#luke askew

[lisamarie-vee]

[mariocki]

Rolling Thunder (1977)

"What the fuck are you doing?"

"I'm gonna kill a bunch of people.

[cinevisto32]

Coraje, sudor y pólvora (1972)

[zippocreed501]

Actors whose names sound like pulp novel characters:

(21) Luke Askew

[downthetubes]

Barrow's Atomica Comica Comics store announces impending closure

Bad news for Barrow-based comic fans, as their local comic shop, Atomic Comica, closes its doors

Atomica Comica Comics, a comic shop in Barrow-in-Furness has, sadly, announced it will close in July, victim to low footfall and a drop in sales. Run by Luke Askew, who had been running a comics business in the town for several years before opening the shop, the store had a loyal customer base. But in troubled times for many high streets, it sadly wasn’t big enough to sustain the store in the…

[spryfilm]

Blu-ray review: “Hurry Sundown” (1967)

“Hurry Sundown” (1967) Drama Running Time: 146 minutes Written by: Horton Foote and Thomas C. Ryan Based on Hurry Sundown by K.B. Gilden Directed by: Otto Preminger Featuring: Michael Caine, Jane Fonda, John Phillip Law, Diahann Carroll, Robert Hooks, Faye Dunaway, Burgess Meredith, Robert Reed, George Kennedy, Frank Converse, Loring Smith, Beah Richards, Madeleine Sherwood, Rex Ingram,…

[3dsben]

Layton8

One of the things to never happen

[ruivieira1950]

[kamaluhkhan]

IDLE WORSHIP

SLOTH — part i of we'll write sins not tragedies

pairing: luke castellan x nemesis! reader (afab) word count: 515 summary: you and luke fooling around on the roof of the hermes cabin after curfew ;) warnings: smut!! oral (reader receiving); body worship; luke and reader smoke weed....18+ ! author's note: i wanted to do a series of blurbs *loosely* based off the 7 deadly sins and here we are....also, i (finally!) made a masterlist so....enjoy!!

♪ "idle worship" by paramore

you bite the back of one hand to keep from waking up the entire camp, the other still holding a half-smoked joint loosely between your fingers. 

luke was always skilled, but tonight his tongue feels particularly heavenly.

it hadn’t been either of your intentions for the evening. the plan was for a peaceful night of getting high and stargazing on the roof of the hermes cabin after curfew. 

not entirely innocent, but more so than what it had become as soon as luke decides to shuffle underneath the blanket you share, lips traveling down your body as he mumbles sweet nothings into your skin.

luke kisses down your sternum, unbuttoning the flannel you had taken from him. “you’re so beautiful,” he praises. luke sucks bruises underneath your breasts. “prettier than any goddess.” his tongue traces over your scars. he bites just above your belly button, fingers fumbling with your shorts. “absolutely divine,” is the last thing he says before devouring your cunt.

in your defense…. it has been a stressful week. you and luke had barely had a moment alone, and chris warned that the weed would be strong. 

it’s slightly careless, yes, especially for senior counsellors — but fuck, if you don’t feel utterly blissed out.

you almost break skin when luke tugs your clit with his teeth, bringing you over the edge. luke pokes his head out from underneath the blanket that still covers your bottom half; you take a moment to admire him.

the moonlight softening his scar, illuminating his cheekbones and jawline. backlit by a million shining stars that mean nothing compared to his smile, luke looks like an angel. 

and then, you get a better look at him — his black curls slightly askew; his dark eyes rimmed red; his lips wet with your release, curling into a smirk at how you unraveled for him so easily. 

a fallen angel, maybe. a fucking gorgeous one at that. 

“can i have another hit?”

you take a drag of the forgotten joint, holding the smoke in your mouth until luke is hovering above you. when he presses his lips onto yours, you let him suck up all the smoke, along with whatever air is leftover in your lungs. he removes himself from you, allowing you a moment to breathe while he exhales. 

luke rests one hand on your hip, and reaches the other down to run two fingers across your folds and shoves them into his mouth, sucking like his life depends on it.  

“tastes just like nectar.”

“better be careful then, angel,” you drawl and tangle your free hand into his curls. you can tell luke likes the new nickname from the way he tightens his grip, firm enough to bruise. “if you have too much, it might just kill you.” 

he grins down at you lazily, blinking slowly.

“at least i’d die happy,” luke sighs. 

a giggle bursts out of your chest in response. 

you bring the tail end of the joint to his lips; this time, he exhales directly into your mouth, allowing you to share the last dregs of smoke.

[wlntrsldler]

poisoned mercury | lifestyles of the rich & famous

i. lifestyles of the rich and famous by good charlotte (introduction)

a/n: introductory chapter! introducing the dynamics of the band, luke's relationship with his mom, and teenage boy antics. pre-reader and pre-chb. things will pick up quickly after this, i promise! bear with me as i set the scene :)

series masterlist | previous | next

“why the fuck am i seeing tabloids on top of tabloids with my kid’s plastered face on the front page of all of them?” 

luke winced at the sound of his mom’s voice echoing through the empty event space. chris covered the bottom half of his face with his shirt, trying to hold in his laughter. may castellan was in her usual pantsuit, high heels clacking against the floor, as she waved around trashy magazines. she was furious. 

“ignoring the fact that you are not 21 years old and cannot legally drink, what were you thinking, luke?” travis dropped his drumsticks on the ground, motioning for chris and connor to follow him backstage. they’d seen luke get chewed out by his mom more often since they started their world tour. as the three boys walked toward the side of the stage, may turned to them. “none of you are off the hook either. you may not have been on the front page, but care to listen to what they said about you in one of their glorious articles?” 

“i would actually prefer not to, mama castellan,” chris mumbled, suddenly feeling caught. all traces of humor instantly drained from his face. luke couldn’t help but scoff, the boys always gave him shit for getting yelled at by his mom, so he was glad that this time around they were all on the sinking ship. 

she dramatically cleared her throat, opening up one of the magazines. luke grimaced at the sight of him on the front page. he was sitting on the curb, his sunglasses askew, with a girl awkwardly patting his back. he doesn’t even remember this. may shot daggers at chris, who was cowering behind his mic stand, “bassist of poisoned mercury, chris rodriguez, was photographed away from the band when he was caught outside smoking something that wasn’t a cigarette, if you catch our drift. hopefully, his habits don’t catch up to him anytime soon.” 

she stared at the stolls next, “drummer and lead guitarist of the rising band, travis and connor stoll, didn’t miss out on the fun. they walked out of the club with two models, who looked like twins, along with a bottle of dom perignon before heading into their suv.”

“and my darling child,” her words were sweet but her tone was anything but. luke chewed on the peeling skin of his bottom lip, “superstar, teen heartthrob, poisoned mercury lead singer, luke castellan, had a great night as seen in these pictures. the resident bad boy had one too many, it seems, as he walked out of the club stumbling with a mysterious blonde under his arm. castellan couldn’t make it into the car and had to sit on the curb to puke his guts out. let’s hope his actions didn’t ruin his chance at a budding romance.” 

may closed the magazine, arms on her hips. she waited patiently for one of the boys to speak up. 

“in our defense, this was in canada,” luke tried to reason, scrunching his face up. “legal drinking age is 18.” 

that was the wrong response, luke realized, when his mom’s eyes lit up in anger. she let out a breath, “you were in toronto where the drinking age is 19, which you weren’t until yesterday.” 

“i did not know that the drinking age in canada varied by region. i always learn something new whenever i talk to you, mama castellan,” travis said, trying to lighten the mood. connor shot him a look, motioning for him to quit talking. may castellan was clearly not in the mood for jokes. 

“i am tired of you guys acting reckless,” she roared, dropping the magazines. they fell with a heavy thud. she rubbed her temples with the pads of her fingers, “your parents trusted me to take care of you guys while you chased your dreams and this is what you’re doing under my watch?!” 

seeing his mom at her wit's end made luke feel sick. 

“mom,” luke hopped off the stage, ignoring the sound of the magazines ripping under his feet as he landed on top of them, “we’re sorry. i’m sorry.” 

“sorry’s not gonna cut it anymore, luke,” may said, shaking her head. “after this tour, you guys are taking a break. no touring, no public appearances.” 

“what?” connor exclaimed, joining luke off the stage. the other boys followed, looks of bewilderment evident on their faces. “w-we can’t take a break now!” 

“yeah, c’mon, mama c!” chris added, shaking his head, “we’re just getting really big. if we quit now, we’ll lose this momentum.”

“you’re not quitting. it’s just a tiny break– three months,” she cut them off, raising a hand in a stop. “we’ll release a statement to the press saying you guys will be taking some time off to work on your sophomore album so people have something to look forward to when you return.” 

“okay, so that’s the cover story,” luke ran a hand through his curls. he knew that there was no winning against his mom when she made up her mind. he looked at her and spoke before the rest of the band continued their protests, “but what are we actually gonna be doing?” 

“you’re going to spend your summer in montauk, just like old times,” his mom explained, voice still stern. “you’re going to camp half blood.”

-

“what the fuck is a camp half blood?” chris asked, plopping down on the couch they had inside their dressing room. rehearsal was cut short following the news delivered by luke’s mom. 

“it’s a music camp,” luke explained, fidgeting with random things sprawled across his desk, trying to find the pack of cigarettes he hid. he really needed to clean up. “my dad used to take me there over the summer when i was younger.”

the topic of luke’s dad was a sore subject for him. his dad left him and his mom when he was 7 for some young waitress from their hometown diner. one second, he was signing up for little league with his dad as the coach; the next, he was sitting in the hallway listening to his mom cry after his dad packed a bag and left town with wendy the waitress in the passenger seat. luke hasn’t heard from him since then. last he checked, his dad was lounging beachside in santa monica with his third wife who was definitely too young for him. as far as he’s concerned, his dad was dead to him. 

but he couldn’t deny that his time at camp half blood was the place of origin of some of his best childhood memories. he got his first taste of what it was like to be on stage at camp half blood; the adrenaline coursing through his veins, the pounding of his heart at the applause, the wild images in his head about what it would be like to be known for his music-- it all started at camp half blood. he was his happiest at camp, at least before his dad ruined it for him. 

“is it fun?” travis asked, twirling a fresh pair of drumsticks between his fingers. 

“used to be, yeah,” luke chuckled, hoisting himself up to sit on the desk. “haven’t been there since i was seven.” 

“dude, i do not want to hang out with a bunch of little kids all summer,” chris groaned, letting his head fall back against the wall. 

“relax, rodriguez,” luke lit a cigarette, inhaling the smoke before continuing. “there’s two sides to the camp. we’ll be with the older kids.” 

“oh shit, is camp half blood mr. d’s music camp?” connor asked. the name of the camp was starting to sound familiar to him.

luke took another drag, nodding, “that’s the one.” 

“dude, i fucking love mr. d. he always has the wildest stories,” travis laughed, “he’s so mellow and chill now, i wouldn’t’ve ever guessed he used to be like that.” 

“it was the 90’s,” chris shrugged, “pretty sure everyone was like that at one point.” 

“paid off for him though,” connor replied, opening a bag of doritos. he offered a chip to his brother, who in return, snatched the bag for himself. connor rolled his eyes, reaching over to grab another one. he was used to this. “i mean being a ceo of a multi-million dollar recording company isn’t too shabby.” 

luke hummed along, mindlessly, letting the chatter of his bandmates fill the air. the three boys fell into a conversation about the last time they saw mr. d at the recording studio when they were finishing up the vocals for their debut album, but luke’s mind was far away from the topic at hand. he couldn’t shake the feeling of disappointment from his body. he knew the way his mom looked at him would haunt him for the next few nights.

it wasn’t like he was actively trying to disappoint her– really, he wasn’t, but he just gets so caught up in the noise of fame that he forgets how to act under the pressure. there was something about his mom breaking down in front of him because of him that tore him apart. he felt guilty. his mom didn’t ask for this life, she didn’t even want it. she was content being a suburban mom in westport, connecticut, but she gave up her comfy life to let luke live out his dreams of being a musician. 

he was lucky, he knew that. not every mom would be on board with her kid dropping out of traditional high school to perform rowdy songs about teenage angst, but may castellan was okay with it because she loved luke so much and wanted him to be happy. so when poisoned mercury got a record deal with olympus records, she didn’t hesitate to drop everything and go on the road with four unruly teenagers, promising their parents that she’d take care of their sons. 

sometimes, he thinks about what his mom sees when she looks at him. he wonders if she still recognized him, the him before all the fame got to his head. 

he was may castellan’s little boy. the boy who used to beg his mom for chocolate chip cookies after a bad day at school, who used to knock on her door in the middle of the night wondering why he wasn’t enough for his dad to stay, and who cried when she got him his first guitar on his tenth birthday. for most of his life, it’s always just been him and his mom. 

now, at 19, luke didn’t know who he was anymore. he was just going with the flow, doing whatever, doing whoever, his fame and his status threw his way. he did what any teenage boy would do in his position– he drank, he smoked, he had fun, maybe too much fun, sometimes. it’s a rockstar’s life, his wildest dreams come to life, but it was a distraction, mostly. luke wasn’t brave enough to face the music just yet, so he dove into this fantasy head-first, too afraid to look back.

except sometimes, he fucks up really badly, like in toronto, and he’s forced to deal with the consequences of his actions. one time, his mom cut the band off from playing video games on the tour bus for a month after a heated argument between the four of them caused them to cancel a show. the argument was stupid. luke was adamant that scorpions did not have the same mental capacity for understanding pain that humans do and that did not bode well with travis. rehearsal ended in a brawl because travis kept doing impromptu drum solos to drown out luke’s voice. his mom was pissed that hundreds of fans were disappointed over the canceled show and it was all because they couldn’t agree over a damn scorpion. 

another time, she banned them from driving the golf carts around the venue when they crashed it into a very expensive sound system in portland. they ended up owing upwards of $4,000 for the damages and were banned from playing at the event space ever again. the four of them laughed about it when the chaos of it all subsided, and they were fine not playing at the house of hades again, but they did miss the snack bar they set up for visiting talents. chris said he still dreamt about the pomegranate juice ‘til this day. 

luke can look back at the punishments over the years fondly now. in the grand scheme of things, none of it really mattered. but going to camp half blood? this was a different type of punishment. 

luke didn’t want to go to camp half blood. the last memory he had of camp was not a welcomed one. plus, after what he experienced on tour, he could think of a million other ways to spend his summer months, and living at a camp with spotty cell service and designated arts and crafts time was nowhere near the top of the list. 

“yo, castellan,” chris’ voice snapped luke out of his thoughts. “you comin?”

luke put out his cigarette against the wood of his desk, “huh?”

“we’re grabbing food, do you wanna go with us?”

luke hopped off the desk, slipping on his black, puffer jacket, “yeah, i’m right behind you.” 

as luke was walking out of the dressing room, adjusting his t-shirt, he saw his mom talking to teddy, their publicist. they were engaged in a serious conversation, no doubt talking about the press release regarding their second album and their hiatus. luke stood in front of the door for a brief moment, a stutter in his steps, not knowing if he should interrupt.

 luke pursed his lips, deciding to jog over to his mom. 

“i think we should post it on the band accounts first before the boys announce it individually. it make–” may furrowed her eyebrows, noticing luke coming closer to her. she turned her body to face him. she looked much calmer now than she did during rehearsals, “hey, what’s wrong?” 

luke shook his head, “nothin’, mom. i just–uh, just wanted to say sorry again.”

“let’s talk later, may,” teddy gave the two of them a small smile before walking away. 

“i’m not changing my mind about camp half blood,” she frowned. “sorry, luke but i can’t have you guys running around all sum–”

“no, no, i know, mom. i-i didn’t come here to try to convince you,” luke looked down at his feet, suddenly feeling like a little boy again. “i just– uh, shit. okay, i’m sorry for toronto. it was a bad time and it’s not fair that you have to deal with the fall out of our shit. and uh– thank you for sticking by us even though we drive you kinda crazy.” 

may laughed, smiling at her son, “you’re my kid. you know i’ll always be there to set you straight.” 

“thanks, mom,” luke chuckled, backing away to catch up with his bandmates. may waved goodbye, making her way to teddy’s makeshift office. before luke left the tunnel, he turned around, “wait mom! last thing!” 

she raised her eyebrows, “what?” 

luke raised his hand in a thumbs-up motion, grinning from ear to ear, “love you!” 

“i love you too, kiddo,” may replied, a hand over her heart. “now scram, i gotta clean up your mess.” 

[murdrdocs]

been thinking about luke fucking you on the beach in the sand tbh - like you’re whining about the sand on your back and he grips your jaw and forces your mouth open with his thumb so that he can spit in your mouth 😳🤭

cw spitting; MDNI

you're trying your hardest to enjoy the rock of luke's hips against yours.

it's a perfect scene to revel in it. with nothing but the soft chirp of birds and the soothing crash of waves against the shore a little ways away creating the perfect background noise, an amplifier for the soft and pretty grunts coming from luke's lips.

it's supposed to be romantic. maybe. at least you think that's what luke was going for. but any possible romanticism is lost along the sand grating at your back, exfoliating your skin in a way you would've appreciated if it weren't for your never ending concerns.

"luke." the sound of your voice makes your boyfriend hesitate.

eventually, he hums. with attitude, you don't fail to recognize.

"i think the sand's gonna–" you don't even have to finish your complaint before luke's adjusting your position. he sits on his haunches and pulls you closer by your hips, resuming his pace by thrusting up into you slowly, not at all deterred by having to hold your lap onto his and fuck you at the same time.

"better?" he asks, that same sass still heavy in his tone.

you hum appreciatively, closing your eyes and letting your mouth drop open in a sigh as luke nudges against a spot previously left unattended to.

you're placated, just for a bit, and that bit ends quickly when you're once again made aware of the grains against your upper back, likely making their way into your already ruined hair.

you groan, low and deep in your throat.

"luke," you whine, eyes open in a squint as you hold a hand up to block the suns glare. your unobstructed view is of luke staring down at you, eyes dark with frustration and his lips twisted into annoyance. a look you recognize well, one he's given you many times when you've danced on his nerves without any second thoughts.

your lips part, preparing to complain yet again. but that's all cut short when luke hooks his thumb into your mouth, the calloused tip pressing onto your pink muscle enough for him to pull your jaw down.

he purses his lips and you watch the glob of spit travel for a second before it lands in your mouth just slightly askew. tending to the remnants that landed on the outside, luke removes his thumb and glides it along your lip as if it's nothing but chapstick.

you don't have to be told to swallow. but you do have to be told to behave.

"will you shut up and let me make you feel good?"

although he poses it as one, it's definitely not a question.

[stareiiez]

𝐇𝐨𝐫𝐬𝐞𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐞𝐬

sylus x female reader.

content : adult cis female reader. love and deepspace. indie portrayal of sylus. suggestive content. luke and kieran appearance! sex references. drinking. smut in later chapter. MDNI. 4.3k words. proof read to the best of my tired eyes.

note: returning just to post this! college and homework has had me busy and focused on other things!! sorry! this is just part one of this sylus one shot! part two is where it'll really ! get! juicy :) hope y'all like drunk sex.

likes and reblogs are loved and appreciated!

Your first-ever date with the leader of the Onychinus was something you didn't ever picture.

Being kidnapped and forced to stay with your kidnapper who wanted you to resonate with him so badly for whatever reason he didn't feel inclined to reveal to you or his henchmen; was never something you pictured to happen in all of your lives of living. To put the cherry on top of it, said kidnapper had made a date for you too to partake in.

Sylus, the man who kidnapped you and now the bane of your annoyance, had invited you out to this date. The way he even ' asked you out ' had been through both Luke and Kieran bursting into your room. Luke had parted the thick blackout curtains to let glorious shades of gold and yellows of morning sunlight stream into your room, and perfectly hit the folds of your eyelids. You groaned in response, an arm falling over your eyes to save you from blinding yourself. Kieran took the liberty of yanking away plush blankets and satin sheets away from your warm body with a grumble of ' get up.' leaving his mouth.

" Boss has plans for you!" Luke chirped, sliding to his twin's side. Cool pointy fingertips prodded at the cheeks of your face in insistent pokes. Sylus decided to announce his plans to the twins at the crack of dawn and make them wake you early so you wouldn't forget. Lovely.

" Tell your ' boss ' I don't care." Your voice is muffling into your plush pillow when you roll over onto your stomach and hide your face and morning breath into its soft material. One of your hands reaches blindly behind you for the blankets that Kieran pulled off your bed.

" Can't, he won't be back till later. Come on lazy bones, let's get up and be ready for the day." Luke chirps again, his fingers pinching at the swell of your calves sharply. Your skin flushes red and stings lightly, no matter how hard you try to wriggle out from his persistent fingers, you still manage to get pinched into giving in and rising from your bare mattress.

Your eyes sag at the corners, exhaustion still present on your face. Your hair is askew in some parts and matted in other parts of your skull. First, you look like you slept and woke up like the dead. Grumpy and craving more shut-eye. '

"Yeesh." Kieran comments. His hidden eyes look at you and your rumpled sleep clothing up and down. Luke nods in silent agreement.

You yawn, and a hand runs through your knotted hair. Not sparing either twin a rebuttal to their judgement, and Luke's faux fear of the smell of morning breath when you walk past both to meander to the luxuriously large themed bathroom of your bedroom. It's not like you're a morning person. You could have sworn Sylus assumed it when he spotted you late one night, in his floor-to-ceiling library; perusing the expanse of perfectly kept novels for you to read by the fireplace. Maybe this was just his way of driving another thorn, including the hundreds he's embedded into your skin, into your side just for amusement. Mephisto would have been the first to tell him how pissed off you were this morning to be woken up at the first light.

Another yawn stretched your jaw wide as you cranked on the hottest temperature of water you could handle and peeled off the satin sleep set Sylus had gifted you to wear to bed. Your eyes threatened to shut under the steamy stream of water from the rain showerhead. You were so warm, unfortunately wet, but so warm and comfortable under the gentle stream.

Hot water dripped down in tantalizing rivulets down your shoulders and back, head bowing down to tuck your chin towards your chest. Your weight swayed back and forth ever so slightly before you would catch yourself from leaning too far to one side. You could have started to fall back asleep standing up if it wasn't for the thundering rounds of knocking from the twins once again. Four sets of strong knuckles rapping against thick black wood was the sound of gunshots to your sensitive ears. A yelp escaped your lips, feet jumping and threatening to slip out from underneath your body when you were startled awake for the second time this morning. You rapidly blinked water out of your eyes.

"Hey! Did you die? Breakfast is getting cold." Luke's muffled voice called out. "You've been in there for almost an hour, you're not a plant." Have you been in there that long? Perhaps you did end up falling asleep in the shower after all. A woman of many talents.

The rest of your shower was done rather quickly. The sweet scent of expensive soaps and shampoos followed you to breakfast. Your hair was still wet and clinging to the soft fabric of your hunter's shirt when you arrived for breakfast. The grumbling of your stomach and the constant half-baked fear that Luke and Kieran would burst into your room to bother you one more time had left you rushing through the halls of Sylus's home just to eat.

Breakfast and even lunch passed by without much trouble from the twins once you gave in to their cumbersome ways of making sure you ate plenty. Lunch was quiet, only you sat at the end of Sylus's extensive dining room table. The air about the dining room seemed lonely, way too lonely for you to shovel another bite of one of the delectable foods made specifically to your palate's tastes. No matter how much you tried to coerce the butler to sit with you, every time he came to refill the multiple glasses of water and or juices, he always denied your pleas to sit and join you with a simple smile and a shake of his head. The tails of his petticoat and the clipping of shiny shoes on the cold tile made you realize that you had nobody. You were a prisoner locked away in a remote fancy prison cell, while the guards that watched over you pretended to be your friends so that you could warm up to their big bad boss.

Your fork twirled between your fingers, her cheek propped on your other hand as you gazed out of the floor-to-ceiling window. The views of the N109 zone stared back at you with its gleaming lights and ominous red fog that seemed to settle as a skyline for the dangerous city. The warm rays of the afternoon sun didn't affect the eerie look of the cold-looking skyscrapers. Daylight didn't belong in a zone that held nothing but crime and dark things that humanity wouldn't think twice about committing.

"Why so sad, kitten? Missing me already?" A dark timber voice practically rattled your eardrums. Whoever spoke to you, was so close you could smell nothing but expensive cologne, the sharp notes of red wine, and clean leather. Sylus.

"You wish. " You mumble, brows furrowing at the ends to portray your frustration even if Sylus can see your blush-ridden cheeks. You look so cute trying to play off your embarrassment.

Sylus's brows raise, and his pretty red lips turn into a shit-eating smirk that doesn't wipe away from his features even when he takes a step back and stands to the full height of his stature. His right hand extends out towards you. "Let's go. We have lots to do today, kitten."

You eye his hand, lips puffed out into a pout for a second till you sigh. Brows relax and your shoulders drop with the air that leaves your lungs. You accept his hand wordlessly, letting him pull you to your feet. He doesn't waste any time pulling you along after him and his long-legged strides. The clip of his expensive shoes and the faster clacks of your steps trying to catch up to him tenfold fill the empty halls of the base.

"When you said we had-- "

air quotes are given sarcastically with your fingers.

" lots to do today."

end air quote.

" You didn't mention we'd be dealing with him again." Your hands gesture out, dramatically motioning to the tall and strongly built all-midnight black Alhal-Teke horse that was one of Sylus's prized possessions. His tail swished at non-existent flies that buzzed over his gorgeous sleek body. Horse poop, sweat and sawdust floated in the breeze, irritating your sinuses enough to sniffle every now and then.

The stallion regarded you with a frill of his nostrils, blowing hot hay-scented air at your face. He was so pleased to see you too. Glad the feeling was mutual.

After the last encounter with the stubborn animal made up to be called a horse, you had the pleasure of knowing firsthand what it was like to attempt to tame his master afterward. Needless to say, you couldn't quite look at Sylus in the eye for a few days after. The vivid dreams of the rich leather of both collar and whip still haunted your senses in your sleep. The sharp intake of breath and shuddery exhale Sylus let out as the only noises he ever granted you when you traced up and down the expanse of his chest and abdomen with the cropping whip. You shivered visibly in the warm air. Goosebumps raced up your arms at the echoes of Sylus's voice, promising you to ke

Your head shakes from side to side, ridding you of such dark and unclean thoughts. You shouldn't reminisce now, not in front of such curious red eyes that watch your every move with precise calculations. The ends of his lips curl upwards in a minute smirk like he can sense what you're thinking about. Annoying.

"Are you testing me again on how to tame a horse again? I thought we were over this." With subtly laced pink cheeks, you turn your gaze from eyeing the ornery horse to gazing at Sylus. Your hands plant onto your hips.

"Silly kitty." Sylus purrs down at you like you were a wide-eyed child. His tone was slightly patronizing yet the strangest inkling of unnerving comfort. His eyes flick towards the sounds of approaching hoof steps and another set of boots crunching dirt under the soles.

A stablekeeper, you guess, walks up to the two of you. In a pristinely kept white glove, leather reins gently pull a snowy white horse to follow the steps of the unknown man. Braided mane and tail swish with every step shiny black hooves take. Needless to say, the horse looks unreal; like every pretty princess pony young girls dream about owning when they're little.

"Right on time," Sylus says once the stablekeeper comes to a stop at his side. The reins of the white horse are held out to you wordlessly, a polite smile in greeting is on the man's mouth. "Take them, I'm going easy on you this time."

You glance at the snowy white horse, unlike the headstrong and stubborn demon incarnate stallion that Sylus adorns with soft pats and low coos to please the black stallion. The other horse is kind-looking, pretty long white lashes blink delicately at you. Piebald eyes of brown and blue watch you with no harmful intent, only slight curiosity about who you are and what exactly you smell like. She was the yin to the stallion's yang. Two drastic differences between light and dark.

"Her name is Lucero," Sylus says when you finally accept the reins from the stablekeeper's hands, and he departs as he comes. Quiet. "Luce for short if it's easier."

One of your hands reaches out, open palm face up so the mare could sniff you. Your lips curl upwards and a short giggle escapes at the tickling sensation of white horse whiskers sweeping over your hand. Hot hair blows over your hand in a friendly exhale, and Luce raises her dainty head. Shiny hooves take a few steps forward on her own to you, her muzzle bumps at your cheek. A friendly greeting, something you wish could have happened when you met Sylus's horse.

"Good, she likes you. Let's mount up, we have a little while to go before sunset." Sylus interrupts the bonding moment of rider and horse by placing a riding helmet onto your head so quickly you don't even get a moment to protest at being able to buckle your helmet yourself because he does it for you. The strap borderline chokes you from how tight he tugged at the helmet straps, but it's better safe than sorry for riding three-ton animals.

He wastes no time in swinging himself onto the sleek leather English saddle. His helmet crushes his hair to his head. A riding crop, perhaps the same one you dreamed of using on him, is tucked neatly into his armpit. He looks so natural atop the steed.

You follow suit. Swinging yourself effortlessly into the sun warmed riding saddle, the reins held between your hands. Your brows lift quizzically at him. "Where are we even go-- hey!" Sylus doesn't give you the chance to finish your question, both rider and mount are cantering away; not bothering to look over his shoulder to see if you're following behind because of course, you are.

With a clicking of your tongue and a squeeze of your calves to the round sides of the mare, you break into a matching stride to catch up and ride side by side with him.

There isn't much talking when it comes to the actual horseback riding. You doubt you would even have heard of the almost synchronized beating of horse hooves thudding along thigh-high grassy fields. Sylus seemed to be in his little world. You could swear your eyes saw the way his face softened and let himself exhale in contentment at the continuous rocking ups and downs of the stallion's gait. He wordlessly guided you both through the unmarked fields, the racing track already far behind you both, and through a pebble-riddled trickling brook of water then further into more grassy dips and curves of the land.

The spray of cool water droplets splashed onto your cheeks and clothes. You couldn't help but let out a gasp at the sudden cool sens

Sylus couldn't help but smile to himself at your reaction. The way your lips parted in a shocked ' O ' formation, your right hand parting from the leather reins to shield your face from another spray of cool water flying off the hooves of the stallion he rode. You looked so cute. Not cute, that wasn't the right wording to describe it in this angle and this exact moment of lighting. You looked . . ethereal? gorgeous? breathtaking?

"Beautiful." his words decided to flow from his mouth rather than stay rooted in the recesses of his brain. He spoke them into the universe and the slowly turning golden rays of sunbeams that kissed your cheeks and eyes when they flitted over to him. Your pupils are minuscule and swim in the lightened colors of your irises.

This was falling in love all over again. He felt this feeling before. In another body, in another time. In another century of dark demons and another girl that looked exactly like you with a slightly different name. But this was you, his pretty kitten.

Thankfully you couldn't hear him, the moment of his was cut short thanks to his stallion kicking out his hind legs; like he could sense Sylus' wandering thoughts and rounded eyes of warm syrupy adoration.

"Easy, boy. You're still cherished by me." A warm leather-bound hand patted the sweat-slicked neck of the horse.

The horses slowed to an easy trot when the fields of green grew even longer blades of grass that tickled at the bottoms of your boots. They'd come up to your waist, or tops of your thighs once you would slide off the horses. Finally, since it was quiet enough to talk amid the heavy snorts of winded horses. Your head turns to fully address Sylus with your previous question.

"So, where are we going? Or is this just an act to finally get rid of me since we can't resonate?" Half teasing the leader. You let a brow raise. If that was true? What a serene way to go out, not that you wouldn't die fighting. But you couldn't ask for a better place of scenery to draw in your final breath.

"Up there, don't you see it?" Sylus gestures up ahead with a gloved palm, where dips and rises of the fields finally swell to a gentle incline of a grassy hill. A large oak tree sits rooted in the rich soil.

A deep crimson-colored blanket lays strewn on the ground under the cooling shade of the tree. Adorning the blanket was an expensive bottle of champagne chilling in an ice bucket. An array of meats, berries, sweet chocolates, crackers, and cheeses sit on a carved board of wood. A small container containing a few slices of rich cake consisting of differing flavors and frostings sat in the middle of the large board of wood. Faux candle lights are scattered around the borders of the blanket, giving little light to set an intimate mood for the two of you. Who knew the man was into finger foods? Not you.

Your breath catches, unknowing that your eyes rounded in awe when you two rode closer to the supposed romantic scene Sylus went out of his way to prepare. Was this the plan the twins awoke you for so early? Did they help their boss pick out cute charcuterie foods to share between you two while gazing into each other's eyes? Your cheeks warm at the scene playing in your head of the three men, consulting in the large kitchen back at the Onichynus base. Discussing what foods were trending that couples were eating together, and where exactly would be a good setting to enjoy it.

"Sylus--" Your words fall out breathlessly, oblivious to how the male had reached over to grasp at the reins of your horse with one hand; and with the other, he steered his stallion around the less steep side of the hill to ride on. Your fingers blindly reach out to bat at his large hand, you can steer yourself even if you're in mild shock.

Another ploy just to gain your trust? Maybe, but you somewhat doubt the intention behind this impromptu picnic. Sylus slides out of his saddle when the two of you crest the top of the hill, his right-hand goes to reach up between his horse's ears to pull the English bridle off. The stallion snorts, shaking his long elegant mane of midnight, dark eyes blink at your mare; seemingly waiting for you to slide off and unbridle her so they can graze together in peace.

Sylus moves to your side, one hand reaching out to offer his help; the other unbridling the snowy mare with the ease of his skilled fingers. You don't turn his hand down, not that you have a choice because he takes your hand in his anyway even when you hesitate to accept such help. He's pulled you down from your saddle with enough force to have you tumbling into his arms and bumping into his strong chest. The smell of wine and rich leather only gets stronger with the proximity.

"Must I do everything for you? You make me feel like I'm your caretaker right now." His chest rumbles against yours, his voice quiet. Words whispering darkly against the shell of your ear. Even if he was taunting you, you wouldn't be able to properly comprehend it. Not when you catch his eyes lowering to the curve of your jaw and sweeping along the pout of your lips.

He takes extra long to undo the buckle of your riding helmet, his pinky and ring finger stroking along the small bump of your chin with feather-like touches that make your skin twitch pleasantly.

Sylus retracts, tucking both helmets under an arm each he strides to the picnic spread. The helmets are placed down at a spare corner of the blanket with such care, then join them by sitting down in one free spot on the blanket. His long legs are tucked languidly together, while he reaches for the bottle of champagne.

The ends of his lips quirk upwards when you take the glass from him, and bring the tart but fizzy alcohol to your lips for a long sip. The bubbles make your nose tingle, you can feel them in your sinuses. To Sylus, you look so cute he could push you down and eat you whole right here. The sweet little picnic he and the twins laid out ahead of time would be forgotten, the main course and sweet desserts would be every inch of your body.

Instead, he sweeps his arm out to you; another invitation for you to indulge yourself while he picks at the food like a bird would. He's more like Mephisto than you even know. Your legs fold underneath you, sitting across from the male. One hand still holding your half-full glass of bubbly, the other reaching for a crisp slice of bread that's smeared with salty homemade butter. It tastes like heaven on your tingling tastebuds. You chew thoroughly, eyes flicking shyly to avoid Sylus's intense gaze and watch the two horses standing side by side grazing in contentment.

What a picture-perfect view. In Sylus's eyes once again, the light illuminates your side profile in a sunkissed golden hue. The shine of golden rays on your hair makes you look like a halo is forming above your head. An angel is in the presence of a monstrous demon of a man, who watches the precious creature with a dark possessive light in his pupils.

His flute of champagne rises to his lips. The alcohol is drained in a matter of two gulps, and his glass is being refilled in no time. You're oblivious to his staring, seemingly still uncomfortable with trying to fill the caverns of silence that radiate in the air between you two. You pick at the charcuterie board, grabbing at one of the fruits that are sweetened with a thin coating of powdered sugar on top.

"Penny for your thoughts?" You quip, your voice trying not to break when you turn to meet those sharp vermillion eyes eyeing the tart strawberry you hold to your lips. His eyes are hawklike over the rim over the glass's rim.

Instead of answering the shitty excuse of small talk, Sylus quirks one brow upward. He reaches out one of his hands to grasp at your wrist and yanks you forward hard enough to send you careening forward onto your knees and into his personal space. Your hand that held the strawberry is held in a grip that screams you shouldn't pull away from him without risking your shoulder or elbow popping. His damp lips brush over the bend of your fingers, and his warm breath fans over the back of your hand in a slow exhale. You can't help but let the flush of pretty pink and rose to stain the apples of your cheeks when Sylus hums down at you.

His lips parted to reveal the glimmering white teeth that remind you of a predator's. He could lunge forward and sink those pretty teeth that smile in those unfortunate businessmen's faces before he rips them apart. Whether with his mouth or evol, he would be your undoing; and currently one of them is teasing the tips of your fingers when he sinks them into the berry for a bite. Red juice trickles down the plump bow of his bottom lip, then runs off the sharp edge of his chin. Sin incarnate is showing in the way Sylus maintains eye contact when he pulls back, chewing the sweet and semi-tart strawberry with red staining his skin. His tongue swipes over his bottom lip to catch stray berry juice and you feel chills run down your spine from the sight.

He doesn't wipe his chin, perhaps he likes it messy like that. It fits him. His eyes twinkle in knowing that he has you trying to suppress the urge to shiver weakly at something so innocent. After all, he does have the right to share this spread of food with you, this was his plan after all.

But how the hell can you last the rest of your time here, when he keeps looking at you like that?

[thewriterowl]

Luke: I’m sure talking and a little flirting with that DILF Mandalorian won’t turn into anything. He’s way out of my league and he is clearly busy with other things. *Literally 24-Hours Later*

Luke, now naked, on a broken bed, a big Mandalorian snoozing on top of him, adoption papers askew on a table, and a wedding necklace on, blinking at the ceiling: Well, that escalated quickly

[capquinn]

Dad quinn with jack and luke having a tea party with his daughter and her dolls and she makes them dress up

The living room was chaos, but the good kind. The kind that came from his three-year-old daughter holding court in the middle of her very serious tea party, complete with a floral blanket as a tablecloth and a tiny ceramic tea set she insisted on arranging herself.

Quinn sat cross-legged on the floor, wearing a glittery plastic tiara that he’d forgotten about five minutes in. It was second nature by now — dressing up, playing along, doing whatever made her smile.

Across from Quinn, Luke was in his element, completely at ease in the whirlwind of pretend tea and glittering accessories. His niece was perched on his lap, her tiny hands carefully tipping the toy teapot toward a ceramic cup he held with exaggerated precision. The pink feather boa draped around his neck kept slipping off one shoulder, but he didn’t seem to notice. Or if he did, he leaned into the ridiculousness of it, readjusting it dramatically like it was part of some royal decree. Every flourish, every goofy movement was aimed at one thing: making her laugh.

And it worked.

She leaned against his chest, giggling so hard she nearly tipped the teapot too far. Her tiny fingers clutched the handle as she steadied herself, her cheeks flushed from laughter. 

“Uncle Lukey!” she squealed, her voice full of joy. “You’re spilling it!”

Luke gasped as if he’d committed the gravest of sins. 

“Oh no!” he said, sitting up straighter and clutching the cup like it held liquid gold. “Quick, pour me more so no one notices!”

She threw her head back in a fresh wave of giggles, her whole body shaking against him. Still grinning, Luke reached out to steady her little wrist as she tilted the teapot with a seriousness that belied the fact it was empty.

“Perfect,” he said as she finished, his tone so genuine it could have been mistaken for awe. “You’re a natural. The Queen of Tea Parties.”

Her laughter bubbled up again, spilling into the room as she beamed at him. Luke’s grin only widened, the softness in his gaze unmistakable as he looked at her. He had a knack for this — for making her feel like she was the most important person in the room, for meeting her imagination with an endless well of his own. She adored him, and the feeling was mutual, clear in every playful quip and dramatic gesture.

She turned the teapot upright with a decisive nod, then leaned back against his chest, sighing contentedly. 

“You’re silly,” she declared, her voice full of the kind of affection only a three-year-old could manage.

Luke chuckled, tapping her nose lightly. “Only for you, kiddo.”

Quinn felt a warmth settle in his chest as he watched them. Moments like this didn’t come often enough, not with the way their lives constantly pulled them in different directions. But seeing Luke lean so completely into her little world, his every exaggerated move drawing out her laughter, made Quinn pause. It was simple, but it meant everything.

Meanwhile, Jack lounged nearby, his legs stretched out in front of him, a toy teacup balanced precariously on his knee. The sequinned cowboy hat his niece had insisted he wear sat slightly askew on his head, and every few minutes, he’d reach up to adjust it with an exaggerated flourish, earning a giggle from her each time.

“Do I get any of this famous tea,” he drawled, leaning back on his elbows, “or is Lukey keeping it all for himself?”

Now standing beside the table with her tiny teapot, she paused to give him a pointed look, one hand on her hip. “Uncle Jack,” she said seriously, though the sparkle in her eyes gave her away, “you have to ask nicely.”

Jack gasped, sitting up straight.

“Oh, excuse me, Your Royal Highness,” he said, bowing his head deeply and holding out his teacup with dramatic flair. “May I please have a cup of the finest tea in the land?”

She beamed, clearly delighted, and wiggled off Luke’s lap to pour him a fresh cup. 

“You’re lucky I made extra,” she teased, the way he always did, her little voice full of pride.

Jack accepted it with a grin, bowing his head slightly in mock grandeur. 

“Why, thank you, m’lady,” he said, taking an exaggerated sip before smacking his lips. “Best tea I’ve ever had. Five stars. Nope! Ten stars.”

She giggled, covering her mouth with her tiny hand as she bounced on her toes. “Ten stars?”

“Easily,” Jack replied, settling back into his seat. “Lukey’s tea doesn’t even come close. You’re the pro.”

Her eyes lit up, and she leaned in, her voice dropping to a dramatic whisper. “Uncle Lukey doesn’t put magic in it.”

Jack let out a warm laugh, low and genuine, reaching out to pull her in for a quick hug. 

“Well, that explains it,” he said, his tone conspiratorial. “No wonder your tea’s the best.”

Her giggles bubbled up even more, and she pressed her forehead against his shoulder for a moment, basking in the playfulness of it all. Jack’s teasing smirk softened as he glanced down at her, the fondness in his expression unmistakable. 

“You’re the best, you know that?” He ruffled her hair gently, his tone quiet but full of affection. 

Her face lit up even brighter at his words, her teapot clutched tightly in her small hands. 

Quinn’s lips tugged into a smile, his heart swelling at the sight of his brothers playing along so easily, so naturally. This wasn’t a rare thing — his brothers adored her — but it wasn’t often they were all together like this. The laughter, the goofy costumes, the tiny teacups… It was exactly what he hoped she’d remember when she grew up. Not the big things, but this: the love that filled a room when she brought everyone together.

“Daddy, you didn’t drink your tea,” her little voice piped up, breaking through his thoughts. 

She stood in front of him, her tiny frame impossibly determined as she held out a fresh cup, the seriousness in her expression almost making him laugh.Quinn smiled, reaching out to take the cup. 

“Oh no, Bug, I can’t believe I forgot,” he said, his voice soft and playful as he brought the tiny cup to his lips, pretending to sip. He made a quiet, exaggerated sound of satisfaction. “Mmm, perfect. You’re the best tea-maker in the whole wide world.”

Her serious expression melted away into a bright smile, and before he could say another word, she leaned in, wrapping one arm around his shoulder in that shy, affectionate way little kids do when they’re basking in a compliment. Her cheek pressed to his temple as her fingers brushed the back of his neck.

“Thanks, Daddy,” she murmured, her voice small and sweet, and Quinn felt his chest tighten in the best way.

He turned his head just enough to press a kiss to the top of her head, his hand gently steadying the tiny arm she had draped around his neck. 

“Love you, Buggy,” he murmured, the words soft but carrying a weight of tenderness that he knew she couldn’t fully understand yet, though someday she would.

She giggled, that sweet, unfiltered sound that always tugged at his heart, and pulled back slightly to meet his gaze. Her wide eyes shone with delight before she spun around, skipping off to Luke’s lap with all the confidence in the world, her little crown wobbling precariously with each bounce.

He leaned back slightly, letting the moment wash over him. Luke was helping her fix a doll’s hat now, while Jack balanced the tiny teacup on the tip of his finger. His daughter’s giggles bubbled up again, spilling through the room like sunshine, and Quinn thought to himself — not for the first time — how lucky he was.

[leahwllmsn]

happy august😔🤘

happy august indeed… you can have this barely finished august pt.2 😶

‘tis the damn season

there’s an ache in you put there by the ache in me

The last time Alessia heard your name was during your last match at the Emirates after you decided that you were leaving Arsenal. Jonas called out your name once the match ended and there you were, a bright smile and an expression full of relief, as you made your way around the stadium to wave goodbye to everyone.

Alessia remembered it so vividly; the girl of her dreams, all dressed up in her favourite color.

Alessia was sure she fell in love with the color red even more after you.

Now, two years later, you were on the other side of the world. You didn’t keep in touch—why would you? You two were never friends. We were just fuck buddies, Alessia finally told Lotte a few months after you left to the NWSL. It didn’t come as a shock to Lotte, especially since she claimed that she often saw you exit Alessia’s house or the subtle marks around Alessia’s neck even though her boyfriend wasn’t around.

Alessia was sad and mopey and her heart longed for you and she didn’t know how she let it all go. That was mainly why Alessia packed her bags and moved away from London, anything to escape the place that held so many memories of you.

Georgia was waiting for her in Munich, welcoming Alessia with open arms and allowing her to crash on her couch until Alessia found a place. And after a few weeks of sleeping on a crappy couch (no offense to Georgia), Alessia finally found a place not too far away. It wasn’t as good as her place in London, but it was enough for her.

Looking around her flat, Alessia realized that despite you never stepping foot there, Alessia could still see traces of you around and Alessia figured that must be the universe’s way of making her pay for breaking the heart of the sweetest girl Alessia had ever met. Alessia’s hoodie that you once said was your favourite laid askew on the couch. The autographed Luke Combs CD you bought for her was hung on the wall of the living room, along with a painting that Alessia had no idea who it was by—only that it was your favourite artist. And the only picture you both took together was framed and placed on the nightstand next to Alessia’s bed so it was always the first thing she saw when she woke up.

Despite the million traces of you around, Alessia didn’t know what you were up to, none of your mutual friends were brave enough to bring you up.

So it was a surprise that after two years, she finally heard your name again on a Friday night.

She had a photoshoot with Adidas, apparently the photographer adored you. James couldn’t stop talking about you, listing all the great qualities you had (like Alessia didn’t know them by heart already), and offhandedly mentioning how this Adidas campaign will include a couple of footballers—one of them being you.

Alessia couldn’t help but wonder if James talked about her to you too. She couldn’t help but wonder if your heart stopped at the mention of her name, like she did with yours.

Alessia couldn’t help but wonder if the reminder of her weighed heavy on your heart, because she knew the further James talked about you, the more Alessia wanted to rip her chest open at how suffocating it all felt.

-

That night Alessia decided to finally look at your Instagram page. It was a miracle that you didn’t block her.

Your picture was of you smiling, your hair in a loose braid, you were glowing and you were still the prettiest girl Alessia had ever seen.

Her hand was itching to type up a ‘Hello’, to ask how you were. But Alessia knew better than to do something so stupid—something so selfish.

And as she was about to close the app, a picture caught her eye.

Of course you had moved on. It would be crazy that someone as amazing as you didn’t have a million people lining up for you.

You moved on. That was good. Alessia couldn’t possibly take away your happiness once again.

Alessia wondered where you would be today if she chose to stay that day. If Alessia didn’t leave you all alone when you were begging her to stay.

Maybe you would both still be in London together, maybe you would be right there next to her, sleeping soundly in your bed together, your arms draped around Alessia’s stomach as she watched some reality show on the TV.

Shaking the thoughts away, Alessia immediately put her phone away and willed herself to sleep.

Alessia dreamt of waking up to your long hair against the pillow next to hers. The disappointment in her chest when she woke up alone made her long for something that had always been out of reach.

[thedroneranger]

A Little Time Alone

Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw

Précis: Bradley and his wife have been busy with everything except each other.

Note: One of two entires for @roosterforme’s #love is in the air tgm love song playlist challenge. This fic is inspired by Luke Comb's The Kind of Love We Make.

Warnings: 18+ only, smut.

Word count: 3.7k

It had been weeks since we spent any time together. 

Between the new curriculum and latest batch of pilots, I was coming home late every night and leaving early every morning.

At first, she was doing her damnedest to stay up until I got home. Each night, before sliding into bed, I would slip her tablet from her clutches and remove her askew reading glasses, placing both on her nightstand. Once I settled into bed, unconsciously, she would snuggle into me, allowing me to fall asleep with a smile.

However, lately, it was clear she had been sleeping for hours. Tucked into bed, fast asleep with just her hair peeking between the bedding. I would slide into my side and do my best not to disturb her.

Each morning, I didn’t leave without giving her a goodbye kiss, but guilt always edged my decision to not wake her. Instead, I would press my lips to her forehead or cheek, whichever was exposed.

Things seemed to take a turn after her plan to surprise me with lunch on base was foiled. Normally, she would coordinate with Maverick, if he were around, or the security guard she had befriended to sneak into my office with sandwiches from our favorite deli.

Of course, she always wore a dress, which made it easy for me to bend her over my desk for a pleasurable finish. 

We had a text code so I knew to expect her. The last time she plotted a lunchtime date, I, unbeknownst, stood her up. Unable to check my texts all morning, I never saw her message and never went to my office. It wasn’t until later in the evening I saw several messages and a couple missed calls. 

I was devastated and wanted to apologize in person. However, she was always asleep when I got home. I even tried to call a few times during the day, but I never managed to catch her. After that, we exchanged fewer and fewer texts throughout each day. 

Even our weekends had been spent separately. I found myself on base more and more for special events and training. Hell, the last couple weekends, I even slept there.

She, on the other hand, has been a godsend, representing us both at family get-togethers and other personal events.

I can only imagine how she felt, likely making up excuses for my lack of presence.

The whole situation made me absolutely miserable.

“Bradley. Bradley. Bradley!” My head jerked to find Maverick intensely staring at me.

“Yeah, Mav?” I coughed to clear my throat and gave him my full attention.

He and I were alone in his office. Maverick and I were co-instructors for an upcoming class. We were going over the lesson plan when my thoughts drifted. “What’s on your mind, Bradley?” Mav put down his pen, leaned back in his chair and looked at me.

Shifting in my chair, I noticed the tension in my shoulders and that I’d been holding my breath. Subtly untensing, I spoke. “I can’t remember the last time I spent time with my wife, and she’s getting distant.”

Maverick leaned forward. He loved her like a daughter. Actually, I was convinced he liked her more than me. Mav was always reminding me not to let work ruin our relationship. 

Not that he had room to talk. 

Although, he and Penny have appeared rock solid since getting back together. Once Maverick proposed and they wed, Penny was the happiest I’ve ever seen her.

“Bradley—”

I cut off Mav. “I know, I know. Don’t fuck it up.”

“Go home,” he said.

“What?” My eyebrow cocked.

“Go home. Report back on Monday,” Mav said. We stared at each other for almost a full minute. “Go fix it.” The tone in Mav’s voice told me he was about to make it an order, so I nodded, gave a quick salute and dashed out.

Not having been home at a decent hour in nearly a month, I forgot what traffic was like. It had me doubting if I would be home any earlier than as of late. 

Her vehicle was in the driveway when I finally pulled up.

My feet were carrying me faster than my brain was processing. My mind was trying to get my hands under control so I could get the key in the door, when the door flung open.

A gasp left her lips as our gazes locked. “Hey, stranger.” She did her best to hide a smirk. Unfazed, I walked toward her, forcing her to back up and allow me into the house. Once far enough in, I closed the door. 

“Hey,” I replied. My eyes raked across her form. She was wearing a short red sundress and some strappy sandals. My cock twitched. I could not recall the last time I saw her in anything other than our fluffy duvet. 

“I should go—I don’t want to be late.” She walked toward me and got on her toes to kiss my cheek. However, I turned my head and captured her lips with mine. She hesitated for a second, but melted into me as I wrapped an arm around her waist and the other hugged her ribcage. Her hand slid from my bicep up to my neck. 

We separated just enough to look into each other’s eyes. “I hate that I forgot what you feel like,” she said. 

The comment made me hold her tighter. “We can’t have that,” I said as a matter of fact. Her eyebrow and lips quirked. I smiled at her. “I’ve been missing you more than you can imagine,” I confessed.

She was still looking at me with a tight smile. “I may have an idea.” She pursed her lips and looked off the side. Then, she looked back at me and pressed her lips to mine. As we kissed, I uncoiled an arm from around her, so I could reach back to lock the door.

She heard the click. “I have to go,” she said with her lips still against mine. 

Again, we separated just enough to look at one another. “Cancel.” My voice was more demanding than either of us expected. She looked surprised but not offended. “We need a little time alone.” I sounded softer. “So tonight, I’m only gonna be your man,” I told her. She raised an eyebrow. “I’m off the entire weekend.”

“Bradley Alexander—” She was ready to scold me for messing with her. 

“Scout’s honor.” I held my fingers up in the Eagle Scout sign. We stared at each other. “There’s no way I’m leaving this house, especially when you look this good.” My hand dropped lower to squeeze her backside. She dropped her head trying to hide the blush in her cheeks as if I’d never seen it before.

“Go shower,” she said. My grip on her loosened so she could step away. “I’m not spending the evening huffing jet fuel.” She looked my attire up and down. I left in such a rush, I still had my flight suit on. 

Extra swagger in her hips, she sauntered to the kitchen. For a split second, I considered following her and bending her over the nearest surface. But tonight called for something slower, softer than a counter quickie.

Instead, I went to our ensuite bathroom and let the water pressure ease my muscles. Soothed by the water and steam, I lost track of time. When I realized, I hopped out, did a quick shave and dressed.

We were home, but she was wearing that sinful sundress, so I at least wanted to wear something I knew she’d love. I put on my favorite pair of worn jeans, a white tank and an Aloha shirt I knew was one of her favorites. 

I padded downstairs, noticing the lights were low and she’d lit candles. A smile turned my lips when I heard Led Zeppelin IV spinning on the record player—I thought about the countless times we made out to this soundtrack.

When I rounded the corner into the kitchen, I stopped in my tracks. She was sitting on our small breakfast table, palm supporting her, head tilted back, wine glass to her lips. One leg ran the radius of the table while the other hung off at the knee. Her heel popping to the beat of the music.

She turned to look at me. “Wine?” She held out her glass. I shook my head as a coy smile pulled a corner of my mouth. She winked as she polished off the last sip in her glass.

As I approached the table, she shifted so she was facing me and placed the glass at her side. Stepping between her legs, I pushed the glass further back. A hand on either side of her, I leaned so we were at eye level. 

Her hand cupped the side of my jaw, and her thumb ran along my lips. Mindlessly, I pressed a kiss to it. The tiniest smile curled the corners of her mouth as she searched my face. I hummed as her fingers traversed the raised skin of my scars and came to rest on the dip of my chest just below my clavicles. “Do you have any idea how handsome you are?” she asked.

Surely she felt my chest rumble as I chuckled. “Only when you tell me.” My voice was raspier than usual. Leaning further into her, I dropped my head to place soft kisses on her neck. 

“Surely other women tell you.” I knew exactly what she was doing. 

“I can assure you, they keep their thoughts to themselves,” I replied. Between kisses I told her about my latest class catching sight of her on base. It was the last time we had lunch together before our drought. A couple of them commented about a hot civilian. Turning, I found her chatting with Maverick. 

I told them the easiest way to not return from a mission was ogling another pilot’s spouse. One of the women who had been doing her damnedest to flirt with me blurted, “That’s your wife?!” I nodded at her with a wink. She paled and never looked me in the eye again.

The earned laugh that quickly morphed into a moan had me considering unzipping my pants and unceremoniously fucking her. But I had to pace myself. She was flat against the table, my body covering her with my forearms holding me up as I kissed whatever exposed skin was available. The raggedness of her breathing kept me going. 

“Do you know how hard it is for me not to wake you up every night at some ungodly hour?” I told her, picking my head up to see her response. 

Her bottom lip was between her teeth as her eyes twinkled in the low light. “Why wouldn’t you wake me up?” she asked. Her thighs were squeezing my hips, the skirt of her dress covering almost nothing. 

“First, you sleep through absolutely everything.” She chuckled as my hands skimmed her bare thighs. “We could be having a magnitude 10 earthquake, and you’d sleep through it.” She nodded in agreement as one of my hands slid between us. 

I froze. “Where are your underwear?” She never went commando without a purpose. 

She propped herself up on her elbows. “Maybe I was hoping you would be home, in bed, when I returned. And I could wake you up.” She paused. “If you came home.” Her gaze was intense.

My smile faltered and my head dropped with my shoulders in a moment of guilt. Quickly, I looked back up at her. “I’m sorry.” Still gripping her thigh, my thumb drew circles on it. 

“Show me,” she said.

“Excuse me?” I had expected her to scold me or for us to get into a deep conversation about the past month.

She moved my hand from her thigh to between her legs. “Actions speak louder than words.” Expertly, she maneuvered my hand to guide two fingers into her. “Show me how sorry you are. How much you’ve missed me.”

For a minute, I froze. Tired of waiting for me, she wrapped her hand around my wrist to slide my fingers in and out of her. Finally, I got a hold of myself, my thumb pressing to her swollen bundle of nerves and the pads of my fingers stimulating that spongy spot inside. Her breath caught as I took over.

“That’s it, honey.” She melted against the table. “Let’s take it nice and slow.” She clenched around my fingers—I thought I might come right then. “Fuck,” I said under my breath. She smiled as she watched me squeeze my eyes shut. 

Back on her elbows, her fingers snuck into my hair and pulled me until our lips connected. My lips parted just enough to allow her tongue in. It toyed with mine, matching the rhythm of my fingers pumping in and out of her. Her lips left mine with a smack. “Bradley,” she moaned as I alternated between scissoring my fingers and curling them against her G spot.

“That’s it,” I cooed, keeping the same pace and pattern. I could feel her tightening around my fingers. “Fuck,” I breathed out, enjoying the feel of her. My lips fell to her neck, knowing the additional contact would send her over the edge. 

The stutter breath she let out matched her contractions around my fingers. “That’s it, honey.” I watched her face as she went through her high, my fingers keeping pace. As she untensed, I slowed to a stop. She looked at me as she steadied her breathing and a smile appeared. She continued to watch as I cleaned her from my fingers. Immediately, she pulled me down to taste herself.

She hummed as we separated. “Go pick another album. I wanted to make out with you on the couch.” My cock jumped from just the words leaving her mouth. Standing to my full height, I helped her off the table. 

She shooed me with her hands to the living room where my inherited record player was housed. I thumbed the sleeves until I found the perfect selection: The Velvet Underground’s Loaded.

As soon as the needle fell into the groove, she appeared with the bottle of wine. We both traipsed to the couch. She split the wine as I settled into the sofa. I accepted a glass and then beckoned her to sink into my side. Together, we sipped and listened to the opening song. 

As the next began to play, she placed our empty glasses on the coffee table and straddled my lap. My hands came to rest on the tops of her thighs, pushing the fabric of her dress higher to expose more skin. She shimmied even closer to me, so she was at even more of a height advantage—my head was tipped almost completely back. 

Her fingers sifted through my locks, her nails massaging my scalp. A deep breath I didn’t even realize I was holding escaped my parted lips. She smiled as she watched me relax. My eyes were practically in the back of my head, her massage turning my mind to mush.

She tugged my hair, which earned a moan and caused me to shift under her. She ground against me, the stiff seams of my jeans caressing her most sensitive spot. I let her roll my head to the side so she had better access to pepper kisses along my neck. She continued to grind against my denim-clad crotch. Boy, did I wish there were less fabric between us. 

My fingers dug into her thighs as she sank her teeth into my neck. “Christ,” I said under my breath. She sat back and eyed me, proud of the reaction she got. Her thumb passed over the spot that would surely be purple later. “Maybe your students will have fewer questions come Monday.” Before I could say anything, she leaned in and sweetly pressed her lips to mine. 

“You’re such a sour patch kid,” I teased. She smiled at the nickname while she nipped my lips and swirled her tongue against mine. At the same time, her hands were busy unfastening my jeans. She climbed off my lap, and I lifted my hips to help her rid me of my garments. 

Climbing back into my lap, her knees bracketed my hips and the tops of her feet contoured the curve of my thighs. Her core rested against my length. I wanted nothing more than to guide myself into her.

“It’s really unfair you look this good in such a silly print.” Her fingers followed the shoulder seams of my shirt to the collar. Using the points, she pulled me back in for a kiss. As we separated, her hands dipped under my collar and over my shoulders to help shed the cloth. 

Once that was off, she took advantage of a tiny hole I hadn't noticed in my tank. Penetrating it with her finger, she pulled and the fabric easily gave way. I watched as the hole grew and she fisted the fabric to snap it at the hems. She untangled me from the ruined garment and dropped it to the floor. 

My arms snaked around her waist, pulling her closer and hands palming her backside through her dress. Her hips lifted, and with one hand, she guided me into her. Slowly, she returned to her resting position. A sigh left my mouth as I felt her adjusting to me.

“Honey,” I trailed off as she squeezed me a couple times. We kept eye contact as she began to slowly lift and lower herself. The pace quickened just a bit as she fell into rhythm with the music.

As she kept going, my hands slipped under her dress and began to pull it up until it was over her head. Once it was off, my mouth immediately found one of her nipples. The moan that left her lips was euphoric. 

It made me bite her harder. She let out something between a moan and cry as her nails sank into my shoulders. I hissed, enjoying the burn as she scored my skin.

She was frustrated, and I wanted every bit of that energy. 

Not wanting to miss any of it, I coiled an arm back around her waist and easily flipped us so she was laying on the couch parallel with the cushions. 

Her doe eyes stared up at me, filled with surprise. My quirked lip grew to a smirk, as I anchored a hand on the cushion beside her head and the other on the couch back. My hips began to rock, setting a new pace for us. The lust came back to her gaze as her soft thighs met my hips and her heels found purchase in the dimples of my ass. 

I held it together as her nails gently ran from the top of my cock to just under my pecs and back. Her touch was soft but firm enough not to tickle. I flexed a little extra. 

Watching her breasts bounce with each thrust was enamoring. Her breathy gasps each time I bottomed out were the only noise I was hearing. My eyes sank as she stopped touching me and started touching herself. 

My pace stayed the same, but my gaze was trapped where we connected. I slid in and out while her digits swirled along her swollen nerves. My hips stuttered from the added pleasure as her index and forefingers made a V around the base of cock. “Fuck me,” I whined. 

She smiled. “No, you’re fucking me,” she corrected. We laughed together. 

“I missed this so, so much,” I confessed. Wanting to be closer to her, I sank to my elbows. I tucked my palm behind her head, letting my fingers sift through her hair. Her eyes were hooded as she looked at me through her lashes. 

We locked gazes as she took a deep breath and moved her hands to my waist, her nails sinking into the flesh just above my hips. At the same time, I felt her entire lower half contract, thighs hugging me and core convulsing. 

“Bradley.” My name was long and drawn out as it left her lips. It was enough to make me spill into her. I breathed her name into the crook of her neck as I curled my arm under her head, my elbow became her head rest, to hug her whole body as close as possible. Her hand ran up my side and hooked around my shoulder. 

I followed her name with a pleasurable hiss as her teeth sank into the meat of my shoulder. She punctuated the action with a tender kiss. The first of several she trailed into the crook of my neck as we rode out our orgasms.

Just as we came down from our high, the record ended. “Perfect timing.” I pressed a kiss to her forehead before pulling out and heading to the record player. She whined, but turned to enjoy the view as I walked away. Patiently, she waited as I flipped the vinyl and put it back on the player. I lined up the needle perfectly, and immediately the opening notes seeped out of the speakers. 

By the time I was headed back to the couch, she was standing beside it. “Should we change the dress code in the house to birthday suits only?” I pressed my body to hers, enjoying the full frontal contact and handful of her ass I grabbed. She squeaked and arched her back. My lips covered hers to distract from her attempt to escape. “I’m sorry,” I mumbled into her lips. 

We parted just far enough to look one another in the eyes. Her expression was playful. “Apology accepted.” I squeezed her around her ribcage and stuck my face in the crook of her neck. Although we were stark naked, our hug was earnest. 

As we separated, she held my biceps, keeping us close. “Let’s go upstairs so you can keep doing what you’re doing to me all night long.”

“You don’t have to tell me twice.” Together, we blew out all the candles, and then walked upstairs hand-in-hand.

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