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rodolfoparras · 1 year

Text

Smoke Sprite

Pairing: Captain Price x Trans Male Reader

WC: ca 7k

Synopsis: Price teaches you how to smoke cigars among other things

Content warning: 18+, • MINORS DNI • dry humping • boot worship • boot grinding • verbal degradation • praise • alluded exhibitionism • Sub! Reader • Dom!Price • reference to afab anatomy (sparsely!) • power dynamics • age gap (no specific age stated but in my head it’s like 10 years between them) • no after care

Stand alone/ part of a series:

A/N: The usual disclaimer: English isn’t my first language so excuse any grammatically incorrect sentences, spelling mistakes, ooc, plot holes… heads up for long sentences as well, who needs proper structure anyway.

First time writing smut too bc at some point we ought to dive into this. Am I right or am I right? Also idk how to do accents, as a non native speaker I have a whole vocab that consist of American and British words and at some point something may sound whack but just rewrite it in your head and enjoy the fic hehe

Also don’t be fooled, you will actually learn about cigars here I did a deep dive for this

Few things were hard to come by when enlisted in the army. One of them being a good night's sleep. It was something you as well as many other soldiers battled with. You’d found that the best way to cope with it was to stay up til your mind was as exhausted as your body and one of the ways you’d make the time pass was by smoking.

That’s how you found yourself sitting on the window sill of the little kitchen provided on base, half way through your third cigarette, wishing your mind would let your body go to bed.

It wasn’t always bad being unable to sleep. Hours you spent awake (albeit against your will) were also sometimes hours you’d felt the most at peace.

Tonight felt like one of those nights and the peace washed over you in waves, so much so you finally felt like you were ready to head to bed.

Just as you’re about to follow through with that thought, a sudden noise at the door catches your attention.

You turn so quickly you almost drop the cigarette you’re smoking, ash falling over you with the motion.

It’s too dark to see the intruder’s face but you’re still able to see how he freezes in place and quickly raises his hand in defense.

“Relax sergeant” the tension leaves your body when you hear the intruder speak. You’d recognize that voice anywhere. It was after all one that was on your mind when you couldn’t sleep. “Didn't mean to scare you, was just gonna get something to drink” His voice sounds husky, he’d probably just woken up from his sleep.

You nod your head, as you go to sit down again, taking another drag of your cigarette as you observe the surprise guest.

His steps are sluggish, head almost dropping as he makes his way over to the fridge and you wonder to yourself if you should turn on some light so he doesn’t trip.

“Don’t know how you can smoke that shit” Price says, somehow managing to express his disdain through his sleep like daze.

You snort at his words before taking another drag of your cigarette, blowing out a cloud of smoke only to watch it disappear again.

“Look who’s talking” you say referring to the cigar that always seemed glued to his hand.

He opens the fridge, seemingly searching for his drink before he takes out a bottle of water. Soon after he makes his way over to the kitchen counter, across from where you’re sitting. The light from outside shines down on him and you can finally see him properly as he leans on the counter and takes a sip of his drink.

He’s dressed in some gray sweatpants and a matching tank top to go with it. It wasn’t an unusual sight per say. Many times he'd complain about running hot easily so he always dresses lightly when he sleeps. However that didn’t mean that you were unaffected by it.

“Seriously they taste like shit and smell bad too”he says before downing the rest of the water.

“I don’t smoke for the taste” you say as your eyes wander from his clothes up to his neck, taking notice of the dog tags on him and the way they’re glistening with the light shining down on them. Your gaze wanders further up, over to where his Adam's Apple lays and how it bobs every time he takes a sip of his drink, until your gaze finally lands on his face. His eyes are half lidded, lips parted and puffy and a flush coats his cheek. It’s clear that he’d just roll out of bed especially with how mussed his hair is. Despite that he looks good, really good actually.

“You should since these will take you out anyway” he says, bottle now discarded on the counter and hands tucked into his pockets.

“Teach me how to smoke cigars then” You say tossing your cigarette out the window before turning in your seat to face him properly.

Price raised an eyebrow at that.

“What? You can’t sleep, I can’t sleep, might as well do something useful here. Teach me how to smoke cigars”

The older man scratches at his beard in thought before seemingly making a decision. With a grunt he signs for you to move over and you do as he says. He sits down next to you, one foot propped on the window sill and the other hanging to the side of it.

Price digs his hand into his left pocket, pulls out a wooden box of something, pops it open before sliding it over to you.

“Take whichever you want, it doesn't matter. You’ll be prepping it anyway”

“Prepping?” You look at him like he’s grown three heads. It's a cigar after all, what is there to prep anyway?

He nudges his head, signaling for you to take one. When you do so, he takes one himself before he closes the box and pockets it again.

“It’s not like a cigarette. You don’t just shove it into your mouth and smoke it. All good things come with preparation and in moderation.”

“Are we still talking about cigars here “ you grin widely as you wiggle your eyebrows suggestively.

Price grunts at your words but doesn’t do much more as he goes into teacher mode.“First thing first, you want to know what you’re working with. That can break or make the experience”

You nod as you look down at the cigar in your hands. However, figuring out what you’re working with wasn’t as easy as it seemed. You’ve smoked for years but cigars were outside of your expertise.

Price must’ve seen the stupefied look on your face because he says “Don’t look at it like that, lad. It’s a cigar not a ticking time bomb“

“Sorry” you say, shifting in your seat as your free hand fiddles with some loose lint from the sweats you’re wearing.

“That’s alright. Let’s start with something familiar, yeah?” he mindlessly strokes his beard, brows furrowed in concentration as he tries to think of how to explain it.

“You lick your cigarettes right? How come you do that?” You’re momentarily stunned by the fact that he’s picked up on this. But his question hits you next and you can’t help but feel embarrassed when you confess.

“Force of habit I guess” you shrug, rubbing at your neck as your eyes wander from him to some random spot on the window sill.

Hey, you’re a smoker not a smoke connoisseur. You don’t know the ins and outs of nicotine.

He sighs heavily and drags his hand down his chin before he speaks “That’s alright.” he says before he goes to explain. “ It's a form of prepping, not really necessary for cigarettes but some smokers do it. However prepping is essentials for cigars”

He then goes on to raise his arm in the air, giving you a clear view of the cigar in his hand.

“First thing first you do a pinch test, it’s pretty simple really. You pinch it between your thumb and point finger. Do not roll it however. If it’s dry it’ll cause unnecessary friction which in turn will cause more tears in the leaf”

He starts to demonstrate the step. You try to focus but your eyes can’t help but wander all over his hands.

Despite the cigar being quite big, it looks something akin to a cigarette in his grip and although he’s got a rather delicate grip on the cigar you know just how rough he can be with his hands. You’ve seen it many times out on the field, and have even imagined what it would be like to be on the receiving end of the treatment. His hands always look so big and strong, dusted in chestnut hair and lined with thick blue veins. You can’t help but think of how pretty they look as he demonstrates the step.

“You still with me, lad?”

You lick your lips, mouth feeling dryer than any tobacco leaf. “Yeah “

“Now do so with yours. Remember just add some light pressure, it doesn’t need much more than that” he says, once again demonstrating the step. You start to feel a pressure in your chest as heats floods from your head down to your feet. You try to focus on his words but they only seem to add to the lightheadedness you’re feeling.

“You listening?” He asks, taking note of your dazed expression.

You only manage a hum in response to his question as you go to follow his instructions. “It shouldn’t crackle since they should be properly humidified anyway but it’s always good to know the basics yeah?” He says when you both notice there’s no crackling to be heard from the cigar in your hands.

“Now we cut it. I keep this baby on me at all times “ Price says before he pulls out a pocket knife.

“There's all types of fancy shit for cutting but the principle is to cut as little as possible rather than the opposite. You just kind of snip it off” he says as he places the knife at the tip and executes the move perfectly.

“Now you try,” he hands it over to you and you can’t help but feel quite confident in this part. The task didn’t seem complicated anyway. But as you go to cut it, it turns out to be much harder than it seemed. The cut is nothing like Price’s. If anything it’s jaggedy and has the tobacco leaves crackling at the tip.

“That’s alright, you can-“

Before he gets the chance to say anything else, you wrap your lips around the tip, allowing your spit to smoothen out any loose pieces.

“Oh- “ you look up at Price only to see him swallow hard.

“That’s a good lad” he says, voice sounding deeper when he speaks “was gonna say to not slobber it down in saliva but you seem to know your thing “

Your face feels hot when you go to respond.“Thanks”

It’s strange- this relationship you got with your captain. At first sight it might seem that you’re the one throwing flirty remarks around here. And he’s the one who acts unphased, or even annoyed at your flirting attempts. But matter of fact is he’s the one making suggestive remarks whether consciously or subconsciously and you’re the one phased by it. You wish you too could be as unphased as him because his recovering time for these types of situations is remarkable, really.

His voice is void of any previous emotion when he goes to speak again “Now to the last part, we light it”

And of course you try to keep with him.

“Never thought we’d get to it” you say, hoping and praying you seem just as unphased as he seems . But you can still feel your face burning and your voice slightly wobbling and the intense look he’s giving you isn’t helping you very much either.

“Hey you wanted me to teach you” Price reminds you with a pointed look.

“Go on please” you gesture dramatically before leaning back in your seat.

“The way you choose to light it will affect the taste. It’s all a matter of preference so to say “

“And how do you like yours to taste?” Your words come out more suggestive than intended and you can hear Price sucking in a sharp breath, head tilting and his eyes boring into yours when he says “I prefer to take my time with things, enjoy it thoroughly, make the most out of it if you know what I mean”

The mood feels different; stirring in a direction that has nothing to do with cigars and everything to do with something else, something-

“You’ll achieve that with a soft flame”

And it's quickly broken again.

Price fishes a box of matches out of his pocket, slides it open and takes a few of them before pocketing it again.

“Always use two matches but don’t be fooled, you can’t hurry the process this is just to ensure the cigar burns even. You with me?”

You nod - maybe a bit too eagerly to show him you’re listening, brows furrowed and lips puckered in concentration and if you’d be focused on someone else you’d see the ghost of a smile on Price’s face.

“You strike the matches and tilt them downwards, then rotate your cigar around the them “

“Like a marshmallow ” the words slip mindlessly out of your mouth and his eyes widen in surprise before he laughs.

You feel the tip of your ears go red but smile at what he says next “Fuckin’ hell, sure like a marshmallow “

Instead of saying something else that would result in making a bigger fool of yourself, you choose to do as he says.

You take two matches from him and attempt to strike them.

However it feels like the universe is on a mission to make you seem like the biggest fool because for some reason you can’t light up your match.

After your third failed attempt paired with some curses under your breath Price decides to offer you some help.

He leaves his place on the window sill, and leaves his cigar in the ashtray to stand behind you instead. But just as he does it, you manage to light them yourself. However for some reason he chooses not to go back to his seat.

“Like that,” you hear him before you see him, and smell his cologne behind the clouds of smoke.

You try to keep your focus as you slowly rotate the cigar in your hands

“Good lad you’re doing so good,” the words make you feel like a match ignited, burning from your head down to your toes.

“Is it done?” You don’t know what you’re asking about- the lessons or the torture he’s unknowingly putting you through.

“Ever heard of the word patience, kid?“ he chides and if it weren’t for your close proximity making you feel all funny you’d say something to him.

“Just one more round of matches and you’re good to go yeah?” His voice is gruff and breathy when he speaks, almost akin to the tone he uses when he gives commands on the field. You feel the wisps of hair from his beard brushing across your ear and the heat from the close proximity of your bodies. You chose to nod in response, opting to bite your tongue in fear of saying something you might regret later on.

Soon you find yourself with a lit cigar in your hands.

“There now to the last step” the heat quickly disappears as a gust of cold wind creeps onto your skin and you’re sure it’s not because of the open window but rather from the space between your bodies as he goes back to his own seat.

“The most important rule of smoking- if you’re to remember anything out of this- is to not inhale it but rather take a light drag. Your body and your lungs will be thankful for sparing them, see it as something you slosh around in your mouth rather than shove down your windpipe”

You raise a brow at his choice of words.

“I am not the best teacher, “ he shrugs before picking up his cigar again.

He puts it between his lips and takes a light drag of it and you can’t help but think that he looks attractive doing it.

You never thought smoking was attractive. You smoked to ease your nerves and couldn’t wrap your head around what would be so attractive about a little nicotine stick and the awful smell that came along with it. But looking at him now with his eyelids hanging low, head tilted to the side as he exhales the smoke, you finally understand why people thought so. Especially now, with his Adam’s apple on show, dog tags gleaming behind the clouds of smoke and his toned arms flexing every time he goes to take another drag of the cigar.

“You do the most work in the beginning until you see white smoke. That’s how you know it’s properly lit and you can actually start to enjoy it“ Price’s voice sounds stern when he speaks; like a knowledgeable teacher sharing information to his interested students. And you sure were interested: in more ways than one.

“Most work in the beginning huh?” You grin wolfishly at him.

“You pull a lot of jokes, kid “ he chuckles as he continuously spins the cigar in his hand.

Kid. Your nose scrunches at the word “Not a kid and who said it’s a joke?”

He doesn’t say anything. Instead he tilts his head and rubs his beard as if mulling over something before speaking again.

“You try now”

You nod your head as you attempt to focus on the task at hand. But it isn’t easy, your eyes flicker from his fingers, to his lips, to the way he sits leaned back in his seat with smoke surrounding him.

Before you know it you’re inhaling the cigar, doing the complete opposite of what he told you and within seconds you feel the smoke hitting you all at once; blurring your vision and sending you into a coughing fit.

“I told you not to inhale it” he tuts as he leans over to take the cigar from your hands before he goes to pat your back “damn shame you seemed so good at following directions, what happened?”

You try to speak but the burning sensation in your throat cuts you off. His hand is once again on your back rubbing up and down aimlessly before he suddenly gets up and you instinctively grab onto him “I’m just going to get something to drink” he says, repeating his words from before and you nod, allowing him to do so.

“Here” he says a moment later, pressing a cold water bottle against your cheek.

You flinch away from the cold sensation, but grab it anyway, downing more than half the bottle within seconds.

“Take it easy or you’ll choke again, boy”

Despite the advice you find yourself unable to slow down and you down the rest like a man parched.

He chuckles at your actions and grabs hold of your chin, turning your head to face him.

“That good?” He asks, eyes shining with both hints of worry and amusement.

You nod in response feeling heat creep up your neck and ears. The feeling intensifies when his thumb swipes across your bottom lip, wiping off any remaining liquid before he pops it in his mouth to lick it off of him.

“I - I can do better” you croak out, still trying to catch your breath.

“What’s that boy?”

You clear your throat and take a deep breath, braving yourself to speak “I meant what I said I can do it, let me try again”

His gaze shifts between your eyes and your lips, seemingly making a decision when he goes to speak.

“Alright, come here “ he says before he goes back to his seat on the window sill, cigar tucked back between his lips, and with smoke surrounding him. He looks delectable to say the least.

As if it were a reflex your body complies to his request, shuffling over to sit closer to him.

You can feel your knees brushing, smell the scent of his cologne mixing with the cloud of smoke, can even see each and every eyelash on his eye along with the gray hairs sprinkled across his chestnut beard.

You thought you couldn’t get any closer than this but suddenly he leans further in and your eyes go wide as you watch him. His hand goes to your head, strokes your hair, and brushes back any loose strands or flies aways before it glides across your cheeks, until finally stopping at your lips.

“Open up, now” he says, one hand under your chin and the other tapping his cigar against your lips.

“Lets try this again, yeah? You did so well, don't want the lesson to go to waste” You hum in response, parting your lips before wrapping them around the cigar. However you don’t take a drag. Instead you await his command.

“Remember gently, no need to put much effort into it, yeah?”

You nod as you put all your focus into doing as he says and finally you manage to take a proper drag of it, enough to taste it and enough to blow it out properly as well.

“Good lad. I knew you could do it “ the look of pride on his face along with his words goes straight to your head. Like the cat that got the cream, you think to yourself.

You go to take another drag of it and as you do he places his hand on the small of your back, soothingly rubbing up and down the length of it. You try to focus on the cigar rather than his touch because you fear that in itself will send you into a coughing fit. But it’s hard to stay focused on the cigar when his hand leaves the small of your back and makes its way up to your neck instead. You’re just about to blow out the smoke when his hand wraps around your neck and gently squeezes it.

You part your lips in surprise and as you do so smoke leaves your mouth, coming out in little circles that quickly dissipate in the air. Your eyes widen at your little trick and he just chuckles at your reaction, before releasing his grip completely and leaning back a bit.

“Little trick I learnt “ he says innocently, shrugging even before he clears his throat, eyes avoidant of your own but manages a thank you when you pass the cigar back to him.

A rather awkward silence falls over you two as you try to process what happened. Price’s hand around your neck- the shy reaction you got from it- the fact that he knew this trick in the first place. It all hangs in the air like clouds of smoke and puts your mind in daze. It’s hard to snap out of it but once you do you wonder if you should say something or move on to the next subject. Looking at him you can clearly see he’s embarrassed about it so you choose to spare him but you also choose to store this moment in your mind for when you’re in desperate need of a replay.

“Gotta give it to you, you were right about the taste. It’s pretty nice actually”

He inhales sharply at that, eyes falling to your lips as he goes to speak “Yeah? Why don’t you describe it to me? Last part of the lesson. Need you to name the flavors ” His hand is now at your thigh, fingertips mindlessly tracing circles onto it and you think it isn’t fair of him. He can clearly see the way your body is reacting to him- to his touches- to his words and he still expects you to function.

You must’ve taken too long to respond because Price’s hand squeezes your thigh in warning “Sergeant”

“Creamy- it tastes creamy sir “ you stumble over your words but still manage to get out a response.

He hums in response, hand tightening at your thigh before once again squeezing it to get your attention. “Anything else? Any specific flavor you can name. Go on, take another drag of it“ he says before passing the cigar back to you. For once you’re thankful that your body reacts so easily to his commands. Your head’s far too gone at this point to be able to give your body instructions.

You take another drag of the cigar, allowing the smoke to coat your tongue before exhaling it. There’s a rich sweetness accompanied with a certain bitterness dancing across your taste buds “Coffee tastes like coffee sir- maybe even hits of almond as well?” you say through batted lashes, eagerly awaiting his response.

“Correct. My favorite” he hums in approval.“You’re a quick learner,huh?” The phrase like the cat that got the cream rings through your head again but this time you couldn’t care less. This time you'd gladly accept it. You’d gladly be the cat and you’d gladly take all the cream especially if it was -

Price grabs you by the collar of your shirt and pulls you close. “You know what else is good to learn? “

You gasp at the sudden motion and instinctively grab onto him, one hand at his arm, the other barely holding onto the cigar. His voice is dangerously low and breathy and the way his hot breath washes over your neck raises goosebumps all over your body.

You can even feel the tell tale sign of his thick mustache brush up against your neck as he goes to say “subtlety, my boy”

There’s little to no space between your bodies. He’s so close to you that you can hear his gruff voice forming the words at the back of his throat, and feel how they vibrate against his chest as he speaks them. Yet you ache to be closer so you grip tighter onto him and press your body closer to his.

“You were fidgeting around in your seat and barely paying attention to what I was saying. I almost thought you were getting bored of the lesson but that can’t be right now can it? ”

It's no longer wisps of mustache hair brushing against your neck but rather a full beard trailing up to the spot behind your ear. And every time he goes to speak, it brushes relentlessly against the skin, leaving burn marks behind him.

“No- no sir. I’m very eager to learn” your mind’s starting to feel hazy, your breath’s quickening and you can’t help but tighten your grip on him, nails sinking into supple skin. You hear him wince but can’t bring yourself to care nor to loosen your grip.

There's a nagging voice at the back of your head telling you this is just a wet dream or even worse a hallucination as you lay bleeding out on a field. So to silence it you tighten your hold on him, hoping and praying you aren’t just imaging him.

However he seems very much real because his arm feels firm and flexes under your tight grip. Every time you go to take a breath you smell the scent of smoke and cologne that seem to follow him and all you can see is his broad back and the small curls at the back of his neck.

“Mm eager you say '' His accent is much thicker now, desire coating his tongue and slurring his words and his tone is playful like you’ve never heard it be before. All of a sudden you feel his fingers at the back of your head, fingers burrowing into the thick mane of hair before he pulls your head up to face him.

“I expect a response when I speak sergeant “ he says, tugging at your hair in warning.

You whimper at the sting, eyes batting up at him as you go to respond to him “Y- yes sir I’m very eager to learn”

Price looks at you with half lidded eyes and with an arrogant smile across his lips as he goes to cup your cheek. “I suppose someone so eager wouldn’t have any issues repeating the steps we learned today”

“No sir” you manage to spurt out a response as you lean into his touch.

“That’s a good boy” he says as his thumb caresses your cheek. “So good for me, yeah?” His voice almost sounds like the one he uses on the field when he goes to praise his team, except this one is just a bit lower, more breathier and wraps around endearments only meant for your ears.

“How about this,” he begins to say, hand slipping from your cheek, trailing down to your neck and landing on your shoulder. He takes his time to straighten the collar before he speaks again

“if you can tell me all the steps we went through today” he trails off once again as both of his hands slide down the length of your arms before finally stopping at your thighs where they rub soothing circles onto them. “I’ll reward you for it “

“Only if you want to, of course” he says, as he goes to take his hands off your thighs.

“Oh I want to ” you say hurriedly as you grab onto his hand to keep them in place.” A lot, actually” you add in a shaky tone feeling your face heat up at your own words.

His eyes flare with desire and he takes a sharp breath before he says “Sit back for me yeah? One leg on each side of the window, need you to sit comfortably for this okay?”

You do as he says, one foot on the desert ground and the other one on the wooden floor and you automatically lean back on the window frame to make yourself comfortable.

He on the other hand, has one boot clad foot propped on the window sill and the other one hanging to the side of, leaning back comfortably.

Your hands are trembling in your lap, fingers still gripping onto the cigar and you can see goosebumps rising on your bare skin but it’s not because of the cool metal pressing against it or because of the howling wind. It's rather something else and Price seems to know the very reason behind it because he says.

“You’re shaking my boy are you nervous about presenting?” He asks in a mocking tone, before he takes the cigar from you and puts it in between his lips. While you’re trembling in your seat he looks as relaxed as ever, leaned back against the wall, arms crossed and with an expectant smile on his lips.

“No-no sir” you respond as you squirm under his expecting gaze.

“Get on with it then” he says sharply and you spring into action.

“The first thing you do is prepare your cigar. That can make or break the experience… “ you trail off as you scramble your brain for what to say next. But your train of thoughts is quickly cut off by a sudden pressure on your left leg.

Price’s foot gently nudges your thigh and once again, as if it were a reflex, your body responds to him; legs spreading further apart, to make more room for him.

Suddenly, he starts tapping his foot impatiently, purposely grazing his boot clad foot against sensitive skin as he waits for you to recite the next step. Despite the sweats you’re wearing, you’re so worked up that every touch feels like he’s grazing bare skin.

“Go on. I didn’t tell you to stop” he warns as he puts a punishing pressure onto your thigh, harsh sole digging into soft skin and you wince at the impact before you speak.

“To check if your cigar is moist you use your thumb and point fingers and squeeze - squeeze it from top to bottom” the air is punched out of your lungs, your words breaking up as the boot moves from your thigh to instead rest directly atop of your dick.

You gasp, fingers grabbing onto the edges of the window sill as your hips buck to get more of the feeling “I’m sorry- I’m sorry sir” you say, feeling embarrassed at your body’s reaction.

However Price doesn’t acknowledge your action nor your words. Instead he decides to raise attention to something else.

“No underwear ?” He asks, taking notice of the wet patch forming on your gray sweats.

“No sir I sleep commando” Price curses under his breath and you feel the pressure increase in between your legs.

“ Of course you fuckin do” he hisses and presses down even harsher, making you jolt at the movement and you just know that the embarrassingly big patch is growing larger by the minute with the way Price grins down at the spot between your legs. And when you look down at yourself you don’t only see the large wet spot on your sweats but you also see soil covered footprints all over it. The mess in between your legs shouldn’t turn you on but the sheer sight of it makes you whimper and buck your hips.

“What’s the next step?”

You go to respond but end up choking on your words when you feel the fabric of your sweats slip between your folds and push directly up against your sensitive clit. He even goes to rock his foot side to side, boot continuously assaulting your sensitive numb.

“What’s gotten your little cock so excited you can’t even speak?”

You whimper at his words, eyes squeezing shut as you lose yourself in the pleasure. “You’re being mean sir”

“Mean?” he asks, voice dripping in faux concern but never once letting up on his torturous movements. “I’m just trying to reward you here. You want your reward, don’t you?”

You nod frantically as you buck your hips up at him. All of a sudden he ceases any and all movements and you snap your eyes open up to look at him.

He raises a brow at you with a wolfish grin on his lips. You blink up at him for a moment, before it clicks; he wants you to work for it.

You almost huff at the realization. Nonetheless you adjust in your seat, hands propping behind your back as you bend at your knees before you gently start to rock your hips: his boot once again hitting your sensitive clit.

“We - we cut it. Not too much though, just the tip” you manage to get out the words before you break off into moans. You don’t realize how loud you’re being until he shushes you. It’s only then you realize that someone else can see or even worse hear you two.

“What if- what if someone sees us sir?” You ask but never once letting up on your movements.

It takes a while for Price to respond, too entranced with the sight in front of him, leaned back in his seat, arms crossed and cigar between his lips. You can barely see his face from the smoke surrounding him but the way his chest is rising and falling at a rapid beat and the way the cigar is shaking in his grip you know he is enjoying your performance.

Truth be told you don’t even know if he heard you in the first place but when you go speak again he says “No one will see anything I promise” he says in reassurance.”Everyone’s fast asleep and if someone even tries to look or listen I’ll teach them to mind their own fuckin business. “

With that you turn your attention back to chasing your high, this time uncaring about who can see or hear as you lose yourself in the pleasure.

However your attention is brought back to him once again when he says “But maybe you’d like them to?” He says, voice sounding thick and gruff. You snap your head towards him only to see him glowering down at you with desire swirling in his blue irises and a playful smile at his lips.

You know he’s just entering the thought of it, he wouldn’t do anything you weren’t comfortable with. And you can see his gaze switching from your face to your body to gauge your reaction. And he must see the positive reaction your body gives because he continues “you’d like for them to see how pretty you look all worked up for me? Maybe even jerk themselves off to you? Can't blame them if they did. You look too good like this” you can only moan in response as he continues to talk “maybe you’d even want them to join us. One cock isn’t enough for you. A slut like you needs to get all your holes stuffed to be happy isn’t that right?”

Your pace increases at his words as you lose yourself to the pleasure. But you’re quickly brought back to the present when he says “What’s the next step sergeant?“

You blink back the haze, as you try to scramble your brain for what to say next.

“Next you light it - you need two” at this point you’re just spurting out nonesene, too busy chasing your pleasure.

Although his boot does hit your clit, many times - due to your fast paced beat- it’ll miss, aim too clumsy and messy to reach it. It doesn’t take long for you to make the decision to latch one hand onto his leg, the other making sure to support your weight as you adjust his foot so that the tip of his boot hits your clit every time you rock against it.

You know you’re putting on a show for anyone who might hear or see; legs spread wide apart, arousal and mud covering your sweats as you desperately cling onto Price’s leg and moaning desperately. However you can’t find it in yourself to care, can’t focus on anything other than the pleasure coiling between your legs.

You look up at Price through half lidded eyes and mouth agape only to see a similar expression on his face.

“Jesus, look at you grinding on me like a bitch in heat, you enjoying this hm?”

“Yes yes sir, enjoy it so much” At this point you're slurring your words, mouth agape and eyes squeezed shut as you focus on nothing else but the heat growing in your core.

Your heels dig further into the floor, knees cramping from the awkward position and arms aching from supporting your weight for so long. But you refuse to let up on your pace. You’re so close to the finish line you can almost taste it.

“Almost there” you warn him before your mind’s too far gone to say something.

“Then you better explain the last step or there will be none of it, sergeant “ he says as he squeezes your thigh in warning.

“Yes sir” you groan out before you will yourself to speak again “you puff it - you do the most work in the beginning until-“ you don’t get to finish your sentence before you’re cut off by your own moan.

“until what sergeant?” Is the last thing you hear before you lose focus of your surroundings, eyes squeezed shut and mouth agape as you chase your high on Price’s boot.

“Until - until - it starts working by-. “ is all you manage to get out before you’re cumming- stumbling over the finish line with your back arched and with a cry of victory.

You don’t even get to warn him before you’re falling back in your seat, arms giving out and legs losing their footing. As you do so the boot accidentally rubs against your clit and for the first time since you ended up in this situation you jerk back from the friction, dick too sensitive.

You end up leaning against your elbow, window frame uncomfortably pressed against your spine and Price’s hands on your thighs keeping you from falling straight to the ground.

“You alright?” Price asks after a moment of silence and you feel his hand on your thigh again, rubbing soothing circles on them.

You hum in response, still lost in bliss and he chuckles as he gives you a moment to come down from it.

Once you do, you flutter your eyes open and smile lazily at him.

“Good job my boy, you did so well”

“Thank you, sir” your face burns as you respond. him and the phrase like the cat that got the cream rings through your head once again.

Suddenly you see Price’s brows furrow, tongue poking past his lips as he looks down at his feet.

“Looks like you left a stain there” he says as nonchalantly as possible and points to his soiled boot “could you clean it up for me please?”

Your eyes flash in surprise and for a moment the words hang in the air.

But as quickly as they came, the words dissipate leaving a haze behind that seems to take over your brain.

“Of - of course, sir “ you say as you scurry out of your seat but before you can get any further he stops you with his foot, firmly pressing it against your chest “with your tongue sergeant “

You suck in a breath and you can feel your dick twitch in your soiled sweats.

“Yes sir”

You lean in so that you’re face to face with the boot he’s wearing. It’s a simple black boot, worn out from everything it’s been through but there’s one spot on top of it that shines like it’s been newly polished. It’s the very same spot you zoom in on, tongue poking past your lips as you trace a path from the very bottom up to the top of it.

You feel the soft leather scrape against your tongue as the familiar taste dances across your tastebuds. And every time you go to lick the boot your nose brushes against the leather and you smell yourself on it. Despite the work you put into cleaning it you know you’ve ruined the spot with your arousal and instead of feeling bad about it you can’t help but moan at the fact that he can’t hide the evidence of the event that had transpired. You give it one last lick before you kiss the boot and smile at him.

He curses under his breath, a mix of swear words accompanied with your name leaving his lips and your grin widens as you sit up again.

“Enjoy the rest of your night, kid” he says all of sudden, patting your thigh lightly before jumping to his feet. “When you’re ready to put out the cigar, just let it rest on the ashtray, it’ll put itself out that way” he says as he shows how to do it with his very own cigar before making his way over to the door.

Within seconds you’re up on your feet, moving on wobbly legs you almost fall back on the window sill.

“Hey, where are you going?”

“Lesson’s over” he says simply before looking down at the watch on his wrist “and I’m old and need my rest. “ He looks away from his watch to the mess between your legs.

“Besides, you need to get cleaned up. See you tomorrow, kid” he says with a wink as he leaves.

“See you tomorrow” you say into the now empty room, chuckling in disbelief as you plop yourself back down on the window sill. You’re a sticky mess and should probably go shower but instead you take a drag of your cigar before you say “This man’s truly something else”

#captain john price #john price #captain john price x reader #John price x reader #captain John price x male reader #cod #cod x Reader #cod x male Reader #Alec writes #idc if there are any mistakes I’ve been editing this for so long I’m so tired of it fjdjfjfjf #anyway

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yukasyukasyukasyukas · 10 days

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Drew Tanaka headcanons bc I'm going insane over them

She's from Hokkaido in Japan

Her full name is Sayuri Tanaka, Drew is merely the name she chose when moving from Japan to the US bc the Americans couldn't pronounce Sayuri right and it got on her nerves, later it irritated her that she couldn't get her chosen name pronunciation right

She's ainu and bc of it she'd get bullied in school in Japan

Her dad (like Piper's) moved from the more indigenous area to a more urban but still made sure Drew knew and appreciated her heritage

He made knives and blades in general, once he made a katana and she was so obsessed with it

Moved to the US for financial reasons rather than demigod reasons

She got on a fancy private school with athlete scholarship for having two gold medals in kendo

Spoke a very poor English and that made it hard for her to make friends besides one boy in her class who God knows why spoke japanese: Connor Stoll, and consequentially his brother, Travis

Aroace spectrum, probably a lesboromantic

Her satyr took her and the siblings Stoll to the camp when she was 11

When she arrived the camp she was reluctant to befriend anyone, specially because, since she had just immigrated, she was afraid people would find her weird

She was the kind of child of Aphrodite who might look like a kid of a god of beauty but has the personality of a child of a god of war: Aphrodite Areia. She'd come after anyone who messed with her and has a really bad temper, sometimes even compared to Clarisse

After Silena's betrayed she was deeply hurt since she admired Silena so much, that's why she was so bitter to everyone after the war

Despite being hurt from her sister's betrayal she still tried to be a good conselour and sister, making sure the younger campers, specially Lacy, were okay and trying to lighten the grief

Drew was never on a good financial position, mainly because her father's job didn't have much clientele, so she started working at fast food restaurants when she was a teenager

Despite being poor, she always tried to look good, it was her way of coping from all the bad stuff she went through. Because of it she learned how to sew.

She disliked Piper not because she reminded her of Silena but because, at first sight, Piper reminded her of herself, but without most shit she had to go through. Piper was also indigenous, at a fist look she seemed poor, she was a demigodess etc. But she didn't go to the war, she hadn't had her friends die all at once, she didn't meet Silena.

After Drew found out who was Piper's father she only got more pissed; that girl, who had everything she always wanted, who never had to sleep wondering if on the next day she would still have a house to live in, who never had to worry how her father would be without her on his side to SPEAK for him because he didn't know English. Yet she romanticized all that Drew hated in her own life.

After Mitchell cleared up what was going on between the two to the other, Piper and Drew started getting along, but Drew never really got over Piper's style choice, not because it wasn't pretty but because that looked close to what she wore when she was on her worst financially when Piper could afford any kind of luxury brand

Idk I just really love the idea of her being ainu

#drew tanaka #headcanon #percy jackon and the olympians #pjo #pjo hoo toa #cabin 10 #aphrodite #piper mclean

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agaypanic · 4 months

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Oh my god you’re doing TEOTFW I love it . I have a request for James and it’s literally as simple as I the reader and James getting stuck in a lift together. James thinks it’s the perfect chance to kill someone but the reader starts to get too optimistic as a coping mechanism for being trapped and he doesn’t know what to do about it

A Psychopath and a Chatterbox (James X Reader)

Masterlist

Request Something!

Summary: After a long night in the library, you catch a lift back down to the first floor until it stops suddenly. The boy stuck with you is thinking about how this is the perfect chance to kill you, until you start to chatter away.

A/N: reader wants to be a vet and likes cats. obvious warning for talks of murder, and also some mentions of killing animals. im american so idk shit about european school systems. Reader and james are in uni (i think that’s the european version of college), so lets pretend that the events of teotfw didn’t happen so james still has his murderous tendencies

***

With finals quickly approaching, you’ve spent the last week studying in the campus library. You’ve probably spent more time in the library now than you had all semester.

You had been deep in a textbook when an alarm on your phone went off, signaling that the library was closing in five minutes. You jolted in surprise from both the sound and how late it was; you couldn’t believe so much time had passed. Quickly, you gathered your things and ran to the lift, hoping you’d make it before the outside doors locked.

When the lift doors closed after you entered, you let out a breath of relief. The last thing you needed was to be stuck in the place you had already spent the past four hours in.

The doors opened, confusing you for a moment. You weren’t on the ground floor yet; you had only moved down one floor. But then you saw a boy about your age walk in. The doors shut, and you started descending again.

“Hi.” The brunette’s voice was a bit tired. He kept facing forward, but glanced to the side at you, so he must’ve just wanted to be polite.

“Hey.” You responded. While staring forward like him, you caught something in your peripheral. “Your bag’s open.”

He knitted his eyebrows in confusion. “Huh?” Then he swung his backpack around, seeing that you were right and the main pocket was open. “Oh, thanks.” Then he zipped it up, slinging it back over his shoulder.

It was silent after that, aside from the occasional sniffle. When you looked up at the level indicator, you saw that you were passing through the third floor.

But then the lift paused. You and the mystery boy jolted at the sudden stop, looking around in confusion. You must’ve been stuck between floors.

Your nameless companion pressed the ground floor button a few times, but the lift didn’t start up again. He pressed the emergency button and tried using the emergency phone beside the panel of buttons. Nothing.

You looked at your watch and sighed. “The lifts must stop when the library closes.”

“Or maybe the lift’s just fucked.”

“Maybe.”

Ten minutes later, it still wasn’t budging. You and the boy, who you learned was named James, sat on the floor facing each other. You patted your thighs rhythmically, trying to relieve the boredom and anxiousness you were feeling.

James, on the other hand, was messing around with his backpack. You couldn’t really see what he was doing, which he was glad about. Because just out of your view, he was playing around with the hunting knife his father had gotten him one year. He didn’t want you to be alarmed by the sight.

He figured it would make killing you a bit less enjoyable. If you freaked out and started to struggle.

But it’s not like you could get away, not when you were trapped in a lift together late at night in an empty building. That’s what made it so perfect. There were no cameras in the lift, so there’d be no visual evidence of the crime. And when he looked up, James could see a large vent in the middle of the ceiling, which he could probably climb out through if he undid the screws and then open the doors of the floor that you were stuck slightly under.

After years of fantasizing, planning, and preparation, it was as if God himself were handing James this opportunity.

“So, what’re you studying?”

Your voice had brought James out of his deep thoughts, and only then did he notice he had an iron grip on the knife handle. He quickly set the knife down in his lap so you wouldn’t see it, still keeping his hand on it while he awaited the perfect moment to strike. “What?”

“What’re you studying?” You asked again, smiling softly but awkwardly at him. You figured you might as well try to get to know this stranger, as it was unforeseeable how long you’d be stuck together in this little box.

“Oh.” He wasn’t expecting you to speak to him. James was preparing himself for a very wordless interaction, apart from your possible screams. “Um, criminology.” Considering his hobbies and ambitions, he figured that would be a good major for him. He saw it as a bit of a preventative measure because he could learn from the mistakes of others.

“Interesting.” You respond, sitting up a little straighter. “How’s that going?”

James was a bit put off by your wanting to make conversation. “Fine.” He carefully twirled the big knife in his hand. “What do you study?” He figured it was only polite to return the favor. Might as well ask you a bit about yourself before he kills you.

Your face lit up, and you quickly started talking about your major and the classes you were taking. James was only half listening, too busy thinking. He wasn’t used to people being this energetic, especially so late at night. He made sure to nod and hum at the appropriate times, but other than that, he just stared at you.

‘Maybe I should turn her around.’ James thought to himself. ‘Looking at her face might make it more difficult.’ He recognized that you had a nice face but quickly pushed those thoughts aside. ‘Focus.’

“I think I’d like working with small animals most; they’re just so precious.” James’ interest was piqued as you finished your rambles with a smile.

“Small animals?” He repeated, and you nodded. James liked small animals too, although it was for an entirely different reason. “Do you have a favorite?”

He didn’t know why he was asking additional questions, but after seeing your eyes brighten at the question, he didn’t regret it.

“Cats, definitely.” You answer, and James couldn’t help but lean forward a bit with curiosity. “A lot of people think they’re mean, but I think they just need the right person.”

Of all the animals James had encountered, he supposed he liked cats the most. They were a bit affectionate with him when they didn’t know what was about to happen. And when they realized the danger they were in, they put up more of a fight, which he appreciated a bit.

“Cats are nice.”

“Especially kittens. They’re just so adorable.”

‘And put up less of a fight.’ James thought.

“Aren’t all cats born with blue eyes?” He asked instead. You nodded, diving into an explanation about how kittens don’t start producing melanin until they’re six weeks old.

‘I should just do it now.’ James gripped the knife tightly. ‘She’s talking too much.’

Yet he kept listening and asking questions. Your talkativeness infuriated and interested James, and he had no clue what to do about it.

Suddenly, the lift slowly descended, and you both jolted in surprise. James quickly stuffed the hunting knife in his backpack and stood up. For some reason, he couldn’t help but reach his hand out to help you stand up. You didn’t even make a comment about how weird and fucked up his hand was, instead just thanking him.

When the doors opened, a custodian was surprised to see you two in the lift. “What’re you two doing here? It’s after hours.”

“Lift got stuck,” James answered, and the two of you exited the lift and then the library. “I can walk you home. If you’d like.”

He didn’t know why he offered, but let it go when you accepted. Maybe the extreme darkness would give him another opportunity.

But James never took it. Instead, he walked you to your dorm, making idle conversation with you the whole way. You did most of the talking, which you liked.

“Maybe I’ll see you around.” You said as he walked you to the door of the building.

“Yeah,” James said. “Maybe.”

“Be safe, James.” You waved to him before going inside, leaving the boy outside frustrated and confused about his night with you. But one thing was for sure, he hoped to see you again.

#agaypanic #teotfw james x reader #teotfw james #teotfw x reader #teotfw #the end of the f***ing world

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deesi-academia · 3 months

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hey, I saw the anti swiftie post. If you're comfortable mag I know the reason why? I am kinda neutral about her but I feel like I should know stuff. I understand if you don't wanna answer this. Take care <3

(also I agree the swiftie fandom is kinda annoying lmao)

hello old old old anon ask I'm so sorry for replying so late but yeah hi 😭

I have tons of time on my hands for the next.... 30 minutes so let's get into it. I'll list a time line of my thought process to how I came to the 'ex-swiftie' conclusion:

1. She released a song called "renegade" which is good, but I found some lines problematic and unexpected, because I used to hold swift to a pedestal (guilty as charged).

The lines were 'is it insensitive of me to say get your shit together so I can love you' and 'is it really your anxiety stopping {something love something idk} or do you just not want to?' SOOOOO yeah these thew me off a little.

2. Her album Midnights came out which I ADORED, became my fav so quick. But then her multiple variations of vinyls etc threw me off again. This is when the Bad Feeling About Her started setting in.

3. Then she released the song 'You're losing me' which just BLARED red flags to me even though the song is actually good. It's the first time I think, where she hinted that she broke up with her bf (Joe Alwyn) because of his mental illness.

4. The ongoing carbon emissions controversy lol, and her buying carbon credits... like it just felt like a "hah I'm rich so I can do whatever wrongs i want and buy it out" moment. I really hated that, since I live in a pretty polluted city so it hit close to home.

5. She threatened to sue the teenager who published PUBLIC data about her flights. Bad.

6. The entire free palestine movement gained momentum and she stayed silent. She has her image as the American Princess and Activist Who Can Do No Wrong. Feminist Queen. Speaker For Those Who Can't Speak. Yada Yada.

I simply hated her billionaire self as she chose to stay silent (and still is). To call off the criticism she and her bestie Selena went to a live comedy show where the comedian donated his earnings for Gaza relief. LIKE. ??????? Basic billionaire below underground level of "donation"???? This had to be a joke. It was not.

I think this incident was the final straw for me where I realized I can't support her if she's such a human being. That's not what my morals stand for thank you very much.

7. I REALLY tried to separate the art from the artist but I couldn't. Not with my sane mind and strong ethics. AND THEN the entire Matty healy debacle. He's a misogynistic, racist, zionist, ugh of a person.

I don't think anyone can date someone with such drastic opposing values. So the Taylor-Matty era further tarnished her image in front of me.

8. Fast forward and she releases her new album The Tortured Poets Department. That's it this was my final straw. You can just Google and go on a reddit thread about how problematic this album is. I'll probably write a long ass essay on it. Anyway this is where I decided I'm done, back in April.

Since then I've just been trying to cope with losing my fav artist because of the person she turned out to me. And people say we shouldn't hold celebs to such high standards but bro. Taylor PROMOTES parasocial relationships. SHE held her image to that standard until recently. There's an entire documentary on Netflix about that - Miss Americana.

So yeah she let me down from the pedestal she put herself on. It's been 2+ months and I'm still coping, because I genuinely lost a very important part of my life - her music. It has got me through tough times and I have many good memories associated with those songs.

Anyway, here's to new artists to love ONLY for their music lol 🥂

#this got so long sorry but im covering other anon asks through this answer hehe #ex swiftie #swifties dni #asks #dee #answers

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accirax · 9 days

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initial thoughts on DCAS episode 21

AKA, the finale :O this will be a doozy...

for Going Through It as frequently and as strongly as Jake does, i find it hilarious that all of his promotional material always looks like it was ripped straight from a dorky high school girl's instagram feed. also, go Ashley, roast that clown (/lh)

that's such a cute drawing omg!!! i always have fun thinking about how good the drawing is in the context of the universe it was drawn in. like, to us, his proportions look kinda off, but in their universe, the giant heads and tiny waists are actually really accurate. Hunter is going to be the next great artist fr.

... i thought that the point was supposed to be that Jake grew more than anyone here, which is why he was facing down Riya. i mean, i guess you could say that Ally had to grow a new personality for the beginning of the season, and then have that character develop. she is more changed from s2 Ally than Jake is from s1 Jake because Jake had more of a character in s1.

and boy, would it suck if that promise was left unfulfilled! (/s)

it is true that this (if she actually remained on Riya's team the whole time) is kind of a win-win for Ellie. either Riya loses, or she gets $100K. both are acceptable.

this was such a cute/fitting response for Jake to have. it's a really great button on their relationship.

i love how smug they look at no one wanting to help Riya.

WHEN THE FUCK WERE YOU WATERBOARDED???

actually, we know that Tom is a terrible liar, so maybe he got waterboarded by the mob boss after they figured out he was lying in the interrogation.

w... what...?

dare i say iconic

i know that they didn't really have time, but with Alec and Ellie working together (and Alec protecting Ellie, as he did here), i had kind of hoped that we'd get a bit more closure on their relationship. like, does Ellie still hate Alec for betraying her? or is the fact that they were going to be in the villains alliance together mean that they'd cross that bridge? maybe i'm just forgetting, but their relationship feels somewhat unresolved. (i mean relationship platonically btw; no hate to people who ship them but i don't need to know if they're a couple or not because the canon answer is obviously no)

i don't know if this was really necessarily but good for you girl

this is like the first time Fiore has cared about anyone ever :,D Fiore and Alec the duo ever!!!

A GENUINE SMILE????????

why are you preventing this from happening? you know Gabby, so you should know that this would absolutely work.

rewatching the beginning of the episode after knowing the end, i sorta wanted to question whether Ashley abstaining from helping could have accidentally lost Jake the win. however, Tom is just so doggedly determined to cover his man that i think he probably was the best guy for the job. like, would Ashley dive for him? idk.

okay, 1) WHAT THE FUCK DID YOU THINK THAT WAS GOING TO DO, RIYA?!?!, and 2) HOW THE FUCK DID GABBY NOT LOSE HER ARM FROM THIS. IMAGINE IF SHE DID. THIS WAS WILD.

... does Riya understand how pain works? or the American healthcare system? Ellie surely wanted to use that money for something else, dude.

so they are kinda sweeping Tom's wrongdoings under the rug, huh? sigh. hopefully it's just a "for now" thing to be further explored in the miniseries.

i love Trevor's little :3 face

and boy, would it suck if this favor was left unfulfilled! (/s)

i watched a compilation of each Disventure Camp character's first and last lines, and let me just say, it's really weird that "Go, Jake!" (said with Aiden) is James' last line ever.

GIVE UP ON HERRRRRRRRR

(also, glad his foot seems to be doing better)

i know i probably would have made fun of this scene for being super corny/moving too fast if Tom had said "i love you," but it's perhaps equally funny that he didn't. like, c'mon bro, you can't even muster the L word in this incredibly dramatic and heroic moment?

COPE

oh boy...

y'know, beyond just not having a good time slot in which to do so, i also kinda put off writing these initial thoughts because i just really didn't feel like having to write anything about ONC's choice regarding the winner of the season. everyone online seems to have these really radical opinions-- either saying that this was a brilliantly subversive and poetic choice, or that the entire season (and perhaps even s2 before it) are ruined by the choice to let Riya in. the truth is, i'm incredibly neutral.

on one hand, i'm incredibly disappointed. if you've been keeping up with these initial thoughts throughout the season, or especially my episode-by-episode power rankings, you'll know that i've very firmly believed that Jake was going to be the winner of this season since the beginning of the merge. and it's not because he's my favorite character and i really wanted him to win or anything-- i have a generally favorable opinion on Jake, but it was mostly because i thought that the arcs and messages of the season would be best capped off with a Jake win. therefore, it's saddening to believe that they didn't capitalize on all that potential just for the sake of shock value.

then again, i really appreciate what ONC was trying to do with Riya. i can tell that they must have felt like they had a lot to prove with Riya in DCAS given how mixed her reception was in s2. so, they put in a lot of work to "fix" her character in DCAS, and, on the whole, i think they got a lot better! as much as i was predicting the Jake win, i was also kind of dreading it, just because it was the sort of cheesy, fanservicey ending that could be predicted from a mile away. so i appreciate the boldness to go for an unexpected ending, and the refusal to stagnate in cookie cutter fan-pleasing storylines when your artistic heart is driving you in another direction.

which is why, in the end, i have no strong opinions. i think that the character writing absolutely could have been set up to establish viewer expectations better, but i also don't think that the entire season is unwatchable because Riya wins. the truth of the matter is still that all of the other contestants besides Yul are the real winners of the season, because they made friends and grew as people. if you rewatch the season, you can still see the gang do just that. but the equal truth is that all of the promises those friends made and the goal that drove them to improve might all feel a bit more hopeless with the knowledge that Connor never did get to one-up Riya. People who needed the money more, like Ashley, Alec, or Ellie didn't get a cent of it. and unlike it would be for Jake, who had a lot of connections with a lot of people, many contestants had pretty much no bearing on the winner of the season at all.

i want to believe that the Disventure Camp writing can and will continue to overall get better, but i also can't ignore the obvious signs of growing pains. can't bring myself to get all too mad at them either, though. mostly, i just want to stay out of any drama.

it really shows that Jake hasn't been able to look at social media since the beginning of the show. trust me, buddy, not everyone was rooting for you.

unsurprising that tomjake gets the last kiss of the season/era.

cite your sources, please (/j)

i guess the real person Riya was lying to all along... was herself. *vine boom* because, seriously, how the fuck did she not realize that it wasn't just acting anymore? when she double-broke Connor's foot and tried to make Ally think that Jake lied about being suicidal???

#disventure camp #dcas #dcas initial thoughts #disventure camp spoilers #dcas spoilers #i need more images again hang on

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fbfh · 2 years

Text

rocks at your window pt. 10 - ricky bowen x reader

disclaimer: this series contains smut and chapter by chapter warnings, so as with all nsfw works, ricky is aged up to 18+!! ricky and reader are 18 and in their senior year

additionally, we're working towards a ricky x therapy plot so he's going to start expressing some symptoms of mental illness and bpd but he does get therapy eventually and has a good support system but he gets worse before he gets better yk. Obviously I'm not a professional and this is for entertainment so while I have done my research pls take this with a grain of salt!! or several!! /lh

!! contains some spoilers for season 1 of hsmtmts, and previous chapters of this fic !!

wc: 10.1k

genre: angst, hurt/comfort, more high highs and a lot of low lows, tooth rotting fluff

pairing: ricky bowen x (afab she/her) reader

warnings: saucy flashbacks, nini and ej are very unprofessional, more fake texts, more coping through the arts, ricky realizes he's a real theatre kid, ricky is simping for you, seb being seb/a good friend/an absolute sweetheart, ricky distancing himself from lynne (slay), spilling tea (after getting permission to do so), conflicted feelings, nini (and ej but mostly nini) ruins the show, three seperate nini pick me moments, reader is about to snap, ricky and reader are mvps, one playful 'babe' from reader to ricky, nini is one delusional bitch!, brief mention of reader's trauma (jumpy at loud noises, flinches when someone raises their voice), ricky and big red are bros, big red has good opinions bc he stans dr phil, minor big red x ashlyn, kourtney and ricky do not get along lol, reader DOES snap, nini is terrible idk how else to rephrase it she's just the worst, nini gets yelled at by both you and ricky (slay), realizations happen, jones BIGASS love confessions and neck kisses.html, flowery descriptions, ricky picks you up briefly, making out, ricky is good with kids and it's adorable, nini is the only one who calls it YAC, theatre kids at denny's jumpscare, mike is a good dad, you wear one of ricky's shirts, saccrine amounts of love declarations, tooth rotting fluff

summary: after the disaster that was act one, act two also finds some way to go unplanned, causing you to be completely fed up with Nini's unprofessional behavior. you turn a night of confrontations around as you realize something and ricky finally gets something important off his chest.

song recs: entr'acte (hands clean) - jagged little pill obc, smiling - jagged little pill obc, what am I to you - rm, you stupid bitch - crazy ex girlfriend cast, first - niki and gabi, for a pessimist, I'm pretty optimistic - paramore, I hear a symphony - cody fry, something to believe in - newsies obc, let's go to the movies - annie (1982), sunrise - in the heights obc

a/n: fangz again 2 cici for beta reading, prepz fuk off. I'm watching american horror story murder house so uh. i'll let you know how that goes. it's hilarious so far tbh i love basement babyman. also this is ricky at you

tags @yesv01 @afidiofobia @aliyahsutherland @hopefullhearts @pikzel @demirunner @brinaslittlefreak @girlfriendwhoseawitch @matiere-detoiles @ifilwtmfc @uselesssapphickitten @nxstalgicnxbxdy @ggclarissa @n-slayaaaaa @stormi-ames @thatawkwardlittlefangirl @rainforest-daisies @sunshineangel-reads

You had heard the first part of their argument from your dressing room. After that it was muffled yelling - most of which you hoped was Ricky’s. When Natalie called for places, they were still going at it. You found Miss Jenn as quickly as you could, worried about Ricky, unsure if he was still okay to perform.

“EJ is already getting ready to go on.” She tells you. It’s the only answer you need for how ugly things got. She ushers everyone to their places, trying her best to squash their questions and speculations of what’s going on.

“Nothing you need to worry about, just find you places, get in character, get ready for act two…” she instructs. She pulls you aside before you enter the wings.

“Mr. Mazzara is escorting her out as we speak.” she informs you quietly.

“Wait, Mr. Mazzara is here?” you ask. She pauses.

“Uh, yes. He’s been… helping run the lights up in the control booth. It was a last minute-” she shakes her head. “It doesn’t matter. The point is, the… shrew is leaving and Mike is on his way back to check on Ricky.” You’re relieved that his dad is here for him - and Miss Jenn. You look around momentarily.

“Where is he?” you ask.

“That dusty storage room we shoved the creepy mannequins in.”

The one with the piano. The one where he helped you come down from a panic attack your first day at the El Rey, and…

“...So they’re probably going to wait until the show is over, then head home.” You snap out of the onslaught of memories that stirred up at the mention of that storage room, catching the last half of what she said. “You can keep your phone in the wings to stay in touch, just make sure it’s not a distraction.”

“Okay,” you agree, already feeling it buzzing in your pocket. She nudges you toward the wings as the intro to I Can’t Take My Eyes Off of You starts playing, Nini and EJ’s voices should be floating through the house.

“Now, go be Sharpay!” she says with a smile, and you start to turn the corner, then pause.

“Miss Jenn!” you whisper-yell, and she looks back up at you. “Thank you! For everything.” you say sincerely. She places her hands on her chest, smiling, and you finally find your place backstage.

“Like, full on screaming,” you hear Zeke say to Martha. You try to ignore them, and everyone else talking and whispering. You knew it would spread like wildfire, backstage drama always does. You pull out your phone, blowing up with texts from Ricky and his dad. You keep switching between the two text threads, trying to figure out what happened, to make sure Ricky’s okay. As you type out replies to both him and his dad, you look out onto the stage. Something doesn’t sound right, the gaps between the dialog are too long.

Your brow furrows, trying to figure out what’s going on. EJ’s hand comes up to his collar and he leans forward. Nina delivers her next line more stilted and awkward and out of character than anything you’ve ever seen. You watch, confusion turning into disbelief as Nina covers her mic with her hand, and whispers something to EJ. Being so close to where they’re standing, you’re able to catch most of what she says - ‘seriously, EJ, where’s Ricky?’, or something to that effect.

High pitched feedback whines at the disturbance to her mic, and for a moment you think you must have imagined it. There’s no way, no chance in hell she covered her mic with her hand, broke character onstage, and got EJ to break character too. You take a few breaths, reminding yourself that you’re not the director. Miss Jenn will have to deal with that one. Your phone buzzes as you get more texts from Ricky, and you check it again.

Ricky stares at the little gray box on his screen, letting your words sink in. He still has four shows to perform in. He has more than just tonight to look forward to. All of those shows, every single one of them, is going to go just fine. Even now, through the worst possible nightmare of a thing that could have happened, the show is still continuing; the show must go on. And it will. It is, right in front of his eyes, as he and his dad enter the auditorium, taking two empty seats, Ricky’s right on the aisle. EJ and Nini harmonize, dancing around the stage - like he was supposed to. They finish the last verse of Can’t Take My Eyes Off of You, as the audience applauds. He claps politely as the lights go down.

He mentally runs through what he would be doing if he were back there with you guys. You’re probably getting ready for the scene at Sharpay’s locker with Zeke, standing center stage in the dark, looking at the prop accessories in the pink locker, while Zeke mentally goes over his lines and blocking in the stage left wing. The lights go up, and he’s right. He knows this whole show inside and out, he realizes, and it makes his chest squeeze. Instead of dwelling on that, he leans forward, watching the scene begin to play out. He realizes suddenly that he gets to actually watch you perform. Not just from the wings or during rehearsals or in a grainy camcorder video, but he gets to watch you live.

He smiles a little, realizing how special that is. You deliver your lines flawlessly, bringing a chuckle from the audience with your attitude right when you want one. It’s crazy how you play the mean girl so well, when it couldn’t be further from your real personality. He figures you’re just that amazing. You let out a shrill, frustrated scream, then storm off stage with Zeke trailing after you. When the lights go down, he claps loudly, letting out a cheer. He lets out a shaky breath, knowing you’ll be in the next scene, too - you’re probably quick changing for it right now.

He’s right again, and backstage, you pull on your jacket, relieved to be done a little earlier than usual. It’s probably nerves from everything that happened tonight making you go a little quicker, but you’re not complaining.

“So,” Seb says quietly next to you, bending over to tug on his heels, “what happened earlier? It sounded bad…” You let out a slow, frustrated sigh. He gets the sense it wasn’t just bad, it was really bad.

“Just…” you search for the words, “some personal stuff. Family stuff, I guess.”

“Bad enough for him to leave halfway through the show?” he asks, and you can tell he’s concerned. You pause fixing your belt, looking up to the catwalk and praying for the strength to get through tonight. Seb is one of the sweetest people you’ve ever met, and you know he wouldn’t hurt a fly, but the last thing you need to do is add to the whispers, the desire for someone to spill the tea on what happened during intermission.

“It’s really not for me to say…” you trail off, glancing at the other groups of castmates waiting to go on and techies listening for their cues. ‘Later’, you mouth to him. You have to go on any minute, and you want to text Ricky about it before you tell anyone anything. It’s really not your place to tell anyone what’s going on in his homelife. You pull out your phone, sending him a quick text that says some of your friends are worried about him, and does he want you to say anything or keep it under wraps for now. You turn your phone on silent and hide it in your bra before making your entrance on time.

Seb lets out a huff, then follows you off stage as the ensemble runs in from the wings and the music for Wildcat Cheer reprise starts playing. As the ensemble begins dancing, Ricky checks his phone again, seeing a new text from you. ‘What do you want me to say?’ He pauses, staring at the screen. What does he want you to say? Nothing, at first. For a painful, fleeting moment, he wishes none of this had ever happened in the first place, he wishes he didn’t have to keep making up excuses and brushing things off. He doesn’t have to, he realizes. He doesn’t have to keep covering for her, and overcompensating for her shitty decisions. He bites the inside of his cheek, then texts you back.

Backstage, you return to the stage right wing, ready for your next scene. You check to see if Ricky has texted you back, and he did. ‘Tell them she showed up unannounced and we got in a fight. I’m not trying to make her look good anymore.’ You agree, and a part of you is glad he’s not making himself responsible for his mother’s emotions anymore. When your scene is over, you rush to your dressing room to get ready for Bop to the Top. You have a full costume and hair change, and you need to tweak your makeup a little, so it usually takes you the longest to get ready for. Once you’ve applied enough body glitter to choke a bratz doll, you leave your dressing room, meeting Seb on the way to the wings.

Most of the cast is onstage right now, so it’s not very crowded backstage where you stand, waiting for the current song to end. Seb moves a little closer to you and lowers his voice.

“I know it’s probably not a good time to ask, but what in the Mount Saint Helens happened with Ricky?” He asks in a hushed, worried tone. You bite back a smile at his turns of phrase, and sigh. You think back to Ricky’s text, how he said he’s done covering for her.

“His mother showed up…” you say slowly, pausing at the shocked expression on his face.

“She what?” he exclaims quietly.

“And she tried to corner Ricky during intermission,” he gasps, and you continue, “and they got into a huge fight.”

“Oh my god.” he says, thinking back to the yelling he’d heard.

“Mhm.” you confirm, “Miss Jenn had to kick her out so she wouldn’t cause more of a scene.”

“Oh my god!” he gasps in disbelief that it got that bad. He feels like he’s on an episode of Real Housewives. Or maybe Dance Moms.

“Poor Ricky… Is he okay?” His mind constructs different images of Ricky’s mother ambushing him while he tries to get ready for act two. He can’t imagine how terrible that must have been.

“As much as he can be right now,” you say. Seb can see how worried you are about him. This night took a toll on you, and he’s sure Ricky’s dad and Miss Jenn can’t be doing much better. It makes sense, and he’s glad to at least know what happened.

“That’s pretty much it, but I’ll give you the details later.” you say, noting that you have to go on soon, and walking over to Ashlyn so you can enter together.

The music starts, and Ricky has never been more excited for Bop to the Top. He’s never had the opportunity to see you and Seb perform full out like this from the audience, he’s always been just out of view before because of the blocking and where he was supposed to stand on stage. But now, he’s front and center, watching the light bounce off the glitter scattered across your chest and arms. You’re in a gorgeous, glittering teal dress that bounces and moves with every step you take. Your silver sparkling heels match your bracelets, and your hair is pinned up with big pink and white flowers on the side. Seb begins to dance with you, wearing a coordinating outfit that’s just as flashy.

As the music cuts between the basketball game and science decathlon, you and Seb continue to steal the show. Your singing is gorgeous and your choreography is flawless. You harmonize as you spin around, totally in sync. Your attitude, your charisma is overflowing. The two most important events of the show are happening on either side of you, and you’re keeping all eyes center stage. He’s never seen a number with this much energy, this much flare, and based on the way the crowd is reacting, they feel the same way.

As the tension builds, as the time to score the winning shot runs out and the science questions get harder and harder, as the music builds, Ricky’s breath is taken away. At the climax of the number, the East High Wildcats win the championship basketball game, and the science decathlon at the same moment. You and Seb hit the final note, holding it out as you strike your ending pose. Right as you’re done, Taylor kills the lights.

Ricky is stunned at how good the show looks from the audience. But in spite of how amazing it’s been, he can’t ignore the gnawing in his chest anymore. He’s been trying so hard to focus on you, to not be jealous of EJ standing up there reciting his lines, singing his parts and doing his choreography. Seeing EJ up there, seeing Carlos struggle to fill in as Chad makes his stomach sink. It’s supposed to be him up there. He’s supposed to be the one scrambling to make it to callbacks on time, just like he did in real life all those months ago. He turns his attention back to you, as you begin your biggest Sharpay diva moment of the show.

You storm off with Seb at your heels, and you both begin to get changed for the finale. As you get dressed into your white and red outfits, you can’t resist telling him a little more about what happened during act one and intermission.

“...And she just stormed up to me, demanding to see him. Like, I told her, ‘you’re not cast or crew, you are so not allowed to be back here’, but she didn’t care!” Your voice is intense, but hushed.

“Are you kidding?” he demands, shock evident on his face.

“I wish I was…” you laugh softly, just as flabbergasted by the recent turn of events as he is. You inch closer to the curtain, and see Ricky wave to you in the audience - or more specifically in the general direction of where he knows you’d be right about now. His eyes are still a little pink and puffy, and it’s obvious how much everything that happened tonight has fucked him up. Your chest squeezes at the sight, and you wish you could hug him or do something to help. You sigh, trying to think of something encouraging to text him when you get a spare minute to. You snap out of your train of thought when you realize it’s quiet onstage. Your stomach sinks as EJ repeats his line, trying to cue Nina.

“Oh god,” you mutter next to Seb.

“Did she forget her lines?” he asks. Her head turns, and you see what she’s looking at - who she’s looking at. You’re minutes away from the finale of the show, and she’s staring at Ricky. EJ begins speaking again, reciting his lines, but he just keeps going.

“Is he improving?” you ask rhetorically. “Why is he improving?”

You have no idea what’s going on, but this show is going off the rails so fast. It’s like a slow motion trainwreck, and you find yourself unable to look away as Nina whispers to him out of character, for the second time in the last hour. You can feel your blood pressure rise as she breaks character too, the both of them floundering onstage and deviating from every rule of theatre Miss Jenn has been drilling into your heads for the last three months. Again, EJ speaks up, not even trying at this point.

“I’m not the Troy you want,” he says melancholically.

“What the fuck are they doing?” you hiss, and Seb can tell that after everything that happened tonight, this is really the last straw for you - you’re out for blood. You watch in disbelief as EJ just… walks offstage. And that’s it. You think it’s a really good thing he exited to the other side of the stage, because you sure have some choice words for him right now.

“What is he doing?!” you question again, more pissed off than Seb has ever seen you. As if things couldn’t possibly get worse, you can’t believe what you’re seeing. Nina picks up her mic and begins to walk toward the edge of the stage, singing acapella.

“She better not fucking do what I think she’s doing.” your voice is quiet, dangerous, and Seb is momentarily worried on her behalf. Even though you’re like, the nicest person ever, he doesn’t think anyone would want to be on your bad side.

Your hand flies over your mouth in utter disbelief as she walks into the audience and right over to Ricky, signaling for Big Red to follow her with a spotlight. Just when you think this couldn’t be more of an amature hour shit show, she pulls out her phone, turning her flashlight on him. You have no idea what she thinks that’s going to do, and thank god when she puts it away after a minute. She grabs Ricky’s hand, trying multiple times to pull him out of his seat. His heart is pounding, and he can feel himself freezing up. He has no idea what’s happening or why she’s doing this, and he has even less of an idea what he’s supposed to do.

“I’m… really not at my best right now…” he manages to choke out. She doesn’t listen, and grips his hand, limp in hers.

“Just look at me, Ricky. Right at me.” She smiles, like that will fix anything. He shouldn’t go up there, he shouldn’t go onstage when he’s like this. He and his dad had a whole conversation about it after intermission. But with everyone staring at him, Nini begins to sing. When she holds out the mic for him to finish the verse, he does, almost on instinct. He can’t leave her hanging, not like this. He panics, and next thing he knows, he’s letting her drag him onstage. He doesn’t know what’s happening, why she’s doing this, but he moves automatically and lets her drag him onstage.

He’s struggling to keep his voice level, using all his effort to push past the pain, and smile at her. As she finally brings him center stage, taking his shaking hands in hers, he fights with everything inside him to make this work, to make it convincing, and be the finale it was supposed to be. He just has to keep it together for this last number, work through the pain, the ache in his chest and stomach that’s killing him as he stands up there, just for three minutes. As the rest of the cast begins to hit their cues, the energy has never been higher. They’re giving it everything they’ve got to hype him up, give him something to hold onto. He can feel them reaching out to him, singing and dancing their hearts out to lift him up.

He’s trying so hard to be Troy, to seem convincing, to smile sincerely - not at Nini, but at Gabriella. He holds her hands, beaming, thinking about how badly Troy wants to kiss her. He clings onto this moment, the music, this role like a lifeboat. Troy has a great relationship with both his parents, Troy doesn’t come from a broken home. Troy is okay, he’s never been better, which means that Ricky gets to be okay vicariously through him, just for a little while. Just for a few minutes. He holds onto this catharsis as tightly as he can. He’s not going to let this moment be taken away from him too. The audience is cheering louder than ever as they make their way to the end of the song, incredibly confused at the cast changes and Nini’s actions, but they cheer everyone on - especially Ricky - nonetheless.

He smiles at her through misty eyes, holding her hands and gazing at her in adoration. ‘This is it,’ Nini thinks, ‘my Ricky has come back to me. It’s always going to be us.’ He caresses her cheek, and looks at her like he really wants to kiss her as they harmonize. She knows he wants to kiss her, he’s always loved her and he’s always going to. They’ve had their ups and downs, but she knows that Ricky will always be hers. She was his first love, his first everything, and that’s what really matters. They have history, and you can’t fake that, you can’t manufacture that.

The song ends and she drags him into the wings away from you and Seb, shoving his finale costume at him. He fumbles to take off his jacket, desperately trying to stay in motion, to keep moving, keep smiling, keep being Troy. He throws the sparkly white and red tracksuit on over his remaining clothes, and has seconds before he’s going to get dragged back out for the finale of a show he was only able to half participate in. He hates her so much for ruining this for him. He hates Nini for dragging him back up here, for literally putting him in a spotlight in the aftermath of the worst event of his life. He sucks it up, putting on a smile and getting hyped up to sing along to the megamix.

It takes one look at your face for Seb to know just how bad this is. He can feel the rage, the disbelief radiating off of you, and he has no idea what’s going to happen after this. He thinks it’s nice that Nini tried to include Ricky, but she definitely didn’t go about it the right way. He’s sure you’d feel that’s probably the biggest understatement that could be made about the situation.

“Are you okay?” he asks quietly, really worried. There’s already been so much drama tonight, he knows your bullshit tolerance is in the negatives right now. You stare at Nina across the stage, watching her whisper something to Kourtney with an expression on her face that infuriates you.

“Not sure yet.” You answer quietly, voice dangerous. Finally, you hear your cue, and you and Seb enter the stage.

He watches you change on a dime, transforming into a sassy, fun, reformed mean girl. You dance with him, and flirt with Zeke effortlessly. He can’t find a trace of your previous rage once you’re past the curtain, singing and dancing as Sharpay. There’s a light, fun, playful energy around you, and it’s infectious, making Seb and Zeke and everyone else around you have even more fun out there. For a moment, he forgets how ugly this is going to get once the lights go down.

You make your way over to Gabriella, doing a little dance with her, just like you’re supposed to. You flash her a thumbs up, and wink at her supportively when Troy pulls her closer to dance, just like you’ve been practicing at every rehearsal leading up to this moment. Nina smiles at you when you do, interpreting yours and Ricky’s behavior as more than just stage directions. She feels a sense of benevolent camaraderie with you in these fleeting moments. Maybe she will be the bigger person, maybe she will extend her friendship to you, because even though you did try to steal Ricky from her - unsuccessfully at that - fighting over dumb boys is stupid.

She and Gina run off to pull Miss Jenn onstage so she can deliver her infamous deleted line. It was your idea initially, but you made sure to tell the rest of the cast before tonight so the surprise could be from all of you. The cast and house cheer as she delivers her line, and you can see how much it means to her. You get a minute to dance with Ricky, and make your way over to him as quickly and naturally as possible. You couldn’t seem happier or more care free, but when you speak, your voice is strained.

“I am so sorry that happened…” you say, barely loud enough for him to hear over the swell of the music and the rhythmic clapping as the audience keeps time. He can see it, the frustration being masked by your energetic, jovial nature. You’re doing the same thing he is, he realizes. You’re using this moment onstage and in character to keep the real world at bay. He doesn’t think he’s ever felt closer to you than he does right now. He wants to say something, he wants to feel horrible - he’s sure it’s justified - but when he looks at you, he can’t

You’re onstage together at the end of your opening night performance, with a full house clapping and cheering and singing along with you both, with the whole cast. And in this moment, you’re worried about him. You’re worried about him. He’s so overwhelmed by this feeling of being onstage with all his friends, an audience full of people who came here and bought tickets and watched the show and are now cheering them on for this, the penultimate moment of all their hard work and dedication and doubts over the last three months culminating to this. He knows you know this feeling well, that this is the first show you’ve done in so long and how badly you’ve missed it - and you’re still up here, worried about him.

“There were some… hiccups, but…” he starts, locking eyes with yours, looking at you that way that he does. He doesn’t think he’s ever felt more strongly for you than he does right now. “This is kind of the best, right?” You smile suddenly at his words, relief evident on your face. You feel like you can breathe a little easier knowing he’s doing okay - or at least, better than he was.

“This is just the tip of the iceberg babe,” you chuckle, nudging him playfully. You’re still livid at that… stunt Nina pulled, that hasn’t slipped your mind. But for now, Ricky is okay. That’s what’s important. You’ll deal with her later, if you get the chance.

“Just wait till you see what I have picked out for the spring musical!” you both look over at Miss Jenn as she smiles, drawing an excited laugh from you and Ricky.

Nina looks over, hearing you laughing with Ricky. It makes her stomach sink. She scoffs, figuring it must be platonic. He’s probably just giving you closure, or something. She looks back out into the crowd, and stops dancing as she watches the scout from YAC leave. Her mouth hangs open in disbelief. If she doesn’t get into YAC, the performing arts school of her dreams, what was the point of all this?

After everyone runs forward in groups, then individually to bow in front of the audience, You, Nina, and Ricky are the last to go. He stands between you, lined up with everyone else, holding both your hands as you and all your friends bow as a cast. He snaps to attention as he hears a certain part of the music, squeezing your hand in warning. Confetti cannons go off from the wings moments later, drawing out a new wave of cheers and applause from the audience. You’re grateful for the warning, and you squeeze his hand back as a thank you. Your heart is warmed that even now, after so many difficult things happening back to back in one night, he still remembered that loud noises can make you jumpy.

When Nina goes to share a look with Ricky, her smile drops. He’s already looking at you. There’s a certain type of joy in his eye, the kind you can only find amidst the ashes of misery, as he realizes that through everything that happened, he’s still okay. You’re still here. That’s the important part. You’re still right here with him, holding his hand. He made it to bows. Everything is going to be okay. In sharing this eye contact with him, you can’t help but reflect on how pretty he looks in the blue cast of the stage lights as he looks at you that way that makes your stomach twist.

The curtains begin to draw closed, and you all wave at the audience until they’re out of sight. Sporadic cheers are let out around you as hugs are initiated here and there, and everyone begins flooding to the dressing rooms to get changed. As you make your way to the back, Ashlyn already leading everyone in a very loud, high energy reprise of We’re All in This Together, you squeeze Ricky’s arm. When he looks at you, he seems to be doing exactly as well as you’d expect - okay for now, the massive high from the end of the show keeping him afloat for now, but you know it won’t last forever.

“I’m gonna go get changed real quick, I’ll say hi to my mom then we can go home, okay?” you say quietly, and he can tell from your tone of voice that you’re here for him, he just needs to hang in there a little longer.

“Okay,” he says with a shaky breath. He doesn’t really need to get changed since he has his street clothes on under his tracksuit, so after hanging it up in its place, he waits in the hall outside the dressing rooms. A few minutes later, everyone who got changed the fastest are in the halls and on the stairs outside the dressing rooms, talking and congratulating each other before they go to the lobby. There's a silent understanding that you're all waiting just a few more minutes before you have to leave, before you have to acknowledge that the show is over. Big Red runs over to Ricky as soon as he spots him.

“Are you okay, dude?” he asks quietly, clearly worried about him. Ricky lets out a breathy laugh.

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m okay.” Ricky realizes how stressed he must be, having no idea of anything that was going on until half way through the show. "There’s a lot to fill you in on." Ricky nods his head, and they move to a more secluded area so Ricky can begin catching him up. He goes over the series of events from earlier tonight quickly, trying not to get worked up over all of it again. Soon he's wrapping up his summary of the horrible things that happened in such a short span of time, and his eyes are much less misty than he was worried they'd be.

"Oh. My. God." Red states, laughing in disbelief that his mother would do something like that.

"Yeah." Ricky nods, still in shock.

"Don't take this the wrong way, dude," Red says tentatively, "but that does sound like something she would do; the guilt tripping, mind games, all of it." Ricky can't help but agree. In retrospect, Red does remember her using a lot of language that read as passive aggressive or guilt tripping. There’s no way they could have picked up on that as kids, but hindsight is 20/20. Ricky loses Red's attention real quick as Ashlyn walks toward her friends, no longer loitering outside the dressing room she shares with you and Nini - and soon, Gina. She holds up a piece of paper from the mystery bouquet she'd been inspecting more closely.

“We found a card!” she says excitedly. Ricky nudges Red, encouraging him to tell Ashlyn that he was the one to send the flowers. He looks at Ricky, nervous, and gets an encouraging nod. Big Red takes a breath, steadying himself, then stands up and walks towards Ashlyn.

"Actually…" he starts. He doesn't need to say anything else, watching the realization hit. They walk a few feet away, talking animatedly and seeming to have a good time. More people start to filter out to see their friends and family, and as they dissipate, he realizes he still hasn't seen you since you went to change. He spots Kourtney passing by a few feet away and runs over to her.

"Hey, uh," he starts carefully. He knows Kourtney hasn't been too fond of him for a while. "Do you know where Nini is?" He knows where Gina and Ashlyn are, and he really just wants to grab you and get out of here without even more drama. Kourtney sucks her teeth, considering how to respond for a moment. She could say something, she always has something to say when it comes to Ricky, but she knows tonight was hard on him. She doesn't know the details, but she's sure the last thing she'd want in his position is more animosity.

"The scout left, and she's taking it hard. I think she's with her moms, but I don't know for sure." He waits a beat, realizing there's no other shoe that's going to drop, no glares or snarky comments.

"Thanks," he says quietly, before making his way to your dressing room. You're probably just having trouble getting everything back in your bag. He thought you had way over packed when you showed him the huge tote bag you got ready for tech week, but by the end, every 'just in case you had brought had been needed more than once. You really know your way around a theater, he thinks.

When you first enter your dressing room, all you want to do is get changed and get out. Ashlyn talks a little - mostly to herself - about how excited she is for the next show. You reply as politely as possible, doing everything you can to avoid Nina, ignore her as much as you can. You just have to get changed and get out. You have bigger issues to deal with, bigger fish to fry than to chew her out for what she did back there.

"Yeah," she replies, a faux chipper tone to her voice "hopefully we won't have as many last minute cast changes tomorrow night," you pause, gripping the empty plastic hanger so hard your knuckles turn white. "But who knows, right?"

You've tried your best, you really have, but you can't take her bullshit anymore. The hanger snaps in your hands with a loud crack. Ashlyn's eyes widen in surprise, and now out of costume, she makes her way to the door.

"I'll give you two a minute…"

The cacophony of voices get louder for a moment as she opens the door to leave, then it's quiet again. You turn away from her to tug on your shoes, praying to god she'll just leave it alone, let you get out of here quietly.

"Sorry," her voice is dripping with a passive aggressive ignorance that grates on your ears. "Did you have something to say to me?" Before she can scoff and drop a yeah, that's what I thought, you turn, looking over your shoulder at her with a stone cold glare. When you speak, your voice is so deadly, so sharp she feels like she's been stung.

"Count yourself fucking lucky that I don't have time to hang around right now, but I swear to god, Nina, if you pull shit like that again-"

"Wh-" she sputters, "excuse me? Pull what? Including Ricky, and helping him?"

"You think you were helping him?" You repeat, turning to face her. You roll your eyes scoffing. "Wow." She starts to say something, but you cut her off.

"Look, I don't know why you're here, but some of us actually take this seriously. This actually means something- this matters to some people, and nobody needs you turning it into a little three ring Nina circus, and ruining it for the people who actually want to be here!" Your voice rises as you continue, driving your point home, and refusing to let her interrupt you. By the time you’re done, her mouth is hanging open.

“I don’t care what you do in your free time,” you continue decisively, “I really don’t, but don’t ruin everything for the people who actually give a fuck!” you say, a humorless laugh at the end. You don’t know who’s been coddling her up until now, but you are sure as hell are not going to let someone get away with a stunt like that. It’s clear from her reaction that no one has ever spoken to her like this, and you think it’s long overdue. “That was the most unprofessional load of bullshit I have ever fucking seen! And I’ve been around the rodeo a few times.”

Nina blinks hard, fighting tears prickling the corners of her eyes. She feels like she’s just been slapped. Her? Unprofessional? Wow. You’re really reaching now. She’s the most professional person at this whole school, she just… She freezes as it hits her in a split second of clarity, that she doesn’t have a leg to stand on. She broke the cardinal rules of theatre; she broke character, went into the audience, broke the immersion. She ruined opening night. You can see the moment of lucidity where she realizes she’s in the wrong, and it’s gone just as fast.

“You’re one to talk about being a professional.” She spits. You look at her incredulously. Once again you have no idea where she’s going with this. When you don’t react, don’t instantly get it, she continues.

“You had a Broadway career handed to you on a silver platter, and you threw it away!” she searches your face for shock that she figured out your secret, continuing, “And for what, so you could slum it at some midwestern high school full of amateurs?”

You figured it was a matter of time before someone found out you’ve done professional theatre before, so if she’s waiting for a reaction from you, she’s not going to get one. The only reason you didn’t tell anyone, the only reason you kept quiet about it is because you didn’t want to come across as cocky or seem like you were bragging. Plus, with how hard things got towards the end, you don’t really want to go around and dig up memories from that time in your life. Besides, you’re not in New York right now, you’re at East High. You’re here with all your friends, finally getting a little piece of normalcy. You’re exactly where you want to be, so why would you waste it living in the past?

Before you can answer, she continues.

“The point is, you need to stay away from Ricky and stop lying to him. Okay?” she demands. Her voice is muffled through the door, but right outside, Ricky hears her loud and clear. He didn’t hear you two before, but now the halls and dressing rooms are mostly empty.

Is she still seriously going on about that? You let out a breath, trying to regain your composure.

“I really do not have the time to keep having the same conversation with you over and over - or explain to you that you can’t tell people who they can and can’t date!” you exclaim. You’re about to drop it, but there’s one more thing you need to get off your chest. “And for the fucking record, you don’t know jack shit about what else was going on in my life when I left New York. And I don’t owe you an explanation either.” you say coldly. You’ve said your peace, the only thing you need to do is fucking get out of here and find Ricky.

“I can’t believe I actually used to look up to you!” she exclaims. “Look. It was cute, or whatever, at first, but this little game of yours has gone on for long enough. He’s mine. Now can you leave him alone, please?” she demands. She’s dripping that passive aggression you’re really starting to get sick of. You look at her in the mirror, illuminated with lights.

“Seriously? You seriously want to do this right now.” You say, exhausted. She either doesn’t hear you or pretends not to as she continues.

“I knew him first! I dated him first, I kissed him first. Everything he’s done with you, he did with me first.” she states. She doesn’t know how else to get it into your head that she was his first everything, and you’re just a rebound or something. What they have isn’t something you can just get over like that.

“You weren’t… every first, Nini.” You both look over at Ricky, and you wonder how long he’s been standing in the doorway, how much he heard.

“Ricky… what?” she whips around at the sound of his voice. He stares back at her, teary eyed and serious.

“You weren’t every first.” he repeats. You both look at him in disbelief. Nina furrows her brow. She can’t believe he’s disrespecting their relationship like this. You stare at him, thinking back, reanalyzing your memories. He can’t be saying what you think he’s saying. There’s no way you were his first time. That couldn’t have been his first time. There’s no way that Ricky Bowen was a virgin before he showed up at your house that night, there’s no way that you took his virginity. ‘Oh god, I did, didn’t I?’ you think, remembering the way he looked at you, how nervous and desperate he was. Heat floods to your cheeks. You have no idea what to do with this information.

“How could you say that?” she demands. She was his first crush, his first kiss, his first date, girlfriend, heartbreak. She was all of it.

“Because it’s true!” he exclaims. “The only first I care about, the only first that matters, is right there.” he gestures to you.

Oh yeah, no, you definitely did take his virginity. You did not expect this, much less that it would make you feel so… tender? Flattered? Warm and fuzzy maybe? You hold back a flustered laugh. Whatever warm thing it is, you’re sure feeling a lot of it. You stare at the ground, cheeks hot, butterflies fluttering in your stomach as you process this in the back of your mind. The majority of your attention is still on Ricky. You’ve been so worried, but he seems okay, which is a huge relief. He catches your eye, and your stomach twists. He’s looking at you like that again, and you’re sure you must be looking at him the same way. Anyone could see it. You snap back to attention, remembering Nina is still in the room with you.

“We should get going-” you start quietly, reaching for your bag.

“Stay out of this!” she snaps, and you recoil at the sudden sharpness to her voice. “This is between Ricky and me.” She turns to him, continuing, “And we are not done talking about this.”

“Don’t talk to her like that.” He says quickly, more defensive of you after what happened earlier. He walks over to you, standing in between you and her. “Anything you have to say to me, you can say it in front of her.” Even though his voice wavers with emotion for a moment, Nina can tell he’s not backing down on this. She weighs her options.

“Okay.” she starts, sucking her teeth. “I think she’s manipulating you.”

He lets out a breathy laugh with a bitter edge. He rolls his eyes, looking away for a second.

“That’s… hilarious, coming from you…” he mutters.

“What? She’s been lying to you this whole time! She’s been doing professional theatre for years, Ricky, she-”

“That’s what this is about?” He realizes. “Oh my god, I already knew that!” he yells. Relief floods him as it clicks that all the bullshit she’s been spewing is nothing he didn’t know about already. She really was just trying to get into his head. “She’s not manipulating me, Nini, she’s there for me! There’s a difference! She actually cares about me - unlike you, and Lynne, and everybody else.”

“That’s not fair-”

“She’s actually there for me, and she doesn’t just bail when shit gets hard. Not like you’d know anything about that.” he says the last part quieter, but she still hears it. She doesn’t have a comeback, she doesn’t have anything she can say to that.

“I don’t have to listen to this.” She grabs her bag, brushing past him. Before she leaves, he turns to her, finally saying something he never thought he’d be able to.

“I’m starting to think I wasn’t the problem in our relationship.”

She freezes, turning to him slowly, eyes glistening.

“What?”

“You heard me.” he states.

“You know what?” There’s nothing she can say, no comeback, no way to defend herself. She lets a single tear fall. “Screw you, Ricky.” She leaves quickly, huffing at what he said. He turns to you, still staring at where she left in disbelief. You exhale for what feels like the first time since this confrontation began, then immediately turn your attention back to Ricky. You’re grabbing your stuff as quickly as you can, desperate to finally get out of here, laughing nervously.

“I can’t believe this night keeps getting worse. Look, we can just go home, we don’t have to go to Denny’s or anything if you don’t want to, I just want to make sure you’re okay, because obviously a lot of-”

“I love you.”

It tears from his throat with more raw emotion than you’ve ever heard, stopping you in your tracks. Your eyes widen as his hands come up to hold your face. He wants to kiss you so badly, more than he’s wanted anything, and you can feel it. He keeps going.

“I love you so much, I wanted to say it before. I’ve wanted to say it since that first amazing night we spent together. Ever since you snuck me into your room, and we talked and watched old episodes of cartoons, and you took me in when I needed you, I have loved you. And then you got those little plastic rings when we were running late for rehearsal, because we stopped for coffee and peach scones, and- and we traded colors, I felt like my heart was going to explode.”

His thumbs caress your cheeks, and it makes you light headed.

“I wanted to say it when we were dancing at homecoming and you were so beautiful I thought I’d die, I wanted to say it every time we kissed, and every time you laugh so hard your nose scrunches up, I wanted to say it. You made me fall in love with theatre, and this beautiful place, and with you. You love everyone around you so selflessly,” his voice breaks, “please, let me love you. The way you deserve to be loved. Even if you don’t want to say it back-”

“I love you too.” You can’t help interrupting him, unable to ignore how true they are any longer. He’s stopped dead in his tracks. “I would have said something sooner, but the last thing I wanted was for you to feel pressured, so I… figured I’d follow your lead.” The room is quiet as he tries to get the air back in his lungs.

“You love me?” he breathes.

“Yeah,” you confirm, nodding, “I do.”

He takes one look at you, holding you intensely in his gaze, confirming that you really just said that. In one swift motion, he pulls you close to him, dipping you, and finally connects his lips to yours. He kisses you more passionately than anything he’s ever done. He kisses the air out of your lungs, kisses away the little space between you, desperately kissing everything he feels for you onto your lips. You lose yourself for a beautiful moment in that kiss. You’re not sure how long you stay like that, holding each other as close as you can get, with kissing as the only means of expressing the depths of your feelings, but it’s long enough that your lungs burn when you finally pull away. He barely moves his face away from yours as you attempt in sync to catch your breath.

“Say it again,” he murmurs against your lips.

“I love you,” you say, soft and sincere, that beautiful smile on your lips where his ache to be again. He reacts instantly to your words, picking you up, and kissing you again and again. You wrap your legs around his waist, giggling in surprise. He sets you on the table in front of the big dressing room mirror where Ashlyn’s character shoes still sit. The mental note to make sure she doesn’t forget them flies out of your mind as Ricky kisses you again and again, mouth open against yours. His lips are all over your face and your neck, turning you into a giggling mess as he holds you tight. He mutters sweet nothings against your skin that turn sensual very quick, but mostly he keeps telling you how much he loves you between kisses, mumbling the three words into your skin over and over.

“Ricky…” you trail off as he bites your neck playfully, causing you to let out a flustered noise. “We have to go upstairs…” you start to forget what you were saying as he runs his tongue over your skin. “Our parents are waiting!” you laugh, desperately holding onto the train of thought.

“Let them wait…” he murmurs, “You said we could kiss after the show, and… it’s after.” The flustered look on your face is too much for him, and he presses his lips to yours again, pushing his tongue into your mouth. You feel so good, your skin is so soft and you smell so sweet, and it’s all so much more now that he’s said it, now that you said it back to him. He squeezes your thigh and bites your lip and moans into your mouth, loving every noise you make, every tug of his hair and grab of his shirt. He’s so desperate for you and your touch, he would fuck you right here if he could. He considers it for a moment.

After eavesdropping too long for her own good, Nina feels a solitary tear roll down her cheek. Ricky’s words ring in her ears. He loves you. He didn’t just say it back, he initiated it. She didn’t stick around too long, just enough for it to hurt. She reaches into her bag, pulling out her songwriting book. She’s sure this will give her plenty to write about, she thinks bitterly. She could probably get a whole album out of it. ‘At least then the pain would be worth something…’ she muses, taking one last look over her shoulder before leaving the dressing rooms - and Ricky - out of her sight.

Eventually, you and Ricky manage to drag yourselves upstairs and greet people in the lobby. Mike finds him quickly, pulling him aside to check on him. He looks back over at you, accepting flowers from your mom and pulling her in for a hug.

“Yeah,” he says. “I’m okay.” He doesn’t look away from you, and Mike doesn’t miss this. His son is a lot of wonderful things, but he sure wouldn’t describe him as subtle. Ricky watches you as a girl in a pink dress walks up nervously to you with who he presumes is her sister. He’s too far away to hear your conversation over the chatter from people milling about, but your face lights up after she speaks. You pull a hot pink sharpie out of your bag and sign her playbill before handing it back to her. The sight makes his chest squeeze. He didn’t know you were good with kids, but it makes total sense - you’re good with everybody.

Mike nudges him toward you.

“Go ahead,” he smiles, so Ricky does.

“Hey,” he starts, pausing when a woman walks up to him, a little girl hiding behind her leg, looking up at Ricky in admiration.

“Excuse me,” the woman says, getting his attention. “You were fantastic. She really loves High School Musical, and we wanted to know if you’d sign her playbill…”

The girl looks up at him nervously, and he smiles, letting out a flustered chuckle. He didn’t expect this, he doesn’t even have a pen - but luckily as always you’re right behind him, extending a sharpie his way.

“Yeah,” he smiles, “sure, of course!” He scribbles his name across the front before handing it back. “What was your favorite part?” he asks. She considers.

“We’re All in This Together.” she decides, singing out the song title.

“No way, that’s my favorite song too!” The way her face lights up is something he doesn’t think he’ll ever forget. She jumps excitedly that someone as cool as Troy Bolton has the same favorite song as her before hiding behind her mom’s legs again. The mom thanks him again before picking up her daughter. Ricky turns to you, not even needing to say anything.

“I know,” you smile, “it’s the best, right?”

“Yeah,” he agrees. “It is.” Your eyes light up that way they do when you remember something, and you reach into your bag. You pull out Ashlyn’s character shoes - thank god you remembered to bring them out with you - and gesture down the hall to where Ashlyn is talking to some of her friends that came to see the show.

“I’m gonna give these back to Ashlyn, and I’ll meet you and our parents by the doors in like, two seconds.” He agrees, and you part ways.

“Thank you!” Ashlyn gasps when you hand her the shoes. “I was looking everywhere for these.”

She pauses, remembering how tense things got between you and Nini earlier before she left.

“Was everything okay with…” she trails off, jogging your memory.

“Oh,” you start, a little unsure of how to answer. “Yeah. Everything’s fine now.” You look off to the side, and she follows your gaze to Ricky. He’s talking to his dad and seems to be doing a lot better now, and you seem to be doing better too.

As you make your way down the hall and across the lobby you’re stopped by a woman you don’t recognize, but she seems to know you, addressing you by name as she introduces herself.

“I’m Kalyani Patel, the dean of the Youth Actors Conservatory in Denver. I’ve been following your career for some time, and I have to say, I’m very impressed. You’re incredibly talented and have a lot of notable credits for someone as young as you are. We have one more available place available for the upcoming semester, and we would be thrilled for you to attend.”

“Thank you so much, Kalyani. I’ve heard a lot about Youth Actors Conservatory, and I’m so honored by your offer, but I’m not planning on switching schools at the moment.” You say as graciously as you can.

“Of course, I understand.” She smiles.

“Thank you again for the opportunity, and I hope we can work together in the future.” You smile back, saying goodbye, and making your way over to Ricky and your parents.

After returning to the dressing rooms to write sad song lyrics and watch herself cry in the mirror, when Nina finally finds her moms in the lobby, she has a piece of good news for once.

“The dean of YAC!” she exclaims.

“I thought they were full, sweetie.” Carol says. She and Dana had gotten a rejection letter addressed to Nini a few days ago, and were trying to find the right time to break the news.

“She said a spot opened up,” she beams, “which means I’m going to YAC!”

Her moms hug her, congratulating her on the good news, and that they’d discuss it in detail at home. Nina looks over to where you and Ricky are standing. He holds your hands in his while you talk quietly. You have no idea that soon she’ll be out of here, and you’ll never see her again. She was on the fence, but after what he said to you, she’s made up her mind. She’s leaving this town, and going somewhere that she’ll be appreciated, somewhere she’s wanted. If that happens to be a boarding school in Colorado, then so be it. ‘Take a good look’, she thinks, ‘because that’s the last you’ll ever see of Nini Salazar-Roberts.’

After more mingling, congratulations, flowers, and playbill signing, you turn to Ricky.

“You ready to go home?” you ask, walking toward your car. He stops, turning to look at you.

“You know what? No.” he lets out a breathy laugh. “I don’t want to go home. I… want to go to Denny’s! I’m a theatre kid, and I just finished my first show, and it’s like, tradition to go to Denny’s, so I want to!” You smile at his sudden enthusiasm, laughter matching his.

“Yeah, okay,” you smile, “let’s go!”

You both walk over to your castmates, who are trying to figure out a carpool to get everyone there before it gets any later. You nudge Ricky.

“So, does anyone need a ride to Denny’s, or should we just meet you there?” he asks. For what feels like the millionth time, everyone erupts into cheers. You know all your friends were worried about him after what happened, and Seb instigates a group hug, that everyone quickly jumps on to. You think it’s important to end the night on a good note like this, spending time with your castmates, cramming into booths and singing obnoxiously in an empty restaurant. It’s sort of a rite of passage, and you’re glad that Ricky’s able to participate, especially after opening night of his first show.

You sleep over at his place that night. After everything Ricky’s been through, after he seems to finally be okay again, the last thing Mike wants to do is not let him spend time with someone he’s so close to - especially considering what a good influence Mike thinks you are on him. From what Ricky told him, you didn’t instigate any drama tonight, and spent every spare moment off stage trying to help Ricky through what was going on. It’s not the first time you’ve helped Ricky navigate the ups and downs of growing up in the time you’ve known him, so when Ricky asked if you could stay the night, he agreed. While you’re brushing your teeth, Mike pulls Ricky aside to talk.

“I spoke to Nini’s moms,” he starts, and Ricky braces himself. “They’re going to talk to her, and I said I’d talk to you to make sure these last shows go smoothly, alright? So, no more fights, no arguing, no more of this… reality tv stuff.”

“Believe me,” Ricky sighs, “I don’t want any more drama. Especially at the expense of the show.”

“I know,” Mike agrees. “So just… it’s only a few more shows. Try your best to…” he looks for the words.

“Politely avoid each other?” Ricky supplements.

“Exactly.” Mike nods. “Just politely avoid each other for a few more days, and all this will blow over.”

When he finally reenters his room, he hands you a t shirt to wear. He knows you probably brought pajamas, but he wants to tell you he loves you in as many ways as he can, like wearing his clothes. When you come back in and sit on his bed in his big shirt and your little shorts, he doesn’t think you’ve ever looked more beautiful.

“Do you want to talk about anything?” you ask tentatively.

“Not really,” he chuckles. “I feel like I’ve kind of talked it all to death by now.”

“You know what we haven’t talked about?” you ask, a look in your eye that immediately has his attention. “How Nina and EJ - but like, mostly Nina - ruined the finale of the show.”

“Yeah,” he starts, remembering how stunned he was. “What the fuck was that?”

You talk shit until you have nothing else to say about it, and soon you’re curled up under the covers together. You’re laughing and talking, and things almost feel normal again. It’s like every bad thing never happened tonight. He doesn’t know how you do it, how you make things feel so okay again, but he holds you tight, clinging onto the feeling. He was going to say it earlier, but he was so distracted by you, by how beautiful you are.

“I love you.” he says, pressing a kiss to your forehead. He feels you smile against his chest.

“I love you too, Ricky.”

You sound so content, so comfortable with him, and he feels like his heart is going to burst.

“I love you,” he says again, running his fingers along your waist.

“I love you too,” you giggle sleepily. Every time you think he’s asleep, he says it again, and again, and again. He can’t help himself, he loves the way you blush and giggle, loves how warm you are against him, loves the way you say it back to him. It’s quiet for a little while, but you feel his hands still tracing little shapes into your skin. You glance up at him to find him staring at you in that way that makes your stomach twist.

“Close your eyes,” you mutter, drowsy.

“But I love you.” he replies quietly, and you can hear the smile in his voice. “I love looking at you. I love everything about you.”

“I love you too,” you answer groggily, and he doesn’t think he’s ever felt better than he does when you say it like that. “But we have a full day of school in the morning, then homework, then another show to perform in, so we have to get at least a little sleep.”

“Yeah,” he sighs, eyes growing heavy as the day catches up to him. “As long as we have time for coffee and peach scones.”

“There is literally always time for coffee and peach scones.” he chuckles at how quickly you respond. You lean up, pressing a kiss to his nose, then snuggle back into his chest. It’s his favorite time of day again, he realizes, where he gets to sleep next to you, and kiss, and cuddle. Except this time, it’s better than it ever has been, because right before you fall asleep, he gets to say it.

“I love you.” he breathes, kissing your forehead.

“‘Love you too.” you mutter, barely awake. Your words reverberate and replay in his mind as he closes his eyes, finally drifting off. He doesn’t know how the next shows are going to go, he doesn't know what’s going to happen tomorrow, but he doesn’t care. He doesn’t care about what will happen when the sun rises, he’s just excited for it to happen with you. He sleeps better than he has in a long time.

#hsmtmts ricky #ricky bowen #ricky bowen x reader #hsmtmts #hsmtmts x reader #rocks at your window #I was watching the first episode and there were all the flashes and jumpscares of basment guy (idk his name) but I was like #'oh that guy? that's babyman. he's my neighbor :)'#I love that violet is both pro smoking and pro litter btw #bold stance

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wolves0nmars · 1 year

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american healthcare by penelope scott but make it leon s. kennedy.

verse 1, "when i was seven years old i saw a dead man in the road..." could relate to the early loss of his parents and leon's first experience with a police officer. plenty of children are exposed to violence at an early age, and leon is no exception. this experience desensitized him to violence and to cope with it he focused on the positive experience he had with that cop, and decided he wanted to be an officer in order to help people.

he helped claire, sherry, ashley, etc. there's actually kind of a pattern of him "saving" female characters and kind of affirming his own masculinity by doing so. this makes his interactions with ada and luis very interesting, the former of course being a woman that doesnt need his saving and the latter being a man that desperately needs his saving. but thats a conversation for another time.

and in the chorus of the song, "you corporate fucking prick, i did not become a doctor just to suck the devil's dick" relates to him a lot. because leon s kennedy sucks a lot of d---he has a lot of experiences with "corporate overlords", like simmons. but also this doesn't just apply to specific individuals. leon is in law enforcement because he wants to protect people. he was a police officer because he wanted to protect people, he is an agent because he wants to protect as many people around the world in the long run optimally in the most efficient way. but he consistently runs into the problem that his job as a police officer is not to protect people. its to protect private property. his job as an agent is not to protect people. its to protect corporate interests. he's in the wrong job.

i really hope we see leon be a firefighter or an emt some day. like, obviously hes a little old and definitely traumatized enough, but those are occupations where your job literally is just to help people, not keep corporate interests in mind.

and in verse 2 "I asked the right questions, i never even really got bored" relates to him really well too. leon quite easily slipped into his role as "right hand man", never wondering or asking just what exactly left hand was up to. because truthfully, he didn't want to know. he preferred the comfort that came with not knowing.

or in verse 3, "it trickled into both my ears, it got louder over the years, until all that i could hear were fuckin' flies" probably relates to leon the most out of any line from this song. it perfectly represents how incredibly corrupted leon has become. it's also worth mentioning how resident evil viruses do sometimes take the form of insects. you could kind of look at it like a direct parallel between government corruption and the viruses he's fighting. they're both equally parasitic, infectious, and harmful. i imagine sometimes leon just wishes he'd be infected finally, because it's better than this torturous process of corruption. in the pre chorus, she says "sometimes it's like they'd rather die" and i think sometimes it's like he'd rather die.

it's such a great song about american capitalism and how easily it can corrupt people's naive hopes and dreams of helping people. because leon s kennedy... has been corrupted. time and time again throughout the RE franchise we see commanding officers from private corporations, governments, law enforcement, etcetera being revealed as evil and every time... the main characters just kill the guy and get back to work. they never stop and consider... maybe it's not about just one guy. maybe its not about just this one individual that happened to be evil. maybe something made him evil... maybe something allowed him to be evil... and maybe its the exact same thing that i work for... or something like that idk lolllllll.

i really hope we see leon kind of "break the cycle" and have the kinds of realizations that are in this song because like... BITCH... that stupid little boy is lucky hes so pretty!!!

also im really sorry for derailing a song about a womans experience in academia and social services under capitalism and stuff to be about this white boy in the CIA... i hope this little analysis doesnt detract from the actual song. cause like... its a great song and we dont need to make it about leon stupid little bitch kennedy for it to be good.

#leon kennedy #leon s kennedy #leon scott kennedy #re #resident evil #re2 #re2r #resident evil 2 #resident evil 2 remake #re4 #re4r #resident evil 4 #resident evil 4 remake #re4make #re4 remake #sorry for making the dumb little zombie game about POLITICS #in MY VBIDEO GAME?#its more likely than you think

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snootsnooter · 8 months

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Nobody asked but I have thoughts and want to babble so y'all are my dubiously willing rubber duckies.

Thoughts on various Hazbin Hotel characters under the read more

Charlie - She's very cute, naive, and uber optimistic. Genuinely I'd call her a sweet little cinnamon roll. Though, that being said, so far she's felt like a pretty one dimensional character in the four episodes we've seen her. I really do hope she gets a little more characterization as the show goes on and that she doesn't end up with the same issue Millie from the sister Helluva Boss show has.

Vaggie - I really like her new design tbh! Characterization wise though I really wish we knew? Literally anything about her? The most we get is a hint that okay she died in 2014, she's Charlies gf, and has been involved in war / battles thanks to the classic group bonding episode. The only real interesting thing she might have going for her is? That she could POTENTIALLY be some fallen angel / ex exterminator, as per old hazbin headcanons claim, or that she might be one of Carmilla's daughters. Again I'm hoping she ends up getting more characterization soon and doesn't end up another Millie. Also why the hell does Husk and Angel Dust have more chemistry after episode 4 than Vaggie and her already established gf do? I'm??

Angel Dust - An interesting character for sure, and I'm very curious to see how his story plays out. Could do without him making everything sexual 24/7 but given the situation the character is in and how he tries to cope with it, it's whatever.

Alastor - Idk I actually don't really have a whole lot to say about him? Sure he's interesting, I want to know his motivations as to why an overlord like him is helping Charlie and why both he and Lilith were gone for 7 years but??? Idk I'm sort of indifferent to him at the current moment? He's kind of just the one note silly wacky chaos character with mysterious motives. I do really like his voice though!

Nifty - I thought I'd like her more than I do but? Honestly I don't really care for her at the moment. She's the typical yandere character but, again like most of the female characters in the Hellaverse, is kinda one note and ultimately forgettable. Nor do we know anything about her (yet).

Husk - Gonna be honest, this grumpy kitty had my heart from the pilot. He's def one of my favorite characters in the show, and personally I think his backstory of being, for lack of better terms, a fallen overlord is really interesting. For having been a gambling con man magician in his human life, I do have to wonder why he was chosen to be a cat rather than a rabbit? or perhaps a snake? Though I suppose the magician aspect of what originally went into his character had since been dropped, since they seem to have leaned more into him being just a gambler. His budding relationship with Angel Dust, whether be it as friends or eventual lovers, is very cute and very genuine tbh. Still questioning why they have more chemistry than Vaggie and Charlie but here we are. I also really adore his singing voice ough it's very smooth and very pleasant to listen to.

Velvette - oh lord I do NOT like this character, but then again, I don't really like any character that has the typical Bitchy Influencer tm type personality... Or any of those irl influencer type folks in general. Though I do want to know why? she was made english? I mean I understand a good portion of it is probably so that the three V's are unique in some way with Vox being the american one and Valentino the latino. Making her english certainly gives her that distinction from the other two, I suppose I'm just surprised they didn't go with the California valley girl type accent for her.

Valentino - vile, sleezy, disgusting, I love him. He's absolutely everything a villain like him should be. I'm personally super glad that his big red coat isn't? actually JUST a coat tbh? I think it's a super neat idea that it's actually his wings folded over his body and held together with either some sort of clamps (like the decorative enamel pins you'd find connecting both sides of the lapel on a leather jacket) or some kind of piercing.

Vox - oh no why is he my type.

#thoughts #hazbin hotel

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duckchu · 10 months

Text

I low-key want to write a multi chapter Kayn x reader, with reader being in my oc band, 1v1 😭 idk if I'll do it but I'm gonna do a meet the band

Gonna do it after I finish all the requests I have tho

And I still can't draw so thank god for picrew

Also just realised how much they differ from their Runeterra counterparts

1v1 is a 6 member girl group under Riot Entertainment

The members:

Ami

Main rapper and songwriter

Both of her parents are/were musicians (they're both champions, guess who, hint: one of them is only in a band because of the new tft set and the other is my HC)

Is willing to give advice

Though it's not necessarily good

Japanese

Dia

Lead vocalist & dancer

Was the lead at the beginning but then stepped down due to miscommunication with the company

Loves coffee

Protective of people she cares about

Used to be in a relationship with Yone, but they had a really bad breakup

Or did they?

American Japanese

Willow

Lead rapper and producer

Only joined because of her sister

In high school she thought she was friends with Kayn but it was mostly Rhaast

Always late

Fashionably so

Spends most of her money on clothes

Has to borrow money from her sister

Korean

Tiari

Main vocalist and leader

Loves the group to bits

Always wakes up early to make sure the others have eaten breakfast

Willow's older sister

Powerhouse vocalist and she knows it

Korean

Lily

Main dancer

The group is like a second family to her, they basically raised her

Hates avocados

Draws the groups album covers

Copes with stress by hugging

Loves being given affection

Acts really cute on camera but is really chill irl

Korean

Vanessa

Lead vocalist, sometimes dabbles in writing and producing

Don't tell anyone but she's a vampire

A huge flirt

It's not that she's a diva

She just likes attention

Love language is gift giving

Spends a lot of money on gifts for others

Expects at least something in return when it's her birthday

Chinese Korean

#Dukchu #league of legends #league of legends x reader #lol x reader #heartsteel x reader #heartsteel kayn #istg those tags will be relevant when i stop procrastinating #i love them so much #my babies #ocs #oc

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0ystercatcher · 4 months

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other america related comments. i actually kind of. think the car based city design isnt terrible. at least the area i was in was...very honestly perfectly walkable with the exceptions of some large intersections that were a little scary but, i mean, they had actually functioning stop lights which is more than what i can say for my nearest large intersection. also drivers respected us when we were walking around which was very weird and alien to me unironically and i managed to have only one kinda scary almost incident in the two weeks i was there which. again. i had several scary close almost incidents almost immediately after my arrival in lima so theyre 929192128 miles ahead of us already. yes not having a car there sucks bc even tho we had assorted stores in very short walking distance it would be... inconvenient to do a lot of things with no car (but this is the case anywhere that has roads) and somewhat...sparse? (though, much much safer and better organized and more comfortable) public transport. we didnt spend a lot of time in seattle itself so idk how stuff works in the "big city" (lol, considering theres only 2 cities in the us that even come close to mine in sprawl and population in the us and seattle isnt one of them) but it still seemed to be much more dominated by cars than anything else. still. i didnt hate it. even with rising car prices i think cars remain much more affordable in the states compared to here where they cost almost the same (tho president xi has been working hard to liberate us from this) and our wages arent in usd and they are much much lower on average so its kind of. whatever. yall can cope.

anyways my point is this shit is not nearly as bad as americans make it sound online bc they genuinely do have solid alternatives even if they are obviously less convenient than a car. like...seattle is very small and has similar density to lima. not so much for tacoma which at least from observation and a quick search is more sprawl-ey and low density + theres a freeway running literally down the middle of it which is fucking annoying but still i think...doable. not too bad. ive seen much much worse.

tldr i think the car based design was fine with a couple abslutely crazy exceptions (who builds two little roundabouts on bridges to exit/return to the freeway?????). at least theres some design involved in these things. the freeway / highway /whateverway is way less scary than i expected (my via expresa yellow line + panamericana sur trips have scarred me for life sorry) and the very few interactions i had with public transport were excellent despite the bus being mega early and missing it once. they still have like, a functioning app and shit so you at least Know what happened. can you believe that!

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robotsrawesome64 · 6 months

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Heyyyy saw you would like some COD matchups

I'm American, but my mother's side is Slavic. I'm white, 5'6, shoulder length brown hair. I wear glasses and have a coquette aesthetic. I'm not skinny but I'm not plus sized so idk what to call myself lol.

I'm quiet and come off and kinda weird when you don't know me (I have under developed social skills due to C-PTSD). I stay to myself, make jokes that don't even seem connected to the current interactions, have a hard time maintaining eye contact. I love space and art, I have ADHD, Bipolar, and C-PTSD. I'm extremely loyal, can see right through people's bullshit, and am extremely understanding of people's unconventional habits. When you get to know me, I'm more chaotic. Not in an "I'm so random🤪😎" way but "I have an idea, I've thought it 70% of the way through, and we will see how it goes together"

If I were in the COD universe I'd probably be a sniper. I know that's a basic answer but my reasons are due to my hypervigilence, good eye tracking, great at shooting (shoutout to Thanksgiving traditions), and preferance for overall quiet and strict environments.

My top 5 characters are Simon Riley, Nikto, Gaz, Konig (Canon, not fanon), and Krueger.

Feel free to ignore, ik that writing can be really draining!! <3

I matched you with....

KU-KU-KUH KRUUUEGER 📣📢♨️❗❓💢💯🆘

^graphic design is my passion

TYSM for the first ask :,,DD So I got carried away, gonna see if ur into it but if not give me a shout to remove any of the warning stuff/private it etc !! (this is on me lmao) dont wanna scare you off w warnings, its overall fluff but i gotta tag em correctly

W: bbgifying fictional war criminals, violence/murder(described Krueger kills hostiles, implication you have), intimidation(Krueger likes killing/is ego aggressive to hostiles/brief aggro jealousy to others), ally very wounded (brief, blood mention, theyll be ok offscreen dw), unexpected gunshot on the range(all g, it was an ally), stalker-y (lately announced presence, lies that the public german nickname 4u he uses isnt affectionate, pre-dating jealousy), vague bad mental health mention, getting triggered mention, unspecified negativeish Krueger coping mechanism, vigilance(nothing happens but ur partners wanted/tense mission), you guys shooting, long mandated proximity, brief 'is bad man?', worry, long read more, light cliffhanger + HC that you were assigned callsign 'Cere'!

(This is a delulu long 2 off, next inbox ask i get to im gonna chill & try bulletpoints instead :p)(req are closed rite now TYSM for them<3 !)

===============================================🌙

"You're assigned with Krueger? Oh, buddy." Your fellow KorTac operator eyes you with sympathy.

It was the equivalent of a teacher seating the 'troubled' kid next to the 'good, quiet' kid.

Flash back to pre-assignment: as soon as you met him you didn't need to look into any files to know he was a two-faced bitch. He was pretty socially inconspicuous if not for your watchful eye. Low-effort charisma, flattery, egotisical swagger. Heedless apathy if someone that wasn't helping him needed help. All the calm confidence in the world and he's always at least hiding some part of his face. So suspicious for a dude whose job is murder.

Krueger was 'friendly', but he wasn't the type to get invested in getting to know 'the team'. Meaning, once a blue moon when you both decide to stay in a social space together, the max of your interaction is him staring from across the room and snorting at you. A joke of yours had fell on someone's deaf ears and a solid 4 seconds later he chuckled at it. Or at you. Unclear. You'd felt his blatant gaze burning you through the hood as soon as you'd started talking. Anyway, now you both looked "weird".

Maybe it was a sniper thing? You couldn't afford to get rusty as you settled on the faction base's range; one eye closed to focus down the scope. That familar 'pchow' sound: hit. Cock, reload, hit, repeat. Hit. Hit-hit, wait what? What was supposed to be your target dents in front of you as you hear the same sound, but from along the range. Jesus christ. Someone else was practicing too. You still yourself and resume through their tampering/co-shooting. Once you've had your fill Krueger conveniently had too, revealing himself as your competitor to purr a praise at you as you passed by. "Very nice."

Anyway, that mission you two were sent on. Heavy snow, low hills and wind-swept shrubland before forest. Hostile base right in the middle in which you've been ordered to clear by any means. There was no way they'd be able to send in a team yet without getting spotted, which is where you guys came in. A sniper either side. Hit your shots; everything will be okay. Miss? There's only so many places it could've come from.

There was something beautiful in that moment in the calm before the storm. Only the crunch of snow as you settled into position, impossibly small as you painted the final dot in the break of snow back to white. Above you, an even wider sprawling landscape of almost clear blue sky with a few sparse strings of cloud. You could see the faint impression of the moon. And…another planet? Something smaller, stationary, glinting. It was possible to catch planets during the daytime, sure, but you might know that this wasn't their usual positions. You think you've just witnessed something very special.

Married to that sight was the chill of wind over your many layers, and Krueger muttering eerily calm communications in your ear via radio. It's not like sniper fire could be silent, but you had a window of opportunity with the suppressor temporarily hiding your position. You'd shoot together.

He slowly counted down like he enjoyed it. Regardless of his distracting yapping you both hit, and he shamelessly hissed praise as he eagerly loaded his next.

Cut to your report back, your half-smile fades at a joke that didn't land with your befuddled superior. Krueger snickers. This was a long-range mission. Somehow, you were standing to attention in front of them, half your sniper hood burnt up (??) and Krueger standing a little more lax next to you splattered in blood. Now- you had clutched the mission. Thanks to your half-plan in response to Krueger getting ahead of himself, in which upon your very stressed communication you both went all-in on.

You remember a moment in the scuffle in which you were pinned by the last hostile after rescuing a screaming damsel Krueger (you didn't know he hit that pitch). You half expected the knife stuck through your attackers neck to pierce you too, before Krueger threaded the needle and double-neutralized your attacker with a snap of the neck. Panting, he leant out a hand for you to take, with a tilt of his head. "Thank you, bruder." You'd worked surprisingly natural together come the highest pressure. He didn't want to die, and you wouldn't let him. But God, he gave you a headache.

To your dismay/morbid interest you were assigned as a duo together again. And again. And again. Through trial and error you got more and more used to how each-other worked on the field, to the point his more bloodlust-y spontaneous ventures seemed quite tempting. With the guidance of your planning, of course. You swear you could hear him smirk on the other side of the radio when you finally seemed just as enthusiastic as him. Others joining you on your assignments would have to scramble to keep up with the pace of your symbiosis.

When he wasn't screaming and shouting for his life from the consequences of his own actions/in combat/violently taunting his enemies with concerning egotistical aggression, it was quite peaceful. Something about being able to focus together, but apart. Beautiful landscapes to the sound of his soothing dry tone.

And so, sue you if you hung out a little more.

"Come; you're needed." He'd half-joke with a pat on your back if he saw you alone, inviting you to sit with him and Nikto. The life-or-death nature of your field didn't really breed cliques, it's just when you could pick, two other 'offputting' neurodivergents were much less exhausting (once you'd mostly figured they weren't planning to kill you). Sometimes Krueger would be trying to say something and both you and Nikto would lose focus and have a lighter episode at the same time, which could be funnily validating despite the circumstances.

Nikto's threateningly gruff, jovial energy was kind of infectious. It might just come up in conversation: your mother's heritage. Ooh, Russian? Was it Russian? Do you know a second language? Krueger participated in the conversation, but…fuck, why were you looking at Nikto like that? No, no, you should just learn German with him instead. You'll have enough time for it together when you travel for your next mission.

It was very few and far between where Krueger had given anyone a nickname. Acquaintance German speakers would give him weird looks when he called you 'asterisks/little star'- "Sternchen," with a lingering tone. He'd non-chalantly play it off when you asked, oh you know, explaining it meant star, like the callsign you got assigned. You might explain, oh no, 'Cere' is a dwarf planet.

"Oh, really?" He seemed very interested as your eyes lit up into conversation about something you seemed to like.

Upon your explanation, he thinks your callsign suited you very well. Cere: an exceptional astronomical body usually hidden to the human eye. The largest object in an asteroid belt in-between Mars and Jupiter; muddy and icy; sporting brines, carbonates and stunningly shiny cryovolcanoes. Incredibly underrated for a beautiful busy planet that screams potential life.

He still called you sternchen, ft. "Mein sternchen," that one time. He was aiming for a cutesy secret term of endearment, but 'asterisks' technically worked too. You were his 'yes, and'. Shit, was he really thinking like that? I mean, he wasn't totally shy to it. It's just most of his previous attractions were short-term and pretty baseless for a reason. Especially with co-workers that actually had an allegiance to who they were working for.

Which made it all the more natural for him to unblinkingly step over and in the pool of blood of the person you were both tasked to protect when he saw you go down. He shouted scolding concern as he rushed to help you out even though you weren't even half as hurt.

Or when you felt shit, to say the least. You were stationed together in Berlin for an unpredictably long wait for a high-priority target. A safehouse in the middle of plain sight with you guys on deck. Blend in as civillians, barely working, just…waiting to be called on. It felt like leave, except you were living with Krueger.

It was definitely a little stressful for him to be back in Germany. He didn't intially realize his unconscious unconventional coping mechanisms set you off too, until he did, and he was at your side if you ever needed something. Helping you wasn't a big deal as far as he was concerned; he didn't have the capacity for afflictive empathy to get particularly tired of it. He'd stare at you with a limited calculative look as he tried to think of what might make his (..work)partner a little better.

Oh, staring? It was a natural habit of his to unabashedly look right in the eyes of people he considered safe/close. Just outside he tried to keep his anonymity, but here he offered to also hide his face or something indoors whilst he checked himself for that habit. Wouldn't be anything new.

Neither was finding the right words to avoid misconception/upset; casually, calmly squashing any worries.

Or when he kept bouncing his leg after being in too long when he sat, and you met eyes whilst fidgeting yourself. Yeah, no-one needed to say it to know it was time to go out.

Just two solid, fit foreigners with inconsistent tan lines. Yeah, no pressure. Played it off as his American other-half visiting for the summer holiday, or something. Not that he at all minded. An older couple observing you when he used his nickname for you (it..just meant star, right?); when he put his hand on your back to guide you somewhere less dodgy; or when you both stood close like you liked him to inconspicuously mutter information. In one of those moments you thought he might be a bit too much of a natural at this.

But you couldn't exactly leave each-other; he spared the details but let you know the faces to look for. And when his description trailed off, he tried drawing instead. Uh, yeah, no offence, but you couldn't tell what that was. You tried instead for him, kind of like a police sketch artist. Regardless of whether you drew often or not, he'd walk a little closer in interest, hand on the back of your seat to look over your shoulder with an impressed noise. "You made them too handsome, sternchen. That-oh yeah, much better." He'd joke.

Art was a pretty good way to fill the time. Alongside Krueger teaching you a little German to apply it later- maybe at a till. If you wanted to buy paints or something, go crazy. Company money, right? Fashion was fun, too. Unsure if you'd ever get the opportunity again to have packed nice-nice clothes for a job. Unlike him; he was underdressed compared to you. Sometimes literally.

Whenever the sunlight beamed in through your little window at the right time of day, he'd lay in it like a cat, sleeveless/ shirtless if you were comfortable. Men. Which was of note since he couldn't exactly flash them outside, but aside from the few scars (a couple of which you remember how he got them.) he had some cool (..?) tattoos. Shame he couldn't get one from you. Not that he'd back out if you busted out the ol' stick and poke. But hey, plenty of empty space left for illustratory practice to bide the time?

Time seemed to go quicker. Krueger singing under his breath around the small flat-thing as he tried to occupy himself; laying next to you on the floor when you felt bad; routine window sunbathing; eagerly crafting an elaborate game with you via worryingly stacked things from around the place just to take aggressive turns with each-other making it break everywhere and fall. It was the human equivalent of two ping pong balls in a box. His stories being your podcast as you did art; him sitting still-ish for you and being amused by the cute bow he'd been awarded to his bicep (not that he could compare to your style); loosely giving his hands back to you behind his head so you could fidget with or hold them, whatever you want.

If you liked him back? He confidently didn't think it was just an act of care anymore from the way your gaze lingered on him- which he reciprocated. He'd speak back calmly and try to hide the twitch of a smile with a satisfied tilt back of his head.

He'd hold you like he would've done anyway if you needed him, with the added flair of lulling his head to rest against next to yours as he calmly talked your ear off before bed. Maybe as he lightly traced your cheek where his hand laid, if he felt braver.

Your shared enemies always seemed to go down harder, more violently. Other operators caught snarky comments.

You weren't quite sure how it'd all come to an official head, or not. But as far as you were concerned, with your head on his shoulder, it wasn't too bad to be assigned with Sebastian Krueger.

#cod matchup #cod #call of duty #cod x reader #sebastian krueger #cod krueger #krueger x reader #ive done priv keegs/anon 2k now krueger/anon 2k #holy crapoli #jamies next then gemini lady >:D #im nervouuuseeeee #keep readings broken omfg its fucking w my POST #64sshit

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