#sometimes you come across some friends while on the wing :3

[travellingdragon]

[morphids]

false pretenses, hange zoë

so im absolutely obsessed with this thank you for putting this idea in my head😰😵‍💫wish i could tag u anon </3

original request here [X]

pairing: college au - engineering student!hange x student!female reader - they/them pronouns for hange, afab anatomy for both

summary: the best way to get what you want is to do it yourself right?

warnings: listen this is real slutty ok, explicit sexual content 18+ minors dni - loser lesbian!hange (hange has that autistic nerd rizz), its always the quiet ones, r thinks she’s slick af, poc friendly- no physical descriptions of reader, kinda-bratty/switch!reader (r gets v subby) top-leaning!Hange (im a top i swear), strap, dirty talk, nicknames, munch activities, fingering, finger sucking, cunnilingus, praise, brief asphyxiation, i cant think of anymore

wc: 4.9k (not proofread)

an: excuse the shitty engineering attempts im not a stem girl!! hope y’all enjoy <3

—

You watched Hange from across the library, gazing over their features as they frowned. Brow creased as they solved equations that your professor had so kindly left everyone to complete after your seminar. Sometimes you’d catch their teeth nip at their bottom lip, in pensive thought.

Hange wasn't around many people, not that you saw anyway, usually kept to themselves or with the same two friends you'd seen them with. Their head often deep into a book or back hunching over a desk working some form of assignment, headphones placed over their hair.

Looking over their face, you studied Hange's strong jaw, the way their slender hand held up the weight of their head as the other scribbled down notes into their notebook. The sluttiest black tank top layered underneath an unbuttoned white dress shirt, draping over baggy brown straight-leg pants. Hair up with so many layers resting against their cheeks, framing their lovely face as multiple strands plumed out from within the hair tie. Their amber eyes lay under small, thin, glasses atop their nose. God, that nose. Perfect to sit on. Perfect to ride to holy heaven.

If it wasn’t clear, you'd had a bit of an eye on Hange for the last semester, they had transferred from a different university a while back. Upon seeing them for the first time, you wanted to speak to them. Their slightly introverted nature had made you keep your distance, though, but it was getting harder to fight the urge to go talk to them. I mean, how weird would that be? Hi, I know you don't know me but I've been obsessed with you since you transferred here? Yeah right.

No, you had to be more creative than that.

You needed a valid reason to speak to Hange so that you didn’t come across as the world’s biggest creep. Luckily for you, Hange was by far the smartest person on campus. Grades always incredibly well above average, scoring top marks in every assignment they’d submitted. So much so, that the professor had pretty much already taken them in under his wing. Due to their helpful nature and extensive knowledge in a fair range of fields, your professor was preparing Hange to be his TA after graduation. Oftentimes, passing Hange over to tutor students in his classes that lacked the grades that were expected of them at this stage in the course.

And even more luckily for you, you seemed to be really struggling with the new module. Or at least that’s what your alibi was. Who needed to know that your grades had actually been consistent passes? You were pretty strong at your theory, but you had only slightly slacked off in your classes during your professors teachings of mathematical methods and linear equations. It couldn’t hurt to get a bit of extra assistance to fill in the missing gaps.

Deciding to bite the bullet, you walked up to Hange, they barely noticed a presence beside, music blaring through the headphones, until your shoes came into their peripheral vision, spotting the black boots right beside the chair.

Their gaze followed up your bare legs, eyes slightly widened as they realised you were indeed about to induce a conversation with them and not just wandering past to get to an actual destination. They removed one cup of their headphones off their ear, holding it up with their fingers so they could listen to you. You noticed the multiple bands resting above their knuckles, bulky metallic rings varied with different patterns and weldings.

“Oh, um— hi?” Hange spoke, slightly confused, they had been deeply distracted into their equations, not anticipating someone coming to speak to them. Definitely not you, of all people.

“Hey, um— sorry to ruin your flow, but I was wondering if you could,” hesitance struck you, feeling your carefully planned script fall apart under Hange’s gaze, eyes still wide and nodding their head as a prompt for you to finish, removing the headphones fully to rest the band on the back of their neck. Why are they so hot, you thought, fumbling over yourself. “If you could tutor me with this module, you’re the smartest person in this place according to Mr. Fritz,” You joked, softening your words with a meek giggle. An attempt to make not make it seem like a big deal even though you could feel your heartbeat thump in your ears and throat.

“You can totally say no, of course,” you quickly added, after realising you didn’t actually offer them an out, not wanting to pressure Hange into having more on their plate than there already was.

Hange’s eyebrows pulled together, lips split as a wash of suspicious perplexity strained their features, only for a second before returning to normal. Back to their friendly warmth with an amiable smile stretched on their lips.

“Sure, I’d love to help,” Their eyes held yours, you to let out a faint breath of relief. “I’ve got a few things to do on campus for a while, but, I can meet you after?”

“That’d be great, thank you!” You offered to exchange phone numbers for ‘easier communication’ to plan around Hange’s schedule, before duly proposing that they come over to your dorm, as the library closed after five o’clock, and your roommates were gone for a week-long field trip.

“I’ll let you know when I’m on the way, then,” They smiled, an amused smirk etching itself on their lips before they could help it.

“That’s perfect, I appreciate it,” You beamed, “I’ll, um, leave you to your equations,” You stepped away, turning around to make your exit from the library. Hange didn’t miss the way your eyes fell onto their lips for just, perhaps, a little bit too long than was deemed socially conventional, or the way you seemed to grow flustered as they stimmed with their fingers. Hange’s gaze followed you as you walked on, trailing down to your exposed legs underneath a short skirt that hung over thick, sinuous thighs. Hange looked back down at their notebook, as they chuckled, shaking their head with endearment at your crafty deceit.

Hange certainly isn’t stupid, due to their proximity working with the professor, they were painfully aware of the more… problematic students in Mr. Fritz’ class. You were never one of them. In fact, he had even used some of your past assignments as example guidelines for the newer students. Needing help with the easiest part of the module? No way were they believing that.

—

A knock at your door, and you smoothened the fabric of your clothes, hoping to reduce any lingering creases or maybe even just to calm your nerves. You had tidied up, making your bedroom look more presentable and less like a cove of disordered chaos.

Opening the door, there stood Hange, handsome and ravishing in all their tall glory. A hand reached up to stabilise the one strap of their backpack that hung on their shoulder, the other strap dangling behind. You tried to stop, you really did, but you trailed over their figure, lured into their nonchalant stance that just exuded casual confidence as they looked back at you, an eyebrow cocked up.

Breaking contact, you welcomed them in, Hange dropped their backpack onto the floor to relieve the weight of all the heavy textbooks from their shoulders. Hand raising back up to remove the headphones from their neck, placing them atop their bag, hooked on the top handle.

You sat at your couch, leaving enough space for Hange to comfortably place themselves on. Trying to be discreet, you watched as they took off their dress shirt, hanging it on the arm of the couch, you presumed Hange was using the layer against the slightly cooler breeze outside— you couldn’t lie, you were kinda glad to see it off. Hange’s bicep was well sculpted against their black tank top as it melted into toned forearms. Tanned and strong. There was a brown cord bracelet dangling from their wrist as they rested it on their propped up knee. God, I’m no better than a man, you thought.

“So, what’d you need help with?” Hange pushed up their glasses with their ringed index finger, you wondered if that was something they often did subconsciously before beginning a task.

“Linear algebra and probability theory,”

“Hmm,” Hange nodded, a short tug at the corner of their lips, leaning their elbows on the top of their thighs, “Yeah, that stuff is pretty hard, but,”

“What did you score on the last exam?” Hange turned their head your way, amber eyes meeting yours, with a devious look.

You froze, shit. It felt like a trick question, surely Hange didn’t know the score you totalled? Surely, Hange didn’t know that you were just seven marks from a full score? It almost felt as if they were luring you into a trap; to see if you’d double down with the lie and continue with this facade or if you’d crack and admit defeat. Lose-lose either way, you’d end up embarrassed or having to make yourself look incredibly foolish.

Voice breaking in your throat, you held eye contact. Whereas Hange’s was steady and sharp, yours felt like you were just exposing yourself further the longer you remained silent.

“I-I don’t remember,” A neutral answer, you decided, totally not because you had been rendered nonverbal, clearing your throat and seeing the way Hange’s lips stretched fully into a knowing smirk.

“Hmm, you don’t remember,” They were definitely mocking you now, voice low, humming and melodic as you felt the thunder in your chest beat. You looked down at your thighs, fingers fiddling with a loose hem on your skirt.

“Getting the impression I wasn’t invited over for some homework,” They chuckled, leaning back against the support of the couch, arm stretching over the top.

One sentence and it was out in the open, the illusion you thought was so deceiving completely shattered as your true intentions came to light. Yup, embarrassing, just as you thought.

“So, why don’t you tell me the actual reason you invited me over,” If the last sentence was a stab to your confidence, this one was an extra twist in the wound. Hange was smirking at you, the mirthful look in their eyes showing you that they were relishing in your embarrassment and flustered face.

You swallowed a deep breath, feeling your skin ignite both with anticipation and nerves so lethal you almost wanted to bury yourself underneath the seat, never to be seen again.

“I, uh—“ you mumbled, the script had truly crumbled, you had no plan B apart from just spewing out the truth. You’d die before you had to do that.

“You seem a bit flustered,” Hange hummed, leaning on the back of the couch, as their thighs came to spread, “Why’s that, hm?”

The unlevelled confidence that radiated from them just seemed to further your own unease. It wasn’t often you felt that way, usually being the one to initiate flirtations with others. Yet, everything about Hange just seemed to drag you into a state of bashfulness, totally out of character as you failed to make eye contact.

“Will you look at me, love?”

You ceded, eyes meeting, as you let out a sigh. Hange placed a testing hand upon your bare knee, tentative runs of their thumb over the skin. Soft, Hange thought. The feeling eliciting shivers down your spine, warm waves down to your core, reducing you to a state of feeling unreasonably touch-starved. Hange gazed down your thighs, deliciously covered by the fabric of your skirt, moistening the edge of their upper lip with the tip of their tongue, before flickering their eyes back to you.

“What is it you really want?”

Fuck. A short gasp escaped your throat as their hand trailed up, fingers reaching underneath the hem of the short skirt. Hange was toying with you, no doubt about it.

“I… I wanted to speak to you,”

Humming, their hand moved further, “Why?”

“I found you…” you paused when their fingertips skimmed over your panties, your thighs twitched. “C-captivating, needed a reason to speak to you,”

Hange chuckled, as they leaned forward to reach the bottom of your ear, your breath hitching as their lips ghosted over the skin.

“You could’ve just asked, pretty,” Hange’s voice whispered against your ear, as you closed your eyes. You were so down bad.

“Think I haven’t noticed you, huh?” One light kiss at your skin, “Think I haven’t seen the way you stare at me?” Another kiss, ever so gentle that you almost melted into them, biting back a needy groan. Hange’s hand squeezed at your thigh, fingers towards your centre, just barely grazing over the fabric.

“I mean—god, darling, if you wanted me to fuck you that badly all you needed to do was ask nicely,” Hange’s teeth nipped at your lobe, drawing out the skin with it.

“So, ask me nicely,”

Another squeeze at your inner thigh, and no longer could you withhold the groan that you’d been holding back. You were fighting so many demons right now, hesitant to verbalise your inner desires. Hange remained near your ear, licking at the soft skin. Fuck it.

“I want you so fucking bad,” Your voice came out so much whinier than you expected, used to hearing that tone from others, but never from yourself.

“Aren’t you gonna say please?” They chuckled, dragging it out, teasing. Hange eyed the pout at your lips, the slight frown in your brows—could tell you were used to getting what you wanted easily, to not submitting. They planned to fix that.

“Fucks sake—please, Hange,” You pressed your thighs together, trapping Hange’s hand as they gripped you, as a prompt for them to do something, anything.

“Better.”

With their other hand, the one not currently trapped in between your legs, Hange grabbed at your hip. Kneading over your hip bone, where the dainty zip of your skirt dangled. The sensation caused your thighs to loosen autonomously, as Hange opportunely released their hand an inch. Slipping underneath the hem of your damp panties, fingers teasing at your slit, collecting your slick.

“You this messy just for me?” Their sinful, warm words made you shiver, goosebumps down your arms as they hit your ear. You wriggled, skirt rolled up to your hips, exposing your panties. Messy, indeed. You were growing impatient as you attempted to roll your hips into their hand, craving contact. Hange’s fingers recoiled, pushing from your slit pulling the fabric with as they tutted. Tightening their other hand on your hip once more, stilling your movements.

“C’mon, surely you’ve figured out how this works by now,” Hange’s words sounded so sweet, if it wasn’t for the absolute torture lurking underneath. Eager to tease and play with you for as long as it would take for you to actually listen and cede. With a brattish groan and a sigh, you nodded.

“Words, darling, use them.”

“Y-yes, shit—all for you, Hange.” Voice breathy, avidly impatient. Your core leaked more slick when it clenched, totally ruining your panties as it clung to your folds. The sight absolutely delectable. “I need you so bad—can’t take it,”

There it was. Finally.

“Was that so hard?” Hange hummed, a satisfied smirk creeping over their lips as they teased a finger down your slit, only slightly breaking through your entrance. Pressing your lips against theirs as you whimpered into the kiss, biting at Hange’s plump bottom lip.

“Now then, be a good girl and stay put.”

Hange pressed their finger fully into you, soon adding another two once they saw how keenly you were taking them already, walls wet and ready. Your head fell into Hange’s neck, meek moans spilling from your mouth as their slender fingers hit the back of your squishy walls.

Without removing themselves from your warm heat, Hange cased a hand at your ass, pulling you on top of their lap. Using their clothed thigh to rut their fingers up even further, other hand forcing your hips into gyration against them. The friction from their jeans hit against your sensitive clit and with their fingers inside you, you were a hot mess already. Needy and desperate from their heartless teasing.

“Ah—that’s…fucking good,” You hissed, as Hange lapped their tongue down your neck, before sucking, branding you with many dark marks leading down to your chest.

Catching the hem of your shirt, you threw your arms up to discard it, revealing your breasts to the room’s cool air, heaving up and down with heavy breaths. Hange almost moaned at the sight of you, shirtless with a short skirt pooled around your hips, draping over their knees. Of course you weren’t wearing a bra, they thought. As Hange thrust their fingers into you, their mouth wrapped over your nipples, flicking over them with their tongue. Nipping lightly over the peaks. You arched your back into them, feeling yourself grow closer, the tension in your abdomen building as you bit your lip.

Your hips lost their rhythm, aimlessly chasing the feeling of Hange’s fingers deep within you. Languid gasps and breathless moans escaping your lips. So, so close to your peak until the sensation was suddenly stripped away, leaving you totally empty. Hange removing their fingers, you could hear your own slick cry as they did, your walls tensing.

“Wha-“ You were a bit dazed, a truthfully a little annoyed, you had been so close.

“You’ve not earned it yet,” Hange laughed, clearly relishing in your frustration. They liked this, liked making you destitute, left wanting. Hange had every intention of fixing that sugared insolence they could see within you. Had every intention of tearing it inside out.

Hange reached down to their leather belt, maintaining eye contact as they unclasped the metal peg, lifting you up off their knees slightly to pull their jeans down, before removing their tank top. Their chest rose up and down, bound beneath a black binder. You could see their own centre soaking through their underwear. You ogled their figure, groaning as your sinful thoughts worsened. The kind of imagination that would surely commit you to purgatory indefinitely.

Hange pecked your charming pout away, before bringing their soaked fingers up in front of your mouth. Spreading your lips open with their thumb, shoving it inside so you could taste your own slick on it. Their other fingers followed suit.

“Clean up your mess,”

Hange watched you, your lips bruised and plump as they split to allow entrance for their index and middle finger. Sucking your juices off them as you moaned, gagging as they hit the back of your throat. Brows pinched and eyes brimmed with tears from the hot burn. Hange’s thumb pressed against your bottom teeth, pulling your jaw open, a line of drool slipping out from the corner of your open mouth. Hange would kill just about anyone for you, they thought. Irreversibly addicted to you, your needy eyes and the way you fell to follow their orders.

“So beautiful,”

Hange hung over you. Looking into your glassy eyes, with the hold against your jaw, pinky finger at your chin, they held your mouth open, spitting on your tongue.

“Swallow.”

You did. Quite happily as you groaned, muffled as your mouth was stuffed. Feeling yourself grind against Hange’s bare thigh, your core clenching around nothing as you yearned for the feeling of their fingers back inside you. Your inner thighs completely soaked, spreading it all over Hange’s bare legs.

“Such a good girl—so obedient for me,” They hummed, relieving their attack on your mouth, taking their fingers out and grasping the back of your neck, “Wonder if anyone else has ever slut you out like this, hm?”

You shut your eyes, leaning into their touch as you whined out a passive ‘No’, shaking your head to Hange’s question, not fully trusting the strength of your own voice. Fuck, you were totally gone, lost in salacity and paralysed by your own thirst. Almost brain-dead as your desire thumped in your ears, and throbbed at your core. About to explode from your own ardour as it’d eagerly been building up. Hange was divinely addictive, a substance you should never have risked trying. You could never possibly go back now, too ruined to ever possibly go to anyone else. Totally and utterly hooked on Hange.

“Aw, look how docile you are now, pretty.”

Hange kissed at your neck, coming back up to meet your lips again as you mewled against them.

“H-Hange— please, need more,” You squirmed against their lap, “Can’t take it, need to cum so badly,” You were finally begging, hesitation leaving you to fend for yourself as Hange had you right where they wanted.

“Yeah? How do you want it, baby?”

In between strained breaths, you pointed to your drawers. Strategically placed next to the couch, as Hange reached over. Chuckling once they saw your strap in its resting place.

“This what you want?”

Nodding, you rutted against Hange’s thigh, forcing some friction to rub against your clit.

“Please, fuck,” You sobbed, visions of Hange stuffing you with your strap forcing you to squeeze your thighs against Hange’s lap.

“Since you asked so nicely,”

Hange gently nudged you off their lap, to allow them to slide the harness over their thighs. You sat beside them, legs folded underneath yourself. Hand placed delicately on the side of their head, pressing sweet kisses down the skin of their neck as they adjusted the harness to fit around the circumference of their thighs. Hange shivered under your lips, eyes shutting as they indulged in the sensation for a moment, cursing as you began to lick under their lobe. You were delightful.

Hange’s hand danced along your thigh, fingers streaming past your slit as they groaned at how unbelievably wet you were.

“You’re fucking sublime,” They groaned, dragging you over their lap, hands ripping both the skirt and your ruined panties off your legs. Hange laid their back on the couch, folding your bare thighs over their jaw. You bit your lip in keen anticipation, it was almost as if you had manifested this.

“Fuck—Hange, I’ve dreamt about this for so fucking long,” Your legs twitched above Hange’s face, as a radiant smirk shone on their lips.

“Yeah? Thought about this?” Their hands clung around the plush skin of your ass, fingers squeezing tightly. They pulled you on to a steady stream along their face, teased a lick up your folds before your slit was pressed down against their flat tongue, lapping up your slick as their nose rubbed over your clit.

“F-fuck, so much—was just like this,” You gasped as you rode Hange’s face, watching dumbly as their face contorted with gluttonous solace. Eyebrows creasing as they focused on eating you out. You crumbled, finally feeling some release after being teased for what felt like many unbearable hours. Truly, it was better than you could have imagined, Hange’s fly-aways catching on their cheeks and the sides of their face as they grew dampened, your slick slapping their cheeks and fogging up their glasses from splatters and wet heat.

Resting your hand on their knees for stability, your fingers acted on their own as you came to reach underneath the strap that was dangled in the air, waiting to be used. Your fingers came to meet Hange’s folds, sliding easily past their sensitive labia, nearly as wet as your own, aching. Having been unbearably turned on since they saw your body’s visceral responses to them.

“That’s—so fucking hot, shit,” You whimpered, lost in the feeling of Hange’s insistent tongue slowly flicking deep against you and the way their centre seemed to just suck your fingers right in. Hange let out a muffled, guttural grunt into you, the vibrations making you clamp your thighs tight against their head. You almost felt apologetic, if it wasn’t for Hange, who seemed to get riled up by the very prospect of being choked out by your luscious thighs. Oxygen supply decreasing as amber eyes rolled into the back of their head, toned arms pulling you closer against them. Leaving behind marks on your skin that outlined where their fingers had been digging in.

Whilst simultaneously, you were plunging your fingers knuckles deep into their entrance. Your body leaning back as you bucked your wrist against them, fingers curling inwards against their walls. Hange’s eyes were stuck on you, watching as your body rocked against their mouth. Head hung back and breasts perked up as beads of sweat trickled down, illuminating your skin, the fine hairs around your stomach standing upright. Looking properly, they spotted a few moles scattered on your stomach, your lips were swollen as they bit out mutters of curses under your breath. Still trying to return the favour even despite feeling ruined. How divine.

The sight alone brought Hange to their knees, hazy pleasure erupting through them as they felt their body tremble. Truthfully, Hange seldom let people touch them, opting to typically give rather than receive, yet they felt like giving you permission to do whatever you wished with their body. They were so hypersensitive, extra responsive under your ambrosial touch. Debauched gasps melted into your core, still lapping at your slick as they rode through their own peak. Shuddering, as they seized their thighs against your wrist.

“Did you cu-“ Your excited, breathy voice was cut off by Hange grabbing your wrist, ripping your fingers out of themselves from overstimulation, their centre tensing with arousal dripping down their folds. Hange nodded as an affirmative, you could tell they were slightly stunned. Hange held your wrist against your back, elbow folding over as they lifted themselves up. Disconnecting your slit from their mouth, and moving you around as you returned to facing each other, your legs resting over their lap once more.

Hange’s spare hand caressed your jaw, uniting your lips together as they melded over yours. Sloppy, open-mouthed kisses, slipping their tongue into your mouth. You whined as they angled the tip of the strap over your folds, your slick lubricating the plastic. Hange was frenzied, desperately needing to see you stuffed with the silicone length. Elated from their own high, their words grew more depraved.

“Need to fuck this pussy,” They rasped, voice at the lowest frequency you’d heard from them, “Prettiest fucking pussy I’ve ever seen,”

Your lips parted as Hange slipped the tip inside, stretching your walls out as you gripped onto their shoulders. Hissing as you adjusted to Hange burying themselves into your tender flesh. Sinking yourself down on the strap as your hips undulated against them, pressure building up again within your abdomen as Hange fucked the strap deep into you. Tip massaging over your inner walls, repeatedly hitting that same spot that made your breath catch in your throat and your vision go white.

“Fuc—keep going, pleas—please,” Mewling, you shut your eyes, eyebrows furrowing as your nails came to scratch at Hange’s back. Your words coming out in broken sobs, tears spilling down your cheeks as you were split apart on your own strap.

“So full—Hange—“

Hange sucked against your neck, then licking over the sore spots.

“Taking me so well,” Hange praised, voice sweetly laden with saccharine honey, “Sat so pretty on my cock,”

“ngh—Shit-I-I’m gonna come,” You were shaking, thighs trembling and abdomen twitching. Finally about to release after being so cruelly edged twice. The expression on your way was picture-worthy, fucked out and wanton.

“That’s it,” Hange kept rutting up into you, muttering praises, “Come all over me, baby,” A nibble at your earlobe and you were done for. Your climax reached you, tensing up your spine, mouth agape as you shuddered, face contorted.

“You look so pretty when you come,”

Your core tightened as you spilled out your release; the force pushing the strap out from inside you, squirting all over Hange’s lap. The hardest you’ve ever come in your life.

Hange didn’t relent just yet, making sure to fuck you through your peak so you could ride every second of it. When you finally stilled, your head fell onto Hange’s neck, murmuring softly against their clavicle. Sighing, you lifted your head up, greeting Hange’s half-lidded eyes with your own. A beat and Hange reconnected your lips together, gently kissing you as you came down. Mind still fuzzy and reeling. Their hands caressed your hips, thumbs running down your skin.

“You’re beautiful,” Hange whispered, pressing a tender peck down against your swollen lips, “Wish you would’ve talked to me earlier,”

You laughed, breathy and uneven, as bashfulness struck again. Once the cloud of lust had settled, you were left with nerves, that doe look back in your eyes as you weren’t quite sure what to do now. What if Hange never wants to see you again? After all of this, you don’t think you could handle being emotionally ghosted. It was unlike you entirely, but the interest in Hange remained, simmering as you relished in their tight hold— a hold that almost promised you it wasn’t going to leave. You dared to dream.

“What are you thinking about?” Hange muttered, resting their forehead against yours, eyes closing.

“Um…” You hummed, hesitant, “This, I guess, I’m a little… nervous,”

“I guess I am, too,” They chuckled, pressing their head closer, hands still setting your skin aflame, “But, i-if you’d like to, I wanna take you out,” Pausing, “On a real date, that is, not under false tutoring pretences,”

You pulled your head back, trying to suppress the smile that threatened to stretch, an attempt at masking the hopeful beam in your eyes.

“I’d love that.”

—

listen u guys 😭 someone pls sedate me or give me a lobotomy cos what am i meant to do when i PINE over 2d characters

let me know if u guys enjoyed <3 i love to read ur comments and inputs

[signed-loni]

If you still take requests—

Could you write about the Glamrocks reacting to y/n wearing inspired makeup of them?

Almost how Cassie matched eyeshadow/make up with Roxy, since Roxy is her favorite?

I LOVE THISSS

Yall, i have been SO inactive on here, and for that IM SOSOSOSOSO SORRYYY 😭😭😭🙏

but alas, this is sososo cute so i just had to do it. im still working on other requests! So do not fret<3

warnings: None, its all cuteness

not proofread, sorry

reader is gonna be GN

FREDDY FAZBEAR

He thinks its so cute!!

he’ll help you do it when he has the time-

he likes watching you do it, while at the same time helping you remember what his “makeup” looks like

sometimes he’ll let you sit on his lap and just watch you do it, seriously, this guy just LOVES to stare at you

”Fred?” You called out, knocking on the star of Fazbear Entertainments door. “I wanna show you something!” You said, as the door was gently opened, only to reveal the very tall Freddy Fazbear. “Ah, y/n! How nice to see you! And your makeup! How very lovely it is. Looks just as good on you as it does me!”

you giggled at his remark. “Thank you! Took me forever to do. Hopefully (managers name) wont make me take it off. I think the kids would really like it!” You said. “I agree with you, it looks fantastic!”

Montgomery Gator

UGH THIS MANNN

Once you come into work with monty inspired makeup, he’ll tell you to come like that to work everyday

cocky little bastard

”Oh, okay, rockin’ my look huh? Looks good on ya babe”

Bro will NOT shut up about it

As you walked into the mega pizzaplex, faced covered in green eyeshadow and yellow and purple stared eyeliner, mentally preparing yourself for what monty was gonna say, you clocked in and got ready for your daily morning tasks.

As you were checking that everything was in its place, you felt someone was behind you. And you knew exactly who that someone is. “Monty, y’know you cant scare me. I’ve become immune to it” you say, turning around to face him, seeing a smirk spread across his smug face

“Wow, nice look ya got on” monty said, signaling to your eye makeup. “Inspired by yours truly, I assume?” He says, eyeing your, well, eyes. “Wow monty, you just assume things all the time dont ya?” You say, tone laced with saracasm as you turn around back to what you were doing. “Im right though, aint i?” Monty said, smugly. You giggle a bit “that you are, my redneck friend.”

Roxanne Wolf

she absolutely adores it

”Ya look good, sweetheart”

her tail wags viciously when she sees you wearing makeup similar to cassies, but with a little more pazazz (or however you spell that)

Thinks its cute that you wear lipgloss with a purple tint to it! Brings the look to life

You were hanging out at roxy racers, cleaning everything up and goving the go karts gas, when you hear roxy come up behind you. “Hey baby, loved the look you had going on today” she said while hugging you from behind “Thanks roxy! Im glad you liked it. A bunch of the kids and even some adukts complimented me on it. I was almost late for work trying to get it done.” you said laughing.

“The effort payed of though” Roxy said, admiring your perfect winged eyeliner and eyeshadow, along with the eyeliner on your cheeks to mock the stripes she had. “Looks hot, especially on you” roxy said, which made you laugh. “Alright rox, lets get you to parts and service” you said shaking your head and chuckling.

Glamrock Chica

Literally IN LOVEEE

she sees your makeup and freaks out

”OMG OMG OMG ROXY! DO YOU SEE Y/NS MAKEUP??!! THOSE ARE MY MARKS!! AND YOU SEE THE GREEN TRIANGLE EARINGS THEY HAVE ON??!! THEYRE LIKE MINE! OMG!”

couldnt contain her squealing, which eventually led you to hear her, to which you came up to her and she was SO HAPPY

(sorry chicas was so short, I typerd her paragraph but then it DELETED so :(( )

A/N: hope you enjoyed this! Remember to drink water and take care of yourself!! Xoxo loni

[adamstnheights]

I just want you to like me - Jake “Hangman” Seresin x F!Reader

Summary: You’re a bartender at the Hard Deck while completing grad school, which is how you met Jake Seresin. You and Jake began a “friends with benefits” type deal, using Jake’s aviation obligations and your education as reasoning why things couldn’t get too serious. Over the months, you have started to harbor deeper feelings towards him, afraid to speak up about it and potentially ruin everything you have with him. But when Jake returns from a two-month mission, your feelings for him reach a turning point in a moment of self-consciousness.

A/N: I’ve been slowly working on this fic for months ever since I got into Top Gun and TGM! I kept adding things and trying to edit and I finally felt ready to post! <3

Content: Friends with Benefits to Lovers, Self-Esteem Issues, Past of Bad Relationships, Mutual Pining, Idiots in Love, Confessions, Jake doesn’t know how to deal with feelings, Consent, Smut, Cunnilingus, Fingering, Unprotected Sex, Riding, Flirting, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Fear of Dying, Fear of Rejection, Reassurance, Bestie Phoenix and Bestie Penny, Wearing Jake’s Helmet, Military Inaccuracies

18+ content, MINORS DNI!!!!

Word Count: 14.6k

“Oh, shit, you’ve got to be kidding me,” you cover your face with your hands and duck behind the bar. Penny looks down at you as you cower next to a stack of haphazard boxes, laughing. She looks out over the crowd of people, her eyes catching the group of aviators who just arrived at the Hard Deck.

“Oh, come on, get your ass back up here!” Penny laughs, yanking at your shirt sleeve. “Are you seriously hiding from Hangman?” She sings his call sign in a teasing, singsong-y tone which makes you blush.

“I’m not hiding, I’m just… strategically placing myself so that he doesn’t see me!” You whisper urgently.

“You’re ridiculous! I’m not paying you to hide down there and repress your deep feelings for a Navy pilot,” she says and you sigh, leaning against your thighs to stand back up. You try to act naturally, like you were just picking something up off of the ground.

“I don’t have deep feelings for him,” you mutter in denial as Penny shakes her head, smirking.

You met Hangman six months ago when he first arrived at the Top Gun base for training. He’d caught your eye the very first time he stepped foot into the bar with the rest of the pilots, but you had tried to keep your distance. When you began grad school two years ago, you’d graciously taken a job at the Hard Deck and Penny quickly took you under her wing. After all this time working at the bar, you knew that these pilots came and went and certain types—Hangman’s type—were probably not the kind of pilot you would want to get involved with. But of course, Hangman must have sensed your trying not to get involved and did everything in his power to get involved.

Every time the Top Gun pilots would pile into the Hard Deck for a night of drinking, Hangman was instantly leaning against the bar and calling for you. Normally, you get annoyed to no end at patrons calling at you, as if you were merely their servant to get them drinks. But the way he called your name was sweet, and sometimes he even added a darlin’ afterwards, only making you blush more. He never just called you over to demand drinks; he would wait until you walked over to him and he would lean forward—eyes twinkling, cocky smile—and say your name again so you could say back: Hangman. And from there, a night of across-the-bar looks and some cocky, not-so-subtle flirting would ensue.

It didn’t take long for Penny to notice your flirting and the rest of Hangman’s squadmates did the same. Over time, you became close friends with some of the other pilots, especially Phoenix. She instantly picked up on the way that you looked at Hangman, and soon, it felt as if everyone in the bar were urging the two of you to get together. Despite the cheering from Hangman’s friends when one night you finally allowed him to take you out after your shift ended, he made sure to take your hand when you were out of everyone else’s earshot: I don’t mean to force you to do this. Things with the crew kinda got out of hand and I’m sorry if you felt pressured by me asking you in front of everyone else— But you had cut him off by cupping his jaw, leaning up, and kissing him sweetly on the cheek. For once, you had made Hangman go silent in awe.

The two of you had fun. It was pretty much a friends with benefits deal; you knew before it even started that Hangman wasn’t the type to settle down or even commit, for that matter. But it was still more than any other fuck buddy situation you’ve ever been in. You’d spend hours in bed together, talking, laughing, and watching movies. Some nights your phone would ring and it would be Hangman telling you Let’s do something. And then the two of you would be driving down to the beach at sunset and walking along the shoreline and laughing and running back to your place and falling into bed.

You never could tell where exactly the two of you stood. Friends with benefits? More? The month before the two of you got together, you’d always see Hangman whisk some other woman away at the end of the night. His whole being was the definition of man-whore, and he couldn’t help but flirt around at the bar, especially when he was drunk and singing with the rest of his friends. Since you started spending a lot of time with him, you couldn’t recall any time he would go out of his way to flirt with anyone else or take anyone else home. But even so, you never really knew what to think.

And then he was called away. Well, not just him, of course. Some kind of a mission was in motion and Lieutenant Jake Seresin was called to be on the team. They would be gone for two months and you doubted that he would be able to stay in contact very much. Before he left, he didn’t bring up anything about what the “plan” was for the two of you and his silence about it only made you more scared to bring it up yourself. You’d gotten him all to yourself the night before he left and you didn’t want to ruin it by bringing up the worst question of all time: What are we?

He sent you the occasional text while he was away. You knew he was busy; obviously he had much more important things to focus on than you. But still, you couldn’t push down the pang in your heart when you laid in bed alone at night, wondering if there was any chance Jake was thinking about you. Two months felt like an eternity and you didn’t know if he would even want to talk to you when he returned.

So when Penny heard through the grapevine that the boys should be home in a few days, you completely shut down in self defense. You pushed down any rising hope you had that Hangman would walk through the doors and run towards you with his arms open wide. The plan would be to act as normal and casual as possible and not make it known that you were totally, utterly falling for Jake Seresin.

However, knowing that he’s right here in the room with you now, your hands begin to sweat and all of the confidence you had to not let Hangman distract you goes out the window immediately. You look at Penny and sigh as the booming voices of the newly returned pilots become louder. It was silly of you to have assumed the pilots would not be piling into the bar the second they got back to base. Rooster and Phoenix make a beeline to the piano and soon enough, the bar is filled with singing. You watch Hangman join in out of the corner of your eye, trying to busy yourself by rearranging the glasses behind the bar. Rooster plays a song and you watch as Hangman belts out the words, throwing his head back and slinging his arm around Coyote as everyone sings.

When the song is over, Hangman scans the room over but stops completely when he sees you. It feels as though the wind has been knocked out of him, seeing you after two months of being away. His heart swells as he makes his way over to you, clearing his throat and running his hand through his hair quickly.

You can tell Jake is moving towards you and you tense up, thoughts all jumbled, and now you have no idea what you’re supposed to say to him anymore. He leans against the bar, as always, and you look up at him slowly, casually, but the moment you meet his eyes you feel as though your heart is exploding. You curse Hangman and his stupid, stupid effect on you. Maybe you don’t notice, but Jake’s breath catches in his throat when he looks at you, but he pulls himself together quickly and leans even closer, his signature smirk spreading across his face. He says your name, like always.

“Hangman.” You reply, focusing way too hard on your voice not cracking.

Jake looks at you, his expression softening as the sight of you makes his heart soar. He suddenly feels a rare surge of insecurity; usually you’ll beam at him and play into his shameless flirting but instead you look shy, pulled back. Was something wrong? Before he met you, he could easily charm a woman into bed by the end of the night and if she happened to reject him, he was never bothered by it. He would shake it off and try again the next night. But with you, he could actually lose you. This terrifies him. He doesn’t want to fuck this up, and the slight change in your demeanor since the last time he saw you is beginning to freak him out. He tries to tread lightly.

“I missed seeing your pretty face, sweetheart,” he drops his voice low and looks deep into your eyes.

Your heart leaps but you try to play it cool. You raise your eyebrow and smirk, “Oh, did you now?” You can easily keep up with a night of flirting. It’s when the conversation lulls and you catch yourself staring and imagining your whole future with Jake that it becomes scary. The way Jake is leaned forward on the bar, he has to tip his head slightly upwards to look at you. He looks pretty gazing up at you through his eyelashes. He not-so-subtly lets his eyes dart down to your lips and you curse yourself as your cheeks grow red.

“Do you close tonight?” He asks.

“I do.” You want to throw yourself into Jake’s arms but you need to hold him at a distance. For now, at least. You’re not used to having him back in your life again. For the past 6 weeks with only the occasional good morning or good night text, your heart slowly broke as you had to adapt to the absence of him. You know it isn’t his fault, but you can’t help but feel guarded from simply opening your arms right back up again.

“Can I… Could I see you? After you close?” He looks down for a brief second, licking his lips nervously. You bite your bottom lip. Jake has always been sweet and respectful about asking. He would make demands jokingly and flirtingly, but you knew that he would not want to make you do anything you didn’t want to do. You can see that Jake really wants to see you, but he’s still asking. If you say no, you know he will respect it.

“Y-Yeah. If you hang back after, I’ll finish up closing and we can…” you trail off, not sure what you want to say exactly. You want to kiss him again, to feel the rush of tingles that his touch sends through your body, but you’re scared. “...We can take a walk on the beach.”

Jake breaks into a relieved smile, reaching his hand out to rest on top of yours. His touch is warm and you know how easily you can get drunk from it. “I’d like that,” Jake says. There’s a sparkle in his eye that you aren’t immune to so before you can stop yourself, you’re slowly reaching forward and pushing back a strand of hair that fell over his face. You take your time and your fingers linger in his hair. Quickly though, you pull yourself away and begin to make Jake’s regular drink, giving yourself a chance to catch your breath.

When you hand Jake his drink, he thanks you and goes to say something else, probably something cocky to ease the tension. But to your relief, Payback and Coyote call for him to go over and take shots with them. Jake gets up and goes to leave, but not before flashing you a sickeningly charming smile. You laugh and shake your head as he runs to the other side of the bar, his drink sloshing around in his hand.

The rest of the night treks on as usual. You and Penny watch as the pilots gradually become louder and wilder, celebrating that they all returned safely. Penny knows that every time you look over at the group, your eyes are only on Jake. As midnight approaches, most of the other patrons have left and the wildness that had encompassed the bar a mere hour ago has settled down. Most of the pilots, including Hangman, are playing probably their third rotation of pool. You try to ignore the way you grow hot watching Jake lean forward against the table, pool stick in hand, a look of utmost focus on his face.

“So what exactly is your deal?” Penny leans her elbows on the bar in front of you, blocking your line of sight to Jake and jolting you out of a fantasy.

“I— what?” You laugh out of embarrassment even though you already know Penny knows exactly what is up with you. “With me?”

“Yeah. You and Hangman. You’ve been staring at him all night, why not go over and say something? Anything? You haven’t seen him in two months!”

“Well— I’m working right now! For you! And I’m closing tonight. But for your information, I told him I would see him after I’m done closing, so don’t worry your pretty little head,” you smile, genuinely touched that Penny is this invested in your and Hangman’s story.

“Look, I know I was wary about him at the very beginning, but I can tell… He really likes you. I just know it,” Penny tells you, “I don’t know if he knows what the fuck he’s doing, but I’ve never seen him act as head over heels as he does with you.”

“I’m just scared,” you admit, “I don’t want to assume anything and get hurt, you know? What we have now, it’s nice and I’m content. I just don’t know what exactly he’s thinking about me. I don’t want to bring it up and… have it ruin everything.”

“Okay, so he hasn’t come right out and said it yet, but I think you’d be a damn fool to not notice the way he looks at you,” she smiles.

Of course you notice the way he looks at you, the way he bounds over to you when he notices you’re in the room, the way he so naturally puts his arm around you and holds you close. Still, your brain can’t help but convince you that he’s only giving you all of his attention out of convenience. After past relationships of always giving more than what you received, you can’t bring yourself to be vulnerable first. You don’t want to be hurt again. You know it’s your own insecurities, but you can’t allow yourself to give someone your all just to be let down and rejected; it’s humiliating.

Anxiety continues to rise in your chest. “I dunno…” you manage to say, “I guess we’ll see what happens later tonight.”

Penny shoots you a daring smile, despite you not meaning it in a suggestive way. She pats you on the back, “That’s what I’m talking about!” She continues cleaning behind the bar, getting ready to leave for the night. You’d be left to manage the bar for the last hour and a half before closing. 

You live only a few blocks away from the bar in a cute, craftsman style house, so even at work, you’re never too far away from home. Everything in town is pretty close to each other. Most of the military-provided housing is only 5-10 more minutes away from you—a pleasant convenience you found out when you first started seeing Jake. If the two of you were spending time together late into the night at your place, he could easily gather up all of his stuff and get back to his place in a matter of minutes. 

Spending the night at the other’s place, however, was actually a very rare occurrence; you always chalked it up to having classes the next day and Jake always chalked it up to having to be on base early the next morning. It never really bothered you, it just seemed like an unspoken boundary that the two of you established for  whatever this is. There are only sometimes where you’re watching him get dressed in your room at midnight and you wish you had the guts to ask him Will you stay tonight?

Now, you’re wondering if you’re ready to have him come back to your place again. He’s in his usual tan uniform that flatters him to no end, but it’s when he’s all tangled up in your blankets with one of his crewneck sweaters that he keeps at your place on and his hair slightly messed up and falling over his eyes—that’s when you really feel yourself falling, hard.

Penny leaves and slowly the pilots begin to leave as well. Phoenix comes over and gives you a hug goodbye, promising that the two of you will catch up over lunch soon. She clicks her tongue and nods her head over to where Hangman is, talking with Rooster. You roll your eyes and she rolls her eyes back at you as if to say You’re so in love. You start to clean up, sweeping the floor behind the bar and gathering up the trash. You see Hangman and Rooster leave, making the bar empty except for yourself. You know Hangman will come back soon and your heart races thinking about him returning just for you. You wipe down all of the tables, restack all of the cups, and once everything inside is done, you lock up and go to take the trash bags out by the back.

The deck wraps around three-fourths of the bar and you exit to the side where the dumpsters are. The air is cool and comfortable. When you’re done with the trash, you linger a few moments leaning up against the deck railing, looking out along the beach. Your mind is going a mile a minute, excited about getting some alone time with Jake but also extremely nervous.

You feel like you can’t control yourself when you’re around him. Deep down, you know you’ll want to jump him the moment you see him, but after being away from him for so long your stomach twists at the thought of being that vulnerable again. Jake has never made you feel dirty or used, but memories of past partners and flings are stuck so deeply in your mind that you can’t help but feel insecure in sexual situations. The amount of times people have left you after getting you into bed, the fake caring about anything other than sex, the lack of respect under the guise of well we’re not even serious… it still haunts you. You don’t think this is the same, but how can you really know? There’s always a possibility of rejection, of them getting bored of you, not wanting to stay anymore. You’re not scared of getting naked and having sex with someone, you’re scared of the after—the room full of silence as you lay there and you’re cold and the kindness is gone and you feel used. 

Your phone vibrates in your pocket and you answer it. “Hey, you.” You can’t help but smile, spinning around and looking for Jake.

“Didn’t want to startle you,” he says on the other line. You can see through the windows of the bar that he’s on the other side of the deck area. When your eyes meet, you can see that he’s grinning ear to ear.

“Get over here, cowboy,” you smile, making a come here motion with your finger that makes Jake go crazy.

“Is that an order?” He asks, eyebrows raised.

“Yes, it is, Lieutenant.” You hang up and start to walk around the deck, a little skip in your step as you hear Jake running and then he rounds the corner and sees you and he calls your name. He runs, his arms reach out to you and you jump into them, wrapping your arms around his neck as he lifts you up. You squeal as your feet are lifted off of the ground and you bury your head into his shoulder until he puts you back down. He looks at you with his sparkly green eyes and a grin.

You hold your hand out to him. “Shall we?”

He takes your hand and you walk down the steps of the deck and onto the beach. Neither of you say much, but you feel as Jake gives your hand small squeezes as you walk, and you rub your thumb over the back of his. Jake keeps glancing over at you and you catch him glancing and you both turn your heads away, smiling.

“Why so shy, darlin’?” Jake asks, swinging your arms as you walk. “Am I too handsome to look at for more than a few seconds?”

“Oh please, I’m embarrassed for you that you’d even suggest that,” you nudge Jake with your shoulder.

“You’re head over heels for me, you just don’t want to give me the satisfaction,” Jake teases, but his face falls slightly when you don’t nudge or pinch him back. You just keep looking forward and walking. You are head over heels for him, but you just don’t know how to go about saying it. If you say it, then you’re putting yourself in the position to be left, and that’s too scary.

Meanwhile, unbeknownst to you, Jake is having the same inner conflict. While on the mission, Phoenix had made a handful of pointed comments to him about how he needs to get off his ass and do something about his feelings for you. Jake had been too stunned to even ask how she knew about his feelings for you. If he had asked, she would’ve laughed in his face—it was so obvious. She had told him, You have her, Hangman. Don’t mess this up. Of course he doesn’t want to fuck things up with you—that terrifies him. He gets overwhelmed every time he sees you or even thinks about you. He’s never felt this way about anyone before. What on earth are you supposed to do with all of these feelings?

Both of you take your shoes off and dig your feet into the damp sand, facing out towards the dark, crashing waves. Then, you’re sitting down next to each other, looking up at the sky of stars. Your one hand is resting on your knees while the other is flat on the sand behind you, propping yourself up. You can feel Jake’s hand resting right next to yours and your fingers twitch as you lift one and touch it to his. Lifting your hand slowly, you rest it fully on top of his and he smiles at you. Before you can second guess yourself, you’re leaning your whole body into him and he wraps his arm around you as you rest your head on his shoulder. You close your eyes and listen to the sound of the waves.

You’re snapped out of your dream because you swear you hear Jake sniffle. Not wanting to alarm him, you slowly reposition your head on his shoulder and ask softly, “Are you okay?”

“I…” Jake falters. People in Jake’s life hardly check in with him or ask him what’s wrong. He doesn’t know how to respond. He especially doesn’t know how to respond to you. When you’re in front of him, he feels as though his breath is swept away and he’s left with a loss for words. “I don’t know. Can’t really… explain it.” He squints and tries to focus on the waves so he doesn’t start crying. He’s normally so sure of what to say, but not when he’s still so shaken up from the mission and doesn’t know how to tell you how he really feels.

“That’s okay, you’re okay,” you say, wrapping your arm around his waist and leaning into him more, “I’m here for you. You can tell me anything, even if you think you’re not making sense.”

“I’ve been pretty overwhelmed. The mission was really rough. I definitely got… a couple of reality checks. I did some stupid things under pressure. It wasn’t what I had expected at all.” He turns to look at you and his eyes are wide and he’s never been this vulnerable with you before. He swallows hard.

“I’m so sorry,” you whisper, “That must have been really hard.”

Jake nods. “Yeah…” he turns to look at you, a slight smile on his face, “I bet you think I’d never admit this, but it was tough. And I honestly…” was afraid of dying, “...nevermind.” He pushes his fears that almost reached the surface back down.

You can sense the sincerity, the vulnerability, in his voice. You sit up and face him, your noses close to touching. You gingerly touch and hold his cheek and lean in, your noses brushing, and you kiss him. It’s soft and comforting and Jake wraps his arm around your back to support you as you lean further into him. He smiles into the kiss and cups your jaw and he leans back slowly into the damp sand as you fall on top of him. His lips break apart from yours and you’re staring down at him, a pink blush across his cheeks, and he smiles up at you with his perfect, toothy grin.

Maybe you can’t tell, but he’s out of breath from the effect you have on him. You’re gentle with him. No one’s ever gentle with Hangman. That’s why he acts so cocky; he’s used to constantly being challenged and having to defend himself with a sharp edge—at the expense of coming across as a brazen douchebag who’s too hard to get along with. But you care about him and you don’t see him how everyone else sees him. You’re sweet and gentle and kind and plant kisses all along his cheeks and neck when the two of you are laying in bed. Your kisses can be hard and rough when you want them to be but usually they’re soft and sweet and Jake likes that. You’re the only one who’s ever put up with him for this long or listens to his stories and sometimes he feels guilty because of it. He feels that you deserve better. He thinks that trying to use his words to tell you how he feels about you will only ruin everything, because he’s learned over time that more often than not, when he opens his mouth, that’s when things go downhill. One day, maybe you will realize that Jake is not enough for you. He doesn’t know how he would deal with that.

It’s hard to catch Hangman in a state of deep thought, but it’s easy to tell when it’s happening. You watch as Jake looks up at the stars, his eyes darting around the sky and his eyebrows slightly furrowed. You wonder what he’s thinking about. You have no idea what went down on that mission, but you can tell it took a toll on him. You’re not sure if this is a good idea or not, but you pry. You run your fingers through his hair, and he lets you of course, and you say, “Jake, you can talk to me. About what happened on the mission.”

He shakes his head too quickly, like he didn’t even give himself a chance to consider that he can actually open up and talk to someone if he just let himself. “Nah,” he tries to say nonchalantly, “I mean, it doesn’t really matter.”

You frown. Maybe everyone else could allow Jake to brush away his problems, but you can’t. You move off of Jake and kneel in the sand next to him. Slightly confused, Jake props himself up in the sand on his arms, and you cup both sides of Jake’s face, gently but with purpose.

“Jake. It does matter. You matter to me. I care about you and I can tell that something’s off and I want to be… someone you can talk to,” you say firmly.

Jake feels like his head is spinning. He thinks, Are you real? He wants to hold you and spin you around and kiss you and know for certain that he will never have to spend a day without you again. He’s never felt so safe before. He turns his head slightly away from you, not knowing if he’ll be able to look you in the eyes and say this. He takes a deep breath and it feels like he’s about to leap from a cliff.

“I’m afraid of dying,” Jake finally whispers. He expects you to laugh or make some snarky comment—everyone else does it. But you don’t say anything. He can feel your eyes on him, but he doesn’t feel scrutinized or judged, he just feels seen, for the first time in a while. So, slowly, warily, he continues. “I know I always act like nothing bothers me and that I fly too perfectly to ever get killed in action but… I really could die out there. And I almost did and it was terrifying,” his voice cracks and you reach your hand out to take his and when he looks at you, he almost breaks down. “I was scared that that would be it. That I wouldn’t make it back.”

“It’s okay to be scared,” you say, “You’re amazing, Jake, I honestly have no idea how you do what you do every day. You’re the bravest person I’ve ever met. But that doesn’t mean you can’t be scared. You have a whole team of pilots who care about you, and I’m here for you, and I… I’m so glad you’re here. I’m lucky to be able to spend time with you.”

Jake blinks back a tear, turning fully towards you. You pause in case he wants to say something more. You want him to be able to tell you anything. His eyes are glistening and he’s smiling at you, pure adoration spread across his face. Maybe another day he’ll find the words to describe all of his deepest fears and insecurities, but for now he just squeezes your hand in appreciation and admires how the moonlight illuminates you. He doesn’t need to say it—you know he’s telling you Thank you. Thank you for being here for me. 

“I missed you,” you say, giving him a little nudge.

“And I missed you, darlin’.”

Later, the two of you walk up to where the waves are crashing and get your feet wet. Of course, Jake tries to kick the cold water up into your face and you run away from him laughing. He chases after you, yelling your name. Running out of breath, you stop in your tracks and let him grab your hips and spin you around and kiss you. You stretch your arms up to drape them over his shoulders as he leans down into you. A moan escapes your lips and Jake grins into the kiss, holding onto you tighter.

“Mmm… moan for me more, sweetheart,” Jake purrs half-jokingly, letting you pull away from him because you’re giggling too hard.

“Nice try, Hangman. How about you walk me home?” You start walking in front of him and hold your hand out behind you. He skips to get back in step with you and takes your hand, his lips tingling still with the feeling of yours on them. He smiles, so utterly amused by you, and you walk hand-in-hand down the beach towards your house. He wishes he could figure you out easier; he notices how you avoid saying his real name, despite how his heart flutters when you say Jake, and he wonders if you’re doing it on purpose just to get his eyebrow to quirk.

After walking off of the beach, your house is only two blocks away. You’re starting to feel sleepy, but the way Jake’s thumb is rubbing the back of your hand as you walk is making you want him. When you reach your front door, though, a wave of anxiety washes over you. You turn to face Jake and he’s looking at you with a dazzling smile. You know this is the part where you either invite him inside or ask him to text you when he’s gotten home safe. His hand is still intertwined with yours but he’s standing a few steps back. He doesn’t want to overstep or pressure you—you know he won’t step forward without your permission. You want more than anything to pull him into your place and kiss him hard but you suddenly feel nervous, as if you’d never done this before. You close your eyes for a moment and swallow.

“Well… will I see you soon, Lieutenant?” You ask, mad at yourself for not just going for it. Jake’s expression wavers for only a second. He would spend every second of every day with you if he could, but he would be lying if he said he wasn’t also nervous. The more time he spends with you, the more likely he is to eventually fuck things up. He bows dramatically in front of you and places a kiss on the back of your palm.

“You can see me whenever you want to,” he says earnestly, a blush spreading across his cheeks.

You step forward and lean up, kissing him quickly and leaving him breathless. You let go of his hand and turn to open your door, looking over your shoulder, “Text me when you get home, Bagman!”

Jake laughs, shaking his head disapprovingly. You wiggle your fingers at him in a bye-bye motion. He walks backwards down your front pathway so he can keep looking at you. He waits for you to step into your place before turning around to start walking home himself. You close your front door and watch from the window as he turns the corner. 

You get ready for bed and as you’re exiting the bathroom, your phone dings on your bedside table. It’s Jake texting you I’m home safe along with a slightly blurry selfie of him in the mirror brushing his teeth. His hair is falling forward into his face and you feel like you’re going to collapse at how attractive he looks. You write back Looking good, cowboy! and you don’t see it but Jake’s face lights up when he sees the heart you added at the end. He will lay in bed thinking about every possible way he could tell you that he adores you, if only he had the guts to do so. And you lay in bed, scrolling through your camera roll, looking at all of the silly, caught-off-guard pictures you’ve taken of Jake where he’s grinning like an idiot and his dimples are showing and Oh, God, you’re really fucking wrecked for him.

———

The next day goes by like any normal Friday. You wake up, grab breakfast, and hop in the car to drive over to campus. Paying attention in class only slightly helps you stop thinking about Jake; he always finds a way to sneak back into your thoughts anyways. During your last class of the day, you have an exam, and you stupidly feel sad that Jake hadn’t texted you that morning to wish you good luck. You obviously hadn’t gotten a chance to update Jake on your academics last night, but before, he would always know what you were up to. If he knew you had an exam to study for or a paper to write, he would be your own personal cheerleader. He’d bring you coffee if you needed to pull an all-nighter, and he’d do a horrible job at trying to incentivize you: “For every sentence you write I’ll give you a kiss!” “Jake, that’s gonna distract me even more! I’ll never be able to finish writing if you keep kissing me!” You try to ignore the fact that you miss him like crazy and how you’ve never felt so scared to like someone so much before. You grip your pen tighter and try to focus on the exam.

Then, he calls that evening. Jake knows you always have off from bartending on Fridays. In fact, when he first found out, he started ditching the rest of the crew at the Hard Deck to spend time with you. He’d show up at your place, a huge grin spread across his face as he eagerly waited for the door to swing open. And there you’d be, just as happy to see him. Neither of you called these Friday night dates “dates” even though that’s what they were.

When you answer the call, you’re just getting back into the house after hitting traffic on the way home. You balance your phone between your shoulder and your cheek as you fumble for your keys, “Seresin?” Something inside of you can’t allow yourself to say Jake. It’s almost too domestic, especially considering most of the people in his life call him by his callsign. Ninety percent of the time it’s Hangman; people rarely call him Seresin, let alone Jake. When you think of his name, your chest tightens at all of the sickly romantic feelings you feel for him, and how you’re too afraid to find out whether he feels the same way about you.

“Seresin?” He emphasizes, half-serious shock in his voice, “Aw, come on, darlin’, what’s going on with you? What happened to Jake? Or, if I’m not mistaken, it’s more like Jaaaake—” he heightens the pitch of his voice, softly mocking the way you tend to moan out his name in bed.

“Oh, shut up, Hangman,” you snort, “To what do I owe this pleasurable phone call? Are you okay?”

“I’m okay. Do have a bit of a problem, though. I, uh, ordered way too much takeout and I can’t possibly eat it all by myself,” he says in a tone that tells you he absolutely bought too much takeout on purpose so he could have an excuse to call you, and you can’t help but break into a huge smile. “So… I thought maybe you could come around and we could—”

“Okay. Yes.” You say it before you could even try to stop yourself. Jake is too powerful for your own good. Live in the moment, or whatever, right? What could be so bad about doing what you and Jake have always done? You know he must care about you, enjoy spending time with you. It’s just the little voice in the back of your head that makes you scared, but you try to ignore it. You want to be with him. “I just got home from class. Give me a few minutes and I’ll be there.”

Jake’s house is only a few blocks away, and the sun is beginning to set as you skip down your porch steps onto the sidewalk. As you get closer, you feel your hands get sweaty and you force your brain to decide whether you should let your heart lead tonight. Yes, you want to protect yourself, but you want Jake more than anything. As you turn the corner and walk up to Jake’s door, anxiety begins to rise in your chest and you try desperately to calm it down as you knock.

The door swings open mere seconds after, and an energized-looking Jake is standing there beaming at you. He’s wearing a slightly worn coffee-colored t-shirt and black sweatpants. You try not to choke at the sight of his strong arms, the veins in his hands, the way his fluffy hair is begging to be pulled at. You clear your throat and smile shyly back at him, almost embarrassed. Why are you so damn nervous?

“Well, are you just gonna stand there?” Jake’s right eyebrow quirks upward. “Cat got your tongue? You undressin’ me with your eyes?” You open your mouth to retort but just look mock-angrily at him, disapproval all over your face.

“Sorry, sorry, I’m just fuckin’ with you,” he smiles sweetly, holding back a laugh at how you can shoot him such a cold hard stare at a moments notice, “Well, kind of. But if you don’t get your pretty self in here now, I will shut this door.”

“Oh, you—” You giggle and grab his arm to push him back inside when he bends down and picks you up, completely sweeping you off your feet. His arms are wrapped around your thighs and you squeal as your balance gets yanked from under you for a split second, but you know you’re safe and steady in his arms. He’s laughing as he slams the door with his foot and runs inside with you basically flung over his shoulder. “Seresin, I swear!” You cry out between laughs.

He runs around the living room couch with you on his shoulder, kind of like the victory laps he’ll do when he wins a football or volleyball game down on the beach. Rounding the corner of the couch once more, he slips just slightly and holds you tighter as he leans forward so you fall onto the couch cushions, only slightly painfully. He’s tangled up in you, one arm still by your thigh and the other hand is right next to your head, steadying his fall. He looks down at you and you look up at him, breathless. His eyes look to your lips and he takes his time to look back into your eyes. He raises his eyebrows just slightly, and you know he’s asking for permission. You don’t think you have it in you to say anything, so you cup your hand tenderly along his jaw and he’s leaning forward until your noses are touching and you feel his hot breath as he wavers there for a moment. You close your eyes and close the gap, pressing your lips to his.

You had kissed him last night on your porch, but you hadn’t given him much time to react. This time, Jake’s hand slowly drags up your thigh and to your hip where he holds you. His mouth doesn’t leave yours as he re-balances himself in between your legs so he can take his other hand and hold your jaw right behind your ear. His fingertips are gently massaging your scalp as he deepens the kiss. You let out a soft moan and he smiles against you. He breaks away, but his face stays close to yours. You hold your breath, eyes darting around his face.

“I…” Jake begins, letting out a sigh, “...am so hungry. For you, of course, but also for the food I got.” He watches as your expression goes from confused to exasperated, and you playfully hit the side of his arm.

“You’re evil!” You laugh as Jake peppers your neck with kisses and goes to stand up.

“Hmm, I like keeping you on your toes,” he winks at you and clicks his tongue, walking to the other side of the room where the kitchen area is. You smirk, shaking your head disapprovingly and following him. As he described over the phone, he definitely did get way too much takeout, also conveniently from the place you and him always go to and find yourselves craving. Your heart flutters for a moment as you grab two of the containers and take it over to the square kitchen table.

Another nice thing is that you and Jake can have moments of silence that aren’t awkward. When the two of you are at the Hard Deck or on the beach around the rest of the Top Gun pilots, you definitely play up your snarky, flirty comments at each other. The rest of his crew’s attention only eggs Hangman and his ego on, so he’ll follow you around and do whatever it takes to get a reaction out of you. But when it’s just you and Jake, there are more small moments.

You’ll catch him looking at you and his eyes will only light up more, his adorable dimples becoming more visible as he smiles. When you take walks along the beach, your arms will brush against each other and both of you will lean closer and closer until your fingers slowly intertwine and you feel a burst of warmth spread from your fingertips to the rest of your body. Jake will stop by your house in his truck on a whim and you’ll go on drives where you playfully argue over what music gets played, but Jake secretly likes when you play your music because he likes hearing you sing along. He likes his hair being played with, but only when the two of you are alone because Jake Seresin would not be caught dead with his hair getting messed up in front of his colleagues. His fluffy, roughed up hair is only for you.

You sit cross-legged in one of the wooden chairs across the table from Jake and start eating. You look at Jake as he’s in the middle of chewing and he gives you a goofy, closed-mouth smile.

“Thank you,” you say, motioning to the food in front of you with your fork, “I’m happy that you didn’t forget our…” you stop for a moment, and Jake raises his eyebrows in a half silly, half intrigued way, “...our Friday date nights.” Your voice trails off at the end but Jake heard you quite clearly and he lights up inside.

“Of course I wouldn’t forget,” he says simply, “Fridays wouldn’t be the same without you.” You blush and smile, finding it hard to maintain eye contact with him.

You and Jake catch up. You fill him in about your studies and he admires you for your drive and accomplishments, saying that he’d never be able to do what you do. Laughing and shaking your head, you say that you could tell him the exact same thing, asking him about the mission. He can’t go into too much detail, but says that he’s glad everyone returned safely. You maintain eye contact and nod as he explains to you all the ins and outs that you don’t really understand, and yet you find yourself smiling as he bursts into his passionate way of describing things.

Later, you’re helping Jake clean up in the kitchen when he walks up behind you and snakes his arms around your waist. The ticklish feeling makes you giggle and place your hands over his arms that are hugging you. You expect him to say something, but he remains silent. He slowly nuzzles his nose into your shoulder and breathes in deeply. He squeezes you just a little bit tighter.

“...Jake?” You ask. He practically shudders at your use of his real name. “Are you okay?”

“Just missed you,” he mumbles into your shoulder, “...A lot.” He turns his head and presses slow kisses on your neck, making you shiver. Your legs almost buckle from the shock that his lips send to your core. You can’t help but let out a low moan which only makes him grip you tighter. He gives you a small bite on your neck and drags his teeth down to your collarbone, pulling the collar of your sweater to the side.

“Ohh…” you sigh, reaching behind you to grab onto Jake’s arm. He promptly grabs you and spins you around to face him, pushing you gently up against the counter. His hands rest low on your hips and his eyes search yours. It’s your move now. Jake doesn’t want to be overbearing, he doesn’t want to make a wrong move and mess things up, he doesn’t want to do anything to make you hate him. He sucks in a breath and waits for what you will do.

You will push your deep feelings for Jake away and insist that you will be just fine when you pull him by the collar and kiss him back. You drag him over to his bed and lay down and grab at his hair as he kneels down between your legs and makes you feel good. You lean back as his tongue laps at you and his arm extends out to grab your hand and intertwine your fingers together. He pushes his tongue against you harder and squeezes your hand harder, and you squeeze back, shutting your eyes tight. When he looks up at you from between your legs, he has a fire in his eyes, dripping with desire. He licks his lips which are covered in you. His strong hands grip both of your thighs and press them farther apart as he latches his mouth onto your clit. You cry out and dig your nails into his scalp, earning a deep moan from him. His mouth leaves you once more and he glances at you.

“I— Is this okay? Are you okay?” He whispers, out of breath, his thumb lazily circling over your clit as he waits for a response. You moan because it feels so good and his eyebrow quirks upward, amused from watching you squirm under him. “Darlin’?”

You groan and grind your hips up against his thumb. “Can you… can you use your fingers?” You choke out, “Please?”

Jake smirks and you want to smack him for acting so cocky but before you can even try, he’s leaning up over you and holding his middle and ring fingers out towards you. You instinctively open your mouth, just slightly, and he slips his fingers in. You suck on them, not breaking eye contact as he looks down at you intensely. He pulls his fingers out of your mouth slowly and rubs a few wet circles over your clit, which you barely have time to react to before he slides his fingers down into your cunt and you arch your back and cry out, “Oh—fuck!”

“Hmm? You like my fingers?” Jake smiles as he pumps in and out of you, curling his fingers with every thrust.

“Mmhm,” you whimper, biting down on your lip. With all you can muster, you shoot him an angry look and pant out, “Oh Jake, fuck, please please use your mouth at the same time…”

“Yes, ma’am,” Jake takes no time settling back in between your legs, lapping and sucking at your clit while his two fingers are curling inside of you. You’re moaning and grabbing at his free hand, he’s moaning into your cunt and the vibrations feel so good. Damn Hangman for knowing what he’s doing and doing it so perfectly.

“Fuck, fuck, keep going, oh my God,” you moan, managing to prop yourself up to watch Jake eat you out.

“Wouldn’t dream of stoppin’,” he mumbles into your skin.

He laps at you hungrily and you throw your head back. He doesn’t let up for a single moment, knowing your body so well. He keeps going and keeps going and he feels you starting to clench around his fingers and he keeps going. You can almost feel his cocky grin as he grinds his mouth into you. You can’t see it but his cock is hard and as badly as he wants to slip a hand beneath the waistband of his sweatpants and jerk himself off, he won’t because he’d rather be holding your hand as he makes you come undone on his mouth.

“Jake…” you strain, “I’m close.” Your hands are in his hair, pulling at it fiercely and digging your nails in, making him groan.

“Oh, fuck, please come on my mouth,” he moans. He holds you as you buck your hips into him and your legs writhe.

And suddenly, you’re coming and it sends sparks through your body and your hand shoots out to grasp onto Jake’s arm tightly and you choke out, “Jake—!” You whimper as he works you through it, fingers still pumping into you, slower now, and his mouth is soaked and he has the biggest, most content smile on his face. He places wet kisses on your inner thighs as you continue to shake.

As you catch your breath, Jake crawls up the bed to press kisses to your neck and you tug at the bottom of his t-shirt. He smiles and pulls the shirt over his head quickly, his lips back on your neck in an instant. You wrap your arms around him and he lifts his head up, looking at you.

“Do you want me?” He whispers. His hair is out of place, disheveled, some strands stuck with sweat on his forehead. He’s so criminally hot. You’re used to coming up with something snarky to compete with his own lines, but the way he’s looking at you so intently, you can only say, “Yes.”

That’s all he needs to hear and his lips are on yours, passionate. He holds your jaw and his other hand slides up your sweater and the two of you giggle softly as you lean up so he can pull it over your head. Your hands grab at the waistband of Jake’s sweatpants and he grins in between kisses as you palm him through his boxers. He groans and tries to remain his composure over you but his eyes flutter between being open and shut as he grinds his hips into your hand.

“Fuck, that feels so good, sweetheart,” he praises.

You dip your hand into his boxers and he shudders as you grip his cock. He rushes to pull down both his sweatpants and boxers, kicking them off quickly. You’re smiling at his eagerness and he catches your eye and laughs softly, leaning forward to kiss you again. You wrap your legs around him and shiver at the feeling of his hard cock resting against you. Your legs squeeze tighter around him. He spits into his hand and rubs his palm over the head of his cock, then slides it over your clit and down against your entrance.

Jake looks at you. He hesitates for a moment, which you only see as him teasing you like he frequently does, but he’s nervous. Something different about this time. Not that every other time didn’t make him go equally as crazy, fall equally as hard for you. He had been away from you for two months and now that he finally has you again he’s scared that maybe you don’t want him anymore, that you won’t always want to wait around for him. He freezes up and now you notice the way his eyes are wide.

“Jake…” You place a hand on his cheek.

“Sorry, sorry,” he shakes his head, “I—” he lets out a small laugh, “I’m kind of nervous, to be honest.”

“Nervous?” You smile, “You just made me come on your fingers. Hard. What… are you nervous about?”

Jake’s expression softens at your praise. “Whenever I’m around you I’m nervous,” he admits quietly, “You make me short circuit.” You’re surprised at the way he says it, no hint of humor or playfulness at all. You brush your thumb over his cheek comfortingly.

“You have no need to feel nervous,” you whisper. Then you swallow hard, adding, “You always have me.”

His eyes light up and he pushes you back onto the bed and his lips collide with yours. He pulls away and grips his cock, looking down as he pushes slowly into you. You gasp out at the feeling of the head inside and Jake wavers, watching your expression. It hurts a little bit, but you look up at him and nod fervently, urging him to keep going. He pushes in slowly and lets out a low moan. You shudder as you engulf him. He fits in you perfectly.

“You feel so fuckin’ good,” he murmurs, rocking his body into you.

You hold him close as he fucks into you. With every moan and whimper that escapes your mouth, Jake’s cock twitches inside of you. He positions himself exactly where he knows he can hit the spot that makes you cry out in pleasure. Jake is panting, his breath hitching every time his cock disappears inside of you. You’re clawing at his back, pulling him close so you can kiss him again, and it’s erratic and hungry. You reach your hand up next to your head to grip onto the blanket but Jake grasps your hand with his instead.

“F-Fuck,” Jake groans.

“Jake—” you gasp as you can feel another orgasm slowly growing. “You—fuck—you feel so good, Jake.”

Jake’s body jerks forward at the sound of you moaning his name. His eyes flutter closed for a moment as he’s overtaken with the pleasure you’re giving him, groaning out a string of fucks and dropping his head into your shoulder. He keeps fucking you, just a bit slower. He feels like he could come at any moment. His thrusts stop and he kisses you. When he pulls away, your noses touch and you look up at him.

“Are you okay?” You ask softly.

“Y-Yeah,” Jake nods, swallowing hard and catching his breath, “Do you… fuck, can we switch positions, maybe?”

You smile, a twinkle in your eye that makes his heart swoon.

“Let me ride you,” you say.

“You can do whatever you want to me, darlin’,” Jake’s eyes are wide in adoration as he pulls out and watches as you get up and lightly push him backwards onto the bed.

You straddle him and he whimpers when you reach behind you to grab his cock. His hands are instantly glued to your hips and he greedily tries to buck his hips up into you.

“Fuck me,” he rasps. “Please.”

Any thoughts of teasing him go out the window and you sink down onto him, leaning your hands on his chest to steady yourself. You bounce on his cock, leaning forward so your foreheads are almost touching. His hands are wrapped around you and your hands are around his shoulders. You’re both sweaty and breathless, kissing each other feverishly in between moans. He holds onto you tighter and fucks up into you at a relentless pace, and you choke out his name in between moans.

“Don’t stop—oh my God,” you plead, bringing your hand down to rub fast circles over your clit.

Jake grunts in response, his whole body glistening in sweat, his brain becoming complete mush as he watches you move on top of him. Everything about you makes his heart flutter and his cock twitch. He can feel himself getting close so he stops bucking into you to let you grind your hips into him while you touch yourself. He watches you intently, lust practically dripping from his expression as you throw your head back, grinding into him at a desperate pace, your hands pressed against his chest. Jake could fall in love with you. Maybe he already is.

“I’m close,” you whine, “OhmygodI’mclose…” You bounce on him again and he bucks his hips to slam up into you at just the right timing.

“M’close too,” Jake murmurs, “Come on my cock, sweetheart, I’ll come with you.” You feel his hand on yours and he’s helping you rub your clit and oh fuck you’re going to come. You tense up your legs and whimper, your body jerking forward and your head buries into Jake’s shoulder as you come hard. 

“Jake—!” Your legs are shaking and you’re whimpering fuckfuckfuck as Jake wraps his hands around your back and he ruts into you recklessly, coming inside of you as you’re spasming around him. He moans out your name and throws his head back and keeps thrusting up into you as he comes.

Slowly, your body relaxes and you lean forward and upward off of him, shuddering at the feeling of his cock leaving you. Jake is breathing heavily, his eyes half closed and his hands resting on your waist. You place your hand on the headboard behind Jake to gain balance and you shift over to lay down next to him. He grabs your hips and tries to pull you to fall on top of him, but you slide away next to him on the bed. Now you can feel yourself begin to panic.

You’re acutely aware of how you’re completely naked in Jake’s bed and you feel exposed and you’re not sure how to deal with all the feelings you have for him. As much as you want to believe Jake’s actions towards you are genuine, you can’t help but worry that he only sees you as someone he likes to fuck. You feel your whole body shivering in the bed and you feel uncomfortable and cold. Jake is breathing hard lying on his back, his arm still splayed out towards you, trying to get you to come back and cuddle. You’re antsy to get back home, to be alone and catch your breath. And you definitely don’t want to overstay your welcome, so you quickly roll over in bed and sit up, your back towards him, bending down to pick up your sweater.

“Wait, hey, what’s wrong?” Jake asks, propping himself up on his forearm. You make the mistake of turning around to face him, and you see a look in his eyes that you’ve only caught a handful of times before. It’s genuine, soft. Your heart aches just a little more for him.

“Nothing’s wrong,” you shrug and pull your sweater over your head. He reaches for your hand as you tug your shirt into place.

“Well… if nothing’s wrong, will you stay?” He’s staring at you with his wide, eager eyes. You’re stunned at his question, remaining frozen in place.

“Stay?” You try to ask him sternly, to challenge him, but instead it comes out as a self-conscious whisper. Jake tugs again at your hand, beginning to rub circles on the back with his thumb.

“Yes, stay.” He folds open the covers for you to climb back underneath with him. His eyes don’t leave you and he looks nervous that you might actually just get up and leave. His eyes dart around your face, trying to get a read on what you’re thinking.

“Do you… really want me to stay?” You ask, unable to meet his eyes. “You don’t just want to keep me here to go another round or something?” You curse at yourself for self-sabotaging and accusing him of something you know he would never do to you, but it just slipped out.

Jake lets out a laugh, moreso out of shock than humor. “What—? No, I really want you to stay here with me. I dunno, I was thinking we could maybe watch a movie later and…” His composure falters and he furrows his brows, hurt, “...Do you really think that I just want to use you? After all this time we’ve spent together?”

You frown, “No. I– I don’t know. I just… I’m scared that you just see me as a fuck buddy and one day you’re going to find someone prettier to take home because you could find so much better and then you’ll completely forget about me.” You swallow hard, not expecting to lay everything out on the line. Hot tears sting your eyes as Jake sits up and pulls you closer to him. You’re both sitting cross-legged, facing each other. You keep babbling in an attempt to stop yourself from crying, “I mean, we never really talked about what we were before you left and so I wasn’t sure if you would just want to be done and when you were gone I missed you so much and I realized how much you mean to me but I got scared that you wouldn’t… I– I just want you to like me.”

Jake lets out the breath he was holding in, trying to hold back the elated feeling he has knowing that your feelings are the same as his. “Do you not see how I look at you every time you’re around?” He asks quietly, brushing his thumb across your cheek and looking into your eyes. This time, you don’t look away and you let yourself get lost in his gaze. You see the softness in his smile. “You- I swear to you, you’re the only woman that’s been on my mind ever since we met. I know how I can be, I know the stories the other guys probably told you when we first met, but I promise I just want you.” You don’t say anything so he squeezes your hand with emphasis, “I like you. So much.”

Now the tears actually fall, but only because you’re so overcome with emotion. Jake had never said anything so vulnerable to you before and you hold his arm as he cups your face and kisses you, slow and gentle. When he pulls away, he brushes the tears from your cheeks.

“I’m sorry,” Jake says, “I’m sorry that I didn’t say anything to you before I left. I… I’m not very good at expressing my feelings. I got scared that I’ll say something wrong if I try, and that I’ll just fuck everything up. I’m not used to this, to feeling so happy with someone. I’ve never cared about anyone as much as you. I guess I was just too scared to tell you, that maybe you would want someone better. But I never meant to make you feel like I didn’t want you.”

“Oh,” you say, looking down at your lap for a moment. When you look back at Jake, his eyes are shiny with tears, as are yours, but you’re both smiling. Jake’s dimples make your heart soar. “I guess we were both being kind of silly. I would never—” your voice cracks a bit, “I would never want someone else. I want you. I was just nervous that I… couldn’t call you mine.”

“I’m yours, I’ve been yours since the first night we met,” Jake smiles. He looks up at the ceiling, pondering for a second, “Well… maybe the second night.” A devilish smile spreads across his face.

“Wait, what?” You exclaim in mock hurt, grabbing his arm, “What do you mean? What did I do the first night?” You’re giggling as he pulls you into his arms.

“No, no, I—” he’s laughing, at how silly what he’s about to say is, and because he’s in total euphoria knowing that everything is good with you, “I… okay, look, I know I was really pestering you that night. I was drunk—”

“You were very drunk, Seresin,” you scold him playfully, resting your chin on his chest.

“Yeah, yeah, it was pretty bad,” he admits, “and you know me, I uh, probably came on pretty strongly…”

“That’s why I was trying my best to ignore you,” you giggle, pressing kisses on his chest. “Jake. You were so horny.”

He turns red, shaking his head and laughing, running his hands up and down your back. “I was so drunk and I think I took your rejection—which, by the way, I completely understand—really personally. Like when Coyote dragged me home I think I was crying because I was so upset. And he was like ‘Dude, you have got to stop acting like a slut in front of a woman you’re trying to impress.’ I was sure I’d have no chance with you again, so I almost just tried to give it all up.”

“Well, I’m glad you didn’t give it up.”

“The next night, the moment I saw you again, everything else just went out the door. You wouldn’t leave my mind. And when you smiled and laughed at my jokes, and actually enjoyed my dumb flirting, I was head over heels. It’s always been you, my dear.”

You lean up to kiss him. “You’ve always had me. Since the very first night.”

Jake beams.

———

“Hey, darlin’.”

You’re curled up on the couch in Jake’s living room under a huge fuzzy blanket; all of the lights are off except for the light coming from the television, turned down to volume 4. You look up and see Jake smiling at you, standing in the doorway to the bedroom. He walks over to the couch and gets under the blanket, sitting next to where you’re laying. You scoot down and snuggle against him.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you up,” you whisper. It’s currently 5 am. “I know you had to get up in an hour or so to get on base so I was praying I wouldn’t wake you up before—”

You’re cut off by Jake shifting his body to face you, and he takes your hands in his. “No need to apologize,” he says, “Is everything okay?”

“Yeah,” you smile, “I woke up in a drunken sweat and I chugged a bunch of water and then I was too awake to fall back asleep so I just stayed in here.” Jake laughs softly and squeezes your hands.

It’s been a week since you told Jake about your feelings for him and he told you his. You both laughed at how silly you both had assumed the worst about how the other felt and promptly decided to become exclusive—what both of you have wanted since before Jake even left for the mission. Jake was elated, knowing that he could now walk around and call you his girlfriend, his partner.

Usually at the Hard Deck, you and Jake would purposefully play up the flirting, partially to get reactions out of the other aviators. You had always been too shy to do anything too tender, too gentle, in front of everyone else because you weren’t sure if that’s what the two of you were. But last night, when Jake and the rest of the Dagger Squad arrived at the Hard Deck during your shift, he didn’t hold back. When you walked over to his table to hand everyone their drinks, Jake had snaked his arm around your waist and kissed you sweetly, catching you off guard. When you both pulled away, everyone’s eyes were on you. Rooster had looked over at Coyote, whose eyebrows had shot up. Phoenix sat there with her mouth wide open, and Payback nudged at Bob and Fanboy to stop playing pool.

“Am I… missing something? A new development of sorts… perhaps?” Phoenix drawled teasingly. Bob was giggling, covering his mouth with his hand, and everyone else was staring, blinking, waiting to see what you or Hangman would say.

“What?” Jake had quipped, acting exasperated. “Can’t I kiss my girlfriend in public?”

Everyone’s expression then turned to excitement and they all started exclaiming at the same time, but you were smiling too widely at Jake to even hear any of them. He saw your happiness and winked, kissing you again. His girlfriend. You were on cloud nine.

Since putting a label on things, the two of you also finally started spending the night together. You’d switch up whose place it was at, but there was no longer an awkward feeling of having to gather up your things to “head back home.” Whether you were at your place or Jake’s, you were at home. It only mattered that you were in his company.

Last night, after stumbling back to Jake’s place (he wasn’t as drunk as you, although you remember him stumbling just as badly as you were up the steps to the house), you’d fallen asleep on top of Jake in a tangled, drunken mess. You woke up mere hours later, sweating all of the alcohol off and having a pounding headache. You’d drank some water and ate some leftovers from the fridge and suddenly felt full of energy, thus why you chose to stay on the couch in the main room instead of returning to bed.

“But you’re feeling alright now?” Jake asks you.

You nod and lean on his shoulder, laying your hand on his chest. “Yeah, I feel good now. I just feel really awake. I don’t think I’ll be able to get back to bed at this rate.”

Jake hums as his arm is wrapped around you and his thumb rubs over your shoulder comfortingly. The room is silent for a few moments and you’re focused on how Jake smells like amber and firewood. Then, you feel Jake shift his body to look at you, and you lift your head off of his shoulder to meet his eyes.

“What if we did something?” Jake asked.

“What do you mean?” 

“Right now, let’s do somethin’!” He flings the blanket off of him and stands up, grabbing his keychain and watching amusedly as you cock your eyebrow at him. “I have an idea,” he says, holding his hand out to you. “Trust me?”

Of course you do. You take his hand.

You’re in the passenger seat of Jake’s truck and have no idea where you’re going. You roll the window down and let the cool, early morning air hit your face. You catch Jake glance over at you multiple times, every time you hit a stop sign without fail. You look back at him, each time, fighting the urge to lean forward and pull him in for a kiss like a giddy teenager.

Jake keeps driving and then he makes a turn that makes you realize he’s driving onto the base. You turn to look at him, quirking your eyebrow upwards and smiling as if to say What are you planning, Seresin? He pulls into a spot near the hangar and shoots you a devilish grin as you both get out of the truck. You run around the side of the truck to stay by his side, never having been here before, obviously. He’s grinning like an idiot; he was just sleeping a mere thirty minutes ago but now he looks like he has twice the energy as you. He holds out his hand to you and you take it and he’s running, dragging you along, and you do feel like a giddy teenager, sneaking off somewhere you aren’t supposed to be.

He leads you in through the side door and down a hallway to where a large locker room is. You doubt anyone is on base yet—maybe the Admiral or someone else higher up, which does make you nervous, but the hallways are dark and silent. Jake leads you to his locker, H_NGM_N written at the top. He swings the locker door open and you almost fall over when you notice a photo of you, placed sideways so it could stick in the door and not fall out. It’s a picture of you on the beach, from one of many nights you and Jake walked along the sand, and he had pulled out his phone and pointed it at you as the sunset sky was turning pink and orange and he told you to smile! but you got flustered and covered half of your face instead, using your other hand to reach out towards the camera but it was too late, he already snapped the picture. And there it is, in his locker for him to smile at every time he opens the door.

“What…?” you start to ask him what you’re doing here but trail off when he gives you a mischievous look that says Just wait.

You decide to keep your mouth shut and you look at the green flight suit hanging up in the locker, as well as some more casual gym clothes for workout days. He reaches up to the top shelf and picks up his helmet—the one that makes your heart leap when you see Jake wearing it in pictures he sends you. He closes the locker and turns to you, grinning ear to ear and his eyes slightly scrunched up in happiness. He takes a step forward, your bodies pressing against each other, and he tilts your chin upward and kisses you. You almost fall into him, sighing into the kiss and wrapping your arms around his waist as his hands cup your face gently.

“I’m gonna sneak you into the hangar, onto my F-18,” Jake grins in between kisses.

You look at him, stunned, and your heart rate picks up just thinking about it. You weren’t an aviator—you’d never even stepped foot near the base before. Your whole body warms at the thought of Jake wanting to include you in what was pretty much the most important thing in his life. Your stunned expression turns into a huge smile, matching his. He takes your hand and leads you to the hangar. You knew it had to be a huge space in order to fit all the aircrafts, but you don’t realize how expansive the thing was until you step into it. It opens up onto the runway, where the sun is just beginning to rise over the horizon. Many different aircrafts are lined up in the middle, supplies and tools lined up on the sides. Jake watches as your head turns every which way, taking in the whole place, and he smiles at the fascinated expression on your face.

Jake leads you over to the F-18 that has “Lt. Jake Seresin” written on the side (“Hangman” is right underneath). The top is already lifted up, the cockpit ready to be sat in. It’s a single-seater and you see Jake’s smile almost certainly straining his facial muscles as he holds his hands out towards the seat, the same level of excitement as if he were presenting you a birthday gift he’d been planning for months, beyond excited to watch you open it.

“Are you sure about this?” You ask as Jake climbs up onto the side of the plane, holding his hand out to help you step up, over, and into the seat.

“You know how important flying is to me,” says Jake, “And I want you to know how important you are to me, too. So I thought… why not bring both you and flying together?” He sees your eyebrow raise quizzically, almost scared, and he adds, “The F-18 is not leaving the runway with just you in it, obviously. And… no offense, of course.” You both laugh. “Maybe one day I can get you on a two-seater,” Jake ponders, “But until then…”

You get situated in the seat, eyeing all of the buttons and switches in front of you. Jake leans over the side, watching you intently as you take in everything. You always knew you could never do what Jake does, but now you absolutely can confirm it. You try to put together some of the pieces from what Jake’s told you in the past about how flying works; your eyebrows knit together as you lean in, observing what all of the buttons say on the switchboard and Jake smiles at how cute you look, trying to understand.

Jake rests his chin on the top of the opening of the F-18, stretching his arm out to point out different things to you. “Here you have the left instrument panel, left vertical panel, left console.” He points. “Then over here,”he reaches further over you to point, “is the right instrument panel, right vertical panel, right console.” You try to take it all in, enjoying listening to Jake’s voice as he explains. “Okay, on the left: left side warning lights, as such—” he makes funny, dramatic gestures at what he’s describing and you giggle, “—left digital display center, aaaand the integrated fuel engine indicator. Up top here are two handles… because takeoff can be rough and throw you ‘round a bit. And— Wait, I know what you’re missing.” He jumps down from the side of the F-18 for a moment, and when he comes back up, he’s holding his helmet out towards you and grinning like an idiot.

“You want me to—?” You’re almost at a loss for words. It’s almost equivalent to him handing you an expensive family heirloom that had been passed down for generations. You knew damn well that Jake did not let anyone touch his hair (except for you) and you doubted anyone else would be able to put their hands on his helmet lest he become physical. Your heart swells from his warmth and doting on you. Jake nods, smiling, urging you to put it on.

It’s heavier than you would have expected and when you place it on top of your head, the top falls partly over your eyes and you have to push the helmet back in order to see. When you do, you see Jake smiling at you, a pink blush over his cheeks. He puts his hands on either side of the helmet by your ears and steadies it as perfectly as he can on your head, gently tilting the visor over your eyes, “H_NGM_N” displayed over your forehead.

You glance up at him through the clear goggles, “Do I look good?”

“You look good. You look very good.”

“So, Lieutenant, what do I have to do to get this thing to fly?” You lightly tap on a bunch of switches, pretending to know what you’re doing and earning a lopsided grin from Jake.

“Well,” Jake says, “if you put your hand on the control stick here, then you can steer this thing wherever you wanna go.”

You grasp the control stick, unsure of how exactly to have your hand, and turn to look at Jake for his approval. He nods and leans forward a bit, extending his arm and resting his hand over yours. You shiver at the warmth of his hand and the way it engulfs your own hand. His grip is firm but gentle around you, and he guides your hand as you move the stick right and left, pretending to steer the aircraft. Your whole body is tingling at the feeling of Jake helping you “fly” his plane—you feel secure with his hand over yours. He’s making funny noises trying to simulate being in the air and he’s calling out things like Break right! Enemy aircraft at 6 o’clock! and you’re giggling and leaning into his touch as he hangs over the side of the plane.

You break out of the silly pretend and turn to look at him and it takes him a moment to realize. He stops talking mid sentence and catches your gaze and his eyes go all soft because wow, he is just so mesmerized by you. Jake grins, his dimples showing, and reaches out to tilt the visor up into the helmet. Your eyes sparkle. He wants to kiss you and you notice. Slowly, you trace your hand up to the collar of his shirt and dip your fingers around the chain of his dog tags, gently pulling him closer. Not wanting to bump his forehead against the helmet, he tilts his head and slowly, tantalizingly leans in until his soft lips touch yours. You feel everything else around you disappear.

“Hey, Bagman!”

You jump away as Jake whips his head around to see Phoenix and the rest of the Dagger Squad walk onto the hangar. Phoenix is leaning up on her toes, waving at you and Jake. Rooster is nudging Bob and they’re giggling.

“Didn’t know we had a new trainee,” Coyote smiles.

You don’t know it, but Jake had also confided in Coyote about you while they bunked together on the mission. Okay, maybe Jake didn’t confide in him so much as he could tell that whenever Jake would zone out it was because he was thinking about you. So Coyote had asked what was going on with the two of you and Jake bit down on his tongue as he thought about how he could even begin to explain what he felt about you. Coyote scolded him for not not being upfront with his feelings, and Jake had laid awake that night, staring at the ceiling, scaring himself by thinking about what his life would be like without you.

Now, Coyote sends a quick wink to his friend, as if to say Proud of you. Jake grins and nods back to him.

“What’re you guys doing here so early?” Jake asks, “Thought for sure the place would be empty for at least another hour.”

“Well, Bagman, if you’d read the group chat earlier, we decided to come onto base early so we could still play football down on the beach before it rains later,” Phoenix smiles, “But I guess you were a bit preoccupied to check your phone.” She catches your eye and gives you a devilish grin.

“I– I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to get in the way here,” you say quickly, lifting yourself from the seat to signal that you would get on your way.

“No, no, wait!” Phoenix runs forward and tilts her phone up at you, snapping a picture of you wearing Jake’s helmet in the seat. She inspects the photo she took. “Adorable.”

Jake turns to face you and he’s glowing. He holds his hand out for you to take and he helps you step out from the F-18. Normally, you wouldn’t know exactly how to conduct yourself with Jake when you were around the other pilots. But standing in front of the rest of them, seeing their excited and happy expressions as Jake puts his arm around your waist, you’re relieved and content to know you can simply lean into him and not feel scared of your feelings anymore. Jake is enthused to show you off to everyone else.

When you hop down onto the ground, you stand next to Jake as the group approaches.

“Captain,” Jake nods towards Maverick, who is standing towards the back of the group. “I promise I will make up for today’s workout. But I will have to catch y’all… later.” Jake reaches behind him to grab your hand in his.  Jake squeezes your side and holds his helmet under his other arm, twirling his keys on his finger.

After you pass the group, Jake intertwines his fingers with yours and pulls you into a run, leading you back into the locker room. As soon as the door closes behind you, he’s wrapping his arms around your thighs and lifting you up, spinning you around. He’s looking up at you, absolutely enthralled by your glowing expression.

“I’m sorry,” he’s saying, breathless.

“What are you sorry for?” You ask as he puts you back onto the ground.

“For not telling you how I feel sooner, for not doing all of this sooner,” he motioned his hands around the room, “Taking you here, showing you around, being able to be us around other people…”

You smile widely, cupping his jaw and tugging him closer to you. “You don’t have to be sorry,” you whisper, “I’m just so happy that we’re okay now—better than okay. I’m so…”

“...Grateful to be in a relationship with the best aviator in the Navy?”

You snort and pinch his cheek. “Yes, Jake, that’s exactly what I was trying to say,” you giggle.

Jake laughs, leaning down to kiss your cheeks over and over again. You’re weak in his arms, succumbing to his kisses. You’re more than happy—you feel as though everything in the world has fallen into place perfectly. You wrap your arms around him, not wanting to ever let go.

[dragons-and-art]

Do you like the color of bird?

As an experiment i decided to do a specie swap with the dragon bunch, as a design exercise to see what defines each of my goobers. I started by turning them all into draygon birds, somehow ending with several more species of fluffy cloud friends.

Honestly it is perfect, since i already had the idea of having my cloud draygons come in different colors, each fitting a shade of the sky. I ended with four subspecies, called Midnight Grey, Rose Morning, Midday Blue, and Golden Sunset.

Vinny and Vex get to be Midnight Greys, fitting to their dominant and sometimes misjudged personas. These draygons are known as the strongest yet most elegant of the four subspecies, with more tidy feathers that allow them to fly quietly through the night. These two specifically come in slightly different shades due to their parents being of different species, with Vex getting a redder hue and the usual bulky build of the breed, while Vinny retains the proper blueish shade but with an odd thinner frame.

Nala gets to be the cutest thing alive by being a Rose Morning bird lass. Very active draygons, specifically in the morning. They are the smallest of the four, with short wings and stubbier bodies, but with the best control over their air magic, which allows them to lift off quickly and fly with surprising speed in short bursts.

Drixie would be a MIdday Blue gal, the sea bird of the four breeds, with wings best designed to cut through the air and soar with little assistance of their air powers, making them extremely good at long flights, sometimes having enough endurance to fly across continents. Also to note, this breed is usually very tall and sharp, the second tallest in fact, but Drixie's short and round genes are strong lol

And last but not least, Summer! Of course he gets some text <3

As a natural Golden Sunset cloud draygon, he's is one of tallest subspecies with his own height at 8'9", with strong wings to fly through the intense late afternoon winds, or sit still in the sky almost like a fluffy kite with the help of their elemental magic. Like their gray cousins, they were considered rare sights, as they used to keep themselves at a distance from the ground, some still preferring to live and roost in mountain peaks and far away islands. But in modern times you have odd ducklings like Summer who enjoy a life near the ground.

[anarchy-and-piglins]

Fun AU time! Call it an "adopted introvert" au!

Technoblade is alone and alone is how he likes it. Absolutely. He's not lonely. Not at all. He just likes spending his time adventuring! Can't have friendships when you are adventuring, it takes too much time.

Anyways, Technoblade is exploring a fortress when he comes across a strange room. It has some kind of altar thingy? Its ancient. He is looking around it when he accidentally bumps into something. Sets off a Mummy-style rube Goldberg machine that breaks a vase hanging above the altar.

Out pops a flustered blond man with massive black wings, blinking at Technoblade with confusion.

The guy opens his mouth to speak and Technoblade books it. Conversation can't get him if he runs. Take that, socialization.

Technoblade runs for a while, stops to breath and check behind him to see if the guy is following him. He sees no one and turns back around.

Blond man is grinning at him, covered head to toe in soot.

His name is Philza. Technoblade didn’t ask, but the guy introduced himself. He was sealed up in that vase for REASONS. Philza does not explain those reasons, but Technoblade doesn't ask. Mostly because Techno is doing his best to jog away. Philza doesn't let him. Philza basically shouts at him that now that Techno freed him, Philza is bound to follow him everywhere. Techno is frozen in place by that. Oh no, he's been cursed with company. The absolute worst.

Techno finally stops to ask how to undo it. Philza is giddy as he tells Techno a variety of very silly tasks he needs to do to have them split.

Technoblade sighs and agrees, heading off in a direction as Philza chats with him.

Here's the thing. Philza lied. They are not bound together. Philza just got trapped because he was a bit too silly and MAY have caused a civil war in the nether. But he's just a silly guy! He's just having a fun time, living his best life. Not his fault people can't take a little bit of mischief and decided to seal him away. He was just having fun.

His fun DOES have a body count, but that just shows he is the LIFE of the party.

Anyways, Techno and Phil travel together. Sometimes, Techno feels like he should leash Philza because the man keeps doing ridiculous things (PLEASE do not steal all the saddles in the village, Phil! We can't do this!). However, Philza is also pleasantly surprised about Techno's streaks of chaos. If anyone tries to imply Techno CAN'T do something, you better believe he's gonna. (No, Techno, you can't sit in the shiny gold chair. Its reserved for the mayor-PLEASE STOP OVERTHROWING THE MAYOR!)

Philza loves this about Techno. They both can be so chaotic. But Philza also loves how Techno seems to mellow him out, to. Philza doesn't feel the constant need to DO. To EXPERIENCE. He can just...fish by the lake with his bestie. Its nice.

Phil eventually comes clean about not being bound. Of course, he comes clean about this AFTER Technoblade wears sliced potatoes in his socks for 3 days, one of the "trials" he made up at the start. Techno is quiet at first about that, and Philza is very nervous he just lost his only true friend.

Techno shrugs and says he should have seen that coming. Betrayal, from his new best friend! How could he? The audacity of this man! The cruelty! The gall! Techno goes on and on until Philza is laughing at Techno's dramatics. Techno jokingly asks how he can seal Philza back in a jar for this affront. Maybe a chicken canning company? Philza is so relieved that Techno isn't mad.

And Techno isn't. He had spent enough time with Philza to know when the man was lying. It became clear that Philza was bull shitting him. He had his suspicions for a while. But the company was NICE. Like a missing piece. He felt so much calmer and happier. What's one lie?

Techno declares that Philza can only make it up to him if he does all the trials that he convinced Techno to do. Philza tries to argue against this, but Techno is deadset. And Technoblade is so stubborn that eventually gives in.

Phil's going to regret making Technoblade speak backward for a week. Phil can't even read, how do backward words work???

Anyways, silly little thought! Just a fun Emduo having goof time.

Phil really thought going about making friends in the most fae way possible was a good idea and Techno's like "sure lmao" I love them <3

[spidernuggets]

Hey, I've been reading your stuff for a while and I was wondering if I could request number 16 from the quote prompt list. Once again I think this will be great as usual <3

Jason Todd x Reader

Notes: HBOTitans!Jason Todd based while he was still Robin

"Why do you care? You could've just walked away"

You and Jason never got along really well. You hated his guts but at the same time, you didn't.

Ever since you joined the Titans, you and Jason began this extremely competitive rivalry. Who can knock the other one fastest during sparring. Who can come up with a better strategy. Christ, who can get to the bathroom the first in the morning.

You don't really know when this started. You knew Jason had a tendency to judge people before he got to know them. But you wanted to be his friend when you first met.

And you couldn't doubt that Jason was real attractive. Even when he was trying to one up you in everything, you couldn't help but admire how skilled he was.

Sure, you'd somehow show your appreciation to his abilities, but it's been over a year, and he still hates you. So you hate him, too. You don't know why he hates you. You didn't do anything wrong to him when you joined, but sometimes these things happen. And you told yourself not to let it get to you, but he can be so aggravating sometimes, and you hate that you don't truly hate him as much as he may hate you.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Alright, and Jason and Y/N, you two will be paired together to scout the area for the wanted convicts." Dick demands during the current debriefing.

A mishap occurred in Gotham Prison, and a load of felons and criminals escaped, scurrying all over Gotham. Dick gathered a meeting with the other Titans to round up these convicts and return them to the prison.

"Hell no," Jason said. "Pair them with Rachel. I'll go with Gar or- or anyone!"

"Love ya too," you bite back sarcastically, rolling your eyes.

Dick sighs in annoyance. "Listen, the two of you need to get along. These are just a couple of convicts. You'll be fine. You'll improve with your training if you learn how to fight together without fighting each other! We're not switching pairs, and that's that." He says, walking out of the room before Jason could complain again, the other members following suit, leaving you and Jason remaining in the debriefing room.

"Hey. Stay out of my way, or I'll throw you in Gotham Prison with the other convicts," Jason threatens.

You threw your hands up in defence. "Ooh, so scary. Don't clip a wing out there, birdie," you snarl as Jason storms out.

You rolled your eyes. Not even an hour into patrol, and Jason ran off on his own.

"Holy shit," you whisper, looking at the dark, isolated streets below.

A group of criminals dressed in prison uniforms, about 12, were spread across the gloomy streets, drinking booze that the most likely have already stolen.

Suddenly, a fight breaks out. You squinted your eyes and saw a familiar red and green figure, kicking some of their asses.

"For crying out loud, is this guy allergic to a plan or something. One of them could literally pull out a flamethrower from out his ass." You complain to yourself, watching Jason in action.

You can hear his cocky voice in the back of your head tell you that you're overthinking this, followed by some pet name he always gives you.

Impressively, Jason seemed to have it under control. You wanted to either sit back and watch or simpmy walk away. But he's still one guy against twelve. And he's still your teammate.

"For fuck- UGH," you groaned, jumping after him, joining the fight.

"Late to the party, sweetheart," he says, earning a scoff from you.

Most convicts seemed inhumanly buff, others quite lanky, but still able to pack a punch.

Luckily, both you and Jason were well trained and already knocked out almost all of the men.

"I got seven down!" Jason remarks, panting as he punches out another guy. "Might wanna catch up, babe," he yells over to you.

"Would you shut up for 5 minutes, Robin!" You yell back, kicking the ass of another criminal, marking your 4th knockout. "You know, you don't have to be an asshole about everything!" You bark, turning to face him. "You're better than me, okay?! Is that what you wanted to hear? Well, there you go!"

Jason stood a distance from you, speechless. He joked around many times to make you say that he was better than you. But he didn't mean it. He always thought you were better than him. You were barely trained when you first joined, and yet you fought so well. He admitted to himself that you were badass and that he wanted to be as a fast of a learner as you.

You scanned around the area, out of breath after your quick rant. But then you pause. "Eleven," you whisper.

Jason looks up at you. "What?" He asks.

"Eleven. There's- There's eleven here. There were twelve convicts. Where's the last guy??" You say, beginning to panic.

Jason's eyes widen. "Behind you!" He screams. You swiftly turn, and you're met with a tall, very muscular and gruff man, charging towards you. He runs past you, heading towards Jason.

With his keen reflexes, Jason throws one of his Rs, aiming for the leg. It lands perfectly as the man screams in agony, falling over. Jason stabs another R blade into the other leg, proceeding to kick him in the face with his boot, knocking him out completely.

"Shit," Jason sighs, looking around at the scene. Before he was about to link in with the others through the comms, he notices you in the distance just standing there, your back facing him.

"S/n?" He calls out, but you don't reply. He sees your arms move in front of you, and his eyebrow raises in confusion.

Your arms fall limp to your sides, and in one hand, you hold a long, bloody knife.

"S/N!" Jason yells out, running towards you, holding onto you tightly before you could fall to the ground.

Jason stutters out a string of curses, trying to apply pressure to your wound. "You're- You're gonna be okay, Y/n... Okay? I- I already called Dick and the others, they'll be here, just- just stay awake! You can do that, yeah? You're so strong, just stay awake, please!" He begs, his clothes drenching in your blood.

"I.. I can't, Jay," you weakly whisper out, muffled by your painful whimpers. Your eyes started to get heavy, and all the noise began to fade. All you could hear were the other Titans running up to you and Jason's voice yelling at you to stay awake.

You thought you were dead. You felt dead. But your eyes open to a very bright light. You groan, blinking away the burning sensation in your eyes.

"Sweetheart? Shit, okay, you're okay," a voice says in relief.

As your vision unblurs, you can make out Jason's face hovering over yours.

You groan something to him, and he repeats a few confused "what? What did you say?"

"Jesus, take this thing off me," you repeat, referring to the oxygen mask on your face. Jason complies, removing the mask and gently rubbing your face, smoothing out the red dents that the mask left on your skin.

"Shit, how long was I out for?" You ask.

"Two days," Jason replies, sitting in the seat beside your bed.

"My everywhere hurts, and I can't feel anything at the same time," your voice was rasp, and your eyes were tired.

"I could've handled them myself, babe. What were you even thinking?" He said, slightly annoyed but didn't want to stress you in your current state.

"That you were my teammate, and that it was my job to help you," you weakly reply back.

Jason just stares back at you. "Why do you care? You could've just walked away."

You let out a dry laugh. "That was my initial thought. Look, I know you hate me, but at least give me some credit here."

He looks at you dumbfounded. "I don't... I don't hate you.." He admits.

You face slightly scrunches up. "What? I... Then why are you always trying to beat me in everything? I tried- I wanted to be your friend but- but you just..."

"You started it!" He childishly says back. "You kept showing off at how much better you were at fighting than me ever since you got here."

Your face softens. "I just... I just wanted to impress you," you quietly tell him. "I saw you sparring with Gar while you were blindfolded. You were so amazing, and- and I just wanted to be like you," you confessed. "I don't hate you either."

Jason's shoulders slumped. All this time, he thought you were trying to show that you were better than him. But you were trying to impress him? You were admiring him?

He understands the situation if Dick were in his place. Hell, everyone looked up and wanted to be like Dick. Never in his life has someone told him that they wanted to be like him. To be like Jason Todd.

Jason sighs. "I'm sorry, babe." He says, his head hanging low.

You lightly shook your head. "Nah, it's okay. But please, kill it with the pet names."

Jason laughs. "Why? Careful, sweetheart, you might make yourself look like you like like me," he teases, trying to get a reaction out of you.

But you only turn your head away from him, not answering. You thought this was a subtle reaction, but it got Jason raising his brows and leaning forward.

"Do you actually?" He asks genuinely.

You shook your head. "Forget about it. It was just a thing." You try to push away the topic.

He pauses. "Would it just be a thing if I said I felt the same?" He carefully asks.

Your head faces him, eyebrows knit together. "What-"

You're quickly interrupted as Jason stands from his chair, hovering over you and placing his lips against yours, one hand cradling your fave as the other holds him up above you.

You were too tired and weak to raise your hands to his neck, but strong enough to kiss him back, your lips perfectly synchronising with his.

I feel like i made that ending a little rushed, but the scenario was playing on repeat in my head and really wanted to add it in!!!

ALSO, it really makes my day knowing that you've been reading my stuff for a while, Anon!!! Hope u enjoyed your requested fic!!! 🙏🫶

[notquitebunnie]

Please welcome my baby, Remiel

Context: @2af-afterdark made a God!MC au, so I took that concept and made my God!MC revive the Seraph that Gabriel killed. He's an old, one time, OC for a collab, but he's perfect for this so I decided to bring him back

Remiel

Nation: Heaven

Epithet: The Eater of Devils

Idiosyncrasy: Forced Orgasm

Zodiac: Gemini

Height: 185cm

Weight: 77kg

Length: 27cm

Confidence point: Eyes

Favorite food: Hot pot with broth made from the bones of devils

Favorite accessory: His lyre

Favorite weather: Cloudy day sky and clear night sky

Habit: Flicking his wings

Hobby: Cooking

Ideal type: God himself

Ideal target: People who are reactive

Ideal body type: Soft and squishy bodies

More infos ⬇️

It's a long one

Likes: Feeding heavenly pets devil meat, eye-care, wing-care, Collecting devils' horns

Dislikes: Bright flashing lights, serious people, rain, Avisos(too bright even at night)

☆ •☆ • ☆ • ☆ • ☆ • ☆ •☆ • ☆

@2af-afterdark wanted to know

What is his favorite dessert?

• His favorite dessert is Peach Crumble

Is he a morning person or a night owl?

• He’s a night owl, he have 12 eyes so he’s very sensitive to light

What is his worst "bad habit"?

• His worst “bad habit” is hoarding devil corpses, he cooks some of them but the rest go bad before he can get to them

What is his love language (not exclusive to the main five if those don't fit)?

• His love language is Words of Affirmation, he loves being praised, bombard him with it and he’ll drown you with praises as well

What is the most mundane thing that brings him pleasure/joy?

• The most mundane thing that brings him joy is people/creature watching

Can I give the most gentle butterfly kisses to all of his eyes and hold his hand?

• Yes, yes you can, he would love it. Careful when you’re holding his hands though, he have an eye on each

☆ •☆ • ☆ • ☆ • ☆ • ☆ •☆ • ☆

• He have 12 eyes

• He can control each individually or as a group

• 4 on his face

• 2 on his shoulders

• 1 on his chest

• 2 on his hands

• 3 that line his back

• He usually have them closed cause it can be disorienting sometimes

• Only used when he lost track of his opponent

• He likes to tease people he knows, but if his teasing doesn’t work, he’ll try again with a different topic

• He teases Gabriel every time he receives attention from God

• Ex: “Gabriel~ guess what~? God praised my singing again~”

• He teases Michael every time Michael decapitate anyone

• Ex: “Don't waste their heads, Michael, would you mind gathering their heads for my dish?”

• He teases Raphael every time Raphael’s covered in blood

• Ex: “Awww, their blood would’ve made for some delicious broth…actually, Raphael, wanna come sit in this cauldron for a while?”

• He have one devil friend

• Her current whereabouts is unknown, ever since he got revived he has been trying to find her

• She used to be a resident of Gehenna, she left not long after his death

• Teased her about her love life

• Ex: “No luck with devils? How about I hook you up with an angel instead?”

• He treats anyone he doesn’t know coldly

• Ex: First meeting with God!MC he said “Who tf are you?” With a poker face (which then led to Gabby smacking Remiel across his head; Gabriel: "Disrespecting our (new) God? Not on my watch")

• He sang while playing the lyre for God often because he have a beautiful singing voice

• Have tried to cook every single body parts and organs of devils

• Have a notebook of how to and how not to cook certain parts

• He likes to gently nibble something or someone

[splatoonpolls]

SPLATOON OC TOURNEY ROUND 4 BATTLE 4

Talia Yareli by @gingergari vs Tami by @wyrm-in-a-closet

PROPAGANDA/BACKSTORY

TALIA

Talia (age 24 (~16 in splat1), pronouns he/her) is from Calamari County! Her family consists of her mother, her older sister Moselle (28, a firefighter) that she looks up to a lot, and her younger sister Ren (18). He originally moved to Inkopolis to make a living as a pro battler, which he did for a few years with his roommate turned girlfriend Peri, maining both Dynamos depending on the kits given. Then Grizzco opened for business, and it turned out that they paid pretty well all things considered, and that they were both *really* good at it. (They also thought it was fun for the most part) Since they were consistently hitting the upper ranks of Profreshional, when Grizzco expanded to the Splatlands the pair were invited to relocate as Eggsecutive VPs to help support the branch and to help train up some new recruits. That's how Victoria (Eggs) and Fiorello (Safety) ended up joining them :] Speaking of nicknames, Talia has the worst name memory in the world and has a lot of trouble remembering the names of people and occasionally objects, so he gives them a nickname she remembers a lot better. (Peri is a nickname! But sometimes Talia falls back on pet names until he remembers either her nickname or actual name) He is very worried that he comes across as rude for it (or anything in general) so tries to be as friendly as possible. He was the one that gave Safety the life preserver gear as a gift! Talia is a huge fan of Big Man (finds that he relates to him the most) and did cry when he lost the leader splatfest :( Also cried when he was homesick and tried to get her favorite dish, clam mochi, at a Splatlands restaurant which turned out as you would expect. His favorite splatband is Sashimori. Talia is friends with my Agent 3, but does not know the truth about Grizzco.

TAMI

An inkling born to ordinary parents who worked at Gone Fission power plant. However, a salmonid big run happened in the area, and because Grizzco didn't yet exist, it had to be abandoned, and Tami's parents were killed. Tami herself, who was also there, was badly injured and lost her right arm, was found by some salmonids, but because she was a young inkling the salmonids didn't know what she was and so instead of killing her took her home. She then spent almost her entire life growing up with the salmonids, and became a very skilled fighter, but also starting a band with a couple other salmonids. They make music that's like horrible to listen to and will overestimate you. Once she was 14, she joined the war on salmonids on the side of the salmonids. Over time Grizzco expands and poses a larger and larger threat to the salmonids, so Tami decides that she's going to go try and put a stop to it, because she's the only one who could make it to inkling civilation without being killed, although that doesn't change the fact she didn't know the language, culture, or anything. After spending several nights on the streets of splatsville, Tami is found by Tide, an octoling who's been living there for some time. Tide takes Tami under their wing, despite them knowing nothing about each other. Over the next few months Tide teachers Tami inkling language, has Tami participate in battles (where she fuckin rocks at it bc she's been literally trained for war), all while Tami searches for more info on Grizzco, but unfortunately nobody knows shit about it. Finally she happens across Cuttlefish and eventually falls into Alterna, where she has no idea what's going on until eventually wow Mr. Grizz is there. She fucking kills him and then just kinda leaves without really joining the squidbeak splatoon she just wanted to kill Mr grizz. Anyways then she and Tide probably go back to salmonid or something I haven't really figure this out. Sorry for the text wall

[hadesdancehall]

I also made this post on the BRC subreddit but unsure if it'll stay up there so I figured I'd also share here on the off chance it gets taken. Just had thoughts about the visual symbolism with Faux and Felix that I needed to get out of my system.

Spoilers ahead for Chapter 5 and BRC endgame!

When I was going into the final boss fight, my best friend had wanted to be on voice call because there was a particular shot after the fight that she really wanted me to see: the one where Solace became Felix's "one wing".

Considering Felix going solo catalyzed the contention between him and Faux, the way Felix's "I only need one wing" mentality evolved between his first All City to the end of BRC's narrative is one of the things that really struck me with this shot. Felix's one wing was initially something borne from his decision to break away from the Big 3 in order to go solo — relying on his own merits in order to reach the pinnacle of the streets. It's never explicitly said if he really thought of Faux as a burden ("Felix... you never wanted us to be a crew and why would you? You gained so much from dropping me.") but from Felix's perspective, there were "no hard feelings" which implies that there was no actual resentment on his side. DJ also certainly didn't seem to really care either way. But ultimately the choice to be on his own with his one wing is the thing that led to his death, since Faux took it hard enough that he... y'know...

But with this?

[ID: Felix with one of Solace's wings showing up behind him]

Sure, it's just Solace. But Solace represents more than just himself — Solace represents BRC, all of them. The entire narrative follows Felix as Red, back at the bottom of the rung with Tryce and Bel, as the three of them work to the top. As Red, he still had inclinations towards handling his whole "retrieving his head and finding out his roots" situation on his own. But it was through Tryce and Bel's insistence that they stick together and their constant support and care that overcomes those inclinations. As Red, he intentionally chose and was able to reach the pinnacle with other people, with a crew — something that old Felix thought wasn't possible even when Faux, one of the best of his contemporaries, had offered it.

I think about this shot a lot ever since I saw it in-game. But then I came across another one as I was watching another person's playthrough with the same friend:

[ID: Faux's introduction in Chapter 1 at the New Amsterdam Police Bureau, with the outer ring of the Police Bureau's logo prominent behind his head]

The above shot caught me so off guard because it truly is a "blink and you miss it" kind of moment since Faux zooms in from this particular shot pretty quickly. But the New Amsterdam Police Bureau logo makes a flipping halo behind him. Along with the alias, this could potentially be its own foreshadowing to Faux's real nature: that he's not who he seems to be, that he's your foe, but that he's also deified himself in his own head and eventually deified through Project Algo where he assumes control of the police force.

(And since Solace is sometimes called by other characters as an "angel boy" or Felix's "angel fan", you can potentially get some lovely interpretations stemming from religious iconography, but that's something for another day if not coming from another person entirely.)

Am I reading too much into this? Most definitely. But while the actual plot of BRC isn't revolutionary, a lot of the things that make it enjoyable for me is filling it in with things like this in order to enrich the world and the story more. So I figured I'd also share the joy that came with these random thoughts with others — and if you've made it to the end, thanks for reading!

[dastardly-imbecile]

And He Came Down Upon Wings of Snow

Part four of 'written for a friend'. 1, 2, 3.

You’re sure that something is watching you. More than sure, actually—it’s not anything so small as a hunch or a feeling. No, it’s a bone-deep fear. This is what the antelope feels when it sees the flickering cheetah in the grass, this is that swooping feeling in your stomach when you trip while holding something valuable. Impending doom coming from above like some hawk on wide wings against a small, shivering rabbit.

And the worst part is: you know that you cannot do a single thing about it. --- In which there is a you, a presence, and an angel.

---

Wordcount: 1823

This has literally nothing to do with the outer Mandela Catalogue universe—only Gabriel.

TW: Vague allusion to suicide? It's one line near the end, and not stated outright.

You’re sure that something is watching you. More than sure, actually—it’s not anything so small as a hunch or a feeling. No, it’s a bone-deep fear. This is what the antelope feels when it sees the flickering cheetah in the grass, this is that swooping feeling in your stomach when you trip while holding something valuable. Impending doom coming from above like some hawk on wide wings against a small, shivering rabbit. 

And the worst part is: you know that you cannot do a single thing about it. 

Running won’t help. You’re sitting on the edge of your bed at the moment, and the silence makes the presence ever stronger, but it follows. Followed you on the road, to your friends’ house, to work. You’ve tried to lose it, dove into crowds of people, taken winding roads at breakneck speed. Nothing helps. It’s almost like this creature is perched upon your shoulder, hands clenched on your head, and wherever you go, it’s attached as a parasite. Some twisted version of a guardian angel—always following, never benevolent. 

You’ve tried fighting it—swiping the air around your body with knives, searching for invisible foes with their gleaming tips. Used your hands when those didn’t work—perhaps bare flesh would reveal something that cold metal could not. 

Nothing. 

And, eventually, you tried to speak to it. Threats, pleads, sugary-sweet flattering. This, maybe, has had the most tangible effect. Tangible in that once, after you broke into tears, you felt the cold brush of wind. Not something remarkable but for the fact that you were standing in your windowless bathroom. 

Caressing across your cheek, lingering under your chin. Soft.

It did nothing but bring a fresh wave of tears. 

***

Lately, it’s been appearing in the corners of your vision. Flickering away as you turn your head, there once and gone again. 

It’s been so long that the violation is almost commonplace now. Still the feeling of being stalked, the feeling that something could grab you—grab you, skin you, break your bones into shards—but it’s nearly an empty threat. You’ve taken to narrating your actions aloud to it, treating it like some vaguely-annoying imaginary friend. Now, I’m going to go cook dinner. I don’t suppose you want a serving. Or, Sometimes, I wish you’d just do it. I’m bound to die of high blood pressure at this point. 

But this? This is new. 

Something white. So white that it may even be glowing, but the glimpses are too spare to tell. There’s the vague impression of something that flows, that swings in the air—fabric. Robes or scarves of dresses, the actual nature of it is a mystery. Every time it flashes, your head still jolts instinctively. 

The habit of talking has once again nestled back into a cranny of your mind. Until you can ascertain that this isn’t a sign of immediate death, you’re too wary to be so blasé about it again. The fact that an incorporeal force, harmlessly frightening at most, has graduated to being physical scares you. 

And maybe it likes that. 

***

More flashes. Slower, too. They’re definitely some sort of dress or robes, you’re sure, stark white. Not glowing—or at least not glowing any more than a freshly fallen sheet of snow does. Any luminescence that it holds can be attributed to the sheen of sunlight being reflected back again. 

There’s a larger presence behind those robes too. These are blinding, and if the robes are the snow, then this is the sun. You can make out the vague shape of something large and looming, angular shapes and folds upon folds, layered into stacks of dozens. 

It’s come to become a pattern, written out into three events. Every time you feel like you’re safe, like the advancements have finally stopped, it starts again. And the starting kicks out a new tsunami of fear. 

You hope that now you’ve come to anticipate it, it won’t be able to sneak up on you again. 

It’s a cruel, false hope. 

***

Maybe you’re insane. Are you insane? You scheduled a doctor’s appointment two days ago and told them that you were seeing things, feeling things. Desperately, you wished for it to be some rendering of schizophrenia, some odd amalgamation of hormones and chemicals and the folds of your brain. 

The doctor was an old, kind man. He smiled at you when you entered and tried to make jokes, make you comfortable. He could probably feel the tautness in your arms, hear the soft heaves of your breath. 

You didn’t hear too many of those jokes. No, your eyes were locked on the cut of his long, white coat. Stiff and starched, the hospital’s logo emblazoned over his chest—but it hung low and glowed pale in the fluorescent lights and it brought your heart to a pounding rhythm. 

In the end, he patted you on the back and told you to get more sleep, drink more water. Was there anything stressful happening at work; in your home life? You were a healthy young thing, nothing wrong internally, so perhaps try to deal with your external problems first. 

External problems. If only. 

Not an hour later, you were stepping into the small shop. Curtains hung heavy over the windows, casting the room into darkness. Beads clattered against each other as you pushed the door open, feet sinking into plush carpets. 

From the hospital to the psychic. The wonders of the modern world. 

The woman who greeted you wasn’t dressed in white, but around her neck hung a cross necklace. An odd choice for someone that churches might denounce—but you were in no place to judge. 

You weren’t judging, either. Just staring. The cross—so small, so delicate. Something about it sent shivers of familiarity running through you—you knew crosses, knew crosses more than you’d ever known anything before. 

The unfortunate side effect of this was that she believed you were quite ardently drawn in by her cleavage—perhaps why she treated you so coldly throughout the meeting. No crystal balls or tea leaves. No, she simply told you to close your eyes and let your mind float away while she ran gentle fingers over your head, shoulders, back. 

You’re stressed, she’d told you, and you had to bite back a no shit Sherlock. The doctor had told you just about as much and you weren’t at this backalley shop for anything that doctors could do. 

Something large hangs around you. The weight of something from your past. You need to bare yourself to it. Stop running. 

You’re unsure if she actually did anything beyond spout off fortune-cookie lyrics, but perhaps there’s some sort of merit in it. 

***

Nighttime. Your dreams from the past few nights have been painted in eyes and smiles—bad smiles, stretched smiles. A mashup of the Cheshire Cat and Jack the Ripper, with a dash of Cthulhu mixed in. Enough to make you descend into smushing pop culture references together. 

Most everything else from the dreams escapes you, but you wake in tangled sheets nevertheless. Perhaps it’s best that you don’t know. You turn the thermostat up, but the house is cold. When you lay on the bed and contemplate your latest nightmare, heart still beating jackrabbit quick, it brings gooseflesh rising onto your skin. 

Meditation. The best approximation of what the medium told you, but nothing. Truth be told, you’re often too distracted. When your eyes close, impossible colors swirl behind them, and you can almost feel cold breath on your neck. 

Tonight, though. On your bed for the lack of a better place to sit. It’s the culmination of a week of sleepless nights, a month of vague hallucinations, six of that everpresent fear. It’s do this or find some other way to end it, and the other way might be a fair bit more brutal. 

Deep breaths. 

In. 

Out. 

In. 

Out. 

The temperature is dropping. Down, down, down. 

***

How much time has it been?

How long, sitting like this?

Something is watching. 

Waiting. 

Eyes. Mouth. Teeth. 

Robes. Wings. Hair. 

Skin. Blood. Bone. 

And then, it all comes together. 

***

It coalesces from the darkness and from the spare images in your mind—as if it pulls straight from those recollections of robes, those dreams of teeth, drawing them out like a tailor draws thread through cloth. 

A man. Tall. Long strands of blonde hair hanging curled around his face. And that face—angular, sharp feathers, cheeks sunken, eyes dark. Wings stretch behind him and they do not care for the bounds of your house. No longer do they glow, for they are dark as shadows. 

Not a man. 

An angel. 

His lips are curled into some sort of smile. Mouth not open. Good. You aren’t quite ready to see his teeth. 

“So you come,” he tells you, “you call.”

A quiet voice. Slightly raspy. Not the high soprano of an angelic chorus, but then, he isn’t too angelic himself. 

“Why?” Is all you can ask. 

“Little lamb,” he tells you, voice deepening. A pale hand reaches from the depths of his robe. His fingers settle under your chin, thumb brushing gently against your cheekbone, and he tilts your head up to look at him. “So scared. I can hear your heart. Feel your blood.”

“Am I?” You breathe.

He nods once. Still smiling. “Be not afraid, for your shepherd has arisen, and he shall guide you to the promised land.”

Everything is darkening. Where is your house? Where is your bed? Memories of the life past flicker through your mind. Your work- oh, you realize, you haven’t been going in lately. Haven’t even left the house since that visit to the psychic’s. 

What would she say now? What would that doctor? Your thoughts drift. 

They’re brought back by a sharp jerk of your head. He’s leaning closer now, no longer smiling, brows creased. 

“Do not stray from your path. I will have none of your puny, mortal past.”

“I’m… sorry,” you manage. “I won’t… I-”

“Do not worry.”

All at once, he is beatific again. His wings have taken on a soft glow, flickering faintly like candlelight. His eyes are black, but the shapes of his face are so beautiful that you cannot care. 

He moves the arm that doesn’t hold you still, drawing it out to his side. An invitation to embrace. 

“Come, little lamb. Eden awaits.”

You rise stiffly. It’s so, very cold, and he is warm and he is light and if the corners of his smile stretch a bit too wide, then you can avert your eyes. He seems to like the action—the sign of deference. 

In a swift movement, you’re bundled into his embrace. He is glowing, but his skin is no warmer than the surroundings. His head tilts to look down at you. White teeth glint down at you—teeth so bright, so long, pearls in the snow.

Eden. Paradise. 

Arm still around you, wings curled up behind your backs, he leads you into the dark. 

[ardentkurashk]

For the 30 questions for the your Tav ask meme!

4 (We know about the first part, but I'm especially interested in the second), 9, 24 and 29 :) A good day to you btw, hope you've been well.

Hiiii! I'm good thank you, Barnabas! Hope you're doing okay too. <3 4. What hobbies does your Tav have? How did they acquire these interests? So, there is a bit of story to this, so forgive he waffle. After Ka'zalii left his creche, he traveled from place to place in the astral, pretty lost as to what to do with himself. Avoiding kin out of a bit of paranoia that he might be being hunted. (He wasn't, but he couldn't know that.) He ended up on a tiny moon orbiting a gas giant that operated as a bit of a pirate/outlaw hang out. Think Tortuga. He meets a Thri-keen there, Tal-ik. She's a 'former' pirate, still dabbles in it occasionally. She sees this lost looking teenage githyanki and takes him under her wing. (Mandibles?) Teaches him how crewing a spelljammer works, gives him a relatively safe place to stay and most relevant to this question, introduces him to the art of cooking. It becomes a bit of a focus, something to relax and he ends up genuinely enjoying the whole process. His memory is insane so he remembers every recipe he reads. He's now very passionate about good food and will talk you to death about it. Or argue you with you if you have poor food opinions. His bead crafting started when he was a child. An incident during a fun expedition down to the planet his creche orbited (he was 12) usual fight to the death between clutchmates. A spell missed him, hit a rock nearby which exploded into shards of glass, hitting them both. Killed his clutchmate and he got several shards embedded in his side and leg. The first bead he made, which he still has in his hair, was from one of those shards. Symbol of survival that he kind of clung to and his bead collection evolved from there. 9. What was your Tav doing when they were taken by the mind flayers? Ka'zalii was doing a bit of spy work for the Sha'sal Khou. He'd been sent to Stardock to check on the githzerai hiding in the tunnels, they hadn't been heard from in a while. And with Urlon being so undercover, it wasn't as if they could just walk in and ask. It was him and two others, only he was taken by sheer bad luck more than anything else. He never did find out where the githzerai had gone before he got abducted. It wasn't until after the netherbrain was dead that his kin found out he was alive. 24. What first impression does your Tav give off to strangers? He's a beanpole of an alien. 6'1" so a bit intimidating in that respect for some. He also has a bit of a stern resting expression a lot of the time. He's just thinking about shit, but if he looks like he's staring at you, kind of offputting. Always armed, rarely out of armour. When speaking common he's pretty abrupt sounding too, not intentionally but it can come across as sharp. Super blunt sometimes. Speaking tir, it's a different story. He's much more likely to elaborate on things and be a bit more animated when he talks. He's getting there with common, he just finds it a bit of an annoying language. 29. What advice would you give to your Tav? TALK to people. Work through your trauma, stop ignoring it godddd, listen to your friends. Also, hey maybe don't hinge your future on one guy. Doesn't matter how cool a warlord might be, things could go wrong and then you'll be dead. Stop picking that scab.

He will ignore all of this.

[imperiuswrecked]

(Speaking of that fanart of Namor by Alex Ross w/women all over him) Is Namor into orgies? .... Esp w/him as the only guy? I thought he drank respect women juice? ???? Is this a dudebro fantasy projection on him or actually ic of him?

"Your arrogance sickens me, Beekeeper. Only Namor has the ability to make the earth move. And he reserves that privilege for one woman at a time. Unless they have experimental friends."

Uncanny X-Men (1963) 534.1

Uncanny X-Men (2012) #1

You didn't, you didn't really imperius sex her!

A mere gentleman does not tell. A king is far more discreet.

Ick. Ick. Ick.

You are only showing your parochialism and prejudice. There are many forms of beauty. She is a dignified queen of a noble people. Namor is nothing if not cosmopolitan in his tastes.

Uncanny X-Men (2012) #8

Those are some examples of Namor's thoughts + sex. There's others in the comics.

Is Namor into orgies?

Yes. He's also polyamorous if he's in an open relationship(s).

Especially with him as the only guy?

This is Marvel, I'd have a higher chance of sprouting wings from my ankles than getting Marvel to admit Namor is bi/pansexual. All we get is canceled queer storylines or heavily veiled hints that Namor isn't 100% straight. Examples of which I've listed before on my blogs.

I thought he drank respect women juice? Is this a dude bro fantasy projection on him or actually in character of him?

Yes, he drinks respect women juice. He doesn't like when others hurt or talk down to women. He isn't misogynistic however he is written by men. Most male writers are misogynistic. Sometimes that comes through in certain writing. We cannot separate that fact from character interpretation.

Just because Namor enjoys orgies or has a very casual sex life doesn't mean he looks down on or hates women or just uses them. Out of over 80 years of writing, he's been in a total of 3 serious long-term relationships with women (married twice, widowed twice) and 2 short-term romances. He's had a few flings. Namor is pretty monogamous in comparison to other comic characters. So while there could be some projection, (and there certainly is a lot of projection when it comes to the NamorSue ship) I personally find it in character for Namor to enjoy sex and pleasure. Just because he isn't ashamed of his whorish ways doesn't mean he's a womanizer.

Another thing to consider is that Namor's character flaws of arrogance, ego, and machoism doesn't mean he's a misogynist. Terms he uses sometimes like, woman, female, wench is imo mainly due to the fact he's Archaic or that Marvel sets Atlantis in type of old fantasy so that's terms they use. Wench being associated with sea/sailors as well.

I've always said that if a writer has Namor being misogynistic to women then they've failed to understand the character.

Maybe when I have time I can break down more about Namor's supporting cast, the women in his world, and how he is written across various decades.

[cacchieressa]

Eight Days in April

1. I broke a glass, got bloodstains on the sheet: hereafter, must I only write you chaste connubial poems? Now that I have traced a way from there to here across the sweet- est morning, rose-blushed blonde, will measured feet advance processionally, where before they scuff-heeled flights of stairs, kicked at a door, or danced in wing-tips to a dirty beat? Or do I tell the world that I have got rich quick, got lucky (got laid), got just what the doctor ordered, more than I deserved? This is the second morning I woke curved around your dreaming. In one night, I've seen moonset and sunrise in your lion's mane.

2. Moons set and suns rise in your lion's mane through LP kisses or spread on my thighs. Winter subsided while I fantasized what April dawns frame in the windowpane. Sweetheart, I'm still not getting enough sleep, but I'm not tired, and outside it's spring in which we sprang the afternoon shopping after I'd been inside you, O so deep I thought we would be tangled at the roots. I think we are. (I've never made such noise. I've never come so hard, or come so far in such a short time.) You're an exemplar piss-elegance is not reserved for boys. Tonight we'll go out in our gangster suits.

3. Last night we went out in our gangster suits, but just across the street to Santerello's, waited past nine for wine. We shone; the fellows noticed. "You have a splendid linen coat," Dimitri told you as he sat us down. (This used to be my local; now it's chic.) A restaurant table's like a bed: we speak the way we do calmed after love, alone in the dark. There's a lot to get to know. We felt bad; we felt better. Soon I was laid back enough to drink around the bend. You got me home, to bed, like an old friend. I like you, Rachel, when you're scared, because you tough it out while you're feeling it through.

4. You tough it out while you're feeling it through: sometimes the bed's rocked over tidal waves that aren't our pleasures. Everyone behaves a little strangely when they're in a new neighborhood, language, continent, time zone. We got here fast; your jet lag's worse than mine. I only had Paris to leave behind. You left your whole young history. My own reminds me to remind you, waking shaken with tears, dream-racked, is standard for the course. We need accommodation that allows each one some storage space for her dead horse. If the title weren't already taken, I'd call this poem "Directions to My House."

5. I'd call this poem "Directions to My House," except today I'm writing it in yours, in your paisley PJ's. The skylight pours pale sunlight on white blankets. While I douse my brain with coffee, you sleep on. Dream well this time. We'll have three sets of keys apiece: uptown, downtown, Paris on a sublease. Teach me to drive. (Could I teach you to spell?) I think the world's our house. I think I built and furnished mine with space for you to move through it, with me, alone in rooms, in love with our work. I moved into one mansion the morning when I touched, I saw, I felt your face blazing above me like a sun.

6. Your face blazing above me like a sun- deity, framed in red-gold flames, gynandre in the travail of pleasure, urgent, tender terrible—my epithalamion circles that luminous intaglio —and you under me as I take you there, and you opening me in your mouth where the waves inevitably overflow restraint. No, no, that isn't the whole thing (also you drive like cop shows, and you sing gravel and gold, are street-smart, book-smart, laugh from your gut) but it is (a soothing poultice applied to my afflicted part) the central nervous system and the heart

7. The central nervous system and the heart, and whatever it is in me wakes me at 5 am regardless, and what takes me (when you do) ineluctably apart and puts me back together; the too-smart, too-clumsy kid glutted on chocolate cakes (me at ten); the left-brain righteousness that makes me make of our doubled dailiness an art are in your capable square hands. O sweet, possessives make me antsy: we are free to choose each other perpetually. Though I don't think my French short-back-and-sides means I'll be the most orthodox of brides, I broke a glass, got bloodstains on the sheet.

— Marilyn Hacker from Love, Death, and the Changing of the Seasons

[wouldyoustilllovemeifiwasawyrm]

Listen Up, Junior Reporters!

Linktober 2023

Day 3: Friend/Helper/Companion

Now that peace has been restored to Hyrule once again, Link calls on his old partner for a little favor. Penn flies in to teach the kids of Hateno about the exciting life of a Rito journalist! The kids do a little journalism of their own, digging into the unsung stories of Hateno's residents.

Coloring wax and old books filled the small schoolhouse with their comforting scents. Symin marked the board, the chalk squeaking only slightly as he wrote out the day’s lesson. Books and papers shuffled about as Zelda straightened out the bookshelf, reorganizing what the children had scattered during the evening. Though they tried their best to clean up at the end of the day, the children were always welcome to borrow and read books after hours – sometimes, they even remembered to put the books back where they belonged.

Sunlight illuminated the dust motes that floated in front of the schoolhouse window. Link slid the panes up, letting in the crisp spring breeze, a crosswind flowing from the open double doors. The children would be here any minute. All the activity in such a small space often brought the temperature above Zelda’s comfort. Rather than wait for her to sweat and ask him to open the window, he thought it more efficient to get ahead of the task these last few days. As she didn’t have to ask recently, even despite the warming season, he would continue this method.

A shadow approached from the west, a speck in the sky getting closer, flapping large wings. Link shaded his eyes, peering out at the blue sky. When he recognized the figure, a broad grin grew across his features.

“Penn’s on his way.” Link announced.

Zelda joined him at the window. “Right on schedule. He’s a true professional.”

“All the better,” Symin remarked, shuffling a stack of papers so they all lined up together. “Perhaps that will inspire some of our students.”

Small footsteps raced down the road toward them, the wooden steps up to the schoolhouse creaking as the first student arrived, a little out of breath.

“Good morning, Professor Symin, Ms. Zelda, Mr. Link. Is the Rito here yet?” Sefaro asked, his cheeks red with exercise. “I ran all the way here just to see him fly!”

Zelda stepped away from the window, gesturing for Sefaro to follow her outside. “I’ll point him out, and then you can watch him come in.”

Sefaro’s eyes and smile widened all the more, practically hopping after Zelda to watch the incoming guest. “I’ve never seen a real Rito!” He exclaimed, quick on Zelda’s heels. “Are they really just like birds but bigger?”

“I’ll let you decide that.” Zelda mused, pointing out the incoming shadow. “They’re people like you and I. But while Hylians have hair and teeth, Rito have feathers and beaks.”

Link leaned against the doorpost, watching as more children ran up the road, flocking around Zelda like curious little birds themselves.

“Is that really him?” Aster asked, standing on her toes and shading her eyes. “He’s a really big bird!”

“Rito tend to be taller than Hylians,” Zelda explained.

Karin waved at the incoming journalist, a bright smile on her face. “He’s almost here! A real-life Rito! Can I pet him?”

“Ah, only if you ask his permission and he says yes, Karin. He’s not a pet cucco,” Zelda reminded her.

The shadow brightened into white feathers, Penn’s form descending from the sky in a whoosh of air that delighted the children, who stared up at him in awe. The Rito journalist pushed his flight goggles to his forehead. “Good morning, junior reporters!”

A delighted cacophony of “Good morning!” soon followed.

“Good morning, Penn.” Zelda greeted, holding out her hand toward Penn. “Thank you so much for agreeing to teach us about the newspaper business today.”

Penn eagerly shook the princess’s hand. “It’s my pleasure, Your Highness! Thank you for letting me write a story about your school! The Gazette has wanted to do an article on your program for some time. Besides, I’m more than happy to help out my old partner.” Penn nodded toward Link, who returned the gesture.

“Mr. Penn!” Karin bounced on her heels, her eyes sparkling. “Can I touch your feathers?”

Penn blinked, startled for a moment by the question. “Er, sure, I guess?” Penn outstretched his wing toward the children, who all started running their fingers over his long feathers, exclaiming to each other that they’d never seen feathers so big.

“Can you fly faster than a horse?” Azu asked.

“Of course he can, Azu.” Sefaro laughed. “Horses can’t fly!”

Penn slowly withdrew his wing, trying to subtly reconnect the hooks that the children had inadvertently loosed. “Rito can fly pretty fast, it’s true. But we don’t run very fast like you Hylians do.” He looked to Zelda. “So, how do you want me to start?”

“Well, I thought you could begin by telling us a bit about what you do as a reporter,” Zelda suggested, starting to herd the children inside the school.

Penn quickly followed her inside, ducking his head as he passed through the low entrance. Not that Link ever thought the doorway low. He briefly wondered if Sidon could fit at all inside the school. That would make a possible lesson from the Zora king a bit difficult.

The children took their seats, eager to listen to the feathered stranger. Aster kicked her legs back and forth, leaning forward in her chair and watching Penn’s taloned feet with great interest.

Penn stood up in front of the class, glancing at the lesson that Symin had written on the board. Unlike most days, this lesson plan had to be kept fairly skeletal, as they hadn’t coordinated with Penn on exactly what he intended to say. They’d blocked out the morning for an explanation on the newspaper, the lunch hour for a project out of the classroom, and the afternoon for the presentation of those projects. Link advocated strongly to Zelda for Penn’s invitation to speak to the kids – he only hoped now that Penn could deliver.

The tall Rito cleared his throat. “I guess I should start by saying that I’m one of several reporters who work for the Lucky Clover Gazette. Our print shop is up near Rito Village in what used to be a stable. When reporters like me write up stories, we take them to Traysi, who prints them using a moveable key press. We then hang up those papers to dry. They then get distributed out through the stable system, where they wind up in the hands of our readers all over Hyrule.” He paused when one of the kids raised their hands. “Yes, miss?”

“Karin!” The girl beamed. “What’s a moveable key press?”

Penn tilted his head, thinking of how best to describe it. “Well, it’s a bit like… Hm.” He looked toward the princess. “It’s like a bunch of tiny stamps. We have lots and lots of tiny stamps. Some have letters, some numbers, some punctuation. When I write an article, Traysi will lay out the stamps so that they copy my article letter by letter. She then puts ink on those stamps and smooshes them onto a piece of paper.” He mimes this by pressing his wings flat together. “When she lifts the stamps off, the ink they leave on the paper is the article!”

Sefaro’s hand flew up. “What about the pictures? Do you have to draw those on every paper?”

Penn shook his head. “Nope. We’ve got a guy who carves the pictures into big stamps for us. We don’t use him all the time because it takes a long time for him to make those picture stamps. A lot of the time, we’ll re-use pictures. If we’re running an article on Hudson Construction, we’ll use the picture of Hudson that we had made a couple months ago, for instance.”

Another hand – Azu’s this time. “How long does it take?”

“Er, which part?” Penn asked, tilting his head.

“All of it!” Azu spread his arms out. “I remember when Mr. Link said he had to go to the castle to see Ms. Zelda, and then a whole month later, we saw a paper about the Demon King!”

Link stiffened. Though he tried to put the events of the Upheaval behind him, that memory in particular refused to be forgotten. A puppet still danced in his nightmares. Zelda’s hand, real, warm, and firm, rested on his shoulder.

“So that depends. If it’s a simple story, it can take me a day or two to write it.” Penn began. “But if it’s more complicated, like that one was, I have to interview a lot of people to make sure I’ve got all the facts right. Those interviews and investigations can take a week or more. I flew around Hyrule Castle myself when I investigated the Demon King story. When I collect all my facts, I write up my article and send it to Traysi for editing and publishing. She usually takes another day or two before she starts printing. Putting the letters in place takes the longest. We print a test paper and check it for errors. If everything is good, we print all our copies and hang them up on these long ropes that criss-cross the ceiling of our office. By the time we finish filling up the ropes, the first one we hung up is dry. We might do them in batches of two or three, depending on how well we think that issue will sell.” He tapped his feathers against his chin (beak?) in thought. “The most I’ve seen us print at once was five hundred. That was right after the princess came back.”

Such a quantity evidently pleased the children, given the wonder on their faces.

“Penn,” Zelda interjected. “You mentioned fact-finding. How important are the facts to your profession?”

The Rito stood somehow even taller. “Extremely important! We pride ourselves on only reporting what we believe to be the truth. We like to get our information directly from the source, no matter the obstacles. Why, when Link and I were partners, we were always out investigating new and exciting leads! We’d hear strange rumors about cuccos that could tell fortunes, strange spirits living in wells, mysterious sightings of, well, you, Your Highness. Before we printed even a word of these strange happenings, we had to make sure the leads were legitimate.” Penn sighed. “Sadly, most were not. Almost everything had a very mundane explanation. Though a surprising number of them were Yiga traps. Which, looking back, makes more sense now that I know you’re the legendary swordsman.”

Link shrugged. While never surprised to be ambushed by the Yiga, at least it made for interesting material for Hyrule to read about.

“Mr. Penn, we’d like to have our students participate in the journalism process by having them go out and interview people around Hateno,” Symin said. “What would you suggest they ask if their goal is to write a biographical article?”

Penn’s eyes lit up. “An excellent question! Alright, listen up, junior reporters!”

~~

Karin presented her article first, the crumbs of Prima’s fresh bread still stuck to her cheeks. As she read off her interview with the innkeeper, Link bit his tongue to keep from laughing. She’d managed to get the story of the innkeeper’s life and business fairly well, starting with her inheriting the business from her father, marrying a traveler who never seemed to actually travel anywhere, and a bizarre incident where a young man let loose a hundred restless crickets in her lobby. Link deliberately avoided Zelda’s pointed look at him following this revelation. But interwoven into the story of Prima’s life were persistent questions about the best sweets. Her strategy must have been effective, as Karin had half a scone’s worth of crumbs on her tunic.

Sefaro managed to interview the only man in town even stranger than his father: Robbie. The boy’s hair was slightly singed at the tips. Zelda whispered under her breath that she would have a discussion with the researcher later about what technology was and wasn’t appropriate to demonstrate to kids. The boy immediately launched into an account of Robbie’s early life as a palace researcher, working with Purah on the Guardians when they were first unearthed. Link had never thought to ask Robbie what it was like in the old palace, though based on Zelda’s expressions, his stories were spot-on. The more Sefaro relayed, the more the children leaned in, completely enraptured. Explosions, knights, Guardians, kings, dubious science, and alchemy! Link hoped Robbie was prepared for the eventual flood of children who would soon demand to hear the tales for themselves. “But Robbie said his greatest accomplishment was teaching his son Granté to be an independent thinker.” Sefaro squinted at his own handwriting. “He says, ‘I was so successful in this task that my son hasn’t spoken to me in years.’” The applause following the conclusion of this article was a little less than enthusiastic.

Surprising no one, Azu interviewed his father. Pruce, it seems, was not always a shopkeeper. In his youth, he’d traveled Hyrule as a mercenary, fighting monsters and keeping safe whatever caravan of goods paid him that week. He only gave up that lucrative life when a run-in with a lynel left him with a permanent limp. As thanks for his heroism in saving the caravan, his employer promised him exclusive rights to their goods “wherever the east wind carried him.” That east wind carried him home to Hateno, where he settled down and opened the general goods shop. From his years on the road, Pruce had gained an unusual proficiency in crafting his own arrows, nearly two dozen of which waited in Link’s quiver back at the house. As Azu finished up his story, he grinned. “And most importantly, he’s the best dad ever!”

The final article took Aster up the hill to the farm. Or rather, to the back of the farm. Aster relayed how she mostly just wanted to sneak a piece of cheese, but had gotten caught and then pretended like she was there to interview Koyin. The story began with Koyin’s great-grandfather, a traveling merchant before the Great Calamity. On one journey to Kara Kara Bazaar, he sold milk to a Gerudo guard. That guard later came to him with a startling discovery: when she stored the milk in her seal-stomach drinking pouch, the milk had turned into something quite different under the burning Gerudo heat. The solids from the milk had coagulated in the pouch, creating what Hylians now called curds. Koyin’s great-grandfather experimented with this process on his trips to the Gerudo desert, finally uncovering the secret to cheesemaking. He wrote it all down in a letter to his daughter, promising that the invention would save the failing farm. But when the Calamity broke out, the letter was lost along the way. Her great-grandfather died before he could make his way back to Hateno. The letter was later rediscovered by the Gerudo, who honored the wishes of their friend by sending it to Koyin’s parents. Koyin, having grown up reading all the letters and journals that her great-grandfather left behind, immediately understood the significance of this final letter. “And that’s how cheese was invented!” Aster exclaimed, finishing her article with a nod. She handed her article to Zelda, who added it to her small stack.

Zelda marked this final paper with a red pen, smiling. “Thank you all very much for your wonderful articles! And thank you, Penn, for teaching our students about your profession. Maybe they’ll all want to be reporters someday!”

Penn grinned broadly. “It was my pleasure, Your Highness. And, if you don’t mind me asking, could I take those articles with me? Your students did such an amazing job at investigating that I would like to ask Traysi to include these articles in our next addition.”

Sefaro gasped. “You mean what we wrote will be read by all of Hyrule?!”

“Only if you want it to be.” Penn clarified.

“I do!”

“Me too!”

“Sounds fun!”

With a smile, Zelda handed the stack of papers to Penn, who placed them securely in his satchel. “I do hope you’ll send us a copy when you print them.”

Penn nodded. “I can see the headline now!” He raised his wing up, as if spelling out the letters in the air above him. “Hateno School Creates Educational Success: The rise of four junior reporters!”

The children giggled, delighted by Penn’s praise of their work.

“That sounds perfect, Penn.” Zelda agreed. “I do hope we’ll have occasion to work together again.”

“I should think so, Princess. Just mentioning your name sends our sales up tenfold.” Penn joked. “Thanks again, guys! Soar long!” With a salute, Penn took off, soaring into the air and back toward the west.

As the children waved and shouted their goodbyes to their new friend, Link felt Zelda’s hand quietly slip into his.

“You know,” She hummed, resting her head against his shoulder. “I think, in another life, I would have liked just reading the newspaper with you, rather than being in it.”

Link kissed her forehead, careful that the children were still distracted with their goodbyes (he’d had one too many ‘cooties’ accusations to make that mistake again). “In another life, maybe we will.”

[jolliestlolli]

Rimworld Deserters: Day 1 - Day 3

May I introduce you to: Our three starting soldiers.

The Fallen Empire has begun its colonization of a large chunk of the Rimworld known as Porrima Tertiary. Many of the factions that once called this planet home have either been exterminated by the Empire or forced to move on to distant worlds, while those who remain try in vein to reclaim their turf. Amidst this turmoil emerges a shining star of hope for the people of this world, a faction of former soldiers, medics, and civilians who have pledged to their dying breath to eliminate the Imperial parasite spreading across the cosmos.

Unfortunately their efforts have grown more difficult in recent years. The Empire's awareness of the threat they pose has led to countless bloodshed and hardship, causing the faction to splinter and spread across the globe in the hopes that they can lay low long enough to regroup and continue the fight. This is where our story begins:

Elliot De Covas - 27 Years Old: At a young age Elliot was forcibly drafted into an Imperial Youth Training Program. The lack of personal choice made him drag his feet at every opportunity, but the freetime he garnered from refusing to participate helped out his social skills and made him into a natural leader, albeit with a big of a swollen ego. In his early adulthood he made the brave decision to desert the Imperial army and join the up and coming resistance group known as The Wings of The Free Bird.

Zachary "Zach" Mclean - 36 Years Old: Zach was born a sickly child and spent most of his youth safely quarantined in the hospital, where he learned many things about the world of science and medicine, although none of it actually interested him that much. Being stuck in that hospital alone for so much of his youth gave him a few loose screws, but nonetheless he was excited for the day when he received his Bionic Heart and was able to build up his strength like he never could before. Unfortunately this led to him being drafted as one of the Empire's Shipcrackers, where he would break through the hulls of enemy ships and slaughter the entire crew singlehandedly. The stress led him to a bit of a drug problem, which eventually led him to also desert the Empire when the opportunity arose.

Lars Mechtenberg - Age 34 biologically, chronologically he's 134: Lars was a normal kid living in the Empire when he found a secret door in his grandfather's antique shop. No one is really sure what happened next, or if anything happened at all, all that is known is that around 100 years later Lars was found inside of a Cryptosleep Casket with no memory of what exactly he went through. Almost immediately after being pulled out of the casket, Lars was instructed in the art of medicine and forced to become an Infantry Medic. Just like the other two, he became dissatisfied with this life and deserted his position.

We spent day 1 not really doing much besides cleaning up the small outpost that would become our new HQ, and gathering some resources around the area. The only noteworthy thing that happened was it actually rained on the first day in an Arid Shrubland.

On day 2 we started working on a small water transport system and a bathroom cause, well, big boys gotta shit sometime. Elliot and Lars also had a small conversation it the breakfast table. Elliot's quickly making friends with the men who will eventually help him take back the planet (if they don't die in the process of course).

The bathroom came along nicely, just need to work on some plumbing and it'll be all set to use

On day 3 we finished up the plumbing so we can finally stop shitting outside and washing up in the water fountain.

(Ignore the dead cheetah)

Something I plan on doing real soon is breaking into THIS little wall right here and taking on whatever might be inside. With any luck we can recruit the guys in the Cryptosleep pods to our cause.

Something smaller I also did today was build a chess table to keep our guys from going mad with boredom. Or next plan is to build some hot water tanks so they don't have to take cold showers. Although why anyone would want a hot shower in the desert is beyond my understanding.

Also if someone can explain to me why I can't seem to get the Lars to plant anything in our hydroponics base I would be eternally grateful thank uuu