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thealtoduck · 5 months ago

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Dally

Jason Todd x Male Reader

Warnings: Smut, anal sex, bottom!Reader, top!Jason, rough sex, unprotected sex, blowjob, fingering, doggy style, porn with plot, size kink, you and Jason are both kinda tipsy, Jason is aftercare king, you and Jason are unkowingly filmed, angst ending…

N/n = Nickname

The Socialite and The Vigilante | Masterlist

Summary: You and Jason get tipsy at an event and go back to your place…

(A/n: No. 1 Hoe Anthem)

——

One of the mayoral candidates, Mr Stone, had invited the Gotham Elite for what he called ”a celebration of Gotham’s greatest”. But from what you’d heard his campaign was running low on funds and he wanted to sweet talk all the people with deep pockets.

Whatever the reason may be you were now stuck there amongst the crowd of ”Gotham’s greatest”. You’d preferred to not go but according to your mother it’d be improper to ditch such an event and in her own words ”You have to go cause I don’t want to, I can’t stand that man”.

So you sacrificed yourself to spend the evening at the party… plus Jason had been forced to go along with his family and you promised you’d keep him company.

You watched as Jason entered in the company of his family, he was dressed in a black suit, giving him a dark and luxurious look. He and his family were greeted by Mr Stone.

While Bruce spoke to Mr Stone, Jason looked around the crowd of black suits and evening dresses until his eyes met yours and a soft smile appeared on his face. Once Mr Stone left them to enjoy the party Jason made his way to you.

You were stood in a corner looking at nice sculpture when Jason approached you. ”No tie?” he asked noticing you substituted a tie with a thin sliver chain necklace. ”Never been the biggest fan of ties, Jay, you know that” you stated in a your more upper class tone that tended to come out at these types of events.

”Well, you look great” Jason said grazing his hand against yours slightly. ”You too” you said adjusting his hair slightly. ”I’ll go get us some drinks” Jason said, soon coming back with two glasses of champagne, handing you one.

He then lowered his hand in his pocket bringing out a hip flask, pouring some of the contents in his own glass before offering ”Whiskey?”. Making you let out a small laugh before holding your glass out to him, saying ”If you insist”.

You and Jason mostly kept to yourselves through the party. You listened to Mr Stone’s speech talking about how good his campaign was going but made sure to add that it does take it’s toll on him, his workers and his family. But most of all to his wallet, he had joked making light polite laughs sound out in the room.

You and Jason found a table to relax at, sipping your drinks. The event was quite the bore, the music was dull, the decorations were plain, even the champagne on it’s own felt tasteless. You were lucky Jason had brought the flask.

Soon you and Jason were joined by Mr Stone himself. ”Mr Todd, Mr St. Cloud, enjoying yourselves?” he asked, you put on a polite smile and said ”Of course, it’s quite the event you’ve put together, Mr Stone”.

”Thank you, what a shame your mother couldn’t come” Mr Stone said. ”Yeah, she really wanted to but she wasn’t feeling well, but she wishes you luck with the mayoral campaign” you lied, your mother had said nothing of the sort, you were just being polite.

”You boys are old enough to vote now, right?” Mr Stone mentioned, you and Jason shared a look, you’d both been waiting for the topic to come up. ”Yes, we are” Jason answered and you nodded. ”Well, I hope this party has helped convince you who to vote for” he suggested followed by a lighthearted chuckle.

You did your best to not roll your eyes and said with a smile ”Of course, Mr Stone, you have our support”. ”You bet, Mr Stone” Jason said in a fake cheery tone. Mr Stone then said goodbye leaving you and Jason, your expression immediately turned to disgust as Mr Stone was out of sight.

”I hate him” Jason stated, followed by you saying ”Me too”. ”Let’s get some more champagne and then get out of here” you told him, he nodded in agreement and the two of you went to the drink table. Jason emptied the last of his whiskey in to your glasses and you drank.

Once you’d both finished 2 more glasses each you made your way towards the exit, you called your chauffeur to pick the two of you up. As soon as the two of you came out on sidewalk Jason loosened his tie and you took off your suit jacket.

Soon a familiar car pulled up in front of you and you and Jason climbed in the backseat. ”You wanna come back to my place or do you need a ride elsewhere?” you offered him, Jason smiled. ”Think I’ll join you” he said placing a hand on your thigh.

You leaned in against Jason’s shoulder, as the chauffeur started driving towards your apartment building.

Luckily for you the traffic was good enough for you to be home in a short while, you and Jason stepped out of the car and you thanked your chauffeur before making your way up to your apartment on the top floor.

As you stood in the elevator, Jason’s hand once more grazed against yours, this time your fingers intertwined. When you reached the top floor, you stepped out of the elavator to your door and you unlocked it.

You and Jason entered the penthouse, taking of your shoes. You threw your suit jacket aside and led the way towards the stairs, closely followed by Jason.

You started unbuttoning your shirt as you entered your bedroom, turning to Jason who looked curious where this was going. You threw your button up aside and stepped closer to him, you unbuttoned his suit jacket and pushed it off his shoulders letting it drop to the floor.

You then pushed your lips to Jason’s, while he snaked his arms around your waist as you started to hungrily make out. You then started unbuttoning Jason’s shirt revealing his athletic chest. You started lowering yourself to your knees as you placed kisses down his abs.

Until you were on your knees in front of him, you undid Jason’s belt and pulled down his pants letting them fall to his ankles. Jason had grown hard, his bulge noticable in his tight white briefs. You pulled down his underwear setting his big legth free.

His hard dick pointed to your face. When Jason looked down the sight gave him a sense of satisfaction, you half naked ready to suck his cock. You started taking Jason’s member in to your mouth, teasing the tip with your tongue.

Jason let out a small breath as you started taking more of him in to your warm mouth. You soon started moving your head back and forth on his cock. Jason’s mouth hung open as you went down on him.

”Fuck, you’re perfect” he said holding the sides of your head, using every bit of restraint to not start thrusting in to you. You worked your tougue on his dick, licking up and down his shaft.

When Jason looked down the sight alone could make him spill his load. You with his thick cock stuffed in your mouth, shining with your saliva on it. Before you could make him cum he pulled out of your mouth.

”Your turn, rich boy” Jason said teasingly, you raised an amused eye brow at him.

He then helped you up from the floor. He let his unbuttoned shirt fall to the floor and stepped out of his pants and underwear that were pooled around his ankles. He then undid your belt before pushing you backwards on to your bed.

You spread your arm out on the silk white sheets feeling as if you were laying down on a cloud. Jason then started pulling your pants down your legs. You seductively pulled off your own white briefs before throwing them at Jason, hitting him in the chest.

Now you were left wearing nothing but your silver necklace and a pair of white socks. Jason took a moment to take in the pornographic sight in front of him and then climbed on to the bed and your naked bodies tangled together as you made out lustfully.

Jason’s hand trailed all the way down your back to your butt. He didn’t waste any time bringing his finger between your cheeks and pushing it inside you making you moan while your mouth was pressed to his.

He used his fingers to work you loose and open so you’d be ready to take all off him. Once he was done he pulled out a bottle of lube from you nightstand pouring a generous amount on his huge shaft.

You positioned yourself face down - ass up wanting Jason to take you like a bitch. Jason stood on his knees in front of your awaiting hole as he rubbed the lube along his length. He teased your hole with the thick tip of his cock as you whined in to the sheets impatiently.

And who was Jason to say no to a slut in need of filling.

He started working his in to your tightness as you gasped at the intrusion. He pushed himself deeper and deeper into your warmth feeling you clench around his cock. ”That’s nice” he whispered at the feeling of you tightly around his manhood.

Jason wasn’t a small man, he was hung like a horse. You let out heavy breaths as Jason slowly sunk himself in to you, streching you out even further than he’d done with his fingers. He said praises to you, watching you beneath him as his cock entered you inch by inch.

Once he had sheathed himself inside you he waited for you to adjust to the size of him. You gripped the soft sheets of the bed as you were streched out to accept Jason’s hung cock. ”Fuck” you swore.

Soon you were ready to take all of him. Jason started moving slowly as pushed himself in and out of your tightness. His hands were placed on the globes of your ass squeezing them softly in his strong hands.

You were starting to get the feeling of bliss everytime Jason was fully stuffed inside you, making you moan as he worked your ass perfectly. ”Harder Jay” you said wanting him to take you to ecstasy.

”That’s all I needed to hear, baby” Jason said with an audible smirk as he willfully obliged and sped up his thrusts, rolling his hips like a machine. He put a hand on your back pressing you in to the matress as he took you. The sound of his thrusts starting to sound out through out the room.

You gripped the sheets as Jason thrust deeper in to you, his dick jabbing at your prostate making you let out a delighted scream of pleasure. ”That’s right, N/n, scream for everybody to hear me fucking you” he said cockily.

Jason hadn’t realised until now how much he had been longing to fuck you again after your first one night stand during the party at Wayne Manor.

Jason moved his hand to your hips pulling you to meet his harsh thruts into you. Beads of sweat started forming on his forehead. He wanted you to feel all the pleasures sex could bring.

Jason made you feel as if you were seeing all the stars in the heaven, as his hung cock was shoved deep in your heat. ”So- ugh! Big!” you said through your loud moans. A cocky smile spread on Jason’s lips. He was fucking you so good you could barely talk.

As Jason roughly pounded himself deeply in to you felt yourself getting close to orgasm. ”Jay, I’m gonna cum” you whined as Jason showed no sign of slowing down his rolling thrusts.

Your shot your load and it splashed on to the silk sheets below as Jason continued plowing his cock in to you. ”You’re so fucking good around my cock” Jason said through his rapid breaths as he fully lost control and fucked you like there was no tommorow.

”I’m gonna cum” he soon told you.

”Fill me, Jay” you begged and that was all it took for Jason to plant himself deep in you ass and let his cock explode inside you, filling you with his warm sticky seed. He breathed heavily as he let all of his orgasm spill inside you.

Once he was done he slowly pulled out of you leaving your hole gaping from his cock. His seed soon started pouring out of you, running from your used warmth down your legs. Jason looked proudly at the mess he had made of you before he walked to the bathroom.

Coming back with a wet towel and started cleaning his seed off of your body. Once he was done he threw the towel aside on the floor. You turned around and laid down on your back. Jason sat down by your side and stroked your thigh, asking sweetly ”Can I get you anything? N/n”.

”Could you get my night shirt from the closet?” you asked and Jason immediately stood up looking through your closet until he brought out a glossy white silk night shirt. ”Why is everything you own white silk?” he questioned amused as he helped you put it on.

”Why not?” you simply asked back. You took off your necklace putting it on your bedside table. You and Jason both laid down side by side on your bed. Jason was on his back and you laid your head resting against his pec.

”You were amazing” Jason said placing a kiss on your head. ”You too” you said stroking his abs lovingly.

You both soon drifted off too sleep…

——

2 days later…

You sat with your laptop on your couch checking your emails. Some adds, some social stuff, nothing too intresting. You took a sip of your coffee and as you swallowed a new mail appeared on the screen.

The sender was not listed.

You opened the mail and read ”We have something you might not want to reach the media, Mr St. Cloud” which was all it said. Then you noticed there was a video attached to the mail. You pressed the file and it loaded until a video started playing.

Your eyes widend the video showed a boy getting plowed roughly by his by another guy, but you soon realised this was your bedroom. ”Harder, Jay” your voice came from the video making you gasp in shock. Then came Jason’s voice ”That’s all I needed to hear, baby”.

Someone had hidden a camera in your room filming you and Jason that night. You slammed your laptop shut and rushed upstairs in to your room. Judging by the angle of the video the video had been taken from your bedside table.

You were confused you only had your alarm clock and a bottle of water on the table… Then you noticed it, on the side of the alarm clock was a black spot - no, not a spot a small round camera lens.

You picked up the alarm clock taking a closer look at it to it to make sure. Definetely a lens. Enraged you threw the alarm clock in to the ground making it smash on impact. You stormed out of the room bringing out your phone knowing who you needed to call.

”Hey St. Cloud” Jason answered a flirty tone in his voice.

You could only find one phrase to tell him ”Jay… we’re completely fucked”.

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homoquartz · 2 months ago

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hi!! if you would like to join me in being angry, please consider this new gem of journalism bestowed upon us peasants today:

(Article link is here)

In case you doubt it, yes, that is correct. Major studios will now assemble panels of racists, homophobes, transphobes, and misogynists to dictate how much us squirming pathetic little brown queers get to be represented on screen.

They were already doing this, but now they're comfortable saying it outright. As I have said before, THIS SHOULD ALARM YOU.

This post is long so the rest is below, backed up with data:

Disney is tacitly admitting that they canceled The Acolyte because they would rather alienate their marginalized fanbase than their rabid, genocidal straight white male one. And you can be damn sure this is also why the likes of Netflix and HBO Max are so comfortable discarding highly acclaimed queer shows like Warrior Nun, Our Flag Means Death, the Owl House, and Dead Boy Detectives.

The only shows about marginalized people allowed to go on are the ones that, against all odds, become hit successes (eg Heartstopper), at which point their earning potential outweighs their sin of being brown or gay. I want to emphasize that these shows must be breakout hits - shows that perform on par with straighter, whiter releases aren't given this grace.

These companies are going to obscure the reality of their actions by talking about profits and public image, but rest assured they would find a way to justify this even if the vast majority of viewers were brown and queer. Because it's about maintaining power. It's part of a nationwide surge against inclusion.

Do you remember the IGN article that just came out that revealed Disney's insistence that Riley be made to look "less gay" in Inside Out 2?

Do you remember the Autostraddle article which crunched the numbers to show that queer shows are cancelled more often and earlier than others?

How about GLAAD's breakdown of queer shows cancelled last year? Here's a snippet of the data:

❗️Both Autostraddle and GLAAD have found that 1 in 4 queer shows are axed. This is DOUBLE the rate for streaming shows overall, which is just at 12%.

Variety has a data breakdown here. What's interesting is that Netflix is actually pretty moderate with its cancellations, yet the majority of cancelled queer shows belong to Netflix.

I had a harder time finding data for shows featuring leads of color. If anyone has links, I'll add them here.

In conclusion:

They are banning our books. They are cancelling our shows. They are silencing our stories. You know why.

You can help in a few ways. One is to stream as many cancelled shows centering POC and/or queer people as you can. Another option is to cancel your streaming subscriptions and vote with your wallet (this is what I have done).

There's also a bunch of petitions for cancelled shows I strongly recommend signing. Pick a show and google it plus "petition" and it will turn up.

You can go to Rotten Tomatoes and IMDB and 5-star your chosen shows, as well as each episode.

You can message the streaming services on social media requesting renewal. Reaching out to influencers in spheres related to this topic, as well as media outlets, is also a good idea.

Finally and most importantly, talk to your friends and family. Ask them to do something. Ask them to tell people. The more people who stand against a hateful status quo, the less powerful it becomes.

I believe this can be turned around if we make enough noise. These streaming services should revive their queer shows, market them properly, and support them like any other show.

I sound silly now, but watch this space in two years.

#our flag means death #dead boy detectives #warrior nun #the owl house #shadow and bone #the acolyte

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quintinh43 · 9 months ago

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Heavy Heads and Heavy Hearts | Quinn Hughes

Summary: Quinn gets injured as a game. His girlfriend takes him and cares for him.

Pairings: Quinn Hughes x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Anxiety, Head injury, food, angst, mentions of vomiting (no actual vomiting)

Notes: Hi guyss! Hope everyone is doing ok! Injured Quinn got the most votes, so here we are! This one is the longest one ive done so far, I definitely did not mean for it to be as long as it is but here we are. Also, im not a professionl in any way, so i cant say this is concussion accurate. I just went off of my experience in dealing with athletes that have Concussions, and my own Concussions lol. Anywaysss I hope yall enjoy. Love Soph.

---

There was something so gut-wrenching about watching the man you love get injured. One second, Quinn was cutting quickly around the back of the net, and the next, he was getting slammed into the boards hard. It was nothing. You get hit, you get up, and you keep going. It was simply a part of hockey.

Except this time, Quinn wasn't getting up. He wasn't moving at all. You stand up, heart in your throat. The room feels like it's tilting. The sharp shrill of the refs whistle cut through the air, stopping the play as the refs skate over to where Quinn is lying motionless on the ice.

They are calling for medics. Your head is spinning with the worst possible scenarios as you excuse yourself from your seat and practically sprint to the locker room. One of the security members holds out a hand to stop you.

"Ma'am, you can't be here, please exit this area"

Great. Just fucking great. This is exactly what you need right now. The overwhelming need that aches in your bones demanding to know that Quinn is ok makes you want to cry. Because now this fucker won't let you through. And you're nearly too panicked to do anything about it.

The logical route would be pulling out Quinns wallet, that has his ID in it, and explaining that you are his girlfriend. But with your anxiety high, and your heart in your throat logic is not the first thing on your mind.

"Listen buddy," you start, ready to absolutely rip this guy a new one. Thankfully for him, one of the trainers who knows you happens to be exiting the locker room.

"Let her through, Jace, that's Hughes' girl" he says, waving you forward. The security guard- Jace apparently, lets you pass with a grumble.

By the time you get rink side, Quinn is (half) conscious- thank God, and being half carried off the ice by Petey and Boeser. He's transfered to the care of two medics, who sit him on a bench and begin to check him over.

One of them is asking him questions gently, both to keep him awake and assess the damage to his head. While the other stabilizes his neck. "Can you tell me your full name and today's date?" One of the medics asks.

"Quintin Jerome Hughes," he slurs, eyes fluttering, "its Feb'uary... twenty-second, twenty-twenty-four"

Your breath hitches. He got the date wrong. You can't help the panic that rushes through you. "Good job Quinn, do you know where you are?"

"Van, Roger's arena," he mumbles, "playing hockey"

"Good," the medic hums. "we need to take off your equipment to make sure you aren't injured anywhere else. Is that ok?"

"Y/n" he mumbles, eyes closing and head tilting forward, his head snapped back up a moment later, and if the other medic hadn't had his head stabilized he would probably have mild whiplash.

"Stay awake for us, Quinn. Is Y/n someone you'd like us to call?"

You spring forward at the mention of your name, "I'm here," you say, pushing past a couple of people who are standing around, ready to assist if the situation gets worse.

"My girl" Quinn slurs, his lips tilting into a small smile. Your heart flutters at that. In the midst of his delirium, he still cares about you dearly.

"Hello Y/n, I'm Sam," the guy who's been asking him questions, "and that's Kieran," he says, nudging his head towards Kieran, who gives a small smile.

"Do you think you could help us remove his equipment?"

"Yes absolutely, just tell me what to do" you say, glad that you can help.

"Can you remove his jersey and shoulder pads? Kieran needs to keep his neck stable, and I need to check for any other possible injuries. And keep him talking"

"Yeah, of course," you start by bending his elbow to slide it out of the sleeve of his jersey.

"Hey Quinny" you say softly, sliding his other arm out of his jersey "you played really really good today, I'm so proud of you"

"Thanks baby," he murmers, "glad you're here." He tries to lean his head against your chest, he huffs when Kieran doesn't let him, and you can't help but let out a breathy laugh, patting his head lovingly.

Kieran tilts his head to one side, allowing you to pull the jersey over his head. You deposit it in his cubby behind him and make quick work undoing his shoulder pads and pulling them off gently.

"I'm glad I'm here too. What do you wanna eat when we get home?"

Sam gently asks you to move out of the way so he can check Quinns upper body for injuries. The second you aren't doing something, the anxiety rises back to your chest. You take a deep breath and begin to unlace his skates. You pull them off, slipping a pair of slides on his feet so his socks don't get wet.

"Hmm" he hums in thought "potatos...?"

You laugh, "Alright Quinny. We'll have potatos"

Finally after palpating his whole body to make sure he doesn't have any other major injuries, testing his reflexes, and asking him a bunch more questions. They diagnose him with a minor concussion, and give you a list of things to look out for.

They deem it safe enough to leave you alone with him for a little bit and tell you to change him into something more comfortable. It takes a bit of work to take off his hockey pants and shinguards and get him into a pair of sweats and a hoodie.

By the time you're done, the equipment manager and the medics have collected the rest of his equipment. After making sure his hockey bag is fully packed with everything, you grab his keys from your purse, while the EM helps you bring his bag to his car, and the medic helps you half carry him down.

He can mostly walk on his own, but better safe than sorry. On the ride home he keeps his head resting against the window, a cool compress is wrapped around his neck, and he's holding one over his eyes with one hand, while the other holds yours tightly.

You trace your thumb over the backs of his knuckles soothingly and keep him talking the whole way home. "What kind of potatoes do you want when we get home, Hon?"

"Can I change my mind?" He asks sheepishly. He's still talking very quietly and slurring his words a little, but the medics said that was nothing to worry about unless he started getting worse. So far, it was nothing to worry about.

"Of course my love, anything you want" you bring your intertwined hands to rest on your chest. It's a comforting weight over your heart, that you didn't know you needed until it was there.

Your phone lights up from the cup holder, it's a text from Petey, saying that the Canucks won the game. There are a few other texts, from his parents and brothers. You make a mental note to reply to them as soon as you get Quinn settled at home.

"Can we have noodles?" He mumbles.

"Yes, of course, love." You can't help but kiss the back of his knuckles. Watching Quinn get injured to the point of losing consciousness was not something you ever wanted to experience ever again.

"Your boys won, by the way," you say softly.

"The did?!" Quinns head shoots up front the window, and he is filled with instant regret as a sharp twinge shoots down his neck and to his shoulder.

"Ow fuck" he mumbles, laying his head back against the cool window.

"Careful love," you gasp, squeezing his hand.

"I know, I'm sorry," he mumbles, squeezing your hand back. You sigh, you have been on edge since he got injured, and it didn't look like the anxiety would dissipate for a while. You would just have to deal with it and try not to be an over bearing worry wart.

"You guys won 5-2" you smile, finally pulling into your apartment parking lot.

"I didn't do much except get my brains knocked around" he grumbles. "Some captain I am"

You scoff, flicking him in the nose lightly. "Don't sell yourself short, Quinny. Three of those points are yours."

Quinn wrinkles his nose and leans forward to bite your finger. You yelp, snatching it away with a glare. He sticks his tongue out at you, and you laugh, your chest feeling a little lighter than before.

"Come on, let's get you upstairs. " You say, undoing your seat belt and getting out of the car. You run around to his passenger side and open the door for him, and help him step out of the car. He throws an arm over your shoulder, and you wrap one around his waist. He's not as wobbly on his feet as he was earlier, but he still isn't at full strength.

Quinn squeezes his eyes shut and tucks his face against your hair. The florescent elevator lights were not pleasant in his state. "Can we keep the apartment lights off?" He mumbles against your hair.

"Sure love," you said rubbing your hand up and down his back soothingly, "we're almost home," you fish the keys out of your purse and unlock it. You toe your shoes off at the door while Quinn slips his off easily and you guide him to the couch.

"What do you want first, baby? Food or a shower?"

"I'm not really hungry" Quinn mumbles, laying on the couch and adjusting the ice pack under his neck. You sit on the couch handle, stroking his hair back from his forehead. "I know honey, but we should try to get something light in your system, if you're feeling upto it."

Quinn sighs. He knows you're right. "I can make you toast? Or a sandwich or something?" You offer, smoothing your thumb over his hairline.

"Do we have bagles?" He asks

"Yeah, we have bagles, I'll make you one of those?"

"Yes please," he mumbles, you plant a kiss on his forehead and go pop a bagle into the toaster, "can you do it with cream cheese and jam?" He asks, chewing on his lip nervously.

"Sure, Hon, I'm gonna make myself some tea. Do you want a cup?" You ask as you pull the cream cheese and jam out of the fridge.

"No thanks, I'm ok" he mumbles. After his bagle is done being made, you help ease him into sitting position, and sit next to him with your cup of tea. He eats a bit more than half the bagle, and you finish off the rest before deeming it time to shower.

You remember all the messages from his family, and quickly shoot them texts, saying that he's ok and you just got home and you'll talk more when he gets settled.

"I'm gonna put these back in the freezer while we shower, yeah?"

Quinn nods, handing the ice packs to you to put in the freezer. You help him up slowly and lead him to the bathroom. You keep the lights off and leave the door open so you have a little bit of light from the bedroom.

While the shower warms up, you grab a clean change of clothes for both you and Quinn and set them on the counter before helping Quinn strip. He has to brace an arm against the wall while you hold him steady with one hand and maneuver his clothes off with the other.

"I'm sorry," he murmers against your hair as you help him step into the shower.

"Oh Quinn, there's nothing to be sorry for," you say, sitting him on the shower seat.

"I'm sorry you have to take care of me like this." He huffs, resting his head against the cool Ike of the shower wall, "I feel so pathetic, " his voice cracks, and your heart nearly breaks.

"Quinn, my love, taking care of you is not a burden. It's a pleasure. I love you to the ends of the earth, and I would do anything for you, my sweets. " You kiss him on the forehead sweetly as if to prove your point.

He doesn't say much about it after that, but you can tell he still feels bad. You make quick work of washing his hair, being very careful of where a small bump has formed on his head. You scrub him down and rinse him off before shutting off the water.

You wrap a towel around yourself and then dry Quinn off gently before helping him change into his pajamas. "Let me change and then dry your hair a little bit before we have to put an ice pack on your head, ok?"

Quinn nods. He sits on the counter, leaning against the wall while you change into your pajamas. You plug in the hair dryer and dry his hair, keeping his head steady with one hand. As soon as his hair is no longer soaking wet, you help him off the bathroom counter and into bed. You grab the ice packs from the freezer and help him position them on his head and neck until he's comfortable.

"I'll be back in less than ten minutes, baby. I'm just going to grab your stuff from the car, ok?" You say pulling on a pair of sweats and a hoodie over your pajamas.

"Ok" Quinn mumbles, "I'll call if anything" he says patting his nightstand to make sure his phone is there.

You kiss him on the forehead and pull the bedroom door halfway closed so the light from the hall isn't too bright. Grabbing his car keys and your phone from the counter, you hit the call button on Ellen's contact as you slip out the door.

She picks up on the first ring "Hows he doing?" She asks immediately. She sounds distressed, maybe like she's been crying. You don't blame her. They probably haven't heard anything unless someone on the team contacted them, and you have no idea how bad it looked on TV.

"He's ok, Mrs. H, it's a mild concussion. His symptoms aren't worsening at all, and they said with some rest he'll be significantly better by tomorrow"

Her sigh of relief was unmatched. "He'll be out of play for a couple of weeks, but they just want to make sure he's back to 100% before he's playing again." The elevator finally opens, and you hit the button for the parking garage.

"Thank you so much, Y/n, im glad you're there with him. I know he's in good hands. I'll leave you be love, Jack and luke are super super anxious and would appreciate a call from you. Text me if anything happens."

"I will, Mrs. H, tell Mr. H I say hi"

"I will dear, thanks for taking care of our boy"

"Of course El, he's my boy too," you smile.

You swear you can hear Ellen smile over the phone. "We love you dear, I'll talk to you tomorrow ok. Don't forget to take care of yourself too"

"I will, I love you guys too. I'll text you updates"

"Alright, bye dear."

"Bye," you sigh, pressing the end call button, just as the elevator opens to the parking garage. As you press the button to open the trunk, you call Jack.

"Y/n," he huffs out, not even after a full ring. "How's Quinn? If he ok? What happened?" Before you can answer any of Jacks questions, Luke's voice cuts him off, "is Quinn ok? Are you guys at the hospital? It looked really bad -"

Before their panicked tangents can get worse, you interrupt them both. "Take a breath, you two," you say calmly, breathing exaggeratedly so they can copy you "in and out, relax. Quinn is ok. He's ok"

"He's ok?"

"He's ok" you repeat. You feel the tears start to build, and your voice cracks "He's ok"

"Oh Y/n." Jack says softly.

"It's ok, I'm ok" you say, more to yourself than to Jack as you wipe the tears away. "Hold on, gimme one sec." You say, setting down your phone as you pull Quinn's hockey bag out the car. You close the trunk, make sure the car is locked and head back to the elevator.

"Hi, sorry I'm back. I was just grabbing Quinn's stuff out the car."

"Can you tell us what happened?" Luke asks softly.

"He's got a concussion, and he's a bit bruised up, but other than that he's alright"

"Fuck, how bad is it?" Jack asks, the fear is evident in his voice, and you can't blame him. Concussions can be really bad sometimes.

"They said its a mild concussion, he's not throwing up at all, his memory is ok, he didn't injure his spine or anything, he'll be ok after a few days of rest. He probably wont be playing for a few weeks, but better safe than sorry."

"Oh thank God" both Jack and Luke huffed "isn't he not supposed to sleep for 24 hours after or something?" Luke asks.

You shake your head with a small smile "Thats a myth, Lukey. As long as I check on him every few hours its ok for him to sleep."

"Ohh, ok. Well that's good" Luke says.

"We are glad he has you Y/n, thank you for taking care of our brother."

"Always" you say softly.

"We'll let you go now, keep us updated?"

"I will, Jackie. You two get some rest, you have a big game tomorrow, love you guys"

"We love you too Y/n/n" both boys say, hanging up.

You sigh, leaving his bag at the door. "Y/n?" Quinns weak voice calls out from the bedroom. You rush to him immediately, scared that something is wrong.

"Yes, Quinny, I'm right here" you say kneeling beside the bed, and stroking his hair.

"You took long," he mumbles, pressing his lips against your wrist.

"I'm sorry love, I'm here now," you stand, stripping the hoodie and sweats off and climbing into bed next to him. You stay a little distance away, not wanting to hurt Quinn. But he grumbles at you, tugging on your shirt to get you to come closer. Normally, he would just grab you and pull you closer, but he's still weak.

"I don't wanna hurt you" you mumble, scooting closer so that you are tucked against his side. He tangles your legs together and rests his head against yours.

"Never" he says, pressing his lips to the side of your head. You rest one of your hands on his hip, under his shirt, stroking your thumb over his hip bone.

"How you feeling?" You ask softly.

"Beat" he mumbles "thanks for taking care of me"

"I'll take care of you for as long as you let me love" you say, pressing a gentle kiss to the underside of his jaw.

"Forever?"

"Forever."

---

Wc: 3.1k

#qh43 #quinn hughes #nhl imagine #quinn hughes x reader #quinn hughes x y/n #luke hughes #vancover canucks #jack hughes #hockey #nhl x y/n #nhl x you #nhl imagines #love soph

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thatsleepymermaid · 15 days ago

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People keep wondering how Trump won, but honestly it's relatively easy to see. On top of the far right turn that usually takes place after disasters, there's a few other factors at play. Mainly, inflation.

The average American doesn't have a clue what's going on in their government (state or federal) or around the world. I tried talking to a local about Palestine, and she thought it was another word for Pakistan. Right now the biggest concern I've heard from my neighbors is actually groceries and gas prices.

Biden failed to address inflation, and Harris didn't have a solid plan. Neither did Trump, but Trump did say he was going to decrease prices, and the people in my rural area here remember everything being cheaper in 2017 but not much else. That includes just about every racial group present in my neighborhood. We don't have widespread Internet and most people get the news from satellite TV news, so they are uninformed about most things.

(logistics are tricky for people to keep in mind when their wallets are on the line)

On top of that, Trump promised high tax returns for many income brackets . That extra money looks awfully good if you're struggling to afford groceries right now. Regardless of if he's going to do it or not. (Prices will probably get higher because of the proposed tarrifs). People want to keep their own fed and safe, regardless of foreign affairs or civil rights. The second Trump's team announced their tax return plan I knew he was going to be elected. I'm just surprised I predicted it before Allan Lichtman.

I don't know where this post is going, but don't blame other left-leaning people for voting 3rd party or being pro-Palestine. If you really want to figure out the general consensus among average Americans, talk to your neighbors. Join a local Facebook page. Organize and build community as much as possible. We will need it in these difficult years.

#2024 election #politics #sorry but I've seen too many people baffled #and all you have to do is talk to a white male upper middle class asshole #and everything becomes clear #donald trump #kamala harris

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khaire-traveler · 8 months ago

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🛡️ Subtle Athena Worship 🗡️

Engage in arts and crafts, especially crocheting, weaving, and pottery

Read books you enjoy; try reading The Odyssey

Keep a picture of her in your wallet

Have a candle that reminds you of her (no altar needed)

Wear jewelry that reminds you of her

Have imagery of spears and shields around

Have a snake or owl stuffed animal

Invest in your schooling; studying, doing homework, working hard

Participate in voting, if you can

Try to think outside the box for solutions to problems

Take care of yourself physically, especially with movement or exercise

Dancing to music, especially music that empowers you

Write stories of your own

Learning self-defense, weapons included or not

Bird-watching and star-gazing

Support humanitarian efforts abroad or locally

Drink calming or meditative tea

Meditate out in the sun or under the full moon

Go outside of your comfort zone; try new things that will ultimately be good for you

Play D&D (yes, really)

Take good care of your body; drink lots of water, eat three meals a day, try to eat well, etc.

Practice restraint and patience, especially with people who annoy the shit out of you

Practice standing up for yourself

Assert your boundaries clearly; learn what your boundaries are

Play with your dog or cat, if you have one, especially activities that get you moving, too

Wear clothes that make you feel confident and comfortable

Prioritize your well-being

Cook with olive oil, if able

Make a list of your personal goals; achieve them one step at a time

Celebrate your accomplishments; acknowledge your strengths

Sharpen your mind; play memory or mentally stimulating games

Take regular breaks from screens; be sure to go outside throughout the day for some fresh air

Spend time with loved ones

Drink soothing beverages; herbal teas, hot chocolate, whatever else there is, etc.

Make a list of your passions and actively pursue them

Learn more about yourself; try new hobbies, express yourself in new ways, pay attention to what brings you joy, etc.

Write down quotes you hear and enjoy

May add more later on! For now, this is my list of discreet ways to worship Athena. Hope this is helpful, and take care, y'all! 🩵

Link to Subtle Worship Master list

#athena deity #athena worship #helpol #hellenic polytheism #hellenic pagan #deity worship #paganblr #pagan tips

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stevenose · 11 days ago

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for anonymous - thank you for voting!!! hope you like this hehe <3

contains: love drunk!steve; gender unspecified reader; flirting; s4!steve

He’s practically drooling. If he were someone else, he would call himself pathetic - even if he knows he is. Steve licks his lips, watching you reach high for a tape, your shirt riding up a little.

“Are you serious?”

He can’t hear Robin, or maybe he just doesn’t want to. Loves her, but pretty boy duty calls.

“Steve!”

“Huh?” he finally asks, turning to face her.

“Have you even heard a single thing I’ve said in the last —“ She checks her watch. “Three minutes?”

“You were talking for three minutes?” he asks, startled.

“Oh my God, Steve.” She’s pissed. And he feels bad, but he knows she’ll be fine in five minutes, and probably even better if he fucks up while checking you out at the counter. “You’re such a bonehead.”

He rolls his eyes and looks back at you. You’re looking at him, all amused. He feels so deeply seen, like you shouldn’t even be looking at him, like he doesn’t really deserve the attention.

“Sorry,” you say. Your voice sounds so sweet. “I just haven’t heard someone say ‘bonehead’ in a while.”

“He is,” Robin says flatly.

You smile at him and his knees feel weak. “I’m sure.”

You continue browsing. Robin looks at Steve. “You are a bonehead,” she affirms, grabbing a cart of tapes to put them away.

Steve feels all dizzy. He’s seen hot people in the store, but this is different. You’re straight out of a dream. He doesn’t know how he hasn’t seen you before. You’re about his age, but he doesn’t remember you from high school. Not that three concussions haven’t ruined his memory.

He perks up when you come to check out. Steve has no small talk in his mind for your selections. His brain feels frozen and it reminds him of his time at Scoops a year earlier.

“Do I know you?” he asks. It comes out awkwardly.

“I don’t think so,” you say. “I’m just - I’m here visiting some family, and I have to babysit.” You point at the two animated movies you’d chosen. “So, no, I don’t think so.”

“Babysit?” he says. “I babysit, too.”

You nod. “Okay.”

“Yeah,” he says. Now he’s spitballing. “They’re little shits though. Always dragging me into things I don’t want dragged into. But they’re sweet, I guess. Except one of them.”

You nod politely.

He wants to hang himself with film strips.

“Well, if I need help, I’ll definitely call you.”

Finally, an opening. “You’d need my number to do that, huh?”

Now you’re frazzled. Thank God. “I guess so.”

“How long are you in town for?”

You bite your cheek. “Another week.”

Steve hums. “I say we take our kids, drop ‘em off at the arcade, and head to the movies ourselves.”

You laugh, looking at him like he’s crazy. Your eyes are soft, though, and your smile is genuine. “Seems irresponsible.”

“Self indulgent, maybe.”

You stare at him for a moment longer before realizing you need to pay. You mumble and search your bag for your wallet, sliding a five across the counter. “Sorry,” you say, shaking your head. “I’m a little frazzled.”

“I have that effect on people.” Oh, he’s so back. He grabs your change, slipping it back to you.

“Want your receipt?”

You read between the lines. “Sure.”

He grins and snatches the paper from the register, scrawling his number across the top. He writes his name before realizing he never said it out loud. “Oh! I’m Steve, by the way.”

You give him yours and take the receipt from him. “Nice to meet you.”

He nods, waves as you leave, heart thumping. He collapses against the counter once you’re out of sight, head in his hands.

“A week,” Robin says, startling him. “You gonna have a whirlwind romance or something?”

“Maybe,” he says.

She scoffs. “You’ve been watching too many movies.”

#category: blurbs #the one he doesn’t like is mike btw. i know they beef

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still-searching-for-something · 15 days ago

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What gets me is not that Donald Trump won. It's that he won the popular vote. It's that a majority of American voters said, "Yes, I want this guy as my president."

They deliberately, knowingly decided the fascist, felonious, antidemocratic candidate who'd organized a coup attempt and got away with it needed the presidency. No American voter doesn't know who Trump is. They have no excuse. They knew he stood for antidemocracy.

But he also stood for a stronger economy! Lower gas prices! Cheaper groceries! Lower taxes!

And most Americans decided those things were more important to them than democracy. They've, as a majority, decided democracy < convenience.

"But the real problem was voter turnout and apathy!"

Okay, so then most Americans--85.7 million--either voted for the fascist or couldn't be assed to lift a finger to save democracy, compared to 68 million. 55% of Americans either deliberately chose cheaper groceries over democracy or were too pathetically lazy to give a fuck either way. Much better. It's a human choice to make, to vote for their wallet than their grand abstract ideology, but it's one that hurts all of us, including them, including Ukraine and the EU (and Palestine, for the record!) and all future generations to come. It's a selfish, short-sighted decision that betrays a deep rot in our priorities.

I thought we understood that sometimes, we have to take a hit as a nation to preserve our democracy and our freedoms. Is the same nation that took rationing during the Second World War to defeat the Nazis and the Japanese Empire? That lost hundreds of thousands of men to put down an illegal, treasonous rebellion?

And today, we've decided our rights can be exchanged for cheaper eggs, milk, and butter?

"Oh, Harris ran a bad campaign. She tried to appease everyone which pleased no one. She didn't appeal to the right demographics on the right issues. She dodged questions, she was entitled, she was--"

Yeah, I don't care.

In fact, I agree with you, but frankly, the economic policies and foreign policies and immigration policies and social policies of either candidate are completely fucking irrelevant if one of them doesn't adhere to the basic democratic rule of accepting that democracy's validity and existence. If a vote for one candidate threatens the democratic health of that nation, and a vote for the other--regardless of what other consequences it may have--doesn't, then morally, you have to vote for democratic one.

Is that unreasonable? Maybe. Yeah, Democrats should have run a better campaign more focused on the bread and butter issues people care about. Like Clinton said, 'It's the economy, stupid!' Democrats had a responsibility to run the best campaign they could have, given the stakes.

But that still doesn't justify a vote for antidemocracy. Call me crazy, but I think a vote for authoritarianism is unreasonable. "They were a little patronizing and I want to shave a few bucks off my grocery bill, so I'll vote for the fascist!" is still an unhinged and indefensible conclusion to arrive at, regardless of how valid your claims of being hurt at the cash register or being patronized are.

I've lost any and all faith in Americans. I honestly thought we were better than this. I really did. And I don't know how or if a democracy can function if a majority of its electorate are willing to sacrifice democratic norms for short-term benefits.

Fuck Republicans and every single person who voted against democracy because their grocery bill was too high. May you get exactly the kind of government you deserve and voted for.

#us politics #us elections #politics #american politics #kamala harris #donald trump #2024 presidential election #2024 election #democracy #election 2024

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bambi-slxt · 7 months ago

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🤍𝐒𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐇𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐖𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐘𝐨𝐮🤍

𝕔𝕙𝕣𝕚𝕤𝕥𝕠𝕡𝕙𝕖𝕣 𝕤𝕥𝕦𝕣𝕟𝕚𝕠𝕝𝕠 𝕩 𝕗𝕖𝕞

word count: 2.3k exactly (i'm very proud of myself)

genre/tropes: established friendship, one-sided love (or is it?)

warnings: slight angst

pt two: here

notes from bambi: thank you to everyone who voted for this idea, sorry it came out late please forgive me 🥺

“Can we please get out of here,” Chris grumbled, pulling his beanie down over his face.

“So dramatic.” I tugged my wallet out from under the covers. “Come on.”

“We’re goin’ to Cane's, we’re goin’ to Cane's.”

“You’re chanting again,” I said as I closed the garage door behind us.

He opened my car door, slipping past Matt’s van. “God forbid a man has hobbies.”

“Sure, but you’re not a man.” In true gentleman fashion, he scrunched his nose at me. “Buckle up, weirdo,” I laughed.

We drove in comfortable silence. Darkness had sunken low over Los Angeles, though the city tried its best to keep the light around forever. Apartments glittered up into the night, cars rushed past, and from my speakers, a Travis Scott song thumped rhythmically underneath it all.

As we drove, I rested my left hand atop the steering wheel and touched his arm with my right. Chris looked over with his eyebrows raised. “What’s up?”

“Nothing,” I said, glancing away from the road for a moment to meet his gaze. “I just think you’re cool.”

“Thanks, kid,” he replied with a grin, looking back to the road. Is he shy? There’s no way.

I drove the rest of the way with my hand resting on his forearm, which he had helpfully rested on the center console.

“Who’s paying,” I murmured, turning the car slowly into the parking lot.

“I got it.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah, you drove, it’s fair.”

“Mkay.”

Walking into Cane's was always a religious experience for me. Voices milled around us as college kids found groups of friends and joined tables together, children ran around begging for more lemonade, DoorDashers ran out with food, and order numbers were called out over the fray.

I sighed. “There simply aren’t enough places where I can get good food for less than ten dollars.”

“Facts,” Chris said. “You want the same thing?”

I nodded and laid my head on his shoulder while we waited in line. Normally not the touchy one in our friendship, something felt different about tonight, I felt different–more open, relaxed. Safer.

That is until he leaned over and pretended to bite my scalp.

Giggling, I pushed him away to fix my hair and he chuckled, looking up to the menu. My stomach tingled.

“–and that’ll be all. ‘Preciate it,” Chris said, taking our cups and moving to the drinks station.

“Thanks.”

“No problem. Whaddaya want?”

I filled my cup and surreptitiously watched him fill his. Chris’s arm tensed in the harsh downlighting and the ridges of his veins became ever more prominent. I shook my head to erase the thoughts as though I were some kind of Etch-a-Sketch. I need to chill out.

Chris carried our food out to the car and I tossed him my keys. The parking lot was pretty empty–most people went through the drive-thru. I stepped over a curb and let my body swing around, arms flowing lazily at my sides. The air didn’t feel as heavy at night, even here in Smog City. I felt awake and content with being alive.

“What are you doin’?” Chris leaned against the car braced on one arm, watching me with a half-smile.

“Dancing, clearly,” I huffed, lifting my arms above my head for another turn.

“I’m gonna eat your fries,” he said with a shrug. At my shriek of protest, he snatched the bag of food and ducked into the passenger seat as I tore after him. I slammed the door behind me and fell into my seat, reaching out for the bag. “Give it, jackass!” I yelled with a wide grin. Chris pulled it into the air which caused me to collapse on his lap.

“I give up,” I groaned and laid there with my nose in his stomach.

“So dramatic.” He ruffled my hair again. “Sit up, I’ll get your food.” I looked up at him through the stray hairs he’d created and he looked right back. “What?”

I smiled and sat up, situating myself in my seat again. He paused before handing me my box of chicken and fries. “Did you get extra sauce?” I asked.

“Yeah. I think?” He rifled through the bag as I stole a fry from his box and returned to my own.

“I saw that.”

“Saw what?”

“You’re not slick.”

“yOu’Re NoT sLiCk,” I harped. “I’m just a girl.”

“Just a thief, maybe.”

“You wound me.”

“Don’t steal my fries then.”

I stuck my tongue out at him. Chris tilted his head in disbelief, and promptly proceeded to return the favor.

We munched in the quiet for a while. It felt peaceful, and not awkward at all. Chris could come across that way when he didn’t talk, but he actually enjoyed silence sometimes–it gave his mind time to catch up to him.

“Chris, look,” I murmured, pointing. A group of girls staggered through the drive-thru, laughing their heads off.

“Ooh, okay,” he said, putting his drink down and shifting in his seat. “Here we go.”

Our favorite game–coming up with stories of the people around us. We were the worst people to go to the airport with.

“So, girl in the pink.”

“Definitely planned the whole outing.”

“You think so?” I sipped my drink.

“You can tell because she’s the most wasted.”

“Drinking to forget the annoyance–I can sympathize.” Chris so graciously bestowed upon me a side-eye of putrid proportions, and I pretended to ignore him completely. “My turn.”

“Cool Shirt Girl.”

“Dragged out of the house by the Dress Girl. Would much prefer being at home or doing something more chill than bar-hopping.”

“Oh, they’re bar-hopping?”

I studied the group for a moment. “Yes.”

“Noted.”

“What about Miss Bandana, what do we think about her?”

Chris sat up straighter. “She’s cute.”

“Not the point.”

“So you also think she’s cute.”

“I plead the Fifth. What’s her story?”

He stared unabashedly for a long moment before he spoke. “She doesn’t think she belongs with them.”

I blinked. “Defend your answer.”

“What is this, English class?”

I cut my eyes at him, he smirked, and continued. “Look at how she’s walking, she’s not having as much fun as everyone else but she wants to, look, she’s adding to the conversation, she’s making sure Pink Girl doesn’t fall over…but she’s not starting anything new to talk about, she doesn’t seem super confident. But no one who wears a bandana is shy so it has to be her insecurities about this event in particular, or these people in particular.”

He bit his chicken tender in half thoughtfully.

I sat agape. “Where the hell did that come from.”

“Hm?”

“That was a wild amount of description. And…probably very accurate, now that I think about it.”

“I love these games,” Chris chirped as he settled back into his seat cushion.

“You’re so goofy,” I responded. “Hey Chris?”

“Yep.”

“Why’d you wanna go out tonight?”

“Hm?”

“Why did you want to get out of the house tonight?”

He shrugged, still looking at the restaurant in front of us.

My eyes narrowed. “You left me a two-minute-long rambling voicemail about how bad you needed to see me.”

Chris didn’t react–or at least, not in a way a stranger would notice. His breath changed its pattern, he shifted his feet on the floorboard, and his grip on the armrest tightened. I waited quietly, holding my gaze on his face so he would know he wasn’t off the hook.

He took a deep breath. “I…wanted to talk to you.”

“Okay,” I said softly, sipping my drink.

“How do you know if you love someone?”

I choked on the liquid in my throat. “I’m sorry, what?”

“Like…” he huffed a sigh of frustration. “Like what does love even mean?”

“Well, I think–”

“And how does everyone just know? What does it feel like to be in love? How can you trust that your feelings won’t go away over time? And why am I so scared of it? Who decided what love meant? Why were they the expert, what did they do to be so “in-the-know” about love anyway? Because it’s like–”

“Chris.” He was panting now. “Breathe, kid,” I said, touching his arm again. “Do you want me to answer your questions and give you advice, or do you just want me to listen?”

“No, I want to know, I just…It’s annoying. I hate feeling stupid.”

“And you feel like…you’re stupid when it comes to love?”

“Yeah. The romantic kind.”

I hummed. “You seem to have family love figured out pretty well.”

“Well sure, but I got lucky with Nick and Matt,” he sighed.

“I think romantic love is basically the same.” He looked at me quizzically. “It’s like…Love, to me, is waking up every day and choosing that person regardless of what the day is gonna throw at you. Like if your channel disappeared tomorrow, you wouldn’t ditch your brothers. If your parents died, you wouldn’t leave Nick to deal with it on his own, you wouldn’t ignore how that affected Matt, you know?” Chris nodded thoughtfully. He looked at the dashboard but I realized his mind was probably very far away from the physical attributes of my car. I went on. “Love is different for everyone, so you may not agree with what I think about love, but someone will, and that’s probably one of the people I need in my life. Does that make sense?”

“Yeah,” Chris answered quietly.

“Also, don’t feel stupid. I don’t know fuck-all about math, but does that mean I’m…I don’t know, ‘less-than’ other people who know more about math?” He shook his head and I laid a hand gently on his forearm. “Romantic love is such a small part of all of the love there is in the world and I really think you sell yourself short by placing so much value on people’s knowledge or experience with it. You’ve never been in a romantic relationship before, right? So how would you know? There’s nothing wrong with that, seriously. I haven’t either, does that mean I’m dumb?” Chris grinned at me and I turned away to hide my smile. “Don’t answer that, you dick.” He threw his head back in a laugh, at which point I rolled my eyes so hard it made my brain hurt. “Anyway…” I huffed, trying and failing to appear annoyed, “You’re doing great in the love department. I wouldn’t worry about it at all.”

He nodded and seemed to be satisfied with my answer. “You want a fry?”

“Yes.”

Chris pulled one from his bag and held it out to me. I tried to take it but he snatched it back and held it higher. “Come on, I thought you said you wanted it.”

“Jackass.” I opened my mouth expectantly. Chris placed the salty fry on my tongue and wiped his fry-oil-covered fingertips on my chin as I closed my mouth. I tried to bite him and he yanked his hand away.

“Down, girl.”

“Grrr.”

“Thank you.”

“Hm?”

“For earlier. That helped.”

“Good,” I said, letting the humor filter away from my features until (I hoped) only kindness and empathy remained. “I’m glad.”

A beat of silence passed, during which I turned back to my own food.

“I love you,” he said quietly.

I looked up at him. Chris’s eyes were not on mine. “I love you too, Chris. You mean the world to me.”

“I’m not sure how I love you.”

I sensed he had more to say, so I waited, brows crinkled.

With an anxious inhale, he continued. “I don’t know if it’s…family love or…something else.”

“That’s okay.”

“It’s not.”

I squeezed his arm. “It is.”

A pause.

“Come here,” I said. I gathered Chris into my arms and he pulled me tightly against him, our torso’s separated by the center console. He smelled like cold spices and the mountains. “I care about you,” I whispered, gentle as I could possibly be. “Whatever form that takes.”

His hand slid up and down my back, pressing hard against me–like he was desperate for something, or feeling emotions he couldn’t articulate.

“You are…very cool.”

I chuckled in spite of myself. “Thank you, Christopher.”

“I mean it. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” I replied in a more serious tone, squeezing him tight. He returned the favor, and he would continue until his arms ached and his chest begged for relief. We did this sometimes, in moments of great emotion. The words Chris knew could not equate to the sentiments Chris felt, so sometimes we just held each other until we couldn’t anymore. It had only happened twice before.

When he finally loosened his grip, I rubbed his shoulder and leaned back into my chair. “Was that what you called about?”

“Partly,” he said. “Also we haven’t talked so I just wanted to know if you were like…good.” He chuckled. “How’s your love life?”

“Nothing to report.” Liar.

“...That’s good.”

“Yeah.” Say something.

“You wanna head home?”

“Sure!” Say anything.

“Cool.”

I started the car. The engine roared to life as I adjusted my seat and reversed out of our parking spot.

“Thank you for…all of that,” Chris said.

“You’re welcome,” I murmured back, looking anywhere other than his eyes. He couldn’t see the tears in mine–I wouldn’t let him. Chris didn’t need my drama right now.

We drove home with more music than conversation. I dropped him off and watched him walk inside, the boys’ massive garage door sliding down behind him. The car idled in the street for a while as I stared into the darkness.

My phone buzzed in the cupholder–a text from Chris.

iMessage from Orange Juice:

come over more often

i missed hanging out with you

you’re a rly good friend

Thanks <3 you too i guess, I typed, ignoring the hot tears that spilled down my cheeks.

pt two: here

idea inspired by the following track:

request to be on the taglist under this post right here

tags: @pinksturniolo @malirosee @st7rnioioss @nonat-111 @cindylcuwho @evie-sturns @h3arts4harry @fanficsbymia @dazednmatthews @sturniolo-rat @mattsmad @sturniolo04 @bellasturn @blahbel668 @yomamaslays4lyfe @stasiesturn

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mostlysignssomeportents · 6 months ago

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Inkjump Linkdump

For the rest of May, my bestselling solarpunk utopian novel THE LOST CAUSE (2023) is available as a $2.99, DRM-free ebook!

It's the start of a long weekend and I've found myself with a backlog of links, so it's time for another linkdump – the eighteenth in the (occasional) series. Here's the previous installments:

https://pluralistic.net/tag/linkdump/

Kicking off this week's backlog is a piece of epic lawyer-snark, which is something I always love, but what makes this snark total catnip for me is that it's snark about copyfraud: false copyright claims made to censor online speech. Yes please and a second portion, thank you very much!

This starts with the Cola Corporation, a radical LA-based design store that makes lefty t-shirts, stickers and the like. Cola made a t-shirt that remixed the LA Lakers logo to read "Fuck the LAPD." In response, the LAPD's private foundation sent a nonsense copyright takedown letter. Cola's lawyer, Mike Dunford, sent them a chef's-kiss-perfect reply, just two words long: "LOL, no":

https://www.techdirt.com/2024/04/19/apparel-company-gives-perfect-response-to-lapds-nonsense-ip-threat-letter-over-fuck-the-lapd-shirt/

But that's not the lawyer snark I'm writing about today. Dunford also sent a letter to IMG Worldwide, whose lawyers sent the initial threat, demanding an explanation for this outrageous threat, which was – as the physicists say – "not even wrong":

https://www.loweringthebar.net/2024/05/lol-no-explained.html

Every part of the legal threat is dissected here, with lavish, caustic footnotes, mercilessly picking apart the legal defects, including legally actionable copyfraud under DMCA 512(f), which provides for penalties for wrongful copyright threats. To my delight, Dunford cited Lenz here, which is the infamous "Dancing Baby" case that EFF successfully litigated on behalf of Stephanie Lenz, whose video of her adorable (then-)toddler dancing to a few seconds of Prince's "Let's Go Crazy" was censored by Universal Music Group:

https://www.eff.org/cases/lenz-v-universal

Dunford's towering rage is leavened with incredulous demands for explanations: how on Earth could a lawyer knowingly send such a defective, illegal threat? Why shouldn't Dunford seek recovery of his costs from IMG and its client, the LA Police Foundation, for such lawless bullying? It is a sparkling – incandescent, even! – piece of lawyerly writing. If only all legal correspondence was this entertaining! Every 1L should study this.

Meanwhile, Cola has sold out of everything, thanks to that viral "LOL, no." initial response letter. They're taking orders for their next resupply, shipping on June 1. Gotta love that Streisand Effect!

https://www.thecolacorporation.com/

I'm generally skeptical of political activism that takes the form of buying things or refusing to do so. "Voting with your wallet" is a pretty difficult trick to pull off. After all, the people with the thickest wallets get the most votes, and generally, the monopoly party wins. But as the Cola Company's example shows, there's times when shopping can be a political act.

But that's because it's a collective act. Lots of us went and bought stuff from Cola, to send a message to the LAPD about legal bullying. That kind of collective action is hard to pull off, especially when it comes to purchase-decisions. Often, this kind of thing descends into a kind of parody of political action, where you substitute shopping for ideology. This is where Matt Bors's Mr Gotcha comes in: "ooh, you want to make things better, but you bought a product from a tainted company, I guess you're not really sincere, gotcha!"

https://thenib.com/mister-gotcha/

There's a great example of this in Zephyr Teachout's brilliant 2020 book Break 'Em Up: if you miss the pro-union demonstration at the Amazon warehouse because you spent two hours driving around looking for an indie stationer to buy the cardboard to make your protest sign rather than buying it from Amazon, Amazon wins:

https://pluralistic.net/2020/07/29/break-em-up/#break-em-up

So yeah, I'm pretty skeptical of consumerism as a framework for political activism. It's very hard to pull off an effective boycott, especially of a monopolist. But if you can pull it off, well…

Canada is one of the most monopoly-friendly countries in the world. Hell, the Competition Act doesn't even have an "abuse of dominance" standard! That's like a criminal code that doesn't have a section prohibiting "murder." (The Trudeau government has promised to fix this.)

https://www.theglobeandmail.com/opinion/editorials/article-an-overhauled-competition-act-will-light-a-fire-in-the-stolid-world-of/

There's stiff competition for Most Guillotineable Canadian Billionaire. There's the entire Irving family, who basically own the province of New Bruinswick:

https://www.canadaland.com/podcast/dynasties-2-the-irvings/

There's Ted Rogers, the trumpy billionaire telecoms monopolist, whose serial acquire-and-loot approach to media has devastated Canadian TV and publishing:

https://www.canadaland.com/podcast/canadaland-725-the-rogers-family-compact/

But then there's Galen Fucking Weston, the nepobaby who inherited the family grocery business (including Loblaw), bought out all his competitors (including Shopper's Drug Mart), and then engaged in a criminal price-fixing conspiracy to rig the price of bread, the most Les-Miz-ass crime imaginable:

https://www.blogto.com/eat_drink/2023/06/what-should-happened-galen-weston-price-fixing/

Weston has made himself the face of the family business, appearing in TV ads in a cardigan to deliver dead-eyed avuncular paeans to his sprawling empire, even as he colludes with competitors to rig the price of his workers' wages:

https://www.bloomberg.com/news/articles/2020-06-12/a-supermarket-billionaire-steps-into-trouble-over-pandemic-wages

For Canadians, Weston is the face of greedflation, the man whose nickle-and-diming knows no shame. This is the man who decided that the discount on nearly-spoiled produce would be slashed from 50% to 30%, who racked up record profits even as his prices skyrocketed.

It's impossible to overstate how loathed Galen Weston is at this moment. There's a very good episode of the excellent new podcast Lately, hosted by Canadian competition expert Vass Bednar and Katrina Onstad that gives you a sense of the national outrage:

https://www.theglobeandmail.com/podcasts/lately/article-boycotting-the-loblawpoly/

All of this has led to a national boycott of Loblaw, kicked off by members of the r/loblawsisoutofcontrol, and it's working. Writing for Jacobin, Jeremy Appel gives us a snapshot of a nation in revolt:

https://jacobin.com/2024/05/loblaw-grocery-price-gouge-boycott/

Appel points out the boycott's problems – there's lots of places, particularly in the north, where Loblaw's is the only game in town, or where the sole competitor is the equally odious Walmart. But he also talks about the beneficial effect the boycott is having for independent grocers and co-ops who deal more fairly with their suppliers and their customers.

He also platforms the boycott's call for a national system of price controls on certain staples. This is something that neoliberal economists despise, and it's always fun to watch them lose their minds when the subject is raised. Meanwhile, economists like Isabella M Weber continue to publish careful research explaining how and why price controls can work, and represent our best weapon against "seller's inflation":

https://scholarworks.umass.edu/econ_workingpaper/343/

Antimonopoly sentiment is having a minute, obviously, and the news comes at you fast. This week, the DoJ filed a lawsuit to break up Ticketmaster/Live Nation, one of the country's most notorious monopolists, who have aroused the ire of every kind of fan, but especially the Swifties (don't fuck with Swifties). In announcing the suit, DoJ Antitrust Division boss Jonathan Kanter coined the term "Ticketmaster tax" to describe the junk fees that Ticketmaster uses to pick all our pockets.

In response, Ticketmaster has mobilized its own Loblaw-like shill army, who insist that all the anti-monopoly activism is misguided populism, and "anti-business." In his BIG newsletter, Matt Stoller tears these claims apart, and provides one of the clearest explanations of how Ticketmaster rips us all off that I've ever seen, leaning heavily on Ticketmaster's own statements to their investors and the business-press:

https://www.thebignewsletter.com/p/antitrust-enforcers-to-break-up-ticketmaster

Ticketmaster has a complicated "flywheel" that it uses to corner the market on live events, mixing low-margin businesses that are deliberately kept unprofitable (to prevent competitors from gaining a foothold) in order to capture the high-margin businesses that are its real prize. All this complexity can make your eyes glaze over, and that's to Ticketmaster's benefit, keeping normies from looking too closely at how this bizarre self-licking ice-cream cone really works.

But for industry insiders, those workings are all too clear. When Rebecca Giblin and I were working on our book Chokepoint Capitalism, we talked to insiders from every corner of the entertainment-industrial complex, and there was always at least one expert who'd go on record about the scams inside everything from news monopolies to streaming video to publishing and the record industry:

https://chokepointcapitalism.com/

The sole exception was Ticketmaster/Live Nation. When we talked to club owners, promoters and other victims of TM's scam, they universally refused to go on the record. They were palpably terrified of retaliation from Ticketmaster's enforcers. They acted like mafia informants seeking witness protection. Not without reason, mind you: back when the TM monopoly was just getting started, Pearl Jam – then one of the most powerful acts in American music – took a stand against them. Ticketmaster destroyed them. That was when TM was a mere hatchling, with a bare fraction of the terrifying power it wields today.

TM is a great example of the problem with boycotts. If a club or an act refuses to work with TM/LN, they're destroyed. If a fan refuses to buy tickets from TM or see a Live Nation show, they basically can't go to any shows. The TM monopoly isn't a problem of bad individual choices – it's a systemic problem that needs a systemic response.

That's what makes antitrust responses so timely. Federal enforcers have wide-ranging powers, and can seek remedies that consumerism can never attain – there's no way a boycott could result in a breakup of Ticketmaster/Live Nation, but a DoJ lawsuit can absolutely get there.

Every federal agency has wide-ranging antimonopoly powers at its disposal. These are laid out very well in Tim Wu's 2020 White House Executive Order on competition, which identifies 72 ways the agencies can act against monopoly without having to wait for Congress:

https://pluralistic.net/2021/08/13/post-bork-era/#manne-down

But of course, the majority of antimonopoly power is vested in the FTC, the agency created to police corporate power. Section 5 of the FTC Act grants the agency the power to act to prevent "unfair and deceptive methods of competition":

https://pluralistic.net/2023/01/10/the-courage-to-govern/#whos-in-charge

This clause has lain largely dormant since the Reagan era, but FTC chair Lina Khan has revived it, using it to create muscular privacy rights for Americans, and to ban noncompete agreements that bind American workers to dead-end jobs:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/04/25/capri-v-tapestry/#aiming-at-dollars-not-men

The FTC's power to ban activity because it's "unfair and deceptive" is exciting, because it promises American internet users a way to solve their problems beyond copyright law. Copyright law is basically the only law that survived the digital transition, even as privacy, labor and consumer protection rights went into hibernation. The last time Congress gave us a federal consumer privacy law was 1988, and it's a law that bans video store clerks from telling the newspapers which VHS cassettes you rented:

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Video_Privacy_Protection_Act

That's left internet users desperately trying to contort copyright to solve every problem they have – like someone trying to build a house using nothing but chainsaw. For example, I once found someone impersonating me on a dating site, luring strangers into private spaces. Alarmed, I contacted the dating site, who told me that their only fix for this was for me to file a copyright claim against the impersonator to make them remove the profile photo. Now, that photo was Creative Commons licensed, so any takedown notice would have been a "LOL, no." grade act of copyfraud:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/10/21/the-internets-original-sin/

The unsuitability of copyright for solving complex labor and privacy problems hasn't stopped people who experience these problems from trying to use copyright to solve them. They've got nothing else, after all.

That's why everyone who's worried about the absolutely legitimate and urgent concerns over AI and labor and privacy has latched onto copyright as the best tool for resolving these questions, despite copyright's total unsuitability for this purpose, and the strong likelihood that this will make these problems worse:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/05/13/spooky-action-at-a-close-up/#invisible-hand

Enter FTC Chair Lina Khan, who has just announced that her agency will be reviewing AI model training as an "unfair and deceptive method of competition":

https://thehill.com/policy/technology/4682461-ftc-chair-ai-models-could-violate-antitrust-laws/

If the agency can establish this fact, they will have sweeping powers to craft rules prohibiting the destructive and unfair uses of AI, without endangering beneficial activities like scraping, mathematical analysis, and the creation of automated systems that help with everything from adding archival metadata to exonerating wrongly convicted people rotting in prison:

https://hrdag.org/tech-notes/large-language-models-IPNO.html

I love this so much. Khan's announcement accomplishes the seemingly impossible: affirming that there are real problems and insisting that we employ tactics that can actually fix those problems, rather than just doing something because inaction is so frustrating.

That's something we could use a lot more of, especially in platform regulation. The other big tech news about Big Tech last week was the progress of a bill that would repeal Section 230 of the Communications Decency Act at the end of 2025, without any plans to replace it with something else.

Section 230 is the most maligned, least understood internet law, and that's saying something:

https://www.techdirt.com/2020/06/23/hello-youve-been-referred-here-because-youre-wrong-about-section-230-communications-decency-act/

Its critics wrongly accuse the law – which makes internet users liable for bad speech acts, not the platforms that carry that speech – of being a gift to Big Tech. That's totally wrong. Without Section 230, platforms could be named to lawsuits arising from their users' actions. We know how that would play out.

Back in 2018, Congress took a big chunk out of 230 when they passed SESTA/FOSTA, a law that makes platforms liable for any sex trafficking that is facilitated by their platforms. Now, this may sound like a narrowly targeted, beneficial law that aims at a deplorable, unconscionable crime. But here's how it played out: the platforms decided that it was too much trouble to distinguish sex trafficking from any sex-work, including consensual sex work and adjacent activities. The result? Consensual sex-work became infinitely more dangerous and precarious, while trafficking was largely unaffected:

https://www.gao.gov/assets/gao-21-385.pdf

Eliminating 230 would be incredibly reckless under any circumstances, but after the SESTA/FOSTA experience, it's unforgivable. The Big Tech platforms will greet this development by indiscriminately wiping out any kind of controversial speech from marginalized groups (think #MeToo or Black Lives Matter). Meanwhile, the rich and powerful will get a new tool – far more powerful than copyfraud – to make inconvenient speech disappear. The war-criminals, rapists, murderers and rip-off artists who currently make do with bogus copyright claims to "manage their reputations" will be able to use pretextual legal threats to make their critics just disappear:

https://www.qurium.org/forensics/dark-ops-undercovered-episode-i-eliminalia/

In a post-230 world, Cola Corporation's lawyers wouldn't get a chance to reply to the LAPD's bullying lawyers – those lawyers would send their letter to Cola's hosting provider, who would weigh the possibility of being named in a lawsuit against the small-dollar monthly payment they get from Cola, and poof, no more Cola. The legal bullies could do the same for Cola's email provider, their payment processor, their anti-DoS provider.

This week on EFF's Deeplinks blog, I published a piece making the connection between abolishing Section 230 and reinforcing Big Tech monopolies:

https://www.eff.org/deeplinks/2024/05/wanna-make-big-tech-monopolies-even-worse-kill-section-230

The Big Tech platforms really do suck, and the solution to their systemic, persistent moderation failures won't come from making them liable for users' speech. The platforms have correctly assessed that they alone have the legal and moderation staff to do the kinds of mass-deletions of controversial speech that could survive a post-230 world. That's why tech billionaires like Mark Zuckerberg love the idea of getting rid of 230:

https://www.eff.org/deeplinks/2021/03/facebooks-pitch-congress-section-230-me-not-thee

But for small tech providers – individuals, co-ops, nonprofits and startups that host fediverse servers, standalone group chats and BBSes – a post-230 world is a mass-extinction event. Ever had a friend demand that you take sides in an interpersonal dispute ("if you invite her to the party, I'm not coming!").

Imagine if your refusal to take sides in a dispute among your friends – and their friends, and their friends – could result in you being named to a suit that could cost hundreds of thousands of dollars to settle:

https://www.engine.is/news/primer/section230costs

It's one thing to hope for a more humane internet run by people who want to make hospitable forums for online communities to form. It's another to ask them to take on an uninsurable risk that could result in the loss of their home, their retirement account, and their life's savings.

A post-230 world is one in which Big Tech must delete first and ask questions later. Yes, Big Tech platforms have many sins to answer for, but making them jointly liable for their users' speech will flush out treasure-hunters seeking a quick settlement and a quick buck.

Again, this isn't speculative – it's inevitable. Consider FTX: yes, the disgraced cryptocurrency exchange was a festering hive of fraud – but there's no way that fraud added up to the 23.6 quintillion dollars in claims that have been laid against it:

https://cdn.arstechnica.net/wp-content/uploads/2024/03/US-v-SBF-Alameda-Research-Victim-Impact-Statement-3-20-2024.pdf

Without 230, Big Tech will shut down anything controversial – and small tech will disappear. It's the worst of all possible worlds, a gift to tech monopolists and the bullies and crooks who have turned our online communities into shooting galleries.

One of the reasons I love working for EFF is our ability to propose technologically informed, sound policy solutions to the very real problems that tech creates, such as our work on interoperability as a way to make it easier for users to escape Big Tech:

https://www.eff.org/interoperablefacebook

Every year, EFF recognizes the best, bravest and brightest contributors to a better internet and a better technological future, with our annual EFF Awards. Nominations just opened for this year's awards – if you know someone who fits the bill, here's the form:

https://www.eff.org/nominations-open-2024-eff-awards

It's nearly time for me to sign off on this weekend's linkdump. For one thing, I have to vacate my backyard hammock, because we've got contractors who need to access the side of the house to install our brand new heat-pump (one of two things I'm purchasing with my last lump-sum book advance – the other is corrective cataract surgery that will give me lifelong, perfect vision).

I've been lusting after a heat-pump for years, and they just keep getting better – though you might not know it, thanks to the fossil-fuel industry disinfo campaign that insists that these unbelievably cool gadgets don't work. This week in Wired, Matt Simon offers a comprehensive debunking of this nonsense, and on the way, explains the nearly magical technology that allows a heat pump to heat a midwestern home in the dead of winter:

https://www.wired.com/story/myth-heat-pumps-cold-weather-freezing-subzero/

As heat pumps become more common, their applications will continue to proliferate. On Bloomberg, Feargus O'Sullivan describes one such application: the Japanese yokushitsu kansouki – a sealed bathroom with its own heat-pump that can perfectly dry all your clothes while you're out at work:

https://www.bloomberg.com/news/articles/2024-05-22/laundry-lessons-from-japanese-bathroom-technology

This is amazing stuff – it uses less energy than a clothes-dryer, leaves your clothes wrinkle-free, prevents the rapid deterioration caused by high heat and mechanical agitation, and prevents the microfiber pollution that lowers our air-quality.

This is the most solarpunk thing I've read all week, and it makes me insanely jealous of Japanese people. The second-most solarpunk thing I've read this week came from The New Republic, where Aaron Regunberg and Donald Braman discuss the possibility of using civil asset forfeiture laws – lately expanded to farcical levels by the Supreme Court in Culley – to force the fossil fuel industry to pay for the energy transition:

https://newrepublic.com/article/181721/fossil-fuels-civil-forefeiture-pipeline-climate

They point out that the fossil fuel industry has committed a string of undisputed crimes, including fraud, and that the Supremes' new standard for asset forfeiture could comfortably accommodate state AGs and other enforcers who seek billions from Big Oil on this basis. Of course, Big Oil has more resources to fight civil asset forfeiture than the median disputant in these cases ("a low- or moderate-income person of color [with] a suspected connection to drugs"). But it's an exciting idea!

All right, the heat-pump guys really need me to vacate the hammock, so here's one last quickie for you: Barath Raghavan and Bruce Schneier's new paper, "Seeing Like a Data Structure":

https://www.belfercenter.org/publication/seeing-data-structure

This is a masterful riff on James C Scott's classic Seeing Like a State, and it describes how digitalization forces us into computable categories, and counts the real costs of doing so. It's a gnarly and thoughtful piece, and it's been on my mind continuously since Schneier sent it to me yesterday. Something suitably chewy for you to masticate over the long weekend!

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/05/25/anthology/#lol-no

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wolfjackle-creates · 10 months ago

Text

Answer My Call Chapter 2 Part 2

Happy WIP Wednesday! So last week, we had a tie between Bring Me Home and Answer My Call. The tie breaker didn't come in until Monday after I'd already finished the entire Bring Me Home chapter and half the Answer My Call one.

So y'all will be getting two fic upates today then I'm going to sleep. I'm tired after a full day of work with a call out. XP

If you want a say in next week's update, vote in the poll!

Story Summary: Jazz, Sam, and Tucker manage to help Danny escape the GIW, but they can't follow him and are under too much surveillance to communicate with each other. Sam snuck Danny a phone as he ran and Jazz sends him a text every day, hoping to hear he is all right. But he's not the one getting the texts.

Jason was away for several months on a mission with the Outlaws. When he finally returns home, he is surprised to find dozens of messages from an unknown number begging a Danny to tell her he's okay. Looks like there's not going to be a break between missions this time around.

Chapter 1: AO3 (user locked), Tumblr

Chapter 2: Part 1

Word Count: 1.3k

-----

After the performances—an odd mix where the main band yielded the stage to a poet or an accordionist when they needed a break—Jazz and Todd continued to mingle.

Jazz waited until about fifteen minutes had passed before reaching into her bag to search for her phone. “Todd!” she cried.

“Jazz? What’s wrong?”

“I can’t find my phone! Shit, what time is it?”

Todd pulled out his. “Eleven fifty. Did you have it when we arrived?”

“I don’t know! I haven’t checked it. Where could it have gone?”

One of the other attendees broke into the conversation. “Lost your phone? What does it look like? We can help you look.” She was a woman in her forties or fifties. Next to her was another woman who nodded her agreement.

“Thank you, that’d be great.” It didn’t take much effort to bring tears to her eyes—all she had to do was remember that Danny was still missing. “It’s a Samsung in an unfortunately standard black case. The lock screen has picture of and my brother. My name’s Jazz, by the way. And this is Todd.”

“I’m Mel and this is my wife Jayden. I’m sure we’ll find your phone soon enough.” Then, in a voice loud enough to cut through the chatter, “Oi! Anyone see an unattended phone lying around? Jazz here misplaced hers?”

Even Mel, though, had to admit defeat after half an hour of searching through the entire apartment yielded nothing.

Jazz sat down on the floor and let herself cry. “And by now we’ve missed the last train. I’m sorry, Todd. What a disaster.”

“Hey, no. None of that, now. Tonight’s been a blast. This sucks for sure, but I can get us an uber or something—”

“How far are you kids going?” asked Jayden.

“Too far,” cried Jazz. “I live out of the city. Parked at Alewife and took the red line in.”

Jayden winced. “Well, we parked nearby. Is there somewhere close we can drive you?”

Jazz blinked up at them. “You’d do that?” She turned to Todd. “I just want to go to sleep. Is there a motel nearby we could stay at?”

Todd pulled out his phone and searched. “Looks like there’s a Holiday inn just down the street or a La Quinta that’s a little cheaper just a bit further out.” He smiled ruefully at the women who’d been helping them. “If you could get us to either place, we’d be more than grateful.”

One of the residents, an older man named Rob, took a seat next to them. “Hey, kiddo. What’s your email? We can contact you if anyone finds it.”

Jazz smiled at him gratefully and gave it. If it wasn’t so necessary, she’d feel bad for lying to and worrying all these people. But they were in so much danger. To the women, she said, “Would the La Quinta be too far out of the way? If I end up having to get a new phone, I’d like to save as much money as possible. Thank God I still have my wallet.”

“Sweetie, it’s totally fine,” assured Mel. “We’d take you all the way home if we didn’t live on the opposite side of the city.”

“Thank you, but that’s really okay. I just want to go to bed and worry about it tomorrow.”

“Come on, dear.” Mel reached out a hand to help Jazz up. “Let’s get you cleaned up then we’ll be on our way.”

Jazz thanked Rob for his help before Mel led her towards the bathroom with an arm around her shoulder.

Less than forty minutes later, Todd and Jazz were alone in a hotel room together. She pulled the blinds shut and finally let herself relax.

When she turned back to the room, Todd was looking at her with one eyebrow raised. “Want to explain to me what all of”—he threw out his hands—“that was about?”

Jazz glared back at him. “You didn’t tell me you died! Damn it, if I’d known in advance—!” she cut herself off and took a deep breath. “Never mind. What’s done is done.”

Todd was deadly still. “How do you know that?”

Jazz threw her hands in the air. “It’s obvious to anyone who knows how to tell. Including the Guys in White who I told you are dangerous to ghosts and liminals! I had plans for what I’d say when they found us, but those won’t work if you’re dead!”

“Wait.” Todd held up his hands. “You’re saying I can be persecuted under those Anti-Ecto acts?”

“Yes! You’re more ghostly than me, and I am watched every minute of every day.”

Todd narrowed his eyes and stared at her for a moment before asking, “Have you heard of Lazarus Water or had any dealings with the League of Assassins?”

“No! I have no idea what you’re talking about. Quit changing the subject. My brother is the only thing that matters and you and Red Robin promised to help me find him.”

“That’s what I’m trying to do!” Jason’s eyes flashed green, and Jazz glared right back at him. “The League of Assassins are the ones who brought me back to life with Lazarus Water. I need to know if you and your brother are mixed up with them because that would change our approach. If it’s a rogue government agency, that’s one thing. If it’s also the league, we’ve got a whole set of other problems.”

Jazz sat down heavily on one of the bed. “Oh. Sorry, I didn’t— It’s been a long few months. After a long few years.”

Todd sat down across from her and nodded for her to continue. “Tell me what happened.”

“It started three years ago. My parents, they’re ghost hunters. Been building weapons to detect and hunt ghosts since before I was born. But three years ago is when they finally finished their life’s work: the ghost portal. Only it didn’t work at first. Then my brother Danny and his friends decided to be stupid. They went to check it out. I wasn’t there and the three of them don’t talk about it, but something happened down there that day.

“My brother died and the portal was working. Only, he didn’t die all the way. He became half-ghost, half-human. And that would have been bad enough, but with the portal open, ghosts came through from the Infinite Realms, sometimes called the Ghost Zone by humans. Some were benign, but many of them came to cause problems or hurt people. Danny stopped them.”

Todd held up a hand to stop her. “Your brother became a supehero? How didn’t the Justice League hear about this? How old was he?”

Jazz shrugged. “I don’t know about the Justice League. It could be that no one ever contacted them. It could be they didn’t believe us. And it could be that no one cared. Danny felt responsible though, since it was his fault the portal turned on. And he was the only one with the ability to stop the ghosts, so…” She held up her hands in a what-can-you-do gesture.

Todd closed his eyes and let out a careful breath. “I can guarantee you the JL didn’t know about your town. A fourteen-year-old would never have been left alone to monitor an interdimensional portal if we had.”

Jazz had no idea what she thought of that. Danny had done it all alone. So finding out he could have had help? She shook her head. What-ifs were a waste of time. “Well, he did. But the government didn’t like that a ghost was the main defense against ghosts. So the Ghost Investigation Ward, more commonly called the Guys in White or GIW was formed. At first, they were as incompetent as any other ghost hunter. But they didn’t stay that way.”

“What happened to your brother, Jazz?” asked Todd.

-----

Sorry to end it there. But it's the right length and I need to go to bed. XP

Hope you enjoy!

I no longer do tag lists, but please check out the Subscription Post if you want notifications when I update.

Not much to say about this one. When I went to the event at this location, my friend and I very nearly missed the last train. It was pulling into the station as we entered. If we'd been 2 or 3 minutes later, we would've been stranded so far from my car, I don't even want to know what that uber or cab would've cost.

Luckily Jazz and Jason had a few good Samaritans nearby.

Next up: We learn more about what happened to Danny!

#dpxdc #answer my call #wrong number au #jazz fenton #jason todd #eventual anger management ship #emotions are running high #and jazz is Stressed™️#but they can finally talk #and be safe about it

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strawberryblue-blog · 9 months ago

Text

Stop calling me that —Pedri Gonzalez.

summary: After going out with your friends and having to take care of Pedri, things take an unexpected turn.

warnings: YES. +18. (smut, unprotected sex, cursing, etc)

words: +4.5k

#SEXYNOTE: There may be errors since i use the translator. English is not my first language.

Hands grab your forearm as you try to escape from the crowd of people. The music was at its peak and everyone around you was still dancing like there was no tomorrow. You weren't going to lie, a few moments ago you were one of them but after seeing one of your friends in bad shape, you decided it was the best thing to do to take him home.

Surrounded by sweaty and high strangers, you and Pedro make your way through the bodies, trying to make it to the end. You try to look for your other friends with your eyes but it's hard because of the darkness and the neon lights bursting in your eyes. Your friends were probably out picking up girls or lying around somewhere, they might have even gone home by now.

When they finally emerge from the chaos, you push Pedro until he's sitting on the edge of the street. He sighs tiredly and lies down on the sidewalk.

"No, no. You'll get dirty" you tell him, helping him to pull himself together but he groans. You take your phone from your wallet and call your friends, first Gavi and no answer, then Fermin and no answer either, you try your friends and no sign of life either.

Damn it. Of all of them, it had to be Pedro?

If you had known he would get that drunk and the boys would disappear sooner than you wanted, you wouldn't have agreed to come tonight.

Being voted in and on top of that having to take care of an alcoholic kid was not what you had in mind when they said 'let's go out'.

You hated drunks! You didn't understand why they drank if they weren't going to put up with it. You weren't a babysitter.

"Come on, Pedro, the last few steps" you sighed from exhaustion, dragging him along when they turned the corner of your block.

You didn't want to bring him home but none of the boys were paying attention and you didn't know if it was the right thing to do to take him home in this state. His brother, Fer, was probably sleeping and you didn't want to disturb him. It was late and I lived far from you, if you took a taxi it would be very expensive and you didn't have a car. You had a couch and because of his condition, he wouldn't feel a thing.

He didn't even know it was you bringing him home, the boy was just babbling nonsense. At least he was still awake, because dragging a dead body was not what you would have preferred.

Finally a few minutes later you arrived at your apartment, opened the door and with the last effort you threw him on the couch.

Pedro whimpered kicking and screaming when you let him go. Maybe because he thrashed a bit, which was funny but you were quick to worry about helping him.

"I'll never go out with you again, I promise" you said loudly, whining as you reached out to grab his shoes.

"What are you doing?" you heard him ask and you lifted your head.

The position you were in was not at all favorable. Pedro looked at you in confusion and from how nervous you became, you stumbled falling over his legs.

"Y/n?" he said again and you got up from his body quickly.

"Sleep, Pedro" you said quickly as you removed them.

"Stop calling me that!" he grumbled snorting.

He was fucking drunk! Why wouldn't he fall asleep? You were hating that he saw you like that. He should be sleeping right now so everything would be easier.

"It's your name, I don't understand why it bothers you" you told him seriously.

"It's Pedri to my friends, you could try it" he insisted and you nodded.

You knew. You knew his friends, who were your friends too but you were not so close. Not because of anything special, simply because you didn't have much contact. You were Fermín's college classmate and with that, you got to know Pablo, Pedro and Ferran but you wouldn't say you were close to them either. You could count on one hand the number of times you saw each other. You had seen them at Fermín's birthday, at the end of the year dinner and now. You couldn't exactly say they were friends. You weren't even close.

"I want to take a shower, I stink" he pouted complainingly.

"Well you should have thought about that before you got drunk like that" you muttered heading towards the kitchen.

The truth was that you both stank. It was hot this time of year and in club there were a lot of people, you had traces of drinks, cigarettes and dirt on you.

"It'll just be a quick shower" he asked again and you bleached your eyes.

"No" you denied seriously. "Go to sleep" you asked pouring him a glass of water.

You sighed before taking a drink of water, you never thought taking care of someone drunk would be so exhausting. Bringing him home had been almost a triumph for you but him being here, invading your space was too much. A noise made you alert and you turned quickly. Pedro's body was heading for the center of your home and on his way he had crashed into your tapestry.

"Where are you going?" you shouted as he headed for the doors. You walked quickly following him. "Pedro!" you shouted again when he ignored you.

You saw his bare back as you followed him towards your bathroom. He had taken off his shirt! Damn it. This wasn't going to end well. Why didn't his friends take care of him? Surely they would know how to handle him better than you.

"I'll call Fermin, he'll come get you and you can bathe at his house" you yelled as you saw him disappear into the bathroom.

You stood at the bathroom door and fumbled in your pockets for your cell phone but cursed when you noticed you had forgotten it in the living room. The sound of the shower hitting the floor made you scream. You were going in, you couldn't leave it alone in that state.

"I'm going in" you warned covering your eyes with your hand. You bit your lip nervously and walked into your bathroom, seeing Pedro's clothes on the floor.

Was this how drunks behaved? You were going to need a break after this. And enlightenment from the universe not to kill Pedro. You were hating your friends so hard right now that you probably wouldn't hang out with them ever again. Ever.

"Turn it off!" you shrieked from the other side of the shower. You tried to reach in to turn off the water but Pedro ran it.

"It's just a bath" he said stammering.

"But you don't have any clothes, Pedro" you grumbled but he ignored you.

"What is body gel soap?" you heard him ask and you wanted to hit him.

"Don't even think about using it" you said through your teeth, bending down to grab his clothes off the floor. You hated that everything was lying around.

"Smells good" he said and you went back to throwing everything in your hands to get it off him.

"Drop it, Pedro" you remarked his name like a mother scolding her child.

You weren't going to let him use your stuff just like that. He was invading your privacy, you wouldn't stand for it. And he was acting like a five year old.

You reached in your hands grabbing the gel, trying not to look at him so much but half your body was inside the shower and your hands were starting to get wet.

"Use the normal soap!" you squealed taking it out of his hands but Pedro was quicker and pulled you out.

"Pedro!" you called angrily.

His hands were fighting against yours, he couldn't be more childish. But he wasn't going to use it, it was your favorite gel, you smelled like vanilla and cinnamon, you weren't going to let Pedro smell like you.

You took the product in your hands but when Pedro's hands let go of the bottle, he grabbed your forearms and pulled you into the shower. Your hair started to get wet as you screamed from the shock of the water on your body. You didn't have time to react when you were already completely wet and your eyes searched the mocking eyes of Pedro, who hid a laugh on his lips as he saw you squealing.

"What the fuck?" you shouted in confusion.

"You are very intense and you kept saying Pedro, Pedro, Pedro" he replied mocking you.

You want to keep yelling at him and hit him but your eyes move to his abdomen, leaving you breathless. You look at his well toned chest, he has a bit of hair on top, well marked. A shiver runs down your back and makes you swallow saliva as you continue down his body but you cover yourself before you can see him.

He is naked in front of you and feels no shame at all. He looks at you with that complicit look and you want to run but your legs don't work. Instead, you feel a heat rising from the tip of your toes to your crotch, damn it. Your body tricks you and reacts to the situation as instinct, your cheeks heat up and your heart beats fast.

You are both under the cold shower, which now feels warm on your skin, standing facing each other but one of you is only dressed. You die of embarrassment but you can't do anything, you're in shock.

You feel drunk and you didn't even take a drop of alcohol, your eyes are still closed but you can see his body in your imagination, his perfect abs, his hard chest and his...

Shit, what the fuck is wrong with you? You blink trying to understand but every second that passes you want to keep seeing it.

A laugh bursts in your ears and makes you shiver.

"Why do you look like you've never seen a naked man?" he sneers at your reaction.

Your skin bristles with anger.

"Yes I have!" you squeal in offense and drop your hands.

"Are you sure?" he says still smiling.

You look at him again after a few seconds and now you're sure he can see your red cheeks because when you remember that he's naked, you feel your cheeks burning again. This is so embarrassing.

"Fuck you!" you shout angrily again and rush to get out of the shower.

But his hand stops you and his touch burns into your skin. You swallow saliva as your thoughts scatter, his hand wraps around your forearm and pushes you until you fall straight into his chest. Your hands are pressed into his hard chest and your body almost brushes his.

You gazes are connected and you doubt if usually the dark in their eyes shines like this or just shines for this moment. Water falls on your skins wetting you, his arms wrap around your waist and just when you think you will faint, his lips impact yours.

The kiss is fiery, hard, needy. Your lips devour, feel and enjoy, you feel how the kiss kills you and brings you to life again and again, how your tongues caress and greet. You lose your mind and forget everything else, as if it all vanishes, as if it never existed. You are lost in his taste, in his charm. You don't want to let go, you don't want him to let go, you don't want it to end. And it doesn't because after taking one last breath, you desperately join again.

Now your hands run up his skin and you hang on his shoulders, feeling his burning skin beneath them, while his fingers squeeze your waist pulling you closer to him. You want to pull away, you want to get out of here, you remember he's drunk but you can't stop.

His lips are contagious, unhealthy, dangerous. Yet you are willing to keep kissing him. And you do it when you are desperate to feel him, to kiss him, to touch him. Who took control of your body? How is it possible? Pedro and you... here... right now...

After your trip to limbo, after tasting the temptation, you are forced to push his chest, pushing us away. You need air, you need to think. Pedro looks confused and stunned, he pulls on your hip but you stop him again.

"You're drunk, we can't go on" you warn him at his confusion. He denies but you affirm.

"I'm not" he mutters. "Not anymore, maybe before at the club but I'm fine now" he insists and pulls you close again.

You bite your lip at the temptation. You want to go on and you know he does too. His eyes watch you delicately, his touch permeates your skin.

"I was acting a little, okay?" he admits and you open your mouth. Pedro laughs a little. "No one has ever cared about me like you did at the club, I couldn't pass up the opportunity" he continued.

Your heart widens and you want to punch him.

"Opportunity of what?" you ask angrily. "Of hitting you?" you spit squeezing his chest.

"Of getting close to you" he says and your system stops.

You open your eyes in surprise. He has a smile on his face and you don't know if he's playing with you or if he really means it. Pretending to be drunk to be with you? No way.

"Ha ha ha" you laugh falsely at his confession. You can't believe him. "We better end this" you mutter somewhat angrily, you should never have continued this in the first place.

"You don't believe me?" he says when you want to let go but he grabs your elbow again. "Don't say you don't want to, I saw you tonight seeing me with your friends, they were talking about something and when I looked at you, you blushed. Even they noticed it too" he said and you bite your tongue embarrassed.

It was true, tonight Pedro looked fucking hot and handsome. If he wasn't who he is, you would have definitely approached him but he was a casanova, a famous footballer who could have any girl at his feet and you weren't just anyone. Your friends knew your tastes and always teased you about him when you all went out together, even Fermin knew that.

"We were talking about something else" you try to defend yourself.

"Yeah, right" he lets out a sarcastic laugh. You raise an eyebrow.

"And you were looking at me too" you spit remembering when you arrived. "You were watching my ass with your friends!" you squeal reproachfully.

"Yes, I did" you admit and open your mouth. "I'm not lying, you have a nice ass and everyone noticed."

Something inside you jumps. Was he watching you as you arrived? Maybe he was waiting for you? Your legs shook at the thought. You didn't want to get stupid ideas about Pedro but you knew he was right.

"What were you saying about me?" he asked after your silence.

You denied playing dumb. The grip on your elbow slipped and he grabbed your arm to pull you back to him. With a gasp from the sudden movement you fall back into his chest and his lips brush your face. You are motionless, under his control and you do nothing to change it.

"Nothing" you provoke him by playing innocent.

You're not going to stop him, you want to see how far he's capable of going and you're ready for anything. His other hand wraps around your waist and pulls you closer against his body. You can feel the heat coming off your bodies, electric currents shoot to your thighs as you remember he's naked.

The atmosphere is different from before, now you are needy, desperate, burning. The fire in his eyes infect yours and you want this as much as he does.

"What were you saying about me?" he repeated and you licked your dry lips without speaking.

The pressure in your crotch was starting to hurt, your wet clothes were starting to bother you and even though you were still dressed you felt volnerable under his gaze. You remained speechless, you couldn't, you were lost in his pink lips, in his pitch black eyes, in his slightly overgrown beard around his chin.

"We don't talk about you, Pedro" you lie again.

Pedro grimaces, narrowing his eyes. The hand on your waist presses down and lifts you off the ground, making you squeal as your back stamps against the wall. Your legs wrap around his lower back and you can feel the air turn toxic around you.

The friction generated in your crotch makes you gasp but you swallow the gasp pretending to be strong in front of him. You are so hot but you like playing with him, he played with you before anyway.

"Liar" he spits so close to your lips that you are tempted to kiss him but he won't let you.

You understand his game perfectly and if he wants to play, you're going to play.

Your fingers hold his shoulders strong and you move them down the back of his neck until you reach the beginning of his hair to stroke it. Your chest rises and falls frantically and you grab his neck to pull him to you, when your mouth is at his ear level... you decide to burn.

"I was telling them how fucking sexy you looked tonight" you whispered brushing your lips against his lobe.

"Oh yeah?" he gasps on a sigh.

You nod watching him. Again, his face faces yours and you want to kiss him but you hold back.

You don't tell him the whole truth, you'll die of embarrassment if he knew that your friends were encouraging you to get close to him. You didn't want him to know that you found him interesting.

You wait for some other comment but instead you get the caress of his hands leave your lower back and move straight to your butt, circling it. When he presses down so hard, you moan as you feel the rubbing of your center against his abdomen.

You are both ready to burn and the fire, once lit, is hard to put out. You know that even he won't come out unscathed tonight and that thrills you.

His gaze moves down from your mouth to your chest, because of the wet clothes, your lace bra can be seen to perfection and with it your erect nipples. He relames his lips and you want to be the one to moisten them, so you grab him by the jaw and kiss him fiercely.

Enough games, that's enough. And he knows it because he welcomes you perfectly by sticking his tongue in your mouth, caressing your ass while your fingers press his face to you. Everything around you stops and it's just you, in the rain from the shower, warm and ready to have at each other.

"Take my clothes off" you ask between his lips. Pedro smiles biting your lower lip, lowering you to the floor to unfasten your pants.

He delicately pulls them down your leg until they fall to the floor on their own and begins to undo the top you were wearing and pull it away from your body. You want to kiss him again but he stops you, starting to pull down the straps of your bra, playing with them. You are gawking under his control and his gaze and you can't say or do anything.

He has you trapped.

He brings his mouth to your chest and leaves a hot kiss on your collarbones, moving down to the center of your chest and finally to the beginning of one of your breasts, where he bites down making you squeal with pleasure. His other hand takes over the other nipple and presses it into the fabric, circling it to torture you. Moans come out of your mouth like music to his ears and when his hand detaches your bra, you smile like a victory. The piece of fabric disappears from view and now his lips and fingers find your needy nipples.

You want to scream, to cry, to squeeze, you can't hold back as his teeth bite and suck. You want everything from him, you need everything from Pedro. One of his hands leaves your breast to move down your belly, groping the area, making you gasp. He reaches your crotch, his fingers trail down your thighs and just when you think he'll ease your pain, he stops.

He leaves your breasts to look at you again, your eyes are pure fire when they connect with his and when you feel his fingers slip through the only piece of clothing that covered you, you are completely naked before him. You are now hand in hand and ready for anything. Your fingers grab his hair and tug it gently as you feel the heat welling up from your crotch, he likes to play with you and you won't beg for it but you will give him incentive. Your mouth takes place on his neck and you begin to lick him sensually, leaving wet trails of your tongue and biting in places to hear him moan.

Pedro slams you back against the wall to gain access to you, his body comes between yours and he lifts one of your legs to wrap around his waist. You can feel his erection rubbing against your thighs and the craving burns in your heat, you want him to take you right now. Your face returns to his as you are about to beg, your foreheads meet and you feel the tip of his cock caress your hot lips, you swallow saliva because your throat is so dry it hurts. Your arms go around his broad shoulders and you feel him thrust into you in one thrust, making you cry out and press your nails into his skin. Your stimulation and the shower water falling on your bodies made the process more pleasurable as you both pant heavily.

Your walls adapt to it faster than you think and it begins to move inside you so slowly that you think you will die. You need him so badly you don't mind begging.

"P-pedro" you whisper begging.

His smile widens and his eyes are those of the devil himself.

"Stop calling me that" he says starting to speed up his movements as if he scolded you.

You hear his complaint but you can't respond. Not when every fiber of your body fills with pleasure and you lose yourself in a blur. His movements are erratic and firm, you moan with each one and you don't let yourself be silenced, you are enjoying it and so is Pedro. Drops of water slide down your skins, your hair soaking wet, your bodies warm and moist.

Your chest heaves with joy, your heart pounds so hard in your chest you think you'll have a fit. You hug his shoulders tightly clutching at his hard strokes, you don't shut up. He's so deep inside you that you can feel the throbbing of his cock in your walls, his fingers incarnate in your skin, his mouth leaves traces on your shoulders.

The air becomes suffocating, courage floods the room, for minutes you think you will faint, your feet are tired but you don't care you don't want him to stop.

His hands find place on your thighs and he pulls you back against him to accommodate you, your back slams against the cold wall of your bathroom. He penetrates you again, harder this time as he has a perfect position to fuck you hard enough against the wall and you love that. Your hands wrap around his chest and you pinch his skin, begging for more and more.

In your mind everything was blurry, dark and confusing. You wanted to think, to try to assimilate what was happening but you were blank. You weren't thinking clearly, you could only be grateful for the feeling of release you were feeling. You were lost in his eyes as he kept pushing himself into you, passion cornered them and wouldn't let them go.

You wanted to think about Fermín, damn it. You were embarrassed at the thought of Fermín finding out you were fucking Pedro, he had heard the endless times you complained about him. If he saw you right now, he'd probably laugh in your face. From hate to love... or rather, from hate to passion, there is only one step. A very short one that ends in temptation and temptation in need.

Your grip became tighter as the pressure on one belly made you tremble, the orgasm was near and you could feel it in every atom of your body. Pedro felt it too, of course, your cries had become desperate. You moaned his name over and over again and this time, he didn't mind you calling him Pedro. It was the opposite. His lips turned into a smile as he accelerated his movements to see you explode and he did. Spasms went through your system as you reached orgasm, Pedro kept pounding in just the right place filling you with pleasure. You screamed so loud that the lump in your throat broke and you fell surrendered on his shoulders.

"Wait a little longer, princess" he whispered in your ear and you nodded.

His lips met yours again and this time you took them desperately, you had missed the sensation of the sweetness of his lips. Your mouths matched perfectly, the softness of his lips caressing, the hardness of your tongues touching. You were caught up in the moment, enveloped in the thin layer of steam dazed by the feeling of explosion. The pounding in your crotch was becoming intense, Pedro's moans were quiet in your mouth but you released his lips to listen to him.

He squeezed your ass, preparing to hold you when his orgasm would come and you smiled as you watched him pucker his face. A curse came out of his mouth and was trapped in yours as you kissed him fiercely again. You could hear him grunt as you felt him spill inside you, just like an animal mating.

His hips slowed down, making you bristle from the overstimulation, probably tomorrow your crotch would ache but you didn't mind at all. The kiss ended when his hands helped you off him, gently taking you by the waist. Your breasts heaving, your eyes sparkling and your hearts skipping.

You were a little shy to look at him again after what had just happened so much that you hid your face in his chest. Pedro sighed hugging your back to cover you. The water was still pouring down on you and now you were definitely going to take a shower. You were exhausted and sore, you weren't going to care if he took your shower gels or slept in your bed. It didn't matter anymore that you'd had to drag him home or that your friends had abandoned them. Not with what had just happened.

And you were willing to put it all aside to get him back.

Again and again.

#football imagines #imagine #football one shot #fc barcelona #pedri #pedri x you #pedri imagine #pedri gonzalez #pedri x reader #strawberryblue blog

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