on the rim of her glass and absentmindedly licks at her finger out of habit. Somewhere between licking the salt off her finger and finding the courage to face Kylo, her brain finally catches up to her actions and points out, in a rather panicky and loud voice, just how obscene that gesture could be in the wrong situation – a situation like this one, where you’re discussing why your colleagues think you’re sleeping together.

In the dim lighting of the bar, she thinks she spots a smirk playing on his lips.

“Because you’re not an asshole to me,” she blurts out, shoving her margarita glass aside so forcefully the contents nearly slosh over the rim. “They think that just because we get along it has to mean something. You know, because you’re legendarily awful to everyone else.”

“Is that all?” Kylo raises one skeptical brow, because of course the man has perfected the single-raised-brow look. Rey suspects that in any other situation, it might be an effective manner in which to convey disappointment while still giving off an air of superiority, somehow. But in this case, it comes across as a challenge – familiar ground, then, in this odd partnership of theirs.

“There was something about the way you look at me,” Rey adds almost casually as she moves closer, turns to mimic Kylo’s position and shifts her feet to his footrest so that her legs are bracketed by his. He leans in, presses the length of his legs up against hers.

“How do I look at you, Rey?”

He’s warm where they touch and his voice makes her toes curl and still, still there’s that familiar glint of a challenge in his eyes even as they flit down to her lips for the briefest of moments before they move back to her eyes.

“You tell me,” Rey hears herself saying as she moves to the edge of her seat, close enough for her knees to graze the inside of Kylo’s thighs.

“Rey,” he murmurs, eyes searching hers as one hand reaches out to curve around her hip, warm and heavy and not enough. “Are we doing this?”

She backs away, hops off her stool and watches a flicker of disappointment flash through Kylo’s eyes before he sets his features into a polite mask. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have pushed-”

“Kylo,” she can’t help but smile at him, at the way he perks up like an overeager puppy when she curls a hand around his arm and makes her intentions known. “Settle the tab. I’ll be upstairs.”

Then, for good measure, Rey leans in close enough for her lips to brush his ear and whispers, “Don’t keep me waiting.”

Kylo goes back to his own room after – they’ve still got some packing to do – and they don’t talk about it on the flight home the next morning. They talk, instead, about the whiskey he both hates and loves, about the father he both hates and loves. Somehow, it feels more intimate than what they’d shared the night before.

Two days later they find themselves in Jakku, and Rey finds herself drowning in memories when she’d rather be drowning in him. She sticks close to him as they make their way to their rooms at the one respectable inn the town has to offer, and as soon as Kylo opens his door she’s pushing him past the threshold and into bed.

After, while Rey stares out the window at the oppressive, suffocating sight of the never-ending wasteland she once called home, Kylo takes it upon himself to do some research on this one-horse town they’ve somehow found themselves in.

“Why are we even here?” he wonders out loud after going through some unhelpful data. Jakku is a tiny town, with an even tinier population. As far as prospective students go, they only ever get a handful of applicants at most each year. It makes no sense whatsoever for the university to have channeled any money or manpower here at all, let alone two of their best recruiters. “I know I said Coruscant was a waste of money, but this, this really makes no sense at all. Why did the department even–”

“It wasn’t the department,” Rey says quietly, her hunched back still turned to him, her unfocused eyes still staring out at the desert. “Necessity is the mother of all invention, right? That’s what they say, at least,” she shrugs, twisting slightly so that half of her face is visible to him, so that all of him is visible to her.

Kylo watches her with confusion on his face but patience in his eyes. Somehow he knows to set down his tablet, to crawl across the bed and move closer to her.

“Necessity is a fact of life here in Jakku,” she tells him, pressing her cheek to the sun-warmed glass as Kylo comes to sit right at the edge of the bed, just two feet away from the ratty old armchair she’s curled up in. “It’s all we ever know, from the day we’re left in this desert until the day we leave it. You’d be surprised what kind of innovation that can lead to.”

“You’re from here,” Kylo realizes out loud, his voice uncharacteristically gentle and hushed.

“I grew up here,” Rey murmurs. “I thought that all the things I did, all the things Jakku kids grow up knowing how to do, were just ordinary skills – or less than that, even, because none of us learned from proper schools or fancy textbooks or futuristic labs. And then I went to Naboo and I realized that none of this is normal, none of this is even close to average.”

Finally she tears her eyes away from the window, turns back to Kylo and his understanding eyes. “There are kids here who are just like me. Kids who’ve had to make do with scraps all their lives, kids who are more creative and intelligent and inventive than you could ever believe. They might not make it to Naboo– not everyone can be as lucky, even if they deserve to be – but I just want them to know that someone believes in their potential, that they have potential.”

She reaches for his hand, and Kylo tugs at her until Rey turns her back on the desert and moves back to him. “Let’s get back to work, then,” he says even as he pulls her into his lap and wraps his arms around her waist. “I want this to be our best presentation ever. They deserve that much.”

Rey smiles, wraps her arms around his neck and kisses him slow and lazy. “You’re not all bad, Kylo Ren,” she declares with a grin.

“Call me Ben,” he murmurs against her lips, pulls her back in and holds her close.

They don’t talk about it.

They don’t talk about it when they fall asleep in each other’s arms, or when they wake up and head to the airport together. They don’t talk about it when they run into each other at the office, or around campus. They don’t talk at all outside of work, in fact, and even at work they only ever discuss upcoming assignments.

But it works, somehow. Rey knows it can’t last, knows Kylo – call me Ben, he’d told her, but somehow she knows that only applies to very specific situations, the ones they don’t talk about – probably never meant for it to. But for now, as long as they’re traveling every week, as long as they can disappear into a world of their own every now and then, it works.

Two months after that first night in Corellia, they find themselves in Kylo’s birthplace of Hanna City, Chandrila. He’s tense the entire flight there, grumpy as hell when they land, and he outright ignores anyone who recognizes him.

Their presentation at the local high school is… difficult, especially when one of the teachers turns out to have been a classmate of Kylo’s back in the day and keeps trying to rope him into some reminiscing. After, when they’ve dumped everything back in their rooms and Kylo suggests hitting up the hotel bar, Rey comes up with a different idea.

“There’s a beach here, isn’t there? And the sea?” she asks, going through tourist attraction pamphlets on his coffee table while Kylo changes out of his work clothes.

“Rey,” he pokes his head out from around the bathroom, “I’m not exactly in the mood for sightseeing.”

She neatly rearranges the pamphlets, stands up and crosses the room to lean against the bathroom doorway while he finger-combs his hair. “Please, Ben? I’ve never been to the beach.”

Kylo catches her eye in the mirror, sighs and turns around to face her. “Only because you’ve never been,” he tells her and then adds, with an unexpected tinge of hometown pride, “and because Hanna City has some of the most beautiful beaches in the world.”

The beach closest to their hotel, the one his parents used to bring him to as a toddler, truly is beautiful. It’s too bad that Rey is too busy making out with Kylo and laughing at his muttered complaints about sand to pay much attention to it.

“Can’t do anything in this fucking sand,” he mumbles against her neck as if she hadn’t grown up in a desert, and then he picks her up and carries her away from the beach, Rey shrieking with laughter and poking fun at him the entire time.

Together they travel the country and even some neighboring nations, and between it all they don’t even trade so much as a text message while they’re home. For their grand finale that summer, before the freshmen come pouring in and it’s all hands on deck back home to welcome the students, Poe sends them off on a months-long international trip.

Not going home between trips means no sudden silences, no prolonged absences. Rey loves every minute of it, loves having Ben as her one constant while they jet from one foreign place to another and deliver their well-rehearsed presentations and speeches.

And Ben – well, Ben seems to like it just as much, because by the time they reach their final stop, he has no qualms about wrapping an arm around her waist as they walk into their hotel.

Maz’s Castle is said to be the finest hotel in Takodana, and any questions Rey had about why the department had shelled out the money to put them up here are laid to rest the second a tiny old woman heaves herself up on the counter.

“Ben Solo! You don’t write, you don’t call, and when you finally do visit you bring along some pretty young thing instead of that handsome uncle of yours?”

“Hi, Maz,” Ben smiles as they reach the counter, and he lets go of Rey to hug the tiny woman who’s apparently the Maz Kanata. “Uncle Chewie says hi, of course. He misses you.” Even with her perched on the counter, Ben still has to bend down to reach her. It’s adorable, Rey thinks. She’s adorable, all tiny and wizened with glasses that look more like goggles and lenses that give her the illusion of goldfish eyes.

Those goldfish eyes stop being as adorable when they’re focused on her. “So, this is the girl you’ve chosen to bring home to your aunt Maz,” she says to Ben as she studies Rey from head to toe. It’s unnerving, it’s as bad as all of her nightmares about running into Leia Organa, and it takes what feels like an eternity but is probably less than a minute.

Maz nods decisively, holds out her hand and yanks Rey into a surprise hug when she reaches for a handshake. “Welcome, dear. We’re so happy to have you here.”

“Um, thank you,” Rey says, smiling despite her confusion. She catches Ben’s eye over Maz’s shoulder and does her best to convey how lost she is, but Ben simply shrugs and mouths just go with it, grinning all the while.

It makes him look boyish and happy and young. Young, happy, boyish Ben Solo does things to her, things she should not be contemplating while an ancient woman is hugging her.

“Okay!” Maz scoots backwards and hops off the counter, climbs up a stepstool and adjusts her glasses as she types something into the computer. “Knew you were coming, so I’ve prepared a special surprise for you,” she tells Ben conspiratorially. “Our best cabin by the lake! It’s a beautiful lake, and there’s a lovely view of the forest too, you’ll just love it,” the little old lady assures Rey with a wink.

“Maz, you didn’t have to–” Ben begins to protest.

“Of course I didn’t have to, darling, I don’t have to do anything and haven’t for a very long time now,” she sniffs almost imperiously. “But I wanted to, and so I did. Now off you go, I have better things to do around here than squabble with you Solos. Lovely meeting you, dear,” Maz tells her, and with one last nod at Ben she motions for a young woman to replace her before disappearing into a door at the end of the check-in counter.

“Hello, Mr. and Mrs. Solo. It says here that you’ll be staying in one of our lovely lake cabins for the next–”

Rey is painfully aware of how rude she’s being, but she can’t stop herself from turning to Ben to whisper, “Mr. and Mrs. Solo?”

The smile he gives her is pinched. “Maz’s idea of a joke,” Ben tells her flatly, and they don’t speak of it again as the woman finishes her introductory speech and hands them their keys.

There’s barely time to appreciate the cabin before they’re rushing to get showered and changed for the evening’s reception, and they take turns using the hair dryer while making last-minute changes to their Welcome to life in Naboo! presentation.

The rest of the day is a blur of coordinating with hotel staff and welcoming attendees and mingling with alumni, and by the end of the night they’re both so drained from traveling and interacting and presenting that they end up just falling into bed and dozing off almost immediately.

Rey dreams in disorientating snippets that night, jump cut after jump cut with barely anything in between, just a never-ending series of hotels and smiling receptionists and bookings made under the name Mr. and Mrs. Solo.

She wakes to the sound of birdsong, the gentle warmth of diffused sunlight, and a hand between her thighs.

“What time is it?” she asks in lieu of a good morning, moving closer to Ben without opening her eyes.

“Nine,” he murmurs against her bare skin, presses a kiss to her shoulder as his free hand snakes underneath her to cup her breast. “Still three hours before we have to be at the airport. Plenty of time to spare.”

Rey blinks as the world slowly comes into focus, smiles to herself at the sight of Ben’s eager hands moving underneath her tank top and pushing her underwear aside. She lets him work in silence for a while, helps him along by reaching down to take over when he finally slips two fingers inside her.

Ben nuzzles into her neck while they move in tandem, a well-practiced team at this point when it comes to preparing her for him. He speeds up when her breath starts coming out in sharp little gasps, slows down when she finally melts into him and turns around to blindly place an appreciative kiss somewhere on his upper arm. Rey knocks his hand aside while she regains her breath, and he takes the opportunity to properly divest the both of them of what little clothing they’d worn to sleep the night before.

“Like this?” Ben asks when Rey starts squirming against him, her back to his front, and waits for her to hum a small mm-hmm before he lines them up and pushes into her as if they have all the time in the world.

She tries very hard not to think of the fact that this is their last trip together for the foreseeable future, that this might be the last time she’ll ever get to share this with Ben. But it’s soft and slow and he’s whispering sweet nothings into her hair, and all Rey can think of is Mr. and Mrs. Solo and the fact that Ben has never once shown even the slightest interest in meeting up with her back home.

“You okay?” Ben murmurs, and Rey realizes that at some point she’s stopped moving with him.

“Perfect,” she claims, turns around to give him a smile and a chaste peck before she reaches for the hand around her hip and moves it to press down on her lower abdomen, right over the bulge of him inside her.

Ben moans at the feeling, his breath warm and ticklish on the sensitive skin right under her ear. Rey presses as close to him as humanly possible, clutches at his arm and begs him to go harder, bites back the desperate plea bubbling up her throat to make me forget, please, Ben, make me forget this is the last time make me forget this isn’t forever.

“Rey–” Ben chokes out her name, snakes his hand down to where she needs him. “So close, sweetheart.”

Their time together is drawing to a close, and Rey realizes with a burst of panic that she’s been so worried about it ending that she hasn’t taken the time to fully appreciate it, to feel everything and commit all of it to memory. She closes her eyes and makes a conscious effort to clear her mind of everything but this, everything but Ben and her and how they feel together.

“Me too,” she whispers as Ben’s movements start growing erratic, his lips dotting little kisses along her neck as he rubs tight, frantic circles into her clit.

He comes first, muffles a loud Rey by sinking his teeth into her shoulder. The intimacy and bittersweetness of it all pushes her over the edge not long after, and Rey twists uncomfortably in Ben’s arms to bury her face in his neck as she falls apart.

The sun has climbed higher now, past the canopy of trees. When Rey finally gives in to her aching muscles and turns back, she glimpses a thousand dazzling pinpricks of light dancing on the surface of the lake in between the gaps of their curtains.

It’s beautiful, and Rey mourns briefly for the fact that they didn’t even have the time to appreciate the view during their short stay.

She wants to voice her thoughts, wants Ben to hold her tight and promise her they’ll come back here someday and see everything together. But her phone goes off before she can come to a decision, an alarm set for 9:30 lighting up her screen, and suddenly it’s time to shower and pack and grab something to eat.

In the cab, on the way to the airport, Ben wraps an arm around her and looks at her with a tiny little furrow between his brows. “Are you okay? You’ve been a bit quiet this morning.”

“I’m great,” Rey assures him with a plastered-on smile, the one she hasn’t given him in months. It doesn’t set him at ease. “Just, you know, thinking about home and the office and real life. It’s going to be weird, adjusting to everything again.”

Ben’s arm slips from her waist and he retreats to his side of the backseat. “Yeah,” he mutters, looking out the window. “Weird.”

She knows that today’s the end, knows that it’s time to slowly start the adjustment process, but a part of her had hoped that Ben would at least play along until they land in Theed. Instead he pulls away from her at the first mention of their lives back home, and for the rest of the journey they barely talk aside from the occasional inane comment about last night’s reception.

At the baggage carousel, Ben wordlessly picks up their bags and hands Rey her carry-on and her suitcase before he shoulders his weekend bag and checks to make sure that his common black luggage is actually his.

“All right,” he says once he’s satisfied with his inspection, straightens up and runs a hand through his hair, looks at her without ever really meeting her eyes. “See you around, Rey.”

And with that, he walks off.

Finn comes over later that night with their usual celebratory Chinese to welcome her home. The minute he catches sight of her red-rimmed eyes, he turns around and walks back the way he came. “I’m going to kill that bastard,” he seethes, and Rey rushes out of her apartment barefoot and clad only in an oversized tee-shirt to stop him.

“No, Finn, come back. It’s not his fault,” she says weakly, pulls her best friend back into the safety of her home and locks the door behind her.

“You come home after two months with Kylo ‘Asshole’ Ren only for me to find you crying your heart out and somehow you expect me to believe it’s not his fault?” Finn demands, albeit gently.

“It really isn’t,” Rey insists, swiping at her eyes while she attempts to focus on unpacking the food he’s brought. “It’s just… it’s me. This one’s on me. God, Finn,” she chokes on a sob, slams down a pair of disposable chopsticks so hard they snap in half. “How could I have been so stupid?”

Finn rushes forward and pries the chopsticks out of her hands, inspects her for splinters before he guides her to the couch. “Hey. Talk to me, peanut. What’s going on here?”

The thing is, Rey’s been keeping it together – somewhat. Sure, her heart had broken at the sight of Kylo walking away from her at the airport. And fine, so maybe she had cried a bit while unpacking her bags only to be greeted with little memories of their time together. But for the most part, she’s been fine – up until Finn turns those big, worried eyes on her, calls her peanut, and pulls her into a familiar, comforting hug.

She clutches at his shirt and muffles a wail against his chest, and it’s like she’s opened the bloody floodgates because no matter how hard she tries, she can’t stop crying for even one fucking minute to give Finn a much-needed explanation.

Finn, to his credit, just holds her tight and runs a soothing hand up and down her back until she calms down.

“I’m gonna get you some water,” he says when Rey finally pulls back, diplomatically giving her a private moment to wipe her tears away and blow her nose.

Rey takes the glass from him with a shaky smile, sips at it while she tries to gather her thoughts and Finn turns the TV on but keeps it on mute. Finally, she settles into her nest of pillows on the far side of the couch and regards her best friend – her first friend, her oldest friend. He might well be the only person on Earth she’ll ever be able to admit this to, and so she does.

“I love him, Finn,” Rey confesses in a whisper, and it’s as much a revelation to herself as it is to Finn. Somehow, she hadn’t known the full extent of her feelings right up until the very second those words decided to escape her.

“I love Kylo Ren, and he doesn’t feel anything for me.”

Rey has spent her whole life studying the mechanics of addiction, trying to figure out how her parents could’ve been so far gone as to abandon their own child in the name of their endless quest for alcohol. She’ll never fully understand them, but she likes to think that at least this way she’ll never be like them.

But the part of Rey that misses him, the part of her that craves him the way her parents must’ve craved their next drink… that part of her isn’t something she’s proud of, but it isn’t something she can deny either.

So when Poe hands her a proper assignment sandwiched between a dozen on-campus student engagement activities, Rey jumps at the chance to see him again, to be near him again, even if it’ll only break her heart even more. All she wants is another hit, no matter the cost.

She wakes up bright and early on the first day of the Naboo Education Fair, held on the first week of October every year. The U of N booth is basically the fair’s crowning jewel, and every year the department sends two senior staff members to supervise the student ambassadors on their first day to make sure everything’s properly set up.

It’s her first time being assigned to the fair, but Rey barely even notices. She gets in the car an hour before she needs to leave, drops by the nearest café to pick up drinks for the both of them. There’s a joke around the office that Kylo is definitely the kind of person to drink coffee as black and bitter as his soul, but none of them have seen Ben fumbling with his coffee first thing in the morning, scooping in lump after lump of sugar and creamer until the drink is practically a dessert. It takes Rey a good five minutes to modify the drink to his liking, and as she walks out of the café she takes pity on the poor, horrified barista.

At ten to eight, Rey strolls into the office fully prepared to give Kylo a polite smile along with his cup of coffee, to pretend that he didn’t break her heart.

Instead, she finds herself face to face with Jessika Pava.

“Jess! What are you doing here?” Rey asks, her eyes discreetly scanning the rest of the office for Kylo even as understanding dawns upon her.

“Isn’t this exciting? Poe just called me yesterday, said Ren has something else to do and asked me to cover for him. I said yes soon as I heard what it was for and who I’d be partnered with. We haven’t worked together in ages! Oh, is that for me?” Jess asks, reaching for the cup of coffee.

“Um, I mean, you can have it. But be careful, it’s–”

Rey scrunches up her nose as Jess chokes down the coffee. “Holy mother of diabetes, what is this?” she asks, holding the cup at arm’s length. “It’s worse than one of those Starbucks frappes.”

“It was for Ren,” Rey mutters, taking the cup from Jess as they make their way outside.

“Was it a prank? Rey, that’s brilliant!” Jess laughs as they make their way to the sidewalk. Rey should’ve noticed Jess’ car parked out front, she realizes as she dumps the contents of the cup into a patch of grass before throwing the cup itself into the trash.

They decide to take Jess’ car – Rey puts up significantly less of a fight than she normally would have, but Jess doesn’t notice – and she uses the rest of the hour-long trip to the convention center to snap herself out of it and dive into work.

She ends up volunteering to supervise the fair for the rest of the week, but she needn’t have bothered – Finn tells her Ren doesn’t show up at the office the entire week, and Poe explains that he’s been borrowed by the President’s office for a bit since they’re short-staffed this semester.

Rey doesn’t buy it for one second, but it’s not like her opinion matters to him anyway. She throws herself into work, takes charge of every assignment that’s up for grabs, and somehow manages to make it all the way to Christmas before she sees Kylo again.

Well, see isn’t exactly the right term for it.

She catches a glimpse of him at the office holiday party, towering a full head above everyone else, and her heart starts beating so fast it physically hurts. Kylo turns around, definitely sees her too, because before she can gather up the nerve to say hi his head is bobbing away in the opposite direction.

He avoids her for the entire night, as if to really drive home the point that whatever they had is in the past now. Rey gets the message loud and clear, but that doesn’t stop her heart from aching for him anyway.

God, she misses him so much, and he can’t even be bothered to say the briefest of hellos to her. How are they ever going to work together again?

Even worse – what if they never work together again?

January rolls around and with it comes a new travel schedule.

To Rey’s surprise, she finds she’s been partnered up with Kylo again. To her total and utter lack of surprise, he goes ahead and boards the plane separately, greets her with a curt nod, and doesn’t say anything to her for the entirety of their flight to Canto Bight.

Canto Bight is too loud, too bright, with too rich kids ready to throw an obscene amount of money at Naboo as long as it means getting into a top five school and getting their parents off their backs. Rey hates every second of it – hates how her cheeks start to hurt from her fake smile, hates how some of the prospective students are clearly paying more attention to her body than her slides, hates how Kylo doesn’t say a single word to her all evening.

He comes to stand by her side as she thanks the attendees and wishes them a good night, and every single fiber of her being reacts to his physical proximity in a way that makes her want to tear her heart out and throw it into the ocean.

“So,” one of the rude douchebags from earlier saunters up to her, gives her a clear once-over as he picks her business card up from the table, “guess I’ve got your number now.”

“My work number, yes,” Rey says, feeling her smile start to crack as the rest of the boys join their friend. From the looks on their faces, she’s in for even more insufferable bullshit.

“So, Rey – I can call you Rey, right? –, how old are you, anyway?” a second boy asks, his friends snickering behind him as they jostle each other in a playful manner. “Because I think older chicks are pretty hot,” he adds with a smirk before Rey can so much as roll her eyes, and the rest of his entourage howls with laughter and drawn-out calls of ayyy.

An arm snakes its way around her waist, and the boys seem to take a collective step backward as Kylo moves forward. “So, how did you gentlemen enjoy the presentation tonight? I trust you found my wife’s slides very informative, since you don’t appear to have any actual questions about the university.”

Wife, he says so casually, as if it doesn’t hurt like a dozen knives through her heart, as if she hasn’t been haunted by Mr. and Mrs. Solo for the last five months.

The kids back off, stammer something about the presentation and yeah it was super helpful really looking forward to uni okay good night bye, and suddenly she finds herself all alone in a darkened hall with no one but Kylo, his arm still tightly wrapped around her waist.

Rey shakes him off and storms over to the table to collect what’s left of their course catalogues and pamphlets. “I could’ve handled that myself,” she mutters when Kylo’s shadow falls over the table.

“Well, it was taking you a while, so I thought I’d speed things up,” he bites back, stuffing their business cards and pens and sign-up sheets into his messenger bag.

“By pretending we’re married?” Rey confronts him, and makes the mistake of looking up just as he steps into her personal space.

Kylo grits his teeth, his jaw tense as he avoids her eyes. “If I had known that the mere thought is so abhorrent to you, I would’ve kept it to myself. My apologies.”

He snatches the pile of catalogues from her hands and storms off, and something about the sight of his retreating back just breaks her.

“Don’t you dare!” Rey calls out, picks her bag up from the floor and abandons the rest of their stuff to stalk after him. “You’re not walking away from me again, not after saying something like that.”

“Like what, Rey?” Kylo turns on her when she catches up to him at the bank of elevators, and for all the emotions she’s seen on his face, for all the tales she’s heard of his anger issues, the sight of him angry at her nearly knocks her off her feet. “Like the truth?”

“What do you even–” The doors open with a soft chime, and she follows him into the elevator. “What truth, Kylo? Because all I heard was you assuming that you know how I feel about you or marriage or anything! How the hell would you know the first thing about me after avoiding me for five months?”

Kylo stabs the button for their floor and backs himself up against the opposite wall, putting as much space between them as possible in this tiny metal box. “What was I supposed to do, Rey? Hang around the office and wait to see you walk in and out every day the way you walked in and out of my life? Did you really think we could go back to being whatever the fuck we used to be after you made it clear that our time together meant nothing to you?”

“Oh my god,” Rey yells as they storm off the elevator, “what even the fuck are you talking about right now? I made it clear? You’re the one who said see you around and turned your back on me!”

“Because you dumped me!” Kylo growls as he swipes his keycard into the slot, and Rey is so taken aback that she doesn’t move in time to follow him before he shuts the door in her face.

He thinks she dumped him. Ben thinks she dumped him, and he’s been… nursing his wounds for the past five months? Avoiding her because he was hurt?

“Ben!” She knocks on the door, starts all-out pounding her fists against it when he fails to open up. “Ben, let me in. Let me in right now, you impossible, unbelievable, idiot of a–”

She doesn’t notice the tears streaming down her face until he opens the door and stares at her in horror. “You’re crying. Why are you crying?”

“I’m crying because you’re an idiot and you broke my heart,” Rey says bluntly as she shoulders her way past him and stomps into the room.

“Rey–” Ben closes the door behind him, leans against it as he watches her pace the length of his room.

“How the hell did I dump you?” she demands, still pacing. “Explain. Now.”

Ben walks towards her almost warily, each step slow and deliberate and cautious. “That morning in Takodana… you were so quiet, so off. And then you said all that stuff about getting used to normal life again, and I just… I knew – I thought – you meant life before us. Life without me.”

Months. For months they’ve both been in pain because of a stupid misunderstanding. “Ben,” she sobs, brings a hand up to her mouth to muffle her cries.

“I waited,” he tells her, moving close enough to sit on the edge of the bed. “For you to call, to visit… hell, I would’ve been happy with a text, Rey.”

Rey stares at him while the gears in her brain grind to a sudden halt, and then she’s throwing herself at him and rolling them towards the center of the bed. “I missed you,” she gasps, taking his face in her hands, “so much,” tears obscure her vision as she leans down to kiss him, “every day.”

Ben brings a hand up to wipe her tears away. “Then why didn’t you–”

“I thought you didn’t want anything more! I thought I was being stupid and sentimental and–”

He stops her right there, pulls her down for a kiss and rolls them over until he’s all she can see, all she can feel. “I want more. I want everything with you, Rey.”

“Good,” Rey smiles, chokes on a laugh as she threads her fingers through his hair, “because I love you, and I want everything with you too.”

Ben laughs, leans down to press their foreheads together. “God, we’re such idiots. And I love you too, sweetheart.”

. . .

In the morning, Rey scrunches up her nose in delight when Ben greets her with an Eskimo kiss and burrows into his side.

“Now what?” she asks with a smile as Ben laces their fingers together.

He sits up straight, puts enough distance between them to look her in the eye. “We could get married. I mean, when in Canto Bight…”

Rey stares at him in wide-eyed shock until she spies a familiar gleam in his eyes. “You’re joking,” she calls him out, half-relieved and half-wary.

“You did say everything,” Ben reminds her very seriously, manages to keep the act up for a whole ten seconds before he gives in to the grin tugging at his lips. “But yes, I’m joking. For now, anyway.”

Rey tugs him down for a kiss. “Let’s revisit that in a couple of years,” she suggests.

(They do.)

Gods above and below, I thought this fic would never end! Look, at this point most of you probably know I always end up running over my self-imposed word limit. That's normal, I've gotten used to it. But this was a projected seven thousand words at most, and now it's nearly ten. It's ridiculous, even by my standards.

Also this is my first M-rated fic ever. Yeah, you read that right: after more than a decade of tame fics, I sinned for this ship. And you guys. Mainly you guys. Feedback would be great, but also maybe let's never talk about this again while I go burn in the eternal flames of my shame?

Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this. As usual, thank you for reading and I'd love to hear from you guys so don't hesitate to like/reblog/comment/etc.

[everlarkbirthdaygifts]

Happy Birthday, laurabaptista!

Apologies to @laurabaptista for the short delay on your gift. We hope you had a wonderful birthday and celebrated in style! To keep the party going, @ally147writes has written a story just for you!

AN: Happy birthday to the prompter! I hope you had a wonderful day :) This story was inspired by my own beagle adoption a few weeks ago. The story didn’t end up quite as cutesy as I’d hoped for a single parents!Everlark fic, but I hope you’ll enjoy it anyway.

Unbeta’d. All errors are my own.

‘Dog Days’

Peeta’s run out of excuses.

 The questions have been building up for almost a year, since one of Charlie’s classmates brought theirs in for show-and-tell. Peeta miscounted the kid’s parents’ orders of bread rolls and cookies for a month after that in thanks for the non-stop barrage of questions that had been invited into his life:

 “I want a puppy, Dad!”

 “But Damien has a puppy, Dad!”

 “Can we get a puppy, Dad?”

 “Why can’t we get a puppy, Dad?”

 “Dad! Can we get a puppy, please?”

 “Dad? Dad? Dad? Dad? DAAAAAAAAADDDDD?”

He caved, as he knew he always would. He can’t say no to his own little mini-me, not when he turns on those big blue eyes and juts out that bottom lip. He’s been a slave to his son since the first time he laid eyes on him.

 But he’ll be damned if he capitulates to a puppy. Puppies take work, and mean time off from the bakery that he can’t afford to take.

 Compromising with a six-year-old is a task in and of itself, but he steels himself, and waits for a time when Charlie should be at his most amendable.

 So, like the sneaky wimp he is:

 “What if we adopted a dog that’s a tiny bit older?” he asks as Charlie’s wrapped up in his fluffy bedspread, right on Sleep’s door. “What do you think about that?”

 Charlie eyes, hooded and blinking just a moment ago, widened and glittered. “Really? You mean it?”

 Peeta smiles and smooths back Charlie’s messy curls, so much like his own when he was that age. “I really do.”

 Charlie yawns again and settles back against his pillows with a smack of his lips. “Awesome,” he says, the word slurring as he starts to fall asleep.

 Peeta pads back down the stairs and tosses himself atop his bed. His laptop is waiting, open. He’s scoured different adoption sites, the local pound, even local listings, but nothing seems right.

 After a few more cursory searches, he comes across a Facebook page dedicated to rehoming dogs in his local area. He skims through the listings; some are obvious scams, pictures of too-perfect puppies frolicking in too-perfect fields for a too-perfect price. Some are in the golden years of their already short lives, and as much as he’d love to rehome an older dog, he can’t have Charlie get too attached just to break his heart so soon after.

 There’s a listing at the bottom of the page that looks promising, but the date next to it tells him it’s been up for almost a month. He clicks on it and gasps. It’s perfect.

 A little beagle, female, only a year old. Artemis, or Artie for short. Fully vaccinated and vet-checked, microchipped and insured. Likes walks and loves small children. Toilet-trained and good on a lead (or as good as a beagle can be). Comes with own bed and toys. They’re asking a two-hundred-dollar fee plus rehoming costs, but compared to some of the local breeders and pet stores he scoped out early on, she’s a bargain.

 He types out a quick message on his phone to the seller, asking if the dog’s still available, and sends it off before he can second-himself. He feels almost nervous — like he’s put himself on display or something — as he sets the alarm on his phone (just a precaution; he hasn’t slept past five in the morning in years), sets it on his bedside table, and melts back into his pillows.

 XXX

 When he breaks for lunch, he has a response from the seller. His eyes grow wide as he looks over the long-winded message, more like a detailed questionnaire quizzing him on every aspect of his life to gauge his suitability for dog ownership as though he’s adopting a child.

 He supposes he shouldn’t mind all that much — if it were him parting with a beloved pet, he’d want to make sure it was going to the right home, too. But if this was the treatment they were bestowing on every potential adopter, it’s no wonder the listing was so old. He doubts anyone could live up to these expectations.

 He keys in his answers to all the questions as best he can: he’s a baker and usually done with work by two or three at the latest; unmarried but with a six-year-old son; yes, he’ll have plenty of time to take Artie for walks in the afternoon; he hasn’t owned a dog since he was a child, but he remembers it well (and besides, that dog was a basset, so he’s got experience with hounds) and so on and so forth until he’s sure this person knows him better than everyone else in his family.

 Peeta sighs and sends the responses off, but he doesn’t have a good feeling about any of it.

 XXX

 Peeta’s in his car waiting for Charlie’s class to break for the day when his email pings again.

 It’s another response from the seller, with another list of questions. Peeta tips his head back against the top of his chair and sighs before preparing his new answers, but a small note at the bottom catches his eye.

 If you’d like to meet Artie, I’ll meet you at the park on 12th, by the Snow statue, this Saturday at eleven.

 Katniss

 Katniss. He rolls the name in his mouth. He’s never heard anything like it before.

 He’s finishing off his responses and telling her, yes, he’d love to meet Artie this weekend, when Charlie comes barrelling into the back seat with the cacophony of noise only a six-year-old is capable of.

 “Hey, Dad!”

 “Hey, bud. How was school?”

 “Good! Ms. Rue brought in cupcakes ‘cause it was her birthday.”

 “Cupcakes, huh?” Peeta pulls out of the parking lot and turns out onto the main street. “Were they better than mine?”

In the mirror, Charlie fixes him with a look of uncharacteristic seriousness. “No one’s cupcakes are better than yours.”

 “Glad to hear it.” They coast past the bakery and out of town, where houses are lined up neatly like rows of trees in an orchard. “Hey, bud, wanna come to the park with me this weekend?”

 Charlie’s too invested in his dinosaur figurines — which Peeta remembers telling him he couldn’t bring to school — to give him more than a passive, “Hmm.”

 Peeta smiles to himself as he turns onto their street. “We’re going to meet someone.”

 The dinosaurs crash together in epic battle. “Uh-huh.”

 “And maybe, if all goes well, we’re going to bring her home.”

 “Her?” Charlie drops his dinosaurs and fixes Peeta with a wary look. “Who’s her?”

 Peeta pulls into their driveway and spins in his seat, grinning as he flashes the picture of Artie from her adoption listing. “Her name’s Artemis.”

 “A dog? Charlie’s eyes blow wide. “We’re gonna get a dog!”

 “Maybe,” Peeta says as he climbs out of the car. “We have to meet her first.”

 “What sort of dog is she?”

 “She’s a beagle.”

 “What’s she like?”

 “I don’t know, bud. We’ll meet her on Saturday and find out.”

“Do you think she’ll like me?”

 “I don’t see why not.”

 “What does she like? What’s her favourite food? What are her favourite games? What are…”

 Peeta sighs and takes Charlie’s backpack from the back seat. Maybe he should’ve waited until Charlie was half-asleep again before he said anything…

 XXX

 Come midday, the sun is high and bright in the sky. Peeta curses to himself; why didn’t he bring sunscreen? He can almost hear his skin sizzling.

 Katniss is late. By almost an hour. He and Charlie have made lap after lap around the park, the stern, cold eyes of the Snow statue following them all the while.

 “We’ll give it another ten minutes,” Peeta says as Charlie takes huge gulps of water from an overpriced bottle. “If they’re not here, then we’ll go.”

 Charlie almost chokes on his water. “But, Dad!”

 “I know. But they’re running late.” He glances down at his phone, shadows it with his free hand from the glare, but there’s no new messages or anything. “Maybe they’ve changed their minds.”

 Right as the words leave his mouth, he knows he’s wrong.

 Tentatively approaching them is a beautiful woman, maybe his own age, with jet black hair that glows like embers in the high sunlight and warm olive skin, holding a massive bag in one hand and a leash in the other. His heart kicks up into overdrive; he’s never felt such an instantaneous, overwhelming reaction to a woman, not even Charlie’s mother. Even without the small dog with a pink collar loping along at her side, straining on her leash to sniff everything in the air, he knows this is Katniss. Somehow, no other name seems to fit.

 Trotting beside her is her tiny, adorable miniature, a little girl of maybe three or four clutching the woman’s hand, with cheeks so red he thinks she must have been crying.

 His heart feels like it’s hopped up into his throat as she comes closer, closer, and pauses in front of him. His mouth opens and closes, and he can just about feel his brain try to make speech happen, but it’s just not working. She’s not just beautiful: she’s radiant.

 She tips her sunglasses down her nose and inspects him with silvery eyes that are red around the edges.

 “Are you Peeta?” she asks, her voice coming out low and sultry, like smoke and fire.

 “Yeah.” His voice breaks. He clears his throat. “Yeah,” he tries again. “You’re Katniss?”

 She gives a terse nod.

 “Sorry we’re late,” she says. “We had a few things to do before we came, and they all ran late.”

 “Aww, cool!” Charlie leaps in front of him before Peeta can say anything more. He’s on his knees before Artie, patting her fur and scratching behind her floppy ears. “She’s so cool! Are we keeping her, Dad?”

 Peeta sends an apologetic smile Katniss’ way; her lips stay in the same tense, unmoving line.

 “Don’t know, Charlie. That’s up to Katniss here.”

 The line of her lips softens just a fraction, the corner quirking up into the tiniest of smiles.

 “She’s adorable, by the way.” Peeta grins and squats down to pat Artie. “Why are you selling her, if you don’t mind my asking?”

 “We had to move,” she says, with a sharp edge to her tone. “We can’t keep her in our new house. The new landlord’s kind of militant about pets, we’ve heard.”

 “That’s too bad.” He holds out his hand for Artie to sniff, but she doesn’t seem too interested in him. “What does your… husband think?”

 She quirks a brow at him. “No husband,” she says. “Just me and Violet. And even if there was, I doubt it would change things.” She coughs. “So, is your wife excited?”

 He grins up at her. “No wife. Or husband for that matter. Just me and Charlie, looking for a new friend.”

 She huffs a tiny laugh and quickly coughs to disguise it. Peeta’s grin spreads even wider.

 “Anyway, I took her to the vet yesterday,” Katniss says, her grip on the leash tightening as Artie tugs away. “She’s all healthy, and she had a bath and got her claws trimmed.” She taps the faded cloth handbag hanging ting at her side. “All we need is for you to sign the transfer papers.”

 Peeta’s gaze shoots back up to her face. “Excuse me?”

 “I think…” She trails off, sucks in a huge gulp of air. “I just want what’s best for Artie, and I think that’s you.”

 “What, really?”

 “Yeah. You gave good answers to all my questions. And you look…” She shifts about and gives him a sidelong glance up and down out the corner of her eye. “I don’t know… active.”

 He grins at the flush that takes over her cheeks.

 “That,” she quickly goes on, waving at Charlie and Artie playing on the grass, “and your son seems to really like her. I think they’ll be good friends.”

 At that, the little girl at her side turns bright red and ducks her head against Katniss’ leg. Her little shoulders start to shake. Peeta can just hear her muffled voice: “No, mama. No Artie.”

 Katniss sighs. “Violet, please. It’s all right. Artie will be happy with them.”

 Violet shakes her head, presses even closer to her mother’s thigh. Katniss sighs again and brushes her hand through her daughter’s hair.

 “She’s not taking it so well,” Katniss explains in a low whisper.

 Peeta nods, reaches out a hand to set against Violet’s tiny shoulder. The little girl shakes her head and presses even tighter again.

 He sighs and stands as Katniss leads him over to a park bench. The only words that pass between them are Katniss pointing out where on the forms he needs to sign. Three signatures and two-hundred bucks later, he’s a dog owner.

 Somehow, it all feels so wrong. Not even Artie seems enthused. The only one having a good time in all of this is Charlie.

 “She’s not very good off a leash,” Katniss says, her voice wavering. “She’ll follow her nose to the ends of the earth. And she runs fast.”

 “Katniss,” he starts, but she ploughs on.

 “She’s a bit weird with things that have wheels: skateboards and trolleys and things, so be careful if you’re walking her in busy places.”

 “Katniss.” He thinks she’s about to burst into tears.

 “And you can’t give her too many snacks. She’ll eat everything if you let her.”

 “I’ll remember.” He stares down at his hands folded in his lap. He never expected to feel so… evil.

 “And, also, please, just…”

 He can’t help himself; he wraps an arm around her shoulder and pulls her against his side. He half-expects her to scream, shove him away and run off into the dense packing of trees bordering the park. But she doesn’t. Instead, it’s as though all the fight drains from her. She goes slack against him leans into him, presses her face into the crook of his neck for one, two, three seconds, enough for him to catch the soft citrus scent of her hair. He swallows at the warmth of her breath puffing against his skin, fights a shiver clawing its way through him.

 “Sorry,” she mutters before pulling away with a massive sigh.

 “Don’t worry about it,” he murmurs. Even with the warmth of the day, when she moves off him, he feels cold.

She schools her expression into a scowl and stands, wrapping an arm around Violet and handing over Artie’s leash. She drops the massive bag at his feet and he peers inside; Artie’s bowls, a folded bed, toys and snacks. God, he feels even lower.

 “Please, just… take good care of her, all right?”

 Before Peeta can say another word, Katniss is picking up her things and herding her daughter to the nearest exit.

 “Dad! We’ve got a dog!” Charlie positively beams and he scratches Artie around the ears. Artie’s just watching her family fade towards the parking lot with the sort of forlorn expression naturally on most beagles.

 “Not so rough, bud,” he says as he watches them leave. “She’s only a little dog.” He sighs and stands, bogged down with bags. “Come on, let’s get her into the car and head home, so she can check out her new yard.”

 Artie follows with little fuss to her new car. She hops into the back seat and Charlie tumbles in after her, his huge grin not wavering once. Peeta feels his guilt lift at the sight of his son so happy.

 He settles himself in the driver’s seat and drops his keys at the sound of his name, muffled through the window.

 “Peeta! Wait!”

 Katniss is sprinting towards him, on her own this time. He smiles as she approaches, winds down the car window for her to lean in. “Is something wrong?” he asks.

 She stares into the back of his car. For a second, he thinks she’s going to reach over, take Artie back, and run full-tilt the other way. Instead, she sags against the door and looks at him imploringly.

 “Look, I know I don’t owe you anything, but do you think…” She sighs, glances over to where her car must be parked. “Do you think you could send some pictures when Artie’s all settled? Just so Violet knows she’s doing all right?”

 He nods, a little too enthusiastically. “Yeah, of course. And, uh…” He trails off, runs a hand through his sweaty hair. “If you wanted, you could bring Violet over sometime, to visit? I don’t live too far from here. Or we could come to you, or come to this park —”

 “I’d like that,” she cuts in, though her eyes still look unsure. “I mean, Violet would love that.”

 “Great.” He grins as Katniss backs away. “Send me a text.”

 “I will. Soon.” She brushes a long length of black fringe away from her eyes. “Thank you, Peeta. And Charlie. I know you’ll take good care of her.”

 “We will!” Charlie squeals from the back.

 She pushes back off the car, a shy, tiny smile on her lips. “I guess I’ll hear from you soon?”

 “Yeah.” He nods. “You’ll definitely hear from me soon.”

[nobodyzhuman]

New idea.

Got an idea for a new series. Let me Know what you guys think.

Bang! I dodged, feeling something slice into my arm, I winced and stumbled against a nearby wall. I brought my hand up to cover the spot on my arm that was screaming out in pain. It felt warm and sticky, I tried not to look down at it. I didn’t want to see how bad it was. I gritted my teeth together and pushed along the wall. I needed to get out of here. I couldn’t remember who was shooting at me or why, but I know I had to get away and fast. There was another bang somewhere behind me, again I stumbled. I caught myself and pushed on. I turned a dark corner, and finally saw a door. Determined I put all my remaining strength into my legs and ran towards it. Just as I grabbed the handle another shot rang out behind me, something slammed into me causing me to fall onto the door, I cried out and tried pushing the door open. I was not going to die here, I told himself and twisted the handle, another shot rang out.

I screamed.

I screamed out as I jolted upright in bed. I was soaked in sweat and breathing hard. Both my arm and back throbbed in phantom pain, nothing had really been hurt be but the dream had felt so real. I swallowed and placed my hand over my heart. I needed to get it to slow down, I told myself to take a couple slow deep breaths.

“Riley.” I heard my name but didn’t react, I was still lost in the echo of my dream.

“Riley.” This time I could hear worry in the voice, so I looked across the small dorm room, my roommate, still half asleep looking at me.

“You okay?” Shawn asked.

I nodded, “Bad dream.” I tried to smile, but there was this feeling of dread in the pit of my stomach, my dreams where never really just dreams, they never came true in the way I saw them. But the message was clear, I was in danger. I just didn’t know from what.

“Okay, well I’m going back to bed.” Shawn said, rolling over and passing out.  

I envied him, I knew there was no way I was going to be able to go back to sleep. Instead, I tossed off my blanket and hopped out of bed.

Not really thinking about anything, I grabbed some clothes I had set out the night before. Everything else I owned was already packed up. I had dropped most of it off at a storage unit I rented until, I found a new place. The rest was in a duffle bag under my bed.

As I got dressed, I looked around the room. I had lived in the same dorm room for the last three years. I smiled fondly, it has become more of a home to me then I could ever remember having before. But today, I would have to say goodbye.

Today was my last day here, I had finished with all my required classes about two weeks ago and had already been notified about my eligibility to take part in this semesters graduation ceremony. Not that I was going to attended. I had already send an email back to my advisor asking for my degree to be mailed to me.

I wasn’t a huge fan of celebrations like graduations. Not with my ability. That many people, crowed together in some small place, at such a huge turning point in their lives. So many decisions and choices to be made. I shivered just thinking about it. My aunt had called what I could do, precognition, the ability to sense the future. She always mocked me that I was to weak to be a true seer, never haven gotten a real vision, but that didn’t stop her for using my small bit of talent to her advantage.  

I sighed, and pushed her out of my head. I had done a good job of not thinking about her in the last five years, and I really didn’t want to start know.

Looking at the time, 6:36am, I decided to take a run, I had plans to met up with my girlfriend for breakfast at 9, so I had time to waste. Grabbing my duffle bag, I shifted things around until I found an old pair of shorts and a tank top, then I quickly changed. On the way out, the door I grabbed my headphones and cell phone.

I put on my running playlist and did a long slow run around the main campus of the school. The run normally took me about 30 minutes, but today I planned on going a little slower, dragging to run out to waste some time. I was about 20 minutes in when my phone rang. I wasn’t expecting a call but figured it was my girlfriend, so I used my headphones to answer without pulling my phone out of my pocket.

“Hello?” I said, still jogging.

“Riley?” I stumbled from the surprise of hearing this particular voice on my phone.

“What the hell do you want?” I cursed and looked around. I knew the odds of her actually being anywhere near me were slim but it was habit to look for danger whenever my aunt was involved.

“You shouldn’t speak to me like that.” My aunt said sounding offended. I didn’t believe it for a second. No matter how good of an actor she was, I knew all her tricks.

“What do you want Cecil?” I asked. I stopped running when I heard her voice, so I started up again, heading towards my dorm room.

“I need your help.” She said, sounding close to tears. I rolled my eyes.

“Who do you own this time?” I asked.

“Why do you think I own someone?” She asked.

I sighed, “Because I know you. Look I don’t have time for this.” I said reaching up to hit the end button on my head phones.

“WAIT!” She shouted. I told myself to hit the button, to end the call before she sucked me into whatever it was that she had gotten herself into but I hesitated.

“Please.” She said, and with a sigh I lowered my hand.

“What happened?” I asked. I had just reached my dorm, so I pulled open the door and walked in. I feeling of dread washed over me, it was enough for me to reach out and grab my stomach. The thing about my ability is it didn’t give me a lot to go on, ominous dreams and strange feelings. I could guess that both had to do with my aunt, but I didn’t know if it meant I should ignore her or help her.

“Shit.” I cursed, forgetting for a second, I was on the phone.

“Riley?” My aunts voice was laced with fake concern

“Just tell me.” I demanded.

“I own a man money,” All the fake emotions gone from her voice, now she sounded business like, “more money then I can get on my own. I need your help.”

“What do you want from me?” I asked, “I have no money.” I added, not putting it past her to ask for some.

“I have a client,” She started and I sighed, “They want to have a séance, with your ability,” She drew out the word, her jealousy of my skills still as obvious as when I was a kid, “we can meet with them a couple times. They are offering a good amount of money.” She finished.

I cringed, I hated taking advantage of people. This skill she wanted to use wasn’t like my precog ability, something I had no control over. See, I had the ability to astral project, to push my spirt, my aunt called it, out of my body, with concentration I can affect to world around me. It was my aunt’s favorite ability of mine, to use on people. They always believed the ghost of whatever loved one they lost had been there, they would come back time and time again.

I was about ten when I learned I could do this, I had been miserable and just wanted away from my aunt and her scams. I remember sitting in the back of her shop, just wishing I was anywhere else, then suddenly I was standing on the beach a few miles down the road. I had panicked and started screaming. No one on the beach reacted to me, but suddenly I felt hands on my shoulders and someone shaking me. Then I was back in her shop, my aunt standing over me, yelling at me for screaming and scaring away customers. It took a few weeks before I figured out how to control it and only two months before my aunt figured out what I was doing, and for her to find a way to use it.

“And if I don’t want to help?” I asked pulling myself out of my memories.

“He threated to kill me.” She said, and I felt my stomach drop. She had gotten in trouble a lot in my life, but it was normal stuff that she could con her way out of or pay someone off to leave her alone. I couldn’t remember a time when her life had been in danger. I thought over my dream and the feeling of dread I could still feel. Maybe it wasn’t my life it danger, maybe it was hers.

I cursed under my breath, and looked at my duffle bag, still laying on top of my bed. At least I was already packed, I sighed, “I’ll be there some time tomorrow.” I reached up, hung up and ripped my head phones out of my ears.

As I shoved my clothes back into the bag and started zipping it up another wave hit me, this one wasn’t dread, it was something more final. Like I knew I wasn’t coming back here again. Not just my dorm room, I knew I wasn’t coming back here. But that I wasn’t coming back to this place, this town, this life.

I walked towards the door, I prayed that feeling was just my own paranoia because I wasn’t ready to say goodbye to this life, I had worked so hard for. Not yet.

[sending-the-message]

You didn’t see that coming by mrmichaelsquid

On a sunny day in August, my beloved wife of a month and I walked downtown after dinner, soaking up the sights and sounds of the city. We were enjoying a much needed night off and decided to let chance encounters define our evening in a spontaneity we lacked in our lives. We had been saving up to try and afford a condo in a few years so cutting costs and plenty of overtime had been keeping my schedule packed too snugly for wiggle room. Each day I’d been multitasking everything, sending emails while in line for an egg sandwich, reading dossiers while eating it, and typing proposals on the train ride before 10 hour days with a 10 minute lunch. It was truly exhausting. When we passed a hand painted sign for a fortune teller, Sarah turned to me with the wide eyed smile that I can’t argue with, so I just nodded with a sigh as she led me up the stairs by my hand.

The building was old, but the carpeting in that stairway seemed older somehow, it was so musty I coughed as we ascended the narrow staircase, dimly washed in red light. I’d never been to a fortune teller, I know about the grouping of clientele and leading questions, Orson Welles taught me a few things about the art of the con I’d recommend checking out online if interested. I knew it was a sham, but she needed this whimsy and change of routine as much as I had, so I figured I’d stay polite and play along. Things felt off when we entered that small, octagonal room, and it creeped me out when I understood what I was seeing.

There was a black mound of shadow on a chair before us in the dim, red room it took me a few moments to realize was a hooded figure facing away from us to the wall. They spun in their heavy, metal swivel chair from perhaps an office of the 60’s to face us with that leathery, sun damaged face, scored with cavernous wrinkles and then said the cliche “I’ve been expecting you” that somehow stirred unease within me, despite being a bit insipid. “Have a seat” the older woman said, extending an open palm to the folding metal chairs at the circular table. I sat, holding a smirk back and sharing a slight smile with my wife, who did the same.

“Lovers united in matrimony, recently” the old fortune teller said with a toothless smile. It had been a few weeks now, but the shiny new rings on our fingers were a bit too obvious for both my wife and I.

“Correct” I said with a smile, and the woman stared into a glass orb on the table most likely imported from China. I caressed my wife’s hand out of view under the table. “Long hours at work” the old woman said staring at me with wide eyes. “You are saving for a permanent residence”, her slight Eastern European accent peeking through. I’m sure the bags under my eyes and recent marital status said enough, but I nodded regardless and said “Yes, this is true”. My wife squeezed my hand to signal she was impressed, but I wasn’t yet, not this eternal sceptic.

“There is an unfortunate accident in your near future, something with a car” the woman stated grimly as she stared into the crystal ball. “Followed by another, a serious fall” she said, gasping with exaggerated surprise. I noticed my wife was wide-eyed with fear, but i subtly rolled my eyes and shook my head to signal this meant nothing. “Death.. my... god... you have a horrible curse plaguing you, the most dangerous curse in existence” the woman finally said, staring into my face with a deep frown. “I can remove it but it will be extremely expensive, I need to travel abroad to hunt for the ingredients needed”. My wife was visibly disturbed and excused herself to use the bathroom behind us, clearly holding back tears. I wasn’t buying the bullshit though. “No thank you, I appreciate your concern but we are not interested”, I tried my best to say politely, looking daggers into the fortune tellers seedy eyes. Time stood still as we stared into eachother’s faces for what felt like an eternity. The old woman ignored me and brought an old book from the shelf, flipping it open to illustrations of demons and devils. I just sat, waiting patiently, not engaging her. I’d had enough of this charade, and had no intention of paying any more than the fee for our session.

When my wife finally returned, unspoken malice seemed the only presence in the room, which I broke by explaining “we have to go, honey” and I dropped a fifty on the table then gently led my wife by her arm out the door and down the stairs. “I’m not in the mood for a scam” I whispered to my wife as we descended the stairs. “I have enough actual stress and worries without this”. The quiet of the night loudened on the walk back to the car. We drove in near silence for 10 minutes, and it wasn’t until we reached the train tracks that I realized something was terribly wrong.

I attempted to slow as the railway crossing got closer but the car refused to obey the pedal’s command. I pumped the brakes but it was no use, they were not functioning. Panic poisoned my blood as I heard the oncoming train approaching. Perhaps on autopilot, I swerved the car off of the road and into a nearby field, barreling towards the woods and shaking us like pebbles in maracas. My glasses flew into the windshield as we bounced, the car nearly flipping over before bashing into a nearby tree, coming to a complete stop. Adrenaline flooded my system as I held my wife, only able to breathe when I realized she wasn’t injured. I only then noticed the trickle on my forehead of trailing blood, which i wiped with my hand, an injury from the sun visor during the violent stop.

My mind raced to find the logic, that fortune teller could not have known this, there was no such thing as a psychic, she must have somehow seen my car, but we entered that place by chance. It was a random occurrence, and my world felt like the bottom fell out. “My god are you okay?”, I asked my wife, and she nodded with teary eyes. I hugged her and called an auto shop to tow the car and give us a lift to town. A tow truck eventually arrived and we rode next to a burly man chewing tobacco on the bumpy ride back to the garage.

The next few days I had a nagging unease, could fate be possibly written and readable? Was everything pre-recorded? It was a horrible tapping on my awareness I couldn’t shake, but I did my best to focus on the mountainous pile of work awaiting me that week. I dove into my work, chiseling away at the stacks of invoices and numbers to tally, losing myself in the chore as much as possible. A few days later, I was just finishing some edits and headed upstairs to the bathroom. On my way back to the stairs, my foot slid cleanly off of the top step and I plunged down the stairs in a horrible fall, painfully cracking my hips and shattering my wrist on the hard stairs. My wife screamed and ran to me, dialing 911 and crying over my broken body.

After the painkillers took effect, my stay at the ER wasn’t so bad, at least physically. My mind however swirled with thoughts of an unseen force tormenting me, fulfilling the fortune teller’s prophecy. My wife suggested we see her and address the curse, which I was beginning to realize might be real at this time. I was in a lot of pain, bandaged and arm in a cast, but we rented a car and drove back to find resolution to the fortune teller. “Let’s just listen to what she has to say” Sarah calmly stated as we drove that rainy night to the city.

Wind licked my neck as i held Sarah’s hand in my uninjured one. Pain flared in my hip as I ascended the stairs up to that hallway, past the restroom and into the red room where the old soothsayer slouched before us. “Yeah, yeah, you’ve been expecting me” I blurted out before quickly apologizing. “I’m sorry, this is just hard and confusing for me. What can I do?” I pleaded, taking the seat the fortune teller’s hand motioned to. The old woman removed a book labelled “curses” in sharpie written on a taped book spine, and flipped through pages containing etchings of demons, odd contraptions and eventually what looked like plants, showing a picture to my wife and I that looked straight from the renaissance.

“I need to gather some specific plants from near the Caspian sea. The other ingredients are in Mount Elbrus, and I need newborn lamb’s hair from Estonia. It will take a few weeks and i need my flights, my stay, and my guides compensated. I will need to pay a priestess to perform a ceremony that is both taxing physically and very expensive. When I come back in a month, I will have a tincture that will remove your curse, and you will be free upon drinking it”. She pressed her liver spotted hands together at the fingertips and lowered her head. “The cost will be $182,000” she said, and the number bounced between my ears like a jagged pinball. I’d need to liquefy every asset I owned in order to pay for this, and would be completely broke. I’d have to start from scratch, this was not a possibility.

“I can’t afford that. What alternative is there?” I asked, worry wrinkling my sweaty brow.

“This is the only this option, and I’m afraid death is the only thing that is coming next, this is your only option if you want to live through the year, this type of curse is 100% lethal and extremely aggressive.” She said in a low, creaky voice. I looked to my wife, distress painted on her face in a way that stabbed at my heart. I realized this must be the only option, and I nodded gravely and stated “Give me a few days and I’ll be back”. I solemnly limped down the stairs aided by my wife, tormented by the realization I was about to be either penniless or dead. My wife tried to reassure me on the drive back but my mind was frozen in dread. I began moving funds out of my investments and my IRA. I withdrew from my savings and brokerage accounts and spent the next few days feeling like a broken husk of a man.

A few nights after, my wife and I were watching TV when she excused herself to use the restroom. I used the opportunity to walk to the garage to sneak a cigarette, a horrible habit I’d been hiding on the rare occasion of extreme stress, and I realized something felt off. My stuff seemed to have been moved, particularly one item, a gallon tin of WD-40 I only used rarely on the car, which was in the shop. There was absolutely no reason for this to have been used by anyone, and I knew something was awry. I walked back into the house, my wife was still upstairs, where that slick floor caused my fall, her cell phone on the couch where she had sat.

I’d seen her enter the screen lock dozens of times. I entered it with ease and then saw all of the things I could possibly dread. Hundreds of steamy texts to a man named “Greg”, and a few dozen to a contact labelled with simply an address. I clicked on it and saw the numbers, there was a poor attempt at discretion discussing financial matters, percentages, and an agreed amount of $20,000. I heard the upstairs toilet flush and exited the text app and returned the phone, locked, to its place on the couch. I entered the address of the contact on my phone to confirm, it was the psychic we’d seen. I sat quietly watching television with my wife before sleeping a full night’s sleep. That night I explained I was ready to pay the psychic and be rid of this awful curse.

The next day, we drove the rental to the city, to that psychic, and I limped up those stairs holding back a smile, trying to force it from creeping onto my face. I just couldn’t get the punchline out of my head, it was cliche but hilarious. After she took a seat, my wife’s eyes grew in horror when the hatchet began its journey, cutting through the air and into her skull. It took quite a forceful wiggle to dislodge it, making a “shuck” sound as the wet blade pulled brain and blood from the wound with its removal. The old hag had risen, attempting to get around me, perhaps to run into the bathroom my wife pretended to enter when she’d cut the brakes to my car. She didn’t make it by me, however, the blade crushing the vertebrae between her sagging shoulders. Blood sprayed with each following chop as the hatchet transformed the two women into something unrecognizable. I stood over the mess in the red room and shared it then, they could use some humor I figured “You didn’t see that coming” I bellowed, laughter spilling forth as free as their blood.