#their second New Year's together was spent at home by the fire.

[ludi-ling]

how did 52 pickup remy and anna celebrate their first new years together?

They totally went to the countdown and fireworks display in London, but bailed out early because it was too crowded and too cold. They spent the rest of the night at the Ritz. Where they had lots of champagne and concentrated on keeping each other warm.

😉

[eddiesxangel]

My Little Bunny | Older!Eddie x Reader

For Evie, @oneforthemunny prompt for her writing challenge. “based off the lore that older!eddie gets slutty on tequila lol. gimme tequila eddie. make it slutty. the og prompt was at the beach for a wedding of a cousin, if you’d like to follow that, but if not- where does it happen? how do you think it would go? don’t spare a single detail please!!!!” I hope I did your man justice 😘 happy one year!

Happy new year! Here is some smut to start the year off right.

This is pure filth, don’t look at me🫣

Cw: age gap, oral, p in v, ass play, anal. Minors DNI. Only slightly proofread so if you see a spelling mistake… no you didn’t 😤

“Bunnnnnnnnnnnnnny” Eddie slurred. The man could not handle his liquor. But neither could you.

After what happened and the wedding, Eddie swore he wouldn’t drink tequila for a very long time. However, tonight was special. Tonight, the baby was with your parents, and Bri was off with your sister for the evening. It was just you. And Eddie. Alone for the first time in what felt like years. Eddie was wining and dining with you tonight.

You convinced him to go to a bar to dance. Well, you danced, he watched. He watched your body; he loved the new curves you got from bringing Delilah into the world. You returned to the bar where he was sitting and ordered four tequila shots. Eddie had been nursing a beer all night; he was shocked at your drink of choice.

“Bunny you know what happens when I drink this…” giving you a stern look.

“Maybe I wanna get a little freaky tonight…. It’s been so long” you run your hands up and down his chest.

“I don’t know”

“What if I gave you an insensitive?”

“And what would that be?”

“I want you to fuck my ass tonight” you whispered against your husband’s ear.

“Bunnnnnnnnnnnnnny” Eddie slured again as you both stumbled into your home.

“Fuck I need you. I need your tight ass so bad”

You can’t keep your hands off one another. Your lips are attached to his neck, and your hands run up and down his body. You barely make it through the front door before your hands are trying to get down his pants.

Somehow, you make it to the bedroom. You were stripping your man with each step. Something inside of you was burning, and Eddie was the only thing to put it out. A visceral ache in your core, screaming at you to do something about it.

“I need you, I need you so bad,” you whined because he wasn’t moving fast enough. You were already on the bed waiting for him.

Eddie giggled as he tried to unbutton his dress shirt, but it didn’t seem to work.

“Come here,” Eddie coxed you closer to him. “I need your help.”

“Arms up,” your mom instincts kicked in, and you pulled off Eddie’s shirt in one swift motion.

Without hesitation, you worked on his pants the second your fingertips left the fabric of his shirt. Your nimble fingers worked his belt, button, and zipper, and finally, why you craved most was released before you.

"God, you're so hot! How did I land a wife so fucking hot?"

You let Eddie cup your face, kissing you as he pushes you back onto the bed. His tongue parted your lips, and you gladly let him take charge.

It was needy and messy but so deliciously delightful. You missed your hundreds touch. You’d been so busy being a new mom, and Eddie tried picking up extra shifts to make a little more cash so you could take a nice vacation this summer. You hardly spent time together. You needed this. He needed this. The fire in his belly was also burning the second you mentioned your perfect tight little hole wanting to be stretched and pounded by his cock.

“You gonna be my good little bunny?” Eddie spoke as he slinked down your body so his face was level with your throbbing pussy.

“Yes!” You had zero patients, and he thought it was cute.

“Well then... You gotta get nice and wet, f’me”

“Already ammmmm” you wined again. Why was he prolonging this?

“Oh is she? I guess I’ll just have to see for myself.” Eddie didn’t spare another second. His hands wrenched your legs open, pressing them as far as they could reach.

You let out a moan of pleasure when his mouth finally attached to your lower lips.

Eddie needed to taste you. He usually didn’t do this often, but tonight you deserved to be thoroughly fucked. He needed to feel you cumming in his mouth, to taste you, to feel you. His eyes rolled back into his head as he moaned into your pussy.

“Looks like you were right, baby bunny, and you taste so good. Just can’t get enough,” Eddie dove back in, flicking and licking at your clit. Your body was so reactive to him tonight. Let’s thank the tequila because it didn’t take much to make you cum from his mouth.

“Baby, I’m so close”

“Already? But I just started playing with her” he pouted.

“Yes! P-please.” You stuttered.

“You wanna cum? You going to cum for me?”

Unexpectedly, Eddie replaced his mouth with his finger just as you were on the brink. Before you could say anything, his finger was inside your wet fold, collecting all of your slick, and was quickly replaced by his mouth again.

You could feel the warmth building back up. Eddie continued to work your clit. All the while, his finger, drenched with your own natural lube, was starting to tease your other hole.

“Oh my god,” you moan as his finger slowly makes its way inside.

“You okay?”

“Don’t stop!” You begged as your first orgasm washes through you.

“Fuck, your tight little ass is sucking me in so good,” Eddie continues to finger you as you ride out your orgasm.

“Good bunny. Turn around, ass up, show me what’s mine.”

You quickly obeyed his orders and flipped around so you could show him what he wanted. You loved when he got possessive.

“Tell me what you want bunny”

“You.”

“Nu-uh,” Eddie tutted. “Be more specific.”

“Edddiiiieee, please, I need you.”

Eddie couldn’t believe your extra brattiness tonight.

“No,” a sharp slap filled the room and your ass stung. “Tell me what you need, Bunny,” he spoke, and he massaged the area he slapped. Soothing your skin.

“Your tongue… and your fingers,” you pant.

“Good little bunny,” he smirked. “You want me to tongue fuck your tight little hole? Get you nice and ready for me?”

“Yes,” you sigh as you arch your back more so Eddie can see more of you.

“Fuck bunny, you’re perfect.” Eddie gripped each cheek, spreading you open before dipping his head down.

When you felt his tongue make contact with your hole, you cried out again. You were revelling in the fact you were in an empty house. You could be as loud as you wanted.

“Mmmmmm, you taste so good, Bunny,” he moaned into you.

“Eddie!”

“Yes, Bunny?”

“More!”

“More what?”

“Please fuck my pussy”

“You’re such a good little slut for me. Good girl telling me what you want…. But is that all you want?” God, he was so condescending.

You let out an irritated huff. “Eddie, please,” you begged as you wiggled your ass in the air to entice him.

“You need to behave, little bunny, or else you’re not going to get what you want.” Eddie’s hands gripped your cheeks tighter.

“I’m sorry, I just need you so badly baby”

“Ohhh, I like that; tell me more.”

“I need you so bad! I’m aching for you. Please.”

“That’s my good girl.

Eddie lined up his cock with your wanton hole and slowly stretched you out.

“Thank you.” You sighed with relief.

His thick long cock stretched out your walls. You couldn’t help yourself as you rocked your body back and forth onto his cock.

“That’s it, bunny. Show me what you really can do” he slapped your ass again. You rocked your knees and hips back onto Eddie’s cock as he stood at the edge of your shared bed.

“Mmmmmm”

“More!”

You felt a wad of spit drip down your ass, lower and lower, until Eddie’s fingers found it and rimmed your picked hole. As you rocked your body against Eddie’s cock he dipped in his single digit, adding another and another until you stretched out.

Your body is screaming; Eddie was making you feel so good.

“Ok, bunny, you’re going to ride me, bounce on this cock and show me how good of a Bunny you are.”

“Yes, please. Need you.”

Eddie pulled out so he could get underneath you, but not before he reached the nightstand to pull out the lube you had stashed away for nights like these.

“You ready for me, baby?” He asked as he covered his cock in the slippery substance.

“Yes,” you swung your leg around his hips, aligning yourself with his hard cock that lay on his stomach.

“My beautiful girl,” he whispered as he guided your hips down onto him.

“Oh fuck” you both grit out in unison.

You watched as Eddie glazed over with lust.

“Fucking so good. Damn, tight.” Eddie gritted through his teeth.

He planted his feet on the mattress to ground himself. His hips started thrusting up into you, matching your strokes.

“Fuck fuck fuck I love the way you take my cock. Tell me how much you love this cock.”

“I love it,” you panted as you bounced on his cock. You felt so full, so complete. So ready for his cock to fill you.

“Baby, touch me,” you commanded.

Eddie dipped his head to take a nipple in his mouth as his hand found your pussy, finding your clit. A rush of pleasure ran through your body as his mouth and hands explored your body.

“Oh baby,” you threw your head back with pleasure.

“How much do you want it, baby bunny?”

“I want it so bad!”

“What do you want?”

“Your cum”

“Sucha little slut, want me to fill your ass with my cum?”

“Yes!”

Eddie’s hand never stopped working your clit. You could feel the pleasure build and build. Your legs were burning, but it was in measure to how Eddie was making you feel.

“You’re close baby I can feel you clenching down on me so tight.” He squeezed his eyes shut with pleasure.

“Cum for me, baby, cum for me, then I’ll fill you up so good you’ll be leaking for days. Do you want that? To feel my cum dripping out of you tomorrow?”

“Fuck. Eddie!” You cried out as your body clenched around his cock, cumming hard.

"Eddie continued to pound into your ass until he unloaded up into you, filling you up just like you begged him to do.

Your body went limp and your soar muscles rested as you lay your weight fully on your husband.

"Remind me again. Why don't I do tequila?" Eddie laughed as his brain released serotonin. "That was amazing." He kissed the top of your head.

"Remember that question tomorrow, big boy." You giggled, and Eddie finally pulled out of you.

"Come on, Bunny, let's get you cleaned up. " Even in his drunken state, he still needed to take care of you.

"Can't move. You fucked me too well." you sighed.

"I think you did most of the work Bun, you fucked me."

"I did, didn't I?" You smile at the realization.

"Don't get cocky now" He slapped your ass, and you jumped up out of bed with Eddie following close behind you.

[sehnsuchts-trunken]

Great Balls Of Fire

Bradley Bradshaw x fem!reader 9k words (ik. i did it again. im sorry)

summary: It’s been four months since you last saw Bradley Bradshaw. Today's the day he finally comes back from his mission and you have more than one ace up your sleeve to surprise him with.

a/n: smut ahead. 18+ im serious theres smut theres a lot of smut. okay. as usual i will now list everything you may have to look out for

fancy ass lingerie, oral sex fem!receiving, unprotected sex (dont be like them, just know theyre in a committed relationship theyve had the talk and all), a lot of begging, hair pulling, good girl's because yes, in general again bradley is a talker, otherwise that's it

top gun masterlist

It had been so long. It had been too long.

With the sun beating down hard on the pavement of the parking lot, the sunglasses on your nose doing their hardest to protect your eyes from the worst of the light, the sound of your heels clicking against solid ground as you took a few steps into the shade of the tree next to Bradley's Bronco. You had been waiting for ten minutes now, checking your phone what seemed like every five seconds, too nervous to actually pay attention to it but too nervous to keep calm either.

You had been so scared you would crash into a grandma on the way over here that you had honestly considered taking your own car instead of the Bronco - but Bradley had trusted you with it, had trusted you to keep his lady running, you, even though he never let anyone else as much as touch the steering wheel, and you would be damned if you didn't pick him up in it.

You hadn't seen him in four months. Four months.

You had been by yourself, had been on your own, had been lonely for four fucking months.

But today was the day you would see him again. Today was the day his oh-so-secret mission would finally, truly come to an end, the day that you would finally, truly see him again. Not over some low-quality video call in the middle of the night, with only your kitchen lights on in the background and your mind hazy and tired because he was nine hours ahead of you and seemed to be at the other end of the world - no, today you would finally, finally, finally see him in the flesh.

You'd been anticipating this moment for the past four months.

So this had to be perfect.

This would be perfect.

You had done everything possible to make this the most perfect day of his goddamn life. You had spent the last four months moving things from the old apartment to the new house - those things that you and him hadn't already moved anyway - and the past week, you'd been cleaning, decorating, anticipating.

He had told you so often how much he missed you. How much he wished he had been there for you, to help you pack the things, to help you take them apart and put them back together, to do more than just the paperwork and set up the bed and the couch.

But he couldn't. And now you were bubbling with nervous excitement, with the joy of sharing all of it with him, to show him the desk you'd put up in the bedroom, the pillows you'd bought for the couch, the paintings you'd hung up on the walls, the kitchen table you'd replaced, the kitchen tiles you'd painted. To show him how much better this new home was than the old apartment had been (even though you'd been very happy there for the past four years as well).

And Bradley would love it. You were sure of that.

You just wanted him to see it so desperately.

You looked up as another car approached - it wasn't Bradley, you knew that, Bradley would come out of that door opposite you, not out of a car, but... There was still some tiny little sliver of hope, the same way there had been every single goddamn time someone had rung your doorbell. It had only ever been the postman or your food.

The car stopped next to you. You watched the engine being turned off and the driver get out because, well, what else was there to do except nervously shift your weight from one leg onto the other and go insane?

So you watched the stranger hop out of their car, nodded politely at them and then refocused your attention on the tips of your sandals. At least you weren't the only one waiting here anymore.

You got out your phone again, checked the time (it'd been a minute and a half since you'd last looked at it) and let out a sigh.

It wasn't that Bradley was late. There wasn't really a "late" anyway, he'd only been able to give you a vague time he'd arrive on, but still. You'd been buzzing with nervous energy for over a week.

You took a deep breath to steady yourself, wiped your sweaty palms off on the sundress you'd put on - the tiny yellow sundress that Bradley had picked out for you on your birthday last year. The tiny yellow sundress that hid the sinful white lingerie under it just perfectly. The sinful white lingerie that you had bought for this very moment.

Bradley would go feral for it, you knew that. He loved white. You thought it was because it looked innocent, chaste. Like something untainted, something waiting to be ruined. Not that you minded. One day, he had promised himself, he would admit to you that it was because it looked like something you would wear on your wedding night.

But either way, you had gone shopping for the perfect set of lingerie and you were more than happy with your final choice.

Bradley could unwrap you like a present. You were desperately hoping he would unwrap you like a present.

You had spent the last four months not doing anything other than hoping. Imagining. Remembering.

So you weren't surprised that you felt like you'd soaked through those pretty (and expensive) panties already.

Your breath hitched. You shifted your weight again.

Bradley would carry you in his big, strong arms over the doorstep, would push you against the wall, would take everything he wanted from you and give everything you needed - he'd pull your dress right off and, at the sight of your lingerie, would fuck you raw.

You had to bite down on your lip to keep you grounded. Four months away had been a long, long time. Four months in which you'd only had yourself, your fingers, your vibrator to keep you company - four months in which you'd only heard Bradley's moans spill over the phone, had only heard him call you honey and good girl through a low-quality mic, had only seen him on pictures he'd left you, on a tiny screen at best.

You were depraved. And pretty sure you'd fall apart at the first touch.

You were so immersed in your thoughts, in that lovely imagery you had created in your head, that you almost missed the door opening. Finally. Finally. You straightened up at once.

It wasn't Bradley who stepped out first - it was one of his colleagues, you guessed, with blonde hair and much shorter - but it was Bradley who stepped out second. You'd know him from miles away.

He strode out of the door and into the sunlight, all familiar brown curls and broad shoulders and Ray-Bans on his nose and an Hawaiian shirt on and his bag lazily slung over his shoulder and that moustache - by god you'd have killed him if he'd shaved that off!

He turned his head and looked at you and a grin broke out on your lips, so wide, so incredibly wide that it felt like it'd split your face in half and before you could think, before you could form any coherent thought you were already moving, your legs with a mind of their own. You were sprinting towards him. Sprinting all through the parking lot, your heels click-clicking on the pavement, and Bradley grinned, grinned and let his bag fall to the ground carelessly, opened his arms instead. Wide, so wide. He was so tall. So broad. So inviting as you ran at him, as you jumped at him, as you wrapped your arms and your legs around him at the same time, as he caught you effortlessly, as your lips landed on his.

As you crashed into him, completely, and he didn't even stagger an inch back.

You had missed four months of this.

And now his lips were on yours. Your legs around his waist. Your arms crossed behind his neck. His breath against your mouth. His lips parted. His tongue against yours.

You were desperate. And you could feel just how desperate he was, too.

You could feel all the passion, all the fiery, red passion, all the force and firmness put into this kiss as his tongue ran along yours, as your breaths met and mingled, as his hands dug into your thighs to keep you upright, to keep you snug to him.

You pulled back incredibly reluctantly. You didn't want to let go of him. You never wanted to let go of him ever again. You wanted to have him, all of him, right here, right now, and then for eternity. But you couldn't, you couldn't because this was the middle of the parking lot, and also because you at least wanted to say hello first.

So you blinked open your eyes and took him in and allowed yourself to grin as broad and as wide as you needed to right now.

"You're back", you whispered, just because that realisation still had to sink in. "You're really back."

Bradley nuzzled your nose with his and let out a hum - god, how you'd missed him. The feel of him, the sound of him.

"Yeah, I'm here, honey", he muttered, that smile of his dripping down onto his voice. "I'm here and I won't leave any time soon."

You couldn't help but lean in again, couldn't help but capture his lips again because how else, how on earth would you let him feel all the joy you were experiencing right now? You didn't even know if you could actually feel all of it. You definitely wouldn't be able to put it into words. So you dug your teeth into his bottom lip and sighed into him and pulled him closer, closer and closer, even further into you.

"I missed you", you breathed against his mouth. "I love you and I missed you, Bradley."

He chuckled, kissed you again, drew back just enough to still touch you somehow, to still have his lips on your skin somehow and be able to talk at the same time.

"I love you so much, honey", he muttered. "And I missed you so much."

And then his lips were on yours again, his fingers digging even harder into your thighs, his breath and his tongue and his moustache scratching against your skin and you moaned, because there was no more anything you could possibly have done, because you couldn't help yourself, because you couldn't stop yourself, because you didn't want to either. You wanted to let him know just how goddamn fucking much you'd missed him.

Bradley had to bite back a laugh, pulled back and looked at you through his sunglasses.

"Sounds like we should get home, honey", he said, his eyebrows raised and his smile deepening with every word. "Been waiting for that for four months."

You let out another soft moan, pushed yourself even closer to him, dug one hand into the back of his hair and scratched the other down his shoulders, down his shirt. You wanted to feel him. All of him. God, the ride home would take ten minutes. Ten minutes. How were you supposed to survive that?

"Please", you whispered onto his lips, and you didn't think you had ever meant it as much as you did now.

Bradley groaned and kissed you again, quickly, heatedly, his tongue running along your bottom lip and then pulling back again. This wasn't enough. This wasn't enough.

He set you down on the pavement again softly, your legs a bit wobbly, unsteady, and trailed one hand from your thigh to your back - anything to keep touching you as he bent down to pick up his bag again. You smiled up at him, smoothed down the front of your dress and beamed as his eyes traveled down your body.

When they snapped back up to catch your gaze, the grin on his face had turned into a much more intense expression.

"You look gorgeous, honey", he muttered, tugging you further into his side, letting his eyes drop down to your chest again. You had to bite down on your lip to keep from jumping at him right this second. He should not have been allowed to just look at you if you couldn't have him touch you too. "Did you pick out new nail polish just for this dress?"

Your grin broadened. Of course he'd notice. Bradley Bradshaw was the only man in the whole universe who would notice. And he was yours.

"Yes, I did", you smiled, looking up at him as he walked with you back to the car. He hummed softly.

"It works great together", he said. Your breath hitched. He was gorgeous and he was here and he had noticed your nail polish. He was perfect. And you wanted him to fuck your brains out. "Reminds me of your burgundy silk dress."

You had to bite down on your lip again - god, you hadn't done that nearly as often when he'd been away! - to keep yourself grounded and to keep your grin in check before it could truly split your face in half.

Your burgundy silk dress was the one you'd worn to Penny and Mav's wedding two years ago that you had spent three weeks hunting down matching lipstick and matching nail polish for. Bradley had worn that lipstick on the base of his cock for most of the night.

"You're incredible, do you know that?", you asked, your voice a bit breathy. Bradley stopped in front of the Bronco, turned to you and pulled you close again. You brought your hands up to his chest.

"I've been told", he muttered, tilted his head down to look at you and then leaned down even further to brush a kiss to your nose. "Open up the Bronco so I can put my bag in the trunk?"

You let your eyes flutter close for just a tiny little moment (he was close, so close and you would literally die if he didn't start touching you any time soon) and breathed in as Bradley chuckled. You'd put the key in your pocket and were scrambling to get it out now, taking one, two seconds too long before you heard the familiar click of the car unlocking.

"Thanks, pretty girl", Bradley mumbled, letting go of you to pull open the trunk and you had to push down a sigh of disappointment, even as anticipation rose up in your stomach. You hadn't heard him call you pretty girl in months.

When he turned back around to you, you were still frozen in spot, still smiling dumbly at him, still waiting for him to touch you, to kiss you, to fuck you. He smiled back and you knew that he knew just what you were thinking. But you couldn't even begin to care. You wanted to get him home as quickly as possible.

"You need to stop looking at me like that, honey", he said, his voice an octave deeper and you just so managed not to let another dumb, pathetic moan slip. He closed the trunk and took a step back to you. "You know I can't help myself when you look at me like that."

At that, you did let the moan tumble from your lips after all.

He'd been away for four months. And he was looking at you with his eyes all dark and his jaw clenched and his chest rising and falling heavily. How on earth were you supposed to be normal about this? You were falling apart already and he hadn't even got you home. Four months had been a long, long time.

His hands were on your waist then, forcing you against the side of the bronco, the door handle digging into your back, the metal warmed up by the sun and your arms crossing behind his neck as his body crowded yours, one leg between yours and no more space to touch, to feel, to see anything that wasn't him - he turned his head to check if the other car had driven away and then his lips were on yours, his knee pressing against your centre.

"Bradley", you moaned into his mouth, before his tongue brushed yours and rendered you speechless. You rocked against his knee, bare skin against your thighs and you wanted to sob, you really actually wanted to sob, because this was the most contact you'd gotten in four fucking months.

Bradley pulled back an inch.

"You're soaked", he groaned against your lips, his breath on your skin, his hands on your waist and you thrust your head back against the car, against the window, squeezed your eyes shut, kept on rocking against his knee.

"I know", you whined. "Been soaked for months."

Bradley let out another groan and pulled back, pulled away from you and you whimpered, blinking your eyes open again because you'd been so close to finally getting what you wanted and now he was taking that right away from you again. You looked up at him and the only reason you didn't straight up voice your disappointment was that he looked just as debauched as you felt - running his hands through his hair, running them over his face, his curls all messed up and a considerable bulge already visible in his jeans.

"Get in the car", he rasped, taking another step back from you as though he had to physically put distance between the two of you so he wouldn't give in and take you right in this parking lot. Not that you would've minded. That other car was long gone. But that he had to restrain himself so much, that he looked so positively exhausted, that his voice was so hard and so rough and so raw, that he had already, so easily begun giving you orders drove you crazy. Orders that you knew you had to follow because this was him, this was Bradley, and if he wanted something from you.... he'd get it. You'd give it to him no matter what. You'd give him everything.

So you pushed yourself off the car with a hard breath and trailed around to the passenger side, keeping your eyes on the ground even as you heard Bradley shuffle and open the driver's door because you knew that if you looked at him, no matter how much you wanted to follow his commands, there was a high chance you wouldn't be able to help yourself.

It wouldn't be the first time.

The seat felt hot and your skin sticked to it immediately and you would have cared in any other situation, but not in this one. Not when Bradley put his hand to your thigh, to your bare skin, to just below the hem of your dress. You could have cried.

He was here, finally, and he was touching you, finally, but he wasn't touching you enough, not nearly enough. This would be a long ten minutes. You pushed your sunglasses up into your hair, turned your head and rested it against the head rest, smiling at the image before you - Bradley in the driver's seat of his Bronco, the steering wheel in one hand, the sun on his face, his curls longer than when you'd last seen them. Had he got more tan? Was that possible?

God, how you'd missed this man.

And he was here now, here, next to you, with one hand on your thigh and a grin playing on his lips and you couldn't help but smile. Big and broad and all-consuming because he was here again, this man that you called yours, he was right here next to you after four months. You loved him. You'd missed him so incredibly much.

His hand moved a little higher up on your thigh, his thumbs brushing, stroking over exposed skin, raising up your dress the slightest bit. Your breath hitched.

"Bradley-", you sighed, jaw clenching as you melted, melted at every little touch because you didn't have to only remember it anymore. You could just push up into him, watch him, breathe in his familiar scent, run your fingers along his arm. This was no more imagining, no more picturing, this was real, this was happening.

"God, I missed you saying my name like that", he groaned, tightening his grip on your thigh and you bit down on your lip, wrapped your fingers around his biceps, his wrist, forced yourself to keep your eyes open so you could keep watching him. You wouldn't miss out on a single second of watching him.

"Bradley", you repeated softly. "I'll say your name as often as you want me to."

His fingers dug even harder into your thigh as he let out some strangled sounding moan.

"You're gonna be the death of me", he muttered - how often you'd thought the same about him! "I'm lucky if I can hold out these ten minutes."

You watched him quietly for a second. You could sense the heat radiating off of him, could see his clenched jaw, could feel his deathgrip on your thigh, could hardly ignore the blazing arousal in your own veins. But if he'd wanted to fuck you in the back of his Bronco, he would've. (As picky as he was about who drove his car, he'd never had a single problem railing you into oblivion in the backseat.) There was a reason he was holding out. You could only guess that he wanted to do this properly - with time and room and no risk of getting caught by the authorities. Should you have minded? Should you have begged him to take you as quickly as possible? You were sure he would have, if you'd pleaded prettily enough. But you were quite alright with time and room and no risk of getting caught. At least for right now. The both of you would manage a ten minute ride, right? You had managed four months. Ten minutes were nothing in comparison.

"Okay", you said, trailed your fingers down to his and intertwined your hands. "I'll help. I'll tell you something. Distract you."

"You can try, honey", he chuckled, sneaked a quick sideways glance at you. "Tell me about the house."

You lit up at that. You had been dying to tell him about the house. So you pushed your arousal deep, deep down (which was easier said than done) and smiled up at him.

"I don't even know where to start", you said honestly, giving yourself a second to think about it. You had ten minutes, after all. And you had to fill them all if you wanted both of you to survive this drive.

So you told him about everything.

The short version, of course.

He'd heard some of it over the phone already, but he hadn't been able to call often and you'd spent most of your time crying and telling him how much you loved and missed him when he had answered, so...

The ten minutes went by more easily this way. You went on and on and on and on about the house, his fingers between yours, your eyes locked on his, with the occasional comment about how sorry he was that he hadn't been there to help. It had been unfortunate, of course, but at the same time it had given you something to put all your time and effort into, which had greatly helped you through his deployment. Plus, there had always been help when you had needed it - Penny and Amelia and Mav, Phoenix and Bob and Jake. The rest of the squad had been scattered, called off to their own missions, but those six you had been able to count on whenever.

Bradley's hand on your thigh was still highly distracting. He moved it up and down a few times, and each time your breath hitched, each time you stumbled over your own words, each time he grinned again.

At one point, his fingertips brushed so close to your underwear that you pushed his hand forcefully back down to your knee. He had been the one so worried he wouldn't manage a ten minute ride and now he was the one teasing you.

Not that you really minded.

But you truly felt like going insane.

Then, finally! you caught sight of your driveway. Bradley was out of the car the second he'd parked it, pulling his hand from your thigh and the key out of the ignition and you had barely unbuckled yourself when he was already opening your door, taking your hand and tugging you out, sending you stumbling into him, into his arms.

He pressed his lips to yours as he pushed the door close, pushed you up against it again, pushed the hem of your dress up to grasp at your bare thigh. You wrapped your arms around his neck, forced him even closer.

"Bradley", you gasped softly. You hadn't moaned his name like that in four months, you'd do it so often today he would get tired of it. Even though you knew that he wouldn't, of course - he would never get tired of you whispering his name into his mouth, into the nothingness of an empty room, into his ear, into the pillows.

He didn't pull back from you, even as he took a slow, careful step away - making sure you'd catch on, making sure you'd follow, making sure to keep you safely, steadily against him. Not that you'd have done anything else. You trusted him with your life, you would trust him to keep you upright. So you did just what he wanted, followed, stumbled with him, eyes closed, lips on his, fingers brushing along his shoulders.

He did pull back then - just an inch or two, to turn you around, to look over your shoulder once, to tear his hand from your thigh and wrap his arms around you instead. And then his lips were back on yours again and his tongue running along yours. He pushed and you followed his wordless command, your legs working quicker than your mind, stumbling, tripping backwards, backwards, backwards and you barely cared, barely even acknowledged the ground beneath your feet because you were wrapped up in his arms, because you were tugging at his curls, because he was here, kissing you, finally.

You weren't needy.

You were desperate. You were depraved, frantic, starved. He was the air you needed to breathe and you hadn't taken a single breath in the past four months.

So you weren't pretending in the way you pulled him close, closer, closer, or in the frenzied way you kissed him, or in the desperate way you sighed, groaned, moaned against him, into him. You needed him. You needed more of him. All of him. You needed to get inside so you could have him.

You bumped into the door then, just short of digging the doorknob into your spine - Bradley pushed you right up against it and you gasped into his mouth, into the kiss. He crowded you against the door much like he'd crowded you against the Bronco, pulling his arms from around you to grasp your waist instead, to press your hips up to the door as well, and used one hand to fumble for the keyhole. He did so blindly, with his eyes still closed, his lips still on yours, with one of your legs coming up to wrap around his hips, your heels digging into his shorts.

Needless to say, he needed quite some time to turn the key.

You didn't mind. Not in the slightest.

You were making out with Bradley Bradshaw right on the doorstep of the house you shared with him, in the bright afternoon sunlight and truly, you couldn't have minded less. You didn't give two fucks about any of your neighbours or any passerbys spotting you - should they, by god! Bradley had come home from deployment after four months, you would make out with him on your doorstep for as long as you wanted to. You wouldn't ever stop making out with him ever again.

Not when he was here again, in your arms, with your fingers tugging at his hair, brushing along his neck, stroking along the collar of his shirt, sweeping along his shoulders. Not with your leg around his hips. Not with your lips on his. Not with anticipation, with arousal in every fibre of your body, of your soul. You were going mad with it. You were getting drunk on it.

You were euphoric when Bradley finally opened the gods damned front door.

He kept you safe and steady even as the support at your back broke away, as you almost crashed onto the floor of your own hallway. He walked you back into the pleasant cold and for once, for the first and probably the only time, you were the one to break away. You gave yourself a second to catch your breath. Then you pushed off of him completely. You took a step away, pulled the key from the door, pushed it close and when you turned back around, Bradley had set his sunglasses down on the little table you had put next to the coat rack a few weeks ago.

And you looked him in the eyes for the first time in four months.

He motioned at the table.

"Looks great, honey", he said, his voice a little too rough to sound quite normal. "Nice touch."

You shook your head softly.

"I couldn't care less about the table right now", you muttered, and with that, you were on him again. Actually, truly, fully on him again. You pushed yourself right up onto him, into him, pried his shirt off his shoulders, off his arms, let it drop down to the ground and then reached for his jaw to drag him further down, to deepen the kiss even if you knew that was impossible. So you bit down on his lip and allowed him to finally push your dress up over your hips, over your chest, over your head - you had to let go of him for a moment then, had to pull away from him so he could drop your dress on the floor and before you could even come close to reaching out for him again, he was taking a step back.

You could feel his eyes raking down your body. You could feel him taking in the white lingerie on your skin - the strings of the thong high up on your hips, intricate lace around your waist, the small bow right in the centre of it, the bra cups almost transparent, the floral white pattern covering up your nipples, the other few, small bows sown onto the straps.

You sucked in a breath at the look on his face. You hadn't seen that look in far too long.

"God, honey", Bradley groaned, reached for your waist, brushed his thumbs along the lace, ran his fingertips along the lingerie. You bit down on your lip as he pulled you, slowly, carefully, into him - gave you enough time to rest your hands on his chest, your palms against his tank top. "You look sinful. Did you buy that just for me?"

You nodded, swallowed.

"Just for you", you admitted. "Wanted to surprise you."

Bradley tugged you another inch closer, so close that your chest bumped into his, your breasts pressing against him. He let out a hum, his eyes dropping down to your cleavage.

"You did that, pretty girl", he muttered, his fingers digging into your sides. "You're incredible."

Then his lips were on yours again and you were melting, becoming putty in his hands, turning to goo in his arms. Your breaths met, lips parted. You couldn't quite believe you were finally touching him again.

He walked you back to the bedroom, narrowly avoiding the doorway, his hands on your hips, his fingers digging into your bum. You reached for the hem of his shirt, forced him to stop right on the threshold so you could get rid of it - get rid of that one layer of fabric still in the way. You drew back for a second to pull it over his head, to drop it to the floor, to let your eyes travel all over his bare torso.

God, how you'd missed this man and his broad shoulders and his washboard abs. How you'd missed his touch and the sound of his voice.

"Bradley", you gasped softly, your fingertips trailing over his naked skin, down to his shorts. "I need you."

He let out a groan.

"I've waited four months for you to say that again", he muttered. You could hardly take another breath before he was on you again - lips on yours and hands on your hips and your back hit the bed a moment later, the cushy mattress, the fluffy pillows softening your fall.

You raised yourself up onto your elbows so you could watch him as he stood in front of your bed, the sunlight dripping down him like drops of water hitting the floorboards, his torso bare, his curls messed up, looking down at you with a heaving chest, his fingers on his belt, unhooking it, opening the button on his jeans, pulling down his zipper - you swallowed hard as you watched him drop his shorts on the floor, step out of his shoes.

A whine rolled off your tongue.

"Bradley, hurry up", you whimpered, your fingers cramping in the sheets, your legs pressing together all of their own accord, trying to get some kind of friction as he undressed himself in slow motion while you just lay there, your panties long soaked through and your fingers itching to trail down your own body.

Bradley chuckled.

"Don't worry, honey", he muttered, kneeling down on the ground to drop kisses to your calves before pulling off your sandals. "I'll make sure you forget about the past four months, alright?"

Your breath hitched as your heels hit the ground.

"Please", you begged softly. "I've missed you so much."

He wrapped his hands around your hips, pulled you to the edge of the bed - his breath ghosting over your underwear, over that tiny white piece of lingerie you had bought for him, for him to take you apart in. His fingers dug into your skin, spread out wide, to touch as much of you as he possibly could. He pressed a kiss right to that wet spot on your thong.

You let out a moan. God, how had you survived four months without him? You were barely surviving fifteen minutes of not having him fuck you.

Bradley grinned, raised his head to meet your eyes and seriously, you were close. Too close. He hadn't touched you yet, not really. You'd die today, you were sure, die and go to heaven.

"You look almost too good to undress, honey", he muttered, brushing his thumbs below that lace around your waist, not making a move to pull it down your legs.

"Bradley, please", you whined, your hands brushing over your own chest, running over your bra cups, tracing the flowers, desperately holding back from just ripping everything off yourself, pushing him onto his knees and riding him into oblivion. "Don't tease. I need you."

He groaned into the skin of your thigh.

"Anything you want, honey", he muttered - and then your thong was gone and he was burying his tongue inside you, dipping, tracing, licking, circling your clit, breathing you in, devouring you. Taking and giving everything. It had been four months since he'd had you like this and he wanted everything, every inch of you he could get. He wanted to taste you, every last drop of you, wanted to eat you out until you couldn't think anymore, until you had truly, fully forgotten all the time he had been away, all the time you had been forced to be on your own, alone.

You thrashed, moaned above him - your fingers clenching around your bra, brushing over your nipples. You were close. Close after the entirety of three seconds, close to tears, close to coming.

"Bradley", you choked out, tearing your hands off yourself, burying them in his hair instead - tugging him off, tugging him away from you. You took a deep breath as he let go of you, as he loosened his grip on you, looked up at you with desperation in his eyes.

"I need you to fuck me", you whimpered, already too sensitive, too tense. "I need you inside me."

You hadn't had him in four months.

Four months had been enough goddamn foreplay. As much as you loved when he ate you out, you needed him, you needed his cock, you needed to feel him inside you, you needed him to take you apart and make up for all the time lost.

Bradley nodded, nodded because he knew, he understood - he saw the frantic look in your eyes, had felt the desperate drag of your hands at his clothes, his arms, his shoulders, his hair. He'd give anything to you. Everything. He would do whatever you wanted of him.

Maybe in another situation he'd have made you beg more, would have teased you more, would have edged you a few times. Maybe in another situation. But not in this one. Not after four months of being away from you, not when you were so beautifully, so desperately spread out beneath him, looking up at him with wide eyes and rosy cheeks, your lip pulled between your teeth, your gorgeous white lingerie still concealing too much of your skin.

As he'd said, you were almost too gorgeous to undress. But just almost.

So he rose up from the ground, pulled you up with him, pulled you in, his fingers brushing along your sides, your spine, your bra clasp. He let it fall open. You worked fast, worked your bra down your arms and off your hands and drew back from him to fling it against the wall and lay down on the bed, lay down all pretty and waiting.

You needed him to fuck you. Now.

He let out a groan, closed his eyes. The look on his face had you pressing your legs together again. Wetness was coating the inside of your thighs now. It glistened on his moustache. And you were sure you could have tasted it on his tongue too.

He was making you go insane.

"How do you want me, pretty girl?", he asked, pressing his knees into the side of the mattress. "Tell me how and I'll do whatever you want."

Your breath hitched in your throat. Your nerves were bubbling up. Four months. You'd waited four months for this one question.

"Behind", you whined. "Need you from behind."

Bradley had known, of course, because that was what you always said when he stood at the front of your bed and asked you this question. His hands were on your waist, grasping, grabbing, turning you over before you had fully finished speaking, your cheek pressed against the pillows, your breath coming short and shorter, adrenaline pumping through every single one of your veins. You felt hot and sticky and needy and nervous.

Nervous because Bradley stilled.

Nervous because he sucked in a sharp breath.

Nervous, even though you had been here a million times before, in his bed and in yours, bent over desks and bars and couches, with the heat of him behind you, arousal flowing through your body like oxygen, anticipation clouding your mind.

"Shit, honey", Bradley breathed.

You closed your eyes and clenched your jaw.

How you'd have loved to see his expression. But you had known you wouldn't. You had prepared yourself to be satisfied with the sound of his voice, with the feel of him so close to you.

"Shit", Bradley repeated. He took another deep breath in. "You got a tattoo?"

A tattoo.

Your tattoo.

You nodded into the pillow, scraped your cheek against the fabric, so eager, so quick to agree. Four months you had waited for this. Four months since you had begun planning this - the very day after he'd left, in a conversation with none other than Phoenix. Four long, lonely months.

Bradley ran his thumb along the soft expanse of your skin. Along that strip of skin right above your hips, just where they met your back - right above your ass, right where he could see so very perfectly.

He was gentle. Almost not touching you at all. As though he was afraid he could somehow, even after all this time, hurt you, as though he was afraid he could wipe it away.

"It's healed", you whined, breathlessly, trying your hardest not to squirm, not to push back further into him even though you felt like you were going insane. You'd known he'd take his sweet time staring at that inked expanse of skin. But you hadn't known you would be so goddamn desperate for him to fuck you into delirium while he did so. "It's fully healed."

Bradley was quiet, silent behind you. His thumb stilled, stayed still. You sunk your teeth into your lip.

You would truly go mad here. For more than one reason now.

Bradley was always loud. Always moving, always doing something. He was forward and honest and loud and it was a miracle, really, when he wasn't. When he was calm and quiet and still. It didn't always mean something good.

It surely didn't always mean something bad, either.

But it didn't always mean something good.

And you hadn't been nervous. You hadn't been nervous about showing him, because you knew he loved you and he'd love this - this show of him, this show for him. Just for him. But you had still been fidgety. You had still been excited, flustered.... nervous, after all. In a good way. Now, good was turning to less good because he was quiet, for once, quiet and you didn't know what to do, what to say. You had expected him to go feral, had expected him to fuck you raw, to go absolutely ballistic. You had imagined, pictured, visualised it, four months long. Every night that you hadn't been remembering him, you had been imagining this - this moment right here, where he read the words inked forever into your skin, and every time, again and again, your fingers hadn't been enough, your vibrator hadn't been enough, nothing had been enough. Not in comparison to him, to his fingers and his tongue and his cock.

And every time, again and again, when nothing had been enough to replace him, you thought to yourself just how right it had been to have lain on that leather table bed in that tattoo parlour four months ago. Just how right it was to have him marked on your skin like that. Forever.

Great Balls Of Fire.

"Bradley, please", you whimpered, your fingers closing around whatever piece of fabric you could manage to grab at - the covers, the sheets, the pillows. "Say something. Please"

Bradley let out a long breath.

"Great Balls Of Fire?", he asked quietly, his fingers brushing over your skin again. Some kind of reassurance, at least.

"Thought you'd like it", you mumbled into the pillow, stumbling, tripping over your words a bit, still breathless around the edges. You couldn't be expected to talk now. Not when he was so close to giving you what you needed.

"Like it?" His hands wrapped around your waist, his left thumb still stroking over those unfamiliar familiar letters on your skin - Great Balls Of Fire, in his handwriting, taken from one of his sheets of music, from his piano. His song. His father's song.

Your song.

Your song.

Your song.

"Honey", Bradley rasped, pulling you an inch back to him and you let a whine fall from your lips. You were soaked, you were dripping, you were desperate and still so very unsatisfied. "Do I like it? I love it. I love you. God, you got a tattoo. You're incredible. You're-"

He stumbled over his own words, trailed off, left his sentence hanging unfinished in mid air. Instead, he leaned down and pressed a kiss right on top of your tattoo. Right on top of those letters, on top of that song, on top of your song. On top of the very reason you had met, six years ago in a stuffed navy bar.

"You're the best thing that's ever happened to me", he muttered, dropping another kiss onto your skin.

You whimpered again.

"You've been so good to me, honey, haven't you?", he went on, as though he wasn't hearing those little whines, those little moans rolling off your tongue. He was. You knew that. "You waited so prettily for me to come back, didn't you? You were so eager for me to be home again, so eager for me to be with you again that you even got a tattoo?"

You nodded along, nodded and nodded and kept on nodding because yes, yes and yes - yes to everything, yes to him.

"You got a tattoo just for me, honey. You can't even see it. Probably had to twist and turn in the mirror every day to take care of it, didn't you? And all just for me."

You nodded again - never really stopped nodding, not with his fingers brushing along your back, over your skin, with his voice so deep and rough and real.

"Just for you", you whined.

Bradley chuckled.

"Just for me", he repeated, his voice deeper than before - if that was even possible - his fingers stroking along your sides, roaming over your back, your spine. "Such a good girl."

A shiver went through your entire body at that - through your legs, your arms, your shoulders, through every single one of your fingers and toes. He knew just what he did to you when he said that.

He knew.

"Bradley", you moaned, unashamed now, the nerves in your veins long subsided, replaced once more by that all-consuming heat that you could never get enough of.

"Yeah, honey?", he asked. You could hear the grin on his lips. "What do you want?"

You let out a sort of sob that sounded pathetic even to your own ears. It wasn't that you minded begging. Because you didn't. You really didn't. But you had already done so, had already begged him miserably, had told him so prettily how you wanted him to fuck you. And he was starting all over again.

"Just once more, honey", Bradley whispered, dropping kisses to your spine, climbing higher and higher. "Tell me once more and you'll get whatever you want."

"Fuck me", you cried out, burying your face in the pillow, not letting even half a second pass by. Bradley always made good on his promises. And you needed him more than anything right now. "Please fuck me."

He was on you within a heartbeat.

One hand around your waist, pulling you into him, as the other one guided himself into you. He pushed into you in one smooth movement, pushed his hips right to yours, stretched you out like he hadn't in four goddamn months.

You were clenching around him, moaning his name, tears brimming in your eyes at the feeling of him again, finally. He was grunting, groaning behind you, his hands clasping around your waist as he settled deep inside you and let out a breath.

You hadn't felt so stretched out in so long. You hadn't felt him in so long. You needed more. You needed to feel more of him.

"Bradley", you whimpered. "Move."

His fingers dug even firmer into your sides. You bit down on your lip. He felt so good, so heavenly with his hands on your skin and his cock deep inside you, but you needed him to move, you needed him to move now, you needed him to fuck you and make you fall apart for him.

"Need a second, honey", he grunted, running his thumbs along your skin - along your new tattoo, just for this, just for him. "God, pretty girl, you're so tight. Missed you so much."

You whimpered underneath him, whimpered as you forced yourself to keep still for him, even as your thighs burned with the need to move, the need for more, the need to finally come undone around him. You knew you were close already. You could feel it, had been feeling it, dancing around the edges of your perception, melting in your blood, scorching in your stomach.

"Missed you too, Bradley", you moaned into the pillow, breathless and desperate for him. "Want to be good for you. So good."

"God, honey, you are", he groaned. "So good. Perfect."

And then he was moving, finally, and you let out a sobbed kind of prayer, your eyes falling shut, your fingers digging into the sheets as he thrust in and out of you in a slow, steady rhythm - enjoying the feeling of you around him, letting you enjoy the feeling of him inside you.

Just that you couldn't enjoy this.

You couldn't enjoy this because you were wound so tightly, wound so goddamn tightly that tears were pricking in your eyes, threatening to run down your cheeks and drop onto the covers. You needed him to make you fall apart, to make you come, you needed more. Just a little more.

You were teetering on the edge and he had you spiralling with how slowly he was fucking you. You needed him to send you over that edge, not build it higher and higher and higher up.

"Bradley", you whined, stumbling clumsily over his name as he ran a hand up your back. "More."

"Dunno if I can-" He broke off, his breath hitching, his fingers resting on your neck, brushing through your hair. "Fuck, honey, dunno if I can do more without coming."

You bit down on your lip at that, let out a moan so absolutely filthy that you were sure you would have been embarrassed of it if you'd had any more capacity to think - to think of anything other than him, anything other than how this god, who could fuck you for hours on end without tiring once, with so much stamina he could have you sobbing, coming for him four, five times on his cock alone, how this god was so desperate for you after four months that he was worried he'd come if he went any faster.

You were almost pushed over the edge just by that alone.

"I don't care", you cried, because you really didn't. "I don't need long, I need you. I'm so close."

Bradley grunted, his fingers brushing even higher up on your scalp.

"You're gonna be the death of me, honey", he muttered, just before he grabbed a fistful of your hair and pulled you up onto your knees - into him, into his arms, your back flush to his chest. You dropped your head against his shoulder with a moan, let your eyes fall shut again.

He thrust up into you with vigor then, with more urgency, with less fear of coming undone, less fear of cutting this short. His hands smoothed over your sides, over your chest, holding you up against him, brushing along your breasts, along your stomach.

And all you could think was yes, this, this was it. This was what you had been imagining, what you had been picturing in a cold, lonesome bed every night, what you had been so desperate for.

His fingers trailed down your thigh, trailed up again, caught on your clit, drew a circle against that little bundle of nerves and you fell forward, doubled over, only held up by him, by his arms around you as you came undone, as you clenched around him.

Four months.

Four months and a tattoo.

And he hadn't even had you there for two minutes, had barely touched you, and now you were falling apart for him, lips parted, eyes squeezed shut, legs burning, fingers cramping. You'd waited four months for this.

You could feel him spilling inside you, noticed it somewhere dancing around the edges of your perception as you gasped for breath, tears stinging your cheeks and your nails digging into your own thighs.

This.

Him.

Bradley's finger had stilled on your clit. You blinked your eyes open, refocused on your green wallpaper, on the pictures, the old vintage polaroids of you and him right above the bed until you could see them all clearly again, until you could see them and realise what they were, until you could manage to tilt your head back and rest it, once more, against Bradley's shoulder. Until you had come back to reality again.

"I missed you so much, honey", he muttered into your ear, pressing a soft, open-mouthed kiss onto your exposed neck. "Missed this so much."

"Missed you so much too", you mumbled, reached for his hands. He pulled his finger from your clit, let you intertwine your hands with his, rested them carefully on your stomach. "Love you, Bradley."

He pressed another kiss to your neck, his lips warm, oh so warm on your skin, soft and warm and you needed him to kiss you now, to press his lips to yours.

"I love you too, honey", he whispered, halfway to brushing another kiss onto your skin when you turned your head, met his lips with your own, cut him off by surprise.

This was a weird angle, you had to strain your neck to even slot your lips together somewhat well and you were sloppy with it, too, your chest still heaving and your mind returning to clarity just now, but you didn't care, couldn't care, not when he'd just made you come, when he was holding you in his arms, when he was finally here, right behind you again, as though the last four months hadn't happened at all.

When you pulled back, you were feeling more normal again - as normal as you possibly could feel, with him behind you, with him inside you still.

"You got a tattoo", Bradley breathed, a grin dancing around the corners of his lips. You chuckled.

"Just for you", you nodded, brushing your fingertips up his arms, up to his elbows.

Bradley kissed you again, all parted lips and breathing into each other. You felt almost melancholic when he drew back. But he was smiling - and when he smiled, you had to smile too.

"I'm never letting you go again", he said, loosened his grip on you to trail his hands slowly, softly down your body, giving you enough time to steady yourself without him holding you up anymore. "And I'm not letting you leave this bed until the sun comes up, alright, pretty girl?"

You had to bite down on your lip to keep from grinning, anticipation already bubbling in your veins again. You knew he could make good on that promise. And that he probably would.

"Yes, please, Bradley", you muttered, already bending down again, splaying out your hands to catch yourself on the mattress as you showed him your tattoo again, just for him to see, just for him to touch. Just for him. "Whatever you want. As long as you want. I love you."

[spookydrreid]

Let’s Start the New Year Right

Spencer Reid x fem!reader

18+ minors DNI

desc: Spencer and reader get invited to a chill, casual NYE party. But things heat up right at the stroke of midnight.

cw: food mention, Spencer is a little awkward in the beginning, oral (f receiving), unprotected sex, semi-public sex (in a bathroom)... Let me know if I missed anything

wc: 1667

...

“I can’t go dressed like this? People will laugh at me.” 

Spencer looks himself over in the mirror for the tenth time, running a hand down his sweatshirt. It was New Years Eve and you two weren’t doing anything too crazy, just spending time at your friend Andies house with a few others. She’d just bought said house and was desperate for you and the rest of your friends to see it. And what better time than New Year's Eve?

“They will not laugh at you. Andie said she wanted everyone to be casual and casual means jeans and sweatshirts,” you called from inside your closet. “And we’ll be out by the fire. You’ll be more comfortable like this. Trust me.” 

You peak around the corner to his portion of the closet, a small smile tugging at your lips. He looks cute, more dressed down than you usually see him. In fact, this is the most you’ve seen him in the past three weeks. Serial killers don’t take breaks, even during the holidays. So off he and the team went to bum-fuck-nowhere Alabama and missed Christmas.

It was disappointing to say the least. 

But it was his job, something he warned you of previously. However, it didn’t mean him missing important days didn’t hurt. But you sucked it up and smiled through it. Plus, it didn’t matter. He was home and he was safe. 

“I do trust you. But I don’t want to be underdressed.” He sighs moving to grab his tennis shoes, sitting on the little poof seat you insisted on buying. (And that he secretly loved. Not that he’d admit it.) 

You pull your hair out of the back of your sweatshirt, smoothing it down and grabbing a warm hat. “You won’t be. This isn’t like Rossi’s where we dress to the nines and get drunk on champagne.” 

You see him grin as he ties his shoes, a small blush rising on his ears. 

“Yeah he was sad we were coming this year. I, however, am excited we aren’t going. I have spent more than enough time with all of them. They’ll survive without me for a night.” 

You giggle, walking towards him and hugging him from behind. “Yes, baby, your friends will survive without you. You’re all mine tonight.” You kiss his cheek before straightening and checking your phone, “we should head out, sweetheart. Andie will be pissed if we’re late.” 

The drive to Andies was short, filled with Spencer's long winded explanation about why you and he bought your house at the ‘most perfect time’. You loved listening to him ramble, even if half the time he spoke gibberish. You were thankful you could google some of the super big words he used. 

The second you’re parked outside the house, big, beautiful and full of holiday cheer, you see Spencer tense. You’d think after six years together, he’d be more calm around your friends. They helped him with the proposal after all and he still has the group chat. The group chat where they send him memes he doesn’t understand. However, no matter the time, he isn’t the most comfortable with anyone but you. And more so in your bedroom. 

You find it… endearing to say the least. 

You reach over and grab his hand, squeezing it three times i am here. “Ready?” 

He squeezes back and nods, “I am… I think.” 

It’s all you need before getting out and never once letting go of Spencer’s hand. 

Andie stands at the door, smile on her face, two glasses of punch in her hands. “There is my best friend and her hot as fuck fiance!”

Spencer practically cringes at her words, never being one who could handle a compliment. Even if he was the most beautiful human you’ve ever seen. 

“Hi! Sorry we’re late. We had a late night. You know how it is, serial killers killing during the holidays. Dr. Reid forever having to save the day.” You pat his chest, looking up at him fondly. 

He loves when you look at him like that, eyes so wide, filled to the brim with love. He kisses your head and 

Andie fake gags, handing you the drinks in her hand. “Yes, yes. Get inside before we let the kitten out and before the cold air comes in.” 

You sip it, the vodka making your chest feel warm. Spencer looks down at the cup before looking back at you, “I can’t drink. Want this?” You nod, taking it and pouring it into your cup. “A-andie do you have water? Bottled? I don’t like sink water and fridge water tastes funny so bottled is better. Even though it’s not good for the environment.

“But it’s not really us that needs to worry. It’s the famous people who really pollute the envi-” 

Andie cuts him off, “Spencie baby, you don’t have to explain this to me. I have plenty of bottled water. Want a cold one or a room temp one?” 

Spencer curls his lips over his teeth, a small blush creeping up his neck, “cold is fine. Thank you, Andie.” 

“You’re welcome sweet thing.” She digs in her fridge and finds the bottle, handing it to him. “Now, time for a tour.” 

… 

It takes a good few minutes for her to show you both around the house, making sure she explains every single detail even down to the persian rug her current boyfriend bought her when he went to visit his mother. 

Spencer, of course, went on and on about this, that and the third. It was cute. 

But soon you were in Spencer's lap, staying warm by a fire and roasting a marshmallow while Spencer got the chocolate and graham crackers ready. You were two drinks and three shots in, happily buzzed but not even close to drunk. 

“You are so hot when you open chocolate. S’anyone ever told you that?” You say it quietly, not wanting to embarrass him in front of anyone. 

He smirks, using the top graham cracker to slide the toasted marshmallow off of the stick and smoosh it between the other cracker and chocolate. “No one has ever told me that. But there is a first for everything.” 

He takes the first bite before handing you the rest. You pout a little and he laughs. “You ate my smore! Not fair.” 

He kisses you, lips brushing over yours gently, “I will make you another when you finish that one.” “What happened to my shy boy? Getting bossy out here.” You smirk, knowing you’re pushing his buttons.

“I didn’t hear you complaining last night when I fucked you into the mattress.” He says right in your ear, nipping at it slightly. 

You shiver, squirming in his lap. “You-you can’t do this to me. We can’t fuck here.” 

He kisses your temple, “there are four bathrooms here. We totally could. They all lock, I made sure.” 

Andie claps her hands, “ten minutes till midnight!” 

Spencer grips your thigh, “what a way to ring in the new year? Me buried inside you.” 

You cross your legs, trying anything to get some friction. 

“They’ll notice, Spence.” You look around, no one is paying attention to you, most of them sucking face with their dates.

“Oh baby, they won’t notice.” 

Before you know it, your pants and underwear are on the bathroom floor, and Spencer's face buried in your cunt. You bite your fist to quiet the moan. For some reason, it was extremely hot getting eaten out with the possibility of someone hearing you. But that didn’t mean you wanted to get caught. 

“So pretty bunny.” He purrs from below you. He pushes two fingers inside you, easily opening you up. He knows your body better than you do, making mental notes of every little moan, gasp, and sigh that leaves your lips. Because of this it isn’t long before he has you falling over the edge, somehow keeping your moans quiet.

“Time,” He asks as he stands, towering over you.

You check your phone with shaky fingers, “11… 11:50” 

Spencer pulls at his belt with fervor, pushing his pants down till they pool at his ankles. “Gotta keep you quiet for another ten minutes.” 

His lips are on yours, swallowing your moans as he pushes all the way inside you. He doesn’t waste time, his hips snapping against yours. His lips travel from your lips and down your neck, moving your sweatshirt to the side to suck hickies where no one can see them. 

‘Just for me,’ he’d always say. ‘Only for me.’ 

“Spencer, please.” How you manage to whisper it is beyond you. But it doesn’t matter with the way he’s moving. 

“Shh… I’ve got you, bunny.” He snaps his hips faster. 

Your second orgasm comes right at 11:58. And it isn’t long before you can hear your friends counting down. 

Ten.

“Fuck bunny. Feel so good.” 

Nine

“S-spencer…” 

Eight

His hand covers your mouth, muffling your growing moans. 

Seven 

“I know you don’t want to get caught.” 

Six 

“‘Specially not so close to midnight. Right?” 

Five 

You shake your head no. Eyes staying locked with his.

Four

A wicked smirk crosses his lips, his confidence growing. 

Three

“S’what I thought.” 

Two 

His thrust grow more and more sloppy and before long his head falls into your shoulder and his orgasm rips through him, spilling inside you. 

One

His kiss is hard, hands on the sides of your face while he makes out with you, riding out the rest of his orgasm. He’s panting as he pulls back, Spencer's forehead resting on yours. 

“Happy New Years, sweet angel.”

...

I hope you enjoyed! This is my first fic in almost a year. Im nervous to say the least lmao. I love you all ❤️

[totaly-obsessed]

can you write for mary where readers ment to be away working but shows up at an important game and surprises her

Two-Week Notice

Mary Earps x reader request

-> Domestic fluff, reader can't attend Mary's game but surprises her.

-> Also for this request

➳ Masterlist

•─────⋅☾ ☽⋅─────•

Meeting Mary had been one of the best moments in your life. Not because it was such a nice or cute moment, but because it let Mary into your life – bettering it by a hundred times.

The goalkeeper had just moved into a new Apartment building after joining Manchester United after a season at Wolfsburg, and she had not met anyone in her building. Life had come at the 26-year-old hard and fast.

And just as fast came the first fire alarm at her new place, and while she had been warned that the alarm often malfunctioned, she would not take any chances. After a quick walk through her apartment, checking that every window was closed and that she had grabbed her essentials, she was out the door into the flooding rain.

You however had lived in the building for a while and should have a routine by now when you were rudely ripped out of your well-deserved sleep. But you did in fact not have a routine, panicking every time.

This day was no different.

You were the last one out of the building, as usual – with no jacket. The rain was not something that you took notice of at first, too shocked that there actually was a fire in the building. It was a taller woman, with a very friendly smile who made you aware. “Aren’t you cold, love?”

As if a switch had been flipped, you started to shiver. “Forgot my jacket.” Mary was a goner the second she saw you shivering in the cold rain, the only thing in your hands, being a pillow, while she had her entire training kit.

The footballer didn’t hesitate to extend her jacket around you, effectively pulling you so close to her, that you could feel the heat radiating off of her. “You don’t mind, do ya?”

That was the beginning of something wonderful. Before you started dating, many evenings were spent together as ‘friends’ cooking and watching movies together. You listened to Mary moan about training and her teammates and she would sit and listen to you complain about your annoying co-workers who apparently could not function without you.

And while it was easy to fall in love with Mary, it was even easier to love her.

It took two months until you officially started dating each other. The first move was made by Mary who just sat you down one evening and asked you out on a date. Just like that, with a calm and collected mind, like she was playing one of the biggest games of her life.

A year later you moved into her apartment. It was the bigger one and your lease came to an end. If the two of you were being honest you could have moved in with each other the second you started dating – you could practically count the days you had spent in your own four walls on one hand.

One of Mary’s favorite parts of living together was the joined naps. Most of the time when she had come home from training you were on the couch napping, trying to stay awake until the goalkeeper came home, but you never quite managed – too tired from the early shift you had worked. After changing she would join you on the couch, setting an alarm so that you would not sleep away the day.

Waking you from your slumber was another one of the brunettes’ favorite moments. You were just so cute. Scrunched nose, red cheeks, and adorable whining that it was much too cold. Mary tended to stare at you, tempted to let you sleep longer, before she eventually just kissed you awake, making you giggle – a noise she loved oh so much.

Once it was later at night and time for bed came the playful fighting. Your favorite topic to fight about? The blanket and Mary’s tendency of stealing it, which was bad enough, but also denying it – blaming it on you.

“Mary, stop hogging the blanket!” She was curled up in it like a burrito, leaving you with just a corner of it. “Mary? Who’s Mary? My name is Baby, or Love, or literally anything else.” She had turned over to you lightning fast when you had called her by her government name, clearly offended by it.

“Okay, ‘literally anything else’ move over, I wanna be warm.” A shriek of speechlessness filled the room when a mischievous smile took over her face. Carefully she unwrapped the blanket, and just as you thought that you had gotten what you wanted and could finally head to bed – she pounced.

“Mary, no. No. No! Don’t you dare! Mary!” your incredibly strong girlfriend had jumped up from the bed, picking you up and holding you like a baby, making you unable to move. You thrashed in her arms as well as you could. “I’m mad, Mary! Put me down. Put me dooown!”

Whining took over the room as you struggled, eventually making Mary lose her balance but before she dropped you and herself, she just threw her body forward, taking you with her, toppling onto the bed.

Silence filled the room for a minute, both of you lying on the messy bed. “Are you still mad?” Instead of answering you pressed your ice-cold feet onto Mary`s very warm back. Swears and shrieks left her mouth as she took your feet in her hands and jokingly rolled you over, straddling your lap. “Let’s see where this night is going, ey cheeky?”

---

---

One of your favorite aspects of living together, aside from getting to hang out with the love of your life for the entire day, was a joined wardrobe. In the beginning, both of you had sections in the huge dresser and wardrobe, but over time your section was left untouched and Mary kept missing things.

“Baby, have you seen my blue Nike hoodie?” The goalkeeper wanted to wear it to a nice night in with the Manchester City girls, but could not find it anywhere. “No! Try the bathroom.” Of course, you had seen the hoodie. You were in fact wearing it, but you hoped, that Mary wouldn’t notice.

At first, she did not, searching the entire apartment before flopping down on the couch, burying her face in your chest – when she noticed that the blue of your hoodie was familiar. “Baby, that’s mineee.” She whined at you, trying to take it off you. “Love – please no. It’s so cold without it.”

For ten long minutes Mary tried to get her clothes back when she discovered that you were also wearing her joggers and socks – but it was useless. She caved once she saw your cute pout. With a loud huff, she went back to the bedroom, getting dressed in a green version of the same hoodie. “Baby, we’re matching – look!” You excitedly held out your arm, showing the material to a very unimpressed lioness. “I think I should join you for dinner.”

“Nu-uh! You don’t deserve it – thief!” But once Mary was opening the front door, she turned to you, asking why you were not ready. She clearly didn’t expect you to be actually dressed.

But alas you were and accompanied her to dinner. While she acted all mad about it, you knew that she loved it – she loved seeing you with her teammates who took such great care of you.

The joined closet was a mutually loved concept – you loved wearing Mary’s clothes and she loved seeing you in them.

---

---

As much as you loved being a WAG, and attended every match Mary played, sometimes it just didn’t work out. That was the case for the quarterfinal of the European Championships on home soil, here in England. The girls were playing against Spain, a feisty match, an incredibly important one at that.

And you? Stuck at work.

Why? Because the men in your company decided to punish you, ‘losing’ the form you had handed in as a request to get the day off. So there you were, stuck at work while Mary was preparing for one of the most important games of her life – without you.

Not only did you have to be at work which was already annoying but your colleagues were weaponizing their incompetence more than usual, making you do everything. Just 20 minutes after kick-off you have had enough. So you stood up, entered your boss's office, and handed in your two-week notice that you had filled out for a while now.

And with that, you just left. Ignoring your boss and colleagues who told you that you could not just leave.

Ten minutes later you entered the Falmer stadium, joining Mary’s parents in the family section who immediately ushered you off to the changing rooms. It was eerily silent as you sat down in Mary’s cubby, fidgeting with her second pair of gloves.

Just a few minutes later you could hear a bunch of cleats hitting the floor, a nervous chatter filling the hallway. Leah was the first to enter, eyes wide in surprise when she saw you. But the skipper did not say anything, as did the others who followed.

As usual, Mary was one of the last people, busy talking to Millie about what they needed to change. She nearly just sat down on you, when she finally noticed. “Baby! I thought you couldn’t come!” Kisses were spread all over your face, the brunette being teased by the other lionesses.

Quietly you explained how you had gotten there, your girlfriend happy that you finally quit, when Sarina and the coaching staff joined the girls in the room. Mary had pulled you on her lap, holding you as close to her as she could, trying to calm down and compose her thoughts.

With a good-luck kiss on her lips and gloves she left for the pitch again. Alessia and Ella followed, also wanting a good-luck kiss on their foreheads, and soon the entire squad of the lionesses had gotten a forehead kiss from you – Mary watching with curious eyes.

---

The second half was tense, especially after Esther scored in the 54th minute. But it was a freshly substituted Ella who got the equalizer in the 84th before Georgia shot the game-winning goal in the 96th. But there were still 20 minutes to go, and Mary did brilliantly.

2-1 to England and the crowd erupted in cheers once the final whistle sounded.

It was Millie and Lucy who had made their way over to you, lifting you over the barrier and onto the pitch – just to be tackled by Ella. “Your kiss helped! Ya must be my lucky charm now.” The excited brunette kissed your cheeks over, and over again, giggling in excitement.

“Get your own good-luck charm Tooney!” Mary had finally gotten to you, pulling you out of Ella’s hands and into a bruising kiss that left Ella squealing. “It's like watching my parents make out!” But you were met with whistles and claps on the back by other lionesses, who laughed at Ella’s reaction.

“I don’t think you have a choice to be at the next game, babe. Good luck charm of the whole team.” Your girlfriend’s smile was infectious, making you laugh as well, knowing damn well that you would be there at the semi-final even if hell froze over.

[mooshywrites]

hiii could i get a poly gale/astarion/tav where they share a bath together? could be smutty or not, maybe tav and astarion pampering gale and his own man bones?? whatever feels right to u. 💙

Bubbles and Ducks

PolyGn!Reader x Gale x Astarion

Masterlist

Art commissions

─── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ───

─── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ───

A/N - I’m a slut for a good bubble bath, ngl

Warnings - NSFW - Smutty atmosphere, cliff hanger kinda?

─── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ───

You didn’t have to look up from your book when you heard the front door knob start to turn. Astarion was always the first to come through the door, beating your other lover, Gale, home by a half hour or so. Sometimes later if Gale fell far too focused into a new book.

The way the door slammed behind the pale elf, however, did cause you to turn. You looked to the door with furrowed eyebrows, shifting from your spot in the comfortable plush loveseat by the fire. When you met Astarion’s eyes, your heart felt a pang of pity.

Astarion looked exhausted.

“Bad day?” You questioned, making your way towards him. You wrapped your arms around him, feeling how he sluggishly melted into your arms.

“You have no idea, darling.” He muttered. “Who knew a tailor would be in such high demand this time of year.”

“It’s just because everyone knows that you put out the best work.” You stroked his hair, fingers running through the soft white curls.

He only sighed, taking a step back and stretching his arms upwards. You slid his satchel off of his shoulder, rubbing the tense muscles near his neck. The two of you appreciated the moment in comfortable silence, standing in the doorway.

You almost jumped out of your skin when the door knob started to turn again.

“Who is that?” You whispered to Astarion, slightly panicked.

“Gale?” He shrugged, his eyes wide.

“He never gets home this early” You hissed.

The door swung open and you pulled Astarion towards you protectively. You let out a breathy laugh when you saw the brown-haired wizard standing there, looking at the two of you with a confused expression.

“Why are the two of you standing there?” Gale asked slowly.

”What are you doing home so early?” Astarion exclaimed, putting his hands on his hips. “You gave us quite a scare, pet!”

Gale stepped further in and chuckled, landing a kiss on Astarion’s cheek along with yours as a silent apology. “Couldn’t keep my eyes open long enough to read a sentence, let alone tutor a gaggle of mages. Didn’t sleep well last night, I suppose.”

“Looks like that makes me the lover of two tired men.” You mused, looking between them.

“Tired is an understatement.” Gale huffed.

“I quite agree, there has to be a stronger word for what I’m feeling.” Astarion whined.

You crossed your arms over your chest, rolling your eyes at the men’s dramaticism.

“I can run a bath for you?” You offered.

“Will you be joining us?” Astarion prodded curiously. You didn’t like the glint in his eye. You knew all too well that the vampire could be a schemer even with the most mundane of circumstances.

“You can’t expect us to sit and talk to just each other.” Gale agreed.

”Why not? I think the two of you would benefit from some bonding time.” You argued teasingly.

“Gale and I had plenty of ‘bonding‘ time last night. Why do you think he’s so tired?” Astarion smiled triumphantly. “Now, come along, darling. I do believe it’s time for a group bath.”

You didn’t have a split second’s time to argue, the two men hurriedly ushering you off towards the back of the house.

It had taken a bit of work from all three of you to make the bathroom the comfortable relaxing area it was now, Gale had even spent weeks trying to come up with ways to have hot water on demand. You had designed the layout of the place, Astarion decorating the room with the most normal amount of perfectionism you could expect from him.

You had to admit, the end result was beautiful. A large clawfoot tub sat in the corner, sunlight streaming down to kiss the porcelain from the skylight you’d installed. Various potted plants and flowering vines peppered the room, making the room smell every so slightly of spring. It was most definitely your favorite place to unwind.

Astarion and Gale undressed casually, this scenario being one the three of you had repeated many times before. Soft, chaste kisses were exchanged as you helped each other out of the more difficult ties, comfortable silence settling over the room. Other than Gale’s slightly off pitch humming, of course.

You started to run the water, sprinkling dried flower petals as the tub filled to make the water smell sweet. When the three of you finally clambered into the steaming water, Gale let out a sigh of relief.

“See now this is how you relax.” He murmured.

“My idea of relaxing doesn’t involve you running your mouth the whole time, darling” Astarion quipped.

Both you and Gale just chuckled, knowing Astarion didn’t hold any venom in his words. You were sure that the pale elf would miss the wizard talking if he did indeed stop talking. Astarion just couldn’t help but express his love though sarcasm.

“So tell me why your day was so tiring.” You asked, settling back in the warmth.

The two men talked back and forth, going into every detail of their day. You idly traced your fingertip over Gale’s arm while you listened, your other hand interlaced with Astarion’s. The three of your legs tangled together under the water, a mess of limbs to make room for the three of you in the tub.

You closed your eyes, relishing in the simple comfort, not at all listening to whatever Gale and Astarion had started arguing about this time. Instead, you fell into some sort of relaxed trance as you spent time with the men you loved.

“Aren’t I right, darling.” Astarion demanded, pulling you out of your lovesick stupor.

“Right about what?”

“That I’m a better kisser than Gale!” Astarion blurted out.

Gale scoffed, holding his hand up to Astarion incredulously. “Surely you can’t agree with him. All three of us know my lips are the best.”

“Hmm,” You pondered, making it seem as if you were having to think quite hard on which of the two you preferred. “I think I’d have to have a demonstration before I decide for sure.” You said with finality.

Both the men broke out in a grin, Gale’s nose blushing over slightly.

”After you, pet, I insist.” Astarion offered to Gale confidently.

”You don’t have to tell me twice.” The wizard smiled, leaning towards you.

His lips were soft and warm against your own, slightly damp from the steam of the bath. He smelled of the roses and tasted of something sweet, making you melt into his touch. His tongue swept across your bottom lip for a split tease of a moment before he pulled away, leaving you breathless.

When you looked to Astarion, his pupils had widened, his lips parted slightly as he watched the display before him. Gale smirked at his reaction, settling back against the edge of the tub.

”Beat that, then.” Gale grinned.

“I think I shall.” Astarion challenged.

He was much slower when closing the distance between the two of you, his eyes devouring you like you were the first glimpse of pleasure he had ever seen. When his lips finally pressed against your own, he was even more methodically slow. His mouth molded against yours, deepening the kiss ever so slightly with each passing second. Right before he leaned back, his teeth caught at your lip, nipping at the sensitive skin softly.

When he rested back against the edge, your cheeks were flush and your chest full of butterflies. Gale continued to smirk at your reaction, obviously pleased by the position you were stuck between.

”I think.” You started before clearing your throat, the action not at all hiding the new quiver in your voice. “I think I’ll need another kiss or two from both of you. For scientific reasons, of course.”

Gale and Astarion exchanged amused glances before turning their attention back to you, anticipation twinkling in their eyes. They didn't need to be asked again. In perfect synchrony, they leaned in towards you, their lips hovering just inches away from your own.

You could feel the mixture of excitement and nervousness bubbling up inside you as they closed the remaining distance, their kisses now coming together in a sensuous dance. Each one was different yet equally intoxicating — Gale's kiss was tender and filled with affection, while Astarion's held a raw passion that set your heart ablaze.

Time seemed to slow down as you lost yourself in the exquisite sensation of their lips against yours. The room faded away, leaving only the three of you entangled in a web of desire. It was a moment of pure bliss, where nothing else mattered but the connection you shared.

As the kisses deepened, hands roamed freely, caressing and exploring every inch of exposed skin beneath the water's surface. Soft moans and sighs filled the air, mingling with the steam that enveloped your entwined bodies. The boundaries between each individual began to blur, as if you were merging into one entity driven by a singular desire.

In a fleeting moment, a thought flitted across your mind.

There was going to be absolutely no relaxing in this bath, was there?

─── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ───

[eddiestommy]

i saw this post by @shaunashipman and next thing i know i was writing this

(brand new, full throttle) touch me while your boys play grand theft auto

Bucktommy || 878 words || mild sexual content

Read on AO3

Truth be told, it wasn't Buck's fault, honestly. Mostly.

Since the Grant-Nash's house fire and Gerrard became the new interim captain, his 118 family had started a weekly brunch with a rotating hosting system (yes, that had been Buck's idea, thanks for noticing) but after Buck's first turn having them over everyone had agreed that his loft was too claustrophobic with everyone in it so Tommy (sweet, kind, loving Tommy) had offered his house with its big backyard patio with its built-in firepit and grill instead.

So over the summer his family all came together at Tommy's Spanish-style bungalow once every five weeks and really, it wasn't Buck's fault that over those weeks he had started spending more and more time there than in his own loft, sometimes only stopping by his apartment to get more clothes that would eventually end up in the dresser Tommy had built for him on the little workshop he had in his garage tucked between his Muay Thai setup and the car lift, and it really wasn't his fault that he had started thinking about the house as their home even though it was definitely too soon to be thinking like that.

If anything, it was Tommy's fault because that Wednesday morning he had spent forty minutes opening him up so thoroughly with his tongue and fingers that by the time he had finally slipped his cock in him his hole had given no resistance. And it really was Tommy's fault that he'd fucked him fast and hard, Buck's face and chest pressed against the mattress and his ass held up by Tommy's hands marking bruises on his hips, and just as he'd been about to come he had pressed his lips to Buck's ears and growled: "You're such a good boy for Daddy, aren't you? You're gonna cum from Daddy using your loose hole as a fuck toy, huh? Such a perfect boy."

(And really, what else could Buck do but cum so hard he passed out for a minute?)

All this to say that it really wasn't Buck's fault that later that day when he and Athena were washing and drying dishes in Tommy's cozy kitchen he remodelled himself a few years ago and Tommy and Bobby came in with more wine glasses and asked if they were okay washing them or if they wanted them to do it he had felt so comfortable and at home that he didn't stop to think before speaking.

He took the glasses from Tommy and said, "Don't worry, Daddy, I got it," like he would any other day they were together.

(That it took him five seconds in between saying those words and realising what he had just said in front of his dad and his wife was definitely on him.)

The moment he realised his mistake he could feel his heartbeat in his ears. All his blood rushed to his head and heated his face redder than it had ever been.

He barely registered anything else going on. Tommy's panicked stare and tense posture, Bobby's red face, Athena's laugh.

"I think you two can handle the rest of the dishes," she said in between laughs, walking past where Buck and Tommy were still stuck in place.

Buck refused to look up, maybe if he stared at the ground with enough determination a hole would open up and swallow him and he wouldn't have to deal with the fact that his captain and Athena now knew what he called his boyfriend when they were alone.

(And look, if it wasn't because Bobby heard him too he would be laughing with her. He wasn't ashamed of it. He wasn't gonna tell everyone about it but what two consenting adults got going in bed was their own business. Still, there was a difference between embracing your kinks and having your father figure find out about it, there couldn't be anything worse than that.)

"I think," Tommy started in a tentative tone, "we can all agree to forget about this."

"Yeah," Bobby agreed. And God, why was Bobby still here? Had Buck not embarrassed himself enough already? 

"Of course," Buck could hear the amusement in Athena's voice. "But if I'm allowed to say, Buckaroo, there's nothing to be ashamed of. You should hear what Bobby calls me."

(Scratch that. Thinking about Bobby having kinky sex was so much worse. That was his dad.)

And really, it wasn't his fault if Tommy laughed so hard at Bobby's bewildered look that he made Buck forget all about his own embarrassment

"Okay, no more talking," Bobby said. His face was so red it was a wonder any blood was still pumping in his heart. "This never happened. No one ever heard anything."

So really, it wasn't Buck's fault that now his dad knew what kind of names he'd been calling his boyfriend in the intimacy of their own home. And it really, really wasn't his fault he now could imagine the things Bobby called his wife when they were doing it.

(The way Tommy came so hard he blacked out from Buck riding him to the chant of, "Fuck, Daddy, you fill me so well. Love your cock inside me, Daddy" later that evening was entirely his fault, though.) 

[lonelywhalien22]

ten seconds to midnight

pairing: jungkook x gn reader

rating/genre: second chance, fluff + sprinkle of angst or angst + sprinkle of fluff idk lol

summary: it's new year’s eve and you see your ex jungkook again for the first time since you broke up with him.

warnings: time and location are abstract af in this fic so don’t try to piece together distances or a timeline from anything in this; I wrote it in a more poetic fashion – it’s just a *vibe* if you will lol

word count: 4.6k

song(s) to listen to while reading: tis the damn season by taylor swift, ruin by shawn mendes, new year’s day by taylor swift

note: cleaned this up to share while I edit my next longfic – this is something sweet with a sprinkle of midnight angst. if you happen to enjoy this fic you’ll probably like what I have coming next so stay tuned. happy new year’s everyone and i’ll see you all next year <3

Two years.

It had been two years since you and Jungkook had seen each other for the first time in that art history class – had studied together, hung out together, and eventually dated.

Six months.

It had been six months since you'd left suddenly. Unexpectedly.

Six months since those words were flung like daggers between the two of you, as if you’d been in a competition to see who could hurt the other more – who could prove they were less attached than the other was. Pretending as if all of those late nights, whispered confessions, soothing touches, and sweet kisses had meant nothing.

As if in some sort of war, the two of you had thrown, burned, abandoned, and trashed every last remnant of your relationship, overcompensating to try and prove that none of the feelings were real, that the vulnerability was all a lie, and that you'd actually been keeping your shields up all along.

It's the reason you moved further away than you'd originally planned after you graduated - why you’d signed on to the extra work at your job, the extra responsibilities…you’d even gotten a new phone number, claiming you wanted a completely fresh start.

It's the reason why your brief visit home during the holidays this year just wasn’t the same. Why Jungkook didn’t stop by with the rest of his family to drop off gifts or send cards. Why you no longer saw him at the store he always used to frequent at a specific time, the two of you in charge of picking up whatever your respective families had forgotten for Christmas dinner.

It seemed like you and Jungkook had finally succeeded in creating an irreparable chasm between the two of you.

So instead, you spent your short visit home for the holidays nervously traversing the town that still held memories of him. You pushed your cart through the local grocery store in a near state of paranoia, drove around town with the windows up, let others in the house open the door when you got the usual holiday greetings from family and friends.

You didn't miss him, you told yourself.

Even as you chose to go to his mom's favorite grocery store, or mindlessly drove by some of your old spots from when you two had been together - eagerly looked out the window of your old childhood bedroom whenever you heard the doorbell ring.

You didn't miss him.

Now it was New Year’s Eve, and you currently found yourself outside on a fire escape in the chilly night air, high above a city you were still getting to know, at a party you didn't want to be at, terrified to go back inside.

How exactly had that happened?

Let’s take a few steps back.

The New Year’s Eve party was one put together by some old friends from college you’d reconnected with in the area.

None of them felt particularly close, but after spending last New Year’s Eve alone in your tiny studio apartment guzzling down an entire bottle of champagne and falling asleep before the ball had even dropped, you figured you’d try getting out and doing something in the city you were trying to call home for once.

As you walked into the crowded party space, you immediately scouted out the food and beverages area - your trusty diversion ever since you’d been to your first party as an underclassman in college, terribly shy and fearful of large crowds. You could still remember the moment you’d spotted Jungkook from afar for the very first time in a cramped living room all those years ago - laughing with his friends in a corner, his eyes on you for the tiniest of milliseconds before he went back to sipping whatever was in his red solo cup. It was his hands you’d noticed first, the handful of tiny tattoos scattered across his knuckles. You’d been so surprised when he’d said hello to you in a class one semester later, even more so when he’d smiled easily as he admitted to remembering you, the mural of tattoos on his right hand having spread, two new ones on his index finger and another near his wrist.

Back in the present, you grabbed a few cookies and some water, slowly sipping on your beverage of choice as you resolved yourself to silently watching the party from a distance. You were here – that was progress enough wasn’t it?

"Y/n?" you heard someone shout your name eagerly.

You were surprised since you didn't think you knew anyone at this party all that well, but the friendliness of the voice made you perk up.

Turning your head in the direction of the voice, you recognized the owner as an old friend from back home.

"Changkyun?" you exclaimed, shocked.

You hadn’t seen him in forever. He was so tall and almost athletic in his build now, that you almost didn’t recognize him.

"Hey! Wow, long time no see!" he smiled and immediately pulled you in for a hug. It nearly squeezed the surprise right out of you.

You two began a conversation and caught up, laughing over old memories and how much you’d each changed since last seeing the other before he interjected quickly.

"Now that I think about it, pretty sure I saw someone else you know around here..." he pondered out loud, scanning the crowd before he spotted who he was looking for.

"Oh yeah, Jungkook is here. Hey JK!"  you heard Changkyun quickly shout across the crowd towards the center of the room.

Before you could even fully register the name of your ex you glanced over to where your friend was calling, instantly spotting the back of a familiar head of hair, though it was longer than you remembered, the ends curling slightly from the length.

“J-Jungkook..." you repeated quietly, eyes widening as your brain registered what was happening.

"You good?" Changkyun asked, noticing the change in your expression. "Oh shit, wait - you two were together at some point weren’t you? Did I -"

The rest of his words evaporated into nothing but muffled noise as you watched the head of your ex swivel around, searching for the source of the voice that had called his name. He was still as mesmerizing as ever - those big brown eyes and soft lips. His hair fell into his eyes as he turned, and it made your view of him both painfully nostalgic and exhilarating all at once.

He was gorgeous. Just like you remembered.

You stood frozen, eyes wide in admiration, until Jungkook’s gaze singled in on you and broke you out of your trance. Quickly his eyebrows furrowed in confusion before they lifted up softly upon recognizing you. You watched as he mouthed your name, as if he was asking himself whether or not it was really you. But it was all muddled within seconds as you realized your vision was beginning to blur. Your throat dried up and your head began to pound, and finally you realized you were about to cry.

For some inexplicable reason, you were upset.

"Damnit," you muttered to yourself, looking down, a tear slipping down your cheek against your will.

"Y/n, are you ok?" you heard Changkyun ask beside you, but you only shook your head quickly.

"I…I gotta go," you barely managed to choke out before turning away and pushing through the crowd as fast as you could. You quickly reached the front door and tumbled out, searching for the elevator before instead opting to take the stairs rather than risk standing around for any longer.

After wandering around aimlessly for a couple floors you came upon a shaky fire escape entrance and yanked open the doors, cool air slapping your face like a tide in a storm. It brought goosebumps to your skin - the chill of the night breeze, the cool steel grates that scraped against your thighs as you sat down, the hard brick of the wall against your back, but still - you found yourself grateful for the getaway.

You shimmied to the side so you couldn’t be seen from the glass door entrance and tried to make yourself comfortable in the space that remained, your legs slipping into a makeshift crisscross position. It was ridiculously cramped, and probably not at all safe, but at least it was quiet. The isolation gave you a chance to work through some of your thoughts without interruptions from annoyingly drunk partygoers.

"Why did I come here," you whispered to yourself, frustrated.

You knew how much you hated parties, and yet you'd gone anyways, only to find yourself in the very situation you’d been fearing since the holidays had come upon you – trapped with him just steps away and nowhere to run or hide.

You were terrified to face all the damage you’d left behind in your breakup with Jungkook - the stuffed closet full of baggage and hastily thrown together lies that you knew would all come tumbling down if you ever saw him again.

If you were being honest, you'd been running from this very scenario ever since you’d broken up with him. Because somehow, after all this time, he still wouldn't leave your head - his smile, the sound of his laugh, the way he could be incredibly cute but could also make you completely flustered at the flip of a switch.

The way he’d felt like a best friend, a confidante, and a lover all at the same time. How he’d made you feel so loved in a way only he could.

You had searched for that same feeling in others, from the occasional coworker to the random blind date, but no matter how hard you tried you couldn't get yourself to fall out of love with him. And deep down, you think you always knew it. You'd be lying if you said there wasn't some part of you that saw a piece of him in everything you did and everywhere you went. You just couldn't lie to yourself anymore – not after seeing how you'd reacted from just seconds of seeing him in person again.

You took a few deep breaths, staring out at the lights and bustle of the city as your finger trailed longingly up and down one of the steel bars that separated you from the open air. Funny how the rest of the world just continued to go on, even when it felt like your little corner of it was being shaken to no end like a snow globe in a child’s hands.

But watching all the cars and pedestrians below carrying on with their lives – it also helped you put your worries into perspective - helped you keep calm.

Suddenly, your thoughts were interrupted by the cracking open of the fire escape door.

Please don't be a couple, please don’t be a couple, you thought to yourself. The last thing you needed were some handsy lovebirds interrupting your ruminations and reminding you of your own failures in the relationship department.

"Y/n?" you heard someone whisper softly. "Y/n, you out there?"

You’d recognize that voice anywhere - warm and soothing when it was singing along to a song on the radio, smooth and sweet like caramel when it was directed towards you, and immediately your body tensed.

The voice continued to call your name again and again, and you could hear his footsteps shuffling around closer and closer to you in the dark. Folding into yourself and squeezing your eyes shut, you prayed he didn’t notice you, or maybe he’d think you were some stranger - turn around and leave you out here all alone like you thought you wanted.

The footsteps continued until you heard the door open one last time, someone mumbling something too far away for you to hear before banging it shut again. You figured he didn't see you, deciding to look elsewhere, and your shoulders relaxed again.

"Didn't think I’d see you here," you suddenly heard loud and clear.

"Fuck," you shouted, too spooked to really think about it before your reflexes kicked in and you jumped, quickly turning towards the voice. "I thought I was alone out h-"

As soon as you looked up you saw that it was your ex. He stood feet away, one hand still lingering on the fire escape entrance.

"Jungkook."

You mumbled his name, aggravated as he raised a brow at your rare curse.

Quickly, you angled yourself back towards the view of the skyline, shaking your head profusely as you attempted to make him go away.

"I don't wanna see you."

"Believe me, this wasn't really how I pictured spending my night either," he retorted, and you couldn’t even lie - the words felt like a cold knife straight to your heart.

He took just one tiny step forward, hand falling from the rusted metal handle of the door.

"I couldn't just let you go off crying though."

"I wasn't crying," you spat out. It was your roughest voice yet, but Jungkook didn’t even flinch.

"You're still shit at lying," he said with a smirk instead. "We may not be together anymore, but I can still recognize the face you make when you're about to cry."

You wished he’d elaborate so you could practice never making that face again, but he just stood still, glancing back through the window. It both annoyed the heck out of you and made your heart flutter, knowing he could still read you like that.

He took another few steps towards you. Like a giant, his stature towered over you as he continued to stand, his feet careful not to step on your fingers.

"Anyways, you left this," he suddenly said, a chunk of metal entering your view. It was your phone.

How that happened, you had no idea. You must have placed it on a nearby table as you ate, distracted by you conversation with Changkyun. You grabbed it swiftly, careful not to touch his hand in any way, but you still couldn’t help but notice the decorative ink that now danced all over his fingers, the way his skin reddened in the cold.

Did he notice you still used the phone case he’d bought you for your birthday?

"Thanks," you told him curtly instead, avoiding his gaze.

You kept quiet, expecting him to finally go away now that he’d returned your phone but instead the silence lingered, Jungkook’s feet shuffling awkwardly.

“Come back inside Y/n,” he said, tone gentle, the edges of his jawline softening.

“Why?”

Jungkook looked down, shoving his hands into his pockets.

“Changkyun’s worried about you,” he mumbled eventually. “…and besides, it’s dangerous - sitting out here all alone like that.”

“I’ll be fine. No need to worry about me.”

You could feel his frustration brewing as he looked at you in silent incredulity, a cloudy huff leaving his lips in the night air before you felt him sit right down beside you. His denim-clad knee scraped yours just faintly as he settled into a comfortable position. Together the two of you took up nearly all the space on the tiny ledge.

"You want a drink?" Jungkook offered coolly, a cup of red liquid seemingly appearing out of nowhere.

It was tempting, but you hesitated. After all, you weren’t looking to get inebriated while on a shaky fire escape with your ex nearby to bear witness to some sort of embarrassing, drunken confession of longing. You generally preferred to stay sober anyways.

"It's just cranberry juice,” he told you, as if he could read your mind. “They have a bunch of it to mix with the cocktails."

Fuck.

Not only did he remember how much you hated alcohol, but also that cranberry juice was your favorite?

"You're the only person I've ever met who drinks that stuff," he used to always joke.

Back in the present, you took the cup from his hands, finally looking at him to search his face briefly, but his expression gave nothing away. You took a sip to busy yourself.

A blanket of silence fell between you. It wasn’t awkward or even necessarily tense, but it didn't feel like it was truly quiet either. Instead, it was more like there were a bunch of unsaid words bouncing around between the two of you, trying but failing to break out.

"What're you thinking about?" Jungkook asked innocently, looking down at one of his hands before focusing back on the view of the city skyline.

"Nothing," you shook your head tersely, only to hear the tiniest of hums escape his lips out of disbelief.

"So you're outside all alone, staring at the sky in the freezing cold and nothing's wrong? You sure about that?"

You closed your eyes, more and more memories rushing back to you – like the times Jungkook used to find you alone out on the campus green, just sitting with the palm of your hand pressed against your cheek, pouting as you stared at some point in the clouds. Or how he used to poke you on the nose whenever you laid your head in his lap and stared into space, that same pensive look on your face. His words were always the same every single time.

"What're you thinking about?"

It was beginning to drive you crazy the more you thought about it – how, even after all this time apart, he was still able to pick up on little things like that.

And it made you feel even crazier when you thought about the fact that you still remembered those little things about him too.

Trying to keep yourself from becoming any more affected by his words, you tried a slightly more aggressive approach.

"Well maybe I would be fine if I was actually alone."

But he only turned to face you at that remark, another deep sigh escaping his lips.

"Y/n/n.." he used your nickname this time, and he sounded regretful, like your words had actually stung. "Look, I just wanna make sure you're ok."

"I'm am ok," you said back harshly.

Another bout of silence fell between you at that – this one like a cascade of bricks instead of a gentle blanket.

"Why are you acting like I'm the one who did you wrong?" Jungkook piped up, exasperation inching into his voice.

"Last time I checked, I told you I wanted to be left alone."

"You know that's not what I'm talking about,” he said, undeterred by your attempt to change the subject.

You didn’t respond immediately, not ready to talk about your breakup out in the open.

You weren’t sure you'd ever be ready.

"I told you I wanted to experience other places…" you started after a minute or so, quieter than expected. "You know I never wanted to stay so close to home."

"And I get that, but one week?" Jungkook asked incredulously. "How could you only tell me a week before you left? I thought I meant more to you than that."

You huffed out loud in frustration, unsure how to respond.

It was true - you did tell Jungkook about your big move only seven days before you left. You did it out of fear.

Because you were scared.

You and Jungkook had gotten so close after only two years, and you’d never felt that way about a person before - you’d never felt in love.

It scared you - especially when you thought that maybe you were just getting too attached, too quickly.

If there was one thing you hated, it was dependency. Needing someone else felt like an indefensible weakness, and you were afraid that being with him, needing him, would only hold you back.

All you’d wanted was some space to cool off and clear your head - evaluate how you felt from a distance in solitude, like you always did when you felt overwhelmed by your emotions. When you finally did tell Jungkook about the move, you were hoping you two would just dial things down a little - keep in touch remotely while you took some time to think about your life post-graduation.

But instead, the whole thing had turned into one big shouting match.

Hurtful words had been thrown like weapons on both sides, and by the time the dust had settled, you were driving hundreds of miles away.

You’d ignored his calls, deleted his texts, and even refused to listen to appeals from your mother, who still kept in touch with his family. Distancing yourself away from him had only made your worst fears become a reality, and in turn made it even easier to run away from it all rather than confront your fears head on.

Avoidance was the only way you knew how to approach things that were hard - uncomfortable.

And maybe that's why you were sitting here on this damn fire escape in the first place.

"I just wanted some space," you defended yourself.

"But so suddenly? Was there something I did wrong?" he asked you dejectedly.

You turned to look Jungkook in his eyes, and behind his seemingly calm face you could see real pain. You really had hurt him, and in that moment you wished you could tell him the truth – that he hadn't done anything wrong. He'd done everything right, but you just hadn't known how to deal with the intensity of your feelings.

"Did you really have to change your number? Pretend like I didn't even exist?" Jungkook spoke up again.

"That's not fair," you shook your head. "You really hurt me with your words when I finally did tell you."

"Because you broke my heart," he exclaimed, getting visibly upset. "You told me you never loved me - that all of those memories, all those moments we shared...” he looked down for a moment. “You said none of it mattered. That I’d ‘taken it the wrong way.’"

"I didn't mean any of that," you blurted out loud.

"That's what I told myself," Jungkook started, "but what was I supposed to think when you completely cut me out of your life?"

You sniffled silently, unable to come up with any more excuses.

Simply put, you’d both really hurt each other.

As you focused back on all the lights down below, legs beginning to cramp, you felt a curtain of warmth envelop your shoulders.

Jungkook had draped his denim jacket across your body. You couldn’t help but fixate on how the fabric was soft and worn, and it smelled just like him - that same combo of body wash and cologne that you still couldn’t erase from your memory.

"Are you two dating?" you heard him ask quietly.

"What?" you asked, confused before putting two and two together. "Me and Changkyun? No…"

The question took you aback. What did it matter to him anyways?

"I came alone and ran into him unexpectedly," you explained further. "Why are you here?"

"An old classmate invited me," he told you casually, contemplating his next words for a moment before continuing. "I'd be lying if I said I wasn't hoping that maybe I'd see you though..."

You felt your heartbeat quicken at the casual admission, but you didn’t have much time to think about what it meant as he smoothly moved on.

"What about you? I thought you hated parties."

You sighed, hesitant to be so honest but feeling a strange sense of courage regardless.

"Well normally I do, but last New Year’s just...wasn’t all that great," you started.

"How so?"

You took a deep breath before continuing, counting off the reasons on your fingers. "Well, I was alone. And it sucked. I didn't even make it to midnight before I just fell asleep. So I decided this year I'd try going out instead."

"And how's it going?" Jungkook asked, the tiniest hint of a twinkle in his eye. “Tonight, I mean.”

Was he flirting with you right now?

"Not sure yet…" you played along, "but I'm still awake so that's a plus."

Again you sat quietly for a few minutes, neither of you making a move, not a single word shared between the two of you. This time the silence was comforting. You became hyper aware of his knee brushing against your own, and your insides felt so warm that suddenly the cold air didn’t faze you at all.

Maybe, just maybe…

Your quiet stalemate was interrupted when the fire escape door slammed open and the sound of drunken giggles grew louder and louder, a shaggy head of hair sticking itself outside to ogle at the two of you.

"Oh, shoot, looks like this one's taken babe," the random guy shouted in a slurred voice.

"Well hurry up and find somewhere else, I can't wait any loooonger," some poor girl whined, just as tipsy.

They disappeared as quickly as they came, the door shutting with a bang, and you and Jungkook couldn't help but burst out into laughter.

"Was their plan to screw each other on the balcony?" you heard him utter your exact thoughts aloud. Not so innocent memories crept into your mind for a split second before you squashed them.

He's still your ex, you reminded yourself.

"Not sure,” you said instead with a chuckle, “but it certainly looks like we’ve reached that point in the evening where I typically remove myself from the situation."

You pulled your phone out to check the time. "It's midnight,” you realized.

You two had been out there together for over half an hour.

"Guess that means it's time to go, huh?" you heard him ask.

"Yeah…"

Neither of you moved to get up though.

You weren’t expecting to still be with Jungkook at this point, and suddenly you were unsure of what to do. How did one say goodbye to an ex?

How did you say goodbye when you didn't want to?

"Y/n?" Jungkook said your name, pulling you out of your thoughts. You looked at him with bated breath, urging him to continue as fireworks began to go off in the distance.

"Um…" he stalled, clearly trying to find the right thing to say next.

Hating the silence, you improvised, taking off his jacket to give back. The warmth that previously enveloped you disappeared immediately, and it left you feeling strangely empty.

"Here, let me give you back your jacket before I forget."

"Oh…yeah, thanks," he said, a hint of sadness in his voice.

As he leaned over to grab it, you quickly kissed his cheek before backing away and looking down, brushing the hair out of your face.

"Sorry if that was weird," you started, "but I just…wanted to apologize. For everything I put you through back then."

To your surprise, Jungkook shifted a little closer to you, lips pulled into a soft smile as he shook his head. "You don't deserve all the blame. We both said things we shouldn't have, and I'm sorry too."

Butterflies burst free in your belly, and the fireworks that lit up the sky seemed to form a faint outline around Jungkook’s head as he stared at you, eyes boring into your own, keeping you frozen in place.

His hand slipped into yours lightly, and you looked at them for a split second, fingers intertwined in warmth as he spoke. Slowly but surely, you felt yourself drawn towards him in a familiar lure, like a moth to a flame.

Like a wanderer finding their way back home.

"Any chance we could just pretend like it's ten seconds to midnight again?" you asked shyly, and he instantly cracked the biggest smile you’d seen from him all night.

Jungkook said nothing, instead leaning in to kiss you gently.

[hockey-fics]

Then Everything Changed - Matthew Tkachuk

ft. Brady (platonically)

You said goodbye and didn’t ask all the questions you wanted to ask. What does this mean? Does it mean anything? What are we? Are we going to tell anyone?

Word Count: ~4,000

Warnings: drinking

A/N: The ending is pretty bad on this one, I'll admit that. I've been struggling with writing recently so hopefully it's still an enjoyable read!

You met Brady in kindergarten. One afternoon early in the school year he tried to take a book from you and you yelled so loudly your teacher was at your side just a second later. The punishment for both of you was to share the book, which you initially despised the thought of. But it took barely twenty minutes for you and Brady to be laughing and talking as if you hadn’t been screaming at him just moments before. 

You spent a lot of time on the playground together during recess and lunch. Before long you were going to his house and he was coming over to yours. In the process your families grew close as well, your parents finding new friendship with Keith and Chantal. 

Through the years you spent more and more time with Brady, and not always because of your own choices. Going to the Tkachuk family home for dinners with your parents became a frequent occurrence, as was having them over to your own house for dinner. 

You had never thought of Brady as anything more than a friend. In fact, you often thought of him as more of a brother. He would taunt you and tease you but he would be the first to stand up for you when anyone else did it. You trusted him with everything and anything yet you knew he would be the first person to make fun of you for your menial teenage problems. You were in the stands of almost every single one of Brady’s home games, cheering him on at every step of his hockey development. 

No matter how much both you and Brady would deny feelings for each other you were subjected to near constant teasing from your families. You weren’t allowed to be behind closed doors together, despite insisting you would never want to do anything sexual with Brady. When you would go out alone, to the a movie or a restaurant, you wouldn’t hear the end of the comments about it being a date. When prom rolled around neither of you had dates so you went together, as friends, of course, but that only served to add fuel to the fire. 

It wasn’t Brady that you had feelings for you. It wasn’t him, yet everyone was so close to the truth. It was Matthew who you had feelings for. You were fourteen when you realized. You were supposed to be meeting Brady at his house on your way to go bowling with a few other friends. When you got there Brady hadn’t gotten home from an afternoon practice. But Matt was there and he let you in. You sat on the couch while he played video games and you tried to understand the game, hoping that it would impress him. You weren’t sure what he said to you that day but you do remember the way it made your heart race and your cheeks flush. It was that day that you realized your families had been so, so wrong about who you had feelings for. 

Your families remained close through the years. Everyone was on their own journey but that didn’t stop you from spending as much time as you could together when everyone was back in town. 

You never expected anything to happen between you and Matt. By the time you graduated high school Matt was already in Calgary playing for the Flames. Every time you saw each other it seemed to be in the presence of at least one sibling or parent. Siblings and parents who insisted that it was you and Brady who you were supposed to be flirting with, not even considering the possibility of you having feelings for Matt. 

Everything changed one evening in October in 2018. Matt was in St. Louis, playing a game against the Blues. He asked if you wanted to come to the game and you said yes without a moment of hesitation. It wasn’t often that you got to see him or Brady play anymore, with both of them so far from the arenas you used to spend hours in watching them play growing up. They lost the game that night, but that didn’t stop Matt from texting asking if you wanted to come out with him and a few other for drinks after. 

When you showed up to the bar that night something felt different. Brady wasn’t around to be the link between you and Matt. Your parents weren’t there to see you use the fake ID your friend got for you for your nineteenth birthday. There were no comments being made about you and Brady. It was just you and Matt and a group of people who didn’t know the history. 

So you had a few drinks and then a few more. You stuck by Matt’s side and didn’t say anything when he slipped his arm around your waist. You didn’t pull back when he leaned in closer than necessary to talk to you and you didn’t stop him from taking your hand at the end of the night to guide you out and into the Uber that was waiting outside for you. When you got to your apartment you didn’t bat an eye when he got out with you, letting him follow you inside. And when he finally kissed you that night in the dim light of the kitchen you kissed him back without hesitation, your hands grasping at him with five years of built up feelings. 

He left early the next morning to get back to the hotel and onto the bus to continue on with the road trip. You wished it had been as easy as you made it seem. You said goodbye and didn’t ask all the questions you wanted to ask. What does this mean? Does it mean anything? What are we? Are we going to tell anyone? You kept it together till he was long gone and then you let yourself fall into a mess on the couch, mind swirling with frantic thoughts that you didn’t know how to slow. 

Nothing came from that night. At least not until Christmas of that year. You were having friends over for a pre-Christmas celebration on the 23rd. Brady wasn’t in town yet but Matt was. You extended the invitation, half expecting him to say no. But he turned up at your door in his ugliest Christmas sweater with drinks in one hand and a White Elephant present in the other. He stayed the whole night, fitting in easily with your friends. When everyone was beginning to trickle out of your apartment at the end of the night Matt hung around, exchanging glances with you that you were certain were holding some sort of meaning. It didn’t take long for you to realize you were right, when the last of your friends left and Matt had you pressed against the closed front door, his lips on yours. You let it happen again, knowing the turmoil it put you in the last time you slept with him. But in that moment it didn’t matter. 

Things continued on in the same fashion for years. Summers and Christmas breaks and any other chance to see each other. You would sneak away when you could, away from the prying eyes of your families and their speculations. Questions were never asked and answers were never given. You didn’t know what any of meant, didn’t know if you had a right to feel jealous when you thought of Matt being with other women when he went back home. But when he was there with you it didn’t matter so much, your mind forgetting about those thoughts during the moments with him. 

August 2023

“Do you want a coffee?”

Pulling your headphones out you look up at Matt, waiting for him to repeat himself. You watch him shake his head, chuckling to himself. “Do you want a coffee?”

“Are you buying?” you joke, smiling up at him from where you were sitting in the slightly uncomfortable airport seat. 

“Just get up,” Matt mutters, rolling his eyes. 

“You’re not just going to get it for me?” Sighing you push your suitcase towards Brady, sitting a couple seats down from you. “Will you watch my stuff while I go get coffee with Matt? He needs a babysitter.”

“If you get me one too,” Brady tells you, barely looking up from his phone. 

“Fine,” you huff, standing up you follow Matt down the corridor of the airport. You remain in silence till you’re standing in front of the coffee kiosk, not that you were surprised, it was barely 6 in the morning. After ordering your own coffee you order one for Brady, Matt swooping in to order his own and pay for all three. 

“So how’s this going to work?” Matt asks suddenly as you walk to the end of the kiosk to wait for the drinks. 

Furrowing your eyebrows you turn your attention to Matt, folding your arms over your chest. “How’s what going to work?”

“Us,” Matt says with a shrug.

“What us, Matt?” you whisper, glancing around nervously. “It’s not a big deal, just be normal.”

Matt nods slowly, parting his lips to say something before being interrupted by the barista calling his name. Spinning around he takes his drink from her with a quiet thanks. Taking your own drink and Brady’s you follow after Matt who was walking noticeably faster. Back at your gate you hand Brady his coffee, seeing Taryn and Chantal had gotten back from getting breakfast. At least the increase in people allowed some of the tension between you and Matt to dissipate. 

It takes what feels like forever to board the plane, shuffling slowly to your seat next to Brady. You fall back asleep quickly, the caffeine in the coffee doing nothing to combat the meager 3 hours of sleep you got the night before. When you wake up again Brady is gently shaking you. Inhaling a sharp breath you pull your head off of Brady’s shoulder, sleepily glancing around the plane. 

“Sorry,” you mumble tiredly, realizing the plane was already landing. It was only a four hour flight but you sure hadn’t meant to use Brady as a pillow for the entire trip. 

“Don’t worry about it,” Brady chuckles. “At least you won’t be cranky all afternoon now.”

“I’m never cranky,” you defend with a giggle that says everything anyone needed to know. You did have a bit of a track record of getting cranky if you didn’t get enough sleep. “I can’t wait to get off this plane.”

“You haven’t even been awake for any of it, why are you complaining?”

“I’m not complaining,” you tell him with a yawn. “I’m just excited to get to the resort. Did we decide if we were going to the beach or the pool this afternoon?”

“I don’t think so,” Brady replies with a shrug. 

Leaning across the aisle you tap Matt’s arm, getting his attention. You watch him pull his headphones off, looking over at you with a cold stare. “Did we, um, are we going to the pool or beach today?”

“Don’t know,” Matt mutters, quickly pulling his headphones back on and looking away from you again. 

Your eyes don’t leave him immediately, stunned by his dismissive response. Sure you were asleep for the last four hours but what could possibly have happened in the span of a few hours to warrant that response? You try to shake it off, put it out of your mind for the time being. From the plane to the airport to the resort you focus on Brady, making conversation to distract yourself from the sinking feeling your exchange with Matt had left you with. 

Your room is across from Matt and Brady’s room that they agreed to share, just down the hall from the rooms occupied by everyone else on the trip. After changing out of your less than summery airplane outfit you text Matt, asking him to come over. You needed to figure out what was going on before you drove yourself crazy trying to make up an answer. He’s at your door just a few minutes later. 

“Hey,” you whisper. “Is something wrong?”

Matt walks into your room, leaning against the desk by the patio, his eyes focused on something unseen to you on the carpet in front of him. “No.”

“Okay,” you mumble, walking closer, slowly, hesitantly. “Are you sure? Because you’re kind of being a dick.”

“I am?” Matt snaps, whipping his head up to look at you. 

Flinching at his sudden change in demeanour you fold your arms over your chest. “Yes?” 

“Why does it even matter? I mean, it’s not a big deal, we don’t need to spend time together.”

“What are you even talking about, Matt?” you exclaim, shaking your head in helpless confusion.  

“I’m talking about you being all cuddly with Brady right in front of me. Your parents even got some cute pictures…maybe you can show them at your wedding.”

“Oh my god,” you groan, laughing coldly. “Are you serious?”

“Yes, I’m serious. My parents have spent the last like twenty years basically planning your wedding with my brother and you’re not going anything to stop it even though we’ve been fucking for five fucking years.”

“What do you want me to do, Matt? I’ve spent my whole life telling everyone that I don’t have feelings for him, it’s not my fault that nobody wants to listen to me.”

“Something,” Matt exclaims. “Anything, I don’t know, but it feels pretty shitty just having to sit around while they talk about you two like that.”

“I’m sorry, I really am. I don’t know what to do though, he’s my best friend, I’m not going to stop spending time with him because it makes you jealous.”

“That’s not-,” Matt begins before letting out an annoyed sigh. “That’s not what I’m asking and you know that.” 

You’re silent for a few minutes, trying to wrack your brain for something to say. Before you have the chance Matt is heading for the door, leaving your room without another word. After gathering a few of your things you head across the hallway, knocking on the hotel room door across from you. 

“What do you want?” Matt mutters after pulling the door open. 

“Where’s Brady?”

“Of course.” Matt steps to the side, opening the door further to let you step inside. 

“Stop,” you whisper, shaking your head. “You’re being an asshole.”

“Just go talk to your boyfriend,” Matt whispers, nodding towards the other side of the room where Brady was rifling through his suitcase for something. 

Rolling your eyes you walk across the room, plopping down on the bed next to Brady’s suitcase. “Are we going to the pool?”

“Yeah, if that’s what you want to do,” Brady replies, pulling a white t-shirt from his suitcase. “I think one of the pools has a swim-up bar.”

“You know me so well,” you tell him, laughing quietly. You watch him pull the hoodie he was still wearing from the flight off, tossing it onto the bed. Quickly averting your gaze your eyes meet with Matt, noticing the way his jaw was clenched, glaring in your direction. Sighing you keep your eyes off of Brady, despite having seen him in much less many times in your life. 

After everyone is ready you head down to the pool, tugging your clothes off to leave you in the blue bikini you had bought just days before the trip. When you turn around to face the pool you notice Matt staring, his gaze dipping much lower than your eyes. Rolling your eyes you walk in his direction, glancing over your shoulder to make sure everyone was preoccupied behind you before reaching out and resting your fingers on Matt’s bare torso. “If you’re going to look at me like that you really need to start being nicer to me.”

A shaky breath leaves Matt’s lips as he reaches down, his hand folding over your fingers and pushing them off his body. “I’m not doing this with you.” He turns around a second later, sitting down on one of the empty lounge chairs nearby, pulling his phone out and not so much as glancing in your direction again. 

A few minutes later you’re getting into the pool with Brady and Taryn, trying to make the most of the trip even if Matt was making that difficult. At the swim-up bar you order a shot and a cocktail, a recipe to begin forgetting about the conflict with Matt as quickly as possible. The three of you remain in the pool through a few more drinks before finding a few empty lounge chairs, not for a moment running out of things to talk about, especially once the alcohol hits your system. 

The afternoon slips by quickly, leading to dinner at one of the restaurants on the resort. You’re fighting to seem sober as you stare at the menu, reading the words printed on it though you’re not really processing them. 

“You okay?” Brady asks. 

Turning your head you look over at him, nodding quickly before giggling. “There’s too many choices.”

“Have another margarita, this could be a really fun dinner,” Brady teases. 

“Shut up,” you whine, looking back down at the menu. “I’m getting the tacos.”

“Good choice,” Brady tells you with a chuckle. 

Closing the menu you reach for your glass of water, your eyes locking with Matt where he was sitting across the table from you. “Are you having a good time, Matt?”

“Yup, a great time,” he mutters, picking up his drink and finishing the rest of it in one large gulp. 

Rolling your eyes you take a sip of your water before focusing on the conversation that the rest of the table was involved in. By the time dinner is over the evening had turned to night and your parents as well as Chantal and Keith head back to their rooms. After a quick discussion the rest of you decide to head to the lounge for a few more drinks. You order another margarita, finding a table with Brady, Taryn, and Matt. You talk for awhile, Matt choosing to ignore you most of the time. 

When you head to the bar for another drink Matt leaves the table as well, disappearing somewhere into the dimly lit lounge. You order a margarita, leaning against the bar while you wait for it. As you do your eyes scan down the length of the bar, stopping when you see Matt. Matt and a woman you didn’t recognize. Matt and a woman who was laughing a little too hard at whatever he was saying. Matt and a woman who suddenly had her hand on his forearm, smiling up at him with a look that you’re sure you’d given Matt a number of times yourself. Swallowing heavily you take the drink the bartender had placed in front of you, weaving your way down the bar towards Matt. 

“Sorry,” you say, aiming it towards the woman beside Matt. “Can we um, can we talk?” you ask Matt. 

“I’m kinda busy,” Matt mutters, his eyes falling to the drink he was holding on the bar. 

“Matt,” you whisper, your voice wavering. “Please.”

Matt turns his head, his eyes softening when he looks at you. “Okay,” he tells you, sliding off the barstool he was sitting on. “It was nice to meet you,” Matt tells the woman he was talking to. “Maybe I’ll see you around,” he adds before turning and placing his hand on your lower back. He guides you around the bar and out into the quiet evening. 

You stare up at him, both of you silent, uncertain. You try to think of something to say but you didn’t know what you should say. Should you apologize for pulling him away from another woman? Should you tell him that your feelings for him were far beyond casual? Should you offer to tell everyone the truth? Before you can say anything Matt is pulling you closer, leaning down and kissing you. He tastes like rum and his hands are firm on your body. Your own hands slide up over his chest, arms resting on his shoulders. “Let’s go to my room,” you mumble against his lips. 

Matt agrees quickly, taking your hand and letting you pull him through the resort and back to your hotel room. You don’t exchange any words, not on the way there and not in your room. You let your actions speak for you, letting Matt pull your clothes off, stumbling through the room and onto the bed. You don’t get much further before there’s a pounding at your door. Scrambling to your feet you tug on enough clothes to answer it, opening just enough to the see Brady standing in the hallway. 

“What the hell?” he exclaims. “You just left? We couldn’t find you anywhere. Do you know how worried I was?” 

“I-,” you begin, stunned by the panicky look on Brady’s face. “I’m sorry, I didn’t…I didn’t think it was a big deal, I just…I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine,” Brady breathes out, shaking his head. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine. I just, um, think I need to get some sleep.”

Brady nods, reaching over and pulling you into a hug. “Goodnight,” he whispers. 

“Goodnight, Brady,” you tell him, waiting for him to head into his room before shutting your own door. Sighing quietly you head back to the bed, flopping down next to Matt, the mood very different after the interruption. 

“I love you.”

Your eyes widen when you hear those words. Turning your head you focus on Matt, your breathing shaky. “What?”

“I love you,” Matt repeats, reaching over and sliding his hand into yours. You’re certain he’s drunk but his words are sincere. He’s sitting up a couple minutes later, climbing off your bed. “I’ll see you tomorrow morning.”

You watch him leave your room, pulling your legs up to your chest, frozen in place while you let his words truly sink in. Love. He loved you. Those words play in your mind, over and over till you’re curled up in your bed, trying desperately to fall to asleep. Eventually sleep takes over and you don’t wake till your vibrating phone tugs you out of your slumber. Fumbling through the blankets on the bed you turn the screen to your eyes, pressing answer on the call from Brady. 

“Good morning,” Brady says with a chuckle, knowing that he had woken you up. “We’re down at the buffet for breakfast if you want to get out of bed and join us.”

“I’ll be down soon,” you mumble tiredly. After getting ready as fast as your tired, hungover body could handle you find your way to the buffet. There’s a spot next to Matt and you hover around the entrance to the restaurant, your mind swirling with thoughts again. Slowly you approach the table, sinking down into the seat beside Matt. 

“Good morning,��� Matt says, his voice quiet, uncertain. It’s obvious he’s unsure about where he stood with you after his confession the night before. 

Leaning closer you bring your hands to the sides of his face, pulling him in and kissing him gently. “I love you too,” you whisper, quiet enough that you’re sure he’s the only one that will be able to hear you. 

When you pull back the table is silent, surprised glances being exchanged and you reach over, grasping Matt’s hand. “Hold on,” Brady mutters, shaking his head. “What is going on?”

Your cheeks flush with warmth, looking over at Matt. “I don’t know,” you admit. “What is going on, Matt?”

“Maybe if we had that conversation back at the airport I would know,” Matt teases. 

“Airport?” Brady exclaims. “How long has this been going on?”

Your cheeks flush deeper, looking over at Matt. “Since, um, like Matt’s third year in Calgary.”

“Holy shit,” Taryn mutters, eyes darting back and forth from you to Matt. “All those years thinking you and Brady were going to be together.”

“Definitely time to move on from that,” you announce, hoping that everyone would get the message loud and clear. You feel Matt run his finger over the back of your hand and you squeeze his hand gently, reassuringly.

There were still many unanswered questions but at least now you were comfortable in knowing that you would get the answers you were looking for. 

[sweetestlamb]

Fire Meet Gasoline

Summary: Im Sol and Sun Jae spend some quality time together.🤭

Author's note: I can't believe I haven't written anything in this long(sorry to those of you waiting on incomplete stories life got real😩) but this drama took me by surprise and I physically couldn't stop myself from producing this filth so I hope you enjoy this offering.

The bright ring of her laughter makes his heart feel too small for his chest as he tries his hardest not to stare at her, fill himself up on her presence and still feel starved for more.

He has no clue what exactly they're watching but Sol's persistent giggles are enough to make it his new favorite show. He leans back into the plush cradle of his couch eyes straight ahead but his focus solely on the woman next to him.

It still feels like a dream. He's been pathetically pining for her for years but never expecting anything to manifest from his one sided feelings. So her sudden unprovoked confession was a thunder bolt straight into his heart.

I liked you too.

How could that have been the case? He had long accepted that she would never be his, cried over it, yelled about it to anyone who would listen and then forced his feelings down into a dark hole in his chest. Never to be realized but now everything had changed.

"Sun Jae? Are you listening? Do you want to watch something else?"

He staggers from his thoughts, eager to have a reason to place his gaze on her pretty face. That pretty face that has captivated him for years effortlessly. Those pretty lips that are always taunting him, begging to be kissed, bitten, soothed and then tormented all over again.

"Are you not feeling well? You're turning so red. Do you need to lay down?" She leans closer now invading his space and the television is a murmured drone in the distance now. He drinks her up like an oasis in the desert, eyes trembling shut as she lifts her hand to press against his forehead.

Her skin is buttery soft and he's been longing to be touched by these very hands for so long that instinctively he nuzzles in deeper, desperate for all he can get. Still terrified that he'll wake up and this will have been a dream, a fantasy concocted by his desperate heart.

So he latches on, if this is all a dream he's going the make the most of every second he's allowed to be with her.

Her eyes are wide as she gazes at him shocked by his boldness he assumes. That's her usual reaction and he's grown used to it although it confuses him at times, he sometimes finds her looking at him like she's in disbelief too.

He moves closer, hesitating for only a minute before getting confidence from the way she stills and blinks up at him as if waiting for his next move. He watches hungrily as she gulps nervously but not once does she move away or look away from his heated stare.

Her waist feels infinitely small in his soft grip and he flushes at the strip of bare skin he feels, his thumb brushes her warm skin in a gentle sweep.

"Sun Jae...."

His name has never sounded sweeter.

The palm that was previously on his forehead slips down to cup his cheek and he feels a similar sensation on his warm flesh.

"I should go home soon."

He can hear the clear reluctance in her voice and that brings a smile to his face. They've spent so much time together since revealing their feelings but it's never enough for him and he's elated that Im Sol feels the same.

"Why are you smiling like that?"

He shrugs pretending to be aloof. Before he tugs her closer and drags one of her legs over his lap.

He's eager to feel her weight on him again, last time they made out here she'd crawled onto his lap like she belonged there and almost short circuited the electricity to his brain. But this time he was prepared and he wasn't shy to make the first move.

"I'm thinking about last time."

Her blush is immediate. He wonders how far down it goes....

"Stop. Stop looking at me like that." She mumbles glancing away.

As if he could. He's been controlling himself all these years, it feels like a dam has burst now and he knows there is no possible way to go back to his tethering self control.

"How am I looking at you? Hmmm?" He teases and he sees the exact moment that she decides she's tired of this game. Her shyness never lasts for long in these situations.

"Are you teasing me?"

"What if I am?"

"That would be mean." She pouts prettily knowing exactly what that wobbling bottom lip does to him.

"I'm sorry. I'll be nice."

And she grins at his acquiesce thinking that she's won and he allows her a few minutes of uninterrupted glee before lifting her the rest of the way and plopping her in his waiting lap in one smooth motion.

"Sun Jae!" She squeaks in surprise but he notes the way that she moves even closer while making herself comfortable and the way that her hands settle on his shoulders.

"Aren't I heavy?"

He scoffs at her question, leaning up until their faces are mere inches apart.

"Don't be ridiculous. I could stand up right now and still hold you with no problem."

And he can see her imagining that very scene, from the way that her cheeks brighten and her pupils dilate.

"Oh. Do you want to see Im Sol?"

He's only teasing, there's no way that she'll actu-

"Yeah. Do it. Show me."

And now he's the one in complete shock.

She's always been beautiful to him. Pure. Sweet. Innocent.

But right now the only word he can think of to describe the look on her face is sexy. Seductive even.

"Are you serious?"

"Mmmhmm. Show me, please." She begs so prettily.

Fuck.

He's hard.

He needs to get her off his lap. He can feel the throbbing and he knows that her words are affecting him. The last thing he wants to do is scare her away.

"You....um. I'll drive you home. Come on, let's go."

He starts to move her off his lap but then she grinds down and he knows that it's too late, she's felt him. In a way that no other has before her.

He tries not to let shame overcome him.

But he closes his eyes not wanting to see her reaction to his lust for her. They haven't yet discussed this part of their relationship and he doesn't want to pressure her or reveal that he's never done this before, any of this.

He's inexperienced and it feels pathetic.

Alas he's so lost in his head that it takes a few moments to realize what's happening in his own lap.

"What are.... what are you doing?!"

She doesn't answer him with words but her hips never stop, swiveling and grinding, side to side and then back and forth.

"Wait! Stop Im Sol, you don't have to-"

"I don't want to stop. Can't I do this?"

No. His brain screams. She can't do this because it's going to end in his embarrassment. He's already close and she's barely even begun.

"Yeah, you can. Do whatever you want."

Somehow those are the words that leave his mouth. His body incapable of denying her anything she desires.

She smiles sweetly at him before dipping down and placing a chaste kiss on his lips.

It's not enough.

His grip on her waist tightens as he reaches to meet her and kiss her as if it's his last chance. His tongue meets no resistance as he presses against her lips, plunging into her sweet hole eagerly.

She moans softly wrapping her arms around his shoulder even tighter, melting into him as their kissing intensifies and he grows harder at the noises she makes as she continues to torture him.

They need to cool down. But there's only gasoline in the room.

He pushes her sweater up, desperate to feel her skin and almost loses his sanity when she does the same, tugging his tucked shirt out of his pants.

"You must work out a lot to have a body like this." She whispers as she runs her small hand over the dips in his abs.

He groans deeply into her neck, unable to contain himself now with passion washing over him in deep waves. He bucks up into her jeans covered warm center and simultaneously grabs her ass forcing her down onto him harder, more intentional. He wishes there was nothing between them, that he could spread her wide open and just thrust until they were both spent.

They are a tangle of limbs at this point, grinding into each other as if their lives depend on it.

And her breasts are right there in front of his face. Small but enticing all the same. He can see her nipples peeking through the material of her sweater and that must mean she's not wearing a bra. She must be trying to kill him and he wants to rip her sweater over her head and see them, taste them, fill his hands with them.

Giving her ample time to stop him he trails his hands up her side, stopping just below her ribcage. When all she does is moan louder and rock down onto him he takes that as her response.

He starts with only his thumb, rubbing across the pebbled nub lightly through her sweater at first and then harder as she pushes her chest forward.

"You're perfect." He whispers in awe, cupping her fully now the weight of her perky breasts sheer perfection in his hands.

He wants to feel them with nothing in between them.

He realizes with a jolt he wants to.... have sex with her.

All his group members had teased him for years about his lack of sexual drive. They all had thousands of women throwing themselves at them daily but he never looked at any, never took them up on their offers no matter how eagerly they begged him to use them. They said filthy things to him but never before had anyone gotten him this hot and ready.

He was a virgin by choice.

But now he finally understands the appeal.

He squeezes her breast with his left hand and starts to lift her sweater with his right, their eyes locked as he slowly starts to undress her. It feels like he's been starving and now he can finally eat.

He takes in each inch of skin that is revealed bit by bit, hungry to see her naked breasts.

Bzzzzz bzzzzzz bzzzzzz.

Bzzzzz bzzzzzz bzzzzzz.

He drops her shirt.

She looks beautifully dazed but then she realizes that it's her phone that interrupted them.

He groans as she frantically searches for it while still on his lap.

She answers with a sigh and pure regret in her eyes.

He can hear her mother's agitated voice though the tiny speakers and he knows that this forbidden moment is all but over.

In his head he knows that this is probably for the best, they were moving way too fast but the selfish horny side of him wishes that he had thrown the phone far away. Images of her naked body undulating on his hard length all flash through his mind.

"I should go."

"Yeah."

But neither one of them move. Too revved up to process what just happened.

"Ummm did we almost.... were we about to...??"

She's a beautiful mess, hair disheveled, lips plush and red, clothes skewed and he wants to mess her up even more. Wants to watch sweat drip down her back as he pounds into her from behind.

And damn that's new, he's never been this desperate for it before.

"I wanted to."

He's honest. Still too raw to be anything but in this moment.

"You did?"

Hadn't that been obvious, hell it's still obvious as he hasn't gone down yet.

"You're literally sitting on my....."

She blinks. He bucks.

"Oh. Oh!....yeah but that's a natural...human reaction. You can't control it even if you didn't want to.....do that with me."

"It's only ever happened with you. No one else."

Her eyes brighten more if that's even possible.

"Wait do you mean...?"

He gulps nervously but he can't lie to her.

"Yeah I've never done this with anyone. Just you."

"Just....me. Then let me give you a gift."

He tilts his head at her statement before he almost chokes on his own tongue.

Quicker than lightning hm she grabs both his hands and pulls them hard forcing them under her shirt and onto her naked chest.

"Fuck."

She rubs his palms across her nipples.

"Touch me."

And he needs no other encouragement. He goes wild, pinching her before soothing her hot skin with soft caresses. She lets him play with her, pushing her chest out and giving into his rough treatment.

And then just as suddenly she stands up.

"That's enough for tonight."

It's like a bucket of cold water has been thrown over his head.

"I'm going to use the bathroom first." She runs from the room and he watches in stunned silence.

But then he notices the stumble in her walk. As if her knees are weak. She grips the wall tightly as she escapes.

He lets out a weak chuckle.

What are they getting into and will they be able to survive it?

[redlittlefoxari]

Astarion Epilogue:An Adventure in Making Life: Chapter Two: In Sickness and in Health

Warnings: Blood, Smut, Violence, NSFW 18+, Fluff, Angst, pregnancy

Relationships: Astrion x Tav

Summary: It’s been a month of bliss while you and Astarion have taken time off from your adventuring. All is well until suddenly, Tav is hit with a mysterious illness, and Astarion runs to find help in the form of an old Druid that lives down the road. Jaheira.

Master List

Astarion kept to his word. It has been a month since you came back from the last adventure and so far it looked like you were staying put in Baldur’s gate for a little while longer than usual, which was a lovely rest of always being on the move. Four weeks of blissful, boring, mundane living. You didn’t have to sleep on the ground, you got to go to bed every night after a nice warm bath, and best of all you got to see domestic Astarion. And while he would never admit it Astarion was enjoying his peaceful nights curled up with you in his lap, both of you reading the books the two of you picked out.

Since the start of the four weeks, after the night of passion you had on your soft feather bed, you had been able to read eight books. Only two of them were cursed, but that was nothing a simple counterspell couldn't fix. The rest were books that Gale over the years had recommended to you or had appeared in your home after he had teleported them to you. As you pulled another book from your shelf, you made a mental note to visit the old wizard. He was getting up there in years and you and Astarion needed to make time to see him before he left the material plain and entered the afterlife.

Your home felt quiet as you contemplated everything you had missed over the last fifty years. Not that the time you spent with Astarion was a waste, but you had missed so much of your friends' lives. Besides the random letter, it had been years since the last you all got together and talked. Before you and Astarion set off on your next adventure you were going to sit down with him and make him see everyone before the two of you set out.

That would have to wait as Astarion had set out earlier looking for your next adventure. Astarion had stated before he left an hour ago that he was going to the local tavern to see if there was any news on anything going a miss around the city or just outside. He asked if you wanted to come with him, but you politely declined. Not that you didn’t want to go, but you weren’t feeling your best at the moment. Not that you would tell him that. No need for him to worry over anything so trivial. It was probably just a cold anyway. Your muscles ached especially around your chest; you felt dizzy if you stood up too fast, and nausea plagued you all this week. You felt confident that all you needed was a week more of rest and you would be over this cold and ready to set out on whatever adventure Astarion had found.

You were sitting by the fire catching up on book number nine when your stomach alerted you to how hungry you were. Since the nausea you took to eating very light for fear that your stomach wouldn’t agree with whatever you were eating and quickly return it to the outside of your body. Which would cause Astarion to make a fuss over you and make you see a healer for something that would only be around for at most another week. It's better to save your time and money and just eat light for a few more days.

You placed your book down on the table beside your chair and slowly started to stand when all your blood seemed to rush to your head all at once and you swayed. You found your center of gravity and caught yourself before you toppled over and greeted the floor with your body. That didn’t stop the room from spinning however as you reached up with your left hand to see if the sensation of touch would make everything stop spinning.

Instead, you found that you were hot. “Hells now a fever has set in…. Just what I needed.” You said a loud talking to empty air. “The second Astarion touches me he's going to know I’m sick and make me go see a healer.”

You slowly started towards a bucket of cool water you had drawn earlier to do some laundry and instead thought about using it to calm this fever. With every step you took, it felt as if the bucket was getting further away. Your breaths became more labored and your vision became more blurry. It was also by this point you thought that something else was going on besides a cold. No cold in your long life ever felt like this. Elves didn’t often get sick but when they did it still wasn’t anything compared to this. This felt like your life was being sucked from your very body and at any moment you would lose conciseness and no one would be around to help you.

“Maybe I should have just gone to see the damned healer.” You said out loud a thought would do you no good now.

You felt bile rising from your stomach. You were over-exhausting yourself and empty stomach or not something wanted to come up and it was not going to be pleasant. With one hand on your head and the other clutching your stomach you fell to your knees all your strength gone from a journey that seemed like a mile but was only a few feet. Your breaths were short and labored coming in hard drags that burned your lungs.

“Did I forget to cursed book?” The sound of your own voice was the only thing that was keeping you from passing out completely. So you voiced all the little things you thought could be going on with you. “Maybe I’m too weak from not eating anything.”

The food you knew was in the house was about fifteen feet away from you too far for you to get if just a few feet did this to you. Your mind started to spin faster as panic set in. Your heart began to beat a thunderous rhythm. fear gripped your heart as you feared what was happening to you and if you were going to be okay at the end of all this.

“ASTARION!” You started to scream his name in hopes that he was close enough to hear you. Close enough to come and save you from whatever was going on. Close enough to take you to that healer you so desperately didn’t want to see but feared that if you didn’t you were going to die. “PLEASE! ATARION! I DON’T WANT TO DIE!”

You felt tears stinging your eyes and a burn in your throat as bile flowed up your throat and landed on the floor in front of you. Suddenly, the floor was coming up to meet you and the last thing you remember was hearing the hard, wet smack of your head as it met the floor and you lay in the pool of your own bile.

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

Astarion felt proud of himself as he walked the street of Baldur’s Gate he had found three leads on adventures that you and he could go on. One about a dwarf that had gone missing by Neverwinter, another about a dragon's hoard, and another about quite a few people going missing near Ravenloft. He would let you choose since you were the one that asked for the break and you would be more likely to pick one that you were interested in.

As he walked Astarion took his time soaking in the sun on his skin and making up for the time he spent in the dark. It may have been fifty years since he broke free of his chains and took back his life but Astarion still feared it could all be taken away from him. He felt for the ring on his left ring finger at least twenty times a day just to be sure it was still there. Without the ring, his days in the sun were over and he would be forced to return to the shadows.

You wouldn’t let that happen to him. You were the one who searched day and night for weeks for any word, news, or myths about anything that could help him walk in the sun again. Astarion didn’t know what he would have done without you and what he would do when you were long dead and he was left to wander this plain along once more. The thought caused Astarion’s chest to grow tight and he quickly shook the thought away. You were a high elf and were in the prime of your life. That was something he didn’t have to think about for a long while.

To get the thought of death out of his mind Astarion decided to pick up some of your favorite fresh flowers and something light for you to eat. Despite you trying your best to hide it he noticed that you hadn’t been eating much and what you did eat was fruits, broth, and occasionally some bread. He didn’t want to fuss over you because he knew you didn't like when he did and would shrug off all attempts of him trying to get you to see a healer. So, he kept a close watch. He made an exception today because he noticed there were only a few apples in the home and he wanted to get you something to eat without making a fuss.

Astarion walked through the local flower shop and was greeted cheerfully by the shopkeeper. “Astarion! Come to buy some flowers for that lovely wife of yours?”

You and Astarion never formally got married but the ring on his left hand left no question that he belonged to someone. “Of course, it’s how I get her to fall in love with me every time I walk through the door.” He flashed a smile that would make any woman or man swoon.

“You are too much Astarion. Let me just wrap them up for you.” She began wrapping the flowers while Astarion paced around the shop.

A sudden feeling of dread laid host in Astarion’s stomach. He got the sense someone was screaming his name and not in the normal way he liked hearing his name screamed. This was desperate, pleading…. scared. Astarion started moving towards the door slowly and with caution something was wrong he needed to get home as soon as possible.

The shopkeeper walked over to Astarion and handed him the flowers. “Here you go, love. On the house.”

“I’m sorry Ida… I’ll have to come back for the flowers something is wrong.” Astarion busted through the front door and sprinted toward home without ever looking back at Ida.

Astarion makes quick work of weaving through crowds of people and making his way through the streets of Baldur’s Gate to make it home to you. All the while the closer he got to home the stronger the panic grew in his chest. He knew his eyes were fully dilated and that he conveyed a sense of desperation. On his way back home people took one look at him rushing towards them and gave him a wide birth. A walk that would usually take thirty minutes only took Astarion ten as he stood at the front door of the home you two shared dripping sweat and taking in large gulps of breath.

Astarion flung the door open and when he didn’t see you immediately he felt the blood drain from his face. “Where are you? Say something!” He stepped through the door and the smell of bile hit him. Walking further into the room he found you face down in a pool of your own bile. “No!”

He was at your side in an instant, picking you up out of your bile and having you lay limp in his arms. “Wake up damn you!” He shook you not enough to cause harm but hopefully enough to wake you enough to open your eyes. But your eyes didn’t open. “Damn you. Don’t you dare leave me!” He cupped your face with his right hand and flinched at the heat coming off your skin. “Why didn’t you tell me you were this sick?”

You moaned in response to his question and Astarion let out the breath he didn’t realize was holding. Knowing that at the very least you were coherent enough to respond to him he picked up your body and carried it to the bed laying it down gently.

“I’m going to go get the only healer I know that will get you to listen.” Astarion turned his back to you lying on the bed and started to walk towards the door again. “I’ll be right back she’s not far.”

Atarion ran through the streets once more but this time a few blocks away from the home you shared with him. The home he was making his way towards was near the upper city gate and covered in Ivy, adding a layer of the rare forest in the city of Baldur’s Gate. He wasted no time busting the door to the house open and screaming the name of the one person who could help him at that moment. A wise old woman that if she heard him say such words she would rip the sunwalker ring from his finger and watch him burn alive in the sun and call it justice.

The moment he started screaming she rounded the corner. “What in the nine hells are you doing Astarion? Are you looking for me to sign your death warrant?”

Her hair was white and she had a few more wrinkles, but Jaheira was the same as the last time Astarion saw her. As a half-elf by all rights, she should have died from old age by now but since she was also a druid that meant that she could live for thousands of years without dying. Which was great for Astarion at this moment because he didn’t know of any other healer that would help him without asking too many questions.

“Yes yes kill me later but I need you now.” Maybe it was the look of desperation in Astarion’s eyes or maybe Jaheira knew that the Vampire wouldn’t come to her unless he truly needed help.

“Where is she?” Jaheira started moving towards the door.

“At home, I went out for a few hours to get some information and to pick her up something to eat and I came home to find her passed out on the floor face down in a pool of her own vomit.” Astarion followed after her explaining all he knew to catch Jaheira up on the way.

Jaheira kept pace with the vampire despite her age. “Was she sick before today?”

“I mean I noticed that she wasn’t eating very much this past week but nothing else out of the ordinary.” Astarion was kicking himself for not noticing more. Next time, he would pay more attention to you. Touch you more often to gauge your temperature.

“Don’t beat yourself up Astarion it sounds like she was hiding the bulk of her symptoms from you. Probably so you wouldn’t come get me so I could yell at her about her health.” Jaheira mused as the two of you turned the corner on your home's street.

She was right of course. Jaheira could make anyone do what she wanted that’s what made her such a good leader and why she had led the harpers for so many years. Jaheira turned into your home and walked straight to the bed. She examined your body for any cuts, strange puncture wounds, or anything that pointed towards poison. Nothing.

“I’m going to use magic to see if I can sense anything.” Astarion stepped back as Jaheira’s eyes glowed and green waves of light pulsed from her hands and hovered over your body. It only lasted a few moments. “What in the hells….” She dropped her hands and looked towards Astarion and back to you then back to Astarion again.

“What? Did you find out what’s wrong with her?” Astarion asked wondering why Jaheira kept looking back and forth between him and you. “Just spit out what is wrong with her we don’t have much….”

Jaheira cut him off and held her hand out in front of her. “Give me your dagger Astarion.”

Astarion flinched back at her words. “Are you meaning to kill her because I won’t let you.”

Jaheira rolled her eyes. “No, I’m trying to save her now give me your dagger now!”

Astarion, sensing no hint of deception coming from her words, handed her his dagger that he kept on his belt and then watched as Jaheira cut her own wrist open. Astarion watched in confusion as Jaheira propped you up using her body and placed her wrist to your mouth.

“Drink if you want to live girl.”

Your eyes fluttered open at the smell of blood and you looked to Astarion as you took Jaheira’s wrist into your mouth and sucked. The blood that filled your mouth was warm and tasted like iron. You gagged as the blood hit the back of your throat and you weren't used to the taste.

“Drink, I will take it away when you need to stop.” Jaheria’s words gave you the will to drink. As the warm blood hit your stomach you could feel yourself gaining your strength.

“What in the hells is going on?” Astarions voice shook. “Are you a vampire and just didn’t tell me?”

The look on Astarion’s face was laced with the look of betrayal. But the truth was you had no idea what was going on. You were just as confused as he was. Why was Jaheira’s blood giving you strength? Were you just low in iron and this was the fastest way to make your anemia disappear? You were completely clueless.

“Oh calm yourself Astarion she’s not a vampire.” Jaheria plucked her wrist from your mouth and began wrapping it with a strip of clean cloth. “But she is growing one inside her belly.” Jaheira’s smile was giant across her face. “Congratulations daddy.”

[jordyn14]

It Has Always Been You • Joe Burrow Mini Series

Chapter 1: “Hey, hey, hey. What’s with the staring?”

I'm Maisie, Maisie Moreau. The last name is in fact French. Before my mom and I moved to Athens, Ohio, we lived in Monaco. My dad was well known in Monaco because he was an f1 driver. My dad was amazing. Any chance he got, he was bringing me to the race tracks so I could either watch him, or climb in either him so he could show me what he see's every time he got in that car. Those cars that I grew up around, that I thought could do no wrong and were so cool, killed my dad. While he was coming around a corner, he lost control of the car and skidded off the track. Next thing I know, I was watching the car slowly becoming engulfed in flames. At the time I didn't really know what was going on, but my dad was trapped in his car and the rescue team didn't put the fire out soon enough. My dad died.

After that, my mom couldn't stand to live in that house...or in Monaco for that matter. Anywhere she looked, my dad was there, literally. Not only were there so many memories of him around the house or in their favorite restaurants or coffee shops, but there were pictures of him that people put out in remembrance of him. Don't get me wrong, it was nice to see that people were honoring him and his name after such a horrible accident, but we didn't want to keep seeing his face everywhere, it hurt too much. I was 7 when we left Monaco to come to Ohio. Don't ask me why we came to Athens, Ohio, though. Out of every single state that couldn't been home, she chose Ohio. The quiet, empty, high poverty and crime state. I would soon find out that that was the best decision my mom has ever made for us.

Coming into a new school as a second grader where everybody already knew everyone from first grade was scary-no, terrifying. My friends were all back at home and I expected to never find friends. Plus, even though I was raised around English and French, I kept forgetting how to say things, which just made kids laugh. I would come home crying most days asking my mom if we could go back home. I knew she felt terrible because it was a big change, Monaco...the richest country in the world, to Athen's, Ohio. That was until I met Arthur Burrow. Arthur saw me crying under the slide one day and asked me if I wanted to play with him and his friends, he said it was because I had a cool accent. The rest is pretty much history. We became instant best friends, and when I say best friends, I mean inseparable. Everywhere he went, I went, and everywhere I went, he went. Arthur even helped me with my English, even though I still struggle with it sometimes.

Not only did we become best friends, but my mom became best friends with his parents. I mean they kind of had to, Arthur and I wanted to hang out any chance we got. We spend all of elementary school together and when we finally were about to go into middle school, my mom thought it would be a good idea to take us all down to Monaco for a little vacation, even Arthur's parents and brother. My mom kept the house which led to a private beach because she couldn't part with it and frequently visited, so when we got back home, it was like nothing changed. It felt so good to be around people who talked like me. It was like a breath of fresh air. We spent that entire week pretty much in the water, where Arthur learned that he absolutely loved boats. I of course, only 11, asked my mom if we could take the yacht back home. She obviously told me that that was impossible.

I guess it's time that I should also mention Arthur's older brother of three years, Joe Burrow. When people think of Joe Burrow, their minds probably go to the quarterback from the Cincinnati Bengals, but not me. My mind instantly goes to my best friend's dreamy and charming older brother who always had our backs. When someone would make fun of my accent and the way I would forget some words in English, Joe was always there to put them in their place, girls or not. Joe wouldn't let anyone talk bad about his brother or me. You see? Dreamy. That was a crush that started off very very small, but soon got very very big. The first day I realized that I had a crush on him was when Arthur and I who were in 6th grade, went to watch Joe play in his first ever varsity basketball game. The way he ran up and down that court and shot the ball was like sugar rush to me...at least they felt similar.

While Joe was off at LSU being an amazing quarterback and proving everyone wrong, Arthur and I were figuring out ourselves and what we were passionate about. When I was 16, my mom got a call from a modeling agency, and just like Arthur and I, the rest was history. When I reached the age of 18, my name was getting a little bigger and I was modeling for more places than just local businesses. My first big modeling job was for Nike, yes, it may seem small compared to some, but Justice and Gap were even smaller. From there, I started to travel around a little bit for these modeling photo shoots and when I was 19, I modeled for Prada, which was like a dream come true for me.

When I was 18, though, Arthur and I both went to Ohio State. I went for fashion design and out of high school started up my own clothing business, which has skyrocketed these past few years because I really got my name out there with modeling. Arthur went first engineering and now has a big boy job making a lot of money, but obviously not as much as his brother who always teases him about that.

Also at 18, my mom decided to move back to Monaco. It was the second hardest decision's she ever had to make, second to moving to America after my dad passed away. My mom needed to move back, though. Not only to keep my dad's memory alive, but because she missed it so incredibly much. She missed her friends, going to f1 races, going on boat rides whenever she wanted, living near the ocean, and more. We all could tell that she wanted to go back, she just didn't want to leave me, but I wanted to stay. I couldn't leave my best friend. It was hard without her for a while, but we FaceTimed any chance we got, and I also visited whenever modeling, school, or work wasn't in the way. Lucky, I picked up a few modeling shoots with hermés and Dior in Monaco so I could go there for the shoot and stay for a weekend with my mom.

Another amazing thing that about being best friends with Arthur was not only watching his brother go from cute to hot and see him find himself, but also make it to the NFL. It was hard to watch him at OSU and being the backup to the backup. There were so many times where the three of us would go out to lunch and all Joe could think and talk about was football, and it wasn't positive things, really. It was about how he was always the backup and how he never got the chance to prove himself. It was hard on him and we hated seeing him struggle, especially when he hurt his hand and became the backup to the backup. It literally had been amazing watching Joe live out his dream in the NFL because of that. His football career started off extremely rough and not promising, but now he's doing amazing and is proving everyone wrong.

Not only did I get to watch my friend become amazing at football, but I got to watch him while having the biggest crush on him. It was hard not to. He wasn't just extremely attractive and amazing at football, but he was an amazing person. Time and time again he showed just how amazing he was. Whether it was standing up for me and Arthur, helping me with my English when Arthur couldn't, or literally just being himself, he was amazing. He was nerdy, funny, handsome, kind, intelligent. It was literally impossible not to have a crush on him. But at the end of the day, he was my best friend's brother, which meant I always had to push those feelings aside. It wasn't like I ever thought Joe would start to have feelings for me, because that was extremely impractical, but I didn't want anything to come between Arthur and I, and me having a crush on his brother could do that.

Just like we did in Joe's first year of playing in the NFL, we packed our bags and headed to Monaco for a week vacation where Joe could calm down and destress before the first game. Arthur and I always loved visiting Monaco because the legal drinking age was 18, meaning the day we turned 18, we took a trip over here so we could drink legally. Now, at 22, we didn't have to worry about that stuff. Currently, we were all on our yacht, soaking in the last bit of ocean before we had to leave and go back to Ohio. The new season starting back up meant the stress would eventually creep into Joe and he would be insufferable after the losses, meaning that Arthur and I were really soaking up the last bit of fun and stress free Joe. My mom and the Burrow's were all at the front of the boat relaxing and catching up while the three of us were at the back of the boat.

I let out a deep exhale, the sun shining on me feeling amazing. My eyes were shut and I couldn't help but smile. This life was amazing. From in front of me, I could hear Arthur doing flips off of the boat and into the ocean under us. It was moments like these ones that I wish I could live in Monaco. Not only did I love the ocean and the sun, I also loved being around people who spoke the same language as me. Arthur and Joe tried to learn, but they only know how to out a few sentences together. On this yacht, I could tell Joe could forget about the things he was worried about back at home and put his focus into having fun. "Maisie, come in! The waters great!" Arthur yelled up at me from in the water. With a small laugh, I opened my eyes and sat up on my elbows so I could look down and into the water a little bit. Unable to see Arthur, he swam back a little bit and came into view.

As soon as we made eye contact, I waved down at him and we both started laughing. As you can see, I am suntanning. I have a modeling shoot tomorrow before we leave and I want my skin nice and golden." I said with a little "hmph.' After hearing this, Arthur started swimming over to the ladder on the side of the yacht and started to climb out of the water, water trickling off of his body. Don't you dare. When he made his way over to me, he bent down a little so he was closer to me and started to shake his head and body, water getting all over me. "Stop it, you're like a wet dog!" I screamed in French while laughing and got up from the chair. "One, why are you always tanning, and two, slow down your French because I can't understand you." Arthur said and elbowed me in the side a little bit.

Usually when I talk fast or out of nowhere, I will accidentally speak French, which happens more than I'd like to admit, but Arthur just finds it funny. "One, it's a lifestyle, and two, I called you a wet dog." I said and laughed as I watched Arthur's face drop when he heard me call him a wet dog. Scanning Arthur's face, a small smile started to appear before he nodded to himself. "Don't you dare." I said and backed away from him, putting my hands out in front of me to shield myself. All of a sudden, he lunched forwards and grabbed me in his arms, lifting me up off of the ground. I started to flail and hit his back while we both laughed like crazy. "You let me go right now!" I laughed and flailed some more, but soon just accepted it as he got closer to the edge of the boat.

I let out one last scream as Arthur jumped into the water with me in his arms. As soon as my feet hit the water, I plugged my nose to stop any water from getting in it before I was submerged. Arthur let go of me once we were both in the water. After a few seconds of staying under the water, I started to swim to the top and as soon as I surfaced, I looked over at Arthur who was already fixing his messed up hair. "Now I have to wash my hair." I laughed and dipped my head underwater to get the hair out of my face some more. "Good, it looked bad anyways." He joked with me as he started to swim towards the ladder. All of a sudden, I heard the door on the yacht open up and stopped moving so I was floating in the water. I looked up to see Joe walking out. Damn.

Joe was in nothing but his swimming trunks, and obviously a pair of socks since he always wore socks-except in the water, that is. I couldn't tear my eyes off of him and the way every single muscle was showing right now. My eyes scanned over his thick thighs, his muscular arms, his toned abs with the perfect amount of love handles on the sides. I gulped a little at the sight of his perfectly tanned body as he strutted out to us, his chest a bit red from not putting on enough sunscreen, though his mom kept nagging him about it. I would be lying if I said this wasn't one of my favorite parts about being out on the yacht. I was pulled from my thoughts when Arthur started to climb out of the water. Following his lead, I started to climb out after him and crossed my arms over my chest when I couldn't find my towel.

"Your mom is going to start taking us back since you have a modeling shoot in a few hours. Unless you guys want to get in your workout and swim back." Joe said. Both Charles and Joe started laughing at that last bit, knowing I wasn't the best at swimming long distances. Arthur, still chuckling, looked me up and down a little bit and said, "Maisie would drown. She doesn't have the stamina for that." I rolled my eyes while ringing out my hair a little bit. A bunch of water fell onto my feet and onto the boat. I looked up at Joe and saw that he was carrying two towels. "Sorry, I'm not a football player and I'm not a gym rat like you." I said while shaking my head. Joe chuckled a little bit and said, "maybe you should go to the gym with Arthur...beef up those twig like arms while you're at it." I scoffed a little and looked down at my arms. They definitely weren't twigs, they just weren't as big as theirs.

"Thanks but no thanks. My arms are just fine. Plus, I do work out for your information." I said with a little smile and a shrug. Joe just chuckled and held out his hand which held my beach towel. Arthur already grabbed his and was currently running it over his hair to dry it off. "Here you go, Zie." Joe said. My face instantly flushed a shade of red as I heard him call me Zie. Yes, Joe's nickname for me was Zie. When I was younger, I absolutely hated it. Everyone either called me Maisie, May, or Maise, not Zie. I asked Joe just to pick one of those three, but he insisted on Zie because he wanted to be the only person that called me that. That nickname has been such a constant thing that now I even like hearing it because when I hear it, I know Joe said it since he's the only person that uses it. "Thank you, Joey." I reached out to grab the towel from his hand, but noticed Joes eyes go from my eyes to my breasts.

After I grabbed it from him, Arthur started to talk to me about something that I wasn't even paying attention to. All I could focus on was the fact that Joe was looking directly down at my breasts and not talking, just staring. After a few seconds of him looking down at them, he realized what he was doing and quickly looked away and cleared his throat. I wrapped the towel around myself and quickly grabbed my clothes from the chair I was sun tanning on a little bit ago. "Just make sure you don't fall in on the way back." Joe said and turned on his heal. I couldn't take my eyes off of his back muscles and the way his hair blew in the wind as he walked away from us and towards the front of the boat. I couldn't help but wonder what it would feel like to run my fingers over those muscles and through his hair.

"Hey, hey, hey. What's with the staring?" Arthur elbowed me a little bit, noticing how I was staring at him. I tore my eyes off of Joe and looked over at Arthur who was putting his shirt on. Deep down, he knew I found Joe cute, and I mean...who wouldn't. It's impossible not to be face to face with a tall, handsome man like Joe and not find him cute. But Joe wasn't just cute...he was totally hot. What makes him even more attractive is his personality and the way he respects everyone. He's gently, caring, compassionate, romantic-and I'm rambling. See what he does to me? That stuff shouldn't matter to me because he's off limits. I couldn't do that do Arthur. Still, it's hard to get Joe out of my head.

"Oh as if." I said and punched his arm. Arthur nodded a little bit and smiled. "Yeah, well, don't get any ideas." He said and wrapped an arm around my neck, pulling me towards him and into a head lock as we headed for the door that led inside where we could get dressed. After a little bit, we finally docked the boat and we walked home, which wasn't too far away. When we got to the house, Arthur and I ran inside to see who could get the best shower in the house firsts, which was the guest bedroom that he stayed in. Why did he get the best shower? I have no idea. All I know is that it's the best in the house and I needed a good shower since I have a modeling shoot soon. We both pushed past Joe who was walking in front of us, making him stumble to the side a little bit. "You guys act like children!" He called out after us as we raced each other, though I could hear him laugh after. "It prevents wrinkles, you should try it!" I looked back at him for a split second while running. Luckily I turned around when I did because if I didn't, I would've totally ran into an end table.

Before I knew it, I was jumping over the couch to get in front of Arthur and then he followed after me up the stairs. Finally, I made it to the bathroom before him and turned around to face him, looking victorious. "Haha, I win, loser. Now shoo. I need to shower quick so I can get to my photo shoot." I said, shooing him away so I could shower. Arthur glared at me for a few seconds before accepting that he lost and walking out of the room and probably another shower. I grabbed everything I needed for my shower including my clothes and then locked the bathroom door behind me and started to strip away my clothes.

Instead of my normal everything shower that took an hour, I showered in 15 minutes since I was in a little bit of a rush. Turning the water off, I stepped out of the shower and wrapped a towel around me as I shivered a little. Reaching over to grab my clothes which were in my usual spot, my heart dropped a little bit. "Damn it." I said to myself with a sigh, realizing that I forgot them on Arthur's bed. Now I was going to have to open the door and let all of the cool air in. Great. With another sigh, I swung open the door. "Arthur, I think Maisie left you without saying goodbye." Joe chuckles with his back facing me, expecting me to be Arthur. "Oh my gosh!" I said quickly, not expecting Joe to be in Arthur's room while I was showering. Joe looked behind him after hearing someone scream and looked just as shocked as me when he saw that I was in fact not Arthur and I was wrapped in a towel.

Just as soon as he faced me, he was turning around quickly and said, "I am so sorry, I thought you were Arthur." I gripped onto the towel around me so it didn't fall and backed up into the bathroom. I started to shut the door but made sure there was a big enough crack so I could reach my hand out. Just as Joe was about to walk out of the room and give me privacy, I said, "wait," quickly. Joe stopped in his tracks and turned his head to the side so his ear was facing me, but his eyes weren't. Part of me wanted him to look at me and never take his eyes off of me. "Can you hand me my clothes real quick? They're on the bed." I said nervously, feeling stupid for forgetting my clothes and making Joe look at me with nothing but a towel on.

Joe glanced towards the bed and when he saw my clothes, nodded and walked over to them. "Of course." He said and grabbed them, making sure not to unfold them. When he started walking my way, I quickly leaned back from the door so he didn't catch me staring at him and so he didn't see me. I heard his footsteps getting closer to the door and then he said, "alright, reach your hand out." I reached my hand out of the small crack in the door and felt him place the clothes in my hand. "Thank you so much, Joey." I said. "It's no problem, Zie." With that, I heard his footsteps again but this time they disappeared out of the room. I shut the door quickly and leaned my back on it after hearing Arthur's bedroom door shut. "Shit." I said to myself, slapping my forehead.

Once I got dressed, I walked downstairs to see everyone sitting down at the huge table eating a post yacht snack. I always call it a post yacht snack since every time we get off of the boat, we all snack so much. "Alright, shower is free Arthur. I'm going to head out soon. I'll see you all tomorrow." I said with a smile and towards the table. Once I got to the table, I hugged Jimmy and Robin from behind and told them bye and then made my way over to my mom. "Drive safe, sweetheart. I love you." My mom said once I wrapped my arms around her from behind. "I love you more momma." I said and kissed her cheek when she tilted her head near me and patted my arm. Once I pulled away from her, I walked over to Arthur who stood up from his chair.

I wrapped my arms around Arthur and hugged him tightly before we pulled away. When I walked away, Arthur flicked me in the shoulder. "You're a bitch. No wonder why you're still single." I said in French as I continued to walk. My mom started cracking up laughing while everyone else looked at me and then my mom, wondering what I said. "What did you say? What did she say?" Arthur asked me and then my mom from the table, Joe laughed and then said, "she probably called you a jackass, jackass, which is why nobody likes you." I looked over while laughing a nodded a little bit. "Honestly that was pretty close." I told Joe while laughing. I grabbed my Keys from the key bowl on the counter and headed for the door. Before I reached the door, though, I turned around and said, "I'll see you tomorrow. Bye guys!" I said and opened up the door, hearing everyone say bye as I walked out.

A/n: I know this one is short and pretty boring, but the next one is going to be way better, I promise! I hope you enjoyed the first chapter! 🫶🏼🫶🏼

[unadulteratedsoulsweets]

A DC X DP IDEA #21

A PENNY FOR MY AND YOUR THOUGHTS #1…

The Justice League tries to understand the intricacies of the Ghost Zone and ghostly physics. Batman, in particular, attempts to apply logic to the supernatural world, leading to some hilarious debates with Danny who in return explains to Batman how his family’s and his version of physics breaks all logic.

…

You know this idea kind of came up to me, I’ve had my share of DC X DP crossovers of stories over the past year, and let me. Now that I’m talking out loud I found this hilarious cause tell you this opinion of mine was in the back of my head ever since

Logic is always present in the DC franchise whether it is their machines or some great evil weapons there is always some sort of explanation that uses science-defined words that can be translated into comic science. From magicians as well to magic shenanigans there is always some sort of logic behind each interaction. Batman uses full time to counter-act everything, and I mean everything in case they turn to the other side.

And there is DP…

I mean in all logic there is an absolute quack. The Fenton’s way a lipstick can be turned into some sort of laser gun against a ghost, okay two questions first how did they manage to cram the function to fire away a small yet precise blast towards the intended direction and second how did they even modify an everyday looking lipstick into that. The Fenton creep stick is just a baseball bat with a green sticker yet for some reason works on ghosts. Let’s not forget that the two eccentric ghost hunters have designed and built many of the ghost-hunting devices, often using household objects or repurposed machinery. I mean I saw the YouTube vids about how to build a bomb or even how to make your weapon made out of everyday machinery yet there are still machine parts that cannot be found in everyday appliances to ensure a functioning and safe weapon.

 Let’s not also forget about the ectoplasm, the show repeatedly stated that ectoplasm is radioactive, sure there are the mutated dinners as well as some other stuff but the fact that it did’nt affect the other two children of the Fenton’s due to prolonged exposure of ectoplasm beneath there own home amazes me. I mean look at our everyday powerplant there is a huge distance between a power plant to civilization to avoid future problems, heck we are exposed to light radiation everyday. Doctors advise us to stay away from radiation or lessen our time spent with everyday radiation. Sure there are some fan fics about how the entire population of Amity Park is somehow contaminated and gained some sort of ghost ability like extra strength and glowing eyes but majority of them, Danny was the only one seeing that he had an entire dimension fall on him when he opened the portal.

Now mash the two fandoms together and you’ll see my mental image of Batman and Phantom debating the logic behind DP logics despite having the same two fandoms living in the same universe, while the rest of the League watches in great focus as they have never seen Batman so worked up before as well on how their new League member create such highly functioning weapons.

I mean if I saw someone create a staff turned into some sort of double-bladed lightsaber from household items, I would also question my sanity as well as my knowledge.

…

Just a thought of mine….don't mind me 😕😕😕

[cool-fancier]

Love's Continuous Determination

Synopsis: Despite difficulties, your love for Bada Lee remains and acts as your compass and anchor. Her imperfections make her human, and your presence improves the world, demonstrating the power of real love to overcome obstacles.

There had been numerous times when it would have been simpler to let go in the complicated web of love. There were many reasons to stop loving Bada Lee and run away from the complexity and uncertainty that came with it. Nevertheless, out of all those things, there was one that kept you strong—a love that was stronger than the oceans and a link that was unbreakable despite the difficulties of life.

Your journey with Bada had been erratic, characterised by the ups and downs of challenges in life. Your hearts beat in perfect unison as you danced through life together, and there were times of laughter and joy.  However, there were also times when you cried, felt distress, and faced obstacles that seemed impossible.

You frequently found yourself in situations when it would have been simpler to say goodbye, such as crossroads. The world frequently urged you to let go and choose an easier way. But each time, you fought back.

You stayed because Bada had a way of making everything brighter and of making every second you spent with her seem like an endless moment of enjoyment. Her laughing was your favourite song, her smile was your daybreak, and her love was your anchor in a stormy sea.

You stayed because you found a home in her arms—a place where you could be who you truly are, where your insecurities were accepted, and where your dreams were supported to reach new heights. Her embrace was a haven from the chaos of the outside world.

You stayed because she was beautifully imperfect, and it was those flaws and imperfections that made her human. She could be upset and vulnerable, strong and fragile, and you admired that about her. You appreciated every aspect of her because she was a mosaic of contrasts and a masterpiece of complications.

You stayed because you had faith in the healing power of love and believed that your powerful connection might rebuild even the most shattered pieces. Together, you battled life's storms, and through each one, your love grew stronger and more strong.  Your love has been transformed into something unbreakable in the fire of adversity.

And so, when the world questioned your choice, when it gave doubt upon your love, you remained unwavering. You were aware that the world might have a thousand reasons against your choice, but there was only one thing keeping you there: your undying affection for Bada, which was so strong and pure that it overcame all challenges and doubts.

In the end, your love for Bada acted as your north star, compass, and cause for existence. It was an unbounded love that defied logic and explanation. Because you had made the decision to love her for eternity rather than simply a lifetime, it was a love that kept you by her side until your final breath.

Your love hasn't changed over the years, which is proof of the heart's immortal power. It was a love story that overcame the odds and demonstrated that real love could outlast all obstacles, including a million reasons to give up. In the end, you made the decision to choose love, and that decision was crucial because it brought you to a love that was limitless, eternal, and well worth all of the difficulties you encountered.

[bumblesimagines]

When Fire Meets Fate

Part 9

Request: Yes or No

~~~

(Y/N) ran his finger along the rim of his cup, listening to the waves crash against the rocks. The wind gently blew in his face, bringing him the smell of salt. Dragonstone, while isolated and home to untamed dragons, had proven to be the safe haven the family desperately needed. There were no rumors or whispers. No accusing stares when one walked down the hall. Only loyal servants and guards. And of course, Prince Daemon. The infamous prince had settled down with them quite comfortably, claiming he'd rather starve than live in the Red Keep under Alicent and Otto's rule.

Over the years, King Viserys' health had been on a steady decline, leaving the once full-of-life king confined to his bedchambers. His deteriorated state had left nobody surprised. They'd all been witnesses to his loss of energy and the way he appeared far older than his actual age. Rhaenyra had been left increasingly worried about her father, for the last time she'd seen him he'd been limping and coughing quite harshly. To hear he could no longer leave his bed without help meant it'd only be a matter of time before he joined her mother and left her with the Iron Throne. A realization that loomed over the pregnant princess and her husband, and no doubt loomed over Alicent Hightower as she ruled in his place.

Pulling his gaze away from the blue horizon, he turned his head to gaze down the hall as Daemon strolled over to him. "Prince Daemon." (Y/N) greeted him, pausing his movements and frowning upon seeing the look on his face. (Y/N) had come to learn that over the few years they spent together on Dragonstone that Daemon Targaryen was a simple yet complicated man. Many claimed the silver-haired prince was cold, ruthless, and driven by pure rage like his ancestor; King Maegor the Cruel. And he often was just that; ruthless and driven by an unquenchable thirst for power. But (Y/N) had seen the way he gazed at the children, especially his daughters, with a look of pure love and admiration. He saw the way Daemon delicately touch them, almost as if afraid they'd break under his fingertips because a man like Daemon Targaryen enjoyed destruction and something so innocent would surely shatter if touched. (Y/N) had witnessed his tears and bowed head when his daughter had departed for Driftmark to be alongside her grandmother. He'd witnessed his features hardened and eyes narrow upon hearing his brother had become bedridden and vulnerable to the Hightowers. He'd heard him laugh and yell and whisper. He'd seen enough of Daemon to consider him a close friend. 

So when he noticed Daemon's clenched jaw and calculating eyes, he knew something had occurred. Stepping away from the window, he tilted his head. "What troubles you?"

"Vaemond Velaryon," Daemon answered icily, lightly shaking his head. "I received word from Driftmark. The Sea Snake was injured in battle and his condition only seems to worsen. Even Princess Rhaenys has begun to doubt if he'll recover." 

"If Lord Corlys passes, it means Driftmark will be in need of a new lord... and I assume Vaemond intends to be that lord." (Y/N) sighed deeply, bringing a hand to his head and rubbing his forehead. The years had passed swiftly and the only challenges he'd faced in those years since marrying Rhaenyra had been dealing with two fussy toddlers. In some twisted irony, his youngest sons had inherited the trait they had so desperately needed for Jace and Luke; bright silver hair. "How likely is it we'll have to return to King's Landing?"

"Highly likely," Daemon responded, a smirk tugging at his lips as he cocked his head, his previous irritated demeanor evaporating within seconds. "Does our precious future king not like King's Landing? It'll be your kingdom someday, you know." He cooed teasingly, chuckling lightly when (Y/N) dropped his hand and rolled his eyes at him.

"We should inform Nyra. She'll be far from pleased." (Y/N) muttered, turning around and making his way down the hall with Daemon following. Entering the main hall, Rhaenyra turned to them with a wide smile though it fell upon taking in their faces. Swallowing, she placed a hand over her bump and turned toward Jace, softly ordering everyone to leave. Jace nodded to them, retrieving Joffery from the floor and exiting the room with the servants present.

"What's wrong?" Rhaenyra asked, walking around the table to approach them, eyes flickering between her uncle and her husband. Daemon retrieved the thin strip of paper from his pocket and handed it to her, watching her pull it open and read its contents. Her brows raised slightly, lips parting. "He means to call into question Luke's legitimacy. And by extension Jace, and by extension my own claim to the throne."

"Vaemond cares only about Driftmark and the Velaryon line." Daemon objected gently as Rhaenyra continued to read, her concern only growing with each word.

"Rhaenys has flown to court. Surely, she cannot be planning to back him." Rhaenyra lifted her head with furrowed brows and slightly widened, panicked eyes. (Y/N) and Daemon exchanged doubtful glances at the information.

(Y/N) shook his head. "Despite her grievances with us, I do not believe she'd back Vaemond. She and her lord-husband accepted Luke as heir."

"Grievances? She believes we killed her son so we could marry, (Y/N). She has no love for us." Rhaenyra grunted softly, dropping her arms to her sides and shaking her head, crinkling the paper in her hand. Daemon smirked, intertwining his fingers and tilting his head as he studied his niece.

"Have the vipers' venom spread so far?" He asked lightly, earning a look from the distressed woman. 

"Those vipers rule in my father's name." She reminded him. "And my father..." Rhaenyra trailed off, eyes growing distant and lips pulling into a sad frown at the thought of her sickly father. Shaking her head, she sighed softly. "What choice do I have?"

"Do not freight, Nyra." (Y/N) murmured softly and stepped forward, pressing his lips to her forehead and placing a hand over her belly. His wife couldn't help but smile, resting her hand over his and stroking the back of his hand with her thumb. Tilting her head up to look at him, she gazed at him sweetly. (Y/N) raised his other hand to cup her cheek, placing his forehead against hers. "We'll go to King's Landing and claim what is rightfully ours, my beloved."

"What a sickly sweet sight," Daemon muttered, drawing exasperated looks from the couple. "If you have another son, I do hope you'll name him after me."

"Absolutely not." (Y/N) dismissed, turning back to his wife when she released a chuckle. With a fleeting genuine smile, Daemon turned his back to them and left the room to begin preparing for the journey back to King's Landing. Rhaenyra inhaled deeply, eyes fluttering closed as her husband ran his fingers through her silky hair, a content sigh escaping her lips.

"Luke will not take the news well. He'll put a brave face on but he'll be crushed. He already has doubts about his parentage. What if-"

"Rhaenyra, you mustn't allow this to cause panic. Vaemond is simply seeking power and he'll be denied it. Rhaenys loves her grandchildren and allowing Vaemond to become lord affects the girls. Besides, everyone has seen Corly's love for Luke. She cannot deny her husband has grown a soft spot for him. Everything will be fine. I promise."

                    ✶        ✶       ✶       ✶       ✶       ✶

King's Landing felt vastly different since the last time they'd seen it. The once rather lively kingdom had fallen more silent, more solemn. Fog enveloped the land in a damp hug, and the chilly air nipped at their skin. Gray clouds covered the sky above them, a stark comparison to Dragonstone where the sky had been last seen a bright blue. Many structures had changed, shifting away from what it once was and appearing more to cater toward the Faith of the Seven. (Y/N) couldn't bring himself to be surprised. Anything the Hightowers touched could only darken over time. 

"All hail Rhaenyra of House Targaryen, Princess of Dragonstone and heir to the throne, and her royal consort Lord (Y/N) Hightower!" A knight called out as the carriage slowed to a stop. Pushing the door open, Rhaenyra carefully climbed down the steps, staring up at the gloomy castle she once called home. (Y/N) followed, feeling a gust of wind brush by him as the other carriages entered and their family joined them. (Y/N) walked toward Rhaenyra, placing a comforting hand on her back and noting the lack of a warm welcome. One of the doors creaked open and Lord Caswell stepped out, quickly walking toward them with an apologetic look.

Bowing his head before reaching out to grab Rhaenyra's hands, the man almost seemed relieved to see them. "Welcome back, Princess."

"Lord Caswell." Rhaenyra greeted him with furrowed brows, glancing at her husband before they followed him inside. Allowing the boys to leave and explore their former home, (Y/N) and Rhaenyra strolled through the halls, noticing the vast differences within the castle walls. Many paintings and statues had been removed and replaced with things that resembled the faith the Hightowers clung to fiercely. The more (Y/N) looked around, the more he felt as if he were back in Oldtown. A suffocating feeling slithered around his chest. 

"I wish to see my brother, Lord Caswell." Daemon called, looking rather vexed at all the 'improvements' to the castle. The lord winced but nodded, stepping back and bowing his head as the three ascended the stairs and down the hall to King Viserys' bedchambers. The guards stationed outside bowed their heads and Rhaenyra opened the door, gaze falling on the replica of Old Valyira her father had been working on for many years. Rhaenyra grimaced and looked away from the abandoned project, walking forward and gently brushing aside the curtains draped before King Viserys bed. (Y/N) ran his gaze over the replica, only having heard stories about it from Alicent and Rhaenyra. Tearing his eyes away from it, he walked forward and reached out to tug the curtains aside.

"Father?" She called out, only hearing soft wheezing in response. While Rhaenyra took the initiative and stepped in further, rounding her father's bed to see him up close, Daemon lingered behind, head turned away from the bed in almost fear of what he'd see if he looked in. (Y/N) pressed a comforting hand to Daemon's back and watched his wife.

When Rhaenyra neared his bed, King Viserys reacted. "Who goes there?"

"Father. It's me, My King. Rhaenyra." Rhaenyra answered and (Y/N) approached her, breath catching in his throat as he took in the King. He looked frail, so frail his cheekbones protruded through his almost gray skin. His left eye had been covered by bandages and his head lacked the striking Targaryen locks save for a few thin strands. He'd grown skinny, bones practically showing through his skin and his nails had turned black in color. His remaining eye squinted at them, unable to open it fully for long.

Leaning forward, Rhaenyra gazed down at her father sadly. "I'm here with (Y/N) and Daemon." She told him softly.

"(Y/N)..." King Viserys repeated softly. "Daemon? Daemon?" At the sound of his brother weakly repeating his name, only then did Daemon step forward and walk toward the bed, wincing at the state his brother was in. His eyes shined with the beginning of tears and he quickly looked down. "Help me up." The King grunted and groaned, breathing labored as his daughter propped the pillows up for him. He leaned back into them and took her hands into his, looking up at them. "It has been so long."

"The Sea Snake has taken a grave wound in battle in the Stepstones," Daemon spoke up, ignoring the glance Rhaenyra sent him.

"When?" King Viserys asked, wheezing softly. "We won that war years ago."

"No. The Triacrhy is resurgent. The fighting is anew. And there is a p- There is a petition to decide upon the succession of Driftmark and the heir to the Driftwood Throne." Daemon explained, stammering when he looked upon his brother for too long. 

Exhaling softly, King Viserys shakily lifted a hand to his head and winced. "Alicent and Otto... They see to all that business now."

"No, Brother, listen to me." Pushing forward past the couple, Daemon leaned down so his brother could hear him clearly. "You are to affirm your position for Lucerys to be Corlys Velaryon's successor," Daemon instructed, glancing back at (Y/N) when he placed a hand on his shoulder and lightly shook his head. The doors to the bedchamber opened and (Y/N) felt himself smiling upon hearing soft babbling. Rhaenyra leaned forward, gently grasping her father's arms.

"Father... There's someone we wish to introduce you to." Rhaenyra told him before she moved away from the bed, approaching the two maids and gently taking one of the boys into her arms. (Y/N) hummed softly, taking Aegon from the other maid and gently bouncing him as he neared the bed, seeing King Viserys gaze up at his grandsons in surprise and longing. "This is Aegon," Rhaenyra nodded to the baby in her husband's arms. "And this is Viserys."

"Viserys.." He repeated, smiling and reaching out toward his grandson. "Now that is a name... fit for a king." He and Rhaenyra shared a chuckle, smiling together until King Viserys groaned softly and leaned back, cringing and apologizing repeatedly when the baby began to cry, in turn making his brother burst into tears. Shushing his son softly, (Y/N) bounced little Aegon in his arms, cooing until his cries ceased and the boy nuzzled into his neck, tiny fingers grasping his father's collar. "My tea... My tea..." King Viserys wheezed.

"What tea? This?" Daemon took Rhaenyra's spot beside his brother, handing him the tea and watching him drink. (Y/N) sweetly kissed Aegon's temple and stepped toward the maid, handing him to her and nodding for her to leave. Rhaenyra did the same with little Viserys, a heavy sigh leaving her. (Y/N) wrapped his arm around her shoulders, rubbing her arm and watching Viserys be lulled to sleep by his drink. Daemon frowned, looking back at the two and lifting the cup to his nose. 

"Milk of the poppy, I assume." He muttered, setting the cup down and shaking his head. Stepping away from the bed, the three allowed the sick man to sleep and slipped past the curtains. Daemon settled down on a chair by the fireplace, stroking his clenched jaw. Coaxing his wife to sit, (Y/N) gently took her hand and sighed softly.

"He looks like a different person... I believe we should also consult Maester Gerardys." As Rhaenyra finished her thought, the doors opened and the three turned their heads to look. Alicent Hightower entered the room in a long green dress littered with golden accessories. (Y/N)'s eyes were immediately drawn to the seven-pointed star hanging from her neck; a symbol of the Faith of the Seven. She swept her gaze over each of them, lingering on her brother. Alicent appeared different. While her youthful face and slim figure remained, she almost appeared older.

"Princess Rhaenyra, Prince Daemon, Brother..." Alicent offered a polite yet tired smile, fingers wrapping around each other and eyes falling to Rhaenyra's exposed scar, the very one she'd given her years prior. "It's been so long since we've been granted the joy of your presence."

"Indeed, Your Grace." Rhaenyra agreed with a nod as she lifted her scarred arm and placed her hand upon her belly to hide it from view, forcing Alicent to look away from it.

"Though not long enough to merit a greeting upon our arrival," Daemon muttered bitterly, crossing one leg over the other and studying the queen with a far-from-impressed look.

"I'm sure the Queen had pressing business, Uncle," Rhaenyra offered, lifting her brows at Daemon like she would when scolding the boys before looking back at Alicent and smiling. "What can either of us know of ruling a kingdom?"

"I do not rule, as you well know." Alicent corrected, glancing toward her resting husband. "My father and I are mere stewards of the King's will and wisdom."

"And how exactly is that wisdom expressed, hm? In blinks and wheezes? I'd be surprised if he could remember his own name, or if you could." Daemon grumbled, fingers drumming on the armrests of his chair. (Y/N) inhaled and pressed his lips together as the tension in the room thickened considerably. 

Swallowing, Alicent tilted her chin up slightly at him. "King Visery's condition has worsened since you saw him last." She paused when Daemon laughed, the prince taking a moment to study his nails. "It subjects him to considerable pain. On the advice of the maesters-"

"Ah, the maesters..." Rhaenyra breathed, using her husband's offered arm to rise from her seated position. Stepping toward her former friend, she glanced in the direction of her father and scoffed softly. "It is they who keep him addled on milk of the poppy while the Hightowers warm his throne."

"Rhaenyra, if you would see him without it-"

"Oh, Alicent, I have no doubt it was an act of the purest mercy but tell me, for the King's suffering, did the maesters also prescribe the removal of Targaryen heraldry and the installation in its steads of various statues and stars?" Daemon rose up from his seat and walked forward to stand beside Rhaenyra. Alicent pursed her lips at his words, averting her gaze.

"I believe the matter at hand is more important than statues, which we can touch upon at a later time if you so wish, Daemon." (Y/N) spoke up, pushing himself away from the chair and clasping his hands behind his back as he stood beside his wife. "On the morrow, who will be the one casting judgment of Lucerys claim on his own inheritance?"

"That would be me. And the Hand." Alicent answered softly, gaze flickering to Daemon when he chuckled. Turning toward Rhaenyra, she cleared her throat. "But be assured, the Father is just and commands me to forget the accusations you hurled in this room today." She added passively, looking down at Rhaenyra's bump and straightening her posture. "I offer my congratulations, Princess. I hope I'll be able to meet my nephews before you return to Dragonstone. I'd like to be given the chance of being an aunt to them as I've always hoped for (Y/N) to have children of his own one day." 

"Let me know whenever you are free and I could introduce them to you." (Y/N) offered, drawing a surprised but nevertheless pleased look from Alicent. His sister smiled softly and nodded, looking back at the two Targaryens before taking her leave.

"I do not want her near our sons, (Y/N)," Rhaenyra muttered, rolling her ring between her fingers and gazing at her husband with a frown.

"She views Aegon and Viserys as her actual nephews, Nyra. She will not hurt them." (Y/N) assured her, lifting his hand to touch her cheek and pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead. "I'll go see what the boys are up to." He told them, nodding to Daemon and turning around. He left the room and roamed down the hall, heading down the steps as a wave of nostalgia hit him. Daemon had been right in his hostility. The Red Keep felt like a different castle altogether. The Faith of the Seven had always been a prominent religion in King's Landing but the Hightowers had forced it further onto the kingdom. Paintings and statues in honor of the gods filled walls and rooms to the point everywhere he looked there was something related to the religion.

Shaking his head and sighing to himself, (Y/N) focused on finding his eldest sons and he followed his gut feeling into the training yard where they often spent the most time back in Dragonstone. They'd certainly inherited the Targaryen's need to be strong warriors. When he stepped out onto the balcony overlooking the courtyard, a chuckle escaped him. The two were easy to spot despite their brown hair blending in with the others. Deceansdeding down the stairs, he felt stares bore into him and it reminded him why his family had left in the first place. Ladies and lords with nothing better to do other than gossip and watch.

"Uncle!" Despite not recognizing the voice, something about it held familiarly and pulled (Y/N)'s attention away from his sons and onto a silver-haired man. The tall man strode toward him with a wide smile, a single eye watching him. "I was hoping to see you before the petition."

"Aemond..." (Y/N) breathed, eyes unable to stop themselves from looking at his black eyepatch where the beginning and end of a scar peeked out from underneath. His nephew had certainly grown, almost towering over him with his long legs and hair that cascaded down his back. His voice had gotten deeper yet remained soft in tone. He looked more like a man than a boy despite only being a little older than Jace.

"I heard you bore two true-born sons," Aemond said, lips pressing into a thin line for a second as his eyes darkened briefly. A pleased smile appeared on his face afterward though it appeared somewhat forced. "Congratulations. I'm sure you'll be blessed with another."

A certain uneasiness swelled in (Y/N)'s stomach. Aemond gazed at him in an almost predatory way, like a cat observing a bird and waiting for the right moment to pounce. While the prince didn't appear to have any ill intent toward him, he couldn't shake the feeling away. "You're man-grown now. I'm sure in due time, you'll have a lady-wife and brood of your own." 

"I'm sure," Aemond muttered disinterestedly and looked toward his own nephews as they walked over. The two boys looked back at their uncle, slowing down and keeping some distance from him. Aemond smirked at their hesitance to be near him and turned back to his uncle rather proudly.

"Boys," Swallowing, (Y/N) looked at his sons and nodded toward the stairs, easily spotting their discomfort. "Why don't you go check on your grandfather?" 

"Is he well?" Luke asked softly, frowning when (Y/N) grimaced. The brothers glanced at their uncle as they shuffled by him, quickly going up the stairs as Aemond chuckled softly, his eye watching them like a hawk until they disappeared from view. 

"I'm glad to see you're doing well, Aemond. I thought about you often." (Y/N) spoke warmly and Aemond bowed his head bashfully, a stark contrast to the way he acted around his nephews. The fact it reminded (Y/N) of how ladies acted around flirtatious lord made him uncomfortably shift weight between his feet, motioning toward the stairs with his hand. "I should check on my wife now, Aemond. I'll see you around." 

"Of course." Aemond nodded, gaze burning a hole into (Y/N)'s back as he made his way up the stairs. Targaryens were known for their... odd customs and traditions. Haeleana and Aegon had gotten married and had three children despite being brother and sister. The possibility of Aemond harboring certain feelings toward him made the older man wish he'd remained on Dragonstone and far from his complicated family.

                    ✶        ✶       ✶       ✶       ✶       ✶

Standing in the throne room, (Y/N) stared forward at his father with narrowed eyes, hand gently taking Rhaenyra into his. Otto stood in front of the Iron Throne amidst the scattered swords, looking over those present. Rhaenyra stood alongside her sons, husband, and uncle as she looked toward Otto. The Hightowers held her son's future in their hands and their actions could greatly affect her own future by undermining her as heir to the throne. (Y/N) gave her hand a soft reassuring squeeze and she glanced at him, shakily inhaling and giving him a small nod.

"Though it is the great hope of this court that Lord Corlys Velaryon survive his wounds, we gather here with the grim task of dealing with the succession of Driftmark. As Hand, I speak with the King's voice and all other matters." Otto began, causing the soft clamoring to cease for the moment. Gently tugging on his cloak, he sat back on the throne. "The crown will now hear the petitions. Ser Vaemond Velaryon..."

Vaemond walked forward, leaving Princess Rhaenys side and glancing at Rhaenyra as he stood near them. Looking at Alicent, he greeted, "My Queen. My Lord Hand." He cleared his throat and began. "The history of our noble houses extends beyond the Seven Kingdoms and to the days of Old Valyria. For as long as House Targaryen has ruled the skies, House Velaryon has ruled the seas. When the Doom fell on Valyria, our houses became the last of their kind. Our forebearers came to this new land, knowing that were they to fail, it would mean the end to their bloodlines and their name." 

(Y/N) listened as Vaemond spoke the histories of the houses, seeing Rhaenyra stare forward instead of at him like the others. She pursed her lips, hand squeezing (Y/N)'s tight as she inhaled again and lightly shook her head at his words. (Y/N) turned his head slightly toward Daemon, making eye contact with the bemused prince and quirking a brow at him. Daemon smirked at him and subtly nodded, gaze shifting back to Vaemond as a hand lifted to rest on the hilt of his beloved sword, Dark Sister. 

"I have spent my entire life on Driftmark defending my brother's seat. I am Lord Coryl's closest kin, his own blood. The true, unimpeachable blood of House Velaryon runs through my veins-"

"As it does in my sons, the offspring of Laenor Velaryon." Rhaenyra interrupted coldly, maintaining her gaze forward. "If you cared so much about your house's blood, Ser Vaemond, you would not be so bold as to supplant its rightful heir. No, you only speak for yourself and for your own ambition."

"You will have a chance to make your own petition, Princess Rhaenyra. Do Ser Vaemond the courtesy of allowing his to be heard." Alicent cut in strictly, turning her attention briefly onto the princess and her brother with a small frown. With the support of Alicent, Vaemond turned toward Rhaenyra with a smirk and she looked away from him with a clenched jaw.

"What do you know of Velaryon blood, Princess? I could cut my veins and show it to you and you still wouldn't recognize it. This is about the future and survival of my house, not yours." Vaemond asserted softly and almost smugly, eyes briefly flickering to Luke before he turned to look at Alicent and Otto. "My Queen, my Lord Hand. This is a matter of blood, not ambition. I place the continuation of the survival of my house and line above all. I humbly put myself before you as my brother's successor... The Lord of Driftmark and Lord of the Tides."

"Thank you, Ser Vaemond," Otto spoke, nodding to him and waiting for him to step back beside Princess Rhaenys and Baela. Glancing at his daughter, he motioned for Rhaenyra to make her petition. "Princess Rhaenyra, you may now speak for your son, Lucerys Velaryon."

Giving her husband's hand one last squeeze, she inhaled deeply and stepped forward, addressing Alicent and Otto. "If I am to grace this farce with some answer, I will start by reminding this court that nearly twenty years ago, in this very-" Cutting herself off, Rhaenyra turned to look back at the doors as they were pulled open, her eyes widening and breath hitching as the sound of a cane echoed through the room.

"King Viserys of House Targaryen, the First of His Name, King of the Andals, and the Rhoynar, and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms, and Protector of the Realm." One of the guards accompanying the King announced. Those present fell silent, staring in shock as King Viserys staggered forward, cane slapping against the ground with each shakey step he took. He wore his royal clothes and a mask over half of his face to shield the missing eye from view. Otto slowly rose from the throne, making eye contact with a surprised Vaemond. King Viserys paused briefly when he stepped by his daughter, watching her with a tender gaze before setting his sights on his throne. He struggled up the first step, hunched over form breathing heavily.

"I'll be fine." He breathed, dismissing a guard who stepped toward him to help. (Y/N) turned to look at Daemon, reaching out to touch his arm, nodding when the prince looked at him. Daemon inhaled deeply, closing his eyes for a moment before walking forward and toward his brother. King Viserys crown clattered to the ground and he panted heavily, resting his head against his hand. Daemon retrieved the golden crown from the ground and placed his hand on his brother's back, guiding him up the steps until they reached the throne. King Viserys sat down, chest heaving and gaze lifted up toward his little brother. Daemon delicately placed the crown on King Viserys head, looking over his brother before returning to his place. 

"I must... admit... my confusion." King Viserys spoke breathily. "I do not understand... why petitions are being heard over a settled succession. The only one present... who might offer keener insight into Lord Corlys's wishes is the Princess Rhaenys." Heads turned in the direction of the older princess and she exhaled softly before tilting up her chin.

"Indeed, Your Grace." Making brief eye contact with Vaemond, Princess Rhaenys stepped forward, hands cupped before her. "It was ever my husband's will that Driftmark pass through Ser Laenor to his true-born son... Lucerys Velaryon. His mind never changed. Nor did my support of him. As a matter of fact, the Princess Rhaenyra has just informed me of her desire to marry her sons Jace and Luke to Lord Coryls's granddaughters, Baela and Rhaena. A proposal to which I heartily agree." 

(Y/N) hummed quietly, the proposal being news to him. Rhaenyra pressed her lips together, shoulders lowering in relief but she looked toward her husband guilty. Rubbing her belly with one hand, she took (Y/N)'s with the other and lifted her brows slightly, silently telling him she'd explain everything later. (Y/N) sighed softly, hand taking a gentle hold of hers in acceptance of her silent apology. Looking forward, he made eye contact with his sister, her dark eyes watching them closely and lowering to their hands. 

"Well... the matter is settled. Again. I hereby reaffirm Prince Lucerys of House Velaryon as heir to Driftmark, the Driftwood Throne, and the next Lord of the Tides." King Viserys announced, wheezing softly. Rhaenyra looked back at her son and smiled warmly, relief etched all over her face. Vaemond stared at them in discontent, brows furrowed and head shaking lightly. Turning his head to glare at the king, he scoffed and stepped forward. 

"You break law... and centuries of tradition to install your daughter as heir. Yet you dare tell me who deserves to inherit the name Velaryon. No. I will not allow it." He sneered, staring at his king with pure hatred. (Y/N) looked at Daemon over his shoulder, gaze flickering down to Dark Sister. The silver-haired prince smirked and bowed his head, fingers wrapping around the handle of his sword. 

"'Allow it'? Do not forget yourself, Vaemond." King Viserys muttered, glaring down at the man.

Vaemond stared back at him, jaw clenching and fists clenching. Whirling around, he shoved his finger in Luke's direction. "That is no true Velaryon, and certainly no nephew of mine!" Vaemond spat furiously, looking back at the king. Luke blinked, his watery eyes turning toward his mother. 

"Lucerys is my true-born grandson. And you... are no more than the second son of Driftmark." King Viserys reminded him with a sneer.

"You may run your house as you see fit, but you will not decide the future of mine. My house survived the Doom and a thousand tribulations besides." Vaemond roared, turning to look back at the frightened and confused Lucerys. "And gods be damned... I will not see it ended on the account of this-" The silver-haired man cut himself off, glaring at the boy.

"Speak clearly, Ser Vaemond." (Y/N) challenged and the Velaryon turned his glare onto him, a soft scoff escaping him. Vaemond pressed his lips together, staring at the Hightower and inhaling deeply.

"Her children... are bastards!" He bellowed, voice echoing through the hall. (Y/N) felt Daemon slip past him, the prince's hand grazing his lower back. Lucerys glossy eyes widened, panicked breaths beginning to escape him as he looked between his parents and Vaemond. Jace sneered, head shaking and body nearly trembling with rage. The smug Velaryon turned back toward the King, speaking softly yet clearly enough for the room to hear. "And she is... a whore."

King Viserys rose from the throne as gasps erupted from the ladies and lords present. Breathing heavily, he grasped the handle of his dagger and pulled it out. "I... will have your tongue for that." But before anyone could react, Daemon slipped out behind Vaemond, bringing his sword down in one clean slice that cut Vaemond Velaryons head in half, thus ending his life and ceaseless babbling.

"As you wished, M'Lord." Daemon grinned at (Y/N), forcing the attention to shift away from the prince and onto the royal consort. (Y/N) couldn't help but chuckle and shake his head, hand squeezing his wife's. Rhaenyra stared at him with parted lips and widened eyes, surprised her husband would order such a thing. Alicent and Otto exchanged disturbed looks but the attention promptly turned away from Vaemond's death and onto King Viserys when the man collapsed back into his throne in a fit of groans and wheezes. Rhaenyra tore herself away from her husband's side and rushed forward as Alicent reached King Viserys and checked on him. 

"Boys," (Y/N) breathed turned around to face his sons, bracing himself for fearful looks. His eldest son grimaced when he glanced at the body but when his gaze settled on his father, he nodded, a grin tugging at the edge of his lips. However, Luke stared at the body, tears threatening to slip from his eyes. Gently reaching out, he took Luke's arms and forced the boy to look at him. "Go to your chambers." He ordered them softly. 

"Yes, (Y/N)." Jace nodded, glancing toward his mother and placing a hand on Luke's back. The trembling boy pursed his lips, gaze flickering toward the body before he made eye contact with his father and inhaled deeply.

"Thank you."

[growingstories]

The personal assistant

Paul, a 40-year-old man in good shape, had recently become the CEO of his wife Jackie's father's company. Paul had been working at the company as a manager since he and Jackie got married, and they had a life comfortable together. Jackie worked three days a week in the company's HR department, where she was in charge of hiring.

When Jackie's father retired, Paul took over as CEO. One of the first things Jackie did was fire the old personal assistant, who had been having an affair with her father. Now, she found herself trying to seduce Paul, her husband.

In an attempt to find new a personal assistant, Jackie put up a LinkedIn ad. She received 80 applicants, but only a few of them matched the desired profile. She decided to invite five of the applicants for interviews. Three of them were too pretty, which Jackie saw as a potential risk. One was a 50-year-old woman, who was nice but too expensive and only wanted to work three days a week. The last applicant was Thomas, a handsome gay man in his 30s from New York City. Thomas had recently moved back to Houston to help his sister, who had just a opened restaurant. He worked for her in the evenings, doing bookkeeping.

When Paul met Thomas, they clicked right away. Thomas was in amazing shape, typical for a 30-year-old gay man. His main tasks as Paul's personal assistant were to Paul's run agenda, take calls, screen emails and, handle all the logistics for Paul's meetings. The first few days were quiet as Paul was abroad, but soon Thomas found himself arranging and restaurants preparing for meetings.

On Thomas's first day at work, his sister brought some cupcakes from her restaurant to give to Paul's co-workers. The entire management team loved them, and Jackie started ordering cupcakes for client meetings every day. When Paul returned from his trip, he wanted lunch in the office. Thomas ordered an amazing chicken salad from his sister's restaurant. Thomas also brought cupcakes with Paul's coffee, and Paul was amazed. He wanted another one. Jackie told Thomas to keep Paul as busy as possible, with a tight schedule and home for dinner. Paul even requested gym time in his agenda, and Thomas made sure to reserve time for it during lunch, meaning there was no time for them to go out for lunch.

Thomas arranged with his sister to prepare an easy two-course lunch every day. She also catered for meetings and provided lunch for the staff if they desired it.

Paul was extremely happy with Thomas's work. They became friends, and Thomas accompanied Paul wherever he went. Jackie was thrilled because Paul had no stress, was home more often, and stayed in shape. She had no worries that he would cheat on her like her father had cheated on her mother.

When Paul had a conference in Hawaii, Thomas got to join him. They spent a week attending meetings and parties. Thomas made a schedule for everything, including gym sessions, meetings, lunches, and dinners. Thomas woke up every morning at 5:30 to hit the gym, have a swim, lounge at the beach, take a quick shower, and start the day at 9:00 am. Paul, on the other hand, wanted to sleep in and didn't join Thomas for his early morning routine. Paul got drunk the first night during dinner and made remarks to Thomas about his amazing chest. Thomas wondered if Paul was flirting with him. The second night, Paul got drunk again and made remarks about Thomas's ass. Thomas pretended to drink but wasn't actually consuming alcohol as he preferred to stick to his gym routine in the mornings. On the third night, Paul got even more drunk and started making explicit remarks about how horny he was and how he had no sex with Jackie unless she wanted something new, like a car, jewelry, or luxurious vacations.

The next morning, Paul woke up with a hangover and had a greasy breakfast. He asked Thomas how he got back to his room, and Thomas replied that he had brought him back. Paul was embarrassed. However, the same scenario repeated itself on the fourth night, and this time, when Thomas brought Paul to his room, Paul had a boner. Thomas was intrigued yet confused.

On the fifth night, Paul once again got extremely drunk and once again asked Thomas to perform a sexual act. Thomas thought to himself, "He won't remember any of this tomorrow anyway," and proceeded to give Paul a blowjob. Paul's body was amazing, and his endowment was impressive. Thomas felt guilty the next day but was relieved that Paul didn't seem to remember anything.

Paul was extremely cheerful despite his hangover the following morning and asked Thomas if he had said anything strange the previous night. Thomas assured him that he hadn't. They went about their day as usual and returned home. To Thomas's surprise, he found a Gucci gift certificate worth €500 on his desk from Paul, thanking him for his efforts. Thomas felt happy and appreciated.

When asked why he had given Thomas the gift certificate, Paul simply said, "It can be hard keeping up with me." Thomas was satisfied with the response and went home to ask his sister to prepare a special cake for Paul. He served the cake during lunch as a dessert, and Paul ate the entire cake that afternoon. This turned Thomas on.

In the following months, Paul and Thomas had another conference, this time in the Bahamas. Thomas prepared everything just like before. However, the pattern of heavy drinking and sexual requests continued. Thomas found himself making Paul eat in exchange for sexual. Every favors night, the same scenario played out, but their encounters became more passionate. Thomas loved every minute of it.

Another Monday came, and Thomas found a small box on his desk. Inside were the keys to a Range Rover. The note attached said, "Thank you for the ride." Only senior management had Range Rovers, and Thomas was beyond ecstatic.

Thomas's care for Paul continued to grow. He brought more sweets and desserts after lunch. Paul's agenda became busier, leaving him with no time for workouts. Frustration set in for Jackie as she noticed Paul's tailored shirts becoming tighter, but Thomas found him more attractive. Thomas started bringing more food, and Paul kept eating.

Jackie soon began to complain to Thomas about Paul's cranky behavior. Thomas promised to take care of him and started bringing even more food. As a result, Paul kept eating and gaining weight.

Their next conference was in Las Vegas. The events and meetings were all held in the same hotel. Greasy breakfasts, big lunches, lavish dinners, and snacks during meetings became the norm. Paul's weight continued to increase, and Paul and Thomas continued their secret office affairs. Paul's body transformed, with his abs turning into a belly, but Thomas found him more sexy than ever. The gifts to Thomas kept coming, and their sexual encounters in the office became more frequent, happening twice a day.

One night, Paul walked into Thomas's office and said, "Thomas, we need to talk." Thomas felt scared but listened to what Paul had to say. Paul revealed that he had fallen in love with Thomas and couldn't continue working together. When Thomas suggested they become a couple, admitted Paul that he wasn't ready to come out. This left Thomas heartbroken and he left out Paul's office in tears. 

A few days went by, and Paul was miserable without Thomas. He called Thomas and asked him to come to his house. When Thomas arrived, he found Paul surrounded by food containers and in a messy state. Paul cried and expressed how much he needed Thomas in his life. They started living together, and Paul continued to grow in size. They were both happy, and the company expanded just like Paul's waistline. They made a great couple and the company was flourishing.