#like this year at school i feel like i was doing so well with that kind of thing

[madamechrissy]

Just Friends!?

-Art in the banner from nek0zuu_ on X-

Pairings- Former Nerd! Gojo and popular F! reader

Summary - Satoru Gojo was the biggest nerd EVER in high school with you, next door neighbors, study buddies, you were the best friends in the world. Never having the courage to ask you -the 'popular girl' out- you never knew he felt for you. He ended up leaving town, moving to the big city of LA- getting famous with a modeling career, and lost touch with everyone from his old life. While you're working the family pub to help out your parents, years later, he finally comes back to visit, just to have you making his drink. Everything about him is different, aside from those pretty blue eyes and the sweet grin. You feel he's so accomplished now, and you're just a small town girl, but little do you know, you've never left his mind.

Warnings - Will be explicit and smutty (it's me!?) Nerdjo turned famous and cocky, but he's still just a Nerdjo deep down hehe- his chap, mentions of sex/getting turned on, Gojo being a cute little nerd, embarssment level a million, this was gonna be a oneshot but... no, don't think it'll happen, so three parts maybe, welcome to part one

Based on the 2005 Rom com Just Friends - part of my amazinggg moot @indiewritesxoxo's Friday night flicks! 🌙 - Masterlist

Part One

Eight years ago- Satoru Gojo - age eighteen

Satoru Gojo is wearing his finest polo, grinning at his reflection in the mirror, he finally got his braces off, wearing just this clear retainer, which his dentist had even made it Digimon, a little Lucemon embedded in that acrylic, he snaps it in and grins at himself now. He’s looking rather spiffy, if he does say so himself, talking to the mirror now.

“You can do it, just… tell her. Just tell her.” He’s grinning with newly straight teeth, putting on his glasses now so that he can see, spiking up silky white locks just a bit, Satoru singing to that mirror, his favorite song, the one that makes him think of you. “Yeah baby, hah- I know.” He is practicing winking at his reflection, trying to be cool, leaning this way and that.

The song continues, Satoru grabs his hairbrush, singing into the handle like a pro, as he pictures you, snowy lashes fluttering shut, a little grin on his face. He leans against the mirror now, picturing his hands barring you on either side, when he leans to the mirror and presses his lips on the cool glass.

“Oh… you want a kiss, hmm?” He’s whispering, he’s constantly been practicing his first kiss.

You’ll be his first kiss, he’s sure of it!

When his mom knocks on the door, right in the middle of this, he panics, swiping off his own spit from the mirror, shutting off his speaker and clearing his throat as he opens the door, his mom gushing now, hand on her chest. “Oh little Toru, you’re just so precious! Mwah!”

“Mom, stop!” She’s smacking kisses on his cheeks, over and over, relentless in her assault on his face. “I’m not a little kid mom, it’s graduation night!”

“Oh you’ll always be my baby.” He sighs, and she looks over at the pictures now, of Satoru and his best friend - future wife (you don’t know it yet) - decorated along his walls, mixing with various posters and pictures. “Aw, is tonight the night?”

Satoru blushes bright pink, looking back at the pictures, you’re both smiling, laughing, you’re kissing his cheek, hugging him. Shit, last time you kissed his cheek he avoided washing that exact spot, for so long, and once he had you luckily had bestowed another on him. You were his best friend, but…

He wanted more.

You were the most popular girl in the school, everyone just adored you, everyone knew who you were, but Satoru? He had a few friends, you, Nanami, Suguru, Shoko… that was it though, he was overwhelmingly annoying to just about everyone, constantly besting them all academically. He asked for extra credit to the groans of the room, he played Digimon to his heart's content.

He was…

Well, a nerd.

But you loved him how he was, there was a box just full of your little notes saying just that, you defended him against anyone who’d dare say a word, thus Satoru became somewhat popular by association. Moreso, they were terrified of the consequences of being mean to your ‘best friend furr-ever’ as you referred to him.

“You just be yourself, Satoru.” His mom says sweetly, pecking another kiss on his forehead.

He sighs then, frowning. Himself… isn’t who got the girls, no you’re in one break up after another, with football stars, with the popular boys, and Satoru holds you as you cry, as another one doesn’t respect you, doesn’t deserve you. Yet Satoru never, ever told you how he really felt.

He wants to be more.

*****

As Satoru Gojo weaves his way through the insane party later that night, Suguru and Shoko come up, smiling, handing him a red solo cup, he sips it and winces at the taste. “Where is she?” He asks, holding your yearbook you’ve asked him to sign, clutching it for dear life- because it has it all, the confession of his feelings.

“Saw her doing a keg stand over there.” Shoko says, Satoru looks over to see you flipped upside down, people cheering you on.

Suguru pats his friend’s shoulder. “You can do it man, don’t be scared, I’m sure she feels the same.”

“I’m gonna do it.” You are set back down on your feet, when you see him, jumping up and down and running to him, big grin on your face, he holds out an arm for you to cling to him.

“Satoru! You’re here!” You’re bouncing now, just making your tits bounce just so in that little bustier you’re wearing, pulling back and giggling like crazy, the alcohol having rushed to your head. “I’m so happy, ah if you missed it I’d have been so bummed! Come on!”

Satoru eyes his friends, who murmur a ‘good luck’ as you eagerly run up the stairs to your bedroom, the party is of course at your place because your parents are out of town. Satoru passes couples making out in the hallway, dancing all over, kissing on the stairs, as you open your door, glaring now.

“Ah - ah, out!” You shoo away two drunk friends kissing, sighing and shaking your head, leaving the door shut, as Satoru holds his breath. “Jesus, they’re all horned up, huh? My god!” You lay down now, plopping on your pretty white day bed, as Satoru sees just the color of panties you’re wearing, making him blush more, looking away from that pleated skirt.

“I… signed your yearbook.” He murmurs softly, you sit up now, a strap falling from your shoulder, and Satoru starts to feel…

Too much.

He’d been jerking it to you since he knew what that even was, but looking at you now, he had trouble holding back, so he started to blush and stammer, as you tilt your head curiously, legs swinging a bit while you study him. “What’s wrong? Do you need a little air, I can crack open the window!”

You hop up now, bending over to lift your heavy window, the breeze starts filtering in, billowing your pretty curtains, and Satoru has to ignore the reaction of his body, willing his cock to go down. He is shutting his eyes and thinking of anything else, when suddenly you’re cupping his face. He opens pretty blue eyes to look down at you, at the girl he’s been in love with since he was just a kid.

“You alright? Not your scene, is it?” Your voice is soft with understanding, Satoru sets the yearbook down now, his own hands brushing your arms, making you tremble just a bit. “You smell so good. You look so cute! Look at your teeth! Ah, you’re so handsome, yes you are!”

You’re pinching his cheeks, ending any thoughts of maybe kissing you, as you’re cooing over him. “Stop it.”

“Oh…” You pull back, sighing. “Is it too… it’s weird to be so close to you as we get older, isn’t it?” You frown now. “You’re going to freaking Ivy league, god you’re so smart. I’ll be at Community and…”

“What, no not that. I…” He brushes your hair back, or attempts to, only to accidentally poke at your eye.

“Ah, shit ow!”

“Shit, sorry…” He tries then to grip your chin, like he sees in the movies, making your lips purse just like a fish, and he stutters. “Oh my god I… shit I…”

“Satoru, what is wrong? You’re acting so weird.” You are rubbing at your eye now, as your other strap falls, and your tits nearly fall out, making him panic, turning away and covering his face. “What-”

The door opens now, as Sukuna waltzes in, grinning at you. “Sexy, look at those tits.”

“You’re so rude, Sukuna, ugh.” You cover them up quickly, and Sukuna laughs, throwing his head back, eyeing Satoru now.

“Aw, you two are so cute, why don’t you come dance, baby?” You roll your eyes, shoving him out of the room.

“Bye! I am not your baby.”

“I feel bad for you man…” Sukuna mumbles, roughing up Satoru now, hand ruffling up his hair, as Satoru shoves at him.

“Go on Sukuna.”

“Why little buddy!?” He says your name now, as Satoru sets the yearbook on the bed, and Sukuna plops on it, leaning on an elbow. “Wanna watch how to please a woman 101?”

“Sukuna fuck off please.” You’re yanking at the big lug of a man, who just pokes at your breast, grinning. “You’re such a child!”

“C’mere now.” He yanks you on top of him, right in front of Satoru, you heat up at memories of him, your experiences with him were not the reason you broke up, it was more so he was an ass. “I’m sorry I was such a dick, baby. Can’t orgive me? Shouldn’t the captain of the football team be with the head of the cheer squad?”

“No, they shouldn’t, and no pouting. I’m spending time with my friend.” You finally shove him off, springs creaking as his heavy weight leaves, and he snatches up his yearbook now.

“You won’t even sign mine?”

“No way. Out.” Sukuna pecks a kiss on your cheek, earning a smack and Satoru’s glare behind his tortoiseshell glasses.

“Shit, man.” Sukuna wraps an arm around Satoru’s narrow shoulders, huge in comparison, as Satoru grimaces. “Friend zone is a bitch.” You blink in confusion, shaking your head.

“Friend what now? Go on, we’re talking!” You shove him out of the room finally, sighing as you see Satoru clutching that year book, the music still vibrating through the room, quieter now. “What’s he mean?”

“How would I know? Sukuna’s not exactly a friend.” He rolls his eyes, and you giggle a bit.

“Yeah, he’s kind of a dick.”

“Just kind of? Why’d you date him.”

“Well… he’s also hot?” Satoru rolls his eyes again, as your cheeks heat up, covering your laughter with your hand. “Sorry, let me see this.”

You snatch up his burgundy and black yearbook, and Satoru’s heart races in his chest, eyeing your room nervously, when you sit on the bed with your legs crossed, flipping open the glossy pages now. Satoru hears laughter then, nearly breaking his heart, his eyes shut as his fingers brush along one of your stuffed animals, he was an idiot, right, no way you could feel the same.

“Satoru what’s this - had a badass time banging you in the ‘vette, baby!??! Is this a joke like…” He panics then, eyes wide open, snatching the yearbook from your hands, cursing now.

“Shit this is Sukuna’s… Oh no…”

“Oh, no big deal. Oh, Satoru, I haven’t given you that gift!” Satoru’s sweating now, he can’t handle anyone ever seeing what he wrote but you, surely Sukuna is too drunk to notice, right? “Here, do you love it!?”

It’s a bright pink shirt, you hold up two of them in different sizes, embossed pictures of the two of you sipping on milkshakes, with little cat bodies. “What the… what?”

“You’re the white cat, and look I gave him shades!” You’re bouncing up and down again, yanking the shirt over your head, revealing just your bra, making Satoru’s eyes nearly bug out as he sees your breasts damn near.

“Stop, shit…”

“I’m stuck!” You’re laughing, breathless, when he tugs the shirt down now, so close your breath catches. You bury your head against his chest, the soft silk of his polo against your skin. “You saved me!”

“Always.” His soft words have more meaning than you know, as you slip his shirt off now, blushing as you see his body, more defined and cut than you expected, he’d definitely gained some muscle this year it seemed.

“Damn, look at you, all cut huh? Hottest bestie ever!” Your words make him stutter, then you’ve slipped the matching shirt, he stares at it in the mirror with horror filled eyes. “Besties furr-ever! God you look so cute, Satoru, let's take a picture, we’ll show our moms!”

Satoru grimaces then, as the realization hits. “Oh god…”

Friend Zone.

He was stuck in the friend zone.

Furr ever.

Then he hears it, laughter down the halls, you rush after him when he runs out, and there Sukuna is at the top of the stairs overlooking the partygoers all around the house, reading it out loud. Sukuna and everyone sees Satoru then, in that bright pink shirt with dumb fucking kittens, pointing at him and laughing as you walk out, crossing your arms.

“Hey now! Stop it! Everyone can go, I swear!”

“Wait, wait, you should hear this. ‘When it’s me and you, it’s like our own little perfect world, just Satoru and-’ You listen as Sukuna reads off it in horror, as Satoru begins to shove at Sukuna, and he keeps holding it higher, laughing. “I love you so much, you’re so special to me, you-”

“Give it back!” Satoru shoves a drunk Sukuna out of the way finally, making the big man in his letterman’s jacket stumble, as you blink in confusion, words you never expected from him, hitting so hard.

It couldn’t be.

Satoru and you were so close all these years, and not once had you even had an inkling. “Satoru…”

“No.” He runs down the stairs, yanking off the kitten shirt, leaving him bare, as everyone sings the song lyrics he’d written in your yearbook, making kissy faces as you yell at them all. “Fuck this town.”

“Satoru!” Shoko and Suguru come out front with you, as he kicks on the pedal of his bike, and you’re rushing. “Stop, please.”

“No, I’m done, with everyone here. Fuck you all.” They’re still making obscene gestures, earning your scowl, as Sukuna and the other jocks just grow louder.

“Leave him alone! Satoru, don’t go, I’ll send them all home.” You’re touching his chest now, making him falter, embarrassment pouring in.

“No, you’re popular, right?” His words hurt suddenly, you pull back as if they wound you. “You’re always popular, and I’m not.”

“You’re my best friend, who cares what they think of you? I know you’re amazing.” Your eyes fill with tears now, but Satoru’s embarrassment has taken over, they’re all spread across your front yard making kissy faces, chanting ‘friend zone friend zone friend zone’ “God don’t listen. They’re stupid!”

“No, I’m stupid, I can’t wait to leave this town, and never come back.” You’re crying more now, shaking your head.

“Please, we can… go somewhere, like we used to. I want to know… is what you said in the yearbook…”

“No, it’s… it was a joke. Okay?” You sniffle now more, and Satoru hops back on his bike. “You’re all a joke! Gonna be burnouts, and watch me get… so famous!”

“Yeah, yeah, sure.” Sukuna earns Satoru’s flipping him off, shocking the crowd, the quiet nerd had never been this way. He takes one last look at you, brows together, lips trembling.

You’d never like him anyway.

“I’m gone, and not looking back.” He rides off, hearing you shouting his name, hearing the laughter, his couple friends also trying to get his attention. You blow up his cell phone all night, all week, fuck all summer, his facebook, shit you call his damn mother, but Satoru leaves.

He leaves and never looks back.

*****

Present day- Satoru Gojo- age twenty six

It’s a bustling party, spring break is here and what place is better than Hollywood, really? Satoru is the most famous up and coming model there is, and he may or may not also be a complete whore of a man. He’s in a three piece Givenchy suit, sipping a martini and winking at a sexy waitress, who blushes immediately, earning the glare of the girl he’s with.

“This is what I mean! You only care about sex!” Satoru snorts now, as the eyes of the party start peering curiously.

“Didn’t I have you cumming like ten times this morning?” He murmurs, tilting her chin up, she falters a bit, lips parting for a moment. “That’s what I thought, sweets, don’t act like you didn’t enjoy it.”

He’s grinning brightly down at her, a beautiful model in her own right, but women were… easy, easy to get, fuck they flocked to him, and he just kept one major rule about them all. Never, ever, become their friend, he could not handle the heartbreak eight years ago, the girl who he never spoke to again, fuck you’d never recognize him now, would you?

“I do, of course but… I want something more serious.” Satoru pouts.

“That’s a shame, we were having so much fun, Michelle.”

“That’s not even my name, ugh! It’s Marie! How-”

She’s freaking out now, he must have got her confused with his other hook up, he just watches her with cold blue eyes, tapping an olive into his mouth and nodding, pretending to care. It’s just sex, but Satoru loves to fuck, he loves watching women cum for him, screaming his name, something the boy with pink kitten shirts, glasses and a retainer couldn’t dream of.

He wasn’t a skinny nerd now, he was buff, he was sought after, he bets now you’d fold for him too, but he never visited home again to find out either way. He flew his mom and friends out to Hollywood instead, the taste of the little town left in his mouth far, far too disgusting, but of course he wonders about you, but he’s never managed to find out, to ask.

Satoru shakes off the thoughts of you, realizing another girl has walked up, and she’s yelling now too. “What’s wrong with you? Who are you?” He asks curiously, making her mouth drop open, arms crossing under her breasts.

“You don’t even remember me!?” The blonde girl asks.

“Michelle?”

“No, I’m Britney! Who is Michelle!?” Satoru curses, he thinks he remembers fucking Britney in a bathroom stall, but he’s not sure.

“Um… I think I’m gonna go.” He pats their shoulders, grinning with those bright white teeth. “I have places to be, ladies.”

Satoru earns two smacks, wincing and touching his cheeks, as his friend snorts in laughter next to him. “You’re such an ass, Gojo.”

“Yeah, yeah. Shit…” His phone keeps ringing, and soon he sees it, his manager won’t stop calling. “What is it?”

“Satoru, you have connections back in New Hampshire, right?” Satoru frowns now, he never ever wants to think of his hometown again.

“Why?” He leans on the bar, as he gets another martini, winking at the bartender who can’t keep her eyes off him.

“An ideal slot for an impromptu show, and you’ll be the star! You can book a trip this week right?”

“No!”

“What do you mean no? It’s perfect, the hometown boy got famous, they’ll eat it up, money in our pockets.” Satoru’s panicking now, visions swirling in his mind, of leaving you that night.

Should he have stayed?

No way, he’ll never be in that ‘friend zone’ again, looking like an idiot. Let him go back, show them all what he’s become. “You know what… fuck it, I can.”

“That’s my Star. Alright, booking tickets!” Satoru hangs up the phone, thinking of you suddenly… surely you were long gone.

Just how were you?

Why did he care?

That life was long, long gone. He eyes the pretty bartender now, tapping his martini glass, blue eyes dipping low. “Guess I’m visiting my hometown.”

“Oh yeah, where from?” She asks softly, and he smirks, as she shakes the martini up.

“Small town, middle of nowhere. You watched me get slapped and did nothing, by the way!” She giggles.

“You look like you deserved it.” Satoru sighs, giving her the cutest pout, as she leans over, but instead of even being attracted, you’re swirling all through his damn mind, one phone call and…

He couldn’t get the memory of you to leave.

Did you look the same, were you married with kids like you always wanted, or did you have a career, did you ever end up teaching? That was your dreams, small dreams to him, but to you they had been everything. He keeps hoping the money, fame and women will fill this gaping hole you left, and he supposes he can pretend that it did, but it’s gnawing it’s way open in his chest.

He sighs, as the music fades, and his ears rush with blood, remembering you that night, so vivid it’s like you’re there, and he has to blink, to focus on the bustling, expensive party surrounding him. He contemplates it then, what would Nerd Gojo think of himself now?

“Maybe I did.” He mumbles, when he’s back home, preparing for the trip, packing his finest outfits in a Gucci suitcase, he stumbles upon that one picture of you and him that he kept then, touching it gently, withered a bit with age, with time.

He whispers your name, before shoving it deep in the suitcase and closing it, laying back on his bed.

The ‘nerd’ Gojo they knew was gone.

He was a fucking model now, he fucked models for fun, he was filthy fucking rich, and he’d show them all, right?

But… what about you, the girl who always treated him so sweet, the one he has to swallow down emotions thinking of the memory.

What about you?

Next part- Satoru comes home!! And you just so happen to be there, what will you think of the changes Satoru has made? Gonna be a lil emotional, mostly fun and sweet!!! Satoru gonna be an ass but it's okay he'll learn lol.

taglist #1- @pinkyvomit @saitamaswifey @kachowness @vraiao @artbligh @psychoartiste @ghostskilledmyaddiction21 @bsenpai @simp-for-wanderer @rjreins @emonaculate @myahfig4 @casua11ycrying @psycren @blushedcheri @ureuphoriasworld @frozenmallows @kanaojacksonofc @rcveriees @xlilycoco @yukimaniac @sypnasis @tokina @sharkubi @tztuoo @hyori2 @yesdere @gradmacoco @gamerhere @seikamuzu @xinsonyax @vvaoo @angie420 @ria54sworld @blue-musingss @mysticmyth @asimpinamillion @arabellasolstice @ilovebeansyay @notme000 @emochosoluvr @iv-vee @heh123321 @fushikamo @danilovesboba @spookyy-gracee @satorusleftnut @clqxuds @femaholicc

[luvvcharxo]

so in love with you - mark grayson headcanons

warnings: fluff, smut, NSFW CONTENT!! MINORS DNI. word count: 541 summary: boyfriend!mark x fem!reader headcanons. notes: hi so this is just some tired rambling from me because i have writers block so i cant write an actual fic. sorry, hope this feeds the mark lovers. yall, the suit stays on!!

boyfriend!mark who always makes sure to bring something for his girlfriend when he's late (as usual) to a date.

boyfriend!mark who tries his best to plan the dates, but secretly likes it when you take charge.

boyfriend!mark who has you saved as his wallpaper, a picture of you in his phonecase, and has a picture of the two of you as his pfp for EVERYTHING. no one can argue with the fact that that man loves you.

boyfriend!mark who always makes time to send you a 'good morning' and 'good night' text. it doesn't matter whether he's just been beaten up, or is about to be beaten up, he will always do his best to make time for you.

boyfriend!mark who likes to show his affection subtly, like when he does the sidewalk rule or when he holds your hand when he notices you feeling anxious. he's not opposed to PDA, too.

boyfriend!mark who feels happy when you show PDA, a big smile on his face if you give him a small kiss before going to work or school, or when you hold his hand when walking together.

boyfriend!mark who likes to remember little stuff about you, whether it be that one makeup product you wanted ages ago, or the name of your first pet. he'll even remember that one person you hated years ago and talked shit about to him.

boyfriend!mark who's too scared to initiate anything physical, worried you'll reject him (even though the two of you are literally dating).

boyfriend!mark who gets flustered during the first time you have sex, but eventually gets the hang of it.

boyfriend!mark who could live between your thighs and would be the happiest man alive, eating you out for the rest of yours (and his) life.

boyfriend!mark who worries whether he'll hurt you with his viltrumite strength, but you reassure him that you'll be fine. besides, you wouldn't mind getting crushed by those muscles anyway. it would be a nice way to die.

boyfriend!mark who stares at you for a moment when you stop him from removing his suit when you two are on your bed.

boyfriend!mark who's face turns bright red when you sheepishly ask him to keep the suit on, doing your best to prevent yourself from grinding against his hard length that you can already feel poking against your thigh.

boyfriend!mark who actually enjoys it (maybe a bit too much) when you sit in his supersuit-cladded lap, the friction between your lower halves making you let out a small whimper.

boyfriend!mark who's grateful for the fact that the suit is so tight, meaning he can still feel everything you do and how you feel.

boyfriend!mark who can feel your wetness seep through the fabric when you remove your pants.

boyfriend!mark who can't help but cum in his suit when you let out the most pornographic moan he's ever heard after rubbing against his hard-on.

boyfriend!mark who doesn't cares about the clean-up (that's a problem for future him to think about) and instead flips the two of you over, a smug smile on his face, ready for round two. maybe with the suit off, this time.

extra notes: hiii im so sorry if this isnt written well. im not used to writing sexual content, but i hope this is okay. love u guys, and reblogs are very welcome!! :3

⋆ MASTERLIST

[montreal-derogatory]

I’m so passionate about education, particularly public education. The attacks being made on public education are one of the most terrifying things to me at this point in time. This literacy crisis isn’t an accident. Ruling classes keep control over their subjects by not only denying them education (refusing to adequately fund public education, banning books, and making post-secondary learning prohibitively expensive), but by making them believe they aren’t missing out on anything.

Teachers have been attacked for years, and devalued by upper echelons of society as long as learning has been accessible to the poor. Teachers, particularly elementary/primary educators, have been relegated to the status of “glorified babysitter” for decades. (This particular term causes a whole host of problems) This ignores the fact that elementary teachers are responsible for some of THE MOST CRITICAL building blocks of learning anyone will receive in their entire lives. Primary school (ESPECIALLY now) is the main place where people nurture and grow their love to learn, and begin to learn how to think critically and discerningly. Peer reviewed improvements to teaching methods (which are designed to build critical thinking in children) have been lambasted as redundant or confusing, simply because people (including politicians and parents) refuse to take the time to learn why their children are learning things the way they are; simultaneously, very often teachers in underfunded and under-supported schools are expected to teach these new methods without a full understanding of them, which lends so much credence to the claims that these methods are redundant and confusing. The last sentence is referring to all this “new math” that the kids are learning these days. This “new math” isn’t new at all and actually goes back to the foundations of the math principles, and thinking in general we take for granted today. These methods are designed to help students learn how to break apart a problem and analyze it piece by piece, so they can solve it on their own, correcting their own mistakes (if they made any) by retracing their steps. It’s almost a philosophical, but at the very least scientific approach to math. These methods require almost no “math fact” memorization, or brute force solving, and it can be applied well beyond math.

Teaching methods like this are TERRIFYING to the ruling class because they teach people how to draw their own conclusions by analyzing a problem, and solving it with logic, rather than being told what to do.

The best way we can get children actually learning this way is by improving teachers’ access to additional resources and coaches who study these new methods and teach how to implement them in classrooms effectively. This is what administrative support can look like. In addition, we really need to demystify these teaching methods, and learning in general, for parents, so those who are actually trying and care for their kids to receive an education can properly support them at home. Unfortunately, a lack of interest in learning usually starts at home, and there is an alarmingly growing trend of parents who don’t understand what sparking an interest in learning, and nurturing curiosity, actually looks like. A loud minority of parents actively defy structured learning all together, which leads to problems like the ones I have already discussed, and spreads feelings of apathy or even hostility toward education in general.

Devaluing and denying access to education is how you squash and trick a population into submission. Hell, if you do it hard enough, the subjects may even drag each other into the cage for you. Reducing literacy is a tactic employed by empires, regimes, and oligarchies, particularly fascist ones, to maintain control.

[spacemammal]

How About Breakfast In Bed?

Masterpost

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

Part 2: Bruce Wayne?

It was a dream. He’d never released the ghosts or revealed his identity. When Superman said he would catch Phantom, Danny had just sat there. Empty. When he realized the crowd and the Justice League were gone and he was standing there alone, he’d just gone home. It had been a month since then. Phantom retired after their declaration. He didn’t want to deal with them on top of everything else. So he gave up.

The Justice League had been gone for a long time. It was over. So why was he still dreaming about it? He continued to lay in bed even though he was awake. Even with his ghost hunting days over, he was still empty. He was still so tired. He dreaded the day ahead, he just wanted to stay here. He didn’t want to leave the comfort of his pillows. They were so warm. They almost made him feel a little better. Maybe he could close his eyes and pretend he was in Batman's warm embrace like he’d been in the dream.

“DANNY!” his mom broke him from his delusions when she called him downstairs. He didn’t want to get up, but what choice did he have? He had to leave the warm embrace of his bed for the cold and cruel air awaiting him. He got ready for the day again. This time, he didn’t bother with picking an outfit or anything. He just shoved on his binder and went in what he slept in.

He didn’t bother getting breakfast either. He just left his room and headed straight out the door to go to school. He hated school even when he didn’t have to fight ghosts in the middle of it. The teachers were still mean, he was still getting bullied, he still had no friends, and his grades were still shit. The classes were so boring. The teachers just yapping on and on about things he didn’t care at all about.

“Mr. Fenton!” Mr. Lancer's yell pulled him from his sleep. When had he fallen asleep? 

“Mr. Fenton, it’s not nap time. You’re 17 for god’s sake. Pull yourself together! Your junior year is the most important year of highschool. Pay attention.” As Lancer finished yelling at him, he heard snickering from behind him. It was Dash. The hypocrite. He knew Dash had never paid attention in class a day in his life. Oh well. He didn’t have the energy to call him out.

The rest of the class was torture. He just couldn’t get himself to absorb any of what Mr. Lancer was saying. Something about a rich guy’s party? A girl named Daisy? He rested his head on his desk. It was cold and he was looking at the messy ground. He hated being there. Sleep was dancing at the edges of his brain and core again when the bell snapped him back to reality. 

He was the last to get up, and starting to leave when Mr. Lancer called after him, “the counselor would like to see you.” Right. They’d gotten a counselor after that ghost had posed as one. 

“Sure.” Danny knew why the counselor wanted to see him. He knew how the discussion would go. 

“You wanted to see me?” Danny feigned ignorance to the topic of the conversation even though it was obvious what this meeting was about. His grades were shit because he wasn’t doing any class work. 

“Yes. Come on in, sit down please.” Her voice was warm and gentle, which suprised him. He’d thought that she would be harsh and give him a lecture about how he’s slacking and needs to get his grades up.

“I’m Ms. Perry.” She gestured for him to sit. He hadn’t realized his feet were still firmly planted in the doorway. 

As he took a seat, he began to examine her office. The room was homey. It smelled like the ground after rain and the lights weren’t harsh. The chairs were plush with a soft floral pattern on them. 

“So, Danny, how have you been feeling lately?” her question sounded far too genuine to be simple small talk, but it didn’t feel like she was pushing for the information. She wasn’t the mean, aged teacher he’d thought would be hired. She was young, probably fresh out of college, and her face showed authentic kindness.

“Oh! I almost forgot, do you want any snacks? I have a ton to choose from.” She pulled out a bin of snacks from under her desk. There were so many, and… he wanted some. When had he gotten so hungry?

 “Sure,” he hesitated, he didn’t even know what he wanted.

 “Can I have.. uhh… juice?” 

 “Of course.” She gave a small, light hearted laugh with the reply, and handed him a capri-sun. 

He left the meeting with the counselor a little confused as he left her office. What had just happened? She had asked him about his home life and hobbies and basically everything but school. He hadn’t had a real conversation like that in a really long time. 

It didn’t really matter though. It’s not like his life would get better. His hope for that died when he realized quitting as Phantom didn’t do anything but let him stop fighting ghosts.

– – 

“Alright, thank you.” Maddie said as she hung up the phone. 

“Jack dear!” she called out to her husband, who was working on a ghost-hunting invention. 

“Apparently Danny isn’t doing very well right now. The counselor suggested we do something.” 

“Then what should we do?” Jack hollered from behind the machine, not bothering to look up. 

Maddie thought about it. 

“I don’t know.” She really hadn’t the slightest idea what to do. 

“I wonder if a change of scenery would do him good?” he had put down his tools and was peeking past the machine.

“He can’t go to Alecia’s.” she considered, “He hates it down in Arkansas.”  

They both thought about it for another moment. 

“I do have a cousin. I could see if he can take in Danny for a while?” Jack offered. 

“That sounds nice!” With that the conversation was finished and they continued to focus on what really mattered. Their ghost tech!

– –

Danny went straight up to his room after school like he’d been doing every day since he retired. He went straight for his bed and let himself sink into it. He could finally breathe. Sometimes it felt like he was suffocating when he was at school or with his parents. It was finally the weekend though. He didn’t have to get out of bed for a while. He just stared at the ceiling. He’d put up those tacky glow in the dark star stickers on there when he was 10. A lot’s changed since then. He didn’t really have the time or energy to study the night sky like he did before the accident. He really missed it though. If only he could turn back time and-

There was a knock on the door.

“Danny?” It was his mom. He pulled his blanket over himself and rolled over, pretending to be asleep. They came in anyway.

“Daniel, we have to talk to you.” his dad nudged his shoulder. The same shoulder he’d shot at just a month before. He hated it when they called him Daniel.

“I don't want to get out of bed.” He wanted them to go away.

“That’s alright sweetheart. We can talk to you from here.” His mom didn’t take the hint and started talking anyway. He didn’t really listen to what she’s saying, but caught some of the words and phrases.

“Blah blah blah, call from the school, blah blah blah, bad grades, blah blah blah, cousin, blah blah blah, Bruce Wayne.”

He stops them at that last bit. “Wait, Bruce Wayne?" That seemed super off topic, even for his parents.

“You need to listen better. Bruce Wayne is your father’s cousin.”

WHAT?! Bruce Wayne? How was that even possible? Danny was trying to wrap his head around this, but failing. This didn’t make any sense. How was Bruce Wayne, the prince of Gotham, related to his dad, the crazy scientist of Amity Park?

“You’ll be staying with him for a little while. We think it will be good for you. Ok?” 

Oh.

They were pawning him off on someone else so they didn’t have to deal with him. That made a ton more sense. 

“Alright then.” he felt the words leave his mouth.

“We’ve arranged for you to leave in a week.” 

Wow. They really wanted him gone.

– –

It was really a strange request.

Bruce’s cousin had gotten in touch with him after all these years. It was strange for multiple reasons. He had only met this relative once when they were small children and he wasn’t asking for money, or fame, or any of the things one would think. He was only asking for Bruce to take care of his son for a few months. The reason they cited was that he was struggling with his grades. Why would the man trust his son to a cousin he hardly knew? 

A normal request to Bruce was for lots of money. A normal request was to leave your child with someone you actually knew and trusted.

The bizarre nature of the favor drew his curiosity so , naturally, he did a full Batman-style background check on the entire family.

It would seem that the couple were scientists specializing in ghost-based study. They were considered irresponsible and conspiracy theorists in their town even after the existence of ghosts was confirmed. They developed anti-ghost weapons and Maddie Fenton had a background in martial arts, but that was about the extent of their ‘battle prowess’ if you could call it that. They had 2 children. Jasmine Fenton, a college student studying psychology, and Daniel Fenton. When he pulled up the kid’s photo, Bruce recognised him as the teenager he’d noticed in the crowd. Something about that day still didn’t feel right to him. He’d made sure to give Clark a lecture after what he had said. He was trying to make people feel at ease, but he could’ve done that while dodging the question instead of speaking on a case that wasn’t closed. 

Bruce was interested in knowing what Daniel was doing with Phantom’s thermos. As well as why he was so injured. Though he now had a suspicion it might be neglect or even abuse. The way his parents were so dismissive of him didn’t exactly inspire confidence. 

Having the boy stay with him could give him more insight into the situation.

“Alfred?”

“What is it, Master Bruce?” 

“Could you prepare a guest room by next week?”

“Yes, but might I ask why, sir?” Alfred’s face showed clear suspicion.

Bruce sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose, he knew he would get an earful from his children for this.

“We’ll be housing my cousin’s child for a time.” 

– –

Danny didn’t like change very much, and this was all happening so fast. Before he knew it the week was over. At first he had packed to last around 2 weeks, but his parents told him that he’d be staying for the rest of the last month of school and all of summer. So he decided to pack not just essentials but also other things that he just liked. He grabbed his astronomy books, his bass, his notebooks, along with a few other things to keep his mind occupied. He wished that he could pack his bed, but he settled for his blanket and most comfortable pillow. He also made sure to pack his extra binder, first aid kit, and other ‘in case of emergency’ things. This included the Fenton Thermos. He really didn’t want to leave it, but he decided he would need it if it came down to it. All of his things were packed, and he was scheduled to leave in an hour. His room was left without much in it. There wasn’t much in the first place, but it looked even more empty. Especially since his mom made him clean his room earlier in the week in preparation for him leaving. 

He looked over at his bed where a stuffed bear was sitting. Tucker had given it to him when he turned 16. They hadn’t been friends anymore when he’d turned 17. He missed seeing them. He missed being their friend. It dawned on him that he wouldn’t get to see them in the hallways of school anymore. Why was he even upset about going? Nobody liked him in this town even if he wasn’t Phantom. It wasn’t like he was leaving any friends or big relationships behind. The only person he was on good terms with was Jazz, and she’d moved away for college.

“Daniel, let’s get going.” his dad came into the room without knocking. “You wouldn’t want to miss your flight.”

– –

The flight was not the best. He’d been sat in a middle seat next to an asshole who decided to hog up his armrest and invade his personal space. It also didn’t help that Danny hated flying in planes. He could already fly by himself and it made him super uneasy when he wasn’t in control. It made him super airsick.

Luckily he was out of the plane now, so he didn’t have to deal with it anymore. Now he had to figure out how to get to his next location. Mom and dad had said something about someone picking him up, but they were super vague about it. He was just standing in the pick-up zone at the airport, stranded.

“Daniel Wayne?” He was put off by the use of his full name but still turned to face the man who’d said it.

“Yeah, I prefer Danny though.” He tried to keep his tone light but could tell that he still sounded uncomfortable.

“Ah. I will make note of that.” The man was older, maybe in his 60’s, and he was dressed way too fancy for a Saturday afternoon. “I’m Alfred Pennyworth, the Wayne’s butler. I will be escorting you to the manor. Please follow me to the car.”

“Thank you.” Danny tried to make his tone as polite as possible. He didn’t really know rich people etiquette, but he could do his best to not be rude. Alfred led him to a really fancy black car and opened the door for him (which he’d made sure to thank the man for). He said the drive to the house would be around 30 minutes. Luckily he didn’t try to start up any conversations after that. Danny really didn’t want to talk right now. He just had to survive this car ride.

That’s right. He just had to bide his time until he got to the house, then he could go up to his new room and avoid people again. Go back to laying in bed. 

He wanted to be in bed so badly. He didn’t want to meet the Waynes. He didn’t want to leave home. He just wanted to stay in his bed forever. That way he could avoid ghosts, and his problems, and people, and life in general.

He stared out the window, in an attempt to get out of his head. They passed run down warehouses, shady businesses, and apartment buildings that definitely weren’t to code. Slowly the architecture got more stable and clean until they were passing huge gothic style buildings that looked incredibly expensive to maintain. Eventually, the buildings stopped appearing, and nature took it’s place. Not so long after that happened, they reached the overly extravagant gates of the Wayne’s Mansion.

He hadn’t realized just how big their house was until he stood in front of it. He didn’t even want to be here. Why couldn’t Bruce Wayne have picked any other kid to be his charity case of the year?

“Master Bruce isn’t home right now, but his children are here so they will be greeting you in his stead.” Alfred already had his hand on the doorknob, ready to open it.

“Alright” At least he wouldn’t have to deal with meeting Bruce Wayne right now.

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

Honestly I'm super surprised about how many people like this! thank you so much for the kind words :D It genuinely means a ton to me

Thank you for reading! I haven't started working on the next chapter yet, but I'll get it out as soon as I can! :)

[mushroomsneedystuff]

Timeskip!UA Teacher!Izuku, Healer!UA Nurse!Reader

CW: smut (obviously), in Izuku's personal office, cream pie, unprotected (wrap it up beforehand yall. we don't want accidental pregnancies irl), mentions of highschool (but smut starts when you're both mid 20s), reader has a pussy (but no mention of gender)

*Feel free to tell me how to improve writing. I suck at it lol*

How did helping out the heroics teacher with grading turn into this?

You were helping Teacher!Izuku with grading since you luckily didn't have much work to do throughout the school day of being UA's new healer. You couldn't stop looking at each other, the tension growing between you both since the start of the school year. You both vaguely knew each other back from your UA days, and he was a frequent visitor of the nurse's office.

You used to help out Recovery Girl, aiming to be a healer based hero rather than someone out on the field. You were always in Recovery Girl's office, learning from her and helping her with minor injuries such as bruising and small, harmless cuts. You also took it upon yourself to try to spend time with the fellow students who had to stay and rest after Recovery Girl's quirk was used.

Izuku Midoriya was one of the main culprits of Recovery Girl's quirk. That boy got hurt more times than all the UA staff could count on their fingers and toes combined. You and Izuku both started to get to know each other better, and you were one of the first people to see him once he came back to UA for shelter after his vigilante arc.

Now, you're both back in UA. Izuku is the new heroics teacher, grumbling about students who "didn't know how to control themselves" while you understood fully well what he meant. You were the one to heal those who he specifically mentioned.

The tension through your school days had built up for years, and it was almost laughable how quickly you found yourself melting at his voice, at his gaze, at his sarcasm. It'd be funny if it didn't get you in your current predicament.

You were so easily picked up by him. Even if he couldn't be a "proper" pro hero anymore, he still had the body and build of one. He still went to the gym weekly, if not daily, and you weighed less than a feather in his eyes. Your body, held close to his and laid down onto his desk so perfectly, felt hot. Really, really hot.

Whether it was from the swarm of lust in your stomach or because his heated gaze was setting you on fire from the inside out was completely unknown. Both seem like fair guesses.

It didn't take long for the clothes to fall off, the office door locked securely. His pants were hazardously pushed down, yours completely discarded God knows where on the floor.

His cock was eagerly getting pushed through your wet cunt. It was perfect, both of you getting lost in the pleasure and letting go of the built up tension. His hips piston against yours, reminding you exactly of why he was a contender for being a Top 3 Hero in just his second year. His thumb fit so perfectly right up against your aching clit, making you dizzy enough to let out breathless moans of his name.

Any other thought except Izuku was completely gone from your brain. What were you even doing before? Did it have something to do with the scattered, ungraded tests on the floor? At this point, who fucking cared. Izuku's cock, stretching your walls so perfectly that it left you whining and moaning 'more' and 'too much' all at once, had completely scattered your sense of self anyways.

Grunts and groans of apologies leave the greenettes lips, but he didn't mean them. Why would he apologize for the reason of being able to finally hear his favorite symphony? Admittedly, he's been dreaming of it like he was a hormonal teenage boy since the first sight of you at the staff meeting weeks before the school year started. Every apology he said, it was really a thank you. A thank you for letting him feel your warm, tight cunt around his cock, and a thank you for letting him absolutely destroy you from the inside out.

His lips couldn't decide where to stay: on your lips, sucking your tongue, sucking and nipping at your neck and collarbone, glued to your breasts... There was just so many places he never wanted to pull away from, there were so many different things he wanted to try with your body (with your consent, of course).

He was fucking you like he couldn't decide if he absolutely despised you because you kept his precious pussy away from him or if he was so utterly in love with you because he finally had you in his arms and your his pussy was squelching lewdly with every thrust he gifted it.

It doesn't matter though, he'll have fucked you stupid and made love to you by the time the sun rises tomorrow.

The sight of your pussy squirting around his cock as he stills and cums deep inside you was just the alarm he needed to know it was time to bring his precious little healer home.

[bernardsbendystraws]

You Don’t Own Me

SERIES MASTERLIST

Chris Sturniolo lives by his own rules, refusing to be controlled. Some see him as a rebel, a troublemaker—but is that the full truth? Meanwhile, Y/N is focused on making the most of her last year of high school, determined to have a normal teenage experience. But when their worlds collide, they realize they may have more in common than they ever expected.

WARNINGS: COPYRIGHT NOTICE. Panic attack, drugs, alcohol, mentions of suggestive content

A/N: I tried to make it in one chapter, but this is gonna have to be multiple sorry lovies </3

JOIN THE SERIES TAGLIST BY COMMENTING ON THIS POST.

With love and big tits, Rose

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

P17: Safe?

“He told you what?” Mia exclaims, her eyes wide as she looks over at me. 

After Chris dragged me back to his room to ‘talk,’ there really wasn’t that much fucking talking. If anything, it was him trying to coddle me, mumbling to himself until he said words that made my tongue bleed from how hard I bit on the soft muscle. 

“I don’t want you hanging out with her alone.”

His words, his dumb fucking words. They made my blood boil, my body aching from an echoing pulse before I stormed out of the house, not bothering to even get my school bag from Matt’s room. 

Thankfully, Matt returned it later that night—thankfully, it wasn’t Chris who was knocking on my window for once.  

I shrug my shoulders, clutching the ice cream cup more as I lick the sweet treat off the spoon. “Yeah. I mean…that’s fucked, right?” I ask. 

Mia nods, poking her spoon into her ice cream cup as she grimaces. “Yes, very fucked. If Matt did that…” she says, trailing off with a disappointed shake of her head. 

I roll my eyes. “Matt would never do that, though.” I mutter. 

He never would. Mia’s lucky. Matt is a lot more reasonable.

At least he wasn’t toxic. 

“But, what are you telling me then? I’m confused.” she says. 

My lips curl into a smile, the idea floating and drifting into my mind falling from my mouth with a subtle dry laugh. 

“Well,” I start, swallowing some of the ice cream before clearing my throat, “-I’m gonna go to one of the lame-ass parties, make sure that Chris knows he can’t control me. I mean, I don’t even fucking understand why he doesn’t want me to hang out with you. No offense,” I look up and down, wincing as I notice the tiny bow sewn into the top of her shirt, “-if I’m not allowed to hang out with you, who the fuck would he even let me hang out with.” 

Mia nods with understanding. “Makes sense, but don’t those parties….I don’t know….like, suck?” she asks. 

“Yeah, but I’m petty.” I remark. She nods again, chewing on her lip. 

“What about Shawn? Doesn’t he make you really uncomfortable?” she interrogates. My head bobs up and down once more, my shoulders shrugging as I let out a bored sigh. “Well, what if I, what if I went with you?” she offers. 

My face scrunches. The thought of Mia at a party seems out of place. I can only imagine her in the comfy clothes she’s in. Lots of oversized zip ups with plain, soft shirts underneath—most having that cute bow sewn in at the top hem.

Hell, I couldn’t even imagine her getting in a sequence dress or anything. It just felt odd. 

“You don’t have to do that. Plus, Matt would kill me—-”

“We don’t have to tell him. This is just so you feel like you’re free again,” she blushes, looking down into her cup as she swirls her spoon, “-and I really wanna say I’ve been to a party, to be honest.” she mutters. 

I bite on my lower lip, my eyes squinting with mischief. “Perfect. But-” I lean in closer, giving her a warning look, “-you can’t wander off, alright? I don’t care if you’re pulling on my clothes like a toddler, do not leave my side. Got it?” I question. 

Mia nods with wide eyes. I sit back up, shrugging as I let out a deep breath. 

“Wanna get ready at my place? It’s a Saturday, I know there’s gotta be at least something happening tonight.” I announce, pulling out my phone and going to Shawn’s contact. 

“Yes! Oh my god, I’m so excited!” she squeals. 

A smile covers my face from her tone. I type a quick message to Shawn, my lips curling more as he types back within an instant, giving me an address of a party tonight. It’s the same house I was at the night I met Chris. At least I know where I’m going. 

At least I’ll be going with an actual friend. 

___

Music echoes through my room. I’m shifting through my closet, an irreplaceable smile on my face as I pick out an outfit. 

I feel like I’m in a movie, picking out my friend’s outfit before we go do something memorable. I’m already dressed. A tight tube top with a thin zipper on the side, a denim mini skirt, and sneakers. 

“Ohhhhh, I like this,” Mia points, pulling out a sundress of mine. 

“That’s not exactly party-clothes. Here,” A laugh pushes through my lips. I push the hanger back in, pulling her hand over to the shirt in my hand. “-what about this?” I ask. 

She hesitantly takes the hangers from my hand, holding up the outfit and analyzing the clothes with a nervous gulp. “Are you sure? This seems like—”

I cut her off, spinning her around by the shoulders, pushing her towards the bathroom. “Just try it on!” I urge. 

Mia walks off to the bathroom. I stalk over to my bay window, sitting and closing my eyes as I take a deep breath. 

This doesn’t feel good. 

Sure, being petty and feeling free did, but I didn’t wanna feel like I have to do this. Why couldn’t Chris always be sweet? Why did he have to be so…ugh. 

My body jolts as I hear a tap on the glass pane behind me. I gulp, turning around slowly, coming face to face with him.

Chris.

Fuck. 

Mia will be out any second. She definitely looks like she’s going to a party. My outfit could pass by as casual, hers couldn’t. 

I turn around quickly, pulling open the window as my heart echoes in my ears. “What are you doing here? I—”

“Why are you dressed like that?” he asks, gazing over my appearance. His tone isn’t cruel, it’s curious. 

My eyes drift to the bathroom door, my pulse hammering as I feel my face get warm. “I just wanted to get dressed up today, I—what are you doing here?” I repeat, flinching as I bit too hard on the inside of my cheek. 

Chris moves, trying to climb in through my window. His brows furrow as I push him back, blocking the entrance as I try to shield his view of the inside of my room as much as possible. 

“Can we talk?” he asks. 

My lips roll together. I shake my head firmly, huffing out a sigh as my eyes narrow down at him.

Chris swallows thickly. He takes a step back, looking down and avoiding my gaze. “I–um, okay. I’ll…I’ll give you some space, but,” his lips smack open and shut, “-can we talk…soon?” he asks.

“Yeah, whatever. Soon.” I puff, closing the window as he starts to back away slowly. 

My eyes squint together as I hear the bathroom door open, Mia’s head peeking out as she stares at me with wide eyes. 

“Does this…look okay?” she questions, hesitantly stepping out. 

Holy fuck. 

My jaw drops. The sight of her dressed in my clothes is different, unfamiliar, but not exactly bad. She looks good—really good. 

“Jesus, Mia.” I breathe, my eyes tracing over her hesitant hands as they slide over the small mini skirt. 

She’s wearing a bright blue top, one that has more coverage, but is tight. The skirt is black, simple but cohesive. She has on her typical converse, the slight frills of her socks peeking out making me smile. 

“I feel hot!” she exclaims, twirling around and strutting a pose. 

My lips flubber with a giggle, I hear my phone chime, looking down to see a text from Shawn. 

“Ready?” I ask, watching as she looks down, taking in a second glance of the outfit before looking up at me with a firm nod. 

___

It’s too fucking loud. Regret coils in my gut as I shove through a crowd of sweaty bodies, the bass nearly shaking the mansion as I cautiously watch the chandelier above me. 

This is not worth it. 

Sure, I felt free, but I didn’t exactly feel safe. 

Mia’s too passive. Her hands keep losing me as she refuses to shove through the bodies, trying to stop and say ‘excuse me.’ 

“C’mon,” I yell, my eyes trained on Mia as she squishes through a bundle of dancing girls who are barely standing up right. 

Once she pushes through, I grasp onto her wrist, tugging her behind me as I walk up the curved stairs, stopping at another living room. 

This house is huge. It’s more of a castle than a mansion. 

Shawn and his buddies come into sight. They’re all sprawled on the couch. Bottles of beer and an assortment of different drugs sit on the coffee table. I flinch at the distinct smell of weed. 

“Let’s just,” I pull Mia closer, making her sit on the empty single sofa chair before walking over and plopping next to Shawn. My fingers pinch the bridge of my nose. I take a deep sigh, trying to ease the ache in my temples. 

“Hey,” Shawn slurs, his eyes hazily blinking at me as I direct my attention towards him. 

The chatter around us is quieter, but it’s still loud. I feel his knee bump into mine. A sigh falls from my lips, but I’m not exactly annoyed with the touch. At least it’s better than being stuck in a crowd of grinding bodies. 

“Hi.” I reply. 

My eyes narrow as I watch him reach forward, pushing his beer can into my hands. 

I shake my head from side to side, pushing the drink back towards him as he shrugs, sighing as he places it back onto the coffee table in the middle of all the couches and chairs. 

“Just thought I’d offer. You look a bit,” his lips twist towards the side, “-miserable.” 

A short laugh falls from my lips at the statement. I feel his hand land on my thigh, cringing as I lightly brush it off. 

“I..I’m sorry.” 

His words catch me off guard. I look over to see his eyes falling with sympathy. 

“I should just take the hint. I guess—-I just…I really liked you. But, I’ll try to lay off.” he says, removing his hand and placing it back onto his own knee. 

The surrounding noise seems to buzz faintly in my ears. My eyes focus on him as I analyze his face. His words weren’t that slurred, he’s not completely gone from reality.

He means it.

“It’s…it’s okay. I, um, I appreciate it, really.” I remark, my lips pulling into a tight line as I watch him hum, taking another swig of his drink. 

Huh. 

Who would’ve thought the highlight of my night would be Shawn of all things.

Looking over my shoulder, my heart drops as I see it—an empty chair, the chair Mia is supposed to be sitting in. 

Fuck.

“Where—” I look over to the guys on the couch opposite to me, “-where’s Mia?” I question, standing up and peeking my head around each corner. 

She’s gone.

“Your friend?” One of them asks. I nod furiously, my face falling with panic. “She was gonna find a bathroom or something, I don’t know.” he remarks carelessly.

I feel a hand on my shoulder, whipping around to see Shawn with a stern expression. 

“I’ll help you find her. She’s probably just in one of the rooms around here, let’s go look, okay? It’s fine.” he assures, the calm tone doing little to ease the panic shriveling through my body. 

___

I can’t find her. It’s been awhile—too long. Shawn and I have searched in every room, even walking in on a couple occupied rooms. Those images would be scarred in my brain forever. 

Tears are strolling down my face. I know my makeup is a mess, but I can’t find it in myself to care. Not when I can feel a tear of anxiety ripping me apart from the inside-out. 

Mia’s probably utterly lost. She doesn’t even know her way around the mansion, she couldn’t even shove through a crowd of bodies without my help. 

“Hey, hey, hey,” Shawn grabs the tops of my shoulders, pushing down as he forces me to sit on the edge of a bed. 

My breath hitches, hiccups erupting sporadically as streams of sadness slide down my cheeks. 

Everything is too loud. I can’t even hear Shawn next to me. 

He notices this, closing the door to the bedroom, the immediate mumble of some of the noise making my eyes focus onto him. 

“What am I gonna do?” I sob, my chest vibrating with waves of panic. 

The bed dips next to me, I feel Shawn wrap his arm around me, pulling me into himself as I let my tears soak into his shirt. 

My body goes limp. I let myself sink into his hold with pure defeat. 

“It’s gonna be okay. I told all the guys to keep an eye out and…” he holds me a little closer, his voice getting softer as a broken cry erupts from the back of my throat. 

I’m vibrating. Every pore of my body is on fire, my chest constricted and tight. I sit up from Shawn, my eyes bulging as I try to take a deep breath. My lips part, but no air seeps through. 

I can’t breathe. 

“What—hey, what’s—shit,,” he panics, pushing me to lay with my back flat on the bed. 

I stare up at the ceiling, my heart lurching to my throat as my lungs burn. 

I need air. I really, really need a fucking singular breath, but nothing is coming in—-or out. 

Mia’s lost. She’s probably scared out of her mind—hell, she might even be dead.

Oh my god. 

I can’t fucking breathe.

“-look at me, c’mon,” Shawn is slightly hovering over me, trying to pet my sweaty hair off of my face, peeling some of the strands out of my mouth. 

The mascara leaking into my eyes stings. It also tastes bad as I feel a hint of the makeup seep into my mouth. Shawn seems to take notice, wiping the dark liquid away from my lips as he takes deep breaths for himself. I try to follow the pattern, but still nothing. 

No air, no relief, no safety. 

No escape, either. 

A heart-wrenching sob leaves my mouth. Everything noise is drowned by the ringing in my ears as I squint my eyes shut. 

I feel hands touch me, movements barely registering as I feel myself get pulled up and into a hug. It’s not Shawn. These hands are colder, but they’re familiar.

Chris. 

“-no, I didn’t do anything! She’s cryin because—” 

Shawn is rushing to explain himself, holding his hands up with defense as Chris glares at him with a tight jaw. The relief of air sliding down my throat makes me dizzy. I feel myself crumble further into his hold, his hands grasping tighter as I greedily gasp for air. 

This probably looks awful. Shawn’s on top of me in an empty room and I’m crying, struggling to breathe. 

“He—he didn’t,” my vision is blurry, the lack of consistent breathing makes every task ten times harder, “-didn’t do anything. Couldn’t—Mia, I—,”

“She went home with Matt.” Chris says, his voice echoing softly into my ear as I feel him pet the back of my head. 

She’s safe.

God, how could I be so reckless? 

Chris holds onto me tight. I turn around, giving Shawn a sympathetic smile. He returns the gesture, running his hands over his face as Chris helps me walk out of the room. 

It’s all blurry. Smushed bodies and too many sensations. 

As soon as we walk outside, I notice the car that typically sits in the back of the garage untouched. 

Chris unlocks the vehicle. He opens the passenger door, helping me sit down. I barely have any time to react before he’s reaching over me, clasping my seatbelt into place for me. 

“Than—thank you,” I say. 

He stalls for a second, humming in response before standing back up, closing the door, and walking to the other side of the car. 

At least I finally feel safe. 

[emojunkdog]

holy fuck.... im really feeling weidly confused by the fact that somebody does THIS just for fun. like not just halfassed but a really carefully etc but just for fun. i know that tumblrppl often happily do boring crafts like idk sewing but it feels way different bc IT WAS WHAT I LITERALLY LEARNED TO DO IN A COLLEDGE.

Which i chose Not bc i wanted to do it but solely because they didnt require any exams and

[memory unlocked]

and i was shit at learning and getting good grades. and it was one of those places where you can do even below the bare minimum yet still gradulate. and literally ALL the students there were there for the same reason but they were even worse than me so the professors were happy that all i do is just skip the classes, sleep or aimlessly fucking around bc at least i dont break things or cause the major problems. not a single person attend there for a creativity or something, it has no creative output, it was literally just a messy noisy factory job in a messy repair-needing factory. in homemade binding you can at least make your cover image, but we cant, you just take the whatever shit you were told to do and do it.

we binded things on wednesdays, usually school journals so you couldnt sneakily read books while that. except that one time when we made a book called "a star and a mask" which was a tale about bdsm slaves...and a main hero(?) was calles Smile and wore a smiley mask i think... i read it in non chronoligical order so it was a bit messes out i tried to google it few times but with zero results so idk wtf was that. seems that i was the only one who read it bc other kids wouldnt shutup if they read it. they were incredibly noisy and often incredibly obscene.

it was the two years of binding and 1 (last) year of learning to edit which was also INCREDIBLY boring but i happened to end up in pshychward and when i got out i just said fuck you all im done and i hate you so missed most of it(but still gradulated somehow)

but as i said binding was very boring and idk for me its just incredibly bad idea for spending time and as soon as i gradulate i would never even think about bookbinding even for money, left alone for ugh for f u n... but oh well ppl are strange when you are stranger etc etc

i still see that period of time as one of the best years of ma life but only bc instead of taking classes i usually walked around the city, listened to psychedelic japanese music, drawd decora boys and felt as if great and happy times are coming (they didnt come and everything turned to shit but thats another story)

(has never tried bookbinding on anything that's actually thick) I wanna bookbind lotr newsletter

[barleyo]

Raising the Bar.

Hiromi Higuruma X F! Reader X Toji Fushiguro

A/N: i've had this idea for a while so i hope it turned out well. not sure how i feel about it personally, especially since it's so ooc

Tags: infidelity, cheating, divorce, ooc, infidelity, pwp, cunnilingus, p in v, creampie, baby-trapping, hate sex, no threesome sadly

Wordcount: 2.7k

High school sweethearts never made it in the long run. Everybody had told you that what you and Toji had would burn out, but God, you didn't want to believe them. Maybe that's why you stuck by him, glued to his hip no matter what shit decisions he made or awful positions he had you in. Maybe that's why you found every excuse possible to defend him to your family. Hell, maybe that's why you had his kid. Just another thing to stick it to everyone who disapproved of your relationship.

Years passed, and every day you spent with him was spent like a game of cat and mouse. 

It started with the gambling. You knew about his high and fast lifestyle before you were stuck with him, but you never realized just how quickly a savings account could be drained. Filled, too, as there were good nights and bad nights, but that was not the point. You had never known a man who hated the flesh-scorching burning sensation of money in his pocket like Toji did. Shady casinos and the horse track were his safeholds. It wasn’t just gambling that he fell victim too, though. He was easily impressed with luxury, whether vehicle or clothing.

When you had first met, he took pride in showering you with expensive gifts and tokens, but the cost never really settled with you. It was nice, but the lingering question of where the money came from, and why it was being spent, stumped you. When he was just your boyfriend, it was well enough for you to keep your nose out of his finances.

You lived separately and had your own lives, to an extent. If he wanted to live up to his nostrils in debt and negative credit, that was far from you to speak against. You made the grave mistake of marrying him so many years ago, though. His debt was your debt. His mistakes were your mistakes. Your child, bless him, was just as much comprised of Fushiguro DNA as he was of your lineage. Despite sharing all of these responsibilities, you rarely had a say.

When Toji brought home his winnings, he was content and decent enough, as one would be. What worried you was when he lost. He was never angry at seeing your joint bank account drain, knowing he would eventually win again. He was insatiable, an unstoppable force that never found an immovable object to stall him. You begged him to cut it out, to work out his priorities, and he tried a few many times, but it was never quite up to your satisfaction.

The thing that had broken your trust in him, or what little of it you had left, was when you had tried to purchase graduation gifts for Megumi. Your card declining was something you were used to seeing while shopping. You had tried locking it, but somehow, that couldn’t stop Toji either. Normally, you would call your husband and squeeze an answer out of him, and the funds would be returned to the account after a few hours. That day, though, there was no answer when you dialed Toji’s number. A few seconds went by, accompanied by ringing, but his voicemail ultimately picked up.

It was a long time coming. You sped home and threw his clothes out onto the yard.

You felt crazy. No other wife had to do this, spare the ones on television, so why did you? Could you not have a stable marriage, with a man who, for the longest, you felt a semblance of love towards? Rather than that, could you not have a man who had it under control? One who could focus on more than one thing at a time? One who felt responsibility for something other than his own satisfaction? You wondered if you were justified in trying to get rid of him. You had been together so long, long enough to make restarting life seem pointless.

But then his car pulled into the driveway. His recently purchased car, looking nearly totaled. The car that was being financed through your shared account. The car that you had given up a year’s worth of nail and hair appointments for, so that he could afford it without dragging you both down into poverty.

You gave so much of yourself away for him. Your secrets, time, money, and career, all to stay home to raise his child that, thank God, turned out to be more like you than his father. You gave away your last name in place of his, robbing yourself of any identity, and for what? An irresponsible wretch of a man who knew only how to drink, gamble, and avoid sharing his feelings?

He was lazy, egotistical, and the biggest mistake of your life.

A friend had pointed you in the direction of a decent divorce lawyer. It killed you that it came to this point, but you refused to let yourself play the fool. You had seen how it tore your mother apart to stay with a man who she hadn't loved in a very long time. She stayed brave for you, because she realized her truth much too soon. Now was your chance, with an empty nest and few damns left to give. 

The firm was nice enough. Small, but clean. Well landscaped. Your friend broke a little more than even in her divorce, so obviously the attorneys were capable. Alimony wasn't what you were after, though. Just freedom.

You tried to look put together, if not for the sake of decency, then for the sake of your mental health. The process had not even begun, but you were already exhausted. You knew Toji was going to fight you on this, so preparing for the battle was crucial. You had to call in some backup. 

"Hiromi Higuruma, at your service. I hope you found the place without problem."

He seemed overworked, with light bags under his eyes and a stern disposition following him, but that hardly disguised the fact that he was undeniably attractive. It was simply the truth—the god honest truth—he was a good looking man. Not that you could dwell on that for long

You weren't single yet.

"Yes," you said, after an awakened moment of shifting on your heels, "easily. Thank you for consulting with me, I've heard good things about you."

"Glad to hear it. Follow me, if you would."

Your eyes scanned furiously to find something to focus on, but the ashen, beige walls leading to his office were bare. Not a hint of chaos followed him. There was a clean divide where the outside world started and ended, and outside of that was his territory. Everything in its place, everything with a place to stay. 

His desk was no different. The closest thing to disorganization was the cup of pens that sat on the tabletop, with the mess being in the pens not being color-coded. 

You took a seat across from him and held back the urge to wring out your hands. You instead gripped onto your slacks, pinching silk between your fingers. You wanted to be here, you wanted a chance, but all you could think of was failure. 

Failure to choose the right man, failure to shield your son from arguments and bitterness, failure to be the brave woman that your mother had to be. Failure to pursue happiness, when you knew you deserved it much earlier on.

Higuruma was polite enough to not point out your obvious nerves. Either that, or he had seen it dozens of times before. 

You suddenly felt very unsheltered at that thought. You weren't the first desperate, lost woman to seek his help. And with his looks, well—

"Would you tell me more about your situation?" he asked, voice firm but far from sharp. "Are you looking at a custody agreement with your husband, or splitting assets, perhaps?"

You shook your head, bringing yourself to the present reality. 

"No, our only son is long gone from home now, so custody isn't an issue. Honestly, neither are our assets. The house, the cars, they—" you picked at the skin around your nails, trying to physically peel the jitters out of your body, "—don't matter much to me. I'll take what I can get, but I just can't be with him anymore."

"And why not? Infidelity? Abuse?" He leaned back in his chair, hands clasped together and resting on his chest.

"Nothing like that," you said quickly, tongue rushing to force out defense. "Not at all. He's not the man I used to think he was, and I guess I just can't put up with him anymore. He's got a  spending problem. He's inconsistent. Irresponsible. I could go on."

He huffed in slight amusement, giving off his first impression of humanity and imperfection, with a nod. 

"Please do. I can only work with what you give me, Mrs. Fushiguro."

You cringed at the name, but held your tongue. Until legally free, Toji's last name was your burden to bear. 

"He's completely reckless. It's like I've never got a read on him, and when I do, he flies off my radar." You settled on staring at the window behind Higuruma's head to distract yourself. "He's never planned ahead a day in his life, he's just chancing it. It was fun, when we were young, but it got tiring. It used to excite me, but now it just..."

"Exhausts you."

"Right." You cleared your throat to continue. "I felt lucky, when I was young, to be with someone so free. Now, it's more like I've been trapped."

You had never had someone pay so much attention to you at one time. Given, it was the man's job, but it still felt nice. 

"At first, I thought I could handle it. Thought maybe he'd settle down once our son was born. But Toji doesn’t change. He never does. Every time I thought I had convinced him to get his act together, he’d do something stupid and drop the ball." You swallowed, trying to press down any emotion threatening to spill. "He’s not violent with me, but that doesn’t mean he’s not dangerous in his own way."

"Financial instability," Higuruma murmured. "Debt?"

"Not always. I mean, not in a normal way, at least. He always finds a way to dig himself out, but only after making things worse for us first."

Higuruma finally reached for a pen, clicking it absentmindedly before jotting down a note. "Does he know about this meeting?"

"I'm sure he does, but not by my doing. He finds everything out, somehow." You let yourself crack a smile. "At this point, I'm not sure I would even tell him the color socks I'm wearing."

"Good. It's best to keep things to yourself at this point. Detach."

Your eyes darted up to meet Higuruma's dark, tired ones. You were surprised to see him grinning.

"So, dark grey, then?" His pen tapped the desk, motioning towards your shoes underneath it. 

Your feet shuffled a bit, since he was right. 

You were glad to find him. You had faith he would make this all work out. Complete faith.

"So y'leaving me for some prissy fuckin' suit?"

Toji couldn't let it go. He heard you call Higuruma one time. Once, and he latched onto it. He had been on it for days now, trying and failing to get you to change your mind. 

It wasn't the fact that you were leaving him that bothered him. Sure, he loved you. A good bit, actually, but if you were unhappy, he wouldn't stop you. However, the thought of another man taking you—what was his—was what bothered him. 

More than bothered. It enraged him. He accused you of cheating the whole time, but even he knew that wasn't true. He threatened to physically fight Higuruma, but you shut that down just as quickly as the cheating allegations. 

He was somewhat right, though. Of course, you hadn't been with Higuruma the entire time. That was factually impossible. You had gotten close to him, perhaps too close to be considered professional.

A few week of planning court dates and splitting assets had set 'Operation Dark Grey' into motion. Naturally, you both were spending more and more time together. It was inevitable.

One evening, late at his firm, you two happened to be going over documents together, and your hands met over the top of the desk. You tried to pull your hand away, but he wouldn't let you. He held it in his, tensely, as of you would evaporate in front of him if he let go. 

There was no magical confession of love, because that's not exactly what it was. You sought solace in him, in his body. You couldn't refuse him when he sank to his knees in front of you. You gave in when his head slotted between your thighs, when his tongue dipped into your folds. 

He made you feel so good, and more than that, he made you feel attractive. Like you would have a shot in the world after everything was said and done. Like you still had it.

You were weak, and you needed him. How could you turn him down when he had been so helpful and so, so sexy? 

Technically, on a small, fine-print detail, you had cheated on Toji, but he didn't need to know that. 

"No, Toji," you said sharply, pushing your hand against his chest, "I'm leaving you for my own sanity."

"Pfft, right. You think I'm not good enough for you anymore? Got a taste of some boring bastard and now you don't want me?"

God, he could be so childish. It used to be funny, how such a strong, solid man could get so fussy. Now, not so much.

"You haven't been good enough for me in a long time," you answered quickly, spitting out what hateful venom you could tolerate on your tongue, "and you know it."

You were lucky he wasn't one to get his feelings hurt, but that didn't mean he couldn't retaliate.

"Who's not enough, huh? I don't see you bitchin' at me now," Toji sneered, pulling one of your legs up. 

He held you in a pose so strong, so mean, that you barely had the strength to balance yourself. 

It had been months since you had last had sex with him. You forgot the feeling of being drunk on him. Too bad you always woke up feeling like shit after. 

"S—shut up," you spat back. You reached your hand backwards, blindly reaching for his shirt to hold onto. You wanted to say more, to rain hell on him, but he was punching all the air from your lungs. 

He pushed your hand off of his shirt collar, jeering at your flailing palm. He bucked forward and knocked you forward, face down into the couch cushions. He preferred this view, anyways, with your ass in the air and your protests muffled. If you stayed like this more often, he thought, your marriage would have lasted longer. 

Your legs kicked, saying what your mouth couldn't. You were cramping, being bent down so sharply, but the deepness of his strokes made it nearly worth it. 

Toji was a lot of things. 

A bastard, for one. Snarky. Untrustworthy. Irresponsible. 

But, God, he could fuck. Making love, meh. But fuck? Oh, he could do that and well. 

Your greedy cunt spasmed around Toji's cock, dripping onto the shag carpet beneath you. Your mind— a mess of frustration and need. 

You felt Toji slam his cock into you, rutting his head against your cervix's tip. He dug into you, burrowing himself deep enough to become uncomfortable, but necessary. 

"What are you—?"

"Quiet," he hissed, leaning down to your ear to place a nipping kiss. "Feel that? Feel—fuck—feel me throbbing for you?"

Your eyes widened in panic. No. He wouldn't do this to you. Not over something so stupid.

"Let's just try again, yeah? I'll make it work for us, baby, don't worry. I'll take care of you both," he said through clenched teeth, shooting every drop of cum he had saved up into you.

Another try. One more go around to get this right. You guessed you could stick around. 

Everyone deserves a second, or twelfth, chance, right?

[vesperaominosum]

Second Reason

@purplerosebouquet asked:

"Heyy! Could you do a res4 Leon x fem reader fic where reader is his colleague/ fellow agent who has a situationship w Leon but he’s getting hung up on Ada and reader is jealous? Maybe even confronting him about it? Lots of angst but good ending 😭"

Summary : You escape burnout by turning your life around and becoming a government agent. Old mistakes haunt you and you find it difficult to replace old problems with the new, especially when you find yourself in a situationship. Pairing : RE4 Leon! × Fem Reader Tags : Angst, angst, ANGST, unreliable narrator, unethical therapy mention, hurt/comfort, slight smut, moderate strong language, slow burn (for a one shot) jealousy, open ending perhaps, reader is not okay and grew up watching cop drama. Word count: 10k A/N: I did NOT proofread it as well as I should've. It starts off as a hard read. but gets better eventually.

You always held pride in your emotional intelligence. It wasn’t superficial, you had a degree in psychology after all, so you knew it to be true. Managed to practice as a therapist for few months before taking time to reflect and turning your life around. It was quite a big stretch to jump from your ideas of becoming a therapist, leaving your straight A student persona behind, ditching those PhD dreams and leaping into a cycle of never-ending physical trainings, on your way to become a government agent. It was a shock to everybody in your life, but to you it wasn’t. Not in any way.

There were two reasons.

First, you mapped up the time, glued up a dream board and realized that it would take you years to finish your academic journey before you could actually do what you intended to. You also realized that watching a lot of daytime TV did you a disservice and planted an unrealistic idea in your head. You wanted to seek our murderers using your knowledge of the human nature. Help the police track the bad guys, interrogate them, wear expensive suits and even go out in the field wearing bulletproof vests with a real gun.

After years in university, this concept revealed itself as unattainable. It would take you decades to even get on a level where your expertise would be sufficient to write a decent report that could be used in court. And no one would ever let you go after criminals with a gun. And what was it about it that drew you in? What were you planning to do exactly in this scenario other than looking good and feeling badass? In case they actually hire you for that job, as a profiler (which would take additional years and expertise), you’d be too old to be physically fit enough for any of the badass visions. And when it came to those visions, you’d have to be too visually old to be taken seriously as a woman in the field anyway. At least some grey hair and wrinkles to get any respect from the men who stepped anywhere near military. It was not at all what you wanted.

Second reason was a bit more personal and way more grounded in reality. You didn’t like to think about it, but you had to be honest with yourself. Sometimes you wished you were a little bit less honest, just in your head. You wanted to sugarcoat things, and ignore problems and patterns, but you couldn’t. Admitting that you wish you could cloud your mind was too, a testament of seeing things clearly. You assessed the situation you got yourself into, and left. You didn’t like thinking about the second reason, it was a little too private, even for your own thoughts.

The third reason, that wasn’t mentioned, was the one you kept repeating to others. It wasn’t mentioned, because it wasn’t entirely true. After all, you couldn’t lie to yourself, but lying to others was easier. You told everyone that therapy was stressful and not at all physically demanding. You got into university with a scholarship because you were an athlete in school and the prospect of growing stiff sitting around and stressing wasn’t alluring. Stress needed a way out. You needed an active job. That was true, you knew it better than most and had a degree to back it up.

Training for becoming a government agent wasn’t easy. You did your best and still couldn’t get in the first year. Nevertheless, you weren’t known for the lack of determination, and soon enough you were an agent. Your dreams of wearing a bulletproof vest and carrying a gun were close enough to grab, if it wasn’t for all the paperwork you were hired to handle.

Didn't take long before you found out they only decided to accept you because of your degree, which to them made you a perfect candidate to process large amounts of information fast and make important connections. Heading straight into severe burnout, you nagged your way into a mission once, where you successfully managed to enter the building without drawing too much attention, and this success turned everyone’s eyes to you, becoming your golden ticket into the world of real missions, where the stakes were high, adrenaline was rushing and your actions actually mattered.

It was your dream life, bulletproof vest, a gun, you signed commands to your teammates, had a codename “Dove” (that you chose yourself) and for the first time in your life you felt in the right place doing the right thing. Your family and friends did not agree.

Every time you got back home, people would ask whether you found yourself a husband, implying that you only got into the field because “that’s where the real men are” since you must've gotten tired of those whiny boys you met in therapy and uni. You were perfectly aware that they tried to devalue your achievements and it made you want to never ever settle down out of spite, which wasn’t healthy, but you couldn’t help yourself. Poor coworkers that were bold enough to try their luck asking you out - got rejected, before you even thought of it. The idea of your family ending up thinking they were right all along and smirking about it for the rest of their lives made you sick. You were emotionally intelligent, yes. It didn’t mean that you were suddenly a robot and their toxicity didn’t get to you. Understanding and admitting this issue was a part of it, keeping it in mind was enough. Besides, it’s sensible to know better than confusing professional with personal.

You had it all figured out at first, the work/life balance thing. While most people in the filed allowed themselves to lack focus, only wishing to go back to their families, or on the contrary, spent all their time working as a distraction from not having any personal life or hobbies - you managed to be right in the middle. Hobbies, friends, self-care, education. At first.

Your optimistic desire to learn and improve yourself led to you taking on all the available courses that work managed to provide, which in turn led to you dealing with things mostly outside of your grade of training. Every time they were short on agents, you came in to help. Never alone, you were still too inexperienced and a woman. Nobody wanted to be responsible for writing you off dead. Even though your work was impressive, sending a young girl on a mission which resulted in her death cold not possibly look good on paper.

You disliked working with most agents. They happened to be arrogant, bad at commutation and for some reason always acted insulted that you were given the same task. It was never about teamwork to them. One of the agents once greeted you with a “Seems like I’m going to be your babysitter for this mission”. You knew better than to bite back, you never spared them the reaction they wanted to get out of you. Always friendly.

It took a toll on your mental health, but it wasn’t the worst part. The worst part was them being nice, making you finally feel accomplished, just to badmouth you behind your back afterwards.

Laugh about you being a burden and whatnot. You knew they just tried to keep up their image, to appear tough to other guys and to make sure everyone knew that they did not take you seriously, so their little crush wouldn't be that apparent. You also knew that everybody knew that, so it wasn’t getting under your skin most days.

Some nights it felt too unfair to ignore, so you imagined telling them off and commanding respect, like the women in those daytime shows you loved to watch as a kid. But every morning you felt too professional and too grounded in reality to pay it any mind. Maybe too small, but it was a secret you kept, unable to grant yourself at least a little courtesy, at least a little white lie, a lie by omission. Some silence that would protect you from self-doubt. Had to be cruel.

That nagging and flattery bothered you up until the moment you got paired with the moodiest agent. It was a brief time, a small task to help him out on a mission, getting into the building pretending to be barista and retrieving a package with intentions to pass it on to him. Got caught in a little bit of a cross fire and ended up helping out beyond your instructions.

He was famous for extreme cases and a cool attitude so you prepared for the worst. To your surprise, he happened to be extremely easy to deal with. A bit cold and he made a weird joke once that almost didn’t seem like a joke coming from him (or at best, for sure didn’t land). You hated that it didn’t go according to plan and prepared to hear all about how you were trusted with something delicate and created problems (even though it wasn’t your fault, it rarely was), but when you learned of his reports praising you for having potential and a fast reaction, you started seeing him in a different light.

Leon Scott Kennedy kind of proved to you wrong just when you started to think you were doomed to drown in self-deprecation before finally quitting. Your higher ups mentioned him giving you positive feedback and you didn’t waste time telling them that you found working with Agent Kennedy productive. He didn’t need your praise, so you praised your synergy. In all the best and seamless ways you knew how to, in order to manipulate them to pair you together more.

Your skills did not disappoint, soon enough you were working together every other mission. You were cautious not to seem annoying, but he had a way to make you feel at ease. He’d smile when you saw each other. He wasn’t a talker, but you didn’t feel any pressure. You were comfortable with his professionalism, it made you feel understood and respected.

After some time working, you were happy to return the favor, tolerated (a fair share of) his weird sense of humor. He’d alert your walkie-talkie with a stern “Dove.” and when you answered, he’d say “Flying high today?”

Made you roll your eyes every time. And finally, you were the one who got to feel annoyed, instead of feeling like you annoyed others.

He appreciated your attitude, sometimes he’d call you up to the shooting range at the base and helped you adjust your aim dealing with a bigger recoil than you were used to.

Maybe it was when he put his strong arms on yours, standing so close behind you without the gear being there to block his body heat from warming your back.

Maybe it was when he asked you if were okay at the end of the day. Maybe it was when he protected you from danger as his first priority every mission. Maybe it was when he trusted you with his life. Maybe it was when he wrapped up the mission before completing the task, because he didn’t want to risk you loosing too much blood due to your injury that one time.

Maybe it was when he texted you later. Lying in your hospital bed, you read “Dove. How’s the flight?”, how it made all the pain irrelevant. How you never answered because you suddenly didn’t want to say the wrong thing, but did everything in your power to hop back to your feet and get back to work. Maybe it was the shift in the energy that you felt once you saw him again, maybe it was the way you noticed how attractive his attitude was (when it was directed at everyone else but you). But you noticed that he certainly had an effect on you.

It was him who was the first to tell you that you’d have to stay put for a while, no feet on the ground, just “remote work”, as he kindly put it.

“Found a way to get rid of me?” - you joked before letting the sadness seep from your tensed up eyebrows straight into your eyes. He noticed and reassured you it’s temporary. And for the better. “If you say so.” was all he got. You were agreeable and there was nothing to discuss really. It was the first time he made you feel hurt. It wasn’t his fault, and you knew it, you were very mature after all. Emotional intelligence. But you still wanted to test if he’d feel bad about it and judging by the sigh that he let out, it worked. Smirk on your face as you walked away.

Same smirk curled up your lips when he came by the headquarters to ask how you’re doing, seeing you in hoodie with your hair down, talking to an intern, a young nerdy guy who was explaining something you pretended to care about.

“Getting comfortable?” – he asked, you weren’t sure if he was referring to your friendliness with an intern or your blunt dress code violations. Truth be told, you knew he was entering the base and let your hair down intentionally.

“Yeah…” – you put a hand through your hair, - “Keep getting headaches staring at the screen for hours and all..., hair ties do not help”.

You noticed his gaze lingering, - “Can’t catch a break, can you?” – he joked.

“Well, if everyone writing me off counts as a break, it’s all I’ve been catching.”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” – he rolled his eyes, before looking at the intern, the guy's name was Nail, Neville, Niall something like that. Niall pretended to work behind you, and Leon lowered his voice, softened even, - “you know it’s not like that.”

“I know, I’m just making sure you know I don’t like it.” – you lowered your voice to match his, - “However it is.”

“Came here to make sure of that.” – there was a hint of a smile in his voice as he leaned closer to say that, before pulling away, - “Planned on disrupting your little holiday soon.”

Your eyes sparked, - “You did?”

“Can’t afford all my mentoring go to waste because of one stab wound. Ridiculous.”

“Your mentoring?” – you laughed, watching his relaxed smile for the first time, you liked that smile, - “Sure, that would be criminal.”

Getting back to work was easy, you never really needed that much time off anyway. You’d consider it a waste of time, if it wasn’t for a conformation that Leon cared about you in some way. You got bolder equipped with that knowledge.

Things generally shifted a little. His usual teasing turned into “Dove. Flying high? Both wings intact?”, he switched to a more hands-on approach, moving you around and grabbing your arms to stall you more than usual. He got more comfortable. It was like after your first big injury he got his conformation that you can handle harm and stopped acting like he was responsible for your every step, even though he never was.

Things got more easy until they got more complicated. When adrenaline got the best of you after speed climbing an abandoned military base wall to get away from landmines that were about to be triggered by a fallen satellite tower. Both heaving, lying on the floor, ecstatic that you made it.

Leon crawled his way to you, putting his hand to your side, where you were stabbed (three months ago by now), - “You okay?” - he put his hand on your forehead and brushed his knuckles over your temples, like it will give him any indication.

You sat up slightly. “Yeah…” - grabbing onto his forearm to get up, but getting lost in the vision instead. You both were high on the rush, him almost on top of you, sweat covering your faces, breathing deeply, it was only natural to put your hand on his shoulder and letting him kiss you. Kissing him back. Falling back on the floor, hearing him grunt into your lips as he fell onto you, putting your hand into his hair, pressing him closer, deepening the kiss. You made it out alive. You were so alive.

“Fuck,” – he breathed out between kisses, - “we got to go back”, - he kissed you deeper, as he let his hand grab your chest, moving it to your back, possessively, lifting you up, closer.

You held onto his arm, as if ordering it to stay there. Ordering, begging, approving… Nodding, - “yeah,” – and kissing him back. You both knew this moment might be the only one to steal. It was all there. It was all there was.

But you managed to pull away, the spell was broken and it turned into tension. And you got back without any distractions. Silent on the helicopter, both solemn in your own throughs.

Both planning on how to go about this incident, both trying to keep it professional, without ruining your partnership. Both failing as your off-duty talk turned into you kissing him against the wall of your on-base apartment, his knee between your legs, your hands under his shirt.

The story was: you both had the same monologue prepared, your ideals, sense of professionalism and morals aligned. And since it all aligned anyway, why does it matter?

You were great when it came to team work, you trusted him with your all and he met you in every way possible, every kiss, every thrust, every bite, he even came through with it every time all you needed to cum was to hear him moan.

You managed to keep it professional outside of the bedroom (or any room really where no one could see). It worked. You were too busy for proper relationships, you knew how to make each other feel good, you cared about each other, and you both wanted it. That’s what you kept telling yourself.

But you were a bad liar when it came to facing yourself. You knew damn well that you didn’t want any other proper relationships. You also didn’t want to change how things were, you did not put everything at stake for this career to throw it away on some good dick. Some good dick. Nice shoulders. And strong hands, that held you up, like they designed you and were making sure it stayed in place. Big legs and steady hips, that felt just right every time you came down on them. Firm lips, that took what they wanted. Soft voice that was sharpened with a rasp, always asking if you’re all right, if it’s okay, if you like it, if you’re close. Never had to ask, in his mind he always knew. His mind, always busy. Baby blue eyes, attentive, detached, sad. Ghosts, so many ghosts.

You wanted to take it away, you could. You saw past his exterior, you wanted to repair it, whatever it was. Your past mistakes coming back to the surface. Your second reason. Never could keep any boundaries. Drawn to all the broken things, too invested. You made a bad therapist, an even worse agent as it turned out.

But it was different with Leon, he was on the same page. There was no disbalance, no uncomfortable power dynamic, besides that in the bedroom, where he could easily overpower, holding you down, as you shake, as you pull his hair; him not letting you come down from your high before forcing another round of bliss onto your overstimulated body. No, outside of all that, there was no disbalance. You were on the same page. You were both okay. You were equal. It was better, he wasn’t your client, you didn’t have to feel bad.

You could care about him and it didn’t mean going back to destructive patterns. And it’s only natural for a person to care about another. You weren’t his therapist. You weren’t even his friend. You were just two people who understood what they..., were to each other and who were on the same page. Whatever that page was. He wasn’t letting you down this road alone. He had you. Whatever it meant.

It was special. And you felt like it was all worth it. It was scary to let your mind wonder to places he occupied, but soon enough you had trouble finding any space he didn’t. He was everywhere, like a new puzzle you tried to put together. What shaped him into this man you wanted to disappear into? What weights him down? What was he like as a child? What’s on his mind when you’re not together? What are the missing pieces? What pieces needed mending?

It was not your intention to let yourself get so wrapped up, but it was hard not to when he wrapped your legs around his shoulders, riling up the tug in your stomach with his tongue until your mind went white. So so wrapped up. Messed up. His hair, your body, your thighs, your thoughts.

You cut down on joint missions, couldn’t risk it. Seeing him in action distracted you, it wasn’t safe. He understood. It was hard seeing you in gear. It was really hard.

When you finally learned how to behave, you happened to work together more, couldn’t risk growing too far apart. Had to keep your hands to yourself, your thoughts focused on the task. Despite betting your all on these changes helping you to prioritize your career, you found yourself more ready than ever to throw it all away. Head first into his embrace, you didn’t care about your family gloating about being right, about proving it to yourself that you’re unable to keep anything professional enough. Despite every wall you’ve built. He made it seem worth it. Inviting. Safe. And if you were on the same page…, Were you on the same page? He had to be.

Where was he?

Those thoughts were doomed to be pruned before blooming because you couldn’t let the reality slip away. You had a dangerous job, even if you leave to make it more acceptable for you to be together, he won’t. And you can’t trust yourself to be okay with him putting himself at risk with no means to help out or at least to know what’s going on.

And you couldn’t forget that the only reason you happened to fall into this was out of convenience. Maybe not the only reason, but the main reason. One of the main reasons.

You were sensible, but in your head, you were retired in a house near some sea, lying on a blanket on some beach, reminiscing the old days with a smile with Leon next to you. For now, your goal was to collect as many memories as you could, make sure you have plenty to look back at. He’d be hot with grey hair. He’d kiss your temple and there’d be no ghosts in his eyes by then. You could see it so clearly. You’d love it all down. It would be perfect.

The day you wrapped up another mission (a big round number for you) you started planning the celebration. It was how it was done here. Had to plan ahead, but was way too busy daydreaming.

You knew it would be risky to have other agents, you and Leon at the same table. Add alcohol into picture, and the risk is high. But not inviting a person you owe at least half of the number you’re celebrating to, would be even more suspicious.

Little did you know, the reason why it was the worst idea ever never even crossed mind. The topic of you two wasn’t brough up until most of the guests left, the bar was almost empty, it just you and some of the agents who knew Leon “forever”, to quote them.

“So, Leon keeps snatching up all the ladies?” – came from one of them.

You had no idea if they knew anything or simply insinuated, so you looked taken aback. That’s when the guy added, - “Oh, I’m just kidding. I know Leon does not shit where he eats, not after Ada Wong!”

You didn’t know what to process first. To be relieved you were off the hook, to be disgusted by the phrasing, or to pay attention to the way Leon’s face changed after the mention of the name. He said the guy’s name sternly. A warning.

“Oh sorry, hit a nerve. He doesn’t talk about Ada.” – he finished his beer before adding, - “Would you believe our Mr. Cool over here fell for an enemy out of all people? Now he’s above it all, sure. Let that bitch walk all over and still-”

Leon stood up, - “Shut it. And take her name out of your mouth. You know nothing.”

It was your cue to deescalate the situation, but you just sat there. Silence filled the bar, and Leon walked out.

The guy who brought it up whistled, - “You’d think he’d be over it by now.”

“Hopeless romantic, that one” – cackled another, - “You must be used to his temper by now.” – He looked at you knowingly.

Before they left, you said that you’re were going to stay for a while, you had some business with the bartender. And you did, asked him for something stronger than beer.

At first you waited for Leon to come back, not letting any thoughts seep into your head. It wasn’t the best idea. You were better than this.

Did they know? Did they suspect? Was it their way to warn you?

You knew of Ada Wong, not much. Clearly not enough. It didn’t matter.

Didn’t it?

Whiskey never eased your thoughts, just made them flow more freely. It was a mistake to drink more after what happened. Another mistake.

Was it all a mistake? A thousand thoughts you desperately tried to keep at bay broke the dam and flooded your mind.

So that’s what it was about. Not about you, just him falling back to his habits. How could you judge? You weren’t exactly exhibiting a golden standard of professionalism yourself. It’s not a big deal. You both knew it wasn’t a big deal since the start, on the same page. Were you?

Suddenly everything felt disgusting, the bar, waiting for him felt embarrassing. Your thoughts right now, your dreams earlier. God, you were stupid.

You paid for the drinks and headed out. Bartender asking you something, as you turned to leave, not even listening. That was rude. Disgusting behavior.

It will all go away in the morning. It’s just too much information. Not enough information. Most people your age had past relationships; Leon was a couple years older. It’s not a big deal, he’s a young man with needs.

And you were just there to aid him with that. You had needs too. It was convenient and fair. Never gave any promises. Except that you did.

A lot of silent promises, it was convenient. Didn’t have to follow through if the only person who knew of them was you. Falling asleep was a challenge. You prayed for sleep to take away these thoughts. These feelings. You begged for a clean emotional palette in the morning.

But morning felt heavy on you on your shoulders. Sticky thoughts clinging to your consciousness and spreading like a disease. Embarrassing, grotesque, ugly.

You did your best to pick right through them and cage unwarranted ones. You were an adult.

So what, he had an ex. So, he didn’t want to talk about it with others. So, he didn’t want to be mocked. So what? It makes sense.

Was it because of her? What was it? You wanted to interrogate him, to strap him down to a chair and to get it all out of him. Make him confess it all to you. You deserved it. He owed nothing to you. You were way too mature to think like that.

You knew it was unhealthy since the start, you never learn. You needed a reality check. It felt like a slap in the face; hot, burning. Shame.

You were stupid enough to think you were special. You were stupid enough to overthink it now. Always overcomplicating. Was she the ghost in your eyes?

It wasn’t about you, it was your curiosity that made you walk into the office, wasting your day off, finding the intern you used to flirt with. By the time he got a promotion. Cut his hair differently, training weathered his frame a little, a beard making it's way to his face. Almost handsome. You tried your best to gather a crush, to cling to some dignity. It wasn’t all about Leon, your mind was capable of thinking of other people as well. And when you asked ex-intern to get you all info on Ada Wong he could find, it wasn’t about Leon as well. It was about your case. You saw him as a puzzle after all, it wasn’t personal. Just a curiosity.

Leon looked unaffected, if you weren’t there that evening he got all insulted over a mention of his ex-whatever, wouldn’t have a clue. He’s good at hiding. What else is he hiding? You thought you had your clues, not one.

Reading Ada’s files made you feel stupid. You kept thinking to all these times you thought it was sweet of him to care about you, to train you. You thought he liked feeling like he had something to teach, something to show. You were wrong, if Wong was what he wanted, he found your training sessions pathetic at best. She was better than you, better than him. Is this what he liked? You were so stupid. She was beautiful, not in the way you were.

You learnt all about how she wrapped Leon around her finger, he messed up. It was pathetic of him, embarrassing. You tried your best to transfer those feelings onto him, to project. It didn’t work. He wasn’t pathetic, he was this hopeless romantic with a ghost of a lover in his eyes. A woman who managed to steal her way into his heart even after betrayal. That wasn’t pathetic. You were, collecting any piece of information about her that you could. Now that was pathetic.

How you wanted to solve this puzzle, convinced that once you do, it will let you go. Set you free. You couldn’t possibly spend much longer on his leash. Tracking all your thoughts to him. To her.

They made you feel sick. You hated her for disrupting your fairytale. You hated him for not playing his part right. You hated yourself for allowing this fairytale to take roots.

It was stupid. You had so many guys after you in university, so many people at work who’d die to ask you out. You had all the cards when it came to dating, and you knew it. But you felt stupid and ugly. It was like all the miserable scenarios; all your jealousy seeped its way through your skin and you had to wear it heavy on your face. Ugly.

He ruined everything. He was not responsible for your feelings. You took pride in your emotional intelligence. Even that, he managed to take away from you. It was all tainted.

You weren’t jealous, just disgusted with yourself. Ashamed of being naïve. Ashamed of your thoughts and reactions. Was it even her real name? Ada Wong. Seemed fake. She surely made that up, who in their right mind uses a real name with a job like hers? If you can even count it as a job.

You wondered if Leon knew her real name. He knew of her nature, knew what she was doing for a living, he killed people for less. And yet couldn’t stand someone speaking badly of her. Left you alone.

Maybe it was a way to escape the conversation, maybe he knew something, knew these people and knew they would dig to find the truth about your affair if he stayed. This had to stop. You couldn’t afford to advocate for him just to justify your lack of maturity. You had sex because you were two adults in close proximity who happened to find each other attractive enough. That was it. Any complications will only hurt down the road.

The urge to shut off and be cold was as immature as it was natural. You could not force yourself to be any different. Couldn’t let go of the only shield that you knew, even though you knew it was childish, you knew it was wrong. You know it, you knew it all. You were smart. You were beautiful, you were capable and daring and independent. Why on earth did you do this to yourself?

You were miserable.

You had to let this go. It was in your head. Ada Wong was nowhere to be found, she was an evil, horrible person who betrayed people, a criminal with no regards for anything other than money. If Leon fell for it, he’s pathetic. You had a moral high ground in the situation regardless of any circumstance. At least you weren’t a criminal. The days you spent in therapy came to your mind. That was unethical, not illegal. It would be considered illegal in some states.

You weren’t a bad person.

Seeing Leon on duty was easier than you anticipated. Acting like you didn’t drag your dignity through the mud was harder, but you managed. Made it work.

A little more quiet than usual, but it was fitting for the mission. You flew over to another country to assist Secret Service agents responsible for president’s safety by tracking down the shooter. They knew assassination attempt was planned, but couldn’t risk to let it be carried out, so you had to track down whoever was smart enough not to die by being too bold, but dumb enough to be entangled in this mess. Not very physically demanding for the most part, a lot to do with getting into the head of someone who puts their life on a line to do something stupid.  

Daytime shows always portrayed these criminals as some genius people who had a plan and an ideology. Reality was disappointing; it was mostly poor people with no education, desperate enough to do any “job” for a promise of money they never end up seeing.  Their handlers weren’t much smarter, bribed to organize the mess you had to take care of because violence pays.

They were all stupid at the end of the day, putting their lives at risk for money. Just like Ada Wong. She was less stupid than your regular criminal, had to give her that. Maybe that’s why she was able to leave such a lasting impression. She’s just like a daytime TV drama character.

So smart and horrible, but since she’s sexy and rich, it can all be forgiven, it makes her cool. Was she rich? No idea, but she had to be, a lot of money involved in the field, if you can even call it that. Surely, she was sexy, you saw the photos that were in the system. Studied the 3D model of her face that was created to identify her under all the wigs and disguises just in case. You looked at her face for hours imagining Leon kissing her lips, what it would feel like. Desensitize yourself, so you don’t get visually bothered next time someone brings her up. To understand him better, perhaps, he was just a puzzle at the end of the day. You were invested as a phycologist; it was essentially just research.

“Missing the action?”

“What?” – you looked at Leon, who was setting up yet another spyglass set (that looked more like a telescope fit to see what was happening on Mars) in the empty apartment you were stuck at.

“Looks like you’re not enjoying our little getaway.”

“That’s not a getaway, Leon, we’re on duty.”

“Could be worse.” – a sly smile as he adjusted the lens, eyes hidden by the steel tube.

Fuck, he was hot. You knew better than to open your mouth, feeling the word vomit coming up. You were going to mention her name, if you kept talking. This whole thing turned into obsession that wasn’t healthy. Let it go.

There are ways to process those emotions. Therapists can provide valuable assistance in dealing with feelings of jealousy over a partner's ex by offering various strategies and approaches. You’re capable.

Understanding Emotions. Exploring and understanding the roots of this jealousy. Was it insecurity? Fear of abandonment? You had nothing to be insecure about. And there’s no abandonment if you weren’t an item in the first place. Knowing someone could be this close to you and not head over heels might have hurt your self-esteem. So, he was kissing your neck as your bodies collided, but it wasn’t enough to forget another woman. Like you weren’t that special. That hurt, we all want to be special. Sometimes you felt your pride suffer when a barista ignored your smile as they gave you your coffee. That rarely happened, maybe once. But you still remember. It was an issue to work on. Nothing to do with Ada Wong.

Cognitive Restructuring. Cognitive-behavioral techniques were useless on you, you had no irrational thoughts. You got high on feelings, got hurt, humbled and it was an uncomfortable situation to deal with. Your negative thought patterns associated with jealousy were mostly about your pride. It wasn’t about other people. They had no control over you.

Communication Skills. There was no point in talking about something you created in your own head. You were not in a relationship with Leon, you did not know the Wong girl, whatever her real name was. It was about you and your self-esteem issues. Thinking it through was enough.

So, building self-esteem was the way. What were you defined as that you took most pride in? It used to be your academic achievements. You gave it up. Your job? Where you really any better than hired criminals who put their lives at risk for someone else? Where you really that much better than Ada fucking Wong?

There was no pride in your job anymore. Daytime TV lied and you weren’t even the best at what you were doing. Did you find pride in your looks? Yes, but now that you were used as a fuck doll, it was pretty hard to do it. Your maturity and emotional intelligence? Not when you were crushing out because a co-worker you screw for fun has an ex he didn't manage to get over. As if it matters in any capacity. Ridiculous how you let yourself get so low. All this inadequacy and competitiveness was a result of doing a job you did not even like anymore. A burnout.

Mindfulness and Emotional Regulation. You had to regulate any and every ugly thought, filter your goddamn mind. No more wallowing.

Setting Boundaries. It wasn’t even an affair; you were just helping each other to blow off steam. You had to trust each other with your bodies at work, it worked. Could trust each other with your bodies off work; not a big deal.

Had to reframe the relationship in your head. Remind yourself of the frame.

Comparative Analysis. Ada was nowhere to be found. Hiding like a criminal, that she was. And you were there. There was no way she could realistically get in the way of you living your life, and even if that happens? She can have him and moody ass any time. You do not need his energy bringing you down anyway. She can play these mind games with him; you just liked the way his body felt. The rest was hormones, you must’ve been very hormonal when you made all these things up. And you analyzed him because you missed your true calling.

Finally, the curse is broken. You took a sip of hot green tea, relaxing into the sofa in your hotel room. It was nice to be back, to not feel guilty, to finally make sense out of everything.

A knock on the door. Leon, Leon, Leon. So predictable. You debated opening the door for a split second before realizing that it’s a perfect opportunity to prove to yourself that you can finally trust your mind to not act like a lunatic. Essential even.

“Hey, I thought…” – he couldn’t finish his excuse, before you grabbed his shirt and tugged him inside, put him up against the wall. He looked at your hands, taken aback slightly; like it wasn’t what he came for. So charming, just how you like him.

You kissed his jaw, broad kisses travelling down his neck, - “Now that’s a gateway”, - you smiled as your hands dropped to the belt and felt up his thighs, teasing.

“Yeah…”, - he swallowed, throwing back his head slightly. Like he was contemplating something. You felt his neck move under your lips and it made you think of all the ways his body could move, will move in few minutes, the bottom of your stomach feeling tense, - “I thought… Had to check up on you” – he hissed as you bit above his shoulder.

“Check up on me, huh? I got a couple ideas…” – the hands on his pants circling closer to bulge that was very much prominent at this point.

“You must have some ideas” – he let out a breath, brows knitting slightly, - “Spent so much time at the office lately.”

You laughed, so silly. Did he keep track of your whereabouts? Waited for you to be available? – “Mhm… I have friends there.” – the circle came to a point and you palmed him, squeezing lightly.

“Like that Niall guy? What’s his name?”, - he tilted his head down to look at you, fast enough for you not to see it coming, you found yourself scared you might accidently kiss his lips. It terrified you for some reason, so you sank lower.

And lower, - “You’re thinking about me with Niall?” – slowly stroking the outline clear under his clothes, - “Does it turn you on?”

“What?” – he made a face, scrunching his nose, - “No”.

Hilarious, - “What about us three together?” – a frustrated huff through the nose, - “What about us three but with another girl?” – you picked up the pace, undoing the belt with a free hand, it was so entertaining riling him up, all this frustration, he could let it all out on you.

He called your name in that assertive tone that you liked, made you laugh as you licked the skin between the pants and a shirt, - “What if it was Ada Wong?”

He said your name again, catching both of your hands in a tight grip. Had to ruin all the fun.

“Come on, what now?” – you whined, rolling your eyes.

He yanked you up to your feet and looked at you. Studying, disappointed, accusing. What did you do?

You started at each other for a moment. You didn’t do silent treatment. “What?” – you repeated, this time more genuine annoyance in your tone, - “Use your words, Leon, fuck. I’m too tired for this.”

That look of a disappointed parent. Or a pet owner, - “Get some rest then.” – so full of it as he set in motion.

“No need to react this way, threesomes aren’t for everybody.”

“And don’t,” – he closed the door before lecturing you more, - “Don’t ever mention her name."

“Fine!” – you exclaimed, raising your eyebrows, - “Jeez, thought she made you hard, didn’t know she was such a boner killer.”

“You don’t know anything about her.”

“Fine! And I don’t want to!” – he wanted to act like an angry dad, you could match. It didn’t sound at all like you wanted, you didn’t have the authority in that scream to back it up; so, you stood there in silence for a slip second, - “Get out.”

The sound of the door closing felt like a punch to the core, a sob coming straight from your ribs before you chocked it with a hand to mouth. Pressing hard, tears flooding your fingers, tickling.

So fucking stupid. Everything was so fucking stupid. It hurt that you were just another fling at work, yes. But it hurt more that she wasn’t.

You hated her. You couldn’t bring yourself to hate him. You wanted to die.

The pain in his eyes, the disappointment. Did she do this to him? The ghost in his eyes? Was she the one who could make it go away? The burn in your chest rang up your ears and breathing got harder.

If she was so dear to him, you’d find her. Set them up together. And then you’d die. Horribly. You’d fall off a cliff, rocks breaking every bone and smashing away your body parts and then some… Some wild dogs would tear you to pieces and he’d watch. And before the fall someone would shoot you like ninety times. Straight to the heart, and then you’d fall. And as those wild dogs ate your flesh, they’d growl loudly. And he wouldn’t care.

He would be happy with his glorified criminal knowing that you died for it. And you’re the only reason he got to be happy. And it would… It would haunt him forever. He would look at Ada and see your ghost. Finally, she would be the one dealing with the ghost of you staring back from his beautiful eyes.

You were mature and rational. And you’d rather be dead than live through this.

You never learned how to lie to yourself, no matter the effort. It was never meaningless to you; it was larger than what you allowed yourself to dream of. And he was never a puzzle.

He was the only person who made you feel like you had nothing to prove. Like you were worth the effort with no payback. And you had such deep respect and love for him. It hurt to admit. Knowing that your feelings were yours alone. It hurt to know that truth.

That all these times he trained you, he missed his very much skilled lover. That every moment that was meaningful to you, was just a distraction for him.

You didn’t want to be small, your ego was through so much, but maybe it was the lesson you had to learn. To let go of that thing that stalled you every time you made a mistake.

You weren’t special, nobody cares if you’re in the right, if you’re better, smarter, ethical. So, it’s okay if you fall short. That you’re going to live through this.

You are going to live through this.

Last day of the mission the weather was mockingly good. Feathered clouds hugging the sun just enough to soften the rays that danced on the ground as if they were playing hide and seek with the wind. Daytime TV always matched the weather to the feelings of the main character. Maybe you weren’t. Not even special enough for the weather to reflect your turmoil. It made you smile, the realization. Bittersweet, but you could handle knowing this truth, so you could handle the rest.

Leon was even more brooding than ever, weather didn’t pick him as the main character either. You were both doomed. Warm wind merrily moved his hair, as if it was pleading “Play with me, play with me, Leon!”. He didn’t care for it.

Leon noticed you looking at him, tucking his radio set in a pocket, he was about to say something when you interrupted, - “I’m quitting.”

The wind decided to try you this time, tickling your face by messing up the hair and exposing your neck, you smiled. That wind reminded you of a little kid. You weren't in the mood to play, sorry.

Leon nodded, said “Okay, we’ll get back to that” and picked up the radio set. Just like he would if you weren’t there. Just like he will.

Sure, but there was nothing to discuss. He could go back to whatever he wanted.

The flight home was silent. It was nice to be on a plane for a change, a private jet, not being thrown into the helicopter. You realized you never got to say goodbye to those views out of that noisy flying box. You never knew your last helicopter work transfer would be your last the last time you were there. Funny how things work. You have it all figured out and before you know it, everything changes and you don’t know whose body you’re in. Who is this strange person? What will this person do? Will it feel familiar ever again? Will it feel like home inside your skin?

Your blue-eyed partner spent the flight staring at the window, deep in his thoughts, up until he decided to occupy the seat next to you, leaving quite a bit of space, like you might not be safe to get close to.

“Hey…” - his voice soft, you’d like to remember that voice instead the one that he used earlier, - “Listen… Did something happen? Is it your family? Did something happen at home?”

The tenderness in which he carefully approached almost surprised you. You looked at him.

“You’ve been… I’ve never seen you like this. Noticed for a while… Now you want to quit.” – he glanced and looked away, not to pressure, - “You know, you can tell me”.

You slowly shook your head, - “Nothing happened.”

Silence once more claimed the cabin. It was comforting to have him around, not too close, just there, - “You spent so much time at the office lately. Reading, studying… Do you miss it? Want to go back?”

You looked at him, indifferent yet with so much pain in your eyes, tired, raised your shoulders in a little shrug. You looked so broken.

“You know… I understand. I had my moments… I was the best at the academy, put my all into it, and when I… When I graduated and it hit me that you can’t always measure… How good you did something…”

He was truly good. You could never paint him a villain in your story. Not even when he hurt you. He managed to find the root of the problem, you missing the career you left behind, dodging every shameful detail. Took your time spent studying as something upstanding instead of what it was, dignified your most embarrassing lows. You really loved him. And it tugged on your shattered heart.

“What are you doing?” – you asked him kindly, his attention fully yours, - “You don’t have to mentor me…” – you reached out and put your hand on his, comforting. It was okay.

A warm look, those blue eyes studying yours, looking for something, - “I’m not…”

“It’s okay.” – Gave him a bittersweet smile.

He took your hand in his. Strong warm fingers, brushing carefully, - “The sky is going to be lonely without you, Dove.” – you hummed, humoring the joke, - “I’m going to be lonely.” – he added, it hurt.

You sighed, - “You’ll find another.” - Took your hand away, - “You and the sky.” – There was no malice in those words, you truly meant it, - “After all it’s not your first affair at work. Won’t be last.” – it was comforting to finally accept it. Accept it to the point where you could say it and not feel rage. It broke your heart, but you’d learn how live with it. It wasn’t your first affair at work as well, after all.

Silence was cushioned by the mellow sound of the engine, white noise; after some time, he got closer and you put your head on his shoulder. He kissed your head as you pretended to fall asleep. It was something that will always stay with you. Had no photographs, it was too late to borrow his clothes, nothing. Just this one memory that wasn’t tainted by jealousy. That wasn’t butchered by an autopsy and fragmented into pieces to be devalued in a shrewd attempt to glue your ego back together. And it was nice. He was nice. It was okay.

You sat up straight when you were convinced that Leon fell asleep, looked at him, expecting to memorize his features. To your surprise, he was awake, completely still. You could swear his eyelashes were more matted than before. Your poor baby, it wasn’t worth it.

“You know… Ada.” – his voice heavy. Oh. Well, perhaps that was worth it. Perhaps she was, - “We met… Few times. She was the one who took something from me. Made it impossible to care for others.” – That explains it. Finally, the puzzle is coming along. Your goal is about to be complete and there’d be nothing left to do here. You almost didn’t want to know all the answers of why he couldn’t ever care about you, - “I spent years thinking I gave my heart in vain. I was so sure all I was good for was to be used.” – hearing him say that was devastating, - “But when I met her again. I figured it wasn’t like that. She saved me, more than once. More than in one sense. She really cared. She did. But she couldn’t act on it, fully, because she wasn’t free. It wasn’t me who was good for nothing. It was her, refusing to let go of her cage. I owe it to her, recognizing that there’s something worth breaking the rules and cages for, and if you don’t…”

“You embody the cage that trapped you?”

He nodded, - “Hollow.”

You wanted to move to hug him, to hold his hand, anything, but he wasn’t done.

“So, I owe it to her. Nobody gets it. I owe it to her to not end up the same. I know that she l…- “– he bit his lip, angry at himself for some reason, - “She loved me. I know it. She had love in her. And she walked away from it. So, I promised myself not be like that.” – there was a build up in his tone, what seemed to be a sob story about his one true love, was revealing itself a charged speech that was about to go off, - “So you may it call an affair, us, but I cannot agree with this. I don’t. And if you want to treat it that way, it’s your call. But you have to be honest with yourself.”

That was a lot to process. A lot of cracks in your theories to fill. What kind of strategy is this? What was he getting you into? This is disruptive, it made you uncomfortable.

“Understand that. I care, okay?” – he nudged your shoulder, - “Whatever it is, you can tell me. I’m all ears.”

That last phrase sounded a lot like “I’m all yours” to you at first and when the realization of what he actually said hit, you found yourself looking for an escape from that corner he got you in. You’re hearing what you want to hear again. That’s unhealthy.

That man didn’t even belong to himself. Despite what he’s saying, he’s a lot like Ada, a thought ran through your head. He saw so much of himself in her, and he didn’t like it. He must’ve seen enough of goodness in her to not give up on himself in that case. You spent so much time cursing the woman who in actuality convinced him to care about you, if you buy what he says. Did he have a reason to lie? Where you becoming just like them? Jaded.

Above all, she saved his life. You owed it to her. And in that moment, it hit you all at once. The stress you’ve been under. The idea of Leon dying, not being able to talk to him again, to touch him. Ada Wong and her love that she never got to share. Was it fair that she saved him for someone else? Where was she? How was she? Were you experiencing ego death?

Your eyes hurt, tears filling up the corners, chocked up, - “I’m so tired.”

Leon must’ve pulled you in, because for a moment, the world narrowed down to black, feeling of wet cheeks against a fabric, the sound of your heart pounding in your ears, temples pulsing, and it smelled like him. Must’ve been an awkward position, couldn’t tell where your limbs were, but you felt his hands caressing the back of your head, rubbing your back; you stayed like that till you breathing evened out, and you wiped your face, standing up and excusing yourself to go wash your face.

When you came back, he offered you a water bottle without saying a word.

Lingering sadness in the air. What a wild mess. Who are you going to be when you walk out of the jet?

“How can I help?” – poor guy looked genuinely worried, was probably convinced something bad happened and you were going through a lot. Maybe you were.

You shook your head and he dropped it.

Usually, he’d carry the bags with equipment out to the storage facility once you land, a courtesy to the staff. This time he followed you, calling your name and on land you felt more strangely claustrophobic next to him, more so than in a tiny cabin in the skies, so you quickened you pace, hearing him call your name. Dangerously bad at goodbyes, so much for being mature, you just took off and ran. You wanted out.

Leon caught up to you, trapping you in an empty hallway, both of his hands against the cold white walls, your shoulders in between, didn’t touch you, but you knew you couldn’t get away easily. You whined and closed your eyes, when will this interrogation stop? You wanted to sleep.

He got closer, studying your swollen face intensely, traced your jawline with his nose, pressed a soft kiss onto your lips, the corner of your mouth, to the side of your nose, you tried to push the man away; your palms on his chest, but he grabbed your hands by the wrists and pinned them to a wall, next to your face. So dependent and reactive, every time one of you got tougher, the other got weaker. It was obvious what was coming, you had no strength in you left to fight it, it wasn’t clear why you were fighting it to begin with. He kissed your lips, soft and intimate. A deep kiss, slow, it was the most vulnerable thing between you to this day. Heartbreaking, for no reason at all. His hand, cupped your face, as soon as he felt tears on the lips, then he took your face in both, - “Fuck, not this…” – he kissed your cheeks, stroking your jaw; rough hands suddenly tender and careful, - “Please, baby…”

You clung to his neck, hiding, gripping, he picked you up, held closely, before sliding down the wall, squeezing you in his arms, like you’d fall apart if he were to let go. It was true.

You were so scared of letting go of the life you grew to be familiar with. Scared of starting it all again. Scared of facing the truth that running away from problems was the biggest problem of them all. Scared of letting another person in, the one who had too much power over you, who had an affect on you so profound you were no longer the one in control. Scared of not letting him in and ending up alone. Scared of loud noises because of all the blood and the pain. Scared of this job traumatizing you for life for no good reason.

Someone appeared from the left side of the hallway, you heard rushed footsteps echoing and a worried voice, - “Is everything alright?”

Scared of footsteps.

“Need a medic.” – Leon’s voice firm, full of urgency.

You felt like you were going to die.

You didn’t die though, and no one did. Got looked at, got a strong prescription, got sent home. Got a service dog, kept you active as well as safe and alert when it got worse. Leon loved that dog, sometimes it even made you slightly jealous, making you laugh at how immature you could be. You quit. On your way of getting a PhD, working on most severe PTSD cases and yet still sometimes jealous over the silliest things like your boyfriend paying too much attention to your dog. It was hard to stay jealous through, catching Leon’s adoring eyes every now and then as he watched you. And he loved watching you; as you were studying, writing, doing chores, cooking, walking, playing with the dog. You never wondered what was it, never tried to read his mind. His mind was his and you trusted him with it. Couldn’t see far enough into the future, but you trusted him with it too.

_____________

I typed a lot straight to tumblr at the end there and if doesn't go through i'm gonna kms bc it will be lost forever

[nightplvmes]

⋆｡° | winter ball date

⋆｡° | pairing : caleb x fem!reader/childhood friends | sfw, fluff, MDNI!

⋆｡° | word count : 1,200

⋆｡° | author’s note : this is an au, i think. i didn't want to put their ages, so you guys can imagine any age you want.

– likes and reblogs are appreciated!! :)

★ masterlist here

Caleb knocked on her bedroom door again. She hadn't left the room all day, and he was worried because she needed to eat. She had to eat sometime, right?

"I know you're there, I can hear you breathing," he lied. How could he hear her breathing when there was a huge wooden door between them? But maybe what he said worked, because the door opened almost immediately. A teenage girl, frowning, stood in front of him.

"You're lying," she said with a mix of confidence but there was that tone of doubt in her voice that told him she had no idea if Caleb was lying.

"I brought this for you." Caleb handed her a book, and he knew he'd done something right because her eyes lit up as she took it. She read too much, he had heard about something new she wanted to start reading and he knew her favorite authors well enough to know what to choose. She narrowed her eyes and stepped aside to let him into her room. "Will you tell me what's going on, or do I need to buy another book?"

She sighed, looking at the pretty book in her hands, and nodded, taking a seat on the edge of her bed. Caleb followed her a few seconds later. "The guy who wanted to ask me to go to the winter ball said no." She grimaced and did her best not to show her concern. It was her first winter ball; she'd never gone to one before.

"He did what?" Caleb's voice sounded a little angrier than he wanted. Who could reject her? He had to take a breath before speaking again to sound calmer. "Why did he do that?"

"He said he already had someone, but Cherry said she overheard him talking to his friends about not having someone yet." She frowned in confusion. She knew he'd lied. "I think I would feel better if he had just said no." She sighed as she looked at Caleb. He never attended school dances, she'd never seen him out with a girl, and she wondered if he'd ever liked anyone.

Minutes passed, both of them silent. Caleb's mind was racing; he felt bad seeing her sad. Plus, he knew how excited she was about that stupid ball because she'd talked about it nonstop and Grandma had promised to help her buy a pretty dress. "I'll go with you," Caleb blurted out, taking a couple of seconds to realize what he was saying.

She looked up, something sparkled in her eyes when she heard his words, but she tried not to get too excited. "You don't even go to the same school." She frowned, Caleb had graduated a year ago and she still had a little while left before graduating too. "You don't have to do that, Caleb."

"But I want to" he interrupted her before she could say anything else. One of his hands slid to take hers, he knew that comforted her, she always sought to touch his hand in any situation. "Besides, you'll be the most popular by taking an older guy."

She let out a giggle of excitement and felt happiness on her chest.

She was a little disappointed that Grandma wouldn't see her pretty dress, she didn't even know where she had gone, nor did she know what she had talked to Caleb about when they seemed to be arguing the night before. For a second she was afraid that her going out to the ball would be cancelled.

But now she was there, walking down the stairs as she ran her hands down her blue dress to get any wrinkles out of the fabric. It was no big deal, or at least that's how she felt. It was a simple dress, appropriate for someone her age. The hairstyle she didn't consider to be a big deal either, she had done it herself, she had just made waves.

"Caleb?" He turned at the sound of his name and had to clench his jaw to keep from blurting out all the compliments he had in mind. She always looked cute, with those apple clips she wore in her hair or even last week when she'd had a terrible cold for three days.

"You look so pretty." He smiled holding out his hand for her to take, something she did immediately. She liked compliments but there was different in the compliments made by Caleb.

"Thank you" she murmured. The night air hit her, causing her to cling to Caleb's arm. She was nervous but didn't know why.

She felt a little guilty that she had taken Caleb there. Everyone were dancing, some were talking, and she was just there, on one of the tables, playing with a bracelet Caleb had given her two years ago and had never taken off since.

"You can go dance," she spoke suddenly causing him to turn his face towards her, confused. "Lizzy has had her eyes fixed on you. She once said she liked older guys, you can dance with her." She shrugged. Well, Caleb wasn't that older but he was stil an older boy, didn't he?

"I came with you."

"But I..." She grimaced. She wasn't doing anything, the looks on both of them when they arrived had made her feel more shy than she already was. "I'm just sitting here, you can go dancing without me."

Caleb was silent for so long that she was sure that he would listen to her. Anyway, he didn't do it, a hand reached out in front of her and then Caleb's voice reached her ears. "Come on."

"Where?" she asked in confusion.

"Let's dance."

"Caleb, I don't know how to dance."

"That doesn't matter." He didn't wait for another excuse and took one of her hands to lead her to the dance floor. She had to close her eyes for two seconds and try not to think about the eyes and looks on them. "Just...move to the beat of the music," he said, so calm, as if all eyes weren't on them.

Caleb could dance? Sometimes he danced with her when they heard music but it were silly dances that no one saw and- can't be possible.... "What are you doing?" she asked as she saw the silly way he moved.

"Dancing." He shrugged as he continued to make silly moves that made her laugh.

It took her a couple of seconds to finally get rid of that embarrassment that filled her and try to move to the rhythm of the music or at least to the rhythm that Caleb was setting while she let out a few laughs. Suddenly she forgot about everything around her, the looks that had made her nervous and it was just the two of them.

Caleb had heard her talk about this dance about six times in the same week. She was too excited but little did she know that her shyness would end up causing her to sit and drinking the same apple juice for at least the first hour of the night.

And yet he had found a way to brighten her night, even if it meant he could make a fool of himself.

[rackmount-official-my-ass]

Heyo, I feel you. I'm a boots-on-the-ground server tech for a hyperscaler and I had a breakdown a couple years back while working Possibly The Worst new region deployment we've ever done, worse than the time we hired randos off the street to run fiber (or so I'm told). I learned a lot on that project, but with some company culture caveats. I think you know a lot of this post already, please forgive me for writing out everything I'm thinking for the benefit of other readers :-)

At my employer, the first thing I had to adjust to was using the phrase "not my job". I was fresh out of school and very used to ten years of doing group projects by myself. The idea that I should let someone else be responsible for part of a task was just preposterous. But that's the hard reality:

if it's not in my job description (these are laid out formally for performance evaluations), then it's not my task

if it's not a part of my role, I likely won't have the ACL permissions to complete part of it

I should escalate to any managers who are responsible for the project

There's multiple styles of escalation too:

Chat outside of ticket: very informal, only do with low-urgency tasks and with people you trust to get back to you in a timely fashion

Email: We don't really escalate via email very often here, mostly with external partners. Decent paper trail but still less reliable than a ticket log

Ping inside ticket: Moderately formal, but still only appropriate for low-urgency questions imo

Reassign the ticket: Formal, hard documentation of shift in responsibility along with timeline, use in urgent situations and/or when you don't have much faith in the new assignee responding any time soon. You can then hit the ticket with requests for updates, demonstrating that you are focused and the ball is not in your court

Open a new ticket and block this against that: Also formal, backed by documentation of timeline and ownership, good for situations where there's a major change in the type of work to be done (e.g. creating a blocking ticket for a tech to get the PN was the right move imo)

It sounds like maybe your ticketing system doesn't have a "reassign" feature though, you have to generate a new one? That kinda blows. But in a situation like this, yeah, I would reassign (however that looks) as soon as you know that there is nothing you can actually do to move the case forward. If that's assigning to a tech, great; if it's assigning to a manager as an escalation path because you can't find an available tech, that works too.

Actually---if managing work assignments isn't part of your role, you shouldn't be tracking down people to do things anyways. Here, we generally assign to a team, and the manager of the team or the techs themselves will sort out who can take it. But the bottom line is, when the ask is "put this drive in that box" and you don't have arms long enough to do it yourself (or it's not what you're trained for), the ball is not in your court and the work log should reflect that.

What I learned on that deployment trip was, the way to play the game is Cover Your Ass, which means documentation of escalation. If it's not your job, escalate to a manager who can send it to a manager who can send it to one of their people, but make sure that "I handed this off to my manager because my work here is complete" is written down and timestamped. If the client's hardware fails and you can show where you said "I have been telling these multiple managers with these names since this date every four fucking hours that this server is about to die unless we take this specific action that I physically cannot do myself", your Ass is Covered and you are golden.

In an ideal workplace, anyways. Real companies suck, and I'm grateful that my place is very good about root cause analysis and the blame game and such, and Cover Your Ass actually works here—and if everyone plays the game well, the work gets done! And if they don't, the mission fails at the weakest link, and as long as it wasn't you, you're in a better position. But you can't be the entire chain anymore, and you shouldn't be.

Sometimes—sometimes—when a manager is waffling about a decision, you can just...suggest an answer, and they might just go along with it.

The other thing I learned was to emotionally detach myself from the work. I decided early on that I wasn't going to let my career be my life, I would not tie my self esteem to how useful a company thinks I am, but this is a different thing. If a project fails, and I have covered my ass, then it didn't fail because of me, because I did my part. Maybe a teammate failed, more likely a partner team failed, maybe a manager failed to mitigate risks effectively. At the end of the day, do I really care if this data center goes up? No, not really. It's not going to improve my life. It's not going to make anyone less homeless. Business is business, it does not care about you, and you should not care about it. And if a business cares about a project, then that business will take steps to ensure its success. And if they don't take those steps, well, that's Not Your Problem (unless they fire you for no good reason).

Key company aspects that you might not have the luxury of:

Formally defined roles & responsibilities

Clear escalation paths

Ease of reassigning tickets

Reasonable decisions made by those above you in the wake of an outage

Key takeaways:

Not My Job

Modes of escalation

Cover Your Ass

Don't worry about it

Anyways, I hope someone enjoys this post or finds it enlightening :3 I'm so sorry you went through all that. Incompetence is...yeah. I just can't even.

I wonder at what point the salary-time spent by you and the techs and the managers on this ticket outweighed the cost of replacing the server from eBay with something newer and better and just attempting to copy everything out. Never mind that at RAID 5 there'd be a solid chance of another disk toasting during the rebuild and then you're SOL anyways... I also like the implicit "what are backups" vibes here. I don't like that hardware RAID tends to hide information about the downstream drives, I get it and I like the abstraction, but I also want the details, yknow?

One of the problems that came up this week is actually a problem that came up in December.

On December 15th we got a warning about disk health in a server; there is a drive that is at risk of failure.

A ticket was created for me to create a quote to replace the drive.

There was no part number associated with the ticket, and because of the type of server, there was no easy way to access configuration information online and our hardware documentation is a disaster (I have thought it was a disaster since the acquisition; I set up hardware documentation at the old job specifically to avoid issues like this and now all that documentation is gone because we didn't keep any licenses of the old job's CRM). This was not a situation where I could find a part number.

I contacted Tech Alice and asked her to check the part number on the server. Alice reported back that because the drive was part of a RAID array, she couldn't get the part number. She recommended asking Bob, and put her time entry on the ticket.

I contacted Tech Bob and asked him if he could find the part number for the drive on the server; Bob also reported back that he could not find a way to get the part number from the server, he recommended that Charlie collect the part number when he went onsite. Bob added his time to the ticket (still my ticket) and added the status "onsite needed."

Now it is December 23rd. I have messaged Charlie and asked him to check the part number when he is onsite and have added him to the ticket. I'm out of the office today, Charlie is out of the office next week. Charlie does not remember to look at the part number when he is onsite. It is the end of the year.

Now it is January 15th. We lost the first week of the year to assessments, and the second week of the year to the state and our clients being on fire - people were unable to go onsite because of all of that. Charlie is going onsite. I remind him to get the part number when he is at the client site. When he is at the client site he alerts me that actually he is at their other location, not the location with the server.

Now it is January 27th. Charlie is going back onsite, he is on my ticket, the ticket is set to onsite needed. I remind Charlie that we need the part number. Charlie does not remember.

Now it is February 6th. We have created a whole new ticket for Charlie with the *EXPRESS STATED PURPOSE* of going onsite to collect a part number for the failing drive in the server. Charlie marks the ticket as "waiting materials" and makes a note that he can't replace the drive until we order the part.

Now it is February 7th. We have explained, in writing, in Charlie's ticket that we can't order the part until he goes onsite and collects the part number, because we cannot get it because the server won't report the part number if it's in a raid array for reasons that I'll be honest I do not understand.

Now it is February 14th. Charlie closes his ticket and he and Bob pull me into a meeting. The server at the client site is so old they're not sure it's a good idea to replace the drive. Charlie has recommended that the project team quote a migration to sharepoint, which the client has expressed interest in in the past. Bob makes a note of this in my ticket. But I do not close my ticket. I do not close my ticket because I know there must be some fuckery coming. So I put my ticket to "on hold" and set it to reactivate on March 10th so that I can follow up with the project team and see if the migration project is making any progress or if we still need to replace this drive because the server drive is still failing.

It is March 13th. I have a bad week. A very bad week. My manager looks at my open tickets and asks why on earth I still have a server drive failure ticket open from December. I explain that I only have it open to follow up on the migration because the technician suggested server replacement but if there wasn't progress we should still quote a drive, but I still didn't have the part number.

My manager puts me in a chat with me, Charlie, the Project team lead, my manager, and the service team lead and asks what the fuck is going on. I paste Charlie's last update on my ticket and say that I'll be happy to quote a hard drive but I still don't have the part number.

Charlie says "Oh, I put the part number in the ticket" and pastes a photo of a drive (low light, low contrast, and blurry but with a visible part number) in the chat.

"Great!" I say, and immediately assemble a quote and find stock. Then i look back at my ticket. "But I'm actually not seeing the part number on this [my] ticket. Where was that again?"

Charlie has put the part number on his ticket, which I was never on, which he closed.

"Ah, okay. I see."

And here's where the different standards that all of us are used to using work against us.

My old job built RAID servers all the fucking time. It was totally standard, totally easy, totally sensible, and I always knew to double the number of drives we needed for the storage we got because we'd be mirroring. Because we'd be using RAID 10. Because it's robust and can take a lot of failure. A drive failing in a server configured with RAID 10 is not ideal, but it's also not a drop-everything and panic emergency. I *still* wouldn't want to leave it two months in an ideal world but I can't drive up to San Francisco and get a part number, and sometimes the world literally catches on fire.

However, these new folks use RAID 5.

A drive failing in a server configured with RAID 5 *IS* a drop everything emergency, because if one drive goes down the whole system goes down until you can replace the drive and rebuild the array, and because RAID 5 is slower than 10, this can take a very, very long time depending on how much data there is. And if *two* drives fail the data is *gone*

So.

Whose job is it to get the part number, and whose job is it to know that the server is at imminent risk of failure?

Well, now I have properly reconfigured my internal alarms about any failing server drive, but I don't understand why none of the three technicians who worked on this ticket with me didn't at any point say "hey this is an emergency" (Alice is from my old team and used to RAID 10 also, I'm willing to give her a pass) and I'm *really* confused why Bob and Charlie would recommend *not* replacing a drive in a server that is that close to failure.

(And again, I just didn't know. Believe me, I am never, ever going to shut up about drive warning tickets in the future)

And, the thing that scares the shit out of me and my manager and part of the reason why this has been a bad week and I'm having stressful conversations: What if I had just closed that ticket instead of letting it reactivate to follow up on? What if I had just marked it as done when Charlie gave me the update? It wouldn't have been an old-ass ticket in my queue that my manager flagged, it would have been a note in an after-action report when the client's server crashed.

(The client has the quote now with the statement "this failing drive puts your server at risk of failure and we strongly recommend replacing" but they haven't approved it yet because they're really cheap so I'm going to have to send it again and say "this is a mission critical part that you need to replace; your server is at risk as long as the drive is not replaced.")

So. The boss is asking "why is procurement taking so long" and really, now that I'm thinking about it - because he brought it up - how much of this really IS supposed to be my job?

[tyrantisterror]

When I was 3 years old I went to a preschool that had this little green crocheted crocodile finger puppet that was my absolute favorite toy to play with of all time. I named her Chelsea, because Chelsea starts with C and crocodile starts with C and more often than not wild animals in fiction aimed at kids have names that start with the same first letter as their species. I played with Chelsea every day, because she was my favorite toy, and because the other kids weren't really interested in her, and also because I eventually started to hide her in a special secret spot in the room so no one else would find her before I did. She was so beloved by me that when I graduated from preschool, my teachers gave Chelsea to me permanently, because it was clear no one else would ever love that little crochet crocodile as much as me anyway (in part because I hid her). They waited a few weeks after I graduated before doing it, too, and sent Chelsea with some post cards as if the crocodile had been on a whirlwind "travel the world" vacation before deciding to come live with me.

And Chelsea remained my favorite toy all through my childhood. There were others I loved nearly as much, like my Imperial Godzilla and the big red T.rex from the first Jurassic Park toy line and my tiny knockoff plush Charmander, but Chelsea always held the place of honor in my heart. She was my absolute favorite toy.

I kept a lot of my favorite toys through adolescence, even if social pressure eventually got me to give away a lot of them (and some, y'know, broke). That's obviously not surprising to you if you've followed my blog, since I still collect toys into my adulthood. But it's important to note because while I know I made a conscious effort to never throw out Chelsea every time I pared down my collection... at some point, she went missing.

I became aware of it when I graduated from high school. I was feeling really emotional about leaving that stage of my life and, y'know, becoming an adult and shit, and in that state I decided to find Chelsea to reassure myself that I hadn't entirely left childhood behind. But Chelsea wasn't there. No matter how hard I looked, I could not find Chelsea anyway.

And that was, like, devastating, because the only explanation was that somehow, at some point, I had accidentally tossed her out with some other "childhood junk" while trying to grow up and be responsible in my teen years. I had literally thrown away my childhood in a careless attempt to be more grown up.

Of course I knew she was just a toy - nothing more than some yarn twisted together in the loose shape of a crocodile, lifeless and soul-less and more or less worthless in the objective light of day. But she was also Chelsea, my best friend since i was three, my stalwart little pal, a source of comfort for most of my life at that point, and I had just... tossed her out! Like garbage! What kind of person was I becoming if I could do that to my best friend?

I was very visibly distraught, and my mom noticed. Being very crafty, she tried to find the pattern for Chelsea so she could knit me a new one. The problem is, she had no idea where to find said pattern. She checked all her books of crochet patterns, and when that failed she tried the internet, but no matter how hard she looked, she found nothing.

So my mom found the next best thing.

The original Chelsea was a tiny finger puppet, and I had "met" her when I was three. Well, I was eighteen now - shouldn't Chelsea have grown too? And as has been established, this crocodile was fond of whirlwind vacations. My mom found a pattern that looked as much like Chelsea as possible while also being a much bigger crocodile, and gifted her to me before I left for college - to show that while we can't stop the flow of time or how it changes us, that doesn't mean we have to leave it behind.

And yeah, I decided to believe it. That's Chelsea now. Yeah, I know that in reality it's a completely different set of yarn made by my mom rather than... whoever it was that crocheted the original Chelsea, but then, Chelsea was never really the yarn. She was the feelings I put into the yarn, you know? So that's Chelsea, all grown up, and still my most prized toy.

...

Flash forward... Jesus, eighteen years, holy shit. A few weeks ago I saw a post trying to identify a different crochet crocodile pattern, and thinking it was cute, I decided to try and look for it on ebay and etsy, just to see if maybe I could find it. I didn't, but do you know what I found instead?

A very familiar crochet crocodile finger puppet. An intensely familiar one, you might say. Of course I bought it. And of course I asked the seller if, perhaps, they might have the pattern for it or know where it came from (they did not, alas). And after a few days, she showed up at my house.

She's not Chelsea, obviously. For one thing, she's far too clean and fresh looking - Chelsea was very well loved, and looked the part, while this crocodile finger puppet has definitely not endured years upon years of a child's affection. And, more importantly, she's not Chelsea because we've already established that Chelsea grew up into a bigger crochet crocodile. This has to be Chelsea's younger sister, Cici.

And if I could find another of Chelsea's kind after all these years, then maybe, with a bit of luck, I might find the pattern for her, and be able to make more of them. Fill the world with Chelseas.

[esmedelacroix]

Nerd Alert

synopsis ! he’s an American football player by day and a passionate mathematician by night. She’s a well-rounded historian and writer who couldn’t evaluate a derivative to save her life. They lived in two different worlds but shared the same study room.

previous chapter | series masterlist

cw ! no use of y/n, y/n is _____, fluff, slow burn, college au, ooc sukuna, f!reader, child abuse/neglect, alcohol abuse,

fic radio ! idfc by blackbear

a/n : this one is a bit shorter. the next one is longer promise.

Sukuna lived multiple lives. In a weird way, he was so many different people depending on his environment. When acting in almost every scenario, you lose yourself.

Deep down. Under all the layers Sukuna had created to protect himself, He was a nerd at heart. He read comics in his room of Superheros fighting bad guys. It was what inspired him to workout and go to the gym. His favorite DC comic heros made him feel strong. Like he had a chance against the weird men that preyed on his mother or the ones that would try to go for him. His mom didn't give a rats ass about him. Then again she too deep into her high to realize the situation she was in.

Secretly playing Five Nights at Freddy's with his elementary school friend Nanami. He couldn't take the bullying he would receive in school if they knew he loved comics, playing weird video games, scary movies, and math. He already had enough problems whenever he looked into his bank account or went to his house.

When he started football, Sukuna found a sport he loved and could hide behind. Why be seen as weird when he could be liked by most people? Slowly, Sukuna became the kid who would agree when others said math was hard and then miraculously got an A. He became the kid who said he didn't study the night before when his dark eye bags indicated he did.

He even stopped hanging out with friends like Nanami because he wanted to hang out with his colored friends. Though he never wanted to seem like he cared for anything, he truly cared about his public image. He never wanted people to notice he was broke so he worked two jobs to afford clothes and an occasional haircut.

His heart dropped to his ass when he looked up from the essay you were helping him out with to see Toji wide-eyed and confused looking through the glass wall. He immediately burst into the room without your permission. "Dude, what are you doing here?" he questioned.

Sukuna froze. Nothing was coming out of his mouth. "We're studying. What are you doing here?" you echoed.

"I'm just doing some work. Deans are on my ass about getting my shit done to keep my scholarship."

In all the years that Toji had been friends with Toji, they did everything together. They rushed for their frat and got hazed together(Sukun ended up keeping the pink hair cus he 'lowkey fuck with it'). He opened up about his home situation and brought him to his place. Toji was the one who recommended he put his mother in rehab while he was away at college. after four years he was still mending their relationship.

He couldn't admit that he was good at school and cared about his grades. "Why don't you believe me? Ryomen's in three advanced math courses. He did all those problems on the board."

Sukuan stared directly at his laptop disassociating. he didn't know what to do or say. Here you were, very inconsiderately exposing him. "What d'you gotta say for yourself, bro?"

Sukuna looked up at Toji shocked to see him grinning widely. he visibly looked confused and Toji laughed. "I'm just playing with you I know you're smart as hell," Toji chuckled pulling out the chair across from the two of you.

"What?" he finally said.

"Dude, I'm your best friend. I suspected you were a nerd all the way in high school. You think I don't notice things? You have mad comics under your bed. You use a Nintendo too. If that's not enough proof I know you play Zelda on it when you think everyone's asleep. There was also that time I needed to use your laptop and I accidentally saw your report card," he explained.

You were impressed by how close he and Ryomen were. It completely surprised you that Ryomen was a full-blown nerd and not just some jock that was good at math and wore his prescription glasses when he forgot contacts.

"Why didn't you tell me?" he asked annoyingly.

"It was fun watching you try to act cool and hide it," Toji shrugged.

Sukuna let out a groan and sunk into his chair with his head in his hands. "I hate you," he mumbled

"Love you too bud," Toji smiled.

The three of you spent that evening studying. You and Sukuna yelled at Toji as he did his homework like helicopter parents who don't know how to parent.

The weekend finally arrived and you were in the football stadium with your friends cheering on the team. You were wearing some school merch and jeans. Your hair was in a messy bun matching Geto's as you took your seat with your arms full of snacks and drinks.

You put a bit more effort into your style and hair today. just for you to throw it into a messy bun and get ketchup everywhere.

During half-time, the team huddled and dispersed. Sukuna squeezed his after from his bottle while pouring some on his face and shaking his head to get it out of his hair. Droplets of sweat accompanied.

He looked around in the crowd and once his eyes met yours they stopped and his expression changed. It was unreadable but it changed. He scanned you and you waved. He didn't wave back he just stared and when his coach called him over he rejoined the group. You shrugged it off and continued to talk to your friends.

The second half of the game was phenomenal. everyone was connected. Sukuna was making amazing plays and the team was scoring so much that you had to sit down and take a breather for, how much cheering you were doing.

When the clock ran out, you and your friend shot out of your seats happy to see your team had one. All the guys high-fived. But Sukuna turned around looking directly at you making eye-contact facial expression still unreadable but soft around the edges.

You mouthed a 'congrats' to him you were sure if he caught before his team huddled around him.

"Don't think I didn't see the two of you eye fucking. Right in front of my salad, tsk tsk," Geto smiled looking ahead.

"Oh shut up," you rolled your eyes elbowing him.

"you like him~" he sang.

"As if."

You played things off cool, but the heat rising to your face and your bouncing leg told Geto everything he needed to know. You were crushing. Hard.

. . .

-> next part

@minasuniverse @not-a-glad-gladiator @love-me-satoru @sukunawhores @emoedgylord @domainofmarie @sadrna @lazylunarlover @tamishadawn @boudoirbae @river-vixenn @bitchyfestivalbouquet @elizabeth-von-winken-universe @clp-84 @emochosoluvr @yoongithebean @linaaeatsfamilies @magalimachete @chubbydumplingbarnes @katsukiseyebrows @sukubusss @r33m-world @pelicanpizza @mykuronekome @linny-bloggs @your-mum3000 @jayathelostdragon

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[sophie-hatter-jenkins]

Meatball

For @jilymicrofics March 2025

This could have done with a bit more editing, but I wanted to get this done for James's birthday!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“We always wanted three kids, right from the very beginning,” James tells the man, as he settles back and makes himself comfortable. 

Well, as comfortable as he can, anyway; he’s understandably nervous. Anyone would be, in his situation. 

“Harry, that’s our eldest, came along a little bit sooner than we planned,” he continues, as the man makes some notes on a clipboard. “We’d only been married four months when it happened, barely out of our teens. He’s fifteen now. Fifteen! I can hardly believe it.” He shakes his head, in fond disbelief.

The man, who is wearing a badge on a lanyard that identifies him as Ian Jenkins, hums in response, which James takes as his cue to continue. “It was tough, you know? We were so young, and having a baby was a big adjustment, so we decided to wait a while before we tried again. Lily, that’s my wife, she started taking those Mug… erm… those mug-nificent birth control pills. Said she preferred them to the methods that are popular in… uh… in our community.”

“I see,” says Ian Jenkins. “Now I just need you to—-”

James, now a little flustered after his near-breach of the statue of secrecy on top of his natural apprehension, ignores this and ploughs on with his tale instead. He’s always been a talker, especially when he’s nervous. “It was six years before Daisy came long. She’s the image of her mum, is our Daisy, red hair and green eyes. Gorgeous, her eyes are. Harry got Lily’s eyes too, but otherwise he’s basically my clone. Lucky boy, eh?” he grins.

Ian Jenkins doesn’t respond, merely brandishes his clipboard in James’s direction. “If you wouldn’t mind—

James pays it no attention. “We were a lot better prepared for it, second time round,” he explains. “I think that’s why we didn’t leave it so long next time; there’s only eighteen months between Daisy and Simon. Simon’s the odd one out in the Potter house—blond hair and blue eyes, like Lily’s mum. And her sister, actually, but we don’t like to dwell on that. I honestly thought we were done then—three beautiful kids, exactly what we wanted.” James looks Ian Jenkins in the eye, who seems rather startled.  Now, I know what you’re asking yourself!”

“Actually, I really don’t think that you—”

“What happened?” asks James, very dramatically and entirely rhetorically. “It was when Harry went off to school, you see. Boarding school, the same one Lily and I went to, up in Scotland. It hit us hard, our baby being that grown-up and independent and so far away from us. We thought—well, maybe just one more? Who knows, maybe it was just a moment of madness and we’d have changed our minds, but Lily fell pregnant almost straight away, so that was that. Four kids.”

“And that’s all very interesting, Mr Potter, but—

James chuckles. Honest-to-Merlin chuckles. “Or so we thought, anyway. Turns out, it was actually five! Twins! Can you believe it? That took a bit of getting used to, I can tell you!” He shakes his head at his own naivety. “We thought we knew what we were doing with babies by then, but twins are a whole different set of hoops… erm… yes, very different, anyway. Mia and Elspeth. Lily’s hair, my eyes, absolutely gorgeous but my goodness—they’re three now, but I feel like I’ve aged at least a decade since they were born. I love those girls with every fibre of my being, love all my kids like that, but hand on heart those two are trouble. The idea of them as teenagers is frankly terrifying. I expect they’re my punishment for my own adolescent misbehaviour.”

He grins at Ian Jenkins, who looks back blankly, and James decides that Ian Jenkins would definitely have been a Ravenclaw if he wasn’t a Muggle. “Mr Potter, I really must insist—”

“Anyway, Lily went back on those pills, and we thought that would be fine. And it was; right up until it wasn’t. No idea what went wrong this time. Lily tells me all sorts of things can interfere with them, and the next thing we know, number six is on the way.”

“Mr Potter—”

“Which is amazing, of course, we’re very happy about it. But we thought enough really is enough, and that’s why I’m here really; get it sorted before the littlest Potter arrives in a few months. We’re not getting any younger, are we, and this one really does need to be the last one.”

“Mr Potter—”

“We clearly need something a bit more foolproof, and Lily thought this Mu… uh, this medical procedure would be best. When she explained it to me, I thought she was having me on to begin with, but then she got a pamphlet for me and it’s hard to—”

“MR POTTER!” yells Ian Jenkins, finally at the end of his tether. “I really must insist that if you want to have your vasectomy today, you need to sign the consent form!”

“Yes.” James agrees, taking the clipboard at last. “I can’t say I’m not nervous about the old meatballs, but, yes, I do. On both counts.” He takes a deep breath and scribbles his signature at the bottom of the form and hands it back again. 

Ian Jenkins’s expression softens. “It’s normal to be nervous, Mr Potter. I promise it will be fine. A little tenderness, some bruising and swelling, but it will heal within a few days.”

James nods. “Even if it wasn’t, I reckon Lily’s done more than her bit for team Potter. It’s my turn to step up now.”

Ian Jenkins nods reassuringly. “If you could undress please and lie back, the anaesthetist will be in shortly.”

James does as he’s told. Yes, he’s scared, but he knows this is the right thing. 

He bloody loves his kids. But most of all he bloody loves his wife.

[seitmai]

Many thoughts

Bucky only laughed, “meet us in Louisiana. Take care y/n.” he cuts the call. Bucky’s guy was not a wrinkly old pervert, but this insanely good-looking man with great posture and a warm smile.

What a positive surprise 👀

You fumbled with your bag as he raised his eyebrows, “let me take that for you.” He offered. “Oh no, no it's fine.” You laughed out, and he raised his arms in defeat.

What a gentleman 🤭

Cass looks at him with all seriousness, “Do you play Fortnight?” Joaquin fumbled, “Yeah. A bit.” “Cool.” They both replied in unison.

That's so teenage boy coded 😅

You saw Cass and AJ grow up after the blip, and stayed with them when they needed help. You might not have the same blood, but they were your family. If this was six years ago, from the same spot you could hear Steve and Sam coming up with ideas to locate Bucky, Natasha and Clint in the backyard fighting over something stupid, Sarah and her late husband on the porch setting up the grill, and Wanda making things fly that made Baby AJ giggle.

🥰🥹🥰🥹

You opened your eyes, but found only darkness ahead of you. That sliver of hope you had of watching your found family under one roof again was alive for five years… until the minute you saw Natasha didn’t return with Clint, Wanda not even looking in your direction at Tony’s funeral, and Steve going back in time without saying goodbye.

Uff 💔

His deep brown eyes look at you as you take a sip, and he confesses, “I got a call before I came here. My Abuela.” He takes a deep breath, “She’s cooking up a feast for the local homeless shelter, and I know, I know she’s not well because her voice is raspy and she’s breathing too hard and I begged her to sit this one out, but she’s one stubborn woman, won’t even listen to her only grandson.” You shock him with a laugh, looking at the dew on your bottle, “Sounds like someone I used to know.” “Your ex?” he nudges your shoulder playfully. You laugh, “My sister actually,” recalling flashes of red hair chasing you around the Avengers compound, “yeah, she was a force to be reckoned with.”

🥺🥺🥺

“- look different?” you bring your knees closer, wrapping your arms around them, “I was adopted.” “ohhhh.” He drew out the exclamation, taking his sweet time not knowing what else to say.

I wonder what answer he expected haha

“She saved me from the Red Room. Took me under the wing, sent me to High School… God knows how that went.” You laughed recalling the absolute menace you were during your teens. “If there was mischief in school, my name was somehow related. And Nat was always there to get me out of it. Except for that one time I blew up the toilets to rebel against the dress code… said I deserved getting suspended.” The fight you had afterwards… Steve and Tony had to interfere or else you both would have torn each other’s heads off.

Just sibling things🥰

“I must be the last person you want to hear this from, but, know that the hurt you’re feeling right now, y/n,” he gently grasps your hand, “it’s just all the love you have for the person you lost. I don’t want to say it gets easier, but you get better at letting it out over time.”

That was a great answer 🥺

“No, no, Joaquin, we traveled for the entire day. We’re both tired. We can share the bed.” He was too tall to fit on the couch anyways.

Oh so there is just ✨️one bed✨️, I wonder what happens next 👀

Someone works out. You immediately slapped a hand on your mouth realizing you said that out loud. Frozen with embarrassment, you waited to see if he heard that.

Whoops 🤭😅

You huff out, “I always wanted to hike on that trail, never got the chance.” “Maybe you can come with me after all this is over.” He says coyly, nudging your shoulder, “I can show you around, we can go visit other places, Horseshoe Bend, Havasu Falls…” Y/n… just say it. He can’t be more obvious than this. You smirk, “Joaquin Torres,” he looks at you, his cheeks turning red, “are you asking me out on a date?” “Maybe… if you want to.” He looks at the ceiling, and to your amusement, you realize he was blushing, “And I promise I won’t scam you for money…” you laugh out loud, “I’m always up for hiking the trail, you know, because I work out.”

Ahhh not the call out that he works out 🤭🥰

“I went on tour to Japan, so…” you look into those chocolaty brown eyes again, his face in the sunlight makes his features stand out, your attention going to his lips. “Maybe you could take me with you next time.” He says, holding your hand, caressing the back as he looks at your lips. “Only if you want to.” You whisper, leaning in, praying you weren’t reading this wrong.

I'm sure they both want it 🥰😍

Under the Same Sky

Pairings - Joaquin Torres X fem!Reader (TFATWS AU)

Premise - You have your heart guarded for the longest time. But when you encounter a stranger on the same mission, will you be able to do the same?

Word Count - 4.5K

Warnings: Some strong language, references to Pop Culture, allusions to SMUT

a/n - I wrote this while I was falling in love with someone. This one is for everyone who ever fell in love, hope you guys have a happy ending that you truly deserve <3

“I swear to God Barnes, if this is some kind of dipshit prank you are playing on me, I’ll give your number to that sweet server lady from Yori’s Japanese place and record your introverted ass trying to strike a conversation.” You grumbled into your phone as you locked your door and walked down the stairs of yours (and Buck’s) apartment building.

After making you spill your morning coffee over the couch while telling you about him evading the country, breaking Helmunt Zemo out from prison, going to Madripor and Karli threatening Sam’s family, he had the goddamn audacity to ask for your help with the entire situation.

You were, of course, rushing to Louisiana for Sarah and the kids, because afterwards you get to murder him in cold blood.

“If this wasn’t for Sam’s family in danger, I would not have asked for you. And by the way, I am not an introvert. That’s you. Now hurry up, my guy’s waiting.” his annoyingly calm voice spoke through the phone.

“Is your guy about to be a wrinkly old pervert trying to get high by speed walking?” you almost screamed, reaching the ground floor and pulling open the back door towards the alleyway. The chill air makes you shiver a bit, and you find yourself colliding with a person, “oof” you hear a muffled sound coming from him.

“I’m so sorry- I-“ you began to explain yourself, but the other person spoke up first, “y/n?”

Your hand hovered over the concealed weapon on your waist, “uh, yeah?” you murmur, taking a step back in caution wondering how he knew your name.

“Yeah, I found her.” He speaks into his cell and cuts the call.

Dressed in casual clothes, he held a duffle bag in one hand, his eyebrows raised as he was looking at you. He smiled, waved at you, and Bucky spoke into your ear, “found my guy?”

“This is your guy?” you said pointing at him.

Bucky only laughed, “meet us in Louisiana. Take care y/n.” he cuts the call. Bucky’s guy was not a wrinkly old pervert, but this insanely good-looking man with great posture and a warm smile.

And to your horror, he was hot.

His warm, sun-kissed complexion hinted at his Mexican heritage. His hair added an air of rugged charm and you swore you never saw anyone with eyes so dark brown that drew you in instantly.

“You are…” you extend your hand after shoving your phone in the pocket of your overcoat.

“Lt. Torres.” He grimaced, embarrassed, “Joaquin. Joaquin Torres.” He extends his hand.

You shake his hand and oh god why are his hands so warm!

“Marines?” you ask, trying not to think about his hands.

“Air Force, ma’am.” He says, stepping back for you to get out of the doorway.

“Please, just call me y/n.”

You fumbled with your bag as he raised his eyebrows, “let me take that for you.” He offered.

“Oh no, no it's fine.” You laughed out, and he raised his arms in defeat.

He was walking to the end of the alley beside you, cold air escaping his lips.

Pink, soft, how would they feel on your lips and…

You concentrate on walking, trying not to look at him where his neck met his shoulders and goddammit what is wrong with you y/n can you stop daydreaming about this guy?

What you missed while giving yourself a pep talk… was the smirk on Joaquin’s face.

---

The initial car ride was a bit silent, awkward conversation hanging in the air. But then, like magic, the tension dissolved. You stumbled upon a shared love for Power Rangers and the cartoons of our youth. Suddenly, you were deep in conversation, reminiscing about your childhoods, carefree and filled with the magic of childhood. Turns out he isn’t much older than you, just a two year difference.

His laughter was infectious. The way his eyes crinkled at the corners, his teeth flashing in a wide grin – it was a sound that felt warm and comforting, somehow. You found yourself leaning towards him, captivated by the way his lips curved into a smile, the way the light caught the gold flecks in his eyes. The familiar road seemed to stretch on forever.

Finally when we pulled onto the familiar, deserted road leading to Sam's house, two small figures came into view, standing near the porch. 

“Auntie!” Cass and AJ sprinted to you as soon as you stepped out of the car.

“Heyyyy!” you laugh and fall back as they hug you with full force, “ugh, I missed you guys so much.”

“We missed you too!” AJ grinned as he refused to let go of you.

“Who's this?” Cass asked you, pointing towards Joaquin.

Among the excitement of meeting them, you almost forgot the poor guy. Joaquin stood next to the car awkwardly looking at you. You smile and introduce him, “guys this is my friend, Joaquin.”

“Hey.” He waved at Cass and AJ.

Cass looks at him with all seriousness, “Do you play Fortnight?”

Joaquin fumbled, “Yeah. A bit.”

“Cool.” They both replied in unison.

“Okay now let auntie breathe for a minute.” Sarah spoke as she walked towards you wearing an apron, clearly cooking for dinner.

You hugged her tight, meeting the family after so long, “Hey Sarah.”

You look towards Joaquin, how he was laughing with the kids. And then you look at Sarah, your soul sister, and how Bucky had asked you to break the news to her delicately, “Sarah, we need to talk.”

---

Sam and Sarah were your go to destination every summer. 

You saw Cass and AJ grow up after the blip, and stayed with them when they needed help. You might not have the same blood, but they were your family.

They have stayed away from all the mayhem, until now.

You three sat down on the kitchen table and told her everything that you knew about the situation.

“Dear lord.” Sarah sighed as she held your hand, “You think these people… they will come here?

“There is a possibility, but Sarah, I swear I won’t let anything happen, okay?” You squeeze her hand, “We’re here for you and the kids.”

Joaquin spoke up, “We have made arrangements just in case things go south, I’d suggest you to be ready to move anytime.”

“Okay.” looking at the kids playing in the living room, AJ laughing as Cass plays on the console, “I can’t let them be hurt again Y/N, they’ve been through so much.”

“I know.” You look at Joaquin, he gives you a smile and nods, a silent acknowledgement of the promise you were making to Sarah.

You will keep them safe, and Joaquin will be there for you.

---

Starry night sky, the cool lakeside breeze, and the slanted roof of the Wilson residence. 

You took a deep breath as you closed your eyes.

If this was six years ago, from the same spot you could hear Steve and Sam coming up with ideas to locate Bucky, Natasha and Clint in the backyard fighting over something stupid, Sarah and her late husband on the porch setting up the grill, and Wanda making things fly that made Baby AJ giggle.

You opened your eyes, but found only darkness ahead of you. That sliver of hope you had of watching your found family under one roof again was alive for five years… until the minute you saw Natasha didn’t return with Clint, Wanda not even looking in your direction at Tony’s funeral, and Steve going back in time without saying goodbye.

Your throat choked up trying not to cry as you recalled Natasha saving you from the hell called Red Room. She bought you up, taught you everything you know, she was the reason you were alive in the first place. Natasha was your sister in every sense, and she was taken away by fate.

Silently crying, you whisper a prayer off into the night.

“Is this seat taken?” you wiped off your eyes as you heard Joaquin.

He was standing on the attic window, two beers in hand. You shrug as he takes a seat next to you, handing you a beer.

“How did you find me?” you ask him.

“I didn’t actually,” he answers, “I just wanted a place to think for a while.” You notice the tension in his shoulders, he was trying too hard to act cool while something was clearly bothering him.

“Spit it out.” you nudge his shoulder with yours.

His deep brown eyes look at you as you take a sip, and he confesses, “I got a call before I came here. My Abuela.” He takes a deep breath, “She’s cooking up a feast for the local homeless shelter, and I know, I know she’s not well because her voice is raspy and she’s breathing too hard and I begged her to sit this one out, but she’s one stubborn woman, won’t even listen to her only grandson.”

You shock him with a laugh, looking at the dew on your bottle, “Sounds like someone I used to know.”

“Your ex?” he nudges your shoulder playfully.

You laugh, “My sister actually,” recalling flashes of red hair chasing you around the Avengers compound, “yeah, she was a force to be reckoned with.”

“She passed away a year ago.” You admit it out loud, it felt weird to talk about her in the past tense.

You feel his body go rigid beside you, “I’m sorry, I thought…”

“It’s alright.” You look at him, and smile involuntarily, “Natasha was more of a mother to me than a sister, and I can’t believe I’m saying it out loud but… I miss her.”

He acknowledges you silently. But after some time, you hear it in his voice; the moment it hits him, “Natasha… as in… Natasha Romanoff?”

It made you laugh; his jaw wide open in shock, eyes wide. He looked like his eyes would come out of his head. “I don’t go by Y/N Romanoff, for people to react like that.” You point at him and he closes his mouth.

“How… I didn’t know… but you two-”

“- look different?” you bring your knees closer, wrapping your arms around them, “I was adopted.”

“ohhhh.” He drew out the exclamation, taking his sweet time not knowing what else to say.

“She saved me from the Red Room. Took me under the wing, sent me to High School… God knows how that went.” You laughed recalling the absolute menace you were during your teens. “If there was mischief in school, my name was somehow related. And Nat was always there to get me out of it. Except for that one time I blew up the toilets to rebel against the dress code… said I deserved getting suspended.” The fight you had afterwards… Steve and Tony had to interfere or else you both would have torn each other’s heads off.

“My mom once got a call from the local ER when I was twelve.” He spoke up, looking at the stars and a smile spreading on his face, “I drove my bike off of the road and straight into the canal, and hit my head pretty hard. She was mad as hell and Abuela won’t stop fussing about me. I was grounded for the entire semester, but every night we three would sit in the living room to watch whatever was on Cartoon Network.”

There was sadness laced in every word of his, “That was the last summer I had with her. She passed away a few months later.”

You could not say anything.

You knew exactly how he was feeling right this moment, that empty feeling inside your chest left behind after somebody’s gone. You silently hold his hand, acknowledging the hurt he must be going through.

“I must be the last person you want to hear this from, but, know that the hurt you’re feeling right now, y/n,” he gently grasps your hand, “it’s just all the love you have for the person you lost. I don’t want to say it gets easier, but you get better at letting it out over time.”

“Thank you, Joaquin.”

He smiles, taking a sip from his bottle glancing at you. Dark brown pupils looking right into yours.

Damn he’s pretty.

Your heart dropped a beat, a funny feeling in your chest unblurring the next second.

The first thing Natasha and Clint taught you was how to read people. You could tell what was going on in someone’s head just by looking at their subconscious cues. A voice in your head pointing out everything you need to know about them.

It was quite silly to be honest, that voice inside your head that had been quiet for a while now, was screaming at you for not looking at what was right in front of you…

You liked him.

---

“I was not expecting that.” You speak into Sam’s empty room, standing on the doorway with Joaquin.

Cass and AJ had separate rooms, Sarah had hers, and the only empty one was Sam's, which you were to share with Joaquin.

“I’ll sleep on the couch.” He says unprompted.

“No, no, Joaquin, we traveled for the entire day. We’re both tired. We can share the bed.” He was too tall to fit on the couch anyways.

 He picked his bags and settled in, “You sure?”

“Yeah. It’s fine. No worries.”

Worries, y/n, you’re not doing this out of goodwill. I mean… His arms? Just imagine how they would look wrapped around your-

You let out an internal scream and started unpacking your luggage before you did something scandalous, freshened up in the washroom and returned to the room to see him lying on one side of the bed, his back to you, wearing only sweatpants and a white vest. Your eyes were drawn straight to his biceps, they looked like they belonged to some sculpture in the dim lamplight.

Someone works out.

You immediately slapped a hand on your mouth realizing you said that out loud. Frozen with embarrassment, you waited to see if he heard that.

When you were certain he didn’t, you took your place on the other side, and were immediately knocked out by the exhaustion.

---

Next Day

You woke up to the smell of pancakes and the shouts of AJ and Cass from the backyard. You stretched out, thinking of any tasks you had to do today. You'd helped Sarah pack a go-bag yesterday and set up the alarms around the house. The only task left was to have a look at the Attic. The clutter filled there could be the best hiding spot for anyone.

After sniffing the smell of fresh pancakes for the second time, you couldn't resist any longer. You swung your legs over the side of the bed and padded downstairs.

Sarah and Joaquin were laughing in the kitchen, the sound warm and inviting. He was wearing an Air Force t-shirt over his sweatpants, his hair still damp from his shower, and a lazy smile playing on his lips. Of course he's a morning person, you thought, a pang of envy hitting you.

"Good morning sleepyhead," Sarah called out, her eyes twinkling.

Joaquin looked up, his smile widening as he saw you. You realized, with a jolt, that you were still in your Naruto pajamas, your hair a complete mess. Panic surged through you, but when you saw him smiling at you, his eyes crinkling at the corners, you relaxed slightly.

"Morning," you mumbled, taking a seat at the table.

"Joaquin made these," Sarah announced proudly, placing a plate of golden brown pancakes in front of you. "They're incredible."

"They are," you agreed, already taking a bite. "God bless you, Sarah, these are heavenly."

"Oh, that's all Joaquin," Sarah said, pouring you a tall glass of something. "I just made the milkshakes."

"Milkshakes!" you exclaimed, your eyes widening.

"Chocolate and caramel," she said, placing the glass in front of you. "With extra cream."

"Thank you!" You high-fived her, then turned to Joaquin. "And thank you, for the pancakes."

"Anytime," he said, taking a bite of his own pancake. He met your gaze, a slow, appreciative smile gracing his lips. You swore you saw a glint of something in his eyes – amusement? Admiration? Something more? You blinked, suddenly unsure of yourself.

Is my head playing tricks with me? you wondered, your heart pounding a little faster than it should be.

---

“Can I ask you something?”

“Hmm…”

“Uhh… What's the whole deal with John Walker?” Joaquin asked while fixing a sensor on the attic window.

All afternoon you had been setting up sensors anywhere there was a blind spot. You don’t want to scare Sarah, but your gut would not be satisfied until the house was a fortress.

“It’s the government’s doing to be honest. I have a feeling it’s gonna implode royally and they’ll be doing anything to cover it up.” You looked up from your tablet, “including taking down Walker.”

“Damn.” He stopped, climbing down the window still, “you speak like you’ve witnessed this before.”

You let out a dry laugh, connecting the sensor to your tablet, “I saw the Avengers being torn apart from the inside.”

“Wait,” he tilts his head, his hair bouncing while doing so, “you were with the Avengers during the Sokovia Accords?”

“Yep.” You sit along the wall under the open window, with the sunlight pooled into the attic and cool air rushing in, and pat the space next to you, “I was eight maybe, when Natasha and Clint saved me from being an assassin for The Red Room.” You took a deep breath, “Grew up with them, I stayed mostly on the sidelines until the Civil War. Then it was three years of being blacklisted by the government and whatnot.” he takes a seat right next to you, your shoulders touching.

“Enough about me,” you look at him, “What about you? Where are you from?”

“Born in Mexico, raised in Arizona.” He looks at you, his eyes in the sunlight shining bright.

Can eyes sparkle? I’ve never seen someone’s eyes sparkle before.

“Damn. Grand Canyons, huh.” you smile as you imagined him in hiking gear.

“Yeah, I’ve been there many times and believe me… it takes my breath away every single time.”

You huff out, “I always wanted to hike on that trail, never got the chance.”

“Maybe you can come with me after all this is over.” He says coyly, nudging your shoulder, “I can show you around, we can go visit other places, Horseshoe Bend, Havasu Falls…”

Y/n… just say it. He can’t be more obvious than this.

You smirk, “Joaquin Torres,” he looks at you, his cheeks turning red, “are you asking me out on a date?”

“Maybe… if you want to.” He looks at the ceiling, and to your amusement, you realize he was blushing, “And I promise I won’t scam you for money…” you laugh out loud, “I’m always up for hiking the trail, you know, because I work out.”

You groan in between laughing, “you heard that!”

“Yeah, I heard you checking me out…”

“…I wasn’t checking you out!” you fall back on the wall, “You have nice arms. That’s all.” You try not to smirk, but you see him do so from the corner of your eye.

“That’s all? What about my sensor uploading skills?” he wavered his eyebrows.

“10 by 10. You remain undefeated.”

Silence falls over as you keep stealing glances at each other. It’s only broken when he says, “You’re really pretty by the way.”

You laugh, and nudge his shoulder, “just pretty?”

“…and a Geek, you looked great in those Naruto pajamas…”

You hide your face in your hands but he continues, “Where did you get them? Costco?”

“I went on tour to Japan, so…” you look into those chocolaty brown eyes again, his face in the sunlight makes his features stand out, your attention going to his lips.

“Maybe you could take me with you next time.” He says, holding your hand, caressing the back as he looks at your lips.

“Only if you want to.” You whisper, leaning in, praying you weren’t reading this wrong.

Joaquin took hold of your neck, his touch sending a jolt of electricity through you. He pulled you closer, your lips meeting in the middle with a soft, exploratory touch. His lips were soft, as you'd imagined, and his hands cradled your face, his thumbs gently stroking your cheekbones. Your fingers tangled in his hair, pulling him closer, desperate for more. His tongue darted out, tasting you, a low groan rumbling in his chest that sent shivers down your spine. You wanted him to do more, go further, and you pulled back slightly, your eyes searching his.

Before Joaquin could protest, you straddled him, pushing him back against the wall. His eyes widened in surprise, a predatory glint entering them. You crashed your mouth on his, this time with a fierce urgency. The soft exploration of your first kiss quickly escalated into a desperate demand, your bodies pressed together, a primal need igniting within you.

"Fuck... y/n," he groaned, his hands gripping your hips, his fingers digging into your skin. He pulled back slightly, his lips leaving a trail of hot kisses down your neck, his breath fanning against your skin. He found the sweet spot on your pulse, sucking on it with a possessive intensity that made you arch against him. You gasped, clutching at his shirt, your nails digging into the fabric.

He leaned back, his eyes closed, a blissful moan escaping his lips. "God, you taste incredible," he whispered, his voice rough with desire. He kissed you again, this time a slow, deliberate exploration, his tongue tracing the inside of your mouth, mapping every curve.

Every inch of your body seemed to ignite by his touch, time melting away. There was only him, his hands roaming over your body, his lips devouring yours, and the intoxicating feeling of desire that consumed you both.

High Pitched and Grating, a sensor alarm rang through the attic.

You retreat in shock, like two deer caught in headlights, and Joaquin grabs the tablet and sees where this was happening.

Blood drained from his face as you witnessed at least four flag smashers moving towards the Wilson residence, guns armed, maybe a mile away.

He gets up, “East side?” grabbing the tablet and locking the windows.

“I’ll get Sarah.” You reply, already on your feet rushing downstairs.

---

"Halt," Lucas whispered, his voice a low growl in the pre-dawn darkness. The team crouched low, their figures mere shadows against the backdrop of the dense forest. Sam Wilson's house loomed ahead, a beacon of normalcy in the encroaching gloom.

"I see only two people inside," Matt reported, his voice a whisper cutting through the silence. "No kids." He checked the thermal scanners, the infrared images flickering on his visor.

Artie, his face pale in the moonlight, grabbed Lucas's shoulder. "Karli didn't say anything about kids."

"She told us to bring them alive," Lucas reminded him, his eyes fixed on the house. "And they need to be unharmed for negotiation."

Nadia shifted uncomfortably, her hand tightening around the grip of her revolver. "I don't like this," she muttered, her voice laced with unease. "I didn't agree to harm any kids."

Lucas turned to her, his gaze sharp. "Nadia!" he hissed, his voice low and dangerous. "We're doing this. One way or the other. Stop whining and get to work."

He took a deep breath, the metallic scent intensifying. "One World..." he began, his voice echoing in the stillness.

"One people," his team responded in unison, their voices a low, guttural chant.

With a silent, coordinated movement, they emerged from the shadows, their figures gliding towards the Wilson residence, the air thick with anticipation and a chilling sense of foreboding.

---

"Go, go, go!" you barked, adrenaline surging through you. You snatched Sarah's bag, your fingers brushing against the cool metal of the handgun inside. You grabbed AJ's hand, his small fingers clutching yours tightly, and ushered them towards the waiting car.

Cass and Sarah were already running, their figures mere shadows against the encroaching twilight. You threw the bags in the backseat, your movements a blur, then helped Cass and AJ climb in.

Sarah slid behind the wheel, her face pale. "Y/n, what are you doing?!" she gasped, her eyes wide with disbelief.

"I have to stay here," you said, your voice firm. "Make sure they don't follow you." You shoved your Glock into Sarah's hand.

A roar from inside the house cut through the tension. "Y/n! They're here!" Joaquin's voice, amplified by the sudden silence, echoed through the air.

"Sarah, I promise I'll be fine," you said, your gaze locked with Cass's in the rearview mirror. Tears were streaming down her face, but she nodded, her small frame trembling. "You have to go." You shoved your tablet into her hands, a desperate plea in your eyes. "Remember what I told you earlier. You'll be safe here."

"Sarah, go!" you screamed, your voice hoarse.

You watched as the car lurched forward, disappearing down the dirt road that snaked towards the water. A beep on your watch confirmed her location, a fleeting sense of relief washing over you.

Phase One. Over.

Phase Two. Let's go.

You sprinted through the back door, the house suddenly feeling eerily silent. Joaquin was already there, a grim set to his jaw. He was clad in his SHIELD armor, the sleek black material gleaming in the dim light. Guns and your emergency bag lay scattered across the kitchen table, a grim testament to the impending battle. You stole a glance at the tablet, its screen flickering with life as it ran facial recognition on the figures outside.

"Ready?" you asked, your voice a low growl, as you slipped on the bulletproof vest and began loading the magazines.

"Yeah," Joaquin replied, his eyes scanning the room, assessing the situation.

You looked out the window, the setting sun casting long, eerie shadows across the yard. "Let's hope Sam doesn't sue us for destroying his house," you muttered.

A/N - Thank you everyone for sticking with me till the end of this fic! if you liked it please let me know through the asks and the comments. Love y'all, Take Care!

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[lamardeuse]

write your name on every blank page

by lamardeuse

911 || Buck/Eddie, Eddie & Christopher, Eddie & Buck & Christopher || Rated M || c. 11000 words

aka my contribution to the Eddie in El Paso post 8x11 fic wave, posted less than 24 hours before we get canon Eddie in El Paso :D

Eddie sets out for El Paso with his truck and a rented trailer full of essential items and valuables, the patio furniture the movers had forgotten to take and seven years' worth of mementos to remind him of that time he briefly escaped his parents' sphere of influence.

“I'm sorry you're going to have to buy a new bed,” he says as he and Buck stand in the doorway of his – well, soon to be Buck's bedroom.

“Yeah, there's no way I was going to fit a California King in here,” Buck says. “But it's fine. The mattress was getting kind of – uh, worn out.”

“I bet,” Eddie mutters. “Anyway, I'm sorry you've ended up with such a downgrade.”

Buck shrugs. “I don't see it that way. Your place is a lot more spacious overall. It has a yard. And it's just – nicer.”

“Is it?” Eddie makes a face. “Come on, the loft was cool.”

“Yeah, well, that isn't the selling point it was when I was twenty-six,” Buck murmurs. “The loft hasn't felt like home for a long time. Your house – it's got that warm feeling, you know?”

Eddie's breath catches in his throat at the thought of Buck rattling around this place alone, trying to find a warmth that left the day Christopher did. Trying to summon the ghosts of what they once were to one another, of what they might have been if –

“Buck, I –”

“Yeah?” Buck says softly, and Eddie can't look at him, he can't.

Instead, he turns and nods toward Chris' door. “At least you've got an extra room now. What're you going to do with it, turn it into a gym?”

“Nah. I thought I'd – uh. Make it into a guest bedroom so I can babysit Jee-Yun here, and have it for when you and Christopher come back for a visit. I can get one of those beds with the extra mattress that slides out and – anyway, I have a couple of ideas.”

“Oh,” Eddie says, because it's either that or bust out crying. “Well, you know, it might be a few months before I can even think of getting away from the – the work I have to do to the house, and the new job.”

“Good,” Buck says airily, “'cause putting together Ikea furniture is a real pain in the ass, it'll probably take me at least that long to figure out the directions.”

That startles a laugh out of Eddie, which he imagines was the point. “So, what time you want me at your place in the morning to help you pack?”

Buck scratches at the back of his neck. “I've been thinking about that. You need to be on the road early if you want to get to El Paso before Christopher goes to bed. The movers aren't coming til Thursday, so I can take my time.”

Eddie frowns. “You're saying you don't want my help?”

“I'm saying I want you to – not have one more thing to worry about,” Buck says, shoving his hands in his pockets. “I'll see you at six-thirty to load up, okay?”

“Sure, yeah,” Eddie says, suddenly struck by the thought that in a little over ten hours he'll be saying goodbye to Buck. There's so much to say and no time left to say it, not that he has any idea where to start. But even if he did, what would be the point? He might never be coming back to L.A., not to live.

It's not nothing, he'd said, and even that had felt ripped from him, a confession he needed to make for himself as much as for Buck. He can't afford to be more selfish than that, because no matter how anyone standing in this near-empty house feels, Christopher needs a father more than Buck needs Eddie – and maybe even more than Eddie needs Buck. It's simple math, the alligator eating the greater number like they taught you in grade school. But if that's true, why does he feel like the one being consumed, devoured, erased from existence?

Buck hesitates for a moment, his gaze assessing. They should hug, just like Eddie had hugged Hen and Chim and Bobby. But maybe they both know it could get messy, and the last thing either of them needs right now is more mess.

In the end, Buck awkwardly says his goodbyes and leaves. Of course, Buck being Buck, he turns up right on time the next morning in the pouring rain with his big smile and his big arms and his enormous heart and a dozen freshly-baked protein cookies. The hug they'd avoided the night before seems a little less dangerous in the light of day, at least until Buck's arms wrap around him, warm and strong.

Eddie's smile as Buck's warm breath tickle the rain-chilled skin of his neck feel like it's trying to smother him. Time's up, and all he can do in the end is keep that smile stuck to his face while he gasps for air beneath it.

As Eddie's passing San Bernadino on the I-10, he reaches into the bag for one of the cookies and savors it slowly, letting the chocolate melt on his tongue.

When the silent tears start falling, he's not even surprised.

read the rest at the AO3