#took a good handful of hours but it was fun

[cherrygirlfriend]

Nerd!rafe starts noticing that he has a choking kink(being choked) but afraid to tell reader, until she realises herself and starts having fun with it until she actually does it

Girlll I love your blog

choke me

thank you for the request!! i hope you like this <3 nerd!rafe wants perv!reader to choke him. +18

rafe couldn’t stop thinking about it.

his head had just been in between your legs, your hands tugging on rafe’s hair hair pulling rafe closer to your cunt as his fingers were curling inside of you, hitting the spongy spot inside of you.

“yesyesyesyesyes-“ you moaned, pulling tighter on his hair as your gummy walls clenched and squeezed rafe’s fingers. but once your orgasm finally started subsiding, you let go of rafe’s hair and he climbed up your body, only for you to grab his neck and squeeze slightly, pleasure unexpectedly shooting up his spine and his cock basically jumping in the confines of his boxer shorts as you squeezed harder, making it even harder for him to breathe as you brought his lips to yours. “did so good for me baby…” you mumbled in between blissed out kisses. but the moment you let go of his throat, he couldn’t help but feel a slight twinge of disappointment.

rafe couldn’t stop thinking about it, how good it felt to have you control of if he could breathe, if he deserved to breathe, but rafe had no idea how to even bring it up in conversation. he had always been awkward when it came to any sort of physical affection, and most of his friends weren’t too… experienced when it came to sex, so he knew he couldn’t ask them.

you were on top of him, your hand squeezing his throat as you rode him, mumbles of his name leaving your lips as you threw your head back, rafe’s hands holding onto your hips. “doing so good baby, doing real good for me…” you moaned, squeezing tighter.

rafe woke up with a startle, his skin flushed with sweat, his breaths coming out in a pant. the boy sat up in bed, running a hand through his sandy-colored hair as he took off his sweat-covered t-shirt, only to feel something wet in his boxer shorts. throwing off the blanket, rafe saw a wet spot at the front of the blue fabric, further confirming his suspicions as he lifted the waistband of his underwear. fuck.

later that afternoon, rafe was sitting at his computer, his glasses reflecting r/askmenadvice on reddit, open on a post he had made about an hour ago titled ‘how to tell your girlfriend you like to be choked?’

he was biting on the nail on his thumb as he read over the replies, taking a chug from the diet coke on his desk, a sigh leaving his lips.

u/softelectricity9

just say it to her lol

u/falseboldness

is she into choking you? if so, just try and show her that you’re into it as she’s doing it.

u/SnottyPotty15

Maybe try to ask her what she’s into and then mention what you like.

rafe was startled shitless by the sound of his door opening and banging closed. “hi baby!” a familiar voice called out at the door, causing rafe to abruptly turn off his computer monitor and turn in his chair, “hey, hi, baby…” rafe stood up and cleared his throat, smiling tightly at you as he scratched the back of his neck, “you, uh, you didn’t tell me you’d be coming by…”

“do i have to tell you every time before i come by? i was thinking we could go out to eat.” you grin, cupping his cheeks and pressing a quick kiss on his lips, “what were you looking at?”

“nothing.” rafe chuckled softly before clearing his throat, “i’ll, uh, i gotta return somethin’ to walter. i’ll be right back and we can go out somewhere. how about pizza?”

“mmm… ramen? i’m craving it.”

rafe let out a chuckle and nodded, “alright. be right back.” he said, grabbing a usb stick off his desk before heading out the door, the minute it clicked to a close, you were turning on his computer monitor. honestly, he should know you better by now. of course you were going to snoop. and once you saw what he’d been trying to hide, you couldn’t suppress your grin.

after the two of you got back from the restaurant, rafe was holding you in his arms as netflix was open on rafe’s laptop, only for you to not be paying any attention to it, more focused on looking up at your boyfriend, the screen reflected in his glasses.

“what are you staring at?” he mumbled, his eyes not straying from the screen. “you.” you replied, stroking the bare skin right above the waistband of his sweatpants, rafe’s shirt having ridden up. “and why is that?” the boy asked, his tone slightly amused.

“because.” you moved to straddle him, rafe’s eyes widening in surprise, no longer paying any attention to the show that was playing, “i want you.”

“you- uh-“

you pressed your lips against his to quiet him down before he could even say anything. rafe’s hands went to your hips almost automatically, drawing small patterns with his thumbs.

as your lips moved against rafe’s, your tongue teasing his, letting out a whine into your mouth as your hand went to his throat, gently squeezing. when you applied more pressure, you felt rafe getting hard under you. pulling your lips away from his, rafe looked up at you with half-lidded eyes.

“you know…” you lean close to his ear and whisper, “if you want me to choke you, you can just ask, baby.”

ty for reading! feel free to send reqs and check out my masterlist!

[pome-seed]

The Soldier's Keeper ★ 28

Pairing: Winter Soldier!Bucky x Doctor!Reader

Summary: A trip to the grocery store ends in you and Bucky throwing caution to the wind to enjoy a night of music and festival fun.

Word Count: 3.0k

Warnings: Fluff. Music festivals. Grocery shopping (Awful.)

Authors Note: Let me know your favorite scene from the series so far! I'd love to know. ALSO, if you want to be apart of the taglist, let me know :)

Series Masterlist Next Chapter

“Almost there, doll.”

Bucky slowly lowered you to the ground at the foot of the stairs. You clutched your side as his hands slid from your waist. He gave you a second to catch yourself before picking up your bag. 

“Thanks,” you muttered. You were getting better with walking. You were able to take a few flights of stairs at a time. But sometimes it was just too much, and Bucky had to help you down the rest of the way.

“Ready?” He slipped your bag back on your shoulder. 

“Mhm, c’mon.” You were low on groceries- you usually were, with how little you could afford, but today you realized just how little you had. Trips to the supermarket were usually few and far between. Because it was almost always too overwhelming.

Bucky still wasn’t used to it. He preferred the street markets. But as it got colder, they happened less. So there was no other choice.

Romanian supermarkets were the exact same as any other. They were a bit small, but still brightly colorful and smelling of fresh produce and floor cleaner. 

Bucky’s expression was always a little sour in the grocery store. He wasn’t used to so many options and easily got a little frustrated. 

“You okay?” You tried to suppress a snicker as you caught Bucky glaring as a box of cereal. 

“Mhm.” He grunted.

“You wanna get a box?” 

“No.” He muttered, reading the ingredients. 

“Okay, then let's get moving.” You chuckled, dragging him off by the crook of his arm. 

Most things you could identify simply by the packaging, and you didn’t need any translations. Milk and pasta and meat were all easy to see. But some things still confused you a bit.

So you’d tug on Bucky’s jacket and point at a package with characters and foreign letters. He’d tell you what it was, then you’d pick through the aisle in search of what you really wanted. 

You were getting pretty good at basic conversational Romanian, and with essential question vocabulary. But god, there were so many words in a language. 

And at best you spoke at a kindergarteners level.

Something both you and Bucky were excited to learn about, were Romanian snacks. Bucky, for a different reason. He was exploring food in a whole new way, compared to you. But you still liked trying things.

When you had a little extra to spare, you threw a bag of chocolate croissant snacks in the basket, and maybe a new bag of puffy chips by a name you couldn’t pronounce. Bucky quite liked these little seasoned bagel shaped crisps that taste like pizza.

He also liked pizza.

After checking out, Bucky took the bags from your hands and led you out onto the street. Usually you would just make your way back home after shopping. 

But today was a little different. 

Outside the store, dozens of people gathered in the streets. It wasn’t unusual for people to socialize in the hours of the afternoon, but this was different. Too many people.

“What’s going on?” You peaked around Bucky to try to see down the street.

“I don’t know.” He muttered, lips pulled into a frown. “Stay close.”

You followed closely behind Bucky as he led you through the gathering crowd. It grew denser and denser the further you walked. Bodies shuffled past in a joyful rush.

A father passed you with a little girl sitting on his shoulders. A mother cradling a young boy in her arms followed after him. A gaggle of teens cackled by the sidewalk as they skipped into the street. An old couple walked by the curb, whispering to one another.

People filled the streets in all shades and walks of life.

Against your cautious nature, you smiled. 

“Whatta you see?” You asked Bucky, looking behind you as a pair of little girls holding hands pushed through adults. You ran hard into Bucky’s back with a grunt. You rubbed your nose and looked around his shoulder. More people. 

“Must be a festival,” he looked over at you, smiling at your red nose. 

“Ah,” you nodded.

You’d been to street festivals back home, like pride, and regular holiday themed bar crawls with your friends. This felt a little like that. Families and friends gathering together with grins on their faces. 

This felt a little familiar. A little light. A little like living. 

Just ahead of you a speaker crackled to life as someone started speaking into a mic. You could barely see around Bucky and the others around you, and you hadn't a clue what was being said. Your brows furrowed in confusion.

Bucky’s firm hands settled on your shoulders, gently pushing you through the crowd. He muttered quiet apologies to those around you as he pushed you to the front. His hand slid down your back to rest on your waist as he pulled you back and out of the way of a gaggle of young children running.

He manoeuvred you to stand in front of him, at the edge of the semi circle the crowd had made. 

A man stood with a group of theatrically dressed people, mic in hand. He spoke confidently, gesturing to the crowd. 

You tilted your head, trying to pick up on what few words you knew. 

Behind you, Bucky leaned down, his voice quiet against your ear. “He’s saying they’re dancers.” He whispered. His hair tickled your neck. “This is a theater festival. Groups of dancers are set to perform.” He kept his voice low for those around them listening. The man in the center  walked along the edge of the crowd, jumping about and laughing.

“The company producing the festival is out of Poland.” 

You listened silently as Bucky translated for you. 

“The street is blocked off for the performers.” He muttered, his breath soft against your skin. “Each performance is…” he paused, listening. You suppressed a smile, forcing yourself not to turn back to look at him. “Ah, each performance is inspired by the seasons passing.”

You nodded, shivering when he laughed quietly near the crook of your neck. “They have puppets and customized theater suits.” You kept your eyes on the line of dancers, posed and waiting for the speaker to finish. 

“Is that what the frog’s for?” You whispered. Bucky made a small confused humming noise. You nodded to the right corner of the crowd. “Over there.” 

You glanced back at him, his stubble scraping your temple as he lifted his head to look.

“I’m guessing that’s for the spring performance.” You muttered, catching the scent of Bucky’s faded fabric softener.

“Must be.” He whispered, lowering his head back beside yours. He caught your gaze for a second, almost going cross eyed from how close you were. “The milk will get warm.” He whispered.

“You only live once, right?” You bit back a smile. 

You heard the soft sound of his chuckle as he smiled. “Guess so. They’re about to start.” He nodded to the center.

You gasped, turning your head a little too fast and knocking against the edge of Bucky’s cap. He snickered to himself. The sound was so foreign, but so deeply appreciated. 

Just as you focused in on the performers, the crowd broke behind them, exposing musicians with old looking instruments. From the speaker played a recorded base track. One by one, the musicians jumped in with their instruments. Old guitars, violins, a cello, flutes, wearable drums. 

The soft but powerful noises melted together to create something powerful and rumbling, something beautiful. The dancers in the center, arched and moved like one, a flurry of limbs flowing like water.

You gaped, watching the colorful earthy tones of their costumes flutter through the air. You’d never danced professionally. You’d never even tried. But you could recognise art when you saw it. 

They moved cohesively around the center of the circle, twirling and bending. The women were lifted from the ground in pointed positions, golden cuffs in their braided hair reflecting light as they spun. 

You were entranced, watching with your jaw loose and your hands clutched to your chest. 

In all your time in Romania, you had never spent much outside. 

It was too dangerous to expose yourselves. So you and Bucky usually only went out when absolutely necessary. Work, groceries, laundry, supplies, small doses of vitamin D. 

So maybe you just weren't used to seeing the liveliness of people. Maybe you weren't used to seeing families and friends gather joyously, enriched in the community. 

And as you looked back to see Bucky’s blue eyes catch in the light, a smile soft on his lips, you were grateful. 

In that moment you realized there was a brown tint to his hair, never really black. Never really that dark. 

In the sunlight, you could see all the soft edges and warm colors that were Bucky Barnes. 

He caught you watching him, not phased. His smile spread. You blinked at the sight, trying to smother the pleased feeling in your chest. 

Back in the circle, one of the dancers began to sing. 

You looked back. A woman with hair like fire spun in the center, her red lips spread in a grin as she belted. Her voice was like a gentle breeze, fresh and new. She danced, picking up on the tips of her toes as she hit a high note and arched her back. 

You laughed openly, impressed by her breath control. 

She moved beautifully.

For a moment, you didn’t think of where you were. You didn’t think about the dangers of being outside for so long. You didn’t think about all the witnesses and all the what ifs. 

For a moment, you just enjoyed life.

The rest of the performances continued like that. A flurry of colors and song and dance. At one point the speaker had to come out and ask the crowd to spread out a little. They needed a little extra room for the puppets.

The puppets ended up being these fantastical suits made of paper and fabric, beautifully colored and themed as creatures of the seasons. 

You were impressed by the craftsmanship. 

Bucky guided you back a few steps with his hand on your hip. You barely noticed it as you tried to figure out just how many people were in the giant fox puppet. 

With your back brushing his chest, with a smile on your lips, with the sun on your skin, Bucky took a second to breathe. 

The groceries were still clutched in his metal fist, probably dripping with perspiration by then, but he didn’t care. He just wanted to watch on as people enjoyed themselves.

As children laughed and pointed. As elderly woman gawked and hawed. As young couples swayed in each other's arms. As families explained the show to each other. 

He used to love people watching. And at some point in his life, people watching became his second nature. Sweeping for danger and a threatening gaze. But now, it felt like it had all those years ago. 

It felt like those nights at the drive-in theater, or the music festivals in the park he always dragged Steve to. It felt familiar and innocent and alive.

“Oh my god-” You snickered, gently nudging Bucky in the stomach. You pointed to a small boy- only a few years old- as he ran into the performance. You slapped a hand over your mouth as his mother chased after him. 

Bucky huffed, his chest shuddering against your back. The mother caught the boy just after he managed to yank at the bee puppets wing. His little fists were strong. He yanked a glittering yellow ribbon off as his mother dragged him away. 

He giggled and screeched as the mother apologized and ran back into the crowd. 

The performers seemed practiced in the art of disruption, as they picked back up where they left off.

“Geez,” you laughed, looking up at Bucky. “I bet she’s never taking him to one of these again.”

“She’s got a great story to tell.” He muttered, sweeping a lock of hair off your shoulder. 

You nodded, catching a glimpse of something over his shoulder. “Bucky,” You gasped. “They have a cotton candy stand-” you giggled. You realized just how long it had been since you were at a festival like this. 

Bucky followed your gaze, his initial panic at the sound of your voice dying out. “Cotton candy,” he repeated, finding the giant pink and blue banner. “Should we check out the booths before we head home?”

“Yes!” You laughed, pinching his bicep. He jumped, lifting a brow at you. “Of course we should.”

He’d never seen you like this, he realized. So full of life and unafraid. So deeply human. So deeply you. 

“God, these groceries are going to waste.” He muttered. 

“Most likely,” you cringed through your smile, remembering the few refrigerated items you bought.

He shook his head at you and used a hand at the base of your neck to turn your head back forward to watch the show. The themed dance changed from summer into fall, bee puppets swapping out with deer.

When the performances finally came to an end and were replaced by everyday street musicians, the sun was beginning to set. The crowd began to disperse, but not head home. Life still danced in the streets as people moved through the crowd to the game booths and food stands. 

You could pick out a few booths selling jewelry and home made crafts.

“C’mon, let’s getta look at the food.” You grinned, pulling Bucky by the arm. He followed after you, close and looming, as always.

“What’re you looking for?” He asked, his gaze raking through the crowd. 

You shrugged. “I dunno- there’s so much.” You gasped as you saw a food stand with a delicious looking banner with a collage of pictures of their food. You took a step forward, then stumbled back when a young man’s shoulder knocked into you.

You barely registered it after having been to many bar crawls in your early college days. You were used to stumbling drunkards, laughing and having too much fun to notice who was in their path. 

Bucky pulled you back, his hand sliding from your shoulder, down your arm. He shifted you through the bulk of the crowd until you were in a clearer space. He kept a hand on you as you led him towards the stand you were craving. 

Your mouth began to water at the sight of the open grills in front of you, smoke and seasonings mixing in the air. 

“Buck, what’s that called?” You squinted at the menu, then at whatever the teenage worker was preparing. 

He leaned over your shoulder to get a look. He whispered the name back to you. You repeated it to yourself quietly, trying to get the pronunciation right. Bucky hid his smile. Bucky ordered for you both as you looked down the way to see what attractions they had. 

Mostly shops and a few games for children. 

Most of the snacks nearby were pretzel and sausage related, which wasn’t a shock. Those were two of Romania’s most popular street foods. 

Bucky tapped your shoulder and slid your paper container of food into your hand. You grinned up at the man thankfully. 

“C’mon, let's find somewhere to eat- then get dessert.”

Bucky snickered as you dragged him down the street. 

You ended up finding a small empty spot on a tree planter to sit on. You squeezed in between a few other people and let your exhausted feet rest. 

After the first few bites of deliciously flavored food, Bucky wiped his mouth and lifted a brow at you. “How’s your leg?” 

You shifted your knee and spread your legs slightly. “‘S fine-” you held a hand over your mouth as you spoke through a mouthful. “Little sore.”

“Let’s head home after dessert, yeah? If you strain it too much it’ll heal even worse.” Bucky said, adding a dose of reality to your meal. 

You nodded, taking another bite. “Mkay,” you knocked your shoulder into his. 

On the way back to the apartment, you two found a little bakery selling discounted desserts for the festival. They held an array of familiar desserts, and a variety of foreign ones. On a whim, you tried something new.

You’d seen it before, as it was a famous treat of the area. A papanași. It was basically a fried cheesy donut, like a danish, with a heavy cream dressing and a flavorful fruity jam.

You and Bucky decided to share one together on the walk home. 

You made him cheers your broken off pieces before taking the first bite. It melted on your tongue in a mixture of sugar and cream. You moaned quietly as you savored the flavor. 

Bucky was already tearing off a second piece before you could finish your bite. You snickered quietly at the tinge of blush in his ears, embarrassment flushing him as he greedily enjoyed the treat. 

By the time you reached your building, the sun was set and the world was submerged in a cool chill. Bucky huffed, adjusting his grip on the old groceries.

You went to take your first step up the stairs when he swept you off your feet- literally. You yelped, your sticky fingers gripping his shirt. You would have protested, but realistically, your thigh was burning. You would have only made it up the first few steps on your own.

“Give a girl a warning.” You shifted. 

“Lesson on keeping your guard up,” he muttered, carefully climbing the stairs towards your apartment. 

You lifted a brow at him, tugging on a long strand of his hair. “Oh sure.”

He met your gaze, soft blue eyes creasing at the corners. 

You couldn’t help but smile back.

It was a good day. 

And those were rare.

They were fragile and cherished. 

It wasn’t often you threw caution to the wind to enjoy yourselves. But you didn’t regret it. Not when you got to see Bucky like this, so soft and so free.

Though that night the thoughts lingered.

It wasn’t a mistake. But it was a risk.

A/N: I hope you guys liked this dose of fun! I did in fact do so much research into Romanian festivals and street food.

@rafesgurl @pleasecallmeunhinged @jason-todd-fangirl-14 @frog-fans-unite @lonelyghosts-stuff @cherryandsugar @a-world-with-pure-imagination @unicornqueen05 @cupids-mf-arrow @sharkylalala @littlesuniee @meineguete @hawkinsavclub1983 @theconsultingdoctor10 @dollface-xoxo @bloodmocha @natalia42069 @nicolebarnes @fallen-w1ngs

[oacest]

for someone whos about to have a lot of time on their hands what would you recommend as top oasis gigs to watch (excluding knebworth, corestates, the whiskey, wembley as obvious ones) as you guys seem to have seen a lot of them

YESSSS what a glorious request! we've been training our whole lives 13 months for this moment. gonna take this opportunity to make a general rec list for anyone who might be interested, so pls forgive the inclusion of ones you've already mentioned.

(DISCLAIMER btw that some of these shows were filmed by an audience member with a heinous 90s camcorder, so prepare yourself to endure and eventually enjoy some potato quality recordings. the proshot ones aren't usually much better tbh. accept it, embrace it, love it.)

VITAL OASIS GIG WATCHING (an inexhaustive primer)

knebworth [night one] [night two]. self explanatory. if you haven't seen knebworth idek what to tell you. god tier. they weren't just sipping the good juice this weekend they were chugging it in a competitive keg stand. HIGHLY HIGHLY recommend watching both nights ofc but if you only watch one, make it the second. they pop off juuuust a little harder, the vibes are flawless, and also liam's wearing patsy's huge white sweater because he's a fashion queen he supposedly forgot to pack enough clothes for the weekend <3 <3 <3

g-mex, 1997. this is the show that made me fall crazy in love with bhn. it's the sweatiest liam's ever been and that's saying a LOT. contains this classic moment of liam tenderly toweling the sweat from noel's face between songs. liam's vocals on don't go away literally drove bal to tears.

wembley night one, 2000. let's not speak of night two, but night one was unbelievably good, they both looked the hottest they've ever looked, and noel was flirting haaaardcore with someone (sara???) sidestage/in the audience between songs the whole time.

maine road night one, 1996. both nights are superb and should definitely be watched, but if we're narrowing it down to one or the other, night one contains liam teasing noel about dedicating wonderwall to meg and noel retorting that liam's just peeved bc it's not for him. which could mean nothing.

earl's court, 1995. of "we had sex last night" + afterparty kissing fame. also liam does (for, as far as we know, the first and only time ever) octopus's garden during whatever, which is sooooo important.

corestates, 1996, aka drunk philly. theeee gig of all time in our opinion. an absolute disaster from start to finish 😍. they roll onstage so drunk they can barely walk, much less remember how any of the songs go, and it only gets better from there. not necessarily recommending this one for beginners bc it's more fun if you're familiar with all the songs/interpreting mancunian slurring/their normal onstage behaviour so that the true insanity of what transpires can hit you in full. you may already be familiar with liam getting scared by noel's woos, giving noel a kiss between songs, or noel playing guitar on his knees to liam's utter delight, but every single minute of this show contains something equally as ridiculous, hilarious, and endearing. best viewed with friends imo. and very important to remember that it took place a mere three weeks after knebworth lmao.

radio city music hall, 2000. this one's solid in general but it's included here largely bc noel is high as absolute fuck and basically having sex with his guitar the entire show. particularly during gas panic.

the white room, 1995. competes with g-mex for liam sweatiness factor. everyone here is thirsty beyond belief, most of all the camera operator and editing team. from the general aura it seems likely liam and noel were in the middle of a furious fucking fight immediately beforehand. liam's entire existence in this one defies description. it's less than half an hour, so well worth a quick watch.

glastonbury, 1994. can only find this incomplete version online, so it's also less than half an hour. classic for a reason! liam is so cute in his preppy little sweater with the buttondown collar underneath that andy, who was there with ride at the time, imprinted on it immediately and recalled it years later. mood.

jools holland, 2000. absolute thirst trap of a show. features liam reminding everyone to wear a condom. 👍

nyc hammerstein, 1997. fun fact, any proshot film release of fade in-out from this era features the dubbed audio from this gig, because it's just that fucking good. plus liam's wearing a very silly newsboy cap.

lille, 1997. aka drunk france. very charming, very fun, less chaotic than drunk philly but contains some excellent groping, and liam falling over 🥰.

barrowlands, 2001. really fucking great. noel looks like this. (can't find the full show on youtube but bilibili.com is your best friend when it comes to locating slightly obscure gigs and interviews. let's all say thank you to chinese fans, who work harder than god.)

nippon budokan, 1998. noel does the most astonishing acoustic set you've ever heard in your life, including this unbelievable setting sun/fade in-out combo that will change your brain chemistry fundamentally.

manchester, 2005. despite liam's truly hideous ensemble and the generally evil vibes, this is a solid one. one of the few later years ones we've been able to bring ourselves to watch tbh. contains An Incident that compelled me to make this.

live by the sea, 1995. excellent all around and it feels unreal to have such good footage from so early. liam is unspeakably beautiful, and they get the football score delivered to them halfway through the gig bc they're embarrassing nerds.

Rock in Rio 2001. extremely solid gig, with an absolutely stunning noel solo during gas panic that builds and builds and builds...

this is only a small handful of the amazing shows out there that can and should be watched, but quite honestly you can't miss with oasis gigs. we have yet to find a single one that doesn't contain some kind of weird horniness, particularly exquisite song performance, or mindshatteringly cute moment. it's well worth just looking up "oasis live [year]" and choosing one at random. (tread carefully with anything after 2002 though lol, shit tends to get miserable.)

godspeed, happy watching!

[cherryswithcokediet]

Another stupid thing (+18)

It was a few seconds.

But people had gone crazy.

You were in Jake Shane's studio. You had accompanied Madelyn Cline, your best friend and co-star of OBX. Jake was excited to have you there too and he thought it was a good idea for you to intervene from time to time, but you didn't want to steal the spotlight from your friend since it was a podcast of hers, not about you.

There was an issue that caught your attention that made you look up from your cell phone and turn it off after you were killed three times in a row to the game you had when you were bored. Jake recognized your interest and with sympathy gave you a sign for you to come in but he was already announcing you.

"Well, we forgot to introduce another little person we had around here," he said smiling while Maddie held back the urge to laugh when she saw your scared face. "Please Y/N, sit next to your beautiful friend."

A production person handed you a microphone and you gave him a smile of gratitude. Maddie hit a seat next to her and you with a shy smile sat next to her while she leaned on you.

"Hello," you said laughing. Jake and Maddie held back their laughter when they saw your state. It may be that hours before, while you were having lunch with them, you drank a couple of margaritas too much and now you were not only red from shame but also from the heat of the spotlights and the alcohol that ran through your veins.

"Y/N we were talking about the mullet. What do you think?"

You laughed so much that you threw your head back and looked at Madelyn while she pretended to be unattended.

"Hot" you said without hesitation, you approached the microphone while pointing to nothing. "But do you know it's hotter than mullet?"

Madelyn looked at you smiling and asked "What?"

"Buzzcut"

Your friend laughed so much that she had to cover her mouth with her hand so as not to damage the ears of the people who were going to watch this video. But at this point you had already forgotten that this was going to be on the Internet.

"No, don't laugh, okay? Listen to me, there are many who shave their hair, but there are very few who look wonderful" You said with blushing cheeks and dilated eyes.

"Do you have a person in mind?" I ask Jake funny and integrated.

You nodded with too much enthusiasm and that made Madelyn increase her laughter to the point of hurting her stomach. "Who?"

You snorted with fun and shrugged your shoulders "I would like to have my life a little private, in privacy."

When Madelyn recovered from her fit of laughter, she turned to you and with a mischievous smile said "What would you say to that person if you had her in front of you?"

"Do you want the truth?" You said flirtatious.

They nodded excitedly, although they could already imagine who you could be talking about. Madelyn knew it even when she and Jake started talking about the subject, but the boy didn't miss adding one plus one so that you were talking about Drew fucking Starkey.

"Fuck me, hard or soft." Jake gasped while Madelyn was covering her face for another fit of laughter "Tell me and all this" you said while pointing to your body "It will be all yours."

Before you could say more things, your friend took the microphone from your hand that you hadn't even remembered and you returned to your comfortable seat to continue playing your entertaining game.

It wasn't until the next day that you woke up with an incredible headache and an incessant sound of notifications on your cell phone. There were thousands of mentions on TikTok and Instagram, your friends had filled your cell phone with messages and you had lost calls from your representative.

But a direct message from Jake Shane caught your attention, since all you remembered was having eaten with Maddie and him, while you waited for your best friend to do the interview with him.

@Passthatpuss

I'm very sorry Y/N, I have no idea how it has been

Was able to leak that clip.

Maddie and I was not going to add it so as not to harm you.

I don't know how this could have happened.

I'm sorry.

You let your head fall on the pillow when you began to remember your words, missed internally because whenever you drank more than the bill your mouth spoke more than the account.

An incoming call made you stick your head out from under the quilt, and when you realized who it was, you threw your cell phone to the other end of the room.

No, no, no, this can't be happening to me.

Drew was calling you.

You decided to do what you were best at. Ignore the chaos, which was getting bigger and bigger on the Internet and reluctantly you got out of your comfortable bed to take a shower.

You needed to wake up before committing another stupid thing.

When you turned off the water tap, tireless knocks on your door caught your attention, you quickly took a towel and opened it to see who it was. But you regretted it the second, seeing those blue eyes that you had looked at for so many years that with an impressive speed you closed the door.

But he put his foot in the hole.

His hair was still mullet-shaped but this time of his hair color, he had a little beard just enough so that if something happened the areas where he kissed would itch for a few days. He was wearing black jeans and an oversized beige T-shirt, which made his broad shoulders show.

"No, get out" you said while with your back you tried to close the door, but he was clearly stronger and in the blink of an eye he entered your apartment while closing the door. His eyes ran through your body and you remembered that you were wearing only a towel.

"Did you mean all that?" I asked as he advanced towards you as if he were a predator, you noticed how he got behind you and his hoarse and deep voice murmured over your ear "Do you want me to do whatever I want with you, princess?"

You didn't know where your courage came from, but you nodded sensitively.

He stood in front of you and with one of his smiles, he sat on the sofa and with a wave of his hand he pointed at you "Proven to me."

Nervously, you undid the knot of your towel and let it fall to the floor with a dull noise. You put your hands at your sides and he examined you intensely, as if he were memorizing every millimeter of your body.

Drew slowly got up from his seat and got dangerously close to you. You had to raise your head to look at his blue eyes, but there was still a distance between him and you, under his and now you could only feel his breath against your face while you looked at his lips.

"Do you want me to kiss you?" He asked while his fingers brushed your wrists and raised his hands to your arms, you nodded. His lips were already crashed against yours, they were soft, warm and had a slight mint flavor.

His chest brushed against the buds of your nipples making you moan in his mouth and he took the opportunity to grab you tight by the waist. Your hands went directly to the back of his neck while you stroked his hair and pulled it lower, this time, getting a growl from him.

"You're going to be my ruin, baby" he murmured as he began to distribute kisses along your jaw and descended down your neck, but before reaching more you separated from him.

"We are not on equal terms" you said with a voice full of need when you began to take off his shirt throwing it anywhere in the room, Drew quickly took off his pants and sneakers now also looking just as naked as you.

You took a look at what was hanging between his legs. It was better than you had imagined: thick, long, the pink mushroom head and the best part, it seemed that he was claiming you.

Before he could process it, you threw yourself on him making his reflexes act quickly when you hooked on his waist like a koala. He lifted you below your thighs while he took you to your kitchen counter.

"I need you to fuck me right now" you said urgently, while caressing his shoulders to attract him closer to you.

"No games?" He asked as he began to drag his cock through the slippery folds of your pussy, making you get closer to him.

"No games, please" you begged while enjoying the sensation of his head against your clitoris "I need you inside. Now."

He didn't take long to get inside you and with a moan of both he began to ram you hard and deep. As you had done so many times before in his trailer, or in yours, in his house, in yours. In conclusion, you fucked a lot but not as much as you wanted.

"As tight as ever, baby" Drew began to grope your tits while with his other hand he exerted pressure on the sensitive point of your body. With a tearful look, you attracted him to you while you kissed again and he did something you had never tried before.

He spit in your pussy.

It was a strange sensation that made your skin stand on end. "My God, right now you're becoming my favorite fantasy," he said while spreading his saliva through your folds. You took the hand that was groping and brought it closer to your mouth, inserting two fingers into it.

Drew's eyes dilated, even more if possible, and he clenched his jaw making the thrusts faster. You had to hold on to the side of the countertop so you don't fall backwards.

"You're going to cum for me and then we're going to do it again," he said between grunts and gasps as he squeezed your hips with his hands to lift them a little and get another angle "We have a lot of time to recover, babe. And I'm not going to waste it on someone other than you"

His words activated something inside your body that just when he finished speaking you came all over his cock, causing his orgasm to be unleashed and come along your stomach.

With his help, he lifted you from the counter and cleaned his cum from your belly. When he finished, he kissed you on the forehead and knelt in front of you.

"Good girl" he carefully separated your trembling legs and dangerously brought his mouth towards your center, which was again wet "Ready for another round?"

Her blue eyes distilled fun and mischief, but before you could answer her tongue was already on your clitoris and her hands on your tits. You could only moan and throw your head back while you touched his hair.

And believe me when I tell you that they still lack time.

[thevoicefromanotherworld]

"LET ME TAKE CARE OF YOU"

SOOO I WROTE A FIC WITH X2 LOGAN BASED ON @c0smic-coral IDEA 🖤☝😌

I hope you like it!

WARNING: EXPLICIT SMUT UNDER THE CUT

Logan knew you had feelings for him.

It was obvious, given the blush that crept onto your cheeks every time he spoke to you and how every time he tried to look you in the eyes, you looked away, focusing your gaze somewhere other than him.

If you had been like the other girls he'd met, Logan would have already invited you to have a few beers with him, and you probably would have ended up in his room at the X-Mansion in the wee hours of the morning.

But you weren't like the others.

Logan was having a hard time figuring you out.

You were like a puzzle designed so that he was the only person who could put all the pieces together.

So he waited, talked to you kindly, helped you with your homework, and sometimes taught you how to let your powers not control you.

You weren't very good at it yet; that was the main reason the professor had brought you there, to teach you.

Patience wasn't Logan's strong suit, but he forced himself to have it with you.

It was a Saturday night, the day Charles let students out of the mansion for fun, provided they returned before 11 p.m.

Logan decided that since the mansion would be kid-free, he could enjoy a cold beer while reveling in the silence that filled the air.

Of course, when he got out of bed and went to the kitchen, he hadn't planned on running into you.

You were wearing black pajamas with white moons printed in different places on the fabric.

Logan forced himself not to stare at your bare legs for too long, for fear that you'd catch him doing it and think he just wanted a house from you.

I mean, he'd be lying to himself if he said he didn't want THAT thing from you, but he'd promised himself to take it slow with you.

He gave a half-smile when you looked up from the bowl in your hands.

"Logan," you muttered, almost choking on your saliva, "I didn't expect to see you here."

"I was going to say the same thing," he murmured, opening the fridge so that his broad back, covered only by a thin white tank top, was facing you. "Are you listening to me?"

You blinked distractedly as he leaned against the now-closed fridge, a beer in his hand.

"Sorry… What did you say?" You cleared your throat, slowly composing yourself.

"I was wondering what you're doing here." He took a swig from the bottle. You frowned.

"What do you mean?"

"Well, this is the only night of the week Charles lets the boys out to have fun," he shrugged. "Why aren't you with them?"

"You could say their concept of fun isn't the same as mine," you replied, making him smile.

"I see," he whispered. "So what's your concept of fun, then, Princess?"

You were used to Logan calling you that, but for some strange reason, the way he did it felt more personal this time, more… intimate, if that made any sense.

"I don't know," you blurted out nervously. "I don't like going out to parties," you confessed. "I feel… exposed," you whispered. "I feel like everyone's looking at me, and I don't like feeling that."

"Maybe they're looking at you because they like you," Logan suggested, moving a little closer to you. "Is that what bothers you?"

"Don't be silly," you snorted. "No one's ever going to like me."

Logan's eyes widened, surprised by the coldness of your response.

"Why do you say that?" "—he murmured, watching you firmly.

"Because it's the truth," you insisted. "No matter how many boys I know, they all see me as that friend they call to ask them about their homework, or any questions related to classes," you complained. "I'm never anyone's first choice, and I…" You swallowed hard, blushing violently at the same time. "I'd like to feel something sometime. You know? To feel like I matter to someone not just as a friend, but as something more."

Then Logan saw his chance.

He slowly began to walk towards you, like a wolf stalking its prey, his bright green eyes fixed on you with equal parts delicacy and intensity.

"What would you say…" he began, "if I told you I didn't want to be your friend," he whispered, "that I wanted to be something more than that?"

You took several steps back due to his proximity, and when your back hit the wall, you realized you had no escape.

You were trapped between him and his body.

-I'd tell you you've got the wrong person- you muttered- I mean… I-I've seen the way Jean looks at you, maybe you should tell her this…

-I'd tell her if she's the person I'd want to be with- he whispered- but YOU are that person, y/n

-Logan- you whispered- you don't know what you're getting into, I… I'm not an easy person, I have a lot of problems and I'm not what you'd call normal

-Well, normality is overrated- he smiled- and besides, I don't know if you've noticed, but I'm not exactly easy either- he said- we all have problems, some worse than others, but the most important thing is learning how to deal with them

"You sound just like the professor" you joked, making his smile grow wider

He was succeeding.

He was getting you to relax in his presence, to slowly open up to him.

"Baby, if you keep smiling like that, I'm going to have to kiss you," he whispered, reaching for your hand. "May I?"

Logan took your subsequent nod as a small victory.

He ran his thumb over your bottom lip, memorizing the curve of your Cupid's bow with his touch.

When you opened your eyes slightly, he gave a lopsided smile.

"I know you've been watching me for a while," he murmured, as you listened intently. "I know because I've been watching you too," he whispered, holding your face in his hands. "Let me tell you, you're the most beautiful woman in the entire mansion."

"It's not true," you blurted out quickly, unable to believe the compliment that had just come out of his mouth.

"If you don't believe me, what do you say if I prove it to you?" he inquired. "I know you'd really like that, Princess." He smiled. "I can smell your arousal and hear your heart beating faster in your chest," he whispered. "Your body is betraying you, darling. Are you like this for me?"

"Yes," you answered without giving it much thought, because what was the point of lying?

"I knew it," he murmured, giving a lopsided smile. "How about we go somewhere more… secluded?"

Logan could see the conflict in your eyes at the question. You were deciding what would be best when, unable to stand it any longer, your body betrayed you once again, you leaned in to place your lips on his.

He hadn't expected such a sudden action, but he wasn't going to complain at all.

You placed your lips firmly against his, and instantly he claimed your mouth, as if it were his own, as if this were the place he was meant to be.

The kiss intensified, causing you to wrap your legs around his hips.

He lifted you easily into his arms and walked with you to his bedroom, all the while continuing to kiss you.

When he arrived, he gently placed you on the bed and paused for a moment to look at you.

“After all these months, you’re finally here,” he whispered, positioning himself on top of you. “God, you don’t know how long I’ve wanted this moment to happen.”

“Logan… I… I need you,” you panted, connecting his gaze with yours for a few moments.

“I know, princess,” he whispered, reaching for the waistband of your pants. “Let me take care of you.”

You nodded, letting him know that was what you wanted.

He quickly got rid of your pants and underwear and placed his head between your legs.

His hair tickled your thighs as he moved closer to brush against that spot you so desperately needed him to touch.

He placed kisses on your inner thighs before connecting his gaze with yours.

You thought it was probably the sexiest thing you’d ever seen, Logan’s light blue eyes shining with desire as he looked at you like that from between your legs.

“This is what you wanted all along, right?” "You wanted me between your legs like this, didn't you?" he repeated. "Answer the question, princess."

"Yes, this is what I wanted," you gasped, moving your hips so he'd touch you at once. "Please, Logan…"

Hearing your pleas, Logan wasted no time.

He held your thighs in his hands and ran his tongue over your most sensitive lips before tugging at your clit between his teeth.

You writhed against the bed as he continued his attack between your legs.

You never thought you could stretch them as far as they were at that moment, but you figured there was always a first time for everything.

You tugged at the strands of his hair between your fingers when you felt a familiar pressure on your lower belly.

Logan groaned against you, proof enough that he knew you'd orgasm in just a few seconds.

Minutes later you were lying on the bed, your breathing ragged and your legs shaking, while Logan licked the remains of you from the corners of his lips.

[sunsetmade]

Secrets of Camp

AU Rafe Cameron x Reader

Summary: Two summer camp counselors—one frustrated with the other, the other finding joy in annoying her—find themselves caught in a tangled mess of flustered feelings and cocky attitudes during a break at the spring. But when he asks her to the counselor dinner, will things change?

"Welcome to Camp Evergreen! The next two weeks are going to be full of fun and adventure, so don’t be shy—get out there and make the most of it!"

Christi, the head counselor, had barely gotten through her opening speech when the heat started to settle in, the Southern sun beating down mercilessly. The air was thick and sticky, clinging to everything. I leaned against the edge of a worn picnic table, arms loosely crossed in front of me, doing my best to look focused. It was my first year as a counselor, and the last thing I wanted was to mess it up by zoning out on day one.

The sound of heavy footsteps snapped me out of my thoughts — and cut straight through Christi’s speech. All the campers turned their heads toward the noise, and curiosity got the best of me, too. I glanced over my shoulder... and of course, it was none other than Rafe Cameron.

He strolled across the grass like he had all the time in the world, hair soaked and pushed back messily, a towel slung lazily over his shoulders. I scoffed under my breath and rolled my eyes, turning back around before I stared too long.

“Sorry, ma’am. The waves were calling,” Rafe said, voice dripping with his usual cocky charm.

I shook my head as Christi just laughed, brushing it off with a wave.

“All good, Rafe. Glad you could finally join us.”

Rafe nodded casually at Christi’s words, flashing a quick wave at the campers. A small group of girls immediately broke into giggles, whispering behind their hands.

I rolled my eyes, trying to tune back into Christi’s speech, but Rafe wasn’t about to let that happen. He strolled right up beside me, threw a damp arm over my shoulders, and shook his wet hair, sending cold droplets all over me.

"Rafe!" I whisper-shouted, scrunching up my face as I swatted at him.

He smirked down at me, completely unbothered.

"Yes, princess?" he said, like he hadn’t just soaked me.

I groaned, shoving his arm off and turning back toward Christi, feeling my cheeks heat up.

"Stop it—you’re causing a scene," I hissed under my breath.

Rafe just chuckled, completely ignoring me, and slid his hand down to squeeze my side. I squealed, way louder than I meant to, and an older counselor turned around with a sharp "Shh!"

Flustered, I offered a sheepish smile before spinning back to Rafe—who was laughing under his breath like it was the funniest thing he’d seen all day. I slapped his chest lightly, narrowing my eyes.

"You idiot," I muttered, only to realize just how close his face was to mine.

For a second, neither of us moved. His smile softened, a little less cocky now, and his hand lingered at my side like he wasn’t ready to let go.

My heart hammered in my chest so loudly I was convinced he could hear it. I was about to say something—anything—to break the silence when Christi clapped her hands, jolting me back to reality.

"Alright counselors, split up with your groups!" she called, her voice cutting through the thick, sticky air.

I stepped back immediately, pretending to fix my hoodie even though my hands were shaking.

Rafe grinned like he knew exactly what he was doing to me.

"See you around, princess," he said, his voice low and teasing as he brushed past me, his fingers briefly trailing across my hand.

I stood there for a second too long, watching him walk away, wondering what in the world I had just gotten myself into.

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ

I lifted my oversized hoodie over my head with a tired sigh, finally free after three long hours of wrangling kids. Break time. I dropped the hoodie onto the grass next to where my tank top and skirt were already lying in a messy pile. The sun caught on my white bikini, making it practically glow. I took out my messy bun and shook out my hair, the loose wavy strands falling around my shoulders.

The secluded spring stretched out in front of me, glittering under the afternoon light. I made my way onto the dock, adjusting the straps of my bikini top, then took a few quick steps back. With a small bounce on the balls of my feet, I dove cleanly off the edge, slicing into the water with a smooth splash.

Coolness wrapped around me like a hug, and for a few seconds I stayed under, floating weightless. When I finally surfaced, I blinked up at the bright sky, breathlessly as I pushed my wet hair out of my face.

"Finally letting loose for once?"

I let out a quiet gasp and spun around, nearly slipping under the water again. Rafe stood there, right at the edge of the dock, blocking out the beaming sun like some ridiculous, smug silhouette. He was shirtless, wearing nothing but a pair of red swim trunks, and looking way too proud of himself.

"Jesus, Rafe," I muttered, wiping water from my eyes.

He just smirked wider, crouching down as I swam over toward the dock. His elbows rested lazily on his knees, like he had all the time in the world to watch me flail around.

"You gonna survive, princess?" he teased, his voice low and full of amusement.

I rolled my eyes but couldn’t hide the flush that crept up my neck. I reached out for the dock, but before I could pull myself up, Rafe leaned even closer, his hand shooting out to grab mine.

"Here," he said, way too casually. "Wouldn’t want you drowning after finally deciding to be fun for once."

I took his hand seriously, debating whether to pull him into the water, but I decided against it—couldn’t have him thinking I was too fun. Instead, I pulled myself up onto the dock with his help, feeling the cool air hit my wet skin, sending a slight shiver through me. I walked past him, hoping to shake off my lingering nervousness.

Rafe watched, clearly trying—and failing—to keep his eyes on the top half of my body. He let out a low wolf whistle, grinning wide. “Looking hot, princess.”

I whipped my head back, narrowing my eyes at him. “Seriously, Rafe?” I snapped, sending him a glare that was more playful than I meant it to be.

He just smirked, clearly enjoying the effect he had on me. “What? Can’t help it if you’re looking all kinds of good in that bikini,” he teased, his gaze flicking to my wet body with that familiar, cocky glint in his eyes.

I could feel my cheeks flush despite myself. “You’re unbelievable,” I muttered, trying to ignore the fact that my heart was pounding a little faster than usual.

He leaned in closer, his tone still playful but with a hint of sincerity I hadn’t expected. “Just calling it like I see it.”

I raised an eyebrow, crossing my arms, trying to act unaffected. “Uh huh. Well, keep your eyes on the water, Romeo,” I shot back, giving him a sarcastic grin.

I sat on my striped towel, lying on my back, trying to soak up the sun. Of course, Rafe followed, plopping down beside me with a dramatic thud. I closed my eyes, doing my best to ignore the handsome but infuriating man next to me. The sun felt nice, but I could already feel his eyes on me, the heat of his gaze making me uncomfortable in the best way possible.

I chewed on my lip, knowing he was just waiting for me to notice. Finally, I couldn’t take it anymore. “What do you want, Rafe? Is there a reason you’re bothering me on my break?” I asked, propping myself up on my elbows to look at him.

Rafe ruffled his fluffy hair, looking away briefly before meeting my eyes again with that smirk of his. “Nah, just felt like annoying you.”

I rolled my eyes but couldn’t help the small smile tugging at my lips. “It’s working,” I shot back, my voice dripping with sarcasm.

He leaned back, making himself comfortable on the towel next to me. “Good, ‘cause I’m not planning on stopping anytime soon.”

I sighed dramatically, but I couldn’t suppress the warmth spreading across my chest. The way he looked at me, so carefree and confident, made it impossible not to feel something. It also made me very nervous. “You really need a hobby,” I teased, hoping he couldn’t tell how my heart was racing a little faster than usual.

Rafe chuckled, clearly unfazed. “Oh, I’ve got plenty of hobbies. And you’re definitely one of them.” His eyes glinted with something mischievous, and I couldn’t tell if he was being serious or just trying to get under my skin. Either way, I felt that familiar flutter in my stomach.

I shook my head, trying to hide the smile that was threatening to break through. “You’re impossible, you know that?”

“Yeah,” he said, his smirk widening. “But you love it.”

I snorted, rolling my eyes as I laid back down, letting the sun kiss my skin. “Keep telling yourself that, Cameron.”

But deep down, I knew he was right.

I held my hand in front of my closed eyes, blocking the blinding sun, trying to focus on the warmth of it against my skin rather than the heat from Rafe's presence beside me. His hand was fiddling with the tied bow on my bikini bottoms, and I took a deep breath, desperately trying to silence the butterflies that were fluttering uncontrollably in my stomach.

Ugh, why does he have to be so... distracting?

I kept my eyes closed, trying to pretend I wasn’t aware of him, but I could feel his gaze on me. The heat in my cheeks wouldn’t go away, and I knew I was probably blushing. I couldn’t help it, not with Rafe’s presence next to me—his body so close I could practically feel his breath, his every movement so painfully aware.

“Rafe…” I managed to say, though it came out more like a soft whisper, barely audible over the distant sound of the spring.

He didn’t seem to hear the warning in my voice, his fingers continuing to play with the tie. “Yeah?” His voice was teasing, almost too casual for how much it made my stomach twist.

I swallowed, my voice quieter. “D-Don’t do that.”

Rafe chuckled lowly, like he was enjoying every second of my discomfort. “What? I’m just making sure it’s tied properly. You wouldn’t want it to come loose, would you?”

I bit my lip harder, my eyes squeezed shut, trying to stop my brain from overthinking every single little thing he was doing. “I… I can tie it myself.”

He paused, then leaned in just a little closer, his breath so near it made me shiver. “Are you sure? Looks like you might need a little help.”

My stomach flipped, and I finally opened my eyes, glancing over at him with a frown. “I—I can handle it.”

But he didn’t seem convinced. He smiled, that cocky, teasing smile that made my insides twist even more. “You sure? You look like you’re about to jump in the lake to get away from me.”

I shook my head, my heart pounding. I could feel my cheeks heating up, and I wanted to crawl into a hole to escape this moment. “It’s not that,” I mumbled, trying to keep my voice steady but failing. “I just… you’re too distracting.”

Rafe’s grin only widened. He leaned in even closer, his face just inches from mine. “I’m distracting? You’re cute when you’re shy, you know that?”

I froze, my breath catching in my throat. I couldn’t figure out how to respond. My thoughts were a blur, and all I could do was stare at him, the space between us suddenly feeling like it was closing in.

I hated how one moment I could be all confident when talking to him, teasing him back, and feeling like I had it all together. But then, in a split second, I turned into a nervous, flustered, blushing mess the second he looked at me in that way—like he knew exactly how to make my heart race and my brain short-circuit.

It was like my entire body betrayed me, my words getting stuck in my throat, my cheeks heating up at the smallest thing he did. And god, he knew it. That cocky grin of his? Yeah, he definitely knew.

I shot him an irritated look, trying to regain some control over myself, but the moment our eyes met, I felt my whole body tense up again. “You’re such an idiot,” I muttered, barely able to keep the smile from creeping onto my lips.

He laughed, leaning back on his hands, clearly enjoying my reaction. “I’m not the one who can’t stop blushing every time I say something, though.”

“I’m not blushing,” I snapped, though my face clearly said otherwise.

His grin only widened as he raised an eyebrow, the glint in his eyes telling me that he knew exactly what was going on. “Sure you’re not.”

I rolled my eyes, desperately trying to look unbothered as I tugged at the tie on my bikini top. But the moment my hands were busy with it, I could feel him watching me again. I hated how much it made me second guess every little move.

“I hate how you do that,” I muttered, hoping he didn’t hear me, but knowing he did.

Rafe leaned closer, his voice soft but teasing. “Do what?”

“Make me feel... I don’t know, nervous all the time,” I admitted, barely above a whisper. I was half hoping he wouldn’t hear it, but I knew he did.

His gaze softened just a little, and for a split second, I almost thought he was going to be serious. Almost. Then he smirked. “Well, I can’t help it if you’re so cute when you’re nervous.”

I groaned and looked away, my stomach doing flips. Why was this so hard? Why was it so hard to not be a complete mess around him?

After about ten minutes of peaceful silence, with me tanning and him still sneakily fiddling with the tie on my bikini, he suddenly broke the calm. "You going to the counselor dinner tonight?" His voice was softer now, no trace of his usual arrogance.

I brushed my hair back and glanced at him. "Uh, probably. Why?"

He paused for a moment, fingers lingering on the tie of my bikini, before he sat up, leaning on one arm. "Just wondering," he said, his voice quieter than usual, almost like he was unsure.

I turned my head slightly, trying to act like I wasn’t aware of the way he was still trying to sneak in touches, but I could feel the heat spreading across my skin every time his fingers brushed mine. “I mean, yeah. I don’t have anything else to do.” I shrugged, trying to play it cool, but my heart was already racing at the thought of seeing him at dinner.

He gave a small nod, eyes scanning the ground for a moment as if debating something. "I... I thought maybe we could... you know, sit together?" he asked, glancing back at me like he wasn’t sure if he was overstepping.

I blinked at him, unsure if I had heard that right. "You... want to sit with me?" I asked, my voice quieter than I intended.

He ran a hand through his hair, his usual cocky demeanor starting to falter a little. "Yeah, I mean... unless you don’t want me to or whatever. But it’s just dinner, right?"

It was cute how he was suddenly acting all unsure, but I wasn’t about to let him see that I was completely melting under the surface. I could feel the heat rising in my face again, but I tried to shrug it off. "Well, I guess I can make an exception and let you sit with me.”

His grin returned, more genuine than before, and he leaned back, clearly pleased with the answer. “I’ll be on my best behavior, I promise.”

I rolled my eyes, though I could feel my lips curling into a smile despite myself. “Yeah, we’ll see about that.”

He chuckled, the sound low and warm, and for a second, everything felt a little more... relaxed. It was strange how something as simple as a question could make my heart flutter like this. But with Rafe, everything felt amplified. Every word, every touch, every glance—it was all so much more than I ever expected.

I couldn’t imagine how the dinner would be.

I’m thinking a part two is necessary

[flowery-mess]

thinking about liability in relation to reader x noah, especially the line: we slow dance in the living room, but all that a stranger would see is one girl swaying alone, stroking her cheek

Let me quote your words from earlier “To combat todays sad girl hours” and then you choose the saddest song ever? Not fair…

You’ve been hurt by people. By lovers, friends, family, hell even by strangers. It’s hard to trust someone after all of the disappointments you’ve been through. So you decided to give up on everyone, trust only yourself and become an independent person that doesn’t need others to be happy.

You healed from the past and promised to yourself that you’re not going to let anyone else hurt you again.

You learned to read people, if someone wanted to be friends with you, you analysed them in your head and usually you kept them at arm's length, not letting them close to you, so they wouldn't hurt you.

Relationships? You gave up on them. Your heart has been broken many times and your tears were wasted for those who were not worth it.

You stopped believing in love.

Until you met Noah.

You met through mutual friend at a small get-together in summer. You noticed him the second you walked in, because he stood out from the group of people. Your friend introduced you and you felt something shift inside you when you shook each other's hand.

"You just think he’s hot." you told yourself.

But through the day you two kept stealing glances, he asked you questions when he had the opportunity in the group conversation and his mind was working on a plan on how to steal you for himself somewhere away from the loud group.

When dinner was finished and people divided into smaller groups, he saw his chance. He asked if you’d like to see something cool and even though everything inside you was telling not to go, you went.

He took you on the roof of the house, telling you about this secret place that he discovered when your friend moved here. You drank beer, watched the sunset and talked for hours.

He asked for your number and kissed your cheek before he left.

He texted you the next day and you replied. You told yourself that the conversation will fade in a few days, that it was just for fun.

It was fun, until he asked you out on a date. You had to sit down with yourself and analyse the situation.

“He’s nice, we have a lot to talk about, he’s funny and smart. He’s also attractive. And he didn’t get bored of me after texting for a month. It will be just one date, what can go wrong?” you talked to yourself before you told him yes.

He asked you out again, you did your inner monologue again and came to a conclusion that you learned how to read people and you felt good about Noah. You thought that maybe, finally you found someone who’s worth being vulnerable again. That he’s someone who’s going to change your mind and show you how worthy it is to take a risk.

So you went on a second date. Then third, fourth and then he was asking you if you want things between you to be serious.

You thought “I know him now, I can trust him.”

So you said yes.

Things between you were perfect for the first few months. He never stopped taking you on dates, he said “I love you.”, he bought you flowers every week.

He worshipped your body, he always took his time with you and prioritized your pleasure over his. He learned how to touch you so quickly, he made you feel wanted and desired. He always fucked you like it was for the last time, gently and slowly. His hands were tracing your skin with caution like you were made from glass. He was always whispering sweet words of encouragement in your ear when you came and kissed you hard when his high followed not so long after.

Then he always held you until you fell asleep. You felt safe in his arms.

After all the time you finally felt happy. Someone else made you happy. You thought that maybe you had to go through all the pain to earn someone like Noah.

So why are you now staring at your phone with tears in yours, reading his message over and over “Hi, I’m sorry to do this over a message, but I’m so ashamed I couldn’t look you in the eye when I tell you this. We’re leaving for tour in two weeks and we’ll be gone for two months. I realised that I’m not ready for that, to have a relationship with this lifestyle. I should have thought about it sooner, I’m sorry if I hurt you, it was never my intention. Noah.”

And just like that you’re where you started. You hate yourself for letting him in, for letting him hurt you, for letting someone once again make you feel like a liability.

[galaxiasgreen]

🎣⛵A Fish Out of Water

Shenanigans with minor Ominis/ F!Reader [G-Rated, 4.9k]

“You’ll be back soon?” “Before sundown.” You place a quick kiss on his cheek. “Good luck. I love you.” Everything, he decides, will be okay in the end. Yes, he has to suffer a terribly awkward day out with your terribly awkward father, but for you, he would happily do it. You’re worth it to him. “I love you too.”

Ominis has an important question to ask your father. Your father, however, likes a challenge.

Or, Ominis goes on an awkward fishing trip with his hopeful Muggle father-in-law.

Tropes: humour/ romance/ drama, wizard in the Muggle world, fishing, wizard/ Muggle relations, awkward father-in-law, protective father, asking for the father's blessing, Ominis bonding with his Muggle father-in-law, posh rich boy does peasant pasttime and fails miserably for our entertainment.

AO3 | Wattpad

"He asked you to go fishing with him?"

The sheer horror in your brother Connor's voice makes the low ebb of panic in Ominis' stomach fortify like stone.

When your father first suggested it, a fishing trip in the Yorkshire lakes, Ominis had thought it a jest. A poor one, at that. It's obvious to anyone who knows him that Ominis was raised upper-class, and loath as he is to find commonality with his family, his idea of a day of fun means a fancy dinner, a concert or a spirited night of trivia and debate. Not outdoors activities. Not wrangling fish.

Clenching his wand tightly, he clears his throat and tries to appear nonchalant. "Is that bad?"

"Well, not necessarily," says your other brother Ellian, with more a thoughtful hum than Connor. "A day trip fishing with Papa means he wants to have a proper talk with you. Heart-to-heart."

Your papa insisted, so Ominis, with a furrowed brow and a niggling sense of bewilderment, agreed. Now dread brews in his stomach, a portent of bad things to come. He has no idea what to expect, of the fishing or the company.

"You've all been?" he asks, hoping to scrounge for details.

"Mama and sis have never gone," Ellian says, "but we have."

"Like when I told Papa my wife was pregnant," says Connor, and he grins. "Took me to the centre of the lake and asked me bluntly if I was ready to be a father. Went on about how it was hard work and if I was prepared to sacrifice everything for the next two decades. Obviously I said yes. Then he gave me a pat on the back and we went right back to fishing."

"My last trip with Papa," says Ellian, "was when I told him I didn't want to inherit the family business. He spent the whole time trying to convince me to change my mind. When I didn't budge, he told me he was happy I'd found my life's calling, and then spent the rest of the trip trying to catch more pike than me." He grins. "I won, obviously."

Ominis can feel their gazes on him, expectant, and flushes.

"Well?" Connor prompts. "What did you ask of him?"

Ominis swallows and composes himself. "Well..."

"Oooooh." He laughs, so magnanimous. "Best of luck, Ominis. I hope his answer is resounding."

"A resounding yes, you mean?"

Both of them chuckle, but it's Ellian who answers, "Only if you work for it."

You're fretting over him before he leaves.

"Do you have gloves? You should wear gloves. Your wand works with gloves on, right? It'll be right nippy, and you don't want to catch a chill. Oh, and you'll need something to cover your noggin! Do you have a hat?"

"Darling..."

"And— a scarf! You don't have a scarf, do you? I'll get you one."

He takes your hand to stop you fussing over the coat buttons. "I'll be fine. It's a few hours."

"Just because you're skipping the journey up doesn't mean it won't be cold. I don't want to have to nurse you when you're back."

He smiles. "Doesn't sound so bad to me."

"Hush, you."

Your father comes into the living room, and Ominis dutifully takes a step back – the man stinks of live bait, the grubs in a small bucket hooked over his arm. "Right'o. Ready to go, Ominis?"

"Yes, sir."

"Wait!" you call, dancing over to the door. "I have to get you a scarf!"

"I'll be fine—"

"No exceptions!"

You leave him alone with your father for a moment, and already it feels like a lifetime. How is he supposed to survive several hours of your father's quiet company, in the middle of nowhere, doing something he absolutely hates? Already the silence swells like a tumour, and a great dread roils thinking of what to say or do to dispel the tension.

He vowed to try, even if he hates it. If he doesn't get your father's approval...

"I'm looking forward to this trip," he blurts.

"Oh?" your father grunts. "Are you now?"

Is that surprise, or suspicion? "I've read about many Mug— poets, who have written about Lake Windermere." A place just south of the Scottish border, the largest lake in England. "It is said to be famed for its beauty and magnificence."

"That it is."

"Shame I won't be able to partake."

"It ain't just the view, Ominis," says your father. "Plenty o' enjoyment to be had just being there, too."

Ominis doesn't know how to respond. You return in a flurry, flapping the chosen scarf, and he realises it's not one of his own when you loop it around his neck – it smells like the soap you wore at school, sweet like strawberry laces. Strange, you've started wearing different scents now, but on this it's all he can smell. Your papa grunts, but says nothing.

"Right!" you chirrup. "I'll Apparate Ominis first."

"Right," your father says.

From the living room Ominis reappears in a dense forest, the change of smell and sound jarring. The dirt beneath his feet is damp and uneven, and even with his wand stowed into his pocket for security, he can sense the enormity of hills and mountains that enclose around him. If London makes him feel like a cog in a machine, Windermere makes him feel completely insignificant, one leaf on an ancient grove of oaks. It seems you were right – the scarf cocooning his neck tightly, he's grateful to have something to brace the biting wind, arcing from the lake surface in the not-so-far distance. It ripples, disturbed by other fishermen on the bank.

"Not sure why Papa's asked you to do this," you say quietly, "but he only ever asks my brothers to go fishing on important occasions, so..."

"I'm not sure either," Ominis lies. He'd like to keep this little secret for now. "You'll be back soon?"

"Before sundown." You place a quick kiss on his cheek. "Good luck. I love you."

Everything, he decides, will be okay in the end. Yes, he has to suffer a terribly awkward day out with your terribly awkward father, but for you, he would happily do it. You're worth it to him.

"I love you too."

When your papa Apparates in on your arm, he hacks and lets out a garbled noise, and almost trips into a thick bush of nettle.

"Will never get used to that."

You squeeze Ominis' arm in solidarity before Disapparating away, leaving Ominis alone with the Muggle man he must try to win over.

Ominis almost falls into the lake boarding the boat.

He follows your father's lead to the dock in silence. With his wand away and their arms looped together, he relies heavily on his regular senses to picture the lake. The most prominent thing is the smell, impossible to ignore, from a recent rain, mulchy, wet grass, sharp on his nose with the cold. With the sun peering out from the clouds, the local flora have bloomed, setting off a weak bout of Ominis' hayfever. He tries not to sniffle as the pair of them reach a cluster of fishermen reeling in their boats. They bump precariously against the anchor point, rocking unsteadily on the tide.

"Mind out, now, winds are strong out there," says one of them, no doubt looking at Ominis curiously. "Forecast said it might chuck down later."

"We'll manage," your father says, but then adds, "I got an important day ahead of myself and my... ward here."

Ward, Ominis thinks bitterly. Isn't that promising.

The rental boat appears to be no more than a few planks of wood stuck together with nail. Ominis runs his hand along the surface of the hull, splintered and roughened by years of seafaring, and despairs as the paint flecks away under his touch. Is this thing even safe? When your father clambers in first, the whole thing lurches, slapping the water and spitting foam onto Ominis' boots.

"In you pop, Ominis."

There are too many Muggles nearby to risk using his wand, so he keeps it tucked in his trouser pocket – frankly, entirely useless, when he has to keep his arms out to balance him as the boat undulates beneath him. His toe catches the side – Ominis stumbles, flinging out his arms, just as your father snatches his sleeve, stopping a premature tumble.

"Steady on!" he barks. "Don' want to fall in now!"

All the hairs on his arms raised, Ominis manages to plop down without further incident. How is he meant to fish when he can't even get in the damn boat? Your papa gets to rowing, a small mercy he does it without asking for help, until they're both in the centre of the lake, and land feels torturously far away. From your explanations, the lake itself is fairly narrow but long, stretching over ten miles from north to south, and your father's favourite spot happens to be in the centre of the widest part.

"Windermere's the biggest ribbon lake in the country," he says, opening the fishing kit. "Know what that is?"

"No, sir."

"It's made through a glacial trough." At Ominis' blank face, he adds, "Thousands of years ago, the ice cut into the land, forming valleys that eventually fill with water."

Ominis nods once, even though this information is extremely irrelevant to his enjoyment. After some fussing, your father says, "Righty'o, open yer hand," and places a long, wooden rod into his waiting palm. "It ain't a wand, but it'll do the trick."

"I don't know how this works, sir."

"I'll teach ya, patience."

Ominis futilely hopes that learning the so-called art of fishing will let him appreciate it more. It's very rudimentary sport, in his opinion, that requires him to cast a line over and feed it into the water. Your father teaches him how to thread the spool, how to reel it back and forth, and how best to hook the bait.

"It's live, so they'll wriggle a bit. The pike love it. Go on. Best learn by doing."

Ominis' hand almost refuses to move. He'd rather dunk his head into the lake than stick his hand in that bucket, but with your father's eyes on him, and the question he previously asked thick in the air, Ominis begrudgingly reaches down. The moment his fingers brush the slime of the grubs, his dignity plummets to the bottom of the planet.

"That's it. Now grab one and jab it through the hook."

At this moment Ominis is somewhat thankful he can't see; the sight and feel of the grubs would probably upend his stomach. Blanking out the sensation of the squirming creature between his fingertips, he slides it onto the hook, glad at least for its quick death, something he desperately wants to experience himself, and waits expectantly for his next instruction.

"What are you waiting for? Toss 'er in."

Ominis swings the rod. It's a pathetic gesture – despite the rod's flexibility, the line isn't long enough, and the hook pendulums back and catches his arm. In his surprise, he flinches, ripping clean through his sleeve.

"Oi, now! Hold on!" Your father gets to his feet and unhooks him. "However d'you manage to do that?"

"I don't know," mutters Ominis. "I don't know how to fish."

"Give it more line, then... yes, that's it. Now a good, firm toss..."

This time, when Ominis swings, he gives the rod a bit of an abrupt flick, and the end plops satisfyingly into the water far away.

"Is it done?"

"Right it has."

"What happens if there's a bite?"

"You reel it in, fast as you can."

"What if I'm not fast enough?"

"Then you lose it."

Your father throws his own rod, and then the silence of the lake rolls over them, with only nature itself a witness to Ominis' trepidation.

"And how long will it take for a bite?"

"Could be minutes. Hours. The pike here are tricky little buggers." He settles with his back to Ominis on the opposite side of the boat. "Hope you're comfortable."

There's a breeze on his sleeve, and damp in places it ought not to be. Comfortable is the furthest thing he is.

"Sir," Ominis says instead, "about the—"

"There's plenty o' time for that later," your father cuts across, taking a breath. "For now, let's just fish. It don' need no eyesight or wand waving. Just feel, muscle, and a lot o' luck."

Ominis has only got feel, and he sorely wishes he didn't.

To call what Ominis is doing fishing is to say tripping over one's feet is dancing – blatantly obtuse. The reality of the sport is a lot less romantic than the novels; the only time the line moves is when the wind cuts across it, fanning the ripples in his direction, and each twitch makes Ominis grip harder, numbing his fingertips. He's a beginner, it's true, but he doesn't want to look like a total fool by letting the fish go – the worse he is at fishing, he figures, the less likely your father will say yes – so he keeps his mouth shut and head down, attuned to every tiniest flutter of movement. Minutes pass, or maybe it is hours. They eventually blur together in boredom.

"You've been courting a long time now, with my daugh'er."

The words instantly scatter the mist gathering in Ominis' mind. He sits upright.

"Yes, sir."

"What sorts o' things you two do when you're together?"

"Mostly exploring, sir. She enjoys going to new places."

"You've been sensible?"

"Always."

"Mmm. And d'you think I'm a coot?"

"I'm... sorry, sir?"

"Stupid. Do you think I'm stupid?"

It's so unexpected he doesn't know how to respond. "No... sir?"

Your father drags a hand through his straggled moustache. "Then d'you really think I don' know what's going on when she retires to her bedroom early and then next day comes down to breakfast lookin' like she ain't slept a wink?"

Oh no.

"We did the exact same thing when I was your age," he says, "only the ol' fashion way. Climbing out the window to see our beaus. You having your... vanishing magic doolally don' mean I don't know what's it you're both up to at night."

Embarrassment wells up his cheeks. Oh, god above, how do I answer this? "I— I promise, sir, we weren't doing anything—"

"I'm not cross with you," your father says dismissively. "I can't stop where she goes or what she does no more. I'm cross you two thought you could hide it. Even her mama cottoned on – and where'd you think my sweetling gets her obliviousness from?I don' want her pregnant before she got a ring on her."

A tumble in the lake might be easier to endure. Ominis decides to interpret him entirely by the face of his words.

"So... does that mean—?"

"Oi now, mind yer line."

Ominis withholds a sigh and squeezes his fishing rod. "Yes, sir, I am minding the line."

The water gurgles suddenly on your father's side. His line constricts, the boat jerks.

"Great Scot! Pay attention now, lad!" He pulls the rod in, frantically reeling the spool as the boat rocks with the struggle. "We've got a big one!"

Ominis cranes his neck to face the madness. With one mighty pull, the fish lands right into your father's lap, squirming and slapping around. It's about as long as Ominis' arm – water droplets and slime pelt his face.

"What a beaut'! There, now! That's a nice one!"

Then your father unhooks the fish... and lets it go.

"Sir!" Ominis cries, getting to his feet. "The fish—!"

"We ain't gonna' keep them. Just catch 'em and put 'em back."

"What?" It takes all Ominis' restraint not to snap. "But then— what's the point?"

"The point is the catch." Your father resets the line and hooks fresh bait, throwing it back into the lake again. "It's the satisfaction of doing it that's the fun."

All this time and effort just to chuck the fish back anyway? Ominis stifles the frustration that fountains up his throat. The very least he could get was a delicious, fresh fish for dinner! He grinds his teeth in an effort to shut up and not kill his chances stone-dead, plonks back down, and re-channels his efforts into keeping the rod steady.

This, he decides, is the very opposite of fun.

By the fourth hour, the sun has hidden itself behind a thicket of cloud, and a heavy tang flutters through the air. The forecast for the storm seems to be right, but no doubt whilst your father can see the fat, grey clouds rolling overhead, he doesn't budge an inch, or even mention a turn in the weather. Instead he continues to catch and release fish like no one's business – Ominis hasn't had a single bite.

Bad luck, or a sign from the universe?

"This is what I like, between the actual fishing." Your papa shifts again. "Nice, quiet moments to reflect."

I could do that perfectly well at home. "Yes, sir."

"Gives you time to think about life, and the people in it," he says gruffly. "Like I said, the lake ain't just a pretty face. Makes you really confront what you're thinking, what you want in life."

Ominis swallows a nervous lump. Right now, all he's thinking is how much he wants to get off this damn boat, along with a morbid sense of impending rejection.

"My daugh'er says your family weren't the nicest sorts. Didn't like people like me. Regular folk."

His stomach abruptly clenches. He's not sure where this conversation is going – and he's not sure he wants to find out, either. It would almost be kinder to bring back the grubs.

"That's correct, sir," Ominis says quietly. "They weren't the most compassionate."

"Tell me, then... why d'you turn out so different?"

Ominis clenches the rod, simmering on the thought.

"They always treated me poorly. Being blind is considered a disadvantage, even to wizards. I suppose, growing up, I understood what it felt like to be hated for something I couldn't control."

Your father grunts an approximation of agreement. "And there ain't no chance of reconciliation?"

"... Sir?"

"No chance they'll come around?"

It almost makes him laugh. His parents? Marvolo? Accepting? There's a greater chance of flying fish. "Absolutely not. You remember when they burnt down your house?"

"'Course I remember," your father says, with a tone that makes Ominis tighten his eyes. "Didn't get no chance to introduce myself before the flames were eatin' my pyjama bottoms."

"Then why do you ask, sir?"

Perhaps he hopes... the two sides of the family coming together...?

But your father grunts again, rolls his neck to a rain of crackles. "You meet all sorts of people in life, Ominis. Sometimes the good'uns are the people you least expect. Sometimes the bad'uns are family. You need thick skin and sharp mind to sort between the two."

"Your daughter is a good one, sir."

It's the first thing Ominis says with absolute sincerity.

"I know that," your father says. "It's you I can't decide."

Ominis would never admit, the admission angers him. All this time, all the family dinners they've shared, the small, albeit awkward, talks between, whether about you or anything else, and he still doesn't share that trust.

"You broke her heart more times than once." It's not spoken with malice. Just fact. "Will it happen again?"

Ominis quells his temper. Maybe, in a strange way, your father is right about the lake's tranquillity being the perfect vehicle for reflection. His thoughts seem clear and true, in what he imagines it must feel like staring through the water's surface.

"Judge me on my past actions if you must," he says with resolve. "What I feel for her now is absolute and unwavering."

His hand jerks suddenly, and before he can add more to emphasise his point, the rod stretches, pulled by the weight at the end of the line. A catch.

"About time!" your father cries. "Go on, lad! Pull!"

All the advice goes out of his head. He snatches the handle to wind in the spool, but now with the resisting force, it's so much harder to reel – the fish, a big one, judging by how hard it's testing Ominis' core strength, yanks back, as if it wants to pull him in. Your father grabs Ominis shoulders, sticky with grub slime.

"Pull, Ominis!"

Ominis seizes the rod with his free hand. My clothes will be ruined, he thinks distantly. The fish inches forwards, splattering scum over the lake's surface, and eventually over the side of the boat.

"Come on!" your father yells.

Ominis grabs the rod and wrenches. The fish breaks the water's surface in a crash, but the momentum is too strong— Ominis pulled too much—

The full-sized pike slams Ominis squarely in the face. He lets out a garbled cry, trips over the bench and tumbles into the lake. Water rushes over him instantly, soaking his clothes, his coat, his scarf, the rod he relinquishes in his panic. Swimming was not compulsory at Hogwarts. His arms flail. I'm going to die.

Then a hand snatches his collar and plucks him out the water, and Ominis gulps a great swell of air, spitting and expelling lake water from his lungs.

"I got you, I got you. Out you come."

Ominis flops over the boat side and desperately kicks himself over. Air has never tasted so sweet. Neither has the underside, the dry side, of this boat. He takes a few moments re-orientating himself, hyper-aware of how suddenly freezing it is, the spit of rain on his forehead, and warm, salt-laced breath, ghosting over him. Your father tugs the sodden scarf and coat off as he sits Ominis upright and slaps his back.

"There you go, get some breath back in ya. Nothing broken? Breathing aw'right?"

Ominis blinks a few times, calming his fragile, quivering heart. "Y-Yes, I'm okay."

Your father sinks down onto the bench – then has the audacity to chuckle.

"Cor, I tell you, I ain't ever seen anything funnier. Bullseye to the face!"

It burrows right through Ominis' skin, and that rage that's been building all day, stoked by every little nonsensical thing he's had to endure, crashes through every nerve until he can't take it anymore.

"Oh, almost drowning was funny, was it?"

Your father goes still.

"No, please, I insist you continue laughing at my expense!" Ominis snaps. "What a hilarious story it is to take a blind wizard out Muggle fishing!"

"Don' like it, do you?"

"Don't like? I had to sit here in silent boredom for hours! I had to touch live worms! I just got slapped in the face with a fish!"

"Funny it was, too."

Ominis seethes. "I'm wet, I'm cold, I cannot see because you have set some arbitrary rule that prevents me from using my wand, and pardon me if I don't understand this bonding trip you have forced me to go on when you won't even grace me with a proper response to the very important question I have tried to ask you!" He barely pauses for breath. "If I am to be judged by my lack of interest and acumen in fishing, then you might as well put me out of my misery now and tell me you won't allow me to ask for your daughter's hand in marriage!"

As the moment ticks on, and your father doesn't respond, the more the anger bleeds out and regret takes its place. Merlin's beard, he's just yelled at your father. Ominis reels back, struck by horror. All this work to clinch his blessing, and it's as useless as he is at fishing.

But then your father laughs. Hard. Ominis has never seen him go this crazy before. Thunderous and loud, it's only decibels away from creating soundwaves on the lake, and it sounds musically like yours – rich and belly-deep.

"There he is!"

Ominis is so confused he just blurts, "I beg your pardon?"

"You've been tiptoeing around me like I'm an eggshell since I met you, Ominis!" your father says. "My sweetling swears up and down you're the bee's knees. That you have a sharp wit and a clever mind. But I ain't never saw that in you, not a winkle. You were always very reserved with me."

"I— of course I was! You're her father!"

"I'm not asking you to be chummy. Am only asking that you be yourself. Can't judge whether you're a good one for her if I don't see the real you. It's nice to finally see the man beneath all that posh pomp."

Ominis sits down, unsettled, bewildered, still mad but...

"This fishing trip was a test?"

"Don't say it like that, lad. I ain't testing nobody. You want permission, I want conviction. My two sons – they like fishing. It was always easier for them. You, though, you don't know nowt about this world, nor me, but if you truly wanted to marry my daughter, you'd give this a real good go."

"And have I?" he asks sharply, burying his nerves. "Have I given it a real good go?"

"What do you think?"

Ominis snorts. "Putting me in this boat alone ought to be proof enough."

"Right you are. You did all this not for me, but for her. That's a good a sign as any." He clears his throat. "You were wearing her scarf. Her school one."

Ominis blinks. "Her... Hufflepuff one?"

"Yeah. That her house, right? She was wearing yours, too. Your green one."

That's a very deliberate choice on your part. It's one thing to wear a scarf of yours, but another to wear something so intimately tied to your identity. Your father must know the houses are chosen based on intrinsic personality traits – so he knows this is your way of saying, I approve, he is mine and I am his. At Hogwarts it was a sign of serious courtship when one wore the scarf of their lover, especially when that lover was in a different house. You wearing his, too...

Oh, you are clever. Now he feels guilty he got it dunked in lake water.

"I weren't ever good with heart-to-hearts." Your father fusses with his moustache again. "But fishing always let me see someone's true self. You didn't even like the idea, but you tried. That's what matters. So, after all that... yes." He sounds like he's smiling. "Yes, you got my blessing, Ominis. I'd be very proud to call you my own, even if we have nowt in common."

He holds out his hand.

Ominis takes it. Gives it a firm shake. Finds the smallest hint of a smile emerge, the first real one of the day.

"Thank you." He can't help how his voice is bathed in relief. "Thank you, sir, that means a lot. I... apologise for yelling."

"No apology necessary. You're a good lad, I know, and I trust you fine." He clears his throat. "And no more of that sir business. I ain't no sir. If you're gonna' be my son, you call me Papa."

"Thank you... Papa." It sounds awkward, but he laughs it off. "That might take some getting used to."

Your father grunts affirmatively. "Let's get you dried up. Rain's coming in hot now." It prickles the lake's surface like a dim drumbeat. "Shame the spare rod's lost, but, ah, well, what can you do."

He goes to grab the oars, but Ominis smiles and pulls out his wand.

"Actually... I believe there is something I can do."

You're waiting in the woods under an umbrella by the time Ominis and your father come trudging up the hill to meet you. After disembarking the boat with both rods safely stowed away in the fishing kit, your father treated him to tea and biscuits in the bankside fisherman's hut as he warmed beneath a blanket next to a fire. Even though there wasn't much conversation had, Ominis felt oddly at peace at the window, listening to the storm batter the lake as dusk crawled over the horizon.

"How'd it go? Did you catch many pike? Oh, no, you look wet!" You immediately fuss over Ominis with a scowl. "Are you all right? Did you fall in?"

"I'm fine, darling, don't fret."

"Now, actually, he did take a tumble." Your father scratches his neck. "My fault. Accidentally knocked him over."

"What? Papa!"

"You might want to check he's all right. Don't want him to catch a chill."

You take Ominis' lapel. "Straight to bed when you're back! I'll make you a hot chocolate. And I'll get you fresh clothes! Oh, and a hot water bottle too!"

Your father gives Ominis a friendly tap on the shoulder – one that says, there you go – and adds, "Best get him back and settled first. I'll wait, don' worry."

Back in the safety, security and blessed warmth of his home, you help Ominis out his damp clothes first before lighting the fire in the mantelpiece.

"Did it go okay? Really?"

"It was fine, darling. Really."

"What did you talk about?"

Ominis almost laughs. He's not going to tell you exactly what, but he's also not lying when he says, "How to fish."

"Well," you snort. "Sounds dull."

He takes your hand and kisses the ring finger.

"Awful."

Thanks for reading! Please like/ reblog/ comment if you enjoyed <3

Divider credit

[jessxxxfwd]

┈┈┈┈Damn u! (☹︎)

↝ “ I WISH I DIDN'T FALL IN LOVE ” 0004

***Introducing...! Riki.N x F.reader ٭ smau and some writing٭ exes to friends to lovers ٭ some swearing, angst, mainly written this chapter!! ٭ last , m.list, next

***After moving away last year to escape rumors and bullying... You're moving back!! To the same school, same friends and... Your ex bf, who made you move in the first place

You four had decided to just meet at your place, your room would be big enough, you you had all your notepads and classwork books spilled pit on your bed. You'd even found your notes from last year to help Wonhee with her work. You'd bought snacks and even had your tv ready of they wanted to play music or watch movies... You were excited, dressed in your clothes, comfy but nicely. You wanted to make a good impression on Giselle and her mystery friend.

You heard the door ring and pulled on yours slippers, running down the stairs and unlocking the door, Heeseung and Wonhee. wasn't surprising that they arrived together. They'd been neighbors since middle school. "Hi!!! I brought strawberries.. And chocolate.. I was thinking we could like melt it?"

"Aww baby you didn't have to! Thanks! I already got some stuff" you smiled and led them upstairs "so... The pink notebook with the care bear on it is for you Wonnie! And the stuff for this year is like.. Over there! " you pointed at a pile of stuff on your floor he nodded and went over to it. He sat. One headphone in as he flipped through the pages "thanks" he smiled softly. Another ring of the doorbell. "I'll get it!" Wonhee smiled and ran down the stairs before.. Coming up again looking horrified "did.. Did someone invite Niki?"

Your heart froze and you felt everything in your body tightening in fear. Clammy cold sweat. Why was he at your house "what? What do you mean?" You frowned, brain already spiraling "he's probably not at this house... Maybe he's going to another house in this street" Heeseung said, eyes not lifting from the page "no no no, he rang the doorbell! Fuck! Hee.. Go open it.. I can't.." You said to him.

"Please" he just nodded and went down, when he came back up all he said was "Giselle invited him. I don't think he knows it's us tutoring him" "shittt" Wonhee whined "this was supposed to be fun!" She pouted and you smiled at her "it.. It will be. Go melt the chocolate like you wanted to." She nodded back at you and mirrored your smile.

"Okay. I'll be right back!" She ran down and Heeseung followed her "I'll make sure she doesn't blow up the kitchen" he smirked.

You took a deep breath and followed them. Instead of going to the kitchen you went and opened the front door. Shaky hands struggling. "Hi.. " you said harshly. He physically gulped and looked into your eyes "hi, um.. Is Giselle here?" You shook your head no "her and Winter are kinds late.. " he just nodded "can I come in?"

"Sure" you said and opened the door to let him in. You wouldn't ruin this for Winter, if you kicked him out it would upset Giselle and that would upset Winter. plus it was just a study group.. In your bedroom.. With your ex. Fuck.

Hours had passed, Winter and Giselle has arrived merely minutes after Riki.. Like it was somehow planned. But you were overthinking obviously.

Anyways. It went alright. You kept your distance from him most of the night. But he asked you for help on a subject that he knew you were good at. You had to help.

So you nodded and showed him how to, barely uttering a word until... His hand grazed your thigh and he quickly moved it "um. thanks for the help" he stood up and smiled, going back to sit next to Giselle as fast as lighting. Probably faster. He continued to do his work. Pink blush splotches on his cheeks. On your cheeks too. It was awkward and you knew you should feel angry. Disgusted even if it was an accident but.. You had butterflies. Their wings beating harsh against your insides as you remembered when things were good between you, merely a year and a half ago he wouldn't have moved his hand away, it would've rested their like it was meant to connect perfectly with your skin.

What you didn't hear was Giselle whispering to Riki "ahh.. I see..." she giggled and he blushed profusely and shook his head. She just laughed at him and ate her snacks with a smirk. Operation: Get-those-two-losers-to-admit-that-last-year-was-dumb-and-they-were-perfect-for-eachother was working!

Taglist- @t1iqaa @moon3verland @iboughtnjz @bambisnc @nishikio @misamorez @cosmicalily @rikislove @starbyeol1512 @aryannabananas @ihanflwr @yurizzzs

[theshiniestgemstone]

Maybe Y/n and Gideon break into the church after hours to have some fun ;) and almost get caught by security?

oh my goodness yessss. here ya go (thank you for the idea)

warnings: semi-voyeurism, munch!gideon, oral (fem. rec)

It technically started in the parking lot.

The summer air was thick with humidity with an abnormally warm night. The windows were fogged, the kind that used to make you laugh and drag your hand down like Kate Winslet in Titanic, but it eventually turned into just how steamy could you make it.

Gideon's hands were firm around your hips, his belt unbuckled lazily and his mouth chasing yours in desperation. You both should have been ashamed, really. Pawing at one another viciously as if you hadn't done the same thing this morning. And the night before.

Then you pulled back, just a little, breath catching, and asked.

"Do you have a condom?" You shook your hair out. "I don't have my purse."

He froze. Just for a second, but long enough for the spell to crack. His forehead dropped to your shoulder, and he let out a sigh. It was so long and tired that it felt like it had come from years ago.

“…No.” His voice was low, wrecked, full of something that wasn’t just disappointment. Regret, maybe.

You swallowed, staring up at the ceiling of the car like it might offer answers. “Okay,” you said.

You wiped your mouth. "That's okay."

Gideon redid his belt, careful and quiet. You looked away, suddenly aware of the crickets outside.

Neither of you said anything for a beat. Then, casually, like he was mentioning a spare umbrella, he said, “I’ve got some in my desk.”

You turned to him, blinking. “In your desk?”

He shrugged, lips twitching like he didn’t quite want to smile but couldn’t help it. You laughed, low and surprised, your fingers brushing your lips. “Well, what are we waiting for then, Preacher Gideon?”

The two of you climbed out of the car, the night still humid, the church looming against the sky like something sacred and secret. He led you around the side, gravel crunching beneath your shoes, to a discreet steel door nestled behind a hedgerow. He typed in a code that beeped with each press, then a final chirp and a green flash.

He held the door open for you, the gentleman even now.

You passed him with a smirk, and just as you crossed the threshold, his hand landed on your ass, firm and deliberate. You squeaked and whipped around with mock offense, but he was already looking elsewhere, suddenly very interested in the fire exit map on the wall.

You shook your head, smiling anyway. “Unbelievable.”

Gideon unlocked his office door, tapping the lamp to the dim setting. The soft golden glow washed over the room, throwing gentle shadows across the bookshelves, the half-drunk cup of coffee on the edge of his desk, the old photographs pinned to his corkboard.

He crossed the room and opened a drawer, rummaging through a mess of files and mismatched pens. “Still here…” he muttered to himself. He pulled it out, holding it up in the light. "Bingo."

The second he set it on the desk, light, casual, like it was just a pen or a paperclip, things snapped back into place.

You were on the desk before either of you said another word, palms braced behind you on the polished wood, legs parting just enough for him to step in. His hands found your thighs, thumbs pressing into soft skin, and his mouth was on yours again, deeper this time, more assured. Less heat-of-the-moment and more we’re doing this now.

The desk creaked faintly beneath you, expensive and clearly not built for this kind of use, but you didn’t care. Neither did he. His hands slid under your shirt like he’d done it a hundred times, like he knew where to touch. You pulled at his belt as he took a deep breath.

And then he kissed you again, slower this time, like he meant to savor it, like he meant to make this more than just something stolen in the shadows of the night. His fingers danced along your waist, tugging your hips closer until you were flush against him, your breath hitching when he mouthed along your jaw, your throat, the hollow beneath your ear.

The foil crinkled behind you, a promise already within reach.

"Jesus Christ, Gideon, I didn't think you wanted it this bad," you huffed, feeling just how hard he was beneath your palm.

Gideon groaned, low and rough, the sound vibrating in his chest. “I’m not going to last,” he warned, voice fraying as his fingers gripped your hips. Then he was on his knees, like he was praying, like he meant it.

He dragged your pants and underwear down in one smooth motion, baring you to the cold air and the heat of his gaze. You kicked them off carelessly, one foot bracing on the nearby chair for balance, the other hooking over his shoulder like it belonged there.

His mouth found you like he’d been dreaming about it, slow at first, exploratory, but it didn’t stay gentle for long. He groaned again the second he tasted you, like the heat of you knocked something loose in him. His hands gripped your thighs, holding you steady as his tongue moved with increasing purpose, relentless and skilled, like he needed this to live.

You gasped, hips bucking into his mouth before you could stop yourself, your fingers diving into his hair for something to hold onto. The chair creaked beside you, your heel digging into it for leverage, but you barely noticed. Every nerve you had was trained on him, the way he moaned into you, on the sharp drag of his stubble, on the fact that Gideon was on his knees for you in his own house of worship.

You looked down and he was already watching you, eyes dark and blown and almost wild with need.

“Gideon,” you gasped, the name catching in your throat as your stomach tightened. “Fuck, don’t stop-”

He didn’t. He doubled down, one hand pressing to your stomach to keep you grounded, the other slipping between your legs to tease you where you were already trembling. You were so close, already cresting and he knew it.

Then you heard it.

Rustling. Footsteps. The subtle squeak of orthopedic soles on tile.

Your breath caught in your throat, panic wiping everything else clean. “Hide.” You shoved at his head.

Gideon looked up, confused, lips shiny and swollen. “You’re just para-”

“Now.”

You slipped under the desk with all the grace of a panicked raccoon, nearly knocking over a desk lamp. Your heart pounded like a war drum as you pressed your knees to your chest and tried not to breathe.

The door creaked open.

Gideon shot up straight like a kid caught shoplifting, his belt still undone. He slapped a palm flat against the desk to steady himself, accidentally flicking the condom off the edge and onto the floor near his feet.

“Oh, Gideon,” came the familiar, warm voice of Paul, the aging nighttime security officer. “You scared me.”

Gideon wheezed a laugh, too loud. “Yeah-yeah. Just, uh. Writing. Some… stuff. Sermon stuff. For tomorrow.”

Paul stepped inside, nodding, flashlight tucked under his arm like a baton. “Burnin’ the midnight oil. Good for you. Lord loves a hard worker.”

“Yup,” Gideon squeaked. He kicked the condom gently under the desk with the toe of his boot.

“Not a problem, Gideon,” Paul said, already halfway back out the door. But then he paused, turning slowly. “Also… your pants are unzipped.”

Gideon looked down. “Right. Thank you.”

Paul smiled with that tired kind of patience only church employees and kindergarten teachers really mastered. “And I can see your girlfriend under the desk.”

Silence.

“Maybe consider one closer to the ground next time,” Paul added. “More leg room.”

Gideon closed his eyes like he was praying for death. “Will do, Paul.”

Paul gave a cheerful wave, shut the door, and his footsteps faded down the hall.

You crawled out from under the desk like a creature reborn in shame, straightening your clothes as you stood. Gideon just stared at you, pale and wide-eyed, hair completely wrecked. He chuckled. "What now?"

You shrugged. "I'm already down here, so..."

His belt was still undone, zipper halfway down, the condom now sadly resting near the baseboard like it was too embarrassed to be part of this. You reached for him anyway, fingers curling around his waistband with intent.

[rrysbabydoll]

Dark Paradise

Pairing: Harry Styles × Reader.

Synopsis: A night at Berghain with Harry

CW: Explicit smut (18+), semi-public sexual activity, dirty talk, praise kink, a bit of dominance, explicit language.

You stood outside Berghain’s towering concrete walls, heart thrumming too fast in your chest. The low thud of bass leaked through the thick doors. You tugged nervously at the hem of your black dress.

Harry caught it instantly.

“Hey,” he said, low enough that only you could hear. His hand brushed against yours, grounding you. “You alright?”

You nodded, though your stomach was a storm.

Harry smiled, soft and sure, like he could erase the worry with just a look. His short hair was a little messy. His hands were cold when his fingers laced through yours.

“If you changed your mind, just tell me. We don't have to go in if you don't wanna.” he said reassuringly.

“No, no, I want to”

You tried to smile, but it came out a little shaky.

It felt surreal — being in Berlin, standing outside the most infamous club in the world, with Harry Styles of all people. Even after almost two years together, you were still getting used to it: the way he looked at you like you were the most interesting person in the room, the way he made you feel like you belonged, even when the world felt too big.

The line moved forward. Harry squeezed your hand once.

When it was your turn, the bouncer looked you both over. Harry didn’t say anything, just nodded once. You mirrored him, heart hammering. There was a beat of silence. Then, a curt nod, and the door swung open.

The air hit you first — hot and thick, vibrating with sound. The bass wasn’t just heard here, it was felt. The lights were dim, almost nonexistent.

The main floor was massive — industrial and raw, walls streaked with graffiti and years of sweat and smoke. Bodies moved everywhere, a pulsing sea of strangers lost in the music.

You clutched Harry’s hand tighter, overwhelmed.

He felt it. Stopped.

“Hey.” He turned you toward him, hands firm on your waist. “You good?”

You nodded quickly. “Just… a lot. But I'm good I think.”

Harry searched your face, then smiled. “Come on. Let’s dance.”

He pulled you into the throng before you could second-guess yourself. The music swallowed you both whole — heavy techno. Harry didn’t dance like he did on stage. Just raw movement, messy, head tipping back as he lost himself in the sound.

You let yourself be pulled into his orbit.

It was freeing, in a way you hadn’t expected. No one cared who you were here. No phones. No flashing lights. Just sweat and music.

Harry spun you, laughing when you stumbled into his chest. You pressed your face against him, breathing his soft smell in.

“You’re beautiful,” he murmured against your hair. “You know that?”

You looked up, blinking. His green eyes were molten in the low light.

You buried your face back in his chest, heart thudding for a whole new reason.

Hours blurred. You danced until your feet ached, until your lungs burned. At some point, Harry dragged you to a quieter side room — smaller, darker, the music softer but still pulsing.

You collapsed onto a battered leather couch, laughing breathlessly. Harry flopped down beside you, stretching his long legs out.

He tilted his head, watching you. “Still nervous?”

You shook your head, smiling. “Mhm, no.”

For a while, you just sat there. Close enough to feel each other breathe. The noise of the club wrapped around you like a cocoon, but here, with him, it felt quiet somehow.

Harry’s hand found yours again, fingers tracing lazy patterns over your skin.

“You know,” he said after a while, voice low and thoughtful, “when I was your age, I’d have been terrified to come here.”

You blinked at him, surprised. “Seriously? You?”

He chuckled. “Yeah. Didn’t know who I was yet. Thought I had to be what everyone expected. Took me a while to realize... it’s more fun being who you actually are.”

You stared at him, the words sinking deep.

You swallowed hard, throat tight. “I only came because you’re here.”

He smiled, small and soft. “I’ll always be here.”

He leaned in, giving you time to pull away — but you didn’t. You surged up instead, meeting his mouth with yours, a soft gasp slipping between you when he kissed you back, rougher than you expected. His hands slid up your thighs, under the hem of your dress.

You whimpered into his mouth as he pulled you onto his lap, straddling him.

Harry growled low in his throat, hands gripping your hips like he couldn't get enough. His bare hands were cold against your burning skin. You ground down against him instinctively, feeling the hard press of him through his pants.

“Fuck, bunny,” he rasped, breaking the kiss to drag his mouth down your throat, biting gently at your pulse point. You arched into him, fingers digging into his shoulders for balance.

Around you, the side room stayed dark and ignored, everyone else too lost in their own worlds to notice. Or maybe they did notice and didn’t care. Berghain wasn’t the kind of place where anyone batted an eye.

Harry’s hand slipped between your bodies, finding the edge of your underwear. He paused, eyes searching yours — asking without words.

You nodded, breathless. “Please.”

That one word broke him.

He pushed your panties aside, fingertips brushing through your slick folds, groaning quietly when he felt how ready you were for him. His forehead dropped to your shoulder, and he muttered something filthy against your skin.

He circled your clit slowly, making you shudder against him, hips jerking forward.

“You’re so fucking wet, Y/N,” he murmured, voice shaking with restraint. “All for me, yeah?”

You whined, nodding eagerly.

He slid two fingers inside you, deep and slow, and your head tipped back with a choked moan. His thumb kept working your clit, pushing you closer to the edge.

“That's it, love,” he whispered, kissing the line of your jaw. “Take what you need.”

You rode his hand shamelessly, chasing the heat building deep in your tummy. He watched you through half-lidded eyes, looking absolutely wrecked just from touching you.

“Harry,” you gasped, nails scraping over the back of his neck.

“I’ve got you,” he promised, pressing his forehead to yours.

When you came, it tore through you like a wave, leaving you trembling and breathless in his lap. Harry held you through it, murmuring praises against your skin, fingers still gentle inside you until you whined at the overstimulation.

He withdrew carefully, hands stroking soothing lines up and down your back.

You blinked at him, dazed, and he smiled — so unbearably sweet it made your heart ache.

“Good job, lovie.” he said softly, brushing your hair out of your face.

You leaned forward, kissing him again, slower this time. Gratitude and want tangled together between your lips.

Harry groaned into the kiss, shifting under you. You felt him, hard and heavy against your thigh, and smirked against his mouth.

“Your turn?” you whispered, voice still wrecked.

He chuckled lowly, but shook his head. “Later. Wanna take my time with you, bunny. Not here.”

You bit your lip, heart flipping. The promise in his voice was thick enough to drown in.

He helped you stand, smoothing your dress back down with a tenderness that made you melt all over again. You slipped your panties back into place, cheeks burning deliciously at how casually he kissed your thigh before straightening.

Hand in hand, you melted back into the crowd.

The night stretched on. You danced again, kissed in a dark corner, Somewhere in the early hours, when the sky outside started bleeding pale pink, you stumbled out into the cold with him, shivering and giddy.

You leaned into him, exhausted and exhilarated, as he hailed a cab.

As you slid into the backseat, you rested your head on his shoulder.

The cab ride back to the hotel was a blur — all heavy glances, stolen touches, tension strung so tight between you it was a miracle you made it upstairs without tearing each other apart.

The second the door shut behind you, Harry had you pinned against it, mouth hot and hungry against yours.

“You’ve been driving me crazy all night,” he growled against your lips, hands roaming your body like he couldn’t decide where to touch first. “You’ve got no idea, do you, baby?”

You whimpered as his thigh pressed between your legs, pinning you harder against the door.

“Harry, please—”

He pulled back just enough to look at you — his eyes dark, blown wide with need.

“Tell me what you want,” he said, voice low and commanding.

You swallowed, dizzy under his stare. “You. I want you.”

He lifted you effortlessly, and you wrapped your legs around his waist, clinging to him as he carried you to the bed. He dropped you onto the mattress, standing over you for a second, taking you in — your flushed cheeks, your ruined lipstick, the way your thighs squeezed together unconsciously.

“Spread ‘em for me, love,” he said, his voice still sweet despite the moment.

Heat flooded your body as you obeyed, heart hammering.

Harry peeled off his jacket and t-shirt in one smooth motion, muscles rippling under the dim hotel light. His tattoos flexed across his chest and arms, and for a moment, you just stared — overwhelmed by how utterly beautiful he was.

He smirked, catching you looking.

“You okay?” he asks teasingly.

You nodded dumbly.

He chuckled — a low, dirty sound — as he climbed onto the bed, settling between your legs.

“Gonna take my time with you now,” he murmured, voice like velvet over steel. “Gonna make you feel so good, my baby.”

You whimpered, hips bucking up instinctively.

He leaned down, pressing open-mouthed kisses up your inner thigh, sucking little bruises into your skin as he went. You writhed under him, desperate for more, but he took his time — teasing you until you were panting his name like a prayer.

Finally, finally, he hooked his fingers into your panties and dragged them down your legs, tossing them aside carelessly.

“Look at you,” he said, almost reverent. “So fucking pretty.”

He dipped his head and licked a slow, teasing stripe up your center, making you cry out.

Harry groaned against you, like he couldn’t help himself, and then he was devouring you — tongue fucking into you, lips wrapping around your clit, sucking hard enough to make you see stars.

You tangled your fingers in his hair, grinding against his mouth shamelessly.

He moaned when you tugged, the vibration shooting through you.

It didn’t take long — you were already so wound up, so desperate — and when you came, it was blinding, your whole body shaking as Harry licked you through it, murmuring filth against your sensitive skin.

Before you could even catch your breath, he was kneeling up, shoving his jeans down with one hand, cock springing free, thick and leaking at the tip.

Your mouth watered at the sight.

Harry caught you looking and grinned lazily.

He stroked himself once, twice, then lined up at your entrance, rubbing the head of his cock through your folds.

“Still want me, angel?” he asked, voice rough.

“God, yes,” you gasped. “Harry, please—”

That was all he needed.

He pushed in slowly, inch by inch, stretching you open, making you gasp at the delicious burn. He was big, and he knew it — watching your face closely, murmuring soft encouragements as he bottomed out inside you.

“Good girl,” he praised, brushing sweaty hair from your face. “Taking me so fucking well.”

He gave you a moment to adjust, hips rocking in tiny, teasing thrusts that made you whimper.

Then he started moving, slow at first, grinding his pelvis against your clit with every thrust.

You clawed at his back, desperate for more.

“Greedy little thing,” he murmured.

He picked up the pace, slamming into you harder, making the headboard thud against the wall with every thrust.

You couldn’t even think — only feel. His hands everywhere, his cock filling you perfectly, his mouth claiming yours in filthy, desperate kisses.

“I love you so much— oh my god” you babbled, nails raking down his spine.

He groaned, hips stuttering.

“You’re gonna cum for me again, love,” he panted against your mouth. “Cum all over my cock, yeah?”

You nodded frantically, tears stinging your eyes from how intense it was.

He slipped a hand between your bodies, rubbing tight circles over your clit, and it was too much — you shattered around him, clenching so hard he cursed loudly, spilling inside you moments later.

He fucked you through it, slowing gradually, until you were both trembling, gasping, clinging to each other.

Finally, he collapsed onto the bed beside you, dragging you into his arms without letting himself slip free.

You lay there in the dark, sweaty and boneless, heart still racing.

Harry kissed your forehead softly.

“You alright, bunny?” he whispered.

You nodded against his chest, too blissed out to speak.

He smiled, stroking your back lazily.

“That's my baby,” he murmured, pulling the covers over you both.

[clemmmmmmmmmmmmmm]

Extra credit

Warning:Smut,P in v

You didn’t mean to make Tim Drake blush every time you opened your mouth. It just kind of… happened. Something about the way you leaned in when you spoke, or maybe the way you said things like “penetrate the deeper meaning” during lit class with a straight face — it turned the poor boy to jelly.Tonight wasn’t much different. Your dorm room was dimly lit, laptop humming on your desk, textbooks cracked open like old secrets. Tim sat on your bed, posture stiff and eyes flicking between his notes and your legs as you paced the room.He had shown up under the pretense of studying for your shared Psych class. But judging by the way he kept shifting every time you leaned over his shoulder — yeah, he wasn’t thinking about Freud.”You okay, Timmy?” you asked, voice sweet, syrupy. You walked behind him, letting your hands rest on his shoulders. He jumped slightly, then immediately tensed.

“Y-Yeah,” he said, voice cracking like a teenager with a secret. “I mean—yep. Good. Great.”

“You’re so tense,” you said, fingers kneading into his shoulders. You felt the heat radiating off him, the little hitch in his breath. “You need to relax. We’ve been at this for hours.”

“We’ve only been here like… forty-five minutes.”

“Exactly,” you whispered near his ear. “Way too long for you not to be having any fun.”Tim turned to look up at you, mouth parted slightly. He looked like he wanted to say something smart, something confident — but all that came out was a soft exhale.

You smiled.“You know,” you continued, stepping around to stand between his knees, “I always wondered how someone as composed as you manages to look like you’re about to combust every time a girl breathes in your direction.”Tim’s face flushed instantly, eyes darting down, then back up to your face. “I—That’s not—You’re just… a lot.”

“Oh?” you leaned down, palms resting on his thighs, your face dangerously close to his. “Am I too much for you, Tim?”

Bingo.

You tilted your head, looking at him like he was your favorite project.”“Are you telling me you’ve never even kissed someone properly?”His silence was answer enough. You reached up and brushed a thumb along his jaw.

“Do you want to?” you asked.He nodded. You smiled, then leaned in slowly — slow enough to let him pull away if he wanted. He didn’t. Your lips brushed his, soft and warm, and the little sigh he let out made your stomach twist.

Tim kissed back, a little clumsy but eager, fingers twitching on his lap like he didn’t know what to do with them. You straddled his thighs and cupped his jaw as your lips deepened the kiss, taking control — guiding him.When you pulled back, his cheeks were flushed and his lips were parted. You could see his chest rising and falling a little faster.”You’re so sensitive,” you murmured, sliding your hands under his hoodie, fingers brushing his sides. “Bet you’d be a wreck if someone really took their time with you.”

Tim swallowed, hands hesitating at your hips. “You’re really good at this…”You grinned. “I know. Want me to teach you?”He nodded again, slower this time, eyes locked on yours. His grip on your hips firmed just slightly.”Good boy,” you whispered, leaning in to kiss him again, slower this time — tongue teasing his bottom lip, just to feel him shiver.

You waste no time. As your lips part from his, you trail a single finger along the column of his throat, following the quick pulse there. His Adam’s apple bobs when he swallows; you smile, leaning in to murmur against his skin.

“Tonight, you’re learning everything from scratch,” you whisper. “Starting with kissing—now let’s find out what else you’re good at.”Tim’s breath hitches, hands fumbling at the hem of your shirt. Encouraged, you hook your thumbs inside his waistband, tugging his jeans down just enough to expose the waistband of his boxers. He lifts his hips in shy invitation, eyes wide, cheeks pink.

“Good boy,” you praise, slipping one hand around his boxers’ band. Your palm presses against him—warm, eager—and you feel him stiffen immediately. His breath quickens. You press your thumb softly, circling the sensitive head of him through the thin fabric.

He gasps, fingers tangling in your hair. “Oh—oh wow…”

You lean back, grin teasing. “See? You like that, don’t you?” Then, with a soft tug, you pull his boxers down, freeing him completely. He presses himself closer to you, eyes fluttering shut, lips parted. You savor the sight—every flush of his skin, every tiny tremor.

“Spread your legs,” you instruct, voice low and firm. He parts his knees, giving you full access. You kneel between them, raising your hand to draw a slow, deliberate path from the base of him up to the tip. He moans softly, arching his hips as if chasing your touch.

“Is this okay?” you ask, though you already know the answer. He nods, breath coming in short, shallow pants.Your free hand moves to steady his hips, sliding down his side, feeling the tension coil in his muscles. Then you lean forward, letting your fingertips ghost over the head of him. The contact makes him shiver, back arching.“Tim…” you murmur, sliding a finger inside yourself as you watch him. His eyes snap open, shock and arousal mingling on his face. “Watching you is making me wet,” you admit, voice throaty. You bring your other hand back to his, guiding it to where you’ve placed yourself. His fingers brush your wetness, eyes going wide.You guide his hand, showing him how you like to be touched. He’s hesitant at first, gentle—so gentle he almost makes you laugh. “Not bad for a rookie,” you tease, wrapping your fingers around his and moving them in time with your own. He blushes, but matches your rhythm eagerly.

When you’re both hot and breathless, you slide back up onto his lap, positioning him at your entrance. His eyes go huge, heart hammering. You smile softly, supporting yourself on his chest.”Tell me when,” you instruct, and he nods, voice trembling: “I’m ready.”With a gentle lean forward, you guide him inside. He parts you slowly, inch by inch, and you feel every twitch of surprise in him. He kisses your collarbone as you settle down on him, hips rocking against his. The friction makes stars burst behind his eyes. You wrap your arms around his neck, giving him something to hold onto.

His hands find your hips, tentative at first but gaining confidence. You tilt your head back, letting out a low moan. “That’s it, Tim… just like that.”

He moves with you now, every shift deliberate. The heady scent of him fills your senses—his scent, his heat. You lean down to kiss him, tasting yourself on his lips. He moans into your mouth, and you feel his nerves unraveling, giving way to pure pleasure.You guide the pace, slow and steady at first, letting him find the rhythm. Then you pick up the pace, teasingly speeding up, drawing out his moans. “Feel good?” you tease between pants.Tim can barely form words. “Yeah… so good… You’re amazing.”

“You’re doing so well,” you praise, voice breathless. You cup his face, pushing your forehead to his. His eyes flutter closed, and you ride the wave of sensation building inside you both.With every thrust, his confidence grows. His hands tighten on your hips, and he leans into the motion, matching you stroke for stroke. You arch your back, pressing yourself against him, deeper and deeper. Your moans grow louder, and he follows suit, sounds of your pleasure mixing with his own.

When you first feel the coil of release tightening in your core, you slow the motion, pulling him all the way in. You kiss him fiercely, tongue sliding over his bottom lip, sharing the heady warmth of your impending climax. His own release follows, a shuddering exhale as he lets go inside you.You come apart around him, trembling and breathless, chest heaving against his. He slowly withdraws, collapsing beside you, both of you sweaty and sated. You wrap your arms around him, kissing his temple.

“You were perfect,” you murmur into his hair. He blushes, burying his face in your neck.“As perfect as you,” he whispers back. And for a long moment, all is quiet except for your shared breaths and the soft rustle of sheets.

[isacksteban]

Eventually — Lawhan Mixed Media AU

3k words — @pancakes-and-pansexuals @ellearts @v3lnys — masterlist

Jack sat on the floor of his bedroom, his back against the bed frame, his phone clutched so tightly in his hands that his fingers ached. He hadn't touched his bed since Liam had left, when he slept — if he did — it was on the sofa, cold.

The messages were still there, unanswered. The ones he’d sent in a pathetic flurry of panic, desperation, and then — finally — anger.

Jack:

Liam, what the fuck is going on?

Are you actually leaving like this?

At least fucking say something.

Liam.

The last one had been hours ago. Liam had seen them, or at least he would have before turning his phone off. Jack knew because his Instagram comment was still sitting under Hannah’s post, untouched, unchanged.

💛💙

Like it was nothing. Like Jack had been nothing.

His stomach twisted painfully. He had seen the picture before he even saw the messages. Liam’s head in Hannah’s lap, her fingers playing with his hair, the caption so casual it made Jack sick.

“Missed this xx"

Like he hadn’t just spent eight days tangled up with Jack, kissing him, touching him, ruining him.

Jack squeezed his eyes shut. His chest hurt.

He should stop looking. He should turn his phone off, throw it across the room, move the fuck on.

But instead, he opened his texts again. His fingers hovered over the keyboard, shaking.

Then, finally, he typed.

Jack:

You win.

Hope it was worth it.

Jack turned off his phone and threw it onto his bed like it had burned him.

His chest was too tight, his skin too hot, and if he sat here for another second, he was going to lose it.

So he didn’t.

He pushed himself up, grabbed his jacket, and sent a quick message to Esteban.

Jack:

Wanna go out?

Esteban:

Absolutely.

Meet me at my place in 20.

Fourty-five minutes later, Jack was stepping into a crowded nightclub, the heavy bass thrumming beneath his skin. The air smelled like sweat, liquor, and perfume, and the lights were flashing bright enough to make his head spin.

Good.

Esteban spotted him almost immediately, grinning as he draped an arm over Jack’s shoulders. “There you are,” he said, already handing him a drink. “We’re getting very drunk tonight.”

Jack didn’t even hesitate. He took the glass and threw back a sip, letting the alcohol burn down his throat. “Sounds like a plan.”

And for a while, it helped. The drinks, the music, the mindless conversations with strangers — it all blurred together, making it easier to forget.

But then, after what felt like hours, Jack found himself at the bar, nursing another drink, his mind drifting.

To him.

To Liam.

To the feeling of his hands, his mouth, the way he looked at Jack like he meant it.

And now he was gone.

Jack exhaled sharply, gripping the edge of the bar.

Esteban appeared beside him, nudging his arm. “You good?”

Jack forced a smirk. “Never better.”

It was a lie. But if he said it enough, maybe he’d start to believe it.

Jack swirled the amber liquid in his glass, staring blankly at the bar top. His head was pleasantly fuzzy from the alcohol, but it wasn’t enough. Not yet.

He wanted to be gone.

“Hey, you alright there?”

Jack blinked up at the voice. Two guys had slid into the empty seats next to him, both of them attractive in a way that was uncomfortably hard to ignore. The one closest to him had warm brown eyes and a soft smile, his curls slightly damp with sweat from dancing. The other was just barely taller, slimmer, watching Jack with quiet curiosity.

Jack let out a breath and forced a smirk. “Yeah. Just enjoying the drink.”

The one with the curls — Lewis, he was later told — tilted his head. “You here alone?”

Jack shrugged. “Came with a friend.” He glanced toward the dance floor, where Esteban was now very much preoccupied with some — clearly lesbian — girl whose name Jack hadn’t caught. “He’s busy.”

The taller one — Oscar, Lewis had informed him — chuckled. “Looks like he’s having fun.” His gaze flickered back to Jack. “You should be too.”

Jack huffed out a small laugh, shaking his head. “Yeah? And how do you suggest I do that?”

Oscar leaned in slightly, close enough that Jack could smell his cologne. “Well,” he said, grinning, “you could come dance with us.”

Jack hesitated, his heart skipping for a second.

He should say no.

He should go home.

But Liam had left him. Liam had chosen her.

So instead, Jack downed the rest of his drink, set the glass down with a decisive clink, and smirked.

“Lead the way.”

Oscar grinned, grabbing Jack’s hand without hesitation as he and Lewis led him toward the dance floor. The bass vibrated through Jack’s chest, the flashing lights casting shadows over the sea of moving bodies.

Jack let himself be pulled in, his head light from the alcohol, his skin warm from the way Oscar’s fingers laced briefly with his before he let go.

The music was loud, the air thick with heat and sweat, but Jack didn’t care. Not when Oscar and Lewis moved so effortlessly, their bodies pressing close as they found a rhythm.

Jack let himself feel it — let himself move, let himself forget.

Oscar’s hands skimmed his waist, teasing but never pushing, just enough to see if Jack was interested. Jack didn’t pull away. He let himself sink into the feeling of it, the warmth, the weight of Lewis at his back, Oscar in front of him.

“You’re a good dancer,” Oscar said over the music, his breath warm against Jack’s ear.

Jack's lips curled. “I try.”

Lewis’ hand brushed his shoulder, grounding. “You looked like you needed this,” he murmured, low and smooth.

Jack exhaled sharply. “Yeah.”

And for the first time in hours, he wasn’t thinking about Liam.

Not his voice. Not his touch. Not the way he’d left without looking back.

Just this.

Just them.

Just now.

Oscar’s hands squeezed at Jack’s hips, his smile easy, his voice light. “You wanna get out of here?”

Jack hesitated — just for a second.

Then he remembered Hannah’s Instagram post.

💛💙

Jack hesitated. He should go home. He knew that.

But home meant silence. Home meant checking his phone. Home meant Liam.

So instead, he looked at Oscar, then at Lewis, and smirked. “Yeah,” he said, voice steady. “Alright.”

Oscar grinned. “Good choice.”

Lewis’ hand found the small of his back, guiding him gently toward the exit. The cool night air hit Jack’s flushed skin as they stepped outside, but he barely felt it. His heart was pounding, not from nerves, not from excitement — just from the sheer need to not be alone.

Oscar pulled out his phone, calling for a car. Jack barely registered the conversation, his thoughts a jumbled mess. He could feel Lewis still touching him, grounding, casual, like it was the most normal thing in the world to bring home a guy they’d met at a bar.

Jack swallowed hard. This was fine. This was good.

Minutes later, a car pulled up. Oscar slid in first, then Jack, then Lewis. The space was small, and Jack was hyper-aware of how close they were, how Oscar’s knee pressed against his, how Lewis’ hand rested lightly on his thigh.

It was nothing like the last time he’d shared a backseat with someone. Nothing like that night, tangled up in warm sheets, in whispered words, in promises that meant nothing.

Jack exhaled sharply and clenched his fists in his lap.

Lewis must have noticed because he nudged him slightly. “You sure you’re good?” he asked, voice quiet in the dim car.

Jack turned to face him. He should say no. He should get out now. He should—

He forced a smirk. “I’m great.”

The ride to their place was a blur of city lights and quiet laughter, of Lewis’ hand skimming Jack’s thigh and Oscar leaning in close, murmuring something about how Jack looked way too tense.

Jack knew what he was doing. He knew.

He also didn’t care.

The moment they stepped into the house — huge, modern, all sleek lines and dim lighting — Jack barely had time to take it in before Oscar was kicking off his shoes and stretching, smirking over his shoulder. “Come on, mate,” he teased. “You gonna stand there all night?”

Jack huffed out a breath, shaking his head. “Shut up.”

Lewis chuckled, stepping behind him, hands warm as they clung to Jack’s waist, teasing. “That’s the plan.”

Jack turned, heart pounding, and let himself fall.

Oscar grinned as he tugged Jack further into the house, his touch light but steady, like he was giving Jack the chance to change his mind. Jack didn’t.

Lewis was right behind him, warm and solid, his hands never straying too far. “Relax,” he murmured, voice smooth, almost soothing. “We’ve got you.”

Jack let out a shaky breath. He didn’t know if it was the alcohol, the heat of the moment, or just the need to forget — but he wanted this.

Oscar led him down the hall, past dimly lit rooms, until they reached what was clearly a bedroom — soft lighting, sleek furniture, a bed that looked way too inviting. Jack barely had a second to take it in before Oscar turned to face him, his expression unreadable for a moment.

“You sure?” Oscar asked, quiet.

Jack swallowed hard, but he nodded. “Yeah.”

Oscar’s grin softened just a little before he leaned in, close enough that Jack could feel his breath ghosting over his lips. He hesitated for a second, like he was giving Jack one last chance to back out — but Jack didn’t move. Didn’t want to move.

Then, finally, Oscar kissed him.

It was slow at first, teasing, like he was testing the waters. Jack let out a quiet breath against his lips, and that was all it took for Oscar to press in more firmly, his hands skimming down Jack’s arms, warm and steady.

Jack barely had time to process it before another pair of hands curled around his waist, pulling him back against a solid chest. Then Lewis’ lips brushed against the side of his neck, pressing soft, deliberate kisses along his skin.

Jack exhaled sharply, his fingers twitching against Oscar’s shirt before he gripped it properly, holding on as Oscar deepened the kiss. It was different — nothing like what he was used to. It wasn’t desperate, wasn’t rushed. It was deliberate. Careful.

Lewis’ hands smoothed over his waist, anchoring him. “Relax,” he murmured again, his voice low and steady against Jack’s skin. “Just let us take care of you.”

Jack let his eyes flutter shut.

“Undress?” Lewis murmurs once they part.

 

Oscar nods and quickly strips. Lewis is now in only his boxers, leaving Jack the only one still fully covered. A glance at the bed reveals a very hesitant Jack. He's covered practically head-to-toe besides his now hiked up shirt.

 

“Jack,” Oscar breathes, stumbling in his haste to get into Jack's personal space, gently undressing him and tossing his clothes off to the side — none of it mattered now.

 

Jack opens his arms for Oscar to climb onto the bed — his and Lewis' bed. Lewis follows close behind. He wraps himself around Oscar from behind, forcing him closer to Jack's face. Jack leans in, lips brushing Lewis' ear.

 

Jack eventually captures Oscar's lips in a kiss, this one pulling a needy whine from his throat. Lewis' chest presses against Oscar's back, trapping him between them. 

 

“How do you feel about being in the middle, Jack?” Osc asks with a slight grin — hoping Lewis was on the same page as him — the younger Aussie adoring how his name sounds on Oscar's lips.

 

He doesn’t have to clarify; Jack knows exactly what that entails, and the answer is yes. 

 

“Fuck, please— yes,” He almost whines.

 

Lewis' chest shakes with light laughter. He slinks back a little, giving Jack room. Oscar opens his legs, clearly impatient. Jack has to take a deep breath, overwhelmed by the suddenness of everything. 

 

“Here, come kiss me, puppy,” Lewis notices his pause, offering Jack a warm-up.

 

Jack thanks him and leans down. Oscar coos, running his hands up and down Jack's back. There’s movement behind him, but Jack doesn’t stop kissing Lewis. A bottle cap clicks and Jack leans forward even more. 

 

“Didn’t even have to ask…such a perfect puppy,” Oscar praises — noticing how Jack shivers slightly every time he hears the word.

 

Jack hums into Lewis' mouth. Oscar's lube-slick finger dips past his rim, and Jack pushes back for more. He wants it so badly. His hard cock brushes Lewis' thigh, drawing a heady moan from him. Jack smiles against his lips. He slides his hands down Lewis' chest, tweaking his nipples teasingly.

 

Seokmin adds another finger, followed quickly by a third. 

 

“Did you get hard at the bar? Be honest, puppy,” Oscar lilts.

 

Jack inhales deeply, feeling even more heat rise to his face and neck. 

 

“Maybe…a little,” He admits, feeling more embarrassed than he probably should be — given their situation.

 

“Aw, I’m flattered, puppy,” Lewis smiles, emphasized by a bend of his leg, brushing Jack's cock intentionally.

 

Jack's elbows shake, and his dick twitches. 

 

“We’re glad you liked it, baby,” Oscar hums, pushing his fingers in deeper.

 

Jack's body lurches forward when Oscar's fingers press into his prostate. He drops his head onto Lewis' shoulder, panting hard.

 

“Give me a mark, please— bite me,” Jack requests, voice breathy right by Lewis' ear.

 

Oscar swears softly. Jack tips his chin to get a better angle before pressing an open-mouthed kiss to Lewis' shoulder. He kisses up Lewis' neck, then back down. When Oscar slips a fourth finger inside, Jack yelps, biting down on Lewis" shoulder.

 

Jack's dick jumps against Lewis' abdomen, and he latches on harder. Oscar reaches between Jack's legs to give his cock a tug, and Jack whimpers against Lewis' skin. 

 

“Osc— ngh, fuck you… m’ready, no more,” Jack pants, looking back at Oscar.

 

Oscar pouts at him. 

 

“That’s no way to ask for something, baby. What about manners?” Oscar tuts.

 

He knows better. 

 

“Please—ah, fuck— please, I’m ready– ready for you…please, fuck me, Oscar,” He corrects himself, pulling out his neediest tone.

 

He arches his back more, pushing himself back onto Oscar's fingers. What can he say? He knows how to get what he wants.

 

Jack looks pleased. He also looks like he can tell Jack's putting it on. Hopefully, he won’t call him out on that.  

 

“Alright… you first,” Osc concedes.

 

Lewis sighs, relieved. Jack wonders if he got to cum earlier, or if they’ve been waiting. Either way, Jack's ready to get on with it. 

 

“Come on, puppy, fuck,” Lewis urges.

 

 

They all catch their breaths for a while. The bed is warm, and all of them are sweaty. 

 

“Shower?” Jack suggests.

 

Lewis and Oscar agree. They file into the bathroom and quickly get under the spray. Jack's legs shake a little as he stands, but Oscar and Lewis make sure he’s steady. 

 

“You were so good, Jackie,” Oscar praises while they rinse off.

 

“So were you two, thank you… I liked tonight a lot,” Jack informs.

 

Lewid chuckles warmly.

 

“I guess we should do it more often, then, huh?” He grins.

 

Jack shrugs and nods, feigning nonchalance (an act that none of them buy). He’s already putting his numbers in their phone and mentally preparing for a round two.

The next morning felt heavy.

Jack woke up in his own bed, alone. The sheets tangled around his legs, cold where they should've been warm. He lay there for a while, staring at the ceiling, trying to gather the energy to even be awake. Eventually, he reached for his phone out of habit, swiping through notifications with half-lidded eyes.

And then he made the mistake of opening Instagram.

There it was — Liam’s latest post, right at the top of his feed.

A picture of Hannah. Again.

kkofficial✅️

liked by twitch, hannahstjohn, and 69,307 others

kkofficial summer lovin'

view all 400 comments

hannahstjohn happened so fast <3

kkofficial <33

flyingdutchman where's my wedding invite?

kkofficial they're being sent out monday

flyingdutchman can i rsvp rn??

kkofficial man idk ask the wife 😭

hannahstjohn yes u can, call me maxie!

She was laughing, golden in the sun, her arms around Liam’s neck as he grinned into her hair like she was the best thing that ever happened to him.

Jack stared at it longer than he should have, heart twisting in that familiar, ugly way.

The caption was even worse.

"Summer lovin' "

Jack dropped the phone onto his chest, closing his eyes.

Bullshit.

He should be used to this by now.

Should be.

But it still felt like Liam had reached through the screen and slammed his fist right into Jack’s chest, knocking the breath out of him without even knowing it.

Or maybe Liam did know. And he just didn’t care.

Jack scrubbed his hands over his face and forced himself to get up.

It didn’t matter.

It couldn’t matter.

He wasn’t going to let it.

Not today.

hannahstjohn

liked by kkofficial, user, and 7,794 others

hannahstjohn at least i only had to pay for two tickets! 🧸

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user 🧸??

user it's a bear..?

user a teddy bear

user yes girl i'm aware LMAO

user do we get a wedding invite too??

hannahstjohn dw!! i'll post everything xx

kkofficial let's see if it's the same next time around

hannahstjohn now you know it wont be!!

Jack caught the look on Lance’s face before he even opened his mouth.

He hesitated, shifting his weight, then gave a short breath of a laugh, like he couldn’t believe it. Like he wished he could un-know whatever had just clicked into place in his head.

But he didn’t say anything.

Didn’t ask. Didn’t confirm.

He just clapped Lance lightly on the shoulder, like he always did, like it was just a normal day, and said, “C’mon. Let’s go for a walk.”

Lance nodded, almost too fast, relieved. Grateful.

Neither of them brought up Liam.

Neither of them said a word about what Jack had just figured out.

They walked down the empty path by the water in silence, Lance kicking at stray stones, Jack keeping pace beside him like a shield against the weight of everything they weren’t saying.

It took about a kilometer before either of them spoke — Jack forgot how good Lance was at this stuff.

outbacksprout✅️

liked by kkofficial, maplemarauder, and 82,184 others

outbacksprout just me and the kitty (not pictured: lance taking pictures of me on our colour accidentally coded walk)

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maplemarauder i might be a pro photographer

outbacksprout something like that

kkofficial you're looking good, jack

this comment is no longer available

[astrangeghost]

Awaaah thanks for the tag <33!

favorite season & weather combo: Winter with snow!!! its so lovely when it snows... so magical ^_^

something you'd love to do right now: chat with friends in a call, I love calling with people 'n sharing shows with each other and just talking away :)

something you're excited for in the future: TOMORROW! I WILL BE IN (another!) CALL WITH MY FRIEND AND WE'RE GONNA KEEP WATCHING SCHOOL LIVE!!! We called for an hour or so today and we watched up to episode 5, so tomorrow when we're free we'll continue the series :))) BUT! In terms of a more future future thing I'm looking forward to, Madoka Magica Walpurgisnacht Rising... ohhhmy god

song for a good day: either I Wanna Be Your Boyfriend by Hot Freaks or Harvey by Her's

song for a bad day: either We Took Each Other's Hands by Kaori Sawada or I Hate My Mom by GRLwood

how are you today?: I'm good! A lot of fun things happened today- I met one of my cousins and went to the bakery, I baked cookies and ate cake to celebrate my uncle's birthday, and I had that wonderful aforementioned call with friends where we watched the new MCB episodes(and then got in a call with one of those friends to see more school live!) andddd no pressure but I'm tagging @thecosmicsailor @lovecorecatz and @timeandspaceparade !

i've never made a 'get to know your mutuals' tag game myself so i'll do it now:

Favourite season & weather combo?

Something you'd love to do right now?

Something you're excited for in the future?

Song for a good day?

Song for a bad day?

How are you today?

& tag a few people

and I'll answer them too:

Favourite season & weather combo?

i like when it's spring just going into summer and it's warm enough to go out in a tshirt but not hot enough that you don't have to avoid the sun. bonus points if it just rained

Something you'd love to do right now?

eat a snack and watch some youtube (i am going to do that in a moment)

Something you're excited for in the future?

i'm honestly really excited to just go home again after this week sgdhgd i am at my parents' for easter but i miss my apartment

Song for a good day?

Forces of Nature - Charming Disaster

Song for a bad day?

Two Minutes - The Amazing Devil

it's basically my go-to song when i'm really really upset about something

How are you today?

had a bad dream and had to sort out some paperwork stuff, so not too great but not too bad either

tags under the cut bc i'm tagging like 50 people lol

@nerdofmanymediumsandfandoms @limedew @wormikins @jonathan-sins @stresseddepressedandtryingmybest @shadowsmasquerade @evieebun125 @defenestratte @columbidaae @megahealthycake @chemicalbrew @absolutely-xantastic @alienpupy @aro-carpenter @likesomethingblooming @seranhere @dusty-doodles @shining-dawn @midwestfuckboi @sexymeowmeowfishfish @braveheartdarlings @project-catgirlpillar @lemonnaa @a-matter-of-yeet @necromycologist @wormomens @seafoam-sky @radellama @polekands @old-pine-woods @m0ths0ft @transmasc-latias @ard1 @idkmad @dreadful-dreadful @starsinyourskyes @all-seeingelias @cinnamonglaive @mint1eaves @ravenlotus @mellith @cain-rising @souplover13 @tiny-tinx @necromanticalscience

[jamandjazz]

My formal apology for the forgetting what Two Bit looked like when I was doing speed draws @jasmine145946 😔

[inkyrainstorms]

@aroace-get-out-of-my-face YOU. This. Woe be upon ye *casts animation on your fic*

they break my heart man <\3 I simply had to