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alaiasole · 2 days ago

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🍸 welcome to solè’s bar 🍸

tonight’s special: reiner braun, heavy hands & the breakup you didn’t cry about

→ reiner x black!reader

→ smut | sneaky link au | post-argument tension turned nasty

→ tags: f!reader, oral (f receiving), fingering,backshots, spit play, creampie, face-grabbing, filthy talk, aftercare

a/n: this one is for you @th3pinkphant0m <3333333

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you slide onto the barstool like you’ve done it a thousand times because you have. same corner seat. same dim lighting. same strong drink.

the second you sit, one of the usual bartenders looks over at you and grins. glances over and smirks. “reiner,” he calls toward the back, eyes still on you. “your girl’s here..”

and that’s when you see him.

reiner steps out from behind the swinging door like he owns the place. black tee hugging his arms, towel slung over his shoulder, that usual lazy smirk tugging at his lips. he doesn’t even say anything at first. just walks over slow, reaches for your hand, and kisses it soft, warm, a little dangerous.

“your usual?” he murmurs.

you nod, trying not to smile too much. “mmhmm.”

he starts making it without another word, like he already knew. like he expected you tonight.

“so,” he says, sliding the bottle across the counter. “what brings you here?”

you glance down at your phone, pretending to check the time. “date night.”

he stops mid-pour. “and you came here first?”

you shrug, casual. “wanted a drink before the date.”

he raises an eyebrow, gives you that look. “or you just wanted to see me.”

you stare at him for a second. sip your drink. don’t answer. because yeah, obviously. but you’re not about to say that.

he grins like he already knows.

and you just keep sipping.

you guys still arguing?” he asks, leaning forward a bit, arms resting on the bar like he’s not even trying to act casual about it.

“yeah,” you sigh, swirling your drink. “i think i’m gonna break up with him.”

he raises an eyebrow. “you sure?”

you nod, not even hesitating this time. you were tired. done. “mhm.”

“want me to look out for you?” he asks, quieter now. there’s something in his tone low, easy, like he already knows the answer.

“i mean… you can,” you shrug, “but i think i’ll be fine.”

“we can meet up,” he says, voice dropping even lower, “after my shift ends. soon.”

you give a small smile. “sure.”

your phone buzzes against the bar. you glance down at it, then blink. oh. right. the reason you were even here.

“he’s here,” you say, setting your glass down, mostly empty. “i’ll go to our table.”

you tip the rest of the drink back, trying not to look at reiner too long, but he’s already grinning.

“see you later,” he says, winking.

you roll your eyes, standing up, smoothing your dress. he watches you the entire way to your table, the smirk never leaving his face.

a soft whistle leaves him as you walk away. fuck. he was in trouble.

you sit down at the table just in time to watch him walk in. he’s already smiling like everything’s fine comes up, hugs you, kisses your cheek like you didn’t almost block his number yesterday. you roll your eyes. he sits across from you like this is just another regular night.

he leans forward a little. “you look nice.”

you shrug. “thanks.”

“so…” he clears his throat. “how was your day?”

you blink at him. “you really wanna talk about my day?”

he hesitates. “i mean… yeah. i’m trying.”

you shake your head. “why do you always try when we’re one argument away from being done? like, you don’t see a pattern here?”

he frowns. “what are you talking about?”

“i’m talking about the fact that we fight every week. we barely talk unless we’re apologizing or trying to fix something. this isn’t a relationship anymore, it’s just damage control.”

he sighs, rubbing his face. “so what, you wanna break up?”

you nod, simple. “yeah. i do.”

he scoffs, leans back in his chair like you’ve just stabbed him in the chest. “wow. just like that?”

“it’s not ‘just like that.’ this has been coming for a while. i’m tired.”

“you’re tired?” he repeats. “you’re tired but i’m the one that’s been chasing you around for the last three weeks trying to talk.”

you laugh under your breath. “chasing me? you mean blowing up my phone after gaslighting me for two hours straight?”

“gaslighting? are you serious right now?” his voice rises, a little too loud for a nice bar. “i never gaslit you. you always twist shit, like i’m the one in the wrong.”

you glance past him. reiner’s behind the bar, watching.

he mouths, you okay? want me to step in?

you shake your head. not yet.

“you know what your problem is?” your boyfriend goes on, jabbing a finger toward the table. “you’re never satisfied. i try. i try and you always act like it’s not good enough.”

you blink slowly. “because it’s not. i don’t want the bare minimum anymore.”

he leans forward now, voice quieter but sharp. “so that’s it? you’re really doing this?”

you lift a brow. “i’ve been done.”

“you don’t even wanna try?” his voice cracks a little, like he’s actually shocked. “you’re really just gonna walk away?”

“what is there left to fix?” you say. “we keep doing this. over and over. i’m tired.”

“so what, that’s it?” he mutters, eyes narrowing. “you’re just giving up.”

“no,” you say. “i’m choosing peace.”

he goes quiet. jaw clenched. fuming.

you glance past him again. reiner’s still behind the bar, watching. this time, he tilts his head gesturing toward the back, just barely. come here.

you look down. laugh to yourself, just once.

“you know what?” you stand, grabbing your purse. “i’m done.”

“you’re seriously leaving?”

“you seriously thought i’d stay?”

you push your chair back and walk off. he calls your name like it means anything now, but you don’t stop. you don’t even look back.

you walk into the room, shutting the door behind you with a quiet click. it’s a little dim in here, warm, the low hum of music spilling in from the bar.

reiner’s already waiting, leaning against the table, arms crossed. he looks at you like he’s been doing nothing but waiting.

you set your purse down. exhale.

he comes toward you, slow, like he knows you need a second. “you okay?” he asks.

you nod.

he raises an eyebrow. “words.”

“i’m okay,” you say, soft.

he watches your face for a beat. “i didn’t like how he was talking to you.”

you shrug, a little smile tugging at the corner of your mouth. “good thing i broke up with him.”

“yeah,” he says, stepping a little closer, voice low. “but no man should ever talk to you like that. ever. you understand me?”

you nod again. quieter this time. “yes. i do.”

“exactly.” his voice drops a little deeper. “that won’t ever happen again.”

your eyes flick down to his mouth.

his drop to yours.

you reach for him fist curling around the waistband of his pants and pull him in, crashing your lips against his.

he kisses you back, hands already sliding under your dress, grabbing your ass without hesitation. his mouth trails to your neck, warm and open, kissing, biting, sucking until you sigh his name against his skin.

he lifts you up like nothing sets you on the table, steps between your legs, doesn’t stop kissing you. your hands tug at his shirt, his at your thighs, the tension crackling like it’s been waiting to snap all night.

you don’t need to say anything. you already did

he kisses you like he’s starving like he’s been waiting for this. like he needs it. his mouth moves down your body, slow, teasing, until he’s on his knees in front of you.

he pushes you back a little, big hands spreading your thighs, and fuck he just looks for a second. like he’s admiring something precious. something he’s not rushing. he runs his hands up your legs, dragging them over your thighs, then under your dress, tugging your panties down.

“these in the way,” he mumbles, tossing them somewhere behind him.

you’re already squirming, propped on your elbows, watching him like you know what’s about to happen.

he leans in and kisses the inside of your thigh. then the other. slow. patient.

then, finally, he licks one long stripe up your pussy tongue flat, pressure perfect and you let out the softest “fuck…”

he groans against you. you can feel it. the vibration. the way it goes straight through you.

he’s into it. like, really into it.

he starts to work his tongue in circles around your clit, then sucks it into his mouth, wet and slow, and your hips jump. you gasp, grabbing at his hair, anchoring yourself.

“oh my god…”

he doesn’t stop.

his hands grip your thighs tighter, holding you still while his mouth moves everywhere licking, sucking, teasing. like he’s trying to memorize every reaction. and the sounds?? wet and nasty and loud like he’s not even trying to be polite about it. he wants you to hear it.

you can’t stay quiet. your breath stutters. your moans come out soft at first, then higher, faster, all broken up. your back arches. your thighs try to close around his head but he doesn’t let them.

“reiner—” you moan, breathless. “shit—”

he hums into your pussy. on purpose. his tongue flicks over your clit just right and you twitch, damn near sobbing.

and then then he slides two fingers inside you. slow at first, then curling just right. just deep enough. and it’s a wrap.

you’re fucking done for.

you throw your head back, one hand gripping the edge of the table, the other buried in his hair. your legs are shaking. you’re trying to close them, trying to run, and he just grips you harder.

“uh-uh,” he murmurs, mouth still on you. “take it.”

and you do. you fucking do.

you can’t even control it anymore. your hips grind against his mouth, chasing the pressure. his fingers fuck you slow but deep, curling up against that one spot that makes you see stars.

you start babbling—“fuck, fuck, fuck, oh my god, don’t stop, please—” and he doesn’t. he won’t.

your orgasm hits so hard it snatches the breath out of your lungs.

you moan his name, long and high and shaky, and he keeps going, tongue flicking over your clit while his fingers drag it out, make you ride it.

your whole body trembles.

you go still. soft. weak.

he finally pulls back, lips shiny, licking them slow like he just finished a meal.

he looks up at you.

“told you,” he grins. “that shit’s mine now.”

he pulls back with a wet kiss, breathing hard, mouth shiny from everything he just took. you barely get a chance to recover your chest still rising fast, your legs still trembling before he stands up, towers over you, and grabs your face to kiss you again.

deep. messy. all tongue.

his lips crash into yours like he’s trying to taste what he just made you do. like he missed your mouth the whole time he was down there. he kisses you with both hands on your face, then down your sides, then gripping your waist as you pull him in closer.

your hands move fast, reaching for his belt. fumbling, needy. and he’s just watching you do it with that look his eyes on your lips, your face, your fingers.

he unbuckles the rest himself, pulls his pants and boxers down in one motion, and that shit swings. hard. thick. already leaking.

you glance down and your breath stutters. like damn.

he doesn’t give you time to think about it.

“come here,” he mutters, voice low and dark.

he pulls you closer to the edge of the table by your thighs, spreading them wide, holding the backs of your knees as he positions himself. you lean back on your hands, legs up, open for him heart racing, pussy still pulsing.

he rubs the tip against you, slow at first. just teasing. slick already.

you moan, biting your lip, hips twitching.

“yeah?” he says, voice deep, eyes locked on you. “you want it?”

“yes,” you breathe.

he pushes in slow.

and it’s a stretch. a deep one. he’s thick, heavy, and he goes in inch by inch like he’s savoring every part of it.

you whimper, head dropping back.

“fuck…”

“you take it so good,” he groans, jaw clenched. “just like that.”

once he’s all the way in, he leans over you, one hand braced on the table, the other gripping your throat not tight, just resting there. just enough to make you feel it.

he starts to move. slow strokes at first. long. dragging all the way out and sliding back in deep.

the sound of your pussy welcoming him is loud, slick and wet, and he leans in close to your ear.

“you hear that?” he whispers. “that’s mine.”

you’re moaning with every stroke. it’s nasty. grown. his hips slapping into you as he fucks you deeper, harder, the table creaking underneath you.

his hand on your neck tightens just a little. not choking just a reminder. just enough to make your eyes flutter.

he kisses you again. messy. tongue dragging against yours while he fucks into you. you’re whining into his mouth, grabbing his shoulders, trying to hold on.

“look at me,” he says. you do.

and that’s when he does it.

he pulls you up by your neck, just slightly, and spits in your mouth. slow. on purpose.

you moan, eyes wide, letting it hit your tongue.

“say thank you,” he says, not stopping his thrusts.

“thank you,” you breathe, barely able to get it out.

“good fucking girl.”

your back arches. your mouth stays open. and he just keeps going.

he pulls your legs up even higher, folding you a little, pushing deeper, his thrusts getting sharper, faster.

“that’s it. take it,” he growls, hips snapping against you. “you fucking take all of it.”

your body shakes again. you’re close. your legs trembling, your moans getting higher and faster.

“reiner—i’m—i’m gonna—”

“do it,” he says, breathless. “cum on this dick. i want it.”

your orgasm hits like a wave. hard. you cry out, hips jerking, thighs clenching around him as he fucks you through it, eyes locked on your face.

and even when you come down, he’s not done.

he pulls out, panting, grabs your waist, and turns you around.

“get up.”

you do.

he bends you over the table, presses your chest down, ass up. he spreads you open with both hands and groans under his breath.

“fuck… look at you.”

he slides back in like he never left.

you moan.

he starts pounding you from the back no warning, no warm-up just straight power. depth. skin slapping. the sound of your ass clapping against him echoing off the walls.

pow. pow. pow.

you’re gripping the table. moaning. sobbing. biting your arm.

he grabs both your wrists and pins them behind your back, holding them with one hand, the other on your waist.

drooling. shaking. the only sound in the room is the smack of his hips, the wetness between your legs, and your breathless cries.

he pulls you up by your arms so your back is arched into him. his mouth is right at your ear.

“pussy still talking”he grunts. “she don’t wanna let go.”

you whine something desperate.

he kisses your shoulder. your neck. still fucking you.

his pace doesn’t slow. it just gets nastier.

you’re so loud. not even trying to hide it. moaning through your second orgasm as he holds you close.

“i got you,” he whispers. “let go for me.”

you cum again this time harder, legs shaking under you, knees giving out. and he still doesn’t stop. he keeps fucking you through it until you’re whining into your arm.

then he starts to lose it.

his breath gets ragged. his hips stutter.

“where you want it, baby?” he groans, grabbing your ass tighter. “inside?”

“mhm,” you moan, breathless. “cum in me…”

“say that shit again.”

“cum in me.”

he groans loud, grabbing your hips, slamming into you a few more times, and finally, he lets go. deep inside. he fills you up, groaning your name, collapsing over your back.

and you both just breathe.

sweaty. panting. ruined.

he kisses your shoulder again, still inside you, whispering, “you’re fucking mine.”

and you just smile. weak. shaking.

“i know.”

he grabs a towel and gently wipes you down, still kissing your thighs between every pass. you flinch a little when he gets too close still sensitive but he hushes you. “i know, baby. almost done.”

he pulls your panties up slow, making sure they’re not twisted, and then grabs your jacket. nah his. he wraps it around your shoulders and helps you into it, then zips it up for you. you’re still catching your breath, legs trembling a bit when you try to step down.

“shit,” you mumble, grabbing the edge of the table. “my legs…”

he chuckles. “it’s okay. i got you.”

next thing you know, he’s lifting you into his arms, bridal style. “told you i’d carry you,” he says, pressing a kiss to your temple.

the place is quiet now. lights dimmed. doors locked. bartender’s wiping down the last glass behind the counter, smirking to himself like he already knows. you don’t even look his way.

reiner pushes the door open with his back and walks you out, slow and steady like he’s not in a rush for the night to end. he gets to the car, opens the door, and gently sits you down inside. straps your seatbelt for you. smooths your hair back from your face.

then he walks around, slides into the driver’s seat, starts the car.

you lean your head on the window. you don’t say anything, and neither does he.

he just… drives.

#solè’s bar ☆#aot #aot x black reader #attack on titan #anime x black!reader #anime x reader #x black fem reader #aot x reader #reiner braun #reiner x reader #reiner x you #reiner x black reader #aot reiner #attack on titan reiner

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cherrylacuna · 2 days ago

Note

ugh i’m in love!!!! more hayden and age gap please 🙏🏼

say one where the reader is 27, her and hayden just got married and she’s in labor with their first and it’s a bit of a hard journey? maybe add some real life elements like the current conspiracies going on about his ex and her kid?

Heavy Labor

Summary: You’re 27 when you marry Hayden Christensen. The world calls it impulsive, dramatic — just another Hollywood fantasy. But when labor begins with your first child, everything becomes real. The pain, the fear, the haunting whispers of his past… and the quiet question you’re too scared to ask: Will he stay?

Pairing: Hayden Christensen x f!Reader

Word Count: 4.9k

Warnings: childbirth (described in detail), medical setting, epidural mention, fear of abandonment, emotional distress, crying, references to past relationships and online gossip/conspiracies, soft!dilf Hayden, lots of tears, insane levels of tenderness and love

Note: First of all, I cried a lot while writing this. I cried like a baby. I felt like the main character and wrote from the heart, just as I would feel and be honest. I think Hayden is the greatest father in the world, and if he were to become a father for the second time — he would be the best father for the second time. Secondly, I'm not a fan of Rachel, but I don't talk bad about her. I have certain prejudices against her, but I try not to make any accusations against her.

You wake to the sound of birdsong and his breathing.

It’s too early. The sun hasn’t even cracked through the curtains yet, but you know something is off before your eyes even open. Your body feels heavy, too warm. And under your ribs, a tight kind of pressure is building — not quite pain, but not comfort either. You press a hand to your stomach, swollen and taut beneath the soft hem of one of Hayden’s old t-shirts.

You’re thirty-nine weeks and three days pregnant.

Your due date came and went, and now every moment feels like you’re waiting to fall off a cliff. You’re exhausted, irritable, swollen in places that shouldn’t be swollen, and the world won’t stop whispering about things you wish you didn’t know.

Hayden shifts behind you, arm curling instinctively around your belly in his sleep. You feel the weight of his hand, and despite everything — the ache in your back, the pressure, the way your thoughts are starting to spiral — you press your body closer to his.

You whisper, “I think it’s starting.”

He’s instantly awake. “What? Are you okay?”

You nod, but your lip trembles. “I think… yeah. Just cramping for now.”

He sits up, groggy and shirtless, hair messy from sleep, eyes already scanning your face like he’s memorizing it. You know that look. He’s scared. Not of the pain — he’s never flinched from that — but of what this moment means.

He cups your cheek. “Should I call someone? Is it time?”

You almost laugh. “No. I don’t think it’s that dramatic yet. I just wanted you to know.”

He exhales shakily and presses his forehead to yours.

“We’re gonna meet her soon,” he whispers.

Your chest tightens. Not just with nerves — with something more bitter, something cold. That quiet voice in the back of your mind returns, uninvited, cruel.

He left before.

What if he leaves again?

You know he’s not like that anymore. You know. He never talks about it, not directly — not the messy, tabloidy separation from Rachel, not the way people still spin conspiracies about whose kid is whose, or why he doesn’t post photos of her online. But it follows him. It follows you. Even now. Even when you’re his wife.

You shift out of his arms, suddenly restless.

“I wanna shower,” you mumble, climbing out of bed too fast.

He’s up in a second. “Hey—slow, baby, you okay?”

“I’m fine,” you lie, grabbing the edge of the dresser for balance. “Just feel gross.”

Hayden watches you quietly, lips parted, as if he wants to say something. But he doesn’t. Not yet. Just helps you waddle into the bathroom, his hand steady on your lower back. And when you close the door behind you, you don’t shower right away.

You sit on the closed toilet lid, curl in on yourself, and cry into your hands.

You don’t know why. Hormones? Maybe. Or maybe it’s just the way the articles won’t leave your head — all the stuff online that keeps being dragged up. Threads speculating on timelines. Instagram comments on your posts asking why he “wasn’t a present father before” or saying “hope this baby turns out better.” You stopped reading after the fifth one last week, but it was too late. You already let it in.

What if you’re next?

What if this baby isn’t enough?

What if you’re not?

Ten minutes later, you step into the shower and try to pull yourself together. Hayden slips in after you, quiet and careful, wrapping his arms around you from behind as the warm water trickles down your body.

“I’m not letting you do this alone,” he murmurs, like he can sense everything you aren’t saying. “Not ever.”

You want to believe him. You do. You lean into him and let yourself pretend it’s enough.

But when the first real contraction hits — hours later, while you’re pacing the kitchen barefoot in a robe — the fear cracks you wide open again.

You grip the counter, knuckles white.

Hayden’s voice is immediate. “Breathe, baby. I’ve got you, I’m right here—”

You burst into tears mid-contraction, pain radiating through your spine and hips like fire.

“I can’t do this—”

“Hey, hey, look at me.” He’s in front of you now, holding your face, his own voice shaking. “Yes, you can. I swear to God, you can. You’re stronger than you think.”

You sink into his chest, sobbing. “You’re not supposed to be crying first,” you hiccup, noticing the glassiness in his eyes.

He lets out a wet laugh, brushing your hair from your face. “I’m allowed. You’re my wife and you’re about to bring our daughter into the world. I think I get a pass.”

His words make your chest ache in a new way — this sharp twist of love so intense it nearly topples your fear. You squeeze your eyes shut and nod against him, letting the next contraction come and go in his arms.

You’ll go to the hospital soon.

You’ll meet her soon.

You just have to survive your own mind first.

The hospital lights are too bright.

That’s the first thing you notice when they wheel you in — everything is sterile, cold, and humming like a machine that doesn’t care about you. The contractions are closer together now, hitting in waves, and even though your body’s the one splitting open, it’s your heart that feels like it’s breaking.

Hayden walks beside the wheelchair, holding your hand so tightly it hurts. You haven’t let go of him once.

They take you into a room, ask you questions. How far along. When the contractions started. Pain level. Allergies. You try to answer, but your voice is barely there between the surges. Someone places a hospital band around your wrist, and it all starts to feel real — terrifyingly real.

Hayden squeezes your hand. “You’re doing amazing, baby. So proud of you.”

You turn your face away because you feel like a fraud.

You don’t feel amazing. You feel like screaming. You feel like quitting. And deep down, where the contractions can’t reach, something darker gnaws at you:

What if he only stays until she’s born?

They check your cervix — you’re only four centimeters. You want to cry again, but you don’t have the energy. A nurse says gently, “Still early labor. Might be a while.”

“Can I get the epidural now?” you whisper.

She smiles kindly. “Soon, sweetheart. Anesthesiologist will be in after the labs are done.”

You nod and press your forehead to the bed rail.

Hayden’s quiet for a moment, then moves to your side again. He sits in the chair, leans forward, brushing your sweat-damp hair from your face.

“You want music? Something calming?”

You don’t answer.

Instead, you whisper, “Do you think she’ll look like her?”

His brows knit together. “Like who?”

You hate yourself for saying it out loud.

“Like your first daughter.”

Silence.

Hayden leans back a little, eyes studying your face like he’s trying to understand how deep the cut is. You try to look anywhere but at him — the monitor, the IV line, the wall where a cartoon giraffe stares at you like it knows your secret.

Finally, he says, “She might.”

Your heart skips.

“But she’ll also look like you,” he adds, and his voice is quieter now. “She’ll be new. A piece of us. Not a shadow of anything that came before.”

You want to believe him. But there’s that thread again — that glint of something online, something cruel. You saw the side-by-side photo someone posted. Hayden’s daughter from before, next to Rachel. “Copy-paste,” they wrote. And beneath it: Let’s see how long this one lasts.

You hated yourself for reading the comments. Hated yourself for caring.

“Do you think you’ll love her more?” you whisper before you can stop yourself.

Hayden flinches.

“What?”

You keep going, like you can’t shut it off now.

“Your first kid. You were younger. You had time. You had space. You weren’t—” Your voice breaks. “You weren’t stuck with someone who’s just… scared all the time.”

He’s out of the chair in a second.

“Don’t do that,” he says, suddenly kneeling beside your bed. His hands find your face, thumb brushing your jaw, eyes wide and glassy again. “Don’t ever say that. You are not stuck. I chose you.”

Your chin trembles.

He continues, more softly, “And you are not just scared. You are brave. You’re doing this while your body’s on fire and your brain’s trying to lie to you. That’s not weakness. That’s war.”

You finally meet his gaze. And for a moment, everything stops — the hospital, the pain, the noise.

Just him.

Just you.

“Okay,” you whisper.

He leans in and kisses your forehead, lingering longer than he should. A nurse walks in and clears her throat, pretending not to notice.

Hayden laughs a little. “Sorry. Got caught up.”

She smiles politely. “No worries. You’re doing great, mama. And dad’s not so bad either.”

The word hits you unexpectedly.

Dad.

It makes your stomach flip in a way that has nothing to do with the contractions.

Hayden squeezes your hand again, and this time, you don’t let go.

You don’t know how much time has passed.

Maybe hours. Maybe a lifetime. The walls of the hospital room have blurred, the windows dimmed from sunset, the light above your bed switched to something softer. But there’s nothing soft about what’s happening inside your body.

Every contraction now feels like your spine is trying to split in half.

You’re curled on your side, one leg bent, breathing through clenched teeth. Hayden sits behind you on the bed, propping you up, his long legs on either side of yours. His hand is on your back, warm and firm, moving in slow, steady circles the way the nurse showed him.

He hasn’t left your side once.

You can’t stop shaking.

“They said the epidural guy would be here thirty minutes ago,” you whisper hoarsely, barely able to get the words out between contractions.

“I know, baby. I know.” Hayden presses a kiss to your temple. “I asked again. They said he’s on the way.”

You nod, eyes stinging, throat tight.

“I can’t do this anymore.”

He pulls you closer, voice low against your hair. “You can. You are. I swear, you’re doing so good, baby.”

Another contraction crashes through you, and you scream this time — raw, broken. It tears from your throat like something primal. You grip the bedrail so hard your knuckles crack.

Hayden doesn’t flinch. He moves with you, holding your waist, whispering whatever he can think of to keep you grounded.

“I’ve got you,” he says again. “Let it happen, love. Let your body do it. Breathe. Just breathe, sweetheart.”

You sob. “I want my mom.”

He closes his eyes for a second, and when he opens them again, he nods. “Okay. You want me to call her?”

You shake your head violently. “She’ll just cry. I don’t want her to see me like this.”

“Then I’ll cry for both of you,” he says softly, and you almost laugh. Almost.

But then you collapse forward with another wave of pain, and everything in you folds in on itself.

“God,” you whisper, broken, “this is my fault.”

Hayden freezes. “What?”

You can’t stop the words now. They’re coming fast, like the contractions — brutal, unstoppable.

“This—this pain. I wanted this. I said yes to this. I wanted to be the young wife, the happy little family, the second chance—” You’re crying again, choking on it. “And now it hurts so bad, and what if something happens, and you’re left alone again, or—or worse—”

“Stop.” His voice is firm this time. Steady. It cuts through everything.

You blink at him, vision swimming, breath uneven.

Hayden cups your cheeks with both hands. “Stop. Don’t punish yourself for wanting something beautiful. Don’t turn this into a mistake just because it’s hard. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

You sob, but he doesn’t let you turn away.

“You gave me everything I didn’t think I deserved,” he says, eyes wet now too. “This life. This love. This baby. And I’m not letting you forget that. Not now. Not ever.”

He kisses your forehead — fiercely, like a promise.

Right then, the anesthesiologist finally walks in.

You laugh through your tears — broken and grateful and exhausted. “Took you long enough.”

Hayden smirks and kisses your shoulder. “See? Told you. You’re doing amazing.”

You close your eyes and let them prep you. The sting in your back doesn’t compare to the pressure in your chest, but soon… slowly… the pain in your body begins to dull.

And in its place, what’s left is this overwhelming ache in your heart.

You lean your head against Hayden’s shoulder.

“Do you really think I’m brave?” you ask, barely above a whisper.

His voice breaks when he answers.

“I’ve never seen anyone braver.”

Time warps again.

After the epidural sets in, everything slows. The sharp pain fades into a dull pressure, and for a little while, you just lie there — in the hospital bed, hooked up to monitors, IVs, and wires — floating in a fog of exhaustion and fear.

Hayden stays with you the whole time. One hand wrapped gently around your fingers, the other rubbing soft circles into your thigh beneath the blankets. He hasn’t sat down in hours. His back must ache. His legs must hurt. But he never says a word.

It’s dark outside now. The only light comes from the monitor glow and the low bedside lamp. The nurse checks your cervix again, gives you a small smile, and says, “Almost there. Nine and a half.”

You nod, but the words barely register. You’re somewhere between awake and not. Somewhere between peace and panic.

You stare up at the ceiling and whisper, “Hayden.”

He leans in. “Yeah?”

Your eyes stay on the ceiling.

“What if something happens to me?”

His hand tightens around yours.

“Hey,” he says, voice low and immediately serious. “Don’t go there.”

“I just… I’ve been thinking about it.” You blink, and a tear rolls sideways into your hair. “All those people online say weird stuff about you and your past and… what if this is where you lose me? What if it’s some kind of twisted karma?”

“No.” He’s already standing. “No, no, no—look at me.”

You don’t. You’re afraid if you meet his eyes, you’ll fall apart.

“Sweetheart, look at me.”

You do.

And he’s crying.

Not silently. Not gently. This time, it’s all over his face — red eyes, scrunched brows, lips parted like he can’t quite catch his breath. You’ve never seen him like this. Not even in your worst fights. Not even when you first told him you were pregnant, shaking and unsure.

“You can’t talk like that,” he chokes out. “You can’t say those things, not when I’m this fucking in love with you. Not when I’ve waited my whole damn life to have this with someone who actually wants me back.”

Your lip trembles.

“I do,” you whisper. “I do want you.”

He grabs your hand and presses it to his chest, like he needs you to feel how hard it’s beating.

“Then don’t talk like you’re already gone.”

You shake your head, tears slipping fast now. “I’m scared.”

“I know. Me too.”

You can’t stop crying.

Your voice breaks: “Don’t you dare leave me.”

“I won’t,” he swears. “God, I won’t. I’m here. I’m here through everything. I’ll sleep on the floor next to this bed if I have to. I’ll never walk away. Not from you. Not from her.”

You breathe in sharp — a sudden wave of pressure building low in your body.

“Hayden—” You squeeze his hand hard. “I think I need to push.”

The nurse hears you and rushes over, checks under the sheet. Her expression shifts instantly.

“Oh yeah,” she says. “She’s ready.”

And suddenly, the room changes. The light shifts. More nurses rush in. A doctor appears. Things start clicking into place. You hear gloves snapping on, trays being adjusted, instructions you barely process.

Hayden wipes your cheeks. “You’ve got this, okay?”

You grip his hand like it’s the only thing keeping you grounded.

And maybe it is.

You look at him through the chaos — through the wires and monitors and strangers — and he’s still there. Eyes locked on yours. Breathing with you.

You nod once.

“Don’t let go.”

“Never.”

“Okay, mama,” the nurse says gently. “Next contraction, I want you to push, alright?”

Your entire body is trembling. Not from fear now — not just — but from the weight of everything. The pressure in your hips is unbearable, like your body is folding inside out. But still, your fingers find Hayden’s, and he laces his through yours without hesitation.

He stands at your side, mask pushed down, hair a mess, eyes locked on you like nothing else in the world exists.

You barely hear the count.

“Alright. Three… two… one—PUSH!”

You scream.

The pain is white-hot, even with the epidural, even with the numbness. It’s pressure and burning and panic all wrapped into one. Your vision blurs. You grip Hayden’s hand so tightly you’re sure you’ll bruise him, but he doesn’t flinch.

“That’s it, baby,” he breathes, voice shaking. “Just like that. You’re doing so good.”

You collapse back between pushes, sobbing. Your legs are shaking. There’s a buzzing in your ears, a strange hum like the air is too heavy to breathe.

“I can’t,” you whisper.

Hayden leans down instantly, pressing his forehead to yours.

“You can. You are. Just a little more. You’ve come so far.”

You try again.

And again.

Time becomes a blur — just your body, Hayden’s voice, and the world crashing in around you.

Then—

“Okay, mama, one more big push—she’s right there!”

You scream so hard your throat rips raw. Your hands fly to the sides of the bed. Your back arches. And something inside you shifts — like something impossible just became real.

Then there’s silence.

For one terrifying second, the world goes still.

No cry.

No sound.

Just the shuffle of gloved hands and the rush of air in your ears.

You can’t breathe. “What’s happening—what’s—”

“She’s okay!” the doctor says quickly. “Just clearing her airway.”

Hayden hasn’t moved.

He’s staring at something beyond the sheet, eyes wide, mouth parted like he’s forgotten how to speak. And then—then—

The cry comes.

High-pitched. Wet. Alive.

And Hayden breaks.

His knees hit the floor beside your bed, hard. He buries his face in your arm and sobs — not pretty, not controlled. It’s messy and deep and real. His shoulders shake. His hand is still tangled in yours, clutching you like if he lets go, the world will end.

“I—I can’t believe it,” he chokes out. “She’s here. You did it. You fucking did it.”

You’re crying too. You don’t even know how to stop.

They place her on your chest — this tiny, squirming, slippery little thing with wet lashes and a furious expression — and your whole heart shatters.

She’s warm. She’s loud. She’s yours.

You stare at her in disbelief, crying harder than you ever have, whispering, “Hi… hi, baby girl…”

Hayden pulls himself back up beside you, kissing your temple over and over and over again. “Look at her,” he murmurs, voice still wrecked. “She’s so—God, she’s perfect.”

You glance up at him, and it’s like seeing a man reborn.

His hands tremble as they brush your hair back, eyes locked on your daughter like he’s never seen anything more important. And when she calms on your chest, a soft hiccup in place of her cries, he presses his forehead to yours again.

“I’ve got you,” he says, breath shaking. “I’ve got her. I’ve got everything I need.”

Everything is quiet now.

The kind of quiet that feels sacred — like the room itself knows not to interrupt. The nurses work gently around you, cleaning, checking vitals, murmuring praise. You barely hear them. All you can focus on is the weight on your chest.

Your daughter.

She’s small. So much smaller than you imagined. Her skin is pink and warm, her fingers curled like she’s still not sure this world is real. You brush your thumb over her soft, damp hair and feel something shift inside you — something ancient and unexplainable.

You’re not just someone’s wife now.

You’re someone’s mother.

Hayden sits beside the bed, leaning close, his arms still wrapped protectively around the both of you. He hasn’t stopped crying. He’s not sobbing anymore — it’s softer now, the kind of tears that fall without permission. Quiet and reverent.

“She already knows your voice,” he whispers, watching the baby nuzzle into your skin. “She moved when you talked. Every time.”

You look at him, eyes swollen from tears, lips parted like you’re still trying to understand what’s just happened.

“I feel like I’m floating,” you whisper. “Like none of this is real.”

He smiles, broken and full of wonder. “It’s real. She’s here. And you’re okay.”

You nod slowly, eyes back on her tiny form. “She’s perfect.”

“She looks like you,” he says softly.

You raise an eyebrow. “She’s been alive for thirty minutes.”

“Doesn’t matter,” he says, voice thick. “I can already tell.”

You laugh quietly, the sound cracked and small, and he melts again — leans in and kisses your cheek, then your shoulder, then the baby’s tiny head.

“You scared the hell out of me,” he murmurs, voice barely audible. “When they didn’t—when she didn’t cry at first…”

You nod. You were scared too. Too scared to speak it out loud.

“But you did it,” he says again, eyes on you like you just built the universe. “You did everything.”

You whisper, “So did you.”

His face folds. You’ve never seen him look like this — undone in the most beautiful way. Like the armor he’s worn for years has finally crumbled, and underneath it, he’s just a man who loves you so much it breaks him.

“I don’t deserve you,” he says into your skin.

You stroke your daughter’s back and say, simply, “Too late.”

He lets out a soft, shaky laugh and rests his forehead against yours again.

The nurse returns a moment later and gently clears her throat. “Ready for dad to hold her?”

You both look up, and Hayden stiffens a little — like he’s not sure he can handle it. His eyes are wide, almost afraid.

You smile, tired. “You want to?”

“I—” He swallows. “Yeah. I do. I really do.”

You help guide her into his arms.

She’s so small in them. His big hands cradle her body like she’s made of glass. And as soon as she’s settled against his chest, she lets out the tiniest sound — not a cry, but a soft coo, like she knows him.

Hayden’s whole body freezes.

“Oh my god,” he breathes, staring down at her. “She’s real.”

You laugh through your tears. “That’s what I said.”

He sits back, rocking slightly, eyes never leaving her.

“I didn’t know I could love someone this much,” he murmurs.

You’re not sure if he means her or you.

Probably both.

He looks up at you like you just gave him the world. “Thank you,” he says. “Thank you for her. For this. For not listening to all the noise out there.”

You nod, throat tight.

Because yeah, there was noise.

There still is.

But it doesn’t matter now.

She’s here.

And she’s yours.

And Hayden… is still holding on.

It’s past midnight now.

The room is quiet, dim, just the soft glow of a baby monitor and the occasional shuffle of a nurse outside. You’re in a fresh hospital gown, hair brushed back in a messy bun someone helped you tie. Your legs still feel strange — like they don’t quite belong to you — and every inch of your body aches in ways you never knew possible.

But you’re not in pain anymore.

Not really.

You’re in the hospital bed, propped up against pillows. Hayden lies beside you, stretched out awkwardly in the narrow space, cradling your newborn daughter in his arms like he’s afraid she’ll disappear.

She’s wrapped in a soft pink blanket. Her tiny face is tucked into his chest, making the faintest of sleepy sounds.

You watch them for a long time in silence.

And then, softly: “Do you think she knows?”

Hayden looks over at you, brow furrowing. “Knows what?”

“That we’re hers.”

He smiles gently, brushing a fingertip along the baby’s cheek. “I think she knew before we did.”

You stare at them both — and suddenly, the tears start again.

Soft, quiet, overwhelming.

You try to turn away, to be subtle about it, but Hayden’s already shifting beside you, careful not to wake her as he reaches out with one hand and cups your cheek.

“Hey. What’s wrong?”

You shake your head. “I don’t know. Nothing. Everything. I just… I still feel like she’s not really mine. Like she belongs to the hospital or to science or the stars or something bigger than me.”

His face softens.

“She’s yours,” he says. “I watched you make her with nothing but your body and your will and your heart. No one else can claim her.”

You sob, and he presses his forehead gently to yours, still cradling her between you both.

“You’re the strongest person I’ve ever seen,” he whispers. “And you gave her life. I’ll never forget that. Ever.”

You nod, breath hitching, fingers curling against his t-shirt.

“I’m sorry I was so scared,” you whisper.

He kisses your hair. “Me too. But it’s okay now. You don’t have to be anymore.”

The baby makes a tiny noise — a soft hiccup, almost like she’s agreeing.

You both laugh through your tears.

And then he looks down at her again.

“So… are we still sure about the name?”

You blink slowly. “You say it first.”

He looks at you like you hung the stars.

Then, softly: “Luna.”

The word sends a chill through your body — like something sacred just passed between you.

“Luna,” you echo, tears falling fresh. “Luna.”

Hayden kisses her tiny forehead. “Luna Christensen.”

You exhale, shakily. “Say her name again.”

He does.

Over and over.

Like a prayer.

Like he’s trying to teach the walls, the ceiling, the stars outside the window to remember it forever.

The drive home is surreal.

You’re in the backseat, cradling Luna in her little car seat, arms hovering even though she’s perfectly secure. The world outside the window moves too fast. Everything feels too loud. And yet, inside this car, wrapped in Hayden’s hoodie and cradling a life you made, it’s the quietest you’ve felt in weeks.

Hayden drives one hand on the wheel, the other constantly reaching back to touch your leg, your hand, your foot — anything to remind you he’s there.

“You okay?” he asks for the hundredth time.

You nod, eyes on your daughter. “Yeah. Just… scared to exhale.”

He glances at you through the mirror. “Then I’ll breathe for both of us until you can.”

That makes you tear up again. You don’t even try to stop it anymore.

The house smells like laundry and eucalyptus and home.

There’s a quiet reverence when you walk through the door. The nursery is soft and ready. The bassinet is waiting. And still, you don’t want to let her go. You sit on the couch, Luna tucked into your arms, too exhausted to stand, too overwhelmed to do anything but be.

Hayden kneels in front of you, hands resting on your thighs.

“Hey,” he says gently. “Let me hold her while you rest.”

You shake your head instantly, lip trembling. “I—I know that’s stupid, I just—what if she forgets me?”

He frowns. “She’ll never forget you. Not in her bones. She came from you.”

You look at him. Really look.

Hair messy, hoodie sleeves shoved up, eyes bloodshot and still a little puffy from crying. This is a man who once lived in Hollywood lights — and now he’s sitting on the floor in front of you like he wouldn’t want to be anywhere else in the world.

You swallow.

“I know I kept comparing myself to Rachel,” you admit quietly. “And I know it’s not fair. But it’s hard when people say stuff online, or make me feel like I’m just your second life.”

His eyes shatter.

He crawls up onto the couch, sits beside you, and cups your face in both hands.

“You are not my second anything,” he says, fiercely. “You are the only thing that ever felt like home. You gave me a new life. You made me want to be a man who shows up. Who stays.”

You cry again, harder this time. You lean your head against his shoulder and feel his arms fold around you and the baby at once, like he’s holding all three of your hearts in place.

“I’m not leaving,” he whispers. “Not like I did before. She wasn't the one. Not like you.”

“I just needed to hear it,” you murmur. “One last time.”

He kisses your temple, then your cheek, then your lips — soft and slow.

“Then hear it from me now,” he says. “You’re not temporary. You’re not replaceable. You’re my whole damn life.”

You finally let yourself believe it.

That night, you fall asleep in the same bed you started in — but everything’s different. Luna in the bassinet. Hayden curled around you. And silence where fear used to be.

Just love.

Just you.

Just family.

Forever.

I'm sobbing ૮꒰ྀི⸝⸝> . <⸝⸝꒱ྀིა

Tissues for yall 🫴🏼[box full of tissues]

#hayden christensen #fanfiction #reqs open #hayden christensen x fem reader #hayden christensen fanfic #hayden christensen x reader #hayden christensen x you #hayden christensen fanfiction #hayden christensen fic #request #dilf hayden christensen #hayden christensen fluff #i'm so open for requests !!!#send reqs

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drdemonprince · 1 day ago

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one bit that irks me about talk about post-capitalism talk is that somehow people (implicitly) assume that we'd throw away centuries of technology to back to a "before". i get why but find it evidence of an insufficiently discerning attitude. critical discernment of *why* a certain technology is harmful is key.

the mechanized loom contributed to a lot of woe, but is that because the mechanized loom is innately evil? no, in itself it's just mechanizing a time & labor-consuming task. it's detrimental effects flow from the fact that these were early capital intensive ventures, and so the owners, in order to maximise their returns pushed for lower costs (low wages, no safety, child labor etc.) and maximizing production (which lead to surplusses (can't let machines sit idle), the flow of raw materials from colonies (india for the UK), to be processed in capitalist factories, and re-exported to said colonies (tightly controlled markets) extracting the surplus profits, more recently the disposableness of clothing ("fast fashion") to keep the money flowing into the coffers of the owners). it's the capitalist use that is causing the harm, not the idea of the mechanized loom itself.

people need clothes, and going from raw plant/animal will at some point involve turning the fiber into fabric, and a mechanized loom is a pretty sensible way to go about that. what i'm trying to say is that it's not so much the *idea* of the mechanized loom we need to dispose of.

even something like cars, woeful as their influence has been, is not wholly negative. car culture as we know it today arose from the post-WW2 companies, in the US, pivoting from producing military goods (back) to cars (not wanting to let their investments go to waste), needing to create the markets for their goods and maximize profits with shit like annual remodels. electric vehicles at least cut the dependence on oil, but maintain the primacy of car-centric society. the personal vehicle culture is what needs to go, but something like public transport like buses, especially zero-emission ones? that's something worth keeping in a hypothetical post-capitalism scenario because that'd mean disposing of the attitudes and behaviors that cause the harm inflicted by the car.

even something like the internet and associated technologies has it's harm bigly is what it's used for. planned obsolescence (so you keep buying new phones), entire data centers to track you so they can piss ads into your eyeballs, endless pointless corporate garbage, crypto. that's all waste, but flows directly from the capitalist attitude. about 5% of electricity is used for all internet/computer things, a huge chunk thereof for that bullshit. being able to communicate with others (whereever they are on the planet) is something i feel valuable enough to keep, and something we can do because none of that requires intrinsically all that wasteful trash. (much of the companies that got big in "social media" only got so by parasitising on human desire for socialness and have been actually detrimental to us)

tl;dr; be critical of technologies and ideas, but be very discerning whether it is the capitalist attitude and use of them that's causing harm instead of some innate attribute of these ideas & technologies)

(i hope this made some sense, english is not my first language and i wanted to share this because i feel it's an important aspect that gets overlooked in these talks.)

brilliantly said anon!

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rekino2114 · 2 days ago

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Dandadan idea: momo and aira are fighting over m!reader and at a certain point the group gets attacked by a yokai/alien and the girls get ready to protect him but when they get hurt too y/n turns in his yokai form and beats the enemy with their help and later explains to the girls that he was actually cursed by a yokai at a young age and so now can use its powers and didn't tell them because he was scared of how they'd react (they actually think he looks really hot in his yokai form)

Momo and Aira seeing your yokai form for the first time

Pairing:momo ayase x male reader x aira shiratori

A/n:to be honest I have no idea why I got so much into writing this and this is so long, I think I just really wanted to write for dandadan and also just like writing action scenes. Also you basically take okarun's place in this.

I really enjoyed writing this and kinda feel like this could be part of a series so let me know if you have any ideas for more parts also first dandadan post so hope you enjoy!

"Y/nnnnn~"

You could recognize that sweet if fakely innocent voice anywhere so you sighed and turned around seeing exactly what you expected, aira running towards you with her arms extended

"I knew you were here"

You sighed and a bit reluctantly hugged aira back

"Hi aira"

After she let the hug go on for way too long aira pulled back and looked at you with a wide smile before emitting a clearly exaggerated gasp

"Wait don't tell me you don't have anyone to have lunch with!?"

"Actually i-"

"How cruel! Did all your friends really leave you?"

"I just prefer-"

"Well luckily for you, I have some free time, so I'll gladly keep you company, I even brought you a bento in case you didn't have anything to eat"

She started searching through her bag presumably for the aforementioned bento, but you stopped her by putting a hand on her shoulder

"It's fine, I have my own food, let's just sit somewhere and eat"

Aira smiled even brighter seeing that you agreed to her proposal and hugged you again causing you to blush

"Thanks! I promise this will be the best date ever"

"....h-huh? W-wait date?"

[Timeskip brought to you by chibi y/n cutting chibi aira's hair in her silky acrobat form......only for it to grow back immediately]

"And then she tried to tell me it was my fault! Can you believe it? *sighs* sometimes being born this beautiful comes with its issues"

".....s-sure"

You considered yourself a friend of aira's. sure she was vain and two faced at times, but you knew that inside, she was a genuinely nice girl and a good person, especially because lately for whatever reason she started being...nicer than usual, she only rarely used her influence and popularity to put others down (and when she did it was always against momo for some reason) and stopped flirting with random people.....in fact it seemed like her flirting moved to only one person:you

Because the mellowing of her more negative traits seemed to be accompanied by her flirting with you increasing exponentially, at first you thought it was a joke or something like that but she had been doing it for so long that that answer became much less plausible

"So anything new happened lately?"

"Oh nothing, same boring life, what about you?"

Aira seemed to contemplate your question for a bit before putting her free hand on her hearth in a gesture you didn't understand and looking up at the sky

".....yeah...same boring life"

".....o-ok"

Aira closed her eyes seemingly lost in thought before she laid her head on your shoulder making you blush even more

".....You're warm"

"T-thank you I guess"

You considered gently pushing her away but something inside you told you not to, her earlier gesture confused you but it also somehow made you understand that she went trough some hard times so she probably needed the comfort and so you let her rest there for a while

"HEY! WHAT'S GOING ON OVER HERE!?"

Well that was a very short rest

"Oh momo"

You opened your eyes to see the brown haired girl staring in your direction with an angry expression

"What's up?"

"You even have the courage to tell me th-"

"AH THE DEMON IS HERE!"

Suddenly you saw aira opened her eyes too, dug in her back again and took out....a crucifix?

"STAY AWAY DEMON! I WON'T LET YOU BRAINWASH Y/N FOR YOUR EVIL PURPOSES!"

".......what?"

"Still with that story? Do I have to remind you that now you're more demon than me now?"

Aira gasped and momo widened her eyes and looked you as if realizing she shouldn't have said that in front of you

"Stop spreading lies about me demon!"

You....didn't know what was going on but you had seen momo and aira fight enough times (weirdly enough always when you were around) that you knew you had to stop them, so you both hands on aira's shoulders causing her to look back at you

"Come on aira, stop it, momo didn't do anything"

".....y/n"

She looked back at momo and put back the crucifix in her bag as if that would allow her to get closer

"You're lucky y/n is so generous to give you a chance, but don't try anything ok? If you hurt him in any way i'll-

"Yeah yeah I get it"

Momo purposely sat in the middle of you two blocking your contact

"So, what were you doing here?"

"Having lunch"

"In the courtyard?"

"I saw y/n had no one to eat with so I accompanied him here"

"I just like eating alone more, but if it's with you two then I don't mind"

Momo and aira both blushed before immediately resuming to glare at each other

".....why are you so hostile to each other?"

"It's obvious! I'm trying to stop this demon from ending the world!"

"How many times do I have to tell you I'm not a demon!"

"That's exactly what a demon would say!"

You immediately regretted asking that question and just let them argue while you ate in silence

"And why are you getting so close to y/n huh? Know he'll never join you! And I won't let you hurt him"

"I'm not gonna hurt him!"

"Can you please stop?"

Your pleading got completely ignored as they continued arguing and screaming so you just sighed and put back the container of your food in your bag before getting up from the bench and starting to walk away, once they saw that momo and aira starting following you while still fighting

You sighed and continued walking until you saw something that made your eyes widen

"......hey girls.....where is the school?"

"Huh?"

The two girls looked ahead of them and saw that a giant display of tress covered everything their eyes could see

".....w-what the-"

"Since when is there a forest here?"

"I swear we were in the courtyard just a while ago and....h-huh!?"

You turned around and saw that trees were behind you too and on your right and left as well

"W-wait the forest....is all around us?"

"I can't even see the bench anymore! The hell's happening!?"

"......this is definitely......a yokai's doing!"

You and aira's eyes widened at what momo said, aira's even more than yours as she fully understood what she meant

"....w-what are you talking about?"

Suddenly momo turned around and pointed at something

"I-i can feel its presence!"

What she pointed at seemed like a wooden doll of an old woman at first, it had holes in all of its wooden "skin" even two eye holes that were completely empty and white hair that seemed made of leaves. It didn't move for a while, giving you time to admire how it swayed with the wind before it lowered the wooden scepter it was holding in one hand, and the entire atmosphere changed. The wind stopped and the figure raised its head when suddenly two green orbs appeared in its eye holes to seemingly mimic a pair of eyes

".......w-what the fuck is that?"

Momo looked at you in surprise

"Y-you can actually see it? Now that I think about it, the fact that you were pulled here in the first place would mean-"

"Respect nature"

The deep, raspy voice coming out of the wooden idol made you stop your conversation and look towards it. As soon as it finished uttering those words, the tree branches changed, they got sharper and longer, even the roots expanded and moved in your direction trying to stab you. You closed your eyes and braced for impact only to be surprised when nothing happened

You opened your eyes that the roots stopped in mid air, it looked like a giant hand was holding them in place right in front of you

"Ngh!"

You turned around and saw that momo was holding her hands up in your direction before she waved them and the roots dislodged from the tree and flew away. you didn't know what happened, but you knew momo saved you somehow

"M-momo?"

"Aira! Transform!"

"Don't order me around, and don't act as if I wouldn't have done that in the first place"

You couldn't believe your eyes as you saw aira grow much taller, her hair did the same, growing until it reached the ground and not stopping even there while becoming a more reddish color. The most noticeable difference, however, was the strange mask that resembled a skeleton that started to cover her mouth and the left side of her face, leaving aira with a sharp array of teeth and one hollow eye

"As if I would let anything hurt my beloved"

As she said that her voice became much deeper and distorted too

"A-aira!? What the!?"

In a flash aira wasn't in the same spot anymore and when you looked around you saw her move between the different trees at incredible speed until she moved behind the wood creature ready to land a kick.....that did almost nothing when it connected

"Eh-"

With a swing of the yokai's stick, aira was sent flying in the opposite direction. When this happened, momo screamed her name and focused her powers on the yokai, making it crush into a nearby rock formation, giving aira enough time to go back near momo, wiping blood off her face and breathing heavily

"What happened?"

"That yokai....it's so resistant! I kicked it and it did nothing, it felt like hitting an actual tree!"

"What? Then how the hell are we supposed to beat it!?"

"Don'task me! Aren't you the yokai expert!?"

"No! I-"

Before they could continue their arguing further, they saw wodden spikes sprout from the ground. Before they could grow even more, momo held out her hands, pointing at you and aira

"No don-"

Both you and her felt a force push you away from there, making you avoid the spikes who instead all hurt momo

When you stood back up you saw momo cough blood and lay down holding her arm, the spikes had hit her in the throat, the chest and her right arm

"M-momo!"

"Why the heck would you-"

"Shut up! Focus on defeating the yokai, if you let it kill y/n I swear I'll kick your ass in the afterlife!"

Aira grunted but turned around and faced the yokai with a determined look in her one visible eye

"...it's nice to know that we at least have the same priorities, damn demon"

Suddenly, aira's incredibly long hair started moving on its own, going in different directions and ending up wrapping the yokai's hands and feet, rending it immobile

"I'll kill you......and then y/n will see how strong and cool I am!"

Both you and momo narrowed her eyes at what aira said, momo was especially mad while you were just surprised that she would say that knowing you're literally nearby.

But after that aira sprinted towards the yokai and readied a punch, just as it was about to land the wodden creature readied its own punch and broke the restraint made of aira's hair surprising her greatly

"Wh-"

The yokai punched aira in the stomach, sending her tumbling on the ground near you. She started coughing blood too, and you saw parts of her skull mask start to crack

"A-aira"

"N-no i-i have to protect y-"

She started coughing even more

"Shit! I think it hit me in the lung! A-ah!"

With one last cough aira fell to the ground unconscious, you tried to go to her side but were stopped by momo yelling at you

"Y-Y/N NO!"

You looked in her direction and saw that momo got up again and was pointing her hands at the yokai who now had started walking menacingly towards you

"I...can....still....get it!"

Before she could activate her powers, however, momo was struck by some tree roots hitting her from the ground right on her hands, causing her to lose focus and fall to the ground exhausteded

"M-momo!?"

You turned back and saw the yokai still approaching you and the two girls on the ground causing you to panic and sweat profusely

"W-what the hell do I do!? Momo....aira I.... can't let them die!"

You wanted to do something....anything to save them but what were you supposed to do? You were powerless, unable to protect the people you held the most dear to your heart.....you just couldn't give up like this

"Hey, old bitch! Look at me!"

The yokai stopped to look at you with its empty eyes for a second

"What!? Too scared? Do you only go after unconscious girls!?"

Momo who was still up heard you and tried to stop you

"N-no y/n please don't..."

However, that was too late as the yokai already leaped towards you and readied another puch, you closed your eyes, expecting the punch to give you a quick and at least as less painful as possible death, but after a while of still no pain coursing through your body you opened your eyes and were met with a completely different being in front of you

"You've got guts, I'll say that"

It was a vaguely humanoid figure wrapped completely in purple fire from head to toe. It was sitting down with its legs crossed, and you could sense it looking at you even if it had no visible eyes

"You wanna protect those girls right?"

Some part of you wanted to ask explanations, but you ignored it. Somehow, you felt this could lead you to saving momo and aira

"....yes....they're really important to me"

".......got it"

The being put its hand on your chest and miraculously it didn't burn you in the moment

"I'll give you my power ok? Mind you I'm not doing this out of kindness or anything, if you die I die...like actually, that's it. And I kinda wanna keep my afterlife....that's what I get for possessing the first child I see"

"............."

"Do you accept?"

"......yes"

".....nice choice"

The being pressed its hand further into you and now the fire fully enveloped you, however it still didn't hurt

"Just don't waste my power"

You nodded resolutely....and then woke up

When momo opened her eyes again she saw something that made her want to widen them again even if that was almost impossible with the injuries, the wood yokai was standing on the ground, it looked browner than before, almost charred as it backed away

However, perhaps the most shocking thing was that in front of her, there was something or someone new. It was a human, or at least that was what she thought at first before seeing the ring of purple fire surrounding it and the flaming hair. It looked like a yokai, but there was something far too human to be one....something even familiar, and she understood what once it or rather he turned his head to look at her

There were purple flames covering the entirety of his mouth almost like aira's skull but those eyes and facial features, there were the same ones that vaguely reminded her of Ken Takakura and that she had loved for all this time

".......Y-Y/N!!!??"

You turned to look at the yokai who was now readying another attack

"....you still don't give up?......what a hassle... You're really pissing me off"

"WAIT A SECOND! YOU DON'T GET TO BE ALL COOL LIKE THAT WITHOUT GIVING ME AN EXPLANATION!"

".......I dunno"

"......Eh?"

"This is the first time this is happening to me, I guess the yokai inside me gave me its powers"

"YOU HAVE A YOKAI INSIDE OF YOU!?"

".....I guess"

"HOW ARE YOU SO CALM ABOUT THIS?"

Before you could answer her, you saw the wood yokai sprinting. However, it wasn't going towards you, but the unconscious aira, you quickly went towards that same place, too, standing over her body

"......I won't let you touch her"

You extended your arm in her direction and a blast of purple fire came out of your hand burning the yokai but still leaving it alive even if all burned and charred making it back away to regain its strength

"..............."

You went over to aira and picked her up in your arms, you don't know if it was because of the contact or just a coincidence but she opened her eyes in that moment

".........an angel?.....am I in heaven?"

"....aira...."

Suddenly, aira's body was engulfed in flames, too, causing momo's eyes to widen. However, before she could say anything, the fire disappeared aira looked totally fine

".......what?"

You placed aira back down much to her disappointment

"Can you walk?"

"H-huh....yeah"

"Does anything hurt?"

"Not by much"

"......good"

You walked away from aira and approximately momo trying to touch her

"W-wait a minute, what did you do to aira!?"

"I cauterized her wounds and filled her body with spiritual energy, she should be more than fine now......I think"

"You think!?"

"Hey I told you this is my first time too, do you want your wounds to stay like that!?"

".....fine"

She held her hand out to you and blushed when you touched her only to burn up completely, too, for a while before coming back to normal unscathed

".....did that feel alright?"

"Wow.....It didn't hurt at all, and I do feel better now....thanks"

Momo smiled at you, and you did too, even if it was hard to see under the fire. You both then turned around to see the yokai still weakened and burned, trying to get away from you

".....can you two still fight?"

You saw aira slide at your side now in what you assumed was her yokai form skull mask long hair and all

"As long as it's for you, I can go for however long you want"

".....can you stop being so annoying?"

"You're just jealous he actually picked me up instead of giving me a measly touch on the arm"

"Am not!"

You saw the yokai stand up and look at you menacingly

"....uh...so any ideas on how to beat this thing? I can burn it but I think it's gonna need to stay in range for a while"

The two girls stopped arguing and pondered your question for a bit

"....hey aira, do you remember how we defeated silky dancer?"

"......no"

"Oh yeah you were dead"

".....wait what?"

"It's a long story, anyway y/n do you think you can burn aira's hair wh-"

"NO WAY DEMON! YOU'RE JUST TRYING TO MAKE ME LOOK UGLY IN FRONT OF Y/N!"

"No, I have a strategy!"

"As if I believe you!"

"Aira, can you at least hear momo out for a while?"

"......fine....if you tell me to"

"Thank you, anyway, how about this? Aira traps the yokai with her hair then y/n burns it and-"

"The fire should spread and burn the yokai completely!"

"Exactly"

"Are you sure it will work?"

"It should"

"Well I guess we have nothing to lose anyway, you ready aira?"

"This better work"

Aira started moving her hair and wrapped the yokai's arms and feet in it like before, but this time, she went the extra mile and completely wrapped its neck and torso

"May I?"

Aira blushed even if you couldn't tell under the mask and started to murmur to herself

".....he's even asking for permission....so respectful........y-yeah go ahead"

You touched aira's hair and watched as it got engulfed in your fire. To make sure it didn't spread to the girl, you immediately cut it in the point you touched. However, to your surprise, it grew back immediately, still leaving aira with her long red hair in this form

"Oh it grows back?"

"That's nice to know"

You looked back at the yokai and saw that your strategy worked its wodden body was completely on fire now along with the hair surrounding it, it moved in pain and screamed for a while before it got on its knees and just fell down and stopped moving. You thought it was dead, so you deactivated your powers, causing the flames to disappear

".....is it dead?"

"I can't sense any more spiritual energy so.... probably"

You were about to approach the body, but before you could do anything, a flash of light blinded you, causing you to raise your hands to cover your eyes. When you looked back, you saw something was sprouting from the yokai's body...at tree

It was a giant tree much bigger than any other one in the forest, it was beautiful too it's green leaves blew with the wind and caused a breathtaking scene, maybe it was the feeling of having won the fight and of being safe, of having been able to save the two people you care about the most but it felt relaxing, therapeutic in a way

Eventually, the roots fully consumed the yokai's boody making the tree look completely indistinguishable from any of its kind except for its length

When you looked back down from the tree you saw momo and aira (now back in her normal form) knelt down with their hands together and their eyes closed...they were praying

You quietly mirrored them and placed yourself in the same pose too

[Timeskip brought to you by chibi momo forcing chibi y/n to have a Ken takakura movie marathon]

"DON'T TAKE ALL OF THE ONIGIRIS FOR YOURSELF!"

"I'M ONLY DOING IT BECAUSE YOU STOLE MY SEAWEED SALAD!"

"......can you two be quiet?"

After fighting the yokai momo invited you to eat dinner at her house (she technically only invited you but aira felt entitled to come too) both to help you regain your energy and so you could talk to her grandma to figure out more stuff about the yokai inside of you

"Besides I wasn't saving them for myself, I was gonna give them to y/n"

Aira moved closer to you and pushed the rice ball near your mouth

"You must have burned a lot of calories when you transformed....here!"

"Hey that's my food! Also don't feed him!"

".....no thanks, I don't think that's how it works.....also give momo her food back"

"Eh?"

"You heard him"

Aira reluctantly gave momo her onigiri back and the three of you resumed eating normally while making conversation

"By the way, since when did you have that yokai?"

"Such an insensitive question momo ayase! What if it's rooted to a traumatic event in his life?!"

"Shut up"

"Well......both of my parents died when I was young"

Hearing that the two girls quieted down while aira looked at momo with an "I told you so" expression

"I spent most of my time near their graves.....and sometimes I saw some little purple balls of fire in the cemetery, no one believed me but....I knew they were there, one day they just kinda.....fazed through me, it didn't hurt but I guess that it was a yokai that somehow possessed me"

".......i-i'm so sorry I shouldn't have asked"

"No it's fine you couldn't have known"

You felt a hand gently wrap around yours and looked to your right to see it was aira

"I'm sorry for your loss but.....if that helps... I lost my mom when I was young too"

"O-oh really?"

"Yeah.....so....I guess I get the feeling, well not as much as you of course"

Aira flashed you a genuine sweet smile and you did the same, you could genuinely feel that she understood you

"It's a hitodama"

You looked towards the voice that just spoke and saw that momo's grandma had finally started talking

"....what?"

She took a drag from her cigarette and spoke again

"The yokai haunting you it's a hitodama, it's basically a will-o-wisp that appears after people die...it doesn't usually possess people though, I guess you must have some pretty strong spiritual power kid"

".....thank.....you?"

"Momo also told me you transformed in that right?"

"Yeah, and I could shoot fire and stuff, it was pretty cool"

"It usually isn't that strong either.....although the fact that it's been possessing you for so long probably strengthened it"

"I see"

"Luckily exorcising it is a cakewalk, I hope you like cold water though cause you're gonna need to take a bath in it for almost 2 hours"

".........what?"

"W-wait exorcising it?"

"Isn't that why you came to me?"

"......w-well, I guess"

"Plus I really don't want another kid with spiritual powers running around, two is already an headache"

You suddenly raised your hand catching the attention of the women in the room

"......sorry if this is too much to ask for....but if it's possible......I'd prefer to not get exorcized"

She took another smoke before answering you

".....why?"

"....I don't know I guess it would be taking away what makes me.....unique if that makes sense"

"...Eh?"

"Fighting that yokai was the most fun I had in a while.....plus the fact that momo and aira have the same powers...it was nice....I feel like I can relate to them....I don't that connection taken away from me so..."

You suddenly lowered your head, bowing in respect

"Please, don't exorcize me, I'll fight other yokai, I'll use my powers for good I promise! I just.....don't want to go back to a boring life"

You didn't hear an answer, so you assumed she didn't approve and raised your head when you did you saw a scene you didn't expect

Both momo and aira were bowing down on the floor in front of momo's grandma in the same position you were in before, before you could start wondering what they were doing they started speaking almost as if they rehearsed this

"Please grandma"

"We humbly ask you"

"Please don't exorcize y/n!"

"......momo....aira"

"Eh? You too?"

"He could be a great help if we run into another yokai! He was really good at controlling his powers!"

"Yeah! And that yokai is the last connection he has to his parents! Are you that heartless to tear him from that too!?"

She sighed before smoking again

"And what do I gain from this?"

"I'll do all the chores for a week!"

"A month"

"What?"

"And pink hair too"

"Eh? I don't even live here!"

"Do you want your boyfriend to be exorcized?"

"H-he's not my boyfriend.........yet"

"What?"

"Anyway, we accept"

"E-eh? You didn't even consult with me?"

"Come on momo, we're doing this for y/n! I'm sure even your demon heart can understand that"

"Easy for you to say, you'll only do chores when you come here!.....but if it's for y/n then....I guess it's fine"

"OK, great you can start by cleaning all the dishes"

Momo and aira looked back towards the giant stack of dirty plates left after your dinner and sighed in desperation

While they were doing the dishes you joined them and started cleaning plates too to their surprise

"Y/n? What are you doing?"

"Helping you, isn't it obvious?"

"Yeah but.....we were the ones that agreed to"

"But you're doing this for me, helping you is the least I could do to thank you, speaking of........thank you so much....you have no idea how much what you did means to me"

They smiled at you and continued cleaning

"Don't mention it, we're a team now after all"

"Y-yeah, all those yokais don't stand a chance with us"

"Speak for yourself, I'm only in this alliance to make sure you demon don't harm y/n in any way"

"Whatever"

"So......you are on the team"

"Of course, I'm the leader"

"Hey wait who decided that!? I am!"

"No way! You're a demon you could never be!"

"Can you stop it with the demon talk? It's getting really old!"

"I'm just saying the truth!"

While they continued arguing, you sighed louder but smiled happy that you were now fully part of a team who accepted you in every way and that you were going to have a lot of fun hanging out with

78 notes · View notes

bisexual-horror-fan · 1 day ago

Text

Casually Devoted. Part Four. "Don't Overthink It." Erik Campbell x FEM! Reader. NSFW.

Hello, hello, hello! I hope you are all excited for another big fat fucking meal of a chapter! Another exciting update to Casually Devoted, series masterlist here. Because me and @28bohemianmoons have worked hard as fuck yet again to bring you this banger! I hope you all love this and find it worth the wait, chapter five is already like half done. My lovely beta reader has some stuff coming up so the next one might take a bit to get out but it will be worth it! Next chapter is the halfway point! Without further ado, let’s get into it!

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Rating. Explicit. Length. 11.5K. Erik Campbell X FEM! Reader. She/Her Pronouns. Warnings: Friends With Benefits. Banter. A Date That TOTALLY Isn’t A REAL Date You Guys! Lingerie. Dirty Talk. Making Out. Eating Pussy. Cunnilingus. Face Sitting. Vaginal Fingering. Squirting. Multiple Orgasms. Vaginal Sex. Cream Pie. Fluff. Softness. The Idiots Are Starting To Question Things AND Their Feelings. Julia Makes Her First (But Not Her Last) Appearance.

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The soft drone of music playing through the speakers and the buzzing of the AC paired with the dark clouds rolling in outside set a dreary, depressing backdrop for Erik’s latest headache. Whom of which is currently standing at the floor-length mirror ogling his new ink without a care in the world. Erik is stewing behind the counter, praying for the swift end to this arduous interaction.

“Thanks again, it looks great.” His latest tattoo client isn’t looking Erik in the eyes, still too engrossed by the fresh ink on his bicep to muster even the most basic etiquette. To be fair, the tattoo came out pretty amazing. Still, it is bad form, and a severe lack of awareness for social cues. This guy’s mind, much like Erik’s, is miles away. Either way, this six-hour ordeal over the span of nearly two months is nearly over.

Erik automatically responds with, “Yeah, anytime. If you want something in the future, just shoot me a message.”

“Totally.” The guy drawls in the same flat affectation Erik has been forced to listen to for the entirety of this. He pulls out his wallet and removes the veritable stack of cash. He passes it over without counting it out, and Erik accepts it with a half smile. As he turns to leave, Erik calls out to his retreating form, “Don’t lose the aftercare sheet! And post that review, man.”

Erik’s seemingly content client dismissively waves him off as he departs. The odds of him writing that review are about forty to one. Erik counts out the money and weirdly enough, he actually left a good tip, way more than he was expecting. This is a sizable amount of dough; Too much to not do something good with it. He is folding the bills with one hand, and pulling out his wallet with the other. He ponders what to do with such a large sum as he stuffs the bills into his wallet.

Midway through cleaning up his station post-tattoo, the idea strikes.

It’s been three weeks since he’s seen you in person. You’ve still texted and talked on the phone a few times, but your busy schedules have left little room for you to meet up. From work to a long holiday weekend to other commitments, the timing has just not been right for either of you. He should rectify this, right now. Once he finishes sanitizing, he pulls out his phone, taking advantage of the currently empty shop to call you.

The phone rings four times before you pick up on the fifth ring. You sound a little breathless as you greet him, “H-Hello?”

“Hey!” He greets, then he asks, “You alright?” You brush off the question, “Yeah, totally. W-Why?”

“You sound pretty out of breath.” His flirty tone shines through, and you pick up what he’s putting down. You laugh easily, “Sorry to break your heart and kill your boner, but I’m not masturbating. I’m-”

He cuts in with a grin that you can hear from your side of the phone, “For once.”

Rolling your shoulder to keep the phone in the right position, you say, “Yeah, for once. I’m in the middle of painting my nails. Answering your call without ruining them took a little effort.”

“Jesus, should we start hitting the gym together? Get your stamina up?” He inquires.

You lift your hand higher to the light and squint at your nails, trying to discern if the coats are even. You explain, lightly teasing at the end, “I was sitting on the floor and my phone was face down on the opposite side of the coffee table, and– Actually, I don’t have to explain myself to you!”

He hums unconvinced, before he can say anything else you tack on, “Did you call just to bitch, orrr was there another reason?”

“Yes, actually. I did. What are you doing tomorrow night?” He asks. You sigh out, “Blissfully, thankfully, nothing. I’m run off my feet lately.”

Perfect timing. He says, “Same here. Sooo, I suggest we meet up.”

“Oh my God, yes! It’s been weeks. What did you have in mind?” You excitedly ask as you slide the second coat over your thumbnail with a grin.

Erik asks a question, “Well, guess what I finally finished today?”

You hum, thinking for a moment and then gasp as the realization hits. “Oh my God! Fucking snake thing guy! Did he finally sit still long enough for you to finish the colours?

“He did! Only took Four. Fucking. Sessions.” You can hear the mock joy in Erik’s voice. He walks back towards the other side of the shop as he listens to you mutter, “Damn, that guy’s pain tolerance must have been terrible.”

“You have no idea.” Erik sighs, seating himself down behind the counter before continuing. “So with my newly acquired pile of cash, I was thinking…”

He drags it out for a moment. He hesitates slightly, feeling unexpectedly odd about the suggestion, which is strange. This isn’t the first time you’ve shared a meal, not even close. Honestly, all the sex you’ve had since you met is more intimate than what he’s about to ask you. Erik swallows, pushing the feeling down and away.

You press him, the curiosity and anticipation getting the better of you, “Thinking…?”

“...about us going out for dinner.” He finishes his original thought. His lips quirk contentedly at the pleased hum you let out. “Oooh! Yeah, we haven’t actually gone out for dinner together!”

It’s true. You've shared many diner breakfasts, homemade lunches and takeout dinners over the past few months. But going out to dinner? Not even once. Erik elaborates, “Thought it might be a nice change of pace. Also, it’s the least I can do since you’ve listened to me bitch about this fucking guy the whole time. Without complaint, might I add.”

“Ahhh, I see. As a thank-you.” You still haven’t said yes, but Erik is hanging onto your every word until you finally answer him. “I’m in.”

He can’t stop the shock from slipping into his voice as he drawls out, “Really?”

“Of course! Dinner on your dime? How could I possibly turn that down?” You tease before adding more seriously, “But I’ve really missed getting to see you. The pleasure of your company is all the incentive I need.”

“Awe how sweet. Careful I feel a cavity coming on.” He pauses only for a moment before saying, “I picked up on your emphasis on pleasure, by the way.”

“Can’t sneak anything past you, music man. What can I say? I’m a simple creature, I miss riding that pretty face.” You shrug, even though he can’t see it. You set your hands down on the table, letting your nails dry before you go in with your top coat.

Your words remind Erik of the last time he was between your thighs; Your addicting taste and the moans he drew out of you over and over again. Christ, he needs to do that again. It’s been too long. He replies honestly, “I’m not even gonna try to pretend that I haven’t been thinking about that, too.”

“So it’s settled! Have a nice dinner then bang each other’s brains out, sounds like the makings of a great night.” You are practically beaming over the prospect. He’s definitely joining in on your excitement, and then moves on to ask, “Where do you wanna go?”

“I get to pick where we go, too?” You are delighted as you ask, “Tell me, are you that eager to blow all your money in one night?”

Lightning flashes then thunder rumbles, followed by raindrops pelting the shop windows from the outside. He spins in his chair, eyes rising up towards the ceiling as he jokes, “I’ve come to count on you sucking me dry sexually, sure. Buuuut I didn’t think sucking me dry financially was on the table, as well.”

“Well, you are right, it’s not. And I would never.” You say sincerely before the words finally sink in. “And also, you make it seem like I’m using a vacuum cleaner on you in bed. Not a pretty picture you paint there, music man…” Erik laughs at your musings while you think seriously for a second. Then you suggest, “How about we go to that taco place on Seventh?”

He does like the food there, but that’s not exactly the kinda place he was thinking of. He scoffs before saying, “Oh come on, you know how much money this guy gave me? We can do better than a mid-range joint like that.”

You agree, laughing lightly, “Okay, okay. Nicer than that, I hear you.”

He leans against the counter as he clarifies, “Yes, please. I mean it. No place that has burgers or a value meal on the menu. Think bigger.”

You really rack your brain this time, and then you have the perfect place in mind, “How ‘bout Angelo’s? That Italian place near downtown with that gorgeous little patio set-up. I’ve never been, but I’ve always wanted to go. Is that nice enough for you?”

He needs no further explanation, he’s sold. “Yes, much more in line with what I was thinking. Good choice.”

“Awesome, I’m excited! I hear their pasta is insane.” You gush, he listens with a smile on his face. You both hash out minor details for tomorrow. Before saying goodbye, you joke, “Hey, Erik? This place has a strict no band tee and jeans policy, got it?”

“Oh, fuck off. I’ll see you tomorrow night, freak.” He laughs, and you return it, “Yeah! See you then, music man.”

You hang up and set your phone aside before picking up your bottle of top coat. Mentally, you are already planning what you are going to wear. The next day, work passes by quickly, made easier now that you have something exciting to look forward to. You get home that afternoon and head straight to your room to get ready for dinner with a hop in your step.

Erik’s day is decidedly less breezy. He has a cancellation at work, which is annoying enough. Then on his way home, he gets caught in a rainstorm for the second time in a row. However, this time he’s also without an umbrella. Once he is home, he heads straight to the bathroom to shower. Now, he’s stuck in front of his open closet, debating what to wear tonight. He doesn’t want to underdress, and have you give him shit; or overdress and have you give him shit. In either case, he’ll look stupid.

He makes a disgusted sound as he mentally berates himself while flipping through his shirts. He’s just making this more complicated than it needs to be, he thinks while shaking his head. It’s just dinner with you! It’s fine! This will all be fine. He needs to stop overthinking it.

Once he has finally decided on the appropriate attire, he gets dressed and heads downstairs, making sure to close his bedroom door like usual. As he makes his way down the stairs, he smoothes his hands over his pockets, feeling his wallet and phone, but no keys. Fuck. Where did he leave his keys? Did he drop them? He inspects the hall table and when he comes up empty, he walks down the hall to check the kitchen. Big mistake.

Unfortunately, Julia is in the kitchen, whom he has been expressly trying to avoid. She’s leaning on the counter, her phone in one hand, a half-eaten apple in the other. Without looking up from her phone, she comments, “It finally stopped raining.” She’s dressed for a run, clearly planning to take advantage of the clear sky.

“Thank fucking God for that. Have you seen my keys?” He asks as he starts to scan the kitchen counters, “No, I havennn’t-” She pauses as looks up from her phone to address him fully, until she notices, “-Oh, what are you so dressed up for?”

Shit. He sighs, but in his rush to escape this interaction, he stupidly admits, “I’m going out for dinner.” He walks around her and starts lifting random items strewn about in search of his keys. Why is the kitchen such a mess right now?

She pockets her phone, finding the current conversation much more interesting. She has an extremely curious smile on her face as she observes him. After a beat, she asks, “Looking like that?”

Erik adopts an annoyed tone he often uses with his younger siblings, “Yes? Seriously, where are my keys?”

Julia crunches down on her apple and gives a few considering chews before she addresses the elephant in the room, “Do you have a date, Kiki?”

“For fuckssake! No! It’s not a date.” He stops his search and looks at her, to see her staring him down with a self-satisfied smile. The silence hangs as she takes another bite of her apple, the sound of her crunches filling the space between them. Finally, she replies, “Sure. I believe you.”

No, she doesn’t, he can tell. This is so annoying, it really isn’t a date. It’s just dinner between friends. Yeah, friends who fuck each other stupid as often as their schedules allow. The thought pops into his head before he immediately swats it away.

Erik breaks their eye contact to lift the fruit bowl, as if it was plausible enough to assume his keys would be under it, for some reason. Julia suggests, “Did you… leave them in your jacket?”

Fuck, he is pretty sure she is right as he turns towards the hall again. He rolls his eyes as he walks to the front door, annoyed that he could have avoided this entire interaction with Julia. He stops at the coat rack, fumbling through the pockets of his jacket, and letting out a sigh of frustration and relief at the feeling of his house keys as he pulls them out. Erik pockets them but just as he is about to leave, Julia suddenly appears behind him, the conversation clearly not over for her, “Told you so.”

“Yeah, thanks.” He brushes her off, opening the door and heading outside, but she follows close behind him. Julia speaks up again as she closes the door, “So who are you having dinner with?”

Erik half-jogs down the steps toward the sidewalk, snapping over his shoulder, “None of your fucking business, Jules.”

“Touchy, touchy.” She sighs, and he can practically hear her roll her eyes as she trails behind him. “Whatever. Have fun on your not-a-date that’s none of my business.”

“Even if I do, you definitely won’t be the first to know.” Erik reaches the sidewalk while Julia stays at the edge of the lawn to do her pre-run stretches. She calls out after him, “Byeee.”

You and Erik had agreed to meet at Angelo’s, so you made sure to leave with more than enough time to get there. You are about two blocks away when Erik texts you, “I’m here. Waiting at the bar.”

You tap out your reply quickly, “Be there soon.”

Whether you pick up the pace to get to the restaurant faster out of excitement or punctuality, that’s your business. When you arrive, you take a moment to check your reflection in the front window to make sure not even one hair is out of place. Reassured, you head inside.

You are greeted by the hostess with a simple, “Good evening and welcome. Do you have a reservation?”

“I do not, but my friend is already here at the bar.” The hostess gestures to the left at your words, “Of course, go ahead.”

With a polite nod, you step away from the podium, taking the direction she indicated and head towards the bar. With a quick scan, your eyes land on Erik. As you approach, you think about the fact that he was in your position all those months ago, walking right towards you. Although he didn’t realize it back then, the parallels are not lost on you. Life is funny that way, lining up two seemingly minor events and synchronising them almost to the letter. His back is to you, facing the bar, so you sneak up on him easily. When you are close enough, you rest your hand on his shoulder, leaning to the left of him just as his head turns in your direction. Your eyes meet and you can’t help but smile as you greet him, “Hey music man.”

He returns your smile. Then, just as the bartender comes by to ask if you need a drink, he greets you, showcasing his impeccable timing once again. “At last the freak has arrived.”

It feels as though everything slows to a stop for a minute. You both know that he heard it. You glance at the bartender, who is poorly schooling his expression of genuine confusion over what he just heard. You barely manage to stifle your laugh before answering, “I’ll need a minute with the drink menu, thank you.”

“Right, let me know.” He steps away, seemingly glad for a prompt reprieve from the awkward moment. You step beside Erik to settle yourself on the stool next to him, and when you look at him again, you comment, smirking at his mildly pained expression, “Really smooth there.”

“Gee, thanks.” He snarks before sighing out, “This is so unfair.” You know just what he means. You can call him ‘music man’ so easily without raising an eyebrow, but when he calls you ‘freak’, it isn’t taken quite as lightly where strangers are concerned. You playfully remind him, “Don’t look at me. You’re the one who came up with the nickname.”

“Yeah, yeah. It’s not your fault.” Erik may be a pretty unashamed guy, but even he can admit there is a time and place. And being on a very public outing at this rather upscale restaurant is most certainly not the time nor the place.

Now that your eyes are settled on Erik anyway, you notice he’s looking pretty great tonight. You leisurely take in his attire; His matching black pants and blazer; His midnight blue dress shirt with a few buttons undone and no tie, allowing a small peek at his tattoos; His usual bedhead neatly combed. Honestly, this look fits him and suits him unfairly well.

Your hand slides down his arm, the texture of the fabric feeling very nice under your fingertips. You praise, “Umm, wow! Where’d you pull this out from? The fit is great.”

He seems to brighten when you say that, preening as he adjusts his jacket, “Thank you. I told you I have other shit in my closet.”

You laugh, hand falling away as you lean one elbow against the bar. You say, “And now I believe you.”

You set your clutch down in favour of snatching up the bar menu, your eyes scanning over the options. While you are distracted, Erik gets his first real look at you; From your pointed heels to your fitted knee-length dress with an off-the-shoulder cut that shows off your shoulders nicely; Your meticulously styled hair and makeup. Jesus. Compared to what you wore to your friend’s birthday party, this one knocks it out of the park. His eyes trace along your curves greedily, curious as to what you’re wearing underneath, if anything. Knowing you, either option is just as plausible. His attention is drawn back to your face when you speak, “How’s the drink you got?”

He glances down at the cocktail that sits at his elbow, and he says, “Oh, it’s good.”

“May I?” You ask as you lean over, hand out, and he nudges it closer for you to take it. He watches you take a sip, and then you hum pleasantly, “Very nice.” You look over to the bartender confidently gesturing to the glass, and stating, “I’ll have one of these please.”

He nods and sets to work fixing your drink as you lean back on your stool. Erik speaks up, “You look great too, by the way.”

You smile and turn to him slightly, chirping out, “Thank you.”

He just stares at you. God. He cannot stop fucking staring at you tonight. What is up with him? You don’t seem to notice anything amiss as you prompt him, “So, what is going on with our table?”

“Will be ready soon, at least that’s what I was told shortly before you got here.” He assures you, just as your drink is placed in front of you. He adds, “Well, for now, drinks.”

Your hand closes around the glass, lifting it to his, “To a great night?” Clinking glasses with yours, he confirms, “To a great night.”

You both take a sip, enjoying the sweet, citrusy cocktail. Perfect for summer. “You know what’s funny?” You ask with a smile and consider him curiously. He responds, “What?”

“Happy accident, but my nails match your shirt.” You hold your hand out to show them off, the deep blue color with flecks of silver glitter sparkling in the accent lighting. Hmm, yeah it is kind of funny isn’t it? At least, it sure is making him feel funny. He tries not to focus on how much he likes the fact that you unintentionally matched with him. He opts instead to casually compliment you. “It’s a great colour on you.”

You are quick to reciprocate, voicing similar sentiments with no hesitation. “You stole the words right out of my mouth! Seriously, Erik. That shirt? You look good when you branch out from all the blacks and greys.” You pick up your drink and take another sip, and what is he meant to do with that? He is used to the jokes you both throw back and forth, and it isn’t like you never compliment each other, you do. It’s just that the compliments you’ve thrown around were usually way more risque in nature than this. Now this is different. There was neither comedic bite, nor lustful innuendo accompanying your words; Just a sweet, genuine and honest compliment.

Thankfully, Erik has no time to think of a response because just as you set your drink down, the hostess makes it over to your side of the bar. She lets you know your table is ready and leads you over. Erik has to admit, the outdoor patio is just as you described; very lovely with wrought iron patio furniture and soft sting lighting all setting a very warm, inviting atmosphere. Unlike the beloved diner you both enjoy, the tables here are spaced out to allow a bit of privacy. You can definitely tell that this is a much more intimate, romantic setting, usually reserved for special occasions, or in your case; a way to blow all Erik’s money in one night, or try to at least.

Once you’ve both sat down, setting your drinks on the table, you look through the menu, “So. I already know I have to get one of the pastas, but what about you?”

“Not quite sure yet.” Erik hums as he starts to scan the menu. Excitedly, you suggest, “Oooh, what if we both decide on two pastas that look the best, and then share them?”

“Sharing food? You must really want everyone to think this is a date, afterall.” He quips and you laugh. “You wish.”

Peering over the top of your menu, you proceed to say, “And what is the big deal about sharing food? Remember when we were having our last marathon sesh to beat that game? I literally held pizza to your mouth so you could eat while you played!”

“To be fair, that was a joke I made, and you decided to run with it.” He defends himself before deflecting, “Who says I want pasta, anyway?”

“Me, Erik. I says.” You look back down at your menu, “Besides, like almost half the menu is pasta.”

“And I’m going to pick from the other half just to spite you.” He teases, and you sigh with a shrug of your shoulders, “If you want to commit yourself to a lesser meal, don’t let me stand in your way.”

You both fall silent for a moment as you seriously consider what to order. Then you speak up suddenly, breaking the silence, “When was the last time you went on a date?”

Aren’t you full of surprises tonight? He was not expecting that question at all. He asks, “Why do you want to know?”

“Call me a curious party.” You turn the page, still half debating on your entrée. “Fucking nosy is more like it-” He starts, and you cut him off as you close your menu, “Why are you being so cagey? It’s an easy question, Erik.”

“I’m not being cagey, I’m just doing what we always do.” He tries to rationalize as he keeps his eyes on the menu. “But fine. It’s been a while.”

“And a while is… how long exactly?” You ask, and he answers, “The last date I had was before we started talking, I suppose.”

“Wow! You know, I was gonna mention we’ve been doing this whole thing for five months.” That finally has him meeting your eyes again. “Really?”

“Just shy of three texting and the rest in person, yeah. It’s true.” You nod and continue, “Why has it been so long since you’ve gone on a date?”

“I’ve just been busy with work, friends, and family. Not to mention what a fucking handful you are…” You grin cheekily at that, finding his words endearing, and just might be the best compliment he could give. “ Add everything together, and it eats up a lot of my time.” He concludes before turning it on you, “What about you, hm? When was the last time you went on a date?”

Busted. The last date you had was well before Erik came into your life. You’ve been so satisfied with your dynamic that you felt neither the need nor the want to pursue anybody else. You decide to be honest, “About the same as you.”

He laughs, “Oh, and you’re giving me shit? That’s rich. So, what’s your reasoning for your dating drought, exactly?”

Using his same reasoning, you divulge, “Just been busy.” You pick up your drink, bringing it up to your mouth as you say, “I’ve had much more interesting things holding my attention lately, so dating hasn’t really been on my mind.”

Erik wonders if he is counted under, “more interesting things.” But he quickly banishes the thought of asking, figuring it would come off as needy if he did. You elaborate anyway, “I went out for drinks with some friends the other night, and one of them pressed me on how long it’d been. So, it got me thinking about it.”

Ahh, so that’s why you’re bringing it up now, that makes more sense. “When I told her how long it’s been she was all like-” You change your voice, doing an impression of this girl Erik has never met, “-‘oh my God, I should set you up with this guy I know! You’d totally get along’-”

Erik didn’t expect that, honestly. The thought of you dressed up like this, at some other nice restaurant, and flirting in that way you do with who knows who seemed almost wrong to him for some reason. He should be indifferent to the idea, and yet it was somehow putting him off. You are laughing over the ridiculousness of your brief impression, while he’s more preoccupied with the odd pang in his stomach. Is he getting nauseous?

He forces out his next sentence, “What did you say to that?”

You are still laughing at the very idea, before saying, “I said no! She has terrible taste in guys! Going on a blind date set up by her sounds like fucking Hell on Earth. But she’s a good friend, so I was nice about it when I shut her down.”

He’s relieved at your words, and that is concerning in itself. Why should he care if you go on a date with someone? These emotions stirring in him over a hypothetical situation is confusing to say the least. You look up and smile at the waiter as he arrives to greet you both.“Good evening-”

When he starts listing off the specials, Erik isn’t listening. He’s still staring down at the menu, rereading the same words but not really comprehending them. His brain is scrambled, struggling to process this new revelation. When did he start giving a shit if you were going on dates? He needs to get a hold of himself. It’s just the day he’s had that’s put him in this weird headspace; It has to be. Erik has been dying to see you again for weeks, and he feels like he is wasting the precious time he has with you now, by overthinking. He should just enjoy the here and now.

You say his name, and his head raises to see you looking curiously at him. His hearing kicks in again just as the waiter asks, “Do you need more time with the menu?”

He has literally no clue what he wants yet, so he agrees, “Uh yes, please. Sorry.”

“No need to apologize sir, I’ll be back soon.” He walks off, and as soon as he’s out of ear shot you pipe up, “Are you alright, Erik?”

“Yeah, yeah. Why?” He asks, as if he’d not just been dissecting his every thought just now, and hiding it poorly no doubt. You explain, “You just seem miles away is all.”

“I had a rough day today, but trust me, this is helping.” You are looking in his eyes, as if searching for a sign of dishonesty. When you find nothing out of the ordinary, you drop it, and instead work to boost the mood. “Well, I think I might have a good distraction then… If you’ll indulge me.”

He is already interested. You are always full of fun, exciting ideas. He asks, “What did you have in mind?”

You lean a little closer, elbows on the table, as you indulge him with a smile, “Going back to what we were talking about earlier. Since I am ‘such a handful’ and ‘take up so much of your time’, I’d hate for your dating skills to get rusty. So what if we practice right now?”

His brow creases, arms crossed over his menu on the table as he verifies, “What? Act like this is a date?”

You shrug as you confirm, “Why not? This is the perfect way to practice, pressure free!”

You haven’t steered him wrong yet. With a nod, he follows one simple line of thinking that you are a big fan of; One that hasn’t led either of you astray in your current dynamic.“Don’t overthink. Just do.” He also can’t think of any real reason to refuse.

“Fuck it. Sure, why not?” He agrees, what has he got to lose? You look giddy as you exclaim, “Yes! Now pick what you are getting already. Then, after we order we can start.”

A few minutes later, the waiter came to take your orders. You ask for this stupidly rich ricotta stuffed ravioli in rose’ sauce, and Erik opts for an order of the chicken piccata. The waiter runs off and Erik isn’t sure how to start, but thankfully you jump right in no problem. “So! You’re a tattoo artist?”

He can’t help the small laugh he lets out, he sits back in his chair and says, “I am. Forgive me, but what do you do again?”

“Oh, my job isn’t as interesting as yours-” You try to deflect. He plays his part and doesn’t let you, “No, no, tell me about it. I want to know.”

You explain to him, “Not much to tell. I kinda fell ass-backwards into it. I do this really mind-numbing job, it’s essentially data entry, I take numbers from one spot and move them to another.”

As a follow up he inquires, “If it’s so boring, why do you do it?”

You sigh before elaborating, “Because for such a boring job, it pays stupidly well; Much better than it should. It’s easy and gives good benefits. It isn’t what I want to do forever, but for now it’s good enough; comfortable even.” It’s true. It’s very hard to seriously consider leaving when they practically throw money at you to work a job most people don’t have the resolve to do long-term.

“So, what do you want to do in the future?” He asks, and you hum, stirring your drink with your straw, “Something less boring for hopefully comparable money.”

“Real dreamer, aren’t you? Lofty goals?” He teases, prompting you to tell, “I’ve got lots of dreams, just none focused on work.” You indulge in a sip of your cocktail before saying, “I don’t buy into the idea that everyone has a dream career or needs to be totally in love with their job. Sometimes it’s just about a paycheck. I get my fulfillment elsewhere in my life.”

“You know, I have to say I can see what you mean.” He admits, and you continue, “Yeah? Some people act like their work is their entire life and their whole reason for being, and I just can’t get behind that.”

“Exactly, there is so much more to life.” He agrees. You take the opportunity to segue, “What else is important in your life?”

He confesses, “Some people might think it’s corny as fuck, but… My family.”

“Yeah? Tell me about them.” You have heard bits and pieces from him; gathered context clues over the past few months. However, he hasn’t really talked openly and candidly about them. Shockingly, it actually doesn’t come up much when you’re hanging out and especially not when you’re fucking.

“I’m the oldest. I have two siblings, in the middle is Julia and the youngest is Bobby.” He starts, and you press, “So what are they like?”

He immediately starts filling you in, “Julia is into fitness and fashion, she’s really into music too, but almost none of our genres overlap. She’s scarily smart; I listen whenever she talks about her major and I think I get it, but some of it is way out of my depth.”

“Wow! She sounds pretty cool, honestly.” You reply, and he replies, recalling his earlier interaction with her as he says, “She is… Whenever she isn’t being majorly annoying and nosy.”

You smile at his classic sibling behaviour, but his tone still holds a lot of obvious love and care behind it. You press him for more, “What about Bobby?”

“He’s really sweet. But because of that, sometimes I worry about him.” He sighs, and you raise an eyebrow at that, “Why?”

“He’s soft in a way that some people mistake for weakness, and teenage guys can be real assholes, you know?” He gestures with one hand as he expounds, “I trust him, it’s the fucking people who give him shit that I worry about.”

Hearing him talk about this is pretty heartwarming. He carries on, “We play video games together, sometimes. He’s really into animals too, he has this little pet turtle named Paco and I hear him talking to him sometimes when I go by his room.”

You knew family was important to him. He was almost always doing something with them, but you’re only just starting to get the whole picture. You conclude, “Sounds like you’d really go to bat for either of them.”

“Without question, and I have.” He admits, and you ask playfully, “You get into a lot of fist fights over them?”

“A few more scrapes than I’d care to admit. Once it got so bad, my mom made me promise to cool off.” Erik laughs in equal parts embarrassment and pride, as you inquire, “And did you?”

“I did. Can’t tell you the last time I had to punch someone.” You laugh along with him. He shifts to you, “So, what about your family?”

You proceed to tell him as the food arrives, expounding on your family and whom you are close to. Admitting that you haven’t lived here your whole life either. Instead you were raised in a different town a couple of hours from here. You had done the whole ‘moving away for school’ thing, got a job in town, and settled down pretty comfortably for the past few years. You continue to chat about how you enjoyed the area, agreeing that you both wouldn’t stray far for the foreseeable future; Erik for family reasons, and you for the sake of convenience and genuine happiness for where you are right now.

When your food arrives, you graciously let him have some of your pasta. You notice the mild regret bloom on his face as he chews, and you tilt your head at the dish, “So?”

With a hand over his mouth and a fond roll of his eyes, he concedes, “Okay, okay, I probably should have gotten some pasta.”

With a shake of your head, you say, “I told you. Well Hey! This just gives us an excuse to come back again sometime.”

He teases you over the suggestion, “Planning a second date before the first one is even over? Awfully hasty of you, hm?” You chuckle and own it, “What can I say? I’m a person who goes after what she wants, and this is a pretty good first date so far.”

He nods in agreement before joking, “You gonna buy next time?”

“Hmmm, sure. I mean fair is fair.” As you skewer another piece of ravioli, you add, “Next time the waiter stops by, we should ask for a dessert menu.”

Of course, you’d want dessert. With your sweet tooth, he expects nothing less.

The rest of dinner passes easily after that; more questions thrown back and forth, touching on deeper topics than you have over the previous five months. It’s refreshing, and long overdue. You are visibly relaxed, having gained a higher degree of familiarity and understanding of each other over the course of dinner, strengthening your friendship overall. Your flirting ramped up at the same time, as it usually does, and it’s most certainly a welcome accompaniment to a lovely night out.

Soon enough you are looking at the dessert menu. The fact that they have house made gelato jumps out at you the most, and you simply cannot pass it up. Erik chooses dark chocolate, and you go with lemon cream. It comes out fairly quick and while you are digging in, Erik rattles off a fitting question, “What’s your favourite dessert?”

“Oh my God, great question!” You praise before diving in to explain, “I love a warm, rich chocolate fudge brownie topped with GOOD vanilla ice cream; Add on a little whipped cream and some caramel sauce? UGH, to die for. The flavours play off each other so, so well. I could eat it anytime.” You sigh happily. It’s a classic, which lends to the fact that most places have it on offer in some way, shape, or form.

Erik comments, “And you pick the one restaurant in town that doesn’t have that on the menu?”

With a laugh, you say, “I didn’t pick here for the dessert, I picked it for everything else! I must admit though, this is good gelato.”

He nods as he scoops up another spoonful, humming in agreement, “It is.”

You watch as he indulges in another spoonful before asking, “What about you? What’s your favourite dessert?”

Erik sucks on the spoon before pulling it out of his mouth and pointing it at you. “Coconut cream cake with a twist. My mom makes it with lime zest.”

Not what you were expecting, but a delicious choice all the same. You can picture the rich soft cake flecked with light zesty green throughout, “That sounds so good. I’ll have to try making it sometime.”

“Oh, you bake?” He asks, still pretending this is a first date. You laugh, “Yes, I do. I love to bake. In fact, I just made some millionaires shortbread the other day. You should come back to my place for some.”

He smiles as he responds, “Two desserts in one night? Pretty indulgent.” You have a third in mind too, and that flirty tone he is using tells you that he’s thinking the exact same.

When the check comes, Erik pays, assuring you he’s happy to cover it this time, and you thank him again as you leave. The walk back to your place is filled with more light conversation, and you even reach out to hold his hand. You realize that you haven’t done this since that first night you led him back to yours. You both engage in plenty of physical affection, but not this. Normally it feels too couple-y. You tell yourself you are just extending the ‘practice date’ bit, and you almost believe it. His fingers twine with yours without hesitation, quelling your thoughts and providing a welcome calm to wash over you. Arriving at the lobby of your building, you take the usual elevator ride up to the fifth floor.

You unlock your front door, but don’t open it, opting instead to lean against the door frame, looking back at Erik expectantly. You mutter softly, “Sooo, this is me-”

He is close but somehow still too far for your liking. His hands are in his pockets, still playing the part, as he responds, “I had a good time tonight.”

“Me too. We should do it again sometime.” You sigh, and he nods, a lull forming between you. He appears to be contemplating something, as if deciding on whether to go through with it or not. Finally, he slips a hand out of his pocket, balling it into a fist, and lightly bumping your shoulder with it. After his playful punch connects, he quickly chirps, “Well! Good night.”

He turns to leave without another word, and your jaw drops. He can’t get more than half way back to the elevator before laughing, breaking at the comedic timing of the offended noise you let out in response to his actions. Erik turns back to you, lightly jogging back to your door. Looking less than impressed, you intone, “Fucking hilarious, Erik.”

“Couldn’t pass it up. That was too funny.” He confesses with a grin. You reach for the doorknob, simultaneously your other hand miming jerking off, “Yeah maybe you can yuk it up out here in the hallway, while I go inside and eat those cookies by myse-” He chooses that exact moment to lean down and kiss you, effectively cutting off your vague threat.

He presses you up against the door, invading your senses and leaving you helpless. You melt against him, along with your mild annoyance. It feels fitting, Considering the fact that you initiated your actual first kiss, it feels fitting for him to take the lead for this fun hypothetical first date. You kiss him back, slow and methodical, losing yourself in him like you would a favourite song. He pulls back, and you take that as a cue to bring your hand up to the door knob behind you to open the door. He wastes no time backing you into your apartment, the front door left open in his haste.

Erik presses you against the nearest wall, his hands gripping firmly on your waist and his mouth crashing into yours again. It was like that kiss outside woke him up, reminded him just how much he had been missing you over these few weeks. The frantic, pure unadulterated need in his movements throws you back to the night you met in person. Jesus Christ. Your head is spinning as you kiss him back, the bite he delivers to your bottom lip shocking you into further action. Your hands tug him closer, and then his mouth starts to move, pressing hurried kisses over your jaw and neck. His hands slide over your hips as his mouth ventures lower, your breath hitching when his lips brush your collarbone.

“It’s been too long-” He plants kisses down your chest as he murmurs, “-have to fucking taste you.” You pulse at his words, rendered delirious at his desperation, and yet you still retain the forethought to kick your foot out and close the front door, your hand fumbling until finally twisting the lock into place.

He is on his knees in front of you, and what a fucking view he presents you with. His fingers hook on the hem of your dress, and push it up. When the black fabric is bunched up out of the way, he notices something, your eyes falling down to him just in time to catch his reaction to your little surprise. You see the shift in his eyes and the flick of his tongue over his lips. He lets out a breathless laugh before exclaiming, “My God, you’re wearing this shit under your dress on the first date? You slut!”

You chuckle heartily as you note, “That’s a new name.” You like the sound of the word on his lips, his tongue wrapping around the single syllable so deliciously, emphasizing the ‘t’ at the end wickedly.

“Deserved! I mean, look at this.” His fingers trace over the edge of one of the impractical straps barely holding up the crotchless panties you have on. The lacy, black fabric wraps around your hips and ass, leaving your cunt beautifully bare, like a debauched picture frame. You confess, “I saw them the other day and thought you’d like ‘em.”

“I do-” He leans in, his tongue swipes up through your folds and the quick shock of pleasure cuts right through you. If you didn’t lock your knees quickly, you would have been thrown on your ass, leaning against the wall or not. He finishes his original thought, “-I especially like how they don’t get in the way.”

He was downplaying how much this was affecting him for sure. The fact that you bought lingerie specifically for him, and have been wearing them under your dress all night is insanely hot. Erik hopes this becomes a trend, and he can’t wait to see what you buy next. Perhaps some encouragement on that front is in order. Leaning back in, he runs his tongue over you again, slower this time. He repeats the action over and over, drawing a deliciously pathetic sounding moan from you. He is able to stimulate your clit like this just fine, but he wants to go deeper to really taste you. His hands slip down between your legs, the backs of his hands press on your inner thighs, encouraging you to spread your legs wider to give him more access. You quietly attempt to explain, “Erik, I’m already worried I’ll lose my balance if you try to do this while I’m still standing.”

“Gotcha.” He grips your hips and rocks backwards onto his heels, he tips his head back and starts to pull you nearer. You quickly pick up on what he wants, laughing breathlessly as you ask, “Here?”

“Right here.” He confirms confidently with a nod, and you let him lead. He lays down on his back in the middle of your hallway and helps you down, until your knees are on either side of his head.

Christ! You wish you could just freeze this moment in time and commit this to memory; Him in this fancy outfit, splayed out on your floor, face buried between your legs. The erotic, all-consuming image has you quaking already. You lower yourself the rest of the way and settle yourself to sit on his face. His hands remain planted firmly on your hips as he leans up to taste you again. His tongue passes over your hole and God, it makes his eyes want to roll back in his head. You taste so good he just can’t help himself. He’s been waiting long enough, left starving and needy for you for way too long. He’ll stay down here and savor you until he’s sufficiently made up for the lost time.

He loses himself in it, head blissfully empty, tongue lapping at your straining clit and ears zeroing in on the chorus of your moans as he eats you out. Erik has eaten you out plenty of times, he insists on it more often than not, but you don’t think you will ever get used to how good it feels. He just puts everything he has into it, and knowing how enthusiastic he is allows you to really let loose and enjoy it. You can hear how much he loves getting you off, he is certainly not quiet about it while eating you out with gusto.

His hands grip your ass, fingers slipping under the caged back of your panties as he encourages you to move. He moans wetly against you, mildly begging, “C’mon, you said you wanted to ride my face.”

Fuck, you sure did. You are struggling to hang on as a fresh wave of arousal grips you so tightly it could crush your ribs. You listen, squirming your hips as you grind down on his lips and tongue. You grasp the nearby hall table with one hand, while the other slides into his hair, grabbing a fistful.

You tug on his hair in that way he loves, he winces and furrows his brows in response, encouraging him to double his efforts. His lips latch onto your clit, and he sucks; the jolt of sensation has you reeling and gasping out his name. There is no real discernible rhythm at first, but with his guiding hands and steady mouth helping you, you find it. You slide against him, you are not gentle as you keep your hold on his hair and fuck his face. He devours you with a messy passion that has you struggling for breathe, nails biting into the wood of the table. You are unbelievably tense, and he certainly isn’t helping when he makes those sounds against you.

The past three weeks without him tangled in your bedsheets, craving him in this exact position while lying awake at night. You’d clench around your toys, filling yourself at the thought of him between your thighs wrapping his stupidly soft pink lips around your clit. But the fantasy, no matter how many toys you use, could never compare to this. His tongue circles once, twice, three times before pulling off of you with a wet smack of his lips. He’s back on you immediately. You adore how he does this, his movements along your cunt reminiscent of a filthy tongue kiss. From the slight scraping of his facial hair and the occasional nip of teeth to the constant and consistent passes of his tongue, the sensations flooding your senses has you so far gone.

You are not going to last at this rate. Erik can feel every twitch and throb with his tongue right against your clit, your moans increasing in frequency and pitch. He knows you are close. He coaxes you along, hands planted on your ass as your movements become more erratic.

Your voice is shaky as you breathe out his name. It’s the best warning you can bestow before the pleasure boils over and you cum right on his tongue. You are panting out an approximation of his name and the word “-yes-” repeatedly, rolling your hips fluidly and perfectly, so as to draw out your orgasm for as long as possible. Your sweaty hand slips from the table, and you pitch forward. Thanking God for the good grip he has, Erik helps keep you upright as the pleasure starts to ebb. When the high subsides, you lift yourself up, trembling and trying to regain your breath.

After taking a few deep lungfuls of air, you utter, “Ho-holy shit, Erik.”

You let go of his hair, glancing down at him as you wipe your forehead with the back of your hand. The lower half of his face is wet with your slick, panting through parted lips, and looking as wrecked as you feel. His hair more closely resembles its usual messiness under your roaming hands and writhing hips. He utters amusedly, with a half smile, “Seemed like a good one.”

You exhale through your nose, before saying, “Fu-fuck, understatement of the century.” You are still shivering, and you admit, “I actually th-ink I need to lay down?”

“Here, I gotcha.” He helps you ease down, letting you take the place he had. You try to steady yourself, pressing your palms to your eyes to relieve the dizziness. You take more deep breaths as he chimes in, “You alright?”

A beat passes before you firmly nod, “Yeah. Yeah, I feel better alre-" Your sentence dies on your tongue as you drop your hands from your eyes to see he’s stripped his blazer. You watch his hand flex, squeezing his erection through his unbuttoned slacks, as he explains, “They were gettin’ pretty tight. Needed some relief.”

“You could just take them off.” You offer, and he hums, “Sure, soon. Right now I just-” His eyes drop between your thighs again, licking his lips. He ducks down, rushing out, “-I gotta keep going, okay? I can’t help it, here-”

He suddenly pulls you closer, your back slipping on the hardwood. You exclaim, “Woah! Erik-”

He throws one of your legs over his shoulder and his mouth is back on your oversensitive cunt, your back arching at the sudden contact. You cry out, barely protesting and definitely failing to hide how good it feels. He starts really gently, easing you back into it as best he can. Your hips jerk from the almost painful jolts of stimulation, but it slowly melts back into ecstasy again. You are staring up at the ceiling, hands flattened against the floor near your hips and trying to comprehend the fact that he’s working you up to a second orgasm less than three minutes after your first.

He lifts his lips briefly to ask you, “Can you arch your hips for a second?” Your brows knit together in silent question but you comply anyway. However, you don’t have to wait long to get your answer. Two of his fingers prod at your drenched entrance before smoothly sliding in.

You moan out, “Oh fuck-” And your head tips back against the hardwood, and he murmurs against your clit, “Thanks.”

A broken moan slips past your parted lips. The build up is quicker but somehow more torturous to your second climax of the night. It is just so blindingly intense, his warm, slick tongue sliding over your throbbing clit and his fingers hooking internally to abuse your G-spot. The only words of encouragement you manage to moan out every so often are, “God, Er-Erik-”

Your heel digs into his back uncomfortably, but he doesn’t seem to mind, and in fact seems quite comfortable sprawled on the hallway floor like this. To be fair, considering how phenomenal Erik is making you feel on said floor right now, you aren’t really complaining either. His movements turn messier, needier, making this even hotter.

His ramped up pace is launching you closer to the edge. You feel this odd kind of pressure building along with your orgasm; Not a bad feeling, just different, the intensity kicking up a notch with every press of his fingers inside you. Your body is reacting on instinct, tense and working back against his mouth and fingers. All too soon, you are painfully close. You find your words this time, “Er-Erik I’m gonna, ah!”

Then what happens next surprises you both. You cum pretty explosively, which is to be expected, but it is also accompanied by an ample gush as you ride your high, cursing and moaning throughout. If your ears weren’t ringing so hard, you might have caught the moan of surprise Erik let out as you soaked his face.

The unfamiliar sensation permeates your whole body, lingering as if seeping deep into the marrow of your bones. His mouth and fingers leave your body as your ears stop ringing and your hearing returns. You are still not all there yet, the occasional twitch wracking your body as the aftershocks wear off. Erik moves your leg off his shoulder and sits up, bewildered as he swipes some of your wetness off his mouth, stating, “I didn’t know you could do that.”

With your hand against your forehead, you can’t help but laugh, admitting, “Up until a minute ago, I didn’t know I could do that either.”

You see that wolfish grin spread across his face, and he reaches down, fingers drag up through your soaked folds. You want to squirm away, but thankfully, the touch is quick. His fingers run over his tongue, tasting you again before commenting, “Oh, we are gonna have sooo much fun with this.”

Fuck, he’s like a kid in a candy store right now, and you know he is gonna wear this out. You wouldn’t dream of complaining though, that felt amazing, even if it did make quite the mess. You consider investing in new towels when he’s suddenly on top of you, leaning down to pull you into a rather sloppy make out. The taste of you on his lips is driving you crazy all over again. If you don’t stop him now, you might not be able to stop again. You pull back from the kiss to request, “Can we get off the wet floor now?”

He agrees before getting up, and pulling you to your feet. You abandon your heels in the hallway and he helps you to the bedroom, your legs are still unsure under you. Once there, you strip out of your dress, ordering him, “Clothes off, I’m gonna suck your dick while I recover enough for you to fuck me.”

“You’ve got it all planned out, huh?” He muses as he starts taking off his shirt. You laugh lightly, assuring him, “Trust me, I need the break, you just nearly killed me out there.”

Soon enough, you are kneeling on the soft carpet, leaning on your crossed arms and resting on the bed. You watch him with a soft, fucked out smile on your face as he finishes stripping off his clothes. You look very happy. It’s hard to pick his favourite expression of yours, but this one comes pretty close to perfect.

He gets onto the bed, and you adjust, settling yourself between his spread thighs. Your hand wraps around the base of him and you lean in, tongue flicking over his piercing. God. You savour the heady taste of him as his cock weighs heavily on your tongue. You take your time, wanting to give yourself more headspace to focus on his pleasure now. Also, the reactions you draw from him are too satisfying to ignore. After the longest three weeks of your life, you have been aching to feel him in your mouth again. Wrapping your lips around his tip, you suck lightly, and his fingers dig into your comforter. His head tips back with a groan, insanely hard from all the build up and the squirming you did on his tongue earlier.

At first, you take it easy on him, keeping a light pace and a loose grip, but the energy of the night is quickly catching up with you both. His pretty moans encourage you to stroke faster, suck harder, and take him deeper. You extend it for a few more minutes; going unbelievably slow, then taking him all the way in and out of your mouth in a fluid motion over and over again. He is struggling to hold it together now. It’s obvious from the way his hand settles on your head, moving his hips in time with your mouth and panting out your name beautifully. Every time you take him halfway in, his hips buck up, and you have to suppress a gag.

By the fifth pass over his cock, he’s ordering you abruptly, “Get up here.”

You don’t fight him on it, wouldn’t dream of denying you both of what you desperately want.

You allow him to pull you along, and he obliges, laying you on your back, and situating himself on top of you. You spread your legs, knees bent and feet finding purchase on your sheets. He slots himself against your body, chest to chest, as he kisses you again. Your tongue parts his lips as he moans into your eager mouth and grinds against you in a hypnotizing rhythm that makes you even more desperate to be filled by him. Your hand slides down to line him up, and when he finally pushes into you, it clicks.

Somehow, the entire time you’ve been together, you’ve never fucked in this position. You’ve ridden him several times; He’s ruined you from behind both face down ass up, and bent over furniture; You’ve even fucked once or twice while spooning on your couch. But face to face like this? Not once. You are at a loss as to why.

It hadn’t been on purpose, at least you don’t think. Usually, in the heat of the moment you don’t give it much thought. You both simply ended up in whatever position that felt natural and easy in that moment.

He slides all the way in, eliciting a moan out of you both, muffled by your ongoing kiss. Your hands are on his shoulders and his hands are pressed into the sheets on either side of you. You break the kiss with another moan, head to the pillows as he starts to move. Most of your hook-ups have been rough and quick. Others were lazier, easier, but that isn’t the right way to describe tonight, either. It’s different, more intentional. All the jokes, dirty talk, and kinky fanfare that normally filled the silence before is replaced with your indulgent moans of pleasure. isn’t about fucking in and out as hard as possible at a brutal pace, this is much more of a slow whole body grind. The stimulation felt both inside and out is about as perfect as can be. You can’t help but think that this is startlingly intimate. Is it the eye contact you’re holding? Or the ample skin to skin contact? You have neither the motivation, nor the brainpower to think it over right now.

You aren’t sure how long it lasts, your minds clouded by the kisses, the wandering hands and the movements of your bodies sliding against each other in tandem. As your fingers pass over his skin shakily, extended kisses and quiet exclamations are exchanged, but all mutual attempts to convey the extent of your combined pleasure fall short. You both fail at doing it justice, and you don’t think you’ve ever been happier to fail at something. You don’t cum again, but you don’t really need to. This feels amazing enough as is, with or without the proper words to communicate it. Some things are better felt rather than said.

You wrap your arms around him and eventually he pants in your ear, “I’m close-” You nod once, beg quietly, “Do it. Please?”

“But you didn’t-” He starts, and you cut him off with a half laugh, “M’ fine.” Your fingers trace along his jaw, and turn his face to yours, feeling that his facial hair is still vaguely wet thanks to you. You kiss him softly then, your tongue invading his mouth, and start to purposefully clench around him, coaxing him into finding bliss.

You are intimately familiar with the idea that sexual satisfaction can be found with or without orgasm. And to be fair, the intensity of the orgasms he gave you out in the hall more than makes up for your lack of climax now. You aren’t even sure you could cum again after all that. Instead, you live vicariously through his pleasure as he reaches his end. He breaks the kiss, face falling into your neck as he cums. That groan that you love so much is released against your sweat-slicked skin, you sigh his name as he pulses into you. He is still inside of you when he presses another kiss to your mouth, and you return it, lazy and blissful. The pair of you are left panting, still processing how good this kind of sex could be despite its simplicity. His forehead is pressed to yours as you both try to even out your breathing.

Erik breaks you out of your reverie, asking, “How are my dating skills, hm?”

You laugh, “Couldn’t even wait to pull out before asking that shit?” Your arms fall from their place around him and he laughs too. You separate, quickly cleaning up with some tissues. You both relax next to each other in bed during the comedown, this time both of you on your sides facing each other. You finally chime in, “Your dating skills are great. You’ve got nothing to worry about.”

“Yeah?” He asks, hand reaching out for the water bottle kept on your nightstand. You help him out and pass it over, watching as he takes a drink. You prattle on without hesitation, “Yeah. You cleaned up great, you were flirty and you were funny! But I also learned a lot about you, too! You were very endearing; I would totally want a second date.”

He sets the bottle down and recalls, “Same for you. That dress you picked? My God.”

“Is that the only thing worth commenting on; What I wore?” You press, and he laughs with a fond roll of his eyes, “Okayyy, you were also witty, charming, totally fucking enchanting and sucked dick like a champion. Is that better?”

“Much better.” You smile and then curiously ask, “By the way, do you fuck like that on a first date?”

“Depends on how good the date is.” He shrugs with that sort of smug air you like a bit too much. You tell him, “You do that shit, and you are gonna have girls tripping all over themselves for another taste.”

“Yeah? Think I can fuck a girl into falling in love with me?” He jokes, but you respond seriously, “Totally.” You retrieve your water bottle for a drink. He glances at your bedside clock; It’s after eleven. He audibly sighs, “I should probably get going soon.”

“Awe nooo-” You toss the bottle aside and crawl over to him, he tries to lean away, but it’s half-hearted. He lets you cover his body with your own, your hands gripping his sides as you lean in and kiss him. He returns it, slower and sweeter than he probably should have.

You break the sweet moment, meeting his eyes and asking quietly, “Stay?”

He laughs lightly, shaking his head as he tries to brush you off. He gives you a weak excuse at first, “I didn’t bring anything to spend the night.”

“C’mon, Erik, that hasn’t stopped you before.” You pout, and he wants to stay. God he does. He wants to say fuck it and just spend the rest of the night in bed with you. He wants to try the shortbread you made, and maybe even ask if you had any more of that ice cream that you shared in this very bed months ago. Erik knows that despite what he may want, if he spends the night and comes home tomorrow in last night’s clothes, he will never hear the fucking end of it from Julia. Fuck his life. He hates himself just a little as he concludes, “I really have to go home tonight.”

You hum sadly before you say, “Okay. Can I at least tempt you into sharing a shower with me before you go?”

He’d be stupid not to take advantage of the opportunity to shower with you, since it would be another first. He rationalizes this decision by considering how wrong it would be to get back into his nice clothes without cleaning up after tonight's events. And so, he relents, letting you “drag” him to your bathroom. The view is pretty unforgettable, his eyes following the trails of soap and water cascading down your frame as you scrub yourself down in front of him. He even lets you wash his hair when you ask. His eyes are closed as you work. You are talking about some tv show you’ve been binging lately and all he can focus on is the feeling of your fingers massaging his scalp. You are unfairly good with your hands. When he gets out, he is blanketed in the subtle scent of your shampoo and body wash. He isn’t annoyed in the slightest. In fact, he finds it to be shockingly comforting.

You carry on the conversation as you dry off, and he gets re-dressed. He is also considerate enough to help you mop up the wet spot in the hallway. You send him on his way with a hug and a piece of millionaires shortbread to take with him. He eats it on the walk home, the butter, caramel and chocolate mixed with the lingering taste of you serve as a delicious end to this unforgettable night.

#Erik Campbell X Reader #Erik Campbell x you #Final Destination x reader #BHF writing #Casually Devoted #Music Man and The Freak #FINALLY #WE DID IT GANG #Part four was such a fucking labour of love I seriously hope you all enjoy this #Chapter five is well underway and the idiots are set to very very much overthink it

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birdiesnest · 1 day ago

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Aug 3rd | 994 Words | Sultry | @wolfstarmicrofic

With a whine, Remus stumbled up off the couch- and it was only then he realized that Sirius' legs had been stretched out and his feet were resting on his lap, and with the movement he had dislodged them and woken Sirius up.

"Oh what the- oh god, why am I so sweaty, fuck-"

Sirius blinked, pushing hair stuck to his forehead away from his eyes, staring up at Remus and sharing the pained look on his face.

"Powers out, thus no AC. I sort of remember waking up last night when it happened, but I would have expected it to be back up by now.." Remus felt a bit lightheaded as he stood, sweat dripping down his back. "I think.. I'm going to take a cold shower."

Sirius just nodded mutely, debating if opening the windows would help or make it worse. Just as he was about to get up and try to find something to change into, he heard Remus shut the bathroom door and groan, opening it again and poking his head out. Sirius stopped in the hall and raised an eyebrow at him.

"I forgot no power means no lights. Can I use your phone flashlight? Mine is almost dead."

Sirius pulled his phone from his pocket, wiped the sweat off the screen, and put in the passcode before handing it to Remus. "Gonna find the skimpiest clothes that are suitable for public. I refuse to stay here and melt all day, there HAS to be somewhere around with AC and maybe an outlet for your phone."

Remus just nodded dumbly and turned on the flashlight, shutting the door behind him.

Twenty minutes later the pair of them were walking down the street, both in shorts- Sirius had found an old gym tank top, the wide open sides allowing the slight breeze to cool him down, while Remus had settled on a loose t-shirt. He was hot, but not hot enough to expose more skin than he needed to.

"It's so.. muggy." Sirius said, voice strained and tired.

"Downright sweltering." Remus quipped back, squinting at the now clear sky.

"Steamy." Sirius responded, a smirk playing at his lips.

Remus turned to him and squinted his eyes, realizing the back and forth that Sirius was playing at. "Suffocating, even."

Sirius grinned wider. "You might say it's.. oppressive."

Remus bit his lip, thinking for a moment before letting out a little laugh. "Sultry, perhaps?"

Sirius barked out a laugh, tilting his head to the side. "Sultry? Isn't that like.. sexy?"

Remus rolled his eyes, running a hand through his damp hair. "It can be, but it meant hot and humid first."

Sirius squinted at him before turning to his phone, checking how far from the cafe he had found online they were. "Still, that's cheating. Walking dictionary.."

Remus laughed and bumped his shoulder against Sirius', grinning. "Don't be a sore loser, Pads. It's too hot for that."

Sirius stuck his tongue out at Remus before turning to spot the Cafe- they had posted on their social media that they still had power AND air conditioning- and letting out a whoop as he ran the rest of the way towards the doors. It was a small place that looked like it probably didn't deal with much traffic but it was definitely busy today.

Remus followed at his own pace, too hot to run, and sighed blissfully as he walked into the cool air. Sirius was already standing next to a small table shoved in the corner, sitting and waving Remus over, grinning when the tall man slumped into the seat.

"Got here just as a couple was getting up, so I snagged it. What do you want to drink?"

Remus smiled up at Sirius who, rejuvenated by the cool air and promise of coffee, was bouncing on his toes. "Iced vanilla latte, thanks. I'll hold down the fort."

Sirius nodded and skipped to the line which was at least half a dozen people deep, but Remus didn't mind having to wait as long as it was inside. He pulled his phone and charger from his pocket, spotting the outlet near the table, and tried to untangle the cord when he sensed someone standing near him- he frowned, wondering if there was something wrong for Sirius to be back already, but nearly yelped when he turned to see a stranger leering at him.

The man was eerily.. perfect. Smooth skin, symmetrical face, blonde hair artfully tamed into place with what was probably a metric ton of product, and a wide smile full of perfectly white, straight teeth. Remus tried to smile back but it felt like a grimace, clearing his throat before speaking. "Um, can I help you?"

"I daresay you might- would you mind terribly if I used this table? You see, I come here every day to work-" He gestured to the laptop bag on his shoulder. "-and I'm afraid you've taken my seat."

Remus blinked, looking around the cafe. If it had been any other day he might have agreed but he wasn't about to give up a seat to some intitled prick. "Uh, sorry, I'm actually really tired- I feel a bit faint, to be honest. Our power is out and we needed to find a place with air.."

The man opened his mouth with a scowl, looking like he was going to demand Remus to leave. Thankfully, Sirius arrived at that exact moment with two large iced coffees, sliding into the seat across from Remus and handing him his drink before turning to the man.

"Gilderoy, what a pity to see your ugly face again."

Remus nearly choked on his drink, the man- Gilderoy, apparently- huffing angrily and sneering at Sirius before turning away with his nose in the air. Sirius grinned and winked at Remus before leaning in to talk quietly. "That fucker was like a dead fish in bed."

This time Remus DID choke on his drink. Prev

#wolfstar #remus lupin #sirius black #microfic #wolfstarmicrofic #today i learned that sultry can also refer to the weather!#the more you know #a new challenger appears #gilderoy lockhart #unfortunately #also i decided while writing this that in this story sirius is gay and remus is bi #theyre both out but because they're idiots they both think theres no way the other could like them #im going to explore their thoughts more as i go to hopefully explain their point of view though

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emberphoenixisgoingtolive · 3 days ago

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I know I can just say this in reblogs or comments but YOUR HEADCANONS ARE AWESOME!!!

You might have already done this but by chance do you have any n6 camping headcanons? (Post island) :D

camp fam going camping headcanons:

i’m so sorry this is like. mostly silly shenanigans and also a month late :’))

general:

i think nublar put them off camping for a solid year afterwards, but they kinda came around to the idea after a fair bit of therapy

so what do they do? they plan a giant fucking camping trip with the whole group, their parents, Mae, Dave and Roxie

the tent groups go as such:

Brooklynn, Yaz, Sammy

Ben, Kenji, Darius

Dave, Roxie, Mae

Simone (Darius’s mother), Brand, Ash and Trevor (Brooklynn’s dads)

Evelynn (Ben’s mother), Nadia (Yaz’s mother), and Sammy’s parents

Dave does a bbq every evening for dinner and he loves it (and yes, be brought his own bbq from home)

they have a campfire every night. the campfire confessions are wild. one of the camp fam makes the most dark and morbid joke ever, and the other five are laughing their heads off while the adults are sitting on camping chairs a few metres away blinking in horror

when the camp fam go, the girls all have their period at around the same time (they planned this trip sooo badly oops) and the first night, the boys are super loud and chatty and kind of annoying and the girls get almost no sleep, so that morning, at 5am, Yaz wakes up and empties their bin of (wrapped) sanitary products all over their tent floor. Kenji’s screams of disgust wake the whole group (and half the campsite) up. when the adults work out what happened, they’re laughing their heads off. Kenji turns to Dave and says “can’t you say something? do it for me, guy to guy?” and Dave, cackling with laughter, goes, “sorry buddy, you're on your own”

as revenge for the Period Prank, Ben puts a live cockroach in Yaz’s sleeping bag. this then sparks a massive incident later known as the Bug Wars. everyone is finding the most gruesome critters to sneak onto someone else’s unsuspecting limb/shoulder or into someone’s unsuspecting tent/sleeping bag/duffel. the creatures are slowly getting more and more gross and creepy. it started as girls vs boys but alliances were made and broken. it’s everyone against each other

this is all put to a stop when Ben and Kenji try to train a coyote to steal clothes and both get bitten

Dave, Roxie and Mae are trusted to take the kids hiking one day while the camp fam’s parents explore the town, and they actually have so much fun exploring and being in the wilderness (yk... without dangerous dinosaurs and threats to their survival). Dave and Roxie are actually very fun people to be around when they aren’t responsible for the kids’ safety on a dinosaur filled island

Dave, Roxie and Mae also tease the campers and give advice. they’re besties guys trust

by the end of the trip, the camp fam’s parents have a newfound respect for Dave, Roxie and Mae. honestly they understand why they struggled keeping the kids under control. individually they aren’t so bad but together they are the most feral children they have ever encountered. together we make us so much worse (more chaotic) vibes

Darius:

FINALLY gets to finish telling that campfire story he never finished in season 1 episode 3. he’s making everyone listen to it

went camping a few times as a kid so he knows how to set up a tent and everything. he’s the one teaching Kenji how to camp, and bless him he’s so patient but Kenji is such a disaster

helps Sammy with the cooking/washing dishes stuff

Brooklynn:

biggest overpacker. brings a hair dryer before realising there is no power at the campsite

she stays up SO late chatting and whispering and giggling. Sammy and Yaz hit her with pillows to make her stop and it turns into a full blown pillow fight. from the outside of their tent it looks like they’re fistfighting a flock of seagulls

Yaz:

hits Kenji’s hand with a hammer by mistake when they were putting up the tents

every morning (stupid early morning. 5–6am morning. before breakfast morning), Yaz goes on a run and every time, she takes a different person with her. she takes Sammy, her mother, Roxie, Brooklynn, Ben, Darius, and the last morning she goes alone because Kenji refused to go running

Sammy crawls into her sleeping bag at night (to snuggle only) and it’s the best thing ever

Sammy:

crawls into Yaz’s sleeping bag at night and it’s the best thing ever

accidentally stepped on Brooklynn while she was going to snuggle with Yaz and Brooklynn muttered “stupid fucking sapphics” in her sleep

in charge of washing the dishes and general cooking stuff. she LOVES cooking food on the fire, she finds it so charming and quaint

Dave is basically a grilling expert, so he teaches Sammy how to use a grill and they have so much fun doing barbeques together

Kenji:

by the end of the trip, the camp fam come to the conclusion that Kenji must’ve angered the wilderness somehow because it fucking hates him

he gets scratched by brambles, accidentally falls into poison ivy, stung by nettles, stung by wasps, stung by bees, bitten by a coyote, and twists his ankle in one week

somehow he still manages to have a good time

he also learns a lot about taking responsibility (in a non near death situation) and is very enthusiastic to help out around the campsite

Ben:

his mother fully expected him to be wary of all the germs/wilderness and is so shocked when he does shit like plays in the dirt and eats bugs

drags his sleeping bag out of the tent and sleeps on the ground. or he forgets his sleeping bag entirely and falls asleep on the grass

adores the campfire. stops toasting marshmallows and straight up sets sticks on fire, waving them around like torches. this continues until he accidentally sets the boys’ tent on fire and he stops

wants to camp in the most remote locations; the others make him compromise on a camp site near a woodland area that he spends most of his time exploring

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sun-queen · 3 days ago

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Follow me

Where Noel wonders if you’d follow him

Author’s note: Thanks for all the love on my last post. It means the most. Felt a bit weird about not having any note on that post but I didn’t really expect anyone to see it or start following me. So thank you for that and I hope you enjoy my writing.

"Mam! Noel won't let me play out with him!" Peggy and I roll our eyes when we hear the familiar whining that we hear so often. Feet patter on the carpet on the floor above us and Liam runs in from upstairs. About once a week this happens. Me and Noel will be going out somewhere and he’ll try his luck at telling his little brother to piss off. It never works. Liam comes crying to me and Peggy and he comes out with us. Today is the latest attempt.

"He told me to piss off, mam"

"Don't worry Liam, we'll take you out" Steam from my tea gets in my face as I look over my mug to look at him. Liam grins smugly, he knows I've got a soft spot for him. That I think of him like a little brother and that I automatically override most of Noel's decisions. Peggy pokes her head out of the kitchen door to shout up the stairs.

"Noel!" I can almost hear their winces. Peggy’s a lovely woman but she’s strict. Especially when it comes to their relationship. She’s always said he wants Noel to look after Liam. So when he tries to tell him he can’t come out with us, she never has it.

I hear the stairs creak. Slowly. He’s prolonging the inevitable. The reality he could leave his brother at home and not be whinged at by his mum and me still alive in his head until he finds his way to the kitchen. That reality is not his. He appears in the doorway. Shoe twisting into floor in annoyance.

"Noel, you’re taking your brother with you" She says it sternly. It’s not even a statement, it’s a command.

"Oh! But mam!" Noel whines, arms falling to his sides.

"No buts, you take him with you or you don’t go at all" she says with one hand on her hip. The other punctuating her every word with a wooden spoon. Liam stands beside me, faking a sad pout. Little shit. I nearly laugh but I manage to hold it in. Noel’s scowling at the idea of having to take his little brother with us.

"I took him to the football last week" he complains. To be fair, he is a shite at the football. Complains about the walk so we have to get the bus, always wants to sit at the top and doesn’t get down fast enough so we miss the stop. Then we have to eat before we go in so we’re not spending ridiculous amounts in the stadium but he always asks for a hotdog or something in there anyway. Complaining ‘Noel, I’m starving’ even though he ate about ten minutes before. Then he’s complaining ‘Noel, I’m cold’ even though we told him to take a jacket. Noel ends up having to give him his own and shivering on the way home, sometimes he shares mine. I like sharing my jacket with him, being that close to him. Like when we’re forced to sit next to each other on the floor on Christmas Day because there’s not enough places to sit.

"Noel…" Peggy snaps me out of my thoughts with a warning tone.

"Come on, it'll be fun. He’ll be right, won’t you Li?" I interrupt before it can get any further. Knowing if it does, it’ll end up just being me and Liam going out. Liam nods eagerly at me while Noel just gives me an annoyed look. As though I’ve betrayed him for even suggesting it.

"Right, fine. Let’s go then. But don’t moan if your legs get tired. I mean it" Liam just about jumps in excitement even though he knew he'd get his way. We get out of the house with a final warning to be careful from Peggy and start walking.

"Where are we going?" As soon as we step out of the door, Liam’s question emerges. Noel shakes his head, staring at him with an incredulous look on his face.

"Why were you begging to come when you didn’t even know where we’re going?"

"I dunno" Liam shrugs off the question, casual as ever.

"Why don’t you go and play with your own mates?" He thrusts his arm out towards one of their houses across the road from us.

"I don’t wanna play with them. I wanna play with you" Whining as though Noel might send him home, even though he knows Peggy would go mad. He knows when to switch it on to give him credit.

"God you two are gonna be the death of me aren’t you? Let’s just have a nice day" It’s aimed more at Noel than at Liam but they both nod anyway. Noel rolls his eyes as if I can’t see it. I don’t say anything.

The bell above the door jingles as we walk into the record shop. The cashier looks up, eyes falling back down to his newspaper when he sees us. We’re quite regular, have been for years. The worn floor creaks as I walk through the shop, finding my way to the new releases sections. I flick through a few albums, seeing some I’d like but can’t afford. My eyes catch the second hand section and I reluctantly move over. Why do I even bother torturing myself with the new releases?

The second hand albums make a sticky, crackling sound as I flick through them that’s all too familiar to me. My mum’s voice rings through my head as I do ‘You can find some good bargains if you know what to look for’. Words she says often. At charity shops, car boots, flea markets. My hands stop sifting when I feel like I won’t find anything I want. She would never. Sighing, I make my way back over to Liam and Noel.

Noel’s sifting through the alphabetised vinyls, they’re at B. Liam’s eyes light up. His obsession with John Lennon extends further than most 12 year olds. Most kids know of abbey road and Imagine but it feels like Liam knows everything there is to know about John Lennon. For a kid who isn’t studious, when he’s interested in something, he learns everything he can about it. Liam’s in Noel’s ear, telling him little facts and tidbits that we and everyone else Liam knows have heard a hundred times over. Noel seems annoyed but not frustrated. He listens and nods occasionally. He can be nice to his brother when he wants to be. He knows how far is too far and telling him to stop talking about music is something he’d never do. He looks up when he realises I’ve found my way back to them.

"Not find anything?" Head tilting slightly, sympathetically. I can tell he feels a bit sorry for me, knowing how I love finding new records. Experiencing the new music. Who doesn’t?

I sigh, shrug softly. "No. You?"

He holds up a copy of Nevermind the Bollocks proudly, as if he made it himself. I smile back at him"How much is that?"

"Three quid"

"Really? That’s alright"

"Yeah" he smiles, looking at the cover. Tracing the letters over with his eyes. As if they might disappear if he stops looking at them.

"Wait. I thought you already had a copy" I recall the yellow cover often sitting on the record player in their living room. Always when Peggy isn’t home.

"I did. Clumsy arse sat on it and cracked it" he points at Liam who frowns.

"You left it on your bed!"

"Yeah, on my bed" he emphasises the word, pointing at himself as he does.

"Alright, alright. Well you’ve found another one for cheap haven’t ya? It’s fine" The bickering stops as I interject. They both look at me and then at each other, rolling their eyes but not continuing the argument.

We walk through Burnage after Noel’s paid for his album. Sky grey, full of clouds. Dreary to most but I always found something interesting in it. You never know what to expect from Manchester weather, one minute it’s pouring rain and the next it’s thirty degrees.

Liam kicks stones on the path into imaginary goals while me and Noel talk about his new-old album. Noel retells the story of how Liam broke his old-old one, frustration in his voice. Liam spots some of his friends as we walk and runs over to them before we can say anything. I can hear him bragging about being out with his older brother and his best mate. The gate to the park squeaks on its rusted hinges as I open it to follow him in. Loose gravel crackles under our feet. All the benches are full, it’s a weekend, of course the park’s busy.

"Of course he picks the place where there’s nowhere to sit"

"Always" Dew coats my back as I lie on the grass. I didn’t realise it would be that wet.

"Isn’t that wet?" Noel says, too late.

"Yeah but I’ve committed now"

He laughs at my misfortune but he lies beside me anyway. There’ll be a wet patch on my jacket and my arse when I stand up but I don’t worry about that now. Wind pushes the clouds by, brushing through my hair and on my skin. That comforting weather, ‘warm but not too warm’ as many people like to say.

Noel turns to look at me, his hair messing up as it mixes in with blades of wet grass.

"What do you see when you’re like this?" He asks with curious twinge in his voice. I hear it often. He’s a curious person.

"When I’m like what?"

"When you’re all dreamy, staring at nowt but you can see summat that I can’t. What is it?"

I laugh, thinking about how often he must need to look at me to realise that. "What?"

"There’s gotta be summat you can see that I can’t see. There’s just clouds up there, what is it?" His arms gesture to the sky, not sure what he’s pointing at or looking for.

"I don’t know. I was just thinking about the weather"

He shakes his head, laughing "That can’t be it"

"It is"

"Bit underwhelming" he teases. Says it almost as an insult. Something he’s always feared being. Underwhelming.

My eyes roll in response. "I was just thinking about how most people don’t like the weather here" Like him. He doesn’t, he’s always complaining about it. How much he wants to escape, wants for something better. He’s always been bigger than Burnage.

"But you do" Noel’s never understood how I could be content with Burnage. Just Burnage. Not just the weather, the place in general. How I’m alright with concrete and grey skies. How if I could never leave here for whatever reason, I’d be alright with that.

"Yeah. I do"

He pauses, as if choosing his words carefully. Like he does when he’s writing songs but he doesn’t do that with me. Not usually. "Don’t you ever think you’re better than this place?"

"I don’t know" My answer comes quickly.

"Come on. You can’t honestly be alright with never getting further than Burnage"

I shrug "I think it’s more about the people than the place"

"So me?" He says it cheekily. Expecting me to say yes, almost challenging me to say no.

"You and Liam"

"Would you follow me? If I left" Hope’s in his voice. But so is fear. Fear I could say no.

"Follow you where?" The clouds are still moving. They follow each other, pushed by the wind.

"I don’t know. America? Japan? France? Germany?" His hands thread through the grass, fingers twisted with streaks of green. Some of them break under his touch.

"What’s there for you?"

"Music"

"Money" It comes out as a correction. I suppose they’re both half true, he’d like both.

"Maybe. What’s wrong with that?" He doesn’t face me anymore, looking back at the sky. Concentrated. As though he’s trying to find what he thinks I see up there.

"Nothing. I didn’t say there was anything wrong with it" There isn’t really. Of course it would be nice to have anything you want whenever you want it.

"So? Would you?"

"Yeah. I would"

Liam scores a goal in the match he’s playing with his mates. He’s doing a dramatic celebration, sliding on his knees and creating new grass stains over the ones Peggy just managed to wash out. I smile at the sight. But when I look back at Noel, he’s not looking at them. He’s looking at me.

"Anywhere?" He asks it nervously. As if he’s scared I might say no. The possibility of losing me to his dream of something bigger scaring him. I love my simple life. But I’d follow him. Anywhere.

"Yeah…anywhere"

#noel gallagher x reader #oasis band #fanfic #noel gallagher

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pdalicedraws · 8 months ago

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#dungeon meshi #delicious in dungeon #mithrun #mithrun of the house of kerensil #mithrun dunmeshi #dunmeshi #gävlebocken #gävle goat #Gavlebocken #gavle goat #pd alice draws #I have committed a meme #fifteen minute in edit to make the pic a little better and add alt text whoops #this is why you sit on something for a bit before you post it. even a dumb meme.

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cruesuffix · 8 months ago

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last spoti wrapped post but this was the evolution from last year to this year when i realized i could just convert all my fav tracks on spotify to mp3s on my fav offline app…get ready for next year when i’ve downloaded every song i can think of and no longer need that stupid ass app unless it’s to discover new songs!!

#also this is a reminder that i am criminally insane about music #if i was talented enough i’d probably be in a band rn #my entire life’s dream but im currently too broke to buy an instrument and also probably too old to learn how to play one #but like…i was meant to do something music related with my life this is proof #ughhhh like i want it more than anything but alas…not sure if it’s meant to be #also it’s always morally correct to 🏴‍☠️music on the spot app #why would I want to sit through five ads when I can listen to music uninterrupted for free??#i had like 5000 songs on the app before i learnt I could just convert the spot tracks so now I gotta replace them all slowly #like the spotify users and the apple music users should come together and find a way to mp3 their tracks #maybe then the companies would make their free apps better #also you heard none of this from me #I did not teach you to 🏴‍☠️ the spotify tracks you learnt that on your own #plus wrapped this year sucked major ass that’s why i’ve barely posted mines #motley crue on top three of my top artists was a major surprise tbh even though I’ve been listening to them quite a bit this year and last #but like…who really cares tbh. sorry for yapping this much #like wtf am i on about lmaooo

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rafeysbunny · 9 months ago

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‧₊˚ ⋅ i'll show you, rafe cameron

stepbro!rafe x fem!reader

masterlist

synopsis. in which your stepbrother kindly offers to show you porn for the first time.

warnings. stepbro!rafe, innocent!reader (but she's not an airhead), virgin!reader, smut, fingering, rafe putting in just the tip, oral sex (fem receiving), rafe licks his own creampie.

word count. 4k.

author's note. idea by @matts1andonly. english isn't my first language so there might be spelling mistakes, don't hold it against me. enjoy!

it's past midnight when you finally slide out of your bedroom without making a sound. you have been waiting patiently for your mom and ward to go to bed so you can do this without risking getting caught. wheezie is already asleep too, sarah is out with john b somewhere, and rafe left the house earlier, not telling anyone where to, so you know he's going to arrive late, as always.

it's the perfect moment.

rafe's room is down the hallway, so you make your way there quietly not to wake anyone, your barefoot feet making soft footstep sounds when you walk. once there, you open the door as carefully as you possibly can, knowing it creaks every time it gets open. this time, thanks to god, it does not.

you manage to sneak into the dormitory unnoticed, then shut the door behind you. the place is dark, only a faint glimmer of moonlight coming in through his curtains, but you want to lay low, so you don't turn on the lights. by all means, the dim lighting is enough for you to spot what you're looking for.

rafe's mac, laying there on his desk.

what's the point behind all of this? you might be wondering. well, let me answer you real quick. turns out, this handsome, muscled college guy has invited you on a date. problem is, you have never been on a date. you haven't even hold hands with a guy romantically before, much less kissed or fucked one. you simply refuse to come off as a prude, which honestly you are, but that dream of a man doesn't need to know that.

and that's why you have decided that it is a good idea to break into your stepbrother's bedroom and borrow his laptop, since yours broke last week, to watch porn in it for the first time.

well, now that you hear it out loud, it probably sounded better in your head. anyways...

you stroll towards the desk with languid steps and sit down on rafe's chair, small hands reaching hesitantly to open the laptop. you turn it on and the screen light illuminates your pretty face right away. you swear your fingers are shaking a little bit as you open up the browser and type 'porn videos' on the search bar.

somehow, you feel like you are doing something wrong, and you can't seem to shake the guilt away. either way, you don't back out. you click the enter button and, after just a few seconds, a million search results pop up. honestly, you don't know where to start, so you click on the first one, which redirects you to a website called pornhub.

the home page is full of videos, the first thing to catch your attention being the obscene thumbnails of each one of them. your cheeks flush a deep shade of red. you read some of the titles as you bite your lip nervously, realising most of them contain the word 'stepsister' in them, and you wonder if that is the only content posted on this page.

how innocent of you not to know that the website is making recommendations based on your stepbro's most searched tag.

before things escalate further, you spot rafe's airpods max sitting there on the desk and decide to grab them, connecting them to the laptop and putting them on —this way you can make sure no one overhears anything. after that, you spend a few more minutes scrolling through the page, during which you discover that there's a ton of categories to choose from.

how are you supposed to know which one to pick?

you are so invested in your little research, headphones canceling the noise, that you don't hear neither rafe opening the front door nor him walking up the stairs and, surely, don't notice him standing behind you until he speaks. and it's too late by then.

"the fuck are you doing, sweetheart?" he blurts, complete and utterly shocked to see his naive stepsister fuckin' watching pornhub.

well shit, maybe you aren't as innocent as he thought you were.

you jolt instantly, jumping out of your seat as you feel all the colour draining from your cheeks. no way rafe just caught you in the act. this can't be real. despite how bad you want to run away, you are left with no other choice but to turn around and face him, wishing the earth would swallow you up.

"i– this is not what it looks like, i swear i can explain," you stutter nervously, taking of the airpods with trembling hands. from here on, the anxious rambling begins, "i wasn't doing anything... this guy– well, i... i uhm– i got a date, 'kay? with this guy from class and– listen, i know this is silly, but..."

"jesus christ, baby, slow down, 'kay?" he stops you, his heart nearly melting from how cute you look, so shy and flustered. he almost feels bad for interrupting whatever the hell you were doing here.

the colour has returned to your cheeks, and you are all flushed now, from head to toe. your face feels like it's on fire; you have never been this embarrassed before.

"could you please start over?" he asks, hoping to hear a coherent explanation to why you are in his room, in the middle of the night, and watching porn on his laptop.

you take a deep breath, fidgeting with the hem of your top. you are so deeply ashamed that you don't seem to remember that you are wearing nothing but a flimsy white singlet and a tiny pair of matching panties. rafe's very aware of that fact, though, hungry eyes trailing all over your beautiful body.

"i've got a date with a guy from class," you start explaining, white teeth nibling occasionally on your plump bottom lip, "but i've never dated anyone, ya' know? i've no experience, and i don't want him to think i'm pathetic if we..."

"fuck?" he finishes your sentence, a roguish grin spreading across his handsome face.

if possible, your blush deepens even more at the vulgarity while you mutter a quiet 'yeah' in response.

honestly, he is a bit jealous of that guy. not only you are willing to let him fuck you, but you are also trying to learn how to do it properly so he has a good time doing it. yeez, what a shame for him he is going to kill him as soon as he finds out who he is; there's no chance rafe's letting you near any other man but him.

"i thought, uhm, maybe watching that would help..." you add coyly, his silence making you more nervous.

it is cute how you try to avoid saying words like 'fuck' or 'porn', like it is a crime to pronounce them or something.

"you know what? let's watch it together," he proposes.

there's a mischievous glint in his eyes that doesn't go unnoticed. you swear your cheeks might just explode at any second, and you can't help the pathetic stutter that comes out when you talk. "uhm, i don't think that'd be appropriate," you refuse, shaking your head.

"why not? you want help, and i can help you here, sweetheart," he answers, his voice surprisingly soft and gentle —unlike rafe, "that's what big brothers are for, aren't they?"

he takes a few steps in his direction until he is standing right beside you. then, he grabs the laptop in his large hands as he flashes you a wicked smirk, his curtain bangs falling messily on his forehead. you gulp, having him so close makes you feel a certain way; you cannot deny that.

"you, uhm, being my stepbrother is exactly why not," you stammer as you tilt your head back to look at him, his height towering over you.

"bullshit," he retorts, huffing. "you trust me?"

your first mistake is, probably, trusting rafe cameron. "yeah, i do, but..."

"that's why 'm perfect for the job, baby," he interrupts you. his words are clearly intended to manipulate you, but you are way too innocent to notice it, "i'm probably the guy you feel most comfortable with, aren't i? i can give ya' all the advice you need."

to be fair, he isn't wrong about that. you don't have any male friends, and you are honestly too embarrassed to ask your girlfriends for help on this department, not wanting them to think less of you. plus, rafe is a guy; he knows better what guys like, right?

"wouldn't it be kinda... weird ?" you ask, clearly hesistant.

"weird?" he repeats. "no, 'course not."

only a few more sweet, reassuring words is all it takes for him to gently coax you into watching his favourite pornos with him. his cock starts to harden in his pants just at the thought of having you like that. when you finally accept, he swears he's on cloud nine.

god, he's been wanting you for months now; he can't believe this is happening.

"c'mere, baby," he eagerly instructs you, getting on his bed.

he sits with his back resting on the headboard and pats the spot between his legs to invite you to sit there. he places the laptop next to him, the pornhub website still open on it. you move slowly towards him, cheeks slightly flushed from the embarrassment as you settle on the mattress in between his parted thighs, your back pressed to his hard chest.

he wraps one strong arm securely around your waist, his hand coming to rest gently on your tummy. with his other hand, he reaches for the laptop sitting beside him, carefully bringing it closer so the two of you can see the screen properly.

your heart is beating so fast in your chest that he can probably hear it, too. the way he is touching you is not making it easier for you to stay calm, either, his fingers tenderly tracing patterns on your belly over the thin fabric of your shirt while he scrolls through the page.

he seems to sense your discomfort and chuckles low in his throat, his warm breath tickling your ear. "relax, sis," he whispers teasingly, his voice laced with amusement. "i'm not gonna make you watch anything that'll traumatize you."

"it's just– this is a bad idea," you babble, fidgeting nervously when he finally clicks on a video and a pretty young woman appears on screen.

the actress is beautiful; she has a gorgeous body and face. her lips are full and pink, and she has these big, expressive eyes that appear to gleam. and you don't realize it, but she looks exactly like you.

the scene starts playing; in it, the girl is watching some movie with a guy that, apparently, is her roommate —at least that's what the title says.

"shhh..." he hushes you softly, his voice barely audible over the sounds emanating from his laptop's speakers. "just watch. don't overthink it."

"okay," you answer between gritted teeth.

your pretty eyes are fixed on the laptop while you try not to cringe at how bad the script and acting are, which is nearly impossible, to be honest. despite that, you keep watching in silence as the video plays, growing more flustered as the clock ticks.

you didn't know mouths could be used for that... interesting.

as opposed to you, rafe's pretty chill behind you, like he's unbothered by this whole situation —he's actually hard as fuck inside his pants, the thing is you haven't noticed. you wonder how he can act so unfazed, since you keep pushing your thighs together to try and soothe the throbbing sensation building in between them while you take in the lewd actions occurring on screen.

you weren't expecting your body to have this reaction, and now you don't know what to do to make it stop.

rafe soon becomes aware of the way you keep letting out soft sighs and squirming in his arms, plush ass rubbing against his cock every time you do it. it's a miracle he is still holding back, though he doesn't know how much time he will be able to.

he's not even paying attention to the video anymore, his entire focus put on you. he finally ventures to lean in, his hot breath grazing the shell of your ear as he whispers, "you know, i could do that to you..." his hand slowly slides to your plush thigh and he gives it a gentle squeeze.

his movements are measured and controlled not to scare you, but your breath hitches in your chest at his actions either way, body tensing up in his grasp. your brain is telling you to push him away, but the insistent throb in your sex doesn't like that idea, not one bit.

"you– you could?" you utter quietly, not taking your eyes away from the laptop.

rafe notices the uncertainty in your voice, but the way you haven't pushed him away yet emboldens him to continue, his large hand gradually sliding north.

"yeah, baby," he murmurs huskily against your ear, fingertips brushing along your inner thigh. "i could put my fingers inside you, just like he's doing to her..."

his words make you blush heavily as a little gasp is released from your pouty lips. "would it feel good?" you ask naively.

your eyes are transfixed in the sight of the guy on the screen pushing his fingers inside the girl's pussy. god, she seems like she's enjoying it so much... and you desperately want to feel like that too. you can't even bring yourself to care that it's your stepbrother offering to show you.

rafe's fingers creep higher and higher until they're barely brushing against your cotton panties. "yeah," he growls huskily against your ear, "it'd feel real good, sweetheart. i promise..."

you shudder, a sweet little mewl escaping your throat involuntarily. you can't help but blush at your own reaction, slightly embarrassed by it. you tear your eyes away from the screen, head falling back against his chest as you look up at him.

"it's throbbing, rafe..." you whine, self-control slipping from your hands. "can you make it better?"

rafe's fingers finally make contact with your wet underwear, pressing against your clit through the fabric. he rubs gentle circles around your sensitive nub, his other hand curling around your supple thigh to spread your legs wider.

"oh, baby, you're soaked through your panties..." he pants out.

your body literally melts into his touch like butter, perfectly shaped brows knitting together in a frown of pleasure. the girl in the video moans, and you do too, both sounds echoing in the silence of his room.

taking your moan as an invitation, rafe carefully hooks his fingers in the gusset of your panties to push them aside, exposing your sopping cunt to the cool air of his bedroom. then, he traces your wet slit slowly, leisurely, as if savoring the velvety feel of your skin.

"such a pretty little pussy..." he praises, eyes hungrily taking in the pink expanse of flesh.

you squirm and let out a soft whimper, biting your lip right after to avoid keep making noises; the last thing you want is to wake up your parents or wheezie. rafe notices your struggle and swiftly reaches up to cover your mouth with his free hand, muffling your sweet moans.

he gathers some of the wetness dripping out of your cunt before trailing his fingers all the way up to your clit, rubbing it gently. your eyes roll back, hips bucking up against his hand instinctively. the way your swollen bud throbs beneath his fingertips is going to make you mad. he begins to touch your clit in fast, tight circles, his other hand still holding your mouth shut to keep you quiet.

he leans in to whisper against your ear, his hot breath sending shivers down your spine, "if you make a sound, i'll stop, got it?"

you nod obediently in response, making your best effort to comply; you don't want him to stop doing this, never. as a reward, rafe slides a thick finger down your slit and presses it against your clenched entry, steadily applying pressure until your tight muscles finally give in and allow his digit ingress.

"so fuckin' tight," he groans under his breath at the feeling of your narrow pussy engulfing his finger.

withdrawing his finger almost all the way out, he teases your entrance with the tip, making you tremble with anticipation before pushing it back in to the knuckle, his palm cupping your mound as he starts to thrust in a smooth, lazy rhythm. you swallow a whiny cry while your eyelids flutter shut, pretty face scrunched in a blissful expression.

rafe works his finger in and out of your slick pussy slowly, marveling at how your velvety walls flutter around the digit. he curls it inward, searching for that special spot that's guaranteed to drive you wild.

after a few experimental pokes, rafe's fingertip finally brushes over your g-spot, eliciting a muffled moan from under his palm. he smiles wickedly against your skin, and you shudder in his grasp, pleasure waves running through your body.

"that's it, sweetheart... feel good?" he croons softly, fingering you nice and deep.

you can't bring yourself to reply, the sensation of his large digit fucking your pussy, added to the constant rubbing of his palm against your puffy clit has your mind feeling all fuzzy. your body language is the only answer he needs, though.

rafe leans in to tenderly nip at your neck, his hot mouth latching onto your slender throat as he keeps pumping his finger steadily in and out of your dripping cunt. he knows you're close when he feels your inner muscles starting to clench erratically around his digit.

"rafe," you moan onto his palm as you feel this new, strange sensation building in your tummy, pussy tingling so nicely.

heaven help him. hearing you, his stepsister, moan his name like that makes rafe's hard dick throb almost painfully against his zipper.

and then it happens. the coil in your belly suddenly snaps and you have to bite onto your lip harshly to keep yourself from screaming as you cum for the very first time, on your stepbrother's hand. rafe continues to pump his finger in and out of your spasming cunt as you ride out your climax, wanting to prolong your pleasure.

when you finally come down from your high, you're all shaky and flustered in his arms, panting heavily to try and catch your breath. he has a satisfied smirk on his lips while he slowly withdraws his slick digit from your quivering hole to bring it up to his mouth and lick it clean, savoring your taste.

"did so well for me, baby," he coos as he uncovers your mouth, gently turning your head to the side to press a kiss to your swollen, red lips.

you return it sloppily, eyes fluttering shut in the process, and you sigh contently against his mouth. he can't help but rock his hips against your ass, rubbing his hard on against you.

"did i make you feel good?" he asks between little kisses, his breathing growing uneven. you nod in response. "yeah? then it's just fair you make me feel good too, sweetheart... wanna do that f'me?"

"yes," you whisper against his lips without even thinking, feeling him smirk into the kiss.

"such a good girl," he praises.

at some point, the porn video playing on his laptop ended, so he simply closes it up and tosses it away, the device landing somewhere on his king size bed. then, he turns you both around, until you are laying on the mattress and he is on top of you.

he is quick to undo his pants and yank them down, just enough to free his raging hard on, which bounces against his abs. let me tell you this, he's big, the tip pink and fat, already leaking precum.

suddenly, realization hits you. this is your stepbrother for god's sake, are you really gonna let him fuck you?

he notices how your body tenses up, one hand reaching to stroke your plush thigh reassuringly while the other wraps around his shaft, giving it a slow pump.

"hey, baby, relax..." he whispers gently, "i'll put just the tip in, yeah? there's nothing wrong with that."

you hesitate. his strong arms slide beneath your legs to tug you closer. then his cock brushes your pussy and you whimper. how are you supposed to say 'no' ?

it's just the tip.

"mhmm, 'kay" you end up agreeing with a little nod.

rafe flashes you a lopsided smirk, his hand gripping his cock again while the free one yanks your panties aside once more. keeping eye contact, he slowly glides the fat head of his dick up and down your drenched slit, coating it thoroughly in your arousal. you shudder as his tip eventually meets your puffy clit, the gentle rubbing sending shivers down your spine.

"rafe," you whimper.

rafe's eyelids droop, a low hum of pleasure escaping his throat as he continues to slowly drag the reddened head up and down your chubby pussy lips with squelching sounds. his breathing grows heavier the longer he teasingly rolls it against your slick folds, reveling in your breathy whimpers. he feels like he's about to burst already, pre-cum steadily leaking from the tip and onto your flesh.

he can't fucking take this anymore.

with a slow, gentle thrust, he sinks his cock into your warm, slippery pussy, just the head breaching your entrance before he pauses, savoring the initial penetration. his eyes lock onto yours, his pupils blown wide with lust.

"jesus, fuck." he grunts.

your cunt starts fluttering around him. he has barely slided the first two inches in, as he promised, but he's so thick that even that feels like a tight fit. you let out a moan, which mingles with a strained groan from rafe as your velvety walls clench tightly around his swollen cockhead.

"gonna– might just nut already, shit" rafe mutters through gritted teeth, fighting the urge to just drive forward and hilt himself deep. "so goddamn tight."

your hips buck unconsciously against his, making him slip in just a tad further —which nearly makes him lose all his self-control. somehow, he manages to keep his shit together, hips rocking slowly to thrust in and out of you while his veiny hand strokes the rest of his shaft.

you're totally enthralled by the sight, liquid heat pooling in your belly while you watch him use your body for his pleasure. he looks so good, you can't believe he's real. your chest fills with pride at the knowledge that you're making this greek god feel good.

this is the fastest rafe has ever cum, the movement of his hips becoming jerky and sloppy after a few minutes as he spills his sperm inside you. he's panting heavily, sweat beading on his brow while his fist squeezes the base of his cock tightly.

you're left wanting more when he slowly pulls out, pussy stretched out and leaking white spurts of cum. he gazes down at you with a smirk, lightly tapping the head of his dick against your swollen clit, which has you writhing beneath him.

"so fuckin' gorgeous stuffed full of my cum," he whispers, his cock smearing the sticky substance all over your slit. you mewl in response. "hmm, 'm sorry for making such a mess on your pretty pussy, sweetheart, lemme clean it up, yeah?"

you blush in response when he leans forward, throwing your creamy thighs over his broad shoulders, to put his mouth onto your sex. you almost cry at the heavenly feeling, his playful tongue delving between your folds to lap up his own release. he cleans you up thoroughly, only to mess you up again right after, his spit soaking your cunt as he makes you cum again.

after tonight, you are cancelling that date, that's for sure.

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painsandconfusion · 4 months ago

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Writers, here’s your reminder that you should be doing warm-ups!

Athletes need to warm up. Musicians need to warm up. Artists need to warm up. Heck, I even have to play a few matches in video games before I get into a groove every day.

Warm-ups help you get into the right headspace, give you more control of your actions and word choice, get you comfortable in your physical setting (eg: with your keyboard, notebook, tablet, or whatever you're writing with), and spark creativity.

Even if you don’t think you have spoons to write, sit down and do a couple warm-ups. If you still don’t want to, that’s alright. But. I think you’ll be surprised how often they help break that ice.

5-15 minutes is all you need. I personally set a timer for ten minutes each time and do not stop writing until the time is up. Your warm-up can be anything at all so long as it gets you writing and starts nudging those creative juices.

Here's some common warm-ups:

Journaling. Just jot down some notes about your day. Feel free to really lean into something that you noticed. We're going for description and details -- try to avoid settling into a spiral or focusing on something negative that will upset your creativity.

Short story prompts. Type that into Pinterest and pick the most ridiculous, cliche thing you can. Write a little scene, story summary, or even a rant about why you do or don't like the prompt. Just write.

Vocab challenge. If you like a bit more critical thinking to get you in the zone, have a random vocabulary word generator spit out five or so words. Check their meanings and jot down a little story or thought that includes all five. You get more familiar with beautiful and descriptive language, and it gives you a much narrowed prompt (which is lovely if you're like me and suffer each time there's an open-ended task assigned).

Character moments. Try putting your character into a generic setting and write down almost meticulously what their thought process would be. Follow them realizing they've just stepped in mud or dreading the start of the day. Pick a mundane thing and describe them working through it. This will not only get your writing going, but it will wake up the character's voice in your head.

Ongoing storytelling. Did you know that Whinnie the Poo was A.A. Milne's warm up story? He would jot down a quick little story with those very basic characters and did so every day. Whatever came to mind. He kept writing little tidbits on the same characters and eventually it turned into a series. Having that ongoing plot with isolated scenes and simple characters can help you feel more motivated to sit down and write.

Get-to-know-you-questions. Google a list of basic first-date questions (there are a million out there) and answer one yourself. Go into specifics. Where do you most want to travel and why? Let yourself ramble until the question is fully answered.

Writer's block blues. This is a favorite of mine. If you're truly stuck, write about being stuck. Eg: 'I'm supposed to write for ten minutse, but that feels so stupid and impossible. No one is goign to read this anyway. I have no ideas and the page is so overwhelming when its blank. I used to be able to write on and on and nothing could stop me. it was like breathing. but now I have nothign and do nothing and I can't even do a stupid prompt-' Even the rambling and ranting got me writing. It made things easier. It made writing this post easier. Also -- notice the typos? Yeah, don't fix those. You're in writing mode, not editing mode when you're doing this. If you edit while you write, you're forcing yourself to stay in your executive and calculating headspace rather than falling fully into creativity and dream. Ignore the mistakes. That's for future you to handle.

I've officially rambled far too much, but I hope that helps even a little bit. Live well and write often, my friends. Best of luck to you <3

#sand speaks #writeblr #writing advice #writing warm up #writing #writers #on writing

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reit0o · 2 months ago

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sleeping with caleb (ᴗ˳ᴗ)ᶻ

—hcs about sharing a bed with caleb bc i still haven't finished his bday fic :p

☆ caleb has long accepted that he’s never getting his personal space back (good, he doesn't want it anyway). no matter what position he falls asleep in, he always wakes up at the edge of the bed, ass hanging out, with your arms and legs wrapped around him like a koala. he doesn't mind really, because he loves that you still gravitate towards him, even in your sleep.

☆ whenever you get into a petty argument, you make a point of building a pillow barrier between you. when he tries to protest, you just shoot him daggers and turn your back. you can't sleep because of his constant shuffling, but eventually, you knock down the barrier bit by bit, letting him roll over beside you and softly whisper an apology in your ear while he pulls you close. you don’t respond because you’re still upset, but you just let him hold you. and that alone is enough for him

☆ winters in skyhaven are brutal because of the high altitude. so on cold winter nights, you find yourself drawn to caleb because he's just so warm—he's basically a human radiator. when you're feeling cheeky, you like to slide your cold hands under his shirt and laugh evily whenever he flinches

☆ whenever you visit him in skyhaven, he insists on sleeping in your room together. It's not that he dislikes his room, he just prefers being in the space you've curated in his home. he loves being surrounded by things that smell like you, breathing you in while he falls asleep

☆ caleb likes to pretend he's still asleep when you think you've woken up before him. he lets you poke his cheek, blow in his face, tickle his chin, play with his hair until he’s had enough and rolls you over, pulling you into a soul-crushing hug you can’t escape

☆ his favourite time of day is the moment you fall asleep at night, and the moment just before you wake up in the morning. there’s something about your face that looks so peaceful and soft, that makes him fall in love with you all over again. he loves that you’re the first and last thing he sees every day

☆ contrary to what people might think, but caleb loves being the little spoon and being held. he doesn't do it often, but after long shifts with the fleet, there's nothing he loves more than lying on your chest, listening to your breathing while you stroke his hair. his worries melt away instantly, and he always falls asleep faster than usual—some of his best sleeps, honestly.

☆ caleb, the self-proclaimed claw machine master, is a prime example of suffering from your own success. not only does he have to share the bed with you, but with the 20+ plushies that he won and proudly bragged about. now he’s got his own personal plushie (you) snuggled up next to him, along with twenty others, silently staring into his soul

☆ caleb’s bed head is horrendous, and don't even get me started on his morning breath. you love counting all his cowlicks and taking pictures of his messy hair, holding your nose like you’re disgusted. but when he catches you laughing too long, he shuts you up by peppering your face with kisses before pulling you in for one long, deep kiss that leaves you breathless

☆ caleb is a light sleeper, so when he hears you tossing and turning, struggling to fall asleep, he gently pulls you into his chest and starts telling stories, just like he used to when you were kids. you call it childish, but the sound of his voice, soft and steady, is all it takes for sleep to quickly wash over you. and once your breathing slows down and your body relaxes, he whispers a quiet list of reasons why he loves you—one after the other, just for you

a/n- blessing you with a lot bc i couldnt stop at one. i cant be the only one that uses he's secret times as a sleep aid, his voice is so soothing i knock out instantly. short blabber bc i haven't finished half my fics i was meant to post last week. this caleb bday fic has been sitting in my drafts for over a month 🚬🚬

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bruisedboys · 3 months ago

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second nature — bob reynolds

bob tells you he’s never been kissed. you decide to change that. (post thunderbolts, spoiler free!)

bob reynolds x fem!reader, fluff, friends in love, kissing, thunderbolt!reader (or at least she is implied to live in avengers tower), 1.7k words

“You’re telling me you’ve never been kissed?”

Bob’s face is already hot, but now it burns like a furnace. You’re staring at him like he’s grown two heads.

“No,” Bob shakes his head, embarrassed under your gaze. He looks at his hands instead. “I mean… not properly.”

You must be able to tell he’s embarrassed about it, because you soften.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it like that,” you say gently. Bob didn't think you meant it like that, but it doesn’t make it any less embarrassing. You twist towards him. “I just meant … I don’t know, you’re cute. How come no one’s ever kissed you before?”

Bob goes a bit blind. He’s already nervous enough, having you in his room like this. You’re meant to be playing his new video game together, but you’d gotten talking about an old high school fling who used to play video games and was, incidentally, a terrible kisser. You’d asked Bob if he’d ever had a kiss so bad it made him want to brush his teeth five times over, and he’d blurted his secret before he’d even considered lying.

“I don’t know,” Bob mumbles. The tips of his ears burn. He wonders if he imagined you calling him cute. “Nobody’s ever liked me that much, I guess.”

There’s a beat of silence. Bob realises he’s made a pretty pathetic image of himself (as if he wasn’t enough of a loser already), and he goes to amend, but you beat him to it.

“I find that hard to believe,” you say. You put your controller down on the duvet by your hip and twist to face him. You’re sitting side by side on the end of his bed, legs dangling over the edge. It’s a big bed — it’s a big tower. Bob’s still not used to living in the Avengers old headquarters, and he doesn’t think he ever will be.

Bob swallows and finally looks up at you. You’ve got this look on your face that he can’t put a name to. The forgotten video game glowing on the TV reflects back, colouring your features different shades of blue and orange. You’re really pretty. He’s really nervous.

An awkward chuckle tumbles from his mouth, “Why’s that?” He asks.

You shrug one shoulder. “‘Cos you’re really nice. And funny. You’re handsome too, if that helps,” you say, grinning a bit now.

Bob just blinks at you, flummoxed. Is he dreaming? He doesn’t remember falling asleep.

“Are you making fun of me?” He asks eventually. He doesn’t think you ever would, but he can’t fathom that fact that maybe, you’re telling the truth.

You shake your head vehemently. “No. No, what? I’m serious, Bob, you’re a great guy,” you say earnestly. Then, like an afterthought, “I’d kiss you,” you add quietly.

Bob short circuits. He truly can’t figure out if he’s dreaming or not. Surely, he is. Surely you, the loveliest, prettiest girl he’s ever had the pleasure of knowing, doesn’t want to kiss him. He searches for something to say but all that comes out is,

“Oh.”

You grin, not teasing but getting close. “You don’t believe me?” You ask, raising an eyebrow.

Bob flounders, “I—no. I mean, yes? I… I don’t know.”

Smooth, he thinks sarcastically, then promptly shuts his mouth before he can say anything else stupid. Meanwhile, you’re leaning closer, your thigh pressing into his.

”I can prove it, if you like,” you say in a quiet voice.

Bob’s heart hammers. “Prove … what?”

It’s a stupid question, but you’ve never made him feel stupid and he doesn’t think you ever will. You just smile softly.

”Prove that I want to kiss you,” you say simply. “Can I?”

Bob doesn’t know how to respond to that. He’s not sure if he’s lightheaded from your proximity, your sweet perfume, your words, or a mix of all three. He finds himself nodding.

“Okay,” he says.

He watches in a sort of trance as your eyes flicker to his mouth and back up again.

“You sure?” You ask.

Bob’s never been more sure of anything in his life. He tries not to breathe too fast. “Yeah,” he nods.

You grin. Now Bob’s looking at your lips, the curve of your Cupid’s bow, your plump bottom lip. The tip of your tongue as it darts out to wet your top lip.

His heart thuds in his chest.

“Alright,” you say. “Shut your eyes, handsome.”

Bob slams his eyes shut and stays very still. He’s so nervous he can feel it in his bones, a warm sort of buzzing deep in his limbs. It’s unfamiliar and strange, but not uncomfortable. He feels you moving closer, and then feels your hand on his shoulder. Jolts of electricity go down his arm.

“You ready?” You ask in a whisper.

You’re so close now Bob can feel your breath on his lips when you speak. Meanwhile, he can’t speak, so he just tilts his chin up in response.

You take the hint. You press your lips to his and kiss him. Bob forgets how to think — your lips are warm, your kiss achingly soft. He doesn’t know what to do with himself but let himself be kissed, his heart pounding so hard now he’s sure you can hear it. You kiss him for longer than he’s expecting, your thumb pressing into the fleshy part of his shoulder. When you pull away, he wants more.

“How was that?” You whisper. You’re very, very close, so close Bob could count your eyelashes if he wanted to. The glow of the TV reflects warm orange in your eyes.

“Not a real kiss,” Bob murmurs. Your kissing has left him feeling braver than usual.

Your eyes glint and you grin, all Cheshire Cat-like. “I was just warming you up,” you say a little defensively. “You want to go again?”

Bob nods. His nose bumps yours. “Please.”

You kiss him again. You’re more sure this time, warmer, like you were waiting for him to ask for more. Your hand migrates to the very top of his back, your arm caging his shoulder as you push up into the kiss. Bob finds himself kissing back, though he doesn’t really know how, he’s just following your lead. Your thigh starts to squash his and he doesn’t care, ‘cos you taste like butter popcorn and something sweet, and you’re kissing him like you’ve wanted to do this about as long as he has.

You move closer, your kisses getting surer, and Bob’s hand starts to move of its own accord, an invisible thread tugging it towards your waist. His thumb skips over your sweater, and his hand aches with want, but he hesitates.

You break away from the kiss.

“You can touch me,” you murmur with a lopsided grin. “Go on.”

You reach down and take his hand in yours, pressing it to your waist. Bob swallows. You’re so warm, and his hand fits perfectly to the dip of your waist, his pinky finger sliding over the bump of your hip. If he’d known touching you would be like this, he’d have done it much earlier.

“S’that okay?” He asks you.

You nod. “Yeah. You can touch my face, too, if you want. Do you wanna try kissing me now?”

Bob does want to, very badly, but he’s afraid he’ll mess it up. “I don't know how,” he says honestly, past caring how pathetic he sounds.

You shrug. “That’s okay,” you say gently. Your hand returns to his shoulder and you push your palm up towards his neck. You lean close until your noses almost touch. “Just do what I did, okay? I’ll help you.”

You let your eyes fall shut. Bob, his heart rampant with nerves all over again, takes that as his sign and moves forward to slot his mouth with yours. It’s messy — his nose squashes into yours, and he’s not sure whether to part his lips or not. His decision gets made for him when your lips part very slightly under the pressure of his kiss.

“That’s good,” you murmur against his lips, nodding encouragingly. “Good job.”

You grab his neck and tug yourself closer. Your mouth is hot, your hand greedy at the nape of his neck. Bob remembers what you said before, and raises his free hand to very gently cup your jaw. You’re abnormally warm under his touch, and when he presses his palm to your neck, he can feel your pulse going almost as fast as his.

He pulls away from you an inch, suddenly concerned. “Are you okay?” He asks, frowning. “Your pulse is a riot.”

He must sound as clueless as he feels, because you give a breathless laugh.

“You’re making me nervous,” you say shyly.

Bob blinks. “Oh,” he says. He didn't know he had the capability to make you nervous.

You giggle breathlessly, lips all swollen and dark pink, and Bob decides he’s in love with you right then and there.

”Yeah, oh,” you echo, smiling like a fool. “Kiss me again, will you?”

Bob doesn’t need to be asked twice. His hand roves around to the small of your back and he kisses you again, and sure, it’s not perfect, but you make up for it by kissing him back so ardently that it’s a wonder Bob doesn’t pass out. Your hand pushes up into his hair, greedy as anything, and now he’s sure he’s gonna pass out. You tug at the strands of hair at the very nape of his neck and Bob makes a sound he can’t help. He whimpers.

He’s about to die of embarrassment when he feels you smile against his lips.

“Feels nice?” You ask, pulling back, but not before giving him a few short kisses.

”Sorry,” Bob says back. He’s almost certain he’s steaming at the ears right now.

You shake your head. “Nothing to be sorry for, handsome,” you kiss the side of his mouth, your fingers curling into his hair like it’s second nature. “You want me to keep going?”

Bob’s not sure he could handle it, but he nods anyway. If the others find him passed out or dead in his own bedroom in the morning, he’s blaming it on you.

thank you for reading! please consider reblogging if you enjoyed 🤍

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all-my-love-for-harry · 29 days ago

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The Pilot’s Private Song.

pairing; Jake Seresin x wife!reader

summary; How each member of the Dagger Squad found out Jake's been married for over a decade.

word count; 3.6k

warnings: nothing. established relationship, secret/private marriage, found family, fluff, all good stuff.

a/n; i am a SUCKER for a secret relationship trope. this concept is so cute i want to write a hundred different pieces about it. also, if you're reading my jake series, next part should be up tomorrow :))

masterlist

A year after the Uranium mission, the aviators once known as the Dagger Squad were summoned back to Miramar. Expecting another top-secret assignment, they were instead offered something unexpected: a chance to stay on at Top Gun indefinitely. Their answer was almost immediate—a resounding yes, with an enthusiastic "hell yes" from Fanboy.

But when they arrived, one thing was clear: Jake hadn't accepted the offer yet.

"Can't believe Hangman's playing hard to get with Admiral Simpson," Phoenix muttered, eyeing the empty spot where he should’ve been.

"Bet that promotion to Lieutenant Commander already went to his head," Rooster quipped.

"If you’re talking about Jake, he’s coming," Maverick said. "He just asked to report in on Monday."

He left the room without another word. The Daggers exchanged looks, then shrugged. It was Jake, after all—he probably just wanted to make an entrance, with nothing but his damn ego walking through the door first.

When Monday rolled around, he strolled in with that trademark smirk and a swagger only he could pull off. Annoying? Absolutely. Eye-roll inducing? Without question. Missed? More than anyone was willing to admit.

“Be honest—did you tear up a little when you thought I wasn’t coming back?”

Bob and Phoenix.

Bob had a thing for those absurdly healthy smoothies from a place called Erewhon. Overpriced, organic, and influencer-approved—it was his guilty pleasure. Naturally, it wasn’t long before he dragged his favorite front-seater into it.

“What the hell is a Hailey Bieber Strawberry Glaze Skin Smoothie, and why does it cost twenty bucks?”

The line was a nightmare—packed with people who all looked like they drove Teslas, had just come from Pilates, or were on their way to pitch a startup to their fiancée’s hedge fund bros.

Phoenix couldn’t quite figure out what Bob saw in these overpriced green sludge drinks, but she was usually down to try something new, even if her wallet cried a little every time.

“I don’t really get the hype either, but my husband’s obsessed,” You said with a shrug. “If it’s your first time, I’d go with something simple—maybe the pitaya, or the post-workout one is solid too. You look like you work out.”

They startled slightly when you turned around, smiling and introducing yourself after your unsolicited smoothie rant.

“I’ll take your advice—I’m Natasha,” Phoenix said, shaking your hand. It was only then that you noticed the massive emerald-cut ring on her finger, catching the light like it knew it was expensive. Bob followed with a shy introduction, a soft blush creeping into his cheeks.

Sticking to your word, you went ahead and ordered the absurdly named Hailey Bieber Strawberry Glaze Skin Smoothie, along with a few other things. Once you paid, you turned back to them with a grin.

“If you’re free, my husband’s just parking the car—want to sit and chat for a bit?”

“Oh, we’d love to,” Phoenix said, “but we’re running late for a few apartment showings—this line took forever. But we should exchange numbers, maybe grab lunch sometime?”

“I’d love that! We actually just moved here, so it’d be nice to make some friends.” Your smile didn’t waver; wide, bright, and straight out of a movie scene.

After saying your goodbyes, you grabbed your order and stepped out of the line, letting them move forward. With one last wave—bright, effortless—you pushed through the door and disappeared into the sunlight.

Phoenix turned back to the cashier, halfway through her order, when her gaze drifted to the large front window—and froze.

"Holy shit."

Bob instinctively looked where she was staring, and his brows shot up so high they nearly vanished into his hairline.

Jake Seresin was outside, casually leaning against a matte black Jeep Wrangler like he belonged in a magazine ad. Arms crossed, aviators in place, his flight jacket unzipped just enough to hint at the crisp white tee underneath. That usual cocky smirk was on his face—or at least, they thought it was.

But it wasn’t a smirk.

It was a smile—wide, open, and so bright it looked like it had cracked straight through his usual armor. Jake Seresin was glowing. Radiant. Practically lit from within.

And then they saw why.

You stepped out into the sunlight, heading straight for him, holding that ridiculous Hailey Bieber smoothie like it was a gold medal. Jake’s face lit up even more. He threw his head back and laughed, his whole body moving with it—unrestrained, joyful, real.

Then he reached for you, pulling you into his arms with the ease of someone who’d done it a thousand times. One hand at your waist, the other settling on the small of your back, fitting you against him like you belonged there.

Phoenix’s jaw dropped slightly. Bob just stared.

Jake lifted his sunglasses, pushing them up onto his head, and looked down at you like you hung the stars. The softest expression they had ever seen on his face—like the man didn’t know how to look away. You said something that made him laugh again, and you handed him the smoothie like it was some inside joke.

They must have been staring too long. Jake’s head turned slightly—just enough to catch them in the reflection.

His eyes found theirs through the glass. For a split second, something flickered across his face.

Surprise. Panic. Maybe even guilt. Just enough to register—before he shoved it back down and straightened up, as if nothing had happened.

He opened your door and helped you in, careful not to jostle the armful of overpriced smoothies and whatever else you’d picked up. Then he turned back toward the window, his eyes meeting theirs once more.

A subtle nod. Barely there. But it carried weight—an unspoken request.

Not for secrecy exactly, but something quieter. A plea to let it be. To pretend they hadn’t just seen past Hangman… and caught a glimpse of Jake.

Phoenix and Bob exchanged a long look, sipping their drinks in stunned silence as they tried to process what they’d just witnessed. It was easy to box Jake in as the poster boy for cockiness—the walking embodiment of swagger and ego—but deep down, they’d always suspected there was more.

More to him than the sharp one-liners and smug grins. More than the call sign.

And now, they’d seen it.

Guess this was it.

The next day, Jake showed up with his usual swagger, every step as self-assured as ever. But his eyes—sharp, watchful—carried a flicker of guardedness. It was subtle, the kind of thing only Phoenix and Bob would pick up on.

“Hey, Strawberry Glaze,” Phoenix said casually.

She could’ve let it slide—pretended like nothing had happened—but she couldn’t resist poking at him just a little. Jake shot her a look sharp enough to make most people flinch.

She just laughed.

The words had been soft, low enough that no one else could hear. And the smile she gave him—amused, knowing, a little smug—said it all:

Your secret’s safe with me.

2. Bradley.

Bradley hated shopping. He wasn’t good at it—never had been. He took forever to decide what he liked, forgot to write down what he actually needed, and always left the store with random things and none of the essentials.

This time, though, he had a mission: crockery. At the moment, he owned exactly two plates and three mismatched forks. And if he was serious about settling down here, it was probably time to get his shit together.

Normally, he’d drag Nat along—not because she was a woman and supposedly knew about this stuff, but because she was mean enough to keep him on task. She had no patience for his two-hour deep dives in the mug aisle, where he’d examine every single one before deciding he didn’t like any of them.

But Nat had bailed on him, leaving him to fend for himself. Now he was aimlessly wandering the store, eyeing every dinnerware set like it might reveal the meaning of life, tossing random items into the trolley with no real plan—just vibes and mild confusion.

Ever the gossip, Bradley’s ears perked up at the sound of a laugh he knew far too well.

Hangman.

“Darlin’, if you put one more candle in the cart, I’m gonna start thinking you’re trying to burn the house down.”

“But Jake, smell this one—it’s amazing. And it says limited edition, so they won’t have it next time,” you replied, dropping not one, but two candles into the cart.

Bradley watched, stunned, as Jake didn’t even argue. He just shook his head with a helpless smile and kept pushing the cart like a man who knew resistance was pointless.

“I also saw this gorgeous botanical garden plate set online—we have to get it.”

“Whatever you want, doll,” Jake said, voice low and warm as he pressed a kiss to your temple and gave your hip a casual, affectionate tap.

Bradley was pretty sure his jaw hit the floor. He wasn’t stupid—and he definitely wasn’t blind. He saw the massive rock on your finger and the way Jake looked at you like you hung the stars.

Hangman, married?

The motherfucker was married.

He could hardly believe what he was seeing.

Bradley had always assumed Jake Seresin was the type who’d never settle down—too cocky, too stubborn, too Hangman. Honestly, he’d half-expected the guy to grow old alone, flirting with waitresses and arguing with air traffic control until the bitter end. Harsh? Maybe. But Jake had never given them any reason to believe otherwise.

Yet here he was—married, domesticated, and currently letting his wife toss candles and dinner plates into the cart like she owned the place. And judging by the look on his face, she did.

The man Bradley was low-key stalking from behind a shelf of overpriced wine glasses wasn’t the Hangman he knew from the skies. This wasn’t the ruthless, lone-wolf aviator who treated teamwork like a contagious disease and would rather eat glass than back down in a briefing.

No—this Jake looked… soft. Happy. In love.

And it was messing with everything Bradley thought he knew.

He ducked behind the endcap as you turned down the next aisle, nearly knocking over a pyramid of mason jars in the process. This wasn’t eavesdropping, he told himself—it was reconnaissance. For team cohesion. For morale. For… reasons.

Jake Seresin, hopeless romantic and candle mule, was not something Bradley had mentally prepared for.

He peeked around the corner again just in time to see Jake reach for a throw blanket you were eyeing. Without hesitation, he tossed it into the cart. “Matches the couch, right?” he said.

“Exactly,” you beamed, and Bradley swore the corners of Jake’s mouth lifted in something dangerously close to a fond sigh.

Who was this man?

Bradley had spent years knowing Jake as a walking testosterone complex with aviators and a call sign, someone who’d charm the hell out of a bartender and then ghost her before the first date. The idea that this man—this patient, domesticated, grocery-hauling version of Jake—existed at all was blowing his mind.

And worse? He looked good at it. Like he’d been waiting his whole life to play husband in a West Elm ad.

Bradley finally backed away from the aisle, muttering to himself, “I need to go look at forks before I lose my grip on reality.”

Still, as he wandered toward the kitchen section, a weird feeling settled in his chest—part disbelief, part amusement… and maybe a little bit of envy. Not the kind that stings, exactly, but the kind that pokes at something you didn’t realize was hollow.

Because despite all his jokes, all his gripes about shopping and settling down, maybe there was a tiny part of him that wouldn’t mind someone tossing limited-edition candles in his cart, either.

But first, he really needed more than three forks.

3. Payback and Fanboy.

It was just past 7 a.m. when Fanboy and Payback jogged down the beach trail, sneakers thudding lightly against the packed sand. The sun had barely risen, casting a warm, golden glow over the shoreline, and the waves rolled in slow and steady, their rhythm soft and soothing beneath the buzz of gulls overhead.

It was the kind of morning that made you forget how exhausting the week had been.

“If Mav makes us watch one more hour of grainy debrief footage, I’m walking into the ocean,” Fanboy grumbled between breaths, arms swinging loose at his sides.

“You say that, but last time he caught you checking your phone, he added another hour to the session,” Payback replied, grinning.

“I’m just saying—death by drowning would be less painful than another slideshow.”

They rounded a gentle bend in the trail, where the dunes opened up to a more secluded stretch of beach. The tide had pulled back, leaving wide, smooth patches of sand dotted with seashells and a few early footprints.

Payback slowed, frowning. “Wait. Who’s already out here?”

A large cream-colored blanket had been spread beneath a sun-bleached lifeguard stand. A wicker picnic basket sat off to one side, its lid open and lined with fabric. There were iced coffees, a brown paper bag, a small vase of wildflowers—wildflowers, at the beach—and two people.

One of them crouched near the cooler, pulling out what looked like a container of fruit. The other approached barefoot, holding two drinks, sleeves of a linen shirt rolled up to his elbows, light catching in his sandy hair.

Fanboy’s eyes narrowed. “Hold on a second…”

The barefoot man looked up—and grinned.

Jake Seresin.

Hangman.

Golden-boy aviator, squadroom shit-talker, human ego parade.

Except… something was different.

He stepped forward, took one of the iced coffees from your hand with a quiet thank-you, then leaned in and kissed your temple with the kind of easy, familiar affection that made both Fanboy and Payback freeze mid-stride.

Jake said something with a lazy smile and you laughed, the kind of laugh that came from your belly—bright, genuine, totally unfiltered. Then you plopped down on the blanket, legs curled underneath you, pulling a croissant from the paper bag as if you’d done this a hundred times.

And maybe you had.

Because Jake didn’t hesitate. He shrugged out of his jacket and laid it behind you, just in case the blanket wasn’t enough cushion. Then he sank down beside you, stretching his legs long across the sand and casually slipping one arm around your waist.

Payback immediately ducked behind a nearby dune like he’d just witnessed a war crime. “Tell me I’m not seeing this.”

Fanboy crouched next to him, equally stunned. “What the hell is happening right now?”

Jake leaned back slightly, watching you unwrap something else—probably another baked good—and tilted his head, resting his chin lightly on your shoulder. You fed him a bite without even looking, and he accepted it like it was second nature. Then he reached up and tucked a loose strand of your hair behind your ear.

“I’m in shock,” Fanboy whispered. “He just tucked her hair behind her ear. That’s a boyfriend move.”

“That’s not a boyfriend move,” Payback muttered. “That’s a married guy move.”

Fanboy squinted. “Wait—zoom in. Look at her hand.”

A glint of metal caught the sunlight as you reached for your coffee. Simple but elegant. An emerald-cut diamond, gold band. The kind of ring that said permanence. The kind of ring that didn’t come off easily.

“Oh my God,” Payback breathed. “He’s married.”

Jake leaned back again, one hand lazily tracing circles along your knee while you showed him something on your phone. Whatever it was made him chuckle low in his chest, and he leaned in to kiss your cheek before setting the coffee down in the sand.

Fanboy was frozen, processing. “So Hangman—Hangman—sneaks off on weekends for romantic beach picnics… with his wife.”

“And we never knew.”

“I thought he lived off protein bars and sheer arrogance.”

“Same.”

You pulled something else from the basket—what looked like a floral plate set, one of those whimsical ones you’d find in a lifestyle magazine. Jake took it from you with care, set it between you, then reached for the wildflowers, adjusting the little vase so it wouldn’t tip over.

Fanboy stared. “He brought flowers.”

Payback shook his head. “He packed a goddamn centerpiece.”

They both crouched lower behind the dune, as if Jake might sense them. The only thing louder than the waves at that moment was the sound of their worldviews shattering.

Fanboy finally whispered, “Okay, but like… how dare he be this soft and not tell us?”

“We’re his squadmates. This is betrayal.”

“We were supposed to know before the blanket picnics started. There’s an order to these things.”

“I mean—what’s next? He gets a dog and starts doing couples yoga?”

Fanboy paused. “He would be good at couples yoga.”

Jake leaned back, hands behind his head, face turned up to the morning sun as you laid your head on his chest, sipping your drink and humming along to some song playing quietly from a speaker. You looked perfectly at ease, like this was your favorite part of the week.

Like he was.

“Okay,” Payback muttered. “We can’t tell anyone.”

“Agreed.”

“But also,” Fanboy added, eyes still wide, “we are absolutely never letting him live this down.”

“Obviously.”

They finally stood, dusting off their legs, still stunned but grinning. One last glance over their shoulders showed Jake pressing a kiss to the top of your head, like you were the only person on earth that mattered.

Hangman hadn’t just settled down.

He’d crash-landed into love, and apparently? He was thriving.

4. Javy (ten years ago)

The bar was thick with smoke and the smell of spilled beer, its low-ceilinged walls pulsating with neon light and the steady beat of a bass-heavy pop song. The air was warm and sticky, full of laughter, shouting, and the occasional off-key karaoke warble daring to take the stage. Jake leaned casually against the back wall, arms crossed, eyes never leaving the corner where you and your friends were holding court.

You were the heart of the group—laughing without restraint, glass in hand, your voice rising clear and confident above the din. Your friends egged each other on to the microphone, but you owned the room like it was yours, moving effortlessly through the crowd, radiating that kind of joy that was impossible not to notice. Jake’s gaze softened as he watched you—like you were a secret he had stumbled upon, the kind of thing you didn’t want to shout about but couldn’t stop looking at.

Javy, never one to let an opportunity for teasing pass, nudged Jake sharply. “You been staring at her all night, man. You planning to say something or just get a reputation as the creepy aviator?”

Jake barely glanced at him. “I’m just… watching.”

Javy smirked, shifting on his feet. “Right. Watching. She’s having fun—seems like she owns this place. You gonna sing or what? Or just keep mooning over her?”

Jake’s jaw tightened, a flicker of something unreadable crossing his face. “I don’t sing.”

“Everyone sings at karaoke night. Even you.”

Before Jake could respond, you stood with your friend, grabbing the microphone like it was a lifeline. The opening notes of a popular pop song spilled through the speakers, and suddenly, the bar seemed to hush just enough to let your voice soar.

You sang with an easy confidence, playful yet sincere, the kind of performance that made people stop talking and just listen. Jake felt his breath hitch—the way you smiled at the crowd, the way you closed your eyes briefly on the high notes—it was like watching sunlight break through storm clouds.

Javy elbowed him hard. “Dude, you look like you’re about to pop the question right here, right now.”

Jake shot him a sharp look. “I just met my wife.”

The words slipped out quieter than intended, but Javy caught them all the same and grinned wider, clearly not buying it.

After your song ended, the room erupted into applause. You laughed, cheeks flushed, and caught Jake’s eyes from across the room. It was a brief glance, but electric—like a door quietly opening.

Jake made his way over, weaving through the small crowd until he was standing right beside you. “Hey,” he said, voice low and just above the music.

You smiled, a little breathless. “Hey.”

Jake nodded toward the microphone stand. “That was… impressive.”

You shrugged, flicking your hair back. “Well, I had a good duet partner.” You glanced at your friend and winked. “But it’s nice to have an audience.”

Jake laughed softly, eyes never leaving yours. “So, what’s your name?” You offered it to him, along with your hand to shake. “Jake,” he replied, taking it. His grip was firm but gentle, like he was trying to make sure you felt it. “And I’m supposed to be focused on training missions, but I can’t stop watching you.”

You raised an eyebrow, amused. “Is that so? What’s more distracting—the music or me?”

He smiled, just a little crooked. “Definitely you.”

You laughed, and the sound was like a spark in the dim bar light. For a moment, it was just the two of you—no crowd, no noise, just the hum of a song fading out and the start of something new.

Javy sidled up, grinning. “I’ll leave you lovebirds to it. But remember, Jake, if you break her heart, I’m coming for you.”

Jake’s grin turned serious. “I don’t plan on breaking anything.”

You looked up at him, feeling a flutter you hadn’t expected. “Good.”

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