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#best protest signs
teethrotter · 2 years
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a love letter to keith haring + all those affected by hiv / aids, particularly homosexual men ( + some bonus shots of pre-glaze textures )
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timemachineyeah · 2 months
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drives me up a wall living in a very very red district, like “no democrat is ever going to win any local election, let alone a real leftist” district, like “our school board members ran on who was the most anti-mask” red, like “I pass white supremacist signs on the way to buy weed” red
and being in the local leftist community and the guy who runs the anarchist book club and the lady who helps keep the warming shelters open and the people who marched on city hall when a local business was getting death threats for having a drag show are all members of a discord and we get on this discord and have frank discussions about how best to vote
the people who do the protests and the mutual aid and all the real work
going “okay, they’re both fascists, but this one lacks ambition and seems happy to just glide in the position” or “they both suck, but this one can be reasoned with if you frame it patriotically enough” like we don’t even have a democrat to vote for. we know what a vote is. we know what we hope accomplish with it. we know what it can do, and we know what it can’t.
and going from those discussions to here where people think that your vote is some kind of fucking??? enabling maneuver??? as if someone isn’t going to end up in that seat regardless of what you do???
we didn’t build this system, we just live in it. we’re just trying to survive. a vote isn’t a statement of your values, it’s not an endorsement, it’s not a marriage contract, it’s a strategic play you make to keep alive.
the biggest mistake I see leftists making is overestimating their own popularity. “well but everyone would be leftist if they just-“ no, stop, 1) you can’t possibly know that 2) everyone will not just
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bleuberrygliscor · 3 months
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re that prev post for compassion fatigue:
Genuinely, your mental health matters. you are not helping anyone if you are actively subjecting yourself to mental self-harm. take steps to take care of yourself, block the tags on your own time if you must.
but do not, do not go into someone else's house and loudly proclaim that you want a break. walk away, log off, drown yourself in unrelated tags if you need the refresher.
but come right back when you are done. when you have it in you to help, relieve those who are tired and hold the fucking line.
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batshit-auspol · 4 months
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So a bit of background first for our international followers: Clive Palmer is one of Australia's many mining billionaires who like to meddle in our country's politics, and as such he is utterly despised by all of Australia.
Picture for context:
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He is most commonly known online by the title "Fatty McFuckhead", (problematic as it may be) because he tried to sue a youtuber for $500,000 for calling him that - and he lost. So the name stuck.
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Up until his most recent foray into parliament, the legally certified Fuckhead was best known for his batshit business ventures, such as attempting to build "The Titanic 2" (failed) and trying to build a dinosaur theme park (also failed, but at least nobody got eaten by a T-Rex in this one).
For a very long time Clive played the role of sugar daddy to Australia's largest conservative party, the ironically named Liberal Party, until they had a falling out in 2012 after Clive claimed there was too much money influencing politics (lol), at which point he started his own party, days after saying he totally quit and wasn't fired and he only left because he didn't want to be a distraction.
His initial run at parliament was actually kinda successful, with Palmer's group winning 4 seats, plus a member from the "Motoring Enthusiasts Party" joined them too after accidentally getting elected and not knowing what the fuck to do.
Despite this initial success however, Palmer's party (which ran on basically no platform other than "I'm rich") hit an iceberg (titanic 2 achieved) and seven elected state and federal politicians quit within the first year.
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By the time the next federal election rolled around, only one Palmer party candidate was still running for re-election. The most successful of this group - Jaquie Lambie - quit to sit as an independant and is still in parliament today.
Here she is with a painting of herself strangling Clive (she sells signed copies of this)
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And here the senator is posting about liking sausage:
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Anyway, we're getting to the point: which is the yellow posters. By the 2016 election, just two years after forming, the party was in complete freefall. It won just 0.01% of the vote at their second election, and it was announced shortly after that Clive was quitting politics and the party was being shut down. Australia breathed a sigh of relief.
It was, of course, short lived.
Clive, in desperate need of attention, restarted the party for the 2019 election, fielding candidates in every seat and spending $60 million in advertising in an attempt to win votes.
Every single candidate lost.
It was in this campaign however that Australia really started to fall out of love with Palmer, because most of that $60 million went towards putting up the world's least compelling marketing billboards on almost every single free space in the country.
For a good six months this was basically the only thing you would see in Australia if you went outside:
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Clearly Graphic design is his passion. And yes, the genius did just straight up try and copy Trump's homework while changing a few words, hoping nobody would notice.
Very quickly these all got vandalised and it seemed the ad companies didn't care enough to replace them.
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We could go on posting examples, there are thousands, but the best is definitely the one Ikea put up shortly after Clive lost the election:
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In 2022, Clive's party contested the election AGAIN, this time also opting to send millions on spam text messages to every person in Australia begging for people to vote for him, as well as buying almost every youtube ad for a year, at the cost of $100 million.
He won a whopping one seat.
During this election Clive ran on an anti-lockdown, anti-vax platform with the slogan "freedom, freedom, freedom". That message, however, was slightly undermined when his goons, dressed in 'Freedom!' shirts, made national news for trying to beat up a protester who turned up at a rally dressed as an annoying text message, shouting "pay your workers" at Clive.
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As if that wasn't bad enough, at another rally Clive knocked himself unconscious while trying to jump up on stage, and then a few weeks later was rushed to hospital with covid, while his anti-vax ads were still in regular rotation on TV, at which point it was also leaked to the press that Palmer had been alledgedly trying to buy Hitler's car.
Utterly humiliated, the party deregistered again shortly after the election.
Can't wait until he runs again in 2025.
Anyway, on the other "Clive tweeting Miss Kobayashi's Dragon" thing, we have no idea what that means but here's a screencap:
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pearynice · 4 months
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Have some Steve whump this Thursday afternoon✨
“Mama,” Steve whispers, as she holds his hand up the front steps. “I don’ like the hugs.” He’s in his Sunday best, itchy sweater and stiff pants, shoes that hurt his toes. He doesn’t like days like this. Days where he meets a lot of people he doesn’t know, where they hug him and touch him and press kisses to his cheeks. 
“Hush,” his mom whispers, patting his hand, “they’re being nice, Steven, so be nice back.” 
“I don’ like it.” He says again, and he feels his voice begin to wobble, and he tries to swallow it down, because his dad always gets so mad when his voice wobbles. 
“Steven,” she hisses, her grip tightening around his small fingers, “do not embarrass me.”
And then the door opens. Her grip stays tight, and he stays still as people press their stuffy hugs into his skin. Stays still when tall women smack sticky kisses to his cheeks and when taller men ruffle his hair, swallowing down the wobble in his throat.
He lets it go. 
And, at the end of the party, his mom is happy. Gives him a chocolate, and tells him he’s been good.
So when his mother decorates his room the way she wants, when his protests fall on deaf ears and when his mother’s voice goes cold- when his father signs him up for baseball and football and basketball and swimming, when Steve’s concerns are swept away and his father’s gaze turns stern, when his parents treat him like a doll to be dressed up and passed around, he lets it go. Because his protests, his concerns and feelings, aren’t worth their anger. And those thoughts and feelings and concerns are always so consistently brushed away, like they’re nothing, he eventually learns that it’s not worth the breath. And his mother is so happy when his room looks the way she wants it to. His father puffs up his chest and looks proud when Steve makes varsity his sophomore year. And Steve just wants that to stay.
So boundaries are hard, because he never learned how to set them. His parents’ anger is all he can imagine when he wants to say no. His parents smiles are all he sees when he says yes to what he shouldn’t. He’s blind when others go too far. Can’t hear the difference between acceptable and not. 
Because if it makes him uncomfortable, if it stresses him out, if he doesn’t know how he’s going to manage, he swallows it down. He forces himself to accept it. Because if his parents taught him anything, it’s that no one wants to deal with him when he’s upset. When he’s frustrated over the littlest things. Over the things that other people can handle. And if it will make someone else happy, then he’s to grin and bear it.
So he’d thought he was doing the right thing with Nancy. Thought brushing away his own grief and worries and sadness about Barb is what she needed, what she wanted, because he was doing what everyone had always expected of him. What had always worked- sucking it up. Swallowing it down. Accepting it, so he could focus on her. 
But that’s not what she had wanted, in the end. Said it was bullshit. As if because Steve hadn’t talked to her about it meant he hadn’t felt it. And Steve had almost fought back, almost said his piece, almost let out the bubble of hurt and pain that he’d swallowed down and let grow for so long. 
He hadn’t, though. The bubble stayed trapped. Stayed in his chest where it made it hard to breathe on the worst of his nights. So real it felt physical, felt like if he pressed his hand to his chest hard enough he could feel it under his palm. 
Robin popped it, though. Through the drug-induced haze of Starcourt she’d wheedled her way into his chest like no one before ever had. Let his sadness and his fear and his worries wash over her, and she’d hugged him, and hadn’t made him feel stupid or small when his voice wobbled. She nodded and squeezed his hand at all the right parts, said his parents should go fuck themselves and that he’s better without Nancy, that he’s going to find someone better for him than Nancy.
It’s hard to argue with Robin, especially when she gets that fierce look on her face and squares her shoulders, sticking herself in the mud, immovable. When she says things like they’re fact. 
And after they escape, when people start saying SteveandRobin and RobinandSteve like they’re one and the same, she tells him, firmly, when he’s being a people pleaser. When he’s being a doormat. Asks him again and again what he really thinks and what he really wants, until, haltingly, slowly, he can say all of those things to her. Because he knows she cares. Knows that no matter what he says or how he responds, she’ll be by his side. That she, and she alone, will never be mad if his voice wobbles. 
~~~~~~
“I don’t understand why you didn’t tell me.” Eddie says, voice sharp. “Was your plan to just silently resent me over something I had no clue you were mad over?”
Steve grinds his teeth, like he always does when he’s frustrated, something that always sparks a migraine later. “No.” He insists, crossing his arms over his chest, “it just wasn’t a big deal.”
Eddie’s scowl deepens. “Well you’re pissed, so it’s obviously a big deal, Steve.”
But the problem is- it’s not a big deal. If Eddie had just not needled when Steve said he was fine then none of this would be happening. Steve’s anger would’ve blown over just like every other time, and they would be fine.
“Are there other things you’ve been pissed at me for that you never clued me in on?” Eddie’s voice is sharp, sarcastic, but Steve can’t help but cringe at the question. Because of course, of course there are other things Eddie does that annoy him. That get under his skin. Especially since moving in together, where stupid shit tends to pile up, much more so than when they had lived apart. But to Steve, bringing it up is just not worth it. 
“Steve.” Eddie’s voice has dropped, serious and stern, now. “You’re joking.”
Steve uncrosses his arms to rub his palms across his face. “It’s not-” he starts, voice weak, “it wasn’t like that- I just didn’t want to start something over nothing.”
“You not telling me when you’re upset is something, Steve!” Eddie’s voice rises. Frustrated. Angry. And this is what Steve had meant- it’s just easier when he doesn’t bring it up, when he can swallow down his own frustrations so Eddie doesn’t have to feel it. “When have we ever been the people who keep things from each other?” Eddie continues. And now there’s hurt in Eddie’s voice, too, distress and bitterness bleeding into each other as his cheeks flush a deep red. “Do you not trust me?”
And Steve wants to tell Eddie that he’s wrong. That Steve does trust him- because it’s not a lie. Steve does trust Eddie. Trusts him with all of the good parts of himself. With his joy and his laughter and all of the things that make him smile, but it’s different with the difficult things. The things his parents didn’t want to deal with. Things he didn’t want to burden onto Eddie. Things Steve… maybe hadn’t trusted him with. 
The silence stretches, loud and horrible, because Steve doesn’t know how to explain. Doesn’t know how to reveal what he’s only ever shown to Robin, who had done all of the heavy lifting for him in that bathroom. 
Steve worries further at his bottom lip, the skin raw and sensitive, now, but he doesn’t know what else to do. 
After too long, he manages, “I didn’t want to upset you.” His voice is wobbly and soft, and Steve knows at once that it was the wrong thing to say. Eddie looks away, his flush spreading to his nose as he drags a hand across his face. 
Eddie shakes his head. Once. Twice. “Steve, I-” but he trails off, gaze over Steve’s head. His hair is messy. The bun that his hair had started in at the beginning of the day now frizzy and unkempt, his eyes glassy and face red as he frowns into space.
“I think I need a minute.” He eventually says. “I need- fuck. I don’t even know.” Eddie picks up the keys he’d deposited on the counter not thirty minutes ago, not even needing to don his jacket again as he walks out of the room. 
Panic blooms in Steve’s chest. Because this is- Eddie’s not leaving. He can’t be. It’s not- Eddie wouldn’t just leave.
But Eddie’s grabbing his shoes. Loosening the laces on his heavy boots as he pulls them on in their narrow hallway. 
This is worse than anger. 
“Eddie,” Steve says, his voice wobbly and weak, “love, I-”
But Eddie interrupts, face properly twisted as he turns to face him. “How am I supposed to believe that!?”
Something cold and sharp spills in Steve’s chest. For a moment he can’t breathe. Air escaping him as he stares into Eddie’s crumpled face. After too long, breathless, Steve asks, “what?”
Eddie’s mouth turns down. “That you love me? How am I supposed to believe that when, apparently, you don’t even trust me enough to tell me when I’ve upset you?” Eddie’s breathing heavily through his nose, chest rising and falling as that ice in Steve’s chest expands. “How am I supposed to believe you love me if you don’t trust me, Stevie?”
Eddie shakes his head again, causing more hair to fall out of his loose bun. “I just really need a minute.” He repeats, clenching the keys tighter in his palm. Steve can see the skin of his hand turn white under the pressure. Eddie opens his mouth like he’s going to say something else, his lips parting before his jaw clicks together again. 
Eddie opens the door, and closes it sharply behind him. 
The sound of the latch clicking rings in the now empty apartment. It vibrates in Steve’s chest. In his fingertips. 
Because Eddie’s gone. He left- and Steve doesn’t know what to do with himself. 
The dinner he’d made is still sitting on the stove, going cold. The movie he’d picked up from Family Video is still sitting on the coffee table. 
Steve puts away the dinner. He stacks the movie in line with the ones they own. Between The Fly and The Breakfast Club. He puts away the magazine he’d been reading as he waited for Eddie to come home.
He goes to the bathroom. Brushes his teeth. Washes his face. Flosses. He goes to their bedroom and tosses his jeans and boxers in the hamper. Pulls on a pair of Eddie’s sweats. Takes off his socks and tosses them on top of his jeans.
He gets as far as pulling back the blankets of the bed before the tears start. A wall, preventing him from crawling under the covers of their bed without Eddie. He tries to steady himself. Tries to take big, calming breaths, but soon he’s on the ground, curling his arms around his legs and resting his head on the tops of his knees. His breathing is erratic and shallow, his tears darkening his pants.
Because this is how it has always gone. And he’d tried so hard to prevent it, this time. He thought this was different. That they were different. Thought the better for him than Nancy was Eddie.  
He just wanted Eddie to be happy. And Steve wanted to be the one to do it. 
But, in the end, he wasn’t enough. In the end, what he felt had outraged Eddie enough to leave. Steve’s hands shake at the thought of Eddie’s anger, his face twisted as he asked if Steve even loved him. But this, alone in the apartment that’s theirs, is worse than Eddie’s anger.
He breathes. Tries to keep the hiccups at bay.
He wonders why his love is always the wrong kind.
Eventually, he’s able to pick himself up off the floor. He goes into their living room and curls up on their lumpy old couch and tugs up the blanket Robin had gifted him as a housewarming gift until it’s tucked under his chin. 
He should’ve been better. Should’ve stopped the warble in his voice as he tried to explain, because he knew, really, that Eddie wouldn’t want to deal with him when he’s like this. 
~~~~~~~
I'm gonna make it better ❤️ people have asked if I do tag lists in the past and I do! If you want to be tagged, just let me know.
Part 2 (Complete)
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deadsetobsessions · 14 days
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“DIDJA SEE THAT, DANNY?!” Tim, a scrawny eleven year old now, excitedly smacked Danny’s arm.
“Ow. Yes, yes I did.”
“Oh, gosh, I have to tell Jazz about this!!” The kid waved his arms about wildly, grinning from ear to ear.
“Jaso- I mean, Robin, smiled at me! And said he liked my t-shirt!! Oh my god, he likes literature puns, he even laughed! And then he punched the bad guy in the face! Look! I even saved the tooth!”
“Okayyy, nope!” Danny plucked the tooth and tossed it, ignoring Tim’s betrayed face. “I’ll trade you that for this.”
Danny Held out a piece of paper with Robin’s and Batman’s sigil on it, from when he asked them to sign it after they “saved” the two brothers from the two-bit thugs trying to mug them.
“Oh. My. God. This is like the best day of my life!! I love you, Danny! You’re the best brother ever!! Oh my god! I have to get Nightwing’s signature!!!”
Danny felt a rush of warmth at Tim’s proclamation of affection. Ah, he should probably step in.
“Hey, wait, no, we’re not going to Blüdhaven for you to stalk another vigilante.”
“It’s not just any old vigilante-!” Tim ignored Danny’s dramatic clutching-pearls gesture of mock hurt. “It’s Nightwing. The original Robin! He gave me my first ever hug!”
Danny paused. God dammit.
“…Fine.”
“YESSSSSS!!!!”
——
Danny-
“I’m gonna be Robin whether you want me to or not!”
-is so damn tired.
“Tim. I’m literally a vigilante ghost. What makes you think I’d be stupid enough to argue with a kid who runs around Gotham at night to take pictures of other vigilantes?”
Tim deflated. “Oh. Honestly, I thought you’d put up more of a fight…”
Jazz laughed and ruffled Tim’s hair. “I definitely couldn’t stop Danny when he went out. He trusted me to support him and I trusted him to come to me if he was injured, though. Can you promise me that, Tim?”
“Yeah… okay, Jazz, I promise.” Tim promised, even if he was still pouty.
Danny chimed in.
“Oh, don’t get me wrong, I’m totally worried and I’m gonna hover like a mother hen when you go out, but again, I know how stubborn and crazy we vigilante types have to be.” Danny paused. “Do you want me to put up a token protest?”
Tim nodded, sulking. “Yes, please. I had a speech planned out.”
Jazz and Danny exchanged amused glances.
“Oh, okay, my bad, kiddo. Here, let’s start from the top.”
“Okay. Ahem,” Tim straightened his back, settling into his previous mulish expression once more. “I’m gonna be Robin whether you want me to or not!”
Danny placed an appropriately disapproving frown on his face. “No, you can’t! It’s dangerous! You could get hurt! You’re just a child!”
Tim launched into his speech. “But I can’t stay still and do nothing when people are getting hurt! Even…!”
They were gonna be here for a while. There was definitely something about Batman going on a spiral because Jason wouldn’t be able to walk again after the Joker got to him. Danny wondered if ectoplasm could help. He might offer, if it actually had a change of getting Tim out of the vigilante business.
But that’s for later, because they had time. Jazz was on Spring Break… and they’re still staying here for free, after all of these years.
“So, how are you going to convince Robin to let you be Robin?” Jazz asked Tim.
Tim froze. “I… hadn’t thought of that yet.”
“Well, you could always remind him of the fact that we saved him from the Joker. He seemed pretty ready to leave the Robin mantle, the last time I saw him as Phantom.”
“I don’t want to blackmail him into it!” Tim whined.
“It’ll just be a suggestion, Tim.” Jazz smiled patiently.
“Besides,” Danny continued, smirking mischievously at his adopted little brother. “If you were actually blackmailing him, you’d pull out the photos where he ate dirt.”
“I guess that’s true…” Tim mumbled. “I know! I’ll have to follow them to see how I can best approach him!”
"I think that's called stalking," Jazz deadpanned.
"Well, it's not any worse than what he's already done." Danny shrugged at his older sister. "Sure, kid. Why not? Do whatever you want."
"I was planning to!" Tim bounced off to grab his photography gear. Jazz stared off after him.
"Should we be encouraging that?"
"More like can we actually stop him?" Danny leaned back, lazily completing his GED assignments. Jazz sighed.
"Guess not. Make sure he doesn't get in trouble."
"Do you even know how hard that is, Jazz?" Danny complained, dodging the whack Jazz sent at the back of his head. She smirked at him.
"Womp, womp, Danny. How does karma taste today?"
Danny flipped her off as he put the last punctuation on the paper. He heard a clatter and groaned.
“I’m gonna go watch Tim stalk Batman for the night. Want anything from the store?”
Jazz hummed. “Get me the specialty strawberry ice cream, from that one place?”
“The one that’s definitely a front for Falcone’s money laundering??”
“Yeah. They make good strawberry ice cream.”
“Sure.”
Danny went ghost and flew straight through the walls to catch Tim sneaking out by the scruff of his collar.
“No. Bad Tim.”
“Awww, come on Danny!”
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ddejavvu · 7 months
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Omg could we get another part of animagus cat reader and Sirius? Maybe they’re napping together and the boys try to take cat reader as a joke/because they’re curious while she’s sleeping and she suddenly transforms back as they pick her up LOL. Sirius is grumpy to be woken up/have their special time now exposed hehe
part 1
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Sirius's bedcurtains are drawn, a clear sign that James and Remus should grant him some privacy.
Unfortunately, James Potter has never been one to take hints, and Remus strictly stays out of their shenanigans. It's only when James gasps with the entire capacity of his lungs that Remus peers curiously over at the bed in the corner, intrigue piqued when he finds a newly familiar form curled up on Sirius's chest.
"That cat!" James hisses, and he's particularly lucky that Sirius is laying on his side with your chin nuzzled over his ear, or the boy would have heard him. Instead, it's you that wakes, eyes blinking open wide as you stare at the men staring back down at you.
"Hi, darling," Remus hums softly, reaching out a tentative, scarred hand to hover it near your nose. You don't need any time for inspection before butting your head up against the heel of his palm, and he grants you a warm chuckle and scratches behind your ears. When you're not transformed, the feeling of someone toying with your hair is entirely unwelcome. But now you lean into Remus's touch, slumping relaxed once more over Sirius's ear.
"Stop hogging her," James urges, sticking his own hand less ceremoniously beneath your nose, "I want a turn."
Remus concedes with an exasperated grimace, but lets James take over anyways. He's lucky that you're you and he doesn't even know it, because if he'd tried petting any other cat by jamming his fingers into their neck, he'd be walking away with several scratch marks on his arms. But you forgive him as he tries petting you too similarly to how he pets Sirius in the man's own animagus form, all riling strokes and heavy-handed pats. You let out a soft mewl of protest when he tries picking you up, and Remus mutters something about you being the most patient cat in the world.
"Just leave her alone, James," Remus warns his friend, "Her patience is gonna wear out."
He listens for only a second, then decides he knows best.
"S'alright, Moony," He promises his friend, over-confident and too eager for affection he hasn't earned yet, "She's layin' all over Sirius, clearly wants a cuddle. You snooze, you lose, now it's my turn."
James's hand slides to your underbelly, an area you're not fond of being handled at in this form. Annoyance surges through you, prickling at your fur and making you long for the smooth expanse of your human skin again, an urge that you give into without much thought when James tries prying you off of Sirius's face.
There's a lot of noises at once. A pained yelp from Sirius, when you form suddenly weighs a lot heavier on him than it was when you'd laid down. A 'woah!' from James as your fur gives way to soft skin beneath his hands which he quickly retracts. A soft gasp from Remus who hadn't been expecting the rather unpleasant sound of transforming between bodies.
Two sets of eyes regard you with incredulity, and one blinks slowly beneath you, laden with drowsiness.
"It's you," James breathes, an air of amazement in his voice that shouldn't be there; after all, he's an animagus as well. Surely he should have noticed shifty behavior or a change in mannerisms from you. All of a sudden your preference for Sirius's softer, fluffy sweaters makes sense.
"Yes, it's me." You huff exasperatedly, perched precariously on Sirius's once-sleeping form. He's not pushing you off but you're sure it's not comfortable, so you slide yourself in front of him instead, easing back against him and letting him spoon you.
"Cat's out of the bag," Sirius rasps sleepily beside your ear, and you don't have to look at him to know he's grinning at his rather pitiful joke, "Did he try to pick you up?"
"Right around the stomach," You gripe, glaring at James while Sirius wraps his arm around the very portion of your body you'd just forbidden James from touching, "Like a toddler."
"For the record," Remus calls, "I was nice to you."
"I was nice too!" James gawps, "I just wanted a cuddle."
"Get your own girlfriend," Sirius drawls lazily, his face buried against the back of your head, and maybe it's a biting statement considering one Lily Evans is still firmly opposed to the presence of James in her life. Sirius knows, and amends it, "Or crawl into Moony's bed. I don't care, "Jus' keep your hands off m'girl."
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yandere-daydreams · 20 days
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tw - dub/con, afab!reader, cockwarming, medical malpractice, nonconsensual drug use, manipulation, unbalanced power dynamics, and obsessive behavior.
[commissioned piece. donate to palestinians in gaza here.]
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“It really is a shame to lose such a lovely patient.
His hand drifted from your thigh to your hip, rocking you back as you tried to squirm away from him. He was too deep, too big, and you’d been sitting on his cock for too long. Whenever you tried to shift your weight, though, the arm wrapped around your waist would tighten its hold and drag you back into place, leaving your ass slotted against his hips and your cunt struggling to clench around his base. You didn’t know how long he’d kept you like this, but it must’ve been longer than an hour, if not two, three, four. Despite your foggy senses, you could feel slick dripping down your thighs, an empty void in the pit of your stomach where pleasure should’ve been. You could remember hearing that Harper was a good doctor, but that couldn’t be right. Doctors weren’t supposed to make you feel so bad.
“I mean, I know it should be a doctor’s goal to see their patients off as happy and as healthy as can be, but—” He paused, sighed, and you could picture him rolling his eyes, feigning wistfulness as he let out an airy chuckle. “Good, obedient patients can be so rare, especially in a town like this. I’m allowed to mourn the loss of my best charge yet, aren’t I?”
You felt him twitch inside of you, and in search of a distraction, your gaze fell to the collection of papers fanned out over the desk in front of you. You knew you were supposed to be reading them, but the text seemed so impossibly small, and your last round of medication was still clouding your senses, making it hard to focus on much of anything beyond the throbbing in your core, the feeling of his cock stretching you open despite your body’s best attempts to force him out. You could recognize the phrases, signal out words like ‘unfit’ and ‘dependent’ mixed in with the rest of the benign text, but when you tried to put it all together, none of it made sense. It was all you could do to check the boxes Harper pointed to, sign your name on any dotted lines that hadn’t already been filled by his. You could only hope that, when you finished, he’d let you stand up, get off of him, go back to your cozy room with its nice, soft padded walls. You couldn’t imagine having to sleep in his office, again.
“And you’ve been so cooperative, too,” he went on, his chin coming to rest on your shoulder. You felt his lips against the shell of your ear, then your cheek. “Always taking your medication, always following your treatment plans, always coming to our little sessions with an open-mind – the pinnacle of an ideal patient. Honestly, sometimes I think I could tell you to stick your hand in a vat of boiling water, and you’d do it with a smile on your face. All for the sake of your recovery, of course.”
It was him moving, this time – shifting forward until your stomach was pressed against the blunt edge of his desk and he was all-but draped over you, his body pressed flush against yours. You let out a pitchy whine by way of protest, but Harper didn’t seem to notice, only humming as his hand found yours. “Almost done, little mouse. Just one more page.” He was practically cooing as he took you by the wrist, guiding your hand to the bottom of the final page. Two thick, cutting lines occupied most of the available space, his neat signature taking up the first. He brought you to the second, almost daunting in its vacancy, his index finger tapping against the back of your hand. “You remember your name, right? Can you write it for me?”
It was so hard to think, to stay awake, to try and remember a time where he hadn’t been planted so deeply inside of you. “If…” you started, only to trail off. You blinked once, then twice, and did your best to force your tongue to move. “If I do, can I go home?”
Usually, Harper hated it when you talked about the orphanage, about school, about home. You hadn’t meant to, you just wanted to go back to your room, and you moved to correct yourself, to promise that you didn’t want to be anywhere but this hospital, his hospital before he frowned and prescribed you another electrotherapy session, another dose of the small, white pills that left your thoughts blurred and your body hot. But, anything you might’ve been able to spit out died with a breathy laugh, a peck to the corner of your jaw. “Of course,” he purred, rocking his hips gently against yours. “Sign, and I’ll take you home tonight.”
For the first time in weeks, you felt yourself start to smile. Hastily, smudging the ink more than once, you scrawled your name across the brutal line, dropping the pen and going slack against Harper as soon as you were finished. There was another open-mouthed kiss to your throat, then the dip of your shoulder, and he dragged you back onto his lap with a playful squeeze to your thigh, a grin pressed into the crook of your neck. You squirmed unabashedly, now, your hands  graspingly weakly at the arms of his chair in hopes of pulling yourself to your feet, but Harper held you tight. “Where do you think you’re going, little mouse?”
“I need to— You said I could go—”
“Just give me another minute, darling.”
His cock pulsed against the walls of your cunt, and you felt something break open inside of you.
“I want to appreciate this moment before we get you to proper, brand-new home.”
2K notes · View notes
atlabeth · 1 month
Text
geyser
series masterlist
pairing: luke castellan x daughter of poseidon!reader
summary: percy learns about the first girl luke castellan ever loved.
a/n: this is a lil sad. sorry about that. but i really like it and it came out of nowhere in like 2 days so i hope you enjoy despite the sadness. title from the mitski song
wc: 6.5k
warning(s): major character death; not shown but hangs over the whole fic. angst made angstier by fluffy flashbacks. mostly told through percy’s pov but includes luke, annabeth, and reader povs
also if you saw this before on another account DONT WORRY... that account was also me. im just doing some stuff behind the scenes right now as i figure stuff out lol i promise no plagiarism is going on
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Percy thought that his head might explode. 
He didn’t know how he was still walking, honestly. His mom died, he killed a— no, the— Minotaur, all the Greek myths were real and his dad was one of them, and now he had to deal with that freak accident with Clarisse and the toilets. 
At least he would be ready next time she tried to beat him up. Percy had been the new kid enough to know there would be a next time.
All he could do was stare at the Minotaur horn in his hands, the only sign that what happened outside the border was real. The horn in his hands and the hole in his heart. 
Percy swallowed the lump in his throat. He’d been thrown into the deep end, and the only thing on his mind was when he would start to drown. 
“Hey.” Percy looked up to see the counselor he’d met earlier with Annabeth—Luke. He tossed a ziploc bag at him and he caught it, taking a moment to look at what was in it. 
“I stole you some toiletries from the camp store,” he explained. “Thought it might make you feel more at home.” 
“…Thanks.” He didn’t know if Luke was joking, but the damage had already been done. And it was the nicest thing someone had done for him so far. He set it down next to his Minotaur shoebox. “Is this the best that it gets?” 
Luke’s lips quirked up in a slight smile. “For now. We’re a little crowded, if you couldn’t tell.” 
“Just a little bit.” Percy stood up from his sleeping bag and worked out the knot in his shoulder. “Where’s your bed? Assuming you have one.” 
“I couldn’t wrangle all these cats without some back support,” he said, and he pointed to a bed in the corner. It was the only one on its own without a bunk, and he had a fair amount of decorations. Counselor privileges, he figured. Percy walked over, Luke trailing behind him. 
“Nice place,” he said. Percy picked up the Yankee’s cap on his bedside table and nodded as he looked back at him. “Nice taste.” 
“It’s for Annabeth,” Luke said. “She wanted us to match.” 
Percy nodded again in approval. “Good taste for both of you.”
Luke had various other things around — an alarm clock knocked over next to the baseball cap, a huskie sticker on the wall half-scraped off, a poster for an album he didn’t recognize. 
But the thing that caught his eye was a polaroid hanging on the wall, surrounded by a smattering of others varying in size. 
The first one had to be an old picture—Luke didn’t have his scar, and the biggest smile stretched across his face. He had a girl close with an arm slung around her waist, and she might’ve been smiling even more than Luke. A bright energy emanated around her, something that must have transferred through the picture, because Percy found himself feeling a little better just looking at her. He wondered if she was a camper. 
His eyes flicked to the next picture, which was another one of Luke and that girl. They were both laughing as she tried to put a blue hat on Luke’s head, and he protested with a hand on her wrist. They were in the forefront of a baseball game, Percy noticed.
There were other pictures, too—Luke, a girl dressed all punk, and what looked like a young version of Annabeth, most notably—but a majority of them were either Luke and that girl, or the girl all on her own. In every single one, she beamed brighter than the sun. 
Percy pointed at the picture of Luke and the girl at the baseball game, his curiosity getting the better of him. “Who’s that?”
That seemed to catch Luke off-guard, his lips parting for a moment as if he wanted to say something. It barely took him any time to get back on track, but Percy found himself frowning. 
“That’s…” Luke cleared his throat, wet his lips, shook his head. “A friend. A very good friend.”
“Does she go here?” Percy asked. 
“She did.” 
He frowned. “Where is she, then?” 
“Percy—” Luke’s voice was strained, but he didn’t really notice as he went on. 
“I didn’t see her around,” he continued, “and you look pretty close.” 
Luke blinked a couple times, and Percy swore he could see the telltale glimmer of tears starting in his eyes. A muscle worked in his jaw, and suddenly Percy was worried that he’d said something horribly wrong. He had a talent for that, it seemed. 
Fortunately, he was saved by the bell—conch shell?—and something like relief flooded through Luke’s expression. Tension still coiled in his body. 
“Come on,” he said, that camp counselor smile coming back as he put his hand on Percy’s shoulder and guided him away from the enclave. “That means dinner’s about to start.”
Percy’s frown deepened as curiosity won out again. “Was she your—”
“You don’t wanna be late,” Luke continued, ignoring his attempt. “I assume you’re pretty hungry after two days spent out?”
Well, that only made him want to push harder. But Percy figured he wouldn’t get anything out of him—especially not now. 
“…Yeah,” Percy said. “Starving.”
An odd look flickered across his face, but again, it only lasted for a second before he was back to normal. He cupped his hands around his mouth and yelled, “Eleven! Fall in!” 
Percy was at the back of the line by virtue of him being the new kid, and he found himself looking back at that picture of Luke and the girl. He didn’t know why, but something drew him to her. Before Percy could think about it more, the line was moving and his growling stomach drew his attention away. 
He would have plenty of time to ask Luke about it later. 
Or rather, ask him and piss off the only person who’d tried to be his friend so far. 
…Gods. 
Maybe he was going to drown sooner than he thought. 
-
“Luke—” 
“No!” 
“Luke, please!” 
“Annabeth will kill me if she knows—” 
“She won’t know!” 
“Alright, alright— stay still, you two!” 
Your mother laughed from behind the camera as you and Luke fought with each other, you trying your damnedest to get your Red Sox cap on his head as he tried his damnedest to stop you. The frantic laughter on both sides made it a little difficult for either of you to succeed in your quest, but eventually, you got the rock up the hill and the hat on his head. 
“Take the picture, Mom!” you exclaimed, pulling Luke even closer by his arms so he couldn’t get it off. “I need the proof!” 
“I knew this was a bad idea,” Luke groaned, staring at the camera as you wrapped your arm around his side and leaned into him. He could already imagine your victorious smile, brighter than the sun beating down on them in the stadium, and just the thought of it made one of his own flit across his lips. 
“Oh, shut up, Castellan,” you said. “You chose to come to this game. Everyone’s gonna know you’re a Red Sox fan now.”
“You said you wouldn’t tell her!” Luke defended, wrenching his arms free of your control to take the hat off his head. “I don’t even care about baseball!” 
“You care so much about it,” you said cloyingly, “and you’re ride or die for the Boston Red Sox.” 
“If you say a single word—” 
“Okay, kids!” Your mother pointed at the seats next to her. “The game’s about to start—you can keep arguing, but only if you sit down so I can see.” 
“Sorry, Mom.” You grinned at her as you pulled Luke over to your seats—they were a step up from nosebleeds, but they were the ones closest to the balcony so you could at least peer over the railing down to the diamond.
“It’s alright, sweetheart.” She glanced at Luke with a smile, and he could really see where you got it from. “We’ve gotta make him a fan somehow.” 
“I guess I can live with the brand.” Luke set the cap back on your head once you were seated, purposefully pulling the brim a little over your eyes, and he smiled at you. “Even though it looks better on you, anyways.” 
“You just don’t have what it takes to be a Red Sox fan in the heart of Yank territory,” you mused, pushing the hat back up so you could see. “It’s fine.” 
Luke rolled his eyes, but he could hardly bite back his smile. 
“I am glad you came, though,” you said, glancing back at him. “I’m glad you came with me in the first place. This is gonna be the best semester.”
“Thanks for having me,” Luke said. “It’s… it’s been a while since I’ve left camp.” 
“Fingers crossed for no monster attacks, eh?” You held up your hand. “At least, not during the game. I could live with it happening any other time.” 
“Don’t speak it into existence,” your mom said. “We’re going to have a monster-free school year.” 
To humor her, you made a claw over your heart and pushed out. She hummed in satisfaction, and you looked over at Luke. “It’s gonna be fine.” 
“Yeah,” he said. “Because two kids like us aren’t gonna draw any attention.” 
“Oh, I know we will,” you said. “But I know it’ll be fine.” 
Luke frowned. “How can you be so sure?” 
You shrugged with a smile. “I’ve got you.”
And in that moment, he was thankful for the freakish heat that honestly made no sense in the spring—at least it covered up any sign of what your words did to him. 
Luke thought you were joking when you asked him if he wanted to come back home with you for the school year. He didn’t know why you wanted to go back in the first place, being a Big Three kid that apparently had a death wish, but the thought of him leaving camp was almost inconceivable. 
Even after you assured him you weren’t joking, he still wasn’t sure. He was on the run with you for three years, then… 
Well, he couldn’t think about it for too long. But Luke had been on the outskirts of regular society for so long, doing nothing but fighting for his life, that he didn’t know if he could actually function at a normal school.
But it felt right for you two to get some normal time together after you were separated for so long. It took him a semester to decide, but one day during your usual Iris message conversations, he told you he’d love to spend the rest of the year in Boston with you. Luke still remembered the grin you wore, your disbelieving but victorious cheers, the apology you yelled back at your mother for your noise. 
Luke watched you as you talked with your mom, discussing Boston’s chances and player statistics and baseball jargon he didn’t think he’d ever understand, and he knew he would sit through a thousand Red Sox games if it meant he would get to keep seeing your smile.
You must have felt his eyes on you, because you glanced over at him. “Are you okay?” 
Luke smiled. Gods, he was so glad you were here. 
“Never better.” 
-
“That one nearly got me,” Luke said. 
Percy huffed as he picked up his sword from the ground—he was pretty sure he would officially lose his mind if Luke disarmed him with that stupid move one more time. One benefit to the Hermes cabin being too scared to associate with him after getting claimed was that he wasn’t making a fool out of himself in front of other people. 
“Maybe I can only beat you when I pour water on myself,” he said. 
Luke chuckled as he took a bottle from the cooler on the side and held it up. “Wanna try?” 
He shook his head. “I think my arms will fall off if I keep going with you.” 
He tipped his shoulder. “Fair.” 
Percy stared at the ground as Luke gathered himself, trying to put the free range thoughts roaming around his head in order. It didn’t help that he’d gained a million questions after Poseidon claimed him, and it didn’t help that there’s been a newest addition to his dream last night. 
He still felt strange asking Luke about it, but he had to know more about her. Percy didn’t know why it felt like his mission to find out who this mysterious girl was, or why he felt that strange connection to her. Maybe it was the way Luke acted whenever he brought her up, maybe it was that she’d popped up in his dream next to him at the very end, maybe it was just plain old curiosity. 
“I’m not supposed to be alive,” Percy said, breaking the silence. “I could die at any time in a bunch of different horrible ways. So will you tell me more about that girl on your wall?”  
Again, Luke seemed to be caught off guard by it. Percy heard the crunch of plastic as his hand clenched ever so slightly around the bottle, and he tried to cover it up with an arched eyebrow. “Why do you want to know so badly?” 
He shrugged. What was he supposed to say? 
“I’m curious,” he decided. 
Luke huffed a dry laugh before he took a sip of water, and he stared off into the distance for a while. He did a lot of staring whenever this girl was brought up. They looked like they were best friends in those pictures, but maybe whatever they had ended badly. And if she was a demigod too…
Well, it would make sense why he didn’t want to talk about her. 
“You know that phrase about curiosity?” Luke asked. 
“And how it killed the cat?” 
He nodded, drinking some more. “It goes double for demigods.” 
“Everything else wants to kill me,” Percy said. “So curiosity’s gonna have to get in line.” 
Luke’s laugh was a little more genuine this time, and he shook his head. “I guess I can tell you a little about her. You actually probably have a right to know.” 
“Is she a half-blood?” Percy asked immediately. 
He nodded. “Yeah.” 
“Who’s her parent?” 
Luke capped his water bottle and looked at Percy for a good, long moment. His face glowed in the warm afternoon sun, his scar cast in a softer light than usual. The scar used to unnerve him, but he’d gotten used to it after weeks staring at it during sword fighting. 
“She was a child of Poseidon, Percy,” he said. “Just like you.” 
Percy felt short of breath, like Luke had just knocked his sword out of his hand and shoved him to the ground. But he stood on his own two legs that somehow still worked, and Luke hadn’t moved. 
He had a sister? 
“I have a sister?” 
“…Had,” Luke corrected. “She… she died a few years back.” 
A vice latched onto Percy’s heart. He was still having a hard time breathing. No wonder Luke always used past tense when he was talking about her. 
He had a sister, he wasn’t alone, but he was because she was dead. And if Luke was one of her friends, that meant she died young. 
Gods. 
“What about their oath?” Percy asked, trying to ignore the aching in his chest. “I’m already on thin ice for my whole existing thing. How did Poseidon get away with two kids so close to each other?” 
Luke shrugged. “I’ve never known why gods do things. Her mother was a great woman, though—I could see what drew Poseidon to her against the oath.” 
One half of Percy wanted to ask every question that kept popping into his head. The other side of him wanted to break down and cry. 
“How did you meet her?” 
“We ran into each other when we were both young,” he said. “Both child runaways, both demigods, both New Englanders—we decided to rough it out on the road together. Couldn’t be any worse than doing it on our own.”
Percy tried to imagine it. A young Luke and a younger version of that girl—maybe Percy’s age—living together in the wilderness and fighting monsters. Surviving off of nothing but their wit and skill, facing death each day before they’d even reached middle school. 
“It… it didn’t happen then, did it?” he asked hesitantly. 
Luke shook his head. “Couple years later. All we did was watch each other’s backs out there.” 
Percy couldn’t help himself. “What happened to her?”  
“The same thing that happens to everyone,” Luke said flatly. “There’s a reason I’m the oldest one here.” 
“That doesn’t make it better,” Percy insisted. “It— it makes it worse, Luke. You see that, right?”  
Luke stared at his empty water bottle then tossed it back into the cooler. When his gaze met Percy’s, he was shocked by how… tired he looked. Beyond exhausted—bone-weary. Percy wanted to say more, but he didn’t get the chance. 
“This isn’t good conversation,” Luke said, “and it’s getting late. You should hit the showers before dinner.” 
The sun still beat down on them, bright and angry in the sky, but Percy provided no argument. He had a lot to think about. 
Before they went their separate ways, Percy stopped and looked back at him. “I’m sorry she’s gone, Luke.” 
Luke’s gaze went unfocused for a moment, his eyes growing glossy. “So am I.” 
-
Percy sat on the floor of the Hermes cabin in the corner that used to be his, staring at his meager belongings. He had to decide what to take on his quest, which was made easier by the fact that he hardly had anything to his name. Things could always be worse, though. At least he would have a change of clothes. 
He should’ve been doing this in his own cabin, but it felt too empty, too suffocating in its silence. Eleven was still more familiar. He heard the door open and saw Luke walk in, and his eyes lit up when he saw Percy. 
“Hey,” he said. “I wanted to see you before you left. How’re you feeling pre-quest?” 
“Like the world’s about to end,” he said. 
Luke’s lips twitched into a smile as he sat on the bed across from Percy. “Understandable. It kinda is.” 
“It’s just overwhelming.” Percy shoved the unfolded clothes into his backpack. “I have to clear mine and my dad’s names and get Zeus’s bolt back, or else war will start. No pressure at all.” 
“You were chosen for a reason,” Luke said. “You may not see it, Percy, but you’ve improved a lot since you got here. If anyone can do this, I think it’s you.” 
Percy looked up at him, and he was reminded of the way their last conversation went. He was asking before he could really stop himself. 
“I could die on this quest and never see you again,” Percy said. “So could you tell me more about my sister before I go?”  
Luke smiled wistfully and sighed. “You really won’t let this go, will you?” 
“It’s not really something you just let go,” he said. “Besides, I… I saw her in my dream last night.” 
Luke’s smile faded. “You did?”  
Percy nodded. “For a split second, but I know it was her. I felt the same way I did whenever I looked at her pictures. And… it’s the second time she’s shown up.” 
He let out a long sigh and shook his head, his gaze trailing off to the wall. He always looked so much older when he talked about this girl, like he was a war veteran reminiscing on his lost love. And from what he’d gathered, it might not have been too far off. 
“I told you we ran together when we were young,” he said, and Percy nodded. “We were both nine, and it should’ve been terrible, but she had a way of making everything better. Always found the bright side of things, was always able to make me laugh.” 
“She was from Massachusetts—right in the middle of Boston.” Luke chuckled as he looked at Percy. “Huge Red Sox fan.” 
Percy grimaced. “We all make mistakes.” 
Luke smiled, though it faded a bit. “We got separated for a while, but we found each other again when I got to camp. Things were more peaceful than they are now, so she’d been claimed at camp pretty quickly. I figure Poseidon wanted her to have the protection of him openly standing behind her after what happened.” 
He frowned. “What do you mean, ‘what happened’?” 
Luke shook his head. “That would be an awful story to send you off on.” 
Percy wanted to protest, but he didn’t. Luke was probably right—Percy didn’t want to make him relive it and then have to go on a death quest right after.
“A happier part, then,” he suggested.
“She ran away from home as a kid to protect her mom, but now that she had an idea of what she was doing, she started going back to school. She invited me to stay with her during the school year one year, and I accepted. That—” Luke’s throat bobbed, and the other hand clenched into a fist— “that was when she died.” 
In his stunned silence, Luke got up and went over to his alcove. He pulled the drawer open on his bedside table and pulled out a neatly folded piece of paper. It must’ve been folded and crumpled a million other times in messier ways by all the creases he could see, but when Luke opened it, he could see handwriting all over the front. 
A letter. 
“We Iris messaged each other constantly while she was at school,” he said, “and we wrote back and forth when we couldn’t. This was the last letter she sent me.” 
Percy’s first instinct was to say he wouldn’t be able to read it, but he realized that he didn’t really care. These were words that his sister wrote—he would sit here the rest of the day forcing sentences to make sense if that was what it took. 
So he took the letter when Luke offered it. 
To the one and only Luke Castellan, 
My mom said yes! After a very long interrogation (she now knows basically everything about you) and a million promises that you would be as careful as possible and that you were good enough at sword fighting to take down anything that could come after us, she said you can spend the year here. We spent a couple hours every day making my mom’s study into a guest room, so you have a place to stay.
I’m an idiot that didn’t bring enough drachmas so that’s why I have to send this letter—hopefully it gets to you soon enough, because we’re gonna come get you a week before my winter break is over. Mom is letting me drive down because she says I have to get my permit soon. It makes sense that my first big test is getting to you. If we don’t make it, it’s because we died in a fiery crash. 
Just kidding. I’m a great driver. But tell me some of your favorite songs when you reply and I’ll burn a CD for the ride—I figured out how to use LimeWire. Oh, and throw in a couple drachmas with the envelope so I can Iris message you next time. I miss your face and your voice, and my hand is cramping up writing all of this. 
But this is so exciting! I can’t wait to introduce you to all my friends at school, and show you my favorite places in the city, and make you into a Red Sox fan. And you can come to my soccer games— I’m the greatest forward there is. 
Jokes aside, I’m going to make sure you have the best time. We’ll spend every second together, Luke. We’re gonna make up for the time we lost. 
I can’t wait to see you again.
Your hurricane.  
It took Percy a long time to get through it with the words swimming all over, and it didn’t help that his vision had grown blurry. 
Tears, he realized as he blinked, and he did it again to make sure they wouldn’t fall. He couldn’t cry in front of Luke, not over a girl he didn’t even know—even if she was his sister. But maybe he was grieving that—the fact that he would never get to know her. 
“God, man. I— I’m sorry.” Percy couldn’t think of anything else to say. “She sounds like she was great.” 
Luke couldn’t even manage a smile this time as he stared at the wall. Percy was surprised he could even talk to him about it. 
“She was,” he murmured. “You would’ve liked her. And gods,” this time, a bit of a smile broke through despite it all, “she would have loved a little brother.” 
“I’m gonna make her proud on this quest,” Percy vowed. “I’m gonna clear our dad’s name for her.”
Something in Luke’s gaze had changed—sadness, almost regret. “You’re a good kid, Percy. I hope your quest doesn’t change that.” 
I hope I come back alive, he wanted to say. But given the topic matter, he didn’t. Percy carefully folded the letter back up and handed it to Luke. 
“Thank you for telling me about her, man,” Percy said. “I… I know it can’t be easy.”
Luke let out a shuddering breath as he stared at the closed letter—Percy wondered how many times he must have sat in this same position, reading her words. “No better way to honor her memory than helping her brother.” He glanced at Percy. “I see a lot of her in you.” 
He’d been wondering if he had anything in common with her. Percy felt a sudden flare of anger shoot through him—it wasn’t fair that she was dead. Poseidon was a god, and she was a teenager. He should have saved her. 
Percy’s mouth was drier than a desert. A part of him wanted to curl up in a ball and sob over the sister he never got the chance to know, but the other part of him knew—from what little Luke had told him about her—that she wouldn’t want him to. 
“I should get going,” Percy said, standing up from the floor. “We have to leave for the quest soon, and Annabeth and Grover are probably wondering where I am, and…” 
Percy trailed off, and Luke nodded in understanding. He turned around and took one of the photos off the wall—one of you alone in the middle of a park, wearing a bucket hat and absolutely beaming. 
“You deserve to have a part of her with you,” he said. “For good luck.” 
He felt himself choking up, and he pushed it down as he accepted the photo. “Thanks, man. It means a lot.”
“Good luck, Percy,” Luke said. “You’ve got a lot of people rooting for you.”
Percy found himself studying the picture of you once he made it outside, trying to memorize your face. With your wide, infectious smile that emanated pure sunlight, he could have mistaken you for an Apollo kid. But when he looked at you, he got that same warmth that he felt every time he imagined his father. 
“I won’t let you down,” he murmured. “I promise.” 
-
After sleeping in his train seat for half the day, Percy vowed to never complain about his bed in Cabin Three again. He was gonna be going down to the Underworld with permanent cricks in his neck. 
Grover was still sound asleep—Percy envied him for how easily it came to him in the worst conditions—but thankfully, Annabeth wasn’t. Her gaze was focused on the view as their train chugged along. 
Percy cleared his throat in a flawless attempt at getting her attention, and it worked. 
“You’re awake,” she said. 
“Unfortunately.” Percy sighed. “How much longer do you think it’ll be?” 
“Another day, at least,” she said. “And we’ve got a layover in St. Louis.” 
“St. Louis,” he hummed. “Nice.” 
They sat in silence for a while—there wasn’t much to talk about when they were coming off of two— or was it three, now?—near-death experiences. But eventually, Annabeth cleared her throat, taking a page from his book, and it worked again. 
“There— there’s probably something you should know,” Annabeth said, and that worked even better than clearing her throat. “You’re not the only Big Three kid to come through Camp Half-blood lately.” 
“I know,” he said. “Grover and Luke explained it.” 
Her eyes widened slightly and she leaned forward in her seat. “Luke did?” 
“…Yeah. You all already told me about Thalia.” Percy glanced away, suddenly feeling a chill in the train car. “Luke told me about my sister.” 
Annabeth went silent. 
“It’s okay,” he said. “I kind of annoyed Luke until he told me. Doesn’t really seem like a subject people at camp like to talk about.” 
“I’m just surprised he did,” she murmured. “They were… they were close, Percy. Her death destroyed him—Thalia and your sister. All of it’s complicated.”  
“Yeah,” he sighed, “I got some of that.” 
“I only knew her for a year at camp, but everyone loved her,” she said. “She was nice. Popular. Always helped when she could, always had the biggest, most infectious smile on her face.” Annabeth looked down at her hands. “She didn’t deserve the fate she got.” 
Percy didn’t think he’d ever grieved so much for someone he never knew. “But her and Luke—were they…?” 
“Yeah,” Annabeth said, “they were a thing, later on.” 
That seemed to be all she wanted to say on the matter. Percy decided not to push. 
“How did you meet her?” he asked. 
Annabeth’s lips pressed into a thin line. “I met her on the day I thought I would die.”
-
For the first time in her life, Annabeth Chase couldn’t think. 
It had all happened so fast. One second she was running with Luke and Thalia and Grover, praying to her mother and any other gods that would listen to make the horde of monsters let up even a centimeter.
The next, she’d collapsed on the ground, never so grateful to have grass and dirt and dust in her face. But she could hear Luke yelling, barely able to make it out in her delirious state—she didn’t know when she’d last had a sip of water, and they’d been running for at least three miles—but he sounded hysterical. 
She remembered her last clear thought: they weren’t going to make it. 
But they had. They had, so why was Luke losing his mind? 
Annabeth pulled herself up from the ground—how long had she been bleeding out of those slashes on her arm?—and looked for the rest of her friends. Luke wasn’t yelling anymore, instead arguing with someone she didn’t recognize in a bright orange shirt. Grover’s furry legs trembled as he stared down the hill they’d just gotten up, completely silent, and Thalia— 
Where was Thalia? 
Annabeth tried to get up but her legs gave out almost immediately, and steady arms caught her before she could fall to the ground again. Kind eyes served to ease some of her panic—she was older than Annabeth, maybe around Luke or Thalia’s age. 
Thalia— 
“Hey, you’re okay,” the voice said, and Annabeth’s attention was drawn back to you. “I’ve got you.” 
“Where’s Thalia?” she blurted out, because now she couldn’t think of anything else. 
Your brows creased and you glanced back down the hill—Annabeth did too, and she saw Grover and Luke arguing with each other. Or rather, Luke was yelling at him as Grover anxiously hooked his hands through his hair. 
“I don’t know,” you said, “but right now, I need to make sure you’re okay. Are you hurt?” 
Annabeth absentmindedly held up her arm, but she was only focused on her friends. Why wasn’t Thalia with them? Why was Luke so upset?
You cursed under your breath in Ancient Greek as you cradled her arm, and you looked back down the hill. Annabeth could see at least half a dozen other kids. 
“We’ve got two half-bloods and a satyr, one injured!” you yelled back. “Get Molly and Brayden!” 
“Three,” Annabeth found herself saying. “There’s three half-bloods—” 
“Annabeth!” 
Her head shot up at the sound of Luke calling her name as he bounded over, and her eyes widened at the blood steadily spidering across the fabric of his shirt. 
“Luke, you’re hurt—” 
“I’m fine,” he insisted. “It’s fine.” 
“We have Apollo kids coming,” you said, looking up at him, still cradling Annabeth’s arm. “We’ll get y—” 
Your sentence stuck in your throat, and Annabeth could see tears welling in your eyes as your brows furrowed. She thought Luke’s eyes might burst out of his skull as he stared at you, his lips parted but nothing coming out. Neither of you were able to form words. 
When he finally did get something out, it was a single name. One Annabeth knew by heart, one that he’d mourned for years. 
“Luke?” you whispered. 
Before he had the chance to do anything, two teenagers got over the hill and called out your name, the same one Luke used. He always said you were dead, but you clearly weren’t dead, because you were here and you had her arm in your grasp and while your hands were cold, they weren’t cold enough to be dead— 
“Molly’s gonna take care of you,” you said, looking back at Annabeth and cutting off her inner dialogue. “She’ll get you to the infirmary and heal you up, okay?” 
“My friends—” 
“They’re gonna be okay too,” you said. “I promise.” 
Annabeth looked up at Luke, and he nodded. “We’ll be with you soon, Annabeth. We— we have to talk about some things.” 
So she went with Molly down the hill, and Annabeth put pressure on her bleeding wound when she told her to—it had started to sting like hell now that her adrenaline was fading. 
She looked back just in time to see you and Luke share the tightest hug ever. 
The hug of two people who realized they weren’t seeing ghosts, Annabeth thought. 
-
You bolted up in bed, eyes wide and your chest heaving as you rapidly sucked in air. Your fingers found purchase in your bedsheets, desperate for something familiar—it took a second for you to recognize your surroundings, that you weren’t in an endless void, but your childhood bedroom offered little comfort.  
You ran a hand over your forehead, damp with sweat, as you tried to calm down. Your breathing slowed, but you couldn’t shake that awful feeling that hung over you in your sleep. 
Your nightmares were getting worse, you knew that much. That raspy, demented voice used to be a rarity, and now it appeared every night. You could usually deal with your nightmares, but the sense of absolute dread that voice and the pit fostered in you was too much. You hadn’t managed to sleep through the night once since you came home for the school year.
You could deal with the monsters—to you, this was the worst part of your godly blood.
A knock rattled on the door out of nowhere, and you nearly jumped out of your skin. The only thing that calmed you down was the thought that monsters didn’t knock. 
“Come in,” you croaked, your throat drier than a desert. 
Thankfully, a monster hadn’t come to make your night even more miserable. Luke stood in the doorway, his eyebrows creased in concern, messy curls hanging just above his eyes. He wore the Red Sox t-shirt you’d bought for him at the game you dragged him to, and in your addled state, you didn’t even think to tease him about it. 
“Are you okay?” He should’ve been as disoriented as you, but his alerted eyes told a different story. 
You could only think of one thing. “How did you know?” 
Luke’s lips parted for a moment, as if he hadn’t even considered it. “I could just feel it.”
You managed a smile despite every atom in your body screaming at you. “I think that means you can come in.” 
He closed the door behind him, and you shifted over in your bed to make room for him. There wasn’t much in a twin, but you made it work. Luke’s weight pressed into the mattress, making you adjust your position, and it was more comforting than any amount of blankets. 
“You’re so cold,” he murmured, laying the back of his hand against your arm. “How do you live like that?” 
“Blame my dad,” you said. “I’ve got water in my blood.” 
“I think that’s probably a bad thing,” Luke said, and you knocked your shoulder into his with a huff. 
“You know what I mean.” 
Luke let his hand fall back in his lap, and as you brought your knees up to your chest, you pulled the covers with them. 
“So,” Luke said, glancing at you, “what’s got you awake at the witching hour?” 
“The usual,” you mumbled. 
“Nightmares that might be prophetic?” he asked. 
You made a lazy gesture with your hand. “Bingo.” 
“The worst sense of dread imaginable?” 
“Bullseye.” 
“I’m sorry,” he said. 
You shrugged. “It’s nothing I can’t deal with.” 
“You don’t always have to put on a front, y’know,” Luke said. You felt his eyes on you. “You don’t always have to be strong.” 
“I’m naturally strong,” you said with mock austerity. “Comes with the god for a dad.” 
Luke chuckled and shook his head. “You know what I mean.” 
“Yeah,” you murmured. 
You leaned into his side, fitting your head into the crook of his neck. Luke wrapped his arm around you, pulling you closer, and you let out a contented sigh. 
That voice in your nightmares seemed so small when you had Luke. 
“Can you stay?” you asked softly. 
He didn’t hesitate. “Of course.” 
“Just like old times,” you whispered. 
“Just like old times,” he agreed. 
Luke ran hot, and you’d never been more thankful for it as you fully settled into his side. Icy blood ran through your veins, and you let out a shaky sigh. You could hear his steady breathing, feel his heartbeat through his chest, and the anxiety from earlier began to steadily fade. You never felt safer than when you were with Luke. 
There was something between you—you weren’t that stupid—but you hadn’t talked about it. With you and Luke, it was just… you and Luke. You didn’t have to put a label to it. 
How could you put a label to your relationship, when you’d spent your first few years together fighting for each day, and then the next few thinking the other was dead? 
Maybe someday, you would talk about it. But for now, this was more than enough. 
“Don’t worry,” Luke murmured in your ear as your eyes began to droop. “I’m not gonna let anything happen to you.” 
And by the gods, you believed him. 
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dear-indies · 25 days
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posted by cripthegig on instagram:
(finally) here’s the updated version of accessible ways to protest for palestine ! hopefully this will be more legible :) mentioned links and more accessible ways to support palestine in my linktree in my bio ! if you have any other suggestions about accessible action for palestine, please comment them below i’ve also amended a few outdated elements of the post. go to the original post’s comments for some really valuable extra insights on the topic ! note to say that nothing in this list will be accessible to all, it is merely a list of suggestions for more accessible action. the topic is incredibly nuanced and that can be hard to get across through the limited means of an infographic.
-
slide 1: an infographic with green imagery on a white background. dark green text at the top of the image reads ‘the revolution will be from bed’. in the middle of the image is a dark green outlined image of a double bed. in the bottom of the image is dark green smaller text that reads ‘a guide to protesting for disabled activists’
slide 2: an infographic with green imagery on a white background. dark green text at the top of the image reads ‘accessible ways to protest’. below the text, is smaller text in dark green that reads ‘for many, in-person protests are inaccessible. luckily, there are other ways to get involved. these include:’ the focus of the image is a dark green rectangle with white text inside it. the text reads ‘1. share posts on social media
educate yourself (and others)
donate
contact your political representatives
join organisations
sign petitions
boycott companies’ in the bottom of the image is dark green smaller text that reads ‘a guide to protesting for disabled activists’
slide 3: an infographic with green imagery on a white background. dark green text at the top of the image reads ‘amplify palestinian voices on social media’. the focus of the image is a dark green rectangle with white text inside it. the text reads ‘ - while social media activism is often critiqued as being performative, for many it is the only form of action that is accessible
social media can be an important tool for amplifying marginalised voices who otherwise would be ignored by mainstream media
people in gaza are urging the west to raise awareness of the emergency by amplifying palestinian voices on social media
sharing your solidarity with palestine on social media is also an effective way of combating mainstream media's bias towards israel’
at the bottom of the image is dark green text that reads ‘a guide to protesting for disabled activists’
slide 4: an infographic with green imagery on a white background. dark green text at the top of the image reads ‘educate yourself and others’. the focus of the image is a dark green rectangle with white text inside it. the text reads ‘education is a crucial part of activism that can be done from home
you can learn about palestine from books, articles, podcasts, films and much, much more
sites like decolonisepalestine.com, palestinesolisarity.org and bdsmovement.net are good places to start
social medica can be a good source of on-the-ground information from accounts like @eye.on.palestine
share these resources on social media and in person, have uncomfortable conversations
at the bottom of the image is dark green text that reads ‘a guide to protesting for disabled activists’
slide 5: an infographic with green imagery on a white background. dark green text at the top of the image reads ‘donate’. the focus of the image is a dark green rectangle with white text inside it. the text reads ‘- donating is often the best way to help global emergencies from home
however, many people in gaza have urged the rest of the world to stop donating money to gaza, as israel is blocking them from receiving any relief
instead, donations can be spent on supporting organisations outside of gaza, who are fighting for a ceasefire and an end to the occupation
money can support marches, direct action, legal funds etc.
this is a good option for crips who can afford it and are unable to participate in the action themselves’
at the bottom of the image is dark green text that reads ‘a guide to protesting for disabled activists’
slide 6: an infographic with green imagery on a white background. dark green text at the top of the image reads ‘email politicians, sign petitions, join orgs’. the focus of the image is a dark green rectangle with white text inside it. the text reads ‘- if you are in the UK or US (+ many other countries) your govt is complicit in the genocide of palestine
protest this by emailing your representatives and signing petitions
in the UK, parliament will only recognise petitions from petitions.parliament.uk
accessible forms of protest are not solely individual, many organisations also offer accessible / remote roles
in the UK, orgs to get involved with include: @palestinesolidarityuk, @palaction, @naaom and @londonpalestineaction
in the US, orgs include: palestineyouthmovement, @jewishvoicesforpeace, @adalahjusticeproject @ifnotnoworg’
at the bottom of the image is dark green text that reads ‘a guide to protesting for disabled activists’
slide 7: an infographic with green imagery on a white background. dark green text at the top of the image reads 'boycott, divesment, sanctions’ the focus of the image is a dark green rectangle with white text inside it. the text reads ' - boycotting companies complicit in israeli apartheid is another accessible way to protest
@bdsnationalcommittee is an organisation that has worked long-term on ending international support for israel
their consumer boycott targets are currently: axa, puma, carrefour, siemens, ahava, HP, sabra and sodastream
people separate to BDS are also encouraging the boycott of mcdonald's, disney and starbucks
go to @bdsnational committee for more info' at the bottom of the image is dark green text that reads 'a guide to protesting for disabled activists'
slide 8: an infographic with green imagery on a white background. dark green text at the top of the image reads 'advice for crips attending a march’ the focus of the image is a dark green rectangle with white text inside it. the text reads '- going to a march can pose serious risks to crips and it is important to consider these before attending
where they can, organisers should make efforts to ensure marches are accessible (eg an accessible route, info about accessible loos + covid caution)
plan your route (for london crips a document is made every week with info about the march's accessibility)
bring a buddy who knows your access needs
know your rights; go to greenandblackcross.org for bustcards
mask up, to protect your fellow crip and avoid surveillance’
at the bottom of the image is dark green text that reads ‘a guide to protesting for disabled activists’.
slide 9: an infographic with green imagery on a white background. dark green text at the top of the image reads 'a crip’s guide to packing for a protest’ the focus of the image is a dark green rectangle with white text inside it. the text reads ’ - a radar key to unlock accessible loos
medication (bring han expedie you're out for longer
energy sustaining drinks and snacks
earplugs / defenders for noise sensitivity
pain relief devices
check the weather - bring suncream / umbrellas and dress accordingly
a fully charged phone with a battery pack
a sunflower lanyard / pritned out medical information -a mask (ideally N95)
a bustcard for legal advice in case of arrest’
at the bottom of the image is dark green text that reads ‘a guide to protesting for disabled activists’.
slide 10: an infographic with green imagery on a white background. dark green text at the top of the image reads 'crip solidarity with palestine’ the focus of the image is a dark green rectangle with white text inside it. the text reads ’- disability justice is palestinian justice, crip liberation is palestinian liberation
all of our struggles - against ableism, against colonialism, against fascism - are connected
in 2022, at least 48,360 disabled people lived in the gaza strip, a sector of society among the most affected by Israel's attacks
israel's 17-year siege on gaza has curbed access to vital healthcare for gaza's disabled population
when israel cuts off power in gaza, this has a greater impact on disabled folk who rely on electricity for aids and mobility
disability justice cannot exist under settler colonialism
solidarity from the streets, from the home, from the sickbed, from the phone’
at the bottom of the image is dark green text that reads ‘a guide to protesting for disabled activists’.
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thebearer · 9 months
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the feeling |carmen berzatto x reader|
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prompt: a little tipsy, definitely hungry, and missing carmen, you find your way to the restaurant after closing to see him.
my first work/ blurb here <3 I hope you enjoy it as much as I did writing it!!
contains: 18+minors dni. mentions of a gun and alcohol but not in a bad way lol? established relationship. slight mentions of a dom/sub dynamic. language. but really just fluff fluff fluff <3
"Yo! We're fucking closed!" Richie's voice boomed, throwing down the rag on the table. He huffed, teeth gritting, trying to remember to count yet he was still reaching for the gun in holster. Sure, he could be calm, but he still needed to be safe.
The pounding on the glass continued, a muffled, giggly scream from the other side of the blinds hiding the entrance. "Richie! Let us innnn!"
"Cousin," Carmen yelled from the back, running a bandaged hand through his curls. "What's goin' on?"
Richard rolled his eyes, peeking through the blinds to confirm his suspicions. Just as he thought, there you were, standing on the sidewalk in fucking Chicago with your heels in your hand, leaning onto your friend for support. Carmy was gonna be pissed, that was for certain.
"It's your girl." Richie scoffed, twisting the lock so it unfastened with a loud click, the bell trilling when he pulled it open.
"Richie!" You cheered, staggering on your feet. "Told you they'd still be here." You told Alicia, looping an arm around hers.
"My girl?" Carmen repeated, pushing the swinging doors of the kitchen, heavy chef's clogs on the freshly mopped ground.
"The hell you doin'?" Richie looked at you, face deadpanned and unimpressed. His arm held the door open for you and your friend anyways, jerking his head so the two of you huddled in.
"We did karaoke tonight." You grinned at Richie, clutching the nearest booth when you passed to steady yourself.
Karaoke night was a once a month occurrence, down at Trader Todd's. Carmen had went twice with you and Alicia before, it was a little too touristy for him, but he liked watching you sing. He'd laughed so hard his sides hurt when you serenaded a Nickelback song to him because "it seemed like something he'd like". It was good, nice to laugh like that. It was nice to be with you.
Carmen furrowed his brow, hands thrown out towards you lightly. "What are ya doin'?" He asked, rag slung over his shoulder.
You rolled your lip, eyes trailing down his tattooed, veiny arms. "Just left karaoke." You hummed, striding playfully over to him. "Got hungry and I just so happen to know a place with the best fries in the world."
Carmen snorted when you looped your arms around his neck, swaying with him gently. Richie huffed, eyeing Alicia at the booth. "We're closed. Didn't you see the sign?"
"Can't make an exception for us?" You pouted, looking over your shoulder at Richie. "C'mon, we came all this way for nothing? Not a single fry?"
"You walked here?" Carmen's eyes flashed at you.
"You need a cuppa coffee is what you need." Richie rolled his eyes, ignoring his cousin's comment.
"Ooh, I'd take a cup of coffee." Alicia nodded, head propped on her hand at the freshly cleaned booth, still a little wet and sticky. "And a slice of cake."
"Mmm," You nodded in agreement, grinning at her.
"Hey," Carmen's hand cradled your jaw gently, tugging your gaze back to him. "Did you walk here?"
"No." You rolled your eyes playfully at him, curling into his calloused hands anyways. "We Ubered."
"Good." Carmen hummed, his hand pressing to the small of your back, pushing you closer into his touch. "I'd have your ass if you did, you hear me?" He muttered, low and gravelly in your ear, hand trailing down to the swell of your ass, squeezing the fatty flesh through your dress. A warning or simply just him being playful, you weren't sure, but you flushed nonetheless, knees buckling.
"Kitchen's closed." Carmen announced, looking at you and Alicia, both your boos and cries of protest a chorus bouncing off the empty walls. "But I'll make you a fresh pot of coffee and see if we have any left over cake, but you," His finger poked your side, leaving you squealing and squirming in his grasp. "Have to clean up."
"Yes, Chef." You saluted him playfully.
Carmen rolled his eyes, but pressed a sweet kiss to your lips. Brief and light, not nearly the same kiss he gave you this morning before he left for work. When you were still rolled up in the warm covers, eyes fluttering with sleep, the light of the morning on your skin.
Carmen patted your ass lightly, before turning back to go to the kitchen. You grinned triumphantly, snagging two forks and napkins before sliding into the booth across from Alicia. Richie's face fell, dropping the rag on the table he was cleaning.
"Oh, no fuckin' way. Cousin!" Richie yelled, stomping towards the kitchen. "Carmen, we're closed!"
"I got is, cousin. You can go." Carmen nodded towards the door, scooping the ground beans into the pot. "Gotta take them home anyways. I'll finish up."
Richie's face fell slightly, eyes bouncing from Carmen back to you and your friend, giggling over your phones, slumped into the booths.
Carmen looked at him, brow raised at his displeasure. "What?"
Richie huffed. "I just finished cleanin' the tables, and-and I'm tryin' real hard here to help you out and be better, but cousin, you gotta-"
"-They'll clean it up." Carmen said firmly, pressing the button firmly. "Or my girl will. I'll make sure of it, alright? I got it."
"Carmy-"
"-Look, Richie, I appreciate you helping me. I do. You've done real good too." Carmen said genuinely. "But I got it covered. Why don't you go sit with them? Tell Alicia the Bill Murray story, she'll like it." He nodded towards your friend.
Richie's ears perked, turning to look at the girl across from you. His love life was still shit, that was for sure, bad date after bad date. "You think?" Richie asked in a low tone.
Carmen shrugged casually. "Sure, yeah. Watch. Hey, baby," Carmen called to you. "You ever told Alicia about when Richie met Bill Murray?"
"Oh my God, no." You giggled, head tipping back onto the booth.
"Wait," Alicia looked over at Richie with a small grin. "Bill Murray? Ghostbusters, Bill Murray?"
"Yes, holy shit, Richie you hafta tell her." You giggled, tapping the table lightly. "He got him to do his voicemail and-"
"- Hold on, you gotta start from the beginning or it'll make no sense." Richie held his hands up, sauntering over to the two of you. "Alright, so I'm absolutely hammered. It's six-forty-five in the fucking morning, me and Mikey are leavin' the bar just drunk outta our minds..." Richie pulled a chair up to the table, exaggeratedly launching into his story.
Carmen smirked to himself, cutting two slices of cake and plating them off the still warm, clean dishes. He could hear Richie's voice trilling louder and louder, your laugh a delicate melody that soothed his chest, filled it with warmth.
Carmen slid beside you, just in time for the voice mail, setting your coffee and plate next to you. You muttered a small thank you, pressing a kiss to his cheek before you moved into his side.
"No shit, it's still your voicemail?" Alicia gasped, eyes shining at Richie's
"Swear to God." Richie held his hands up. "Call it right now, you'll hear it."
Alicia looked over at you. You nodded, picking up your fork. "It's true."
"Well, now I gotta hear it for myself." Alicia declared, snatching her phone off the table. "What's your number?"
Richie flushed for a second, faltering before he sputtered out the number. You looked up at Carmen, brows raised in amusement. He shrugged lightly, pushing the coffee closer to you. "Drink it f'me, please."
You cradled the still steaming mug, lifting it to your lip while Alicia's jaw dropped, hearing Bill Murray's voice on the other end. "Oh my God!" She gasped, laughing. "That is so fucking amazing!"
"Thank you!" Richie threw a hand out to her. "It is fucking amazing. My proudest accomplishment- well, beside my daughter, of course, but a close second."
"How old is your daughter?" Alicia scooted closer, lashes batting towards Richie as he pulled out his phone to flick through photos.
You smirked, looking up at Carmen. "Thanks for the cake," You hummed, resting your head on his arm. "And the coffee."
"Anything for you, c'mon." Carmen shrugged, trying to hide the blush he felt rising in his cheeks. He hadn't done this before, really, had a relationship like this. One that felt this good. One where he felt this safe with someone.
"I'll clean it up, promise." You yawned, lashes fluttering, while your head fell heavier and heavier pressed on his bicep. "Hand wash 'em if you want me too."
"I know you will." Carmen muttered, shimmying his arm out so he could wrap it around you, letting you fall into his chest.
He didn't let you clean up, though. You stayed half awake, a little woozy and sleepy in the booth, listening to Alicia and Richie's playful flirting. You'd tried to get up, but he snatched the plate gently from you before you could, nodding at you to stay put.
You held his hand the whole way back to the apartment, resting in the center console, his thumb brushing over your knuckles. Richie had offered to take Alicia home, which she eagerly agreed to, leaving the two of you to return to your own place.
Carmen shimmying your dress off you gently, tucking you under the covers with him. The apartment didn't have the same haunting presence here that his old one did. Not tainted with nightmares or fears. No, here he felt good. Happy memories he'd created with you, loving ones that filled his chest with contentment. He still had his moments, waking in a cold sweat screaming and clinging to you, but they were becoming scarcer with each day. He took care of you, and you took care of him- it was everything he'd ever fucking wanted.
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strvngeweather · 2 months
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How to Get Rid of Your Virginity; a one shot.
💘PAIRING: badboy!jungkook x theaternerd!reader 💘GENERE: College AU, smut, a little fluff 💘WORD COUNT: 4.6K 💘WARNINGS: Smut, smut, and more smut. 💘SUMMARY: You've always been the good girl who followed the rules but you're ready to shed that image and lose your virginity to the college's resident bad boy: Jungkook. 💘AUTHOR'S NOTE: Apparently, I really got into my feelings with this fic. A bit of sweetness at the end but mostly smut. I hope you enjoy!
Opposites attract – at least, that’s what your best friend, Elena, had told you. She had provided you with solid proof too.
“Just take a look around,” she had said, a cup full of vodka and cherry-flavored juice in her hand, motioning toward the various partygoers. She pointed out an art student cuddled up with a girl who looked like she belonged on the arm of a footballer. “That’s Taehyung. His girlfriend is the ‘All-American Girl’ type and he’s a huge nerd. But they’re in love.”
You nodded. “Okay, they’re the exception.”
She shook her head, taking a long sip, wincing at the burn of the alcohol. “Okay, what about them?” She pointed at Jimin. Jimin was your textbook Type-A worker bee. He was known to avoid large social gatherings like this but here he was, leaning against a wall, his girlfriend in his arms. He kissed her lightly on the neck before grabbing a hearty handful of her ass. “That is our resident party girl cuddled up with our best scholar.”
“He’s a fine scholar,” You admitted, and Elena agreed. “Okay, so what’s your point?”
“My point,” Elena began, taking another long sip. “Are that people from different sides of the track get together all the time. Cheerleader and nerd, party girl, and punctual pupil. Nerdy theater geek and super delicious bad boy.”
You were the nerdy theater geek she had been referencing and the delicious bad boy? That title belonged to Jungkook.
You glanced over at him. He was standing between Taehyung and Jimin, effortlessly chatting the night away. Jungkook had been on your radar ever since you started attending this university two years ago. He was an upperclassman, so you didn’t run into him often but when you did, you savored every second you got to gaze upon him. The man was beautiful. But make no mistake, this was not a crush. You thought he was sexy as hell, but you weren’t into him. You were a future Broadway star and Jungkook? Well, you don’t know what his future entailed but it was starkly different from yours. You were sure of it. There was no way you two would work out romantically.
You wanted him for different reasons. More carnal reasons. You wanted him to take your virginity.
But, while you wanted him, you weren’t sure if he wanted you. You didn’t look like his type – you assumed. But Elena was attempting to convince you otherwise.
“I just don’t think he’d be down for it,” you said with a shrug. “I mean, he’s not into girls like me.”
“He’s a man!” Elena said, her voice raised. You knew that was a sign that the liquor was kicking in for her. “He’s into any girl who wants to bone him! Go over there!”
Elena pushed you toward him, but you stopped, glaring at her. “What would I even say? ‘Hey, Jungkook, wanna fuck?’”
Elena nodded and gave you a blank stare. “That sounded perfect. What’s stopping you?”
You groaned. Of course, Elena would think that’s an acceptable way to approach a man but before you could protest, she was signaling Jungkook to come over. Your eyes widened, a mortifying feeling washing over you.
I could kill her, you thought, I could kill her and bury the body beneath the school’s theater.
Jungkook looked at Elena, a confused look etched across his handsome features. Then, he did the unthinkable. He began to walk over.
He stopped just short of the both of you, the wallflowers for the night, and smiled. “Good evening, ladies, how can I help you?”
Elena nudged you and you opened your mouth to speak but found only your pride, self-respect, and the last shred of confidence falling out of your mouth and onto the floor to be stomped on by a slew of drunken college students. Elena, noticing your mouth open and a dazed look on your face, rolled her eyes and blurted out, “She wants to fuck you.”
This is it, you thought, this is how I die.
But it wasn’t.
Because Jungkook’s eyes raked over you, a hint of lust clouding behind them, and smiled. “Oh, really?”
You nodded, fear and excitement striking into your heart.
Elena continued, “She’s been waiting to make a move all night, but she’s been too afraid to.”
Jungkook looked at you. “Consent is sexy, so I have to hear it from your mouth.”
You swallowed thickly, slowly nodding. “She’s not, I mean, I’m not –” You stopped, taking a deep breath. “Yes. Coitus is something I’d like to experience with you – I mean, if you’re up for it.”
He held out his hand. “Well, let’s go experience it.”
“Right now?”
“Why not?”
You looked between him and Elena searching for a reason as to why now wasn’t a good time to get your back blown out, but you couldn’t find one. Not a good one, anyway. So, you put on a brave face, took his hand, and let him lead you upstairs and into the nearest empty bedroom.
You didn't know who this bedroom belonged to as it had no signs of life. A basic dark wood dresser hugged the right wall, a few sports posters lined the walls and a simple full-sized bed with white and blue bedding sat in the middle of the floor. Jungkook took a seat on the bed, and you sat next to him, unable to meet his eye.
“Come here,” he said, cupping your face and drawing you forward.
He wanted a kiss, so you followed his lead, but your nose bumped into his. “I’m so sorry!” You said in a panicked voice. “I – I didn’t mean for –”
“It’s okay,” he said through a small laugh. Another attempt at a kiss was made but instead of bumping noses, you bumped foreheads. He rubbed his forehead, scrunching up his face. “Maybe we skip kissing,” he said, standing up. “How about this instead?” He began to climb on top of you. You readjusted yourself, hoping to make things flow more smoothly but you ended up kneeing him in the stomach.
“Fuck, I am so sorry!” You said as you watched him grit his teeth.
“It’s okay,” he said once again and rounded the other side of the bed. He took a seat and laid back. “Why don’t you come lay beside me?”
You nodded. You got up and laid down next to him.
“Why don’t you lead?” Jungkook suggested and you silently agreed that that might be for the best.
You began to get up but found your elbow stabbing him in the chest.
This was going horribly.
“Are you sure you want to have sex?” Jungkook asked.
“I do,” you said quietly, biting your lip. “I’m just really nervous.”
Jungkook narrowed his eyes at you. “Why are you nervous?”
You chewed on your bottom lip, avoiding his gaze. How do you tell one of the hottest guys on campus that you’re a virgin? A lonely loser virgin?
“If it’s me, then there’s nothing to be nervous about,” Jungkook said. “I’m not as experienced as everyone says I am. I mean, I have had sex with quite a few people – all safe and consensual of course – but I’m nothing like the lothario people say I am. I mean, I’m just –”
You cut him off. “I’m nervous because I’m a virgin.”
The room went quiet. Too quiet. Embarrassingly quiet. If there was a God, he would have taken mercy on you and allowed the world to swallow you at this exact moment. But no, mercy did not shine a light on you this day.
“And you wanted me to take your virginity?”
He seemed more surprised that you had chosen him as your virginity taker than the fact that you were still a virgin. Regardless, you nodded. “Yeah, I figured if I was going to lose it, I might as well lose it to someone hot.”
His cheeks flashed a crimson color. “Don’t you want your first time to be special?”
You scoffed. “First off, virginity is just a construct and secondly, it would have been special no matter what because it’s my first time and I was in control. Besides, I’ve got a bucket list to finish this year.”
Jungkook looked at you. “Oh yeah? What else is on your list?”
“Smoking weed. I’ve never been high before.”
And just like that, Jungkook produced a blunt out of his back pocket. “You’re in luck. Listen, I don’t think the sex thing is going to happen tonight, but I can smoke you out.”
You felt relief wash over you. There was still hope. He said it wouldn’t happen tonight not that it wouldn’t happen ever – hey, it may have been delulu but you were going to take it and ride off with it into the sun. You watched closely as Jungkook lit the blunt, taking a few deep inhales, holding it in, and then exhaling, coughing along the way. Your first few attempts at smoking the joint were failures but after the third try, you got the hang of it. You also coughed a lung out but the serene feeling that flowed through you a few moments later was worth it.
The blunt had been reduced to a roach and you and Jungkook were lying on the bed, laughing and talking about everything under the sun. You learned he was a film major and planned on moving to Los Angeles after graduation to pursue a career out there. When you told him you wanted to be the next Audra McDonald, he didn’t laugh or tease you like so many others had before. He thought your love of theater was cool and asked you a million questions about it. He found it impressive that you could hold such high notes while doing intricate choreography. Finally, a silence settled over the two of you as the green forced you both into an extreme high.
“Can I ask you something?” Jungkook’s voice was like molasses, thick and slow. Or maybe you were just so damn high that’s how you heard it.
“Mhm,” you hummed.
“What’s the farthest you’ve gone?”
“Like traveling?”
He shook his head. “No, I mean … with sex.”
“Oh,” you replied. “Um, I’ve jerked a guy off before.”
“Have you …” he began but trailed off. He turned his head to look at you, attempting to gauge your reaction. “Ever received oral?”
You shook your head. “Nah.”
“You want to?”
You froze, and a sobering feeling hit you like a pillow full of soap. The idea of getting your coochie licked sounded damn good right now, especially with the weed in your system. “Yeah, I mean, I guess I’d like to try it one day.”
“How about today?”
You could still feel Jungkook’s eyes on you. Well, shit. You had already crossed one item off your bucket list. Might as well cross another. So, you said, “Yeah, let’s do it.”
Within seconds, Jungkook was between your legs, lifting your pleated skirt to your hips and sliding your baby pink panties down. Your body froze as you felt a finger slide in between your slits. “A virgin who shaves,” you heard him muse, mostly to himself. A thumb began rubbing your clit and a gasp escaped your throat. Before you could say something else, his tongue was on your lips. Your … other lips. It darted out, parting your lips and flicking against your clit in a feverish way.
Your back arched in response and you felt as if all the air in your lungs had left your body. You found your hands gripping the white sheets as he buried his face deeper between your legs, his tongue sliding in and out of your hole before traveling up and down your slit and finally focusing back on your clit. The sensation became a little too much and you squirmed away, hoping to ease some of the intensity but that only made things worse. Jungkook wrapped his hands around your thick thighs, pulling you closer, spread your legs apart further, and kept his hands gripped on your thighs, ensuring you wouldn’t be going too far. “Don’t run from it,” you heard him whisper.
You’re not sure how long he was at it but by the time your world turned white, you were making noises only a dog could hear.
. . . . .
It wasn’t in your nature to willingly be a third wheel, but the town’s annual spring fair was here and there was no way you were going to miss it. Even if Elena insisted on bringing her boyfriend, Felix. The night wasn’t all bad though. You had spotted Jungkook hanging with a few of his friends and the two of you waved at each other. It had been three weeks since the party and the two of you had kept in contact, texting each other funny memes here and there, sometimes talking on the phone late into the night but nothing more, nothing less.
As the three of you waited in line for the Ferris wheel, you noticed that the ride only allowed pairs. That took care of Elena and Felix but what about you?
“Can you believe that? Since when has the Ferris wheel been limited to two people at a time?” You turned around to face your best friend, but she wasn’t listening. She was too busy using her tongue to excavate Felix’s mouth. You groaned. “Of course, you two would choose now to suck face.”
The line moved forward, and it was your turn to get on. The ride operator gave you a pitiful look. “You got a partner?” He asked but he knew the answer to that. Just as you were about to step out of line to die of embarrassment in a dark and quiet place, your knight in shining armor appeared.
“I’m her partner.”
Jungkook. Sweet, sweet, Jungkook. Sweet, delicious, Jungkook who smelled like heaven and was wearing a red button-up shirt that showed off all his muscles. What? Sue you for noticing!
Jungkook held out his hand and you took it, the two of you loading on the ride and strapping in. Elena smirked at you as the ride began. The ride slowly lifted you and Jungkook up a few feet and then paused, allowing Elena and Felix to board.
“Thanks for saving the day,” you said with a smile. “The Ferris wheel is my favorite ride.”
“No shit, mine too,” Jungkook replied.
Your eyes brightened. “Really? You don’t seem like the type.”
“What type do I seem like?”
“A coaster man.”
“I like coasters too,” he admitted. “But something about the Ferris wheel just calms me, you know?”
“Yeah,” you said. “I get that.”
“So, how’s your bucket list going? Cross off anything else?” Jungkook asked as the Ferris wheel began moving again and then paused, allowing another couple on.
“I have,” you told him excitedly. “Elena and I went skinny dipping two days ago.”
“Damn, I’m sad I missed that one,” Jungkook said with a cheeky smile. “Still a virgin?”
“Still a virgin.”
Jungkook looked at you, his eyes falling to your exposed legs. You were wearing a plaid overall dress and a long-sleeved white shirt underneath. You wondered for a moment if he was judging your fashion choices until he licked his lips and you saw the lust clouding his eyes. “Ever been fingered?”
You shrugged; a sheepish smile found its way to your face. “Only when you ate me out that one time.”
“But never in public?”
“Of course not.”
He looked at you, his eyes begging for permission and as the Ferris wheel began moving again, forcing you and Jungkook to the top, his hands found their way between your thighs. He rubbed your core through your panties. You felt him lean over, his lips brushing against your neck before peppering kisses across your chin. You couldn’t help but giggle as he pushed your panties to the side, and you felt two fingers slide up and down your already-wet slit.
You felt your heart beating faster in his chest when he slid a finger inside and used his thumb to rub circles on your clit. The sensation was quickly becoming too much for you. Especially in public of all places. But as the Ferris wheel worked its way down, you were as well. Your orgasm slowly washed away as the ride finally came to a stop, allowing you and Jungkook to get off.
“Thanks for the ride,” you told him and in response, he kissed your cheek and made his way back to his friends.
It was official: You and Jungkook were friends. Like actual friends. You talked to him just as much as you talked to Elena, if not more. You had met his friends and his friend’s girlfriends. You spent time at his apartment. He smoked you out at least once a week and the last time the two of you decided to go on an impromptu diner trip, the waitress mistook you for a couple.
That’s why it wasn’t a surprise when he accompanied you to the library today. You both had papers due and decided to study together. However, you found that the two of you didn’t get much studying done and instead spent most of your time together making jokes and trying to steer clear of the librarian’s wrath.
In an attempt to get some serious studying done, Jungkook suggested getting a table at the back of the library. As you followed him to the back of the library, you noticed a couple, deep within the library aisles, where students rarely went, getting it on. You stopped Jungkook, tugging on his sleeve. “Look!” You whispered. “Oh my god, isn’t that Jimin?”
An approving smile pulled at the corner of Jungkook’s lips. “Yeah. Ever since he met his girlfriend, he’s become such a horn dog.”
You couldn’t take your eyes off the couple. Jimin had his girlfriend leaning on a bookshelf for support, her pants pulled down to her knees and his face buried between her ass cheeks. You hated to say it but it kind of turned you on. Jungkook took your hand and pulled you along.  
“He’s not afraid of getting caught?” You asked.
Jungkook shrugged. “I don’t think so. They fuck in the library all the time. That’s actually how they became a couple. He was her tutor.”
You felt a pool of heat settling in your core, forcing a weather change down under. “God, that’s hot.”
Jungkook stopped walking and looked at you. “You want to try?”
“You mean, fucking in the library?” The idea excited you, but you weren’t exactly sure you wanted to get fully plowed in public yet. “I don’t know about penetration but … maybe some head would be cool.”
Jungkook licked his lips. “I can’t lie, I’ve been wanting to taste you again.”
You shook your head as he led you further into the book aisles. “No, I mean I want to give you head.”
He stopped. “You sure?”
“Yeah, teach me how to suck dick,” you said and then cringed once you heard the words. “That didn’t sound as sexy as I hoped it would have.
He smiled, licking his lips. “Say less,” he pulled you into a corner and unzipped his pants. He pulled his jeans and boxers down but only slightly and produced his semi-hard dick.
“You’re already excited?” You asked and then realized this was your first time seeing his dick. No wonder he was known as the lover, you thought, grabbing it and feeling the weight of it in your hand. “Well, shit.”
“You ready?” He asked and you nodded, slowly dropping to your knees.  He guided you lovingly on how to properly give head but also explained that everyone was different so the way he liked it wouldn’t necessarily be the way another guy liked it. But the way he liked it was known as the ‘vacuum suck.’ He wasn’t into the bells and whistles of sloppy head but preferred something nice and clean and something that felt like his soul was being sucked out of him.
And that, you did. Or at least you gave it the old college try.
You stroked his large dick, your hand running up and down his thick shaft as your tongue flicked over his head. Precum painted your lips as you attempted to slide his entire member into your mouth. It wouldn't fit and Jungkook didn't force it. Above you, he squirmed in delight, his hands threading through your dark locks, gripping ever so slightly.
“Touch my balls, baby girl,” Jungkook said through a low grunt. Your pussy does backflips at the sound of being called ‘baby girl’ but you can’t linger on that too long. Jungkook has your head in his hands and he’s slowly but surely fucking your face. “Agh … I’m going to cum …” He began to pull his dick out, but you didn't let him, instead you did something that you’ve seen countless times on Twitter memes. You suck harder and you kept sucking well after he came. You’d never heard a man squeal before but you’re sure that’s what Jungkook did before you finally popped his dick out of your mouth.
Summer was steadily approaching, the weather going from tolerable to the heat of the devil’s ass crack. It’s why Jungkook had suggested that the two of you head to the coast for the weekend. “It would be way cooler out there,” he had said, and you couldn’t argue. So, on a Friday evening, you climbed on the back of his motorcycle and the two of you headed off to the beach for the weekend.
As two broke college students, you didn’t have enough money to afford a fancy hotel, so you settled for a run-down motel room, but it was clean, and the bed was comfortable enough. Jungkook had purchased every snack in the vending machine that night and the two of you shared stories over eight-dollar bottles of wine, BBQ chips, and sour gummies. After finishing off your second bottle of wine, Jungkook lit up a blunt and the two of you shared it, laying back on the motel room bed with the shabby television playing a novella in the background.
“Y/N, I think you may be my best friend.”
“I think you may be right,” you agreed, laughing.
“I can’t believe school will be ending soon,” Jungkook said.
“I know. What am I going to do without you?” you said, a genuine sadness reaching your voice.
“We’re going to stay friends. You’ll come visit me in Los Angeles and I’ll come visit you in New York. You’ll be there when I receive my first Oscar and I’ll be there when you get your first Tony,” Jungkook said with a smile. And you could hear the sincerity in his voice. Even if none of that happened, in this moment right here and right now, Jungkook believed it did and that’s what you loved most about him.
You always thought love was like an arrow. Shooting you in the heart, causing you to instantaneously know that you had fallen but looking at Jungkook in the darkness of this shabby motel room, you realized love wasn’t like that at all. Love was slow and easy. It was sweet. It was kind. It was a soft spring day. It was impromptu trips to your favorite diners. It was sharing secrets in your most special places. It was laughing to your belly ached in the back of a car. It was trips to eat your weight in sushi and then getting ice cream even though you swore you couldn’t eat another bite. It was wiping your tears away at four in the morning because you didn’t get the role in the school play. It was sitting up all night with each other watching the sun rise because he was too anxious to sleep. It was the perfect and it was the imperfect. It was nothing and it was everything. It was you and it was Jungkook.
And right here, right now, you realized that you were in love with Jungkook.
“Jungkook,” you said, looking at him and he turned his head, smiling that beautiful smile. “I love you.”
He stared at you for a moment, studying your features. A hand reached out and cupped your cheek. “I love you too, Y/N.”
You scooted closer to Jungkook and kissed him. It was a soft and sound kiss. Slow and sensual. And he kissed you back with just as much patience. Your arms and legs tangled together, and soon you found your clothes melting away. You felt his lips wrapped around your nipples, his tongue going across your stomach. His hands stroking your pussy with an excruciating softness. You felt his muscles flexing beneath your fingertips, the weight of his manhood in your hands and then in your mouth.
His body reacted with such pleasure as you gave him head. You sucked slowly, making sure every inch of his manhood was wet with your spit. Jungkook stopped you early, citing how much he still wanted to taste you so you laid you on your back and spread your legs, exposing your most sensitive parts but Jungkook shook his head. He guided you on top of him, and you lowered your precious gem to his face. He licked hungrily. Savoring every drop of you. His hands found their way to your round ass and groped the fleshy curves as his tongue dug deeper into you. An electric wave of pleasure washed over you, your body writhing in sweet agony.
As you lay down beside him, he got on top of you. “Are you sure?” He asked. “If you don’t want to go this far, we can stop right now.”
But you didn’t want to stop. You wanted this. You wanted him. You silently nodded for him to continue and Jungkook rolled a condom onto his hardened dick. He positioned himself at your entrance and quietly said, “Here we go.”
He started slowly. You felt an indescribable pressure in your lower abdomen as he continued to slide in but it wasn’t bad. It was just different. He used his right hand to play with your breasts.
His pace quickened. You closed your eyes, biting your lip as the pressure waned, and in came pleasure. He lifted your legs and placed them on his shoulders. This new angle forced a new sensation to bubble within you. It felt amazing but there was a heaviness to it that you couldn’t quite describe. His hand found your clit, rubbing circles on it as he began to fuck you faster. You didn’t think you could cum twice in one night, but Jungkook proved you wrong. A few short moments later, Jungkook’s face tightened, and he let out a deep grunt before falling on top of you. After a moment, he rolled off.
“So how was it experiencing coitus with me?” Jungkook asked, breathing heavily.
You couldn’t help but laugh. “It was amazing.”
“I’m just glad you didn’t beat my ass this time.”
You cringed, thinking of the night the two of you met. You rolled to your side, putting your arm around him and your head on his chest. In response, he put his arms around you as well, pulling you close.
“What does this mean for us?” you asked.
“It means that I hope you accept when I ask you out on a date,” he said, kissing the top of your head.
“I’ll have to think about it,” you said. “I’ve got one more thing to cross off my bucket list.”
“What’s that?”
You motioned toward the window in the room, outside of it, the beach. “Sex on the beach times two. I want to drink the drink while doing the act.”
With a smile, Jungkook got up and put on his pants. He looked at you, “Well don’t just sit there, let’s go have sex on the beach while we drink sex on the beach.”
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captjprice · 2 months
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Simon who isn't really that big on pda but still wants to make sure everybody knows you're his, wants to make you feel loved even if he isn't the best at expressing it :(
Always a sneaky hand in your back pocket, or a firm grip on your waist. He'll be sure to give it a squeeze if he thinks someone's too friendly with you— Your sign to end the conversation and press a kiss to his forehead while you whisper a "Love you."
Simon who, when on leave together always carries all of your bags despite your protests. He's sure you can do it yourself, but why have his pretty thing suffer if he could do it for you?
Simon who is an absolute sucker for the brief kisses in-between moments, always tilting his head so perfectly so you can stand on your tiptoes and kiss his forehead, or maybe let your lips ghost across his temple.
Simon who gets (in his opinion) embarrassingly emotional over seeing you interact with children, because even though you two haven't been dating long he'd love to have a family.
He's scared to ask— mostly because he's not sure if he's even qualified to be a father. But you see right through him, like an open book and you tell him he'd be a great dad to your future kids.
Simon who would do practically anything if you just asked him to. Hungry? He'll make you something. Oh, you don't have it at home? He'll run to the store for you. Cold? He's probably already got an electric blanket ready for you. Not feeling well? That's alright. He'll call you off for work.
Simon who loves lazy mornings despite his new years resolutions being to get up at 6 everyday to go for a morning run. He just can't do it, not when you're so peaceful, huddled up next to him. He'll take you into his arms, peppering kisses on your face and dozing off again.
Simon who enjoys the aftercare almost as much (if not more) as the sex. Getting to take care of you, especially after something so vulnerable makes him feel warm. Brushing your hair out of the way, kissing the tip of your nose as he runs the two of you a bath. Cleaning you up after, making sure you're comfy enough to crawl back in bed with him and have a good long nap.
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lovers-rck · 2 months
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modern au where you accidentally send ellie, your bestfriend, a nude PT3
pt1 here , pt2 here pt4 here
n/a finally.
ellie was lying on her bed. her eyes were closed, her mouth was mumbling the words of the song softly, not wanting to take the spotlight away from the voice that sounded through the record player.
outside, the sun was shining at its brightest, burning the people who dared to walk under its reign.
"uhg i love that song" ellie murmurs as the song ends.
"it's good" you agree. a bead of perspiration ran down the valley of your breasts "it's too hot in here. can you open the window?"
ellie nods and once it's done she throws herself back on the bed hard, bouncing you up and down. she giggles dumbly.
"you can put on your bikini if you want, you left it here the last time we went swimming"
"so that's why i couldn't find it" you can see how ellie smiles slightly "where is it?"
"second drawer on the right"
"got it."
you find your bikini folded neatly in the drawer next to her t-shirts. the bathroom feels a thousand times hotter than the whole house, so you hurry to put on your bikini top and go back out to ellie's room. she's still in the same position, singing songs from an album you don't know.
"we should go swimming again" you say as you walk in, your bare feet against the floor "it was fun"
ellie partially stands up with the help of her arms and watches you, walking around her room in your bikini top and shorts. the photo incident had already been forgotten in your mind, but ellie was still thinking about that moment.
even though she assured you that she had deleted the photo, the truth was that she still had it in her gallery, feeling guilty every time she looked at it.
"sure" ellie said, abandoning her gaze on your body "if you want to drown yourself again"
"i didn't drown" you protested "that wave came in unexpectedly"
you lie down next to her, staring at the ceiling just as she does, separated by inches. ellie's almost-kiss comes to mind, but you dismiss that memory as quickly as you can, trying not to fantasize about something that isn't going to happen.
she's your best friend. just that.
it isn't long before the album comes to an end, burying the room in a deep silence. The air is uncomfortable for ellie, who feels the need to speak up and confess her sin.
"i didn't delete the picture" she says after a few minutes.
you furrow your eyebrows and look at her "what? which picture?"
ellie abandons her gaze to the ceiling and looks at your breasts, and then at you "you know..."
the answer hits you "oh"
"i'm sorry" ellie says "i had to tell you, it doesn't feel right"
you look up at the ceiling again "why didn't you delete it?"
you hear ellie laugh lightly "isn't it obvious?"
you feel your heart in your throat, ready to come out the moment you utter a word.
"it's not obvious to me"
an immense heat takes hold of ellie's body, a heat that is not due to the temperature outside. she feels her cheeks redden and her lips feel extremely dry and suddenly the ceiling looks so interesting that she want to watch it forever.
"well..." in your eyes, ellie doesn't look as confident as usual, more vulnerable "i think i like you."
"you think?"
"okay, okay" ellie snorts "i like you"
"it's just weird" she continues "i mean, it feels weird that you like your best friend, you know? i don't know, i haven't stopped thinking about it since you sent me that picture"
you don't say anything, and ellie takes that as a bad sign.
"i'm sorry" she mumbles, looking at the ceiling and wanting to hit her head "i shouldn't have said that. i would leave if i could but it's my home so...."
"can you kiss me?" you speak and ellie looks at you
"what?"
ellie analyzes your gestures, looking for some indication that what you are telling her is a vile joke that you can both laugh at later, or pretend to laugh at.
"a real kiss this time" you say and ellie smile embarrassed as she remembers "kisses on the corner don't count"
"shut up. I didn't know how you were going to react."
"you didn't even see my reaction! you ran into the living room!"
they both laugh uproariously, although ellie laughs mostly out of embarrassment.
a few seconds pass. fifteen seconds if you ask ellie.
"well, are you going to do it?" you mutter.
ellie stands up and moves closer to you, leaning on one arm to support her weight so she doesn't fall on you. you can feel her confidence return as she provokes your lips by gently brushing hers across them but not making full contact.
"ellie" your voice comes out as a strangled moan.
and she finally kisses you.
the warmth of her lips impacting against yours and sending you into a dreamy spiral. her hands hold you as if you are going to disappear, encircling and touching your skin.
everything about her touch counterbalances her personality. her touch is kind, gentle, soft, and it's ellie's
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sayruq · 3 months
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One of the best things about the Ansar Allah enforced naval blockade, besides the economic harm being done to Israel, the rest of the world being forced to isolate Israel, America's might crumbling at sea, and other countries like Malaysia being inspired to act, is that it forces people to keep talking about Palestine.
In the first month of the genocide there was so much pro Palestine fervor, more than I had ever seen before. Many zionists were consoling themselves by outright stating that the rest of the world would get tired of seeing the conflict and move on, allowing Israel to act with impunity. And unfortunately all signs were pointing to that. Pro Palestine content was starting to get suppressed on social media. The protests got smaller and smaller.
Then Yemen started seizing and attacking Israel linked ships because Israel was committing genocide against Palestinians. Every single statement put out by the Ansar Allah group mentions the genocide, makes sure that everyone knew that's why they were attacking those specific ships. Multiple large shipping companies had to change their routes. Israeli port city of Eliat is practically a ghost town now. America has tried and failed to form a coalition that can take on the Yemenis (for the second time in a decade, the first time being the Saudi-led coalition that has destroyed large parts of Yemen and caused the deaths of over 300,000 civilians).
Suddenly, the whole world was affected by the genocide. It's impossible to ignore it which means the protests, boycotts, disruptions at companies that are arming Israel, etc are still on going. People are still talking about Palestine on social media. More importantly than all of that is countries being forced by their citizens or their own interests to call for a ceasefire. Would Canada or the UK call for a ceasefire if their citizens and the world at large had stopped paying attention to Gaza? Definitely not.
Every UN resolution ends on the conflict the same way - almost every country in the world calls for increased humanitarian aid to Gaza as well as an end to the violence, except the US and Israel. Rather than isolating Palestine, the two countries are isolating themselves and losing a great deal of soft power in the process. I doubt this would have happened this quickly without the naval blockade.
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etfrin · 4 months
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❝pleas — coriolanus snow❞
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dom(-ish)! fem reader | tw: pinv sex, unprotected sex, creampie, dacryphilia, subby! Snow, dun con if you squint, bondage, edging | masterlist | a/n: i was horny
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You wondered briefly if you should shove your panties in his mouth. Coriolanus was getting louder by each second, each moment the pitch of his whimpers and whines getting louder and louder. He had been incapable of words for a couple of minutes now, his cheeks covered in tear stains with more salty tears following the trail. The poor boy had been enduring this for hours and hours.
Your need has gotten the best of you. Your lust for Coriolanus Snow won and you successfully had him trapped beneath you, his hands tied so he couldn't fight you if he so desired. He hadn't wanted it at first when you were riding him.
He wanted to be on the top, however Coryo couldn't reject you when you asked him with your wide eyes that you wanted him to pleasure him for once. You said you will do all the work while he gets a stunning view of your bouncing tits and his cock fucking into your wet cunt. And what you said was true enough, you were doing all the work by rocking your hips back and forth on his thick cock, your walls getting deliciously stroked by his length.
However, what he hadn't known before this started was that you were going to cage him. Milk him dry, and have all of his cum, all of it he had inside of his balls to be filled in your womb. It is your desire and you shall have it. What he didn't know didn't hurt him. When you suggested tying his hands with the ribbon that kept your ponytail together. He didn't have in his heart to protest, not when he was balls deep inside of you and ready to burst from how perfect your pussy felt around him.
He was too busy thinking with his dick so he didn't bother thinking about the consequences of his agreement. You wondered if he was regretting it now when you have continuously edged him several times. It was obvious when he was about to cum, his lips parting to gasp, his pupils getting impossibly wider, and how his cock twitched and each vein of his length throbbed against your walls. Such signs were not easy to miss and you took full advantage of it, halting your hips just as he was about to cum.
When you had first denied him of his orgasm, he was confused. His blue eyes glazed, his eyebrows furrowing and his lips whispered, “I was- why did you stop?” You didn't reply to him, your hips beginning to pick up pace again when his orgasm starved off. When you did it again, he trashed against his bonds. “Untie me,” he demanded, a hint of anger in his eyes, annoyance filling his tone.
Again, you didn't say a word to him, too cockdrunk to care about him. You wanted to take, take, take. Taking is something you learned from Snow, he should have been more careful if he didn't want this to happen. He couldn't break past his bonds, the knot remaining tight and his hands remained bound.
He tries to fight it, he truly does. He wants to cum. Why are you denying him? Stop. Stop. He tries to fight it by thrusting into you but you put a stop to his actions, placing your weight firmly on him so he couldn't rut into your warm, tight pussy. You glare at him and a whine, a fucking whine escapes his lips. Finally, you have him right where you wanted.
Under your fucking mercy.
The next hours are a blur. You keep edging both him and you every time either of you are getting close to cumming. It was torture, delicious perfect torture. When the tears begin, you lean forward to lick the salty trail, a moan escaping your lips as your hips begin to pick up speed. Your pussy fucking itself harder on his cock.
He was too proud to beg, no matter what, it's a problem for another day you think. The fact that he was crying so pretty for you, his lips letting out whimpers and cries that made your cunt squeeze his dick like it was made for it. As if your cunt was a fleshlight or in this case, his cock was a dildo for you to fuck on however you pleased.
You whispered to him when his cries got louder and could alarm Tigris. “Sshh. . .” You said, “You're gonna cum soon. I promise. I promise. I just want a heavy load, baby. That's it. It's gonna be over soon, take it. You can do it, Coryo. Coryo, it's fine.”
This brought you to your present, wondering if you should shove panties inside of his mouth to stop his cries. But he sounded so fucking pretty, how could you? You decided on something else then. You close the gap and kiss his lips, taking in his tongue and messily kissing the man back. You take in and get drunk on every sound he makes, every time he moans into your mouth you reward him by clenching your pussy making him flinch from the oversensitivity of being edged for so long.
The pleasure of it all was bordering on pain. Your pussy pulsating against his cock wanting to cum, cum, cum while his cock throbbed against your walls with the same desire. You decided to have mercy on both of you, more for you than him. A part of you wished to see him reduced to this every night and your mind was already thinking of ways to do so.
But right now, you drag yourself up and down on his cock, not stopping when you feel the heat coil up again, even Coriolanus begins to ramble, “Fuck- fuck- don't stop. Don't stop!”
You'll make sure to teach him some manners by next time but this was of urgent manner. Your fingers buried themselves into his golden locks and you went faster, the sound of skin hitting skin echoing in the room, the squash the sound that your pussy makes every time you take his cock to the hilt. You pray that your moans won't wake anyone up.
As the tension gets closer to snapping, his rambles turn into desperate pleas. You were enjoying the begging too much to tell him not to worry, that he was going to cum and you were getting to take every drop of his cum because your pussy was greedy.
When he finally cum, he cums hard. A near scream leaves his mouth causing you to put your palm over his lips to stop the relieved cry as your pussy spasms around his cock, milking his length dry just as you want. The load was heavy and thick, white hot ropes of cum shooting inside you and covering your walls. It was so much that despite his dick being still being inside of you, his seed leaked out coating your skin.
As you were catching your breath, your bones jelly. Coriolanus pushed his face between your breasts, sobbing and gasping. “Thank you,” he murmurs.
Huh, perhaps he doesn't have much to learn, perfect as he is.
You kissed his hairline and whispered, “That's a good boy” and you swore that you felt his dick fucking twitch inside your cum covered walls from the praise.
What a good boy indeed <3
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