#countless fridged women

[kbwrites]

TOXIC! Boyfriend Toji

Synopsis: you’ve been dealing with toji’s antics for far too long, but can you really ever quit him??

⚝content: toxic bf! Toji x f!reader, Toji is literally the worst, nsfw, mentions of cheating, makeup sex

⚝a/n: to all the Toji apologists: SAVE YOUR BREATH. He’s toxicccc. Love it though. I hate cheating but for him I’d drop a “he knows where home is”.

⚝wc: 2k

Toji Fushiguro.

Sorcerer Killer. Gun for Hire.

There wasn’t a job he couldn’t do, or wouldn’t take. His name whispered in the darkest corners of the underground. This last job though… went on longer than he’d expected. What was supposed to be “quick and easy” turned into three weeks of cat and mouse. Shadows and whispers, close calls and narrow escapes. Shui would be getting an earful when he saw him again.

He trudged lazily up the stairs to his shared apartment. Each step was heavy, the weight of countless sleepless nights bearing down on him. As he reached the top of the fourth-floor walk-up, a tinge of annoyance flashed upon his tired face as he saw—

All of his shit in black trash bags outside the door.

He fumbled for his key, shoving it into the lock, his irritation only grew when it didn’t turn.

You changed the locks.

Dating Toji Fushiguro for two years, you had been through a lot with him. But through all the ugly arguments, empty promises, heated breakups and subsequent make ups—you two would always find your way back to each other. The cycle as predictable as it was toxic.

He was terrible for you, at least that’s what your friends would tell you. Yet, there was something just so intoxicating about being with him. Like a drug you just couldn’t quit.

But this time, after he disappeared for three weeks, not even bothering to call or text—this was the very last straw.

You lay on the couch flipping through the channels when you heard the banging on the door.

“Hey! (Y/N) Open up!” The voice of your sorry excuse for a boyfriend boomed from the hallway. You rolled your eyes, not moving from your spot. You were done with Toji Fushiguro, finally realizing that he’d never change. You hoped he’d take the hint and leave, maybe go stay with that dumb brunette you caught him with the day after your one-year anniversary.

Instead, you only heard a series of faint metallic clicks before the doorknob turned open.

And in storms Toji, chest puffed out as he watches you nonchalantly surf the tv. His eyebrow quirks up expectantly, waiting for you to jump into his arms after being missing for a month, but instead, you just roll your eyes at him.

He strides over to you, blocking your view.

“You changed the locks.” He huffed.

“Yeah, that usually means don't come in.” Your sarcastic tone only fuels his anger. He glares as he towers over you.

“You’re actin’ like you didn’t miss me.” He chuckles. You stand up, walking away from him to the kitchen. He quickly follows behind you, leaning his muscular body against the doorframe.

“Actually? I didn’t. Three weeks of not worrying if you’d come home in a body bag. Not worrying if you were laid up with that bitch from downstairs. AND better yet not worrying about you gambling away all our money. Truly, it’s been perfect.”

Toji laughs, he fucking laughs at your comment. Only serving to irritate you even more.

“So y’er sayin’ I’m only good for givin’ you stress?” He taunts, a smirk playing at the corners of his mouth.

“Didn’t realize you grew a brain in three weeks.” You snap back, rummaging through the fridge for a beer. You pop the cap off, taking a sip. The cool liquid providing a brief, soothing distraction.

Toji watches you from the doorframe, his eyes dark with amusement secretly loving the way you got worked up over him. He was a toxic bastard and knew it. Thriving on the chaos he caused in your life.

“Most women would be happy t’see their man.” His tone mocking.

You scoff taking another swig. “You’re not my man anymore, Toji.”

“Is that what you think?” His eyes narrow, a dangerous glint appearing as he pushes off the doorframe, striding toward you with a predatory grace. He stops mere inches away, his rough hand grabbing your chin and forcing you to look up at him. His half-lidded eyes bore into yours, their intensity igniting the white-hot anger within you.

“Let. Go.” You spit, your voice trembling with barely contained fury. His grip loosens, taking a step back to look at you.

His eyes rake over your form, being away from his woman for so long wasn’t easy. And right now, dressed in a pair of shorts and tank top—you looked good enough to eat.

“I’m done, Toji,” you sigh, setting the beer bottle on the counter behind you. You pinch the bridge of your nose, trying to steady your breathing.

“Y’really think I’m gonna let you go just like that? After everything we’ve been through—“

“You promised you were done with that life, Toji! And for once, for ONCE I actually believed you.” Your voice rises, your anger spilling over as you clench your fists at your sides.

“You knew who I was when you met me.” He scoffs, crossing his strong arms across his chest.

“You’re right. And I’m finished.” You storm past him, your heart pounding in your chest as you head to your bedroom. You grab his backpack and return, shoving it into his chest. He grabs hold of your wrist, his anger bubbling up to match your own.

“Bullshit. You don’t want me gone. I know you don’t.” His eyes lock onto yours, his hold firm and unyielding. You try to wriggle free but fail as he pulls you closer to him.

“It’s that little bitch Yosuke isn’t it? You wanna leave me so you can go fuck that rich asshole?”

His mind whirs with the thought of your coworker, one he’d mentioned multiple times he hated.

His jaw clenches as he pushes you against the counter, your smaller frame now trapped between the marble countertop and your ex-boyfriend’s imposing body.

“You think any of those pricks in designer clothes could handle you? That they could give you what you need?” His voice is low, a dangerous growl.

“I want you OUT Toji.” Your hands come up to his broad chest, pushing against him, but he doesn’t budge. The pain in your voice is evident. He leans in closer, chest pressed against yours. The frustration—the tension at an all-time high. This wasn’t the first heated argument or time he’s left without word, but he knew that after everything was said and done; he’d eventually come home. And now that home had been stripped of all his things. Reduced to black trash bags.

He was so angry; you were such an infuriating woman. And yet, at the same time he wanted nothing more than to be here in this moment. Seeing you so fired up, so pissed off—makes his mind go crazy. His towering figure looms over you, your bodies impossibly close, you could feel each other's heart beats pounding in sync.

And there it was. The reason why you couldn’t ever really shake the habit that was Toji Fushiguro.

He pulls you into a hungry kiss, crashing his lips into yours. The intensity is overwhelming, a mix of anger, passion, and desperation. His hands are everywhere, rough and demanding. As he hoists you up, your legs instinctively wrap around his waist as he strides toward the bedroom, each step filled with purpose.

He drops you onto the bed, the mattress bouncing from the force. His calloused hands roam your body, feeling every inch of your scorched skin. You melt into his touch, already losing your breath. He smirks at you, his emerald eyes dark with desire

“Ohhh I get it, it’s been three weeks without me huh? All you need is some dick.” Your senses are overwhelmed with him. The familiar scent of his cologne mixed with sweat and the faint hint of blood makes your head spin.

“F..fuck you Toji” You hiss as his lips attack your neck, he smiles against your skin.

“M’gettin’ to that Doll.”

He really was a toxic bastard.

His hand reaches for the hem of your shirt pulling it off you, leaving your chest exposed to him. He looks at your bare chest with hungry eyes. Toji’s head delves down, capturing your breast in his mouth. He sloppily sucks as his tongue swirls your sensitive bud. His other strong arm holding your waist as he works his mouth on you.

You breath hitches in your throat, your hands finding their way to his hair. Nails dragging against his scalp, tugging as he moans into your chest. He releases your nipple from his mouth, looking up at your panting form.

“Missed you so much doll, you have no idea..” he mumbles, setting you down on the mattress as he crawls between your legs. His fingers hook around the waistband of your shorts, tugging them down with intense force.

He growls as he finally sees your sopping wet entrance. His own length straining against his pants. If it was up to him, he’d live and die between your plush thighs.

“No one’s touched my pussy while I was gone right?” He questions lowly. A hint of possessive anger in his voice as his brain imagines that idiot from your job touching what was rightfully his. He bites down onto your inner thigh.

“No! Only you, Toji!” You whimper as he nips and sucks at the skin between your legs. He moans as he hears those delicious words leave your lips. Wasting no more time he latches onto your clit, deep moan rumbling in your core as he tastes you for the first time in weeks.

Your back arches into the bed as his skillful tongue swirls around the bundle of nerves. He mumbles against your cunt.

“M’sorry baby… so fuckin’ sorry..” As his tongue lolls out to tease your entrance. His finger rubs your clit as his tongue fucks your weeping hole bringing you closer and closer to the edge.

He thinks it’s ridiculous, absolutely laughable that you would even think you could leave him. Why would you? When he knew exactly what to do to make you come undone?

Your body shakes as you reach climax, your essence coating his tongue. He greedily laps at your cunt, slurping up every drop of your slick. He climbs on top of you, kissing you hungrily—allowing yourself to taste just how good he could make you feel from just his tongue.

Pulling away, he looks at you smirking.

“M’not done with you doll, on your hands and knees.” You only half register his words, mind still hazy from your orgasm. He flips you over, pushing your head into the pillow.

You feel the head of his aching tip rub between your folds, gathering your slick before sliding into you. You both let out breathy moans as his thick cock is sucked in by your walls.

“Ffuccckk, missed this pussy so goddamn much.” He groans as he bottoms out. You whimper into the pillow as you feel him deep in your cunt. His large hand rests on the small of your back as he pumps into you. His strokes long and hard, heavy balls slapping your clit with each thrust.

“You know thump. That little bitch thump. Can’t fuck you like I can.” He bullies your cunt, anger and jealousy behind each thrust. He gives your ass a harsh slap, you yelp as he rubs the sting away.

He mumbles and drones on as you moan into the pillow, his hips stutter as he feels your walls clenching around him.

“Yeah doll, juuusst like that.” He grips your hair, yanking you up, flush against his chiseled chest as he pounds into you. “Who’s pussy’s this mama?” He whispers into your ear, hot breath and raspy voice sending shivers down your spine.

“Your’s Tojiii!” You whine as you cum on his cock. Your mind emptied, all the stress he caused disappeared as he fucks you through your orgasm, pistoning in and out of your pussy. His arm leaves your hair, wrapping it around your neck as he roughly thrusts up once more. You feel his length twitch inside of you as he cums.

You fall back onto the mattress, Toji’s weight sinks next to you, the bed dipping under his muscular frame. You turn over to look at him, his chest rising and falling heavily, glistening with a sheen of sweat that catches the dim light of the room. His black hair is tousled and damp, sticking to his forehead, a smile etched onto his scar-laden lips. He looked so good, too good.

He pulls you against his chest, placing a gentle kiss to your forehead. As he whispered lies into your ear. You knew his apologies meant nothing. That you’d probably be in the same exact position next month. He was a liar, a killer, but he was yours. Flaws and all.

“Y’still want me gone doll?”

[bloodwrittenballad]

The Egg Incident | Bradley Bradshaw x Reader

Summary: It turns out your husband is in fact very useful in the kitchen…

Warnings: Making out, suggestive themes, hint of smut at the end, married people banter, teasing, pranks, like one swear word? it’s short but fluffy and silly!! and not proofread!! i’m gonna list this as 18+, so minors, scram. based off a tik tok trend. okay bye <333

You saw it on tik tok, and you thought it was hilarious. Women from all over were posting videos of them using their husbands and boyfriends heads to crack eggs. It was genius, and the reactions were nothing short of amazing. You couldn’t help but imagine your own husband, Bradley, in this situation.

The mere thought already had you chuckling quietly to yourself, looking over at your sleeping husband as a smirk grew along your lips. Oh, you were so going to be trying it out in the morning. With a sigh and a small kiss to his nose, you settled in next to him for the night, cuddling into his side as an almost apology for the plan you’d be unfolding on him in the morning

Now, typically you weren’t an early riser. You liked sleeping in on your days off, but Bradley seemed to have other ideas. You woke up to your neck being pecked and tickled, no doubt by Bradley’s infamous mustache. His lips trailed gently down your shoulder as you turned to face him, a smile on your lips as you gazed upon your husbands pretty face. “Mornin’, you pretty little thing.” Bradley whispered along your skin as he continued bathing you in his love. “Morning to to you too, handsome. Someone’s in a good mood today,” you noted. “What? A man can’t show a little appreciation to his wife by waking her up with some lovin?” That had you giggling, as your hand reached up to hold his cheek. “Appreciation? Or desperation? Cause can’t seem to keep your hands to yourself this morning.” It was the truth. His hands hadn’t stopped roaming your body since the second you woke up, not that you minded of course. “Why you little-” Bradley began, but cut himself off as he lowered his mouth to yours once more.

And soon enough the two of you were in a heated make out, Bradley on top of you as he began making his way down to the needy spot between your legs. You were moaning, panting, clutching the white sheets in complete need as his jot breath fanned over your body like a sauna. And he was so close, so close to giving you what you wanted. But then- your stomach rumbled. Loudly. It sounded like a damn thunder storm, and Bradley couldn’t help but laugh at the sheepish look on your face as he began pulling away from you and stood up. You whined, making him chuckle more as he helped you out of bed. “Let’s get you some breakfast, baby, then I’ll have mine.” He said with a wink, leaving your mouth agape as he led to you the kitchen.

Once there, Bradley, of course, made himself comfy on the barstool by the counter. “What? You’re not gonna help me?” You teased with a knowing smile. Bradley wasn’t the best cook, to put it nicely. Hell, the man could hardly make toast without burning it. “I am helping!” Bradley defended, “I’m sitting here, all nice and pretty. I’m the eye candy,” he winked. And that he was, you agreed. As you looked him up and down, his abs on display as he was only wearing his boxers. With a playful scoff and shake of your head, you turned towards your fridge and began grabbing all the ingredients you needed for your breakfast. You began cooking, and once the time was right, you grabbed the eggs out of the fridge. That’s when a cheeky smile rose upon your features, as you remembered the countless tik toks you saw the night before. Your smile turned into a smirk, as you reached for a bowl and made your way towards Bradley.

Who, was watching you lovingly and was none the wiser as you padded your way up to him. You set the eggs and the bowl down, giving him a quick kiss. “Someone’s in a good mood,” Bradley copied your words from earlier, reciprocating the kiss. You had a sly smile as you said, “only because I have the best helper.” Bradley’s eyebrow quirked as you pulled away, but before he could say anything- wham!

The egg in your hand gently bounded across his forehead, “what the-” he watched as you smiled softly to yourself and mixed the egg into the bowl. “Baby, what the fu-” and then the second egg. He was left even more speechless as you walked back over to the burner, pouring the egg mixture into the pan. Your back was turned to him, so he couldn’t see the laugher you were trying to hold in as he stuttered out. “HUH?” Bradley finally croaked, and that’s when you lost it. You almost keeled over, laughing loudly as Bradley looked at you with wide and confused eyes.

“I am so lost right now, babe.” He said, walking over to your shaking with laughter figure. You sucked in a deep breath as you looked up at him, “see? now you’re not completely useless in the kitchen anymore!” You said with a small clap of your hands, before you went to turn around and focus on the stove. But before you could, Bradley was hauling you up in his arms, tossing you over his shoulder and matching you towards the bedroom. Not before he switched off the stove, of course.

“Bradley!” You squealed, playfully and lightly pounding your fists onto his back. “Let me down, my breakfast!” You whined, before Bradley tossed you onto the bed. “Oh baby, don’t worry, you’ll get your breakfast. Just not the one you were expecting.”

And then his boxers dropped to the floor.

[amiserableseriesofevents]

Hi! So, about that last ficlet you posted with John and his dad. Why????

I'm such a fan of things just not getting resolved a lot of the time because that's how real life works. But does John's mum or his sisters ever give his dad what's coming to him for how he treats John? What a painful, jarring family dynamic, and it's wonderful to read - but just wondered!

Hi!! Sorry for the late response 😅

So, the Egan women have always known about the strained relationship between John and his dad but they all thought, mostly Mrs Egan, that it would resolve somehow naturally. They've all been supportive of John's career since the beginning so they figured Mr Egan would also come to term with it sooner or later, especially now that things are finally going well — which as also what John was thinking before the ficlet.

In the period immediately after the fight John doesn't tell anyone in his family what happened because he doesn't really want to think about it, and also because his intention is not driving a wedge between his father and his mother and sisters; it all comes down when he refuses to come home for the holidays, maybe he avoids Thanksgiving with an excuse but when Christmas is approaching his mom starts asking him when he's gonna come, if he's gonna bring Gale with him, and so the inevitable confession happens. And oh, the Egan women are pissed.

They try to reason with Mr Egan, who of course tells them he never meant for John not to come home ever again, he was just trying to help him make a reasonable choice; he tries to pin it on John, saying it's him who doesn't want to see the family, that his penchant for drama has always been the problem and stuff like that. Mrs Egan tries to mediate between the two men but the girls immediately know that it's a lost cause and take John's side, organizing an alternative Christmas (maybe a dinner on the 24th whereas the family has always celebrated on the 25th) so they can see John (and Gale of course) without him having to meet the dad. Mrs Egan also joins them for this alternative Christmas and still tries to convince John to come for lunch the next day but he refuses.

John's sisters are still going to see their father, but less and less as the years go by; they come home for the holidays but if there's a choice between spending time with their dad or with John, they're always gonna choose John. They also keep supporting him and showing their support of him in front of their dad, loudly and enthusiastically like only an Egan can.

John's mum feels more caught in between because the man is her husband after all, they've raised three biological kids together and fostered countless others so she doesn't really understand what happened to him to make him act like that towards John. She still hopes things are gonna change, especially when John's career really takes off and his name starts appearing in national news, he gets casted in more important productions, etc. but when she understands that her husband is not gonna budge she gives up. She stays with him but feels very disappointed, she blames him for the wedge that has separated their family — and family has always been the most important thing for her.

She also keeps supporting John, goes to every premiere he has, she doesn't quite parade around her support for her son in front of her husband like the girls do but she's always there when it matters — and she cuts out all the articles about John and puts them on the fridge because she's more passive-aggressive than her children.

Eventually — and I'm talking many years after the end of Such Stuff, when John is already married (his father wasn't invited/was invited but decided not to go, I still have to think about it) and he's won some important awards like a freaking Tony — Mr Egan comes to terms with his son's choice and tries to reconnect with him.

He mostly does it because he realized having a son who's a famous actor, whose name is in the papers, who people often congratulate him about, is actually something good for his own image; John knows this is his main motivation, and he's not exactly thrilled about it, but after discussing it with Gale he decides to allow a bit more contact. He'll go home for Christmas lunches (the Christmas dinners on the 24th with his sisters and eventually their husbands continue, of course, it's the new tradition) and chat politely with his dad but he'll never invite him to a show again, not even when the man tries to feign interest in it.

Their relationship is gonna remain cold and formal, with his sisters on his side and his mum more in the middle but still fucking pissed at her husband.

Also, fun fact: his dad actually likes Gale a lot, especially because he has a reasonable career, so Gale enjoys it very much when the first time they meet he tells him that yeah, he's a teacher and he likes his job, but he also loves acting and it's thanks to John that he went back to it. Take that, Mr Egan.

Sorry if I rambled too much but I really love writing their family dynamic so yeah, you got me monologuing! 🥰🥰

[whump-card]

This Death That I Chose: Chapter 4

1618 words

CW: conditioning

First, Previous, Masterlist, Next

~~~

Lark was returned to bed and placed under 24-hour observation by a rotation of Watchmen. Becca begrudgingly thanked Tao for finding Lark before the boy got lost in the woods – though she made sure to point out that it was dumb luck. She softened, however, when she watched how tenderly Tao tucked Lark back into bed.

Then Tao went to see Marina Dolidze.

It was late in the evening, but when he approached the house where she and a handful of other women lived the lights were still on – low crank-lanterns and candles, kept away from the curtained windows. He knocked, and one of the residents opened the door. When he said he was looking for Marina, she smiled smugly, called up the stairs for the other woman, and disappeared as soon as Marina joined them.

“Uh, hi, Tao!” Marina tucked her long black hair behind her ear as she stood in the doorway. She was a curvy eastern European woman in her late forties, with… eyes the color of late-season honey. “What can I do for you?”

Tao did his best to remain calm – he was about to ask her something pretty awful and invasive, from her point of view.

“I have a huge favor to ask you,” he said, “It’s a bit personal.”

“Oh?” her eyes widened a little bit.

“Do you have any photos of your son, that I could see?” Tao asked softly.

“Oh, of course!” her apprehension abated, and she smiled and waved him forward, “Come inside!”

A bit thrown by how easily, even eagerly, she’d accepted his request, Tao followed her in. This house was an actual home, and felt comforting to be in; the living room had an overstuffed couch and armchairs covered in afghans and throw pillows, the coffee table bore books and magazines, and when she led him into the kitchen the fridge was covered in photos held up by novelty magnets.

“Take a seat, let me just…” she bent over and started plucking photos off the fridge while Tao sat at the kitchen table. She joined him a moment later, neatening the little stack she’d collected and scooting her chair closer to his.

“Okay, here he is with his friends, that’s Karlo in the middle,” she held up the first photo in the candlelight and pointed to one of the three boys pictured, “This was from when they went bowling, on his thirteenth birthday.”

Tao could only half-listen to the photo’s backstory as he stared. The boy pictured was undoubtedly Lark – younger, chubbier, and full of joy as he posed with his two friends in front of a neon-lit bowling lane.

“Karlo,” he echoed.

“Yeah,” Marina set down the bowling alley photo in front of him and picked up the next one.

“Oh, this one’s my favorite. A real photographer took this one, at one of his soccer games.”

Tween Lark – Karlo – was frozen in a bright and crisp action shot, about to kick a soccer ball.

“Yeah, that one’s really great,” Tao said, his words feeling empty.

“This one…” she held up the next, “This one is from after the war started, but we still found time to take pictures, I guess.”

It was Karlo, maybe fifteen, and an older man, each holding up a fish. Karlo looked a bit more world-weary here, but still had a shining smile.

“Is that his father?” asked Tao, pointing to the man in the picture.

“No, no,” Marina waved a hand, “That’s our neighbor. Karlo’s father was never involved in his life.” Their eyes met for a moment before Marina looked away, flushing. “Anyway…”

They worked their way through the remaining few photos, Tao finding himself genuinely eager to see them all. They fell silent for a while when they reached the end, staring at a Polaroid of Karlo and Marina hugging and grinning behind a candle-lit birthday cake. His eighteenth.

“It was just a few months after that, when…” Marina trailed off. She didn’t need to elaborate – it was a story Tao had heard countless times before. The Commander’s Military had arrived. They’d taken Marina’s town, and the only options were to submit, flee or die. Capture was nigh unheard of. Karlo was a strange exception.

“Did you, um,” Marina cleared her throat, “Did you find a body?”

Tao looked up sharply. He'd been so preoccupied with confirming his theory that he hadn’t thought of a cover story – and here she was, handing one to him.

“Uh, yeah, but… It’s not him.” He pressed the photo back into her hands. “But you shouldn’t give up hope, he might still be…”

She shook her head slowly. “You don’t need to say that. I know that…” she stared down at photos scattered across the table, “I’ve accepted that he’s gone.”

Tao froze. I could tell her. I could tell her right now. But those thoughts were interrupted by the memory of Lark’s face, how terrified he’d been at the idea of seeing his mother. It had driven him into a panic attack and fainting spell, for crying out loud. He wasn’t ready. Not yet. It wouldn’t be fair to him.

“Well, I’m… I’m sorry I bothered you over nothing,” Tao said, “I hope I didn’t dredge up anything painful.”

“No, no!” she smiled at him, “I really enjoyed looking through these. I mean, I see them every day, but it’s rare that I really stop and remember, you know? So… Thank you. I really… I really enjoyed this.” Her eyes glistened as she gazed at him.

Tao nodded stiffly.

“It’s getting late, I, uh…”

“Do you want to stay for coffee?” Marina asked quickly, “I promise I have better than what’s served in the cookhouse.”

“Um…” Tao was anxious to get back to Lark – Karlo. He’d slept all day, he might be awake now. “Raincheck?”

Marina nodded. “Sure!”

She walked him to the door, but as he opened it she caught his arm.

“Y’know, Joshua,” she said softly, “If you ever want to talk about your family… I’d love to hear about them.”

“Oh,” he blinked at her, “Thanks, Marina. Goodnight.”

“Goodnight.”

As he walked down the driveway and reached the road he heard excited women’s voices coming from the house. Weird. Anyway. He made his way by memory through the dark to Faye’s.

He found Becca sitting at the table in the intake room, hunched over a notebook and scratching away with a pencil. She didn’t look up at him.

“So did you find out?” She already knew what he’d gone to confirm.

“Yeah,” Tao replied, “His name is Karlo. Marina Dolidze is his mom.”

“Did you tell her?”

“No.”

She finally looked up at him.

“Why not?”

“Didn’t I tell you how freaked out he got? She’d want to see him ASAP, and I don’t know what that would do to him.”

“Oh, so now you’re worried about his mental state?” Becca accused.

“Yeah, I am now,” Tao admitted, “I fucked up before, and I’m sorry. I’m trying not to fuck up again.”

“Well,” Becca fiddled with the edge of her notebook page, “I’m… writing… an announcement.”

Tao narrowed his eyes.

“That sounds ominous.”

“I talked to Lark again, and he’s convinced me. That there’s at least a chance that we might be in danger from keeping him here.”

“Becca…”

“So we need to put it to a vote. The community needs to decide whether or not we take on that risk.”

“Becca, we can’t give him back!”

She stared at him evenly.

“If that’s what the community decides, then we do.”

“Are you even going to tell them that he’s Marina’s son?”

“I’ll tell them that he’s one of ours, but no more. I don’t want personal feelings to cloud the decision too much.”

“Becca!”

“You’re acting like this is a risk, Tao, but it’s not. They’ll vote to keep him, I know they will.”

“And if they don’t?”

She sighed.

“Then we start negotiating.”

Tao fumed.

“I want to talk to him.”

“Lark?”

“Karlo.”

“What for?”

“He deserves to know that his mother is safe.”

“That’s only going to make him want to leave more, he thinks he’s putting us in danger.”

“He deserves to know.”

“Fine,” she closed her notebook and stood, “But if I tell you to back off, you back off.”

They went upstairs to Karlo’s room, and dismissed the Watchman who had been sitting at his bedside. Becca reluctantly hung back by the door while Tao sat. Karlo appeared to be asleep, his brow slightly pinched.

“Karlo?” Tao reached out and lightly rested a hand on the boy’s shoulder. Karlo jerked awake and looked around wildly, mumbling something incoherent.

“Hey, hey,” Tao rubbed his shoulder, “You’re okay.”

Karlo’s eyes snapped to where Tao was touching him, then traveled up Tao’s arm to his face. He seemed far less feverish now, and his eyes were wide and bright. Wary. Observant.

“Hey,” Tao said again, “I…” Fuck, did I ever tell the kid my name? “I’m… Tao. And you’re Karlo, right?”

Karlo’s eyes got wider, somehow, the dark gold shimmering with fear.

“My name is Lark.”

Tao took a moment, and decided not to push it.

“Is Marina Dolidze your mom? Because, she’s here. I mean, not here-here,” he said, when Karlo started to tremble, “But she lives in this community. She’s safe. And she really misses you.”

Karlo was breathing quickly now. Tao heard the floorboards creak behind him as Becca took a warning step forward. Karlo’s eyes darted between her and Tao, before he took a deeper breath, clenched his fist and set his jaw.

“My name is Lark,” he stared Tao dead in the eye, “And the Commander is my only family.”

~~~

First, Previous, Masterlist, Next

Taglist: @angst-after-dark, @sunshiline-writes, @flowersarefreetherapy, @pigeonwhumps, @whump-em

[waterloggedsoliloquy]

see i take "doomed by the narrative" to mean a character who is doomed (either dead or stagnant with no hope of any trajectory) by the narrative (the nature of the work existing as a story puts unique pressure/limitations on the characters through the medium of choice, where the fact that its a story with a weaker fourth wall is a deliberate choice). Doomed by the narrative meaning the constraints of narrative/genre/medium actively prevent the character from getting out of a cul de sac, and the character pushing against this metatextual boundary is part of the conflict and futility of the exercize. but i see "doomed by the narrative" applied to characters who dont die, break free from their constraints, or go stagnant at all, let alone in metatextual fashions.

what i mean is like. truman and utena are doomed by the narrative in the sense that the narrative is an oppressive force that has put them in a lose-lose situation, no matter how much they object, and the only move left for them is to exit their respective stories. the only things left for them in the narrative are death, or playing by the rules and stagnating. so they bring the curtain down. this is also the intended functions of the truman show and of RGU, to deliberately invoke the fact that the world is a closed narrative and not let you-- the viewer-- forget it, in order to make a point, or a lot of points. The Truman Show and RGU categorically can't be interacted with an audience looking for an experience where they can be sufficiently immersed into a story that they don't need to think about it as something someone else made. (Tangentially, i feel like a lot of shallow criticisms of virtually anything could be remedied by reminding them that the works they complain about were created on purpose by real living people and did not spring fully flawed out of the void.) Thats not to say that kind of story or audience is wrong-- there are countless stories that work better without the looming reminder of fictionalization hanging over someone's head. But it's just-- ugh, you get me. onto another example.

Antigone is doomed by the narrative because the complicated poetry of her small world is of the understanding that this is a tragedy, and the hero of a tragedy must die, no matter how much they try to fight it. The laws of her world are defined entirely amd immutably by the genre it takes place in. The characters implicutly know this. The best thing she can do is die on her own terms. No matter how many times the play is put on, the end result is the same. The characters of the world of OFF are doomed by the narrative because OFF is painfully aware that it is a video game, and many of the characters know it, or at least they know there is a higher power watching it spool out. And if you are an adversary in an RPG standing between the protagonist and his progression, there is only one end for you, and its your HP reaching zero. Finishing OFF means finishing them off. The game has multiple endings but to even get to the end you gotta kill basically everyone. By then its too late. There is not a circumstance where these characters survive bc the rule of the medium does not permit it. This is the category of fridged women.

As for stagnation this is for characters that are by edict of the limits of the narrative are neither permitted to die nor improve their situation nor even leave. They have reached a point of no return. This may or may not be their fault. I think this is a pretty rare character type. Creon also from antigone goes here. Zacharie, also from OFF. Any protagonist of an abandoned webcomic lol. WD Gaster.

i just feel like if ur gonna talk abt a character who is doomed u better actually mean a character who, no matter how many times you reroll the dice, is going to be irreparably fucked. And if its at the hands of a narrative you better mean its at the hands of the narrative, and that its part of the point, an active pressure and limiter.

[lilithfairen]

I might not agree with everything you post but the way guys like Celtic have it out for you, it's like they're legit threatened.

You know, that is exactly the word I was planning on using, when I do a write-up on Fixing RWBY Volume 6 when it's all said and done. That is the perfect word to describe a huge chunk of the show's hatedom:

threatened.

These people genuinely feel as if they are threatened by a story where people like themselves are not the main characters, not the real heroes, not the guiding leaders, not the sympathetic villains. They can't stand a story where female protagonists are heroic figures who are strengthened by the bonds they share with each other, so they write Team RWBY as a bunch of incompetent twits who can't get along with each other. They can't stand a story where a woman of colour is portrayed more sympathetically than a white man, so they need to punish Ilia and desperately try to frame Adam as sympathetic. They can't stand a story where women dare to defy male figures, so they have Ruby be sycophantic to Roman Torchwick, need her uncle to give her pep-talks, and get told to stay in the kitchen by Cardin fucking Winchester.

And the sad thing is that these people can go to so many countless stories, especially in the shonen anime they adore, and get exactly that: stories where female characters are just props for the male characters to fight over, to win, to weep over when they're shoved in the fridge. There's so many stories that are exactly what these losers want, but one story that dares to not be that genuinely terrifies them so much that they devote so much of their time and effort into writing a white-male-supremacist wet-dream version of the story just to have everyone tell the heroines that they suck for the things these manbabies write them doing.

[lindsaywesker]

Good morning! I hope you slept well and feel rested? Currently sitting at my desk, in my study, attired only in my blue towelling robe, enjoying my first cuppa of the day. Welcome to Too Much Information Tuesday.

There are 328 people in the US called Abcde.

Signs saying 'Beware Of Pickpockets' attract pickpockets.

In ancient Rome, women used tampons soaked in opium.

The best time of the day for hand-eye co-ordination is 8pm.

Fear of heights only begins six weeks after a baby learns to crawl.

Half the buyers of vinyl records in the US don’t own a record player.

The average Briton lies about how they really feel 11 times per week.

The happier a bird is, the jazzier and more free-form its singing will be.

Prisoners in California can reduce their sentences by opting to fight forest fires.

Red lipstick boosts waitresses' tips from male customer but not from female ones.

At a food safety conference in Baltimore in 2014, 100 attendees got food poisoning.

Hippos can retract their testicles over a foot into their body to stop rivals biting them.

Until the reign of Henry VIII, kitchen assistants in the Royal household worked naked.

A cyberchondriac is someone who scours the internet looking for details of their illnesses.

There is more toxic nitrogen dioxide in London's Oxford Street than anywhere else in the world.

As a teenager, Sean Paul was on the Jamaican national teams for both swimming and water polo.

Before the invention of colour TV, 75% of people reported dreaming in black and white. Today, only 12% do.

William The Conqueror banned capital punishment. Instead, criminals had their eyes or testicles removed.

Robert Mugabe's wife, Grace, received her PhD from the University of Zimbabwe two months after she enrolled.

King Harold didn't die at the battle of Hastings from an arrow in the eye: he was hacked apart by four Norman knights.

Astronomers at the Allen Telescope Array in California always keep champagne in their fridge in case they discover alien life.

George Orwell named '1984's torture chamber Room 101 after a BBC conference room where he endured countless, boring meetings.

When Stephen Hawking gave a lecture in Japan, he was asked not to mention the possible re-collapse of the universe in case it affected the stock market.

There is no strong evidence that having sex, going for a walk or eating spicy food helps to induce labour in pregnancy. Nipple stimulation, however, has been shown to work.

By the end of her life, Queen Victoria's bust measured seven inches more than her height (5’ 0”). Did the maths for you: 67 inches! Search “Norma Stitz” to see what that looks like!

The oldest known British joke dates from the 10th century. Found in a book of Anglo-Saxon poetry, it reads, "What hangs at a man’s thigh and wants to poke the hole that it’s often poked before? Answer: A key."

Your dreams get weirder during the night. Shortly after you fall asleep, your dreams are most likely to be about things you did or saw during the day, but as the night wears on they become increasingly detached from reality.

In 1923, a jockey named Frank Hayes won a race at Belmont Park in New York despite being dead. He suffered a heart attack mid-race, but his body stayed in the saddle until his horse crossed the line for a 20-1 outsider victory.

Aphrodite of Knidos was one of the first full-size female nude statues in Greek history. According to ancient Greek historian, Lucian of Samosata, it was so lifelike that a man broke into the temple where it was housed to attempt to have sex with it.

In 1978, Isaac Asimov judged a local limerick contest and deemed this entry to be the best out of 12,000: “The bustard’s an exquisite fowl, With minimal reason to growl, He escapes what would be, Illegitamacy, By grace of a fortunate vowel.”

In 1996, a Hong Kong gangster kidnapped the son of the richest man in Asia and demanded a $130 million ransom for his return. After receiving the money, the gangster later called the billionaire and asked him for advice on how he should invest the money.

French gangster Albert Spaggiari was arrested after his gang stole 60 million francs worth of valuables from a bank. At his trial, he distracted the judge, then leaped out of a window and fled on a motorcycle specially set up for him. He was never caught.

The single biggest expense in the Lego Universe video game was hiring a team of moderators to detect if anyone had built Lego penises. Lego Universe was supposed to be the Lego MMO to rule them all but the PC-exclusive title disappeared from existence not too long after its launch. Despite the team's best efforts, their dong detection software just couldn't keep up with the sheer amount of inappropriate player erections popping up everywhere.

Okay, that’s enough information for one day. Have a tremendous and tumultuous Tuesday! I love you all.

[pascalepalaces]

"We Lock Lips" in Juked Magazine:

08.02.21

by Pascale Potvin

after Seduced: Inside the NXIVM Cult

That gripe of the city women with the men that tell them to smile—I do sympathize.

I’d accidentally joined a cult, at about nineteen. The members had claimed they’d help me find myself; I’d had no clue what ‘finding oneself’ might even entail, and so I’d figured I was the ideal candidate.

The company had created all of these personal development programs, and healthy lifestyle bootcamps, and all the more countless intensives. I had come to find, in the decade following, that finding oneself should be right down to the bone.

A similar sentiment was expressed to me, too, in more literal terms.

It would just be like digging into myself for gold, I thought; I knew I’d be happy if I was as thin as the others, that they were keeping me accountable in a way I couldn’t alone. I had paid a small debt, too, when I didn’t do my readings; my friends were only paving the roads on which I could push inward.

They did stop pretending, eventually, that the digital parts of my debt weren’t going up the ranks to the one man in the company—the only man, of course, that we’d ever need. Kenneth even broke the gap by texting me directly and often, asking for more pictures whenever he’d heard I’d eaten more than appropriate.

Though it was all innocent I was also all the way attracted to him, I will admit. How couldn’t I have been, knowing his mind, an aphrodisiac? Kenneth was playing Mozart by the age of six; he’d invented a new mathematics at just fourteen; he’d written books of philosophy in his twenties and boisterous prose. He knew he’d solve the hunger crisis as soon as he had the right influence; which teenaged girl wouldn’t worship such virtues no matter how aged?

So, like the others, I stared at every movement of his mouth as one would the Louvre’s latest.

Still, something was inexplicably wrong within me.

You don’t look too happy about it, Kenneth had responded to one November photo, just as I was turning back toward the road home. He had me stop in my tire tracks, again, to keep trying for a grin genuine enough for judgment.

I couldn’t understand why I kept screwing it all up, in the first place. I’d thought of him for so many miles of drives, had often rocked too far into the gas pedal; this task, for me, should’ve been easy. And yet ever since the start of our one-on-one classes I could only hold heat in my stomach.

Even once I managed an acceptable photo (good, but shave yourself when you get home, he’d reminded), I couldn’t feel the same indestructible that I had after his first teachings. The first part of myself I’d sent him had left me high, really believing maybe I could do anything;

It was devitalizing, not reaching something I’d once so easily held.

“So, did you finish your journal?” Alice asked when she found me loading the fridge.

“Yes. Almost,” I mustered for her.

“You know that I wanted it earlier.”

“Of course. But you asked me to fetch the groceries.”

“You know that making excuses only holds yourself back more,” she spoke, in almost a song. “I think I want you to get an early start tomorrow."

Early starts were always exactly four, inconsiderate of night classes prior.

“That isn’t really fair. I just couldn’t do it today," I retried.

But Alice no longer acknowledged me—and so I only put food away as she ate toast.

In a predictable pattern, I couldn’t enjoy my bath that evening either. My skin was still much hotter than the water surrounding me, my eyes still wetter.

Why couldn’t I get comfortable with anything? I had to wonder. What was I missing? Why was I not by some universe allowed to have what the other women had much more?

For months I had tried to tell Alice that I needed intervention—some extra guidance (please, I really needed it)—but she only ever told me I should work harder. I was the only one who could ultimately decide my own fate, with some help from Kenneth whenever he spared it.

After that, things had only seemed more hopeless.

Yet I started to think that if I acquired some proof that my concerns were solid, or a concrete example of how deeply my mind was wounded, then I’d only have to wait for our next family photo and then, she would see. (It was as I was moving my razor up my thigh that I had the quivering idea.)

Nothing happened, initially, when I moved the handle the wrong direction; I did it again just before the blood appeared, bringing with it a ringing pain. I gasped, the water around me.

I was on earth again, escaping.

A different panic came shortly, of course: there was no way Alice should see what I’d done. What an idiotic idea had overcome my idiot head, in its upset; now, everyone would come to see the cuts, and whether she would sympathize would depend on her mood.

Leaving the tub, I held some wet toilet paper against myself and searched the cabinet for some first aid. There was just one bottle of hydrogen peroxide, which bubbled and burned along with my stifling throat.

Later, I settled for toilet paper held up with tape.

There was no group photo for a few days thereafter, and so the first to see my marks was Kenneth at our next meeting. I was surprised to find he didn’t respond to my disrobing but to ask,

"What is it that you were punishing yourself for? Did it help?”

At that, I didn’t want to say anything wrong. “Not smiling well enough,” I mumbled. “And yes, I think it did.”

Kenneth nodded, and the most surprising part—the one that spread up from its cage in my chest through my neck—was when he lifted his head from its place between my legs and stood.

It was the first time I’d seen something in his pants, aroused.

I practically ran when he dismissed me, my vision all in swirls. He was supposed to be celibate beyond human capacity; he’d claimed he never took pleasure from the techniques. They were only for my benefit, meant to help me solve my issues with my body, with general vulnerability.

What had made his hardness too hard to conceal, this time? Was it my cuts? The idea that I’d bled? That I’d bled for him?

If it was just pain that made him bloody in one place, then, how could it be true he wanted us all to find joy?

Alice approached me the next morning, told me she’d like to go over my cuts with a cauterizing pen—to prevent infections, because of our minimalist healthcare, she justified—and I suspected she was making an excuse to brand me for him.

“You finally went out of your comfort zone this week. Let’s keep that rolling,” she was saying, with a coffee-stained sigh at my resistance. “If you get through this most intense pain, think about all the pain that’ll be so manageable in comparison.”

If I were to deny her request or, God forbid, leave entirely, I’d be more punished and my photos spread like spider legs. The cauterizing collateral. That video of me, forced to moan for my deceased father—it’d release like my body never could since the filming.

I had no choice but to take Alice’s advice, one way or another.

So, I accepted it not quite the way that she’d described.

I cut again, much more in the bath that night—this time all over the arms, again showing skin, finding myself in all of my blood and of course bone. Should I have gone even further?, I am wondering. Carved myself into the tiny thing of a woman Kenneth so desired?

Had he been taking secret pleasure, too, every time he’d kissed all of our cheeks and then our lips?

I went to the backyard before dawn and pushed my arms into the wet dirt, digging. I ran some blocks north, did the same in the garden of Blair and Beth and Jenny. I repeated and repeated. Digging for tetanic treasure. Looking for some lockjaw.

[bleuberries-and-video-games]

While I agree with a lot of the stuff on this post, I don't believe the garage sale thing happened because too many things aligned perfectly.

Sexism and toxic masculinity and the concept of patriarchy can in fact affect more than just men, the common understanding in society is wrong, women can be just as toxic as men, and reciprocate just as toxic of things to reinforce patriarchal standards about things. I cannot stress enough, the reason why it is seen as okay if a woman does it but weird if a man does it in many of these scenarios is because these women are taking on the duty of being a homemaker very seriously, and as such see a man doing so as a bad thing. This reciprocates the concept of patriarchy, because it legitimizes the Homemaker wife, but delegitimizes the Homemaker husband, and obligates him to forsake his interests in favor of pursuing a career to support the house. This is an absurd and stupid idea that should never have made it past the 1950s, and yet it's still pervades to this day. One of my favorite houses is my grandparents house because there's a cabinet full of butter pats that my grandpa collected, and it's not even a quarter of his collection. In another cabinet there's fine china, and another cabinet with other gimmick China that has historical locations of my hometown printed on it. There are two separate record players that don't look like record players, one of which has a Santa on it that my grandma likes. They have shoddy faded couches, strangely patterned wallpaper, a clock that tweets with a different bird over the course of 12 hours, and thousands upon thousands of different pictures common knickknacks, and things that my grandparents enjoyed. My grandma now lives alone in that house, and I bet you she wonders about all the different things in the house that have built up over the years, that she sees, that are tied to her family. The magnets on the fridge, the canisters on top of that, the countless file folders of various genealogical records and newspaper clippings.

My grandpa got butter Pats, he had an extensive garden, the garage, several ceramic items in the house, countless crossword dictionaries and puzzle books, along with bird watching paraphernalia. He didn't need much, didn't take much, but what remains in the house is definitely emblematic of what kind of a person he was, and it was clear that both of them were taken into consideration when my grandma was decorating.

Oh and the fun part? My grandparents weren't the only ones in my families who had this. Both sides of my family did. My great aunt and great uncle had this. I knew my great uncle liked model trains because he had them everywhere, it was never hidden, it was everywhere. It was something he bonded with his son over. I knew my grandma on my dad's side liked Miniatures because she had them all over the house and they were continuously brought out even after she passed away.

I can't stress enough, there is no goddamn reason to make your significant other give up their hobby for your bullshit, unless they're hobby is hurting you or others or themselves. It's not unique to either sex, it's not unique to one kind of relationship, it's only unique to one type of person, a controlling abusive asshole who needs to shore up their bullshit or they will get shipped the fuck out wherever is furthest away from the person they're hurting.

I’ve seen this new trend of girls posting videos like “I hate my boyfriend for bringing all of his stupid boy things into our apartment when we moved in together 🙄” and then pictures of his hot wheels collection or a Halloween skeleton or an extremely cool pirate flag. Give him to me you do not deserve him.

[amazing-lucky-life-of-bushra]

Babies and travel

It's unusual but not unheard of.

We travelled a lot with our daughter. At age 11 she has already been to 67 countries, a few of them more than once.

She actually feels rather embarrassed about it I think as it's so rare. She usually shifts and stays quiet about it.

A nonconformist by birth.

It meant that over the years from starting off with a pram and big suitcases (age 6months to Japan)... we reduced and reduced our stuff back to the old days of just carry on and as few baggage as possible. Lighter and lighter to be unimpeded to adventure.

We certainly need water though for sure. Or baby powder - we ran out so quickly in Japan. But it was kind of fun running around supermarkets look for some.

So over the years she has been on countless jungle walks (usually with just her parents - no guide), slept in the desert more than once, snorkelled and swam of a hell of a lot of Caribbean islands (yes we did the cruises as well as the proper adventures), ordered pasta or burgers or rice in most far flung places as well as gorgeous foodie European cities (to our dismay) but to her credit she loves fish ...

I don't pretend to be a cook & that's why every partner of mine has been a fantastic cook including her dad thankfully. Also I love fabulous food too.

She has been up so many mountains (quite a lot of them in Switzerland), and volcanoes (Central America). She has done so many hikes with so little because we decided to travel far and fast you need to love to travel and discover and enjoy. Some of the places - I can tell you insect sprays have not worked sadly and some places they have.

And most (99%) tourist spots anywhere in the world however remote even on country holidays - there's some guy/ woman selling coke and water, fridge magnets, Tees, sunglasss and probably braid your hair all for $20. In fact they usually see you coming and follow you down the hike a bit.

And we have encouraged her to be a little free. She is a city girl from London and we love her have that too - it's a privilege the school she has, but it's nice to know about nature and the animals (her grandma is a conservationist amongst other things) and from far flung places.

As well as experience lovely hotels (nice for us to) and also shacks and also a little bit of everything. Why not ? It's a been a blank sheet of paper for us.

Wouldn't everybody if they had a blank sheet of paper want to ?

I know horses for courses, we don't expect that from others - otherwise we would be writing on ...erm ... their blank sheet of paper.

What's the point of having that blank sheet of paper then ?

It's a nice rhythm we got into, no need to instruct or even ask ... in fact you ended up leaving the people in different cultures to just be who they are leaving little of yourself but as much as needed for flow

... which is quite appreciated by locals who in many places are still living with other legacies from British/European rule

.. no asymmetry of information (a good mate of mine terms) required.

... a dialogue ... a conversation ... unwritten rules. The pleasure of conversation ... but a different kind / not a language but a flow.

We get it's a tough world out there and yes brown women and women are the ones to be told they are not enough in every way.

We want her to not see that. Not to even see that it is that way. Not even see the nonsense. Not even to know there is a system to fit in.

But just to do her best and be happy as herself.

She has already done more than most (even more than most patriarchy - she doesn't even know it) ... just with seeing the world.

Yes the last 12 months have been terrible for her - any kid.

But she is a sparkly sparkly chip of the old block so I know that no one can take that away from her to negotiate it back to her. No one gets to write or rewrite her story.

She has her own blank sheet, all beit with 67 countries already on there and a slightly punk mum and dad.

[sohin-ace]

Josuke & Okuyasu - Magazine

Inspired by that one fanart I can't use because I can't find the artist.

Enjoy~

'Boys will be boys'.

We don't count the times this excuse was used to justify the hormone-driven and often stupid decisions or behaviors of male teenagers.

This applies to our two protagonists, Josuke and Okuyasu who just happened to be at that age where boys were curious about their own selves but most importantly of course, curious about the opposite sex.

They couldn't really be blamed, sexuality was a normal part of a teenager's life after all. Which may or may not imply them oogling questionable things here and there or watching specific videos, for instance.

Josuke and Okuyasu decided to feast their eyes as a part of their numerous 'bro dates' as they called them, and made it a regular thing.

Of course, they made these moments very secret. Only them could know what sinful things they were doing after school. They trusted no one else than each other and nobody should ever know about their activities.

They especially couldn't let a girl know about their shenanigans. Oh no, that would be an absolute disaster if they were to be caught red-handed by a girl from their school. They would have to carry the heavy title of 'disgusting perverts', stamped right on their foreheads for the rest of their highschool years, if not their life.

One day as they got out of school, they decided to check out the X-rated section of a local konbini, section placed strategically in the far corner of the shop, and opened some nice porn magazine for their needy eyes. As one does.

"Yoooo Josuke check this out!" Okuyasu exclaimed to his friend while pointing to one of the pages, already blushing madly and coughing up an impressed chuckle.

"Oh my god!!" Josuke whisper-yelled to his friend, trying to not catch people's attention. "That's hot! You think those boobs are real?"

They kept on drooling over pictures of sexy women in bikinis or underwear and posing suggestively for 10 more solid minutes, completely forgetting about their surroundings.

They weren't really worried about getting caught as the section they were in was pretty far away from the entrance of the store and nobody really passed by this corner of the shop anyways.

As they were in their own little fantasy world, they didn't notice a certain H/C haired female coming up behind them.

"Hey isn't that the red head girl from last time?" Josuke commented as he pointed at a certain picture.

"The one who was licking a cherry? Yeah I think so." Replied his tan best friend who started chuckling.

"Who even licks cherries like that?"

"I don't know but she can lick my cherry if you know what I'm sayin'~"

They both snorted obnoxiously and stupidly to themselves until they suddenly heard a very familiar someone right behind them.

"Hey guys! What's up!"

The boys jumped, screaming high pitched 'Eeeks' and 'Uwahs' at the sound of your sweet voice startling them into the worst heart attack they'd ever experience, threatening to cut their short lives even shorter.

Josuke nearly dropped the lewd magazine from his clammy hands and they both turned around abruptly, sweating bullets as they desperately and clumsily hid the piece of dirty evidence behind their backs.

'Oh no. God, everything but not this...' They both thought in unison, as if connected.

The last thing they could have ever expected or wanted, was seeing YOU, of all people, here out of all places and now, out of all times. They really had the worst luck. Suddenly, getting struck by thunder seemed appealing.

"O-o-oh hey Y/N-chan..." Okuyasu stuttered shakily, still sweating profusely.

"What uh... Ahem... What are you doing... here...?" Josuke continued clearing his tight throat and eyeing his best friend with rising anxiety.

The boys were silently communicating, trying to come up with anything, any excuse to either hide their shameful crime from you, or make you leave as soon as possible. They had to work their so-called 'bro-telepathy' like they never did before.

"I was passing by to get some strawberry milk, but then I recognized your hair in the distance! I'm so glad to see you!" You smiled angelically at them while showing them your little pink carton of strawberry milk like it was some prize.

You were beaming so brightly at them, they almost had to squint at your radiating light and beauty. Oh no this was bad, they were both striked by you like an arrow right through their heart.

'She.... SHE'S TOO CUTE FOR THIS WORLD!' They both screamed in their heads.

You, in particular, should never know about what they were doing. EVER. You were way too pure and too innocent for this. Who knows what your reaction would be if you discovered their lewd secrets? Would you judge them? Be disgusted by them? Never talk to them ever again? They couldn't possibly risk that.

Sadly, they were not as glad to see you here as you were to see them. You eventually asked them the oh-so-dreaded question that they wished you'd never ask.

"So, what were you boys doing? Reading manga?" You leaned over to the side slightly trying to see what they were hiding behind their backs and they both panicked.

Obviously you didn't notice the big 'R18' sign over all three of your heads and surely, you couldn't know what this part of the store was since you probably never checked it in your entire life.

In an amazingly coordinated moment, Josuke swiftly handed the magazine to Okuyasu while walking towards you, passing in front of the Jobro, the action completely hidden from your sight.

Josuke came in front of you and grabbed your shoulders, smiling big and trying to act as natural as he could.

"Aah um yes! Manga! Actually there's this one manga I wanted to show you, good thing you're here!" The pompadour-haired haafu was still obviously in utter panick, even if he tried his best to play it cool.

As Josuke was trying to deflect your attention from their guilty pleasure, Okuyasu took this advantage to turn around and scurriedly hide the magazine back in it's original shelf.

You were confused at their shady behavior and furrowed your eyebrows a little bit. You noticed Josuke was sweating and panting slightly, but your eyes traveled to Okuyasu fumbling with the magazines behind and you tried to make out what he was doing.

But Josuke wouldn't let you discover their evil plan for anything in the world, and so, he cupped both your cheeks in his large hands earning a gasp from you as he almost squished them, and turned your head back to face him.

He leaned down to your height and your eyes widened, puzzled by his spontaneous actions.

"Y/N Look at me! Look at my eyes!" He stared at you with a serious expression and you blushed at his sudden bold act and how close he was.

"J-jojo...?" You yelped as your heart was beating fast in your chest.

You were so confused as to what the hell was going on and why they were acting so weird. You knew the two could be up to some truly bizarre adventures sometimes, but that was just so strange.

Whatever they were trying to distract you from, it was working. His face was so close to yours, and his big hands were so warm, you subconsciously put your small ones over his wrists in response, face now red with blood and adrenaline.

You were beyond puzzled at everything that was happening, but you were so lost in Josuke's ocean blue eyes, you completely forgot about what Okuyasu was hiding so clumsily.

Speak of the devil, the tan male suddenly came up to you both, and Josuke released you from his grasp as his best friend made a surprisingly genius offer.

"Ohh Y/N, you didn't pay for that milk yet, right? Good, it's my treat then! Josuke, let's get some too! I'm thirsty."

The scar-faced boy casually wrapped a large arm around your shoulders and swiflty turned you around in his strong hold, effectively dragging you away from the adult section of the store, and barely letting you any time to even glance at the overly sexual display around you.

"Eh? What about that manga you wanted to show me?" You looked back at Josuke, regaining your composure slowly.

"Oh that? Never mind, it's not important anyway- Hey Okuyasu, do you want banana flavor or chocolate?" The fourth Jojo quickly changed the subject as he opened the fridge doors and picked up some drinks.

"You guys are acting so weird today..." You loved the boys, and they usually brought you into their messes, that wasn't anything new, but sometimes you really couldn't understand them. "I'll go wait in line while you guys make up your minds."

You gently patted Okuyasu's chest who almost forgot to let you go and you walked away towards the cash register.

When you were finally out of earshot, they both stared at each other, thinking of how they just dodged a bullet so big, it might as well just have been an atomic bomb.

"D-dude... That was so clutch man...." Josuke sighed, still swallowing his stress out and his best friend only shut his eyes and cringed before grabbing his drink.

"Just shut up, let's not talk about it..."

"Aaahh!!" Okuyasu let out a loud sigh of delight as he sipped his banana milk. "Man, that hit the spot."

"Yeah! Nothing better than some fresh milk in the summer. Great idea Y/N."

You three walked out of the store and headed back home, enjoying your drinks. You giggled at their over-the-top reaction and handed them your own carton.

"You guys want to try strawberry flavor?"

"Oohh~" Okuyasu gushed before smirking and taking the item from your hands. "An indirect kiss from my little Y/N! Lucky~"

Josuke gasped and snatched the drink as well, snickering when he was done. "Can't say no when she's the one who proposed huehue!"

"Well you both drank from the same straw, so technically you two kissed too!" You laughed at their priceless shocked facial expressions.

"WHAT?!"

"Naah dude, no homo, no homo." Josuke patted his friend's back, reassuring him with the holy expression famous for saving countless men from potential homosexuality.

Okuyasu sighed in relief. "Yeah, no homo! Still in the bro zone, bro."

You snorted at their questionable reasoning and kept on walking when you suddenly saw two familiar faces coming towards you.

"Oh! It's Koichi and Yukako!" You waved and smiled at the couple who approached you.

"Oh hey guys, what are you doing?" The short male greeted with a smile.

"Oh nothing much, I bumped into them in the konbini." You sheepishly answered and Yukako quirked an eyebrow at the two suspicious looking males next to you.

"Really?" She feigned, still staring at them. "What were they doing without you I wonder..."

"I don't know, reading manga I think? I'm not sure, they wouldn't tell me." You tried to look between her and them and they seemed to glare at the girl as hard as she did them.

"Huh?" She scoffed and shifted her weight on one leg." I bet you guys were reading porn again. Y/N I can't believe your patience around those guys."

"HUUUHHH???" Koichi yelled in pure surprise at the revelation and you three widened your eyes.

"YOU FREAKIN- OH MY GOD SHUT UP!" Okuyasu gasped and screamed at the girl who was smirking in victory.

"W-what?" You stuttered and looked at the two visibly stressed boys. "Po-... I don't- ... What??"

"Y/N DON'T LISTEN TO HER SHE'S LYING!" Josuke guiltily tried to reason as you covered your mouth in shock.

"Well it's the truth, right? Did I hit a sensitive subject, perhaps?" The brunette chuckled cutely, infuriating your friends even more.

"YOU'RE DEAD!!!"

Josuke sprinted towards Yukako who easily hoisted her awe-struck boyfriend over her shoulder and ran for dear life, having no regrets whatsoever.

An old one. A very old fic, it hurts to read it. I'm going to go ahead and post some old stuff I wrote just to get them out of my drafts. I hope they'll be enough for my beautiful gangsters.

[problemswithbooks]

At least there’s still Mt. Lady, possibly HK’s best female Pro Hero.

Yeah, she's sadly the best we got. He managed to give her a mini arc about learning to work with others, and not be fame obsessed. I think from what little we've seen she's a decent character. But at the end of the day she gets less screen time then other side characters, like BJ. Plus, Kamui Woods got into the top 10 for his work during the Kamino Raid, but Mount Lady did just as much as he did, and didn't get that kind of boost. Woods doesn't even get a much depth as Mount Lady does, so that's kind of a weird choice in my opinion.

The thing is, I just find most of the fandom's reaction to Star and her poor treatment kind of disheartening. It's fine if people don't like her--she's not really given much depth to be liked for much more then her design and Quirk. And she is beating up a character people really like. But it's kind of frustrating to see posts about how awesome it is that Shig is gon'na kill her and it's what she deserves, while totally ignoring or even defending Hori's choice to introduce another female character as fodder for a male character to defeat in 4.5 chapters.

Like, I'm not saying Hori is a raging misogynist. All I'm saying is that due to being raised in a sexist society (which is pretty much everywhere) he has internal biases, which effect how he chooses to write and treat his female characters. This isn't even a solely male problem, there have been countless studies that show as soon as people know the gender of a baby--even before it's born, how they talk about it and perceive it change. Women aren't exempt form this, and I've seen this kind of sexist bias in books written by women.

So, it's a little weird when to see people say he's not being sexist, when it's so clear that he is. Star was never going to win--I knew that from the beginning and that was always my problem with his decision to make her a woman. At some point it seemed like she was going to be male, but he changed his mind--probably because he didn't enjoy drawing a man as much as a woman. I don't think he thought through the implications of changing the gender of the character or how it highlighted a pretty big problem in his writing--that he uses female characters as disposable objects that are nice to look at while they last.

A lot of his female characters could be replaced with a sexy lamp with a laser beam and not much would change. Like if this was a no-Quirk story, Star could be replaced with the the Tiamat Missile and AfO/Shig could steal it. All Star was there to do was to give Shig a free powerup and make him even more scary for the final fight. Lady Nagant could have been replaced by a voice recorder or video tape that info dumped the HPSC's crimes. Neither of these characters were necessary and that in and of it's self is an issue. They're there to look pretty and be sidelined or fridged for a male character's growth.

It was bad when he did it with Nagant, and it's bad now too. Yet, because Star was beating up a character they liked, a lot of people are saying she's a bitch, making fun of her and saying she deserved it--ignoring the fact she's not real so she can't make her own choices and was handcrafted by a male author who continues to use his adult female characters as punching bags. And it's just kind of depressing.

[leafs-lover]

If he's lucky I'll let him join

Prologue: Not Enough

Series List

A/N: This is the prologue and is written from Auston’s POV. Auston mentioned in one video chat that he had a friend who plays in Europe that was staying with him during quarantine (that’s who Trevor is, but he is only briefly mentioned). This starts the day he met Katie (August 2019) and ends with the night in May 2020.

Warnings: A little fluff at the beginning, angst, swearing, drinking and smut (m + f oral, fingering, sex and complete and utter dominance by Freddie), voyeurism

Word Count: 8000

It was a hot Arizona day; you could already feel beads of sweat developing at your roots under your hat. It was barely 10am, but it was already nearing 100°F, and it was only going to get hotter. Walking in and taking off your Oakley’s it took a few seconds for your eyes to the change in lighting.

You weren’t even sure she was real at first, the way the light filtered through the large windows and kissed her skin. Her long hair tied behind her head flowing down her back, bright blue eyes staring back at you. But the thing you noticed first was her smile. God her smile was captivating.

Standing there talking to her twenty minutes after she had handed you your drink, you just kept trying to make her laugh, hoping to get a glimpse of her smile one more time. The two of you exchanged numbers and started hanging out. You didn’t even play the “Auston Matthews hockey player” card with her. She didn’t even know until one day a few weeks later you were picking her up after practicing in Phoenix and she saw the hockey sticks in the car. And even then she didn’t seem too phased by it.

You only had about 5 weeks with her before having to leave for training camp, but they were the best five weeks. She would spend her days off by your pool, her boxer Carlos swimming around. There were countless sleepovers and impromptu dates.

One day you picked her up after work and she dragged you into a vintage shop. Forcing you to try on ridiculous outfits and even finding a monocle for one of them. Blue feather boa around your neck, black top hat on your head with your arm over her shoulder while she was in a blue coloured 1950‘s dress that had a poodle skirt. It was the most ridiculous you had looked, but Katie had never looked better. She didn’t hesitate to pull your phone from your pocket and snap a few pictures, one them even ended up as your lock screen for a little bit.

She took you to her favourite spot, a two hour hike through the desert that lead to a lookout. There was rolling hills with winding roads and it overlooked Scottsdale. You also took her to your favourite sunset spot. Your roof.

You had taken a few girls up there before, your roommate Trevor used to tease you about it but it was different with Katie. The two of you stayed up there for hours, long after the sun had set and the stars had come out. You talked about anything and everything, only going inside after her third yawn in 15 minutes. Only then did you realize it was after 2am.

Leaving for the season you’d still text a few times a week, facetime and even sent flowers when her dog was sick. You wished you met her sooner; you had driven by that café every day going to the rink, why didn’t you ever stop by before? Those five weeks just went by too quick.

Everything with her seemed to be going well, and maybe at some point there could be a future for the two of you. Katie had just gotten out of a relationship a few months before meeting you and wasn’t looking for anything too serious. You remember thinking that maybe after next summer where you would have three months to spend together it could be better. Maybe she would be ready then.

Even still you carried on with the season slowly finding yourself with less time to chat. Instead of facetiming twice a week, it turned to once a week and then every other. Lying in bed awake at night you sometimes find yourself scrolling through the pictures on your phone, reliving those moments.

Meeting Y/N she instantly reminded you of Katie. Maybe it was her smile, or maybe it was her laugh. But there was warmth about her, a familiarity. You were instantly brought back to the clothing shop, and the nights on your roof. You remembered all those mornings waking up before Katie, her hair a mess wearing nothing but your t-shirt as she snored lightly beside you.

Leaving the party that night you called her, wanting to hear her voice. You stayed up probably an hour later than you should have just listening to her laugh on the other end of the phone. You even managed to find a few days where she could come down and you got Y/N out of your mind after that.

Weeks went by and you didn’t think of Y/N, even when you saw her at dinner with Fred. You quickly realized that everything you were feeling for Y/N was just lust; there was no real emotional connection with her.

Seeing her at Early Mercy you told yourself it was just the dress, Katie had a similar one she had worn when she visited. But you weren’t entirely sure you believed it. It was weird how one smirk and your hands on Y/N’s hips had brought everything rushing back. Like a dam being opened up, you found yourself once again thinking of two women.

But before you could process what you were feeling for Y/N. What was real, what was tricks your mind was playing on you, the league shut down and you were back in Scottsdale with Fred and Trev. The three of you lounging by the pool, having relaxing days with Felix, even hitting up the golf courses a few times.

Katie, being a barista, she wasn’t considered essential and you got to spend some time with her during the lockdown. It started with just a night or two together each week, and slowly you found her and Carlos over at your place more often.

Not able to take her out you ordered in a couple dinners but Fred and Trevor would be there too. Living together and all. You had said hi to Y/N a couple times while Fred Facetimed with her, but overall you didn’t talk to her a lot. Your feelings for Y/N went away as your feelings for Katie re-emerged.

You still got the idea Katie wasn’t looking for anything too serious. Sometimes lying in bed with her wrapped in your arms you thought you were the only person in her world. But then there were other moments you felt the complete opposite, just a small piece of her life.

She would leave and you wouldn’t hear from her for days. She would send you a couple texts and then it would be radio silence for hours. When she was with you she kept her phone on tight wraps, quickly reacting to alerts. She often would walk out of the room for phone calls, coming back saying he mom or sister said hi. It could be nothing, but given how you have done those exact things to women before it made you think there was something else going on.

But you really realized she still wasn’t looking for anything serious when she not so subtly hinted about threesomes. You knew she had done them in the past, mostly with one guy and another girl. But she told you about one night in college when she got drunk with her roommate and two guys.

Her and her roommate ended up hooking up a bit in front of the two guys. They sat there watching while they stripped the others clothes off and fooled around a bit. Her roommate ended up falling asleep and Katie almost kicked the guys out but changed her mind at the last minute.

She told you how she fooled around with both of them for hours. The alcohol in her blood led to her first threesome with two men and she described it as her favourite night. Not long after that she met her ex and they were together for a few years but he had no interest in anything like that so she didn’t participate in any more. Now that she was single she made it known she was very open to more. With two guys, with another girl, it didn’t seem like it mattered.

It started so slowly you didn’t even notice. She would not so subtly ask “where is Trev” when he was out getting groceries. Then she would get a little too close while offering to help him with dinner.

A week ago after a few drinks she was very obviously flirting with Fred in your kitchen. She slowly ran her fingers over his wrist asking about his watch, her body almost pressed against him. The next day she asked him to rub sunscreen on her back and pulled her hair to expose her skin but you were only 10 ft. away. Her not so discreet winks left little to the imagination and Fred noticed.

But both times he brushed her off saying he had to go call his mom even though it was the middle of the night in Denmark. And Trevor would wander away mumbling about working out. After the sunscreen incident the two of you had a major fight and you didn’t see her for almost a week.

Earlier today Trevor left to go to his parents for a week and Fred was out with some girl he had been talking to. You invited Katie over and everything seemed to be going well. She apologized for flirting with your friends, saying it wouldn’t happen again and you apologized for blowing up about it.

The two of you fell back into easy conversation. Watching as Carlos swam in the pool and Felix panicked from the safety of the concrete. He ran around the perimeter of the pool barking at Carlos, he even tried to reach out to get him and fell and you had to scoop him out. But that didn’t stop Felix from trying to “save” Carlos again; he managed to fall in the pool two more times before you all went inside.

After dinner Carlos and Felix are curled up on the couch together. Carlos seems impartial to Felix, but Felix is absolutely enamored with him, becoming his shadow for his entire visit.

Katie is up in your room on the phone with her sister who is in Michigan when you hear the front door open. Shoes are haphazardly kicked off followed by his footsteps down the hall, neither dog even lifting their heads too tired from the fun during the day.

Walking into the kitchen Fred opens the fridge quickly twisting the cap off a beer. Glancing to the stove you see it’s 1030. Sitting at the bar he tells you about his night, you weren’t expecting him until tomorrow morning. He starts ranting about some bullshit drama the girl started and how he is done with her, doesn’t want the headache.

He asks if you want to go out to a bar for a drink, saying he can use a change in scenery. Restrictions are beginning to lift in Arizona, bars and restaurants opening up with partial capacity. He doesn’t know Katie is upstairs. How could he? She arrived after he left.

You respond by telling him that it’s a Tuesday, nothing will be that busy. But you know that it’s not really alcohol he is after, there is plenty in the house. He is seeking a distraction for the night. Brushing him off he accepts your lie and sits at the island, further diving into his night.

“Someone here?” he asks pulling the beer to his lips. Katie must have dropped something, your bedroom being right above the kitchen and it echoes off the hardwood.

“Yeah Katie” you say dismissively, when you see the spark hit his eye. The wheels in his brain beginning to turn and you knew exactly the path they were heading. You two have shared women before, and your eyes got that same glimmer in them when the idea crossed your mind.

Only difference the last two were his girls, Emily and Sarah. Sarah was a random girl he had only known for a few weeks; someone Fred said there was no future and was just having fun with.

And Emily met him in Toronto. A few nights later she approached you at a different bar. When you invited her out for drinks a few weeks later with some of the guys she played dumb like she didn’t know you and Fred were friends, but you both quickly realized what she was after. He had no attachment or desire for anything further with either woman.

But up until recently you thought Katie was different. You thought there could be something, although she did just reiterate the fact she doesn’t want a relationship about 2 hours ago.

“Yeah?” he asks smugly raising an eyebrow. “Think she wants to have some fun tonight?”

Those words sting. One you knew she was already going to have fun with you. But two, you knew he was only asking because he knows she is into it. He wouldn’t ask if he genuinely thought Katie had no interest.

“I don’t know man” you sigh. Looking up you are met with his dark brown eyes eagerly waiting for you to catch on “I’ll go ask” you finally say.

Walking to your bedroom you almost considered not knocking, telling Fred she said no and ushering him out before she even knew he was there. But you also know Katie wants this, and you want her to be happy.

Slowly opening your bedroom door you see the bathroom door is closed, a flicker of light under the door frame. Sighing you sit on the bed and wait for her to come out; hoping she is in her pajama’s with her makeup off and ready for bed. Instead when that door opens you see her hair still flowing down her back. Tight dark jean short and a white tank top that your surprised can even stay buttoned up, her tits barely fitting inside. Your dick twitches at the sight, just as it had when she walked in your door earlier in the afternoon.

“Hey” she smiles walking over to you. She stops in front of your legs, hands resting on your shoulders as you get lost in her floral perfume. Leaning down her lips brush against yours, her hands tangling into your hair as she straddles you on the bed, a deep groan getting caught in her throat.

You want nothing more than to throw her onto her back and dominate her for the next few hours. Tie her up and make her scream your name time after time again. But you don’t, and she can sense your hesitation.

“What’s up” she pulls away slightly her lips moving to your jaw and neck.

“Fuck” you groan getting lost in her touch tilting your head for her. She smiles at your response and you allow her to continue for a minute before pulling back. “I gotta talk to you about something” you reluctantly whisper.

“Hmm” she doesn’t even pull back, clearly one thing on her mind.

“Fred” you choke out “he came back and had an idea…” you trail off as her teeth sink into your neck and she grinds her clothed core over your dick. “He umm” you can barely focus as she continues to pepper kisses along your neck, gently sucking on your ear lobe. “He wanted to know if you wanted a threesome” you practically whisper out the end out that sentence.

You aren’t even sure if she heard you because she doesn’t stop, grinding her hips down further. “Yeah?” she finally mumbles against your neck “what do you think about that?” You know she is only checking in with you given how you spent 40 minutes discussing her openly hitting on your friends, if you hadn’t of fought over it she probably would have accepted the offer by now.

“It’s up to you” you groan hands gently gripping the back of her thighs.

“Mhm” she muses “but do you want to?”

That question makes your stomach churn. You want to do it for Katie, for Fred even. But if you are only thinking about yourself the answer is no. Literally any other girl you would have no problem with. But the thought of Fred fucking Katie makes you nauseous.

“Yeah” you say softly and she smiles wide quickly bringing her lips to yours. The kiss is full of passion and heat, and you know her answer long before she tells you. Her tongue swipes the inside of your mouth, her breasts pressing against your chest.

“You better go get Fred then” she whispers bringing her lips back to yours.

Quickly flipping her she lands on her back with a loud squeal, a sound guaranteed to make your dick throb. Your mouth quickly attaches to her neck before dipping lower, your tongue swipes along the crescent of her breasts and you leave some open mouth kisses. You hope she pulls you down closer, not letting you leave, too caught up in the moment. That her legs wrap around your waist and she pins you on top of herself. Instead she giggles and gives your shoulders a playful push and you pull away.

She shoots you a playful wink and you saunter off, finding Fred exactly where you left him. At the island, his beer almost gone. His eyes perk up when he hears you, and he smirks when you give him a nod toward your bedroom.

Silently the two of you make your way to the bedroom and a huge part of you hopes she is waiting to tell you she changed her mind. Instead you see her sitting on the end of the bed, stripped from her clothes in nothing but a matching white lace bra and panty set.

Fred mutters a low fuck and you can see his eyes raking over body. Following the valley of her breasts down her stomach to her core that you can only assume is soaked. You swallow so hard at the sight you think she could see your Adams apple pop from your throat, or your dick throbbing in your pants.

“Hey Fred” she says breathlessly walking over to the two of you. She stops at you first and pulls you down for a kiss. You are slow and cautious while she is full of heat and need. Gripping your hands she brings them around her body to her ass, encouraging you to get a huge handful while her arms lock around your neck. She pulls you down, her back arching as her tongue dances in your mouth.

The two of you are locked in a heated kiss, you continuing to firmly squeeze her ass. Her fingers gently tangle into your locks, your hat falling to the floor. For a moment you forget Fred is there, getting lost in Katie’s touch. A slight groan gets caught in her throat and the two of you pull away gasping for air. She smirks feeling your bulging erection in your denim and brings her thumb to the side of your lip to wipe away some lip gloss smeared around your lips.

Taking two steps she walks over to Fred who without hesitation has a hand on the back of her neck. Tangling into her hair he pulls her face forward their lips crashing into the others. She moans into the kiss and he walks her backwards to the bed. Her knees hit, his hands are on her back slowly lowering her onto the mattress.

Once on the bed, his knees on either side of her he pulls back pealing his shirt off. He throws it right at you, a little extra touch. Nonetheless you throw it on the floor, quickly followed by yours. You watch her eyes light up taking in his broad shoulders and the curves of his stomach muscles. It’s not that she hasn’t seen him without a shirt by the pool but this time it’s different.

Fred has a wide grin on his face as her hands begin to wander over his body, starting on his chest before sliding around to his back. Eventually they stop, tugging on the roots of his hair and one knee bends. The two of them are locked in a staring match, eyes never faltering. His hand finds the back of her thigh and gently runs up it, cupping her ass in the process.

“You know I hear you at night” he says and a blush immediately hits her cheek and turning her head away slightly. “No need to be embarrassed it’s hot.” He ducks down his tongue tracing the valley of her breasts, the spot where your lips were mere moments ago. You wonder if he can taste you on his tongue.

“I kind of want to make those sounds come out of you first” his fingers begin to trail up the inside of her thigh and her head falls back. His thick fingers begin stroking over her clothed core and you almost see her entrance quiver at the touch as he pops his head up to look at her face. “What do you say you let me pull those filthy moans from you first, and then we let him join?”

Undoing your belt, the buckle landing on the floor captures her attention. Her bright blue eyes find yours and you desperately tried to plead with her to not let that happen. You can’t imagine having to helplessly watch. Before she has a chance to read your face his fingers press further into her clothed core and a breathy "yes" falls from her lips.

You stand there button and zipper undone but completely frozen. You can see the smirk hit his face as her eyes flutter closed as he sinks his teeth into her collarbone. Your pants slip out your grasp and end up on the floor in a pile around your ankles, staring as his fingers slip under the lace and slowly work her open.

“You should go sit Auston” his head nods to the chair in the corner. “We’ll let you know when we want you.”

You have never wanted to throw Fred against a wall until that moment, and if it wasn’t for Katie’s moan you would have. Stepping out of your jeans you walk over to the chair, a perfect angle for you see everything he does to her.

Pulling his fingers out, he lifts her hips and drags the white lace down her legs. Her hands trail down his chest, gently digging in to his hip.

“Like what you see baby” he asks unclasping her bra.

She doesn’t muster a response, instead pulling her bottom lip through her teeth and giving him a slight nod. He slowly slides his fingers inside of her scissoring her open. You see the two digits curl upward and start to slide in and out. Immediately you can tell she is soaked from the sounds coming between her legs.

His fingers slide in and out with ease, his mouth quickly finding her breast. Her breathing gets deeper and Fred continues to suck and swirl her breast in his mouth.

Her first one always takes a bit of work, but once she had one the second always quickly follows. Tonight is no different, Fred could go faster, and she likely would have gotten there by now, instead he is relishing in every moan, groaning when she grinds her hips down on his digits.

Glancing to the clock it’s been well over 15 minutes of you watching his fingers slide in and out. 15 minutes of her moaning. 15 minutes of you being painfully hard watching everything unfold. 15 minutes until her breathing switches.

You want to be mad at Fred still for making you sit in the corner like a kid on time out, but that hitch in her throat catches your attention and his. He doesn’t stop, continuing his slow but firm pace as she continues to pant his name more erratically. Her knuckles on the duvet are white from clenching it so hard, and finally you see her pussy flutter.

Even from a few feet away it is glorious to watch. Walls contracting around his fingers, white spilling around his digits, curse words tumbling off her lips. In that moment it didn’t matter she hadn’t looked to you for ages, she hadn’t muttered your name. Seeing that, knowing her veins were flooded with euphoria, nothing seems to matter to you anymore.

And once her legs stop trembling that feeling doesn’t leave. You watch Fred’s fingers increase their speed searching for her second orgasm. When this all started you were very uneasy almost nauseous but now your dick is twitching in your boxers and all you want is to watch her have another. To watch her fall apart again.

Her fingers release the handful of the duvet and find his hair firmly gripping his red roots. His thumb connects to her clit and begins to harshly press circles into it. Sensing her second orgasm is near you shifted to the edge of your seat, wanting the best view possible.

And then it happens, her second one in a matter of minutes. Her legs trembled as he fucks his fingers in and out of her. The only sound is her breathlessly moaning his name. Even though it wasn’t your name it sent a fire through you.

Just as you reach for the elastic of your boxers, Fred pulls back. You stop thinking maybe this is your moment, finally you can join. Instead he pulls his pants and boxers off in one quick motion.

Katie’s eyes go wide at the sight before her. The look you are used to seeing on woman’s faces when they first meet Fred’s cock, sometimes they still have that look on the third or fourth time. And it’s not that you are small by any means, you are very long

Fred is also long, but he is incredibly thick.

Some women are shocked when they see Fred, others are scared. But not Katie. Katie looks excited about what awaits her. She quickly flips him onto his back with a giggle and begins to adjust herself between his thighs when he calls her up whispering something in her ear.

Glancing over to you with a smirk she nods slightly at whatever he whispers in her ear. She turns and adjusts herself sitting on his chest facing you as she begins to stroke over his shaft. Your eyes are locked on her dripping cunt; you can see some of the juices that have collected slowly falling onto Fred’s chest. Katie gives Fred a few more tugs before dropping her mouth down to him.

Slowly she runs her tongue up his shaft a few times before swirling her tongue around his throbbing tip, lapping up some of the precum that has oozed out. You can feel her magnificent mouth as if it’s on you even though its feet away. “Wanted to make sure you had the best view man” Fred mumbles but you can’t see him, Katie’s body blocking his face.

With a mischievous wink she wraps her mouth around him and your eyes almost roll to the back of your head. She begins to slowly bob on him, using her hand to help with what she can’t fit. As she becomes acquainted with his size she begins to bring her mouth lower taking more and more of him in. Her deep blue eyes never leaving yours.

Fred’s hands grip her hips and he begins to moan out her name.

“Fuck man” Fred groans directing that statement to you.

“Yeah she’s unbelievable with her mouth” you chuckle. “But just wait until you bury yourself in her man, her walls are like magic.”

“Fuck, can’t wait” he groans as she has taken his entire length. His hips buck up a few times thrusting further into her mouth causing her to gag. You have never felt so jealous watching Katie choke on your friends dick while her fingernails scraped down his inner thighs, just like she had done so many times with you.

All you can imagine is how fucking good it will be with her lips are finally on you. Your throbbing dick, oozing with precum. You are almost positive the second she touches you; you will come undone but you don’t care. Instead of anger you feel excitement and quickly pull your boxers off. Her eyes go wide seeing you sitting in the chair, cock painfully hair and waiting for her.

Nodding your eyes down to your dick in a “you want this” kind of way she smiles around him. His moans have turned into groans, and his breathing getting louder and you can tell he is getting close. He mumbles in Danish to her and she just hums in response and you almost lose yourself in the moment.

You think he is about to finish and shoot ribbon after ribbon down her throat. When that happens you know it will be your window to join in while he recovers. But instead he pulls her off gently tossing her onto the bed.

She lands beside him with an “umph” on her hands and knees and Fred is quickly behind her. Spreading her cheeks apart his eyes level with her glistening slick that has collected between her legs. He dives in mouth cleaning the juices that remain on her thighs before connecting to her folds.

Her head falls back, her long hair resting low on her back. Once his mouth connects to her entrance and his tongue slowly flicks inside her eyes snap shut and her breathing deepens. Every time he presses in further her entire body jolts forward before she finally can’t support herself and falls to her elbows.

“Katie baby” you say surprised your voice doesn’t crack. “Open your eyes for me.”

A deep seeded chuckle falls from the man behind her and she whimpers in response. You can tell she is close, and the closer she gets the harder it is for her to keep her eyes open. But she tries. His nose will press in a little further and her eyes will flutter shut. He pulls back and they open wide.

“I’m gonna cum” she barely manages to whisper before her head lands on the mattress and Fred groans behind her. You bring your eyes to her core and see some of her juices spilling around his mouth, as strangled moans get caught in her throat.

“God you taste like heaven” Fred pulls back wiping his face clean of the liquid coating his beard. His index finger slowly rubs over her entrance and she shudders at the touch.

“Please” she whimpers her body jolting forward trying to have a few moments of relief.

“What do you want baby?” Fred smirks continuing to stroke over her core and she tries to squirm from his touch. For the first time in twenty minutes you feel some anger hearing him call her that. You call her baby. And he knows it.

“I need a minute” she squirms as he starts to slowly press two fingers back inside her core.

“You sure baby?” he pumps his thick digits a few more times. “I hear you with him” his fingers dipping out of your view “doesn’t sound like he gives you a minute.”

He pulls his fingers out and climbs off the bed pulling her with him by her hips. Once at the edge he bends one knee onto the bed, his tip pressing at her core. Fred looks up and gives you a wink and he guides himself in.

“Ungh” she groans as he slides inside her walls very slowly pressing his length inside her. Her mouth opens into a silent “O” her scream getting caught in her lungs. Watching her get stretched by your best friend almost makes you explode all over your chest. Your hand wraps around your length and you begin to stroke yourself, using your thumb to spread around the precum that has been oozing out.

“Fuck you’re so big-it’s too much” she groans pulling away.

“I’m not even halfway in yet” he says smugness rolling off his tongue. You shake your head and you can see the tears pricking her eyes. His hands fists her hips and he continues to guide himself in, further stretching her walls around his length and her eyes close shut.

Finally her ass hits his pelvis and he stops fully seethed in her warmth. He gives her a moment to adjust, rolling his hips slowly but not pulling back. You watch her eyes slowly flutter open, blinking back the few tears that are stinging her eyes.

With a sharp inhale she pulls forward slightly. Fred picks up on her movements and slowly pulls back before the two of them close the gap with their bodies. You continue to tug on yourself, fully engaged in the scene in front of you.

“Fuck” she hisses and Fred stops for a moment. “No don’t stop” she whimpers turning her head to look back at him.

With a dark grin he snaps his hips slowly rocking in and out of her. “You’re so fuckin tight-fuck you feel so good” his voice is low and husky, but it makes her whimper again. He pulls her back onto his cock. Harder and deeper than before. Reaching in front of her she clenches around the duvet her eyes slowly find yours.

“Freddie” she moans and your hand stops. Your blood boils at how his name sounds coming off her lips. It sounds good, too good.

Upon hearing his names Fred reaches forward to grab her by the neck pulling her up against his sweaty chest. He doesn’t tighten his hand on her neck instead using it to hold her in place as he continues to thrust in and out of her.

“Oh Freddie right there” she moans her breath ragged as his cock slides in and out of her dripping pussy. He sinks his teeth into her shoulder, but looks to you through his lashes. You think it’s your time to join; it’s been the two of them for almost an hour. Standing up the chair slides on the floor and Katie’s open at the sound. With every step you take to the bed Fred’s eyes follow you.

His hand slides down from her neck to her nipple and he pulls it through his fingers. Katie gasps while his teeth sink into the flesh on her neck. “What do you think baby” he mumbles sucking a hickey against her neck. “Think it’s his turn yet” he thrusts his hips and her head falls back against his shoulder “I thought we were still having fun.”

“Yes” she groans. Looking at her face you can immediately tell she is barely hanging on, her orgasm hovering on the edge.

“Yes what baby” he runs his tongue over the marks that he has left behind, the marks that litter her collarbone.

“We’re still having fun Fred” she groans when his teeth harshly bite her neck. Fred eyes over to the chair in the corner but you don’t move glaring into his dark brown eyes. He can’t be fucking serious you think to yourself.

It has never been like this. Neither one of you has spent more than five minutes with a woman when the other was there, always sharing equally. But every woman up until this point has made an effort for both of you.

Emily stopped giving Fred a blowjob and walked over to you to pull you to the bed. She whispered in your ear how she wanted you to shove your fingers in her while she blew your best friend. And Sarah had the two of you lying on your backs beside one another and she would spend a few minutes riding one of you before switching to the other. But Katie is different; she is making zero effort to include you, as if she doesn’t even want you there.

His entire hand cups her breast and he continues to forcefully pound into her, her entire body jerking forward with each thrust. His eyes narrow and he pushes her forward so she lands on her hands, her mouth inches from your length.

You think you’ve won, that he has caved but instead he brings a hand up connecting it to her ass. You hear the sound echo through the room, her yelp almost immediately after while the skin of her ass ripples at the contact. You move closer and he brings his hand back slapping the same spot as before, her skin immediately turning red. When her body jolts forward her nose hits your shaft and you moan loudly finally getting some contact.

He soothes over the reddening skin a few times before connecting his hand to it again. The pistoning of his dick has her body jolting forward, each thrust firm and hitting her deep. The burning of her skin makes the tears start to fall down her cheeks. Your hand reaches for her face, your thumb wiping the few tears away.

She whimpers out a soft “please” and you aren’t even sure who she is talking to.

“I’ll stop if you tell him we’re still having fun baby” he says smugly slowing his pace but still driving into her cervix every time. Your eyes snap up and are met with 2 blown pupils. “Tell him it’s not his turn yet.”

Your eyes narrow at his words and you just shake your head. Pure rage coursing through your veins and you are tempted to push him off of her as he snaps his hips once more. Grinning he connects his hand to her ass one more time.

“I mean we both know she can take it, you’ve given her worse” she whimpers at his dominance tone as he aggressively drives into her. “Such. A. Little. Slut” Each word is accompanied by a forceful thrust and he finishes the sentence with another firm slap of the ass.

“Aus” she barely manages to whimper. Her barely audible voice captures your attention and you soothingly rub your thumb over her jaw. “Please” she whimpers practically begging you to stop.

The desperation in her voice is more than you can take. You know the longer you stand there the more he will punish her. It’s agitating how his dominance over Katie keeps you frozen to the sidelines. Keeping your eyes locked on his you take a few steps backwards. There is an arrogance plastered on his face knowing he won. His hand strokes over the red marks covering her ass while he resumes his fast pace once again.

The way her brow furrowed as he hits her deep, her mouth falls open with disbelief, you find yourself bubbling with envy. Katie’s makeup is a mess, mascara running down her cheeks lipstick smeared. Beads of sweat roll down Fred chest while Katie’s moans get louder. Each of his thrusts is accompanied by a moan.

“I can’t” she whines falling further into the bed, her cheek hitting the mattress as her back arches more for him.

Hearing the pleading in her voice, her incoherent sounds, it’s normally all it takes for you to come undone. Finally you notice Fred getting sloppy in his thrusts but he keeps going sensing she is close. She begs him to finish that she can’t handle it but he gives her a couple deep thrusts causing her to squirt all over his cock.

You look away as she screams out, unable to focus. That sound and sight is something you used to relish in, but you have never been so disappointed to see it happen. Disappointed it’s not you. Disappointed she doesn’t want it to be you.

You hear him mumble in Danish behind her before his hips still having spilled in the condom. You are so agitated you can’t even think of your throbbing erection.

He pulls out and falls onto his back pulling her into his chest. They are both breathless and clammy with sweat as he gently rubs a hand over her arm. He begins talking softly in her ear, you only picking up bits and pieces. You hear him ask if she is okay, if she needs anything as he brushes his lips against her temple lightly, Katie only moaning in response.

Stalking off to the bathroom you run a cloth under the tap. Once in the bedroom you toss the towel at Fred, landing at his chest. You see the look on his face but don’t bother to wait any longer, bitterly walking to your dresser and pull out a t-shirt for Katie.

Turning around you almost walk directly into Fred’s body. Gripping your elbow he holds you in place “you okay man” he asks.

“Yeah fine” you reply harshly. Glancing around to Katie she is lying on her back, completely fucked out. A slight moan falls from her lips as you see her breathing begin to steady.

“I’m really sorry man” he turns his attention to Katie at her moan “I don’t know what happened –“ he trails off knowing he overstepped.

“I said it’s fine Fred” you refuse to meet his gaze.

“Tony come on man” he tries to reason “I’m really sorry” he is cut off by a whimper leaving Katie as she rolls onto her side.

“I gotta” you run your hand through your hair. “There’s nothing to worry about. I gotta take care of her, have a good night man.”

He releases your elbow but doesn’t move watching you walk over to Katie bending down in front of her at the side of the bed. You run your hand through her hair, brushing her hair behind her ears. Fred lingers by your dresser for a little bit watching the exchange between you too.

“Hey Kat” you smile when you catch a glimpse of her bright blue eyes.

“Hey” she mumbles groggily, eyes heavy and struggling to stay open.

“Sit up for a sec” she reluctantly obliges and you pull your shirt over her head placing a soft kiss to her forehead. When she loses her energy and falls into the bed you notice Fred has slipped out of the room.

In the shower cold water rolls down your back as you run through tonight. You run through the last 9 months at that, every interaction with Katie. You want to be mad at Fred, but you can’t.

He had no idea how you felt about her. Yes you spend time with her, but you’ve spent time like this with women back in Toronto not meaning anything. There was a girl you kept in contact with for almost two seasons, hanging out with, bringing her to games. You brought her to a team party and even flew her down to Arizona for a few days but it never evolved into anything, he would have no way of knowing Katie was different to you. He actually asked about her a few weeks back and you said you aren’t anything serious.

It wasn’t a complete lie, Katie not looking for anything serious. But you mostly said it because he was wondering why she was blatantly flirting with him. It was more of a way for you to put him at ease over that situation because he was confused by it.

You spend way too much time in there, retracing every moment with Katie. You remember the day in the vintage clothing store, sunsets on your roof or the mornings laughing in bed. You remember the couple days she spent in Toronto. You woke up at 4am to no blankets only to find her in the living room standing at your oversized window wrapped in your duvet watching the snow fall. It was the first time in almost 4 years she had seen snow.

But then you remember why she was there, in Toronto. You only invited her because of Y/N. You had an amazing couple days with Katie, but only because you couldn’t stop thinking of Y/N. Wrapping your hand around your throbbing cock, you know you have to deal with it before bed. You think of Y/N and what she is doing back in Toronto as you tug on yourself. Hand wrapped around your cock you pump it before finally feeling your sticky warmth spill out and onto your hand.

Stepping into your bedroom you see Katie’s hair barely visible under the duvet and pillows. Carlos and Felix have migrated in to the room, and are curled up around her. There is a glass of water and a bottle of Advil on her bedside table that wasn’t there before, and the clothes that once littered the floor are in the hamper.

Fred.

**

“Hey” you say walking into the kitchen after a run a few days later.

“Hey” Fred pops his head around from the stove. “Hungry?”

You nod slightly and he gets a plate ready for you while you pour some water. You and him have talked over the past few days, played some video games and basically acted as if that night didn’t happen. Neither of you broaching the topic yet and because of that there is still some tension.

“I haven’t seen Katie around the past few days” he says bringing some eggs to his mouth.

You clear your throat taking a small sip of water “yeah I haven’t talked to her since” your eyes dart around the kitchen slightly. Taking an exhale you continue “the uh morning after.”

“We should talk about that night –“

“No Fred we don’t have to-“

“Auston seriously…just….I am sorry for how everything played out. I was in a mood and took complete control. But I shouldn’t have done that” his breathing gets uneasy for a moment and he trails off “it shouldn’t have happened like that. And if you’re upset it should be at me, not at her. Katie didn’t do anything. I’m the one that -”

“Fred” you interject turning to look at him. “I’m not upset about that. Like it sucked having to sit and watch but whatever not a big deal.”

“Kay ‘cause it feels weird. Like I can tell something is bugging you.”

“It’s nothing; I just don’t think Katie and I are going to see each other anymore.” Fred immediately stops eating setting his fork down to look at you. “We just want different things” you further explain.

“What?” he asks awkwardly.

“I liked her man” you finally admit to him and you can see him take in a deep exhale his eyes going wide. “But she doesn’t want to be anything more than –“

“Wait, why the fuck did you let me sleep with her if you like her?”

“After she hit on you and teeks I didn’t talk to her for a bit. When we finally did talk she told me she didn’t see anything more than what we have. I thought I was fine with it, you know she is a great girl so I thought I could be around her, keep doing what we’re doing. But then she kissed you.. I just can’t be around her feeling like I do knowing she doesn’t want more. It’s not your fault, has nothing to do with you.”

“Okay but why did you say yes if you felt that way?”

“It was glaringly obvious she wanted to do it” you laugh. “Besides figured might as well go out with a bang.”

“I feel like a big bag of shit” Fred groans clearing both your plates.

“Seriously Fred it’s not a big deal, it’s over and time to move on” you bring your hand to his shoulder and give him a light tap “I’m sure you’ll make it up somehow.”

Throwing his head back with a slight chuckle you give him a shove towards the sliding door, heading out to the pool.

[ohheyitsokay]

classic

pairing: Jack Daniels (Agent Whiskey) x reader

wordcount: 3k

warnings: none, tropes on tropes on tropes, weird descriptions of things

summary: good, old fashioned fan fiction chaos

notes: there’s no getting around it - everything I write with Jack is inevitably influenced and inspired by @scribbledghost s version of him, particularly her neighbor!whiskey. I tried not to, but I still feel I should give credit!

>>

It was the kind of razor your grandfather would have used – more of a knife than anything, because of course it was.

Of course this would be edge that your housemate used to slide along his jaw and chin and cheeks to make that perfect mustache before work in the mornings. He was the type to love old fashioned, traditional, dangerous things - it made sense. After all, that was why you were staying in the guestroom of his ranch home while your apartment was being renovated. Old fashioned courtesy between friends, of course.

Dangerous.

Jack had caught you watching him, impressed in spite of yourself as the sharp blade scraped over his neck, neatly slicing the hairs on his throat, and pushing your heart into yours. It was unnecessarily intense, dramatic, the touch of risk for the sake of vanity. It made you swallow, awed that he wasn’t covered in little cuts, and almost aroused at how casually he used something so akin to a weapon. And that alone made him smirk, cocky, as though he had been waiting for you to notice, hoping to impress you.

A few days later he’d coaxed you to him, settled in a chair with his legs spread wide with confidence as he handed you the tool, smug with confidence – almost a challenge. He had gotten wrecked at work – he actually had, and it was the perfect excuse to draw you close, make you bend to his will. Schoolyard tactics, really, but all of this was, and it was worth it to have your eyes on him alone, face a breath away from his.

It was about trust more than anything. Not that you would ever hurt him, but the power of being over him was heightened by the intimacy as you lathered the cream over his skin.

His deep eyes bore into you, not flickering to the blade as you tried to focus on your task. If he had asked you a different time, another day, you maybe could have refused, but somehow his wanting your steady hand felt heavy with implication.

Ignoring the quickening steps of your heart, your fingers grasped his chin, shaving away the stubble he’d let grow just for this. Each slice of smooth skin revealed left a thick line of froth and hairs on the blade, and you got to breathe as your turned away to wipe it off. You could feel his gaze, still, but you couldn’t bring yourself to meet it. Hovering over him while he was seated, touching his jaw, leaning close, and meeting those brown eyes would have been too much.

Your denial was as a solid as a wall with half sunk into the ground with cement – almost rooted in your fear of rejection.

It was a challenge to ignore the shots of adrenaline that filled you when he’d reach around you to grab something in the fridge, his chest against your back, hand on your hip. Already you had shoved down the butterflies in your stomach when he’d offered you a place to stay, carried your boxes, and called you sweetheart. You had spent far to long ignoring the way he hadn’t brought a single girl home since you’d been there to fold now and admit anything. Because if you did, there was a chance you would lose your friend forever, and that was out of the question.

You kept your eyes down to keep your hands steady.

For his part, Jack’s plan was only half working. He liked your attention, liked the way your breath hitched as you wiped him clean. But you were closer than you had ever been, patting in the aftershave and you wouldn’t look at him, wouldn’t open the door for him to push the tools and towels aside and kiss you. All he wanted was to grab hold of you and pull you into his lap and make you melt against him but there wasn’t a moment.

You’d been friends for a long time, been there for each other countless times and he had yearned for you almost as long. At first, he tried to deny it too, grabbing at random women and hating himself when he imagined they were you as he pulled them into his room.

Then he’d given that up, stopped pretending anyone could replace you, that anyone else occupied his dreams, anyone else could be as good a fit for him, and went after you full speed. It had honestly been innocent to invite you to stay, instinct instilled in him from his childhood. Still, he had begun to see the opportunities for the two of you to enjoy intimate domesticity right away, when he’d cooked you dinner and you’d talked at his table for hours, finally not worried about having to drive home. He ached for that – not ever really having to leave you, and he spent more nights than he’d like to admit thinking of knocking on your door.

Only… you were still in your denial phase. Not sleeping around just pretending it was normal to sink into his arms after a bad day, to let your friend play with your hair until you fell asleep, to watch his lips as you gently helped him shave.

It was too vulnerable, to high of a risk to go after you with the chance that you weren't ready. The last thing he wanted was to scare you away.

-

“What, really?” you said, genuinely surprised. When you’d accepted to stay, he’d promised you there would be no problems, but now you felt guilty.

His mama was coming to town, and would more than likely be staying with him.

“I’ll find somewhere else!”

Jack was already shaking his head at you, like you were missing the joke, but he looked… almost nervous? You couldn’t tell, it wasn’t something you saw on his face often.

“Actually, sweetheart, I was hoping you could do me a favor,” he was asking, but it’s not like you could actually say no you him, when he shot that winning smile your way. It was like not petting a puppy – and you were the opposite of allergic to cowboy secret agents.

“You know Mama Daniels,” he said and you smiled, having spent many a summer helping her in her garden, and being thanked with dinners heavy with butter and love. “She’ll like you here, she’ll be over the damn moon.” And you conceded. It would be more than nice, to spend time with such a wonderful woman, an Jack had invested in a very comfortable couch. For a week you enjoyed a hopeful bliss, that she would help remind you Jack was just your friend.

The sun was shining through the windows, the winding almost singing a quiet, breathy song, and everything was as spotless as you could manage. Well worn quilts were clean, and you had set up a little station for yourself in the living room determined to make it your home for the week.

Then she came with a jacket that matched her slacks and shoes with little buckles and a paisley suitcase full of presents for her son, who she insisted wasn’t really grown. She hugged you and scolded you for being at work instead of coming to pick her up, and finally settled at the kitchen table, her intentions clear. You were to sit and catch up - Jack was already pulling the sweet tea you’d made from the fridge and a reused sewing tin filled with butter cookies appeared out of her purse.

Meekly, you sat, knowing if you didn’t eat the cookies in quantity, she would pout her whole visit. You could feel Jack settle at your side as she talked, warm and solid, a comfort, despite the heat of the day.

The cookies disintegrated on your tongue, melting with a burst of sweet before the bite was gone. They were full of love and maternal affection and things that you hated to spend money on and made all bad thoughts disappear. You were thankful your mouth was full of one when she mentioned, offhandedly, how plum delighted she was when she found out the two of you were finally dating. Abruptly, you remembered just how wrong your previous hope was.

The sweet lady had been hinting for you to marry her son since before he’d mastered his first lasso, and apparently, she was sure that moment was well on its way.

“And living together, no less!” she was beaming with pride, tradition apparently irrelevant as she chatted happily about it.

Turning to the man by your side, you found him choking, trying to breathe through the cookie he’d accidentally inhaled. There was a white ring around his irises as he stared at you, panicking and aptly confused. Sure your face matched his, you jerked your head at his mother, a silent argument ensuing.

Did you do this?

No!

What do we do?

We can’t break her heart!

It went unnoticed. You felt helpless, drinking your tea and trying not to have a small meltdown in front of a very misinformed lady who had brought you cookies.

He was your friend! And sure, you liked the weight of his arm around your shoulders or could get lost in the drawl of his voice but that was normal! It was normal to be so comfortable with him as the beginning, end, and highlight to each of your days.

Sounding weak even to yourself, a crack, solid and formidable, formed in the wall you created to protect yourself and the friendship you had built.

“Ma’am, I’ll be back in a moment,” you whispered, grabbing your phone as you grasped at air, hoping beyond logic that you could pretend it was an important call.

You didn’t exactly run away, but you walked very quickly outside, mourning the loss of your little guestroom, and the privacy it offered.

Jack would never, ever smack his mama but he did want to say some choice words. Nothing could have prepared him for the last two minutes of his life, first the embarrassment of the misunderstanding and then… the fear in your eyes.

He hated it, hated it so much more than he ever thought he could, hated that it was probably his fault it was there. And he hated that it shrouded the longing he had begun to see there, these past few weeks. Long strides carried him after you, hearing his own voice distantly saying words, explaining maybe, as he left the table.

There was a tree, trunk too wide to wrap your arms around, thicket of leaves creating bean-shaped shadow on the ground, by one corner of his home.

You were behind it, almost like a child, letting the bark press lines into your forehead. The dappled lighting did wonders for you – you looked the perfect picture of a storybook wanderer in distress.

Jack slowed, overwhelmed with the desire to encompass you in his arms, slay your dragons, and whisk you away. Now was not the time.

He kept his voice soft, reaching for you in place of his hands, trying hopelessly to find the root of your panic.

You were just as quiet, telling him it was fine, you would pretend, as long as you’d talk tonight, after she went to sleep. His heart was creating dramatic movie scenes where you would float into his room, declaring your love for him, before settling in his arms, but he shook them away, agreeing.

Smile over-bright, you touched his smooth cheek a moment too long, before pushing past him back towards the house.

He allowed the afterglow of his daydream to wash over him only a moment before he jogged go catch up with you.

-

The quilt on Jack’s bed had chickens on it, of all things. It was one of those that had clearly been homemade, years and years ago, taken care of, but worn at the edges with memories and use. One pillow had a dent for his head, the other was squashed into an unrecognizable shape

You didn’t know that it wasn’t like that, before. That his arms had only started searching for something to hold onto since you had been around.

All of his room was new to you – it made you feel strange, realizing that for weeks you’d been in his home but not this part of his space.

The afternoon his mother came, he’d been called into the field. You had never quite seen the look on his face as he reasoning fell on deaf ears – desperation and frustration like ants ruining honey on a picnic. The flannel across his back bunched as his shoulders had filled with tension before he stripped it off to change into his work clothes. Jack kissed his mothers cheek and spewed instructions for the both of you, some apologies spilling out and others kept just behind his eyes as he grasped your hand.

His final command was for your ears alone -  that you take his room, and you’d been too panicked to refuse. The last three days, the smell of him and the memorabilia  scattered around the space kept you company when his mother went to sleep and you slept in his bed for the first time, alone.

It was surprising how sentimental he was. His hooks had another cowboy hat on them, a little wider, brown, and considerably more worn. There was a stack of printed photos in a little box by his bed – it was open, and some of the photos had oil-worn fingerprints along the edges. You found ones of you, and your heart flipped inside your chest.

You should have realized it was impossible to deny yourself, your feelings, with him surrounding you like this. Each thing you learned, each reminder of him practically reached off of the walls, as if he were there, coaxing your heart into his hands. It felt silly, almost, that you even tried to ignore it - you had missed him the moment his hand left yours. Now you had all the time to process, surrounded by his neatly folded shirts and the line of his favorite boots.

The idealized illusion of your relationship had only lasted half a day of living with his mother. Her warm brown eyes were too much like her son’s – you couldn’t lie to them. It was good though, for her to hold your hand a listen to you talk as the birds gossiped outside the window and steam seeped out of the pie you helped her bake. Miraculously, she wasn’t disappointed with you, commending your honestly, and explaining that if she was patient until now, then she could certainly continue to do so.

The more you talked to her, the more you suspected that she was right, all along. She helped you dig up the walls, her kind determination the shovel you needed for those concrete roots.

You would work and talk and tuck yourself into his chicken-clad blanket at night and finally, finally let yourself think of him, allow yourself to be in love with him.  You didn’t know he had started actually living in his room again, when he’d started letting himself love you. That he thought of your smile when he’d found his old quilt. Still, the more you thought, the more you could admit to yourself that maybe, just maybe, he loved you too.

That was how Jack found you - absorbed in your thoughts - the whiskey in his hand as forgotten as the mission and the agent he’d played for the past seventy eight hours and twenty one minutes.

He watched through the half open door, words failing him as you sat up, startled and the way your eyes searched for injuries made him want to eat you alive. 

There was nothing that could’ve prepared him for the sight of you in his bed, even though he had told you to be there and three days to daydream about it. It was intensely intoxicating, having someone care for you so intimately. 

With his sheets sliding down around your waist, you looked as good as the pie on the counter, as if a single snapshot could encompass everything he wanted home to be.

You were wearing a shirt he’d given you, years ago, and he swallowed, hard.

“Are you up for that talk?” his voice was rough. It would have been nice, to relish in the feeling of you checking him over, attention on him as he unwound, but he couldn’t wait. This moment was three days overdue.

“I told your mom we aren’t dating,” you blurted and he smiled, having guessed as much. Smoothing the blanket, your hand patted the spot next to you, your legs crossing.

In that, Jack knew something had changed since he left you. The flickering fear had fled your eyes, and you seemed settled into your skin more than ever before.

He sat next to you, having played over how this talk would go a million times, and still not finding the right words. Confidence was easier to find when he was flirting, poking at you, but seemed foreign in the din lights of his bedroom. Instead he shifted trying to lean back with his arm along the headboard, hoping he didn’t seem like a teenager trying to buy himself time.

You began to talk, saving him, and all the things you’d processed with his mama tumbled out of you before you were realizing that you were confessing how much he truly meant you. In hindsight, it shouldn’t have been strange how comfortable you felt, but in the moment, you were in awe.

Jack was as handsome as always, if a little roughed up, like he’d worn the same clothes a few days in a row. You wanted to run your fingers over the short, patchy beard he had going, and without a second thought, you did, feeling his cheeks move as he smiled crookedly and leaned into the touch.

There was only a moment of quiet, crickets outside, before he said, “I missed you, too.” And then, “Will you stay, sweetheart?”

When you whispered, “Where else would I go?” he kissed you.

It was late, and there were still words unsaid, questions to be answered, but you both let yourselves get lost, exploring each other. Long moments passed, letting all the pent up yearning overflow like cool water after a long, hot day. Then the next steps came out, whispered between kisses and as he moved over you, shucking the final walls between you, you found yourselves actually dating, and maybe even actually living together. 

Old fairy tales and historic romances played in the back of your mind, inserting their logic into your life like had never quite made sense before.

And you wondered if you had time in the morning, and his mama didn’t give you too much grief, if he would let you help him shave, and eat pie for breakfast. Because for the life of you, you couldn’t think of a single reason why not.

<<

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↪ 𝗰𝗮𝗿𝗲𝗲𝗿 𝘄𝗼𝗺𝗮𝗻 :

𝘳𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘱𝘭𝘢𝘤𝘦 𝘳𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦 𝘴𝘦𝘲𝘶𝘦𝘭 

𝙘𝙝𝙖𝙥𝙩𝙚𝙧 𝙤𝙣𝙚 - 

𝘀𝘆𝗻𝗼𝗽𝘀𝗶𝘀 : 𝘵𝘦𝘯 𝘺𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘴 𝘢𝘧𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘳𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘱𝘭𝘢𝘤𝘦, 𝘳𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦, 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳, 𝘯𝘰𝘸 𝘪𝘯 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘭𝘺 30𝘴, 𝘩𝘢𝘴 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘤𝘢𝘳𝘦𝘦𝘳, 𝘱𝘦𝘰𝘱𝘭𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘤𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘥𝘴 𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘴𝘦𝘭𝘧 𝘵𝘰 𝘣𝘦 𝘪𝘯 𝘢 𝘮𝘶𝘤𝘩 𝘪𝘮𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘥 𝘱𝘭𝘢𝘤𝘦 𝘪𝘯 𝘭𝘪𝘧𝘦. 

𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗱 𝗰𝗼𝘂𝗻𝘁 : 4𝘬+ 

𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀 : 𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘤𝘩𝘪𝘭𝘥 𝘯𝘦𝘨𝘭𝘦𝘤𝘵, 𝘦𝘮𝘰𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴

they say that time passes in the blink of an eye, days turn to weeks, weeks turn to months, and months turn to years. this is both true and utterly wrong.  because despite the fact that it was coming up on ten years since you'd left colombia behind, all at the same time, it felt like yesterday, but also as if it had been twenty years. at first it had been hard, moving back in with your mama and papa. you wanted to be ashamed that you had finally proven them right, that you were too young and immature to move to colombia on your own, and that, eventually, you'd be returning to them in tears. while this was correct, you were all the more surprised at the fact that you were welcomed with open arms, no judgement to found, finding that they were more so just happy to have their baby girl back. as before, despite the fact that that had been nearly ten years ago, the memory still pulled at your heart strings even to this day. one of the nicer memories to string back to your departure from colombia, rather than the ones that were the bane of your existence and you avoided recalling with all of your might, the ones that only crept their way back into your head after one too many glasses of wine. memories such as crying almost every night for the first week or so of being back in san francisco, laying in bed at night, unable to sleep purely because you were kept up by the sheer terror at the idea that you'd made the wrong decision and that life was only going to continuously go ever more downhill from here. it took another year for you to move out of your parents place, despite their insistence that you were welcome to stay longer, and moved into your own small apartment. it was lonely for the first month or so, but your newly acquired job as a receptionist at the law firm just around the corner was convenient and decent money, enough to maintain and semi comfortable lifestyle, even if some dinners for a week were nothing but ramen on the weeks that your landlord decided you'd used the washing machine one too many times. even if he was a bit of scumbag, it was enough for you, nothing you couldn't handle with reminders of how much worse it could be, reminding yourself to stay grateful for what you didn't have to deal with, in comparison to what you did. it was a relative uneventful 2 year's of that same apartment, apart from a few family weddings and quince's you had to attend, as well as a promotion after a year at the law firm.  as the 80's slowly transferred into the 90's, you were pleasantly surprised to see all the changes forming around women in the workplace, suddenly, it was as if a whole new world of opportunity was available to you.  you found yourself doing something you thought was closed off to you the moment you left, only now, you were back, the world was at your fingertips. it only took you another 2 years of what could only be described as floundering, feeling nothing but numbness as you went back to the same job every day, only to go back home to an empty and quiet apartment, to decide to go to school.  never one to take the simple option, you of course opted to begin preparation for a phD. keeping your receptionist job but also taking on the occasional spanish lesson and translating job to those who needed it, already planning to begin saving money where you could.  the first two years of obtaining your masters was stressful to say the least, but you couldn't say it wasn't giving you something to occupy your time with, time that wasn't spent thinking of colombia. time spent not thinking of him. the reason you'd sworn of dating the moment you stepped foot back in san francisco, only to be even more so when you began school. never again were you going to let your heart drag you down, you'd put your foot down, tired of crying over a man who had likely forgotten who you were in the first year of your absence. from now on, your purpose was to serve yourself, and only yourself. or at least, that was the plan, a plan you'd stayed true to for the first two years, gaining your masters and even in the beginning stages of gaining your phD. contrary to the gossip sessions countless tia's held about your love life and your weakness as a hopeless romantic, your promise to only serve yourself was not broken with a romance, but rather, a friendship. hitting the magic 30 was supposed to be an experience that women dreaded, a time spent crying over red wine about the fact that they were finally starting to age. instead, you'd found it to be a liberating experience, having begun teaching only 10 months short of your 30th birthday.  it hadn't taken long for you to become friendly with most of your students, you were easy enough to talk to and most of them were pleasant to teach. despite the occasional disrespect here and there, it wasn't difficult to straighten them back up, wasting no time reminding them of the fact that were more than welcome to leave the class should they find the material uninteresting. a reminder that often shut them up. it was safe to say that it didn't take you long to fall in love with teaching, unable to hide the fact that you saw so much of yourself in your students, taking the steps that you first had when moving back here.  and while you had friendly relationship's with your students, it was inevitable before you couldn't stop yourself from intervening. alex raya was a sweet kid, filipino american with an almost always goofy attitude, but still always handed in his assignments right on time, honestly a pleasure to have in class.  it was at first hard to put in the words the dynamic that began between you two, beginning to day he'd handed in an assignment late for the first time in the 7 months you'd been teaching him. you couldn't help yourself, you wouldn't have been able to forgive yourself if you hadn't check up on him. so when you'd asked to see him after class, the expression on his poor little face broke your heart.  gone was the positive attitude that alex always brought to class, only replaced by a quiet young man who could barely even look you in the eye as he sat across from your desk. it wasn't hard for you to realize that alex raya had never experienced any form of parental concern in his entire life, because the moment you asked him if everything was ok, and he realized that you meant it, he broke down.  through his laboured breathing, he explained to you that he and his father had had a screaming match over the phone, and that his money was being cut off, and that now his landlord was demanding the rent, otherwise he was going to be kicked out.  you couldn't help but take pity on him, only getting up from your desk to give him a hesitant hug before promising him you were going to help him get this fixed.  you let him come over to your apartment for dinner that night, even if it wasn't exactly a home cooked meal, oven pizza seemed only slightly better than ramen, not that you would have known it by the way that he practically demolished the pieces he was given, only to let him finish yours when you realized how hungry the poor kid was.  not at all shy about opening up to you whatsoever, alex was more than happy to explain his situation, confiding into you practically his entire childhood. as he went on and on, detailing the emotional neglect he suffered throughout his childhood, up until leaving home to attend college, you couldn't hide the few small tears escaping your eyes. that was the night you took alex raya under your wing officially.  it wasn't hard to scrounge up enough money to save his small apartment for that week, convincing him to sell his super nintendo along with a few nice branded items, however, was much harder. from that point on, it became a regular routine of yours to go to alex's and cook him one big dinner, allowing for pre packed meals to be stored in his fridge, as well as helping him out with his schoolwork, promising you'd be able to get him by even with the missed assignment.  he'd always told he was going to pay you back one day, which you'd only reply to by shushing him and insisting that getting a job and keeping up with his schoolwork was payment enough. you even helped him get a job. the benefit of having relatives all over san francisco meant that it only took three phone calls before you were able to get him an interview at a bowling alley that your cousin owned, by that week he was a new employee.  it took hitting you 30th birthday to be able to admit to yourself that you had begun to see alex as a son. even if you were only 14 years older than him, it was enough for you to take on the role of the mother he was never able to have with ease.  he even started to jokingly call you tiya, explaining it meant 'aunty' in tagalog. you'd be lying if you said it hadn't warmed your heart to be told that, and that you had to go into the bathroom so he wouldn't see you making sure your mascara wasn't running.  it wasn't to say that your kindness wasn't repaid though, in his own little ways, alex was looking after you as well, even if not directly.  it was always the little things with alex, your own personal alarm clock as well as your reminder that it was ok to go to sleep after five hours of sitting on your couch grading papers. especially when on your 30th, you found a card on your desk signed by him wishing you a happy birthday, along with a little note on the bottom making a snarky crack about the fact that you were 'now the big three o, tiya!! live it up!!'  it now sat on your book shelf, always there to remind you of the young man you now considered a son figure.  after nearly a year, you even decided to take him to one of your family dinners where everybody, cousins, nieces, tia's, everybody, met up for a big feast. not only was he welcome, he was welcomed with open arms, and by the end of the night was considered a part of your family, especially after the right of passage when all of your little cousins were practically climbing him and giggling away. it was honestly safe to say that being able to support and care for somebody else for the first time in nearly five years had brought meaning back into your life.  it had been sealed when three months prior, you had seen on your television set that pablo escobar had finally died, killed and his body displayed for all to see in the polaroids that found there ways to the wrong place. one particular polaroid stood out to you, because staring back at you, smiling into the camera while holding up pablo's dead body by the sleeve of his shirt, was steve murphy.  you couldn't exactly say you and steve murphy had ever held more than two minute conversation in the past, but seeing his face was more than enough to have you rushing to turn off the tv and placing your head in your hands as memories came flooding back like a tidal wave from hell, washing emotions of all different kinds over you.  as if he were your guardian angel, it was by sheer coincidence that nearly 15 minutes into what you realized was nothing short of a minor breakdown, alex arrived for for weekly dinner, only to see you on the couch shaking and breathing rapidly.  if somebody were to have seen the way in which he'd rushed to your aid, pulling you into his arms and rapidly asking you what was wrong with desperate panic lacing his voice, they'd be able to say that the strong emotional ties you'd developed to the boy were well and truly mutual.  in the same way he'd opened up to you a year before, it was your turn to open up about your life prior to being his teacher.  you'd kept a skillful veil up, hiding the parts of your life which you desperately wanted to remain unknown. so much so that almost nobody but your close family knew of your time in colombia, living in the middle of a drug war, and how you'd returned to the states in order to change that.  you spared any all details about him, not even wanting speak his name as you told your story as if he hadn't existed in the first place, owing your sudden move from colombia to the sudden intensity of the drug war and how you feared for your life.  you even showed in polaroids you'd kept in a journal, smiling softly through your slowing breaths and you pointed to a photo of you and your boss outside the bodega you'd worked at, both of you grinning. in an odd way, it felt weird looking back at photos of yourself when you were alex's age, especially considering the fact that it felt like barely any time had passed, when in reality, it had been 6 or 7 years since you'd left colombia at that stage.  just as you were starting to calm down, alex turned the page, only to reveal a photo that made your heart sink to the ground as memories, just as they had previously, hit you like a speeding train. -  "what are you doing." javi's deep voice broke the silence that had previously been looming in his lounge as he sat there nursing a cigarette in his mouth and intently reading a file, not bothering to look up at you as you stood up, reaching into your bag sitting beside the door. "nothing. hold still." you ordered, pulling your polaroid camera out of it's case as you pulled the strap over your head and rested it at your neck.  he still didn't look up, doing as promised as you held the camera up to your eye, trying to angle the shot as best as you could, even with the orange light of the sunrise shone through the windows. it was only when the camera flashed that he finally looked up, not in alarm, but more so in amusement as you grinned, grabbing the polaroid as it zipped out of the small opening at the front. placing the camera and the polaroid down on the table, you sat beside javi, leaning your head against his shoulder and kissing his golden skin softly as he closed the file and threw it onto the table. -  you weren't surprised when alex asked who the guy in the picture was, the one looking intently at a file while a cigarette hung from his mouth. you wouldn't have expected any less from alex, hell, you probably would have asked too. after nearly 7 years of being fine, not letting yourself be reminded of what you'd left behind and the reason you had to do so, and now, all it took was one news report and a polaroid to have you crashing back down.  not able to reply for the first few seconds, only staring down at the photo before alex called you back into reality, asking if you were ok. of course your response was to take the photo album off of your hands and slam it closed, practically throwing it on the other end of the couch as if it were a hot plate, only to calmly take a breath, quietly informing alex that the man in the picture was 'nobody.'  there was no doubt in your mind that alex didn't believe you, you could tell by the look on his face, you'd grown to be able to read his face like a children's book, always knowing if something was wrong or if he was lying about something. you hadn't even thought about the fact that he'd very likely grown to be able to read you in the same way.  this was the same reason as to why he dropped the subject entirely, pressing it further wasn't going to help you and he knew that.  that was the only slip up you'd had regarding your past, since then, you'd managed to keep your past fully concealed. even if it wasn't a particularly malicious secret, it was more so treated in the sense that it was not something you wanted to relive, and having had enough experience with the way gossip spreads in the teachers lounge, you knew you would never live it down should it get out. you would forever be known as the student teacher who had her heart broken so she fled colombia to avoid the shame. that wasn't who you wanted to be, you'd fled so that you could live a life without javier peña and you'd been doing so successfully. you were no longer the silly 22 year old girl who let her heart dictate her life and allow some stupid little man to ruin it all for her. you were a fucking career woman as far as you were concerned, there was no more room in your life for that anymore, and you were going to try your damnedest to keep it that way. no more will you allow yourself to fall to the whim's of a little girls failed attempt at playing house with somebody who couldn't even have the balls to admit you were nothing more than a booty call. -  with nearly two more years passing, you were growing closer to finally getting your phD, you and alex had only grown closer, especially now that he was happily living with a girlfriend and had become manager at the bowling alley. though you still continued your weekly dinners, he was still your student after all.  it was no more than a month after your 32nd birthday, standing by the counter in the teachers lounge, stirring the coffee in your mug, staring down as the dark brown colour faded to a light brown as you mixed your milk into it.  already suffering from limited sleep due to the fact that your neighbours had decided to have yet another screaming match until the ungodly hour of 3:30 in the morning, you were dealing with forcing yourself to smile and nod along as your coworker was already talking your ear off.  "so basically, i told him if he was going to talk to me like that, there was a perfectly good couch for him to sleep on tonight." she continued ranting about her on and off boyfriend, somehow unable to tell that you were barely paying attention, only just nodding on as she kept on going. she was nice, you could give her that, but it was once again just stark different between 25 and 32 that the two of you were stuck with. you hoped to god to weren't like that with the other teachers when you first started, but there was really no way to know for sure. admittedly, your lack of sleep was not only due to next doors argument, but also because you were already having trouble sleeping anyway.  it was coming up to be 10 years since you'd left colombia, an anniversary that left you with so many mixed feelings, one part was a sickening feeling in your stomach as you remembered everything to do with the drug wars, bodies on the news and other horrifying things even to this day were in your dreams to haunt you. but then there was also the emotion and memories connected to colombia, hell, the reason you almost wanted to go back a year after escobar was killed, but stopped yourself just as you were looking up the prices of tickets, deciding it was best to quit while you were ahead. you couldn't say the beginning of your morning had been all bad. the moment it hit 7 am, your phone went off, only to see an unknown number, and when you answered, you had to stop yourself from tearing up when you heard the oh so familiar voice of your old boss greeting you with the ever classic "hola miha! long time no talk aye?"  in an instant, it was as if you had never left, that you were 23 all over again and back in that crummy little bodega to sell cheap cigarettes and cans of baby formula that were far too expensive to connie. now completely in his early 70s, his nephew was now running the bodega, while he once again was keeping to his telenovela's, as per usual, explaining that he'd found your number after recognising your name in the phone book and deciding to give you a call. the two of you talked for at least a solid 45 minutes, ended with you promising you were going to call him again but that you had a class in 40 minutes and that you really needed to go. as if nothing had changed, he teased you about your teaching position, before wishing you all the best and hanging up.  your old boss' call had brought a sad smile to your face, but all at once, had also brought a horrifying thought that invaded your head before you could even think.  'should you dare ask about him the next time you talk to your boss?'  there was no doubt in your mind that he never went to that bodega again after you left. he wouldn't have been able to resist those cheap cigarettes. resisting the urge to slap yourself so as to not look like a manic should somebody walk in, you instead shook your head a bit and reminded yourself in your head of the promises you'd made to yourself years previously, reminding yourself that you were far, far better than this. even ten years later, you were better than the girl you were back in colombia. you deserved better.  - having well and truly calmed yourself down, you left the teachers lounge and began the path down the winding hallways towards your classroom, you shoes clicking along the floor as you struggled to look for your keys under the big pile of files that you were holding in your hand.  hearing footsteps behind you, you didn't look up from your bag as you quickly recognised the voice of your coworker behind you calling you by your last name, a form of teacher's lingo that you'd just grown to accept, already beginning to talk to you as you continued to walk up the stairs to the classroom.  "i've got a guest speaker with me who spoke at my criminology lecture yesterday, and i was thinking they should speak for criminal psychology as well yknow? that could be real good for your students."  only nodding your head, you reached the top of the stairs, still not turning around. "uh, yeah sure, they need a break from my lectures anyway, send them my way for this lesson." finally reaching your door, you found your keys and began to unlock the door, pushing it open and walking, only to be followed in by your coworker, who smiled brightly.  "that's awesome, i think he's just getting a coffee last i saw him. you'll love him." nodding, you began to organise the files on your desk hurriedly, knowing that you were already running a bit behind due to your boss' phone call.  "i'm sure we'll get along fine." you sighed, still not 100% paying attention to the conversation. "well i mean, your colombian right? yknow ca-" "i'm not colombian, i use to live there." ignoring the part about the fact that he'd somehow found out you had any sort of association with colombia, too tired and somewhat stressed to care right that second.  "he was in colombia for awhile too, during the drug wars and stuff! he was a dea agent."  in that very moment, it was as if time slowed down, your surroundings started to disappear and the files in your hands flowed out onto the desk, as if your hands faded out of existence. nothing in your mind was happening except pure, white hot panic. turning around slowly, trying to gather yourself, you took in a deep breathe. praying oh so desperately that it was anybody but who you were terrified that was. hell, at this point, you'd take steve murphy, just, please, please, please. don't let it be him.  "what was his name.." 

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