#if you can make any of this out i honestly applaud you this is so messy. SO MESSY

[vaspider]

In defense of retellings & reimaginings

I'm not going to respond to the post that sparked this, because honestly, I don't really feel like getting in an argument, and because it's only vaguely even about the particular story that the other post discussed. The post in question objected to retellings of the Rape of Persephone which changed important elements of the story -- specifically, Persephone's level of agency, whether she was kidnapped, whether she ate seeds out of hunger, and so on. It is permissible, according to this thesis, to 'fill in empty spaces,' but not to change story elements, because 'those were important to the original tellers.' (These are acknowledged paraphrases, and I will launch you into the sun if you nitpick this paragraph.)

I understand why to the person writing that, that perspective is important, and why they -- especially as a self-described devotee of Persephone -- feel like they should proscribe boundaries around the myth. It's a perfectly valid perspective to use when sorting -- for example -- which things you choose to read. If you choose not to read anything which changes the elements which you feel are important, I applaud you.

However, the idea that one should only 'color in missing pieces,' especially when dealing with stories as old, multi-sourced, and fractional as ancient myths, and doing so with the argument that you shouldn't change things because those base elements were important to the people who originally crafted the stories, misses -- in my opinion -- the fundamental reason we tell stories and create myths in the first place.

Forgive me as I get super fucking nerdy about this. I've spent the last several years of my life wrestling with the concept of myths as storytelling devices, universality of myths, and why myths are even important at all as part of writing on something like a dozen books (a bunch of which aren't out yet) for a game centered around mythology. A lot of the stuff I've written has had to wrestle with exactly this concept -- that there is a Sacred Canon which cannot be disrupted, and that any disregard of [specific story elements] is an inexcusable betrayal.

Myths are stories we tell ourselves to understand who we are and what's important to us as individuals, as social groups, and as a society. The elements we utilize or change, those things we choose to include and exclude when telling and retelling a story, tell us what's important to us.

I could sit down and argue over the specific details which change over the -- at minimum -- 1700 years where Persephone/Kore/Proserpina was actively worshiped in Greek and Roman mystery cults, but I actually don't think those variations in specific are very important. What I think is important, however, is both the duration of her cults -- at minimum from 1500 BCE to 200CE -- and the concept that myths are stories we tell ourselves to understand who we are and what's important to us.

The idea that there was one, or even a small handful, of things that were most important to even a large swath of the people who 'originally' told the store of the Rape of Persephone or any other 'foundational' myth of what is broadly considered 'Western Culture,' when those myths were told and retold in active cultic worship for 1700 years... that seems kind of absurd to me on its face. Do we have the same broad cultural values as the original tellers of Beowulf, which is only (heh) between 1k-1.3k years old? How different are our marital traditions, our family traditions, and even our language? We can, at best, make broad statements, and of inclusive necessity, those statements must be broad enough as to lose incredible amounts of specificity. In order to make definitive, specific statements, we must leave out large swaths of the people to whom this story, or any like it, was important.

To move away from the specific story brought up by the poster whose words spun this off, because it really isn't about that story in particular, let's use The Matter of Britain/Arthuriana as our framing for the rest of this discussion. If you ask a random nerd on Tumblr, they'd probably cite a handful of story elements as essential -- though of course which ones they find most essential undoubtedly vary from nerd to nerd -- from the concept that Camelot Always Falls to Gawain and the Green Knight, Percival and the grail, Lancelot and Guinevere...

... but Lancelot/Guinevere and Percival are from Chrétien de Troyes in the 12th century, some ~500 years after Taliesin's first verses. Lancelot doesn't appear as a main character at all before de Troyes, and we can only potentially link him to characters from an 11th century story (Culhwch and Olwen) for which we don't have any extant manuscripts before the 15th century. Gawain's various roles in his numerous appearances are... conflicting characterizations at best.

The point here is not just that 'the things you think are essential parts of the story are not necessarily original,' or that 'there are a lot of different versions of this story over the centuries,' but also 'what you think of as essential is going to come back to that first thesis statement above.' What you find important about The Matter of Britain, and which story elements you think can be altered, filed off or filled in, will depend on what that story needs to tell you about yourself and what's important to you.

Does creating a new incarnation of Arthur in which she is a diasporic lesbian in outer space ruin a story originally about Welsh national identity and chivalric love? Does that disrespect the original stories? How about if Arthur is a 13th century Italian Jew? Does it disrespect the original stories if the author draws deliberate parallels between the seduction of Igerne and the story of David and Bathsheba?

Well. That depends on what's important to you.

Insisting that the core elements of a myth -- whichever elements you believe those to be -- must remain static essentially means 'I want this myth to stagnate and die.' Maybe it's because I am Jewish, and we constantly re-evaluate every word in Torah, over and over again, every single year, or maybe it's because I spend way, way too much time thinking about what's valuable in stories specifically because I write words about these concepts for money, but I don't find these arguments compelling at all, especially not when it comes to core, 'mainstream' mythologies. These are tools in the common toolbox, and everybody has access to them.

More important to me than the idea that these core elements of any given story must remain constant is, to paraphrase Dolly Parton, that a story knows what it is and does it on purpose. Should authors present retellings or reimaginings of the Rape of Persephone or The Matter of Britain which significantly alter historically-known story elements as 'uncovered' myths or present them as 'the real and original' story? Absolutely not. If someone handed me a book in which the new Grail was a limited edition Macklemore Taco Bell Baja Blast cup and told me this comes directly from recently-discovered 6th century writings of Taliesin, I would bonk them on the head with my hardcover The Once & Future King. Of course that's not the case, right?

But the concept of canon, historically, in these foundational myths has not been anything like our concept of canon today. Canon should function like a properly-fitted corset, in that it should support, not constrict, the breath in the story's lungs. If it does otherwise, authors should feel free to discard it in part or in whole.

Concepts of familial duty and the obligation of marriage don't necessarily resonate with modern audiences the way that the concept of self-determination, subversion of unreasonable and unjustified authority, and consent do. That is not what we, as a general society, value now. If the latter values are the values important to the author -- the story that the author needs to tell in order to express who they are individually and culturally and what values are important to them* -- then of course they should retell the story with those changed values. That is the point of myths, and always has been.

Common threads remain -- many of us move away from family support regardless of the consent involved in our relationships, and life can be terrifying when you're suddenly out of the immediate reach and support of your family -- because no matter how different some values are, essential human elements remain in every story. It's scary to be away from your mother for the first time. It's scary to live with someone new, in a new place. It's intimidating to find out that other people think you have a Purpose in life that you need to fulfill. It's hard to negotiate between the needs of your birth family and your chosen family.

None of this, to be clear, is to say that any particular person should feel that they need to read, enjoy, or appreciate any particular retelling, or that it's cool, hip and groovy to misrepresent your reworking of a myth as a 'new secret truth which has always been there.' If you're reworking a myth, be truthful about it, and if somebody told you 'hey did you know that it really -- ' and you ran with that and find out later you were wrong, well, correct the record. It's okay to not want to read or to not enjoy a retelling in which Arthur, Lancelot and Guinevere negotiate a triad and live happily ever after; it's not really okay to say 'you can't do that because you changed a story element which I feel is non-negotiable.' It's okay to say 'I don't think this works because -- ' because part of writing a story is that people are going to have opinions on it. It's kind of weird to say 'you're only allowed to color inside these lines.'

That's not true, and it never has been. Greek myths are not from a closed culture. Roman myths are not sacrosanct. There are plenty of stories which outsiders should leave the hell alone, but Greek and Roman myths are simply not on that list. There is just no world in which you can make an argument that the stories of the Greek and Roman Empires are somehow not open season to the entire English-speaking world. They are the public-est of domain.

You don't have to like what people do with it, but that doesn't make people wrong for writing it, and they certainly don't have to color within the lines you or anyone else draws. Critique how they tell the story, but they haven't committed some sort of cultural treachery by telling the stories which are important to them rather than the stories important to someone 2500 years dead.

****

*These are not the only reasons to tell a story and I am not in any way saying that an author is only permitted to retell a story to express their own values. There are as many reasons to tell a story as there are stories, and I don't really think any reason to create fiction is more or less valid than any other. I am discussing, specifically, the concept of myths as conveyors of essential cultural truths.

[geotjwrs]

Tall Male!R (preferably around 6'6"/198cm or more) playfully teasing Jenna Ortega for being short ;P

shorty

Pairings ; Jenna Ortega x Male!Reader

Warning/s ; none

Jenna and Y/N sat side by side on the plush couch, facing a lively audience and the charismatic talk show host, Emily. The interview had been going well, with both stars sharing insights about their latest project. The chemistry between them was palpable, drawing smiles and laughs from everyone present.

Emily leaned forward, her eyes twinkling with curiosity. "So, Jenna, Y/N, you two have become quite the talk of the town—not just for your amazing performances, but also for your adorable relationship. How do you manage to keep things light and fun on set?"

Jenna exchanged a quick, knowing glance with Y/N. "Well," she started, a playful grin spreading across her face, "it helps that we don't take ourselves too seriously. Especially when someone here," she nudged Y/N with her elbow, "loves to tease me about my height."

Y/N chuckled, his deep voice resonating through the studio. "What can I say? When you're 6'6" and your girlfriend is just over 5'1", it's hard to resist."

The audience laughed, and Emily raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "Do tell, Y/N. How do you go about teasing her?"

Y/N leaned back, his smile widening. "Oh, it's all in good fun. Like the other day, Jenna was trying to reach something on the top shelf in the kitchen. I offered to help, but she was determined to get it herself."

Jenna chimed in, rolling her eyes but smiling. "I was almost there, and then he comes up behind me, pretending to use me as an armrest. I was like, 'Really? Right now?'"

Emily laughed along with the audience. "That must make for some interesting moments."

"Oh, definitely," Jenna agreed. "But it's not just him. I get my fair share of teasing in, too."

Y/N nodded, mock-serious. "She's got a wicked sense of humor. Like, she'll hide my stuff where only she can find it. I once spent an hour looking for my phone, only to find it in one of her tiny shoes."

The audience erupted in laughter, and Jenna grinned proudly. "Hey, you have to get creative when you're the short one."

Emily's eyes sparkled with amusement. "It sounds like you two balance each other out perfectly. Any more funny stories?"

Jenna thought for a moment. "Oh, there was this one time we were filming a scene, and Y/N had to pick me up. He lifted me so high that I almost bumped my head on one of the stage lights. The director had to remind him to keep it grounded."

Y/N shrugged, laughing. "What can I say? I forget my own strength sometimes."

Emily leaned in, her tone conspiratorial. "Okay, but seriously, what's the sweetest thing about being with each other, despite the height difference?"

Y/N's expression softened as he looked at Jenna. "Honestly, it's the little things. Like when Jenna stands on her tiptoes to kiss me, or when she snuggles into me perfectly because of our height difference. It's those moments that make it special."

Jenna's eyes glistened as she smiled up at him. "And for me, it's feeling protected and cherished. Plus, I get to have the best hugs."

Emily sighed dramatically, her hand over her heart. "You two are just too sweet. Any plans for future projects together?"

Y/N nodded. "We're looking at a couple of scripts. We really enjoy working together, so we're hoping to find something that lets us continue doing that."

"Well, we can't wait to see what you two do next," Emily said, beaming. "Thank you so much for joining us today and sharing your delightful stories."

As the interview wrapped up, Jenna and Y/N stood, their height difference once again evident as Y/N helped Jenna down from the couch. The audience applauded, clearly charmed by the couple's dynamic.

Walking off stage, Jenna glanced up at Y/N, her eyes twinkling. "You know, I think we aced that."

Y/N grinned, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. "Of course we did. We're a perfect team."

Backstage, the couple found a quiet corner to relax. Jenna nestled comfortably under Y/N's arm, feeling the comforting weight of his presence. Their public appearances were always fun, but it was these quiet moments together that Jenna cherished the most.

"You know," Y/N said, breaking the silence, "one of my favorite things about these interviews is how they always make us reflect on all the fun we have."

Jenna nodded, smiling. "Yeah, and it's nice to share those moments with everyone. Plus, it gives us a chance to tease each other publicly."

Y/N laughed, his eyes twinkling with mischief. "True. And speaking of teasing, remember when you tried to scare me on set by hiding behind a door? I heard you giggling before you even jumped out."

Jenna burst into laughter. "I couldn't help it! Your reactions are just too funny."

Y/N shook his head, smiling fondly. "Well, you definitely keep me on my toes."

Just then, a production assistant approached them. "Great interview, you two. There's a press conference in an hour, and then you're free for the rest of the day."

"Thanks," Jenna said, glancing up at Y/N. "You ready for round two?"

"Always," Y/N replied, giving her a quick squeeze. "But after that, how about we grab some lunch? I'm thinking of a place with chairs that don't make me feel like I'm sitting in kindergarten."

Jenna laughed. "Sounds perfect. And maybe a place where I don't have to ask for a booster seat."

Y/N chuckled, standing up and offering his hand to Jenna. "Deal. Let's get through this press conference, then it's lunch date time."

As they walked hand in hand towards the next part of their day, Jenna felt a warm glow in her heart. Despite the public scrutiny and their busy schedules, she knew they always made time for each other, balancing their playful teasing with deep affection. And as long as they had that, she knew they could handle anything together.

[accio-victuuri]

i was supposedly gonna address this by end of month and with my april candy round up but i think might as well do it now. only because it is being shared primarily on international platforms and i feel the need to put out this reminder. i wouldn’t even dream about controlling how one chooses to participate in this fandom but sometimes people need a wake up call.

so, there has been a video going around of GG filming Legend of Zanghai and there is a staff there that people are saying is WYB. it showed this person talking to GG while he is on standby and shooting etc. first of all, these two are notoriously good at hiding and being professional in their workplace. especially now. i doubt they will flaunt each other on set with one acting like a PA for the other. not only that, they both hate to cause any disturbance on set or have unnecessary eyes on them — much worse, gossip, so this is a no.

and in the very low chance that it is WYB or that whatever rumor we have of XX visiting XXX on set is true, the last person who should be outing their secret meetings shouldn’t be turtles. if there is one thing i really miss from the beginnings of this fandom is how much people protected them. even if at times we became obnoxious, you know that the reason is because we wanted to keep them safe. nowadays, i feel like more turtles don’t even care at all. they will show off anything to prove a point. but at what cost? seriously, how far would you go? how much disregard for their rights as human beings will you allow?

which leads me to the main problem here: sharing leaks. i personally sometimes can’t avoid it, especially on weibo cause it depends on who you follow, it will come up. or worse, the leaked videos/photos goes on hot search. xz has been very vocal against proxy shooting for this project so idk why some turtles continue to disrespect his wishes. it’s one thing to see it accidentally, but for international fans to share it and then make it out to be this “scandalous” video proof is so questionable. what makes them different from professional weibo paparazzis who out celebrity couples? who follow them in their homes and even their parents? how are they different from ss who put trackers on their cars and obsess over their personal itinerary? it’s so sus to call yourself a fan who care about them but applaud this kind of behavior. these kind of fans honestly don’t see xz and wyb as people. leave them the fuck alone. i don’t think i can stress that enough. let’s speculate all we want from the materials they willingly give us and try not to make it harder for them to live their personal lives.

i understand how material like that can make someone happy and affirmed but think about them first.

and if you are someone who needs solid video proof to support the boys and be on the bjyxszd train, then please leave this fandom now. i can tolerate alot of behaviors but never ones that endanger them like this. this need for constant validation is dangerous. it’s their relationship, not ours. they are real people and not fictional characters.

[gay-dorito-dust]

I heard you are looking for Barbie prompts👀👀

1. Ken learning to kiss (he's never done it before lol)

2. FtM reader struggling, Ken helps him realize he's just as much of a man as anyone else

3. Ken asking for advice on winning over Barbie, only to fall for reader

4. Ken revealing his struggle with toxic masculinity and his shame

God so many amazing prompts, I wish I could write them all but I don’t wanna bore anyone with how long of a fic that would be. So if anyone wants me to do the other prompts (1, 2, or 4) plz let me know.

Prompt 3: Ken asks for advice on how to win over Barbie, only to fall for reader in the process.

You cringed as another one of Ken’s failed attempts of impressing stereotypical Barbie. You had to applaud your friends’ tenacity because had it been you, you would’ve just given up in the moments where Ken had done nothing but persist in his pursuit of the beautiful blonde. You honestly didn’t a clue in whether or not it’ll do Ken any good in telling him that he would be better off in giving up, or it’ll just further persuade him into trying even harder in his efforts in a desperate form of hope that one day she’ll see him. Like actually see him.

Whatever the outcome, you knew that not matter what was being said by anyone, Ken was one to never know in when it’s okay to quit. His supposed advancements weren’t advancing anything in regards to his and Barrie’s relationship; they were still on square one in your humble opinion, as it was quite blatantly obvious that Ken needed Barbie like she was the oxygen he breaths but Barbie didn’t need Ken, she could very well breath happily without him.

Quickly seeing how you and Ken were the only ones left upon the peachy pink beach, you sighed as you made your way next to your blonde friend -who was very much in the literal sense lying face down within the sand- before sitting yourself down next to him with your knees propped up so that your arms may rest atop of them, followed softly after by your head feasting atop of your arms as you stared out beyond the horizon.

‘Well, that certainly went off without a hitch, didn’t it blondie.’ You said rhetorically whilst Ken groaned as he removed himself from the sand before practically slumping himself against your side.

‘First of all, my names Ken, not blondie, and secondly what is it that I’m doing wrong?’ Ken said, ‘I’d thought that she would totally be girlfriend/boyfriend with me by now but it seems that no matter how many times I’ve tried to make her see the man behind the tan, the more she doesn’t want me…what do I have to change about me to get her to admit that she likes me?’ He adds solemnly before looking over at you with a look of sheer desperation and hopelessness. ‘Tell me what it is that I have to change about myself in order to make Barbie see me.’ He asked of you, making you look his way as he grabbed your hands in his, almost like he was pleading to you to hear him. ‘Tell me what to change and I’ll do it, tell me what will make her see me as more Ken the boyfriend then Ken the friend.’

You stayed silent for awhile as you made the conscious choice to stare into his beautiful cerulean blue eyes that looked almost midnight blue with how they perfectly mimicked the starry sky above, or how they perfectly encapsulated the deepest depths of the very ocean he often -though not that often as he liked to claim- surfed. It was without saying that the Ken before you, your best friend Ken, was probably the most beautiful Ken you’ve ever come across, and while it’s not uncommon for friends to hype up the others beauty; there was obviously lines in the sand in regards to how far one can speak so highly of another’s appearance without it having somewhat romantic implications.

Upon realising how long you had been inside your own head, whilst externally just staring at him like a weirdo, you began to talk. ‘Here’s one thing you can stop doing and that’s going to extreme lengths to impress her.’ You told him, watching as his face slightly drop before feeling a panic consume you into continuing soliciting your advice, ‘I’m not saying you should cut it out all together but maybe tone it down a little, nobody here wants you to end up badly hurt yourself one day. Besides I think it’d be best if you just let her see the so called ‘man behind the tan.’ You added on as you pulled one hand of yours away from Ken’s hold in order to press it against his chest; more specifically where his heart lies. ‘Show Barbie the Ken that I know and love, the Ken who isn’t above helping others, the Ken who loves horses despite never having ridden one, the Ken who loves the beach, the Ken who loves his friends and will go above and beyond for them.’

You paused before trailing your hand upward so that it was now resting behind his neck, your thumb running across his skin in soothing patterns as you smiled at him, causing Ken to take a sharp inhale of breath. ‘You don’t have to change Ken, I don’t want my best friend to change for someone who won’t realise how lucky she is to have you in her life Ken.’ You utter softly before adding, ‘because I am and I prefer you the way you are right now, but I’m not the one your perusing and therefore I have no say in who you change for, just hope that you never do.’ You hauled yourself onto your feet before making your way off of the beach and back to your home, leaving Ken to stare after you in wonder and in awe.

‘Have I? Have I been going after the wrong person?’ Ken asked himself as thoughts of Barbie quickly became thoughts of you instead and the feeling that usually blossoms within him for Barbie, seemed to have only blossomed more then ever in regards of when it came to you. Naturally Ken was conflicted about the sudden change, wasn’t he suppose to be with Barbie? Then why did the notion of being your boyfriend felt more natural, more likeable then being Barbie’s boyfriend? He couldn’t understand how after perusing Barbie for as long as he has, his heart and mind have seemingly made peace with the fact that she wasn’t even at all interested in him, just as they were immediate in their change of trajectory and instead decided to set their sights on you after this particular night on the beach, and engaging within a conversation that relied on him to being open and honest about his feelings.

Ken just couldn’t understand why he felt so breathless when you smiled at him not too long ago, it felt as though you knocked the wind clear out of his lungs and he was still struggling on getting it back the more his mind stayed stuck on that particular moment. Ken was afraid to admit that he had fallen for someone new, but a small part of him was telling him that he had fallen for you way before the events that lead up to tonight’s conversation, telling him that it was no longer Barbie he was trying to impress but you.

[sabcandoit]

as you wish was an AMAZING fic!! ! i applaud to you :] for requests, i wass hoping you'd accept one where reader wears a pretty dress for Noir?? it can be either smut or fluff honestly!! or a little bit of both.

hope you have a lovely day!!

Thank you! Here it is!

DESIRE

Spiderman Noir x Fem reader

Summary: The reader "puts on a pretty dress" and they go to a party for a friend of Peter's. As the night progresses, Peter finds himself unable to keep calm around you, overcome with lust, and overall he's just really entranced by your looks <3

Warnings: Fluff! No actual smut this time, but they get close haha. Its a good mix of both of you "taking control" here and there.

A/N: Thanks for all the love on my first fic, "As You Wish"! I love making these and it's great to see so much support! Also I cant help but imagine Gregory Peck as Noir lmao. He's so handsome too. My requests are open too, so don't be shy! Enjoy!

 “It's time to leave now darling!” Peter announced from the living room. You were in the bathroom, still trying on earrings and other jewelry.�� You had no need to get so dressed up to show stop Peter with your looks, it didn't take much effort. He never stopped calling you “Beautiful” or “Lovely” even when you were in the laziest outfit and hadn't put any makeup on or done your hair. Now here you were, stalled in your mirror trying to look as perfect as can be simply for the fun of it. You were going out anyway, to a birthday ball of sorts, and would have others looking at you.  

You sported a dark red evening gown with straps and a mid-length v-neck cut, just long enough to show a small amount of cleavage. The back was zippered up and it cinched in perfectly at your waist. The fabric ran smoothly down from there, the skirt long and flowy. You had done your makeup with a fine red lip and a fancy updo, swept up and braided. The shorter pieces of hair that fell out were styled in a wavy, brushed-back look and pinned up. Simple gold earrings and a thin chain gold necklace adorned your body as well as equally delicate gold bracelets. Peter got you this set which surprised you. It was expensive and dainty, not the sort of thing he would especially pick out for you, but it stood out to him as something that would look beautiful on you. You were all ready, you just needed to grab your heels, handbag, and coat.

 As you exited the room, you saw Peter, dressed in a black suit and a black bowtie. His hair was slicked back, bits of it undone and curled on his forehead. He was putting on his black trench coat in the foyer when he saw you. His lips parted for a moment as his gaze settled. “Oh…” he said with a sort of delighted inflection. You smiled, looking down as you grabbed your shoes and put them on clumsily, chuckling softly. He smiled at you too, watching. As you returned, you grabbed your red handbag and a long black trench coat that matched Peter's. “Ready to go Spiderboy?” you giggled as his loving stare never dissipated. “Oh yes.” he snapped out of it. He was flustered and you were proud of it, yet you had to act oblivious. He fixed his black gloves on, stretching his long fingers out. 

“You look beautiful.” he stepped close to you, putting a hand on your back. “Thank you,” you responded as you both walked out of the doorway, grabbing his hat before leaving. You just grinned up at him lovingly. A gentle hand led you both to the car. He opened the passenger door and stepped back, outstretching a hand, “Sit love”. You nodded your head as you stepped in. He closed the door and walked over to his side and sat down, starting the old black Ford. As he drove to the party, you both listened to the quiet radio playing through the dark night. You could cut the tension with a knife, it was so thick even though the silence between you too was welcomed and comfortable. You both stole little glances and would smile when you caught each other. 

Peter finally was the one to speak up, “Have I commented on your dress yet?” he chuckled handsomely. “It’s irresistible on you, doll.” One of his gloved hands reached out and grasped gently on your thigh. You blushed as he caressed it more, saying in a lower voice, “I may not be able to control myself.” You only blushed more. “Peter…” you sighed. “Not now, love” you spoke again. His hand didn't leave your thigh but he did shut up, tensing his other hand on the wheel. 

You both now arrived at the party. Peter stepped out of the parked car and approached your door. As he opened it and you stepped out, you smiled at him. He straightened up, slightly flushed as he put his hand on your lower back again. He couldn't help but stare down at you, your body, and the dress. The jewelry! How could he not have noticed? “I see you're wearing the gold I got you,” he whispered enticingly in your ear as you both walked into the extravagant building, red carpet to greet them and all. “Oh yes, you finally noticed!” you teased, wrapping your arm around his, lightly touching his side in the process, making him gasp. Looking down at you, he saw your eyes looking intently back at him. “Handsome,” you mumbled, looking back down as you walked. He looked in front of himself, trying to keep his composure, your compliment almost melting him right there. As the escorts opened the building doors, the party was huge and bright. People were all over drinking and talking. Of course, you were here for one of Peter’s friends. You walked more in and eventually saw some people you recognized. As you dragged Peter to talk with others, he stayed suspiciously quiet. Maybe something was wrong? Was he not feeling well?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~*********~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

NOIR’S POV:

That dress. Her in it. She’s too gorgeous for her own good. These men around us, are they all looking at her? If only they knew the things I would do to them if they laid a hand on her or said something even slightly inappropriate.

 I could care less about the people we are talking to, I just want to be with her, alone. Give her all the compliments I want. Tell her all of the things I want to do to her… I can't keep up with this anymore, yet we still have to wish my friend a happy birthday. But look at her body, the dips and curves, her smile and laughter. It's enough to make a grown man crumble. And that jewelry set I gave her, it makes her look only more ravishing. How I wish I could unclasp that necklace and slip off that bracelet… kiss the places where they once were… make her blush and fluster. Ah, the things I would do for this woman.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~*********~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Oh, well I'm not sure that's how it went!” you chuckled, conversing about memories with an old friend. “It had to be!” your friend laughed back. As you both smiled and talked more, Peter’s hand touched yours. Perhaps it was accidental? It now fully grasped yours and you could feel his intense need. Now this was not accidental. You tried to listen to your friend's stories but couldn't focus, his hand was treading down your arm and playing with your dress.

 “Darling,” he leaned down to your ear and whispered, “I'm afraid we must leave.” Your eyes widened as you looked up at him with a sort of offended look. “Peter…” you stammered, looking into his lust-filled eyes. “Peter, we can't leave yet.” “Ah, forget about that.” one of his arms was now wholly wrapped around your waist possessively as he interrupted the conversation around you. “Excuse me, but my lady and I must be going. We have somewhere to go early in the morning and you know how hard it can be when you don't have a full night’s rest.” he chuckled with his free hand in the air. 

They all bid you goodnight as Peter led the way out into the parking lot. He walked slightly in front of you, holding your hand. You stopped, saying, “Peter, that wasn't very kind to the hosts. After all, you were the one they wanted to see”. He turned around and put one hand on your hip and the other on your cheek, pulling you in. He kissed slowly and passionately like he had been waiting for this. As you parted, you stood, out of breath. “Well…” your hands now up in front of your chest. He smirked down at you. It took you a moment to let go of his gaze, you needed to show him how he couldn't affect you like that. As you left his hold, a hand of yours lingered on his coat lapel, you walked in front of him to the car. 

As you made it to your side, he came quickly behind, opening the door for you. “Oh doll, don't be mad at me.” he playfully begged as you sat in your seat. You just rolled your eyes with a silly smile. As he got into the car he looked over at you, more serious and amorous. You didn't dare look back at him, afraid you would disarm at his loving expression. A strand of hair loosened, coming down in front of your eyes. He of course couldn't leave it hanging in the way of your beautiful face, so he brought a hand up, stroking it behind your ear, making you turn to face him. You locked eyes, his with intent want and yours softening. “My love… absolutely gorgeous.” he smiled gently before departing his gaze and starting the car. As he focused on the road, he spoke out to you, “It was a good idea of yours to wear that dress. You look stunning.”. You blushed, loving the attention. Maybe you could take advantage of this? 

“Why thank you. You always look well put together in a suit.” you traveled a hand up to his neck, caressing for a moment before pulling on the bowtie and loosening it. A visible blush was creeping up his cheeks as he glanced over at you. As you completely freed the bowtie from his neck, you tossed it to the side, unbuttoning a few of the buttons on his white dress shirt. “Sweetheart,” he groaned. “What?” you teased, one of the straps holding your dress on your shoulders slipping down. He noticed this, causing him to inhale sharply. 

He couldn't continue driving. His self-control was not that strong. As he pulled over and parked, he turned over to you, took off his suit coat, and rolled up his sleeves, the top buttons all loosened. You blushed and backed up in your seat, the skirt part of your dress riding up and the neckline lowering showing more cleavage. He started taking off his gloves, pulling one finger off at a time as he looked over at you periodically, each time with intensified hunger. After he successfully got them off and threw them at the side he moved over in his seat, grabbing onto your face and giving you a fiery kiss. As you both moved your hands around each other’s bodies feverishly, you mumbled into a kiss, “We can't get much done in here, Peter.” giggling. “Nonsense.” he desperately gripped at your hips. “Allow me to demonstrate.” he chuckled attractively before feeling for your dress’ zipper and pulling it down, warm hands grazing along your back.

[ihearthes]

Title: Hole in One

Author: @ihearthes

Pairing: Harry x Reader Insert (1st person)

Rating: Smut (NSFW, 18+ Only)

Word Count: 3100

The sky is the bluest it’s been in months, and I hear birds singing from the trees surrounding the private course. My clubs have been unused for far too long, and I cannot wait to feel the grass beneath my feet. Spying my grandparents talking to a young man who I assume is the club’s pro, I make my way in their direction, eager to get onto the green. The giddy skip in my step is undeniably partly due to the excitement of playing the game again, but mostly because I’ve not seen my jetsetter grandparents since Christmas. 

“Grammy! Gramps!” I call, my hand waving as they turn towards me. Wrapping my grandmother in a hug, I put out my hand for a high five with my grandfather. Gleefully, he obliges. 

“So glad you could join us!” Grammy whoops. “Let me look at you.” Taking my hands, she steps back to survey me in that way that must be a full chapter in the Grandparent Training Manual. “Looking sexy as hell,” she laughs, her greeting likely not in that same manual. “Twirl for us.” She makes that motion with her finger, and I oblige.

As I spin around, my skort not moving in any way that would make a twirl necessary, my grandfather applauds as if I were a five year old at her first ballet recital. 

“Two of the biggest dorks I know,” I giggle. “I’m so happy to see you!” Excitedly, I pull them in for a group hug, wondering why the golf pro hasn’t excused himself yet. So when I step back, I pointedly look in his direction. 

And promptly freeze. 

Fuck. Nope. Not the golf pro. Nor the course manager. Not anyone who works at the place. 

“Hi. I’m Harry.” He leans forward to shake my hand, his left leg raising behind him as a counterbalance to his inclining body. “You must be Birdy.” 

Horrified, I grasp his warm hand, my eyes roaming over his face with that stupid hair clip firmly holding back his bangs and his green eyes examining me, a smile on his face as his dimple deepens. Flustered, I don’t give him my birth name. “A nickname, of course,” I remark inanely. 

“I’m just hoping it doesn’t bode ill for my game today.” His gray pants are matched with a dark blue pullover sweater, a white turtleneck underneath. 

How my mouth continues to work is beyond me, but I throw my head back and laugh loudly. Probably too loudly as I’m feeling a mixture of terror and arousal, and the laughter is decidedly nervous. “I’ve never been a threat to anyone on the golf course,” I comment.

“With grandparents as young as yours, I expected someone younger.” Harry thinks he’s being coy, but my grandmother responds honestly. 

“We’re ancient, Harry, and our Birdie is 31 now. And not getting any younger.” Pointedly, she looks at me as though I had offended her in some way. 

“We’re up,” Gramps points, and we haul our clubs to the first tee. 

“What’s your handicap?” Harry asks as Gramps swings a few times for practice. 

“23,” I announce proudly, on the low end of average. “You?”

“14,” he brags, adding a wink for good measure, an indication that he is aware of his boast. Not that I can complain since I’ve also gloated about my below-average number. He’s too handsome and charming for my comfort, and I engage my attention on my clubs, polishing my driver before withdrawing it from my bag. 

Amiable enough, Harry diverts his focus onto my grandmother, and I’m grateful for the respite to catch my breath. 

“You must go first, Vivienne.”

I want to interrupt and tell him we always go with the oldest first, which is my gramps, but my grandmother has already fallen for Harry’s charm, and she giggles like a schoolgirl as she makes her way to the tee. 

After my grandfather and I have each teed off, Harry prepares for his turn. In those tight golf trousers, his arse is as well defined as the ostentatious naked statue in the fountain at the entrance to the golf club. I find myself unable to stop staring as he bends down to place his tee, and his form when he swings is a thing of beauty. No wonder he has a low handicap. Why couldn’t he be a failure at just one thing in his life? And why couldn’t it be golf? 

Noting where his ball lands, Harry removes his sunnies from the vee of his sweater and slides them over his eyes, shielding his expression. With a nod at the three of us, he twists his body, ready to move on. 

“Shall we?” Gramps gestures, and I hoist my clubs onto my shoulder again, setting off behind the elderly couple who head for a single golf cart. “Sorry, Birdy.” He casually throws over his shoulder as we approach the small vehicle. “We got the last cart. You and Harry will have to walk. But don’t worry. Your grandmother and I will do our best not to burn rubber.” 

If I didn’t know better, I’d wonder if my grandparents were trying to play matchmakers. But they wouldn’t have any idea who Harry is. Although maybe it doesn’t matter to them. Perhaps my grandparents just want to pair me up with any Tom, Dick, or ….Harry.

“Mhm. See that you don’t get a speeding ticket, Gramps!” I yell as they take off, leaving Harry and I trailing behind. 

“You seem like a chip off the old block,” Harry jokes as we hike towards the hole. “Get it? Cause a chip is a golf shot.” 

“Oh, I understood the joke, but it was bad,” I groan. “No ifs, ands, or putts about it.” 

His eyes widen. “I see. It’s like that, is it?”

We both giggle, and when he shoves my shoulder at my next golf pun, I wonder if he’s flirting with me. As if Harry Styles needed to flirt with anyone. 

It’s on the fourth fairway that my Gramps gets involved with a joke of his own. “Hey, Harry?”

“Yes, sir?” The polite reply comes as I’m replacing my divot. 

“Why do the golf pros tell you to keep your head down during golf lessons?” 

“I don’t know, Rufus.” Harry withdraws his 3-wood and addresses the ball, shaking his hips in such a way that if my grandparents weren’t around, I’d probably faint. “Why?”

“So you can’t see them laughing.” Gramps guffaws, and Harry shakes his head, the corners of his mouth tilted up as he takes a deep breath and launches his ball closer to the green. 

My grandparents always make me laugh, but today they seem in finer form than usual, as they joke with Harry, my grandmother clearly vamping. Before today, I’ve never wondered if my grandfather was anything other than straight, but the way he touches Harry at every opportunity makes the wheels in my head churn. 

On the 8th hole, Grammy takes a mulligan after her ball sails into the water hazard, just short of making it across. She sighs, pulling another ball from her bag and muttering goodnaturedly to Harry. “Golf balls are just like eggs. They’re white, round, and you need another dozen every week.” 

Harry slaps his knee as he giggles at her pathetic joke. I can almost convince myself that he’s having the time of his life playing golf with these 78-year-olds. He gives every appearance of enjoying the late afternoon game. No wonder no one has anything unkind to say about him. Well, no one he’s met anyway. 

As we walk to the 9th hole, I decide to dive in and bravely ask the question that’s been on my mind for the last two and a half hours. “Why did you join us today?” 

Startled, he twists his head to look at me. “You had three. I was a late single player. The pro added me to your party. Simple.” 

“Okay.” I draw the word out, wondering if I should ask the follow-up question, and when he continues glancing at me curiously, I go for it. “But why do you have a free day today? And why didn’t you bring someone with you?” 

He turns his head away from me, but I still see that left dimple deepen as he shrugs. “I decided on a whim that I wanted to golf in this perfect weather, and my manager was busy preparing for tomorrow night’s show.” Turning around, he walks backwards so he can face me. “But I never thought I’d meet such a fun –” his eyes never leave mine, “and sexy companion.” 

I can feel the red creeping up from my toes through my body to flush my face. How does he do it? Flirting so openly without being gross? If anyone else had delivered that line, I would have gagged. Instead, I pretend that his comment has had no effect on me – like I’m not going to need dry panties before dinner with my grandparents.

“Harry!” My grandfather yells from where he and my grammy have stopped at my ball. “You better watch where you’re going! Sometimes people don’t replace their divots.” 

The musician nods to me courteously as though he hadn’t just made my heart flutter. Turning to face forward, he continues on the pathway where we finish the 9th hole. 

“Birdie,” Grammy stoutly announces to me as she climbs back into the cart. “Your grandfather and I are tired. We’re going to head to the clubhouse and have a drink, but you and Harry should play the back nine.” With that, my grandparents wave to us as their cart drives off towards the start. 

Oh. 

Well. 

That was unexpected. 

This is unexpected. 

Harry has put his hands in his pockets, rocking on his heels. “Well?” He watches me carefully, and I know the decision to continue is mine. 

“I doubt I’ll get to play with someone like you again, so we might as well continue.” 

“Someone like me? A celebrity?” Seeming genuinely confused, he removes his sunnies and scratches his head near that damn hair clip. 

“A duffer,” I tease.

“If that’s the case, it’s because your beauty has distracted me from my game today.” His eyes twinkle when he makes the comment, and that’s the moment I know the flirting is on in earnest. 

When we reach the 12th green, I can’t stand being so close to him without letting him know I am up for more. As he squares up for his putt, but before he pulls the club back to take the shot, I whisper loud enough for his ears only, “If you miss this putt, I’ll let you kiss me.” He doesn’t hesitate, taking the shot that rolls right at my feet where I’m holding the flag. And yet somehow the ball doesn’t go in. 

“Does that deal count if I accidentally missed?” 

Biting my lip, I tilt my head and observe him. “Hmmm…I’m not sure. It’s kind of offensive that you wouldn’t want to miss it on purpose. I mean, here I am, perfectly kissable. I’m going to say no. It doesn’t count.” 

Stalking towards me, he picks up his golf ball and tosses it to the edge of the green. “How about now?” His voice is a growl, and he’s standing close enough for me to feel the heat emanating from his body. 

Fuck. He’s so hot. Beyond sexy. 

I glance around the course quickly to see if anyone is nearby. Spotting no one, I tilt my head up to him. Harry grabs my chin with two fingers, staring into my eyes before he brushes his lips over mine. The moan that emits from my throat is heartfelt and demands more from him, but he steps back, his hand dropping to his side. 

Hooded eyes rake over me, and he smirks. “You’ve never met a golfer with a more delicate stroke than me.” 

“Promises, promises,” I tut, holding out the flag for him to take so I can putt. 

A few holes later, and all pretense has dropped as Harry rests his hands on my hips while I’m lining up my shot. “Are you sure you know how to hold a shaft correctly?” His voice in my ear is so gravelly that I want to drop onto my knees right there on the fairway and show him exactly how skilled I am at handling a shaft.

“Be careful there, Harry,” I murmur, “You’re like a water hazard. You’ve got me soaking wet.” 

“Fuck.” Stepping back from me, he shakes his head. “How many holes?” 

“Three,” I comment, and my eyes bat of their own accord, I swear! 

“Jesus!” He runs his hand over his face. “You’re like a fairway: short, well-groomed, and a pleasure to hit on.” 

“Are you saying you’d like to improve our stroke game together?” 

“I’m saying that I’m not going to make it back to the clubhouse at this rate.”

“Well…” I approach him, again searching the nearby greens for golfers, “...my golf coach says I have a firm grip. Do you want to see if it’s true?” 

“Birdy…” His voice is strangled as I ease my hand over the front of his trousers, feeling his length where it’s tucked safely high and to the left. The air exits his lungs at a faster velocity than a golf swing. “Get your clubs,” he commands, roughly replacing the putter he’d withdrawn and grabbing my hand. 

Yanking me behind him, Harry leads the way towards the parking lot where he uses an electronic key to open the vehicle and throw in his clubs before grabbing my golf bag and more gently placing it on top of his so that the two golf bags look to be spooning. 

“Get in,” he insists, and I don’t hesitate to scurry to the passenger side. 

“Where are we going?” I ask, my hands in my lap after I’ve buckled the seatbelt. The quivering in the lower part of my body will only be appeased in one way.

“Shit. I’ve no idea,” he sighs, not putting the car in drive. “My hotel is too far.” 

“Switch places with me,” I suggest, knowing exactly where we can go. 

With a single nod, the two of us climb from the vehicle and pass each other silently and aggressively on our way to opposite sides. Buckled in, I back the car from the lot and drive the two miles to my grandparents’ house. 

“I cannot believe I’m doing this,” I state. “Open the garage before the neighbors spot us.” I share the code, and Harry follows my directions. Without drawing too much attention, we’ve sequestered ourselves in the garage, with Harry waiting impatiently for me to get out of the car. 

The moment I step from the driver’s side onto the pavement of my grandparents’ garage, Harry approaches me, his hands cupping my face as he devours my lips. I do not hesitate, opening to him as my fingers fumble for the bottom of that fucking blue sweater I’ve been jealous of all afternoon because it gets to hug his curves. As I draw the sweater up, he releases my face to raise his arms over his head, and I don’t hesitate, repeating the gesture with his white turtleneck. 

As soon as his skin is free from the clothing, his mouth crashes back onto mine as his long lush fingers make short work of my white polo. He’s backed me almost to the stairs that lead to the house, and he wraps an arm around my nearly naked back just as I’m about to topple over onto them. 

“Where?” His breath is scented with the mint from his gum, and I feel the waft of it across my cheek. 

My brain scrambles. My grandparents’ house. Quickly I discard the master bedroom and the sofa in the living room. Grasping his hand, I haul us both to the only room that makes sense. Stopping to frantically kiss this amazing man, I reach behind me to unhook my bra, his fingers brushing over my boobs as soon as they are bare. 

When I open the door to our destination, Harry pauses, his eyes widening as he takes in the golf trophies, photos of my grandparents with famous golfers on the paneled walls, and the putting green. Shaking his head, he laughs, and the crinkles at his eyes make my panties even wetter. 

“I like my men like a sand trap: dirty, challenging, and unpredictable.” Although I’ve attempted to make the joke with a straight face, I fail miserably as I dissolve into giggles. 

With a face palm, Harry laughs too, glancing at the putting green. “No way am I fucking on that fake turf. One of us would end up with scraped knees, and I don’t know if I would prefer it be you or me.” 

“No question there,” I purr as I drop to my knees in front of him and reach for the button and zipper on his trousers. “I’ve been drooling for this shaft all afternoon.” 

“Well, I am known for my lengthy club.” The smirk on his face drops away as I free his cock and give it a few strokes before sliding my lips over the end and applying light pressure. Pushing his pants and underpants down his thighs, I reach for his balls. “Oh, fuck,” he sucks in air. “I had planned to wash my balls after the game today, but you’re welcome to….ahhhhhh.” The way the sound escapes his mouth when I do as he suggests and lave his balls with my tongue has me hotter than a July game at a Miami course. 

Returning to his cock, I slide his length as far as my throat will allow, practically unhinging my jaw as I take him in. Closing my lips, I use suction until he grabs my head, pulling my hair to remove me from my current activity. 

When I look up at him, I can see the scar under his chin as he’s staring at the ceiling. He takes a deep breath, and I cannot resist scraping my teeth lightly to see his reaction. It’s instant, as his jaw drops and his eyes connect with mine. Just as I get to the end of his cock again, I make a humming sound, knowing he can feel the vibration on this sensitive body part. 

“Birdy…” he gasps. “I need…” 

Releasing him with a popping sound, I sit back on my knees and grin, rather proud of my ability to reduce this cheeky flirt to two-word sentences. 

“What?” I demand. 

“I need to feel your fringe. Taste it even.” 

Closing my eyes, I shake my head as though I’m disappointed with his golf pun, but it honestly gives a zing to my private parts. 

“Fair enough,” I comment, using my current location to remove his shoes and the rest of his clothing so that he stands before me, naked but for his socks. 

“Shouldn’t that be ‘fairway’ enough?” He giggles, his shaft pointing straight at me. 

I groan. “Oh, man. If I weren’t so hot for you, your bad jokes might just turn me off.” 

“Good,” he smiles, and the dimple deepens until I’m confident I could fit a thousand golf balls, each with their own 381 dimples, inside it. That many dimples all in the same space would be overwhelming. “Now let’s put my wood in your golf bag, shall we?” He holds his hand down to me, and I grasp it so that he can pull me upwards, our tongues tangling like a dust devil. 

Fingers fumbling with the buttons on my skort, Harry moves his lips to my neck. “Why ‘Birdy’?” 

“Seriously?” I scoff. “You want to talk about my nickname now?” 

His luxurious fingers shove my panties and my skort down to my ankles, ignoring my shoes completely as he encourages me to kick off the offending clothing. “Yes please.” 

Nude, I plant my hands on my hips, glaring at him from where he’s squatting on the floor after removing my outfit. “My grandfather scored a birdie every time he took me out with him on the golf course when I was a baby.” 

“Oh,” he pouts. 

“Not as sexy as you thought it might be?” 

“As a story, you really should work on it.” 

“I promise I’ll spice up the story with the next single that joins our foursome,” I simper. A look crosses his face that could be construed as jealousy if one were so inclined. Which I’m not. Because he’s just an afternoon fuck. 

As I start to step past him to the leather sofa, he grabs my thighs and buries his face in my crotch, sniffing deeply. Flabbergasted, I pause, my balance off. 

“Widen your stance,” Harry demands, and when I follow his direction, he uses both hands to part the petals at my entrance. Just before his tongue dives in, he blows a puff of air, and I shiver at the sexiness of the move. 

“Fuck, Harry,” I grab for his shoulder so I don’t sink to the floor. Between his tongue and his teeth, I nearly tip over the abyss, but when he uses both hands, inserting one finger in each of my body’s lower entrances, I come, screaming his name as I yank his hair, accidentally dislodging that damn hair clip which skitters across the wood floor. My orgasm continues as Harry rises, one finger still teasing my clit. 

“You were right,” he whispers to me as I gaze at his glistening face, “three holes left. Now taken care of.” Capturing my lips, he delves inside my mouth, his tongue and finger below taking turns, setting a rhythm that would do well in one of his songs. 

Fuck. I’m weak. 

When my body stops shivering, I use both hands to shove him onto the sofa where he lands with both feet out and his driver in the air. 

“Birth control?” he asks. 

“Taken care of,” I grin. “IUD. But if you want double protection or you don’t trust me…” I gesture towards the rest of the house, trying to figure out where a condom might be hidden in my grandparents’ house. 

“I trust you. No one with that nickname and those grandparents could lie about something like that.” 

With a grin, I concede his point. Besides, my grandparents would flip their lids if I got pregnant without a commitment. 

Slowly, as if I’m lining up a putt, I slide onto him. 

“Mmmmm…that’s a hole to be respected,” Harry murmurs as I descend, and I would laugh if not for the fact that I’m gearing up for my second orgasm. 

“Are you up for some stroke play?” I query as I settle completely on him, my insides stretched but happy. 

“Stroke that stroke, babe.” 

With the steady beat of that Billie Squier oldie in my head, I follow his instructions, lifting myself off his shaft before plunging back down as hard as I can. Just when I’m getting closer, panting as I look to the skies, Harry taps my butt cheek. “Turn around here, love.” 

Settling on the sofa with my rear in the air, I am startled when Harry’s finger circles my asshole, and I wonder if I’m in for a different experience than I had originally expected. He’s too big for my back door without a lot of preparation, and it’s clear he knows it as he settles on wedging a finger there while his cock invades my vagina. Between his cock and his inserted finger, I’m so close to exploding that I slam my body backwards into his until he finally removes the finger, grabs my hips, and pounds into me. 

“Drive into me, Harry!” I scream, recognizing the golf pun after it’s already left my mouth. Biting my lip, I reach in front and play with my clit just as Harry shoots his load into me, and I writhe with my second orgasm, his name on my lips as he falls onto my back. 

Seconds, minutes, decades later, Harry disengages from me. 

“That was pleasant,” he smiles, and I wonder if this is it. He’ll leave me here, his cum dripping from me onto the furniture in my granddad’s golf room. “We should probably get dressed and get back to the course. Otherwise, they’ll send out a search party. If we get back quickly, they’ll think we just took our time on the 18th.” 

Agreeably, I laugh. “I can see it now.” Imitating my grandma, “‘But our baby girl is out there with a handsome stranger! They must be exhausted after 18 holes!’” 

Together, we dissolve into giggles at the innuendo as we sort through the discarded clothing and dress ourselves, making our way back to the garage as we locate our shirts. 

“You better drive us back. I’m likely to get lost in your tall bush.” 

“Oh, please,” I roll my eyes. “My grass is perfectly trimmed for the game.” 

“Mhm,” he smirks, “Who’s your caddy?” 

We pull into the parking lot, laughing at our ridiculous puns. Removing our golf bags from the trunk, we make our way into the clubhouse where we quickly locate and join my grandparents. 

“How were the last few holes?” Gramps asks. 

“Pretty good,” Harry grins, glancing over at me. “I got both a Birdy and a hole in one.” 

I want to laugh at his comment, but any suggestion that we did anything other than play golf would get me in trouble, so I simply smile, nod, and announce, “It was quite the round. The best I’ve had in a long time, by par.” 

When everyone at the table howls with mirth, I feel Harry’s hand on my knee as my grandfather speaks up with, “Harry? I think you might be missing a number on your scorecard.” When he winks and gestures towards me, I groan, but my latest lover takes advantage of the moment, holding out his scorecard to me. 

“If you wouldn’t mind…I might need another hole in one the next time I come to town.” 

Reblogs are love. Thank you.

[luxe-pauvre]

This made me wonder what the message is that we absorb from social media, and how it compares to the message that we absorb from printed books. I thought first of Twitter. When you log in to that site—it doesn’t matter whether you are Donald Trump or Bernie Sanders or Bubba the Love Sponge—you are absorbing a message through that medium and sending it out to your followers. What is that message? First: you shouldn’t focus on any one thing for long. The world can and should be understood in short, simple statements of 280 characters. Second: the world should be interpreted and confidently understood very quickly. Third: what matters most is whether people immediately agree with and applaud your short, simple, speedy statements. A successful statement is one that lots of people immediately applaud; an unsuccessful statement is one that people immediately ignore or condemn. When you tweet, before you say anything else, you are saying that at some level you agree with these three premises. You are putting on those goggles and seeing the world through them. I realized one of the key reasons why social media makes me feel so out of joint with the world, and with myself. I think all of these ideas—the messages implicit in these mediums—are wrong. In fact, the world is complex. To reflect that honestly, you usually need to focus on one thing for a significant amount of time, and you need space to speak at length. Very few things worth saying can be explained in 280 characters. If your response to an idea is immediate, unless you have built up years of expertise on the broader topic, it’s most likely going to be shallow and uninteresting.

Johann Hari, Are Screens Robbing Us of Our Capacity for Deep Reading?

[percheduphere]

Okay. First post trying to use gifs properly. I've switched out improper gifs for these type for my last 3-4 posts. Gonna work on some more corrections tomorrow when I have time. Please let me know if I'm misstepping anywhere. Thanks for your patience! That said...

LET'S TALK ABOUT SYLVIE💕, INTERSECTIONAL FEMINISM (SYLVIE & LOKI)✊🏽, AND QUEER REPRESENTATION (LOKIUS)🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍⚧️!

SYLVIE

I'm rooting for Lokius, AND I also love how much Sylvie has forged a life for herself in S2. A lot of her development is implied, so I think it's worth looking at her growth outside the context of Loki himself: She found a job, locals know her by name, she has friends and acquaintances, she has hobbies!

People call her by name in her timeline on 4 occasions:

1. When the McDonald's shift manager (John) checks in on her after work. See the kid with the tie in the image below. I couldn't find any gifs of him visiting Sylvie at her truck. She asked him if his mom was gonna pick him up to make sure he was gonna be okay late at night. 🥹

2. When a customer picks up their McDonald's order and thanks her (cheerfully). Also note how many employee stars she had on her badge! Queen.

3. Lyle at the record store. They seem like really good friends, and I got the "beginnings of an attraction" vibe between the two of them. Unfortunately, the gifs below are the only ones I could find of him and I'm still searching for the source. His interaction with Sylvie before spaghetti-trauma was so sincere. He could tell she was down and offered her Velvet Underground. Come on, that's a solid move.

4. Eric at the bar, who comments 2 shots of bourbon is a good choice. Let me tell you, finding a gif of Eric was like finding a needle in a haystack, but here he is leaning close to Sylvie. Thank you, @zehiiro!

I tried to find more gifs of all the people Sylvie has in her life but couldn't find any, which is a darn shame because there are so many subtle cues she's built a support system on her own and she's thriving.

She's a regular at many places in her timeline, and when people greet her, they do so with a smile. She loves music, a hard drink, and punk fashion.

When she engages with Loki, she may come across as cold, but I honestly think she's being firm with her boundaries and true to her beliefs. The TVA threatened her life for centuries. I don't doubt setting foot in the building is traumatic for her, which may explain why she was more harsh than usually in S2E4. Her psychological defenses were all on overdrive. Yet when Sylvie's in her own timeline, far away from the TVA, she can be her real self. Turns out, her real self is pretty well-liked! (I'll talk about how this is mirrored in Loki soon).

INTERSECTIONAL FEMINISM

Sylvie's an unapologetically "selfish" woman who knows what she wants, wants it on her own, is doing it on her own, and isn't afraid to put her foot down when it comes to her personal boundaries. We should be applauding all of that!

This is exactly the kind of female representation we need, but the show did Sylvie a disservice in S1 by coming at her character as a love interest first (look at all the media promos classifying her as such) instead of more thoughtfully showing how badly she has been affected by the TVA and planting what her desires are throughout. If they had done this with more intention and finesse, her position in S2 wouldn't come off as completely irresponsible.

As a result of this apparent marketing and pre-production development decision, her perception as a character (by both lokius and sylki shippers) is muddled by the question of her relationship status with Loki. This truly isn't fair, most especially to Sophia Di Martino.

Of course, Sylvie isn't perfect. No well-written character should be. I just think she's cooler than she gets credit for precisely because her character arc doesn't require the fulfillment of a romance. She will be fine whether or not she ends up with Loki. It's very feminist!

Loki, in turn, found safety, belonging, and love at the TVA. All the things that are the complete opposite of Sylvie's lived experience. I often see fans complaining about how Loki is ooc in his own series.

The thing is, and Loki admits this himself: it's all part of an illusion.

This illusion started far before the first Thor movie. He comes from a hyper-masculine (dare I say toxic-masculine) warrior society. His true nature doesn't conform with this, so he has to overcompensate with some (genuinely awesome) bad assery.

BUT he doesn't like it.

As a comparison to a far lesser but more relatable degree: imagine putting on a customer service persona 24/7. UGH. It's just not sustainable without becoming increasingly angry and bitter, which is what Sacred Timeline Loki becomes. Mobius gets ahead of this.

In the series, Loki can finally TURN OFF that persona, and TURN IT ON again when it's needed (and fun!).

He also now has the freedom to be silly, expressive, and magical (unapologetically queer!) without anyone making fun of him for it.

The end result is a much calmer, happier, likable person (like Sylvie in her timeline, his defenses are no longer on overdrive!). Who shows him this is possible?

Here's the receipt:

QUEER REPRESENTATION

Sociopoliticaly, Loki and Mobius come from a different angle. A lot of men (cis, fluid, trans, or otherwise) struggle with the social expectation of burying feelings and never ever showing vulnerability, especially to another men. Now, some might argue that shipping men together perpetuates this construct. There's some truth to this, but only through the lens that it is shameful to be gay. In order to get to a point in society where there's no shame in being mistaken as gay (or queer, generally) when being affectionate with another man, there must be continuous positive representation of homosexual relationships in which the characters are not stereotypes. Loki and Mobius are exactly this, especially Mobius.

Whereas Loki, on Asgard, represents the openly queer oppressed (i.e. magic and cunning, qualities historically tied to witches or "immoral women" instead of brute strength), Mobius can represent the closeted repressed.

In S1, Mobius was much more uptight, rule-abiding, and just shy of holier-than-thou. The power structure in which he existed perpetuated this, until Loki reveals to him it was all a lie (an illusion).

In S2, he becomes more flexible, more fun-loving, and more expressive in his affection. In S1, most of his support of Loki manifested as words of affirmation. In S2, his support extended to physical touch and bonding. Mobius, if seen through the lens of a closeted man allegory, finds the courage (and partner) to slowly come out.

[thatanimewriter]

BOOBA!

➳ request: Hi, Charley! I love your writing and I hope you're doing great <33 if ok with you can I request some hcs for ikuya, haru, natsuya and rin asking their fem s/o if they could touch/feel her breasts? Out of curiosity not NSFW stuff

➳ character/s: kirishima ikuya, nanase haruka, kirishima natsuya, matsuoka rin

➳ warnings: boobs? boobs, mentions of pornography (natsuya), gou appearance (rin), the comforting boob hold™ (ikuya, rin), reader kinda asks first?? (natsuya)

➳ notes: this was very funny to write, thanks anon!

𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐫𝐮𝐥𝐞𝐬 / 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭  / 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐬 / 𝐰𝐢𝐩 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

──  𝐊𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐌𝐀 𝐈𝐊𝐔𝐘𝐀.

i feel like the moment he was exposed to the idea of a bikini, he broke

what do you mean people don’t always wear one pieces???

people purposely show off their bodies??? >:0000

and one pivotal scroll through instagram brought him to ask you

“do girls actually hold their boobs for comfort?”

“yeah, i do it all the time.”

“...why??”

poor boy is just so confused about both women and boobs... and women and their boobs

just doesn’t get it

when you explained the comfort of holding a boob, he wanted to try it

and you let him after about 10 seconds of blankly staring

and another 20 seconds of ikuya getting progressively redder

it took you having to take his hand and put it on your breast to fully break him

i don’t recommend this for ikuya, he might have made a mistake

but he’ll ask again next week when he didn’t do well at practice

──  𝐍𝐀𝐍𝐀𝐒𝐄 𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐔𝐊𝐀.

i headcanon haru to be asexual with a low sex drive, so i sorta doubt he’s ever tried to go out of his way to look at boobs

but he hears about how great they are from the masses

n he does wonder what all the hype is about

“[name], can i touch your breasts?”

“what-”

“i just want to know why people like them.”

to that, you can’t blame him, so you just let him do his thing

honestly, it’s weird having someone touch your boobs without any sexual intent

felt much more like a medical inspection than an intimate moment

“is it because they’re squishy?”

who’s gonna tell him-

you don’t think you’ve ever felt more conflicted about a situation like this before

he probably won’t ask again because he got his answer

also probably doesn’t entirely agree

because why booba when you can swim with him??

──  𝐊𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐌𝐀 𝐍𝐀𝐓𝐒𝐔𝐘𝐀.

for sure has seen boobs

probably in porn-

and as suave as he wants to be, he shuts down when he’s actually in a situation

especially when you caught him googling what boobs felt like and you offered him a freebie

“do you want to touch mine to find out?”

“UHHHH”

when he finally learnt the answer to his dumb google question, you’d never seen him look so...

:000

dial up internet sound while he registers in his brain what’s happening

“it’s like a stress ball!”

“don’t squeeze them as hard as you do a stress ball or i’ll ban cuddles for a month.”

it’s ok, he was very dainty for once, applaud the man

expect him to start touching them more often

and if he wasn’t laying on your boobs before

he is now ._.

──  𝐌𝐀𝐓𝐒𝐔𝐎𝐊𝐀 𝐑𝐈𝐍.

would like to say he hasn’t seen boobs but he definitely has

not always by choice, sometimes gou just shows him women and sometimes he questions her life decisions

but ever since hearing about the comforting boob hold, he wanted to know

so, even if it was out of the blue one night at your house, he had to pop the question

“can i hold your boob?”

“just the one??”

“for now, yeah.”

to that, you felt heat in your face, but lifted your shirt regardless

he was unsurprisingly gentle with you, which you were grateful for

but you still couldn’t get your face to cool down

it’s not that he never saw the appeal, he just never KNEW

he gets it now, he knows that it’s just nice to have something to hold

to have something to squish a bit mindlessly

but you’ll have to make sure he’s not doin this in public around samezuka

he himself needs comfort, for he is a sensitive man

but he might have to just settle for a hug sometimes

[kimsohn]

𓇼 3:04 am

pairing . eric x gn!reader about . 499 words, fluff warnings . none! tagging . @gfksn @invuwrld @stealanity

honestly, eric has to applaud how committed you are to this.

it's pitch black outside, and even though he doesn't know the exact numbers, he can tell it's far past your bedtime. it's far past anyone's bedtime, really, as he sees sunwoo knocked out next to a half-asleep sangyeon. the long hours of partying after another successful award show win seem to have taken a toll on everyone in this car, and he can't blame them for resting.

you especially have been nodding off for the entirety of the ride. however, the only thing keeping you from falling asleep is a surface to rest your head on, so every time your head veers even slightly to the left, you readjust yourself only to nod off again.

eric doesn't know whether to find it funny or maddening. he wants to yell at you that his shoulder is right there and that he would literally be the last person to care about you using it. however, you don't seem to have any plans of popping the question, opting to try and sleep upright (and fail) instead of being comfortable.

so eric does it for you.

"y/n, you know you can sleep on my shoulder, right?" he whispers, tapping the side of your head to wake you up.

"hm? oh," you respond, rubbing your eyes awake, "are you sure? it might be uncomfortable."

"it's fine, really. i don't mind."

normally, you would've argued more, but eric can tell you're too tired to care. you curl up into his side, wrapping your hands around his right arm like a pillow and resting your head on his shoulder.

your head on his body does make it a little hard to breathe, but he can't tell if it's because of the weight of your head or if he's hyperventilating at this close proximity. maybe the sleep had made him delirious, but he'd completely forgotten that yes, he did indeed have a major crush on you and yes, you clinging to him like a koala bear would make his heart palpitate.

he wonders if you can hear his heart beating out of his chest or the deep breaths he's having to take in this position. whatever he feels doesn't matter though, because he would sacrifice his breathing for the rest of eternity just to make sure you were safe.

okay, that might be a little too much (nothing is ever too much when it comes to you).

you feel as if you were meant to be there, so correct that eric is already imagining waking up next to you every day, your head on his chest and your hands around his torso. he closes his eyes, envisioning a lazy sunday morning with you and just you.

and maybe the party had taken a toll on eric too, or maybe your very presence had lulled him to a dreamy sleep, because as sangyeon wakes up when the car reaches their destination, he spots eric's head resting atop yours.

he'll give you two lovebirds five more minutes of peace. the universe can thank him later.

[edgeray]

Hello Again, Ray! 🐴 Anon here once more. If you're OK with writing it, could I please request a sequel to "How to (Horse)Ride Into Your Heart".

This time, the plot involves Reader helping Arlecchino & Nyx (her Friesian mare) practice Dressage. Arlecchino is already getting good at performing Dressage techniques thanks to Reader's teaching skills. Arle cuddles with Nyx and gives the Friesian sugar cubes as treats for doing so well. Arle also taught the Friesian Nyx to rear up on her hind legs, much to Reader's surprise and delight. Nyx is rather irritated at being made to rear up on her hind legs, but Arlecchino soothes the Friesian down by giving her a cuddly hug.

A little while later, Arlecchino decides to enter a dressage competition with Reader's support. Soon enough, Reader happily helps her Friesian Nyx & her girlfriend Arle train & practice for the Dressage competition. Nyx gets her mane braided by Arle too.

Naturally, Arlecchino & Nyx easily win the dressage competition, especially thanks to Nyx being taught by Arle to rear up. Reader congrats both Nyx & Arlecchino for winning. Arlecchino wants to enter more dressage competitions and she asks Nyx if she is alright with that. Nyx happily nickers in agreement as Arlecchino laughs & cuddles with the Friesian horse.

I am more than happy to provide any assistance if you need any help with writing this. Thank you again, Ray!

How to (Horse)Ride Into Your Heart Part 2

(Arlecchino x Fem! Reader)

A/N - Part 1 link here Hi 🐴 Anon! Nice to see you again. Whoo… part 2, alright. I had to consult my horse-girl friend again for help ^^. She provided me with a lot of stuff that I probably won't be using for my own comprehension sake but it's the thought that counts <3. I tried my best to write this! Thanks for spelling out the whole plot! It makes it a lot easier. Otherwise, I would not know how to write this haha. 🫶 hope you enjoy thisI am so sorry this took so long to post out… forgive me if I get any terminology wrong or this is inaccurate.  Content warnings / info - author pretends to know what dressage is or how to write horses, arle is ooc, reader is fem!, 1.1k words

“That was a nice job!” You applaud as you clap, a bright smile on your face as your Friesian horse, Nyx, trots towards you, with your girlfriend riding her. “Really nice. I told you that you're a genius.” 

Your girlfriend slightly grins, and as she approaches closer you can see a faint flush on her cheeks. She slides off of Nyx, before petting her mane. Nyx nuzzles against her in response. 

“I'm nothing of that sort,” she dismisses the comment with a wave of her hand. “You're just a good teacher and Nyx is well… Nyx.” 

Nyx knickers, and sometimes you swear that she can understand the two of you. You wouldn't be surprised, Nyx is a magical beast of her own, you suspect. You nod your head in response, understanding completely with Arlecchino's sentiment. The Friesian struts towards you, nudging you with her muzzle. 

“You want treats, Nyx?” Arlecchino offers and the horse lets out an affirmative neigh. You let out an amused huff and reach into the pouch that's attached to your belt, opening it to reach for the sugar cubes–Nyx's favorite. You offer a few to Arlecchino. 

Your girlfriend gently strokes the horse's withers with one hand as she holds out her other hand for the horse to eat from. 

“How were my techniques?” Arlecchino asks as the horse chews away. 

“It’s getting pretty good. A few more hours of practice and you'll have them nailed down like I do. I'm honestly surprised you were able to get her to rear her legs.”

She bobs her head as a gesture of acknowledgement. “Good surprise?”

“Yeah. It's impressive. Nyx doesn't like doing it a whole lot.”

“Consider the sugar cubes as a bribe,” Arlecchino states with a playful glint in her eyes. She turns to the black horse again. “All done, Nyx?” 

The horse exhales through her nostrils as a sign of ‘yes.’ Arlecchino slowly wraps her arms around the Friesian's neck gently, embracing her. 

“You did great today. Good job,” Arlecchino softly praises Nyx, to which your heart melts at the sight and you wordlessly coo at the adorable scene. Nyx and Arlecchino have gotten along so well in the almost-year that they knew each other. Contentment fills you with the knowledge that your girlfriend adores your horse so much, giving her the attention that Nyx deserves.

You join the embrace with the other two, and the three of you remain like that before you eventually pull away, and you glance at the skyline. Seems like it was approaching dawn. Best call it a day. Arlecchino notices as well as she says “Should we lead Nyx back to her stable?”

“Yeah.” Grasping Nyx’s reins, you guide Nyx back with Arlecchino by your side. Once Nyx is secured and comfy in her stable, the two of you give her your final cuddles for the day (and Arlecchino sneaks in one more sugar cube) before the two of you head to your house, a quaint yet snug establishment connected to the horse pasture. Arlecchino moved in a month or two ago, so now the two of you share the space.

“Feel like making dinner?” Arlecchino asks you as she clasps your hand in hers while you two walk.

You shake your head. “Not up to it. You okay with yesterday's leftovers?” 

“Mhm. I'm glad we didn't burn down the kitchen making pasta.” 

“We didn't burn down the kitchen…” you giggle sheepishly. “We… just lit some stuff on fire.” 

Arlecchino hums and pecks you on the cheek. “Sure. Let's go with that story, dear.” 

Even with the hundreds, if not thousands of kisses you've shared with her, you still can't help but flush. You two finally enter the house; you prepare the silverware and utensils while Arlecchino takes out the leftovers from the fridge and reheats them in the microwave. 

“Say, I was thinking about something,” Arlecchino starts as she waits for the microwave. 

“Yeah?”

“You know when you first took me to your Dressage tournament?”

“Mhm. What's up with it?”

“Well… I asked you to teach me how to dressage because I thought I'd want to enter those tournaments myself.”

You cock your head but a grin spreads across your face. “Really? That's great Arlecchino. I'm sure Nyx would love it.”

“You wouldn't mind that I'll be doing it with Nyx?”

“Of course not. Nyx loves you as much as she loves me. We practically share custody over her,” you joke but the message is stated clearly. “I'd love to help you guys train for it.” 

“I think it's more me that needs training,” Arlecchino comments with a light chuckle. “Do you know when the next nearby Dressage competition starts?” 

“I think in a few months. Guess we better start training as much as possible.” 

“Nyx won't enjoy that too much,” your girlfriend jests. 

“She gets her sugar cubes, she'll be fine.” 

— 

Competition day comes rather quickly. Arlecchino polished up her technique with Nyx where the Friesian horse rears up on her own hind legs, along with some other techniques that you taught Arlecchino how to do; Nyx already knows how to do these ones considering these were the ones you taught Nyx when you previously competed. 

It felt bizarre and out of place to be the spectator this time. You've always been used to being down here, leading Nyx and showing her off, but you aren’t competing this time. Though with this strange feeling, there’s this undeniable pride inside of you, for your girlfriend. You’ve personally trained the two of them, you know that they're both going to do well regardless of where she places. 

Seeing Arlecchino step out with Nyx down here, you couldn't help but cheer, even over the sports commentator. Arlecchino turns her head towards the direction of your voice and gives you a handsome smile, one that makes you want to scream that she's your girlfriend to the whole world. Seeing her down there, you couldn't believe that this was her first time from the sheer confidence she exudes–unlike your first time when you competed. That's just like her. Able to overcome anything, just like how you know she'll win this competition easily.

And she does. Each technique is flawless and the audience's cheers are deafening when she performs the one she personally taught Nyx– the rearing. That's why it comes to no surprise to you when Arlecchino wins. 

“I can't believe you won your first competition ever,” you laugh as you launch yourself at the competition winner, squeezing her in a tight hug, before gently wrapping your arms around Nyx’s neck, stroking her mane. “Still hungry for the taste of victory?” 

“Hm… I was considering doing another competition. What do you say, Nyx?” Arlecchino smiles as she turns to the Friesian, stroking her withers. Nyx nickers happily, nuzzling in between the two of you's faces. You and Arlecchino laugh, enjoying one another's company and glory. 

[abrahamvanhelsings]

for the ship asks: joplittle? i know i'm opening pandora's box with this

if someone already asked, then going for any other ned ship you might also like? choose freely my friend

AUGH my beloveds!! ill try not to make this a whole essay so ill point out a couple of things that i love about them at random

the way they interact with each other on screen has me obsessed. i wrote a post a bit ago about how we don't see them talk much together but they have a lot of potential anyway, and then @cinematicnomad made a great point about the fact that they DO interact but a lot it is nonverbal. honestly that opened my eyes to so much little things i hadn't noticed before. that they communicate through glances and gestures and that they understand each other, know each other well enough to have that kind of interaction... they may be background characters and we may not see the progression of their relationship much, but we can tell that it happens, and that they become close. you can tell that being in that precarious situation together, where crozier's alcoholism is affecting the entire expedition but it also has to be kept a secret, and they're the two people who know, and who are responsible for crozier/everything else, that really created a very tight bond between them.

speaking of tight friendships! we can tell that it happens bc edward, famously, is SO happy when jopson is made lieutenant. everyone at that table thinks it's deserved, and is happy for jopson, but edward is a beam of sunlight in that tent. genuinely can't stop smiling. it's so so lovely to me that he can't contain his own glee bc he's so glad and proud. get you a man who applauds your successes like edward little

there are so many ways their personalities fit together so well!! they're both extremely diligent in their duties, but it plays out differently in them both, and they both have different weaknesses. they're the type of people who are generally quiet and unobtrusive but steadfast and loyal, but where jopson tends to go sharp as a knife under pressure, edward always worries that he is doing the right thing (that's also bc for a large part of the expedition they have very different responsibilites and cares, but nevertheless). they're both guarded where it comes to showing their inner feelings, but it feels to me that jopson can provide a firmness, the assurance that edward needs to remain confident in who he is and what he does, whereas edward (once you've cracked him like an egg) has a warmth to him that can fold around jopson like a blanket, to let go of that tightly-controlled professionalism. each other's safety blankets, people who can mitigate the other's shortcomings, and provide space for their better qualities and their feelings to come to full bloom.

lower class/higher class dynamic is a weakness of mine. any fic that has thomas being a steward/valet to edward in any capacity with the victorian slow burn mutual pining/mutual 'he is to good for me' has me on my knees

[lueurjun]

@jakewife i hope you enjoy my love. let’s hope i get this one right the first time lmao ehshsjs you didn’t specify a trope so i just winged it—it turned out much longer than i anticipated

hufflepuff bf jake x slytherin reader.

right off the bat: slytherin x hufflepuff quidditch rivalry trope

elite enemies to lovers ( sorta ) trope. sorry not sorry i love it so much

jake gives sporty, friendly jock type. the one that is so popular and loved by everyone just because of how nice and cool he is without even trying

and you’re kinda giving nice but stern, oliver wood level quidditch obsession who lives, breathes and eats victory

iconic if you ask me

it’s never just a ‘friendly’ match when hufflepuff is against slytherin

it’s personal beef between you and jake

well. you

jake thinks it’s just the type of friendship you guys have

but you absolutely despise him and live to crush every single one of his dreams on that broomstick of yours

well, at least you think you do

your friends are convinced there’s something else that makes you so invested in jake

but you’re more than sure that it’s just because you dislike how cocky he is and want to dominate hufflepuff at quidditch

‘our match against hufflepuffs. we have to beat them or else life is worthless’

‘don’t we play ravenclaw first?”

‘NO ONE CARES ABOUT RAVENCLAW THIS IS ABOUT HUFFLEPUFF AND THE GOOD FOR NOTHING GOBLIN THEY CALL A CAPTAIN! HE’S A TERRIBLE PERSON’

you almost snap your broom, the mere mention of him gets you riled up

meanwhile, jake is just skipping around campus complimenting people like there’s no tomorrow

‘yo! is that a new tie? it brings out your eyes”

such a terrible person. honestly deserves a cell in azkaban

you don’t completely know why jake gets you so mad

more often than not you tell yourself that it’s just because jake burns your pride

he’s very good at quidditch, and sometimes, you feel like maybes he’s better than you

which you hate because you excel at the sport and it’s the one thing you love most in the world

and knowing he might be better burns. so you take it and turn it into sheer hatred for him

but you don’t really hate him at all

and you realise that when you watch him hit the ground during hufflepuff’s match against gryffindor

the game stops but you’re already on the field before the players realize what happened

‘jake? jake? can you hear me? Oh heavens—’

‘i’m in heaven? can you send one of your other angels down there to tell my angel, their name is y/n, that i really liked them?’

then he passes out?

and you’re just like???

did he just call you his angel?

WAIT DID HE JUST SAY HE LIKES YOU??

you don’t know when it happened but at some point, you’re pulled back by one of the teachers to let the other teachers have a look at him

and you’re just out of it so you don’t have any idea what’s going on

finally after jake’s been removed from the pitch one of your friends pull you away since it’s started to rain

‘you were on the pitch before anyone even realized jake was hurt…’

your friend is smirking, half expecting you to hit them over the head

but you don’t

‘i think i might like jake’

now that’s not what they were expecting

‘and i think he likes me too’

your entire friend group makes a massive scene of applauding and hooting, ‘it’s about time’

but you’re too focused on what happened back on the field

then you find yourself standing up and heading out of the great hall, your friends fading into the background as you rush to the hospital wing

jake is awake when you arrive and he beams at the sight of you

‘y/n! it’s good to see you, i like your hai—“

‘do you like me. yes or no.’

primary school crush core ^

jake’s taken back by your sudden question

but after a few minutes, he slowly nods his head

you weren’t actually expecting him to nod, so you stand there unsure of what to do

‘right then… i think i like you back’

nice

totally romantic

rom com confessions could never

jake grins — though he’s in a lot of pain so you can’t actually tell whether he’s grinning or grimacing

either way, a win is a win. you’re both now in like

DATING HUFFLEPUFF JAKE

after the awkward but kinda sweet confession in the hospital wing, the two of you decide that normal people start dating from then on

so that’s what happens

he leaves the hospital wing with a broken arm but he’s got you on his good one so he takes that as a win

everyone is flabbergasted when you rock up to the great hall holding his hand

all of your friends are exchanging money with jakes friends. turns out they had secret bets on how long it would take before the two of you finally got together

you’re not a pda person so hand holding or a quick cheek kiss is as far as you’re willing to go in public

‘can i at least peck your lip-’

‘put those lips near me whilst we’re in a public space and i will hex you’

hex him out of like, you like the boy too damn much to ever hurt him

you’d dive in front of a killing curse before you’d ever point one at him

but the threat still stands

in private though, you’re all over him

makeout sessions in the restricted section after jake charmed his way into getting a free pass for it

though peeves the ghost has horrible timing and tends to pop up to piss you both off

so you settle for myrtles bathroom

her crying is easy to drown out when you have jake sim’s lips all over you

him admiring you from across the room

you not so subtly biting your lip when he gets all smart in lesson and starts answering questions correctly

‘seriously? him being a smart arse is what gets you going?’

‘shut up jay, at least he has more brain cells than you’

that sure did hush jay up but not without him jabbing you with his elbow

jake sneaking into the slytherin dorms for cuddles

the next morning the two of you are late to lesson and end up showing up in each others uniform

‘mr sim. i don’t recall you being placed in slytherin.’

Mcgonagall peers down at jake’s green and silver tie and then shifts her gaze to you where you’re now looking down at your own which is yellow and black

she almost smirks when she sees you hide your face behind your book

the class whistles and hoots teasingly which only makes matters worse

the funny thing is… it’s not the first time that’s happened and it most certainly won’t be the last

the quidditch rivalry never fades

‘good luck kiss?’

‘eat grass, sim. i’m about to obliterate your entire team they won’t even see it coming!’

you aggressively push past him leaving him standing there dumbfounded

and then you run back with a sheepish smile

‘with love, it’s all with love. i love you! good luck!’

then you kiss him and run back to the slytherin locker rooms, totally unaware of what you just said

it doesn’t click until the game has already started and suddenly you’re mid air freaking out on your damn broom

‘yo slytherin angel! get your head in the game!’

it’s jake and that causes you to freak out more

which he realizes AND THEN HE GRINS

‘by the way, i love you too but if you don’t get your head in the game and play like the champion i know you are, i’ll break up with you’

damn. you’re a flustered mess on your broom because that really gets you

so you play like your life depends on it

it was a close match but slytherin wins

‘so… you love me, huh?’ jake rocks back and forth on his heels with a cheeky grin

you nod ‘and i recall, you called me a champion?’

‘seriously? we’re talking about a huge step in our relationship and you’re hung up on the fact that i called you a champion?’

of course you are

it fuelled your ego

you’re so high on adrenaline that you don’t care that you’re in the middle of the quidditch pitch

dropping your precious broom, you grab jake by his collar and pull him in for a much deserved kiss

the stadium explodes with cheers but you can’t find it in you to feel embarrassed

‘i love you, my favourite champion’

oh, jake sim. he really knows how to make you putty in his hands

[us-the-voices-and-more-voices-2]

random Conner being a good bullshitter moment

Teacher: today class we are doing a genealogy thing, basically we are going to track your family tree. It’s an assessment of your research skills, go ham just make sure your information is correct if it isn’t you will be docked accordingly.

Later

classmate: so Conner? How are you going?

Conner: oh I realise my family history is a bit confusing but when the day comes I’ll explain it, how are you going?

classmate: oh fine, my family already had a family tree book made so I just have to present it.

Conner: cool, I have to make mine from scratch but it’s alright.

a week later after a few battles with random space pirates

teacher: well class I hope you’re ready to present your assignments, who wants to go first?

Conner: *raises his hand*

teacher: oh well, Conner go ahead.

Conner: *clears throat* okay, so my dad clark is actually my half brother *conner starts to singsong* my mother is actually some rich lady named Lex, my dad is actually this guy Elliot, my half brother is also my older brother, I know it makes no sense but keep on listening. My cousin is Kara, my family is Jonathan and Martha Kent, my stepmom is Lois lane and my nephew is Jon Kent. Yup that’s it.

the class applauds after Conner’s PowerPoint presentation

teacher: wait how is clark your half brother?

Conner: just is, my dad Elliot knocked up Lex and he left shortly afterwards. He was one of Jonathan’s distant relatives, he ended up leaving clark with the Kent’s because well easier than leaving him alone, since his mother died when he was a kid. He did die only a short while later it was only supposed to be temporary until he did die. So they ended up adopting clark, he’s still a full blooded Kent but yeah his dad is dead. And I’m his half brother because our dad had a kid with this rich lady Lex. As you can see on the chart. And Kara is our cousin who I don’t know who’s parents are.

teacher: well that’s something, I honestly was expecting something else.

Conner: I’m still in touch with rich lady Lex, since she’s a doctor and did raise me for the first years of my life, and I have family health issues. But I am the Jonathan and Martha’s kid though, Lex is just reluctant about me being with the other side of the family because she didn’t really know them well. Since dad died long after she knew she was pregnant, i was a ivf baby lol because she froze his sperm. I call clark dad because well he’s been my dad. But we are half brothers, it’s more of a “I didn’t know we were half brothers so I’m going to call you dad” thing I was 14 when I came to live with them, I had a falling out with my mother.

the class listens eagerly because this is so much Kent lore, and explains literally everything about why the fuck they look a bit different and where clark came from! the decades long mystery is solved!

Conner: so now I just alternate between the two houses, it’s not a split custody agreement or something it’s just I like living with the Kent’s. And I’m old enough to make my own decisions, so it’s just mostly living at the Kent’s and visiting mother.

teacher: well that’s something. Thank you for sharing this, you receive a B+ because I don’t have access to any of your records or know who the heck you’re talking about so B+. Whoever’s next get ready.

later

Conner sitting at the dinner table eating some roast, and slightly kicking his feet under the table asks

Conner: I did my family history thing today

Jonathan: you didn’t screw up and tell everyone something that could trace us back to superman right? *chuckles*

Conner: nope, did finally explain that clark is my half brother.

Jonathan: *fork drops* what

connner: well obviously no one believed he’s my dad, because that’d make him a teen father or something and honestly it was genuinely getting pretty weird. So I explained that Elliot, Jor el. Was my father, and that he had a kid with a rich woman named Lex because technically it’s true who can actually confirm or deny that, through ivf after Elliot died. He also had a kid with unnamed woman who is Clark’s mother, he left clark with you as he couldn’t leave him alone and he died shortly after. Isn’t that a better back story?

Jonathan super surprised by conner’s web weaving skills just nods

Conner: so now I can talk about Lex, no one thinks I’m a teen father’s child anymore, and you have some one to blame if someone does actually accidentally test Clark’s blood. I am amazing!

Jonathan: well, I guess I’ll inform everyone of the situation you just made, but I commend you for your hard work. You did a good job kid.

Prev | current | next

(yes this is a series please read the first one it's hilarious)

[madara-fate]

I've seen that whenever soembody mentions any rude or abusive thing sasuke does to sakura , you throw the logic that he was under the hatred which is fair enough , but is there a limit to it ? Like if instead of knocking her out with a harsh genjutsu , he kicked or punched her and then put her in a genjutsu , would you have still shipped them ? Like honestly asking is there a limit to it ? The reason why sasuke x Sakura is always hated upon is because it's a romantic bond , so murder attempts seem extra very distasteful , as for Naruto x sasuke , is that they are rivals and fight so it's fine for them for them or atleast seen in a better manner and also Naruto bond with sasuke was highlighted so people can see that despite those , he still cared about Naruto , but for Sakura there isn't nearly any strong moments .

Naruto went ballistic for hinata during the pain moment , sasuke never had 0.1% of protectiveness for Sakura .

Him leaving again for a decade gives people a bad experience, almost plays it as a joke , hey even kishi joked or laughed at the joke about how sasuke stays away from Sakura because she is a tough woman .

Now karin , you can admit they shared respect and comradery and sasuke the only murder attempt was just him trying to kill danzo , also their biting moments gave them a erotic tone , plus karin feels as strongly as for sasuke than Sakura . Kishi himself said it so their love was same . Sasuke treated karin way better , or respected her and smiled at her .

Imo if sasuke and karin did end up together or were the final couple , people would have taken it way better than sasuke x Sakura , cause karin just seemed to spend more time with and he smiled at her and also cared for her .

Sure ss fans would be upset , but they don't really make up the more than Naruto Stans .

Sasuke treated Sakura pretty awful and even you can't deny it .

I've seen that whenever soembody mentions any rude or abusive thing sasuke does to sakura , you throw the logic that he was under the hatred which is fair enough , but is there a limit to it ? Like if instead of knocking her out with a harsh genjutsu , he kicked or punched her and then put her in a genjutsu , would you have still shipped them ?

There is a limit to it, but the fact of the matter is that Sasuke didn't do those things that you suggested, so what's the point of even mentioning them? It's like you're saying that their relationship should be negatively judged for things that didn't even happen. What people really need to acknowledge, is that the Naruto universe very clearly does not follow the same standards of forgiveness found in reality, yet they're perfectly fine with accepting wholly unrealistic levels of forgiveness for certain things, while giving SS all kinds of shit for incorporating the exact same principles. It doesn't make sense.

The reason why sasuke x Sakura is always hated upon is because it's a romantic bond , so murder attempts seem extra very distasteful , as for Naruto x sasuke , is that they are rivals and fight so it's fine for them for them or atleast seen in a better manner

That makes no sense whatsoever. It does not matter whether the person is your best friend or a potential romantic interest; a murder attempt is a murder attempt, and attempting to kill your potential romantic interest is in no way, shape or form any worse, than attempting to kill your best friend. I'm sorry but I am so sick of hearing people say this nonsense, it's such a weak attempt to try and excuse or justify the plethora of mistreatment found in SNS in comparison to SS, and I'm not having it.

Furthermore, it's not even as if it's a 50/50 thing between SS and SNS. No, Sasuke treated Naruto far worse than he ever did to Sakura, and yet people constantly applaud him for not giving up on Sasuke. Yet, when Sakura also doesn't give up on Sasuke for the exact same reasons, she's instead hated on for apparently being shallow, selfish and all the rest of that typical bullshit.

and also Naruto bond with sasuke was highlighted so people can see that despite those , he still cared about Naruto , but for Sakura there isn't nearly any strong moments .

Just because Sasuke's bond with Naruto was highlighted in comparison to his bond with Sakura, that doesn't mean that his bond with Sakura wasn't highlighted at all. Sasuke literally named her as one of his two precious comrades. And you say there weren't any strong moments for SS? Please refamiliarise yourself with the manga, because I can very easily list plenty of examples.

Naruto went ballistic for hinata during the pain moment , sasuke never had 0.1% of protectiveness for Sakura .

Are you actually serious?

He protected her against Orochimaru

He went "ballistic" for her against the Sound ninja

He was fully willing to risk his life for her against Gaara by buying Naruto time to escape with her because he didn't want to lose someone "dear" to him ever again

He broke every bone in Shin's body while rescuing her

Do you want me to list the examples from the novels too? Goodness gracious.

Him leaving again for a decade gives people a bad experience, almost plays it as a joke , hey even kishi joked or laughed at the joke about how sasuke stays away from Sakura because she is a tough woman.

Firstly, Sasuke wasn't away for a decade. Secondly, so what if Kishi laughed at that during an interview? Literally so what?

Now karin , you can admit they shared respect and comradery and sasuke the only murder attempt was just him trying to kill danzo , also their biting moments gave them a erotic tone , plus karin feels as strongly as for sasuke than Sakura . Kishi himself said it so their love was same . Sasuke treated karin way better , or respected her and smiled at her .

You have to be trolling at this point.

You actually say Sasuke's murder attempt on Karin "was just him trying to kill danzo", which is just a horrible excuse. In case you don't remember, Sasuke literally said that since Karin allowed herself to get captured, she was useless to him:

So to you, that must mean that it was all about Danzo, correct? Unbelievable. Stop trying to justify all of Sasuke's horrible treatment of everyone other than Sakura, the bias here is crazy. This wasn't just Sasuke trying to kill Danzo, this was Sasuke killing two birds with one stone, because he deemed Karin to have become a burden.

To address your other points...

"also their biting moments gave them a erotic tone" - Are you really trying to use Karin's perviness to prove your point?

"plus karin feels as strongly as for sasuke than Sakura . Kishi himself said it so their love was same" - Kishi never said that. What he actually said, was that Sakura and Karin would be able to empathise and understand each other's feelings since they held affection for the same person. He never said that Karin's feelings for Sasuke were as strong or stronger than Sakura's were.

"Sasuke treated karin way better , or respected her and smiled at her" - Sasuke didn't treat Karin better, he didn't respect her any more than he respected Sakura, and not only did he also smile at Sakura, but he also described her as someone dear to him, was willing to sacrifice himself to ensure her survival, acknowledged her as one of his precious comrades, saw the shadow of his family within her and the rest of Team 7, gave her an actual heartfelt apology, and gave her his ultimate expression of affection which was the forehead poke. Now once Sasuke does even half of those things for Karin, then come back.

Imo if sasuke and karin did end up together or were the final couple , people would have taken it way better than sasuke x Sakura , cause karin just seemed to spend more time with and he smiled at her and also cared for her .

Cumulatively speaking, Sasuke actually spent more time with Team 7 than he did with Team Taka.

Sasuke also smiled at Sakura.

Sasuke also cared for Sakura.

So now what?

Sasuke treated Sakura pretty awful and even you can't deny it .

I've never denied that Sasuke treated Sakura poorly. But what you and so many others constantly ignore, is that he treated Naruto far worse, and yet you'll excuse that for bullshit reasons such as how their bond is platonic, as if that makes any difference. Not only that, but people will actually believe that Sasuke treated Karin better than Sakura, at which point I become certain that they literally just don't even have the faintest idea what on earth they're talking about.

[thrawns-babygirl]

Hello there lovely, is there any chance that you could write something - anything really idc if it's a drabble, hc or oneshot- involving tatted Crosshair and his send nudes tattoo?

No pressure of course. love your stuff and keep it up^^

have a nice day <3

This was only meant to be a drabble but I got carried away.

And yes I know this fic starts off almost identically to one of my other fics (I think it was one of the follower celebration ones) but for this specific fic I needed to reuse an old trope dont @ me please I've had writers block （；¬＿¬)

This is also another one of my classic medic!reader fics because I wanted it to be gender neutral and doc is the easiest gender neutral nickname I can come up with.

I am not a creative person lmao.

anywho, this is based off of @cloned-eyes absolutely sinful art, which is honestly some of my favorite Crosshair art of all time.

Rating: E (18+) Warnings: Sexting (I think that's it lmao) Words: 2200+

Been a while since ive written anything this long so i hope my writing is still up to snuff

Masterlist

Where could he be? Where on this maker forsaken facility could he possibly be? You storm through the halls of Kamino looking for Wrecker, the errant clone needing to come and see you for updates to his immunisations before he or the rest of clone force 99 are allowed back out into the field.

It’s not surprising that he’s avoiding you, out of all of them, Wrecker is by far the worst with needles. The man can’t stand them, avoids you like the plague when he knows that it’s time to keep his vaccinations up to date and for what its worth you can’t really blame him. No one enjoys needles.

You huff and place your hands on your hips as you think about where the lovable giant could possibly be. You’ve already checked the mess, the armoury, the Marauder and the training centres with zero sign of him. When you got to the marauder Tech just gave you that look that says, “I understand you need to find him but I’m not going to rat him out” and while you often applaud clones for their loyalty to one another, when it stops you from doing your job it makes you want to rip your own hair out in frustration.

You make your way over towards their barracks, hoping and praying to whatever deities that will listen that you’ll find him and be able to get on with the rest of your job. You take a deep breath, standing out the front of their doors, before keying in your medical override and stepping inside.

You don’t find wrecker, and you wish you had knocked.

Standing in front of you is Crosshair, in just a towel, dark lines of ink on full display over his tanned body. You’ve never actually seen him without his shirt on before, never needed to. The sniper usually manages to stay out of trouble and doesn’t need any assistance when the boys return to Kamino so you had no idea he was covered in tattoos.  

You run your eyes over his chest, taking in all the impressive art that litters his toned form. The silhouette of his beloved 773 Firepuncher that stretches along his chest, the artfully done letters of aurebesh that stretch above his stomach, the other smaller words and phrases that extend down his hips, tantalizingly low, slightly obscured by the fabric of the towel that’s gripped in his left hand.

You run your eyes up his arm towards his face, knowing that he’s going to be wearing that sickeningly infuriating smirk of his and wanting to avoid the cliché “Like what you see?” you know he’s going to drawl at you like you’re in some terrible holodrama.

As you brace yourself to face him, your eyes catch on a single phrase tattooed on his left arm, slightly more patchy and faded than his other ink as if it were the result of a drunken night out in some shady tattoo parlour in the Uscru District of Coruscant. Two simple words that have a profound effect on your physiology causing even more heat to rush to your face, deepening the blush that you know is already far too pronounced on your cheeks and ears.

“Send Nudes”

You finally have the courage to snap your eyes up to his and just as you expected you’re greeted by his frustratingly handsome smirk, his eyes boring into yours, as if he’s waiting for you to say something, as if this is going to be the final nail in the coffin for your poorly hidden mutual attraction to one another that’s been simmering the last few cycles that’s threatening to reach boiling point as you maintain eye contact.

You lamely open and close your mouth trying to find something to say to the barely covered man in front of you before he decides to end your suffering, breaking the silence with the just as cliché “See something you like doc?” he raises an eyebrow at you before walking over towards his bunk, reaching into a pouch on his discarded armour and producing a toothpick, slipping it between his lips as he looks you up and down.

“I um-” you finally look away from him, suddenly finding the old training posters above his bed intensely interesting trying to figure out what to say to him as if you weren’t just ogling his naked chest and arms for an unprofessionally long amount of time.

You clear your throat “I was just looking for Wrecker… he needs his shots” your eyes dart around the room, avoiding his smug, self-satisfied face for as long as humanly possible.

You cringe at how your voice falters, yours and Crosshair’s interactions are always a battle of wits and snark, constantly trying to one up each other as the rest of the batch endeavour to ignore your vague attempts at flirting with one another. Both of you trying your best to goad the other into making the first move, dancing around the invisible line you’ve both drawn in the sand but never crossed.

From the corner of your eye, you see him walk towards you, you see his arm adjusting the towel around his hips and your eyes are drawn to that stupid tattoo on his arm again, the one that makes you want to throw professionalism out the window and jump his bones regardless of any regulations or rules that would get in the way and muddy the waters.

“Wrecker’s not here” his voice has dropped an octave, as if getting you alone in his room has made him realise that there is nothing physical stopping the two of you from muddying the waters of your relationship and taking that final step. You swallow the saliva that’s started pooling in your mouth, attempting to remind yourself that you’re on duty, you’re in the barracks, any one of the rest of his squad could walk through those doors at any moment an interrupt whatever lewd and improper things you both want to do to one another.

While you were wrestling with your own thoughts and feelings you miss how close he’s managed to get to you, his silent footsteps bringing him directly in front of you and you stare up at him. Has he always been this tall? You lock eyes with him, neither of you saying anything as you just stare at one another, each of you silently willing the other to close the distance between the two of you and take the leap.

He begins moving his face closer to yours, his warm breath brushing over your face, it smells minty you vaguely register as you move your face closer to his, closing your eyes and the distance between the two of you when suddenly you hear loud, boisterous laughter approaching from the other side of the door.

You curse under your breath. Despite this being the whole reason you’re in the barracks to begin with, you would give anything for a few more moments alone with Crosshair. Both of you pull away from one another, Crosshair grabbing a spare change of blacks and walking back into the refresher before the door to the barracks opens and you see the wayward clone himself stare at you with wide eyes. He knows he’s got nowhere to run now as you fix him with a glare that one would assume is because of the amount of time and effort you put into finding him and not because of the fact he just interrupted… whatever was about to happen between you and Crosshair.

You walk out of the barracks with Wrecker in tow, attempting to push whatever it was that was happening with Crosshair to the back of your mind, at least for now.

After another few hours on duty, you finally return to your quarters, sore exhausted and replaying the interaction you had with Crosshair over and over again in your mind. No matter how you try to distract yourself, whenever you close your eyes, you see the dark lines of ink that cover his sculpted body. Does he have more tattoos? Do the go lower? You mind is reeling, and you can’t focus on anything else, you can’t even sleep all you can think about is stupid Crosshair with his stupid tattoos and that stupid send nudes tattoo he has on his stupid arm.

You sigh, picking up your datapad in a vague attempt at tricking your brain into doing something productive when you get an idea. Arguably a terrible and stupid idea that could have a negative affect on your career but… an idea, nonetheless. Sighing and shaking your head you throw your datapad down onto your bed as you stand up to take a shower.

No… this is a terrible idea.

You undress and stare at yourself in the mirror. Maybe… its not a terrible idea? Your mind keeps going back to his tattoos and you decide to throw caution to the wind. Walking back into your bedroom you snatch up your datapad and open an encoded chat with Crosshair’s personal frequency double and triple checking the recipient to make sure what you’re about to do doesn’t end up in the wrong hands before steeling your nerves and standing in front of the mirror. The lighting isn’t the most flattering but you don’t let yourself dwell on that for too long before you strike what you hope is an appealing pose and taking a series of pictures, attempting to highlight your assets.

You flick through the pictures selecting the ones you think are the most flattering and before you have a chance to second guess yourself you send them through to Crosshair with the caption “As instructed”.

You wait for a moment, encrypted chats don’t have notifications for when the recipient has seen the messages so you wait with baited breath for a response. When one doesn’t come immediately you throw your datapad down onto your bed and run your hand through your hair, deciding that maybe he’s just not looking at his datapad right now you finally take your shower, attempting to wash away your nerves and embarrassment, pushing your fear of rejection out of your head as you let the warm spray wash over you.

When you exit the shower and towel yourself off you look at your datapad and see a reply from Crosshair. Your breath catches in your throat as you move to open the message and see that it comes with an attachment.

Holding your breath, you open the attachment only to be greeted by a picture of Crosshair, standing in the refresher in his barracks, wearing only a pair of loose fitting black pants that are pulled down to his thighs revealing what can only be described as the nicest cock you have ever seen. You’ve never thought that cocks were attractive before, but somehow he’s managed to change your mind. It’s long and thick and the way his slender fingers wrap around his girth makes your mouth water.

After spending far too much time searing the sight of it into your memory you read the text that he sent along with the photo just one simple word; “More”.

You dive into bed, datapad in one hand, legs spread however before you get a chance to take and pictures you receive another message from Crosshair, this time there is no text, only a video. You open it and press play.

You watch in pure delight as the recording of Crosshair’s hand moves over his hard, weeping length, his fingers tightening as he gets to the tip creating more pressure around the head. Small sighs and choked breaths can be heard from the audio as his hand works his cock and just as the video ends you swear you hear a whisper of your name.

You scramble to return the favour, attempting to capture the best possible angle as you manoeuvre one hand down between your legs to begin working yourself over. You have the luxury of not needing to share your living space with anyone, so you put on a bit of a show, moaning and whimpering and gasping his name as you touch yourself and push yourself over the edge with a final long moan of his name. Your chest rising and falling as you hit send before you can change your mind or second guess yourself.

Not long after that you receive the final video of the night, your mouth waters and you can feel heat rushing down south again as you watch Crosshair vigorously stroking his cock, muffled gasps and groans coming from his end as he works himself, the head of his cock is so red it’s almost purple and you can see beads of precum leaking out of the tip and running onto his hands as he brings himself closer and closer to the edge. You watch as he bites his lip, face contorting in pleasure as the lines of ink on his skin move with the rise and fall of his chest as he struggles to stay quiet.

He screws his eyes shut and bites his lip so hard you think you see him break the skin, as he stifles a moan of your name, spilling ropes of cum over himself, his hand and his chest, panting before the video ends.

You get one other message from him on the encrypted channel.

>Might need to see you in medbay tomorrow for a busted lip

@where-is-my-mind-tho@antishadow2021 @healingskywalker @crosshairlovebot@ilovestarwarsmen725@vincentferard