#(is that the same course? or two different ones? i have no idea)
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Sweet Temptations.
logan howlett x fem!reader
cw: fingering, oral (f receiving), innocence kink, inexperienced reader, darkish!logan
a/n: hi! sorry i've been gone so long! i have plenty of stuff in the works but for now here's this. i'm working on making a mini-series of dark!logan x inexperienced!reader so i hope everyone enjoys! <3
to think, logan almost went out to the bar tonight. almost left to find a one night stand or come home and fuck his hand. tonight could've had so many different outcomes but luckily, he ended up with the best one.
there's a light knock on his bedroom door. he knew it had to have been you since everyone was on a field trip a couple hours away for the night. logan obviously wasn't interested in going and you were busy working on an experiment in the laboratory.
in all reality, logan just wanted an excuse to stay here alone with you overnight. ever since he joined the x-men and met you down in the lab in that cute white coat and pretty smile, he's had a crush on you.
"hi, logan." you smile softly when he opens his door.
"hey, dollface. you need something?" he asks, leaning against his door frame and eyeing that short little nightgown of yours.
"can we talk?"
"sure."
the two of you walk into logan's room and sit on the end of his bed. you sit up on your knees, facing him. he can tell that something is on your mind but you're unsure on if you should confide in him or not.
"is everything alright?" he asks, growing concerned.
you nod, chewing on your bottom lip.
"whatcha wanna talk about then, sweets?"
logan's large hand rubs your knee softly, almost coaxing the words out of you.
"would you do me a big favor?" you ask, avoiding his hazel gaze.
"of course."
there's slight hesitation. you were afraid of logan's reaction to your request. after a deep breath, you remind yourself that it's just logan. the same logan who trains with you every morning, the same logan who plays with your hair when he's board, the same logan who praises you for all your hard work in the laboratory. there was nothing to be afraid of.
"c-can you take my virginity?"
the question almost killed logan. he though he had died and gone to heaven. you finally look at him with a twinkle in your eyes and he feels the need to adjust the tent growing in his pants.
"where'd this idea come from, sweetheart?"
"well, i was seeing a guy a while ago who acted really weird when i told him i was still a virgin then when i told storm and jean, they told me that if i'm ready to do it, than it should be with someone i trust." you explain so innocently to him. "i just figured since you've always been so gentle with me and i trust you so, i was kinda hoping you wouldn't mind."
never in his wildest dreams could logan have imagined this happening. you sitting pretty on his bed, practically begging him to take your virginity. god, logan couldn't even remember the last time he was with a virgin. must've been decades ago.
"that's real sweet, dollface. 'f course i'll do it." he says, watching your smile grow with excitement. "first i need to know what you've already done."
"i've kissed while sitting in someone's lap, given a hickey twice... maybe three times? some nights i'll rub myself against one of my pillows."
even though he knew the answer, he had to ask,"ever fingered yourself?"
"no." you shake your head, almost making logan moan at just the thought of being the first person to do that to you.
"want to try it?"
"s-sure but i thought we were gonnaâ"
"we will." logan assures. "need to get you loosened up first if you want me to fit inside of you."
a small gasp exists your lips, making him chuckle. logan leans, testing the waters to see how you kiss. he's a bit shocked by how you pull him closer to deepen it. you moan into his mouth while your hands roam his hair. he sits you in his lap and lets you grind yourself on top of him, showing him what you know.
"let's see if you're nice and wet for me." logan hums, lifting up your nightgown and feeling the wet spot over your underwear. "very good, dollface."
without thinking, you let out a tiny moan next to his ear because of his praise. he can't help but pull your head from its hiding spot in his neck to look at you.
"you like when i tell you how good you're being for me?" he ask, watching your face contort as your hips keep moving. one of his hands rests on your waist, stopping you from moving. "c'mon, you can tell me."
"mhm..." you nod. "love when you praise me."
suddenly, your back is pressed flat against his sheets as he kisses all down your body. leaving little marks here and there until he reaches the waist band of your pretty pink underwear.
"did you wear these just for me, princess?" he asks, placing a kiss right over the cotton covering your button.
"y-you said i looked p-pretty in pink."
as the words stumble out of your mouth, logan feels a warmth spread across his heart. a couple months ago, you were wearing a new pink dress and as logan passed you by, he mentioned how pretty you looked in the color. it meant a lot to you.
"you still do." he says. "can i take these off of you, baby?"
you nod, lifting your hips a little to help him. logan tosses the pink cotton somewhere behind him. lifting up the nightgown to your tummy, eyes glued to the spot in between your legs.
"didn't think you could get any prettier." logan mumbles to himself.
his intense gaze made you feel a bit vulnerable, trying to close your legs but his large hands stop you.
"don't hide from me, princess." he says, capturing your attention. " 'm gonna make you feel good."
logan carefully drags his thumb through your slit, collecting the arousal and circling it around your button. the feather like touch sends your head back and whimpers to fall from your lips. gently, logan pushes his middle finger past your velvet walls, groaning once you clench around him.
"atta girl, princess." he smirks watching you swallow up his finger. "takin' it so good."
logan watches in awe as your head fall back and the arch in your back. slowly he inches his face closer and licks a thick stripe up your fold before sucking softly on your button. you feel logan muffle 'fuck' against you, only resulting in more arousal to spill out of you.
"o-oh, logan." you moan, hips chasing his tongue feverishly.
since this was your first time, logan went easy on you, not making you work for your orgasm. he feels your cunt clench down on his one finger as it hits deep inside of you until you are seeing stars. with logan's other free hand, he paws at your tit and rolls it in his palm.
"need m-more!" you whimper with glossy eyes and lips. "p-please, lo."
in an attempt to give you what you want, logan struggles to hit another finger inside of you. he wasn't sure what he did to deserve this type of heaven but god, was he thankful for it.
"i can't, sweetheart." he groans, kissing your hip bone as he speeds up the finger inside of you. "you're too tight for two of my fingers. there's no way i'll be able to fit inside of you tonight."
before you could whine in protest, this indescribable wave of euphoria washes over you. smooth silky legs wrap tightly around logan's head. thighs covers his ears, blocking out the sweet sounds you were making. logan goes back to sloppily making out with your cunt until you weakly pull him off and drag him up to your lips, tasting your own release on his tongue.
"thanks, lo." you smile in a daze at him.
"anytime." he says. "i think you'll need another lesson soon though if you want to take all of me. do you want that, princess?"
he could feel your heart rate increase eagerly. you blush intensely and avoid his gaze as you nod.
"alright." he chuckles darkly. "but first, you gotta show me how you get off on your pillow."
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From the moment I was coherent, I knew my family was different. Off, somehow, not normal. It was something in the way my parents looked at me when they thought I was distracted, the way they treated me like I didn't belong. Like I was an inconvenience.
My brother and sisters? So, so spoiled. Between mom's modeling and dad's business stuff, there was MONEY, and my siblings had it lavished on them. Toys, designer clothes - whatever they wanted. They were hugged, cosseted, taken on trips, given actual attention! They had a fabulous childhood.
Not like mine.
There was this undercurrent of resentment towards me that I never understood. I never had birthday parties, the folks were always "too busy", tossing some money my way so I could get a present. It never mattered what my grades were, I handed over the report cards to get signed and that was it. Unlike my siblings - they got pizza parties for not failing classes! but my damn near perfect marks were shrugged off. It was a lonely, confusing life, especially for a little kid.
My solace was in books. (Yep, I nerd.) If it was in print, I'd read it. That empty feeling inside me was soothed when I filled myself with words, stories, information, music. Yes, I taught myself how to read music, too, and how to build and play instruments. The early ones were crap, but I got better at it.
Anyways. I read everything, which led me to the 'occult/spiritual' section of the library and book stores. Right next to the fairy tales and legends, of course, so I read those too because why the heck not? It was ... it was educational. Upsetting. I wandered around the house and saw all the cold iron and silver on every window, every door. The weird herbs growing at every entrance. Keep in mind that I was TEN. Ten years old, trying to understand what was going on with my life, and suddenly figuring out that my parents were keeping something out. Of course, the next thing I did was check my clothes and, surprise surprise, everything had odd things sewn into the hems. Not only was something kept out, I was warded against being Taken.
So, I did what any angsty pre-adolescent would do, and plotted. Come hell or high water, I was going to find out what was going on. For the first time in my life, being ignored worked in my favor. Using the books and stories as a guide, I bought things, ingredients and materials, and worked quietly. Waiting for the night of the full moon.
I was as thorough as only an angry child could be. Opened doors, front and back. Walked around the house widdershins, sweeping away the protective ring of salt and runes. Did I mention I was naked? Yeah, I took a bath and washed myself with a bar of Ivory soap, getting rid of even the smallest trace of binding or charm. Since I didn't trust any of my clothes, or any in the house really, it made sense for me to go naked. To be sure.
The results were impressive. Also terrifying. Two powerful, ancient beings stormed into the house and dragged my parents out of bed, starting a three-way screaming match about contracts, oaths, stuff I didn't understand.
That was when I learned why I was conceived. It hurt, honestly. Learning that I was just a bargaining chip, chattel to be bartered or sold, broke my heart. They kept me warded to avoid issues, they said. They didn't know which being had the first claim on me, and neither one wanted to give up the wealth and beauty they bought with my life.
I was ten years old, and heartbroken, and oh so angry, and I interrupted with a suggestion. The witch and the faerie exchanged a look, before turning to my parents with the same smile on both their faces, one with extra teeth and mischief.
To this day, I have no idea what happened to them. I've lived with my dads for ten years now. Not full time anymore, university is a beeyotch and I live off campus, but every break, I go home.
My family is still kinda off, and different, but my dads love me. They're proud of me, they encourage me to be awesome, and we celebrate birthdays and holidays together. They keep saying that they have to make up for lost time, but knowing they were trying to find me, knowing they never gave up hope - well. They wanted a child to love, and i needed parents to love me. It all worked out in the end.
Your mother sold her firstborn to a witch in exchange for beauty and your father sold his firstborn to a fairy for wealth. Today you are born.
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âFIDELITYâ |part8
MASTERLIST -`âŽÂ´- Rafe Cameron x Kook!Reader x JJ Maybank
Summary: Kook!Readerâs world is upended by betrayal, and her only way forward might lie with the most unlikely personâJJ Maybank. But as they build a new life together, old flames and past mistakes refuse to stay buried.
Warnings: slut shaming(?)
previous - next
Could you really call yourself an adult now?
I mean, honestly, is there some magical age that makes you a certified grown-up?
If itâs all about age, then nopeâyou werenât an adult. Maybe a âyoung adultâ at best, but even then, the life you were living? Letâs just say it was⌠a bit different.
When everything started happening so quickly, keeping up felt impossible. And letâs face it, that was normal. If you managed to juggle everything with calm composure, youâd probably qualify as Wonder Woman. Life came with its ups and downs, but throw pregnancy symptoms into the mix, and things got extra tricky.
You liked to share what you wanted with others. Talking about your plans openly was just how you were. It wasnât about bragging; you just enjoyed sharing your happiness. But every single timeâwithout failâwhatever you talked about? It never happened.
That Venice trip youâd been set on for the summer? Canceled.
The dream university? Rejected. That car you were this close to buying? Nope, didnât happen.
It was like clockwork. Every time.
And the thing was, you never learned. Not really. Youâd repeat the same mistake again and again. Lifeâs law, right? Someday youâd figure it out⌠though that day clearly wasnât anytime soon.
Pregnancy, though, wasnât exactly something you could go shouting about to everyone. That was off the table. But moving?
If you werenât pregnant, thereâs no way youâd have kept quiet. Youâd have made sure the entire island knew. And naturally, that wouldâve meant it wouldnât happen.
This time, though, you zipped it. The only person who knew was JJâand, well, he didnât really count. Or, okay, maybe he did. Of course, he was important, but not the kind of person to stand in your way. On the contrary, he had your back. He even offered to help you with the whole moving process.
Things happened so fast, you could hardly believe it.
Your dad came home from his work trip, you visited the mainland, met with a realtor friend of his, checked out potential homesâit was like someone had hit the fast-forward button.
You couldnât decide on anything. You were even okay with a cute little apartment. The list of occupants was simple: you and your daughter. You didnât need much more.
Your mom, however, had her opinions. She didnât want a mansion either, but she was firm about the house having enough rooms. One for you, one for your daughter, and a guest roomâbecause naturally, grandma duties. And a yard, because she wanted to watch her grandchild play outside.
So apartments were out. Houses it was. After seeing what felt like a million empty ones, you were ready to scream.
But finally, you found it. The perfect house. The yard alone sold it. You could already picture the memories youâd make there with your daughter. Maybe a swing or a hammock⌠some comfy furniture on the porch.
You never imagined youâd get so close to your dream so quickly.
It had the three rooms your mom insisted on, was two stories, and honestly, it was beautiful. You loved it. But the idea of living there alone was terrifying.
Still, the deal was sealed.
It didnât take longâtwo weeks, tops. When your mom insisted on hiring an interior designer, you didnât argue much. Secretly, you liked the idea. And once your belongings were packed, it was all done.
All that was left was you.
There werenât many people to say goodbye to on the island, which was, honestly, fine. Who were you supposed to bid farewell to? Rafe? His family, who didnât even know you were pregnant? Your friends, whoâd probably broadcast the news to the world? No thanks.
Except for JJ.
Youâd have been a total ass not to acknowledge his help. Even if his support wasnât entirely physical, his presence had been a huge emotional lift.
So saying goodbye wasnât hard.
Ignoring the support heâd given you wouldâve been dumb. When you decided to give him a nice surfboard as a thank-you gift, you didnât overthink it. You just thought about who JJ wasâsomeone who loved the ocean and surfing. Beyond that? You didnât know much. So you kept it simple. Spoiler alert: he liked it.
You hesitated, thinking a gift might make things unnecessarily sentimental, but he deserved it. Nobody else in his position wouldâve treated you as kindly. Even Kooks barely treated each other well. Expecting a Pogue to go out of their way for you? Yeah, no.
But JJ had.
You werenât super close, but during one of your conversations, heâd mentioned how much he liked the rare nights when his shift ended early. He worked at a pub. In your head, youâd given him two weeks before he got firedâor kicked out after starting a fight. You were that sure of it.
A week ago, knowing the end of his evening shift, you parked near the pub, sitting on your car hood to wait for him. The plan? Give him the surfboard. Maybe even give him a ride home if he needed one.
Fifteen minutes passed. He hadnât come out.
You started questioning everythingâmaybe youâd gotten the wrong day? Or maybe youâd messed up the time?
Waiting around for nothing felt miserable. You shouldâve paid better attention when heâd been talking about his schedule.
Not that the gift had been planned or anything. The idea had hit you on a whim. You just wanted to do something before you left. After all, there werenât many people to say goodbye to. And texting JJ a quick see ya felt way too impersonal.
âWhat are you doing here?â
You snapped out of your thoughts, your eyes shooting up from your phone. JJ stood a few steps away, mid-turn before he stopped and faced you fully. His eyes scanned the car before landing on you.
Quickly, you shoved your phone into your pocket. âMaking sure you didnât pick another fight.â Sliding off the hood, you smirked.
JJ rolled his eyes, flashing you a sarcastic smile. âHa-ha. How funny.â
Unlike him, your grin was genuine. Why should he have all the fun pissing people off? It was your turn.
Unlike him, your lips curled into a genuine smile. Was it always going to be him getting under your skin for his own amusement? No, this time, it was your turn.
You heard him say your name, his tone serious. âNo, really. What are you doing here?â
Keeping surprises wasnât exactly your specialty, but you couldnât resist messing with him a little. After all, this was the first time in days youâd left the houseâand only in your baggiest clothes. Might as well enjoy it.
âJust hanging out.â
He frowned, his eyes scanning the area before gesturing around. âHere? Outside the pub?â
The confusion on his face was nearly comicalâborderline annoyed, maybe?
You mirrored his glance at the surroundings, raising your eyebrows. It wasnât much to look at. Just⌠a place. âWhatâs wrong with here?â
JJ let out a frustrated sigh, and for a moment, you couldnât believe youâd actually managed to annoy him. He genuinely looked upset. âAre you serious right now? Youââ He stopped himself, clenching his jaw as he stepped closer. Lowering his voice, he added, âYou canât drink. Youâre not even supposed to be hanging around.â
So, he thought youâd come here to drink? Thatâs why he was so worked up?
It was kind of⌠cute. But poking the bear was way more fun.
You let out a dramatic hum as you crossed your arms. âNot allowed? Says who?â You tried not to laugh at the look he shot you, a mix of exasperation and disbelief, like youâd lost your mind.
âMe. Youâre not drinking. Not here, not anywhere. Have you lost it?â
Your lips pulled into a grin, and despite his attempt to scold you, his irritation only made it funnier. Especially since you hadnât even done what he was accusing you of.
The second JJ caught onto what you were doing, his annoyed expression melted away. As your laughter echoed, he pinched the bridge of his nose, clearly unimpressed. âYeah, yeah. Hilarious. Now, can you just tell me what youâre actually doing here?â
You clutched your stomach, your laughter dying down into a lingering smile. Sure, he wasnât amused, but you were, and thatâs all that mattered.
âIâve got something for you.â
JJâs eyebrows shot up. He straightened, intrigued. âYeah?â
You stepped away from the carâs front, glancing back to see him still rooted in place. You gave him a quick head nod to follow. With a sigh, he finally moved. âIf this is a gun for self-defense, just so you know, Iâm not really clear on the rules here,â he joked with a wink.
You snorted, shaking your head. âPlease. If I gave you a gun, youâd be arrested in, like, two seconds.â
He laughed, but you could tell he was curious now. Opening the back door, you reached inside. âItâs a thank-you gift. Kind of.âThe surprise on his face was priceless. He clearly wasnât expecting this. Honestly, neither were you until the idea struck.
JJ tilted his head, his expression skeptical. âThank you? For what? For telling you not to pick fights?â
You rolled your eyes. He couldnât be serious. âNo, JJ. For helping me out.â
He smiled, but it was that classic, goofy grin of his. Any trace of his earlier irritation had completely vanished. He didnât even glance into the car. âOh, I get it. Like a âwithout JJ, my life wouldâve fallen apartâ kind of thank you? Go on, feed my ego. I live for this.â
For a split second, you considered slamming the door and driving off. Instead, you laughed. Sure, there was some truth to what he said, but no way were you letting him win.
Taking a deep breath, you opened the door wider and stepped back. âNope. Itâs just a small gesture. Donât read too much into it.â
JJ walked over and held the door open, his eyes going wide when he spotted the surfboard wedged into the backseat. His fingers ran over the smooth edges and the blue-and-white design. âYou got this for me?â he asked, his voice softer now as he inspected it.
You couldnât suppress your grin. âYeah. I mean, I know itâs kind of random, but I figured you could use your own board for a change. For everything youâve doneââ You hesitated, trying to find the right words. âIt meant a lot.â
JJâs smile was different this time. It wasnât cocky or teasing. It was genuine. âIf I donât take this, I feel like youâd be really annoying about it,â he muttered, pulling the board from the car.
âAbsolutely. You wouldnât want to hear me talk about how I poured my heart into its design,â you teased.
He froze, eyes narrowing. âWaitâyou designed it?â
You smirked, holding his gaze. âNo. But itâs nice that you believed it for a second.â
JJ laughed, shaking his head as he leaned the board against the car. For once, he wasnât mocking or making jokes. Instead, he looked at you with something softer, something you couldnât quite place. âThis is⌠perfect. You didnât have to do this.â
âI know. I just wanted to.â
He hesitated, glancing at the board before meeting your eyes again. âI was just trying to help. I didnât think it was that big of a deal.â
And that was it, wasnât it? Thatâs how it felt. Deep down, youâd even envied the way he was with his friends. He didnât know you. In fact, he hated your group. But if he treated you like thisâwho knew how he treated his friends?
You werenât used to people doing things for you without expecting something in return. Sure, you had a hunch JJ liked money. Not just youâeveryone on the island knew that. But still, the way he talked to you, made time for you⌠it mattered. It broke the prejudice you had against him.
It wasnât anything grand. He didnât buy you houses or cars. He didnât shower you with jewelry. But he talked to you like no one else did. He made you feelâlike you were someone. Like someone whose decisions shouldnât be dictated by anyone elseâs words.
And that? That was worth more than jewelry. More than anything money could buy. It was something most peopleâRafe includedâdidnât have.
From the moment he heard, he didnât tell anyone. What friend would do that? Ruthie? Sophie? Who?
JJ did.
And he wasnât even your friend.
Thatâs why it mattered. He was just being himself, and you needed that.
âIt felt like that.â JJ was holding the surfboard, his eyes catching yours. A strange silence fell between you. Neither of you had expected such a gestureânot just surfing, but the support heâd given you.
You hadnât expected his support; that was his gesture to you. And he hadnât expected a surfboard from you; that was your gesture to him.
JJ lifted the board to examine it, the usual smirk still on his face. He was clearly trying to ease the tension hanging between you. âSo, I have my own board now, huh? I donât have to give this one back, do I? Because when it comes to stuff like that, youâre pretty stubborn.â
âNo, itâs yours,â you said, smiling. You were grateful for his teasingâit cut through the awkwardness. You couldâve stayed silent for hours. âBut if I catch you getting into another fight, Iâll beat you with that board.â
JJ laughed, shaking his head. His gaze flicked between the board and you. He was ridiculously excited about the surfboard but trying hard not to show it. âFair deal. But just so weâre clear, every cool move I pull off with this board? Iâm crediting you. âThanks to Princess for this wave,â that kind of thing. Youâre my sponsor now.â
You rolled your eyes, but you couldnât deny his antics made you laugh. He was fun to be around. You were glad the whole âstatusâ nonsense between you two seemed to be fading. It wasnât just youâhe had his own assumptions about you too. But it felt like youâd both moved past that. âOkay. Sponsorshipâs over. Go find your wave.â
JJ carefully propped the board against the wall, his expression softening. âJokes aside, thanks. I mean it. This means a lot. Just donât tell anyone I said thatâgotta protect my image.â He smiled, dimples showing as he ran a hand through his hair.
You smiled back, nodding quickly. âDonât worry, your secretâs safe.â
As you both grinned, JJâs eyes flicked from you to the surfboard. Following his gaze, your eyes drifted to his hands, gently tracing the board like it was fragile.
âIâm leaving the island tomorrow.â The words tumbled out, and you saw his hands freeze. His gaze landed on you, but you kept your focus on the board, pretending to admire its design. It really was a beautiful surfboard. âSoâI wanted to say thank you.â
His blue eyes pierced through you as if that was even possible. JJ didnât say anything to make the moment heavier, just nodded. For several seconds, neither of you spoke. Realizing the air had gotten heavier, you shifted your tone to something more casual. âI could drive you home if you want.â
You werenât the kind of person to offer, but making him carry a surfboard all the way home felt cruel.
JJ opened his mouth to respond, but a car horn blared from down the street. Both of you turned toward the sound. Outside the car, John B and Kiara were leaning against it, with Pope, Cleo, and Sarah visible through the windows. Pope waved at JJ from where he hung halfway out of the window.
When Sarahâs eyes met yours, you instinctively tugged at your shirt. There wasnât anything visible, but stillâyou felt uneasy. âWow,â you said, feigning amusement. âYour entourage is here.â
JJ hesitated, looking momentarily torn. Finally, he sighed, a guilty smile creeping onto his face. His gaze dropped to your hand still fidgeting with your shirt. For a split second, it seemed like he wanted to grab your hand, to stop you.
âNothingâs showing,â he said, his eyes lingering on your waist. You knew that, but the idea of anyone finding out still terrified you. Especially someone from Rafeâs family. He didnât want them to know, and neither did you. Thatâs why you felt the need to be extra cautious around Sarah and Wheezie.
âI know. Itâs justââ You stopped, shutting your eyes briefly before opening them again. It was paranoia, but understandable. âRelax. No one knows, I swear.â His hand almost reached out to your arm, but he stopped, remembering his friends were watching from the car.
âGo,â you said, shrugging. You composed yourself. âLooks like youâve got a ride after all.â You smiled.
JJ paused for a beat, then flashed a crooked smile. He hated the awkwardness lingering between you. âIf this board isnât as good as you said, youâre getting an earful. Iâll call you.â He walked backward, teasing. You couldnât help but chuckle at his words.
As you walked toward your front door, you noticed his movements slow. He stopped, turned, and looked back at you. It was like heâd remembered something heâd forgotten to do. Placing the surfboard down gently, his eyes briefly darted away from yours.
Then he walked up to you and stopped right in front of you. After a brief, silent pause, you felt his arms wrap around you. Was he⌠hugging you? Seriously? The gesture caught both of you off guard. Youâd never imagined this kind of closeness. But then again, you hadnât imagined buying him a surfboard either. So, it didnât feel wrong. If buying him a gift made you feel this close, then it wasnât strange that heâd feel close enough to hug you.
You returned the gesture, wrapping your arms around him. His grip was firm, and the scent of salt and ocean filled your senses. How did he always smell so much like the sea?
The hug was short, but both of you felt the strangeness of it. Once againâyou felt like youâd crossed a line. Broken some unspoken rule.
JJ shrugged as he pulled back. âYeah, thatâs it. See you, uh⌠whatever.â
You took a deep breath, watching him stand there. You hated goodbyes. You were going to miss this island, and nowâ
âYeah⌠goodbye.â You pushed your hair behind your shoulders, trying to steady your voice. You didnât understand why you felt like you were losing a friend. Like you were going to⌠miss him?
Stop. Donât even think about it.
JJ nodded, picking up the surfboard as he walked toward the car. You watched him for a moment before turning to the front door and stepping into your car. Through the windshield, you caught a glimpse of Kiara muttering something to Sarah. Whatever she was saying, you couldnât hear.
When JJ got into the car, he paused, lowering his head for a brief moment before looking outside again.
He mouthed something to the group. Not to you, but to the friends in the car. âJust shut up.â
When he gave you a quick nod, you returned it before starting your car. Watching them drive off, you felt a strange mix of relief and melancholy. Youâd thanked JJ, and that was all you wanted. It was done.
Except for the quiet ache of losing a friend.
Youâd left only a few clothes back at the house on the island. The furniture and everything else stayed in your room. Your parents insisted the room remain untouchedâthey wanted you to know there was still a home for you there. They even promised not to change a thing.
The first few months were bound to be hard; you knew that. Living alone was going to take some getting used to. But you hoped itâd all be worth it when you finally held your baby.
Now, you were sitting on the couch in your new place, sipping a green smoothie. Youâd have given anything for a coffee, but pregnancy meant sacrifices. A little caffeine might not hurt, but you didnât want to risk it. The smoothie was healthy, though it tasted awful.
It had only been six days since the move. Youâd allowed yourself time to explore the area, taking walks around the quiet streets. Your parents had offered to stay with you for a few days, but you politely declined. You wanted to settle in on your own. Leaning on their warmth and presence only to have it ripped away later would have made the loneliness worse. You couldnât let that happen.
Morning sickness had eased enough for a few walks, so youâd wandered the calm streets near your house. Quiet, orderly, nothing like Outer Banks. You couldnât help but compare the two. Everything here was different. The people, the lifestyleâit all felt so structured and tame. But a part of you missed the chaos of the island. The freedom. The absurdity of going to the store in a bikini without anyone batting an eye. That tight-knit community where everyone knew each otherâs names.
Youâd visited the local park a few times. It was rarely crowded, and you hadnât met anyone yet. By the time you arrived, most of the adults and kids were just beginning to trickle in.
So, here you were: your own place. Did that make you an adult?
How did adults even make friends? Scratch thatâhow did anyone past a certain age make friends? As a kid, it was easy. Just ask someone to play with you, and that was it. Middle school? Same thing.
But now? You didnât know a soul here. What were you supposed to do? Walk up to someone and introduce yourself?
Terrifying thought.
Still, maybe worth trying, right?
-
Socializing wasnât supposed to feel like this.
Your eyes scanned the parkâs scenery. The leaves rustled gently in the breeze, and birds chirped in the branches above. A group of kids played in a sandbox, their laughter mingling with the faint sounds of distant traffic.
You clasped your hands over your stomach, exhaling deeply. âMaybe this is good for me,â you thought.
But the whole idea still felt horrifying. Sitting at home wouldâve been worse, though. At least you were out, breathing fresh air.
Introducing yourself to someone, though? Out of the question. No anxiety attacks, but your chest tightened just thinking about it. No, youâd just sit and enjoy the park for a bit. That would be enough.
Your gaze dropped to the book in your lap: Healthy Nutrition and Development During Pregnancy. You fiddled with the corner of its cover. Would someone else find this funny? Carrying a guidebook instead of a novel wasnât something even you wouldâve expected a few months ago. But here you were, on the verge of a whole new chapter. Screw what anyone thoughtâyou were preparing for your future.
Suddenly, the bench shifted slightly as someone sat down beside you. The movement snapped you out of your thoughts. You glanced up to find a middle-aged woman with an energetic demeanor. Her dyed-blond hair revealed a hint of gray at the roots, and a steaming coffee cup rested in her hands.
âUgh, I hope I can finish this before it goes cold,â she muttered to herself before calling out to the playground. âTati! No running, sweetheart!â
She waved toward the child before turning back to you with a wide smile.
âLovely day, isnât it?â she chirped.
You gave her a polite smile, nodding. âIt is,â you replied, subtly shifting your book closer to your lap. Her eyes flicked to the book in your hands, narrowing slightly as if trying to make out the title. âIs that a⌠guidebook?â she finally asked.
You tilted your head slightly. âYes,â you said simply, hoping thatâd be enough to end the conversation.
âA pregnancy guide?â she pressed, her curiosity accompanied by a cheerful smile that didnât quite reach her eyes. âHow sweet! Helping out a sister or expecting a niece?âOh, where are my manners? Iâm Viola.â
Her question caught you off guard. You hesitated briefly before giving your name. âUh, no. Itâs for me,â you said with a small smile.
Her expression shifted instantly. Her eyes widened, her grin turning stiff and awkward. âFor you? OhâŚâ
You nodded, feeling heat creep up your cheeks. She had seemed friendly at first, but the subtle judgment on her face now was impossible to ignore.
âHow far along?â she asked, as if the question was perfectly natural.
âSixteen weeks,â you mumbled, pretending to smooth the bookâs pages. The weight of her gaze made your skin crawl.
âAh, so young,â she murmured, taking a long sip from her coffee. When she lowered the cup, her eyes lingered on you, as though dissecting every detail. âHow old are you, if you donât mind me asking?â
âTwenty,â you replied, keeping your tone neutral but feeling the words land heavier than you intended. You watched her eyebrows knit together as she took a sharp breath.
âTwenty? You look barely old enough to drive!â she exclaimed, clearly not trying to be subtle. Then, almost conspiratorially, âBut⌠you must be married, right?â
Your hands instinctively moved to rest on your stomach, but you hesitated to respond. The silence must have been answer enough because her eyes flicked from your belly back to your face.
âOh,â she said knowingly, her smile tightening further. âSo⌠is the father still in the picture?â
What was this, an interrogation?
You swallowed the lump forming in your throat. Was it the tone of her voice? Or the audacity of her questions? Whatever it was, it stung. âThatâs not something I need to discuss with you,â you said firmly, fighting to keep the frustration out of your voice.
Viola shrugged, but her scrutinizing look didnât waver. âFair enough. But raising a baby at your age, and without⌠well, you know. Itâs going to be tough. Donât you think this was a bit⌠impulsive?â
Her words hit like a cold wind. You tightened your grip on your stomach and tilted your head slightly. âThatâs none of your business,â you said, your voice harder now.
Viola didnât back down. âYes, maybe youâre right. But people talk, sweetheart. And usually, they judge the ones they think made the wrong decisionsâŚâ She paused, pursing her lips. âWell, they judge.â
That was all you needed to hear. You tucked your book under your arm like you were putting it in a bag, got up, and said, âI think itâs time for me to leave,â your tone colder than even you expected.
Viola raised a hand as if trying to smooth things over. âOh, I didnât mean to offend,â she said, but the look in her eyes betrayed the opposite. âIâm just saying this for your own good.â
You could shove your âthoughtsâ up your ass.
Turning on your heel, you walked toward the parkâs exit. The sound of her coffee cup being placed on the bench and her murmuring words echoed behind you. A fresh start sounded nice, you thought. But a new beginning wasnât a guarantee of escaping old judgments.
There was no way you were going out to socialize again anytime soon. You hated that woman. With every fiber of your being. The way she judged you with that smug little brain of hersâit made your blood boil. You had no memory of how you even made it back home.
You made yourself some hot cocoa, hoping it would calm your nerves. Honestly, lying flat in the grass wouldnât have been enough to shake off the anger at this point.
Even though you tried to distract yourselfâknowing full well that stress wasnât good for the babyâit wasnât working. The incident replayed in your mind on a loop. You were certain youâd shiver every time you walked past that park again.
Who did she think she was, anyway? How could someone pass judgment on a stranger like that? The sheer audacityâit was baffling.
The sound of your phone notification pulled you out of your spiraling thoughts. Glancing over, you reached for the phone resting on the couch.
You waited for a reply, but when nothing came, you set the phone down again. At least one of you was having a good day. Even though you felt like you were on the verge of exploding, you took a deep breath, trying to steady yourself.
The sudden ring of your phone startled you. You looked over, eyes narrowing slightly in surprise. JJ Maybank was calling you. Right now.
Pressing the phone to your ear, you grabbed the half-full cocoa mug from the table with your other hand. You werenât going to drink it anymore. You were too annoyed to even think about washing it, but you figured you could at least move it somewhere out of sight. JJâs voice came through the speaker, and despite everything, a small smile crept onto your face. For all his antics, he was a decent guy.
Heading toward the kitchen, you heard the cheerfulness in his voice as he began, âUsed it this morning.â He was talking about the surfboard, excitement practically dripping from his words.
Frowning slightly, you placed the mug on the counter. This morning? Shouldnât he have been at work? âThis morning? Werenât you supposed to be at work?â
There was a brief pause before JJ let out a muffled laugh. âGot fired,â he said casually, like it was the most normal thing in the world. Honestly, with him, it kind of was. You couldnât help but laugh a little.
You werenât surprisedâof course, you werenât. With the phone still pressed to your ear, you wandered over to the window and glanced outside. âFigured,â you said, your voice laced with playful sarcasm.
JJ didnât miss a beat, his tone now teasingly accusatory. âWait a second. Did you bet on me?â
Smiling, you shook your head even though he couldnât see it, your attention momentarily caught by a cat wandering down the street. JJ cleared his throat, bringing you back. âNo, but I wish I had,â you said.
His response came in the form of a dramatic groan. âThatâs the meanest thing Iâve heard all week. Youâre better than this.â
You turned around and walked toward the kitchen, your tone a little sharper now. âGet used to it.â
JJ responded immediately, his voice carrying a hint of challenge. âNever,â he shot back. Then, after a brief pause, his tone softened, but he added a teasing edge. âPregnancy hormones have turned you into a completely different person. And itâs only been six days.â
The way he always knew how to push your buttonsâand somehow make you smile instead of snapâwas maddening. You found yourself tapping the corner of the table with your fingers, a habit you didnât even notice until it happened. âI take pride in that,â you said, a playful grin tugging at your lips.
JJ came back stronger, more confident this time. âHey, do you think itâs the hormones, or is it because you havenât seen my handsome face for six whole days?â There was that familiar cocky tone, but you could tell he was trying to make you laugh. âIâd bet everything itâs because you havenât seen my handsome face.â
âEven your surfboard?â you teased, your voice lifting just enough to show you were fully invested in the banter now. You moved toward the living room and dropped onto the couch, your gaze briefly flitting to the TV. But your attention was fully locked on JJ.
âNot a chance,â he replied instantly, almost defensive. âThe boardâs off-limits. Too precious.â
You chuckled, grabbing the nearby blanket and pulling it over your lap. âThen youâve lost everything except the surfboard,â you said, shaking your head in mock disapproval. JJâs laugh echoed through the phone, rich and warm, before he quipped, âYouâve been extra rude lately,â his voice carrying a mix of mock hurt and teasing amusement.
You didnât just roll your eyesâyou sank deeper into the couch, grabbing a pillow to prop yourself up. Of course, heâd called just to mess with you. Was he bored? Had he decided you were the best target for entertainment? âIâve always been like this,â you replied with a shrug he couldnât see.
âNope,â JJ shot back instantly, his tone softer but still certain. A brief silence followed, filled only by the sound of your own breathing, before he spoke again. This time, his voice was a little more sincere. âSo⌠howâs it going? Living alone and all?â
You didnât hate that he asked. Actually, it felt nice to talk to someone. As an adultâor whatever weird in-between phase you were inâsocializing wasnât exactly easy. It hadnât been easy on the island either, but at least that had been your choice. This wasnât.
You took a deep breath, realizing the question was harder to answer than youâd expected. âIt sucks,â you admitted finally, the honesty not surprising you in the slightest.
âWhy?â JJâs voice was softer now, laced with just enough concern to feel genuine but not suffocating. It was like he always knew how to navigate these moments without overstepping. And honestly, it was strangeâgood strange.
You tried to sort through the chaos in your head. âI donât know,â you said with a faint sigh. âI havenât really connected with anyone. I donât know anyone here.â
JJ, ever the problem-solver in his own weird way, jumped in with his trademark ease. âThen make friends with the stray cats,â he said, that classic carefree tone of his bringing a smile to your face despite everything.
âI already have you,â you teased back, your voice dripping with sarcasm. âI couldnât possibly betray you.â
His laugh from the other end of the line was contagious. âNot funny.âÂ
Fidgeting with the edge of the blanket, you hesitated before mumbling, âAre you okay? How are you?â Somehow, over the phone, it felt easier to askâless intimidating than it wouldâve been face-to-face.
âIâm amazing,â JJ said, his voice taking on a flat, almost robotic tone that screamed deflection.
âYour ego is exhausting,â you retorted, matching his sarcasm. Why couldnât he just answer the question for once? Did everything have to be a game? âSeriously. How are you? After⌠you know, that day.â
JJ exhaled deeply, and when he finally spoke, his voice was quieter, almost reluctant. âI donât live with my dad anymore.â
You sat up straighter, grabbing the remote to lower the TVâs volume. âWait, really?â
âYeah,â he said simply, like it wasnât a big deal. âPacked up my stuff and left.â
It wasnât exactly shocking. In fact, you were relieved heâd done it. Knowing heâd been living with someone who hurt him was unbearable. But still, you couldnât stop your brow from furrowing. You couldnât shake the worry. âAre you staying with John B?â
JJâs silence was unexpected. You listened to the sound of his breathing, the faintest hitch before he finally answered. âKind of?â
âWhat does that mean?â Your voice sharpened with concern. Why was he dancing around the answer when he could just tell you?
JJ sighed again, his tone shifting as though heâd stepped further away from the phone. âThey donât know I left yet. And I donât want to talk about it.â
He hadnât told his closest friends? Why? They werenât the type to judge him. You didnât know them well, but you were sure of that much. It didnât make sense.
Even as your worry grew, you knew pressing him wasnât the right move. âSo where are you staying?â you asked cautiously.
JJâs tone hardened. âI said I donât want to talk about it.â There it wasâhis three-year-old tantrum mode. Did he really think people didnât have the right to worry about him? Idiot.
You pinched the bridge of your nose, already feeling your patience wearing thin. âAs your friend, Iâm allowed to be concerned about your safety, JJ. Just tell me where youâre staying.â
His tone shifted again, this time lighter, more teasing. âFriend, huh? Thatâs nice. Kook and Pogue forever.â
âShut it,â you snapped, your irritation clear. All you wanted was to know he was safe. âJust tell me already.â
JJ paused, then let out a soft laughâthe kind you knew was covering up something deeper. Even a toddler could tell. âI stayed with them for a few days. Been figuring it out since.â
You frowned. That wasnât a solution. âYou need to tell them,â you said gently.
He responded with the same stubbornness youâd come to expect, but his tone hinted at a smirk. âThis is my problem, princess.â Then, as if to shift the mood, he added, âThis is the first time weâve talked on the phone. Cute, right? Now, tell me about your day.â
Despite the worry gnawing at you, you relaxed just a little. He wouldnât be joking around like this if things were terrible⌠right?
You hoped so causeâJJ is your friend.
#obx#jj maybank#jj fanfiction#jj serie#obx jj#obx jj maybank#rafe cameron#obx cast#obx fic#obx4#obx jj x reader#obx season 4#rafe obx#outer banks#obx 4#outer banks 4#rafe x you#rafe fic#rafe smut#rafe cameron fanfiction#rafe cameron smut#rafe cameron x you#outerbanks rafe#sarah cameron#kiara obx#kiara carrera#john b routledge#pope heyward#cleo obx
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CLIMB THROUGH MY WINDOW
PART TWO â [fuckboy!chris x smart!reader. alcohol, drugs, dj on the vj, fingering, eating pussy]. you find yourself gravitated towards chris at a party, letting up more than you thought you would.
Ę part one É â Ę part three É
despite your studious lifestyle, and somewhat good decision making as a teenager, you didn't always turn down a party. if you had done all your work for the week, and had found a good lie to tell your parents, then youâd show up.
after that night in your room with chris he hadn't really spoken to you, other than in class or around school. you hated to admit it, but it bothered you. a lot.Â
it had been a week since then and youâd already seen him chatting to other girls by their lockers, leaning on them like some idiot as he chatted them up.Â
you didn't let that bother you. you knew chris, and what he was like. he was a fuck boy, of course he was gonna do exactly that and fuck other girls. deep down you wished you had the sexual confidence to sleep with other guys, maybe make chris feel shit. although a part of you knew he wouldn't even care.
you also knew that not having sex with him was bound to push him away, but you werenât stupid enough to just sleep with him to keep him close. if he didnât want what you was giving him then he could fuck off. which is what he would do.
this was your first time at a boys party though. you thought there'd be no difference, it was the same clump of teenagers in their school that showed up to all the parties. but apparently, not having a girl as the host meant there were a lot more rouge plus ones and a lot less organisation.Â
the house was poorly lit, only adding to everyone's intoxication, as well as the mixed smell of bo and alcohol.Â
you walked through the crowd, clinging onto your best friend's hand in the hopes that you wouldn't be separated. the both of you thought that making a beeline for the garden was the best idea, but the second you got out there it was just as busy.
âwho the fuck are all these people?â you mutter to bella. âno idea.â she huffed, looking around to observe all the new faces.
as you make your way through the garden, you spot chris. heâs sat on an outdoor sofa, surrounded by other rowdy boys and some girls who were very obviously flirting with him and his friends. you tug at bella's arm, motioning towards chris.
âno, i don't wanna go over there.â bella huffs, raising an eyebrow. âcâmon. it's just chris, you know he's nice. besides, he's my friend.â you say, slightly desperate to go over there.Â
âfriend?â she questions, giving you a certain look. âyou guys are fucking.â she mumbles under her breath. you scoff at her words. âi'm literally a virgin.â you retort, as if that changed anything.
âyou're still doing stuff with him.â bella mumbles back, trying to tease you. âokay whatever, i'll meet up with you in a bit.â you say, giving her a kiss on the cheek. âkay love ya.â she hums back before you separate ways.Â
you walk over to chris, noticing the half rolled joint in his hand. as soon as youâre close, he immediately looks up, a bright smile on his face. âdidn't expect to see you here.â he says, returning his gaze to the joint as he delicately compacts the tobacco and weed into a cone.
âwhy not?â you remark, taking a sip of your drink, the already decided first and last of the night. he shrugs, licking the paper. âdunno, hardly see ya at parties.â he responds, folding over the paper meticulously before looking up at you. âthought you'd have too much work to do.â he remarks.
you raise your eyebrows at his comment. âwell i don't.â you say with a smug smile. âhmm, that's a first.â he mumbles, the joint hanging from his lips, making his words even less clear.Â
âshut up.â you roll your eyes, frowning slightly. he smirks to himself, leaning forward to get a lighter off the table.Â
you hesitate slightly, going to sit on the armrest of the sofa. he takes note as he leans back, âyou can sit yâknow.â he says, bringing the lighter up to the end of his zoot. you sit down, fixing your skirt slightly to be composed on the small surface.Â
he wastes no time wrapping his arm behind you, his hand gripping onto your hip. youâre a little shocked at the tame yet out in the open pda, but watching chris relax as he inhales the weed makes you realise that it was very possible that he'd done other shit tonight too.
âyou want some?â he asks, smoke tumbling out of his mouth as he speaks. you look down at the joint being offered to you, hesitating for a second.
âyou can say no, mânot forcing-â you interrupt, pinching it from his hand as you take a toke. he smirks, watching as you smokes. he won't deny, you looked very attractive.
you hand it back, appreciating the burn to the back of your throat at the strength. âgood?â he questions your reaction.
âbetter than any other weed i've smoked.â you answer honestly, taking a sip of your drink, hoping it would soothe your throat, despite the fact it was a vodka-coke.
âthat's cos iâve got good shit.â he says, his face scrunching as he inhales whilst talking. a couple of his friends leave, creating an open space next to chris. he taps the side of your thigh, motioning you to move to sit next to him.
you stand promptly, walking past his spread legs to sit next to him.Â
âwhat you drinkin then?â he asks curiously, a little smile on his face like he's teasing you for drinking. âguess.â you respond, holding it out for him to try. he sighs, reluctantly grabbing the cup from your grasp to give into your little game.
he takes a sip, grimacing slightly. âyou drink vodka-coke?â he questions, the judgement clear in his voice as he hands the solo cup back. âit's better than doing coke.â you mumble, a stupid jokey remark you were almost embarrassed to say out loud.
he gives you a look, a slightly amused smile on his face. âthat was a poor joke.â he tells you, despite the grin on his face. âwell, it's true.â you say sharply, giving him a look of disappointment.
he shakes his head with a smile before taking a toke. âsince when dâyou care bout the drugs i do?â he asks casually, a small frown on his face, contrasting his slight smile.
you could tell he was a little offended, and that he actually didn't like the joke youâd made. you shrug. âi wouldn't say i care, sâjust not good for you.â
âhmm.â he nods a little, which was him nicely telling you to fuck off. âso like, you wouldn't let mâdo a line off you?â he mumbles, looking over at you with an intense gaze as he takes another puff.
you almost choke on your drink, your eyes wide as he asks. âuh.â you cough a little, composing yourself slightly. âwhat dâyou mean a line- like where on me?â you question, now a little curious at the proposition.
he grins at your response, shrugging. âdunno, between your tits or somethin.â he says casually.
âand how many girls have you done that with?â you question, calling him out a bit.
âbetween the tits?â he repeats, thinking for a second. ânone.â you roll your eyes at the obvious insinuation that he'd done lines off other parts of girls bodies.Â
âwant anymore?â he offers, his eyes now a little more red and sleepy. you take it from him, relaxing back on the couch as you inhale.
âso, sâthat a no on the line?â he murmurs, clearly high as a kite as he looks over at you with a lazy smile, subtly holding out a baggie with white powder.Â
you look over at him in slight disappointment, snatching the baggie from between his fingers as you shove it into his coat pocket. âdon't just pull that out.â you panic slightly, not loving how carefree he was sometimes.Â
he looks around, clicking his tongue against his teeth. âno one here gives a shit.â he grumbles, frowning a little before his gaze meets yours again, his eyes silently asking.
âyou actually want to?â you question, not really understanding the point. you take a toke of the zoot after speaking, stubbing the end out into the ashtray on the table.Â
he shrugs with a small smirk. âwhy not?â he questions, like he's daring you to do so. you sigh, questioning your own judgement as you actually consider it.Â
he senses your hesitation, leaning forward a bit as his elbows rest on his knees. âdoesnât have tâbe between your tits.â he mumbles, his eyes roaming over your body like he was looking for another spot. âcould do it off your thigh.â he suggests, his voice almost hoarse as he speaks, making it very apparent that he himself liked that idea.Â
you definitely preferred that idea, it seemed like less of a hassle. maybe it was the mixture of the alcohol and the weed, clouding your judgement, but you were down to do that. âmâkay.â you mumble, giving in. it's not like you yourself were gonna do a line.
he nods a little, almost proud of you for saying yes and venturing out a bit. then he stands, offering his hand to you before he leads you through the house, your delicate hand gripping onto his more rough one as you tag along behind him.Â
he took you to an upstairs bathroom, letting you shut and lock the door behind you. you turn and he's already got the baggie out, holding it open. âshut the lid, nâsit.â he tells you, motioning towards the toilet.Â
you do as told, mindlessly chucking your bag onto the floor before you take a seat on the closed toilet lid, the plastic cold against your upper thighs.
âthis is so stupid.â you mumble, feeling a little nervous. âand pointless.â you add, watching as he sorts out his shit.Â
ânah, it's hot.â he corrects, walking over to you before he gets on his knees in front of you. he holds his id card against your thigh, almost creating a barrier before he sprinkles a small line over your skin.Â
you watch intensely, feeling your heart rate spike at the sheer adrenaline of the situation.
âdon't move.â he tells you, using the edge of the card to straighten out the line a little. you take in a small breath, trying your hardest to remain completely still.
he puts the baggie and his card away, looking up to see your slightly nervous expression. âyou good?â he asks, his hand coming to gently rub your other thigh. you nod a little. âcan you just do it, i'm scared i'm gonna flinch or move or something.â you say quickly, clearly quite stressed about the prospect of spilling the expensive substance on your thigh.
he chuckles slightly at your panic, more calm as he trusted that you wouldn't move. but he complies, reaching into his back pocket for a dollar bill.
he rolls it into a tube before leaning over slightly as he brings it to one nostril, pressing the other with his finger. you feel the dollar bill touch you slightly, before he runs it along the line, snorting the coke.Â
he's quick to tip his head back, his face scrunching as he sniffs, making sure it's all in.
your grip on the side of the toilet seat loosens slightly, as the muscles in your thigh relax. you look over at him as he puts the bill away, sniffling a little as it passes. then your gaze shifts to the tiny trace of the substance on your thigh, a miniscule amount left.
he pops his thumb into his mouth before collecting the remainder on your skin. âyou want it?â he offers, although he's not expecting you to say yes. you shake your head. âhow are you meant to snort that?â you question.
he smirks before sucking it off his thumb and then wiping it clean on his jeans. âlike that.â he says, watching as you look at him curiously. âhuh.â you mumble.
âsânot a lot, won't do much.â he shrugs, before looking back up at you.Â
neither of you move as his gaze shifts over your body, specifically at your exposed thighs and short denim skirt.Â
the coke was obviously getting to him as his gaze became fixed and concentrated, whereas your mind was spinning slightly. you were minorly cross faded, making you more brave than usual, as demonstrated by that little performance you just took part in.
âwhat kinda underwear dâya wear.â he mumbles, his eyes not leaving your thighs. you smile at his question, finding amusement and confidence in the fact that he thought about that kinda stuff.Â
instead of answering you begin to part your legs, revealing your black lacy underwear, the material only partially see through.Â
his mind blanks at your action, his mouth filling with saliva as he admires the view and boldness. âyou wear lacy shit?â he questions, his voice hoarse and lustful. âonly when i dress up.â you respond with a smile, looking down at his reaction.
âlooks fuckin sexy.â he mumbles, moving his hand forward to lightly brush his fingers over the fabric, feeling the slight dampness.
his head falls against your thigh at the feeling of how wet you are, his other hand gripping your calf. âfuck.â he groans, keeping his fingers there.Â
he looks up at you eventually, his eyes heavy. âdâyou have any idea how wet yâare?â he mumbles. you nod with a small smile, basking in how much it was sending him over the edge.Â
he refrains from moaning again, instead returning his attention back to the heat between your legs. you gently play with his hair as you watch his fixation. âcan i?â he murmurs.
you donât even know what he's asking, but youâre quick to respond. âyeah.â you whisper, catching your bottom lip between your teeth.
he pushes the bottom of your skirt up, watching as it bunches at your hips. then he hooks his fingers into your underwear, tugging it down your legs. you lift your hips up, helping him, and that's all the confirmation he needs to know youâre more than ok with this.
he separates your legs, admiring your naked form. âfuck-â he whispers, reaching out to touch you, sliding his fingers through your folds. you slouch back, looking down at the movement of his hands. you keep an eye on where his hands are going, almost waiting for him to do something.
his middle finger moves lower, gently prodding at your entrance. you flinch slightly at the new feeling.
âyou still not into me fingerin you?â he questions, fixated on the way the tip of his finger slipped in slightly. âyou can.â you breathe out, suddenly desperate to feel him. maybe it was your intoxication talking, but either way you knew you wanted chris, you just struggled to rationalise and vocalise it to him.
âyou sure?â he asks, tilting his head up to look at you. you nod eagerly, opening your legs a little wider to give him access.
he wastes no time slowing pushing his finger in before gently twisting his wrist to get the right angle. you bask in the new sensation, never having had anything up there. then he speeds up quickly, curling his finger up into your g-spot.
âoh fuck-â you gasp, your body tensing slightly at the intense pleasure. he concentrates on the rhythm of his arm, making sure to hit the spot inside you perfectly.Â
âcan't lie, i really wanna go down on you.â he murmurs breathlessly, clearly overcome with lust in the moment.Â
âwhat..?â you mumble out, returning to reality for a second as you focus your eyes on his face, and the desperate expression on it.Â
âyâknow, when you give a girl head-.â he explains with a sly grin. you shake your head quickly. âfuck off.â you scowl at his sarcasm. âi mean like, right here?â you raise your eyebrows as you question.
he looks over your body, your legs spread for him, exposing yourself at almost eye level. âwell, i meanâŚâ he raises an eyebrow, making a point about the position you were in right now.
you think for a second, looking over the situation. he senses the hesitation, bringing his hand to gently rub your thigh. âitâll feel real good. promise.â he tells you, venturing closer.
your heart rate picks up as he brings his face closer to your heat, a peak in anxiety and insecurity as no ones been that close to you like that before. but all that vanishes as his tongue presses over your sensitive clit, making your body jerk in pleasure.
âmghh..â you groan, threading your fingers through his hair. he gets the message, immediately going all in, circling his tongue over your clit expertly, his hand still gripping your thigh.
âyou're really good at that.â you croak out, your mouth momentarily falling open at the feeling. he smirks against you, concentrating on the task at hand as he soaks in the praise.
after a few minutes of the delicate touch of his tongue, he shifts so that he can hold both your thighs, pulling you closer to his face. for comfort you end up mindlessly resting your legs over his shoulders as he goes in further, sucking and nipping at your clit.
it makes your back arch, chris holding down your hips with his hands. âfuck-â you moan, your voice cut off by a gasp as he gently slips a finger in.
you sit up a little, looking down at him with an already fucked out expression. âwait- iâm gonna cum if you do that.â he removes his mouth, looking up at you curiously, âis that not the point?â he taunts, his finger slowly moving in and out of you.
âyeah, but i'll be too loud.â you whimper, reminding the both of you where you were, anyone could be outside that door waiting for the toilet.
his smirk only widens at your admission, âbe quiet then.â he ushers before his lips connect with your clit again. he leaves you with no time to dispute before gasps and whines are tumbling out of your mouth again.
he's quick to match the pace of his finger with the movement of his tongue, applying more pressure to your sensitive nerve as his finger hits your g-spot repeatedly.Â
you grip onto his hand that's still on your thigh, holding tightly as you try to make less noise.Â
from the constant simultaneous stimulation you feel, waves of pleasure coarse through your body, digging your nails into his skin as your orgasm builds up.
âgonna come.â you squeak, trying your best to stay silent. you resolve to covering your mouth with your hand, poorly muffling your moans as your high hits. he looks up at you from his position between your legs, not wanting to miss the sight of you coming undone from his touch.
your hips desperately grind forward onto chris's mouth as you come, his movements slowing to a reasonable pace. he removes his mouth, watching his finger pump in and out slowly as your body shakes and you come down from your orgasm, eventually pulling his finger out.
once you've calmed down, he gently removes your legs from his shoulders, planting your feet on the floor.Â
âholy fuck.â you breathe out, almost in shock from how good that felt. he basks in your orgasmic haze, loving how good he made you feel. âyou taste really good.â he comments, sucking your slick off his middle finger.Â
âdon't do that- that's disgusting.â you mutter, frowning judgmentally.
âwhat?â he chuckles, amused by your reaction. âi just had mâtongue on your pussy.â he points out. you grimace a little, despite the truth of it. âdon't say it like that.â you mumble, shaking your head slightly with the same disgusted look on your face.Â
he rolls his eyes playfully as he stands up, âyou're ridiculous.â he tells you before he goes to wash his hands.Â
you sit up, your legs a little shaky as you pick your underwear off the floor, stepping into them. you stand, pulling them up before fixing your skirt.Â
âyou good?â he asks, leaning against the counter as you sort your stuff. before you can answer there's a bang on the door followed by a loud voice telling you to hurry up.
your eyes go wide, and you want nothing more than to curl up into a ball and hide. âchris, i can't go out there.â you whisper, picking your bag off the floor.
âsâfine.â he says, like that's supposed to just reassure you completely. he saunters to the door, unlocking it and pulling it open almost theatrically.Â
chris daps the guy up, and from the friendly interaction you can tell it's one of his friends.
âyou guys hookin up?â he asks, looking between the both of you with a grin, his gaze remaining on your legs for far too long.
ânah, just doin the usual.â chris says, subtly wiping his nose as he speaks. the guy's eyebrows raise before he looks over at you again. âyou do coke?â he questions, clearly surprised.
you go to respond, your words getting caught in your throat. but it doesn't matter because chris is already talking. âshe did a bump, wanted to try it.â chris says, leaning closer to the guy as he speaks.
then chris's arm wraps around your waist, pulling you further away from the bathroom. âsee ya around.â chris says to the guy, before pushing you so that you were now walking in front of him, a part of you thinking he did it to block the view of your ass from his friend.
âyou okay?â he asks you, walking behind you as you descend the stairs with slightly shaky legs. âfuck off.â you tell him, trying to act like he hadn't just made your legs complete jelly.
he chuckles a little at your attitude, holding his hands up in surrender. âmâjust asking.â he mumbles, a grin on his face.
you both reach the bottom of the stairs and you turn to look at him. âwell i'm fine.â you hum before looking down at your unstable legs. âmy legs are just a bit shaky.â you mumble under your breath.
his eyebrows raise a little, his own cockiness taking over. âoh really, why's that?â he asks, leaning on the bannister with a sly knowing smirk.
you roll your eyes, not wanting to feed into his ego further, although to be fair that may have been the best orgasm of your life.Â
âwhy'd you always ruin it?â you huff, moving to stand in front of him, his arm still over the bannister. âmânot ruining nothin.â he mumbles, pressing his lips together as he pulls you in by your hip.Â
your bodies are flush, and you can feel his steady heartbeat against your own chest, a contrast to yours. you look around at the crowds of people, some in conversation, others walking past the both of you to go upstairs. âyou sure you wanna be seen like this with me?â you question, taking note of the increased pda when he's coked.Â
he pouts, a soft frown forming on his face. âwhat's that meant to mean?â he mumbles, although he knows exactly what you mean.Â
âwe just look very couply right now.â you point out, looking at the lack of space between your bodies. he shrugs like it's nothing, but you know it is.
âso, we're just two people havin fun at a party.â he says, his other hand coming up to brush a strand of hair out of your face, tentatively tucking it behind your ear. âjust cos we look couply, dont mean we are.â he adds.Â
âmâkay.â you mumble, just accepting his silly answer. âwhat?â he questions, frowning down at your change in expression.Â
ânothing.â you say, spreading a smile across your face to reassure him. âsânot nothin, whatâd i say?â he asks, his hand now playing with the ends of your hair although his gaze is focussed on your eyes, following their every move.Â
you sigh, unsure of what to even say. âit's just-â you're cut off by him kissing you, his hands gripping your face to hold you in place. the kiss is hot, but softer than usual. his tongue isn't licking across your lip like usual, instead it's just the soft plush of his own lips. the intensity is there, it's just not in the action, rather in the emotion. which scares you a little.Â
he pulls away, pressing a soft peck to your lips. âstop thinkin so much.â he tells you with a small smile, rubbing his hand over your cheek.Â
you look up, into his eyes, aware of how adoring your gaze must be right now. âsorry.â you mumble out, drawing your eyes away from his.Â
âyou're good.â he says shortly, before he kisses her head. you feel cold as soon as he's no longer touching you.Â
âi'm gonna go find bella.â you tell him, taking a little step away trying to keep it casual after that interaction. he nods, looking around a little. âi'll see you later then?â he says. you nod before parting ways.
you watch him walk away, letting out a breath you were unknowingly holding. fuck.
Šsturnsrecord
notes . reupload from my previous account @/plan8sturn, I will be continuing the series here
#sturniolo smut#chris sturniolo smut#chris sturiolo fanfic#sturniolo fanfic#matt sturniolo#sturniolo triplets#nick sturniolo#sturniolo#chris sturniolo#â
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ctmw
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noise complaints (part 2)
A/N: Fine you gay people win. Hereâs part two⌠sorry if itâs horrible, I am NOT a writer and I did NOT spellcheck this. Also I now realize she was technically going by Agnes at the time bc she was still under the spell when she was in her cop era⌠too lazy late to fix it â¤ď¸
Summary: After Agatha finds you and Rio outside of the party she busted surrounded by two guys from your high school, she feels she has a few lessons to teach you two. (Reading part one is highly suggested!)
Warnings: smut, strap-on use, degradation and praise, vouyerism, impact play, fingering, oral, punishment, mean!Agatha, gunplay if you squint and spin three times, orgasm denial, bondage, masturbation, Rio being too bratty for her own good, use of âY/Nâ, I donât know if I can be more specific than this, itâs filth!
Pairing: Older!Cop!Dom!Agatha x Younger!Sub!R x Brat!Sub!Rio
NSFW below the cut MDNI!
After the cruel scolding that was sure to be only the beginning of the harsh words you and Rio would face that night, Agatha drags the two of you back to her patrol car by your wrists. You stumbled over your feet, trying your hardest to keep up with your furious girlfriend; Meanwhile Rio dragged her feet along reluctantly, trying desperately to keep up her careless, tough exterior and get a rise out of the cop.
Rio is thrown into the passenger side of the car, her hair nearly caught in the door as Agatha slams it, leading you towards the back door.
âAt least one of my sluts is eager to please⌠Keep it up and maybe you can get what you want tonight.â She shouts the last part, addressing you, but directing the comment towards your brattier counterpart, who was now fidgeting in the front seat.
Agatha gets in the car, starting it up and taking off on the short ride back to your shared home. Rioâs placement in the front of the car was meant to keep her in check, keep her in Agathaâs direct line of vision and in close reach for reprimand. Rio had different ideas of how to use her forced proximity.
Your older girlfriendâs breathing had just reached some sort of equilibrium, no longer audibly seething through her breaths alone, when Rio reached over the console and slid her hand into Agathaâs lap. Much to your horror, Agatha just laughs.
âYou have no idea what youâre getting yourself into, doll. You have five seconds to take your hand and keep it to yourself before I decide youâll be sleeping in the guest room for the next week.â Rio, of course, waits until the very end of those five seconds before dragging her hand back across Agathaâs lap, making sure to brush her covered core ever-so-slightly before bringing it back to her side of the console to pout. You shudder under the reflection of Agathaâs hooded gaze in the rear view mirror as she grinds her teeth down against each other in a fiery frustration.
The silence and tension grows more and more palpable as the drive comes to an end when Agatha throws the cruiser into park at the top of your driveway, right next to Rioâs precious bike. She wasnât exactly being careful to swerve away from it.
Before you could even think of reaching for your door handle, it was thrown open and you and Rio were being forced into the home. You were at the front, being pushed into the house by Agathaâs right hand, which was tangled in your hair and gripping it into a ponytail. Rio was being dragged in the back by Agathaâs tight grip on her ear. If you didnât know better, youâd be giggling at the way the slightly taller girl resembled a misbehaving child being scolded by her upset mother. If Rio knew better, she wouldnât have acted like a misbehaving child.
It was clearly too late for this when Agatha practically tossed you two into the house, all in the same manner as youâd seen her do with her bags after a long day at work. She ran her tongue between her top teeth and her top lip as she looked you and your girlfriend up and down, almost as if deciding between a library of options for how to deal with the two of you.
âBoth of you, go to my room now and be ready for me in the next minute⌠Y/N, pick something pretty out from my drawer, would you, hun?â With that, she had decided.
As you and Rio made your way into your bedroom and Rio made her way to the edge of the bed, you slid the drawer open and instinctively grabbed your favorite from the assortment, a small and quiet but powerful bullet that Agatha could control from her phone. You were hoping sheâd use it on you again, but there was no point in asking once she walked in, because it would almost surely earn you the exact opposite.
She walks in to find you sitting on your heels at the same spot at the edge of the bed where Rio sat, manspreading and fidgeting with the seam on her shirt. She takes the small purple toy from your hands and kisses the top of your head, a chillingly gentle gesture in contrast with her bubbling anger that night. Her hand slips from the side of your jaw to the underside of your chin, tilting your head up just a bit so that you were looking up and meeting her eyes with your own. âSuch a good choice, sweet girl.â
She then turns to Rio, who hasnât yet given up her false tough demeanor. âKiss her. How you were before I walked in early tonight. Pretend Iâm not even here, and God help you if you hold back even the slightest bit.â With that, she sat down in the large armchair directly in the eye line from where you sat.
Rio smiles slyly and slides her hands into the back of your head, tangling her digits in your hair as she meets your lips with her own. Your own hands, shaking, find her hips as she deepens the kiss and straddles you as youâre still sitting on your knees with rigid posture that reflects your nervousness outwardly. When you finally melt into her touch the slightest bit, losing yourself in her confident dominance, you hear Agatha stand and are suddenly enveloped in her shadow as Rio is yanking away from you.
Or rather, being yanked away. You note Agathaâs grip around Rioâs waves as she speaks in an even more gravely voice than usual, âThat was your final chance to prove yourself as something more than a greedy bitch. Get in the chair.â
She swallows, devoid of any of the dominance from seconds prior, and climbs into the chair Agatha had just risen from. The latter takes Rioâs seat next to you, but lifts you onto her lap with your right leg slotted between her own, your center falling onto the top of her right thigh. Once you could see clearly again as the rush of her rough fingers around your waist simmered the smallest bit, you realized you were sitting on something⌠hard? and let out an involuntary whisper.
Agatha looks down at where your legs meet and then back at you, grinning like the devil, as Rio writhes in her seat. Agatha immediately clocks the movement from over your shoulder. âIf you ever want me to make you come again, youâll sit still and enjoy the show Iâm so generously giving you after your disgusting displays tonight.â Rio reluctantly complies. She returns her attention to you, now digging her fingers into your hips with bruising force, and guides you ever-so-slightly back and forth against the pressure below you. âAgatha?â you breathe out.
âYeah, angel?â The title almost makes you forget what was supposed to follow your initial words. The hardness below you reminds you quickly. âAre you⌠did you wear the strap to work?â you nearly whisper, the question barely audible to your other girlfriend, who sat still now and held onto every word from you and the woman below you uttered. âNo, baby, try again.â
It seems as if all the blood in your body rushes to your face as you realize that what you were grinding down onto wasnât the strap youâd been mercilessly filled with time after time, but her patrol weapon. It was mind-blowingly filthy and embarrassing to you, which brought both Agatha and Rio more pleasure than any other act the three of you had carried out together could. âKeep moving those pretty hips, hun. Donât shy away from being a slut now, itâs a little too late for that.â You bit your lip hard enough to taste the same metallic tang from before you left the same room earlier that night as you hid your blushing face in the crook of the copâs neck.
âHey, come back, angel, Iâve got a question for you.â You look up reluctantly, dreading the eye contact you knew she would demand as you spoke. âYes maâam.â She chuckled lowly at this, âOh, what, now you wanna be good for me? Nice try. What I was wonderingâŚ. was if you think our greedy girl over there should get to join us.â You look over your shoulder at the desperate woman, your eyes glossing over at the sight of her thighs pressed together so tightly they could surely suffocate you if your head found its way between them as it so often did. You turn back to Agatha and offer only a nod, not trusting your breath to stay loyal to you.
Agatha curled a finger, beckoning your girlfriend over and watching as she scrambled to the bed. âNow, Y/N, do you think I should use thisâ she held up the toy youâd previously picked out from her collection âon Rio here? Think itâd be fun to see her crumble under the stimulation and forget all about her little stone-cold act?â You nodded quicker than you knew possible. âNo, I need words.â You swallow and breathe in shakily, hips still moving on their own accord. âYes. Please, wanna see.â She just smiles and lifts you off of her leg as she readies her attention on the other girl.
âI think she has to earn it.â
Ok guys this was like⌠part 1.5, the first half of part 2 of the OG post. The rest of the warnings will apply to the next part if they werenât in this one, and Iâm hoping to have that one out like the middle of next week! LMK what yall wanna see in the next part beside what I have planned :)
Also for those who wanted to be tagged: @sunshine-makes-flowers-grow @wandaslittlelove @babybeeelle @believe-in-magic13 @reeselov3salexvause @ahintofchaos @girlwithissuesworld @lovelyy-moonlight @teenybean @jorddddddddd
#wlw#agathario#kathrynhahn#agatha harkness x reader#agathario x reader#aubrey plaza x reader#agatha harkness x rio vidal x reader
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tbh when I first saw the sentence "Activism is not cold-calling" I thought it was gonna go in a different direction. I fully agree with the post! and it reminds me of the advice on how to build community that is about *listening* to people first and actually engaging them in what they care about instead of rattling off some points YOU care about.
so for example, instead of going to Moderate Jason saying "Hello comrade do you have a minute to talk about socialism and how billionaires' taxes should pay for bike lanes!?" just have a normal conversation and ask them what kind of problems bother them or what difficulties they have to deal with in their day to day lives. and you actually listen and ask questions and care about what they think and see if you can find any common ground. maybe the two of you (or them and someone else you know) face a similar problem or one with the same root cause or with the same solution.
and this is not about getting them to parrot talking points or use the same kind of political language you do or join your group - this is about getting them to consider that maybe there are approaches to their problems that are community focused rather than individualistic, that are about shared humanity rather than pointing fingers at scapegoats, that are pushing towards flatter hierarchies rather than more authoritarianism.
again, they might not use or like all those particular words. maybe they'll say "back in my day, I would bike to school, it's a shame that's not safe anymore for my kids to do now." and then you two together can brainstorm ideas of what might be done about that in your specific circumstances. and you do what you can to help with it! whether you teach them about citizens initiatives or organise a "kiddical mass" (bike demo with kids) or whatever else fits.
but of course bike lanes might not be important to Moderate Jason at all. it's just one example. maybe they're a car nut and care about right to repair. or maybe they like sitting at home watching tv and care about avoiding ads and trackers, or about media depiction and representation of characters with a marginalised trait they or someone they care about has.
chances are, you will find *something* they want to talk about that is influenced by "politics" in a wider sense. and you can just mention how you see these issues or what you can think of that might help.
it helps to practice this approach in your head or with like-minded friends: go through all kinds of different things people care about and think how those could be done better in your utopia. and what might be small steps from here to there.
I do that with fiction constantly. from sitcoms to epic sff, I often go "how would I propose this group or society handle things/ what would I do to make their world a better, more just place?" Or just revelling in how cool the heroes are that they actually do good things (and remembering those tactics and figuring out how to apply them to the real world)
Activism is not cold-calling.
Activism is not cold-calling, and this is critically important to understand.
I'm seeing a lot of posts on here about 'building bridges' and 'finding community,' and then (extremely valid) response posts saying "BUT HOW??" And I'm going to explain something that can be very counter-intuitive: there is strategy involved in community.
As a longtime volunteer labour organizer, Iâve taken and taught many trainings on the strategy of talking. Something that surprises a lot of people is the very first thing you do in a union campaign. You sit down with your organizing committee, take out pen and paper, and literally map it out. You draw a physical map of the workplace: where are the entrances, exits, break rooms, supervisor offices. Essentially, âwhere is it safe to have a union conversation.â Then you draw another physical chart of your coworkers. You sort out who is union-friendly, openly hostile to unions, or somewhere in the middle, and then you plan out very deliberately and carefully who talks to whom and in what order.
Consider: If Vocally Leftist Jane walks up to Conservative David and says "hey what do you think about unions," David is going to shut down immediately. He's not inclined to listen to Jane. But if Jane talks to Moderate Jason and brings him into the fold, then Jason is a far more effective strategic choice to talk to David, and David may actually hear him out without an instant reaction.
IMPORTANT CAVEAT: If Conservative David turns out to be Alt-Right David, and could be dangerous to follow organizers, we write him off. We are not trying to reach Alt-Right David. We are trying to reach Conservative David, who may actually be persuaded to find solidarity with other employees as fellow workers. Jason is a safe scout to find out which one he is. It does no one any good if Leftist Jane (or even Moderate Jane who is a visible minority) talks to Alt-Right David and puts herself on his radar. Not only has she done nothing to convince Alt-Right David to join a union - she's probably actively turned him against the idea - but now she's also in danger and the entire campaign is at risk. NOBODY WANTS THIS. Jane was NOT a hero for doing this. The organizing committee was foolish and enacted a terrible strategy to everyone's detriment.
Where you can make a difference is with people who will listen to you. You having a conversation with your well-meaning but clueless Centrist Democrat Auntie, and maybe gently helping her understand some things the media has been glossing over, is way more strategically useful than you marching up to MAGA Neighbour You've Met Once and trying to "build community" or "understand" them. They don't care. They're impervious, dangerous, and cruel. But maybe your beloved auntie will think about what you said, and then talk to her friend Anna who IDs as "fiscally conservative" but didn't vote because she can't bring herself to get on board with Trump. Then perhaps Anna talks to her brother Nic who has MAGA leanings but isn't all the way there yet. Proto-MAGA Nic would not have listened to you, nor would he have listened to Centrist Democrat Auntie, but he might absorb some of what his sister is saying.
This is not a cop-out or an echo chamber. This is you spending your time and energy strategically and safely. You are not a useful activist to anyone if youâre dead. Anyone who is telling you to hurl yourself directly at MAGA assholes like cannon fodder has no understanding of the strategy behind community building, and you should feel comfortable writing them off.
Last point: If you are tired, emotionally devastated, and/or in danger: take a break. This post is for people who would feel better jumping into action, not for people who are too overwhelmed to even think about it right now. You are worth so much even if youâre not actively Doing Activism, and your rest is worth more than âa break period so you can recharge and Do More Activism.â We all deserve the individual dignity of being worthy of comfort, rest & safety just on the basis of being human, outside of whatever we're doing for others' benefit. To deny ourselves that dignity is to devalue ourselves, and thatâs the absolute last thing any of us should be doing right now.
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The Glasses - The Dark Side
Author's Note: I'm trying something a little bit different with this story. I'm calling it a mirror story. I am going to write a story with the same basic prompt and ideas in two different ways. One wholesome and one dark. This is the dark story. I hope you all enjoy it! Read the wholesome version here.
Greg fancied himself an intellectual. He had a PhD, was the top of his field, and respected by all of his colleagues. He spent all of his free time reading books and papers, absorbing knowledge like a sponge.
Or at least he did, until he met Daddy.
Daddy was everything Greg desired. Daddy was tall, strong, assertive, and brilliant. Greg found himself immediately under the other man's spell.
The first day Daddy brought Greg home, Daddy sat Greg on the couch and pulled the glasses off of Greg's face.
"That's much better," Daddy growled confidently as he watched Greg's panic set in.
Greg, in contrast, found all of his self-confidence leave him as his corrective lenses were removed. Without his glasses, all Greg could see was a soft blur where Daddy's face should be. Greg was almost completely blind. He had never felt so vulnerable in his life, and he hated it.
"Um, could I please have my glasses back?" Greg asked timidly, butterflies fluttering in his stomach from the fear of being left without his glasses for any expanse of time, "I can't see anything without them."
Daddy laughed in response.
"Oh, my pet, you only get to see when Daddy says so."
Horrified, Greg dives for where he thought his glasses were, only to find himself perfectly draped over Daddy's lap.
"Oh, Greggy, you need to learn whose in charge!" Daddy said before Greg felt his pants pulled down to his knees and blows begin to rain down on his bottom.
Daddy never returned Greg's glasses that night, and, despite his horror at being effectively blind, all Greg made no attempt to get them back. With a sore bottom, Greg didn't dare cross Daddy again, especially once he realized that he was entirely reliant on the dominant man to care for him.
Over the course of the night, Greg struggled to care for himself. He sat frustrated through the whole movie, unable to tell what was going on.
He stumbled through Daddy's unfamiliar apartment, unable to tell where he was going. He made a mess of himself eating dinner, unable to see the food he attempted to shovel into his mouth or the utensil he was using to feed himself. And worst of all, Greg eventually ended up wetting himself when he couldn't find the restroom in time to relieve himself.
The whole time, Daddy looked on and teased him.
"Careful, big boy! If you're having this much trouble walking, maybe you should crawl?"
"What a messy boy! Looks like a certain someone could use a big!"
"Oh no! Did the big, smarty-pants professor go potty in his pants?"
Over the course of the night, Greg felt more embarrassed and humiliated than he had ever felt before. By removing just one of his possessions, Daddy has functionally reduced him to a small child.
When they parted that night, Daddy gave Greg his glasses back before showing Greg some pictures and videos on his phone. Greg, able to see again, looked on in horror at images of himself covered in food like a toddler, crawling on the floor after tripping, and, worst of all, wetting his pants.
"What do you think all of those smart colleagues you have would think of you if these ever hit the internet?" Daddy asked like a spider who knew it's pretty was now stuck in its web.
"Please, noâŚ" was all Greg could say in response.
After some 'negotiation,' Greg was able to convince Daddy to keep the images private in exchange for Greg's future cooperation.
As Greg left Daddy's house that night, he felt a strange since of dread set in at the prospect of what the beautiful man had in store for him next. He couldn't imagine giving in and losing his personal autonomy like that again.
Pursuant to their deal, Greg kept seeing Daddy after that night. Their dates took on a common form. At the start of each one, Daddy would remove Greg's glasses and take control over the other man. In turn, Greg would find himself fully submitting to Daddy and all of the humiliations he had devised for him. The few times Greg balked at his treatment, a quick trip over Daddy's lap, a reminder of the photos in Daddy's possession, and a threat to set Greg free without his glasses was all that was needed to remind the submissive man of his place in their relationship.
Over time, Greg--the PhD, the intellectual, and the brain--found Daddy taking more and more autonomy from him each time they met. It was painful for Greg, a struggle and hit to his ego each time he lost a part of himself. However, with Daddy's power over him he could do nothing to stop each relinquishment of freedom.
Over time, Daddy started picking the food Greg ate. He found his mature diet replaced with bland Cheerios, dino nuggets, and other foods designed for the picky palates of toddlers. When he complained, Daddy just pointed out it was easier to eat those foods with his fingers, since he couldn't see well enough to use utensils without his glasses.
He began drinking all of his drinks, which had predominantly become milk, out of baby bottles. Daddy told Greg it was to keep him from spilling given his lack of depth perception, but Greg could help but fill like an infant everytime the rubber teat was pressed between his lips.
Having his pants and underwear removed and replaced with pull-ups and, eventually, diapers each time he entered Daddy's apartment was similarly mortifying. Daddy made sure to emphasize the importance of the extra protection each time he dressed Greg in the infantile garments, given Greg's proven inability to make it to the toilet on time (something made worse each time Daddy changed him out of his soggy padding after Greg repeatedly failed to locate the bathroom in Daddy's home).
Daddy also stopped letting Greg pick out his own clothes. Daddy pointed out that the artificially blind man couldn't see them, and Daddy was the one who had to worry about getting Greg's clothes off to change him anyway, so giving Greg the freedom to dress himself just didn't make sense.
However, no matter how much control Daddy took from Greg, at the end of every 'date,' be it for a few hours or a weekend, Daddy would hand Greg his glasses back, returning Greg to the adult world of academia and filling Greg with a sense of hope that maybe, this would be the last time Daddy would call him over to play.
That pattern continued until one day, Daddy finally made the declaration that Greg had been dreading to hear for months.
"Baby boy, I think it's time you moved in with Daddy full time."
Greg started to cry in his place on the floor where he sat on a soft blanket dressed in only a diaper and onesie while failing to stack wooden blocks due to his poor vision.
Greg immediately crawled (walking haven been forbidden after a particularly nasty trip) over to the Daddy shaped blur sitting on the couch and stared up at him with pleading eyes.
"Please no, Daddy? Please! I hate it here! I hate being your stupid little baby!"
Daddy beant down, wrapped his large hand around Greg's cheek and chin before shoving a pacifier between Greg's lips.
"Hush, pet," Daddy growled softly, his face menacingly close to Greg's, "I've made it very clear who is in charge in this relationship. It seems like you need a reminder."
Daddy then harshly pulled Greg over his lap before proceeding to deliver the worst spanking Greg had ever experienced. At the end of it, the apartment was filled with nothing but the sound of Greg's soft sobs and the crinkling of his diaper, as he thought about the ramifications of daring to question Daddy's judgment.
The next few months passed in a blur. After moving into Daddy's house, Greg found himself wearing his glasses less and less.
Deprived of his ability to see, Greg spent more time forced to participate in infantile activities like playing with blocks or trucks or futilely trying to color in a coloring book instead of reviewing the latest literature in his field like he used to.
Greg's coworkers started to notice how the once brilliant, workaholic man's performance had dropped off. Greg was pulled into his boss' office and lectured on his need to improve, but, Greg, who once prided himself on his career success and independence, found himself unable to improve his performance at work given Daddy's humiliating restrictions at home.
After six-months of living together, Greg's boss had had enough and fired his once best employee.
Sitting in Daddy's lap in nothing but a soggy diaper, Greg cried as he told his tormentor about his lose of a job.
"Daddy," he began softly, hesitant for fear of judgment at what was coming next.
"Yes, pet?" Daddy asked Greg, his ever predatory tone dripping from his every word.
"I was, was, was fired today," Greg chokes out between sobs.
Daddy smiled, although Greg couldn't see it. He rubbed Greg's back possessively.
"Oh, did someone's boss finally realize what a soggy little pants wetter he really is? I can't say I'm surprised, but I am ~very~ excited for what that means. You can finally be my diapered little pet full time!" Daddy said triumphantly.
Greg's sobs redoubled at his sudden understanding of the truth in Daddy's words. He tucked his thumb in his mouth, a soothing habit Daddy had long ago trained in him, and continued to cry in his tormentors arms.
Daddy brushed Greg's hair with his fingers, relishing this moment of absolute victory.
"Daddy is so excited for you to be my soggy little pet forever."
Daddy laughed a little as Greg continued to cry before grabbing a small object that Greg couldn't quite make out off the table.
"I guess you won't be needing these anymore. Maybe we should get them mounted for posterity?"
Greg frowned.
"What, Daddy?"
Daddy responded with a guffaw.
"Your glasses!"
Greg felt his heart drop in sudden realization. Daddy was right. As Daddy's permanent pet, he would probably never wear be allowed to wear glasses again. His world was now fated to forever be a blur.
#ab/dl diaper#ab/dl kink#ab/dl story time#ab/dl couple#ab/dl caption#humiliation kink#diaper regression#diaper stories#dd/lb kink#dd/lb little#DD/lb#the glasses
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Feeding The Fire
Academic Rival Abby X F!Reader
MINORS AND MEN DNI / word count : 8k
SUMMARY: In the elite world of Ravenswood Preparatory Academy, your rivalry with Abby Anderson has always been a blaze of ambition and sharp words. Forced to work together on a high-stakes project, the fire between you begins to shift as late-night study sessions and unguarded moments reveal the vulnerabilities behind Abbyâs perfectionism. When an argument at her house exposes the weight of her relentless drive, sparks ignite into something far more intimate. What starts as a battle for dominance becomes a journey of understandingâand something else as fiery as your rivalry.
WARNINGS: Plot with smut, eating out (r & a receiving), a riding on r's face, swallowing come, fingering (r receiving)
A/N: Since you guys were looking for something like Off The Ice... found this on my google docs, I decided to finish it and post it now. This is kind of in a different format than how i usually write but here it is cuz I think its good! (this was actually written the same time as Off The Ice)
â.ËđŚŕźâÂ
Ravenswood Preparatory Academy wasnât just a schoolâit was a battlefield. Not in the way of physical fights or dramatic standoffs in the cafeteria, but in the quiet, cutthroat war of academics. The halls buzzed with the chatter of straight-A students, all vying for valedictorian, internships, or that one golden-lettered acceptance from the Ivy League. You were no stranger to the competition. In fact, you thrived on it.
But then, there was Abby Anderson.
Where you clawed your way to the top with late-night study sessions and sheer determination, Abby seemed to coast through effortlessly. She was the Abby Andersonâstudent council president, captain of the debate team, and the top of every leaderboard. She didnât just ace her exams; she annihilated the curve, leaving youâand everyone elseâin her wake.
Your rivalry wasnât personal, at least not at first. It was just a fact of life, like the sun rising in the east or Ms. Callahan assigning an absurd amount of reading. But over time, it evolved into something more. A sideways glance during test results. A clipped comment in class discussions. A subtle smirk when one of you outdid the other.
By senior year, the rivalry had become the stuff of legend. Teachers tried to keep their distance, afraid to spark a wildfire between you. The rest of the school watched with bated breath, waiting to see who would claim the top spot once and for all.
And then, Ms. Callahan dropped the bomb.
âYour final project will be done in pairs.â Her voice carried across the room, calm and steady, as if she didnât just upend the lives of her most competitive students.
You barely had time to react before she added the kicker: âAnd the partners⌠have been assigned.â
The tension in the room was palpable. A few students groaned, others exchanged wary glances. You sat frozen, gripping your pen as Ms. Callahan began listing names.
When she got to yours, you heard it before you saw it: the sharp intake of breath, the audible pause.
â...Anderson.â
Your head whipped around, locking eyes with Abby, whose expression mirrored your own disbelief. It wasnât anger or annoyanceânot yet, anyway. Just pure, unfiltered dread.
Ms. Callahanâs voice pulled you back to reality. âI expect great things from the two of you.â
Of course, she did. Of course, she thought pairing the two fiercest rivals in the school was a brilliant idea.
You didnât even hear the rest of the assignments. All you could think was: This is going to be a disaster.
The Aftermath
The bellâs shrill ring echoed through the room, but you remained seated, the words âAndersonâ still ringing in your ears. Your classmates filed out, some throwing you sympathetic glances, others shooting amused smirks.
âGuess itâs just you and me now,â Abby said, stopping at your desk. Her tone was light, but there was an unmistakable edge to her smirkâone that ignited the familiar spark of irritation deep in your chest.
You forced yourself to look up, meeting her gaze. âDonât think for a second that Iâm going to let you take over this project.â
Her smirk widened, like youâd just issued a challenge. âWouldnât dream of it. Besides, Iâm sure Iâll need someone to double-check your work.â
Her words hit like a match to kindling, and you felt the fire flare. You opened your mouth to respond, but she was already walking away, her ponytail swaying with each step.
This wasnât just a project. It was warâor so you thought.
The First Meeting
Monday after school, you found yourself heading to the library with a mix of dread and determination. Abby was already there, seated at a table with her laptop open and a cup of coffee by her side.
âRight on time,â she said, not looking up.
âLetâs skip the small talk,â you said as you sat across from her. âWhatâs your grand plan for making this work?â
She leaned back in her chair, her arms crossing in a way that seemed both casual and calculated. âIâve already outlined a few ideas. You can handle the visualsâIâll take care of the research.â
You snorted. âOf course, you think you get to decide everything.â
Abby tilted her head, her smirk softening into something almost playful. âDo you ever stop arguing?â
âDo you ever stop being insufferable?â you shot back, but there was no real venom in your voice.
For a moment, the fire between you burned differentlyâstill hot, but less about competition and more about the way her eyes lit up when she laughed softly under her breath.
Sparks Beneath the Flames
The first week of working together was a rollercoaster. Arguments about the direction of the project turned into hours-long brainstorming sessions, punctuated by Abbyâs dry humor and your exasperated comebacks.
âYouâre not bad at this,â she admitted one day, her tone grudging but honest.
âWow, Abby Anderson complimented me,â you said, feigning shock. âSomeone mark the date.â
She rolled her eyes but didnât hide her smile. âDonât let it go to your head.â
As the days passed, the rivalry that had defined your relationship began to shift. It wasnât just about outdoing each other anymore. Somewhere in the late nights at the library and the shared coffee runs, you started noticing thingsâlike how she always brought an extra pen because youâd forgotten yours, or how her confident exterior cracked when she doubted an idea.
And then there was the way her hand brushed yours as you both reached for the same book. It was fleeting, but it sent a jolt through youâlike a spark catching on dry wood.
Feeding the Fire
By the second week, the lines between rivalry and something more had blurred. Your arguments had turned into playful banter, and your stolen glances lasted just a little too long.
One evening, as you sat across from Abby in the dimly lit library, you found yourself staring at herânot in frustration, but in curiosity. The way her brow furrowed when she was deep in thought, the way her lips pressed together as she scribbled notes... it was mesmerizing in a way you didnât want to admit.
She looked up suddenly, catching your gaze. For a moment, neither of you spoke. The air between you felt heavy, charged with something new.
âWhat?â she asked, her voice softer than usual.
âNothing,â you said quickly, looking away, but your cheeks burned like an open flame.
And that was the moment you realized the fire between you wasnât just about rivalry anymore. It was something deeperâsomething you werenât sure you were ready for but couldnât stop feeding.
The Vulnerable Truth
You didnât know what to expect when Abby invited you over to her house. The idea of crossing into her personal territory felt... strange, like stepping into the heart of the storm. Her place was just as polished as youâd imaginedâpristine furniture, meticulously arranged decor, and an eerie quietness that seemed at odds with Abby's fiery energy.
âIâll grab us something to drink,â she said, disappearing into the kitchen.
Left alone, you wandered around the living room, your eyes scanning the shelves and walls. Tucked among pristine family portraits and school trophies was a photo of Abby as a little girl. She was holding a medal, grinning wide, her eyes sparkling with pride. Beside her stood a manâher father, judging by the striking resemblance. His hand rested stiffly on her shoulder, his expression as cold and composed as the room itself.
It all clicked.
âFind something interesting?â Abbyâs voice broke the silence, sharp and cutting.
You turned to see her standing in the doorway, her arms crossed and a guarded look on her face.
âI wasnât snooping,â you said quickly, though you couldnât shake the weight of what youâd just realized. âI just⌠saw the photo.â
Her jaw tightened. âCongratulations. Youâve cracked the case.â
âAbby, I didnât meanââ
âDidnât mean what?â she snapped, stepping closer. âDidnât mean to dig into things that arenât your business? To play armchair psychologist?â
You hesitated, then spoke softly. âI just wondered if thatâs why you push yourself so hard. Why you have to be the best.â
Her eyes flared, the fire in them unmistakable. âYou donât know anything about me.â
She turned on her heel and stormed down the hall, disappearing into what you assumed was her room.
For a moment, you stood frozen, unsure whether to follow. But then you heard the muffled thud of something hitting a wall, and your feet moved before your brain could catch up.
The Confrontation
You knocked once on her door, but when there was no response, you pushed it open. Abby was standing by her bed, her back to you, her fists clenched at her sides.
âAbby, Iââ
âWhy are you here?â she interrupted, her voice tremblingânot with anger this time, but something far more vulnerable.
âI just wanted to help,â you said, stepping closer.
She spun around, her eyes blazing. âHelp? You think you can help me? You donât know what itâs like to have someone expect perfection from you every single second of every day.â
Her words hit like a punch, raw and unfiltered. Youâd seen Abby angry before, but this was different. This was Abby exposed, stripped of the armor she always wore so effortlessly.
âYou think I like this? Being the one everyoneâs watching, waiting for me to slip up?â She laughed bitterly. âWell, guess whatâitâs not about being the best. Itâs about not being a disappointment.â
âAbbyâŚâ
Your voice was soft, almost pleading, but she was already pacing, her energy frantic. âDo you know what itâs like to see it in their eyes? The second youâre not good enough? I canâtââ Her voice cracked, and she stopped, her back to you again.
You didnât think. You just moved, closing the space between you. âAbby, look at me.â
She turned slowly, her walls cracking further, and for the first time, you saw the weight she carried. Without thinking, you reached out, your hand brushing hers.
âI donât care if youâre perfect,â you said, your voice steady. âI just care that youâre... you.â
Her breath hitched, and for a moment, the air between you felt electric. She looked at you, her guarded expression softening into something you couldnât quite name.
And then she closed the distance, her lips crashing into yours.
A New Kind of Fire
The kiss was urgent, fueled by all the tension that had built between youâweeks, months, maybe even years of unspoken words and unresolved feelings. Her hands gripped your shirt, pulling you closer, as if afraid to let go.
When you finally pulled back, both of you were breathing hard. Abbyâs forehead rested against yours, her eyes searching yours for somethingâreassurance, understanding, maybe both.
âI hate you,â she whispered, but there was no venom in her voice, only a shaky vulnerability that made your heart ache.
You smiled softly, brushing a strand of hair from her face. âNo, you donât.â
She huffed a laugh, the tension between you easing slightly. âYouâre insufferable.â
âAnd yet, here we are,â you murmured, your thumb grazing her cheek.
For the first time, the fire between you didnât burnâit warmed.
The Fire Between You
The air in Abby's room felt heavier, charged with something that neither of you could deny anymore. The soft hum of the outside world seemed miles away, and all that mattered was the space between you and Abby, the heat that radiated from her touch as she pulled you back in.
Her hands gripped your waist with a desperation that matched the fierce hunger in her kiss, her lips pressing against yours with a sense of urgency, as though she was trying to make up for lost time. The tension from earlierâthe unspoken words, the anger, the vulnerabilityâhad all bled away, replaced by something far more consuming.
You melted into her, your hands finding their way to her shoulders, to her hair, tugging her closer. There was nothing delicate about this kiss. It was messy, raw, a clash of need and emotion. Abbyâs body was warm against yours, her breath shallow as she deepened the kiss, pulling you closer, never letting go.
Her arms wrapped tighter around your waist, her fingers digging into the fabric of your shirt as if she was afraid to lose you in this moment. You could feel her heartbeat, fast and erratic, mirroring your own, and for the first time, it didnât feel like a battle. The competition, the rivalryâit all faded, and what was left was just the two of you, tangled up in each other.
When she finally broke away, both of you were gasping for air, your lips swollen from the intensity of it. Abby's eyes were wild, her pupils blown wide, her chest rising and falling rapidly as she tried to catch her breath.
"God," she whispered, her voice trembling. "I didnât think⌠I didnât think it would be like this."
You could barely form words, your mind racing from everything that just happened. "Neither did I."
But there was no going back now. Not when the fire between you had been lit, not when everything that had once seemed like a fight now felt like something else entirely.
Abby ran her fingers through her hair, her breath shaky. "IâI donât know how to do this," she admitted, her voice laced with hesitation. "Iâve never... with anyone... not like this."
You reached for her hand, squeezing it gently. "You donât have to have all the answers, Abby. I donât either."
She met your gaze, the uncertainty still flickering in her eyes, but something else too. "Are we... are we really doing this?" she asked, her voice quieter now, more vulnerable.
You leaned in, brushing a gentle kiss across her forehead, a silent answer to her question. "Yeah. I think we are."
And as you held her, her body pressed against yours, you both realized that maybe the fire that had always burned between you wasn't meant to destroyâit was meant to light something new. Something neither of you had expected but both of you desperately needed.
The Fire IgnitesÂ
Abbyâs hands slipped underneath your shirt, her touch warm against your skin. A mischievous glint flashed in Abby's eye as her hand slid under your shirt, savoring the feel of your heated skin. She traced her fingertips teasingly along your stomach, feeling them tense under her touch.
Her hands reached around your back, finding the hook of your bra with expert ease. She unhooked it slowly, her eyes locked onto yours, daring you to pull away. As the bra fell open, she slid her hands around to your front, gently pushing the fabric aside to feel your bare skin.
As the bra slipped away, Abby's hands cupped your breasts, her thumbs lightly brushing over your nipples. A soft gasp escaped her lips, feeling them harden beneath her touch. Your body arched instinctively into her hands, craving more contact.
A few moments ago, you had uncovered a vulnerable side of Abby, the reason behind her fierce drive. Now, everything had shiftedâshe was kissing you with a desperate intensity, her hands pulling you closer, touching you in ways you would've never thought would happen between you two, as if she couldnât get enough. The heat between you escalated, your bodies pressed together, skin meeting skin, the air thick with desire.
With deft fingers, Abby started unbuttoning your uniform blouse, her knuckles lightly grazing your skin with each button she undid. Your breath caught in your throat as she pushed the blouse off your shoulders, letting it fall to the floor.
You stood before her in just your skirt and underwear, feeling incredibly exposed and vulnerable. "You look so pretty in your uniform,â
You blushed deeply at the compliment, your heart racing in your chest. Abby reached out and gently traced a finger along the waistband of your skirt, her touch sending shivers down your spine. "I've always loved this uniform on you," she murmured, her voice low and husky.Â
"You do?" Normally, you prided yourself on keeping your cool, always ready with a witty comebackâespecially when it came to Abby. But right now, in this heated moment, your usual confidence slipped away. Your mind felt scrambled, and all you could focus on was the sensation of her close to you, leaving you dizzy and lost in the moment.
âYou're so beautiful," she whispered, her words. Her voice was a breathy whisper, full of longing. She reached out and gently pulled the skirt aside, revealing your matching panties. Abby's eyes lingered on the delicate fabric before looking back up at your face. "So beautifulâÂ
Your cheeks flushed a deeper shade of red, your eyes darting between Abby's face and her hands. You bit your lower lip, your breathing growing faster as she slowly began to trace patterns on your thighs, her touch light and teasing. You squirmed slightly, the anticipation almost too much to bear.
Abby's touch ventured higher, her fingertips brushing against the edge of your underwear. She looked up at you, her blue eyes filled with a fiery intensity. "Can I?" she asked, her voice barely audible. Her fingers hooked into the elastic band of your underwear, waiting for your response.
You nodded almost imperceptibly, your heart pounding in your chest. Abby slowly pulled your underwear down, letting them pool around your ankles. You stepped out of them, feeling completely bare before her. She stood up and gently pushed you onto her bed, kneeling between your legs. "You're so perfect,â
Abby slowly leaned in, pressing her lips to your inner thigh. She kissed and nibbled her way up, her touch gentle yet firm. Your breath hitched, your fingers gripping the bed tightly as anticipation built up inside you. When she finally reached your center, she paused and looked up at you.
With a smoldering gaze fixed upon you, Abby leaned in slowly, her warm breath tickling your most sensitive spot before she finally made contact. A surge of electricity coursed through your body as her tongue found its mark, your hips instinctively lifting off the bed sheets.
Abby wrapped her arms around your thighs to keep you in place, her pace slow and deliberate. She looked up at you again, her eyes filled with desire as she continued to lavish attention on you. Your hands flew to her hair, fingers tangling in the silky strands as your breathing grew heavier.
You couldn't hold back a moan as Abby's tongue danced around your sensitive flesh, sending waves of pleasure through you. Your body shook, your legs trembling as she worked her magic. "Abby, oh god, Abby," you whimpered, your voice strained with pleasure. "I'mâŚâ
Her arms tightened around your thighs as she felt you nearing the edge. She quickened her pace, her touch becoming more insistent. Your back arched off the couch, your fingers gripping her hair tightly as you shattered, your voice echoing through the room as you cried out her name. "Abby!â
Abby continued her attentions as you rode out your high, prolonging your pleasure until you collapsed back onto the bed, your chest heaving. She placed a final kiss on your sensitive flesh before crawling up your body, a satisfied smirk on her face.Â
Still caught in the throes of ecstasy, you could only manage a breathless giggle, your body tingling all over. You reached up, cupping Abby's face in your hands and pulling her into a deep, passionate kiss.
As you kissed her, you gently pushed her back, breaking the kiss. You looked up at her, your eyes shining with desire. "Now it's my turn," you said softly, reaching out to grasp the hem of her shirt. "I want you to strip for me, Abby. Slowly.â
As you broke the kiss, you looked up at Abby and whispered, "Strip for me." Your voice was husky from pleasure, your eyes dark with desire. Abby's smirk grew wider as she stood up, slowly reaching for the hem of her shirt. "With pleasure,â
Abby pulled her shirt up and over her head, revealing her toned midsection and the bra barely containing her beautiful breasts. She tossed the shirt aside, her eyes never leaving yours. Her hands moved to her pants, unbuttoning them teasingly slow.
Abby shimmied out of her jeans, kicking them away as they pooled around her ankles. She stood before you in just her bra and panties, a sultry smile playing on her lips. Reaching behind her back, she unhooked her bra, letting it fall away to reveal her breasts.
âYou look so good AbbyâŚâÂ
Abby's smile grew wider as she heard your praise, her chest rising and falling with each breath. She hooked her thumbs into the waistband of her panties, slowly sliding them down her legs. As she stepped out of them, she kicked them aside, standing before you completely naked.
With a mischievous grin, you patted your chest and said, "Come here, I want a taste." Abby's eyes glinted with amusement as she climbed back onto the couch, straddling your chest.
Abby slowly positioned herself over your face, her thighs on either side of your head. She lowered herself until her most intimate area was hovering just above your mouth. Your hands instinctively went to her hips as she gazed down at you with a look of pure lust. "Go aheadâ
You eagerly buried your face between her thighs, your arms wrapping around her thighs to pull her closer. Your tongue explored her soft, wet folds, tasting her sweet nectar. Abby let out a low moan, her head falling back as she grinded against your face. "That's itâŚâÂ
In that moment, all you wanted was to make her feel goodâwanted to be the one to lift her up, even if only for a while. As Abby was on top of you, every thought, every worry, faded away. You werenât thinking about rivalry or perfection anymore. It was just about herâabout giving her something real, something she might not have allowed herself to feel in a long time.
Abby's hands gripped the sheets as you worked your magic with your tongue. Her hips undulated in a sensual rhythm, riding your face with increasing urgency. Soft gasps and moans spilled from her lips, her eyes fluttering closed in bliss. "Don't stopâŚâÂ
Your dedication to pleasing her was unwavering, and it showed in the way you devoured her pussy. You sucked and licked with reckless abandon, your fingers digging into her thighs as you held her in place. Abby's legs began to shake, her body tensing as she approached her climax.
With a loud cry, Abby's orgasm hit her like a tidal wave. Her back arched, and she ground her pussy against your face, fucking your mouth with wild abandon. Her juices poured into your mouth, and you drank it all in, not stopping until she collapsed forward, her chest heaving.
Abby turned around and reversed her position on you, She shifted, moving to kneel between your spread legs. Her fingers trailed teasingly up your inner thigh before she suddenly plunged two digits deep into your aching core without warning. "You want this?"
You gasped, your hips bucking forward as Abby's fingers filled you. The sudden, intense sensation was both welcome and overwhelming. Your hands gripped the couch cushions, knuckles turning white as you braced yourself. "Yes... please, Abby," you panted, your voice barely a whisper.
Abby grinned mischievously, her eyes locked onto yours as she slowly began to move her hand. Her fingers curved upward, expertly finding that spot inside you that made your vision blur. Your breathing quickened, becoming shallow pants as she steadily increased the pace. "Abby... it'sâŚâ
Your words were cut off by a sharp cry as Abby added a third finger, stretching you deliciously. She could feel your walls fluttering around her digits, knowing you were close. "That's it, baby," she cooed, her thumb finding your clit and rubbing firm circles.
You thrashed your head back and forth, your mouth open in a silent 'O' as Abby's fingers worked you into a fever pitch. Your fingers tangled in her hair, pulling hard as your hips lifted off the couch, meeting her thrusts. "Abby... I'm... I'mâŚâ
Abby's eyes darkened with triumph as she felt your body tense, your orgasm imminent. She leaned in close, her breath hot against your ear. "Let go. Come for me," she commanded, her fingers plundering your soaked depths with increased fervor.
Your back arched sharply as your climax hit you like a tidal wave. You cried out Abby's name, your voice echoing through the room as your inner muscles clenched rhythmically around her fingers. Abby held you through it, prolonging your pleasure until you collapsed back against the cushions, spent and trembling.
Abby's expression softened as she looked down at you, cuddled against her chest. She stroked your hair gently, her voice tender. "That was⌠You were-" she murmured.
Abby chuckled softly, her fingers trailing down your back. âIncredible. You're incredible.â She pressed a kiss to your forehead.Â
Then, the air shiftedâsuddenly, she grew quiet, her expression turning serious. She held you close, but there was a tension in her grip now, as if she was reminding herself of everything she had tried to guard against. She remembered what had brought you both to this moment, and it hit her all over againâthis couldnât be a sign of weakness, of letting her walls down completely. She didnât want you to see the side of her that she had fought so hard to keep hidden, especially now that you knew why her drive for perfection had always been so intense.
Her fingers tightened around you, but the tension in her grip was clearâshe was holding on, but not entirely letting go. Abbyâs gaze flickered to yours, then quickly darted away, like she was trying to avoid something she wasnât ready to face.
âI donât... do this,â she murmured, her voice unsteady, the words almost lost in the quiet. âI donât let people in.â
There was a sharpness in her tone, something defensive, reminding you that this wasnât the Abby youâd come to knowâthe confident, determined girl who had always kept a distance. This was someone else, someone raw, someone afraid of being vulnerable.
âIâm not asking you to change,â you said softly, your hand brushing her arm. âIâm not asking you to let your guard down completely.â
Abby looked away again, her breath catching slightly as she shifted, pulling back just enough to create space between you. "You should go," she said, her voice suddenly more distant, the walls rising again. "This... doesn't change anything. You were right about meâabout everything. It doesnât just vanish."
You could feel the shift, the sudden return to the distance sheâd always kept. Her walls were back up, thick and impenetrable.
"You donât have to keep pretending with me," you said, your words barely more than a whisper, but they seemed to hit her harder than you intended.
She stiffened, her jaw tightening. "Iâm not pretending," she snapped, her voice sharp. "This is just... itâs not normal for me. Iâm not... like you. I canât just... I canât just let go. Thereâs always something to prove. To everyone."
Her words cut deeper than you expected. You knew she was driven, had always been, but hearing her admit it so plainlyâhow much sheâd built her life around that need for controlâmade you realize how much harder it was for her to let someone in.
"Iâm not asking you to," you said quietly, your voice steady. "Iâm just here. Iâm not going anywhere."
She met your gaze again, but this time there was something different in her eyesâhesitation, doubt, maybe even a little fear. But it was gone as quickly as it had come, replaced by the same guarded expression she always wore.
"Donât say that," she said, almost pleading. "Donât act like Iâm some... I donât need someone waiting around for me. I donât need anyone thinking they can fix me."
The words stung, but you knew they werenât meant to hurt. She was trying to push you away, but this time, it felt different. Her voice, though sharp, wasnât as certain as it usually was. You could see the cracks, but she wasnât ready to let them show yet.
"Iâm not here to fix you," you said, your voice quiet but firm. "Iâm just here. And if you want me to go, Iâll go. But Iâm not going to pretend like this didnât happen."
Her eyes softened for just a moment, but before you could say anything else, she turned away, pulling the blanket around her tightly. "Please. Just go."
You hesitated, but nodded, the weight of the unspoken things between you heavier than the room around you. Without another word, you left, knowing that whatever had happened wasnât overânot yet. And whether she would admit it or not, neither of you were the same as you were before.
Quiet Before the Storm
The next day, the library felt heavier than usual. There was a thickness in the air that you couldnât quite shake, as if everything from the night before had followed you here. You'd barely seen Abby throughout the day. When you did, she seemed like she was in a different world, not meeting your gaze, not acknowledging you like she usually did.
You both had agreed to meet in the library to finish up the project, which was nearly done, but somehow it felt impossible to focus now. You were both supposed to be competitive, to push each other to be the best, to always come out on top. That was the deal. But now, after everything that had happened, things were differentâthis wasnât just about grades or outshining each other anymore. It was something deeper, something much worse. There were feelings tangled up in it now, things that neither of you knew how to navigate.
You arrived early, trying to settle your nerves as you stared at the empty table. The clock on the wall ticked in time with the erratic beat of your heart. When Abby finally entered, you felt her presence before you saw her. She was just as you rememberedâindifferent, guardedâbut this time, there was something else in her eyes. A flicker of something unspoken, something that made you pause.
She didnât acknowledge you, not in the way she usually did. Instead, she just walked past, set her things on the table, and sat down, almost mechanically. The usual fire in her eyes was gone, replaced by a quiet, almost unsettling calm.
"Letâs just finish this," she said, her voice devoid of the usual sharpness, flat and cold.
You nodded, but as the minutes passed, you realized this wasnât the same. You werenât just competing to finish a project anymore. This felt like a competition of something deeper, darkerâsomething that neither of you had signed up for. The connection, the tension, everything that had happened between you both, was still hanging there in the space between you. It was worse than before, because now it wasnât just academic pride or the need to be the best at school. This was about something more fragile, more vulnerable.
The silence between you both grew, and with it, the understanding that something had irrevocably changed. You both could feel it, but neither of you dared to address it. Instead, you kept working, but every movement felt heavier, as if the weight of your own thoughts and the lingering tension between you was suffocating you both.
It wasnât just about competing for grades anymore. It wasnât about who could be the smartest, the most driven, or the best in class. Thisâthis was something worse. It was about what happened when all those walls you built around your pride and your achievements crumbled, and what you were left with was something real, something raw, something neither of you were prepared for.
You didnât know if this was the end or the beginning of something far more complicated. But you did know one thing: it wasnât going to be easy.
Something Beneath The Surface
The day of the presentation arrived, and despite the lingering tension between you and Abby, you both found yourselves sitting next to each other in class, preparing for what was supposed to be the grand finale of weeks of hard work. The project that had brought you together was almost complete. Almost. The day felt like it was going to be just another dayâuntil it wasnât.
Before the bell rang, there had been a quiet unease between you two. Abby had barely looked at you since you both walked in, her eyes focused on the project folder in front of her as she nervously fidgeted with a pen. The usual competitive spark in her eyes had dimmed, and she seemed distantâlike she was holding herself back. You couldnât help but notice the way her fingers tightened around the edges of the paper as if trying to keep herself from unraveling.
You sat quietly, your mind running through the final details of the presentation, but no amount of preparation could silence the knot in your stomach. You knew you couldnât hide what had happened between you both, but now, in front of the entire class, everything was different. You werenât just presenting to finish a project anymore. You were presenting as something elseâsomething uncertain, tangled between unspoken feelings and unfinished business.
When the class started, you were called to go up first, and the usual nervousness was replaced by a tension that had nothing to do with the project. Abby stood beside you, her expression unreadable. You started presenting your section, your voice steady, but each word felt like it carried more weight than it should have. The class was watching, but it wasnât the eyes of your classmates that made you feel exposedâit was Abbyâs. She stood there next to you, speaking in her usual calm, collected tone, but her gaze never once met yours. She was speaking as if she were still trying to maintain control, as if this whole thing was just another task to cross off her list.
When it was over, the class clapped politely, but you barely heard them. All you could focus on was the space between you and Abby, the silence that lingered like an elephant in the room. You turned to her, hoping for somethingâsome acknowledgment that you hadnât just been two strangers presenting a project, but two people who had shared something much deeper.
She nodded stiffly, her eyes still avoiding yours. âGood job,â she muttered, but the words felt distant, like they werenât meant for you at all.'
The bell rang, signaling the end of the class, and Abby didnât wait a second longer. She gathered her things quickly, her movements sharp, like she was trying to escape something. Before you could say anything, she was out the door, leaving you standing there, unsure of what had just happened.
The rest of the class seemed to blur as you walked out, your thoughts racing, not about the project or the presentation, but about Abby. It wasnât just the project that mattered anymoreâit was the looming presence of Ivy Week, just around the corner. Everyone was preparing, everyone was talking about it. It was more than just a weekâit was the culmination of years of hard work, of everything that mattered to Abby. And you? You were caught between that and everything that had happened between you two.
You stood there, thinking of what to do next. Should you follow her? Talk to her? Or should you focus on Ivy Week like everyone else and just let everything go?
But even as the question lingered, the anticipation of Ivy Week hung heavy. You could almost hear the voices of your classmates, already strategizing, preparing for what would comeâthe pressure, the competition, the stakes. Abby, as driven as she was, wouldnât let this chance slip away, and neither would you. But with everything that had happened between you two, it felt like the real challenge wasnât the Ivy Week itselfâit was figuring out how to move forward when you both seemed to be walking on different paths, yet so undeniably intertwined.
Tipping Point
Ivy Week had arrived in full force, and with it came the heavy anticipation that hung over every conversation, every glance. You could feel it in the airâthe competition, the tension, the pressure that had been building for months. It was everything everyone had been working for, and now, it was all coming to a head.
You barely had a chance to catch your breath before the news broke. Abby was in the hallway, talking to a group of friends when you overheard her nameâyour stomach dropped as you realized what they were saying. Abby had been accepted into Harvard. Of course, she had. She had everything it tookâthe perfect grades, the relentless drive, the ambition. It was all there, like a sign that her efforts had paid off. You felt a small sense of relief; you'd heard about your own acceptance into the Ivy League, and even though you had been so focused on the future, part of you had been dreading what it would mean for your relationship with Abby. You knew it had to come sooner or laterâthe fact that you were both destined for the same future.
As the day dragged on, it was clear that the excitement surrounding Abbyâs acceptance was only making everything more complicated. The halls buzzed with congratulations, but to you, it felt almost suffocating. Youâd worked just as hardâmaybe even harderâto get to this point. But something about Abby's success, the way she held herself with that quiet, smug pride, made you feel like there was more to it than just academic rivalry.
The day ended, but the weight of the news was still hanging between you two, pulling at your every interaction. You couldnât avoid Abby for long, and as the evening wore on, she showed up at your dorm room, her face unreadable.
âCongratulations,â she said quietly, her voice softer than usual. She hadnât come to celebrate, not like youâd expected. Instead, there was an emptiness in her words.
âThanks. Same to you,â you said, trying to keep your voice steady. You didnât know what to say. There was so much tension between you two that you couldnât even look at her without feeling like you were both trying to hold onto something that was slipping through your fingers.
âI wasnât expecting it,â she said, a small, almost sad smile flickering on her lips. âBut I guess... I guess it was inevitable, huh?â
You could tell she was trying to joke, but the bitterness in her voice was hard to ignore. You stood up, not sure if you wanted to get closer or push her away. "It doesn't feel like a win. Not yet," you said, your voice quiet, unsure if you were talking about Harvard, or about everything between you and her. "You were always going to get in. You always do."
Abby tilted her head, studying you carefully. âAnd you?â she asked, her tone suddenly more serious. âYou think Iâve got it all figured out, donât you? That this is the end of it for me? Getting into Harvard? Itâs all just part of the plan, right?â
You were taken aback by the question. You didnât know what to say. âItâs not just about that, Abby. Weâve been⌠weâve been competing for so long, it feels like this whole thing was a game.â
She laughed, a small, dry sound that didnât reach her eyes. âMaybe it was. But I donât know if I know how to stop. Even now, even after everything thatâs happened between us.â
The words hung in the air between you, thick with meaning. You could feel the tension crackling. âYou donât have to keep proving anything to me, Abby,â you said, voice wavering slightly. âYouâve already done more than enough.â
Her expression softened, but only for a second, before she seemed to close off again. "I don't know how to not keep proving it," she said quietly. "Iâve spent my entire life doing thisâfocusing on my goals, on everything being perfect. Itâs who I am. And maybe, in some twisted way, I wanted you to be a part of that too. But Iâm afraid, if I stop now, I might lose everything."
You stepped closer, your heart pounding in your chest. âYou wonât lose anything,â you whispered, reaching out to touch her arm. "Not if you let yourself live a little. Let yourself have something outside of all this. Something that isnât about competing. Something real."
Abby met your gaze, her eyes flickering with a mixture of confusion and fear, but also something elseâsomething deeper, something raw. She stepped back, shaking her head. "I don't know if I can," she murmured, voice shaky. "Not after all this time. Not after everything Iâve sacrificed.â
The words stung, but you knew she was still in the process of understanding everything that had happened between you two.
"I get it," you said softly, trying to mask the hurt. "But maybe itâs time to stop pretending everythingâs about winning. Or maybe you just donât want to let go of the fight weâve been having. Either way, weâve been running from this for too long."
Abby didnât answer right away, but the way she avoided looking you in the eyes told you everything you needed to know.
And as the night fell silent, the weight of Ivy Week, the pressure of the competition, and the uncertainty of your future together loomed over both of you. The storm wasnât over, but it felt like you were both too exhausted to fight it anymore.
In the silence, all you could hear was your own heart beating, wondering what would come next.
After the Storm
It had been a few days since the tension had shifted between you and Abby, and though things had slowly started to feel lighter between you both, there was still a quiet sort of distance. You hadn't heard from her much after your last conversation, and while you didnât mind the space, a part of you couldnât help but wonder what was going on inside her head.
Thatâs when the knock on your door came.
You werenât expecting anyone, especially not Abby, so when you opened the door to find her standing there, looking slightly apprehensive, you blinked in surprise. She was dressed in her usual cool, effortless wayâjeans, a hoodie, and her sneakers, her hair pulled back into a messy ponytail. But her eyes, the ones you had come to know so well, were different this time. Soft. Vulnerable, even.
"Hey," Abby said, her voice a little rough. "Can I come in?"
You stepped aside, heart pounding for reasons you couldn't quite explain. "Of course."
She hesitated for a moment before walking in, her steps slow as she looked around your living room like she was unsure of how to act. The quietness between you two was palpable, but there was something in her expression that told you she was here to say something important.
You offered her a seat on the couch, and she took it without a word. You sat down across from her, crossing your legs, unsure of how to begin.
"So," you said, trying to keep your voice casual. "Whatâs up? What brings you here?"
Abby ran a hand through her hair, a nervous habit you had come to recognize. She seemed almost distant for a second, like she was debating whether or not she should say what was on her mind. Finally, she sighed.
"Iâve been thinking a lot lately⌠about everything," she started, her eyes meeting yours with an intensity that caught you off guard. "About the competition, about how everything was always about being the best. About how much I pushed everyone away, including you."
You blinked, taken aback by her honesty. Abby had never been the type to open up about her feelings so easily, especially not with someone she had been so competitive with.
"I get it," you said softly. "You were just doing what you thought you had to do. It wasnât about me or anyone else, it was about you trying to be perfect in your own way."
Her eyes softened at your words, and for a moment, you both just sat in silence. The weight of everything that had happenedâthe arguments, the distance, the unspoken feelingsâseemed to hang in the air between you, but there was something different now. Something that felt like the storm had passed, even if the aftermath was still lingering.
"I donât want to keep pretending like I have everything figured out," Abby admitted, her voice trembling slightly. "I donât want to keep pushing you away. You⌠you mean more to me than Iâve let myself admit. Iâm just scared. I donât want to mess this up."
You could feel your heart flutter in your chest. She wasnât the same Abby who had always been so focused on her grades, her goals, her need to win. This was a new Abbyâa more open, vulnerable version of herself that sheâd kept hidden for so long.
But then, there was the hesitation, the quiet fear that lingered behind her words. "And my parents..." she trailed off, looking away. "Theyâve always had these expectations for meâabout what I should do, who I should be. They push me so hard, and I always felt like I had to be perfect for them. I didnât want them to see you as⌠a distraction. I didnât want them to think you were just some mistake. I didnât want to disappoint them."
You listened, your heart sinking as you understood what had been holding her back. The weight of her parentsâ expectations had been another chain keeping her from fully embracing what she wantedâwhat she needed.
You gently reached out, placing a hand on hers, feeling the coolness of her skin as she glanced back at you. "Abby, you donât have to be perfect for them. Youâre allowed to make your own choices. You deserve to be happy, and you deserve to have someone who sees you, not just the version they want you to be."
Abby met your gaze, and you saw something shift in her eyesâsomething lighter, like a part of her was letting go of the weight sheâd carried for so long. "I know," she whispered, her voice quiet but firm. "And for the first time, I donât care anymore. I donât care if they disapprove of me being with you. Iâm tired of living my life for them. I want to live for me."
The relief in her voice was palpable, and you couldnât help but smile, your chest swelling with affection for her. You had always seen Abby as someone strong, driven by the need to be the best, but now you saw her in a different lightâvulnerable, human, real.
She leaned in then, her hands cupping your face as she kissed you softly, her lips warm and tender against yours. It wasnât just a kissâit was a promise, an unspoken vow between the two of you that no matter what happened, you were both going to be okay.
When she pulled away, her forehead rested against yours, and you could feel her breathing even out, the tension from before finally dissolving.
"I donât want to be scared anymore," she said quietly, a small smile tugging at the corner of her lips. "I want to see where this goes. I want us to figure it out together, no more fear, no more pressure."
You nodded, your heart full of hope. "We will," you said, voice soft and sure. "Together."
And in that moment, everything felt right. The storm had passed, and what was left in its wake was a new beginningâa chance for both of you to be yourselves, without the weight of the past, without the fear of judgment. You didnât need to be perfect. You just needed each other.
Together.
#abby anderson#abby anderson tlou2#abby x reader#abby tlou#abby the last of us#abby x fem!reader#the last of us 2#lesbian#tlou#tlou2#abby anderson x reader#abby anderson x female reader#fan fic#fan fiction#the last of us part 2#tlou fanfiction
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Hi Sarah! Hope you are well! I will be in Japan on January 15th, so i can't lose the incredibile opportunity to go to the concert. I waited for the general lottery hoping that it would be aviable on the international e+ stite, but unfortunatley it seems it is not the case.
I tryed with sos japan but they are not answering me, and with bridge but they told me they are full or requests and so can't help me.
I would appreciate it very much if you can suggest me something to get these tickets. Thank you!
Hello there!
I am so sorry for the late reply. You sent this while I was travelling last week so I didn't notice the new message in my inbox. I am happy to hear that you will be in Japan next January. Of course you'd want to use that opportunity to attend the Kalafina, I totally understand.
However, I am afraid we are already at a point where it's pretty tricky to get tickets.
Ticket sales are scheduled for the following dates: â Wakana/KEIKO Fan Club Advanced Lottery October 10, 2024, 11:00 - October 20, 23:59 â Hikaru X (formerly Twitter) Advanced Lottery October 25, 11:00 - November 4, 23:59 â General Ticket Lottery November 9, 11:00 - November 11, 23:59 â General Sale November 16, 10:00 -
We have gone through all the ticketing stages and it appears like there are no more tickets left on the e+ general sale. This is actually quite surprising since I didn't expect the concert to be sold out so quickly. The venue is huge and judging from everyone's dismissive reactions on Twitter, I had assumed that not many people were actually planning to attend. Guess the mood on Twitter didn't reflect the high demand of the general public.
From what I could tell, almost everyone who applied for the Wakana/KEIKO fan club ticket lotteries won a ticket so they must have had a lot of tickets available for those. A majority of all fan club members seems to have made use of that preliminary lottery because for the subsequent Hikaru lottery, there were quite a few people who didn't manage to win a ticket. The same applies to the general lottery. I saw several tweets of people being sad that they didn't win anything during that. Unfortunately, the general lottery period was very short so it would have been necessary to contact SOSJapan or a similar service very early in advance to figure out what you needed.
The general sale was over super quickly too so there are currently no official options available.
They might have plans to offer some left-over tickets on the overseas e+ site but they haven't announced anything yet in that regard. Knowing Space Craft, they will totally ignore Kalafina's overseas fanbase so I wouldn't count on that....
I know that a lot of tickets were bought by shady resellers who are now offering them for crazy prices on some random sites but for one, that's illegal so I wouldn't recommend going down that route and two, it would be a real hassle for a foreigner to even get their hands on one of those resold tickets so meh, not the best idea.
Your best bet right now is to ask around in fandom spaces and see if anyone got spare tickets. The good news is that many people applied for more than one ticket (myself included). The bad news is that most of those people will already have found someone to give their extra tickets to (myself included).
I will ask here on this blog and see if anyone can offer a spare ticket to you. If there's no one, you will have to ask around on other sites. You should probably check out the cantaperme forum or a number of different Kalafina Facebook communities and a post on Twitter can't hurt either (although you'll have to tag everything properly so the post reaches a good amount of people).
ăRequestă Kalafina Anniversary Ticket
Does anyone still have a spare ticket for the upcoming Kalafina Anniversary Live? If you do, please contact me or @red------moon directly. Thank you!
ăUpdateă Spare Ticket Found
Great news! @hadi-sama has some spare tickets and is offering them to fellow loyal fans who are still in need of one. Thank you so much for your swift reply! @red------moon, please be sure to contact either me or him ASAP to figure out all the details. Thank you!
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Ok this has been sitting in my drafts for a minute but since nobody asked for it, hereâs my full Nicky headcannon. It leads into an insane MCU witch movie with Agatha, Wanda, Rio, Billy, Tommy (?), maybe Jen and even Alice. All the witches! I got yall.
So, Nicky Scratch. That boy is Agatha and Rioâs but most prominently he is Deathâs Son, right. A demigod something or other, an entity, Something Else. Not really human/mortal, but certainly not dead either. Heâs in the same class of whatever Rio is. Rio knows this from day one. Agatha does not.
That means two main things: Nicky isnât really âdead,â (he wasnât even supposed to be âlivingâ) and that kid should have hella powers. We should have seen some indication of that imo in the show but I can explain it away easily enough in a minute. Either way, under the surface he should have scary magic along the lines of Billy if not far more powerful.
Except while Billy has essentially Wandaâs magic, creator magic, Nickyâs is much, much darker. You know, something fitting of a child of Death.
Letâs say Nicky has Black Magic. đ havenât seen that one on the color wheel of magic colors yet amirite. (Except the Darkhold I suppose, which is an interesting connection potentially.) Or maybe it's like Dark Magic, as in literal darkness. Darkling style. Maybe it's somehow a dark/light binary, like how Rio is technically a death/life binary. Idk I'm working on it, but you get the idea. He's on another level, something adjacent to Rio but not quite the same.
His magic is so strong, corrosive, not evil necessarily but heavy and consuming, that it was killing his mortal body from the beginning.
Thatâs why he was never meant to live in the first place â like Rio he is Another Being, his magic is Something Else. Itâs too much for a human little boy. He needed to join her to really âliveâ and have any hope of control over his magic.
His powers also make him a massive target for who knows what demons and underworld beings. ⌠you see where this could go.
So in this version, letâs say Rio has a much deeper connection to Nicky on a magical level. She can tell when his magic is about to manifest in the world of the living and takes him right before that happens, otherwise both him and Agatha will be in danger. Perhaps she even tells Nicky whatâs happening, and he can feel it coming too, which also accounts for why he goes with her so willingly, to protect his mama from his own power. Kind of a lot for a six-year-old to understand but again, heâs Special.
Maybe Rioâs even been keeping the monsters off Nicky and Agathaâs trail while Nicky was human. Tbh it was a miracle she managed it for six years alongside her other responsibilities. She never told Agatha a) because she didnât want her being more afraid than she already was, b) because would it have really made any difference, Agatha would hate her either way and c) For The Drama.
When Rio takes Nicky, maybe she stashes him in some kind of purgatory space. Pocket dimension? Idk we have no idea what she has access to but letâs say she hides him away somewhere so that she can teach him to use his magic and keep him away from the demons. This is where I would pull in Alice if possible, after we see Rio take her into the smoke in ep 8 Rio makes her an offer to help her protect Nicky in purgatory for a while, because his powers are only getting stronger and she's starting to get worried something's going to happen. Yes, diverting a soul like that is wildly against the rules. She does it anyway for her son.
All of this of course makes Agathaâs hatred for Rio that much worse, because Nicky is still âaliveâ in a sense and Rio is doing everything she can to protect him and raise him and help him control his magic. She canât tell Agatha any of this because anyone else who knows about Nicky is a liability. Again, she really shouldnât have even let him live with Agatha in the first place, it was a massive risk to everyone involved. But she did, and Agatha has no idea what a gift that was, for her and for Nicky.
All of that said, this would set us up for some CRaZy MCU witch/underworld stuff. So hereâs the rough outline of my movie: letâs say the demons finally find Nicky wherever Rio has him hidden and take him to the underworld, Mephisto, blah blah whatever. Iâm not worried about the motive at this point. Age Nicky up to Billyâs age roughly so he can be a real character. Btw, in my head Nicky is still the sweetest bean, total opposite to either of his mothers, too good for this world, cursed with this insane power he doesnât know what to do with. Obviously, we have some opportunity to develop him from there.
Anyway, once she finds out heâs gone, Rio is forced to tell Agatha the truth. Thereâs no one else she can trust to get Nicky back. (Iâm imagining a juicy confrontation between the two of them where we just let Kathryn and Aubrey cook with the exposition.) Rio canât go to the underworld herself for some reason, because of The Cosmic Rules, and the Jac Schaeffer rules of Rio canât hang around on screen for too long (which I like, actually).
Rio only deals with the mortal plane and directing souls to whatever comes next. So it has to be Agatha who rescues him, but as a ghost sheâs stuck on the mortal plane too. So now we gotta âbring her back to life,â because I need real life Kathryn Hahn in this full movie not as a ghost, you feel me. And she has to be able to use her magic. So we gotta manifest a new body around her ghost form. At first they think Billy can do it, but even heâs not that powerful, not to mention still relatively untrained.
⌠Do you see the vision yet?
Thereâs only one witch, who may or may not be dead, who can manifest Agatha Harkness back into a living breathing body. And Agatha HATES it with every fiber of her noncorporeal being, but she needs the Scarlet Witch to make her mortal again, so that she can go to the underworld and save her son. Of course, chaos and shenanigans ensue, and Wanda and the boys end up going with her.
Iâm calling the movie â Agatha Harkness and the Scarlet Witch. Itâs a team up babyyyy! Itâs about women and power, Wanda and Agatha being two sides of the same coin, mothers and their sons, rewriting your story, reuniting and letting go, etc etc etc. Yes I have entire scenes already written in my head, no Iâll never actually write the fic or the screenplay, if somebody wants to run with this please let me know and Iâll give you what I got.
The point is, the story potential on Nicky is insane to be The One Who Brings Everyone Else Together and I really hope they donât just throw it away.
#Agatha all along#nicky scratch#Nicky#nicholas scratch#Agatha harkness#Wanda maximoff#billy maximoff#Tommy maximoff#Rio Vidal#lady death#AgathaRio#Agatha x Rio#MCU witches#mcu#mcu fandom#marvel mcu#mcu witch movie#scarlet witch movie#the scarlet witch#marvel#headcannon#meta
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Heart Killers time, woot woot!
I do have to say, watching what's happening with Jack & Joker right now, I hope people are not letting their expectations get ahead of them with this one either... though I know that's probably a futile wish. Expectation is such a thief of joy, y'all.
Anyway, my only expectation in this is I will have a good time, so let's do it!
How this man doesn't just expire from Bison doing this to him, I have no idea.
Oh, this line. Jojo knows us so well.
Ooh, we're having a black vs red debate!
In Bison's defense, he looks really good in red.
Something cracks me up about Kant looking for hookups at the bowling alley. Is that really good hunting ground? Maybe in Thailand? Definitely not in the U.S.
Oh Jojo, you bad, bad man.
I am gonna get full on obsessed with Dunk's tummy, aren't I?
Also just realizing how much of this show I am going to spend thinking how good the pairings of FirstDunk & JoongKhaotung could be...
Lolol, target acquired!
Ha, this is so me when a man tries to tell me what to do.
I like Bison being all "if you wanna fuck me, just say so". We have a very direct man here.
Nooooo, Style don't be a stupid driver.
I was not expecting an early Fadel/Style meetup! See, it's fate.
Way to make a horrible first impression Style! But I am loving how their dynamics are. Fadel is such a tight ass, it's gonna be great when he cracks.
Quite a first time scene for our boys! And people say GMMTV is gonna tamp down the gay, lololol.
Also can we take a moment to admire this shot? The red, the mirrors, there's a lot going on here. Beautiful.
I like that the burger uniforms are a mix of Fadel & Bison colorwise.
I also think it's hilarious that Fadel ordered black plastic gloves to maintain his aesthetic.
Omg, I am dying that Bison shot a gun at karaoke. He's a little disaster.
Hmmmm, mother? Interesting...
Ooh, silver fox alert!
Always appreciate some eye candy for us older fans.
Ah, of course the cop is a manipulative jerk. Hot, but a jerk.
Ain't this just a mood.
Heh, when the man you just had mind-blowing sex with turns out to be an assassin you have to stalk. If I had a nickel...
Oh, I think Style is gonna be my favorite. Dumb and chaotic.
As much as I enjoy a height difference couple, there is something about two men who are the exact same height...
Also love the black & white - because they are opposites!
Wait...does Bison not know how to cook burgers? Did... did he just put the raw patty on the board they use to chop veggies? Am I going to get stressed about food safety in this action romcom?!
I like that Fadel has this subtle air of general menace about him.
Aaaaah, bashful Bison is so cute!!!!! "Take me out...nooooo...really?"
This boy desperately wants to be loved. My heart.
Style is a slutty menace and I love him!
I also love that they are establishing the attraction is there before the deal gets made.
Ah, I was wondering if Kant was a philosophical reference!
Does Jojo have a "First eating burgers" fetish? That's been two extreme closeups in one episode. Just sayin'.
"Crazy and bold" is pretty spot on for Style!
Oh don't try to complain Style, you know you want him.
Ok, the yellow & purple... Are these their real colors, or the ones hiding their real colors as they embark on their mission?
Another costuming note - both Kant & Style had sunglasses as part of their outfits when they started their lying... love that little detail.
Good lord, that many beers and I'd be peeing every two minutes.
Oh! Fadel figuring out they're friends already! What a twist!
This was so much fun!
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So multiple things inspired me to write this little angsty Flower Husbands drabble: their interactions in this season, the scene on bread bridge in Limited Life (and how Jimmy seems to be okay to ask Scott for lives as if they're nothing,) and also in general how I am noticing how their dynamic is more antagonistic and violent now (similarly how Joel and Scott are usually.)
Also, Jimmy not knowing who was Scott's soulmate when he was doing the Life Series quiz made me think that it would be cool to include here!
(if you know my last Scott post you'll probably understand why this thing exists- PGFJGHF.)
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A Deal with heartbreak
Session 6 started with a bang, multiple people dying because of the sudden appearance of the wildcard from today, Jimmy being one of them, making him be a red life now.
Scott walks near the cherry wood stairs of the Bamboozlers and looks around to check on them to see if they found out something new about the wildcard.
âHello? Anyone here?â Scott calls out until he notices Jimmy coming down the mountain. He seems to be wearing the clothes he did last session, but this time theyâre different colors.
Jimmy waves at Scott and approaches him rapidly.
âHey.â
âHey!â Scott smiles warmly. Sure, Jimmy is red but he wouldnât attack him out of the blue, even though last sessions he kind of did, but Scott hopes he wonât now.
âDude this wildcard is crazy! I canât believe I died so quickly! I mean, at least I wasnât the only one.â
âYou have to be more careful Jimmy, Mumbo died last session so you might follow himâŚâ
Jimmy sighs and crosses his arms shaking his head.
âYeah, youâre still a green man, I don't know how you do it!â As Jimmy says that he gets an idea.
Scott shrugs at that. He just goes under peopleâs radars, though he is also good at the games, but better than Gem and Joel? Probably not.
âScott man, I really need a life⌠Now that I am red is more urgent than yesterday! Please can I kill you?â Jimmy puts his two hands together and tries to make the best puppy eyes.
Scott chuckles at his request, and for a moment he considers it.
âUhm, sorry Jimmy, I really donât want to lose a life now. I gave one to Pearl yesterday so-â He gets interrupted as Jimmy gets closer to Scott, making him visibly more nervous.
âOh! You gave her a life so she wouldnât be red right? This is the same situation! Please man!âÂ
âBut thatâs different Jimmy! Sheâs my teammate and I also promised her that if she turns red she could kill me!â
With that said Scott thinks this is over but he then sees how Jimmy is suddenly holding a sword.
âHow is that different? What about me asking you yesterday? Also! Our teams are kind of allies right? Donât you think itâs a good idea to help your ally?â Jimmy waves his sword around, making Scott be very vigilant of the situation heâs in.
âI understand that, but Pearl, Impulse and Cleo are the first people I allied with this season! Of course I am going to prioritize them! Plus if weâre like this then Pearl was my soulmate a couple of seasons back so!â Scott says that without thinking, realizing suddenly why this moment seemed familiar.Â
He, for a moment sees a black leather jacket and a long bridge extending on both of their sides.
Jimmy furrows his eyebrows in confusion and anger saying: âWhat? Okay and? Also your soulmate wasnât it Cleo?â
Scott finds himself dumbfounded. He steps back and sees Jimmy closing the distance, and as he does that Jimmy accidentally steps on a poppy when he swings his sword at Scott.
In that moment, something in Scott gets broken. His stomach feels like it's turning and his hands buckle into fists. A sword appears into Scottâs hand and he swings it to block the blow; he then redirects his sword near Jimmyâs neck.
âIâll give you 30 seconds Jimmy, to get out of my sight before I kill you for good.â Scott looks coldly at Jimmy, his eyes beginning to glow, but not only that, multiple more seem to appear and open on his neck and arm, glowing alike.
Jimmyâs sword disappears into his inventory and he huffs as he turns around and walks up the stairs of his teamâs mountain.
Scottâs hands tremble. He sighs, and writes a mental note to not visit the Bamboozlers anymore.
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So I thought Jimmy was yellow at the end of session 5- checked, and he is red, but well this is a silly drabble anyways!
I had to make a reference to Deal with Destiny in the title okay? Was it obvious? Was it not?
Hope you liked it! ^^
#scott smajor#jimmy solidarity#flower husbands#angst#drabble#wild life smp#silly lil thing I wrote suddenly#i need scott to fight his ex husband so bad!#pearl and scott being soulmates my beloveds
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History
Titans!Jason Todd x Vigilante!Reader
Warnings: Adult Language, LONG INTRO, Angst, Fluff, Weapons, Injuries, Trauma, Heartbreak, Death Mentioned, Dark Themes Mentioned, Violence, Anxiety, Jealousy, Loneliness, and Possible Grammar Errors. (Sorry If I Forgot Any!)
Summary: Y/N is the daughter of Black Canary and Green Arrow. Thatâs how her and Jason met. They met through their parents. The two have so much history between them that is full of ups and downs.
Word Count: 2,212
Authorâs Note: Iâve basically had this in my drafts unfinished all year till I finally just decided to finish it since the idea isnât all that bad. If itâs a little confusing I apologize and the intro is basically a summary of how the reader and Jason became so close. Anyways, I hope you all enjoy it!
Y/N and Jason share a lot of history with one another. Y/N is the only daughter of Dinah Lance and and Olivier Queen who are Black Canary and Green Arrow. Y/N has the same powers her mother has which is a scream that sounds like a canary crying. However, Y/Nâs scream is different. Herâs sounds more like a siren than a canary cry. Thatâs why when she goes out on patrol she goes by the name Siren.
Y/N is also a good and strong combat fighter. Both of her parents are good fighters but have different fight styles, so Y/N knows how to fight using both of her parents' fighting styles. And of course, she also knows how to use a bow and arrow as well.
Y/N and Jason met when her mom was helping Bruce who is Batman on a case that involved someone her mom had dealt with before and ever since that mission Y/N and Jason have grown a bond and have worked together on multiple occasions.
They joined the Titans together. Jason was excited but Y/N felt the opposite. Y/N felt like she did not fit in with a team even though everyone loved her. Jason and Dick helped her a lot with that feeling and made her feel like she belonged on the team.
Everything was going fine till Dick brought in this girl named Rose who just happened to be the daughter of Slade Wilson who is no other than the deadliest assassin, Deathstroke. When Dick let Rose stay in the tower, she butted heads with everyone especially Y/N. It was mostly because of who her father is. Deathstroke has a long history with Y/Nâs parents. She knows all of the horrible things he has done.
It only got worse when Jason didnât listen to Dick and got captured by Deathstroke. He tormented Jason. When Dick and Kory went to get him back Jason almost fell to his death till someone who looked just like Superman came to the rescue and caught him. When Jason returned to the tower Y/N knew something had changed inside of him. All he did was stay in his room which really concerned her. She would tell everyone that something was wrong, but everyone was dealing with their own shit and seemed not to care. They would just tell her heâs just still recovering from what Deathstroke put him through.
One night Y/N finally decided to take matters into her own hands and go talk to Jason. She felt like she was the only one that gave a fuck about Jason. She went to his room and went to knock on the door, but music was playing pretty loud so she just decided to just walk into the room which she immediately regretted it. She walked in to see Jason and Rose kissing. When Jason noticed her, he immediately broke the kiss. Before anyone could say anything Y/N just walked back out. After that happened Y/N couldnât help but feel angry. She also felt jealousy boiling inside her too which did scare her. Jason is her friend, and she feels jealous about him kissing another girl. Why was she feeling jealous?
More chaos ensured after Dick confessed that he murdered Deathstrokeâs son. The old Titans were the most upset. Everyone left the tower except Dick, Gar, and the guy who saved Jason were the only ones that were left. Y/N left with Donna and Rachel while Jason left with Rose which did hurt Y/N. She felt like he rather be with Rose than with her. Things didnât end well between Rose and Jason. Turns out she was just using the team because her father wanted her to help him destroy the team. Y/N didnât hear about the breakup till Rose reunited with the team to take down her father.
Y/N didnât see Jason till Donnaâs funeral. Donna had gotten electrocuted saving Dawn. They just shared a look and that was it. After Donnaâs funeral Y/N went on her own.
She went back to Star City and started to fight crime on her own. She didnât hear from any of the Titans till Jason became Red Hood after coming back from the dead. Dick brought Y/N back to help Jason come back to the good side which worked. After they finished Crane off and sent him back to Archam, Jason confessed his feelings for Y/N which she returned them. When she was out on her own thatâs when she realized her feelings for Jason. When Jason was going through all that darkness Y/N was the one that helped him get through it and thatâs when he realized he has feelings for her.
They started dating each other but sadly the relationship didnât last very long.
â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘
Jason was at the Gotham City Police Department with Barbara in her office. Heâs helping Barbara solve a case that needed help from a vigilante more than a detective. There is a villain named Cupid who has showed up in Gotham. Sheâs been leaving dead men in alleyways. There have already been two victims. One man was found with an arrow through his chest and the other man was found with an arrow going through his head.
Barbara asked Jason if heâs ever dealt with Cupid which he said no. âOkay then I know someone who does know Cupid.â Barbara said which made Jason let out a sigh since he knew who Barbara was talking about. âY/N.â Jason said putting his hands into the pockets of his zipped-up jacket.
âYes, can you go to her and ask her for some help defeating Cupid, sheâs done it before.â Barbara said to him. âI donât know about that, Babs.â Jason said with nervousness in his voice. âJason, I get it. You two had a shitty breakup but we really need her help with this case.â Barbara told him. Jason let out another sigh because he knew Barbara was right. Plus, he wouldâve crossed paths with Y/N sometime. âOkay, Iâll go stop by her apartment.â Jason told her and walked out of the office.
â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘
Jason drove his motorcycle to the apartment building he use to share with Y/N. When he walked inside the building he could feel his heart rate speed up. He felt like his heart was going to beat out of his chest. He stood in front of the door that read 3C in gold. He took a deep breath to calm his pacing nerves down.
He knocked on the door and waited. A couple minutes passed and there was no answer. Jason knocked on the door again and still no answer. Jason figured Y/N wasnât home so he turned to walk away but before he could reach the steps the door opened to reveal Y/N. When he looked at her, he saw the broken look she had in her eyes. Those were the same broken eyes he saw the night he walked out on her.
âWhat the fuck do you want?â Y/N hissed obviously not happy to see him outside her door. âY/N, Iâm not here to fight.â Jason told her in a stern tone. âYou have no business being here, so I donât give a fuck why you are here.â Y/N told him in a snappy tone. She went to close the door, but Jason stopped it from closing with one of his feet.
âY/N, please. Itâs important.â Jason told her. Y/N noticed the serious look in his eyes, so she knew he was telling the truth. âFine.â Y/N said with a heavy sigh and walked away. Jason walked into the apartment and closed the door. He followed Y/N into the living room. She sat down on the chair while he sat down onto the couch.
âWhatâs going on?â Y/N asked him. âBarbara sent me here because we are dealing with a girl named Cupid. Sheâs already left two men dead in alleyways with an arrow in them.â Jason explained to her. âAll Iâm going to tell you is that sheâs a skilled archer just like my dad.â Y/N told him and stood up.
She went to walk into the kitchen, but Jason quickly stood up and grabbed one of her arms. âThatâs it?â Jason asked her. âYouâre not going to help me take her down.â Jason added which made Y/N let out a heavy sigh. She pulled her arm out of his grip. âNo, because thatâs not who I am anymore.â Y/N told him which took him by surprise.
âYouâre not Siren anymore?â Jason asked with a surprised look on his face. âWhy?â He asked her. âGoing out there as Siren just reminds me too much of what happened between us.â Y/N told him looking away from his gaze.
âListen, I didnât mean to hurt you.â Jason told her with sincere in his voice. âIf that was fucking true you wouldnât have said what you said.â Y/N told him in a snappy tone. âI didnât fucking know saving your boyfriend from a bullet was such a wrong thing. I didnât know saving your boyfriend would make him lash out at you and just fucking leave you all by yourself!â Y/N told him looking back at him with a glare in her eyes.
Jason heard the pain in her voice. He regrets everything he said to her that night. Everyday he wishes he could go back in time and take back every word he said to her that night.
âI-â Jason started to say but she immediately cut him off. âYou need to leave, now.â Y/N told him in a stern tone. Jason knew not to argue with her, so he walked out of the apartment. At least he gave her something.
â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘
The past couple of days Jason and Barbara had been tracking Cupid. Tonight was finally the night Jason was going to attack. They thought tonight was the perfect night, but it wasnât going as Jason planned.
Jason was in his Red Hood gear getting his ass kicked by Cupid. When Y/N said Cupid is a skilled archer she forgot to mention that Cupid was also a skilled martial arts fighter. He got thrown into one of the concrete walls. He was too worn out to get back up.
âNow.â Cupid said as she walked up to him. She had her bow in one hand and an arrow in the other. âItâs time to put you out of your fucking misery.â Cupid said aiming her arrow at Jasonâs chest. Before she could shoot the arrow a siren like scream knocked Cupid down making her drop her arrow and bow. When the screaming stopped Jason looked over to see Y/N standing there in her Siren suit.
âLong time no see, Cupid.â Y/N said walking towards her. Y/N picked up Cupidâs bow. âDid you miss me?â Y/N asked with a taunting smirk. Cupid let out a growl as she got back up onto her feet. Before she could charge at Y/N, she used the bow to hit Cupid across the head. Cupid fell down onto the hard ground unconscious. âCrazy bitch.â Y/N hissed throwing the bow down onto the ground.
Y/N walked over to Jason. âAre you okay?â Y/N asked helping him up. âNothing, but some cuts.â Jason told her.
â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘
After the cops picked Cupid up Y/N took Jason back to her apartment to help address his cuts. She had him sitting on the couch. He had two deep cuts on his shoulder that she had to stitch up. Jason was sitting on the couch with just his pants on while Y/N sat next to him stitching up the cuts. There was a comfortable silence between the two.
âAll done.â Y/N said after wrapping up his arm, so the stitches stay safe and in place. âThanks.â Jason told her. Y/N just gave him a nod as she put all of the supplies back into the first aid kit.
âI thought you werenât Siren anymore?â Jason asked her. Y/N let out a sigh as she closed the first aid kit that was sitting on the table. âY/N.â Jason said in a soft voice. âI was scared that you wouldâve been Cupidâs next victim.â Y/N told him without looking at him.
Jason took one of her hands into hisâs which made her look at him. âEverything I said to you that night wasnât directed at you, but it was directed at me.â Jason told her. âWhat?â Y/N asked in a confused tone. âWhen you took that bullet for me, I thought I was going to lose you.â Jason confessed as his eyes started to fill with tears. âI donât know what I wouldâve done without you.â Jason cried which made Y/Nâs heart ache for him.
âJason.â Y/N said putting her free hand onto one of his cheeks. She wiped away some of his tears with her thumb. She had tears streaming down her face, too. âPlease take me back. I love you so much.â Jason said looking into her eyes. Y/N gave him a nod. âI love you, too.â Y/N told him.
âWant to start over?â Jason asked her. âYes.â Y/N said with a nod. Jason leaned in and connected his lips with hers. Y/N returned the kiss. It felt so right for them to be back together, again.
#titans!jason todd x reader#titans!jason Todd#titans!jason Todd imagine#jason todd#dc titans#curran walters#red hood#titans!red hood#Curran Walters x reader#Curran Walters imagine#jason todd x reader#Jason Todd x vigilante!reader#jason todd x you#jason todd x y/n#jason todd x fem!reader#jason todd x female reader#Jason Todd x female!reader#batfamily#jason todd angst#Jason Todd fluff#dc comics#fanfics#fanfiction#female!reader#fem!reader#angst#fluff#Jason Todd titans#titans Jason Todd#red hood x reader
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Classroom Competition (pt. 3) âľ Matt Sturniolo
003. THREE ââ together
summary: two rival English teachers, you and Matt, challenge each other to an end-of-year competition to see whose class will come out on top.
The beginning of the new school year arrived faster than you expected. As you walked through the familiar halls of Somerville High, the faint smell of new textbooks and freshly polished floors filled the air. The sounds of students catching up after summer break echoed around you, but your mind was somewhere else.
A whole summer had passed since you and Matt had reached that⌠truce. And although the rivalry had cooled, your connection with him had only deepened. Youâd stayed in touch throughout the break, texting here and there, even grabbing coffee once or twiceâunder non-bet conditions, of course. But as the school year loomed, the dynamic between you was still uncertain.
You reached your classroom and took a deep breath, pushing thoughts of Matt to the side for now. New year, new students, new challenges. Your room was already neatly organized, just the way you liked it, with desks in perfect rows and bulletin boards showcasing colorful posters about literature and writing. You smiled, excited to meet this yearâs batch of students, already planning ways to top last yearâs success.
Before you could get too far into your thoughts, a knock on the doorframe made you turn. Speak of the devil.
âGood morning, Y/N,â Matt greeted you with a playful grin, leaning casually against the doorframe, arms crossed as usual. His presence filled the room, and you couldnât help the slight uptick of your heart rate.
âMorning, Matt,â you said, setting your bag down on your desk. âHere to check on the competition already?â
Matt chuckled, walking into the room. âJust thought Iâd see how you were settling in for the new year. You know, make sure everythingâs running smoothly on this side of the English department.â
âDĂŠjĂ vu,â you remarked with a smirk. âIâm fine. And this year, Iâm planning on keeping that coffee-buying streak to myself.â
âOh, really?â he raised an eyebrow, that familiar glint in his eyes returning. âWeâll see about that.â
You glanced at him, wondering if you were about to fall back into the same old pattern. But this time, it felt differentâlighter, less charged with the need to outdo each other, and more like the friendly teasing youâd grown accustomed to over the summer.
âActually,â Matt said, interrupting your thoughts, âI was thinking⌠maybe we should work together this year.â
You blinked in surprise. âWork together? As in⌠co-teach?â
âSort of,â he said, leaning against one of your student desks. âIâve got a few ideas for cross-class projectsâsomething that might get both of our groups working together. Instead of competing against each other, we could try collaborating.â
You raised an eyebrow, intrigued. âCollaborating? Thatâs new.â
Matt shrugged, but there was a softness to his usual confidence. âI figured, why not try something different? Besides,â he added with a grin, âI donât want to keep beating you year after year. Might as well share the glory.â
You rolled your eyes, but you were genuinely intrigued. The idea of working with Matt, combining your teaching styles and approaches, was exciting in a way you hadnât expected. And maybeâjust maybeâit was the next step in whatever was happening between the two of you.
âOkay,â you said slowly, crossing your arms as you leaned back against your desk. âIâm listening. What did you have in mind?â
Mattâs eyes lit up as he began explaining his ideaâsomething about pairing your classes for a joint research project on modern interpretations of classic literature. As he spoke, you realized how well your teaching styles could complement each other. Your structured, methodical approach would balance his more creative, out-of-the-box ideas. It could work. More than that, it could be fun.
âSo, what do you think?â Matt asked, finishing his pitch and watching you expectantly.
You paused for a moment, pretending to consider it seriously before flashing him a smile. âI think⌠this could actually be a good idea. But donât think for a second that Iâm not still going to push my students to outshine yours.â
Matt laughed, his expression softening in that way it did when you caught him off guard. âWouldnât expect anything less.â
There was a beat of silence between you two, and for the first time, it wasnât filled with the tension of competition or rivalry. Instead, there was something warmer there, something that felt almost like anticipation.
âI guess this means weâll be seeing a lot more of each other this year,â Matt said, his voice quieter now.
âLooks like it,â you replied, your pulse quickening just a bit.
As Matt pushed off the desk and turned to leave, he paused in the doorway, glancing back at you with a smile that was both teasing and sincere. âLetâs make this year interesting.â
You couldnât help but grin. âItâs a deal.â
And as Matt walked away, you realized that maybe this year would be different in more ways than one. The competition between you and Matt might be shifting, but something elseâsomething unexpectedâwas definitely beginning.
Whatever it was, you were ready.
tag list: @stuwniolo, @sturnobsessedwh0re, @matts-myloverboy, @imjusthereforthesturniolosmut, @lizzymacdonald06, @asherrisrandom, @sturniolowhore69, @faith5drpepper, @emely9274, @psychologyloverfr, @lovetaylorrussellgrr, @conspiracy-ash, @helpimateenagerinlove, @ghostlythinggoingaround, @sturmatt, @wurlibydominicfike
#spotify#matt sturniolo#matt sturniolo x reader#matt x reader#sturniolo#sturniolo triplets#sturniolo fanfic#chris sturniolo#matt sturniolo fluff#matt sturniolo imagine#nick sturniolo#matt sturniolo smut#matt sturniolo x you#matthew bernard sturniolo#matthew sturniolo#matthew sturniolo imagine#matthew sturniolo smut#sturniolo triplets x reader#sturniolo x reader#sturniolo smut#the sturniolo triplets#sturniolo imagine#the sturniolos#christopher sturniolo#matthew sturniolo x reader
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Given the wide range of BL you've consumed and analyzed. I am curious at your perspective when comparing BLs made/written by men and those that were written by women, in a different direction, comparing BLs directed by men in comparison to women.
If you could have the time and give your perspective in this two sources of BL , that would be great.
Hum, I'm not sure how to answer this. Except in a kind of avoidance way because I question the premise.
I think, in general, in most of the film industry, the original writing has very little to do with the final result, because so many new voices and povs are imposed on it the moment it begins to be adapted. After a BL leaves its author (predominantly female) it goes to script, a writers room, and eventually into the hands of director and team. All those people are different genders (predominantly male). And all of them have a significant impact on the end result.
Sometimes the author has unprecedented influence (mame for example) but that's pretty unusual.
Statistically speaking, the origin IP (whether novel or graphic) is most likely written by a female and the resulting BL most likely directed by a male.
There are always exceptions, of course.
Even putting aside all the other people, mostly script writers, in between the two primaries (which I just don't think you can) it would be statistically challenging to draw any commonalities amongst female directors (since there are so few) or amongst male writers (for the same reason). In other words, we have many many examples of really only 1 of the 4 possible combinations, and all those examples are muddied by the nature of the filming process (not to mention the nature of gender).
In other words, it would be challenging for me to say things are generally preferable in any one version of the pairings.
I have liked BLs written and directed by women, written by a woman directed by a man, written by a man directed by a woman, or written and directed by men (although those last two I would struggle to name any BLs).
However, I have also liked and then disliked BLs from the same general team and combination of genders behind the creatives.
For me, at least, there doesn't seem to be a reliable team or a reliable writer or a reliable director whose BL product I will reliably love.
I would hesitate to place a predictor on my BL taste (or anyone else's) based on the gender of any part of the team behind a BL. That seems..... weird. Especially when queers and 3rd gender etc are involved (and we have always been involved in artistic spaces for as long as humans have existed, I suspect).
But then I feel that way about most entertainment, from music to books to plays to comedy to fashion. I can be a fan of a director's style but not like some of their shows, just as I can be a fan of an actor's performance but not the character they're playing, or a fan of a pair's chemistry but not in those roles, and so forth.
I think what youth and influencers and the internet age has forgotten is that it's okay to admire a creative individual and not slavishly adore everything that they produce. (For fuck's sake though, don't tell them that, you absolute troll.)
Creatives and creative teams also have their own taste, and that may conflict with yours. Especially with newer IP where you might want the same old same old and they need to evolved. Consumers of entertainment are remarkably resistant to creativity, innovation, and change (so oxymoronic) .
It's okay, maybe you'll like their next BL, song, book, painting, performance......
I have no idea how I got here but:
Thank you for coming to my Ted Talk.
I do have some stuff on a queer lens here:
#noodling on the nature of creativity#the film industry#getting annoyed with viewers as is per usu#what's gender got to do with it do with it?
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Ooh! I'm super late to respond to this, but I love the question :) Unnecessarily long reply incoming.
I think that a canon-compliant argument could be made for basically any answer to this question, on both the "when did Sirius find out" axis and the "how much did Sirius know" axis of the hypothetical graph. (Which is my favorite kind of canon ambiguity, tbh, because I love being surprised by different takes).
That said, one headcanon of mine that I'm quite fond of rests on the idea that Sirius knew everything that James knew â and that James knew 100% of it â basically from the time that the Potters went into hiding.
Because, if (1) Sirius did know the entire text of the prophecy, and (2) Dumbledore's biggest priority in OoTP is to hide that text from Voldemort, then Dumbledore's adamance that Sirius not leave Grimmauld Place makes a lot more sense.
Per Sirius:
"I've been stuck inside for a month...Because the Ministry of Magic's still after me, and Voldemort will know all about me being an Animagus by now, Wormtail will have told him, so my big disguise is useless."
The Ministry of Magic never learns that Sirius is an Animagus, as far as I can tell. (Maybe there's a risk that someone like Malfoy might tip them off? But he never actually does.). And Sirius has demonstrated that he can successfully evade the Ministry in his dog form for two years prior to OoTP â even before allies like Kingsley and Tonks are available to help him out by misdirecting other Aurors. The major threat preventing Sirius from going on Order missions as a dog, then, seems to be the Death Eaters, not the Ministry.
But Death Eaters are a threat to any member of the Order of the Phoenix, not just Sirius! Maybe he's slightly more at risk than others because of the way he's been marginalized by society â the mysterious death/disappearance of Ministry employee Kingsley Shacklebolt, for instance, might be harder to keep secret than the murder of a fugitive â but Voldemort did show that he was willing to kill Order members when Nagini attacked Arthur Weasley. So why should Dumbledore single Sirius out so completely? Why prioritize Sirius's safety over literally any other contribution that he could make to the Order, when other members are also facing risks to their lives?
(This is also where I notice that Dumbledore's insistence on keeping Sirius in hiding doesn't start right away after Voldemort's return. He's perfectly willing to ask Sirius to seek out "the old crowd" at the end of GoF, even though Wormtail has had a year to tell Voldemort everything he knows by this point, including the details of Sirius's Animagus form. The decision to confine Sirius indoors happens sometime after the Order begins to regroup â quite possibly around the same time that Dumbledore learns that Voldemort is after the prophecy.)
Considering the close attention Voldemort pays to Harry's personal ties, it's very plausible to me that Wormtail told Voldemort everything he knew about Sirius, including the fact that he was James Potter's closest confidant. From this, Voldemort might surmise that Sirius knows the text of the prophecy and target him as a result. (Or, even if Voldemort doesn't specifically target Sirius, a random incident resulting in his capture could yield the text of the prophecy through Legilimency if Sirius does happen to know it). If so, Dumbledore's insistence on keeping Sirius inside Grimmauld Place at all times could be read as a direct response to this risk.
I don't think that this take even requires a terribly Machiavellian read of Dumbledore in order to work: if Sirius knows the text of the prophecy, and is at high risk as a result, then hiding Sirius from Voldemort â aside from being essential to the Order's aims â could also be an honest attempt to "[try] to keep Sirius alive," as Dumbledore tells Harry at the end of the book.
Everything mentioned above can absolutely be explained in other ways, of course, but I do think this possibility is quite fun. Loved seeing all of the competing reads too!
When do you think Sirius learned about the prophecy?
I think Dumbledore didnât tell the Potters muchâI think he wouldâve kept the most important details to himself. I say this because Voldemort didnât know the whole prophecy despite having Peter as a spy. If James trusted Peter enough to use him as Secret Keeper, he probably would have shared the knowledge of the prophecy with Peter. And since Voldemort didnât know the whole thing, we can trust that Peter must not have known it all.
James probably would have shared what he knew with Sirius, but what parts were missing?
I sort of wonder if Dumbledore shared more with Sirius during OotP? But how much?
Clearly, by OotP, he knew there was a prophecy obviously, but how much did he actually know? Did he know the last bit?
Basically, I wanna see that conversation.
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