#this was extremely last moment but i hope you like it :))) happy birthday!! | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

thoughtfulfiction · 26 days ago

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Shift in the Routine II

Thank you so much for the love on part 1! Hope this one gives you all the feels. Joe requests are open!

masterlist

“Can you just…tell me exactly what happened?From the beginning.”

You sigh, running a hand over your face, thinking about the various ups and downs you’d been through emotionally the last few days. “There’s nothing new to tell, I told him I need to think about things and he was supportive of that. He really hurt me Rach, I can’t just—forget about it and move on.”

“I completely understand where you’re coming from. It’s just,” she pauses, trying to find the words. “What about—”

“The game on Monday night? Under no circumstances am I watching that,” you promise her, crossing your arms in protest of what was expected of you.

“Bengals defense missing a tackle? Likely place for them to be. This game is going to give me an ulcer.” You slammed your drink on the table, putting your head in your hands in hopes that they’d get a stop if you looked away for a bit.

Rachel watched silently, still trying to understand the rules of this football thing. She found you more entertaining than the game most of the time.

“Oh my god, how many times are we going to go for it on fourth and short and not convert?” This season had been full of trying moments, forcing you think back on the few times you snuck in to catch a peak of what Joe was seeing on film when these things would happen.

“FACEMASK?” You yell. “There’s no way in the world they just miss that? Hello? They’re literally trying to rip his head off, that should’ve been a first dow—wait,” you pause, standing up out of your seat for the first time in a few hours. “Is he…is he limping? He’s limping, right?”

Rachel sits up, joining in your concern but also slightly amused at the situation, considering the fact that you said you weren’t going to watch the game and the two of you had been glued to the tv before kickoff. “No matter how much you don’t want to admit it to anyone, including yourself, you still care about him. A lot.”

“I do care,” you swallowed, feeling like your heart was in your stomach at the thought of being in pain. That sleeve didn’t look like it was going to protect anything. “Maybe I care a little too much? Which is exactly why I’m in this predicament. Because let’s be real, on paper? We do not make sense. He doesn’t even flinch spending $3 million and I cry a little if I add too many things to my Amazon cart.”

Rachel laughs, tossing a few pieces of Chex mix into her mouth. “That’s because your job is stingy with raises. And with Joe? Just talk to him. Go see him tomorrow, give him his gift and go from there, see how you feel about everything.”

You admired her ability to put a positive spin on a situation that you felt was pretty much doomed. Maybe you could have one more day of happiness with him tomorrow before walking away for good. That may be your best bet, to just cut all communication and quit cold turkey. After his birthday of course. Dumping someone before their birthday just sounded really terrible and you’d spent a long time getting him this special present so there was no way you weren’t going to see the look on his face in person as he opened it.

The drive felt uncomfortably long. They had gotten a much needed win and he seemed happy enough postgame. But what if he didn’t want to see you? You’d been so focused inward on your feelings and what you needed to do that you really hadn’t had the time to even wonder what Joe’s thought process was. Just in case he wasn’t in the mood for company, you knocked on the door instead of letting yourself in.

Clad in a purple Nike hoodie you remembered borrowing a few times, there he stood in front of you with a blank look on his face.

Solid start.

“Why did you knock? You could’ve just come in.” His hair looks extra fluffy, like he woke up not too long ago, taking it extremely easy after coming home late and taking quite a few hits in last night’s game.

You pushed down the nerves, determined to make today neither awkward nor painful for all parties involved. “Happy birthday. I brought your favorite smoothie from Rune and…did a package come in this morning?”

He thanks you, grabbing the drink out of your hand and closing the door behind you. You can tell he’s moving gingerly. “Yeah I had them put it in the garage. So…are we still—”

“In relationship limbo? Definitely. But today is your day and I’m not a monster,” you joke as a smile forms on his face. And I wanted to see you for myself to make sure you weren’t going to lie. How’s your knee?”

Joe looks at you affectionately, almost visibly resisting the urge to reach out to you. His first instinct was always to give you a comforting squeeze or a gentle hand on your shoulder as a form of reassurance, he just wasn’t sure if that would be appropriate given the circumstances.“Careful, it almost sounded like you were worried about me for a second there.”

“I do not care about you. I care about my favorite football team’s starting quarterback and his well being for the rest of the season. That’s all. Don’t read too much into it.” You were lying through your teeth and both of you knew it.

He nods slightly, catching you looking at his leg or any sign of pain in his face if he so much as leaned over the counter. And if you still had a soft spot for him somewhere in there that was enough. “I feel ok. It’s sore but it’s Tuesday and the day after games is always touch and go. You know that.”

You quickly learned just how exhausting some postgame days were. His body bruised easily so sometimes he looked like he’d honestly been in a fight of some kind. And lost…badly. Moving around was slow and painful as if he were closer to being put in a retirement home than he was to playing another bruising game the next week. But the next day was usually back to normal and you were always in awe at his ability to bounce back. Having everything laid out in front of you like this made it easy to understand why he had such a strict schedule. Eating and sleeping and everything in between were catered to help him recover.

“Are you ready to open your gift?”

Joe sighs, stating that he doesn’t need more presents but you give him a look and he knows it’s best to just follow you to the garage. “I didn’t realize how big this is,” he notes, a hint of apprehension in his voice, “you really didn’t have to get me anything.”

He runs his fingers along the top of wrapping, deep in thought for a few seconds before you urge him to open it. Carefully peeling back the paper, Joe pulls back the layers to reveal a one of a kind Seinfeld painting.

“Before you say anything, look at the back,” you tell him when he looks at you like he’s about to open his mouth. On the back is a handwritten note from Jerry Seinfeld himself. Joe’s jaw actually drops and he’s rendered speechless, silently rereading the words over and over. “It goes great with the pants, that I somehow knew you’d be wearing today. How predictable.”

He shrugs and looks down at the well worn blue pants, trying and failing to hide his smirk. “What can I say?”

“That you’re a millionaire who’s also a serial outfit repeater? What would Anna Wintour say if she could see you now?”

“She’d probably say that I pull off the lazy look very well,” he retorts with a laugh. Looking back at the painting and then at you, Joe feels a rush of emotion threatening to overwhelm him. He had no idea how you got this but he’s sure it took a long time and you went to great lengths to make it possible, to make him happy. “Thank you,” he whispers, suddenly not trusting his voice.

You find yourself in his arms before you even register that your body has moved, clinging onto him like your life depends on it. Part of you wanted to stay, be in this moment and let yourself fall back into the routine of a grueling season with the person who clearly brought you an immense joy unlike anything you’d ever experienced. Joe was your peace, your picnic on a sunny day and it was scary to see how easily the two of you hadn’t missed a beat, teasing each other and talking like lifelong friends who could read each other like a book. The thing that was breaking your heart the most is that Joe had become your best friend, the one you could talk to about any and everything while simultaneously making your heart beat out of your chest at the effortless romance that came from this playful and unexpected connection.

But was that really enough? When you gave his body one more squeeze before stepping back, Joe couldn’t help the awful thought going through his mind that this could be the last hug. Not wanting to tear himself away from the embrace, he awkwardly and very hesitantly lets you go, standing alone in the garage after you wish him happy birthday again and leave. All that progress he’s thought the two of you had just made was out the door and he was stuck with the coolest gift he’d ever received and a sense of emptiness inside him that only you could fill.

The next day in the facility he was locked in. Focused solely on football from the moment he walked in, went through walkthrough as he tried to avoid the Hard Knocks crew and conducted his weekly press conference like it was another day. Only after he got in the car did he allow himself to really acknowledge that he was missing you. Yesterday was supposed to have helped and it did, but it also just made him realize that life was just better with you around and he couldn’t keep letting you walk away.

He’d admittedly been quiet last night at dinner with his parents and when they asked if he was okay he just told them that the season was weighing on him a bit, not exactly ready to divulge the fact that he was seeing someone and had potentially ruined it all in the same breath. That may result in too many questions he wasn’t ready to answer. So he scheduled time to speak with the one person he could always turn to for guidance and perspective.

And 24 hours later, as soon as he walked in the door, he set his stuff down and went upstairs to his room for an emergency Zoom meeting with his therapist. After the session was over and he had a moment to think, he pondered his therapist’s words urging him to think about one defining moment that encapsulates your relationship to guide him in his next steps.

The two of you had finished eating dinner during the bye week on the couch. Sushi boxes were discarded on the table as you forced him to watch some cooking show. You slid your feet under his leg, desperately searching for warmth in places where the blanket just wasn’t enough.

“Your feet cold again?” You nod. “Babe, you might have circulation issues or something, should probably get that checked out,” he grins, lifting himself up so he can grab your legs and put them in his lap. His touch instantly brings heat to your limbs, shooing away the frigid air and replacing it with a soft glow that you’re pretty sure has surrounded you since you and Joe made things official.

Once you’ve warmed up enough you cross over to the other side of the couch to wrap yourself up in him, as close as you possibly can. Nights like this feel like his own little peace of heaven, your arm resting casually on his chest and your bodies practically glued to each other, becoming one simultaneous heartbeat. He presses a lingering kiss to the top of your head, laying there in complete bliss, all of worries about football, the team and their season out the window for a bit. The weight of carrying a franchise is easily lifted when you’re around, keeping his feet on the ground in times when he would have his head in the clouds. For one second everything makes sense and it’s perfect…until it hits him square in the chest.

He’s in love.

Joe comes back to himself, snapping out of that bye week memory wiping a tear that he hadn’t realize was coming down his face. His heart tightens at recognizing why he’d lashed out at you and said those horrible things. It wasn’t football stress at all. It was fear driving him, he reverted back to the person he was trying to work on. And instead of being honest, he’d built an emotional wall around himself disguised as work stress to keep himself from saying those three words at a time he thought could be too soon for the two of you and scare you off. Because it was definitely terrifying him, even if he felt it. And now he may have lost you as a result of his actions.

On Friday, he actually looked forward to enjoy the off day, after he got his morning workout in at the facility. And then you texted him to tell him you were walking into the house.

You looked nervous and he didn’t like it. “Is this a bad time?” He shakes his head no, unsure if he wants to do this right now. The quarterback was really regretting coming home right about now. Being at the stadium watching the guys play golf would’ve been a much faster but still painful death. This was just torture.

“I’ve been thinking…a lot. And,” you take in a deep breath, hoping that filling your lungs with lots of air can make what you have to say a bit easier.

Joe pales, thinking that you’ve put off breaking up with him because of his birthday. He wants to brace himself for impact. He should respect your wishes, whether he agrees or not, but you both know he isn’t one to go down without a fight. “Before you dump me, I just—I have to tell you how sorry I am. You bulldozed through my life like freight train with your royalty jokes and your horrible day and I knew I needed more. Wanted to know everything about you. But I’m not great at this. Emotions aren’t easy to talk about and I usually pride myself on not showing them and you’ve brought them out of me. So when things got a little too real, I shut down. You’re one of the greatest things in my life but I really messed it up.”

“Joe…” you say quietly, begging the tears not to come.

He stops you, “if I don’t get this out, I might not get another chance. I’m sorry for making you feel like I don’t want to be around you when the truth is that sometimes it’s all I want. You mentioned schedules and—and routines. Nowhere in my plans did it include falling for someone this soon and I pushed you away because I was scared, not because you’re a distraction but because—being with you makes me have to admit that the things I feel for you aren’t like anything I’ve ever felt before. I’m sorry I hurt you in the midst of realizing that.”

You look at him, trying to memorize every one of his features. The natural bags under his eyes are a bit more pronounced, a slight glimmer in his ocean eyes give away all of the emotions written on his face. He looks devastated, a look all too familiar to you since you and the entire country have seen him look dejected and defeated several times throughout the season. But there’s something more distressing hidden behind his gaze. An indescribable amount of worry etched across his features.

Joe looks…heartbroken.

The honesty and raw intensity of his words are almost enough to render you speechless, but you came here for a reason.

You clear your throat before you speak, biting back your own emotions. “Joseph I’m not breaking up with you. Believe me, I wanted to and I thought about all the reasons why maybe I should. Because I don’t think I’m built for this life,” you look down at your feet, heaving out another breath before looking up at him and holding out your hand for him to hold.

“None of this is easy and sometimes, yeah I doubt myself. And you are very moody for like half the year. But there’s nowhere else I want to be and no one else I’d rather be with. Through the honeymoon phase or 60 years from now when when we’re senile and yelling at each other about the tv remote. Mostly me yelling you staring angrily but—as long as we’re together, I really don’t care. What I’m saying is…I don’t want easy. I want you.”

The tension in his shoulders is released almost immediately. “So you’re saying you’re stuck with me?” He laughs, a sense of relief taking over him. “And you aren’t just saying that because you haven’t had Boca in almost two weeks, right?”

“Your ability to get me their Maple Mascarpone Cheesecake whenever I want is not the main reason why I love you. That’s just one of many.”

You take a second to realize what you just said, opening and closing your mouth a few times but no words are coming out.

Joe’s smiling so big his face is starting to hurt. “You just said you love me.”

Tilting your head to look at him, laughing a little. You can’t believe you let it slip out like that. “I did, didn’t I?”

“Say it again,” he says softly, squeezing your hand and taking a few steps toward you.

You shake your head, one of your hands finding their way into his hair as you pull him in.

The man’s breath hitches as he melts into your touch, the kiss slowly putting him back together, free from all the anxious energy he’d put aside as a defense mechanism. “Joseph, I love you. I love you. I love you.”

The sound of your words radiate against his lips, sending a never ending shiver down his spine.

"I love you too,” he utters with such sweetness you feel like your heart is exploding. “And I missed you.”

He leans in and pours two weeks of apologies and love into the kiss and after all this time of not being close to him, you never want to let him go again. You eventually do separate, only because you need air, and giggle at the fact that you actually still haven’t let each other go. With your fingers intertwined, you lead him upstairs. “Do you need help packing?” Joe steals another quick peck, whispering yes because he’s not letting you out of his sight until it’s time for him to leave tomorrow.

None of this was part of the plan but now that your soul has found its match, you really don’t have a choice but to dive in.

#Joe burrow #joe burrow x reader #joe burrow imagine #joe burrow fic

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delulujuls · 9 months ago

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young, dumb & bwoke | ln4

hi! as u can see i couldn't stop myself from writing about last saturday events in amsterdam with mr norris as main star (he was more popular than the king himself lmao). lando is literally what i always bring to the function and yup, enjoy him being the chaotic drunk bestie while max and y/n are his literal party parents. its nothing crazy and without plot basically, i just added sum to this years' koningsdag so yeah, enjoy!

summary: there is nothing that lando loves more than a good party and his beloved dutch friends so imagine him with drink in his cup surrounded by whole orange nation. it could be nuts and it was

warnings: TONS of alcohol, lando being drunk (and hurted), mentions of blood, basically sum chaos

pairing: fem!dutch!bff!reader x lando norris (ft. max verstappen)

Lando couldn't wait for the plane he was on to break through the heavy cloud cover and land in Amsterdam.

China and Miami, which were the next rounds on the calendar, were separated by two weeks that were nothing else, in Lando's case, than a time of stagnation. Add to this the fact that Lando had bad memories of his performance in China and, what's worse, the sprint he failed so badly and which constantly played in his head like a jammed record, one could go crazy. That's why the Brit was extremely happy when he received an invitation to spend the weekend in the capital of the Netherlands. He was invited to Amsterdam to celebrate King Willem's birthday by none other than his favorite flying Dutch.

The friendship of Y/N, Max and Lando began in 2019, practically from the very moment he entered Formula 1. The kid, who was barely 20 years old but looked like 12, immediately won over the Dutch couple with his smile and sense of humor, who, due to their sometimes severe temperament, could not boast of having many friends in the paddock. Even though the three friends were only two years apart, Max and Y/N naturally became Lando's racing parents, with whom the Brit spent practically every moment, from time in the paddock, through celebrating on the podium, to time away from competitions. So it was no surprise when they invited him to spend the weekend together, to which he, of course, eagerly agreed.

When the plane landed, Lando pulled the hood of his orange sweatshirt over his head and slung his backpack over his shoulder, in which he packed everything he might need for the coming days. As you could guess, there wasn't much of it, he actually had everything he needed on him and the most important part was an oversized orange sweatshirt. Waiting for him at the airport was Y/N, who couldn't wait to see him. She didn't have to wait too long, because a moment later he walked out in front of the terminal. Y/N smiled as she saw her friend walking towards her and she hugged him tightly.

"You knew I was coming, you could have asked the king for better weather," Lando joked, trying to sound serious, which only made the girl giggle.

"If you think that the weather will have any influence on what will happen in the evening, then unfortunately I will have to disappoint you," she replied, getting into the car. "It's already starting to get crowded in downtown, and it's not even noon."

Lando threw his backpack into the backseat and got into the passenger side. He smiled like a child, looking forward to how the weekend would unfold. It looked like he would spend a nice few days, able to finally de-stress and relax, and in the company of friends. But speaking of friends, one of them was missing.

"And where's Max?" he asked as they left the airport and were on their way to the girl's apartment. "I thought he had been waiting for me with the welcome committee since yesterday."

"He's already in town, I dropped him off while I was on my way to pick you up."

"He's fast," Lando laughed and shook his head, "I hope he's still on his feet when we get to him."

At that moment, Lando didn't think about the fact that no one else but himself would be able to stay on his feet. When the Brit set off for Amsterdam, he obviously expected to spend two days drunk, with legs sore from dancing and a sore throat from singing, but he forgot that he has absolutely no immunity to alcohol.

When the three friends were finally together, alcohol quickly appeared in their hands. Y/N and Max started with beer, but Lando had no intention of wasting his time drinking something that would only cause pressure on his bladder. As soon as he boarded one of the barges floating on the Herenbracht Canal, he drank several shots at once. Y/N and Max just exchanged glances as he drank the drink standing on Garrix's console in one gulp, who didn't care one bit about it, being already in a good mood himself.

"I'm a little worried about how this might end," Max said in her ear as she took a sip of her cider, watching Lando jump happily.

"Even if he's drunk, so what," she replied, handing him her bottle and taking away the body paints in circulation, "He didn't come here to be bored."

Max was about to say something, but she pushed his hand slightly, bringing the bottle he was holding to his lips. Max shook his head and took a few sips from it, while the girl started painting flags on his cheeks. When she finished, she waved them up, attracting Lando's attention, who understood what she meant and nodded eagerly. The girl squeezed through the console and stood next to him, leaning him against the barge rails, because Lando had trouble not bobbing to the music for a moment.

The smile that never left his face wrinkled his cheeks, on which she tried to paint Dutch flags. When she finished and turned to pass the paints, Lando took off her sunglasses and put them on himself.

"Have a drink with me!" Lando shouted, holding out his empty cup to her, and she raised her cider bottle in response. He rolled his eyes in dissatisfaction when suddenly a bottle of vodka appeared in the crowd and someone handed it straight to his hands. Without much thought, Lando unscrewed the cap and took a few sips as if the contents were water, which of course met with the crowd's approval.

Y/N took the bottle from his hands, fearing not the amount Lando drank, but the relatively short time it took him to do so. However, not wanting to seem boring, she tilted the bottle herself, letting the liquid burn her throat. Delighted, Lando clapped his hands and hugged his friend, causing some of the alcohol to flow down her chin. She smiled, wrapping her arms around his waist as well, and raised her hand in a toast, which was joined by everyone who had something to drink.

Max also raised his beer bottle a bit. However, somewhere in the background of his mind there was an image of Lando and what he would look like in the near future. However, the Brit himself did not care at all about this. As long as he was in the company of his friends, his plastic cup was full and he could jump to the music and sing along, he was happy. Even the fact that his face was in the wrong place at the wrong time, when someone, completely by accident, punched him in the face, didn't disturb it.

Y/N, who also decided to pick up the pace after drinking her cider, immediately sobered up when she saw blood on her friend's face. She quickly pressed a tissue to his nose, but he tried to assure her that he was fine. His brain didn't encode the impact or the pain, didn't acknowledge that he was bleeding, even when he ran his tongue over his lips and tasted blood on them. People in the crowd started calling out to each other to see if anyone had a first aid kit. Suddenly, out of nowhere, a bandage appeared, and just as Y/N, being drunk, thought it would be a great idea to wrap Lando's face in a bandage, Max started asking people if they somehow had band aids. He couldn't let that dumbass parade around like that for the rest of the evening.

“I've sobered up a bit, I can keep drinking,” he said as Y/N finished clumsily bandaging his face, “I probably look worse that i did when i crashed in Vegas.”

Her friend tried to be serious, but it was impossible to stay serious around Lando. "You have to be careful, Lan," she said, trying to retain some sanity and touching his cheek, looking into his eyes, "I hope it's not broken."

"Bwoken," he repeated in silly voice, giggling "Oh no, it couldn't be bwoken"

"Honestly, i also hope it is not," Max interjected when he managed to rejoin his friends after some time, "Getting to the hospital now would be a near miracle."

"Hey, I'm fine," he said as Max waved the Band-Aids in his face and began to remove the clumsy bandage into which their friend had probably poured her whole heart and a few drinks that she drank earlier.

"I'm glad you don't feel anything, but that doesn't change the fact that I won't look at it," he replied, lifting his chin and examining his nose from every angle. Luckily this one seemed fine.

Once Max had placed two tiny patches on him, Y/N handed him his mug with a fresh drink again. "Brave patient," she smiled at him.

"In a state like this, I'd be surprised if he felt something," Max admitted, taking a bottle of vodka standing nearby. He decided that since Lando had had an accident, nothing worse awaited them and he could allow himself to loosen a bit more. He took a few sips and handed the bottle to the younger one, who smiled, tightening his hand around it. He looked at his friends standing in front of him, slightly drunk but still fully focused on him. He knew he was important to them and that he is not alone in all this madness.

"I love you guys," he said, with a bottle in his hand, pushing himself off the railing and hugging them, "You are the best in the world, simply the best."

The rest of the day and later in the evening took place in a great atmosphere and the party lasted until 3. in the morning. For the rest of Amsterdam it probably lasted longer, but for Lando it began to end after two o'clock, when he was barely able to stand. Partly from being drunk, partly from being tired. He didn't stand still during a single song, so the next day, apart from his face, his legs will certainly be visible. Taking a break for something warm to eat, Max, Y/N, and Lando sat down at one of the wooden tables. While waiting for their orders, Lando rested his head on Y/N's shoulder and closed his eyes. It was obvious that he just needed something to lean on to fall asleep.

"I think it's time for us to go," the girl announced, directing her words to Max. "The baby is only fit for bed now."

"He's been in great shape for a long time anyway, judging by how much he was on his feet today," Max concluded, glancing first at him and then at the girl, "But you're holding up pretty well, aren't you?"

"Yes, I do," she nodded and hugged Lando, who began to slide off her shoulder, "But I'm also getting sleepy."

"Me too," Max rubbed his face with his hands, "At least we can be sure that no one will wake us up first thing in the morning to explore the city."

He said, glancing at Lando, who was dozing with his mouth open on his friend's shoulder. After eating casseroles and fries, which were for Lando and which he was unable to eat, the three of them went to the girl's apartment. Of course, only she and Max were walking on their own, Lando was between them, leaning on their arms. He was muttering something incomprehensible under his breath, so it was obvious that he was alive and everything was fine, besides the fact that he was completely drunk.

When they arrived at the address and crossed the threshold of the apartment, they immediately went to put him in the bedroom, not wasting time in unfolding the couch for him. Max was in the process of stripping him of his shoes, pants, bloody sweatshirt, and all the necklaces and ribbons he had collected the previous day, while Y/N placed a large bottle of water, painkillers, and a bucket by his bed, as if the contents of his stomach had suddenly decided that they wants to get outside. However, there was no indication that Lando was going to have a restless night, because he started snoring softly as soon as his cheek touched the pillow. Max covered him with the blanket and took a few steps away from the bed, standing next to his friend who was looking at the sleeping boy.

"Can you hear that?" Max whispered, glancing at her, and she frowned questioningly, "It's silence, listen to it, because when he gets up, the only thing you can hear will be his lamentations about how hungover he is."

The girl snorted quietly and shook her head, taking Lando's clothes to the laundry.

"The most important thing is that he had a good time. And a little hangover never killed nobody."

The next day, however, did not bring anything unexpected. When Lando woke up, the first thing that hit him was a terrible headache that got worse when he sat down and tried to get out of bed. When he stood in the doorway of the bedroom, Y/N and Max's eyes immediately went towards him and Lando could swear that they looked like they spent the entire last evening on the couch.

"Hi honey, did you sleep well?" Max asked playfully, in the perfect mood for jokes since he himself was fine after last night.

Lando just blinked several times and wanted to wipe his face with his hands and collect some words to answer, but when he touched his cut nose, he cursed loudly.

"What the fuck?"

"A souvenir from yesterday," the girl answered him, getting up from the couch and taking out a frozen package from the fridge, which she handed to him, "I recommend a shower and I'll make you some coffee."

He closed his eyes and put the package to his nose, sighing and grabbing the bathroom door handle. Before he disappeared, Max just shouted after him.

"And don't puke in the shower!"

#f1 imagines #f1 #f1 one shot #formula 1 #f1 oneshots #f1 imagine #lando norris #ln4 #lando norris x reader #lando norris x you #lando norris x y/n #max verstappen #mv1 #mv33 #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen x you

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pynkfairyheart · 5 months ago

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pairings: Onyankopon x black!reader

warnings: beach sex, fluffy

a/n: this was something i quickly put together bc guess what y'all. a bitch turns 22 today!!!! AHHHHHH. ໒꒰ྀིᵔ ᵕ ᵔ ꒱ྀི১ we'll see if im sober enough later to share some pictures, but i do hope yall enjoy this fic. she's very cutesy

Birthday wishes

Loved. That's the feeling coursing through your body as the ones you loved sang you happy birthday. Your cheeks hurting from the attention and laughter due to Jean and Eren's off key singing.

Looking up from the dessert decorated with flames your eyes scanned the tent before landing on him.

The single dimple decorating his left cheek was prominent as he happily sang along with the group. The most handsome smile being sent your way as your eyes locked, giving you a full display of his gold grills decorated with your initials on each upper canine.

To say Onyankopon was a good boyfriend was an understatement. He was everything and more when it came to your wishes in a man. He was respectful, kind, passionate, extremely handsome, and the most caring man you had ever met.

Birthdays had never been your thing due to something always going wrong leaving you sad at the end of the night. However, with Ony he made it his mission to have you feel properly celebrated, always leaving you feeling like a princess by the end of the night.

Throughout the entire 3 years of your relationship, he seemed to make each birthday better than last. This year being a surprise trip to Bora Bora.

Forcing yourself to break eye contact with him you looked back down at the dessert just as the song ended.

“Girl, make a wish. I'm hungry” Sasha blurted out immediately, earning a chorus of laughs and a light shove from Mikasa.

Quickly thinking of a wish, you lightly blew out the candles and basked in the cheers and applause sent your way.

After hours of having all attention on you, there was finally a time when you and Ony could run off together.

Silently the two of you walked hand in hand as you listened closely to the crashing of the waves.

“You having a good day?” He broke the silence once no longer in the eyesight of your friends

“I am” You smiled brightly as you stopped to admire the sunset “I can't thank you enough for doing this, Ony”

A small chuckle escaped him as he stopped to look at you.

Unable to tear his eyes away from your face as his heart melted at the glow the orange hue dancing on your face gave you.

God, you were just so beautiful to him. The way you smiled down to the way the soft breeze lightly blew your sundress was enough to make him fall in love all over again.

“Don't thank me, princess. You deserve this and more” He voiced as his large hands gripped your waist, a gentle hum leaving him as he finally felt satisfied with the feeling of your body flushed against him.

“I’d do anything for you. I'm just blessed to have you in my life” He admitted, voice softer than before.

Leaning down his lips brushed over the sensitive skin of your neck before trailing up to lightly place a kiss on your lips

Before you knew it you were staring up at the colorful hues of the sky as he delivered slow and passionate strokes

“Ony” You mewled softly, nails scratching across his back as he practically laid on top of you.

"Mhmm?" He murmured, his voice vibrating against your neck before lifting his head to stare into your eyes

There was nothing you could do but drown in those chocolate brown eyes. Complete bliss surrounding you as the waves seemed to time perfectly with his delicate movements.

“I love you so much” You finally gasped out. Voice wavering due to the intense amount of love and pleasure coursing through your veins.

“I love you too, mama” He whispered, strong arms reaching down to hook under your leg, giving him a better angle

The moment was perfect. The crashing of the waves, transition into nightfall, and grunts that slipped past Ony’s lips

You weren't exactly a true believer in wishes but at this moment in time you were the biggest believer of all.

#ITS VIRGO SEASONNNN #anime x black!reader #aot x black reader #black reader #aot x reader #attack on titan #chubby reader #aot smut #aot onyankopon #ony x black reader #onyankopon x black reader smut #onyankopon x reader #onyankapon #aot onyankopon x black y/n #aot onyankopon x black!reader #onyankopon smut #onyankopon x black reader #onyankopon x black y/n #onyankopon x chubby reader

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crispy-armpit · 9 months ago

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✧ 𝒊 𝒕𝒂𝒌𝒆 𝒎𝒚 𝒘𝒉𝒊𝒔𝒌𝒆𝒚 𝒏𝒆𝒂𝒕 ✧

yandere secret agent x reader

‧₊˚ ⋅ ‧ 🍸₊˚ ⋆｡ 𖦹 °

⭒ 𝘴𝘶𝘮𝘮𝘢𝘳𝘺: after taking on your friend's offer to head downtown to a hidden bar, you find yourself in the middle of a covert operation. thankfully Messiah is there to hide you from danger. or did he just push you right into it?

⭒ 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘵: gn reader, yandere, suggestive position & situation, slight violence, reader held at gunpoint, mentions of a firearm and getting shot, reader pressed against male crotch, sadism(?), auditory hallucination (you hear voices), hair pulling, swearing

⭒ 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘥 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘵: 1,153 words

⭒ a/n: it was my birthday last month and i had planned to post this by then but ofc i never learn my lesson and kept my drafts in tumblr (leading to it getting deleted) 😭!! so sorry for the wait everyone and happy late new years! :D hope u like the batman wannabe.. it goes from 0 to 100 rq because it's hilarious to me and i'm sleep deprived.. i can smell the hate comments already

will you venture down this path?

it was supposed to be another weekend night spent alone in your home; you, comfortably snuggling against your pillows while playing your favourite brain-rot game from night to morning.

but here you were— unfortunately not in your bed, and devastatingly not romancing your fictional game characters. your friend, Vern, had dragged convinced you to join him and try out some random jazz bar which recently opened.

he mentioned his band would be playing there... he's probably just trying to get more people to hype up his band.

the warm ambience of the bistro & bar, alongside the joyous laughter ringing all over the room, people bantering and simply enjoying each other's presence was enough to erase the thoughts of your usual weekend plans. it was the type of place where you couldn't bring up any negative emotions just because of how chill everyone and everything was. so that's one forgiveness point to your friend.

at some point, Vern had split off from you to meet up with the other Ares band members to go perform— leaving you to drink away your life at the bar.

you channeled your best resting bitch face to avoid any strangers trying to hit on you, which worked. you sat alone listening to the blue voice of the current performer, making small talk here and there with the bartender.

oh, the bartender—

you'd been eyeing him up all night.

he was the only other person at the bar. like all other bartenders, he was charismatic and attractive despite the two deep scars running down his left cheek.

maybe he noticed you looking at it, because he suddenly rasped out, "...animal attack" with a nonchalant smile. which is quite impressive, since your gaze never once lingered on the scars for too long. he must be observing me.

Logan (you read his name tag) was an exceptional conversationist. and he played the bartender role extremely well. he brought up topics like your ambitions, your dreams, and even your darkest passions effortlessly.

but his eyes never seemed to really focus on your figure when you talked.

it was always off to a specific direction in the distance. and when you turned to look at what he was looking at, there would only be the same wrinkly old man sitting on the sofa chair.

"can you see it?"

confused, you reply, "see what?"

do you see it? the eyes? his lack of mouth? with hair as white as his, and skin as dark as void, how can you not see me?

"what the hell are you sayi—" you grow pale when you turn back and see Logan had his back turned away from you the whole time, far from the counter.

who was talking to me?

and for the first time in 3 hours since you've arrived, the old man from the chair moves. he wanders aimlessly for a moment until setting his sights on the bar. multiple random people who were loitering in the room take notice of his sudden movement, and all briskly walk towards him.

you're petrified.

the world is spinning, people are blocking the old man's path from you. and you're so thankful for that because it gives you the time to be pulled on top of the bar counter and then underneath it by a pair of strong hands.

your consciousness recovers and you're met with Logan, body crouched down to your level. his shadowed face shows no semblance of the bright man you were talking to a while ago. now his own icy blue eyes pierced through yours, and the once attractive rasp of his voice is now chilling to the bone.

"Logan—"

"you better fucking shut up unless you want to die."

he pulls out a revolver and points it to your forehead.

profusely nodding your head in understanding, tears begin to prick your eyes; this is so fucking messed up, what is happening??

your brain tells you that this was just the alcohol getting to you, and maybe Logan has some kind of split personality and a murderer... that it's some kind of sick prank Vern is probably pulling on you. maybe my drink got spiked...

but your gut tells you that you are in great danger. alcohol has never made you experience that level of auditory hallucination... hell, you were probably being delusional right now— of course Logan's trying to kill you!!

you could hear the faint sounds of bodies thudding against other people as if they were thrown or pushed. but no screams, just grunts. the loudness of the approaching footsteps came to a halt in front of the counter.

you cover your cries as best as you can with your palms and with Logan's hidden weapon still pointed at you. you could so easily whack it away or dodge it. but you stop once you hear the most grotesque voice ever, the result of what sounded like flesh tearing apart and bones reconstructing.

"where... are... they.....?"

you are faced with two decisions:

scream for help and get shot in the head by Logan

scream for help and face whatever the fuck is out there

either way, you don't get to choose. because the stress of the situation is beginning to overwhelm you and soon your whimpers slip out a little. small enough to not be heard from in front of the counter, but big enough for whoever is on top of you— and that someone happened to be the psychopathic bartender.

you freeze.

but your strength alone is not enough to hold back against the veiny hands that grab the back of your hair and push you against the bulge of the man standing in front of you.

you push and thrash over his grasp, but your actions only lead to him digging the lower parts of your face further into his crotch. WHAT THE FUCK IS HE DOING??? IS HE TRYING TO SILENCE ME WITH HIS DICK?!

and it works...

you stay silent and limp, not because of fear. but because of the absurdity of this situation and the slow growth of whatever beast is hiding under those black waiter pants.

the heat of your muffled breath against his privates collects in your face, it's getting too much but you hold yourself together. your hands that were once pushing him off now lay on the top of his hardened thighs.

Logan shares a couple words with the old man before pointing him elsewhere. you catch a strange name falling off the old man's lips, Messiah. fuck, is this a cult? shortly afterwards, you hear the light sounds of evacuating feet. he's finally gone.

and with the speed of a middle-aged lady during black friday sales, you manage to push him off to the side and stand up across him, ready to give him a piece of your mind.

you were humiliated, violated, mentally tired and— and—

why the fuck is he blushing.

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daydreams-after-dark · 7 months ago

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Hi love >_<!! How are you???

Because it's almost my birthday. (just 15 days !) Could you maybe write something for my birthday? :> I am requesting it very early because I'm so busy with my own life, including my mental health, so I won't be online often ( ꩜ ᯅ ꩜)⁭ ⁭ ( 1 am totally okay, tho!! So don't worry about me!) You can post it before or after my birthday. I don't really mind when!

Something about birthday sex mixed with slight angst if you don't mind?? (Pure smut is totally okay!) Make it filthy and add whatever you want, as I already said once; I'm open for everything!! (I'm a slut ngl..)

P.s. I'm into piss lately..shhh

- lots of love 🎪

pairing: male escort!lino x fem birthday girl reader (I hope it's okay that I have chosen Lino for this?)

Your friends pay for a sex worker for your birthday, but what happens when arrives and you already know each other?

A/n: Hey Happy Birthday 🎪 my love. I hope you are well and taking care of yourself 😘 Tending to real life and mental health is extremely important.

I hope that my little scenario is okay, I am struggling with writing lately. The ideas are there, but the execution is not as good as I want it to be.

warnings below the cut

CW: Piss Kink (f on m), breeding kink, unprotected p in v (pls be safe), restraints, paid sex, birthday sex, oral sex, vaginal fingering.

You’re not really sure why you decided to dial the number on the gift card your best friends gave you. Really? Why of all the presents they could have chosen, did they think it appropriate to gift you a male escort/gigalo? One who does home visits at that?

Yep! They knew you hadn’t had sex in almost a year, and they knew you really needed to get laid.

You’d never paid for sex before. Technically, you’re not paying for sex in this instance either, your friends have. But still. What are you thinking? Letting a stranger come in and do things to you.

The doorbell chimes and you let out a shaky breath. “Happy Birthday, Bitch!” You wink at yourself in the mirror and take one last look over your body. You’d shaved your legs, popped on a little thong, and slipped a short satin dress on. No bra. Fuck! You sigh. It’s basically a short satin camisole nightie. Will this be okay?

The doorbell chimes again and you hurry to open the door to your apartment.

“Lino?” You gasp in surprise when you see your brother’s best friend standing in your doorway and not the escort. You squint your eyes. It is him isn’t it? You haven’t seen him in five years. But it has to be him.

“Y/n? Noona?” He smiles and takes a good look at your face. “Um… I…ah…must have the wrong address.” He begins nervously. “Let me just check where I’m supposed to be.” He whips out his phone. “Unit 4, 70…”

“Yep. That’s this address.” You say awkwardly.

You stare at each other for a moment as realisation hits.

“You booked an escort?”

“You’re the escort?”

Lino laughs while you hide your face in your hands “Fuck! This is so embarrassing.” You wail.

“So you did hire an escort. Well then... Do you want me to come in? Leave? You’re the client. It’s your call.”

“My friends organized it. They think…” you trail off.

So many questions run through your mind. Why is Lino an escort? And dear god, what if he tells your brother about this? Is Lino actually going to fuck you? No! That’s probably very unlikely. But he is extremely attractive… and he is paid for… You bite your lip.

“So? What’s it going to be?”

“Hmm?” Your thought are broken.

“Shall I stay, or leave?” He repeats.

——

You couldn’t turn him away, that would have been rude right? So you brought him in, offered him a drink and snack and invited him to sit on the couch with you.

Now you’re half an hour into a conversation about what you had both been doing for the past few years. You learned that being a gigalo… sorry, escort, is Lino’s side hustle while he brings to life his big dream of opening a restaurant-slash-dance entertainment establishment.

“Like a strip club?” You raise an eyebrow.

He rolls his eyes. “No, not a strip club. It’s going to be for all ages.”

He learned about you too. What you do for a living, your bad breakup a year ago, how it’s your birthday and your friends organized this as a gift.

He unzips his black backpack that you hadn’t even realized he had with him, and retrieves a tablet.

“Alright, let’s see what you have booked.” He opens an app and smirks as he skims over the details.

“Wait! What are you reading?” You try to catch a glimpse of the screen but he pulls it away.

“I don’t know what my friends told you…” you tug your hair wishing you were invisible.

"it says here: vanilla sex." He turns the tablet to show you.

Your mouth hangs open in shock. "Those fucking bitches think I want vanilla sex?" You shriek. "Or was that the cheapest option?" you pout.

Lino laughs haughtily. "Hey, don't shoot the messenger. Or orgasm giver. What is it I've read on Instagram - 'don't bite the hand that fingers you?'"

"Give it here." You snatch the device from him. "Am I suppose to sign something? Tick some boxes? Consent to some shit?" You scroll the screen.

"The next tab over." Lino leans over your shoulder. "Yep. Right there." He pokes his tongue out of his mouth slightly as his eyes catch some of the "inclusions" that can be selected.

In your desire to prove your friends wrong, and that you don’t want just vanilla sex, you hastily tick every single box on the form and sign the bottom. "There! Surprise me! It is my birthday afterall." you huffed.

Lino raises an eyebrow. Then suddenly he pulls you by an arm and a leg forcing you to straddle him. You yelp in surprise, but it’s quickly replaced with a sigh, and you really hope he didn’t notice.

His face is awfully close to yours and you can already feel yourself growing wet with anticipation. Are you really about to be fucked by your little brother’s best friend? The one that used to have sleepovers at your house. The one that used to wear cat print pyjamas?

“Do you even know what you signed up for?” He whispers eyeing you up and down and swallowing hard.

“I said surprise me.” You gulp.

His hands run up your thighs. “Is this thing expensive?” He asks gently tugging at the hem of your black satin dress.

You shake your head.

“Good.” He growls as he tears the garment from your body. Your hands fly up to cover your exposed breasts, but he tugs them away roughly. “I used to wonder what your tits looked like. Fuck! They’re perfect.” He sighs and takes a nipple into his mouth. You gasp and throw your head back. You grind against his crotch, and you notice he has hardened in his jeans.

“Wanna know a secret?” He says as he pops off your nipple and licks it. “I used to get hard when you’d walk around your house braless.” He bites down your nipple making you cry out. “Sometimes,” he begins to pepper kisses across your chest towards your other nipple. “You’d show me your nipples through your shirt. They’d get so hard, poking against the fabric. I’d have to go jack off. That’s how hot I thought you were.”

“Were?” You raise an eyebrow.

"Were. Are. Always will be." He locks eyes on you and you feel the tension in the air thicken.

"Are you really going to fuck me, Lino?" you whisper quietly.

"I'm going to make this a night you're never going to forget." He replies huskily.

"You didn't answer my question." You smirk, threading your fingers through his dark locks.

He holds onto your ass as he slips off the couch to lay you down onto your soft fluffy rug in the middle of your living room.

Leaning over you, propped up on one arm and cupping your cheek with the other, he leans down and captures your mouth in a kiss. The gentleness is unexpected, but it isn't long until he is kissing you more purposefully. His tongue glides over yours making you hum into his mouth. He moans at that, deepening the kiss even further, like he wants to possess you.

You hold on for dear life as he presses his strong thigh between your legs, nudging them open so he can press hard against your core. Your back bows off the floor and you whimper. Fuck, you must sound so desperate. But it has been so long since you had anyone, besides yourself, has touched you.

He presses his thigh against you again and chuckles when you respond with another moan. "Such pretty noises, Noona." He smiles against your cheek. "If I were to touch your pussy, I bet it would be soaking." He leans up and looks at you. "I'm dying to know."

He looks around the living room, seemingly making some kind of assessment, and then he's back into his backpack. You lean up on your arms to see him with a velvet-like rope in his hands. Your cunt clenches and an excitement swirls around your stomach.

"Lay back down." He instructs, and then he's tying your wrists together with the soft rope. He positions your arms above your head and secures the ropes to the leg of your chunky timber coffee table.

But that's not all. Lino is back with more ropes, this time tying one around each of your legs. He manages to position you in such a way that he can secure the other end of the ropes to the little wooden legs of your couch, forcing you to be spread open for him.

You feel so exposed and so utterly vulnerable, even with your tiny thong on. But even that doesn't stay on for long, as Lino cuts it off with scissors.

He sits back on his heels between your legs and takes you in. "That's better. You won't be able to squirm away. Now I can get a good look at your pussy." He bites his lip and runs his hands up the inside of your thighs. You shiver at his touch, not sure how you're going to last. You're on the verge of an orgasm as it is.

"So fucking wet, Noona." He states as he spreads your folds gently and runs his thumb through your arousal. He slides a finger into your tightness, then a second. "Tight too. It's been a while, hmm?" He teases.

"Unfortunately, yes." You cry.

"Let's take care of you then." He promises and without warning begins to finger fuck you hard, fast, and angled directly into your g-spot.

"No! Lino! Not yet...can't come yet!" You beg.

"Oh Kitten, you are gonna come when I say, and as many times as I say."

He's relentless with his fingers. You can't squirm away, forced to take what he is giving you. You're cunt is already producing the most lewd sounds you've ever heard. How can you possibly be this wet? How can Lino be so good at this? Your eyes roll back as you give in, accepting the pleasure. The tightness inside of you ready to burst. "Oh god... fuck..." you pant. Your chest feels flush and you know your face is turning a slight shade of pink as you edge closer to release.

"That's it... come all over my fingers." He coaxes.

You come hard, your back lifting off the floor, your thighs trembling, and tears threatening to spill from your eyes.

You collapse, panting. "Lino," you say as your try to catch your breath. "So good...so fucking good. How are you this good?" You sob.

"Shhh. It's okay. Here. Suck these." he lays beside you and pushes his glistening fingers into your mouth. You've never really had anyone shove their fingers into your mouth before, but it feels so erotic. You moan as you taste yourself on him, urging him to push his fingers deeper into your mouth. You make a pathetic sound when he goes to pull them away, so he lets you suck and lightly choke on them a little longer.

"If that's how you suck my fingers, my cock's not going to stand a chance." he says with a half smile. Your eyes snap open and you stare at him with pleading eyes.

"Oh you wanna suck it do you?" he pulls his fingers out of your mouth.

You nod. "Please! Let me..."

He sucks in a breath. "Well, I can't say no to the birthday girl. Or client. Especially when they selected everything under the sun on their terms of agreement. Including, golden showers."

"Wait! What?" You lift your head, horrified. Minho looks at you incredulously, as he strips his clothes off. You are stunned. Partially because you didn't even know that was on the list, and also because Lino naked is the most beautiful thing you have ever laid eyes on.

"It's okay. You don't have to do anything you don't want." He says as pumps his delicious looking cock a few times. He seems to be hard as stone and leaking. He's leaking for you? Fuck.

You don't have time to even think more about the piss option, as Lino positions himself so you are in 69 position. You open your mouth wide, allowing him to sink his cock into your eager mouth, while at the same time he buries his face in your pussy. You moan around his thickness as he demonstrates just how skilled he is with his mouth.

He eats you out like a starved man. Lapping at you eagerly. You try to grind against his face, but he holds you firm so you can't move. He groans against you, making you whimper around his cock. It's a delicious cycle, each of your sounds and vibrations from your mouths, making the other respond in the same way. Lino starts to thrust into your mouth, his balls hitting you in the face each time. You want him to suffocate you, and you wish your hands were free so you could pull him in deeper.

All you can do is try to meet his thrusts by lifting your head as much as you can and hope he gets the message. He does get the message, and fucks your face as he slides several fingers into your cunt. He slurps on your clit and hits that sweet spot inside you, all while you're struggling for air.

It's too much and you come again. This time harder than before. He works you through it, slowing both his cock and fingers down to a slow pace. He eventually peels himself off you and sits beside you panting.

"Lino?" You whimper looking at his disheveled hair, and drenched chin. "Didn't you want to come down my throat?" you panted.

"I wasn't sure if you wanted me to?" he says shyly. He unties you from your restraints and you sit up and give him a devious look.

"What?" he looks back at you suspiciously.

"When you used to jack off because of me, what did you think about?"

"Oh, right. That?" he lays down on the rug beside you. "Well." he pauses to think. "I often imagined you riding me. Like... You couldn't contain your urges, so you'd find me in your brother's room and push me down and force me to breed you." He admits.

"In my brother's room?"

"Yah! He wouldn't be there in the fantasies." He growled. But you were already moving into position.

"So... you mean I'd climb over you like this?" You throw a leg over him hovering over his needy cock.

He nods and swallows hard.

"Then what? I sink down onto your thick, hard cock, because I need it so badly?'

"Y-yes. Wait!" His eyes flick open in horror. "Condom."

You lean down over him and kiss him on the mouth. You really don't know where this confidence is coming from. Maybe learning that Minho had it bad for you when he was younger makes you feel powerful.

"Oh, but Lino. How are you gonna breed me if we use a condom?" you whisper.

"Fuck!" He moans and pulls you down hard over his length until he is completely inside of you.

"What are you doing to me, Noona?" He whimpers as you start to roll your hips. He's so deep, and fills you so perfectly, and you can already feel your third orgasm building.

Lino's hands are all over you, caressing, squeezing, digging his fingers in. Eventually his hands find purchase on your hips, digging his fingers in hard enough to bruise as he rocks you hard on his cock. Your clit grinds perfectly against his body. It's rough, fast, slippery from your slick. He slaps your ass a few times and growls when your flesh jiggles.

"I'm close." You squeak.

"Fuck! Me too. Me too. Piss on me." He pants.

"What?" You cry, but you don't slow down. You need to come so bad that nothing is going to slow you down.

"Do it." he cries. "Hurry!"

Fuck! Really? He really wants you to? Can you even do it? You aren't sure that you're body will even let you, even if you wanted to.

"Do it now, Noona. I'll give you all my cum if you do." He sounds so desperate underneath you, that you close your eyes and let go.

You feel a warmth pool on his pelvis between your legs. You dare yourself to open your eyes. You peek through your lashes to see Lino with the most aroused expression you have ever seen in your life. Then he starts fucking into you. Painfully hard. The breath knocked from your lungs with each thrust. You feel him grow even hard inside you as he is on the verge from exploding, and it sets r you orgasm.

You clamp down hard around him like a vice. He cries out, filling you to the brim with his cum, just like he promised he would.

Your orgasms are intense, long, satisfying.

You flop down on top of him, allowing your heart to calm and your breath to return to normal.

"Lino. I hope there was an inclusion where you clean up and replace damaged items in your terms of service. Cos this rug is well and truly fucked."

"I'll take care of it." He hums.

"Lino?"

"Hmm?" he wraps his arms around you.

"This was the best birthday present ever."

"You're very welcome." He smiles to himself, but you don't see it because your face is on his chest.

“Happy birthday, Noona.”

————

A/n: I feel like Lino breached several rules as an escort… unsafe sex, knowing the client, having had a crush on the client in the past… but this is how the story turned out… so…. 🥴

@channieandhisgoonsquad @noellllslut @itsseohannbin @weareapackofstrays @3rachasdomesticbanana @palindrome969 @xxkissesforchanniexx @chuuchuu1224 @fun-fanfics @rhonnie23 @jisunglyricist @strayywayy @armystay89 @igetcarriedawaywithyou @mylittleponeypinkrosieposie @kyunchoni @justforreaders @melochacco @scenuniverse @oddracha @ismokeeweed @galaxycatdrawz @jiminssluttyminx @teddy-stay @lunearta

#lee minho smut #lee know x reader #lee know imagines #skz smut

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honkytonk-hangman · 10 months ago

Text

How It's Done – Oneshot Version

Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin x Aviator!Reader

Originally posted by unicornships

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

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

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

Words: 11.6k!

“Well, I’ll be damned…”

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

It makes your teeth grind.

It makes your face hot.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Huh. Figures.”

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

And yet.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You blink at each other.

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

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

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

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

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

Hangman turns to look at you apprehensively.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And besides, you weren’t blind.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Jake.” he corrects you.

You pause.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And then flustered, at his clear unabashed flirting.

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

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

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

“Literally anything else.” You grumble back.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You turn away from him, shake your head.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Miri, it’s okay to have a crush–”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Huh?”

Phoenix turns her gaze upward as she thinks.

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

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

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

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

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

You quickly cut her off.

“I’m not saying anything to him!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You let out a little sigh.

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

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

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

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

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

“What do you want to do, honey?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“But…?” Jake prompts.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah…”

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

You nod, and clear your throat.

“Yeah.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Can I?”

You nod, and gesture at the whole mattress.

“Make yourself comfortable!”

–

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

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

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

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

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

It rings less than once before it connects.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Let’s get you home baby.”

–

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Permission granted, Lieutenant!”

#jake seresin #jake seresin x reader #jake 'hangman' seresin #hangman x reader #jake 'hangman' seresin x reader #jake hangman seresin x reader #top gun maverick #jake 'hangman' seresin fanfic #jake hangman seresin #top gun fanfiction

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wannab-urs · 1 year ago

Text

Title: Something Sweet

Pairing: Javier Peña x f!reader

Summary: You’re new to the team in Colombia and all alone on your birthday. Your partner, Javier Peña, decides to do something sweet for you.

Tags: Set vaguely during season 1 before Javi gets extra angsty, canon compliant-ish, reader feeling lonely, sassy!reader, flirty!javi, alcohol (wine), brief mention of a gun bc I feel like a DEA agent wouldn’t just answer the door all willy nilly, kissing, javi asking for consent, but y’all did share a bottle of wine, kissing, fingering f receiving, marking, unprotected PinV, cuddling. I always write angsty Javi, but this is FLUFF, so sorry if it’s OOC, I’m slightly out of my element here.

WC: 2107

A/N: This fic is a birthday gift for @psychedelic-ink. Sil, you’re a wonderful friend and you do so much for the Pedro Pascal Fandom community on top of being an incredible writer. So, with some help from @pedrorascal with the beautiful gifs, I schemed up a little fic for you. I hope you love it! Happy Birthday and Happy Holidays AHHHH.

Moving to a new country two weeks before your birthday, which also happens to be Christmas Eve, is not ideal. You moved to Colombia from Miami after a promotion, earning a spot on the elite team working to catch Pablo Escobar.

The last two weeks have been a whirlwind, trying to catch up on all the facts of the case. You have to learn every sicario by sight and all of their names, aliases, and frequent hang outs. You have to learn about everything Escobar has done in Colombia, all the cartels and how they connect, it’s all extremely exhausting and time consuming.

Which is why you have no friends yet, unless you count your new partners Javier Peña and Steve Murphy. Which you don’t. You barely know them, and from what you’ve seen so far, Peña is an asshole. Steve might be okay, but you just haven’t had time to get to know him yet.

You take off your windbreaker and hang it on the back of your chair. It’s kind of ridiculous that you have to work on Christmas Eve, but there’s no rest for the wicked and therefore no rest for you either. You sit down and open the first file on your desk, immediately getting down to business without so much as a greeting for your partners.

A couple hours into the work day, a shadow darkens your desk. “What do you want, Peña?”

“God damn, hermosa. Touchy today? I brought you a coffee.” Peña sets the cup of lukewarm black slop on your desk and leans further into your space, peeking at the files you’re reading.

“Yes, actually. Did you need something or did you just come over here to bother me?”

“I just came over here to compliment your nails, actually,” he takes your hand in his, inspecting your nails, and then looks into your eyes. “I like the color. Suits you.”

You feel heat rise to your cheeks. Peña is cute. Gorgeous, really, but you don’t make a habit of flirting with your coworkers. “Thanks… They were my birthday gift to myself.” You tug your hand away from him and place it in your lap.

“It’s your birthday?” He asks, still leaning much too far into your personal space. You nod and look back down at the file.

“I have to get back to work now,” you almost whisper to him, all your bitter snark from earlier replaced by a sense of melancholy. There’s not a soul in this entire country who knows it’s your birthday today. Aside from Javier, now, you guess. Javier lingers for another moment before pushing off your desk and leaving you to your work.

You’re starting to pack up for the day when Peña comes up to your desk again, sitting on the corner.

“So what are your plans tonight?” he asks.

“Huh?” You don’t have any plans. A phone call from your friend in Miami and a bottle of Chilean wine maybe.

“Your plans? For your birthday?”

“Oh. I don’t have any. Don’t really know anyone yet so…” you trail off. You feel kind of pathetic, even though you know it’s completely reasonable to not have a group of friends yet.

“Me and Murphy could take you out?”

“Oh um–”

“Actually, Jav,” Steve calls out from his desk. “Me and Connie have plans tonight. Christmas Eve and all,” he gives you an apologetic look.

“It’s fine really. I’m gonna have a nice relaxing night in. Thanks though.” You put on the best smile you can and head for the door.

You hang up the phone after your short call with your friend. It’s expensive to call long distance, but she stayed on with you as long as she could. She told you all about her new boyfriend and that everyone had wished you a Happy Birthday and Happy Holidays. You’re grateful she didn’t ask about your job or your love life.

As you pop the cork on a bottle of wine, there’s a knock on your door. You stare at the door questioningly, as if it will tell you who’s there. Who on earth could be knocking at your door at 8pm on Christmas Eve?

You grab your gun and sneak over to the door, peeking through the peephole. Broad shoulders and a dark head of hair are all you can make out through the tiny lens. Javier? You set your gun on the side table and pull open the door.

“Peña? What are you doing here?”

He turns around and holds his hands out to you. “Brought you something.” He’s holding a birthday cake, clearly store bought, decorated with a generic “Feliz cumpleaños” scrawled on top. A bright smile lights up your face.

“Oh Javi, you didn’t have to!”

“I wanted to. You gonna invite me in for some cake?” He raises his eyebrows at you.

“Oh! Yeah sure. Come in!” You step to the side to let him through and close and lock the door behind him. “Sorry about the mess. I’m not fully unpacked yet.”

“I’ve been here for 7 years and I’m not fully unpacked. It’s fine.” Javi reassures you. He sets the cake down on your kitchen counter and starts rifling around for plates and silverware.

“I can do that,” you try to move him out of the way, but he’s having none of it.

“No, it’s your birthday. Let me. You pour yourself a glass of wine and go sit on the couch.”

“Fine… thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

You grab a couple glasses and the bottle of wine and carry it to the living room with you. You’re kind of shocked he’s here. He’s always flirty in the office, but he’s like that with everyone. He’s not what you’d call friendly otherwise. Maybe he just feels bad for you.

Javier drops down onto the couch beside you holding two plates with hefty slices of chocolate cake. He hands you one of the plates and a fork. “Happy birthday. I’m not going to make you do the whole candle thing.”

“Thank you, Javier. This is really, really nice.” You feel like you might cry. It’s just cake, but you felt so alone, and it’s like he really saw you. He saw through whatever exterior shell you were wearing and decided to try to make your day better.

“Just Javi is fine. And it’s not a big deal, really. You deserve something sweet on your birthday,” he says looking down at the cake in his hands.

“It is to me. A big deal, I mean,” you say softly before taking a bite of the cake. It’s nothing special, just a plain chocolate cake, but it means so much to you.

You and Javier, Javi, chat about where you’re from and how you came to work for the DEA. You tell him about living in Miami, about the promotion that brought you here. You finish the bottle of wine and a couple more pieces of cake and the conversation doesn’t stop for a long time.

Late in the evening, you finish a story about your 6th birthday, one your aunt always told to the whole family every single year at your birthday dinner. He’s sitting close to you, his thigh pressed against yours despite there being plenty of room on the couch to sit without touching. It makes your heart flutter a little.

You don’t know if it’s the wine or what, but the little crush you have on him is getting pretty hard to ignore. Javi smirks at you, reaches up, and brushes his thumb over the corner of your lip.

“Got a little icing there, cariño,” he says, his voice lower and huskier than it has been all night. He brings the icing smeared thumb to his mouth and sucks it between his lips. Your eyes track the movement, pupils blowing wide. He really is pretty.

You feel yourself lean in toward him, almost unconsciously chasing that thumb to his mouth. He brings his hand up to your cheek and searches your eyes for a moment. He must see what he was looking for because he pulls you closer and presses his lips to yours.

His lips are soft, warm, gentle on yours. You grab his face in your hands, not wanting him to pull away yet. He slips his tongue along the seam of your lips and you part them, letting him in. You’re not sure who makes the move, but slowly, your back is lowered to the couch, Javi a comfortable weight on top of you. Your hands explore his broad shoulders, the muscles of his back, his trim waist, as he plunders your mouth with his tongue.

“Can I touch you?” He rasps against your lips.

“You already are,” you giggle. “Sorry. Yes, Javi.”

He huffs a laugh into your mouth and slips a hand into your lounge pants, fingers finding your dripping seam. “Wet for me already, hermosa?”

Your cheeks heat up in slight embarrassment, but you nod. You’re soaked just from kissing him. By the feel of him against your thigh, he’s not better off. He pushes two fingers inside you and presses his lips back to yours. You gasp into his mouth, hands fisting in the back of his shirt.

His fingers immediately find the spongy spot deep in your core. He curls them, dragging the pads of his fingers along your g-spot with every pump of them inside you. You cling tightly to him, burying your face in his shoulder.

“Come for me, baby.”

Your body responds to his command instantly, the tension in your belly releasing into waves of pleasure. Your cunt flutters around his fingers and you whine into his neck as he works you through it. You collapse back onto the couch, and he wastes no time dragging your pants off you.

You hear the clink of his belt opening, the sound of it hitting the floor. You sit up on your elbows to watch him as he strips off the rest of his clothes. You bite your lip, drinking in the sight of the gorgeous man before you.

He takes your hands in his and pulls you to your feet before pulling your tank top off you. “Shit, hermosa,” he whispers almost reverently as he takes one of your tits in his large hand, rolling the nipple between two fingers. “Gorgeous.”

He kisses you again, wrapping his strong arms around your body and pushing his chest flush with yours. “Bedroom, cariño?”

You walk him back to your room, barely separating your lips from his for the entire journey. You fall back on your bed and he follows, settling between your legs. His lips drag down your jaw line to your neck as he lines himself up with your entrance. Javi sucks a mark just below your collarbone as he slowly thrusts inside you.

You wrap your legs around his hips and pull him deeper into you, whining at the stretch. “Fuck, Javi.”

“Working on it, cariño,” he teases as he bottoms out inside you. He pushes himself up on his elbows and stares into your eyes as he pulls out and thrusts back in smoothly. Your mouth falls open, a little huff spilling out as he bottoms out again. He feels so fucking good inside you.

Javi sets a steady pace, thrusting into you hard and slow, eyes never leaving yours. When your eyes flutter shut and your back starts to arch in pleasure, he slips his arm under your back, pulling your hips higher on his thighs. The new angle is everything. You gasp out a moan every time his cock punches deep inside you.

Javi is everything in this moment. Your world narrowed to the feeling of his cock pounding into you at that same maddeningly slow, hard rhythm. You feel yourself tightening around him, feel a coil winding in your belly tighter and tighter.

Javi’s lips find yours again with a kiss that’s more a clash of teeth and tongues than anything as you come hard on his cock. Javi lets out a low groan into your mouth at the way you squeeze him. He thrusts into you a few more times, fucking you through your high, before he quickly pulls out and spills all over your belly.

He rests his forehead on yours for a moment, catching his breath. He kisses you deeply one more time before falling to the bed beside you. Javi pulls you into his arms, not paying any mind to the mess he made on your stomach. He holds you close, kissing the top of your head.

“Happy Birthday, cariño.”

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luveline · 1 year ago

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kiss over the interweb with sirius! him and reader have been together for awhile maybe since they were like 18/19 and them and being still super in love foreva! cliche couple loveliness

tysm for requesting ♡ fem!reader, 1k

Sirius' hair looks blue-black in the light. His smile shines mega watt gorgeous and his laugh bounces between pint glasses and plates of half eaten dinner. He's at the head of a long, long table, his friends and friend's friends turned out for a celebration of him. You aren't half as loud nor confident, but when he insisted you sit squished beside him, you couldn't say no.

"Where the hell have you been?" he questions, grabbing your waist as soon as you walk close enough. Any conversation he led swiftly pauses. "This is the worst birthday ever, babe, you keep disappearing."

Sirius has kept you within arm's reach for the last five years and it doesn't matter, he yanks you into his lap and kisses your cheek, careful not to mess with your makeup. His hand slides down to your hand where he twists your engagement ring around your finger. You're happy to get married but you're not in any big rush. Sirius, on the other hand, is desperate to get you down the aisle. Has been for years.

"Can't believe you're twenty four," you say, unbothered by the weight of tens of eyes on you as you take his face into your hands. You could draw him from memory. You could do it with your eyes closed. "You're finally growing into your nose."

Sirius (who, for the record, has an extremely handsome nose), beams at you. "You love this nose."

"I do." Sorry to his friends, but you share a gross, amazing kiss right then and there.

"Is that legal?" James asks.

"No." Remus clinks his drink against James'. "Will you get me another lemonade and blackcurrant, please? My legs hurt."

Sirius laughs into your mouth as James says, "No they don't. You're just lazy today. I know the difference."

"Will you get me one anyways? Please, James, I love you."

"They're almost as in love as we are," Sirius says, encouraging you back gently. "And we're sick."

You ease off of his lap and back into your seat. You've already sectioned off the lettuce and tomatoes from your salad for his perusal, and laying on a napkin by your plate is the extra fork you asked for and they forgot to give you. "Where'd you get this?" you ask.

"That's how long you took! Finish your food, doll, before it's stone cold."

You eat your food but he keeps distracting you. Even when he's talking to people he's squeezing your thigh under the table or bringing the salt shaker closer to you. You shove your plate away when things get too cold to soldier on, dragged into a conversation with Mary sitting to your left and her girlfriend Emmeline.

Sirius has always had a good bunch of friends. He's never made you feel like an outsider when you're with them, and you think they might actually really like you. You'd hope it, after this long together.

"Sweetness," Sirius says, wrapping his arms over your shoulders heavily, "another drink? And dessert, too, what dessert do you want?" He kisses your cheek between questions, gets distracted, stops asking and just hugs you to his chest for a bit.

"This is nice, huh?" you ask quietly.

He squishes you. "I'm gonna go get you another drink and then it'll be perfect."

You check your watch covertly, and, a master of trickery, turn into his arms to blag a kiss. The funny breathless feeling of his embrace starts to bloom in your chest, alive and well despite the thousands of days spent within it. He's your other half, your found piece, and every minute with him carries a shine that refuses to waver. Things calm down, of course, but you don't doubt for a moment that Sirius is as in sickening love with you as you are with him. The honeymoon phase has lingered like the heat of a long kiss.

"Happy birthday," you say as you pull away.

"Thank you. You know, I feel very lucky. I hope you know that."

You do. And you're glad he wants to tell you but maybe not in front of so many people, which is why the restaurant staff's perfect timing saves the day. Two waitresses carry a white piece of solid plastic and atop it waits your big surprise; a birthday cake with twenty four candles, three tiers of his favorite flavours, coffee, lemon, and plain chocolate fudge. The frosting for each is real buttercream to compliment the sponge, because fondant is for losers and you know what your baby likes. The candles flicker bright as the waitresses begin to sing, and for a solid five seconds, while all his friends join in, celebrating him and him alone, he turns his head to smile at you.

His smile quickly turns to a glare. But, ever a good sport, Sirius pushes aside your plates for the cake to be bestowed and blows out the candles soundtracked by a raucous wave of cheers.

"Hip hip!" James shouts.

You wince at the sheet volume of the answering hurray, but Sirius is laughing, and that's all that matters.

"First slice for my gorgeous fiancé!" he declares. "I wouldn't be in such good spirits nor state if she weren't with me today. I love you, sweetheart."

Your cheeks flush with pride. "I love you," you say, receiving his quick kiss eagerly.

"Don't get spit on the cake, lovebirds! Bagsy the second slice."

"You can't bagsy the second slice, James, it's his birthday," Mathilde laughs.

"Look, if he wanted the second slice, he should've said. I gave him loads of time to jump in. What flavours did you get, Y/N? You know what, don't tell me. I trust your judgement."

#sirius black #sirius black x reader #sirius black x fem!reader #sirius black x you #sirius black x y/n #sirius x reader fluff #sirius black imagine #sirius black fanfiction #sirius black fanfic #sirius black fic #marauders era #marauders #sirius black drabble #sirius black scenario #sirius black oneshot #the marauders #sirius orion black

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violettduchess · 8 months ago

Text

A/N: This won the poll and it was such fun to write 💜

Clavis x Reader

Prompt: Kissing While Laughing

WC: ~560

“Where do you think you’re going? It’s about to pour!”

“Ack, Jin! My goodness, you scared me. I wanted to bathe and wash my hair but realized I don’t have any more soap. I was hoping to hurry into town and buy some quickly before it starts raining.”

“Look, the first drops are already falling. C’mon. I’ve got something you can have. Clavis gave it to me a few months ago for my birthday but I’ve never even opened it.”

“Really? Aw, you’re a lifesaver! Thank you so much!"

Half an hour later

“CLAVIS!!!!!”

“I’m here, sweet wife, but I thought you said you wanted a moment’s peace in order to— Oh......Oh my……”

“WHAT DID YOU DO?!”

“Me? I-my goodness, that certainly is……a look.”

“I borrowed the shampoo you gave Jin for his birthday and now I look like this!!!”

“You did what? Oh….oh....oh dear, my sweet lamb, my darling. W-why would you do that?”

“Clavis, stop giggling! This isn’t funny. LOOK AT MY HAIR!”

“I-It’s a most fetching shade of……what can we call it? Sunset? Marigold?”

“Clavis! IT’S BRIGHT ORANGE!! I look terrible….."

“Oh no, no my sweetheart. Don't sob. Come here, come to me. That’s right. Let your fantastic husband offer you the sweet comfort of his embrace and–ow!”

“WHY WOULD YOU GIVE THIS TO JIN?!”

“Because it's funny! Don’t tell me the notion of that ladies man suddenly having hair the color of an orangutan isn't funny!”

“I LOOK LIKE AN ORANGUTAN?!”

“No, no my dearest one. No, you don’t. Come, let’s sit on the bed. That’s right, here’s a tissue. Come here, my love. Right here, let me hold you close. Ahhhh, isn't that better?”

....Sniffle....

“Now, let’s wipe away those pesky tears from your angelic face. While it certainly is a change….I can assure you, the color will fade in a few days.”

....Sniffle.... “Promise?”

“Yes, my sweet lamb. I made it myself. I know it will. Now.......come here, Mrs. Lelouch, and let me kiss you.”

“I look like a carrot," you whisper sorrowfully, barely able to get the word "carrot" out.

Clavis bursts into soft laughter, cupping your sweet but oh so glum face in his hands, gently wiping away the last stray teardrops.

“You are a most ravishing carrot.” He presses a kiss to the corner of your eye, cradling your cheek in his palm.

“I’m a pumpkin.” But your voice is wavering with the threat of laughter, a shadow of a smile on your lips.

“You are absolutely the most alluring pumpkin that has ever existed.” His mouth is by your ear, his teeth playfully nipping at your earlobe.

“I’m a clownfish.” You can't hold back anymore and your voice breaks with laughter on the word "clownfish."

His laughter intertwines with yours, creating the melody of a happy couple. He nuzzles your damp but still extremely orange hair. “You are the most attractive, beguiling clownfish in the whole sea.”

“Oh, Clavis.” You can’t stop giggling as you shake your head. He leans forward, pressing kiss after kiss to your lips.

“My beautiful sweet potato,” he murmurs, his lips brushing yours. “My exotic tangerine.” With a gentle push you fall back onto the bed and he is above you, a tender hand brushing the bright locks away from your face, his golden eyes aglow with affection.

“My darling, my sweetheart….let me show you how very much I adore you, always and forever, no matter what color your hair may be.”

Taglist 🧡 @bellerose-arcana @alexxavicry @thewitchofbooks @aria-chikage @queengiuliettafirstlady

@redheadkittys @tele86 @dear-mrs-otome @olivermorningstar @writingwhimsey

@mxrmaid-poet @silver-dahlia @wendolrea @nightfoxqueen @myonlyjknight

@ikesimpleton @ikemenlibrary @namine-somebodies-nobody @cellophanediamond @whatever-fanfics

@justpeachyteastea @chirp-a-chirp @got7igot7family @kookie-my-little-sunshine @mastering-procrastinating

@portrait-ninja @starlitmanor-network @queen-dahlia @themysticalbeing @nightghoul381

@whitelittlebunny @chi-the-idiot @bubblexly

#ikemen series #ikemen prince #ikepri #clavis lelouch #ikepri clavis #ikemen clavis #ikemen fanfiction #ikemen fanfic #otome fanfic #violettwrites

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qrrieterisunnq · 8 months ago

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Would you be willing to write a blurb in the Berry au that is more from Jack's pov? I love your characterization and would die for a look into that. Please and thank you!

Ahh, thank you nonnie! this means so much to me! 💗🫶🏼 This is for our birthday boy! Happy 23 Jacky!! This takes place in June in Michigan, this year! It's a bit longer but I hope it's what you wanted.

strawberry girl masterlist

Jack loves parties, especially those he gets to spend in the circle of his family. Every year, when his birthday comes, mom throws him a birthday party, where his family and closest friends gather to have fun. This year isn’t different, he and his dad are out, preparing the grill, while his mom and Amara are baking and preparing everything for today.

His brothers are at an airport, picking up their girlfriends and their mutual friends.

“How’s the shoulder, J?” Jim who is sitting next to him, asks concerned looking at his arm in a brace.

“Good, it hurts when I move too fast, but good,” Jack nods, looking down at his arm. “Ara always rubbed some warm ointment on it last night that is supposed to relax the muscles and stop the pain, and gosh, it really works. I was asleep in a few minutes.” He smiles at the memory from last night, when his head rested on her chest, his good arm wrapped tightly around her body.

Jim’s smile widens when he hears the way Jack’s talking about his girl and sees his loving smile. He’s so happy for his middle son. Seeing him grow up and fall in love with an amazing girl like y/n is so special for him.

A few hours later, when everything is done and everyone is gathered in the backyard of the lake house, Jack is sitting in his room, trying to put on his shirt, since he got out of the shower. He groans in pain and annoyance, the shirt on halfway down his body, when his girl walks in the room, dressed in her yellow summer dress. Her eyes shot up at him when she heard the sound. Immediately she helps him and Jack’s heart melts at her kindness. When the shirt is on, he pulls her closer to him, kissing her full red lips.

Jack’s hands sneak around her waist, pulling her body as close as it is possible, massaging her small rolls on her hips. Jack can’t help it, he loves how soft and 0 full her body is.

“How are you doing birthday boy?” Jack smiles at her voice, his heart melting when he sees her loving expression.

“Awesome. My family is here to celebrate my birthday, and my girlfriend is looking extremely hot.” Jack grins when he sees Amara’s cheeks redden and her look grows shy.

“Thank you,” giggles leave her lips and she kisses Jack’s cheek softly. “Anyway, we have to go! Everyone is waiting for you, birthday boy!” Amara takes Jack's hand in her, leading him down to the living room, where she stops. Jack looks at her, confusion written all over his face. He opens his mouth to ask her, why had she stopped, but Amara interrupts him. “I have to blindfold you.”

Jack feels so ridiculous with the bandana over his eyes and with his girlfriend leading him out, where are his friends and family already waiting. Jack can hear Trevor laughing his ass off, probably on his ridiculous look. “Stop laughing you jackass!”

“Jack!” Amara hisses, he can only imagine her cute face in a scowl. Jack leans his head toward where he hears her voice, whispering soft sorry in her ear.

“Okay, you can take bandana off, love,” Amara whispers in his ear, pressing a soft kiss on his neck. His eyes take a moment to adjust to the light when he sees the blue one-tier cake.

“This looks so delicious and cute. Thanks, mom, Berry.” He smiles at the two women he loves in the world most. He can’t believe that they made this just for him.

After a while, everyone, on Ellen's instruction starts singing. “Happy birthday, to you! Happy birthday, to you! Happy birthday, dear Jacky, happy birthday to you!” Jack can’t help but laugh when he hears the unsynchronised singing.

“Thanks, guys!” he laughs, hugging his friends who wish him and then his family. As soon as his hands wrap around his mom, he rests his head on her shoulder. “Thank you ma, for making her feel wanted and loved in our family.” His voice which is full of gratitude, rings in Ellen's ears, her grip around his middle son’s figure.

“I love her, Jack. She’s perfect for you. Please, love her as much as you can and never leave her, okay?” she says, her voice firm yet quiet, only for him to hear.

Jack pulls away from her, turning to look at his girl who is now in conversation with his brothers’ girlfriends. “I will mom, forever.” As if Amara could sense someone was looking at her eyes wandered around until they met with his blue ones. The smile she was wearing now widens causing her chubby cheek to lift.

She excused herself, walking over to him, his eyes never leaving her gorgeous curvy figure as her hips swayed. He can’t believe how lucky he is to have Amara as his girlfriend. The most caring woman and the sexiest girl and he’s the one to have her.

His breath hitched in his throat when she flipped her hair off her shoulder, the scene playing in his mind in slow motion over and over again. “Happy birthday, baby. I’ll give you your present at night in your room.” She murmurs in his ear and places there a small kiss. He groans quietly, gripping her hips, and pulling her in.

“Oh fuck, I can’t wait for it.”

#jack hughes #nhl players #jack hughes imagine #berry x jack hughes #nhl #jack hughes fluff #strawberry!girl au #nhl hockey #jack hughes blurb #jh86 #strawberry x jack hughes #ask rez 🫶🏼#answered🫧

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littlemissmentallyunstable · 10 days ago

Text

@balladofareader

AHHHHHH HAPPY BIRTHDAYYY MIRAAA 🎉😘🥳🎂🎁🎈 I HOPE YOU HAVE THE BESTTTT DAY EVERRRR AND GET EVERYTHING YOU WANTTT YOU DESERVE ITTT GIRL !! 💘💘💘

glen powell is still not hot even on your birthday. he’s still not hot.

I LOVE YOU SO SO SO MUCHHH 🥰💕😘💓💖💘🥰😍❤️💕😘💓 WITH MY WHOLLLE ENTIREEE HEARTT EVEN WHEN YOU TORTURE ME WITH THAT ONE GIF 😒😒

SO HERE IS MY BIRTHDAY PRESENT TO YOUUUU… I HOPE YOU ENJOY

(I know you wanted a holiday fic rather than a birthday one so that’s what I wrote 🤭🤭)

title: mira’s birthday

pairing: grayson hawthorne x miranda

Fairy lights, wound around the bookshelves, twinkled brightly against the dark of the night. Mira had put them up herself whilst Grayson was out and was quite proud of how she’d managed. She didn’t exactly have a track record for being good at things like this. One time she’d attempted to put up a shelf and ended up in A&E with a sprained wrist and a concussion.

Not a fun day.

She stood back to admire her work one last time before picking up the red ribbon she’d set down on the table earlier. She’d meant to tie them in her hair this morning but had forgotten on about six different occasions. Miranda sat down and slowly weaved one through the section of hair she wanted it to. Tongue poking out of the corner of her mouth, she felt her fingers twist and turn sections of hair a ribbon so everything would sit in perfectly before she finally tied the bow. One side was done, that was the easy part, now she had to do the other side in perfect symmetry.

After three separate attempts she heard footsteps and immediately locked her eyes to the doorway. Grayson Hawthorne leant in the doorframe, gorgeous as ever, a small smile on his lips. Mira immediately bounded towards him grinning, the remaining ribbon softly falling to the floor, forgotten once again.

“I missed you,” she laughed, leaping into his arms.

Swiftly as ever Grayson caught her, spinning her around in his arms, “I was gone for two hours,” he said, setting her down.

“Two hours too long,” she replied with a soft shrug.

“Well I do apologise,” he said sincerely, before kissing her cheek gently.

Mira flushed, “you can apologise again if you like.”

Her eyes practically sparkled and Grayson obliged to her request, kissing her a second time.

“You put up fairy lights,” he commented, cocking his head towards the decorated bookshelves.

“I know,” she winked, “impressive right.”

“Extremely,” Grayson nodded.

“I didn’t even need the instruction booklet,” she told him proudly, “I just worked it out all by myself.”

“Does that mean they’re going to fall down in an hour?” he asked dryly.

“Hey!” she groaned, slapping his upper arm, though it probably hurt her more than it did him, his arm was like a rock, “that’s mean! I think I deserve another apology!”

Grayson chuckled, taking her face into his hands and kissing her lips slowly.

She meant the world to him and more. Mira had been his light in the darkest of times, the sunshine in his hurricane, the emotion through the numbness. She’d taught him how to feel again, how to love, how to be happy, how to feel free, how to let go of the demons that were driving him insane internally.

“I suppose that will have to make up for it,” she mumbled into his lips.

He grinned and continued kissing her gently. They both got lost in the moment, their chests moving up and down in a syncopated rhythm. Mira stumbled, falling into the sofa. He wasn’t fast enough to catch her this time, too distracted by her sweet taste. Slowly she pulled him down with her, continuing the kiss, but this time she made it a little slower, the movement more drawn out, lips lingering on one another’s before going into the next kiss.

He pulled away, eyeing her book, “you’re reading once upon a broken heart again?”

“Are you really surprised?” Mira laughed, brushing a loose stand of blonde back into his perfectly styled hair.

“No,” he smiled softly, his eyes mellowing as they met hers, before he went in for another soft kiss.

“It’s a good book,” she said against him.

“I’m sure it is,” he replied stiffly before pausing, “but-“

Mira quickly put her finger on his lips, stopping his from taking it any further, “No but,” she warned him sternly.

“There is a but,” Grayson said simply.

“No there’s not,” she shook her head, denying it.

“But there is!” he groaned.

“Come on Gray,” she pouted, trying to plead him with her large brown puppy dog eyes.

He turned away from them, fearing he might not be able to resist.

“But,” he sighed, “I do wish you weren’t so obsessed with that,” he paused to do air quotes with his fingers, “‘Jacks’ person.”

She folded her arms giving him a pointed stare, “I’m not!”

He quirked a questioning brow, calling out her blatant lie.

“Fine,” she rolled her eyes, “but if you read this you’d get it.”

He made a face, so Mira stuck her tongue out at him before she picked up the ribbon for her hair that she’d left before Grayson has returned. She began to try again.

“Allow me princess,” Grayson murmured softly into her ear, gently taking the ribbon from her, so the soft material rippled over the palm of her hand before transferring to his.

The bold red stood out against his pale hands, like fresh blood would in snow. Carefully he adjusted her position so her back was facing him, allowing him access to her hair. Gently, he ran tentative fingers through her curls watching as they coiled down her back. He smoothly glided the red ribbon through the strands of ebony, contorting the ribbon with loops and twists until it formed a perfect bow. Slowly, he took out the one she’d done earlier and repeated the process on the other side so they both looked equal.

“Let me look at you, princess,” he murmured, once he was finished.

Mira’s cheeks tinted a rosy pink as she turned to face him.

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispered, mesmerised.

Her cheeks glowed an even darker shade of red, now almost matching the ribbons in her hair. Shyly, she stood up and walked over to the full length mirror in the corner.

“Thank you,” she said, admiring her hair in the mirror.

He stood up and walked towards her, wrapping an arm around her waist from behind and resting his chin just over her collar bone. Grayson smiled lopsidedly as he watched her beaming. Her energy was infectious, a bubbling, shining, bursting ball of pure joy.

He silently took her hand and raised it above her head. Mira looked at him, eyebrows furrowed in confusion before Grayson spun her around. Caught off guard, laughing, she stumbled mid spin. She spiralled forwards, losing all of her balance, luckily Grayson acted swiftly, slipping his arm around her waist and catching her. He kissed the tip of her nose before helping her back up.

“I have a surprise for you,” he said.

Her eyes practically sparkled, “oooo I love surprises.”

“And,” he paused for a moment, leaving her nearly bursting with anticipation, “it involves cookies.”

“I’m sold,” she said almost immediately.

Grayson found the corners of his mouth turning upwards once again. A year ago he wouldn’t have ever imagined he’d smile as much this. Mira had found his smile again, he’d lost it at sometime he didn’t know exactly when. All he did know was the Mira had brought it back. He offered his hand to her and she gladly took it, interlocking her fingers with his.

“Follow me,” he whispered.

As they were about to leave the room, Mira’s phone buzzed and a notification banner popped up on her screen. Grayson couldn’t read the name but watched curiously as Mira picked it up to reply.

“Hang on,” she said quickly, “I have to get this.”

“Who are you talking to?” he mused.

“Nosy much,” she teased with a sweet giggle.

Grayson only shrugged in reply, “just wondering.”

“If you must know,” she said with an exaggerated sigh, “I’m talking to my friend Bella about someone very important to me.”

“And who might that be,” he asked, cocking his head to the side.

Mira’s lips stretched into a wide smile, radiating her sunshine energy to the rest of the room, “a certain lovable cowboy.”

His expression quickly morphed into something between panic and confusion. She had to bite back a laugh at the sight, usually her boyfriend was the master of masking his emotions but they were perfectly displayed on his face on this occasion. She could imagine what he was worried about. ‘A certain lovable cowboy’ could’ve been a lot of people, including his brother.

“Glen Powell of course!” she laughed.

He tried to hide a shaky sigh of relief, before his expression pinched back into some sort of disgust, “Glen Powell?”

“Yes, Glen Powell,” she nodded brightly.

He wrinkled his nose and adjusted the sleeves of his suit.

“You’re jealous!” Mira exclaimed.

“No I’m not,” he replied sharply, heat rising in his face.

She smirked failing to hide her amusement, “oh you so are!”

“I am not,” he gritted through his teeth refusing to meet her eyes.

“I can tell you’re lying,” Mira sang, folding her arms across her chest.

“No you can’t,” he said.

“So…” she replied, a glint of mischief flickering across her expression, “you won’t mind if I replay ‘The Edit’ then.”

“Put the phone down, princess,” Grayson said flatly, his face now not betraying his true feelings.

“I thought you weren’t jealous,” she challenged, narrowing her eyes at him.

“I’m not,” he deadpanned.

“So why can’t I play ‘The Edit’ then?” she responded.

“Don’t give it such an important title,” he scoffed, delicately changing the subject, “it’s an edit, not ‘The Edit’, you make it sound so important.”

Mira gasped loudly, clamping a hand over her heart, “it is important! It is ‘The Edit’! Look!”

She flicked her phone towards him, clips of Glen Powell playing and he swiftly shut the screen off.

“Fine, fine I’ll admit it,” he put his hands up in the air and rolled his eyes, reluctant to reveal the truth, “I am in fact bothered by this celebrity crush.”

Mira smiled.

“Go on,” he sighed, “say it, I know you want to.”

“I told you so,” she said softly.

“You did,” he replied.

“Don’t worry Gray,” Mira murmured, cupping his face in her palms, “I don’t think I could ever love anyone like I love you.” She brushed her lips over his slowly before finishing the sentence, “except Glenn Powell.”

His jaw hung slack as she doubled over in laughter.

“Just kidding,” she winked over her shoulder, “now you said something about cookies?”

Grayson, jaw readjusted to its normal position, softly took back her hand into his and guided her to the kitchen. He watched as her face lit up, glistening like a pearl in the centre of a clam shell. It was something he would’ve seen as so small, of such little consequence, but to her it was everything. After realising that, Grayson decided that it meant it was also everything to him too.

The table was laid with a menagerie of different piping bags, all filled with icings of every colour you could imagine. Beside them was a plate of freshly baked cookies, ready to be decorated.

Mira looked at Grayson, her eyes twinkling, “you did all of this?” she asked in a small, awestruck voice.

“Of course, princess,” he replied smoothly, pulling her back into his chest for a small hug.

She squealed in excitement, bouncing up and down, “it’s so pretty!”

“I’m glad you like it,” he beamed, removing his suit jacket in a smooth motion.

“When can we get started?” she asked him, itching to get going.

“Right now,” he winked, rolling up his sleeves, “grab a piping bag Mira.”

Eagerly, she went straight for the pink icing the cutest idea already in her mind.

Before starting his own design, Grayson took a moment to just sit back and silently observe. She would never know he was staring at her in this moment, she was far too concentrated on what she was doing. She would never know he was taking in every little detail of her movement. She would never know how much he adored how her eyebrows were pinched together, how her eyes were narrowed and focussed and how the baby hair falling into her eyes was ignored. She would never know how much he loved her, how full his heart felt in this moment, how she’d saved him in so many ways.

Reluctantly averting his eyes, he turned to his own cookie and began to work.

Mira wasn’t exactly a professional cookie decorator, but she had a steady hand with the piping bag and her design was actually replicating the idea she’d formed in her head. As she was piping she only formed more ideas for her other cookies, each getting more and more ambitious the longer she spent thinking about them. Her eyes flicked up to Grayson for a moment, she watched as he methodically manipulated the icing to give the effect he wanted. Only he could make cookie decorating serious art. She bit her lip, trying to stop her smile. She loved watching him work, so in his zone, his element. When he painted he was lost in his own world, a world where he felt liberated from all that weighed on his chest. It was nice to see him like that. Free.

She finished off the details and sprinkled on some edible glitter. She grinned proudly, leaning back to take a better look, “Mine is a masterpiece,” she announced.

Grayson looked at her and couldn’t help but smile. She had powdered icing sugar brushed over her cheek, her apron was stained with half of the rainbow and a few loose strands of hair had fallen from the ribbons down to frame heels face. She was stunning. An overwhelming feeling hit his mid chest all of a sudden, almost knocking him flat.

“I’m sure,” he murmured, gray eyes roaming over her hungrily, sucking in every last detail of beauty that she didn’t even know she had.

“Let’s see yours then,” Mira replied folding her arms across her chest in challenge, completely oblivious to the lovelorn expression on Grayson’s face.

He willed himself to look away, reluctantly analysing his decorated cookie, “I messed up the toning,” he scrunched up his nose.

She peered over his shoulder, her jaw dropping. It was like a piece of world class artwork.

“How could you correlate that with messing up,” she scoffed.

“What?”

“Like okay Picasso,” she rolled her eyes playfully, “don’t show off or anything.”

“Sorry I can’t help that I’m naturally talented,” he teased.

“Yeah and naturally modest,” she countered with a smirk.

He laughed, a real belly laugh.

“Besides didn’t you just say you messed up the toning?” Mira raised a challenging eyebrow.

Something flickered over his expression, “don’t look at that bit,” he muttered quickly.

“Honestly I have no idea what the toning is so we’re good,” she smiled, then her voice softened, “it’s amazing.”

“Thank you,” he said tenderly, wrapping an arm around her waist.

She grinned down at him, then turned back to the table, “okay, how do we make mine still look good…” she tapped her bottom lip in thought, “…ooo I know! Just don’t put yours next to mine and mine will look fine.”

“Good idea,” he winked, still teasing her.

“I mean it’s not my fault your grandfather had you have private art lessons with a fancy french artist,” Mira defended, eyeing the cookies again.

“Are you jealous, princess?” Grayson asked her, his mouth twisting into a knowing smirk as he stood up.

“Hah you wish!” she retorted, then paused, “yeah I totally am, I mean would you look at that! It’s breathtaking.”

“Like someone else I know,” he replied quietly, eyes flitting to her lips, as he placed his hands gently on her waist.

“You know,” she said slowly, almost cautiously, “I think you flirt more than Jameson.”

“Woah,” he replied quickly, “take that back.”

“Or what,” she dared to ask, in a low hum.

“Or…” he pondered, their faces inches away from each others, “I’ll hide your phone so you can’t watch that stupid edit of Glen Powell.”

Grayson expected her face to fall flat, but she barely moved a muscle. In fact, she looked slightly angry.

“One,” she said sharply, raising one finger up, “it is not stupid, it is a masterpiece. Do not insult my cowboy.”

He raised his eyebrows.

“And two,” she continued, a second finger going up, “bold of you to assume I don’t have copies of ‘The Edit’ that don’t require my phone to play them.”

“Fine,” he snapped, a rare glimmer of mischief in his eyes, “I’ll take all of your copies of once upon a broken heart.”

“Even the special editions?” she rushed.

“Especially the special editions,” he grinned wickedly.

She narrowed her eyes at him and scowled, “I’m dating an evil man.”

“It’s not my fault you’re attracted to villains,” he shrugged.

“Fine,” she grumbled, “I take it back, happy?”

“Extremely, princess,” Grayson said, pressing a sweet kiss on her temple.

Mira analysed the cookies slowly, “you know what this needs?”

“No?”

She chewed on her bottom lip in a pathetic attempt to contain her excited smile, “hot chocolate.”

Grayson would be lying if he said he was surprised. He folded his arms and leant on the counter behind him, raising a sharp blonde eyebrow, “oh yeah?”

“I think so,” she nodded enthusiastically.

“You’re not making it this time,” he deadpanned, getting the pan out.

“Okay so I burnt it once,” she scoffed, “and I’m banned completely?”

“Yes,” he replied bluntly.

“It was your fault I burnt it anyway,” Mira said, glaring at him, though her glare didn’t nearly threaten Grayson so much as it made him laugh. She was adorable.

“How was it my fault?” he asked, almost sounding offended.

“You were stood in the kitchen shirtless,” she countered, “obviously distracting me, causing me to burn it.”

“Sorry,” he replied smoothly, “I suppose I won’t take my shirt off anymore then.”

Mira’s eyes widened in panic, “that is not what I said!”

He laughed, a full laugh, kissing the top of her head, “I love you.”

“You’re lucky I still love you after that,” she said, narrowing her eyes at him, “not funny by the way.”

“I’m amused,” Grayson responded, with a smug sort of grin on his face that he seemed to have stolen from his brother.

“You’re the only one Blondie,” she scowled.

“Blondie?” he sighed, “we’ve really gone back there!”

“You pushed me over the edge today,” she responded, looking away from him.

Blondie had been a nickname she’d given to Grayson when they’d first met, initially it was used to annoy him completely, but it had melted into something of an affectionate tease.

“What toppings would you like on your hot chocolate?” he asked.

“The usual please,” she replied.

“I still think you’re mental for this by the way,” he rolled his eyes, grabbing the whipped cream, marshmallows and peppermints.

“That’s because you’re being all boring and broody with your plain semisweet hot chocolate,” she tusked, making a face as she listed his preference.

“It’s good!” he defended opting for a whiny tone.

“Oh we all know that is absolute lie!” Mira said, immediately calling his bluff.

In her eyes, anyone who liked boring flavours was a psychopath.

“Sorry I don’t want tooth decay,” he scoffed, “I mean all yours needs is a gingerbread house on top of it and voila it’ll break a record.”

“Maybe next time I will put a gingerbread house on top,” she countered, her eyes practically glittering, “at least my drink has personality!”

“It’s a drink,” he replied exasperated, “drinks don’t have personality.”

She gasped, “meanie, you are a meanie. I’m going to divorce you, take all of your money and run off to marry Glen Powell!”

“We’re not married, princess,” he reminded her in a deadpan.

“I know people who can forge me the legal documents,” she shrugged.

Grayson sighed, pouring the freshly made hot chocolate into a mug, “Gigi wouldn’t go against her own brother.”

“If I bargained with a kitten she so would,” Mira replied, “besides you forget how close we are.”

“You two spend too much time together,” he said adding the whipped cream and marshmallows, “it’s dangerous.”

“You’re such a drama queen,” she rolled her eyes.

“Me? A drama queen!” he gaped, sprinkling the crushed peppermint on top of the whipped cream.

“Please,” she scoffed, “everyone says it!”

He paused, “everyone?” he asked in a small voice, smaller than he’d intended.

“Don’t worry,” she smiled softly, “it’s a Grayson perk.”

“A Grayson perk?” he questioned, wondering if he even wanted to know.

“Mhmmm,” she nodded, humming in reply, “I made a list of things that are Grayson perks and it’s on the list.”

“Can I see said list?” he said.

“Absolutely not,” Mira snapped, shaking her head vigorously, “it’s top secret!”

“So Gigi’s seen it,” Grayson deadpanned.

“Well duh,” she rolled her eyes.

He sighed wracking his brain for what he could do to get to see this list.

“What if I buy you each a cat,” he persuaded, “will you show me then?”

Mira paused and considered the option for a second, she imagined her and Gigi getting cats from the same litter and giving them rhyming names. She smiled at the thought of another cat edition to the family but she wanted to see how far the bargain could go. She wasn’t going to give up the list that easily.

“Two cats?” she proposed, shyly flashing him a smile.

“Mira,” he sighed, running a hand through his hair, “we already have two cats.”

“They need friends!” she protested, batting her eyelashes in attempts to win him over as she followed him to the living room again.

“No more,” he said softly, passing her the hot chocolate.

“You’re boring,” she chastised, slumping down on the sofa.

He shrugged slightly, “and you’re crazy.”

“For Glenn Powell,” she winked.

Grayson’s expression went flat and the disgust was evident the gray iris of his eyes, “must you keep bringing him up?”

“Last time I promise,” Mira replied with a giggle.

Grayson turned to look at her, his gaze lingered for a moment before the words left his lips in barely a breath, “I love you.”

“Not as much as I love you,” she replied, cupping his face in her tender hands.

The grandfather clock in the corner suddenly cried out, alerting everyone that midnight had finally arrived.

“Merry Christmas Mira,” he whispered, kissing the top of her nose.

“Merry Christmas Gray,” she murmured back.

THANK YOU SO SO SO MUCHHH MIRA FOR BEING SUCH A LOVELY, AMAZING, KIND FRIEND!! I HOPE YOU FIND YOURSELF A COWBOY ONE DAY WHO TREATS YOU LIKE HIS WHOLE WORLD AND MORE 😘😘

love from bella xx

#miranda ❀#moots 💕#moot birthday fics ౨ৎ #the inheritance games #tig #grayson hawthorne #grayson hawthorne x you #grayson hawthorne x reader #grayson davenport hawthorne #the brothers hawthorne #the final gambit #the hawthorne legacy #jameson hawthorne

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spooky-bunnys · 2 years ago

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another taiju request cause I just found out something and i had this idea. So it’s canon that taiju likes sharks so imagine the reader one day showing up to his house and says he bought something special for him and go to change real quick and taiju is probably thinking something else but when the the reader walks out he’s in this cute shark onesie and starts acting like a shark and says “but that’s not all look” and pulls out a shark onesie for taiju and maybe Hakkai and yuzuha come home to see the reader and taiju acting like sharks while wearing the shark onesie and taiju start playfully chasing Hakkai while the reader is playing the jaws theme in the background

Meanwhile yuzuha is secretly recording this beautiful moment

Sorry it's so short and not exactly what you wanted. I'm writing Draken's Brother part 5. Haitani Baby Brother part 3. I'm also writing the D.L x V.K. crossover. And I'm trying to write something special for having 200 followers. But i hope you Enjoy!

Shark Attack

Taiju x Male Reader

When (Name) texted Taiju he had a surprise waiting for him at home. Yhe Black Dragons could tell their boss was excited. He was constantly checking the time on his phone. Since (Name) had gone shopping with his younger siblings. So he was excited to see what (Name) had gotten him. He wasn't going to lie. He hopes it's something "special".

His phone buzzed and Taiju almost fell over trying to get his phone out of his pocket. The gang members all sweatdropped. This was their mighty leader? When he saw it was a text from (Name) informing him they were home. The members had never seen their boss run so fast. "He does remember we have a meeting in like an hour right?" Kokonoi asked looking at his best friend who shrugged.

"He left with a smile. (Name) probably has something to do with it." Inui replied looking back at him. Kokonoi cringed. "Hey that's my cousin! I don't want to know what they're up to like that." The look of disgust and the shiver Kokonoi had as enough to explain his answer. He'd walked in on them too many times.

I mean how else are you supposed to react when you find out your cousin is EXTREMELY flexible. By walking in on your boss blowing your cousins back out on his kitchen counter. Please Kokonoi never wanted to see something like that again. But did when he got invite to swim at (Name)'s house and found his cousin preaching Taiju's name like he was a Saint in the hot tub!

Back with Taiju who had just pulled into the drive way of his and (Name)'s house. He turned off his bike and made his way inside. Expecting an empty house for his surprise but only to see both of his younger siblings playing what he guessed was a new game (Name) probably got Hakki. "I'm home" He called out. The two siblings barely looked away from the TV answering with a quiet "Welcome home."

(Name) came out of the kitchen with a new apron on. Considering Taiju ripped the other one off him last week. Taiju cringed remembering the smack and lecture he got for destroying the apron which apparently was a birthday gift from his siblings. "Babe! I wasn't expecting you to be home so soon! Don't you have a meeting soon?"

Taiju shrugged. If it meant spending more time with his (Name) he didn't care about some meeting. Inui and Kokonoi can take care of it. "I got your message that you had a surprise for me?" (Name)'s face lit up and he squealed kissing Taiju's cheek before running upstairs. Taiju confused smiled loving how happy (Name) seems to be.

It didn't take long for (Name) to return. Taiju was expecting a revealing outfit. Like maybe a crop top and those shorts Taiju has been trying to convince (Name) to get. But no. (Name) came hopping down the stairs in a full suit. A full shark onesie. Taiju froze staring at him. (Name) giggled catching his attention. "That's not all~" (Name) pulled from behind his back an even bigger shark onesie. Taiju smirked widely. God does he love him.

Bouns:

(Name): *playing jaws music from his phone*

Hakki: *running away with tear filled eyes*

Taiju: *chasing after Hakki in the shark onesie* I'm gonna eat you!

Yuzuha: *recording to sent to Kokonoi and Mitsuya*

#male reader #x male reader #tokyo revengers #tokyo revengers x male reader #taiju x male reader #taiju shiba x male reader #taiju shiba

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the-colourful-witch · 5 months ago

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Hi there I was wondering, when you started doing the Harry Potter character design series that you do in your blog, which characters did you start with and how did you decide what characters to do next and how the art project would develop?

Hiya! What a fun question, I'm glad you asked :)

Start of the Project

It started about a year ago. I was pretty art-blocked after graduating from art school. I was by myself during the summer holiday (or rather, the start of a black void that is creating your own art career, holidays are for students...). I was tired and enjoying some much-needed time off when I doodled this little punk girly on my iPad... She had pink hair and funky outfits and I thought: this is Tonks! So I posted the sketch on Tumblr. I don't even know why. I never posted sketches before, it was just an impulse.

The funny thing is, I posted (HP) stuff on Tumblr before but never really did anything with it. I had done a few Marauders portraits the winter before but that didn't prompt me to do more. It wasn't until I posted Tonks and I got some enthusiastic reactions that I thought to create more. It sparked enthusiasm in me; I wanted to explore more of these outfit sketches for HP characters. This is fun! So I did Hermione next, then Harry, then Ron. And on and on. Soon, I was taking requests and thought; 'People seem to really enjoy this! Who'd have thought my doodles turned into this?!'

After about two months, I decided to illustrate every HP character in the books (minus a few extremely obscure ones.. maybe when I get the motivation..). It will probably take a while, but after one year I've done... (takes a moment to count) 45 of them! There are so many more, so it will take a few years to get through them all, I think. Not to mention, all the other illustrations I do, too. The Triwizard portraits were fun! As well as the Weasley family portrait, the Gryffindor Quidditch team... I have a lot more stuff planned :) So, long story short: I'm going to continue for a long long time because there are too many characters to get through and I can't wait to share them all with you! How do I choose which characters to do next? That depends. Sometimes I take a request because I can't choose myself. And other times, I'm planning a few characters in a row. Like, I started with the Gryffindors in Harry's year. Dean, Seamus, Lavender and Parvati... Then a series of Slytherins, a series of Marauders. A series of Teachers, Triwizard Champions, etc. I recently did a series of every Weasley family member and finished that off with a portrait. The same with the Gryffindor Quidditch team; first all the individual characters and then a group illustration. I like doing it like that, it feels organised :)

Future Plans

As for future plans... I'm so thrilled about my plans. I feel like a child on their birthday :) I started the Owl Post Club last month, through Patreon, where I send my patrons a postcard with a Wizarding World illustration every month. I just sent off the first card and the feeling was unbelievable. I received messages that the cards arrived and they were so happy and I'm just beyond excited. I'm hoping to expand my Patreon with more fun projects like this soon. I would like for people to be able to have physical artwork and I'm working on making that possible. The Owl Post Club is just the beginning. Link to the Owl Post Club:

I hope this answered your question(s) :) I'm happy to answer more if you have any.

Magical wishes, Fleur

#askmeanything #askme #harrypotteruniverse #illustration #illustrator #hogwarts #characterdesign #gryffindor #characterdesignsheets #harrypotterdesign #characterart #harrypotterart #wizardingworldillustration #wizardingworld #wizardingworldofharrypotter #hogwarts school of witchcraft and wizardry #harrypotter #goldentrio

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jadewolf22 · 5 months ago

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Hiiiii!! Could I request a Lady Jane and Wife Reader, with some domestic fluff (at least, as domestic as Lady Jane can get if you know what I mean). Maybe something like they've been apart for a really long time hunting bounties and manage to meet up for their anniversary or sm?

Happy Anniversary

Sub!Lady Jane x Dom!Fem!Reader

Warnings: Guns, mentions of extreme violence, mentions of scars, mentions of kidnapping/hunting children, smut, oral (J recieving), thigh riding (r recieving), fingering (J receiving), strap-on (J receiving), orgasm denial, ect…

Summary: You give your lady a special gift for your first wedding anniversary.

A/n: Hi anon!! Thank you so much for the request! This is my first time ever writing for Lady Jane, so I hope I did her justice. I wasn’t sure if you wanted to include smut, but a married couple who hasn’t seen each other in a while probably wouldn’t be able to keep their hands off of each other…Word Count: 3,012

You couldn’t stop the sign that escaped your lips as you entered the threshold of your home, dropping your duffle bag and the bag of groceries you’d bought on the floor as you removed your jacket. The quaint little farmhouse that had been your childhood home was quiet, secluded by miles of dead fields and thick woodlands. You ran your fingertips over the bench along the wall, pleased to see that not too much dust had collected since your last stay. Work kept you away for weeks, sometimes months at a time and there was no one to stay and clean the place while you were gone.

Moving away from the threshold and into the living room you smiled softly, taking a moment to walk around and glance at the multitude of pictures decorating the space. Most of the ones on the walls and bookcases were from your younger years; birthdays, vacations with your parents, school activities and accomplishments, holidays and such. But it was the ones above the hearth that you loved the most. Jane, your lady and beloved partner, wasn’t one for taking many photos so there were only a few on the mantle, and you cherished each one like they were diamonds; Your first date at the shooting range, one of her birthdays at the bar, your first Valentine's Day hunting in the woods, a few engagement photos taken while you were working a job together, and one of your wedding here one the farm placed at the centre of them all. It was your first anniversary today, exactly one year of pure happiness for the two of you despite the gruesome reality of your jobs as bounty hunters.

The sound of tires against gravel drew you from your thoughts. You were sure you knew who it was but, just in case, you gripped the glock tusked into the waistband of your jeans as you moved to the window, peering out through the curtains. The sight of a gold car parking beside yours allowed you to relax, letting go of the weapon as you rushed back outside. You’d barely given Jane time to close her door before you were on her, strong, toned arms grabbing her by the waist and lifting her off the ground as you embraced the love of your life. A light chuckle left her lips, demanding that you set her down before she hugged you in return.

“I missed you, my love.” you said breathily—lifting Jane off the ground was no easy feat, despite how strong you were—kissing her gently.

“And I, you.” she returned, cracking the smallest smile.

You couldn’t have stopped the large grin that spread across your face even if you wanted to, insisting that you take her things before escorting her into the house. Jane found it quite adorable how you insisted on pampering her with even the smallest tasks, such as carrying her luggage—granted, it was only two duffle bags, one filled with her guns and extra magazines. Once inside you added your own bag to the load and headed upstairs, setting the bags down on your bed before you pulled her to you and kissed her again, this one a little deeper than the last.

“Happy anniversary, Jane.” you breathed.

“Is it our anniversary already?” she teased lightly, kissing your cheek, “My, does the time fly.”

“Indeed it does.” you agreed, moving away and beginning to unpack your bag.

Jane did the same, the two of you unpacking in a comfortable silence. You’d missed her terribly, her presence alone helping to soothe the ache that had built up after a month apart. When you were both unpacked and her guns properly cleaned and stored away the two of you headed back downstairs, putting away the groceries and preparing dinner as you talked about your most recent jobs. Yours had been easy; a couple of greens that had escaped the compound two months back, but Jane’s had been far more difficult. She’d gotten stuck with a group of yellows who’d disappeared nearly a year ago and, apparently, they had put up quite a fight. You hated it when she took the more dangerous jobs, always afraid that one day, one of them might kill her. But you knew that Jane could hold her own and, the more dangerous the job, the better the pay. A part of you felt sorry for the kids the two of you hunted, but you knew the world was safer without them. Children with supernatural powers were a recipe for disaster.

When the food was ready the two of you sat down to eat, easily falling back into the domestic pattern you’d adopted. It was easy to push the exhaustion and anxiety of your jobs when you were like this, content and at peace in your little corner of the world.

The meal was delicious, Jane's cooking far better than your own, and much more satisfying than the protein bars and canned food you lived off of while working. When you’d both finished, you took care of the dishes while Jane showered—despite how much you’d begged her to wait so you could join her. Once the dishes were done it was your turn to head upstairs, showering quickly and trading your dirty jeans and t-shirt for leggings and a tank top. Stepping out of the bathroom you found Jane stretched out on her side of the bed, damp brown hair cascading over her shoulders and a book in hand. You couldn’t help but chuckle at the sight of big-bad Lady Jane looking so utterly adorable and domestic in grey sweats and a baggy red t-shirt.

She looked up from the book before you could hide your smile, muttering, “What?” as she set it aside.

“Nothing,” you shrugged, moving towards your side of the bed, “I’m just glad you’re home. You know how worried I get when you take jobs involving yellows.”

Jane rolled her eyes at your protectiveness, mumbling, “At least they’re not reds or oranges.” sitting up as you fished through the drawer of your nightstand, producing a black box and smiling as you sat down, presenting it to her.

“Happy anniversary, my lady.”

She rolled her eyes again at the nickname, taking the box from you and opening it with a small gasp. Nestled inside was a golden glock, the handle engraved with little vines that made both of your initials.

“It’s beautiful, y/n.” she whispered, looking up at you, “Where did you even—?”

“I have a friend who specialises in engraving guns.” you explained, trying to suppress just how happy her reaction made you, “I swung by his place on my way back home… Is it safe to assume you like it?”

“I love it.” you knew she did, but hearing Jane say it aloud made you ten times happier, “My turn.”

She reached over to her nightstand, plucking a little red box off of it that you had, somehow, failed to notice earlier. A cheshire-like grin adorned her face as she handed the box to you, making you that much more excited to see what was inside. Nearly tearing off the lid, your eyes fell on the silver bracelet lying against the black velvet lining of the box. At first glance, it looked like a simple band but, upon picking it up, you noticed her name engraved on the inside. Smirking, you had her help you but the bracelet on, noticing just how snuggly it fit your wrist. You laughed, realising that her name would be temporarily branded onto your skin if you wore it for long enough—and you had no intention of ever taking it off.

“It’s perfect.” you said softly, “Thank you.”

You leaned forward and kissed her again, smiling against her lips when her hand crept up your neck to thread itself in your hair. A groan escaped you when you felt her tug at your hair, making you kiss her that much harder as you grabbed her hips and pulled her across the bed to you, manoeuvring the both of you until you were straddling her waist in the middle of the bed without breaking the kiss. Jane whimpered a little as you manhandled her, her hands moving to the hem of your tank top and pulling it up your torso. You broke the kiss just long enough for her to pull the item over your head before your lips were attacking hers again, your leggings quickly following your shirt. Sliding your hands under her shirt, you gripped the waistband of her sweatpants, removing them and her underwear in one fluid motion. Her t-shirt was torn down the middle and haphazardly tossed somewhere in the room.

You paused for a moment and sat up, marvelling at the beauty beneath you. God, she was a masterpiece. Ivory skin that seemed to glow in the dim evening light, pale freckles splattered across her chest and shoulders, icy blue eyes dark with want, thick, deep brown hair that seemed nearly black against the white sheets underneath her, and a perfectly toned body with small, perky breasts that were practically begging for attention. You growled, your lips and teeth abusing her neck and shoulders, leaving bite-marks and bruises for her to find for days after you were done with her while your hands palmed her breasts. Jane panted and squirmed beneath you, nails tearing down your back as he hand nestled itself in your hair again, tugging harshly and scratching at your scalp.

“Please, y/n—God! I need you!” she whined, bucking her hips up towards you in search of some kind of friction.

“Miss me so much you’re needy already, hmm?” you teased, your mouth replacing one of your hands as you nipped harshly at her breast, causing Jane to release a low, near pornographic moan.

She opened her mouth to argue but, at that moment you plunged two fingers deep into her cunt and whatever she was about to say was replaced with a loud, broken moan. A steady string of “Ah, ah, ah”s fell from her lips as your digits pounded into her, your mouth moving to her other breast as your hand settled on her throat, squeezing gently.

“Mh—feel so good, baby.” you muttered against her skin, slipping in a third finger when the first two began to move within her too easily.

“Mph, please y/n, harder!” she cried as she felt her cunt streatch deliciously around your fingers, her nails digging painfully into your back and scalp as your digits slammed into her walls, “Yes! God, yes— Just like that—Ah!”

You tightened your grip on her throat a bit as you sat up, groaning at the sight of her cunt taking your fingers so deep that your wedding ring disappeared when you were fully inside of her, the titanium band coming out glistening with her arousal. Her cunt clenched around her fingers, her thighs tightening around your hand as she neared her climax but, just before she could fall over the edge, you pulled away. Jane went to complain, but the way your hand squeezed her throat in warning made her go silent. You licked your fingers clean, groaning at the taste of her on your skin.

“Relax, baby. You’ll get what you want.” you assured, reaching into the drawer of your nightstand and retrieving your harness and favourite strap, “You’ve just gotta be patient.”

Jane bit her lip as she watched you attach the strap to your body. The black, 8-inch was not the largest she’d taken from you, but it was most certainly the thickest. She released a sound between a whine and a groan as you teased her with the tip, nearly screaming when you began to force it into her, your hand coming back to her throat. The silicone cock stretched her cunt to the point where Jane felt as if she was being split in two and she loved it, her body tightening as a searing heat spread through her as you buried the strap up to the hilt inside her, beads of sweat making Jane’s skin glisten. Once she gave you the go-ahead you set a harsh, ruthless pace, hard, deep strokes filling her cunt so well it was a wonder she didn’t cum right then. Your grunts and Jane’s screams filled the room and it was moments like this that you were especially grateful your house was in the middle of nowhere. No one but yourselves and the animals could hear you.

“Miss you so much, my lady,” you grunted as you thrust into her, one hand still on her throat, the other harshly gripping her hip, “Missed having your pretty little cunt stretched out around my cock—Fuck, baby, I missed you—!”

“M-missed you, t-too!” Jane stampered, her hands moving to your hips to help guide your thrusts, “Missed your touch—! M-missed you in me—Shit, y/n, please make me cum!! Wanna cum so bad—!”

“I know, baby. Just hold on a bit longer. You’re doing so well for me—” you praised as her hands moved from her hips, one grasping at the bedsheet, the other wrapping around your wrist. The black diamond on her wedding ring glinted in the light as her body jolted with each of your thrusts.

“Mmmh—Fuck, y/n! Please—please, keep going! ‘M so close—Shit, y/n! I-I’m—I’m gonna cum— pleasepleaseplease!”

“Just hold on a bit longer, baby.” you said, slowing down your movements just a bit and making Jane practically cry, “Just a bit more, my lady. You’re almost there.”

You removed your hand from her hip, sliding it down between her legs to rub gentle circles over her clit. Her whole body contracted with the added pleasure, shaking in desperate need of release.

“Y/N—!!”

“It’s okay, baby. I’ve got you. Cum for me.”

“F-f-f-FUCK—!” Jane finished with a loud scream, legs tightening around your hips, back arching off the bed. Stars exploded behind her eyes and, for a moment, she couldn’t see. Her body felt as if she were floating as she relaxed back into the mattress, brain fuzzy and her mouth numb, her throat already burning from screaming so much. You slowed down as she rode out her high, stopping completely and taking a moment to admire just how ethereal she looked like this, skin flushed and slick with sweat, her head thrown back in euphoria, eyes scrunched tight and jaw slack. Slowly so as not to jostle or startle her, you reached out and cupped her face, gently stroking your thumb against her cheek.

“You did such a good job, baby.” you praised, releasing her throat as her eyes opened, unfocused and her pupils blown out, “Come on back to me, my lady. That’s it. I’m gonna pull out now, okay?”

Jane mumbled out a hoarse, “okay” and you slowly pulled out of her, the strap coated in her release. You removed the toy from your body and threw it on top of your clothes to be cleaned later, bending over and placing gentle licks and kisses over her bruising neck as you moved to position yourself on her thigh.

“My turn.” you husked, lowering yourself onto her thigh, “You just lay back and relax, baby.”

Jane sighed when she felt your slick core against her skin, whimpering a little as you began to rock yourself against her. Watching her unravel beneath you had made you so pent up that it didn’t take you long until you were nearing an orgasm, your breath laboured and thighs shaking.

“Mm, you feel so good against me,” you groaned in her ear, leaning forward and changing her head with your arm, practically laying on top of her as you rutted against her thigh, “So perfect. And all mine.”

Jane whined, nodding frantically, heavy arms reaching up to wrap around your shoulders. WIth a final snap of your hips, you came, smearing your slick across her skin and you moaned against her shoulder. Sighing, you sat up and kissed her, your fingers dancing over her stomach.

“Think you can take one more, my lady?” you asked gently, your tone making it clear that she had the choice of saying no, “I promise I’ll be gentle.”

Jane nodded and you smiled, kissing her again as you slid down her body, levelling your face with her soaked cunt. You licked a broad stripe up her slit, placing a gentle kiss to her clit, making Jane shudder. Smiling, you licked at her folds, slowly forcing your tongue deeper inside of her, your nose brushing against her bundle of nerves. Jane whimpered above you, hands threading into your hair to keep you in place. Still recovering from her past orgasm, it didn’t take you long to bring her to the edge again.

“P-please, y/n—” Jane muttered, tears slipping down her cheeks from the overwhelming pleasure, “uh-ah! I’m-I’m gonna—!”

“Go ahead, baby.” you whispered, plunging your tongue deep inside her.

Jane came again with a shuddering moan, her release flooding your mouth and spilling down your chin. You lapped away at her release, cleaning her cunt with your tongue before moving up to kiss her again, sliding your tongue into her mouth so that she could taste herself on you.

Pulling away, you climbed off of her, grabbed the strap, and padded off to the bathroom, cleaning yourself and the toy before returning with a warm washcloth, gently cleaning her thighs and burning folds. Taking the cloth and both of your clothes you set them in the hamper, handing her the water bottle on your nightstand as you set off all the lights except for your lamp. Once she’d drunk enough you helped her beneath the covers and crawled into bed beside her, covering her body with your own.

“Happy anniversary, Jane.” you muttered, kissing the back of her head.

Jane hummed, releasing a large sigh before exhaustion overtook her and fell asleep. You smiled down at your wife, reaching behind you to shut off the lamp, welcoming the darkness as your eyes fluttered closed.

#gwendoline christie #gwendolineuniverse #larissa weems #wednesday #jane murdstone #jan stevens #miranda hilmarson #captain phasma #lady jane #anon ask #anonymous #the darkest minds

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