#i'm like what if i can't impress him :///// as if he hasn't asked to be one of my mentors. he literally already thinks i'm just fine

[aakeysmash]

prompt:

sukuna skipping gym to sleep in and later on does his workout in their living room, using her as a weight when doing push ups, may turn heated hehe

college Sukuna's masterlist

turned this into a college!sukuna drabble lmao sorry!! no smut this time, i wanted to elaborate a bit on sukuna's protectivness toward yuuji :)

You're humming a song from your studying playlist when you hear someone knocking at your door. You look at the clock you keep on your desk near a plant Yuuji gifted you last week. On the terracotta vase there's a scribbled note in the obvious handwriting of a child.

To: baby peach, but no more annoying screams when we play, please!

You smile. He always chooses to be baby mario when you play Mario Kart together because he doesn't want you to feel alone in case you're the only baby character. He's such a cute kid, you're lucky to have him as one of your almost-roommates.

You get up (it's still pretty early anyway) and stretch your back, hearing it pop. You open the door, and standing in front of it is the same kid you were thinking about.

"Hey," you wave at him, a happy tilt to your voice. You look at him shuffling and avoiding your gaze.

"Is everything okay, Yuuji?" you start getting worried. He mumbles something you don't hear clearly, so you make him repeat himself. He juts his lip out, then looks straight at your face.

"Can you take me to school please?"

You raise your eyebrows. Usually, this is a big brother kind of duty: where is Sukuna? Yuuji takes your silence as rejection and starts backtracking.

"Sorry, I didn't want to disturb you, I can just go alone-"

"Sure, let me grab my purse and we can go," you stop him, changing your expression to one of calmness, ruffling his pink, unruly hair.

"Are you sure it's not a bother?" he asks you hesitantly. "Big bro closed his door and I can't seem to be able to wake him up... and I'm supposed to be accompanied by an adult..."

"It's not a big deal, Yuuji. I'll take you in my passenger seat, okay? We'll be there shortly," you reassure him, nodding.

"Thanks," he says, blushing, giving you one of the biggest smiles you've ever seen him do. Your heart melts a little, and he looks at you like you've physically hung up the sun shining outside.

When you get back home, you're not even able to get to your room when you find yourself being squished between the nearest wall and a hot, rapidly rising and falling chest.

"Where the fuck is my brother?" Sukuna grits out his teeth, breathing down your neck. You wince. He's controlling his strength, but he's still a mountain compared to you, and your ribcage is starting to hurt.

"Get off of me right now or I'm calling the police, Itadori."

He notices he must have been too rough and takes a step back, mumbling an apology while still looking at you menacingly. You pat your clothes, making sure there are no wrinkles before answering him.

"I took him to school. He told me he was being neglected by his own caretaker, so I had to intervene," you shrug.

"He did not say that. He doesn't even know the word neglect," he says, sighing. His shoulders drop and he takes on a more relaxed appearance.

"What's wrong with you? You've never gotten up later than 6 am," you ask him, trying to sound nonchalant, walking toward your fridge to make yourself a toast. The truth is, you're starting to get attached to him. In the last couple of months, you've created some sort of bond, and it's probably also thanks to Yuuji and his stubbornness in making you do things like you're a family. Just last night, he forced you both to make cookies with him because apparently his friend Megumi was coming to play this afternoon and "he wanted to make a good impression".

Sukuna, on the other hand, can be a lot. The majority of the time he nudges you to get you to move out of his way (he just does it to see your annoyed face, but he's not going to tell you that), huffs in your face when you say he hasn't cleaned his dishes from the night before, and flips you off whenever you try to have a civil conversation about who's turn it is to choose the film on Friday night. But he's also pretty attentive. It's not like he makes you notice it, but he does feel bad for you when you get out of your room after an all nighter because of your studies. He thinks you're annoying because you're always trying to pry into his private life, but when you're not home Yuuji always asks of your whereabouts. Yeah, that's definitely why he can't stop thinking about you laughing with the boy he literally raised. The boy whose disappearance was driving him insane this morning.

Because sure, Sukuna tells Yuuji he's a brat 95% of the time, and the kid yaps way too much for his taste. He also manhandles the kid badly, telling him he's way too weak to be called his brother, and more often than not Sukuna tells him he's adopted and that he'll kick him out as soon as he can. But you've seen the way he prepared soup every night when his little brother caught the flu in December—he's just full of shit. He'll never admit how hard it was to raise a brother he didn't want at 13, alone and broke. But he'll make sure the child never doubts of having someone to fall back into like Sukuna did since he was much younger than Yuuji is now.

"Didn't sleep well and I missed the gym," he responds, munching on an apple. You hum in acknowledgment, not turning around from the stove.

"You know that pilates class you suggested to me last week? I found their videos on YouTube. I was thinking of starting them today," you quickly change the topic. You know you won't get more than that; him admitting he didn't sleep well was already a win.

"Wanna start them with me, chipmunk?" he asks you. You turn around to slap his arm slightly.

"I told you to stop calling me that," you say rolling your eyes.

"No."

You whine. "Yes, by the way. I want to see you suffer like the men I see on TikTok."

"Come be my weight and I'll do pilates with you today," he suddenly says. You're biting your toast and you're so caught off guard that you start coughing up crumbles. He hands you a glass of water while telling you you're too fucking dramatic.

"What does it mean to be your weight?" you tentatively ask him when you can breathe properly again.

That's how you find yourself sitting crisscrossed on his back, gripping his shirt as hard as you can, while he does pushups and tries not to laugh every time you scream about him moving too much and almost making you fall.

[hopelessdazai]

✿ 》 To Hold or Be Held?

╰⧼ 🪻 note.. ⧽ ; writing witj this many characters was scary . pls ignore any typos or errors or mischaracterisation im learning. reblogs appreciated!!

╰⧼ ☀️ features.. ⧽ ; Chuuya, Dazai, Atsushi, Akutagawa, Nikolai, Fyodor, gn!reader ( fem terms in fyodors and mentions of boobs in nikolais parts )

╰⧼ 🌙 contents.. ⧽ ; fluff, cuddles, all those nice things, nikolai being nikolai, possible mischaracterisation

dazai

dazai doesn't have a preference. he enjoys both being held and holding you for the same reason. when he's holding you, he's holding on tight - part of him is still scared you're gonna leave him if he gets too comfortable. and if you're holding him he always finds himself melting into you, his hands shakily gripping at your clothes as he smothers himself against your chest. he adores how your hands find his hair and comb through it. if he puts all his weight onto you, you can't go anywhere, right?

".. 'm sorry .. don't get up, just five more minutes. I'll be good ..- you're warm .. 'm sorry.. "

chuuya

chuuya prefers to hold. be adores the feeling of you in his arms, it makes him feel like he's protecting you from the known - blanketed by his strong embrace. he traces 'I love you's on your back knowing you're too comfortable and sleepy to know what he's writing - his thumb writes his name into your hip when you think he's just rubbing circles. little possessive things like that, just to quietly manifest that you stay with him. he can press a gentle kiss to the top of your head and tease you for being so clingy ; even though he's holding you tight too.

".. you need the bathroom? .. you can hold it, jus' stay with me for a while longer .. I love you .. pretty thing you are .."

atsushi

atsushi prefers to hold. while he won't ever deny being held, usually he finds himself pulling you on top of him to keep you in his embrace while he takes a nap. your head on his chest and his arms resting around your waist, while he gently purrs to soothe you to sleep with him. he hasn't been able to take solo naps since you've been around - and he knows you enjoy resting with him too, anyway. so what's the harm when he tugs you over to the detective agency couch and asks you to take a quick break? you've both been working hard , after all.

"let's have a quick break, okay? we can stay finish everything later .. you're gonna exhaust yourself out, sweetheart .. just 10 minutes .."

akutagawa

akutagawa prefers to be held. he'll never admit it to anyone, especially not to you. but you can see the way he relaxes and sinks into you when you wrap your arms around him. the way he takes a long exhale and his shoulders deflate as your hand traces a certain spot on his back. he likes listening to your heartbeat, he likes knowing you're alive and with him for who he is - and not what he can do. he's still learning to love and to trust, but it's a little easier when it's by your side. he hopes you wont leave him, he'll work to impress you as he grows.

".. what? no, I'm not falling asleep. you're imagining things. you .. mm .. can you do that again ?"

nikolai

nikolai doesn't have a preference. he's like a big dog, despite his size he'll absolutely lay himself on top of you and nuzzle into your chest. if you have boobs then he won't be moving for a while, so kiss your oxygen goodbye. whenever he wants to hold you, he's not really one to ask ; he'll just drag you over onto him or use a portal to drop you into his lap, then he's clinging to you and whining desperately whenever you try to leave. he's just big and clingy, but can you fault him? he finds you so comforting.

" .. where are you going? no! you can't leave .. do you not love me anymore ?.. why do you wanna leave !.. just stay with me .. thank you .."

fyodor

fyodor prefers to hold. if neither was an option, it'd most likely be that. but he regularly asks you to come sit on his lap while he works. a small whistle as he turns his chair, patting his thigh - and he'll wrap an arm around you to keep you close. he's not too affectionate, and too much touching before your marriage repulses him. but he'll learn to deal with these little moments for a while - it gives him his energy back and helps him with a little push to finish his work so you rest together.

" .. зайчик .. come here. no, I'm not finished. just come. don't be disobedient , now .. there we are. good girl."

[zweiginator]

college!patrick corrupting innocent reader……………… gawd

thinking about this but like. him bringing art in. needs his best friend to enjoy this too!!!

oh fuck because i'm thinking that patrick wants to teach you how to give head. the only problem is that he doesn't trust himself. he knows as soon as you're swirling your tongue around his tip and moaning around him with those big watery eyes of yours--he'll start fucking your throat. he can't control it and it makes him want to be the guinea pig so much fucking more. you're such a good little student; he knows you'd take it like a champ. but he'll be good.

you don't realize patrick has an agenda here. that he has strategically thought out everything he wants to teach you and put it in the order that makes most sense. it feels sleazy to him that he hasn't even seen your pussy. hasn't felt that velvety skin against his tongue, your silky wetness coating his fingers or his cock.

but he assures himself that waiting will make it better. and patrick doesn't tell either you nor art what's on his little agenda. he just tells you to come over around seven. shoots art the same text.

so you both wait outside his door. neither of you have knocked yet. you notice how art's cheeks are dewy and pink, a mixture of his proximity to such a beautiful girl, and remnants from the five mile run he just completed.

you introduce yourself.

art wipes his clammy hand on the back of his grey t-shirt and slips his palm into yours

"i'm art. it's nice to meet you." his voice is soft. he's handsome in a way that is different than patrick, but you can't quite put your finger on why that is. maybe a fundamental difference in their first impressions with you.

patrick was unabashed in his actions. aware of his effect on other people. willing and able to use his charisma to get whatever he wants in a way that borders on manipulative but couldn't quite be classified that way.

art has more trepidation. but he still has confidence in the way he carries himself. his shoulders are back, his posture near perfect.

"are you here for patrick?" he asks, breaking the silence.

"yeah," you answer, looking at the time. 6:59. you and art are very timely. "he told me to come over at 7."

art fumbles with his phone, pulling it out of his shorts pocket. it's hard to see with the glare of the late spring sun, but he shows you the text patrick sent him. it's verbatim what was sent to you, and you tell art this.

"weird. are you guys dating or something?"

you shrug. "no, i don't think. just hanging out."

art knows what that means. and he chews on the inside of his cheek. his jaw pops.

"how do you know each other?" it's your turn to ask questions.

"he's my best friend." art knocks on patrick's door for the third time before crossing his arms over his chest. you sense more urgency in the way art is acting. "we grew up together, played tennis all throughout childhood and here we are."

"patrick plays tennis?" you notice art's t-shirt and hat. it's on backwards, but it's embroidered with stark white lettering. stanford tennis. "i didn't know that." you feel small, realizing you don't know a huge part of patrick's life. naive to his hobbies and talents and his best friend. maybe you overestimated your role in his life.

art senses your disappointment in how your voice falters.

"he's not a very open person. hence why we're both here right now. dumbass probably sent me the text by accident." art kicks the door. "pat! open the fucking door, man! it's hot out here!" the veins in his neck tremble as patrick flings the door open.

"come in, come in." he ushers you both inside.

so he really did mean to text art.

he sits between you both on the couch and puts his arms around you and art. spreads his legs wide and lets out a deep sigh.

you and art look at each other, confused. but neither of you speak up just yet; perhaps its a subconscious nod to the fact that patrick is in charge here. a way to foreshadow.

"she's pretty, isn't she artie?" patrick turns to his best friend and you see him flush a deeper shade of pink.

"um, yeah. she is." art responds.

you swallow. both of their legs are spread wide, to the point where you barely have room to fit on the couch. it seems rude, but then again, maybe patrick is doing this on purpose.

"and artie?" he turns to you this time; his broad, strong torso almost obstructs your view of art behind him. "he's handsome. lots of girls think that."

you nod. "yeah, he is handsome." it's innocuous enough. and you wouldn't lie, of course not.

"what's the deal here, pat?" art says it breathily. like he knows patrick has a trick up his sleeve.

"we've been having some lessons." patrick says, only to art, as if you're not there. "i taught her how to kiss."

your breath hitches. is he going to tell?---

"and i taught her how to give a handjob, just last week. her first one ever."

"patrick this isn't my business." art shifts uncomfortably, watching the clock on the wall tick, tick, tick.

"but there's still a lot to learn for her." patrick continues, unfazed by the obvious discomfort in the room, the shifted mood that seemingly affects everyone but him. because again, he's in power. it's his prerogative. and here you both exist, at his mercy.

you're awfully quiet, but you stay that way.

"i want to teach her how to give a blowjob." patrick says it as he picks lint from his shorts, like it means nothing. and it makes you want to do it. to impress him and stay on his radar. not to be a temporary plaything.

so you lean into patrick and press a kiss to his neck, open-mouthed at the part that makes him shudder and melt. but he pulls away from you.

"not on me, sweetheart."

you look at him, bewildered. art shares the same expression, except his jaw is clenched and a pearly bead of sweat trembles over his browbone.

"on him."

art can't pretend he isn't intrigued. maybe he should put a stop to this. put his foot down and say no to patrick. except he wants it. and god, he hopes you want it to.

art looks at you, his lips parted and pink to match the supple skin of his cheeks.

patrick watches you two. has a look on his face that reads well what are you two waiting for?

you crawl over patrick's lap so you're leaning over his body. using him like a bridge. your hands grip onto patrick's thighs until you find balance. art sits up straighter, meets you in the middle so patrick has a perfect view of your profiles.

art cups your cheek and pulls your bottom lip with his teeth before sucking it into his mouth. you feel his jaw move, opening wide so he can envelope you in an open-mouthed kiss that sets your body on fire. patrick watches spit dribble down your chins in a messy meld of kisses, of tongues, of hands all over each other.

patrick grabs your wrist, the one that rested on art's jaw, and plants it square on art's erection.

neither patrick nor you expect the carnal groan that emits from art's throat.

[ofstarsandvibranium]

Strangers No More

Fandom: Star Wars - The Acolyte

Pairing: Qimir x GN!Reader

Summary: Weeks after your first encounter, the strange man comes back to your shop looking to purchase something else. This time, he doesn't come alone.

The Stranger in My Doorway

The strange man had left an impression on you that seemed to effect you every day. As each day passed since your first meeting, you were hoping he'd stop by again. He intrigued you and you wanted to know more about him. The days turned into weeks and you eventually stopped looking forward to seeing the man again.

Then appeared in your doorway again right before closing.

"I was wondering when you'd show up again," you say leaning forward onto your counter, "I take it the poison worked?"

"It did, but I'm here for something else," he says as he starts perusing through one of your shelves.

"A stronger poison?"

"A sedative," he responds lowly, picking up a bottle and reading its contents.

You tilt your head in curiosity, "You want to put someone to sleep?"

He places the bottle back and fully turns to you, "A colleague of mine hasn't been sleeping well. They've been having nightmares. In our line of work, it's not safe to go without proper rest. Can make us reckless and unaware."

You nod, "Understood. Well, I have benzodi. Somatoll if they need something stronger. Also have renatyl but I usually reserve that for the bounty hunters."

The man looks at you curiously, "And how do you know I'm not a bounty hunter?"

You shrug, "You didn't give me that impression."

He licks his lips and smirks, slowly approaching you like he did when you first met, "And what impression do I give off?"

You front door suddenly opens and you take a step back from the man. In walks a young woman with a purple hood on and braids cascading down her chest. She looks at you for a moment. Her stare is hard and cautious. Then her focus goes to the man, "Qimir, what's going on?"

The man sighs, "Why did you follow me?"

"You were being suspicious," the young woman stalks towards the man, whose name you now know is Qimir. She eyes him and then looks at you, "You're the one who gave him the poisons?"

You don't answer, looking between her and the man. The man sighs again, "This is Mae, my colleague. Your poison helped her on a mission."

"Why are you here again?" Mae asks Qimir.

"You're having trouble sleeping. Master wouldn't like it that your head and body weren't fully rested."

"I'm fine," she sneers.

"How about hypnocane? It can help ease your mind and stop those nightmares you've been dealing with." You move around the counter and head to some shelves on the right side. You pluck two bottles from the shelf. You scurry back behind the counter and place the bottles in front of you. I have it as pills or in liquid form."

Mae swipes up the pills looking at the contents written on the bottle. Without another word, she pockets them and heads for the door.

"You're welcome?" you say as she walks out.

Qimir pulls out his money pouch, "I apologize for her. She can be...stubborn." He sets five hundred spira onto the counter, "For the trouble."

You take one and push the rest towards him, "It's only worth a hundred spira."

He pushes the money back towards you with a smirk, "Then take the rest as compensation for Mae's behavior."

You can't help but snort, "With the amount of Batuuan spira you seem to have, maybe you are a bounty hunter after all." You collect the chips and pocket them, "Pleasure doing business with you again, Qimir."

His lips twitch up, as if wanting to smile. He nods, "And you, Y/N," he says before turning around and exiting the shop to follow his colleague.

You stand alone now in your shop. Your fingers playing with a spira chip and then you realize...you never told Qimir your name. So how does he know it? Did he ask Batuuans about you? The thought of him asking about you made your stomach do a tiny flip.

There's something about Qimir that just draws you to him. He's piqued your interest and you don't know why. Like before, you hope to see him again. Hopefully, sooner than later.

[gaypirate420]

Little sound // Jasper W. Hale

Jasper Whitlock Hale x male!reader.

Summary: You question vampiric sleep while Jasper makes a little sound.

A/N: Breaking Dawn Jasper deserves more love, me thinks.

Angst/Fluff.

"Which pillow do you want?" You asked him while you made space for him on your bed, Jasper pointed to your thighs.

"These ones, please." He spoke with a smirk, you chuckled and take off the blanket that lay over your legs.

The blonde vampire smiled and he went down, placing kisses on your thighs before he opened them gently and lie down his head on your stomach.

Jasper seemed tired, mentally at least. You're not sure if vampires get sore muscles or something like that but he needed to lie down and relax, it was evident from a mile away.

The vampire sighed heavily, his cold breath hitting you, his hands quickly got to caress your warm skin.

"I missed you." You spoke softly as your hand got to his recently cut hair.

"I know, I'm sorry, been busy with— Bella." Jasper scoffed.

Tired, he was so incredibly tired, done even, done with everything and it made you sad because it was something out of your human control and comprehension.

"What's with her?" You asked curious about his reaction, it was very out of character from his part.

"She got turned, darlin'— she just— has this crazy control over her newborn instincts. It's impressive— but-" He said bitter, almost angry, not angry no, jealous.

"But— Am I not trying hard enough? Or I'm just unfixable?" Jasper asked softly, very softly almost like he didn't meant to say that, his tongue betrayed him completely and revealed his thoughts.

"I think you're trying hard— the hardest you can— you have come a long way, Jasper. I'm proud of you." You spoke serious. The vampire stayed silent while his finger stroke your skin.

You stroke his hair, you felt how his body got weak in an instant and a sigh left his lips.

"I missed you so much, my darlin'." He whispered and his cold lips kissed your thigh, you giggled at the sensation but he continued.

Despite the fact that he's been talking to you everyday and bringing you flowers every weekend, it didn't felt like that because he hasn't had the opportunity to stay.

To be with his darling, his most special boy.

You looked down at him, his golden eyes looked up, you bopped his nose and he chuckled.

"Pretty." You whispered and bopped his cheek, Jasper smirked, his cold hand went up.

"Handsome." He whispered back and bopped your cheek, you mimicked his smirk and lean down to kiss his forehead.

Your fingers returned to stroke his hair, he took deep breaths, useless for his body but at least the illusion seem to help.

Jasper closed his eyes, letting his mind relax, melting comfortably under your touch and resting on your soft thighs.

You stayed silent, playing with his hair and caressing his pale face from time to time.

Vampires can't sleep, at least that's what Jasper told you but you have a theory that maybe they enter a deep meditating state.

Because there's no explanation for the level of calmness Jasper seems to be in when you cuddle with him. He's sleeping in your mind, resting along side with you.

The vampire sometimes even moves like one would do when asleep, losing or tightening his grip on you, mumbling things and everything. It was fascinating and comforting knowing he felt so much peace with you.

——————————————————————

One of your hands was busy stroking his hair while the other scrolled through your phone.

It's been probably an hour or two, you looked down at Jasper, you smiled softly at the image that lied infront of you.

He's asleep, call yourself stubborn because nothing could convince you otherwise, probably when you become a vampire yourself you'll understand, but right now, he's sleeping, completely asleep.

There's just no way that the man laying between your thighs is wide awake.

You stopped everything you were doing when you noticed a sound. A small and soft sound.

It's coming from Jasper.

You smiled and put attention to the small noise. He's snoring? It was a soft rumbling and it stopped the moment your hand didn't stroke his hair.

So you moved your fingers again, and he made that sound, your fingers moved down to his neck and it became louder. You got closer.

He's purring.

He's done this before, but you thought you were making it up.

You stayed silent, shooked, enjoying this moment, and discreetly recording it with your phone, the purr was very soft, you don't think Jasper is even aware his body is having this reaction.

You could feel the soft vibrations of his chest as he did this soft purring sound.

You kissed his forehead, whispering sweet nothings before you grabbed a blanket and throw it over him, Jasper just snuggled further on your thighs.

He then spoke, and his words were drowsy, sleepy mumbling.

"I love you." The vampire spoke softly, you kept stroking his hair and he kept making that soft purring.

"I love you too, cowboy." You whispered back with a smile on your face.

"I- have things to do, darlin'." He whispered when he noticed the blanket, he opened his eyes but close them again almost immediately.

You suppressed your comment about him not allowing himself to rest and have a nice moment.

"Shhhh, you have centuries left to do whatever you want. Just rest now. Sleep, it's okay." You spoke softly, Jasper shaked his head but didn't move an inch.

"Vampires can't sleep, doll." He protested with a slight slurry voice, you chuckled and rolled your eyes playfully.

"Sure thing, Jazz." You said, he placed a kiss on your thigh before he returned to continue his 'no sleep'.

--------------------------------------------------

A/N: heyyyyy how y'all doing? Hope you liked this!

[immagods]

Then there are the whispers of a clone frozen in stasis. A medic trying to save his brothers, only to wake up and realise he is the last, all his brothers are gone. They are just rumours. No one's sure if they are true or not, until one day.

One day where Kix sitting in a cantina in the outer rim, where he sees a group of people gathered around a holo. He pays no mind to it at first, that is, until he hears someone say a familiar name. A name he hasn't heard spoken out loud in a long time. A brothers name.

So he gets closer, and he sees what the group of people are looking at. It's the photo. The photo that Rex had hanging on the wall of his office, the one of him, Fives, Echo and Cody. The photo that Fives always said made him and Echo Rex's favourites. Kix remembers that holo, he remembers the battle when it was taken. Remembers it was just after Fives and Echo had gotten back from Arc training. Remembers that he was just behind the camera, waiting to chew Fives out; because 'even if you have ARC training now. It doesn't mean that you can go and do stupid risky shit all the time trying to impress the shinies.'

Kix is drawn from the memories of ghosts when he feels someone tap him on the arm. It's a young girl with big blue familiar looking eyes, and she says that she thinks it cool that he looks exactly like the brave soldiers she learnt about in school. She asks him if his grandfather was a clone, if he knew any clones, if he's heard any stories of the clones. Kix stares at the girl for a moment, thinking about another girl with curious blue eyes, before he answers her. He tells her that he is a clone, that he has so many stories that he can't even count them.

With wide eyes, the girl drags him closer to the holo and pointing at it asks him if he knows the clones in the photo.

And Kix, looking at the holo, thinks of the old mando'a that they used to say; Ni su'cuyi, gar kyr'adyc, ni partayli, gar darasuum. 'I'm still alive, but you are dead. I remember you, so you are eternal.'

So he tells the girl.

He tells her how they were his brothers. He tells her how he was apart of the 501st. He tells her how they fought for freedom. He tells her how they were always finding ways to laugh during the war. He tells her how they adopted the jedi into their family. He tells her how no matter how bad things got the clones knew they would be okay as long as they had eachother. He tells her their names.

The more stories he tells the more people listen. And word spreads. The Clones are not all gone. There is one left. And he's telling the stories of the clones, the stories that, when there where millions of clone alive no one wanted to hear. But they want to hear them now, they want to know the clones now. They want to know the worriors that fought for freedom and laid down the foundations for everything after. They clones story may be a tragedy, but it will not be forgotten.

The Vode will be remembered.

[bluecollarmcandtf]

Dads, Dads, and more Dads

I did something I shouldn't have! My buds all bailed on our night out, so I hit the bar and got hammered by myself. Somehow, I ended up blackout drunk in a fortune teller's shop. I remember crying about how much I wanted a fatherly figure in my life. She did this weird ritual to make me feel better. I thought it was a joke at the time, but I know now it wasn't...

"Buddy, get out of bed! Breakfast is ready!"

A pang of guilt empties my stomach. For a moment, I stare at the ceiling with absolutely no urge to eat. It's been two days since that fortune teller put a curse on me, and I have no idea how to live with myself. I obviously can't pretend her little ritual wasn't real anymore.

"Hey, Josh," I nervously answer, stepping into the kitchen to look at my roommate.

"Can't sleep all day, buddy. Eat up!" Josh gives me an endearing smile that sends shivers down my spine.

A few days ago, Josh was a lazy, rude asshole who was only good for paying his part of the rent. We were chill enough roommates, but he only ever talked to me when he wanted a second opinion on girls he saw at the gym. The guy was easily the biggest douchebag in our friend group, always showing off and making someone else the butt of his joke.

Looking at him now, I'd laugh! If only I didn't feel so guilty for his personality's erasure.

"Look at the time! I better get moving. That yard won't maintain itself!" Josh flashes the brand new watch on his wrist. The thing is clunky and old: the kind of wristwatch you'd expect a dad to wear.

"You know we're only renting this place for the semester, right?" I search his expression for any trace of the slimy old Josh, "The landlord is supposed to take care of the yard!"

Josh just chuckles and mutters something about wanting to impress the neighbors. He even has the audacity to reach out and tussle my hair. My face gets hot as a guy, only a month older than myself, treats me like a child.

That curse really screwed up his brain. When Josh found me the morning after, something just broke in him. He immediately jumped to my side and promised to help me nurse my hangover, and it didn't stop there. After he tucked me in for a nap, he drove straight to the mall, buying a whole new wardrobe of cargo shorts and polos. I thought he was just hitting the gym like usual, so when he came back dressed up like the suburban father he hates, I barely even recognized him.

"Have a good day, buddy!"

Josh ignores my protests and plants a big smooch on the back of my head before marching out of the kitchen. It was bad enough my roommate was calling me buddy! Does he really have to kiss me like that too? It makes me uncomfortable to see my scummiest friend infused with such insane paternal instincts, but this is kind of what I asked for. Right?

I slam the back door shut and look at my rusty old bike. Today is already getting on my nerves and I'm not in the mood to peddle all the way to class. Maybe, that guy next door hasn't left for work yet...

"Oh, hey there, Kiddo!"

The deep voice of my neighbor makes me relax a little. I see all six and a half feet of him climb out of the car and stare at me with the same look Josh had on earlier. He's a father of four, but ever since my night out, he looks at me like I'm him his only real son.

"Hey, Mr. Jones," I mumble back.

"Glad I caught you, Kiddo. I was just about to pull out of the driveway," he explains, placing a reassuring hand on my shoulder, "You want a me to drive you to class today?"

I push aside my feelings of guilt and manage a smile, "That'd be great."

Mr. Jones beams back brilliantly. He claps me on the back, which knocks me a bit off balance. Before I know it, he's guiding me into his passenger seat and asking me to hold his briefcase.

"Just let me text work to let them know I'm coming in later than normal," he adds while texting on his flip phone, "How are classes going, kiddo?"

I shrug off the question with a one-word answer. Now that everyone's forced to act like my dad, I get asked about my classes like twenty times a day. My thoughts drift, but Mr. Jones keeps up the conversation, lecturing me about good grades or something. I don't know how a guy who barely knows me can have so many opinions about my academics!

"You know what!" I cut him off just before he starts reminiscing on his own college years, "Just drop me off at this cafe."

Worry lines form on his forehead, "Are you sure you don't want me to drive you the whole way?

"No. Just give me some cash."

Mr. Jones gives me a look of disappointment before shimmying his wallet out of his khakis. He counts off forty dollars and hands it over.

"Can I have a little more?" I press quietly.

Look, I know it's wrong to abuse this bizarre new dynamic between us, but I'm a poor college kid! If he doesn't want to give me his money, he can just say no. It's not like I'm holding a gun to his head!

"Sure thing, kiddo," he gives me a dry smile and pulls out a couple more twenties, "Don't spend it all in one place!"

"Ok, bye," I awkwardly announce and hop out.

"Wait!" his husky baritone calls from the car window, "You want a ride home after class?"

"Nope! Just go back to your own life," I yell stiffly. Even though I don't turn to watch him drive off, I hear his car pull away. It's just a car, but it somehow sounds disappointed in me too. I try to swallow the growing lump in my throat and step into the cafe for some much needed coffee...

"Morning, young man. What can I get you?"

The lump in my throat seems to get bigger when I see the waiter. He's a lot hotter of a man than I expected to find in this little cafe.

Already, the way he looks at me is shifting. That curse is transforming whatever thoughts he'd just had in his head. He's feeling more and more protective and responsible for me with every second he looks at me. At this point, I've grown accustomed to the mysterious effect I have on older guys. It's only been a few days, but I've seen so many random dudes go through this psychological transition. It's like they're discovering a new purpose in life: me.

"Uh yeah, I guess a cappuccino would be nice," I mutter with a dry mouth.

"You got it, young man!" he gives me a friendly wink, "Anything else I can get you?"

I know I shouldn't push my luck, but I can't help myself with this guy, "A hug would be nice! I've been feeling a bit isolated lately..."

The waiter instantly puts his pen and paper down and holds out his arms. His welcoming smile is gone, and a look of genuine concern waits for me, "Come here."

I practically leap into his arms, and he eagerly accepts me, pulling me into his chest like it's where I belong. It feels amazing to be held by this man, even if I don't know him at all. I could stay here all day if he'd let me.

"Seems like you're enjoying the hug," the waiter eventually chuckles into my ear.

For a second, I'm confused, but then I realize I'm fully erect and the waiter can definitely feel it poking into his waist.

"Sorry!" I jump back, searching for any other witnesses.

"Hey, don't be!" he assures me, "It's a completely normal part of life, ok?"

"You're not mad?" my voice comes out more timid than I expected, but I can't help myself. I just accidentally boned up someone who was trying to be nice. What makes it worse, is that he's probably only trying to be nice because of my ridiculous curse.

"Of course not," he affirms, "I can help you take care of it, if that's ok, young man?"

"What do you mean?" My face burns red hot.

"Oh, let me show you," he grabs me by the hand and leads me away from the table, "There's no need to be ashamed of any part of your body! In fact, this part can be a lot of fun."

I'm left speechless as the waiter gives me another fatherly wink, but I can't linger on what he's said. I'm being pulled into the men's restroom. I hear the click of the door locking behind us as he pulls me in front of the mirror, sliding up behind me. I can feel his chest on my back and his thighs against my ass.

If I was hard before, I'm practically bursting now!

"It's time you had the talk, young man," he calmly speaks in my ear like this is a completely normal thing for a waiter to do.

He starts droning on about men, women, sex, and where babies come from, but I'm not listening. I obviously know what sex is, and I think I'm having it right now. His hands slip under my arms and wrap around my waist to unzip my pants. My rock-hard cock bursts out of my jeans the second they're open, and a moan of surprised ecstasy fumbles over my lips just when the waiter gets to his point on male anatomy.

Does the waiter really believe a dad should do this for their sons?

He starts talking me through how to jack off. He must think I've never masturbated before, and I'm sure as hell not telling him that I have! Hearing him narrate every wrist movement, every ball tug, every nipple pinch is just too much fun! Before long, the waiter has me violently shooting on our reflections in the mirror.

"And there you go," he pats me on the back while I stand there stunned. The waiter steps back and looks at me like he's proud of the great life lesson he'd just taught me, "Now you know how to get rid of those boners of yours. Let me go get your coffee started."

I stand in the bathroom, collecting myself, as the waiter finally tends to my coffee order. This dad-curse the fortune teller gave me might be more fun than I originally thought. If I can get one daddy to randomly jack me off, then who knows what else I can do! Rushing out of the bathroom, I already have so many ideas flooding through my head...

"Excuse me, sir!"

"Sorry!" I shout.

In my excitement, I almost crash into the cafe's porter. A little less graceful, and I would have sent every single dish crashing to the floor. Glancing at the face of my would-be victim, I almost moan when I see get a good look at him. I can tell his head is already filling up with the same artificial need to be my father.

"No damage done," he assures me, lingering back to stare at me like I'm some lost puppy.

"Don't you...um...have to bus some tables or something," I breath nervously.

"Oh yeah," he frowns, "Sorry to get in your way."

He shakes his head like he's trying to lose the strange new thoughts in his brain. I stand there frozen like a deer in headlights as he walks away. He glances back at me before turning his attention to a cluttered table.

"Wait!" I yell, "Come back!"

The busboy drops the tub of dirty dishes and rushes back over like his life depends on it. The sight of this worried hunk running back to me makes me hard all over again.

I grab him and pull him into a hug, but his arms quickly take over and support me. Once again, my boner is rock hard and poking into the body of some random guy I just met!

"You have a car?" I ask.

"Yeah."

"You want to drive me around?"

"Of course!" he yanks off his apron and puts a hand on my back.

The waiter comes back around and hands me my coffee, looking at his coworker in utter confusion.

"Cover his shift," I demand, "He's driving me to school."

The waiter nods with an open mouth. He does look completely confused, but there's also a hint of jealousy in his stare. I think he's mad the busser gets to chauffeur me around: poor guy.

The porter doesn't seem bothered to be walking out of his job. He's busy smiling at me like I'm his whole world. I slide into his humble car and tell him where my class is. Before long, he's pulling out of the parking lot and driving me to school. I use our time to get to know him. I'm honestly not all that interested in learning about his life, but I do enjoy watching him talk. It doesn't take a while for us to get to campus, but before I get out I grab his hand and put on my best puppy dog eyes.

"I don't know when you get off work, but I'd love it if you came by my apartment. My roommate is trying to clean it up, but he could really use the help of someone more experienced."

"I love housework!" he just answers, "I'll be there!"

I snicker and slam the car door shut. I might be an hour late, but I'm finally here for class. It's time to give my professor a visit...

"Yeah, I can unbutton my shirt!"

My professor fell under my spell just as fast as the others. He had a look of anger when I walked in; probably from me skipping his class, but that expression quickly warped as he looked at me. Within seconds he was rounding his desk to give me a big old hug. Apparently, he "forgave" me for being so late.

"You like what you see?" he asks, gesturing to his hairy chest, "Trying to check out your old man?"

"You're my old man?" I ask, kind of surprised by the goofy smile on his face.

"Well, no," he bumbles, "But I am a strong male influence in your life! I'm like your dad!"

I nod my head like he's just made a really good point, "Oh. Then you probably want to treat me like your son. Right?"

"Yeah!" he holds his arms out to animate his enthusiasm.

Professor Reid has a reputation for being stiff and demanding in the classroom, so his new personality completely contradicts his true character. The man I know would never smile at a student, let alone bare his chest to them.

"So, I'm off the hook for missing today's class right?"

"Well," he pauses, "Sure."

"Can I skip the rest of the semester?"

"What, no. I want you to have a good education, my boy!"

I creep up to him and place my hands on his hairy torso, feeling the fur and the weight of his body. Professor Reid sure has a lot to hide under all those dress shirts he always wears.

"I'm just so lucky to have a daddy like you," I purr, "A daddy who's willing to do everything he can for me."

My professor grabs my arm and stares into my eyes. With a serious tone, "I am willing to do everything for you, my boy."

"Alright," I smile, "You should give me private lessons then..."

"What a great idea," he's back to grinning like an idiot.

"...and you should always do it in your underwear!"

"I can do that. From now on, I'll be stripped and ready before you come in!" He smiles at me like this is the best decision he's ever made in his life.

"Alright, now pull the rest of your clothes off," I command, "I want to see what the rest of my daddy looks like."

Mr. Reid doesn't hesitate to start stripping in front of his favorite student. I could probably get this guy to do anything now. I can already imagine our private lessons; me lounging in his leather armchair and him on his knees with his mouth full. Maybe that curse isn't a curse at all. Maybe it's actually a gift...

"Hey, buddy! How was class today?"

Josh looks tired from a long day of yardwork, but he still seems excited for me to come home. The lawn looks immaculate compared to our neighbors', and I have my roommate to thank for that.

"The grass looks great, dad."

"Dad! Woah!" Josh yells ecstatically, "Buddy, I can't tell you how much it means to hear you say that."

Josh sweeps me up in his arms. Apparently, it doesn't bother him to be the father figure of a guy only a few months younger than himself. It doesn't bother me anymore either. I kind of like that he smells like aftershave and bacon now instead of weed and sweat.

"Let's go inside, buddy. I'll cook something up for dinner," Josh says with a hand on my back. I'm already growing so accustomed to being guided around everywhere.

"Actually, I invited a guy to come over," I admit, "He can cook. You should relax. You got a lot of work done today, dad."

"I did, didn't I?" he smiles proudly, "Let me grab a beer, then. We can watch TV."

"Actually, I thought there might be something else you'd enjoy."

"You know me so well, buddy. What are you thinking?"

"You could bend over the couch..."

Josh cringes and shakes his head. Once again, it's like he's fighting the foreign thoughts entering his head.

"...I know how much you like to make me happy, and I really want to pound ass right now."

For a second, a look of horror flashes over his face, but it's gone in an instant. A bright fatherly smile spreads between his cheeks.

"That sounds perfect, buddy. Enjoy yourself."

Josh doesn't look away as he unbuttons his cargo shorts, smiling at me with love and devotion the entire time. He seems completely relaxed as he bends over the couch, and he only seems to become more comfortable as he spreads his cheeks apart.

Once again, I'm rock hard as I stare at one of my dads. This curse might have made me feel guilty before, but Josh said it himself.

I think I will enjoy myself.

Thanks for the ASK, Vebrendos

[andy-wm]

So...Who then?

A BRIEF SYNOPSIS of WHO:

Jimin is searching for the girl he thinks is out there for him (one who he can give the world and more to). He can't understand why he hasn't found her. Who is his heart waiting for?

Clue: it's the person who literally falls into his path. This is the ONLY person for him - everyone else has walked away.

I have to confess... I didn't hear WHO as more than a generic pop song the first couple of times i listened. I was in my car driving home from work when i first listened, and then bustling around with domestic stuff as i listened a second time.

Its very unusual for me to be so casual and negligent with first listens but my head wasn't in the game. I didn't want to push it.

So I consciously put it aside until i could give it the attention it deserves.

I want to clearly state that if WHO was purely a fun and impersonal pop song i wouldn't be judging the song or Jimin for that. It's got a catchy tune and i enjoyed it, and I'm not expecting everything Jimin creates to speak to me personally.

Some things are just for fun and that's okay.

But I think there more to this song...

As with much of Jimin’s work, what seems simple on the surface is more complex when you dig a little deeper...

I watched the mv with the lyrics onscreen and my impression is forming (It's still basically a first impression though so i probably missed things)

What i notice, reading the lyrics as i listen, is that it's not the love song i first thought it was.

It's not a love song at all.

This song is all about about Jimin

and it's full of questions...

She's always on his mind, this woman he has yet to find. He thinks about her every day.

He's not telling us his standards are too high, or all the girls he likes are unavailable, or he never goes out to meet people.

He's telling us he's been searching but he hasn't even MET her yet.

Hes telling us he doesn't know why he hasn't found her.

((Why the insistence that it has to be a 'her'?

That's easy:

Anyone who was raised in a hereronormative environment is going to go through life thinking they will find love with the opposite sex. It's the default expectation. Everything in society tells us this from advertising, to entertainment, to the government. For a lot of gay or queer people, you expect that to happen. You kiss a lot of girls or boys and you expect to feel that spark (shoutout to the enbys who nobody can see).

And the spark just isnt there, so you keep looking. You search for that one individual who will make you feel the way you're *supposed* to feel.

The lyrics of this song are basically saying exactly this.

If you believe - as i do - that Jimin struggled with his identity and that he didn't recognise his love for JK as ROMANTIC love until JK started returning his affection, then it makes sense that he believed he would (or should) fall in love with a girl.

And look, he dances with ALL the girls. He has a red hot go at this. He really tries, but nothing sticks.))

Now back to the song...

He tells us that he goes out and meets a lot of people:

But he still doesn't know who she might be.

HE'S NEVER MET HER...

"We've never met" he says it twice in succession. So he hasnt even met a girl he thinks COULD be the one?

🤔

Can i take a guess?

MAYBE THERE'S A CLUE HERE:

"Who is my heart waiting for," sings Jimin as a BILLBOARD falls from the sky.

Its "crash landing on you" but figuratively, not literally.

The face on the billboard looks very familiar 🤔

And also...

KEEP GOING>> says the billboard.

When asked in an AMA what he would say to his debut self, Jimin said "You nice. Keep going."

We know how tough things were in the lead up to debut, especially for Jimin. He nearly lost his place in the group several times. And it's no secret that as a group they struggled to be taken seriously by the industry.

But wait... what else does the billboard say?

W H O

Not 'WHO?' but WHO

It's a statement, not a question.

If you're looking for a sign, this is it.

THIS IS LITERALLY A SIGN

Dont forget that this billboard/person crashes into his life - falls directly in his path - when hes alone out there.

There's nobody there but Jimin.

And for Jimin, there is nobody else

🐰🐥

ETA: Here's the next part of my response to 'WHO'. This post looks at the MV Specifically.

[flwrkisses]

boyfriend! sunghoon.

been a while hasn't it? recently got very inspired to write for the enhypen boys so here we are!— hope you guys enjoy!

genre: fluff, established relationship.

warnings: slight mentions of arguments, skinship & kissing.

❀˖° heeseung, jay, jake, sunghoon, sunoo, jungwon, niki.

- your first date was 100% to an ice rink. it's sunghoon's one and only big move when he likes someone, he wants to impress them and show off his crazy figure skating skills... even if you've never ice skated in your life and fall on your ass trying to keep up with him.

- the ice rink was also an excuse to hold your hands to make sure you wouldn't fall and get hurt.

- he'd probably take you out on 5-7 dates before he feels comfortable enough to ask you to be his partner.

- as your boyfriend sunghoon loves to tease you, especially if you're younger than him. he shows affection by poking fun at and teasing people close to him.

- "hey loser :)" texts all the time, out of love tho.

- he loves it when you tease him back. he absolutely loves it when you can keep up with him with jokes and build that playful tension. its probably why he fell for you in the first place.

- your first kiss with him was probably very quick, a nervous peck after one of the dates. his cheeks probably got red once he pulled away. he honestly thought he was terrible.

- now the kisses you guys share are so sweet. often times they're a quick peck in passing but when the time is right, sunghoon loves to give you sweet breath taking passionate kisses.

- sunghoon is the type to tell you it's cold, to hint at the fact you need a jacket. because he's not going to straight up tell you that he's worried you'll get cold. so when you don't get his hint, he'll bring one of his own extra jackets to give to you.

- "you don't bring a jacket because you don't wanna carry it later on, but— you get cold and take my jacket which then leaves me freezing... and what kind of boyfriend would i be if i let you freeze? so, yes! i'm bringing you a jacket so we both can be warm and be comfortable. good? great."

- he's also the type to see you struggling with opening something and would wordlessly reach over and do it for you.

- for example you're struggling to open a water bottle and he watches you struggle for a little before taking it from your hands, opening it, and handing it to you while looking away.

- you will never catch him, but he looks at you fondly all the time. even in public, he can't help it.

- he's definitely not a pda guy, he says it makes things much more intimate to kiss and hug in private. he also doesn't want the rest of the enhypen boys to tease him for being so sickly sweet to you.

- one thing he loves however, is holding your hand. in all ways he loves holding your hand even if you're sitting next to each other.

- something you notice when he's around his either sit close enough to you so your arms are brushing against each other or stand close enough for some type of physical contact, but thats about it when it comes to pda.

- he just isn't someone who feels the need to be all over you all the time. he has nothing to prove to anyone, nor does he ever feel threatened by other people. in fact he makes fun of couples that are weirdly all over each other in public.

- he doesn't get jealous often, however he is very protective of you and would rather people mind your personal space.

- if someone goes to touch your hand, or stands too close sunghoon would instinctively put himself between you and this person or move you out of the way.

- he is slightly possessive however, he would never admit it. however something in him lights up when you tell him you're his.

- he's a good guy to your friends too, he sees they're important to you so he takes them into account before doing things as well.

- like one night you and your friends decided to go out and sunghoon tagged along. he noticed that some random guy was bothering a friend of yours and making them uncomfy so without much thought he would go over to pull your friend back to the group and stare down the guy enough to hope he wouldn't come around your group again.

- he pretends not to remember or know important dates like your anniversary or birthday, but somehow you always wake up on that special day with a present at the foot of your bed from him.

- if you get sick he'll tease you about it at first but eventually will take care of you. he'd chuckle about how your voice sounds when you're congested and say "ewww" when you blow your nose.

- he would probably wait for you to tell him you love him first regardless of if he feels it first or not. sunghoon would hate to say that he loves you first and you not reciprocate, so he would wait for you to say it first for him to confirm he feels the same.

- saying "i love you" makes him shy, especially with how easily you are able to say it. he blushes a little each time he hears it.

- he probably mumbles his "i love you"s or sometimes just responds with "me too" because he's just too shy to actually vocalize it.

- sunghoon secretly likes praise, so tell him he's handsome and that he looks nice.

- although he's not a cuddler, if you sat on his lap while he played games his whole body would melt.

- texting would be pretty big with him actually. i see him leaving his members on read while responding to your messages fairly quickly.

- while he's on tour, he'd call you on facetime while he's in bed to mumble about how much he misses you and wants to be with you.

- in an argument regardless who's at fault, he would probably sit in silence and listen to everything you have to say. he's not really someone to fight with you, he simply wouldn't put energy into it which could be pretty annoying. he doesn't articulate his thoughts extremely well so sometimes it might seem like he doesn't care or is blocking you out.

- however fights are pretty rare considering how much you guys actually talk things out and how long he thinks about things.

- he honestly is so happy staying home and watching movies with you, ordering take out and staying in.

- doesn't mind going out for dates too. probably takes you on shopping dates, walks in the park, spa dates, trying restaurants, and ice skating of course.

- he has you make decisions for him since he's so indecisive. if he doesnt know what shirt to buy he asks you and goes with what you tell him. if you want to eat something he goes along with it and begs you to never make him choose anything ever.

- sunghoon has a folder on his phone of just candid pictures of you. he thinks it's cute, plus he's kinda become an expert in sneaking cute photos of you on dates.

- believe it or not, he spoils you quietly. things he notices you're running out of or need he'd buy you and quietly put them in their spots. it would take you a while to even notice he was doing that.

- you know he would never admit it, but his favorite part of his days are the days where he's able to come home to you and sleep with you in his arms.

hope you enjoyed! — yes i am writing for enhypen now...

leave me a request in the ask box!

©flwrkisses ; please do not copy, translate, repost and/or reuse my work without my permission.

[luvgavii]

fire meets gasoline - (pg6)

summary: he's narcissistic and egotistical, his anger always getting the best of him.

she's spoiled, bratty and knows just how to push all of his buttons, like adding gasoline to a fire.

warning: suggestive at the end🫣

***

they met on a saturday night, in a busy club in barcelona. she bumped into him as she stumbled through the crowd of people, his cocky look already pissing her off as he turned towards her.

"watch where you're going," he said taking a step back, piercing through her with his angry eyes.

"you know, you could lose that attitude, it doesn't look good for your image," she said rolling her eyes, seriously, how entitled does he think he is to treat people so carelessly?

he scoffed, his eyebrows slightly rising as his look got even more annoyed, but he was intrigued, "do you know who you're talking to?"

she laughed, her arms crossing over her chest, giving him a 'duh' look, "the whole population of barcelona knows who you are, gavi, and its really not impressing me, maybe it would, if you would just apologize."

"apologize?" he said almost laughing at her words, "i should apologize for you bumping into me? please, princesa, you should be a comedian."

princesa? did he really think he could charm her?

"no, not for me bumping into you. but for you giving me the 'do you know who i am?' attitude," she said before smirking, an idea popping into her mind. "in fact, i'm sure my followers and the media would be delighted to find out how cocky and rude pablo gavi is."

he felt his anger slowly rising, his fist clenching and opening, was she threatening his image just like that?

"you wouldn't dare," he said as his eyes narrowed, he expected her to walk away, but instead she pulled her phone out, typing in her password.

at her action, he felt his breath hitch as he thought about the scandal this could cause. he knew who she was, he knew just what a big influencer she was, especially on instagram and tiktok. normally he wouldn't care what some girl has to say about him, but he knew the media would love the gossip, and would surely cause a scandal.

he grabbed her waist, pushing her to a wall nearby and pinning her against it as the music faded into the background, his hand on her hip while the other held her hands above her head, still holding the phone as they stared into eachothers eyes.

"you can't," he said sighing as he spoke into her ear, making sure she can hear him over the loud music, "you can't post about this."

"apologize." she said back, her voice demanding, her lips curling into a smirk as her eyes narrowed daringly, oh, she was enjoying this.

his jawline clenched, looking away for a second as he felt his anger rising, taking a deep breath before he spoke, "i'm sorry," he said trying to calm his rising anger.

"sorry for what? being a dick?" she pushed him, feeling his hand tighten around her wrists, her arms were getting tired, but she wasn't going to admit it to his face.

he breathed out, his breath hitting her face, but she didn't move an inch, "i'm sorry for being rude," he said just as they saw a flash next to them, the paparazzi turning the corner as soon as they snapped their heads towards that direction.

***

sure enough, the pictures circulated on the internet, being on every gossip page, every football fan page, and everyone's tiktok.

she usually was very active on her platforms, but now, anything she posted had mostly comments asking her about gavi.

they knew the scenerio all too well, they don't address it and people will eventually forget, right?

wrong. its been almost a week and no one seemed to forget. gavi's teammates were all teasing him, and it drove him mad, why couldn't he escape her now that they met? more importantly, why can't he stop thinking about her?

after training, he took a long shower, collecting his thoughts and analysing the whole situation. he was surprised she hasn't spoken up yet, calling him out on his behaviour and stating that they are, in fact, not in a relationship. far from it. he hated her bratty behaviour, knowing she probably got her way her whole life. but he couldn't deny the fact that it intrigued him, it was like she knew how to respond no matter how big of a dick he was.

he decided they needed to talk about the situation so he reached out via instagram, asking if he could come over to talk, and she sent him her address.

he already knew this was a bad idea as soon as he got in the car and put her address into the gps, his anger rising as he thought about the bitchy attitude she would give him tonight, he couldn't decide if he was extremely irritated or extremely turned on.

pulling up to her luxurious house, her gates opened automatically, and even if he would not admit it, he was impressed. he wasn't sure whatever she did besides being an influencer, but it clearly paid good.

gavi didn't get the chance to knock on her door when she opened it, smiling sarcastically, "there he is, my lovely 'boyfriend', the apple of my eye," she said as she moved away, letting him walk in, he grinned sarcastically, too.

"aren't you a ray of sunshine, princesa," he mocked, but he decided the nickname was fitting, she was acting like a entitled princess.

gavi and y/n plopped onto the couch, ready to talk business. he was sitting on one end, holding his head up as he leaned his elbow against the fancy cushion.

"so how much money do you want, to keep your mouth shut?" he started, his voice nonchalant.

"money?" she asked in disbelief as she tried not to laugh in his face, "trust me, i do not need your money. i make plenty on my own, thank you very much."

he smirked, there was her attitude, "alright, then i guess you're keeping your mouth for free, or i can think of a way to shut it."

she raised her brows, scoffing, but the thought sent a shiver down her spine and straight to her pussy.

"aww," she mockingly placed a hand over her chest, acting surprised and fanning herself, "is pablo gavi actually suggesting i have sex with him?" she chuckled, "i would rather throw myself down a never ending staircase."

gavi couldn't lie, this whole conversation was extremely funny, but his smirk never got wiped off his face, instead, he sat closer to her, resting his arm on the back of the couch as they made eye contact.

"yeah?" he chuckled, his free hand putting a strand of hair behind her ear as he lowered his voice, feeling her tense under his touch, "because your body is calling you out on your lie, princesa."

"god, you are such an asshole," she mumbled, making him smirk, "where is that rude man i met at the club, hm?"

"oh, don't worry, he's still here. but he knows when to be rude and when he shouldn't," he whispered, now resting his hand on her thigh, his face inching closer to hers.

he gave her a few seconds to pull away, but when she didn't, he took it as a sign to continue, brushing his lips against hers, her eyes falling from his eyes to his lips, making him smirk at the action.

"what do you want, princesa?" he whispered against her lips, the nickname rolling off his tongue like honey.

she gulped, her mind unknowing how to process what was happening, was he really so close to her? almost towering over her on her couch? a cocky, narcissistic but oh, so sexy man, who thought he could charm his way out of this?

"i hate you," she breathed out as his mouth found her neck, kissing and sucking on the sensitive skin, making her bite her lip to keep quiet.

"likewise, don't worry," he smirked as he continued his ministrations against her neck, his smirk widening when she tilted her head to give him more access.

she knew this was all an act, and while she desperately wanted him to dick her down, something was holding her back.

"i'm telling everyone tomorrow, what an asshole you are, pablo," she breathed out as she felt his tongue against her skin, sending another wave of pleasure to her core.

he pulled away, his lips plumb and red, his pupils dialated as he shook his head. he felt his anger rise.

"that would be very unnecessary, princesa," his jaw clenched at the thought.

she scoffed, shaking her head as she stood up, "what is this? just about a week ago you looked like you wanted to strangle me, now you're here, acting like.. like.. this!" she raised her voice, frustrated at the whole situation.

he ran his hand through his hair, standing in front of her, breathing loadly as he started growing impatient "because, i don't know, but ever since i met you, ever since i had you pinned at that goddamn wall and you looked at me with those beautiful eyes," he said as he looked into her eyes again, seeing them soften as he continued, "i can't get you out of my mind, and don't get me wrong, your attitude still makes me want to strangle you, but god, you are so beautifully intriguing," he said, still sounding somewhat frustrated, but his voice was soft.

she chuckled at his words about her attitude, standing there, hugging herself, she couldn't let the wall she took so long to build down now, not now.

"i'm not the type to beg, and i will probably regret this by the morning, but tell me what i can do for you not to cause me a scandal," his voice was soft but determined, he was going to keep her quiet, no matter what it took.

she didn't move for a second as she thought, the way his lips moved against her neck clouding her thinking, she pointed to the couch, "kneel in front of the couch." she instruced him as he raised an eyebrow.

"you want me to sit on the floor like a dog?" he questioned, following her to the couch.

she sat on the couch, pointing in front of her to the floor.

"maybe you didn't hear me the first time, i don't beg, princesa." he scoffed as he kneeled in front of her.

she smirked, leaning her back against the couch and getting comfortable, "oh, asshole, i want you to make me beg." she said as she placed her legs on either sides of his shoulders, causing him to smirk.

oh, he liked the way she was thinking.

[wynnyfryd]

Trailer park Steve AU part 45

part 1 | part 44 | ao3

Nancy, Jonathan, and some guy with the longest hair Steve's ever seen are standing in a loose circle with Eddie and his bandmates, talking and sort of dance-nodding along to The Power of Love by Huey Lewis (a fact that Steve absolutely intends to mock his boyfriend for the second he gets the chance), and Steve, like, mentally girds his loins.

He and Jon are cool with each other, and he and Eddie are obviously, uh, plenty warmed up to one another by now, but the rest of them...

One's a stranger, one's an ex who seems drunk as shit and is currently so invested in spinning around to the music that she hasn't opened her eyes to notice him, and the other three are thawing to him at a truly glacial pace. Steve hasn't so much as been invited to watch a rehearsal yet because Eddie's 'still working on them' and needs 'a bit more time, but don't worry, they'll come around.'

They don't openly scowl when he and Robin approach, though, so Steve takes that as a win.

"Harrington!" Eddie calls, bowing deeply to add, "Lady Buckley."

Steve would feel stung by the surname if not for how downright giddy Eddie sounds. God, he loves tipsy Eddie; fucking Disney cartoon boy.

"Munson," he plays along, giving him a sly grin and a shoulder bump as he sidles up next to him. "Didn't know you were allowed to leave the basement at these things."

Jeff interrupts his air-guitaring to glare at Steve, bur Eddie holds out a hand and assures him that Steve's just fucking around. Before Steve can apologize or defend himself, Long Hair Guy leans in across the circle, his eyes wide and intense and bloodshot to hell.

"Dude," he greets. "You have. Such beautiful hair."

Steve barks a laugh. Robin rolls her eyes. Jonathan also rolls his eyes, but it seems more fond and less annoyed. "Can't take you anywhere," he mutters to the guy, then asks them, "You guys met Argyle yet?"

Steve holds out a hand. Confusion washes over him as he processes what Jonathan just said. "Uh." Argyle. "Like the sweater?"

"Yeah, man," Argyle smiles, dopey and slow. Sure. The guy in head-to-toe tie-dye and a neon green fanny pack is named Argyle. Why not? "My parents wanted a sheep, but they got me, instead."

Jonathan laughs like it's the funniest joke he's ever heard. Steve's pretty sure he's too sober for this conversation.

They exchange handshakes, and Robin asks if she can touch the guy's hair, and they all slip into easy, friendly conversation, naturally splintering into smaller groups of twos and threes. Steve's just getting the rundown on all the 'sick new gear' the band got for Christmas when the song changes, and god, this night just could not get better.

"Oh, fuck off!" Eddie groans in the DJ's direction.

Steve has to practically swallow his lips to keep himself from cackling, and then he gives up and does it, anyway, because Eddie looks like he just sucked a lemon while watching a dog die as his bandmates all start sing-shouting along. "We're talking away..."

"No." Eddie wheels around and points a finger at Steve, because Steve's singing, too.

Steve just sings louder. "I don't know what, I'm to say!"

"Oh, my god." He scrubs a hand down his face, dragging the skin down until Steve can see the pale pink of his inner eyelid. "Nobody I know has any goddamn taste!"

"Maybe you don't have any taste!" Robin teases, bouncing around and swinging her arms haphazardly to the music.

Nancy backs her up with a mumbled "Yeah!" but she's still spinning around in such tight circles that Steve doubts she has a single clue what's happening in the argument right now. Which is kind of endearing, actually. He likes how willing she is to stick up for people.

The chorus kicks in; Gareth air-drums the switch to half time just before Frank does an honestly super impressive falsetto of 'in a day or twoooooo', and Eddie despairs while Steve laughs his fucking head off.

—

part 46

tag list in separate reblogs under '#trailer park steve au taglist' if you'd like to filter that content. if you want to be added please comment and let me know (must be over 21; please either verify in the comment or have your age visible on your blog)

[glisten-inthedark]

I was wondering why do you like Tom Cruise? It's hard for me considering he is with Scientology and I can't get past that. You don't have to answer but I'm open to new perspectives on this

This has been sitting on my ask box for a few days and I was struggling with how to answer properly.

The thing is that I don't particularly like injustice, and I genuinely feel he's one of the most misunderstood people I've come across.

He's incredibly hard working, for one. Do you know what takes to still do what he does at his age? He doesn't have to, he most definitely doesn't need to do his own stunts, he could've been retired and living on a island somewhere but he isn't. He works relentlessly because he loves what he does, he doesn't freaking need the money, he does because he cares about the industry, he does it because he loves it.

All you hear about him are lovely stories about someone that hasn't allowed fame to get over his head. He treats everyone with dignity, every single person on his crew. Hell, during covid when everyone was judging him for screaming when everyone was doing pretty much the same thing because people's lives were at stake, he made sure every. Single. Person got payed even though they weren't working. He and his crew made sure of that.

Not only that, but during the strikes he didn't talk about only how it would affect the industry, he talked about people whose lives depended on the industry. He talked about small business owners, about movie owners and how much money they'd loose.

If people took the time to actually listen his friends, his costars and everyone that has actually met him they'd see how he's a good person. He cares so much about everyone that works with him, he makes sure they're comfortable at every single take, ensures that they don't feel pressured into doing their own stunts, he isn't controlling because he's an ass, it's because he doesn't want anyone to get hurt on his watch.

Good people don't tell you they're good, they don't have to.

As for scientology, they day people actually take the time to figure out how the cult works, how he got in and why it's actually dangerous for him to get out, we can talk. I refuse to talk to people that call him a terrible person when they seem to be under the impression he founded the thing with Miscaviege.

I'm not saying he's perfect, no one is. All I saying is that he has shown were his beliefs lie when he gave back two perfectly good Golden Globes due to the allegations of the time, all I'm saying is that we'd never have known the production aka him, kept on paying the entire crew for months if Chris didn't mention.

There are numerous people that have met Tom that talked about how kind he is (I've known people that met him and that talked about he treats everyone with so much decency and kindness regardless of their wealth or status), everyone that knows him personally has only the best things to say about him

I already talked about the scientology situation, my feelings about that are very much clear. Just because people don't want to acknowledge the fact he's as much of a victim of it as anyone else doesn't mean I'm going to, doesn't mean I'm just going to throw my degree away and treat him like he's Miscaviege when I understand far too well how cults work and how they operate and if anyone has a problem with that, gi right ahead and block me for all I care.

I take actions over words any day, this isn't just about what people say about him, it's about what we saw him do for others. The fact he doesn't feel need to flaunt every good thing he's done (hence why he seemed hesitant to state he paid for his sister's education) tells me he doesn't care that people think he's evil incarnated, he only cares about what people that actually know him think of him and that's more than we can say about most celebrities that are constantly virtue signaling everyday.

When people show me who they are, I believe them.

[heich0e]

tw religious imagery/sacrilege + mentions of blood

priest!geto who's approached by a member of his congregation, a promising, devout young man who's missed mass now for three weeks in a row, but reappears at the church one night asking to be blessed looking like a shell of the person suguru knows him to be.

"yuuta, are you well?" he asks, a comforting hand coming to rest on the younger man's trembling shoulder.

the boy—because that's what he is really, with his toes barely past the periphery of adulthood—hangs his head, his breathing laboured like he can't quite draw in a full breath. when he finally meets his priest's gaze, his eyes are hollow, and suguru sees for the first time how he appears to be drained.

yuuta tells him everything.

a demon. a succubus that came to him in the night. he hasn't slept in weeks, haunted by the memory and yearning for the next time it will appear. he's barely in his right mind as he recounts it, but suguru listens faithfully. blesses him once his story is done. promises to help him.

he sends yuuta away with that promise, and then he begins his preparations.

"well," your voice is smooth and sweet like honeyed wine as you appear before his eyes. he didn't even blink, but suddenly you're there. "you're not yuuta."

suguru smiles, gently marking the page in his book and closing it in his hand. "i'm not."

"oh," you coo—with what sounds like excitement in your tone—your eyes widening as you take him in. "a priest!"

suguru runs his hand along the front of his black shirt, the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. the roman collar at the base of his throat is surely what's given him away.

your eyes flicker around you, turning slightly to survey the scene. on the floor of the church basement, geto had carefully drawn the sigils needed to summon you—the ritual he'd unearthed in an old religious text in his research. yuuta's blood had been the final element—the part of him that tethered the boy to you—that would help to make the call.

"a summoning ritual," you muse, perhaps even a little impressed, as your eyes flicker along the sigils. your gaze slides over to meet his once more. "how archaic."

"but effective," suguru notes, his tone light and pleasant, and you smile a little—though there's no warmth in it.

by your feet, beside the train of the red tendrils that cloak you—though suguru can't quite be sure whether they're silk or smoke or something different altogether—a small chalice of yuuta's blood rests. you crouch down, dipping the very tip of your finger into the cup until it's coated in scarlet. you lift the digit to your lips, licking it away with your tongue. you maintain eye contact with the priest on the other side of the room all the while.

you hum around the finger caught between your lips. "this is my yuuta's blood."

"it is," suguru agrees.

"i thought he'd be here," you pout at him, "you tricked me."

the priest laughs a little at your expression, and the sound seems to intrigue you. you lick your lips.

"so,"—you inch a little closer to the edge of the circle that binds you—"what can i do for you father?"

"you've been causing a lot of problems for poor okkotsu," suguru notes, but his tone is still surprisingly amiable.

"but he's so much fun to play with," you reply, sighing in contentment as though you reflect on your time with the young man fondly.

suguru steps up to the edge of the summoning circle as well, observing you quietly. your interest in him grows more evident with every passing second, the expression on your face so keen it's as if you're barely containing your desire to reach out and touch him yourself.

"you're beautiful," suguru remarks lightly, his eyes curving up into two crescents as he smiles at you.

your eyes widen, your ruby lips parting in surprise before a devious smile twists them upwards.

"that's blasphemy, you know," you tease him breathlessly, pressing as far forward as the constraints of the ritual allow.

suguru's head tilts to the side in confusion. "your very existence is proof of our Lord. your beauty is a testament to His divine creation. in what way could that ever be sacrilege?"

you blink, your smile slightly falling as suguru's own twists higher.

you inch back.

"yuuta will be so relieved to be free of your possession," suguru says, his tone warm and proud.

he takes a step forward over the line of the summoning circle and you flinch.

he shouldn't be able to do that.

he takes another step towards you.

"come," he says, his hand outstretched "let us join together in blessing."

[pippin-katz]

Another 6 Little Faces Alex Makes That I Love - Part 3

(not ranked in any order)

No. 1:

This fucking fond smile he gets after Henry says he would be a writer living in Paris if he were anonymous. Like, boy you are so whipped, it's not even funny. He's probably thinking something like, "that's so Henry of him to say" and it's adorable.

No. 2:

This is the face of a little shit who knows damn well what he's done and is delighting in seeing how Henry is going to manage to play it off. He's got that fake innocent/confused face, like, "oh gosh, is everything alright Henry?"

Then he just grins when he manages to save it, like the fucking little shit that he is. That face says, "I just squeezed the ass of the Prince of Wales directly in front of the Prime Minister of the UK and the President of the United States, made him fumble like an idiot, turned him on, and I got away with it."

No. 3:

He's in the background, so he's a little hard to see, but he's got this genuine soft smile on his face like he truly finds it sweet of Henry to sing and point at him. Like, he's not even laughing; Nora has that funny fake shock on her face, but Alex is just actually happy that he's the one Henry's pointing at.

No. 4:

The way he's watching Henry so closely, and you can see his jaw flex when he moves. You can tell how careful he's being, how determined he is to do this right. It feels like he's not even worried about his own pleasure right now because he cares so much more about making sure he doesn't hurt Henry, and that he feels good.

No. 5:

The way he shakes his head and swallows before he speaks because Henry's voice in the previous line was so desperate and pleading. He begs him so softly and brokenly not to make him send him away, and it makes Alex choke up for a second because he can hear Henry's pain, and he loves him so much. He can't walk away. He can't give up.

He knows that he makes Henry happy (thanks campfire scene), and that's all he wants to do. He refuses to let Henry go back to his prison of armor while there's something he can do about it. Henry has to tell him to leave, because he cannot and will not be the reason for that pain. Alex is not going to give him the excuse or opportunity to put the armor back on because he left.

It has to come directly from Henry, because he will do anything for him, even if it means leaving, if that's what he wants. If Henry tells him to, then fine, he'll do it, because he won't disrespect or directly ignore his wishes.

Alex's first words are to ask for permission to talk to him. There's a big difference between "Can we please talk?" and "We need to talk!". One is a demand, while the other is a request, one that Henry can refuse.

And at this point, Henry hasn't actually told him to leave yet. He said Alex could say what he needed to say, and then leave, but he has not outright told him to. Alex, despite how much it would kill him, is telling Henry that he will walk away if that's what he wants, and it's painful and terrifying for him to say, but he'll do it for him.

That was longer than I thought it would be.

No. 6:

The little bashful smile he has when talking about Henry kissing him. He's too uncertain to directly say, "Yes, I liked it" in response to Nora's question, so he says it in a round about way of saying he didn't not enjoy it. It gives the impression that he's trying to "stay cool" about the whole thing even though you can tell he's not saying everything. He's trying to downplay it because he's actually losing his mind over it, but doesn't want to admit it.

Alright, there's part 3! I'll see if there's enough for a part 4, but I'm running out of what I would consider "little" faces lol

Update: If you enjoyed this essay & would like to support me, you can give me a tip on my Ko-Fi! ☺️

part 1 | part 2

[greenandsorrow]

~Her man child~

Headcanons 📺

Vox is the definition of a manchild and I think it's kinda obvious.

He's the mean kind, acting with so much spite, sometimes without it being necessary or justified.

He NEEDS to be taken seriously. He tries so hard, blurring the lines between respect, fear and tolerance.

But when you two are alone... the telly-head man is a whiny boy.

He complains like it's a form of art. You can't help but roll your eyes playfully when he lets out a too loud sigh, but after doing so you're always ready to give him all the reassurance and attention he desperately craves.

Your man prefers being the little spoon. He's like a lap cat.

If anyone finds out about his cuddly nature, he's gonna die a second time...

Vox feels the need to constantly prove himself to Velvette and Valentino, but with you he feels safe. He can be overly emotional. And weak. And needy.

Very needy.

If you're not somewhere behind the camera admiring him and boosting his confidence, his day is ruined.

Grumpy, grumpy, grumpy.

In the mornings he doesn't even turn on his screen... settling for the protection setting instead.

You have to be patient with him.

Bring him a steaming cup of coffee and hug him from behind and he might as well start giggling like a schoolgirl.

He's too sensitive for harsh jokes. Being in Hell means ONLY dark and cruel humour, but Vox can't take it sometimes.

His ego is fragile.

In order to feel loved, Vox has to be showered in extravagant compliments on a daily basis. Whether it's about his appearance, his job, his amazing and very interesting personality... He needs them.

When you tell him he's better than the radio demon.... he literally gets rock hard.

Vox is in a constant dilemma between showing you off for all Pentagram City to know you're his, or keeping you secret.

It's the same as a boy with his favourite toy. If other kids see his toy, he's gonna have to share.

What if someone steals his favourite toy?! Or even worse... BREAK IT?!

That being said, he doesn't objectify you, but he's terrible at showing affection or appreciation.

He's gonna be there for you, help you with anything you need, laugh with you, spend quality time with you. Still, deep communication is a difficult subject for him.

Thank god you're observant enough to catch all the messages he tries to pass to you.

Such an attention seeker though.

Have you ever seen a six year old trying to impress his crush?

Just look at Vox trying to woo you. It's the same thing.

But he's not that bad... His self-esteem is an obstacle alright, but he becomes a rug for you to step on and use as you wish most of the time.

Vox would definitely go out of his way if you asked something from him. You're his rock. It's the least he can do.

The guy even whimpers in his sleep.

Vox loves to fill his hands with your thighs when it's bed time. They're warm and soothing to him, like stress toys. Being a walking television has its disadvantages temperature wise.

He would bend you over and take you in front of a mirror so he could see himself while at it, but he hasn't done so yet. He wants to ask you beforehand and make sure it won't make you feel weird.

Vox is easy to rile up. A breathy compliment and a squeeze of his thigh and he's more than ready to go.

He doesn't actually feel dominant, but he tries to act like it. This Vee member has the stereotype man = dominance engraved in his subconsciousness and so he fights to live up to it.

But between you and me... Treat him like an inexperienced and innocent boy and he'll be crying out in pleasure.

Aka... be a femdom. Even a soft one. You won't even have to try that much.

Another thing. Vox is loud. (Like his name implies 🫣)

He also pants a lot. Almost like he's hyperventilating.

Unlike Alastor, this man is very insecure about both his performance and... size.

I'm not saying he's lacking in either though. It's just how his mind works. Always comparing himself to his opponents and in this case, his opponents are other men that could perhaps satisfy you more thoroughly than him.

Allow me to say that he fucks in an anxious way. Hands shaking and his mantra "Does that feel good to you darling?"

You just need to praise him a little. (A lot)

He doesn't last that long but he'll be sure to rub your clit so you don't either.

When it gets too real, he tears up at the end, like a baby that's holding back from crying. But you're there to hold him until he calms down.

He's usually too tired (and still nervous) afterwards for proper aftercare. Vox likes to be babied though. It's more personal attention after all.

Oh to be cleaned up and tucked to bed! Only then will he feel comfortable enough to run his fingers through your hair and mumble a faint thank you.

Vox's head has a bit of an awkward shape for cunnilingus. However, he has a surprisingly long tongue that can reach more than enough to have you moaning out how good of a boy he's being.

He usually cums in his pants while eating you out.

And when you return the favour it's usually to relieve his stress at work. He feels like a teenager when you do it. It's an act of service, really.

He low-key fucks your face, not enough to choke you but you do gag around him. It makes him feel in control. It makes him feel like a man.

To sum up, Vox is a bit dependent on you and on your validation, but he would never hurt you or become too overbearing.

He's needy, but not stupid.

He is the definition of a manchild and I think I proved my point.

But he's your manchild sis!

Support a struggling university student! Thank you so so much🫶 CLICK HERE (PayPal link)

my masterlist || Hazbin Hotel masterlist 🦷

~~~

Vox divider by @rubra-wav

Support divider by @cafekitsune

The explicit content one... I don't remember :(

~~~

[syoddeye]

useless, part two

Part Two of my submission to @glitterypirateduck's O, Captain! Challenge. As a reminder, I rolled a d100 to select three prompts. Unfortunately I got carried away with this part, so I haven't used my third prompt yet. But that just means a Part Three is coming.

You could argue this fits 95. Attending an event together...

Read Part One. Tag list: @v1x3n @kiranezra

~2k words, Price x f!Reader. Enjoy!

The ice bites through the steel shaker, your fingers sting, and the noise is a tick too loud, but both are decent distractions while you figure out what to say. In the corner of your eye, John watches with an amused look, tempting your elbow to somehow find his chin. When you finally stop, popping the cap to strain the vodka and vermouth, of course, he's already prepared with a snarky comment.

"Did it owe you money?"

"Yeah," you say, pulling an olive from a jar and dunking it into the glass. "Be glad you don't." 

John leans on the counter beside you. "I'd hate to cross you."

"That's new," you retort, savoring both his mildly confused look and the drink. "They feed you growth hormones in the army?"

He laughs. "Breakfast, lunch, and dinner."

You suppress a smile behind your glass and cross an arm over your front. "Are you back for long?"

His laughter peters out, and he shakes his head. "Nah, I leave tomorrow night."

"Mm," The noncommittal masks your wilting. You study John's face in the half-second pause. Since stepping foot in the house, no, since hearing about this soiree yesterday, he's plagued your thoughts. All those hours spent in each other's company for the better part of a year. That dumb fight resurfaces. You're not going to amount to anything! Classic John to prove you wrong. The jerk. 

"My mom told me you're doing well for yourself. You graduated something early? That you got into the SAS or whatever?"

"'Whatever'?" John scoffs, turning to face you better, enunciating each word as if you can't recite As You Like It by memory. "Yes. I'm doing well. You're looking at Lieutenant John Price, I'll have you know."

You arch an eyebrow. You know, in your gut, it is impressive. How or why is a mystery; it just is. Zero chance you'll let him know that. "And that's a big deal?"

"To some people."

"Well, I'm not 'some people'." You say with a tilt of your head.

"No, you're not," He answers a mite quieter before taking another swig and straightening. "Rumor mill says I'm looking at another promotion, maybe next year."

"What'll your title, er, rank be then?"

He smirks. "Captain."

You nod as if this again means something to you, a foreign civilian, and make a show of it. "Right," Your eyes hold each other in place in his parent's kitchen. A balloon of silence begs to be popped, for a decade's worth of fleeting memories and games of telephone through your mothers, to burst and ease the tension. And it's so typical, so John, that he hasn't even asked about y–

"And how're you faring?"

Stunning. Fucking karmic.

You can't stop yourself. "Oh, look at you, John Price. Did the army also finally teach you how to hold conversations?"

His eyes narrow a fraction, and that quizzical pinching of his brow returns. His lips part to speak, but a commotion at the entrance to the kitchen draws your attention. A pair of older men meander in, pink-faced and glassy-eyed, slurring the words to Auld Lang Syne two and a half hours too early. You take it for what it surely is, an out, and slip away. 

John's parents are eager enough to receive you in the crowded living room and return to their fawning. You'd rather wade through another stint of stilted conversation with their questions about your credits stateside or reminisce about embassy days than suffer John pretending to give a shit regarding your useless career.

You dance around speaking to him again, politely finding ways to dip in and out of conversations he thrusts himself into. The practice leverages all parts of your acting career and what you remember of the education your mother gave you. Smile, nod, ask leading questions, and watch for the interloper. It pays off, as John seems to eventually get the hint and fades into the background of the party.

When the clock strikes half past eleven and some ex-policy advisor nearly spills his ale on you, you decide it's time to sneak out. You've overstayed your allotted time. John's nowhere in sight, most guests are deep within their cups, and the giddiness of the impending countdown is palpable. It's easy enough to step into the front hall unseen without an ounce of guilt in your veins. You came, you saw, you drank expensive vodka, and made nice with your mother's friends.

Buttoning your coat, you step out into the night's chill and start down the steps. You're two paces from the garden gate when a man's voice pushes into your ear.

"Goin' somewhere?"

The two courses of stage combat you've completed guide your hand in a flat chop to the offending jugular. The owner of said jugular, however, catches the blow with an arm, then laughs, a rich and deep sound, to drive the humiliation home.

"John, Jesus Christ, you complete asshole!" You hiss, turning to shove the man standing in the shadows behind you. 

"There she is," He cracks, still chuckling. "Didn't mean to scare you."

"Yeah right, you absolute-"

"Arse?" His hands rise in defense when you glare, the glow of a cigar catching your eye before he lowers it to his mouth for a puff. It's a moment before his mouth opens, the tobacco scent permeating the short distance between you. "Just out for a smoke."

Wrinkling your nose, you sigh. "That is awful for your health."

"So's my line of work," He counters.

"Fair point."

"Glad you think so."

You stare at him again. Admittedly, it's hard not to. Even in the dark, the glint of his steady gaze tethers. Maybe it's the military thing—like he's learned to restrain people without touching them. It must be because it couldn't be anything else. A shiver compels you to speak. "I have to get going."

"So close to the bell?"

"I need to prepare for an audition," You lie. There is no audition. The only thing waiting for you at home is an inherited prompt book for Kiss Me Kate to work on.

"I'll walk you to the station."

"You don't need to do that."

John corrals you toward the gate, his accompaniment apparently a foregone conclusion, and holds it open as you pass. "C'mon. It's been ten years. You used to escort me all the time."

You huff. "That was security, not me."

"You were always in the car, weren't you?"

John sticks to your side despite your protests, which last for all of one street. You slip once, and his arm offers itself immediately, which you take only for stability. Beneath the layers, his muscle is firm and a sure thing, unchallenged by your leaning on it. He's always been strong. 

"Is there a reason you avoided me all night?" he asks suddenly, showing you the small mercy of keeping his eyes trained forward.

The walk is slick, and you realize that a minute too late, his arm is both a gentlemanly safeguard and a leash.

"I didn't avoid you."

"No, you just ran off again before I could talk to you."

Ran off again. The lout remembers. Has to.

"Fine. I wasn't in the mood to be reminded of my failures."

He scoffs, arm flexing to squeeze your hand. "You weren't a failure. Furthest thing from it."

"I'm not talking about school, John," you snap, exasperated. You regret ever wishing he'd inquire after you. "I don't—I don't want to talk about that." You see him glance in your periphery and then search the air for a way forward. You provide it.

"So, Captain. That's a big deal." As much as it kills you, it's easier to speak of his successes. "Bet your parents are over the moon."

John sighs. "They're thrilled."

"You do anything particularly insane to earn it?"

"Can't tell you," he answers automatically, a notch more serious, his cigar adding a touch of drama.

You pat his arm. "You'd have to kill me?"

"Something like that."

A few minutes pass in silence. Muffled music and cheers trickle through open windows on either side of the streets. Midnight rapidly approaches, as does the station.

"You seeing anyone?"

Oof. Maybe you should've spoken about your failing acting career. At least that had some color and excitement.

"No. My boyfriend, uh, ex-boyfriend ended things a week ago."

John stops, gently tugging when you nearly stumble. His expression is difficult to read between lampposts, but his tone suggests contempt. "At Christmas?" 

You want to laugh at his incredulity, the pure scandal in his voice. But you don't. He's gone all serious again. "Two days before, actually. It's alright though," you nudge him to walk again. "It wasn't anything serious."

It's the truth. Jeff was a middling boyfriend. He was never going to go the distance. He'd been a half-decent romp and someone to drink with. 

"Well he seems like a serious idiot."

"I won't fight you on that," you shrug. "And you, Captain? I bet you must beat them off with a stick in uniform."

He chuckles, releasing smoke. "I'm not a Captain yet. And I'm too busy."

"You'll make Captain," you say a little too quickly, too confidently, snapping your focus back to the stairs to the station ahead. "I can make it from here."

John seems to consider it. He's quiet before he snuffs out his cigar on a bin. "I'll walk down with you."

You descend the steps arm in arm, passing a giggling, buzzed couple on their way up.

"It's a shame you're leaving before midnight, Cinderella," John teases as you stroll slowly into the virtually empty tunnel. His head is on a swivel. Ever the soldier, apparently.

The ground is dry and even below street level. There's no need to keep his arm.

"Yeah, well, I'd rather not stick around to see everything turn back into pumpkins," you check the time. The train is due at 12:02 AM.

John seems almost on edge as he looks around. You feel a slight, frenetic energy reverberating where your arms touch, mismatching the absolute rigidity of his bearing. His eyes are wilder when they meet yours, and his head dips slightly.

You frown. "What's wrong?"

"It's good luck to kiss somebody at midnight." He all but blurts out.

Your hold on his arm loosens, but he grips back firmer. "That's what's got you in a tizzy?"

"I don't know about you, but I'm going to need all the luck I can get this next year."

What is he going on about? His promotion? You're unsure if you like how he's looking at you. "John—"

A trio on the platform starts counting down some distance away, but the sound carries.

"Please." It's earnest. It's certain.

You bite your cheek, searching for any hint of this being a joke. "Just a friendly peck." you clarify.

"'Course." He reels you in, eyes half-lidded, closing in suddenly with a barely held-back urgency.

A hand cupping the back of your head knocks a gasp out of you. "It doesn't change anything." You quickly add.

"Not a thing."

Cheers erupt down the platform, but you barely hear them over the roar of blood in your ears. John's mouth is a force. It's earnest. It's certain. It was never going to be a friendly peck. You've kissed many people on stage and off, but never quite like this.

The train's rumbling knocks you back into reality. You're both breathing heavier. John's eyes darken with a hungry look, and everything in his posture suggests he's after more. Your name slips from his mouth like a command.

"Stay," he orders.

But you're not a soldier. You've never even played one. You're not equipped to face whatever this is—what that was. The doors to the car open behind you, and his eyes flicker toward them as if to will them shut. You shake your head imperceptibly.

"Happy New Years, John."

You step into the train, a coward. You don't look back to see if he watches the train depart, but you know he does.

It's another fourteen years before you see John Price again.