#Sometimes I drink or smoke but that's kinda the same I guess?

[missshame]

I'm feeling like shit and I'm 24 with no idea how to make me feel better lol

[keresnotceres]

Good, Good, Great

Ghost x Fem!Reader (And they were roommates)!

[nsfw] cw(s): Jealousy, alcohol consumption, references to smoking, strip club, rdr calls ghost ‘big boy’ several times, suggestive content, non-explicit sex (it’s mentioned), rdr is highkey a brat lol, mention of dumbification.

PART TWO

3.4k words I don’t understand how UK currency works so i guessed, ALSO! Reader is kind of a slut!! Because we don’t get enough readers that have BEEN AROUND TOWN (iykwim) and I am hellbent on fixing that :) ALSO ALSO this kinda sucks and it’s prolly OOC but I spent like four days on it so here u go <33

You’re not dating — but he’s not keen on sharing. He sees you serving another table drinks, scantily dressed, hips swaying with every step, and can’t help but watch with a glare as some other man sets a 20 between your tits.

How Laswell convinced both herself and Price that a strip club was the best place to meet and discuss information on a new mission was beyond Ghost. It wasn’t until two blocks away from the venue did he begin to recognize the surroundings, the streets, and damn it, even the people.

He forwent the skull mask and the skull-patterned balaclava for a plain black surgical mask that left him feeling bare and exposed. Only a thin piece of fabric was between him and his anonymity; two strings that held together the Ghost façade from falling into Simon.

He’d be damned if he told the others that he recognized the club — that he frequented it. Not for a certain stripper, no, not for the girls performing at all. He knew every staff member from the amount of times he’d come to pick you up after your serving shift.

You always smelled like alcohol and someone’s blueberry vape, sometimes weed; you claimed that just came with the job. He’d respond asking if he smelled like gunpowder and metal, if that was the case. He remembered how you shook your head.

“You smell like cigarettes and aftershave.”

He grimaces as they approach the shining lights of the club. Myth is a looming building; five floors, only two used for actual club affairs. The other three were offices or something equally as boring; even if you would prattle on about your outlandish suspicions of a mafia being run up there.

The first floor had the basics; a main stage that was across from the full bar, a plethora of sleek tables and uncomfortable leather chairs filling the space between the two attractions. On the far wall, a few booths with itchy velour couches separated by fake bushes. Doors sat on either side of the four booths, both led to some sort of VIP room that Ghost had never stepped foot in.

The second floor overlooked the stage section of the first, only the dancers could see the people decorating the steel railings. It was usually reserved for the rich people, the important men who had had wives and didn’t want to be seen in the public eye, the men who were desperate enough to pay extra to pretend they could get some, and the people staff liked. Ghost happens to fit into the latter category.

There was a second stage on the upper floor, it wasn’t often dancers were up there performing, they were usually lounging around with someone they knew would paid them well. The was a second, smaller bar which served the singular purpose of storing new bottles, which caused you to complain about having to go up and down the stairs every time you had to get another round for a table.

His constant presence had led to him “befriending” the bartenders (if getting a free drink counted as being friends) and getting half-hired as security (he was roughly the same size as the men they already had for the job), even the hostesses knew to assign him to your section each time he walked in.

It baffled him, to say the least. Even after he was gone for 11 months the one time, (what a god awful time that was), the Myth staff knew who he was.

Ghost didn’t even register Price trying to tell him to stop as he walked to the shiny glass doors of Myth. The thing that dragged him out of an absentminded state was Soap’s obnoxiously loud laughter, Ghost stopped dead in his tracks and spun around to face the rest of the task force.

“Yae walkin’ right in like ye own the place, eh, Lt?” He had a conniving grin on his face. “Didnae take you for that kinda guy.” Gaz looked like he was trying to picture Ghost in a club, Price only looked at him with mild amusement on his face.

Ghost glares at Soap, embarrassed. “I’m going where we were told to go.”

“Wasting no time, either.” Gaz manages to crack a smile from Price with his chide.

“Are we going in, or not?” Ghost’s eyebrows raise in questioning, his patience already running thin. He looked over his shoulder at the bouncer, who he wishes he didn’t recognize as Paul.

Gaz had already fished his ID out of his pockets, the graying white background of the Royal Air Force card reflecting the sign lights. Soap wasn’t far behind him, most people who see someone with a mohawk assume it’s a teenager who lost a bet. Anyone could look at the Captain and know he’s over the age of 18, no college student could rival the man’s facial hair.

And Ghost? All he had to do was look Paul in the eyes and he was let though without even a second glance. It was no different than if he were just coming in to pick you up, although it was considerably earlier than your usual 2 AM clock outs. Ghost forgot the club was even open at 5 PM.

He got an odd look from Soap at the lack of identification, but odd looks from Soap were a daily occurance.

The club looked the exact same as when he’d left 4 months ago, the same blue-purple lighting, same ugly silver bead curtains hanging over the walls, and the same Thursday night bartender. His name was something along the lines of Tony (Tim?); Ghost hadn’t particularly cared about him, he’s never at the club on Thursdays anyway. Your shifts are normally on the weekends, only the occasional Thursday if there was an event.

The hostess seems to be familiar, too. She’s either Camille or Angelica; he could never really remember who was who. The two have the same bleach blonde, blue eyes, and freckles; they’re practically the same person to Ghost. He really only pays attention to you when he’s at Myth.

The hostess stares at Ghost for a second, as if trying to recognize him. Before she could try to speak, Price cut in.

“We’re meeting someone here. Blonde hair, a little older.” His eyes scan the half-empty floor of the room. “She might be upstairs?”

The hostess perks up at the mention of a woman. “Right. Follow me, please.”

The blonde led the group of them upstairs, two of the 20 tables had people at them. Only one of them had a Laswell-looking woman at them. The other was a group of seven men; each in a suit, and each with a glass in their hand.

Once the hostess set a few menus on the table, she spoke a final time. “Your server will be right over.”

Ghost let the others sit down before him, eyes lingering on the group of men across from them before they slid over to Laswell. She looked as comfortable as any other person in a strip club by choice, lounging back in her chair with a cocktail in her hand.

“You look disgruntled,” she notes, eyes resting on Ghost.

“You had us meet in a strip club,” Ghost mutters. “This isn’t my usual scene.” It was quite the lie, really. He’s spent more time here than any other pub in the Manchester area at this point.

“It’s close to home.” She takes a sip of her drink, completely at peace. “And it’s unsuspecting. Who comes into a strip club to talk about top secret information?”

Ghost looks at her, unamused. “Us.”

Laswell ignores the distaste in his voice. “You don’t have to worry about that group,” her head tilts in the direction of the rowdy group of men. “They’re all drunk or too focused on the girls to even bother listening to us.”

The distant sound of heels against the floor catches his attention, his eyes fly towards the staircase. And there you are, flouncing up the stairs with three glasses in one hand and a bottle of Blue Label in the other.

You make your way to the group of men, a customer service smile plastered on your face. Ghost can’t hear your words, but he watches you set the bottle down in front of the most important-looking man, along with two of the glasses you were carrying.

He watches as your shoulders bounce when you laugh at something he says, though it looks like the fakest giggle you can muster.

He watches as the man takes a 20 pound note from his pocket and tucks it right between your tits. On instinct, Ghost’s hands tighten into fists and he glares. It’s a sharp glare, one he’d give to some idiot recruit that tried being cocky. You gasp, then smile brightly at the man, he can tell you’re saying thank you profusely from the way your mouth is moving.

You step away from the man and Ghost’s eyes fly from him to you, and his glare drops into a normal enough look, but his fists are still tight; his fingernails dig into the palms of his hands.

Ghost’s eyes roam your body, how the little black skirt you’re wearing rode up just enough that it would be considered a tease, how the black shirt you’re wearing is just a little too tight around your tits, and the 20 pound note that was stuck right between the two of them. He had to consciously unclench his fist before anyone would notice.

Then you come prancing over, hips swaying almost hypnotically as you walk, a glass of bourbon nestled in your hand.

You smile sweetly as you bend down in front of him, showing off both your tits and the note right between them, and set his glass on the table.

“I believe that’s for you, big boy.” Fuck, he missed hearing your voice, the nickname flies over his head through his stupor. Even if it was the faux, sultry version of it you used for work. “Can I get the rest of you anything? A beer? Whiskey?”

It was almost impossible for Ghost to tear his eyes away from you, rather, that damn note between your breasts. He wanted to pluck it out and throw it right back at the other man, replace it with something bigger, better.

When he notices Gaz’s disturbed stare, his eyes avert from you.

Gaz’s eyes trail from his to yours, “I’ll take a Manhattan.”

You smile at him, “of course, is Sazerzac okay?” Gaz nods shortly, glancing away from you to avoid Ghost’s stare. “Anyone else?” You pivot towards Price, shifting your weight from one leg to the other.

Price angles his head to meet your gaze, squinting through the LEDs of the club. “Gin and tonic,” his eyes don’t leave yours, “Hendrick’s.” An offhand comment from Soap entertains the liquor’s Scottish origins.

You nod along with his words, then tilt your head towards Soap. “Can I get you anything?”

“I’ll have a Coke.”

“I hope you mean the soda,” you muse. You didn’t get any reaction out of the group, not a single smile — how disappointing. “We have the cherry kind, if you’re into that.”

Soap shakes his head, a small frown on his face. “Just normal Coke’ll do.”

You hum absentmindedly, “alright.” Your eyes flicker to Ghost, the smile on your face contorts into a little mischievous one. “Are you going to be wanting the bottle, Simon?”

You really are a vixen, aren’t you? Through grit teeth, Ghost spits out, “no.”

“Alright, then. I’ll be back with those drinks, boys.” A single wink, and you were off. Low heels clacking against the tile floor, hips swaying side to side. Ghost was all too aware of every detail of your retreating body, from the way your hair bounced with each step you took, how the skirt you wore rode up just slightly enough to make his grip on his bourbon tighten.

Ghost fights the urge to get up, grab you by the waist, and pull you onto him. Both his experiences and his logical reasoning say it’s a terrible idea, yet the idea of reminding you who you ultimately belong to is so enticing he could be drooling.

He’s seen you cockdumb; it almost always comes after you pull a stunt like this. Of course, he knows you do it just for the sake of getting him bothered and getting fucked stupid. But he also likes the idea that you do it just for him. You put on a little show.

He finally put it together years ago. Back when you would bring over some pathetic-looking hookup just to see his reaction. When you’d fake moan loud enough for the whole damn neighborhood to hear, then look at him the next morning through your eyelashes all innocent.

At some point, the hookups ended, and you began flirting with customers right in front of him. Just like you had done a moment before.

When your head disappears from view, Soap is the first to attack him vocally, almost gawking after you. “You’re on a first name basis with the bottle girls at a strip club?” He looks incredulously at Ghost, almost jealous.

“Is that why you were in such a hurry to get inside? You knew this was where your flings worked?”

Soap leans in closer, “how often do you come here, LT?” It was question after question from the Scotsman, and despite his inclination towards him, Ghost was getting slowly more fed up.

Ghost set his glass down, “I’m going to the bathroom.” He put his hands to his knees and stood up from the plush seat, eyes scanning the other group one more time before he left his teammates at the table.

It doesn’t take long for him to find you, leaning up against the doorframe to the server’s closet while you wait for another cocktail server to put in a ticket, twiddling your coworker’s Elfbar in your hands until she reaches behind her for the vape.

You hand it off to her and turn to face Ghost, a catty smile adorning your lips. “How can I help you, sir?” Ghost stops a few inches before you and a hand darts towards your cleavage. He tugs the 20 pound note from between your tits, your hands following his to grab for it.

You give Ghost several noises of grievances as he holds the note away from you, a look of slight disgust evident in the ways his eyes narrowed and his brows furrowed.

By the time you gave up trying to reach the banknote, he’d begun digging in his back pocket. “I’d like my tip back, asshole.”

Ghost says nothing in return, no noise or gesture to acknowledge he had heard you. Instead, he tugs a 20 and a 50 pound note from his pocket and tuck the two bills into the space between your breasts. The money from the other man was crumpled and shoved back into his pocket.

You don’t stop him, you’re a bit too turned on to even think of stepping away from him.

“There,” he mutters. “your tip.” He steps back from you, like he was going to leave and go back to his table. You, however, were having none of that.

“Hold on.” Your hand twitches, stopping before it could shoot out to grab his wrist (but you’re smarter than that, you know him). “You didn’t call or anything.”

Ghost frowns under the mask. “I’m not home.” It was a clipped reply, not one you wanted.

“What?” You match his frown, annoyed.

“I’m here for work. You saw the others,” his hand gestures vaguely to the upstairs, “they’re my coworkers.”

You raise an eyebrow, “you work with someone who has a mohawk?” Disappointment flickers in Ghost’s eyes, if it was from your question or just the thought of Soap’s haircut, you didn’t know. The poor man isn't even there to defend himself.

“Is it that hard to believe?” Ghost knows that, yes, it is hard to believe that he worked with a Scotsman with a terrible haircut while continuing to be the infamous Lieutenant ‘Ghost.’

The look on your face screams ‘yes.’

Ghost relents, “listen.” His voice has a certain sadness in it that makes you calm down a bit. Truthfully, you’re pretty damn pissed at him for just showing up out of the blue from God-knows-where, but your expression softens after a few seconds.

“You’re gonna be the death of me, Riley.” Your coworker nudges your shoulder to let you know it was your turn to use the kiosk. “Go back to your friends,” you wave your hand in a dismissive fashion. “I’m working.”

Ghost doesn’t budge, even after you’ve ducked between the bead curtains that dangle at the top half of the doorway. You pop back out of the doorway, an unsurprised look on your face.

“Don’t flirt with him.”

Your eyebrows fly up, an incredulous tone flooding your voice. “What?”

“Don’t flirt with him,” Ghost repeats, his eyes boring into yours.

You set a hand on your hip, annoyed. “I’m making money.” The look in his eyes doesn’t change, he’s utterly serious about some random man you’re flirting with for extra cash. A thought crosses your mind, and your annoyance melts into mischief.

“You’re jealous over him?” The way his eyes widen a bit is enough to tell you that, yeah, he is. “Really, big boy?”

And fuck, if you didn’t have him wrapped around your finger by the way you walked, you had him now. All it took was one stupid nickname and Ghost is crumbling into Simon.

“Not jealous,” is his defense. You just soak it in with a grin on your face. You step towards him a little, shoulders forward and leaning down ever so slightly so that your cleavage is a little more obvious, so that the money he stuck between your tits is poking right out at him.

“You sure?” You look up at him, still grinning like your coworker once had when she got a free vape from a customer. “Seems like you’re a bit jealous.”

All he can do is stare down at you, clenching his jaw shut lest he say something he really shouldn’t. But God, does he wish he could.

Really, if it weren’t only 5 PM, he would’ve let you get to him. Let you drag him into an empty VIP room and fuck your words right out of you, leaving you a whimpering, babbling mess. But Ghost — Simon — knows better than to incapacitate you when you’re working.

All he’s left to do is watch as you give him little smirks from across the room, as you adjust your clothes to be just a bit more revealing, as you get close enough that he can smell the remnants of your perfume when you ask him aimless questions. And that’s just what he’ll do once you prance off to get his teammates drinks.

You pat him on his covered cheek patronizingly before you slink away, outstretching your hands for the three drinks cluttered at one side behind the bar. You pass him by, drinks in hand.

“If anything,” you look up to his eyes as you pass him, “it’s the guys you’re with you should be jealous of. You know I like older guys.” That’s enough for Simon to be reclaimed by Ghost.

He follows after you, glowering at your back. You don’t have to look back at him to know he’s scowling at you, but it brings you a slight bit of satisfaction.

“C’mon, big boy,” you hum, “I’ll get you another drink if you tell me his name.” You look back at him once you reach the staircase and climb a few steps ahead of him.

Ghost stares into your eyes like a dead man, you almost think you’ve gone a bit too far. “No.”

You give him an exaggerated pout and turn back to the front to see where you’re going. “If you aren’t jealous, you shouldn’t have a problem with it.”

“No,” he huffs, irritation growing steadily. “Ask again and I’ll have your head.”

You quicken your pace on the last few steps, skirt bouncing from the motion; Ghost doesn’t bother to look away. He follows you back to the table where Laswell and the others are chatting quietly.

You lean down to set the drinks on the table, and Ghost takes his chance. His hands hover around your hips, bulge brushing against your ass as he moves behind you to sit down in his seat.

“Sorry,” he muses in the most unapologetic tone you’ve ever heard from him. It’s Simon’s eyes that look into yours, like a challenge. A really, really horny challenge. “Had to get past you.”

[empresskylo]

Any ideas for ghost headcanons part two? 🥹😊 I love your personification of him!! Your writing is great!

(I also loved that konig brings you a tea or drink everytime he makes one for himself I like cried reading that)

more ghost headcanons!!! some headcanons mention reader being afab. some are nsfw. [previous ghost headcanons] (also thank you sm anon!!!)

♡ he's clingy af. but like, not in a needy way, more in a 'he just wants to be around you' way. he just likes to be in your presence. sometimes you think you might be boring him because you're just sitting there reading while he watches you, but he could leave at any time. he's choosing to just sit there in silence with you because he cant help but be around you.

♡ he kind of just hovers around you. he won't even realize he's doing it half the time. you'll get up to leave the room and he'll follow suit. "simon?" "hmm?" "why are you following me? I'm just going to the bathroom." "oh... I--I don't know."

♡ you stood up, stretching your arms above your head in a yawn. "i think i'm gonna go shower," you mumbled. simon got up from his seat, following you to the bathroom. "yeah, guess I could use a wash." you turned to him and raised a brow. was he inviting himself to partake in your shower? you stood a bit dumbfounded in the bathroom as simon began to strip his clothes immediately. in just his boxers he halted. "What?" he asked realizing you were simply staring at him. "you're joining my shower?" you asked. you weren't sure why, but simon's instinctual reaction assuming he was doing whatever you were doing surprised you. "don't worry, love. i'm not comin' on to you." he paused. "unless you want me to." you swatted his arm making him chuckle. he reached down and began to help you take off your shirt.

♡ he's a good cook. he's always enjoyed cooking though he doesn't get the chance to do it often. he got soooo nervous the first time he cooked anything for you. it's just something he finds really personal, so sharing it with another person made him feel a bit vulnerable. but of course, you loved whatever he made.

♡ his hair is always a mess. not only because of his mask messing his hair up, but because he's so used to having it on, he doesn't know what to do with his hair when it's not hidden by his mask. he doesn't like when it gets too long, but he also can't be bothered to cut it all the time so it frequently gets kinda shaggy.

♡ the same goes for his scruff. he gets kinda lazy about his physical appearance and so he doesn't shave that often. he doesn't usually like when he grows a full-on beard (it gets itchy under his mask) but he almost always has stubble. his hair grows so fast and thick too. like even if he shaved in the morning, by that night, his face is scratchy with stubble again.

♡ he definitely has body hair too btw (; he's got a slightly hairy chest. a nice lil happy trail. there's no way he'd every shave his chest either. he already struggles finding time to shave his face. he's just a very manly man. lots of hair....

♡ idk this is so random but he bites his nails. he does it a lot at night when he's laying in bed, just thinking. his mind tends to keep him up at night, thinking about all the shit he doesn't want to think about. it's a bad habit but it's the last thing he's worried about.

♡ speaking of bad habits, i think he's probably a smoker. not a heavy smoker, which would fuck with his lungs thus fucking with his stamina. but he likes the occasional cig. he more so smokes when he's extra stressed out. you'll often find him smoking outside the night before a big mission, his mask pushed up to his nose as he takes a hit. he smokes a lot with price too, who usually has a cigar.

♡ he is very handsy. maybe it has something to do with his trauma—he feels like you’ll disappear if he lets you go—but he always likes to have physical contact with you. he’ll walk past you and let his hand brush across your back. he likes to pull you into his side, his arm wrapped around your waist. he will aimlessly rub circles on your thigh when you sit next to him. he doesn’t even realize he’s doing it but he’ll slowly pull you closer until you’re on his lap. he wraps both arms around you when you sleep in his bed—you both always wake up tangled in the morning. likes to kiss your forehead, the top of your head, your cheeks, your hand, your fingers, just everywhere on you, whenever he can. But he doesn’t love pda. so that means he won’t kiss all over you when someone else is around, but his wandering hands still somehow find their way to you, holding yours or resting on the small of your back.

𝐍𝐒𝐅𝐖 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐁𝐄𝐋𝐎𝐖

♡ likes to make you beg for it.

♡ he likes seeing you on your knees, absolutely a mess, pleading, begging for him to touch you. he enjoys making you work for it. he’ll let you suffer, bringing you to the edge just to stop and demand you tell him what he wants to hear.

♡ but that’s not to say he doesn’t like when you take revenge on him. you enjoy riling him up, making him shift his pants while you two are in public because you’ve been teasing the fuck out of him. and when you’re finally behind closed doors, you don’t let him touch you. you don’t let him anywhere near you until he falls to his knees and begs you for it. begs you to let him touch you. begs you to kiss him. begs for your permission to touch himself. begs you to let him take off your clothes. and only then, do you let him devour you, only giving you pleasure. no, he can’t come until you allow it. and honestly, simon never thought this would be his style, he definitely always preferred to be the dominant one. but something about you making him a helplessly devoted fool makes him revel in the way you can get him to succumb to you.

♡ likes to fuck you from behind (-: he loves getting a good grip on your hair, yanking you back into him as his other hand leaves bruises on your hips. and fuck if he doesn’t leave bruises all over you. your hips, chest, arms, legs, neck, just everywhere. and sometimes he feels bad after, thinking he was a bit too rough with you, but he always gets a weird swell of butterflies whenever someone else sees your bruises (knowing exactly how you got them) and seeing you get all flustered.

♡ and speaking of feeling bad about being too rough, he definitely gets dom drop (aka emotional exhaustion/feeling of guilt or depression after dominant sex). this makes him very clingy and cuddly after, always double-checking to make sure he didn't go too hard on you.

♡ he is also really good at aftercare. he will immediately clean you up, carry you to the shower, or bring out a warm washcloth. he helps you change into comfy clothes, brushes your hair, then pulls you into him so he can wrap his body around you and hold you as you both lay in bed.

♡ as much as he likes receiving, he fucking loves giving. he loves to go down on you. he fucking loves knowing he's the one making you come apart like that. loves knowing you're moaning his name because of what he's doing. goes crazy when you drag your fingers through his hair, tugging on him when he starts to suck on your clit. he often hums against you in pleasure, getting off solely from the fact that you're getting off just from his tongue.

♡ very possessive. and he often exhibits this during sex. he gets off on the fact that you're his.

♡ "say you're mine," he demands as he thrusts in and out of you. your mind is so lost in a haze you barely hear what he says. simon stops, making you whine before he speaks low and slow. "say. you're. mine." you shift under his weight, moving your hips around, making him growl. "i'm yours, simon. only yours," you pant. a sly grin forms on simon's face before he starts pounding into you relentlessly.

♡ my guy's got a bit of a breeding kink. (i don't think he necessarily wants kids. maybe in another life. but in this one, he's so committed to his job that he'd never be able to raise a kid. he'd feel especially guilty if anything ever happened to him, cutting his time with his kid short) that being said, he loves the idea of breeding you. he likes to come inside you till you overflow. likes the idea of him knocking you up.

♡ "gonna fill you up, yeah? i won't stop till you're fuckin' overflowing, love. you gonna be a good girl and take it all for me?"

♡ he's very talkative during sex. always mumbling something vulgar or demanding things from you. that, or he's muttering little praises.

♡ "you like that, baby?" "fuck, you're so tight." "god, i love it when you do that." "this feel good, yeah?" "you can cry all you want, i'm not stopping till you come again." "you're taking me so well." "tell me how much you want it." "say my name, baby." "fuck, you're squeezing me so god damn tight." "want me to make you come again?" "want me to stop, hm? no? then let me hear you beg for it." "don't keep those noises from me" "look at me." "don't you dare look away now."

[mini-ism]

#— LIT CIGARETTES.

paring: gallagher x gn!reader (female anatomy, no use of “breasts”)

words: 3.1k

synopsis: gallagher meets a companion that he invites on a smoke break.

warnings: MDNI! intoxication, p in v, dubcon, alcohol, semi-forced smoking, smoking, cigarettes, kinda OOC?, choking, wrist binding, cunnilingus, light degradation, spanking.

DARK CONTENT AHEAD, DISCRETION ADVISED!!

flick, flick…,

the haze of fresh smoke covered his face as he leaned against the stone wall. the golden hour of penacony was ever-bustling. gallagher took a long drag from the cigarette, taking it out of his mouth with his index and thumb, ashing it slightly, and exhaling the smoke.

a cigarette every so often was refreshing, sometimes soulglad can be sickening. or at least to gallagher, though he might be the sole believer of that. damn near every night was the same, “can i get uh… soulglad?” another drunken patron slurred. the face of this patron is just as muddled as their voice. likely because every night, every person asked for a bottle of soulglad. gallagher obliged, as it was his duty, finishing wiping a glass, then uncapping a fizzy bottle of the drink, and passing it to them without a complaint or a mere word.

he took another puff, a longer one. he sighed, murky grey clouds leaving his mouth and nostrils. he put the cigarette back into his mouth, brushing his long, brown hair out of his eyes, savoring every intoxicating breath. he crushed he butt beneath his shoe, tobacco smearing onto penacony’s smooth pavement, watching it fizzle from existence. another benefit of the dream, one could assume.

he scratched at the stubble on his jawline, walking back into one of the many bars he frequently bartended at, bracing himself to serve more damn soulglad for the nth time tonight.

the chestnut-brown hair on his shoulders bounced as he strode back inside, music blaring a bit too loudly for his liking. he cracked his neck, then his gloved knuckles, and made his way behind the counter.

“how was your break?” a coworker inquired, “you smell like smoke.”

“it was alright, i guess. nothin’ too special.” he spoke, “is that a bad thing?”

music rang in his ears as he wiped down a few more glasses. the same coworker tapped on his shoulder after a few moments, “gallagher, look to your left. total cutie over there.”

gallagher wasn’t the type to pay attention to anyone’s looks. he listened. that was simply his job. he just so happened to look to his left, grumbling slightly. “i mean, they’re alright. what’dya want me to say?”

“come on, man, just have fun for once. i get that this is your job, but it never hurts to bend the rules a lil’, huh?” they responded, “i’ll give you like, 200 credits if you talk to them.”

“make it 500 and i might.” he joked, watching as his bartending partner pulled exactly 500 credits out of their breastpocket, slipping it into his pocket.

“do it,” they snickered.

he watched as you settled into your seat at the bar, waving to your friend from across the club. “anything i can get you tonight?” a voice rung from behind you, slightly raspy, yet smooth, and tired.

he was just as tired-looking as his voice led you to believe, “well, firstly, are you okay?” you asked curiously, hands resting on the edge of the marbled countertop.

“yeah, i’m alright. is there anything i can do for you?” he asked again, his amber-colored eyes focused on you, accented by his eyebags that happened to be deeper than oceans. he was visibly aged, and had scars littered all over him.

in the quiet moment you were investigating his appearance, he too was “checking you out.” you looked nice, now that you were in front of him. his vision wasn’t the best nowadays, but it suffices well enough to delineate all the delicate features painted onto your skin and your face. he liked that.

“could i get a crimson sunset?” finally, something that wasn’t a fucking soulglad.

“sure thing, not a problem.” gallagher grabbed a glass with his hand, pouring a mixture of syrups, drinks, and spirits into the glass masterfully. he smiled tiredly at you, passing the drink to you on a red napkin. the drink itself was a pretty red-orange color that faded into a deep purple.

“mind if i get myself a drink?”

“are you allowed to do that?” you replied.

“well, i mean, never hurts to bend the rules a lil’, yeah?” he answered, unintentionally charismatically.

his accidental confidence made you laugh slightly, “go ahead, mister…?”

“gallagher,” he said, pouring himself his own drink. he isn’t mixing it with anything, just straight alcohol from the bottle into the same type of glass you have in your hand, “no need to be so formal. you can just call me gallagher.”

“alright, gallagher, it’s nice to meet you.” you grinned brightly, taking note of the faint smile painting his features and lighting up his dull eyes.

“it’s nice to meet you too… ah…” he trails off.

“(your name).” you replied, giggling slightly as you take a sip from your drink, admiring the complex profile of gallagher’s mixing skills, “by the way, this is really good.”

“thanks,” he shuffles awkwardly, mimicking you by taking a swig of his own drink, “it’s really nothin’ though, just a lil’ bit of gallagher magic.”

he watches as you sip from your drink again, raising his glass again and finishing the rest of the liquid inside. he can feel the alcohol burning in his throat as he drinks it down hungrily, blurring his own mind as you start to talk again. he’s listening, but not a word is registering in his head. gallagher refills his glass with a more potent drink, leaning over the counter and propping himself up with his toned forearms.

“…and that’s how i ended up here, with my friend,” you finished off, the mix starting to get to your head too. he has no idea you could be such a talker, it almost makes him want to shut you up, but that’s not nice and he should play fair! he never does anyways.

“well, ain’t that a story!” he laughs, sipping on his own concoction again, flashing a grin, “here, lemme getcha another drink, it’ll be on me, hun.”

“thank you, gallagher!” you smiled drunkenly, watching him show off his mastery of mixology like it’s a performing art, pouring the beautiful mixture into your new glass.

“mmmn, what? you like the way i do that, eh?” he teased, leaning over the marble counter again, sliding you the glass, “so what if i do?” you teased back, your words starting to slur together to form one big super-word.

“i can do it again for ya, if ya like,” he breathed, his tired eyes starting to look more like bedroom eyes.

“really? can you?” you nearly begged, awe-struck at his sheer skill.

“yeah, i can show you everything i can do. ‘m not jus’ good at mixin’ drinks, y’know?” he said, sending a shiver down your spine, making your back nearly arch with just a single sentence. he looked at you again, greedily sipping his drink, his eyes imploring you to do the same without a single word from him. you do just as they say, watching the spark ignite within his pupils like a flick of a lighter. his lips curl into a smile as he finishes his mahogany colored concoction, a marvel of alcoholic creativity. you cough slightly as you finish up your own drink, the burn in your gut rising like a flame. it travels from your tummy all the way up your esophagus, tickling your lips with a sting.

“do you like it, babydoll?” he collects the glasses, putting them in the sink for later, “i hope you did. i worked really hard on making you a nice drink.”

you nod sloppily, words caught in your throat like the eager blaze that’s simmering within your body. words are barging into your mind, but you cannot decipher, nor string them together, properly. “that’s wonderful. would’ya mind joining me for a smoke break?”

“sure, we can do that…” you smile, your cheeks hot and your skin prickly with fire. gallagher walks out of the bar, helping you walk out of the bar with enough stability. he leads you back to the wall he stood against before, the golden hour much darker than before. you leaned against him within the alleyway.

“have you smoked before?” he asks, taking out a cigarette from the carton in his pocket, where the credits from before lie.

“nooo…” you slur, giggling against the wall as gallagher helps you up, the unlit smoke between his lips.

“…wanna try?” he asks again, lighting the cigarette, flick, flick, shielding the flame with his free hand.

you considered it for a moment. you never thought you’d touch a cigarette, nevertheless smoke it, yet here you are, “uh… sure…?” you said with a hiccup.

gallagher takes a long inhale of the cigarette, his lungs filling with smoke before he takes it out, filling your own mouth with smoke as he puts his lips on yours, gently cupping your jaw with his other hand.

he exhales the rest of the smoke, watching you cough with a weirdly sick pleasure, “you like it?”

just as you were about to whine and say ‘no,’ the rush of nicotine blurs your mind, you can barely muster up a whimper, let alone nod your head weakly. “thas’ good, hun.”

he passes you the lit cigarette, watching you take it between your fingers as you take a small puff, the paper that wraps the tobacco burning up. again, you cough, but the menthol soothes your throat a bit more this time.

“feels real good, don’t it?” he breathes on the junction of skin between your collarbone and your neck, the burn boiling over as you exhale, feeling his hot breath against your prickly skin.

gallagher takes the cigarette from you again, taking a long drag from it, and exhaling in front of you, a bit of the smoke tingling within your throat.

“gonna feel better sooner or later,” he murmurs, taking the cigarette out of his mouth and kissing the intersection between your carotid artery and your clavicle, tickling your skin with his raw, swollen lips.

you whine as his hands crawl up your body, feeling your chest and your covered up nipples. he’s getting handsy as he finishes the rest of the smoke, holding it in for longer, then exhaling in your face with a sinister chuckle, “you’s needy. i gotcha babydoll, don’t worry.”

you fall into him as he crushes the butt-end of the cigarette, the orange menthol filter dissipating out of existence. his gloved hands feel all over every inch of your torso, from your collarbones, to your low abdomen. gallagher plants more rough kisses onto you, picking you up and leaning you against the wall, your back facing him as your cheek presses against the cold, hard surface of the wall.

your vision is spinning as your intoxicated state seeps deeper into your mind and body, watching as he unties his pretty magenta-colored tie. gallagher binds your hands with the tie, keeping your hands behind your back, in place and secure.

“you wanna stay here like this? i’m not gonna ask you again, so you’d best tell me now if you don’t wanna go through with it.” he commands, his grip tight, but loose enough not to bruise flesh.

truthfully, you want to do this, your body does too. your words are failing you as you make little noises, your cheek scraping lightly against the ragged surface. you mustered up a meager, “wannit, gall… ger…”

“yeah, hun?” he whispered breathily, heat radiating against the shell of your ear, “you gonna be good f’me?”

“yessss…” you whine in response, shuffling against the wall, your mind buzzing with every possibility.

“thas’ good, so good already.” he smiles, you can feel his lips curl against your neck as he gives you another little kiss, his raw, rough lips grazing against your tender, needy flesh.

gallagher was buzzed himself, he’s always had a high tolerance for things like alcohol and nicotine, being high off life was almost entirely new. something he hadn’t felt in so long, and here you were, back arched, being all obedient. all for gallagher, bartender and bloodhound (that of which you were unaware of).

in a swift motion, he tugged your at your clothing, moving it out of the way, so he can paw at your undergarments. you looked so cute like this, wrists bound and legs spread. all of this just so he can see what awaits him, “my, my, you’re all wet.”

“nnnmh, yeaaah…” you heaved, you’re dizzy, needy, you’re hammered, and you’re vulnerable. how much more adorable can you get? his fingers traced circles around the dampened spot in your underwear. you’re soaked already.

gallagher pulled your underwear to the side, tucking it in the crevice between your lip and your asscheek, working his fingers on your wet slit. he took some of your slick on his finger, rubbing your clit with his dominant hand. he gave your pussy a self-indulgent slap, before teasing your entrance with a thick finger. wordlessly, it slipped in with relative ease, eliciting a loud moan to pass through your swollen lips. he chuckled at your reaction, pulling it out, then slipping the digit back inside.

another moan fell from your lips, throaty and whiny. his finger started to move inside you, at first unbent and quickly fucking you. you slid against the wall, knees buckling slightly, before gallagher’s free hand pinned you to the wall, keeping you in your place. his single finger curled inside you, hitting your spongy g-spot. you mewled, crooning at the sensation, practically seeing stars. your vision started to blur as black splotches started to cloud it, but all you could feel, think, understand, want, smell, need, was him. he continued fucking you with his finger, watching your legs shake and your juices drip down his finger and onto his gloved palm.

“feels real nice, don’t it?” he cooed, slipping in another digit without warning. his scarred, toned arm flexed with every movement, curling and slipping inside and outside of you. his fingers made their way to your clit, rubbing it with vigor and passion, before he spread your other lip with his thumb and put his lips to your pussy. he gave it a rough, sloppy kiss, pulling away to listen to you cry out. nobody could care any less, they were experiencing the dream. in all actuality, this feels like a dream within a dream, if that makes sense. you were just so amazing, you were alluring. definitely worth more than 500 credits. he gave your pussy another sopping wet kiss, his scratchy stubble rubbing against your skin, creating friction. his tongue darted to your clit, licking and sucking it between his lips and teeth. his thumb still held your cunt open. gallagher gave you a couple more long licks and kisses for good measure, savoring your every drop, relishing your taste, before standing up.

“ready, babydoll?” gallagher rhetorically asked before unbuckling his belt and unzipping his pants (which happened to be the same magenta color as his tie). you nodded, drooling and zoning out. all you could understand was the pleasure he was giving you, all you could care about was how much more pleasure he could give you, “great.”

he pulled his thick cock out from his boxers, lining it up against your entrance, savoring the difference in size. your small, little cunt and his big, fat dick. how cute. gallagher re-adjusted you, spreading your legs just a bit further, then putting some pressure on the lumbar portion of your back, causing you to arch more instinctively.

without warning, the burning within your body had boiled over again between your legs, the stretch to accommodate his girthy dick nearly destroying you. you screamed, but nobody gives a damn, “scream all you want, babe, you gonna take it.”

gallagher pulled out again, just a little, to slam back into you, watching your cunt stretch as much as it could. he savored how warm and tight you were, tight as a vice could get. your eyes rolled into the back of your head, saliva dribbling your chin and onto your clothing. a loud crack, followed by a searing pain, flooded your senses. his palm made contact with your asscheek again, slapping it roughly for a second time, pushing himself into you with as much force as he could use before breaking you in half.

“you takin’ me so good, ‘m proud of ya, doll,” he chuckled, smiling again. gallagher had found a pace inside you, his hand snaking up to your throat and wrapping around it. he applied pressure to your jugular and carotid with his thumb and his other four digits on their respective sides. he sped up slightly, gripping your hips as air flow lessened.

gallagher continued to slam-fuck into you, speeding up with every thrust, chasing his high. his breath was hot and heavy, huffing in your ear as your vision and hearing fizzled out like the cigarette butt on the pavement. your breathing became ragged as he bullied your pussy ruthlessly, “you ever been fucked like this, huh?”

air rejuvenated your senses as he let go of your throat, you heaved a weak, drunken “no.”

“ain’t no dick good as gallagher’s, huh? good as mine, mmm.” he groaned, his hips colliding with yours faster and faster andfasterandfaster…, “gonna cum, babydoll. i ain’t pullin’ out, though.”

you hoarsely whined, your fucked-out brain needing more of him, any morsel of him is good enough, and it just feels so good, and youreabouttofuckingcumtoo…

“mmn, i’m cumming, hun. i’m gonna fuckin’ cum in you, you needy bitch. fuuuuckyeah…” gallagher’s grip on your throat tightened the moment the burning hot coil in your stomach loosened, allowing you to orgasm and scream out his name just as soon as he came. he groaned and huffed in your ear, his brown hair messy and clinging to his sweaty face, “feels so fuckin’ good, fuuuck.”

you let out a choked noise, prompting him to let go and pull out of you. he leaned over you, resting his forehead against his forearm, that of which was supported by the wall you leaned against. your knees wobbled, and before you could fall, gallagher instinctively held your abdomen with his other arm, tucking you against his chest. you stared at his scars, which littered his arm, as you came down from your intense orgasm.

“…you okay?” he asked with a newfound gentleness. he helped you back up as he untied your wrists and pulled up his pants, fixing his belt. he chuckled, “i bet you’re tired.”

“very,” you panted back in response.

“how ‘bout i clock out and carry you home, how’s that sound?”

“sounds amazing, gallagher,” you leaned against him as he lit another cigarette before walking back into the nightclub.

[cybersteal]

ℂ𝕙𝕒𝕣𝕒𝕔𝕥𝕖𝕣 𝕀𝕟𝕥𝕖𝕣𝕧𝕚𝕖𝕨: 𝕍𝕚𝕔𝕖𝕣𝕠𝕪

Tagged by @dreamskug and subsequently ripped off inspired by his, @lokiina’s, @nightcityace’s & @arcandoria’s creative take on it.

V: Hey, sorry I’m- Interviewer: Late? V: Only by thirty minutes, can't be that big of a deal. Interviewer: Maybe it is-

V: Okay, well, I'm here now, on a Friday night, instead of drinking myself stupid like I wish I was. Go ahead and ask your questions.

ɴɪᴄᴋɴᴀᴍᴇ:

V: V. Interviewer: That’s it? V: Yup.

ɢᴇɴᴅᴇʀ:

V: Male.

ꜱᴛᴀʀ ꜱɪɢɴ:

ʜᴇɪɢʜᴛ:

V: Six feet. Interviewer: Actually? V: Does this look like a face that would lie to you?

ᴏʀɪᴇɴᴛᴀᴛɪᴏɴ:

V: You first. Interviewer: Excuse me? V: Hah! Relax, choom, just trying to lighten the mood! Jeez. I’m Pan. Equal opportunity for all. Mostly me.

ɴᴀᴛɪᴏɴᴀʟɪᴛʏ / ᴇᴛʜɴɪᴄɪᴛʏ:

V: I was born in SoCal, but my parents are both from Mexico. I have a…complicated relationship with my Latino heritage, since it wasn’t really somethin’ that my parents took the time to share with me in detail, or my siblings. Never had the chance to ask why, but after comin’ to Night City, I realized I kinda missed out on a lot growing up.

ᴅᴏɢ ᴏʀ ᴄᴀᴛ ᴘᴇʀꜱᴏɴ:

V: Well, I have a cat at home. One of those hairless ones. But I did always want a dog. Interviewer: Oh? What kind? V: Xoloitzcuintli.

ꜰᴀᴠᴇ ꜰʀᴜɪᴛ, ꜱᴇᴀꜱᴏɴ, ꜰʟᴏᴡᴇʀ, ꜱᴄᴇɴᴛ:

V: Whoa, whoa, slow down, Jesus. Uhh…first one was-? Interviewer: Fruit. V: Right. I like grapes. The purple ones. Interviewer: Why purple? V: Shit, I dunno. They taste better? Interviewer: Heh. Yeah, fair enough. Season? V: I love summer. Life slows down a little, people take more time to relax. I don’t mind the heat, neither, ‘cause I can just go for a swim whenever, or go for a drive with the windows down. Cools me just fine. Interviewer: Preem. V: I like those orange poppy’s that grow all over the Badlands. California poppy’s I think they’re called.

Interviewer: And for your favorite scent? V: Right – probably amber. I've used the same brand of amber-heavy cologne for years. Oh, and I really like that one specific brand of tobacco my mom smoked. Interviewer: What brand was that? V: Can’t recall. Somethin’ imported.

ᴄᴏꜰꜰᴇᴇ, ᴛᴇᴀ ᴏʀ ʜᴏᴛ ᴄʜᴏᴄᴏʟᴀᴛᴇ:

V: Coffee. Double shot. Sometimes triple, if I’m doin’ a long gig. Interviewer: Christ. V: Hey, merc work ain’t easy. It’s that or synthcoke. Interviewer: I’m scared to ask the next question…

ᴀᴠᴇʀᴀɢᴇ ʜᴏᴜʀꜱ ᴏꜰ ꜱʟᴇᴇᴘ:

V: Yikes…like 5? If I’m lucky. Interviewer: I’m not at all surprised. V: The fuck is that supposed to mean?

ɴᴜᴍʙᴇʀ ᴏꜰ ʙʟᴀɴᴋᴇᴛꜱ ʏᴏᴜ ꜱʟᴇᴇᴘ ᴡɪᴛʜ:

V: No, no. Hold on. I wanna know why you’re not surprised. Do I got bags under my eyes or somethin’? Interviewer: Actually, no. V: Nova. Interviewer: You got suitcases.

V: You’re fine, choom. I appreciate the banter. I don’t need to sleep with any blankets though. Interviewer: Really? Why not?

V: Sub-dermal armor. Got a bunch of other stuff you can’t see as well – keeps me runnin' hot, all the time.

ᴅʀᴇᴀᴍ ᴛʀɪᴘ:

V: Aw, shit. There’s so many places. If I had to pick, I guess…Havana. Interviewer: Cuba. You into history? V: Nah, choom. Beaches.

ꜰᴀᴠᴇ ꜰɪᴄᴛɪᴏɴᴀʟ ᴄʜᴀʀᴀᴄᴛᴇʀ:

V: Mad Max. Interviewer: You don’t think that’s a little…stereotypical? V: Does it look like I care? Me and my sister used to pretend we were members of the MFP and annoy the hell out of our brother. I called him nothin' but Toecutter for two years. He hated it.

ʀᴀɴᴅᴏᴍ ꜰᴀᴄᴛ:

V: If you lick a person’s elbow when they’re not looking, they won’t feel it. Interviewer: …huh. Misty: Oh, V… V: It was the first thing that popped into my head, okay, I panicked-

This was a lot of fun to make tbqh. He's such a gonk - that ADHD brain keeps him moving around and fidgeting 24/7 even without the help of caffeine or stims and boosters, and he can talk about himself for hours, the narcissistic dickhead.

Shoutout to my bestest choombatta @klept0kid you deserve to have your name attached to your masterpiece lmao.

tags: @chooh2 @pinkyjulien @meltingangels @ouroboros-hideout @ne0n-rust @netripper @wilxfyre @klept0kid @glitchinginthegarden @nightcxty @shimmer-like-agirl @noirapocalypto @katsigian @wanderingaldecaldo @cyberpunkaddict @elvenbeard @wraithsoutlaws

[weixuldo]

Linecook Anakin HCs pt 2

pt one

HELLO once again i am back with more ani hcs… i have a multitude of ideas like a never ending flow so if u all want more lmk :)

warnings: cursing, ani is a typical horny young adult, smoking; weed, cut?

Sometimes he wears a black bandana to hold his hair back and…. Fuck, its hot

Wears a black hat sometimes too

One time he forgot to bring something to pull his hair back so he embarrassingly had to use someone’s neon scrunchie- he was not thrilled

The type of guy to douse himself in cologne before shift so he smells “good” for longer (plus he thinks you'll like it)

He definitely looks on the schedule app to see what day’s you’re working

Happily surprised when he sees you walk into the kitchen when he knew you weren’t scheduled. 

Walks up to you when you’re clocking in; tosses his rag over his shoulder and leans up against the wall beside you.

“Hey beautiful, I didn’t think you were scheduled”

“Nah, I picked up Hera’s shift, wanted some extra money”

He clicked his tongue and smiled, “Ahh, I think you just missed me, you could have just texted me princess”

“In your dreams Skywalker”

Lots of “fuck’s” and “goddamn’s” when he accidently burns himself on the grill or oven. 

When he cuts himself while preparing the meat or veggies, make sure to clean it out and put a brightly colored bandaid (he keeps them in his pockets) on it… mostly because he wants you to notice he injured himself. 

“What happened Anakin?”

“Oh, nothing- I just was cutting too quick- it kinda hurts tho…wanna kiss it better for me?” he comments with a smirk

“Ughhh, I guess” you roll your eyes and indulge him. 

He gets pissy when the other waitresses aren't running the food in the window because it backs up his workspace and he cant put out new orders

“Hands to the front!” he yells, as he checks the screen for the incoming orders

No one answers, he looks around and sees the waitress doing side work and getting drinks, but not running his food. what the fuck?!

A part of him is frustrated that you aren’t backing him up, but then he realizes you're not even in the kitchen. 

You walk in and see the window is still full; “Guys! Can I get some hands to the window?! I can’t run all of your food plus mine and serve my tables all at the same time” you say loudly. 

You stand by the window handing the plates to the new line of waitresses who are now ready to work so they don’t get yelled at later

“Alright, let's get these out quick! I know its rush but Anakin cant put up the new orders if these don't go out” 

He smiled to himself, you’re not only helping him out, but you also care about him being able to do his work too. 

Once everything is out and things have calmed down he thanks you

“I appreciate it, princess”

“No worries, I was just sick of running everyone’s shit by myself” you sigh

“You’re doin great” he smiles

One time you were on vacation for two weeks and he thought he would die

He flirted with other waitresses but it wasn't the same

The day you came back to work he was surprised to see you- he had forgotten to check who was working

“Hey y/n!” 

His ears perk up at your co-worker’s sing-songy voice.

“Hey Rose” you reply.

You walk into the kitchen; your skin has a noticeable beach tan and he can see a small hit of your bikini line by your collarbone (and ofc that goes straight to his dick- good thing he’s wearing an apron)

“Hey Ani” you say, walking past the kitchen to put your purse in the back. 

“Hey beautiful” 

Throughout the shift he can't help but watch you breeze through the kitchen like you never left. 

Your radiant smile enchants him, making it hard for him to concentrate on the orders coming in.

Definitely curses out new cooks when they mess up too much during rush

Anakin hates when the manager assigns him trainees- he doesn’t wanna come to work and have some idiot mess up his flow by following him all over creation

He gets this new guy and already doesn’t like him because he’s way too talkative

When the new guy finally starts on his own, he starts trying to get the know the waitresses: He talks about this TV show with Hera, exchanges jokes with Rose, banters with Ahsoka, but he doesn’t really talk to you; not that you care, work is for work- you don’t need to make friends with everyone. 

Deep down Anakin is kind of glad he doesn’t try to talk to you (he gets a weird vibe from the new guy)

On 4/20 he brought a bong and all of the cooks and him hit it in the back before shift. 

Everyone thought it was gonna be a disaster, but surprisingly all the cooks were more on top of orders than usual; half of them got really focused on getting stuff right, others just relaxed, and then there was the few who thought everything was hilarious

The restroom is in the front house where the guests sit, so when the cooks need a break they have to walk through the restaurant. 

Sometimes you’ll see anakin come from the back; apron off, messy hair, and his cleaning rag looped on his belt.

But what you also see is a multitude of customers watching hungrily as he walks by.

For some reason that stirs something in you… annoyance? Or maybe it's jealousy?

He really is too hot to be working in the back of a restaurant- his face alone would make much more doing something more appearance based. 

But what you don’t know is that he thinks the same exact thing about you. 

Anakin walks back in from a smoke break and hears the “new” guy talking about a certain waitress he seems to like. 

“Yea, y/n? she’s bangin’, like fine af. Y’all don’t understand how hard imma hit that when I get the chance” 

Anakin’s eye twitches at the disrespectful description of your body and who tf did this guy think he was? There’s no way you’d even entertain him. 

He’s two steps away from taking this guy out back and kicking his ass. 

“Woah, woah man. That might not be the best idea” Rex, another cook, says. 

“Yea, dude. Y/n is basically Skywalker’s girl… and I wouldn’t wanna mess with him when it comes to her” Cody offers. 

Anakin saunters from around the corner, acting like he wasn't listening and the conversation subsides. 

Later walks up to the new guy and grips his shoulder uncomfortably hard; “Yea, the guys are right- I would advise you stay away from y/n and I swear- If I ever hear you making crude comments about her again- you’ll be meeting me out back”

Anakin pats his back and continues on- safe to say he never talks about you again

Scrolls on dating apps that he never actually utilizes when he gets home from a closing shift and finds you- he sits up and focus on all of his attention on your profile

Suddenly bro’s a super spy because he’s analyzing everything- your bio, your likes, what you're looking for, your preferences, your music taste. 

He taps through your pics and his eyes widen as he sees you in clothes other than just work ones… and maker- you are gorgeous. 

His sweatpants feel a little tighter as he scans over a pic of you from your beach vacation- he recognizes the bikini by the tan he saw in you earlier in the month. 

His hands tremble just a little as he decides if he should swipe right or just let it go. 

In a moment of bravery he swipes right- now he’ll show up in your feed to judge-

“Match” 

What?

The screen flashes pink and the words “match” are plastered across the top 

That means that you saw his profile first and swiped right… what does this mean for work tmr??

[louisisalarrie]

You are so privileged to be able to look behind the scenes of your favorite. I'm happy for you. Does it somehow make you more relaxed to see the real person behind the artist or are you as close to fainting as the fans in the audience? I had the opportunity to speak briefly with a singer at a small festival last week. Not as well known as Louis, but already touring internationally. And it was super sweet and I found her so shy and vulnerable. That really touched me. Do you feel the same way about Louis?

Hahahah yeah uh, I suppose it puts them in a different setting mainly. I’ve met a lot of artists and behind the scenes they are just treated as normal people to a degree. There’s no hysteria, the energy is totally different. They’re there to do their job and everyone else is doing their job and they love doing it and then sometimes we party and then we head off to the next night. So it’s definitely a different side to see, and makes them seem just… more human. More relatable, I guess. And most of them are really lovely.

And yeah, a lot of artists are actually quite shy and quiet so that’s a really cute story anon!!! It’s always interesting to meet people who have a level of fame, and get to know them as people, not their name or brand or image, as it’s often quite different.

I found with louis that he is still loud, loud, and loud. A lot of energy and, while he enjoys his quiet time, it’s never for too long. He’s just full of energy and nerves to a point he’s almost vibrating. He tries to make every show his best, and from what I saw, what we see is what we get. He’s truly genuine, sweet, thanks EVERYONE which is just… so lovely, I mean it should be a given but a lot of artists don’t take the time to thank everyone, and he’s just… almost magnetic. He’s very powerful to be around, like I kinda can’t explain it, but everyone hangs off his every word. He also laughs, and swears, A LOT.

Anyway, everyone who worked on that tour found him to be exceptionally nice and use a lot of eye contact when speaking to people. His touring team were also really sweet when I met them, and you can tell he cares about them. And don’t get me wrong, he still has a lot of fun and has people do shit for him and has a drink with his band and smokes a fair bit for his nerves but he’s a lot more genuine than other artists. You can tell he really cares.

[fxdizz-y]

A/N; ... Y'all made me do this (っ◞‸◟c)

SFW AND NSFW HCS!!

𝐋𝐎𝐒𝐄𝐑! 𝐓𝐎𝐁𝐈𝐀𝐒 𝐄𝐑𝐈𝐍 𝐑𝐎𝐃𝐆𝐄𝐑𝐒 𝐇𝐂𝐒!!

ˢᶠᵂ <3

He's the biggest loser ever in the manor, let's be real.

Awkward flirt, can't flirt for shit and probably got smack once by the girls he tried to hit on/impress.

being real probably a simp too, would worship his crush and tried to impress em by doing something stupid. (would attempt to do a backflip and hit his head on a hard concrete sidewalk) (would also walk it off) (would faint)

INSECURE AS FUCK, tried to cover it with his ego though. (WOULD MELT IF YOU CUP HIS FACE AND KISS HIS SCARS AND ACNE!!) (If he trust you enough to be comfortable with you seeing his face and physically touch him that's it.) Also this includes about how he doesn't think he deserves nice things :((

Literally McCafferty coded. Fight me.

Loner!! And won't try to be social, both because it's irritated him and also because he doesn't think he deserves a simple thing.

Would lash out a lot! He have a lot of pent up anger and energy, kinda just explode sometimes.

That one weird loudest quiet kid in your class. Talk to himself, headphones on when free time, likes bugs, alone most times, collect cool rocks, pine cones or sticks :3

Despite not being able to socialize, he HATES being alone! Not like he would admit it anytime soon.

Skater! Loves to skate on the highway next to the forest.

ENERGY DRINKS! Hates the smell of alcohol because of his dad but would drink from time to time, but he mainly choose energy drink over them.

DOODLES ON HIS SKINS! Especially his hands and forearms, temporary tats he call em.

Gonna be fr he smell like sweats. And energy drinks. He doesn't like taking showers so when he have to go somewhere public he just slap on deodorant.

MESSY HAIR!! even though he doesn't shower often blud's hair is FLUFFY as FUCK. And unsurprisingly smells like smokes (BECAUSE HE PLAY WITH FIRE!!)

LOADS of scars, scraps etc.

Randomly let out a small scoff while staring into spaces.

Which reminds me, man zone out ALOT, and daydreams.

Literally a teenage guy in an adult body.

ɴsғᴡ<3

His game SUCKS! So guess what? He's just a horny guy that wanna get laid.

Would jerk off to your used clothes, items etc. (What's that? Your dirty clothes have been going missing from the hamper? Well that sucks, don't check his room though.)

Free his pillow💀 (AND HIS HANDS!!)

Lowkey whimper and low moaner>>

He's so fucking pathetic I have to fuck him.

First time being in a cunt/ass blud probably did a happy dance in his head.

I'm talking callin like idfk Ben or smth and goes "Dude.." In the most cockiest way ever.

Having sex is always an ego booster for him, like fuck look at him and y'all still wanna fuck him?? He'd brag about it.

Even though he LOVE to rub it in people face (Jeff's) would get annoyed if someone ask. Like he want them to ask but at the same time why the fuck are they even asking?

Messy eater if ykwim

Eat it like he's starving

Probably because he don't think he'll get a chance to do it again.

I'm going to hell for this one but..

He probably loves dry humping.

[archivalofsins]

This took a bit but I hope it succinctly explains my feelings on this matter.

Without further ado-

Let's discuss Kazui

He's such a lady killer, isn't that right~

Though he's also finding the time to kill the truth as well.

I'm not saying this is the woman at the bar. However, I am in a very impolite way asking where the fuck did the woman at the bar go? We never see her eyes in Half and this woman didn't have a face there. That is notably odd.

A woman that didn't have a face before has a face now and the woman who had one in his first video is nowhere to be seen. That's just odd.

We see Kazui doing some of his favorite pastimes during cat. Drinking and smoking.

Portal Timeline

20/06/11

Mikoto: Kazu-san, do you have any hobbies? I kinda want to get into something that’s a bit more mature. The sort of thing I could still be doing 10 years from now.

Kazui: Ahh, hobbies, huh. I wonder…… Hm, I guess trawling? I have a friend with a boat, so we went out on it a lot. Other than that, I guess when I go out drinking sometimes I play darts…… On that note, do you drink?

Mikoto: Ahh, I’ve tried darts before too. Drinking, huh. I guess I can probably hold my alcohol a bit better than the average person. Back when I was a uni student I drank a lot. But…… you look like you drink a lot too, Kazu-san.

Kazui: ……can you tell? That’s probably my biggest hobby of all of them. I like drinking anything. Beer, wine, shōchū, the lot.

21/08/05  (Kazui’s Birthday)

Kazui: Oh, Shina-chan? How scandalous, coming to a man’s room in the middle of the night like this. Well, not that it’s really a room, just a cell. ……just kidding, since you brought some drinks with you, I’m assuming you’ve come to wish me a happy birthday, right? Thank you.

Mahiru: Yep! Happy birthday Kazui-san~ Clap clap clap! But as well as that~ ……I also just maybe wanted to use it as an excuse so I could ask you for some advice over drinks, I suppose?

Kazui: Advice, huh. Well, you’re more than welcome, but I don’t really know what advice an old man like me could give you. I haven’t got the first clue about what love is like for a young girl nowadays.

Mahiru: Ahaha…… Don’t worry, much as I’d love to talk about that too, um…… er, Kazui-san. You know, recently I’ve been having the same dream every day. Lots of people were denying my actions…..Denying my thoughts…… that sort of dream.

Yet, for some reason in Cat,

"Phew, oh wow I’m drunk- Hey, so what if I said I liked-liked you, what would you do?"

He presents himself as having a low alcohol tolerance using being drunk as a convenient excuse for his confession in case it goes poorly.

We later see that when with his wife they've both downed half a bottle of champagne, a beverage that ranges between 11.6% alcohol to 12%. Whiskey what he's drinking at the bar ranges from 40% to 50% if it's apple whiskey like implied then it clocks out at 35% alcohol at the least.

Shōchū one of the alcohols he mentions by name ranges from 25% to 37% alcohol. So, tripping up over one glass of whiskey that isn't even finished is noticeably odd for him considering his previous statements.

However, considering his posture and staggering in the middle of the mv he does seem to have had a rough night.

Possibly drinking more than he usually does for one reason or another. However, I don't believe he was that drunk when he asked that question. I think he just drunk more after whoever he asked gave their answer.

It's also kind of odd that the bartender and possibly the girl from the bar both seem to be attending Kazui's wedding.

I'm not so certain about the girl at the bar because she just doesn't have a face here, but I wouldn't be certain even if she did as we never see her eyes just her face in Half. The guy in the middle on the other hand definitely looks like the person we see behind the bar in Half.

20/08/05 (Kazui’s Birthday)

Haruka: ……Kazui-san…… um…… Are you, happy…… on your birthday……?

Kazui: Hm? If I’m being honest, at this age I don’t really think much about birthdays any more. But…… it can be nice to have as a means to start something. Like, for a friend you haven’t seen in a long while, it’s a good excuse to suddenly start up a conversation, you know? Being able to hear from a bunch of people like that makes it fun.

Haruka: I-is that, so…… That’s… nice…… I’m, kind of… jealous.

But, I’d also, want to hear from people…… e-even if, there isn’t a reason……

Kazui: Haha, but it can’t always be like that. You know, for us adults…… we always want a reason or an excuse for everything. ……hm? Wait, is today my birthday? So is that why you went out of your way to talk to me yourself for once, Haruka?

"There was a widow who, at her husband's funeral, fell in love with his colleague. She killed her son the very same night. Why? She'd see that man again at her son's funeral." - Caligula Effect Overdose Sun Temple Riddle and Answer.

If someone could use a funeral for that sort of thing who's to say another person couldn't use a wedding.

"I just wanted to ask, so it’s out in the open. I just got a little greedy." "I realize the futility, but I still can't help but dream."

We see a green apple roll beneath Kazui's foot before getting a glimpse of a familiar visage. Now with an apple adorning their head instead of a mask.

As the divide between truth and lies grows thinner.

"All those things I wanna do that I can’t say out loud I gotta keep it inside and act."

We see him become less and less capable of sustaining the act he's been putting on up until-

It snaps.

"Let’s take a breather; Love (plus) Destiny = Crap, smash it, shatter it, bye-bye. To be caressed by you, that would be perfection."

"I wanted to be loved, just like a cat. Maybe act capricious, on my word and at my fancy."

Man admits he wants to be for the streets and gets judged for it.

I want a relationship like a cat's- I want to be able to leave and come home whenever. Be a bit capricious- Change my mind and mood whenever at my own discretion. Try a little bit of everything eat birds on the street, chase red dots, push glasses off tables, be the predator instead of the prey!

Because-

"It's better to be a let down than be let down."

Is it so wrong to want something casual to come back home to?

To just want to-

For appearance sake.

"So, it’s wrong? Oh, shove that! INNOCENT, isn’t that right?"

To want to avoid getting greedy and complicating things with unnecessary honesty.

Imposter Boulevard Trial 2 Voice Drama

"Isn’t it unusual to openly reveal a personal dislike as a personal dislike?"

-Later-

"You said I was unfaithful – in other words, that I cheated or committed adultery of some kind."

"Yeah. That’s what I deduced from your footage."

"It’s not true. It didn’t even turn into infidelity. It didn’t turn into anything like that. For me… In my case, you see."

Cat

"Phew, oh wow I’m drunk- Hey, so what if I said I liked-liked you, what would you do? I just wanted to ask, so it’s out in the open. I just got a little greedy."

"The beating of this heart... see... it’s no longer about good and bad... it isn’t. I realize the futility, but I still can’t help but dream."

Being honest, telling the truth, speaking candidly, none of those things are about being viewed as good or bad. The only thing that's about is telling another person one's genuine beliefs and feelings.

It's right after this line the mask and gimmicks fall away, he takes off his ring and tells his wife "Let's take a breather."

An old-fashioned way of saying let's end things here whether it be for a bit or indefinitely.

Half

"All this time till now has hurt me, the scales of my heart has decided to sway. If continuing to hide is called unhappiness, not even one word will get to you."

Cat

"All those things I wanna do that I can’t say out loud I gotta keep it inside and act."

"I can’t stop, I can’t be normal. This feeling, it can’t be gratified. I can’t stop, I can’t be normal. This feeling, it’s yearning to be satisfied."

Finally saying those things left unspoken and literally dissolving their marriage.

Oh, then there's the more than casual lyrical similarities between Kazui's and Mahiru's songs.

"Since when have I ignored my feelings? It’s better to be a let down, than to be let down yourself. I just wanted to touch, to caress. I just wanted to be touched. So, it’s wrong? Oh, shove that! INNOCENT, isn’t that right? Maybe, perhaps... or... could it come true... like. It’s for the sake of true love, who wouldn’t lie for that?"

"This can’t go on, something’s got to give, I even love saying the words, “I love you” My emotions are out of control, that’s inconvenient? I don’t care! Tell me, oh tell me why, won’t you just accept me?" - "Mon-mon-monstrously in love in love. Mon-mon-monstrous, cuz I love you so much."

"Love (plus) Destiny = Crap, smash it, shatter it, bye-bye. That sticky-sweet sequence: Dinner + Camouflage + You-Know-What. Loving Affection (minus) Love, it’s tacky, this two-way deceit. Victim and Perpetrator, let’s keep it simple."

"Clothes Food Shelter + Love and Miss you. “See you next week?” sounding in cadence. The meaning of life while guilty, I can’t even breathe anymore. My lethal weapon: “This is how to be in love with you”. Clothes Food Shelter - Love and Miss you. This adorable, earnest, sincere ♥ Is bleeding, wailing, this is the end- What you trampled is my, “This is how to be in love with you”."

They're just two cheaters who people suspect were not directly involved with their victim's deaths. What's the matter with stating what one likes or dislikes in this situation? What makes one better than the other? It's simply perspective~

So, let's keep it simple and fair, alright?

[make-me-your-animal]

They pass the torch, and it still burns

This is incredibly self-indulgent. Basically, it's a short little my favorite rockstar being sweet to each other fic.

Warnings: none. I don't even think there's any swearing

Jake wasn't prone to stage fright. Actually, he was a natural performer. Yet as he glanced out at the crowd, he felt nerves twist his stomach. He was always the first one to be backstage, waiting for a stagehand to give him his guitar. While he waited, he absentmindedly played with his in -ears , needing something to keep his hands busy. He was so lost in thought he didn't even hear the older, more experienced rockstar approach. It wasn't until a hand was on his shoulder, and it made him jump.

"Sorry mate, didn't mean to spook ya," the man stated. Jake turned to look at the British guitarist.

Jake just shrugged, offering Phil a timid smile. “Its alright. I suppose I'm a little jumpy tonight”

Phil intimidated him, and Jake wasn't sure why. Maybe it was because he was older and more experienced; he had over double the years of guitar playing under his belt. But that didn't really make sense. He had met Elton John after all. Maybe it was the man's stature. Even though they were the same height, Phil was muscular. He made Jake look tiny in comparison. Or maybe it was the fact that in the man's 60s, he still had women gawking every night. Whatever it was, he wasn't quite sure how to talk to phil.

"You alright?" Phil asked after a second.

"Yeah. I guess I'm kinda nervous” Jake laughed awkwardly, running his fingers through his chocolate brown hair."I don't usually get stage fright, but it's different tonight first stadium

Phil watched him for a minute before smiling.

“What?” Jake asked, noticing the other man's gaze.

"You remind me of him... of Steve, I mean. The first night I saw you play, I noticed it. You are a natural entertainer.” Phil paused again. The similarities were there. In fashion, the tight pants,open jackets, and lack of shirts . in performance. Jake threw his guitar around and stomped around the stage, throwing his head back or lifting his guitar up as he went. They both loved to entertain. “He would get stage fright. We all get nervous, I think, but his stage fright would get bad."

Jake's heart ached for the man even as he smiled. Jake could see the sadness that lived in his eyes. Over 30 years later and the wound still hasn't healed completely. Jake suspected it never fully would. Just like how he would never fully heal if he lost any of his brothers.

"What would he do with when it got bad?" Jake asked softly.

Phil laughed slightly, his blue eyes sparkling. "Nothing, I would suggest. It was the eighties. Drinking, smoking, women. He needed to distract himself. He would forget that he was a showman. That people came to see him. Sometimes, he would just come talk to me. That always seemed to help keep his mind off of how much he thought he was going to fail”

Jake nodded, watching as Danny and Josh walked into the space together. Danny instantly started to stretch his muscles, trying to combat the cramps drumming would give. Josh got help with his in-ear monitor. Sam appeared seconds later, and they were handed their instruments. Jake slipped the strap of his beloved gibson over his head, pulling his hair out from under the leather. “Thanks Phil”

“For what?” The man grinned.

“Distracting me” Jake returned the grin.

Phil reached out and straightened the collar on Jake's jacket, much like an older brother or father would. “Givem hell”

Phil watched as jake headed towards the stairs standing next to his twin. Josh leaned over to whisper something into Jake's ear. He saw his own band in them. A shared brotherhood that if they played their cards right would never break.

Authors note: basically, the first time I watched a greta van fleet live performance, I compared Jake to Steve. I saw some similarities, which may be the reason I'm so fixated on him. That kinda inspired this little baby fic. Also, fun fact I think I've shared before Jake( and josh, of course) share a birthday with Steve.

[marshmallowprotection]

Kait~ it's been a while, I've been doing alright, I have been obsessed with pokemon and my last grade started a while ago. Tomorrow I'm also getting some more Blue Period merch I ordered! One thing in it is a special sketchbook that it's only in Japanese and I can't wait to try and translate it myself slowly and slowly, I have been doing decent progress with Japanese, after all.

Knowing two languages and going for a third one can be scary but I've been having fun learning it, even if I struggle a lot at some parts. I'm able to pick up on a LOT of words, actually, it's just I can't put them together in a sentence yet but I'm slowly learning more and more! It's not my main main focus right now but I have been getting back slowly into watching anime and catching up with some things.

How have you been? I still use Tumblr but not as much. I hope you have been doing well! If you want, please ramble about anything you want.^^

I wanted to ramble kinda about Yatora from Blue Period, I'm happy to say I'm getting more comfortable with my self-ship with him and also Saeyoung as well. Even though my main focus is Yatora, I still look at Saeyoung images from time to time!

Well, I won't be really saying spoilers about Blue Period but I have noticed a lot about Yatora. Sometimes, he is completely different from Saeyoung but they are some things they are similar to!

One thing is that they both go fishing! To be honest, Yatora was kinda dragged into it at first but now he seems to like doing it! I can imagine Saeyoung being competitive with a smirk and Yatora just awkwardly smiling as Saeyoung gets all the fish SKSJDHS

Important fact, they both blush a lot! I can definitely say Yatora blushes way more than Saeyoung but I love them having red on their cheeks, it's so so cuteeeee!! Yatora seems quite more emotional than Saeyoung so you'll see him cry a lot, even if he is happy it's so SKDHSHDH

We pretty much know how Saeyoung acts when he is mad so when Yatora gets mad, he thinks about it a lot and he gets hurt usually a lot if it's something with him. At least we know that he doesn't really lay a finger on anyone, no matter how mad he is, he usually just gets close while glaring daggers and talks lowly. Yatora doesn't really hold grudges and even tends to forget/leave it behind him pretty much!

One thing I adore is that they are probably taller than me MSMSMS and they both wear glasses, too! Yatora mostly wears contacts but he does switch to glasses when studying and other occasions!

A thing I found absolutely hilarious is that Yatora isn't that good with kids while Saeyoung is SKFBAJDHSJ we also know that Yatora sometimes cooks (to even avoid art block sometimes MSMSMS)

While Saeyoung doesn't really. Another thing they are total opposites about is that Yatora can consume alcohol (quite a lot too) and even smoke sometimes (usually when he feels horribly mentally but he doesn't do this that much now from what I've seen)

Even though he doesn't really get drunk, Yatora actually gets drunk from coffee for some reason AHAHAHAH- Yatora is also one of the best/smartest students in his school even if he messed around with his friends all day, it reminds me a lot of Saeyoung when he was studying back then!

I also love how much Yatora notices about the people around him. I'm guessing that Saeyoung probably does the same especially when he had to observe targets on missions as well. And can I just say how I ADORE that they both have yellow/gold eyes??? I could stare into their eyes forever HOLYYYY

I'm sure there's more stuff I missed but I will say these last ones~ Saeyoung is more outgoing while Yatora is quite shy and I found that really nice. Yatora kindaa goes wild if he is out drinking with friends but later on he is more calm. But it's really interesting how he can be quite timid at times.

Also Yatora's parents are really supporting and wholesome later on, it's really nice and sometimes really funny when I see them MSSMSMM while we know Saeyoung's is well.. yeah-

They do have some similarities but are total opposites to some stuff

I'll stop here but I'll probably come back when I remember more! I really wanna get back into writing self-inserts~ although I have other stuff to do first..^^"

Take care and rest well, Kait! We don't talk much but I really enjoy talking with you, I really hope you have been doing well. I hope you and Saeran rest in his garden and spend lots of great times together!

I do genuinely think it's interesting how we can find a way to allow our favorite characters to relate to each other as well as find the ways that they are different. It can be intriguing if only because it helps us better understand why we like those characters in the first place, and while you might find something that overlaps with another trait, you'll find that there is something else entirely there is well that the two of them may not have in common at all and you didn't expect to like a character like that.

I've definitely got a few like that.

I genuinely don't know what it is but people who enjoy Saeyoung… just end up liking other characters that can fish. I don't know how to explain this commonality but many people I know who like our red-headed hacker spend a lot of time somehow stumbling on to other characters who just happened to enjoy fishing for whatever reason.

I don't know what this means but apparently, it's just something that keeps happening these days. I actually don't know a lot of people in real life who enjoy fishing, but my God, what is it about fishing with these characters? 

I wish you all the luck in the world when it comes to learning another language because God knows that isn't easy in the slightest.

I struggle with English and that is my main and only language. Sometimes, words just look fake and I don't know what to do with that. But, I always commend people who are willing to go through the trouble of trying to learn another language. It takes a lot of time and commitment to be able to understand all of the rules that go into what makes communication click. 

I'm doing all right! focusing on all of the fun things I want to write about with Saeran because God knows I’m nowhere close to being done with him. He lives rent-free in my brain and he always will because I've been doing this for seven years straight and nothing’s stopping me. Hm, but as far as what I've been doing... I spend a lot of time in my RP Discord and working on my next fic!

Oh, and naps.

God knows I need a nap.

[alltheselights]

Hey I don't know if you've seen the discourse about Louis' image that's been happening lately but I wanted to get your thoughts. As usual with tumblr people see things in two extremes. On the one end louis' image is awful and toxic and on the other end there is absolutely nothing wrong with louis' image and it's his real self 100% and how dare you criticize anything about him. I guess I fall somewhere in the middle. For me it's how he's been presented during promo. What are your thoughts?

I would say that I also fall somewhere in the middle and I think people have lost a lot of nuance in the conversation over the past few days. I kinda summarized my thoughts on this discussion a couple of weeks ago with this post.

I think Louis likes beer and football and doesn’t like wine or really fancy restaurants. At the same time, I do think he sometimes leans so hard into his “laddy” image sometimes that you lose the complexity of who he is, and I think he can come across as unlikable when he’s railing about things that other people enjoy even if he himself does not enjoy them. I think both he and his team try very hard to contrast him with typical Hollywood/rich people and want to make him fit in with the indie/alternative scene, but in the process, they often fail to show how emotionally intelligent, delicate, and sweet he is.

When you’re a huge fan, you do catch glimpses of that side of Louis through long interviews, interactions with fans, and behind-the-scenes footage. For much of general public, however, they often just see a lot of negativity related to Louis, whether it be the constant smoking or unhappy-looking photoshoots, the constant commentary from both him and interviewers about his drinking and smoking habits, and the comments where he’s talking about how much he hates wine, sushi, nice restaurants, TikTok, and so on. Even if those things are true, they shouldn’t be central to his image when there are so many positive, interesting, and impressive things to learn and see about him.

I think that unfortunately, both the general public AND a significant portion of this fandom fails to recognize that Louis has as many stereotypically feminine traits as he does stereotypically masculine traits. I think Louis and his team are partially responsible for the one-dimensional view of him and that’s why I wish they’d be more creative in how they present him. However, I also think fandom is partially responsible for the one-dimensional view of him (and of Harry, actually), and unfortunately, particularly the Larrie part of the fandom because so many Larries really embrace old-fashioned gender stereotypes and want Harry and Louis to be opposites, with Harry as the feminine partner and Louis as the masculine partner. When you look beyond their surface level images, that categorization is not accurate and they both have plenty of stereotypically feminine and stereotypically masculine traits.

Harry dresses the same as Louis does when he’s off the clock, is obsessed with exercise and fitness, and loves sports as much as Louis, as he enjoys football, American football, AND golf, which are all stereotypically masculine sports (whereas Louis only really cares about football). Louis wears a lot of expensive clothes, is always in tune with his emotions and the emotions of others, and is naturally flamboyant whenever he lets his guard down. So much of the fandom won’t acknowledge these truths because they don’t fit with their one-dimensional view of the boys or their assumptions about what role they both play in their relationship, which is based more on fanfiction than reality.

So anyway, all this to say - I definitely fall in the middle. I don’t think Louis is displaying toxic masculinity because he doesn’t like wine, but I also wish that he and his team would choose to reflect the complexities of who he is because I think it would help expand his audience and make him more likable to people who don’t see as much of him as we do.

I also think the fandom needs to stop reducing both Louis and Harry to one-dimensional and old-fashioned caricatures based on gender stereotypes and their not-fully-accurate public images. I hope that all made sense!

[sluttypuppy69]

The day I switched

One day two of my straight roommates had invited their girlfriends for cards against humanity and was guilted to leave my room and join them. Everyone has been drinking/smoking except for one of the girls (DD and/or fastfood Runner) So no surprise the card game got boring and the girls got everyone into playing Never have I ever. The game was interesting by having the rules if you didn't do it you put a finger down/have a drink and last one with any fingers up wins. I think the girl that was the most drunk of us all shamelessly did not hold back (even got me thinking I should try out the being straight thing) and honestly probably the best way to win. With everyone else including me down too 1 or 2 fingers Lil miss drunk porn star said "Had Sex With More Than One Person in one night" both roommates lost at the same time leaving me and the girls still in.My faded ass roommates immediately looked in my direction yelling "Bullshit", "put that last finger down!", "I've never seen you bring girls to your room" the other one upped him "Girls? He hasn't brought even one guy over!" Besides my mom and sister those two are the only ones I've told that I sleep with guys sometimes. I immediately wanted to say "I was grateful with you two accepting me and didn't want to make it uncomfortable by bringing a guy over just for sex" but instead was surrounded by the wide eyed girls like I was a celebrity or mythical creature bombarded by questions I wouldn't dare answer sober. Kinda funny that the girls after knowing were so engaged and the dudes were distant/quite/uninterested. Sober girl must have noticed too and teased them "what did you ask him when you y'all found out?" Without any hesitation I said "yeah just one, you're not going to try anything funny with me Right?" The girls bawled out laughing and tearing up and I swear I can feel the heat of embarrassment from my roommates red faces. Oh the drunk insecure toxic masculinity, roommate grabbed his girl and snarked "when was the last time you had any again" (Shit, so they were listening to me) "Like over a year since I've moved here in [redacted] but like I already mentioned that the fact that I've lost count with how many people I've slept I needed a break". I'm not a lip reader but in the moment I know he mouthed a drawn out "right". His girl must have saw it to and pulled away saying "I think you need another beer" while snatching his empty bottle and b-lining to the kitchen. He followed her stuttering that he could have gotten it himself. "WE ARE OUT ALREADY???!!!" echoed from the empty fridge. Sober girl with keys already twirling in hand shouting "You buy, I fly". No response from the kitchen for a while, Drunk girl brought her (yes he was hard, I only looked briefly.... Respectfully) seduced boyfriend back to the living room and handed his keys to his SUV to sober chick saying we are all going to a club called the [redacted]. "Isn't that a gay club?" the other roommate looking dumbfounded. " I'm being used as an excuse for the girls to experience a gay club, I should be upset buuuuuut. I low-key have been curious to go but too much of an introvert to go alone, got free ride there, somebody paid for my entry fee. My original party sat at the restaurant section to order food, told em I wasn't hungry and wanted too check out the rest of the club. While roaming around seeming like I was alone I didn't know it would attract sexual predators that offered tampered mixed drinks. The super touchy older looking man that have gotten me like 3 drinks complimented on how great I can hold my liquor before getting up for another. So now I'm at a gay club drunk out of my mind, and starting to get really hot and horny distracting from even questioning this abnormal irresistible urge of needing to be fucked. Somehow recognized a drop dead gorgeous blonde from the Psychiatric Ward (I guess the sexual tension from when we meet there never left) and we started dirty dancing, sloppy unsynchronized grinding, swallowing each other's faces. I reached down his pants and showed my hands into his underwear and started stroking his cock, I completely forgot or didn't care that there was literally other people dancing all around us. He yelled into my ear asking "You want me to FUCK YOU?!!!" I yelled something back at his ear "YOU'RE SO FUCKING HOT DUDE!!!!" He started asking how did i get here and I said with friends and grabbed my arm and put it over his shoulder and his arms around my waist and started helping me find them. That was the first time I've ever been embraced like that and I couldn't understand why I was liking it. My straight acting mind was conflicting that NO YOU SHOULDN'T LIKE THIS ITS FEMININE TO BE MANHANDLE TAKE HIS ARM OFF YOUR WASTE AND DO IT TO HIM. Not being sober made it easy to just ignorea my negative cognitive thinking (yeah only took alcohol and drugs to finally enjoy myself). This eye candy finally got me reunited with my party and made it very clear to them that "HE NEEDS TO GET HOME NOW, HE SAID HES HAD TO MUCH TO DRINK". I didn't argue because the truth was I wanted him in my bed so I can rail his dick inside me, I mean the other way around? Even drunk I knew my friends wouldn't want to hear that or let alone take me home for it either. So I let sexy man take control (seriously why am I liking being taken care off) for now. So it turns out he's friend brought him there and told me he let him know he's coming with me and that he'll text him to pick him up later, while my friends are wondering where he was going to sit. (MY MIND IS RACING BECAUSE I WANTED TO GO WITH HIM TO HAVE SEX AWAY FROM HOME BUT MY SLOW DRUNK ASS REALIZED I ALREADY AGREED THAT MY PLACE IS TOTALLY FINE) He sits on my lap (why did I want to be the one sitting on his lap), "you're really stocky, and I don't mean it in a bad way it's just my twig legs would snap under all the muscle" I just stupidly nodded my head in agreement because horny. He said my name in a surprised way then said in a sexual way "why do I feel something poking my leg?" The girls went "uououououo" and the guys said "really?" Him and I started laughing, locked eyes and started making out roughly. (FUCK WHY AM I SO ROCK HARD FOR THIS GUY, ITS THE BLONDE HAIR ISN'T, AND BABY BLUE EYES......DID HE JUST SUCK ON MY FAT LOWER LIP? UGH THAT FELT GOOD WHY HAS NO ONE DONE THAT BEFORE) I really can't remember or care how everyone reacted to me basically borderline having gay sex but still fully clothed (I know I have to have let some grunts slip) but somehow make it back to the apartment. Everything kinda slows down, me and him are talking about whatever in the dining room table. It's to late for the girls to go home so they crash in their boyfriend's rooms and the sober one sleeps in the living room futon. As everyone starts getting ready to sleep he notices my obvious huge bulge and feels it up and down a bit I'm wearing jeans so it's a little tight, but leaves nothing to the imagination) then he leans in with a concerned look on his face whispering "you do remember me mentioning to you before back at the ward that I can only top". I could feel heat and sweat swelling on my hole between my ass cheeks at the thought of bottoming for him, "duh" I lied. "Did I not mention that I'm a bottom at the ward, I lied again. He hints at the only door open and I nod and we go into my room (forgot to lock the door) I'm drunk AF and having a hard time taking my clothes off , he helps take off my shoes, then socks, and somehow jeans and before he can take my shirt off my door opens. I instinctively cover my rager, and it's my roommate looking at my guest and being extremely awkward "oh you're sleeping here, sorry my bad" and at first glance it looked like he was slamming my door but stopped just a hair before closing and then turning the nob to minimize noise and letting go slowly that I if a pin dropped you would have heard it even with this apartment carpeting. Before I could let go of a "wtf" the sexy stud gets up and locks the door, all I could let out is a measly apologetic thank you. He smiles and says that it happens and proceeds to start stripping all his clothes off. (MY DRUNK SLUTTY BRAIN IS RACING) I got myself up and took my shirt off. He let out a quick howl "your hairy af wolfman" while making himself comfortable on my bed by squeezing some lube on his hot rod. I let out a playful growl at his compliment and looked down at his fully erect cock that was going to go inside me. (my libido went........ out of control ) I was unable to resist ripping off my underwear and throw a leg over him to position my ass against his cock and aggressively start making out with him. My breathing gets notably louder as I start to slide my ass up and down against his slick cock coating up my hungry hole with lube completely.

[yugocar]

lovely lovely @eyeofdog tagged me a whiiiilee ago but i saved it in my drafts and forgot to answer!!! sorry this is so late <3

what’s your favorite song(s) to sing/hum?

oh a lot of things. i love singing and humming. i suppose i always really enjoy singing highwomen by the highwomen! its a beautiful song so if you havent heard it gooooo

what’s your favourite flower/tree/plant?

god help me if i know the name of any plant, flower or tree (despite the fact that my mom keeps telling me dozens of them per week) lets say poppy flower! bc i do have a relationship with her strudels and wwi symbolism...

favourite colours?

mhhmmmm. turquoise, warmer yellows, green.

what do you always doodle?

i tend towards people/humanoid things. but its also central in my practice so makes sense!

how do you take your coffee/tea?

almost exclusively drink coffee and depends! most often with a good amount of milk because my stomach is a bitch, but i also drink turkish coffee and recently arabic coffee. i was introduced to it (black coffee with cardamom) by my moms friend from jordan and it was soooooo good. fingers crossed i can find a good one in serbia :////

favourite candle scent?

oh god no idea. havent lit a scented candle in years. i tend towards incense, frankincense is too good

sunrise or sunset?

sunrise, sunset is beautiful but whenever i see a sunrise its always a special occasion. except when i lived in the netherlands i guess.......

what perfume do you wear?

whichever one i have, im not very picky, i just like to smell kinda nice sometimes.

favourite quote?

god too many. but lets just use the painful text i reread in last essay i read.

- where are you from?

- from yugoslavia

- is there such a country?

- no, but that’s still where i come from.

favourite self care routine(s)?

uh nothing particular, i dont really do it in that format? lts become kinda weird for me - the term. just trying to take care of myself whenever i can by showering, eating a bit better etc. i guess the true answer is when i decide to smoke weed by myself and listen to music? its really good.

fuzzy socks or house slippers?

fuzzy socks. i love them but also if i dont wear them my stomach will signal its protest by making me bend over in pain.

what colour are your eyes?

dont put me on the spot like this....:(......i have central heterochromia, so they are kinda blue with yellow around the iris which kinda makes them look blue/green? idk everyone has a diff opinion on what my eye color is.

what’s your favorite eye colour on others?

brown. this is a brown eyes superiority blog.

favourite season? why?

not to be annoying but it depends so much on where you are living dkasopdkpao im going to say winter just because i love new years and have magical feelings about snow

cheek, neck, or nose kisses?

hmmm cheek i guess? or quick nose kisses. forehead is the real answer for me.

favourite breed of dog?

oh god dont make me pick. i dont really have one, i just love dogs. i have one cotton de tulear who is beyond precious and two mutts, so those are automatically my favourite i guess!

do you ever want to be married? if so, what colors would you pick for your wedding theme?

well my ass is going to have to for eu citizenship aspdapls! thats a lie actually you can apply for it via long-term partnership in the netherlands ANYWAY conceptually i dont mind either way. i dont need to, but i wouldnt not want to. for me getting married is a promise i take seriously, so it comes down to if i want to make that promise. i do think its neat to just celebrate with you friends though. you can get married without participating in the insanity of the wedding economy. re: color i have no idea?? i dont think my wedding would have enough objects to have a color theme lmao everyone can wear whatever they want.

cursive or print?

cursive bc it lets me embrace my illegible handwriting <<< just left the previous answer because literally same. but i sure do regret it when i have to read my own writing....

favourite weather?

soft sun touching your your face with a gentle wind blowing. just cold enough to wear a thin sweater or hoodie. the wind cools you and the sun warms you.

thank you for tagging me! anyone who wants to do it is welcome to, off the top of my head @christianbalegf @girlredactd @thebendsbyradiohead @magnoliamyrrh but none of you have to <3

[vaccerelli]

the suggested station for stuff “like” Everlast is bugfuck shitterton nuts. I was sitting on the porch drinking lemonade and smoking at two am thinking about how ridiculous it was I was still wearing my suit, when I was thinking it was too quiet and rainy so I put on What It’s Like, which always struck a chord of strange unidentifiable feeling with me as well as the innate wrathful melancholy of the song itself. it got me thinking about how all the things fall apart because I don’t text back or how I’ve become less and less and less extroverted and how it’s all just entered this unsatisfying loop and great another one. out of the existential frying pan into the fuckbrain fire. the more I talk to people the less I want to. I shut down pretty much all my push notifications so I’m not yelling at my phone to be quiet when someone sends me ten memes in a row. but it’s mostly alt-country or nineties songs from the same Everlast time period so you get like, southern hick shit and then Cake and Moby. it’s very unexpected. those don’t fucking sound like Everlast at all. next is Creedence, which I don’t even fucking know what. then Fleetwood Mac and Tarantula & Tito, which is even more of a don’t even fucking know what. it’s hard to identify that feeling. people just don’t do charged acoustic irish muslim rap anymore, I guess. we’re missing out. I’m missing out. it’s all some big fucking cheat or another. it’s harder to focus. it’s harder to sleep. it’s more boring to watch video games and play movies and eat sandwiches to the point I barely recognize myself. and sure, Eat At Whitey is more coastal hip-hop influenced, so once that enters the algorithm, you’re just fucked. Dogg Pound. Fun Lovin Criminals. Beastie Boys. but also Kottonmouth Kings? how fucking stoned do you think I am? I am searching for Everlast at two am, so I do appreciate you at least feeling around in the dark. that’s the best we can all do something. I keep putting on and losing a lot of weight, which is probably super healthy. I turned forty and didn’t do shit. Sweatshop Union?? okay you’re not going to impress me pulling crate like this. I know exactly how deep you go, Spotify algorithm. I can get three curated playlist deep into a cousin of a cousin of a recommendation to find the Nth continuum of some funk bit in some random song from 1971. I recognize you as a tool, partly because I’m fucking terrified of watching how much the algorithm dictates human behavior. we wrote ourselves a new civilization to staple messily over our old one. that’s cool. that isn’t unnerving as shit. leave me the fuck alone. like that Deki Alem song. man, if I heard Deki Alem on Everlast radio I would have ten different kinds of aneurysms. I barely care about suits anymore. I don’t take ten pictures of myself when I’m bored. I’m barely there. Johnny fucking Frierson? no, Everlast radio. I haven’t been being good to myself. all I had to eat today was popcorn. I watched seven Stargate episodes instead of sleeping and I don’t even like Stargate. sometimes I put on lame war is hell movies and then I do sleep. all that sorrow and blood just seems so tiring. dunno, though. What It’s Like. kinda corny, listening to it as an old man. Death Comes Callin is way more my speed. that or the old angel of death guy karaoke in Only God Forgives. that song is Leum Mai Long by Suraphol Sombatcharoen. also known as the Thai Elvis. I know so much stupid shit about stupid shit and it gets me nowhere. that’s the dice roll, right? either you’re full or you’re forward. it’s pronounced Sohm-batch-are-rohn or something, it’s easy. my favorite song of his is Suai Ching Nong — Truly Beautiful Girl — because it just sounds so full. doesn’t sound fucking shit like Everlast, though. that’s the root of the problem, really. that and the burnout.

[depressingdepravity]

I like to have firsts in bed but theres only so many times it can happen

Its just something about having someone else guide you, telling you what to do and praising you when you do good

So I have a bit of a praise kink, more than a bit but still

I lost my virginity at 15

I planned on dying on my birthday, I was set on it and I told an old friend

Someone I hadn't talked to since middle school

She said if I planned on dying I should live every moment until then

And so I started sneaking out with her

B lived an hour away and she'd pick me up in her car and take me to her place where she lives with a bunch of roommates who don't exactly throw parties but with that many people there they might as well have been parties

Everyone else was older, and I was suicidal and seeking approval

I did body shots for the first time my first day there off of someone else, a few days later I let other people do body shots off me

I kissed a bunch of people and I never did like kissing but I tried everyone at least once. Maybe trying isn't the right word but I kissed everyone there, granted I was always at least a few drinks in

Something I also started because of them

I drank everyday with them and I even tried smoking

I couldn't handle smoking it myself so they'd shotgunned me and I thought it was so attractive I kept asking them to do it again and again

Some of them vaped, some of them did cigarettes, some of them rolled their own joints

And I guess I did them all

They called me cute and their 'pet'

Another kink I learned I had

Once they bought me a collar and leash and I sat by their side the entire night while they hung out

They 'took care' of me by the end of the night

So in a way I kinda slept with all of them, even if it never was one on one

Then B asked me to be her girlfriend and I agreed, she claimed me as hers then and I stopped messing around with everyone and they stopped messing around with me

We talked like friends and they didn't call me pet names anymore or kiss me or touch me

Sometimes they'd tell my girlfriend to stop flaunting me cause they'd get jealous, and for context she liked to have me on her lap and let her hands explore my body just casually mid conversation

She took me on dates to the beach on her motorcycle and bought me flowers, she texted me goodnight and good morning and she cooked for me all the time

One day L asked me on a date in front of her, I looked to B because I was genuinely confused. Sure I'd kissed her, I'd done plenty of body shots on her and she had done some on me, and shed had her mouth and hands on me, but I wasn't dating B then.

It was weird because they'd all as a group done that and I wasn't sure if jealousy was a thing with them? B just shrugged and I accepted the date

I asked B about it and she said that they don't believe in monogamy, that I could date anyone I wanted as long as she knew about it, she said that technically it applied to her too but that she preferred having one partner

She also told me that L already had a boyfriend and if I was okay with it

I didn't care, I planned on dying anyways

So she took me on a date, she picked me up and it was the first time anyone but B picked me up

Every time I was picked up it was always at least 1 am so there's not really anything that's open for us to go to

She drove me to a field, she had a big light powered by her car and she took out an old blanket that had some guys face on it

She told me it was a singer she used to like but I forgot the name of him

We had a picnic of mostly junk food and got absolutely destroyed by mosquitoes

It was the worst date I've ever gone on, at least it should have been but she made me laugh and I had such a great time feeding her Takis and fighting off flies at the same time

I agreed to be her girlfriend on that creepy blanket

She fucked me in the backseat of her car and drove me home after, it was 5 am when I got home, practically 6 actually

So I had two girlfriends, both 18 while I was still 15

Everyone else I had slept with was 18-20

And it's been half a year since we broke up, and I'm just realizing maybe it was a bit fucked up

But

I've been taken advantage of before, by my first girlfriend and my sperm donor

I hate them both but I don't hate B or L

But I acknowledge it's fucked up for a bunch of 18-20 year olds to give a 15 year old alcohol and then have sex with her as a group

It's also fucked up for them to have shotgunned me and to have given into my drunken demands for kisses

It's fucked up and I don't regret it and id do it again

This thing got away from me, this wasn't really what I intended on writing