#“Flights from US to Canada”

[airofare]

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[muqingists]

why did nobody tell me naruto was good (my brother who's been trying to get me to watch it for literal years is seen running in to fucking dropkick me)

[contained-mess]

finally replied to some people today!!! and GOD I just need to remind myself that it's always infinitely more daunting in my head and the outcome after actually replying is so much more pleasant and bearable than just letting the task build up. knowing myself I'm gonna forget this in hmmmm let's say a month? but rn the clarity feels good so ima relish it 🧘🏻‍♀️

[victusinveritas]

Story below the cut to avoid a paywall.

There was no explanation, no warning. One minute, I was in an immigration office talking to an officer about my work visa, which had been approved months before and allowed me, a Canadian, to work in the US. The next, I was told to put my hands against the wall, and patted down like a criminal before being sent to an Ice detention center without the chance to talk to a lawyer.

I grew up in Whitehorse, Yukon, a small town in the northernmost part of Canada. I always knew I wanted to do something bigger with my life. I left home early and moved to Vancouver, British Columbia, where I built a career spanning multiple industries – acting in film and television, owning bars and restaurants, flipping condos and managing Airbnbs.

In my 30s, I found my true passion working in the health and wellness industry. I was given the opportunity to help launch an American brand of health tonics called Holy! Water – a job that would involve moving to the US.

I was granted my trade Nafta work visa, which allows Canadian and Mexican citizens to work in the US in specific professional occupations, on my second attempt. It goes without saying, then, that I have no criminal record. I also love the US and consider myself to be a kind, hard-working person.

I started working in California and travelled back and forth between Canada and the US multiple times without any complications – until one day, upon returning to the US, a border officer questioned me about my initial visa denial and subsequent visa approval. He asked why I had gone to the San Diego border the second time to apply. I explained that that was where my lawyer’s offices were, and that he had wanted to accompany me to ensure there were no issues.

After a long interrogation, the officer told me it seemed “shady” and that my visa hadn’t been properly processed. He claimed I also couldn’t work for a company in the US that made use of hemp – one of the beverage ingredients. He revoked my visa, and told me I could still work for the company from Canada, but if I wanted to return to the US, I would need to reapply.

I was devastated; I had just started building a life in California. I stayed in Canada for the next few months, and was eventually offered a similar position with a different health and wellness brand.

I restarted the visa process and returned to the same immigration office at the San Diego border, since they had processed my visa before and I was familiar with it. Hours passed, with many confused opinions about my case. The officer I spoke to was kind but told me that, due to my previous issues, I needed to apply for my visa through the consulate. I told her I hadn’t been aware I needed to apply that way, but had no problem doing it.

Then she said something strange: “You didn’t do anything wrong. You are not in trouble, you are not a criminal.”

I remember thinking: Why would she say that? Of course I’m not a criminal!

She then told me they had to send me back to Canada. That didn’t concern me; I assumed I would simply book a flight home. But as I sat searching for flights, a man approached me.

“Come with me,” he said.

There was no explanation, no warning. He led me to a room, took my belongings from my hands and ordered me to put my hands against the wall. A woman immediately began patting me down. The commands came rapid-fire, one after another, too fast to process.

They took my shoes and pulled out my shoelaces.

“What are you doing? What is happening?” I asked.

“You are being detained.”

“I don’t understand. What does that mean? For how long?”

“I don’t know.”

That would be the response to nearly every question I would ask over the next two weeks: “I don’t know.”

They brought me downstairs for a series of interviews and medical questions, searched my bags and told me I had to get rid of half my belongings because I couldn’t take everything with me.

“Take everything with me where?” I asked.

A woman asked me for the name of someone they could contact on my behalf. In moments like this, you realize you don’t actually know anyone’s phone number anymore. By some miracle, I had recently memorized my best friend Britt’s number because I had been putting my grocery points on her account.

I gave them her phone number.

They handed me a mat and a folded-up sheet of aluminum foil.

“What is this?”

“Your blanket.”

“I don’t understand.”

I was taken to a tiny, freezing cement cell with bright fluorescent lights and a toilet. There were five other women lying on their mats with the aluminum sheets wrapped over them, looking like dead bodies. The guard locked the door behind me.

For two days, we remained in that cell, only leaving briefly for food. The lights never turned off, we never knew what time it was and no one answered our questions. No one in the cell spoke English, so I either tried to sleep or meditate to keep from having a breakdown. I didn’t trust the food, so I fasted, assuming I wouldn’t be there long.

On the third day, I was finally allowed to make a phone call. I called Britt and told her that I didn’t understand what was happening, that no one would tell me when I was going home, and that she was my only contact.

They gave me a stack of paperwork to sign and told me I was being given a five-year ban unless I applied for re-entry through the consulate. The officer also said it didn’t matter whether I signed the papers or not; it was happening regardless.

I was so delirious that I just signed. I told them I would pay for my flight home and asked when I could leave.

No answer.

Then they moved me to another cell – this time with no mat or blanket. I sat on the freezing cement floor for hours. That’s when I realized they were processing me into real jail: the Otay Mesa Detention Center.

I was told to shower, given a jail uniform, fingerprinted and interviewed. I begged for information.

“How long will I be here?”

“I don’t know your case,” the man said. “Could be days. Could be weeks. But I’m telling you right now – you need to mentally prepare yourself for months.”

Months.

I felt like I was going to throw up.

I was taken to the nurse’s office for a medical check. She asked what had happened to me. She had never seen a Canadian there before. When I told her my story, she grabbed my hand and said: “Do you believe in God?”

I told her I had only recently found God, but that I now believed in God more than anything.

“I believe God brought you here for a reason,” she said. “I know it feels like your life is in a million pieces, but you will be OK. Through this, I think you are going to find a way to help others.”

At the time, I didn’t know what that meant. She asked if she could pray for me. I held her hands and wept.

I felt like I had been sent an angel.

I was then placed in a real jail unit: two levels of cells surrounding a common area, just like in the movies. I was put in a tiny cell alone with a bunk bed and a toilet.

The best part: there were blankets. After three days without one, I wrapped myself in mine and finally felt some comfort.

For the first day, I didn’t leave my cell. I continued fasting, terrified that the food might make me sick. The only available water came from the tap attached to the toilet in our cells or a sink in the common area, neither of which felt safe to drink.

Eventually, I forced myself to step out, meet the guards and learn the rules. One of them told me: “No fighting.”

“I’m a lover, not a fighter,” I joked. He laughed.

I asked if there had ever been a fight here.

“In this unit? No,” he said. “No one in this unit has a criminal record.”

That’s when I started meeting the other women.

That’s when I started hearing their stories.

And that’s when I made a decision: I would never allow myself to feel sorry for my situation again. No matter how hard this was, I had to be grateful. Because every woman I met was in an even more difficult position than mine.

There were around 140 of us in our unit. Many women had lived and worked in the US legally for years but had overstayed their visas – often after reapplying and being denied. They had all been detained without warning.

If someone is a criminal, I agree they should be taken off the streets. But not one of these women had a criminal record. These women acknowledged that they shouldn’t have overstayed and took responsibility for their actions. But their frustration wasn’t about being held accountable; it was about the endless, bureaucratic limbo they had been trapped in.

The real issue was how long it took to get out of the system, with no clear answers, no timeline and no way to move forward. Once deported, many have no choice but to abandon everything they own because the cost of shipping their belongings back is too high.

I met a woman who had been on a road trip with her husband. She said they had 10-year work visas. While driving near the San Diego border, they mistakenly got into a lane leading to Mexico. They stopped and told the agent they didn’t have their passports on them, expecting to be redirected. Instead, they were detained. They are both pastors.

I met a family of three who had been living in the US for 11 years with work authorizations. They paid taxes and were waiting for their green cards. Every year, the mother had to undergo a background check, but this time, she was told to bring her whole family. When they arrived, they were taken into custody and told their status would now be processed from within the detention center.

Another woman from Canada had been living in the US with her husband who was detained after a traffic stop. She admitted she had overstayed her visa and accepted that she would be deported. But she had been stuck in the system for almost six weeks because she hadn’t had her passport. Who runs casual errands with their passport?

One woman had a 10-year visa. When it expired, she moved back to her home country, Venezuela. She admitted she had overstayed by one month before leaving. Later, she returned for a vacation and entered the US without issue. But when she took a domestic flight from Miami to Los Angeles, she was picked up by Ice and detained. She couldn’t be deported because Venezuela wasn’t accepting deportees. She didn’t know when she was getting out.

There was a girl from India who had overstayed her student visa for three days before heading back home. She then came back to the US on a new, valid visa to finish her master’s degree and was handed over to Ice due to the three days she had overstayed on her previous visa.

There were women who had been picked up off the street, from outside their workplaces, from their homes. All of these women told me that they had been detained for time spans ranging from a few weeks to 10 months. One woman’s daughter was outside the detention center protesting for her release.

That night, the pastor invited me to a service she was holding. A girl who spoke English translated for me as the women took turns sharing their prayers – prayers for their sick parents, for the children they hadn’t seen in weeks, for the loved ones they had been torn away from.

Then, unexpectedly, they asked if they could pray for me. I was new here, and they wanted to welcome me. They formed a circle around me, took my hands and prayed. I had never felt so much love, energy and compassion from a group of strangers in my life. Everyone was crying.

At 3am the next day, I was woken up in my cell.

“Pack your bag. You’re leaving.”

I jolted upright. “I get to go home?”

The officer shrugged. “I don’t know where you’re going.”

Of course. No one ever knew anything.

I grabbed my things and went downstairs, where 10 other women stood in silence, tears streaming down their faces. But these weren’t happy tears. That was the moment I learned the term “transferred”.

For many of these women, detention centers had become a twisted version of home. They had formed bonds, established routines and found slivers of comfort in the friendships they had built. Now, without warning, they were being torn apart and sent somewhere new. Watching them say goodbye, clinging to each other, was gut-wrenching.

I had no idea what was waiting for me next. In hindsight, that was probably for the best.

Our next stop was Arizona, the San Luis Regional Detention Center. The transfer process lasted 24 hours, a sleepless, grueling ordeal. This time, men were transported with us. Roughly 50 of us were crammed into a prison bus for the next five hours, packed together – women in the front, men in the back. We were bound in chains that wrapped tightly around our waists, with our cuffed hands secured to our bodies and shackles restraining our feet, forcing every movement into a slow, clinking struggle.

When we arrived at our next destination, we were forced to go through the entire intake process all over again, with medical exams, fingerprinting – and pregnancy tests; they lined us up in a filthy cell, squatting over a communal toilet, holding Dixie cups of urine while the nurse dropped pregnancy tests in each of our cups. It was disgusting.

We sat in freezing-cold jail cells for hours, waiting for everyone to be processed. Across the room, one of the women suddenly spotted her husband. They had both been detained and were now seeing each other for the first time in weeks.

The look on her face – pure love, relief and longing – was something I’ll never forget.

We were beyond exhausted. I felt like I was hallucinating.

The guard tossed us each a blanket: “Find a bed.”

There were no pillows. The room was ice cold, and one blanket wasn’t enough. Around me, women lay curled into themselves, heads covered, looking like a room full of corpses. This place made the last jail feel like the Four Seasons.

I kept telling myself: Do not let this break you.

Thirty of us shared one room. We were given one Styrofoam cup for water and one plastic spoon that we had to reuse for every meal. I eventually had to start trying to eat and, sure enough, I got sick. None of the uniforms fit, and everyone had men’s shoes on. The towels they gave us to shower were hand towels. They wouldn’t give us more blankets. The fluorescent lights shined on us 24/7.

Everything felt like it was meant to break you. Nothing was explained to us. I wasn’t given a phone call. We were locked in a room, no daylight, with no idea when we would get out.

I tried to stay calm as every fiber of my being raged towards panic mode. I didn’t know how I would tell Britt where I was. Then, as if sent from God, one of the women showed me a tablet attached to the wall where I could send emails. I only remembered my CEO’s email from memory. I typed out a message, praying he would see it.

He responded.

Through him, I was able to connect with Britt. She told me that they were working around the clock trying to get me out. But no one had any answers; the system made it next to impossible. I told her about the conditions in this new place, and that was when we decided to go to the media.

She started working with a reporter and asked whether I would be able to call her so she could loop him in. The international phone account that Britt had previously tried to set up for me wasn’t working, so one of the other women offered to let me use her phone account to make the call.

We were all in this together.

With nothing to do in my cell but talk, I made new friends – women who had risked everything for the chance at a better life for themselves and their families.

Through them, I learned the harsh reality of seeking asylum. Showing me their physical scars, they explained how they had paid smugglers anywhere from $20,000 to $60,000 to reach the US border, enduring brutal jungles and horrendous conditions.

One woman had been offered asylum in Mexico within two weeks but had been encouraged to keep going to the US. Now, she was stuck, living in a nightmare, separated from her young children for months. She sobbed, telling me how she felt like the worst mother in the world.

Many of these women were highly educated and spoke multiple languages. Yet, they had been advised to pretend they didn’t speak English because it would supposedly increase their chances of asylum.

Some believed they were being used as examples, as warnings to others not to try to come.

Women were starting to panic in this new facility, and knowing I was most likely the first person to get out, they wrote letters and messages for me to send to their families.

It felt like we had all been kidnapped, thrown into some sort of sick psychological experiment meant to strip us of every ounce of strength and dignity.

We were from different countries, spoke different languages and practiced different religions. Yet, in this place, none of that mattered. Everyone took care of each other. Everyone shared food. Everyone held each other when someone broke down. Everyone fought to keep each other’s hope alive.

I got a message from Britt. My story had started to blow up in the media.

Almost immediately after, I was told I was being released.

My Ice agent, who had never spoken to me, told my lawyer I could have left sooner if I had signed a withdrawal form, and that they hadn’t known I would pay for my own flight home.

From the moment I arrived, I begged every officer I saw to let me pay for my own ticket home. Not a single one of them ever spoke to me about my case.

To put things into perspective: I had a Canadian passport, lawyers, resources, media attention, friends, family and even politicians advocating for me. Yet, I was still detained for nearly two weeks.

Imagine what this system is like for every other person in there.

A small group of us were transferred back to San Diego at 2am – one last road trip, once again shackled in chains. I was then taken to the airport, where two officers were waiting for me. The media was there, so the officers snuck me in through a side door, trying to avoid anyone seeing me in restraints. I was beyond grateful that, at the very least, I didn’t have to walk through the airport in chains.

To my surprise, the officers escorting me were incredibly kind, and even funny. It was the first time I had laughed in weeks.

I asked if I could put my shoelaces back on.

“Yes,” one of them said with a grin. “But you better not run.”

“Yeah,” the other added. “Or we’ll have to tackle you in the airport. That’ll really make the headlines.”

I laughed, then told them I had spent a lot of time observing the guards during my detention and I couldn’t believe how often I saw humans treating other humans with such disregard. “But don’t worry,” I joked. “You two get five stars.”

When I finally landed in Canada, my mom and two best friends were waiting for me. So was the media. I spoke to them briefly, numb and delusional from exhaustion.

It was surreal listening to my friends recount everything they had done to get me out: working with lawyers, reaching out to the media, making endless calls to detention centers, desperately trying to get through to Ice or anyone who could help. They said the entire system felt rigged, designed to make it nearly impossible for anyone to get out.

The reality became clear: Ice detention isn’t just a bureaucratic nightmare. It’s a business. These facilities are privately owned and run for profit.

Companies like CoreCivic and GEO Group receive government funding based on the number of people they detain, which is why they lobby for stricter immigration policies. It’s a lucrative business: CoreCivic made over $560m from Ice contracts in a single year. In 2024, GEO Group made more than $763m from Ice contracts.

The more detainees, the more money they make. It stands to reason that these companies have no incentive to release people quickly. What I had experienced was finally starting to make sense.

[lesbiansagainstdnp]

shoutout to dnp their tit uk leg is at exactly the right time for me to see it and avoid going through the us for my semester abroad in europe

[reasonsforhope]

"In 2021, scientists in Guelph, Ontario set out to accomplish something that had never been done before: open a lab specifically designed for raising bumble bees in captivity. 

Now, three years later, the scientists at the Bumble Bee Conservation Lab are celebrating a huge milestone. Over the course of 2024, they successfully pulled off what was once deemed impossible and raised a generation of yellow-banded bumble bees. 

The Bumble Bee Conservation Lab, which operates under the nonprofit Wildlife Preservation Canada, is the culmination of a decade-long mission to save the bee species, which is listed as endangered under the Xerces Society for Invertebrate Conservation...

Although the efforts have been in motion for over a decade, the lab itself is a recent development that has rapidly accelerated conservation efforts. 

For bee scientists, the urgency was necessary. 

“We could see the major declines happening rapidly in Canada’s native bumble bees and knew we had to act, not just talk about the problem, but do something practical and immediate,” Woolaver said. 

Yellow-banded bumble bees, which live in southern Canada and across a huge swatch of the United States, were once a common species.

However, like many other bee species, their populations declined sharply in the mid-1990s from a litany of threats, including pathogens, pesticides, and dramatic habitat loss. 

Since the turn of the century, scientists have plunged in to give bees a helping hand. But it was only in the last decade that Woolaver and his team “identified a major gap” in bumble bee conservation and set out to solve it. 

“No one knew how to breed threatened species in captivity,” he explained. “This is critically important if assurance populations are needed to keep a species from going extinct and to assist with future reintroductions.”

To start their experiment, scientists hand-selected wild queen bees throughout Ontario and brought them to the temperature-controlled lab, where they were “treated like queens” and fed tiny balls of nectar and pollen. 

Then, with the help of Ontario’s African Lion Safari theme park, the queens were brought out to small, outdoor enclosures and paired with other bees with the hope that mating would occur. 

For some pairs, they had to play around with different environments to “set the mood,” swapping out spacious flight cages for cozier colony boxes. 

And it worked. 

“The two biggest success stories of 2024 were that we successfully bred our focal species, yellow-banded bumble bees, through their entire lifecycle for the first time,” Woolaver said. 

“[And] the first successful overwintering of yellow-banded bumble bees last winter allowed us to establish our first lab generation, doubling our mating successes and significantly increasing the number of young queens for overwintering to wake early spring and start their own colonies for future generations and future reintroductions.”

Although the first-of-its-kind experiment required careful planning, consideration, resources, and a decade of research, Woolaver hopes that their efforts inspire others to help bees in backyards across North America. 

“Be aware that our native bumble bees really are in serious decline,” Woolaver noted, “so when cottagers see bumble bees pollinating plants in their gardens, they really are seeing something special.”"

-via GoodGoodGood, December 9, 2024

[vayubooking]

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[paddysnuffles]

Americans have no idea just how pissed off Canadians are about Trump.

Like, the tariff thing got us mad, but the 51st state thing? It's got us seething.

Liberals, progressives, even most of the Conservatives are all united on this.

We're sharing lists of Canadian-owned alternatives to American brands.

We're cancelling tourist trips to the US (one lady in a news story said she cancelled a trip to Florida for six and doesn't regret losing $1,300 due to the cancellation).

And if we have to go to the US, such as the couple who's selling their California home? We're taking Canadian flights instead.

Some travel agencies have seen as much as a 40% decrease in bookings of flights from Canada to the US, and it's estimated it'll affect at least $2.1 billion dollars of the travel industry alone (not counting the tourism side of things like Disney trips and hotel bookings).

I've also heard of people from the Commonwealth cancelling trips to the US to visit Canada instead, and the same from people in Europe.

[4drianaaaa]

can you write a fic of hamzah, martin, and mandy going on a cruise to mexico for reader’s 21st birthday and they blog the whole trip for readers youtube channel. ( and can you add in some smut🤪)

birthday cruise | Hamzahthefantastic

fem reader + nsfw, wrd count: 1.9k

`It was a couple weeks before Hamzah and Martin would come back from they're break. You and Hamzah have been able to spend more time together and it was the best for you two. Him being the clingy person he is he loved every second he'd spend with you.

Mandy and Martin loved traveling together, but they also loved when all four of you guys would go. You all decided to go on a cruise just to enjoy your last days of break together AND celebrate your 21'st Birthday before they spend another 10+ hours in the office.

|

You looked outside of the window of the plane as you saw the most bluest water ever. You looked back at your boyfriend who was also looking outside the window knowing he was gonna spend the best time with you.

The plane finally landed in the bright sunny Mexico. Bright colored birds flew over your head as you were getting off the plane and a not so cool but warm breeze hit your face. You all were quick to get off the plane and currently waiting in the arrivals of the airport waiting for your uber.

"Oh my god, I love this weather!" You smiled putting your hand up feeling the warmness of the breeze. "I'm already getting hot! Is it just me?" Hamzah said unzipping his hoodie as you laughed. After a couple more 20 minutes of waiting you were all picked up by a van on your way to the cruise ship. You looked outside the seat of your window noticing things you would never see in Canada.

"I'm so excited!" you squealed as Hamzah kissed your head as his arm was wrapped around your shoulders.

You all four had agreed on getting separate rooms so it would be Mandy and Martin next to you both.

|

You all were finally boarding the ship as you couldn't believe you were on a single floating ship that carried more than 500 people. You began to feel a small anxiousness creep over you as you looked for your rooms, Obviously Hamzah noticed and decided to hold your hand.

"Are you okay babe?" He questioned as you nodded your head. "Yeah, I'm just kind of scared that I'll get sea sick or something." you sighed as he pulled you closer to him, "Lets just try to have the best night okay? And If you don't feel good we can always get off and go somewhere else." He said lowly as you nodded and kissed him.

After making it to your shared room you suddenly felt so much better. You looked at the Bright clear blue sky and the pattern of the waves the ever so blue ocean would make. You leaned against the balcony as you felt Hamzah's hands wrap around your waist. "So pretty" you smiled as he nipped your cheek - "Just like you" he added as you cupped the side of his face. You all decided to get ready and go eat since you haven't had anything since the morning of your flight. You wore a black bikini and threw over a matching black crochet dress that laid all the way down to at least your ankles. You freshened your self up and you both we're out of the door waiting for Martin and Mandy at a Buffet.

"Wow that looks so good on you babe" He said feeling the crochet dress, "Thank you baby" you said pecking him in the lips as he got closer to your ear - "I'm so glad we got a room to ourselves" he whispered as you pushed him off you "Hamzah!" you laughed as "What!? I'm serious!" he giggled as you saw Mandy and Martin finally arrive.

"Dude I kind of wish Rudolph was here man" Martin laid his head on Hamzah's shoulder and Hamzah rubbed Martin back, "I know, I know, me too".

You all four had sat down on a table in front of a beautiful view of the sunset, The waiter had suddenly came to take everyone's order.

"I'll do two steaks please for us and all of your special drinks!" Hamzah said handing the waiter the menu as your eyes widened in shock. "It's her special day! 21'st by the way, Thanks!" He added as the waiter smiled and left. "What was that!" Mandy bursted out laughing as you were re-thinking coming here in the first place. You all were joking the whole night until all 15 drinks finally arrived. You looked at Hamzah who had a devilish smirk on his face, "Why would you do this!" you planted your face on your palm "It's okay! Mandy and Martin will help! See!" He said giving two drinks to Mandy and Martin "Woahhh I don't know about that!" Mandy laughed as Martin shrugged his shoulders picking up a glass and downing it as Mandy took the glass away from him.

You all spent the rest of the dinner trying to finish the drinks as you all watched the night come together as bright lights hung from the top of the cruise.

After finishing dinner, you all made your way to the giant pool of the Cruise.

You slid your dress off as you slowly stepped into the pool with Hamzah. The warm air and cool pool was the perfect relaxing mix. You dunked your head in as he laughed. You got up from under the water as he dove splashing next to you. He charged picking you up as you wrapped your legs around his waist. He shook his head as you ran your fingers through his blonde grown out buzz.

"I'm so glad we were able to do this" he hummed "I know, These next 6 days are gonna be the best ever" you smiled as his lips crashed into yours. Your hands ran through his arms, biceps and around his neck. You felt splashing onto you as Mandy and Martin had joined the both of you. You all four decided to grab a few more drinks since it was a very special day for you. You obviously all agreed those were gonna be your last drinks of the night.

you all talked and vlogged for a bit for Mandy's channel. Meanwhile playing around a splashing in the water you couldn't help but notice Hamzah always getting behind you or not taking his hands off you.

"You look so gorgeous right now my love" he hummed into your ear as you looked at hamzah's red flushed face as his hands were glued to your waist, "please can we go to the room" he said needy for you. You never knew Hamzah was this crazy clingy when he was a little tispy.

|

Your legs were wrapped around Hamzah’s waist as he carried you to your room. It was just you two who remained in the pool until you both got kicked out eventually. He swung the door open as he kicked his sandals off as he sat at the edge of the bed as your lips met his. He rested his hands on your waist as he fidgeted with the strings of your bikini. Your hands wrapped around his necks tugging him closer to you as he leaned back on to the bed as you followed his move.

“I was waiting for this moment this whole day so far” he bit his bottom lip as you crawled on top of him as you fell on top of him. His hands traveling all over your back as your lips were sealed to his. His tongue slipped into your mouth as he grabbed the side of your face as you lowly moaned into his mouth. His lips parting off of yours as his eyes glistened, he loved hearing that noise come out of your mouth. He kissed your lips once again as you melted under him. He rolled around as you shifted under him as his knee was pinned between your heat. You whined as you couldn’t handle the friction between him and your sensitive cunt. His lips traced down your neck as your skin grew into goosebumps.

“Fuck Hamzah” you whined as his hands gripped onto your boobs as his mouth found your perky nipples. His free hand having a preview of your wet core. Your whimpers hitched under him. As his hand traveled down to your covered heat. Your hips twitched as you bit your lips.

"So excited huh? Can't wait till I get my fingers in you?" he huffed as his mouth sucked on your breasts. "Fuck yes please Hamzah.." you were able to breath out as his lips crashed into yours once again. Your nails traveled through his short hair as your legs wrapped around his waist already needing all of him. "Try not to be so loud mama" he grunted as his hard erection stood out through his swimming trunks. He lowered them down to his thighs as his erect cock flung upwards only making you desperate for him.

"So fucking desperate huh? Wanna be all over my cock princess?" He whispered as he slipped your panties to the side of your pussy as his thumb circled your sensitive clit. His lips messily kissing your neck as his pace grew rubbing against your clit. Before you were able to compose yourself he rubbed his hard cock against your heated core as your hands grasped onto his shoulders. The friction between his throbbing cock and your clit did wonders on you.

"Please Hamzah!" You whimpered as his member stretched out your aching pussy. Your hands gripped on to his swole forearms (👅) as his body slammed into yours as you yelled in satisfaction.

“Fuck your so good baby-“ he huffed as his lips met your neck once again kissing your chest as your legs wrapped around his waist. His pace grew as your hands traveled through out his hair once again.

“Fuck baby- you gonna come for me baby?” He whispered as you nodded your head in response as your back arched rolling your eyes till the back of your skull. His body slowed down as his lips began moving all over your exposed areas. He couldn’t help but leave a giant hickey close to the back of your neck as you whined in satisfaction. His couple more thrusts sent you into a state of satisfaction as you felt that huge knot release as he groaned into your ear.

“Mhhh- so fucking good. Yes-“ he moaned in between the sloppy thrusts as your stomach was filled with his cum.

“Fuck baby. Open wide.” He groaned as he slipped his twitching hard cock out of your pumping all his left over cum on your breasts and stomach as it left patterns he can stare at all day.

“Your so good for me y/n, happy birthday my love” he panted as he rested next to you as your lips met with his.

|

You both were sat in a warm bath as water slowly dripped from the fancy faucet. He ran the body scrub all over your neck and chest as you leaned on his chest. He loved after care just because he liked making you feel relaxed.

"What are you guys going to do when you both get to the office?" you questioned as your finger circled around a bubble in the water as he scoffed, "That's not important right now baby. What's Important is that you have the best birthday week ever." he hummed as he kissed the top of your head.

"I love you, Hamzah"

"I love you more angel"

_

(a/n: you guys have all the right to throw tomatoes at me for uploading this SO LATE, i just have been busy with so many things and I have so many more things coming but it was this fic holding some sort of grudge!! Without further ado I hope you guys enjoy >-<)

[captain-huggy-bear]

A Little Misunderstanding

Pairing: Quinn Hughes x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Lil' angsty at points, but ends sweet, lots of mutual pining and two idiots not realising the other is also in love with the other, meddling mothers (for the best this time)

Summary: Your parents assume that Quinn, the man you mention over the phone all the time, is in fact your boyfriend. He's very much not, but Quinn thinks its funny to pretend he is...until it gets a little too real and maybe some truths are told and feelings are aired.

Notes: Thank you to the anon who requested fake dating to lovers with Quinn, I had this idea which is a little different from the usual fake dating so I hope its okay and you still like it 😊

Tried to keep it ambiguous as to where the reader originated from so that us UK girlies can relate as well as anyone else not from Vancouver and/or Canada.

Reminder I typically use UK spellings because I'm English so...don't come at me if you wish I spelt it the US away. If I have to read US spellings all the time, you can handle the odd UK spelling

Totally happy to take requests/ideas/prompts at the moment in my ask box :)

Writing Masterlist

"When does your flight get in?" You balance your phone between your shoulder and ear, picking up a stray sock that had fallen out of your laundry basket as you attempt to tidy your apartment.

"7am your time, sweetheart, remember?" Your mother's voice rings clear down the line, familiar and warm. It's been a while since you saw either of your parents. You having moved all the way to Vancouver, more miles than you could count from your birthplace and hometown around two years ago. You were excited to have them finally able to come out and stay with you for a week, they'd never been to see you, and it had been a while since you'd been able to see your parents, not having time to fly to see them. While you were glad for the move to Vancouver, living in a completely different place away from your family wasn't always the easiest thing in the world. You so often felt like you were having to fend for yourself without much of a support network. Luckily you'd made some good friends in the time you'd been in Van.

"Quinn offered to come with me to pick you and dad up, we'll be there waiting for you so don't worry about getting an Uber." You dropped Quinn's name casually because that's what it was, he was just another part of your existence. Your friend, who admittedly you had a small crush on, but just your friend nonetheless. Just because you thought he was beautiful and wanted to kiss him didn't mean you were allowed to kiss him or that he'd even want to kiss you. He was a friend who happened to be a man and you both happened to be single. This had not changed for two years and wasn't likely to any time soon.

"Oh, Quinn'll be there?" Your mother's voice was suddenly more upbeat, excited. She'd been eager to meet Quinn for months now, you're not sure why she finally took an interest in one of your friends but you can't help but be glad. Quinn had become a massive part of your life, a support network you very much needed when you'd first come to a strange new place all by yourself. He was part of the fabric of your life now, and you knew he'd charm your parents without even thinking about it. It shouldn't matter to you that your parents like your friend, its not like Quinn was your boyfriend, but it did matter to you. You wanted them to like him as much as you did because you wanted him around for the foreseeable future.

"Yeah, I mentioned you were coming to visit the other day and his car is bigger than mine, so he offered to come along, he has to get up early most days anyway so he's not too bothered by it." It helped that Quinn had a couple of days off, but still you were thankful. He could have spent his rare enough free time doing something much more enjoyable than helping you pick your parents up from the airport.

"Your father and I look forward to meeting him, we've heard so much about him, darling!"

There's something about your mother's tone that makes you stop for a second suddenly feeling a little awkward about the whole thing. Maybe it's just how eager she is or maybe it's something else, but there's a little red flag waving in the back of your mind with some small print on that you just can't quite read yet.

"Right...um, look I'll see you tomorrow morning then? I gotta get everything ready for you guys."

"Of course, of course! We love you!"

"Love you too, mum."

"You're sure you don't mind?" You look over at Quinn from the passenger seat, the two of you look exhausted, big bags under your eyes and even bigger hoodies to hide in because a 5am wake up to get to the airport in time was just a little much for both of you. This early in the morning it's still dark and the streetlights do something to Quinn's face that makes him even more handsome than usual, even as he looks like he might fall back asleep at any minute. It doesn't help that his scruff has grown out or that his hair is in those perfect waves he always seems to get even when he's just taken his bucket off.

"I wouldn't have offered if I did, besides the amount of time we spend together isn't it about time I met your parents? You've met mine." He smiles over at you, cheeky, the sort of Quinn most people didn't see. It's silly that it makes your cheeks feel warm, he's just your friend. You shouldn't be flustered by him.

"Your parents are at as many of your games as possible, of course I've met them."

"So are you. Sue me for wanting to meet the parents of one of my best friends."

"I'm your best friend?" You lean your head back on the headrest, tilting slightly to grin at him all silly. Quinn can see it from the corner of his eye and as much as it's ridiculous, that little grin makes you even more beautiful than normal.

"One of." He rolls his eyes at you, partly because of your silliness and partly rolling his eyes at himself. You're his friend. He shouldn't feel this way about you, men can have female friends...he just can't seem to have you as a female friend without wanting to kiss you at any given opportunity. It's becoming difficult, even more so in the early morning when the low light level puts your face in stark contrast and your hoodie, one of his, makes you look so cozy and sweet.

"That's just your way of avoiding admitting how much you love me and need me in your life."

Quinn's cheeks flush bright red, so bright that even the low light can't hide it nor hide the way he bites back a smile at you, eyes fixed on the road and the last few miles to the airport.

"...Shut up."

The silence that fills the car is comfortable, the sort that comes about from spending so much time together. You have friends that aren't Quinn, of course you do, but Quinn had been your first friend in Vancouver. He'd shown you around and made time for you in his incredibly busy schedule. You were often the first person he saw when he came off a roadie and the last person to see him before he left for one. There were nights when you stayed round Quinn's after a game or vice versa. You spent so much time together that you simply coexisted, being around Quinn was as easy as breathing. You rarely argued or disagreed and when you did it was always resolved properly. You simply worked. There wasn't ever much to think about with Quinn. You could just...shut off.

"Thank you, though...seriously." You take a moment, thinking how to word your next few thoughts, your warning as the signs for the airport come into full view, "Just, my mum seems really eager to meet you so...just brace yourself."

"Eager?"

"You know when your parents are excited to meet a new partner?" You think back to the few times you'd introduced a boyfriend to your mum, the excitement that she exuded...it was starting to concern you that she was that excited to just meet your friend. Because that's all Quinn was. Your friend. Not your boyfriend. Your friend, you remind yourself, even as he looks so good smiling over at you with his beard. He'd let it grow out just enough that he looked rugged and mature.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah, she's that sort of excited which is really weird...she normally doesn't' care that much about my friends. Just, sorry, if she's really weird about it?" It's awkward enough talking about, you and Quinn have always stayed firmly platonic, you didn't talk about the fact that people assumed you were dating or even the concept of it. Talking about it felt...it felt like you were opening the curtains up, letting him see in a little too far.

"You didn't tell her we were married or something, did you?"

"Quinn! Shut up!" He laughs so loud that you can't actually be that mad at him, not when he's grinning at you like that, not when he's been so stressed as of late about the performance of his team. Even if it's at your expense.

"What? Just checking! For all I know you could have told her we got married in Vegas during one of my games or something?"

"If I'm telling my mum I'm married to you, it'll be because I'm actually married to you, you idiot." You roll your eyes at him, arms crossing over your chest as you turn to look out the window.

"Oh, so you do want to marry me?" He's joking, but he's not...he's thought about it. There's not a day that Quinn hasn't thought about what it would be like to be yours and you be his, not since he met you...and then promptly managed to land himself so far into the friendzone that he was scared to crawl his way out lest he leave you behind in the process.

"...I hate you."

"No you don't." His voice is singsong in intonation and sweet and he's right because you love him and it hurts...god, it hurts how much you love someone you can't have. Someone you see every day, someone who is so deeply ingrained in your life that removing him would be like carving a hole into your own chest.

You just sit and glare at him, even as a heavy sort of sadness hits, as he pulls up into one of the parking bays for collecting passengers.

It's okay that he's just your friend, you remind yourself as you get out of the car. It's okay because he's the best friend you could ask for, he's here at 6.45 am in the morning to collect your parents from the airport, not because he was asked or because he had to, but because he wanted to. You can live with loving him in silence, so long as you always have him around.

"I think they're over this way, probably, near gate 1?" You're just getting your bearings, trying to figure out roughly where your parents will come out at after they find their things from baggage claim when you hear it.

"My baby!" The squeal of a middle aged woman who hasn't seen her daughter in far too long pierces the air. You barely have time to brace yourself for impact before your mother is wrapping you up in a gigantic hug and pressing as many kisses to your face as possible, you know without a doubt her signature mauve lipstick is smudged all across your skin.

Your father stands behind her, rolling his eyes in amusement but the smile he gives you is no less warm, "Hey there, princess."

"Hi, mum, hi, dad," You pull yourself free from your mother just long enough to get a long awaited hug from your father, big and warm and so familiar that you almost feel like crying. How long has it been since you last hugged your dad? Half a year? Nine months? Longer? You sometimes don't realise how much you miss something until you get it back.

When you turn back around your mother is already pulling Quinn into a hug that he accepts, if a tad awkwardly, his hands patting her on the back like he's not quite sure how hugs work.

She has his face in her hands before you can intervene, overly familiar and friendly as she grins up at him like he's made her day just by existing. "You must be Quinn, Y/N's boyfriend..."

"Oh, he's n-" You're pretty sure your eyes bug out of your head, startled by the suggestion because at no point in the last few years of living in Vancouver had you ever called Quinn your boyfriend. Ever.

You're cut off by Quinn who's grinning at you wickedly over the top of your mother's head like he's just been giving the greatest Christmas present he could ever ask for and in that moment you know...you know that he is going to make your life very difficult with this tiny piece of information.

"Yeah, hi, nice to meet, the boyfriend, that's me." God, he wishes it was true. There's nothing more he wants in that moment than to be able to say to your mom that you are 100% his girlfriend, but he can't...he can, however, enjoy the roleplaying while it lasts. He can't really stop himself, not when you look so aghast at your mother calling him your boyfriend, not when he can use this to tease you for at least the next 30 years. He grew up with 2 brothers, sue him for taking advantage of the situation.

"Quinn!"

"What? Am I not allowed to call myself your boyfriend anymore?" He sidles up to you, slipping out from your mother's grip to pull you into his side. His arm rests naturally over your shoulder, yours finding his waist, and it is natural...because you've done this a million times before. The kiss he presses to your hair is new though, different and as much as your mum clearly believes the ruse, you can see your father just looks amused. Something tells you he knows this is all an act, but he finds it enjoyable to watch. Typical. No support from him when you need it most. Dads.

"Oh, she's just grouchy in the mornings, has been ever since she was a baby!" Your mother looks at the two of you with such pride that you're certain her heart actually might break when she finds out Quinn isn't actually your boyfriend. You've never seen her look so happy with your choice in a man before and you're certain she won't be able to cope when you have to inevitably tell her that it was either a) a lie or b) that Quinn just wasn't the guy for you (another lie just to make your life more complicated).

"Mum!"

"Oh don't worry, I know just how grouchy my baby can be in the mornings." This time he presses a kiss to your cheek and when he does, you hiss lowly in his ear, 'I'm going to kill you.' and Quinn can't help but laugh at you, biting his lip at how much fun he's having riling you up.

"Here let me take your bags, Mrs Y/L/N," Quinn's bending down before your mother can even begin to protest, her carry on backpack being slung over his shoulder and pulling up the handle of her suitcase to wheel it behind him.

"Oh, you don't have to, Quinn!"

"I insist." He knows he's making it harder on you, can see the look you give him because he's just going to make your mother fall in love with him. But, even as he enjoys riling you up, he was also raised right and he's not letting your mother carry her own bags.

Your mother hangs back with you while your father and Quinn start walking ahead with the suitcases. She slips her arm through yours walking with you to keep up, as she does so she does a very bad attempt at whispering. The sort of whispering that means you know Quinn can hear every word and is probably enjoying it immensely.

"He's such a gentleman..."

"Yeah, a real gentleman." You mutter sarcastically, watching the way his shoulders rise and fall in a silent laugh that he's no doubt doing his best to swallow down.

"Don't be grumpy, he's just being sweet on you. You should be glad for such a loving boyfriend..." Your mother scolds you before raising her voice back to normal, Quinn and your father slowing down slightly to help keep the four of you together, "So, Quinn, my daughter tells me you're a hockey player?"

"Yeah, you talk about me, baby?" Quinn's grin is wide, and you can't help the warmth that fills your entire face because you can't actually deny it. You talk about Quinn all the time, he's your best friend and whenever your mother phones, you inevitably talk about him. Whether it was a game of his you went to or a coffee place you'd visited together or gala he'd invited you to. Maybe, you talked about him too much? Maybe, it was obvious in the way you talked about him that you loved him? Maybe that's why your mother had made such a large assumption about your relationship status. Maybe this was your fault, why wouldn't she assume you were dating?

"She talks about you all the time. Quinn this, Quinn that...did you know that Quinn did this today and broke this record?"

"Mum..." You groan out, looking to your dad for help but all he does is shrug his shoulders at you, amusement bright in his eyes. Even if he could do something you know he wouldn't because he's clearly enjoying your torture.

Quinn can't help it, the tables seem to reverse. You're embarrassed still, but now he is too, bright red in the face, ears flushed the colour of a fire engine and a hand rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. All because you talk about him to your parents...you talk about him when he's not around...he feels like a twelve year old, giddy because his crush smiled at him for the first time.

"I play for the NHL."

"Vancouver Canucks, wasn't it?" Your mother asks as the four of you step out into the cold Canadian air, her attention making Quinn squirm and you smile, enjoying the discomfort being swapped around for a moment.

"Yeah, I'm the captain of the team." He smiles at your mother awkwardly as he opens the boot of the car and starts to pile in the suitcases, organising them in just the right way that they fit without hassle.

Your father chimes in as he lifts his own suitcase into the back, Quinn helping him shove it back further, "That's impressive, I used to play field hockey myself, never got out of the amateur league but got a few bruises in my time. You had an injury recently right?"

You still remember phoning your mum to talk about it, at first worried and then over time growing more and more frustrated with how sullen Quinn was being. He'd grown restless from not being able to play hockey and you'd been his distraction, a distraction that had grown fed up with his moping no matter how much you loved him.

"I've had a few this year, most recently my hand." He raises his braced hand, the brace a point of annoyance to him at this point in time. He was itching to be done with it, but put up with it because it meant he could still play hockey at the moment.

"Oh, you shouldn't have been carrying my bag then, Quinn!" Your mother fusses over him, flapping about as if she might have a miracle cure for his hand injury.

"Honestly, it's fine! It looks worse than it is, I promise. I wouldn't get away with it otherwise, this one would kill me." He nods his head at you as he closes the boot, opening one of the backdoors for your mother to slide inside.

"Damn right I'd kill you, I cannot take more days of you moping that you can't play hockey and that you're bored despite my amazing company."

"You know I enjoyed spending time with you, sweetheart...but..."

"But, you can't live without hockey, yeah, I know..."

He follows you round to the passenger side door, opening it for you like a gentleman and letting you slide inside. You find yourself enjoying the attention even as you catch your mother's eye in the rear view mirror, a little smirk reaching her lips as she watches Quinn buckle you in. Something he does from time to time when he's feeling particularly sweet...because he was a good friend.

"So, Quinn, how did you meet our daughter? I'm not sure she ever mentioned it?"

The entire ride home is filled with your mother peppering Quinn with questions, encouraging him to talk more and more about your 'relationship'. Everything from when you first met to the first date you went on (which Quinn told her was the first time he took you ice skating, you were under the impression that that was a friendly family skate event and most certainly not a date).

The conversation lulls while you set your parents up in your spare bedroom, helping them settle themselves and showing them around your apartment. They hadn't ever seen it in person and they spent half the time cooing over your choices, the photos of family and friends on the wall, the ones of you and Quinn, as well as your mother checking your fridge and telling you to buy more vegetables.

It's as you're sitting down to a breakfast of pre-bought croissants and pain au chocolat that your mother restarts her question. This time even more invasive than the first.

"So Quinn, when did you know?"

"Mm? Know what?" Your best friend looks at your mother with furrowed brows, taking a sip of his orange juice and almost choking on it when she proceeds to clarify her question.

"When you loved my daughter."

There's a long beat of silence where your eyes stay fixated on your plate, watching your own hands intently as you spread Nutella inside your croissant, far too focused on that to be anything casual or calm. You're certain you're going to be sick because he doesn't love you but you love him and your poor mother is so oblivious and this...this is going too far, it feels like it's gone too far.

"Expected answer or honest answer?"

"Honest answer."

"The second week I knew her." Your head snaps up with a start only to find Quinn looking directly at you, green eyes crinkling softly at the corners. "She heard that I had been hurt on the ice the night before and she stormed round my apartment with a bunch of food, medicine and a blanket. Spent the whole day looking after me and making me watch 90s movies I hadn't watched growing up. No one outside my family had ever done that for me before...it made me realise that if I wasn't already in love, I would be pretty quick." You almost believe him, the way he looks at you, the way he speaks so softly. Almost.

You look down at your plate, tears welling in your eyes because you know he doesn't mean it. He's spinning a yarn for your mother and it hurts that he would go that far when you both know this is all some ruse he's decided to pull. You swallow hard and take a bite of your croissant, refusing to look at him for the rest of breakfast.

You won't meet his eyes until he goes to leave after breakfast, your parents hanging back so you can say goodbye to your 'boyfriend'.

"Mind if I come over after dinner? We could watch a movie with your parents?"

"Quinn..." You go to challenge him on his behaviour today, but the words won't come out.

"What?"

"Nothing...uh, sure, after dinner?"

"After dinner, baby."

You want to tell him off as he says it, as he presses a kiss to your cheek so your parents can see because you aren't his baby and he's hurting you. He's hurting you without realising it because you so desperately want to be his baby. But, you don't. You just watch him walk away down the corridor of your apartment building and out of sight before getting ready to show your parents around Vancouver for the day.

You try to put the whole thing out of your mind throughout the day, showing your parents the sights of Vancouver, including the arena...but it's hard when they keep bringing Quinn back up and asking about your feelings. They probe you for half the day and it's emotionally exhausting balancing the truth with the half-truth, even more so knowing that they're going to be just as disappointed as you are when they realise your relationship with Quinn is just a sham, a charade, a fake.

Eventually they seem to grow bored of talking about the topic, however, and dinner goes relatively smoothly, you taking them to a nice restaurant Quinn had shown you back in your first couple of months in Vancouver. Even that feels bittersweet though, filled with memories of the two of you dining together. You can't help but feel like the whole issue needs addressing as you get them back home and pop a film on ready for Quinn's arrival.

When he arrives he continues the act as if it isn't one, greeting you at the door with a kiss to the cheek and pulling you down onto the loveseat opposite your parents, curling one arm around your shoulders and urging you to lay against him, your cheek pressed into his chest. In some ways it's familiar, not an act, because you cuddle for movies all time, completely platonically of course, but both of you are touchy feely and it's always been part of your dynamic. In others though? The way he talks to you, the pet names, kisses to your hair, that is all new, all a way to show your parents he's the 'doting boyfriend', even though he's not your boyfriend at all.

Your parents lap it up, every now and then you catch them smiling at each other and then over to the two of you and you can't help but feel heavy with it. With this feeling of unrequited affection. You love Quinn, you've known that for a while now, but it was easy to be around him because you didn't need to address it. You could love him in silence and from afar...you had never considered how hard it would become when what you wanted most was being dangled in front of you like a carrot on a string.

Quinn has a similar dilemma going on in his own head. He's always known he loved you more than a friend, even when you barely knew each other...had he been braver he would have asked for your number for a date that first day, not so that he could show you around a new city as a 'friend'. But, he'd been a coward and since then he'd continued to be. He enjoyed every ounce of affection he got from you, every hug, every cuddle, ever time you held his arm at an event, all while feeling like that had to be enough...now he's had more? He's not sure it'll ever be enough, he's greedy for you. Greedy for your affection, your attention, greedy in the way he wants to keep kissing you, keeping calling you sweet names and greedy for the way you grow bashful. Greedy for more than just being your friend...he's given himself a taste of what life could be like and now he can't forget it.

It's halfway through the movie, your legs slung over Quinn's lap and his fingers carding through the ends of your hair when your parents stand with a groan from the other couch.

"Princess?" You lift your head to look at your father, who's stretching out his back after sitting for so long.

"Yeah, dad?"

"Your mother and I are getting a little tired...we're going to go to bed, if that's alright with you two?"

"Of course, don't let us keep you up." Quinn confirms your own thoughts as well, telling your parents it's not problem at all. It's all so...so domestic.

Your dad presses a kiss to the top of your head, as does your mother, before yourself and Quinn wish them goodnight. You wait until you see the door to the spare room start to close, not waiting for it to do so fully, before turning to Quinn. You pull out of his arms, the missing warmth of you an immediate loss to him, but it has him sitting up straight and taking you seriously.

Your face is sullen, sad, eyebrows pinched, mouth turned down into a frown and he's alarmed to see that your eyes are glassy like you might cry.

"Why on earth would you let my parents think we're dating? Why would you tell my mother you're in love with me?" You're certain you're going to cry, angry, frustrated and sad all in one. Lovesick because it hurts to hear him tell your mother he was in love with you when you know he's not.

"Why not?" He frowns at you, hands reaching out but you keep just out of reach as if touching him is the last thing you want. You've never shied away from Quinn's touch and he recoils, breathing a little heavier out of anxious worry that he's upset you, that he's fucked this up. Maybe you've been uncomfortable with his touch all day? Has he been making you uncomfortable all day? Is he one of those guys?

"Because we're not dating and you're not in love with me, Quinn. My mother is certain we're going to get married and I'll stop being an old spinster! You're getting her hopes up." The unspoken words lay heavy on your tongue, 'you're getting my hopes up', you want to say.

"Who said I didn't love you? Who said I didn't want to marry you?" The look he gives you isn't the cheeky one he's had all day, it's not joking or silly, it's dead serious. He scoots closer to you, but doesn't reach out for you this time. But, Quinn can't help but want to be close to you, to be drawn into your orbit, into your gravity.

"Quinn..."

"What?"

"You're being mean..." Your voice is filled with tears, wet, pathetic sounding and you choke back a sob as a tear falls down your cheek because he's being so mean...he can't dangle that in front of you, everything you've ever wanted, not when he doesn't actually mean it.

He realises in that moment that you don't believe him. You believe he's spent the entire morning and evening telling lies, saying that he loves you when he doesn't, that you're that important to him when you aren't. You believe he's being mean because you don't believe him, that the tears are because you think he's holding this thing, this idea out in front of you, only to snatch it away.

"Look, I said a lot today...but none of it was a lie." He can't help himself this time, hand coming up to cup your cheek, thumb wiping away that pesky tear that shouldn't have been there in the first place. It's the way you lean into his touch that brings him a sense of confidence, of relief, you wouldn't do that if you didn't want him touching you.

"I know our first date wasn't a date, just a stupid family skate I was too scared to ask you out to as more than just a friend. I wish it had been a date and I wish I had been brave enough from the start to tell you I didn't just want to be your friend."

"Quinn..."

"And I was telling the truth...when your mother asked me when I fell in love with you." He tugs you closer, until your legs are back over his lap and your practically sitting on top of him, arms wrapping around your lower back and pulling you closer. The way he stares up at you is nothing short of reverent.

"Q..."

"The second week we knew each other you came to look after me when no one else did...and I knew...I knew that I was going to love you and that I was stupid for not asking you out in the first place...but I was...I was too scared to say anything. I didn't want to lose my new friend...I thought..." He hesitates, tongue coming out to nervously brush against his bottom lip, capturing your attention like a magpie with a shiny button.

"You thought?" You're whispering, quiet as if to speak any louder might scare him, might disrupt this little bubble you've found yourself in.

"I thought having a tiny bit of you...any bit, was better than having none of you at all." Quinn confesses, shifting you on his lap as your legs fall either side of his hips until you're so close your noses brush.

"Is it?"

"It was...for a bit..." It's self-deprecating, sardonic, like he finds himself ridiculous, foolish.

"And now?"

"And now I've had a taste of what it's like to love you, to be able to kiss you and hold you...call you mine...and now I'm greedy and it's not enough...Baby, it'll never be enough."

"You...you love me?" It's like even after all of this, everything he's said, every tender touch, you still don't quite believe him. It's hard to believe that everything you've ever wanted is sat in the palm of your hand just waiting for you to capture it, to take it. That your feelings, the ones you believed were unrequited for two years, were actually returned all along.

"I love you...and...um, if...if you'll have me, maybe I could be your real boyfriend this time?" His face is bright red, so warm to the touch when you're fingers reach out to trace his cheeks that you're surprised he doesn't combust.

"I'd like that...I...I love you too,"

"So...I'm your boyfriend?" He says it like he doesn't quite believe it, the beauty mark on his cheek moving as he grins up at you giddy like a little kid getting his first bag of sweets.

"You're my boyfriend." You press a kiss to that beauty mark without overthinking it...because you can now, because now it's not a lie when you tell your parents he's your boyfriend, because now you're allowed to kiss him and hold him and tell him how much you love him.

"Fuck...that sounds good."

He can't help but just stare up at you from where you're straddling his lap. The healthy glow to your skin, the soft smile directed down at him, the way you seem to curl into him like you're not close enough even now. God, you're beautiful and you're his...you're finally his and he's yours and...and he can't comprehend that the thing he wanted to happen for so long has finally happened. What had he been scared of all this time? He could have been with you for two years, instead he'd squandered it out of fear...

"Quinn?" Your voice is soft, melodic, so so sweet that almost closes his eyes at the sound.

"Yeah, baby?"

"Kiss me?" You whisper as if it's shameful to ask, as if you've asked for something more sordid than a simple kiss...your first kiss together at that.

"Anything for my girl."

He's gentle in the way he cups your neck and jaw with one large hand, thumb pressing just below your jaw bone as he pulls you in. There's nothing rushed about the way Quinn presses your lips together, the smooth glide of his bottom lip against your top. Even the way his tongue brushes against your lip until you open up for him is slow, steady, adoring. You can't help the way you sigh into him, fingers gliding through dark chocolate strands, eyes closing shut with the sense of home, sense of relief that you find in him.

The two of you lose yourselves in each other, slow kisses, wandering hands, nothing too extreme, but a new found intimacy that you're finally allowed to indulge in before you curl back up together to watch the remainder of the movie. Watch being a loose term for what you're really doing.

"Did you know?" Your father turns his eyes away from the scene outside the spare bedroom, the way you're curled up in Quinn's arms like you were always supposed to be there. Neither of you realising that the spare bedroom door had never fully closed, both your parents eavesdropping like Samwise Gamgee.

"That they weren't actually together, dear?" Your mother looks sly and devious as she looks over at her husband. The face of the woman he loves, but also fears in equal measure.

"Yes."

"Of course I knew...but I figured they could both use a shove in the right direction, I mean, look at them?" Your parents both turn to watch the two of you, the way you curl up together on the couch is the epitome of young love. There's no real watching of a movie happening, instead Quinn's fingers are rubbing circles into your shoulder, while you look up at him lovingly from where you're curled against his chest. Every now and then he dips his head down to press a kiss against your forehead, and each time you giggle, face pressing briefly into his neck. The giddy feeling of a new, fresh love, making film watching the least of your interests.

"They just needed a little push." Both your parents smile at each other even as your father playfully scolds his wife, "You're a meddlesome woman."

"And you love me for it."

"Yes, yes I do."

Perhaps it took a bit of meddling, a fake misunderstanding, but that would be their little secret...at least for now. Your mother was rather looking forward to seeing you squirm in the future as you reveal the truth, that you hadn't actually been dating Quinn as long as you said. Yes, she certainly was happy to help, but she also was still your mother and lying to your mother was certainly not the done thing. A little squirming was good for you sometimes, but first, she'd let you enjoy the fresh bloom of love...and she'd go easy on you.

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[canonkiller]

I don't want to beg but it's so bad rn. explaining below the break because it's a Lot but if you have the means I would really appreciate the support

Make a one time donation on Ko-fi

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thank you so much for your time and patience with me, it goes beyond words.

not to get right into it but I am going to fucking die here as things stand I shan't lie

the teeth I need out or repaired are going to cost thousands. the implants to replace the ones already out are $1500 to start and it's only going to go up from there. magnet therapy to try and get my brain to accept that food and medication aren't evil poisons are more thousands, before the daily transportation costs. medication, supplements, and most of the testing I need done isn't covered in Canada, same with pretty much anything about my vision. subsidized housing is $800+ for accessible units after a 7-14 year minimum wait, and the last unit that changed ownership in my area did so in 2020. rent without social support is currently hovering around $3k for anything that isn't a single bedroom at the end of a flight of stairs.

I know there is so much going on in the world right now and I already feel like I ask for a lot. but I'm disabled, blind and a wheelchair user, on government disability benefits that don't even begin to cover any of this, living in the upstairs corner of a house I'm not physically able or permitted to use because my family simply doesn't fucking like me, and despite it all I still desperately want to fucking live. I've applied for housing, transportation services and other government programs that have basically all ghosted me or left me in perpetual waiting list limbo. the coverage u try to get takes months to process, if it ever does, and it's scraps. I'm really trying to not lose my mind about all of this but this cycle of bearing it until it breaks me is getting shorter and shorter and I can barely walk without my heart trying to give out now. I'm really scared, honestly, and I don't even have the energy to feel it as fear. I just don't know how to make it out of this okay.

[chrisgetsmewetter]

His first baddie

Pairing: blackfem!influenser x soft!dom hamzah

summary: your finally in canada for your collab with hamzah and martin. but when hamzah picks you up and feelings are confessed one thing leads to another

warnings: pnv, unprotected sex (wrap it b4 u tap it!), eventual smut, just freaky, pet names (baby, mama)

word count: 2.8k

a/n: HURRY DINNERS READY!! mama cooked yall up a feast bcs i starved yall long enough. the smut is lowkey in more hamzahs pov and idk how to feel about it so give me y’all’s opinions. lastly pleaseee give me some requests please im bored out of my mind idec who its about. LOVE YALL😘

here you are four years later with over 12 million subscribers on YouTube when Hamzah dms you on Instagram.

you would be lying if you said that it you weren’t a little salty that Hamzah never contacted you after the freak show tryouts but to be fair you never reached out to him either.

You just assumed that you were both so busy and consumed with the newfound fame, and subscribers.

and when time was right, you guys would cross paths again one day. and today was that day

Hamzahthefantastic

Hey long time no see! i seen that you’ve gotten really big over the last 4 years and me and martin were wondering if you wanted to come on our channel and do a video? it’s totally fine if you don’t want to but if you do feel free to message me.

your heart dropped to your ass. so now hampshire wants to collab after not talking to you for 4 years? yea he didn’t owe you anything, but it still hurts because you thought something could’ve happened there. But you’ve never chased no boy and you weren’t gonna start now. despite you feeling like he didn’t make an effort to talk to you, at least he contacted you now, and maybe something may grow between you two. you click the message confirming that it was the real hamzah and now you know u need to lock tf in

theoginstagrambaddie

hey hamzah, i would love to collab with you guys !! just lmk the details xx

……

2 days later you’re in the toronto airport with a fresh blond lace install. you didn’t even have to pay for your flight. right after you sent the message, hamzah he sent you the digital plane ticket. first class from LA to toronto, impressed wasn’t even the word.

You step out of the airport, the heavy doors sliding open with a quiet whoosh. The air smells different here, crisp and fresh, carrying a hint of salt from the sea. Your heart beats faster, each step your closer to the moment you’ve been dreaming of for years.

The crowd rushes around you, people pushing past each other, their voices blending into a hum. You clutch the handles of your cheetah print suitcases, your fingers tightening as your eyes scan the faces. And then you see him.

Hamzah.

He stands near the railing, hands stuffed into the pockets of his jacket, shifting on his feet like he doesn’t know what to do with himself. His hair is cut into an outgrown blond buzzcut, curling at the ends, his face is sharper, more grown-up than the last time you saw him through a screen. and.. way more muscular and built.

But his smile , that same crooked, awkward smile that no doubt always made you smile.

You freeze, a smile creeping onto your face. It’s like time stops, and suddenly you’re seventeen again, staying up late to watch his streams and videos. Your heart beats painfully, the weight of lost years pressing against your ribs.

He starts walking toward you, slow at first, like he can’t believe you’re really here. Then faster, until he’s right in front of you, close enough that you can see the slight tremble in his hands.

“Hey,” he says, voice soft but steady. His eyes search yours, and you wonder if he feels it too the invisible force pulling you closer.

“Hey,” you breathe out, barely able to speak past the lump in your throat. You want to say so much more, to tell him how you never stopped thinking about him, how your heart used to skip every time his name popped up on your phone.

But before you can, he pulls you into a hug. You melt into him, your face pressing against his shoulder, the scent of his cologne wrapping around you like a memory you never wanted to forget. His arms tighten, holding you like he’s afraid you might disappear.

“it’s so nice to finally meet you,” he whispers, voice breaking slightly.

You close your eyes, your heart pounding so loudly you’re sure he can hear it.

“it’s amazing meeting you too” you say, melting into the hug

….

You walk out of the airport, dragging your suitcase behind you, and before you can even think about how heavy it feels, Hamzah rushes over

“Let me get that,” he says, grabbing your luggage. He lifts it like it weighs nothing, and you catch yourself staring at his biceps flexing through his sweater

He throws the suitcase into the trunk and wipes imaginary sweat from his forehead. “I’m basically a bodybuilder now,” he says, flexing his arm, which shows lowkey a lot of muscle. “I should start charging for this.”

….

The car ride is quiet at first, the kind of quiet that makes your heart race. The city blurs past the windows, and every few seconds, Hamzah taps the steering wheel like he’s trying to figure out what to say.

“So,” he finally starts, glancing at you with a crooked grin, “how is the celebrity life treating you?” you visibly cringe at the word ‘celebrity’

“well you know it has its ups and downs, but i love making money for being myself. and also im definitely not a celebrity”

hamzah scrunches his face up “boi water you talking about you literally walked on the new york fashion week runway, was on the front cover of vogue, and went to the met gala what do you mean you aren’t a celebrity”

you sit there trying to come up with a quick comeback but you can’t..

“exactly, clock that” hamzah sticks his tongue out just a little bit

You roll your eyes, but you’re smiling, and your stomach flips every time he looks at you. The car smells like vanilla and maybe him, it makes your head spin.

He clears his throat “Anyway, we’re going to Martin’s for the collab. He’s already set up the lights and stuff. I told him not to make us look too ugly on camera, but, you know, he cant do nothin right”

You let out a loud laugh, and he grins, proud of himself. “i’m deadass so excited to meet martin, that’s my twin”

hamzah scrunches his face up at you again. at this point he’s acting sassier than chase.. “how is he your twin and you never even met him boi”

“i think you’re just hating.. lemme get the aux” you say going to apple music and connecting it to the car

“if your music taste is bad im taking your ass back to the airport” hamzah says as he turns the volume up, and as soon as he does Lipgloss by Charlie and Cupkkake starts bumping and yall get hype

after an hour of yall singing songs and catching up, you pull up to Martin’s house, and when Hamzah turns off the engine martin calls him. comes to find out him and mandy left to get lunch,

“shit i’m so sorry, if i would’ve known martin wasn’t here i would’ve taken you to your hotel”

“oh damn, i actually didnt even book a hotel, i meant to text you and ask you which one i should book, bcs i’ve never been here before”

“no worries i have the perfect one, ill pay for it.” hamzah said casually while typing on his phone

“you don’t have to do that hamzah you already paid for my flight here, i don’t like people spending a lot of money on me”

he puts his hand up “i’m already paying for it. you deserve to enjoy canada while you’re here. it’s the least i can do since i was stupid and didn’t contact you for four years”

Your heart starts pounding, and all you can do is look at anywhere but him and hope he doesn’t hear how loud your heart is beating.

“it didnt bother me,” you obviously lied. “we both just got caught up in fame, dont stress yourself out about it” you said while you fidgeted with you nails

“no but that’s the thing, it has been stressing me out. i guess i never reached out because i thought that you were so out of my league, and it would be weird if i confessed liking you since we only met online, and i knew nothing about you” hamzah confessed lowly

you didn’t know how to respond, so you acted out of impulse and kissed him

hamzah is caught off guard by the sudden kiss, but he quickly responds, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you closer.

"wait-" he starts to say, but cuts himself off as he deepens the kiss. He pulls back after a moment, breathing heavily. “we just met, i don’t wanna make you feel uncomfortable” you shake your head “you aren’t hamzah i want this”

"Fuck it, that’s all i needed to hear. I've wanted to do that for so long." he interrupts himself, kissing you again, this time with more passion. He moves his hand to your cheek, cradling it gently as he continues to kiss you.

"God, I've dreamed about this," he murmurs against your lips, breaking the kiss for a moment. "You're so damn beautiful." he says, his voice filled with emotion.

A low, strangled groan escaped Hamzah's throat as you climbed into his lap, straddling him in the driver's seat. He could hardly believe this was real, that you wanted him as much as he wanted you. His hands flew to your hips, gripping them tightly as he pulled you unimaginably closer to him

"Shit" he grunted, feeling your soft ass mold against him. He was already getting hard, his cock twitching and swelling in his jeans as you sat on top of him. "You can't just... fuck..." He panted softly, his eyes dark and intense as they roamed over your face.

One hand slid up your side to cup the swell of your breast through your top, giving it a gentle squeeze. He could feel how your nipple stiffened under his palm, and it made him groan again.

"Tell me you want this too,", his voice low and heavy with need. "Tell me I'm not imagining this." Because damn, he needed to hear you say it. He needed confirmation that you felt the same way. “hamzah, i need you” you whimper as you slide off your top

hamzah's eyes widen as you remove your shirt, revealing your perfect frame and cleavage. "shit" he breathes, his hands immediately going to your waist.

"You're perfect." he says, burying his face in your chest, inhaling your scent. He kisses and nuzzles your chest before lifting his head up to look at you.

"can i take this off" he begs, his voice husky with desire. “yes please” now you wouldn’t call yourself “easy” but in this case.. it’s hamzah

He reaches behind you and unclasps your bra, pulling it off and tossing it aside. "oh god" he mutters, taking in the sight of your bare, pierced boobs. "So fucking beautiful."

Without hesitation, he leaned down and wrapped his lips around the stiff peak of your nipple, sucking and swirling his tongue around the sensitive bud.

“Fuck, baby," you groaned as he licked around your nipple, his other hand gripping your ass tightly, pulling you harder against his straining boner. He was rock hard now, his cock throbbing with the need to be inside you.

But he tried to focus on worshipping your tits, determined to show you how much he adored your sexy body.

He switched to your other breast, giving it the same treatment. Sucking, licking, and lightly biting the sensitive skin as he groped and caressed every inch of your skin.

"Your tits are fucking perfect," he murmured, his voice muffled and heavy with lust. you’re a moaning mess, you never thought in a million years you would let someone do this when you “just met”

but the years of pent up attraction, and a bit of anger led you to not giving a fuck anymore. you want hamzah, and he wants you “hamzah please i need it”

Hamzah's heart raced as he heard the desperate plea in your voice, feeling you tremble with need in his lap. He knew exactly how you felt and he was just as desperate, just as turned on. The way youre grinding on his hard cock was driving him insane with lust.

"Fuck, you're killing me baby," he groaned, finally pulling his mouth away from your perfect tits reluctantly. He gazed up at you with eyes that burn with desire, his chest heaving. "Tell me what you need, baby. Tell me how to make you feel good."

His hands slid down to the hem of your short skirt, slipping underneath to grip the soft cheeks of your ass. He squeezed and slapped the it, pulling you harder against him as he rocked his hips up to meet yours.

"Is this what you need, baby? You want me to fuck you right here in the car?" he growled, his voice low and rough with lust. "I'll give you whatever you want. Just say the word."

“hamzah.. please fuck me” you plea in desperation

that’s all he needed to hear because In one swift, almost violent motion, he slid down his sweats, freeing his massive, throbbing cock. It sprang out, slapping against his abs, leaving a smear of precum on his skin.

“can i?” he begged, tugging on the side of your thong, and as soon as you nodded he yanked your panties to the side "Fuck, baby, you want this big cock inside this tight little pussy?" he snarled, gripping your hips tightly as he positioned you over his straining erection.

“are you sure you’re ready?” hamzah checks despite you saying yes the other times, and again you immediately nod your head yes

as soon as you give him permission he burys himself to the inside of your tight, velvety walls. A strangled moan tore from his throat as your slick heat engulfed him, squeezing his cock like a vice.

your eyes instantly roll to the back of your head in pleasure "Ohhh fuck, baby" he cried out, his head falling back against the headrest as he savored the feeling of finally being inside of you. "You're so fucking tight, baby. Shit, you feel amazing..."

He started to move, thrusting up into you roughly, digging into you over and over, his hands gripping your hips hard enough to leave bruises. The pornographic sound of skin slapping against skin filled the car as he fucked you, chased by your cries of pleasure.

"Yes, just like that Hamzah! Don't stop," you whimpered, your nails digging into his shoulders as you held on for dear life. your hips met his brutal thrusts eagerly, taking him as deep as he could go.

"Shit, your pussy is gripping me so fucking tight," he grunted, sweat beading on his brows from the speed he was going . "I'm not gonna last long if you keep squeezing me like this."

He slid a hand down between your connected bodies to rub at your clit, wanting to feel you come undone on his cock. "Come on baby, cum for me. I wanna feel this pussy cum on my dick" he demanded, his voice a low, lust-filled growl.

The car shook with the force of his thrusts, the windows fogging up from the heat of your love making. “shit h-hamzah i’m gonna cum”

"shit, yea baby, cum for me, I want to feel this pussy clench around my dick” he groaned, slamming up into you harder and faster, driven by your approaching orgasm.

one hand was rubbing furiously at your swollen clit, feeling it throb and pulse under his touch. and the other makes its way to your throat. He could tell you was right on the edge, your velvety walls starting to and tighten around his throbbing dick.

"That's it, mama. Let go for me," he encouraged you softly, his voice strained and heavy with his own building orgasm. his hand slightly tightened around your neck causing your orgasm to crash down, which made your mouth gape open and let out a long moan

hearing, and feeling your orgasm caused his cock to pulse and twitch inside you as his own climax approached rapidly. and with a long pornographic whimper Hamzah thrusts up one final time, his thick cock pulsing and throbbing as it unloaded rope after rope of his hot, sticky cum deep inside your fluttering pussy.

"shit, shit, shit" he shook, his body shuddering and jerking uncontrollably as the most intense orgasm of his life crashed through him.

As the waves of his climax began to subside, Hamzah slumped back against the driver's seat, panting harshly. He pulled you down for a sloppy, desperate kiss, all tongues and teeth and passion. "Holy shit," he finally gasped out, cupping your face in his hands. "That was... fuck. That was incredible."

He searched your eyes, searching to find any regret. "You okay? im sorry if went too hard” you shook your head instantly “no hamzah, that was amazing”

hamzah slowly lifted you off of his lap and gently sat you on the passenger seat and scurried to get some napkins. you open the ceiling mirror and see that you mostly still look good.

“i don’t want this to make things weird, i actually want us to be something more” hamzah looks at you deeply, meaning every word he said while wiping your thighs. you smile sweetly at him “i want that too hamzah”

“what do you want to eat?” he says while starting the car up again.

[probablyasocialecologist]

The economies of the US, Canada, and the European Union depend on immigrant labor. As Harsha Walia documents, the purpose of the border regime is not to stop immigration but to control and terrorize it. When Germany decided in 2015 to take in over a million refugees from the Syrian civil war, it was only because the largest association of German employers had just declared that the national economy faced a shortfall of millions of skilled laborers. But at no point did the German government allow direct flights from Turkey or Lebanon, where so many of the refugees were warehoused. Instead, they obligated refugees to make the expensive and perilous journey over the Aegean Sea, through the Balkans, under and over razor wire fences, through police truncheons and tear gas, past violent, xenophobic crowds, so that finally they would arrive with almost nothing, willing to accept any labor conditions and bureaucratic controls. It was a journey that cost on average several thousand euros, on top of the steep psychological price, effectively ensuring that primarily only members of the university-educated middle class would be able to make it.

Peter Gelderloos, The Solutions are Already Here

[hgfictionwriter]

Self Control: Part Nine - Babymoon

Jessie Fleming x Reader

Summary: Jessie takes you up to Canada to visit her family and for a relaxing trip out to cottage country. Her parents are thrilled to see you and to - technically - meet their first grandchild. The problem? They just won't leave you two alone.

Warnings: G!P sex. Masturbation (r), fingering, oral, g!p penetrative sex, preg and breeding kinks, dirty talk, language.

A/N: J and R are horny, y'all. The rest of the series can be found here.

“I used to play hockey at that arena. The locker rooms were terrible. Oh, and I used to run track over there. And you see that store down the way - it used to be this little hobby shop and my dad used to take me there sometimes to buy models or crafts.”

Jessie pointed enthusiastically out the windows of the rental car as she drove you both to her parents’ home from the airport. She’d brought you to her childhood home a handful of times by now, but she never tired of showing you the sights even if you’d seen them all before.

“You’re adorable,” you told her as you watched her affectionately. “And yes dear, I remember. Pregnancy brain hasn’t hit me that hard yet,” you chuckled.

“Oh and that house had the best candy at Halloween,” Jessie went on, undeterred. You laughed.

“Well look at the size of that house. They definitely had full-size-candy-bar money,” you joked.

“I can’t wait until I can take our daughter around town and show her some of these places. And soon enough she’ll have memories like these of her own.”

You smiled softly at her, kissing her hand before resting it on your belly.

“Has she settled a bit?” Jessie asked as she rubbed your bump.

“Yeah, the drive seems to be keeping the activity to a minimum compared to the flight,” you chuckled. “That was the most active she’s ever been. She either loves flying or hates it. Not sure which.”

“Everything seems okay though?” Jessie asked, concern creeping in.

“Yeah, I feel fine. I’m only at 24 weeks, the midwife said I’m well within the safe zone for flying.”

She smiled and relaxed as you gave her arm a reassuring squeeze.

“Alright, we’re here,” Jessie announced as she pulled into the driveway. “I’ll get the bags. You just go in. They said the door’s open. Plus they were probably staring out the window the whole time waiting,” she laughed.

“Their first grandchild is technically visiting,” you said with a smirk. “Of course they’re excited.”

Jessie chuckled. “Yeah, imagine what they’ll be like after she’s born.”

She gave you a peck on the cheek before bounding out of the car and jogging over to your side. She opened your door with a very satisfied smile on her face, counter to the mild glare you gave her. She held out her hand, which you dutifully ignored as you climbed out, somewhat more encumbered than weeks before and it requiring a bit more effort.

“I don’t need help yet,” you said under your breath to her and Jessie just kissed your cheek again. You gave her a teasing look. “You’re just trying to look good in front of your parents.”

“What? I-”

Her words were cut off when her parents opened the door and greeted you both boisterously.

“Oh my gosh,” her mom cooed moments after giving you a hug and immediately had her hands on the swell of your midsection and began asking you rapid-fire questions.

“Mom,” Jessie chided. She was about to interject further when she noticed her dad hauling the bags out of the trunk. “Dad!” She rounded and ended up going shoulder to shoulder with him, jockeying for the leverage and space to grab the bags.

“Oh, you two,” her mom scolded mildly before placing an arm around your back. “Come on, Y/N, let’s get inside. We’ll let these two duke it out.”

After an initial visit with her parents and a quick walk around as they showed you both new things around the house, Jessie and you were free to get settled.

Despite your protests to help, Jessie lugged all of the bags up the stairs to her old bedroom where you’d both be staying.

"Sure you don't want to stay in the guest bedroom?" She asked one final time with a discerning look. It would be much more comfortable. It had a bigger bed and its own bathroom - a very valuable perk as you now got up almost every night to go to the bathroom - but you were insistent on staying in her old room. You said it was sweet being surrounded by remnants of her younger self.

"I'm positive," you said without hesitation as you walked in.

Even though she hadn’t lived at home in many years now, her parents left her room exactly the same. Her old medals and trophies were still there, old pictures and trinkets of hers were still neatly displayed around the room.

“Oh, I love it,” you said as you clasped your hands together under your chin and looked around. “So cute. I can’t get over it,” you said as you held up an old picture of her and some friends. “I really, really hope she has your freckles,” you went on before giving her cheeks a light pinch, and pulling a feigned glower out of her.

“Thanks for being okay stopping here for a few days,” Jessie said as she sat down on the bed. “My parents and grandparents have been begging me to bring you back forever, never mind now,” she said as she pulled you by the hand towards her and kissed your stomach.

“Of course, baby,” you told her as you stroked her face and pushed her hair behind her ear. “I’m happy to be here.”

“The family stuff’s going to be pretty full on, but you’ll get to relax when we head to the cottage, I promise.”

“I’m not worried,” you assured her as you continued to run your fingers through her hair. Jessie lifted your shirt and kissed your stomach furthermore.

“Okay, cool it,” you ordered as you gently pushed her head away. “You know how I’ve been lately. And yeah, not the time and place. Agreed?” You finished with a look of warning.

She sighed heavily as she leaned back on her hands, arms outstretched. “I know,” she said though her gaze lingered on your body. When you folded her arms across yourself, inadvertently emphasizing your growing bust, she belatedly forced herself to look up at you.

“Jess. I’m not kidding. I am not having sex in your childhood bedroom, okay?”

She made a slight face in mock contemplation. “Well, I did suggest we take the guest bedroom…”

You scoffed and turned away briefly before rounding on her again, arm outstretched and circling the air in gesture.

"You can't even sit like that. Okay? Cause seeing you leaned back like that just makes me want to drop to my knees and suck you off."

Jessie's eyes grew wide at the blunt declaration while your words threatened to cause her blood to pump strictly between her legs. You scoffed further and walked away, leaving Jessie to jump up after you.

“I’m sorry. I understand. I’ll be good, I promise.”

"Mhmm," you voiced flatly. She nearly sighed; she was in the doghouse again.

You ignored her a while longer as you both returned to catching up with her parents. At one point her parents suggested a board game and Jessie went downstairs to pick one out and was relieved when you piped up saying you'd join her.

She matched your pace on the stairs, though she hopped down from step to step. She jumped and turned mid-air landing in front of you at the base of the stairs with a smile on her face though you just rolled your eyes.

"Must be nice to be so spry," you deadpanned.

She held out her hand to you and stepped out of the way giving a small bow. When you side-eyed her and gave a noncommittal hum as you walked on, her face fell in a frown of disappointment.

"Where are we going?" you asked.

"This way," she said, more subdued as she led you to an adjacent room. She turned on the light and pointed out the collection, but turned to face you right after. "Why are you upset with me?" She pouted.

"I'm not upset with you," you responded evenly. The way you examined the board games instead of looking at her did little to reassure Jessie.

"You seem upset. And I don't know what I did wrong," she went on.

You were leaned down slightly, hands on your knees as you determinedly studied the game collection, but straightened now and looked her way, your expression unreadable. Jessie frowned as you looked past her for a moment.

Before she could question you, you grasped her hand and pulled her towards you. You took her hand and guided it under the waistband of your pants and underwear until her fingers were against your hot, wet heat.

"Do I still seem upset to you?" You whispered in her ear as your other arm went around the back of her shoulders and pulled her close. Her knees gave slightly as she was overcome by the feel of your arousal and warm breath against her skin.

"Fuck," she said as her eyes closed as she began to automatically stroke her fingers through your swollen folds. "Oh my God, babe."

"I'm horny. And I want you. And I can't do anything about it," you said matter of fact. "That's all."

Jessie's eyes were still closed as she inadvertently began to grind her hips up into you while her fingers continued to explore. She gently circled your clit and wrapped her arm around your back securely as your own knees weakened.

"God, baby, I want you inside of me," you whined under your breath as you subtly rocked against her hand. Goosebumps rose across Jessie's skin as you softly panted in her ear; fingers on one hand running through her hair while your other hand groped her ass needily.

"Kiss me," you ordered as you pulled her head into you. She readily complied, her mouth clashing into yours in a messy, wanting kiss.

Jessie felt that all too familiar tightness forming in her pants as she began to harden. If you two were at home, she would've undressed you and fucked you the way you wanted. However, given current circumstances - there was no way.

She listened for noises beyond your whispers and moans. Hearing nothing, she sunk two fingers inside of your waiting tunnel. She pulsed at the sharp inhale you took and the way you melted into her embrace.

The angle was certainly tougher than months prior, she had to position herself around your burgeoning bump and she couldn't get as deep as she wanted with both of you standing like this, but it didn't seem to bother you.

While you wrapped an arm around her shoulder for balance, you let yourself fall into her waiting hand rhythmically, trusting her to hold you up and she did just so.

"God, baby, you're flooding my palm already," she breathed as she burrowed her head against you and curled her fingers inside of you furthermore. She was rock hard as, despite your efforts, the odd repressed, high-pitched whimper filled her ears.

"Shit!" She cursed as suddenly loud steps began to boom down the stairwell. You rapidly pulled away from one another, both wide-eyed with panic as you both tried to recover.

You quickly adjusted your clothes and fixed your hair. Your cheeks were flushed, but there was nothing to do about that. Jessie glanced at the very obvious bulge in her pants and at her fingers and palm that were coated in your juices.

"How's it going in there?" Her dad called from the other room. "I'm grabbing a couple of photo albums. Y/N, I can show you those pictures of Jessie at the science fair in elementary."

Jessie was still overwhelmed with panic and before she could determine what to do, you took a quick glance at the door before you stepped forward and grasped her hand. You held it up, locking eyes with her before placing her fingers in your mouth and very sensually bobbing your head up and down as you sucked them clean. Jessie's jaw fell at the feel and sight, her cock pulsing once more.

"Amazing! I'll come check them out with you," you called back once you released her fingers from your mouth.

"Babe," she hissed, though all she wanted was to feel your lips around her length.

You smirked and wiped her palm on the inside of your shirt before heading to the door. You were nearly there when Jessie's dad rounded the doorframe. She dropped into a crouch, back angled towards the door as she feigned looking at the games again.

"You two still haven't picked anything?" He asked as he arched an eyebrow. "Well, come on, Y/N, I'll start by showing you pictures first."

"Sounds good to me," you said as you and her dad departed. Jessie watched you subtly over her shoulder and glared when you waggled your fingers at her in a teasing wave with a wink.

It took her longer than she'd like to admit to recover. When she finally deemed it safe to head upstairs, her heart warmed at the sight of you on the couch with her parents poring over childhood pictures and listening attentively as they shared various, albeit, embarrassing stories.

Normally, she'd be bothered by the tales, but all she could focus on was the meeting of these two families of hers - the one she was born into and the one she was making with you.

You were together in the kitchen later and you sidled up to her, your arm brushing against hers as you whispered.

"Seems you recovered okay."

Jessie shot you a half-hearted glare. "Barely. I don't know how you're surviving." She leaned in, keeping an eye out for either of her parents, "From the way you were tightening around me, the way you were whimpering in my ear, seems you were pretty close." She held back a grin at how your shoulders fell and a faint, low groan escaped you.

You reciprocated, leaning back into her, your breath sending shivers down her spine.

"You better finish what you started, that's all I can say."

"Girls! Do you want some crackers to carry you over until dinner?"

Jessie groaned, jaw clenching in frustration as her mom's voice filtered in. Her annoyance dissipated slightly as you kissed her cheek.

The rest of the afternoon was filled with fleeting, hidden flirtations - all interrupted by her parents without fail. At the end of the night, you were all sitting in the living room watching a movie together, Jessie and you sitting together under a blanket on the couch with her parents on the other.

Jessie did her damn best to ignore the way your hand very subtly caressed her leg, inching so slowly towards the inside of her thigh. She shot you a few, increasingly less subtle looks of warning as you continued your incognito explorations.

At one point, Jessie felt herself start to grow firm and she cleared her throat, shuffling slightly away from you. She ignored the look you gave her.

She thought things were in the clear until you quietly excused yourself. Her parents offered to pause the movie, but you insisted they keep watching. Jessie's eyes followed you as you ducked upstairs.

She fidgeted for a while until she felt enough time had passed that she could reasonably excuse herself as well, also insisting that her parents keep watching.

Quietly padding down the upstairs hall, she frowned as she scanned the doors - seeing you weren't in the bathroom. Her bedroom door was closed though.

She gingerly opened it, peeking her head around the door and was met with a shadowy visual of you on the bed, legs spread, your hand between your legs. You met Jessie's shocked gaze, yours entirely unfazed, your motions not faltering, clearly knowing it would be her walking in.

Her jaw was slack yet again that day as she stepped inside quickly and closed the door quietly behind her. The second the door closed, you allowed soft moans to fall from your mouth.

"Jesus Christ, babe," Jessie whispered as she approached.

"I was hoping you'd follow me," you said. "I couldn't wait any longer."

No coherent thoughts ran through her mind as her eyes raked over your naked form in the pale moonlight. The curve of your breasts shone in the glow, your darkened nipples drawing her attention. And the ever growing roundness of your stomach caught the light just so, casting a shadow between your legs that was only illuminated every time your wrist moved as you played with your clit. She could hear how wet you were as opposed to seeing it, and the sound alone caused her to start to swell.

She hooked her arms under your thighs and pulled you to the edge of the bed as she settled wordlessly between your legs, hooking yours over her shoulders. Wasting no time, she buried her face in your wet folds, tongue wide and soft as she began to lap up the juices that dripped from your entrance.

You immediately let out a high moan, but you both stopped right away, your hands coming to your mouth in surprise, but to also muffle anything further. Jessie waited a few moments to let you recenter, but your hand coming to the back of her head told her the break was over.

She began to hungrily eat you out, her tongue pushing inside of you, circling your entrance, tracing up and down between your folds, tongue firm, then soft, over and over before flicking across your clit while she sucked.

Muffled whines came from you as your legs tensed and relaxed intermittently around her head. Your fingers dug into her crown, tugging her hair sharply now and then before releasing and caressing her and starting all over.

Eventually, you shifted slightly, tugging at her hair differently than before.

"I need you," you said as you signaled for her to stand. She quickly rose to her feet, undoing her pants and dropping them to the floor along with her boxers. She glanced at the bed for a moment, grabbing you a pillow and tucking it under your hips.

"Sorry," she said for not thinking of it sooner.

You didn't say a word, instead grabbing her by her hard on and pulling her towards your entrance.

"Okay, baby," she said, holding back a chuckle at your eagerness. She lined herself up and pushed herself forward, slipping inside of you effortlessly with how worked up you were.

"Oh Jesus," Jessie mumbled, eyes fluttering shut as you wrapped around her. "Fuck," she breathed as she drew her hips back and began to thrust into you with slow, firm strokes.

Your hands came up to your face, fingers digging into skin as a long, soft moan fought its way up your throat.

"God, I love you," you said, head thrown back. "I needed you so badly."

"I need you, too, baby," she said as she began to gradually pick up her pace.

"Fuck me harder, baby," you pleaded as you moved your hands to the back of her neck and pulled her into a kiss, Jessie needing to angle herself around your swollen middle. "I need you."

"Mm," Jessie groaned as she rolled her hips as she thrust into you. "I can't. I want to - God, I want to. But we can't be loud."

"I just want you to fuck me," you told her desperately as you began to claw at the back of her neck. A muffled cry fell from her lips as the sensation, arching her back over you, a hand subconsciously resting on the side of your bump. She went to lift herself back up so there was zero risk of her weight on your stomach, but you pulled her back up. "I want you with me."

Jessie nodded, angling herself again despite how uncomfortable it was, but if that's what you wanted and needed, then she'd gladly do it.

Despite what her mind told her, Jessie began to pump faster into you. The bed jostled, but it didn't creak. The loudest thing was the sounds that came each time she withdrew to the tip before driving her full length back inside of you. A small grunt escaped her as she dug her fingers into your thigh.

"I love you," she panted above you. "God, you're amazing."

You kissed her hard, but pulled back with a breathy laugh.

"How many girls have you fucked in this bed?"

"Huh?" Jessie frowned, blinking as she processed your question though her hips didn't falter.

"I said," you grasped her chin gently and bit her lower lip, giving it a tug, "how many girls have you fucked in this bed?"

"N-none," she responded, a deeper frown etched on her forehead. You knew better. You knew her whole history. Including the fact that she didn't get laid until university.

"Well lucky me," you said, a lilt in your voice as you traced your tongue along her lip.

Jessie chuckled, finally leaning back, grasping your legs and holding them out - careful not to do so in a way that'd strain you. She looked down at you as she fucked you and a smug smirk crossed her face.

"You're the only one in a lot of ways, babe. Definitely all the ways that count." She told you. You bit your lip and she went on quietly. "The only girl my whole family's met. The only girl I've bought a house with. The only girl I've given a ring to. And certainly," she rolled her hips in emphasis as she let her hands caress your stomach, "the only girl I've given my baby to."

"Oh fuck," you said, your voice barely a whisper as you draped an arm across your eyes, "I'm gonna cum. Don't stop."

Jessie was nearly on the verge as well as she did as she was commanded. She saw the way you bit down on your lip and buried your head into the sheets. You were so close.

"Girls! Is everything okay? Is Y/N? alright?"

"Oh fuck," Jessie hissed and you bit back a groan as footsteps ascended the stairs. Her hips stuttered as she fought between throwing caution to the wind and just chasing your high and stopping altogether. She looked down at you and you'd begun playing with your clit, hips still rocking against her.

Her voice got caught in her throat as pleasurable sensations shot through her as you began to convulse around her, squeezing her tight as your pussy pulsed around her. Her mouth opened and she blinked rapidly as she fought to react.

"Yeah, we're fine!" She eventually managed, your fingers now circling around her base and urging her to cum. She shot you a bewildered look as that familiar tightening and rush began to mount between her legs. She winced as the footsteps continued to approach. "We'll be down in a minute!" She called through the door, praying her voice wasn't as strained as it seemed in her head.

You continued to rock against her and suddenly her tension hit a peak and her jaw fell as she began to spill herself inside of you.

"Okay. We paused the movie. Come down when you're ready," her mom called.

"Thank you! We'll be down soon," you called through the door, finally coming to Jessie's aid as she instinctively held her hips flush against you, cum still pulsing inside of you, eyes screwed shut, her shoulders high and tense in the midst of the conflict between her physical and mental self.

When she finally came down from her climax, she dropped to her knees on the floor and between your legs, chest heaving as she recovered.

"That was mean," Jessie said as she glowered at you.

"The cum you dumped inside of me tells me otherwise," you said lightly as you pushed yourself off of the bed and began to get dressed. Jessie kept her eyes narrowed at you as she watched you. With a heavy breath, she hoisted herself up off the ground and began getting changed as well. She didn't take her glare off of you the entire time.

You walked up to her, unbothered, and rest a soft hand on her cheek as you gave her a peck.

"Look at us, sneaking around like a couple of horny teenagers," you said with a teasing smile before giving a nonchalant shrug. "It's actually kind of fun."

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

"Oh my God," you breathed as you fell into the couch cushions of the cottage you two were renting. Though you still had three months to go, your stomach had already grown enough that sometimes when you sat, you automatically sat with your legs wide to accommodate your bump that rest low above your hips.

"Are you okay?" Jessie asked as she set down the backpack from your hike onto the wooden floor with a light thud. She crossed over to you, crouching in front of you and gently kneading your leg.

"I'm fine," you sighed, allowing your eyes to fall shut as your hand came up and idly rubbed your stomach. "I think I just pushed it too much. It's so stupid - that hike wasn't even hard. It was a walk not a hike, yet my hips and my back are so sore."

"Baby, I'm sorry," Jessie said, a frown of concern settling on her face. "I shouldn't have picked that hike. And I should've checked in more."

"Stop," you said, head lolling languidly side to side in dissent. "I thought it'd be totally fine and you checked in; I just kept pushing." You opened your eyes to look at her, offering a faint smile. "I'm not in pain, I'm just a bit sore and uncomfortable."

She hummed quietly and rubbed your hips gently. You winced softly and her frown deepened.

"I'd run you a bath, but...," Jessie trailed off, gaze flitting away. Though beautiful, the one flaw with this rental was the failing hot water. It was lukewarm at best and ran cold within a few shorts minutes. She was beyond annoyed by it.

"It's okay, really," you assured her as you waved her attention off.

"Here, let me help you up. Go lay on the bed, I'll start a fire and I'll give you a massage," she offered. You cocked your head in contemplation before giving a slow nod. Jessie beamed. "Okay."

Soon, she had a fire roaring in the fireplace and you were naked on the bed with Jessie gently and meticulously working your muscles, laying soft sweet kisses on you now and then as she went.

"I'm telling you right now, nothing's happening tonight," you told her, eyes closed as you lay on your side, Jessie rubbing the small of your back. "I'm just too uncomfortable."

She held up a hand in mild defense. "Heard. Got it. No funny business. That is more than fine. I just want to make you feel better."

"K, thank you," you said as you blindly reached down, pawing until you found her hand. You lifted it to your lips, giving her a small kiss before releasing it and sighing as you settled in again.

Jessie carried on dutifully, truly just hoping to make you feel better. That is, until you reached back and started to caress her leg. She didn't think anything of it initially until you hand continued to wander higher up and inward when possible, fingers kneading into her muscles.

A frown settled on her face as she fought off the urges that were building between her legs. You began to moan softly at her ministrations, shifting slightly under her touch, and it was doing more to her than she cared to admit. However, the burgeoning hard-on forming in her shorts - the one that she was working to conceal from you - would give her away. She cleared her throat and refocused her attention on the wall, trying to think about anything but how good you looked and sounded.

With the fire roaring across the room, the light it cast against you accentuated your bump. She quietly observed the faint line that was forming from your naval to your pubic bone and the way the light danced across your skin.

It was such a strange sensation, a tingling in her chest upon seeing the way your body changed as the new life you two created grew within, and the way her arousal grew at knowing it was her who made you like this; that it was her you let transform you in this way.

"I changed my mind," you eventually said in a whine, legs rubbing together.

Jessie looked away, wondering what to do.

"About?" She asked innocently, though she was hopeful about what you were meant.

"You know what," you whined further, peeking an eye open at you.

"...you sure?" she asked apprehensively. "Cause there's no pressure at all."

"Your tented shorts tell me otherwise, baby," you said teasingly. Jessie blushed madly, closing her legs and timidly shuffling away from your prying eyes.

"Ignore that," she mumbled.

"I don't want to. I want it in me," you said resolutely, reaching back for her.

"Babe...," Jessie went on. "You're sore already."

"You took such good care of me. I feel better," you assured her. She gave you an unconvinced look and you implored. "I'm serious, baby. I want you."

Jessie hesitated further, but when you placed her hand between your legs, her fingers immediately being met with your arousal, she caved.

"Okay, but, you just stay like that, I don't want to strain you at all," she said as she took off her clothes and settled in behind you. She kissed the back of your shoulder and wrapped her arm around your stomach, thumbing it affectionately as she spooned you.

She continued laying slow, sensual kisses along the back of your shoulder, smirking at how you began to writhe in her arms.

"Baby, please."

She gave you one more lingering kiss before she pulled her hand back to line herself up with your entrance.

"Since you asked so nicely," she said, as she slowly entered you. You gasped softly as you reached a hand back over your shoulder to run your fingers through her hair.

"Mm, you feel so incredible every time," Jessie praised as she slowly drew back and pushed in again. She reached around your swollen midsection and placed her hand between your legs to gently play with your clit.

"Oh God, Jess," you said as you writhed under her touch. You moaned. "Mm, you feel so good inside of me." You leaned your head back into her and she pulled you closer as she pushed deeper inside of you.

She kissed along your back softly, your body rocking within her embrace as she made love to you in the warm glow of the nearby fire.

Eventually, Jessie propped herself up on her forearm to look down at you. As nice as it was to hold you in her arms, she missed seeing your face as you made love.

She shifted further, pulling out momentarily as she knelt, knees wide and now leaning over you, one arm behind you and one arm in front.

"Mmm," you complained, a frown on your face as you looked at her. "I liked being held by you." She kissed your shoulder as she lined herself up again.

"Let me try this," she said as she pushed inside.

You moaned as she sunk deep into you. In this new position, she was free to angle her hips better and a few strokes in, she began to pick up her pace, something she couldn't easily do before.

A renewed moan fell from your lips, your mouth dropping open as Jessie held herself up over you and began to thrust steadily and deeply inside of you, her hips free to bounce easily and quickly in this position, while still not adding weight or stress to your body.

"Oh shit," you panted as she fucked you with fervour, sweat starting to bead around her hairline.

"God, you look fucking beautiful," Jessie said as she stared down at you adoringly. "You look even more amazing carrying my baby than I even imagined."

Your hand came up to the back of her neck and you moaned heavily.

"I can't believe I waited so long to let you get me pregnant," you said, hand still caressing the back of her neck. Jessie groaned, eyes closing briefly.

"You know what that talk does to me," she said as her pace quickened slightly.

"It's crazy to think about," you went on. "Back when we first met - to think I was sitting across from the woman who - in a few years - I'd be underneath, legs spread, begging her to pump her baby into me."

"Christ," Jessie cursed as she gave a slight shake of her head, trying to hold back her orgasm which was now rapidly approaching as your words egged her on.

Your other hand came to your stomach and caressed it.

"We don't even have our first yet and I already want you to give me another."

"Babe," Jessie said desperately, her hands clenching into fists on the mattress. "I'm gonna cum if you keep that up."

"Do it. Cum inside of me, I want you to," you said as your fingernails dug into the back of her neck.

She didn't want to oblige, she hated cumming before you did. She balanced on one hand, returning the other to your clit, encouraged by how your eyes closed in pleasure and your sounds rose in pitch.

She felt a bead of sweat run down the side of her face and she panted in effort, but she knew you were close. When you finally clutched the sheets and a cry fell from your lips, she couldn't help herself and she came with a stunted moan, legs spreading wider as she angled and pushed herself as deep inside of you as she could.

"Fuck," she panted, head falling back as she looked up at the ceiling, blinking rapidly as wave after wave of pleasure shot through her as she emptied herself into you. As the last few drops drained out of her, she gave a couple of slow, prolonged thrusts before collapsing next to you, her arm draped over your midsection.

When she came to, she laid slow, gentle kisses along your waist and up your body, finishing at your flushed cheeks. Her heart swelled as she looked at you.

“I love you.”

[nomorekyriarchy]

It's paywalled so here's the article:

Royal Ontario Museum board director steps down after links to deportation flights surface

The director of the Royal Ontario Museum's (ROM) board of governors has stepped down after Canada's National Observer asked about his business’ links to deportation flights by US Immigration and Customs Enforcement (ICE). Caitlin Coull, the vice-president of communications for the museum's Board of Governors, confirmed in an email Wednesday that Christopher W. Jamroz has left his role with the board. Jamroz remains on the museum's list of honorary trustees, but the page listing his bio and photo have been removed from the ROM website. Jamroz joined the board in 2010, according to a news release at the time, and later donated $1 million to the museum. The links were initially reported by independent journalist Rachel Gilmore. Jamroz states on his website that he "has been a tenured mentor to students at Schulich School of Business" at York University. Yanni Dagonas, advisor and deputy spokesperson at York University wrote in an email the university can "confirm that Mr. Jamroz is not and was never employed by the York University Schulich School of Business in any capacity. He does not have any current relationship with the university." He added that he cannot speak to the term "tenured mentor" Jamroz uses on his website and that it "is not one that is used at York," but that Jamroz was "a mentor, a volunteer position, but not for several years." Jamroz is the executive chairman of GlobalX, a Miami-based charter airline that operates across the US, Caribbean, Europe and Latin America. Last year, 74 per cent of ICE's 1,564 deportation flights were on GlobalX planes, according to data collected by Tom Cartwright, an immigration activist. CSI Aviation, ICE's main aviation contractor who subcontracts to GlobalX, received in February a contract worth up to $151 million for "the deportation of aliens placed in federal custody." Jamroz is the executive chairman of GlobalX, a Miami-based charter airline that operates across the US, Caribbean, Europe and Latin America. Last year, 74 per cent of ICE's 1,564 deportation flights were on GlobalX planes. On March 15, ICE used three Global X flights to deport, without a hearing, more than 238 foreign nationals the Trump administration alleges belong to the Tren de Aragua gang and 23 alleged members of the MS-13 gang to El Salvador and Honduras. Those flights have become a touchstone of the controversy surrounding the administration's approach to immigration. Judge James E. Boasbag of the Federal Court of Washington issued a court order blocking the flights, but whether the order was issued in time is being debated by the government. The Trump administration has cited the Alien Enemies Act of 1798 to justify the removals without giving the alleged gang members a hearing.