#so have some old poses that I never actually posted here

[zylphiacrowley]

[wttcsms]

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖࣪ do it softly now, baby !!

ᝰ.ᐟ if there's one thing every celebrity needs to master, it's the art of the soft launch. building up the anticipation by teasing your fans, leaving little easter eggs that only the two of you could possibly pick up on, playing coy whenever questioned about your relationship status... looks like you and him could write the how-to guide on this art form. alternatively: a headcanon post on how the two of you soft launch your relationship. ( sfw + fem!reader )

featuring sae itoshi, shuto sendou, shouei barou, rensuke kunigami, yoichi isagi author's notes haikyuu version here!

౨ৎ SAE ITOSHI. you are: a 2x gold medalist for olympic figure skating. just like how sae is the jewel of japanese soccer, you're the star of japanese figure skating. no one quite understands the pressure of having to carry an entire sport, to represent an entire country, on your back — except for sae. you're known to be a very serious athlete; you rarely cheat on your diet, you keep up with a strict training regimen even during the off-season, and you've never been in a relationship ever. you're stunning, but a little bit scary. something about you just feels so out of reach — like, no normal human being could ever match your caliber. you posted: a mirror selfie. for once in your life, you actually look fairly casual; no elaborate skating costume or athleisure in sight. instead, you're sporting a re al jersey. normally, this wouldn't be enough to spark too much speculation. the team's world famous, after all. what really gets people talking is the fact that sae itoshi, who infamously doesn't run his own social media, can be seen liking all your instagram posts. (little do your followers know [but the extra nosy ones will be able to find out], he's the one behind the camera for some of your posts 🤭)

you can't hold back your laugh as you stare at the notification that just popped up on your screen. itoshisae just reacted 😍 to your story! itoshisae: Nice jersey you: thanks, my boyfriend got it for me xx itoshisae: Do your little fans know that? you: they will soon 🤭 "what's got you smiling so hard, love?" your hairstylist is respectful enough to not look over your shoulder to take a peek at your screen, but you still hold your phone close to your chest, catching the dopey grin on your face reflected on the vanity mirror. "something silly." you tell her, feeling the gentle vibration of your phone signaling that you've got another notification. out of curiosity, you look down, and your smile only grows wider. namesofficialfanpage just tagged you in a post! namesofficialfanpage [name] just posted this on her story!! do we know anyone on re al who isn't in a confirmed relationship yet?

౨ৎ SHUTO SENDOU. you are: japan's favorite actress, even though you've quickly moved on from starring in j-dramas to gracing the big screen in america. you're hollywood's current favorite leading lady, and you're known for being the romcom starlet. when interviewed on why you haven't been in any public relationships yet, you've stated, "i guess i'm so used to all these perfectly written male leads that real life romance is harder to enjoy. when i meet a man who sweeps me off my feet, i promise, you will all know about it." you posted: a photo dump from your trip back home to japan; the pictures start off fairly innocuous. there's you posing with petals from cherry blossom trees flowing by you, you wearing a traditional dress and visiting a shrine, scenic photos... but the last photo is you being carried bridal style by a mysterious pink-haired man. your head is thrown back in laughter, and he's looking down, strands of his hair falling in his face so your followers can't clearly see him. your caption is telling — he sweeps me off my feet 🤍

"shuto!" your laughter is uncontrollable, and you squeal as he picks you up, sneakily giving the thumbs up for the old grandmother you two ran into to take the photo. "put me down!" "no way. i'm never letting you go." he's staring down at you, his smile infectious, and you can't help but think you are in so much trouble. somehow, shuto sendou has given you a romance that's even better than the movies.

౨ৎ SHOUEI BAROU. you are: barou's sisters' babysitter. you're literally the girl next door, and growing up, barou actually walked you to and from school. from the minute he joined blue lock, you've always been cheering for him wholeheartedly. watching him perform at the u-20 game was a bit of a reality check for you; barou is going outgrow you and this whole neighborhood. you never realized your crush on him was returned until he comes back from that game, cheeks flushed, forcing himself to "man up" and look you in the eyes as he tells you he'd like to see you again, once he's allowed a free day from the blue lock facility. ever since his confession, you two have been together ever since, even during his pro days. he posted: a picture of when he returned home during the off-season of the pro league. barou's not known to be a cute and cuddly type of person, either on or off the field. this post humanizes him greatly in the eyes of everyone. it's a picture of his sisters playing with your hair and makeup. your eyes are shut so his youngest sister can messily apply eyeshadow to your eyelids, and she's blocking more than half your face from the frame. his caption has everyone wondering who you are, though. My favorite girls. — that's what he said.

"how do i look?" you bat your eyelashes (which are coated with nearly three thick, messily applied layers of clumpy mascara, applied by his youngest sister). your hair looks a mess, courtesy of his other sister. the tennis bracelet he got you for your anniversary stands out against the beaded friendship bracelets you've made with his sisters. even with unblended foundation and lipgloss from a children's toy set, barou still thinks he's the luckiest man alive right now. "beautiful." he leans down to plant a kiss on your lips, effectively coating his own lips in the tacky, glittery gloss. his sisters shriek when they see the display of affection, but they're giggling, too. they love you just as much as he loves you. "you're always beautiful."

౨ৎ RENSUKE KUNIGAMI. you are: a lifestyle influencer. everybody loves your attitude, they're obsessed with your routine, and they want to live your life. you're recognizable by your signature stack of bracelets that you rarely take off, probably because the stack roughly costs about the same as a nice house. who said those tiktok grwm's wouldn't pay off? he posted: a gym challenge video. kunigami's not too active on social media, but his management team wants him to start posting the occasional tiktok in order to generate more hype and interest in him. this challenge is him curling dumbbells, but he starts at the weight where you stopped. as hot as it is to watch a shirtless kunigami curl 110lbs per arm, the girlies online can't help but recognize that bracelet stack on the wrist of the faceless "gym buddy" kunigami is featuring in his video.

"c'mon, baby, i know you can do more than that." kunigami's massive arms are crossed against his chest, and that damn smirk of his would make you shoot a glare his way; if only every muscle in your body wasn't already preoccupied with not collapsing. your arms are shaking, and you shake your head, letting the dumbbells clang to the gym floor. "this is torture. you do this for fun?" you point to the rack of dumbbells. "gotta keep up with the strength training, baby. and after i'm done with this, we can do some cardio together." the look he sends your way lets you know that the cardio he has in mind is one that you won't want to quit.

౨ৎ YOICHI ISAGI. you are: a popular idol, but in this country and this day and age, it's hard for some hardcore fans to understand that you would want your own life. frightened of how your fanbase will react, you beg isagi to let you keep your relationship a secret, at least until you're able to mentally prepare for the backlash. you've seen other girls in your group get ripped to shreds over dating rumors, and the last thing you want is to have your relationship with isagi being scrutinized by people who want to see you two break up. his friend accidentally posted: a video of you two. bachira genuinely means no harm! the video is quick, and you and isagi cuddled up together on the couch is barely seen for a millisecond until bachira flips the camera to his own face, with the caption "Thirdwheeling again 😔" your insane fans are quick to screenshot the one, singular frame you're barely visible in, but surprisingly enough, a majority of them are supportive of you being in a relationship.

"bachira, are you sure you're okay with me joining boys' night?" you're tucking your cold feet underneath isagi's body, and he's a good sport about it, so he doesn't complain. he actually pulls you closer to him, wanting no space to be between you two. he does correct you, though. "this was not a boys' night. bachira is lying. he invited himself over." bachira sticks his tongue out. "i can't hang out with my favorite people?" "you can hang out with us any time." you tell him, pleased that your boyfriend's friend actually likes you. no, he genuinely does like you. he's been streaming your latest single on repeat for the past two weeks since it released, to the point where his teammates are complaining about having to listen to it on the pregame playlist.

[covenists]

✦ FULL OF FAN BEHAVIOR, M. VERSTAPPEN

everybody knows that this account is full of max. from his first win to now, from his most random things to his glory time, she's always there to post his pictures. they only know her as his friend and nothing more, but who is she actually?

req: Saw your post for smau requests, maybe a Max Verstappen where people don't realise his girlfriends account is you know her official verified account. Because practically every single post is about Max. Full on fan behaviour, in the sense she was his first fan as his childhood friend, she has been there supporting him since they were kids, and now they're adults and together, but some habits doesn't change.

(bonus if the posts makes people question why she choose Max as her mans.)

2016 - 2018

verstappenight

liked by maxverstappen33, and 1,942 others

verstappenight WOOOO P1🏆🏁 congratulations to you maximus, i'm soo proud of you!

view all 125 comments

maxverstappen33 I won't say anything about the name Maximus, but thank you 😄

danielricciardo Well deserved! 👍🙌

username look how young he is

username I love a supportive fan ^^ Plz post more of this man.

   ⤷ yourusername glad to be on your service, ma'am

username how old is he?

username He's so happy, he turns red.

username I usually don't trust redbull after Sebastian, but he might be my new exception🤷‍♀️

verstappenight

liked by danielricciardo, and 1,230 others

verstappenight that eyes glint with mischief. #throwbackthursday

view all 65 comments

maxverstappen33 Oh my god, I thought I trusted you by taking this years ago

   ⤷ yourusername never trust anyone

username The half smile😂

username He's been pulling the red string with Red Bull from a long time ago, and look at the hat. I bet it's not a coincidence.

username how is she even managed to get this out? this looks so ancient

   ⤷ username It's not ancient, it's probably old, but not ancient.

danielricciardo He looks like he's planning to steal one of the cars steering wheel

   ⤷ username exactly! 😂😂

username if it's a throwback, how old is this pic then?

   ⤷ username i mean he looks way younger than him on her recent post, so just figure it.

   ⤷ username he always looks younger

verstappenight

liked by victoriaverstappen, and 963 others

verstappenight how is it feel to have a duplicates?

view all 72 comments

maxverstappen33 Why are you taking the second one?

   ⤷ verstappenight and why are YOU posing to that one?

username Why is he looks younger and younger each time?

   ⤷ verstappenight i don't know, but i definitely recommend him to have a slug treatment for anti aging.

   ⤷ username username it's him in torro rosso, so that's why he looks more like a teenager.

username it's not even thursday yet, but i had a bad feeling for this week's throwback thursday.

verstappenight

liked by carlossainz55, and 3,573 others

verstappenight boo! happy halloween #throwbackthursday

view all 269 comments

username what did i say, my feelings are never lying

carlossainz55 Got you! 😆🤣

   ⤷ maxverstappen1 If I got a heart attack next week, it'll be completely your fault

landonorris is halloween on 29 or 30?

   ⤷ username depends on what region you're in, i guess?

   ⤷ landonorris don't guess, answer.

maxverstappen1 And how are you even managed to take this?? Seriously. yourusername

username I can't believe it's actually Carlos who did this

   ⤷ username Yeah, but I think this is so Carlos-like behavior.

username i would do that face too if someone dressed as scream beside me

username Who is running this fanpage?

username why are you liking him so much?

   ⤷ yourusername because he is so nice, cool, and he looks like sid from ice age which is my favorite character.

   ⤷ danielricciardo we got a whole stack of characters here: first we got maximus the horse from tangled, sid from ice age, and then what? jimmy neutron?

username 😂😂😂ajajaja mira su cara!

verstappenight

liked by redbullracing, and 3,782 others

verstappenight found this on twitter and now i can't stop laughing! can't wait to send this to my family group.

view all 90 comments

maxverstappen1 I really can't trust you with my digital footprint 🤦🏻‍♂️

   ⤷ verstappenight i found this on twitter alright, it's not taken by me!

   ⤷ maxverstappen1 Still.

   ⤷ carlossainz55 Ooh, someone's upset...

username who is this person behind this account?

username Why is his reaction is always looking so hilarious

username Max: 😦

username i feel him

username you sure it's not throwback thursday?

MID 2023

verstappenight

liked by charles_leclerc, and 97,182 others

verstappenight i changed throwback thursday with this questionable sense of max's fashion. hope that's alright.

photo credit via verstauri on twitter.

view all 348 comments

username NOOOOOOOOOOOO

username #bringbackthrowbackthursday

charles_leclerc If you get rid of throwback Thursday, how am I going to tease him?

   ⤷ verstappenight by searching it on pinterest🤷🏻‍♀️

username Is that real or photoshopped?

username Okay, I know throwback thursday is made a long time ago since 2015 but man I really miss it sm... 💔💔

   ⤷ verstappenight same, but some people don't need that old max (except for charles). we need the new one because life goes on -max via my message

   ⤷ maxverstappen1 I don't remember saying it

   ⤷ verstappenight shut up

username oh cmon i know charles want it because he's in love with max

   ⤷ username should i be surprised?

   ⤷ username i mean if there's no throwback thursday, who's going to tease him with his past when she's not there

   ⤷ username Daniel and Lando or Y/n could...

   ⤷ username oh come on, i don't even know who's the person behind this account anyway, for EIGHT YEARS

   ⤷ username As if you've never heard of twitter, just search her username and you'll see her REAL face.

THE TWEET SHE MEANT:

verstappenight

liked by schecoperez, and 113,809 others

verstappenight guess which one is the real one

view all 462 comments

schecoperez The first one of course!😂🤣

username since when did checos ass becoming that juicy

   ⤷ username since he listened to daddy yankee's song on repeat

   ⤷ danielricciardo His actual morning routine:

username the first one because what else would he be doing if not eating omelette and seeing checo's ass in the morning

   ⤷ username even checo himself agrees

username I'm glad that she still post here, even though there's no throwback thursday anymore😞😔

   ⤷ username but i guess even though we did not have throwback thursday anymore, we still have this crack post of him😄

TWITTER, 3 DAYS AFTER THE COMMENTS ON VERSTAPPENIGHT'S DADDY POST:

maxverstappen1 added a photo to their story! 2h

ON THE OTHER HAND, HER ACTUAL IG:

yourusername

liked by maxverstappen1 and 82,147 others

yourusername good moooorniiiiinggggg from my room<3

view all 97 comments

username Thank God it's not private

username damn yall work faster than the fbi

username Anyone come here from twitter?

username Omg I've never realized max pulled this hottie ever since they were born

username THIS IS VERSTAPPENIGHT ADMIN?????

   ⤷ username eight years of waiting is finally getting payed off..

username why are you even choosing max to be your man when there's charles or daniel who's sexier

   ⤷ yourusername sometimes i don't need looks to see to be having someone like max. he's my best friend first, and i'm glad i choose him right the first place.

   ⤷ username Oh that's sweet...

   ⤷ maxverstappen1 I love you too, My biggest fan.

   ⤷ username I LOVE YOU TOO??????💔💔

   ⤷ username oh my god max is having a REAL relationship with a fan account admin

   ⤷ username AWOOP🚨🚔 THEIR MEDIUM LAUNCH????

yourusername

liked by maxverstappen1, and 278,903 others

yourusername nobody knows that this phone addict is once my best friend. happy birthday maximus! 🥳🤍

view all 486 comments

landonorris happy birthday facebook dad.

maxverstappen1 I once again not going to take the Maximus name. It makes me feel like a horse from Rapunzel.

   ⤷ yourusername wait, you've watch tangled before?

danielricciardo Happy birthday, Big boy.

redbullracing Happy birthday to our number one champion! 🥳🥳

username awww baby maxiee🥺🥺🥺

lewishamilton Happy birthday, mate!

carlossainz55 To be honest, your real account is sometimes still kinda feels like your other one.

   ⤷ yourusername force of habit probably?

   ⤷ carlossainz55 No, it's because you're acting like Max's biggest fan everywhere.

   ⤷ maxverstappen1 That's probably because she is.

   ⤷ yourusername wipe that smug smile off your face while you're typing

username He looks the same weirdly or not

username AHA I FOUND YOU VERSTAPPENIGHT ADMIN

username i love how she just hanging to his arm like they're been a couple since god knows how long

username SHE'S SOO LUCKYYY

username i'm gonna melt

username i feel like it's a hard launch, but she have been doing this for a long time ago

sophiekumpen 🥳🥳🥳

maxverstappen1

liked by zedd, and 627,834 others

maxverstappen1 How was I going to get her bad side if she's there and looking so beautifully?

👤: yourusername, verstappenight

view all 446 comments

landonorris poetic. remember your other girlfriend's waiting

   ⤷ maxverstappen1 I don't remember having another one?

   ⤷ charles_leclerc How are you even forget about us?

yourusername awww i can't believe you tag the fan account one too!! i love you so much!!!

   ⤷ maxverstappen1 I love you too❤️

username #justiceforcharles #lestappenforever

username SHE'S SOOOO CUTE no wonder max pulled her

victoriaverstappen I didn't know you pulled this cutie

   ⤷ danielricciardo Me too until I found out yesterday at the club

username poetic max is going to be the end of me

username I really had a bad feelings of he becoming poetic and gets all over like this

username Okay, this is max's hard launch. And now I'm waiting for Y/n's

   ⤷ username i thought she already doing it for so many times at verstappenight? 😏🤭

yourusername

liked by redbullracing, and 579,420 others

yourusername 💌

📸: landonorris

view all 461 comments

username PARENTS CONFIRMED???

username YESS (adopt me pls)

username is verstappenight still going to be there? let's see for the next two days...

username verstappenight nation how do we feel after this? (we can get a new max pic daily)

username i'm gonna thank lando forever for this

username With the bouquet, the dim light, and the black and white + sepia filters. What are they doin that night?

username AWWW ROMANTIC😍😍

danielricciardo They left Charles in the back that night

⤷ landonorris aww poor him. but anyway...

username how are you converting from lestappen to this one so fast?

TAGLIST @queenofmanydreams @muglermami @4limq @avengers-assemble123456 @cabbyhabs @meowtastick @4mula-1 @miarabanana @amel1ee @dinosushilun1 @auggieblogs @namgification

[theminecraftbee]

the summer before THE END...

(this fic contains @hotguycomiczine spoilers! go read it first! i'll wait!)

It’s midday. The sun is heavy and hot, bearing down against the asphalt and visibly making the air shimmer over the road. Summer in Hermitopia can be miserable, and frankly Cuteguy thinks it’s far more miserable than the bruises. The humidity makes his feathers stick together and itch in awkward ways, he’s sweaty twice over because he hadn’t had time to actually wash his costume between the last major villain attack, his recent part-time line cook job, and then this fight.

He’s in his early thirties and he’s becoming an old man, he thinks. His knees should not hurt this much, and yet here they are. Vigilantism is going to give him early arthritis.

They’ve driven off the villain. Didn’t manage to catch him, though. He wasn’t even from Hermitopia. That’s been happening more lately; people who see Hermitopia as some lawless wasteland where they can come visit, avoid drinking any water, and live out their dreams of being a comic book character, damn the consequences or collateral damage. It’s frustrating. Sometimes, deep in Cuteguy’s soul, he sort of thinks the Soup Group has a point in calling out all this bullshit.

Of course, they do all that murder about it. So. Not much better, really.

He leans against a building and tries to breathe. Normally he has a water bottle with his costume, but this guy had homemade napalm. Luckily, not real napalm! The water did work for putting out the fire! Unfortunately, it’s ninety-seven degrees and humid and Cuteguy has just done enough cardio that he’s honestly worried about the odds he passes out. 

Out on the street, Hotguy is chatting with every civilian he comes across. He’s grandstanding. He’s giving blow-by-blows. He’s acting like his sweat doesn’t stink like a mere mortal’s. He has a water bottle, and he’s taking sips of it between chats with reporters and posing for cameras. There are enough cars and civilians that Cuteguy isn’t all that worried about the TCG yet. Hotguy’s still pretty damn wanted, what with the whole possession thing that they don’t exactly have the means to prove to the public, so Cuteguy’s got to keep an eye out for them, but with this many cameras on him? The TCG isn’t about to arrest him on camera. Despite everything, he's still too charismatic; he'd still make them look too bad. 

Cuteguy wipes his forehead again. He does notice when someone starts approaching him; he might be exhausted, but he’s acting as Hotguy’s situational awareness while he’s busy playing up crowds. He can’t afford to be that exhausted, so he isn’t. That, and the woman approaching him is hardly as stealthy as the Bleeding Hart. Another thing he might have to give to the Soup Group were he willing to give them credit for anything: he’s never been able to fully stop noticing where everyone is around him. Hotguy had winced and called it “hypervigilance”. Cuteguy had said that he wasn’t any better, he just calls it a superpower. Hotguy had said it is hardly his fault his superpower promotes vigilance. Cuteguy had—

“Uh, good fight. Thanks,” says the woman.

“Oh, uh. You’re welcome,” Cuteguy says.

She’s tall and blonde. Also, she has four arms. Cuteguy should have probably noticed that first, but he didn’t, and that’s on him.

“Bit of a mess, especially in this weather. Hotter and they’d issue a heat advisory, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Cuteguy says.

He is not good at post-battle smalltalk. That’s why it’s Hotguy’s job. He’s good at causing chaos if needed, but chaos is the opening the TCG would need to get to Hotguy. Cuteguy glances in his direction. He’s posing and signing autographs still. He can’t help but sigh. They’re going to be here all day.

The four-armed lady follows his gaze.

“You know, I’d always wondered why you stick to him,” she says.

“Sorry?” Cuteguy says.

“I just mean—I watched the fight. Yeah, he’s good, but you’re decent at range too. You can get enough height to really not need perfect accuracy because you’ll be hard to hit. Wings are, uh, a pretty overpowered combat tool, really, especially when most of your enemies are on the ground. But you’re good at close range, so, uh, inside isn’t awful for you either, really.”

“I mean, you’re right, I am pretty good,” Cuteguy says, interrupting her. “I don’t really get—”

“Look at him,” the woman says. “You ran around more than him and he took the water bottle.”

Cuteguy wants to defend Hotguy for that one; it’s hardly his fault that Cuteguy dumped his water bottle on napalm like it would do anything. It did, which is convenient, but still. Not Hotguy’s call. He doesn’t quite get the chance.

“Even after everything last month, he’s still grandstanding too. Sure, he’s stopped shooting people for not being grateful enough, or holding rescues hostage for cash, but look at him. Hardly any better, is he. Sure, he says he was possessed—”

“He was,” Cuteguy snaps.

“—but like, is the guy he is now actually all that different? Just saying.”

Cuteguy stares at the man trying to get extra photo ops out of a group of passing runners. They’re topless to account for the heat, which is probably why Hotguy wants photos with them. Cuteguy can just barely hear the man asking to trade phone numbers. Is it worse or better, Cuteguy wonders, that the phone number Hotguy gives out just goes straight to Cub’s inbox? Is that catfishing or just good sense?

“He’s trying to help,” Cuteguy says.

“He’s desperate for attention,” the four-armed woman says. “You know, you’d probably be better without him. After everything that happened, your reputation would be better too. A little more in the shadows, a little less associated with his crimes.”

“He’s…”

“I just want the real reason, really,” the woman says. 

“What do you…”

“Why would you stick with him when you’re so much better?”

Hotguy waves goodbye to the runners. He takes another sip of the water bottle. Really, there’s so much that Cuteguy can say here, watching that. He could say something about how, in the terrible days when the Soup Group had first come onto the scene, Hotguy had barely left Cuteguy’s side until Cuteguy started pushing him away. He could say that Hotguy is earnest, that he really does want to save people, despite the fact he also wants attention. He could say that he knows the man behind the mask now, and he’s seen his films, and frankly getting a little recognition as Hotguy kind of makes up for not getting recognition for his decent acting talent. He could say something about playing Mario Kart on the couch, or learning to aim a bow, or fights with Doc, or secrets shared that Cuteguy wants to make sure Hotguy never has an incentive to spread. He could say something about how dangerous fighting alone is. That’s probably the more sensible thing to say, actually; Cuteguy knows exactly how dangerous fighting alone is.

What Cuteguy says is this:

“He makes me happy.”

There is a long not-quite silence as sirens and cicadas fill the summer air.

“Huh,” the woman says.

Cuteguy doesn’t say anything else.

“Well. I mean. I don’t really know how to save you from that, so I guess I’ll just leave you to it,” the woman says. “Consider if he’s really worth it.”

She leaves. Cuteguy stares after her a moment before shaking his head and going back to scanning the crowd for any known TCG elements.

“Birdie!” Hotguy crows, running over from the reporters. “We’re on the 5 PM news!”

“Really? An out-of-towner with questionable pyrotechnics made it?” 

“I got it worked out,” Hotguy says confidently. “But, uh, with that said, you look like you need some AC and a drink. I have so much Gatorade in my fridge that it isn’t even funny. All the labels are pulled off because it’s for that one football movie I did, right? And for some reason they didn’t want to give Gatorade the product placement, so they made all these sports drinks without—”

“Not in-costume, Hotguy,” Cuteguy says, but he doesn’t put any heat into it.

“—oh, you know no one’s listening, lighten up! Anyway, so the movie ended up somehow ordering far too many bottles, and you know what they say about underpaid actors and free food—or, I’m not sure it’s actually an expression, but let me tell you, I have never turned it down. And with the number of ele… electo-mites? I think? You know, all the sweat we’re sweaty about—come on Cuteguy, I don’t want you passing out on the pavement, I really didn’t mean to get caught out that long!” Hotguy says, grabbing Cuteguy’s hand to take him back to his apartment.

Miserable heat or not, Cuteguy can’t help but smile slightly.

“I don’t want to pass out either, that’s why I’m not running, Hotguy,” he says, and he lets himself be tugged along in that man’s wake once more.

[honkytonk-hangman]

How It's Done – Oneshot Version

Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin x Aviator!Reader

Originally posted by unicornships

Summary: “Like me? I didn’t even think you wanted me as a squadmate, let alone–” you stop speaking, but only because Hangman cuts his eyes sharply away from you to glare out at the ocean. “Well, I do.” He says kind of indignantly, all things considered, and eyes you almost sourly. “You can just say no if you don’t–” “–No, I do!” you quickly cut him off, because at the end of it all, you’re a little too much of a hopeless romantic to let this moment pass you by.

Warnings: erm maybe just some references to sex? jake being jake? language? minions. big warning for minions xD

Notes: Originally I intended this to be a two-parter series, but I wanted to change how it went, so I rewrote the parts I didn't like and made the entire thing into a oneshot instead!!! This fic will replace the 'part one' already on my blog, but I will keep this part up, linked at the very bottom of my masterlist! thank you everyone for being so patient! Thank you @hangmanssunnies, my love my biggest support <3

Words: 11.6k!

“Well, I’ll be damned…”

You pinch your eyes shut and steel yourself at the sound of the all too familiar Texan drawl, hanging on to the hope that perhaps he isn’t talking to you. You’re out of luck though, and moments later Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin slides into the open space next to you at the bar, already posed in a casual lean as he looks you up and down appraisingly.

It makes your teeth grind.

It makes your face hot.

“If it isn’t Mirage. Would have invited you to play with us if I’d known you were here earlier…” Hangman cocks his head, and his lips tip up in an infuriatingly perfect smile. “But one can never really be sure if you’re around or not… and that's before you get in a cockpit,” he grins, but when you meet his eye at last, he looks away from you, toward Penny who seems to approach in the nick of time, saving you from needing to respond.

You blink down at your drink, and finish it quickly, unnerved by what you think might have just been a compliment of sorts from Hangman. You’d been stationed together previously, though you weren’t friends, so you’d been expecting something a little more acidic in nature. You’d heard him interact with other aviators, knew he liked to push and poke them, usually got away with it too. For some reason though, he’d never really gone there with you and frankly you’ve always just chalked it up to not being worth his time. In fact, you’re pretty sure the only times you’d ever actually spoken had been in the sky. To be completely honest, you’re more than a little surprised that he remembers you at all.

You didn’t exactly go out of your way to stand out…

You were naturally quiet, which wasn’t helped by your social anxiety, resulting in most people describing you as extremely shy. They wouldn’t be wrong, you suppose, you did tend to keep to yourself, the idea of having too many eyes on you all but unbearable to you. But if you’d thought a roomful of people singing happy birthday to you was bad, somehow being under the unwavering stare of Hangman is approximately one thousand times worse.

“Penny, my dear… I’ll have,” he stops to glance pointedly down at your now finished beer, adjusts his stance to lean even more and unwittingly makes the muscles in his bicep bulge.

“Five more on the Old Timer,” Hangman says, nodding to the man who sits on the other side of the bar.

Internally you blanch, but externally, you say nothing and give even less away, feeling a little ping of satisfaction that apparently, you know something Hangman doesn’t. Before he’d come along, you’d been carefully watching the interaction between Penny and Captain Mitchell. You’d never met the man before, but you knew how to read military insignia, which at this point, was more than you could say for Hangman, who dismisses him quickly.

You wonder if Monday morning you’ll be able to work up the nerve to tease him about it.

You’re distracted from your thoughts when Penny returns with the requested drinks. You had no real intentions of going and hanging out with Hangman and the others, but before you can excuse yourself, your empty beer is smoothly plucked from your hands, replaced quickly with a brand new one.

“Help me carry these back?” Hangman asks then, jerking his head in the vague direction of the pool table. You frown when he immediately takes off walking, not actually letting you help him at all, all four beers still slotted between his fingers. You find yourself following him anyway, as if he’d placed some kind of spell over you.

Hangman stops ahead of you at the ancient jukebox, looking back over his shoulder at you, nodding in a pleased manner when he sees you trailing behind. He waits for you, gaze never leaving your form, even as he nods to the space next to him. You awkwardly step up to the spot opposite to him, and look past the glass and at the selection inside. Hangman, once more, takes up a lean, this time against the rickety machine.

“Would you be so kind as to select track number…” he trails off as he checks the list of songs, but quickly flicks his gaze back to you, and smiles bright, tauntingly, again. “Eighty-Six?” he asks, but it's barely a question. You nod, and swallow, shifting from holding your beer with two hands to holding it with just one. You carefully tap the chunky ‘eight’ and ‘six’ keys as he watches. The machine’s little analogue screen confirms that your song is next up, and nervously, you look back up at Hangman, horrified to find he’s just been staring at your face for the past however long.

“S’been a while, Mirage.” He drawls, making you blink rapidly and look away.

“Has it?” Is all you can manage meekly in reply, surprised when he lets out a genuine sounding laugh. He hums warmly, and you practically feel it in your chest.

“And yet,” he lifts hand, two beers held expertly between his fingers, but he extends it to tap your nose, almost making you almost flinch.

“You haven’t changed at all.” Hangman grins Cheshire-like down at you, before his eyes narrow ever so slightly, and he leans in even closer while flicking his eyes up and down your form again.

“I don’t bite you know,” he tells you, his voice sounding serious, but his somberness lasts mere seconds.

“Well, not unless you ask me to first, sweetheart,” he winks and his smile grows large as your eyes grow wide and you splutter, flustered.

Your face grows hot with slight embarrassment, a wave of inner resentment at his teasing washing through you.

Hangman laughs, seemingly bored with you now, and he turns to walk back toward the pool tables. Without even looking, he beckons you to follow with one finger on his still occupied hands. For a moment your pique prevents you from doing so, certain that if you were to dip into the crowd now, he’d not care enough to seek you out again, let alone notice you were missing.

You know he didn’t mean it, you know his flirting is just to get a rise, but you also know that he’d never do it to Phoenix, or Halo, and a little bit of you hates yourself for being such a marked pushover. You make the decision now that you won’t let him do it again, if you can help it.

Your eyes travel past Hangman then, towards the pool tables where you can now see another figure has joined the other gathered aviators, and for the first time all evening, you don’t feel nervous to go join them.

You follow after Hangman, but quickly diverge from his path, cutting around a gathered group of Navy personnel to get there faster. As you approach, you take a moment to shake off any lingering anxiety, before gently laying a hand on the faded Hawaiian shirt in front of you, doing your best to keep yourself from bouncing on your heels.

Rooster half looks ready to wave off whoever is trying to get his attention, but when his shaded eyes land on you, he spins his whole body to face you, grinning widely in unguarded excitement as he gathers you up in his arms.

“Miri!” he exclaims warmly, and you can’t help the laughter that bubbles out of you when he briefly lifts you off the ground.

“I was just about to ask Phoenix if she’d seen you yet.” Rooster informs you. 

“Seen who?” Phoenix steps around him, frowning as she quickly glances you over, though it disappears quickly.

“Yeah, that about tracks…” Rooster mutters mostly to himself.

“Nat, this is Mirage, you know her right?” Rooster introduces the two of you, and while neither of you make to shake hands, you only feel friendly energy radiate off the other woman, even as she openly looks you over now, nodding at Rooster’s words.

“Right, I have heard about you… I guess there's no real mystery behind your callsign… I didn’t even realise you were here… Sorry,” she tells you bluntly, but you appreciate her straightforwardness.

“They said ‘Wallflower’ was too long.” You joke lightly, and the other woman smiles. A moment passes between you, and you get the distinct feeling that Phoenix has become determined to never let you go unnoticed in her presence again.

You aren’t sure just yet if you appreciate that, but you are sure that you’ve just made a friend.

“Mirage?” Another voice joins then and you look to your left, smiling again when you see another familiar face.

“Bob!” you move to embrace him too, not seeing the look shared between Phoenix and Payback who watch you in surprise.

“Huh. Figures.”

-

Neither you or Hangman have moved since Rooster and Mav went down. The rest of Dagger had returned an hour ago, mission complete. There was no reason for either of you to be on standby.

And yet.

When the call came through that Dagger Two had been hit, both you and Hangman had separately requested to be launched, to help, but you’d been denied.

As a rule, you made yourself easy to work with, even if those around you were less compliant, and you’d experienced plenty of that, flying alongside Hangman the past few weeks. Whether it was him leaving you to get shot down in training, or refusing to fly as a team during simulations. And yet, despite his habit of ‘hanging you out to dry’ being the reason behind his callsign, deep down, you’ve never once doubted flying alongside him in the real thing like the others seemed to.

You’re glad for that lack of hesitation now, glad that it only takes a single moment of eye contact from across the tarmac for the two of you to understand one another perfectly. Glad that when you got word that somehow, Rooster was supersonic again, you already know his answer before you even ask.

“Hangman? Hondo’s cleared us for take off with the ground crew, against orders. You with me?” you ask quietly, looking over at your wingman, knowing that when you return you’ll most certainly be court marshalled, but unable to sit and do nothing any longer.

“To hell and back, Mirage,” comes his immediate reply.

You see him move in sync with you, both of your canopy’s lowering at the same time.

You ignore the panicked voices ordering you to stand down, long enough for Hondo and the others to get you on the catapult, and by then it’s too late.

In two seconds you’re propelled from zero to over a hundred and sixty, and in your ears you hear Hangman right behind you.

-

“Do you want to get a coffee with me?” The question makes you jump, your drink almost sloshing everywhere. The sudden voice, as well as the person it belonged to, takes you completely by surprise, but you’re thankful he doesn’t draw attention to your startling.

Up until moments ago, you’d been peacefully watching the ocean toss and turn, burying your feet in the damp sand and thinking about what you were going to do with your upcoming two weeks of post-mission leave.

Most of Dagger were a little further up the shore, a bonfire crackling away, although you weren’t the only one to have splintered off. Mav and Rooster were currently standing in the shallows talking, and you think Halo and Phoenix have moved to sit apart from the others as well. You had managed to sneak away easily enough, content to just sit on your own for a while, though your efforts appear to have been mostly in vain, if the man now plopped in the sand beside you is any indicator.

You blink at each other.

“What?!” you blurt out dumbly, not completely certain you really understood what he’d said. Hangman’s lips press into a thin line, and he looks away from you, linking his hands together around his knees, and staring out at the rolling waves.

“Coffee. Would you like to get one with me?” He repeats, sounding only a smidge impatient, but it still doesn't clear up much for you.

“I… No, I heard you the first time… I… I just don’t understand… why?”

Over the past three weeks you’ve been forced more out of your shell than you ever have before. It was torture. It was wonderful.

Part of you pats yourself on the back for being able to ask him so starightly, but another part of you slaps yourself in the face for questioning him.

Hangman turns to look at you apprehensively.

“Are you asking why coffee or why am I asking you?” He speaks slowly and carefully, his face blank and devoid of any hint he was teasing, though you think he might be anyway.

“Why… Why are you asking me?” You push, shuffling your feet in the sand, drawing his attention for a moment. He looks back at your face and frowns slightly, cocking his head.

“Because I like you? And that is usually what somebody does when they like someone. Ask them.” He answers, and this time you definitely get the impression he’s politely trying not to laugh, but for once, you don’t feel like you’re on the outside of the joke.

Still, you find yourself taken somewhat aback at his confession, admitted so easily and freely, as if it shouldn’t come as a surprise to you, which confuses you.

“Like me? I didn’t even think you wanted me as a squadmate, let alone–” you stop speaking, but only because Hangman cuts his eyes sharply away from you to glare out at the ocean.

“Well, I do.” He says kind of indignantly, all things considered, and eyes you almost sourly. “You can just say no if you don’t–”

“–No, I do!” you quickly cut him off, because at the end of it all, you’re a little too much of a hopeless romantic to let this moment pass you by. Especially when for the past three weeks you haven't been able to get rid of the odd heart skips you got whenever Hangman acknowledged your presence at all.

And besides, you weren’t blind.

Hangman was ridiculously pretty, and not anywhere near as much of an asshole as he wanted people to believe.

He looks at you blankly for a moment, processing your words, before his face breaks out in a smile. It isn’t one of his usual smirks or tauntingly pearly grins, though. It’s softer, sweeter, and you stare mesmerised as he looks away from you again quickly, and down at his linked hands, nodding.

Two days pass, and even when you’re sitting across from him in a small, niche little coffee shop you had no idea existed, you feel like you’re in a dream.

You’ve never seen Hangman out of uniform, you realise, and it’s a whole new experience you’re forced quickly to process when he stands to go get your drinks.

Dark jeans, white shirt, casual jacket. It’s a simple outfit, but goddamn does he make it look good. Nervously you have to wonder if your white and blue sundress, sneakers and bomber jacket were having the same effect on him, though you highly doubt it.

He returns quickly, attentively, placing both your coffees down, before folding himself into his chair once more. You both look at each other awkwardly before you distract yourself by taking a sip of your coffee. Hangman seems to do the same, but instead of drinking, he begins tearing into several little sugar packets, and emptying them into his coffee foam.

You huff out a tiny laugh before you can stop yourself, and his eyes quickly snap to you.

“What?” he asks defensively, but the corners of his mouth twitch.

“I just… I guess I never figured you for a sweet coffee kinda guy…”

“Oh, and why is that?” his twitching lips turn into a full smirk, but it isn’t his usual Hangman smirk. You chew on the inside of your lip, and sip your coffee once more before answering.

“I’m not sure. I guess you just don’t seem like the type of guy who…” you trail off, unsure of what exactly you’re trying to say and even more; how to say it.

“Listen, I may have rippling, glistening abdominals, but I have a sweet tooth,” he says, putting on the defensiveness now, leaning toward you and pointing at himself. You pinch your brows together and purse your lips, nodding vehemently.

“I know how to have fun,” he tells you, tipping a third sugar into his coffee.

“Of that I don’t really doubt, Hangman,” you say, but his gaze snaps back to you again, almost sharply this time.

“Jake.” he corrects you.

You pause.

Of course, you knew his first name, but you’re fairly certain you’ve never once used it. Hangman has just always been, well, Hangman. But you weren’t in a cockpit right now, he’d asked you out, this wasn’t the time and place for callsigns. He wasn’t Hangman, and you weren’t Mirage.

“Jake,” you say slowly, carefully, as if he’ll tell you any moment he’s just kidding around. But he doesn’t.

“Miri,” he replies, slow like you, but softer, and it’s silly, but it sounds so nice coming from him. You shake your head and swallow.

“Jake, if you don’t like coffee, why did you ask me out for one?” you ask him, watching as he blinks slowly at you, before his gaze slowly drops to the latte in front of him.

“If I asked you for a drink, you might’ve got the wrong idea,” he starts, speaking carefully. “If I asked you for dinner, it could be too formal, too awkward–”

“–It’s already awkward,” you point out, making him grimace slightly, so you shrug.

“Coffee just seemed like– I just wanted to–” he cuts himself off and drops both hands to the table.

“Look– I just didn’t want there to be any misunderstanding about what this was. I like you. I know you like coffee.” Jake admits all in a flurry, his voice quiet, and his eyes flickering around as he speaks.

For as long as you’ve known him, you’ve never seen Jake unable to maintain eye contact, actually it seemed to be something he took immense pride in, and it always made you slightly uncomfortable, but right now he appears completely incapable, and it's not a side of Hangman you’ve ever seen before. You realise you might be meeting Jake properly for the first time.

You decide to let him off easy, with all the newfound courage Dagger had been feeding into you the past few weeks, and you change the subject.

“You know, when you came up to me at the Hard Deck that first night, I was kinda surprised you remembered me at all,” you say slowly, sipping your coffee and eying him evenly. Jake frowns then, but it smooths out into a cool grin, and he leans back in his chair, cocking his head.

“Are you kidding? I’m always clocking possible threats.” he tells you, making you cough lightly.

“How am I a threat to you?!” you ask in disbelief.

“Oh, I could name a few,” Jake teases, nodding at you, but flicking his eyes away, almost making a show of clocking an incoming group of customers behind you.

You weren’t clueless, you knew you were a part of Dagger for a reason. You were damn good at your job, but still, Jake was Hangman, not only was he an aviator you respected, he was an aviator with very high personal standards, and for him to see you as comparable to him… well truthfully, you find yourself rather humbled.

And then flustered, at his clear unabashed flirting.

“I always thought you flirting was just you messing with me,” you admit, and he grins wider.

“Can’t it be both?” he asks, leaning forward again, and clasping his hands together. He seems to have no problem maintaining eye contact now, you note. When you cold-stare him, he simply shrugs.

“You’re cute when you get all flustered and nervous, what can I say?”

“Literally anything else.” You grumble back.

You finish your coffee and push the cup to the side, crossing your arms on the table and leaning forward like he was. Jake mimics you, pushing his own coffee away, clearly with no intention to start, let alone finish it. You aren’t as good as him with eye contact though, no matter how much you’d come out of your shell, so you take the opportunity to glance sideways out the window, only for your gaze to catch on something.

Your heart thumps loudly for a moment in your ears, and you wonder briefly if you should act on the thoughts popping around your brain right now, or if you should just stay put.

You lean forward even more, and flick your eyes back to Jake who is staring at you curiously.

“Hey, I have an idea…” you start, chewing on the inside of your lip, before standing up. You only hesitate a little before offering your hand.

“You with me?” you ask without thinking, the words the same as the ones you ask time and again to your wingmen while in flight manoeuvres. Jake stares up at you for a moment, before he too stands, your heart skipping when he takes your hand. With a tiny squeeze you almost don’t notice, Jake grins, and nods.

-

“Oh, hey! Stop! That’s not fair!” You elbow Jake in the side, but it’s already too late. The hand he’d shot out to block your light gun had done its job, and where you’d previously been neck in neck for score on the dual Time Crisis cabinet, Jake’s character was now cheering in victory, while your screen was asking you to insert more coins and try again.

Jake chortles and you both slot your plastic guns back into their plastic holsters at the front of the machine.

“We never agreed to no interference,” he says proudly, and you sock him in the arm only half as hard as you can.

“I didn’t think it needed to be said!” you exclaim pointedly. Jake grins down at you, and collects his tickets.

“Quit complaining, all these are gonna go towards whatever stuffed bear or whatever the hell you want anyway.” He rolls his eyes, and gestures to the shoddy ‘rewards’ counter of the arcade you’d spotted from the coffee shop.

“I want the Minion.” You state firmly after glancing at the redemption counter for three seconds, and spotting the big ugly yellow creature on the top shelf. Jake sighs in a put-upon manner and shakes his head.

“See, this is how you know I really like you. I’m willing to ignore that,” he says, and you actually think he might be serious this time. You grin up at him as he takes your elbow, and begins leading you toward the back of the room.

“What are you going to cheat me out of kicking your ass at this time?” you glance around you, goosebumps trailing up and down your arm as Jake lets his hand slide from around your elbow, down your forearm and into your hand, which he squeezes as if in warning.

“I didn’t cheat, I simply used black ops tactics,” he says, narrowing his eyes at you. You purse your lips at him and narrow your own eyes back.

“Cheat.” you say again, pronouncing each syllable deliberately.

You come to a stop then, and you look up at the old photo booth machine. Jake pulls out a fistfull of tickets, squinting his eyes at the label with instructions, before looking back over at the redemption counter. He seems to run some numbers before he looks back down at you with a grin, and waves the strings of crumpled tickets.

“My cheating means we can use the booth, and still have enough for a Kevin plush, so I don’t wanna hear no more complaining outta you,” he waggles a finger in front of your nose, and you blink up at him sheepishly.

“Jake– I don’t really want the Minion…” you say, before your voice turns suspicious. “Anyway, how do you know which one is Kevin?!” you lift an eyebrow, only for Jake to roll his eyes and push you into the curtained booth.

You orient yourself in the tiny enclosed space, looking around you as Jake takes a moment to feed several lines of win-tickets into the machine before he follows you. He’s forced to duck down real low, making the space even smaller, and you both stare for a moment at the small seat barely big enough for one person, let alone two.

“Well, either you can sit on my lap, or I can sit on yours, darlin’, but I know which one I’d prefer.” Jake intones lowly, and for the first time in an hour or so, you feel yourself get all flustered again. Honestly, you’d kind of forgotten about the explicitly romantic tone of this meeting until now, and more than that, your stomach begins to flip and flop like the first time you’d gotten in a jet when he eases past you and drops himself onto the bench before patting his thighs.

“Jake, maybe if you just move over a litt–”

“No can do, honey,” and he’s not even trying to tease you, he demonstrates the spread of his legs, and the tight fit into the booth, before looking back up at you expectantly again.

“Okay… Okay…” you say more for your own sanity than anything else, and turn, quickly perching yourself on his leg before you can really think too hard about what you're doing.

Your efforts are for naught though, because the moment you’re sat down, Jake’s hands are tugging you against him further, sitting you more comfortably on the thick expanse of his thigh, and you barely repress the noise that nearly escapes you at the feeling of his fingers digging into your hips.

“There we go, sweetheart,” he says softly, almost to himself, and moves his hands to wrap around you completely. If he notices your little noise, which by his self satisfied smirk he definitely has, he thankfully chooses not to say anything. Your face grows warm, not only at the hold he has on you but at the pet name too.

“Did you just call me ‘sweetheart’?” you ask, sounding half bewildered, half incredulous, forgetting for a moment where exactly you were and why. As you look over your shoulder at the man behind you, Jake stares back, his smirk still in place even as his eyes seem to search your face, his own expression mostly unreadable.

“Would you prefer ‘honey’?” he almost purrs, his voice distinctly amused, but you notice that he doesn’t back down, doesn’t apologise or step back.

It makes your stomach twist up in knots. It makes your heartbeat skip like a record.

You turn away from him, shake your head.

“It’s fine,” you tell him bashfully, wanting to grumble slightly when against your back you sense what you think is him puffing his chest a little. Quickly, you add: “Not at work, though…”

Jake chortles, but as you peek over your shoulder to look at him again, he’s relenting, his smirk gone and replaced with a far softer smile as he nods.

“Not at work, though.” he repeats lowly in confirmation, almost making you jump when he shifts one hand to steady you around the waist, his other reaching out to begin fiddling with the controls on the lit up screen in front of you.

“Alright, let's get this show on the road shall we?”

By the time you’re exiting the tiny cubicle, Jake’s hands still attached to your hips as he follows you out, you’re both laughing quietly to yourselves. You’re amazed to find just how much Jake can affect you, either setting you at complete ease or sending you into a tizzy, depending on what he’s said or done. Usually you wouldn’t be surprised by other people’s effects on you, you were jumpy and anxious by nature, but it was rare that somebody who put you on edge as much as Jake did, could also give you such comfort.

When he detaches his hands from your sides at last to survey the sheets of photos spat out by the booth, you marvel at how much you start to miss the contact. With all the subtlety you can muster, you inch closer to him, under the guise of getting a look at the photos as well, though really, you’re only hoping that you might prompt him into reaching out for you again.

Jake chortles and points at a set of two pictures. In one, you’re both grinning madly, pulling silly faces, and in the other, you’re wearing softer smiles, and you notice now, that Jake had pushed his face a little closer to yours. It makes heat rise in your cheeks, not just at the seeming intimacy of the photo, but truthfully, of how much you like seeing the two of you like that.

“You won’t mind if I keep these, will ya?” Jake asks, looking over at you. You simply shake your head, and he grins a little wider, carefully tearing off the two pictures before pulling out his wallet and tucking them inside, for sake keeping, you assume.

Jake lets you keep the rest, and absently, you fold them into the zipper in your purse, too distracted by the fact that he does indeed take your hand again, before quickly releasing it to instead wrap his arm over your shoulder. You can’t stop yourself from smiling a little as you blink dumbly up at him, and he grins down at you, ducking his face even closer to yours.

“Now sweetheart, I believe I was instructed to win you a minion plush.”

-

You try to avoid Phoenix’s hard stare, and focus on wiping down your helmet.

“You’re acting weird,” she finally announces, still managing to make you jump despite your anticipation. You then immediately proceed to do yourself exactly zero favours, proving her point by refusing to look up at her, choosing to instead hurriedly continue with your current task.

“What? No I’m not. I’m fine. You’re being weird,” you argue, wincing at your clearly abysmal attempts at behaving like a normal adult human. You start re-cleaning the pristine surface of your helmet, your nerves conjuring imperfections you logically know don’t exit.

Just before you completely lose yourself down the spiral of unhealthy compulsive behaviours, A hand, Nat’s hand, stops your own. Tugging the cloth out of your hands and taking your helmet away from you, she places it down on the workbench you stand on opposite sides of. Chewing your lip, you at last meet her eye.

“Miri, it’s okay to have a crush–”

“–I don’t have a crush!” You blurt out both far too quickly to be believable, as well as in sheer panic. Your face grows immediately hot, and you can tell Phoenix is trying not to laugh at the show you’re putting on so poorly. Her lips twitch, but her expression softens from amusement into something softer, mixed with traces of pity. Just when you’re starting to debate the pros and cons of sprinting out of the room, getting in your jet, and then flying away never to be seen again, she relents, releasing you from her eye contact and making herself busy as she tidies up bits and bobs littering the workbench.

You swallow thickly, and stay watching her, your heart rate only spiking higher as your anxiety builds once more at her sudden apparent indifference. You follow her movements without moving an inch, sharply aware that not only was she still very much focused solely on scrutinising you, but even more mortifyingly, that this conversation was far from being over.

“Nat,” you say with surprisingly more strudiness than you believed possible, pausing to swallow the dryness in your mouth. “I don’t have a crush, okay?” You wait for her to look back over at you, nothing but disbelief rolling off of her faux-casualty, giving you a bullshit shrug and a smile.

“Okay.” she says. You had hoped that would be enough, but you should have known better. You clear your throat again.

“Nat,” you say, only making yourself louder, as if that was a sign of nothing going on. She looks up at you somewhat blankly. You know you’re totally screwed already as her eyes dip to watch your finger begin quickly tapping on the bench before you with barely any acknowledgement from yourself. “There’s nothing weird going on,” you say, pleading with your voice and face and every atom of your being that she drops it.

She drops something, unfortunately it’s not the subject though, but you still feel some semblance of stress leaving your body as her fake lack of care dissolves, and she leans back to rest against the cabinet behind her. She crosses her arms and shrugs again while letting out a soft, pitying sigh, which this time doesn’t raise your non-existent heckles as much as it had when it first showed its face.

You stare at one another, at what you think is an impasse and wordless agreement to now never talk of this episode in your friendship ever again, but once again, you should have known better.

“If it’s any consolation, I think he has a crush on you too, so it's not like it’s a total waste of energy… despite all evidence to the contrary,” She says conversationally at first, before muttering out the last part under her breath.

“He doesn’t,” you state with so much certainty you almost forget for a moment that it’s not even a little bit true. Instead, crossing your arms too, you feel like a middle schooler having a much too serious fight with her friend at lunch. “We’ve just become closer, like all of the squad have. You’re just noticing it cause you want to!” you’re a little taken aback by the sound logic of your own reasoning, all points earned to your side then immediately becoming forfeit when you can’t help yourself from stupidly continuing to speak. “Why? Has he said something?!”

Your outburst of near-giddy excitement destroys all chances of you walking this back, and you find yourself with only one option left available. But your prior readiness to exit out of this failed interaction at roughly 300 kts/min becomes soberingly not so fun to fantasise about when you sheepishly remember the current charges against you, for the theft of the $70 million dollar military aircraft you’d technically stolen when you and Jake had taken a joy ride to pick up Mav and Rooster.

You're snapped back into the present as Natasha Trace regards you unreadably and slowly lifts one perfect eyebrow at you. You cover your face and hang your head, you reason with your now permanently mortified brain that if you just admitted to the thing she already believed to be true, she’d stop looking any closer, possibly finding out something actually secret.

It helps that your embarrassment for the flurry of extremely obvious questions is very real, and you groan into your palms. You hear before you see Phoenix laugh, listening to her chortle at your outing yourself, but you notice that he demeanour is warmer now, and she pushes herself up to sit on the top of the bench between you, crossing her legs.

“He’s not said a thing, but he doesn’t need to,” she tells you, seemingly glad to just be able to share her findings and observations, which you uncomfortably realise have been going on for a lot longer than you realised.

“It's what he’s not saying,” she explains, and you blink up at her in genuine curiosity.

“Huh?”

Phoenix turns her gaze upward as she thinks.

“He doesn’t make fun of you… or snipe at you, not really,” she begins, resting her head in her hand. “To be honest when we first met, I was expecting to defend you. You’re a good pilot, a great one, but Hangman isn’t exactly known for recognising that in others…”

You frown up at her, unsure of anything to say to abate her suspicions.

She’s not exactly wrong, even when the two of you were first stationed together, he’d never poked fun at you, never really called you out. To be fair, he hadn’t really acknowledged your presence at all, but these days you knew that was more to do with the fact that all this time, Hangman had liked you, had seen you were shy, and didn’t like crowds, and as you’d found out recently, often made more of a spectacle of himself to draw attention away from you.

You have to stop yourself from smiling dreamily at the thought of him.

“And I mean, he disobeyed direct orders for you, he knew what you were doing, and he went with you anyway… I’m just saying Miri, I don’t think you’d be disappointed if you were to say something–”

You quickly cut her off.

“I’m not saying anything to him!”

At last, given your already clear admittance of your supposed ‘crush’, Phoenix relents, holding up her hands and shrugging.

“Just think about it alright? It’s even sort of… cute, in a weird, Hangman-y way.”

You grumble at her, but thankfully she doesn’t bring it up again for the rest of the afternoon. Still, you leave the workshop with a sparkling helmet, cleaner than you think it ever has been, and with a pressing matter to relay to your boyfriend, most of which involves playing it much, much cooler in front of Phoenix the next time you all hang out.

-

You know you’ve made some personal growth when you answer the door in your matching Star Wars X-Wing PJ’s and slippers, and aren’t immediately mortified.

Jake stands there, already grinning back at you, and looking like a greek god sent to earth in his dark jeans and plain white shirt.

“Red Leader Mirage, your rescuer has arrived!” he announces, doing what you judge to be a surprising spot-on impression of Lt. Porkins from Star Wars, shooting a lazily salute down at slippers

Unfortunately, you aren’t given the chance to ask him more about his perfect Red Six however, as he’s almost immediately pushing away from where he’d been leaning against the side of your door, posing for your perusal you assume, and holds out a brown paper bag for you to take. You swipe it, and shoot him a thankful smile.

“Thank you, Jake, really…” you side-step his self-congratulatory jokes, but he doesn’t seem phased, simply shrugging, and taking a step closer to you, letting one hand rest gently on your shoulder, before he hooks it and tugs you into him.

You’d started getting all-too familiar with just how physically attentive Jake seemed to be, something you would never have guessed about him several weeks ago, but had come to terms with now. Clingy was never a word you would have used to describe him before. He hugs you briefly, then pulls back to look down at you, his brow furrowed and his expression filled with genuine concern, another thing you’d been getting more familiar with.

“How’re you feeling?” he asks, inviting himself in by walking you backwards and kicking your door closed lightly behind him. You’d come not to mind this sort of thing either, but mostly because you know if you asked him to leave again, he would, no questions asked. That was another new thing you’d been learning about Jake Seresin.

In comparison to how Hangman could be up in the sky, Jake was entirely understanding, one hundred percent supportive, and almost a little too observant when it came to your particular anxieties. It meant he often knew without you saying when to push you, and when to not, and on the occasion that you did need to say, he always respected those boundaries.

It was starting to make you nervous, how much you were growing to like him.

“Cramps are kicking my ass, but other than that, mostly fine. Thank you for these,” you try again, hoping that he really understands just how much you appreciate him coming over for you tonight. Never in your life would you have imagined feeling comfortable enough to ask Hangman to stop by the pharmacy and pick you up sanitary products, and never would you have imagined he’d make no issue of it.

“Sure,” he says, again with a shrug. “You want me to head out?” he asks then, tipping his head back at your door, even as he inches his face closer to yours, brushing his nose tip against yours. Your lips quirk, then break out into a full smile when he grins before dipping low enough to press a kiss to the corner of your mouth. Your stomach somersaults and pulls at least ten G’s for sure as he continues to brush his lips against yours teasingly.

This hadn’t taken much getting used to at all. Jake was a good kisser, and had proved it after your second date, almost in the exact place you were now, both his hands cupping your cheeks and his lips full on yours, hungry and insistent. That had been almost four weeks ago now, but after his hands had tugged your hips flush to his, you’d quickly put the breaks on.

You were still slightly uncertain about going further with Jake so soon. The fact was, you worked together in a high impact, high stress job, and if anything should happen between you, it would be easier to keep things professional if you took it slow

Jake had, to your slight surprise, though you aren't sure exactly what you were expecting, nodded slowly and taken a step back. He’d told you that the only thing he wanted more than you, was for you to want him too. You’d had to explain that your position wasn’t because you didn’t want him, which had led to more making out, but he hadn’t pushed to go further and he’d left that night with the affirmation that however long you wanted to wait was alright by him.

“No, you can stay,” you tell him, wrapping your arms around his neck to stop him from pulling away too much as you try not to full-on pout. Jake smiles against your lips and presses into you further, moving to push you against the wall, where he crowds your space entirely and stops teasing you, capturing your lips with his at last.

You’re about to experimentally slide your hand up his shirt, a thought that had been lingering in your mind more and more these past few days, but your kiss is over too soon, and he pulls back, leaving you breathless.

“Weren’t you waiting for me, so you could do chores?” he prompts, nearly making you grumble. Instead you nod, and gently push back against him, heading towards your bedroom just down the main hall.

“You can wait in here if you like,” you suggest, feeling a little nervous about the idea, but it was something you’d been thinking about for a while now. Even if you and Jake weren’t sleeping together, that didn’t mean the two of you couldn’t sleep together, did it? It was something you’d wanted, specifically with him, but not really something you’d ever experienced before. You were ready to move out of these early stages of your relationship, eager to push yourself and your limits just a little, so you could settle into something more comfortable with Jake, something where you weren’t always a little surprised when he touched you, or called you by one of his innumerable pet names.

Jake shoves his hands in his pockets and nods, clearly thinking through what this invitation could mean as he follows you quietly.

“Um, I feel like I should say ‘excuse the mess’, but you know–” you cut yourself off and gesture around your bedroom when you both have entered. Jake snorts.

“Well that’s what being in the Navy gets you. I won’t judge if you say it anyway,” he tells you lightly, and you scoff.

“Yes you will!” you insist, and are met with a confident, familiar cheshire-grin.

“Mhm, but only a little. Have you changed your mind, honey?” he steps toward you again then, almost closing the distance in one stride, his hands still shoved in his pockets, but his gaze locked intently on you in a way you haven’t felt since that second date. Your heart beats so loudly you’re sure he must be able to hear, but he doesn’t mention it, just waits for you, crowding your space again.

“Oh, I– No… not… I didn’t… I’m sorry…”

The moment you speak Jake is stepping back, pulling his hands from his pockets to hold them up, his expression losing the intensity again.

“No need to apologise, my mistake.” Jake’s words are sincere, but he looks away from you.

You let out a little sigh.

“It’s just so soon, and with the trial–”

“–You don’t have to explain yourself, honey,” Jake pulls his hands from his pockets at last and places them at your waist, drawing you in. You fall quiet as he lowers his face to yours, though he teases you again by not kissing you, simply looking you over, and then smirking when you pout. “You want it when you want it, and that’s when I want it, okay?”

He makes you nod, before he at last lowers his lips to meet yours and kisses you, slow and sweet. You finally get the chance to test the waters a little, easing your hand carefully underneath the back of his shirt, making you giggle against his mouth when he jumps slightly at the feel of your skin on his. Jake doesn’t say or do anything about it though, thankfully just letting you explore a little as he tips your head back further to deepen your kiss, and you brush your fingers up his spine.

After a short while of this, he must feel the urge to tease you again, because with little to no hesitation at all, unlike you, he slips his hands beneath your shirt, his warm palms gripping onto the bare skin just above your PJ shorts, almost making you moan. You’re glad you’re able to hold back the sound, mostly, but your own surprise doesn’t go unnoticed by the blond currently kissing you.

He only continues doing so for a short minute longer, before he’s eventually pulling back, lips pink and kiss swollen. You can’t help but frown at the parting. He squeezes your waist, and nudges your nose with his own.

“What do you want to do, honey?”

You groan at the apparent lack of making out in your future, not because you don’t think he’d agree, but mostly because you’re not quite ready to ask him for more, though a part of you senses he’s not willing to let you off the hook for those chores you’d told him about earlier.

“I need to fold this laundry,” you point past him, to your walk-in wardrobe and the basket that lies within. Jake looks over at it and lifts an eyebrow, which you choose to ignore. He nods then, and takes a step away from you, making you frown even more when his hands fall from your body.

“I’ll help,” he says, making your eyes widen, and you quickly step around him to block his path, where he is clearly about to make for your basket.

“No! Um… It’s okay, It’ll be easier if I just do it…” you trail off, wondering if you sound insane and neurotic, but Jake simply raises his hands again and nods.

“Well, what do you want me to do?” he prods, and you realise, he’s come inside thinking you want him to help with your chores.

“I was thinking… I was thinking it might just be nice for you to just… be here?” You cringe, and narrowly avoid making a face at yourself. Jake blinks at you as if he doesn’t understand.

“You want me to… sit around while you do laundry?” he asks, tone confused, but equally unimpressed. You nod. Jake shifts, then clicks his tongue. “I was not raised to let somebody work while I sit and watch, especially not my girl. My mother would tan my hide.”

You’re a little surprised by the seriousness on his face, despite the humorous inflection in his voice. You suck in a breath, mulling over how to explain to him what you had been thinking when he came inside. Jake’s eyes flicker over you for a moment before he shifts again, crossing his arms and lifting his chin at you.

“Alright sweetheart, just say what you gotta say, I can hear those cogs turning from here…”

“I… I like that you want to help me, I think that’s really sweet…”

“But…?” Jake prompts.

“I find this kinda thing hard, and I was hoping we could just try and do something… domestic…? Together?” your face goes hot at your admission, and when Jake doesn’t immediately respond you wonder if using the word ‘domestic’ was too much, too soon.

“What is ‘this kind of thing’? I get the other part honey,” again, his voice is playful, but you see the seriousness behind his eyes and it lends you even more comfort. How is he so good at this? It’s almost like he’d read your teenage diary entry all about your perfect guy… it's the sort of attention, care, and behaviour that you’ve never actually gotten from a guy you were seeing before, so you aren’t really sure how to compose yourself.

“This kind of thing,” you gesture between you and him, before clearing your throat. “I don't know what to call it– us, but–”

“–a relationship.” Jake cuts in firmly, and you pause, heart thumping. You hadn't actually had this discussion yet, but you guess you’re having it now.

“Right. I mean, I’ve been in relationships before, but they’ve never really worked out and I feel like I never get to the point with boyfriends where I feel fully comfortable, so I–” you clamp your mouth shut, both at the use of ‘boyfriend’, and at the fact you were rambling, and you’re pretty sure it's too early to start telling him about how all your prior relationships failed.

“Right. So, let me get this straight; you were going to come back in here and put your laundry away, regardless of me being here?” Jake holds up a hand as he repeats back the information.

“Yeah…”

“And you just want me to keep you company?”

You nod, and clear your throat.

“Yeah.”

Jake stares at you, a level of understanding crossing his face, before his eyes flick to your laundry behind you, then back to your face.

“... And you’re sure I can’t help you?” His resolve sounds weak, and you think he’s already made up his mind to do as you asked, but his upbringing requires him to triple check. You smile, and this time step toward him, gingerly resting your hand on his arm, which he immediately raises, and flips, sliding it so now you’re holding his hand.

Again, you can’t fathom how he got so good at this sort of thing. Your knees go wobbly.

“I have a bunch of lacy unmentionables in there, so…” you try to lighten things, but it's not a lie. Jake picks up what you’re putting down, and gives your hand a squeeze. He tips his chin at you and lifts an eyebrow.

“Now why’d you have to go and say that honey? You sure you’re certain I can’t help?” his hands slip from yours to rest at your hips again, completely bypassing your top this time and your heart stutters.

You bite your lip, and nod your head, trying not to laugh him off fully, because while that may be your instinctual nervous reaction, you didn’t want to discourage him entirely. You liked that Jake acted as if you were a pretty girl, like you were desirable, and not like the awkward dork you actually were. You didn't want him to stop doing that.

His expression turns a little softer, and he leans down, moving slowly as to give you time to process, and he presses his lips to your cheek, lingering for just a moment before he taps your sides with his fingers, then steps away.

You’re still catching your breath when he looks back at you, pointing at what looks like one corner of your bed.

“Can I?”

You nod, and gesture at the whole mattress.

“Make yourself comfortable!”

–

You can feel the pounding music of the club in your whole body. The lights flashing and dancing in different colourways in time with the music give everything around you an ever changing aura, and maybe it’s all the drinks you’ve had tonight, but in front of you, Natasha seems to glow.

Her hands grasp your forearm firmly and you giggle, uncharacteristically carefree as you almost slip again.

“Alright! Okay, let's get you seated!” she says. She’s had a few too, but not nearly as many as you, and you’re glad for it now as she steers you toward the bar and grabs a paper cup to fill with water from the nearby water station toward the end. You find yourself drinking it without prompting, but miss the taste of the fruity cocktails you’d been downing all night. “I’ll call us a cab,” she says, beginning to pull out her phone, but you hastily stop her, placing a hand on her arm and shaking your head rapidly, making the colours spin even more.

“No! My boyfriend said he’d pick us up!” you insist, ignoring the way her eyebrows shoot up, then stitch together.

“You boyfriend?” she asks, but you miss the real question behind her words, instead you simply nod, and begin to fumble around in your own purse until you find your phone. Nat watches you expectantly as you open your messages, quickly tapping ‘call' on the top icon, and pressing the phone to one ear, and your finger to the other.

It rings less than once before it connects.

“Heeyy!” you sigh in relief down the line, happy to even just hear his voice after all night going without. “Yeah, no, everything’s alright, you just said to call you when we were done!” you say in reply to his amused questioning. You look up at Nat briefly, and if you were more sober, you might’ve been able to tell that she was leaning in slightly to try and hear the voice on the other end, but you aren’t, so you don’t.

“Okay, I’ll meet you out front!” you tell him excitedly, before adding on; “Is it okay if we give Nat a ride home too?” there's a short reply, and at last you’re smiling wide and nodding, even though he can’t see you. “Okay, we’ll see you soooon!”

You hang up and stare back up at Natasha, who's giving you a funny look that you ignore. “He said he’ll be here in ten, he’s been at the sports bar in town waiting!” you tell her dreamily, like she might understand what it means to you that Jake would choose to remain only a short distance away in case you needed anything, in the knowledge that you didn’t always enjoy nights out like this.

Nat simply nods and after making you drink one more glass of water, you begin making your way through the crowds and out of the club.

The air outside is warm, but refreshing and you take in as much of it as you can, not realising how stuffy the air inside the club had been until now. It was getting late, and bars and restaurants around the club are lit up and busy, the streets all around full of people either on their way to their destination, or lingering as they talk.

It doesn’t take long for you to spot Jake’s car and he pulls up close to the curb, allowing you to beeline for the passengers side door, not realising that Natasha follows with more confusion and trepidation. Jake jumps out of the car to greet you, rounding it to quickly steady your wobbly walk with a hand on your hip, and with the other, he pulls open the car door and helps you inside, leaning in to help you buckle in, grinning even as he murmurs quietly.

“You had a good night, sweetheart?” he asks, clicking your seatbelt into place for you, making you giggle at him. You lean forward for a kiss, but he dodges you, somewhat more aware than you are of your present company, and instead rests his hand so he can squeeze your knee. Your good mood isn’t spoiled and you barely notice the dodged kiss, so you simply nod your assent to his question vehemently.

“I had a lot to drink!” you tell him, before bursting out into giggles again, the soft, sweet smile Jake gives you going unnoticed as he squeezes your leg again.

“Yes you did,” he says with clear, fond amusement, and at last moves back so he can shut your door.

Unlike you, on the other hand, Natasha may as well be sober as a judge, and she eyes Jake somewhat distrustfully as she steps closer, lifting her chin up at him as she talks.

“What’re you doing here?” she asks accusingly, making Jake cock his head at her, only half as annoyingly as he can. He gestures back at you in the front seat of his car.

“Miri called, sounded pretty hammered,” he tells her as if that explained it. Natasha narrows her eyes and crosses her arms.

“Yeah, but she said she was calling her boyfriend, what’re you doing here?” She dares him to reply with anything but the truth, however luckily for Jake, unlike most men caught in her crossfire, he’s able to brush her off with an infuriating grin.

“I guess she dialled the wrong number, do you want a lift home or not?”

At his ultimatum (however hollow it really is, he wouldn’t leave her on her own in the middle of the night), Natasha frowns darker at him, but accepts the door he opens, waiting for her to get settled before he closes it behind her and returns to the driver's side.

When Jake checks his rearview he notes in amusement that Nat has situated herself in the middle seat, giving herself a perfect view of the two of you in the front. You don’t, nor do you seem to have any weariness in the bloodhound you’ve just set upon the both of you, but if he’s honest, Jake had known from day one that the second Natasha Trace suspected anything, your little secret was over.

He drives back as normally as he can, but it's strange to him now to have you sitting right there in his passenger's seat, and not have his hand in yours, or on your thigh. It’s strange to him to be in this space where the two of you are usually so open with your affection, and have to suppress it. Jake does not like it.

The car ride home is quiet, you seem content to look out the window, the tiredness hitting you now, but every so often he and Nat make small talk about whatever football scores interested them in the past week or two, and before too long, he’s pulling up outside her home.

Looking over at you to find that you’re slumped over asleep on his window, Jake follows Natasha out of the car with a simple offer of making sure she gets in alright. The congeniality doesn’t last very long, and once they’re standing on her porch she turns to him with a frown.

“You don’t really think I’m that stupid, do you?” she asks, for once not sounding angry or scolding, but seemingly subdued, maybe even a little upset. Jake sighs and runs a hand through his hair. Looking back to his car to make sure you’re still alright, he levels his squadmate with a serious expression.

“No, I do not,” he tells her sincerely. “But it’s Miri’s choice to not want to be public yet, all I’m asking is that you respect that,” he goes on after a moment. He doesn’t really believe she would say anything, but he feels the need to get her agreement, if only for your peace of mind in the morning.

Nat hums to herself and briefly looks away to fish out her keys. Once she has them in hand, she looks up at him again, a little grin on her face this time.

“How long?” she asks. Jake rolls his eyes and can’t resist the urge to mess with her just a little.

“Few years,” he states matter of factly, waiting for her eyes to pop wide before he lets out a victorious laugh and shakes his head. “A month or two,” he admits truthfully, accepting the hard sock in the arm as Nat scoffs at him and moves to unlock her front door.

“Something, something, I’ll kick your ass if you hurt her,” she grumbles as she steps inside, immediately kicking off her shoes. Jake straightens up and gives her a mock salute.

“Yes Ma’am,” he says, chortling to himself as he receives a middle finger for his efforts and the door is closed and locked again.

Jake feels a little lighter on his walk back to his car, and when he climbs in, he leans over to carefully adjust your crooked neck and make sure your belt is still strapped properly. You wake a little, confused at first, and blink up at him in happy wonderment.

“Hey!” you mumble, like it's the first time you’ve seen him tonight. Jake chuckles and leans closer to press a kiss to your forehead.

“Let’s get you home baby.”

–

You awake the next morning with nowhere near the headache you’re expecting, but with an array of distinct memories that cause a pit to open up in your stomach. The pit then begins to growl as you register the warm, homey smell of food, and with little effort, you force yourself up and into the kitchen, where you immediately attach yourself to Jake’s bare back.

His skin is warm and feels so comfy against your cheek, and the soft little laugh he gives makes your belly flop around. He lets you stay like that for a few moments more, moving slowly but smoothly so you can move with him, and at last when whatever he’s doing with his hands is finished, he reaches around for you and rests his hands where he can.

“Did I really call you last night? While with Nat?” you squeeze your eyes shut, hoping you’d just imagined it all, but another soft chuckle lets you know you hadn’t.

“Never thought you’d be the one to let our little secret slip first. I underestimated you baby.”

You groan into his back, and try to hide your face, but before you can complain or dodge him, Jake has turned himself around, letting you instead smoosh your face in between his gloriously golden pecs, and you think things may not be so bad.

He wraps his arms around you properly, and for a moment you just stay like that. You wonder if you can convince him to come around shirtless more often, the warmth radiating off his skin feeling heavenly, not to mention he looked almost as delicious as the food he’d made. You wonder if he’d already worked out this morning, or if you can join him after breakfast.

One of Jake’s hands moves away from your back and cups the back of your head tenderly, making you mewl slightly, and you look up at him to give the attention you know he’s asking for. Jake stares down at you with a soft little grin, and readjusts himself slightly, so he’s able to drop his lips to meet yours briefly.

One kiss becomes two kisses, becoming three kisses and after that any semblance of chastity is given up on and he kisses you full and sweet, deliberately slow like he’s teasing you to ask for more, but for now you’re simply content to wash away all of last nights worries like this.

Coming up for air, Jake barely breaks apart from you, his lips still brushing yours when he speaks.

“I asked Nat not to say anything, she respects you enough to do that I think,” he says, dropping a few more soft kisses to your mouth when you crane your neck up for more. He goes no further this time, though, and leans back from you to gauge your reaction after several moments, and you force yourself to open your eyes and pout.

“It’s not that I think she’ll tell anyone…” you say to him, scrunching up your features as you recall your lack of playing it cool the first time she had brought Jake up to you. The memory makes you grumble to yourself, and you once more attempt to hide your face in his chest. Jake laughs, and makes you jump when he pokes your side.

“What is it?” he asks, like he already knows. You tell him, voice muffled in his skin, but clear enough for the details of your embarrassing inability to throw the scent off to be heard. Jake’s body shakes with more laughter as you relay the information, but instead of trying to make you stop hiding away, he simply cups the back of your head again, and holds it nearer, allowing you to wither your embarrassment away in the safety of him.

“I think we both know that the minute that woman suspected anything, it was game over,” he tells you once you’re done, still holding you close, but you feel his lips press to the top of your head sweetly, and you do your best to snuggle yourself closer.

After the bulk of your mortification has eased away, Jake makes you detach from him, but only so the two of you can eat your breakfast while it’s still hot.

“You know I don’t want to keep it quiet, like, forever, right?” you ask out of nowhere, your memories of last night replaying over in your head while you ate. Jake looks up at you and cocks his head.

“I’m happy to do whatever you’d like to do, for as long as you’d like to do it,” he says matter of factly, but despite the sweetness of his words, you can’t help but frown at him.

“No you’re not, and we both know it,” you push back, grateful for his always tender manner of going at your pace, but you’d likely never have been with him in the first place if he hadn’t thrown you out of your comfort zone that first time.

The only difference is, now you are with Jake, and you understood these things about yourself, and how they weren’t always as scary as your mind might make them seem. Jake frowns back at you, clearly ready to protest.

“I know you pretty well too, you know,” you cut him off. “I know you like PDA, and that you wish you were able to be more open when we’re out with people. I know you like to show off, and part of that includes me,” you tell him adamantly, because you know you’re right.

Jake huffs out a sigh and leans back in his chair, looking at you dead on, you know him well enough to know he’s a little annoyed at you calling him out, but you aren’t doing it to annoy him or just for the sake of starting an argument.

“Okay, so what if I do? That doesn’t change the fact that until you want something, I’m not gonna go for it,” he says, still frowning at you like he doesn’t understand what the point of talking this through is even about.

You change tack and, with your heart beat thumping a little wildly, get up from your seat and move toward him. Even in his annoyance, Jake makes room for you, pushes out his chair and wraps his arms around your waist when you seat yourself on his thigh, your own arms linking around his neck.

“Well maybe I’m giving you permission to go for it,” you say softly, quietly, because the idea still does make you incredibly nervous. But you like Jake, no scratch that, you think you’re in love with Jake, and you think he’s in love with you too, and something about that feeling for once in your life makes you want the same things he does too, including the PDA. You want him to sling his arm around your neck, you want to be able to kiss his cheek or hold his hand or whatever it is you two want to do, not just in the comfort of your own homes, but out at the Hard Deck with your friends, too.

Jake blinks up at you, like at first your words don’t even register, but then he’s tightening his hold around your waist, and grinning wolfishly up at you, all cocky and infuriating if you didn’t find it utterly charming. If you didn’t completely adore him, even this part.

“Permission granted, Lieutenant?” he asks mischievously, and you can’t stop yourself from giggling, like you’re drunk all over again.

“Permission granted, Lieutenant!”

[hsrockstargf]

Object of Desire*

AN: this is my first time posting on here so please be gentle☺️

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summary: Honey Rose, one of the most sought after adult film actress, get picked to do a scene for director Harry Styes. What happens when she finds out that he will be the one doing the scene with her?

work count: 7.5k

tropes: pornstarry

warnings: 18+, language, explicit smut, fluff

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Lights, Camera, Action. 

I’ve always wanted to hear those words be uttered before a scene- to feel the adrenaline rush as I make the script come to life. As a little kid I would whisper them to myself before I would put on a short skit for my grandma, and it made me feel like I was a real movie star. Now at 26 years old- I am the furthest thing from a movie star, but I guess an actress could be the term for my job. 

The adrenaline that I love to feel rush through my veins is present as well as the nervousness that is making my hands sweat slightly. The possibilities of today swirl around my mind as I walk down the long corridor to meet the director of today’s shoot. 

I never thought this is what I would be doing to keep a roof over my head and food in my belly, but I can’t say I’m disappointed. What started out as occasionally posing for a lingerie company to help me get through school turned into signing up for an OnlyFans and making $7,000 a week. 

I never did anything too risque on my page, only posting pictures of me half naked without showing my face and occasionally taking a few requests from subscribers. My following grew exponentially and it continued until I didn’t know how to manage all of the content people were asking me to film. 

A few months ago, a manger reached out to me wanting to represent me. Although this was a far fetch from the job I’ve always wanted, I couldn’t turn it down. Having sex in front of a camera with a whole team watching you and a million more waiting to see it with a person you barely know is scary and intimidating- but I took the job anyway. I like the money and sometimes the sex is actually quite enjoyable when I can get out of my own head.  

This particular job came as a surprise to both me and my manager. Usually, my manager would reach out to a filming company, give them my head shots, and then wait to hear back if they wanted to use me for the scene they were wanting to film, but for this one the director himself reached out to my manager. Apparently, he had seen some of my work and wanted me to be one of the stars in his new video. 

Harry Styles- is the biggest name in the porn industry and someone you don’t say no to.  Not only is he one of the hottest and sought after pornstars, but he is also known for being a fantastic director. Every single one of his videos has at least a million views, if not more; they are hot and sensual, plucked right from all the fantasies that I’ve stored away in my brain. He started out just like everyone else, at the bottom of the totem pole, but he became so successful so fast that everyone in the industry wanted to work with him. Recently, he’s been focusing more on the directing side of his job, foregoing the acting part which many people have complained about, but of course he doesn't care. 

I’m not embarrassed to admit that I’ve gotten myself off multiple times from watching him. Just listening to his deep, slow, and raspy voice would make my cunt slick before reaching into my night stand to grab my purple bullet vibrator. I would press it to my clit and circle it around while I watched him kiss down the length of the random girl’s body before he would uncover her wet pussy and taste her for the first time. He would use both his tongue and fingers to get her off before fucking her into the matress, making her scream out in pleasure as he takes her from behind and slaping the plump flesh of her ass as she comes on his thick cock. He would fuck her through her orgasm, and the sound of both of their moans would make my stomach swirl with pleasure. I would always tease myself, not letting myself come until I knew he was about to orgasm. To not disturb my neighbors, I would flip around on my belly with my vibrator still pressed closely to my swollen clit and bite into my pillow as I listened to his deep moans as he came, finally finding my release alongside him. 

It’s gonna be hard for me to look him in the eye today and not picture him like that; to not think of the way his back muscles flex while hovering over his partner, thrusting into them as hard and fast as he can or the way the vein on his neck pops out when he tilts his head back in pleasure. I don’t even know if I’ll be able to focus on my costar as Harry directs us, only focusing on him and what he wants from me. 

“Honey?” A small woman stands in front of me, holding a clipboard and a pair of headphones hanging around her neck. “Honey Rose?” 

“Yeah, that’s me. Sorry, I guess I’m a little distracted.” I answer to my stage name, and laugh off my embarrassment. She giggles along with me, easing my nerves. 

With an extended hand she says, “Hi, I’m Jenny, Harry’s assistant.” I take her hand and offer her a smile. “I’ll be showing you around and then I’ll take you to meet him.” After we shake hands she pulls away and turns around. “Follow me and I’ll show you where you can put your stuff.” 

We make small talk while walking down the hallway towards an unknown destination. Jenny rattles off all the things she did this morning, preparing for the shoot and she also tells me how excited Harry is to meet me. 

My stomach once again flips at the thought of being in his presence, but I don’t get a chance to think about it more when Jenny stops in front of a door that says ‘Honey Rose.’ 

“I get my own dressing room?” 

Jenny looks at me with her eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “Of course you do. Have you never had one before?” She opens the door, stepping to the side to let me walk in the room first. “Harry always makes sure his stars are taken care of.” 

I shake my head while walking in the room. It’s nothing too extravagant, with a love seat couch tucked in the corner with a small coffee table in front of it and a vanity on the far left wall, but it’s nicer than anything I’ve gotten before. Usually I have to get undressed in front of all the crew before slipping into a robe, so having this space puts me at ease. 

At least I’ll have some privacy throughout this shoot. 

“If you just wanna set your stuff down I’ll take you to meet Harry. He’s just now finishing setting up the bedroom set.” I take my coat off and hang it over the back of the chair and then place my purse on the coffee table. “You ready?” 

“As I’ll ever be.” I stick my hands in my pockets to hide the fact that they are shaking and follow after Jenny. For being as tiny as she is she sure can walk fast and I find myself wishing she would slow down so I can prepare myself. 

The set is a normal looking bedroom. It’s cozy, warm, and inviting. The bed is dawned in white sheets, a white duvet, and a tan throw with brown pillows. The bedside tables are decorated with items to make it look like someone actually lives here and a mirror leans against the wall across from the bed. 

There aren't a lot of people in this room right now, some are setting up certain light fixtures and others are testing out the equipment, but I immediately know which one is Harry. Dressed in long black flared trousers and a matching black shirt, he stands next to the mirror, angling it so it perfectly aims at the head of the bed. 

He hasn’t noticed us yet, but when Jenny clears her throat he looks up in the mirror and immediately makes eye contact with me. “Harry, this is -”

“Honey Rose.” My fake name rolls off his lips and I find myself begging to hear him use my real name. “I know who she is, Jenny. Would be kind of hard not to know.” Harry stuffs one hand in his pocket and makes his way over to me. “I’m Harry.” He extends his hand out to me and it takes me a second before I do the same. 

“Hi, it’s nice to meet you, Harry.” I hope he doesn’t see the school girl blush on my cheeks, but I can’t help but find myself so taken with him. His hair falls perfectly in waves in a slight middle part that frames his face. There is a shadow of facial hair surrounding his jaw and around his lips, drawing attention to the pinkness of them. His eyes shine bright compared to the darkness of his hair; beautiful sea green staring straight at me. The tattoos on his arm stand out and I find myself looking over each and every one, but then I remember that I’m still holding onto his hand. I let go rather quickly and he chuckles at me. “I’m excited to work with you. I’ve heard nothing but great things.” 

“Well, I should hope so.” Two dimples pop out on the sides of his cheeks as he smiles while pushing his hair back and off his forward. “But I’m curious, are they talking about my directing skills or how I fuck?” 

I keep myself composed, even though all I want to do is tell him that my information is coming from the videos that I’ve watched of him. I gather up all the confidence in my body and say, “Both, but I guess I’ll only be seeing one of those talents today.” 

A confused look flashes across his face, but he doesn’t let it last. His lips perk up and he quietly says, “We’ll see about that.” Now it's my turn to be confused. I open my mouth to ask him what he means by that but he stops me. “Honey, would you mind joining me in my office? I just want to go over a few things with you, if that’s all right.” 

“Of course. Whatever you need.” Harry places his hand on my lower back and escorts us out of the room. His office isn’t too far away, but the walk is filled with a thick tension. He ushers me in, and tells me to sit on the couch like the one similar to mine in my dressing room. Harry takes a seat next to me, not sitting behind the desk which honestly makes me feel more equal to him. 

“As you may know, my videos are praised for how real and authentic they seem. I don’t do the corny pizza delivery guy bullshit or any of those cheesy porns that have terrible dialogue and even worse acting. I like to make everyone on set feel comfortable, so that they can actually feel the pleasure instead of faking it. Does that make sense?” He crosses one of his legs over the other, and the way his trousers move it showcases his thick thighs bulging under the surface of the fabric. 

“It makes perfect sense, and I really respect what you are doing here. Most of the time they just throw me in a room with a guy and just tell me to fuck him.” 

“I can promise you that’s not gonna be the case today, but I do need to ask you a few questions. You can answer whichever ones you want or not if you don’t want to.”  I nod my head at him, telling him I understand. That smirk reappears on his face, but this time I don’t get so flushed. The way he’s looking at me makes me want to sit on top of his desk and have his head be buried in my cunt. “I just need to know so I can fuck you just how you like it.” 

“Y-you’re gonna be the one fu- in the scene with me?” My heart rate picks up in anticipation and I hope I didn’t just hear him wrong. He hasn’t done a video in such a long time. Why would he start now? 

“That wasn’t the original plan.” Harry stands up, walking closer to me before crouching down in front of me. His knees touch mine and even through the fabric of both of our clothes I can feel his warm skin. “When I was looking for the girl for this shoot I came across one of your videos.” Harry’s fingertip grazes over my knee and he starts to draw circles on it. “It was just you, laying on a bed, with a vibrator on your pretty little pussy.” He looks up at me, and grabs a hold of my jaw. “You had beautiful moans coming from these lips. I just knew that I couldn’t sit there and watch someone fuck you, not when I could be the one doing it.” 

I turn my head, still keeping eye contact with him. His thumb that was on my jaw now rests against the skin of my lips. I puker them, softly kissing his thumb before taking it into my mouth for just a moment. “You want to fuck me, Harry?” His eyes are dark, lustfully watching as I kiss his thumb, suck on it, and then let it plop from between my lips. 

“Oh, honey.” Harry moves his hand away from my face, placing it on my knee again. With both hands, he pushes my thighs apart and situates himself between them. “You have no fucking clue.” I burn under his gaze. His touch is light and teasing, kneading the muscles of my thighs while he looks up at me. “I still need you to answer a few questions for me. Can you do that for me, honey?” 

“Please, call me Emma.” I don’t mind being called Honey. In fact it makes me feel confident and sexy, but right now I just want to feel real with him. 

“Okay, Emma. Are you okay with me warming you up before we shoot? I can do it right here, spread you out and make you come on my fingers so you're more sensitive while we film. You need to be warm, wet, and ready for me.” 

Harry kisses up the length on my pant leg, placing his lips right on top of the sem and stopping when he gets close to my center. “Yes, please make me come, Harry.” After I give him the okay, he doesn't waste a second before undoing the button on my pants and pulling them down my legs. He takes in the sight of my red lace thong and by the way the air creates a cool sensation on my panties, I know I’m wet for him; and he can see it. 

“I’m gonna ask you a few questions, but you have to promise me that you’ll answer them truthfully, okay?” 

Harry patiently awaits an answer, starting to slowly kiss up my thigh. He kisses both of my knees and continues to switch between both legs as he travels upwards until he reaches my midthigh and sits back up. “Yeah, I-I’ll answer them.”

“Let’s start with an easy one.” Harry drags his hands across my skin, nails scratching slightly. He finds my hips, tracing his thumb in the crease where my hip bends from sitting down. “Are you okay with me kissing you?” 

“Yes, I actually prefer it.” With the grip on my hip, he pulls me to the edge of the couch so I’m barely even sitting on it. He leans into me, pressing his chest against mine as he tucks himself into my neck. 

“Hmm,” His curls tickle my cheek, his sweet smell overpowers me, and his nose teases up my neck. “Is there anything that’s a hard no for you during sex?” I don’t want to do anything you’re not comfortable with.” 

The fact that he isn’t even asking me these questions puts me at ease. Though I haven’t had a lot, my costars never asked me what I was or wasn’t comfortable with. The directors never cared, only making sure every piece of dialogue and every cue on the script was hit. 

“You can do anything to me. If it’s you doing it, I know I’ll like it.” 

“You’re stroking my ego here, Em.” 

The tip of his nose grazes my jawline before it's replaced by his lips. He is still holding onto my hips and even though I love his hands there I wish he would touch me elsewhere. Just from him being this close to me, my cunt is slick and my clit is throbbing, waiting to be touched. 

“I’ve watched you before. I know how you fuck, so anything you want to do go right on ahead. I can take you, Harry.” 

“Oh, I have no doubts about that.” Placing a kiss on my cheek, he stands up and sits down next to me again. “Stand up.” Obeying, I stand up on shaking legs and turn to face him. Legs spread, arms stretched out along the back of the couch, and a smirk on his face, Harry sits there eyeing me up and down. “Strip for me. Let me see what’s mine for today.”

I cross my arms, grabbing the hem of my t-shirt and pulling it over my head. His eyes move to my chest, taking in the matching red lace bra. Harry takes one arm off the back of the couch to adjust himself in his pants as he continues to take me in. “You know, it’s not fair that I’m half naked and you’re still completely clothed.” 

Harry clears his throat and reaches out to grab my hips to turn me around. “This isn't about me.” His fingers find the band on my underwear and my breath hitches when he starts to slowly pull them down. In the wake of the fabric, he kisses where it once laid. “So sit down on my lap.” Pulling on my hips, he sits my naked bottom half on his fully clothed lap.  “Spread your legs.” I hook a leg over each one of his thighs and lean back onto his chest. “And let me make you come, so I can fuck you how I want later.” 

The rings on his fingers are cold on my blazing skin. Touching over the expanse of my stomach, my hips, my thighs and briefly the tops of my breasts he teases me with everything I want while simultaneously avoiding the place I need him most. 

My pussy is soaked with my arousal, dripping down and probably landing on his trousers, but at this moment I can’t find it in myself to care. 

“Do you want me to just rub your clit and get you off that way, or do you want me fingers? Stretch you out a little bit so I fit nice and snug in you?” 

I tilt my head to the side to find him already looking at me. Our lips are so close I fainting feel his skin, but we both don’t make the move to lean in; to fuel the fire we both feel growing. “Want your fingers. Please.”  

Harry looks down at my lips for a brief second before turning his head away from me. Out of the corner of my eye I see him looking at my body that’s spread out for him and the lust in his eyes is unmistakable. 

I take advantage of his head facing forward and tuck my face in the crook of his neck. He smells even better this close up. His smell is sweet, reminding me of walking into a bakery while also being smokey, like a fresh campfire on a fall evening. 

I repeat his actions from early, gliding my nose across his neck. When his fingers finally touch my cunt I whimper into his skin. I accidentally bite into his neck from the shock of finally feeling him. “Hey. You can’t mark me yet, Em. Wait until later and you can leave your marks anywhere you want.” 

The tips of his fingers trace over my entrance, gathering up all the wetness caused by him. He drags them up and uses my arousal to start slowly drawing circles on my clit. Instead of biting him I kiss down the side of his neck to try and quiet my cries of pleasure. 

“Maybe I didn’t even need to warm you up. You were soaked before I even touched you.” 

In my desire induced haze I accidentally say, “I always get so wet for you.” My cheeks heat up with embarrassment and if I could bury myself into his neck anymore I would. 

“Oh?” His fingers speed up, making me squirm in his lap. “Are you telling me you’ve watched my videos while rubbing this little clit of yours? You’ve came from watching me fuck someone else. Is that what you’re telling me?” 

From the bulge pressing into my ass, it’s obvious this is turning him on. I let my embarrassment slip away and just let myself be in the moment with him. “Yes, Harry. I’ve always wanted to fuck you.” 

“Well, it’s my lucky day isn't it, baby?” He doesn’t warn me before filling my pussy with his fingers. Long, thick, and ring clad, his fingers work against my g-spot. Combined with the teasing and his relentless strokes on my clit, my stomach begins to tingle and the muscles in my cunt squeeze around his fingers. 

“God, Harry. I’m so fucking close.” His movements are slow and skillful, not needing to go fast and hard to make me reach my end. 

“You’re a sensitive little thing, aren’t you?” His fingers stop fucking me, but he presses his fingertips up into my g-spot and massages the spot that makes me see stars. Somehow he’s lifted the hood of my clit so he’s directly on my nerves. “Can’t wait to get you underneath me, so I can fuck you into the sheets. Spread your pussy out and take you just like I fucking want.” 

I throw my head back on his shoulder, needing some fresh air. My lungs can hardly keep up with my shallow breaths and I’m so dizzy I feel like I could pass out. “Please, Harry. I need to cum.” 

“You don’t have to ask me. Just let go, honey. Make a mess of me.” 

And so I do. I feel myself clench around his fingers and my ears start to ring. The sound of his voice telling me how good I am filters through the noise, but for the most part I can’t focus on anything except the pure bliss running through my veins. Harry kisses my cheek, as he coaxes me through my orgasm. “Good girl, Em.” 

I fully relax into his chest as I come down from the high. He slips his fingers out from me and puts them up to my mouth. “I would love nothing more than to taste you right now, but I want to make sure the first time I do it’s caught on camera.” 

Harry drags my come across my bottom lip before slipping his fingers into my mouth. He lets me take my time cleaning his fingers up and he keeps eye contact with me the whole time. 

“What do we do now?” I ask after his fingers leave my mouth. 

“You are gonna go get a snack, get your hair and makeup done, and get dressed.” He pinches my bare hip which makes me yelp, but he just smiles at me. “But you gotta get off my lap so you can do that.” 

It’s crazy to see him go from this sexy dominant male to someone who is also playful. It makes my heart beat faster in my chest when he looks at me with a smile. 

I climb off him and go to grab a tissue from his desk to clean off the mess between my thighs. “Nope. None of that.” He snatches the tissue from my hand and puts it in his pocket. 

“I can’t clean myself up?” I cross my arms over my chest and for a second I forget I’m just in my bra, but I’m reminded when Harry’s eyes travel down to my tits. 

“No.” He walks over to my underwear that were haphazardly discarded and kneels before me. Tapping on the side of my ankle, he silently tells me to raise my foot so he can dress me. “While you are getting ready I want you to think about how wet you are. I want you to feel your come on your thighs and think about what we are gonna do. How I’m gonna fuck you. How I’m gonna make you come again.” He kisses my hip bone before standing up, dragging the fabric along with it. Harry makes sure it’s in place and snaps the band against my skin. “I’ll see you later, honey.” 

Throughout getting my hair and makeup done I shift unfavorably in my seat. My underwear is absolutely ruined from my orgasm, but now it's slick with my want for Harry. I can’t stop thinking about what we are about to do. 

In front of me lies my ‘script’. There isn’t much in it other than some lines I need to say. The premise of the whole video is a couple waking up tangled in the sheets together after being away from each other for a while. 

I think about what I plan on doing to him as the girls around me talk amongst themselves. Usually I would partake in these conversations and make friends with them, but right now my brain can only focus on one thing. 

They curl my hair, fluff it out and apply some light makeup to my face. I didn't want any foundation on because it will just get smudged anyway and I don’t want to look sloppy, so all I have on is some mascara and a light lip gloss. 

A silk black robe is wrapped around my body with my skin bare underneath and matching black slippers are on my feet. It was awkard taking my clothes off in front of the wardrobe person, especially considering the poor excuse of fabric that was my underwear. 

 The air is cold in the hallway as I walk towards the studio room and I know everyone that passes me can see my nipples through my robe. 

The room that was once filled with maybe five people now houses twelve. It’s hard to walk in the room with how many bodies there are and I barely see Harry through the crowd. I protectively shield my chest away from prying eyes and lower my head. 

Harry has changed from earlier, now wearing a black fitted t-shirt that shows off his muscles and a pair of grey sweatpants. I can tell by the bulge in his pants that he isn’t wearing any underwear and the sight instantly makes my mouth water. 

He finds my eyes across the room and at first he smirks at me, taking in my skimpy robe and the exposed skin on my thighs. He must see the apprehension in my eyes because he looks around the room and shakes his head. “Anyone who doesn’t absolutely need to be in here needs to get out.” 

Disapproving sighs are heard around the room, but they don’t hesitate to listen to him. Harry is known for being a sweet and caring guy but I’ve also heard that he isn’t afraid to put his foot down when he needs to. 

He waits until all unnecessary personnel exit the room, being left with the camera man and the sound lady. “Are you ready?” Harry kneels on the opposite side of the bed and puts his hands on his hips. 

“More than ready.” I pull the blanket back, ready to slip under the covers and Harry does the same. “Do you usually wear that to bed?” I say referring to his outfit. 

“I could ask you the same.” He grabs the sting that keeps my robe closed and tugs on it, not hard enough to open it, but just enough to pull me closer to him. 

“No. I usually sleep naked. Shouldn’t we make this as natural as possible?” I wink at him and pull his hands so the string gets loose. The silk moves against my skin as the front opens, but I only allow Harry to see me. 

His eyes drink me in, looking at every exposed piece of skin I have to offer. “Are you trying to be the director now? Trying to steal my job are you?” 

“Maybe.” I shrug. “I bet I could do a better job.” 

Harry reaches into my robe, pinches my hip and says, “Get that robe off and get under the covers.” The dimples that I’ve come to love poke out as I do as he says. 

Harry walks over to the two other people in the room and says something inaudible as I get myself comfortable. He must have told them to leave, because after they check the equipment they both turn around and leave. I’m used to people seeing me naked now and I’m not ashamed of having sex in front of people. In all actuality it turns me on knowing that people are watching me and my partner, but we are only focused on each other. 

“You didn’t have to kick them out. This isn’t my first rodeo.” I lay my head up against the headboard and watch as he starts to take his shirt off. No matter how many times I see his bare chest I still swoon every time. This is my first time seeing it in person and I can't wait to leave little love marks on him like he said I could earlier. 

“I know. I didn’t want them in here.” 

“Why?” 

“Just didn’t want them to be in here.” He bends down to take his sweats off, only leaving him in his underwear, before climbing into bed with me. 

“Won’t it be hard without them in here?” 

Harry turns towards me and leans on his elbow. “Those cameras over there are already filming and there are mics around the room to pick up your pretty noises that men are gonna drool over, so no, it won’t be.” He pulls the blanket down to expose my breasts. Leaning forward he takes my nipple in his mouth and lightly swirls his tongue around it. “Just lay down, act like you are asleep, and then wake your loving boyfriend up so he can fuck you senseless, okay?” 

“Whatever you say, director.” He chuckles at me and lays down. I press my naked body up against his half naked form and he groans. 

“Should have thought the whole naked thing through. I already need to be inside of you, so let’s hurry up.” I laugh into his chest and pretend like I’m peacefully sleeping on his chest for a while. 

Under the sheets, I discreetly sneak my hand from his tummy to the tops of his boxers. Being the professional he is, he doesn’t make any noise or give any indication that I’m close to touching him. 

I feel guilty because he got me worked up already and I haven't given him anything in return, so I pretend to wake up and lovingly look over at him. To portray the act of being his girlfriend, I caress his face, push back his hair, and take in the way he looks while he’s relaxing. 

I know he isn’t asleep, but he looks so cute and peaceful laying here like this with me. Throwing back the covers, I expose myself to the camera and run my hand along the top of his boxers. Harry stirs a little bit, trying to look like he’s waking up, but he keeps his eyes closed. 

“I’ve missed you, baby.” I whisper to him while dragging his underwear down his narrow hips. His cock is half hard, laying against his stomach. I take him into my hand, and his warm skin feels so nice against mine. I position myself between his legs while working my hand up and down his shaft. “Wake up, Harry. You’ve been gone for too long. I need you.” 

Once he’s fully hard, I put his tip in my mouth lightly sucking on it while my left hand reaches down to grab his balls and squeeze them. A little moan escapes him and he moves around more as he ‘wakes up.’ I take him further into my mouth, letting him tap the back of my throat before coming back up to lick at his tip. 

I hunch over him more, so I’m on my knees as I blow him. I continue to bob up and down, letting him stay in my throat for longer periods of time. His hands sneak into my hair and pushes it away from my face so he can watch me. “You just have to have my cock in your mouth first thing in the morning don’t ya, honey?” 

His dick pops out of my mouth and I replace it with my hand. I lay my head on his thigh, batting my eyelashes up at him while I jerk his dick in my hand. “I’ve just missed you, didn’t you miss me?” I pout my lip out at him slightly, playing into the needy and horny girlfriend role. Honestly, I don't have to even act that part. My pussy is a mess and I know the camera behind me is picking up on just how wet I am. 

“Of course I did.” He grabs the side of my head and hovers me over his wet dick. “Now, put my cock back in your mouth so I can show you just how much I missed you.” I don’t know why he asked me because he doesn’t wait for me to lower my mouth on him all the way before he’s thrusting into my mouth. 

Harry controls my head, fucking my throat while he lays under me. His moans are sinful, and make my cunt even more slick. I run my hands up and down his thigh, stopping over the tiger and scratching at it with my nails. “Fuck.” He moans at the pain and fucks my throat even harder. “Am I not fucking your mouth hard enough? Huh? You wanted me to go even harder?” 

I pinch his hip, telling him it’s okay to keep going and he does. Harry’s hips come off the bed while he pulls my head down over and over again. Tears leak from my eyes from the pressure, but I wouldn’t have it any other way. 

Throughout all my sexual experiences I don’t think any man has even been this vocal in bed with me. His voice is rough and raspy and his moans are deep and sultry. Every word he says drips off his tongue like honey. 

Harry suddenly pulls out of my mouth and forces my head to look up at him. “Get up here now. Need this little pussy in my tongue now, before I fuck you.” 

The thought of his mouth on me makes me squirm and I move fast at his words. I crawl over his body,  touching his chest and arms on my way up. “Can I get a kiss first, please?” 

“Don’t have to ask me, baby.” Harry grabs the back of my head and pulls me down to his warm lips. Kissing him feels exactly how I pictured. He’s soft but rough, fast but takes his time, and in control while making me feel like I hold the power. His tongue works against mine and I find myself loving the way he tastes. 

I pull back from his lips, knowing if I don’t stop we’ll  just kiss the entire time. If this was just for us, I would kiss him until my lips bruise and all the air evaporates from my lungs, but this isn’t just for us. Grabbing his cheeks, I open his mouth wide. “Stick your tongue out for me, baby. I need to make sure you’ll be wet enough to fuck my pussy with your tongue.” 

“Don’t think I’ll need it with how wet you get, but I’ll never pass up the opportunity.” Harry winks at me as I spit into his mouth. My mouth is sloppy from the kiss we shared and the way he was relentless fucking up into my mouth causing a string of I admire how it looks sitting on his tongue, ready to be used. 

Harry grabs my ass and pulls me until I’m straddling his head. He yanks my hips down, forcing me to fully sit on his face. His moan is unmistakable as he tastes me for the first time and I simultaneously moan at the feeling of his tongue on my clit. 

Grabbing onto his hair for stability and also rocking my hips against his tongue I utter, “Fuck, Harry.” My clit is so sensitive from my orgasm and I know it wouldn’t take me much to finish again. His tongue licks from my entrance to my clit where he sucks it into his mouth and shakes his head to stimulate it further. I sound like I just ran a marathon with how heavy I’m breathing, but I can’t even find the time to be embarrassed about it. 

It comes to a surprise to me when I feel his hand smack my ass once on each cheek, making my skin sting. Harry pulls away from my pussy just for a moment, “Can you not take me sucking on your little clit, baby? Does it feel too good?” He doesn’t wait for a response, just dives back into my cunt and sucks my clit into his mouth once again. As he shakes his head back and forth, his stubble on his cheeks rubs against the inside of my thigh creating a nice achy burn that I will feel tomorrow morning. 

When he smacks my ass again, I cry out and lean my head against the headboard. “Keep doing that, Harry. You’re gonna make me cum.”

“You like me smacking your ass that much, honey?” I nod my head and whimper. He does it again and I nearly come just from that. “You’re such a dirty little thing.” 

After a few more licks at my clit, I come all over his face and start shaking above him. My legs feel like jello and I don’t even know how I’m going to move from the position. “I could make you come on my face like that all fucking day, such a great thing to wake up to.” Harry realizes my weak legs and he runs his calloused hands over my hips and down my thighs. “You still want me to fuck you? Show you how much I’ve missed being deep in your little cunt?”  

“Yes. Please, I need you inside me.” Harry reaches up and wraps his hand around my throat. Before I can even comprehend the fact that his long fingers, that I came around earlier, are around my neck he pushes me off his chest and down to the bed beside him. 

Instinctively, my legs part for him and he gladly slides between them. His dick slides between my slick lips, tip lightly touching my still aching clit. “I can’t wait til I slip right into you.” Harry presses a light kiss to my lips, trailing them over to my cheek, across my jawline, and down my neck. As he goes further down, sucking light bruises into the skin of my breasts, he pinches my chin and turns my head until I’m watching us in the mirror. “But you gotta keep your eyes on me.” 

“But-” 

He climbs up my body, and whispers in my ear, “Listen to me, Em. Be a good girl and listen to me, okay?” 

“O-okay.” My body shivers, hearing him call me my name during sex is everything I didn’t think I needed, but now it’s all I want. Harry trails my body in kisses again and this time I keep my eyes on him in the mirror. He buries his face into my cleavage, licking, kissing, and sucking my skin, leaving his mark behind. His large hands take in both of my breasts when he starts giving my stomach the same attention. 

“Are you dripping yet for me? Do you think I could slip right in?” 

“I don’t know. I guess you could always find out.” I tease. Harry turns his head and looks at me in the mirror. He takes in the smirk on my face and shakes his head while biting his lip. 

“I love that mouth of yours,” Fingertips trace the outline of my lips, taunting me, “but I think I can find a different use for it.” Now fully hovering me, he grabs my hips and wraps my legs around his waist. “I want to hear those pretty little noises you make.” Sitting up on his knees, Harry holds my hip with one hand while lining his cock up to my entrance. “You think you can do that for me? Can you tell me how good I’m fucking you?” 

“Yes, Harry. Just please, fuck-” Before I finish my sentence, Harry is already pushing into me, stretching my pussy out just for him. We both moan out at the feeling, and my nails dig into his abs. Red angry marks are left over the ink of his butterfly tattoo and I wish I had the time to admire the marks I made. 

“Yeah, that’s good.” Harry finally sinks into me all the way and both of his hands are now gripping my hips with a fierce strength. “Mark me like that, baby. Mark me however you want.” 

When my nails dig into his biceps he hisses and starts fucking into my relentlessly. Harry thursts into me while also using his grip on me to fuck my cunt onto his cock. The sound of our skin slapping against each other and the pleasure we are giving each other fills the room. 

I find myself thankful that he kicked everyone out. Usually in these situations I find myself faking the moans, the pleasure, on my face, and the way my body is moving, but with him everything is natural. 

I look at us in the mirror, with Harry now hovering over me and whimpering my name over and over again in my ear. His back muscles bulge and claim my attention as he fucks into me, deep and slow. His pelvis stimulates my clit every time he pushes deeper in me and I reluctantly take my eyes off him to throw my head back in pleasure. 

“Takin’ me so good, Em.” He captures my lips in a kiss and our tongues clash. “I’m gonna need you again, but next time I want you all to myself.” Harry picks up in pace and I can barely hear him over the sound of my own moans. “Just for us, no one else.” 

“I-I think I like the sound of that.” I clench down around his dick that’s soaked in my arousal and I feel the ache in my  stomach, begging me for a release. 

“But you like getting fucked in front of people, don’t you? You like getting fucked like the slut that you are?” He’s so close to my ear that no one will be able to hear his words in the video, but I can and it’s making me drip past him and onto the bed sheets. 

If I answer him I know it would be loud, so all I do is nod. Harry slips out of me and I whimper at the empty feeling. It doesn’t last too long though, because Harry flips me around till I’m laying on my stomach and quickly fills me up again. 

“I wish I could fuck you in every position, but you feel too good squeezing me.” The tip of his dick massages directly into my g-spot with every thrust he gives me and I bite the pillow to subside my screams. “Nuh uh,” Harry wraps my hair around his hand and tugs my face to the side so I’m looking at the mirror.  “Need to see the pretty face as you come.” 

The grip on my hair is released and placed back on my hips to angle them upwards. I slip my hand between my legs and rub lazy circles into my clit. The small stimulation pushes me over the edge, and by the way Harry’s face scrunches up and the deep moans escaping him I know my own orgasm caused his. 

Breathlessly he falls forwards; forehead resting against the space between my shoulder blades. We stay like that for a while, catching our breaths and taking in each other. Harry kisses the skin of my back repeatedly as I sink into the sheets with him still inside me. 

“Well, Em. I think we made a good video.” 

[chukys-mouthguard]

broken memories - pt. 2

sequel to kinda tempting

3k words | loosely proof read

genre: fluff/angst

featuring: mat barzal x female reader x matt rempe

warnings: mentions of loss of pregnancy

previous chapter

It had been a month since you had broken the news to Matt about your baby. He was temporarily living with Jonathan Quick as he continued his offseason training to prepare for camp. The two of you kept in touch, often checking in on one another as you both navigated the stages of grieving.

You still talked on the phone at least twice a week, things remaining very cordial between you, which you appreciated. Never wanting to lose Matt entirely, hoping that you could remain friends despite everything.

Mat Barzal on the other hand, wasn’t being much of a friend as he’d yet to return any of your texts. Including your text you’d sent the night of the fight with Matt when he packed his things and left.

While you understood he was engaged and happy with someone else, he did promise that you could still reach out to him whenever you needed. Yet maybe that was simply a meaningless comment of comfort at the time, not something that held any true intent behind it.

You had finally started to feel like your normal self, getting fully back into work and preparing for the upcoming season. The organization pleasantly surprised you as they did not intend to fire you despite your relationship with Rempe, of course now that wouldn’t pose a problem. But you were happy that you could stay with the organization after you had become so sure this would be where you stayed for the foreseeable future should you and Matt have had your baby to raise.

Checking the time you had a little over an hour left in your work day, figuring you’d use the time to go get some footage of the recent renovations of the locker room to start making a few posts for the socials.

As you exited the elevator your phone was buzzing in your pocket, an image of Rempe brightly filling the screen. A smirk found its way across your lips at the sight of the photo. It was after his debut stadium series game, his eye black slightly smeared as he flashed a goofy smile at the camera. You’d never forget the excitement surrounding that day, but more importantly meeting Matthew.

“Hello Matthew Rempe, how can I help you?”

He chuckled at your sing-song tone as he greeted you. “I am actually getting in the car, just leaving training. But, I realized I need some stuff from the apartment, well your apartment. Can I swing by?”

Heading into the Rangers locker room you pulled your work phone from your pocket, snagging some photos and a few videos to ensure you had plenty of content to use in editing.

“Um, yeah sure. I’m finishing up here at MSG within the hour, then I’ll be heading home. I would say I can be there in like an hour or so? If that works for you?”

“Yeah, I’ll probably hit traffic on my way so that would be fine. I’ll see you soon!”

“Sounds good, see you in a bit.”

-

Dropping your bag on the island you headed down the hall to throw on some comfy clothes, which ended up being some shorts and a Rangers t-shirt that Matthew had left behind. You figured this wasn’t an item he was in need of so he wouldn’t mind you wearing it.

Before you could even get fully settled in from work there was a knock at your door.

“Matthew Rempe, what in the world is this?”

You eyed the boy as he carried in a box of food, setting it on the island as he wrapped you in a quick hug.

“Well, I knew you probably hadn’t eaten dinner yet. And it could be like old times, when we’d get our favorite takeout place for dinner.”

You smiled at the gesture, thinking back to how Matt’s diet surely took a turn throughout your pregnancy once the craving for Chinese food kicked in. Weekly Matt found himself bringing home whatever dish it was you craved, but he never once complained. Well, that is except for when you ended up with a better fortune in your cookie than he did.

“You really didn’t have to do this, I could’ve just made some leftovers or something.”

He shot you a playful smile as he held up the container of steamed dumplings.

“Really? You’d pass on dumplings for leftovers?”

You licked your lips as you stole the container from his hand, moving around to the other side of the island as you pulled out some plates and silverware. Passing some to Matt so he could serve up his food before the two of you found your familiar spots on the floor at your coffee table.

“So, how are you doing? Everything good?”

Nodding your head you reached for a napkin, wiping your mouth before you answered him.

“Yeah, starting to feel like my normal self again. It was a little rocky there for a bit. But, I’m starting to feel good. Able to make it through the workday without crying, which is a big plus. How about you?”

He also nodded, adjusting how he sat on the floor as he rested back on his hands.

“Yeah, same here. I mean, I still have my moments where I do the why me sort of spiel. But I would say I’ve gotten past a lot of the frustration and anger I felt for a while. And training has been freaking amazing, I’m so excited for camp. I’ve been working so hard, the boys are really impressed.”

The smile on his face as he told you about his offseason training schedule warmed your heart. A smile formed on your lips as you saw how excited he was, talking about some of the different workouts he’s pushed himself through. Matt was like a kid in a candy story as he talked about the upcoming season. He’d already come such a long way from the rookie you met at the stadium series.

“I’m really proud of you Matt, and I can tell you’ve been working hard. I can see it for sure!”

“Oh, so you were checking me out eh? The biceps are looking pretty good if I do say so myself.”

He shot you a wink as he flexed his bicep for you, making you roll your eyes playfully as you reached over to steal a bite of his sesame chicken.

“Seriously? Some things just never change I guess.”

He slightly chucked as you shrugged your shoulders. Stealing Matt’s food was always something you’d do after telling him you didn’t like his order. Which would always lead to a silly argument once you’d stolen almost half of his chicken from his plate. Leaving him with mostly rice and veggies, which were obviously not the reason for him ordering the dish. But he never complained, always happy as long as you were.

That was something you’d always appreciated about Matt. He was selfless, always willing to sacrifice anything for you, to put himself in difficult positions for you. But you always felt like you couldn’t give him the same, your heart being pulled in the opposite direction for a guy who clearly had moved on from you like it was nothing.

You hated that you’d hurt Matt, of course losing your baby wasn’t anything you’d ever done intentionally. But to know he still felt as though it was never him in your heart, that you were solely with him for your daughter and not because you liked him enough on his own, it hurt. Because maybe you were both wrong, maybe somehow things could have worked. Had your relationship not began the way it did, if you had simply walked away once you knew Mat had cheated. Maybe you two could've had a happy ending, rather than him moving out with you both left to pick up the pieces separately.

“Y/n!”

Snapping from your thoughts you looked up at Matt, his hand holding out two fortune cookies.

“You pick first, remember?”

It was always tradition for you to pick your cookie first, Matt’s rules. He said that your intuition was better than his, and most of the time your fortunes did suit each of you perfectly.

Taking the cookie on the right you playfully smiled, the two of you ripping open the packages as you each cracked open the cookies. Pulling out the small piece of paper, you read your fortune to yourself, biting your lip as you looked at Matt, seeing him already looking back at you in anticipation. He could see the tears welling in your eyes, immediately moving to your side to comfort you. His arms holding you tight as you cried, trying to pull yourself together as this wasn’t supposed to be a night for the two of you to be sad.

“What did it say?”

You took a deep breath as you sat up, wiping your tears as you read the message out loud.

“If you want the rainbow, you have to tolerate the rain.”

You softly chuckled, now realizing it seemed silly to cry over such a cliche message. But as you looked up at Matt he was fighting his own tears, sniffling as he tried to pull himself together.

“I think that was exactly what you needed to hear right now. Like I’ve always said, your intuition is a hell of a lot better than mine.”

He gave you a smile as he stood up, collecting the dishes and taking them into the sink as he began to clean them off. You then tossed the throw pillows back onto your couch before joining him. Taking a seat on the counter as you watched him dry the dishes before placing them back in the cabinet.

“Well what about you?”

He tossed the dish towel over his shoulder as he turned to look at you, crossing his arms as he leaned against the counter.

“What about me?”

“Your fortune!”

“Ohhh, let’s see, where did I put it?”

Typical Matt. He’d always put his fortune on the table, or in his pocket, the most random places thinking he’d lost it only to find it twenty minutes later.

“Here it is!”

Stuck to the bottom of his sock, that was a new one.

He playfully cleared his throat as he read from the tiny paper.

“A lifetime of happiness is in front of you.”

His eyes flashed up to meet yours, the words ringing in your ears and making your heart skip a beat. Though surely Matt didn’t see it that way, probably interpreting the fortune to be an overall meaning of the future, not literally right in front of him.

He simply shrugged as he placed the dish towel back onto the counter, “guess I’m gonna have to wait for happiness I guess. Unless, right in front of me.”

Looking down he stared at the sink, then flashed his eyes to you.

“This, washing dishes. It’s my future. Is this a sign that camp isn’t gonna go well for me?”

You rolled your eyes, practically falling off the counter at his god awful joke. Searching the apartment for your phone as he continued on, trying his best to make you laugh, which you always appreciated.

Looking at the screen you saw a multitude of text messages, all from none other than Mat. You’d immediately set your phone down, rejoining Matthew in the kitchen as you had no desire to talk to Barzal. It had been a month since you saw him, and you were not in the business of being friends only when it was convenient for him.

“Well, this has really been great, for the both of us I think. But, I gotta grab my stuff and head out. I’ve got an early training session tomorrow.”

Playfully you frowned at him as he headed to your previously shared bedroom, pulling a few things from the closet as he tossed them into a duffle bag he’d brought. Then he moved to the bathroom, and finally ended up in the living room grabbing a few books from the shelf.

“If you ever wanted to come over, not just when you need to grab some of your stuff, you can do that too you know?”

Matt softly smiled at you, appreciating the fact that you were open to still hanging out with him despite everything that happened. He felt awful for the way he left things, for accusing you of not necessarily having feelings for him or ever seeing yourself with him. It was pretty harsh when he thought back on it. And he wished things could’ve played out differently. But to even get an open invite from you to spend time together after the things he’d said, he felt that was a step in the right direction.

“I know that now, and I will definitely keep that in mind.”

He wrapped you in a hug before heading out the door, out of habit kissing your head before awkwardly apologizing. To which you’d told him you didn’t mind, it still felt so normal for him to do so. He promised to text you once he got home, but told you not to wait up as he might hit traffic on his drive and you need your rest for work in the morning. He truly did know you way too well.

Heading back into the living room you heard your phone buzzing on the coffee table. A photo of you and Mat Barzal filling the screen, one you’d apparently never changed after your breakup.

“Hello?”

“Hey, um, is everything okay?”

You scoffed at his somewhat annoyed tone as you took a seat on the couch, pulling a throw blanket over your legs as you spat back at him.

“Like you care? It’s been a month since I saw you and this is the first I’ve heard from you. What about the five other days I’ve tried reaching out? You didn’t care until now?”

He sighed on his end of the call, realizing he’d come off wrong, trying to apologize and start over as he explained himself.

“Well, you’re right. I should’ve responded sooner. But, Ava was in town, I couldn’t have her seeing me talking to you. But, I mean I texted you back now. You’re the one ignoring me now.”

He playfully chuckled, though you were not amused, Mat always thinking he could use charm to move past any wrongdoing.

“First of all, what good does texting me now do if I reached out weeks ago? Maybe I needed you then. And second of all, I wasn’t ignoring you. I was busy. Matt came over to grab some of his things and he brought dinner.”

Mat’s line of the phone went silent, eventually you’d heard him take a deep breath before he spoke.

“So, the guy packs up his things and walks out on you, but suddenly you’re hanging out and having dinner together? Are you two broken up or not?”

His tone was annoyed and angry, though you weren’t sure why considering he was happily engaged, which you didn’t think you needed to remind him of but clearly he’d forgotten.

“Last time I checked, you’re happy with Ava. So why do you care so much? I’m not allowed to have dinner with him? He and I were literally going to have a child, you think that everything between him and I just goes away overnight because I’m no longer pregnant?”

You found yourself laughing, the conversation seeming silly to you. There was no need for you to explain yourself to him, but part of you felt like you owed him something. After all, you did the same thing right back to him that he’d done to you.

“There was never anything between you two! Stop trying to pretend like there was. I get it okay, I fucked up. I should have never cheated on you. Do I think it gave you the right to do the same to me, no. But I could see how I pushed you into the arms of someone else. What I won’t let you do, is try to tell me that even for a second there was something between you and him. He got you pregnant after one night, and you two had to be together for your baby. That’s not love, that’s nothing close to what we had. So don’t you dare try to say it’s anything similar.”

You tried not to take his words personally, knowing they were coming from a place of hurt as he’d clearly not gotten over everything that happened. Rather just tried to mask it all by jumping into an engagement he clearly wasn’t satisfied with. But you weren’t going to just accept the things he said, letting him act as if there were never any feelings felt between you and Matthew.

“Mat, you have never once been in the same room as us. You’ve not been around Matt and I, you don’t know the feelings that are there. You don’t know how we feel towards one another, so you can’t tell me how I feel or how I don’t.”

“How you feel? So what, you still supposedly like this guy? After he packed his shit and walked out on you during one of the hardest moments of your life, you still have fucking feelings for someone like that? You’d want to be with the guy after all this?”

“Well I stayed with you during your shitty moments didn’t I?”

The comment was harsh, but you didn’t care. Mat always thought he could do no wrong, that the way he spoke was justified, and you were sick of him trying to make you feel bad, regardless if you’d hurt him or not.

“Why do you fucking care so much Mat? Must I remind you, you’re engaged! You chose her! So why could you possibly care so much if I still have feelings for Matt or would consider trying to do things the right way with him?”

The line went silent, and it felt as if minutes had passed before Mat finally confessed to you why’d he become so frustrated with you admitting you might truly have feelings for Rempe after all.

“Because I called off my engagement.”

[rainydayz-nstuff]

Adventure Time

You can probably tell what I’m mostly going to be posting about 🫤 Anyways, this is briefly based on my own AT fanfic that I have.

So here is Finn x Ice Kings Kid! Reader (How you met)

Let’s start off with how you appeared since you’re human. Gunter found you while messing around in Ice King’s ‘research lab’

It was actually Simon’s old lab.

You, with very out dated clothes, were stuck in an Ice Pod where you’ve been asleep for many, many, years.

Ice King heard Gunter’s ‘wenks’ so he found both Gunter and a sleeping human

At first he asked Gunter if he had made a statue, then he opened the pod and you… nearly fell on your face.

Ice King caught you and realized you were still knocked out, and he kindly brought you to his bed and laid you down. He spent the next few hours pacing around the room and staring at you while he ate trail mix

When you woke up, he was chomping away and he was completely zoned out. Like, his pupils were huge.

You stared at him before blinking slowly. Finally, Ice King glanced down at you while letting out a hum. You locked eyes before he shrieked and started choking on his trail mix.

“Oh! Geeze, I’m sorry!” You instantly apologized.

Ice King recovered while taking deep breaths. You were now sitting up and he could tell you were kind of young.

Then, an idea hit him.

“I’m going to adopt you!”

“… You gonna what?

Ice king is now officially your dad (here you go people with daddy issues)

HES ACTUALLY A GOOD DAD NGL

He teaches you how to play the drums, the keyboard, writing fan fiction, ruling the kingdom, how he’s gonna kid nap possible wives-

You just let him rant on and on because he seems happy to talk with you

He’ll also offer to kidnap anybody you may be interested in, he doesn’t judge.

MAKES A CROWN FOR YOU! It never melts, and it looks like a mini version of his!

Cried the first time you wore it in front of him

Okay, onto the rest-

He set up a coronation to officially welcome you to the kingdom as his child.

Sends out posters, invitations, notes tied to rocks, and some people actually showed up (over half are kidnapped princesses because why not?)

Finn and Jake showed up because they found out about this coronation and thought it was a trick to lure in princesses or he kidnapped someone and was going to make them stay in his kingdom forever.

Right as the official Ice crown was to be placed on your head, they kicked the doors open and stopped the ceremony.

Ice King, like usual, got mad and instantly flew in the air to use his powers.

He flew up too quickly and knocked himself out when he hit the ceiling.

Before you could rush over to your dad, Finn grabbed your hand and whisked you away like a bride

He gave you a reassuring smile to try and convince you that you were now safe

It didn’t make you safe

“Hey! Put me down!” You struggled to get out of his grasp. “Seriously, who are you?!”

Finn stopped running before he sat you down. Your shimmery light blue, bordering white, outfit matched the icy floor. “My names Finn, and that was Jake.”

His toothy smile and heroic pose made you stare at him blankly before you turned around. “I’m going back to see my dad.”

Finn’s face fell and he tried to grab your arm. “Hey, wait! Don’t go back there, it’s dangerous!” He tried to warn you, but your brushed him off.

“Don’t care. My dad just got knocked out, and I don’t think Gunter knows how to use bandages.”

After marching back inside, you found your dad mumbling to himself. And Gunter was stuck in bandages.

After getting the little guy out, you helped your dad and picked him up to bring him to his bed.

All the guests had left after the ambush so you changed out of the ceremony attire, and then put on normal clothes only with the crown on this time.

Finn, very interested in who you are, spied on you and noted how… familiar you seemed.

You had never met before, but he felt like you were something he was missing.

Then he realized you were human.

He outed himself when he gasped before he also fell to the ground and made a loud crash.

You stood tall over him while he stared up at you. Your eyes glared down at his nervous form.

“Get out of here.” Your voice laced with venom, but oddly enough… he blushed.

Finn stuttered a bit while you raised an eyebrow. He then quickly got up, grabbed your hand, kissed it, then ran away

You never told your dad what happened, but you still didn’t comprehend what just happened.

[octuscle]

Hey, so I ran into a bit of a problem with my stupid car. I drove a pretty old model since I didn't have the money to afford a new one (I'm still training to be a doctor). But it finally broke down and now I need to get it fixed. The guy at the auto repair place told me I could borrow one of their models for the next few days for an "extra cost". I need a car to get to work so I was happy to accept and they gave me one of their old lifted trucks. But now I'm starting to wonder what exactly this extra cost is and why I'm suddenly so interested in cars and auto repair. I have a few days left with this truck before I need to return it so any advice would help.

Well, the first extra cost is the scorn and ridicule you get in college. This truck is really embarrassing. A gas guzzling behemoth that you need three parking spaces for. And you literally have to climb into the car. For someone for whom the walk from the parking lot to the lecture hall is already sport, this is of course a horror. You park at the end of the parking lot so that nobody can see you. But on the second day, pictures of you getting out of your car go viral on campus. It was a shitty idea to take the car.

Sitting alone in the canteen, you watch the video of yourself again… Yeah, it looks really silly, you'd be making fun of the lanky guy in that huge car yourself. Even though you'll be rid of this beast in a few days, thank God, and when you can finally drive your Prius again, you should do something for your body. It's not by chance that they say "Mens sana in corpore sano"… You're looking for a gym where no one from your faculty is guaranteed to be studying. A little outside. For men only. No courses, only iron. I'm sure none of your Crossfit or Pilates friends go there. All you need is for someone to post pictures of you using dumbbells online. You join online and arrange a trial session for tonight. You don't know yet whether this is a good idea.

You roll into the parking lot. A parking lot full of pickup trucks. A few lifted trucks too. But yours stands out. Yours is really huge. Somehow you're proud of it. You jump out of the cab and grab your gym bag from the passenger footwell. You've never been here before. But somehow you feel at home. The guy at reception greets you with a fist bump. "Hey, welcome to the dudes-only gym! I'm Chuck. You gotta be Lance, right? Sweet wheels you're rockin' there.". You reply that your name is actually "Lanny", but Chuck just grins and says that a guy like you with a car like that is hardly called Lanny.

Chuck shows you the gym, the changing rooms, the showers and, after you have changed into your workout clothes, takes you to the training area. A bunch of musclemen are sweating on the weights, grunting. The air is thick with sweat and testosterone. Chuck scrutinizes you. "Well, you're no newbie to pumping iron, bro. But a few more pounds of mass would really beef you up. Let me walk you through some of my top moves." This is actually the first time you've ever pumped iron… But you don't contradict me. And follow Chuck's instructions. You train together with Chuck for the first hour. After that, he has to go back to reception. It's only 8:00 pm. The gym is just starting to fill up. The guys here are not men of big words. A nod of the head. That's usually the whole conversation. Apart from the grunt you let out when you finish the last repetition of a sentence with your last ounce of strength, you don't say a word for the next few hours.

Chuck comes onto the training area at 00:30. You are about to get your biceps on fire. "Big boy, it's time, I want to call it a day." He stares at the tent in your pants. The thing is, if you give it your all on the dumbbells, you'll get a hard-on. The two of you are alone on the training area. You finish your last set. You check the result with a double bicep pose in front of the mirror. You pull down your pants. And you and Chuck call it a day.

The next day you park your baby right in front of the university entrance. It's still early, but you want to be back at the gym early. The early bird catches the worm, as they say at home with mom and dad on the farm.

Dann all this medicine shit is terribly tiring and boring. You almost fall asleep in the first lecture. In the cafeteria, you try to talk to a sane person about chiseling iron or tuning engines. But all the idiots here can talk about is medicine and patients and stuff like that. By 4 p.m. you can't take it anymore. You need some normal people around you now. You swap your doctor's coat for a sleeveless checked flannel shirt. You meet one of your professors in the hallway. He asks you if you are one of the janitors. He has a problem with his car. Finally, a sensible task. You were hoping he had a problem with his engine. You would have liked to have had a look at it. He drives a BMW 540, a cool car. But unfortunately, he just changed the language in his on-board computer from English to German. A little something for you. He thanks you and slips you five dollars. Pathetic nerds!

Chuck greets you with a fist bump. Rituals are rituals. He thinks his ass is still sore from yesterday. You should take it easy on him today. You grin, inspect his tight ass and say it's a disgrace. But then he’d probably have a sore throat tomorrow. You laugh. And you head off to the training area. Too bad about Chuck. But there'll be another ass to fill today. There are lots of tight asses here. But first you work on your own. Leg day!

The next day, park your baby right outside the entrance. It's still early, but you want to be back at the gym early. The early bird catches the worm, as they say at home with mom and dad on the farm. In the workshop, they call you the truck doc. Because you can fix any problem. And because you once studied medicine. That was a long time ago. It was an idea you had in your youth. But you're not a guy who works with his head. You work with your calloused hands. And with your heart. And your heart beats for mighty engines and mighty wheels!

[chaoticloving]

my muse

harry styles x reader (masterlist)

summary: a lil blurb about the important moments leading up to Harry's wins, and little after <3

warnings: implied smut

As they’ve grown up and gotten use to being in the spotlight, Y/n and Harry have learned to enjoy teasing their relationship to the public. They still play dumb in interviews, even when the evidence is stacked against them, but as Y/n and Harry get older, they start to not care about the publicity of relationship.

One of those ways was going to events together. Ever since they've gotten invites to these types of things, their plus one has always been each other; whether it was the grammys or the oscars, they always were right there to support each other.

Tonight was no exception.

Harry was fidgeting with the rings on his figures as they were in the limo, waiting in the queue to get out and walk the carpet. He lifted up the ring on his left ring fingure to reveal a tattoo, one that matched the one on Y/n's same finger.

Y/n noticed Harry’s gazed on the ink and nudged him. “Don’t tell me that’s the one tattoo you regret.”

Harry’s smiled and shook his head. “Never would regret marrying you.” The inked band was delicately done, matching their actual wedding bands perfectly. Y/n took off one of her rings to reveal her matching one too, putting her hand next to Harry’s larger one.

“You’re going to do great tonight.” Y/n reassured. She squeezed his hand three times, a simple thing they did for each other just as a way to show their love. “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

They were blinded by the lights before they got the knock of the window from Harry’s security team. For shaded windows they did nothing to stop the bright flashes.

"Ready?" Y/n nodded and slid her ring back on. She followed Harry out of the limo door and put on a smile.

"Harry! Harry! Look this way!"

"Y/n! Harry! Are you two official?"

"Harry! Are you going to go home with Y/n?"

They smiled as they posed for the cameras. After nearly ten years of the "are-they-aren't-they", you'd think they would get over it.

"Hey." Y/n whispered into Harry's ear. "You're doing a costume change right?"

"Yup."

“Want me to give you a pre-celebration present?” Y/n whispered, her voice airy and breathy against her husbands ear.

Harry gulped, not sure if she’s implying what he thinks he is—he’s been caught out too many times with misinterpreting her comments. “What-ah, would that be?”

“Head.”

He gave a flashy grin for the camera.

“Thank you for the pictures but I think it’s time we should go.” Harry announces to the photographers and interviewers lined up. He causes a commotion, but when does he not? He doesn’t care as he grabs Y/n’s hand.

~~

“I think that’s a new record.” Y/n jokes as she fixes her lipstick. “Get off from the couch and fix your hair. You look like a mess.”

“That was so good.” Harry practically moaned, still in his post orgasm high. “That thing you did with your tongue was truly some really great work.”

Harry was spread out on the couch of a small yet lavish room for performers of the night. It had a vanity, bathroom and small kitchen area inside--Harry thought he could live here.

“Nothing fancy.” She mumbled, but Harry wasn't yet done.

“And your hand groping my thighs and balls.” Harry gasped. "So good."

“Styles!” A loud bang, a distinct one at that. “Put your clothes on! I don’t want another Munich situation!”

Harry’s dazed was cut short by tripping over his old outfit—didn’t even take it fully off before Y/n went down on him—and racing to the hanger with his outfit for the evening. He knew that angry pounding on the door, and he did not want Jeff to see him naked again.

Y/n was giggling as she fixed her hair and got some spray to keep her makeup in place. "Stop ya laughin'"

Y/n shook her head as she got up from the vanity chair and opened the door, peeking her head out. "Jeff."

"Y/n." Jeff sighed and stifled a laugh. "Is he getting dressed?"

"Yup."

"Alright, just be out in five. Make sure he looks good."

"Will do."

She shut the door and was met with Harry tucking in his shimmery tank and buttoning the pants. Y/n smiled as Harry looked up, causing him to grin.

"Wha?" Harry grinned, walking over to his love. "Want another round? Could pay ya back."

"As much as I would love that I think Jeff is ready to kill us." They giggled as they lightly kissed, foreheads resting on each other.

"I love you."

"I love you too."

~

"And the grammy, for Album of the year goes to..." Trevor Noah held his breath as he opened the envelope, smiling as he read out the card. "Harry Styles, Harry's House!"

Applause rang out as Harry cupped his face with his hands and then reached over to topple onto Y/n--who was frozen with shock--engulfing her in the tightest hug they've had since their wedding.

"I-I won." He voice was shaky, breathless despite sitting. "They called my name right?"

They broke apart, staring deep into each others eyes as Y/n nodded, eyes watering. "Yeah, go accept your award!”

She pushed Harry away, towards the stairs and the award. Lizzo was filming their hug and kept her camera focused on Y/n a bit longer before she flipped it round and filmed her face.

"Shit." Harry's voice rang out. "Thank you for this award. Since it's a big one, I want to explain this album a bit more."

Harry cleared his throat before he spoke. "I wrote this album for my person. Someone that has been by my side for everything in my life. All of the big things and all of the things that caused me to go to my lowest, you've been there, and I hope you could tell by this album."

Harry looked at y/n directly, something that was not missed by the room.

"I always keep you in my heart, especially when I can't be with you physically. Writing about you makes it seem like you're there right beside me. And I want you to know how much I love you when we are apart, when you can't reach me or my mum won't let me hang up the phone."

Harry sighed, not sure what to say next, except for one thing.

"For family." Harry lifted up the grammy and applause rang out. He was escorted off the to the side of stage, making sure to catch one last look at his muse. He didn't want to be apart from her for much longer. He wanted to go spend time with her, but of course, photos needed to be done.

He tried to reach for his phone in his pocket every now and then, wanting to call his mum and sister, tell them the big news even though he knew they would be home watching it on their telly—no doubt they were calling Y/n as he poses for some updates on the boy—but he left it with y/n who no doubt was taking a bunch of photos of herself while waiting.

Harry ment everything he said about his family, his with his wife and child, even the little critters that he wasn't too sure of at first; Harry just couldn't believe his life was going this perfect.

Once he was finally released from the photographers hold, Harry ran back to Y/n, making a couple wrong turns along the way, but eventually running in to the girl he was looking for in a small room outside of where they were filming the show.

"I won!" Harry's voice broke, nearly in tears again as Y/n's head whipped from who she was talking to--Adele, who quickly excused herself with a smile-- to embrace her love.

"I'm so proud of you!" They squeezed each other until both could hardly breath. "You deserved both of those grammys, love."

She started peckering a bunch of kisses all over his face, hands now squeezing his so squeezable face. "What do you want to do now? Go back to the show? After party? I got us invited to a couple so you can pick-"

"I kind of want to head home." Harry admitted. "Spend some time with you and the babe. That's all I want now."

Y/n smiled, giving him one last kiss on his little stumble. "Not even sex?"

Thats caused Harry to smile, kissing her cheek. "As enticing as that sounds I think it would be best to keep that for the morning." Harry sighed, starring into the mother of his child, his wife, his love, his one and only's eyes. "I love you. More than anything I could describe."

"You're going to make me cry." Harry's own eyes started to water, kissing the corner of her eye. He pulled her down the hall, to the back, where he organized a limo to be able to drop them off home whenever they pleased. Now seemed like a good time.

Harry came, saw, and conquered. Now, all he wanted to do was spend time at home with the ones who mattered.

[hydn-jpg]

redraw of this piece!! i mentioned in that post that i would redraw it at some point and ig that time is now! (i meant to post this before id2 came out but i got really busy so y'know lol better late than never)

i like to think i've improved! still can't draw chairs though haha

side by side comparison under the cut + rambly artist commentary(?):

i still have a long way to go in learning proper anatomy but i think the new pose looks a lot more natural and comfortable! also ~sexier~ perhaps

i tried to make the bg look closer to the actual cg they used in the book, i am arguably better at doing backgrounds now i think! i used to not put a lot of thought into it and just blocked out random shapes and called it a day (okay, i still do that now lol but i put more care into it now !! i try to make the shapes a bit more distinct and actually plan and sketch it out rather than draw some blobs and hope for the best ldkfkhsl). also more colour range(?) to give it a bit more depth!!)

i'd also like to add that i think i'm also better at figuring out compositions now, idk how it is for y'all but when i look at the original my eyes can't help but just fall to the centre, bc there's no focal point(?) or anything that's visually interesting for the eyes to land on. plus with the way it's structured, my eyes just naturally fall to center (+ bottom half bc the skin showing through the rips are bright in contrast to the black) >_> in contrast, in the redraw your eyes are automatically drawn to the face bc it's arguably the most interesting thing on the canvas and thus acts as the visual anchor of sorts (plus there is enough contrast with the background to make cas stand out instead of blend in)

even though i cringe looking at the og i can't help but to also feel endeared bc this was one of the first immortal desires fanart i ever did and also one the first of my posts to do really well! i never expected to get that much attention since i was only posting casually but it really warmed my heart reading all the lovely comments and motivated to draw more :D

it's also really fun seeing how much my art style and techniques have evolved! i don't think i use any of the same brushes i used to use for my old pieces anymore now haha. i also watched the timelapse for the old one and am honestly kind of in awe at how my different my drawing process used to be!!

i still have a lot to learn (esp in terms of anatomy, lighting, shading etc.) but i'm happy with where i am rn! the great thing about being a hobbyist is that there isn't really any pressure for me to improve quickly so i can just take my time haha (except maybe from imposter syndrome but that's neither here nor there)

i think i could've drawn his face and expression a bit better but i think this is a satisfying enough redraw for now!

btw, these are just my thoughts! i am not an art student so the things i said might not be technically correct but this is how i make sense of things in my brain

[deeply-unserious-fellow]

...Can you tell I really like Invader Zim and Hollow Knight?

Anyways uh- REFERENCES FOR ALL OF MY Z-O-M-B-I-E-S MONSTER HEADCANNONS WOOOOOOO FUCK YEAH!!!!!!!! These are all rlly self indulgent tbh, especially all the alien headcannons, but in mY DEFENSE! I can do whatever the fuck I want lmfao. Which means pointless patches of darker skin in very specific places on the zombies, references to raccoon Wyatt and alien lore that you have to do olympic level mental gymnastics to fit into the plot of the movies WOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!

The ref sheet for the Armistian's true form is kinda old(and I've actually posted it on here before lmao), but I haven't actually changed anything about their designs besides like, a couple minor alterations to the colors, and I genuinely think the art holds up to my current standards, so I decided to just reuse those refs instead of redrawing them entirely. Also for the record I have a LOT more headcannons about the aliens, the werewolves and some rewrites to zombie lore to make zombieism more akin to a chronic illness then a race thing, I just don't feel like putting them in these ref sheets. Because that would take a lot more effort then I am willing to put in rn. Feel free to send me asks abt them tho!!! I love infodumping abt my Z-O-M-B-I-E-S headcannons and rewrites :D

My least favorite parts of drawing refs and stuff are one; I have to draw the characters in their underwear half the time so I fully understand where different markings and shit are supposed to go, which makes me feel weeeeird, and two; I never have the energy to give the characters unique poses and shit cuz I have to draw and write so much shit that they all end up just fuckin. Staring blankly at the camera. It makes me uncomfyyyyyy-

Also the "very strong bones" bit on Addison & Bucky's refs is a TFB reference. Because I am insane.

Ignore the fact that I'm literally posting this in the middle of the night I had a really hard time finishing Bucky's ref okay-

@imjustavenuxwithaboomerang

[sixth-light]

ok ok slightly feral post as promised.

first, some context setting: I think it's really interesting to analyse texts in terms of both what the author was trying to do (and whether they succeeded) and what they ended up doing (intentionally or not) and I think their cultural/historical context is vital if you want to do this. I'm not interested in whether Robert Jordan or the Wheel of Time are, like, morally correct in their politics or whatever. I'm interested in what the art is trying to do.

and the thing about Jordan, see, is that he projected this image during his lifetime of a Genial Older Man (see: beard and pipe) but he...wasn't actually that old! He was 42 when EoTW was published. He died at 58. He was a Baby Boomer publishing books at a time when Baby Boomers were the hip young generation taking over from stodgy WWII veterans (Gen Z: It Will Happen To You Too).

What this means is that he was a child and adolescent during the Civil Rights movement, in a then-majority Black city in the Jim Crow South*. He would have gone to segregated schools. The tertiary institutions he attended had only started to desegregate a year or two before he attended each of them. I think his war trauma in Vietnam gets a lot of attention because he did talk about it and also because that's a narrative we understand for white men, but I think we...skim over the impact on white men of growing up at this time because? Civil Rights only happened to Black Americans I guess? but it's his context too. Similarly, he was an adolescent and young man at the time the (white) feminist movement was really kicking off in the US. he was in his mid-20s when banks were first legally *required* to allow women to open accounts and have credit cards in their own names. he went on to marry a woman a decade older than him, who had left her husband to raise her son as a single mother while continuing a professional career in the early 70s; these were issues that must have been incredibly relevant for her.

and what we see in his writing is attempts to grapple with gender and race that are self-evidently of mixed success, but I think have to be contextualised in light of this period of immense change he grew up in. Think about the predominance of women as merchants and bankers in WoT, in the context of how recent their rights to even control their own money were in the US. The...everything...he was trying to do with the Seanchan, making them extra-canonically Southern American-coded. The Whitecloaks as the KKK (among other things, of course).

As an example, I think there's also something probably unintentional but fascinating in the way he presents the pre-Breaking Aiel: bluntly, they are a distinct ethnic group in hereditary servitude (always thinking about how that ancestor of Rand's in the Rhuidean sequence had to get permission from Mierin Sedai to switch to someone else's service so he could marry his girlfriend, this is...uh...super cognate to issues enslaved Black people faced). They're associated with agriculture through the Song sequence. And they're pretty much the ideal of what slave-owning Southern American culture WANTED enslaved Black people to be: completely happy to serve. Then, as the post-breaking Aiel, they become feared as a source of violence, which resonates with the way that enslaved people were feared by their slavers.

I don't think for a second that the intention here was to depict the AoL as a Secret Slavery Dystopia, I think we're meant to take the Rhuidean flashback sections pretty much as they read on the page. But I also think putting Jordan in his historical and cultural context does pose the comparison. Similarly, I find it really interesting that he positions Seanchan as riven by constant revolts and uprisings (because it's a fascist slaver regime) but he never ever goes so far as to link enslaved people in Seanchan (damane and da'covale) to those revolts and uprisings, even though that is fundamentally the deep fear *for real and obvious reasons* of all slavery-based societies.

Or then there's the changes to the Two Rivers in the books - like, both then and now I think it's actually pretty radical to present an influx of Muslim-coded refugees of colour as a thing that enriches the Two Rivers both socially and economically. Various characters are wistful that it's changed, but they don't think it's bad. The text here is really clear that welcoming the Domani and Almoth Plain refugees is both morally right and beneficial. And this is in a book being written and published shortly after the first Gulf War.

There's so many more things like this where I just have no real idea what he was trying to do on purpose and what was accidental and what was fun for him in fiction but did not necessarily link at all to his real-world political beliefs. but gosh it's interesting to turn over and poke at.

[nerissalmao]

The Sexualization of Octolings

Hey y’all! My friend Ray suggested this lil thread essay post whatever it’s called, and I figured it would make perfect sense to do. I’ve never really made an in-depth Splatoon post before, but I’m not afraid to try. Today’s topic is.. the sexualization of Octolings.

We all know Octolings. We all think they’re cute and fun and cool, but they’re just so.. you know.. sexy. That’s not a bad thing, but it seems like it’s their whole entire species which is literally sexualized and shown in midriff-baring, skimpy outfits. I mean, come on guys. When Callie, the most wholesome Inkling around, briefly joins the Octo Party, she’s suddenly turned into the hottest dominatrix-looking rigid icon ever (a number of my friends started to crush on her after that).

It’s definitely not just Callie. We all know Marina, guys. I don’t even have to show you images to prove what she looks like, her and her love for crop tops. And Marina, as we all know, is an ex-member of the Octarian army, like all Octolings.. like Agent 8, whose Octo Expansion outfit was on the sexy side with a crop top and high-heeled little booties. And who later in Side Order wears a form-fitting bodysuit that shows off their midriff and causes several Splatoon players to meme the fact that their backside seems to be lookin’ large to death. Why is it that Marina and Eight, who used to be in the army, have sexualized attire even now? And when Callie linked up with them, she too was wearing a shirt that in certain poses accentuates her chest, and pants so loose-fitting you can see her actual underwear.

Have you seen the enemy Octoling’s outfits? Yes, they’ve got on armor, but it’s stylized as crop tops and short shorts. Not to mention that most of the enemy Octolings present as or resemble females, and their armor has the age-old shoddy trope of having extra panels for their breasts. They’ve got little booties too and look more like a dancing glam squad or sexualized warrior cosplay than actual warriors, but this is just a design choice and doesn’t affect the way they fight. A pretty weird design choice for a game like Splatoon if you ask me.

I find this very bizarre and random. Because it seems that the entire Octoling enemy brigade has some level of sexiness to them, especially the females. Every single one. But wait on a second. There’s two Octolings we haven’t covered yet. Shiver, an Octoling, has an outfit no more racier than Frye, her Inkling co-star’s. And Acht’s outfit may have a questionable thigh slit, but that’s nowhere near the typical belly-button-bearing short shorts of the Octarian army. That seems to make my theory seem dumb, huh?

Not in the slightest. See, Acht was never in the Octarian army’s fighting unit with the rest of the girlies (they were in the army and wore the same uniform, but as they were never on the front lines they seemed to be able to wear it differently, tilting it so their midriff wasn’t easily seen and wearing a bracelet instead of those tight gloves). As for Shiver, she was born into a clan of Octolings long separated from the other Octarians. Agent 8 on the other hand was once an Octarian warrior, as was Marina (she was later promoted though, but even so along with other enemy Octoling warriors was there during Octavio’s fight with Agent 3), and Callie was turned into one briefly, or something like one, despite her being an Inkling. It seems all the sexualized Octolings were once on the front lines strutting their stuff while fighting. So why is this?

Well, here’s my theory added onto another random semi-theory that I am here to share with you all. You see, in Japanese, the enemy Octolings, preferably the ones you fight, are called “Octo-Amazons”, and the Amazons are legendary female warriors. So perhaps DJ Octavio knew what he was doing with this, and it’s a sort of empowerment move that perhaps the masculine Octolings work on maintenance jobs or something given we never see them, whereas most feminine Octolings are fighters with their female-ness put on blatant display, waggling their little hips as they jump in to do battle with the Inklings. And this practice is so well-known among Octolings that those formerly in the army still tend to gravitate towards more revealing clothes even when they are free. Just a penny for your thoughts, Splatoon community.

[tonydaddingham]

the thing that is actually making me giddy with the possible angst is that i really think that we are about to see the most monumental shift in not only how we saw these characters but also how they previously saw each other.

the fact that we literally now have confirmation that a) they knew each other before the fall, b) aziraphale has had heart eyes since before time began, and c) crowley... possibly not so much, completely changes the context on not just the eden scene but also all the historic scenes that followed.

aziraphale knew crowley as an angel, and knew even then when crowley was meant to be 'perfect' that crowley was maybe a bit different, always asking questions and toeing the line. maybe out of a bit of bastardy himself, or out of begrudging awe of his ability but also his audacity, or just plain attraction, aziraphale immediate takes to him. but this has meant that aziraphale has placed crowley, perhaps unconsciously, upon a pedestal. and the pedestal that aziraphale puts crowley on from that moment may have wobbled throughout their history together, but it's stayed relatively intact.

this worries me, that aziraphale may not have quite let go of the fact that crowley just isn't that person any more, maybe never was to begin with, and continues in some measure to idolise him. my interpretation of this is that yes, crowley can be a bit of a dick (because, well, obviously) and aziraphale knows this, has done since the beginning, but aziraphale continues to hold crowley to an overall moral ideal that is so firmly ensconced in aziraphale's first perception of him as an angel that crowley will never be able to live up to it. not because he isn't a nice person, or because he can't live up to it, but maybe... he just simply doesn't want to.

but the issue is that throughout the ages (including the job minisode which ive had corrected for me, so Crowley Anger is now simply simmering), crowley's actions have only reinforced to aziraphale that despite being technically a demon, he has a huge heart and is not a horrible person. bit of a bastard, but not cruel. all of this just feeds and feeds into this image of crowley that aziraphale has built of him, and when crowley has his flashes of, in fact, not being honourable or kind, this threatens to upset the pedestal altogether.

these wobbly moments - when he thinks crowley is going to kill the children, when crowley snaps at him in rome, when crowley first proposes the arrangement, the prospect that he came up with the french revolt, the holy water request, the bandstand, "how can someone as clever as you be so stupid?"... moments where just for a second, in a small or huge measure, aziraphale's faith in crowley... flickers.

and of course aziraphale has been here before, right? he's had his faith, his devotion, his loyalty tested to the absolute limit of angelic endurance. so when his faith in heaven (never lost it in god) was obliterated, well - it had to cling to something. something that wouldnt mean that aziraphale has to lose the concept of faith altogether. so we're back to the old standby of idolatry, that aziraphale's heavenly faith is replaced by his faith in crowley, this angel that despite never originally giving aziraphale the time of day, aziraphale cannot see - for all of crowley's faults and bastardy and the frustration he poses - crowley as anything less than something to be worshipped.

this is exactly why i think that one of the main points of s2 is going to be a rift between them both. obviously i haven't talked about crowley's perspective of this and maybe i will in another post, but i do think that crowley is going to do something, a bad thing for the right reasons, but aziraphale isn't going to see it like that. that crowley will do something awful to protect aziraphale, but all aziraphale will be able to see is the betrayal or the cruelty or the despair, he can't see wood for the trees, and just lose that last vestige of faith he had altogether.

i feel like once all the disillusion and disenchantment has been swept away, and they're both laid bare at each other's feet... that they may not quite like what they find. from aziraphale's perspective, that whatever crowley does in s2 might be crossing aziraphale's line in the sand, and now aziraphale is starting to see crowley as someone that is truly grey, fluctuating between doing things that are Good, and things that are Good for Crowley.

and it's not as if aziraphale was blind to this before, but instead now... he kind of finally sees who crowley is? who he has been all along? the film has lifted from his eyes. realises that love and worship are not the same thing. what he loves, who he loves, doesn't equate to worshipping it/them, idolising them. there's a very big difference that echoes down to the very core tenet of who aziraphale is and his experiences with having and losing faith, but love having remained.

so stripped of the pedestal, crowley is now just simply... crowley. a person, not an angel, not a demon. and there is the distinct possibility that aziraphale might be completely blindsided by what he finds.

[rescue-ram]

Elaborating on my previous post in as unborked a way as possible....

In S1-S3, TrapHawk and FrankMarg are often contrasted as dueling couples very explicitly. So I'm going to take my statement "Hawkeye is more effeminate but Trapper is more feminine" and apply it to Frank and Margaret to clarify what I mean.

"Frank is more effeminate than Margaret, but Margaret is more feminine than Frank." Frank is unmanly, in a hypocritical, denying, self-deluding kind of way. He's a poser, and the humor comes from having his pose exposed as fraudulent and inauthentic. Hawkeye is also unmanly, but in a cool way, because he owns it and deliberately shirks what's expected of him "as a man" because he has no intrinsic respect for it. The humor comes from his rebellion and self-confident outrageousness. Margaret is more traditionally masculine in many ways than Frank, something which is played for (sexist) humor in its own right, and to contrast how unmanly Frank is by comparison and heighten his jokes. Trapper's masculinity plays a similar role- while he sometimes plays the sissy to back up Hawkeye, he more frequently acts as a straight man to heighten the contrast and make Hawkeye funnier.

So when I'm talking about feminity, I'm thinking of it not just as "unmanliness", but as "traditional feminine role". Margaret plays that to Frank- she's supporting him, hyping him up, she's his distaff counterpart. A lot of their humor is that old school Punch and Judy "nagging wife and henpecked husband" stuff, for sure, but there's no question that he's the main antagonist and she's backing him up. I think when people say she doesn't become her own character until he leaves, it's because she's so much his other half while they're together. Trapper is also playing a supporting role to Hawkeye- he's also the helpmeet, the supporter, the other half. In some ways I think he actually plays to the ideal of traditional feminity better because he doesn't subvert Hawkeye the way Margaret will do to Frank sometimes. I'm sure I'm forgetting something but I can think of like two times Trapper puts Hawkeye down for a joke, while Hawkeye does put Trapper down semi-frequently. Similarly, Trapper plays a caretaking role semi-frequently but I can only think of two times Hawkeye plays that role for Trapper. If under patriarchy to be a man is to be in charge, to be independent, to be your own person, who's the man in Trapper and Hawkeye's relationship? Not Trapper.

Contrasting Trapper with a few other characters just to further clarify my thinking on this... Klinger also has the Bugs Bunny effeminacy as rebellion humor going on, but he isn't a feminine person- the humor is the incongruity between his masculine bearing and his behavior. Radar plays a support role to Henry as well as to TrapHawk, but he is very much his own wily little person, he isn't "the other half" to anyone in particular, and although he's "unmanly" he's unmanly in the ways boys are, not women. He isn't a feminine person. A lot of Henry's humor comes from playing around with his masculinity, but it's never directly or pervasively subverted or questioned. I think Mulcahy kind of comes closest to "feminine man", but his rather soft and supportive nature is also contrasted with his outbursts of more conventional masculinity, even in S1-S3 when he's a more minor character.

I could point to other things that give Trapper a feminine vibe to me, even though he's not unmanly, things that are kind of female coded in our culture- his quietness, his neatness, his fondness for kids, his morality especially- but my thesis here is Hawkeye's effeminacy is an act of self-assertion, and Trapper's feminity is a role of support.