#i don't if if they are from my glasses or my eyes

[nonranghaes]

heads up: reader wears glasses and can't see SHIT.

joshua prides himself on being a gentleman to you. he's always been respectful of your boundaries, he's careful with his words when he knows you're having a rough time, and he always walks you to your door after every date just to make sure you get inside safely. he's a gentleman, even though you've heard his witty comments and seen how playful he can be... and heard from his friends about the pranks he's pulled on them. a gentleman with a sense of humor, you'll say.

so when he pulls out the chair next to you while you're doing graduate school work, already smiling like he has a plan, you don't know what to expect. you glance up at him over the rims of your glasses, giving him a little smile and a 'hey,' before you go back to your work.

"may i?"

again, you look up, curious of the vague request. he reaches forward, fingers careful as they come to the sides of your glasses. he's just as careful when he slowly pulls them off, mindful to not accidentally poke you in the eye in the process before he turns them around and puts them on. "how do i--"

and then he stops. he squints at you. you fight back a smile as you watch him, eternally thankful that he's sitting close enough that you can see the horror on his face (albeit a little blurry--there's a reason why you have to hold things so close to your face if you misplace your glasses, after all).

"oh my god," his voice is softer now, and he blinks at you a few times, "how do you see anything?"

you close your textbook. you can finish these notes later: you wouldn't have invited him to join you if you couldn't. "well," you rest your head in your hand, "i wear glasses for that."

joshua doesn't take them off yet. he slides them down his nose a little so that he can look at you, and he's a little too cute when he does it. "yeah," he's smiling, a tinge of laughter coloring his voice, "you look cute in them." he licks his lips a little as he quickly debates whether he should go through with the initial plan. "... do i?"

"eh." you don't bother fighting back your smile. "they're not your style."

"what, so i'm not a sexy librarian?" he grins as he leans in, his fingers under your chin to draw you in a little, "or, i don't know--a hot professor? i think i could pull it off."

you just close the distance between the two of you for a quick kiss. "ask me when i can actually see you again."

the mischievous glint in his eye tells you that he absolutely will. but he keeps your glasses for a moment longer, just long enough to take a picture with you. you pretend not to notice when it becomes his new lockscreen later.

[bunny-jpeg]

the golden years

fernando alonso

tags: smut/pwp, age gap (22/43), sugar daddy au, ditzy!reader, rough sex, daddy kink, doggy style, chokehold, dirty talk, mean!fernando, age kink (?)

fernando knew that it had been a good few years since he won a world championship. the two time world champion felt the crawl of age when you looked at him with such innocent eyes and said,

"two-thousand and six? i was like... four years old!"

fernando could feel the grey hairs as you said that. you were twenty-two years old, you were born the year that fernando started in formula one. he knew what he was getting himself into, but to put in that sort of perspective made him feel old.

he ran a hand through your hair and said, "i guess that is right, my love." then patted your cheek, "why don't we get started on dinner."

you ciripus looked at him as you put your hand on his thigh. you said to him tenderly, "but, daddy... it's only one in the afternoon? we don't have to make dinner that early!"

fernando watched you by the pool in his yard. he had watched you in that little green bikini clean out the leaves from the pool earlier. you looked adorable as he eyed your behind as you bent over to shake the leaves from the net. you cutely scolded the leaves when they ended up in the grass. you were just a little airhead, weren't you? you were at times painfully innocent, and fernando enjoyed being a guiding hand in your life. especially when his hand was in your hair and had you bent over.

today he had invited you over, anything to get you away from the little shoebox you refused to move from. he enjoyed the sight of you in his space. to have you in his home. it was where you belonged. it didn't help that you were to die for in the little outfits that showed off a lot of skin and all of your curves. all clothes bought with fernando's credit card. he happily bought you clothes that he could eye fuck you in.

he liked you in pastels, in cuts that showed off your breasts and skirts that he could flip up easily, preferably with no panties underneath. you were his questionably younger lover, but fernando couldn't care less.

let them stare, it only encouraged fernando to claim you further. to keep you as his. he continued to watch you from the patio door as you moved the lounging chair further on the grass where the sun was the strongest. you then laid out on it with your gossip magazine.

you looked nicer than any trophy that fernando had. the metal looked duller compared to your gleaming smile. he moved outside and into the yard, his eyes hungry for you. and you barely noticed him as he approached, you were too engrossed with the trashy articles. you didn't see your sugar daddy approaching you.

he eyed your figure closer. the pastel green looked lovely against your skin. the top of your bikini pressed your breasts together and then a bead sweat dripped down the valley of your plush breasts.

you only noticed him when he blocked the sun from your face. you tipped your glasses down and looked at him, "yes, daddy?" he only noticed the gloss on your lips, he wondered if it was the expensive gloss that you begged to have. you were very good at getting what you wanted. fernando liked to spoil you.

"someone enjoying the sun today?" he sat by your stretched out legs. he ran his hand up and down your exposed thigh, "no one else has seen this, have they?" a small curl of pleasure in his gut at the sight of you. his words were tinged with mild possession.

you were all his.

"fernando." you giggled a little, "i guess someone want more than just some sun, huh?" you smiled with more warmth than any prize he could obtain. you were a mini sun in your own right.

"well, you're much brighter than the sun, my love." he continued to rub your leg. you looked at him and smiled brightly at him. he only returned the favourite, but his touch felt possessive. "next time." he said, "i need to buy you a different swimsuit. they'll be tripping over themselves at the sight of you."

"because i look so bad?"

"no, because you look too good." fernando leaned forward and kissed you on the lips. you tasted like bubblegum. he groaned into the kiss before he pressed further into you. his strong hands held onto your shoulders.

you lived a charmed little life with fernando wrapped around your fingers. you didn't abuse your power, you were a good girl after all. if you were good girl, then he'd be good to you. you ended up leaned further back in the chair and moaned into a heated kiss. his hands were on your soft breasts, you panted against him, "please, honey. i need you. it has been too long."

"daddy."

"princess." he said softly, "i know we just did it this morning. i made you squirm under me. you sounded so beautiful when you came." he chuckled against your heated skin. warmed from the sun, "so beautiful, no one else can have in that way. the way i do. you're all mine."

his tone was possessive and his touches were even more so. it wasn't long before you ended up with the chair all the way back and you on your stomach. fernando was between your legs as he eyed your behind in the green bikini bottoms. they framed your ass beautifully, but the fabric looked better thrown into the pool and his cock up against your behind. you felt amazing even if he wasn't having sex with you yet.

that was soon changed with almost seven inched sank inside of your needy little cunt. you fit him perfectly, it did take a while for you to get used to his cock. it was a little too big for someone like you. it felt good to do it outside, the sun on your skin while your lover drilled his cock into you.

"fuck, princess. look at you,, you need this, you want this my cock inside of your little pussy. you know this is where it belongs." he groaned as he continued to fuck you.

"please, daddy! ah, fernando!" you were obsessed with him. you wanted him in every way you could get your hands on him. in reality he was as equal as obsessed with you.

fernando wanted you deeply, to ruin you for anyone else. so you'd only want him, even if fernando stopped spoiling you with gifts (unlikely), but he'd always spoil you with orgasms.

you moved against the chair with his movements, it felt arousing as your nipples rubbed up against your bikini top and the chair. you gasped and your back arched as his cock hit just the right place. he could hear everything you had, it was only right that you gave him some sugar, to let him devour you beautifully.

"no one else." he said, "no one else, but you." he combed his fingers through your hair as he continued to move against you. he kissed at the nape of your neck and felt you shudder against him. there was a certain quality to you that pulled him in. that he loved. as he thrusted into you, he felt a tug of devotion in his chest for you. like a single angelic prayer, any prayers he had were answered when you came into his life.

beautiful, playful and so fucking dumb.

he happily paid and you gave him all the loving he wanted. all he needed. why would he look for anyone else when he could easily have you for the rest of your his days. plus, with you, he could be selfish.

"you feel like heaven, my love." he purred as he continued to move. he felt everything and it made him only hungry for more. he licked his lips before he planted more kisses on your heated skin. his angel, inside and out.

"don't flatter me."

"it's not flattery if it's true." he replied as he continued to fuck your achy cunt until you were moaning loudly. he could feel the noises echo in his body, maybe he was obsessed with you, but, hey, that was why he slipped into your bank account . the growing balance of euros every time he sank into your heavenly cut.

you moaned against the chair and held onto the edge of it tightly as he continued to batter your achy sex. fuck, it felt amazing. you exhaled deeply and your back bent a little more.

"you know i love you, i adore you more than anything. you are picture perfect." his words were hungry and left warmth pooled in your gut, "you are all mine, you don't want any other man. just me, right?" he let out a groan. his pace was quick and hit against all the right areas.

you couldn't have anyone else because fernado was selfish with your attention, with your love. he wanted you. you were pushed as far as you could go up against the chair with your lover's heavy movements. your noises were loud, but you had a fair bit of privacy so it wasn't a big deal that you were so loud.

fernando kissed your neck once more and your clutched onto the chair tightly. you panted heavily and he moved roughly. the fucking between you two was hot and you were both loud in the privacy of the yard.

"you're perfect, at my pool, in my house, you're all mine. i thought you that little bikini even the earrings you wear. all mine, just like your pretty pussy." his words excited you dearly as he worked your body under him. there were words that died on your tongue and only left you with hot moans. "you take me wonderfully." he groaned as he pushed your face against the chair as his cock bullied and possibly bruised your insides. as great as it could be.

you panted into the fabric as your cunt clenched around him. you groaned loudly into the seat as you came around his cock. he continued his rapid movements to fuck you into a lovely submission.

it only spurred fernando on, he worked you body as you were in a post orgasmic bliss. you gladly let him do whatever he wanted and with a few more heavy thrusts he finished inside of you. it was a blessing to finish inside of you that way.

he rode through his orgasm and eventually slowed to a stop. he kissed your hot skin and dragged his short nails across your hips, skin soft against his fingers, another perfect part of you. he kissed you once more before he pulled out.

"fuck." you gasped as you panted through the heavy heat.

fernando said slyly, his hands still on you, "why don't you get your bottoms back on and let's go play the pool."

you giggled, "aren't you a little old for playing?"

he gazed at your backside as you shifted under him. he grinned to himself, " i enjoy playing with you, my love." then kissed your back, "i'd do it every day if i could."

you exhaled on the chair one last time before you went to find your bottoms. fernando admired you as you were near naked in his backyard. he grasped his exposed cock for a moment and licked his lips. he wondered if you could fuck you in the green grass next." <3

[rootedinrevisions]

A Holiday to Remember

SUMMARY: When plans with your family fall through, an unexpected invitation leads you to spending Christmas with Glen - and his lively, close-knit family. You find yourself swept up in the warmth of holiday traditions and the undeniable pull of a connection you never saw coming. Between stolen moments under twinkling lights and whispered confessions, the boundaries of friendship blur, leaving you to wonder if this Christmas could be the start of something extraordinary or just a fleeting holiday dream.

A/N: So I was hoping to have this out before or on Christmas but then I got writer's block and struggled to finish it. And then I got inspiration...maybe too much inspiration. I watched Anyone But You and then a couple Hallmark movies so this definitely has a rom-com/cheesy Hallmark vibe to it. That's also why this is so long because as I was watching those movies I got ideas for moments to add to the story. But hopefully you all enjoy this!

WARNINGS: Some light cursing, maybe? Otherwise I don't think there's any warnings. Just 17k words of cute fluffy wholesomeness.

WORD COUNT: 17.5k (I got a little carried away with this one.)

TAGS: In Comments

The warm glow of string lights hung delicately along the restaurant's windows, casting a cozy hue on the bustling Los Angeles sidewalk. You took a deep breath, smoothing your sweater as you stepped inside, the gentle hum of conversation and clinking glasses enveloping you.

Approaching the host stand, you offered a polite smile. "Hi, I’m here for Glen Powell’s reservation."

The host, a young woman with a sleek bob and a professional smile, glanced at her list before nodding. "Of course. Right this way." She grabbed a menu and gestured for you to follow her through the dimly lit dining room.

As you weaved between tables, your nerves fluttered faintly, though you weren’t sure why. It wasn’t like this was anything new—just dinner with Glen. Something you’d done dozens of times.

The host led you to a table tucked in the back corner, offering a little more privacy from the busy main floor. Glen spotted you almost immediately. He set his phone down and stood up, his familiar, easy grin spreading across his face as he opened his arms.

“There she is,” he said warmly, pulling you into a hug as soon as you reached him. His cologne—a blend of something woodsy and clean—wrapped around you, as comforting as the embrace itself.

“Sorry I’m late,” you murmured against his shoulder before pulling back. “Traffic was a nightmare.”

He waved off your apology as you both sat down, his smile never faltering. “You’re in L.A.��isn’t traffic always a nightmare?” He leaned forward slightly, his elbows resting on the edge of the table. “Besides, you’re here now, and that’s all that matters.”

The way his gaze lingered on you for just a second too long made your stomach flutter, but you quickly pushed the feeling aside. It was Glen, your friend. Nothing more.

You picked up the menu and skimmed over the options, even though you weren’t really focusing on the words. Glen sat across from you, flipping his own menu open but still managing to glance your way every few moments.

“So,” you asked, breaking the comfortable silence. “How’s the movie coming along? Are you still filming, or are you finally getting some time to breathe?”

Glen chuckled softly, setting the menu down as he leaned back in his chair. “We wrapped a few days ago, actually. Post-production is in full swing now, so it’s out of my hands now. Now I can take a break and get some normalcy.”

“Normalcy,” you repeated, arching an eyebrow. “For you, that probably means jetting off somewhere, doesn’t it?”

He smirked, the corners of his eyes crinkling. “Okay, maybe my version of ‘normal’ is a little skewed. But I’m just going back to Austin for a few days. Nothing too crazy. What about you? How’s work? Are they letting you off the hook at all this holiday season?”

You sighed, your eyes drifting back to the menu as you tried to keep your voice light. “It’s fine. Busy, as always. But I guess that’s better than having nothing to do, right?”

He frowned slightly, studying you with an intensity that made you squirm just a little. “You sure you’re doing okay?”

“Yeah,” you said quickly, forcing a smile. “I’m good. It’s just—work has been hectic, and I haven’t really had time to think about the holidays.”

His brow furrowed. “Wait. Don’t tell me you’re not going home for Christmas.”

You hesitated, suddenly feeling self-conscious. “It’s just… complicated,” you admitted, your voice quieter now. “My family’s so far away, and with work, I just couldn’t make the timing work. So, yeah, I’ll be here this year. But it’s not a big deal.”

Glen’s jaw tightened, and you could practically see the wheels turning in his head. “You’re spending Christmas alone?”

You shrugged, trying to play it off. “I’ll survive.”

“No way,” he said firmly, shaking his head. “That’s not happening.”

You blinked, startled by his sudden intensity. “What do you mean?”

“I mean you’re coming with me,” he said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “To Texas. You can’t spend Christmas alone—that’s just… wrong.”

“Glen,” you began, already shaking your head. “I can’t just crash your family’s holiday. That’s not fair to them—or to you.”

“They’d love you,” he interrupted, his tone leaving no room for argument. “And it’s not crashing if you’re invited. Which you are. Officially. Come on, what’s holding you back?”

You opened your mouth to protest again, but the way he was looking at you—earnest, determined, like he wouldn’t take no for an answer—made the words catch in your throat.

“It’s just a couple of days,” he added, his voice softening now. “And I promise, it’ll be fun. Think of it as an adventure.”

You hesitated, your resolve wavering under the weight of his sincerity. Maybe, just maybe, he was right.

“Glen, I can’t just pack up and leave,” you said, trying to keep your tone firm. “I only have a couple of days off for the holiday, and—”

“Perfect,” he interrupted with a grin. “I’m only staying three days anyway. We’ll head out the morning of the 23rd, and we’ll be back by the 26th.”

You narrowed your eyes at him. “It’s not that simple. Do you know how expensive last-minute flights are right now? Not to mention the hassle of even finding one—everything’s probably booked solid.”

His grin didn’t falter. “I’ll help you find a flight. Hell, I’ll even cover it if that’s what’s holding you back.”

Your eyebrows shot up. “Glen, no. You’re not paying for my ticket.”

“Why not? Consider it my Christmas gift to you,” he said, leaning back in his chair with a casual shrug, as if he hadn’t just offered something outrageous.

You scoffed. “You’re insane.”

“I’m resourceful,” he corrected, his eyes twinkling with amusement. “And if it really comes down to it, I’ll fly you there myself.”

You couldn’t help but laugh at that, shaking your head. “Now that seems like a gross misuse of your pilot’s license.”

“Desperate times call for desperate measures,” he said with a smirk.

You rolled your eyes, but his determination was starting to chip away at your defenses. “Glen, I appreciate the offer, but I really don’t want to intrude on your family’s holiday. It’s their time with you, and I’d just be—”

“A welcome guest,” he cut in, his voice softer now. “Trust me, they’d love to have you there. My mom’s been asking when she’s going to meet my mysterious ‘friend’ I talk about anyway. This is the perfect chance.”

Your cheeks warmed at that, and you looked away, suddenly very interested in the pattern on your napkin. “I don’t know…”

“Come on,” he urged, leaning forward and resting his forearms on the table. “It’ll be fun. You’ll get to relax, eat some great food, and experience the chaos that is my family at Christmas. What do you have to lose?”

You sighed, knowing he wasn’t going to let this go. “What about the fact that I’ll probably end up sharing a room with one of your nieces or sleeping on the couch? Not exactly my idea of a restful holiday.”

“Wrong again,” he said with a triumphant grin. “We will be staying at my place. I have plenty of space. I’ll even take the couch if you want the nice bed.”

You laughed despite yourself, the mental image of Glen curled up on his own couch making it impossible to stay serious. “You’re ridiculous.”

“And you’re running out of excuses,” he pointed out, his grin widening. “So? What’s it going to be?”

You hesitated, your gaze meeting his. There was something in his eyes—an openness, a genuine warmth—that made it hard to say no.

“Fine,” you said finally, throwing your hands up in defeat. “You win. I’ll go.”

His face lit up, and he reached across the table to squeeze your hand. “You won’t regret it. I promise.”

“You’d better be right,” you teased, though you couldn’t help but smile back at him.

* * * * *

The late afternoon sun cast a golden glow across the Austin skyline as Glen navigated the bustling city streets, the hum of his truck filling the comfortable silence. You sat quietly in the passenger seat, staring out the window at the vibrant murals and quirky storefronts that zipped past. Normally, you’d be chatting nonstop, asking Glen a million questions about the city or teasing him about his questionable playlist choices. But now, your hands fidgeted in your lap, and your lips pressed into a thin line, your mind elsewhere.

“You’re kind of quiet over there. You’ve said about five words since we got here,” Glen remarked, his voice light but tinged with curiosity. He glanced at you briefly, his brows furrowing in concern before turning his attention back to the road. “That’s gotta be some kind of record for you.”

You blinked, his comment pulling you from your thoughts. Turning to face him, you tried to muster a small smile. “Sorry. Just... a lot on my mind, I guess.”

Glen didn’t look convinced. “Uh-huh,” he said, his tone skeptical. “This wouldn’t have anything to do with meeting my family, would it?”

You sighed, leaning your head back against the seat. “Maybe a little.”

He chuckled softly, shaking his head. “Relax! You’ve got nothing to worry about, you know. They’re going to love you. I’m the one they’re stuck with, remember?”

You couldn’t help but laugh at that, but the sound was short-lived. “It’s not that I’m worried they won’t like me,” you admitted. “It’s just... I don’t know. What if I say something dumb? Or trip over the Christmas tree? Or—”

“Hey,” Glen interrupted, his voice gentle. At a red light, he reached over and placed a warm hand on your knee, giving it a reassuring squeeze. “You’re overthinking this. My family’s not expecting perfection, okay? They’re just excited to meet the person I’ve been talking about nonstop for the last couple of months.”

Your eyes widened at his confession, heat rushing to your cheeks. “You’ve been talking about me?”

Glen grinned, the light turning green as he started driving again. “Obviously. What kind of friend would I be if I didn’t brag about how great you are?” He paused, then added with a teasing smirk, “Although I may have left out the part where you can’t handle spicy food. Don’t let my mom’s salsa scare you off, alright?”

That earned a genuine laugh from you, and Glen shot you a quick, satisfied look before turning his attention back to the road.

As the city gave way to sprawling suburbs and then the open, winding roads on the edge of Austin, Glen’s demeanor remained steady—calm, reassuring, and lighthearted. He pointed out landmarks along the way, sharing stories about his time growing up in the area and cracking jokes to pull you out of your nervous headspace.

“You doing okay over there?” he asked after a while, glancing at you again.

“Yeah,” you said softly, a small smile tugging at your lips. “Thanks for putting up with me.”

“Putting up with you?” Glen repeated, feigning offense. “You think I invited you out here because I had to? Please.”

The sincerity in his tone caught you off guard, your heart skipping a beat. Before you could dwell on it too much, Glen reached over to nudge your shoulder playfully. 

“Seriously, relax,” he said with a grin. “You’ll fit right in. And if anyone gives you a hard time, they’ll have to answer to me.”

You smiled at that, the knot in your stomach loosening slightly. Glen had a way of making you feel like everything was going to be okay, even when your own thoughts tried to convince you otherwise.

When he finally pulled into the gravel driveway of his house, nestled on a quiet piece of land just outside the city, the sun was beginning to set, painting the sky in shades of orange and pink. Glen parked the truck and turned to you with an encouraging smile.

“Alright,” he said, unbuckling his seatbelt. “First stop: my place. Let’s drop off your stuff and then we’ll head over to my parents’ house. Sound good?”

“Yeah,” you said, taking a deep breath as you climbed out of the truck. “Sounds good.”

Glen led the way up the front porch steps, his boots thudding lightly against the wood. He unlocked the door and pushed it open, stepping aside to let you enter first.

“Welcome to Casa de Glen,” he said with a grin, sweeping his arm theatrically as you stepped inside.

The interior was exactly what you’d imagined—a perfect blend of cozy and modern. Warm wood floors stretched throughout the open-concept space, and the living room featured a large leather couch and a stone fireplace that was clearly the centerpiece of the room. A framed poster of Top Gun: Maverick hung on one wall, balanced by shelves filled with books, photos, and a few sports trophies.

“Wow,” you said, taking it all in. “It’s nice. It feels... you.”

“That’s what I was going for,” he said, closing the door behind you. “Come on, I’ll show you around.”

He guided you through the living room and into the kitchen, which was sleek and modern with stainless steel appliances and a large island in the center. “This is where the magic happens,” he said, patting the countertop. “By magic, I mean reheating leftovers and making the occasional breakfast taco.”

You laughed, running your hand along the cool stone of the counter. “Very impressive.”

He pointed out a small office that doubled as a gym, then led you to the back door, which opened onto a sprawling patio overlooking a modest backyard. Twinkling string lights were strung across the patio, and a firepit sat off to the side, surrounded by chairs.

“This is great,” you said, stepping out onto the patio and taking in the peaceful view.

“It’s my favorite spot,” Glen admitted, leaning against the doorframe. “If you need to escape the chaos over the next few days, feel free to sneak out here.”

The offer warmed your heart, but before you could respond, Glen pushed off the doorframe and motioned back inside. “Come on, let’s get your bags upstairs.”

He carried your suitcase up the staircase, which was adorned with simple but tasteful decorations—a mix of family photos, framed movie posters, and a few awards he’d picked up over the years. At the top of the stairs, he turned to the left and opened a door.

“This is the guest room,” he said, stepping aside to let you enter.

The room was cozy, with a plush queen-sized bed covered in a navy-blue comforter, a small desk by the window, and a few decorative touches that made it feel welcoming—a basket of rolled-up blankets, a lamp with a warm glow, and a stack of books on the nightstand.

“This is nice,” you said, setting your carry-on bag down by the bed.

“I figured you’d want your own space,” Glen said, setting your suitcase by the desk. “Bathroom’s just down the hall, and there are extra towels in the closet if you need them.”

“Thanks,” you said softly, meeting his eyes.

He hesitated for a moment, as if debating whether to say something, before giving you a small smile. “Alright, let me show you the rest of the upstairs.”

You followed him back out into the hall, where he pointed out the bathroom and a smaller guest room that had been converted into a second office. Finally, he led you to the master bedroom at the end of the hall.

“And this is where the magic really happens,” he joked, pushing open the door to reveal a spacious room with a king-sized bed, a walk-in closet, and a sliding door that led to a private balcony.

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help laughing. “You and your magic. I’m starting to think you have a pretty loose definition of the word.”

“Hey, I have my moments,” he said with a wink.

He led you back downstairs, where the tour ended in the living room. “Alright, that’s the grand tour,” he said, clapping his hands together. “What do you think?”

“It’s great,” you said honestly. “It feels very...you. Like even if I didn’t know this was your house I could see you fitting in here.”

And you meant it. You’d been to Glen’s place in Los Angeles before. And it was comfortable and fine enough. But it felt more like a bachelor pad. But this house here in Austin felt like him. It felt like home.

“Good,” he said, his smile softening. “I’m glad you like it. Now, you ready to meet the chaos that is my family?”

Your stomach flipped nervously, but Glen’s easy smile was enough to settle you. “Ready as I’ll ever be,” you said.

“Perfect,” he said, grabbing his keys off the counter. “Let’s do this.”

*****

The truck rumbled to a stop in front of the charming two-story house, its exterior painted a warm cream color with dark green shutters. Wreaths adorned the windows, and strings of twinkling lights outlined the roof, giving it a postcard-worthy holiday glow. Glen shifted the truck into park, but before he could even cut the engine, the front door burst open, and a wave of people spilled out onto the porch.

“Here we go,” Glen muttered with a grin, glancing at you. “Brace yourself.”

Your heart raced as his mom was the first to step forward, her arms already open as she made her way down the steps. Cyndy Powell was the picture of warmth, her hair perfectly styled, and her face glowing with excitement. Behind her, Glen’s dad, Glen Sr., stood with an easygoing smile, hands tucked into the pockets of his jacket. His sisters weren’t far behind—Leslie, the youngest, bounced on her toes with a wide grin, while Lauren, the oldest, followed at a more measured pace, one hand gripping the tiny hand of Glen’s nephew. Glen’s niece trailed behind, clinging to Lauren’s husband.

“Glen!” Cyndy called, waving both hands like she hadn’t seen her son in years, even though he’d assured you it had only been a couple of weeks.

You opened your door cautiously as Glen hopped out of the truck, meeting his mom halfway with a hug. 

“Hey, Mom,” he said, his voice filled with affection.

Cyndy pulled back just enough to cup his face. “You look too thin,” she said, making him laugh. “Are you eating?”

“I’m fine, Mom,” Glen assured her, glancing over his shoulder at you.

You hesitated for half a second before stepping out of the truck, suddenly feeling like every pair of eyes was on you. Cyndy’s expression shifted immediately to one of pure delight as she made a beeline for you.

“And you must be the one Glen keeps telling us about!” she said, pulling you into a hug before you could even respond. “Oh, it’s so good to finally meet you. I’m Cyndy.”

“Hi, Mrs. Powell,” you managed, your voice slightly muffled by the hug. “It’s really nice to meet you, too.”

“Oh, please, call me Cyndy,” she insisted, pulling back to hold you at arm’s length. “You’re even prettier than Glen said.”

“Mom,” Glen groaned, rubbing the back of his neck as he came to stand beside you.

“What?” Cyndy said innocently before ushering you both toward the rest of the group. “Come on, everyone’s dying to meet her.”

One by one, you were introduced—Glen Sr., who gave you a firm handshake and a kind smile; Leslie, who immediately wrapped you in a hug and declared you were “way too cool to be hanging out with Glen”; Lauren, who gave you a warm smile and said she’d heard so much about you; and finally, Lauren’s twins, who peeked out from behind their dad shyly until Glen crouched down to scoop them up in a playful hug.

“Alright, alright,” Glen said, standing with a twin on each hip as he turned back to his family. “Let her breathe, would you? She’s not used to all this chaos.”

“Chaos?” Cyndy said, feigning offense. “This is love, Glen. Pure holiday love.”

You laughed, but Glen caught the way your shoulders tensed, and he stepped closer, his hand resting lightly on your lower back. “You okay?” he asked softly, his tone just for you.

“Yeah,” you said quickly, offering him a reassuring smile. “It’s just... a lot.”

“Don’t worry,” he said with a wink. “I’ll run interference if I have to.”

Before you could respond, Cyndy was ushering everyone inside, rattling off questions about the drive and insisting you must be starving after traveling all day. You followed the group into the house, which was every bit as welcoming as its exterior—soft, cozy furniture, a roaring fire in the living room, and the scent of something sweet wafting from the kitchen.

You shrugged out of your coat and Glen stepped closer, his hands brushing against your shoulders as he helped slide it off. The gesture was so natural, so easy, that it sent a little flutter through your chest.

“Here, I’ll take that.” His voice was casual, but the faint smile he gave you as he carefully hung your coat on the rack was anything but.

As he turned back to you, Cyndy leaned in with a knowing smile, her voice low enough that only you could hear. “He’s been so excited to bring you home. You should’ve heard him talk about it.”

You blinked, caught off guard by the comment, your cheeks warming as her words sank in. “Oh,” you managed, a little breathless.

Cyndy’s hand lingered on your arm for just a moment, her expression soft with unmistakable affection. “You’ll see,” she added with a wink, before stepping away to call to her husband about something in the kitchen.

When you turned back to Glen, he was watching you, his head tilted slightly. “What was that about?” he asked, his tone light but his curiosity clear.

“Oh, nothing,” you said quickly, trying to wave it off. But you couldn’t quite keep the smile from tugging at your lips—or the slight flush from creeping up your neck.

Glen’s eyes narrowed playfully. “Uh-huh. Sure.” He didn’t push, though, instead gesturing for you to follow him. “Come on. Let’s grab something to drink before everyone starts peppering you with questions.”

The moment lingered as you followed him into the house, Cyndy’s words echoing in your mind. The idea of Glen talking about you—being excited to bring you here—was hard to shake. Maybe it was just his family’s charm, or maybe it was something else entirely. Either way, you couldn’t help the quiet smile that stayed on your face as Glen led the way.

* * * * *

With a steaming mug of cocoa warming your hands, you smiled politely as Glen's mom chatted animatedly about the Powell family Christmas traditions. You nodded along, but the flurry of introductions and the cozy chaos of his family had you feeling a little overwhelmed. Sensing your chance for a breather, you leaned toward Glen.

“Excuse me for a minute,” you murmured, setting your mug down on the counter.

He shot you a curious look but nodded, letting you slip away.

You wandered down the hall, grateful for the moment to collect yourself. After freshening up in the restroom, you made your way back toward the kitchen, but you stopped short as voices drifted toward you from the other side of the doorway.

“...she’s adorable, Glen. Seriously,” one of his sisters—Lauren, you thought—said with a teasing lilt.

“And you brought her home for Christmas?” Leslie chimed in, her voice lilting with mock surprise.

Glen groaned, and you could practically hear him rubbing his hand over his face. “Guys, come on. We’re just friends.”

“Right,” Lauren said, drawing the word out like she didn’t believe him for a second. “Just friends, and yet you insisted she come here instead of spending Christmas alone. Sounds like something a boyfriend would do, don’t you think, Les?”

“Definitely boyfriend behavior,” Leslie agreed, clearly enjoying herself.

“You two are impossible,” Glen muttered, though his tone carried more amusement than frustration. “I didn’t want her to spend the holidays alone, okay?”

Your breath caught at his words, warmth spreading through your chest.

“Sure, sure,” Lauren said, her tone sly. “But just so you know, Mom’s already planning the wedding.”

Glen let out a sharp laugh. “There isn’t going to be a wedding. Let’s dial it back a little, huh? She’s nervous enough as it is without you two scaring her off.”

You took a step back, considering whether to linger a moment longer, but the sound of chairs scraping against the floor signaled that Glen’s sisters were on the move. Quickly, you stepped into the doorway, pretending you hadn’t heard a thing.

“Oh, there she is,” Leslie said with a grin as she and Lauren passed you.

Glen leaned back against the counter, arms crossed, his brow lifting as you stepped inside. “You okay?” he asked, his voice soft and genuine.

You nodded, though your gaze lingered on him for a moment longer than you intended. “Yeah, just needed a minute. Your family’s really nice, by the way.”

A small smile tugged at his lips. “They’re a handful, but they mean well.”

You walked over to retrieve your cocoa, the rich chocolate aroma grounding you. “They seem really excited to have everyone together.”

“Yeah, it’s kind of their thing,” Glen said, watching you closely. “What about you? You hanging in there?”

You shrugged lightly, a small smile playing at your lips. “It’s a lot, but… in a good way. It’s been a while since I’ve been around a big family like this.”

Glen straightened, stepping closer so his arm brushed against yours. “Well, they already love you.”

You laughed softly, shaking your head. His grin widened, but before he could say more, his mom’s voice rang out from the living room, calling for him to help bring in the extra chairs for dinner.

He sighed dramatically, earning another laugh from you. “Duty calls,” he said, but his hand lightly touched your arm as he passed. “Don’t let them rope you into anything too crazy while I’m gone.”

You smiled, watching as he left the room. Something about being here—with him—felt unexpectedly right.

* * * * *

The kitchen buzzed with activity as Glen’s mom and sisters dove into dinner preparations. The smell of roasted turkey and fresh-baked rolls filled the air, making your stomach rumble despite the cocoa you’d just finished. Cyndy was meticulously checking the oven temperature, while Lauren and Leslie were chopping vegetables at the kitchen island.

“Need any help?” you asked hesitantly, stepping further into the room.

Lauren glanced up with a warm smile. “You’re sweet to offer, but trust me, this kitchen is already at max capacity.”

“Speak for yourself,” Leslie said, pointing her knife toward the pile of unpeeled carrots. “Here, grab a peeler. You can help me out before Mom has a meltdown over the timing.”

Cyndy turned from the oven, mock-offended. “I heard that!”

Leslie just smirked as she handed you a peeler and a couple of carrots. “Ignore her. She loves when we tease her. Keeps things interesting.”

You laughed softly and settled in next to Leslie, grateful for something to do with your hands.

“So, how are you holding up?” Leslie asked after a moment, her voice quieter, more personal.

You glanced at her, surprised by the question. “Oh, um… good, I think. Your family’s been really welcoming.”

“We’re loud, though,” Lauren chimed in, pausing her slicing to grin at you. “Hopefully Glen warned you about that.”

“It’s a good kind of loud,” you said honestly, feeling more at ease with them. “I’m just… not used to it, I guess.”

Leslie nudged you lightly with her elbow. “Well, if you can survive the Powell family Christmas chaos, you’re pretty much invincible.”

“Noted,” you said with a laugh, peeling another carrot.

Lauren tilted her head, studying you curiously. “So, how did you and Glen meet, anyway?”

You hesitated, glancing toward the doorway like Glen might walk in and save you. “We met through mutual friends,” you said carefully. “It’s kind of a long story, but we just… clicked, I guess.”

Leslie smirked, clearly enjoying the topic. “Clicked, huh? Like, just friends clicked? Or ‘maybe there’s something more’ clicked?”

Heat rose to your cheeks, and you focused intently on the carrot in your hand. “Definitely just friends,” you said quickly, your voice a little too firm.

“Hmm,” Lauren said, exchanging a look with Leslie.

Before they could press further, Glen walked in, carrying a couple of folding chairs from the garage. He stopped short when he noticed the three of you huddled together.

“What’s going on in here?” he asked, his eyes narrowing suspiciously as he set the chairs against the wall.

“Nothing,” Lauren said, her voice entirely too innocent.

Leslie shrugged. “Just getting to know your friend.”

Glen sighed, giving his sisters a pointed look before turning to you. “Don’t let them gang up on you. They’re relentless once they get started.”

“I think I’m holding my own,” you said with a small smile, though you were grateful for his presence.

“Good,” Glen said, leaning against the counter and crossing his arms. “Because dinner’s almost ready, and if they scare you off before dessert, Mom’s going to kill them.”

The laughter that followed eased the lingering tension, and for the first time since you’d arrived, you felt like you were starting to find your footing amidst the whirlwind of the Powell family.

“Alright,” Cyndy said, clapping her hands together. “Let’s get everything to the table before it gets cold.”

The dining room table was a feast for the senses. Platters of turkey, stuffing, mashed potatoes, and roasted vegetables were arranged in the center, surrounded by bowls of cranberry sauce, rolls, and casseroles. Soft holiday music played in the background, and the warm glow of the chandelier added to the cozy atmosphere.

You found yourself seated between Glen and Lauren, while the twins took turns giggling and sneaking bites of their food despite their mom’s warnings to “at least wait for everyone to get their plate.”

The conversation started casually, with everyone complimenting Cyndy’s cooking and trading jokes about who had eaten the most last Christmas. It wasn’t long before the table was buzzing with overlapping chatter and bursts of laughter.

“So, what’s everyone’s plans for New Year’s?” Lauren asked as she helped her daughter cut her turkey into smaller pieces.

“Will and I are thinking of taking the kids to the park downtown for the fireworks,” Lauren said. “What about you, Glen?”

Glen shrugged, reaching for the mashed potatoes. “Haven’t decided yet. Depends on if this one’s dragging me somewhere” He nudged your shoulder with a playful grin.

You laughed, shaking your head. “I’m not dragging you to anything. You keep inviting yourself to my plans.”

“Semantics,” he quipped, earning a chuckle from Leslie.

Cyndy, ever the gracious host, leaned toward you with a warm smile. “So, what do you usually do for the holidays with your family?”

You hesitated for a moment, caught off guard by the question. “Well, when I can make it home, we usually have a quiet Christmas. Just my parents and my siblings. Lots of food, games, and, uh, my mom’s famous fudge.”

“That sounds lovely,” Cyndy said, her tone genuine. “You’ll have to share the fudge recipe sometime. Maybe we’ll add it to our dessert rotation next year.”

“I’d love to,” you said, feeling a little more at ease.

Throughout dinner, Glen made sure to keep you involved in the conversation, throwing in lighthearted jokes and even sharing an embarrassing story from high school that had everyone in stitches.

“Remember when Glen tried to sing karaoke at the Christmas talent show?” Leslie said, her face lighting up with glee.

“Oh, no,” Glen groaned, burying his face in his hands.

Lauren jumped in. “He thought he could hit the high notes in ‘All I Want for Christmas Is You.’ Spoiler alert: he couldn’t.”

The table erupted in laughter, and even you couldn’t hold back a giggle. Glen peeked at you through his fingers, feigning betrayal.

“Sorry,” you said between laughs. “But I need to hear this someday.”

“Not happening,” Glen said firmly, shaking his head.

By the time dessert was served—a towering plate of Cyndy’s homemade pecan pie—you were full, content, and starting to see why Glen loved spending the holidays here so much.

After dinner, the energy in the house began to settle. The twins had all but fallen asleep at the table, and Lauren and her husband said their goodbyes, bundling their sleepy children into coats before heading out for the night.

“I’ll see you both tomorrow,” Lauren said, pulling you into a warm hug. “You did great tonight. Don’t let these guys scare you off.” She winked, glancing briefly at Glen.

With the house quieter, you, Glen, and Leslie remained behind to spend a little more time with his parents. Cyndy brought out another round of cocoa, insisting on adding an extra dollop of whipped cream for everyone.

The fire in the living room had burned low, but Glen Sr. stoked it back to life, filling the room with a warm glow. You took a seat on the couch near the hearth, your fingers curling around the mug of cocoa as you soaked in the comforting crackle of the flames.

The warmth of the fire helped, but the Texas winter chill still lingered, and you found yourself shivering slightly as you sipped your drink.

Glen, sitting in an armchair nearby, noticed immediately. Without a word, he stood and grabbed a thick, soft blanket draped over the back of the couch. Crossing the room, he carefully draped it over your shoulders, his hands lingering for a moment to ensure it was snug around you.

“Better?” he asked softly, his voice low enough that only you could hear.

You nodded, your heart warming at the small, thoughtful gesture. “Much better. Thank you.”

Instead of returning to his chair, Glen sat down beside you on the couch, the corner of the blanket brushing against his arm as he stretched out. The closeness was both comforting and a little distracting, the ease of his presence pulling you further into the moment.

Across the room, Cyndy and Glen Sr. shared a knowing look, their quiet conversation halting as they observed the two of you. Leslie, seated in the armchair Glen had vacated, leaned over to whisper something to her mom, her expression amused.

Glen Sr. gave a subtle shake of his head, murmuring something you couldn’t quite catch, though his tone held a hint of playful exasperation.

The whispers and exchanged glances didn’t go unnoticed by Glen, who shot his sister a pointed look. “You guys good over there?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Totally,” Leslie replied, a little too quickly, her smile innocent in a way that wasn’t fooling anyone. “Just enjoying the show.”

You glanced between them, confused. “What show?”

“Nothing!” Cyndy said quickly, her tone light but clearly trying to steer the conversation away. “It’s just nice to see Glen bringing a friend home for the holidays.”

You felt your cheeks warm under her gaze, and Glen let out a small sigh, clearly used to his family’s antics.

“Alright, that’s enough,” he said, though his tone was more amused than annoyed.

Leslie smirked but didn’t push further, and Cyndy changed the subject to talk about the Powell family’s Christmas morning traditions.

The room was dimly lit, the fire crackling softly in the background. The evening had settle dinto a quiet calm, with Glen sitting on the couch, his arm stretched across the backrest. Despite your best efforts to stay engaged in the chatter between Glen and his family, your eyelids grew heavier with each passing moment.

Cyndy and Leslie paused mid conversation when they noticed you were asleep. Your breathing was slow and even, your head nestled against Glen like it was the most natural thing in the world. Cyndy and Leslie exchanged a look, both already grinning.

“She’s so sweet,” Cyndy whispered, her voice barely above the crackling of the fire.

“And you’re adorable together,” Leslie added, leaning closer to her mom as if she were sharing a juicy secret.

Glen’s eyes flicked toward them, his lips tugging into a faint, knowing smirk. “We’re just friends,” he said, keeping his voice low to avoid disturbing you.

Leslie arched a brow. “Sure, you are,” she teased, crossing her arms. “Because friends totally look at each other like that.”

“What are you even talking about?” Glen asked, rolling his eyes, though his free hand instinctively adjusted the blanket draped over you, tucking it more securely around your shoulders. You stirred slightly, leaning into him more, and his arm moved without hesitation, wrapping lightly around you to keep you comfortable.

“Like that,” Leslie said pointedly, gesturing at him with a playful smirk.

Cyndy’s eyes were full of warmth as she added, “Leslie’s right, honey. It’s the way you look at her. Like she’s the only person in the room.”

Glen sighed, running a hand through your hair but careful not to jostle you. “I’ve thought about it,” he admitted softly, his gaze dropping to you as you slept peacefully against him. “Probably more than I should have.”

Leslie’s teasing grin shifted into genuine curiosity. “So what’s stopping you?”

“It’s not the right time,” Glen said, his voice low but thoughtful. “My schedule’s insane. The next six to eight months are booked solid with filming, press tours… I’d barely be around. Starting something with her when I know I don’t have the time to make it work or for it to be healthy? It doesn’t feel fair to her. Or to me.”

Cyndy tilted her head, her brows furrowed slightly. “But you’ve managed to keep your friendship going despite all that. You both make time for each other. If you were dating, it wouldn’t be that much different, would it?”

Leslie chimed in, “Exactly. You’ve already proven that you make her a priority, even with everything you’ve got going on. If you really like her—and it’s obvious you do—why not take the chance?”

Glen glanced down at you again, the flickering firelight casting a warm glow across your peaceful face. His arm tightened just slightly around you, as if the thought of letting you go, even metaphorically, was too hard to bear.

He didn’t respond right away, the weight of his family’s words settling in as he watched you. Maybe they had a point. But taking that leap still felt like a mountain he wasn’t sure he could climb—at least not yet.

“I’ll think about it,” he said finally, his voice soft and a little distant.

Leslie opened her mouth, ready to press him further, but Cyndy gave her a gentle nudge and a pointed look. “Let it go, Leslie,” she said quietly. “He’ll figure it out when he’s ready.”

As they turned to leave the room, Cyndy glanced back at Glen one more time, her expression full of motherly understanding. Glen caught her look, gave her a small, grateful nod, and then shifted slightly to settle more comfortably against the couch, his arm still securely around you.

For now, he decided, this moment was enough.

The warmth of the fire flickered softly, casting golden light across the room. Between the gentle crackle of the logs and the soothing rhythm of your breathing, Glen found himself starting to relax in a way he hadn’t in weeks. Your head rested against his shoulder, and the weight of it, combined with the soft rise and fall of your chest, brought an unexpected sense of peace.

Glen shifted slightly, careful not to disturb you, but the movement only made you nestle closer, your arm brushing against his. He glanced down at you, a small smile tugging at his lips. The firelight danced in his eyes as his mind wandered, replaying his mom and Leslie’s words.

She’s sweet.

You’re adorable together.

What’s stopping you?

His gaze lingered on you, and a soft sigh escaped him. He knew what they meant. Knew how easy it would be to let himself fall. Maybe he already had.

The fire crackled again, pulling him from his thoughts. The room was growing quieter, the warmth enveloping him like a cocoon. His head tilted back slightly, his eyes growing heavier with each passing moment. Despite his best efforts to stay awake, the comfort of the moment proved too much.

It wasn’t long before Glen’s breathing matched yours, slow and steady, his chin dipping slightly toward his chest as sleep overtook him. The two of you sat there, heads close, his arm still loosely draped around you while the blanket kept you both warm.

Some time later, Cyndy padded softly into the living room, a smile spreading across her face as she took in the scene. You were still tucked against Glen, your hand now resting lightly against his chest. Glen’s head leaned toward yours, his features relaxed in a way only sleep could bring.

Cyndy stood there for a moment, her heart warming at the sight. She grabbed another blanket from the linen closet and approached quietly, careful not to wake either of you. With practiced ease, she draped it gently over both of you, tucking it around your shoulders before stepping back.

She turned to the fireplace, stoking the remaining embers and making sure it was safely extinguished. The room dimmed as she turned off the lights, leaving only the soft glow of the moon filtering through the curtains.

Before heading to bed, she paused once more, her gaze softening as she looked back at the two of you. A small, knowing smile played on her lips as she shook her head lightly, then whispered to herself, “Just friends, huh?”

With that, she turned and left the room, leaving you and Glen to rest peacefully in the quiet glow of the night.

*****

The soft light of morning filtered through the curtains, casting a faint glow across the living room. Glen stirred, his body shifting slightly against the couch cushion as he blinked groggily, trying to orient himself. His eyes felt heavy, and for a moment, he couldn’t figure out why he felt so warm.

He shifted again, feeling something—or rather, someone—pressed against him. He froze, his heart skipping a beat as he realized he wasn’t alone.

Looking down, he saw you curled into his side, your front pressed snugly against his chest, your legs tangled with his. One blanket was wrapped around you, tucked in as though you’d done it instinctively, and another—one he didn’t even remember grabbing—covered both of you. His arm was draped protectively around you, his hand resting lightly against your back.

Your breath was warm against his neck, soft and even, and he could feel the steady rhythm of your heartbeat where your chest touched his. The realization sent a jolt of awareness through him. How had this happened? The last thing he remembered was sitting upright, with you asleep on his shoulder.

He let his head fall back onto the couch for a moment, exhaling slowly as he tried to make sense of it. Well, this is... comfortable, he thought wryly, though he couldn’t deny the quiet peace that came with waking up next to you.

As his brain started to wake up, he rubbed at his eyes, his other arm instinctively tightening around you as you shifted slightly in your sleep, murmuring something he couldn’t quite make out.

The sound of soft footsteps made him glance toward the archway leading to the kitchen. His parents stood there, his mom holding a coffee mug while his dad held the morning paper.

Cyndy stopped mid-step when she saw the two of you, her lips curling into a knowing smile she didn’t even try to hide. Glen groaned quietly, his free hand coming up to rub at the back of his neck as he looked up at them.

His dad raised an eyebrow, folding his arms across his chest as a smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth. “Well, good morning,” his dad said, his tone amused. “Sleep well, son?”

Cyndy swatted his dad lightly on the arm but didn’t say anything, her smile widening as she looked between Glen and you.

Glen cleared his throat, his voice low and rough from sleep. “Morning,” he muttered, trying not to move too much and wake you.

Cyndy stepped closer, lowering her voice. “You looked so peaceful last night. I didn’t have the heart to wake you,” she said, her gaze warm and teasing.

Glen gave her a look, half-exasperated and half-grateful. “Thanks, Mom,” he murmured dryly, though there was no heat in his words.

“You should probably wake her before the others come down,” his dad added with a chuckle, nodding toward the stairs. “Don’t want to give Leslie too much ammunition.”

Glen sighed, his eyes flicking back to you. You were still sound asleep, your face relaxed and peaceful against him. His dad wasn’t wrong—Leslie would have a field day if she saw this.

“Yeah, I’ll handle it,” he said quietly, shifting slightly to try and rouse you without startling you.

Cyndy leaned closer to her husband as they turned to head back to the kitchen, her voice just loud enough for Glen to catch. “I think they’re adorable,” she whispered.

Glen groaned again, though he couldn’t quite hide the small smile tugging at his lips as he looked down at you, still nestled against him.

Glen sighed softly and glanced down at you, his heart doing an odd little flip at the sight of you so peaceful against him. For a moment, he hesitated, not wanting to disturb you. You looked so content, your face relaxed and framed by a strand of hair that had fallen loose.

But his dad was right—he needed to wake you before anyone else saw this and started making jokes he’d never live down.

“Hey,” he murmured, his voice low and gentle. He shifted slightly, his hand moving to lightly brush against your shoulder. “Time to wake up.”

You stirred faintly but didn’t open your eyes, your brows furrowing as you shifted closer, burying your face into the crook of his neck. The movement sent a wave of warmth rushing through him, and for a split second, he froze, unsure how to handle the sudden closeness.

“Come on,” he tried again, his voice soft and laced with a hint of amusement now. “You’re going to miss breakfast.”

This time, you let out a soft hum of protest, your voice barely audible as you mumbled, “Five more minutes...”

Glen couldn’t help but chuckle, the sound rumbling through his chest. “Come on, you need to wake up before the others come downstairs.”

Your eyes fluttered open at the sound of his voice, and it took you a moment to register where you were. When you finally looked up at him, still half-asleep, your cheeks flushed as the realization hit.

“Oh,” you said softly, your voice hoarse with sleep. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to...”

“Don’t worry about it,” Glen cut in quickly, his tone reassuring.

Your eyes dropped to where his arm was still draped around you, and you slowly began to sit up, the blanket falling away as you shifted. Glen helped, his hand steadying you as you moved, though he couldn’t quite hide the slight reluctance he felt at the loss of warmth.

“I, uh... hope I wasn’t too heavy,” you said, brushing a hand through your hair as you tried to smooth it down.

Glen smirked, leaning back against the couch. “You’re fine. But you do steal blankets, apparently,” he teased, motioning to the second blanket draped over him.

You blinked, confused, then looked down at the blanket and frowned. “Wait, where did that even come from?”

“Mom,” he said simply, the corners of his mouth tugging upward. “She came in last night and covered us up. I think she wanted to make sure we didn’t freeze to death.”

Your cheeks reddened further, and you groaned softly, hiding your face in your hands. “Oh, great. So your mom saw us like that?”

“Don’t worry,” he said, reaching out to tug your hands away from your face, his smile softening. “She thought it was cute. So did Dad, for the record.”

“Wonderful,” you muttered, though there was a hint of a smile tugging at your lips now.

Glen watched you for a moment before standing and stretching, his hand running through his hair as he glanced toward the kitchen. “Come on,” he said, offering you a hand. “Let’s get some coffee before Leslie sees us and decides to turn this into a running joke for the next decade.”

You laughed softly, taking his hand as he pulled you to your feet. His touch lingered for just a second longer than necessary before he let go, his gaze flicking to yours briefly before he led the way toward the kitchen.

As you and Glen walked into the kitchen, the rich scent of freshly brewed coffee hit you, immediately comforting in the way that only mornings at someone else's home could be. His parents were already seated at the island, sipping their own coffee, looking up with warm smiles as you entered.

“Good morning, you two,” his dad, Glen Sr., greeted with a grin, his voice low and warm.

“Morning,” you replied softly, moving to grab a mug from the cabinet. Glen’s mom, Cyndy, shot you a look, an almost mischievous twinkle in her eyes.

“Did you sleep well?” she asked, her voice friendly, yet filled with a knowing edge.

You nodded, your face flushing again as you took a seat next to Glen. “Yeah, I did. Thanks for the extra blanket.”

“Of course,” she said with a smile. “I couldn’t have you freezing to death in here.” She paused, her eyes flicking between you and Glen for a moment. “Though, I must say, it was nice to see you both so cozy last night.”

Glen let out an exaggerated groan, shaking his head. “Mom, please.”

You chuckled softly, looking over at him, your hand wrapped around your mug of coffee. “It’s fine,” you said, offering a reassuring smile. “No harm done.”

His dad chuckled, clearly enjoying the moment. “You’re lucky. I don’t see Glen like that much.”

“I bet,” you responded, teasing, taking a sip of your coffee. “I wouldn’t have guessed he’s such a softy.”

“Oh, you have no idea,” Cyndy said with a wink, earning a playful nudge from her husband.

Glen rolled his eyes, then leaned back against the counter, his eyes flicking to you. “So, I was thinking we should head back to my place in a bit,” he said, casually stirring his coffee. “We’ll change clothes, then I’ll bring you back here. Sound good?”

You nodded, sipping your coffee again, grateful for the warmth in your hands. “That sounds perfect.”

Leslie walked in at that moment, still wearing her pajamas, her eyes narrowing in on you and Glen still in the clothes you had on yesterday. “Did you guys sleep here last night?”

Glen groaned again, clearly not ready for another round of teasing. “Leslie, please, not now.”

But Leslie was already grinning, turning to their parents. “They fell asleep and slept on the couch, didn’t they?”

“Mind your own business,” Glen said, his voice half-amused, half-annoyed, as he stood up from the counter. He shot a glance at you, his expression softening. “Alright, let’s go grab some things from my place.

As you and Glen walked toward the door, you could hear Leslie's voice rise from the kitchen, her tone laced with playful teasing.

"I mean, it’s so obvious," she said, her voice carrying easily to where you both were standing.

"I heard that, Leslie!" he called out, his voice a mix of annoyance and amusement. "Knock it off."

Leslie’s laugh echoed from the kitchen, followed by a muffled comment you couldn’t quite make out, though you were sure it was another jab at him.

Glen rolled his eyes and shook his head, but there was a softness to his expression when he looked at you. "Sorry about that," he said, his tone light. "She’s relentless."

You couldn’t help but smile, feeling a warmth in your chest at how natural this all felt. "It’s fine," you said, chuckling.

He held the door open for you, letting you step out first, his hand brushing against yours as you passed. The drive back to his place was quiet at first, the hum of the engine and the soft sounds of music on the radio filling the space between you. You found yourself glancing out the window, watching the suburbs of Austin pass by as the sun began to rise higher, casting a golden glow over everything.

Glen’s hand rested casually on the steering wheel, his fingers tapping lightly in rhythm with the beat of the song. Every now and then, he’d sneak a glance at you, a slight smile curling on his lips as if something was playing in his mind. You caught him once or twice, but neither of you said much, content to simply exist in the quiet comfort of each other’s company.

Finally, as you turned onto the street leading to his place, Glen broke the silence, his voice low but warm.

“So, what do you think?” he asked, glancing over at you, his eyes twinkling with curiosity. “You’re not regretting agreeing to spend the holidays with my family, are you?”

You smiled, shaking your head. “Not at all. It’s been… nice. Really nice, actually.”

He gave a small, satisfied nod, then pulled into the driveway of his house. As he parked, you both sat there for a moment, the truck gently rocking as the engine turned off.

As you both entered the house, the familiar warmth wrapped around you, making you feel at ease. Glen led the way toward the stairs, his movements easy, casual—like nothing had changed. But you couldn't ignore the shift, the quiet tension that seemed to have settled between you after spending the night curled up together. It wasn’t awkward, not exactly, but it was different. You both seemed a little more aware of each other than before.

"Bathroom's upstairs," Glen said, breaking the silence as he gestured to the staircase. "You can use the guest bathroom, and I'll take the one in my room."

You nodded, following him up the stairs. The house was quiet now, the early morning stillness hanging in the air. When you reached the top, you stopped briefly in front of the guest room. Glen was a few steps ahead of you, but you caught the way his gaze flickered to you for just a moment. His eyes lingered, and you felt the weight of it—the subtle shift you’d both sensed. He quickly looked away, his lips curling into a casual smile, but it wasn’t the same as before. There was something unspoken now, something you couldn’t quite name.

"Alright," Glen said, his voice a little softer than usual. "I’ll meet you downstairs in a bit. Take your time."

You hesitated for a second, feeling the strange pull between you, but nodded and stepped into the guest room. The door clicked shut behind you, and for a moment, you just stood there, the silence pressing in. It wasn’t uncomfortable—just different. You couldn’t help but wonder if he felt it too, that quiet shift in the air, the one that had somehow made the space between you seem just a little smaller.

You shook your head, trying to push away the sudden thoughts swirling in your mind. This was still Glen—your friend. Nothing had changed, right?

But as you started to get ready for your shower, you couldn’t shake the feeling that something had.

The hot water helped clear your head, and you focused on the simple task of washing off the sleep from your body. The shower was quick, just a few minutes of cleansing and letting the steam fill the space, but you didn’t want to take too long. Glen was probably already waiting, and you didn’t want to leave him hanging. You turned off the water, stepping out and grabbing the towel from the hook.

As you dried off, you realized your mistake. Your clothes were still in the guest room, neatly folded on the bed. You hadn’t thought that far ahead, assuming you’d just grab them when you finished. You sighed quietly to yourself, wrapping the towel securely around you, careful not to let it slip.

You checked yourself in the mirror for a moment, making sure everything was in place. Satisfied, you opened the bathroom door and stepped out into the hallway, glancing toward the guest room. It felt strange walking across the house like this—towel-clad, with nothing but the soft padding of your bare feet on the floor to accompany you.

You moved as quickly as you could, trying not to draw attention to yourself, but the slight breeze of the air made you acutely aware of just how vulnerable you felt in the moment. When you reached the guest room, you took a quick glance down the hallway, just in case, before slipping inside and closing the door behind you.

You quickly pulled on the clothes you had set out, opting for something comfortable but still presentable. After slipping on a soft sweater and a pair of jeans, you grabbed the brush and ran it through your damp hair. You added a little product, hoping it would hold up for the day, but you didn’t want to stress too much about it. After all, you were just heading downstairs with Glen—nothing too formal.

You took a deep breath and made your way toward the door, hoping the day would continue as smoothly as possible. But as you stepped out of the guest room, you nearly collided with Glen. He was just emerging from his room, his shirt still in his hand, his chest and abs exposed in the moment before he pulled it on. His muscles were defined, his skin still warm from the shower, and you found your gaze involuntarily drifting down for just a moment.

You quickly snapped your eyes away, trying to ignore the rush of heat that flushed your face. You gave a nervous smile, your heart thudding in your chest, and practically rushed past him. Your steps were quick, almost too quick as you hurried down the stairs, praying to some higher power that Glen hadn’t noticed your lingering glance.

The sound of his footsteps following behind you reassured you that he wasn’t focusing on the moment. You let out a quiet breath, hoping you could push the moment from your mind and keep everything normal.

"So, what do you think? Want to hang out here for a bit? Enjoy the quiet before we head back to the chaos?" he asked, his voice casual, but there was an unspoken invitation in his words.

You glanced toward the living room. The cozy, inviting space was practically calling out to you. The thought of staying here, just the two of you, no teasing, no distractions. The idea of getting alone time with Glen was tempting.

But as you stood there, a tug of guilt gnawed at you. You could already picture Glen, laughing and joking with his family, enjoying moments that he didn’t get to have often due to his hectic schedule. He didn’t get much time with them, and you knew that all too well. The last thing you wanted to do was take him away from that, especially when you knew how much he cherished it.

You had more time with him than they did. You saw him regularly, had long conversations over coffee, shared lazy afternoons together on his days off. They were lucky to have him home, and you didn’t want to be the reason he missed out on these rare moments.

The thought of staying here, just the two of you, was appealing, yes—but not at the expense of his family. You didn’t want to be selfish. They didn’t have the luxury of seeing him every day, and you knew that if you stayed, it would be taking away from that time they had.

Finally, you shook your head slightly, offering him a small, apologetic smile. "I think I’d rather head back over," you said, trying to push aside the selfish urge to keep him all to yourself. "You don’t get to see them much, and I don’t want to take that away from you." With a final glance at the quiet room around you, you gave Glen a small smile. "Shall we?" you asked, your voice light, trying to push the lingering tension aside.

He nodded, his smile softening, understanding exactly what you meant. "Yeah, let’s go."

As you followed him to the door, the weight of the quiet moments you shared earlier in the day seemed to hang in the air, but there was something comforting in it. A subtle shift, one you couldn’t quite put your finger on but couldn’t ignore either.

The cool air greeted you as you stepped outside, and the drive back to his parents' house was peaceful, the car filled only with the sound of the engine and the faint rustling of the wind. You both had your own thoughts, but the comfortable silence made it feel like there was no need to fill the space.

When you pulled up to the house again, the familiar warmth of the lights shining from the windows seemed inviting. Glen turned to you before you opened the door, his gaze lingering a little longer than usual. "Thanks for letting me have so much time with them" he said quietly, his voice sincere. "I appreciate you understanding."

You smiled at him, a quiet understanding between you that didn’t need words. "Of course, I know how important they are to you," you replied, giving him a look that was just as much reassurance as it was a soft acknowledgment of the unspoken bond you shared. And with that, the two of you stepped out of the car, ready to head back inside, where the sounds of family laughter awaited.

* * * * *

The warm scent of cookies filled the kitchen as you worked alongside Cyndy, Lauren, and Leslie, mixing dough and rolling it into perfect little balls. The rhythm of your hands, the soft scrape of the spatula against the bowl, was comforting. The kitchen was a cozy flurry of flour, sugar, and laughter.

As you moved the dough onto the baking sheets, the sounds of laughter echoed from the living room. Glen’s voice was unmistakable, full of warmth and joy, accompanied by the high-pitched giggles of the twins. You couldn’t help but smile, a soft chuckle escaping you as you glanced up.

“Seems like he’s a fun uncle,” you commented, rolling the dough into another ball.

Cyndy and Leslie shared a knowing look before Leslie grinned. "Oh, he’s the favorite uncle, hands down," she said, shaking her head with a teasing smile. “I mean, he’s practically a big kid himself when they’re around.”

You laughed, imagining Glen’s easygoing nature blending perfectly with the chaos and energy of his niece and nephew. It was clear that they adored him.

Lauren continued, her tone light and affectionate. “I think the twins might actually think of him as their second dad sometimes. He spoils them rotten."

After a few moments, Glen appeared in the doorway, slightly out of breath but grinning from ear to ear, his hair a bit messy from wrestling with the twins. His cheeks were flushed from the fun, but as soon as his eyes found the cooling rack of freshly baked cookies, he couldn’t resist. He made his way toward it, trying to sneak a cookie without anyone noticing.

You raised an eyebrow, a playful smile tugging at your lips as you saw his move. You grabbed the spatula from the counter and, with a quick swipe, playfully swatted at him.

“Don’t even think about it,” you teased, but before you could even get close, Glen’s hand shot out to grab your wrist, stopping the spatula mid-air.

He chuckled, his grip gentle but firm, his fingers brushing against your skin in the briefest of moments. His gaze locked with yours, and for a second, the playful banter seemed to fade as the space between you both felt charged with something a little different.

“Really?” Glen raised an eyebrow, his voice soft with amusement.

You laughed, trying to pull your wrist free, but his hand stayed in place, still holding you with a steady but warm grip. “They aren’t ready yet,” you said, laughing as you tried to wiggle out of his grasp.

The laughter from Cyndy and Leslie behind you broke the moment, and you both turned, noticing their amused expressions.

“Are we interrupting something?” Cyndy asked with a teasing smile.

Leslie, barely containing a grin, raised an eyebrow. “You two are really cute together, you know that?”

You shot her a playful glare, but Glen gave a sheepish chuckle, releasing your wrist and straightening up. “We're just friends,” he said with a lighthearted shrug, though the hint of something unspoken lingered in his tone. “But I am taking one of these cookies.”

Before you could respond, Glen grabbed a cookie from the cooling rack with a victorious grin. You rolled your eyes in mock exasperation as he happily bit into the cookie, clearly pleased with himself.

“You’re lucky I like you,” you said, shaking your head with a smile.

Cyndy and Leslie exchanged a knowing glance, but neither said anything else, letting the moment hang in the air between you two, filled with warmth and an undeniable connection.

Lauren gave Glen a mischievous grin and, without warning, tossed a small pinch of flour in his direction. The flour puffed up in the air, and Glen let out a surprised laugh, his hands immediately going to his hair and face to brush it away.

“Hey!” Glen laughed, glancing around at the chaos unfolding. “You’re going down for that!”

In an instant, the flour fight was on. Leslie, quick on the draw, took the opportunity to sprinkle flour over Glen’s shoulder. He retaliated with a handful of flour that he flung in her direction, his aim slightly off, hitting the edge of the counter instead. You couldn't help but laugh, your hands covered in flour as you tried to avoid getting caught in the crossfire.

Glen shot you a playful look, and before you could duck out of his reach, he tossed a small pinch of flour at you. It landed right on your nose, and you gasped in mock horror.

“Oh, it's on now,” you said, wiping at your nose. “You’re going to pay for that one.”

The kitchen erupted in more laughter as flour and frosting flew between the family members, and before long, the "fight" ended just as quickly as it started, with everyone covered in flour and sugar but still grinning from ear to ear.

You went to wipe the frosting off your cheek, but as your finger brushed over it, you only seemed to smear it further. Glen, watching you with a teasing smile, leaned in slightly, his gaze softening as he shook his head. “You’re just making it worse.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Oh, really? Got a better idea?”

He didn’t say anything at first, just reached for the kitchen towel. His fingers brushed against your chin as he gently took your face in his hands, tilting your head slightly to get a better angle. His thumb carefully wiped away the frosting from your cheek, and you held your breath, caught in the moment, his touch gentle and thoughtful.

“There,” Glen said softly, his eyes still focused on your face. “All better.”

You met his gaze for a moment, feeling something stir inside you. His hand lingered just a little longer than necessary before he dropped it to his side, giving you a sheepish smile.

Glen’s mom, Cyndy, appeared in the doorway, holding a broom in one hand and a Swiffer in the other. She surveyed the flour-coated kitchen with an amused smile, shaking her head at the mess.

“Start cleaning this up, Glen,” she said with a grin, holding out the broom to him.

Glen, still wiping frosting from his hands, gave her a mock salute. “Yes ma’am,” he replied, his voice teasing as he took the broom from her with a sigh.

Cyndy smiled and turned back to the counter, the familiar, easy banter filling the air. “I swear, uou start a food fight every time we bake cookies around here.”

“Hey, I didn’t start it. I was just defending myself,” Glen shot back, sweeping a pile of flour into the dustpan with care.

You glanced over at Glen, a grin tugging at your lips. It was hard not to notice how much he resembled his mom in that moment—easygoing, playful, and always the one tasked with cleaning up after the fun.

“Don’t look so smug, you’ve got your own work to do,” he teased, gesturing at the counter where the remaining cookie dough sat ready to be rolled.

You just laughed and walked over to help Cyndy and Leslie, trying to distract yourself from the small, fleeting moment you’d just shared with Glen.

The kitchen felt warm with laughter and good company as you all continued to work together, and for a moment, everything seemed perfectly in place. Glen was hard at work, and you were right where you wanted to be—with the people who mattered most to him, helping make new memories.

After the cookies were finished and the kitchen was tidied up, the festive energy of the day shifted to the living room, where the Christmas tree stood, waiting to be transformed. Glen’s mom, Cyndy, had made it clear—no tree decorating until everyone, including Glen was home. So, even though Christmas Eve had arrived, the tree still sat untouched, its branches bare, twinkling lights tangled in a mess of cords.

You and Glen made your way to the storage tote, ready to tackle the daunting task of untangling the lights. Glen grinned as he opened the lid, revealing the well-loved decorations inside. "Every year, this takes longer than it should," he muttered, already pulling out a jumble of strings.

"At least you’re here to help now," you teased, grabbing a section of lights and trying to work through the knots. "I’m sure your family appreciates that."

Glen shot you a playful look as he started to untangle his own section. "Yeah, yeah, they know I’m the official light untangler. No one else can be trusted with this responsibility."

You both worked together, your laughter and conversation mixing with the sounds of his sisters in the living room. Cyndy and Leslie were busy sorting through the assortment of ornaments, laying them out in neat piles to be hung on the tree. The occasional clink of glass and soft chatter filled the space as they talked about the best places to hang each ornament.

The mood was lighthearted, and there was a cozy comfort in the room as the tree slowly started to take shape. You glanced over at Glen, catching the familiar glint of mischief in his eyes as he struggled with a particularly stubborn knot.

"Need help there?" you asked with a smirk, leaning closer.

"Nope, I’ve got it," he replied, his voice teasing but also faintly apologetic. "I’m a professional at this by now."

As he worked on the tangled mess, you couldn’t help but notice how the sight of him—focused and determined, yet still making light of the situation—made your heart flutter in a way that was different from before. You shook it off quickly, telling yourself it was just the holiday spirit getting to you.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity of struggling with knots and wires, the lights were untangled. You plugged them in to make sure they worked, and sure enough, the tree lit up with a soft glow, casting a warm, comforting light on the room.

Cyndy clapped her hands together with excitement. "Alright, now the fun part! Everyone grab an ornament, let’s make this tree sparkle."

Glen’s sisters eagerly began pulling their favorite ornaments from the piles, each one carefully examined before being placed on the branches. Glen handed you an ornament with a small grin. "I think this one’s for you," he said, handing you a glass star ornament that had a delicate silver shimmer.

As the tree filled with decorations, you couldn’t help but feel the warmth of the moment. It was peaceful and festive, and even with the occasional playful jab from one of Glen’s sisters, you couldn’t deny that it felt right.

Glen stepped back for a moment, surveying the tree as the last few ornaments were added. He gave you a soft smile, and you both exchanged a quiet moment before returning to finish the final touches.

As the final ornaments were being placed, the room seemed to hum with festive energy. The tree was almost done, with the soft glow of the lights reflecting off the glass baubles and tinsel. You stepped back to admire the view when Cyndy, holding the delicate star topper, made her way toward you.

"Here," she said with a warm smile, holding it out to you. "I think you should be the one to put the star on top. After all, you're the special guest this year."

You immediately felt a slight panic. "Oh, no, no, someone in the family should do it," you said, shaking your head, trying to pass the ornament back to her. "This is your tradition."

But Cyndy, always insistent, simply raised an eyebrow and gave you a playful smile. "You’re part of the family now," she said, her tone leaving no room for argument. 

Before you could protest any further, Cyndy shot a glance over at Glen, who was leaning casually against the wall, watching with a smile. "Glen, help her up."

Glen’s eyes twinkled mischievously as he moved toward you. "You heard her," he teased, holding out a hand. "Up you go."

You gave him an incredulous look, but there was no backing out now. Glen bent down slightly, motioning for you to climb onto his shoulders. With a deep breath, you carefully moved onto his broad shoulders. Glen straightened up, your legs now on either side of his neck, and you were perched on his shoulders, a little wobbly at first, but he steadied you easily.

"Alright, ready?" he asked, his voice close to your ear, making you feel a little more unsteady than you had been just moments ago.

You nodded, and Glen slowly straightened his back, lifting you higher so you could reach the top of the tree.

With his support, you leaned over carefully, stretching just enough to place the star on top of the tree. You could feel his arms beneath your legs, his grip steady as he held you in place. As you aligned the cord with the top strand of lights, the star clicked into place, and the top of the tree lit up with a soft, radiant glow.

The room seemed to pause for a moment, everyone looking up at the tree as the star twinkled brightly, casting a warm glow over the entire room. You couldn’t help but smile, feeling a sense of pride and contentment as you admired the result.

"Perfect," Cyndy said, her voice filled with approval. "It’s beautiful."

As Glen slowly lowered you back to the ground, his hands slid to your waist, steadying you as you regained your footing. You both stood there for a moment, a shared silence settling over you as you looked up at the tree. The lights glowed softly, casting a gentle warmth over the room, and the star at the top shone brilliantly.

The atmosphere was calm, peaceful. You couldn’t help but feel a small flutter in your chest as you stood close to Glen, the warmth of his hands still lingering on your hips. It wasn’t anything overt, just a quiet moment where the connection between the two of you felt more real than ever. The world around you seemed to fade away for a second, leaving only the soft hum of the Christmas tree lights and the quiet of the room.

You both stood there for what felt like an eternity, neither of you saying a word. The only sounds were the soft crackle of the fire in the background and the distant laughter from the others. And then, without warning, Glen seemed to notice the looks from the corner of his eye. Leslie and Lauren were standing at the other side of the room, their eyes fixed on the two of you, their smiles too knowing for Glen’s liking.

Caught in the moment, Glen quickly pulled his hands from your sides, his fingers brushing against your skin just enough to send a small shiver down your spine. He cleared his throat and turned toward the others, trying to act nonchalant.

“Alright, alright,” he said, chuckling awkwardly.

Leslie grinned and gave him a playful wink, but it was Lauren’s knowing smile that lingered in your mind. You and Glen shared a fleeting glance before you both turned to rejoin the others, the moment still hanging between you two.

* * * * *

Later that evening, after the lively chaos of dinner had settled, you found yourself stepping out onto the deck of Glen’s house. The crisp air of the winter evening wrapped around you as you leaned against the railing, a cup of warm tea cradled in your hands. The steam curled up into the cool night, and the soft hum of the distant streetlights was the only sound you could hear. It was a peaceful contrast to the laughter and chatter that had filled the house earlier, and you welcomed the solitude.

As you sipped from your cup, your thoughts drifted back to the night’s events. Glen’s family had been warm and welcoming, and though you could see how much they all cared for him, you couldn’t help but notice the way Cyndy had spoken earlier. It lingered in your mind, that softness in her eyes when she spoke of how much happier Glen seemed since you arrived. It made your chest feel tight, both in a comforting and nerve-wracking way.

The door behind you creaked open, and you turned just as Glen stepped onto the deck. He moved toward you with that familiar easy stride of his, his hands shoved deep into the pockets of his jacket. For a moment, he stood beside you, silent, just taking in the night air with you. The way the soft glow of the house lights reflected off his features made him seem almost impossibly handsome in the moment.

“You okay?” he asked, his voice low and gentle, as if he knew that his family’s energy could be overwhelming at times. “I know they can be a lot.”

You offered him a soft smile and took another sip of tea, the warmth of the cup soothing against your palms. “I’m enjoying myself, really,” you assured him. “Your family’s great. It’s just... nice to have a little peace and quiet for a moment after everything today, you know?”

Glen gave a small, understanding nod, his gaze lingering on you for a moment longer than usual. The comfortable silence stretched between you both, but then, as if on cue, a gust of cool air swept across the deck. You couldn’t help but shiver slightly, the chill catching you off guard.

Before you could react, you felt a warmth at your shoulders. Glen’s arm wrapped around you instinctively, pulling you closer to him, the solid feel of his presence comforting against the cool night. His touch, the gentle weight of his arm around you, made your heart race for reasons you couldn’t quite explain. It felt natural, like he was just trying to make sure you were okay—but there was something else there, something unspoken that hummed beneath the surface.

For a brief moment, you thought he might lean in, maybe say something that would break the quiet tension between you. But he didn’t. He just stood there, close enough that you could feel the heat radiating from him, but not close enough to cross that invisible line.

The silence stretched on, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. It was the kind of silence where two people simply existed in each other’s presence, the world around them fading away. Still, something about the stillness between you and Glen made you aware of the subtle shift in the air. You glanced up at him, catching the thoughtful, almost distant expression on his face.

“You okay?” you asked, the question slipping out before you could stop it. There was something in his demeanor that made you wonder if something was on his mind, maybe something he wasn’t sharing. He seemed more serious now, the playfulness from earlier replaced by a quiet vulnerability you couldn’t quite place.

Glen turned his head to look at you, blinking as if he had been lost in thought, and then he let out a low chuckle, brushing it off. “You don’t want to know,” he said, his voice light but guarded, as if the answer to your question was something he wasn’t sure he wanted to share.

You raised an eyebrow, a playful grin curling on your lips. “Try me.”

His gaze flickered to yours, and for a second, you could see the flicker of hesitation in his eyes. It was a small thing, but it was there—a brief moment of vulnerability that he quickly masked with a deep breath. He didn’t say anything at first, just looking out at the dark sky, the stars twinkling above.

“I’m just…” He trailed off, then ran a hand through his hair, clearly unsure of how to continue. “I don’t know. Just... thinking about how much things have changed recently.” Glen sighed again, letting out a breath like he was releasing something heavy. “I guess... it’s just been a lot. Work, family... and now you. It’s all good stuff, but it’s a lot to juggle sometimes, you know?” He paused, his words becoming slower as if he were processing something in real-time. “I don’t want to mess things up. With my family, with you...”

The air between you and Glen felt thick with unspoken things, so you did the only thing that felt natural. You shifted slightly, closing the space between you until you were pressed against his chest. Instantly, his arms wrapped around your shoulders, pulling you in, and you rested your head just beneath his chin, feeling the steady rhythm of his breath against you.

For a brief, fleeting moment, you thought you might’ve felt something—something soft and sweet, maybe even a kiss. But when you lifted your head to look up at him, you realized it wasn’t that at all. He’d just rested his chin on the top of your head, his touch warm and gentle, like a quiet reassurance that you didn’t know you needed until now.

You pulled back a fraction, just enough to tilt your head and meet his eyes. Your fingers brushed against his chest lightly as you took a breath, wanting to say something—anything—that would keep this moment from slipping away.

“You couldn’t possibly mess things up with me,” you assured him, your voice steady but filled with a quiet confidence. You didn’t know why you said it, but you meant it. The last thing you wanted was for Glen to feel like he was doing anything wrong by simply being himself.

Glen laughed softly, though it was a little unsure. “Don’t be so sure about that,” he teased, his voice still carrying that hint of vulnerability beneath the humor. He didn’t let go of you, though—his hands resting lightly on your shoulders, almost like he was grounding himself to you in this moment.

You couldn't help but smile at the mix of playfulness and seriousness in his tone. It was typical of him—strong and self-assured, yet still somehow uncertain when it came to matters of the heart. But the way he was holding you, the way his arms had wrapped around you so naturally—it told you everything you needed to know.

“You’re not as big a mess as you think you are, Glen,” you said, your voice soft, a playful smile tugging at the corners of your lips. “At least not when it comes to me.”

Glen smiled back at you, the warmth of it reaching his eyes. The distance between you two, both physically and emotionally, was narrowing with every second.

Another breeze stirred the air, cool against your skin. It caught a strand of your hair, whipping it across your face. You instinctively reached up to brush it away, but before your hand could meet your face, Glen shifted. His fingers grazed your cheek softly, his touch warm as he gently tucked the errant strand of hair behind your ear. His fingers lingered there, resting along your jaw for a heartbeat longer than necessary.

You looked up at him, and in that moment, the world seemed to slow down. His eyes, dark and unreadable, met yours, searching, almost like he was wondering what you were thinking—if you were feeling the same pull he was. His breath caught slightly, the air thick with everything unsaid between you two.

For a long, fragile moment, you were certain neither of you wanted to break the connection, but it was like the world was holding its breath, waiting for something to happen. Glen’s fingers lingered on your face, his touch almost electric, and you could feel the heat rising between you.

He parted his lips like he was about to say something—anything—but then stopped. Something held him back, that same hesitation that had kept him quiet, kept him at a distance all evening. His breath faltered, but you could tell he was fighting himself.

The words left you before you could even think twice about them. Soft, barely a whisper, just enough for him to hear: “Kiss me.”

You weren’t sure if he caught it at first. It was so quiet, almost too soft for him to hear. If he didn’t want to, he could easily dismiss it, pretend he hadn’t heard and let the moment pass. The uncertainty and the weight of the words hung between you, like a fragile thread.

But then Glen’s tongue darted out to lick his lips, and the gesture was enough to make your heart race. Without another word, he closed the distance between you, his lips pressing against yours in a kiss that was soft but full of promise. There was no hesitation now, no second-guessing.

The world melted away, and all that remained was the warmth of his mouth, the sweetness of his breath mingling with yours

The world melted away, and all that remained was the warmth of his mouth, the sweetness of his breath mingling with yours. You could taste the hint of his cologne, feel the heat radiating off his skin as his lips gently moved against yours, a quiet but insistent promise.

You reached up, your hands trembling slightly, and grabbed onto the fabric of his shirt, as if grounding yourself in this moment. His touch was everything—strong, steady, and a little desperate, like he was holding on to something precious. One hand found its way to the back of your neck, his fingers threading through your hair as he gently pulled you closer, his lips urging yours to open. The soft pressure was almost a question, and you answered it without hesitation, your lips parting as his tongue slid in, exploring you with slow, deliberate movements.

The kiss deepened, and everything else faded. His free hand moved to your waist, pulling you against him, making you feel the undeniable heat of his body. The way he held you tightly, possessively, ignited a spark inside you that set your skin on fire. You felt every inch of him, the strength in his arms, the warmth of his chest pressed against yours, his heart racing in time with yours.

Without breaking the kiss, he gently pushed you back, guiding you until you were pinned between his solid body and the railing behind you. You could feel the cool metal against your back, the contrast of it to the heat radiating from him, but it only made the moment more intense, more real.

His mouth never left yours, and you were lost in it—lost in the way he kissed you, in the way he made you feel like you were the only thing that mattered in that instant. His tongue moved against yours, a slow, sensual dance that sent shivers down your spine. He was patient but relentless, as if he couldn't get close enough, as if he wanted to drown in this feeling, in the taste of you.

For a moment, you lost yourself completely in him. The kiss became everything—the way his lips molded to yours, the heat of his body pressed against yours, and the deep, almost desperate need that surged between you. It was as if nothing else in the world existed but the two of you.

When he finally pulled back, just enough to let you both catch your breath, his forehead pressed to yours, his breath ragged. He didn't let go, his hands still on your waist, his body so close you could feel the warmth of him seeping into you. His eyes searched yours, almost like he was asking for permission, or maybe trying to figure out what this meant.

Glen took a slow, deliberate step back, his hands lingering for just a second longer than necessary on your waist, as if reluctant to let go. His gaze locked with yours, still heavy with unspoken words and that same intensity that hung thick in the air. His lips parted slightly, as if he might say something, but the moment lingered—unsaid, just like everything else that had passed between you two.

He reached down, his fingers brushing against yours, and when he grasped your hand, it felt grounding, but at the same time, like a promise. He gently pulled you inside, his touch still warm against your skin, the heat from the kiss still lingering between you.

You stepped closer to him, his hand never leaving yours, and the world outside seemed to fade away once more. The air was different inside—charged in a way that made everything feel more intimate, more real. Glen glanced at you over his shoulder, a subtle smile tugging at the corners of his mouth, his eyes dark with something unreadable, something that only added to the tension building between you.

And then, with a quiet, almost playful tug, he led you further into the house, closing the door softly behind you. 

* * * * *

You stirred slowly, the warmth of the bed and the soft, rhythmic press of Glen’s lips against your shoulder coaxing you out of sleep. His gentle kisses trailed up to your collarbones, each one sending a pleasant shiver down your spine. The sensation was soft, tender—like he was savoring the moment, as if he didn’t want to break the stillness of the morning.

You couldn’t help but smile to yourself, your eyes fluttering open just enough to catch the sight of him—his face only inches from your skin, eyes closed in quiet reverence. His arm tightened around you, pulling you closer as though you were the only thing anchoring him to this moment. It felt so natural, so right, that you could almost forget it was Christmas morning.

With a soft sigh, you rolled onto your back, the bed creaking slightly as you shifted. You turned your head, your gaze meeting his. He hadn’t noticed you were awake, his lips still lightly grazing your skin, his breath warm against your neck.

A small, sleepy smile tugged at the corners of your lips, unable to hide the happiness bubbling up inside you. It was a moment of peace, of simplicity, and you knew it was one you’d carry with you for a long time.

When Glen finally met your eyes, his expression softened, a quiet tenderness in his gaze that made your heart flutter in your chest. He leaned in again, pressing a kiss to your lips, brief but full of meaning. “Merry Christmas,” he whispered, his voice low and rough from sleep.

“Merry Christmas,” you whispered back, your fingers gently brushing against his cheek, the moment feeling so intimate, so perfect.

Just as you were starting to drift back into the peaceful warmth of the moment, Glen’s phone rang, breaking the silence. He groaned and reached for it, clearly annoyed by the interruption. "Not now," he muttered, glancing at the screen and seeing it was Leslie calling.

"Seriously?" you teased, raising an eyebrow. "She can’t let us have five more minutes?"

Glen chuckled, though it was laced with mock frustration. "Guess not. She probably wants us to hurry up and join the rest of the chaos." He answered the call and put it on speaker, letting out another groan. "Leslie, it’s Christmas morning, cut me some slack."

You heard her voice, cheerful but insistent. "Yeah, I know, but you need to get over here! We’re all waiting for you to start the presents."

Glen rubbed a hand over his face, looking over at you with a grin. "Alright, alright. We’ll get up and head right over."

But Leslie, ever the sharp one, picked up on the tone in his voice. "Wait a second," she said with a teasing smirk in her voice. "You said ‘we’ll’ get up? So that means... you’re both still in bed?"

You felt Glen stiffen, his eyes locking onto yours as the corners of his mouth twitched. Before he could respond, Leslie continued, sounding far too smug for 8 AM. "And she’s with you, huh? In your room?"

Glen groaned dramatically, putting a hand to his forehead. "Leslie, it’s too early for this," he muttered, clearly embarrassed by the line of questioning.

Leslie wasn’t letting up, though. "Oh, I get it," she said in a sing-song voice, a little too amused for her own good. "I’ll take that as a ‘yes.’"

Glen looked at you, mouthing, "I’m gonna kill her."

He sighed, sitting up on the bed, clearly trying to change the subject. "Okay, okay. We’ll be over soon, alright? Stop prying."

"Sure, sure. Just don’t take too long, or I might have to send Mom in there to drag you both out," Leslie teased before hanging up with a cheerful goodbye.

Glen, still looking mildly exasperated, dropped the phone onto the bed. He laughed and leaned back against the headboard, stretching his arms over his head. "Alright, guess we should get up and face the madness."

You and Glen exchanged sleepy smiles as you both began to rise from the bed. Glen stretched his arms overhead, letting out a long yawn, before he slipped on his slippers and headed toward the bathroom. You turned toward the guest room, mentally running through the few things you had to do to get ready for the day.

As you dressed, you couldn't help but replay last night in your head—the kiss, the closeness, the way it felt like the world had just slipped away, leaving only the two of you. But now, in the cold light of morning, you couldn’t shake the uncertainty that lingered. What did it mean? What were you to Glen after everything that had happened? Your heart raced as the thought crossed your mind. Was this something you were supposed to talk about? Or would it be just another fleeting moment, like so many others in the past?

You finished getting dressed, smoothing your shirt and running your fingers through your hair, trying to calm the nerves that had appeared out of nowhere. When you stepped out of the guest room, you found Glen already ready, his jacket on and his keys in hand. He was standing by the door, waiting for you.

He gave you a soft smile when he saw you. "Ready?" he asked, his voice warm but with an edge of hesitation that matched how you were feeling.

You nodded, trying to brush off the unease. "Yeah.”

You followed him to the truck, your mind still racing with questions. The drive was quiet at first, the hum of the engine filling the space between you. As you passed the familiar landmarks, your eyes wandered to Glen, who was focused on the road. You wanted to ask him everything, to know where the two of you stood after everything, but you didn’t want to make things awkward.

Finally, Glen broke the silence. “I’ve been thinking,” he started, his voice steady but quiet. He glanced at you for a moment before turning his focus back to the road. “About last night. About us.”

Your heart skipped a beat. “Yeah?” you prompted softly, unsure of where he was going with this.

He let out a breath, his lips curving into a faint, almost self-conscious smile. “Look, I know my life isn’t exactly… simple. My schedule is a mess, and I’m gone a lot. I don’t want to pretend like that’s not going to be a challenge. But,” he paused, his voice growing more certain, “I want to see where this goes. With you. If you’re willing to, that is.”

For a moment, the world seemed to narrow down to just the two of you. You could hear the nervous edge in his voice, the way he shifted slightly in his seat like he wasn’t sure how you’d respond.

You let the weight of his words settle over you before you replied. “I’m willing to,” you said, your voice soft but sure. “I wouldn’t have let last night happen if I wasn’t.”

A flicker of relief crossed his face, and he smiled—an honest, open kind of smile that made your chest feel warm. He reached over, his hand finding yours where it rested on your lap. His touch was gentle but firm, like he was grounding himself in this moment.

“Okay,” he said, his thumb brushing lightly against the back of your hand. “Then we’ll figure it out. Whatever it takes.”

You squeezed his hand, your heart lighter now, but the lingering uncertainty still hung between you. “So, what do we do about your family?” you asked, tilting your head toward him. “Do we tell them, or…?”

He sighed, his lips quirking in a wry smile. “That’s the million-dollar question, isn’t it?” His fingers tapped against the steering wheel, his mind clearly turning over the possibilities. “Part of me thinks it’s better to just get it out there. But another part of me… I don’t want to make today about us when it’s supposed to be about family.”

You nodded, understanding his hesitation. “We don’t have to decide right now,” you offered. “Let’s just see how the day goes.”

Glen smiled again, his gaze soft as it flicked toward you. “Yeah, that sounds like a plan.”

The rest of the drive was filled with a sense of quiet anticipation, the air between you lighter now but still charged with the potential of what was to come. Glen didn’t let go of your hand the entire way, and you couldn’t help but feel that, no matter what, the two of you were in this together.

Glen stepped inside first, his hand still firmly clasping yours as he guided you over the threshold. The sound of laughter and conversation spilled from the living room, filling the house with the unmistakable hum of family.

Glen paused just inside the door, turning to face you. His hand lingered in yours for a moment before he gently released it, reaching instead to help you shrug off your coat. His fingertips brushed lightly against your arms as he slid the thick material off your shoulders. You glanced up at him, catching the faint smile tugging at his lips.

"Thanks," you murmured, offering him a small smile of your own as he hung your coat on the nearby rack.

He gave a slight nod. "Anytime," he replied, his voice low and quiet, just for you.

With that, you made your way toward the living room, Glen trailing close behind. The sight that greeted you was as welcoming as the sounds and smells: his entire family gathered around the tree, mugs of steaming coffee and hot cocoa in hand, their laughter blending with the soft crackle of the fireplace.

"Well, there they are!" Leslie called out, her grin widening as she spotted the two of you.

At her words, all eyes turned to you and Glen. You felt a momentary flush of warmth—not from embarrassment, but from the sheer warmth of the welcome in their gazes. Glen’s mom was the first to rise, crossing the room to pull you into a gentle hug.

“Merry Christmas, sweetheart,” she said, her voice as soft and kind as ever.

“Merry Christmas,” you replied, smiling as you returned the hug.

Glen hung back for a moment, his gaze sweeping over his family before it landed back on you. When his mom released you, he stepped forward to exchange his own hugs and greetings, his presence grounding you in the lively room.

As you settled into the living room, Leslie’s sharp eyes darted between you and Glen, a knowing glint lighting her expression. “You two look cozy,” she teased, raising an eyebrow.

Glen shot her a warning look but didn’t rise to her bait. Instead, he placed a steadying hand on your back as he guided you toward an empty spot on the couch. “It’s still too early for your commentary, Les,” he said dryly, though there was a faint smile tugging at his lips.

You couldn’t help but laugh softly as you sat down, feeling Glen’s hand linger for just a moment longer than necessary before he joined you. The family resumed their chatter, and you felt yourself relax into the warmth of the room and the easy dynamic Glen had with his family.

There was an unspoken understanding between you and Glen as the morning unfolded. Whatever the day might bring, you were in this together, and that made everything—his teasing siblings, the bustling energy, the unrelenting sense of closeness—feel a little less overwhelming and a lot more like home.

The morning carried on with a joyous rhythm, the room buzzing with laughter and the crinkling of wrapping paper as Glen’s mom began handing out gifts from beneath the tree. One by one, brightly wrapped packages found their way into eager hands, and the sound of tearing paper soon filled the room.

You found yourself nestled comfortably on the couch beside Glen, warmth radiating from his side. At some point, almost without thinking, you leaned into him, resting your head lightly on his shoulder. His arm instinctively came up to wrap around you, pulling you just a little closer.

The moment felt effortless, like breathing, and you let yourself savor the comfort of it.

Unfortunately, it didn’t go unnoticed.

“Ohhh, would you look at that?” Leslie’s voice rang out, her tone dripping with mischief.

Your head snapped up, a blush creeping up your cheeks as you realized all eyes were now on you and Glen. His parents exchanged exaggerated grins while his older sister’s gaze softened with a mix of joy and curiosity.

“Well, this is new,” somebody teased.

Glen let out a long-suffering groan, running a hand over his face. “Can we not make this a thing?” he muttered, though there was no real heat in his voice.

Leslie was undeterred, her grin widening as she leaned forward. “Oh, no, this is absolutely a thing. Care to share with the group, Glen?”

He sighed, glancing at you. The flush on your cheeks deepened, but there was no judgment or pressure in his expression—only quiet reassurance.

Finally, he turned back to his family, his shoulders squaring as if bracing himself. “Fine. Yes, we’re… seeing where things go,” he admitted, his voice steady but soft. “And that’s all you’re getting out of me right now.”

His mom clasped her hands together, her face lighting up like the tree behind her. “Oh, Glen,” she said warmly, her joy unmistakable.

The teasing and comments came in waves after that, a mix of playful ribbing and heartfelt congratulations. You felt your face grow impossibly warm, but Glen’s arm around you tightened, grounding you.

Eventually, Glen turned to his family with a pointed look. “Okay, you’ve had your fun. Can we get back to the presents now?”

Leslie laughed but relented, reaching for another package beneath the tree. As the room shifted back to its lively rhythm, Glen leaned in close, his lips brushing against your ear.

“You okay?” he asked, his voice low enough that only you could hear.

You nodded, a small smile tugging at your lips. “Yeah. Are you?”

His eyes softened, and he gave a slight nod. “Yeah.”

And as the morning carried on, the lively chatter and laughter of his family surrounded you, filling the room with warmth. Glen’s arm stayed comfortably around you, an anchor amidst the joyful chaos. For the first time in a long time, you felt at ease—like you belonged, not just in this house but at his side.

Whatever this was, whatever it might become, one thing was clear: this was the beginning of something worth holding onto.

[district4loading]

Just Hold Me

Twice Sana x Male reader

6K Words

Content Warning: smut, fluff, really sappy, mentions of depression and abuse, kinda unrealistic elements

Minors DNI

A/N: I came up with the plot for this one with a friend of mine who I met on here not too long ago. Super cool guy who enjoys my fluffier fics so I didn't mind writing this one.

Please enjoy this really... really fluffy fic. More to come!!!

-

That's what Sana does, and it's why you know that she's the love of your life.

-

It's the sound of the rain hitting the glass, the endless thudding against your bedroom window that has your attention. You stare at it silently, waiting for her to join you in bed as you lay there cold and almost lifeless. There wasn't anything profound about the harsh rainfall outside, you just needed something—anything—to focus on besides your thoughts.

The rooms dark and everything just feels so heavy. It always gets like this when you're alone. You've gotten better at distracting yourself but on nights like these when there's not one single thing that feels right, it gets so hard.

So you find yourself thinking again, your eyes so empty and lost without any purpose. You were in one of your depressive episodes which came around every few months. You've been able to hide it from her for a while now. You kept a smile on your face, you were never not there for her and you found yourself only letting out your true emotions in the shower or any time you had by yourself.

(Usually in the car right after work)

Being all emotional with Sana is something you never want to do. She's too perfect, too precious, and way too pure to have to deal with the absolute train wreck that you are. Something tells you that you need to be the perfect man for her, be strong, be stoic, be a protector. It's in the back of your mind and it's so loud and persistent that you actually believe it.

You can't be there for her if you're crying in her arms about your problems 

So when you see her beautiful face come through your bedroom door, you suck in every bit of sorrow and somehow manage to force a slight smile. She shuts the door behind her and climbs into bed right where she belongs, wrapped in your arms. You get the covers over you and then there comes the warmth that you've been longing for.

Even with her here, your mind is still going and your thoughts begin to swarm. You're too stuck in your head that you don't even notice the lack of words she spoke or the eerie and unusual silence that continues while she's in bed. You only hold her tighter and for the first time tonight you hear her soft voice and it immediately brings you back to reality.

"Y/n"

You only hum in response, staring into the dark room because the position you were in didn't allow you to face each other. You were both laying on your sides, your arms wrapped around her and your chest pressed flush against her back.

Sana brings her hand up and holds yours that rested on her belly "What's going on with you?"

The tone she uses nearly breaks you. It's how concerned she sounds, how genuinely worried she is about you. "What are you talking about?" You really try to make it seem like you have no idea what she means because you know that she shouldn't have to deal with this.

"You've been coming home from work late, you barely eat, and I feel like I haven't seen you smile in weeks"

Your heart sinks as you realize that you may not have been masking it well like you thought you'd been. Not at all.

You force a chuckle "I'm smiling right now" 

She turns over to face you, the side of her face sinking into the soft pillow as she looks into your eyes with serious worry. She doesn't even crack a smile at your joke. "Stop it, I mean a genuine smile. Something's not right... I can see it in your eyes"

"It's really nothing, I promise. Works just been a little stressful"

"Is that all?" 

"I promise, princess" You reach over to move her hair out of her face, then you caress her cheek.

Sana sees the way you nod and how you're looking into her eyes as you speak. She almost believes it but she still has a feeling that there's something you're not telling her. If only you knew how frightened she is about this sudden change in you. She's watched it happen in real time and it brings this uncomfortable twisting feeling in her stomach. One that comes anytime she thinks about it.

But she reluctantly nods after staring into your eyes for a moment "Okay" Is all she says before initiating a change in position. Sana nudges you to lay on your back then snuggles herself into your side, draping her leg just over your lower abdomen. Her arm comes next, landing on your chest. Then she kisses your cheek "I hope you know that I'll always be here for you if you ever need to talk, I love you" She mumbles into your skin.

"I love you too"

Those were the last words spoken before the silence came back and stayed for good. Sana holds you tight like she thinks you might go somewhere and then she falls asleep, leaving you to think about her words. The look in her eyes is now engrained in your mind. They were almost desperate, looking to you for any answer that could give her some knowledge or anything that she can use to help you. It couldn't be more obvious that you need it.

It's killing her and you haven't noticed until now.  

-

You couldn't sleep much at all and by the morning, you found yourself solemnly sitting on the edge of your bed deep in your thoughts once again. It was getting bad. So bad that you didn't even notice when Sana woke up. The moment her eyes flutter open she almost immediately feels it in the atmosphere—the darkness accompanied by the rain knocking against the window. 

She looks over to the digital clock on the nightstand.

Five AM

"Babe?" Sana mumbles through a stifled yawn, sitting up in the dim room. It's still kind of dark out but she can see you clearly. She rubs the sleep out of her eyes and gives in to a short yawn as she waits for you to hum like you always do, or turn around, or do something to at least acknowledge her presence.

She sits up and scoots over "Please talk to me, you're scaring me" She says it in such a cute and wholesome way with her voice as sweet as honey. She's navigated her way next to you, her feet hanging off the bed as she tugs on the hem of her shirt nervously.

It's only then when you're actually snapped out of every bad thought you were having. You look over into her wide eyes and you open your mouth to say something, to lie and tell her to go back to bed. But you can't because there's a lump in your throat so big you're unable to convey any words so instead you swallow and turn your head away.

"Please"

In one last effort to get you to say something, Sana pushes her hand through the space between your arm and your torso, then she holds your hand and interlocks your fingers. She squeezes her hand and you squeeze back to let her know that you're there. You look over to her one last time and she's silently pleading with her teary eyes. "Sana, I..." You pause and swallow again when your voice wavers.

She perks up "It's okay, take your time baby" She comforts you.

"I never told you but... I've been through a lot in the past and I'm fucked up because of it"

Sana gives you a look. It's pity and it's so prominent that you can't even bring yourself to look her in the eye. She's silent for a moment and you start to worry if it's all too much for her to handle. She shouldn't have to deal with someone who's got tons of baggage. "Why did you feel the need to hide it from me?" She asks as a tear rolls down her cheek. That's not the only one though, following it comes multiple, leaving streaks of clear dripping down her face.

"It's a long story and it doesn't matter now. All I'd be doing is wasting your time if you let me sit here and bitch about my problems all day long. You don't deserve that"

You turn your head away from Sana when you feel a tear threaten to fall and you blink it away as quickly as you can. "I will sit here for days and listen to your story if I have to! I'm your girlfriend, I deserve to hear it" She persists but you only keep your head turned away.

"It's irrelevant" 

A heavy, punishing silence follows your statement and you feel Sana let go of your hand and pull it away. You assume that she's going to let it go like you've told her to but instead she puts her palm flat on your back. There's this feeling of relief you get from it and when she begins to rub softly in circles, you feel comfortable again.

Then you look over to Sana because suddenly she's stopped the comforting motions and her eyes have seemed to go empty and there's this look of devastating shock on her face.

The thing is, she's seeing it all. All of your past experiences, the abuse, the negligence, the bullying, everything. Her breaths turn rapid as she sees it so vivid and clear. Graphic images of the torturous violence you've faced when you couldn't have been more than ten years old and then the nasty words they've said that's engrained so deep into your brain.

"Worthless" "Useless" "disgusting" "Kill yourself"

She hears it loudly echoing in her head then she gasps and a new rush of tears falls from her eyes.

You don't know what's happening but it's fucking terrifying and you try your best to snap her out of this trance-like state. "Sana" You call her name and grab her by the shoulders. Then you shake her a bit and with a blink she seems to be back "Are you okay? What happened?" You ask, your heart racing wildly.

Sana comes back, then she looks into your eyes again. But this time there isn't any pity. It's more-so understanding. Something about her gaze feels like she sees you, like she gets it and you didn't even have to say a word. "Oh" She almost sobs, then she whispers "My baby boy" and she wraps her arms around you.

Your heart melts completely and you finally break.

You cry into her shoulder, your tears staining her top but she could care less about it, she only holds you closer and tighter. She runs her fingers through your hair "My sweet prince" She starts, then she has to breath for a moment "You're perfect... you're enough... you're my everything."

"Sana" You shake your head, trying to reject it all, trying not to feel as much as you are right now.

"No" She pulls away from the hug, then makes a quick move to straddle your lap "I fucking love you... I need you" She holds your face in her hands so you have no choice but to look into her eyes. Those beautiful orbs that are so easy to get lost in. So much so that you don't even notice when she leans in to kiss you until your lips are already connected.

Your eyes shut and so do Sana's as you allow this newfound warmth to bind you. The kiss is so slow and sensual, you move your lips in unison with one another. You understand each other like that. If she parts her lips, you know your tongue should be in her mouth. That's exactly what you do. You lick into her mouth with a passion that tells her how much you love her—how much you need her. "I love you" You mumble into the kiss "I need you" then repeat what she said.

You can taste the salty mix of your tears, but neither of you care, you just continue to enjoy this kiss. It feels so good that you actually forget, you actually can't think of anything but Sana right now. That's all you've ever wanted to do. Your hands run up her top and you get a hold of the warm skin of her bare waist then you pull her closer to you.

Sana's hands leave your face, she grabs a hold of your shoulders and begins to push on them. You take the hint and lean backwards until you're laying flat on the bed with her on top of you. You shuffle around so your feet are also on the bed and she helps out with that. Then in no time, your lips are connected again and now you're back to devouring each other. 

"Please... I need..." Sana mutters through the kiss but then she breaks it completely and puts her hands on your chest "I need you" You nod your head and watch as she pulls her top over her head. You need her just as bad right now in this vulnerable moment when you have so much love to give--she's all you need.

So you take your tank top off, almost missing the way her breasts fall free from her shirt. Sana leans over again and kisses you, there's more passion in it this time and you reach your hands over to feel her body. Her skin is always so soft and warm. Moments later you let your hands gravitate to her breasts and you begin to massage them slowly, almost like you're kneading dough but with a bit less rigor and a bit more care.

She moans softly into your mouth and then she pulls away. Sana looks into your eyes for a moment, then scoots herself back so she's sat on your thighs. She grabs the waistband of your pajama pants and begins to tug on them. You raise your hips and allow her to strip you of your pants along with your boxers.

Sana takes your cock into her hand and pumps you to life with her soft hand (There wasn't much work to do because you were already halfway there). You prop yourself up on your elbows so you can watch the moment she lowers her head and sticks her tongue out. She licks the tip softly with her hand still holding the base firmly and then she takes you into her mouth. The first feeling of her soft, saliva coated lips has a low and long groan forcing its way out of your throat.

Her eyes lock with yours and she begins to descend, her hot mouth taking as much of you as possible. Once her lips, come into contact with her fist she comes back up and starts bobbing her head while she strokes you. "Fuck.. Sana - that feels so... good" You sigh while her velvety tongue scrapes against the underside of your cock.

It's one of the best feelings ever, the best part being that Sana won't take her eyes off of you. Although she can't speak, her eyes tell you everything that you need to know. She's looking at you with so much love and care that it brings you some actual comfort, like you two are the only living beings in the entire universe right now. Anything that matters or has ever mattered is now irrelevant, not even your demons could get to you in this bubble.

That's what Sana does, and it's why you know that she's the love of your life. 

You've known it for a while now but never has there ever been a moment like this thats made the fact so apparent. "I love you" There's a shudder in your voice when you say the words because she's doing everything right. Both her mouth and her hand are working together to please you and it only feels better the sloppier everything gets. 

In a moment, Sana withdraws her mouth with a popping sound following and she begins to jerk you off "I love you more" she smiles, then pokes out her tongue to let it rest against your tip so she can lap up the pre-cum leaking endlessly. "You ready for me?" There's a cute smirk that accompanies the simple question.

"Yes please" You nod and then you watch as she takes off her shorts and panties. Now her completely bare body is exposed to you and everything about it is pure perfection. "You're perfect" You sigh as she climbs on top of you.

Sana only giggles "Not as perfect as you my sweet prince." Her smile makes your pupils dilate nearly ten times as big as they already were. You didn't agree with her, but you let her have this one because there's no use in ruining this beautiful moment with something as morose as self deprecation. It doesn't at all change the fact that her words make you so feel warm inside that it might just be enough to make the thick ice in your cold heart thaw. 

She leans over, laying her soft body on yours and she kisses you softly. Your hands find her waist again—because they're supposed to be there—and you squeeze her supple flesh "I need you... so bad" You mumble the words desperately against her lips and Sana kisses you harder, reaching her hand down to find your cock.

It's throbbing in her hold, only for her and you feel her smile when she notices it. Sana lifts her hips and presses your tip into her entrance, wasting no time to lower herself nice and slow. Her tight cunt grips you firmly as she sinks down and you can't help but moan into her mouth as your nerves begin to register the heat. 

"Fuck" Sana breaks the kiss, her face only millimeters away from yours when her thighs land on your lap. Her face twists up, her jaw clenches and her eyes shut as she tries to get used to the stretch of your thick cock. "Your cock is so fucking..." She grits, exhaling a hot breath against your cheek before raising her hips and slamming them back down.

She connects your lips again and then she begins to ride you, moving her hips up and down in this slowed and steadied rhythm. It has you bucking your hips to meet hers half-way because she feels so fucking good. Sana moans into your mouth freely and loudly, struggling more and more to continue the kiss as she fucks you.

Soon enough, her mouth is hanging open and it's you doing all the work, kissing, licking and sucking her plump lips. 

There's something so perfect about being inside of Sana, especially when she's riding you. Her pussy wraps around you just right, like a tight warm hug (only it's sopping wet). With each movement she makes lighting each one of your nerves on fire to make sure that you feel the almost electric pleasure. It's how she moves her hips with such direction and purpose that has your toes curling and your heart pumping. Then it's the way her cunt clenches occasionally when you're completely buried inside.

Sana's an expert at this, she's mastered the art of riding you at this point in your relationship. She knows exactly what movements make you tick, how to moan your name, how to praise you--all to get you reeling with her name on your lips.

She knows you like the back of her hand.

She lifts herself a bit then plants her hands on your shoulders and she begins to roll her hips back and forth in a way that has your eyes threatening to roll back into your skull but you keep them on her. You have to see it. How perfect her tits look bouncing with the force of her motions, the pleasureful look on her face, the lust in her eyes and the sweat beading on her flushed body. Sana looks too perfect right now for you to miss anything.

"Sana, your pussy... feels so damn good" You moan, hands still holding on so tightly to her waist that you're leaving marks. "I fucking love you" 

"You're so perfect, my love" A warm smile shows on her lips, she takes your hands and interlocks your fingers, pinning your arms to the bed. "I can't imagine... fuck" She moans involuntarily and she's getting close already "I couldn't imagine life without you" She admits through her warm haze.

"I'm not going anywhere, princess" You promise with so much conviction it's like God himself is speaking through you.

Because Sana fucking needs you just as much as you need her and you just can't let this depression eat you alive when you have her.

You won't. 

Sana's the opposite of a liability. She only uplifts you, she makes you feel so good about yourself that you'd think you were on top of the world. She makes life worth all the bad and she's probably the best thing you have in this life. She's someone you can brag about without fail or embarrassment.

That is where you find some hope. Some actual hope in the sea of despair you've been floating lifelessly in.

"I-I'm close" Sana warns, snapping you out of your thoughts and it's definitely coming. You see all the signs. The way her hips stutter, how she's just bouncing her petite ass on your lap with her eyes shut and her bottom lip tucked between her teeth. There's also that pulsing inside of her wet heat that you just can't ignore.

She's right there

When she starts struggling to make her movements smooth, you take her waist back into your hands. Then Sana falls forwards, some of her brown hair getting in your face as you hold her in place tightly so she cant move. Before Sana can even complain about it you're using nothing but your core strength to piston your cock into her at a speed so ungodly it has her jaw dropping.

"Yeah - Yeah just like that, princess. Cum for me" Your voice shakes as you sing her praises because your body could give out at any moment if you keep fucking her like this. You begin to break a sweat, your cock burning up as you fuck her soaked cunt. The noise is filthy. Now that she's gone silent, you can hear it loud and clear. Every sticky squelch when your hips meet the backs of her thighs is so obscenely loud in your ears. "Come on, Sana" You nearly heave into her ear.

Then she begins to shudder and you know you have her when "Ah fuck baby I'm cumming. I'm fucking -" she cuts herself off with a vocal moan. Her slick wets your entire lap, spreading everywhere as her hips go wild in an attempt to ride out her high. You never stopped grinding into her either, all deep and slow inside so she'd feel every inch as she cums. "God" She sighs and then she stops moving and you follow suit.

Sana weakly brings her head up and connects your lips again. You kiss back, immediately pouring your entire heart into this kiss because she deserves it. She deserves everything. When she starts moving again you stop her with your hands "Baby" She whines, then your lips disconnect. She pouts at you "I want to make you cum" She tries moving again but you don't say anything.

You flip her over gently, then get yourself between her legs "I want us to cum together" 

She looks into your eyes then lifts her hand to caress your cheek softly "Whatever you want my sweet prince" You nearly melt at the term of endearment because it makes you feel so connected to her. The genuine tone in her voice accompanied by the softness makes it even more intimate and the 'my' signifying that you're hers because you'll always be. 

It's one of your favorites.

Sana notices how your eyes soften as you look into hers and you don't even break eye contact when you guide your tip towards her begging entrance. As you slide in, her eyebrows furrow, but she keeps looking at you with those big beautiful eyes. You lean over to put your lips on hers once more and that's when you begin to move. 

You make sure Sana feels every single inch, the way you fuck her with such a slow, burning passion. It lights her heart on fire. "I can't - baby.. you're so deep" She's losing it at the angle because nothing compares to the way your cock rubs against her walls, just brushing past all of her tender spots. 

The only thing you do is kiss her harder, your tongue exploring the warm confines of her mouth. Kissing Sana has always been one of your favorite intimate acts to do with her and if she'd let you, you'd have make out sessions that last hours upon hours on end.

Sana takes your lip in between her teeth as you pull away and then she lets go, her moans soft when you pick up the pace. You duck your head into her neck and you begin to kiss, lick and suck on the soft skin "Do whatever you want, I'm yours baby" Sana assures you, running her fingers through your hair as you begin to leave sweet marks on her. 

You increase your speed a bit, not so much that it feels punishing but enough for her to know that she feels so good that you almost can't help yourself. "So wet and tight for me, princess" You growl against her skin and Sana begins to lose her breath.

"Yes - right there - fucking hell baby" Sana gasps, her arms wrapping tightly around your body. She stops herself from scratching even if she wants to and in the back of her mind she know's you would never mind it. 

Either way she only hugs your body close to hers.

"Princess... I hope you're almost there cause... I" You almost whimper the words into her neck.

"Shh- I know baby, just go ahead" She rubs the back of your head in a way that feels so good that it's almost like magic. "Inside" and then a small gasp escapes her lips and before you know it, your cock is spasming inside of her and you're filling her tight cunt, painting those perfect velvety walls white. A choked groan escapes your lips and tears begin to brim your eyelids as the pleasure takes over your entire body. It has you nearly shaking, making the most expressive 'O' face you've made in maybe months.

"Fuck" You groan as you keep thrusting, fucking your load so deep it'll probably slip past her IUD. Then when everything else subsides, your cock almost goes numb as you try your hardest to get Sana there no matter what because she deserves it.

"Don't stop" Sana begs, and her voice sounds so desperate when she does because she's so close. All it took was for her to feel your cock spraying your warm cum inside of her to get her there.

When Sana's chest begins to rise you know you've got her "There you go baby, cum for me" You whisper and that's when a strangled—almost sob-like—moan leaves her mouth. You keep the pace to fuck her though it as she shudders through her orgasm.

You stop completely and you two just lay there in that position for a moment. Soon Sana begins rubbing the smooth skin on your back and you take a deep breath "I love you" you murmur.

"I love you" She begins and you give her a moment to gather her thoughts. You'd give her all the time in the world if you could. "I know I said it already but you can tell me anything. No matter what. I don't care how long it is or how fucked up it is, I want to hear your story. I need to"

"You won't look at me the same after" You mutter weakly, still not moving from where you are.

Sana stays silent for a moment "Yeah, maybe you're right" She starts off and it catches you off guard a bit but then she continues "When I look at you, I'll see someone strong. Stronger than who you were before because whatever you went through, it couldn't have been easy to endure. Most people would've already given up"

You finally decide to get off of her and you sit up on the bed. "How would you even know that?" The question might've seemed harsh but Sana knows you don't mean it like that. The reason you ask is because its scary. So scary that she's saying all the right things.

It's almost like she...

"Because I saw it!" Sana sits up as well, kind of regretting how her words come off "Well, glimpses of it" She corrects, then begins to think again and you allow it because you have no clue what to say at all "When I touched you, before we..." She shakes her head "I saw like... small pieces of everything. I saw the abuse, I heard the words.. I just... I couldn't believe it"

You only tilt your head because it's all you can really bring yourself to do. This revelation is nearly bone chilling and so inconceivable that you force yourself to believe that she's lying whether or not if it was out of character for her to joke or lie in a situation like this. "Sana that's not funny" You sort of scold her, but your voice isn't at all cold about it.

"I'm not joking" She insists.

Then, in your bedroom at maybe seven-ish in the morning, with the rain still hitting the window, Sana explains everything she saw in her visions in detail.

That's when you come to really believe that she isn't joking.

-

The warm water from the shower head cascades down your body smoothly and comfortably, nothing like the harsh rain outside. You wrap your arms around Sana and rest your chin on her shoulder "So if you already saw what I went through, why do I need to re-tell it to you?" are the first words spoken for the entire duration of your time in the shower. 

It started off silent, the two of you cleaning each other and kissing as you enjoyed the hot water and each others presence. It was a well needed contrast from the endless talking you did in the bedroom just before. You can see the soft smile on Sana's face in the reflection of the glass door "Well, I didn't see everything" She turns around in your arms "and it'll be good for you to say it out loud, I mean I don't expect you to be better in a day. I get that it takes time but-"

Sana stops talking when you put your lips on hers, leaving a small peck on her lips. "Listen princess, you're not my therapist. I don't wanna dump that burden on you. You understand that it wouldn't be good for us, right?" It's true, treating your significant other like a therapist can lead to many bumps in a relationship. But maybe that's just another excuse as to why you've been hiding everything from Sana.

"Oh? Where'd you learn that?"

"The internet" You shrug

Sana puts her hand on your bare chest and looks into your eyes, with those loving eyes. "Well, I may not be a licensed therapist but it's important for me to know because I'm your girlfriend and I want you to be able to open up to me like I open up to you about everything" You open your mouth to say something else but Sana shushes you then she reaches for the shampoo "Now wash my hair for me, pretty please?" You can't help but smile because she's so adorable.

When Sana turns around and tilts her head back, you grumble "I still think its super weird that you have like... superpowers."

"How do you think I feel? I'm still freaked out about it" She whines playfully as you lather her hair in her shampoo. The scent is warm and floral and you can't help but lose your breath trying to inhale more and more of it. It's one of those scents that only Sana has. So to you, it quite literally belongs to her, no matter who else may use it.

-

"The rain stopped" You mutter softly to the girl laying on your chest with her leg thrown over you. Sana only hums at your realization and you turn over to look at the window. It's covered by your curtains because you've both decided to go back to sleep but you can still see the sun peaking through.

You smile softly, thinking about how you agreed to tell her everything when you wake up. It doesn't feel scary anymore. In fact, you were actually looking forward to getting everything off your chest. You know you'll probably end up crying in front of her again--which you're still a bit embarrassed about--but you also know that she'll be there to hold you and knowing her she'll probably cry too.

That's when you eventually doze off, and for once it's easy.

"Babe?" Sana calls your name but she only hears your heavy breathing and from that she concludes that you're asleep. She innocently shifts just a bit to make herself more comfy and it happens again.

She sees something

At first it's kind of blurry so it's difficult for her to make out but as it gets clearer, she realizes that it's the both of you cuddling in bed together.

Then just like that, it's gone. Sana jumps, a small gasp escaping her lips and it wakes you up. "Whats wrong princess?" You ask tiredly, blinking when you notice the tears running down her cheeks. "Bad dream?" 

Sana only shakes her head "No... baby, it's beautiful" she cries. You try to sit up because you're really concerned but Sana stops you. "Just let me hold you" She sniffles and you reluctantly nod, allowing her to wrap her arms around you the best as she can.

You're put at ease because she doesn't seem sad at all.

It's almost like she's right where she wants to be.

[boysmentfs]

The trip to the beach.

A collaboration with @misctf .

Steve was the most cliché of the word "nerd" with only 5'4 tall, with pimples and with irritating little voice he was the target for the jock boys in his university. But despite being victim of sneers and bullying, he was the happiest student in college, he always smiled, helped people and was quite studious. So the mockery towards him mattered little to him. Today was a beautiful Saturday afternoon, Steve was studying hard in his room, he didn't have any plans for today and he didn't care to have one either, his parents were not home so he enjoyed being alone quietly until someone knocked on his house door.

"Who could it be?" Steve sighed, “I’m really behind on my work.” He looked at the essay he was in the midst of completing, “I should...” The second knock was louder, “Must be important.”

Steve quickly made his way to the front door. As he went to open it, he paused. He could hear the boisterous laughter from the other side, the frequent use of the word ‘bro’, and a few belches. His stomach dropped.

“What could they possibly want?” Steve thought miserably, “I should really...” He sighed. It wasn’t in his nature to just ignore someone. What if they needed help?

“Oh shit! Look who it is! What’s up lil’ bro?” Garrett laughed, emphasizing the word ‘lil’. He put his arms behind his head, his biceps bulging.

“Uh hey.” Steve stammered, “Uhm, I...I...” His mind was racing, trying not to stare. Garrett was rather good-looking- dark hair and eyes, his chiseled face framed by a well-groomed, short beard. And looking further down, it was obvious that his years on the baseball team did wonders for his body- all of which was framed nicely in his tight tank-top, “Sorry, just studying today.” Steve blushed, mentally admonishing himself for making it so obvious that he had a thing for the star pitches on the team.

"Studying?! Lil’ dude, come on.” Garrett groaned, nudging one of the other jocks, “Seriously dude, how lame. How about this? We came here to invite you to the beach.” He placed his firm rugged hand on Steve’s shoulder and grinned, “Lil’ dude, it’s gonna be fuckin’ lit. Cheerleaders, booze, you name it. When’s the last time you did something like that, huh lil’ dude?��

Hearing this, Steve raised an eyebrow. None of these things were as appealing to him as Garrett likely thought they’d be. Although, the naively optimistic part of Steve wanted to imagine this could be the start of a friendship with Garrett. Part of him yearning for closeness with the jock. But Steve shook his head before adjusting his glasses- on what planet would he ever be friends with Garrett?

"I don't want to be rude or offensive, but why are you inviting me?” Steve questioned, “Jake and Logan were just bullying me the other day.” The two jocks behind Garrett snickered, earning them a disapproving look from Garrett.

"I know... Dude, but believe me we want to make peace, me and my bros promise we won't make fun of you again!” Garrett replied, no hint of insincerity in his tone, “Besides, it's Saturday and being at home? It's boring as hell."

Steve sighed, mulling over the offer. Would it be nice not to be bullied by these meatheads? Yeah. Would it be nice to spend time with Garrett? Yeah. Did he really think they’d make peace after this? Steve sighed again- the rational part of him saying to shut the door. The other saying to give these bros a chance.

"Okay, okay... I’ll go.” Steve said, the uncertainty of his choice evident in his voice.

“Oh sick lil’ bruh, but like, don’t sound too disappointed.” Garrett laughed, slapping him on the back and knocking the wind out of his small frame.

“But really, I’m doing this to make peace.” Steve insisted, “No funny business.” He tried to sound confident and stern. Garrett smiled and gave him an enthusiastic thumbs up, “Oh and..." Steve bit his lip, “This is so embarrassing but it’s been so long since I’ve been to the beach. I don’t really have any appropriate swimwear.”

"That shouldn't worry you bro! Give me a second." Garret grinned, “You’re just in luck, lil’ dude.” Garrett seemed way too excited, “Check out these!” His bro reached into a bag and handed him some green shorts with a bit of blue and gave them to Steve. "Here! These shorts belonged to one of our bros. Well former bro. He went on to bigger and better things.” Garrett sighed, “Internship or some shit. Brains and brawn, can you believe it?” The other jocks snickered.

Steve looked at the shorts and made a face of disgust. Did Garrett and his bros really think he would wear someone else’s shorts? Why did they seem to have them ready too? Steve awkwardly grabbed the shorts, and looked back over at the group of jocks.

"Garrett... I uh." Steve could see the look of excitement in Garrett’s eyes. Like he was proud of something, “I don’t really feel comfortable wearing another guy’s shorts. And besides, these aren’t going to fit me."

“And why not, lil bro? I wear my bro’s stuff all the time.” Garrett grinned, “I understand that you don't have the same muscle mass as us, but they’re shorts, shorts look good on everyone."

"Yes... but..." Steve sighed- how was he going to make these oafs understand his discomfort when they clearly had no shame?

"Dude, just get changed. We’ll wait here for you." Garrett grinned, “Come on bros, I’ll get the car started. I got a bomb playlist.”

Steve watched as they walked back to their car, all chuckling and talking about their beach plans. And before long, loud obnoxious music filled the air. Steve cringed, worrying what his neighbors might think of the loud music.

“The faster I get this on, the faster we get out of here.” Steve figured, walking back to his room.

Once there, he quickly undressed and examined himself in the mirror. He frowned as he examined his short and lanky frame- his skin pale from the hours spent indoors studying. His brown hair a curly mess atop his head. Nothing compared to the healthy tans and meaty muscles Garrett and his bros sported. Steve shook his head, ignoring these negative thoughts. Instead, he turned his attention to the pair of shorts in his hand.

"This is so disgusting...” Steve mumbled, taking a whiff of them, “Oh god, did they even wash this?” Steve was instantly teleported back to his high school locker room- the smell wafting from these shorts an unpleasant reminder of his days in gym class, “What have I gotten myself into?”

He grimaced as he slowly pulled the shorts up his skinny legs, where they rested over his Marvel boxer briefs. Yet despite his initial disgust, he was surprised to see how well they fit. He figured he owed Garrett some credit- shorts do look good on anyone. Steve walked over to his closet, rummaging around until he found on of his old discarded tank-tops. After placing that over his skinny frame, he smiled.

“Okay, I kind of look the part.” He commented, flexing his skinny arm, “Almost.” He laughed, thinking how ridiculous he must’ve looked.

And as he turned away from the mirror, he felt a wave of vertigo wash over him. He stumbled forward, catching himself against a wall. Steve groaned and wiped some sweat from his forehead, trying to make sense of the sudden dizziness. But as quickly as it had come on, it had passed. And Steve awkwardly walked to the front door, each step feeling somewhat heavier and requiring more focus.

“Oh lil’ dude, you look great!” Garrett said, approaching him, “You’re more than ready for the beach.” He raised an eyebrow, “Ah wait, lil’ dude you forgot your shoes. Logan! Grab ‘em a pair from the trunk.”

Steve only nodded, not really paying all that much attention. His mind felt foggy, his body heavier. When Logan threw the pair of worn-out sandals at his feet, Steve just slid them on. They were clearly too large for him, but he didn’t have the mental bandwidth to make a comment.

“Lookin’ good on ya!” Garrett grinned, putting an arm around Steve’s shoulder and leading him to the car, “God, you reek, lil’ dude.”

Steve shook his head, “No... it’s... it’s the shorts.” He replied, “They smell...”

“Sure, sure lil’ dude.” Garrett chuckled.

Steve wanted to say something in response, but he felt a slight achiness in his feet. And when he looked down, he could have sworn that they looked bigger and now sporting tufts of hair. In that moment, Steve could’ve also sworn that his nostrils were being invaded by an increasingly intense odor- reminiscent of the locker room but somehow worse. Sour and musky, all at once.

“Alrighty lil’ dude, get in.” Garrett said, "Let's go!"

Steve could barely focus. The smells, the boisterous laughter, and the blaring laughter from the bros around him. He grimaced as a can of beer rolled around in the backseat, hitting his foot. He watched as Logan reached down and smirked, before shot gunning the can of beer while his bros cheered.

“Lil’ bro, why don’t you try one?” Garrett asked from the driver’s seat, “Pregame for me, since I’m drivin’ and shit.”

“I’m good.” Steve replied, clearing his throat. His voice sounded off, “I’m not feeling too...”

A beer was thrust against his skinny chest and he looked over at Logan, who had a wide grin on his face. Steve held the beer, staring at it closely. And with his meatier hands, cracked it open. Steve never drank- it wasn’t his thing. But as he cracked open the can, he felt compelled. He was gonna chug it. And as the bros cheered him on, Steve did just that. As he did, he couldn’t possibly realize the bulge in his shorts was growing. His member growing in size, going from a measly 5 centimeters to an astonishing 14 centimeters, a dense forest of pubes sprouting around his new member.

“Buuuuuuuurrrrrppppppppp.” Steve grinned slightly as he crushed the can in his hand as his bros cheered, “That wasn’t so bad.”

“Fuck yeah lil’ dude!” Garrett cheered from the front.

“That was sick bruh!” Logan playfully punched Steve’s arm.

Steve looked down at where Logan punched him and his eyes widened. His arms... his skinny arms... they looked bigger? More defined. Muscles Steve knew he had but never saw were suddenly becoming quite obvious to the naked eye. He looked up at Logan and then up to Garrett.

“Hey somethin’s...” Steve froze. That baritone voice couldn’t possibly be...

But no one paid him any attention. They were going on about the cheerleaders, although Steve noticed Garrett was oddly quiet during the conversation. Occasionally glancing at Steve through the mirror. Steve stirred uncomfortably as Garrett stole glances at him. Why did he keep looking at him? He blushed slightly, trying to appear smaller, but his growing pecs and widening frame made that difficult. He was taking up more space now, becoming uncomfortably close to Logan.

“Dude, can you...”

“Not my fault this car’s so fuckin’ small.” Steve’s eyes widened. He would never talk like that, “What the fuck?” The fogginess in his mind was starting to dissipate. He was becoming acutely aware of his newly massive frame, enlarging pecs, and arms that looked more like tree-trunks than sticks.

Garrett turned to look at him and smiled. "What's wrong bro? You look good.”

“I... don’t... fuckin’...” Steve groaned as his tank-top ripped and he tossed the ruined fabric into the trunk.

He grunted as his muscles pulsed again and again. His frame expanding larger and larger, while Logan just grinned, despite losing more room in the back of the car. Steve gasped as small blond hairs erupted from his massive arms and traveled up. And when they finished coating his massive forearms, the hair in his pits exploded into a dense, musky forest. He grimaced at the smell wafting from them, yet at time went on, the smell was becoming familiar. Somewhat nice actually. He brought his hands to his head as his head started pounding. And in the car’s mirror, he saw that his hair was becoming blond. His curly locks reshaping into a sporty cut. His face becoming sharp and defined, his lips puffing up and forming into a permanent smirk.

“Eric, bruh, you good?” Garrett asked.

Steve let out a baritone groan, “Nah bruh, who the fuck’s Eric?” He grabbed his head again, “That’s... not... my... name...”

As he made eye contact with Garrett, he could feel it. A set of memories. Gym sessions with Garrett. Going to sporting events. Playing videogames. Waking up in each other’s arms... tearing each other’s clothes off... fucking... Steve realized in that moment. Garrett and Eric. They were more than frat bros... they were... A small smile formed on Steve’s lips as he felt Eric’s personality and mind overtake his. And in that moment, he came. The climax so intense that he passed out in the back seat.

“Took him long enough.” Logan chuckled, “You happy Garrett?”

Garrett nodded and parked the car, “Alright bros, give him some time to rest.” Garrett smiled at his sleeping boyfriend, “I’ll be right behind you all.”

As his bros started walking to the beach, Garrett opened backseat door and smiled at his hunk of a boyfriend. He ran a hand down his jaw and gave him a quick kiss, before grabbing his cum-soaked shorts.

“Was hoping you’d save that for me.” Garrett smirked, “But all good, bruh.” He kissed him on the cheek, before quietly shutting the door. He’d let Eric get some rest- besides, they had a long night ahead of them.

[corkinavoid]

No Eyed Girl by Lemon Demon

Star Crossed Lovers

Space aesthetic

:3

(Can you tell I'm in love with aliens and space?)

DPxDC In Love With Space

"Someone's excited," Cassie teases, but Tim doesn't pay her any attention. The Bioship carries them through the clouds and up, closer and closer to the stars, and Tim's heart flutters a little in his chest.

"I don't think I've ever seen you so eager to get away from Earth before," Kon muses, leaning forward to get a better look at Tim's expression, and that causes him to blink and finally look away from the endless void of space that awaits them.

"I'm not really eager to get away," he corrects, and, in a moment of brilliant mischief - because one never just misses an opportunity to mess with their teammates - grins, feeling his cheeks heat up slightly. "It's just that when you spend a long time in love with space, it eventually falls in love with you, too."

Kon's face looks rightfully confused, which is exactly what Tim was aiming for. But not for long.

Not after a sound of fleeting, flattered distant laughter rings through the ship, and Kon's face shifts from confusion into alarm. But Tim's heart skips a bit for an entirely different reason, and he runs a hand over his cheek, trying to cool it down because it feels like his face is actually on fire now.

Shit, he definitely heard that.

Not that Tim minds, he'd say it again to his face, but... Let's say he was simply caught off-guard. Yeah, that's definitely why he is now a color of a tomato, and not because his boyfriend is a stalking little shit that decided on the most dramatic coming out possible.

He hears the worried voices of his friends behind him, something about the Bioship detecting a mass of something unidentifiable right in front of them, but he doesn't listen. Sure, he could tell them it's okay. He could explain that he knows exactly what said 'mass' is.

But he is decidedly not about to ruin Danny's performance because where's the fun in that?

The space in front of them shifts. Not inside the ship, no, the whole starry sky out the window moves, like it's merely a picture and not actual galaxies and nebulae out there. And then, there's another sound, like an ice crack in the distance, and a big, roughly the size of Tim's whole body, arm comes through the front shield of the Bioship. It's made of the empty darkness and bright stars, a piece of vast universe given form, and the claws clink against the metal floors as more and more of this impossible being comes through the reinforced glass and onto the deck.

It has no eyes of mouth, and its hair is merely a messy outline on top of their head. It's just... stars, planets, and comets and galaxies shaped in a vaguely humanoid form.

The form that stops trying to get inside the ship when it gets themselves in just halfway, and then lies its chin down on its elbows, their face right in front of Tim's. Or, well, not face, since it lacks all kinds of facial features, but Tim still feels that fond gaze of theirs on himself.

"Talking about me with your friends behind my back, Starlight, I see how it is," the being chuckles, tilting it's head to the side, the whisps of their hair floating gently in the air. Their voice sounds like a whisper of a shooting star, a roar of an avalanche, a gentle hum of electricity, all at once.

"Rob, what-" he hears Cassie start, but he is already taking a step closer, carefully pressing a kiss to where the being's cheek should be. It's a little weird when he is in this form, what with his head being twice as big as Tim's own, but, sue him, he likes the drama of it no less than Danny does.

Right on cue, his teammates all gasp and choke on air behind him.

"Hi, dear," he teases his boyfriend slightly, and Danny reaches one of his clawed hands forward, very carefully wrapping his fingers around Tim's body.

"When you spend a long time in love with space, it does eventually fall in love with you, too, yes," he gently repeats and confirms Tim's words from before, and Tim can't see it, but he knows Danny is smiling.

He also knows he is smiling as well.

~•~•~•~

Just for fun, as a finishing touch, here's the aesthetic I put together for this:

I really, really loved the song, by the way, I think I'm going to play that on repeat now.

Hope you like the piece!

[sammycutiepie]

*Hearts Beyond Reason*

Viktor

writer's note: hello here, ican't explain how much i enjoyed writing this, i have a soft spot for viktor. btw, for those who don't know, this story came from one of my arcane imagines, here is the link in case you want to see the other scenarios, of which i will continue to upload little stories like these during the course of this week, tomorrow it's jinx's turn ;)

link:

warnings: kind of a smut, blowjob, praise kink, mature language, princess treatment for my man, pet names, and a little bit of fluff... just a little bit, we love sassy viktor, also, reader is a baddie.

The auditorium was filled, a sea of brilliant minds awaiting eagerly. Viktor, a renowned scientist specializing in artificial intelligence and robotics, approached the podium with a modest posture, though his reputation preceded any presentation. With his calm and precise voice, he explained how his latest research in biotechnology could revolutionize smart prosthetics.

From your seat, you took quick notes, constantly reviewing to ensure nothing slipped by, as everything coming out of his mouth was incredibly brilliant and unprecedented. You had covered many scientific conferences, but there was something in his approach, in his ability to balance technical complexity with humanity, that kept you intrigued. Maybe it was his distinct kind of Czech accent or the way his eyes drifted to the ceiling, avoiding focusing on the crowd in front of him. He was nervous; public speaking wasn’t his forte, you immediately realized, and you found it incredibly endearing.

When he finished, the room erupted in applause. Apparently, you weren’t the only one impressed. You wasted no time and rushed toward him, dodging other attendees as if in a Mario Kart race.

"Excuse me, Mr. Viktor," you said, adjusting your glasses and catching your breath. "I’m a journalist from The Innovator's Journal. Could I have a brief interview?"

Viktor turned toward you, assessing you with a probing gaze.

You met his eyes with a faint smile, your long lashes fluttering in a cautious flirtation. Subtle non-verbal manipulations you had learned over your career, because journalism wasn’t an easy job, especially not for women. Sometimes, you had to make use of certain physical attributes to draw the attention of interview subjects.

But Viktor didn’t react the way others did. He didn’t look beyond your face.

"For The Innovator’s Journal?" he asked, his accent soft yet distinct. You nodded, mesmerized, and he seemed to consider your request. "I generally don’t accept impromptu interviews, but you seem... determined."

You took a step closer, but without fully invading his personal space, just enough to better perceive his scent. His fragrance was an esoteric, almost magical blend—soft yet noticeable. If stars had a scent, it would surely smell like him.

"I know how to seize opportunities when I see them," you replied with a sharp smile, not fully showing your teeth, as if toying with the possibilities.

A flicker of what seemed like amusement crossed his gaze before he nodded.

"Five minutes," he said, leading you to a quieter corner.

You blinked quickly, not expecting such an ultimatum. However, you didn’t keep him waiting and pulled out your recorder. Clearing your throat to keep your voice steady, you began.

"Your research has been described as a bridge between biotechnology and humanity. Is that what you’re aiming for?"

Viktor slightly tilted his head, as if finding the question deeper than expected.

"I seek to close the gaps," he responded calmly. "Between human abilities and the opportunities that technology offers."

"But some critics argue that it could make people too dependent on machines. How do you respond to that?"

You were known for being controversial; you liked pushing people to their limits. You loved seeing their reactions and enjoyed tense environments. Maybe it was a bit machiavellian, but you didn’t mind, you saw it as part of your job.

His eyes narrowed slightly, not in anger but because he was thinking carefully.

"Dependency isn’t the problem, but how we use what we create. Tools are an extension of our abilities, not a replacement."

He knew what he was doing. He had answered with careful words—if he weren’t a scientist, he’d have had a brilliant career in politics. His response was decisive, but you were expecting more, so you decided to take a risk with something more personal.

"And you? How do you see yourself on this bridge between humanity and technology?"

You asked it clearly regarding his physical disability, as he still walked with a cane and hadn’t implanted one of his much-publicized smart prosthetics.

He paused for a moment before answering. His gaze drifted slightly to the room before returning to you.

"I suppose I’m someone who walks that bridge carefully. It’s a fragile balance, but it’s necessary."

The way his words resonated, heavy with a sort of melancholy, made you forget, for a moment, that you were supposed to be the journalist. There was something more to him, something not easily revealed.

When you finished, you stored your recorder and dared to smile at him again, this time without ulterior motives—a genuine smile.

"Thank you, Mr. Viktor. It was a fascinating conversation," you said, tempted to add that he was equally fascinating, but you refrained.

You didn’t want to scare him off. Viktor seemed like the type of man who didn’t have much female contact, you could easily tell by his physical discomfort. When he spoke with you, his body was tense, and he didn’t gesticulate much. He seemed more like a robot than a person.

"A pleasure, Miss," he responded with a slight nod.

There was a brief silence before you decided to take the next step.

"I must admit, I’m not only intrigued by your work but by you as well. Would you like to continue this conversation over dinner?"

You felt your heart race when that question escaped your lips. You hoped you hadn’t scared him off. It was the first time in a long while that a man had caught your attention so intensely.

For a moment, Viktor seemed surprised. Then, his expression softened, though still laden with reservation.

"I don’t usually accept those types of invitations," he admitted, though his tone didn’t sound too convincing.

That wasn’t a rejection, at least not a definitive one. He was evaluating you. Clearly, he didn’t trust you yet. You adapted to the situation and played his game. You weren’t going to let such a man slip away so easily.

"And I don’t usually make them. Few things capture my attention enough to take such a risk. You see, Mr. Viktor, I’m not easily impressed," you replied, maintaining a confident gaze.

His lips curved just slightly into a smile, a kind of wry smirk that was impossible to read.

Viktor was an enigma you were dying to decode.

"In that case, I’ll accept. After all, curiosity is a virtue," he handed you his personal card with all his contact details, practically leaving everything in your hands, giving you the final word.

Your heart skipped another beat, and as you watched him leave, you knew that conversation was just the beginning. Oh, and you couldn’t wait to see what was coming next.

Viktor decided to go for one of his typical nightly walks after escaping that room filled with important names and fake smiles. Fortunately, he managed to slip away before getting caught up in that pathetic charade. Viktor despised those events; the so-called "scientists" who attended seemed more interested in taking pictures with him than in seriously discussing their projects. They didn’t care about science. In fact, Viktor often doubted whether they had ever opened a quantum physics book in their lives.

The sound of Viktor's footsteps echoed softly on the deserted sidewalk. It was one of those quiet nights when the city lights seemed to dissolve into the horizon, and the stars began to shine brightly. The calmness centered him, pulling him away from daily worries. During these moments, he could reflect on his research progress but also on the purpose science gave him. Sometimes, when the air was fresh and clear, he allowed himself to think of something more personal.

The conversations from that day at the conference still lingered in his mind. Her. The journalist he had spoken to after his presentation. There was something about her that had unsettled him: her sharp curiosity, her direct way of asking questions, and, most of all, the way she wasn’t afraid to challenge him. That had left him pondering. After so many years in the academic and scientific world, it was rare for someone to go beyond technical topics and ask him something more personal. But she had done just that.

A sigh escaped his lips as he looked up at the starry sky. The stillness of the universe, the precision of planetary orbits—all of it seemed to have a purpose. But in his own life, everything was in constant flux. After the interview, she had asked him out. It had been unexpected, but Viktor couldn’t help feeling intrigued. The sensation of uncertainty and anticipation kept him on edge as he walked through the nearby park.

The sound of a message interrupted his thoughts. He pulled out his phone, still gazing at the stars, and saw a LinkedIn notification: a connection request from her. Something in his stomach flipped. What was she expecting from him? A deeper conversation, perhaps? It was a world of unknowns. Viktor wasn’t someone who let curiosity drive him, but there was something about this woman—something about her intellect—that kept him captivated.

One step at a time, he thought, as he accepted the request, not really knowing what to expect from it.

Three days later, in the cozy restaurant where they had agreed to meet, Viktor couldn’t stop rehearsing the words he had mentally prepared. This wasn’t the kind of social situation he excelled at; the conference had been easier, more technical. But now, sitting across from you, there was something that made him feel vulnerable. It wasn’t just his work at stake.

You arrived on time. He watched you as you walked through the restaurant door. The warm light from the lamps highlighted your face, but what immediately caught his attention was the way you walked: confident, yet with a seriousness that belied any facade of superficiality. He had seen you in your role as a journalist, but now, here, he couldn’t help but feel disoriented by your presence.

"Are you nervous?" you asked with a slight smile, noticing the small drops of sweat on his forehead.

"No, just... thoughtful," Viktor replied, more out of habit than sincerity.

The conversation began with that slight tug of awkwardness, something he had already anticipated.

You both took a seat, and after a few minutes of uncomfortable silence, you started asking him questions about his research, careful to use a tone that indicated you weren’t just interested in professional matters.

“Why did you choose biotechnology, Viktor? It’s not an easy or straightforward discipline.” It was the first time you addressed him informally, and it seemed to please him because you noticed his shoulders relaxed.

Viktor studied your face more closely. In your gaze, there wasn’t just curiosity but genuine interest. Finally, he could see that you weren’t merely seeking more information for your work but something more.

“It’s a way to try to surpass my own limits. Since I was a child, I’ve been obsessed with the idea that the human body can be improved, even when physical limitations seem insurmountable,” he said, his words tinged with vulnerability. He looked at you and felt satisfied seeing you listening intently. “At some point, I realized I wasn’t just trying to improve my body but others’ as well.”

You didn’t look at him as a distant scientist but as someone who had dedicated his life to a cause. The sincerity in his words struck you unexpectedly.

“But what happens when science becomes too big? When humanity is lost in the process?”

Viktor paused. That was the question he feared most, yet you had posed it with a disarming naturalness.

“That’s what I try to avoid,” he replied, almost in a whisper. “Science should serve humanity, not dominate it. But sometimes... the path forward is uncertain.”

At that moment, the air between you grew tense. Viktor’s universe, which until then had been filled with cold equations and formulas, seemed to crumble a little before you, as if everything he had built was only a reflection of his own insecurities.

The waiter brought the food, but neither of you seemed to notice.

“I’m surprised by how open you are about this. Most people with physical disabilities are quite reserved when it comes to their condition,” you said sincerely, trying to lighten the moment, though the seriousness of the conversation lingered.

“The truth is... no one’s ever asked me before,” he admitted, unable to suppress the faint smile that formed on his lips.

You continued to observe him, this time with more depth, more intensity.

“I think that’s what draws me to your work, Viktor. It’s not just the science; it’s the way you constantly question yourself. It’s as if you’re searching for something more than just solutions.” You were fascinated, and you weren’t afraid to show it.

There was a silence—the kind of silence that invites something more. Viktor pondered how to explain himself.

“The search for answers never ends. And sometimes... that’s all you have.”

You smiled, amused. Conversations with him were always unpredictable. You glanced around the room, noting the soft lighting, the dancing shadows on the walls, the distant murmur of other diners… It all faded when Viktor spoke. Every word that left his mouth seemed designed to disarm you, to subtly but directly pull you out of your comfort zone—a remarkable feat for a journalist like you.

“So, what drives you to follow this path?” you asked, your voice soft but loaded with genuine interest, studying every reaction Viktor gave. With each new sentence, you sought to challenge him, wanting more than his opinion—something beyond his scientific facade.

Viktor looked at you over his glass of wine, his gaze more cautious than he would have liked to admit. The way you were interested in his words was unusual. Most people saw his research as mere achievements or theories. But you saw him—the person, the man behind the genius.

“It’s not just about science,” Viktor replied, but his voice sounded less sure than he had hoped. Something in the air between you unsettled him. There was something in the way you looked at him, with an intensity that made him feel exposed. “It’s about changing the rules, about finding what... what others don’t see.”

You smiled, but not kindly. There was a glint of amusement in your eyes, playing a game only you seemed to know.

“And what do you see, Viktor?” you asked provocatively, your lips curving with mischief. It wasn’t just a simple question. Every word you spoke was a touch, a brush, something that pushed him to let you see more, to say more than he was willing to reveal.

Viktor felt trapped in your gaze but couldn’t look away. Something about you stirred the need to talk, to expose his vulnerability. The tension was palpable; each new interaction seemed like another step in an invisible dance.

“I see a world full of possibilities…” he replied, more by instinct than reflection. He was far from his scientific research, from the cold and calculated equations. Here, there were no formulas he could apply. It was just you and him—and a chemistry as tangible as the air surrounding you.

You let your eyes slowly glide over him as if evaluating every facet of his being, every word, every gesture. It was a silent analysis, one you didn’t bother hiding. Viktor could feel himself being drawn into your scrutiny.

“Is that all you see?” you whispered, leaning slightly closer to the table, keeping your eyes fixed on his, determined to unravel his mask of control. “I think there’s more, something you haven’t said.”

The air between you thickened. Viktor swallowed hard, feeling his heart beat faster than usual. You had hit the mark, and he wasn’t sure he wanted to continue this conversation—not with the way you were looking at him now, like a predator stalking its prey.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said, his voice lower than usual, though something in his eyes glimmered with more than doubt—there was something urging him to let go.

Without missing a beat, you picked up your wine glass and, in a motion so smooth it seemed casual, brought it to your lips, looking at him over the rim. You said nothing, but Viktor understood the silent invitation. The chemistry was there between you, dense and palpable. The brush of your lips, the way your fingers grazed the glass… Everything was a subtle provocation, a game neither of you was willing to lose.

Viktor leaned slightly forward, letting the distance between you shrink. His breath hitched for a moment, and when he spoke, his tone was low—so intimate it almost felt like a confession.

“I’m not a man who lets himself go…” he said, but his words didn’t convince even himself. He was caught in the current of what was happening, in the tension woven between your bodies.

“Are you sure?” You raised an eyebrow, your demeanor now a little more challenging. Your voice carried a subtle provocation but didn’t lose the softness that characterized your way of speaking.

You were a challenge, and Viktor, though he denied it, was more than willing to accept it—to accept you.

The conversation veered into more personal matters, and as it did, the words became softer, closer, as if the two of you were walking a fine line between professional and intimate. Viktor realized that every phrase that left your lips not only challenged him intellectually but also disarmed him emotionally.

Time flew by, and when dessert arrived, both of you knew the night was far from over. Viktor was restless, but in a way unfamiliar to him.

You, on the other hand, enjoyed your effect on him. It was so amusing to see how he held his breath when you 'accidentally' grazed his right leg with your heel under the table. The way the corners of his mouth trembled, creating a slight pout, as if silently asking for more. You found yourself in total surrender—if that man asked for the moon, you'd head to space to fetch it for him. But, of course, you wouldn't let him know that. Not yet.

At the end of the dinner, after talking about everything and nothing, Viktor leaned forward, looking at you with an expression that, for the first time that night, showed a mix of determination and something else... something unsettling.

"Would you like to come to my place?" he asked, his voice now firm, though tinged with a touch of uncertainty. There was something in his words that made him more vulnerable, as if he needed this connection, this closeness.

And you couldn’t help but feel the same.

"I’d love to," you replied, and your confirmation hit Viktor like a direct blow to the heart.

It was clear: the night had only just begun.

Viktor's house was exactly what you expected from him: minimalist, functional, almost austere in its decoration. Yet, there was something incredibly cozy about the way everything was arranged. The dim lighting, the soft classical music playing in the background, the faint aroma of incense that filled the air... Everything was meticulously designed to soothe, to find the balance he so clearly sought.

The atmosphere was perfect, but you couldn't help but feel that the air was heavy, charged with something more than just the fragrance of the incense. It was as if Viktor's home itself reflected the inner struggle he carried: orderly, precise, but so, so empty.

Viktor watched as your eyes scanned his home with a mix of curiosity and caution. In your gaze, there was something he couldn’t quite read—an air of control and, at the same time, total vulnerability. It was obvious he wasn’t used to showing his private life, but he said nothing.

As usual, you broke the silence first. You approached the living room table, lightly touching the polished wooden surface, your fingers brushing against the objects decorating it.

"You have an… interesting house," you commented in a tone that could be interpreted as sarcastic. You wanted to tease him.

Viktor glanced at you out of the corner of his eye, a slight hint of discomfort visible on his face.

"I don’t like distractions," he replied curtly, but the look he gave you was more complex. A hint of something hidden beneath the surface, something he wasn’t ready to share.

You didn’t bother to insist. Instead, you turned toward him, and before Viktor could react, you stepped forward, eagerly. Every step you took felt as if you were crossing an invisible boundary, challenging every rule Viktor had built for himself. You wanted to push him to his limits, to shatter his perfect facade, to strip him bare in both body and soul.

"I think distractions are necessary sometimes," you murmured slowly and sensually, your tone laden with subtext Viktor immediately recognized.

He stood frozen, unable to look away. Something in your voice disarmed him, something in your presence made him want to open up in a way he wasn’t accustomed to. And yet, he couldn’t resist it.

"And what kind of distraction do you have in mind?" His voice came out deeper than he had intended, with a hint of unease he couldn’t disguise.

Your tongue traced the edges of your lips slowly, not quite touching your lipstick, just teasing, just enough to draw his attention to your mouth. When you succeeded, you smirked wickedly.

Viktor swallowed hard, unconsciously licking his own lips, an involuntary, clumsy act that left him defenseless against you.

"How about a conversation without filters?" you suggested, your voice almost a whisper.

Your fingers moved closer to his chest, gently brushing the lapel of his jacket, exploring every inch of his form with your eyes before deciding whether to touch or not, like a soldier in unknown territory. Viktor swallowed with difficulty, feeling his body respond to that simple touch, that closeness he hadn’t anticipated.

You didn’t back away for a moment, keeping eye contact with him while your fingers still toyed with the fabric of his clothes. Viktor felt a weight in his chest, not just from the tension of the moment, but from the need to step away, to stop letting you control him this way. Yet, something in him didn’t want you to stop.

"What I want, Viktor..." you began, your voice a whisper charged with a confidence that unsettled him, "...is for you to show me who you really are. Not the genius everyone knows, not the scientific leader everyone respects. Just you. The man behind it all. Show me the real you."

Viktor took a deep breath, feeling those words cut deep. He had never allowed anyone to see him that way. He had never let anyone get this close. And yet, here you were, making him feel like it was impossible not to open up to you. Like it was impossible to deny the need to surrender, even for a moment, to something beyond science, beyond reason.

You moved even closer, your lips just a few centimeters from his. The distance was minimal but enough to make the tension between you almost unbearable. Your breaths mingled, and Viktor could feel the heat emanating from you, the palpable desire surrounding you both.

"And if I don’t want you to see that?" His voice was low but defiant, as if trying to protect himself from something he knew, deep down, he could no longer avoid.

You found yourself smiling again, but this time it wasn’t a playful smile. It was a smile of understanding because you had confirmed your suspicions.

Viktor was afraid of connecting with someone. Maybe he didn’t even know how to do it; maybe he never had and had always convinced himself he didn’t need to—that with his machines and equations, he would have enough.

"Then why am I here?" you asked, not moving back even a millimeter.

For a brief moment, Viktor felt trapped. He couldn’t lie, couldn’t keep his distance. Something inside him wanted to give in, wanted to feel vulnerable, for once, without the weight of perfection he imposed on himself.

"Because..." he began, but his words faded into the air when you pulled him toward you, your lips brushing lightly against his. It was a fleeting touch, so brief that Viktor barely had time to process it, but it left him trembling, gripping his cane tighter as he felt he might lose his balance.

You looked into his eyes, waiting for a reaction, any kind of response, some indicator, a confirmation, anything. Viktor stood there, motionless, but his thoughts were a whirlwind. The strength he had resisted with all night dissolved in that contact, and for the first time, he felt the raw, real desire to embrace vulnerability. To let go.

Without a word, Viktor kissed you. At first, it was slow, cautious, and clumsy, as if testing the waters, afraid of diving too quickly. But you weren’t interested in caution; you pulled him into you, craving more contact, more friction, more intimacy...

Your tongue made its way into his mouth, tracing his front teeth and laughing in his face when you heard him sigh in surprise. Your hands traveled to the back of his neck and you took complete control. You devoured him. You sucked and bit as you went. You ate up all his moans and swallowed him greedily.

When you separated, you both breathed heavily. Viktor, his mind clouded by desire, felt a strange sense of lightness. For a moment, the scientist in him had completely disappeared. You didn't waste his moment of confusion and pushed him onto the couch behind him. Viktor fell awkwardly and humiliatingly, his cane had fallen to the floor, and his long, weak legs were spread wide. His brown hair was messy, and his eyes were as wide as they were bright.

You smiled, he looked ready to be devoured. You took a step and raised your foot on the furniture, placing it right in front of Viktor's crotch. You bent your torso and appreciated his blush up close.

"Don't think about it too much, Viktor. Just... let yourself go. Let me take care of you. Can you do that?" you asked, taking him by his thin chin, he nodded slowly and shakily, like a lamb at the mercy of a wolf, and the truth is that metaphor was not so far from reality.

He's not used to relinquishing control, but in this moment, he finds himself craving it. Craving you. And you noticed it, you noticed his desire, his wish to lose himself in you, so you were going to give him your best. You wanted to make him feel good. Really good.

"Oh, aren't you a pretty boy?," you said, pressing the sharp tip of your heel into his cock. Viktor inhales sharply, his hips bucking instinctively into your touch, he was like a hungry puppy. A strangled moan escapes his lips, his eyes fluttering closed at the sudden surge of pleasure-pain. "So obedient and willing to help, to give his best, as always."

He flushes at your teasing words, a mix of embarrassment and arousal coloring his pale skin. Viktor's not used to being called sweet or pretty, least of all in a situation like this. But the way you say it, with that wicked gleam in your eyes and that smirk on your lips... it makes him want to be those things. For you.

Humming softly, he reaches up to cover your hand on his chin with his own, guiding it to his chest. His heartbeat is rapid and strong beneath your palm, a silent testament to his desire. "I am not... accustomed to such directness", he admits, his voice rough with need. "But I find myself appreciating it." Viktor's other hand comes to rest on your calf. It's a tentative touch, almost hesitant, but unmistakably eager.

His broken voice. His defeated expression. The way his hand caressed your leg, so sweet yet so hard. It was too much. You needed to please him as soon as possible.

"You're so cute," you had to bite your lip to keep from cursing, "Can I eat you?"

Viktor's eyes widen at your bold question, a wave of heat rushing to his cheeks and other more sensitive areas. He's not used to such crude, direct language, especially not from someone as cool and collected as you show to be. It catches him off guard and sets his heart racing.

As you kneels down in front of him, Viktor's breath hitches in his throat. He looks down at you, his amber eyes searching your face for any hint of jest or deception. But he finds none. Only a hunger that matches his own, a desire that makes his stomach flip and his mouth go dry.

Slowly, almost hesitantly, Viktor nods. His voice is barely above a whisper when he speaks, his words almost lost amidst the pounding of his own heartbeat. "I... I would like that. Very much," he swallows hard, his tongue darting out to wet his suddenly dry lips.

Viktor's hands come to rest on the couch beside him, gripping the fabric tightly. He's not sure what to do with himself, how to act in this new role of his. All he knows is that he wants you, wants your touch, wants your everything. And so, with a deep breath, he spreads his legs a little wider, a silent invitation.

"Can I take off your pants?" you knew you didn't need to ask, it was more than obvious that you both wanted to. But your goal was to enjoy this new facet of Viktor, you were liking this tender and submissive Viktor a little bit too much.

Viktor feels is heart pounding in his chest as he stares down at you kneeling before him. The sight sends a jolt of anticipation and arousal through his body, his cock throbbing almost painfully against the confines of his pants.

With a shaky nod, Viktor lifts his hips slightly, allowing you to slip your fingers under the waistband of his pants. His breath catches in his throat as you start to tug them down, inch by torturous inch. The cool air of the house hits his skin, making him shiver and his member twitch. Once his pants and underwear are off, Viktor sits bare before you, his legs splayed out and his arousal evident. He resists the urge to cover up, forcing himself to stay still and let you appreciate him. His cheeks burn with embarrassment and desire, his chest heaving with each ragged breath.

"You're even prettier down here," your compliment makes him choke on his saliva.

The way you look at him, with your eyes roaming hungrily over every inch of his exposed flesh... it makes him feel powerful. Desired. Needed. And Viktor has never felt needed.

He squirms slightly under your intense scrutiny, his cock jumping at the slightest brush of your fingertips against his thigh. Viktor's voice is low and rough when he speaks, his words laced with need. 

"I am glad you find me pleasing. I must admit, I have never been inspected quite so... thoroughly before," his lips twitch into a tentative smile, his eyes darkened with desire as they meet yours.

Well, that was a new side. A sassy and naughty one. And you loved it even more.

Slowly, almost hesitantly, Viktor reaches out to brush a stray lock of hair from your face, tucking it gently behind your ear. He was so sweet, you wanted to hug him and never let him go.

His fingers linger on your cheek, tracing the delicate curve of your jaw and the soft swell of your lower lip.

It was impossible for you not to smile with tenderness, you let your face rest on his thin hand. Then you looked him straight in the eyes, your desire to tease him never completely went away.

"It's so funny how you keep using your fancy talk despite being in this situation," you had to comment, and as expected, the blush returned to his cheeks. Adorable. "Here, take my hair."

Your request was very unexpected.

Viktor blinks in momentary confusion as you hands him your long hair, unsure of your intentions. But as your warm breath ghosts over his sensitive flesh, he quickly forgets his bewilderment, replaced by a surge of anticipation.

He takes the silky strands in his hand, marveling at the weight of them, the way they slip through his fingers. Viktor's heart races as you lean in, your lips parting to reveal the wet heat of your mouth.

And then, you takes him. All of him. Viktor's head falls back against the couch, a strangled moan tearing from his throat as your lips seal around his throbbing cock. The sensation is incredible, unlike anything he's ever felt before. Your tongue swirls around his length, exploring every ridge and vein with a curiosity that borders on reverence.

Viktor's grip tightens on your hair as he fights the urge to thrust into the wet heat of your mouth. He was so overwhelmed, so consumed by sensation. It's terrifying and exhilarating all at once.

His breath comes in short, sharp gasps as you works over his cock, your head bobbing up and down in a steady rhythm. Viktor's never been more grateful for his weakness, for the way his leg keeps him rooted to the spot, unable to move anything but his hips in shallow, aborted thrusts.

You looked at him without stopping sucking at any time, you were hungry for him. You loved seeing him so vulnerable and so pleased by you. In fact, you wanted to give him more pleasure, you wanted to take him to paradise and bring him back.

Viktor's eyes flutter open, hazy and unfocused as he stares down at you. The sight of you, so hungry and eager, your lips stretched around his throbbing flesh... was almost too much to bear. His breath comes in harsh, ragged pants as you continues your assault, your tongue and lips and the wet, sucking heat of your mouth pushing him closer and closer to the edge. Viktor's fingers tighten almost painfully in your hair, his hips jerking and stuttering as he fights the urge to lose himself completely.

Your eyes meet his, intense and filled with a passion that makes his heart race.

His balls draw up tight, his cock pulsing and throbbing as his climax approaches, and with a pathetic cry, Viktor comes undone, his release crashing over him like a tidal wave. His cock jerks and pulses as he spills himself into your eager mouth, his fingers tightening almost cruelly in your scalp as he rides out the aftershocks of his intense orgasm.

As the waves of pleasure start to subside, Viktor slowly comes back to himself, his breathing still ragged and uneven. It takes a moment for the reality of what just happened to sink in - he just came, hard and fast, in your mouth, and you just swallowed it.

Viktor was mortified. A deep, blotchy red spread across his pale skin, creeping down his neck and pooling at his collarbone. Each shaky breath he took only seemed to fan the flames of his embarrassment. His hands, usually steady when working on intricate mechanisms, now trembled as they gripped the edge of the couch. When he tried to pull away, mumbling apologies, you stopped him gently but firmly.

Your hand stayed where it was, warm and reassuring, keeping him grounded in the present moment. “No, Viktor,” you murmured softly, your voice calm and soothing, like a balm for his raw nerves.

“I… I’m so sorry,” he stammered, his voice rough and broken. He couldn’t bring himself to look at you, his golden eyes fixed somewhere far away, as though retreating into himself might erase what had just happened. “That was… incredibly inappropriate of me. I couldn’t control myself… I couldn’t…” His voice faltered, fading into a silence heavy with shame.

Without a word, you shifted closer, carefully settling onto his lap. Your presence made him tense at first, but as your warmth seeped into him, you felt his rigid posture begin to soften.

Viktor swallowed hard, his lips trembling as he tried to continue. “I feel so selfish,” he admitted in a hoarse whisper. “I couldn’t hold back… and I couldn’t… I couldn’t give you anything in return. I didn’t—” His words broke off, and he turned his head, as if hiding from you might shield him from his own insecurities. “I’m pathetic.”

Your heart ached at his confession. It wasn’t just his words—it was the weight they carried, the insecurities and self-doubt that had clearly plagued him for years. Without hesitation, you wrapped your arms around him, pulling him into a hug that was firm but full of tenderness, as if trying to hold all the broken pieces of him together.

Your fingers found their way to his messy hair, threading through the soft strands with care. You pressed a kiss to his forehead, lingering there for a moment before pulling back slightly to cradle his face in your hands. His cheeks were still flushed, and his expression was a mix of embarrassment and surprise, but he didn’t resist.

“Viktor,” you said gently, your tone low but filled with conviction. “Look at me.”

He hesitated, his golden eyes darting nervously before finally meeting yours. They were full of hesitation, as if he were bracing himself for judgment. But all he found in your gaze was warmth.

“Do I look like someone who’s disappointed?” you asked, a soft smile tugging at the corners of your lips. Before he could stammer out a response, you continued, your thumbs brushing lightly across his cheeks. “This was our first time trying something like this. It’s normal that it was so… intense. It’s a natural reaction, Viktor, and nothing to feel ashamed of.”

He blinked at you, his confusion evident, but you weren’t done yet. A playful glint sparkled in your eyes as you leaned in slightly closer. “And if I’m being honest,” you added, your voice dropping into a conspiratorial whisper, “I enjoyed every second of it. I’ve been fantasizing about moments like this since the day I met you.”

The way his eyes widened and his blush deepened was almost enough to make you laugh. But instead, you smiled softly, leaning in to brush your lips lightly against his ear. “Besides,” you whispered, your tone teasing but full of affection, “this is only the beginning, pretty boy. We’ve got plenty of time for moments like this.”

His breath hitched at the nickname, and for a moment, he looked completely disarmed. He nodded slowly, his embarrassment still evident, but there was a flicker of trust in his gaze now.

It was then that you noticed the exhaustion etched into his features—the dark circles under his eyes, the slump of his shoulders. It was obvious that he had been working tirelessly, likely pushing himself past his limits, as he always did and confessed to you. And now, after everything that had just happened, the tiredness seemed to weigh on him even more.

“Do you want to cuddle tonight?” you asked casually, though your tone was laced with affection. You already knew the answer. He was exhausted, both physically and emotionally, and he needed rest.

Viktor looked at you, his expression softening into something that resembled gratitude. “Yes… please,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper.

Without another word, you guided him to lie down with you, pulling him close until his head rested against your chest. His arms hesitated at first before wrapping around your waist tentatively, and you could feel the tension slowly melting away from his body.

As you ran your fingers through his hair and whispered soft reassurances, you felt his breathing slow, syncing with yours. He sighed softly, his entire body relaxing in your embrace. In that quiet, intimate moment, you felt a wave of protectiveness wash over you.

Holding him like this, you silently promised yourself that you would always be there for him. To remind him that he didn’t have to face his insecurities alone, that he didn’t have to be perfect to be loved. He was enough—just as he was. And as he drifted off to sleep, you knew he felt it too.

The first rays of dawn began to filter through the windows of Viktor's home. The atmosphere, which had been warm and charged with intensity, was now tinged with a calmer, more reflective silence.

Both of you lay together on the sofa, your bodies entwined and your breaths synchronized. Viktor rested against you, his face buried in your hair, his fingers tracing abstract patterns along your back as if trying to memorize every detail of this moment.

"I never thought..." he began, his voice barely above a whisper.

You lifted your head to look at him, the light in his eyes still a mix of disbelief and tenderness.

"Never thought what?" you asked softly, your fingers brushing against his jawline.

"I never thought I’d need this as much as I do now." His confession was simple yet heavy with meaning. His barriers had fallen, at least with you, and you both understood the weight of that.

You smiled, feeling how deeply those words resonated within you. There was something profoundly beautiful about seeing someone like Viktor—so used to solitude and sacrifice—allow himself this kind of vulnerability.

"We all need something, Viktor. Even you." Your tone was gentle but firm, making it clear you wouldn’t let him retreat behind his mask of self-reliance again.

Viktor nodded but said nothing more. Instead, he leaned down and pressed a kiss to your forehead, his lips warm and steady. It was a simple gesture but full of quiet affection, a language you were both beginning to understand.

As the hours passed, you talked about mundane and profound things, from his advancements to favorite books. The walls of Viktor’s home, which had once felt so empty, now carried an unexpected warmth—a spark neither of you was willing to extinguish.

Before you left, Viktor reached for your hand, his grip gentle but firm.

"I don’t know how to fit this into my life… with you," he admitted. His words were sincere, almost fearful, but his gaze said something else: he wanted to try, and for the first time, he was willing to open that door.

You looked at him, and with a calm smile, you squeezed his hand.

"You don’t have to figure it all out right now. Just… don’t close the door before seeing what’s on the other side."

And with that, you left his house, though not without one last look that spoke more than words ever could.

[kneecapandribcageinverter]

I hoisted my shotgun.

"What's that your son said, way back when? "This is my body, broken for you?" Well, rations are running low, and I'm gonna be honest, I kinda miss the taste of bread. But wait, maybe it's lamb? He is called the "lamb of god." But he's also called a shepherd. And your blood is wine. Or at least your kid's was. But I figure the apple doesn't fall far from the tree... that reminds me, I miss apples. I've been eating bugs that I suspect are an alien invasive species from hell and long-pig that might have also been posessed for God- that's you- God knows how long. Mostly I got a hankering for revenge, on account of you ending the world and all. Yeah the devil's a jerk and all but you're the one with the seven seals and the fire breathing olive trees and- and the horses. And the men ON the horses. That Apollyon fucker did a drive by shooting that gave me the flu while his friend ransacked my pantry and took... uh, a specific percentage of the bugs I collected. I've been reading your book and those guys are 100% yours. I think. You know I can't tell what's real and what's fake anymore. Like I'm seeing people I killed, which ought to be textbook guilt driven hallucinations but I'm 40% sure there's a line in your book about how the dead are gonna walk the earth or something so I dunno. Anyway, where was I? Oh right I'm in a church! I was hoping to find you here, being the "house of god" and all. I mean you have a lot of houses. How many vacation homes do you even need? This is a horrible house by the way, where do you even sleep? Anyway I came here because hey, "god is in all his churches," so I decided to come here and kill you because free meat! Ahahahaha, God, I'm coming! I'm going to find you, I'm going to kill you, and I'm going to eat you! Meat! Free meat!"

I laughed, looking up at where God was trapped between metal bars. He didn't respond. Just stare down at me, silent, judging, making that same hand symbol He's always made.

"Don't you throw gang signs at me!" I said, hoisting my gun and poinging it at God's luminous face in the heavens before me. God shattered into countless shards of colorful glass without even a dying whisper. "Ahahaha! God's flesh! Mine all mine!" I scooped up piles of it off the ground and shoveled it into my face. Crunchy, crunchy. Even though the pieces of Him didn't bleed when shot, or on the floor, my mouth was filled with delicious blood. So what if it hurt? It must have been His attempt to smite me. Won't do Him any good any more.

I eat the body of the Lord until my vision fades, and I fall asleep. It feels so good to sleep on a full stomach for once. At last, god is dead. At last I am full. At last I can rest easy.

And if God is dead, that means... maybe tomorrow, the apocalypse will be cancelled. Maybe... tomorrow, I will wake up in a better place.

My eyes close.

You have survived the rapture for 4 years killing anyone to survive but one day you find God caged in an abandoned church

[kiemiu]

𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐣𝐨𝐜𝐤!𝐜𝐡𝐫𝐢𝐬 𝐟𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐧𝐞𝐫𝐝!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 . . .

jock!chris who can't help but stare. Sharing a class with you, let alone his favorite one, was something Chris looked forward to. It was motivation for him to get out of bed, even if he'd just end up staring at the side of your face for the entire period. Always taking notice of the new hairstyle you're trying out, or a new sweater you've never worn before, he even notices when you've gotten new frames for your glasses. He's entirely absorbed by your presence even when you don't pay him any mind. But when you do start to feel his piercing stare and you look his way, it always catches him off guard. Sometimes he'll wave, other times he'll look away as fast as possible, nearly giving himself whiplash. He'll sink down in his chair out of embarrassment whenever the teacher calls out his unfocused gaze. "Chris, am I teaching or is Miss Y/n? Because you haven't looked my way since you've sat down." If you ever pointed it out to him he only responds by saying "I can't help it! You're impossible to ignore."

jock!chris who awkwardly compliments you. Chris is confident and very self-assured, yet anytime he crosses paths with you he starts to feel like a little boy with his first elementary school crush again. Sometimes he'll stumble over his words, he can barely look you in the eye, and he's always fiddling with his hands. He can't stop himself from shoving his hands in his pockets or running his fingers through his hair, and if you're sitting down at a table he'll constantly drum his fingers against it until you ask him to stop. He doesn't understand how or why you have this effect on him, but it's so addicting and he can't help but crave you more and more each day.

jock!chris who'll defend you tooth and nail. When his jock friends and old party girl hookups that hang around his friend group start to notice him walking with you around campus, they start to tease him relentlessly. They'll say things like "Ooh, trying to get smarter by association by hanging out with that loser?", "Didn't know chunky sweaters and thick glasses were your type. You usually like your women half-naked.", and "Please, tell me you're not sleeping with that geek and you're just her month-long tour guide or something." Chris will genuinely become upset at the things they say about you and will argue tooth and nail, always defending you while simultaneously denying his feelings for you. His friends think it's funny how sensitive he can be over you, which only increases their teasing more much to Chris's dismay.

jock!chris who tries his hardest to impress you. He'll look up youtube tutorials of origami the night before your next class together and practice all throughout the night so he can do one in the middle of class and gift it to you. Instead of bringing one to class already premade, he thinks you'll be more impressed if he did it on the spot, which is why he memorized the steps despite it taking him all night to do so. Despite the lack of sleep he got and the growing bags under his eyes, the wide smile on your face made all of his hard work worth it. Now he does anything he can to see that smile on your face again. He randomly brings up fun facts about your favorite interests ( things you already know but feel too bad to say so because he genuinely looks happy that he learned something about you ), carrying around a book that he saw you recently read and pretend to read it in front of you, ( you know he's not reading it because he keeps looking at you every 5 seconds and the book is upside down ), opening bags of candy or twisting the cap off of your water bottle for you when it's too tight, and other minuscule things that he hopes you take notice of.

jock!chris who invites you to his games. He asks you if you've ever been to any school sports games and when you say 'No' he finds a way to slip an invitation to his upcoming games in every conversation. Your excuses pile up until you eventually end up running out of them and just give into his pleas. He'll be so happy when you finally accept his invitation and it shows in his performance. At practice he barely shows any signs of being tired, he's more hype than usual, and the smile on his face won't wipe off no matter what. On game day you're the very first person he looks for in the stands, refusing to focus on anything or anyone else until he sees you in the crowd. He starts to get a bit discouraged when he still doesn't spot you after the first few minutes of the game has already started, but after another play of chasing the ball, he'll turn his head back to the stands for the hundredth time that night and spot you walking down the steps of the bleachers to get a closer view, adorned in school colors like they were made for you. He waves at you as soon as he spots you, ignoring his coaches yells for him to focus. You'd wave back, slightly embarrassed at the amount of attention he attracted your way but still holding a smile on your face.

jock!chris who is now glued to you. Now that you've showed up to support him, he's stuck to your side. He starts walking you to your other classes, meeting up with you for lunch, ditching frat parties to accompany you to the library or a local cafe, and a lot more. He sends you memes on a daily basis, and sometimes a random pic of him at practice, encouraging you to send pics of yourself as well, even if you're just at the library studying or just woke up from a nap. He's practically glued to his phone when he's away from you, always waiting for the next notification from you, and smiling like a kid in a candy store when he receives it.

jock!chris who starts doing things for you without you having to ask. He's always done simple acts of service like open doors for you and other gentlemanly acts that his mom and dad taught him growing up, but as the two of you get closer, those actions become more prevalent. He'll wait for you when you have to tie your shoes, he'll carry your books for you, he'll stop by a cafe and get you something to drink, he fixes the collar of your jackets, and every now and then he'll adjust the frame of your glasses on the bridge of your nose. Things he doesn't even do for friends he's known for years he'll do for you, he just can't help but dote on you.

jock!chris who starts sitting next to you in class. Once you stop pushing him away and practically ignoring his presence, he takes it a step further by starting a routine of catching up to you on your way to class and sitting next to you. He'll poke you with his pencil when you're taking notes, he'll rip off pieces of paper from his notebook and write down random things like 'you look pretty' 'can i see your notes after class pls pls pls' and 'lunch later? my treat :)'. He also likes to subtly have one of his body parts touching yours, even if it's just his elbow grazing yours or your knee leaning against his, it all drives him crazy and he craves those interactions desperately.

jock!chris who secretly writes poems about you. Only time he's writing in his notebook during class is when he's admiring your features and wants to implement your perfections onto paper. It drives him crazy sometimes on how much you stick in his mind, he'll think about you at practice, in his other classes, at lunch, and even at parties that are thrown in his frat. Multiple delicate pieces of paper crumbled into the drawer of his nightstand, all about the same muse. In his solitude and the confines of his room, his imagination runs wild, and his words of affirmation are endless.

jock!chris who has never had to work for his feelings to be reciprocated but is prepared to for you.

jock!chris + nerd!reader masterlist | wc: 1.4k

' 𝒕𝒂𝒈𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕 ' 🌱: @emely9274 @ginswife @chrisstvrns @conspiracy-ash @lovetaylorrussellgrr @nervoussagittarius @sacaydia @chrissturnsss @hearts4werka @chrisprincesss @koilaniazul @starsforu @sturn777 @sturniolosiphone @chrissweetheart @sturnsmia @leaningoutthewindow @certainfestivalnerdshepherd @dominicfikeenthusiast @st4rcs

[nachrosas]

NEW YEAR'S BABY | s.reid x reader

summary: in which you use new year's countdown to tell spencer exciting news. pairing: spencer reid x reader content warnings: none, just pure fluff! word count: 991 a/n: night, night! we can count this as the "first" part of my dad!spencer universe!! i had fun writing this one and i really hope you guys like it! feedback is always appreciated! also, my inbox is always open to chat! till the next one!

The lights in the apartment were soft, casting a golden glow that reflected off the champagne glasses on the coffee table. The music in the background was lively, drowned out by the laughter and chatter of the BAU members and their families gathered to celebrate the end of the year. You were standing by the window, watching the city light up outside, with the sound of sporadic fireworks beginning to fill the air.

The room was full of murmurs and laughter, but your attention was completely focused on him. Spencer was sitting in an armchair next to the bookcase, his fingers adjusting the strands of hair that stubbornly fell over his face while his eyes scrolled down the page of a book he had picked up earlier. It was at moments like that that you loved watching him - he seemed so absorbed in the story, so characteristically himself.

The year had been anything but easy. Memories of old cases and personal moments unfolded in his mind like a movie, bringing flashbacks of challenges, and tears, but also of small miracles. You had leaned on each other in ways you hadn't thought possible before. And the news that changed everything came in the last minutes of the second half as you lovingly joked with your doctor.

You instinctively put your hand to your still flat belly, almost in a protective gesture. The idea of a new beginning for the two of you, or rather the three of you, seemed both exciting and frightening. You had been planning this moment for weeks, but now, seeing you there, the golden light of the lamp softening your features, it seemed more than perfect.

“Are you okay?” Spencer asked suddenly, leaning slightly under your side, the concern evident in his eyes. You didn't even notice when he got up from his chair and approached you.

You smiled, almost laughing at how he always seemed to know when something was on your mind. “I am. I was just… thinking about how different this year has been.”

He moved a lock of your hair carefully behind your ear, his attention now entirely on you. “It was. But I think we ended better than we started, don't you?”

You nodded, feeling the heat rise in your chest. “Yes. And I think next year is going to be even more special.”

Spencer smiled, slightly confused by your words, but before he could ask, the sound of voices in the background began to increase. The countdown was about to begin. You felt your heart racing. It was almost time to tell him.

The room fell silent for a brief moment before everyone started shouting together:

“10!”

Your heart raced, a mixture of anticipation and anxiety coursing through your body. You moved even closer to Spencer, getting so close that you could feel the warmth of his presence, but the nervousness made it seem like there was a chasm between the two of you.

“9!”

You looked at him. Spencer had a discreet smile on his face as he observed his friends and the joy around him. He seemed so calm, so oblivious to the turmoil inside you and the news that was to come.

“8!”

You took a deep breath, trying to calm your heart, which seemed about to explode — and was failing miserably. Your mind was racing in circles. Is this the right time? Will he be happy? What if I ruin our whole relationship?

“7!”

He turned his face towards you, his brown eyes meeting yours. “You look nervous.” he commented softly, leaning in to be heard.

“6!”

“Maybe I am a little.” you admitted, trying to smile, but your voice came out shakier than you expected.

“5!”

Spencer frowned slightly, clearly worried, but before he could say anything else, you grabbed his hand.

“4!”

He looked at your intertwined hands, then turned his attention back to you, his lips curving into a small smile, as if to say that he was there for anything.

“3!”

You knew there was no turning back. The words were on the tip of your tongue, your heart beating so fast that it seemed to mark every remaining second.

“2!”

You leaned closer to him, the noise around you dissolving as everything seemed to dwindle to that moment between the two of you.

“1!”

With a hesitant smile and eyes full of tears you couldn't hold back, you whispered: “I'm pregnant!”

Spencer blinked once, twice, even three times, as if he needed a moment more to process what you had just said. You watched every detail: the way his eyes widened slightly, the way he moistened his lips before opening his mouth, but without being able to say anything right away. 

The sound of the fireworks outside exploded in a spectacle of colors, and the shouts of “Happy New Year!” echoed around the room. But in the space between you, there was only silence.

Then, slowly, the corners of your mouth began to curve upwards, and a genuine smile, so pure and full of emotion, took over your face. His eyes sparkled as if they were reflecting the lights of the fireworks, but you knew it was something more.

He returned a low, almost incredulous laugh, before shaking his head as if still trying to believe it. “That's incredible!” he murmured, his voice low and full of emotion. He took a step forward, his hands hesitantly reaching for yours, holding them carefully. “The best start to the year I could have imagined.”

The lump in your throat finally broke, and you felt the tears run down your cheeks as you smiled at him. Spencer pulled you into a tight hug, burying his face between your neck and shoulder as if he wanted to record that moment forever.

“I love you.” he whispered, and in that instant, as the world celebrated the new year around you, you knew you had made the perfect choice.

[mxnhoo]

taste (y. jw)

✎ yang jungwon x reader synopsis you and Jungwon were drinking together, until you impulsively recommended to play spicy drinking games. he eventually agreed with your idea, and from there on you could discover something that he's been hiding from you and you decide to make it come true. genre drinking together, reader has supposedly bad drinking tolerance but actually lasted the entire way, drinking game, jungwon respects boundaries (as he should) but reader likes to push it, jungwon is shy when getting onto the spicy topics unlike reader who's bold, Hershey's chocolate syrup, teasing, not proofread warnings spicy drinking game/spicy question(s), VERY ALMOST smut (read at your own caution), very suggestive, food related (smudging on areas on the body to clean up), vivid description of licking, hickies word count 1.4k cly's note honestly writing suggestive/almost smut fics are lowkey out of my comfort zone but i wanted to give yall another one after seeing how much support dangerous got. if i wasn't so awkward with this topic, jungwon would've been more bold and confident LOL. don't think i wrote this as well as dangerous but hope yall enjoy this too!

As you finished taking a shot, you immediately gulped down the liquid in an attempt to reduce the effects that the alcohol has on you. You sighed as you felt the burning sensation in your throat, your face tensing up as you slowly felt the sensation disappear. Jungwon chuckled as he held up the alcohol bottle and poured you another shot. As the sensation in your throat fully died off, you quickly cleared your throat, "I'm done".

He gave you an approving hum and smile as he patted your back, knowing that you weren't such a good drinker unlike him. You sat back on your chair, letting your head hang over the edge as you stared into the ceiling. The room was dimly lit up by a warm light, the walls and ceiling looking more of a dark orange.

You could almost tell that feeling in your stomach was coming — y'know, that feeling when you drink a lot of alcohol. Your head was starting to feel light and as your heart starts to race, you suddenly feel like you want to do a lot of things.

"Hey!" you called out, and Jungwon's eyebrows raised, anticipating to what you were going to say next. "Drinking game, let's play," you suggested.

And that was exactly how you got even more wasted. You were panting as you felt your head spin, almost feeling like you were going to pass out. Jungwon laughed as he watched you in your drunken state, folding his arms and relaxing back on his chair, "Are you sure you can continue? I can bring you to bed now if you want".

"No!" you slammed your shot glass down onto the table, determined to prove that you could drink more, even if your boyfriend already knew damn well that you were already pass your limit. "I.. can do thiss," you mumbled, your speech already starting to slur from the alcohol.

"Y'know what?!" you exclaimed, standing up from your chair and slightly startling Jungwon and you looked at him with determined eyes, "Spicy. Let's play spicy".

Jungwon's eyes were slightly widened as he realised what you were asking for. You wanted to play spicy drinking games, and his mind has run wild, the number of things he wants to do being unlimited. His face slightly burns up at the idea and he shook his head.

"I'd love to, but-" "Wonnie!" "You're drunk, Y/N."

You pouted. "So what?!" He ran his fingers throug his hair, feeling slightly agitated. "I don't want to take advantage of that!"

You looked at him with half-lidded eyes, "I don't care. Do it".

He bit his lip, and if you were sober enough, you can physically see him lose control from the way his brows furrow and how he exhaled audibly. He was losing it. He wanted to respect boundaries, and you were tempting him.

He spoke, his voice deep. "Who was your best kiss? Me or yor ex?". You chuckled, your eyelids barely opened as you pointed at him without hesitation. "You, duh". You've slightly sobered up already since all you've been doing is answering his questions honestly, avoiding any shots.

He nodded his head in approval, trying his best to compose yourself until you continued talking. "I fucking love the way your lips ruin me whenever—".

Jungwon, with his reddened ears, covered your mouth which silenced you. You giggled as his mouth prevented you from talking, and you could hear him sigh. Though he agreed to play your spicy "Truth or Drink" game, he still wanted to respect the boundaries, but you were forcing him to push it, his self-control slowly slipping away.

He sighed as he slowly released your mouth, watching you as he slowly leaned back. "It's your turn," he furrowed his eyebrows upwards, feeling slightly shy as to what you might ask him. You've always found him adorable that he was always shy at these topics even when you and him have already done a lot.

You decided to shoot a question, "Do you have any fantasies I don't know about?".

He seemed to ponder for a second, his eyes looking empty and him pursing his lips, and just as soon as he picked up his shot glass and was about to gulp it down, you grabbed his wrist to prevent it from moving.

Your eyes were dark and determined. "What is it?" your tone sounding open, yet demanding. The tension in the air suddenly grew, the silence becoming more unbearable as you two stared into each other's eyes. He grew more nervous, gulping and pursing his lips as you could see him decide if he should tell you or not.

"It's okay, baby," you comforted him, encouraging him to be more open.

"Food" he quicky muttered. "What?" "I said food."

You looked at his face and you could tell his face was completely red, and you knew it wasn't from the alcohol. He bit his lip and furrowed his eyebrows, feeling sheepish that he finally admitted something he'd been hiding.

"What about it?" "The thought of you smearing food on your naked body for me to clean up with my mouth is just.."

His whole face was a bright shade of red and he broke eye contact, afraid to see what kind of facial expression you're making to his confession. You lifted his chin up with your finger, "Let's do it".

There were two differences that were made. One being that you were now shifted into your room from the living room since Jungwon offered to carry you with his trustworthy strength and arms, and second being that you were completely bare. You hugged your legs as the cold air hit your body, waiting for Jungwon to return until you heard the door slowly creak open.

Jungwon appeared, holding the Hershey's syrup bottle you stored in your refrigerator, and at the the bare sight of you, his breath hitched. He gulped as he walked towards you, being conscious of the way you were w him wtching with pedatory gaze.

He gulped as he climbed onto the bed, his knees pressing onto the sheets, staring at you, having a flustered expression take over his facial features. No, this wasn't his first rodeo with you, but it was his first with his most hidden fantasy.

He slowly handed you over the syrup bottle, your fingers brushing his for a moment and without a moment of hesitation, you immediately started to squeeze out the syrup onto different parts of your body — your knees, outer thighs, stomach, collarbone, neck.

His eyes widened as he took in the sight of you being fully covered in syrup. His heart skipped a beat as he took a few seconds to scan your entire body up and down. He licked his lips and he slowly started to climb over you, eyeing the first spot that he wanted to clean up first — your knees.

His tip of his tongue flicked against your knee, the temperature difference between his tongue and your skin making you shiver. His muscle immediately started to clean you up, using various movements such as long strikes or short kitten licks. He quickly cleaned up the syrup on your knee and he started to progress to the other areas such as your outer thigh.

He sucked the skin along the way, leaving light hickies that were bright red. He slowly pushed you down on the bed as he hovered over you, a shadow forming over you, next cleaning up your stomach. You watched how his eyes fluttered close and how he took his own time to clean you up.

"Teasing me aren't you?" he mumbled as he was in the midst of cleaning up your stomach, taking a quick second to look at you. You smirked, knowing exactly what he'd meant. You'd purposefully avoided all the core parts as you wanted to leave it last.

"Be patient, will you?" you shot, enjoying how he whines and just continues.

He'd just finished cleaning up your collarbone and neck, and without taking a break, you immediately started to pour the syrup out to areas where he'd been anticipating to the most. His jaw had dropped at the breath-taking sight of you, almost believing that he was dreaming.

"How about, we start here?" you challenged as you poured the syrup on your lips, his eyes watching the syrup as it lands on your mouth and drips down your chin.

extra note GRHAUDEWFN I FEEL SO SHY THAT I WROTE THIS. OH MY GOD. okay. i hope you guys enjoyed this. I HOPE THIS WASNT TOO CRINGE THIS IS LOWK MY FIRST SMUT FIC. im gunna sleep this away GOODNIGHT.

[archangeldyke-all]

Roach verse idea:

So Sevika needed a raise. Silco needed a Santa for The Last Drop and Jinx.

The solution was obvious.

Now she’s in a hot ass suit, Roach is watching her from the bar whilst Jinx is just side-eyeing her all like ‘I KNOW ITS YOU’ like. Then with a lot of convincing, Jinx tells Santavika what she wants for Christmas.

Now Silco has his list of items and Sevika gets a raise to spoil her wonderful, lovely, beautiful girlfriend. All is well.

fucking hilarious

men and minors dni

all she fucking wanted was a winter bonus.

ever since you came around, the last drop has been getting increasingly festive with each holiday that passes. it's just the kind of person you are, everywhere you go you make people happy. this year, you even managed to convince silco to have a christmas party-- shutting the bar down and decorating it for the evening; a gift exchange planned and cookies baked for the gang.

sevika adores you for it, and for a million other reasons. and she wants to spoil you endlessly. but silco pays like shit, and jinx is always stealing sevika's pocket change before she can stash it in her change jar.

so, she asked for a bonus to close out the year.

she'd say she deserves it. this year alone, she put three competing shimmer operations out of business, managed to rig two piltover elections, and she killed like eight people for silco. or was it nine...?

either fucking way-- sevika's determined to get her money.

unfortunately for her, silco's in his own holiday predicament.

jinx, almost eleven now, has become increasingly suspicious of santa claus. it's not that the girl ever really believed-- but now that she's a sweaty, hormonal tween, she no longer feels comfortable sitting on some old man's lap and whispering all her secret wants in his ear. so, she refused to go to the promenade with silco this year to see santa.

so silco has no idea what to get his daughter for the holiday-- and he's desperate for a clue.

which is how sevika finds herself here, in an itchy white beard and a red suit, glaring at the gang as they laugh at her from her perch in her 'santa seat.'

she's gonna fucking kill silco. after he pays her, too.

"where's that jolly smile, mr. claus?" lock asks, approaching sevika with a grin. she glares up at him.

"i'm not letting you sit in my fuckin' lap."

"relax." lock laughs. he reveals a glass of whiskey from behind his back. sevika sighs in relief, taking the drink from lock. "where's your mrs. claus?"

"upstairs with jinx. the kid's dressing as a christmas tree, or something."

lock cackles.

you and jinx join the party eventually, jinx covered in green tinsel, ornaments braided into her hair. you burst into laughter at the sight of sevika, and she sighs.

"look at you, baby!" you laugh.

sevika grunts. "come sit on my lap before i die of humiliation."

you giggle, happily skipping over to her to wrap your arms around her shoulders. "how'd silco talk you into this?"

"i'm getting a winter bonus." she says. you scoff.

"what the fuck? where's my winter bonus?"

sevika chuckles. "baby, i'm spending the bonus on you."

"well what am i gonna spend on you?!"

sevika darts forward to kiss you, forgetting the beard she's wearing. you both groan and sputter, spitting white hairs out of your mouths.

"alright, santa baby. you stay here. i'll go get us some drinks and send jinx over."

sevika rolls her eyes. "this whole thing is fucking ridiculous. you have to know what she wants, why don't you just tell silco?"

"'course i do, but i also think this whole thing is the funniest thing that's happened this year and it's tradition."

sevika tries her best to act annoyed, but she can't keep from smiling when you shoot her a wink and blow her a kiss as you walk away.

jinx is glaring at sevika the entire time she's in her lap.

"this is fucking stupid." she mumbles. sevika chuckles.

"you're not the one wearing the fake beard. just hurry up and make your old man happy so we can get this night over with."

"fine. this year i want an updated encyclopedia set, a new microscope, and i wanna be able to say 'fuck' around silco." she lists off.

sevika cackles. "alright. i'll see what i can do, kid."

jinx chuckles and tugs on sevika's beard. "thanks old man." she mutters. "aren't you gonna 'ho ho ho?'"

sevika glares at jinx and the girl cackles, scrambling out of her lap before she can grab her.

just as she's about to get up and take off this ridiclious fucking costume, you plop back down in her lap, wearing a new outfit.

sevika's heart soars.

you're wearing a matching santa hat and a little red apron with fuzzy white lining. you're the perfect mrs. clause, and you've brought her whiskey.

"please help me get this beard off so i can kiss you." she whines. you laugh, reaching up to pull the fake beard off her chin. sevika sighs in relief, itching her face before reaching forward and downing her whiskey.

"better?" you ask.

sevika just smiles at you, putting her glass to the side so she can pull you in for a kiss with both hands.

you groan against her lips, flinging your arms around her shoulders and moving to straddle her legs.

across the bar, silco shrieks; scandalized. "you're supposed to sit in santa's lap, not grind on it!"

ran, lock, and deckard erput into cheers at the sight of you two.

jinx ducks behind the bar to grab a glass of ice water to toss on the pair of you.

taglist!

@fyeahnix @lavendersgirl @half-of-a-gay @thesevi0lentdelights @sexysapphicshopowner

@kissyslut @chuucanchuucan @badbye666 @femme-historian @lia-winther

@lavenderbabu @emiliabby @sevikasbeloved @hellorai @my-taintedheart

@glass-apothecary @macaroni676 @artinvain @k3n-dyll @sevsdollette

@ellieslob @xayn-xd @keikuahh @maneskinwh0re @raphaellearp

@iamastar @sevikitty @mascdom @nhaaauyen @annesunshiner

@mirconreadzztuff22 @veoomvroom @lushh-s3vik4s @katyawooga @lesbodietcoke

@strawberrykidneystone @sevikasfan @fict1onallyobsessed @dvrkhcld @sweetybuzz25

@sluttysierraaa @snake-in-a-flower-crown @ruiwonderz @littlemisszaunite @biblicalcrybaby

@blackgaladriel

[nymphea0]

Monster And His Love

Yan! Leon winston x reader

Oneshot Story (Special Side story)

(Warning : Some Death threat, Some Mature Scene in the end!)

(Minor are prohidited to read this story🚫 )

Main story of : Monster And His Love

Manhwa : Try Begging

: Adult Manhwa (19+)

Author: Libenia | 리베냐

Artist: ABYSS

Word Count ; 1k word

So because many of you asked about Leon's story, so this is a special chapter that I made. This is shows how rough and significant your future with leons is. so use a lot of your imagination my dear, every ending is yours to determine whether it is a happy ending or not. For my one of dear, i promise to update on New years eve, but guess not, but dont worry, in New years Eve i will update some special oneshot story, my dears.. do you all like Older Chara? Like for example Nanami or like peter killer? Some older man? (^3^) anyways.. much of love- Neva🦋

Might have some bad grammars, correct me if there are any mistakes in the words in the story I wrote. Anyways i hope you all enjoys my story, much love.- Neva🦋

.

.

.

Leon Winston, Who doesn't know that man? Brilliant achievements, famous among the soldiers and also the noble faction.

A handsome man who no one knows how much of a devil he is. Maybe there is only 1 person... his wife. That person is none other than you.

It has been more than 6 years that you have lived with a man, whom you call a devil, a crazy and cruel devil. 6 years you have faced hell by getting pregnant with his child. You have tried everything to escape from Leon, with the child you are carrying, but like a hunted deer, you are trapped. Can't run or even escape.

No.. this story is different from what you think, this is your story, your story in trying to tame the devil, for 6 years.. the effort was not in vain, maybe you could say.. you regret even doing that. Because Leon... is increasingly captivated.. and obsessed with you.

Fareadith Sophia Winston.. your first child with Leon, unfortunately she has Leon's hair color but with your amethyst eyes. You feel like crying every time you see her, you will remember Leon.

What surprised you .. Leon really loves Sophia, the reason is enough to make your soul tremble .. with burning intensity Leon said right in front of your face at that time.

"You ask, why do I like Sophia so much?"

Leon approached you slowly, pulling your chin, making you look directly into his eyes.

"Sophia reminds me of you my dear, she has the same eyes as you my wife .. my love, if she didn't look like you, I would definitely ... kill that child"

You really want to scream, curse and torture the man who is grinning like a devil in front of you.

.

'31 - xx - 1xxx'

At a beautiful glamorous party, attended by many rich families, a gathering of aristocrats.

One of them is, you and Leon. Even when you and Leon have changed identities in this country, Leon still insists on being a person with unlimited money.

Standing beside Leon who was busy talking to the coal entrepreneur. His right hand was holding a wine glass, while his left hand was hugging your waist affectionately. Maybe that's what people think, too bad, Leon did embrace you.. but also kept you in place so you don't wander off.

Being a good and obedient wife. Do you regret knowing Leon? Of course, you curse your father who took you to Count Winston's residence, maybe if you refused, this misfortune would not be directed at you, but at someone else, Riddle Grace for example, the girl at the summer resort that you accidentally met playing with Leon

The girl with Turquoise eyes, who Leon always called Daisy. Well, but the rice has become porridge, your fate may be more terrible than Riddle Grace.

.

.

.

After the party, Leon forced you into his car, you sat quietly, very different from your husband who was busy focusing on the road.

His grip on the steering wheel was so tight, you? Sighing softly, damn, your hell will come soon. You really hoped the cooling ointment you bought at the local doctor would at least help heal the abrasions.

"How many men have you seduced tonight?!"

Leon may have his eyes on the road ahead, but his hands? His hands were tightly gripping your thighs, squeezing them with a mixture of emotion and possessiveness.

"Seducing you say? I've been standing beside you for over 2 hours Leon? How could I even seduce them when you're holding my waist tightly?!"

Damn, your story is over, you accidentally raised your voice, the car Leon was driving, made a sharp turn, and stopped right in front of the forest, a deserted area!.

"So it turns out, my love has now become a rebellious woman"

Leon got out of the car, turned around and forced open the side car door right where you were sitting.

"Look at me doll"

With his tight grip on the nape of your face with eyes filled with jealousy and arousal.

"Kneel"

You want to refuse but what can you do when you are side by side with Leon who could ask you to do more and more strange things.

You get out of the car, inevitably kneeling on the ground and grass that touches your knees.

"Open it with your own hands"

Leon looks at you kneeling right in front of him, so beautiful and erotic, how lucky he is to have a wife like you.

"Suck it faster doll, don't hit your teeth"

With a tight grip on your hair, Leon guides you to suck it and move your head back and forth, he penetrates your mouth, as if your mouth is another part that he really wants to damage and claim.

You can only pray that when you get home, Leon will at least be gentle with you.

.

.

.

Let's say you are the saddest woman in the world, your daughter Shopia has above average intelligence that makes your head dizzy, while leon? The man was just busy laughing at the report from Sophia's guard who reported that the child had deliberately burned down the inauguration building of the international bank, on the grounds that the bank's funds used corrupted people's money.

With a revolutionary spirit along with the other people, sophia burned down the bank right on the day the bank was to be inaugurated.

"See the doll? I told you, it would be better if we put it in the military academy"

.

At night, maybe it's the time when your world really becomes a hell of torture.

Lying in bed, both your hands and feet are tied to each bedpost, making you in the 'X' position.

Eyes covered with black silk cloth, in a naked position.

Yes, that's right, naked, your hell will come soon, and you are not sure whether in 1 week you will be able to walk or not.

"Sophia is already 6 years old my dear, it would be nice if we gave her a sibling, a little brother for example? Hopefully the second one will be similar to you"

You can hear the sound of Leon's shoes, and the sound of flowing water and the sound of an object being placed somewhere, you are not sure.

Until you feel Leon's tongue forcing its way into your mouth, you can feel the wine flowing in every corner of your mouth, you can even feel the wine falling in vain to both your left and right sides.

"Tonight you are very naughty, teasing men at the party, raising your voice, even, trying to argue back to me"

Leon's hands skillfully squeeze your chest, his lips that very expertly sip, and bite your neck, leaving marks on every inch of your neck, claiming as if there is no tomorrow.

"I will enjoy you so much, my love"

For Leon, no one can take you away from him, if necessary making you pregnant with his child for the second time, maybe it's not a bad idea, even if the world ends.. Leon will find any way to be able to continue to be with you, no matter how much the price is needed.

Because you are there for him, and he is there for you, His, his alone, no one else.

His mine

.

.

.

Tag list; @snowflakes666 @nerdygoateepeanut @blurryperrtymoonlight @luminethebest @scenicelixir @n4muqr @cannyyyyy @athena-roy @sirenetheblogger @rai-xxx @thehopingfairy @ryusooze @yaoduriaa @merveeeeesworld @darkuni63

Please dont steal my work, or use without my permissions, Always be good people Dear. Much love, Neva🦋🦋.

©️Nymphea0 2024 , OG story, Project Drak Manhwa Character story.

[mspopstar]

What would happen if you were to lock Meta Knight, Dedede, Magolor and Marx all in the same room?

Content warning: Graphic Content.

DDD: "Wha- What the?! What is this place? Meta Knight?! Meta Knight where are we?"

MK: "Sire, I've not a clue. We're in some...cage"

M: "Cage? Cages has bars, this is more of a cube!"

MK: "This is no reason to be pedantic, we are trapped and that is the issue at hand."

M: "Hm...."

THIRTY MINUTES LATER.

DDD: "Meta Knight, do you see anythin' up there"

MK: "Sire, there is not even a seam of which the ceiling meets the wall. It... The material... It is not concrete, it is not wood, it is not even metal. It neither scratches or warps like plastic too. It feels like glass, but it isn't transparent otherwise... Well, we would see something, no?"

M: "Well... There's the possibility that it is transparent and the white we're seeing is what's outside of this cube... Like we're all trapped in a glass cube in a white void in... somewhere."

MK: "Quiet you. If that were the case, there'd be a reflection wouldn't there?"

M: "Mm... Well, not always! After all, you don't get a reflection from plastic, right? We could be in a plastic cube!"

MK: "Did you not hear me, if it were plastic then I'd already free us! It doesn't scratch, it does not warp."

M: "Maybe it's translucent rather than transparent. Hm? There's clearly a light source coming from something."

DDD "No bickering you two. Crap. I don't even feel some form of air comin' through either. This room has no circulation of any kind... As ya' said. no seams so the walls and floor are all one solid material. No way this is hand-made then if there's a interior... Not to mention... It's solid, no sense of hollowness on the other side of these walls. Magic maybe? Well, if it were magic I'd have a sense of it."

M: "Heh. Well, I'm gonna take a nap. Wake me one one you two have figured out anything."

FOUR HOURS LATER.

M: "Bets?"

DDD: "On what?"

MK: "....What?"

M: "Bets on how long it takes for Kirby to come save us."

DDD: "Optimistically... Three days?"

MK: "That is if Kirby has a idea of where we are..."

DDD: "You bring up a good point chrome dome. Usually when we go missing there's a huge event. I just remember taking a nap an' then I'm in this crazy place."

MK: "In my circumstances, I had just finished looking through some electronic order forms from a merchant on Planet Mecheye whom my operations does business with and for. I wanted to re-check the product code for a new set of energy valves meant for a future upgrade. So I decided to leave the communications room to and head to Captain Vul's office so that we coul-.

M: "Gahaha! Geez! Who cares about that? Cut to the point."

MK: "..."

DDD: "I'll have to agree with my jester over 'ere Meta Knight. We might have all time in the world but we don't need a play-by-play of your day."

MK: "Right, sire. Well, I did not wish to wait for the lift so I decided to teleport... Then, well, I am here."

M: "For me, I just blinked."

DDD: "What?"

M: "Yes. It was very weird. I got something in my eye, blinked a couple of times and when I re-opened my eyes on the... third blink I opened my eyes to this white room."

MK: "Hm... That rules out a few theories I have."

DDD: "Does it now?"

MK: "Aye. Clearly, our imprisonment is not of the result of magic, a physical kidnapper, or, in my case, a faulty re-route of my teleportation. It... It is the result of something or someone beyond that. There's no correlation between us and how we arrived here. It is anomalous and random."

M: "Ahah... We're totally in it now."

MK: "Why are you chuckling, tell me, is this but a game for you? What is it in this case?"

M: "Relax. Meta Knight, was it? You can't teleport out of here with that cape of yours. Dedede couldn't break a dent in the walls with his hammer and your sword couldn't scratch. It in this case is the worst possible scenario."

DDD: "Don't say that."

MK: "Yes. We needn't the excessive negativity."

M: "Hmph. If that is how you wish to be, who am I to stop you."

DDD: "For now, let's just rest. Sleep a little. Clear our heads and come up with a plan."

24 HOURS LATER.

MK: "We do have some provisions. Three MREs, a chocolate bar, two lolipops, an Invincibility Candy, and finally a full canteen of water."

DDD: "Is this really all we have?"

M: "Gosh! You're right. If I had known we'd be trapped in a cosmic prison. I'd bring some snacks!"

MK: "We do have a single Invincibility Candy, I suppose we can take advantage of its properties."

M: "How?"

DDD: "You never had one, have you?"

M: "No, I can't say I have."

MK: "It is simple. The Invincibility Candy replenishes all. One bite, and you're instantly satiated, all wounds heal, and so on. I suppose I can break it down into as many small chunks as possible and we can ration it out once the normal provisions run out."

M: "Ahaha, I see now!"

MK: "For our normal provisions... I suppose it is best we conserve what we can, using only the absolute minimum. However... Well, I suppose I do not need to eat or drink..."

M: "...Oh? And why is that?"

MK: "Being what I am... Whatever that may be. I do not need to consume food or drink. After all, my species is long lived, hardy, and nigh immortal. Consumables are not exactly necessary."

M: "Hm. ...Well, I suppose more for..."

M: "..."

M: "Well, I suppose that's more for me and his highness then, right? Thank you, Meta Knight!"

DDD: "Hold on jus' a second. I don't want you to starve Meta."

MK: "It is of no concern to you. I will be fine. I would rather fast if it means keeping those who can't alive."

DDD: "If you say so..."

MK: "With our food situation squared away... Well, I suppose we can sleep?"

THREE DAYS LATER

DDD: "Wait a second..."

M: "...?"

MK: "What is it...?"

DDD: "I... I don't think help is coming."

MK: "..."

DDD: "Meta Knight, there is somethin' very strange and very wrong about this prison place here."

MK: "Calm yourself. What is the issue?"

DDD: "You can't teleport out of here, and that is a dimensional cape, right?"

MK: "No, unfortunately, I cannot."

DDD: "Is there anything, anything at all that could stop you from using it to teleport? Maybe that can be a clue to where we are You can already pull stuff from it, so it's not completely broken, right?"

MK: "Yes, and no. The problem is, my Dimensional Cape works as more of a hammer-space, similar to Kirby's mouth. Teleporting is, for lack of a better explanation, opening a door within that hammer space to traverse to a different location that is contingent on dimensions. No matter what I've tried, I couldn't open that door so to speak. So, the only thing that would stop me from accessing it's properties for teleporting... would be... if there wasn't a dimension to tap into in the first place."

DDD: "Crap. If that's the case.... You can't use your cape so... So we're stuck not just physically, but outside of physics itself?"

MK: "Er...Yes?"

M: "I don't understand what that means. What exactly is the problem?"

DDD: "If what I'm theorizing is correct, we are outside the existence of our 'dimensions' itself. In other words, it is like we're outside of existing within a physical or chronological instance... Whatever this place is... It's in a sort of null-dimension outside of what could be considered a "physical" dimension of sorts."

MK: "..."

M: "...Huh. Is it even possible to... Traverse that? Magolor could come find us, right? He's a dimensional traveller."

DDD: "I don't know... I don't know if Magolor could even make it... Can you even traverse a dimension that isn't even... How should I say, how d'you go to a place that was never present from your own perspective?"

MK: "..."

M: "..."

TEN DAYS LATER

*Clang*

*Clang*

*Clang*

M: "Will you give it a rest? You've been at that wall for hours. That sword of yours isn't gonna break it. You haven't even left a scratch!"

MK: "I have... *huff*... I have to try something. We can't just be... Stuck."

M: "Hah... Do you know of the definition of insanity?"

MK "..."

DDD: "..."

M: "So, what now?"

MK: "We continue waiting...."

M: "Right, but what then. Do we continue waiting and waiting? Heh. Is that it? We do nothing and wait for the inveitabl-"

MK: "Silence. Do not even speak such thoughts."

M: "Right, right. Of course, you would say that. Right, Sir Meta Knight?"

MK: "Kh-?! What are you implying, anyways you devil?"

M: "You're going to outlive us both, aren't you? You already know that."

MK: "...That... That is true. What are you trying to get at? Why are you saying this."

M: "What then, Meta Knight? What then after that? Are you prepared for that?"

MK: "...So be it. If... If that will be my fate I have... methods to..."

M: "Take care of yourself, perhaps?"

MK: "..."

TWO WEEKS LATER

M: "We're out of food. All of the water is gone. ...We have only two small pieces left of Invincibility Candy."

MK "...I see. Aye. Go ahead, take one and pass the other to his highness."

DDD: "Wait, are we really out of..."

MK: "Yes, Sire. I'm sorry."

M: "Tch. Two weeks. Not a single change. NOTHING, NOTHING, NOTHING!"

DDD: "..."

MK: "SILENCE! Do you think I do not know? We've been in the same forsaken box for two weeks! Do you think I already don't know we're TRAPPED?!"

M: "Without food or water... Well, Dedede here is now biding time, huh?"

MK: "Bah! You are in just as much danger, no?"

M: "...Oh, right... Yes, you're right."

MK: "That hesitation, what for? Hm?"

M: "...Hmph, it doesn't matter now. Okay? I lied."

DDD: "What...."

MK: "So you did know a way out? Another one of your sick pranks?"

M: "Kyahahah! No, no, no. Trust me, I do not care for being stuck here as much as you two do. I admit. A soul? Don't have one. Thank Kirby for that one. I lack a soul, ergo, I had no necessary need to eat or drink. Sorry about that, I really am. However, if I am to die here I refuse to die on a empty stomach."

MK: "You vile selfish beast!"

DDD: "...Meta Knight, calm down. .... It ain't...It's not worth it. Is it now? What's done is done. Haah... Let's just... Let's just sleep. You two are exhausting... I don't have the energy to deal with it."

M: "..."

MK: "...My apologies."

Three Weeks Later

M: "I...I don't think Kirby's coming for us. Hah... Meta Knight? Why... Why am I scared?"

MK: "... I... Kirby will come for us."

M: "Wouldn't he have, already? Why hasn't he?! There's so much he could've done by now. He could've wished for our safe return through NOVA by now."

MK: "That's... Kirby... Stop. Kirby is going to come for us or we're going to figure out a way out..."

M: "Why hasn't he?!"

MK: "I do not know! I don't know why Kirby hasn't shown up..."

M: "..."

MK: "...? Sire, are you okay?"

DDD: "...Meta Knight. I'm scared. I want to go home. I don't want to die like this. Anythin' but this... "

MK: "I know. Eventually, we'll get out of here. For now... Go to sleep, Sire. Conserve your strength."

DDD: "...Alright."

M: "..."

MK "...I will. I will fix this. I will get us out of here. I have to, any means necessary."

M: "Pah, good luck with that..."

MK: "..."

SEVEN WEEKS AND THREE DAYS LATER

MK: "Sire, I'm sorry."

M: "Huh why do you...?"

DDD: "Mmngh?...Wha...What're yo-"

*Ssslraash--!!!*

M: "W-WHY?!"

MK: "I had to. It's the only way to escape."

M: "Escape?! Wait, wait, wait, wait, wait, wait, wait, wait, wait, wait!!!"

MK: "He was in pain. He could barely sit up. He was shivering. It was an act of mercy. A quick death is far more appealing than a long, drawn out one of anguish."

M: "Hahaha?! Have you lost your mind or something?!"

MK: "Perhaps. We aren't escaping from here. I realize that. There are times where you can only give up. That is okay. I have made peace with that."

M: "...Wait. I don't... Meta Knight?! Meta Knight! ...What are you doing?"

MK: "Worry not. I will make this quick."

M: "I... Hold on, wait. I don't... I don't... I don't want to-!"

EIGHT WEEKS LATER

MK: "....I'm sorry, I'm so sorry....Sire... Uuhg... I'm sorry... Sire... I can't do it... I can't do it.... I'm sorry... I'm sorry.....Kirby... Agh..."

ELEVEN WEEKS LATER

MK: "....It is time. Deep breaths... Allign the blade....and..."

MK: "Nn...!?!!!-"

TWELVE WEEKS LATER

TWENTY WEEKS LATER

FOURTY WEEKS LATER

THREE YEARS LATER

"My, my, what an interesting scenario! I can't say I am too surprised of the outcome. Well, thank you again for using HWC's Virtual Problem and Scenario Observer, VPASO!"

-Executive Secretary Susana Haltmann

[goodeapple]

blue snowflakes (modern hotd, xmas edition ... daddy!aemond x oc)

pairing : Aemond x Ysilla (Rhaenyra'sDaughter!OC) but there's no overt incest in this one, you're welcome, normies

warnings : MDNI. ngl, this one is fluffy and tender as FUCK (too much christmas cheer me thinks). however, unprotected sex, sexual use of the word "daddy", Aemond's usual breeding kink, and way too many bad dad jokes lie ahead.

word count : 6,000+

note : merry christmas and happy holidays to all you lovely people. ty for such an amazing year. here's a little thank you from me to you. xx

.

.

.

7:10. He finishes up a report that isn't expected until the first, the tap of his fingers anxiously loud on the keyboard. 7:15. He stokes the wood in the fireplace, warming his hands in front of the flames, his leg bouncing with restless energy. 7:28. He drains his whiskey glass and the burn licks down his throat before raging into his belly.

They should be here by now. Aemond does not freak out. That's not who he is- the grip he holds on his emotions never waivers. But as the time ticks and tocks on and he remains alone in his flat, his nerves start to sizzle until they singe. 

At 7:48, a frenzied knock on the door has Aemond moving across the floor in four long strides. 

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, the roads were God awful, took us an hour to get down Main." Ysilla stands shivering as he rips it open. She stomps her Uggs for almost dramatic effect, the ice sticking to the boots melting in the warmth of the hallway. Aemond releases a slow and steady breath, the tight fist of anxiety in his chest loosening. The little thing holding strong to Ysilla's gloved hand is a marshmallow puff of bubblegum pink goosefeather down, her jacket done up to her muff covered ears. 

"Daddy, Daddy!" Dany shrieks, uncaring of the obvious chill that polishes the apples of her cheeks and the tip of her nose into a cherry red glow. She releases her mother's hand, dashing forward before almost immediately tumbling over her own feet and eating it in the foyer. 

Aemond catches his daughter without blinking, hauling her onto his hip and pressing a strong kiss into her temple. "Hello, my little dragon." A piece of him notches into place and suddenly, his eyes are brighter and his posture less stiff, his head clear and heart beating fonder. His beautiful Daenerys. 

He gestures Ysilla in and she nods her thanks, unravelling her spun scarf from her neck and toeing off her soaked shoes. Her own cheeks are burnt from the cold, her fine, fawn skin accepting the rosiness like an expensive blush. 

"You drove?" He asks his ex, his tone sharper than he wishes but he still means it. It's fucking gnarly outside and she decided tonight of all nights was the one to take a joyride?

Ysilla rolls her eyes, moving down the hall to the front room, speaking to him over her shoulder. "Yes, Aemond, we drove. I know how to do that."

He thought he fucked that attitude out of her a long time ago, but they haven't been together in awhile. Things change. 

"Where the hell is Erryk?" He sets Dany onto her feet, half listening and humming as his daughter rattles off every thought that pops into her head, leaving behind her a trail of winter wear she peels off that is every color of the pastel rainbow. 

Ysilla sniffs, her eyes roaming critically over his decorations. His assistant picked them out, and it's like she can smell it.

"It's Christmas, Aemond, I gave him the week off." 

Aemond doesn't growl but it's quite close. "I don't pay him to take a week off, Ysilla, I pay him to make sure my girls get to where they need to be safely." 

The glare she pins him with is colder than the wind howling outside. Aemond winces. He knows better than to let that shit slip. Ysilla will take a chunk out of him for saying things like that in front of Daenerys. It gives her false hope that Mummy and Daddy are getting back together, Aemond. She'd said. That had fucking stung. That was right after they separated, the echo of her loss (in their bed, in their flat, in his life) still disorienting him. His days blurred into one long line of droll goings until he at last got to see Dany again. 

"What's done is done, Aemond. I apologized for being late. Now drop it." 

She uses her mum tone and it's effective as all hell. Aemond bites his tongue and waves his metaphorical white flag, rubbing at the back of his neck briskly. Ysilla exhales deeply and lets the defensive line of her shoulders drop. She rummages through her bag, a Birkin he bought her for their first anniversary, and pulls out a long white envelope. 

"She wrote a note to Santa that neither you or I are to read, alright? We're supposed to leave it by the fireplace, next to Santa's cookies, and not peek. Right, Dany love?" Ysilla recites, tossing the sealed note onto the kitchen counter. Dany nods, bobblehead like, and smiles her big missmatched grin, baby teeth missing like blacked out windows in a building. Aemond chuckles, nodding seriously when his daughter shoots him a barbed look. 

"Daddy, it's important! We can't forget, okay?!" 

"Of course, Princess, don't fret. Daddy will make sure all goes well." Aemond ducks down to lock gazes with his daughter, wanting to ensure that she knows her feelings are heard. Ysilla laughs, so softly he almost misses it. She claps her hands once and father and daughter's eyes lock onto her intently. 

"Okay my love, are you all set? You have Frostfire and your letter is safe. Your Angelina Ballerina jammies are in your pack and so is blankie. Are we missing anything?" Ysilla picks at nonexistent lint at the cuff of her cashmere sweater, her fingers twitching along the fine fabric. Aemond gets it- this part is the worst, without fail. 

"Mumma, stay." Dany whispers, moving forward to clutch at Ysilla's sleeve with tiny, pleading fingers. His ex sighs and the sound rattles from her throat as it moves past the dense ball of emotion there. 

"Baby girl, come now, I'll see you next week. We'll go to Nana and Grandpa's and ring in the new year together. All of your cousins will be there too. Doesn't that sound like fun?" 

Dany keeps quiet, her chin drooping down to her chest, her midnight sprigs of bouncing curls curtaining her face from her parents. Ysilla settles on her knees, shrinking down in order to keep her daughter's focus. 

"And you're spending Christmas with Daddy. And Auntie Helaena told me she'll be here with you tomorrow. And so will- oh rūs, don't cry, it's okay." She coos, swiping away her daughter's tears with gentle thumbs. 

Aemond swallows thickly, squatting behind Dany and shrugging her out of her Bluey backpack. He bought it for her last month, going against the agreement he'd made with Silla to not buy her any presents so close to the holiday but shit, he couldn't help himself. She's his only baby- and it's not like he's expecting to have another with anyone any time soon. 

Dany sniffles, her voice gentler than a baby bird's chirp. "But but Mummy, you'll be alone." 

Between Ysilla's eyebrows crease and she blinks rapidly, the whites of her eyes illuminating with tears. Aemond wants to reach out, squeeze her hand, her knee, cup her cheek… but he doesn't do any of that. He isn't allowed to anymore. 

"I'll be okay, sweet pea. Mummy promises." Ysilla presses their foreheads together, dusting butterfly kisses all over her girl's face. Within seconds, Dany's weeping turns to giggles, to full belly laughter after Ysilla starts to press obnoxious wet smooches anywhere she can reach. The sunshine smile that bursts over Ysilla's face steals Aemond's breath away. 

"Bye baby."

"Bye baby." Dany parrots back, smothering herself into her mother's neck, her tiny arms lassoing around her tightly. Ysilla squeezes her back just as fiercely, refusing to be the first to break away. Dany finally relents, fists rubbing at her eyes, before shuffling to the couch to sit. Ysilla's legs shake as she stands and Aemond ghosts a hand over the small of her back in a quiet comfort. 

The parents take their cue to give their daughter some space and start to work their way out of the room. 

"You know I don't mind if you stay. Not going to be doing much but lounging around and eating too much sugary shit. You can have your old bedroom back. I'll even clear out a drawer for you." He can be funny when he wants to be, all earlier unpleasantries forgiven and forgotten. Ysilla lets him lift her spirits, her wobbly grin the best Christmas gift he could ask for. 

"The sock drawer was never the issue, Aem… it was the hair care drawer." He snorts as she giggles, tickled pink by her own joke. They reach the front door and he imagines the feeling he gets here is similar to greeting the edge of the plank. 

"Anyways, I have a hot date with a bubble bath and a bottle of Myrish rum- I can't cancel that again." It's not the best excuse, especially because her eyes are still glassy with emotion, but Aemond won't take a mile from his given inch. 

Ysilla turns to face him after throwing one last look down the hall. An eyelash has drifted to freckle her cheekbone, the bat of her lashes no doubt stirring it loose and Aemond doesn't think before he cradles her cheek, his thumb sweeping it away. He drops his hand as quickly as he'd raised it, the warmth flowing from her skin too enticing to trust himself with. 

She hesitates then, for a moment, before tiptoeing up and planting a soft kiss on his cheek. She braces her palm on the curve of his bicep and she squeezes at the muscle, and he presses into her as close as she'll allow. Her voice is softer than snowfall at his ear. "Merry Christmas, Aemond." 

He turns his head just so, and he brushes his lips at her temple, the same way he'd greeted Dany. His words from before echo like the groaning ghost of Christmas past. His girls. "Merry Christmas, Sill."

He holds the door for her, watching her walk out of his life yet again and definitely doesn't get an eyeful of her ass as she goes.

He shuts and bolts it, and how pathetic is it that he has to dig his nails into the doorframe to stop from chasing after her and giving his best Love, Actually airport reunion kiss in the elevator. He thumps his forehead against the wood. He wonders if he'll stop loving her sometime soon, because three years apart has done fuck all for healing his broken heart and it sucks. Aemond stops feeling sorry for himself long enough to look back into the flat. Dany stands alone at the end of the hallway, Frostfire, her ratty stuffed dragon she's had since birth, clutched by the wing in her fist and swinging by her side. Her giant ice blue eyes pierce through him, and the sad small frown on her lips matches his. God, this never gets any easier.

"Come on, baby girl." His daughter tucks her hand into his as he leads them to the sterling white marble kitchen. 

He makes it good, special he hopes. They press shapes into the sugar cookie dough, and then frost the somewhat recognizable snowflakes once they've baked and cooled. He makes her cocoa, begrudgingly adding more marshmallows after being suckered by her pouting face, but he doesn't truly mind. There's not one memory he has of doing any of this with his dad, and he'll be damned if Daenerys ever thinks for even one moment that he wouldn't want to be anywhere rather than right here, with her. He'd give her a cereal bowl of marshmallows if he didn't know that she'd puke them back up after her sugar rush would fizzle out. 

They crash onto the couch eventually, the sun long since set, the view from this high up making all of the far and distant lights twinkle like gleaming stars. 

They're watching a movie, the one with the bratty kid who gets left behind by his family when they leave for Paris. It makes Aemond's mind hit the snooze button but Dany giggles every time one of the Wet Bandits gets hurt, so he relents and just enjoys having her here with him. 

 A tepid knock at the door is nearly lost to him, a particularly gusty wind shaking the triple pane windows something awful, but it sounds again and Aemond frowns. He's not expecting anyone, certainly not on Christmas Eve. He wraps the throw blanket tighter around Dany as he leaves their nest, and jogs down the hall. 

"Yeah yeah, I'm coming." He says, loud enough to quiet the knocker from sounding again. He doesn't bother with the peephole, unlatching the deadbolt and pulling the door open with more than a little annoyance. 

Ysilla stands stockstill, doing her best to place first in a snowman lookalike contest, so many white specks of snow littering her dark strands that she nearly matches Aemond's icy coloring. 

"I tried, there's no way I can drive back home in that. Had to leave my car on the street, snow's too thick to get through."

"Jesus, Sill, you're like a fuckin' ice cube." Aemond all but yanks her inside, wincing at the freezing sting of her skin.

"Want me to call you an Uber?" That's the last fucking thing he wants, but he'd move mountains for her, even if it's in the direction opposite of him.

Ysilla shakes her head in the negative, her teeth chattering so hard that the clinking sounds like it hurts. "I tried- nothing's available. Not even with surge pricing, fuck's sake."

Aemond falls silent, grabbing a towel from the linen closet and pressing it into her trembling hands. She gives him an appreciative look and starts to dry her damp hair. 

"Mummy stay?" Tink tink tink, like a bell, Daenerys' voice floats down the hall, her head hanging over the edge of the couch to stare at her parents with a marvelously mischievous smile. 

Ysilla glances up at him, apprehension bright in her lavender eyes. He's still so close, he can smell the jasmine misted over her skin. Their sheets used to be soaked in it, a calling card she'd leave him with anytime she had to travel. He misses her so much, it makes his teeth ache, so who is he to question a Christmas miracle?

"Mummy stay." Aemond declares, stepping behind Ysilla to tug her coat off. He's selfish in his chivalry and he lets his thumbs trail down her arms as he undresses her, and he'd pay good money to know if her shiver is from the cold or his touch. 

Dany jumps to her feet, bouncing on the couch and screaming at the top of her lungs, "Yay! Mummy stays, Mummy stays!" 

.

Aemond pulls the glass doors shut on the fireplace, watching drowsily as the glowing embers snuff out to a chilly charcoal grey. It's late, close to midnight, time lost somewhere between Elf and The Polar Express. He stands, wincing as his knees crack and pop and goes to sit on the arm of the couch. 

Enjoying the quiet, he gazes upon his girls. Wrapped up in each other, Ysilla and Dany are passed out and have been for at least an hour. After he'd gotten some food in Sill, he'd all but tucked the girls in together, listening to Dany happy chitter until she finally knocked out, sprawled on her mother's chest and nestled into her father's side. 

Not wanting to wake her but knowing her back will thank him for it later, Aemond shakes Ysilla's ankle gently. She stirs, blinking slow and heavy before she spots him, and Aemond has to swallow past the lump in his throat. That look had gotten them into trouble many times before- in the back of a limo on the way to an art gala, on a beach lounger while they holidayed on the Orange Shore, when they first toured this flat and he decided they should christen the kitchen island. Good times. 

Let's put her to bed. He mouths, not ready to break the stillness of the moment. Ysilla nods, flexing her arms around their sleeping child and starts to untangle their legs. 

Aemond rises, hovering over them and tucking his hands into Dany's armpits to lift her into his chest. She's getting too big. She's got to stop growing before Aemond has a mental breakdown over dating and prom dresses while she's still in nursery school. 

"Mumma, Daddy…" She's still asleep, her lashes fanning over her rosy cheeks and hair a moppy mess. Aemond rubs her back and Ysilla trails along next to him, brushing their daughter's curls out of her face. 

"Sleep now, my angel. It's almost Christmas. And when you wake up, Santa will have visited and left you something special."

"And read my letter?"

"And read your letter." Ysilla promises, pressing a lovely kiss to her forehead. She stays behind in the doorway, letting Aemond clear the pink frilly bed of a million stuffed animals before sliding Dany beneath the sheets. He clicks on her firefly nightlight and tucks Frostfire in beside her. 

"Sweet dreams, dōna hāedar." He's not a crier but he feels the salty sting in his nose. She's his one constant, his daughter, his heir. He'll never be more thankful for Ysilla than when she ignored her lawyer's advice and decided to split 50/50 custody. Losing her nearly killed him, if his daughter would've been lost to him too? Aemond's not sure he could've survived. He departs after a few more peaceful moments, clicking her door shut softly behind him. 

He stretches, a pleased groan escaping him as he heads back to the living room. The couch is empty and in a brief moment of dumbstruck panic, he wonders if Ysilla seized her opportunity and left. He knows she's happy to be here with Dany, but he also accepts that she's not happy to be here with him. 

The faucet flipping on in the kitchen snuffs out his dread and he follows the sound like it's a siren song. Ysilla washes their mugs methodically, her too long sleeves rolled up to her elbows. He'd given her one of his hoodies to dethaw in, and the emerald tone against her complexion makes him hungry. She finishes, turning the cups upside down on the drying rack before she towels off her hands. The smile she wears when she catches sight of him may be small, but it's genuine. 

"Hey."

Aemond grins, a puppy given attention, his metaphorical tail wagging wildly. "Hey. Sad you missed out on your rum soaked bubble bath?" 

Ysilla snorts, rolling her eyes at him good naturedly. "No, not at all. This was… nice. This was all very nice." She swallows hard, rolling down her sleeves so that they dip past her fingers again. "I enjoyed every second of it." 

"So did I. It was like old times." 

Ysilla grins, leaning her elbows on the counter. The only light in the whole flat is from the Christmas tree, the soft gold gleam painting the room alive with merriment. 

"We practically lived on that couch when Dany was born, you remember?"

Aemond smirks, relishing in the memory. He treads into the kitchen, closing the distance between them as naturally as he can. 

"It was closer to the food. And more spacious than the bedroom. It was an easy choice." 

Ysilla laughs at his recollection, an easy laugh that he always celebrated getting out of her. He hopes Dany will laugh like her, be joyous like her. Aemond doesn't have much of that gene to pass on.  

"You look good, Aemond." She gives him an up/down, and there's not enough light in here to tell if she's blushing. He gives her one back, taking his time on her legs and the curve of her thighs before the rest of her frame is swallowed up by his clothes.

"You do too, Sill."

She huffs, pinning him with a faux annoyed glare. "Are you going to agree with everything I say?" 

"Oh absolutely." Aemond deadpans, leaning in closer before giving her his cheekiest grin. 

Ysilla cranes her head back so she can keep their eyes connected, but she ends up breaking first, staring at something above him with a somewhat startled look. 

"Mistletoe…" She trails off, almost too quiet to catch. Aemond looks above him and sighs. 

"New assistant decorated. She has a thing for the doorman that lets her in here. Maybe she was trying to get lucky." 

He dismisses the hovering green foliage as quick as he'd noticed it but when he looks back to Ysilla, she's still staring. Transfixed, eyes twinkling. 

"Isn't it bad luck? To not…" He wonders if she can't bring herself to voice it aloud. To not kiss? Before tonight, they've barely been in the same room for more than thirty minutes in the last three years. Slipping each other the tongue is most likely a step way past their invisible boundary. 

Aemond steps closer and they're toe to toe. Ysilla's eyes snap to his and the gulp she takes is damn near audible. He wraps a stray curl behind her ear, hand drifting over to cup the soft edge of her cheek. He presses his thumb under her chin, making her raise her lips to nearly brush against his. He stares into her eyes, the drip of the faucet thunderous, and bends down. He kisses her forehead, eyes closed and his nose burrowing into her fringe, committing her floral pheromone to his memory. He stays there, listening to the labored breaths rise and fall in her chest, and soaks in the moment. 

He has to leave because if he doesn't, he'll start something he's not sure Ysilla will be able to stomach in the bright light of day. Like pulling teeth, he steps back, purposefully (shamefully) avoiding her beseeching eyes. He mumbles a goodnight, lips burning and craving another taste as he turns to exit.

He's spun back around by a firm hand twisting him by his sweater. Ysilla yanks him down to her level, his back pressing into the counter, and she slides her lips over his. A puppet on a string for her and her alone, Aemond's arms circle round her waist and he crushes her to him. It's as good as their first- no, better. He knows every spot that makes her sigh, she can find each nerve to set him off. It's as easy as breathing, when they're together and he lets himself enjoy it all.

Ysilla breaks away and she's breathing much harder than she was before. "Now that's a proper kiss." She whispers and he feels her lips perk up in a silly little grin that he doesn't see, because his mouth finds hers again and he loses himself in her.

He lifts her and she goes gracefully into his arms, winding her legs around his waist. He needs to get them somewhere they could go horizontal, wishful thinking and all that. He guides them to the couch, throwing himself down on it and pulling her in as close as space will permit. She settles on his lap, her leggings and his joggers doing nothing to conceal the massive hard-on that spells out her name. 

"And what do you want for Christmas this year, little girl?" Swiss, gouda, cheddar. The line is so cheesy but Aemond feels inspired by the holiday fair. That, and he's been bricked since she put on his clothes. He wants to get her naked as soon as possible and if he can fast track that by way of a stupid joke that's right up her alley, he can live with that. 

She nibbles at his earlobe before slithering her tongue up the shell of his ear. Her lips tickle the cartilage as she whispers and it makes him shiver. "I really want to make a joke about Santa's sack right now." 

"Christ, Ysilla." Aemond groans, letting an exasperated laugh bubble out of his chest. This is so his fault. 

"You know I'm funny." She cradles his face, angling his head to the side so that she can lick and bite at his neck. 

"Maybe. But what I do know for sure… is that you're the most stunning woman I've ever been blessed to see. And you are a magnificent mother to our daughter. And you were a phenomenal partner to me…" Aemond braces himself, a glutton for punishment. "And I fucked that up royally, didn't I?" 

He feels Ysilla frown and she straightens, sliding back to sit on his knees rather than on his dick. "Aemond, you know that's not what happened." 

He hmms noncommittally, mourning the route that they both steered away from. Sex over feelings is usually a no brainer for any man but this is a conversation that he needs to have. And from the way Ysilla's eyes dim down to a sad hue, it's one she needs to have too. 

"We're not together right now because I couldn't, how did you phrase it? 'Get my head out of my ass and straighten out my priorities'? Yeah, you hit the nail on the head there, baby. It was my fault." 

"That wasn't fair to you. I could've tried harder. I was so stressed after Dany was born, I didn't feel like myself. Didn't start feeling like myself again until nearly a year ago." She picks up his hand and she cradles it between both of her own, stroking at the rough rise of his knuckles. 

"If you're feeling like yourself again, does that mean you're seeing someone?" 

Ysilla looks like she wants to hit him and Aemond thinks he should let her. 

"Of course not, why would you even ask that?" 

"You seem happier as of late- or, at least that's what Dany says. Couldn't help but think it might be because of someone new." The thought makes him want to chew glass but he has to ask. He's got to prepare himself for another year of the only girl in his life being a pint-sized princess that demands he plays pony anytime they go to the park. 

"We're separated, Aem. Not divorced." She rolls her eyes and the expression she aims at him spells out duh.

"You're a catch, Sill. Any fucker would be lucky to have you. Plus, it's been three years. I wouldn't be angry if you explored something new." Liar, liar. 

"Yeah, three years where I was focusing on what was best for me and Dany. And that certainly wasn't a new lover." 

Aemond wants to dance a fucking jig in absolute glee but he suppresses it. "So… no one?"

"No one." Ysilla looks at him like she's afraid to ask the next question. "You?"

"There's no one but you. Never has been." The words flow out of him as if they'd lived on the tip of his tongue his whole life. 

She exhales, a long, heavy breath of relief before the most brilliant smile blooms on her mouth. Aemond feels lighter than a fucking feather, his own smile pulling tightly at his lips before they find their way back to one another, licking and lapping into each others' mouths. 

He rolls his hips up, selfish in his desire, and rubs his entire shaft up the hot line of her clothed snatch.

Ysilla tsks, biting his lip and wagging her finger in his face. "Un-uh, wrap it up, big boy."

"Thought you liked it when I go raw." He squeezes her hips, his thumbs tugging at the edge of her waistband. He dips below the elastic, stroking the hot, smooth skin over her hip bones. She rocks forward, a gasp slipping from her mouth as her covered center brushes at his tented cock. "You always came harder when I didn't wear a rubber."

She doesn't deny it, winding her arms around his neck and pulling him back to her mouth. Between kisses, she whispers, "Proof of that is dreaming of sugar plum fairies as we speak." 

Aemond hums around her tongue, pulling away to kiss across her jaw. "Y'know, only children always end up weird."��

Ysilla scoffs, leaning away and raising a fine dark brow at him. 

"I'm kidding." Aemond smiles, brash and bright, pressing an apologetic peck to her chin. 

"No you're not." She groans, widening her thighs as he starts to pull her leggings down. His heart is beating so fast, he can feel his pulse jumping in his neck. His hands worship the skin he bares, stroking her fine, supple softness. He gets her pants past her knees before he loses his patience and decides that's good enough. 

He shoves past his waistband, palming at his stiff shaft before pulling himself free. His cock springs up, weeping head finding her silk covered hole like a dart to a bullseye. His clever fingers hook around the crotch of her panties, pulling them to the side, his knuckles dragging across her wet lips like a ghost of a kiss. He will be eating out at some point tonight, lord willing. 

"You're right, I'm not… I want a boy." He slips the tip inside of her, just enough to get a taste of the warmth of her pussy. 

Their eyes lock and they don't break as Ysilla sinks down onto every rigid inch of his prick. Aemond's jaw drops, stupid to the pleasure of her steaming, slick cunt wrapping around him in such an embrace. It takes her a minute, wincing and whimpering as she goes until finally they're flush, thigh to thigh. 

"That's my girl, takin' it all." Aemond croons, palm finding the back of her neck and thumb stroking just under her hairline. That lights her fire, Ysilla gyrating in smooth figure eights, finding a rhythm that has both of them biting their lips to keep from shouting. 

"Fucckkkk, I missed this." Ysilla pants, head thrown back in absolute ecstasy. She doesn't skip a beat, riding his cock like she'd never left it. "I missed you. You feel so good, holy hell." 

Aemond spreads his knees further apart, letting her spread herself out, reaching deeper in her than before as a result. Ysilla bounces in his lap, the lights on the tree behind her haloing her into something festively angelic. She's some divine dream and Aemond will kill any man who dares to wake him. 

A sharp, high whine brays from Ysilla's throat and Aemond's hand slaps over her mouth roughly. 

"Easy sweetheart, you can't wake Dany up."

Ysilla moves her head back, Aemond's hand slipping away until she ducks forward and swallows two of his fingers. The wet, wiggly muscle of her tongue slides over his digits sloppily, soaking them in her saliva and reminding him exactly how she used to win every fight they would have. She sucks once more, letting him feel the strong flex of her mouth before she pulls off.  

"Then put something in my mouth to shut me up."

He kisses her, long and hard, before retreating and whispering at her swelling lips. "I'm not pulling out of this pussy, Silli girl." 

Ysilla's breath stutters, hips hitching as he shifts just right, her channel fluttering around him in tempo with her heartbeat. 

"Mmmmm, then shove my face into a pillow so I can scream for you."

The way Aemond maneuvers her without pulling out is honestly impressive. Face down, ass up, he manages to rid her of her leggings and knickers, baring all of her silky skin for him to gaze upon. She's got a phenomenal ass, backshots with her used to drive him mad. 

Taking full advantage of their new position, he sets a brutal pace, sliding in harsh and deep, his grip on her hips unyielding. When he pulls out, he lets himself miss the mark, gliding his cock between her puffy folds, his slit slithering up to kiss her clit. 

Ysilla gasps for air, pushing away the pillow she'd been smothering herself with. "That's it, that's it, yeah. Pound my pussy, Daddy." 

It's been a long time since they've played this game but without fail, Aemond's cock jerks in interest and his mouth floods with saliva. He's famished, he's fucking starving, and they only thing that can satiate him is the woman he made a mother. 

"Mmmm, this all for daddy? Makin' a mess on my lap, leavin' a puddle on my couch?" His voice has dropped, the rumble of it pulsing from his chest. His thrusts hit harder, punishing in a way that's similar to a spank on the rear.

"Yes, fuck, I've been wet since I put your hoodie on." Speaking of, she's still wearing it, the Oldtown High logo on the back faded and peeling. Aemond pushes it up to her shoulders until it bunches at the back of her neck. His big hands span the curve of her ribs until he finds himself a handful of her tits and kneads the heavy flesh. 

He can't fuck her like he wants to when their baby is sleeping in the next room, but he gets as close as he can. 

"Your body wants me, love. Couldn't pull out even if I fuckin' wanted to." He strokes at her belly, caressing the place she'd grown their girl. "I think she wants one more." He plants a kiss between her shoulder blades, her skin fucking blistering with heat. 

"Oh, fuck fuck fuck fuck!" She throws her ass back on him, fucking him in earnest until she can't abuse that spongy spot inside of her any longer. She freezes, muscles trembling and fists clenching, the poor throw pillow being shredded by her teeth, until her body goes lax, and the vice grip around Aemond's cock loosens. 

His balls draw up, the edge of his spine burning in need, and he curses with gritted teeth. "Christ, Sill, tell me to pull out. Tell me baby, make me." She's the only one that gets to see him like this- unraveled at the seams and flying apart, unable to control himself when presented with the object of all of his fantasies.

"Mmmm no, so warm," she slurs, her cheek smushed against the couch cushion. She wiggles back against him, a sinful invitation to grab hold and let go. "Fill me up, Aem. Give me your load, come on." 

"Fuck yesss." He hisses, obeying as commanded, pistoning in and out of her pretty cunt before he's a goner, grunting as he cums deep in her greedy womb. 

He slouches on top of her bonelessly, the aftershocks stinging through his entire lower half, his breaths choppy and uneven until the wave retreats, and the feeling comes back to his toes. He slumps to his side, rolling off of her, yanking up his joggers and tossing a throw over Ysilla's alluring backside. 

His wife props her head up on her hand, staring at him with a sated, sleepy expression. 

"Santa came early this year." 

Aemond doesn't react except to say, "If that's a cum joke, I'm kicking you out." 

She breathes out a laugh, shoving at his shoulder. "No you perv, I meant my Christmas wish. It came true."

Aemond smiles, every bit of him happy to sink into the couch while watching her talk. 

"Care to share?" 

Ysilla blushes, as if she didn't just get creampied. 

"I wished for a really good orgasm, preferably with my baby daddy." She plays footsie with him, looping her ankle around his calf and ushering him closer. "Also, I wished for multiple. As many as he's willing to give me. Just so you know."

He kisses her because he can and because he missed doing so. He lurches forward until she's underneath him, their hands going to the other's shirts and ridding them of the suffocating material. 

"Ho ho ho, baby mama."

.

They both keep their word and don't read the letter, tossing it into the lit fire the next morning before Dany stumbles out and screeches Happy Christmas! to her poor, sleep deprived parents. 

The flames eat the careful, crooked scrawl in seconds but the words seem to have manifested to life as Dany watches her mother and father blush every time they bump into one another. 

Dear Mr. Claus,

I know I wrote you a letter last week but I have changed my mind. Please tell your elves to forget the dolly. What I truly want is for my Mummy and Daddy to be back together. They smile more when they're together, and I do too. This is my one Christmas wish and I will be very very very sad if it does not come true, so please try real hard, okay? Okay. Thanks alot alot. I wish you the best of luck with everything! 

PS: If you happen to have a spare dolly in your bag, I won't say no to it. 

Love, 

Daenerys Aemma Targaryen

.

.

.

rūs . baby

dōna hāedar . sweet girl

[dilf-docs]

A Pillar I Am Of Pride

vander x younger!fem reader

summary: you're too young, that's what he tells himself; that you could be one of his kids. but of course you have spent too much time with vi, and unfortunately for him, stubborn rhymes with your name: you just don't know when to quit.

warnings: 18+ (minors dni), age gap (25ish/45ish), smut, p. in v., ofc there is SIZE KINK who do u think i am (he can choke me with those huge arms idcidc), manhandling, thigh riding, dirty talk, virgin!reader, public sex (they violating every health code on the last drop), belly bulge, cream pie, breeding kink if u squint, this is basically pwp also with happy ending (no one blows up or dies yet THIS IS my story and i say they're all happy as a big family SHUT UP)

word count: 3,142 words

side note: hope the arcane community hasn't died yet, looking at the amount of votes i received on the poll where i asked if y'all wanted stuff from the show. I LOVE VANDER!!! saw the drawing and went insane like A PRIMAL NEED TO WRITE SMTH abt one of zaun dilfs I MEAN who do u think i am???? ++based this little filthy 2D piece on the hozier song dinner and diatribes.

You just don't know when to quit.

Vander isn't dumb. He's lived enough and seen enough. He's lived enough to tell when the admiration became adoration on those big eyes of yours, that looked up to him first but now down without an ounce of shame through his sturdy built whenever you think he isn't looking.

He isn't dumb, so he knows he shouldn't encourage it. Yet, Vander also thinks there is something different about you.

There is this desire to protect you, love you like one of his kids, but there is something unique about you he can't quite tell, enough to differentiate you from viewing you as part of them, even if there's a bed belonging to you next to theirs.

He is a fool, for thinking you wouldn't end up adopting at least one of his or the kids' traits. And of course, lucky him, it had to be Violet's headstrong nature.

"Vander" you call out his name, and he's brought back to the red and the bridge.

He can still see you, eighteen, fighting against an enforcer twice your size: because he took the life of your parents, faces Vander had seen in the mines and then at their meetings, ready to fight in the name of the undercity, for a change and a future: for their daughter.

That is what Vander wants for his kids in Zaun. For you.

So he negotiates with them, even if your eyes fall when you learn the truth one evening, eavesdropping. He pleaded you not to tell the rest, afraid they'll see him differently, just like you. Still, you keep calling his name like you did at the bridge: like a hero; savior. He saved you from death, but you'd die for him.

He keeps his eyes trained on the glass he's wiping as you take a seat in the stools infront of him, unable to look you in the eyes. It kills him; gets harder each passing day. He can't keep lying to himself, but he can lie to you. Protect you, he swore he would do that when he saved you and took Powder and Vi. So, yes, he'll lie his ass off, that his heart too hasn't changed after the years; that it doesn't beat for you and only you.

"Hey, y/n" he forces out, but even saying your name brings him pain.

When did you go from a kid leaving the last remains of hope and naive kids in Zaun drop sooner than others, to a woman equally dangerous in heart and beauty? When did you stop looking like a big sister or a babysitter, to more as a mother to Mylo, Claggor, Powder and Vi?

"Vander" you call again, touching his arm softly, but it burns. It burns.

He stops what he's doing, still without sparing a glance your way.

"C'mon, V." he hates the way such a silly nickname, a monosyllable on top of that, makes him feel. "Look at me, will you?"

He does so, because he can't deny you anything.

"There you go" you laugh easily, as if you didn't know the power you held over him. "Easy, isn't it?"

"You better let me finish" stern, but a smile betrays him.

"No one is stopping you" you huff, "or bothering you"

He finishes the glass, picking up another. "You are"

"Me?" you laugh the accusation off. Then it dies down, and all that's left is the neon hues of outside, reflecting something more mellow, akin to sincerity in your face. "You're right, it's always me"

He doesn't know what to say, all words lost. Silco used to say he knew how to move the people, that masses would follow just by looking at him: Vander always knew what to say.

But as of late, during the end of the day, when it's just you and the dirty glasses he cleans away, Vander finds it hard to speak even, like you're trying to talk in a language he doesn't know, or worst, used to, yet is too old for that now.

"Where is everyone?" he asks, and when you laugh, he knows he's said something stupid. But there are more stupid things to say, like I love you, so he's safe. For now.

"Might be because we're closed" you mock. "The kids are asleep, if that's what you truly wanted to ask. Made sure of it"

The last part, whispered like a secret. He can see the dare laced in between your words, the desire that pours like the drink he's serving you right now, but he's too old to play games.

"Good" then pushes the glass to where you sit. "Drink"

"Is it new?" you inspect the glass. "I hope you're not trying to poison me"

He laughs, "You know I couldn't hurt you, y/n"

There goes that expression again, and he hates to realize he's playing along.

"I know, Vander" you take a full sip, as if showing him just how much you'd trust him. Like he could have a gun put to your head and you'd understand; like he could have a hand around your neck and you'd breath the last huffs of oxygen in his name.

Silence settles in, until you decide to break it by saying:

"You know, if you wanted to get me drunk" the drink dissapears in a rough gulp, the liquid smooth while it burns and slides down your throat, "you could've just asked"

"And for what would I want to do that?" he bites right into the bait.

The stool creaks as you get up, and he finds your face closer than the smoke and ashes of when he takes a drag.

"Because I know you too want this" you whisper, dangerously low.

His breath hitches, heart beating fast. He could break you in two, if he wanted to, but now trembles like a leaf in the wind with just your perfume and eyes piercing through his.

"Want what?" he dares to ask, duties forgotten long ago.

You click your tongue, maybe in dissapointment.

You just don't know when to quit.

"The evening's slow" now sweet, tempting. "About to end"

He feels drunk, even if he hasn't had a drop. You're lulling him right into your trap. It doesn't matter if he has stopped you before: ignoring the bat of your eyelashes, the lingering touches and the sweet words that seemed reserved for him only.

"What would you do?" he gulps, Adam's apple bobbing. To me, too coward to voice out loud; to stop this nonsense.

You walk over to him, standing still, almost defiant, even if he doubles your size; the thought only makes heat pool in your stomach. The ember of the moonlight shines over your corageous eyes, and Vander thinks he really needs to shorten your quality time with Vi. A hand traces over his defined pecs: hands he's seen before hold a gun, now touching him with a softness that doesn't belong in the undercity.

"Don't you think knowing it's late makes it easier know what I have in mind?" you laugh, and it tickles parts in his body he isn't ready to say yet. "Just give in"

You should've know when to quit.

His eyes darken, and this isn't the Vander you know. If anything, you should be scared, but you rub your thighs together, spot already wet.

"If anyone's about to give in, it's you"

Before you can register, his lips smack together with yours as he takes the lead. His big hands cup your face, traveling down until they reach your hips, and the pressure of his size feels so much better than you imagined.

"Tell your man what would yo do tonight?" huskily whispered your way. His knee finds it's way between your thighs as he applies pressure to your already slick cunt, making you yelp. "Or cat got your tongue?"

You're at loss for words, for the very first time in a while. All that time spent provoking him, edging and pushing for a reaction, so sure of the hidden flame sparking behind the curtain of smoke of his pipe, to know surrender so easily, like your body is unable to react at all.

So instead, you entangle your fingers through his greying hair, a small whine escaping your lips, the sleeping fierce need of battle now translated in the fight for dominance, his mouth growing more demanding.

Vander pushes your body against the bar, making the wood creak. He applies more pressure with his knees, making you whimper again, his tongue reaching every spot inside your sweet mouth.

"God, you're so sweet" he mumbles.

"Then why did you stop yourself all this time?" you breath out, as tempting as the shadows that walk through the streets.

Hi smiles devishly, biting your lip. "Ain't nothing stopping me no more"

He uses your body as he pleases, handling it to his complete and utter advantage, thumbs now digging into your hipbones before he feels you grinding against his knee.

"Greedy little thing. Haven't I taught you manners, ey?" but the way he looks at you, like a starved man who's been denied a meal for years, encourages you to keep rolling your hips. Once you find a steady rhythm, he releases your hips and moves to grab your wrists, pinning you down in the free bar. You whine, the pain of the hard wood on your back digging on your skin.

"Vander" you gasp, but he shuts up the pain by forcing his lips right back. His handsgrab back ahold of your thighs so you keep up the rhythm. He can feel a spot over his clothes start to dampen, doing nothing but augmenting the hunger. God, he can even feel the smell of your arousal.

You moan, head leaning back.

"Feels good?" he asks, and you mumble a nonsensical myriad of words that sound like yes. He nips your neck, making you squirm under his touch.

"C'mon, baby. I ain't deaf but I didn't hear you" Vander taunts, biting still. Now he travels to your collarbone and then tits, removing your shirt to reveal no bra under. Of course, you little vixen had planned it all and he fell like a fool. Not that he's complaining, of course, giving a lick to the soft rosy skin around your nipples.

"M-more, please!" you whimper out loud, mind numb.

"You wanted it so bad, yet can't even speak" he murmurs, sucking a spot dangerously near to your nipple. Your movements against his knee come to a halt, but he makes sure to keep you and your puffy core grinding against his thigh. "Talk"

He should know that you wouldn't give up that easily, prideful as he was, no matter if this is what you've always wanted.

"I said talk" your legs tremble around his when he forces you down harder. "I wanna hear you ask for what you say you wanted so bad, don't think I didn't notice all your traps, taunts and plays, little vixen"

The nickname makes you moan, inciting you to pour the words out.

"Ruin me, Vander" and he barely has time to react, knowing that no man has ever touched you before, your untainted territories dripping for him. "Please- take me and make me yours"

"You know I've never denied you anything" he breaths against your neck, "how could I ever say no to you if you ask so nicely, huh? I see you remembered those manners"

It's now his hand what touches between your thighs, leg long gone. His fingers rub firm circles around your clit through the cloth, making you shiver.

"Let's start small, yeah?" he encourages, "I know you're my brave girl, but I would like you to come on my fingers first"

Vander strips you down, eyes going dark when he sees your needy cunt on display. He shuffles himself down between your legs, and the pressure is new and much, you feel you could come with just the touch of his hand.

"You're so pretty. Can't believe you're giving all of this to an old man like me" he kneels down as you sit legs opened up on the bar, dragging his tongue through your wet folds.

"Sit still, yeah? Let me take care of you" he licks again, gently sucking on it as well. He can't help but wonder why he folded so easy, as if he hadn't put a stop or ignored all of your previous attempts at having him. Now he has you, under him, saying his name in a way he hadn't before, as he makes out with your puffy clit.

"Fuck" you gasp, head falling against the wood. Your hands and toes curl, waves of sensations never felt before washing over you, as Vander continues giving your pussy ministrations.

The energy is electric, your arousal flowing like a river, making wet slurping sounds come out of his lips, feeling up the empty bar, your moans as back track filling his ears. Vander's beard is covered in your juices, making all of this the more obscene.

"I see you liking it" he jokes, licking some of it off his mouth. He adjusts your legs over his broad shoulders, barely noticing the added weight. Your thighs are so close, he can feel them tremble as he slips a finger inside of you, pumping in and out.

"V-Vander" you whine in ecstasy. He loves the little sounds coming out of your mouth; obscene symphony. He adds another finger, now curling them upwards, making your walls drip more while clenching around them, loving the sensation. Your nails dig so deep, you can feel blisters inside of them, holding yourself for as what would be your first orgasm.

"I-I think I'm going to-" he can sense it, years of experience ahead from you. So now he gives his fingers a break, kneeling to let his tongue enter the game again. It swirls around the tight walls, making you squirm.

"Fingers. Now" you demand, and he's carrying your legs again on his shoulders, thrusting them inside of you aggresively. You feel your folds clench around them, your very first orgasm washing over you.

"You behaved well" he praises while kissing your puffy cunt, skin glistening and still sensible. "That's my brave girl"

He uses the cloth he's cleaned the glasses with to wipe off himself. You gasp, laughing even if your eyelids feel heavy.

"What? Think I'm gonna be dirty when I fuck the shit out of you?"

You didn't think his mouth could be so filthy, used to his fatherly side, but oh, you're not complaining. He removes his belt, pulling his pants down. Of course he's huge down there, you think, as the tent behind his underwear marks a reasonably large silhoutte.

"Now, will you be brave one last time? I don't want to scare you, or hurt you?" his boxer falls to his knees, dick hard. You gulp, but can't back off now. He, however, can sense your doubt. "Just say it, and we'll stop"

"No" even you are surprised by the conviction in your voice. "I want you, Vander. Always will"

You open up your legs, closer to the edge of the furniture. He walks over until his dick brushes your cunt, pulling up your legs once again, a position you've discovered as of today, might be your favorite.

"See, there is a reason I didn't clean you up. Don't think I don't know my manners as well"

He lubes with your still wet pussy, wasting no time to rub his dick against your glistening folds.

"We're alone, but don't want to wake up the kids, ey" you nod. "So, you'll behave?" you nod again. "Good girl"

"Now, if it hurts, tell me and I'll stop"

Vander aligns himself up with your entrance, and with one deep motion, buries himself all the way to the hilt. It's almost as if he's forgotten his gentle side.

"Mphm-" you're about to scream, but his big hands cover your mouth.

"Bad girl" he tuts, "you promised"

Your back hurts, arching itself from the wood as you take all of his girth, walls squeezing him perfectly.

"Don't worry, the pain doesn't last long" he assures you, hips going back and forth softly. He picks up the pace, slowly but determined, seeing you have adjusted to his size already. "There. Take it, my girl"

He buries himself inside of you, body numb at his size and strident movements of his hips against you.

"Y-you're so b-big" you speak up for the first time in minutes, letting out another moan. "I can even feel you-"

You don't finish the sentence but the image is there, right infront of him. That only encourages him to fuck you harder, the thrusts now more brutal and violent.

"Tell me, where you feeling me?" you can't speak, so you point to your stomach. "Yeah? Filling you up so good you can't even speak?" then pounds you even harder. The pain is intense, but so is the pleasure, making you mumble more incoherences while even tears begin to well up in your eyes.

There is pressure on your lower belly, and it's not his bulge. No, you recognize it, despite having only felt it once: your orgasm is building up again. The furniture squeaks, looking like it will break under both of your weights combined, his thrusts now sloppier and messier. He was also close, grunting when your walls begin clenching around his dick.

"Fuck, Vander" you whimper out. "I think I love you"

Before he can register the weight of your words, thick ropes of cum fill up your pussy, his whole body shaking and finally succumbing to his age. He empties himself inside of you, your greedy cunt taking every drop. It's a fleeting second, but he remember Felicia, and the news she dropped that day. He thinks of a child with your eyes and his hair, the cruel world that awaits them but still can't let you waste any of his seed.

The room goes quiet as both of you try to even your breaths. After a while, your confession settles in.

"I don't think I love you" he gets down, kissing your nose gently. "I know I do. Can't deny that anymore"

The adoration on his eyes is so pure, you feel like crying again. The feelings you kept to yourself and left like crumbs for him to pick up through out this past days have finally transformed into something real. So real, your pussy still feels warm, just as your heart.

He easily carries your body on his strong arms, up to his room. You had never slept there before, and despite the numbness, you keep your eyes open, excited as a child.

"Good" you laugh, "because I was running out of ideas"