#Woman caught in adultery
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HER STORY: Christ's Ministry, Woman Caught in Adultery
Most Bibles point out the earliest manuscripts do not include this story, and sometimes it appears in Luke However, Jerome, in 383 AD, included it in his translation of the Gospel of John, right after chapter 7, where it is usually found today.
#John7
Most Bibles point out that the earliest manuscripts do not include this story, and sometimes it appears in Luke However, Jerome, in 383 AD, included it in his translation of the Gospel of John, right after chapter 7, where it is usually found today. Jerome noted that many ancient Greek and Latin manuscripts at his disposal had this story, in its usual position. Ambrose of Milan, and Augustine…
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#Bible#Bible study#biblical teaching#biblical woman#biblical women#egal#Egalitarian#expository teaching#John 7#scriptural teaching#Woman caught in adultery#Women in the Bible
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Silence
There was an interesting article that appeared in this past week’s news. It was 1980 and Jimmy Carter was in the White House, bedeviled by a hostage crisis in Iran that had paralyzed his presidency and hampered his effort to win a second term. Mr. Carter’s best chance for victory was to free the 52 Americans held captive before Election Day. That was something that Ben Barnes said his mentor,…
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Minor Festival Homily: Michael and All Angels (9/29/23)
Primary Text | John 7:53-8:11
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Grace to you and peace from God our Father and the Lord Jesus Christ,
Today’s passage from John teaches us the difference between God’s judgment and God’s mercy. This passage is traditionally called “the woman caught in adultery.” The scribes and the Pharisees drag the woman to Jesus not because they actually care about what she had done. They bring her so they can trap Jesus and discredit him. So they ask him, “Teacher, this woman was caught in the very act of committing adultery. Now in the law Moses commanded us to stone such women. Now what do you say?” (John 8:4-5). They think, “Aha! Now we have him! We have him caught no matter if he says ‘Yes’ or ‘No.’” If Jesus says, “Yes, stone her” then they’ve won their case against him—he will contradict himself. If Jesus says, “No, don’t stone her” they can accuse him of teaching against Moses. What none of them saw coming was what he would say to them. First, he said nothing. But when they pressed him more on the matter, he said, “Let anyone among you who is without sin be the first to throw a stone at her” (John 8:7). In this way he blows them all out of the water.
Let’s consider what Jesus did here. He does not deny the wrongdoing of the woman caught in adultery. Adultery is no little sin. It destroys the divine institution of marriage. It tears families apart. It unsettles any little ones involved affecting them the rest of their lives. Adultery causes black mold to grow on the trust necessary for such intimate relationships. God’s judgment in the law of Moses for such a sin is death by stoning. Which, Jesus does not deny. God’s judgment is unbending. It condemns outright and totally—that is the function of the law. But Jesus says here only the one without sin can be the one to stone her. In saying that Jesus slings the mud right back at the Pharisees. For they realize that they do not qualify to throw stones—they too, have their sins. Turns out, it was not they who caught Jesus, but Jesus who caught them. So they leave one by one so that Jesus and the woman are left alone to themselves. Then, Jesus said to the woman, “‘Woman, where are they? Has no one condemned you?’ She said, ‘No one, Lord.’ And Jesus said, ‘Neither do I condemn you. Go your way, and from now on do not sin again’” (John 8:10-11). Now we begin to see the difference between God’s judgment and God’s mercy. The kingdom of Jesus is filled only with sinners, actual sinners. But forgiven sinners. Luther wrote on this passage, “God’s mercy does not deal with insignificant sins, half-sins, imaginary sins, or sins that are no sins, but real sins that are felt. For example, not to fear God, not to trust Him and believe in Him, not to love one’s neighbor, not to pray, not to hear preaching, not to keep the commandments of Moses, any violation of God’s command, something that cannot be ignored—these call for a genuine, not a meaningless, forgiveness.” According to the law this woman caught stands condemned in her adultery. According to the gospel, this woman is forgiven.
The Pharisees walked away because as sinful as adultery is, Jesus has held up the mirror, showing them that they are not so holy and pure as they think they are—they do not have a better standing than this woman they brought to shame. When it comes to sin, we are all on equal ground and equally condemned. Let us not think that we ourselves are pure and holy on the basis of what we do or do not do. In his teaching on adultery Jesus does not lower the severity of the sixth commandment on adultery—he illuminates its scope by saying anyone who even gazes at another with lust in their heart has committed adultery. So he has caught us in the act. But like the woman caught in adultery, you and I are upheld by the kingdom of the gospel—where there is no longer punishment or condemnation. The slogan of Christ’s kingdom is this: “I forgive you your sin; for in My kingdom no one is without forgiveness” (from Luther). Dear people, it is not holy, pure, and good people who are admitted to the kingdom. Those he sends far away. It is the adulterers and any who know the depth of their sin, these are the ones he brings in. And so he has brought you in by the hearing of the word, that first word that puts to death, and that second word that raises you from the dead—whatever your sin Jesus says to you, “I do not condemn you. I do not condemn you.”
#preached on the occasion of Michael and All Angels#but on the topic of the woman caught in adultery#revised common lectionary#this pericope never shows up on a Sunday morning
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Judging? What Does The Bible Say About Judging Other People?
Is Judging Other People A Sin?
“He that is without sin among you, let him first cast a stone at her.“
Jesus Refused To Cast a Stone At the Woman Caught In Adultery.
Jesus Did Not Judge Her!
Let’s Look at this, The Woman Caught in the act of Adultery:
John 10:1 Jesus went unto the mount of Olives. 2 And early in the morning he came again into the temple, and all the people came unto him; and he…
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#Bible Study#Blog#Christian#Christianity#False Teachers#God#Jesus#Judging Others#Repent of Sin False Gospel#Salvation#Sermon#The Gospel#The Woman Caught In Adultery#Wordpress Blog
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John 8:1-11 → The woman caught in adultery
This morning during Sunday “formation hour” our class spoke on the story of the woman caught in adultery (John 8:1-11). We started our time together reading a story our teacher had written from the woman’s perspective. Not the perspective of Jesus, the legal experts, or the Pharisees. But from the eyes of a person who would have been considered property. From the eyes of someone who wouldn’t have been readily allowed a voice during the lifetime of Jesus. The sole demand of her life being summed up in her ability to conceive and produce healthy children. During the lifetime of Jesus, her infidelity could result in but one outcome: that she be killed for her marital infidelity.
But consider this before we move on: where was the man with whom the woman committed the adulterous act? Leviticus 20:10 states that both the man and the woman be put to death. To break the binding of one’s marriage vows by committing adultery is stated directly in the Ten Commandments given to the Israelites directly from God (Exodus 20:14).
This morning our teacher told the story of John 8 very beautifully, adding soft enhancements not explicitly found in Scripture to enhance our hearing the story – often called midrash, or “Christian fanfiction” as I’ve heard it playfully categorized. From this text and midrash I was left with several takeaways of Jesus and the woman caught in adultery.
The first being that of how physical touch could potentially play a role in Jesus’ earthly ministry. One of the soft enhancements of the story happened when Jesus sits on the ground and begins to scribble in the dirt. The woman, we’re told, longs to reach out and touch Jesus. As she waits for the men who’ve brought her to Jesus to condemn her, I wonder of this woman: what life did you possess? This woman who, for reasons that are never revealed to readers of John 8, may have led a happy life. She may have had a “good life” complete with a kind husband, happy children, and luxuries of which others only dream. But perhaps, for whatever reason, the woman found herself in the bed of another man because of the desire of her own heart and feeling as though she had no choice but to remain true to it. Perhaps this woman had no choice other than being forced into the bed of a man who held over her power, wealth, prestige, and her desire for continued secrecy of their sexual entanglement. Perhaps, although married, this woman made a living from sex work and was used as a simple devise to ensnare Jesus into an unwinable argument by the legal experts and Pharisees. Perhaps the only life this women had ever known was that of being used sexually against her will.
But let’s return to the image of the woman caught in adultery waiting to be condemned for her actions, countered with her desire to reach out and touch Jesus. I say again to this woman: what life did you possess that in this moment your only desire is to touch a young, homeless, penniless teacher? If her life was, indeed, filled with caresses of a sexual nature – whether initiated by this woman or someone else – why reach out to this unknown stranger? This unknown man? This man who holds the fate of your life in his hands? What was so compelling about this unknown man that you catch yourself as you see your hand only a few inches away from his cropped hair? Could you feel the heat from his head pulsing against your hand? Could you sense the divine creation in him, knowing that you are but two bodies filled with the same ruach (breath)?
Next I’m left with the idea of how slow and intentional stoning would be. How personal this death would be. We’re not told from where these men would be set to throw rocks but I can’t imagine it would be from far away. Perhaps from only a few feet away these rocks would begin to fly. Also, where would these men find rocks? Would there simply be a plethora of available debris within the city square? Could you buy specialized rocks for such an occasion? How long would it be before the woman would pass out? What of the aim of the men throwing rocks? Surely, there would be rocks which met only thigh, stomach, shoulders, chest, leg before resulting in the final damaging blows to the head. And while they would all be painful, how long would it be before you, my sister caught in the act of adultery, finally fall to the ground? Or would you stand there, perhaps shielded with only a thin sheet covered in blood and pale discharge, until the rocks claimed its life as well? Your shame and flesh fully exposed to all in the town square. What would you think as you stood alone, perhaps with no clothes and no sheet, looking at men whose eyes preyed upon your nakedness? Could you hear their intent without the men having to open their mouths?
But that’s not what happens to you, my sister caught in adultery. Instead we’re told that the men walk away, one-by-one, leaving you unharmed and alone with Jesus. This man Jesus doesn’t look upon you with eyes that value your nakedness. Instead we’re told, thanks to the soft enhancements of our teacher this morning, that Jesus takes the face of the woman caught in adultery into his own hands. The hands of Jesus which will be nailed to a cross in a short time. The face that will be mocked and spat upon in the weeks yet to come.
But today Jesus holds this woman’s face in his hands.
In this moment they share a kinship and peace this woman may never again experience while on this earth.
This woman who may (or may not) have known a life filled only with violence and judgment. Of eyes which preyed upon the one thing over which she should have complete control. For me, John 8 isn’t about whether or not the woman caught in adultery was guilty and in need of Jesus’ redemption (or even the lessons learned by the legal experts and Pharisees). For me, it’s the story of how Jesus longs to be with us: during our “dirty” moments, our moments of shame, our moments when we realize how powerful our presuppositions can be against others.
It’s a reminder that if you want to know what God looks like, look at Jesus.
Look to the mercy given to both an “adulterous” disregarded woman and the legal experts and Pharisees.
Perhaps when Jesus tells the woman in verse 11 “... Go, and from now on, don’t sin anymore” (CEB) this is what he meant: learn from this and move forward. Don’t dwell in the past. Don’t remember the faces of the men who accused you and brought you here for judgment and death. Remember me and walk, or at least try to walk, as I do. Perhaps in doing this we look less like the legal experts and Pharisees and more like Jesus, who looks like God.
#john 8#john 8:1-11#women writers#christian inspiration#writing#dailylivingwriter#the woman caught in adultery
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Adultery
Pairing: Jake Kiszka X f!reader
Word Count: 3k
Warnings: CHEATING (if you don’t like it, don’t read 😛), smut, minors DNI, fingering (f receiving), unprotected sex, language
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It’s wrong.
Those thoughts you’ve been thinking? The made up scenarios you’ve formed in your head? It’s not right.
There are many layers as to why this case is out of reach. Unfathomable.
For one, it would be in your best interest to not get fired here. You work for this man. Sleeping with the one you answer to, the person who has the power to terminate you with the snap of his fingers, wouldn’t look good to your boss, huh?
But let’s cut the shit, and get to the real problem at hand.
Jake Kiszka is not a single man.
He has a partner. She is a lovely woman. Whom he’s been involved with for several years. You knew this from the way he spoke of her. Many times you’ve been witness to the rushed FaceTime calls he’s shared with her before stage.
Oh, and there was that one time you caught yourself with your ear pressed to his dressing room door, listening to the way he spoke to her on the phone. His voice soft and sultry.
“I miss you” her voice echoed from the other side of the phone.
“Can you do something for me tonight, babe?” He asked.
“Anything.” Her voice was desperate. You could hear the way she yearned for him through the phone.
“Think of me tonight when you slip your fingers below that lace and pleasure yourself. Think of me the entire time. Say my name when you cum.”
He was taken. Unavailable. Off the market.
But you didn’t even feel bad. That was the worst part.
You especially didn’t feel bad that night after eavesdropping on their phone call. You did exactly what he asked of her and thought of him the entire time. Just like most nights.
But you weren’t crazy.
There was a reason behind the pining for Jake. Every other time, the subtle flirtatious manner was reciprocated.
You remember the times where his touch lingered longer than it should have against your skin.
The times he brought you things like water or a snack, when that was quite literally your job for him.
And what about that time he specifically instructed you to “remain side stage for the entire show”?
You weren’t crazy.
Right?
“30 minutes ‘til stage people. Let’s get a move on.” An annoying voice rang through your radio.
Do they really have to update us every 10 minutes?
You added some pep to your step, despite the agitation of the constant reminder.
These places all looked the same behind the scenes. Long boring hallways with a bunch of doors to random places lining the walls.
The echo of your footsteps reverberated from the concrete floors to the cinder block walls.
“What’s the rush?”
Fuck.
The door to his dressing room was cracked. He sat lazily against the couch. His left arm draped over the top of the cushion, his legs crossed.
That curled smile. Jake had this signature smirk. It was like the Cheshire Cat. Like he knew he would forever get away with the shit he pulled.
“It- its 25 minutes to show. Shouldn’t you be…” You’ve lost your train of thought at the sight of him rising from the couch, dusting off the imaginary lint from the thigh of his pants.
“I’m always ready for whatever the night has in store.” He answers your unfinished question, the shit eating grin still plastered across his face. He punctuates his sentence with a pucker of his lips.
Before you even have time to process, the bathroom door inside the room swings open.
“Hey babe, what do you think about this dress? Too much?”
Layla.
Jake’s long term girlfriend was at the show tonight. Sitting with him in his dressing room before he headed to the stage. Dressing up for him. Doing everything you wished for.
You stood awkwardly as you watched Jake pull her body into his by the grip of his fingertips on her hips.
“You look positively radiant tonight.” He reassured her.
He planted the softest kiss imaginable to her lips - almost as if he intended not to let them meet.
His eyes quickly shifted to your presence before fixing back on her’s.
“Will you…. See if you can find Sam for me, love? Got something I want to do before the show.” He tucks her hair behind her ear as if to convince her of the task.
She nods back at him with those annoying doe eyes. You wonder if she truly is as dull as you assumed.
“Quickly.” He smacks her ass as she walks away from him.
You can’t help but roll your eyes as you begin to walk off.
“Oh do that again for me will you?” Jake calls from the dressing room.
You peek your head in once more.
“Excuse me?” Fake annoyance lacing the tone of your voice.
“What would Layla think if she heard that?” You bring yourself further into the room.
“And by the way, thats fucked up sending her on a wild goose chase looking for Sam. He’s never in the same spot for more than-“
He cuts you off by slamming the door shut, reaching his arm dangerously close next to your head.
The lock switches beside you.
“You’re catching on.”
That fucking smirk. You can hear it when he talks, even if he’s turned his back to you.
You study the waves of his hair that fall against the back of his suit.
“You don’t want me like that.” His back remains to you as he fixes two drinks.
“What?” You’re nervous. Your voice a high pitched whisper.
“I see the way you glare at her. You’re jealous. But you don’t want me like that.” He turns back to you offering a glass of amber liquid. Your stomach turns, never being much of a drinker.
Trying your best not to make a face, you sip at the drink.
“And how do you know what I want?” A flirtatious edge to your tone.
He takes a step too close to you. Angling his neck down to meet your face.
“I know what you want, because you’re just like her. A good girl that wants a good man to treat her right. Shower her with love and reassurance.”
He brushes the hair behind your ear, just as he did to Layla earlier.
“But I think there’s something different with you.” He toys with the end of your hair, wrapping it around his pointer finger.
You don’t even need to ask, he can read the question mark on your face.
He huffs a laugh to himself with a tight lipped grin.
Jake trails his fingertips, snaking them through to the hair at the nape of your neck.
“I think you’re a slut.” He tugs your hair with force, causing you to expose your throat.
He brings his mouth closer to the sensitive skin there, not letting his lips meet.
“See, my Layla, she doesn’t have that darkness behind her eyes that I see with you sometimes.”
The heat of his breath against you raises goosebumps to your skin.
“She’s sheltered and shy.” He flattens his tongue before dragging it up your neck, stopping just below your earlobe.
“But with you…” his voice is at a whisper now.
“With you, I think I could tell you ‘Open up’ and you’d spread so well for me.”
He kicks your feet apart, opening the space between your legs.
With his pointer and middle finger, he rubs the inseam of your leggings that follows your slit.
He watches your face as he starts at the front towards your clit, following the line back towards your entrance. When he reaches, he adds pressure to the circles he creates, pushing into you against the fabric.
You try your hardest to seem unphased by his lustful actions.
This isn’t right. Layla will be back any minute now. You think to yourself.
As if to read your mind he answers, “Better be quick then.”
Before you can process a response, his mouth meets yours with force.
His kiss is a parallel opposite of what you witnessed with Layla earlier.
His kiss with you is intense. Sloppy. Desperate with need.
Jake licks into your mouth, his tongue sliding over yours. He’s winning the battle of dominance, and you’re surrendering with ease.
He walks you backwards until he has you pressed against the closest wall.
In between gasps of air, he groans softly into your mouth.
You feel the calloused pads of his fingertips against the soft skin below your bellybutton as he tries to slip his hand beneath your leggings.
Just as fast as he snaked them in, he pulls his hand away.
You whimper from the loss of contact.
He breaks the heated kiss from you, panting to catch his breath.
“Take them off, now” he orders you.
Immediately you bend at the waist, taking one leg out at a time.
He studies the bare half of your body before gripping your face by your cheeks.
With his free hand he holds your neck to angle you just the way he wants you.
With clenched teeth he growls to you, “Do you always walk around your job with no underwear on like a fucking whore?”
His words alone cause you to rub your thighs together, craving any sense of friction from remaining untouched to this point.
He catches you red handed, and slaps the side of your thigh. His forceful touch leaving a sting that makes you want him even more.
Jake adds pressure to his thumb against your throat.
“Open.” He orders you once more.
You obey, spreading your feet apart, inviting him in.
He laughs softly to himself, “My girl. Such a good listener”
At last, the tip of his middle finger slides with ease through the center of your wetness.
From the look in his eyes, you can tell he loves to watch your reaction. Loves to see the approval of his work.
He teases the fingertip at your entrance. You buck your hips in his direction, silently pleading for more.
“You want it?” He looks down at you.
Your face is desperate as you nod to him.
His jaw clenches once more, “Fucking speak up.”
“Y-yes yes, Jake. I wan-“
Before you can finish your words, he shoves both his pointer and middle finger up inside of you, pumping them in and out at a steady rhythm.
His lips meet yours again. The two of you moaning into each other's mouths in harmony.
With each pump his fingers, he rocks his hips into you.
“…there’s something different with you” You think back on his words.
With your fingers wrapped around his wrist, you tug his hand from you - forcing his digits from inside of you.
“I want you to fuck me, Jake.” Your eyes lock with his as you watch them turn a darker shade of brown.
Without a word, he spins you around, your chest pressed against the cold white wall. He arches your hips for you to grant him better access.
“Fucking dirty.” He pants into your ear.
One hand is pressed to the side of your face, pushing you further against the wall, while the other fidgets with his belt.
You hear the sound of it as it hits the floor, his pants around his ankles.
“Lift up.” He taps your side, motioning for you to lift your arms above your head.
With a swift motion he pulls your shirt over your head and tosses it to the floor.
Your back arches in hopes to close the space between you both.
Jake swipes your hair to one side, over your shoulder, unclasping your bra with one hand.
He leans in to press a delicate kiss upon your spine, simultaneously wrapping his arm around your hips to meet your clit with his finger.
You whine at the sensation of the slow but steady circles he presses into you.
He grips his length, slapping it against your ass.
“I’m not going to be nice.” His voice a low groan as he teases you with the tip of his cock, sliding through your slick.
“Please, Jake” your reply is muffled with your cheek pressed against the wall.
No warning. No mercy.
He slams his entire length inside of you to the hilt. The moans spilling out of you are closer to a scream.
He makes his own ponytail in your hair with his fist, tugging with force.
He grunts in unison with each pump inside of you. The tip of his cock brushing against your sweet spot with each push.
The faster he pumps into you, the faster the circles against your clit become. With each swipe, he adds more force, pressing his finger harder against your bud.
“And when you leave this room…” he pants.
“Not a word. Not a suspicious look. Nothing.” He punctuates his sentence with a harsh smack to your ass.
Unable to respond from the overstimulation to your clit, and the pressure inside of you, Jake becomes frustrated. He pulls harder on your hair than he has yet.
“Do you hear me? Answer me.” Not once does he stop fucking into you.
“YES, Jake. Yes. Just…” your response is nothing but a whine.
He reaches around to pinch your nipple between his pointer finger and thumb. He twists and pulls as you feel the warmth pool between your hips. That familiar feeling of your climax approach.
You grab his wrist again, forcing it back between your legs to your clit.
“So close” you mumble to him, begging him to finish you off.
Without hesitation he picks up exactly where he left off. Quick swipes against your throbbing clit.
He pulls himself all the way out of you, slamming himself back deep inside.
Your eyes roll to the back of your head. Unsure of how much more you can take.
Your muscles tighten to an uncomfortable extent as you hear three knocks at his dressing room door.
“Jake?” The door handle wiggles.
Immediately he wraps his hand around your mouth as he continues to fuck into you.
“Not a sound.” He whispers into your ear, his pace slows but his thrusts are deep.
“Are you in there? Why is the door locked?” Layla whines from outside.
Jake quickens his pace, both his cock inside of you and his fingers toying with your clit.
“Let go for me.” His whisper is even more quiet than before.
He feels your walls begin to tremble and constrict around him. The muscles of your abdomen tense as you prepare your release.
“That’s it. Keep going. Your pussy feels so much better than hers.” He mumbles into your ear, chasing his own high as well.
“Jake!!” Layla pounds on the door again, “5 minutes ‘til show. What the fuck are you doing?”
As the sensation of pleasure washes over you, your senses slip. Your eyes clenched shut, and ears ringing… there is no Layla. There is no show. There is no job.
Just you. And Jake. And the feeling of him inside of you.
He pulls out from you abruptly, his release following, sliding down the inside of your thigh.
He picks his pants up from around his ankles, and quickly fastens his belt.
You’re left remaining pressed to the wall, unable to move or process anything and everything that just transpired in the small dressing room.
What am I going to do? How am I going to get out of here without facing Layla?
Your thoughts paralyze you.
You feel his tight grip on both of your shoulders as he spins you around to plant a quick kiss to your lips.
And just like that, he slips through a crack in the door, open just enough so she can’t see inside.
Frozen in silence, you stand naked in the room alone as you listen to their muffled voices through the closed door.
“I couldn’t find Sam.” Her voice, defeated.
Jake clears his throat before responding.
“Don’t worry about it. I took care of it.”
Taglist: @gretasimp @writingcold @wowkakashi @spark-my-nature @gretavanbear
#gretavanfleet#gvf#jake kiszka#gvf smut#jake kiszka gvf#gvf fanfiction#jake kiszka smut#jake kiszka x reader#greta van fleet fanfic#gvf fic
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Yandere! Butler x Noble! "Villain/Villainess"! Gn! Reader
Ah. I just reread Beware the Villainess for the nth time so expect our yandere for the day to be heavily inspired by Nine!
Yandere Butler name: Zero (get it? Cuz Nine's name is a number so I made our yandere's name Zero--)
notes (not really TW): slight nsfw, yandere is being used by reader, also, a bit of manipulation and breeding by the yandere (Since there is breeding, womb is present in reader.)
Zero had no qualms on making other people his priority.
He was made with that in mind, after all. Being a chimera, he was made by his creator to serve them and nothing more.
But, once Zero grew up to have a mind of his own, and having his own opinions, he was effectively kicked out of the lab. He begged and begged for his creator to take him back but to no avail.
"You were made to serve me unconditionally! But you dare question my experiments and the way I created you?! I'm your god! But you defied me, so scram!"
With a heavy heart and a lovely face filled with tears, he ran away.
He roamed the streets and promptly passed out on an alley.
Despite being a chimera, he was still built with human bodily functions. So the hunger, stress, thirst, and tiredness caught up to him.
When passerby's saw him, they turned a blind eye on him. Spitting on his body, rolling their eyes, ignoring them, or the worst of them all, pity him yet did absolutely nothing to help.
Maybe, this was his fate after all.
The punishment for going astray from his original role.
Until one day, a hand appeared in front of his face, offering him a safe place to stay.
It was you.
You were his savior, his grace, his god.
And he will do anything for you.
Anything.
Sobs can be heard from your room. It was so faint that only the keenest of ears can hear them if they strain it far enough.
You just got fooled by your fiancé, the prince, again. He called you to the palace to meet him, and you, being in love with him still, rushed to the palace with the best outfit you can wear.
But once you entered the sitting room, you saw him once more, making sweet, sweet love to a woman who wasn't you.
Ah, how many times did he do this again? Two? Three? Seven? Who counts anymore.
You were the foolish person who refused to let go of the prince and continued to torment his lover, deeming you the villain/ess in people's eyes for being opposed to "true love."
Is it really true love if it stemmed from adultery?
You always question yourself that. And it seems that even your own family is getting tired of your quick dropping reputation that's plummeting even faster than a meteorite.
You hate him. You hate him so much for making you love him. Your heart squeezes in pain as your short bursts of gasps of frustration filled your lethargic body as you continued to cry out to ease the dull ache in your soul.
You want revenge. You want him to eat shit. But how?
Zero knocked on the door. His hearing, being more advanced than a regular human, heard your sobs. He wanted to comfort you so bad, he wants to hug and kiss you, to make you forget the prince, to make you fall for him. He will not hurt you, so please give him a chance!
But Zero shook his head. "Presumptuous." He thought.
You opened your door, and Zero's heart squeezed also when he saw your tear stained face. He can see it in your eyes that you wanted revenge. You wanted to get back at the prince.
He gulped, nervousness eating him.
This is it. He can be of help to you.
He stepped forward, one, two. Then bent down to kiss your tears away. With a whisper on your ear that left shivers down your spine, his lovely and sultry voice suggested.
"Use me at your disposal, master. I am your one and only loyal servant, and I am willing to be your tool for your revenge."
His face lit up with love and lust as he saw your eyes sparking in curiousity.
"Yes, just use me." He grabbed your hand and pressed it to his warm, red cheeks. "You're my god, after all. I live to serve you."
"gah... huff... Ah..."
"Master... Hng... There, right... agh, there..."
Soft moans and gasps can be heard from the sitting room as two individuals engaged in what old conservative nobles would say, a sinful act.
"Rougher, master... Don't... Ah~ worry about... Me!"
Zero's voice can be heard, pleading his master, you, to take him more rougher and faster. You being on top of him, pressing down on his tall, lean, and muscular body that sweated with heat and speckled with bodily fluids, he looks so blissful and so euphoric.
You and Zero have been making rounds on the local gossip and tabloids. The noble y/n who's engaged to the prince has found a man? And it's their butler?!
Scandalous!
Outrageous!
But also, exciting!
Everyone loved the gossip. Everyone loved the drama. The prince had a lover, so why can't you?
People looked on the situation with keen and sharp eyes. They want more of this. Some suspected that this is all a ruse by you, the villain/ess of the prince's and his lover's relationship. They think you're faking your relationship with Zero!
But how can it be faked when you declined the prince's invitation to be his partner on the royal ball, and instead went with your hot butler? Some also saw both of you make out in the gardens!
How... SInful!
Yet people can't turn away!
And one of the people that can't turn away is the prince. He wants answers, now!
So he's running to your mansion and will demand answers.
But, what if he's the one to catch his own fiance/e making sweet, sweet love to their lover?
And what if, that lover, somehow manipulated the fiance/e into letting him breed a child in them?
Zero shakily touched your abdomen. It already has a slight bump on it as you continued to bounce on top of him. He grinned. His eyes dark, hazy, and full of obsession as he groaned from the pleasure. Your sounds of euphoric release also urged him to climax also inside of you once more.
"Yes, master." Zero said with a trembling voice, just coming down from his high. "I think, having this child between us will effectively make the prince finally end the engagement between you two."
Sweet, dumb you, only nodded with a shiver as you laid on top of him. You were totally convinced that this was the right choice and plan.
At first, you were apprehensive. After all, pregnancy? Isn't that too much? Also, he's a chimera. That's impossible.
But once you saw him experimenting on himself and applying alchemic practices on his own body to make the plan possible, you knew he would do anything to help you and serve you. So you agreed.
You got swayed that easily.
He smiled sweetly. His lovely and innocent face calmed you down as he kissed your forehead. Faint shouts can be heard from outside the sitting room and both of you readied to face the prince one last time.
Zero smirked under his breath.
After all, you were his god, his lover.
He will do anything to serve you.
He will do anything to have you.
#male yandere x reader#yandere boyfriend#yandere imagines#yandere male#yandere writing#yandere x darling#yandere x you#yandere fic#tw yandere#yandere drabbles#lizzaneiaelizalde
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i want to expand on this post just cause i can.
so much of gus and jesse’s relationship is played as an affair. this is only because it makes walt’s anger about their dynamic feel more jilted, like a lover. when he confronts jesse about the two of them having dinner he uses language an excusatory husband would use if he caught his spouse cheating such as “tell me you weren’t as his house last night?” it’s very clearly written as jesse being disloyal to walt and their partnership. now the audience knows that’s just simply not true with jesse literally saying “if you kill mr. white, you’re going to have to kill me too” when he thinks gus is suggesting killing him. he’s devoted to mr. white throughly. even when he’s being shoved into these new situations by mike and gus, there’s never a moment where he thinks about abandoning him. he’s still in the back of his mind through everything, and every character knows this except for walt. that’s what makes most of the build-up leading to gus’s death so ironic. to walt, gus is the other woman who needs to be killed for fraternizing with what’s “his”. in reality, it’s his own brutality and sadistic behavior that is putting a wedge between him and jesse.
it’s very reminiscent of walt finding out about skyler’s affair with ted. he lashes out and throws a tantrum but he never stops for a second and asks why it happened. he never comes to the conclusion that his actions are what’s driving skyler into another’s arms. he plots to get revenge on ted, but it’s never more serious than toxic masculine how-dare-you-sleep-with-my-wife bullshit. he wants to kill him, i don’t doubt that, but he can’t. how can he? killing, torturing, and all that depravity belongs in the “heisenberg” part of his life. he cannot touch ted because he is as mundane as the life he is fronting.
now, i will admit, the skyler affair storyline and jesse’s so-called adultery are really not that similar at all. like i said, jesse is not betraying anyone--he is still fiercely dedicated to mr. white. his unfaithfulness is only interpreted as much by walt himself, and it’s walt’s delusions drive him away in the first place. skyler cheats as a means of revenge, as a way to take back some autonomy that walt had stripped her of. however, it’s the way that walt handles these individual perfidies that’s so captivating to me. when deciding what to do with gus, he immediately decides he needs to kill him. this was his plan prior, but now it’s more dire. jesse is gone. he needs to kill two birds with one stone: win back jesse and kill gus. more importantly, he needs to show jesse that him killing gus was something he did for the both of them. so thus he embarks on this convoluted, deplorable, fucked-up scheme. and hey! it works. he successfully manipulates jesse once again, implanting in his brain that no one will have your best interests at heart but me. “gus had to go” and jesse has to agree because this pseudo-son is dying and mr. white is right there and he saved him right? he saved brock and he saved jesse and it doesn’t matter that their love has a body count. their reunion is so impactful because they’re like magnets in a way. the connection they share is so strong that it doesn’t matter how hard they fight or run away, they will cling to each other once more. but what’s devastating this time around is that jesse doesn’t have a leg to stand on with mr. white anymore. he almost fucking killed him and it turns out the “real” mastermind was gus all along. so he offers his submission as an apology, when mr. white holds out his hand he takes it because this is how he can say he’s sorry. and walt? how could he not fall in love all over again. he has jesse, freshly martyred and in his arms once again.
#i found this in my drafts#tbh i cooked#i miss being able to watch breaking bad without crying#now i can't look at jesse's baby blues without fucking sobbing up a storm#takes me 2 days now to finish one episode#waltjesse#walter white#jesse pinkman#brba#Breaking Bad#Aaron Paul#bryan cranston
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can we get to know the perverted faculty in midnight darling?
hoo boy. i was gonna make it a stretch goal to include each and every subject mc might get as a biology major in the philippines but have the named ones for now.
warnings: homophobic society, inappropriate teacher/student relationships, age gap, infidelity/adultery, ageism, voyeurism/exhibitionism, sexual and typical yandere themes. dark content. this is a lot smuttier than all of my previous headcannons oh god.
[previous part] — yandere bad boy/jock, good girl, nerd and president.
YANDERE COLLEGE! FACULTY! X POPULAR GIRL! READER [PANGALAWANG YUGTO / SECOND PART]
ELOISE MORIN - PHYSICS TEACHER
✎ Eloise Morin was always drawn to you. You stuck out like sore thumb in her long list of faces she had to memorize every year and was the only time she ever broke a rule. The rule being to never fall in love with one of her students.
✎ It all started with the pairing of her sister, Ella Morin (The Emo! Kid) with you in order to break her out of her shell. The other faculty members seemed to trust you, and you had perfect grades.
✎ Sometimes your harem regrets always cleaning your record with how much the professors called upon you for tasks, thus reducing your time with them.
✎ And it worked, Ella’s grades improved and the sisters’s home life was better. They started actually talking during meals. She just seemed so much happier.
✎ Eloise soon found out it wasn’t because you were friends, it was moreso that you’d relieve Ella of stress when she acted to your whims.
✎ The woman could never forget the time she caught you eating out her little sister after a study session. In her own damn home.
✎ She was confused. Any responsible teacher and guardian would put a stop to this, right? But she found herself welcoming you in every time. Ignoring your disheveled look after ‘hanging out’ with Ella. Always treating you well so you’d be incentivized to come again and again into her home.
✎ So she can watch you defiling her baby sister as she touched herself to sounds of your moans.
✎Her horny levels are pretty terrible for an adult. Eloise was brought up to be a stout, pious woman. Never to have any sexual relations before marriage, much less the same gender. She was never attracted to the men around her and through you she finally knew why.
✎ She has yet to explore her likes and dislikes but what she does know is that merely seeing you gets her absolutely dripping in arousal. She fantasizes day in and out about what you could do to her and where you could do it.
✎On her sister’s bed? The Kitchen counter as she cooked dinner for you whenever you stayed for the night? In front of the class as she teaches? On the desk of that damn principal that kept creeping on you?
✎The only thing stopping her from pouncing on you is guilt. Guilt that she’s attracted to a person much younger than her. A woman no less. What would her parents think? Sure, they’re dead. But Eloise can still imagine the disappointment they’d show if she gave into these lustful urges.
✎What Popular! Reader thinks of her : Like many of your teachers and fellow students. You see her as a means to an end. However, unlike the rest of them, Eloise does interest you the most. You’re waiting to see the moment she snaps. Ready to taint her with your colors.
AMELIA YORKSHIRE - LINGUISTICS TEACHER
✎ Amelia is the eldest teacher in the staff list. She’s a triple divorcee with a child from each husband.
✎ She craves male approval and used to work with Ricardo to bring you down a peg. Before you came in, she was known to harass her male students and show a little too much skin that it was unprofessional at best.
✎ She quickly switched to the other side after a private one-on-one exam with you.
✎ Not only did you get a perfect score in that test, you also managed to give her a better orgasm than all her husbands combined.
✎Also uses her family to get you closer. This time more intentionally. C’mon don’t you just love children? Aren’t hers the cutest?
✎She doesn’t make it discreet when it comes to her more perverted side. Often shoving her cleavage to your face when in class.
✎Tried using another student to make you jealous and that only made you turned off.
✎Is currently desperately trying to earn your attention back. At this point she might as well wear nothing to school.
✎ What Popular! Reader thinks of her: You aren’t the type to slut shame. That would be quite hypocritical of you to do. But a professor obviously perving on her students was kind of baffling. She left little to the imagination, so after your first romp with Amelia you basically never touched her again. Unknowingly making her obsession worse.
✎ Hers was a minor subject anyways, so you didn’t put that much effort into humoring her. She was a great fuck though.
MARX ESGUERRA - BIOLOGY TEACHER
✎ Now Marx was a different story entirely. Unlike your more lowkey teasing with Eloise and disinterest with Amelia. It was well-known throughout the campus of your interest with the Biology teacher.
✎ It took a while to get into his pants. Marx was known to be even worse than Eloise when it came to how strict he was with himself and his students. He was teaching a new generation of healthcare workers after all.
✎ At least that’s what you thought. You didn’t realize it was because he was studying the best way to approach you.
✎ Marx thought of you of you as perfect. He knew what he wanted and what he wanted was for you to stay by his side. Permanently. He didn’t want a shallow connection like you had with Amelia and Justin.
✎ A perfect student like you deserved a perfect relationship from start to finish. And he’ll make sure to give you that.
✎ He expects you to be completely immaculate. He has an image of you that you have to follow. He’ll drill it into your mind if he has to. A perfect man needs a perfect spouse. He’ll never settle for less. He’ll wipe all those filthy hook-ups you’ve made from history. Besides you were just practicing for him, were you not? The rumors about your supposed interest in him do no good to stifle his delusions.
✎ He bumps your grades just a little bit after your dalliances to give the impression that he definitely does not want you just for the sex.
✎ What Popular! Reader thinks of him: A total snob. But you do what you must to gain perfect grades and better opportunities for yourself. Even if it means sleeping with that narcissistic man that kept staring holes into your body.
DANIEL CRUZ - THE PRINCIPAL
✎ This man is the very definition of corrupt. He knows of every dirty little secret that has happened in the school grounds and beyond and gets paid handsomely to hide that.
✎ Thus, he’s great at hiding your little relationship with him. From the school and his older wife.
✎ You were his secret as much as he was yours.
✎ You were just so much more beautiful, younger, tighter, than that stupid woman. He only wanted her when he was younger because she looked hot back then but age wasn’t so kind. After she got pregnant with his children she started showing signs of being grotesque so he often brought home other women to their marital bed. He just couldn’t get it hard with her for the life of him.
✎The wife is unfortunately used to his ways.
✎ Ever since you though, she noticed how he brought home less and less different women. Up until it was just you. She didn’t know if it was a relief or a more terrible sign that he’d actually fallen in love with a sidepiece.
✎ She didn’t know how to feel whenever you exited her own room after a night with her husband. A sorry look on your pretty features gave her a mix of anger for you pitying her and relief that whatever her husband felt, at least it wasn’t reciprocated.
✎ Other than his wife and perhaps even children (oh god) however, no one knows of your relationship with him. Not even Ricardo and he knows the most about you.
✎ What Popular! Reader thinks of him: Despite what many thought of you, you viewed marriage as sacred. You only ‘cheated’ on Justin because you didn’t want him to get killed. Once a promise is made it best be kept and treasured.
✎ And Daniel broke the most beautiful promise of them all.
✎ He’s one of the few people you actually strongly felt for. Unfortunately for him, it’s disdain.
A/N : This is the most filthiest thing I’ve written on this blog so far. I need to take a bath of holy water after this.
#hns.txt💬#hns.ask💌#midnight darling#yandere#yandere x reader#tw.yandere#tw. age gap#tw. cheating#tw. infidelity#yandere ocs x reader#yandere ocs#yandere ocs x you#yandere x you#yandere original characters#yandere professor#yandere teacher#yandere fic#yandere headcannons#yandere x reader smut#yandere smut#yandere smut x reader#yandere oc smut#smut
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jealous
[izogie x reader]
summary : you’re the king’s first wife, the one he trusts the most. You’ve loved him for so long but after years of him being with other women and his other wives, you became lonely. The only person that was there for you was Izogie, one of the most skilled warriors in Dahomey. She’s been there for you in more ways than one.
It’s early morning. Too early. But as usual, you’re the first up. You’ve always loved early mornings and you always will.
“There’s so much going on, y/n, I can’t let the Europeans stay.” Ghezo speaks to you as he massages your waist with one hand. You stroke his arm and kiss his temple.
“I trust you’ll make the right decision, my king.” You whisper. It’s what you say every time he’s having trouble making a decision. You run your short nails across his coarse and thick Afro to soothe him. He leans into your touch, his stubble tickling your collarbone.
The two of you always have mornings like these. It feels like the start of your relationship, when you were the only one he had eyes for. When he didn’t seek anyone else. Your king and his queen.
You remember when you were both younger, less aged and more excited. You’d wake up together, rinse your faces and he’d finally get to wear the Royal garb he’s wanted to wear. You have mornings of bliss, with you sitting on his lap on the throne and talking about nonsense.
You were his first wife. The first woman to ever win his heart. You were going to become a part of the agojie but your beauty caught his eye.
“How do you always know what to say?” He asks and all you do is give him a smile before kissing his cheek. All that you know to say, you’ve borrowed from your one true love. Izogie.
You place a hand on his chest, right above his beating heart before kissing his forehead.
….
you walk through a sea of trainees, watching them train with each other, laughing and grinning as they do. They pause to bow for you and you can’t help but smile. Oh, how you wish you had continued being a soldier. The hot sun beats down on your body as you continue to walk.
You run a hand across your forehead, taking in a deep breath as the sun does it’s work on you. A familiar hand squeezes your waist.
“You must not be in the sun like this, my queen.” Izogie’s voice lightly teases behind you. She’s too close for comfort but you can’t blame her. You take a step forward so her hand is no longer on you and stand next to her.
She looks just as beautiful as she did last week when you saw her. Her chest and biceps are glistening with a mix of shea butter and sweat. Her nails still sharp as ever. As she moves you hear the leather and shells clacking against her pretty skin.
“I’m used to the heat.” You say, smiling as a fellow trainee walks past you. No one suspects anything between the two of you. Your friendly nature is reknown throughout the kingdom and no one dares accusing the first wife of the king of doing anything like adultery.
You crave izogie; you need her more than the throne, the king or anything he has to offer. Her eyes trail down to your reddened-lips. You feel stained with the king’s touch and you need her to wash it all off.
“I will see you around, love.” She whispers only so you can hear before turning around and going to correct some trainees.
“You’re moving like a SLOTH!” She yells, looking back at you, smiling before correcting a the frightened trainee.
…
It’s late at night, the only reason why you’ve been able to sneak out is because the king is currently in bed with his third wife. You can’t be noticed because of the simple white robe you have on, your curls are out, untouched and a mess but you don’t care. Completely opposite of your normally kept look. The only way one would be able to tell is if they saw your face up close.
You end up in front of izogie’s hut, the one she’s built herself. You see the light from her lantern illuminating the inside before her hand grabs you to pull you in.
Her lips crash against yours as her nails graze your scalp.
“I missed you.” You admit, kissing her lip and then her neck and her shoulder, feeling the muscle bulge beneath her pretty brown skin.
“You as well, darling. I love your hair.” She whispers lowly, exhausted from all her fighting and hiking for the day. She gently kisses your forehead, like your made of glass.
“Long day?” You ask, laying against her broad chest.
“The longest.” She replies as her nails slowly rake down your back, leaving goosebumps in their wake. She smells like wood and shea butter that she mixes with something you can’t put your nose on.
You notice the little set up she has, a single mat laid out to sleep and a small bowl of stew she had been eating, made by the chef here. You both end up sitting down in front of each other, her face beautifully lit by the lantern as you speak.
“Had I known you were coming, I would prepare another mat and get you more food.” She sighs, feigning irritation as you hold the bowl of half eaten stew. You bring it to your lips and savour the taste.
Yes, the palace offers the tastiest food but nothing beats a well-cooked meal, one that’s made straight from the village. Oh, how you’ve missed it.
“It’s okay, my love, I’m comfortable here,” you grin as she sits up and grabs the bowl from you.
“Let me go get you some more.” She insists and you know better than to try to deny her so she leaves you with a peck on the lips before exiting the hut.
You get comfortable, laying down on the mat and taking in her scent. You don’t even hear her walk back in so her voice startles you.
“Getting comfortable already?” She asks. You turn around only to find that amused grin on her face as she settles a steaming hot bowl of stew in your palms.
“I don’t mean to bother-“ you begin.
“Eat.” She interrupts as she rolls her eyes. She moves toward you and settles right behind you so your back is flush against her front. Despite how many times she fights a day and how aggressive she can be with her trainees, she’s so soft with you. Impossibly soft with you.
Her eyes are practically glued to you and you’ve gotten so used and comfortable with it. But you don’t understand how one can stare at you so lovingly with a mess of curls and stew staining the corner of your mouth.
You finish the stew in no time and she kisses your temple before speaking.
“Maybe he should start taking your favorite meals into account.” She jokes and although you know it’s a joke. You so desperately want to laugh but you can’t. Ghezo doesn’t know anything about you, anymore, not a single thing, not your favorite activities, or your favorite meal.
But izogie does, she knows you like neutral colors, that you love taking naps even though it’s impossible for you to, she knows you love playing music and that you can’t swim for the life of you.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to hurt you by saying that,” she apologizes as she strokes the soft skin of your thigh.
“I know…I just—you’re right.” You agree as you lean back. She crosses her arms around you and kisses your shoulder. She grabs the wooden bowl and sets it aside from your grasp while lowering her hands to your hips.
“I will always be here, however you need me to be, darling.” She promises and with all that sincerity in her voice, you can’t help but feel how deep her words go. She would go to war for you and you know it.
You both breathe in and out, together.
…
You and Izogie spent the night together, she spent more time reassuring you that she would be there for you, in more ways than one and leaving reminders for you to look at throughout the next week.
Her grip on you was desperate, she eventually let go of your throughout the night, allowing you to turn around and face her.
You turn over on the small mat that can barely fit the two of you. The sun isn’t up yet and neither is your lover. You look at Izogie’s face, her face free of wrinkles and body relaxed against your own. Her uniform is on the floor far from you and you admire her while you can.
The relationship isn’t purely physical no but Izogie is attractive and you can’t deny it. She has so many scars from training and fighting but she’s so beautiful. You cup her face in your palms and gently kiss her plump lips.
She scoots closer, still half asleep and mumbling while she wraps an arm around your waist. She rests her face in the crook of your neck as she continues to sleep. She’s full of warmth, so much of it that you want it to envelope you for years to come. Her lashes flutter against your collarbone as she continues to move around.
“Izogie,” you speak her name like a prayer. She hums from deep in her throat and if you weren’t exhausted from last night you swear you’d have another round with her.
“I must go get cleaned up, accompany me, please?” She’s never denied you and she doesn’t see why she’d deny you now. You chuckle as she blinks her eyes open. You use your thumbs to wipe the crust from her eyes as she stretches awakes.
You both get up and she stuffs spare towels in her arms as you wear the white robe you were in previously.
“Why must you move so slow?” She grins already dressed by the time you finish up getting dressed.
…
You’ve never really like the water. And you’re sure you never will but when Izogie is on you the way she is. And her hands are doing their job, the water feels like it barely exists.
“Izogie, what if we get caught?” You ask as her body breaks through the surface of the steaming water. She hums and shrugs without care like she wants to get caught, almost like she wants everyone to know that she’s yours.
“Then so be it.” She murmurs while fiddling with your waist beads that sit beautifully on your waist.
Ghezo crosses your mind. He would be furious if you left him for Izogie. She’s a strong warrior, stronger than he’ll ever be. It would upset your people, everyone around you. It would break your heart to watch all the other wives and your own people turn on you.
But you want her more. You want her more than you know. You want her more than Ghezo, more than your people and more than those wives.
“You think too much.” She points out, gripping your bare hips and pressing gentle kisses to your neck. She tilts your head back while running her hands down your curls. Her nails dig into your scalp, massaging the worries away.
You feel so soothed that your vision begins to blur. She scoops up water in those hands of hers and runs them down your hair.
“I know you‘ll have a choice to make, I know what you’ll pick,”’ She whispers, wet lips trailing down your jaw.
“How are you so sure that you aren’t a choice?” You question, picking up your head to look at her troubled face. She chuckles but not her regular one, there’s so much sadness masked behind it.
“Y/n….He was there before me, you love him, he’s a king while I am just a warrior.” She says blankly. You’ve never seen izogie so unsure before. Insecure, almost.
You cup her face so she’s focused. Her torso melts into your own.
“I love you.” She erupts, her heart beating so fast that her chest moves against your own. Your lips press against each other, forcing a shocked groan out of her.
Her lips linger for a moment, letting your lips graze before you begin to speak.
“I love you too.” Neither of you know how long this is gonna last. It could end tomorrow. In a year. In a month. Either way, you’d pick each other each and every time, now, then, and anyday in between.
[please let me know what you think via comments :)]
playlist: who hurt you by Daniel Ceasar, yebba’s heartbreak by Yebba + drake, say yes by floetry, shame by summer walker, none of your concern by jhene Aiko, promises by jhene Aiko, 20 something by SZA.
@sweetalittleselfish-honey @xenaizogie couldn’t tag anyone else :(
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Lowkey fuck cheating izuku, reading how he committed adultery made my blood boil. Cheating is bad in and of itself but he heard ochaco insult his wife (who gave him 5 children) by saying she was stretched out and still had sex with her like put him in the electric chair. Also I feel like he doesn’t feel THAT bad about it bc he didn’t even come clean, his wife had to find out herself and I feel like hes just sad he got caught. Especially if he had sex with ochaco more than once, even after she insults his wife to his face, he’s just irredeemable to me. Like how does he go back, how does he continue to cheat on his wife with someone who says hurtful things about her, how does he continue to do something he knows would break her heart, break up their family?? Like if he’s such a good husband deserving of forgiveness, how could he do it multiple times and still not feel guilty enough to stop it or tell his wife about the affair himself? Anyways, sorry for the rant 🫠 your writing is so good it makes me passionate lol
Honey I LOVE rants. Don't apologise. I do have a few things to say however, despite your perfect rant that sums it up pretty well.
I hate cheaters. I hate what they do. I hate what they did. I hate their reasoning. Everything. But as a daughter to a woman who has been cheated on and stayed... I understand why she did. And I have the DEEPEST respect for people who do that for the sake of their families.
Izuku was (implied) intoxicated when Ochaco approached him first. He wasn't in the right state of mind when she insulted YN calling her stretched out. He was too high, quite literally. If he wasn't, he probably would have thrown her out his balcony.
Everything from that point on... THAT was his fault.
(I low-key want to write what would have happened if he went home straight after)
Izuku had the mentality that "I've royally fucked up and if I hide it and deal with it, I can cover it up like it never happened." But when he tried to cover it up he just cheated again... and again. And got winded up in his nonsense.
Just shows... go to your wives they'll fix it cause you cant.😒
But you dead right.
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Unwanted Marriage | Chapter 5 - Adultery
Series Masterlist
When Natasha wanted you to accompany her to a place, you didn't expect her to take her private plane and fly you to another city. "Where are we going?" You asked. "To visit my mother. I think she would be happy when she sees you." She grabbed your hand like it was the most natural thing for her to do. "But I did not prepare anything." Throughout your days with Natasha, you started being more comfortable with her, maybe even more comfortable than with your own family. "No need to be scared, she is not the person whom you are thinking about." Truthfully, you were thinking about the lady you saw at your wedding, but if there's anything to go by how you saw her dad, you weren't sure if what you saw was the real her.
Even after the flight, there was still a long ride to wherever she was leading you. You saw the view outside your window change from the city to the mountains until the car stopped in front of a cemetery.
Sensing your thoughts Natasha explained herself. "My mother got into an accident and passed away when I was young. It's nothing, don't worry about it."
You watched from a step back as Natasha paid respect to her.
Mum, this is the wife I chose, she is nice. I don't even want her to leave my side for a second. I don't want to be ever separated from her. I didn't understand you at first, but now, I do...
===
"Are you sure it's Millenium Hotel, room 1806?"
Stephanie arrived in front of the indicated room and started banging on the door. "Marcus, open the door! Do you hear me? Marcus, open the door, I know you're in there! Open the door!" She heard the door unlatch and was expecting her boyfriend behind, but was faced with you clad in a simple shirt.
"Y/N Y/L/N? It's you! You bitch!" She charged at you, catching you by surprise as you tried to backstep into the room. You stumbled as you backtracked, further aided by the push your sister added and landed on the floor. "Y/N Y/L/N! You're so hypocritical! You're already married to Natasha Romanoff, why do you have to seduce Marcus!? He's mine, only mine!" Her rage blinded her as she straddled you and slapped you on your cheeks. "You bitch! Don't even think of snatching him away!"
Just as she was about to land another slap, a hand stopped her by the wrist and it was by the hands of Natasha Romanoff. "Na-Natasha Romanoff?" She glanced at you before looking back at Natasha again. "Yes, it is me. Or have you forgotten who I am?"
"What is going on?" Stephanie thought she entered Marcus' room, not only did she not see him, Y/N and Natasha were there, or was it not what it seemed? "You thought Marcus was here? And my wife is together with him?" Using her core and arm strength, she threw Stephanie in the corner, knocking her out cold.
"Are you alright?" She gave you a hand in standing up as your head pounded. "I'll be fine."
"Throw her out! I don't want to see any cooperation between Romanoff Corporation and Y/L/N Limited in the future!" Natasha instructed Clint.
"Stephanie?" Marcus happened to come out of his room when Clint was dragging her out. "What are you going to do with Stephanie?"
"Mr Lancaster, this has nothing to do with me." Clint tried to explain. "If it's not you then who is it? Stephanie has fainted and if I didn't coincidentally walk past, where would you have brought her to?" He took Stephanie into his arms as Natasha wheeled out of the room. What a coincidence that their room was right opposite his. You stepped out after her and faced your ex-boyfriend. "Y/N? Why are you here?"
"We are here on our honeymoon."
"Then what about Steph?"
"Then you need to properly ask your woman. She suddenly ran to the door saying to catch adultery." You caught him gritting his teeth as he forced out his words. "I'll personally apologise when I find out what happened." He went back to his room with a bang on the door. With all the noise, you felt bad for those who were staying in the surrounding rooms.
"Clint, go find a doctor." You immediately told Clint not to and that you were fine. "Applying some ice would reduce the swelling in no time. You go ahead, Clint." Natasha didn't say anything until she took some ice from the mini fridge and placed it on your cheeks. "Something on my face?" She asked when she caught you staring at her. "Yeah, your beautiful face." You were getting bolder by the day. "Silly you."
In the opposite room, the atmosphere was vastly different. Marcus was calming down and smoking at the balcony as he waited for Stephaine to wake up when he felt arms around his waist. "Marcus, how are you?"
"You got someone to investigate me?" He asked without turning around. "I-" She pulled back abruptly, she didn't think she would be seen through so quickly. "Is it true?"
"I didn't!" She was quick to hold his arm again, begging him to believe her. "Marcus, what the hell is wrong with you?" Marcus pushed her hands away. "I gave you a chance to confess and it's you who didn't want it."
"No, it's not like that! Hear me out!"
"No need." He had already packed his bag and was ready to leave. "Don't leave, Marcus. Marcus! I know I'm wrong. I swear I won't investigate you anymore, really!" The door closed and she was faced with the reality that she would be alone.
===
Natasha didn't allow you to head out when your face was still bruised and handprint present until the next day. You checked yourself in the mirror and was glad that it was finally back to normal. "Natasha, I have recovered. When can we go out? You see, I'm alright." You showed her. She brought her hands to your face and pulled you closer. "What- what are you doing?" You blushed at the proximity between you and her, just a little more and you would be touching. "To see if it's really alright."
Smiling at the approval of finally going out, you changed into your new clothes and started visiting the city for real.
"Y/N, I have something I want to tell you, let's find a place." Marcus came out of nowhere to ambush you and Natasha.
In the end, you indulged him with Natasha and went to a cafe together. Natasha was purposely feeding you all she could to irritate Marcus. "Y/N, I have broken up with Stephanie." You showed no interest in him and continued eating. "I said, I have broken up with Stephanie."
"I heard it!"
"So..."
"So what?"
"Is there no way we can get back together?" That earned a side eye from Natasha. "No! Not even in the future."
"How can it be..." He clenched his fist and stood up. "It's her, right?" It's all because of her right? Because you need her to support the Y/L/N family, so... so you rejected me!"
"It is because of her, but it is because I love Natasha that's why I rejected you. But you have my thanks for breaking up in the first place, because of that I am able to be with Natasha." Natasha felt a surge of pride at your confession. "This is a famous dish, here, have a taste."
"Y/N, you don't need to be afraid of the Y/L/N, I will deal with them, you can just trust me!"
"Are you done? Clint, see him out."
"Mr Lancaster, please. If you don't go, I would have to take other measures." Finally he left his seat and walked towards the exit. "Mr Lancaster, please let me give you a word of advice." Natasha started. "No one can always make the correct decision. Do not regret it, since you have already made that decision. Sometimes, it's just an action that changes one's fate." Natasha was fiercely protective of you and wouldn't let anyone covet you.
The day went on with peace as you went to a flea market. You even tried to put some sunglasses on Clint who tried refusing but was unsuccessful with your relentless advances. Even Natasha whose words said she would never put it on, ended up purchasing the one you placed on her.
You were relaxing at a cafe, hiding from the afternoon sun as you took bites of your parfait. Natahsa's phone rang and she picked it up, immediately thinking something wrong had happened with the company. "Hello, Dad, did something occur at the company? I'll be back at night."
"Those senior managers can take care of the company. You and Y/N should enjoy yourself for at least 10 days, don't bother to come back."
"Dad, Y/N has to go to work tomorrow."
"What work! Work is not that important as compared to your honeymoon!" Natasha hung up the phone once she realised there was nothing important that needed her attention.
===
Back in your own bed in the house, you received a message from the class representative you haven't heard from in a long time. There appears to be a class reunion the next day and he was reminding you to attend.
You decided not to attend, you were naive and innocent back then and did not maintain contact with your friends other than Marcus. You genuinely don't think you would mix well with your friends now.
You went to work as normal the next day, making sure you weren't going to be late as you checked your watch. You furrowed your eyebrow when you saw Marcus outside your company. Maybe he wasn't here for you, so you decided to ignore him and continue on your way.
"Marcus?" You said when he grabbed a hold of you and put you in his car. "Marcus, what are you doing?!" You tried opening the car door, but it was locked. You demanded to know what he was doing, but he only told you that he had requested a leave of absence for you. You have no idea what the company was doing, approving leaves without your presence and knowledge. "This is not about asking for leave! I'm not going! You let me out of the car now!" You shouted at him, but he only drove off. "Then you should tell the class representative yourself, I'm just taking orders."
You remained silent for the rest of the car ride until he brought you to the destination. "Y/N!" You ran off once he unlocked the door and shouted for any cab that was available to take you. "Y/N, since you're here, don't be stubborn."
"Marcus! Y/N!" The class representative came out and called both of you. "Why didn't you call since you are here? If I hadn't come out, I wouldn't have known you'd arrived."
"So sorry, I have something on at home, so I can't attend the gathering today." You said. "Y/N, don't be so stubborn, it won't take long."
You couldn't blame him for misunderstanding the relationship between you and Marcus as his hands were on your shoulder as he was trying to hold you back. "I can finally understand. You two are fighting, so you are angry with each other, right?" You couldn't stand Marcus' smug smile when the class representative thought the two of you were together. "We broke up long ago." You clarified immediately. "Broke up?"
"All women lose their temper when arguing, I am accustomed to it."
"Nowadays young people argue and break up easily. A slight quarrel can add fun to life, but just don't overdo it."
"Today's gathering is definitely precious, but my husband and I need to visit an elder family member, so I really need to leave." You gave him your apologies before walking away and getting into the first cab you saw.
Your colleagues were surprised to see you there when you entered. "Y/N, your friend said you didn't feel well so you wouldn't be coming in today..." Wanda said when you sat at your table. "That person is not my friend. You all please don't take whatever he says seriously." You said it half to her and to Millicent to make sure they understood where you come from. "I saw him come here for you before, I mean that tall and handsome guy." She described Marcus from what she could remember.
"Right, how can you two just be friends?" And of course, Sharon was there to hear of the conversation. "He is your secret lover! You're so arrogant. First it's Carol Danvers then Natasha Romanoff appointed you directly for an interview. This time Mr Lancaster helped you take leave!"
"Thank you, Sharon, for your concern for a newbie like me. I will work harder from now on." Wanda covered her mouth to hide the laugh.
"I shall see how long you can be this arrogant! Once your sugar daddy is exposed, I'm going to get you out of the green light sooner or later!"
Series Masterlist
@natsxwife @franfineashell @dvrkhcld @reginassweetheart @marvelogic
#natasha romanoff#natasha x reader#natasha x you#my writing#natasha romanoff imagine#natasha romanoff fanfiction#natasha romanoff x reader#black widow x female reader#black widow x reader#unwanted marriage#mcu x reader#marvel#avengers
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I've just realised something about John's creepy sand art.
He was scooping indentations in the sand, making big, print-block child’s letters with the tip of his forefinger. As she watched, he made a pothook—J—then the finned spine of E. He wiped that E clean, and replaced it with A. He wiped that clean, and he drew the prison bars of H. This J and H he barred around with an uneven heart.
Because you know who else has a significant drawing in the sand moment?
Jesus bent down and wrote with his finger on the ground. And as they continued to ask him, he stood up and said to them, “Let him who is without sin among you be the first to throw a stone at her.” And once more he bent down and wrote on the ground. But when they heard it, they went away one by one, beginning with the older ones, and Jesus was left alone with the woman standing before him. - John 8:1-11
There's no consensus on what Jesus is writing here. But a woman has just been brought to him who had apparently been caught in the act of committing adultery and Jesus was being asked whether she should be stoned to death. Amongst the theories about what he's writing are the sins committed by the men accusing her - they leave because they are confronted with the rot in their own hearts.
And here's John Gaius, whose litany of sins leading up to his dollar store Jesus plagiarism have just been laid out in his own words in the preceeding chapters, writing his own sins in the sand.
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Over the Falls Ch. 3: Churn
Sexy Banner & bar by @borabae-gx
Summary: Jungkook sees a lot of things as a pool tech. It’s… fine. It pays the bills between mornings on the water and evenings rocking out with his garage-band. His favorite thing to see on the job has been Grace Birch –older but a hottie, wealthy but nice, and unfortunately very married. At least until Grace learns what her husband has been up to behind her back. Now that she’s free, Jungkook finds himself wondering: what does it take for a guy like him to catch the eye of a woman like that?
Genre: Poolboy Jungkook x Rich Divorcee OC
Tags: Age gap (older woman), socioeconomic gap, Surferboy JK, drummer/guitarist/vocalist JK, Wealthy divorcee OC, househusband
CW: Mature/Explicit, Infidelity (not between JKxOC), language, alcohol, recreational drugs, lots of explicit sex, ageist/racist/classist remarks down the road, outdoor sex, beach sex
Chapter Two | Masterlist | Chapter Three
“GRACE!”
She hated the way her name sounded as a shout. The gr got swallowed, the a dragged out, the c punched too hard. Tim had always said her name in a way that sounded like an insult, she just hadn’t realized it until now. He rarely called her by it, only if he was angry or disappointing her, pleading for her to accept an insincere apology.
Grace pulled her phone out and opened the voice recording app, as instructed. When her divorce attorney had given her these tips, she hadn’t thought she would need them. She’d been more focused on her regret that she wouldn’t get to see Tim’s face when he got served the papers. He’d be so shocked. He didn’t know she knew. He would never expect her to go through with this even if she did find out –and that had, in fact, been the deciding thing for her. Her husband would make excuses and expect to be forgiven.
Well, she refused. She refused to be that woman. She refused to spend another minute of her time working on a marriage to this man. She’d worried about her decision up until the first meeting with her divorce attorney and then relief had flooded her system so sharp and fast that it nearly carried her away. She couldn’t fucking wait to be divorced from this asshole, who was too stupid and to even delete the evidence from their in-home camera system
They’re always stupid, the divorce attorney –a woman named Lidiya Hel, very good at what she did– told her. Their egos can’t imagine that they’ll get caught. Their egos can’t imagine they won’t be forgiven because they’ve always been forgiven for everything. It’s not like this is the first thing he’s done wrong in the marriage, is it?
No. It was not.
As soon as the backdoor slid open, Grace sprang to her feet, hit record, and announced, “I am recording this conversation so I’d suggest not saying anything you don’t want on record.”
“Grace.” He spat her name and stormed towards her, the yellow legal envelope curled in his hand like a newspaper to hit her on the nose with. “The fuck is this? Divorce papers?”
“Yes. Did you read them?”
“I didn’t need to! I saw the first line and knew something was wrong. I was at work! I was just leaving a meeting with the CEO and this fucktard comes up and asks who I am. I thought it was a shithead new hire! Instead he gives me this shit. At work!”
Grace was glad to hear the play by play and corrected him, “I don’t control when the server finds you.”
“Don’t give me that shit. What is this? What do you mean, divorce? First I’m hearing that you’ve got any issues in this marriage and you didn’t even have the balls to talk to me first? Sweetheart, whatever it is–”
“Don’t call me sweetheart,” she interrupted. “That’s what you’ve been calling all of the women you fuck in our home. I’m not sure what you call the ones you don’t bring here.” She didn’t actually know if there were more than the three over the last two years, but she assumed so. Probably on all those business trips.
Tim froze. The fucking idiot. The papers said she was filing on grounds of adultery. He really hadn’t read them. Grace couldn’t imagine the self importance you needed to just walk into a situation like this blindly and assume it would go well for you.
“You can’t be surprised I figured it out,” she scoffed. “Do you realize how much footage I have from the home security system you chose?”
“You’re bluffing and it’s not a good look for you,” he countered. “You don’t have the login for the account. It’s in–”
“I’m your wife. It was no problem at all to get it.”
Tim froze, like she’d paused a video, for an insanely long moment.
“Now… now look here. I…” he restarted.
Actually, this was even better than seeing him when he got served. The emotions moved so rapidly across his flace she couldn’t name them, but she did know they indicated a usually brilliantly-quick mind trying to pick its angle. He was quick on his feet, that was why he did so well at his job. What would he choose: play the victim? Blame her? Beg for forgiveness? Rage about the invasion of his privacy?
He glanced at the phone in her hand and laughed, “What do you think you’re doing, sweetheart. I can toss that in the pool and there goes your precious recording.”
“Ruining my property, I think that’s technically assault.”
“Just because your head-up-his-ass father is a lawyer doesn’t make you one. I’m sure he’s– no. No, I didn’t mean that. You’re just catching me by surprise right now. I’m not going to break your phone. What, did you think I was going to do something violent?”
“Maybe.”
“Grace…”
“Turns out I don’t know you at all.”
“Oh come on,” he sighed, and looked away. He was still deliberating. He was trying to buy time, trying to calculate which method would get him what he wanted. And she knew he was having a hard time because he couldn’t predict her anymore. He pinched the bridge of his nose and gave another deep sigh. “Grace. I’m sorry.”
She really hadn’t thought he’d pick that one.
“I made a mistake. You’re right.” He nodded, gaze roaming the pool area, her book, her drink beside the lounge chair. “I got carried away… I’m under so much pressure with work, you know that. A few late nights, and… and you working so much…”
“So it’s my fault you fucked multiple women?”
“I’m a sex addict.”
“You’re a liar,” she corrected, “And a selfish prick.”
“Oh, what now, who’s the one calling names on your little recording?” he demanded, as if this was some incredible victory for him. “Here I want to have a conversation about how we can fix this marriage and you’re–”
“You’ve got to be kidding me. Fix what?”
“I know you’re hurting right now and in shock… I… I didn’t mean for you to find out,” he said, hands out like he expected her to slip hers into them. “I knew I messed up. I’d already called it off and I was going to come clean and–”
“Yeah fucking right.”
“You fucking bitch, you can’t even listen to me saying I– Sorry,” he interrupted himself again, holding his hands up for a pause and looking away. Grace just stared at him and tried to understand how she had ever loved this toad. “Sorry, I didn’t mean that,” he said. “I’m just frustrated. Sweetheart, I understand you’re hurt and mad. Hey, I’d be pissed too if you were fucking around, but if the situation was reversed and I was looking at it from how you’ve been, I’d hear me out because I love you and—”
“From how I’ve been? How have I been, Tim?” she demanded. “Supportive? Lonely? Dedicated to our marriage and the things that make you happy?”
“Me? The things that make me happy? What’s so hard that you’re doing to make me happy? You don’t sacrifice a damn thing for me, you just peck at my all the time and all the ways I’m not as successful as your dear old dad. Let me tell you what you’re not doing to make me happy is you aren’t… you aren’t supporting me when things are hard at work. You aren’t listening to me now as I’m apologizing and trying to fix this.”
“There’s nothing to fix! You’re a terrible husband but I thought you were at least loyal! I thought you were just a workaholic because I’m an idiot!” She stepped away from him, biting back her own rage so it wouldn’t make her cry. She didn’t want to rage cry. She wanted to stay calm and in control because she had made her decision and there was nothing he could say to change it.
“Sure, now you’re saying I’m a terrible husband, but I’ve made you happy! We’ve been happy together all these years and I’m not the one giving up on our future. Get rid of these fucking papers,” he said and threw them into the pool. “We’re not talking divorce. We’ll go to counseling. I’ll go with you.”
“I’m not going to counseling with you.”
“Oh, but I’m the bad guy? I’m the one who wants to work on our marriage here–”
“We don’t have a marriage, Tim. It broke as soon as you started fucking around and I can’t begin to understand why you suddenly want to fight for it now.”
“Because I made a mistake and I don’t want to let that ruin the best thing in my life–”
“No. No you did not make a mistake. How many mistakes did you make, Tim? How many women? For how many years? I have proof of at least three and I’m sure more will be uncovered–”
“What, your dad hired a fucking P.I. or something?” His face hardened and it reminded her of the “jokes” he’d made before, about whether her family did that kind of thing, if they’d have him investigated or watched, if they’d ever trust him. He said they were crazy, delusional, then reached his hand out for some of their money. They had done that before the wedding, without her knowledge of blessing. Because her family well knew that money made other people crazy and delusional and willing to do anything to get it from you. There had been nothing to find back then. Or he hadn’t been as lazy about hiding it.
Tim paced, tucking his hands into his armpits as this new thread caught him, and he pressed, ‘What does your dad think about this, huh? Your family all up in arms ready to crucify me when I bet your dad’s done the same thing. It happens, Grace. Men make mistakes when they work with the kind of stakes men like me and your dad do–”
“Stop comparing yourself to my father,” she scoffed. “You are nothing like him.”
“So far as you know, huh, Grace? You’re so fucking naive…”
“Yeah, about you!”
“Daddy’s Girl, worship the ground he walks on. I should have known he’d tell you to leave me. Is that what he said?”
Grace knew it would drive him crazy as she answered, “His reaction isn’t any of your business.” Tim wanted so badly to be liked by her father, despite his claims of not caring. How devastating for her that he would probably be more upset to lose her father’s respect than to lose hers.
“You want me to apologize to him? I’ll do it.”
“It’s over, Tim. I am not interested in reconciliation and it has nothing to do with my–”
“Like hell you’re not! I’ll fight for this marriage–”
“Why?!” she cried. “You don’t want to be with me!”
“Of course I do! I married you, Grace! I love you!”
“You don’t.”
“Don’t you tell me what I do or don’t–”
“You cheated on me! You don’t cheat on people you love!”
“It was a mistake. I regret it! You get that on your recording? You got your little trophy? Turns out when a man is nagged by his wife it gets to him.”
“It’s not my fault!” Grace insisted. She felt like he was spinning around, trying to make her dizzy and confused.
“You want me to grovel? Is that it?”
“If I’m so awful as a wife, why do you even care that I want a divorce?” she countered. “Don’t you want to be free so you can be with those nineteen-year-olds.”
“I would never be with someone under twenty-five,” he grimaced. “And no, Grace, I want to be with my wife.” It was insane, the way he made it sound like she was the one hurting and depriving him here. She had thought her rage and pain had built enough of a bulwark around her heart for this conversation, but watching him lash out like this just drove the point in deeper. Maybe there was a small part of her that had hoped Tim would offer a valid excuse, or that his apology would feel sincere and enough and she could forgive him, love him again, save her marriage.
But all he had to say was that this was her fault and he’d made a mistake. He didn’t seem loving or apologetic as he grappled with a barely-controlled rage that had her checking that the chair wasn’t right behind her in case she needed to run. Tim wouldn’t hurt her physically… right? But two weeks ago, she wouldn’t have expected he could cheat on her either… well. Maybe that wasn’t totally true. Maybe she wasn’t actually surprised by all this. Was that better or worse than being blind-sided? It didn’t matter, she’d never be close enough with someone again to compare.
Her face must have shown some emotion that Tim seized upon, because he reached his hand out and insisted, “Come on, sweetheart. Stop this bullshit. We’ve been together too long. I know I fucked up and I’ll make it up to you. No need to call quits on us yet.”
“Is it because of the prenup?”
The question rolled out without a thought and she immediately regretted it.
What little restraint Tim had held through all of this snapped. Ah, the prenup. The one her dad had insisted on, that she almost hadn’t done in an effort to prove that she loved and trusted Tim. That he was worthy of trust.
“This isn’t about the fucking prenup!” he shouted in a way that made it very clear it was. At least in part. Grace was very familiar with that prenup, having just gone over it in detail with her divorce attorney. Their marital earnings would be split 50/50, but exclude any interest earned on the money either had before marriage, defined as a set dollar amount. Grace’s amount had been much larger than Tim’s. Tim would be safe from paying alimony despite the fact he made more now, unless a judge overruled their prenup on that point. But, probably the most stressful piece to Tim right now, was that he would owe her father the amount he had borrowed to start his consulting business, after his own parents wouldn’t loan him the money because the first one had folded. Grace had been so confident he’d succeed, she hadn’t even felt embarrassed by her father’s insistence on tying the loan to her prenup. She’d figured it was just a way to spare Tim’s ego at accepting the loan, since obviously he would always be a loving, devoted husband, and so it would forever remain just “family money” and not require payback. That consulting business too had gone under, the money was gone.
Until now. Now Tim owed her father $5 million dollars, on top of splitting his assets with Grace in half. She was not actually sure he even had the money, though she suspected he had multiple bank accounts in addition to their shared one. She had a second one, no harm in that, but at this point she doubted him on everything so who knew what he was hiding? So she had squashed her early instinct to be merciful and nodded when the attorney suggested he’s probably been using you for a long time; let’s take him to the cleaners.
“How fucking dare you bring up the prenup? The prenup doesn’t matter! We aren’t getting divorced! You know better than that! There’s no way your family supports you leaving me, we made a commitment to each other–”
“That you failed when you cheated on me.”
“And now you’re failing it worse by quitting! Don’t even talk about it anymore, I won’t go through with the divorce! We’ll take some time off work and go on a nice vacation together and do marriage counseling and then we’re going to put this whole thing behind us–”
“Until you cheat again?”
“Stop talking about that! You think I wanted to do that? But you’re such a bitch all the time and it wears a man down to have someone like you always nagging about what’s going on at work and whether I closed the deal and why can’t I be like your dad! Go fuck your dad then if you think he’s so fucking great!”
“Stop. Just stop talking,” she pleaded under the weight of his words. Probably the whole street could hear them right now, she realized. She was done with this conversation. She wanted it to end. Any sense of victory or enjoyment was now gone.
“No, you wanted to talk about our marriage! Let’s talk! You think you’re some poor suffering wife here? You’re barely a wife! You run around playing at being a real estate agent so you can spend money on that shit you call art and be some queen bee in the Society or whatever the fuck your family gets randy about–”
“Stop it, Tim!”
“Oh you don’t like us talking about you, huh?”
She grabbed her things, phone still clutched in her hand and tried to step around him to get to the house.
He grabbed her arm and she screamed, “LET GO OF ME!”
“Hey everything ok back there?” a male voice called, and for a brief moment Grace thought it was the pool guy again. Wouldn’t that be perfect? And yet a strange rush of relief came with the idea; Grace felt a desperation to hide behind any man who could make Tim go right now. So feminist of her, huh? She hated herself for the impulse and yet…
“Fuck off!” Tim shouted at the interloper.
“Ma’am?” the voice called again and now she could see the mailman by the back gate. “You need me to call someone?”
“I told you to fuck off,” Tim said, stepping around her to march towards the man now. Grace wanted to wilt under the mortification of a witness at the same time she felt a deep gratitude that someone had heard and actually stepped in. Who did that? The mailman! Even if her neighbors did hear anything right now, they were probably sipping mimosas by the window to hear what other dirty laundry came out.
“I’m fine, thank you,” she called to the mailman. “My ex-husband was just leaving.”
“Like fuck I am,” Tim said, whirling on her again. “This is my house. I’m not going anywhere. You do some thinking, Grace, and get your head together quick to save this marriage, because you need me more than I need you. You think anyone else is going to deal with your rich bitch attitude?”
“Who says I want someone else? I’m not shopping around, but I deserve not to be treated like this–”
“Yeah it’s all about what you deserve. You have no fucking clue what the world is like because first daddy protected you and now I’ve done the same thing and look where it fucking got me. Wasting our money on a goddamn divorce lawyer. We aren’t getting divorced!”
The mailman was still there and had pulled out his phone. Grace saw it and tried to gesture not to. Tim didn’t notice. He’d said his piece and stomped into the house, fuming. There was no way to slam the sliding door but he tried and his scream of rage almost cut through Grace’s fear to make her laugh.
But she didn’t laugh. She sank to the lounge chair, her legs shaking, her head throbbing. The air felt static in the wake of his fury.
“You ok?” the mailman called to her. “I can still call.”
“No, I’m fine. I’m so sorry you saw that. We’re… getting divorced and he’s not taking it well.” The first person she had told she was getting divorced: the fucking mailman.
“Good for you,” he said, but it sounded sincere. “I hope you leave that bastard high and dry. You sure you’re going to be ok? You have somewhere else to go?”
“I’ll be fine, but thank you.”
He seemed reluctant to go. She couldn’t believe he’d stepped in so much; she’d never traded a word with this man in her life though she did leave him a gift at the holidays. Merry Christmas, to our postal worker, because she didn’t know his name. Did she really seem like such a damsel? His hesitation twisted her emotions and she began to feel genuine anger. Couldn’t he see that this was embarrassing? She’d said he could go! He should go!
He was gone before the angry words rolled off her tongue, for which she was grateful. But then she was alone and that felt bad too. The yard felt eerily quiet and she wondered what Tim was doing inside. It scared her. She still believed he wouldn’t physically hurt her, but was that only because she wanted to believe that? He might be in there finding some other way to vent his rage: destroying her paintings or smashing TVs or who knew what.
She ended the video. It was long. She couldn’t bear to watch it but immediately sent it to her attorney, then called.
“Grace. I haven’t watched the video you just sent. Is there something wrong?” Lidiya asked.
“Tim isn’t handling news of the divorce well,” she admitted, her breath shaking as she blinked back tears. She felt like he was still standing there yelling at her. “I don’t think I can stay in the house with him. I mean, I can… but I don’t want to… but will I lose my stake in the house then? Abandonment?”
“No, not at all. He has made you feel unsafe. As long as you keep paying your part of the bills, it’s fine.”
“Hold on a second.” Grace looked up at the rumble of the garage door. A car door slammed and then Tim’s car peeled out of the garage.
“He left. I can breathe now.”
“Good. Catch your breath and go pack your things. Stay with a friend, family, hotel, it doesn’t matter. The disclosure is hard if the other person doesn’t see it coming. I won’t lie and say this will be the only hard part, but you will get through this and I’ll be right there with you.”
Grace wanted Lidiya to tell her she was doing the right thing, that this divorce was the right step. She knew it was. But it was one thing to know it and another to have Tim standing there yelling, twisting her around, making it sound like she was the cause for failure. And she hated this. She didn’t want to leave the house! She couldn’t pack up all her stuff so quickly so she’d have to leave things behind and hope he didn’t destroy them in his rage. She didn’t want to stay somewhere else. She didn’t want to admit to her friends and family any of this was happening, and staying somewhere else was a concrete step towards admitting this was happening. She loved this house! She hadn’t loved married life to Tim but she could pretend she had, to mourn the things she had thought were good. She wanted to keep lying by the beautiful pool, but Tim had ruined her day just like he had ruined everything else.
September
“So then she grabs my ass,” Jungkook explained, “and laughs. Like, right in my face with her nastyass cigarette breath.”
Yoojin reached around him to pull the cabinet open and search for a sippy cup lid, nearly clocking Jungkook in the head from where he sat on the counter.
“That’s so gross. Did she try to pretend it was an accident?”
“No. She asked me what kind of body oil I use. I was just sweaty! It’s fucking ninety-eight degrees out there today!”
Yoojin crinkled her nose and said, “That’s disgusting.”
“I know!”
“No, I mean you being that sweaty. Have you thought of getting a doctor to look into that?”
“Shut up, asshole,” he laughed, trying to kick the back of her knee as she sauntered away.
“Hey, not in front of my son!”
But Max not only wasn’t in the room, it would be highly unlike him to repeat anything he heard, despite their best efforts. His first birthday had just passed, but he still had only a few words he reliably used, much to Yoojin’s panic. She’d recently implemented a rule that everyone had to only speak English to him, in case speaking two languages at home was slowing him down. Eomma insisted he was clearly smart and just didn’t have anything to say yet, but it was a sore subject, likely to send Yoojin into a shrieking fit, like she had when Jungkook asked if the pediatrician had said anything about it. He still didn’t know if she’d even asked about it. He didn’t think fear or shame were a good reason not to ask the pediatrician though, even if it was them doing something wrong.
“Yeah, how would he feel to hear his mom is victim-blaming, huh?”
“I’m not victim blaming. If you’re so pissed about it… I don’t know. Tell your boss you won’t work at their house anymore or something. I thought you dealt with this all the time?”
“Not all the time. It was worse when I was a cabana boy, and those fuckers didn’t give a shit what we dealt with from guests. The guest is always right.” He shuddered. The tips had been phenomenal but ultimately not worth it. He still started on the defense around older women drinking by a pool or beach, at least that kind of older woman. You could always tell. Just like he’d known Mrs. Abigail Pender was trouble since he’d started working for them. He hadn’t thought she’d actually grab him like that, but he’d never felt comfortable around her. Just tried to be polite when she’d so brazenly flirt with him. Apparently all it took was three margaritas (she’d been bragging) and the encouragement of her friends (they’d been drunk too, watching from the patio.)
Jungkook still felt shaky about the whole thing, even though that was embarrassing too. It wasn’t like he thought Mrs. Pender was going to harm him or anything. But who knew what a pissy white woman was capable of? She’d looked shocked when he’d pried her hand off and said, “Please do not touch me, Mrs. Pender. I’m just here to clean your pool.” Like she’d actually thought he came by to flirt or something?! Now he debated whether to tell Bob about the incident or wait to see if she’d call to file some bullshit complaint. That had happened multiple times, and though Bob had been understanding about the call from Limpdick Birch a couple weeks ago, if this was the second woman complaining about Jungkook, at what point would Bob think Jungkook was doing something to cause it all? He wasn’t! He was just cleaning the fucking pools!
Well, except for the Birchs, where he had involved himself and was no longer cleaning the pool. He’d asked someone else to cover the last month of their cleanings for the summer and worried that was just going to make him look bad in light of any complaints from Mrs. Pender.
“Yeah, but I mean as a pool guy. Maybe you need to wear more clothes or something? Don’t look at me like that, I realize how it sounds but this is how it goes for women all the time. We should be allowed to wear whatever we want and not get assaulted. It doesn't mean we can.”
“It’s hot and I work outside,” Jungkook defended. “At least if a guy grabs you, you can deck him and everyone will agree it’s deserved. If I deck an old lady, I’m getting sued and going to jail.”
“Ooof, it’ll only be worse in prison.”
“Yoojin, that doesn’t help!”
“I’m sorry,” she sighed, screwing on the lid of the sippy cup and sloshing apple juice onto the counter. The sink was piled with dishes even though she and Max had been the only ones home for lunch. “What else do you want me to say? Cougars are gross. Get a different job.”
But Jungkook didn’t want another job. He sighed noisily as she left the kitchen. Yoojin wasn’t usually his first choice to complain to, because she tended to be unsympathetic at best, and usually just found a way to insist her story was worse. Yeah, Jungkook didn’t envy her raising her son alone –but she wasn’t really “alone.” She lived with his parents. Jungkook babysat a lot for free.
“If jobs are so easy to change, why don’t you have one?” he demanded, chasing after her.
“Get off my ass, I’m on round two of an interview!” She slapped at his arm. “Don’t make me sound incompetent in front of Max!”
Max had been reaching for Yoojin but Jungkook scooped him up, hotly defending, “I didn’t make you sound any way. Besides, if I quit my job, I probably can’t babysit for free anymore like this. You want to pay me?”
“You aren’t babysitting,” she immediately complained. “You’re uncling.”
“I’m letting you mooch off my time,” he insisted. But then, afraid she would actually take it as a complaint, he spun Max around and added, “It’s his fault, he’s too stinking cute. It’s hard being the favorite person but ah… a burden I must bear.” Max giggled and squished Jungkook’s cheeks and babbled. “Hey, do you think he just said ‘uncle’?”
“No, I don’t think he just said uncle. I wish! He won’t even say ‘mama’! What the fuck, right? Hey, next time one of the old crones hits on you, why don’t you just play dumb and point out they’re old enough to be your mom?” Yoojin asked. Her eyes sparkled like this sudden idea was the clear and obvious answer to all his problems.
“But they’re into that, that’s the problem,” Jungkook snorted.
“God I wish people thought I was old enough to be someone’s mom. I’m so sick of people asking if Max is my baby brother. Like what the fuck?”
“Language, Yoon. Or ‘fuck’ might be his next word,” Jungkook scolded her just to get a rise out of her. She opened her mouth, probably to let another string of curses out, butEomma and Appa swung the door open, back from grocery shopping. “Not a word about my work thing,” he said quickly to Yoojin. The last thing he needed was Eomma and Appa worrying about his job security or health and happiness. One time they’d found out about a woman harassing him as a cabana boy and they had actually gone to the resort to talk to his boss about employee protection and the next thing he knew, Jungkook was looking for a new job. The resort swore it had nothing to do with that, but Jungkook knew. Even though he couldn’t hate his parents for it, they had just been trying to help when there had been so little they could do for his brother. Not that they’d ever admitted that was a part of it, but honestly, marching into a resort to complain?! We didn’t come here for our children to be treated like this! He didn’t want them to think he needed that kind of help. He could take care of himself.
Besides, it wasn’t like Jungkook didn’t ever flirt to get good tips or reviews. He didn’t do that now, at least not with any women who would take it too far, but back then… eh, he’d hooked up a couple times with guests too, which was technically what he was fired for…
<“Eomma, Appa, I said I’d go shopping with you,>” Jungkook scolded in Korean, carrying Max over.
“Stop talking in Korean around him!” Yoojin cried. She was ignored.
Eomma assured him, <”We don’t need you to go grocery shopping with us. We had the time together.”>
<”You work tonight.”>
”Bye Eomma, Bye Appa, I’m going to my second interview. See? Speak English like that,” Yoojin said, trying to slide past them after she kissed Max on the head.
Appa’s face screwed up as he asked, “An interview dressed like that? What is this company again?”
“It’s a catering company, I told you. I have to look nice.” Now Junkook looked at her outfit and also thought it looked a little off for a job interview with a catering company. Her short black dress was pretty tight, and her heels were nothing like you’d wear to show you knew how to cater food and she had a small purse. Small purses meant date.
“Are you going on a date?!” Jungkook hissed, clamping a hand over one of Max’s ears as if to protect him. Max was far more interested in Jungkook’s shell necklace than in whatever his mom’s secret plans might be. “Am I babysitting for you to go on a date?!”
“No! It’s not a date! It’s an interview, I swear! I just dressed nice!”
Jungkook didn’t want to dig in too hard in case it was true and he made her cry –she could turn it on like a faucet in front of their parents and then he’d look like an ass. But Appa raised his eyebrow, also not convinced, and shuffled past with two bags of food.
Eomma nodded at her, <”Ok, good luck if it’s a job interview.”>
“You’re all bullies,” Yoojin huffed. It was impossible to tell if she was really upset by their doubt. Jungkook thought her lack of shouting might actually mean she really was going on a date and didn’t want to back herself into a corner confirming it. Jungkook bit his tongue, for now, but only because their parents were there, and Max was grunting like he was trying to poop. Jungkook would change the diaper, but he drew the line at holding the kid while he did the deed. He’d save the brotherly lecture for later. The last thing Yoojin needed to be doing while she was unemployed with a one year old was going on dates! Not to mention every guy she went after was just like her ex, and she threw a fit if you pointed that out to her. If she was going to date, at least Jungkook wasn’t going to babysit for free for it.
He wound up trading Eomma, so she got stuck with the diaper while Jungkook carried in the groceries and did his best to help put them away with some guidance from Appa. He’d wanted to help with the shopping so Eomma wouldn’t wear herself out before her shift at the nursing home; she was working nights this week.
<“Aren’t you supposed to be at work?”> Jungkook asked Appa, before realizing it was Thursday so Appa had Go night at the community center in K-town. His days were off. He blamed it on not cleaning the Birch’s pool yesterday. He wondered if Mrs. Birch had noticed someone else came by, or if she’d even cared. Probably she was relieved. For all he knew, she’d called to ask for a replacement anyway and Bob just hadn’t mentioned it yet.
<”You and Max can come with me tonight,”> Appa suggested.
<”It’s tempting but uh…”> Jungkook scrambled trying to think of an excuse, before settling on, <”Yoojin told me not to take him there. You know, she just wants him hearing English. Maybe she mentioned that.”>
<”That’s not the problem! He’ll talk when he’s ready, in English or Korean!”>
Jungkook shrugged. At least the excuse worked. He didn’t feel like sitting around listening to Appa and a bunch of old men play games and talk about sports and weather. He had thought about taking Max to the beach to get him used to it early, but diaper bags were almost as much of a hassle as getting sunscreen on a baby, and after his morning, he didn’t feel up for it. Plus it was hot out. Maybe they’d go for a walk later or maybe they’d just play inside.
His phone buzzed in his pocket and it felt like he’d stuck a staple in an outlet. He left Eomma and Appa debating what to eat for dinner since both of them would leave early and carried Max with him back to what had become Max’s room once he moved out. He knew it would be Bob’s name on the screen before he even got his phone out of his pocket.
“Yeah, Bob? What’s up, man?”
“Hey, JK. I just got off the phone with–”
“It wasn’t my fault,” Jungkook blurted out. “I didn’t flirt with her or anything, she was just drunk and gossiping with her friends and then grabbed my ass.”
“Uh… who’s this now?”
“Shit. Uh… who did you get off the phone with?” Jungkook asked. He looked to Max for a shared grimace but Max saw toys now and squirmed to be let down so he could play. Jungkook collapsed onto the rug beside him and began nervously stacking blocks.
“I was just calling about the Breslins, they said they want to keep the pools at their properties open through the winter and it looks like it fits into your schedule now that you dropped the Birch house but what’s this about?”
“Ah, just… an incident with…”
“JK, man, I told you, you gotta tell me if there’s an incident. What house?”
“Pender. She got drunk and grabbed my ass. I told her not to touch me and that I was just there to clean the pool. She said some other things but went back into her house and I finished up and left, that’s it.”
“Pender, Pender…. Oh that’s why that name is familiar. You’re the second poolboy then. I don’t give third chances, I’ll let her know we’re dropping her account.”
“Wait, what?!”
“Good, that frees you up for the other Breslin properties. I’ll email you the new schedule.”
“No, wait, Bob, you can’t just drop a client, can you? Aren’t they going to… I don’t know, sue or review bomb or something?”
Bob’s chuckle over the line reminded Jungkook how much he actually did like this job, as he said, “Sometimes. And then what am I going to do, say she’s got to stop assaulting my pool techs. And then she wants to take me to court to prove it didn’t happen, and everyone’s talking about it now? Nah, she’ll bitch to some friends about what a shitty company we are. These people are petty but they’re lazy, and if it’s a repeat offender, they probably don’t want anyone opening the closet door. A couple people start coming forward, suddenly you’ve got a dozen people saying she’s assaulted them.”
“Bob…. thanks. I thought…”
“I’d fire you? I know I may not look like it now, but I was quite a looker back in the day. You think I never caught any eyes or wandering hands? I don’t have much, but my company and dignity are two things that can’t be bought. Well. Company might be bought if it was a really good offer…” He gave that jolly laugh of his again. “See you Monday, mandatory meeting.” And hung up, just like that, no problem.
Jungkook wanted to weep. He’d had enough overbearing, shitty bosses to know Bob was a real one. Not only was he not fired, he had a new schedule now. No Mrs. Pender. No Mr. Birch. No… Mrs. Birch. Which was for the best. It was. It was for the best that he wouldn’t see her again as she debated whether to stay with her shithead husband or go through probably a messy divorce… Yep. For the best. Not his business. He was just the poolboy, remember?
As relief surged through him, Jungkook took hold of Max, rolled onto his back and propped his nephew on his feet to airplane him. Max shrieked with delight; this had been one of his favorite games since he was little.
“Wait, you didn’t just eat, right? No spitting up on me, ok? Hurray, airplane Max!” Jungkook cheered, doing leg lifts with him because if he couldn’t make it to the gym or beach, might as well get some fitness in before their jaunt around the neighborhood. Jungkook was so relieved, he had the energy for adventure.
“Hey, maybe let’s head to the beach after all. You want to? You want to see your uncles and some crabs? You want to be a surfer baby? Yeah, let’s do it.”
January
Grace let out a sigh of relief when she stepped out of the terminal at LAX and felt warmth finally seep back into her bones. Seeing her family for Christmas had been nice, but she was glad to be away from Missouri’s brutal snow and windchill.
Just about the whole extended family had gathered, which was rare these days. Sure, she would have preferred spending the holiday with only her immediate family in Chicago, but maybe it had been better this way. It had meant more options for distraction every time someone tried to bring up her divorce, and fewer opportunities for one on one time that might lead to inescapable questions. Of course everyone had wanted to talk about it. It wasn’t a thing anyone in their family had done before. Ever. Her extended family’s horrific responses a constant reminder of that fact, everything ranging from aren’t you embarrassed for people to know your marriage failed? To well what was going on at home? Men cheat when something is wrong at home and that’s the wife’s domain to keep happy. She found herself wishing her family would just go back to making subtle digs about her weight and diet like they usually did. Not that they missed an opportunity to warn her to cut back on the stress eating and take up some activity, no need to let herself go.
Her immediate family… well, they seemed to be following her lead in just not talking about it at all. That was for the best. Even if some small part of her was desperate to talk to anyone except her attorney about it because fucking hell it was miserable!
She checked her email as she waited for a cab, fully expecting an email from Lidiya with some new bullshit Tim was trying to pull. Mediation was not going well, despite the ironclad prenup. Tim wanted to fight her on everything, and dragged his feet about the information he was required to share, and kept trying to find bullshit “leads” to chase down like he was a real detective. She couldn’t fathom what his play was: this was only going to end in divorce, and he was going to exhaust his finances long before she did hers. Lidiya had suggested he was hoping to burn through their cash without understanding that the court could require him to pay her legal fees alongside his even if he didn’t have the cash at the moment.
But now that the blinders were off, Grace had a new theory. She thought Tim might just not truly understand how money worked. Just like he hadn’t seemed to understand how their prenup worked, or how a marriage vow worked, or a home security system account, and certainly not how she worked. He’d made clear at every turn that he expected her to change her mind and realize she was making a mistake. Maybe that was truly the reason he was making this so miserable, to “give her time” to realize she was wrong.
No emails had come from Lidiya during her flight. No contact from Tim, either, which she carefully documented. Every text, every phone call, every “drop by” her rental condo to “give her stuff” after he’d somehow found out her new place. It wasn’t illegal to go near her, since she really had no grounds for a restraining order, but it was definitely annoying and stupid, clearly just an excuse to see what she was doing, or maybe as an intimidation tactic.. Grace suspected he was hoping she was having men over so he could try to counter that she had been unfaithful as well.
Part of her wished she had. As she watched the city pass outside the window, buildings spreading further apart and climbing into the multistories of wealthier neighborhoods of Santa Monica, Grace found herself again fantasizing about the petty things she’d rather be doing than fighting Tim in court. How delicious would it have been to be the one who cheated on him? To get her world rocked by someone else and then have Tim discover it and hurt as deeply as she did. Some hot young successful man Tim could never hope to compete with. A guy even came to mind, that art collector, Namjoon Kim. Intelligent, sophisticated, successful, a total hottie, and Tim hated him. He’d be perfect. How beautiful to get some sort of justice.
But there was no real justice to be got and she was not actually going to pursue something with the mild-mannered guy, especially not as vengeance against her ex. Hopefully she’d get the house, that might be a small justice. She loved that house. In fact, her mother had pulled her aside and offered to help buy the house out from Tim if she needed the money for it. It was the only reference to the whole thing her mom had made, and kindly meant, though Grace wasn’t sure that she wanted to co-own her own home with her mother. But it might be the only way…
As tempted as she was to drive by the house now, she worried Tim would be there. Possibly with someone. She didn’t want to let on that she really wanted the house or he’d obviously make it impossible. She tried to make it sound like she intended to stay permanently in the furnished condo she was renting. It was nice! But it felt nothing like a home.
Maybe she should get a pet? The thought struck her as she walked through the door. She could. Her family growing up always had dogs but she’d wanted a cat for as long as she could remember. Tim liked to say he was allergic but really he just didn’t like animals –which in hindsight ought to have been a warning sign. Not for the first time, Grace considered all the warning signs she had ignored. The rosy glasses of love really were more like blinders.
Grace set about unpacking her bags. Unpacking was obviously the worst part of travel and she usually procrastinated it but there was nothing else to take her time right now. She didn’t have a single active real estate client at the moment, no houses to stage or sell, and she enforced a strict “no paperwork” policy during her holidays. There weren’t any tv shows or movies she felt like watching, and she’d just sat on the plane for hours anyway, so not in the mood for reading either. Her fitness classes had already passed for the day and she hadn’t signed up for a general gym membership, though it had been on her to-do list because this condo complex didn’t have its own –one of several compromises she had made just to find somewhere fast.
God, do I really not have any hobbies? Grace collapsed across her bed and stared at the ceiling. That felt like a failure to her. She came from a family of always-doing-somethings. Hunting, riding, jet-setting, painting, hosting, visiting, gambling, taking up whatever club sport or craft struck a fancy and then abandoning it when it no longer served. Grace had ribbons from a half dozen sports lined up like a museum in the bedroom her parents still kept for her at their house but she didn’t fence anymore, no pool, no horse. It had been nice to ride again in Missouri.
She pursed her lips and considered tennis. She’d loved tennis. Hadn’t played it in a while, because she and Tim used to do that together and then he got too busy working –and fucking, probably. A game of tennis actually sounded good right now, without Tim.
But it would require inviting someone, and Grace didn’t even bother to pick up her phone to consider it. She had always thought of herself as adequately social, she had plenty of “friends,” but going through this divorce had made her question everything she’d hinged on that word. After overhearing the gossip about herself at the third party she had attended without her husband, she had decided to take a break from the social scene —which would inevitably lead to more gossip. It felt like letting the rumor mill win, but what was she supposed to do, clink a spoon against a champagne glass and confirm that yes, she was divorcing, because her husband had fucked around and she wasn’t wiling to overlook it? All these adequately-married couples she’d thought were her friends for years only asked after her to try and get the dirt on why her marriage failed. They expected her to be ashamed for the wrong reasons. She didn’t want to admit she hadn’t been enough, hadn’t been right for her husband; they wanted her to realize how stupid she was to let a stable-earner, social-charmer like Tim go. What was she going to do now, be alone? Boys will be boys. Just forgive him!
A few people had reached out in ways that felt sincere. Megan blew her phone up every couple of weeks when she went for brunch with “the girls.” Eva from the club had invited her to check out the new gallery opening she patronized, which seemed thoughtful and not geared towards gossip or lecture. Stephanie, who Grace had known since they were girls and had moved to LA only a couple years before, just sent condolences and suggested a girl spa-weekend/ski trip “without the boys.” Kindly meant, even if it revealed the rumor mill had reached her; Stephanie was a different social circle than the Santa Monica club, but Grace hadn’t told her about the divorce.
Grace had brushed everyone off. As she and Tim warred over who would “keep” which “friend” group, Grace found herself doubting who she could trust. Abigail Pender, after hosting one of the parties Grace attended, apparently reported Grace’s presence to Tim, and afterwards she’d received a scathing voicemail from him saying he had known the Penders longer so she shouldn’t go to their parties anymore. Even though he hadn’t gone! And maybe he’d known them longer, having met Mark Pender on a golf green, but she was the one who’d put forth the effort to build and maintain the friendship –mainly because he thought Mark could be a useful friend for him, business-wise. She’d done that with all of them! Tim had always been happy to carry a case of beer to a cookout, or fire up their own grill, but she was the one who planned the events, bought the meat and beer, made sure everyone was having a good time, followed up for the lunches and fishing trips and whatever else got mentioned to make sure these things actually happened.
All that effort and Grace felt like she’d lost it all. Now she finally began to understand the warning her mother had given when Grace had finally called home to say she was divorcing: “Divorce is like burning the house down and you’re still in it, Grace. Really think about this.”
Would she have done anything differently? She couldn’t say. But she did know it was really fucking lonely now, not knowing who were actually her friends. She missed her house. And she felt pathetic, lying there on her bed, not sure what to do with her time. Tim didn’t own her hobbies, so why couldn’t she think of any? She’d been putting so much energy into her marriage and the social network Tim required to feel secure and connected and successful.
Damn, did that make her as bad as everyone else? But the social networks were just like that. Sometimes you genuinely like the people you invited to dinner and other times it was because there was some business or family connection, or potential, or some unspoken duty to be friends because your distant cousin had married the niece of their best friend.
Now Grace had failed the social contract by leaving her two-timing (well, at least four-timing) husband and she didn’t want to hear about it anymore. She didn’t trust anyone. She didn’t want to risk getting asked about it more, as if it was a news headline that affected them all but not personally or emotionally. She was very personally and emotionally affected! Didn’t anyone want to talk to her about something else? Was poor divorced woman all they saw when they looked at her now? She had been someone before her marriage, and during her marriage, and she would be someone again soon!
Once she figured out what she actually liked without Tim’s opinion weighing on her shoulder.
Once she discovered which foods she actually liked instead of the ones they’d ordered just because he did.
Once she figured out how to reclaim her social life from that thieving new-money bastard.
Once she could find a place to live that didn’t look so cold and generic and neutral. She knew neutral colors were all the rage now. This was what new money thought elegance looked like, she’d heard that plenty of times from her mother.
Ugh, what did Grace like? What did she want to do?
Grace wanted….
Grace liked….
Grace didn’t want to be in bed right now, so she showered and changed clothes to get the smell of travel off. And she walked to get a coffee from down the street just to be among Californians again.
Then, on an impulse she decided to give into, Grace drove to the animal shelter. It was almost shockingly easy to fill out the paperwork. She didn’t know whether her rental allowed pets but didn’t care, she put her address as the house she was determined to move back into once mediation granted it to her. She googled a vet reference on the way, assuming they wouldn’t check –they didn’t– and listed her sister as her personal reference, assuming they wouldn’t call –they didn’t.
“Shouldn’t they make it harder to adopt?” she mused on the way home, carrier wedged into the front seat beside her, back seat packed with a splurge worthy of her sister’s shopping habits.
Foam said nothing, just peered through the mesh with the big eyes that took up an odd amount of his face, one ear flicking. The nub of his other ear swiveled when she turned the car.
“Almost home,” she said. Suddenly Foam let out a high-pitched yeowl and turned a somersault in his carrier, then curled up in the back. “Sh sh sh, almost home.”
The narration wasn’t important; deaf little Foam couldn’t hear her anyway, but that hadn’t stopped her from talking to him at the adoption center and it wouldn’t stop her now as she hauled the carrier and bags into the condo. She would order a cat tree for him, and a better scratching post, and whatever else struck her fancy, but at least for now he had bedding and food and toys and treats to mark this completely new chapter of his life. From kill shelter to rescue agency and now to life with Grace, she hoped this was going to be a better future for both of them.
As soon as he was out of the carrier, he climbed her like a tree; she flinched at the pinpricks of his claws until he’d reached her shoulder, trying to nestle himself onto her chest like he had at the center. That’s when she’d been a goner. He couldn’t hear her but he could feel the vibrations of her speech and had purred and nuzzled beneath her chin and really Grace had almost broken down in the room as she stroked his gray and white fur. The rescue thought he might be a Singapura-American shorthair mix but Grace couldn’t care less what he was. No one wanted this beat up scrawny deaf kitty, and Tim hadn’t wanted her.
“Fuck Tim, you’re all I need,” she beamed, arms around Foam as she swayed.
Apparently he didn’t even need a period to warm up to her, which would have been understandable. She would never know what his life had been like in the five years before he’d got to her, but that didn’t matter either. Suddenly the future looked so much better; already Grace was thrilled to hear the padding of little feet as Foam explored his new home. He shadowed her as she did a pass to make sure there wasn’t anything obviously dangerous for a cat and put on some music and grabbed her laptop to read more about cat ownership. She wondered if Foam would be the kind of cat who’d be happy hiking on a leash or in a backpack…
She’d always wanted a cat and now she had a perfect one. Maybe building the life she wanted, only for herself, wasn’t going to be so bad after all.
March
A lot of people kept their pools open year-round, but there were still enough to closed them for the winter that March always saw a surge in business. Jungkook had spent the winter working mostly on commercial properties, which was stable and all, but he was glad to see his schedule shift back towards more private residences. Not that he liked dealing with snotty rich people, but there were plenty of middle class families too who didn’t treat him like garbage. And hey, maybe his ego could use a little stoking from the non-handsy variety of women, just the ones who admired and flirted a little, because winter had not been kind to him in the dating sphere. Teona had come back into his life for a whole month before deciding he still hadn’t grown up enough. He’d had a string of dates that he shelled out good money for only to find himself ghosted or even blocked afterwards. When he’d drunkenly demanded of Jimin “is it me? Am I a creep?” his friends had taken the shit out of him a little too well. He was still bothered not to know whether they were just teasing or really did think he was a fuckboy.
The tide was out on dating and Jungkook saw spring as a chance to refocus on work and surfing and the band and let the universe steer his dating life for a while. Probably straight into a wall, but if he was going to end up there anyway, he might as well blame it on the universe.
“You’re hot but you don’t have any substance,” he murmured, repeating the words his latest date via an app had provided when he asked if there was any particular reason she didn’t want a second date. He’d liked her. He had thought the question would reflect well on him, and anticipated her answer being something like oh the sparks just weren’t there or you’re great but I realized I just don’t have time for a relationship right now. Maybe even I realized I was going to fall too hard and fast for you, it scared me. Nope. Hot but no substance.
What did that even mean? Jungkook had so much substance! He had hobbies and interests! He cared about his family! He was good with babies! He played the guitar and drums and sang and worked out and he could cook. He had a stable job and only played a reasonable amount of video games and he knew how to listen. Wasn’t that enough?! What else did women want??
He was still grumbling to himself as he parked at the Cool Pool Inc. building to confirm his schedule and grab a company truck for the day. Bob had sent them out the night before, but Jungkook had a few questions. Namely, about the typo on his schedule regarding the Birches.
“Huh? The Birches?” Bob finally said, looking up from his computer on the third repeat. “Oh, you’ve still got the house but it’s not the Birches anymore. Didn’t you look at the addresses?”
“Yeah but it says the Hessers. Did you mix up the address?”
“No. They bought the place, Birches don’t live there anymore and wherever they moved, I dunno, they aren’t using us anymore.”
Jungkook’s brow lowered in thought. That couldn’t be right. Granted, maybe there weren’t Birches anymore if Mrs. Birch-or-whatever-her-name-was-now had gotten her head on straight and left that twichy-dicked corn chip. He looked at his list of names again but didn’t see her name listed anywhere.
“Maybe they changed their name,” Jungkook suggested. “Or I mean, she did. Did we get any new customers from another address with the first name… Cornelia?” It was just a name, but he felt wrong to say it, like he wasn’t supposed to know, even though it had always been written on his schedule. Hers had been the primary name on the account: Cornelia Birch, even though she had introduced herself to him as “Grace” that first time he’d cleaned for them. It had made sense to him, in a way, that she wouldn’t give her real name to be used casually by a contractor. And ‘Mrs. Birch’ had felt like the proper way to call her anyway –in the beginning because that’s just a thing he did, to charm the rich white ladies with his manners, but later because calling her by her name would have felt intimate or wrong. They weren’t on the same level. She was older and rich and he would just have felt weird about it, ok? Calling her by her first name or a nickname, like they were casual friends. Besides, was she really called Cornelia? That was such an old lady name… He kind of liked that about her though. She had a weird name, and people always thought his name was weird too.
Bob’s eyebrows lifted. He smacked his lips and glanced at the computer as if going to check but then answered without checking,
“Nope, no new Cornelia anything. Why, you looking for her?”
“No,” Jungkook quickly assured him. “Just… you know, she’s the one who was so serious about their pool, just wanted to know if she closed the account or just moved to a new house–”
“And changed her name?”
Jungkook shrugged, “I dunno, divorces happen…”
“Or you want to know if Timothy Birch’s calls complaining about you cost us an account?” Bob countered, like he could see it all before him.
“It wasn’t my fault he complained about me, he was just like that. I hope for her sake, she did leave his ass, he was an asshole.”
Bob chuckled at this show of passion and shook his head, lecturing, “Marriages are a complicated thing, son. Maybe you’ll get it someday. But no, no Timothys, Cornelias, or Graces, Birch or otherwise.” He was already feeling nervous that Bob would think he’d been involved as much as he had been though and didn’t want to dig in more.
“Ok,” Jungkook shrugged. “I got my schedule then. See ya, boss.”
“Keep it fresh, JK,” Bob said, one of the phrases the younger employees had taught him. He was a good one, that Bob. Jungkook waved over his shoulder as he grabbed the keys to his truck to head out.
And yet, he couldn’t shake the suspicion from his mind. So… did that mean Mrs. Birch and Slim-Jim Dick had divorced? Or just moved somewhere else? He decided to hit up the new owners of that residence first, but still half expected it to be one of the Birches up until he knocked on the front door to introduce himself.
“Great,” the man, Adam Hesser, greeted him with a firm handshake. “We were told by the previous owners your company had been managing the pool so I take it you know what to do? We’re going to keep it open year-round so just keep it nice, our kids will use it a lot. Let me know if you need anything.”
Jungkook nodded, “Yeah yeah, for sure, man. Hey, so you spoke to the previous owners? Which one? Did they say where they were moving?”
“No, I didn’t really, they just had a list of previous contractors.”
“Ah, ok. I’m glad they recommended us. I’ll keep it looking good, head on back on there now. Nice to meet you, Mr. Hesser.”
Gone. That made Jungkook think they’d divorced although he couldn’t be sure. Maybe the Birches were the kind of people who’d decide they had to do everything and anything to save their marriage and they’d moved to Spain or something. Even if they’d divorced, Mrs. Birch might have moved somewhere else. Maybe she wasn’t even in the area anymore, or maybe she didn’t have a pool, which he’d feel sad for her about since she seemed to like it.
Or maybe she did and had just decided to use a different pool cleaning service.
“Wouldn’t that be fucked up?” Jungkook demanded, leaning in close to make sure his buddies heard him over the noisy bar. Taehyung, Jimin, Hoseok, and Soyoon circled the high-top. Taro was here somewhere too, probably networking. Yoongi had already bailed, claiming he had work early but probably just to get away from the place. He only really hung out at bars if there was music he wanted to catch, and even then bounced the second the bands were done.
“Uh… yeah,” Jimin nodded, but he had a look like he didn’t understand why.
“Because I was great at what I did,” Jungkook insisted. “I kept the pool looking great so if she –if they have a new pool and decided to use someone else instead, it would be personal, right? Because I was the best professionally.”
“Didn’t you have a fight with her in her backyard about whether she ought to divorce her husband?” Soyoon asked. Jungkook glared. Hard. He had told her that in drunken confidence and of course she had then casually mentioned it to everyone else without a second thought.
“Yeah, kinda weird,” Taehyung grimaced. “Almost as weird as giving her a video of her husband fucking another woman that you filmed through their window…”
“Hey!”
Jimin came to his defense, insisting, “It’s because he was emotionally compromised.” Wait, that wasn’t the defense Jungkook had hoped for.
“The fuck does that even mean?” Jungkook scowled.
“Aw, it’s because you always had a crush on her, right?” Hoseok asked, his gaze sliding to Jimin as if to confirm this, or make sure it was ok to say. It wasn’t!
“Not in a real way,” Jungkook defended. “Just in like a… a Stacy’s Mom kind of way.”
“That song is fucked up,” Soyoon huffed. “If you reversed the genders, that would be a felony.”
“Sex with a minor is still a felony but they didn’t have sex,” Taehyung countered. “He was just creeping.”
Jimin made a face and admitted, “Really, you think it was just the guy being horny for her? I mean she came out in a towel while he was mowing the lawn, right? No one is surprised by a lawnmower. She knew he was out there.”
“Do you ever see people do things like that when you’re working?” Hoseok asked Jungkook with open curiosity. “Like in just a towel or–”
“Or fucking someone else in the kitchen?” Jimin laughed and threw his arm around Hoseok’s shoulder. “Yeah, he sees it all!”
Jungkook made a face and admitted, “Yeah, I see the towel thing happen.”
“Yeah and is it ever an accident?” Soyoon demanded.
Mrs. Birch didn’t mean to see me when she came up from the home gym in her sports bra. He kept that memory to himself, since these fuckers couldn’t hold anything sacred.
“Eh, sometimes,” he decided. “Sometimes it’s on purpose, but other times it’s just because they just don’t give a shit about you. Like, you’re not even a real human so what do they care if you see them in their towel? But other times yeah it’s on purpose.”
“What’s that show… Desperate Housewives? Wasn’t someone fucking a poolboy in that? It probably gave all the old ladies ideas.”
“Is that show even still on? That’s really old. My mom watched that.”
They looked at Jungkook, who had to explain, “Uh… I don’t… know? I don’t watch that shit.”
“Oh, you know what show I just saw that was great…” Taehyung said, changing the subject further away from what Jungkook had wanted to do: complain about his lack of closure on the Birches.
He grabbed another beer and pretended to follow along, but mostly he was just thinking about how he regretted bailing on those final two weeks of cleaning at the Birches. If he’d gone, maybe he would know what was going on with them, or where they’d gone. It wasn’t like he expected anyone to leave him a note, but it felt wrong for them to just disappear. It felt… bad. He felt bad. He was the one who had sent the tape and while he was sure it had been the right thing to do, he would like to know that was true from Mrs. Birch-called-something-else telling him how grateful she was. Cornelia. Fucking Cornelia. Maybe that was another reason he always called her Mrs. Birch, he just couldn’t bring himself to call her Cornelia. Or Grace, a nickname, which felt even more intimate?! Cornelia wasn’t a name you could say as you fucked a woman slowly against the side of the pool, and Grace was so short… Gracie might make for a good–
Fuck! Abort! Too much beer! Fuck, he was horny, that was all. It wasn’t about her, he’d just crossed the streams of two different thoughts. Never cross streams.
Besides, now he’d never call her anything. She hadn’t had the opportunity to tell him she was grateful or even just reassure her by her happiness that he’d done the right thing. Which he had. Even if she had not seemed grateful when they’d fought about it.
Damnit, couldn’t a guy get closure about anything? Sure he’d had a fantasy crush about her but he was a good guy, he also just wanted to know that she was happy and doing well. Maybe he could google her…
He pulled out his phone and wandered off, mumbling about getting another beer so no one would see his phone screen as he typed in Cornelia Birch.
A shocking number of results came back. He leaned against the bar and scrolled in disbelief, but the links were all to dense text webpages and he had drunk enough that the letters looked blurry and he didn’t feel like reading a lot right now. Besides, he couldn’t tell if the Cornelia Birch who sat on art boards and was a part of some trust or whatever was her or if it was a common rich white lady name. There were no pictures. Except for a table sold by Wayfair, the “Cornelia,” part of the Birch Lane furniture line. That was kinda funny. White ladies and high end furniture lines, that made sense. He started to type in Grace Birch to see if that got different results, just in case she actually did use that as more than a name to give poor peasants so they wouldn’t sully her proper dignified name when–
“Excuse me, are you ordering or…?” He looked up at the hand on his arm, and the owner of the hand: a pretty blond, tanned and green-eyed.
“Oh, yeah sorry, am I in your way?” He scooted to the side and she pressed in. The bartenders had ignored him but came right over for her. She surprised him by motioning for him to tell his order to.
“Can’t believe they make you wait here,” she said to him.
“You waited ten seconds…”
“No, I mean you. If you can’t get a drink then I don’t get it.”
Jungkook was tipsy and confused. But he nodded and didn’t point out he’d been on his phone and also that he wasn’t sure he’d wanted another beer anyway. But one was brought, and on a whim, he told the bartender to put hers on his tab too.
“You don’t have a tab open,” the bartender pointed out. Which was annoying because they knew him here and that he was good for it. It embarrassed him in front of the girl. He slid his card over and pretended to be smooth about it.
“Thanks for the drink,” she beamed at him. “I’m Mary.”
“Another old lady name…”
“What?”
“Nothing, so, you new around here? Don’t think I’ve seen you before.”
“You know everyone who comes here?” she teased.
“Just about. Except the tourists. You wouldn’t happen to be one of those, would you?”
“No. I live here, I just never come to this part of town.”
He nudged her closer, away from someone trying to get by, as he pressed, “Then what made you come tonight?”
“My girl friend had a date and wanted a backup, you know? But apparently that went well because she already left.”
“Wait… so your girl space friend, right? Not your girlfriend?”
“What?”
Jungkook decided she must not have a girlfriend, he was just confusing them both.
“So… are you leaving then?”
“No. Why, you want me to go?” she laughed.
“Nah. Just checking.” He chugged half his beer to find some liquid courage. He couldn’t believe his luck. A random girl hitting on him in the bar? Great. Perfect thing to distract him from the fact he’d never know what happened to Mrs. Birch. Besides, so what? It didn’t matter. She was just some lady he cleaned pools for.
“So what do you do?” Mary asked him.
“I’m a pool technician,” he answered. “And I also teach surf and work as a lifeguard sometimes.”
“Ah, that explains the muscles. I can tell you’re fit.”
“I drum too. It’s a pretty good workout, no one ever realizes that.”
“Yeah, full body. I don’t play but I mean, I’ve seen people drum.”
He grinned. Yeah, she was into him.
“What about you?”
“Oh, I’m a senior at USC.”
Jungkook swallowed hard and drank more beer to give himself time to count. Senior… so she was twenty? Twenty one? Twenty two at most probably. He was twenty-six, that wasn’t… too bad…
“What’s that look?” she laughed.
“You’re young.”
“What?! How old are you?”
“Twenty-six.”
“What? I thought you were like, my age,” she laughed. “I’m twenty one.”
He tsked and shook his head, trying not to smile and ruin the joke as he teased, “A baby.”
“Hey, you’re the one with the baby face.” Ah, he kinda hated it when girls said that, even if he knew it was true.
“Because I’m Asian?”
“What?!” she gasped. “Oh my god! I would never say that! I didn’t mean it like that!”
“I’m kidding. I know.”
“Oh my god, I am not like that. I don’t care who or what someone is, if they’re hot, they’re hot.” She was clearly really offended by his joke, or maybe too drunk to be calm about anything.
He nudged her and prompted, “So you think I’m hot?”
Within an hour he knew she did. She’d said it enough times, her nails digging into his chest and abs as she bounced on his dick, the springs of his mattress screaming beneath them. He grabbed her hips and pulled her down, eyes slitted so he could just make out the circles of her nipples and the pink folds of her pussy around his girth. She was thin and perky and had an absurd bikini tan despite admitting she never went to the beach. Total California girl in the purchased, store-bought way.
Which was fine by him. She could be from California or New York or Florida or Timbuktu for all he cared right now. Her energy was great; his drunk brain felt like a tornado of pleasure touched down where her body stroked his.
“We’re going to break your bed,” she giggled.
“Nah, I would have broken it by now.”
“Oh my god, you’re a dick,” she giggled, and slapped him on the face. He didn’t love that but it wasn’t hard enough to hurt. It wasn’t like a dealbreaker or anything. He definitely wasn’t going to pull out for that. It just seemed wrong for this younger girl to do something like that in sex. If someone was going to slap him… ah, Mrs. Birch could slap him. He thought about it with a grin, sinking into the alcohol-logged fantasy he was drunk enough not to stop this time. He let his hands flop out and spread his legs and surrendered. Mrs. Birch could do whatever she wanted to him. She had that fit body but with way more curves than Mary. Small tits were fine but Mrs. Birch’s were bigger, they’d bounce. She had some jiggle to her thighs. If he grabbed her by the ass, he’d get at least a handful. Mary’s assbones were pulverizing his thighs. But Mrs. Birch in that white swimsuit, maybe a size smaller so her body started busting out of it…
Jungkook grabbed Mary’s hips and nutted pretty quickly after that, wordless at the rush of pleasure as a mental image of Mrs. Birch with swollen nipples straining against a white wet suit filled his head in the moments before it all went blank. He rolled Mary onto her back and got in a final stroke and gasped for breath back into his lungs. When she pushed against his chest to get him to sit up, he sat there just gasping while her eyes and hand roamed his stomach, her other hand rubbing herself furiously. He watched with the kind of fascination he always had for a woman cumming: it was a beautiful thing no matter who the woman was. This fake-beach babe looked hot as hell spasming around his spent dick and he made sure to tell her so as he gripped the condom and eased himself out of her.
“You think so?” she taunted. “Because your eyes were closed a lot.”
“Nah, just hard to keep ‘em open when it felt so good,” he assured her. “Trust me, I was looking.” She’d rolled onto her side and he smacked her ass.
“Ouch, too hard,” she complained with a giggle. And reached behind him for the blunt she’d pulled out earlier but abandoned when he’d pulled her shirt off.
He padded to the bathroom to rinse off and toss the condom, then accepted the blunt when she handed it to him, one arm crooked behind his head in absolute relaxation. Balls empty, brain empty, best night.
She was just nice to him, that’s why he wanted to know whatever happened to Mrs. Birch. Not enough he’d actually look through those google search results or anything. He was just curious. He just wanted closure because she’d been nice to him before and he didn’t feel great that the last time he’d ever see her, they’d had a fight. Hopefully by now she had realized he was right.
“Hey,” he said after blowing smoke towards the ceiling. “If you were married and your husband cheated on you, you’d fucking divorce him, right?”
“Geez, proposing to me already?” she giggled and took the blunt back.
“No, I’m just saying, that’s what you do, right?”
Mary nodded emphatically, “Yeah, this is the 21st century, no woman should stay with a cheating piece of shit.”
“That’s what I’m saying. You get it.”
“Oh my god… you aren’t married or anything, right?”
Jungkook laughed loud and gestured, crying, “You saw my house! I live with a bunch of dudes!”
“Oh. Right. I wasn’t really thinking about anything like that.”
“Just thinking about my dick?” he grinned.
“Yeah, and how bad I wanted it,” she agreed, rolling against his arm. “And it did not disappoint.”
“See? That’s what I’m saying,” he said again. “You get it.”
“Yeah, I got it good.” Just as Jungkook started to gloat, she asked, “Hey, you got anything harder than this?”
“Than… what?”
“Than pot.”
“No. Take it from your elders, don’t do anything harder than pot,” he snorted. Just like that, warm cozy fantasy of success with Mary started to crumble. Ugh. What was he even doing with a college-age girl he picked up in a bar? One clearly surfing for dick and apparently coke too?
No. No regrets. Not while his dick was still twitching with satisfaction.
“You’re not my dad,” she snickered, before whispering into his ear, “Unless you want me to call you ‘daddy.’”
“You call me daddy, I’m going to spank you a lot harder than that,” he warned. Honestly, he wasn’t really into the name but he also didn’t want to chase her off with a denial. Not when he felt this good. Whatever, he could play along. He could stomach being daddy for another round…
She handed him the blunt and watched him; he felt her gaze even with his eyes closed in the low light.
“Are you thinking about someone else?” she asked. “Who were you talking about? Someone cheated on who? Your sister or something?”
He nearly choked as he sat up and insisted, “Yeah I am not thinking about my sisters while I’m fucking.” That made her laugh harder. She choked too, coughing hard as she took the blunt back to set in the bowl on his nightstand.
“Then who?”
“Nobody. I just knew you’d understand.”
“Yeah, I’m great like that. Hey, can you spot me money for a lyft back home?”
“Just spend the night, I don’t mind.”
“.... no thanks. You’ve got like a lot of laundry in here…”
“Yeah, tomorrow is laundry day,” he lied, but her criticism made him run a little colder.
“Yeah it was just an observation. I have class early though I gotta go.”
He sighed and pushed himself out of bed to see what cash he had. Only a twenty, which she gladly took before ordering a car that would go on her card anyway. Damn college girls. He got her a glass of water and made sure she got in the car ok before returning to his room. There wasn’t that much laundry in his room. Maybe he’d been in a hurry changing between surfing and work and going out but so what? He hadn’t expected to bring someone back tonight. If she was so particular they could have gone to her place. She probably had laundry everywhere too.
Dizzy now between the pot and alcohol, Jungkook realized with regret there was no way he’d drag himself out of bed in time to catch the morning surf. He had lifeguard duty and family stuff this weekend too, and band practice Sunday, so tomorrow morning was his only chance. And now Mrs. Birch was gone and he had missed the last two cleanings at her place because he’d been too sulky about her being mad at him. He’d fucked, that was great, his balls were drained, but at what cost? Was it really worth it? Was something wrong with Jungkook to wonder if maybe other things in life were even better than sex–
Wait, Mary had early classes on a Saturday!?
Chapter Two | Masterlist | Chapter Three
#jungkook ff#jungkook fanfic#jungkook x oc#jeon jungkook x oc#over the falls#jeon jungkook ff#jungkook smut#jungkook series#jungkook au#poolboy jk#jungkook domestic fluff
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► akuma ﾟ｡ ⋆ is there any room for me?
► chapter summary ﾟ｡ ⋆ the past few days of your life we’re unexpected, yet so much fun. people seem to come a lot in your life… and also leave.
► chapter warnings ﾟ｡ ⋆ nsfw. growing sexual tension. cunnilingus (oral — fem receiving). violence. use of weapons. mentions of blood and wounds. mention of murder.
► note ﾟ｡ ⋆ woah… i realized how much potential this story had and just whipped this up and rereading the whole thing. i missed akuma dearly,,
Dear Mom,
Checking out on the party before it had even started — you’d be shocked with the most recent news. You’re missing out on the fun, you know? All the plans we set out are now in motion. And you’re missing it.
But I’m missing you much more.
So much more.
I have so many questions for you. So many I wished I had asked, but I spent that time crying next to your cooling body. Now I’m left questioning myself.
Mommy, am I strong?
Am I still the strongest?
Even if I don’t feel it?
“R…” You opened your mouth, all of the saliva completely dispersing and leaving you stuck with cotton. The smallest step forward and your husband was grabbing your arm, stopping you. You on the other hand was just too shocked to even care. “Rika? Wh… How’d you know where I lived?”
“I followed you.”
Weird. “Um…” You’re trying to mentally piece together how you were gonna crack this one. “How are you alive? I— They captured you, right? That’s what they said.”
“They didn’t catch me.” Her voice is silky and posh. She’s holding herself with such good demeanor, you wouldn’t be able to tell she struggled half her life. “The woman they captured and killed was not me, yet another one of your father’s previous affairs. She threatened to tell the rest of your family members about his adultery and she was hunted down around the time I fled. They just covered my story up with the poor woman who lost her life.”
That’s absolutely heartbreaking. Not necessarily surprising, though. Your family is sick and twisted.
The metaphorical armor wrapped around you dissolved into the air, brushing past the skin on people’s faces. You felt empathetic towards her now.
“I’m not here to hurt you.” She continues, wary of her surroundings. And your husband. “I’m still alive because of my appearance change. They can’t remember what I look like, at least I pray not. I — I returned this morning. Heard your father’s big fight is soon… he had his beloved batch of boys, huh?”
You shook your head slowly, “Nope. Ryou and I will be fighting.”
It was then when you had actually noticed Rika. She was absolutely alluring. The silence was definitely inviting for you to look at her — to examine her. She had her hair cut to her shoulders, a few strands covering her forehead and bringing attention to her doe eyes. The longer she stood there, it was like watching a child. As if she was caught staying up too late when her parents came home.
She wasn’t threatening at all.
“Oh… congratulations,” Rika responds with a small smile, picking nervously at her fingers. She’s clearly spewing thoughts but there’s no way she could get them out of her mouth. “I’m sure you’ve learned a lot from Himari. You will win and change the trajectory of the clan — I know you can. It’s pretty bad, I don’t want another woman to experience what I… we did.”
All that time she’d been standing in front of you, you had forgotten who Rika actually was. What she had been through — and once it all clicked, you couldn’t stop your feet from moving.
You weren’t staring at a threat, you were staring at a survivor.
Escaping the Shio clan, just the hospital alone at that, with a new born baby and taking care of her all on her own with no experience. Starting fresh with no money, nowhere to live and not knowing anyone — yet managing to be alive and well, with a daughter who is in perfect shape.
The power of women.
“I’m sorry.” Are the only words that left your mouth, kicking your heels off in the midst of your walk before stopping in front of Rika, raising your arms to her shoulders and resting on your chin on her bone. “My mother thought you were a trooper. She loved telling me stories about you. You’re like a folklore.”
She returns the hug, giving you a small squeeze. “Am I?” There’s a slight shake in her voice, but she quickly covered it up with a laugh. “I’d rather the attention be on my princess. She’s what kept me going.” She hasn’t hugged anyone other than her daughter, nor has anyone felt sympathetic enough to acknowledge what she had been through. All of this hits Rika like a truck and she’s fighting back the urge to scream up the past twenty something years.
“Thank you.” Rika whispers.
She knows her daughter is good hands — protected by many people now. She knows she’s protected, too. She’s happy now.
The door clicks as it closes, resting backwards against the wood. You sighed softly, bending down to place your heels next to the door, hearing the bathroom door in front of you open.
“How’d it go?” Gojo asks from inside the bathroom, tossing his towel out and onto the floor.
The towel lands slightly ahead of you, rolling your eyes and walking forward to grab it. “Went okay. We had some wine and talked for a bit, she got tired and I let her sleep in my room.”
“I would be too if I were her,” His voice grows closer, alerting you that he’d be in front of you once you stood up. “I mean, it’s weird, right? I wonder why she came back.”
After folding the towel, you held it to your chest and looked ahead of you. All the breath in your lungs halted, stopping you from answering his questions or even responding.
There Gojo Satoru stood — in almost all of his glory. You’d never seen him like this… this close up. The black muscle shirts he wore around the house definitely didn’t give him this much justice; you can see every ripple, scar and crease on his body and it’s absolutely fantasizing. Natural contour and highlight on his skin — you’re almost folding at the sight.
“Uh…” Your voice is a little shaky, you’re so caught up in trying to pretend you’re not warming up from seeing his bare chest. “Yeah. Me too. It’s… weird.”
Gojo looks up from his hands, catching the stutter and sudden shift in your demeanor. He’s got an eyebrow cocked in confusion until it drops and he’s smirking right down at you. This is cute. He’s never seen you like this and now he’s addicted to it.
Speechless, timid and borderline submissive.
“Got somethin’ on your chin there,” His abrupt words cause you to blink hard, forcing your eyes back up go his face. You’re hot — you’re sure that you’re visibly burning up as well. Gojo takes a step forward, causing you to shuffle in spot and he’s enjoying it. “It’s not polite to stare, you know that.”
You’re trying your damn hardest to think of something witty, but your brain isn’t working. If anything, it’s clouded, and you’re not sure what to say without stuttering.
“I just… I noticed some of those scars on your chest and I wanted t-to, uh… just look at them.”
Verrrry convincing.
“You can touch ‘em, sweetheart.”
And so you obliged, reluctantly. Hesitant movements until your bare palm was against your husband’s skin, raising and lowering the stroke to feel every inch of him. There’s a soft shudder under his breath, specifically whenever your fingers brush against newer marks.
All in all, it’s intimate. He’s biting back the urge to grab you by the shoulders and you’re not too far off from begging for it.
Plus, you’ve only got a week. Right?
“Mark your calendars, request time off, set a reminder, and grab your popcorn — watch the Shio Clan’s Generational fight next week, here in this very room.”
Did you want to die being a virgin? Getting married and completing staying celibate, never being able to tell stories to the Shio women up in… whatever heaven was real. They’d talk your head off and call you a disgrace for not trying something so… sexy.
You can just see it now…
(“We saw you down there, married to that hunk of man. Gojo Satoru, right? How was the sex? Oh.. you didn’t have sex? Kiss him at all? No?! What—”)
The thought of going out without at least knowing if he’s a good kisser is making the hair on your arms stand. Maybe it was the wine? You felt like some horny teenager from the movies you watched.
“Would you touch me like this?” You transitioned to dragging a finger down his chest, digging your nail gently over his belly button and following his happy trail.
Right above his boxers.
Gojo pulls his eyebrows together. Is he dreaming? Is his ears playing tricks on him because he’s been wishing to touch you — praying for a moment like this with you? It’s gotta be a dream.
“You want me to touch you?”
Without thinking twice, your hands reached to the zipper behind you. The noise of it unzipping completely catches Gojo’s attention.
Now it’s Gojo’s turn to goggle. He’s gazing at every inch of your body being exposed as the dress fell further and further, and all of a sudden — it’s harder for him to breathe in. Until the fabric pooled at your feet, he’s blinking a lot slower, not wanting to miss a single second.
Normally you’d be extremely self conscious, bare as a stripper for a man you just previously despised. But something about your husband drinking you in like a bottle on the rocks is making your stomach do flips.
And it’s cartwheeling down to your core.
“It’s…” You began, taking a small step forward. “Not polite to stare, Satoru.”
Your husband chuckles, though his voice sounds a bit lower. Even once his eyes raised from your figure to your very own irises, they were way more hooded than before. He’s drinking you up and not missing a damn drop.
One deep breath, Gojo takes the advantage to close the gap between you both. He leans down just slightly, hovering over your height. He’s looking at you like you’re vulnerable, like he’s got the upmost control of you. And at this moment… you swear he does.
The tension is cutting the air with a butcher knife, absolutely murdering it to the point you both don’t know how to breathe anymore. Basic human actions have become tantalizing and you’d both rather drink each other up.
“I can have this thing off in seconds,” Gojo hooks his finger under your bra, tugging you forward by just the slightest. Watching you trip forward, following his moves, even the bounce of your breasts almost had him rolling his eyes back. “Just need to hear you say it, pretty.”
You don’t realize how pathetic or how fast you nodded your head, practically pleading with your eyes, but once Gojo heard those four words leave your tainted lips, he couldn’t help but oblige.
“Please, take it off,” You whisper, batting your mascara coated eyelashes up to the man before you. “Take it all off.”
And what man would Gojo Satoru be if he didn’t keep his word, especially when you asked so politely. Within those last few seconds, your husband closes the gap between you both by pressing his lips against yours. It wasn’t rough, wasn’t forced or rushed — nothing like the kiss you both shared at your wedding.
It wasn’t a goodbye kiss, it was a welcoming kiss. He wasn’t kissing you as if this was your last week on earth, he kissed you as if this was the first day of the rest of your life.
It was intoxicating and addictive, something you never wanted to end.
Once you wrapped your arms around the nape of Gojo’s neck, he reaches down to grab the back of your thighs, lifting you up to his height. Your legs wrapped around his abdomen, securing you around him.
He’s got one hand propped under your ass, holding you up while his other closes the bathroom door behind him, locking it right after.
Whaaaats goin on?
Times moving faster now that you’re having fun, that’s always been something you noticed as a child. Even in this moment, when your husband has you sat on the marble of his bathroom’s countertop, popping your bra off with just one hand, exposing your perky nipples to the brisk air around you, time is moving fast.
His soft, pink lips wrapped around your nipple, sucking and gently tugging at it with the sloppiest and nastiest ‘pop!’ you’ve ever heard — time is moving fast.
Gojo settling onto his knees, two skilled and slender fingers pulling your panties down your thighs, your calves, and then unhooking them from your feet. He’s pushing your legs apart, visibly and audibly falling apart at the sight alone of your glistening, pretty pussy. He swears he saw the light shine off of just how wet you were.
“Fuck..” He whispers, hooking one of your legs over his shoulder. “This okay? I’ll be gentle, I promise.”
You nod,. You’d be damn to admit it, but something about this approval for consent was… sexy. As if he wants you as bad as you want him. Gojo’s asking you for permission.
“Please do something.” Being so bare and vulnerable, all for the man you hated just months ago, had your back arching in attempts to feel something. Anything.
Now you’re begging? Anything else and he might as well bust in his fresh pair of underwear. Gojo promises he’d be gentle… but all he wants to do is shove his face right between your legs and eat you out like it’s the last thing he’d ever do.
Like it’s the last thing he’d ever taste.
He starts slow, licking from your entrance to that little bud that has you twitching, giving it special attention with extra kisses and tugs from his lips. You’re moaning softly, weary of the guest that had been on the other side of the house — nonetheless — you wanted to prevent waking her up and facing your trenched reality.
Your head tilts back, pooring your posture with the slightest buck of your hips. The way your lips press together, fighting back all the noise that threatened to spill from them, it told your husband everything he needed to know.
He was making you feel good.
His tongue flicked at your sensitive bud faster, and his two skillful fingers plunged in and out of your soaking sex, causing wet noises to echo in the halls of Gojo’s bathroom. It sounded absolutely pornogrophic, something straight off the web. This is every man’s dream.
“Taste amazing, baby.” Gojo mumbles under you, tongue out and flat on your pussy. He’s curling his tongue ever so often, catching your eyes and simply grinning at that expression you have.
The look and the smile was just too much for you. He’s clear of the affect he has on you, he’s bathing in it.
Gojo’s forgotten to control himself and now he’s slurping and sucking, licking and lapping up everything you have to offer. Like he’s a dog. The warm feeling between your legs began to grow out to your thighs and your lower stomach, and the better it felt, the more you wanted to push your husband from between your legs.
Gojo doesn’t seem to let up soon. He’s blowing bubbles with his spit on your clit and using his tongue to spread it around. How slutty would it be to cum for the first time … ever … on your husbands face?
“Mmmf — Satoru…” It was a warning call. Your significantly smaller hand reached forward to grab at his soft, milky white and wet hair. The smallest tug got a noise out of him, snapping him out of his completely pussy drunken state of mind and back up to you. “Think ‘m…,” You chuckle breathlessly. “think I’m about to...”
He chuckles between your legs, pulling away for the slightest second and smiling his pearlies right up at you — with a wet smile. “Give it t’me,” Dipping his head between your legs again, aiming straight for your clit. “Make a fucking mess, sweetheart.”
And like the perfect wife that you are, or tend to be, you give his roots one more tug before using your other to grip beside you, mumbling out a string of praises to the God’s above you, before you, and even the one between your legs. Spasming with Gojo’s head between your legs, that warm feeling snapping out of your stomach and crashing over you like a category four hurricane.
Satoru assists you, rubbing your clit with the fat of his tongue all the while fucking his fingers in and out of you, bettering your high. Slowing his movements once your body began to come down; making it all more pleasurable for you.
There’s no way that just happened.
“Fuck…”
“Damn right.” Gojo chuckles, blowing soft air against your swollen and sensitive pussy. He used his thumb to clean his mouth, popping it in and licking the etcetera from the pad of his finger.
He’s up on his feet, still watching you recover from the only yet best orgasm you’ve ever had in your life. Another quick laugh before he steps forward and cups your soft jaw into his hands.
“That feel good?” He asks, more out of curiosity rather than a boost to his ego.
It was nice seeing him like that. Domestic. Vulnerable. He’s always on his toes and doesn’t ever let anyone in — so this… this was nice.
All you do in return was nod and smile, tossing your arms over his shoulders once more and burying your head into his chest. “Mhm.”
“Let’s go shower then.”
“Up and atom!”
A bold voice, one that wasn’t your husbands, woke you up from your sleep. You stirred lightly, peeking one of your eyes open to not only see one person — but several people standing in your husband’s bedroom.
You remember falling asleep with Gojo resting on your back and your head under the pillow, and now that you’ve reached your arm to locate him; he’s not next to you anymore.
“Where…”
“Mornin’ angel.” There’s that familiar voice. That voice that’s given you comfort and a sense of safety.
Oddly enough, you were okay with it.
You huffed, pushing up from the bed to turn and identify whoever had been in this bedroom so early. It was half the damn school, you could say.
“Time to get up, Y/N!” Panda smiles, two fists sturdy on his hips. “We heard you have a week to experience some fun, so we’re gonna spend the next seven days together!”
Seven days?!
You jump up, completely facing the people in the room. Nanami and Gojo are in the corner, small smiles on their face — this is obviously something they planned… while the students were standing around your bed.
Megumi, Panda, Inumaki and Maki — even the two new students that’s working with Gojo; Itadori and Nobara.
You rub your eyes, brushing your hair behind your ears. “Thanks, guys, but you don’t have to waste a week on me.”
Maki gasp, Inumaki also adding a head shake at your response.
“We’re not wasting a week, Shio—sensei,” Megumi sits on the foot of the bed, sending you a soft look. “Everyone cares about you. We want to make sure you have a nice week.”
Nobara and Itadori share a look. They’ve never seen Megumi act so caring, even if he expressed it with a straight face.
You only had small interactions with Megumi, but considering he didn’t have much family left, everything you did within the span of knowing him meant a lot.
Even if it was bringing him lunch, scolding Gojo for him, helping him inside or outside of school. The small things built up and he can’t imagine seeing anything happen to you.
“Yeah,” Maki is trying to contain her excitement. She’s got her hands behind her back, fighting a smile. “Plus, we’re gonna incorporate fighting into the stuff we’re doing! Building muscles while creating memories.”
This is odd to you, foreign even. You’ve never had someone care about you, cared if you lived or died — and now these people want to give you a week to remember, encouraging you to spend your possibly last week alive wisely, with them, while having as much fun as possible.
You look over to Gojo, who’s got this smile on his face, one that hasn’t budged since he’s seen you wake up in his shirt; and then back to the kids. This is what it feels like to be wanted. Not just by your mother, but by everyone.
Now you’ve got to fight back tears. You haven’t cried since the death of your mother, and the overwhelming feeling of actively being appreciated by people is starting to jab at you.
No crying. Not yet.
You answered all the kids questions, settled all their anxiety and calmed their nerves with a smile. That bright, beaming smile that your mother loved and the one your husband is falling in love with. The smile everyone recognizes; the smile that pops into people’s head when your name is mentioned.
“Thank you guys,” You sit straight up on the bed. “I appreciate it. Let’s have the best week ever, okay?”
All the students smiled and nodded in unison.
“So, what’s on the agenda for today?”
Itadori smiles and throws a fist into the air, “Baseball!” He’s ecstatic, and you could make a wild guess that this was his idea. “That’s okay, right?”
You laugh, reinsuring Itadori once more. “I love baseball, and I’m kinda good at it,” You share a smile with the boy, hearing different reactions at the new information about the sport. “How about after, we come back and have a sleepover?”
That gets another rise. Everyone looks excited, partially for Megumi (he hates sleeping around Itadori) but aside from his little pout, the rest of the students agree to having a night over their teachers house.
Nanami pushes off the wall, clapping his hands together to gather the kids attention. “Okay, let’s give Shio some time to get ready. You all can help me load the bus back up.”
Following instructions, everyone except Gojo trotted out of the room, shutting the door behind them. Now it was silent and homey, resulting in your husband walking over to you with a small grin.
He crawls onto the end of the bed, sitting back on his legs in front of you. “Hi.” One word with his gentle smile and you’re grinning back.
“Hi.” You respond, reaching forward to grab his hands. You fiddled with them nervously, twirling his wedding ring around his finger. “Did you do all of this?”
“Not all. I told them your big fight was next week and they came up with all the ideas, I just found a way to make it all happen.”
You pushed your bottom lip out, climbing up from the duvet to his height, tossing your arms around his neck. This was a feeling Gojo could get used to, one he wanted to feel every moment and every second of his life. He wraps his arms around your waist and snuggles you back.
“Thank you, ‘Toru.”
He grins once more, giving your body a small squeeze. “Don’t thank me yet.”
A baseball game without your brother intervening? Sounds like a plan to you.
There were two separate teams; Your team and Gojo’s. A friendly fire between the couple who had an arranged marriage but is now starting to fall for one another — doesn’t sound scary at all.
You’d assume they’d take baseball seriously, like there was a grand prize at the end, but they weren’t. Everyone was having a good time, playing for experience and to grow, and thankfully there was no jujutsu power allowed.
The entirety of this game you’d been… laughing.
Smiling and laughing at the antics of the children you were working with. Giggling with the other teachers when Gojo grew red over the fact that his team was losing. Even moments like this where a fight needed to be broken up.
“Hold on!” Nobara shoves her hat onto the ground, pointing to the girl in front of her as she made her way over.
Nobara likes a fair game, what she didn’t like was Mai bringing a pitch machine to protect her fresh manicure. Itadori and Panda are the first to get up, walking over to catch Nobara before she gets to Mai. “Kugisaki’s snapped!” They warned. “It’s a free-for-all!”
Considering she was on your team, you followed behind the other students to calm the issue as the adult that you were.
“Alright,” You walk between both girls, facing Nobara to quickly calm her. “You’re a good batter. You can hit these even without machine, let’s just try it, okay?”
Nobara sends another threatening look to Mai before huffing and turning around to walk away. You chase after her, bending down to whisper one more thing into her ear.
“Bet she sucks anyway.” You cup your hands around your mouth so no one else hears what you said but Nobara.
And the game continued peacefully. The pitching machine was ditched after being beaten up by someone (Nobara ‘accidentally’ hit the ball into) and everything was now going fairly.
The energy overall felt like a highschool game, it was fun, quick and a bunch of dirty talk had been spit from one team to the other. Granted, it wasn’t anything harmful. Aside from another student getting swatted upside the head with a ball, the experience was great to you!
And once the sun began to set, everyone declared the game over.
All except one.
“Last bat,” Gojo walks up to you, flipping the bat so that the handle faced you. “I’ll pitch.”
You perused your lips, accepting the bat from him. You’ve never batted in front of anyone, only your mother, considering your brother would always swoop in and take the attention.
It was like you were a child again.
“Okay!” You smile, jumping up once before making your way over to the correct base.
“You got this, Shio-sensei!”
“Beat Gojo-sensei!”
You chuckled under your breath, spreading both legs and tapping the bat onto the home plate. Gojo sends you a look, asking if you’re ready, and you respond with a nod and the prettiest smile he’s ever seen.
The dim of the sky kissing your skin, the smile he’s seen all day is becoming a drug to him and as each second passed, he watched you grow more and more happy. More excited.
That’s until he raises his arm and leg, ready to pitch, and he see’s your face drop. A mix of fear, shock and confusion decorates your face and he no longer sees his happy wife, he doesn’t see a carefree woman bandaging her inner child anymore —
he sees twelve year old you.
He sees the child who’s spotlight got taken from her.
By her bastard of a brother.
Gojo drops the ball and quickly flips his infinity back on. He doesn’t turn around, he knows he’s safe, and he keeps his eyes on you and the students to assure your safety as well.
“Ryou.” Is all your husband says, crossing his arms over his chest. He won’t give him the satisfaction of a look, he’s got more important things on his mind right now.
Your brother laughs behind him, taking a small step beside him. He’s only got his eye on the prize; you. “Hey there, brother-in-law,” Ryou shoves his hands into his pockets. “Think I got her good, huh? Did’ya see her face? She went all…” He mimics your reaction, dramatically frowning and pretending to claw his eyes out.
“Who is that?” You hear one of the students whisper, and then you’re suddenly snapped back into reality.
You sniffle, wiping your sweaty palms on your jeans. You’d be stupid to turn your back, but your brother would be much more of an idiot to try to attack you when you’re not looking and your husband’s right beside him.
You turn to face the students, squatting down to catch their attention and block your brother from their view. “He’s not important, okay?” You ask, which they all nodded in return. “He’s a dangerous guy, so Gojo’s going to take you all back inside and then we can get home in time for the sleepover, right?”
You asked Rika to set up the sleepover and pick out some snacks for everyone. You even offered her to invite her daughter since she and the students were around the same age — that way if they decide to stay, she’d have a few friends.
Now, the only plan was to make it home.
Once you pushed up from your feet, you began to make way to your husband. What a fearful sight to see and an awful predicament to be in. You could be killed at any second if it was up to Ryou.
“Go.”
One word that held so much power. You stood just a few steps from your husband, you knew if you got too close that he’d be a superhero.
But this isn’t his battle to fight.
He doesn’t budge whatsoever, he looks at you like you’re playing a joke and even dazzles a smile at you, proving his point further.
He’s not going anywhere without you.
“I mean it, Satoru,” You couldn’t say too much, not without giving away too much information and endangering multiple lives. “Please… let me handle this.”
Now he’s reading you. Gojo frowns his eyebrows before beginning his path to the students. He stops besides you, making sure too keep his eyes on the kids in front of him while you kept track of your brother.
“You don’t die today.”
You couldn’t help but smile slowly, “Yes sir.”
The crucial next seconds of silence could’ve been your cause of death, but once the gate to the kids shut closed and you knew the people you loved and cared for were behind protection.
You didn’t hesitate.
You reached your arm back, looking over to the gate once more and starting a fire at it. It wasn’t too big that they couldn’t see, but it was big enough to risk a good third degree burn if they’d try to escape.
“Oo, where’d you learn that?”
Now your eyes are on your brothers, orbs battling for dominance. “Easy,” You’re stalling for the right moment, now starting to pace around your brother, keeping a large distance between you two. “But, I’m sure it comes naturally to you. You don’t even need to try, huh?”
Ryou chuckles. “You’ve gotten smarter too.” He’s starting to pick up on the pacing, and part of him is nervous. He’s never seen such a side from you, you’ve always been obedient, never one to pick a fight.
What was going on today?
Ryou meets you half way and bumps into you, ruining your pattern of a circle, grabbing your shirt to keep you still.
“What’s this?” He asks, practically snarling at you. That cocky, annoying smile never dropping from his lips. “Trying to show off for your husband and a few amateur sorcerers? You can do better.”
You’re way to nervous to physically harm this man, that could go left and you’d be injured before the big fight. Possibly killed. So you opt for your power, pushing a hand forward, manipulating the air around you to ball up and shove into his stomach, sending him tumbling.
You took a few steps back, enough space to look up and check the moon shining down at you. You’re not mentally ready to brawl with your brother. You’re not ready to die yet.
“Ryou…” You began. Instant regret.
He straightens himself back up before making his way over to you, a grin on his lips. “Shouldn’t have done that, cheeky.”
And before you know it, the same method is returned to you, except the pain is tripled and you’re being sent back flying, your back slamming against the gravel on the ground.
You could feel each piece of gravel, rock and grain of sand pierce your skin. The wind was knocked from your lungs to your head, blacking your vision for a second.
“Shio-Sensei!” You hear one of the students cry out.
Something about hearing someone call for you… strangely made you want to get back up. When your brothers around, no one roots for you. No one cares about you — or even notices you. Not when the Star of Africa is near.
But right now… at this moment… they’re rooting for you. Everyone behind that stray of fire, blocked by a gate, watching two siblings fight one another.
They’re calling for you. They’re supporting you.
“Shio-Sensei, please!”
The sound of cracking fire protecting those innocent kids — along with the calls for your name. You’re up. You’re on your feet. This adrenaline was perfect.
“That…” You began, brushing your hands on your clothes and cleaning yourself from the dust. “Was weak.”
Another boost: the face your brother makes when he’s bitched at for the first time. He realizes that no one’s on his side here… his daddy isn’t here to boost him either… he’s alone now.
He’s in your shoes.
“What did you say to me?” Ryou’s fuming, you can smell it. From the smoke coming out of his ears to the ground he’s shaking under him. Pure, firey, rage.
In return, all you can do is smile endearingly and stretch your arm out beside you, hands empty. “I said that was,” For a split second, you only had one chance to prove yourself. You ignored your consciousness and the energy around you. Within seconds, your mind flatlines and there’s a ringing in your ear for a millisecond.
For just a quick second, earth around you had disappeared.
Then reappeared.
After the quick moment of focus, you look over to your stretched out arm — and in your hand is a sword. Hah, take that Nanami. Manipulating space isn’t as hard as it sounds.
Not giving a moment for Ryou to blink, your swinging your armed hand towards your brother — tossing the sword over to catch in your other hand and switch positions before he could retaliate.
“Weak.” You finish, huffing a breath.
Your students are behind the cage jumping and clapping, watching their teacher in action — amazed at what they see. Your husband on the other hand is trembling in his shoes.
He could easily get past the fire, and his plan was to intervene when need be. He knows you can handle your own and defend yourself — but he also knows that you’re fighting off of rage right now, and your movements and thinking process is sloppy and clouded.
He doesn’t want to step in too late, but he also doesn’t want to jump to the rescue and portray you as weak.
Ryou on the other hand takes a small step back. His phone begins ringing in his basketball shorts, and he’s quick to grab the device and answer it.
And as he listens to the recipient speak, he looks down at his chest. He couldn’t ignore the oozing feeling in his chest. His skin grew hotter by the second, and the dust particles kissed his wounds as the wind blew them around.
One massive slash across his chest. The blade was so sharp that it cut past his clothes and skin, resulting in a pretty bad leak. He’s shocked with himself for missing such a lousy attack — more so, his sister was the one to do it.
No words were exchanged for the twelve second call. Ryou simply ends the call and returns his phone into his pocket. Raises his gaze from the gash to your eyes and lets out a chuckle. A bitter yet cocky laugh. As if he was still laughing at you.
“You know,” Your brother looks up to the sky, the waning gibbous shining above. “I think we’ll plan your funeral a little more organized than mom’s.”
Weak. It doesn’t really affect you, Ryou’s never been ‘momma’s boy’. More of a spoiled brat. The anger he wanted out of you wasn’t granted, it made you yawn. You just insulted your brother, twice, and gave him a remarkable wound on his chest… and he’s not fighting back.
He’s stalling.
“Not on your game today?” You’re focusing your energy into your arm, manipulating the air around you to forcefully stick your sword onto the ground. “It’s mediocre, everything you’re saying. How’s that gash, though?”
“I can barely feel it.” Ryou’s quick to respond, “Just thought you’d want to know. You’d have the best funeral out of the three, I’m sure of it.”
Three? You try your hardest not to visibly be confused, but your brother already see’s you doing the math in your head. One, your mother. Metaphorically, two would be you.
There wouldn’t be a third.
Maybe your brothers sick. He’s been talking out of the ass for the past few minuets and keeping up with him is slightly throwing you off your game. He’s absolutely stalling.
“Three? Can you even co—” Oh. “Count…” All of the green of envy and revenge on your face had melted, returning you back to your normal state. Afraid and scared.
“G—…” You’re stumbling backwards, still keeping an eye on your brother. “Gojo!!”
As soon as he saw your state change, he was itching to get across the gate. All he needed to hear was your voice. Your plea. In seconds he’s by your side, turning you to face him. You’re not afraid of Ryou sneaking up, you’re not afraid of anyone’s safety with your husband being here.
Except Rika.
“I need… we need to go home, now.” Your panicking, your hands have began trembling and the nerves in your body are shot.
Gojo’s looking at you, trying to read whatever you’re trying to get at, but he’s just as confused as you were earlier. Without even moving his head, your husband can just feel the devious smile on Ryou’s face. This is the reaction he wanted out of you, it’s what he wanted to see with his own eyes — live!
“What’s going on?” Gojo asks.
“…Rika.”
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Too much
Everyone has their breaking point, right?
That point at which they have absolutely had it. When they finally had to end the relationship or quit the job. Because they can’t take it anymore and they are done.
We’ve all been there.
We’ve all been the one to make the break. You and I have gotten to that point. Where we had to leave for our own mental wellbeing, our physical health, or both.
But that’s not the only reason why you and I know about that breaking point, is it?
We hate to admit it, but there are times when you and I have been on the other side of that breaking point.
Where we have been the one that someone had to make the break with.
Because we kept screwing things up. Or we were stuck in unhealthy patterns. Or we couldn’t get over ourselves. Or we didn’t make time for them. Or any of a million other ways it becomes too much.
Because everyone has their breaking point.
We’re so used to finding that breaking point with other people – and even with ourselves – that we just assume God works the same way.
And that we’re going to screw things up. Or fall back into our unhealthy patterns. Or get full of ourselves. Or make time for everything but God. Or whatever it is.
One time too many. And we’re going to find out that God has a breaking point too.
Which is exactly what we don’t see in today’s Gospel – with the woman caught in adultery.
Jesus doesn’t give her one last chance. Or tell her that it’s too late.
Instead, Jesus forgives her.
And lets her know that her life doesn’t have to be this way.
That even if she doesn’t see it, she is more than her flaws, her faults, her failings.
“Neither do I condemn you. Go and sin no more.”
Tradition says that St. Cyril of Jerusalem (today’s saint) had a vision of Jesus meeting her again after the Resurrection. After she had fallen back into her old ways.
When they met, she was so ashamed that she couldn’t even meet His eyes. Jesus gently lifted up her head and softly said to her again,
“Neither do I condemn you. Go and sin no more.”
Today’s Readings
#Too Much#Mercy#God's Mercy#Go and Sin No More#God's Forgiveness#St. Cyril#God#Jesus#Catholic#Christian#Church#Catholicism#Moments Before Mass
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