#like. if I had a dollar for every time someone got fairly close to me and then SCREAMED because they suddenly realized I was there. I’d have

[the-trans-dragon]

Ghhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh if my job decides to do a secret Special Item Release, they should at LEAST tell the staff x.x I would have brought more food and drinks, and gotten better rest last night, if I’d known

Also they should give us holiday pay for that nonsense omg.

[felassan]

A former BioWare Design Director has tweeted his take on the recent BioWare and SW:TOR news. tweet compilation, as it's interesting and illuminating insight:

"My take on the SWTOR/BioWare split For SWTOR: This is a Good Thing For BioWare: This is a Big Loss A thread:

My point of view is someone who worked for BioWare Austin on SWTOR from 2009 as an Assistant World Designer through 2022 as Design Director (with some Anthem, Shadow Realms, and <NDA> years sprinkled about).

BioWare Austin (BWA) was its own studio for many years, founded in order to make that game. MMO’s are expensive, y’all.

We didn’t really collaborate with BioWare Edmonton (BWE) on the dev side much, because there was no need to (with some exceptions – they had built the original on-rails space shooting component, for example).

As a business, in this model all revenue and expenses roll up into the greater whole (BioWare), which then roll into EA’s Group, and so on.

After many years, this model shifted and changed, for a large variety of reasons I won’t get into. BWA would no longer be a separate entity, but under the same core leadership as BWE – One BioWare (BW).

What this meant realistically was you had a boxed product business that had been tried and true for years, combined with a live service MMO business that wasn’t really understood by the boxed product folks. Arguably by EA either, to be fair.

You see, MMO’s can be fairly predictable if they run long enough. We knew the SWTOR business very well. We knew how to turn every dollar invested in the game into several more. SWTOR was (and continues to be) a very profitable business, with loads of heart behind it.

But an older game isn’t sexy. It’s not new. It doesn’t get marketing orgs excited or social media teams jazzed. It’s a ‘legacy game’, despite the mountains of income coming in that other franchises are built off of.

And you FELT it, as a member of the team. It’s a fantastic dev team, filled with incredible talent. How then, with such a close-knit team, did you always feel less-than?

Well, just take a look around. Look at BW’s social media posts and count the proportion of SWTOR game/fan/anything posts compared to ME or DA. Remember that BioWare 25th anniversary book? The beautiful 328 page recollection of BioWare’s history, and celebration of all franchises?

For a game like SWTOR that had been live already for 9 of those 25 years at the time of publication, how many pages, dear reader, do you think had any SWTOR imagery or content at all? Ten. Teams notice this. They feel it, and it feels like shit.

Does BW despise SWTOR? I don’t think so – they don’t understand it, and it was someone else’s game. Does EA despise SWTOR? I don’t think so – it’s a legacy live service, and again, was someone else’s game.

As a dev on SWTOR, you feel like your game is a burden to all of the layers above you, but you persist. You put so much heart and passion into the game, and you thrive on the fans and tremendous partnership with LucasFilm.

So to bring us back to current news, imagine a team excited about a game, with incredible plans, that have felt ‘less-than’ by their own studio and company for years, being unleashed.

Being part of an org that KNOWS the MMO business, and understands those player communities and the incredible stories and connections they form.

This feels like an exciting new chapter to me, and I’m optimistic about what this means for that team and the game. SWTOR is, to the best of my knowledge, the longest-running Star Wars anything, ever. It’s a special game and I’m so happy to see where the team takes it.

As far as BW, it would have certainly be in their best interest as a business to maximize exposure and support for SWTOR publicly over the years, since the SWTOR revenue has allowed for the…unusually long…dev cycles to continue for the last several games.

But now without SWTOR, there will be less places to hide heads, R&D, and time. You’ve got blockbuster single-player experiences hitting high Metacritic scores with…2-3 year dev cycles? And the BW pattern has been…double? Triple that?

I think it will be interesting to see how the EA/BW relationship continues to evolve in this new world. /end"

[source]

[dollarbin]

Shakey Sundays #39:

Trans, At Last

She could not speak, not to me, nor to anyone else. And she was always in such terrible pain...

I want to wrap up our three-, or maybe it's four-, part exploration of Neil Young's Trans on a fairly serious note. Long before I took up residence in the Dollar Bin and even before I became a teacher, I spent my 20's working with people with disabilities. I served as their social worker, boss, employee, supporter and advocate. At one point I directed programs that included around 100 wheelchair users and around 20 of their aides.

So, while I am blessed to be non-disabled myself and equally blessed to be the parent to three non-disabled children, I do know a little bit about what Neil Young went through in the early 80's when he put his career on autopilot and focused his heart, hands and soul on trying to help his young son Ben, who was born with Cerebral Palsy, find a way to speak and thrive.

I quit my work with adults with physical disabilities 20 years ago when I felt called to teach; but I also quit because I realized that, try as I might, I'd never come close to truly meeting any of those people's needs. In short, I gave up.

And she was one of the 100 people I left behind. I'll call her Jane here as it feels wrong to use her real name. "Jane" was a powerful and brilliant woman in her 40's who could not talk or walk or make any complex needs known. She had no teeth left in her mouth: they had not been removed; rather, they'd all been ground down to the roots by a lifetime of uncontrollable muscle strain, her jaw clamped down hard by both her disability and her fury at the world around her.

I remember our first conversation well. Like all the other non-verbal people at my work she had a communication board: a laminated paper grid with 60 or so black and white cartoon icons, each of them part of a potential message: Me. You. Food. Want. Bathroom. Angry. Please. Some of the boxed icons carried entire phrases, ready to go as needed. I Am In Pain. Leave Me Alone.

The system was simple: you'd stand before them and hold the board up for them to see, then point to each column one at a time, left to right, and wait for a sign. Some would holler wordlessly when you got to the right row; others would nod; Jane would strain every responsive muscle she could access, her body going rigid against her chair's multiple restraints, her eyebrows surging upward. There was no misunderstanding Jane.

Once the column was identified, you'd work your way down it, finger pointed to each icon in turn until you found the single word or phrase they sought. It'd take a few minutes of this work for them to complete a sentence. "I. Need. Help." "I. Angry."

Jane's first sentence for me was a doozy: "I. Not. Stupid."

The implication was clear. While trying to get to know her I was treating her like she was stupid. And she wasn't. She was smart enough to see right through me and then chew me out.

In case you don't know, Cerebral Palsy is related to spinal cord damage, usually from childbirth or pre-birth. For half of the people it affects there is no mental impairment of any kind. Even so, such people often struggle to become educated - for example, Jane could not read. This was not because she was unable to do so; it was because no one had ever taught her.

Jane had spent the decade or so before I showed up with the world's dullest and most insulting job. Six hours a day, five days a week, and 50 or so weeks a year, she watched someone with a mental disability stuff envelopes. That was the whole job.

Occasionally the person she was watching would screw up. Maybe an insert was wrong side up; maybe they'd missed an envelope. If so, it was her job to do her thing: straining every muscle available until one of the able bodied staff members took note and came over to correct the mistake.

This terrible job wasn't unique for Jane, nor was it unique for the person she watched. Indeed, that's how your junk mail was processed 20 years ago. And both Jane and the envelope stuffer made just 30-40 dollars for their work, total.

Sounds pretty bad huh? Well guess what? That 30-40 dollars was the sum total of their annual pay. I'll do the math for you: they each made 2.5 cents an hour.

(Arrangements like this are no longer legal in much of our country. It's crazy that they were ever legal to begin with. After all we supposedly ended slavery 160 years ago.)

Anyway, the good people who hired me to work with Jane and her peers knew this whole thing was evil and pointless. So they tasked me with figuring out what we should do for these people instead. I had no idea! But, happily, I was smart enough to realize who would know what we should do for them: them.

So I asked them. And that led to Jane telling me that she wasn't stupid.

Well, I made a ton of mistakes in the years that followed, and I never really came up with a solution. But we did bring in a ton of the computers these people asked for and we set up some classes they requested and we begged and pleaded with regular old businesses to give them regular old jobs and treat them like human beings. Occasionally a business said yes.

But I couldn't find a job for Jane. She had no tangible skills other than her intelligence and her fearlessness. "What can we do for you?" I'd asked her. "How can we improve your days?" She'd always sigh and go slack in response, her head falling forward. It was her way of saying I don't know.

Then, one day we both figured it out. I honestly don't remember if it was her idea or mine. But there was one thing I was constantly doing in my job and that was hiring new staff people. The pay was terrible and the work was hard so of course there was tons of staff turnover. And so I always had openings to fill and I often, out of desperation, hire someone who was just wrong for the job.

At some point Jane and I both recognized that I needed help. So, we put her in charge of my hiring decisions.

Our system was simple. I'd sit the applicant down, then wheel in Jane, then start asking the questions Jane and I had settled on. Once that was all done I'd dismiss the applicant and turn to Jane with a simple question: should we hire them?

Twice I overruled her. Twice she told me not to hire someone and I did it anyway. Jane didn't care about our staffing shortages; she would rather we had no staff than have anyone around her and her peers who was unworthy or incapable.

The first person I hired despite her no vote turned out to be a sex worker on the side. I've received some wise feedback regarding the language and judgment I used for that person in my original post. So let's just leave it at this: Jane enjoyed telling me "I. Was. Right.You.Wrong." when they lasted less than a month on the job.

It was more of the same with the other poor woman Jane and I disagreed about. She turned out to be a severe alcoholic and wound up in the hospital, dying shortly thereafter. Jane had the decency not to laugh at me about that one.

But I'm supposed to be writing about Neil Young. So let me make the connection: Neil Young wanted to utterly transform his son's life. He wanted to give Ben the joyful independence all humans deserve by coming up with a communication system that was personalized and all-powerful: he wanted to see his son overcome Cerebral Palsy through the "push of a button."

Like Walter Lee Younger, the passionately intense and hopelessly pie-in-the-sky father at the heart of Lorraine Hansberry's A Raisin in the Sun, Neil Young wanted to lift his seemingly doomed child up in his arms and reveal their future as impossibly bright: "Son, I give you the world!"

Neil hired a whole team of people to make it happen. He bought machine after machine and threw himself into hours of daily therapy with Ben. Remote control technology was invented and later patented which allowed Ben to "run the show," operating a whole barn worth of toy trains through that mythical "push of a button".

That was Neil's life in the early 80's. And so it's no wonder that he wrote an entire obscure album about the quest:

But listen: remember what I told you about Jane's role in our hiring decisions? That was one of my few successes. I worked my ass off for a decade and, at the end of it, Jane, and most of her peers, still did not have consistently meaningful and fulfilling lives. They were not "running the show" in the way Neil dreams of in Transformer Man. Jane was still in constant pain. She still could not talk. Every morning when I looked in her eyes I was not electrified with the joy Neil describes in his song and his quest; rather I was burdened with my own failure.

He sings "sooner or later you'll have to see the cause and effect... so many things still left to do but we haven't made it yet." Well, the people I worked with were not kids like Ben; they understood cause and effect far better than you or I ever will. Their disabilities caused them to be marginalized and miserable; their disabilities made them burdens instead of contributors. There were always "so many things still left to do."

But I'm being far too negative. Ben Young, somewhat famously, became an egg farmer. He used a corner of Neil's ranch to let his happy hens run wild in ways that he never could and he delivered their eggs all over the Santa Cruz mountains. And before that he attended the world's very best school for children with Cerebral Palsy, a school founded and funded by his famous parents.

We've covered a lot of ground in nearly 40 Shakey posts. I think I've demonstrated that Neil is plenty of things, all of them delightful: he's unhinged, unpredictable, utterly independent and capable of every mood from the spiritual to the boneheaded, often in the same song.

But I think his quest with Ben and the story behind Trans shows what is perhaps Neil's most admirable quality. He loves so deeply. The planet, his cars, his son: Neil Young is fiercely, maybe even insanely, dedicated to protecting and positively transforming the people and things that he loves.

I'm not fit to compare myself to Neil in this sense. But, more than once, I hosted an after hours staff party at my house and Jane always showed up, ready to sit in the middle, guzzling a cocktail or two through a straw. She was a fully accepted and vital member of our earnest team. I didn't help her much. Rather, I let her help me. And that's a transformation I'm proud of.

I saw Jane just one more time after I left that job. I invited her to my high school and asked her to speak to my students about people with disabilities, about their struggle and their perspectives. She showed up with a new communication device that day, a computer in place of the old board. She operated it through a head switch she could strain to wack, thereby initiating the speech that she'd prepped.

"Hello," her Trans voice began, a big grin on her face as she caught my eye in the back. "Let me start by telling you what I told your teacher the first time we ever met. I told him I was not what he or you think I am even though I am in this chair and even though I need this computer to talk for me. I am not stupid."

[percontaion-points]

TBWSIMBW chapter 14

Today's review might be difficult for some; reader discretion is advised

Click to see the rest of the snark & image descriptions

Click here for the rest of the series!

Chapter 14

 I got dressed and looked myself over in the mirror, the skirt was short but not too short that I looked like one of the skanks, and the top was fitted but not too much, just enough to hint at what was underneath.

I’M NOT LIKE OTHER GIRLS!!!111ELEVEN!!!!

I grabbed the little bag that I got from the family planning clinic and pulled out my box of pills. Scanning the packet, I found the first one and swallowed it quickly, smiling to myself.

The first pill is always in the upper left corner. Even if you haven’t taken BC before, it’s fairly self-explanatory. 

I hate how the narration makes it seem like it was somehow difficult to find. Either that, or Amber is 99 cents short of a dollar. 

“Oh yeah it’ll work. All the guys in school have been talking about your killer legs today. I must say that even I, who am totally in love with my girlfriend, have checked you out,” he admitted, shrugging.

 I slapped him on the shoulder playfully. “Ew! That’s gross, Sean. You’re one of my best friends! Best friends don’t perv on each other!” I stated, faking a shudder.

 “Actually, I’ve been checking you out too,” Kate joked. 

You know what would make this story better? If Amber was some sort of succubus, who made every single person crazy with lust. That would sure explain why every single person is so freaking crazy about sex throughout this entire book. Maybe it has an effect on EVERYBODY around her, which confuses even the straightest of girls, who turn and hit on Jake and Liam in their confusion. 

/somehow would prefer this to the bizarre, non-supernatural story we’ve been given

“Seriously, Rebecca, if you touch me one more time I’m going to go speak to someone about it. This is bordering on sexual harassment,” Liam growled, glaring at her and knocking her hand off of his thigh.

Uh… Why has he not been saying this the entire time?

I just hoped Jessica actually paid up once she realised I was his girlfriend all along. 

Don’t hold your breath, babe. She’ll probably go down swinging, and refuse to give up on Liam. 

“Jake’s going to get a lift to work. So, as long as I get you home by nine, he won’t even know we skipped,” he said happily.

Except for, you know. The school calling to complain. 

Oh, who am I kidding. The author probably doesn’t even know that schools will call the parent if a student misses class without an excuse. 

“I love you more, Angel.” I sighed and closed my eyes, drifting off to sleep, safe and warm, wrapped in his embrace.

Chapter 14 summary: This chapter starts off pretty much the same as the previous one had. Wake up, make out, get dressed. Amber intentionally wears a more revealing-than-usual outfit, which gets Liam all horny when he sees it. They discuss their “battle plan” for convincing the school that Liam slept with Amber later on. 

Again, Amber turns on the charm at lunch. After, as she’s walking away, Liam grabs her and tells her that it was kind of a lot. They start making out, and then he suggests that they should ditch the rest of the day. Amber agrees, and they make plans to go to the skate rink again. 

They skate, and then go to dinner. Over their food, Liam confesses the reason why he was such an ass to her all the time was because Jake didn’t want Liam around his sister. Hence the Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde act. Amber is angry that her brother would have done that, but laughs over the thought of Liam being beaten up by Jake. 

Back at her house, Amber confesses her love to Liam. They then start to make out, and Amber takes her shirt off, but not her bra. 

When Jake comes home, he asks how her relationship with Liam is going. He also warns her not to get too hurt, because Liam is a known-player. 

Jake then starts to talk about their father. Amber is a little upset at the thought of seeing him again, but Jake tells her she doesn’t have to see their dad. However, Jake says he has something to tell his father, but it’s not like he wants to see him, either. 

[rayeim0gen]

Bottom surgery is my holy grail because I’m an r/mtfbutch and have resigned myself to the fact that I’ll never be passable or perceived as a woman from the waist up, so I’m left with looking like one from the waist down.

HRT has done all it can for me.

I’ve been on it for 3.5 years now.

I’ve always been ambivalent about my male genitalia anyways.

Before I came out as trans I was a full asexual virgin as I’ve never been comfortable with anyone of any gender around my groin area.

Since I’ve came out and been embraced by the lesbian community there’s been no expectations for PiV penetration, so I’ve been fairly active and identifying as a Stone Butch.

Like I said in the post, I was indifferent about bottom surgery until I dated a post op trans girl for 6 months and got to get up close and personal with the results.

I had someone with first hand experience that I could ask any questions I had.

Dating her made me damn sure, without a shadow of a doubt in my mind, that I want bottom surgery.

I want to be able to actually experience and enjoy sex with the genitalia that my mind believes that I should have had this whole time, instead of resigning myself to always being a Stone Top in the relationship.

My genital dysphoria gets so intense at times that I’ve had to keep my jeans on during intercourse.

I hate it.

I hate the fact that I have to rely on the same health care system that repeatedly told me to go fuck myself while my mental health deteriorated and I was begging for help to approve me for gender affirmative care.

I hate the fact that I have preform a shitty little song and dance to try to impress the same system that sat idly by while my entire existence and every ounce of dignity I had was wiped off the face of the earth.

I hate the fact that I’ve been left to pick up the ashes and start over from absolutely nothing.

I spent 6 months sleeping on a camping foamy I bought at the dollar store because I couldn’t afford a mattress and I’ve been alienated from my family and friends and had no one to help me out with a spare one.

My girlfriend is the only reason I’m still alive. She’s amazing. She’s my rock.

If I don’t get the signature next week and end up giving up and detransitioning it won’t be because of my own failures and personal short comings or self destruction.

It’ll be because I got tired of sucking off the same doctors that refused to even listen to my desperate cries for help.

I’ve done all I can do with what I have at this point.

I’ve rebuilt a pretty damn good life from nothing, largely thanks to my girlfriend.

My life is as good as it’ll ever be, in spite of everything thing I’ve been through.

If this isn’t good enough to impress them, then I’ll never be there anyways and am correct to throw in the towel and detransition.

I’ve stayed true to my identity through everything up to this point. I’ve kept up with my HRT except for while I was homeless.

If that’s still not enough to show the system that I AM (or soon to be WAS) committed and dedicated to transitioning, then there’s nothing else I can do to convince them anyways…

[goombasa]

Little Samson: Good, But Not $2,000 Good

Y'all ever played Little Samson before?

It was an NES game developed by a tiny developer called Takeru. The didn't have a chance to do much before going under, and Little Samson, despite being published by a semi-well known name like Taito, was released two years after the launch of the SNES, so despite a pretty big install base, the lack of proper marketing led to the game not doing very well at all in the states.

It's a shame because, as a platformer, it is an incredibly fun, polished experience that has some impressive mechanics for an NES game, the biggest being its character switching mechanic. While there were other games that had you switching characters now and then, like Bucky O'Hare for example, it was more like switching weapons in a Megaman game, or each character having one niche, unique ability to them. In Little Samson, every character feels completely unique from everyon else.

You have Samson himself, who is a fairly good all rounder with a dependable attack, good jump and speed, and can cling to walls and ceilings. You have the dragon Kikira who can shoot charged up fireballs and fly for brief periods of time. There's Gamm the golem, who is incredibly slow and can't jump as high as other characters, but has a powerful punch attack that can be launched in four different directions, and is completely immune to spikes. And then there's K.O. the mouse, making him a small target, and he can not only travel along walls and ceilings like Samson, but also attacks by planting bombs, making him a more trap oriented character. Every character also has their own individual health bar, with some of them starting with less health than others, and their health can even be permanently upgraded by grabbing heart containers scattered around all the stages.

It's a fun, balanced, and interesting game that never got a proper chance to shine in its day and was only really appreciated once emulators became a big thing, allowing others to really explore a game console's vast library and discover hidden gems like this one.

Which is good, because getting a physical copy of this game is near impossible without taking out a small loan. At the time I write this, physical copies of Little Samson routinely sell for around $2,000 loose. It has nothing to do with the game's quality of course, the game is so expensive because the print run of this game was absolutely tiny. There are not a lot of copies of this game out in the wild and it's widely recognizes as THE rarest commercially released NES game.

And look, I say this as someone who loves video games, who grew up alongside the medium, and who was a retro game collector for a long while, before basically being priced out of the hobby: NO GAME regardless of quality or rarity, is worth that much. The people who are regularly spending this sort of money on a game like this aren't really the sort of people who are interested in the game for its historical value or because it's fun to play (I dare say most expensive games on the NES are terrible) but because it's rare and it's seen as an investment.

Little Samson, I feel like, is the perfect game to point at for the importance of preservation and emulation. I hate the idea of a world where only those who could afford to casually drop thousands of dollars on a thirty year old computer board encased in a plastic shell could play and experience this game on their own. There's also basically no real chance of it ever getting rereleased. The developer has long since been closed down, the developers scattered to the wind. Taito still exists, so chances are good they do own the IP, but like most one-off games from so long ago, it's probably buried so deep in the bowels of the company that I doubt even Taito knows they own it (if they actually do, that's just me speculating right now).

Is the game worth playing? Hell yes. Is it worth investing in a legit copy for an authentic experience? Hell no. Little Samson is an extreme example of how easy it is for something to just disappear into the ether and become inaccessible as physical media. While Digital Only is far from perfect, and we're already seeing the issues with that when large corporations control the platforms, but physical only isn't much better when there are so few physical copies that are only available to those who can afford a massive payout. For proper preservation, there should be at least a few physical copies that are preserved, with the digital versions of older media being easily accessible outside of a closed garden, something that open source emulation thankfully gives to us.

get yourself an emulator, folks. Grab those games. Experience something new. Look at the widest breadth possible. Play games from other countries. Play titles you've never heard of. Play licensed games that were actually fun and interesting. No one should have to pay out the nose to play a game from so long ago. Hell, no one should have to pay out so much to play a game from a console generation ago. Companies love to tout that they remake, rerelease, and remaster games all the time, but they'll only do that with games that there's demand for, or that they know will sell well, even if it is just for a joke or a meme (hi there, Bubsy).

I do believe in paying for games that are new. But I believe in paying a fair price for them, and if a game is not, and most likely never going to be made officially available to me, then there is no reason to feel bad about not paying for a used copy of an old game.

Thank you for indulging in this long-winded rant to say that emulators and game backups are important. Go play Little Samson. It's good. And it's free if you download a copy of Retroarch or Mesen or FCEUX or Nestopia.

Have fun!

[pstories]

Punishment (sorta)

It had been a long thirteen years, but Eric had finally finished school. Being that he came home to an empty house on his last day he decided to give himself a little celebration. He went into his bedroom and grabbed his favorite porno DVD, brought it to the living room and popped the disc into the player hooked up to the sixty-inch television. Just as he sat back on the couch and freed his dick the menu came on the screen and he selected the POV option. The woman in the video had huge tits, and they looked even bigger than usual on the big TV. When she pulled the guy’s dick out of his pants Eric imagined it was his. His dick was probably about the same size as Eric’s… eight inches long and about three fingers around. Eric took his erect cock in his hand and began stroking in time with the movement of the woman’s head as she blew the guy. It wasn’t long before he was totally into the movie, he mimicked the movements on-screen and imagined that he was about to blow his load all over those giant tits, stroking his cock in time with her movements. He was so into what he was doing that he didn’t even hear the car pulling into the driveway, nor did he hear the front door open and close. It wasn’t until his sister screamed “What the hell are you doing?” from the room entrance that he became aware of the rest of the world.

Hastily, he stuffed his cock back in his pants. He stood up and ran after his sister, who had gone into the next room and closed, but not locked, the door. Opening the door, he said “What are you doing home? I thought you were off at university for the semester.”

“I have a bunch of laundry that needs doing, and the machines on campus cost a dollar per load. So, I figured I’d save myself some money and do it here at home.” She replied.

“Look, I wasn’t expecting anyone else home until mom came home in a few hours.” Eric explained.

“Well, I didn’t exactly announce my arrival.” Her tone changed… “I’ll tell you what, if you’ll help me bring my laundry in, I won’t tattle.” Eric agreed and went outside to start bringing in his sister Yvette’s clothes.

Later that night, as everyone was getting ready for bed Eric’s mother called him to the living room. As he entered the room and before his mom could say anything his sister blurted. “I swear I didn’t tell her.” Eric’s mother, Yvonne, threw a side-eye glance at Yvette… “As I was straightening up…” she began “I accidentally pushed the eject button on the remote for the DVD player. Out popped this…” she held up Eric’s porno movie. “Care to explain?” Eric was literally speechless. “Apparently I’ve been raising a pervert.” She continued “My mother had a good way of stopping bad behavior.” Her eyes got a distant look as she remembered. “She caught me smoking once, and to teach me a lesson she stood there and watched while I smoked the whole pack… I threw-up twice, but she made me finish every last one. After that I couldn’t even be around someone smoking without getting nauseous.” Her eyes refocused as she returned to the present. So, my punishment for you is that I’m going to sit here and watch you masturbate for one hour. You may not use any lubricant other than your saliva. I don’t care how sore you get; you are to keep going. You may orgasm all you like, you can even use your own cum as a lubricant, but you may not stop for more than a few seconds. Starting NOW! Pull it out and get going.”

Eric thought briefly about rebelling and ignoring his mother, but something told him that things would get even worse fairly quickly. So, he freed his cock, gathered some spit on his fingers and started stroking. Probably because he had been interrupted before cumming earlier it didn’t take long for him to get stiff. Before he even realized it was happening, he was spurting all over his hand. “Keep going.” His mother said matter-of-factly. “You’ve still got fifty-six minutes to go.” His cock deflated a bit, as usual, but between the physical stimulation and the mental image in his head of the woman his father had left his mother for, Brandi, it was only a few moments until he was at full mast again. Maybe it wasn’t really appropriate for him to fantasize about his father’s girlfriend, but just thinking about her giant fake tits on her uber-petite body made him pump his cock faster.

He was on the verge of his second orgasm when his sister stood up and said, “This is too weird for me, I’ll be in my room.” And she stomped out of the room. As Eric’s eyes followed his sister across the room, he couldn’t help noticing that with every step Yvette’s ass jiggled a tiny bit. In the back of his head a tiny voice was saying that he shouldn’t think of his family members like that, but the voice screaming to cum drowned it out, and suddenly he was imagining his sister’s ass on Brandi’s body. It only took a few more strokes for his back to arch and his legs stiffen in orgasm. Not a lot of cum came out though, apparently the law of diminishing returns was already happening.

Yvonne wouldn’t relent though; she stood up from the chair she was in and stood in front of Eric. “You’ve still got forty-five minutes more.” Her voice softened a little, “What do you usually think about to get hard?” she asked “Your ex Erica? Some big boobed woman you see online?” Her voice dropped to a whisper, “Your sister? I saw the way you were looking at her. It’s okay, I know you’re a growing boy, it’s only natural.”

Eric wasn’t thinking clearly, his arm and shoulder was getting tired/sore and despite the lubrication of his cum his dick was feeling chafed. He blurted out, “Brandi… thinking about her always works.” His mother stiffened, “That slut? It’s not enough that she stole my husband, but now my son too?” She stepped in front of Eric, “We’ll see about that.” She said as she unbuttoned her shirt. “Are her tits better than mine?” Eric thought to himself that they really were, but he liked where this situation was heading and he wanted to see how far it would go, so he said maybe. She took the bait… “I’ll bet she wouldn’t do this…” she dropped to her knees and grabbed his slightly flaccid cock from his hand. Pausing momentarily, she started stroking, she was a little rough at first (probably out of practice), but she quickly found a smooth rhythm and returned him to full erection in just a few minutes.

Eric couldn’t believe what was happening, his own mother was stroking his cock. From the look in her eyes that wasn’t going to be all either. Sure enough, almost as soon as he thought it, she said, “I haven’t been with a man since your father left.” That was almost two years ago, Eric thought. “God, I need a good fucking.” She continued, standing up and unbuttoning her pants. She looked at Eric directly, “Yu can’t tell anyone about this…” She lifted her shirt over her head giving Eric his first real look at the plain, white bra covering her smallish boobs. Momentarily her shirt was on the floor, followed by her pants and bra… surprisingly she wasn’t wearing any panties. She stood before him, naked… “What do you think? Have I lost it?”

Eric replied, “I can honestly say that I’ve never wanted to fuck a woman more.”

She leaned down and forward so their faces were inches apart. “You’ll have to forgive the lack of foreplay, but I need your cock inside of me ASAP.” He would never forget her expression as she impaled herself on his member. Her eyes rolled back into her head and her mouth formed an ‘O’ shape, but no sound came out at first. Eventually, a low moan could be heard, and she started fucking in earnest. Not only had Yvonne skipped foreplay, but seemed to forget that any part of Eric existed other than his cock. She had positioned her legs on either side of him so her knees were on the couch, and she could move herself up and down without any input from Eric. She was lost in her own pleasure, bouncing as fast as she could while she mauled her tits and pinched her nipples. Then, with a cry, she froze, and Eric felt his balls get drenched with warm juices.

Yvonne drew in a shuddering breath and looked at her son, “Sorry/not sorry, I really needed that. Now we can take our time and enjoy ourselves.” Maybe that was her intention, but Eric knew better. When his mother came on his cock and drenched his balls it had pushed him right to the edge. It was probably only because he had already cum twice that he was able to keep from cumming again. So, after only a few minutes, he tensed up and orgasmed so quickly and suddenly that Yvonne didn’t even have a chance to climb off. Very little cum came out, thankfully the hour was pretty much over at this point. “I’m sorry mom, I wish I had lasted longer,” Eric said, “But honestly, between the exciting knowledge that I was having sex with my own mother and that your pussy feels amazing my head was spinning and I just couldn’t stop myself.”

Yvonne couldn’t keep the look of disappointment entirely off of her face, but she said, “It’s okay sweetie, I’m sure you’ll do better next time.” She climbed off him.

He looked up at her “So, there’s going to be a next time?”

She started picking up her clothes, “Two conditions, you can’t tell anyone, and your dick is mine now, you’re not to stick it in anyone else without my permission.”

Eric quickly agreed and got himself dressed before heading off to collapse on his bed. Both Yvonne and Eric apparently forgot about Yvette though…

[barnesbabee]

collab || J.Y

ᴋɪɴᴋᴛᴏʙᴇʀ ᴅᴀʏ 2 - ᴋɪɴᴋᴛᴏʙᴇʀ ᴍ.ʟɪꜱᴛ

Summary: Two famous porn stars have a fun collab together.

Pairing: Jeong Yunho x gn!reader

Words: Just enough

⚠ although there is no mention of gender, the reader wears makeup and lingerie, so if you are uncomfortable with that, don't read  ⚠

As Yunho dried his hair with a small towel, he heard the familiar ding sound from his social media. He had just finished uploading the edited version of his live stream, so it wasn't unusual for him to be contacted by a bunch of people right after, however, he didn't expect to see you.

You weren't well known in the porn scenario, as you were fairly new and the competition was vast, but your 'Around The World' series had become a huge success and a major hit for its originality.

Yunho was quite a fan of the series, so when he saw your message, his fingers were crossed.

Y/N: Hello! My name is Y/N, I'm not sure if you know my work, but I am a porn star that is currently doing a series called 'Around The World' where I... well, fuck people all around the world. My next stop is South Korea and I have seen your work before and I think our style is very similar and I would love to do a collab with you! Feel free to check out my work on my page, I hope to hear from you soon! xoxo

The tall man squealed like a high schooler getting a text from his crush, he's always wanted a collab and now he was about to get one in one of the biggest series of the moment!

Yunhxxx: Hello Y/N! I am aware of your series and I am a fan! I would love to do the collab with you! I'll send you my number so we can talk about the details more comfortably :)

Part of your anxiousness died down at his response. Most porn stars were very polite and kind in front of the camera, and in business discussion, all for that quick buck, but you'd find, with your series, that a lot of them were just assholes with a huge ego. You had a good feeling about Yunho, but you didn't want to get your hopes up and then be disappointed.

The arrangements didn't take long, as you were both excited for the collab to happen, making it very easy to communicate. Yunho was kind enough to offer his own home for you to sleep in, arguing that 'whoever fucks me gets to sleep in my house for free'.

Yunho spent the weekend preparing everything for your arrival on Monday morning: he cleaned his whole house, stocked his fridge and cabinets with all sorts of food, and sanitized every toy of his. By the time he received your 'I'm on my way!' text, his house was the cleanest it had ever been.

The man showered, put on his best cologne, and applied some dark eyeshadow under his eyes. As he stood in front of the closet in his briefs only, he wondered what he should go for. A sophisticated look? A sexy look? An outlaw-looking look? He wanted something to get you immediately attracted to him. Yunho wanted to make you feel good, not to make you act as if you felt good.

Ultimately he chose a black button-up and black suit pants. He decorated his long fingers (that he had come to learn was something many people liked about him) and rolled up the sleeves of his shirt.

Yunho was aware of his innocent appearance. He had had his cheeks squeezed one too many times, so he caught on quickly. However, the man loved to play with his looks. He loved to make people wonder what kind of person he was, with a cute face, yet an intimidating look.

Before he knew it, his doorbell rang. Yunho took one last look in the mirror, just to make sure everything was in its place and walked towards the door. The first hello wasn't awkward at all, as you'd already had a few zoom calls to discuss what would happen in your collab, just to make sure there were no misunderstandings.

Once you stepped in with your suitcase, you couldn't help but notice how neat, modern, and well decorated his house was. The walls were white with big windows, and the furniture was a mix of grey, light blue, and white. Yunho lead you to the guest room where you'd be staying, and it was a lot nicer than you expected. The bed was high and large, the duvet was grey with a bunch of fluffy white and red pillows decorating it. In front of the bed was a modern black vanity with lightbulbs around the squared mirror, and against the wall in front of the door was a black, sliding door wardrobe, with a large, orange, and red abstract painting of a couple. His house looked simple yet classy, with just the right amount of colour and decoration. You took a look at him, his dark look contrasting the house.

"You already got prepared?"

Yunho looked a little puzzled for a second, but then understood. "Oh! Oh no, you've just arrived, you must be tired! This is just... how I dress?" He said, feeling a little embarrassed.

You took a good look at his outfit.

"You always dress like that? Wow..."

Yunho's cheeks became a little red at the comment, and he stumbled over his words as he thanked you. He was used to receiving compliments when he had his clothes off, but with clothes on? Not so much... Before closing the door, Yunho told you to feel at home, and that when you were ready you could start setting everything up in the room he used to shoot.

The man had never felt that nervous, so when he finally closed the door, he immediately headed to his living room, and found the whiskey bottle he kept for emergencies. He poured a generous glass and sat on the couch, scrolling through his phone as he waited for you.

You were pretty much used to the routine, and since you had a stopover in a neighboring country and spent the night there, the trip hadn't been too tiring. You sat on the very convenient vanity and re-did your makeup. You liked to match your look to your type of content, so you went for a dark look: dark purple lipstick, a heavy, black smokey eye, and loads of mascara. You made sure to apply a lot, so it would run down your face and give the viewers the fucked out look they loved to see.

The lingerie matched your makeup: black lace lingerie with some bling here and there, and a garter belt to accessorize. You grabbed your robe from your suitcase and exited the room.

"Yunho?" You called, peeking your head from behind the wall.

"Hm?"

His eyes widened when he looked up. You were completely different from the person he had met.

"I am ready if you are!"

He nodded and stood up, downing the rest of his 2nd whiskey cup in one go. Yunho took you upstairs and opened the door to his 'studio'.

In the center of the room was a carpet, and a big, empty space behind it.

"I usually move the bed or the couch over there, depending on what I want to do that day. I found that it was easier to move the furniture than the whole set up." He explained, pointing at the empty space.

Against the wall, opposite of you, there was a bed, much like the one on your bedroom, and a nice, black leather couch. Beside you there was a closet, where Yunho kept all his toys, accessories, and streaming outfits. Other than that it was just the usual setup: a desk with a computer, professional lights, and a camera.

Yunho walked over to the couch and moved it with ease to the empty space.

"So we've already decided?" You asked.

The man smirked as if simply entering the room turned him into a completely different person.

"I already have everything planned out for you dear, it would be rude to have my guests work."

You blushed slightly, and sat on the couch, waiting for the green light.

You watched as he opened the closet, displaying his wide collection. He picked a bunch of stuff that he set on top of a towel on the floor.

"Alright, that's about it."

You cocked your head to the side, in confusion.

"You're not getting dressed?"

Yunho reached for the choker he had brought and softly placed it around your neck, tying it just tight enough. He hooked his finger on the big metal ring on the front and tugged on it. You followed his silent command and knelt on the ground, in front of the couch.

"I'm already dressed, for the concept we're gonna try."

You were getting curious and excited. You stayed still as he started up the live stream. Yunho turned on the lights, set up the camera, and pressed 'Start Live Video'. The screen counted down from five, until the live started.

Yunho sat on the couch behind you, and placed his large hand on your head.

The man smirked as soon as the comments started raining.

There was a mixture of fuck yeah's and happy cheers as they recognized Yunho, and became excited for what was to come. The live was obviously happening on your account, although you would always split the tips with the person you worked with.

"Hello," Yunho started, and you let him take the lead "welcome to the 24th edition of Around The World, I am today's guest, and we have such a great show for you today, don't we?"

Yunho tugged on your hair, making you wince. You looked at the camera and nodded.

The 30 dollar donation ding sounded, announcing that someone had made a request.

'Make her sit on your thigh'

You let Yunho take the lead once more, hooking his finger on your choker's hoop and pulling you up, to sit on his thigh. You hummed as you rolled your hips, causing friction between your core and his thigh. Your hand ran along his torso, feeling the fabric of his shirt.

"He has too many clothes, don't you think?" You asked the camera, in a flirty tone.

There was a rain of comments agreeing with you, and you immediately got to work, unbuttoning his shirt slowly. His dick print was already very visible in his pants, and you could now understand why he wanted to wear that look.

You removed his shirt, slowly and teasingly, as the viewers praised Yunho's toned body.

The male hooked his finger on your underwear and snapped it against your skin. Your little whimper at the sudden pain made him smirk.

Yunho ran his hands along your body, making you shiver from the cold metal of his rings.

Tips and donations rained down with many requests, and so you went back on the floor and laid your head on Yunho's thigh, your face mere inches away from his hard-on. You perked your ass up and traced the shape of his cock with your finger.

"What do you think? Should we reward them?" Yunho asked, petting your head as he stared into the camera.

As expected, everyone gave you the green light to continue, so you slowly opened his fly, to find he had no underwear on. You freed him from his pants, gripping his length in your hand. You kept eye contact with the male, and although you were a professional, you were always nervous when you had to take dicks on the bigger side.

You spat on his tip, and played with his cock for a second, before slowly inserting it in your mouth. Yunho groaned and threw his head back, taking in the warmth of your mouth. His hand was tangled in your hear, gripping it and tugging on it from time to time.

"Shit, you're doing so good..."

Yunho was very vocal, to your (and the viewer's) pleasure.

The 50$ notification ding sounded, and a message played right after.

'bby I wanna see you jump on his cock'

Yunho smirked and gripped your hair, in a firm, yet not painful way. He swiped his thumb across your bottom lip, cleaning the remaining saliva.

"Hmm, you know what, so do I."

You stripped from your underwear, in a sensual way for the viewers (and Yunho) to enjoy.

Yunho slapped his thigh, and you climbed onto his lap, slowly but surely sinking down on his length. You gripped onto his shoulders for stability and groaned as every inch of his cock disappeared inside of you.

His hands gripped your ass, spreading your cheeks in a beautiful way for the camera to see. The male helped you, as you rode him, not only by holding your hips and guiding you, but also by snapping his hips up against yours. Filthy slapping sounds along with the mixture of your moans echoed in the room, and the donations were reaching their peak.

"F-fuck baby you're s-so good, you're doing so well."

You gripped his shoulders harder, as his praises drew you closer and closer to your edge.

"They're c-close! Should we l-let them cum?"

It was impressive how professional Yunho was. How he looked so immersed in you, so tired and fucked out, with his fringe sticking to his forehead and eyes burning into your soul, yet he didn't forget to interact with the viewers.

There were many people leaning towards yes, begging to hear the way you sounded as you came, and so he worked hard until you screamed his name and tightened around his cock. He let you rest and recompose for a second, but the way you clenched around him made it impossible for him to hold it in any longer.

"Shit, get on the ground."

You gladly complied, and got on your knees for him, immediately sticking out your tongue, as you could predict what would come after.

Yunho jerked himself off to your fucked out face, and soon a string of curses came out of his mouth, as he spilled all over your face. He smirked and wiped some of his cum off of your face with his thumb.

"Say ah, pretty baby."

You smiled and opened your mouth. He inserted his finger in your mouth and you happily licked it clean.

Yunho cupped your face with his hand, and smiled.

"You behaved so well, I might have to reward you again."

His head tilted to the side, pointing to the couch, and you followed. You sat down on the couch, and Yunho knelt in front of you. His arms wrapped around your thighs and pulled you forward, so your hole would be of easy access to him.

The man teased you, as his tongue danced around your hole, not quite getting where you wanted him. You rolled your hips up, earning a slap to your inner thigh.

He looked up at you, with a hint of darkness in his eyes.

"Behave."

It didn't take long for you to get what you wanted, as he started tongue fucking you, with the help of his fingers. You gripped his hair, and your back arched as your high approached once more.

You came quickly, with his tongue still inside you, and he held your trembling legs and body, to keep you stable.

He didn't move for a second, giving you time to breathe and rest. After you had recomposed yourself, he helped you up, and the two of you shared a heated kiss, Yunho's hands never leaving your ass, that he definitely had a fixation with.

You finished the stream by thanking the viewers and donors and shut everything off. Once everything was done, you sighed and plopped onto the couch.

"Do you not want to shower?" Yunho questioned, as he saw the mess in your face and body.

You chuckled.

"Yes I do, very much, but I'm so fucked out..."

Yunho very kindly scooped you up.

"Well, I wouldn't want my guest to work too hard, I'll help you out."

[write-orflight]

Settle Down: Prologue

**Gif Not Mine**

Prev -  Next

Pairings: SpencerXReader (kinda enemies to lovers) 

Rating: M

Words: 2.5K

Warnings: None, will be smut in eventual chapters

Request: OPEN/CLOSED

Summary: Y/N and Spencer don’t get along but turn to each other for the one thing you need someone else for... A baby. You can plantonically start a family, right?

A.N: this is a bad bio but idk how else to put it. it’s a baby fic! I wouldn’t say this is enemies to lovers but they certainly don’t like each other at first so it kinda is. comment on this chap or message to be on the taglist. much love, Cia

                Prologue:  A Powerpoint, Really? 

If you had told 16 year old Y/N that she’d be working at the FBI, she would’ve called you batshit. 

Not only, did you not have any respect for authority or any inclination for rules in that matter, working for the FBI was never in the forefront of your mind. But when given the option of Jail or a full time job with benefits, it was fairly easy to make a choice. You remember the first day when you met your work partner and now best friend Penelope Garcia or specifically the day she caught you. 

You were waiting tables like you did every weekend to stay afloat. Today was unreasonably slow so you were just finding small things to do. That’s when she came in, an extremely brightly dressed woman, sat at the bar of the diner. 

“Hi, how can I help you?” You smile at the woman who looks up at you and smiles. 

“Yes, I’m looking for the Emerald City.” She says, smirking at you. Your face drops, you knew what she was talking about. 

When you started hacking it was only supposed to be a one time thing. You grew up poor, spent most of your life poor so when you saw your childhood home was set to be demolished to build a fancy new headquarters for Scotty Realins, an upcoming asshole tech CEO, without a cent going to your parents.  Something in you snapped. You had already been pretty decent at code and you flirted with a couple of guys in your STEM classes to learn how to hack so you would say you were pretty good at this point. So you hacked into the website and made sure all the Revenue for that day actually was wired to lower-income housing. At the end of the day, it was only a couple hundred thousand dollars but what was pennies to Scotty Realins changed some people's lives. 

So you started doing it more, to different companies under the pseudonym OZ. The money always went to different places that needed it whether it was paying the rent for a bunch of families or anonymous large donations to food banks or soup kitchens. You gained a bit of fame in the hacker community as a modern day Robin Hood. 

All good things come to an end though. And the end was standing in front of you in clunky, rainbow colored jewelry. 

“You don’t look like a cop.” you say, crossing your arms. 

“I’ll do you one better.” She says, pulling her FBI badge out, showing it to you briefly. You curse under your breath. “I’ve been following you for a while, OZ. Though I wasn’t expecting the man behind the curtain to be a woman. I will say, having my computers route back to a loop of “We’re not in Kansas anymore.” everytime I tried to track your IP was impressive. I couldn’t even be mad about it.” 

“Clearly not that impressive because you found me.” 

“Still took me longer than usual, which is saying a lot.” 

“This is a really long winded conversation if you’re just here to arrest me.” You say, taking off your apron. No use in keeping it on if you were going to be in handcuffs soon. 

“That’s because I’m not here to arrest you. I’m here to offer you a job, to work under me as a Tech Analyst in the Behavioral Analysis Unit of the FBI.” Penelope says. 

“And if I don’t want to?” 

“Then you’re going to want a lawyer and my very good handsome friend outside is going to arrest you. You’re smart and you have a chance to help people which is why you started hacking in the first place, right? Please don’t make me do that.” She looked at you pleadingly like she really cared and didn’t want you to go to prison. You didn’t say anything but something told you she’d been in the same boat as you before. 

“Hmmm…. I’m tired of waiting tables anyway.” 

So you uprooted your life and moved from Philadelphia to Quantico. Garcia took you under her wing and pretty soon the two of you functioned in her batcave like a well oiled machine. You could do without the constant gore that filled your screens but at the end of the day, you loved what you were doing and you wouldn’t change that for the world. 

The team was an added bonus, it was nice to have your own little found family. Garcia, of course, taking on the role as best friend mere days after your first meeting. You met Derek Morgan right after you agreed to take the job, he’d been there to arrest you and was very glad he wouldn’t have to do that. He told you often about how you reminded him of his sister and he regarded you in the role of younger sister from that day on. The next person you met had been Aaron Hotchner, your new boss. It took him a couple of weeks to warm up to you, you guessed he had a difficulty trusting new people and when he would call you guys for information he would always ask for Garcia instantly instead of you, not very trusting in your skills yet. Though that changed when you had been the one to track down the Unsub once. 

Rossi was easily won over when you told him about your Italian side of the family, specifically your grandmother who loved to cook and left you a lot of recipes. You and him often went back and forth in sharing dishes. Emily and JJ had also been easily won over with one bottle of tequila and a regrettable girls night. 

Then there was Dr. Spencer Reid.     

You had a lot of opinions on Dr. Reid, most of them weren’t good. It wasn’t like you hated him in fact, you’d consider him a friend but the two of you seemed to butt heads on well, everything. Both of you needing to be the smartest in the room and neither of you wanting to admit when you’re wrong will do that though. You still respected Spencer though, he was an extreme asset to the team and he was your best friend’s other best friend so you couldn’t really hate the guy. 

You also didn’t have to like him. 

So you had a good job, good friends, a nice house to live in. You were finally happy, content even. So why did it feel like something was missing? 

The something missing came in a stroller pushed by JJ the next week. 

The last case had been rough. Really rough. So while the team was on their way back you and Garcia hatched a plan for JJ to come visit from maternity leave and surprise everyone with the baby. While you guys were waiting for them to land, Garcia wanted to show JJ something she had gotten her godson so JJ asked if you could watch him and feed him until she got back, which you obviously agreed to. As you were feeding the child his bottle, and his ravioli sized fist wrapped around your finger you realized what had been missing. 

Fuck, you wanted a kid. 

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

You told Garcia first, it slipped when she noticed how off you were being. You wanted to have a kid bad now and you knew you didn’t want to wait. Penny tried to convince you that you’d “find the right person” but let’s face it, with this job, long term relationships were few and far inbetween. Plus you didn’t need a man, you had a good job and insurance, you knew you could provide a child with a life full of love it deserved. So you made an appointment at a fertility clinic. As the doctor was talking to you about your options, you felt yourself feeling more and more down about your decision and that only increased as you looked in the book of sperm donors in front of you. You looked at too many serial killers daily that it made you uneasy, carrying a stranger's baby. Maybe Garcia was right and your best bet was to wait for ‘the right guy.’ Even though you really didn’t want to. 

You walked into work later, a little sullen. Heading immediately towards the coffee machine. Penelope, who had been at Derek’s desk, makes a beeline towards you.  

“So how’d it go?” She says, smiling. “Did you make an appointment to be baby-fied?” 

You sigh. “I couldn’t do it, Pen.” You say, frowning. “I just-- We see so much here that I don’t want to accidentally end up with a sociopath’s baby because I couldn’t wait.” 

“But you don’t want to wait, do you?” She says softly, empathizing with you. 

“No, I don’t.” You sigh again, finishing making your cup before walking back out into the bullpen. JJ had brought Henry again for the others to see on the slow paperwork day. You tried not to look bitter but it was like she was flaunting the one thing you couldn’t have, even if it was unintentional. You watched as she handed the baby to Spencer, who instantly smiled and made faces at the laughing baby. 

“Spencer is actually a surprisingly good godfather.” Garcia says, smiling at the exchange in front of you. “Kinda makes you wonder what he’d be like with his own baby geniuses.” She says before walking over to the group and scooping her godson out of Spencer’s arms, Spencer still held on to his fist with his pinky, smiling down at the child. 

“Yea…” You say, to no one in particular. 

You had an idea. A probably bad one. 

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

You were sitting in the coffee shop, nervously fiddling on your laptop while waiting for Spencer. You were surprised he even agreed to meet with you for coffee though you were sure he was just doing it out of curiosity because you told him you had something important to talk about. You weren’t even sure if you were going about this the right way. Hey Spencer, I know we’re not even friends but how would you feel about fathering my child? God, this was going to be terrible. 

You looked up when you heard the tell-tale bell on the door indicating someone walking in. Spencer gave you a small wave before going to the counter to get a coffee. You took that time to nervously sip yours. Your heart was beating a mile a minute, it was now or never. 

“Hey.” Spencer says, when he finally gets to the table, coffee in hand. “Why are you all the way in the corner?” 

“This isn’t really a conversation I want overheard.” 

Spencer tilts his head confused at that. “So what is the conversation we’re supposed to be having. I asked Garcia but she seemed to also have no idea.” 

“Yea, I didn’t tell her on account of this maybe going extremely bad.” You say, before sighing and turning your laptop around so Spencer could see the Powerpoint screen you have on it. When he reads it,  he chokes on his coffee.

“A Powerpoint, really?” He chokes, still coughing around the coffee. “Y/N, what is this?” 

“This is Reasons Why You Should Make a Baby With me.” 

“Yea, I got that from the title, Y/N.” He says, still shocked. “Is this a joke?!” 

“I wish it was, Reid.”

“Can I at least ask why you thought a Powerpoint was the best way to ask?”   

“Because I felt you’d be more inclined to consider it if you knew I spent time on a presentation.” 

“That’s true.” He leans back, taking a sip of his coffee, gesturing for you to continue. You hit the next slide. 

“Ok, reason number one is we both want kids.” You say, looking at him. “Garcia told me the other day that you were talking about how much you wanted a kid and I also want a kid.”  

“I did tell Garcia that.” He muses. 

“Reason two, an offspring between us would probably result in another genius. As you know, you are smart.” 

“Yes.” 

“And I am smarter.” You say, Spencer opens his mouth to protest but you keep talking. “A child between us could probably be the next Einstein.” 

Spencer nods and you continue. “Reason three, I’d be a great mom.” 

“That’s a debatable fact.” 

“No, it’s not. You’ve seen me around kids, have I ever given an inclination that I wouldn’t be?” You ask, he shakes his head. “Plus, I happen to think you’d be a great father. Which brings me to Reason 4.” You say clicking through the next slide. “If you don’t want to be involved in raising that’s fine. I’m perfectly fine raising the child myself an--” 

“What?! No!” Spencer says, sitting up. “If I do agree to have this baby, which I’m not completely doing yet. I want to be involved, I want them to know I’m their father and that I didn’t abandon them because I know what that’s like.” He says, seriously. You nod, already knowing this about Spencer. 

“Reason 5: I’d be the perfect platonic co-parent, I won’t ask you for anything unless it’s pertaining to the child and if you decide that later down the road you want your own family, I’d be supportive and help you along the way.”

Spencer nods. “We’re never home enough for a baby.” 

“That’s where you’re wrong because I’ll be here. I mainly stay here anyway and if there’s ever a case where you need a tech analyst to fly out, Garcia’s already agreed to have it already be her when I floated the baby idea around last month.”  

Spencer hummed, silent for a second. “You really want a kid, huh?” 

“Yes.” You say. 

“So much so you’re asking me?” Spencer says, matter-of-factly. “A Coworker you barely speak to?”

Well, when he says it like that. 

“Yes. I’m asking because while we don’t get along the best you are still one of the most compassionate, understanding men I know. And I know that if I have to raise this kid with somebody, you would love them just as much as I would.” You say, Spencer nods at that. “So, please?” 

Spencer sighs. “When’s your next appointment? At the fertility clinic?” 

You didn’t even want to ask how he knew about that. “Next tuesday.” 

He nods. “I’m going with you.” He says, standing, pulling the strap of his messenger bag over his shoulder. “This isn’t a yes.” 

“It’s not a no, either.” You point out. 

“No, it’s not.” He says, leaving you behind in the coffee shop with a huge grin on your face.

Taglist: @moonshinerbynight​ @crimeshowtrash​

Message/reply to be tagged!!

[isthisthingeven0n]

knowing you : s.r

spencer has been a regular at your cafe for a few months, and after working up the courage to ask you on a date he disappears out of the blue without an explanation. (2.4k)

knowing you / forgetting you / remembering you / with or without you / starting over, with you 

There were elements to your job that you had a love/hate relationship with. The mornings where you woke up before the sun fully had, dealing with rude customers deprived of their first dose of caffeine along with the pseudonyms they provide you with (which you’ve learned you can’t always yell out as the elders freak out.) And lastly, your staff (but they tended to lean heavier on the love side of things.)

Yet, amongst all of it, you still managed to smile by the time you closed up in the evening. You adored your little cafe, though it was never heaving with people, it was comfortable.

“Hey, look who’s hovering outside.” Your colleague, Maggie nudges you playfully as you glance over the counter to the large window filled with your menu written in calligraphy.

And standing in front of it, the quiet smart guy you’ve grown fond of; Spencer.

A smile grows across your face, but you hide your head in the steam that rises from the milk for a second. “It’s been what, two days since he was last here?” Maggie quips, waiting for you to comment.

“Everyone’s gotta get coffee somewhere, Mags.” You remind her, brushing it off.

Spencer was a customer at the end of the day, just like everyone else. Just because he came to your cafe doesn’t mean he’s here for anything more than his double espresso and a blueberry muffin. Even if your heart wished it could be more.

Pushing open the door, the little bell sounds and Spencer looks up before smiling over to you. “Morning, Spencer.” You beam as you lean across the counter as Spencer eyes up the various pastries and paninis you had to offer this morning.

“Hi,” Spencer speaks quietly, clutching his satchel across his chest. “could I get a double espresso and two muffins, please?”

“A double?” Maggie pitches in, and Spencer looks over to your colleague who stands beside you, holding back her tongue as Spencer nods. 

“Caffeine stimulates a similar effect as the stress hormone cortisol, which is secreted in large amounts after an hour or two of waking up in the morning. It takes on the form of waking you up, making you believe you need the caffeine as, without it, you can have stomach aches, headaches and trembles.” Spencer rambles, and you nod in appreciation for the knowledge. “And I prefer a double.”

“Guess you like strong coffee, then.” Maggie mutters, giving you the eye as you smile to yourself.

Turning around you carry on prepping the machine as the espresso drips into the paper cup. “Two muffins, huh? Saving one for later?” You chuckle as you pick the two freshest muffins out that are still warm from the oven.

And then you hear it, Spencer’s awkward chortle that causes butterflies to flutter in your stomach and rise to your throat.

Swallowing the butterflies back down, you place the box onto the counter alongside his coffee, his name written across it with a smiley face.

“Well, I wanted to take one for my friend, Garcia. She’s been by here before, I don’t know if you’d remember her?” Spencer explains and watches you closely, noticing how your eyes drift off into deep thought and your tongue slips through your lower lip before you shake your head. “She probably complimented every single detail in the cafe, wore something colourful?” He adds, and suddenly your eyes light up as you remember.

“Penelope? How could I forget! I’ll give her a complimentary muffin if she comes in again.” You giggle, and Spencer’s eyes crinkle up as he accepts the small box and coffee.

“She’ll love that. Thank you.” Spencer states as he places the cash onto the counter and adds a few dollars to your tip jar- something you forget exists as it collects dust most days, but Spencer always leaves a three dollar tip.

“Thank you, Spencer. Have a good day.” You begin to turn away as you clean up the counter and coffee machine, missing the longing glance Spencer has before he heads to the door, but thankfully Maggie is watching like a hawk.

“Have a good day?” Maggie mutters, crossing her arms. “He was giving you the eyes, babe.” She comments, but you roll your eyes in response once more.

Picking up your tray, you move past the counter and over to clean up a table. “He wasn’t, Maggie.” You simply reply. 

“He was dear.” A new voice pitches in, one of your regulars, Annie. “Finding someone who looks at you like he does is a rare thing, I would know.” Annie’s focus drifts to the empty seat opposite her, one that has been vacant for a few months since her husband passed. 

“I don’t know, Annie,” You trail off, but some of your other regulars also comment on the small looks exchanged between you and Spencer. “Sorry. am I being interrogated in my own cafe?” You joke as three of your regulars laugh before returning to their own conversations. 

“Don’t let it slip out of your grasp, Y/n.” Annie finishes as she rises to her feet, leaving her mug with a few dollar bills underneath before walking out of the exit. 

Sighing deeply, you run your fingers through your hair as your mind goes blank, unable to apprehend how various people have seen you giving Spencer those soppy glances and the fact they might be reciprocated? 

You shrug it off, allowing your mind to return to work as another customer comes in, and your day can proceed as normal. 

*

“Bye guys,” You wave off your colleagues as Maggie closes the door behind her, leaving you to close up for the evening. 

It had been a fairly slow day, but Thursdays tended to be in the cafe so it wasn’t anything to worry about. 

As you walk around to the counter and bend down to collect the leftover cakes you hear the bell chime. “Sorry, we’re closed!” You call out, placing a few cakes away before lifting your head up to see a rather flustered Spencer. “Spencer?” 

Pushing his hair out of his face, Spencer sighs happily as he smiles to you. “Hi, I, I’m sorry I didn’t realise you closed at 6.” He rambles, a look of hopelessness in his gaze. “I’ll head out, sorry for bothering you, Y/n.” 

Spencer turns around, but before he reaches the door, you stop him. “Spencer?” Immediately, Spencer awkwardly spins on his heels, facing you once more. “Would you like a coffee, one for the road anyway?” You shyly suggest, watching as Spencer’s smile only widens as he nods. 

“I’d love that, I, I only just got back from a work trip and thought I’d see if you were still open.” Spencer explains as you push aside your containers and take out a go cup. 

“That’s alright, I like to do what I can for my regulars.” You chuckle, placing the cup on the counter. As Spencer reaches into his satchel, you shake your head. “Oh don’t worry ‘bout it, Spencer.” You tell him and Spencer pauses. 

“I have to pay you, Y/n!” He laughs, but you insist. “Well, at least let me help you close up.” 

“Spencer it’s fine honestly. You’re probably tired as it is.” You shrug him off, expecting him to just walk out after that. 

But Spencer isn’t like any other guy, he takes a sip of his coffee and removes his satchel and places it on a chair. “Where do I start?” He questions, rolling the sleeves of his purple shirt up to his elbows, prepared for business. 

The sight makes you laugh lightly, he looks adorable in every sense which makes you slightly flustered. “Well erm,” You look around, trying to think of an easy job that’ll result in the least hassle for him. “how about you put these cakes away? I’ll drop them off to the food shelter on my way home.” You explain, motioning to the containers and Spencer nods, taking his place behind the counter whilst you clean the tables. 

Pausing from placing the cakes into containers, Spencer looks up in awe as you carry on cleaning. “Do you have any flaws?” He thinks to himself, knowing the answer rationally is yes, as every human being has 10 design flaws in the human body, but you personally, he can’t imagine any. 

“Did you say something, Spencer?” You quip, lifting your head up as Spencer quickly shakes his head, missing the smile on your lips as you hold back a soft laugh. 

“Which food bank do you take these to?” Spencer asks as you move onto your last table, picking up your small menus and coasters whilst you place them onto the chairs. 

“Usually the one two blocks over, but sometimes I stop on the way to Gary - he’s a homeless veteran who camps out under the bus shelter. He’s a good man, but life hasn’t been kind to him.” You explain, thinking how different his life could’ve been. “I’ve tried offering him a job here before, but he shakes uncontrollably.” 

“That sounds like a sign of PTSD, Veterans used to go undiagnosed during the war and suffered from vivid flashbacks, trembling, nausea and intrusive thoughts. Most were outcasted from society, but expected to adjust to normal life afterwards which is what leads many to the streets.” Spencer explains, and once he finishes, you raise an eyebrow. 

“And here I thought you were just a pretty face.” You chuckle, causing a blush to cross Spencer’s cheeks. “You’ve never told me what you do Spencer, outside of drinking heavy doses of caffeine.” 

Spencer rests his hands out over the ledge behind the counter as you walk over, discarding the cleaning supplies beside him. “I work for the FBI.” He starts, and you nod along, trying to hide your surprise. “For the BAU, the behavioural analysis unit. We analyse peoples behaviour to assist in cases around the country to help solve crimes.” Spencer explains simply, not wanting to overcomplicate the matter as your eyes widen. 

“So you analyse people’s behaviour? Does that mean you’ve analysed me?” You slowly trail off as you move away from Spencer and sit down at one of the tables, suddenly feeling self-conscious as his eyes remain on you.

Moving across the cafe, Spencer pulls out the chair opposite you and rests his hands on the table, firmly clasped together. He doesn’t want to lie to you, but he equally does not want to sound like a creep.

“You can be honest, Spencer.” It’s as if you can read his mind as you give him those warm eyes that greet him in the mornings, making him sure that whatever happens at work, you’ll be alright when he next comes in.

Fidgeting ever so slightly, Spencer closes his eyes to allow his mind to focus- something that is usually effortless, but whenever you cross his thoughts they become scrambled.

“You are a warm person naturally, an extrovert as you invite people into your cafe. Mornings are a struggle as you keep a refillable cup by your side next to the coffee machine. I saw you refill it last Tuesday and it must’ve been at least your third cup as I was later that day. You like to please others, make them happy and by doing so you sacrifice your own wellbeing. Helping people makes you happy, but you don’t do it for selfish reasons which I like a lot about you, Y/n.” Spencer explains, and as he looks up you stare at him in a state of awe.

“And you got all that, from interacting with me every week?” You laugh lightly, leaning back in your chair as astonishment crosses your eyes as you click your tongue. 

“Yes.” Spencer curtly nods. “That and I have an IQ of 187, an eidetic memory and 3 PHD’s.” He adds nonchalantly. 

“Just casually slipping that into conversation, Doctor.” You raise an eyebrow, and Spencer brushes his fingers through his curls. 

Tearing your eyes from him, you look up at the clock and swear under your breath. “I’m sorry, Spencer, I’ve got to go.” You tell him with a sad smile, not wanting this to end as he gathers his things along with his cold coffee- not that he’d ever tell you otherwise.

Spencer hovers by the doorway as you switch off the last of the lights and juggle the containers in your arms along with your keys. “Let me help with that, Y/n.” Spencer reaches out, his fingers gliding over yours as he takes the boxes painfully slowly.

“Thanks,” You mutter as you turn the sign over on the door and lock it behind you whilst Spencer stands idly outside, the temperature dropping fastly compared to the LA sunshine he had experienced mere hours beforehand. “my cars just up here, do you mind?”

Shaking his head, Spencer walks alongside you. It feels strange, interacting with him outside of your little bubble, but to him, he likes the chance to burst the comfort bubble.

Bearing in mind all that Penelope and Derek have told him on the jet home, Spencer places the containers in the trunk of your car before you close it.

“Well, this is me.” You rock back and forth on your heels as Spencer wracks his mind to communicate with his mouth. “Spencer?” You wave your hand over his face, and suddenly he snaps out of his deep thoughts.

“Sorry,” He mutters, tugging on his scarf. “Y/n, would you like to go out somewhere, sometime? I mean, I love your cafe, but a change of scenery never hurt.” Spencer asks, and he can see the surprise in your expression as you glance away to your feet. “If not, that’s okay. I understand-” 

“I’d love to.” You cut him off from his own doubts as you step closer and rise to your tiptoes, kissing his cheek. “Here’s my number, I keep some business cards in my pocket.” You hand him your card and Spencer runs his thumb over the embossed logo. 

“I’ll call you.” Spencer tells you with a bright smile, one that causes butterflies to swarm in your stomach as you walk to your car door. “Drive safe, Y/n.” 

“Take care Doctor,” You salute to Spencer before you close your door, driving off out of sight as a squeal escapes your lips in excitement at the thought of Spencer calling you.

Except, what you missed as you turned the corner was Spencer getting a phone call that would change everything for the worse, leaving you in the dark as Spencer answers his phone with his full heart now sinking. 

He’s heading to Mexico.

PART TWO

[cacoetheswriting]

champagne problems, ch.13

Chapter Thirteen: Happiness is a butterfly: An impromptu “bachelorette” leads to more than you expected. A/N: chapter is titled after this song if you want to listen while reading. Word Count: 1.7k Warnings: swearing, brief talk of heartbreak & breakup/s, alcohol consumption, intoxication, angst, and finally a bit of fluff !!

series masterlist

A/N: i can’t believe after this chapter, there is only two left!! from the bottom of my heart, thank you to everyone that’s been reading / liking / commenting / reblogging - it genuinely means the world to me!

-

Loud chatter mixed with drunken laughter carried through the bar, creating the perfect Saturday night atmosphere. The various raucous discussions were accompanied by old jukebox melodies, fighting a battle of who can make more noise - man or machine.

The space carried a stench of sweat, cigarette smoke and spilled drink. While listening to Penelope’s incoherent ramblings, you took a mental note of needing to throw the clothes you were currently wearing into the wash the second you got home. If you were sober enough to do so, that is.

“Okay, okay-” Emily began, still laughing at whatever it was Penelope had just said. “Personally, I think a more important question is who wants another drink?” She glanced between the group of girls who all lifted their empty glasses into the air, cheering loudly.

It was a pretty unanimous decision to still throw you a bachelorette party. The BAU ladies wanted a night out and you were happy to provide them with an excuse - primarily because the months have quickly passed into May and you figured it was finally time to stop wallowing in self-pity.

Penelope invested in a fake engagement ring; “No-one will know the difference and this way we can get free drinks.”. She also arrived with a bag of typical bachelorette knickknacks from the dollar store, plastic tiaras, and bright pink sashays - a ‘BRIDE’ one for you, ‘MAID OF HONOUR’ for herself, and ‘BRIDESMAID’ for the remaining ladies.

When the night started you honestly felt quite silly celebrating something that was no longer happening. You felt like a fraud. Fooling all of these people into thinking you were happy and about to embark on the best journey of your life, when the reality couldn't have been more different.

You were utterly alone and pathetically in love with someone who, you were convinced, didn't love you back.

Penelope volunteered to help Emily with getting the drinks while Tara took the time to go and freshen up in the bathroom.

“Sooo... are you still thinking about leaving the bureau?” JJ asked, sliding into the now empty spot beside you. She placed an elbow on the table to prop her head up as she waited for you to answer.

Her question caught you off guard. Taking the last sip of your current margarita, you furrowed your brows together. “What? I don’t even... what?” 

JJ didn't answer. Instead, she let out a relieved laugh. “I knew Spence was playing with me. And I told him, I told him there was no way, absolutely no wayyy you would ever leave, or even consider leaving.”

“Spencer?” You probed, hopping to make some sense of what she ways saying.

JJ nodded her head, her hand clearly struggling to hold it up. “He came by, gosh... this was shortly after your breakup with Ethan? And he let lit slip that the surgeon had come by his place and told him you were leaving the BAU...” Her voice faded out when she noticed the perplexed look on your face. Even in her inebriated state she could tell you had no idea Ethan and Spencer ever spoke alone. 

“Shit, did I say something wrong?”

“No, I-I... I don't think so? I’m just... confused.” And as the words escaped your lips, a sudden urge overcame you. If it wasn't for the alcohol cursing through your veins right now, perhaps you would have left it alone. Perhaps the feeling would have passed. Instead, however, you sprung up on your feet and hastily grabbed your handbag.

“I have to go.”

JJ immediately sat up. “Go? Go where?”

But you didn’t want to get into it now. No, you had much more pressing matters at hand - at least your drunken mind thought so. You decided to leave the explaining to Penelope and Tara, who reappeared at the table with Emily and a new set of cocktails. You shot them both a knowing look, and before either of them got a chance to protest, you hurried in the direction of the exit.

The ride to your destination was a blur - partially due to your heavy intoxication, and partially due to the adrenaline you were now experiencing. You weren't even sure how you managed to hail a taxi or how the driver understood the address through your muddled breaths. You were simply glad they did.

Your whole body was shaking. You still weren't entirely sure whether what you were doing was a good idea, but it seemed like there was no other option as JJ’s words rang in your ears - “... the surgeon had come by his place and told him you were leaving the BAU...”. What did she mean by that? When did this conversation even happen? You had so many questions circling your brain, you could only hope they'd get answered once you arrived where you were heading.

Once the car stopped and you paid your fair, you managed to exit the vehicle in one piece and stumble, fairly elegantly, to the front door of the apartment block. The stairs proved to be the real enemy of the night as your legs failed to coordinate with the wooden steps. But once you reached your goal, the struggle of getting here didn't seem as important anymore.

With your hand formed into a lousy fist, you knocked and knocked and knocked until the door swung open.

“When was Ethan here?” You asked, not willing to waste any more time.

Spencer stared at you completely dumbfounded. He blinked, unsure at first whether you were really here or if his mind was playing tricks. Truthfully, he’s imagined this happening many times in the last few months - you finding out the truth behind that night. Especially with the context of your voicemail still lingering in the air every time he saw you.

“Fuck.” You breathed, one hand rockily landing on Spencer’s chest. He instantly reached to grab you and hold safely you up in position. Completely unfazed by your sudden closeness, with your free hand, you brought your knee to your back and you loosened the strap of your heel.

Spencer watched you silently, the overpowering whiff of your perfume mixed with alcohol hitting him like a brick. He quickly took note of the plastic tiara in your hair and the sash wrapped around your rather loose outfit. All that went through his head in that moment was how happy he was you got here safe and sound.

“Do you need me to drive you home? Or, ehm, or call you a cab?” Spencer raised a brow as you regained your wobbly stance, your hand still clinging to his sweatshirt as if it was your only lifeline. Which judging by your... condition, it surely was.

You scoffed, unintentionally blowing your loose strands of your hair away from your face. “Don’t be a jerk, don’t call me a taxi.”

The handsome doctor smirked. “A jerk?”

You nodded. “And do not think for a ss-second, you’re getting away with answering my question.”

“I had a feeling you would say that.”

Spencer carefully led you inside the confide of his apartment. With one arm wrapped tightly around your waist, he closed the door behind and guided you toward the couch. You plopped down with a gentle bounce and he couldn't help but chuckle.

“Let me get you some water.” He offered, but you grabbed his arm and using all of the strength you could muster, you pulled him down next to you.

“Answer my question first.” You mumbled while placing your hands on his cheeks and gaping into his hazel eyes. Gosh, he had such pretty eyes.

Spencer swallowed before licking his lips. Your proximity should be making him nervous, but he felt nothing of the sort. Instead, he found himself shuffling in closer.

“Please, Spencer... I need to know.” The plea was gratuitous because deep down you already knew the answer. You just needed him to confirm your suspicions.

As the tears started to form in your eyes, the brunette doctor sighed deeply. Now was his only chance to set the record straight. He might not get another one, in fact he knew if he let you leave tonight without telling you what really happened he'd lose you permanently. Even as a friend.

Now or never, he thought, then proceed to explain.

And you listened. You listened patiently and attentively, letting the waterfall of tears escape and trail mascara down your face. His words were slowly sobering you up. Everything was starting to become clear once again.

Spencer always loved you. He never stopped loving you. He never wanted to end things, he simply did what he thought was the right thing to do. The right thing for you because your happiness was more important to him than his own. He still loved you. He loved you.

By the time Spencer was finished, the alcohol had completely faded from your system. Your arms instantly draped around his neck, and you fell into his comforting embrace. Attaching yourself like a magnet. His hand landed at the back of your head, fingers tangling in your hair. Basking in your warmth. He whispered apologies into your ear, repeating over and over again that he will never let you go again.

You believed him.

When you finally pulled away, the tears had stopped falling. Using his thumb, Spencer gently wiped the lone droplets that remained on your face. There were so many things he wanted to tell you, so many things he wanted to do with you, but at least now he knew he didn't have to rush. The chase was over.

His fingertips traced along your jawline before settling on your chin. The two of you gazed into each other’s eyes, because in this moment you were the only people to exist. The only people to matter.

“Can I kiss you?”

A smile circled your features. “As if you have to ask.”

His mouth brushed against yours with tenderness and care. You melted into him completely, glad he was taking his time because the first touch of his lips on your sent a jolt down your spine. One hand slid from your chin up your cheek, cupping your face, while his other hand graciously moved up and down your arm.

Your lips parted from shocking overwhelming sensation in your body. You hadn't realised just how much you missed his touch, not until his hand traveled from your arm to your neck. His fingertips brushing across, not quite landing in any particular place, as his tongue eagerly slid into your mouth.

Conveyed in his kiss were over a million loving thoughts and conversations previously left unspoken. The pent up tension, built up over the occurrences of these last few months, suddenly exploded. In the moment, in this kiss, you were both your pure selves.

He was yours, and you were his.

Forever.

Do you want me or do you not? I heard one thing, now I'm hearing another

-

A/N: as always i’d love to hear your feedback! if you would like to be added to a taglist, please let me know. thank you for your continuous support. with love, mal. x

masterlist | series masterlist | series playlist

story taglist: @girloncorneliastreet, @haylaansmi, @rexorangecouny, @l0ve-0f-my-life, @obsssedwithjustaboutanything, @aperrywilliams, @sassy-hades, @rainsong01, @reverdevivre, @dracomikaelson, @softieekayy, @lunaofcrows, @andrewhoezierbyrne​, @blameitonthenight21, @lyl-26, @do-yr-research, @nazifa94, @stepsofthefbi, @chatterbug2-0, @calm-and-doctor, @halseysunset, @ellesgreenaway, @chipot-lol​

tags not working: @radtwinkie

[ms-demeanor]

You are the one who reblogged a post with a bunch of resources about treating wounds and foraging and using a rifle. You, other anarchists, are where I’m getting the sense of the “life” I’m supposed to look forward to. Not movies.

You know how I know you’re not talking about me?

Because I’m actually really, really fucking cautious about not reblogging information about foraging because I literally know someone who poisoned his dumb ass foraging and died and I would not share that kind of resource with someone who I’m not 100% sure is excellent at woodcraft and has a shitload of outdoor experience. I actually pretty stridently recommend that you DON’T learn how to forage from online resources.

Juuuuuust in case I double checked my blog back through august.

What are you talking about? No forage resources or rifle resources here, at least not for the last 22 days. The one wound treatment thing I’ve reblogged this month is a link to CERT classes, which are community emergency response classes.

I don’t make a secret of the fact that I am pro gun ownership but I also don’t make a secret of the fact that I think if people are pro gun they also need to be pro gun safety education - there are way too many firearms in the US for us to *not* teach kids how to handle them safely. But I sure do NOT talk about having gun battles on this blog because I think that’s glorifying a fantasy version of a fast, easy revolution that I don’t believe in.

(however, as always, if you’re in my general area, don’t know how to use guns, and would like to learn I am available to teach you the basics, as much as social distancing and global pandemics allow anyway)

But. Also.

Buddy, let’s pretend it’s four years ago, or nine years ago, or twenty years ago. Let’s pretend that whatever party is in office doesn’t matter and is totally unrelated to everything.

Have you ever lived through a large earthquake?

A tornado?

A hurricane?

Sometimes infrastructure fails and knowing how to treat wounds is a very, very, very good idea.

Everyone should take a first aid class. I think first aid classes should be a requirement for graduating high school. I first got CPR certified with my girl scout troop when I was 12 and my mom took me to a mobile morgue class when I was 7 because my mom was the department safety coordinator for the DWP in Los Angeles and she was in charge of earthquake drills and first aid training and disaster preparedness and the Northridge quake had just happened.

I grew up taking first aid incredibly seriously, reading “Hatchet,” and my idea of fun is getting a vehicle stuck in an inland sea or going backpacking and encountering a bear. Learning woundcare and treatment for heatstroke and hypothermia is. Like. It’s a pretty big part of making sure I’m doing stupid bullshit as safely as possible.

Also, yeah, I’ve totally superglued my finger closed and used fishing finger wraps to seal a cut and used coffee stir sticks and electrical tape to make finger splint. Even with insurance it still costs me a couple hundred dollars to go to the ER or several hours to go to an urgent care, and that’s when I’ve HAD insurance. Knowing how to safely treat non-life-threatening injuries is just something you should know how to do if you’re broke in America; I’m lucky that I can afford to go to the ER now; that has not always been the case for me.

You ever hung out with really drunk friends? Do you know how to check eye tracking? Do you know how to put someone in the recovery position?

You ever had a friend get clocked with a boot in the pit? Do you know how to check pupil dilation to see if you need to get to a hospital ASAP?

Buddy, you don’t have to be worried about the end of the world to want to get prepared to handle an injury while camping and you don’t have to be an anarchist to think it’s a good idea to know how to treat heatstroke.

ANYWAY there’s this flaw in the human brain called negativity bias, which is where we remember negative, scary stuff more than we remember good, positive stuff.

I’m generally a pretty positive blogger, the resource lists I reblog tend to be things like “here are mutual aid groups” and “learn how to be a hacker” and “here’s how to support people who lose access to abortion.” If you’re getting primarily negativity out of the stuff that I’m reblogging I believe you’re missing the forest for the trees, bud.

The way to handle and cope with negativity bias is to be aware of it! If you’re sitting there going “everything is terrible!” ask yourself “is everything actually really terrible or am I only remembering terrible things?”

2020 is actually a fucking FANTASTIC example of that because there has been a lot of bad shit going on but there have also been really great examples of humans helping each other and people working to take care of each other and apparently Venus might have aliens and that’s just really fucking cool. There is a BUNCH of negative shit out there and we do hear about it all the time but don’t let that bury the positive shit.

You know what I want people to take away from that resource post? That you can and should protect your community from speed traps by reporting cops on traffic apps, and that by reporting cops on traffic apps you are doing a tangibly good thing to prevent marginalized groups from being targeted by police.

That’s a real, simple, easy thing that you can do to actually help people - speed traps don’t work if people don’t know about them and it’s why cops have tried to make it illegal for drivers to warn each other about them.

The idea that the government of the United States is going to collapse tomorrow and things will devolve into gun battles in the streets and foraging to keep from starving seems fairly farfetched but even if that does happen you know that mutual aid helped people survive the great depression, right?

And I don’t want to do the “you should feel #blessed that you’re better off than those people in POOR, UNDEVELOPED countries” thing but people get up and live their lives every day in conditions that require them to forage and navigate violent areas.

It’s shitty that people have to live like that, I wish they didn’t have to and I don’t want more people to have to live in extreme poverty in places that are violent, but it seems kind of. I don’t know. Arrogant? To decide you’re better than that so you might as well lay down and die.

“What do I have to look forward to” - buddy, the world doesn’t owe you a happy ending. You have the rest of your life to look forward to. You have friendships and laughter and cool projects and the people you’ll help someday and the people who will help you someday and sunsets and ripe fruit and meteor showers to look forward to.

Nearly everywhere in the world, through all of history, even peasants danced.

You’ve got the world to look forward to.

And if everything does go to hell in a handbasket and there are gun battles in the streets and you’re trying to make sure you’re gathering morels and not deathcaps then you’ve STILL got the world to look forward to and how you go into it is going to be up to you no matter how a fucking election turns out.

[jaeminzie]

worth it | l.dh

↳ lee haechan x gender nuetral!reader

synopsis: having a turtoring session with fratboy!hyuck that you were bribed into turned into a cuddle session, but he definitely didn’t mind at all

genre: fluffff

word count: 2,123

you rubbed your head in frustration as the memory kept replaying in your head, making you regret your past decision. earlier in the day, lee donghyuck was practically begging you to tutor him for his upcoming exam. you were so set on saying ‘no’ because you very much disliked the guy but he began to wave fifty dollars in your face. and you, a broke college student, completely forgot about all the unfavorable feelings towards the boy and gave in.

but as hours passed by, you began to reconsider if spending time with donghyuck was worth fifty dollars. maybe if it were doubled then you wouldn’t be second-guessing your past decision. you looked at your phone to check the time, just to see if it was too late to back out now. and unfortunately for you, it was.

you let out a loud groan in the middle of the student café lounge area that you and your best friend, renjun, were relaxing in. “nice to see you doing well, y/n.” renjun took a pause from drawing on his sketchbook and looked up smiling mockingly at you to which you didn’t respond to in any way shape or form. the smile dropped and a wave of annoyance took over his facial expressions. “okay, what is it. are you hungry? you should’ve just aske-”

“i’m not always hungry.” you rolled your eyes at him and lowered yourself in your seat. “it’s donghyuck-”

“oh god. then whatever it is, that obnoxiously loud groan was valid.” he groaned with you. renjun never had a good impression on donghyuck because he didn’t brake his car for renjun when he was trying to walk across the pedestrian crosswalk, and donghyuck never said sorry nor look apologetic. instead, he just gave renjun trauma. he’s the reason why renjun always wait ten seconds minimum before crossing the street. although it gets annoying, his lost face before crossing reminds you of a cute kitten which makes up for the long wait. “what did he do this time?”

“he’s paying me to tutor him at his frat.” his face was evident in disgust and empathy. “i’m regretting saying yes because i’m too exhausted to deal with him.” you whined and put your face in your hands, rubbing it harshly in an attempt to wake yourself up.

“y/n, you are so strong.” he grabbed your hand away from your face and rubbed your hand awkwardly as he looked at you with apologetic eyes. “no but seriously, text me when he starts acting up. i’ll have jaemin with me for backup because i mean.” he lifted up his arms and tried to flex his arm muscles. key word: tried. “you know.”

you let out a chuckle, closed your eyes, and let your head fall back. “i’ll definitely be live texting you whenever he says and does something stupid.”

“so basically, what you’re saying is that you’ll be texting me every second. might as well have me on facetime.” 

you looked back at your best friend who was showing a toothy grin. “basically.” you checked your phone again and saw that if you didn’t leave now then you’d be late to the session. “fuck, i gotta get going. please wish me luck.” you lazily got up, got your bag and stood still in front of renjun with a face that was screaming ‘help me.’

“c’mon at least you’re getting paid, right?”

“you’re right, i need to stop being such a child.” you sighed and tried to erase every negative thought and feeling inside of you.

“kick his ass if he acts up though.” he raised an eyebrow at you.

you scoffed, “of course of course.” you sighed once again and pet renjun’s hair as you walked emotionless out of the student café and made your way to the bus stop.

donghyuck’s fraternity was only a couple blocks away and it honestly wouldn’t take long to walk there but you were too tired to even try.

the commute was quick but you wish it wasn’t. there you were, standing outside the door of regret. the outside was fairly clean but you knew that the inside would be a completely different story. you knocked a few times on the white door before a smiling donghyuck greeted you. “oh wow, you actually came.”

you fought back the urge to roll your eyes. “you’re welcome.” you both stood there awkwardly while he stared you down and you tried avoiding eye contact.

“oh sorry, come in.” he turned his body to make way for yours to enter his place. “i made sure we’re alone because it’s usually loud when the others are here. they’ll be back in a couple hours, though.” he scratched his neck and yawned while you examined the place. you were right, the inside was messy but to your surprise, it wasn’t too bad.

“yeah sounds good. it shouldn’t take too long” you turned to face him and gawked at his appearance. okay there’s no denying donghyuck is pretty decent looking, but he looks extra good today. he stood there awkwardly with his hands rested in the pockets of his oversized black jacket. his hair was slightly ruffled up, you can tell he just woke up from a nap. “you really thought i’d flake on you?” you raised an eyebrow.

his eyes wondered your facial features and marks. “i mean, you kinda hate me so.”

“i don’t hate you.” you corrected him. you may have a strong disfavor of him but you don’t hate him.

he smirked, his body seemed to relax a lot more. “then, let’s get started.” he walked past me and lead the way up the spiral staircase and into his room, which was surprisingly clean and well decorated with a tidy computer gaming set at the corner.

you set your bag right by the bed which you sat on. “so specifically, what are you struggling on?” you asked him looking at his figure that was leaned against his dresser a couple feet across from you.

“uh everything?” he let out a shy laugh and crossed his arms in front of him.

you decided not to scold him for always partying because truth is, you don’t know anything that’s going on in his life so you swallowed the upcoming insults that were climbing up your throat. “oh, well, we should get started asap then so we don’t finish too late.” you cleared your throat.

his eyes widened in surprise like he was expecting your usual witty remarks that he secretly loved, but you weren’t aware of his fondness for your attitude. “yeah for sure, let me get my stuff.” he hurriedly gathered his materials and set them on the bed next to me since he didn’t have a desk in his room. well, he did have his computer desk but there was definitely no room for books there.

he climbed on the bed and rested on his stomach and flipped the pages of the textbook, trying to find the first section he needed assistance on.

you kicked off your shoes and laid down next to him, but keeping your distance from him. he smirked slightly while still keeping his focus on the page. “you can scoot closer so you can see the book clearer.” he looked at you with innocent eyes.

in instinct, you rolled your eyes and scooted a bit closer to him. close enough to smell his cologne and close enough to see his moles randomly placed on his face and neck clearly. you took your attention away from his face when he suddenly made eye contact with you, catching you off-guard. 

his warm, soft bedsheets did no help in keeping you awake. you tried to focus on the words he was spitting out but every word entered one ear and went out the other as your eyelids began to feel heavier, and your vision slowly began to black out.

—

“dude what the fuck happened?” an unfamiliar whisper woke you up from your sleep but you ignored it, just trying to go back to your dreamland.

until you felt something absurd, someone’s warm embrace wrapped around you, your head was now resting on a pillow and an arm, and your cheek was rubbing against a wet patch of what you assumed was your drool on a white t-shirt fabric. “bro shut the fuck up, you’re gonna wake y/n up.” now, that was a familiar whisper to you. your heartbeat raced faster and faster as you made the conclusion that you were cuddling with the lee donghyuck. you internally groaned knowing that renjun will never shut up about this once you tell him. this will be his winning comeback for your future arguments. i mean, you could not tell him but what kind of best friend would you be if you didn’t inform him of the time you magically started cuddling with a man you disliked—but still enjoyed it.

“you better tell me everything later.” the whisper was a lot harsher than the first one, then silence followed after the unknown boy closed the door. you assumed he was gone but you waited to lift your head up to make it not obvious that you were awake to listen to their conversation.

“i know you’re awake.” donghyuck laughed above you, his chest rumbled against your cheek. “you stopped snoring a while ago.”

you groaned in annoyance and also in embarrassment. you slowly lifted your head up to look up at him and you were not ready to see the sight of him looking down at you with a soft smile and even messier hair, causing your heart to skip a beat. both your arms were still wrapped around each other, leaving no space between you both. “what the fuck.” you blurted out, not knowing what else to say.

donghyuck’s tired smile widened. “i should be the one asking you that. sweetheart, you’re the one who cuddled up to me first.” he enjoyed watching your face flush red in embarrassment, anger, and also by the way he looked at you so attentively. “you know, its quite rude.” he tightened his grip around you. “i’m supposed to be paying for a tutoring lesson.” he pursed his lips and furrowed his eyebrows, not breaking eye contact with you.

you remained looking at him with shaky eyes, not believing the situation you were in. your mouth opened, then it closed, then it opened to say something but donghyuck cut you off. “but this is so much better, my money well spent.” he sighed contently and closed his eyes, rubbing his cheek against the top of your head.

you could’ve protested or done anything to get out of his grip but your body stayed the way it is. “i didn’t even get to teach you one lesson, i’m sorry.” you were sincere with your apology, you wasted his time and now he’s probably gonna fail his exam if you two keep cuddling.

“i don’t care about that. i prefer this much more.” his eyes were still closed. you continued to admire his face and tried to memorize every single detail and placement of each mark. “hmmm, why don’t you take a picture?” he hummed, still keeping his eyes closed.

your hands made their way up his ear and pinched it. he let out a whine and finally opened his eyes which immediately landed directly on yours. “quit it.” you warned him.

“as you wish, darling.” his voice became lower and it almost sounded like a whisper. a soft smirk appeared on his face and his eyes were sparkling under the moonlight that shined through his window. “i love talking to you but i think i finally found something i love even more—sleeping with you.”

you opened your mouth to say something but his finger pressed against your lips to keep you quiet. he shushes you softly while he shuffled slightly to find a comfortable position, still keeping his embrace secure around you and his eyelids began to slowly drop. you admired his face once more before closing your eyes as well.

the question you asked yourself earlier today lingered in your mind before drifting off to your sleep again. is spending time with donghyuck worth fifty dollars? considering how warm he felt against you, and how you loved to hear his breathing and soft snores above you, and how perfect your body naturally molded into his embrace. you could finally answer the question confidently, yes.

[jetaime-jespere]

Prompt #15

#15: Don’t Tempt Me

Smut.

A special thank you to @sweetsecretskeptinside for the inspo pic (and the 3:30 AM conversation that led to this little thing)

In 7.21, Emily says, No, I don't have a fear of owning stuff. Turn me loose in a shoe store, I'll prove that. So, we know she loves a good pair of shoes. Well, what would happen if Emily were in fact turned loose in a shoe store, only to come home to a curious Aaron?

Aaron is about three quarters of the way through a basketball game on TV when he hears the door open, announcing her arrival. “I’m back,” Emily calls through the narrow hallway, keys jingling from her wrist as she closes the door behind her. “Aaron? Where are you?”

He hears the thump of her shoes coming off, the soft swish of her jacket being hung up. He smiles, because even though it’s only been a few hours, he’s much happier now that she’s back. “In here,” he calls over the hum of the game as he finishes the last of the beer on the end table. “Watching the game.” Not that he actually cares too much - but there isn’t much else on at the moment, and it’s been just a little too quiet.

“Someone had a busy day,” Emily says in jest when she takes in the sight of him sprawled across the couch, while taking note of the spotless living room with appreciation. All the toys normally strewn about are cleaned up and tucked away, blankets neatly folded on the back of the couch. There’s a bag dangling from each of her slender wrists - two long white handles, brown and nondescript, with elegant white lettering across the side. Emily sets both down next to the couch, coming up next to him and looping her arms around his neck. “Hi,” she murmurs, kissing the sharp ridge of his jaw. “I’m sorry I’m so late getting back. Traffic outside McLean was awful.”

“That’s Northern Virginia at rush hour for you,” He quips, looking slightly amused, because she was supposed to be home almost an hour ago. “Did you have fun shopping at least?”

“Yeah,” she says casually, settling on the couch beside him, draping her legs over his lap. “It was crowded though. You’d think it was a holiday.”

“Get anything good?” Aaron massages her ankles, trying to appear interested in whatever she’d purchased. She’d gone out with JJ and Penelope a few hours before, giving him a few hours to run some desperately needed errands. There’s hardly any food in his fridge - they’ve been slammed with cases one right after the other for the last two weeks - and his place was in dire need of a cleaning. With Jack at a friend’s house for the afternoon it was perfect timing, but he’s expected back home at any time. There are dinner plans to figure out; Aaron promised his son the three of them would watch a movie, one that Jack gets to pick.

“You could say so,” Emily says coyly, reaching for the magazine in his hands. She flips through a few pages, even if her attention isn’t on it at all. Instead, Aaron feels her stare from across the couch, the subtle shift of the weight of her legs in his lap. The smile on her face and the lift of her eyebrows tells him she wants him to ask just what she got.

He relents, because her insistence has his interest piqued, and he wonders just what could be so fascinating about a standard day of shopping with JJ and Penelope. It’s something they do fairly often, sometimes coupled with drinks and dinner, or sometimes with brunch. Those trips usually end with her slightly tipsy, something he finds endearingly adorable. And while he still isn’t completely comfortable with the fact this his name most definitely comes up more than once, he looks past it now. “What did you get?”

“Some shoes.” Emily says casually, with a slight shrug. “I didn’t see much else.” But she’s reaching for the bags on the floor, the brown paper crinkling under her fingers. “Want to see? You think you can tear yourself away from the TV for a few minutes?”

There are two boxes in Emily’s lap. Both are brown, matching the bag, with the same logo embossed in the middle. Each box is wrapped with a red ribbon on the ends, and he frowns, thinking the whole presentation is a little … ostentatious.

But she’s already undoing the ribbons, popping the lids off the boxes. The first box contains a pair of high heels, black, with high sharp heels and an unnatural looking arch. They look ridiculously uncomfortable, yet something tells him she’d pull them off without question. The other pair are even less than practical - a pair of slingbacks with bows on the back, with even higher heels. They look like the kind of shoes that could break an ankle. And yet she’s watching him intently, gauging his reaction with an expression that he might label as pleased.

Where the hell would she ever wear those? His mind starts to wander with possibilities, and it dawns on him they’re not supposed to be practical. They’re fuck me shoes.  “Are they supposed to …” Aaron blinks with confusion as he studies the ridiculously impractical pairs of shoes, nestled in wrapping paper, both with red painted soles. “Are the bottoms supposed to be red?”

Emily laughs lightly, and Aaron can’t help but wonder if this is one of those things he’s just somehow supposed to magically know - not that he knows remotely anything about womens’ fashion. Haley’s taste in clothes had always been relatively practical, and given their line of work, he can count on one hand the number of times he’s seen Emily actually dressed up, much to his chagrin. “It’s the designer’s trademark, Aaron.”

He narrows his eyes with confusion. “Red soles?”

“Mmhm.”

“But no one sees the soles of your shoes,” he points out logically. “Besides, don’t you have a few other ones that look just like this?” He isn’t quite sure he sees the need for multiple pairs of black high heels that basically all look the same, even though the more he stares at the shoes, the more he can’t help but think about what she’d look like wearing these particular pairs.

“So? Emily looks very pleased with herself. “They’re an investment piece, Aaron. Christian Louboutin is timeless and classic.”

“Christian Lou - what?” He completely butchers the word Louboutin, struggling with the French pronunciation that seems to roll off her tongue so easily. Emily laughs softly, patiently pronouncing the word again, and then again. Something about hearing her speak French makes his mouth go dry, and he swallows thickly as she neatly wraps the shoes back up in the boxes.

Something else catches his eye - the pricetag - and he makes a conscious effort to keep his jaw firmly closed. “Emily,” he says evenly, even though he’s certain he’s seeing an extra zero he shouldn’t. “Tell me those shoes were not seven hundred dollars.” He pinches the bridge of his nose with disbelief, a slight shake of his head. “You bought two pairs.”

“Actually,” she says with an air of indifference. “The ones with the bows were seven hundred. The others were on sale for six.”

“Six hundred dollars for a pair of shoes?” He sounds incredulous, probably because he is. He’s no stranger to the fact that Emily was raised with an abundance of wealth and with that, probably comes some appreciation for the finer things. And not that he cares one bit about how she spends her money, but the thought just seems completely absurd to him.

“You know,” she begins slowly, batting her eyelashes with a mere shake of her head. “I’m sure you’d appreciate them more if you saw them on me.” And then her fingers drop to her shirt, beginning to undo the top button, then the next. “What do you think?”

It’s his turn to smirk, the slightest lick of his lips with his tongue as he meets her gaze with a look in his eyes that matches her own. “What are you  -”

“Daddy?” The excited voice coming from the foyer tears them out of the moment completely, and Emily practically bolts off the couch in surprise, as if they’ve been caught doing something they shouldn’t. Shit. She hurriedly buttons her shirt, taking a few precautionary steps away from Aaron out of habit. Jack is still hanging up his coat, chattering animatedly about his afternoon, running through a rather long list of potential movie options. Aaron gets up from the couch, pecking Emily on the cheek with a slightly apologetic look. “Next time?”

“Next time,” she agrees, practically purrs in his ear, pressing her body up against his. She stands on tiptoe to kiss his cheek, letting her teeth scrape against his earlobe as she disappears with the boxes in her hands, putting an extra sway in her hips along the way.

…

“Not here,” Aaron tells her for the third time, this time more firmly. They’re milking drinks at a roundtop table in the middle of an ALS Benefit a few days later. They’re there for Dave, like every year, and for some reason, he’s just not feeling it tonight. It’s warm in the room, he doesn’t feel like dancing, and not to mention, Emily has been goading him since they arrived.

“Come on,” Emily coaxes him with a wink from across the table, a glass of red wine in her hand. “You’re no fun, you know.”

“In case you haven’t noticed, our colleagues happen to be in or around the vicinity of this room.” Aaron takes a sip of his drink, this time downing most of the glass. The drinks are a little too strong, the music is a little too loud, and he’s already having trouble concentrating on anything, thanks to the fact that Emily has stayed within his line of sight almost all evening. It’s intentional, that much he knows. The rest of the team has dissipated, spread out amongst the crowd, mingling with the other guests. He knows they should probably do the same. After this drink, he tells himself.

“But I’m wearing the shoes.” It’s the way she says it, locking her eyes with his. But he already knows - he’d noticed as they walked into the hotel two hours before.

“Don’t tempt me,” he hisses just a little more forcefully, wishing he had a fresh drink to occupy his hands. “We’ve got another two hours at this thing.” He’s doing his damn best to keep his eyes forward instead of staring at her, but that’s getting harder. She’d decided on the black dress after a careful deliberation, showing him the various options she’d pulled from the depths of her closet. They’d barely made it out the door on time.

“There’s plenty of open rooms,” she tries again. “Nobody will notice we’re gone.” As if to prove her point, Emily tips her head in the direction of the band, where Strauss and Dave are all but tearing up the dance floor. “Look at them.”

Aaron nods, stifling a laugh in his fist. “Sometimes I still can’t believe they’re together.”

“It’s been going on for years,” Emily snickers. “Dave used to think he was subtle about it. He wasn’t. But good for him.” She tips her head back, exposing the side of her neck. Something inside of him snaps, his mind made up, because before he can stop himself, he’s wrapping his hand around her elbow, giving her a gentle shove through the crowd of people.

“Aaron, what are you -”

“Let’s go,” he growls in her ear, pressing a hand into the small of her back to lead her closer to the door. It’s risky at best and a bad idea at the worst, but what the hell? He thinks, leaning forward to get a trace of her perfume on the back of her neck.

Emily grins to herself, her eyes locked on the door just ahead of them, and she’s grateful for the dimmed lights in the ballroom - no one will even notice they’re gone. The hallway is hushed quiet compared to the booming of the music on the other side of the door, and they stare at each other for a brief moment. “Here,” he says, taking her hand. There are multiple closed doors that lead to empty conference rooms; Aaron leads her to the one at the far end of the hall.

“I thought I wasn’t supposed to tempt you.” Emily flutters her eyelashes, her fingers lingering on his face as she slips past him through the doors. This is a bad idea, they both think, not for the first time, and yet, neither of them are about to put an end to it.

“Too late.” Aaron closes the door and adds the lock for good measure, spinning on his heel to face her. Emily licks her lips, backs up until her back is against the wall, all but cornering herself as he nearly rips his own suit jacket off, throwing it against the table. He’s eying her almost ferally, staring at her legs and the damn shoes. His jaw is set in determination as he moves toward her. “I’m going to take you apart.”

Damn, Emily thinks, her eyes widening as Aaron gets a hand around her waist, pulling her into him. He bypasses her mouth entirely, going right for her neck. She gasps as his teeth drag over her skin, his hands impatient as he goes for the zipper at the back of her dress.

“Don’t rip it,” she breathes, arching her back as his fingers dance down her spine, pulling the little metal tab down to the small of her back. “It was expen-”

“Shhh.” He covers her lips with his own, smiling a little when she moans into his mouth,  her body bowing into his. Aaron gets his hands around her hips, walks them back and around until he can lean her against the large credenza in the corner, pulling the dress down over her shoulders. Her breath hitches as the cool air hits her skin; it pebbles as his hands slide around to work the clasp; it snaps free in one go.

“I’m impressed,” Emily drawls with a grin as it falls away.

“This isn’t my first rodeo, you know.” He leans her back even further, going with her as her back hits the top of the table. He takes one breast in his mouth, alternating the pressure of his mouth until she keens into the air, her hands pulling at the fabric of his expensive dress shirt. Emily gets a hand in his hair, urging him to keep going. He switches to the other breast, repeating the same pattern with his mouth. “You’re perfect,” he breathes, cupping his hands around her jaw when he stands straight to kiss her again. “So perfect.”

Emily smiles, already starting to work the buttons of his dress shirt. “There’s lipstick on this,” she murmurs, finding the imprints of her lips on the collar. “I guess we weren’t very subtle earlier.”

“I don’t care.” He gets the shirt off his shoulders, then lifts her up just enough to get the dress past her hips and over her head. She’s left in nothing but those damn shoes that make her legs look endless, and some impractical, lacy underwear that matches the bra that’s now discarded on the floor. He stands back to look at her, an equal mix of adoration and lust. It takes little effort to lift her up, setting her on the top of the credenza, coming to stand between her legs. He runs his hands over her thighs, down her calves, closing around her ankles, admiring her, smirking when he sees the shoes again. Emily rests on her elbows, watching as he kisses the insides of her knees, her stomach quivering with effort to remain semi-upright.

“The shoes,” he says as he props her legs on his shoulders, watching her for a few moments. “Stay on.”

All she can do is nod, her heart fluttering in her chest as he tugs on either side of the lace at her hips, dragging it down over her legs. On the pile it goes, and when she’s finally completely bare before him save for a ridiculously expensive pair of high heels, her legs bent around his shoulders, does she seemingly realize where they are, her eyes sparkling. “If anyone hears us,” Emily breathes, “I’m blaming you.”

“Then keep quiet,” he says with a wink, spreading her thighs even further open with his shoulders. He kisses each thigh, taking his time to build her up until Emily presses the spikes of her heels into his shoulders. He only smiles against her, one long, slow lick of his tongue follows a moment later. Emily whines as he drags her closer to his mouth.

“Hurry up,” she pants with anticipation, and as if on cue, he touches his lips to her clit just enough to make her back arch and her eyes fall shut. “Fuck,” she groans, tugging at his hair with both hands, and when his tongue becomes an insistent pulsing rhythm, Emily lets out a loud whimper, one that reverberates through the conference room. Aaron pushes her over once; she comes against his mouth hard, her legs shaking on his shoulders as the heels nearly pierce his skin. He rears back, encircling her ankles with gentle fingers, staring down at her.

“So much for keeping quiet, Sweetheart.” He’s taunting her, loosening his hold on one ankle as he pulls at his belt. Emily’ head rolls back against the table, biting her lip when his pants are added to the pile. He palms himself in his hand, lining himself up with her as Emily wraps her legs around his waist. Aaron smiles when he feels the spikes of her heels dig into his lower back; he kisses her in tandem with the initial thrust inside of her. Emily whimpers into his mouth, bringing a hand to grip his shoulder for leverage as he pushes all the way in one smooth press of his hips.

“Oh fuck,” she whines, and he runs a finger over her lips to remind her of volume. She’s making these little noises, clenching around him, tilting her hips forward to meet his shallow thrusts. “Harder.” She tightens her legs around his back, bringing him impossibly close, and he’s more than happy to appease her. And he does, driving into her deliberately and forcefully as she hums in pleasure around him. Her nails scrape down his back, he winds an arm around her waist to keep her steady as those damn shoes remind him of how tightly her legs are locked around his hips.

Jesus Christ. “Emily.” Each drive of his hips sends the table into the wall. “Come for me.” He gets a hand between them, swipes his thumb over her clit a few times and it’s all it takes to send her over again, the near scream in his ear. She clenches around him like a vice, her moans muffled by the seal of his mouth around hers. He kisses her through her second climax, his own coming quickly, and one final push of his hips and the rasp of her name on his lips. It takes more strength than he anticipated to keep himself upright, and his arms shake with effort as he cleans her up with a tissue from his pocket. Aaron helps her down, making sure her legs don’t give out beneath her in the unforgiving shoes, beginning the now arduous task of searching for their clothes. Even with the closed door they hear the boom of music, indicating the party is still going strong.

“We should make this a yearly thing,” Emily says with a wicked grin, tossing his jacket in his direction. “No one even missed us.”

He pretends to consider it, wondering if there’s any truth to her words. They’ve been gone awhile; certainly by now someone might be wondering. His jaw flexes as he watches her rearrange her bra, getting the dress over her head and past her hips. And as his eyes wander down her legs to the expensive shoes, the ones with the name he still can’t pronounce, he knows he’ll never be able to deny her. “Fine. But only if you wear those again.”

[furblrwurblr]

I had to adress the trauma before they kissed

Part three to Patience, Love!

Douxie x Reader Soulmate AU, fluff, angst. crack if you squint.

《One》 《Two》 | Masterlist

You'd had a few days of unfamiliar band after unfamiliar band and were glad for a taste of home when Papa Skull was up on the itinerary. You two slept in as you had for the past week and had an instant noodle breakfast (the good kind, none of that Maruchan crap Douxie's addicted to) before hitting the town. Dancing, walking, and browsing the streets with their little shops was a fun way to spend the afternoon before you made your way to the venue. You noticed Douxie was being… a little bit more. A little closer, a little softer, a little jittery. You'd had a mind to ask him but he interrupted you every time he saw your curiosity scratching itself on his forearms, running off looking over his shoulder for you to follow. At some point, he'd asked to split up, absolutely not because he wanted to find something for you, or so he said. You spent the whole time he was gone absently searching for something in return, preoccupied with the thoughts on your arms and legs that were just so very Douxie.

"Oh! That's nice! No, no no no, this is your soulmate! Nice isn't great, it's between good and okay. Or would it be between good and alright? Which trumps the other? Blast it all, this store isn't helping," or "This store isn't at ALL what I thought it was... No! Don't think about that, if they see that on their arm I'll be the impatient one!"

You told him where you were after he seemed somewhat satisfied. He walked towards you, the grin on his face falling into a betrayed look of feigned shock as he watched you taking pictures of all the thoughts he'd forgotten you could see. He groaned as he sat beside you on a park bench, seeing just how much you'd read.

"Did I give it away already?"

"All I know is it's somewhere between great and good, or is alright the better word?" you teased.

He bumped your shoulder with his. "Cheeky," he smiled. "Let's head back to the campsite, eat a quick meal, and grab a good spot!"

After a light dinner, you'd managed to squeeze your way fairly close to the front, far enough from the stage to risk being squished. You'd been there a few hours when Papa Skull finally made their appearance, you and Douxie amongst the loudest welcoming them onstage. Not long into their hit song, "Mean", Douxie was nervous.

"I’m gonna do it. I don’t want them to spook..."

You glimpsed his concern on your forearm, unable to make much out in your excitement for the live music, but you knew he was working up to something. You let it be, curious to see what he'd do.

Douxie slowed his breathing. He really liked you so far, and although your mind was quick to dive into the gutter, he didn't want to scare you off. Your own mishap ended in him seeing you once before ghosting for nearly a month. Not to mention, he could tell how embarrassed his little experiments on the boat had made you, what with the whispering and all. It may have been a different kind of embarrassed, more flustered than mortified, but you'd never spoken out against anything. He didn't have a clear grasp of your boundaries. While he'd been searching for a gift for you, he'd wondered how he was going to give it to you. He settled for another first- nothing big, it was pretty cliché, but he enjoyed doing it and hoped you would too.

Douxie placed a hand on your upper arm to make sure you wouldn't startle, it was a bit difficult to get your attention. He slid his arm behind your back, looking to you for confirmation. Your nod made him sigh in relief as he planted his hand on the outside of your shoulder. He felt you laugh and nearly withdrew before you grabbed his hand and pulled so his arm draped over your shoulders, placing your other hand across his back and gently curling your fingers into his waist. You two shared a tender moment of silence before half-turning your attention back to the concert, both too caught up in each other to be in the moment.

He fingered the large box in his sweater pocket, withdrawing his hand. It could wait, he didn't want to risk you moving to look at it, and Mordrax forbid you take your warm hand from his side before he was ready.

Later, you both fell into your sleeping bags with a mighty puff of the air rushing out under the sudden weights, both heaving great sighs of relief. You looked over to him in silence, waiting for his gaze to meet yours. His head turned quickly, smiling wide. Laughter built between you until the pair of you were wiping tears from your eyes, still feeling the euphoria from the concert and one another. Once you relaxed again, Douxie got up and beckoned for you to do the same. You looked at him quizzically.

"If I know I'm hungry then you must be too, I eat less often than you," he reasoned.

Reluctantly, you got up, sad to leave your plush dollar-store sleeping bag. Douxie started the fire while you zipped the tent to swap your themed tour outfit for something more comfortable.

Douxie rustled through the bags back on the ship, pulling out leftovers from the diner in town. He made his way back to the now-blazing fire, sitting on a log to prepare the meal. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the glow of the lantern in the tent--

blimey, was the tent always that sheer? It was night and the lantern made it far too easy to see your silhouette. "Woah, looking away now!" Ah, he saw how appropriate the word "blimey" was in this case. While he did enjoy what he saw, part of him did want God to blind himself because he was 90% sure he'd just watched you remove your top without your knowledge. "God, I tease them constantly, but I'm just as bad, aren't I?" he realized. He quickly went back to warming the food, hands rushed and face pink.

You watched his fault write itself on your torso, cheeks just as flushed, although with a bit more amusement than he was feeling at the moment. You finished and stepped out, a smug look on your face. Wordlessly, you sat next to him, studying his reaction. He avoided your eyes, recognizing the glint they had when his thoughts betrayed him. You slid off the log, reclining against it and making a show of placing your arms behind your head.

"I guess I can't really complain, you are making me dinner first, as per your own terms," you said, nonchalant.

Douxie cursed himself. "How could I have been so bold?" he lamented with a sheepish smile. Time to change the subject. He looked around, searching for anything to talk about, settling on the flames that reminded him of the familiar he missed oh so much. He broke the comfortable silence and turned to you. "Would you like me to show you something?" The nondescript watch on his wrist extended, magical glamour falling to reveal his brace, now glowing with energy.

You nodded eagerly. His magic was comforting and beautiful, just like he was… wait. Why not mess with him a bit?

"One condition."

He withdrew his hands from their position in front of him, face earnest.

"Take off your sweater. I've seen your tattoos under your short sleeves, and I know they glow, wonderboy," you half-demanded. Payback and your own reward in one? You deserved to be a little stern.

He laughed, shrugging off his sweater before putting his hands at the ready once more. With a smile, he pushed and pulled the bonfire from where he sat beside you, flames turning his signature blue the more he manipulated them. It was beautiful, drowning the verdant green of the forest in a blue that belonged only to your soulmate. Douxie reveled in your amazement, fire magic a new experience for a novice such as yourself.

You turned your attention to his tattoos and your lips parted in wonder. You'd never seen them in full, runes you couldn't recognize glowing a vibrant blue. The swooping lines didn't move, but it seemed the light shining through them did, glow rippling below his skin. You slid back onto the log again, closer this time, and brushed your fingers over them. Douxie let the fire swirl to its original shape, goosebumps raising at your feather-light touch. They dimmed, once again their original grey, but you persisted, enthralled by the runes.

Douxie had never loved someone so much. Sure, you'd only known each other a few months, but he felt justified since you were his soulmate. As much as he still couldn't believe he'd met you after all that time, he was more amazed at how often it proved true that you were made to fit one another. Your humor, your joys, your sadness. It made itself apparent in how you walked towards him, the way you smiled when he called you. The comfort in your voice that he could feel through the phone. Your eyes. Oh, your eyes, how they did things to his heart.

He pulled himself from his thoughts, eyes roving over your body intently, latching onto any exposed skin. He was looking in pride at his thoughts of admiration, feeling almost as if they marked you as his. "A reminder," he thought, that right now, you belonged to one another. He brought his gaze back to those eyes of yours, now studying his face. The two of you looked at one another in silence, watching one another's eyes flick down and back again, faces drawing closer. His tongue darted out to moisten his slightly chapped lip, causing your breath to hitch. His heart jumped at the sound, snapping him from his daze. He gently lifted your hand from his bicep, shakily breathing the same air as you. He folded your fingers into his chill grasp, bringing them to his lips and pressing a long kiss to your knuckles before bowing his head to press your hand to his brow. You smiled, heart beating from your chest, then grabbed his sweater from between you two with your free hand and sliding it up to his back and over a shoulder. He slowly released your hand with a small chuckle, twirling the garment from his shoulders and placing it on your own. His hands dragged down to the beginning of the zipper and tugged it forward to secure it on your body, pulling you just that much closer. He lingered, smiling gently at you. This. This was a moment he hoped would never end.

His long fingers withdrew to finally warm the food, the 'almost' of what had just happened filling the comfortable silence of the forest clearing.

It'd been a few days since the Almost (your affectionate lament for the kiss that nearly was), and the tour was nearly over. Only a few days were left and you weren't ready for it to end. Maybe after this you and Douxie could spend more time at one another's flats, just to have each other around. Your home was your sanctuary, and you were already fully prepared to open it to him. You trusted him and were happy you'd ironed out your initial issues. For the most part, that is.

"What's this, Y/N?" Douxie asked. You were taken from your thoughts by his sudden question and gave him a puzzled look. He gestured to the 'trust issue' statement written boldly across his bare shoulder before going to sit next to you, the distance between you feeling like an emotional chasm. He used to sit closer before the Almost. "Is something the matter? Did I do something to make you cross?" His face was less puzzled now and more anxious.

"Well," you began, "It's nothing recent. Maybe it is? I keep dwelling on the past, and I feel I need to bring it up."

"Go for it, darling, anything you need," he rushed, turning his entire body to face you.

"I've been running most of my life, as is the curse of an immortal, but I’ve spent the last sixteen years of it searching for you. I kept asking you questions, trying to find you. As amusing as it was to play cat and mouse, I felt displaced and restless. Friends came and went, I scoured America in its entirety. A hint, a clue, something!" You rushed, breathing ragged. "Arcadia was my resignation, you know," you continued, quieter now. "I've stayed as long as I have because I gave up, too tired to keep running towards something, no matter how much I wanted it. No matter how much I wanted you, I--" your eyes filled with tears and you paused, choking on a sob. You sucked in a breath. He needed to hear this. *You* needed him to hear this. "It hurt when I realized you didn't remember our fleeting moments together in combat. I enjoyed sharing that moment of revealing ourselves to one another, but it hurts that I've chased that beautiful blue for the past eight centuries and you don't remember those two years of patrolling the canals.”

Douxie placed a hesitant hand on the small of your back and his eyes dropped from your face to the forest floor, remembering why he'd been so excited to meet you. He'd seen your reactions to his thoughts back in Italy but quickly had to move on. He and Archie had decided long ago that no matter what, they'd put Merlin's tasks above anything else. Even his soulmate. When he realized how close you were he got excited. He couldn't search for you, but he didn't see anything wrong if you found him first. Even then, he kept you at arm's length, scared of the consequences. Merlin's tower, how could he have been so thoughtless? Douxie had never stopped to consider how his constant moving around would affect you. He never took the concepts of soulmates all that seriously. Sure, he could daydream about being with someone made for him and refuse to date anyone until he met you, but it became real the night he found you. Too real. So he ran. Dancing around you, pretending he was doing you a favor with his vague answers and puzzling riddles. Then, he met you again. You were real once more. After his comical encounter with you, he was too preoccupied to sleep, absorbing the finality of having a soulmate. You had come into his life with a bang, a reminder that Merlin and his tasks didn't define who he was. What had shaped him were small influences of the people he'd met throughout the last millennium, including you.

You were worried. Douxie's brow was more creased than you'd ever seen it. His hand on your back grew clammy, the cold night air quickly cooling the fresh damp patch of your shirt.

"...Douxie?" you whispered, afraid your rant had gone too far. His head turned just a little too quickly and you gasped at the tears glistening in the moonlight. He choked on a few unsteady breaths, mouth half-forming words. You reached your hand for the bicep of the arm loosely wrapped around your waist, but before you could touch it, he spoke.

"I'm so sorry," he whispered, drawing his hand away from your torso. The first of many large tears burst upon the wood of the log you sat upon. Whose tears they were no longer mattered when both of you began crying anew. You wrapped your fingers around the arm he removed from your side and placed it there once more, throwing your arms around his middle. He sobbed at this, heart happy that you still accepted him, and brought his other hand to clutch your head to his collarbone. He wasn't running anymore, he'd done what was asked of him and was finally able to let you catch up to him.

The two of you were too caught up in one another to notice but had either of you been paying attention, you would have seen each other's skin being adorned with countless words of adoration, regret, and joy.

[beomglocks]

colors ; k.th

part of the badlands series!

colors: “you’re ripped at every edge but you’re a masterpiece.”

based off halsey’s badlands album.

warnings and other: museum curator!taehyun, old money!y/n, mentions of depression and grass smoking, little bit of angst i guess??

taehyun sighed as he took down the 11th painting this week. the museum hadn't been very busy in the past couple of weeks, maybe because the weather was getting colder. one part of him figured that many people just wanted to be bundled up at home watching holiday themed movies and drinking warm drinks rather than appreciating enchanting artworks.

he couldn't fool himself though, he knew the truth. today's generation didn't care about the fine arts anymore. a shame, seeing as everything around them seemed to be inspired by it.

kang taehyun worked at his local museum. he had been offered the position by the owner one night while roaming the place. this should've been a red flag looking back. the owner seemed desperate for someone to fill in the position since the previous employee had left without notice. nonetheless, taehyun took the job and didn't regret it one bit.

open 24/7, the red haired boy was always working on the clock. not that there was much to do seeing as most of the people his age or even a bit older didn't hang around museums purely for the joy of it. actually, his only job was to exhibit the newly arrived collections, clean and dust them off, and conduct regular tours and workshops for the public. due to this and the fact that not many people even came by he would take regular breaks.

once in a while you'd see the occasional old person or art expertee roaming around the small museum. if you were lucky, you'd see the local edgy teens posing next to a piece they didn't understand just to get an aesthetic picture. taehyun would also have the unfortunate job of shooing them away or scolding them for getting just a bit too close.

recently his boss, who was the museum manager and maybe the only other person besides taehyun that worked there, had informed him that due to funds and unfortunate unforeseen events, the museum would be closing down in about a month from now. this caused taehyun to fall deep into a depression since this was his only job and he loved it here. the museum was like his second home. he found comfort in the silent images displayed throughout the building. they always told him a story and when new pieces came in he would sit and stare attentively at the new anecdote being told to him.

taehyun smiled sadly at the piece he had just taken down. it was a painting of 2 people kissing however both of their faces were covered by white cloths. this was his favorite and he didn't even have a clue as to why. probably because of the uncertainty of what the other was feeling or because of the fact that the other couldn't see each other's faces through the cloth, that would've made the kiss more exciting in his opinion.

he stepped out of the museum and into the frosty air of the outside world. it was only autumn so why was it so cold? he thought to himself. he discreetly pulled out a prerolled blunt and his white lighter from his pocket. he lit it and stuck in between his slightly chapped lips.

maybe smoking dope wasn't the healthiest thing in the world, especially for a boy so young, barely 19, but it helped taehyun get his mind off the inevitably of losing his job and being homeless for the winter. he shuttered at the thought. he would have to room with one of his friends, he sighed shaking his head. no, he didn't want to be a burden, yeonjun had helped him enough as it is.

he looked at his surroundings taking in the cold autumn afternoon. the trees had long lost their leaves and were bare. the sky was a murky gray color as if it were threatening to rain any time soon. he noticed a girl bundled up in winter clothes near the entrance of the building glance at him. he smiled at her and she jumped at the eye contact, thinking that he wouldn't catch her. taehyun chuckled as he watched her rush into the museum. "back to work," he said out loud to himself.

once the blunt had been almost gone, he smoked what was left of it and headed back into the empty museum. he was feeling light-headed, the effects of the blunt finally taking action, but taehyun was used to it so it barely affected him as much.

he made his way to the girl who was now starting to take off her jacket and scarf. taehyun tapped on the girl's shoulder to get her attention. "hi," he smiled at the girl, showing off his dazzling smile. "if you'd like, i could give you a tour of the museum." well what's left of it anyways, he thought to himself.

"oh...no thank you," said the girl. she smiled warmly at the worker. "well not to be invasive of your decision but it's sort of in my job description," taehyun replied as he rubbed the back of his neck. the girl sighed in defeat, "i guess i have no choice then."

taehyun laughed as he took her coat and scarf to hang up in the public closet, "yep, trust me. they say im not that bad of a tour guide, im quite fun to be around if i do say so myself. i promise not to bore you too much." the girl nodded, not entirely convinced. "if i do end up bored i will hold you accountable..." she took a moment to take a peek at taehyun's name tag, "kang taehyun," she joked.

as they walked through the museum the girl couldn't help but notice that it was fairly empty. "why are there almost no paintings in here?" she laughed hesitantly. "i thought this was a museum?" taehyun stopped walking, turning to her with a sad expression on his face.

"the museum is expected to close in about a month or so," he stated simply. "oh...that's terrible. may i ask why?" the girl responded. "my boss says we've run out of funds or something like that," taehyun chuckled bitterly. "people don't really give a shit about good art these days anyways."

"that's a shame..."

they continued to look through the various paintings that were still up and occasionally the girl would ask to see the ones that were taken down and left on the floor. it seemed the two were lost in each other's company as night started to approach.

"thank you for the tour of this lovely museum taehyun. it was fun but it's a shame such a nice museum like this is closing down," the girl said softly. taehyun nodded solemnly, he just wanted to get this day over with and crash at his apartment. he didn't blame the girl before him but talking to her reminded him of his harsh reality. a notification coming from the girl's bag made both of them jump as they were both lost in their thoughts.

"ah, that must be my father. he's kind of annoying when it comes to my curfew," she chuckled, digging her phone from her bag. taehyun watched her with a bored expression until his eyes reached her bag. he hadn't noticed this earlier but she had been carrying a louis vuitton bag. his eyes bulged at the expensive item that was so close to him, they got even larger when she fished out the latest iphone from it.

taehyun wasn't poor per se, he had just enough to get by since he was living paycheck to paycheck. however, he had never been in such close proximity to any luxury items. he suddenly felt weird being this close to this girl.

"what do you mean by curfew?" taehyun asks hesitantly. the girl sighs, "my father is one of south korea's richest chaebol's, maybe one of the big three at his point." she rolled her eyes as if this information was nothing. "he's super strict with me because i guess i'm just his show pony daughter whom he can show off to say he's a good father."

taehyun gulped, had he just been casually hanging out with the daughter of one of the richest men in korea? he felt sick at this. she looked up at taehyun's uneasy expression, "oh my god im sorry i just dumped that all on you! i just needed to catch a break so i came here, i didn't mean to drag you into my life story."

taehyun fixes his face, laughing nervously, "no- no its fine really. we all need a break sometimes right? im glad you got to have that time here." the girl smiled up at him, completely misreading his nervous laughter, "im glad i got to spend it here with you taehyun."

"oh before i go!" taehyun watched her pull out a checkbook from her bag and his stomach dropped. he silently watched her scribble some stuff onto the slip and tear it out, handing it to him.

"there's not too much i can take out of my account without my father flipping out but i hope this helps even just a little. whether it be in your personal life or with the museum."

taehyun eyes the check and chokes when he sees 50,000 dollars written neatly on the black line. he swears he can feel sweat going down his face like in the cartoons. "i- i cant possibly take this from you." he moves to hand the check back but the girl refuses to take it back. "taehyun, you love this museum with your entire being. i see the way to look at the paintings and the passion with which you explained them to me. i'd hate to see that taken away."

"plus, if you're gone who's gonna give me the tour when i come back?" she laughs as if this is something casual. taehyun's hands shake as he pockets the check, "i seriously cannot thank you enough...you don't know how much you just helped the museum and m-"

the girls phone dings again and she grumbles, "ugh why can't he just leave me alone. sorry but i think i really gotta go for real before he tracks my location or something crazy like that."

taehyun nods wistfully at the mention of her having to leave. he was really starting to enjoy her company.

"oh by the way," the girl giggles as she pulls her coat on hurriedly.  "was that you smoking weed at the corner of the museum earlier?" the girl chuckled to herself again just remembering it. taehyun furrowed his eyebrows, "why would you say that kind of thing at out loud and at my job?!" he scolded in a playful hushed voice.

"i just thought it was funny and you also smelled of weed the entire tour, i didn't mind though so don't worry," the girl concluded. she was starting to walk away towards out the door now. "i'll walk you out," taehyun offers. "such a helpful employee. is this in the job description too?" the girl jokes, turning to him while a smile on her lips. "well, not exactly," taehyun says smoothly.

she shakes her head, "i'll see you soon taehyun." he watches her walk off into the darkness of the night when he suddenly remembers something.

"hey what's your name by the way?" he shouts after the girl. for some reason taehyun really was hopeful of seeing her again.

"y/n!" came the disembodied voice of the girl he had just met.