#it was sixty years ago today

[javelinbk]

Happy 60th anniversary to... this...

The Beatles (minus Ringo) and Jimmie Nicol at their press conference in Adelaide, 12th June 1964 - part 1 (part 2, part 3)

[babsi-and-stella]

Marianne Faithfull and Roy Orbison photographed by Arthur Sidey, February 1965.

[elizacobbs]

60 years ago today The Beatles appeared on The Ed Sullivan show to an audience of 73 million Americans. Little did they know that they'd sweep the nation off it's feet with their rockin tunes and make history as the greatest band of all time.

[cleolinda]

Phone scam gothic

So my mom sits down and starts telling me about two weird-ass phone calls she had today—she was returning a missed call, and the woman who answered just… sobbed for a minute. I’m sitting here asking, like, a whole minute? Nothing else, just sobbing? Who did you THINK you were calling back?

“United Healthcare, they have my Medicare plan. They’ve been calling me for weeks without leaving any voicemail.”

(Are you sure it was United Healthcare? “It was the same number that’s on my card, I checked, and that’s who the caller ID said it was.”)

Are you sure it was a whole minute? Did YOU say anything?

“Yes, like sixty seconds while I kept going ‘Hello? Hello?’ It sounded like she was having a nervous breakdown, I kept waiting to see if she’d tell me what was even wrong. Finally I just hung up.”

And then my mom turned right around and called back again, because she was gonna get to the bottom of this.

This time she got a different woman, perfectly calm, who wanted to set up “your in-home direct patient care home health visit.”

At this point (at this point?) I’m staring, because no one here currently has anyone coming to the house to help with any kind of medical care. My mom might honestly be the healthiest member of the household, but even I don’t use any home services, herniated discs and all. “Did they have you… confused with someone else?”

“No, she repeated my full name and phone number back to me.”

This lady then started ARGUING with my mother. Why don’t you want us to come to your house to manage your direct patient care? Don’t you need home health care to be managed? Why don’t you need home health care? Why would you not want home health care? “I JUST KIND OF HAVE HIGH CHOLESTEROL?” But don’t you want us to manage your home health care? “WHY DO YOU NEED TO COME TO MY HOUSE TO MANAGE HEALTH CARE I DON’T USE?”

My mom finally hung up on this lady as well, without giving her any real information.

The more we talked about it, the more things we started to notice:

I was incredibly creeped out by the unsolicited use of the word “manage,” for some reason. Very sinister “write me into your will” vibes for some reason—I don’t know what these people want, but they’re gonna get you to sign something over.

My mom got especially stuck on “WHY DO YOU NEED TO COME TO MY HOUSE?!”

My mom has used home health services before… years ago, before she was on Medicare. But this company wouldn’t know about that. However, if you’re on Medicare, you’re over 65. Having not ever dealt with my mother before, someone calling a Medicare user might be playing the odds that a person over 65 is 1) in frail health and 2) old enough to get easily confused.

Fair play to my mom, she’s the one who thought of number spoofing. I’m so busy not answering the phone ever and arranging all my medical communications to happen through passworded portals that I didn’t think of it.

Hey, are you guys, like… holding someone hostage…?

So at this point, I google “United Healthcare scam.”

The “health insurance counselor”

This fraudster will offer help navigating the health insurance marketplace for a fee, capitalizing on people’s confusion about the state-based health exchanges created through the Affordable Care Act.

What to know

This sort of assistance is indeed available and is legitimate, but the people who offer it – also known as “navigators” – aren’t allowed to charge for their services. Also, remember that people with Medicare coverage don’t need to use the state health exchanges. The exchanges are for people under the age of 65, who are looking to enroll in an individual health plan.

Change “navigate” to “manage,” and I think this is it, although the lady on the phone never mentioned any fees. Either my mom didn’t let her get that far, or this is the point of actually getting into someone’s house: persuading them face-to-face to pay something, and potentially refusing to leave until the scammer has worn their target down.

Medicare does not make unsolicited phone calls.

Okay, so it was a scam no matter what it was about. As far as I’m concerned, my mom should contact Actual United Healthcare about it, and I’m here to spread the good word of Never Believing Anyone on the Phone 2k24. I don’t know what to tell you about the lady having the nervous breakdown though.

[jakubrozalski]

'Zygmunt and Zośka'

Ewka joined the "Zośka" battalion before the outbreak of the uprising, together with her beloved Tomasz. She met Tomek in the Grey Ranks two years ago, they participated in many reconnaissance and sabotage missions together.  They both welcomed information about the planned uprising with excitement and euphoria. Those moments seem so distant now... The uprising has been going on for a month now...  Tomek is gone. All she has left are memories of long walks by the Vistula and those short moments together when they felt free and happy, despite the horror surrounding them. Now, with a Colt M1911 in her hand, which she received from one of the "Cichociemny" fighting in the Old Town, she is waiting for the Germans assault, leaning on Zygmunt statue, her last sanctuary, last support. They will both fall today, the old king Zygmunt and brave Ewa from the Zośka battalion. -

Exactly 80 years ago, 1 August 1944 at 5:00 p.m. the Warsaw Uprising broke out. The Uprising was supposed to last a few days at most, but it did last sixty-three days and claimed hundreds of thousands of lives. Directly, of course, it was aimed to liberate Warsaw from the occupation of the falling German Reich, but indirectly and politically (as part of Operation 'Burza') was aimed against the USSR and Stalin's plans. This was also one of the reasons for its calamity and the help ( of the Red Army ) that never came. It was definitely too optimistic for the Polish underground resistance command to count on any help from Stalin, whose plans concerning Poland were known and who, as a vindictive and unforgiving person - in my personal opinion - certainly wanted to take revenge for the 1920 and his personal defeat.

There is no doubt, however, that it was an uprising of brave young women and men, full of high ideals, passion and dreams of a free homeland, who wanted to feel a little freedom, self-agency and relief, but also to take revenge after 5 years of terror and occupation. Very tragic and beautiful at the same time. It is to them that I wanted to pay tribute and honor their memory. 

I also observe with great concern and sadness what is happening in the world currently. Not even 100 years have passed since the apocalypse of WWII and the world is again full of divisions, tension, polarization, violence and hatred... For this reason I believe it is worth remembering and reminding about history, to try to stop it from repeating itself, over and over again...  Honor and glory to the heroes who fought for freedom and higher values ​​against evil. Work process: https://jrozalski.com/projects/QKmkRd

[madamechrissy]

Keep This Low Key

💜 Pairings: Choso x F!reader- and Gojo x reader- Rating: Explicit- MDNI

💜 Contents/Warnings: Remember this is a slow burn. You'll hate Cho in this and reader lol. In this chapter, blow jobs, sixty nine, kissing, fingering and play. Jealous angst. Warning- the reader and Choso are with other ppl (intimately- reader w/Gojo in this chap- cho w/Amber) They're idiots. Plz don't read if upset about this kind of thing, Cho and reader are NOT dating but still. HEAVY ANGST this chap like I cried writing it.

💜 Word Count: this chap - 10.8k (longest so far!)

💜 Summary: You have been Choso's best friend for years, and one night he has a date with Yuki, his girlfriend, while you have a date with Ino, your boyfriend, only for them both to break up with you at the same time! You all think of calling each other, but run right into each other. Choso brings you home since you didn't even have your car, and you two are crying over a couple beers and a silly movie, only to have a sudden idea. Why not say fuck dating, fuck heartbreak, and just fuck each other?

No drama, no mess, no upset, and you two are such good friends, nothing can go wrong, right? The only agreement is no feelings, and if you all find a s/o, you'll end things. But the moment Choso opens his heart to you, and the moment you start falling, things get messy, as you realize he's the best you've had, and you're falling hard. Will you all stay friends, become more, or will everything blow up?

✨️Comments and reblogs appreciated if you enjoy ✨️

Chapter Three 💜 Masterlist 💜 Playlist 💜

Chapter Four

Choso’s POV

Choso and you are out shopping at the mall, it’s been so long since you all have done this, used to be a frequent occurrence for you. You both walk into Hot Topic, you giggle at the memories in the dark store with the blaring emo music, fingers brushing against a black anime shirt as Choso starts looking at some of the black spiky bracelets on the racks.

“God, too many memories here.” He muses, looking at you with a little smile, you’re so pretty today, you’re just in some ripped jeans and a band tee, his band on you, more like how he remembers you. Though Choso adores each and every version of you over the many years, something is so sweet when you’re comfortable and casual with him like this.

“A lot of memories.” You agree, bending over then, those jeans are tight and form fitting, and the sight of your ass like this?

After he’d literally edged you a week ago, you all had done nothing but hang out, the entire time he’s constantly dying to taste you again, to touch you, but it seemed like you weren’t backing down, and neither was he. He feels horrible that you saw that kiss, the kiss that happened because the thought of you with Gojo had him feeling so petty, so stupid.

Now to think you saw him? How did it make you feel? How did Gojo make you feel, having left a bruise on your pretty neck, how did you like kissing him? The thoughts are destroying him, it’s as if you won’t leave his head, leave his every dream, he can practically taste you in his memories on his tongue. Like some drug he’s now addicted to but can’t have.

And you’re right there, but not there. You’re a little distant, and it breaks him, it confuses him, did you not want him anymore? Was Gojo in your head like high school, should he protect his heart? A million questions enter Choso’s already scattered brain while studying your delicate features, your pretty face that won’t leave his brain for even a second.

Sleeping with you had made every feeling from high school come back with a vengeance, and knowing Gojo is in the picture is torture, it’s as if you’re just out of reach, and now he knows that he hurt you too. After you all slept together and you had run, he’d been so upset, so worried about it, and you must have thought he had just dismissed what happened.

Choso jerked off before even coming to get you today, he’d hoped it would give him just a little clarity, but you fuck his mind up any which way. Just inhaling your scent when you hug him, that fruity shampoo you use, whatever body spray it is you’ve used since school days, takes over his senses, whatever he has left of them. Just feeling your warm body, your soft skin.

You walk up to him now, brushing against him, looking at the bracelets he’s completely forgotten about. “Those are so cool! You should get em, Cho bear.”

“You think so?” You nod, and he hums to himself, peeking over at them and snatching them up. “If you like them.”

“I do! Ugh we spent so much time here, oh and Spencers! We should go there next.” You giggle, the sound so pleasing to his ears, especially since you’ve been a little quiet and distant this week. He looks down at you, your eyes are glittering, you’re biting your lower lip.

“We will. What about this shirt, isn’t that your anime husbando?” You laugh at that, nodding. “Grab that one then. Oh, this skirt…”

“It’s too short!”

“Could wear it around me.” He says before he thinks better, and watches you blush all over as you do, down your neck and even your chest, while he holds up the little pink plaid skirt with chains.

“Wear it around you, why?” You finger the material, shyly looking down, Choso steps closer, leaning down and grabbing your hip, you suck in a breath, and he feels your body tense.

“Why wouldn’t I wanna see you in that? Die to see your pretty legs in it-” His phone starts ringing now, making him take a breath and a step back, you curiously look at it, lips tensing just a bit.

“Ah, is that the girlfriend?” You ask, putting the skirt on the wrack and turning away from him.

“I don’t have a girlfriend.” He wants you as his girlfriend, god it’s not even a good enough word for what he really wants, but how does he even say it!? How can he ruin you being in his life, what if he’s not ‘manly’ enough for you, too? What if he’s not good enough!?

He gulps down his words as you turn back and look at it, ringing again. “Well you can answer it, I’m just your friend remember, no biggie.” Your words make him sick to his stomach, churning all around, sure it’s true but…

Fuck, it hurts.

He doesn’t even care for this girl either way, she’s some distraction, and she’s overtly distracting him. She’s a huge fan of his band and has been, so she’s quite annoyingly persistent. She’s sweet and very pretty, but god just look at you, at how beautiful you are just existing near him, in his orbit, pulling him in with that gravity you’re clueless of.

Having pushed you in the dark recesses of his mind for so long and forcing himself to see you as a best friend had been so difficult, but since your intimacy it’s become impossible. It’s as if you both opened some can of worms you really should not have, but now he’s dying to do it again, again, again.

He wants you to cum all over his cock again, fuck especially without the protection, so insane it had felt, the only time he had done so. He wants to fill you up full of his cum, watch it ooze out of your perfect little cunt, just to put more loads inside of you. You do something to him Yuki never did, no one ever has, it’s things he didn’t even know he craved.

“Cho, it’s three calls, answer.” You sound irritated then, Choso sighs.

“It’s rude.”

“It’s not, go ahead.” Choso steps out now, taking a breath of air and entering the busy mall right outside of the open Hot Topic doors.

“Hello?” He asks, he hopes he doesn’t sound rude, but he’s annoyed that she’s called so much.

“Choso! Oh my god, listen, I have such a good gig for you all. I just had to tell you!” Amber says, oh yeah that’s her name… Choso forgets, it seems the only name ingrained in his mind is yours now.

“Oh shit, what is it?” He asks, he’s excited for such an opportunity, Amber has a lot of connections as well, but he is looking at you as you’re making purchases, curious what you got yourself. The cashier is making eyes at you, but who wouldn’t?

“It’s at a huge venue for the rockfest coming up! They said they’d love to have you, but you will have to come meet them so we can register and prep. Are you down this afternoon?” Choso pauses, he’d promised you the day together, you both had wanted to do the mall, food and hit the movies.

But the rockfest is huge and the biggest event there is for discovering new rock bands, with heavy hitters everywhere. He’s absolutely sure Megumi and Yuji will lose their minds when he tells them. “That’s an insane opportunity, you don’t have to do all of this you know.”

“Of course I do, I believe in you. Also, I’d love to see you again.” Her voice drops a suggestive octave, you come out with a little smile now, standing next to him and poking around on your phone.

“Yeah, I’ll definitely be there. Can you shoot me a text with what time and where?”

“Sure thing, love. See you soon!” She hangs up now, and you frown a bit when Choso sighs.

“Everything okay?” You ask softly, a hand on his arm.

“Good news, she actually got me a gig opportunity at the rockfest coming up next week.”

“Oh my god that’s amazing!” You hug him, giggling, god you feel good against him. “I can’t wait! Listen I just bought you a bunch of bracelets and rings, you need new ones.”

You hand him the little bag to open, full of far too many of them, making him melt from such a cute gesture, you always do this when you two go shopping.  “No, don’t buy things for me!”

“They’re all cheap, silly.”

“But you didn’t get yourself anything.” He peers in the bag, you apparently decided against that skirt that would look so sexy on you. You usually don’t get yourself anything do you? You shrug a shoulder, smiling a bit.

“I’m good, Cho. I didn’t see anything that I needed. Um… ooh Spencers though, is that our next adventure? Oh my God, remember the adult section the first time we snuck in?” You ask, whispering conspiratorially, he laughs then, as the text pops up, and he sees he needs to be there in two hours.

“Shit, so the meeting is in two hours though.” You blink a bit.

“With your… blond friend?”

“Amber, yeah.”

“Amber.” You murmur. “Oh then… I guess get me home so you can get ready.” You start heading away, and Choso grabs your arm then.

“No, we can hit at least one more store!”

“No, you need to get dressed, get there… I definitely don’t want to delay a big opportunity for something-” His phone goes off again, and it’s a selfie of Amber, sticking her tongue out and in a bustier that hides nothing, saying she can’t wait to see him, and he watches your face fall as your eyes hit the screen.

“I don’t know why she’s sending selfies, it really is for the band I-”

“No need to explain. It’s cool.” You walk further, and he senses it, you’re upset, and what do you do when upset?

Run from him.

Choso catches up with you, his hand grabbing yours, and you stare at it for a moment, before looking back up at him, emotion making your eyes glassy, breaking his heart then, his chest feels like something is squeezing it, his throat closing up. But what you say and how you look at him don’t match, they don’t compute, and he doesn’t know how you feel.

“Come with me then! I would love it if you were there, and we can still spend the day.” He offers, but you gently pull your little hand out of his grip, walking out of the doors now, heading toward where he parked.

“No, it’s important shit. And she’d like you to herself I am sure, sounds… awkward I don’t know, spending time with you and her.” Choso runs to open the passenger door before you can touch the handle. “Thanks, Cho.”

The ride is quiet, far too fucking quiet, and when he puts a hand on your thigh over the denim, you just stare out the window quietly. There’s music playing but all he can hear is his heart racing, worrying he’s messed something up again, worrying about you and your feelings, confused and feeling like he just doesn’t know what the fuck he’s really doing.

“Am I fucking up our friendship?” He asks, and you look at him then, hand coming on top of his, exhaling.

“No, never. I’m sorry, I’ve been a little in my head.” He nods, looking at the road, feeling your fingers brush his knuckles, he nears your home which is spo close by, he’s been here a million times, it’s like clockwork to go there.

“We can always talk, you know.” He says, you just nod a bit, putting on a fake smile, he knows it’s fake, because that genuine one you just had at the mall has now completely vanished.

“It’s just in my head I think, my… thoughts.” After some more quiet, you both pull up. He tilts his head, leaning close as you unsnap your seatbelt.

“I’m always here. I’ll make it up to you, we can go out tonight to grab a bite to eat you think?”

“I’m sure she’ll want to. Don’t worry.” Your face is tight, your voice quiet,

“But I want to spend time with you. I miss you.”

“Cho, we just spent time…”

“I miss you.” He says again, you falter, when he leans close, cupping your face in his big tattooed hand, thumb brushing on your jaw.

“You want a good luck blowjob huh.” You tease, but your words are serious, he can feel them.

“A good luck kiss, only if you want to.” He murmurs, eyeing your plump lower lip, glossy as you run your tongue across them.

“You wanna kiss me?” He wants to laugh at that, how the fuck do you think he doesn’t always want to kiss you? Not just during sex, during any moment. “Thought it was just when we want to fuck.”

“Well do you even want to kiss me?”

“Of course I do.” You rest your forehead against his, leaning close, your noses just barely touching. “I’m aching for you.”

“Then why the distance?” His eyes lock on yours, pulling back, trying to study your beautiful face for some clue.

“I just thought I was being too much, and how you left things…”

“I’m sorry, I was being an ass. Edging your perfect pussy that way.” You exhale, leaning further, as his hand slips up your thigh, gripping your ass, pulling you further towards him, you let out this sexy little cry. “Let me make it up to you tonight, please… I’ll make you feel so good.”

“If we kiss and don’t… aren’t we breaking a rule?” You ask, and he wonders at these idiotic rules, were they so he didn’t fall for you?

They were failing.

“A prelude to tonight then.”

“You can kiss Amber though.” He scowls now. “I don’t mean it in a bad way, I’d love to kiss you, I love your lips, that tongue ring.” Your little fingers drift across them. “But just being honest, especially after that picture, she’s pretty hot you know.”

Choso glares more, tilting your chin up to look at him, as the car softly hums and he’s pressing you against him as much as he can in his little car. “I asked if I could get a kiss from you. You. Not her.”

You lean up, brushing your lips against his gently, pulling back and then leaning in again, another sweet brush, that destroys him then, his mind turns to complete mush as he feels the sensation of your lips. He exhales, dragging you onto his lap before he can think better, hands cupping your face and kissing over and over, as you press against his lap.

“Fuck you taste so good.” He murmurs, sweet like some sort of cherries, you whine out now, straddling him in tight jeans, your heat pressing against his clothed cock, making his cock strain from just that.

“Cho…” You whimper now, rolling your hips, kissing him messier, more desperate now, tongue all sloppy as you play with his hair with teasing fingers. Choso’s hands find purchase against the nip at your waist, pressing into your ribcage and earning a little sigh of pleasure when he gently presses you down more. “Mnh.”

“Lemme get you off, please.” You shake your head, taking a breath and leaning back.

“It’s fine, I’m fine- ah!” Choso’s grinding you against him, tip of him pressing against your folds, watching your eyes roll back, hair falling like a curtain as your back arches, he slides up your shirt, revealing a black lacy bra over your perfect tits, he begins to lavish your nipples one by one.

“Pretty titties… perfect little angel.” He watches you melt, your hands enwrapping in his long hair he wore loose today, manicured nails barely pressing against his scalp, just like when he’d drunk your juices out of your pussy last week.

“Please.” Is all you manage to whisper, Choso eagerly grinds you more against him, your breath catching, hot sticky wetness gathering on your panties when his fingers slip under the waistband of your jeans, he groans as he feels you. “Please, Cho… need you.”

“I need you to cum for me.” He presses his thumb on your clit, feeling your damn and sticky underwear, your slick drooling, he watches as your eyes dilate, and you keep grinding on his hard cock, that’s desperate to slide inside you.

His phone rings as you’re kissing him again, and he goes to turn it off on his car screen, only for Amber’s voice to ring out in the car, making you halt. “Cho, did you get the address love?”

You freeze now, he watches everything shift as you do, you quickly hop off his lap, zipping yourself up with shaky hands. “Yes I have it, Amber I’m busy-”

“You’re not busy.” You whisper, and Choso’s mouth drops open when you rush out of the car, he gets out and follows you right to your porch, you turn and shake your head with a fake smile. “Go, Cho. Tell me how it goes.”

“Will you stop running!? All the time!” He grabs your shoulders, and you can still hear her voice from the car, looking at it and then back at him.

“You’re confusing me. You say one thing and do another.”

“What!? What do you even mean?”

“You’re clearly very close, love, getting damn near naked pics, calling you three times in a row, then calling again?”

Choso scowls now. “And you and Gojo?”

You snort, rolling your eyes. “I haven’t talked to him since you edged me last week, I thought you were mad, I thought you… wanted me… to…”

You’re tearing up now, breaking Choso into pieces as he watches you, so fragile. He tries to cup your face but you push him away, sniffling now. “Please, please don’t cry, just talk to me. I thought you were still talking to him?”

“No! Because I thought you were wanting to be more. But I’m a fucking idiot oh my god. I’m just some fun distraction.”

“What do you mean, I thought you wanted just friends? You-”

“And we will be just friends. I won’t do that again.” You swipe at your eyes, and Choso’s heart breaks as it beats even.

“You’re always confusing me-”

“No, no it’s you who is confusing this. Acting like you think I’m so beautiful, making me feel that way, special. You shouldn’t do that to casual fucks.”

“You are beautiful, so beautiful god why can’t you see this? You are special, more special than almost anyone in my life. I don’t know how you think you’re not. Fuck this let me push this off-”

“No. It’s important. Even if I’m upset I’d never put your music off.” You take a shaky breath, kissing his cheek. “Amber’s upset. Go, and good luck.”

“Please, angel-” You shut the door quickly, rushing in your home, Choso’s hand is pressed on the door, leaning his head on it. “Please, let me in, let me talk to you. You’re wrong, I swear you are.”

You say nothing, Choso tries to knock, feeling emotions catch in his throat, but you say nothing, he can faintly hear a cry from there, pushing him to feel even worse. You weren’t even talking to Gojo!? And here he was, he’s been texting and calling Amber this entire time, but you…

“Please. Just talk to me, or I won’t go.” You open the door, tears streaking your cheeks.

“You’re being petty.”

“Yeah, I am.” He swipes the emotion from his eyes.

“Go, I want you to, I’m f-fine. I just… I thought we… just go.” Choso steps in, cupping your face again, thumbs brushing the apples of your cheeks. “Don’t do that, don’t look like that at me. We are only friends.”

Choso scoffs now. “I want you to cum on my face, on my cock, I want you moaning and writhing under me.” He presses you against the doorway, feels your desire with your every breath, but you shake your head, pushing on him.

“It hurts too much. I thought I could, but I can’t separate it. It’s too much for me, the desire… the feelings.” Your voice is barely above a whisper.

Choso blinks in surprise. Could you possibly have some feelings for him!? Was it more than… “Feelings?”

“Cho, go. I’ll be fine.” You kiss his cheek now, how you used to, Choso gulps down the emotions.

“I can’t leave you like this.”

“I’m your friend. That’s it. We’ll do food and movies another day, yeah?” You gently push him out your door, smiling tremulously. “I think I’m PMSing, I don't know. I’m cool if you talk to her, fuck her whatever. Just tell me I guess.”

“Fuck her?”

“It’s cool, I swear. Go kill it, Cho bear.” You shut your door, he hears your lock click this time, your steps echoing.

He feels like a part of him is ripped in half in your absence, driving with no music, your sweet scent lingering in his car, your tears lingering in his mind. He had you in his lap, on his lips, isn't this what you both wanted, to have sex with no complications… but there are more and more complications every moment. And he left you there, to cry, sure you told him to leave, but this gnawing instinct makes him wish he had stayed.

Your POV

You see Cho and Amber on Instagram a couple hours later, with two huge Rockstars from popular bands that are running the show. You want to be so happy for him, and sure you are, but his hand on Amber's waist makes you ill, the way her hand is on his chest!? You can't stomach it.

You keep checking, wondering if Choso would message you. Call you. But the only messages are from Utahime and Satoru Gojo, who you've ignored ALL fucking week, waiting on Cho to make a move, only for him to have been clearly talking to this girl very regularly.

Sweet Cho Bear may be great as a friend and superb at fucking, but he seems to be the worst thing that could have happened to your mind. The way he so casually hurts you and puts you second is damn near debilitating, you’re tired of crying in your bed over him, when he was once the one who would comfort you, who would hold you while you cried over a boy.

Now Cho is that boy, and you're a whole idiot. You still can’t even process exactly what it is you’re feeling, was it just how good Choso made you feel? Is that all this was, a confusion from lack of experience, and his stupidly good skills? Or is it the moment you kiss him, and want nothing more than to lose yourself in him, when you feel his heartbeat against you…

When you call Utahime back on Facetime, she gasps when she sees you in tears. “Was it Gojo? Imma kill him.”

“No, no… it’s Cho.”

“Choso, what’d that sweet boy do!?”

“Ugh.” You take a breath, setting Utahime down on your dresser, deciding to start putting on makeup to hide your tired eyes and tear streaked face. “He’s got this girl, Amber, I saw them kiss.”

“Shit… but you all are friends with benefits not…”

“Yeah, I know. But ‘Hime, I felt so special, the way he looks at me.” You’re sniffling, and then you peek at Amber’s IG, poking around, jaw setting when on her Instagram she’s kissing Choso’s cheek. “Look at this.”

You send it to her, Utahime’s eyes narrow. “Okay no, that’s… I thought he didn’t wanna date? Wasn’t that the point?”

“Right, nothing serious. But she called him four times in one outing, fuck she came through the car bluetooth and cockblocked me.”

“Shit. Babe maybe no more sex, before you ruin your friendship, I’d hate you two not being friends.”

“I know, I know. I told him no more, I don’t think he got it though, he seems to say one thing and do another, and I’m just tired. And as for Gojo, I blew him off all week because I misread what Choso meant.”

“Well it’s still fuck Gojo till it’s backwards- and I don’t mean actually fuck him.” You snort.

“You just hate him.”

“Sure do.”

“But I’m feeling petty, and horny. And mad as fuck. Am I immature?” Utahime sighs.

“You and Choso both are naive little babies I think. Have you tried telling him how you feel?”

“He doesn’t feel that way, clearly. Look.” You send another pic now, one that Choso and Amber are tagged in, with the group of people preparing press for the show, Choso looks so fucking good, despite the girl clinging to him.

“Ah. Babe if you fuck Gojo I’ll come smack you I know this hurts but…”

“I’m not gonna fuck him, ‘Hime. Just maybe hang out and take an Insta pic and post it.” She smirks as you do.

“You petty ass bitch.”

“Bitch!”

“Fine. You have my blessing to be petty, but no dick.”

“Yes mommy.” You feel so much better, sighing. “Come see me when you get in tomorrow, please!”

“I will. Love you.” You disconnect the phone, peering at it to see if Choso has said any fucking thing to you, but you imagine he’s busy. He posts about the event, tagging Yuji and Megumi.

Nice to know the support you’ve always given him isn’t shit compared to a new pretty fan with connections. You yank off his band shirt, throwing it across the room, when Satoru’s text comes in.

Jock Gojo- you can’t stay angry at me I’m too pretty.

You find yourself giggling, rolling your eyes.

You- I’m not even angry, just had a lot on my mind.

Jock Gojo- Let me fuck your brains out then?

You- Nvm fuck you actually.

Jock Gojo- You’re punishing me :’( for being a dick on prom.

You snap off your bra, giggling a bit when he calls.

“What’s up?” You ask, popping him on speaker.

“Thinking about this mean girl, she was a nerd goodie goodie. She has a really nice ass…”

“Stop it!” You burst out laughing, slipping off your jeans now.

“Whatchya wearing?”

“Just panties right now.” You hear him exhale.

“You’re trying to kill me.” The flattery is getting you, especially feeling so damn inadequate with Choso right now.

“I am sorry I blew you off, it wasn’t you though. Do you wanna… I don’t know, catch up?” You’re digging through your closet now, tilting your head as you peer at the bevy of dresses you’ve bought for when you were with Ino.

“I’d love that. Are you free tonight? We can grab something to eat, see a movie… I dunno whatever you want. You can suck my dick in the theater!?” You snort again at him, rolling your eyes.

“You’re ridiculous, Satoru. But… yeah I’m down to go out. A movie doesn’t sound bad at all.” That’s what you and Choso were supposed to do, see the new Star Wars movie that’s out.

“It’s a date then. Wear something easy-access.”

“Oh whatever, you’re so dumb.” He laughs softly, the sound is always pleasing, Satoru’s voice is pleasing altogether with its deep timbre. “What time?”

“Well what movies are out?”

“Star Wars!”

“Nerdy ass. Fine.” You giggle now.

“I was supposed to go with Cho but he’s… got this girl and also a whole gig going for the band. We can see something else though?”

“I don’t mind. Alright I’ll pick you up in an hour?”

“Sure.” You both hang up, you keep looking through your wardrobe until you come upon a cute plaid skirt, similar to what Choso wanted you to buy, but this hit mid thigh versus exposing all of your ass.

The thoughts make your cheeks heat up, then your tummy clench, how he’d just been kissing you, touching you. For him, you suppose, he truly could be a friend with benefits, but you fail at it completely, and though you certainly don’t plan on fucking Gojo, you’re curious at things.

Could you feel good with someone else?

“Hey sweets… I need all this candy.” You and Satoru are checking into the movie, his hand resting at your waist.

“They overprice the candy!”

“I’m rich, I don’t care.” Satoru buys a copious amount of candy and then two giant slushies, amusing the fuck out of you.

“Is one for me?” You ask teasingly.

“No way.” He hands you a slushie and you have to admit you feel a little giddy and excited, which is lovely after feeling so down earlier. Satoru is basically a big damn kid and his energy is infectious. You’re shoving thoughts of Choso way down when Satoru nudges you as you all walk toward the theater.

You take a sip of your slushie, looking at him curiously. “What?”

“Your friend, yeah?” You blink and see him then, holding hands with her, in line to check in for a movie at the opposite side of the theater.

So…

Choso blew you off, didn’t see a movie with you and is instead with Amber, and isn’t even seeing Star Wars!??!

“Hey buddy!”

“Satoru no…” You hiss but he’s waving with a box of candy. Choso looks at him curiously, then at you, his jaw tensing, Amber bounces over, looking at Satoru and then you with a pretty grin.

“Oh damn, I guess I don’t have to worry about you, dating this hottie.” She clings to Choso and winks at Satoru, you feel sick to your fucking stomach, the one gulp of that drink you took making you want to now vomit.

“We’re not dating yet, she’s mean to me. And she’s a nerd and was dying to see Star Wars. You now pew pew pew.” Satoru starts acting like his candy is a lightsaber, you’d be laughing if you didn’t wanna punch your own friend in the face.

“Can we talk for a minute?” Choso asks, and you shrug, stepping aside and touching Satoru on the shoulder gently, earning Choso’s anger directed right at you.

“Be back?”

“Sure thing.” Satoru says.

Choso and you step aside just a bit, laugh without humor. “You’re not even seeing it? Even if you didn’t wanna go with me, you are seriously missing it altogether?” You ask quietly, and Choso shakes his head quickly, glaring over at Gojo.

“You said you didn’t want to go out tonight, remember? I wanted to go with you after.” His words are soft, as Satoru and Amber start giggling about something.

“Because it’d apparently be me as a third wheel. Damn.” You scoff, and Choso steps up to you closer, his violet eyes glossy with worry.

“I thought you were done with-”

“Yeah the Instagram pictures made me realize maybe I need to move on from whatever the fuck this is.” You hiss the words quietly, Choso steps back, hurt clear on his face.

“I wrote you.”

“You didn’t-”

“I did!”

You pull out your phone, seeing his several texts now, but you were so mad you put him on mute. You gulp, scrolling through as he repeatedly asks you out to eat, as he asks if you’re home, as he asks if you’re upset with him. You see sad emojis and heart emojis and ‘angel’ please messages, making you feel a pit in your stomach, but where had these been all day?

“Ah, well I didn’t see, but whatever. Have fun.” You turn to step away, and Choso gently touches your hand.

“You’re mad when you’re here with him?” He asks, and it’s your turn to narrow your eyes at him.

“I blew him off a week for some dumb idea that maybe you wanted to date.” You whisper, and he blinks, opening his mouth, but you hold up your hand. “This was a huge mistake, though you’re a great friend, I can’t just fuck you, I felt too much.”

“You think I don’t feel things for you? You think you aren’t in my mind?” He leans low, and you step back to breathe.

“If we want to stay friends we can never do it again.” Choso’s eyes get wide, you watch his lip tremble just slightly.

“Do you not want me anymore?” He asks, and you shake your head, disbelieving he can’t notice what he does to you when he’s touching you.

“I wanted you too much. I was stupid, not you, you’re great at it, at sex… at being unaffected, nonchalant. At doing your thing. I am the one that couldn’t do it. So we should forget it all, every bit.” You hate the words spilling from your lips, but you know they’re necessary.

“Forget it?” You nod now, trembling as you stand there, your heart pounding out of your damn chest. “How can I forget you in that way, your taste, your lips on mine… your body? How your back arches as I’m making you cum?”

His words make your mind flit with images, you shake your head, shutting your eyes and pushing them away as much as you can. God just with words he fucked you up. “You’d had to forget it when you and Amber fuck anyway, so work on it.” Choso gasps softly, his handsome face falling.

“So it meant nothing.” Choso’s words are broken, but it’s just not fair to say it like that, it’s not fair to do this to your heart, you know him and have known him, so you know it’s not intentional. But it doesn’t make it hurt less.

“It meant too much.” You step away then, putting on a little smile, walking back to Gojo and putting your arm in his as you look at Amber, who’s clinging to Choso when he walks back up. “I hope you guys have fun, can’t wait for the concert.”

“You should bring him!” She pokes at Gojo with a giggle.

“I think I will.” Choso glares at you, the look of fucking death, and you get some small satisfaction that you shouldn’t.

You’re done being dickmatized by your best friend, you’re done falling for him so fast and so hard, you’re done with all the feelings that have been driving you since Senior year of high school pooling at once. When he’d let you know so casually he was in love with Yuki, and if he’d wanted you all this time, why did he never make a move?

“Sounds good man I love to see ya play.” Satoru is so unbothered, you wish you could have a teeny bit of that yourself.

“Appreciate it. Have fun, angel.” He says to you now, right in front of both of them in a soft tone, you catch his eyes and feel every emotion, you feel the weight of such simple words, like he’s claiming you his, like he’s telling you so much more without saying it truly.

“Have fun Cho bear.” You say with a bright smile, so fake, and you can tell he knows it’s fake by his frown, but Amber is tugging him away.

“So… he was the fuck buddy.”

“Satoru!” You smack at him, he just smirks, shaking his head.

“It’s obvious.”

You sigh, handing the usher your tickets as you and Choso walk your separate ways, as you always have you suppose, it was foolish to think so much would change from a couple of experiences. He was so in love with Yuki he was about to buy her a fucking ring, of course he was upset that night, and it had been you who brought it up, not him.

You caused this.

“I’m sorry maybe I should’ve told you?”

“Nah, we’re on date number two, and I told you I have regulars. Not that I’ve been with them all week.” You raise your brows in surprise, Satoru pops down in the theater, with big recliner seats, you both settle in and ease back.

“Oh? Actually, me either.” Satoru slurps on his drink, sticking out his tongue now and making you laugh softly as the lights dim.

“Blue! Like my balls after our date.”

“Oh god.” You shake your head, and you picture it, Choso next to you so fucking excited, the both of you have seen every single Star Wars movie absolutely ever, this was the first he’s missing.

You can’t even be mad at him, Amber is pretty, clingy and not in a friend zone like you. If you both were meant to be, wouldn’t you have by now? But your mind drifts to him, missing him though you’ve seen him all day, but it’s Satoru Gojo sitting next to you, annoyingly whispering every time a character pops up, asking who the hell any of them are.

But it’s not annoying then, it’s nice. You could be alone, and not with a handsome, tall white haired little shit, your first kiss. Satoru could have been your first everything, but of course you weren’t ready back then. He has a big hand on your bare thigh, thumb brushing against your skin in little circles, as he’s popping candy into his mouth, making you wonder at his metabolism.

“Who’s that!? Is that yoda?” You giggle quietly, leaning on him.

“Grogu. It’s like a baby yoda.”

“It’s cute! I want one.” You nod in agreement.

“So cute, right? He’s actually old though.”

“Explain, I’m so interested.” His fingers slide higher, making you tremble now, you take several breaths, as they dance against your skin, leaving goosebumps everywhere he touches.

“Are you now?” You find yourself leaning against him, kissing a little trail up his cheek and ear, his fingertips press into the plush of your thigh as you do, that little shitty guilty feeling gnawing at even that.

And why?

You and Choso were friends and you yourself had said ‘no attachments, no emotions, no drama’ and couldn’t make it past three times fucking him (and two ridiculous times of him eating you out… fuck it makes you clench thinking of it) and you caught feelings. It’s pathetic that it happened so fast for you, but how could someone not fall for Choso Kamo? He certainly doesn’t even comprehend the effects he has on people.

“Mmm…” Satoru’s little breathy cry does something to you, as do his fingers brushing higher when you nip on his earlobe, before turning your eyes back to the movie and holding his hand. “Fuck.”

He leans to you now, kissing a trail up your neck, you all are not surrounded by anyone at all where you are and hidden mostly in the recliners, you let your eyes flutter shut when he kisses your neck, when his tongue laps out at your skin, and he’s slipping the hand up further. You’ve been edged twice this week, you can’t help but shift your hips closer.

Satoru kisses you lazy and sensually, biting your lower lip between his teeth, then lapping his tongue along it, cupping your face, you’re enjoying his kisses, the butterflies he stirs even after years. Satoru may have been an asshole back in high school, but he was a hell of a distraction right now, especially when he’s rubbing you over lacy panties.

“You’re gonna distract me from… the…” You’re trying to keep in your little cry, biting your lip when he presses on your clothed clit, finding you damp and sticky, he exhales against your ear now.

“You’re so wet, though. Need me to take care of you?” He asks, you tense then just a bit, but your body reacts, getting wetter and wetter with his practiced circles, he slips his fingers under them now, finding your bare pussy.

“Not saying so.” He laughs, kissing you again, you cry out ever so softly into his lips, hips rolling as his finger teases your entrance.

“She says so.” You lose yourself for a moment, before getting a bit of a clear head, realizing where you all are, he slips a finger inside your slick walls, you clench around the invasion of it, long and sinking deep. “Fuck you’re tight.”

“We shouldn’t here, though.” He pouts in the dark theater.

“You’re mean to her.” He sucks on his finger now, and the sight of Satoru’s pouty lips licking your arousal fucks you up, your brain short circuits for a minute. “You’re as sweet as these candies, fuck.”

“You do go on.” You kiss yourself off him now, before shifting your skirt down a bit, blushing in the darkness. “Okay I need a sec.”

“Gotta play with your pussy?”

“Shush!” You sneak past him, he’s grinning all handsome, and for a moment you think, fuck this is nice, and maybe you could forget this feeling for Choso.

Until you walk by him heading out of the bathroom.

You turn away, and he’s calling your name softly. “What?”

“Can we talk tonight, please?” He asks, standing just a little away from you, the theater is empty as everyone is nestled inside each show, just a person or two walking across.

“What’s there to talk about?” His dark brows lower.

“You really don’t ever want to again? To feel that again?” He cups your chin in his hand, tilting your gaze up to him, to your sweet best friend that currently makes your mind haywire.

“Of course I do. But it means more to me than it does to you.”

“How do you even know that? Have you asked me?”

“I can clearly see, each time we do something you have no problem being with another girl.”

“We haven’t-”

“It doesn’t matter. We won’t again, go enjoy your movie Cho bear.”

“I hurt you.” His words make you pause, you shake your head quickly. “I have hurt you, I can tell it. Written all over your beautiful fucking face.”

“Don’t say shit like that. I’m trying to get over you.” He blinks in confusion, you turn away and he follows you in the damn bathroom. “Choso, seriously, leave me the fuck alone.”

“Get over me? Get over what, being my friend?” You lean against the sink, looking at him exasperatedly.

“I’m still your friend. I always will be. It was a mistake, everything.” You hate that the tears are back.

“How was that a fucking mistake? Feeling you cum around my cock like that, drinking you up?” You whine pathetically when his hands are cupping your face, and he’s bent so low. “No way it’s normal to feel that.”

“So what, you’re saying I’m good in bed? Thanks Cho, so are you, but we can’t do it. I can’t hurt like this. Now go.”

“So you can be with Gojo?” You shove him then, you shove sweet ass Choso Kamo, your best friend, and he looks at you, shocked.

“So you can be with Amber. Funny, I couldn’t in years do shit like she could for your band. Good pick.” Choso steps back up, his hands now on your waist, big strong hands that you wonder at, how much could he throw you around if he tried, if he’d have more chances.

Hands that simultaneously drive you with need and drive you to insanity, god you wish you never knew how good it was. “I want you.”

“What, now that you see me with someone? All week you haven’t said or done shit. I’m not a game.”

“I’m not playing a game.”

“You may not know it, but you are. And my mind is the fucking victim.” Choso slams his lips on yours now, not the sweet way he kisses, no it’s brutal, it’s so different, you cry out, clinging to him, before pulling back and gasping. “I said no more of this.”

“Say it, that you don’t want me to. That you don’t feel this.” You’re shaking now, as his hand comes over yours, your eyes shut with the overwhelming sensations he’s fucking you up with, the way his big hand entwines with yours, and now your lips are tingling from him.

“It hurts too much to see you with her.”

“What do you think it’s like for me?”

“It’ll ruin us if we do it again.” Choso rests his forehead on yours. “I wanted you to choose me, just once.”

“What!?” You step away then, finally able to breathe, rushing out. “You told me to go, I wrote you-”

“Just because I said to, doesn’t mean I meant it.” You watch the hurt and confusion, making you feel like shit. “I fucked up asking you to do this. Blame me, it wasn’t your desires or ideas. Please, have fun, and forget any of this.” You put a hand on his shoulder, hating when a tear falls.

But you can’t let him keep hurting you like this, building your hopes up just to shatter them the fuck down, even if he’s so sweet he doesn’t know, or doesn’t mean to do it. You have to pull back, even as he’s trying to pull you close, and you watch him bite his lower lip.

“Let’s both leave right now.” He says huskily, you shake your head.

“It’s a terrible idea. I’ll fall more.”

“Fall? You’re…”

“Forget it, please. I don’t want to lose you in my life, but if we go any further, I won’t be able to pull back.”

“What if I don’t want you to?” You inhale and exhale, before turning away and walking back into the theater, trying to forget the hurt look on his face.

It’s not much longer that you certainly forget that sad look on his face, when you’re walking out into the chilly night and Satoru throws an expensive jacket over your shoulders. When you see Choso in his car with his head tilted back, and you worry, is he devastated, have you made a terrible decision? What if he truly did feel things for you-

Then you see Amber pop her head up, giggling.

Oh.

Oh.

She kisses Choso, he is presumably kissing his fucking cum off her lips, you feel your heart beat erratically, walking past with Satoru then, of course you have the shit luck that they parked right across from you all. Satoru comes to open the door when Choso’s eyes lock on yours, and his panicked face says everything you needed to know.

He never loved you, he never even cared, if so how could he so casually profess one thing while doing the absolute opposite? He rushes out of the car, and Satoru’s pretty blue eyes narrow a bit when he’s standing right in front of you, and you look down to see his pants unbuttoned just a bit.

You told him just friends, it appears he’s taken it seriously.

Were you some stepping stone for Choso’s hoe era?

“Your button.” You say softly, he hastily buttons it, and Satoru snorts now.

“Nice man, car blow job?”

“Can you shut the fuck up.” You glare, and Satoru’s chuckling, completely unbothered, Choso’s hands are clenching into fists.

“Gonna be mean to him? For what?”

“He left you at prom-”

“We were seventeen. It’s in the damn past. Your girl is pouting by the way, pay her some attention.” You say now, slipping into the car.

“I need to explain things to you.” He murmurs, leaning close, and you just sigh, shaking your head. “It’s not what you think, and you said just friends.”

“Yep. Just friends. Bye now, Cho bear.” You shut your door, Satoru puts an arm around you as he revs up the car, and you lean in, kissing him deeply.

“Mmm, I like petty you.” He teases, you snort, burying your face in his neck. “Can I get a car blow job too?”

“Oh drive, Gojo, jesus.” He’s laughing, pulling you against him as you all leave the parking lot, you could swear you feel his eyes on you, but you really are past fucking caring.

Maybe dick is really what you need to get over him?

Choso’s POV (A few minutes earlier)

“No, you shouldn’t…” Choso’s struggling to pull Amber off him, her mouth is latched on his neck, hand stroking his cock, visions of you flitting in his mind, of you telling him you don’t even want to be intimate again. That you made a mistake of being with him.

It makes him feel horrible, did he take advantage of you in some way!? He’s so clueless of these things, he’d tried to text you over and over before he agreed to go to this movie, and then when he saw you with Satoru!? Fuck it hurt, but he’s pushed you there, you were upset and he shouldn’t have left.

You say one thing and mean another, how can he read you, how can he understand you? How can he just go back to friendship, fuck you all were so dumb for this, completely underestimating what would be there. He kissed Amber once, and it was nothing like kissing you, her body against his and lips now are just no comparison, when he had your sweet lips.

Your moans.

Your breaths.

The way you…

Fuck now he’s thinking of your body, gorgeous, your smooth skin, every curve and line he wants to devour, all while Amber is stroking his cock. He knows you’re probably going to be with Gojo, have you already done things? He sees visions of Gojo fucking you, on your hands and knees maybe, your ass arched in the air, with his experience is he so much better?

Will you cum for him like you do Choso, will he get to drink up those juices from your perfect plump little pussy? Will he have you fingers gripping his hair, those blunt nails pressing against his scalp, your slick heat enwrapping him? Amber giggles since now Choso is completely hard, even though he’s upset, the thought of you like that makes him go insane with need.

To claim you, to make you his. But you want nothing to do with him, he’s fucked it all up somehow, and he truly doesn’t know how to make it right, how to say the words out loud that are eating him alive. How to say how much he’s falling for you, how amazing you are, how he dreams of you…

“Lemme take care of you, Choso.” Amber cooes, and Choso feels terrible, guilty as fuck, but why? You two aren’t together, now he doesn’t even get to kiss your perfect lips again. You don’t want to anymore, because of him.

You weren’t together, just friends you both said.

But you’re not just his friend.

Before he knows it, so lost in thought, Amber is undoing his pants, he pulls her hair now, earning her moan. “No, no! No, shit… sorry for pulling your hair, but… y-you can’t. Shouldn’t- mmm!”

Choso whines out and gasps when she takes his length in her mouth, swirling her tongue and humming. “Mmm, you’re fucking huge.”

“Please don’t do that, get up-ah.” She sucks so hard, he bucks up, his hand accidentally shoving her further by some stupid instinct, she’s bobbing up and down him, clearly an insane level of experience. Sucking him up like a vacuum, swallowing his cock whole down her throat, her long nails digging into his jeans, pressing against his thighs.

He leans his head back, he’s been as edged as you this week, and it does feel good, if you ignore the sinking in his stomach, when his eyes come to focus, and you’re by the car right across from him, Gojo’s jacket on your shoulder. You look right at him for a moment, and he panics, as Amber giggles, leaning up now.

“You’re the biggest guy I’ve sucked, fuck you’ll feel good in me.” Choso immediately zips up his pants, running out of the car, and when he sees you, he knows then.

Shoulders slumped down.

Eyes glossy and glittering.

Lips set in such a tense line.

He knows it, then, you won’t forgive this, in his desperation to explain, you have no care to hear, you’re so withdrawn he doesn’t even know if you’ll be his friend, and how could he blame you? Begging you to be with him, only for you to see something like that, and now you’re kissing Satoru right in front of him, knocking the wind out of his body.

He almost collapses as you drive away, numb and mindlessly going through the motions, you must think he is a liar, you must think you were right, he’d hurt you, truly hurt you. You’ve been his rock for so long, so important to him, so important to even his little brother, like family for so long, now he’s going to lose you, and now he know everything he’s losing.

Choso: Please, please it’s not what you think. Angel…

Read.

Choso: I’m so sorry, I never meant to hurt you, it wasn’t what you think, and… I think of you. I think of you constantly, always.

Nothing.

Choso: Cuss me out, do something, say something. Please, I understand if you hate me forever, but this wasn’t intentional, and I’m confused, I don’t know what we are, I don’t know what to do.

Read, and nothing.

You read each single one and say nothing in response, Choso drops Amber off with a faint good bye, he doesn’t kiss her, he barely talks to her, she’s babbling away but his heart is being ripped from his chest. If you hadn’t already done things with Gojo, surely you would now, and what if he is so much better than Choso could be?

Rich, always so fucking popular, the head of the football team, good with ladies, fuck you fawned over him, when he had it so bad for you. You would doodle Satoru Gojo and you in wedding clothes as he’d sit at study sessions, and the fear of him pushed Choso even further to lose his mind and thoughts with Amber, but now even he doesn’t know if he can forgive himself.

Not for hurting you like this.

Choso: Please, I’ll do anything, just talk to me. Just… still be my best friend, even if I want you as so much more, I’ll take it, I’ll take just that again over none of you… please.

You don’t read it, your green dot is off line, seven minutes ago.

Choso sobs into his hands, sitting on his couch, thinking of the hurt on your pretty face when you saw it, fuck did you feel unwanted? When all he wants is you, but how could you know now? How could you know that he does, when you saw that.

Did you really feel like this ‘distraction’ or a game to him? You’re more than that, so much more. As he curls into a ball and sobs, he hates himself then, why can’t he know better, do better, why can’t he just know what’s right? You should hate him after this.

He’s losing you, and he never even really had you, not in the way he wants, he craves, he needs in his soul. After a long time, he falls asleep with streaks of tears drying on his cheeks, eyes heavy and reddened and sore. He is dreaming of you, snuggling next to him, heat on his leg, your smile so sleepy and cute. Your hair is a mess, and you’re in his tee shirt.

How can he lose you like this?

Your POV

“F-Fuck, Satoru!” You’re crying out as he’s pumping two stupidly long fingers deep in your pussy, and Satour’s moaning into your mouth, you’re literally on your front porch in the middle of the evening as he’s pressing you against your door, scissoring his fingers in and out. You’re clinging to him, he’s doing it so well your mind is shut, your eyes rolled back.

“Hear her, fuck… slutty pussy.” He huffs, grabbing you rough, he’s not delicate or careful like Cho, his grip on your thigh is bruising, your hands glide down his abdomen then, finding his cock over his pants, your phone is incessantly buzzing in your purse, you know it’s Choso, but you don’t really care right now.

“Please…” You whisper out.

“Please what, pretty little slut?” He murmurs, you should be offended but you’re not, you want more of it, to feel mindless, numb, good.

“Make me cum.” You’re hastily unlocking your door now, Satoru’s hands both press against your waist as you shut the door, and he has you picked up, effortlessly, your legs wrap around his hips as you all kiss, over and over.

“Bed?” He asks, you nod barely, pointing and he’s carrying you right to it, laying you down, somewhere Choso really has never been.

Fuck can’t you get him out of your head!?

You reach down between you both, stroking Satoru’s length, he’s long and curved, your thumb brushes on precum, earning his pink lips parted, a red flush on his porcelain skin. “I was missing all this?” He asks softly now, shoving up your shirt and revealing your tits that squish in his grip.

“Y-you were a dick.” You mumble, he chuckles, sucking on your nipple now, sliding panties down your thighs and rolling on your clit with his thumb until you’re dripping down his fingers.

“I still am a dick, baby, you’re just horny and mad.” He taunts, he’s somehow infuriatingly perceptive for an idiot.

“Just shut up, Satoru you talk too- ah!” Satoru’s got you flipped now, fucking obscene, dragging your pussy on his face, still in his fancy ass dress shirt, you’re still in a skirt and a top yanked down, his cock sprung in your face. “I haven’t…”

“No sixty nine?” He smacks your ass, and you tremble, bracing yourself on your arms as he drags his tongue between your folds. “Such a goodie goodie.”

“Fuck you, Satoru.” He laughs, breath tickling, so you suck him down your throat, he tastes good, his tongue is godly, but you just don’t feel that thing. You don’t feel whatever the fuck it was, and this proves it.

You shove it back as he shoves his cock in your mouth, swirling his tongue around your clit and then shoving his two fingers in your cunt again, playing with you over and over, pumping in and out, you’re clenching them like a vise as he sucks your little clit in his mouth. You grind on him weakly, crying out around his length, hair falling against his thighs.

He has his pants and boxers still half way on, your hands cling to them as he’s relentless with his tongue, sucking all of your juices up as his fingers fuck your gummy little walls. He’s hitting every spot you have, grinning against you whenl you’re cumming on Satoru Gojo’s face.

He’s moaning as he smacks your ass, still fingering you. “There, fuck… if you keep… I’m…” Satoru cums then with a groan, pulsing deep in your throat, you swallow the salty and slightly bitter taste down, his hum on your clit making you cum as you do, shaking when you cum again and finally pull up, shutting your eyes.

What have you done? Just what Amber was doing to Choso, and out of what, jealousy, need? Are you any better?

Satoru exhales, tapping your hip, and you ease off him, nervously looking away. “I’m sorry I came quick, your throat…”

“No, no! It’s good. I came clearly.” He exhales, planting a kiss on your lips, his glittery eyes dilated. “That was…”

“Fucking awesome, sweets. If you give me a bit, we can actually fuck.” He teases, dragging you on his lap now, you giggle then, breathless.

“Not just yet, this was a lot more than I expected already. We don’t even date or whatever.”

“You worry too much. If it feels good just do it.” You contemplate his words, more seriously than he intended. “All right, I’m out then sweets.”

“No pussy you’re out?” You raise a brow, he grins.

“I have your pussy all over my face, so shut it.” He smacks your ass once more, hopping up and getting dressed, you start to realize what happened, it’s slowly sinking in more and more, when you walk him to the door and he winks.

“Try not to look so pleased, Satoru.” You say, he grins bigger, snatching up his coat and throwing it on his shoulders.

“Got you off enough, I should be pleased. Don’t ignore me for a week again, it makes me sad you know.” He pouts, you can’t help but sigh, he’s gorgeous, he’s talented and fuck that was good.

But…

It feels so impersonal?

“Am I like a booty call now?” You ask, trying to hide your anxiousness with him, he shrugs a shoulder.

“I don’t take them on dates, I have standards. But I don’t label, so chill.” He pats your head now, winking. “I’m like your revenge fuck.”

“Oh god.” You roll your eyes.

“Nighty night. Text me.”

“Good night Satoru.” Satoru literally hops and prances to the damn car, but you feel it, the emotions choking you already, where Choso had snuggled and kissed, or he had tried to- you’d stopped it- Satoru’s prancing to his door and zipping away, clearly he got some of what he wanted from you.

Is this who you are now?

You take a shower, resting your head on the wall, shutting your eyes as you see it, over and over, Choso and Amber in that car. But you told him you were done, you told him there was no sex anymore, so what was wrong with what either of you did? What was this feeling like hot fire pokers in your throat, this clutching and pulling at your heart?

Tearing you in two.

If you were just horny and edged, Satoru should have scratched every fucking itch you ever had, he’s perhaps more skilled than Choso at a woman’s body, you’re sure fucking him would be fun, and there’s just no feelings. He would have been a perfect friend with benefit, not Choso Kamo, the man that you look into his eyes and he sees you, truly sees you.

The man you want in bed with you, every night, you remember all those nights sleeping next to him on the couch, hearing his gentle breathing or little snores. And now you think you can’t even be his friend, it hurts too much, and you think it’s pushed you here to do this, something you would never, but the rejection from Ino stung and now Choso?

Drying up you see the twenty messages from him, each one hurting more and more as you read through them all, especially the last one, which is like a knife to your fucking heart.

Cho Bear: Please, I’ll do anything, just talk to me. Just… still be my best friend, even if I want you to be so much more, I’ll take it, I’ll take just that again over none of you… please.

That was an hour ago.

You can’t talk to him now, you can’t look at him now, after what you just did, the tears start falling from your face, it felt so empty and hollow, pure pleasure without those feelings. Without feeling like the most beautiful, important girl in the fucking world, without Choso’s sweet and sincere words. The way he’d held your face and just looked at you.

It was never just getting off with Choso, the moment he kissed you, you irrevocably fell for him, and now you feel nothing but despair.

How does doing something not ‘wrong’ feel this wrong.

You put the phone down, you can’t face him, you can’t call him, you’re still so upset with him and now with yourself. You find yourself curled in a ball on your bed, a bed Satoru Gojo had just been in, fuck it happened so fast too, and now you know it even more so.

You’re in love with Choso.

What have you done?

What has he done?What have you both done?

A/N- Yep. It's a mess, I am sure ya'll are as upset and mad as I am writing these two fking idiots, but it's a slow burn despite their immediate physical connection. I always enjoy your thoughts, how was this angst omg! This actually made me upset but remember I write happy endings <3

Taglist: @erencvlt @antisocialinlw @aquamarine001 @maskedpacific @mima0127 @yxnnu @lana18918 @bigbird789  @angellliqua @ghostskilledmyaddiction21 @aldebrana @staygoldsquatchling02 @bts-psycho @lillycore @mysticalnightbeliever @wystriz @tokyolhtl @imabyssa @delicate-ray-of-sunshine @ivyvenus333 @ghostskilledmyaddiction21 @sparklydeerface @10honeybee01 @marie-is-in-the-dark @lavender-hvze @angelcakkess @bellasworlds-stuff @pauliiis-stuff @mysouleaten @city-of-lovers @teddiiursula @flowerbbybananamilk

(tagging the rest in commentsss)

[archivist-crow]

Miles Davis - Kind of Blue (1959)

Sixty-five years ago today, on August 17, 1959, Kind of Blue, the legendary album by the Miles Davis Sextet, was released. Featuring an all-star lineup of Davis, Julian “Cannonball” Adderley, John Coltrane, Bill Evans, Paul Chambers, Jimmy Cobb, and Wynton Kelly on one track, the album is considered Davis’ masterpiece, the greatest jazz album ever recorded, and one of the best albums of all time. In addition, it is certainly also one of the most popular and influential jazz albums of all time, with its legacy extending well beyond the confines of jazz. Timeless and perfect, Kind of Blue is, as one reviewer put it, a “defining moment of twentieth century music”.

[dragoneyes618]

"Two thousand years ago another Governor washed his hands of a case and turned over a Jew to a mob. For two thousand years that Governor's name has been accursed. If today another Jew were lying in his grave because I had failed to do my duty, I would all through life find his blood on my hands and would consider myself an assassin through cowardice."

- Georgia Governor John Slaton, June 21, 1915, commuting the death sentence of Leo Frank to life imprisonment.

In 1913, Leo Frank, a prominent Jewish Atlantan, was arrested and accused of murdering fourteen-year-old Mary Phagan, an employee in his pencil factory. Although the evidence against him was very weak, the prosecution insisted on trying Frank, carefully suppressing evidence pointing to his innocence.

Frank's arrest triggered an outbreak of antisemitism in Atlanta. Throughout his trial, the jury heard mobs outside the courtroom's open windows chanting, "Hang the Jew! Hang the Jew!" Subsequent to his conviction, "[a jury member confessed] to a northern reporter that he was not sure of anything except that unless Frank was found guilty the jurors would never get home alive" (Leonard Dinnerstein, "A Dreyfuss Affair in Georgia," page 101).

Despite the clear miscarriage of justice (among other things, the "star" prosecution witness against Frank had confessed committing the murder to his own lawyer, information that the lawyer apparently passed on to the judge), the US supreme Court refused to intervene, so that the decision whether or not to execute Frank was left in Governor Slaton's hands. Although assured by the powerful anti-Frank forces of a Senate seat if he let Frank hang, Slaton carefully investigated the case and became convinced of Frank's innocence. In the prevailing turbulent political climate, he was afraid to pardon Frank, hoping apparently that that would be done a few years later. Therefore, Slaton commuted Frank's death sentence, an act that permanently ended his political career.

Several months later, Frank was dragged from his prison cell by a mob consisting of, among others, two retired superior court justices, a former sheriff, and a clergyman. They lynched Frank; for decades, a picture postcard depicting his hanged body was widely sold throughout the South.

In 1982, sixty-nine years after the trial, eighty-three-year-old Alonzo Mann, who had been an office boy in Frank's factory, admitted that he had seen Jim Conley, ab lack employee at the factory and the chief witness against Frank at the trial, dragging the girl's body into the factory's basement on the day of the murder. Mann's mother had pressured him not to get involved in the politically charged trial. In 1986, the state of Georgia granted Frank a posthumous pardon.

-Jewish Wisdom, Rabbi Joseph Telushkin, pages 482-483

[valleyofthelilly]

Texts With Katsuki but You're An Exchange Student: Part 1

PREVIOUS

Tags: Exchange student!Reader x Katsuki, Female!Reader, Uncle Might, Bestie Izuku, SMAU, Traumatic childhood, University AU, characters are 20/21, war never happened for the sake of our happiness.

The walk to the training facility was quite peaceful. In the short time you'd known him, you'd noticed Midoriya was a talker. He was asking questions about your quirk, how you learned to use it given the circumstances of your childhood, millions of things.

Usually you'd feel inclined to tell someone to fuck all the way off upon being asked any of these questions. But the space between you and your new friend felt comfortable, which was something you couldn't say you'd experienced in a long time. If anything the tension in your life had been palpable the past few months, even if it was only between you and yourself.

When the two of you finally arrived at the training facility you were happy to find it empty with the exception of All Might. He was perched on the opposite side of the room, on what looked to be a spectators bench. He raised a hand high and waved both of you over.

"Young Midoriya, Young (y/n), lock the door behind you and come on over so I can explain today's exercise." He nodded in the direction of the door and Midoriya turned to lock it. You made for the side of the room All Might was sitting on with Midoriya a few steps behind.

While All Might explained what you'd be doing you took off your overcoat. You hadn't wanted it to be ridiculously obvious where you were going, especially not after blowing off your practical partner. So you'd opted to throw the biggest flannel known to man over your training suit.

The mock up of your current gear held up well enough for it to be a training suit, one comparable to the one you've used in combat. Though the gear itself was a little... ratty. It hadn't been updated in quite some time and would without a doubt benefit from some TLC. You made a mental note to visit the support department before All Might spoke.

"Alright, go ahead and show us what you can do kiddo." He nodded as he motioned for Midoriya to sit next to him.

You tilted your head in confusion.

"Huh? I thought we were supposed to-"

"Nope. If your enemy is to have a fair fight they need to understand the range of your abilities, and yours is quite wide. Regardless of strength, It would be both unfair and reckless to send Midoriya in blind, even in a sparring match."

"Fair point, but then what do you want me to do?"

"Simple, use your quirk in the best way you know how. Show off a little if that's what you want to do," All Might waved his hand flippantly, "I just want to see what you're capable of and where your limits are, so that you can surpass them. The last time I saw you use your quirk was years ago. I would imagine you've improved since then?" He quirked a brow. Midoriya sat beside him with a notebook in his lap, looking between the two of you.

"I have." You nodded curtly, beginning to understand what was being asked of you.

"Then the floor is yours Young (y/n)." All Might gestured to the expansive training room behind you. You turned towards the open space, calmly walked to the center of the room, and thought through your plan. If improvement was what was being asked of you, why not show just how many of your limits you've surpassed?

Overhead you counted six rows of ten high-powered lights, making for sixty total. With those, plus the air conditioning, plus the rest of the technology in here, you figured you should be set. Electrical energy seemed to be the safest route while still being impressive.

Taking a deep inhale you tightened your core, the very inside of your soul to be as hard as rock. "Siphon." You breathed out on the exhale, you made an effort to feel every molecule of electricity within your reach. The current expanse of your quirk was the training room. If necessary, you could triple your reach, but you didn't want to take power from any of the dorm buildings.

Push your energy out, grab more of it, pull, compress.

Push your energy out, grab more of it, pull, compress.

Push your energy out, grab more of it, pull, compress.

You could feel your insides burning, but not in a way that hurt. They burned in the way that let you know you were sucking up every volt of energy available to you. In such a way that you could feel the energy building on itself and multiplying.

You didn't notice the way the lights went out, or the way the AC stopped working, or the electrical lock on the door come undone. You only knew you'd taken all you could when the breaker popped, then exploded with a resounding clap.

The way that you looked during was unbeknownst to you. But if you had to guess by the, "Oh my, oh my, what?" that Midoriya breathed out with wide eyes, you'd say terrifying.

If the way that All Might was looking at you like a proud father was any indication, you'd say you did your job.

Smiling softly you looked down at your, now glowing, skin. Electricity danced across it softly until you allowed it to dissipate. Simply deactivating it and storing it as potential energy.

"When I told you to show me what you got, I didn't mean to cut the power out. Jeez kid, what have they been feeding you over there?" All Might joked with a smile, one you returned to him proudly.

an: if you read all of this thank you??? and let me know what you thought please, it's always appreciated sm, i love feedback. i'm sorry this was so long. the next parts won't be this beefy i swear (unless y'all want them to be, lmk). i just wanted to get a scene of reader's quirk use in even though the description kind of sucked?? any guesses on what our quirk is? also it will be much more katsuki heavy in the future. just needed to get the setup done!

[valentinedussaut]

“I immediately recognized our dolls, that one after another, almost sixty years ago, had been launched, mine by Lila, Lila's by me, into a cellar of our neighborhood. It was them, it was Tina and Nu. The dolls that we had never recovered, although we had gone underground to look for them.

With the money that Don Aquiles gave us we bought Little Women, the novel that had led Lila to write The Blue Fairy, and me to become what I am today.

That's what she had done: she had deceived me, she had dragged me where she wanted.

Or maybe not.

Maybe those two dolls that had gone through more than half a century and had arrived in Turin just meant that she was all right and that she loved me.

That she had broken her limits and finally wanted to travel the world, no longer smaller than hers, living in old age according to a new truth, her life, that had been forbidden to her in her youth, and that she had forbidden herself.

Now that Lila has shown herself so clearly, I must resign myself to not seeing her again.”

L'amica Geniale - Chapter 34 - Restitution

[javelinbk]

Sixty years ago today, John was accused of having red hair

Sound definitely needed for John's voice and laugh...

The Beatles at San Francisco airport, 18th August 1964 - part 1 (part 2)

[cheolsblackgf]

office encounters [l.jh]

⇒ woozi x reader

⇒ word count: 3.8k (including the bonus)

⇒ warnings: just some insults but nothing too crazy

⇒ content: office romance; rivals to lovers; some kissing yadda yadda; little bit of girl bossing

⇒ note: hello pls don’t @ me about how long it’s been i already know.. didn’t think this would mark my return bc i wrote this almost a year ago but lowkey i kinda cooked with this one so i thought i’d share.. also side note PLEASE come to my inbox if you find an error bc i literally proofread like 14 times looking for this one error i saw before but it just disappeared or smth idk so if you find it i’ll give you a brownie!!! anyways 시작해볼까요

“You look pretty today.”

Jihoon from corporate communication usually has a sarcastic quip for you when you cross paths in the copy room. Where humor comes easy for him, annoyance comes easy for you the same. You both seem to get on each other’s nerves in all the right ways; never enough to report the other to HR, but enough that you’d steer clear of him the entire day if he said something that got under your skin. Something like, “Why’s marketing’s posters suck so bad?” He’ll ask, and subsequently answer himself with, “Oh, that’s right. ‘Cause you’re the one making them.” Either he doesn’t know you spend so much time figuring out which design looks best, or he knows and purposely wants to get you riled up. It works, because you’re an emotional person and if someone criticizes your work, it feels like a personal attack.

This time, though, you’re making flyers for the office yard sale slash fundraiser, and he’s making copies of coupons for the local stores. Since there are about forty floors in your building, you’ll easily be occupied for at least two hours, hanging multiple flyers on each floor. Jihoon has his hands full as well, he makes one hundred copies for each store, with there being four stores total in the area. Luckily, you go to the copier first, so when he walks in, you quickly rest with a smug smile on your face.

“Hey,” he says casually. You’re waiting for him to tell you to hurry your ass up on the copier but he doesn’t. Hey?

Instead, you respond, “Hi,” and turn back to the copier to see how many sheets are left. Still sixty five.

“You look pretty today.” He tries next. You almost hit cancel on the print job right then and there. How can he say something like that. You look pretty today? Try again, Lee! It’s not gonna work!

You don’t immediately thank him for his compliment. You just think that somehow, he’ll add in a “—pretty ugly!” and then laugh it off. That’s the Jihoon you know. Not this “hey” man. Usually when you walk into the copy room, he groans and rolls his eyes. He always has a dig ready, too. “Didn’t realise it was loser day at the copy machine.” He’d say. You always have something to come back at him with. “Must be why you’re here.” It doesn’t seem like he’ll bicker with you today at all.

The display on the machine says there’s still forty sheets left. That means you can either pretend you left something at your desk and quickly exit the room until it’s done, or you can brave it and see what this guy is up to.

The second one. “I look pretty today? What are you up to?” You narrow your eyes at him, assuming there’s either a catch or some sort of joke hidden in his praise.

“No gimmicks,” he shrugs. “I just call it like I see it.” Oh, okay.

He’s standing on one side of the machine with you at the other. The polite smile stained on his face drives you up a wall. You feel like if you reciprocate it, it’ll be overkill. Him complimenting you doesn’t change the fact that you are office enemies. His team and your team often clash, as they’re the ones that share your team’s ideas with the higher ups, only after an intense filtering which often strips your ideas down to nothing. It always sucks because he acts so smug about it when your ideas don’t get pitched how you envisioned them. “Get some better ideas then,” he’d say. Of course, you can’t go out like that, so you tell him “Tell your team to think of one idea to begin with. You get your rocks off by stealing ours, your department would be helpless without us.” It’s mostly true, but sometimes, Jihoon has good ideas. When you two are having a good day, you’ll show each other ideas and give helpful feedback. But that usually doesn’t happen if either one of you has a quip locked and loaded already.

“Didn’t realise your mouth was able to produce compliments when it comes to me.” Twenty two sheets left. He reaches over you for the mini scotch tape. “You know, usually when someone compliments you, you just say thank you and forget about it in five minutes.” While he focuses on his task with the tape, you stare at the display on the copier and watch the number of sheets remaining go down, just so you don’t have to look at him.

He’s never called you pretty before. You need everyone to understand this. The only times he compliments you are rare and they’re always work related. Nice job during that tug of war. Those prints look great. These tchotchke designs would surely sell well. The dessert you brought to the potluck was delicious.

New to the list: you look pretty today.

You’re not sure how to feel internally, but externally, your mind is already made up. You’re annoyed. How could he say something like that with such a serious face and not be joking? Why couldn’t he be joking?

“I would say thank you, but I don’t know what this is.” He raises his eyebrows at your comment. “This? I don’t know what it is either because I can’t figure out what you’re talking about.”

The copier chimes to tell you the print job is finished. You log out of the machine and move aside to collect your sheets. You’ll definitely have to make a second trip—and perhaps with a box of some sort to hold all of the sheets—but you just want to leave this room.

Jihoon starts to grab a stack of the sheets as well. “Where are these going?” He asks, sounding nothing but sincere.

“Don’t know yet. I have to put them on each floor, though. I’ll find something to put them in in a little bit.”

“D’you need help?”

You set the sheets down. “Okay, listen. I was fine playing that game three minutes ago, but I don’t get it. Every day you look at me like the bane of your existence. You tell me my designs suck, you only fill my tea mug halfway when I ask for some, and you hog the copy machine whenever I need to use it. What gives?”

It would be hard to refute the fact that Jihoon is very handsome, and you have imagined an alternate universe where he was nice to you and even flirted with you, but nothing past that. You’ve never thought of what it would be like to be his girlfriend, to wake up in the morning beside him, to have him fill your tea mug up until it’s full, to meet in the copy room to steal a few extra kisses—okay, maybe a couple times you’ve thought of this. But it almost always gets overshadowed by his behaviour towards you. He is rude to you. He doesn’t like you enough to give up the act, but he also doesn’t hate you enough to ignore you completely. He has some sort of balance that only works with you. He playfully fights with other coworkers, but only as a stand-alone. Your feud is cemented into the very foundations of the building you each show up to every morning at seven o’clock on the dot. It’s ritualistic. It’s familiar. It sucks.

Jihoon leans against the wall and crosses his arms. “What gives? I just think you look pretty today. Can’t a man compliment his pretty coworker once? It’s really not that unheard of, but if you think something else is going on, you’re right. I like you. I never said it before because I assumed you also liked me which is why we do what we do, but I’m getting the feeling you don’t feel the same way which is fine. We can just go back to how we were and forget this ever happened.”

You take the stack of copies you were holding before and quickly leave the room. Once they’re placed on your desk, you awkwardly make your way back to the copy room and get the next set of sheets. Jihoon hasn’t moved from his position against the wall even after you’ve signed off of the machine and relocated the copies out of the way.

Truthfully, you just didn’t know what to say. Him confessing this way was not only unexpected, but also a bit annoying. To think, he’s liked you all this time but consistently and routinely found enjoyment in belittling you. Granted, you also took part in it against him, but only as retaliation and defense for yourself. The whole reason this rivalry started was because he made a comment against you. Why would you be mean to someone you like?

The week goes by slowly without Jihoon’s teasing. He comes by your cubicle once to offer you a mini cupcake from the convenience store on the fifth floor. You decline. He doesn’t come back again.

You thought of pulling him aside to really unpack and discuss everything, but then you consider how much worse it could get if you do that. Things are already pretty bad if neither of you have spoken or even just said hi to each other.

By Friday of the next week, though, you’ve had it with the silence. Your cubicle conveniently is in view of the copy room so you slyly watch the door waiting for Jihoon to go in there. He always prints to-do sheets on Friday for everyone in his department for the following week. At eleven on the dot, you see him disappear in there and you make your move immediately, booking it for the room.

You casually walk in and shut the door, but not before making sure no one was coming. No one really likes it when the door to the copy room is shut because people have been caught doing … things in there, but this shouldn’t take you long. Definitely not enough time to do … things with anyone.

“Hey,” You try, in the same tone as he used with you last week. He looks up from the machine and gives you a confused yet tired look. “What are you doing?” He sighs.

“You look pretty today.” You smile, hopping up on the counter and swinging your legs. He finishes signing in on the printer and runs his print job. He turns around to face you fully. “If you’re here to make fun of me for being nice to you, I think it’s best you stop now because I don’t find it amusing.”

You grin at him. “The opposite actually. I think it’s cute that you like me, but I really wish you would’ve asked me on a date first. And maybe just been nicer to begin with?” Both your eyes dart to the door as a polite knock is heard from the outside. You jump down from the counter and place your hands on Jihoon’s shoulders from behind. Your head rounds the side of his face. “Walk me to my car later?” And he agrees.

You go to let the person in and see yourself out. It feels a bit elementary, that proposal. Walk me to my car? gives the same energy as walk me home from the bus stop? and if you weren’t already getting some twisted wave of déjà vu, you definitely are now.

You didn’t know Jihoon until last year when he started working for this company. The previous person in his position suffered an extreme illness that forced them to resign so he promptly had to fill their position. He wasn’t trained that well, but he’s done the best he could thus far. You don’t know what you would do if he wasn’t in the office. Of course, some of your coworkers are also people you get drinks with from time to time, but Jihoon feels the most… familiar. Despite having never met with him outside of the office, he feels like the most grounding person since he doesn’t put on any front or act with you. You wouldn’t let him either. That’s why his confession feels so out of left field on the one hand, but normal on the other. He doesn’t hide how he feels from you, but he must have if he’s liked you and hasn’t said it until now.

Later comes. It’s 3:42 PM when you finally wrap it up for the day. Jihoon usually leaves earlier than you, but it appears he waited to clock out so you two would leave at the same time.

Okay, you’ll admit that’s sweet. You don’t think you’d do the same for him, but only because you don’t like your job enough to stay any later.

He meets you at your cubicle. “All done?” He asks, moving into your space to help you with your things. “Yep. If you could just carry this bag for me, that would be great, thank you.” He takes the bag from you with no qualms and waits patiently as you gather the rest of your belongings.

You were sadly unable to finish all the work you meant to get done today, so you’re leaving with a bit of homework—namely designing some flyers for part two of the yard sale slash fundraiser. The first fundraiser didn’t go as planned, so the upper level management suggested a second instalment.

Jihoon probably has the same amount of work too, so you wonder how he’s leaving the office empty handed.

On the elevator ride down, neither of you say anything. All you do is stare at the bright red floor descent display and wait until it gets to 1. Upon this happening, Jihoon lets you off first and you lead the way to the parking garage.

“I take it you didn’t get a lot done today?” He wonders, surveying the various items you’re carrying. “Sadly. Honestly, if Claudette hadn’t announced the second fundraiser, I’d be as carefree and empty handed as you.” You meant to come off as nonchalant, but judging by the way Jihoon completely stopped in his tracks upon your completion of the sentence, it was everything but that. “Carefree and empty handed?” He parrots in disbelief.

“CC is scrambling to get Q3 numbers up before having to report to corporate and nothing is working. Honestly, if Claudette didn’t conjure up another fundraiser, you would’ve had to find another sad sap to carry your things to your car because I wouldn’t be here right now.” He explains, which makes you laugh a bit but otherwise frown. You didn’t realise the company’s numbers were so far down that the fundraiser is essentially a double edged sword, but you figured it couldn’t have been for no reason.

Jihoon has always been very efficient with his work, even if about two months ago (maybe even less) you would’ve scoffed and said otherwise. “You’ll figure it out. You always do.” You say, meaning to be encouraging but not entirely sure if it came off that way. “Thanks. You too.”

With your hands full, you couldn’t grab your keys to unlock your car so you have Jihoon do it for you. “Where is this bag going?” He holds it up just in case you forgot which bag it is. “Uh, you can just throw it in the backseat. Well, don’t literally throw it but um—”

“I got it.” He chuckles at your disorganised thoughts.

Once all of your things are settled in the car, you close everything up and stand face to face with Jihoon. “Thank you for the help, I really appreciate it.” You say. “Anytime. I hope you get all your work done.” You reflect the wish back to him. Sadly, you guys just awkwardly stand there for a bit before realising this conversation is not going anywhere else.

“Well, I guess I’ll see you tomorrow, hm? You have my number, right?” He nods and bids you goodbye. You get into your car but don’t start it. Instead, you watch through your rearview mirror as Jihoon turns the corner to the staircase. Had you known his car was on a different level, you would’ve offered to drop him off since the parking garage’s elevator is out of commission. However, in hindsight, the conversation was already awkward enough.

Later that night, you two text back and forth for multiple hours. All the way until 2AM you guys were exchanging messages. He’s really a sweet guy even over text.

At 2:19, he texts you goodnight and says he’ll see you in the morning.

In the morning, like you expected, you see Jihoon milling about the office floor. He sends you a wave, but his hands are full so it’s nothing more than that. You try to catch him to offer your help, but he disappears in an instant.

The flyers you were supposed to make were only half done because most of your time last night was spent talking to Jihoon. You’re extremely guilty, and you feel horrible because you know all the work you have will carry into the weekend, but you made your bed.

Eventually, Jihoon visits you at your cubicle and apologises for keeping you up last night. “It’s not your fault. I wanted to talk to you.” He smiles at this and gives your shoulder a supportive pat. “You’ll get it done.”

For the rest of the day, he leaves you alone—other than bringing you a mug of tea—and honestly, that was for the best. You do manage to catch up on and finish all the work so you text Jihoon the good news. He suggests ice cream after work to celebrate and you agree.

Your manager stops by your cubicle to compliment your hard work. “And I saw you being extra smiley with Jihoon. Good luck.” Before you can refute her statement with any type of defense, she disappears.

Extra smiley. Hm.

At the end of the day, Jihoon meets you at your cubicle once again and this time, you don’t have anything for him to carry except your comically large tote bag that you bring into the office everyday. Before you two leave, you grab your heels from under your desk that you change out of everyday upon arrival to the office. You attempt to put them in your bag, but Jihoon shakes his head. “Put those on.”

“Why?”

“We’re going out to dinner. As a date.” He reveals. You drop the heels back on the floor. “You really are a sad sap.” You remark, sliding one of your sneakers off. “Not for everyone.”

“So you’re saying I’m special?”

“Something like that, yeah.” He speaks nonchalantly. Coming from him, though, these words mean a lot to you. Ever since his initial confession, you can tell not all of his confidence is there. But it’s your goal to show him that he doesn’t have to try as hard, he’s already got you.

As you struggle with getting your sock off, Jihoon groans. “Hurry up, the reservation is for six o’clock.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Reservation? Wow, you must really like me.” He watches as you slip the other heel on. “You know that already. Come on.” He grabs your hand and leads you to the elevator. You press the down button and wait for the elevator to come up. In that time, Jihoon takes your bag from you and fixes the wrinkles in your dress.

The two of you step into the elevator and after hitting 1, the doors close and it begins its descent. In the reflective doors, Jihoon stares at you. “You’re so pretty.” He says. “Am I?” You respond. He nods. “Thank you, my sad sap.” You add, pausing for dramatic effect.

“Okay, you were pretty until about five seconds ago.” He clarifies, but holds your hand tighter all the while. He thinks maybe you’re right, he is a sad sap. But only when it comes to you.

[the end]

SIKEEEEE

BONUS

You’re almost giggling on your way to the copy room. As soon as you saw Jihoon go in there, you knew it was your cue. It wasn’t any type of plan or anything, but lately, you guys have only been able to meet in the copy room because everyone has gotten extremely suspicious of you guys and you didn’t wanna say anything.

As soon as you make it to the room, you shut the door and see your boyfriend already working on the machine. You hop up and make your place on the counter while Jihoon does his thing. “Clear?” He asks with his back to you. “Clear. For now. Come here.” You hold your arms out just as he turns to you and he makes his way over. “Missed you last night.” You whisper. He leans in to your embrace and presses a kiss to your lips. “Me too. Let’s get dinner tonight.” All your plans with Jihoon have been spontaneous because the workload has been unpredictable lately. If you both end the day with no incomplete assignments, you’ll go out and do something together, but if not, you save it for another day.

His print job ends and he reluctantly breaks away from you to go grab his copies. There’s only maybe twenty in the stack, but he asks you if you have any to make. You hand him the sheet you’re copying and he starts it up for you while you wait patiently on the counter. You zone out to the sound of Jihoon clicking around on the printer settings, so much so that you don’t hear him when he asks you how many copies you need. He asks again, “How many copies, baby?”

“Oh! Sorry, thirty-six please.” He’s not annoyed you weren’t listening. In fact, he smiles a little bit and is amused.

He inputs the amount you need and waits for the machine to start printing before making his way back to you. “What do you feel like for dinner?” He asks, caging you in with his arms. “Not sure, but not seafood.”

He pouts. “But baby, I love seafood.”

“Then you can go get seafood and I’ll stay home and watch Queen of Tears.” He gasps at this idea. Even though you’re not serious, he fakes being upset for a second.

A moment later, the door opens and your manager Claudette walks in. She doesn’t see you two right away, but once she does, she says “Oh brother,” and walks right out. She leaves the door open and you can hear her call out to someone else and say, “You owe me twenty dollars!”

You and Jihoon exchange a look. “Who do you think she’s talking to?” You ask him. He pauses for a second and moves away from you. “Me.”

“What?” But he’s already on his way out of the room. “See you later!” He doesn’t realise that he’s forgotten his copies so you’ll definitely be seeing him again soon.

The office will definitely be on fire by tomorrow with this news, you’re already aware. On the bright side, though, you can finally celebrate your first public couple activity: getting bullied by the entire office.

[the end (real)]

masterlist

[queenshelby]

Daughter Dearest (Part Three)

Pairing: Cillian Murphy (47) x Step! Daughter (21)

Warning: Infidelity, Smut, Dysfunctional Family

The next day, Cillian went to see his counsellor, the same woman he had been seeing every fortnight for the past two years, which is also when he had started marriage counselling with your mother. 

Enduring three years of loveless marriage had, of course, taken its toll on him, but now he had a different problem all together as, within a span of just seven days, he became somewhat  infatuated with you.

"Cillian," greeted the counsellor, opening the door to her office, and gesturing him inside.

"Niamh," Cillian greeted, as he walked past her and into the room, taking a seat on the worn brown leather couch, facing the armchair where the counsellor sat.

Niamh was a small, bird-like woman, with blonde hair perpetually pulled back into a messy bun and wire-framed glasses perched precariously on the edge of her nose. She was in her sixties and had a kind, open face that put people at ease, and Cillian had always found her to be a source of support and guidance, especially during difficult times in his life.

"How are you doing today, Cillian?" Niamh asked, setting down her pen and notebook.

He sighed heavily, rubbing his hands over his tired eyes.

"Okay, I think," he began, before diving straight in. "But, to be honest, Niamh, I'm just... confused and I need some fucking guidance," Cillian  said, his voice heavy with frustration and uncertainty.

"I see," Niamh said, nodding sympathetically. "Is it about what we discussed in our last session? Because, as I said before, at your age, not wanting to be intimate can be quite normal," Niamh said gently, referring to the fact that Cillian had lost his interest intimacy about three years ago when his marriage had become more than just slightly troubled.

He sighed deeply, rubbing his hands over his tired face. "No, actually, it's not about that," he admitted, meeting Niamh's eyes. "It's about something else.”

Niamh raised an eyebrow, but remained silent, signaling for him to continue.

"It's my stepdaughter," he confessed, "I have some sort of feelings for her. Strong ones, Niamh. I didn't see it coming. It happened suddenly, and now, I don't know what to do about it," he explained and Niamh leaned forward in her chair, her gentle eyes meeting his.

"Go on," she asked quietly, her tone supporting and understanding.

"I am attracted to her, not just platonically or paternally. I want her sexually and I feel guilty about it. I have never felt this way about anyone while I have been married, you know, but now, every time I see her, I am overwhelmed by a need to -" Cillian broke off, rubbing his forehead in frustration.

"It's okay, take your time," Niamh said gently, her words an invitation for him to continue when he was ready.

"Thank you," Cillian murmured, taking a deep breath. "It's just that, she's my stepdaughter and I know it's fucking wrong,"  he said, rubbing his hand over his face again.

"I assume that she is, uhm, your adult stepdaughter? Cliona? The one that has been living with you for a while?" Niamh asked after running through her notes, seeing that you had never been mentioned in these sessions before. 

"Cliona?" Cillian gasped. "No, it's her twin sister, Y/N. She moved in with us a few days ago," he replied, his voice filled with a sense of urgency.

"I see, and you are finding yourself attracted to her?" Niamh inquired, jotting down his response.

"Yes and it's making things really complicated. I haven't made a move. But when I am around her, I can't help but feel...enticed, and it's consuming me," Cillian admitted, his eyes lost in thought.

A moment of silence passed between them before Niamh spoke, "It's important to remember that feeling attraction to another person is not a crime, but acting on them in this situation can be problematic and harmful," she said gently.

Cillian nodded, taking that in. "I know, and I don't want to hurt her or my wife for that matter," he said, sighing deeply.

"Good. That's a healthy perspective," Niamh replied, nodding encouragingly.  "Now, let's explore this attraction you feel. What is it exactly about her that draws you in?"

Cillian sat up straighter, his gaze lost in thought as he tried to simply her feelings into words. "It's her intelligence and creativity I suppose. Her curiosity about the world is so captivating to watch," he explained, carefully choosing his words. "She's bold and there's a spark in her eyes - an unapologetic, fierce beauty - that I find incredibly attractive," Cillian confessed, his voice softening.

Niamh nodded, understanding the depth of his feelings. "It's understandable that you would be drawn to someone with those qualities. But as you already acknowldged, your feelings are complicated and can have serious consequences."

Cillian nodded solemnly, knowing that his feelings could potentially ruin his marriage and hurt his stepdaughter. "What should I do, Niamh? How do I move past this?" he asked desperately.

He was at a loss of what to do, and the guilt was consuming him.

"Firstly, Cillian, I want you to understand that it is completely normal to feel attracted to others, even if they are close to us." Niamh's voice was calm and reassuring, and Cillian felt a small sense of relief wash over him.  "So, it is important to take a step back and examine your feelings. Acknowledge them, process them, but above all, do not act on them until you have had a chance to carefully consider the consequences."

"I understand," Cillian said, nodding his head solemnly. "But how do I move past these feelings? Because I just want them to stop."  He sighed heavily, rubbing his forehead in frustration.

"I am afraid that you may not be able to ever truly move past these feelings," Niamh said gently. "And the only way forward, Cillian, is to address them, acknowledge them, accept them, and manage them."

Cillian took a deep breath, his voice filled with exhaustion. "Manage them, but how?" he asked, unsure of where to start.

"By making a conscious decision to distance yourself from her," Niamh replied, her voice firm but gentle. "Even in your own house, do not engage with her  unless absolutely necessary. Refrain from spending any unnecessary time with her. Focus on nurturing your relationship with your wife and your daughter Sadie."

Cillian nodded slowly, taking in her words. "Alright, I will try and do that ," he said, committing to the plan.

Niamh then leaned back in her chair, her gaze steady on him. "It's important to note that these feelings won't disappear overnight, Cillian. It will take time and hard work to manage them, but it's imperative that you do, for your own wellbeing and the wellbeing of your loved ones."

Cillian took a deep breath, his eyes meeting hers. "I know," he said quietly, feeling more resolved than ever to take control of the situation and do what was best for everyone involved.

Tags:

@sunbeamseas @saint-ackerman @oatmealisweird @naxxsstuff @amanda08319 @r-m-cidnah @elysiannook @cillshot @infireddabdab @tastycakee @harrysbestiee @lilybabe22 @adalynlowell @henrywintersdearestgirl @ietss @thatgirlthatreadswattpad @ryiamarie @axionn

@nela-cutie @futurecorps3 @delishen @nosebleeds-247 @thirteenis-myluckynumber @gills-lounge @hjmalmed @lost-fantasy @tiredkitten @sidechrisporn @smallsoulunknown @charqing-qing @hopefulinlove @aporiasposts @shycrybaby @me-and-your-husband @hjmalmed @lacontroller1991 @galxydefender @aporiasposts

@galxydefender @hunnibearrr @saint-ackerman @lunyyx @gentlemonsterjennie1 @ihavealotoffandomssorry @nadloves @lost-fantasy @nolucesn@mcavoy-girl @hjmalmed @bloodybagels @obeyme4life @richiesgroupie @blushykiss @tatumrileyslover @teawithsatanx @orijanko @rhaenyra4ever @xcinnamonmalfoyx @budugu @nadloves @kmc1989 @bloodybagels @obeyme4life @richiesgroupie @forgottenpeakywriter @smailaway @sophiaaguirred @blondie-22

[delinquentbookworm]

I just realized, if Henry doesn't get killed by something, he's going to live a really long time. Like, stupidly long.

He's a druid and at 18th Level he gets access to the class feature Timeless Body, meaning that for every 10 years that pass, his body only ages one year.

He was mid-thirties when Odyssey took place, it's like two and a half decades later and biologically, he's only now in his late thirties, maybe forty at a push. He probably looks more like Lark and Sparrow's brother than their dad.

Also I fully believe that Henry wouldn't think it was magical in nature, he would be totally convinced it was due to lifestyle choices.

Glenn - Henry, look, here's a picture of us from twenty years ago. And here's a picture of you I took earlier today. Side by side, look, you look exactly the same.

Henry - Well, would you look at that? Gee, it looks like wearing all that sunscreen is really paying off!

Ron - Okay but you're sixty and your hair isn't even thinning.

Henry - Huh, I guess you're right. That's probably the all natural shampoo that Mercedes makes - she puts rosemary oil in it, she thinks it smells nice, but it's also supposed to be good for hair follicles. I guess it's working?

Darryl - Henry, everyone else your age has creaky knees and back problems and groans when they get up out of a chair!

Henry - Ah, yes, but you're forgetting I do yoga every day, so, that keeps me limber.

[sunlightmurdock]

Ashes, Ashes | Prologue | Bradley Bradshaw

masterlist | next chapter

Six days after Maverick’s disappearance, Bradley isn’t quite whole anymore. But, there isn’t time to crumble.

warnings: bradley bradshaw x minimally descriptive oc! avery mitchell : age gap (23/33), smut, angst, hurt / comfort, mentions of character death, mourning, extra warnings to be added chapter by chapter. This entire fic and my blog is an 18+ space, minors do not interact. Do not repost.

…

“Rooster, those bandits are closing. We can’t go back.”

“Rooster, he’s gone. Maverick’s gone.”

It’s a stomach-sick, sweat inducing kind of fever that lingers now on this mild morning. Breeze blowing across his skin, patterned and rhythmic, reminding him every now and again to breathe.

It has been exactly six days since Pete Mitchell was declared missing in action. Six days since a missile meant for Bradley hit Pete’s plane and sent the sixty-five million dollar aircraft spiraling into miles and miles of desolate, freezing forest. Bradley has slept four times in those six days, and each time he has, his subconscious reminds him of exactly what he is responsible for

Today is a relatively chilly morning in May, and Bradley is sitting on the front step of a cottage near Bird Rock in northern San Diego. Today is the first day since he got home three and a half days ago that he has left his apartment. Natasha stayed over last night. She has stayed over every night. She slept by his side, on top of his covers, just holding his hand. When he was in the shower this morning, she laid out his clothes for him. She hasn’t ever known him to be this quiet. Ever.

He hasn’t said much at all since they got back. Natasha knows that he’s picturing himself alone in that forest. Dead, or worse.

Now, she sits at his side and rubs soft circles on his shoulder over the black fabric of his t-shirt. He would do it for her, if she was the one going through this. She would be too stubborn to listen to him too. They have known each other since flight school. Natasha got so drunk the first Friday that Bradley spent his entire first Friday holding her hair back while she threw up.

The next day, Bradley had embarrassed himself so badly in front of a girl he liked that he almost quit just so that they wouldn't have to see each other again.

That kind of thing bonds you for life: After that, they have remained pretty close. Especially now, when they need each other.

“Rooster, no one expects you to be here right now — you went through something awful out there.” She says it one last time anyway, even though she knows that it won’t change a single thing.

That’s one of the reasons that their friendship is so strong — sometimes a person just has to do what they have to do, Bradley and Natasha respect that sentiment. Even if it means texting back a no-good ex, or staying out a little too late on a work night now and again. Each other’s best interests are always at heart, but it’s human to not put yourself first now and again.

Bradley hasn’t sat on the steps of Maverick’s two bedroom beach cottage since he was thirteen. Right before Maverick pissed off an admiral and got shipped out somewhere crazy, somewhere cold — he can’t remember exactly where anymore, he never wrote a letter there.

That was all right before he started only seeing Maverick on holidays and special occasions, the occasional baseball game.

Pete bought this place back in the eighties.

He got it for a steal. A craftsman bungalow three blocks from the beach, with two bedrooms and a small yard. He had wanted to be close to Carole, and he had just gotten married.

Bradley’s memories of Charlie are faint, but he knows that her father helped Pete with the down payment. Maverick hated him for that. His first and, as it happened, only marriage hadn’t lasted very long. Two or three years, maximum. She was gone before Bradley finished second grade, anyway.

He remembers that she always made sure they had the ice-cream that he liked when he came to stay here — Mav had always been a little bit more forgetful when it came to that stuff.

The spare room here used to be Bradley’s. Back when his mom worked weekends at a hotel in La Jolla, and he and Pete would take Friday night trips to Blockbuster every week.

He hasn’t even been inside yet. He can’t imagine how much the interior would have changed since those weekends back in the nineties.

Glancing down at the IWC clock face on his wrist, the big hand has been creeping up on ten o’ clock for what feels like hours by now.

Breeze sweeps a strand of Natasha’s hair off of her face. She leans against her best friend, her palm trailing to the middle of his back.

Natasha has two parents. They definitely don’t see eye-to-eye often, but she knows where they are. It’s a Sunday, they’ll be at Costco. She has a sister who gets on her nerves but adores her nonetheless, Leona will be at a spin class this morning. None of the people she loves are missing. If one of them were, she would have others to lean on.

For Bradley, it’s just her now.

“I can’t let her turn up to an empty house.” Bradley’s voice comes out more hoarse than either of them is expecting it to. He hasn’t cried yet. He keeps thinking he might, the urge is there, but the tears just don’t come.

Bradley doesn’t even know her. Not really. Not even when he was a kid. It’s been sixteen years since Bradley was even on speaking terms with Maverick. Even when he still was, the news about Maverick’s accidental bundle of joy had been quite hush-hush.

He saw her a couple of times, the wriggling infant with perpetually sticky hands in an out of place looking car seat in one of Mav’s sports cars.

It doesn’t matter now that he never got to know her. Because of him, her life will be different forever. He’s got a debt to her father that he’ll never repay. For the sake of that, he’s willing to wait hours for her to turn up.

It has been six days. If Maverick survived the initial hit, and the ejection, then he has still been out in the snow for six days.

Probably injured. Alone. Being hunted. He’s gone. And yet, Bradley just can’t — or won’t — grieve him. Moving on isn’t an option.

So, he just sits here and waits. He doesn’t even know who, really, he’s looking for. He never met the mother, hasn’t really seen any pictures of you ever.

Pete Mitchell’s only child. The last time he saw her was when she was three years old, staring at him from the backseat of her mother’s blue ford escort with a pacifier in her mouth while your parents argued a few feet away.

He’d been sitting on these same front porch steps, pissed off because Mav was making him late for his baseball game.

Admiral Simpson is the one that has been doing all of the correspondence. He did Bradley a favour by giving him a heads up that the girl was even coming. Bradley wouldn’t have even known how to contact her himself.

He doesn’t have Maverick’s number any more, much less a girl he met a handful of times.

Back when he knew her, she didn’t even know her numbers. And her mother lived up near Oregon. She was a waitress. Most of the time Pete drove up to see her, or the weekends that she visited him, Bradley would stay with a neighbour.

He bows his head just slightly, elbows rested on his parted knees. Maybe he shouldn’t have worn sweats. He hasn’t ever let Natasha dress him before. Today wasn’t a good day to start. Meeting Mav’s kid wouldn’t be a formal occasion, but under the circumstances he reconsiders.

His ears perk up at the sound of an engine misfire.

Natasha flinches against him. She’s not been feeling that great since they got home either. Her dreams are like his too. It doesn’t matter.

The car squeals around the corner at the far end of the street like its driver is trying to get it onto just two wheels. He lifts his head in time to see a steel blue ford escort hit the curb on the street just past Maverick’s property line.

Instantly, he pushes himself onto his feet. That kind of maniacal attitude to manning a vehicle must be hereditary.

Both he and Natasha watch as the driver slams their fists into the wheel in frustration. Then, the driver notices them for the first time.

Hair twisted up messily, her face stark and tired, with a caught expression like a scolded child. She swallows.

Avery Mitchell has seen Bradley Bradshaw periodically throughout her life. There is no escaping his image when Maverick’s around. But, none of those photos are recent. They’re all from at least twelve years ago now.

She blinks, vague recognition in her expression as the engine splutters to sleep and she gets out of the car with the keys in her hand.

While she thinks Bradley looks different, he can’t find any semblance of the way he remembers her in her face now at all. She’s not a little kid anymore.

Natasha pushes herself to her feet, brushing the dust from her palms onto her jeans. A brief look is sent towards her best friend, but he doesn’t reciprocate. He’s staring straight ahead as Avery starts off with one foot on the pavement, swinging the groaning car door shut behind her.

High top black converse. The other foot follows next. Jeans. Normal, appropriate for the early May weather before the heat really picks up. She exhales and her hand flies up to wring at the nape of her neck, sore from sitting all that way.

“Hi,” She forces out. “Bradley, right?”

That’s stupid. She knows who he is. He knows who she is. Both of them know why they’re here.

“Yeah.” Bradley agrees without a nod. His hands are neither in his pockets nor doing anything else that might be productive. He tells himself that he should maybe shake her hand, but he doesn’t. He tells himself that maybe he should say something more, but he doesn’t.

Towering over the pretty brunette at his side, Bradley doesn’t look anything like he had in his photos at high school graduation. His face is longer and wider at the same time, his cheeks have lost some of their roundness but they still have a youthful pink flush. His hair is shorter, auburn and tidy around the back and sides. Still trying to be curly on top.

He grew up near the beach and his skin tells the tale. Freckles and a golden glow to his skin that is an all year round kind of thing by now. Slight redness across his collarbones, the high points of his body where the sun hits most when he’s drying off after a swim.

In his eyes, Avery searches; she was hoping to find the boy from the pictures. The grinning blond in the baseball uniform. Something familiar down here, at least. Instead, there’s something else.

Whatever that look is, she hopes it isn’t pity. Just because his dad — no, she stops herself, she shouldn’t think that. It shouldn’t start out like this.

“How was the drive? — Not too bad, I hope?” The tiny brunette finally bursts through the wall of silence that Avery and Bradley have been competitively building up since her sneaker touched the pavement two minutes ago. “I’m Natasha. I work with… — I — I’m Bradley’s friend.”

“Hi.” Avery starts out, dropping her hands down to her sides and shifting on her feet. She glances back at the car — practically a smoking pile of crap on the road. “It wasn’t too bad. I need to see a mechanic while I’m here, but — I don’t know. I’ll find time.” Just from watching her, Natasha can see that Avery is a personal all over the place.

Neither here nor there. She doesn’t look like you’ve been crying, either. Mascara intact, lips glossed, her makeup looks pretty.

But, there’s a restlessness in her eyes that gives her away.

Bradley knows that it has been a long time since he and Maverick were on speaking terms. He knows that even before that, they didn’t talk much about the kid he had a couple hundred miles away.

But, shit — he wishes now that he had at least seen a picture first so that he could prepare himself.

He remembers footie pajamas and drool and chubby, perpetually sticky cheeks.

Now, there’s a belt looped through her blue jeans makes sure that the denim hugs her in all of the right places and that tank top is confirming to him that she’s absolutely nothing like the faint image he has in some of his oldest memories.

There’s got to be something wrong with him — that that’s one of the first things that sprung to his mind.

That Mav’s kid got hot in the twenty years since he saw her last. He shakes it from his head. Physically. He shakes his head and finally springs into action.

“What’s the matter with it?”

For the first time in five days, it’s the first time that someone hasn’t started a conversation by asking how she holding up. It catches Avery totally unprepared, and her knowledge of cars leaves her under qualified to answer anyway.

Bradley Bradshaw takes three long strides along the stone garden path and he has reached her already.

He’s on a course right for her, and he’s big when he’s not squished into one of those photo frames in Maverick’s house. She leans back slightly, starting to brace for the impact of him hitting her.

He’s aware of his size and has learned to grow careful with it, stepping around her narrowly and heading straight for her old shitbox of a car.

“I don’t know. The steering is loose and the engine is making a weird noise.”

Bradley twists his neck and shoots an incredulous look at her, back over one of his wide shoulders.

It’s a fourteen hour drive down from the Oregon coast, on a good day, and this car ran like shit when her mother bought it twenty something years ago.

Popping the hood, Bradley finds himself thinking of something other than those snowy peaks for the first time all week. He lets out a deep breath.

Ahead of her, Avery stands confronted with Mav’s place.

The cottage she was forced to spend the occasional weekend or weeks in during the summer a couple of times through her childhood.

Most of the times that she had seen Pete was in her hometown. He was always the one who travelled. It seemed fair. His job meant that it didn’t happen often.

Avery’s memories of this house are faint, but the same uncomfortable restless feeling it gives her remains. She remember quiet days sitting on the couch with her hands in your lap, waiting for that court-mandated forty-eight hours to be up.

Natasha is facing the other way. She watches Bradley step off of the curb and pop the hood. Bradley has a technical knowledge of engineering from his career, and a slightly broader scope from his interest in vintage cars — but he’s not a mechanic.

A quick glance to her right and she takes note of the way Avery’s frowning down at the weeds poking through the stone path pavers.

Like watching a storm roll in before a big surf, Natasha has a bad feeling about this arrangement. There’s a competitive nature to the way Bradley needs to be busy — given the right permission, he’d run himself into the ground with it.

Two people who should be coming to terms with their grief, and it's clear to her that they’re both planning on ignoring this problem for as long as they can.

She stares at you, already planning on tearing up all of those weeds for the week to come.

“You can’t drive this piece of shit.” Bradley decides from the street. He stands back and plants his hands firmly on his hips, shaking his head.

Avery turns slowly on the balls of her feet and pushes her hands into the pockets of her jeans, glancing back at Natasha for a little bit of help here.

He doesn’t even look up.

Crowding over the hood of the car, glaring down at it. Thick shoulders filling out a plain black t-shirt and long legs hidden under loose fitting grey sweats. An auburn curl dangles over his forehead.

“I… Kinda have to.” Avery points out. A recent graduate with no immediate career plans, who just quit her waitressing job to pick up the pieces of her presumably dead, semi-estranged father’s life. Buying a new car isn’t exactly in the budget right now.

Bradley opens his palms and braces them against the open hood. He turns his head and looks first at Natasha. His best friend. Then, the house. He learned to ride his bike on this street. Maverick lived on this street. Finally, his attention turns to her. He watches her watch him.

Leaning against her shitty, old car like it’s the only thing keeping him on his feet. Squinting at her because he left his sunglasses in work and the doctors won’t let him go back there for another couple weeks. Natasha’s going to pick them up for him later today.

Avery’s staring back at him, wondering why he’s looking at her like that. Like he’s looking for something.

He pushes off of the car and stands, wiping his hands on his sweats. “I’ll take care of it. Whatever you need. I can drive you for a bit.”

As Bradley walks around to the back of the car and pops open the trunk to grab her bags, Natasha is struck with a numbing realization.

This really is a bad idea. She knows it’s more than him being nice, and it’s more than him owing Pete Mitchell.

Maverick put himself in an early grave trying to make up for a mistake he made when he was young, and she’s got a bad feeling that Bradley won’t stop until he does the same.

…

Tags: @ahoyyharrington @diorrfairy @just-a-harmless-potato @hangmanshoney @sgt-barnesveins @shanimallina87 @nykie-love-anime @lilyevanswhore @sammyrenae68 @moonlight-addisyn @pulisvertz @cherrycola27 @chxosunbound @tayygriffith @yuckosworld @callsign-magnolia @trickphotography2 @katieshook02 @atarmychick007 @sushiwriterhere @books-for-summer @thelonelyumbrella @angelbabyange @iwontshutuptilltheyaddgeckoemoji @stillreadingfantasy @casualhilarity @s-u-t @topguncortez @sweetwhispersofchaos @aaprilshowers @shadeds-library @bradswolfe @wishingwell-2 @roostersgirlfrxend @itsmytimetoodream

[allidoishuynh]

First post or maybe second. I think there's a picture of stuffed animals from like a decade ago. But let's see how this goes.

Jason is having his death day, Danny wants to help. (Xey and xeir are used as pronouns for an alien species for whom English can't really cut it)

The day sucked. It fucking sucked every single year. Every inch of his body ached and screamed in pain with each step, turn, and movement. He could hear the incessant, unending beeping wherever he went. Of course… it wasn't unending. It had very abruptly and very importantly ended, once upon a time. Which led him to the next reason this day, every single year, was so unbearably shitty: the sweats. It felt like he was boiling alive on the surface of the sun and no matter what he did, no matter how he distracted himself, he always remembered why. Why he had to feel this way every year and how each torment served as a memento of that day.

Jason continued walking down the street in the vain hope to clear his head when he heard a voice.

"Yeeeeesh!" A boy said, "I think I can taste that."

As Jason turned, he noticed the boy, thin, no older than 16, with stark white hair, was staring directly at him. Staring at him and slowly walking closer.

"Hey there man," he started, "believe me when I say: I know today sucks. I don't know how badly or what exactly you're dealing with, but I know it's bad."

The teen was now standing right in front of him and yet Jason felt glued to the spot, like something was keeping him there and that the very idea of brushing off this boy and continuing on his horrid stroll would be an act of blasphemy. The boy reached out a hand and placed it gently on Jason's shoulder, giving it a small squeeze. And to his utter shock, Jason didn't shrug it off. In fact, he liked it? For the briefest of moments the aches subsided, the heat receded long enough to feel the cool spring breeze, and the beeping faded into nothing. He could swear even the pits were calm. No wait, they weren't just calm; they were cooing? Pushing him to lean into the young man's touch.

"Mind if I join you?" The boy asked.

"Please…" Jason spoke, somewhere between a whisper and a prayer.

And they started back along the walkway. Jason couldn't help but feel like the world had stopped as they made their way through Crime Alley.

"You know," the stranger began, "there's nothing wrong with asking, 'GOD, why the fuck is this happening to me?'"

"Sure, you know WHY it's happening. But it seems pretty unfair, no? I mean, we go through this absolutely awful thing once, and then we have to deal with the shadows of it once every three-sixty-five for the rest of eternity? That's just brutal."

Jason knew he had trusted every word spoken to him so far, though he couldn't be sure why. But the small, rational voice in his head now confirmed exactly what the subject of their conversation was.

"Well the truth is," he continued "it's not some command by on high. No one made these rules. It's just how the universe operates. I've actually met quite a few others like us, but they didn't live on a rock rotating around a yellow star. One of them lived their whole life on a space station flying through eternity. And yet even they feel this once every so often."

"See, the thing is, humans operate on an annual time scale. We don't feel greatly connected to something that happened exactly 7 or 28 or 30 days ago. But three hundred and sixty five days… and six-ish hours puts us in basically the exact same spot in the universe. You can feel it, the same air blowing in your face, the same setting sun, even the same clothes you were wear-"

Jason collapsed. He felt the air ripped out of his lungs as he coughed and choked and desperately tried to restart his breathing. Everything hurt, everything was hot, and the GODDAMN BEEPING-

And then it was gone. The only thing he felt was a gentle hand rubbing circles into his back. He turned to look up at the… Spirit? God? "Boy" felt wrong now.

"Ope," he said with a look of concern, "so the clothes were a really important part. Starting to get a picture of what's going on here."

Jason gratefully received a second hand positioned on his chest as he was lifted back into a standing position. Then he turned back to his companion and urged him to continue with his eyes.

"Well," he started again, "basically, we live on a yearly timescale. We don't count months or decades nearly the same way. But that's just us, if we were turtles and the only big happening we saw was that every 23 years a squall split the bay we lived in, you and I would have much longer between our episodes. One of the ones I talked to said xey only experienced it once every 91 years when a certain comet makes its pass through the night sky on xeir planet."

"Anyway," he continued, "what I'm trying to say is that the universe is a fucked up place. But it has rules. Action-reaction and all that. So if you want, I can try and help you get through this as someone more familiar with those rules than you are."

"Please," Jason pleaded, "anything that'll help. I just, I just want it to be easier, I don't need it to be gone; I just want it to be bearable."

"Cool," he responded "glad we're operating on more reasonable expectations. But first things first, I'm gonna need to take a closer look at your core and it's not going to be a particularly comfortable experience. Is that okay?"

Jason nodded, though he wasn't quite sure what this being had meant by "core." He just couldn't help but trust it.

That trust felt slightly misplaced when a hand passed directly into his chest and the arm it was attached to shifted to several angles as if searching for something.

"Aha!" Came the exclamation as the hand retracted, now carrying a small red… was that a page? Like from a book?

"Well this looks cool," the being said, "jeez a bad boy with the heart of a poet. Jazz would have a field day. But let me see here… oh! A protection obsession, just like me. Put 'er there bud."

Jason felt a deep reverberation in his chest as he shook hands with the entity. But everything felt wrong, like his very being had been separated from him so quickly and quietly that he hadn't even noticed. It felt as though he might've gone on blissfully unaware if he hadn't seen the page come out of his chest. And then the world returned. The sounds of the city came to life and when Jason looked down, the page was gone and the hand that held it was pressed gently and flatly back against his chest. The spirit reached down to grab Jason's hand before turning to continue down the street. 

After a few minutes, they came to a stop at a park.

"Why are we here?" Asked Jason.

"Dunno," came the reply, "but look closely and I'm sure you'll find the reason."

Jason scanned the park. The homeless resting in the bushes, the trees full of green leaves, several families playing, an old man feeding pigeons, and another walking his dog. His eyes suddenly snapped back to the families. One family. The mother. A young woman with a long, thin scar along her cheek.

He remembered those eyes, that hair. The scar was a fresh gushing wound when he had last seen it, but he remembered that too.

"Her," Jason said, knowing the one beside him understood, "I saved her. Or helped. Back when I was- back before I was- Fuck. Was that a decade ago? Jesus she has a ki-oh man kids. Wait, is she my age? Shit, she seemed so little then."

"Someone you protected," came the voice, "someone for whom you risked your life. Someone who looks at those kids and thanks the universe for putting you on her path every single day."

Jason felt a lump forming in his throat.

"See," the boy started, "I think that's what people forget. Not just other people but us too. It's not about carrying someone through the pouring rain to a hospital. It's definitely not about the praise or detractors or even seeing someone pull through in the end. It's about this. It's about-"

"Seeing them get the chance to flourish," Jason finishes, "watching the world step on them over and over and being there to help them back on their feet the one time it would've been too much on their own. And then knowing they thrived in the end."

"It's hard," the spirit said, "to remember where we really sit in the grand scheme. It can feel like we haven't done anything or that no matter what we do, we'll never be more than one single moment. The reason today sucks every year is important. But it doesn't define who you are or what you'll do. Go visit Mr. Friedrichson at 2:03 today. One of his old tenants is gonna visit and I think you'll enjoy the reminder of why your home is a place worth fighting for, even in spite of the name. Talk to Jenny and Liu. They'll be on 5th Street tonight and they'll talk your ear off about all the good you've done and what it really means to bleed Crime Alley. And can I make one actual request, even if you don't do the other stuff?"

"Of course," Jason replied, "anything."

"Enjoy yourself," the voice spoke, fading as if it was getting farther away. "He's gonna come by as per usual, bearing gifts. But I'm begging you, forgive yourself, even if just for today, and try to enjoy some time with your brother."

"Hey Jason!" Came a call from his other side, "I've been looking all over for you. I got your favorite."

Dick lifted a large brown bag, undoubtedly from the greatest Chinese restaurant in the world… if you asked Jason that is. Jason couldn't help but let a soft smile creep across his face, before quickly hiding behind a groan and a hand pressed into his forehead.

"I can't get one day's peace from you can I?" Jason said as he closed the distance and took the bag.

"Uhh," Dick said, stunned by the more playful remark. "I… I thought you might want some company and I had a free-"

"Thank you Dick," Jason cut in, "I know you take this day off every year and I know you spend it mostly with me screaming and throwing things at you."

"It's not-" he began.

"But this year," Jason continued, "let's do something better."

He lifted the bag to his face and deeply inhaled the fragrant smell of nostalgia and stir fried vegetables.

"You even remembered my special instructions," Jason said, "come on. I know a few places we can go to enjoy this."

Oh boy that was long. Uhh, I hope Tumblr does the whole button to expand this automatically. I kinda only got halfway through what I was gonna say and then burnt out so we skipped Mr. Friedrichson's moment. Anyway have a good one y'all. Oh right, Danny says "bud" and "ope" because he's Midwestern just like me. I don't take criticism (on the Midwestern thing).