#he is a firm believer that vapes are not bad

[until-the-house-shakes]

Regulus: *smoking a cigarette*

Sirius: *hit vape*

Sirius: you know that shit is going to kill you one day right?

[marsplastic13]

'Complicated' (part 18) - Kaz Brekker x Reader

Idea - Kaz Brekker hires a prostitute to overcome his touch aversion, and be a better man for Inej, but things take an unxepected turn.

Pairing: Kaz Brekker x Prostitute!Reader, (had to use y/n because I'm bad at names)

Genre: modern AU, slow burn

word count: 7.7k

notes: since it took me so much to update only fluff for now <3

@millercontracting @coldmermaidhologram @syd649

@luffysprincess @cryptidghostgirl @beekeepingageissome

@hufflepuff-16 @lukepattersin @jay-is-a-pinguin @le-clair-de-lune

Finally, they were driving to their new house for the first night. The interior of the car was lit by the streetlights that flickered past, casting fleeting shadows across the leather seats. 

Y/N, seated in the passenger side, was trying to keep her vape out of Kaz's reach. She held it up just beyond his grasp, teasing him with the occasional puff of vapor that curled through the air. Kaz, focused on the road, shot her amused glances, his eyes flickering between the rearview mirror and the road ahead.

Kaz leaned over slightly, attempting to snatch the vape with a playful grin. “Come on, just one,” he murmured, his tone light.

Y/N laughed softly, keeping the vape just out of reach. “Yeah, if you catch it,” she replied, her voice a mix of mischief and affection.

But the moment of levity was abruptly shattered by the crack of a gunshot. The car jolted as a bullet whizzed past, grazing the side of the vehicle with a sharp, metallic sting. Y/N's heart leaped into her throat, her eyes widening in shock.

Without missing a beat, Kaz’s reflexes kicked in. He thrust Y/N’s head down toward the footwell, his face hardening into a mask of grim determination. Another bullet ricocheted off the car’s frame, sending a shiver through the metal.

“Are they shooting at us?” Y/N asked, panicked. 

“Are you really asking me that?” Kaz’s voice was tight with both urgency and disbelief. He shot a quick glance into the rearview mirror, but the darkness outside rendered the pursuing car a shadowy, indistinguishable blur. The soft hum of the engine was punctuated by the sharp, menacing sound of gunfire. “Love, there’s a hidden compartment in the dashboard. The key is in my pocket. You’ll find a gun in there. I need you to pass it to me and keep your head down.”

Y/N’s breath came in shallow, panicked bursts. She stared at Kaz, eyes wide, as the reality of their situation sunk in. The interior of the car felt like a confined battlefield. “I can’t fucking believe this,” she muttered, her voice trembling.

Kaz felt her trembling hand searching in his pocket. The situation was quickly unraveling, and his focus remained on the road, dodging the bullets that continued to whiz past with a high-pitched, deadly whine. The car shook with each impact, a harsh reminder of the danger they were in. His knuckles whitened as he gripped the steering wheel, trying to keep the car steady while the night outside blurred into a chaotic smear of dark and light.

Y/N finally managed to pull out the gun from the compartment, her fingers gripping it with fear. She handed it over to Kaz, her eyes darting nervously between him and the road. “Y/N, I need you to take the wheel,” he said, his voice firm despite the chaos.

“What?” Y/N’s disbelief was evident. Her gaze was fixed on Kaz, searching for any sign that this was some sort of sick joke.

“Can we fight about it later? Take the wheel,” Kaz insisted, his tone brooking no argument. His gaze was fierce and determined, his hands already moving to unbuckle his seatbelt.

With her heart racing, Y/N reached for the steering wheel, her movements tentative but desperate. The car wobbled slightly as she adjusted her grip, but she managed to steady it. Kaz wasted no time; he unbuckled his seatbelt and opened his window, the rush of cool night air filling the car and mingling with the acrid scent of gunpowder.

He took a brief, sharp look at Y/N, who had her head down, and was half over him. “You’re right, you look good from up here,” he said with a fleeting, almost ironic smile.

“KAZ!” Y/N’s voice was filled with frustration and fear, her heart pounding in her chest.

Kaz chuckled despite the situation, a sound that was almost incongruous with the danger they faced. He leaned out of the window, his torso exposed to the night air as he aimed carefully at the pursuing car. The wind whipped at his face, and he could hear the distant echo of more gunfire as he took a deep breath.

“Y/N, tell me if I have to hit the brake. You’re my eyes right now,” Kaz instructed, his voice steady as he focused on the task at hand. He took his time to line up his shot, his concentration absolute as he squeezed the trigger. The gunfire cracked sharply, and the first tire of the car behind them exploded in a burst of rubber and debris.

Kaz pulled his head back inside quickly, narrowly avoiding a spray of bullets that whizzed past where his head had been moments before. He gave Y/N a fleeting, worried glance as he caught his breath. “Have I ever told you that I love you?” he asked, his voice tinged with a rare softness.

Y/N’s response was lost amidst the cacophony of their surroundings, but Kaz didn’t wait to hear it. He shot out the other front wheel with practiced precision before retreating back into the safety of the car. He slid back into the driver’s seat with a grim look of determination.

“Keep your head down. We’re going to a safe house,” Kaz said, his tone leaving no room for discussion. He turned his attention back to the road, his hands steady on the wheel.

The night was filled with the oppressive silence that followed a storm. The car’s tires roared against the pavement as Kaz navigated them away from danger. The road ahead stretched out into darkness, offering a tenuous promise of safety. The sound of their own breathing, ragged and heavy, filled the car as they drove in tense, strained silence. Kaz’s mind raced through their options, his gaze constantly shifting between the road and the rearview mirror.

They arrived at the house just as Jesper pulled up behind them. The night air was thick with tension and the lingering smell of gunpowder. Kaz eased the car into the driveway, the headlights casting a harsh glow over the darkened front yard. The engine sputtered to a stop, and the car’s frame, now marred with bullet holes and dings, seemed to sigh in relief.

Kaz stepped out of the car and surveyed the damage, his face a mask of grim resignation. His fingers traced the contours of a particularly large dent, a reminder of the chaos they had narrowly escaped. “My poor car,” he sighed, his voice tinged with a blend of frustration and sadness.

Y/N, still shaken, flung open her door and stormed over to him. Her voice was sharp with anger and fear. “Your car? You’re worried about your car? That could’ve been our skulls, Kaz! How can you be so focused on that?”

Kaz met her gaze, his eyes filled with regret and resolve. “I know, love. I’ll handle it. I’m sorry.”

Y/N threw her hands up in exasperation. “I am fucking scared! First, you destroy someone’s car right in front of me, then someone starts shooting at us. What the fuck, Kaz?”

Before Kaz could respond, Jesper stepped in, his calm demeanor a stark contrast to the heated exchange. “Y/N, you’re right. But we should get inside and secure the place. We can’t do that if we’re out here arguing.”

Y/N huffed, but she reluctantly followed Jesper into the house, her arms crossed tightly over her chest. The door slammed behind her with a definitive thud, and the house was enveloped in a tense silence. 

Inside, the house was a blend of shadow and muted light. Y/N sank onto the couch, her posture rigid as she pulled out her phone, scrolling absently but clearly preoccupied. Her face was a mix of exhaustion and lingering fear, her earlier anger now tempered by the aftermath of their harrowing escape.

Kaz and Jesper retreated to the kitchen, the low murmur of their voices drifting into the living room. They spoke in low tones, discussing their next moves, the logistics of securing the house, and how to deal with their pursuers. Kaz’s mind was partially on the conversation, but he kept glancing toward the living room, his eyes drifting to Y/N’s curled form on the couch.

He saw her huddled there, her phone’s screen casting a pale light on her face, the tense lines around her eyes softened only slightly by the glow. It wasn’t how he had envisioned their first night in their house—far from it, he thought they would at least manage to arrive there. 

Once Jesper left, Kaz took a deep breath and approached Y/N. He sank down beside her on the couch, his expression softening as he reached out and gently squeezed her thigh. “How mad are you?” he asked, his voice low and gentle.

Y/N turned to him, her eyes still wide with lingering fear. “A lot. It was really scary,” she admitted, her voice breaking slightly.

“I know,” Kaz said, his tone full of sincerity. “I’m sorry.”

He carefully pulled her into his embrace, his arms wrapping around her in a comforting hold. He forced her to look up at him, his eyes searching hers. “You stopped to tell me that you loved me while they were shooting at us,” she said in disbelief, a small smile tugging at her lips despite the fear that still lingered. 

Kaz chuckled softly, a warm, albeit rueful, smile touching his lips. “I might have, yeah,” he said, his voice carrying a hint of playful resignation.

Y/N shook her head, her earlier frustration now softened into something more affectionate. A smile began to spread across her face, and she leaned into Kaz’s embrace, her eyes reflecting a mixture of amusement and warmth. “Unbelievable,” she repeated, her tone light yet filled with a tender affection that contrasted sharply with the night’s earlier intensity.

Kaz glanced down at Y/N’s phone, which she was now holding in one hand. “What are you reading?” he asked, his curiosity piqued.

Y/N turned the phone slightly towards him, a mischievous glint in her eye. “Fanfiction,” she said with a nonchalant shrug.

Kaz squinted at the screen, trying to make sense of the words that swirled across it. He frowned as he read a few lines, his brows knitting together in confusion. “That’s porn,” he observed, his voice tinged with bewilderment as he tried to reconcile what he was seeing.

Y/N’s response was another casual, almost indifferent shrug. “We just said exactly the same thing, baby,” she replied, a hint of amusement in her voice. She snuggled deeper into Kaz’s side, getting more comfortable as she continued scrolling through her fanfiction.

Kaz remained confused, his mind struggling to process the incongruity of the situation. He glanced back at Y/N, who seemed entirely unfazed by the dissonance. Her fingers moved over the screen, and she seemed completely absorbed in her reading.

Despite his initial confusion, Kaz found himself chuckling again, this time with bewildered affection. He wrapped his arm more securely around Y/N, pulling her closer. 

Y/N looked up at him, her smile widening. “Sometimes you need a little distraction after a night like tonight.”

Kaz shook his head in amused resignation, the warmth of Y/N’s presence easing the last remnants of the night’s tension. He settled into the couch with her, his earlier worries momentarily forgotten as he enjoyed the simple comfort of being close to her. The world outside felt distant and irrelevant compared to the warmth and intimacy they shared in that moment.

As they sat together, the soft glow of the phone screen casting faint shadows across their faces, Kaz found himself appreciating the surreal normalcy of the moment. It was a peculiar way to end a chaotic night, but it was theirs, and that was enough.

***

Kaz was outside the Crow Club, leaning on his motorcycle, his posture relaxed yet vigilant. The car was still at the mechanic’s, a testament to their recent narrow escape. He idly played with one of the helmets, his mind a mix of thoughts when he saw Anika approaching her car nearby.

“Are you waiting for someone?” she asked, nodding towards the two helmets.

“No, I like to be extra safe,” Kaz replied flatly, his tone deadpan.

Anika rolled her eyes, but there was a playful glint in them. She hesitated, then decided to continue. “I know you’re not one for gossip, but there’s something I have to ask you.”

Kaz raised an eyebrow, curious despite himself. “Let’s hear it.”

“So, there’s this rumor that you and Inej broke up and that you have a new girlfriend. Some people are even saying that you’re living together. I mean, it’s not true, right?”

Kaz smirked, a slow, confident curve of his lips. “It is true.”

Anika’s eyes widened in surprise. “No way. Do I know her?”

Kaz’s smirk deepened into a crooked smile as he glanced at his watch. “Actually, yes. She should arrive any minute. You have some time to guess.”

Anika took the challenge seriously, blurting out wild guesses that ranged from absurd to plausible. 

“Alright, how about Tamsin from the bar? She’s always been into you,” Anika continued, her tone becoming more speculative.

“Wrong again,” Kaz replied, amusement evident in his eyes.

“Okay, this one’s a long shot,” Anika said, her voice filled with playful exasperation. “Is it Petra, the one who always beats everyone at poker night?”

Kaz’s smile widened. “Nice try, but no.”

Anika tapped her chin, her eyes sparkling with curiosity. “You’re really making this difficult, Kaz. Is it that new dancer at the club? The one who’s been performing on Fridays?”

Kaz laughed, the sound warm and genuine. “Nope, keep trying.”

Kaz listened with a faint smile, enjoying the game. After several guesses, she spotted Y/N approaching.

“Oh, hi! What are you doing here? You disappeared so early on Saturday!” Anika greeted y/n with a cheek kiss, her curiosity piqued.

“Yeah, I found this super hot guy and fled as soon as I could,” y/n replied, her eyes lingering on Kaz with a mischievous glint.

Kaz tried to conceal a snort with a cough, the sound barely disguising the rush of memories that flooded his mind. He was transported back to the previous Saturday night, where the party’s thumping bass and boisterous laughter had been a stark contrast to the heated scene unfolding in his study. The room had been dark, the flickering light from a single lamp casting shadows that danced across the walls as the music from the party downstairs created a pulsating rhythm in the background.

y/n had been bent over his desk, her hands gripping the edge for support. The desk was strewn with papers and half-empty glasses, the clutter a testament to the chaotic energy of the party. Her moans, although muffled by the music, had created a melody all their own. Each sound she made had vibrated through the room, creating a private symphony that contrasted sharply with the public revelry just beyond the door.

Kaz had watched her with awe and possessiveness, feeling the heat of the moment as he moved in rhythm with her. The music’s thudding bass seemed to sync with their own pace, creating a unique harmony that only they could fully appreciate. The disarray of the room and the distant party noises had seemed like a surreal backdrop to their intensely personal encounter.

He remembered the way her body had responded to him, how her breaths had quickened and her grip had tightened as they lost themselves in the moment. It was as if the world outside had ceased to exist, leaving only the two of them and the electric connection they shared.

The rush of warmth he felt now, while thinking back on that night, was palpable.Kaz kept his composure, focusing on the present and the playful banter with Anika, but the memory lingered in his thoughts.

“I just discovered that the rumors about Kaz’s new girlfriend are true. She’s coming here,” Anika said excitedly, her eyes darting around as if expecting the mysterious girlfriend to appear any moment.

“No way,” laughed y/n, her eyes sparkling with amusement.

“But look at you all dressed up! What are you doing tonight?” Anika asked, admiring y/n’s outfit, casual elegance that suggested she had plans for a special evening.

“Him,” y/n replied simply, nodding towards Kaz with a confident, knowing smile.

Anika’s mouth dropped open in shock, and then she burst into laughter. “You’ve got to be kidding me. You two?”

“Yeah,” y/n shrugged, moving closer to Kaz, her eyes twinkling with amusement.

Anika’s eyes widened further, darting between Y/N and Kaz, and then to Kaz’s arm casually draped around Y/N’s waist. “I didn’t even think you’d know each other. I can’t believe this,” she said clearly surprised. “You two are so... different.”

Kaz grinned, pulling Y/N even closer, clearly enjoying Anika’s reaction. “Opposites attract,” he said with a smirk, his tone light yet filled with an undeniable affection.

“And you’re living together? Already?” Anika’s voice rose slightly, still processing the news.

“Yeah, it was a,” Kaz gazed at y/n’s lips, his voice softening, “an impulsive decision.”

Anika crossed her arms, her brow furrowed. “I just can’t wrap my head around this. You’ve always been so private, Kaz. And Y/N, you’re the exact opposite! I know exactly what you did today from your Instagram!”

y/n was about to reply when something in Anika’s mind clicked. Her eyes widened with realization. “Wait a minute. You’re telling me that all those hands, shoulders, and hair I see in her stories, it’s you?”

“Yep,” Kaz replied, a hint of amusement in his voice.

Anika’s jaw dropped further, disbelief etched across her face. “I can’t believe this. All those little hints. Like that story you posted the other day, where there was a head on your lap, and you were like in bed, I think?”

“Yes, him, first night in the new house,” y/n said, leaning into Kaz, a mischievous smile on her lips.

Anika’s eyes darted between them, still trying to piece everything together. “And the shadowy figure helping you cook in that TikTok from last week?”

Kaz chuckled softly. “Helping is a big word. I was accidentally passing by.”

“And that video! The one where you wrote ‘Spoiled,’ it was—”

“Still him,” laughed y/n. “You really follow me carefully, Anika.”

Kaz shook his head, remembering the video. It showed y/n’s face, her eyes closed in bliss as she soaked in a bathtub. His hand came into frame, placing a chocolate into her mouth. “That was really unnecessary,” he murmured.

“It’s just… wow. So difficult to imagine you together,” Anika said, her voice filled with awe and skepticism. “Don’t get it the wrong way, but I thought that your respective types were much different.”

Kaz, aware of where this conversation was heading and intent on avoiding a discussion about his past with Inej, decided to shift the focus. He handed a helmet to y/n and clicked the cane into its support on the bike. “Time to go, love. See you tomorrow, Anika.”

He swung his leg over the bike and settled into his seat, casting a quick, reassuring glance at y/n. 

y/n adjusted her helmet and gave Kaz a smile that was both warm and mischievous, before disappearing behind the black visor. She climbed onto the bike, her movements fluid and practiced. As she settled into place, her arms wrapped around his waist, and Kaz felt the comforting pressure of her body against his back. The connection was immediate, grounding him in a way that nothing else did.

The familiarity of the moment—y/n’s presence next to him, her body pressed against his—sent a familiar jolt of electricity through him. It was a feeling he had grown accustomed to, but it never failed to stir something deep inside him.

Kaz’s hands briefly lingered on y/n’s hips as he helped her get situated. The electric hum of the bike beneath them seemed to pulse with a life of its own, mirroring the energy he felt coursing through him whenever she was close. He took a deep breath, savoring the closeness, and then revved the engine, the roar cutting through the cool evening air.

He felt y/n’s grip tighten slightly while they started to move. The city lights blurred past as they sped off, the rhythmic thrum of the engine beneath them providing a steady beat to their shared journey.

***

Kaz was really enjoying living with Y/N. Every time he came back from work and found her in the middle of making dinner in her little see-through pink PJ, her lips already red from wine, he felt the impulse to drop on one knee and propose right away. The sight of her, so effortlessly sensual and domestic at the same time, filled him with a warmth he hadn’t known he was capable of feeling. More often than he cared to admit, they had left the dinner to get cold, too caught up in each other to worry about food. The kitchen would become their playground, filled with the sounds of laughter and passion, the aroma of their neglected meal mingling with their shared breath.

Kaz was sure he would never get tired of it, of the knowledge that she was there, waiting for him. Each evening, her presence was a constant, comforting anchor in his life. 

When he was home before her, he had started to decipher her mood by the music he heard blasting from her car as she pulled into the driveway. 

If it was Lana Del Rey, it was better to chug a lot of water and clear the next few hours of his schedule. Those nights were intense; she would edge them both until one of them started to beg (him), her eyes dark with desire. If it was Taylor Swift, Y/N was about to talk his ears off about whatever thing had happened to her that day, her animated recounting of events both mundane and extraordinary filling the house with life. And if it was something with a hard beat, shit was about to get wild. Water wouldn’t help; it was time to make strong drinks and dramatically free the kitchen table.

He thought that her job would have bothered him more. But instead, it became a point of power and intimacy between them. The times she would run straight to him after work, her eyes wide with need, asking him to make her feel good, were priceless. She would talk about how bad and boring the other men were, how on edge they had left her, and Kaz would get hard just from the power she was giving him. Her desperation when he didn't immediately agree was intoxicating, a heady mix of vulnerability and desire that he reveled in.

Kaz loved that Y/N was as clingy and needy as he discovered himself to be. She was always seeking his contact, whether it was a hand, a kiss, or a brush of their bodies when they passed each other. They couldn’t sit on the couch without being sprawled on each other, limbs tangled in a comforting mess. He felt like he had years of touch to catch up on, and her constant need for physical connection filled a void he always knew was there.

Another thing Kaz noticed was that Y/N was subtly testing the boundaries of their relationship. She was always asking for his help, seeking more attention, and requesting more of his time. It was as if she was waiting for the moment he would snap at her, get mad at her constant demands. He decided to let her test him, allowing her to slowly get comfortable with the fact that he wouldn't leave her or get angry. Kaz would roll his eyes and make her ask more than once pretty often, but he always said yes. He understood that her requests were not about the tasks themselves but about her need for reassurance and stability.

Y/N was scared that things would go badly. Kaz saw her hesitation when telling him that she was too sore or too tired to have sex on certain nights. In those moments, with all the patience in the world, he would get her to relax, cuddling her and reassuring her that he didn’t care. He would have watched ice melt just to share her company. He constantly reminded her that he wanted all of her, that her body and all that came with it was just one aspect of his love for her, not the only thing.

One evening, Kaz was sitting on the couch, and Y/N was nestled between his legs, her back pressed against his chest. His nose was buried in her hair, inhaling her comforting scent, while his hands traced lazy patterns on her stomach beneath her shirt. They were watching the new season of MasterChef, they had finished watching together the previous season exchanging texts when they had just met. Now, they were watching it from their couch, the one they had painstakingly chosen after a marathon day at IKEA, testing and retesting every option.

Y/N had told him about a particularly rough booking she had had that afternoon—two men together. She explained how it had started well, she never lied about having good sex when it happened. But then, as she recounted, things had taken a turn. They had become too intense, pushing her limits to the point where she nearly used her safe word. They had been thrilled about sharing her, constantly trying to outdo each other, and it had left her feeling drained.

Kaz listened attentively, his heart aching at the thought of her discomfort. He ran her a bath, carefully adjusting the water temperature to her liking. They had been working slowly but steadily on getting him used to wet skin, and he managed to hold her hand for a bit under the hot water. As it began to feel too much, Kaz brought her some ice cream, giving her a moment alone to soak in the warmth and let the tension melt away.

While Y/N relaxed in the bath, Kaz busied himself in the kitchen, making popcorn and preparing drinks for their evening of TV.

Y/N's job often brought up complex emotions, and Kaz knew it was essential to navigate them with care. He never judged her for it, understanding that it was a part of her life. Instead, he focused on making her feel loved and valued, ensuring she knew that his affection extended far beyond the physical. Each time she shared a piece of her day, no matter how difficult, he listened without interruption, offering comfort and support in whatever way she needed.

Y/N was no less tender than him when he came back from a particularly violent job or a stressful business day. Kaz usually managed to go somewhere and get cleaned up before coming home, but one time it was really late and he was too tired to make a stop before heading back. As he walked through the door, half-covered in blood, he intended to go straight to the bathroom, but he couldn't resist peeking into their bedroom.

Kaz found Y/N awake, immersed in a book. Her eyes widened at the sight of him, covered in blood, but before she could react, he reassured her, "I'm okay. It's not mine." He disappeared into the bathroom, anxious about how she would handle seeing him in such a state. Would she be repulsed? Frightened? He scrubbed himself clean, the hot water doing little to wash away his lingering fears.

When he climbed into bed, the adrenaline from the violent encounter still pumping through his veins, he was surprised to find Y/N waiting for him with open arms. Without a word, she guided his head to lay on her stomach, her fingers threading gently through his hair. 

"Tell me what happened," she coaxed softly, her voice a soothing balm to his frayed nerves. At first, Kaz hesitated, the events of the night swirling chaotically in his mind. But her gentle persistence and the tender way she held him made it easier to let the words spill out. He recounted the night's events, the violence, the danger, the blood. He spoke of the fear and the anger, the rush of adrenaline that still hadn't fully dissipated.

As he spoke, Y/N's hand never left his hair, her touch grounding him. She listened without interruption, her presence a steady anchor. She murmured words of comfort, assuring him that he was safe now, that she was there for him. Her patience and understanding allowed him to slowly detach from the night's horrors.

When he finally fell silent, the weight of the night lifted slightly from his shoulders. Y/N's gentle care had worked its magic, soothing the turmoil within him. She continued to hold him close, her warmth and steady heartbeat lulling him into a sense of security.

"You're home now," she whispered, her fingers still playing gently with his hair. 

Kaz closed his eyes, the adrenaline ebbing away as sleep began to claim him. In Y/N's arms, he found the peace he desperately needed. Her tenderness and unwavering support were more than he had ever expected or thought he deserved. 

***

Sex was always an intense power struggle, and Kaz was starting to get confident enough to win sometimes. Each encounter was a battle for dominance, a test of wills that left them both breathless and exhilarated.

Kaz's thumbs were pressed deeply into the dimples of her lower back, gripping her hips with a force that would surely leave bruises. His pace was already erratic, driven by a desperate need, but Y/N kept pushing him for more. She would glance over her shoulder, her eyes dark with desire, and beg, "Faster," "Harder," "More." Her pleas were insistent, her hips arching to take him deeper, fueling his frustration and excitement.

Annoyed by her constant demands, Kaz decided to assert his control. He stopped abruptly, leaving her gasping in frustration, and flipped her onto her back. Pinning her wrists above her head with one hand, he used the other to cover her mouth. His eyes gleamed with a dangerous smile as he whispered, "Shut up, love. You're not the one in charge here."

He pressed her into the mattress, starting to move as slowly as he could, savoring her muffled whimpers and the way her eyes widened in desperation. Y/N's hips bucked up, trying to meet his thrusts, but he held her down, maintaining his agonizingly slow pace. "Stay still," he murmured in her ear, his breath hot against her skin. "You get what I give you."

Her eyes were wide with a mixture of frustration and pleasure, tears and spit covering his hand. He knew she was enjoying it as much as he was—it was written all over her face. The suffocated cries and the way she strained against his hold were music to his ears, a symphony of their shared desire.

Each time she moved her hips, he would stop, leaving her on the brink of madness. Her muffled cries grew louder, and he could already hear the neighbors' complaints echoing in his mind. They had been asked more than once to keep it down, but in moments like this, neither of them cared.

As Kaz felt himself getting closer, he abruptly released her mouth and wrists. Y/N immediately pulled him closer, her nails digging into his back, urging him to finish her off. She raised her hips, desperate to take him deeper, her eyes filled with a wild, needy hunger. 

When Kaz finally reached his peak, the intensity of it left them both trembling. He buried his face in her neck, muffling his own cries. The sounds of their pleasure filled the room, and he was certain they were in for another awkward conversation with the neighbors.

In the aftermath, as they lay tangled together, catching their breath, Kaz couldn’t help but feel a surge of satisfaction. The power struggle, the intensity, the way they pushed each other to new heights—it was all part of the intoxicating dance they shared. And in moments like these, he knew he wouldn’t trade it for anything. 

Y/N's body was a warm, comforting weight against his, her skin slick with sweat and her breathing still uneven. Her head rested on his chest, rising and falling with each of his breaths. He could feel her heartbeat gradually slowing, syncing with his own in a calming rhythm.

“That was fucking amazing, love,” she said, her voice breathless and filled with exhaustion and exhilaration. She shifted slightly, looking up at him with a satisfied smile. “I won’t be able to think about anything else for a while.”

Kaz chuckled softly, brushing a strand of hair away from her face and planting a gentle kiss on her temple. “Exactly what I wanted,” he murmured, his lips lingering against her skin. He relished the feeling of her body relaxing into his, the tension of their earlier intensity giving way to a profound sense of contentment.

They lay there in silence for a while, the only sounds the gentle hum of the city outside and their slowing breaths. Kaz traced lazy circles on her back with his fingertips, enjoying the way she shivered at his touch. Despite the physical exhaustion, he felt an undeniable energy coursing through him—a satisfaction not just from the physical release, but from the deep connection they shared.

“Do we really have to go to Jesper’s taco night?”

“Yes.”

“Fuck me,” she sighed passing a hand on her flushed face.

“Again?”

He thought about how their relationship had evolved, from the first tentative touches to the raw, unfiltered passion they now shared. Each moment with her was a discovery, an adventure that left him craving more. The way she challenged him, pushed him to new limits, both in and out of the bedroom, was something he had never experienced before. It was addictive.

***

Kaz yawned, studying the array of weapons laid out before him. The cool metal glinted under the dim lights of the room. 

“Did you take Y/N’s car?” Jesper asked as he joined him, a curious look on his face.

“Yeah, she says it makes a weird noise, so I told her I would take it to a mechanic,” Kaz replied, stifling another yawn. “The car is fine; if she could just drive like Ghezen commands, she’d know. I'll just make some rounds and tell her that someone fixed it.”

Jesper shook his head, eyeing the weapons with the same intensity as Kaz. “So, how was this sunrise-romantic-run?” Jesper commented with a smirk.

Kaz frowned. “How do you know about it?”

“Y/N’s private profile on Instagram,” Jesper said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

Kaz pulled out his phone and saw a notification: ‘cherrylips_crystalskies tagged you in her story.’ Curiosity piqued, he tapped on the alert and was greeted by a snapshot that made him pause. The photo captured him mid-stride, running ahead of Y/N along the harbor. His silhouette was a stark, inky black against the ethereal golden light of the sunrise, which danced across the water in shimmering waves. The serene hues of dawn contrasted sharply with his dark attire, emphasizing his presence. 

Every detail in the photo stood out. His black hoodie and track pants melded into the early morning shadows, but two elements gleamed brightly—the gray headphones wrapped around his head and the metallic sheen of his knee brace, reflecting the soft morning light. The scene was both peaceful and intense.

In the background, the harbor lay quiet, bathed in the gentle light of the breaking day. The calm water mirrored the sky's hues, creating a dreamy, almost surreal landscape that framed Kaz's determined form. 

The caption was “is bro faking his injury to park wherever he wants? Stay tuned” and made him chuckle. Kaz couldn't help but smile at the image, feeling a rush of warmth and affection for the woman who had captured it.

On her public profile, Y/N only posted subtle hints that she was with someone, but on her private one, she took more creative freedom. Kaz had to admit, it was a nice picture.

Suppressing another yawn, Kaz explained, “I didn’t sleep last night, had to finish some things. Later, I’m going to see Y/N’s grandma to ask her what she thinks of me marrying her niece. Y/N was out all night partying, and since I was awake when she came back, she dragged me to go running with her.”

Jesper raised a brow. 

“I know, ‘running off the hangover’ is for crazy people," Kaz added with a shake of his head. He remembered Y/N’s infectious energy, her laughter as she pulled him out the door in the cold morning air despite his protests.

“Looks like you’ve got a full day today,” commented Jesper, picking up a gun to evaluate it.

Kaz nodded, handing him a silencer. “Yeah, it’s going to be an interesting one.”

***

Kaz felt a bit less confident under Alice’s gaze. “You look pale, boy. I’ll make some tea,” she said, bustling in the kitchen.

“Without Marijuana, please,” he added, recalling how the last time he drunk tea in that house went.

“Boring,” commented Alice.

Kaz remained on the yellow couch, unsure of what to do. The cozy, lived-in feel of the room contrasted sharply with the formality of the conversation he was about to have. He fidgeted slightly, adjusting his jacket and looking around at the pictures of young Y/N that adorned the walls.

“So you want to marry my niece,” Alice started from the kitchen.

“Yes,” he confirmed, his voice steady.

Alice returned with two cups, handing one to him. He accepted it gratefully, feeling the warmth seep into his hands.

“Why?” she asked, her tone genuinely curious.

“Uhm, because we love each other,” he said, avoiding her gaze and focusing on the steam rising from his cup.

“So you ask to marry you everyone you love?” Alice raised a brow, taking a sip of her tea.

“No,” he frowned, glancing up at her.

“Then why?”

“I want to spend my life with her,” he said more confidently, meeting her eyes.

“Hm, you can do that without being married,” Alice observed, her eyes twinkling with amusement.

Kaz hadn’t expected this much questioning. He shifted uncomfortably, trying to gather his thoughts.

“What does kitty think about that? She didn’t even want a relationship,” Alice pointed out.

Kaz thought about all the times they had joked about it, each instance vivid in his mind. He remembered the nights when they lay tangled together, the room filled with the soft glow of lamplight. He would lean in close, his lips brushing against her ear as he whispered, "You know, you’d make a perfect wife." Her laughter would bubble up, light and musical, filling the space around them. “Sure, Kaz.”

Kaz also recalled the mornings when he would prepare breakfast, catching her off guard by referring to her as "Mrs. Brekker." She would then wiggle her left hand in front of his face, fingers splayed and free of any rings. "You’re getting ahead of yourself, baby," she’d say.

He remembered when they went to one of his work dinners, a formal affair where everyone seemed to have their plus ones neatly labeled. Someone had asked if she was his wife, and without missing a beat, Kaz had confidently responded, “Yes.” Y/N had turned to look at him with a brow raised, surprise and amusement dancing in her eyes. “No, I’m not,” she laughed, correcting him but not without a playful nudge.

“Exactly, she didn’t want a relationship and now she’s happy in one. We can make this work,” he said, a note of determination in his voice.

Alice hummed, studying him intently. “Are you sure she’s happy?”

“Yes,” Kaz said without hesitation. “She was just scared that things would take a bad turn. She still is, but I’m doing everything I can to let her know I won’t leave her.”

“What if you find someone else? I’m sure you were this confident even with your ex-girlfriend,” Alice remarked, her eyes sharp.

Kaz was taken aback again, but making delicate conversation was part of his job. “You can’t compare my relationship with Inej to the one with Y/N. We fit together in a way I didn’t think was possible.”

“What about her job?”

“I’ll wait for her to be ready to leave it before marrying her,” Kaz said, his resolve unwavering. He knew Y/N's work was a significant part of her life, and he respected her autonomy. He understood that pressuring her to leave it prematurely would only create resentment and conflict.

Alice nodded at his words, clearly processing them. “And then what?”

“She’ll do whatever she wants, of course,” Kaz responded without hesitation. He envisioned a future where Y/N could explore her passions freely, whether that meant pursuing a new career, continuing her education, or any other endeavor that brought her joy.

“What about children? Kitty wants to have them.”

Kaz paused, the weight of the question settling over him. He had never been one to fantasize about fatherhood, but the thought of creating a family with Y/N was becoming less foreign, even comforting. “I’m… getting used to the idea,” he admitted, surprising even himself with the honesty of his response. 

Alice smiled softly, setting her cup down. “You know, Kaz, you’re saying all the right things. But you’re both young. You already rushed into moving in together.”

Kaz met her gaze, understanding the concern behind her words. “I’m not saying we’re getting married tomorrow,” he clarified. “I just want her to know that I’m not playing. I think she needs all the reassurance she can get.” He thought about the nights Y/N sought his comfort, the times she asked for his help or attention, testing his patience and commitment. He wanted her to feel secure in their relationship, to know he was in it for the long haul.

Alice studied him for a moment, her expression softening. “It’s good that you recognize that. She’s been through a lot, and she needs someone who’s going to be there for her, consistently.”

“I know,” Kaz said quietly. He thought of the moments when Y/N hesitated to share her vulnerabilities, fearing rejection or anger. He had made it a point to reassure her, to show her through actions and words that he wasn’t going anywhere. 

Alice leaned back in her chair, a thoughtful look on her face. “It’s clear you care deeply for her. Just make sure you’re both ready for each step you take. Marriage, children—they’re big commitments.”

Kaz nodded, appreciating Alice's candidness. “I will. I’m not rushing anything. I just want her to feel safe.”

Alice smiled again, a hint of approval in her eyes. “Then we’re good, you have my blessing. Maybe asking her father would be more appropriate, but I raised the little brat. I’m glad you came to me.”

Kaz froze, his eyes widening. Her father?

Alice sensed his confusion. “She told you they’re dead, right?”

Kaz nodded, his mind racing, not understanding why Y/N had lied to him about her parents.

“Well, it’s almost like they are,” Alice said with a sigh. “I never forgave my daughter for how she treated her.”

“What happened?” Kaz asked, his frown deepening as he tried to piece everything together.

Alice sighed, her expression heavy with old pain. “Her parents had a complicated relationship. They decided to have her anyway, but within two years, they were so tired of each other that they just left. Moved to opposite points of the world and started new families.”

Kaz was stunned. This revelation added so much more context to Y/N's reluctance towards being in a serious relationship. It explained why she didn’t want to be bound to someone, why she thought she would be unable to handle it.

“They never saw each other again,” Alice continued, her voice tinged with bitterness. “Not even once did they come to see their daughter.”

Kaz could hardly believe it. The thought of Y/N growing up feeling unwanted and discarded by her own parents made his heart ache. He realized now why she always tested the boundaries of their relationship, why she sought so much reassurance. She had been conditioned to expect abandonment and hurt, and he was determined to prove her wrong.

Alice watched him, her gaze softening as she saw the realization and resolve in his eyes. “She’s been through a lot, Kaz. More than she lets on. She needs someone who won’t just say they love her but will show it every day.”

Kaz nodded, a steely determination setting in. “I will. I’ll show her every day that I’m not going anywhere.”

Alice smiled, a hint of approval in her eyes. “Good. She deserves that.”

Kaz took a deep breath, feeling the weight of the responsibility but also a renewed sense of purpose. Y/N had patiently pulled him out of his personal hell, and she still was. Now, it was his turn to help her. He owed her that and more.

He thought back to the countless times she had been there for him, even when he didn't realize he needed someone. Her unwavering support, her patience, and her understanding had been his anchor. Every touch, every comforting word had chipped away at the walls he had built around himself.

Y/N had given him something he thought he'd never have: a chance at a normal life, a chance to heal. She had stayed by his side through his darkest moments, and now, it was his turn to be her rock. He was determined to show her that she didn't have to face her fears alone.

Kaz looked up at Alice, who was watching him with a knowing smile. “I’ll take care of her,” he promised. 

Alice nodded, her expression softening. “I believe you.”

[legoflowrs]

HII i was wondering if you could do some hcs like you did for Kyle and Kenny but with Craig?? No pressure ofc! 💗

HEADCANNONS

cw: drug use, drinking, smoking, slight nsfw

AGED UP TO 18 PEOPLE

a/n: hiya! so in the head cannons craig is with tweek but obviously in the relationship ones he’s with reader xx

i’m also in my craig era rn! hope u like this anon <3

Craig Tucker

- I’m a firm believer in Peruvian Craig!

- He was adopted by Laura and Thomas but Tricia is their biological child.

- Struggled a lot with identity issues when growing up because he didn’t know much about his birth family.

- Laura being the angel she is worked extra hard to make sure Craig was in touch with his birth culture. Took him to a lot of events and tried to cook the food to the best of her ability.

- Out of all the families in South Park I think the Tucker family is the healthiest.

- Craig decided to not put a label on his sexuality. He just wants to go with the flow and see where life takes him.

- That being said it took a long time for him to accept he was attracted to guys. He had a lot of internalised homophobia because of the culture in South Park.

- He was petrified when he realised he had feelings for Tweek.

- I think his family were his rock during this time.

- Still flips everyone off. He thinks it’s peak humour (dumbass).

- Plays football 100%

- Dies when he sees that Tweek is cheering for him on the sidelines.

- Has a touch of the tism (lol).

- I think he really struggles to verbalise his emotions so he sticks to physical touch and acts of service.

- I think he’d probably also plays violin he finds it super calming.

- Listens to R&B.

- Goes to the gym a lot it relieves his stress.

- Goes for runs when he can’t go to the gym.

- Gets a job at Tweek bros and all the grandmas love him.

- Tea drinker!! His favourite is chamomile and honey.

- Tries to do some boxing with Tweek. Gets beat up by Tweek.

- Plays Roblox religiously.

- Likes cooking but hates baking.

- Wears slippers in the house like a little meemaw.

- I think he’d sell vapes on the dl lmao.

- HATES school dances but his friends force him to go anyway.

- Might not act like it but would die for his friends, he has a super soft spot for Clyde. They have been bestfriends for years.

- I head cannon he would become a firefighter lol (i have a fic idea in my head like firefighter!craig and paramedic!reader lol).

- Is still super obsessed with astronomy.

- But absolutely hates astrology he thinks it’s so dumb.

- Will go to the planetarium very often.

- Still wears his hat all the time. But in high school learnt to style his hair so started wearing it less often.

- Smokes weed with Kenny.

- Takes his alcohol well but gets super clingy when he’s drunk.

- He would say he hates parties but somehow is always at them.

- He HATES reading.

- Prob had to be tutored by Kyle during high school.

- Kenny pierced his nose.

- Has a good relationship with Tricia even though they bicker a lot. He takes her for ice cream.

- Loves kids but they find him intimidating lol.

- Is really good at calming babies down (meow).

- Royal blue is his favourite colour.

- Got into the bad habit of smoking cigarettes after having a fight with Tweek.

- Would have sleepovers with Tweek often. They make breakfast together 🥹

- He starts doing media in high school and buys a video camera. Makes little montages of his family and friends. Probably makes them for his friends birthdays as well. (this head cannon is inspired by the fic “ladies and gentlemen we are now floating in space” on ao3, go read it bc it changed my life).

- Plays chess.

- Listens to classical music.

- Likes hiking and discovering new trails.

- Guilty pleasure is Dolly Parton!!!!

- Avid milk drinker makes fun of others for drinking alternative milks.

- Grows flowers and gives them to Tweek. It takes ages cause he always forgets and they end up dying.

- Only drinks room temperature water.

- He has so many tattoos that Tweek designed (my head cannon is that Tweek is really good at art).

- Fucker is tall. 6’2!!!

- Is pretty defined from all the physical activity he does.

- When he’s older he rides a motorcycle.

- Exclusively wears converse. All his friends draw and write on them.

Craig in a relationship

- Okay let’s get down to business hehehe.

- Once again my major head cannon is firefighter!craig and paramedic!reader.

- He is super affectionate with you because that’s how he verbalises his love for you.

- Will do little things for you like tie your shoes or refill your water bottle without you asking.

- Absolutely froths when you wear his letterman jacket.

- He loves linking pinkies with you.

- He has a polaroid of y’all in his phone case.

- You guys have sleepovers often!

- You, him and Tweek go on day trips together.

- He’s not the best at consoling you when you’re upset but he really tries

- Y’all play Roblox together.

- He sends you gym gain updates (meow).

- Loves when your head is on his chest, he strokes your hair.

- Y’all always share headphones whenever you go anywhere.

- You are his passenger princess!!!

- He’s pretty experienced with sex. Loves making you feel good!

- Will hold your hand during sex he finds it super intimate.

- Is super insecure that you’ll leave him for someone who’s better at dealing with their emotions.

- I think he might have a tendency to blow up during arguments. He kinda shoves his feelings down so it all comes out during arguments.

- Goes for a run after y’all fight.

- Also head cannon that he will be super protective over you if you’re pregnant 🥹

- Would love to have a mini version of you guys running around.

- Likes to stargaze with you in the back of his truck.

- Y’all go camping together and roast s’mores on the fire.

- You beg him to go midnight swimming. He caves cause he can’t say no to you.

- Bends down to give you kisses.

- Loves holding your waist or hips.

- Holds your face in both his hands and gives you tender kisses on your nose.

- Will literally body slam you on the mattress cause he thinks it’s hilarious.

- You guys and Tweek have movie nights super often.

- When he falls in love he’s in deep.

- Will propose to you under the stars.

- Makes a video of all your friends saying happy birthday and a heartfelt message from him. Makes you cry for hours.

- Will pick you up when he hugs you.

- You braid Tricia’s hair and go get your nails done together.

- His parents adore you. Laura is a second mum to you.

- All in all Craig is super in love with you 10/10 boyfriend.

[moldycantaloupe]

I think im objectively right to say that a few of the ghouls have oral fixations and those who have it cope with it differently (whether it good or bad coping).

Dew and Swiss both smoke and vape. they all smoke weed, even if only sometimes, so I'm not counting that into the mix.

Dew has a tendency to bite at his fingers and claws so he does his best to find other things to occupy them with. fidget toys, playing his guitar, cooking (I am a firm believer that Dew is Okay in the kitchen!).

Swiss chews on anything he can, even if he shouldn't. the hems of his shirts, blankets, pens. he got in trouble once for chewing up Aethers favorite wooden spoon (he gifted him a new one from their time in South America).

Mountain chews at his lips and cheek, especially when deep in thought or in a project. the inside of his mouth is noticeably scarred from the amount of times he's done it. he also, like Dew, chews at his fingers.

Sunshine likes to explore textures, even if it's non-edible textures. she's found her favorite to be water bottles and silicone. she steals Phantom's sensory necklaces from time to time (see at end). she'll chew(nibble) on the necklace with her front teeth because it makes her feel like a rabbit eating.

I don't think Rain has much of a fixation but he WILL bite anything. "I just wanna see how resistant it is!" he will say, after biting Cirrus' arm. thankfully he gets a Look right before lunging into a bite so they can stop him in time. They've also learned that he will bite less if he's got a hard candy in his mouth, so they will always stock up on those.

and finally, Phantom is like Swiss in where he'll chew on anything, but this time he will CHEW. on ANYTHING. couches, bedposts, metal forks. there's a noticeable chew mark on the coffee table from when he was first summoned and they didn't know better. but they found a solution quickly; sensory chew necklaces. they have a couple lying around in each room and one is always on him, so the ruining of furniture has dropped drastically.

because of these fools they also have an abundance of dog chew toys and animal bones for them to chew at. it's not uncommon specifically to hear a muffled squeak squeak from the greenhouse. Swiss and Phantom fuck up the bones. Dew and Rain like to just hold both toys and bones in their mouth. Sunshine WILL try and tear the toys apart.

[iloveboysinred]

That geto smut was *chefs kiss* i love stoner geto sm. Do you have any more thoughts/hcs about him? :) i understand your requests are closed so its okay if you ignore this 💜

Um hello? I would love to expand on stoner geto ok! Its okay to ask me questions/submissions. Requesting full blown fics when my requests are closed is when i have to draw the line though + I’m up at 3:40 a.m looking for something to focus my mind on other than the two smuts i’m writing rn 😌 so this is perfect, thank you sweet pookie anon.

• So to start off, Suguru strikes me as the quiet type when he’s high. He’ll yap with you if you talk to him but he’s mostly just silently touching the clouds while everything else is buzzing in the background.

• I feel like he doesnt stick to one medium to smoke. I feel like he has a couple of bowls, bongs, and maybe even a vaporizer. I feel like he tried using it once and didn’t really like it— preferring the usual spark and pull that these other options provide. He likes to take things slow when he’s smoking, letting each pull soak in before he takes another.

• Now maybe its cause i’m from NY and love grabba, but i genuinely feel like Suguru occasionally sprinkles in some grabba with his weed or uses the leaf itself as a wrap. He can definitely do without most of the time but if he has it on hand and just so happened to get some cheap bud he’ll definitely sprinkle some in there for the taste and to stretch the product a little more.

• He doesn’t like carts. Hates how they taste, how they pull—how they make him cough up a lung. Just no. He probably hasn’t touched a cart since he was a senior in highschool.

• I feel like he gets in the shower high as fuck and just lets the water run over him with his eyes closed. His mind is just buzzing with dull senses and the water just feel so nice when he’s high. Probably has some vibey music playing in the background.

•if you’re around he definitely gets touchy. He proclaims that sex feels so much more intense when he’s smoked out.

• matches with you and Gojo often. Shoko doesn’t strike me as much of a WEED smoker, but she always takes a couple pulls whenever you guys get together on fridays.

• he likes having his hair down when he’s high. The tension in his scalp from having his hair up makes his head feel achy and heavy. He just wants to lay back in some soft pillows or, even better— your nice warm thighs and just close his glossy eyes.

•gets the munchies BAD. Like if you leave this man alone he’ll make multiple trips to the fridge, mindlessly tearing up whatever’s edible.

• doesn’t vape, only the natural stuff for him.

• He goes on frequent tolerance breaks to keep his tolerance low

• rolls up when he comes home, rolls up if he’s out with you and your friends, and he rolls up before he goes to sleep

• he doesnt really like cones. He’ll use them, but he hates how they sometimes start canoeing.

• has a variety pack of rolling papers in his room

• tried edibles once, he hates the flavor but the high literally changed his life. He’s never been that fried in his life, probably would try them again but sparingly (he ate the whole bag of 5000mg gummies thinking they weren’t working)

• i don’t really see him enjoy the feel of being cross faded.

• likes watching movies when he’s high even though he starts to slump into the bed

• definitely a firm believer in smaller blunts. If the product is good, theres no need to roll gorilla fingers. He thinks its a waste of weed

Thats all i got 😚

[dilly-oh]

Rent-a-Boyfriend

I need to get drunk, FAST, Kakashi thinks, taking a seat at the bar and signalling to the bartender. He wants to forget this evening ever happened as quickly as possible. He is never going on another blind date arranged by his so-called friends again - the guy they’d set him up with was some creepy artist with a ponytail who straight up asked to sculpt his dick, and when he politely declined, told him it was okay, size didn’t matter to him. Naturally, Kakashi’d dipped the moment the guy was distracted flirting with some other dude and scurried off to a nearby bar to drown his woes and seriously consider ghosting his friends forever.

Speak of the devil, his phone starts buzzing in his pocket, but he ignores it in favor of taking a swig of beer instead. He is NOT talking to them right now. Just because they all found love doesn’t mean he needs to as well, especially not with their ‘help’. They make it seem so easy, like he isn’t even trying. Yeah, right. It isn’t as if the perfect man is going to just fall into his-

“Oh my God, help me,” a man hisses, barging over and plopping right into his lap. Kakashi gets a faceful of long brown hair (which is quite delightful considering it’s wonderfully soft and smells like flowers) and has to repress a giggle as it tickles his nose before remembering he’s supposed to be in a bad mood. Nice hair or not, Kakashi is about to shove the stranger off when he twists around to look up at Kakashi with the most gorgeous brown eyes he’s ever seen, wide and pleading for mercy. A worried frown wrinkles his forehead, crinkling the faded scar over the bridge of his nose, and he bites his lips anxiously. Suddenly Kakashi will do anything for this man, including murder. “My asshole ex is here.” Okay, he was kidding about the whole murder thing, but he’s not above a firm talking-to. Maybe even a long-winded discussion about boundaries if need be. “Please, please pretend to be my boyfriend so he’ll fuck off and leave me alone.”

Kakashi blinks. 

Pretend? Hell, he would love to actually BE this cutie’s boyfriend, where’s the application, sign him the fuck up. Kakashi almost says this aloud, but the desperate, almost wild look in the man’s eyes quiets his instinctual smartass remark and forces him to actually take things seriously for once. He nods imperceptibly and wraps his arms around the man’s waist, pulling him closer just as a douchey-looking guy with silver hair struts up, glaring at him poisonously.

“Who the fuck is this?” he spits out.

“Piss off, Mizuki,” the man in his lap snaps back. “He’s my boyfriend, obviously. Why don’t you go vape in the alleyway or something?”

“Bullshit. I don’t believe you.” Mizuki’s eyes narrow dangerously as he studies Kakashi. “...Prove it. Prove that you’re actually dating him.” The man stiffens in Kakashi’s lap.

“Don’t be ridiculous! He doesn’t have to prove anything-”

“Leave him alone, he gets enough stress from teaching brats every day,” Kakashi cuts in. The man jerks around in his lap, gaping in surprise for a moment before carefully schooling his face. “He was up late correcting papers again last night. I felt bad, so I brought him his favorite Ichiraku ramen for lunch and walked the dog for him. I even offered to play CoD with his little brother.” He leans forward, pulling the man closer to his chest protectively. “Now...why don’t you get lost?” 

“...Fuck you.” Mizuki’s glare darkens even further. 

“Fuck you, too.” Kakashi sends him off with a cheery wave that turns into a middle-finger once the guy’s back is turned. 

“How the hell did you know all that stuff about me?” the man in his lap asks once Mizuki slithers away to lurk in the shadows. He looks up at Kakashi uneasily, almost frightened. “Have you been...stalking me or something?”

“Never met you before in my life,” Kakashi replies, then goes on to explain. “According to my friends, not only am I a smug know-it-all and complete smart-ass, I’m also incredibly observant.” He takes a deep breath and begins. “You have red ink marks on your fingertips, presumably from a cheap red pen. The only reason for you to be using one of those is if you’re a teacher, grading papers, and judging from the bags under your eyes, I can easily guess you’ve spent more than a few nights up late grading. You have a rather fresh stain on your shirt, ramen, judging from the smell, with a unique aromatic spice added to the broth that’s only used at Ichiraku - I recognize it, having eaten there a few times. I know you have a dog because there’s fur on your pants, but it’s too high up for it to be from a cat, so therefore it must be from a medium-sized dog, perhaps a Shiba-Inu going by the length of hair and reddish tint. And as for your brother, the cell-phone in your pocket has a case that is a rather unfortunate shade of neon orange. Given your fashionable outfit and kempt appearance, you’d never have picked it yourself, therefore it had to have been a gift, and a sentimental one at that. A parent would never have purchased something so ridiculous for you, and you wouldn’t actually use it if it was a gag gift from a friend, so it could only have come from a younger sibling, obviously a brother, who I assume is teenaged based off the practicality of buying you a case for your cell-phone instead of something silly or useless like a keychain.” He finishes in a rush and takes a breath. 

“...Oh,” the man breathes out softly, his eyes wide with awe. Then he frowns. “Wait. How did you know about the Call of Duty thing?”

“He’s a teenager,” Kakashi snorts. “Of course he’s into fucking CoD.”

“Ugh, true,” the man laughs, relaxing in Kakashi’s arms, which he, admittedly, doesn’t want to remove. “God, is there anything you don’t know?”

“Your name and number,” Kakashi blurts out, then immediately wants to slap himself. What is he, an idiot? Hitting on this man right after he’s been accosted by his ex? That’s just...it was just-

“Damn, that was smooth.” The man leans back in his lap, looking him up and down, considering. “...I’d say you earned the name, at least. I’m Iruka.”

“Kakashi. Nice to meet you.”

“Likewise.” Iruka cocks his head and hums. “You know, it was kinda hot when you went all Sherlock like that.”

“My friends wouldn’t agree,” Kakashi scoffs, deciding his arms feel quite good where they are, as does Iruka. “Especially after I ruined Asuma and Kurenai’s surprise pregnancy announcement-”

“You didn’t.” 

“I thought it was obvious! Her feet were swollen!” 

Iruka laughs so hard he almost falls out of Kakashi’s lap.

Almost.

“Anyway,” Iruka says once he can breathe properly again, “thanks for pretending to be my boyfriend, I really appreciate it.”

“My pleasure,” Kakashi replies with cheer. “I was more than happy to offer my services.” 

“Then you wouldn’t mind keeping up the act until my ex leaves, or I do?” Iruka asks, nodding at the shadows where Mizuki is slumped over a beer, glaring at them. “What are your going rates?”

“I’ll give you a discount,” Kakashi tells him. “My only payment is you stay in my lap the entire time.”

“Deal.” Iruka grins wickedly up at him, throwing an arm over his shoulder and getting comfortable. “Although, as my pretend boyfriend, you should totally buy me a drink.” Kakashi grins back.

“Sure thing, babe.” 

Maybe he won’t have to pretend for long.  

(Written for @kakairu-fest KakaIru Month 2021, Day Twenty-Four Prompt: Fake Dating)

[ghuleh-ice-tunafish83]

Trailer park boys headcannons for literally nobody but me who probably cares (some of these are based of watching episodes etc)

Julian:

-Knows how to cook but does not care enough to cook unless needed to

- a very talented bowler bubbles and Ricky are jealous as fucking hell.

-He's got a good arm for sports but doesn't care for it

- picky eater hates sea food

-prone to vomiting and getting sick easily

-hes very scared of dying / dying alone / being alone

-VERY superstitous believes in magic and ghosts.

-despite what he says he can dance and is very talented at it but prefers not to show it to even his girlfriends.

- claims he only reads books for "learning "

-secrectly reads romance books of all kinds on his free time he is SUCH a sap for the romantic books

-also loves romantic movies but is a bit more specific. Would never ever admit to these however..

-he prefers cute dogs over cats and very much knows bubbles would kill him for saying it

-very insecure about his tooth Gap and everything about himself. Doesn't like showing of skin of any kind or being complimented

-out of all 3 he gets embarrassed the easiest they love to tease him when he gets mad and red

-he secretly likes Harry Potter but wouldn't caught dead saying it

-had his dirty dancing movie signed by swayze when he was still alive

-keeps it close to his heart..

-him and Ricky LOVE horror movies especially slashers

-julian always claims he wants to be there for bubbles if he's scared but hes uh.. very much scared To..

-Ricky LOVES the gore and he isn't afraid to scream and holler when a pop up happens!!

-julian fucking hates it.. his screaming is what fucking startles him half the damn time

Ricky:

-outside of chicken fingers and burgers ricky really really likes pizza.

-a big fan of video games of all kind!!

-he really likes mortal kombat and old fighting games or wrestling games!! and forces julian to play with him bubbles will teach him to play better as well

-he learns very quickly surprisingly

-is a genuinely good hunter at hunting animals but does so for food!

- gets really REALLY mad at people who hunt for sport/clothing!!!

-also believes in ghosts like julian but is also a big fan of jersey devil; and skinw*lkers he really loves cryptids! Even if it's hard to understand

-LOVES cartoons!! Especially adult swim but is also big fan of kids shows of all kinds his patience is very firm!

-hell watch anything and everything he loves TV and loves watching it with his family

- especially musicals but shhhhh

-had a vaping phase

- doesn't like to talk about it..

-huge fan of family guy and south park man!! He'll talk his head of about it

Bubbles:

-Love LOVES wrestling he never misses an episode of wwe/nxt

-is big fan of blogging and social media he always uses anonymous user when he lurks

- secretly looked up cat girls out of curiosity and *cough cough* yeah

-hes more of a fan of games like minecraft and pokemon and animal crossing

-also found out anime exists through the internet

-hes enjoying some of them alot! But won't exactly tell julian or Ricky they just wouldn't understand.. (or would they ?)

-he showed Ricky total drama and they both got sucked in quick

- Julian was forced in soon after and claims its okay for a kids show

-he enjoys it alot and secretly is wondering who will be voted off next

-BIG fan of star trek loves it. Star wars too doesn't understand why people fight over the two??? There both so cool!!!

-has read every single warrior cats books and DEFINITELY blogs about it on internet!

-he has tried to talk Ricky and julian into online gaming with him

-ricky is in the spirit for him but.. bless him he doesn't understand computers very well. He's trying

-julian refuses he only uses his computer for "work" (hmmm)

-has gotten them to play jack and box however

-it took him fucking FOREVER to teach Ricky how to get it on his phone.

-it always either ends very very badly or very good

-does not believe in ghosts supernatural or ANYTHING And does not scared at all from horror movies. He always critiques them on how bad it was

-though he doesn't like to admit he gets a little scared sometimes..

Anyway ty for listening to my headcannons!?? (Will add more if I think of any)

[whiskeyrated]

Now introducing... LEX CRAWFORD

Page / About / Timeline / Inspo 

Full Name:  Alexander Keene Crawford

Nickname(s): Lex

Birthday: June 13th, 1975 (45) 

Hometown: Scarsdale, New York

Education: Harvard Law School

Occupation: Lawyer, Sr. Partner

Faceclaim: Ben Affleck 

Content Warning(s):

Emotional Manipulation, Divorce, Cheating, Affair(s), Drug Use, Alcoholism 

Last Update: November 22nd, 2020

FAMILY & CHILDHOOD

Born at Lenox Hill Hospital to Madden Keene Crawford and Vivienne Renée Crawford (née Townsend), Lex Crawford is the second eldest of the Crawford family. Crawford has three additional siblings. One older brother (Christopher Keene Crawford, legal advisor), and two younger sisters (Annalise Brigitte Crawford & Lillian Louise Crawford-Kingston, both socialites) 

Madden Crawford was absent and distant as a father, mostly appearing to criticize his sons. Had a tendency to favor Christopher for his efforts even though he was less successful than his younger brother in academia. Christopher’s personality was well received as he was not nearly as cold nor as aggressive as Lex. 

Vivienne Crawford, quite frankly, did not want anything to do with the children. For all of their childhoods they were propped up as pawns in her bid to outshine those in her social circle. The children were primarily raised by a variety of nannies, one of which would have a longstanding affair with Madden Crawford. 

Madden and Vivienne were very clear on their lack of devotion to one another. The two photographed well and their interests aligned well enough to put up with being married to one another. Most of the married adults were also having affairs which were, sometimes, 

Overall, the family is mainly composed of politicians, lawyers, advisors, and judges. A majority of them still have investments located elsewhere. 

With a family like that it can be difficult to keep up or stand out. This has proven to breed a highly competitive nature amongst siblings and cousins in order to prove their value and worth within the family. While the patriarchs may be the ones judging sons for their selections of education and professions, it is the matriarchs that rule the roost with an iron fist. 

Lex would attend The Dalton School in New York and then go on to attend Harvard. His choice and acceptance to Harvard was deeply criticized by family members and his father who claimed he was not good enough to attend Yale instead. 

Lex has three children with ex-wife Liana Drayton-Crawford. Theodore Crawford (1999), Ava Crawford (2002), and Benjamin Crawford (2015)

MARRIAGE & SUBSEQUENT DIVORCE 

While attending Harvard Law, Lex met an undergrad (Liana Drayton) from the nearby Northeastern University and the two began dating within roughly 6 months of meeting

Right before each of their graduations, she found out that she was pregnant 

The two both graduated and had a rushed wedding later that summer. They would go on to have a total of three children. 

Lex and Liana remained married for over 15 years before splitting in 2018 as a result of irreconcilable differences. Liana was the one who filed for divorce after issues that arose in 2015 after the birth of their youngest son. 

For a majority of the marriage the two got along and enjoyed their time spent together. Lex was not necessarily an outstanding father by any means, but in comparison to what he had been raised with he did well for himself. Most of his life ended up being consumed by work which would not leave him with adequate time to see his children. 

The Crawford family ensured that Lex was aware of their great disappointment in him for marrying Drayton who was not of their same social standing. They had attempted to convince him to get Liana to get rid of the baby or pay her off early on after finding out the news.Slowly over time he ended up being convinced that it was an issue which led to other issues within their marriage. 

Around their 10th year of marriage he had some sort of meltdown after waking up one day and believing himself to be old and to have sacrificed his freedom of his 20′s on having a family that he never saw. This issue lasted roughly a year which would eventually include increased alcohol usage and drug use. These issues were found out (quickly) by his wife at the time and they worked together on these problems to keep ahold of their marriage for another 5 years before issues arose again. 

Lex began to resent Liana for being one of the few people who had seen him at weaker and emotional points in his life. His family was keen on the concept that emotions made a person weak - while this issue had always been with him since childhood he had enjoyed being himself around his wife. Of course, with his slowly and ever increasing responsibility at the firm he became more distant and difficult to deal with. 

Around their 16th year of marriage Lex was actively caught sleeping with one the law associates at work who was 10 years his junior 

After this, as a guilt gift, Lex purchased his wife a Range Rover Sport Supercharged and had it delivered to the house with a large red bow. She was not impressed. 

This led to immense bouts of fighting that made living together difficult. Eventually, Lex moved out of their family home and lived in an apartment by himself as the divorce was handled.

In a power grab, Lex ended up with full custody of the children and accused his then-wife of keeping his children from him (as he was sure the children would not want to stay with him even in split custody) 

They fought about this custody in court for quite some time before the money ran out on his ex-wife’s side and she could no longer fight with him for it 

At their departure, they had certain items split between the two as per the prenup. 

OCCUPATION

Lex is a senior partner at a lucrative law firm that spends a great deal of time working on high profile cases

His competitive nature has helped him move up in the ranks at the firm and as a result he is often rewarded with some of the better cases that come in

Lex has a secretary and overall the firm usually has a few interns that come in throughout the year. At any given time there is usually at least one if not two interns at the firm 

His ambitious with the firm ended up being the reason that he and his ex-wife drifted apart so significantly. It was also a part of why they got divorced. 

PERSONALITY 

Lex can have a tendency to behave rather erratically when he becomes upset. This has caused a great deal of issues with him and his personal relationships. He has also been described as aggressive and demanding to those generally outside of his social circle. Though even people within his circle have had no qualms with these adjectives. 

However, he has great ambitious and is confident in what he wants and his abilities to get these things. He is also extremely well organized for the most part and uses his skills to his advantage often.

If he had not been so stubborn and set in the idea (that had been burned into him since childhood) that feelings = weakness, he could have probably fixed his marriage. Instead, he has a tendency to be resistant to these concepts which makes him cold. 

Additionally, therapy could probably be of use to Lex to deal with his deeply rooted issues that really were planted by his family long ago. 

OTHER

Avid smoker. Has attempted to quit multiple times and has been unsuccessful each time. He has managed to cut-back in some ways. Though it is often replaced with vaping instead.

The only pets that were ever had in the house were Great Danes. Before their divorce, Lex and Liana had two Great Danes. One was a fawn female named Bijou and the other a brindle male named Bruno. Somewhat near the end of their marriage they had adopted two more Great Danes. A black male named Salem (who now lives with his ex-wife) and blue female named Summer who remains in New York with Lex and the children (primarily cared for by Theo Crawford) 

Though a lot of his traits can be perceived as negatives, they have always worked to his advantage in the workplace and for clients. 

Although he does not express this, one of his greatest regrets in life is what happened with his marriage. 

Lex is a case of Nature vs. Nurture where both do not lend themselves to a bright future. His family was cold, manipulative, and back-stabbing. His parents did not love one another and bad behavior was often encouraged between his father, uncle, cousins, and older brother. The criticism of his actions were often bothersome and did well at laying the groundwork for his meltdown over his marriage. Though it was still possible for him to avoid most of what went wrong, his family holds unchecked power over the younger members of the family even if the younger members are in their 40′s. 

[prorevenge]

Abusive EX-Stepfather: Pro-Revenge That Was 20 Years Tn The Making.

TRIGGER WARNING: This story is based around physical abuse, if this bothers you, please keep that in mind. Thank you, and I'm sorry that is based around that, but these things happen a lot.

TLDR: At the end

Back Story:

My mother married my horrid step-father (we will call him DB = douche bag) when I was 3 years old. He never accepted me in the home, because I wasn't his child. He would literally call me red-headed step-child. (I had red hair at the time) Just so he could use the "joke" of "Beat you like a red-headed step-child". He would beat me, verbally abuse me, and drop me off at his "friend's" house so I could be abused and he got money for it.

He is an absolutely awful, evil man.

I left home at 12 to go live with my biological father to get away from him (he has recently broken my nose), and so DB started abusing my younger brother and sister. I didn't know this until a few years later (he had never abused them before I left, just me).

BTW: I am 4'9" 26 year old woman...I'm fairly small (this will come into play later on).

Here Begins The Pro-revenge:

So after leaving my mother (about 4 years ago) DB got remarried right away to a gorgeous woman (with money) who was a cancer survivor with two teenaged girls. I saw the problems with this right away, but it wasn't really my place to do anything (yet). So all I could do was warn the woman about him. BUT since he is so smooth with his manipulations, she didn't believe me.

One day I got a call from my mother, saying DB had come by to get some of his things. While there DB and my (13 y/o at the time) brother got into an argument...and somehow my brother "fell down" the concrete stairs and busted the back of his head open. Brother was being rushed to the hospital, so I headed that way immediately.

He now has slight brain damage but he was healing up fairly well. After he got out of the hospital, we all suggested he stay with our aunt (my moms sister). So he did. By this time he had a restraining order against DB and we hadn't seen or heard from him, which is good.

About 4 days into his stay at our Aunts, his cellphone rang with a number none of us knew. When brother answered it was DB, and he was livid. We could all hear DB over the phone as he was yelling every word. Saying he was going to come "take HIS son back home" and that DB "has had enough of this over dramatic babying of his son! His head will be fine!"

I set my hand out and brother hands me the phone.

ME: "If you come anywhere near him, we will have the police on your ass so fast you won't even catch a glimpse of brother." I said this in a calm but firm voice. DB huffs and hangs up.

We figured that would be the end of it. DB wouldn't be stupid enough to violate the restraining order right??

WRONG.

About an hour later DB whips into the drive way and begins stomping up to the door. I have myself parked right in front of the door.

DB: MOVE!! I'M HERE TO GET MY SON!! YOU CAN'T KEEP HIM FROM ME!!!

ME: Oh yes, we certainly can.

By this point my uncle had already called the police and is now recording us. I'm no so sure that DB noticed. DB yelled at me again.

DB: MOOOVVVEEEE NOW!!!

ME: There is no way in hell that I am letting you in. You will just have to go through me.

DB: Fine. By. Me.

He says monotoned staring me down with a look that could kill a demon.

WHAM!!

The first punch landed in my stomach, the second made contact with my chest and the third missed most of my body.

[In the state I am in, it is considered self defense if they have hit or swung at you 3 times. BTW I also have two black belts]

CRACK!!

I palm healed (hit with the bottom part of the palm of my hand) him in the pelvis. Causing that little piece of cartilage that holds your pelvis together....to bust. So the bones in his pelvis fell together and he collapsed. He couldn't walk, sit, or stand.

When the cops arrive, he begins to wail about the pain and how he wants to press charges for assault. But my uncle has the video showing that it was self defense. (I don't ever start fights, but I'm damn well gonna try to finish them).

Uncle showed the video to the officer and I let him know about the restraining order and why it is in place.

The officer begins then to read DB his rights as he gets into the ambulance.

So after about 6-8 months, he had surgery twice to try to fix his pelvis, but to this day he still walks with a limp and a cane. And I hope each step reminds him of what he has done.

Revenge over right??

WRONG... ;)

I did some research on him and apparently he had been dating, his now wife, way before he and my mother got divorced; however DB had been telling wife that he was already divorced and she believed him.

He was also hadn't told her about his criminal record or me. ;)

So I dug up any scrap of anything that I could use as evidence against him, to show his new wife, so she could see how he really is. He apparently had also told her, he limps because he has "bad arthritis".

The two of them frequented a vape shop in my town, and so a plan formed. I grabbed up all my evidence and went to the vape shop to wait.

They finally came through the door, and I went up to "say hi".

ME: Hello DB. How are you?

DB: OP! What are you doing here....(in a kind of sheepish voice)

Wife: Honey, who is this?

DB: She's my...She was my...errr...

ME: Hi, I'm the reason he limps, its lovely to meet you.

Her eyes got as big as dinner plates as she turned her gaze on him.

She went to say something but stopped...still in disbelief.

ME: Oh and I have a surprise for you!

I say in a sweet sing, song voice as I hand her the folder full of evidence such as : Divorce papers proving he was lying and cheating, testimonies from my siblings and I about how he is in the home, and his criminal record spelled out. I even threw in one of his mug shots, just like the cherry on top.

She sat at one of the tables and was reading through everything and she was shaking with anger, I feel sorry for her but she CAN do much much better.

So he is now divorced (again), broke (no job), living with his mother, and will limp for the rest of his life.

Pro-Revenge Completed.

TLDR: My step-father was abusive when we were kids. When we got older he bashed my brother's head. So I made his wife divorce him as well as I gave him a limp he has to deal with from now on.

[just-a-spark]

The Before, and The After Part 4

A Knives Out Story

Story Masterlist

Warnings: Language, Sexual Content (18+ to be safe)

Summery: A wealthy classmate of Meg’s becomes close to the family, a little too close to the playboy grandson of Harlan Thrombey. The events leading up to, and following, Harlan Thrombey’s death.

“Lizzie!” Joni’s voice called as the redhead entered the Thrombey Estate.

“Hi Joni.” Elizabeth cooed as she wrapped the woman in a light hug, “I’m so sorry for your loss.”

“Me too, Lizzie. It just doesn’t seem real. I can’t believe he’s gone... how are you doing with everything?”

Elizabeth nodded slightly, sucking in a sharp breath through her open mouth. “I’m... okay. I just wish we had the chance to patch things up before he- I wish I could have one last conversation with him.”

“Honey, don’t we all.” Joni grumbled, finally sparing Phillip a glance, “Good to see you. Is your father coming tonight?”

“Not tonight,” Phillip answered, “He isn’t able to make the trip out two days in a row, but he sends his love. He’s looking forward to seeing you all tomorrow.”

“We are all looking forward to tomorrow-“ Joni started, referring to the will reading, but Meg appeared and quickly wrapped Elizabeth in a hug.

“Lizzie, thank you so much for coming! It’s been such a fucking shit show today.” Meg sighed and tugged her friend away. She looked over her shoulder at Phillip, as if she forgot he was there, “I’m stealing her for a moment.”

“Take all the time you need!” Phillip called as he followed Richard to the kitchen to get a drink.

Meg led Elizabeth into the library and she felt her heart sink. She missed lounging around in Harlan’s comfortable chairs as he edited her writing and gave her advice. She missed his laugh when Elizabeth would say something crass and she’d blush tomato red, remembering herself a moment too late. She missed Harlan’s subtle clues, the way he’d always say “Miss Reynolds, I won’t be giving you anymore help until you do something about that mess of yours. Go upstairs and I’ll meet you back here in two hours.”

Two hours was generous, and nobody, not even Meg, suspected anything odd about the ritual. Sometimes Harlan would send her away several times in a visit, yet nobody ever questions why she had no work to show for her efforts.

Elizabeth pulled herself back to reality. Harlan was gone. That book on the shelf, the one he’d created for her to gush words onto pages in her messy cursive writing, sat on the second shelf from the floor. It taunted Elizabeth, reminding her she’d made a selfish mistake. As Harlan told her, she sold out for the money.

Away from everyone else, Meg pulled out her vape pen, “This is a fucking mess. This Blanc guy is interrogating everyone. Pretty sure his car’s still outside.” She mumbled, then offered the pen to Elizabeth, but she refused. Meg scoffed, “What? Are you too good for this kinda shit now? Your husband wouldn’t approve of it?”

“No... it’s not that...” Elizabeth trailed off, not wanting to talk about her husband.

“I just always imagined you with someone... else. Don’t get me wrong, Phil’s fine. He’s nice, I guess. Just not... your type.” Meg said nicely, and Elizabeth could tell she was holding back her feelings, something the rest of her family wouldn’t have talked around.

Joni would have come out with it: Phil was short, plump around the gut, and not terribly handsome with his thinning hair and mustache. He was almost forty, a good twelve years Elizabeth’s senior. He came from a good, influential family. He was poised to take over his father’s booming law firm and he’d had bad luck in love. A sweet, sweet man who deserved the world found a failing author who needed a safety net.

Elizabeth’s parents were so proud.

Meg waited for Elizabeth to answer, but the redhead stared at the bookshelf, unable to pull her eyes away from that white bound book on the second to bottom shelf, “I’m pregnant.”

“What?” Meg snapped her head back toward Elizabeth, almost dropping her vape, “You’re pregnant? You’ve been married less than two months-”

“I know... I know.” Elizabeth threw her hands up to cover her face, “It was a honeymoon baby. It wasn’t planned. Trust me.”

“Shit Lizzie... you’re in it for the long haul aren’t you?” Meg laughed, but pulled Elizabeth’s arms down, “Do you not want it?”

“Of course I want it, it’s a baby, not a purse. I can’t just get rid of it.” Elizabeth grabbed her stomach protectively, looking down almost fondly, “I just wasn’t prepared for it to happen so soon.”

“Lizzie? Is that you?” Linda’s voice called from the foyer and Elizabeth shushed Meg loudly as Linda Drysdale came swooping into the library. “Lizzie.” She cooed with venomous sweetness, “Thank you guys so much for coming. It means so much to us.”

“I’m so sorry for your loss. Is there anything we can do?” Elizabeth asked as she grabbed Linda’s hands, feeling her cheeks heat up as she silently prayed Meg would keep her mouth shut.

“No sweetheart, we’re just fine. It’s just nice to see you. I’m sure Dad would have appreciated you being here.” Linda said, but Elizabeth knew she was lying through her teeth. She smiled, but it was full of malice, “I’m sorry things were strained in the end. I never understood what happened between you two. Dad was so upset after Easter dinner.”

Elizabeth nodded, calculating her response slowly, “Your father and I envisioned different things... for me. For my life.” She corrected, lifting her left hand to scratch the back of her neck beneath her hair, “He tutored me, he guided me, but unfortunately I couldn’t live up to the greatness he expected from me.”

“Well,” Linda muttered with a shrug of her shoulders, “Some people find their own success. Some need others to help them get by. There’s nothing wrong with that.”

“No. I guess not.” Elizabeth straightened a little and grinned confidently, “We all have to make choices to do what’s best for ourselves.”

                                       Two Years Ago- New Years Eve

Harlan raised his champagne glass in front of his knife collection in the library, “To family, to friends, and to a glorious new year!”

Applause erupted around the room as his guests cheered, drinking their own champagne after his lead. Lizzie beamed at the author from his left and he looked to his watch, then motioned for her to approach but her parents rushed to his side first.

“Oh Mr. Thrombey, this party is phenomenal! Thank you so much for the invitation!” Elizabeth’s mom slurred as she tipped a little of her wine out of her glass.

Harlan smiled knowingly, nodding his head a little before addressing the woman, “I’m glad you are enjoying yourself. If you don’t mind, I’d like to speak with your daughter for a moment alone... I have some ideas I need to run past her for my next book.”

“You hear that honey, Harlan Thrombey need to speak to our daughter about his new book! Can you believe it?” Her mother drawled and her father just smiled and put his arm around his wife.

“We’ll catch up with you later, sweetheart.” He told Elizabeth and led his wife away to chat with some other guests. Elizabeth was vaguely aware of her father calling to someone named Alan as she turned back to Harlan.

“What can I help you with? Do you want to get out of here? Head to your study to work?”

“No.” Harlan answered, looking at his watch again, “It’s eleven-thirty. If you were to sneak away now, I don’t think the other guests would notice if you weren’t back by midnight.”

Elizabeth grinned, pressing her red painted lips together as she raked her fingers through her scalp to her updo. “Where would I go at midnight, then?”

Harlan looked across the crowd to the entrance of his library, eyes locked onto someone behind Elizabeth, “We’re setting off fireworks on the west lawn away from the trees. If you went to the second floor bedroom, you should have a pretty good view from the balcony.”

Elizabeth swallowed down her feelings and nodded, “That does sound nice. Get away from all this for a little while.”

“I envy you for that.” Harlan gave a little wave to Marta as she approached, clearly uncomfortable in her knee length dress. “Go have a good time. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Elizabeth leaned forward and kissed Harlan on the cheek, then darted through the mass of party-goers toward the hallway that would lead her to the main house. She slowed down when she noticed a gorgeous man sitting in a chair near the entryway. He seemed to be writing something, occasionally looking up to make sure nobody was watching, but no one seemed to care what he did.

The attendees seemed to think Ransom Drysdale was invisible, but he was the only man his Eliza saw-

“Darling! Have you met Phillip Stevens? His father is the attorney for the Thrombey Estate.” Elizabeth’s mother explained as she grabbed her daughter’s arm and pulled her into the circle. Elizabeth smiled weakly and jutted out her hand to shake Phillip’s, looking over her shoulder in a panic to find Ransom gone from his spot.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you. You’re parents have told me a lot about you, as have the Thrombeys.” Phillip explained, noticing her absent expression. “Are you okay?”

“Yes.” She croaked, seeing her white bound book placed on the second from the bottom shelf. “I’m fine. Just had a bit too much to drink.”

“Oh Honey-”

Phillip gently grabbed her hand and Elizabeth’s head darted up to him, noting that he was much older than her, but looked at her with kind, hopeful eyes. “We could go out and get some air?”

“Uh, maybe, I-” Lizzie stammered, but her father gave a firm nod, staring at her darkly. She swallowed and lowered her head submissively, “Some air would be nice.”

Phillip offered her his arm and lead her toward the foyer. As they moved toward the back door of the house, Lizzie looked up toward the staircase and met Ransom’s eyes, mouthing I’m so sorry as she was led outside for some air.

Ransom swallowed hard, watching as the lawyer’s son swept his girl away from under his nose. He considered finding another woman to pound into the new year, but he’d waited so patiently. He’d endured Thanksgiving and Christmas without her, and he didn’t want his plans to go to waste.

But seeing her led away by Phillip Stevens, a man who’s worth and wealth outshone his own, made Ransom realized she was never his to lose. So he stomped up the staircase to the west bedroom alone.

Lizzie stared up at the snowflakes that fell from the Massachusetts sky. Phillip spoke so sweetly to her, but the fresh air didn’t help her at all. She shivered, not dressed for the snow in her strapless gown.

“Oh.. I’m so sorry. Here.” Phillip pulled off his own jacket and draped it around her shoulders, and she smiled up at him thankfully. He was... nice. Just a little taller than her, enough to look up, but not nearly as tall as- others. He was portly and a mustache was beginning to grow. He looked at Elizabeth with true interest, and perhaps a hint of nervousness, “Is that better?”

“Yes. Thank you.” She muttered, already seeing where this was going. “My stomach just isn’t very happy right now. I may need to use the restroom.”

“I’ll walk you there, I almost know my way around.” Phillip teased and Elizabeth just smiled weakly, summoning what little care she could. “Let’s go.”

“I’m fine. Really... You go back to the party. I’ll be there soon. I might be gone for a while, I don’t want you to miss the fireworks.” Elizabeth assured the older man and he nodded, seeming to catch her drift.

Phillip took her hand and kissed it, and she felt her stomach twist in knots, “I’ll see you in a while, then. I’d love to talk to you more.”

“Yes. Later.” Elizabeth promised bleakly, hoping he couldn’t see how dismissive she was being. If he told her parents she’d been rude, she’d find herself berated in the morning when the alcohol wore off and the headaches began.

She scrambled through the doors and darted up the staircase, forgetting she was supposedly drunk and sick. She didn’t care much about what people thought of her, she was late.

Meanwhile, Ransom leaned against the balcony in the west bedroom. His breath turned to smoke as he huffed into the cold night air, but he continued to watch as Harlan’s team set up for the fireworks display.

Ransom didn’t give a shit about the fireworks. He cared about money, booze, sex, and not much else. Seeing as he wouldn’t be getting laid this New Years, he considered popping open the thousand dollar bottle of bubbly he’d placed in ice in the bathroom sink before the party started.

He couldn’t shake the image of his girl with the lawyer’s son. He was wealthy and powerful, heir to his father’s law firm while harboring a glistening reputation of his own in the courts. He was older than Ransom, and a thousand times more significant.

Ransom knew Lizzie didn’t intent on being a trophy wife, but she was struggling after leaving college. The money was running out, and her parents were running out of patience. The idea of their daughter marrying for money and stature wasn’t just accepted by the Reynolds, it was encouraged.

The young Drysdale knew he didn’t fit the bill. Wealth he had, but he didn’t have a job, a plan, and no reputation except for Trust Fund Playboy. Elizabeth wrote that she jokingly suggested him, only to be shot down her father who wanted his daughter to find a more “reputable” husband.

Not that Ransom had any intentions of settling down, especially with Elizabeth.

But her absence was disappointing since he’d actually put in effort for their rendezvous for once. He pushed himself away from the balcony with a loud sigh and left the door open, allowing the room to grow cold as his demeanor. Ransom grabbed the bottle from the sink and unwrapped the Veuve Clicquot ruthlessly, discarding the foil on the floor. He slunk back toward the balcony, standing just inside the door as he grabbed a decorative knife from the bedside table and used it to send the cork flying into the yard and bubbles foaming onto his hand.

Ransom put the bottle to his lips, the alcohol like water in the desert for him as he allowed himself to fall onto the bed. He set the bottle against the pillow beside him and used his Armani shirt to wipe the remnants from his face. He considered going back to the party. There must be some pretty women there looking for a New Years kiss. Or he could stay here, alone, where nobody would yell at him or taunt him or ignore him. Ransom could save himself the trouble and do what everyone wanted him to do anyway: leave.

He picked up the bottle again and took a long swig, looking at the single rose he’d set on the dresser near the drawer. Suddenly the door swung open and Lizzie panted as she shoved it closed behind her, catching her breath before turning to Ransom.

Her worry melted away into a knowing smirk as he pulled the bottle from his mouth, “You didn’t wait for me?”

“Didn’t think you were comin.” He answered gruffly, taking another swig and turning away. “How’s Phillip?”

“He’s nice.” She said bluntly, taking a step closer. Neither made a sound, so her heels were deafening in the room. Finally, she sat on the bed beside Ransom and took the bottle from him, but she didn’t take a drink yet. “He’s not you.”

“He’s husband material.”

“But I love you.”

“I hate when you say that.” Ransom spat, reaching for the bottle, but she raised it to her lips and took three long swallows. He watched her neck as the liquid ran down, imagining instead she was swallowing him, so his anger settled, “We’re fuck buddies, nothing more.”

Lizzie grinned and gave him the bottle back, using her hand to run along his side as he faced her, “I kinda think we’re more than just fuck buddies. I think of us more as an open relationship.” She bartered and he huffed into the alcohol, “Hey. We don’t do labels, but I do love you. I’m allowed to love someone I know I can’t marry, can’t I?”

“I suppose.” He replied, leaning back and placing the bottle on the bed stand beside the knife, “I suppose if we aren’t labeling it, and I can do whatever I want, and fuck whoever I want and love whoever I want- I guess I love you too, Eliza.”

She shook her head a little, slowly lowering herself onto him as she dug her fingers into his hair. He heard loud counting down from the floor below, indicating it was almost midnight. Ransom reached up and ran his thumb along her cheek, studying her fancy hair and painted lips and imagining all the time it would take for her to look presentable enough to go downstairs.

“Ten... Nine... Eight...”

Eliza nuzzled her nose against his, and Ransom breathed her in, as if she was the only thing giving him air. She whispered, “All we have is tonight, Hugh.”

“Two...One... Happy New Year!”

Ransom pulled her down to him and kissed her sweetly, and for a brief moment, he considered wedding the redhead, if only to keep her in his bed forever.

[machihunnicutt]

whoops i kind of failed fic-vember (so have an Anne fic)

Hey ya’ll. Finals happened and then the holidays happened and I gave up on the last week or two of fic-vemeber. Here’s an Anne fic to say sorry.

Like My Heart is Hitting the Ground

(Or read on ao3.)

Anne had been firm in her demand not to work the same shifts as one Gilbert Blythe. She’d managed to get away with it, most of the time, eyieng the schedule every time her manager made it and adjusting her availability as needed. Her intense dislike of Gilbert (Diana called it a grudge but Diana wasn’t there at the inciting moment) began his first day on the job, when, while she was dusting a new batch of scones with powdered sugar, he pulled her braid and called her “carrots.” He got a face full of powdered sugar in retaliation.

But it was Christmas (and therefore winter break at the university) and Anne and Gilbert were the only two in town to run the shop.

“This will work out just fine if you stay over there and I stay over here,” Anne said, gesturing to the imaginary line that divided the back of Avonlea Coffee and Bakery.

Gilbert’s dark eyebrow rose into the mess of curls that fell over his forehead. “So I take all the orders and you’ll make everything.”

“Yes, exactly.”

“What if you need help with something?”

“I won’t,” she said, tightly. “I can handle myself.”

“I didn’t say you couldn’t, Anne,” Gilbert said, meeting her eyes. She hated it when he did that. It reminded her that Gilbert Blythe wasn’t bad to look at. He had a crooked, self-satisfied sort of smile and his gaze was effortlessly warm and guarded by long lashes. And if she was being completely honest with herself (which she wasn’t, she usually counted on Diana for honesty) he was entirely her type: big knitted hand-me-down sweaters, dark cuffed jeans, Converse, messy hair, and a plastic watch with a million pre-set alarms. Anne was attracted to exclusively nerdy wannabe hipsters.

Gilbert Blythe had apologized for the carrots incident, profusely in fact, but Anne wasn’t in the habit of trusting too easily.

“Good, then count the cash in the register and I’ll wipe down the counters,” she said.

“The spray bottles are on my side.”

“Fine, will you please hand me a spray bottle Gilbert Blythe?”

“Why do you do that?”

“What? Say please?” She crossed her arms over her chest and planted her feet firmly on the tile. Her apron had a few leftover stains and one of her braids was starting to come undone, but she maintained her show of authority.

“Call me by my full name, like it’s some sort of comic book name,” he frowned.

“I don’t know what you’re referring to,” she replied.

“You know, Bruce Wayne, Clark Kent, Peter Parker, Charles Xavier...Gilbert Blythe,” his mouth quirked up into half a smile and Anne rolled her eyes.

“Give me the bottle, Wonder-boy,” she said, and he obliged. “And to answer your question, I’m just trying to maintain a professional work environment.” She began wiping down the countertops, briskly, with the intention of ending this conversation.

“Could’ve fooled me, Anne Shirley-Cuthbert.”

Anne had started working at Avonlea Coffee her second semester as an education major at the university. Her scholarships covered housing and a good portion of her tuition, and Marilla and Matthew had sent her off with enough money for textbooks, but she realized her summer job savings weren’t going to cut it the hard way. The second week of spring semester her card got declined when she was buying groceries. Luckily she was there with Diana (angel among men), who covered for her. The next day she sent out a slew of applications. Now she’d been at the shop for two and a half years.

“Welcome to Avonlea Coffee and Bakery. What can we get started for you?” Gilbert’s smile when greeting customers managed to hide the bags beneath his eyes.

“I can’t believe you’re open on Christmas,” the woman at the counter said. She was the twelfth to say so in the last two hours. Nevertheless, Anne had a steady stream of orders to make.

“If you want to switch, let me know,” Gilbert said, halfway through the shift. It was the third instance of Wham’s “Last Christmas” on the shop’s holiday playlist and Anne was tired.

Gilbert was counting the remaining scones in the case. They were down to five and she desperately hoped she wouldn’t have reason to put in another batch.

Outside it had begun to snow, big white clumps that reminded her of walking in Green Gables, at dawn when the snow was heavy and untouched, blanketing the grass.

She hadn’t been back to Green Gables since school started, though she called Marilla and Matthew at least once a week. She’d tried to get them set up on FaceTime, but neither was technologically savvy enough to complete a successful video call. The longer she was away the more her gable room showed up in her dreams: fluffy white comforter that smelled of lavender and detergent, tiny wood desk where she’d studied for her slew of AP exams, Marilla’s lacy curtains that just managed to keep the sunshine out in the morning, and of course the cherry blossoms outside.

“Do you have a ride home? Or are you walking in all that?” Gilbert asked. He looked out at the icy sidewalks and she watched his jaw tighten.

“I’m walking, but I’ll be fine. Thank you,” she replied.

“Are you sure? I’d be happy to...”

“What brings you to the Christmas day shift, Gilbert Blythe?” She interrupted.

“Oh,” he blinked. “Well, I could use the extra money.”

“You’re not going home for break?”

He shook his head and looked back down at the scones. “My dad died earlier this year and I...I sold the house, so I don’t really have a home to go back to. I have a friend back in my hometown, Bash, who invited me to stay with him and his wife for the holidays, but I thought it would be easier and cheaper to just stay here and pick up some extra shifts.”

“I’m sorry,” Anne said. “I didn’t know.”

He laughed nervously. “It’s fine. It’s good to be here when campus is empty, I can catch up on studying. Pre-med and all that. What are you doing here, Anne?”

“My...Matthew, my guardian, is sick and we don’t really have the money to spare for me to fly home. He’s fine, getting better I know, but having a whole big Christmas at home would be a lot right now and I didn’t want to cause my adoptive parents any trouble. Of course they protested.”

“Of course,” Gilbert smiled. “Who wouldn’t want to spend Christmas with Anne Shirley-Cuthbert?”

Anne rolled her eyes and turned away to restock the paper cups and hide the blush spreading over her face. The shop was just warm. “Are you all alone then?” She asked, after a moment.

“My roommates have all left for home, so yes,” he said.

Anne thought about Gilbert Blythe all alone in his apartment, pouring bowls of cold cereal or opening cans of Red Bull, or whatever sad, lonely, study food he ate.

“Well, if you like you can join my roommates and I. We’re all still in town and decided to do our own Christmas. They’re both working today too, so we saved the gift giving for tonight.”

“I don’t want to intrude.”

“You wouldn’t be,” she shot back, suddenly hell-bent on keeping Gilbert Blythe from a Christmas alone. It was sad enough not to have a home to go back to. “Join us, please.”

The front door bell dinged and another wave of customers came in out of the cold, putting the conversation on hold for a moment.

“What do you think?” Anne asked. It was nearly closing and she was halfway through cleaning the espresso machine.

“Okay,” Gilbert said. “If I can drive you.”

“Deal,” Anne said, extending her hand to shake his.

“You’re on my side,” he said.

***

Gilbert Blythe started work at Avonlea Coffee and Bakery at the beginning of his junior year. It was his second job. He worked assorted evenings at the automotive garage down the street from his apartment, and divided his remaining time between a full schedule of classes, homework, and the occasional handful of hours of sleep.

The day he met Anne Shirley-Cuthbert she had flour on her freckled nose and was expertly crafting a latte. She didn’t pay him any attention as their boss trained him, and continued to effectively ignore him the first shift they worked together.

“Do you know Anne very well?” He asked his co-workers during their break. Billy and Charlie were vaping in the alley beside the shop. He sidestepped clouds of vapor and tapped his foot.

“She’s bossy. She’s worked here forever,” Billy said. “I hear she’s got a whole orphan sob story. I’d keep my distance if I were you.”

“Not much to look at anyway,” Charlie put in.

Gilbert considered this for a moment. “Well, I should be getting back.”

“We have five more minutes,” Billy said.

“I know, I’d just rather spend my break inside, and not with you two.”

He tugged on her braid to get her attention. Childish? Absolutely. But he couldn’t think of another way, and he’d never purported to have the best judgment.  

He hadn’t worked with Anne much since, but he’d seen her at the end of her shifts, when he took over for her. She was great with customers; she knew all the regulars by their orders and their names. She added special touches to all the cakes she decorated: buttercream roses, dainty chocolate work, tufts of spun sugar. And Anne always looked pretty in a way that he had to try really hard not to stare at all the time. When it was warmer she wore long, flowy, floral dresses that fell to her knees and clashed with her heavy work boots. In the winter she wore the same dresses with tights and cardigans and long scarves wrapped around her neck. Her hair was almost always braided. He’d seen it down once, curled on her birthday when their boss had brought her a box of her favorite lemon cupcakes.

“You can turn here,” Anne said. She was in the passenger seat. Her dress was red with tiny black flowers. The navy cardigan and coat she had over it nearly swallowed her small frame. “My house is on the right."

This was a pity invite, he knew, but there was still something exciting about Christmas with Anne. Maybe they were turning over a new leaf.

Anne scooped up the box of discount pastries she’d salvaged and led him up the steps to her house.

“Anne’s home!” He heard a call from the kitchen and a woman with dark hair and unevenly cut bangs looked back at them. She was stirring a pot of something that smelled like apples and cinnamon and she seemed to be Anne’s stylistic opposite: heavy eyeliner, dark turtleneck and pencil skirt, nose piercing, and ruby red lipstick. “Oh, hello. Who’s this?” She said.

“Diana Barry, this is my co-worker Gilbert Blythe. Gilbert, meet my roommate Diana.”

“Gilbert,” Diana repeated, giving Anne a look Gilbert couldn’t read. “Nice to meet you.”

“Likewise,” he replied.

“He’s joining our band of stranded misfits for the evening,” Anne said. “If that’s alright.”

“It’s alright with me. Just be warned that Jerry’s on his third glass of rosé already, and quite torn up about his most recent breakup.”

“Jerry’s an international student. His family's in Paris. He doesn’t fly home for breaks usually,” Anne explained.

“And my family’s abroad in London,” Diana said. “A trip they planned before they knew I’d paid for January term classes already. Either way, it’s much nicer to be with my lovely Anne.”

“It’s much nicer to be alone together,” Anne concluded.

“Alone?” Came a strangled howl from the living room.

“Anne, will you tell Monsieur Heartbreak that this apple cider will be done in five minutes and he better have his present for me wrapped by then?”

Gilbert followed Anne into the living room to see her other roommate sprawled face down on the couch. He turned his head toward them when they came in and moaned.

“Anne of Green Gables how could you bring a new beau to this sacred gathering of singles?”

“He isn’t,” Anne said, at the same time as Gilbert said “I’m not.”

Jerry rolled onto his back and put his head in his hands. “I am destined for suffering.”

“Wrap your present for Diana. Cider’s ready in 5 minutes. This is Gilbert, my co-worker. Please refrain from regaling him with stories of the many sorority girls who have broken your heart until I get back. I need to get my presents from my room.”

Diana brought the cider and offered Gilbert a glass of rosé, which he accepted along with the ten minute recounting of Jerry’s failed relationship. Anne came back and sat next to him on the couch. They all had wine and cider and cookies that Anne made with a recipe from home. Diana ordered pizza and over the exchange of gifts Gilbert learned a number of things:

1) Diana was a music student who studied classical piano for class but made her own songs on synth and guitar in her spare time. She came out as a lesbian last year and went to her first Pride with Anne that summer. Thus her gifts from Anne and Jerry were (respectively) a framed photo of Anne and Diana covered in glitter with bright grins and pride flags, and a pair of musical note earrings.

2) Jerry was an English major, despite the fact that he was dyslexic and it was his second language. He met Anne freshman year in their professor’s office hours and had had a spirited debate about Jane Eyre, which they continued over lunch every week while she edited his (otherwise excellent) essays for typos. He had the unfortunate habit of falling for sorority sisters and writing them embarrassing poetry that often found unsympathetic audiences on ex-girlfriend’s Instagrams post-breakup. Anne got him a mug covered in Brontë quotes and Diana got him a journal and a mood ring she insisted was stuck on “love struck.”

3) Anne’s friends really cared about her. They got her a joint gift, a silver heart locket that made her face light up when she opened it. “For all your love, kindred spirit,” Diana said. Gilbert couldn’t take his eyes off of her.

“Could you do the clasp for me?” She asked him.

“Of course.”

Anne swept her curtain of red hair from her neck and Gilbert undid the clasp and put the necklace on her. He had some trouble doing the clasp up again because his hands were suddenly very sweaty and Jerry, seated next to Diana and thoroughly drunk by now, started laughing as Gilbert could feel his face heating up.

“I’m cutting you off, Jerry,” Anne said as Gilbert finished with the clasp. “I’m going to put on some music,” Anne said. She rose to her feet and turned around to look at the three of them. Her form was glowing in the light from the kitchen and her hair became a halo of orangey light around her head. “Any requests?”

Gilbert shook his head dumbly and Anne disappeared into the kitchen.

“Mon amie, you are gone on her. I can tell,” Jerry said. He got up with Diana and the two of them began swaying to the song Anne had chosen.

“I’m not...I don’t...”

“Oh leave him alone,” Diana put in. She winked at Gilbert.

Anne had returned. “What do you think? It���s my usual playlist.”

She outstretched her hands and pulled him up off the couch. “Do you dance, Gilbert Blythe?” She asked. Her face was flushed too, no doubt from the wine, and she held him by his waist.

“Sometimes...” he muttered.

“I’ll have you know that tonight means nothing in the grand scheme of things.”

“The scheme of things meaning you’re always going to be angry with me?”

“If you keep giving me reasons to be,” she said, but she was smiling.

“What song is this?” Gilbert said. His head was buzzing.

“It’s called Townie,” Anne said. “I put Mitski on all my playlists.”

“We rotate,” Diana said. “Whenever we’re all together and need to play music.”

“Like at work,” Gilbert said.

“Like at work,” Anne repeated.

There's a party and we're all going And we're all growing up.

Anne swayed close to him. “I’m sorry, again, by the way. For pulling your hair like a grade schooler. I really didn’t want to get off on the wrong foot with you.”

Somebody's driving and he will be drinking And no one's going back.

“You didn’t?” She asked. “I was sure Billy and his goons had turned you against me.

'Cause we've tried hungry and we've tried full and nothing seems enough.

“Billy’s a dumbass."

So tonight, tonight The boys are gonna go for   More more more.

“Well I guess we can agree on one thing.”

And I want a love that falls as fast As a body from the balcony, and I want a kiss like my heart is hitting the ground.

I'm holding my breath with a baseball bat, though I don't know what I'm waiting for. I am not gonna be what my daddy wants me to be.

The rest of the night blurred out in a haze of laughter, dizzy dancing around the living room, and Jerry pulling him aside to lecture him in slurred, half-French about the perils of love.

“Merry Christmas Gilbert Blythe,” Anne said, as she saw him off.

“Merry Christmas.”

***

The next week Anne and Gilbert had more shifts together. When it was his turn to pick the music Anne heard Mitski on his playlists, in between his old music.

“Why is it that all of your music sounds like it belongs in a 50s diner?”

“Hey, I don’t complain about your music.”

“Yeah, because my music’s good,” Anne said. She was assembling a batch of macaroons as quickly as she could. Since Christmas they’d been engaging in a number  of competitive games. Right now it was timed macaroon preparation. Yesterday it was who could make the most complicated latte art.

“I’ve got to beat you now since you beat me yesterday.”

Gilbert leaned against the counter beside her. “What did you expect, Anne? A doctor has to have steady hands.”

“Yeah, yeah, time! How fast was that, Gil?”

“Gil?” Gilbert repeated, smile growing wide on his stupid face. “Since when do I have a nickname?”

“You don’t! I...didn’t. Did I beat you?”

Gilbert glanced down at the time. “You got me, Anne. Well done.”

As it had turned out, Gilbert Blythe wasn’t the absolute worst. The past couple of times they’d worked together she’d let him drive her home. He had one of those tree shaped air fresheners hanging from his mirror; it smelled like apples and cinnamon. He always cranked the heat up to make sure she wasn’t cold, though she never was. That’s what Gilbert Blythe was becoming to her: apple cinnamon and warmth, wrapping her up as he turned into her driveway.

“Do you have plans for New Years?” He asked.

“Diana’s spending the night with her girlfriend and Jerry’s with his French friends. They both said I could tag along but I don’t want to feel like the odd one out,” Anne said. She’d been the odd one out against her will for years; she wasn’t about to do it voluntarily.

“Well, if you want...I mean I was going to ask you if...uh, if you wanted to come to my place for New Years, in exchange for Christmas.”

“You don’t owe me anything.”

“I know that. I’m just...” he flushed. “Asking, Anne. I didn’t really have a plan. Pizza, probably, and champagne, watching the festivities on TV.”

“And at midnight?” She met his eyes.

“At midnight I can drive you home,” he said quickly.

“Okay,” Anne said, before her brain fully processed what she was agreeing to. She didn’t want to ring in the new year by herself, not when every day of the past year had been nothing but work (good, rewarding, exhausting work) and the coming year promised more of the same.

“Okay?” Gilbert replied. “That easy? I thought I was going to have to bribe you.”

Anne rolled her eyes. “Don’t make me change my mind.”

Diana insisted that Gilbert Blythe’s invitation was more than it seemed.

“He obviously likes you,” she said, sprawled on Anne’s bed playing Nintendogs on her beat up DS.

“He’s my friend,” Anne said, flipping through the hangers in her closet.

“Then why are you so concerned about your outfit?”

Anne sighed.

“It’s okay if you like him too, you know?” Diana sat up and looked at her. “I know you think you don’t have time for romance, with school and work and Green Gables, but you deserve something all consuming and tender and warm and...” Diana trailed off. They’d known each other for years. Maybe Diana knew her better than Anne knew herself. “I don’t mean to pry. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” she said. “Thank you. Happy new year.”

Diana hugged her goodbye. Anne stared at herself in her bathroom mirror and debated whether or not to put on red lipstick. When she was younger she’d look in the mirror and hate her face: mud splatter of freckles, tired eyes, fiery hair framing her features. Now she and her face were on better terms. Would lipstick tonight be overkill? She looked at herself intently. An all consuming love, that’s what Diana had said. Anne smiled, and put on the lipstick.

***

Anne sat cross legged on Gilbert’s couch with a breadstick in one hand and wine glass in the other. He tried not to grin.

“What? Why are you looking at me like that?” She said, but she was smiling. There was a crescent of lipstick on her glass’s rim. “I thought you were making dessert.”

“About that...” he said, taking a seat beside her. He held up a package of Oreos. “I’m not much of a baker on my own time.”

She laughed and selected a cookie from the package. “I’ve got you beat in the desert arena then. I make pies back at Green Gables.”

It was 11:30. She’d spent part of the night teasing him for the poorly hidden heap of laundry in his bedroom and overly animated voice on the phone when ordering pizza, part of it playing cards and watching TV with him at his living room coffee table, and part telling him stories of Green Gables.

“I’m sorry my New Years is so boring,” he said. On TV crowds were huddled in the snow, waving noisemakers and throwing confetti.

“It’s not,” she said. She moved so her shoulder was pressed to his on the couch. “Thanks for having me. It’s nice not to be alone. I wanted to have the holidays at home this year. I feel like all I do is work and go to class now, like I'm racing to an invisible finish line. It’s hard to be away. And with Matthew sick I...anyway, thanks.”

"And what if you get to the finish line and it isn't everything you thought it would be?" Gilbert added. "I know the feeling." He sucked in a breath. “It’s the first holiday without my dad,” he said. “I’m glad I’m not alone either.”

Anne put her hand over his. It was small and warm and he didn’t move a muscle for fear she would take it back.

“What’s that song?” He muttered. “That Mitski song, from Christmas?”

“It’s called Townie,” she replied.

“Do you want to listen to it? Would you dance with me, Anne? Like at Christmas?"

She looked over at him and smiled. “It’s nearly midnight, Gil.”

He’d become Gil, so quickly, without either of them knowing. He’d become someone she looked at softly. She’d become someone who made his heart feel like it was jumping around in his chest.

“But okay,” she said.

He didn’t know when the clock struck midnight. He was swaying with Anne in his living room. Her head was on his shoulder. His heart was hitting the ground. When the song was over she tilted her head up to blink at him.

“I have to work tomorrow,” she said. “At 7, But I don’t even care.”

“Can I kiss you, Anne Shirley-Cuthbert?”

“Yes, Gil, you can.”

He did, and she kissed him back. He took her face in his hands and kissed her for a long time. It still felt too short.

“You have lipstick on your face,” she told him. Her own face was flushed and her lipstick was smudged. “Happy new year.”

“Happy new year, Anne,” he said. He could hear fireworks, but it could just be in his head. It was a firework kind of night, new year or no new year.

“It’s going to be a good one,” she said. “I have a feeling.”

[junker-town]

The rise and collapse of a scalper’s sports card empire

Bribes, parking lot deals, and the cards you never had a chance to buy.

Warning: The following story contains strong language.

Tyrone sits in the middle of his three monitor setup like the cockpit of a fighter jet, one hand grasping a cup of coffee, the other his vape, alternating between stimulants and watching a scramble over spots in his newest break. “This shit’s been up 40 minutes and we only got two slots left,” he yells to his two business partners, pulling cards for their latest singles orders.

“Tyrone,” who asked not to go by his real name to keep his anonymity, elevated his hobby for collecting cards into a business three years ago, and turned it into an empire. Now he’s coming face-to-face with it all collapsing. “I knew we didn’t have forever on this,” he says, “I just figured it’d be the feds shutting it down, not some dumbasses at Target.”

May 14th was the end of an era for Tyrone. Target made the announcement they would no longer sell NBA, NFL, MLB or Pokemon cards following an incident outside a Wisconsin store in which a customer pulled a gun on another who’d just purchased cards. Signs, now posted all over stores in the country, read “To ensure the safety of our guests and team members, effective May 14th, MLB, NFL, NBA and Pokemon cards will no longer be sold in stores until further notice.” Walmart has not made an official announcement at this time, though there’s increasing speculation that they too will pull cards from shelves.

“That shit had me f***** up,” Tyrone says, shaking his head. “I dunno how it’s been working up north, but ain’t nobody in my area getting good shit from Target anyway.”

Tyrone began turning his hobby into a business like anyone else trying to get cards. He arrived at stores early on Friday morning, learning that cards weren’t stocked by Target and Walmart employees, but rather independent merchandisers who would enter the store on distributors’ behalf, and place items on the shelves. Tyrone would wait until the merchandisers arrived to put out the new cards, then pounce on them, buying out the store and immediately flipping them on eBay. It was a weekly ritual. Hit a store, move to the next, do the same.

“I’d spend HOURS in the car each week,” he laughed, remembering his beginnings. Tyrone quickly realized there was too much inconsistency. Sometimes he’d miss the merchandiser, or they’d go to another store first and throw off his route. Random shoppers would buy a fat pack (a wrapped package of multiple packs) as their nostalgia kicked in, having no idea what they were buying. This made his stock unreliable.

“It got exhausting, and frustrating as shit got bigger. That’s when I got smart about it.”

I know Luka and Ja, not Squirtle and shit.

After months of shadowing deliveries and driving around, Tyrone approached one of the merchandisers in a Walmart parking lot, and befriended them. He needed as much product as he could get his hands on, they needed to do their job. “I made it work for both of us.”

At the time the only thing really popping was basketball cards, particularly the highly sought after Panini Prizm series. If you went to Target or Walmart hoping to find Prizm basketball only to find it out of stock, there’s a good chance Tyrone had it, and you never had a chance of buying it.

“It was so easy back then,” he says. “They’d come in, put the shit on the shelves, snap a photo with their phone to show they did their job — then immediately pull it back down and buy it.” To the distributors, Tyrone’s merchandisers were doing their jobs, to the public they just thought they were too late and missed out on the cards. No one was the wiser, except for the merchandisers and Tyrone.

“I’d meet them at the end out their route, give them a stack — normally double what they paid, and everyone was happy.” As far as he sees it, Tyrone thinks the merchandisers got the better end of the deal. They just needed to meet him and make some quick money, he had to do the leg work to move the cards on the back end, but with prices skyrocketing it was worth it.

It wasn’t long before demand outstripped Tyrone’s supply, even having most of an east coast state in his pocket. He needed to expand, and began hitting up friends and family members in other states, bringing them into the fold. Before long he had numerous states, stretching from the east coast as far Texas in his network. Everyone giving kickbacks to merchandisers, sending the product to him, and profiting as he became able to sell product online for four times their value, sometimes even more.

“I was making less, because everyone needed a cut — but who cares. I was clearing $10k a month easy.”

Flipping fat packs and sealed product was nice, but the real money came in when Tyrone started getting his hands on hobby boxes. Larger, 12 pack boxes which brought more money, and more opportunity. “I can make stupid money on a case break, you don’t even know.”

A box, or case break, is a multi-participant venture in which a large number of people essentially gamble by buying pseudo-shares in a mass opening. Let’s say someone has a case of Prizm, you might pay $500 to get randomly assigned a team, then get every card from that team opened in a case.

For the individuals participating, it was a potential gold mine. Lucking out and getting the Pelicans could mean landing a five figure Zion Williamson card, at the expense of someone who got assigned the Hawks, and coming away with nothing. Trae Young isn’t worth big money, so Atlanta is seen as a dud slot. For people like Tyrone, selling the slots represents no risk — and all upside.

“Let’s say I’m paying three grand a case. I’m turning around and making five times that it in a break.”

With everyone desperate to open product hoping of landing a chase card, Tyrone was just in it for economics. “I’ll leave the gambling to the gamblers,” he says, “sure I’ll open something now and then for fun, but nah, moving sealed is where it’s at.” Soon, not even his vast network was enough to keep him in the cards he needed.

The fever spread from basketball into everything else. First football, then baseball, and finally Pokemon. “Pokemon makes me too nervous man,” Tyrone says to a friend who suggests they start buying it up, “we don’t know shit about those. I mean, can we break it? I don’t know. I know Luka and Ja, not Squirtle and shit. I’ll stick to what I know.”

“You have no idea how dirty this all is.”

As far as Tyrone saw it, he was providing a service. It had become impossible for anyone to get sealed product without spending thousands on boxes, and he felt that private card shops were cracking everything they were getting and selling singles online. Even then, he felt a little bad about what he was doing. “It sucks man, like I remember collecting cards as a kid,” Tyrone tells me, “none of these kids have a chance at buying packs. It’s all being eaten up.” As far as he was concerned, if Tyrone wasn’t scalping cards, someone else would — so why not him?

A large impact on the card market came not from flippers like Tyrone, but from Wall Street. During the economic downturn caused by the Covid pandemic, an increasing number of investment bankers were looking to diversify their portfolios with collectibles, and basketball cards were at the top of the list. Grading services like PSA and Beckett, once tapped only by enthusiasts trying to secure their most valuable cards, were now being flooded with requests to grade from big-dollar firms, aiming to solidify their investments.

“You have no idea how dirty this all is,” a lanky man named “Tom” calls from the back room as he assembles as eBay order. “I know this goes all the way through the system. I know Wall Street is talking to Panini and they’re engineering all this. Shit, I think ESPN is in Panini’s pocket too, pushing these players they know are signing.”

“Man, you’re tripping,” Tyrone says, rolling his eyes, not buying Tom’s conspiracy theories. “Don’t listen to him, I mean shit IS dirty, he right about that — but nah, nothing like that.”

Whether you believe the wild theories floated by collectors or not, it’s unquestionable that there’s a massive card shortage and it’s pushing prices through the roof. If you want to find a rare Zion Williamson rookie card now it’ll take not a few hundred bucks, or even a few thousand — but a second mortgage on your house.

Card collectors were tracking the price spikes daily, but when word got out to the general public that there were five- and six-figure cards being pulled from packs, it started a frenzy. Go to any store that stocked cards and you’d find empty shelves, people who were never interested in cards before were lingering around the section, looking to quickly make four times their purchase in a matter of hours be reselling online.

Word of Friday stocking got out. It wasn’t long before there were lines down the sidewalk, in the middle of a pandemic, of people waiting for store doors to open to they could rush the card rack. “My people started getting scared,” Tyrone said, referring to his merchandisers. “Not like they were afraid of getting hurt or nothing. They just didn’t want the drama of pulling the shit off shelves, someone reporting them and losing their jobs.” Soon the merchandisers started to pull out of their deals, no longer interested in the risks the quick money brought. It became more and more difficult for Tyrone to secure large numbers of cards.

This is the harsh reality of the #Pokemon TCG right now. It’s a mess pic.twitter.com/3RnbeGz07A

— Pokémon News (@TrainerINTEL) May 22, 2021

Then the news came cards were being pulled from shelves. “Nobody was ready for that. Shit, I don’t think Panini or Bowman were ready for that,” Tyrone says. Overnight the network he’d cultivated for years collapsed, but this wasn’t a man who looked like his world was crumbling around him — rather, he seemed calm. “I knew it was coming, just not this way. I have plans, believe me I have plans. Just not ready to talk about that yet.”

While Tyrone pivots to whatever he’s doing next, on Friday May 21, one week after pulling cards from the shelves, Target opened them up again for online-only sales. This time with strict limits to how many packs and boxes people could buy, effectively killing the scalping market. A great day for general consumers, and perhaps the nail in the coffin for those who made a living off cards in the last few years.

When reached for comment Target corporate said they had nothing to add to the card situation beyond their initial statement posted in stores.

[insomniac-arrest]

The Red Polka-dot Umbrella

genre: sci-fi, wlw, original

words: 3k

Classifieds

You were the women with the red polka-dot umbrella hurrying down the Gran Demeter subway station with a coffee spill down your blouse. I was the girl with the black shrink-wrap hat on next to the guy playing Toxic on his harmonica. 

You had on yellow heels and maroon pants, your wallet fell out of your pocket as you shouted at some Tom Cruise looking guy to slow down. You didn’t look back.

It’s a black wallet with a belt buckle around the middle and four pockets on the inside, no ID but you’re missing an expired costco card and a good movie ticket. More importantly, your ticker was tucked away behind around like all 300 of your receipts.

Honestly, I’ll admit I considered just picking it up and pocketing your twenty-five bucks (heads-up: I already used the ten to buy a new vape. My bad).

But this is why I’m writing you: dear red-polka dot umbrella woman, I saw your ticker. Your numbers are in the single digits

Please contact me immediately, here’s my website and my number: [redacted]

CALL ME

summary: a young woman tries to return a wallet in a faceless city of a million people as time runs out

Here’s what Sheena knew: Gran Demeter station was a terribly busking site, busking was still stupid no matter what her roommate Tomcat said, and some lady she didn’t know was about to die.

Well, ‘didn’t know,’ was a relative term. Sheena knew that the lady liked tacky key charms (5 receipts), bad coffee (17 receipts from Mike’s Hardbrew), and had a thing for brightly colored shoes and extra large ridiculous scarves (too many receipts to count).

She knew she had a well-worn wallet with four pockets, all of her credit cards were disabled, and that she kept her ticker in her wallet after the bracelet part looked like it snapped. Sheena looked at the bright red ‘six’ on the dials like it was about to personally insult her family.

“Goddammit,” Sheena bit as she looked both ways across the platform. She could feel the rails rumbling and the stars were peaking out between the glass panels.

She shakes her head and moves from one bench to the next restlessly, she checks her watch for the fifth time and hopes the tram security were still paid below nebula minimum wage. They wouldn’t bother her then no matter how long she loitered between trams 5 and 6/

Her watches speakers buss to life, ‘Miss Coilwrecker,’ she jumps when Kip addresses her by the name she’d asked him to a couple drunken nights ago.

“Uh,” she shakes her watch, “yeah, Kip?” She blinks, the universal assistant device blinks at her.

“You have,” buzz, “36 new messages,” buzz, “tram 340 coming in. Do you need a ticket?” “No Kip.” She says heavily with a sigh, running her thumb over the smooth leather in her pocket, “any of those messages end in someone yelling ‘punkt?’

“Around five ma’am.”

She blows air out of her nose, “Analyze the rest for sincerity levels.”

“Of course Ma’am,” the little device buzzes off, Sheena doesn’t think she’s communicated with it this much since month she lived here. She usually didn’t have any use for it except to order pizza and tell it to put certain songs on 12x repeat.

Sheena stood on her tiptoes as she got on top of the bench, the vibrations of the next tram shakes her through her toes. She grits her teeth, “come on.”

She rubs her fingers over the leather of the wallet again as the station braces for the repressurization of the tram, the smell of ozone already oozes out onto the platform. Sheena’s eyes are rake over the various people stuffed inside the first car.

Red umbrella, polka dots, bright scarves, she claws for anything she could possibly recognize from this lady. There was only today left.

Her pockets are weighed down and Sheena’s eyes bulge out as she spies a mountain of dark hair and someone wearing a bright yellow kerchief.

“Now we’re talkin,” she jumps down to walk toward the color just as the doors about to open.

She feels the woosh of the tram doors as they slide open and a rabble of commuters come pushing their way out of the interplanet transport tram.

“Oi!” Sheena pushes a Glibbon out of the way as he rubs part of his wet shoulder fins on her new jacket, she shakes off the sticky droplets before pushing her way forward toward the yellow.

She staggers forward and starts waving, “hey!” Sheena uses her outdoor voices as she elbows her way forward, “you in the yellow neck thing.” The woman was hurrying on rainbow high heels toward the exits blithely and Sheena groans as she has to start to jog forward.

“I said stop,” she reaches forward, “look you might be dying lady.” The woman in the yellow pivots on her heel, she turns on her roughly, “excuse me?” Sheena rolls her eyes, “hey you missing a wallet?” Yellow Scarf just blinks at her, Sheena snaps her fingers, “I said, you missing a wallet? Or just or manners...” She bites at her.

The woman bares her teeth, “I’m not missing anything, I have places to be. What are you going on about?” Sheena shakes her head, “okay,” she lets go of her elbow, “but if you see a woman in all this lot with a red umbrella,” she takes a deep breath, “her ticker is missing. It’s almost atta a zero.” The women’s eyebrows shoot up, “Well.” She clears her throat, her tone going down a few octaves, “I’ll uh, I’ll keep on the lookout.” Sheena gives her a little salute and watches her leave with her shoulder’s slumping, “yeah, thanks.” She says bluntly as she watches the yellow disappear and her heart sink. “Fuck.” That was mostly for her own benefit.

She starts scanning the crowd again, “Kip,” she speaks into her watch, “update.”

The little speaker on her wrist churns out a stream of static before responding crisply: “11 remaining messages, most reporting traces of confusion or tomfoolery.’

“Erg,” she watches a couple more bland woman pass, no red umbrella. No extra large scarves.

“However,” Kip pauses in some sort of misguided suspense algorithm coded in. “Current DNA swabs of public terrain interacted with is active.” “Yes?” Sheena eyes her metal screen, “this isn’t the damn Odyssey, get to it.”

Kip beeped, “77% DNA match of the wallet with a public database at 9:51am. Placed next to public handrails of Lilly Czern park. Midtown Curie burrough.”

Sheena nods several times in a row to a degree she feared might make her dizzy, “why the hell didn’t you say right away? Fucking ring me.” She starts to run, “we don’t have much time.”

“You told me on December 9th 3041 to install ‘chill protocol’ and I have in accordance been installing eve-” “Yeah yeah,” she starts to run.

The warm soggy air of Demeter hits her right away as she runs out onto the surface of the small planet, the familiar smell of poppy pretzel bites and corner booth food floods her senses. Sheena muscles her way through the early morning tram crowd and gets fed directions toward the high rises of the business district.

“Shitty firm ladies,” she shakes her head and can’t believe she’s trekking all the way down to the financial district to give someone back their expired Costco card. Sheena sucks it up and misses a ditch puddle as she fast-walks toward Curie Borough.

The sky above flashes lighter blue as the artificial ozone barrier tints for ‘mid-day’ ambiance, Sheena resists the regular urge to throw something at the sensors. A small dog yaps at her as she passes the first cupid trees and Sheena wrinkles her nose at it.

She stuffs her hand into her pocket and rubs the leather again, she didn’t have the heart to open the wallet yet and see if the ticker had gone down yet again.

“Miss Coilwrecker,” her wrist beeps and Sheena almost swallows her own tongue in surprise.

“What is it Kip?” She says gruffly as she passes the midsection of the long park and approaches the forty-story skyscrapers of downtown.

“Your friend Tomcat-”

“No.” “He would like to know-” “Absolutely not.” “He requires your presence at his ‘gig’ tonight. And,” there was a short stall, “questions your current choices in some colorful words.”

“Such as?” “Ahem,” Kip cleared some robotic throat it didn’t have, “stalking is frowned upon in all 50 planet districts. Let the moneyed clucks get what’s coming to them. Just because you’re going through a dry spell-” “Okay, I get it.” She cuts the universal assistant off. “He also reminds you to not get thrown in jail for having ‘one angry ass mug’ and threatening someone. Followed by more colorful words.” “I get it. Send him some colorful words back, I told him this had to get done, no stupid gig tonight or not.” She growls and glares down a security droid as it passes her.

“Which colors?” Kip asks briskly, almost off-put if I robot she programmed to have a British accent could be ‘off-put.’

“Fuck,” she says carefully, “off. Those ones.”

There is a slight pause, “Of course.” Kip buzzes back into silence and Sheena eyes the passing pedestrians on the sidewalk. Red umbrella. Sheena tries to scramble up on top of a bench to get a better viewpoint, she sees a sea of grey suits in all directions and hears the clatter of busy feat.

“Oh, left ma’am. DNA match with public crosswalk Zelda Street.” Kip pitches through in real time from her police record patch she installed.

“On it!” Sheena almost topples off the bench as she scrambles toward the crosswalk. Her pulse picks up as her eyes dart back and forth across a group of Nel in rapid chirping conversation. “Come on,” she turns in circles as she sees two different crosswalks, “come on.”

Sheena feels a peak of hopelessness as the city melds into a blur and she sees too many streets and not enough twenty-something woman. Sheena pauses when she sees red. Bright red.

“Kip,” she gasps as she reaches out and starts to run, a pair of bright green pants blared next to a wrought iron park fence.

Sheena takes a deep breath, “HEY!” She shouts and points, “you.” She must have said the words forcefully enough as a head of dark hair turns and the face of a wide-eyed young woman stares back at her. She had wide-set dark eyes and full lips, she was tall, a little taller than Sheena.

She had a red umbrella sticking out of her bag and a heavy silver scarf.

Sheena pointed at her and narrows her eyes, “don’t move a muscle.”

The woman’s eyes were still huge, Sheena reached into her pockets to bring out the wallet and throw it at her if she has to. She gets the leather in hand but that’s just as she hears the clacking of heels against pavement.

She looks up to see some disappearing green.

“What did I just say?” Sheena groans as she watches her target begin to run the other direction. “I swear, this is damn a charitable act!” Sheena calls after her.

She goes back and forth in her head for a moment, deciding if it’s worth it. In a burst of spite she follows her out into the crosswalk.

All she has to go off of is fluffy black hair and bright green pants, but the green was bright enough to put neon signs to shame, she ducks in between bushes and waves. “Wait, fucking wait.” The woman was trying to cross a busy street of tubes and geocars. She doesn’t look behind her, Sheena considers kicking her as she gets close enough.

“Wallet,” she calls out, “It’s your wallet.” The woman just looks over her shoulder at her and walks straight into traffic, Sheena throws her hands up, “oh come on.” She’s forced to find another way across the five lanes when the crossing sign comes on and she somehow catches the last of the woman entering a building. Sheena is about to go football-tackle that woman and stuff the wallet in her mouth when she gets a message.

“Direct transmission,” Kip drones, “direct transmission.” “Now?” She huffs, “I’m busy.” “Direct transmission sent at 10:21 am from proximate personal Kip.” “Uh,” Sheena stared at Kip for a moment.

“10:21, message received,” static goes over the speakers before comes out in a hollowed mechanical voice, “I don’t want it.” Sheena blinks, “Want what?” “Message analysis,” Kip pauses for a moment, “it.”

“I don’t have time for this.” She pushed her way into the building she saw the woman enter. The Demeter Planetary Bank building, the front desk person eyes her but she manages to get to the elevator and get inside.

Sheena starts by pressing all 27 of the elevator buttons and watches her elevator mates leave with a couple deep grumbles at her. “Yeah yeah.” She waves them out.

“Message received.” Kip informs him. “Repeat message received.” “What is it?” “Stop.”

Sheena clicks on one of the side buttons of her watch, “send back the message: hold the hell still and I will.” “Yes Coilwrecker.”

Sheena blows air out of her nose and waits.

She feels her skin crawl as she passes more endless dim hallways and sees nothing but unfamiliar faces.

“My name is Sheena by the way,” she says into her watch.

Kip clicks to life, “Would you like me to call you-” “No, send that to the girl. She somehow got my number.” “Visual transmissions are now possible through singular contact and-” “Yes, go tell her my name. And that her numbers are going down.”

Kip goes quiet and Sheena checks the last hallway to see if she could get anything, “message received on the roof.” “Yes!” Sheena bullies a timid looking office worker into pointing her toward the roof access and she runs. There was a lot of running today.

Sheena bursts the roof door open and hollers, “stop!” She catches the woman’s bright eyes, Sheena cups her mouth, “You’re gonna fucking die.” She puts her hands up defensively in response, “I don’t have any more money.” Sheena groans deeply, “no wait, not like that.” She backs up and Sheena closes the door behind her before yanking out her pocket contents. She takes out the ticker, the red letter announcing an ominous ‘3.’ “Have you even been paying attention to your VF? Dumbass.” Her eyebrows shoot up, “someone really found that…” Sheena balls up her free hand and cowboy-walks over, “yeah. And it was a pain.” The woman covers her face and groans as she descends to the ground, her legs buckling at the new, “just throw it over the roof.” Sheena’s face falls a little, “what’re you talking about polka-dot lady?” She peers up between her fingers, “...polka-dot lady?” Sheena shrugs, “For the umbrella.” She rubs her neck and the woman looks up at her curiously. “And you

“Flores,” she says slowly, “my name is Flores.” Sheena puts her hand out, “Sheena.” She says bluntly, “I’ve been tracking you for two days now. Sheena.” Flores cocks her head to the side, “just for my wallet?” Sheena shakes the ticker in her hand, “dude, you are literally almost at 0.” Flores turns away and faces the street view, she hangs her head and they both stare out over the city.

“What’s the point?” She sighs and swings her foot over the side. “Let’s just say I’m screwed either way.” She looks up and her hair falls around her face, “I couldn’t make it.” Sheena itches the back of her hand, she glances back at the door and then the spot next to the stranger. She rubs her nose for a moment, she takes the seat next to her, settling down slowly with her legs hanging off the edge. The dizzying gray streets lay below.

“Please,” Sheena pushes her wallet toward her, “you still have one more punch before you get a free coffee at Hardbrew. You still have 20% a chipotle burrito.” Flores turns her face toward her slightly, she grins slightly, “you went through my stuff?” “Well,” Sheena’s mouth falls open.

Flore cracks a painted smile and lets out a little laugh, like the scratch of bark or something low and rumbling tumbling through the air. “Alright then.” Sheena looks away, “I was trying to find a way to return the dang thing.” Flores chuckles again, “did you find it on the train? I was a little freaked when I first lost all 25 bucks and all of my dead credit cards.” Sheena flashes her a grin, “And like 300 receipts.”

“Those too!” They laugh.

Sheena looks at from her purple pumps to her flowey pearl shirt, “okay, but I may or may not have bought a new vape with your stuff, but uh.” She looks her up and down, “you looked like someone who could use their wallet back.” Flores puts her hand out, “Do I?” She hums, “you work down here?” Sheena lifts an eyebrow, “Do I look like I work down here?” She displays her chipped painted nails and ripped pants.

Flores smiles, “Right.” Sheena hunches over, “I was just playing in the terminal. Or. My friend was playing and I was making fun of him as all you business people went to work.” She snorts, “told him it was a bad spot.” Flores bites her lip, “you play something too?” Sheena pushes her wallet toward her, “tell you what.” She wags it in front of her, “pay back your ticker and I’ll play you something on my violin. Which,” she winks, “I don’t just play for anyone.” Flores frowned slightly, “why?” “I dunno, I don’t just whip out the amp for-” “No, I mean, why would you do that?” She seems a little struck, “You don’t even know me. You don’t have to… I’m just.” Sheena slapped her on the back and shakes her shoulder a little bit, “tickers are bullshit.” She says forcefully, “I wouldn’t wish a 0 on anyone, even not a shopaholic, brightly colored cute lady, ya know?”

“Oh,” Flores says gently, “that’s, that’s sweet. I suppose...I suppose it’s bad. When the VF goes...you know, goes.” “Yeah. Death is like,” she pokes her, “kinda bad.” She laughs warmly before leaning forward, she flinches, “I don’t suppose folding under crippling debt can be any better.”

Sheena follows her gaze thoughtfully up and away toward the skyline, “I’ll teach you how to get overly sized stupid scarves from thrift shops instead if that would help.” Flores snorts and then puts her head in her hands, “You know the most idiotic part?” Sheena studies her, “running around downtown for some stranger with bad habits?” She sniffs, “I went down to 13 ‘cause I thought I could buy my way into getting him to not fucking leave.” She almost shakes from something red in the other woman’s vision. She gives a hollow laugh, “none of it worked.”

Sheena looks away, she traces her eyes over the bumpy skyline, “Look,” She says slowly and puts her hand out, “this fucking place…” She meets her eyes, “it eats everyone up.”

“You’re telling me.” The lines on Flores face creased and fell. “But you made it all the way out here.” She leans toward her, “Made it this far.” Flores glances at her, she studies her hand like an intricate portrait, “yeah.” She takes her hand and they sit there for a very long moment, silently, waiting, watching.

“I remember you,” Sheena turns slowly as Flores speaks lowly, “I remember. The girl in black at the station, with the hat out. You weren’t playing though, yeah,” Flores smile was something faint and promising, the dawn. “It’s a shame.” They both look down and Sheena presses a knob on her watch, “here.” She starts the transaction as their skin graces each other. Flores mouth makes a perfect ‘o’ before Sheena touches her wrist softly, she closes her eyes and feels it, Kip makes the transfer.

Flores blinks a couple times from the contact transfer. “What…” She dives for her wallet, and Sheena looks away as the other woman sees the 17 on her counter now.

She hears another sharp gasp, “I don’t know what to say.” Sheena bites her lip, “everyone could use a break now and then.” She smiles down at her shoelaces, “I don’t mind being someone’s once or twice.”

“I think you overpaid me.” “N-” Before the word comes out of her mouth Sheena turns her head and finds a soft press to the side of her mouth, she gasps. She turned right into a slight kiss.

Another contact VL transfer, an electric pulse runs up her spine.

She pecks her on the side of the mouth, Sheena’s ticker goes up one more point. Her cheeks flare a particularly high tone of red and Flores face is equally rouge. “Thanks,” Flores squeezes her hand, “thank you so much.” Her eyes are wide and she feels something warm and fluttery rise in her gut, “you didn’t need to.” Flores smiles like the dawn again, wide and all-encompassing, “I know.” She bites her lip, “I wanted to. I didn’t mean, but I hope it wasn’t, I mean.” She was blushing again. “If it wasn’t-”

Sheena grabs her hand and lifts it up, “It’s a start.” She kisses the knuckles and Flores laughs as they lean into each other.

The breeze whips around them and they sit there for a very long moment with the promise of heavy clouds on the horizon.

Flores says she’s more than welcome to walk home with her under her umbrella.

[goodluckkatie]

King of the Hill

Part 2

Over the next few days we talked more and more. Hours and hours’ worth of conversations. Good morning text, good night text, and even phone conversations lasting 3 hours at a time. We were getting pretty serious if I do say so myself!

We decided with the distance between us he would come up to me for the following weekend and stay at my house. Normally I wouldn’t have agreed but I was really into him at the time. 

The weekend came and next thing I knew, he was walking through my front door. I was so excited to see him again! I could not wait to see where this was going with him.

We hugged and kissed, everything was just right in that moment.

We started discussing dinner plans. I thought to myself, “Hey, he just drove 2 hours to come see me, so I should get dinner tonight.” That seemed fair, right? So, as we started discussing different places around town, I just mentioned “Hey I will get dinner this evening since you drove all this way.” His response. “Sounds good.” Never missing a beat!

Now let me point out, I was not use to this. I have offered to pay for dinner many times before on dates  however, I have never actually been taken up on the offer. I am old school, I do believe the man should be financially responsible for the dating period. I am not saying I won’t pick up a check here and there, but I am a firm believer that I shouldn’t have to until I am official with someone and we are doing things as a “couple.”

Regardless I offered to pay for dinner and had every intention of upholding that.

We finally decide on a place and head out the door, we take my car since I am more familiar with the area and about 2 minutes into the trip, it happens. He pulls out that Douche Flute again. He even starts blowing that damn cloud in my car! MY CAR PEOPLE! All I can think to myself is “I am going to cut this dude, he is dead!” I take a few cloud infested deep breathes and as I am coughing out his second hand vape smoke I say to myself, “Drive, just drive Katie, don’t say anything, you are almost there.”

We arrive at the restaurant,  and as I open my doors I am that person. The person that releases a cloud of douche smoke as I exit my car.  Utter embarrassment to say the least. Regardless… I continue on.

Beggars can’t be choosers.

We get inside and get seated. The waiter approaches and I order a water, this man I am with however, orders a 32-ounce beer. That’s right… 32-ounce beer! You might ask “What is wrong with that?” Nothing if you are paying for it your damn self. Again, though I tell myself, “Katie, don’t say anything, don’t be that person.” We order our dinner and like before our conversation just started to flow. We are having another great time together despite my pure annoyance every time he picked up that keg of beer. I even got a little excited because he hadn’t got up and left the table to go vape.

Maybe things weren’t so bad…Right?  

Then, the second 32-ounce beer gets ordered, and all I could focus on now is the ridiculous bill he is racking up at my expense.

Then, the third.

I imagined myself jumping over the table and strangling him.

How rude!

Finally, the check comes and of course they set it beside him. A word is a word, so I grab the check. I think to myself after opening it and seeing a $74.36 bill... “This damn man better be worth a $70 dinner, I better be getting ALL the damn attention tonight!”

Now ladies, you know what I am talking about. We are all adults here! No judgement! 

We get up and I head to pay, he conveniently heads to the bathroom. Figures.

We load up in the car and vape our way home.  

Now I won’t go into all the details of the evening, but we had an “okay” evening.

The next morning, we wake up and I realized I had nothing for breakfast! I totally failed that weekend on prepping the house with food for company. I suggest we head to the local donut shop and get some breakfast. His response, “Yeah you should go get us something. What do they have?”

Again, “WTF!” My thoughts, “Oh so I am paying again?” But again, “Katie, don’t say anything.”

If you can’t tell I legit have the Devil on one shoulder and an Angel on the other!

Look, I am not saying I am not an independent woman. I am not implying that I can not cover my own self financially (but if I am being honest here…. barely) and I am not saying I am too good to pay for things but let’s get real here. I am a single mom of 2, I basically work to support their habits. I live in an overpriced crackerjack box and I drive a car that I pay entirely too much for so yes, I am conscious of my money and where it is going!

Regardless of his lack of understanding and consideration of my financial situation, I go get breakfast. We eat and enjoy the remaining morning and early afternoon watching movies and cuddling.

Time passes, and it is getting closer to time for him to head home. He turns to me and says, “Hey let’s go get lunch before I leave.” I don’t know, maybe it was the fear of financial doom in my eyes that he saw at the time but to my surprise he says, “my treat this time.” I am screaming in my mind, “DAMN RIGHT your treat, I have been fronting the bill this entire damn weekend for your broke ass.” However, I smile at him and say, “Thanks babe.”

We picked up lunch at a local pizza joint and headed back to the house after.

Shortly after returning home we are once again left parting ways. Despite the bumps financially and the lingering DF, I was still pretty excited to see where it was going to go. I know not everyone is perfect and overall, we had a good connection. I also know I am the queen at nitpicking and dwelling on things that are fixable! So I continued to push that angry little devil off my shoulder and focus on the good qualities.

As I watched him drive off I thought to myself “we might really have something!” I was obliviously smitten.

But like I said before, fairy tales do not exist.

[startingshortstories]

Let Them Burn.

Pages 1-6. Some of the facts in this story are true, but is a fictional story.

Pg.1

Alexa had never met the President before, let alone tell him that the United States was falling into raging fire. She needed to stay calm, which was hard enough seeing as her hand was trembling for coffee. Working and sleeping at the office for the whole week definitely wasn’t helping her appearance. She was still in her now off white blouse and now crinkled grey suit. Her hair was just passable, tied back into a low riding pony tail.

Thoroughly deep in thought, Alexa couldn't help but reflect on all of the data she had collected over the past week. Astonishing, the USA had become a domino effect of disasters.

Professor Arran Sigrun, her colleague and best friend stood on the other side of the room waving with a half eaten doughnut. The pair were alone, just waiting for the President to arrive. Escorted secretly down to an underground, dome like, meeting room. No windows, No sound, No one. A very basic grey room with chairs, a few tables and a simple presentation screen. They had plugged in their laptops and had been pacing the room in anticipation.

‘Look!’ said Arran, ‘You just need to state the facts. I know he’s done bad things to this country, but in this moment you need to forget it. He is still the President, and right now we have to try!’

Alexa narrowed her eyebrows as concern stemmed across her face.

‘Remember if you’re getting worried hold yourself steady, feel present. Think. A room full of Generals, members of cabinet and the President..best not to freak them out. Haha! you know that sounds like a set up for a joke! and they can all walk into a bar..’ Rolling her eyes at the awful attempt to make her giggle, a big grin grew on her face.

Suddenly the door slammed open.  A Whale of uniformed men chortling and pandering over the President all swept into the dome. Moving in to formation they fanned out to their seats with the President dead centre.

While they settled, Alexa took a second to process the man in front of her. He was medium sized but fairly chubby, more of toad stuffed into a suit than a man. His hair was tightly quiffed back pulling his fair eyebrows up slightly and his mouth was crafted into a permanent grimace. He had a general and a cabinet member sat to his right and one cabinet member on his left. All with unreadable expressions.

Taking a deep breath, the second they were settled Alexa stood strong and flicked on the first screen. ‘Gentlemen, Sir’ she gestured towards the President.

The President lifted his hand ‘Please.. don’t call me Sir’ Alexa smiled ‘Call me Mr President’.

Alexa’s face quickly realigned, disappointed. She held the projector button tightly. The President hadn't even looked up yet he was still tapping away on his phone, completely uninterested.

Pg. 2

‘Gentlemen, Mr President. Over the past week I have collected an unbelievably large amount of data regarding the safety, security and future for the people of the United States. I have summarised them into 3 key points and if not addressed immediately will result in the meltdown of the the entire country’.

She paused expecting the room to be holding onto her every word. Only to find a gargoyle of statues for an audience. The President still tapping away on his phone, seemingly more bored now that she was talking.

Pursuing on ‘Point 1. Since January the 1st there have been 196 mass shootings across America, The U.S Gun homicide rate is 25 times higher than that of high income countries. Taxes have been increased for the poor and lowered for the rich. 1/2 of the population believe this can be solved by war with other states.’

Feeling the blood rush to her face she took a deep breath and tried to make her tone deeper with a more firm power stance. She left a dramatic pause.

Stepping forward, the Generals shifting in their seats as she closed in on the President. Who was still looking down. ‘Mr President there will be a war within our own country, people will tear other people apart and not know why their doing it! They are angry and they are scared!’.

Waiting in anticipation for some sort of acknowledgment Alexa held her stare. He suddenly lifted up his hand. Turning his fat wrinkled finger towards the General sat on his far right.

Standing to attention, and stomping his foot to the ground. He was a tree trunk of a man in a thick deep green blazer. Decorated in multiple awards and badges, with big golden buttons down the front.

‘General Marcos!’ he announced. A strong shiver sailed down Alexa’s spine. ‘Ma’am we are aware of the situation and it is under control, your facts are incorrect and are extremely dramatic.’

Alexa gasped!

‘I came from headquarters this morning and can insure that the troops are waiting for any uncalled situations and have effectively settled the nation’. The room burst into a short and strict applause as General Marcos sat back down.

Stunned that she had just been passed off! Taking into account that it was the U.S. Government who contacted her so eagerly to arrive as soon as possible.

Pg. 3

She stuttered ‘Umm, ok..ay. Good then. I will continue to Point 2.’

Still confused as to what just happened she pulled herself together and strove to regain some ground.

‘Point 2. EPA’s new rules regarding major polluters in the USA to turn off their pollution controls, which the USA has now passed as law. Has resulted in 50,000 deaths a year directly from air pollutants. 80% of lung diseases are directly caused  by air pollution. 100 BILLION plastic bags are used by Americans every year. Tied together, they would reach around the Earth’s equator 773 times.’ Alexa again took a hopeful pause.  ‘Mr President the pollution we are making, is literally suffocating the nation.’

Alexa gestured her open hand out, knowing she had just slammed the facts and action was the only reply that could be given.

For a second time, the President raised his fat finger and gestured to the Cabinet member on his right. A man in a soft grey suit. In one confident motion he stood up pushing his glasses towards his face and approached Alexa.

‘Z. A. Ham’ Introducing himself. He had a thin piercing mouth combined with a striking narrow face, making it impossible not to be intimidated.

‘I have evidence that global warming is a myth, plastics and air pollution are naturally cycled by the earth. Your statistics of death toll’s is again, very inaccurate, the rise of things like smoking and vaping has proven to be the cause. You need no further action. We have already started a campaign’  He snakily grinned and sat down, enjoying his short applause.

Utterly speechless, Alexa panned round the dome. No one disagreed. They were meant to be highly informed! She glanced over to Arran who had one hand over his mouth, resting on a folded arm. He gave a quick nod to continue.

‘Right, I see.. you have investigated already. I’ll move on to point 3.’

The President did a deep sigh and waved his phone into his other hand.

Pg. 4

‘Point 3. America has been one of the leading countries, for the prevention of famine disasters. In the 2 years that laws have been altered, taxes changed,  jobs reduced, people can not eat. 25% who have more than one child can only afford to feed 1. Leaving themselves under malnourished and minimal to survive. Mr President surely this. is. an emergency.’ In her last desperate plea, Alexa pointed with an outstretched arm to the last slide of her presentation.

For a third time, the President swiped his hand over his screen and then waved his sausage finger to his left, pointing at the final man. Poised with one leg crossed he pushed against his knees and rocked up. He wore a dark navy suit had a strong jaw that was his biggest defining character and was walking straight towards Alexa.

‘Eker Barren.’ He hissed. She had already seen the pattern and was ready to be pushed aside and dismissed. ‘It would seem you have come to us with so many incorrect facts, we do not have a problem and have plenty of food, we are after all a very large country. Might we suggest that you leave today with one of our researchers and together you might return with some....updated stats’.

Alexa’s jaw dropped. She had worked so diligently and passionately, everything that she was trying to save and achieve had been washed down the drain. She took a step back against the desk behind her.

Eker Barren took his clap with respect and sat down. Barren went to wrap things up as if they had been there too long. ‘Now shall we..’

‘NO!’ Alexa abruptly interrupted. Barren giggled ‘I’m sorry did you have something to add?’

Ignoring him completely Alexa marched straight to the President slapped her small hands on the small desk in front of him.

‘Mr President. The world is in danger. there are people who need your help. Mr President people are dying. Sir!’...will you get off your phone!.

SMACK. The president slammed down his phone, still not for a second looking at her. The noise echoed endlessly around the stoney concreted room. Alexa took a very large gulp and stood back. That was a mistake. Her fiery nature definitely got the better of her.

He calmly pushed himself up from the table and walked around to meet Alexa. His eyes and their bodies were a dangerously close distance together. The tension of the room was ice cold and deadly.

Alexa now feeling ready to combust, remembered what Arran has said. She placed her hand on her stomach, and held tightly. Her eyes nervously panning up from his protruding spotless black leather shoes, tracing over his enormous dark coal suit and towards the fierce groundhog face that was challenging her.

Pg. 5

‘Girl, you have proceeded to make a long series of dangerous accusations, accusing the government. Accusing me. As if I were persecuting the nation and purposely trying to destroy the United States of America.’

‘But Sir!’

‘No.’ he interrupted. ‘We have offered you a researcher of our own in your pursuits, and you will take it. There are dangerous people out there and it is our duty to give the real facts. Before the government completely disregards your opinion...do you have anything else you wish to add.’

Alexa tugged at her bottom lip, she knew...she just couldn't leave without saying her piece.

‘There are millions of people suffering. Millions of people who rely on you. I can not leave knowing you will let them lose a battle they didn’t know they were a part of. I’m here to fight. Don’t leave them waiting for Death.’

Sharply. ‘Death is inevitable.’

There was an awful. Long. Pause. The President slowly cracked his knuckles in his hand one by one, and like he was reciting a story..

‘You can put it off but it will come.... War has been around for centuries and is only natural. Pollution is their own doing, those who have encouraged it have embraced it. Starvation has developed from greed. Natural selection, once it is settled, there will be an end.’

‘You would let millions die so they can settle natural selection.’ she exclaimed taking a step back.

The President, took one step closer. And whispered tightly to her ear.

‘If they don’t know how to put out the fire, then let them burn.’

The President slowly pulled away and stared at her, Alexa now frozen to the spot. His eyes reflected nothing, just a black abyss. The whisper had only been heard between them. He turned away and headed to the door, shouting back as he vanished into the vacuumed corridor.  ‘We’ll see you in a month with some accurate research’.

Pg. 6

Alexa fell back against the desk, Her presentation that had been carefully laid out now crumpled from her gripping hands. The door slammed shut, leaving a deep echo in the room. Arran and Alexa were the only one’s left.

‘I..I can’t believe it. I was raised to believe that the government was the best, that they were here for us, that no matter what we were the best country in the world.’

Alexa placed her shaking hand to her lips as a tear slipped down her cheek.

‘Arran, you were right.’ Stretching out his hand he held Alexa’s. They stared to each other with deep sincerity. They new what would be next.

Arran gently whispered. ‘In every revolution there is a Joan of Arc and I think now...we’re ready.’

Alexa nodded her head solemnly. ‘I had hoped that this wasn’t going to turn out like this and that my fears..were not true.’ Unbuttoning from the base of her shirt, she slowly peeled upwards to her belly. A tight black recorder had been strapped to Alexa’s stomach winding up her scruffy blouse. Holding Arran’s hand tightly she stressed ‘I got scared he would feel it when he got so close’.

She pulled off the recorder with the light still flashing red. It had recorded everything. She slipped it into the hidden slot of their laptop cases and released an enormous breath.

A small smile started to creep back, like life was returning.

With sincerity in his voice Arran wholeheartedly spoke his mind. ‘This is the beginning of a new revolution, this is the start of a better future’. He locked the laptop case tightly and they prepared to leave.

[toomanysinks]

This is the Stanford thesis presentation that launched Juul

Against a backdrop of public backlash and looming federal regulations, the world’s biggest e-cigarette manufacturer has released video of the original thesis presentation that launched Juul, with the hopes of making the case that its purpose is to do no harm — or at least less harm.

The founders of Juul have told their story before — the two met and became friends over smoke breaks at Stanford University, and eventually decided to design an alternative product to cigarettes. Juul today released a video of that thesis, presented by James Monsees (MFA in Product Design) and Adam Bowen (MSME in Product Design).

Bowen and Monsees say they started with the principle of harm reduction, aiming to keep the “good” and eliminate the “bad” from cigarettes. The people they spoke to said they were attracted to the ritual of smoking, and the satisfaction of basic human cravings like an oral fixation. However, smokers were tired of smelling like a cigarette and complained that, even if they weren’t being judged, they felt judged. Of course, hanging over all of this like a storm cloud is the fact that smoking is inherently bad for your health.

Monsees says in his presentation:

“Is it even possible to make a safe cigarette? What if smoking were safe? And even better, what if smoking wasn’t offensive to others?”

Back in 2004, when the presentation was given, Monsees and Bowen identified one of the strongest pillars of Juul’s value proposition as a cigarette replacement.

“It’s not the nicotine that’s really hurting you,” said Monsees. “It’s burning tobacco, the combustion and burning plant material.”

Professor at NYU’s College of Global Public Health David Abrams, who has advised Juul but not been compensated by them, told the New Yorker that the stigma of cigarettes has followed e-cigarettes.

“Cigarettes were a wolf in sheep’s clothing,” he said. “Now, with vaping, we have a sheep in wolf’s clothing, and we cannot get the wolf out of our minds.”

Part of the reason we can’t get the wolf out of our minds is the fact that minors have taken up e-cigarettes, and Juul in particular, in staggering numbers. For young people, nicotine and nicotine addiction have a far more egregious affect on health than they would for an adult former smoker. To teenagers, nicotine is indeed a wolf.

And it’s this issue that poses the greatest existential threat to Juul Labs. The FDA has asked for Juul and other e-cig companies to create and enforce new policies that will stymie use of these products by minors, but thus far Commissioner Gottlieb doesn’t seem too impressed.

In the presentation from 2004, Bowen presents a slide that shows the future company’s predicted demographic. On a scale from social smokers to pack-a-day smokers, Monsees and Bowen estimated that it would pick up users across the spectrum, with the majority of adoption coming from social/light smokers.

Ten years later, however, when the thesis project had evolved into the Ploom which then evolved into the Juul we know today, the company made a marketing decision that surely still haunts them. The early marketing campaign for the device showed young, hip models using the device. To this day, the campaign is cited by critics of the company for starting the youth craze over the device, which the FDA calls an epidemic.

Juul Labs has taken action to reverse this trend, including a $30 million investment in youth prevention, removal of non-tobacco-flavored nicotine pods from retail stores, deleting its social media, enforcing stricter age verification for online sales, an offensive legal push against counterfeiters and copycats, and a new $10 million ad campaign focused on attracting smokers to ‘make the switch’ to Juul.

“It [underage use] is an issue we desperately want to resolve,” Chief Product Officer and co-founder James Monsees said in August. “It doesn’t do us any favors. Any underage consumers using this product are absolutely a negative for our business. We don’t want them. We will never market to them. We never have. And they are stealing life years from adult cigarette consumers at this moment, and that’s a shame.”

Whether Juul’s efforts will be enough to prevent further regulation remains to be seen.

But from an entrepreneurial perspective, it’s interesting to see the earliest seed of a company that has now become a behemoth in its respective industry. In fact, Juul has grown to the point where Altria, makers of Marlboro cigarettes, have invested $12.8 billion in the company.

It’s also fascinating to watch the rhetoric around Juul evolve based on the state of regulation. In early conversations with Juul, back when it was called Ploom, the team was highly sensitive to the concept that the device was a smoking cessation product, lest it be regulated as such. With regulation now inevitable, cessation has become the top focus of the company.

juul 2014, early startup era vs juul 2019, with enormous amounts of outside capital investment pic.twitter.com/8M0qgjddgW

— rat king (@MikeIsaac) February 23, 2019

Studies show that 40 to 55 percent of adult smokers who used Juul switch fully from combustible cigarettes within 90 days.

Alongside the thesis video, Juul also released a video of present-day Monsees and Bowen recalling the product design process for Juul.

“We started this project with the firm belief that innovation could address all the problems associated with smoking,” said Bowen in the video. “I would tell people, anyone who would listen, ’50 years from now no one will smoke cigarettes, they’re going to look back and think ‘Oh my God, I can’t believe people used to do that.” And now I think that’s actually going to happen much faster. In large part because of the progress that we’ve made.”

source https://techcrunch.com/2019/02/27/this-is-the-stanford-thesis-presentation-that-launched-juul/