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thebiggerbear · 5 months

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Soldier Boy x Reader - Prompt Response - "Sleep. I'll keep you safe."

Summary: You're tired of running and you go to Soldier Boy for protection. He agrees to do it but not without a price.

Pairing: Soldier Boy x Female!Reader

A/N: Prompt from @thelonelyempath. The original character I wanted to respond to this prompt with before deciding to make it multi-character. This scenario immediately popped into my head reading the line and I just had to write it. Hope it's okay.

Thank you to my beta Em for her services. You rock, girl!

Sequel

Warnings: violence/murder; implied assassination attempts; sexual propositioning; Soldier Boy being himself; starts out as a blackmail type dynamic that appears as if a little dubcon at first; language?

Word Count: 2528

Please do not do any of the above. Thank you for your understanding.

Dividers by @firefly-graphics

SB Taglist: @heartlessdelusions; @nancymcl; @brightlilith

Jensen Taglist: @samanddeaninatrenchcoat

"Sleep. I'll keep you safe."

You never thought in a million years that you would be seeking out one of the most dangerous Supes in the world for protection. Then again, you never would have thought that a multi-billion dollar corporation would be after you, intent on seeing you torn apart and scattered to the four winds. You didn’t exactly blow the whistle on them, but you didn’t exactly tow the company line either—something Stan Edgar was less than thrilled with and now the evil son of a bitch wanted you dead.

It was no secret that Edgar and Soldier Boy had a falling out of sorts after the truth about his being handed to the Russians had come to light. His old team may have made it happen, but it was Edgar pulling the strings all along. Surprisingly, the Supe who had been so focused on revenge hadn’t hunted Edgar down after this revelation, which made you wary about going this route. However, after narrowly escaping the latest death squad sent after you, you decided you had no choice but to take the gamble. There was nowhere you could run that Vought wouldn’t find you and you just hoped this would be more of an ‘enemy of my enemy’ situation rather than a ‘handing you right over to your enemy’ situation.

Once you had managed to track him down in Hong Kong while you were busy running yourself, he had shockingly agreed to a meet, and even more shockingly agreed to help you. Not without certain stipulations, of course.

“Let me in that sweet pussy of yours and you’ve got yourself a deal.”

You should have known, especially from the way he had been eyeing you up ever since he caught sight of you. Screwing your face up in disgust, you flat out refused. “Not happening.”

He shrugged and began to walk away. “Then you must not need my protection that badly.”

You scoffed in disbelief. “You’re seriously turning me down because I won’t fuck you? Whatever happened to the ‘Soldier Boy is America’s son’ bullshit? The OG superhero who fought Nazis and protected people?”

Soldier Boy stopped and slowly turned back towards you. “I’d be putting myself on the line to protect you. For that, I deserve one hell of a payment.”

You rolled your eyes and crossed your arms. “So now you’re blackmailing me into sleeping with you? Unbelievable.” You had heard he was more like America’s Asshole than its Son, but you still couldn’t believe your ears. You had even offered to help him take Vought down with what you knew, so long as he kept you safe. You knew he’d want that kind of information. Why else was he hopping from continent to continent in the last few months, trying to shake Vought just like you were? Instead, his dick was taking top priority. Typical.

“It’s the least you can do, doll.” He faced you fully again, shield hanging off of his arm as if it weighed nothing. “Like you said, I fought for this country, fought the Nazis, and now you’re asking me to play bodyguard while taking on Vought for you. I deserve something worth all that trouble.”

You ran through all other options in your mind. You still had a contact that could possibly put you in touch with someone that wouldn’t mind tapping into Vought’s offshore accounts that weren’t supposed to exist. You were already on Vought’s kill list; what would a few hundred thousand dollars of theirs matter? “I could pay you,” you offered.

“I’m not interested in money.” His eyes roved over you as he approached. “Besides,” he murmured as he came to a stop in front of you. You tensed as he reached up to tuck a strand of your hair that had gotten loose from under your ball cap behind your ear. ”I haven’t had a looker as pretty as you in a long time. Been locked away.” He gently gripped your chin in between his thumb and index finger, his eyes intent on your mouth before lifting to meet yours. A hint of a smirk started to appear on his handsome face when he most likely heard your heart beat starting to increase.

He released you and even took a step back from you, allowing you physical and metaphorical space. “Your call.”

You bit your lip as thoughts chaotically swirled inside your head. On one hand, you refused to be manipulated or pushed into sex with this asshole. No matter how physically attractive he might be, you weren’t willing to get on your back just so he would help you. But on the other hand, the cold hard truth was that you were tired — tired of running, tired of little-to-no sleep, tired of the paranoia that came with such a flight. Hell, at present, you hadn’t slept in almost two days and you were running on fumes; there wasn’t enough caffeine or energy pills in the world to get you through another day with no rest. Your reaction time was already dragging if your last narrow escape was anything to go by. If you continued this way, you’d be dead before the sun started to warm the sky; you were certain of it.

Soldier Boy stared you down. “What’s it gonna be?”

You didn’t answer. Instead, you glanced behind you at a small noise far off down the street. Thankfully, it was an old woman tossing something out onto the pavement, but you couldn’t deny it put you further on edge. You turned back to the Supe whose eyes stayed trained on you. You took a deep breath to steady your nerves and readied your response. His lips began to quirk upwards into a smile; he knew what your answer was going to be before you even said the words.

Vought Tower had been completely demolished. Luckily, it had been mostly evacuated before the destruction occurred. A fight between Soldier Boy and the now-dead Homelander had caused most of the damage, but the C4 that had been carefully lined throughout the infrastructure is what ended up bringing it down.

Before it went boom, Soldier Boy had approached Stan Edgar, who refused to cower in a corner. The Supe respected that, but it didn’t change what he’d come here to do. He gripped Edgar by the throat and lifted him in the air, choking the older man and ignoring the fingers that desperately clawed at his hand.

“I thought we had an agreement,” Edgar rasped out.

Soldier Boy shrugged. “She made me a better one.” He then snapped the man’s neck and tossed his body aside like a rag doll.

“Oi! We ought to get out of here,” Butcher warned after seeing Stan Edgar lifeless on the floor. “Frenchie’s about to blow this place to fucking hell.”

He glared over at the Brit and picked up his shield. He still didn’t trust him, not after what he and his merry band of assholes had tried to do the last time they’d teamed up, but he’d made a deal with you and he was intent on keeping his end of it. The only conditions Butcher and Captain Lesbo had given this time around was: no civilian casualties and Ryan was off limits. He did his best with the first and he could give less than a fuck on the other. As far as he was concerned, the kid was Butcher’s problem as long as the kid didn’t come looking for some payback once he got older, which Butcher assured he wouldn’t. That, and there better not be Novichok gas waiting at the end of this mission for him. They’d reluctantly agreed, knowing they had no other way to kill Homelander and take down Vought all in one swoop.

“After you.” Soldier Boy gestured for Butcher to leave first. The man scowled but obliged, keeping a wary eye out as he moved. Smirking, Soldier boy followed. The Supe might have enjoyed the reaction—or even tried to settle the score from Butcher’s previous betrayal—if he didn’t have you to get back to. He needed to let you know that you no longer had Stan Edgar or Vought to worry about. He’d kept up his end of the bargain you’d both made — now, finally, you were free.

You woke up to the sound of someone moving through the darkness in your room. You grabbed the gun from beneath your pillow and bolted upright as much as you could, trying to get your eyes to adjust so you could get a good shot.

“Relax, it’s just me,” Soldier Boy assured you.

Recognizing his voice, you slowly lowered the gun and focused on his location. When your eyes finally adjusted, you realized he was near the foot of the bed, completely nude, his hair damp from a fresh shower. “Ben,” you breathed out in relief. “You scared me.”

Through the beams of moonlight shining into the room from the window, you saw him give you a smile and lay his shield down on the floor next to him. “Didn’t mean to.”

You slipped the safety back on the gun and stashed it into the drawer of your nightstand. You hated having it under your pillow at night; it was super uncomfortable and you only needed to do that when Soldier Boy — Ben, as he’d asked you to call him instead — wasn’t around. “Everything go okay?”

“Better than okay.” You glanced back to see a smirk adorning that handsome face of his, with an all-too familiar gleam in those green eyes. You watched as he slipped on some sweats and then made his way to the opposite side of the bed. You moved onto your side to face him, smiling as he climbed in next to you and sat up against the headboard, turning to grin down at you. Within seconds, he had his arms wrapped around you, pulling you up against him, and he was kissing you a proper hello. He only pulled back when you needed air and tenderly rubbed his nose along yours, nuzzling you. “How about you, doll? Everything go okay while I was gone?”

You nodded and snuggled into his bare chest, letting out a relieved sigh when you felt his warm hands stroking your back. “Everything’s fine,” you assured him, closing your eyes. You’d never admit it aloud, but you felt so much better when he was around. Not only did you feel protected but you just felt better in general. You’d have to be under the pain of torture to admit to him (or yourself) that you actually missed him when he had to leave.

He pressed a kiss to the top of your head and let his lips linger there, continuing to rub your back just the way you liked. “Edgar and Vought are gone,” he murmured. “The Caped Cunt, too. You’ve got nothing more to worry about.”

Your eyes snapped open and you lifted yourself up to meet his gaze, your brows furrowed. “What?” You asked in shock.

“You heard me.” He stroked your cheek with his thumb, his grin now a smug smile. “You’re safe, baby.”

Your eyes widened when the realization hit you. “That’s where you went?”

Your only answer was the lengthening of that smile.

“Jesus, Ben.” So many thoughts and emotions swirled within you all at once. You were free, truly free. You no longer had to worry about Vought death squads hunting you down, Homelander coming for you, or Stan Edgar sending after you any ragtag Supes he could scrounge up. You were free. Although, Ben hadn’t told you that he was about to go on his most dangerous mission yet. He might be America’s original superhero and he might be tough to kill, but that didn’t mean he was completely invincible. He’d admitted as much to you over the last few months. “What if… What if you didn’t—”

He kissed you, effectively cutting you off. “I did,” he hummed against your lips. “Told you I would.”

You nodded, gently tracing his facial features with your hands before gliding down to his shoulders, dipping down the warm expanse of his back and then slowly returning to his chest. As always, he remained patient whenever you did this ritual of checking him for any wounds or injuries, knowing you wouldn’t find any but needing to assure yourself just the same. Truthfully, this man had come to mean more to you than you’d ever imagined would be possible. Hell, there had been a time when it wouldn’t have been possible at all.

When you were done, you met his gaze head on. “Do I want to know?”

Ben remained silent, but his eyes said it all: no, you didn’t want to know. You and Ben may have planned for the downfall of Vought and the ends of Homelander and Stan Edgar, the very same bastards that had put a target on your back in the first place, but that didn’t mean you wanted to hear the gory details of their deaths. You were just grateful Ben had come back to you alive and unharmed.

You gave him a thin-lipped smile in understanding. “Thank you,” you whispered.

Ben studied you for a moment, then pulled you in and kissed you again, his fingers slipping through your hair until he grabbed the back of your neck and urged you to meet him more fully. Just as you were getting into it, he broke away and chuckled. “You’re real eager for me, aren’t you, sweetheart?” You shot him a look and the smirk was suddenly back on his face. Without warning, he picked you up to rearrange you in the bed how he wanted you. “Too bad that you need to get some rest. We’re blowing the fuck out of here tomorrow and you’re gonna need to keep up.”

As if he would leave you behind if you couldn’t. “I thought you said Butcher would leave us alone after this.”

“I don’t trust that dicksucking Brit and I trust his bitch of a boss even less.”

You rolled your eyes, smirking when you felt him settle in behind you, knowing how much he enjoyed spooning you like this. “‘Kay,” you agreed. He had successfully protected you this far; you’d follow his lead on this one, too. You shut your eyes and snuggled into your pillow, content to feel his hands on your back caressing you once more. You were just about asleep when you heard him murmur in your ear, “Sleep. I’ll keep you safe.” You smiled when you heard the words he’d been saying to you every night now for many months and your heart lightened when you felt his hands trail from your back to cup protectively over your rounding stomach, rubbing gently. ‘Safe’ is exactly how you felt right in this moment, and the little girl moving to meet her father’s embrace—like she always did when she sensed he was near—only cemented the knowledge that this was the first night neither you nor she were in danger any longer. It gave you a sense of peace you hadn’t known in a long time.

A/N: Please let me know what you think. 😊

#soldier boy x reader #soldier boy x female reader #soldier boy x you #soldier boy x y/n #soldier boy #the boys fanfiction #the boys #prompt response #the boys fandom #soldier boy fanfiction #soldier boy x female!human!reader #female!human!reader #jensen ackles #jensen ackles character #thebiggerbear

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theblueflower05 · 1 year

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Here for the blue alien brain rot. Will never not mourn the fact that Pandora is a fictional planet.

Requests are OPEN. Please send them in asks if possible. It’s easier for me to keep track of them. feel free to hop on anon if there’s any discomfort(but know I’m always open and down to chit chat!)

You cultivate your online experience. Please remember that fact as you browse through my works. All of which will be tagged accordingly. Please do not click read more- if you do not want to read more.

I am not here to police how you use Tumblr, but Minors- Please Do Not Interact.

Neteyam Works

Neteyam x human reader thigh riding

Omega!Neteyam Headcannons

Neteyam fucking you standing up

Mean Neteyam Choking and Spitting

Multi Part Stories I am working on as of: 6/6/23:

✨First Love/Late Spring Series Masterlist✨

As a high standing member of the Metkayina Tribe, it’s been a mystery as to why you’re still unmated, years into your adulthood. When the eldest Sully boy catches your eye- you hope that you won’t spend the upcoming Fertility Season alone. Filled with lots of angst, smut and all around tooth rotting fluff.

Neteyam x Female Metkayina Reader!

Part One: First Love/Late Spring

Part Two: Crawling Back to You

Part Three: Bottom of the Deep Blue Sea

You Get Me So High

Drabble! In the FLLS universe! You and Neteyam share a morning full of domestic bliss. PG-13, Minors can interact with this one!

✨Howling For You Series Masterlist✨

Neteyam has always been awkward, defensive and guarded when it comes to love. Being an Omega, he’s always felt the need to overcompensate for his secondary gender. When the Alpha daughter of Tonowari and Ronal makes it clear that she wants to court him, will he be able to let go of his own self doubt and accept the love that she’s so willing to give?

Omega Neteyam x Female Alpha Reader

Part One: Fxtavang(passionate)

Part Two: Yawnyewla(broken hearted)

Part Three: Tizin(entangled)

Part Four: Coming soon!

Mi Ti’ong(In Bloom)

Summary: Neteyam can have anyone and yet he only wants you. A small human who can usually be found among the flowers. Neteyam x Human! Reader

Based off of @oakbuggy Neteyam x Flora art!

Heavy In Your Arms

Summary: You and Neteyam find comfort in each-others bodies after he almost dies. Set in High Camp, circa the beginning of ATWOW. Neteyam x Omatikaya Reader!

Sweetest Sylaung

Summary: You have no right to have your eyes set on the future Olo’eyktan of the Omiticaya, but you just can’t seem to resist. Neteyam x Human Reader

Explicit. Aged up! Characters. Minors DNI

Just a Little Taste

Summary: Being eight months pregnant with the child of the future Olo’eyktan inherently comes with its pressures, the fact that you’re pregnant in the middle of a war makes it worse. Neteyam likes to remind you that you’re in control.

Neteyam x Human!Reader

Explicit! Aged up characters! Minors DNI.

Cosmic Love

As Kiri’s closest friend, you had always found your self sucked in by the gravitational pull of the Sully family. Neteyam had become your sun, and you orbited around only him.

On Hiatus until further notice

——————————————

Lo’ak Works

Omega Loak being knotted for the first time

Spit Kink

Lo’ak x Fem!Reader x Tsireya threesome

Omega Lo’ak reacting to the news that his Female!Alpha mate is pregnant

Overstimulation

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Jake Sully Works

Drabbles

Cock warming(Avatar Jake x Human Reader)

Alpha Jakes first knot

Omega Jakes first heat(Jake x Neytiri)

Jake spitting in your mouth

Buzzcut Season

Summary: You’re a scientist working closely with Grace Augistine at the Pandorian outreach base of Hell’s Gate. When you develop a crush on ex-jarhead Jake Sully it’s all consuming. You don’t really care what body he’s in. You want him.

Human Jake x Human Reader. Avatar! Jake x Human reader.

Explicit. Coming soon.

——————————————

Misc Drabbles!

Being Ao’nungs peace

Reminding Tsireya who she belongs to

Tsu’tey has a breeding kink

Neytiri rides you

Who’s the most likely to come untouched? Multi!

Characters I will write for/ Have plans for:

Ao’nung

Neytiri

Tsireya

Ronal

Tonowari

Tsu’tey

Miles Quaritch(um…yeah. I never thought we’d be here, but here we are)

Spider Socorro

*The art used in this Masterlist is not mine, no credit goes to me. If you are the artist and would like to be credited, please let me know. If you are the artist and would like to have your pieces removed, please let me know. The aged up Lo’ak AI art is by @smilexskxawng*

#neteyam smut #neteyam x reader smut #neteyam avatar #neteyam sully #jake sully x reader #jake sully smut #neytiri x reader #neytiri smut #tsu'tey #tsu'tey x reader #tsu'tey smut

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honeyhotteoks · 7 months

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hi everyone ♡ a little about where i've been and why i'm not posting....

so... it's no secret that i fell off the face of the earth when it comes to writing, and for that i just want to apologize. i know a lot of you have been waiting for the next chapter of tnt, further aurora updates, or just looking forward to some smutty kinktober one-shots...... but to be completely honest i haven't written in a little while.

i've been trying to but i keep coming up short, and i've been avoiding this blog ever since because i just feel bad for not being able to give you guys the stories you're waiting for. for that reason, i essentially took a creative break and decided not to respond to any messages about writing. i know that kind of sucks, but i know myself and i didn't want to promise "soon" when i knew that wasn't true.

i'm starting slowly to work on things again, and i really hope i'll be able to share some of that work with you soon, but genuinely i just needed space from working on fic and to be honest..... from the fandom. i love being an atiny, but there was a swell of negativity on twitter for a while and i've been feeling a little uninspired with the past year of content and endless touring and it all combined into me putting things off.

i'm also................................ much more of a multi now.... which i really never thought would happen but here we are. i have no idea if i'll actually start writing for any of those groups, but if i do, i hope some of you also enjoy those groups and you stick with me. a little blurb about my new biases and the groups i'm now following, etc. is at the bottom of this post.

as far as what's going on with my ateez work? here's a quick recap:

this night together: still in progress, i have ~4 chapters finished, but chap ten and some of the time skips have me a little stuck. once i iron that out and finish out the last 2-3 chapters after the arc that's written, i'll get back to posting. at this point i'd like to have it done so i can release it confidently and as a complete story. into the aurora: i have about half of book one edited, which will include some new scenes / cleaned up scenes, but nothing crazy. i'd like to start updating old chapters once everything is finalized. book two is.... slow going. i'm hoping a breath of fresh air will help, but it's still my goal to come back to these characters. one-shots: i have about 4-5 ateez one-shots that are half written. my plan is to finish these and release them as inspiration strikes to wrap them up.

thank you all for your patience, and all of your kind messages. so many people have checked in on me both anon and not, and even if i haven't responded it's meant so much as i work on coming back to writing. i may not be able to respond to all the messages since so many of them are in my inbox, but slowly i may chip away at them

i'll see you all very soon~

(so chai multi era.... in a whirlwind of discovering other kpop groups..... i've ended up a carat, a stay, a moa, and a hidden kard. again, no idea if i'll ever write for any of these groups, but.... my biases are below so who knows)

seventeen - s.coups (regularly wrecked by hip hop line + dino) stray kids - lee know + hyunjin txt - soobin (are we surprised tho) kard - bm + jiwoo (but also like basically ot4 let's be real here)

♡

#honeyhotteoks updates #i love you all i hope i can get my ish together soon #also if you see me start to reblog non ateez fic recs......#we're in the chai multi era #surprise???????

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ranticore · 2 months

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lazy drawing for the day, i wanted to make a so-called shortstrider character. it's fairly common to see people like this (shortwing and landstrider parentage) around the dry breaks in the north-eastern dry. This consists of a dense multi-story network of mesas and stone pillars with a terraced appearance, not quite as vertically-arranged as a spire but still very three-dimensional, unlike the dry bowl. it mostly consists of a huge network of interconnected fishing villages as the sea flows around this honeycomb of rock.

shortstriders can't fly, can't glide well due to bone density, and can't hop efficiently on the flat (though his vertical jump is excellent). this one, a dock marshal, uses his beacon and reflective headgear to guide ships into port at night. he wears shoes which act as assistive devices to support his feet and stilts to make him a little taller (and more important-looking). the reflective disk is made from iridescent leviathan scale. due to the micro-structures in the scale, light is thrown back similarly to a high-vis vest or a cat's eye on the road. he can warp the surface of the scale and its reflective propertiies by increasing the tension of its housing bracket (operated by a screw on the side), and in conjunction with his beacon providing the light, can make flashing signals at approaching ships.

#time period uhhh maybe a couple centuries before The University Scandal #setting: siren #i saw the sex sweep in the poll i posted earlier today. well harpies can reproduce with one another even when body sizes are very different #for a specific reason which i guess i'll talk about later

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tennessoui · 4 months

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hi kit i swear to god someone sent in 35 from the prompt list for 'one of them is trying to get the other off of drugs' but someone must have deleted the ask from your ask box.

oh no! who could have done such a thing. after i already wrote 3k for this prompt and everything!

(but in seriousness i KNOW someone sent me that prompt i just can't find it rn!!! but i enjoyed writing this so much it really literally could be the first chapter of a multi-chapter fic......we'll see)

(also this is what i wrote for the same prompt from a few years ago)

35. one of them is trying to get the other off of drugs

(3k) (warning: non con drugging/attempted date rape drugs used -not by main characters)

Obi-Wan’s got a heavy mind most days. Heavy heart too, but it’s been a while since he checked in with that part of himself. Mind’s easier.

Right now, he’s mostly annoyed at the cantina crowd, but that’s a most days thing too. After all, the cantina’s in the middle of the spaceport, best watering hole around. Only watering hole around, really, and it gets him all sorts of people walking through his doors.

Some days, he really wishes Linell’s hadn’t closed, mostly so he could send the roughest looking folk that way instead. He doesn’t care much if smugglers decide to get wasted at a bar before hopping in the cockpit of their ships, but he doesn’t necessarily want it to happen at his cantina.

Mostly because when smugglers get drunk, they get rowdy. They get dangerous. They get handsy.

And Obi-Wan’s not under any sort of illusion here, he knows what sort of cantina he runs, knows the crowd it attracts, knows no one’s ever gonna bring their youngling past the doors—knows that no Jedi is ever going to stop in for a drink.

But that doesn’t mean he’s going to allow for that sort of ruckus. The Temple raised him better than that, for whatever that’s worth. They instilled a pretty solid understanding of morality in him at a young age; then the AgriCorps gave him an appreciation of organization and tidiness that even after two decades away from it all, he hasn’t managed to shake.

It makes for bad business anyway, to allow the rougher-looking crowd to linger in the back corner, swat at the passing serving girl, call out harassments to other customers. And perhaps this wasn’t the life Obi-Wan thought he’d have, but it’s the life he does have. And he’s in no mood for his cantina to go under as well because of morons like Chak Tuuel getting too drunk and causing a scene.

It was easier four years ago, Obi-Wan has to admit. It was easier to keep a tight hold on his cantina when he could openly use the Force to pull patrons off of each other, push one back to his chair and spirit the other to the far side of the room. It was easier when all it took to convince a pirate that he’d be better switching to water was a well-placed Force command.

But the rise of the Empire saw the criminalization of Force users, even ones who can’t be called Jedi, like Obi-Wan.

It’s been bad for business, the Empire has. That’s the only thing Obi-Wan cares about, the only reason he has to hold such hatred in his heart for the emperor. It has nothing to do with the massacre of the Jedi, the fall of the Temple. It’s because it’s bad for business. That’s all.

Now he has to be ten times more discerning about who he lets into his cantina because he has to actually reason with them now. On more than one occasion in the past four years, since the Fall of the Temple, he’s chopped off a patron’s hand. Arm. Whatever.

That’s also bad for business in general, though it’s not as if he can actually get into much trouble for it, considering he owns this cantina. And it’s the Outer Rim. Anything goes.

His eyes survey the cantina as his hands busy themselves making a drink for a rather quiet patron at the bar. Most likely a businessman of some sort, given how often Obi-Wan’s seen him come in and out.

It’s rather late in the night, as much as there is a night at the spaceport. The cantina’s full of the usual sorts, and the place is loud. There’s a group of five men in the back, dressed like smugglers. Obi-Wan has been watering down their drinks for the last two rounds, but they’ve yet to notice. Their eyes are ravenous as they look around them. Most of them are big, all are human. There’s one small one amongst the pack, and it’s him that Obi-Wan’s eyes stick to.

There’s something about him. Maybe it’s the way he holds himself, tense and with his shoulder hunched. Maybe it’s because of how smaller he is than the companions he’s chosen. Maybe it’s because he’s so pretty.

Even from all the way across the cantina, Obi-Wan knows the boy is pretty, can see his pale pink lips and dark golden curly hair. He doesn’t look like the sort of person who tends towards the crowds of pirates and smugglers that populate the back corners of Obi-Wan’s cantina. He looks out of place, misplaced.

Sith’s hells, Obi-Wan probably looks more like a smuggler than this boy. Even the scar across his face, through his eyebrow and trailing down his cheek does little to make the boy look dangerous. Even his outfit—a black cloak on top of other, darker clothes—cannot make him look as dangerous as the men around him.

But they had come in as a pack, the boy in the middle of them. It had been the boy who had talked with the serving girl, Challa, who sat them. It had been him who’d ordered the first round of drinks.

The Force is screaming, a loud reverberation of a warning filling up his head and making the beginnings of his headache twenty times worse.

If someone dies tonight in Obi-Wan’s cantina, Obi-Wan is going to make Challa fill out the flimsiwork. It would be what she deserves for allowing this crowd in.

A moment before Obi-Wan looks away, the boy looks up from his drink and catches him staring. His face freezes as it is, held tight as he looks at Obi-Wan looking at him. For a strange moment, it looks like his eyes flash gold before they fall away, attention grabbed by the kid next to him.

Obi-Wan’s own attention is claimed a moment later.

“Whatcha looking at, boss?” the second bartender on shift asks, resting their arms on the counter beside him. “You look mighty disgruntled.”

“So you thought adding yourself to the situation would help,” he says automatically, caustically as he turns away from the group to stare at his employee. “Naturally.” “Naturally,” Saak agrees with a pointy smile. “I’m a saint.”

“Hm,” Obi-Wan says, even though he quite likes working with the twi’lek. These days, Obi-Wan keeps much close to his chest—especially his affection.

“That’s not an answer to my question,” Saak points out, looking back out at the cantina. “Who’s caught your eye? Because me and the crew in the back have a bet going about if you’re ever going to take someone home.” “I don’t mix business and pleasure,” Obi-Wan says, eyes staying resolutely away from the boy’s table.

“See, that’s part of the bet,” Saak says, easy as anything. “We don’t think you have pleasure.”

Obi-Wan frowns and turns to look at them fully. “What.”

Saak shrugs. “I don’t think I’ve seen you smile once, and I’ve worked here for three years. You don’t come out with us after work, you throw out every comm sequence customers leave you-–and trust me, I know there’s been a lot, you never mention anyone at home. In your personal life.”

“I enjoy a healthy amount of privacy,” Obi-Wan snaps, clenching his fists tight on the towel between his hands before he carefully tosses his irritation into the Force.

He understands almost immediately that his anger isn’t even at Saak for prying or at his employees for gossiping.

It’s because he knows Saak is right. Not about—well, not about abstaining from sex, as Obi-Wan gets a rather sizable amount of sex at any given time. But about the distance. The lack of pleasure. Even the sex doesn’t light him up the way it did when he was seventeen, fresh from leaving the Agricorps and setting out across the stars. A consequence of age probably.

“Hey,” Saak’s tone changes, turning from cajoling employee into something much more concerned. “That table in the back, look—I don’t think that guy is doing alright.”

Obi-Wan snaps out of his thoughts instantly and looks at where Saak’s gesturing.

He knows before he even sees them that it’s that Force forsaken table in the back.

And Saak’s right, shit.

The boy Obi-Wan had been staring at looks—looks rough suddenly. His head is reclining back onto the body of the man beside him, eyes half-lidded. He’s flushed a flattering red, lips parted and stained an even darker color.

He could just be feeling the effects of the alcohol he’s been consuming for the past hour now, but it’s the way his companions look at him that has Obi-Wan rounding the bar and crossing the cantina. They look hungry. Eager. Anticipatory.

In the Force, the boy’s muted presence has become fuzzy. Muted.

Of course the moment Obi-Wan turns his gaze away from the group, they drug the boy. It suddenly seems so inevitable that it’s almost funny. Of course this was going to happen.

“What did you give him,” he demands as he reaches the table. The anger licking at his chest is new. Useful. Righteous.

One of the smugglers, the one next to the boy, tosses him a sleazy grin, wrapping his arm around the boy’s shoulder. “No need to kick us out, mister,” he says. “We were just leaving.”

“Yes, you were,” Obi-Wan nods sharply. “Without him.”

The smuggler’s grin slides off his face. “He came with us.”

“You drugged him!”

The boy in question looks up at Obi-Wan as much as he can with his eyes half-way to shut. “Oh,” he says. “That’s what it is.”

His voice is slow and deep. A byproduct of the drug?

He blinks at him in syrupy slowness, and his eyes are tawny. Why had Obi-Wan thought they were blue from across the cantina? They shine golden now.

Something about his eyes, his face, the way he’s looking at Obi-Wan makes his thin sense of control snap. “You will leave now,” he commands, Force reverberating through the words, so strong that the smugglers stand to attention immediately, repeating the order mindlessly.

Even the boy struggles to obey, pushing up on his feet in drunken surety.

“Not you,” Obi-Wan snaps. The boy sits back down like his strings have been cut, a sigh of relief at the release.

It’s entirely too orgasmic to be appropriate.

And the way the boy looks up at him is entirely too trusting for someone who’s just been drugged by his companions.

“I hope you have another form of transportation off here,” Obi-Wan says with a sigh. “I imagine you will not want to travel with them tomorrow.” “I’ll kill ‘em,” the boy mumbles, letting his head fall back.

“Sure, kid,” Obi-Wan tells him. He looks like he couldn’t hurt a fly, let alone kill a man, but he’s also not entirely sure the boy would appreciate him pointing that out. He looks like a kid who’s decided to try and play outlaw.

This is what happens to kids who try to play outlaw, he thinks dispassionately.

“Not a kid,” the kid says.

“Sure, kid.” He’ll need water. Obi-Wan grabs at his chin and forces his eyes up. His pupils are so dilated it’s hard to even see what color his irises are. Paired with the flushed cheeks, the poor coordination, and the slurred but cohesive speech, Obi-Wan’s pretty sure he knows what sort of spice they used on the poor kid.

And the comedown is legendary for how rough it is.

Obi-Wan barely resists the urge to sigh. It’s even harder to resist the urge to scream.

He hates the men who laced the boy’s drink. He hates Challa for letting the group of men into his cantina, thereby making this his problem. He hates Vynny for crashing his speeder and forcing Obi-Wan to cover his shift while he recuperates from the loss of both legs.

And he hates the fucking ghost of the Jedi Order for instilling in him the importance of doing the right thing.

“You’re coming home with me,” he says, unable to stop himself from sighing.

The boy blinks at him. “If you touch me, I’ll kill you too,” he warns, but his eyes are still much too trusting. “Slowly.” “Noted,” Obi-Wan snaps, reaching down to fish the boy out of the booth. “And when you’re sober again, you’re going to be paying for the entire tab you and your lot racked up.”

The boy pouts, even as he allows Obi-Wan to drag him to his feet. “What if I let you touch me instead?” “I don’t want to touch you,” Obi-Wan says. “I want the credits.” The boy giggles and presses his face against his neck. Obi-Wan waves to Saak behind the bar, gesturing to the boy and then to the doors, trying to convey I’m going home to take care of this absolute youngling because I am a better person than you and you need to take care of my cantina and lock up behind you and no, this does not count as taking a customer home with me.

Saak gives him two thumbs up, so Obi-Wan is hoping that means the message has been received. It had better be received.

“What’s your name, kid?” he asks as he navigates out of the cantina. Thank the Force, his own cruiser is close. The boy is heavier and bigger than he’d looked amongst the rest of his group. Firmer and more weighted with muscle. And Obi-Wan is no waif, but he doesn’t care to lug around a man who is actually, well. Taller than him.

“Vader,” the boy mumbles, nuzzling into Obi-Wan’s touch. “Why do you feel so good?”

“It’s the spice they gave you,” Obi-Wan mutters. “Makes touch feel good, makes you…want.”

“Oh,” Vader says, rubbing his face against Obi-Wan’s neck like a cat. “I don’t want it.” “Me neither, kid,” he assures him, propping him up against the side of his ship so he can unlock it and key in the code to have the ramp descend.

“Good,” Vader says. “Keep touching me.”

Obi-Wan bites his lip so he doesn’t tell the kid that he doesn’t take commands, not even from imperious little boys who sound as if they’re very used to being obeyed.

It adds more evidence to his theory that Vader is some spoiled rich kid looking to rebel.

“What were you even doing with them?” He mutters as he drops Vader into the seldom-used co-pilot seat of his ship. “Not the sort you’d want to hang around with, are they?” “Bellion,” Vader replies loosely, waving a weak hand. “As’ —assign—assignm’nt.”

It takes through takeoff for Obi-Wan to realize what he’s said. “The Rebellion? You were on an assignment for the rebellion?” Vader makes a noise and turns his head to look at him, eyes almost shut. “Bellion,” he agrees, before promptly passing out.

“Huh,” Obi-Wan says.

Of course he knew that there was a rebellion against the empire, that they were building in both power and numbers as the years grew. He’d even flirted with the notion of joining it himself, but he’d always stepped back. The rebellion was too close to the Jedi. And the Jedi had made it clear that they did not want him.

Why would the rebellion be any different?

When he’s entered hyperspace, he looks over at the boy who has turned his head away from him, exposing the long lines of his neck.

He really is quite beautiful, for better or for worse.

The boy shifts, restless. He pushes himself further into the seat, leaning back and spreading his legs. Obi-Wan would wonder what he’s dreaming about, but before he can, the boy’s cloak shifts.

And there, on his hip. The handle of a lightsaber.

Obi-Wan is moving before he can help it, stepping over to Vader’s side of the ship quietly, eyes glued to the ‘saber.

It’s been so long since he’s seen one. He never got to hold his own. Never made one himself.

But here is one now, on Vader’s hip. Vader is a Jedi. A Jedi!

It is part greed, part agony, and part disbelief that makes Obi-Wan reach his hand out and carefully detach the blade from Vader’s belt.

The boy does not even notice, except to push his hip up further at the ghost of Obi-Wan’s touch.

It’s a heavy weight in Obi-Wan’s hand, and he takes a moment to just—look at it. It’s darker than he would have crafted his own, sturdier and longer too, as if Vader wields it with two hands. He probably does—Obi-Wan still remembers his forms, remembers each stance down to the footwork. Vader has the body to be a formidable Djem’So user. Or Atari. Obi-Wan had favored the latter when he was an Initiate.

Vader is a Jedi. Perhaps—perhaps in the morning, after the spice is out of his system, he can tell Obi-Wan about the Temple in its final days. Surely he was not there, Obi-Wan doesn’t know how anyone could have survived the massacre, but he must know. He does not truly look so young that he would have been an Initiate. He must have been a Knight.

Perhaps Obi-Wan will tell him about being raised there. He can share in his pain, if only a little bit. After all, Obi-Wan spent thirteen years of his life at the Temple. The Jedi will always hold a part of his heart. He has never before wanted to admit that, but now—Vader is a Jedi. He would understand.

Obi-Wan’s mouth is dry as he drops his gaze back to the saber.

He wants suddenly, terribly, to flick it on. To hear the buzz of the ions of the blade. To see the color of Vader’s kyber crystal. He wants to take pleasure from the sight of it, the enduring symbol of it, of the Order.

He knows he should not. He knows he has no right to it. If he were meant to hold a lightsaber, his life would have worked out in thirteen thousand different ways.

But—Vader is asleep.

And no one would have to know.

If just for a second, Obi-Wan allowed himself to give into his want.

He flicks it on and then almost drops it from the sheer surprise he feels as it powers to life in his hands. Because the blade is not green. It isn’t blue. It isn’t even purple, like he remembers Master Windu’s being.

It is a sickly looking red.

It is not a blade of a Jedi.

Obi-Wan flicks it off and tucks it back onto Vader's belt. Then he sits down in the pilot's chair once more, head spinning and heart racing.

And he directs the ship to drop out of hyperspace to his homeplanet anyway because---well. What else can he do? He'd promised to take the boy home and see him off the spice.

The fact that the boy is---is a Sith does not change anything. It cannot.

#asks #prompt fill #obikin #vaderwan #anakin is going to wake up and be like aw why is he being so distant and grouchy #and obi-wan is going to be like i cant believe im helping someone who probably helped murder my family #but then vader who has not experienced kindness from strangers before #keeps coming back for more kindness from this grumpy stranger #this is like #non consensual adoption of a grumpy bartender au #or something lmao

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bu11seye · 2 months

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permanent interactions call .

by liking this post you are giving me permission to just throw jessie into your inbox randomly , tag you in random starters , and make your muse a more constant person in jessie's life ! this also means more ooc communication for plotting , and establishing more dynamic and fleshed out relationships for our characters . * if we are already actively shipping , by liking this you are giving me permission to up our interactions . multis please list which muses you'd like this for , or say whole blog !

things that jessie can and will probably do for your muse :

bake them treats .

tend to their pets injuries !

steal some things for them !

make them things !

help them with mundane tasks !

listen to their problems and give unwanted advice !

talk their ear off .

things that i ( mimi ) can and will probably do for our muses :

send unprompted memes, asks , and random scenarios for our muses to interact .

hop into your inbox ( through here or discord ) to talk about things that remind me of our characters .

create a tag for us here on tumblr and reblog things for our muses .

create pinterest boards and edits for our muses .

please be aware that i am looking for platonic relationships before shipping , but we can see where things go . jessie will most likely reference your character in threads with others depending on the relationship we create .

below are some platonic and kinda random dynamics i want to explore based on verse !!

wanted connections main verse : best friend , found family , coworkers -- other vets ; bartenders or just odd job workers , friendly and not so friendly neighbors , club / party / drinking buddies , villain that jessie can just scheme against like they're in a cartoon , roomie , annoying classmate she follows on socials , the owner of a place she frequently visits , old classmates and townspeople of where she grew up , friends of her parents ( older muses ) , unrequited crushes ( both sides are welcome ) , friends of her older brother woody , new partners of her older brother woody , more gay friends to do more gay things with , flings that stay flings -- no romantic ties , college friend group .

wanted connections vampire verse : all of the dynamics above , owner of a bunker or safe house , connections for when she stays certain places and needs to start over , personal blood bags , someone to look after her different houses and her pets while she is away . other sires of her now deceased maker father adam ( bio in progress but can be given on request ) to bond with , other vampires from his sireline that hate that she killed him / are after her , family of victims that jessie herself has killed , designers and rich celebrity circles where she would have more access to wealth and money through connections rather than compulsion , old flames and relationships from the past that pop up out of the woodwork every hundred or so years , people to do favors for her in exchange for manual labor like her strength or ability to be somewhere quickly to give messages , witches on standby , ghosts who haunt her house .

wanted connections hunger games verse : other tributes of her games , capitol workers , other members of her district , past winners , mentees , her own mentor and other mentors of the games , game makers , lucky flickerman / effie trinket / canon characters and family of those canons , designers , tribute that kills jessie in her games ( wanting to do a ghost / haunting plot for character work ) , allies , sponsors , cooks , flings , stable hand for when she lives in the capitol for awhile after her games .

wanted connections demigod verse : mentor , bunk mate , sparring partner , monster friend , other demi gods to befriend , quest members (2) open to more than one mun for trio dynamics ! .

if you are interested in writing in the same verse as another mun i am currently writing with that you see on the dash , please contact me so i can set something up to talk with both you and the other mun . i am more than welcoming of threads that involve more than one mun but all parties need to be on the same page in order to proceed <3

wanted settings i would like to explore for misc verses :

western , historical , high fantasy , otherworldly ( alice in wonderland , coraline , narnia , etc ) , apocalyptic , dystopian / utopian .

#interaction call #゙ : out of character 𓈒 ୨୧ ⌇﹒— ( * admin ) .

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nsyncat · 1 month

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OK, so this is my first post EVER since I joined Tumblr like ten years ago. Always been a lurker, enjoying all of the wonderful things here, the gifs, fics, ships, art, all the knowledge and all the amazing heritage posts, but never posting and hardly reblogging, I don't know why, was always afraid I would make a mistake or reblogg incorrectly...

Anyway, the reason this is my first time posting is because THAT amazing moment that happened a week ago, and I've been losing my mind ever since, and unfortunately I have nobody to share this excitement with that will understand... So I had to get it out somehow, and here seems like the perfect place to do so.

I don't know if anybody will read this or pay it any attention, but never mind, I just have TO. GET. IT ALL. OUT!

So I've been a loyal fan of 9-1-1 this past six years, got hooked to these kind of first responders dramas, also Station 19 and then of course Lone Star. I fell in love with the writing, the drama and action, the characters of course, the emotional and moving stories, both of the regular cast and the people in the emergencies (am not afraid to admit that I cried more than a few times, especially when I was pregnant... woooh, that was a tough season for me).

Anyway, like everyone else, got invested in Buck's storyline and of course hopped on the Buddie train in season 2. And obviously there was something between them, and the fandom always clowned themselves that "in the next season SOMETHING is going to happen!" and I always wanted to believe it, and also fooled myself a few times but always was the cold harsh realist and realised it was not going to happen... But enjoyed the ride nonetheless, read amazing fics, saw wonderful fanart, read interesting breakdowns and analysis.

And then 704 happened and I'm not joking or exaggerating, my life changed!

Confirming that Buck is Bi was amazing! I'm ashamed to admit that I really thought it won't happen, EVER! So I still can't believe it actually happened (thank you soooo much ABC!) and like a lot of you, I've been on cloud nine this past week and can't wait for tomorrows episode (also not from the US), literally counting down the hours.

And look, I love Buddie, I really do, but I fell in love with TEVAN (my favourite one yet) 😍 and been OBSESSED with them this past week. Just from those few moments between them and what we barely know that is going to happen the next episode, I truly fell in love with them and really hope they make it as far as they can. I think its an amazing thing for Buck and also CANT. STOP. WATCHING THE KISS! The actors did an incredible job, especially Oliver, also with his spoken support of the storyline and his love for Buck. Such a KING! So this whole thing is huge.

And I have a one-year-old, my life is hectic with taking care of a little human being, a hubby who is also very busy, work, family and a million other things and this past year with a heavy heart I kinda neglected reading fics, and it was my main hobby, my escape, my one and constant thing in my LIFE since I was 12. I do read here and there, but not like I used to, reading hours and hours and into the night, multi chapters and long oneshots, in multiple fandoms, and now whenever I do get to read something once In a blue moon I'm not fully invested or enjoying it because either I'm tired or have something else more important to do. And unfortunately, eventually I noticed that I lost this fire, the passion in me and it left me sad and heartbroken...

And then something incredible happened. Ever since that earth-shattering kiss, the fire and passion came back! Holy shit! I've been reading and ENJOYING fics nonstop this whole week, I can't concentrate on work thinking about everything and reading in-between tasks, I use every single free minute I have to search new fics and scroll through the tags, I go to sleep late because I need to read just one more fic(!!!) even tough I have to wake up very early in the morning and I DON'T EVEN CARE. I'm thinking about it sooo much and imagining new scenarios in my head, and feeling giddy and happy, in a good mood a lot of the time, more optimistic, knowing I have a new and exciting place I can "escape" to, like I had in the past.

Its not that i'm not happy, I have an amazing son and a wonderful husband and I cherish every moment with them, but these are hard and difficult times and life can be hard and stressful and I'm a different kind of happy... So these past few days have been nourishment for my soul and my mood, it sounds so silly but its true! I'm feeling a bit like my old self and it's amazing.

And if someone did read this or did pay attention and got to this point, sorry for the long rant and thank you so much for the patience and understanding 🙏 I love you and wish you a wonderful weekend and happy Buck's-first-date-with-a-man day! 🥰

So I want to thank, from the bottom of my heart, ABC, Oliver, Lou and you crazy lot for resurrecting my old fangirl self 😌 I'm so grateful for all your posts, your takes, your similar enjoyment and of course your amazing fics you're writing and sharing 🩵

#911 abc #buck x tommy #evan buckley #tommy kinard #911 season 7 #personal #oliver stark #lou ferrigno jr #911 #tevan

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emjayewrites · 1 year

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Flashin’ Lights In A Midst of Darlin’ Nights (1/?)

A fated encounter in The City of Lights changed the lives of an actor and singer forever. And with those darlin’ nights comes even more delights.....

Synopsis: Will Poulter can count on his hands the amount of times he’s been rendered speechless, yet that was until he met singer-songwriter EmJaye. He soon finds himself speechless and dazzled every time he’s in her presence. For Mahalia-Joy, Will hooked her in with his quintessentially British banter. However, in this ruthless industry, a couple needs more to hold onto besides quick laughs and simple awe.

Pairings: Will Poulter x EmJaye (Mahalia-Joy Washington)

Warnings: cursing, adult content, mentions of drugs/alcohol. (Rated 18+)

Taglist: @vargskelegore, @pocfansmatter, @afro-hispwriter, @user0292, @unfriendlyblkhotti3, @sarcasticmrfox , @blackpearlbutterfly, @melancholymelanin, @mochachocolatteyaya, @goldentriostan, @multi-culti-girl @chaneajoyyy

A/N: I do not know Will or his family personally. This is solely fiction and any similarities are coincidental. EmJaye was previously mentioned in a Yahya fic, but her character arc is completely different/changed to fit this fic. I’m so excited to begin this! If interested/want to be tagged, please send me a DM. Enjoy the chapter.

Paris, France — Late June 2022

An upbeat French hip-hop song with a heavy bass echoed through the vast venue, simmering the cacophony of voices into a warm hum. With short, yet steady strides, EmJaye maneuvered through the horde of people until she found herself in the middle of the space.

Squinting, her eyes skimmed each placard and she immediately sat down once she found her seat. Sitting up straighter, she took a surreptitious glance at her phone before scanning the room.

Her doe-like eyes slowly swept their surroundings, stopping every so often for closer examination. Despite the sheer largeness of the space, to her, it had a lingering feeling of suffocation. The sun-filled room, with its show-stopping Baroque-styled windows and ornate furnishings, was filled to the brim with the who's who of the fashion and entertainment world.

Similar to EmJaye, the patrons were donned head-to-toe in various designs by Thom Browne. Although she’d coined herself as an extroverted introvert, the long-haul flight from New York to Paris placed her in the most dissatisfying jet lag. Her limbs were achy, her muscles tight, and her cheeks were swollen beyond relief from almost all of the common remedies.

She felt sluggish, annoyingly so, and regardless of her silent plea for a reprieve, she had to...

“Nice day, isn’t it?” an accented male voice pronounced, pulling EmJaye out of her inner thoughts unexpectedly and causing her to flinch. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you.”

A Brit, huh?

The thought disappeared as soon as it arrived in her head once their eyes connected. His blue eyes were filled with concern and EmJaye quickly alleviated his worry with a kind half-smile and a duosyllabic utterance.

“S’okay”.

Returning the gesture, he gave her a lopsided grin of his own; an expression of gratitude.

A comforting silence fell between them, giving EmJaye the chance to study him closely. His dirty blonde hair was styled in a messy, yet attractive pompadour and a smattering of freckles covered the bridge of his nose.

Her invasive thoughts protruded her concentration, reminding her of his saccharine albeit dangerous grin, which caused her eyes to travel lower, tacitly appreciating how his toned body filled his khaki suit.

“Have you been to Paris before?” he spoke without warning, again reeling her back to reality, his expressive eyebrows drawing close together in intrigue.

“Uh...yes,” replied EmJaye with a slow nod and wide grin, eyes twinkling perhaps from a delightful memory or the sheer illuminance of the fluorescent lights overhead. “It’s one of my favorite cities.”

And Will couldn’t help but become transfixed by her gorgeous face and throaty voice.

Despite her outward bravado, upon closer inspection, she released a softness that enthralled him as much as her beauty. He deduced that she was akin to an onion — guarded on the outside, but when the layers are peeled, true vulnerability is revealed.

Her eyes were almost as round as her face, making her look younger than she probably was. Soft natural makeup complemented her blemish-free mahogany skin, delicate facial structure, and lush lips. She wore her raven hair in a curly updo with tendrils falling sensually into her face, which tempted him like no other to reach out a hand to tuck the lock of hair behind her ear.

To his surprise, Will managed to control himself from doing such sinful things by smoothing down his pants.

“Same. Paris has some great food spots. Really amazing bakeries too, if you’re into that sort of thing. I’m Will, by the way.”

Nerves got the best of him, which wasn’t that surprising, yet the awkwardness of his laugh accompanied by the seductive sound of hers instantly made him feel a lot better.

“EmJaye,” she shared.

A light bulb went off in Will’s head. “Oh! You’re a singer!” he exclaimed, clapping his hands together in realization.

EmJaye’s forehead creased in confusion. His eagerness threw her off at first, yet she remained calm. “Yes. I tend to do that from time to time. And you?”

“Actor,” he said nonchalantly with a shrug.

EmJaye’s eyes squinted, her eyelids narrowing into thin slits as she tried to remember whether or not she saw his face on the big screen before. To be frank, if they weren’t on her list of favorite actors, which comprised mostly of Black and brown men and women then she probably never seen — rather paid attention to — him at all.

Until, suddenly, it hit her. “Hey, aren’t you that racist cop from Detroit?”

Will couldn’t help but let out a mirthless laugh at her statement as the color completely drained from his face.

“Uh...unfortunately yes. Kinda wish you remembered me from a different movie though.”

Mutual anguish clouded EmJaye’s features, and she placed a hand briefly on his knee, startling him. “Sorry,” she whispered, her apology undoubtedly spoken in double meaning.

“S’okay,” said Will, repeating her duosyllabic utterance from earlier, and pairing it with a pearly beam.

EmJaye let out a snort, much to her embarrassment, yet Will took it in stride.

“Is that the only movie you saw me in?” he wondered, his eyebrows furrowing in a combination of fear and worry. “Please don’t ruin my entire acting career by saying yes.”

EmJaye shook her head. “I mean, no...” Her answer sounded more like a question and Will inclined his head. “I don’t know, maybe?”

He covered his face with his hand, eyes gazing at her through the small spaces in between his fingers. “You’re killin’ me, girl,” groaned Will, flashing an attractive moue.

“For all intents and purposes, I am very picky about what I watch,” she countered. “And I’m sure you haven’t heard any of my songs.”

“Bullshit,” Will blatantly stated with a dramatic eye roll. “I know, for a fact,” he paused his tirade briefly to take out his iPhone from his suit jacket’s pocket, “that I have at least one of your songs on my Spotify playlist.”

“Oh, do you now?” she teased in an annoying high-pitched tone, earning a feigned shocked expression from Will. “Wanna make a bet?”

With eyes glimmering with mischief, Will’s wide, dopey smile could easily make the Cheshire Cat envious. “I’m intrigued. What’s your barter?”

“Dinner tonight,” she vocalized simply. “Loser pays for dinner tonight.”

Holy fuck, as if she couldn’t get any better. “At any place?” he questioned and EmJaye nodded, toying temptingly with a tendril of her hair. “Deal.”

His voice was gruff, practically a growl and it made her shiver in excitement.

Will extended a hand for her to shake and she took his hand, watching as her own disappeared into his much larger one. EmJaye felt an electric jolt at the contact, for which she quickly extricated her fingers to cut off the current.

She cleared her throat as she jerked her head in the direction of his phone. “Alright, let’s see.”

Will decided not to broach the subject, and he twiddled on his phone, leaning towards her to show her that he, in fact, had not one but two songs of hers on his Spotify playlist.

EmJaye let out a gasp. “You motherfucker.”

Throwing back his head, Will laughed as soon he heard her inhalation and shifted slightly to place his iPhone back in the safe constraints of his suit jacket's pocket.

"I told you," he added contemptuously once his laughter subsided.

EmJaye couldn't help but grimace at his boyishly handsome, yet annoying smug grin. Will was proud of himself, his wide chest puffed out as if he was a peacock.

She watched in a silent, borderline dissociative state for several beats as Will ran a hand through his hair, his mouth moving fast as he rambled absentmindedly about her music. EmJaye was so enraptured by Will's animated and attractive face that she was unable to pay attention to his rapid-fire questions.

"How do you learn to make beats and stuff? I always wondered how musicians do that," he queried, his eyebrows furrowing together in genuine pique interest.

And for what seems like the third time today, her bubble of random thoughts and distraction popped, eyes wide as she stared blankly at Will. "Huh?"

Will repeated his question, leaning forward to listen closely to her answer or perhaps to get closer to her. Whatever the reason may be, his long legs briefly brushed against hers, sending a tingle down her spine. He crossed his ankles in front of him and comfortably adjusted himself in his seat, his equally long arms now placed around the back of her chair.

For such a tall person, he was rather delicate; his movements were gentle and fluid, methodical in a way. EmJaye was pleased to discover that just as enraptured as she was in her thoughts, Will was just the same when speaking to someone — undoubtedly immersed with every fiber of his being.

"My father and uncles were in a band," revealed EmJaye as she fiddled with her necklace. Will's cerulean blue eyes glowed as if it was a quiet plea for her to continue. "My Uncle Jared mainly taught me about melodies and beats and all of that. He even sang background for some artists in the '80s and '90s."

At this, Will rested his chin on his palm. "Really? For whom?"

Shrugging, EmJaye let out a scoff. "You probably never heard of them. It was mainly R&B artists."

"I love R&B," he mused.

"Even '80s and '90s R&B?," EmJaye quipped, straightening in her seat. "Matter of fact, do you even have anything like that on your Spotify playlist?"

"I have a few." His pearly beam was back in full effect, eyes darkening again with mischief. Drawing nearer, he whispered: "I'm not that White."

That statement caught EmJaye off guard and she exploded in a fit of giggles. "Oh my goodness, Will!"

"What?" he says, holding up his palms in feigning innocence as he tried desperately to stifle his guffaws. Unsurprisingly, a couple of chuckles eventually escaped and they dissolved into a paroxysm of laughter, much to the chagrin of nearby patrons.

"You made it seem as if I had no idea what you're talking about," he finally added after their laughter faded. "So like TLC and Boyz II Men, right?"

"Yes!" piped Emjaye in relief. "New Edition? Jodeci?"

"Yup, yup," nodded Will.

"Yeah, that's my Uncle Jared. After that, he tried to settle into 'normal life'," she paused to dramatically add air quotes and an eye roll, "but the music industry was his life. He somehow found his way to working in A&R for a few record labels, touring around the country for the 'Next Big Thing'".

"And I'm guessing that he found you?" wondered Will.

"Yeah", she answered with a shaky breath. "Uncle Jared always knew that I could sing and enjoy music, but I wanted to become a writer. Music was something of a pipe dream, yet here I am."

Will noticed the subtle shift in her expression. Her face dulled, her shoulders sagging, her arms hugging herself protectively, and her foot began to tap the floor in a nervous fidget.

He knew those signs of anxiety all too well. Hell, in many instances, he mirrored EmJaye. In just a short amount of time of knowing her, he could easily deduce that they were cut from the same cloth.

Empathetically, sadness clouded his features and he placed a comforting hand on her knee. "Are you okay?"

Those simple three words echoed in EmJaye's mind. He was too polite and well-mannered; far from what she was accustomed to from the opposite sex. People rarely ask if she was doing okay anymore and yet this stranger had her on the verge of tears.

I'm such a wuss, she thought. I can barely keep it together.

She pursed her pouty lips. "I'm going to be. The price of fame just doesn't agree with me."

"I can relate," he told her sincerely, forehead creasing. "Pardon me for asking, but is this something that you truly wanted?"

"It is, but I hate what comes with it," EmJaye chuckled bitterly. "The stalking, the paparazzi, using aliases to order food or get hotel rooms because someone might leak it to TMZ. Don't get me wrong, I am grateful for the experience to perform with artists that I admire or collaborating with them and finally being recognized for all the blood, sweat, and tears I put into my work. I love my fans too, yet at times, I feel like I'm constantly on the go."

"I understand," said Will. "Do you have any breaks coming up? Maybe time to relax and decompress?"

Almost immediately, her face lit up, which made Will equally as happy. "I'm working on my second album, so I have about seven months of downtime. Well, it's not downtime, but I have more free reign. Not as many appearances either. It was kind of a blessing to win a Grammy this year; my team is too busy celebrating the success to worry about making sure I'm getting exposure."

"And congrats by the way," drawled Will, which earned him a perplexed stare from EmJaye. "The Grammy?"

Her daftness made her want to die right there on the spot. "Sorry about that," she said as she massaged her temples. "The jet lag is killing me. I literally got here about three hours ago. I'm a bit slow at the moment."

"No worries." Will shrugged it off effortlessly with a smirk. "I get like that too without my cup of coffee."

Unexpectedly, the lights dimmed and EmJaye jolted at the shock of it all. As if on cue, everyone became eerily silent, shifting their focus to the catwalk. An overhead spotlight turned on, centering on a lone model that stood at the beginning of the runway. A slow, rich rhythm began to play as the model made his way down the runway in succinct strides. Poker-faced with a clenched jaw, he stood still as the many cameramen flooded around the stage to take endless photos. The model remained stoic despite the camera flashes and EmJaye wondered how he could possibly stand there without blinking.

Surely, he must be blinded by the lights?

The fashion show carried on without a hitch. Throughout the show, she felt Will loom closer to her and he whispered every so often about which designs he liked best.

Her heart pounded like a drum each time his breath tickled the skin at the swell of her ear. The booming was incessant and furious, akin to a hummingbird's wings. His deep baritone triggered a primal reaction within her; she felt hot and as though she could combust at any moment.

EmJaye had no idea why she was feeling like this, but there was something about Will that made her feel like a lovestruck teenager. _______________________________________________

Paris Fashion Week always made EmJaye feel like she was herded cattle. Ushered from one show to the next, EmJaye could barely keep up with what was happening. Fortunately for her, today has been easy with just Thom Browne's show to attend, and once it was over, she made a haste exit, with Will in tow of course. As predicted, the evasive paparazzi waited outside, capturing picture after picture of herself and Will, ever the well-mannered gentleman, extended an arm and graciously escorted her down the flight of stairs. Without a doubt, the photos will be sold to the highest bidder, which was usually a salacious tabloid readying for their next click-bait rumor mill article.

"EmJaye! Will! Are you two dating or just friends?!" one shouted at them, making her suck her teeth.

"EmJaye, how does it feel to be dating Marvel's Golden Boy?" another heckled.

"Fucking vultures," she hissed under her breath as she hopped into her waiting black SUV. Will followed suit, thanking her chauffeur as he closed the door behind them.

The car sped off in the direction of her hotel and the ride was still at first, without a single utterance between them. That time allowed EmJaye to gather her bearings and literally let her hair down.

Will spotted her moving figure from his peripheral vision and his eyes darted over to her, watching as her hands raked through her naturally thick hair, her springy coils dancing against the soft skin of her clavicle. Mouth now slightly agape, he studied her with an unwavering focus; eyes glossing over in awe as the sun hit her brown skin in the most astounding, angelic manner known to man.

"Any ideas on where to go for dinner?"

He blinked slowly as he came out of his trance. "Um....yeah, I know this great Thai place near the Eiffel."

"Ooh," she moaned almost wantonly. "I love Thai. Is it Sawadee?"

"Yeah," chuckled Will, his eyes boring into her deeply as if he was looking directly at her soul. "Have you been there before?"

"A few times," admitted EmJaye. "The family that runs it are good people and the food is always top-notch."

Will, a self-professed foodie, nodded in agreement as she described her favorite restaurant meals. He noted that she was more at ease with both him and herself than at the fashion show. She was more secure, solvent, and knew what she wanted.

The car ventured closer to her hotel, and it was then that Will realized that he somehow found his way back to his hotel. Without warning, he averted his gaze to glance out the window to confirm his location.

"Huh, well that's convenient," he says as the car parked at the curb. Her pair of doe-like brown eyes fused with his tempting baby blues. "It seems as though I've found my way back to my hotel too."

EmJaye chuckled softly. "Bullshit. Don't tell me that we're staying in the same hotel?"

"Nah," Will responded as he shook his head. "I'm in the one across the street."

Utterly bewildered, EmJaye took the chance to stare out the window herself. Her eyes darted to her hotel first then across the street to take a look at Will's. "Interesting."

"I know," he said lowly. "I'll make a reservation at Sawadee and I'll meet you out here in about an hour and a half. Sounds good?"

"Yeah." Her lips parted in a warm smile. "It's a date." _______________________________________________

It's a date....it's a date....it's a date

Complemented by the rich timbre of her throaty voice, EmJaye's sensual smile could bring a man to his knees.

And my anxious, socially awkward arse is having a date with her? thought Will in complete disbelief.

Admittedly, he was at an unbelievable stage in his life. With landing a role in the Marvel Cinematic Universe and now being at the mercy of thirst tweets, suffice to say, Will was having some difficulty adjusting to the unwanted attention, especially since he was no longer being ridiculed for his looks. And now, here he was on the cusp of having a first date with one of the most sought-after R&B/Pop artists.

What the fuck was his life?

This will be the time when his close friend and fellow actor, Florence Pugh, would joke that he perhaps girl-bossed a bit too high, or whatever the male version may be. Or maybe he was just a lucky son of a bitch?

Will nodded at the latter option. He was wrapped up in his head, erratic thoughts plaguing his brain, so he started to pace the length of his hotel room. He could barely piece together the memory of entering his hotel, let alone leaving EmJaye's car, and he was surprised that he didn't knock anyone over in his haste. The last thing Will wanted was to act like a complete dipshit around her, and he silently gave himself a pat on the back for doing well thus far.

The question was, however: did he even want to be in a relationship?

Although none of his friends, especially the guys, would openly admit that they enjoy being single, Will had comfort in being left alone to his own devices. Of course, there was a lack of physical and emotional intimacy, yet as he slowly began to learn, there was nothing wrong with being alone. Now, as he approached being thirty years of age, his past relationships and countless sessions with his therapist had taught him to enjoy the little things in life, which has been a previously difficult thing to do. His mental struggles gnawed at him when he was younger, but he now feels refreshed and content in his being. Truth be told, some days are harder than others, which is expected, and Will continues to take it day by day.

Despite this, Will had a desire to get to know EmJaye better. She intrigued him and he found himself hanging onto her every word. Being in a relationship with her may still be out of range or maybe completely off the table, but there wasn't no harm in being just friends, right?

The shrill ringtone of his iPhone snapped him out of his reverie and therefore ceased his pacing. Taking it out, Will immediately accepted the call once he noticed that his best friend, Kola Bokinni, was ringing him.

"Wassup, mate? How's London?" Will greeted, yet Kola had other plans and ignored him.

"Yo, man, why you kept dating that EmJaye singer a secret?" queried Kola in jest.

"Kola, what the fuck are you talking about?" Will was clueless in regards to what his best friend was referring to. "I just met her today at the Thom Browne show."

"Oh," his friend exhaled in fascination. "How was that? Your fit looked sick, man."

Will couldn't help but chuckle at how easily Kola got distracted. "Thanks, mate, but what's all this about me dating EmJaye?"

Putting the call on speaker, Will sat on his hotel bed and tinkered with his phone, listening carefully as Kola vented about paparazzi and rumors.

"They're fuckin' loons, mate, I tell you," Kola complained, earning a mumble of agreement from Will, who was too focused on reserving a table for tonight's date instead of his friend. "Like bro, they out here talkin' about you smashin' her since last year, which is far from the truth."

Well, that got Will's attention. "Wait, what?" he scoffed, rolling his eyes in annoyance. "I met her today, like for the first time."

"I know!" Kola exclaimed. "They said that you liked a post on her Instagram and now you've been smashin' her for almost a year. The Daily Mail is wildin'."

Will stared blankly as he searched in his memory to determine if he liked a post of hers on Instagram. The only logical reason was last year's World Mental Health Day and that was because he followed those types of organizations and social media tags. He could remember it clearly now; EmJaye is an ambassador for a nonprofit that focuses on mental health and she was in a campaign for them. Since he doesn't follow that many people on social media, that had to be the instance The Daily Mail was referring to. As ridiculous as this conversation was, it brought up yet another thing he and EmJaye had in common: activism. His attraction to her was enhanced by knowing she was equally passionate about mental health advocacy as he was.

Blowing out an exasperated breath, Will shoved his hair back away from his face and studied his surroundings. When he caught a glance at the clock on the wall, he muttered a curse.

"You alright there?" asked Kola, his voice full of concern and worry.

"Yeah," replied Will quickly. "Coincidently, I have a date with EmJaye and I have about fifteen minutes to get ready to meet her. I have to call you back, mate, sorry."

"You sneaky fucker," teased his best friend, causing Will to laugh. "You scored a fuckin' date after just meeting the girl? Damn, new year new Will, yeah? Alright bro, I'll let you go but you have to promise to ring me once it's over, okay?"

Will's face scrunched up, his nose crinkled in astonishment. "What, Kola, so we can cackle and gossip like schoolgirls?"

"Fuck, yeah," Kola countered with a laugh. "I know you don't usually kiss and tell, but you have to this time. That girl is too bad for you to be a chickenshit and not make a move."

"Kola, you're thinking with your dick," he drawled in a joking manner.

"And you are too."

His best friend's rejoinder made Will's jaw drop and before he could say anything back, the line went dead.

That sonofabitch. Kola was truly something else.

Will jumped off his bed to make a beeline for the adjoining bathroom, removing articles of clothing as quickly as he could to take a quick shower. He scrubbed the afternoon's dirt off his body, submerging himself in as many soap suds as was humanly possible. Afterward, he rinsed himself and repeated the process once more before exiting the shower with a towel haphazardly wrapped around his waist. He was grateful that his assistant unpacked most of his belongings earlier that morning and he found an outfit to wear, which consisted of a black T-shirt with matching ripped jeans and a pair of Nike x Travis Scott's Air Max.

Dousing himself with deodorant and Jo Malone cologne, Will took yet another glance at the clock and exhaled a held breath. With five minutes to spare, he grabbed his essentials — keycard, phone, and wallet — before heading downstairs to meet EmJaye.

Will became transfixed by the goddess that stood across the street. Her shoulder-length curly hair held tight corkscrews that framed her round face. With mahogany skin that shimmered beneath the hotel awning's lights, EmJaye wore a yellow mini-dress that boded quite well with her womanly assets.

Her back was to him and when he called out to her, she turned to his direction with yet another one of those sensual smiles.

"Hi, Will," greeted EmJaye in that sexy throaty voice of hers.

He glanced at her with such profound fondness and awe. He was speechless in every aspect one could think of. His mouth fell open, causing her to bite her lower lip nervously.

"Holy shit, you look amazing," Will admired, completely stunned.

"Thanks." She shifted from one foot to the other, swinging her bag to and fro. It was another of her many nervous ticks and Will took notice, offering her a comforting arm.

"You ready to go?" he asks in a low baritone that made her entire being ache in anticipation and need.

She took his arm graciously, clinging on as if it was her lifeline. "Yes."

His mouth twisted into a lopsided grin. "Let's head to dinner then."

Draping the city in a casting white glow, the crescent moon illuminated the sky overhead, giving the couple the perfect backdrop as they meandered down the busy Parisian streets to the restaurant close by.

As they walked, a few male onlookers slowed their pace to take furtive glances at EmJaye's long legs, and at that moment, a twinge of pride and protectiveness overtook Will.

Yes, he thought snidely as he glowered at them, she's all mine.

That revelation made him a tad bothered; just an hour ago he was very keen on being strictly platonic.

So much for only being friends.

TO BE CONTINUED...

#will poulter #will poulter x black!ofc #will poulter x black character #will poulter x singer #will poulter fanfiction #Flashin’ Lights In A Midst of Darlin’ Nights #emjayewrites #guardianofthegalaxy3 #adam warlock #will poulter x reader #adam warlock x reader #will poulter imagine #gotg3

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theresattrpgforthat · 1 month

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Mint Plays Games: Household

March saw the beginning of a new multi-session series with my home group, and this time we're hopping through a number of different dimensions, using the Planedawn Orphans campaign toolkit. The basic premise is that the characters are hopping into the lives of people inside various worlds, looking for items or relics that they can use to build a brand-new world, a place where all of them can start over. Our first world visited was Household!

Household is a roleplaying game by Two Little Mice, about tiny fae folk going on big adventures in an old, abandoned house. Players choose from four different kinds of folk and five different Professions to determine their faerie gifts and their personal strengths. The game consists of rolling a number of d6s in the hopes of getting pairs, three of a kind, or, if you're lucky, four matching numbers.

We had two different investigations, one looking out for a missing noble's son, and the other trying to figure out where a missing prize bumblebee had gone. Household chosen to represent the "Air" element from the checklist in Planedawn Orphans, so we decided that the relic that made the most sense for this setting was "A Pair of Perfect Wings".

We had two different groups of adventurers, both of them given advice to blend in to whatever events were going on around them when they showed up in the other world. Since some of the players signed up for Household, but not the for the inter-dimensional travel, we decided that their characters would be permanent fixtures of the world, new friends and companions that the Orphans made along the way.

I find the setting for Household to be very charming, and the art certainly helps you visualize all of the different places and main characters. I think the set-up of the game is very good for folks who want a lot of help coming up with adventures, because Household is written as a history that has already happened; the events of the book will come to pass unless the player characters decide to do something about them.

The rules themselves are easy to learn, but this might be a downside for folks who like complex character builds with a lot of pieces that can be tweaked. Your character is pretty simple in Household, and while you'll improve as you gain experience, I don't see a lot of big changes happening over the course of play. Then again, we only played a couple of sessions, so I might be putting the cart before the horse.

Household absolutely delivers on the atmosphere it promises, but based on our limited run of it, I think the world outshines the rules. We're looking at playing another game in the same rule-system down the road, and I'm interested to see what changes have been made, and whether or not they give me more cool things to do. I'd be happy to revisit the House in the future, but I'd also love to run some other rules-systems inside the setting!

#tabletop games #indie ttrpgs #mint plays games #household

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questforgalas · 6 months

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Now that I've played the MW campaign and am even more unhinged about the MW3 campaign, here are my completely unasked for thoughts on how Activision should've mapped out the games for an at least 6 game story arc

Absolutely no changes. Kyle is a precious muffin. Price is a precious muffin. Alex is a precious muffin. Farah is a queen.

Interesting campaign. Diverse levels. Dynamic and well thought out storyline.

MW2

My baby. The love of my life. My most precious muffin. That campaign? That storyline? Chef's kiss. Ale and Rudy? The best additions. Valeria?? Fucking wonderful. That plot twist?? Grasping my pearls

No changes

MW3

More 141 levels, make the intro levels 141 as a well oiled machine, digging up the intel telling about the prison break. Give more background to what Farah is in the middle of instead of dropping right in especially with fucking Graves suddenly chilling on the comms, bridging that gap between MW2 and here. Take out a good chunk of the Makarov cut scenes and give more levels chasing intel, letting the player put together the pieces with every cold trail Makarov leaves behind, getting frustrated along with the team. Keep the flashback once the team reaches boiling point, but make Ghost less inclined towards Johnny to keep more inline with their reluctant start in MW2.

Shepherd and Graves go off the grid after they give their intel, they disappear. Makarov is making moves in Urzikstan so 141 goes to help ULF (did I mention more 141?). It was a distraction, they uncover Makarov's plans for London, scramble back, it plays out, Price ends up dead (it's a military game, people are going to die, and Price dying had the most potential impact. Come along, I'll explain), Makarov gets away.

Final cut scene is a funeral send off Price deserves, montage of the boys back on base dealing with the aftermath, and Laswell finding Ghost, explaining how he's the Lieutenant, he's the obvious next choice to take up the mantle and Ghost simply says "I'm not the obvious choice" and the final scene pans on Gaz, the Robin to Price's Batman.

The levels will be meatier, longer, and at least 5 more added to deepen the story. Diversity of the play style will be more than just standard campaign and online-layout. The Makarov plot will be discovered by the player, not told to them, adding more intrigue to the character. The final level will be multi tiered, hopping between the two pairs. Actually 8 hours of gameplay instead of the measly 3 they gave us (yes, the MW3 campaign is 3 hours of gameplay compared to MW and MW2s 8 hours each)

MW4

Open to 141 arriving on mission, Soap tapping Gaz on the shoulder and says "Ready when you are, Captain" with that cheeky smile. Makarov's gone dark, eerily quiet the past couple months, but they have a lead on Shepherd and Graves so they're going in. It all points back to Mexico, Graves accepting his military career is fucked after Las Almas and turning Shadow Company into full mercs instead of PMCs now, specializing in weapons dealings. He recognized the advantage a deal with Valeria could have and they've been working together.

CUT TO LOS VAQUEROS/141 REUNION. More Alejandro and Rudy background (just let Alain Mesa, the BAFTA Game Award Nominee for this freaking role, fucking shine). Dive into the Valeria background, make the raid mentioned during her interrogation a flashback level in Valeria's POV. The team has to go undercover to get close to the intel, Rudy gets picked, gathers the intel, but gets compromised. Now its a race to rescue Rudy. Ale and Gaz go after Rudy while Soap and Ghost follow the lead Rudy got them. Ale and Gaz raid a cartel base/prison, let Ale take Gaz under his wing recognizing the young captain's feeling the pressure, some banter, some advice, wholesome Ale and Gaz bonding.

Soap, on the other hand, is barely being contained by Ghost. He's in full attack dog mode with Graves scent nearby and Ghost has half a mind to let the demolition expert go completely feral, but the lieutenant part of him keeps his sergeant in check. Further their dynamic, more banter balancing right on the edge. They clear out the compound, find a gold mine of intel around the dealings, and Johnny gets to put the bullet right between Graves' eyes.

One line in the intel catches their eyes - Makarov

MW5/6

Make the Makrov storyline a 3 game storyline - MW3 intro and back-to-back MW 5 and 6. Now with ties in Mexico and ULF, all established teams and beloved characters can be brought in in some aspect throughout both games to take him down.

Ale and Rudy are cleaning up El Sin Nombre's ties in Las Almas, cutting each line of Valeria's arms dealings, trying to cut off the courier of Makarov's destruction.

Farah continues to lead ULF to free Urzikstan, Makarov taking advantage of the dissent and chaos and placing a foothold there, ultimately dividing forces and efforts from his background machinations.

With Makarov's trail warm again, the 141 are out for blood. Could take the plunge and make GhostSoap canon through subtle dialogue options or touch gestures in cut scenes. The end is possibly near, they're all allowing themselves to think about the future, why not take the plunge Activision? Or they stay vague/platonic and the dynamic is further developed. Dialogue options and cut scenes show further bond with Gaz as well who's stepped into being Captain a little more, easing into the shoes.

MW5 is cat and mouse. Makarov leaves little treats and traps and the team is chasing after their tails, always 3 steps behind him. Give Makarov more scenes, not telling the player his plan but let his character development fly. Let the unhingedness flourish.

Finally, they catch a break at the end of the game and MW6 is the final chase. 8 hours of them hunting down Makarov. Ale and Rudy cleaned up Las Almas and can join them, bringing the whole gang together internationally (bonus points to make one a cold weather mission and the two Mexicans are just bitching the whole time just for Soap and Ghost to tease them back about payback for having to deal with the Mexican desert for a whole week). Two characters would die (not in one game, over the course of the two) - Farah (she's been a fighter her whole life, it would be a full circle for her to heroically go out with a gun in her hand) and either Ghost or Soap.

Soap dying here would be so much more impactful. He'd be more established as a character, have deeper relationships with all members of the game, and it's highly possible to have a situation where a charge isn't going so he's the only one who can pull it off (reminiscent of Hevy in TCW). Going out in a blaze just like he's always imagined.

Ghost dying would be another full circle option with his canon (it would be a sacrificial choice, dying on his own terms as his own choice) and with his long career, it would be heartbreaking but understandable. This also leaves the 141 in the hands of the two youngest, the Captain and the new Lieutenant, tasked with bringing in the next generation of the best soldiers.

And if there just happens to be a cut scene where Johnny has an extra pair of dog tags and a modest ring dangling from his chain? Then you know I infiltrated the Activision writers' room.

Oh what happened to Shepherd you ask? End credits role on MW6 and another cut scene begins. A lone cabin in the middle of nowhere in the woods, smoke trailing out of the chimney. Cut interior, a haggard Shepherd bent over a desk, mumbling to himself, scribbling on something. He tacks the paper on the board in front of him, revealing Gaz and Soap's pictures amidst a mess of strings and maps and notes saying "Traitors". Then it cuts black

Boom, there you go Activision. Enjoy all of your awards and record breaking sales. It could've been that easy

#call of duty #john soap mactavish #simon ghost riley #captain john price #kyle gaz garrick #alejandro vargas #rodolfo parra #farah karim #alex keller #ghostsoap

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moonshynecybin · 3 months

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What will the joint rosquez birthday bash look like post reunion???

thinking about the things that make them happiest.... hmm... it is a multi-day affair. maybe an all-week affair. they have fuck you tax evasion money why limit ourselves. first part is a big ass teams-based karting day at the ranch (a la the 100km race) followed by a blowout party of distasteful proportions.... marc DOES get to team up with his brother here it is allowed. vale also teams up with luca they have a fun extended day of low-stakes homosocial competition surrounded by people they love thats like their favorite thing to do. they tie. somehow. and then they get absolutely CRUNK. theres a dancefloor marc nearly puts out someone's eye. THEN he gets drunk enough to get whorish and truly he is grinding on vale all night he is slut dropping it he is mouthing at his neck he is basically humping his thigh like the academy boys have to LEAVE bc its vale's house and his birthday its not like they can throw him out for low-key fucking on the dancefloor. they all have to stumble off to do side character in a fanfiction things you know the ones.

THENNNN rosquez fuck off to god's most expensive and intimate italian villa (NO possible paparazzi angles hereeee) to like. naked sunbath on rocks by the sea and eat truffles and drink $1000 bottles of wine. rich people shit. marc's bag is like 2 pairs of swim trunks and nothing else. wait. he also brings that la roche posay sunscreen he never misses a sponsorship opportunity. vale spends like two hours a night eating him out until marc hops on top to ride him and everybody is happyyyyyyyy

#callie speaks #motogp #asks #rosquez #two weeks too late im sorryyyyyyyy. sometimes i look at such lovely asks and my brain is EMPTY #still not entirely happy with this one i think i could have made it hornier. whatever use your mind palace

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ghoultrifle · 12 days

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mushy may day six !!!!

prompt: "you're blushing"

character: aurora/cumulus

word count: 700

summary: Rory being very cute but also very incapable of putting on her shoes

notes: the solution to the infantalisation of aeon is to infantalise aurora as well /hj

below the cut or on ao3 :))

She’s the definition of grace, hopping on the spot as she tries, to no avail, to get this goddamn shoe on her foot. Aurora pulls and twists all while nearly toppling over onto every available surface in the den, “Argh! Just. Go. On,” she cries, punctuated by the thud of her still-bare left foot against the floor.

With a hop, skip, and a jump she bounds into the kitchen, met by Swiss and Cumulus idly chatting, perched on the stools beneath the island counter. “Lus! Help me, please!” Aurora pleads, refusing to give up.

Cumulus giggles, the inexperienced ghoulette shuffling like a madman in her pursuit of… she’s not sure. “What are you doing, ‘rora?”

“Hnnf- Saw Aeon could put his shoes on standing up and couldn’t let him win,” she explains. The ghouls at the counter shoot her a confused stare, “You know, the bets?” Aurora is only met with more puzzled looks. “Whoever can master fifty human things first wins?” Swiss and Cumulus look at each other before Swiss pipes up.

“And you decided putting on shoes while standing upright is a trait so human that you’re having a competition over it?” He questions.

“Well, it’s not just that! We’ve also done throwing laundry in the hamper, making small talk, carrying the most amount of drinks without spilling them, loads of stuff!”

“Don’t forget chugging the drinks too!” A distant voice calls out.

“Hi, Ae,” Cumulus shouts back before turning her attention back to Aurora. “So this is serious stuff, huh?” Aurora nods. “Well, I don’t know about you, Swiss, but I wouldn’t want to interfere with such a strict competition,” she says playfully but with a hint of sarcasm. Swiss nods his head in agreement.

So the multi ghoulette continues in her struggle, bending, stretching, at one point it looks like she’s doing the hokey cokey. “Really?! No help at all?” The others can only smile as they shake their heads. “Ugh, fine, I’m leaving.”

It would be a more poignant bite if she were able to actually direct herself out of the room, instead Aurora is stuck going in circles in an attempt to regain her balance. “Need a hand, sweetheart?” Cumulus jokes. That’s the push Aurora needs to steady herself and return to Aeon, foot still sitting halfway in the shoe.

“I don’t remember us doing anything like that when we were new summons, do you?” Cumulus asks.

“You’re blushing, Lus” Swiss grins.

“What? No?!” She says, flustered. “That’s not what I was talking about anyway. We were nev-”

“You have a crush on the new summon!” He says in a sing-song tone. “Look at you, you’ve gone all red and embarrassed, textbook crush behaviour!”

Cumulus only blushes harder, maybe she does have a thing for Aurora. The younger ghoul is just so playful and energetic; sometimes a bit of a loser but in the most endearing way; she’s sweet as a button but fierce too and- yeah Cumulus is fucked. “Okay, maybe yeah, but what about it? You’re practically welded to Aeon!”

“At least I own it, Lus,” he smiles, nudging her. “You should too.”

Aurora flies back into the kitchen, nearly sliding across the tile straight to the sink. She gathers herself and stands proudly, “Did it!”

“I can see, rorabug, well done!” Cumulus replies, sweetly.

“Uh huh! I’m on thirty eight now,” she grins excitedly. Cumulus has no idea why she’s so charmed by Aurora but she’s not complaining. She gathers some confidence before inviting Aurora over to where she’s sat. The younger ghoul is at the perfect height for Cumulus to place a delicate kiss on her cheek. It’s not much but she’s proud of herself.

“Oh, um, thanks Lus!” She smiles nervously, turning to leave the room.

After a gentle prod in the ribs from Aeon, that means she likes you too, Rory, do it back! She turns her body towards Cumulus and with an assertive stride she gives her a peck on the lips, “Join us?” She asks. Before waiting for an answer she runs away, giggling with Aeon. Those left in the kitchen can hear hushed whispers of celebrations and congratulations at their newfound knowledge of each other’s appreciation.

Swiss shrugs and puts his hands in the air, “I’m not stopping you, go get her!”

#trifle writes #the band ghost #the band ghost fanfictoin #mushy may 2024 #nameless ghouls #aurora ghoulette #cumulus ghoulette

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bitchin-beskar · 1 year

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The Roommate Agreement - Chapter 1

Rating: Mature

Pairing: College!Athlete!Roommate!Paz Vizsla x Fem!Reader (Bunny)

Warnings: Ok, so this chapter has no smut, as we're setting up the story here. However, this is the first chapter in a multi chapter story in which the MAIN THEME is free use, so there will be a LOT of smut. If you're not 18+, dnr/dni. REMINDER: IF YOU DO NOT KNOW WHAT FREE USE MEANS, YOU'RE TOO YOUNG TO BE READING THIS FIC. LEAVE AT ONCE. I will say, for this chapter, we do have a male character (not paz) physically abusing the reader, although it is very brief, it could potentially be triggering. Please be aware of this when reading. Other than that, this chapter is relatively tame, but it will ramp up soon.

Word Count: 4.5k

A/N: Oof, ok so I've been meaning to get this posted for awhile, but I've decided to share it tonight especially because I feel like we all deserve a treat after the latest Mandalorian episode drop. So this is for @maybege, @catsnkooks, @tailorvizsla, and anyone else who was personally victimized by the choices made by Filoni and Favreau in the latest episode of the Mandalorian. Have some lovely hurt/comfort and fluff babes, I hope this helps ❤️

You stare down at your phone, more than a little frustrated. Parjai had said he didn’t have any plans other than gaming with some friends online, so there should be no reason for not picking up the phone. But after over ten increasingly urgent text messages and numerous unanswered phone calls and voicemails over the last hour, you have to conceed that he just isn’t going to answer. You look around the party despondently.

Honestly, you hadn’t even really wanted to come, but Mir’a had drug you out, saying that you needed a night out to loosen up a bit. Then she’d gone off and gotten massively drunk, and ended up going home with her on-again-off-again partner, so you were now stuck at a party you didn’t want to be at, where you knew no one, you had no ride home, and your boyfriend wasn’t answering the phone.

Just as you were starting to debate the likelyhood of being able to catch a taxi or Uber this late at night, your phone buzz. You glanced at it, half expecting to see a sheepish text from Parjai, but instead lighting up your phone was a notification from Paz. A little unconscious smile crossed your lips, and you leaned back against the wall, bringing your phone up to see it better as you swiped at the screen to open up your text thread with him.

Instead of a message, he’d sent you a selfie, and you could tell from the photo that he was in his truck, likely just having left a late night practice with the Mudhorns–the hockey team he was the goalie for. His hair looked wet, like he’d just hopped out of the shower, and you could see an old Mythosaurs logo on his teeshirt, the team he’d grown up idolizing. He had an adorably crooked grin on his face, and it was easy to see how he managed to charm damn near everyone he met.

While you were looking at the selfie, a message from him popped up on your screen.

Hey, still awake?

You bit your lip, suddenly thoughtful. If you were remembering right, the hockey rink wasn’t too far from here. Maybe…

Before you could second guess yourself, you tapped on his profile picture and then his phone number, putting your phone up to your ear as you began to move through the throng of bodies towards the outside. The butterflies barely had time to take flight in your belly when Paz’s deep voice was coming through your phone’s speaker and directly into your ear, sending shivers down your spine.

“What’s this, a proof of life call?”

“Ha ha, very funny,” you said loudly, almost shouting to be heard over the music. “I actually was wondering if you could do me a huuuuuge favor?”

“Is that favor rescuing you from the angry mob you sound like you’ve accidentally joined?”

Your voice was drier than the deserts of Tatooine. “Truly Paz, you’ve missed your calling as a comedian by joining the hockey team. You should be doing stand-up.”

His loud, deep laugh sounded on the other end, and you couldn’t help but smile again. Gods, you’d missed his laugh. You’d missed him.

“I belong on that rink and we both know it.” You snorted at the cocky tone of his voice. “Nah, you know I’d do anything for you. What’cha need rabbit?”

You groaned. “Please, not that stupid nickname again. I had like… one stuffed animal as a kid and suddenly everyone calls me that.”

“You brought the damn thing in the bath with you, what did you think was gonna happen?”

You narrowed your eyes, wishing that somehow Paz could feel your glare through the phone. “Anyways,” you growled, ignoring his chuckles. “I was at a party except my ride left with someone else and now I’m stuck. Is there any way you could give me a ride back to my apartment?”

“Of course,” Paz responded with zero hesitation. “Gimme the address.” As you rattled off the address of the house party, Paz sighed through the phone. “I recognize it. Some of the di’kute freshmen on the team have gotten wasted at parties there and I’ve had to come get them. I’ll be there in five.”

“Thanks, Paz.”

You could almost hear his smile on the other end. “Of course.”

You finished weaving your way through the crowds of drunk, high, and horny college students to step out on the front porch, breathing in a wave of fresh air. The night was clear, and it was only the early days of fall, so it wasn’t too cold yet. You looked up at the stars for a few moments, before you heard the familiar roar of an engine.

Looking down the street, you saw the headlights of Paz’s truck illuminating the otherwise quiet road, and you began making your way down the drive. He pulled to a stop in front of the house, waiting for you to cross in front of the truck and climb in the passenger side. You pulled yourself up and into his truck, buckling in before turning to see him grinning goofily at you.

“What?” You asked, feeling somewhat self-conscious but your cheeks still warming pleasantly under his gaze. “Do I have something on my face?”

His grin softened, and he reached out, almost subconsciously, and brushed the pads of his fingers over your cheek. “Nah,” he said, eyes still boring into yours. “Jus’ missed you, that’s all. It’s been awhile.”

You smiled back, soft too but a little self-deprecating. The both of you were well aware of just why it had been so long since you’d seen each other in person. Parjai was almost impossible to deal with whenever he simply heard Paz’s name, let alone if he knew you’d seen him or tried to hang out with him. It had seemed simpler at the time to distance yourself from Paz, something your parents and Parjai had encouraged, but now it just made you sad. At least he didn’t seem to hold it against you.

Paz sat back in his seat and re-started the engine, pulling away from the curb and beginning to drive down the darkened roads. You were a good few miles from your place with Parjai, and you couldn’t deny that you were excited to simply get to spend this little bit of time with him. The two of you sat in a comfortable silence for a few moments, before you opened your mouth, wanting to make the most of seeing him and actually talk to him.

“How’s the team doing?”

He lit up, his grin huge and unrestrained. It triggered a grin of your own, always so happy to see Paz get excited about the sport he loved.

“They’re good! Din’s finally getting situated in left defence. He’s been working really hard at it, he’s a damn good defender, he just had some trouble believing it. Tua and Kua are a good pair too, they both made starter positions this year.”

You thought for a second. “The Skirata twins, right?”

“Yeah, that’s them. They’re assholes, but good players.”

You racked your brain trying to think of the other players you knew about on the team. With it being a new school year, there were some faces you didn’t quite know yet. “What about the other goalie position? Is Kye’ma still the secondary?”

Paz guwaffed loudly. “No! He got himself removed from the team ‘cause his grades were slipping too much.”

You breathed a sigh of relief. Kye’ma Reau had been a vicious player, and while he was good at the sport, he was a little too bloodthirsty. He’d always been sore that Paz was the starting goalie and not him, and you were honestly starting to get a little worried about the possibility of him staging an “accident” for Paz, so you were glad he was no longer in the picture.

“Who replaced him?”

“Some freshman kid, Uliik Gedyc. Wouldn’t know it just by looking at him though. Kid’s built like a fucking tank.”

You snickered at the mental image. You remembered what Paz looked like as a freshman in college, and you wouldn’t exactly describe his physique at the time as ‘tank-like.’ Although, that wasn’t to say he hadn’t been fit. Paz had been fit since he’d discovered gyms around the same time as puberty, and the muscle mass only grew with every year.

Not that you’d noticed.

All too soon, you realized that you were turning onto your street. You slumped slightly in your seat, sad that your time with Paz was coming to an end. You resolved to try and fix that, and to attempt to spend more time with him. Granted it was senior year, and both of you were set to graduate, and he had the hockey team to think about too, but you were tired of shunning your best friend to keep your boyfriend happy.

As Paz pulled into the driveway of the place you shared with Parjai, you were surprised to see Parjai storming out the front door, his face twisted in fury. You quickly unbuckled and practically threw yourself out of the truck, not hearing Paz call after you, as you were worried something was wrong.

Before you could get any words out, Parjai reached you and gripped your arm tightly, causing you to cry out in shock and a little bit of pain.

“What the fuck are you doing with him?”

You blinked at the furious words being thrown in your face. “Him-you mean Paz? He gave me a ride home because you didn’t-”

“Don’t fucking blame me for you being a slut.” He growled, shaking you hard. “How many times do I have to fucking tell you? You’re not allowed to see him, not only is he a goddamn exile, but you’re mine, you hear me? I won’t be made a fool of by my girlfriend just whoring herself out to whoever fucking asks!”

You jerked away, ripping your arm from his grasp. You could smell the alcohol on his breath, and it turned your stomach, although not as much as the hateful words he spewed.

“I’m not fucking Paz, Parjai,” you said, not yelling but the anger still clear in your voice. “I’ve told you before, he’s just a friend. I’ve known him for years, there’s nothing wrong with me wanting to spend a little time with him! Besides, you weren’t answering! What was I supposed to do?”

“You fucking slut!”

Suddenly, blooming pain spread across your cheek, and you fell back in shock, your body colliding with the door of Paz’s truck and your head cracking against the glass from the force of what had been Parjai’s hand clocking you across the face.

You slowly raised a hand to your cheek, fingers shaking as they brushed the skin even as you winced from the pain. Tears filled your eyes and you turned your head back to look at your still-furious boyfriend. He was glaring hatefully at you, even though he was swaying on his feet, likely from the intoxication.

He opened his mouth, probably to spew more vitriol, when abruptly, faster than your brain was able to register, a fist shot out and punched Parjai square in the jaw, sending him sprawling to the ground.

You blinked dumbly at your boyfriend-no, ex-boyfriend now, like hell were you gonna stay with that asshole-lying prone on the lawn, groaning in pain. Your brain felt like it was swimming through molasses, unable to process events in real time. As you were trying to put together what exactly just happened, suddenly Paz was standing in front of you, cupping your face in his hands as frantic eyes roved over you.

You just stood there, watching as his mouth moved, but unable to hear anything over the rushing of blood in your ears. He let one hand fall to your shoulder while the other came up to gently prod at the swelling on your face of what was likely to be a nasty black eye. He shook your shoulder, his face growing more concerned when suddenly there was a popping noise and you could hear clearly again.

The abrupt silence startled you and you jumped slightly. Paz raised his hands quickly off your body, taking a half step back so he wasn’t right in your space, but your panicking mind decided that was the absolute worst possible outcome, so you lunged forward and wrapped your arms around his torso, burying your face in his chest. The tentative grasp of control that you’d had simply shattered, and you began to sob brokenly into the fabric of his sweatshirt.

Paz’s arms came up around you, one banding around your back while the other came up to cradle your head against his chest. You twisted your fingers in his sweatshirt, anchoring yourself to him as you only cried harder.

His chest rumbled underneath you, and you faintly registered that he was whispering soft words of endearment, trying his best to soothe you. You sniffled and burrowed deeper, almost like if you tried hard enough, you could climb inside his chest where it was safe and never leave.

You could feel his lips pressing against the top of your head, leaving gentle kisses in the breaks between his words. He held you like something precious, like something to be treasured, and you found yourself never wanting to leave his embrace.

Unfortunately, Paz seemed to have different plans. He slowly pulled you away from where you’d been buried in his sweatshirt, although he kept his arms secure around you. He tilted your head up with a crooked finger under your chin, his gaze suddenly very serious.

“You’re not staying here, sweetheart. Get in the truck. I’m gonna run in and grab you a few things, and then we’re leaving.”

You blinked up at him, lashes clumped together with tears. You were sure you likely looked a mess, but all you could focus on was Paz’s arm around you and his fingers brushing your jaw. He sighed softly, seemingly realizing that you were not in a good frame of mind to be doing any critical thinking. He opened up the passenger door and bodily lifted you up, ignoring your quiet squeak of surprise as he set you in the passenger seat.

“Get buckled, I’m just gonna grab some of your things. I’ll be right back, I promise.” He pressed a kiss to your forehead, before letting his own forehead gently touch yours in the sweetest mirshmure’cya you’d ever recieved, bringing new tears to your eyes. He stepped back and shut the door, before quickly stepping over Parjai and walking into the house. You buckled in a daze, still reeling from how quickly things had changed. One second you’d been happily chatting with Paz about his hockey team, the next your boyfriend was punching you in the face.

You pulled down the visor on the passenger side and flipped open the mirror, wincing at your reflection. Already there was the starting of some swelling around your eye, and you could tell it was going to bruise. It was throbbing and aching, and you poked at the skin cautiously, nose scrunching up at the uncomfortable sensation. You were going to end up with a black eye for sure.

You see Paz coming back out of the front door, a duffle bag you recognize from your closet in hand, stuffed full of whatever Paz had deemed important enough for him to grab. He deftly stepped over Parjai, who was still lying on the ground, rolling around in pain as he clutched at his jaw. Paz didn’t even spare him a glance, instead quickly making his way to the driver’s side of the truck. He jerked open the door and climbed in, reaching back to set the duffle down on the floor behind his seat.

He buckled, and looked over at you, his hands tightening on the steering wheel as he took in the darkening bruise over your eye and the dried tear tracks on your face. He looked like he wanted to reach out to touch you, but restrained himself.

“Are you buckled, sweetheart?” You simply nodded, the lump in your throat too large to speak around. “Good. Let’s go home.”

You didn’t say anything, but you could tell Paz wasn’t really looking for a response either. He backed out of the driveway, probably a little faster than he should’ve, but it was late at night and it wasn’t like it was likely for anyone to be out for him to run into.

As he drove down the dark streets, navigating towards his apartment by memory, you looked out the window, eyes not really focusing on any one thing as the scenery flew by. You felt almost like you were having an out of body experience, like your limbs were too heavy for you to move on your own. Truly, you were about one step away from a complete breakdown. You didn’t realize you were twisting your hands in your lap until one of Paz’s hands settled on top of both of yours, stilling the anxious movement. You looked over, to see him still focused on the road, but a worried frown decorating his face. Turning one of your hands over, you pressed your palm against Paz’s, linking your fingers together and letting his touch ground you.

It wasn’t a long drive to Paz’s place, and soon enough, he was pulling up in front of his building. He didn’t waste time, shutting off his truck and sliding his hand out of yours so he could hop out. You began to undo your buckle, but before you could open the door, Paz was already there, ready to help you out of the truck. The concerned look on his face broke something inside you, and you felt tears begin to fill your eyes again.

Paz didn’t hesitate to pull you out of the truck and into his arms, your duffel already slung over his shoulder so both of his arms were free to hold you. You clung to him clumsily, throwing your arms around his neck and wrapping your legs around his waist as one of his arms wrapped around your torso to hold you tightly against him. Burying your face in his neck, you let the tears fall, trusting Paz to get you inside safely.

He didn’t say anything as he carried you into his apartment, and you didn’t look up from the safety of his neck until he was setting you down on a soft mattress. You looked around, slightly dazed as you realized you were in his bedroom. You’d seen glimpses of the space through pictures he’d sent you, but you’d never actually been in his bedroom.

A careful hand on your jaw caught your attention, and Paz gently lifted your head, turning it from side to side as he studied the swelling and darkening skin around your eye. His thumb brushed your cheek as his eyes found yours. “Lemme go grab something for you to ice that shiner with, ok?” You nodded, watching as he left the bedroom, moving down to where you were pretty sure his kitchen was.

While he was gone, you took a moment to take in his bedroom, the one place that was purely, personally, Paz. There weren’t a whole lot of decorations, but you weren’t expecting there to be. Paz had always been rather minimalistic by nature. He had some trophies and framed awards from various hockey leagues and games he’d won, some assorted sports paraphernalia in the corner by his closet, a soft grey rug underneath the king-sized bed which was adorned with soft white sheets and a light grey duvet, two nightstands with matching lamps, and on the far wall was a collage of pictures. As you looked at them, you realized most of them were pictures of the two of you. Some were clearly from when you were kids, but some were obviously more recent, although you realized with a pang that none of the photos were more recent than four years ago, around when you’d started to distance yourself because of Parjai.

It hit you then just how much of an idiot you’d been. You’d wasted so much time with someone who clearly didn’t trust or love you in the same way you’d loved him, especially considering how he’d acted tonight. You hadn’t realized Parjai’s insecurities ran quite that deep, but looking back it was painfully clear just how much he’d hated Paz Vizsla.

You were pulled from your self-deprecating thoughts by Paz returning, an ice pack wrapped in a kitchen towel clutched tightly in one hand. His eyes met yours, and some of the tension he’d been carrying in his shoulders seemed to melt away as he reassured himself seeing that you were safe. He came forward to kneel at the side of the bed where you were perched. With gentle hands, he pressed the ice pack over the swelling on your face, his free hand coming up to cup your jaw as you tried to shy away from the sudden shock of cold.

“Gotta let the ice do it’s job, rabbit,” he murmured. “We’ve gotta get that swelling down.”

You winced, but nonetheless held still, letting Paz do his thing. Maker only knows how many, many bumps, bruises, broken bones and black eyes he’d suffered over the years, not just from hockey but his uncanny ability to always get into fights. You’d even helped him with some of the more painful injuries.

A comfortable silence settled over the two of you. Your eyes had fluttered shut, just basking in the soft attention and careful ministrations Paz was bestowing upon you. Paz kept one hand on the ice pack pressed gently over your eye, the other still cupping the side of your face, his thumb softly stroking your cheekbone. After awhile, Paz slowly took the ice pack away, and you opened your eyes to see him critically looking over your face. He seemed to be satisfied with the state of your face where Parjai had smacked you, and he sat back slightly on his heels.

“How does that feel, hmm?”

“Better.”

Silence descended again, but this time there was a tension floating in the air. It felt like Paz was just waiting for something to happen, but you didn’t know what he’d be waiting for. You were fine, absolutely fine. Sure, your partner of over three years had just assaulted you out of the blue, but honestly, you were-

“Rabbit?”

The sound of Paz’s voice, thick with worry and concern and love is what broke the dam. Your eyes filled with tears, and your breath hitched as you fought to not burst into sobs. You met Paz’s gaze, and you saw nothing but love and understanding.

“Oh, c’mere love,” he murmured, his hands gently tugging you off the bed and into his lap. That was the last straw, and you began to sob, deep and heartbroken sounds wrenching their way out of your throat as you clawed at his back, as though you could somehow pull him even closer to you. “That’s it, let it all out.”

“W-W-Why, Paz?” you cried, voice trembling as you tried to force the words out. “I-I loved him… w-why wou-would he–?” You couldn’t finish your sentence, your voice breaking as you sobbed harder. Paz’s arms were tight around you, holding you securely against his chest. His lips were pressed to your head, and the rumbling in his chest told you he was attempting to make soothing noises although you were unable to actually hear them over the sounds of your cries.

As your sobs began to slow you clutched tighter to Paz, suddenly afraid that he’d let you go now that you weren’t crying your eyes out. But to your great relief, he didn’t, merely sliding his arms more securely around you and pressing you closer against his chest.

“What am I gonna do?” You said, voice barely more than a whisper pressed against the fabric of his shirt. Even as you said the words, you didn’t really fully realize what they meant until they’d left your mouth. You pulled your head back to look at Paz with wide, teary eyes. “T-That’s my home, Paz, but he’s not gonna leave, I know he isn’t, and it’s not like my parents are gonna be any help cause they love him and are just gonna say I’m making this up for attention and-”

“Breathe.”

The order startled you out of the sprial you’d begun to descend into, and you locked eyes with Paz, mouth snapping shut at the commanding tone of his voice.

“I’ll tell you what you’re gonna do, rabbit. You’re gonna stay right here, with me. There’ll be a blizzard on Tatooine before I let you go back to that hut’uun di’kut. He doesn’t deserve you, and I refuse to let you delude yourself into thinking that any of the actions he took tonight are in any way acceptable.”

His stare was piercing, and you found yourself unable to look away, even as you listened to what he was saying. You opened your mouth, about to insist that you couldn’t just intrude on Paz and his home like that, but a finger pressed to your lips stopped you.

“Uh uh, I’m not finished.” Paz waited for you to acknowledge his words before he continued. “I’ve got more than enough space, and I don’t want him or your family trying to manipulate you into going back to him. You deserve better, so much better, than that.”

Tears began to fill your eyes, but for far different reasons this time. Paz wasn’t the kind of person to say things like this openly, not the type to blatantly lay his feelings out for all to see, but he was doing it for you.

“Y-You’ll really do that, Paz?” You asked, trying and mostly succeeding to prevent your voice from shaking. “You’ll let me stay?” Some emotion you didn’t recognize passed over his face, but it was quickly gone before you had a chance to analyze it.

“Course I will,” he said softly, voice quiet but no less steady. “You’ve always had a place with me, and you always will.”

Another tear trailed down your cheek. The words that escaped your mouth weren’t something you’d been intending to say, but that didn’t make them any less true.

“Love you, Paz.”

Paz’s eyelashes fluttered, his face going slack for a moment before he was able to focus on you again. “Oh, bunny,” he muttered, drawing you close again even as a shiver ran down your spine at the unexpected variation on his nickname foe you. He was tucking your face back into his neck as his hand stroked soothingly up and down his back. “My sweet bunny rabbit, I love you too. You’ll always have a place with me, no matter what.”

In that moment, in Paz’s arms on the floor of his guest bedroom, you knew things were gonna be alright.

#paz vizsla x reader #paz vizsla #college!athlete!roommate!paz #car!paz au #car!paz #reader #fem reader #reader's nickname is bunny #paz is a hockey player #chapter 1 #the roommate agreement #no smut yet #but there will be a lot #so 18+#the mandalorian #modern au #paz vizsla fucks

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