#live talks los angeles

[larrywilmore]

Rep. Katie Porter on Congress

So insightful talking with @RepKatiePorter about how Congress works...and doesn't work. Listen to our full conversation on @spotify

[girlinafairytale]

[soyboywenzie]

man oh man i cannot wait for darksvster to leak the scripts for this season my gGODS

[nezoid]

cotnoir:

Such a fun @thegeorgelucastalkshow early show at @dynastytypewriter! Thanks to everyone for coming out in the rain and thanks to @tatianamaslany, @brendanhines, @williebhines and @richsommer! Video coming soon

📸: @jill.petracek

[anyroads]

What's interesting to me about this discourse is whether or not it holds any place for how many series have been cancelled without an opportunity for a satisfying conclusion because of the very producers the WGA is striking against? If you think writers don't want to finish telling their stories, then wow are you confused about why they do what they do. As opposed to the networks and the AMPTP who don't care about story for a second, they only care about the bottom line. If their threshold for a show is 3 million viewers and it's only got 2.8 million, then that show gets cancelled, and don't think for a second they think twice about the 2.8 million people who don't get to hear the rest of the story they've committed to. They don't.

The writers not only don't owe you their labor, but most of them WANT to finish telling you the story. It's just that if they don't get reasonable pay and healthcare, then they aren't able to. And the guy who could be telling you a story in five years won't even get a chance to start it. That's what they're fighting for.

The big discourse on twitter right now is that writers going on strike or cancelling their own series are breaking an invisible “contract” they made with their fans and all creators owe their fans a satisfying conclusion to their stories. Actually if a creator says “I don’t want to perform this labor anymore,” then regardless of the cliffhanger that leaves you with, your only response should be “take care! Thank you for all your hard work!!!” :)

[eat-my-cake-records]

DJ Wet CupCake: The Beat-Master Narrating Azeroth’s Chaotic Trade Chat Live on KAKE 420 AM

KAKE 420 AM In an era where social media giants dominate the landscape, one voice rises from the cosmic wilderness of Azeroth’s Moon Guard to remind us of a time when Trade Chat was the most raw and authentic social platform on the internet. Enter DJ Wet CupCake, the emcee whose live shows on KAKE 420 AM blend avant-garde beats, quirky commentary, and the unfiltered madness of Moon Guard…

[modernmanblues]

the tale of two cities

[infiniteglitterfall]

know someone who enjoys horror stories? share this one! it's true!

hahahahahahahahahaha aarrggghhhhhhhhhh 3,000,000 deaths due to COVID-19 last year. Globally. Three million. Case rates higher than 90% of the rest of the pandemic. The reason people are still worried about COVID is because it has a way of quietly fucking up your body. And the risk is cumulative.

I'm going to say that again: the risk is cumulative.

It's not just that a lot of people get bad long-term effects from it. One in seven or so? Enough that it's kind of the Russian Roulette of diseases. It's also that the more times you get it, the higher that risk becomes. Like if each time you survived Russian Roulette, the empty chamber was removed from the gun entirely. The worst part is that, psychologically, we have the absolute opposite reaction. If we survive something with no ill effects, we assume it's pretty safe. It is really, really hard to override that sense of, "Ok, well, I got it and now I probably have a lot of immunity and also it wasn't that bad." It is not a respiratory disease. Airborne, yes. Respiratory disease, no: not a cold, not a flu, not RSV.

Like measles (or maybe chickenpox?), it starts with respiratory symptoms. And then it moves to other parts of your body. It seems to target the lungs, the digestive system, the heart, and the brain the most.

It also hits the immune system really hard - a lot of people are suddenly more susceptible to completely unrelated viruses. People get brain fog, migraines, forget things they used to know.

(I really, really hate that it can cross the blood-brain barrier. NOTHING SHOULD EVER CROSS THE BLOOD-BRAIN BARRIER IT IS THERE FOR A REASON.) Anecdotal examples of this shit are horrifying. I've seen people talk about coworkers who've had COVID five or more times, and now their work... just often doesn't make sense? They send emails that say things like, "Sorry, I didn't mean Los Angeles, I meant Los Angeles."

Or they insist they've never heard of some project that they were actually in charge of a year or two before.

Or their work is just kind of falling apart, and they don't seem to be aware of it.

People talk about how they don't want to get the person in trouble, so their team just works around it. Or they describe neighbors and relatives who had COVID repeatedly, were nearly hospitalized, talked about how incredibly sick they felt at the time... and now swear they've only had it once and it wasn't bad, they barely even noticed it.

(As someone who lived with severe dissociation for most of my life, this is a genuinely terrifying idea to me. I've already spent my whole life being like, "but what if I told them that already? but what if I did do that? what if that did happen to me and I just don't remember?") One of its known effects in the brain is to increase impulsivity and risk-taking, which is real fucking convenient honestly. What a fantastic fucking mutation. So happy for it on that one. Yes, please make it seem less important to wear a mask and get vaccinated. I'm not screaming internally at all now.

I saw a tweet from someone last year whose family hadn't had COVID yet, who were still masking in public, including school.

She said that her son was no kind of an athlete. Solidly bottom middle of the pack in gym.

And suddenly, this year, he was absolutely blowing past all the other kids who had to run the mile. He wasn't running any faster. His times weren't fantastic or anything. It's just that the rest of the kids were worse than him now. For some reason. I think about that a lot. (Like my incredibly active six-year-old getting a cold, and suddenly developing post-viral asthma that looked like pneumonia.

He went back to school the day before yesterday, after being home for a month and using preventative inhalers for almost week.

He told me that it was GREAT - except that he couldn't run as much at recess, because he immediately got really tired. Like how I went outside with him to do some yard work and felt like my body couldn't figure out how to increase breathing and heart rate.

I wasn't physically out of breath, but I felt like I was out of breath. That COVID feeling people describe, of "I'm not getting enough air." Except that I didn't have that problem when I had COVID.) Some people don't observe any long (or medium) term side effects after they have it.

But researchers have found viral reservoirs of COVID-19 in everyone they've studied who had it.

It just seems to hang out, dormant, for... well, longer than we've had an opportunity to observe it, so far.

(I definitely watched that literal horror movie. I think that's an entire genre. The alien dormant under ice in the Arctic.)

(oh hey I don't like that either!!!!!!!!!) All of which is to explain why we should still care about avoiding it, and how it manages to still cause excess deaths. Measuring excess deaths has been a standard tool in public health for a long time.

We know how many people usually die from all different causes, every year. So we can tell if, for example, deaths from heart disease have gone way up in the past three years, and look for reasons. Those are excess deaths: deaths that, four years ago, would not have happened. During the pandemic, excess death rates have been a really important tool. For all sorts of reasons. Like, sometimes people die from COVID without ever getting tested, and the official cause is listed as something else because nobody knows they had COVID. But also, people are dying from cardiovascular illness much younger now.

People are having strokes and heart attacks younger, and more often, than they did before the pandemic started. COVID causes a lot of problems. And some of those problems kill people. And some of them make it easier for other things to kill us. Lung damage from COVID leading to lungs collapsing, or to pneumonia, or to a pulmonary embolism, for example. The Economist built a machine-learning model with a 95% confidence interval that gauges excess death statistics around the world, to tell them what the true toll of the ongoing COVID pandemic has been so far.

Total excess deaths globally in 2023: Three million.

3,000,000.

Official COVID-19 deaths globally so far: Seven million. 7,000,000. Total excess deaths during COVID so far: Thirty-five point two million. 35,200,000.

Five times as many.

That's bad. I don't like that at all. I'm glad last year was less than a tenth of that. I'm not particularly confident about that continuing, though, because last year we started a period of really high COVID transmission. Case rates higher than 90% of the rest of the pandemic. Here's their data, and charts you can play with, and links to detailed information on how they did all of this:

Here's a non-paywalled link to it:

https://archive.vn/2024.01.26-012536/https://www.economist.com/graphic-detail/coronavirus-excess-deaths-estimates

Oh: here's a link to where you can buy comfy, effective N95 masks in all sizes:

Those ones are about a buck each after shipping - about $30 for a box of 30. They also have sample packs for a dollar, so you can try a couple of different sizes and styles.

You can wear an N95 mask for about 40 total hours before the effectiveness really drops, so that's like a dollar for a week of wear.

They're also family-owned and have cat-shaped masks and I really love them. These ones are cuter and in a much wider range of colors, prints, and styles, but they're also more expensive; they range from $1.80 to $3 for a mask. ($18-$30 for a box of ten.)

[whimsiwitchy]

Controversially Young Girlfriend 

Hugh Jackman x popstar!reader 

series masterlist & main masterlist

summary: y/n is a globally beloved pop star. She is known for her talent and dedication towards her craft. Recently, she has also been known for her preference for older men. After a breakup with her former older boyfriend, she had a run in with the hottest dilf right now, Hugh Jackman. Y/n tried to warn him, but what can she say, she has an effect on hot, older men. 

warnings: age gap (23/55), cursing, y/n used, implied shorter reader, afab reader, she/her pronouns. 

warnings will change as the story progresses! all descriptions of real people in this story are FAKE. i do not know these people and this is purely fiction. Please let me know if I missed anything! <33

authors note: this is an idea I had that I really needed to write. I’d love to make this a series if you guys want more, just let me know! This is only my second time writing fanfiction and my first time writing for Hugh, please be nice lol. Thank you for reading! <3

Part one: breakup and new beginnings 

Being a young girl living in the middle of bumfuck nowhere made it seem impossible to live your dreams of becoming a singer. You grew up in a tiny little town in Louisiana called Minden. With a population of less than 15,000 people, the closest ‘big’ city being Shreveport, growing up was pretty boring. You had big dreams of making it big and making it the fuck out of the country. Minden wasn’t always so bad. It was a nice community that had fun things here and there, but you craved more. 

Once you graduated highschool back in 2020, you focused on working and saving as much money as you could, only buying essentials and equipment to help make music. You took a few online classes on producing and tried your best to make whatever song was bouncing around in your head come to life. It took a year for you to feel confident enough to release your first few songs out into the world. So in July of 2021, you teased a song on TikTok to your small following. You started to gain a few more followers here and there, it was exciting. At the end of August, you released your first song titled ‘to the point’ and it blew up on the clock app. You gained a hefty following after that, on the brink of hitting one million. 

By the end of 2022, deciding on Los Angeles, you had finally saved enough money to move, so you were packing your bags and heading out. Your agent was ecstatic about the move because it meant more opportunities for your career. After releasing a few more songs over the past year, you hired Stacy to help you manage everything. 

Fastwording to 2024, your dreams have come true and you have been an established and respected artist for almost two years. You started to build a reputation as someone who was dedicated and passionate about their craft- always being involved in any creative process. It was bliss. Lately though, you’ve gained another reputation, the controversial young girlfriend, a whore, a gold digger. Since you’ve been in the spotlight, you’ve had your fair share of dating history and if they all happened to be older men, so what? It wasn’t something you had planned on but older men were just built differently. They were so much sexier and put together than the guys your age. They knew what they were doing and how to treat a woman right. You were so tired of being asked out through instagram direct messages, you wanted someone who wasn’t afraid to talk to you in person, and that seemed to only come from men twice your age. You weren’t complaining though, you enjoyed it. 

Your last ‘scandalous’ relationship ended up being far more public than you intended it to be. In the beginning, the men you were seen with were never anything serious, just dates or one night stands. Though with Pedro it was different. You dated him for six months before it all came crashing down and you felt heartbroken. He was the sweetest man you’d ever been with and it all ended because the hate from fans on our age gap was too much for him. It was an ugly breakup and you were positive that he wouldn’t want to be associated with you anymore, even as friends. 

-

“I should have picked a different song.” You huff in frustration. Today you were going to be performing on BBC’s Radio 1 Live Lounge and as requested, you'd be performing your own song and a cover of your choosing. When Stacy first presented this opportunity to you, it had only been a month after your recent breakup and naturally you chose to cover ‘THE GREATEST’ by Billie Eilish. Now that you were mostly over Pedro, the song seemed silly to sing and you weren’t feeling as vocally confident now that you were here. 

“Babe, you’re gonna kill it! Just let your emotions flow, give the fans what they want.” Stacy is sitting across the room as she comforts you. She’s fidgeting with your vocal humidifier, attempting to put it together before you start warming up. Her advice isn’t terrible, she’s right. You’d been pretty silent on the subject matter, steering clear of social media so you wouldn’t say anything stupid. Rumors of your breakup had been all over the headlines but there hasn’t been confirmation from either of you. Singing this song today would definitely stir the pot again and make everyone realize that it is done between you two. 

“You’re right.” 

“As always. Here, start warming up the money maker.” She laughs while handing you the humidifier. 

“I really hope he doesn’t watch it. I’d literally smash my head into a brick wall out of embarrassment…” 

Placing the humidifier over your mouth and nose, you sit there letting your mind wander. Having your personal life exposed to everyone really sucked and hiding your boyfriends wasn’t something you wanted to do, but you knew that in the future it was something that would have to happen. 

“I think I’m taking a break from men.” You let out proudly, glancing over at Stacy. 

“Whatever you say girl.” You could hear the doubt lingering in her tone and the roll of her eyes. 

“Ugh… You don’t believe me do you? I can totally break off from men and be my own person for once.” 

“I’m not trying to doubt you babe. It’s just…You tend to attract men like a magnet and you have some severe daddy issues.” She's typing away on her laptop as if she didn’t just completely disrespect you. 

“I don’t have daddy issues.” You say flatly. “I happen to have a very loving father who was always present in my life, so the whole dating older men thing does NOT stem from daddy issues. Thank you very much.” You say matter of factly. 

“Hm..Well I give it a week.” 

-

After a few sound checks for your mic and band, you perform your first song. You chose a more upbeat song off your debut album to start, given that you were about to lay your heart out of the line. It was honestly kind of awkward performing in this setting. There was a booth in front of you that had the sound board and all of the other electronic stuff that you didn’t understand. Then right to the left of that, the cameras were positioned with a group of crew members sitting behind them. It always felt awkward performing to smaller audiences. 

The first song went by smoothly, earning a few cheers from the people in the room. As the band prepared for the next song, you could see the door in the booth open and two figures walk in. You weren’t wearing your glasses or contacts since it was supposed to be a short day, so you really couldn’t make out who had just walked in. You assumed more workers came in and brushed it off. 

“All ready?” A man behind the camera asks and you give a thumbs up. 

You somehow managed to get through the song without having any vocal mess ups. It was a challenging song and you'd definitely have to text Billie later to give her some credit. A few tears slipped here and there, feeling the emotions that you thought were gone slowly be released. You pulled yourself together and you felt really proud of the performance as a whole, showing the world the potential your voice had. 

A few soft claps are dying out as everyone starts cleaning up the room. You’re reaching down to grab your water bottle when you feel someone rushing up towards you. 

“Ahhh you did great babe but um two hot dudes will be walking through that door any second!” Stacy is whispering and all you could do was give her a confused look before the door opens. You squint trying to make out the two figures. 

“God you’re talented!” You hear the voice before you see the face. 

“Oh um, thank you so much.” You let out not really sure who you were speaking to. Once the two men get into view, your jaw drops slightly. 

“HOLY SHIT!” You yell a little too loudly. Slapping your hand over your mouth, you hear a very rich man laugh coming from a very good looking man. For some reason, whoever is in charge of the fate of the universe has blessed you with the presence of Ryan Reynalds and Hugh Jackaman. 

“Oh my god i’m so sorry, that’s literally so embarrassing. I just couldn’t see who you were at first.” 

“It’s okay sweetheart.” They both wear big smiles on their faces. 

“I’m y/n, it’s so nice to meet y’all, i’m a big fan!” You gush out, trying your best to refrain from fangirling. 

“We’re big fans as well. We were next door interviewing for the radio show, when we heard you were recording over here. We ran over here to try to catch you.” Ryan lets out. 

“No shit! That’s so cool. I really appreciate it.” Before the conversation could continue, Ryan is being called over by someone, leaving Hugh and yourself alone. 

“Hows Pedro, haven't seen him in awhile.” Hugh asks genuinely, giving you a small smile. It caught you off guard completely. You racked your brain trying to think of a time in your six month relationship that Pedro mentioned Hugh at all but nothing came up. 

“Oh I uh- I wouldn’t know. We aren’t together anymore.” Your voice is soft, trying not to make this any more awkward. 

“Shit. I’m so sorry, with the way he spoke about you, I thought you’d be together longer…” He trails off. 

“Yea me too.. he couldn’t handle the heat I guess.” You shrug. 

“Well, his loss yea?” He smiles trying to cheer you up. 

“Yea..” You say softly, your voice matching your smile. You take a moment to really look at him and he’s beyond handsome. He’s aged but in a way that makes you wish you were able to see the years go by with him. He was tall, almost towering over you, and his muscles were practically popping out of his shirt. 

The same guy that was walking to Ryan, gathers the three of you for a picture for the BBC socials. You stand in the middle, both men placing their arms behind either side of you. Hugh’s hand was placed on the small of your back. You looked up at him quickly, his face already smiling at the camera. You hear the camera go off a few times, causing you to look that way as well. Once the cameraman was satisfied, everyone gave their goodbyes and the room cleared out. 

-

Later that night you were scrolling through your phone when a text popped up from Stacy. 

Stacypoo <33: I told you. You couldn’t even go a week. ;) 

The text is accompanied by a screenshot of a notification stating that “‘thehughjackman’ started following you!”. You rushed to open instagram and went to your followers to search from his name. You stared at his page for a few minutes before following him back. 

While you had control over your own social media, someone handled all of your business related content. You went on your page to see that the picture that was taken at BBC earlier today was already posted with one comment standing out beyond the rest. 

Thehughjackman: Great meeting you sweetheart! :)

Thank you for reading <3

part two

[larrywilmore]

Bill Maher doesn't need the likes

One of the things I appreciate about Bill Maher is he has a point of view not beholden to an orthodoxy. During our Live Talks LA program we explored why it has become so controversial to have opposing views and how those attitudes have lead to increasing polarization. 

Listen to our full conversation on @spotify

[girlinafairytale]

[slutforfinnickodair]

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐎𝐅𝐅𝐈𝐂𝐄

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐚 𝐭𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐚𝐭 𝐚 𝐬𝐜𝐡𝐨𝐨𝐥 𝐢𝐧 𝐓𝐨𝐫𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐨, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐚 𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥 𝐠𝐞𝐭𝐬 𝐛𝐮𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐞𝐝 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐜𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐬. 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐜𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐢𝐧 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐝𝐚𝐝, 𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐜𝐡 𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐧𝐬 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐝𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐦𝐚𝐝𝐞..

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: 𝐚𝐠𝐞 𝐠𝐚𝐩! (𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐢𝐬 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝟐𝟒, 𝐡𝐚𝐲𝐝𝐞𝐧 𝐢𝐬 𝟒𝟑), 𝐛𝐮𝐥𝐥𝐲𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐜𝐡𝐨𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐤, 𝐜𝐥𝐢𝐭 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐲, 𝐛𝐫𝐞𝐞𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐤, 𝐨𝐟𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐞 𝐬𝐞𝐱, 𝐧𝐨 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 (𝐰𝐫𝐚𝐩 𝐢𝐭 𝐛𝐞𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐭𝐚𝐩 𝐢𝐭!)

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: 𝐅!𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐱 𝐇𝐚𝐲𝐝𝐞𝐧 𝐂𝐡𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐬𝐞𝐧

𝐀/𝐍: 𝐈 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐀𝐒𝐇𝐋𝐄𝐈𝐆𝐇 𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐇𝐄𝐑 𝐂𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐕𝐄 𝐈𝐃𝐄𝐀𝐒 𝐆𝐈𝐑𝐋! 𝐅𝐎𝐋𝐋𝐎𝐖 𝐇𝐄𝐑 @angelst4re <𝟑𝟑𝟑

-------

“So? How was your ‘date’?” One of your colleagues called Ashley asked as you kept pouring yourself the poor coffee that was made in the office.

“Horrible.” You muttered while leaning against one of those desks. “I mean, we talked, argued, screamed at the other and then I left.” You took off your glasses and stared at her lazily.

“Well, he was a dick anyways.” She stated while you widened your eyes, giggling as one of the kids from the lower classes ran by the door, straight to the next class that was next room.

“Quiet, I don’t want them to hear such things.” You said while smiling slightly.

“How about Belle? Is she okay?”

“Don’t even get me started.”

“Come on. Tell me. I don’t have any classes left.”

“But I do.” You said while Ashley took you by the arms and pulled you back into the office.

“You have language. Fourth period. It’s only the second yet.”

“Fine.” You muttered while sitting down with her by her own table.

“She’s doing fine right now, though I called some of those girls' parents in to make sure that they knew what their children were doing.”

“Do you know why they did that? I mean she is the sweetest kid in that class. There’s only one girl who likes her.”

“I think the source is her parents.” You sighed while stirring your coffee, even the smell making you flinch.

“I never saw any of them picking her up yet. Who are they?”

“Oh my god your husband is obsessed with Star Wars and you don’t know who Belle’s father is?” You asked while realization settled down on her face.

“You are not for real right now.”

“And her mother?”

“Well she lives in Los Angeles so..” You swallowed. “She spends most of her time with her dad.”

“He has a chokehold on me. Don’t tell this to Jeremy.”

“I won’t.” You laughed softly. 

Ashley eyed you for a second before she started talking.

“He’s still single isn’t he?”

“Ashley!” You exclaimed while trying to keep in your giggles.

“What? I’m just trying to point out the best things.”

“He’s forty three.”

“Hmm how well educated you are.” She smirked while you rolled your eyes, smiling to yourself as you kept stirring the black liquid.

“You are keeping something away from me aren’t you?” She asked while you tilted your head, licking your lips.

Oh how you still wished it were his lips laying on yours, lapping for a taste.

“Nothing.” 

Maybe you kissed once, but it meant nothing. He probably had many different hookups and you were only one of the girls who had a chance to accidentally be stuck in an elevator with him.

—

“Mr Christensen?” Your voice dripped with seriousness as you placed the phone between your shoulder and head, scribbling over some papers as you waited for his response.

“Yes?” The deep voice rang through your nerves as the pen between your fingers started to become more productive over the piece of paper.

“I would like to settle down for a talk with you. Hopefully on Friday. Anytime it’s good for you.”

“What would it be about?”

“Your daughter. What else?”

“I thought you wanted to talk about last week.”

“What exactly happened last week Mr Christensen?” 

You heard a deep chuckle come from the other side of the line.

“See you later.”

—

You sat in your office on a Friday afternoon while the screen of your laptop in front of your eyes made you tired. 

But the screen or the light wasn’t what made you feel anxious.

Ever since your call with Hayden, you’ve been playing with your fingers, readjusting your clothes or even brushing your fingers through your hair. Though you didn’t invite him into your office to talk about yourselves, it felt like you did.

You missed the way his lips felt on yours. Soft, plump and irresistible. The way his hands slid down from your waist to grasp into the soft skin of your thighs, to pick you up and push you against the wall of the screwed up elevator.

If maybe it didn’t start working again all of the sudden, maybe you would have let him to even fuck you in that little space. 

Of course it wasn’t like the whole set of female teachers in the school you were teaching weren't turning their heads when he stopped to pick up Belle. Or didn’t talk about him between breaks.

You could hear everything. Not that you felt jealous, because you had no reason to. You never were the type to feel jealous about a person.

And he didn’t even know anything about you.

You sighed while taking off your glasses and rubbing your eyes slightly not to mess up your mascara. 

You should never feel like this about one of your student’s caregivers, but the feeling again of having him all to yourself was making you feral.

Your feet shifted uncomfortably in your heels, making you sit up from the chair and walk towards the cabinet that you had in your office.

Just then a knock was heard.

You widen your eyes before rushing back to your desk and placing your glasses back on your nose before answering.

“Come on in!” Your voice was stable as you shifted in your seat, waiting for the door to open.

As it did, you saw Hayden enter. He was dressed up casually, nothing extreme. He was wearing jeans with a white top and a leather jacket hanging on his shoulders. His hair was tousled, the soft blonde locks being enlightened by the soft light coming through the windows.

“Miss Y/N/L.” He greeted you while you smiled at him the best you could and stood up to shake hands with him.

Even his hands felt so warm and soft that the feeling sent a wave of nervousness down to your stomach.

“Sit down please.” You said while sitting back into your chair.

He sat down across from you, waiting for you to start speaking. He slightly stirred in his seat as he looked into your eyes directly. 

You cleared your throat before beginning to speak.

“First of all I’m really sorry for what happened with Belle. I don’t even know how to express how deeply I feel for her. I called you in because I needed to know if she talked with you about anything that happened, because since the incident happened I haven’t really seen her.” The calm look on his face made you feel easier to speak, because let’s be honest it’s always easier to speak with someone who can be understanding and not screaming off your head after every sentence you make.

“No.” He shook his head. “Not really. She mentioned that they were playing hide and seek and then suddenly someone cut her hair off. She didn’t see who it was because apparently that someone ran off and she didn’t feel the cut.” Hayden said while you bit the inside of your cheek.

“I would totally understand if you’d like to change schools after what happened. But I can assure you that one of the apparent groups of girls that planned to do this was expelled. I sent a letter to the ministry. So due to her earlier behavior and to this they decided that it would be the best if she got kicked out. There were still some girls there but they didn’t want to speak up.” Your lips pressed into a tight line as you watched him react to your words.

He was still calm. But you could sense the tension in the air still.

“Thank you.” He said. 

You maybe expected something better as a response, but you already got used to short replies from many parents.

“Okay well..” You stood up again. “It was nice to talk with you then.” You flashed him a smile before he stood up too.

He smirked before turning away from you.

You knitted your brows together before shaking your head and leading him to the door. 

“You don’t want to talk about it, I feel like.” He started while you looked up at his tall frame.

“Talk about what exactly?” Your eyes shined with curiosity.

“I think you know exactly what I mean, Y/N.” 

It was weird that he used your first name, no one ever did that. But from him it sounded like an angel was calling your name. Your mind wandered to thousands of different places while you felt yourself getting aroused.

You had enough for a month of acting like this towards someone you wanted to be with. You didn’t know if he felt the same, but you wanted him either way.

So with that you stepped forward and got on your tiptoes before pressing a soft kiss down on his lips.

The feeling was surreal. Like you got a taste straight out of heaven. You pulled away slightly as you saw confusion set on his face turning into need. He pressed his lips against yours now, shrugging his jacket down from his arms while picking you up with the slightest force.

You gasped a little as he grabbed into your thighs, your hands on his shoulders as you licked along his lower lip. His hands softly kneaded the skin of your inner thighs while you moaned at the feeling, making him enter his tongue into your mouth. 

You felt the edge of your desk press into your back while you reached behind yourself, knocking off a jar of pens and pencils with hundreds of paper sheets. You tried grinding your hips against him, moaning again once he squeezed your skin and laid you down on the table. 

Your hands went to his back, grasping at the fabric. His lips traced a line down from your lips to your jawline and then down to your neck.

You tilted your head backwards a little for him to have easier access. It didn’t take him long to find your sweet spot. He started licking and biting along the skin as filthy sounds left your lips.

Your office wasn’t soundproof, but you couldn’t care less when he was on top of you. You felt like exploding while his hands ran down to undo the buttons of your blouse, revealing your white lacy bra.

“Arch your back Sweetheart.” He murmured and you did so, slipping his hand up the fabric on your back while undoing your bra clip with ease.

Hm, experienced. You thought to yourself.

He pressed down hot, wet kisses down on your breasts as he tossed your bra somewhere in your office.

One of your already hardened nipples got caught by his warm mouth as he sucked on the little bud making you moan again and tilt your head back into the table.

He was playing with your other breast while you reached for his belt, brushing your hand once against his crotch before sliding the zipper down on his pants.

He let out a groan which caused a vibration to go down your spine. He pulled away from your right breasts to attack the other one, making you arch your back slightly. You could easily feel how hard he was getting with your hand in his pants already.

He then pulled away from your chest and slid your skirt off easily, showing off your panties that were barely covering anything.

“Do you wear something like this to school?” He chuckled while you rolled your eyes. 

“I don’t think there’s anyone who would look under my skirt.” You said while looking up at the ceiling.

“Surely..” He whispered before undoing his belt and getting his dick out of his underwear. You didn’t even look at him, not wanting to be freaked out or anything.

Of course you had many nights with guys other than your ex boyfriend, but since you didn’t have a good fuck for at least two years now you were aching for him to be inside of you finally.

He softly pressed two fingers against the fabric, rubbing them from your slit up to your sweet little clit. You gasped softly while closing your eyes and getting lost in the feeling. 

You then felt his head rubbing along your panties while you secure your legs along his waist.

“You sure you want this?” He asked while you leant up on your elbows, watching him. Your eyes widened at his size, gulping and looking up at him with a nod.

“Take off those panties.” He said while you smirked.

“Why don’t you take them off?” You teased.

“If I take them off I will rip them off. If you don’t want to walk around without any underwear I suggest you take them off.” His voice was dripping with desire and you rather stayed in place watching him.

He arched a brow.

“Okay Sweetheart you choose it this way.” He whispered before completely tearing the fabric away.

You gasped as the sudden wind hit your pussy, wanting to press your thighs together.

“Young thing.” He tilted his head, but before you could make a comment he pressed his pointer down where your wetness was collecting, bringing it up to your clit.

“Fuck.” You said while watching him working his finger on your sensitive bud.

He rubbed his finger along, slightly, teasing. Then he simply spat on it, smearing the drool all over while you let out a loud moan. 

“Hayden.” You reached for his hand while he pushed you down on the table, hand sneaking up to press on your chest. 

You mewled while he worked his fingers on your clit, sucking his fingers once he was done.  

“You ready?” He asked while you nodded your head frequently, squirming as you felt his warm pre-cum leaking onto your pussy.

His head slipped down to your heat, then up again, teasing your slit while smirking.

Then he pushed his tip in.

You swore you could see stars.

“Fuck Darling this pussy of yours is really tight.” He chuckled. “If I didn't know better I would think you are a virgin.” His hand went down to play with your pussy while he pushed himself entirely into you.

“Fuck.” You said in unison, your head lifted up to see where the two of you were connected.

He started rocking his hips into your slightly as you trailed your hands up to his biceps, squeezing at his flesh while he leant on top of you, holding himself up by your sides. 

You leant yourself up to kiss him, arms wrapping around his neck. 

It was a shame that you already felt your stomach tightening with that little bubble of pleasure building in your tummy.

“Fuck me.” You whispered while he kissed you, increasing his pace.

“Yeah you want me like this?” He grinned while you nodded your head, arching your back.

“Answer me Doll.” He said while wrapping one of his hands around your throat.

Your eyes were rolling back into your head as he fucked you hard against the table, making you loose all of your self confidence.

“Yes, Hayden please!” You cried while he sighed, going even faster.

“Oh my god.” He said while he looked down at you, the signs of real pleasure were all over your face.

He didn’t even need you to announce that you were already coming down on his dick because he could feel your velvety falls squeezing his hard cock.

“You want to come?” He asked while you nodded your head, moaning as he started rubbing your pussy again.

“Oh I’m coming.” You said while grabbing into his back, your finely manicured nails pressing into his skin.

“Fuck Sweetheart.” He groaned while you screamed as he fucked you through your orgasm.  

“Come inside of me.” You said suddenly breathless.

“Yes? You want to feel me?” He asked while pressing into you softly.

You squirmed. 

“Yes!” You gasped as he picked up his pace again, the overstimulation giving in again.

“I’m close.” He murmured while you looked up at his gorgeous face. His lips were parted, sounds that made you clench around his member left his mouth.

“Y/N” He sighed while you moaned at him hitting all the right spots again. 

“Oh, I’m coming.” He said one last time before you felt him coming deep inside you, hot spurts of white semen filling your insides.

He pulled out gently and pushed himself back to his briefs while you lay on your desk, catching your breath.

“Don’t worry, doll.” He chuckled. “There will be plenty time for you to do that after I’m done with you.”

[nezoid]

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The George Lucas Talk Show with Brendan Hines, Tatiana Maslany, Rich Sommer, and Earl at Dynasty Typewriter. 👏🎉☺️

[mattsstarlet]

bsf!matt makes reader demonstrate what she learned away in college.

contains: smut (no p in v), oral (male receiving), bigdick!matt, pet names, suggestive language.

note: my gift to you guys, merry christmas eve. thank you so much for 500 followers, it means a lot to me :)

“such a naughty girl you are, bunny.” matt muttered, caressing your cheek as you looked up at him through those big round eyes of yours, filled with need and desperation. the two of you hadn't seen each other since summer, with him living in los angeles and you going to college. now on christmas break, your best friend had you on your knees, your face resting against his thigh.

“so eager to show me what you learned, huh? go on then, baby, take my dick out.” he cooed, grinning as your hands made a beeline toward his zipper. you pulled down his jeans, kitty licking his cock through the remaining fabric. matt grunted, tugging on a fistful of your hair, “you like bein’ a tease? be a good girl, or you ain’t gettin’ my cock.”

you giggled, hooking your manicured nails into the waistband of his boxers, dragging it down to meet the denim fabric pooled around his ankles. “good. knew you could be such an obedient girl.” 

your mouth drooled at the sight of his veiny cock; it was angry, glistening with precum on his pink tip—he was also super lengthy, something a few college boys lacked. chewing on your plush lip, you wrapped a hand around him, stroking him at a slow pace. “never seen a big dick, bunny? at all?” he mocked almost like he can see the wheels turning in your pretty head, grinning from ear to ear. “well, lucky me, glad to be your first.” 

“s'okay, baby… jus' show me what else you do after this step," he said, running a hand down your hair, a small groan leaving his lips as you kissed his tip, swirling around his precum with your tongue. 

your innocent gaze flicked up towards him as you wrapped your glossed lips around his shaft, taking him inch by inch. you bobbed your head, hollowing your cheeks as you sucked him. slurping his dick, your chin was covered with your saliva, dripping down onto the floor. 

ecstatic pleasure was written all over his face, making your pussy ache with need and attention. he reached forward, gathering your hair into a makeshift ponytail and following your rhythm. “y’always get this messy, rabbit? or is it because i can’t fit, hm?”

his dirty talk had your panties drenched; both of your hands were occupied. one was stroking what couldn't fit, and the other went to his heavy balls, massaging the skin. “you’re such a bad girl, bun. y'gonna make your best friend cum in your mouth.” 

matt’s cock twitched as you glanced up at him through your sticky lashes. he tugged on your hair, face-fucking you as he used your mouth to get himself off. “shiiit, baby.” 

his hips bucked forward as he painted your throat with his cum, groaning as he felt you choking on his size. taking his cock out, your cheeks were stained with dripping mascara. he smirked as he saw the drooling mess your chin was.

matt chuckled as he wiped your teary eyes. “m' gonna have fun using you, rabbit.” 

© 𝗆𝖺𝗍𝗍𝗌𝗌𝗍𝖺𝗋𝗅𝖾𝗍

[covenofagatha]

'tis the damn season

You're in town for the holidays for the first time in seven years and you run into your old girlfriend.

Word count: 5100

Warnings: sex, fingering, oral, thigh grinding, angst

It’s been seven years since you’ve been back in Westview. 

And yet, as you drive back down the roads in the town where you grew up in, it seems like nothing has changed at all. 

You moved away after college to chase your dreams of becoming an actress in Los Angeles, leaving behind very little here. 

It had worked out; you had landed some roles in TV shows and movies, and you hadn’t been back since. 

Your parents had come to see you for most of the holidays wherever you were filming, and the years had just flown by. But this December, you had no projects in the works and they had begged you to come home. 

So you agreed. 

One day before Christmas, you pull up to the two-story house where you spent your entire childhood through college years. The outside lights are on, like they always were when you would get home late or go for a run or bring friends over. You used to joke that it was because your parents didn’t want you forgetting which house was theirs, but now you know it’s because they wanted to make sure you always knew to come back. 

“Yoohoo,” you hear someone behind you say. You turn around as you’re unloading your suitcase from the car to find Sharon Davis, the widow who lives next door standing there, looking pleased as ever. 

“Mrs. Davis,” you greet pleasantly. She holds her arms out to you and you step willingly into her embrace. The older woman had been your babysitter when you were younger and you remember the plates of freshly baked cookies she always had. 

She pulls back and gives you the once-over, squeezing your biceps. “Well, just look at you, hon. A movie star! How exciting.”

You chuckle and tug on your earlobe, a habit you’ve always had when people compliment you. “Thank you. So, how have you been? How are things here?” 

“Oh, things have been good,” Sharon says, waving her hands. “They built a new school, and that old diner? They tore it down!” 

“No,” you gasp, not really sure which one she’s talking about. 

Mrs. Davis nods like your mock outrage is the appropriate level. “And – oh, what was that girl’s name?”

Your brows crinkle. “What girl?” 

“You know, the one you used to hang out with,” she says, snapping her fingers, and you get a sinking feeling in your stomach. “Amelia…Abby…Addison…” 

“Agatha?” You offer, knowing that’s exactly who she’s thinking of. Your heart beat picks up.

She points at you. “Yes, Agatha! Well, I didn’t think anything of it until I saw you just now, but she’s been out and about with that Rio Vidal lady. Between you and me, I thought you and her made a better pair. Say, whatever happened with you two?” 

Your jaw clenches so hard you think you might crack a tooth. But thankfully, this is the exact moment when your parents decide to open the door and shout your name. 

“Happy Holidays, Mrs. Davis,” you say hastily, turning towards your mom who throws her arms around you. Now that you think about it, you haven’t seen them in close to a year. 

When she finally lets go of you, you give your dad a hug, and then your mom pulls you back in again. You let her, secretly glad to be home. 

“Well, just look at you,” your mom says, tutting. “Do they even feed you in LA? Come on in, I’ve put on a roast. Stan, grab her suitcase.” Your dad does as he’s told, and you give Mrs. Davis a weak wave, her words still echoing in your head. 

You’re ushered through the front door and to the kitchen table, to the seat that you had claimed as yours all those years ago. The house still looks exactly the same, the pictures, the macaroni art you made in third grade, the first place in the spelling bee certificate hung on the fridge. 

It almost makes you tear up, the amount of history they kept. You can hear the thud of your suitcase hitting the stairs as your dad brings it up to your room and your mom busies herself with setting the table, and you feel a longing pang in your chest for how things used to be. 

In elementary school, you’d run downstairs while your mom chased you around with your clothes and your dad would catch you before both of them walked you to the bus stop. They’d pick you up there too, always together, and you would peer over the countertop to get a glimpse of what your mom was making for dinner. 

In middle school, your dad would be tapping his foot by the front door waiting for you to finish texting and eating breakfast so he could drop you off. Your mom picked you up and then you would all sit in front of the television after dinner and catch up on whatever reality TV show you were watching. 

In high school, you would scarfe down a bagel and rush out of the house, pressing a quick kiss to both of their cheeks. You’d come home and sit at the table, doing homework until late at night, while your dad would do the crossword and your mom would work on her latest sowing project next to you. 

In college, they would give you your space, never prying too much and always having a home-cooked meal if you wanted one. When you started bringing Agatha home, they treated her like she was their second daughter. You would joke that they loved her more than they loved you, and you still remember how Agatha would wink at them, like it was their little secret. 

And then bitterness rises up in you at Mrs. Davis’s words. Rio Vidal? You don’t care who she’s with now, it’s been seven years, but you don’t want to hear about it. If you really cared that much, you would’ve just asked Agatha.

You had known her since your first day of third grade when she had moved to town. She sat next to you and you became fast friends when you offered her your green marker during a coloring project. 

The two of you had only grown closer through the rest of elementary school, middle school, and high school. 

One day, in the middle of senior year, she had started going out with this girl from your Biology class and you didn’t know why you were so jealous. You thought it was just because you were her best friend and you felt like she was replacing you, but then she took her shirt off in front of you while changing for volleyball practice, and your mouth went dry. 

Oh. 

You weren’t jealous because you were her friend. You were jealous because you were in love with her.

It was hard not to be, with her long hair and blue eyes and her easy smile, her entire personality, the way she would look at you like you were the only one in the world. 

Her and the girl broke up, and you couldn’t hide how happy you were about it. But you had never imagined she would like you back, until one night, the two of you were laughing so hard you were almost crying in your bed around midnight, when she had suddenly leaned in and kissed you. 

Immediately you kissed her back and she ended up holding a hand over your mouth while she fingered you that night in your childhood bed so your parents wouldn’t hear you. 

You had asked her to be your girlfriend the next day, and a month later, she told you that she loved you. You said it back with no hesitation at all, knowing that she was the first person you ever meant it to. 

And things were really good for the next four years. You’d gone to the same college, both of you living at home, and still found lots of time to hang out. 

But you were a theater major in college, and things were really starting to go right for you. Agents had been in touch, asking you to fly out to all these places around the US. It was your dream. But Agatha was here, and she had to take care of her parents. She hadn’t even asked you to stay, knowing that it was always your goal to make it out of Westview. Still, you considered it, not wanting to leave her. 

The decision tore you apart, but you ultimately chose to go. 

You told Agatha that maybe you could do long-distance, and you would fly back whenever you could, and you could fly her out to see you, but nothing was ever the same after that. 

There was a disconnect between you now, an ache in both of you, and you knew it was all your fault. She turned cold, colder than the New Jersey winter, and she didn’t even come to say goodbye when you left for the airport the last time you were here. 

You’re happy she moved on, you tell yourself. It’s been seven years. You’ve “moved on,” dated your fair share of stars, leaving a trail of broken hearts down the road. You weren't sure what was wrong with you, and why you couldn’t feel the same toward anyone else though. 

Your mom puts down the plate of food in front of you, the scent making your mouth water. It’s been too long since you’ve had a meal like this and you immediately dig in, the warmth helping you feel a little better about Agatha. 

After dinner, you’re helping your parents clean up in the kitchen when your dad suddenly slaps his hand to his forehead. 

“I forgot to get a pie crust for tomorrow,” he groans. On Christmas, it’s always been a family tradition to bake a pumpkin pie. 

“Oh, don’t worry, dad,” you say, swiping your keys from the bowl on the island. “I’ll run to the store and get one before they close.” Before they can protest, you’re getting in your car and starting the familiar drive to the grocery store five minutes from your house. 

You’re browsing the aisles, picking up the crust and seeing if there’s anything else you might need, when you hear a cart behind you. You automatically step closer to the shelves so they can pass, but the wheels stop right next to you. 

“Hey there, superstar,” a voice says, a voice that you haven’t heard in seven years, except in your dreams. It’s the same pet name that had been thrown in your face scathingly when you’d chosen LA, but now, there’s a certain fondness to it. 

Before you even turn, you know exactly who you’ll find. “Agatha,” you breathe, taking the woman in. She looks exactly the same, except for a few more lines on her forehead. Time has treated her very well and your heart hurts. She’s wearing a red dress and her long hair is flowing over her shoulders. 

She gives you a soft smile. “Welcome back.” 

“Oh, thanks,” you say, clearing your throat. “Um, how are you? How have you been?” 

She nods. “Not too bad. What about you? How long are you in town for?” The awkwardness hangs over your heads like a sword about to fall. 

“Just for a few days. I’m leaving on the 26th. I had Christmas off though, so thought I would come stop by for a bit. Good to see things haven’t changed around here,” you try to joke, but it falls flat. 

“Well, good to see you,” she says and starts to push her cart but you grab onto it, desperation sinking her claws into your body. You refuse to let her walk away. 

Agatha raises an eyebrow and you quickly let go. “Do you want to maybe, like, get a drink or something? Catch up?” You ask, trying to keep the pleading tone out of your voice but it leaks out anyway. 

She chews on her lip and you want to cry. You haven’t realized how much you’ve missed her until now. “Okay,” Agatha says finally and you feel a weight lifted off you. “Let me get a few more things. Where do you want to go?” 

“How about I just get a six pack and we go sit in my driveway? Like old times?” You know it’s a lot, but you just want to feel like you’re twenty-one with her again. 

But she nods. “Yeah, sure. I’ll meet you there.” You bite the inside of your cheek before you can say something stupid about how she still remembers where you live. 

You get the beers and the pie crust and drive home, wiping your palms on your jeans every so often. You don’t know why you’re so nervous. It’s just like meeting up with any of your old friends. You’ve known her since you were about eight years old.

It’s only about five minutes before Agatha pulls into the driveway next to you and turns off her car. You swallow hard before unlocking your door so she can slide into the passenger seat next to you. 

“So, superstar,” she drawls, using her keychain to pop off the top to the beer bottle that you hand her. You wince preemptively at the name, worried that she’s going to cut deep. “How’s LA?” 

An exhale slowly escapes you and you launch into telling her the same things you tell everyone about your recent projects and the people you’ve worked with and how one time on set, you kept saying a word wrong and you ended up having to do thirty-seven takes before the director finally changed the script. 

Agatha hangs onto every word, sipping her beer but never breaking eye contact. When you’re finally done talking, she puts her hand on yours and it makes you gasp. “How are you?” She asks, and it makes you falter.

“I just told you–” 

She cuts you off. “Come on. I know you better than that. Do you give that speech to anyone who asks? Don’t tell me what you think I want to hear, tell me how you’re really doing. I can tell when you’re not okay.” 

It’s like a punch to the gut to realize that Agatha still knows you better than anyone else does, maybe even better than you know yourself. “Oh,” you say, voice croaking and you blink fast. “It’s a little lonely, if I’m being honest.” It’s the first time you’ve ever admitted it out loud. 

In the past seven years, you’ve sailed through relationships, both romantic and platonic. Girlfriends never stuck around or you pushed them away, while friends were fair-weathered and only wanted to hang out because you’re famous. 

Agatha never cared about any of that. You find yourself wondering what if you had stayed more than you’d like to admit. It seems like something was always going to bring you back to her. 

Her face softens and she squeezes your hand. “I’m sorry.” 

You give her a wry smile. “Don’t be. I chose it. I left. I left y-” Your voice breaks before you can say that you left her.

“No,” she shushes, and she cups your cheek to wipe the tear you didn’t even realize was falling. “You got out. That’s what you always wanted. I was so angry back then, but it’s okay now. I should’ve tried to stay in touch.”

“I could’ve come back,” you say but she shakes her head. 

“It’s in the past. We can call it even now if you want,” she says and you laugh, finally getting some semblance of closure. 

You nod and hiccup and her lips tug up into the smile you’ve missed so much. “Yeah, I’d really like that.” 

And then the next thing you know, her mouth is on yours and her hands are grappling at your waist to get you into her lap over the center console. You hit your knee on the gear shift and hiss in pain, but then her tongue is sliding against yours and you couldn’t care less about anything besides her. 

Seven years of yearning and pain are poured into the kiss and you can feel all the unspoken words flowing between you. She takes off your shirt, meaning you have to break away for a second. But it’s too long and you kiss her ferociously again to make up for it and all the other times you could’ve had her lips on you but didn’t. 

She digs her nails into your waist and you whimper, rolling your hips against her lap, feeling more alive than you have in forever. Her hot breath is panting into your mouth and your teeth clash and it’s so messy, but it’s absolutely perfect. 

Your fingers entangle into her long hair and she unbuttons your jeans but you pull back. Her eyes widen like she’s afraid she did something wrong. “Inside,” you whisper and she chuckles. 

“Just like old times,” she agrees and opens the door so you can step off and drag her upstairs, still shirtless. Your parents have gone to bed so you drop the pie crust off in the kitchen and carefully pull her up the stairs. She pushes you against the wall when you’re halfway up and claims your swollen lips with her own and she has to swallow your moan when she fits a thigh between yours. “Gotta be quiet, babe,” she reminds you and you want her to just fuck you right there. 

But you know that would be dangerous, and you don’t want your parents to catch you and Agatha again (the one time they did was mortifying) so you reluctantly push her back and lead the way to your bedroom. 

It’s the first time you’ve been back in it and you momentarily lose yourself in reminiscing about the trophies on your dresser and the stuffed animals on the bed and the pictures from all the shows you acted in throughout your youth. 

“They didn’t touch a thing, did they?” Agatha remarks, also remembering clearly what your room used to look like. 

You can still see hers in the back of your mind if you try and wonder how much it’s changed since you last saw it. 

Agatha advances on you, pulls you back in for a bruising kiss, sucks your bottom lip into her mouth. 

“Wait,” you say, a strand of saliva connecting your mouth to hers and her eyes darken. “What about Rio?” 

You don’t know much about Rio, only that she was in your grade in middle and high school. She was more of the wallflower type, intense and brooding and introverted. And weird. 

Agatha laughs breathlessly. “How’d you hear about that?” 

“Mrs. Davis,” you say and Agatha’s brows furrow. 

“Who?” 

You roll your eyes. “My neighbor? Remember, she would always bring cookies for the holidays? She said you’d been ‘out and about’ with Rio.” 

Agatha snorts. “Yeah, like once or twice. Nosy neighbor isn’t a good look for her. But I promise you, I’m not with Rio. Or with anyone else.” 

And that’s good enough for you to drag her back into a kiss and she walks you backwards, hands traveling up your bare back to unclasp your bra, until your thighs hit the bed. She pushes you down and kneels in front of you and your breath hitches. 

You forgot what a pretty sight Agatha on her knees for you was. 

You help her unbutton your jeans and you shimmy them off and she mouths at your pussy over your underwear. Your head falls back at the feeling. 

It’s been so long since you’ve had sex that simply making out with Agatha has you already dripping. 

Or maybe it’s just the fact that it’s her. 

“God, I missed you so much,” Agatha groans against you and her hot breath makes you whimper. 

You sit up on your elbows so you can watch her slide off your underwear and then she drags her tongue slowly through your folds. 

“Fuck, Agatha,” you whine when she swirls your wetness around your clit and you reach down to grip her hair. 

She scrapes her teeth against your inner thigh in the way that always had your hips bucking and this time is no different. “Shh, superstar. Unless you want your parents interrupting.” 

You nod and bite down on your lip as she resumes eating you out. She remembers every single thing that makes you tick: how to lick up inside you and curl her tongue to hit that spot and then suck on your clit and rake her nails down your thighs. She goes slowly at first, like she’s getting reacquainted with your pussy, but then she loses herself in the taste and her small noises of pleasure only add fuel to the fire growing inside your stomach. 

Agatha starts sloppily devouring you, trying to lap up every drop of your wetness, and your hips are grinding up and down on her face, chasing the intense pleasure you haven’t gotten in seven years. 

No one else came close to making you feel how she did. 

“Agatha,” you moan quietly and she sucks roughly on your clit, thrusting two fingers in and twisting them roughly and it sends you spiraling over the edge. Your mind goes white and you can’t think for a good minute as she continues to slowly fuck you through the aftershocks. 

She settles back onto her heels, face glistening with your wetness and the biggest smirk, and you yank her to you by the hair and lick it off her. And then you shove her over so she’s laying on the bed and you climb on top of her, positioning your weight on an arm next to her head. 

You lean down and kiss her softly while your other hand pushes up the hem of her dress and cups her over her underwear. You gasp when you feel how absolutely soaked they are. 

“Did the girls in LA fuck you that well?” Agatha asks smugly, still trying to regain some control even though she’s under you. 

You pretend to think about it for a moment, tracing her slit through the cloth and watching Agatha’s face contort with pleasure. “Hmm, not really,” you answer honestly. You push her panties to the side and gather her wetness with two fingers. “And how about Rio?” 

A teasing glint lights up in her eyes but when she opens her mouth to answer, you press those fingers into her and a groan comes out instead. You start slow and build up into a faster pace, also remembering exactly what she liked. 

When you feel her walls flutter around you, you rub her clit with your thumb and she clenches tightly, a strangled gasp tearing itself from her throat. You curl and scissor your fingers and squeeze a third one in on a particularly harsh thrust and her body jerks. Her hair is fawned out on your pillow underneath her head and you almost lose focus while thinking about how beautiful she is. 

“There we go, superstar,” she keens when you drop your head and start to suck kisses into her neck, wanting to leave a mark. You’re leaving in two days and you want her to still see the proof of what you did to her after you’re gone. 

You nibble at the skin half covered by her dress until she takes the hint and pulls down the top so she can take her breasts out, not even bothering to take off her bra, and you roll her nipple on your tongue. She gasps when you tug at it with your teeth and you can feel her throb around you. 

“Fuck, babe, I’m so close,” she says and it’s the old pet name in that desperate tone that makes you find the extra energy to fuck her even harder. 

She cums all over your fingers with your mouth on her boob and she tugs you in for a hot, filthy kiss. When you pull out of her, she takes your fingers into her mouth and sucks them clean and you feel the heat in your gut come back. 

But you flop on the bed next to her and she wraps an arm around you, running a hand through your hair. 

“I really have missed you,” she says and it almost hurts you how sweet it is. You smile and try not to cry. 

“I’ve missed you so much. I wish I didn’t have to go back so soon,” you say wistfully, part of you hoping that she asks you to postpone. 

But she just looks down at your lips and back up to your eyes. “You should come back more. I’m not saying that we have to…you know, or anything, but it would be nice to stay in touch.” 

You know that it would be just as unfair and selfish for you to ask her to wait for you as it would be for her to ask you to stay for her. So you nod and don’t ask for anything.

“Yeah, I can do that,” you say hoarsely and she cuddles against you even tighter. 

Sleep comes faster than it has in years and when you wake up, you see that it’s almost 11 am on Christmas. You also can’t remember the last time you slept in this late. Agatha is still sleeping, curled around you like the cutest koala. Her warmth radiates off her and heats you up. 

“Aggie,” you whisper, shaking her. Her eyes blink open and she gives you a lazy smile. 

“I’ve missed waking up like this,” she rasps and there’s no denying the way your cheeks burn. She must see it too because she pulls you closer and allots her thigh between yours, guiding you with a hand on your hips. 

You’re already needy, but you don’t know how much longer before your parents bring it upon themselves to get you out of bed. “Agatha, it’s late–” 

“Better be quick then,” she teases and forces you down harder against the muscles in her leg. She flexes and sounds spill out of your mouth. “Yeah, superstar, just like that. You’re doing so well for me, babe, you look so nice and pretty riding my thigh like that.” 

The memories from last night, the dirty words, the way she feels under you, and the fact that you’re having sex with Agatha has you cumming all over her leg in no time. 

You get out of bed and attempt to find some nicer clothes to put on to go open presents with your family while Agatha lounges in your bed. 

“What time do you leave tomorrow?” She asks. 

“We’re going to the airport around ten. Flight leaves at noon. What are you doing tonight? I might be able to get out for a bit after Christmas dinner.” 

“Still making the pumpkin pie?” She asks and you smile and nod. She had come over for quite a few dinners and helped you make them. “Um, tonight my niece and nephews are coming into town. So I don’t think I’ll be able to get out. What about tomorrow morning?” 

You frown. “My parents are going to take me out for brunch. I’m sure they’d be okay if you came, though.” 

“I know you don’t get to see them often, I don’t want to impose.” 

And for the first time since the grocery store, there’s the awkwardness again. You can’t help but think about where the two of you would be if you had stayed. You wouldn’t have the money or the fame or the experiences, but you’d have a simpler life, a life with the woman you think you’ve always loved. 

It would be enough, right now. 

“Well,” you say finally. “I’ll make more of an effort to come back when I can. It would be good to see my parents, too. And I can give you my personal number. Maybe you can come and see me sometimes as well.” 

“I’d really like that,” Agatha says and you believe her. She grabs her phone from the nightstand and you punch your number in and call yourself so you have hers too. She didn’t change her number. “Can I go out the front door or do I need to sneak out the window like I used to?” 

You laugh at the memories of her climbing the pergola to knock on your window in high school after your parents would go to bed. 

“I think we can try and sneak you out the front door if you want,” you say and she grins. She finally climbs out of your bed and straightens herself up in the vanity while you try not to stare at the marks littering her chest and boobs. 

The two of you quietly step down the hallway and down the stairs and you’re almost to the front door when you hear footsteps. 

“Stan, I think she’s finally awake,” you hear your mom say, voice getting louder as she rounds the corner and she gasps loudly. “Oh my goodness, Agatha! Stan, come look who it is!” 

“She came and stopped by,” you attempt to lie, but your mom shoots you a knowing look and pulls Agatha into a hug. 

“Oh, hey, kiddo! Haven’t seen you in awhile,” your dad says, embracing Agatha once your mom has had her fill. “Do you want to join us?” 

Agatha glances at you and you give her a tight-lipped, pleading smile and she softens. “I would love to, but I should really be getting home. I have some family coming and I need to be there when they arrive.” 

Your parents titter about how it’s a shame and go back into the kitchen. You open the door and step outside with her. 

“I guess this is it,” you say, trying to hide how much it hurts. The first time, she didn’t even come and say goodbye to you, but somehow this feels worse. 

She throws her arms around you tightly and you burrow into her, breathing in her cinnamon scent. “I’ll see you soon though. Let me know when you land tomorrow.” 

You almost tell her that you still love her, but instead you just agree. She pulls back and presses a light kiss to your lips and then she walks away to get into her car. 

She waves at you as she pulls out of the driveway and you stand out there on the porch freezing until you can’t see her anymore. 

But you have her back now, even if it’s just a little part. 

And that’s more than enough for you right now.